#longfic snip

[rockingrobin69]

SWIP Snip

I’ve already shared one this week, but my brain’s buzzing something rotten and darling @crazybutgood​ tagged me and just. I’ve been writing this fic since June, keep coming back to it, by far the longest I have (at currently 8 chapters). Featuring thieving Scorpius, grieving Draco and Harry who is... looking. For his way. For them, I guess. 

Harry only remembered it five steps from his door: peppers. He never got peppers. He was going to make goulash for Ron, which meant he spent the last few days telling himself: peppers, peppers, you need a lot of peppers, paprika means pepper in Hungarian, don't forget about the peppers, you always forget something, don’t let it be the peppers. And here, living to see yet another prophecy fulfilled, the boy who blew it. Three cartons of oats milk and not even one pepper to spare.

He stood there for a moment, thinking—no, wallowing—no, beating himself, because really. Really. Really, and just now, with the company thing and Teddy’s eleventh looming, now he had to go and do this. Harry laid the bags on the pavement and rubbed his eyes. Ron and Hermione would be here soon. He still had to take a shower, tidy up a bit. Cook the damn goulash, which he’s promised Ron he would ages ago. Give himself the never-ending pep talk he stole from that TV series, the one about things being not the end of the world, fancy that. And then Ron and Hermione would come over, and it’d be nice, it always is. They’ll say nice things about his food and he’ll remember how much he loves them. It’ll be nice.

So Harry went back with his tail between his legs. Just for the peppers, just because Ron made such a big deal about finally trying his Famous Goulash, just because Harry was a pathetic baby who needed constant coddling. Always such a baby. Which was also why, when he first heard the voice, he ignored it.

It happened, like any major drama, in the produce section. A voice coming from behind a huge bin of potatoes. Something he hasn’t heard in years, and also sort of never heard at all. Still he froze, glued to his spot down by the tomatoes. Felt his heart racing, unreasonable in his chest. And just when he stood there long enough, when he managed to convince himself it was nothing, nothing, actually nothing, the voice spoke again. Even worse, laughed, deep and warm: “Darling! Hey! Come back here!”

On the one hand, it couldn’t be him, because this was Harry’s Tesco’s and a random evening in November and no one’s seen him in years. On the other hand, who would say something like that, darling in that tone, in the middle of a supermarket, if it wasn’t—

The scene unfolded before his eyes, stuck as he was on the spot. Tiny lump of a human, blond-blond in a very telling way, practically all smile, running his way. Following: lean, far taller than he had any right to be. Hair down to his ears, messy, like that made sense. A bit paler than he has been, tighter around the mouth, but his eyes all lit up.

“Darling! Give me the—I’m sorry, Sir. It’s yours if you still want it.” He caught up with the toddler and grabbed what seemed to be a potato, handing it back to an amused-looking old man. “That was terribly rude, love. What would… we don’t steal from other people’s baskets. Apologise to this gentleman.”

“It’s all right,” the man waved a hand, “he can keep it, it’s not really—”

“Please, Sir. Scorpius, come here.”

But he just smiled, with a cheeky chuckle that made Harry remember he was there too. Something like a cough tore through him, a sudden oh, right, and then all the people in the shop turned to him. Or at least: the old man with the potato, the tiny boy, and Malfoy.

The world was silent for a long, thick moment. All four of them seemed stuck in this shared gasp. Then Malfoy blinked, three times in a row, picked up the boy, and turned his back on Harry.

“Awfully sorry,” he said, and left. Harry still stood by the tomatoes, unable to lift a finger.

Tagging anyone who wants to share with the class! Literally you! If you want to! YOU!

[quinnthebard]

typical pre-vampire reveal Astarion and Sarynna interaction tbh

“You bit me!” Astarion shook his hand as if that would rid him of the wound. “Hells, if you’re into that kind of thing, you only had to tell me.” Licking his lips, he smiled devilishly as if he savored her savagery. His eyes were sharp as they peered down at her, all sharp angles and blood red. Her heart pounded. “Trust me, I’m not. Not unless I’m the one biting.” “Oh, don’t knock it ‘til you try it, darling.”

[tackytigerfic]

Six Sentence Sunday

Does it still count as Sunday if i haven't gone to bed yet even though it's past midnight? Thank you @drarrily-we-row-along for the tag - i loved reading your truly delectable snip. i know it's not just me who's weak for magical sparks flying between them, so check out drarrily's 🔥🔥🔥 extract here.

Wartime AU still going (104k now) - Harry and Draco are reluctant roommates with a history, while Potter and Malfoy came from another universe, are sharing the room next door, and are a couple. This is the prelude to Harry and Draco's first (or is it?) kiss.

“You appear to be labouring under the misapprehension that I somehow care about your hurt feelings in all of this.” Draco's voice was chilly, remote, a distant constellation of clipped consonants and resentment. “I’m concerned entirely with the safety and integrity of our mission, and your little friendship with Malfoy is jeopardising that. I’d ask you what you see in him, but then you’ve always had a type, haven’t you? Posh boys with abandonment issues. Though the scars are a new thing, I’ll grant you. Do they go all the way down, I wonder? Why don’t you ask Pot—”

The shock of Draco’s breath was warm against Harry’s hand, his palm humid where it pressed against Draco’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Harry said. “Just... shut up. You’re talking about grubby crushes? You’re the only grubby one around here. You have no honour, no concept of friendship, no courage. You’re just the same nasty little coward you always were—went running to Mummy when things got too hard here, and then when that went to shit you came crawling back. But you know you don’t really belong here, don’t you? And you can’t stand it—you just can’t bear to think that no one wants you here, no one needs you. You’re nothing. I literally had to go into another world to find a version of you I could stand.”

Draco’s teeth clacked together, scraping for purchase along the curve of Harry’s palm but not managing to land the bite, and then he slammed his arm up and knocked Harry’s hand away, wiping the back of his own hand across his mouth, shaking.

“You think I’m so pathetic, but you’re the one who can’t even manage to do the one thing he was destined to do. You’re right, Harry. Everyone’s clinging on here because of you, wondering when you’ll finally manage to finish the job. Well, good luck if you think your Malfoy is going to help you out. I may not know him like you do, but I know myself. And deep down, somewhere behind all the smiling and having Harry Potter fall in love with him, he’s still just like me.”

