fanfictionloveletters - Tumblr blog

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Title: None What I’m calling it: Pride Paint Author: @mourntheantagonist Fandom: Stranger Things Word Count: 1277 Ship: harringrove

Love Letter

@mourntheantagonist is such a treat to read. They have a master post that I’m still not done going through, but I’m pretty sure this is the first one I read that they wrote. This one is soft and it’s nice to read something so soft for the harringrove community. There are several that deal with the physical and psychological ramifications of being posessed, drinking bleach, being taken hostage and beaten bloody, but this isn’t one of them. As much as I love heavy writing, on occasion it’s nice to just read something pleasant.

The premise is a simple teacher AU where Steve is a big favorite and Billy is new and still carving out his spot. The story follows the tradition of painted ceiling tiles as gifts for favorite teachers. It’s impossible sweet. I can’t really say more about it beyond requesting that if you read it, if you liked it--TELL @mourntheantagonist . If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

I am about to as always digress for a moment here So from this point on it’s more of a fan community PSA.

I had to stop working on this little passion project of mine because we were recently forced to move and there was no internet for an extended period of time, but I felt a renewed need to do it after I returned and learned between my posting about @inkedplume’s writing and today, they have deleted their blog or at very least changed urls. And while I do not know their reasons, I will dare to speculate on at few things.

I follow a lot of writers on my main account, and many of them discuss this feeling writing their hearts out, spending hours collaborating, only to have very few people engage with them about their writing. As you know I searched for hours to find @inkplume’s writing. @mourntheantagonist writing is another one I didn’t keep complete tabs (screenshot where a notification blocked the username) on because I was working on mobile. It occurred to me that maybe I need to explain what I mean when I post this

If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

at the end of every post

The harringrove community feels small. There are a few players in the game ( @memes-saved-me @smashmouth-hargrove are some that spring readily to mind) who create content that runs the gambit. But other communities are very big and it’s easy to be one of many shouting into the void. If you as a community member read it, and you like it, at least repost it. Hell repost it and say thank you. Shoot, comment on it and say nice. Anything that will make the writers feel like it’s more of a conversation rather than just screaming into the void.

Look, I get it that you’re scrolling in bed late at night, or early in the morning, or hell on the toilet and you read something and you’re like, ‘oh cool that was nice’ so you hit the like button. Just hit the other button slightly to the side of that one and write one thing you liked. None of this is new information, but as someone who collects stories to write lengthier love letters for, I am watching writers give up. Don’t just consume. Show appreciation.

I had a cute teacher au idea

so you know those ceiling tiles in schools? the rectangular ones? you know the ones. well anyway, at my school and I know many other schools, students would often paint a ceiling tile either for extra credit or as a gift for their teacher.

so I’m thinking, art teacher steve and new in town english teacher billy.

because steve is both the art teacher and well liked among all his student, his ceiling is completely full of paintings, not a single bare tile. but when billy had arrived to his new classroom, all the tiles were completely white and bare. the teacher before him had taken them all with her when she left so they were replaced. billy didn’t even know it was a thing until he’d entered some of the other teachers classrooms and saw almost every teacher had them and he’d be lying if he didn’t feel a little left out. but hey, maybe he could just offer extra credit to his students if they made one.

except they reach the last day of the semester, and none of his students come in with a painted tile.

and to make matters worse he has an after school meeting that day and their holding it in mr. harrington’s classroom. billy had seen him around school and was undeniably attracted to him. he was cute always walking around in a paint splattered apron and he’d only ever heard good things from other students and the staff.

and all of that was confirmed when he saw his ceiling. most teachers had maybe five or six painted tiles but his was covered in beautiful artwork. he spent the whole meeting staring up at each tile because he was completely mesmerized. steve noticed but chose not to say anything. instead finding his way to billy’s classroom after the meeting had ended and peeking through the window of the door to see the blank ceiling.

he waited for spring break, which was just around the corner, to acquire a spare ceiling tile and take it home with him. propped it up on his easel and pulled out the acrylics and the closest picture he could find resembling the blue camaro that roared into the parking lot everyday.

when he finished the painting, just in the nick of time, he arrived to the school much earlier than he usually did when it was still dark. he bribed a custodian to let him into billy’s classroom where he quickly popped out a center tile and replaced it with the painting of his camaro. sure to lock the door behind him, leaving no trace of him other than the painted tile in his classroom.

when billy got in that day he was stunned to say the least. the painting looked almost like a picture. he probably would have a sore neck the next day from looking up at it for so long. his students kept asking about it. asking who did it and he just had to say he didn’t know. he wasn’t sure who had done it, but he had an idea.

steve had been coming around his room a lot more frequently than he had before. dropping in during his lunch to say hi or borrow markers that he damn well knows steve already had. he was the fucking art teacher for god sake. and just before they were let out for break they had had an innocent conversation about billy’s car. that couldn’t be a coincidence. could it?

somehow his students must have been reading his mind because as they were all discussing who it could be, the girl sitting at the front of the class with her sketch pad on her desk says “looks a lot like mr. harrington’s work”. and suddenly the class breaks out into unorganized chatter. only picking out a couple of phrases from the chaos that make his heart flutter. “that’s adorable!” and “mr. harrington likes mr. hargrove!” and it takes billy everything inside of him not to ask “you think so?” instead of shutting them all up and telling them to open their books.

instead of confronting steve about it, he waited for steve to inevitably show up during his lunch break to ask for some other art supplies that he definitely already has. which he did. colored pencils this time.

all of his suspicions are confirmed when steve walks in and actively avoids looking at the ceiling. like it’s very obvious he’s trying not to look. so billy makes him look. “see the new ceiling tile?” he says.

“yeah it looks great. who made it?”

“I was thinking you could tell me that.”

steve’s eyes get wide and he starts laughing uncomfortably with a hand pressed to the back of his neck. stuttering his words.

“did you paint it mr. harrington?”

“I might’ve. how did you know?”

“apparently my students seem know your art style very well. also our conversation about my car last week tipped me off.”

“oh yeah that. I was hoping you’d forget.”

billy can see he’s nervous, which is odd. he’s never seemed like the person to get nervous about his artwork. maybe his students were right about the other thing too. but that’s wishful thinking.

“thank you. for the tile. It meant a lot to me.”

“you’re welcome.” he can see steve start to relax a bit more.

and billy decides, fuck it, and goes for it.

“my students also have this idea that this means you like me. were they right about that too?”

he doesn’t immediately deny it like billy expects. no. steve blushes. he fucking blushes. and that is all billy needs before making a glance to door to make sure it’s locked and the window is covered before gently holding the tip of steve’s chin in between his thumb and index finger, slowly angling him down, and capturing his lips in a quick but deep kiss. steve doesn’t pull away. just lets his eyes fall shut and kisses him back.

and that’s just the beginning of their relationship. their fist kiss underneath the ceiling tile that started it all.

eventually news travels around school about the two of them after a student found steve on facebook with a picture of the two holding hands at the beach. billy freaks out at first, having previously taught in an environment that was definitely not okay with teachers being out and proud. but the two are met with so much love by their staff and students and they all think that it’s super cool that the “first and second coolest teachers in school” are together. they’re both always arguing about who is first and who is second.

there’s still the occasional student who will say the wrong thing. he’ll sometimes overhear kids whispering about the two of them, using slurs, and billy is always quick to shut that down. and despite billy not taking shit from little high school freshman. it hurts a little bit sometimes. sometimes he doubts his students are actually okay with it or they just think it’s all a joke.

until it’s the last day of school before summer, and the girl who sat at the front of his class who was never anything but sweet, walks into his class after school with a large rectangular object in her hand.

it’s a ceiling tile.

six painted stripes in the order of the rainbow. it’s a pride flag.

she doesn’t say anything before dropping it off. just gives him a shy smile before walking out the door.

and billy could cry.

okay he does cry.

he definitely cries.

