ForestTeacup

Jan. 2026 edit: Hi I'm Teacup! This is my fic writing blog! Currently into One Piece and Frieren. AO3: ForestTeacup

[forestteacup]

Main tags:

About me

My writing - my fics

Writing - reblogs about the writing process

Individual fics:

One Piece

- A Sky Full of Stars (Alvida & Buggy, friendship)

- Suffering From Success (Shanks/Buggy)

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End

- A Sunlit Promise (Frieren/Himmel)

- The Emergency Flood Survival Plan (it takes a few tries) (Frieren/Himmel)

- Sweet Talk (Graf Dach's servant/sword demon)

[miss-oranje]

the thing is, im always interested in The Paperwork. whenever The Characters moan and groan about The Paperwork and whenever it's left unspecified what The Paperwork entails i go aw... The Paperwork... u dont deserve this attitude, The Paperwork... im sure you're very interesting and important... this is because i like my job at The Paperwork factory and because i like homework and it's also because The Characters often hold positions of power attained through superhuman abilities and enforced with violence and i know that The Paperwork is there, aspirationally, to document their actions and protect people. from institutional neglect and from The Characters. when The Characters ignore The Paperwork to fuck each other on The Desk i think less of them for it. i do.

[comehellorhighwatertheywillwrite]

every time I try to do a time based prompt list I get so sick I can't keep up with each day. there's multiple I still haven't caught up on. I fear them.

[lithi]

HOWLING

Edit:

KFKRKFKEKFKFKEKFKDJSHS

[deputyoptimism]

This one was a request! Ask me to translate things! I'm just doing this for the love of it! Source: Masahiro.

[forestteacup]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 葬送のフリーレン | Sousou no Frieren | Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (Manga), 葬送のフリーレン | Sousou no Frieren | Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Frieren/Himmel (Frieren) Characters: Frieren (Frieren), Himmel (Frieren), Heiter (Frieren), Eisen (Frieren) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Humor, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, the tantrum scene!, Himmel is stressed, Cuddles, falling asleep together Summary:

The first time Frieren cries for three days straight, it's up to Himmel the Hero to develop a plan!

Attempt #1

The first time Frieren threw a tantrum, the Hero Party was at a complete loss.

On the first day, they tried to talk to her. It didn't work.

On the second day, they left her alone. That didn't work either.

Himmel, Heiter and Eisen stood in front of Frieren's rented room, listening in dismay to her wailing for the third day in a row.

"I heard her crying when I woke up at sunrise," Himmel muttered in disbelief. "That means she either cried all night, or she went to sleep, woke up before sunrise, changed her clothes, tied her hair, put on her boots, and then continued crying." He pulled at his hair. "Isn't she hungry? Thirsty? I'm worried!" Himmel's hair was sticking up, a rare sign of stress. He'd forgotten to do his meticulous early-morning hair brushing routine. Again.

"Careful Himmel, you're going to go bald," Heiter smirked.

Himmel glared back. "Don't jinx it!" He put both hands over his luscious locks protectively.

"And when we checked on her at noon today, she was crying into her pillow, and her boots were off. So she takes her boots off to cry in bed and then puts on her boots back on to cry in other parts of the room," Heiter gestured unsteadily, bottle in hand.

"And now it's almost evening, and she's refused the food delivered from the innkeeper. Should we leave the elf behind?" Eisen asked for the nth time on their journey.

"Eisen—" Himmel sighed, turning to the dwarf warrior.

"I'm joking." Eisen put his hands up. "... Maybe."

Himmel put a finger under his chin, thinking furiously. After a minute, he nodded to himself and snapped his fingers. "Alright. I have another plan."

"Third time's the charm," Heiter chuckled, his smile fading as Frieren's wailing got louder.

Himmel solemnly pulled out their bag of super secret savings.

(Frieren was already aware of their secret savings, so this was extra secret.)

Heiter held his hand out questioningly.

"Heiter, take some of this and see if you can find merkur pudding somewhere in this big town—"

"Ah that's right, she loves that!" Heiter exclaimed, reaching for the bag.