Tagging anyone reading this, please do tag me if you fancy playing!

[dirty-bosmer]

Snippet Someday

So I've been revisiting the earlier chapters of my fic and am stuck in a bout of editing paralysis where everything sounds blegh, but ahhhh so is life. I thought, what the heck— let me put a positive spin on all these writing woes and make a game out of it. Plus I've been meeting a lot of new writers this summer, and I figured this would be a fun way to get to know your stories and characters as I make my way through my bookmark list. Take this chance to showcase your fic. We've all been working hard. Let's be proud of how far we've come :)

Tagging: @atypicalacademic @skyrim-forever @justafoxhound @elavoria @gilgamish @thana-topsy @thequeenofthewinter @paraparadigm @chennnington @expended-sleeper @snowberry-crostata @sylvienerevarine @dumpsterhipster @nuwanders @daedrabait @wispstalk @rainpebble3 @nine-blessed-hero @mareenavee @miraakulous-cloud-district @ladytanithia Sorry for blowing up your notifications. If you're not tagged, please feel free to jump in and tag me if you see this and want to join! I'm not always sure who is writing fic and who isn't. No pressure as always :D

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

From The Illusionist: Passion, Purpose, and Penance:

First Chapter: Skirting The Black Road (commence the moral decayyy 😈)

Admittedly disappointed by this virtuous facade, he saw the crack, only needed to slip his blade into it and twist. This, he could work with, for she was a murderer in the eyes of the Night Mother whether she accepted it or not, and he had no doubt that if pressed, she too would heed Sithis' call. They all did. New murderers were pliant, he found, like old snags of dead wood. One gentle push and the roots released their grip.

Favorite Chapter: 61— Us and Them (self indulgent disaster-ship is self indulgent 🤷‍♀️)

And when he looked at her, he felt dissolved, knew not where the salt of her tears became the salt of his blood, and if he could strip her from her skin just to drink the liquid dark behind her eyes, he would.

Most Challenging Chapter: 67 — A Small Death (Newly mantled Sheogorath is not a headspace I know how to work with 😅)

“Again, Nimileth?”

There was disapproval in his voice, faint, but not faint enough to suggest he'd been trying to hide it. Nim fought back the urge to growl.

“I had a bit too much to drink, that’s all,” she mumbled. Too much last night and the night before. Too much. Too much again.

“Don’t you think you should know your limits by now?”

'Don’t you think you should know your limits by now,’ she wished to spit back at him, make herself an even greater pest if only to feel more like the lowly, burrowing insect she had become. Or better yet, something limbless, blind. A worm. But Nim didn't have the strength to finish. She didn’t even have the strength to start.

Instead, she bunched the sheets in her fists and yanked them over her head so that she lay completely covered. What am I doing, she thought. The throbbing waves of her headache crested and crashed, grinding her skull down to coarse, ivory sands. What am I doing?

Lucien didn’t linger after that. He flung open the curtains, and when he left, the sun crept across her back. Shielded as she was beneath her sheets and behind her eyelids, she could still feel its glaring, angry flare.

“I see you, Nimileth,” it said, stretching its fingers across the room. Pointing, taunting fingers that seared and scraped at the raw wounds of last night's sins. “I see you. I will set and I will rise and I will see you again tomorrow. I will see you then. I will see you again.”

[thequeenofthewinter]

Snippet Someday

A very interesting concept, thank you for creating it @dirty-bosmer and for tagging me in it. Also a huge thanks for @mareenavee for throwing a second tag my way. <3 If you all haven't checked out their writing yet, you need to.

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @paraparadigm @rainpebble3 @blossom-adventures @dumpsterhipster @skyrim-forever @snippetsrus @changelingsandothernonsense @gilgamish @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @rhiannon1199 and anyone else who wants to play along.

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

I will be using my current WIP, An Invincible Summer, for this. Apologies ahead of time for the long post. I will place my snippets under the cut.

First Chapter: Awakening (Chapter 2) (Technically, it's chapter 2 but the first one is a bit of a teaser/prologue, so I am starting here.)

Whispers of fabric follow Dahlia as she walks through the otherwise hauntingly quiet floors of the Palace of the Kings. They are the only sound which dares to accompany her, and the only indication which she comes and goes from room to room in her phantom state. No one approaches her, and no one sees her, as she herself makes no sound. Not even her footsteps echo off the old stones as if they too are afraid of disturbing her fragile peace. When she enters the Great Hall, she appears out of nowhere as if she were a sudden grey mist rolling in over the western moorlands of Whiterun. One by one, the servants take notice of her and stop to stare, unsure of what to do or how to act. They are all surprised by her spectral presence in the Great Hall as she slowly makes her way towards the Throne of Ysgramor to sit on its seat, her dull hazel eyes looking blankly out over the scene before her.  It is a complete change, a metamorphosis, as everyone watches her finally emerge from the safety of Ulfric's room, her mourning cocoon. Now, dressed decadently in silks, velvets, and furs, Dahlia looks to them to be every bit a noblewoman, the queen she is to become at a later date. She glitters and glistens from head to toe, shimmering in the bright sunlight with all of the necklaces, rings, and other trinkets which adorn her, and it's all topped with an eerily familiar piece of clothing: Ulfric's bear cloak. She has taken it as her own so that a piece of him goes wherever she does. This is her new armor, even if it's only a costume meant to distract them from staring at her for too long and seeing what inner turmoil is brewing underneath her stormy surface.  Only she knows that she is an apparition, the barest wisp of her previous self. 

Favorite Chapter: Long May They Rein (Chapter 18) (It was really hart to choose something, but ultimately, I decided on the most recent thing I wrote. There is just something about it which I am really proud of.)