#harringrove #stranger things #billy #steve #21.01.13 #preachypsa #mourntheantagonist

386 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

dimples, curls, and freckles

Title: dimples, curls, and freckles Author: @nicolorenaldigenovia Fandom: The Old Guard Word Count: 1017 Ship: joe&nicky Summary: Nicky smiles then and shakes his head, going back inside the change room, and closing the curtain. He starts to carefully take off the trousers. And like he had expected, it’s a challenge. Just before he can pull them past his hips, he feels the fabric start to give and he sighs. It’s not a big deal if he ends up buying them because he had ripped them, but he’d be much happier if that doesn’t happen. He hears Nile walk back into the change rooms on the other side of the curtain and he groans. “Hey, you may need to help me out in these. They’re just too tight.” There’s a pause and a shuffle. “Uh, I can, most definitely, mysterious voice with a sexy accent behind door Number 4,” says a soft, teasing voice, and Nicky freezes, eyes widening. Not Nile. Most definitely not Nile. Love Letter: This one is just so damn cute you guys, and hinges on one of those universal experiences. You know how changing rooms are actually a section of penance in purgatory for those who have committed all kinds of sins (mild gluttony, occasional sloth, side -eyed envy--not actual serious sins), this is just where Nicky finds himself. The premise is one of being trapped in an article of clothing and needing your friend to help you get out of the garment with out breaking, but someone else overhears. It's little things that make this fic fun. The initial reaction and description of Joe's voice, teasing because hell yeah a sexy voice just asked him to help him out of his clothes, shifts into earnestness as he genuinely wants to know if Nicky needs help sight unseen. It's soft and sweet. But it's also funny. There is an exchange at the start between Nile and Nicky as he tries to explain that he is dummy thicc and if he bends overs eyes buggin', jaws droppin', and asses clappin' . And the humor is kind of the easy to overlook for most just there for the meet cute, but that might be my favorite part.

#old guard #kaysanova #immortal husbands #Nicky and Joe #nicolorenaldigenovia #graphic pending #21.01.13

10 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Destroying Angel by K_K_TiBal

Title: destroying angel Author: K_K_TiBal Fandom: Supernatural Word Count: 772 Ship: Destiel (ish?)

Summary: “We’re supposed to be their shepherds, not their murderers.” “Not always, Angel. There was that day back in Egypt not so long ago where we slew every first born infant whose door wasn’t splashed with lamb’s blood. And that was just PR.” “Well, I wasn’t there.” “Oh, you were there. You just don’t remember it. “ “How many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?” “Frankly? Too damn many.”

Love Letter: K_K_TiBal does something I haven't seen done purposefully or well ever. She does a dialogue only fic that that does a beautiful job of showcasing how stubborn Castiel has always been when it comes to protecting humanity (no seriously humanity, not just Dean). If you hate song fics, don't worry, it's not like that. The idea hinges on how many times has had to dawn the crown of thorns and be reset for his disobedience to heaven. I almost wish it had a longer fuller version that spanned several chapters called The Miseducation of Castiel.

You know you read enough fanfiction and it's all kind of predictable and familiar. That's one of the reasons you lean into it, you know? But then you get lucky. I've been missing for a few weeks for a few different reasons, but one of which is that I was reading a lot of things that we're even remotely interesting. They were nice, like eating potato chips. You eat a handful, then another, then another, and before you know it you've eaten the whole bag, but did you really have a meal? This was a meal. At 772 words it gave me things to turn over in my head while I was trapped at work.

I read this one late at night weeks ago and marked it to write this love letter and as time went on and I couldn't get this posted. BUT of all the fics I'd marked, this is the one that blazed clear as HAVING to get more attention. Guys it has 1,102 hits, 269 kudos, and 25 comments at the time of writing this. This is quite literally sum ole bullshit. Please give it some love.

#SPN #destiel #castiel #k_k_tibal #21.01.012 #graphic pending

0 notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Title: {None} What I am calling it: Sharp Edges Author: @inkedplume Fanom: Stranger Things Ship: Harringrove

Love Letter So, as usual, I have never read anything by @inkplume and the adventure it was to find and then find this writing again ought to tell you, how invested I was about writing this love letter. Dear readers, I had one hell of a time finding and then finding this fic again. So if you're interested in that journey please skip to the read more. If you don’t have time or do not wish to have that scene, you may, of course, ignore it.

So I never watched the last season of Stranger Things. I could not tell you if it was because the season dropped at a time when I didn't have time or if I just felt like the second season had closed up shop well enough. By the end of season two the only thing I really wanted was for Steve to have better things because I felt like he had grown. So with that being said, this is yet another fanfiction love letter for a fanbase I tripped over and then decided to set up shop in.

Steve’s used to deafening silence in the early mornings. There are occasions where he wakes to clanking of pots from the kitchen where his mom’s stress cooking. Usually those are the mornings after a fight with his father. Sometimes there’s the scratching of his cat on his bedroom door or carpet. Other times it’s the cawing of the crows or the cooing of nesting pigeons from the tree outside his window. He isn’t used to waking up to cursing every damn day.

This is some gorgeous little lineage. I'm a sucker for a contrast point. I realized just how much of a little punk I am for it when I read A Thousand Splendid Suns and Khaled Hosseini would end slices of writing with a line that undercut the last page of writing. *Clutches pearls* Oh my word...what happened to change things? *hunkers down to read* The basic premise is that post mind flaying of Season 3 Billy is crashing at Steve's place. Except you know PTSD. So at night Billy wonders a bit when he can't sleep. One evening Billy is shaving and Steve finds him and offers to take him to a barber.

“I don’t want a barber,” Billy grumbles back. “I just want to do shit myself. Ever since I got out of that hellhole, everyone’s been treating me like. Fuck. Look. I appreciate the sentiment, Harrington. I do. I know all,” He pushes himself upright and turns around to lean his ass against the sink. “I know all of it is coming from a good place or whatever. But can you please. Please. Leave.” [...] Steve easily pinpoints the relief briefly crossing his features. Like everything he just said was mechanical. Like he’s so used to pushing people away that he’s forgotten how to, not.

Oh baby, me too. I feel that. Can't depend on people, the only person you can count on is yourself. What follows is one of the softest scenes that has nothing to do with them, a relationship, or anything of substance. Steve just treats Billy like a normal (or as normal as Billy pre mind flaying can be considered) conversation. The whole thing, I won't quote more because I don't want to spoil the softness of the scene that follows, feels intimate. I feel almost like if this scene were on film the musical accompaniment should be the piano version of "Enjoy the Silence" ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbWtlyYZBDg ) or acoustic version of "Wicked Game " https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUaRPpnsfb4 would play except that season 3 takes place in 1984 and both the originals of those songs aren't recorded until 1989.

If nothing else, I did start watching season 3 of Stranger Things now thanks to this fic and a few others I will be writing love letters for soon.

Yesterday was a drop day. A day where all the hard things of being an adult moving through a pandemic filled world became too much. I very much dislike my job (understatement) and there are other issues my partner and I are facing that are starting to very much fuck with some of Maslow's Hierarchy of needs. So yesterday, I was in bed and I cried for most of it. Cried and slept when I cried myself to sleep, and then I'd wake up and scroll for a while on tumblr. This is how I spent my day off from my job. Someone posted something that lead me somewhere and eventually got me to this fic. I would say it was @leathdesires posted gifs from the show with altered subtitles and then I got lost in the art of the tag , and then I got to reading the writing of the tag. I found this story very early on in the weep, sleep, repeat cycle. I read it, I smiled, and I said to myself, "I want to do a love letter on this one tomorrow. Cue the next day, I wake up much earlier than I need to and I start looking for the fic to write the love letter--EXCEPT I CAN'T FIND IT. Why? Didn't reblog, didn't like (the version I originally read had an image attached to it), just missing. So I go into the Harringrove tag and proceed to spend on and off three hours trying to find this thing. Along the way, I picked up a lot the feel of that community. @wrecked-fuse and @zayacv are to Harringrove what @orientalld is to QuiObi. @yikesharringrove almost broke my whole spirit because on my quest to find this fic, I swore they wrote it. This is not a bad thing. Not even a little bit. The problem was that I thought it was one of their pinned to the top posts. Surprise it wasn't, but you know what? All the time I spent around there made me find another fic I plan on doing a love letter on. So win-win. (Also, they have a patreon. Support them?) So finally I went to Google. And let me tell you what. I had to poke around my depression/anxiety rattled mind and pull out a phrase so that Google could find what I wanted. And I remembered.

He isn’t used to waking up to cursing every damn day.

That's right. Writing so good that even through the haze of existential crisis I could pluck it from the either to find it anew.

Steve’s used to deafening silence in the early mornings.

There are occasions where he wakes to clanking of pots from the kitchen where his mom’s stress cooking. Usually those are the mornings after a fight with his father. Sometimes there’s the scratching of his cat on his bedroom door or carpet. Other times it’s the cawing of the crows or the cooing of nesting pigeons from the tree outside his window.

He isn’t used to waking up to cursing every damn day.