"—and don't buy booze. This is for Frieren, not you!" Himmel admonished, holding the bag just out of reach.

"I didn't even think of it," Heiter lied blatantly, reaching again for the bag.

Himmel dodged him expertly and gave it to Eisen instead, ignoring Heiter's offended expression.

"Eisen. Go with him and use some of the money to buy several pieces of the best quality steak you can find. And if that's not enough, well, you might have to…" Himmel trailed off, hesitating.

Eisen tilted his head.

"... buy… multiple… grimoires… " a bead of sweat rolled down Himmel's temple. "We may go broke."

Eisen nodded. "It's fine. This is an emergency. We can always take on odd jobs to refill our savings later."

Himmel smiled in relief. "Yes, Eisen, it is. Thank you. I'm counting on you both. Watch Heiter—"

"Hey!"

"—and do your best. Good luck. If you can return by dinnertime, that would be ideal."

But Heiter and Eisen didn't move.

Himmel blinked. "What's wrong?"

They looked at him pointedly.

Himmel stared back, suddenly feeling cornered.

"And what will you do, Himmel?" Heiter asked, smirking again.

Himmel's cheeks flushed. He took a shaky breath. "I…" His hands, now clutching the edges of his cloak, trembled. Heiter and Eisen noticed, their eyes widening.

But Himmel shook his head resolutely and turned to Frieren's door, squaring his shoulders. His eyes narrowed, a sign that Himmel the Hero was preparing for battle.

"I'm… going in."

Heiter and Eisen went pale.

"You're going to confront her? In person? Alone? Without food? Or drink?" Heiter recoiled in horror.

"You are a true hero," Eisen intoned, awestruck.

"Well, someone has to do it, right?" Himmel stared at the door like he was going to break it down.

"It's probably best that it's you," Heiter nodded sagely.

Himmel's cheeks flushed again. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well." Heiter and Eisen shared a knowing look—then smacked Himmel on the back, cheerfully.

"Wha—" the hero cried out indignantly as he quickly put his hands on the door to catch himself.

"Good luck, Hero Himmel!" The drunken priest and the dwarf warrior gave Himmel a thumbs up before turning away and promptly escaping the second floor of the inn.

In the now empty hallway, Himmel sighed and pressed his forehead against the door, steeling himself.

He remembered his hair and smoothed it down.

He shook his hands to calm their trembling.

Although he was scared, he couldn't leave this to Heiter or Eisen. Not because he didn't trust them.

He simply wanted to be the one to comfort Frieren. It was a selfish wish.

Truthfully, the sound of her cries made his heart ache.

With that thought in mind, he knocked on the door. "Frieren? It's me, Himmel," he called out gently.

Frieren kept crying, her voice sounding strangely far away.

"I'm going to open the door now…" He slowly pushed it open, not wanting to startle her. The door was still unlocked from when they checked up on her at noon. It concerned him.

Then he looked up.

Frieren was on top of the wardrobe.

Himmel closed the door.

* * *

Attempt #2

Himmel speed-walked downstairs to the first floor of the inn. He bumped into Heiter and Eisen, who were asking the innkeeper if they had steak and merkur pudding.

(In hindsight, he could've just told her to jump into his arms. He could've climbed onto the desk beside the wardrobe to reach her. But in his panic, Himmel could only think of one solution.)  

"Himmel!" Heiter and Eisen looked up in surprise. "That was quick!"

"No," Himmel grimaced.

"No?" Heiter and Eisen echoed ruefully.

"I need a wooden crate. Or a box. Something to stand on." Himmel turned to the innkeeper, his smile light but his eyes desperate. "Please, would you happen to have one? It's an emergency."

The innkeeper sighed disapprovingly, her arms akimbo. "So I heard from these two. Making a woman cry is no small matter. Give me a second." She disappeared into the back of the restaurant, leaving Himmel, Heiter and Eisen to stand together in guilty silence.

"By the way, Himmel, why do you need a crate?" Heiter whispered.

"She's on top of the wardrobe," Himmel whispered back.

Eisen looked at the ceiling. "Truly ridiculous."