"When Akatosh spun the Wheel of time and created the Dragonborns, he gave us Talos for strength and courage, a God that humans could truly look up to and aspire to become. It is in that tradition that our kings and queens have followed, striving to approximate that same tenacity of fortitude." One of the priestess' hands waves over them, gesturing to them both as she lifts a silver crown with the other. While Dahlia is already wearing hers, Ulfric is to receive his during the ceremony for all to see. Candlelight reflects off the polished sides of the silver circlet which is notably engraved with dragon's tongue as a symbol of solidarity with his wife and a single polished sapphire at its head to represent his family name. Carefully, Jora puts it down on the altar placed before her, and continues with her sermon. "All the Nine have lessons to teach us, and paths for us to follow--from Zenithar and his teachings of hard work and an industrious spirit to Stendarr and his showings of mercy upon us. May they both cover and guide you as they lend you their wisdom to rule our country." A white cloth is then placed over both of their heads before she utters her next verses. They are the same ones, perhaps with a few modifications, which have been uttered during the coronations of generations of kings and queens over time immemorial. The words settle over them both, vibrating through the chamber as if swept in upon the wind itself. "Kyne shows us the path of kindness and grants us auspicious winds. It is she who gifted us the space to exist within the Void as she opened her arms and the heavens for us. Her handmaiden, Mara, embodied the same care for us mortals in demonstrating what it means to show devotion to one another. Their qualities of generosity and amenity are standards which we all hold ourselves to--blessings which we all hope to receive." She anoints them with mountain flower oil which flows over their mantle in slow rivers. "May their kindness and love rain down on you." From there, the words all meld into one, becoming indistinct as they ebb and flow like the tides, pulling at Dahlia's heartstrings until all that is left is feeling. She is floating--not quite here nor there--as her eyes slip closed and her breathing slows to the rhythm of their beat. Julianos, Diabella, Arkay. Widsom, beauty, balance. She knows she should be paying attention, but she has all but faded away into the droning buzz of Jora's words. She is everywhere and nowhere all at once as the constellations and celestial bodies, laid out before her in ribbons of time and streams of space, leak past her in echos and whispers of words as ancient as the universe itself. They tug and pull at the edges of her consciousness, velvety black and bright silver seeping from her fingers--Are those her fingers? They ripple at her as they disperse into prismatic waves before dispersing into the Void. The whole image then turns with the force of a great Dragon opening its maw and yawning into the cosmos. She catches murmurings of what she perceives is language--if anything in this Void could be called that or even be real at all. Dovahjud, tum haallei wahl Vus motaad voth fin fus do duni, kiiri. And suddenly as quickly as the vision started, it all begins to dissolve into nothing with fragments of ash as they flutter around her and the images fade back into reality. What was this? Why was she here, and was that-- Dragged back into the consciousness of the here and now, her soul lurches into her body, the steadying hand of Ulfric keeping her from falling forward into the priestess's feet. Dahlia blinks as her eyes adjust to the vivid colors of solid, tangible existence to see the sapphire of his eyes looking with concern back at her.

Most Challenging Chapter: A Pit of Snakes (Chapter 15) (Literally, this was so difficult because I was writing a pit of snakes at the Moot.)

Finally, a tentative voice joins his as Dahlia ventures to stand next to him. "We have been sitting around and ignoring what is going on around us, hoping that the problems will resolve themselves. Exactly as it was before I appeared as the Dragonborn to fix them for you. What were each of you doing before this? You were all content to sit on your hands on your thrones and allow someone else to throw away their resources and potentially their life in order to save you or worse: resigned yourselves to your seemingly-inevitable fate. Perhaps you did not want to die, and I do not blame you. No one does. I certainly did not. When I stepped into Sovngarde, I did not expect to come back, but yet here I am. So, maybe that is what you all need to ask yourselves now--who is willing to get their hands dirty and who is willing to move to save you?" "It is admirable what you did, and no one would argue with that, but does that make you a politician and does that mean you have the skills to lead?" Balgruuf stands, a hand perched on his wife's shoulder. "Just because you know how to swing a sword around," he turns his head to Ulfric, "and you have won a few battles, does not make you fit to lead. Perhaps what my wife said earlier was a bit harsh, but it holds true. What have we seen from you that will set you apart as leaders? And what is your main goal? Windhelm sat forgotten by your own admission for so long. How do we know that the moment someone puts you on the throne that you will not throw the rest of us to the dogs in pursuit of your 'bigger picture'? At least when I was Jarl of this Hold, I did all that was possible in order to make sure my people were cared for, and that is what Elisif and I are doing now in Haafingar. We are looking out for our own. You might call that selfish, but I call that honorable. That is the foundation on which a kingdom is built upon, and that is what Elisif will promise you: honor as well as stability. Ulfric is too volatile and thinks with his heart and not his head. While that makes for someone who is undoubtably charismatic, it will not guarantee strong leadership nor a moral compass." "And what would you propose for those outside your care? If this is the context in which you will carry out your rule," Ulfric waves a hand towards the pair, "we should only focus on what is immediately in front of us and only worry about ourselves. You'd leave everyone else to rot. While you poke at me for seeing the forest yet not the trees, you would to the exact opposite." He sighs heavily as he rests his arms on the table. "You cannot have it both ways. No matter what, someone is going to lose. It is the nature of our current state of affairs, and it is the nature of war. Or perhaps you have forgotten that. While it is infinitely unfortunate that few should suffer for the many, that is how things are because we have allowed it to be so." Balgruuf draws one of his hands tightly into a fist as he tries to keep his calm. It is as if Ulfric forgot that he too fought in the Great War and that he knows the complexities of being at war. "While that is true, Ulfric, at least I did not plunge my country into further troubles by igniting a Civil War and exacerbating the problems we already had." "Oh, you mean that we would do what you did? Sit on our hands and do naught at all as we remain neutral and hope that our enemies do not come knocking on our gates? I hate to ruin the ending of your story, but it seems you need reminding of what happened not more than a year ago. I did come knocking, and the threat of my armies moved you. Now look where you are." "And what exactly do you mean by that?" Elisif asks sharply. Ulfric leans back in his chair, a cool expression on his face. "It means whatever you'd like it to mean."

[ginnyw-potter]

Super happy birthday!

Can I ask for a sneak peak of the arranged marriage fic? I am super excited about it!

Thank you <3 !

The only reason this fic isn't finished yet is because I actually had to write for my ongoing longfics, but I am very obsessed with this one rn

Spilt Blood sneak peek:

“How are you feeling?” she asked him carefully.

“A bit better,” he told him. “Thank you for not leaving me to die.”

“I may not have chosen you, but I would rather have you alive and well,” she responded.