Keep reading

#stranger things #harringrove #steve #billy #21.01.11 #inkedplume

429 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Tinsel and Tourists by starrynightdeancas (Destiel)

This originally posted independently of the master post. WHOOPS.

Tumblr master post

Title: Tinsel and Tourists

Author: @starrynightdeancas (multifandom_fanatic)

Fandom: Supernatural

Word Count: 37,853

Ship: Destiel

Summary:

When Sam and Dean arrive in Evergreen, Vermont to investigate a string of disappearances, Dean is not exactly in the holiday spirit. Disillusioned by his stint in hell and recent conflict with angels--not to mention missing people--he feels like there just isn't much to celebrate. Well, that is until he meets Castiel, a local who exudes the Christmas spirit, and Dean's cold heart begins to melt with sip after sip of the local hot cocoa. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas has been hurt before and is shy to give his heart to someone just passing through. It will take all of Cas' best friend, Libby, and Sam's ingenuity--and maybe a little Christmas miracle--to unwrap all the hidden feelings the two are hiding from each other.

Love Letter:

So first and foremost, is a Hallmark movie high art? Hell no. But it's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be so saccharine sweet and comforting that you are then able to turn around and face the COVID-19 hellscape that is your life. Not everything in the bookstore belongs in the "literary fiction" section. It can be a great thing, but it can also make you throw your hands up and tell that nice customer service person that you just sent away that yes, yes you do need help because you know the alphabet and you know the author but it's not here. And then they remind you of the "genre fiction" sections. And there is something to be said for those sections of the bookstore.

But I digress. As always.

"Tinsel and Tourists" is a great "genre" read that @starrynightdeancas has produced. It checks all the boxes of a feel good holiday movie. I had just finished watching The Christmas Inheritance ( ) on Netflix and I was just in the mood for more of the same flavor of sweet. Y'all the first eight chapters alone hinge on hot cooca. Yes. YES. Yes, it is that kind of teeheehee sweet read.

Play bingo with it, make it a drinking game. It literally has everything.

Hot cocoa. Check.

Tree lighting. Check.

Failed mistletoe kiss. Check.

Meddling secondary characters. Check.

Almost hand holding. Check.

Ice skating. Check.

Dead bodies. Check.

Mentions of ritualistic sacrifice. Check.

What more could you need? What I think I like most of all is just when everything might be too sweet, it switches gears HARD into a monster of the week episode.

Cas let out a cry of pain, and Dean stumbled towards him, spinning at the last second so he was standing protectively over Cas. “Lay a hand on him again, and I will rip you to pieces,” Dean said, voice deadly calm as he realized it was the honest to God truth.

“You don’t have it in you,” the druid snarled.

Dropping into a combative stance, Dean raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Do you not know where I’ve been for the last 40 years? I was mentored by the greatest torturer in Hell. I know ways of ripping you apart that you couldn’t even begin to fathom,” Dean threatened.

Hell yeah Dean. Get you man. Now that the holidays are over, It makes me wonder what @starrynightdeancas would do if they focused just on that sort of action style writing. I just found them recently, so I haven't had a chance to really look at their Ao3 account, but if anyone has a recommendation about something more focused on "guns blazing" by them, please let me know.

Tinsel and Tourists Masterpost - A Hallmark Christmas Fic

Summary: When Sam and Dean arrive in Evergreen, Vermont to investigate a string of disappearances, Dean is not exactly in the holiday spirit. Disillusioned by his stint in hell and recent conflict with angels–not to mention missing people–he feels like there just isn’t much to celebrate. Well, that is until he meets Castiel, a local who exudes the Christamas spirit, and Dean’s cold heart begins to melt with sip after sip of the local hot cocoa. What Dean doesn’t know is that Cas has been hurt before and is shy to give his heart to someone just passing through. It will take all of Cas’ best friend, Libby, and Sam’s ingenuity–and maybe a little Christmas miracle–to unwrap all the hidden feelings the two are hiding from each other.

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Tags: Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Hallmark, Hallmark Christmas Fic, Christmas, Meet-Cute, Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Season 4, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunter Sam Winchester, Human Castiel, Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Decorations, Hot Chocolate, Cliche, Chef Castiel, Diners, Christmas Romance, Romance, Flirting

Special Shout-outs: To @castielwnovak for the beautiful cover art designed like a Hallmark movie poster! To @unamusedelipsis for helping with the amazing summary and title! To @carry-on-my-wayward-hunter for being my incredible beta!

Chapter One: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Two: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Three: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Four: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Five: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Six: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Seven: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Eight: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Nine: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Ten: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Eleven: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twelve: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Thirteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Fourteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Fifteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Sixteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Seventeen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Eighteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Nineteen: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty-One: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty-Two: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty-Three: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty-Four: tumblr / ao3

Chapter Twenty-Five: tumblr / ao3

Tag List Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)

Keep reading

#destiel #spn #castiel #dean winchester #21.01.10

310 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

The Bluebell Line and west of the west trees

Double Header Title: The Bluebell Line and west of the west trees Author: LittleLynn Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 11,459 and 5,059 Ship: QuiObi

Summary:

The Bluebell Line

Obi-Wan was feeling foolish. He had lived by the forest for his entire life, the idea of getting lost in it after two decades was absurd, yet here he was, walking around in circles, unable to find his way.

west of the west trees

A blight on the crops, for the second year running, had been too much for anyone to bear, and certainly too much for Obi-Wan’s heart as he watched the children of the village begin to thin and struggle. So he had gone into the forest, west of the west trees where no one was supposed to go, and he had sought out the fae that lived there, the one that was whispered of in every settlement bordering the Brackenwood.

Love Letter: I can't recommend LittleLynn enough. Their grasp of pacing and characterization makes it clear the thought and time that is poured into writing even the shortest work. I believe these two should really be read as a set of two very different versions of very similar stories. It's almost like a summer versus a winter version. One where Obi-Wan stumbles into Qui-Gon by being foolish and then chooses to return; while in the other one, Obi-Wan feels like he must go to Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon has no idea what to do with it. One is infinitely warmer than the other, but hey are both beautiful. I will confess I just finished reading Angela Carter's The Blood Chamber which has a story called "The Erl King" (page 57 and you’re welcome) which has an ending I don't particularly care for. I felt like after reading these two fics that Little Lynn would have written a better ending for "The Erl King" I always enjoy LittleLynn, and really it's the details that make me come back to their writing over and over again.

Obi-Wan looked up again when he heard another rustling through the trees, something bigger coming his way now. He tried to push the cats behind him, as if he could protect them somehow, completely unarmed and helpless as he was, but they were jumping excitedly, yipping around him and wouldn’t be corralled. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, wondering if he should have hidden, but then through the trees a voice called.

LittleLynn manages to do so much with Obi's character in a limited space. This section from The Bluebell Line has Obi-Wan. They place him in danger with mentioning a larger thing moving through the forest, but in the same section shows him as being selfless, ready to defend the cats even though he is lost in the forest. It's so much characterization work that many writers, even professional ones, skip right over.

He was finding his way back to his room, though he would prefer the library to be his room, when he saw the flicker of a tall figure disappearing around a corner. His breath catching, Obi-Wan ran to catch up, his feet somehow noiseless on the earthen ground, the corridor seemed to yawn out in front of him, moving but never closing the space between them. He pushed himself, and finally the figure came into view, the strong, broad back, long brown hair, big hands hanging at his sides, a stately stature amid the trees, made them look timid and small.

This passage from west of the west trees again is doing that heavy lifting that makes LittleLynn such a wonderful writer to spend time with. The sense in this passage is one of struggling and not receiving the feedback you need to feel like you are actually getting anywhere. The lack of sound, the lack of visual, and at this point in the story, Obi-Wan is so....overwhelmed with loneliness that finally seeing the figure for a moment is monumental. It's something I can't convey here with only this passage, but trust it's something that LittleLynn builds and builds so this small sentences feels like a huge payoff. If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic (or the other one) and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

#Littlelynn #quiobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon/obi-wan #star wars #au #medium #21.01.09

1 note · View note

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

🙇‍♀️ Okay. Thank you.

Also 🙏please write more soon🙏.

Eleusian Mysteries by Amuly (The Old Guard Nicky and Joe)

Title: Eleusian Mysteries

Author: Amuly / @everybodyilovedies

Fandom: The Old Guard

Word Count: 25735

Ship: Nicky and Joe

Summary: When Nicolo becomes immortal, he knows there must be a reason behind it. So he begins a search through time and space to find his answers. Yusuf tags along with him, because like it or not, their fates are clearly intwined. (and then, eventually, they fall in love, so that’s a good reason too).