True to her word, the innkeeper came back with a very, very large wooden vegetable crate. Inside the crate was also a bouquet of roses.

Roses.

For the third time that day, Himmel's cheeks flushed red. He could feel Heiter and Eisen smirking at him again.

"You will have to atone," the innkeeper told him ominously. "We still have steak, but we're out of merkur pudding. You'll have to look elsewhere. Why did you wait 'til the third day?"

Himmel, Heiter and Eisen bowed their heads in shame.

"It's my fault, my previous plans didn't work," Himmel immediately confessed, taking responsibility.

Heiter and Eisen gazed at him gratefully.

Himmel reached out and took the crate and the flowers. "Thank you very much. You have my sincere gratitude." He bowed to the innkeeper, took a deep breath, and walked back into the hallway.

Only when Himmel reached Frieren's door on the second floor did he glance down at the crate again.

"Roses," he muttered in despair. "Why do they have to be roses?" He decided to hide the bouquet behind his back and hold the crate with his other hand. Positioning his shoulder to open the door, he called out again.

"Frieren, it's me, I'll help you get down! Just stay where you are and I'll—"

Himmel pushed the door open.

Frieren was wailing on the floor near the bed, rolling around and clutching her ankle, which, to Himmel's horror, was twisted at a terrible angle.

He dropped the crate and the bouquet.

"Frieren!"

The heavy door swung closed as he rushed to her side, reaching out to her.

Frieren flinched away.

At this distance, it was clear.

His elven love had broken her ankle.

"Oh Frieren," Himmel whispered, "did you jump off the wardrobe?"

For the first time since she started crying, Frieren looked at him tearfully and nodded. She caught Himmel's cloak and rolled until she was wrapped in it, sobbing.

Himmel quickly unclasped it to prevent himself from getting strangled, awkwardly wrapping the rest of it around her, even pulling the hood over her head tenderly and tucking in the cloak's corners so it wouldn't unravel like noodles on a fork. He held her helplessly in his arms as she lay swaddled like a prehistoric toddler.

I can't get Heiter to heal her now, Himmel thought. Not without leaving her alone and in pain.

The innkeeper's voice rang in his head.

Why did you wait 'til the third day?

Words. Distance. Food. Grimoires. Crates. His approach was all wrong.

As Frieren curled into a ball, he realized what he should've done since she first started crying.

All he had to do was stay by her side.

* * *

Attempt #3

The crate and flowers completely forgotten, Himmel slowly stood up and sat on the bed. He pushed himself backwards until he was resting against the wall, slipping the pillow behind him to cushion his back. He carefully maneuvered Frieren so she was sitting upright in his lap instead of lying across it, wrapping his arms securely around her back.

Frieren buried her face in his tunic, still crying.

Himmel's heart swelled at her trust in him. He started to rock her back and forth, like his mother used to do when he was little. She used to sing too, but he couldn't remember the melody. So he began to hum, tunelessly, trying to distract Frieren from the pain.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. "Once Heiter comes back, he'll heal you, so don't worry."

Head still hidden, she nodded, her ears flopping.

So cute, Himmel thought fondly.

Over the next hour, Frieren's crying miraculously became softer, until she was quietly sniffling into Himmel's chest.

He closed his eyes, falling into a warm, relaxed state as he rocked her back and forth. He made up the melody as he went along, trying to capture the comfort of a lullaby he'd long forgotten the words to.

After two hours, Frieren finally relaxed against him, her head still buried in his chest.

After three hours, Frieren's sniffles stopped.

After four hours, Frieren fell asleep.

And so did Himmel.

* * *

Heiter and Eisen trudged up to the second floor, carrying bags filled with steak, merkur pudding and several grimoires. Their coin bag was empty. By the time they reached Frieren's door, Heiter was huffing and puffing.

"We're late, aren't we?" Heiter wheezed.

"Yes, it's way past dinnertime," Eisen agreed.

They both turned to the door fearfully. As they listened, all they heard was silence. They looked at each other in disbelief.

"Either the room is empty…" Eisen started.

"... or Himmel really did it," Heiter finished.