He smiled weakly. “You could have moved rooms. I’m sure I’ve kept you awake for far too long.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” she told him. “Make sure I’d be there if you needed anything.” She stood up and filled a glass of water. “Drink up.”

He stared at her. “Are you ordering me?” he asked her as he sat up carefully.

“Yes, you have to drink.” She set the glass down on the night table when he did not take it. “That must’ve started hurting before it got this bad. Why didn’t you say anything?” she snipped.

He stilled. “Why are you taking that tone with me?”

“Because I’m fed up!” she yelled. “How can you be so careless with your own health?!”

“I took care of it!” he shot right back, and then immediately winced.

She stared him down. “This didn’t happen overnight! This could have been entirely avoided if you had it checked on time!”

I am posting birthday sneak peeks!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

Snippets someday

Thank you for the tags @dirty-bosmer (you had an amazing idea with this tag game!), @mareenavee, @blossom-adventures, you guys are the best <3 <3 This tag game is amazing, and while it was hard to pick favourites, I had so much fun, and looking back on my first chapters, I love to see the similarities, but also the differences. ‘Wherever you go, there you are’ is such a fulfilling and fun journey for me! Starting to write and post fanfic was the best decision ever, because not only did it boost my confidence and made me develop my own writing style, but it also lead me to meet some amazing people along the way. Just know that I appreciate every single one of you who reads my work/leaves kudos and comments/tags me in tag games/or interacts with my posts! I love this little community to pieces! But enough sappy ramblings, let’s get to the rules!

Rules:

Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from: 

 * Your first chapter 

 * Your favorite chapter 

* Your most challenging chapter 

 Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

The snippets under the cut are from my longfic, WYGTYA

*Snippet from my first chapter! These are from chapter two, because chapter one is just a prologue to put readers into context with where the story starts :)

~

“I think I’d make a good bartender.” Inigo says, finally turning to them from the treasure chest, wearing a cravat and a monocle. Making exaggerated gestures with a golden goblet, decorated with small emeralds and putting on his most fancy accent, “May I take your order, my lord?”

“Ah, yes. Give me some of your most exquisite wine. I am, after all, a mer with expensive taste.” Rumarin responds in the same fashion while Ravonna and Lucien are laughing so hard the boat’s shaking.

“Very well, My lord. Coming right up!” and, to everyone’s surprise, he actually finds a bottle of Gods-know-what and opens it.

“Wait, did you get that out of the chest?” Ravonna asks with a mixture of amazement and concern.

“Yes, my lady. Do not worry. It is very exquisite indeed!”

“We’ll see about that. I’m a wine expert, after all.”

“Rumarin, are you sure that’s drinkable? It’s been there for hundreds of years at least!”

“You know, Lucien, I have a philosophy in life. A few, actually. One, wine would never hurt me. Two, always try to drink something that resembles wine, but you have to smell it first. And three… cheers, mate!” and he quickly downs the so-called wine, much to Lucien’s horror.

“Did he just do that? Did you just do that?”

“I did.” He grins.

“Well how is it?” Ravonna asks.

“It’s… exquisite.”

“I wanna try that!”

“Me too!” Inigo says, already looking for more fancy goblets.

“Guys I don’t think we should – ”

“Luci, the dremora pirate says everything’s fine to use. I guess this includes the wine. Now give me that bottle!” Ravonna grabs the bottle taking a careful sip. “By the Gods!”

“Well I’m not going to drink it, just in case y’all get poisoned and need someone to save the day.”

“Uuh, guys?”

“It’s fine, really. I know a thing or two about brewing. The older the wine, the better, and the more expensive, I tell you. My father had this wine back at the tavern, almost two hundred years old! I used to sneak in and take a few sips.” Ravonna laughs.

“Guys?”

“You know what? You’re right. And it’s definitely wine. I know wine when I tase it, or smell it, believe me. And I’ve got another philosophy for you, Lucien.”

“Guys?!?”

“What?” they all turn to Inigo, in unison.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing masked people all dressed the same waiting for us at shore.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

Fun fact, this first chapter is one of m absolute favourites. I still remember the sheer amounts of excitement I felt while writing it! 

~

~

___________________________________________

*For the favourite chapter, I chose chapter 9, because the Skaal Village party, as well as all the metaphor of rebirth and the bonding that took place between the characters is so near and dear to my heart <3. Chapter 10 was a very close second, though! 

“I’m sorry.” She barely says between giggles. “It’s just so funny to me how life works.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, some nights ago, we were killing each other, and now we’re almost fighting over who is supposed to be apologizing. How did we get here?!”

He laughs along with her, feeling lightheaded from the alcohol. “I have no idea. I'd call it a pleasant surprise.”

“Well then, let’s make most of it! I need another one of those magical shots, and they are a lot more fun to drink with somebody.” She says, getting up and offering her hand.

“There’s magic involved?” He says, taking her hand and trying to get up, but she lets go of his hand, falling on the snow. She was laughing again and she almost dragged him with her.

“Oh, Gods!” she gets up and shakes the dirt and snow off her robes. “I thought a man as well-read as you would be able to spot a figure of speech. I didn’t mean actual magic!”

“Oh, give me a break, vahdin (woman)! It’s been a long night and I haven’t had a drink in five millennia!”

“Whatever. Your fancy dragon words don’t make up for it!” She looks directly in his eyes. They’re close to each other. Just like in Apocrypha when she got up and in his face. The pose so similar, yet so different. Like looking in a mirror and seeing the complete opposite.

“Hi los ful brit. (You are so beautiful)”

“Shut up, s’wit.” She says, not understanding a word from his dovahzul, but her face doesn’t indicate any trace of anger.

“I know what that means.”

“You know everything, don’t you.”

He thinks for a moment. “Not everything, no. I’ve read books, yes, but I don’t know much about you.”

“Okay, alright. Here’s a fun fact about me: I really want to go take that shot.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” He lets himself get dragged to the main area of the party.

~

~

___________________________________________

*For the most challenging, I chose chapter 11, because it legit took me two months to write this thing! The battle with Vahlok was someting that I kept putting off because it’s very action and angst filled and that can be tricky for me to write. Also, the Dovahzul language is killing me hahaha!