Love Letter:

I’ve never read anything by Amuly , and I almost didn’t read anything by them at all. I had just finished reading a really awful piece where dubious consent doesn’t even cover it when I stumbled on to their writing. Ladies, gentlemen, people who identify as other….this author wrote the coming together of two people in the most subtle manner using mostly mathematics. I am not a math person, but when a truly romantic person only has mathematics to express themselves, the words that happen are so staggeringly creative.

Throughout the text, we are constantly told that Nicolo is horrible at picking up new languages while Yusuf kind of inhales Greek and exhales Hebrew, wash, rinse, repeat with any new language. This is vital because Nicolo is on a quest to find the answer to a very simple question: God, what is it exactly that you would like me to do with all this immortality you have given me? So while Nicolo is amazing at math and uses his skills in math repeatedly (almost like in Night Vale’s Condos )to find their way in the world, he would not be able to take any steps forward in his personal quest without Yusuf. It’s also clear that for Yusuf, the answer to the question is simple. What to do with all that immortality? Love this man, and do the good work of helping people who cannot help themselves as we go forth–for the greater glory of God.

It’s beautiful–and infuriating–reading Nicolo not get that simple idea for decades. While walking through sandstorms rescuing children, drowning in sand, in water, carrying children through jungles, helping the defenseless and the poverty stricken–doesn’t matter Yusuf can’t draw it in crayon plainly enough for Nicolo. His obsession grows and almost becomes a sorrow–but Yusuf will not allow it to consume him. Additionally, Nicolo is, of course, to within everything they are doing to see the bigger picture. Clearly a repeat of the film’s idea, but this feels like the genesis of Nicolo’s ethos that informs the movie.

And while the romantic moments are soft and not the main focus, when Amuly decides to do it, THEY DO IT

“Nicolo di Genoa: I would follow you through the seven gates of Jahannam and back, beyond the greatest seas and beneath the deepest caverns. I would build a tower to the moon and trek over its quintessent mountains, build a ship with sails made for navigating the celestial ether and pluck the stars from their firmament, all if you commanded it.”

“Yusuf,” Nicolo sighed. He cupped his hand to Yusuf’s cheek, heart breaking with the love he saw written across every line of his face. Yusuf covered Nicolo’s hand with his own. “I would never command you.”

“My love for you commands me,” Yusuf proclaimed.

Or in another part of the work

“Do not say such things about yourself, my love, my soul, my heart. How could you ever think you burden me? That I am not here because I will it? Your body is my body, your soul is my soul. If your mind is burdened then my mind is burdened, and my feet walk with your feet until both our minds are put to ease.”

“But you have your answers,” Nicolo insisted, trying just one more time. “You said, decades ago: Allahu Akbar.”

“Allahu Akbar,” Yusuf agreed. He pressed a lingering kissing to Nicolo’s forehead before pulling back to meet his eyes again. “Nicolo: every day, you do the work of God’s greatness on Earth, because every day you do good. How could I ever want to be somewhere other than basking in the reflected glow of divine goodness made manifest?”

And there is more you guys. There is so much more to love in this set. So far, after looking at Amuly’s Ao3 page, I can see that they usually only do a handful of stories for any fanbase. I burned through all of them for Nicky and Joe in a day, and couldn’t be happier. Trust me, take the weekend, use your day off and read these. You will love them.

#💌 speaks to authors

18 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

@everybodyilovedies I saw your reblog and looked in the tags. I realize now that I came off poorly, and would like to clarify. I didn't mean to imply that you "weren't doing enough." It's more of a "enjoy what you can." I'm mobile so when I went to Ao3 to quickly take a look at how many more fics you had for tog I saw this.

Small numbers, but now today when I went back and actually looked at the top I saw this.

I apologize if I gave offense. If you'd like me to take down what I wrote, please let me know.

Sorry for being one of 'those' people.

💌

Eleusian Mysteries by Amuly (The Old Guard Nicky and Joe)

Title: Eleusian Mysteries

Author: Amuly / @everybodyilovedies

Fandom: The Old Guard

Word Count: 25735

Ship: Nicky and Joe

Love Letter:

And while the romantic moments are soft and not the main focus, when Amuly decides to do it, THEY DO IT

“My love for you commands me,” Yusuf proclaimed.

Or in another part of the work

“But you have your answers,” Nicolo insisted, trying just one more time. “You said, decades ago: Allahu Akbar.”

#💌 speaks to authors

18 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Eleusian Mysteries by Amuly (The Old Guard Nicky and Joe)

Title: Eleusian Mysteries

Author: Amuly / @everybodyilovedies

Fandom: The Old Guard

Word Count: 25735

Ship: Nicky and Joe

Love Letter:

I've never read anything by Amuly , and I almost didn't read anything by them at all. I had just finished reading a really awful piece where dubious consent doesn't even cover it when I stumbled on to their writing. Ladies, gentlemen, people who identify as other....this author wrote the coming together of two people in the most subtle manner using mostly mathematics. I am not a math person, but when a truly romantic person only has mathematics to express themselves, the words that happen are so staggeringly creative.

Throughout the text, we are constantly told that Nicolo is horrible at picking up new languages while Yusuf kind of inhales Greek and exhales Hebrew, wash, rinse, repeat with any new language. This is vital because Nicolo is on a quest to find the answer to a very simple question: God, what is it exactly that you would like me to do with all this immortality you have given me? So while Nicolo is amazing at math and uses his skills in math repeatedly (almost like in Night Vale's Condos )to find their way in the world, he would not be able to take any steps forward in his personal quest without Yusuf. It's also clear that for Yusuf, the answer to the question is simple. What to do with all that immortality? Love this man, and do the good work of helping people who cannot help themselves as we go forth--for the greater glory of God.

It's beautiful--and infuriating--reading Nicolo not get that simple idea for decades. While walking through sandstorms rescuing children, drowning in sand, in water, carrying children through jungles, helping the defenseless and the poverty stricken--doesn't matter Yusuf can't draw it in crayon plainly enough for Nicolo. His obsession grows and almost becomes a sorrow--but Yusuf will not allow it to consume him. Additionally, Nicolo is, of course, to within everything they are doing to see the bigger picture. Clearly a repeat of the film's idea, but this feels like the genesis of Nicolo's ethos that informs the movie.

And while the romantic moments are soft and not the main focus, when Amuly decides to do it, THEY DO IT

“My love for you commands me,” Yusuf proclaimed.

Or in another part of the work

“But you have your answers,” Nicolo insisted, trying just one more time. “You said, decades ago: Allahu Akbar.”

And there is more you guys. There is so much more to love in this set. So far, after looking at Amuly's Ao3 page, I can see that they usually only do a handful of stories for any fanbase. I burned through all of them for Nicky and Joe in a day, and couldn't be happier. Trust me, take the weekend, use your day off and read these. You will love them.

#tog #the old guard #nicky #joe #nicky and joe #amuly #everybodyilovedies #medium work

18 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Note

Heya, depending on your fandoms I think you might like something by the writer catbythefirelight on AO3! She has some Dramione, Zutara and Yuri On Ice works. “Build me up, strip me down” or “You’re the lure” are pretty great. Just reccing :)

You're my first rec🥳🎉

I love Yuri on Ice. I watched it as it was airing in Japan so I was up at ungodly hours trying to watch the fan subs before going into work.

Shamefully, I haven't watched Avatar. I need to. I know. I'm late. I need to move it up on my timeline.

Those titles seem really titillating. I will add them to my list. Thank you so much for taking the time to send me something to read.

~💌

#rec #asks #anon #💌 answers

0 notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

i give to you by treescape (The Mandalorian Luke and Din)

Title: i give to you

Author: treescape @tree-scapes

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Word Count: 1096

Ship: Luke Skywalker and Din Djarin

Summary:

“They’re lovely,” Luke said, and if the pleasure in his voice seemed genuine, his brow furrowed slightly in consternation. Din shrugged uncomfortably, because what was he supposed to do—bring a gift for the kids and nothing for their teacher?

Or, Din's been accidentally courting Luke.

Love Letter:

I read @tree-scapes all 👏the👏time👏. It started with to dream and to wake which @orientalld created art for. It was such a soft image I had to know the story. Treescape is an unstoppable writing force within the Star Wars Universe. I’ve never read her Obi and Anakin writing because I don’t care for Anakin in general, but the way @tree-scapes writes relationships, it's hard not to just nod along and go with the romance. They are also an unstoppable creative force posting constantly.