Together, they opened the door.

Caught between the glow of the moon and the darkness of the room, Himmel sat on the bed with a pillow cushioning his back against the wall, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

And in his arms, wrapped in his cloak and leaning against him, was Frieren, sleeping peacefully.

The crate and roses lay strewn across the floor haphazardly.

Heiter and Eisen stared the sleeping pair, then at the crate and roses, unable to make sense of their abandoned state. They glanced at each other and shrugged, then lowered their bags on the floor, backed away, and closed the door.

They stood together for a moment, stunned.

"Himmel is really a hero, isn't he?" Heiter whispered in awe.

"He did the impossible," Eisen nodded in agreement.

* * *

The next morning, Himmel carried the still-sleeping Frieren to the room he'd rented with Heiter and Eisen.

"Her ankle's broken. Please heal it," Himmel whispered, trying not to wake her.

Heiter and Eisen stared in horror at the unnatural angle. They reacted as one.

"How?"

"She jumped off the wardrobe," Himmel sighed.

Heiter and Eisen looked up, exasperated.

Back then, the Hero Party was blissfully unaware of the fact that Frieren's tantrums would become a regular occurrence over their ten-year journey.

[yixaun]

That Sword Demon Hag from Frieren.

[forestteacup]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 葬送のフリーレン | Sousou no Frieren | Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (Manga), 葬送のフリーレン | Sousou no Frieren | Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Graf Dach's Butler/sword demon (Frieren), Graf Dach's servant/sword demon (Frieren) Characters: sword demon (Frieren), Graf Dach's Butler (Frieren), Graf Dach's servant (Frieren), Frieren (Frieren) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, light seduction, Deception, Tragedy, Doomed Relationship, Missing Scene, they have even less of a chance than Frimmel, they don't even have names, the sword demon doesn't even have a tag yet, Age Difference, that's an assumption, Implied Sexual Content, Cautionary Tale, it gets a bit spicy Summary:

What if one of Graf Dach's servants did help the demon steal the sword the second time?

"They say the demon sweet-talked one of the graf's servants into helping."

The elven mage mentioned this casually to the young woman and man sitting across from her, with neither her gaze nor her body language implicating the servant driving their carriage. After all, she was referring to the previous demon. The servant himself barely heard her over the sound of wheels on cobblestone and did not react, merely keeping his calm gaze on the road ahead.

As promised, he stopped the carriage at the marketplace, and got out to open the door for the trio. They bowed to each other, and the servant climbed back into the carriage.

In the sudden silence, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

She didn't have to sweet-talk me into helping her, he thought as he watched the sword demon's murderers walk away. It was simply a choice I made.

(Damp sheets, ragged breaths—)

His mind wandered back to the night he met her—

The demon priestess.

* * *

The servant did not understand how someone could enter the castle undetected, even at night.

That's what he thought when he first met the sword demon.

She was on her knees, holding the heirloom sword in her outstretched hands, tears falling from her blue eyes as she looked at him beseechingly. Her hood had fallen back, making her curled horns clearly visible against her golden hair.

And he was frozen—half in fear, for demons are the natural predators of humans—and half in awe.

She was beautiful.

"Please. Don't kill me. I'll explain everything." The demon's gentle voice was strained with desperation.

The servant swallowed. How could he hurt her, when she was looking at him like that?

Perhaps, by then, he had already fallen for her.

* * *

"It's my family's heirloom," the demon woman murmured, hugging the sword to herself. They were sitting on a bed inside one of the many guest rooms in the castle with the door locked and the curtains drawn, keeping their voices low. He knew he was putting his job at risk, but at the moment he was more worried about the demon woman. She could cut herself if she wasn't careful. He reached out to her—and lowered his hand, thinking better of the impulse. She glanced at his hand and smiled gently, averting her eyes as her cheeks flushed pink.

Goddess, he thought helplessly. He curled his hand into a sweaty fist, resting on his knee with nowhere else to go.

"We've had it for generations. Until humans murdered my entire family. This sword is all I have left of them." She turned her mesmerizing blue eyes to him again. "Humans are not the only ones who have suffered from the war. Is it wrong to take back what is mine by birthright?"