“Tiid fah hi wa kos nahlot ahrk dir (loosely: time for you to shut up and die)” Vahlok screeched, and shoved Ravonna into a wall as hard as he could with his telekinetic powers. This awakened something in Fenrik. Something he hasn’t felt since he killed his first dragon.

“Fin gein ahraan dii fahdonne (no one hurts my friends)!” Fenrik shouts, breaking free from his grip.

“Fahdonne?(Friends?)” Vahlok tilts his head in bewilderment. “Un fron lost nid fahdonne, sonaak! (Our kind has no friends, dragon priest!)” He says in a mocking tone.

“Tol los ni wo zu'u los! Ni alun aan ziist tiid! (Loosely: That is not who I am! Not anymore and not ever again!)” and with that, he strikes him with a sparks spell and all hell breaks loose.

I’m going to tag @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @thelavenderelf @sheirukitriesfandom with no pressure, of course! And tagging anyone else who would like to share! Consider yourself tagged! 

[mareenavee]

Snippets Someday

Howdy again :> I was tagged by @dirty-bosmer to share more snippets. I'm also mid ground-up edit and even during the course of this, I can see the level ups so I'm happy to share. Picking a favorite chapter is HARD though, I must say. While I'm in it, it's hard to see what makes a chapter a favorite, but during the editing process, sometimes certain turns of phrase really make me proud of my past self and my last three braincells :> I think this should be normalized. Our writing is good and worthy and we are all doing our best.

Tagging the most esteemed: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @polypolymorph, @thequeenofthewinter, @snippetsrus, @rhiannon1199, @oblivions-dawn, @airiat, @the-storytellers-seer, @archangelsunited, @inquisition-dragonborn, @saltymaplesyrup, @friend-of-giants, @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @kookaburra1701, @rainpebble3 and HONESTLY anyone else who wants to play this game! Tag me back so I can read more snippets!!

Rules:

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from: * Your first chapter * Your favorite chapter * Your most challenging chapter Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Under the cut for snips from The World on Our Shoulders!

First Chapter: Chapter 1 - Prologue (Ah. The drama. Laid out like a picnic. Immediately. Without holding anything back.)

It had been months now, time inching ever closer to a year away. The last letter she wrote home to him was before the most recent complication to their situation. It had been filled with lies, of course, as most of her correspondence had been for some time now. He wrote all the time, even when he had no word from her. Though he was always reaching, even in the distance, as far away as she could keep him, it had become so easy to ignore his hands. She stooped with just a small bit of discomfort and picked up the soft shirt she had been drying in the sun. She had already wrapped her chest, and packed away her lighter armor for travel which had been scrubbed clean. Next to her bag, a crumpled letter, smoothed over many times, lay taunting her to read it again. The ink was smeared in places, perhaps written hastily and folded before it had a chance to dry. He hadn’t bothered to use the good parchment this time, either. She looked over the correspondence once again, searching and not finding anything of interest or note. There was nothing between these lines. That was part of the problem. He commented once again on the last letter she sent, and then begged her to come home. She had burned a thousand of these. Maybe not that many, but enough. And she never answered the persistent question: when? Because the answer, after a time, had become never. And Nyenna wasn’t sure how to phrase that nicely. There likely wasn’t a way.

Favorite Older Chapter: Chapter 8 - Haunted by the Ghost of You (I have a couple more new favorites but this did mention older chapters. I enjoy the ache of these doomed ships so here we are.)

Athis was exhausted. The weight of his thoughts, his worries, his sadness had him crumbling. Once, he could have turned to her and she’d take it all away. One kiss, one glance, and he would be okay again. She was his home, his shelter, his safety. He thought he’d given her that, too, but like with everything else, her path had taken this from her as well. Nowhere felt like home, once again, for either of them. That emptiness was tearing into his soul at this point. It had been just like before he even made it to Skyrim. Nothingness. Hopelessness. He couldn’t help inviting it in. There was nobody else in here, anyway. He had tried to push the bad memories away from him all this time, but in the void, they crept back in. Reminded him of all his terror, ceaseless in their torment. He sighed and leaned his forehead against his arms as he curled in on himself. “I can’t do this by myself, love. I really need you here,” he whispered to the ghost of the girl he remembered, singing in the kitchen with autumn eyes full of love and hope. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was gone, and Athis knew no matter when Nyenna next came home, that girl in his memories would never, ever return.

Challenging Older Chapter: Chapter 12 - What Am I Capable Of? (Arguments, arguments, arguments. Hard to get into the headspace of.)

“I choose what I do with my life,” he insisted, trying hard and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You don’t get to tell me who and what I am capable of saving, even if you are this legendary hero.” And he knew they were fighting words. He knew because lately, especially, things being wrested out of her control caused so much pain and confusion. It was a sore point, an argument waiting to happen no matter who was on the other end. She did level her gaze on him again, and this time he could see a malice behind it, even if it did not belong entirely to her. “So you would have me relive this fear every battle? You would distract me from what I’m supposed to do just because you think I need to be saved?” she said, words icy. And he didn’t mean that, no. He knew she was deflecting. Trying to cover up her uncertainty, her hesitancy. The fact that she didn’t believe in herself, not even a whit, even when he knew she should. “Is that how you see me, Nyenna? A distraction?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. It hurt to dig like this, but they were her words. Could she not hear how absurd this all sounded? She exhaled through her nose. Crossed her arms over her chest. Looked away. “There were minutes in our last fight where I couldn’t be sure if you were alive or dead,” she said after a moment, shoulders sagging under the weight of the revelation. “It was like I was back at the border, watching Eris be cut down, taken from me forever, and all I could do was keep running. I had to leave him behind – couldn’t help even if I knew the magic then. And the ghost of that decision has stayed with me. It is unceasing, relentless fear, Athis. I can’t just make it go away. It’s always on my mind. What could happen to you is always on my mind.” She didn’t exactly answer the question, nor did she apologize for her turn of phrase. But this was the heart of it. Fear. Something he could understand. He peeled one of her hands away from herself and held it in his.

[rainpebble3]

Snippets Someday!

