ohanahoku-ao3

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Merlin has Gold Eyes: Prompt/Idea

Magic turns eyes gold. Merlin is magic. Therefore his should be gold.

They start off blue, but the longer he’s in Camelot, the more his magic grows, the more in tune with the magic inside him he is, they slowly start to turn gold even when not casting spells.

It starts slowly, almost unnoticeable at first. Just little flecks of gold in his irises that could just be a trick of the light. But then there’s more and more. The blue is turning to gold and staying that way. There’s nothing he can do to stop it.

#reblogging to save as inspiration <3

[ohanahoku-ao3]

I love these questions! If anyone wants to ask, please feel free! <3

Get to know your fic writer!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Do you like constructive criticism?

Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

How do you choose which POV to write from?

Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Do you comment on stories you read?

Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Best writing advice for other writers?

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

What’s your revision or editing process like?

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Do you want to be published some day?

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

How do you write kissing scenes?

How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Would you ever write commissions?

Share a snippet from a WIP

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

What do you look for in a beta?

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

How long is your longest fic?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Why do you continue writing fics?

Thoughts on cliffhangers?

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 

Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]? 

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter? 

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Just a doodle, but I ended up liking his hand XD

#everyone should see this gorgeous art <3

[ohanahoku-ao3]

i love dropping my pen putting my glasses on my desk and rubbing my face like an exhausted divorced academic in the 1980s who is greying and sexily tousled and has been up for hours digging through the yellowed pages of old obscure treatises about etruscan pots

#absolutely love this #worded so beautifully

[ohanahoku-ao3]

hanahaki feels more like a horror trope than a romance trope i wish people would explore that more

#reblogging to remember this

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Tagged by @xviruserrorx for this, and it looks like so much fun! I'm totally down to do this! Also, @xviruserrorx I'm doing well, thank you! I hope you're doing good too! ❤

When Stiles woke in the morning, he was tucked into his bed, and the only evidence of the night before was the chafing around his wrists. - "Control" Teen Wolf

Hot tears filled Steve’s aching eyes, and he hugged Dustin back hard as he nodded, letting them spill over with a sob as the night caught up to him at last. - "The Truth Spills Out" Stranger Things

Peter looked back at him but said nothing, and in the silence that followed Stiles’ statement, sirens filled the night air. - "Grave Danger" Teen Wolf

He may not be God, but if that’s what it took to ensure peace, then he was more than ready to play the part. - "The Power of God in His Eyes" Merlin

Blood trickled down her skin in small, red rivers as she stood in the shower, her thoughts finally quiet as she grew numb from the pain. - "Stars and Butterflies" Stranger Things

“Let’s go get your magic back, yeah?” He asked, grinning when Merlin smiled and took his hand without any hesitation. - "Sharing Secrets" Merlin

There was no denying that it had been written by his hand, and as Stiles sat there, his grip grew tighter and tighter until eventually… the pencil snapped. - "Everyone Has It, but No One Can Lose It" Teen Wolf

No matter how hurt and battered the world left him, he would still be her boy, and she would love and support him until her last breath. - "Those Empty Eyes (How I'm Pained to See Them)" Merlin

After all, he was their Strength, and he’d be there to support them regardless of whether they were ready to admit they needed the help or not. - "Their Strength, Their Shelter" Merlin

He was sure of it. - "It Fills My Heart Up (And It Breaks Me at the Very Same Time)" Teen Wolf

This is so funny, because they're all so long until you get to the very last one. xD I'm honestly so curious what this list makes other people think of my writing, what sort of conclusions do you draw from it? I'd love to know!

I'm tagging @clotpolemerlin and @blazingstar29 as well as encouraging anyone else to join! This was super fun! <3

#tag game #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #ohanahokufics

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 31

I did not expect to get this done today, but here we go! Finally completed Whumptober 2023!! 🎉

General Audiences - Gen, F/M - Teen Wolf

It Fills My Heart Up (And It Breaks Me at the Very Same Time)

     Noah’s head rested on his arm, his body slumped over the table before him as he blinked slowly in the dim lighting that softened the sharp edges of the glass before him. Amber liquid rested in the tumbler, the color warm and inviting, encouraging him to take another sip, another swallow that he knew would slide down his throat and heat his chest up in the most pleasant way imaginable.