He had to admit, he did wonder why his lord's family chose to keep a stolen demon sword as their heirloom. Of course, it was not his place to question such things. But he had never wondered how the original owner felt about having their sword stolen in the first place. No wonder demons were always trying to steal it.

In the quiet of the bedroom, the servant realized—his lord's family was in the wrong.

The demons were simply trying to reclaim what was theirs.

His gaze went distant for a moment as he mentally double-checked his work schedule and that of the other servants, calculating how much time he could spend with her before his absence became suspicious. Thankfully it was already evening—he and the other servants had already completed all their main duties for the day. No last minute issues so far. And in about one hour, everyone will have retired to their beds.

He was free.

He turned to the woman beside him, his eyes alight with sudden resolve.

"I'll help you. It's rightfully yours, after all. In about one hour, we can leave through the back exit of the castle without running into any of the family members or the other servants."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears again. She clutched something near her chest, her hand trembling. His gaze naturally followed the subtle movement, noticing the way her dress clung to her curves. She was so close, he could almost touch—no. He looked away, frustrated with himself. He could feel her watching him, probably noticing everything.

"'We?' You'd help me? Even though you're human? Even though I'm a demon? You don't hate me?"

He looked back at her, resolutely keeping his gaze on her face only, and tried to smile reassuringly. "No. You've done nothing wrong. If anything, my lord and his family are at fault. I just didn't know until now."

He then felt something inside himself crack as he watched her pull out a carving of the winged Goddess from inside her dress neckline.

"You're a priestess?" he blurted, hating how accusatory he sounded. "I'm sorry, I—" he awkwardly cleared his throat, falling silent. What else could he say? Nothing. He could feel his face burning. He felt so young, so immature, like a boy falling for a married woman. He hasn't felt like this since he was a boy. She could be hundreds of years old for all he knew, now that he thought about it. The thought didn't help. It just made his lust worse. She owed him nothing, and yet he somehow felt betrayed. What was he expecting, to have a relationship with a demon, the one who will steal his lord's sword? He'd be fired. No, he'd quit. The entire town would shun him. He'd have to move, his dutiful reputation would be shattered, but if he could be with her, if they could travel, or—

She's a priestess, he remembered, his thoughts grinding to a halt.

He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, realizing that his intentions may not be as pure as he thought.

She shifted her grip on the sword.

She could kill me, he thought.

Instead, she bent over the edge of the bed to lower it to the carpeted floor.

He could not look away.

Then she gracefully rose back up, turning to press a soft hand on his cheek.

His entire body relaxed, weak under her touch.

"After my family was murdered, I turned to the goddess. She is all I have left. She is truly kind, to accept someone like me as her priestess. And now she has answered my prayers. You are a miracle."

He searched her eyes and found nothing but genuine gratitude. He cupped her hand in his, and her expression crumbled as she buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to stop her tears. Guiltily, he savoured the feel of her warm, soft body going pliant against him, the sound of her quiet moan as he tightened his hold. His jaw went slack; his vision unfocused. His breathing went ragged. He didn't care. For a man who considered himself married to his duty, he was shocked at how alive he felt.

"I'm sorry," he groaned into her neck, where he could feel her pulse racing under his lips. In his stifling suit, he felt like an animal ready to pounce. He didn't. He still considered himself to be, at the very least, a gentleman. "I'm not—this isn't—my intentions aren't—" He growled in frustration, unable to articulate himself properly.

She whimpered in response and he caressed her hair, pressed his lips to her temple, trying to calm her. "If you don't want to, I won't, I'd never—"

"I trust you," the priestess breathed, pulling him down to the bed. "May the goddess forgive us."

He went down with her, feeling released from a cage he didn't even know he was in. And when their lips met, his mind went blessedly, blissfully blank.

They held each other for the rest of the hour. And if he comforted her against the sheets in the darkness of the locked room, no one would ever know. May the Goddess forgive them both.

He was a fool, not just for falling for a demon, but a demon who was also a priestess. For she could never be his.