Heh, so I think I was tagged by @thequeenofthewinter @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee @archangelsunited for this! Thank you for the tag and I'm happy to be able to get to it :D

Again, I'm not sure who has all been tagged or not so I apologise in advance for the multi tag <3 :) @paraparadigm @kookaburra1701 @orfeoarte @gilgamish @thana-topsy @tallmatcha @snippetsrus @rhiannon1199 @inquisitiondragonborn @the-storytellers-seer @elfinismsarts @friend-of-giants @saltymaplesyrup @changelingsandothernonsense @thelightofmorning

Rules:

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from: * Your first chapter * Your favorite chapter * Your most challenging chapter Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Seeeing as I mentioned in another post how precious my character Ailith is in her story "The Flames of Justice" (which is complete on AO3 😇) This story was something that was initially meant to be a 5 chapter intro to my fic Snarling Wolves but a friend betaread those first few chapters and she said she needed more to understand Ailith... so I gave her more. 70 chapters more than the original 5 :D

Despite all that I put her through I adore Ailith's character. She will always be so special with me, even if I'm painfully blocked on her latest adventures!

First Chapter - This is where we get to see some of Ailith in her brattiest state. She was described by some as a bit of a Malfoy!

"Miss Copperwing! Are we boring you?" The irritating voice of her teacher broke into her fantasy as he slammed a book on the desk at the front, making everyone jump. She felt the rest of the class eyeing her, hoping to see her taken down a peg or two. Ailith knew they didn't like her... they hated that she was better than them. She also knew she was the youngest in the group by at least ten years which was hugely resented, and she loved showing off in class.

Ignoring her classmates, she smirked at the stuffy Altmer at the front of the classroom. She released a heavy sigh before answering him. "Just a bit, Mr Spellock..." she drawled. As an added insult, she began to chew on a ragged fingernail.

She could almost taste the disapproval from her classmates as it rippled towards her. They tutted and shook their heads. She didn't care, they were dull morons and she enjoyed watching her teacher squirm. Despite beings an arrogant ass and always talking down to her, he wasn't even a master of anything, he hadn't earned the right to teach anyone.

"Well," he frowned for a second. He ran a hand through his golden hair before smirking, "I suppose, to perhaps save us some time, you wouldn't mind explaining to the class what the consequences of magika burnout are?" The class stared silently between the two mages.

"Burnout, hmm..." Ailith picked at an invisible thread on her robes, sounding bored. She gnawed on her lip and sighed more dramatically than necessary. "I guess that would be when you spread yourself out over too many fields causing rapid fatigue, hindered recovery and impaired casting. It could cost your life if you get too carried away or potentially weaken your abilities permanently... Oh! And we have to mention caster's flu, that's a nasty... nasty consequence there." She finished by sucking a breath through her teeth.

Ailith's mother had explained this to her when she discovered her daughter aged ten surrounded by spellbooks from all of the magic schools and practising novice level spells from each of them. Ailith's smirk widened into a grin as Mr Spellock shook his head and took a moment to compose himself. He was getting quite annoyed with her, but now it was the time to put the cherry on top. She stood up and stretched. Everyone blinked at her curiously.

My favourite chapter - Ohh. I don't know how to pick, there were so many fun chapters! I think I'll go for chapter 20 when Ailith gets a talking to from her beloved mentor for being her typically reckless self.

She jumped down and landed in the ash pile. It exploded upwards and Ailith coughed, flapping at the ash cloud.

“Ugh,” she groaned and gagged. It stank of burned troll hair, troll fat and general troll stench. She staggered away, brushing ash off her and followed the corridor into the first hall. Her boots echoed in the silent ruins as she retraced her steps. She soon spotted Master Bedail sitting on a broken pillar reading through the notes she had left with him earlier. He raised a hand warily as she approached.

He realised it was Ailith and smiled, “Hello my dear, how are you?”

“Good! I’m glad to see you here, I was worried.”

“Ah yes, I wasn’t able to get beyond this door. I suppose there was some rubble blocking it from the other side. I’ve been reading through your notes on the crystals… I believe they do have a purpose but I’m not sure what…”

“Oh! I know! I can show you, follow me!” Ailith grinned and turned to head back up to the entrance. She was so excited her walk quickly shifted into a jog.

“What did you find?” Master Bedail asked as he tried to keep up with Ailith who then sprinted towards the entrance.

“Look at these crystals, if we touch them we can see their original bindings!” She called out excitedly over her shoulder.

“How in the world did you discover that?”

“I touched it and felt the power! It was incredible! I read through an Ayleid lexicon before leaving so I picked up a few words, something about protecting the main chamber, intruders will die so on and so on.”

“And you wrapped your hand around this supposed weaponised light?!” His tone quickly lost its enthusiasm.

“Well, yes. It wasn’t activated by my presence, so I assumed it was safe, anyway, I undid the bindings on one and…”

“YOU WHAT?!” he spluttered.

Ailith froze. “I undid the bindings and used it to kill a troll…” she mumbled.

“For the love of Azura, girl!” He shook his head and Ailith felt an embarrassed flush travel up her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it was?!”

Ailith opened her mouth to defend herself but Master Bedail continued, “That magic could have turned on you! It could have killed you or at the very least taken your arm! Do you want to lose part of yourself so easily?!”

“No, Master Bedail…” she bit her lip and blinked against the sting in her eyes. “I could feel the magic, it responded to me so I just… did it…”

He shook his head, “My dear, you must be so careful with your actions. These ruins are incredibly dangerous, their defences have endured for millennia. You may be skilled in magic, and I know you are a thorough researcher but…” he sighed heavily, “For your own safety, try not to be so impulsive with unfamiliar spells.”

Most challenging chapter - Like favourite chapter, I have so many to choose from. I think I shall settle for this snip from chapter 74, when Ailith is a guest at Blue River Prison (A Thalmor Prison mentioned in the Beyond Skyrim: Bruma mod which is one of my most favourit mods!!).

He released Ailith abruptly, pushing her back into the mud. Two guards came from behind her and wrapped her wrists in chains that were staked into the ground at different points, pinning Ailith there like a bear in a trap. She couldn’t move her arms and as she tried to steady her breathing, Rulindil crouched next to her. His beard tickled her neck as he whispered in her ear.

“You have permission to scream, Dartwing.”