I digress. As Always.

If you haven’t seen The Mandalorian, you may not know that Luke and Din meet for maybe ten minutes tops, but the way treescape presents the interactions, it makes perfect sense for them to gravitate together. This fic is very sweet in it's presentation of how love sometimes grows not in the constant presence (like Nicky and Joe from the Old Guard), but in the spaces of absences. A pair of gloves to keep a hand warm and safe, (or is it to hide one that others might find shocking?) a blanket that reminds you of the lush world that person inhabits...it's sneaky this thing called love and seems to strike when you're not paying attention.

When treescape finally has Luke ask the meaning of the gifts, it's the most nonthreatening conversation for two people slowly beginning to explore the feelings between them. I am hoping that she continues to grow this relationship. She also has the art of missing Din Djarin which feels like a companion piece to this one and also the that is sweet as well. I would be interested in reading in reading something similar from Din's perspective.

I recently read on treescape's end of the year tumblr post that they only started writing QuiObi ( perhaps fanfiction in general and I am remembering incorrectly) in February of this year. So there is a small chance I can catch up on everything they have wondering around their account.

Tangentially related, Is this considered a crack pairing by some people? I only ask because my partner, as I have mentioned before, is a life long Star Wars and fan, and while stuck in traffic I mentioned this pairing to them. Their response was wonderful. They paused, tilting their head silently, and came up with, 'Well I always thought of Mando as asexual, but I think Luke might also be that...so maybe together they could have company and not be so lonely.' It's only in the last year or so that I've brought them in my world of fanfiction reading. They thought that Cobb Vanth would be a more popular choice to draw Din from his shell. I haven't read anything about Cobb and Din, but I'm not against it if anyone has a recommendation. I've just done a search...treescapes has at least 2 mentions of Cobb. And the phone has just informed me that they just posted another Luke and Din fic called teach me (to know you) and a QuiObi one called legends and stars . I told you they were an unstoppable force. Subscribe to this person. You won’t regret it.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #tree-scapes #treescape #short #21.01.07

16 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Snow Fall by Senlinyu (Dramione)

Title: Snow Fall Author: @senlinyuwrites Fandom: Harry Potter Word Count: 7120 Ship: Dramione

Summary: The first holidays married should be perfect. If only it weren't for all those pesky social obligations that are almost impossible to get out of.

“We have to go very slowly,” she says, fighting to keep her voice even and biting back a moan. “To stay warm—” Her voice breaks off in a gasp as he caresses her just the way he knows she likes it. She pulls his hand away and pushes him down until she’s on top. “You can’t just grope me indiscriminately,” she says with mock severity. “ I have to show you how it’s done. There’s a specific technique to all this.” He narrows his silver eyes as he stares up at her, pale skin and hair gilded with firelight. “Yes. This appears to be extremely scientific.”

DHr Advent 2020.

Love Letter: @senlinyuwrites is prolific. I hesitate to write this love letter because she is of such legendary literary status within the fanbase. I actually wanted to do something of hers earlier, and a different short piece, but this one spoke to me on a more personal level.

The basic premise is as a married couple Hermione and Draco are working around a busy schedule of trying to visit family and friends during the holidays. Except that it's all Hermione's friends. And oh yeah, the whole opposite sides things...yeah. It's a lot. The premise is simple, but what I like most about it is that it explored some common issues that couples have to navigate every year.

As I said, personal connection, this year was the first time I have been able to spend Christmas with my partner just the two of us. Yes, wrap your head around that. If you've read my other love letters, you know that we have been other 15 years, and we have never had Christmas to ourselves. Traditionally we separate and spend the day with our respective families (these are not there and back in one day commutes either) or my partner's family will be in our home for a week or more. There are some specific things that make this particularly undesirable, but I won't go into them. So, that's a strained relationship for me to say the least.

So this fic spoke to me when Draco is presented, cooking, but probably being crushed by the weight of the obligations around him. Trying to play nice with his less than favorite people, possibly disappointing his parents, trying to make his partner happy. It's a crushing load.

His voice is light, but she recognises the lurking expression in his eyes. It’s the way he looks when they’ve been anywhere for too long and he feels viscerally out of place. It’s been eating at him, accumulating from one evening out after another, and now it’s all surfacing. The hidden exhaustion of being tolerated.

Oh yes, and the epergne.

“It’s very intricate,” she says after several minutes, trying to imagine it in the centre of their table, which can only seat four comfortably, or six uncomfortably. It is the most intentionally useless gift she has ever seen.

My partner's family has purchased an ironing board for us one Christmas, a steamer the next, silverware, a hand mixer.... The pair eventually indulge in each other under the humorous guise of shared body heat. It was good to read a story that made it clear that taking care of each other as a couple (in all senses of the word) isn't selfish. After years and years of being guilted for our time during the holidays, it only took a pandemic to make it happen. From here forward, the love letter derails. Less about the singular piece and more about senlinyu as an enormous gift to the fan community.

If you haven't, you should read her flagship piece Manacled. I will say it is a heavy piece, a long piece, and a piece that will haunt you for a very, very long time. I read it in the first few weeks of my country's lockdown...and I needed it then, but I don't think I am strong enough to read it again soon. I will tell you that there are several people who read it more than once. I am not one of those brave soldiers. I think about scenes she wrote often...and wish I had it in me to be that sad again.

As I mentioned before, she is legendary, and I don't use that word lightly. Let me give you some examples of her influence. I believe Manacled partially inspired @omfgreylo to do book binding. If you're interested in Dramione or Reylo fanfiction being converted into hardcover books you can own, you can join her Patreon and see when she has slots available. That's right. Writing so good, people are going out of their way to find a way to immortalize it in the physical realm least it be lost. Additionally, The Nooblifer has been working on the Manacled Audio book for over a year. There are several other pod cast and audiobook versions of her writing. Including the fic that this was originally supposed to be about. That's right, writing so good, people are working to find a way to make it accessible to everyone. And that's not even discussing the multiple languages her works have been translated into. Don't even get me started about the artists--Dear God. Avendell is currently the accepted choice for Manacled, and praise the lord for all the work elithien have done to create their stack of collaborations. The latest one I saw was Jaxx In A Box for this particular fic. So, in short, whenever senlinyu finally tells us what Booker Prize award winning writer she is in real life, I plan on going out and buying out everything she has written that I do not already own. And if by some ridiculous twist of fate, she is not a Booker Prize Award winning writer already, I stand at the ready to purchase her original works to make it so. If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

#senlinyu #hp #snowfall #jaxx in a boxx #the nooblifter #elithien #21.01.06

42 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Title: What the Water Gave Me Part 1 (Please Read all of them) Author: @rauko-creates Fandom: Supernatural Word Count: ??? (The last part hasn’t posted yet, but if I had to guess it’s less than 7k) Ship: Destiel Love Letter: I have never read anything by @rauko-creates and to tell the truth I'm no idea how I found this fic. Reblog of a reblog, I suppose, but I am so glad that I found it. And really, the importance of community and connection I keep harping about. Rauko does a beautiful job of shifting between narrative voice and Dean's casual tone when in inner crisis. My favorite showcase of their talent is probably the second part "The Curse" and part three "Lesson in Cas."

Another wave rose up and hit Dean in the chest, pushing him back onto the sand and retreating away from him with Castiel. Dean watched helplessly as the water completely took Castiel over, then sank, pulling Castiel beneath the waves.

Dean grit his teeth. So that had been Gordon’s trap. Dean’d had more than a few run-ins with Gordon. The guy was way too overzealous with his hatred of anything not human. Sure, they’d worked together in the past, even been tentative friends at times; but this particular pressure point had eventually broken that. They just never could see eye-to-eye on the idea that not everything non-human was inherently bad.

Some people might not appreciate the shifting voice, but I like the artistry of the narrator contrasted with Dean's salt of the earth casual phrasing. It makes the moments when Dean is struggling with his feelings more believable for me because I get the sense that Dean would struggle to have the external vocabulary, hell, maybe not even the internal language, for dialogue to talk about his feelings. Recently an green heart anon on Rauko's blog asked if there were some recommendations they might offer. I, for one, plan on digging through those, and I recommend you do the same. When Rauko decides to give otherworldly and romantic a go it's breath taking. I am now asking myself if this writer has a Ao3 I'm missing out on. If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

(I fell asleep on the couch one night and dreamed of fae!Castiel crying to the ocean about the man with love in his eyes but not in his mouth. Decided I’d write it down…)

“The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that.”