* * *

In the late evening after his duties are done for the day, the faithful servant reaches the abandoned village the elven mage described in her report to his lord.

He sinks to his knees, closes his eyes, and prays—not for the dead villagers, but for the golden-haired priestess who simply tried to reclaim her birthright.

He wonders, hopelessly, if a demon priestess would be allowed into Aureole.

Then maybe, just maybe, they could meet again one day.

And if the multiple mounds of earth around him are any indication of the amount of people the sword demon killed, he pushes the horror to the edge of his mind, ignoring the evidence that she, like the demon before her, also went on a murderous rampage.

* * *

"Humans also fail to resist their impulses. But as long as humans know desire, demons will take advantage of that." The elven mage sighed, knowing that she was preaching to the converted. It was not her two companions who needed to hear such a warning. But there was no one else to tell.

So instead, she cleared her mind and turned to the marketplace, her eyes already searching for an apple stall.

[animepopheart]

★ 【_】 「 葬送まとめ11 」 ✔ republished w/permission

[animepopheart]

★ 【kuu】 「 🏃🏃 」 ✔ republished w/permission ☆ follow btt’s fanart twitch stream!

[plasmalink]

No googling, curious about something

If someone is "favouring their left leg" as they walk, which leg is injured?

Left leg

Right leg

Voting ended onJan 13

[plasmalink]

Things are going well

[kedreeva]

I reblogged a version WITHOUT the explanation, but I will put an explanation here for those who want it.

The left leg is injured.

Whether or not you think this is a good phrase or not, that's the meaning. You can look it up.

A lot of folks in the notes are explaining why they thought it was the right leg, and most of those notes boil down to "because you're using the right leg more because it's your favorite/preferred leg." And that's not a bad assumption, especially for ESL folks that haven't otherwise encountered an explanation of this phrase! There are probably similar phrases in other languages and I'm sure there's at least one where this phrase in that language means something else because language is like that. But this poll is in English, so presumably the question is about the English phrase, and obviously there's a lot of folks who don't know what it means in English, given the current results.

And to that end, "to show favor to" and "to have a favorite" are actually different, or at least have different uses in English. To show favor to something is to give it special treatment (in this case, treat carefully/be kind to), versus to have a favorite which expresses having a preference for the thing. Something does not have to be your favorite (or honestly even preferred) to show favor to it, even though the two often go hand in hand.

However, in this one case, you ARE giving special treatment/being kind to (ie staying off of) your injured leg, rather than preferring to use it (ie, staying on it).

BUT. Even if you want to argue that it should refer to a favorite and don't understand why it's still not that... let's look at another situation that might help you understand. Let's pretend you work a job where it's you, your boss, and your coworker Bob. One day you bump your head on something and get a bit of a headache (nothing huge, you could still work if you had to, it just kinda sucks), and your boss tells you oh man, don't even worry about it, Bob can do most of your work, you have a sit on the couch to rest and recover and let me know if you need anything at all. Although Bob can, indeed, do most of your work for the day, he is not thrilled about it as it will stress him more than usual; and your boss isn't giving him a choice in the matter anyway. He's going to do more work while you have a little snack and sit down and do some light, easy paperwork.

So the question is, do you think that Bob (the uninjured leg) is the favored employee in this case? Do you think the one being made to do MORE work (the uninjured leg) is the person your boss prefers, or is it you (the injured leg) who is allowed to lounge on a couch and rest? Or... in the event that your injury actually prevents you from working well, is it just that Bob can do the work at the moment and you can't, so he's the one being asked to do it, regardless of preference? "being used more" and "favorite" may not always be synonymous.

Realistically, you're unlikely to change the actual meaning (it's been this meaning for at least a few hundred years at this point). Maybe it'll change over time on its own with use, words do that. But this is what it means now, in English, and why. If you want to be understood in writing (fics or whatever), "favoring their injured leg" and "preferring their uninjured leg" might be a good way to go about differentiating it.

[that-fandom-goddess]

Things I've learned while writing fanfiction

These are based on personal experience of posting on Tumblr, AO3 and Wattpad. This was made to inspire, encourage, and educate others both new and experienced authors.