Ailith looked behind him and watched some guards approach her with impeccably polished maces that shone menacingly in the rain. They came closer and closer as Rulindil stepped back. Ailith stared frantically between the crowd and the guards but there were no allies, only waves of faces wearing the same expressions of hunger and anger. She was so busy searching for someone who didn’t eye her with open hatred that she missed the swing of the first mace.

[thyandrawrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

What a lovely writing meme, thanks for sending it my way! And thanks to @bittermoonswrites and @draphrawrites for thinking of me as well! I'm answering you all at once 💙

First I have to mention my one longfic, Butterfly Effect. If you're new here, it's an exploration of Dabi, Hawks, and the Todofam. It began as a dabihawks project but then sort of muted into my own idea of how all of these plotlines could've intersected and given the characters closure and healing. As my first and only longfic it has a lot of imperfections, but I hold it very dear to my heart. I even printed a copy for myself and I reread bits of it from time to time

Then for sure Stitches deserves a mention. As you may know from my meta, conflicting relationships rife with miscommunication and ugly feelings are one of my fav things to write about, and here I did just that. Set in a canon divergent timeline, Dabi is taken captive by the heroes instead of Compress and does his time in Tartarus. There, the monotony of his captivity is interrupted by a visit from his mother, and they finally have a chat after 10 and some years

Cold feet is another big favourite of mine. This one didn't get as much attention as some of my other dbhwks works, and I wonder if it's because I write an unpopular, canon-adjacent Dabi that the fandom doesn't much vibe with. But that's exactly what I love about this story! :') Personally, I think this is one of the best Dabis I've ever written. I tried to explore the duality of his need to be noticed and valued for who he is vs his fear of being vulnerable, all filtered through Hawks' similar self-repression & devil may care mask. If you want to make me happy, give this a read. It might not be your cup of tea in the end but it would bring a smile to my face to know you gave it a chance :')

A thousand paper cranes is one of my most self indulgent works, and for that I must mention it. It's an AU where Touya and Keigo were trainees in the same HPSC hero program, until something went horribly wrong. basically it's a childhood friends to villain boyfriends journey with a twist :') I published this way ahead of its time. It would've done numbers if posted today. Smh.

My last fave is a still unpublished work, but if you're curious about it shoot me an ask and I'll share a snip. Since basically all recs on this list are character study pieces, you guessed it, so is this one. This time it's Todosiblings-centric. Pov Touya, post canon, deals with Touya's healing post war and explores his dynamic with all his siblings in an attempt to get them to finally talk about their problems. Actually, someone should kick my ass and tell me to finish it. I exhausted all my meta energy with ch 2 but the Fuyumi chapter needs to be wrapped up so I can post this 😭 smh the writer is such an ass for leaving me hanging like this (I'm the writer)

Thanks again for sending me this question! 💙💙

[tackytigerfic]

WIP Snip

I have lost track of my notifs completely so apols if i'm leaving anyone out. I was tagged in some brilliant brilliant snips that I am so excited to read: this absolute beauty by @sweet-s0rr0w that makes me want to scream with how much i love it and how excited i am that she's writing again; this slice of deliciousness by @wolfpants - my ship on a ship, gimme gimme gimme; and this masterclass in tension by @kbrick (which i believe has already posted and now i'm itching to read).

I have been writing loads but not sure how good any of it is so again apols if this is crap (it is also unedited and i am tired so excuse any errors). This comes from my current longfic WIP - a multiverse fic where, in this world, Harry is still fighting Voldemort. Draco has gone undercover as a spy for the Order and has just joined the Death Eaters. In this scene, he and Harry meet at a safe house and they have sex. Now he has to return to Malfoy Manor.

CW for brief reference to Draco having been tortured by Death Eaters, and the bruises from his injuries, and Harry wanting to do violence in return. Also mild sweary reference to sex.

"I need a Cleaning Charm," Draco said distractedly. "Something subtle. And can you heal anything that looks like I got it while being fucked?"

Harry felt around for his wand and then held it to a mottled bruise on Draco's neck. 

"Can't I heal the rest too?" He traced the horrible bruises that faded out from Draco's ribcage to his sternum. "Those bastards shouldn't get to do this to you."

"Defection has to be punished," Draco said drily. "They'll get bored soon enough, when they see I'm not going to break. But no, leave them. If I heal them it'll only make it worse next time."

Harry let his hands trail gently along the bruising, and thought about all the people he was going to hurt as soon as he got close enough to have them at the end of his wand. 

"Can I do that?" He plucked at the waistband of Draco's trousers, which were loose, old-fashioned fastenings trailing, and then the billowing expanse of translucent silk that Draco wore as an underlayer beneath the robes.

"Tuck me in then, and be quick about it," Draco said ungraciously, but he stood docile and unprotesting while Harry took his time, caressing the silk between his fingers, carefully lacing the ties of the trousers, smoothing the fabric over Draco's chest and then down, lower and lower until Draco caught his wrist.

"I really mustn’t linger," he said regretfully, "but you're really making me want to."

"Right," Harry said. He picked up the ostentatious cloak, which was made of some sort of felted wool so stiff it nearly stood up by itself, and swung it over Draco's shoulders. The Malfoy crest was worked into the fabric at the chest in bright thread. Draco swallowed hard, then lifted his chin to allow Harry to fasten the cloak at the throat with the big silver clasp shaped like a serpent. 

"You're not going for subtle," Harry told him, and Draco looked at him, something helpless in his eyes, then kissed him again, fiercer this time, more lingering. Then he let him go.

When he stepped back, his face was calm and untroubled again, masked in that aristocratic distance that Harry had learned through a hundred tiny intimacies how not to misread. 

"I had better be off," Draco said quietly, and Harry could do nothing but nod.

I am tagging anyone who's writing and wants to share! Also @epitomereally @sorrybutblog @maesterchill @mintawasalreadytaken @oknowkiss @shealwaysreads @sweet-s0rr0w @teledild0nix @vivantesopales

[wolfpants]

wip wednesday (another little snippet from Terrible People)

I've been tagged by @themountainsgreen and @vukovich - thank you both! You can read their brilliant snippets here and here! Meanwhile, here's another little snippity snip from Terrible People, my current Drarry longfic WIP, y'know, the gay cruise one. Soon to grace your shores in 2023.

Edward’s twentieth birthday party at Aunt Andromeda’s cottage in Sussex. That had been the last time they were in a room together. 