     He reached forward, lifting his head as he gulped down the remaining liquid, resting his head back on his arm as he let the gentle heat from the alcohol warm him. It was fleeting, he knew. The warmth never lasted, not like he wanted it to. He sighed softly, closing his eyes as he recalled his past. Before he met Claudia, his life had been rather cold. Growing up with an abusive father had left its mark on him, leaving a dark cloud over him that blocked out any warmth the sun may have granted him. He went about his days pretending he was fine, but when he was alone, Noah would chase the warmth he missed, drinking more and more until he became addicted to the bottle.

     It wasn’t until he met Claudia that the cloud over his head had lightened, finally letting in a few streams of sunlight that warmed him to his core. He wanted to feel more of it, and as Claudia started going out with him, the cloud over his head slowly faded away as they fell in love. She had been so understanding about his past and helped him to kick the habit. By the time Stiles was born, Noah was three years sober, and as he held his newborn son in his arms, the sunlight that had taken root in his chest seemed to grow twice as bright.

     Things were good, but then Claudia got sick. Slowly, as her health degraded, the sunlight faded away. There were days that she didn’t even know him, days that ripped away bits of her warmth little by little. When she died, she took the sun away with her, leaving Noah and their son behind in the shadow of a cloud.

     It didn’t take Noah long before he slipped back into old habits, chasing the warmth of a good whiskey, hoping it would make him feel like Claudia was back by his side, if only for a moment. Stiles hated it, and when sober, Noah did too. So he tried to resist and ignore the lure of the golden liquid. For a while, he did. But then… He gave in again. A gruesome case, a victim that looked just a little too much like his wife, and there he’d slipped again.

     “I thought I was getting better.” He murmured to the empty glass, eyes drifting to the similarly empty bottle behind it. The warmth in his body was already fading, leaving nothing but cold emptiness behind.

     At length, he leveraged himself up from the table and headed to his room, stopping to pause in the doorway of Stiles’ bedroom. His son was sleeping soundly, and Noah’s chest ached with guilt as he stared at him. Stiles was so young, so hurt from the loss of his mother, and Noah was doing nothing but making that hurt worse. Still, as he watched his son, a little flare of warmth flickered in his chest like an echo of his mother. Noah sighed softly, closing his eyes as he focused on the small ray of light. It was tiny and strained, but it was still there, and for Stiles, for Claudia’s memory, Noah would find the strength somehow to kick the habit once more. He was sure of it.

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #i thought it was getting better #emptiness #setbacks #teen wolf #fic #alcoholism tw #alcohol abuse tw #depression tw #sheriff stilinski

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 30

So close to finishing these prompts, just one left after this one! Hope you guys enjoy it, this one is one of my favorites! <3

Teen & Up - Gen - Merlin (TV)

Their Strength, Their Shelter

     Gwaine watched Arthur limp along the deer path they were following through the forest, frowning as Arthur again ignored Leon’s offer to help him. They had been attacked by bandits, and while their prince was the only one who sustained an injury, their horses had spooked, leaving them stranded and forced to walk back to the capital. They wouldn’t make it by nightfall, and Gwaine was relieved when Arthur called them all to make camp. His friend had been limping for hours on a bad leg, and while he’d let Merlin tend to it, he was refusing any offer of support for his injured leg.

     Gwaine watched as Merlin forced Arthur to sit down and fussed over his injury momentarily, looking frustrated when the prince sent him away to collect firewood. He shook his head, heading over to sit down next to Arthur. “He’s just worried. We all are.” He told him, taking a sip from his flask before offering it to Arthur.

     “There’s no need, I’m fine,” Arthur said, taking the flask and tipping it back for a swallow.

     Gwaine chuckled, shaking his head. “You nobles are all alike. Too proud to admit you’re not okay.” He took his flask back for a few long sips. “I’m sure I’ll have to say it more than once for it to penetrate that thick skull of yours, but it’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay.’ We won’t think any less of you for it.” He glanced at Arthur and sighed as he saw his friend’s face close off. He passed the flask back to him rather than comment on it. “Drink the rest. It’ll ease the pain.”

     Arthur looked like he might refuse but then relented, taking the flask and bringing it to his lips once more. “Thanks.”

     Gwaine nodded, patting Arthur’s shoulder before taking his leave and heading to the forest to help Merlin collect the firewood.