General knowledge:

Write those ideas down, no matter how little they might seem. Keep a list of dialogue and plots you come up with because you might be able to use them in the future.

Don't (knowingly) incorrectly tag things. It makes things harder and can discourage hopeful readers.

'x' and '/' are inherently romantic (ie. character x reader, character/character). Platonic relationships should have '&' instead of 'x' or '/'.

Always have a backup of your works. Things can go wrong and can get deleted or not save.

Every platform has a different audience. Don't be afraid to post in more than one place.

Before you post any works on a new site, read at least a handful of stories first to familiarize yourself. This will help you understand formatting and systems authors use.

Tumblr Specific:

It's good to have a pinned masterlist at the top of your blog. It keeps things organized and makes finding your works easy for a reader.

Some things that might be helpful to have on your masterlist can include if requests are open, rules for requesting, notable tags, ect.

At the top of each chapter or one shot you publish, it's always helpful to have some information. (Links to series and main masterlist, age rating, warnings, word count, a description, or anything else you want the reader to know or have.)

Reposting and Rebloging are two different things. Reposting is copying that work and posting it on another site or on your blog without permission (Not Okay). Rebloging is just putting that work on your blog with proper credits and not copying it (Encouraged!).

Archive of Our Own (AO3) Specific:

Don't write directly on the site! Things do not automatically save and will be lost if the page reloads.

AO3 is an archive and does not use algorithms to promote works. It is instead organized with most recent things at the top. This is why the tagging system is so important!

There is no official AO3 app!

Locking your fic will prevent bots commenting and harassing you by hiding in a guest account, but will also limit activity and traffic. You just have to figure out what you prefer.

Wattpad Specific:

Wattpad is a good place to make plans and notes for fics to start. I use it as a way to keep track of ideas and keep notes of current works.

Great place for original stories and has the creators program to encourage them.

It uses an algorithm to recommend works on your home page as well as when you're reading a fic.

You can see a lot about your readers through story stats (genders, age groups, countries, etc). This can help find a target audience.

At the end of the day, you write for you. If you are happy with your work, that is all that matters.

[animepopheart]

★ 【Arkilide】 「 Frieren 」 ✔ republished w/permission ☆ follow btt’s fanart twitch stream!

[pantserspen]

How to Fix Underwriting

1. Slow down at emotionally important moments.

Big emotions need space to land. If a scene feels rushed, pause the plot briefly to show how the moment affects the character.

2. Add reactions, not explanations.

Instead of explaining what a character feels, show it through physical responses, hesitation, or small actions that reveal emotion naturally.

3. Ground every scene in the senses.

If a scene feels thin, add one or two sensory details—sound, texture, smell, or temperature—to make the moment feel lived-in.

4. Let thoughts interrupt action.

A line of internal thought can deepen a scene without slowing it too much. Thoughts show stakes, fear, longing, or conflict beneath the action.

5. Expand consequences, not events.

You don’t need more things to happen—you need to show what matters. Focus on how events change relationships, decisions, or self-perception.

6. Strengthen setting where emotion peaks.

The environment should echo or contrast the emotion of the scene. Setting is not decoration—it’s emotional reinforcement.

7. Add specific details instead of general ones.

Underwriting often relies on vague language. Swap “they argued” for one sharp line of dialogue or a specific breaking point.

8. Let dialogue breathe.

Short dialogue exchanges without pauses can feel flat. Add beats—silence, gestures, interruptions—to give the conversation weight.

9. Show transitions between scenes.

If scenes jump too quickly, readers feel disoriented. A brief transition helps establish time, mood, and emotional continuity.

10. Clarify stakes early in the scene.

If readers don’t know what can be lost, scenes feel empty. Make sure the character wants something specific and fears losing it.

11. Use the “what are they feeling right now?” check.

After each major beat, ask what emotion is dominant in that moment. If it’s missing on the page, the scene is likely underwritten.

12. Expand scenes that feel “too clean.”

If a scene resolves too neatly or quickly, it probably needs more tension. Messy emotions and unresolved feelings add depth.

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