— Salma Deera, Letters from Medea

The First Time

The first time that Dean ever saw him, he thought perhaps the guy belonged to one of the races of elves. After all, he sort of looked the part, with his long, flowing robes and otherworldly beauty. The quiet steps and confident eyes didn’t argue against the idea, either. But when Dean addressed him as such, he simply laughed and shook his head before disappearing.

The Guardian

The second time Dean saw him, he wondered if he was some kind of forest guardian, perhaps a Ngen or other nature spirit.

Dean was helping a neighbor with a hunt. A bear had been getting into their hives and tearing up their honey supers. Dean had mixed feelings about the task, but Rufus had been set on dealing with “the menace,” and Dean wasn’t about to let him go alone.

They had tracked the bear pretty deep into the woods when Dean spotted it, but there was the strange man also, standing in the way, glaring daggers from where he had placed himself between the bear and the hunters. That glare unearthed and aggravated every ounce of hesitation that Dean had been feeling about this hunt since Rufus first talked him into it.

Dean looked to his friend, trying to decide what to do. Rufus hadn’t seen them yet; should Dean point them out? The bear was what they were out there for, after all. And yet…

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, Rufus? What do you say we head back?”

Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re kidding. Boy, don’t tell me you’re wimping out on me already?”

Dean tried not to look towards the bear and its silent guardian. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Nah, I just don’t think we’re gonna find anything out here. Besides, we’ll probably have better luck by just beefing up the defenses around our hives so our unwanted guest can’t get in anyway. Look, if it ain’t this bear, then it’ll just be another one. What good’s tracking down this one animal even gonna do?”

“You’re just whining ‘cause you slipped in the creek earlier and got your pants and boots all wet.”

Dean rolled his eyes even as he steered Rufus back towards their houses. “Whatever, man. You got me. Let’s just go home.”

The Fae

The third time, it was night. Dean was sitting outside his home enjoying the stars and the warmth of a small fire.

The forest guardian appeared suddenly and silently beside Dean, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. The maybe-sort-of-spirit stared at him wordlessly, eyes narrowed and head tilted, as though Dean were the mystery here.

Dean tried to calm his pounding heart. “Are you a spirit?” he asked. After all, there was something ethereal and almost insubstantial in the way he seemed to easily appear and disappear.

The maybe-spirit just looked amused. “No, I am not that either.”

Dean jumped to his feet as the mystery creature made to leave. “Wait!” he pleaded, holding out a hand.

The being glanced cautiously over his shoulder at Dean, not turning back fully…but not yet leaving, either.

Dean took it as a win. “What do I call you?”

He frowned at Dean. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me anything.”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, sure. What I mean is, what do you want me to call you?”

Keep reading

#destiel #rauko-creates #spn #au #21.01.05

80 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Note

Title: [None] What I'm calling it: "Because I still love you" prompt from @just-a-boat-just-a-bird Author: @nicolodigenovas (Lyde a vanvera) Fandom: The Old Guard (Netflix) Word Count: 2,903 Ship: Immortal Husbands Nicky and Joe

Love Letter: I would like to say that I have zero familarity with The Old Guard comicbook series. I'm more of a Saga, Deadly Class, and manga kind of person. I'm not saying I'm not open to it, but I wanted to get it out of the way. I hadn't heard of the comic until after the Netflix film. In this AU, Joe is a writer that has just written 'their' story, and then abandoned engineering professor Nicky. This, not the idea of living almost forever, is the most unbelievable part of the writing. This is an AU so there is no immortality, but who could look into those soulful eyes and walk away? *cues the music* With that being said, I greatly enjoy seeing someone write Nicky as angry. Not a hot, destructive fury that we usually see when people write anger, but instead Nicky's anger is expressed not in an excess of feeling, but almost the absence of it. It's almost like, if you angered him you lose the right to seeing his feelings. It's not quite the Michael Corleone "ice" anger from the Godfather novel, but I feel like it's a cousin. This doesn’t last long though, but I’m tempted to say that Lyde does one even better. The reade sees and experience a lingering sadness. I would say that in the writing, it’s almost like watching someone limping emotionally, trying to hide their sadness rather than purse their anger. Joe is also characterized by a kind of sensitve brashness that I'm not sure how to explain. If Nicky is limping, then perhaps Joe is simply slowly bleeding to death. A death of a thousand cuts, if you will. The reader is really living the moment through Joe, not NIcky, so you feel his realization that Nicky may no longer have a space for him in his life. You feel that pain, and you also feel how...disheveled and desperate he is in his excuses.

Their reality was a mix of too many variables to fit inside a single paragraph, no matter how many times Joe tried to write the perfect ending in his head.

The softest, most beautiful part might be that even though Joe has, unquestionably failed, Nicky lets him back in so gently and sweetly. A simple, “you can have anything you want from me if you just ask.” It's such a painfully hopeful and lovingly written story that I am now asking myself if this writer has a Ao3 I'm missing out on. If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

I have a prompt for joe/nicky (of course - I didn't know if I had to specify): "Because I still love you"

Hope this works!

This ask was wonderful, thank you 💞 I promise it has a happy ending!!

Yusuf thought he knew Nicky, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing him this angry. It wasn’t anger exspressed through loud recriminations, twisting his face in a sneer, painting his cheeks red, the kind of reactions Yusuf could describe in one of his books. Nicky was looking at him with eyes like mirrors, pale blue reflecting back every defect Yusuf found when he looked at himself in the morning. Like Nicky could read perfectly well why Yusuf had come back. Nicky could read him, and he’d already found most of the the bad parts.

Nile had told Yusuf he could be like this, but he’d never been in the position to witness what she meant until this moment.

Nicky can be scary when he’s really angry. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice or tell you he’s pissed off. It’s just that a moment before his face is blank, then you see how much he feels everything. I know it doesn’t seem like it, he’s very controlled all the time, but you’ll see it sooner or later. She’d looked at him, then, pensive, as if she was evaluating him. She’d smiled not unkindly. That is, if you decide to stick around.

Anger was mixed with hurt in the way Nicky had spoken, voice low and vibrant with emotions, when he’d seen Yusuf standing in front of his door. Three months had passed since the last time they saw each other.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I still love you.”

Apparently, it was this easy to solve things, a nice passage in the resolution at the end of one of Yusuf’s novels —Look, Nicky, don’t you think these two sentences fit nicely together?—but reality was much more complex than that. Their reality was a mix of too many variables to fit inside a single paragraph, no matter how many times Joe tried to write the perfect ending in his head.

Reality meant that when Yusuf looked at Nicky, he didn’t see just anger. He also saw how Nicky was gripping the door, as if he needed strength, he’d seen how Nicky had looked at him, time frozen, the moment he’d opened the door. For a split second, Nicky had looked relieved and happy to see him.

Then he’d almost slammed the door in Yusuf’s face.

“Please, Nicky. I want to talk,” Yusuf stuck his foot in the doorway, knowing fully well that if Nicky didn’t want to talk to him it wouldn't help. Instead, Nicky just looked at Yusuf leaning awkwardly on the wall, his clothes wrinkled from the trip, and exhaled.

“Come in.”

Nicky stepped back quickly, careful to leave space between him and Yusuf. To think of all the times Yusuf had received a complete different welcome –Nicky smiling wide, laughter bubbling up as he took Yusuf’s hand and dragged him inside, kissing him before they even remembered to close the door– Joe couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness and regret.

The flat was just as Joe remembered it: an orange sofa with blue and yellow pillows occupied one wall, opposite to the television, and closer to the entrance a long and narrow table was covered in books. An old single silver candelabra stood on top of the biggest pile, it came from my nonna’s house, Nile finds it charming.

The table could technically fit up to six people, those sitting on one side being basically trapped against the wall, but Yusuf mostly remembered the nights when everyone in their group managed to eat around it, sitting on terrible ikea chairs. Lykon and Andy at the head of the table, Quỳnh and Nile laughing near Nicky, then Booker, his wife, Copley and Joe himself, his hand resting on Nicky’s under the table.

When Joe used to stay at Nicky’s, they usually left only two chairs by the ‘study table’, so that they could work side by side –Nicky preparing his classes, Joe writing– but now Yusuf could see just one chair, in front of it ‘I Promessi Sposi’ left among the engineering books like an afterthought.