     It was late at night when Gwaine found Arthur in the training yard, yelling in rage as he destroyed a fighting dummy. He watched in the pale moonlight for a minute as Arthur utterly demolished the sturdy wood figurine, anger and grief making every movement sloppy but powerful until he stood there, chest heaving as he stared at the fallen target. Gwaine stepped forward then, calling out to his friend. “Destroying our practice dummies won’t help.”

     Arthur whirled to face him, eyes sparking with grief, but his face set in a furious sneer.

     Gwaine spoke again before Arthur could retort. “What you need is a real challenge.” He drew his sword, lifting his chin in a clear dare for Arthur to come at him.

     And Arthur did, lunging at Gwaine and holding nothing back as they parried, dodged, and exchanged blow for blow. Gwaine goaded him on, provoking Arthur at every missed strike and letting him work out his anger. He took every hit Arthur delivered, his muscles straining as he fought to keep up with Arthur’s erratic pace. He kept up until Arthur’s attacks started growing weaker, until Arthur’s tears blinded him to the point of missing every strike, until Arthur’s hands shook so hard they couldn’t hold his sword anymore, and it fell onto the grass.

     Gwaine threw his own sword aside as Arthur fell to his knees; the prince-turned-king wracked with sobs as he doubled over and screamed hoarsely into the dirt. Gwaine knelt next to him, one hand around Arthur’s lower back and the other at his shoulder as he held him close. “That’s it, Arthur. You don’t have to be okay. Not now.”

     The knight looked up and saw Merlin standing several yards away at the edge of the yard. It was nearly impossible to see Merlin’s eyes in the low light, but Gwaine couldn’t help noticing how his best friend was drowning in guilt. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sooner than he had, Merlin turned and ran, as silent as if he’d never been there.

     Ringing in his ears brought Gwaine to, and he reached up to hold his head on as he sat up. “Merlin?” He called, looking around and wincing when his voice felt like a hammer against his head. “Arthur? Anyone?” He stumbled to his feet, looking around for his compatriots. There were a couple of men face down in the dirt, wearing the sigils of the clan that had attacked them, but his friends were nowhere to be seen.

     “Gwaine.”

     A weak call of his name had Gwaine whirling around as he hurried towards the voice, the ache in his head fading slightly from adrenaline. “Arthur! Are you okay?” He called, stumbling over the uneven ground of the forest.

     A shaky breath preceded the soft answer. “No.”

     The answer chilled Gwaine to the bone as he came upon his king. “Arthur.” He breathed upon finding the young man sitting against a rotting log with blood staining his clothes. “What happened?” He asked, kneeling beside him as he lifted Arthur’s shirt to examine the wound.

     “Got… stabbed,” Arthur said, his eyes closing for a minute before they struggled to open again. “Merlin. They took Merlin.”

     “We’ll get him back,” Gwaine promised, fastening a makeshift bandage around Arthur’s torso. “But you need medical attention first. Do you think you can stand?”

     Arthur shook his head, grimacing as he admitted, “I’m not okay.”

     “That’s alright. I’ve got you.” Gwaine promised, swallowing thickly. It was the first time Arthur had admitted such a thing to him, and while the circumstances were what brought it about, it was obvious those words cost Arthur his pride. He placed a hand under Arthur’s shoulders and another under his knees. “Alright, up we go.”

     He stood with Arthur in his arms, the king gasping in pain from the minimal movement and a little more red seeping into the bandage around him. “Stop, stop,” Arthur begged, and Gwaine stilled for a moment as Arthur got used to the new position, his face growing paler by the second until he nodded silently.

     “Let’s get you home, Princess,” Gwaine said as he walked forward, grinning when Arthur still managed to glare at him for the nickname. They walked for hours, occasionally taking short breaks for Arthur to drink some of the water from Gwaine’s half-empty canteen. As they went, Arthur got paler and paler, slipping in and out of consciousness as he started to whimper in pain.

     “It hurts,” Arthur admitted at length, voice smaller than Gwaine had ever heard from the young king. “It hurts.” He repeated, and Gwaine glanced down at him just as Arthur passed out.

     The knight cursed and walked faster, frantically searching for any sign that they were getting close. A half-hour passed before Gwaine recognized a small stream, his eyes lighting up. “We’re almost there, Arthur. Not much longer.” He informed his unconscious friend as he picked up his pace.