Harry had gifted Edward Sirius Back’s old leather jacket. Draco remembers him throwing it onto Edward’s bony shoulders as Edward laughed aloud, thrilled to have a piece of history that told him so much more about his dad’s late partner than any of them ever could.

Draco had followed Andromeda out of the room when she quickly fled it, and he found her outside, in the garden, broken down in tears, joyous and grieving and sobbing and laughing, and suddenly Draco’s gift of a Puddlemere season ticket felt rather shallow and ill-considered.

But then Andromeda had asked him if he was okay. And Draco had stared at the ceiling of his old bedroom in her house later that very night, the same bedroom he’d slept in for four years after Hogwarts when he had nowhere else to go and was supporting himself through Healer training with a bursary fought from the Ministry with tooth, nail, and Harry Potter’s insistence.

And he’d thought about Harry’s big toothy grin as he wrapped his arms around Edward and ruffled his bright hair, and the way Harry’s gaze had slid across the room, as if in slow motion, finding Draco’s. And he’d thought about Harry’s cheeks, flushed copper-pink from a friendly game of Quidditch out in the back garden Draco chose to sit out of. He thought about the turquoise icing smeared on the collar of Harry’s t-shirt after he instigated a bloody food fight, because that’s just the kind of man Harry is these days. Careless, carefree, out of control, and adored by all.

They’re not friends.

No pressure tagging @nv-md @lqtraintracks @kbrick @lettersbyelise @skeptiquewrites @m0srael @mintawasalreadytaken and anyone who wants to play!

[elavoria]

Snippet Someday

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

Alternatively, if you don't write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer, thank you! <3 Going to use my in-progress Dragon Age longfic Knight’s Star [yes it’s had a title this whole time...] because Amaryllia is my most beloved little darling.

First scene, specifically the opening paragraphs of the fic that introduce our heroine and set the scene:

Amaryllia stared into the mirror of the vanity that had been hers for less than a day. So much had happened in such a short amount of time that she felt sure an age must have passed, and yet she looked the same as ever: her bright green eyes stared back at her, gaze unwavering, and the wild waves of her white hair fell to her chest and framed her pale face and pointed ears. All was in order.

She thought of Jowan, now a wanted maleficar, and of Lily, who would be sent to the mages’ prison, but mostly she thought of the people still at the Circle that she would be leaving behind. It was all she had ever known, all she thought she would ever know, and now she was leaving abruptly and unceremoniously, disgraced and honored at the same time. She would miss Eadric and their discussions about elves, and Senior Enchanter Leorah, who was a dear friend and mentor and had only recently been promoted. Mostly, though, her thoughts kept returning to Cullen, the sweet but hopelessly awkward templar whose crush on her she had cherished and returned. She kept replaying their last conversation in her mind—

Favorite scene, oh goodness there are so many scenes to choose from and I don’t like posting my very favorite parts before they’re published because they tend to be very close to my heart, but have this little exchange once Loghain and Amaryllia are finally a couple, because happy Loghain has my whole heart:

He pulled her closer to him and she placed her arm around his waist as well, forcing them to slow their pace.

“We do make quite the pair,” she mused. “The Hero of Ferelden and the Hero of River Dane... I suppose we can only hope that history will be kind to us.”

“History, hmm?” Loghain asked, unable to hide his amusement. “Is it finally my turn to remind you that we still have the rest of our lives to live first?”

She laughed, then said, “You are right, of course. Who knows what the future may have in store. I am willing to face anything, so long as it is with you.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze, and they made the rest of their walk in silence, parting with fond smiles in anticipation of the evening.

Most challenging scene, the honor has to go to the 31k words I spent on Broken Circle, but specifically only the revenant fight since I don’t have much experience with those:

Amaryllia frowned as she called forth more magic from the safety of her pillar. As the swordsmen moved around in a deadly dance of clashing blades, sometimes the others had to risk catching the revenant’s attention to take meaningful shots at it, and she was sure that Alistair and Sten must be tiring despite her and Wynne’s regenerative capabilities. She was being as conservative as she dared with her magic, but even so, her mana reserves would not last forever. There were so many things that could go wrong. Too many things.

She leaned around the pillar and fired a lightning bolt at the revenant, only to gasp as she watched it bash Alistair with its shield. The force launched him into the air and knocked him into Sten, who fell back where he stood. Alistair kept going, skidding across the floor until a pew stopped him with a thud. Seemingly satisfied for the moment, the revenant turned to find its next victim as Leliana stepped out from behind her pillar and fired an arrow through its helmet. The creature hissed in rage and plunged its sword into the ground, leaving the stone rippling as it extended its hand, and before Leliana could fully retreat, it pulled her to it with its magic.

Tagging @nostalgic-breton-girl and @sheirukitriesfandom and anyone else who wants to share!

[theinvisiblequestion]

for the WIP title tag game: "amnesia"

Ooooooh I'm so excited for this one. I don't have much yet except that it's a My Time At Sandrock post-main-quest longfic in which as a result of a bad accident, everyone's favorite yakboy monster hunter, Logan, loses all memory of the entire plot of the whole game and his relationship with everyone's favorite senior builder.

I do have this short snip which kind of gives the vibe:

Sure, he'll gain a lot when he regains his memories, but what will he lose? What did the desert take from him? How had he been worn down by four years in the endless sands, letting it scour his bones clean?

Thank you!!

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Tell us more about "Llats1i p.1" 😍

It's the WIP prologue for my longfic that I plan on posting as of next month! And since any opportunity to talk about my longfic makes my brain go brrrr: The title is gonna be "Little Lamb Among The Stars" and I already have 10k words on notes alone + some finished scenes. I'm still pondering over chapter formatting, though…thus the "Llats1i p. 1"-7? (I think? at this point, my google drive is like my underwear drawer—no need for anybody to see it...😭[including me tbh]) Anyway, I think you actually already commented on this exact WIP once when I posted a snipped for another tag game, so I'm really over the moon rn, icy 🥰

Snippet:

She’d nearly missed the boy in the sea of white daffodils, iris and jasmine shrubs surrounding him; soft moonlight reflected in his silvern locks, making him look as if he were just another flower in his mother’s vast garden.