The missing chair was just a chair, he thought. But it was also the result of a deliberate decision, and Joe didn’t know if he was feeling sorry for himself, not having a place beside Nicky anymore, or for Nicky, who had decided he couldn’t stand the sight of the seat Joe’d left empty. For someone used to explore feelings like Joe, loneliness was something you could see, hanging in the air like fog.

It was a few minutes after 9pm and the air smelled faintly of smoke. Nicky only smoked when he was alone, rarely with Joe. It gives me time to think. Wait, are you drawing me? I don’t hold the cigarette like that, you make me look debauched.

I was going for ‘well-fucked’, which is the truth.

Nicky was leaving them time to think, but he kept his thoughts to himself. If he saw Yusuf noticing that their photo was missing, a gap between the photo of Quỳnh, Andy and Nicky on the women’s wedding day and the candid shot of Nile and Nicky dressed in fluorescent jackets for a weird project back in their uni days, he didn’t show it.

Nicky’s job of deleting Yusuf’s traces from the flat was impressive, a clean cut. Not even Yusuf’s yellow scarf, which had ended up on top of a sideboard after a wild night of Scrabble –yes, Scrabble, there were too many teachers or writers in their little group– had been spared.

“You put away our photo,” Yusuf said, eyes on Nicky. There it was, the hurt, naked and ugly on Nicky’s face, and it nearly broke Yusuf right there and then.

“You left.”

Their story —ending— made sense.

Yusuf could swear that it had made perfect sense. Who fell in love in six months and moved to another city for a guy you’d just met? Nevermind how wonderful he was, how you fit together. Nevermind that he was the perfect height to kiss him, that he had an adorable, rare laugh –a snort, really– , that he cooked while listening to music and danced terribly only when he had an audience he could trust. Nevermind that this guy’s best friend was shocked by how easily he’d let you in his life, the level of trust you’d been granted. (Nile had looked at Yusuf with a hint of mistrust, ‘I’m his best friend. It’s my job to wonder if you’ll stick around.’ )

Yusuf remembered freezing hands on his eyes and Nicky speaking softly in his ear, ‘I hope you like this, happy birthday Joe’, and then a cake and a new notebook on the study table, a surprise made with such care that Yusuf had felt his heart beating fast like after eight cups of coffee and an all-nighter. They’d known each other for a week by then. Yusuf was the one who followed his heart, but not this much. Not when he cared so much he was scared to admit it to himself. He also had duties, to his family and friends and at work, that he couldn’t forget.

“Of course I did. I had to. I have a book tour, I have... a life.”

It made sense.

“I have a life too, but I made space for you,” Nicky said. Nicky who thought he couldn’t speak well like him, yet could always say what he meant in front of Yusuf. Nicky looking—betrayed, that’s the word Yusuf would have used in one of his books. He noticed Nicky was wearing a blue fleece sweater he associated with sad, cold nights. Nicky gave things an order, like a good engineer did. There was a language you had to learn in order to understand him. Nicky had confessed that Yusuf was coded with a warm orange highlighter: the colour of dawn, autumn and tangerines. Yusuf wondered if Nicky still liked orange.

“I made space for you,” Nicky repeated, tone heavy “I fell in love with you and you never stopped me, not once. You never said we were going too fast. You held me close as much as I did.”

Nicky was right.

Andy had been the one to introduce them properly. They’d actually met at her wedding, but it hadn’t gone really well, the conversation between them going from stilted to confrontational to awkward again. They just hadn’t clicked at all, and it was a pity because even if they lived in different cities they shared most of their closest friends. Yusuf couldn’t understand the appeal of the engineer and his ill-fitting shirts, especially because he’d heard Quỳnh praising his company more than once. Nicky had told him quite plainly he couldn’t stand his ‘lit student snobbishness’. As far as disastrous first meeting went, it was worthy of a world record. It took them six minutes and thirty-five seconds before Nicky stormed off and avoided him for the rest of the day.

Andy had tried introducing them again three months later. Somehow, maybe because this time Yusuf was in Nicky’s city feeling a bit lost and lonely and Nicky wasn’t half drunk on wine, things were different. Very different. “I told you you would like him” different. “What do you mean he told you you could stay at his place instead of a hotel” different. “I think I love him” different.

“You’re right. I know I fucked up. Can we please talk about this again?” Yusuf tried, trying to get a grip. He couldn’t let the familiarity of the flat muddle his thoughts, not when Nicky seemed so far away from him, even if they were in the same room.

“Please look at me, Nicky. You know I regretted my words as soon as I reached the train station.”

Nicky finally looked at him, and in his eyes there was the spark of kindness that Yusuf loved more than anything in the world.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Nicky asked him.

“I hear sleeping on that sofa is a privilege few people have been granted.”

“Yeah, only best seller writers with charming smiles,” Nicky said. As soon as the words left his mouth he seemed to realise how soft his reply had sounded, how in tune with Yusuf’s light tone, but he didn’t look away. Yusuf was the one who lowered his eyes.

Nicky offered him some leftovers and Joe ate in silence while Nicky cleaned the kitchen around him. Joe had always loved that room the most, because it was small, square and luminous, perfect to write or sketch alone in the early morning after prayer. Nicky knew this, of course. They’d been together for six months, the time it took Joe to write his last novel, but during that time secrets had been spilled one after another in the soft safety of their bubble.

“I know why you’re here. Why now, I mean,” Nicky finally said, while he was still drying one last plate in his hands.

“You know me too well, Nicky.”

“I know you well enough.”

Yusuf didn’t like the subtle jab in Nicky’s words, he didn’t want to lose the calmness of the surreal evening.

“Well, why am I here?”

“Because you published the book.”

Joe was surprised, to put it midly. He had expected a Nicky-sentence, short but full of feelings, something on the lines of “Because you realised it’s worth it”, or “Because you want another chance and now you can take it”. He knew Nicky knew about Joe’s plans to move closer to Andy and Quỳnh, which also meant closer to Nicky, under the excuse that Andy was his editor.

But Nicky was talking about the book. About ‘Moonshine’, now available in every bookstore, the dark blue and silver cover designed by Joe himself.

“I don’t understand.”

Nicky raised one eyebrow, then left the room without a word, leaving Yusuf confused and alone in the kitchen.

‘Moonshine’ was going to be his big book. His best of the best. Joe knew it, Andy knew it. The only way he could surpass that would be by changing genre altogether, a challenge he was secretly looking forward to. He’d written ‘Moonshine’ in record time, five months, four of them in that same kitchen, or on Nicky’s bed.

It was the thing he’d missed the most after he left Nicky, the moment before falling asleep, when Yusuf looked back at what he had written during the day. Nicky sometimes read over his shoulder, or let Yusuf read out loud the passages he liked the most or hated.

“What do you think?”

“I love the conflict you set up, I really wish I could read what happens next.” Nicky looked at him, Joe was starting to find endearing everything about him, even the dark circles under his eyes. In the partial dark of the room, Nicky looked soft, as if he had been painted by someone who loved him wanted to capture him at his best.

“Why are you focusing on the conflict, this is a romance novel. I just read you the big kiss scene, don’t laugh!”

“I try to appreciate the themes of the story and you just want me to be happy for Luca getting his big kiss? Okay then, how serious of you.” Nicky kissed him from a weird angle, not caring when Joe’s reading glasses partially got in the way. “I love how you wrote their love. I love how their kiss felt a hundred years in the making and inevitable. You are an incredible writer, Joe, and I’m so lucky to witness your talent and be loved by you.”

They’d forgotten about the book after that, Joe remembered. Of course, he thought. I am an idiot.

Nicky came back, but Joe already knew what he had in his hands. It was ‘Moonshine’, paperback edition, the cover removed like Nicky always did when he was still reading a book.

Nicky was standing still in the middle of the kitchen, flipping quickly through the pages until he got nearly to the end of the book. He looked up from the pages for a moment, as if to make sure that Joe was still in front of him, then he started reading out loud.

“He could point out many good reasons why it would be wiser for him to leave the city,” he started, his voice wavering for a second, “but every time he seriously considered leaving, something made him change his mind. It was mostly Luca the one making him stay, he realised, as one realises obvious things almost too late. Luca would say something like: ‘We will have time to fix it in the summer,’ and all the good, valid reasons to leave before that time disappeared.”

Yusuf had forgotten how to breathe. He was standing now, looking hopelessly at the spectacle of Nicky reading his own written words.

“Not leaving wasn’t a sudden decision, but more of a collection of missed occasions. Every day he had a hundred chances to leave and don’t come back, to leave and forget verdigris eyes looking at him with fragile hope, but by the end of the day, he was still in the city. He was still with Luca, nevermind the Plague–”

“Nicky.”

“You wrote us the perfect ending,” Nicky smiled sadly, closed the book.

“One where I didn’t leave.” Yusuf said, mostly to himself.

“One when I was enough to make you stay.”

“Nicky, it is not like that. I needed time, I needed to understand if we were real, if the happiness I was feeling wasn’t just me getting lost in a parallel dimension where all I had to do was write and wait for you to come back from uni so I could be with you again.”

“Our six months weren’t a fucking holiday for me, Joe. You made me feel like I was just a parenthesis in your life, leaving as soon as the book was almost over, I felt insignificant,” Nicky replied, shaking his head “ I know I stopped answering your texts and I only made things harder, refusing to talk about us when you were still here, but I was hurt. I needed time as well to forgive you.”

“Did you? Did you forgive me?”

“Our love story is a New York Times best-seller,” Nicky huffed. “I was trying to hate you while reading this, but it only made me realise how much I missed you. I know you love book endings, but we’re not a story you can write.” Nicky left ‘Moonshine’ on the table, his eyes not leaving Joe. “You have to stay and finish it yourself.”

“I could never write well enough to give you justice, Nicolò.”

“Then don’t. I told you, you just need to stay.”

“You put away our photo,” Yusuf said, but it was an half-hearted attempt to make Nicky say he was forgiven. He didn’t have to strength to ask a second time.

“I didn’t need a photo to miss you.”

Yusuf’s hands were sweating. Silence fell on them again, awkward, and Yusuf couldn’t for once find the words. He just wanted to kiss Nicky and stay.

“For fuck’s sake, Joe.” Nicky took Joe’s face in his hands, “Just ask me.”

“Do you love me?” Can I stay? Am I forgiven?

Nicky was smiling. In a book, Joe realised, they would be a comma away from kissing.

“I never stopped.”

#the old guard #nicky #joe #nicolodigenovas #Lyde a vanvera #lyde #21.01.04

340 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Little Achievements by almaasi (DS9, Bashir/Garak)

Title: Little Achievements

Author: Almaasi

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Word Count: 7,792

Ship: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak

Love Letter:

I have never read anything by @almaasi anything from the Deep Space Nine fandom. This is, of course, going to be an on again off again theme as I write these love letters. It’s almost like trying out a new resturant and coming back as a regualr. I came back to this fic several times after I first read it back in October 2020.

The first half of the fic truly captures what it is to attempt to have a serious conversation with your partner without invoking airplane mode--if such a thing is to be had on a coms in space. Bashir attemps to express some of the highs and lows of an award ceremony to his partner Garak--an award ceremony Garak choose not to attend. I find myself catching second hand frustration at the constant interruption--can’t you see this couple is trying to navigate something important?!

But really, I, like Bashir, suffer from an anxiety inducing need to be ‘productive.’ This paired with an extremely demanding job and an abusive childhood....well,

“Even after years,” Julian went on. “Everything in my life taught me I’m only worth the air I breathe if I do something useful with my time and have the credentials to prove it.

So, I needed to hear these specific lines from this story:

As I’ve said... the simplest things can be their own rewards. You only need to impress yourself.”

[..]

Achieve nothing. Yet appreciate everything.”

[...]

The important things in my life are what I value and what makes me feel fulfilled. Even if they’re tiny, everyday things. Or even if they’re not measurable. They’re meaningful to me.

Ah there is so much more, but I have cut down because really, please go read the fic. @almaasi truly quantifes the need to be able to find happiness in the smallest things that make you happy. Say for example...running a small sideblog to gush over the words other people have written to remind them that what they do is meaningful.

My partner (because apprently the my parner paragraph is going to be a reoccuring theme as well) introduced me to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine MANY years ago when Netflix just started streaming. Now, I knew Star Trek: Next Generation, but I hadn’t watched any of the shows that came after at the time. They warned me that it deviated heavily from the formula of Star Trek, but that I would love it. He sold me on the concept of each character being two extremes trying to live in the same body, and @almaasi captures this beautify in this fic. Garak and Bashir both wanting to say things, but it conflicting with their very natures makes for some of the most tender moments in the fic. @almaasi showcases the understanding between partners cultivated through decades of being together. The little Kardaisan quirk of subtlety and implying clashing with some human lack of awareness is at time comedic gold in the story, but Garak is able to see straight through to Bashir’s parental and self value issues and offer him the tools to try free himself of these issues. The growth from where the show leaves these characters is balanced perfectly, so thre is never a moment where you feel like the characters are behaving out of character.

If you need one more thing to sell you on this story, even if you are outside of the fanbase,there is also a YouTube Radio Play with the actors reprising their roles. Usually, within a fanbase you get a fan made audio book or podcast, but how many can claim that the actors cosigned the fic by performing a scripted version? If that isn’t a mark of quality, I don’t know what is. I highly recommend replaying the 16:35 eyes closed, head shaking, ‘Why aren’t you here?’ a few times it’s devestating....).

#little achievements #Almaasi #DS9 #julian/garak #21.01.03

4 notes · View notes

fanfictionloveletters · 3 years

Text

Title: The Jackpot

Author: thekingslover

Fandom: Supernatural

Ship: Destiel

Word Count: 1087

Love Letter:

I have never read anything by @thekingslover, but I have to say their writing truly captures what it is to be in a longstanding relationship. This is a very sweet little one shot. It centers around a married Dean Winchester at the bar with a nameless young woman all but propositioning him. The best part here is the romance in the ordinary. There is no great wooing here, no “performance” of romance, no cresendo and climax of unresolved sexual tension--it is literally the most Thursday night, beer and food, old married couple date. Dean makes it clear that Castiel and he are married and the girl clearly doesn’t get the appeal, but isn’t that part of the “blindness” of love?

I say this as a person who must reach out and touch their partner whenever they are working on the dishes. I am overwhelmed with a desire to be closer and touch their body. Elbow deep in suds, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get overwhelmed with the sense of ‘how did I get so lucky?’

I digress. As always.

The characterization of Dean the married man is outstanding, down to the silly encouragements as Cas tries to beat a neverending mobile game. There is a light promise of another portion--as Dean and Cas have had speedy courthouse wedding. I can only hope that @thekingslover continues and am currently yelling across the house to see if my partner can come up with a snappy title the clearly hints that this is a sequel to The Jackpot. Their response was Powerball or Megamillions.....I just....this is on brand for them. I hope @thekingslover is more creative than my partner.

Learning notes: I originally found this as a reblog from another amazing writer, so I have left the reblog status in order for the author to see continous increase in their notes and notificaitons. This was going to be my first “drabble” post, and I wanted to see how it would go, but when I went back to make sure my links were in order, I saw that the author had also posted it in Ao3. With that being said, no summary because this is a repost and the author’s own summary on Ao3 is the opening. I’ve also learned I can’t set up a title on a reblog. So learning all the time.

“Come on, stud,” she says to Dean, tugging on his wrist. “I choose you tonight.”

Dean flashes her his sharpest smile, playboy facade in place. It comes back on instinct more than desire. He’s played this role before. He’s stood in these same shoes so many times they barely have any sole left.

The neon beer signs are too bright, blinding against the dim overhead lights in the bar. The beer on the counter before him is full, recently ordered, and cold in his hand. The condensation puddles along his fingers, catching in the dip around his ring.

How easy it would be to follow her daisy dukes and cowboy boots out to the parking lot. So easy to brush the hair back from her bare shoulders and kiss her neck. Easy to pretend that’s all he needs. At one point in his life, it was.

But that had been before.

She’s too young for him, in both age and spirit. That’s only the start of the list of wrong things.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean says, as gently as he can. She has a devilish look that promises a good time, and she’s generous to offer that time to Dean. It’s not her fault Dean’s already been claimed body and soul. “I hung up my spurs a long time ago.”

“Oh?” Her bottom lip pushes out, a tempting lure even to a married man. Dean gives her credit, but that’s all she’s getting.

He dips his head toward a tall table against the wall. Cas has both elbows on the tabletop, face scrunched as he taps his thumbs over a cell phone. Candy Crush has become his latest foe to vanquish, last on the list after a slew of demons, Lucifer, and God himself.

Daisy Dukes has no idea how outmatched she is. “That guy?”

Keep reading

#thekingslover #destiel #destielfanfiction #21.01.02 #thejackpot

3K notes · View notes