     When they finally reached the capital, Percival met them at the gate, carrying Arthur to Gaius as Elyan went to fetch Leon. As soon as they learned that Arthur would be okay, they wasted no time saddling their horses to ride out in search of Merlin and his captors. But as they were about to mount their horses, a commotion at the gate drew their attention. There, at the entrance, stood Merlin. Gwaine’s friend was shirtless, with some sort of symbol half-drawn, half-smeared in blood across his chest. His arms were littered with bruises, and more blood smudged his face and hands. The sight was so startling that no one moved nor said a word until Merlin spoke, his voice shaking as he asked about Arthur.

     At Gwen’s stuttered assurance that the king was okay, Merlin sobbed in relief before crumpling in on himself. His knees hit the stone floor of the courtyard hard, spurring them all into action as they rushed to the servant’s side.

     Sometime later, after Merlin had been cleaned up, Gwaine stood with him by Arthur’s bedside. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, watching Merlin closely.

     “I’m fine,” Merlin said, echoing the same phrase he had said earlier, even after being forced to explain the horrible things the cult had tried to do to him.

     Gwaine sighed, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay.’” He told him, watching as Merlin’s eyes flicked to his, his blue eyes haunted and wary. Gwaine shook his head fondly, ruffling Merlin’s hair. “It’s okay, Merls. You don’t have to say it now. But I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready to say it.”

     Merlin stared at him for a moment longer before nodding once, curt and stoic, before looking back at Arthur like the king would disappear if he took his eyes off him for too long.

     Gwaine stayed with them both through the night. After all, he was their Strength, and he’d be there to support them regardless of whether they were ready to admit they needed the help or not.

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #it's okay just to say i'm not okay #bridal carry #not much longer #bbc merlin #fic #blood tw #injuries tw #feels tw #merlin #arthur #gwaine #arthur and merlin #gwaine and merlin #gwaine and arthur

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 29

Teen & Up - Gen - Merlin (TV)

Those Empty Eyes (How I'm Pained to See Them)

     Hunith knew her son well and had always been able to tell what he was thinking when she looked at him, his expressive eyes as plain to read as words written on a page. So when Merlin came home for a visit in his fifth year of living in Camelot, she immediately knew something was wrong. Merlin’s eyes, once so open and emotive and bright, were dull and distant, blank in an unsettling way she’d never seen.

     Even as he smiled and hugged her, there was no change in those eyes, no flicker of happiness or joy, even as they wrinkled slightly in the corners. But Hunith knew better than to press her son for answers right away, instead welcoming him inside to the small home they used to share, sitting him down as she chattered about their small-town gossip, regaling him with tales of what his old neighbors had been up to recently.

     Merlin was with her for two weeks, the longest time he’d come back for, and she hoped that he would perk up over the first week, but it never happened. Merlin helped her with chores, talked to their neighbors, and even told stories of his time in Camelot. But the whole time, his eyes had that dull, blank look about them. It was sad to see, but Hunith knew her son well, and these people didn’t; the villagers were completely fooled by his smile and charm, believing Merlin had it made in Camelot.

     The first time she saw even a sliver of emotion was one night when a drunken villager tried to get too familiar with her. Merlin was at her side instantly, hand gripped painfully tight around the man’s wrist as his eyes blazed with a fissure of anger cracking through the haze. “You will leave her alone.” He ordered, pushing him away with a little more force than necessary as his eyes flared gold for a brief moment.

     Then he turned back to her, the anger fading to a thin layer of concern as he checked that she was okay. When they reached her house, his eyes were back to that lusterless veneer.

     Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and sat him down, resting her hand on his forearm and squeezing gently. “Merlin, speak to me. What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing’s wrong.” Her son tried to assure her, his lips curved in a reassuring grin but overshadowed by the numb look in his gaze.

     “Don’t you lie to me, Merlin. You’ve not been yourself since you came home.” Hunith said, pleading with her son. “Please, just talk to me. You know I am here for you, no matter what manner of problem you are dealing with.”

     Merlin’s gaze trailed away from hers, drifting to the floor as he ducked his head and played with the lace of his boot where his leg rested on the bed. “I can’t.” He said after a pause of silence, his voice thick and low as though he were fighting to speak past a lump in his throat.

     “You can.” Hunith insisted, dipping her head down to try and catch his gaze, but he only turned his head away. “Merlin, I am your mother. No matter what it is that’s happened, all I want to do is help. I know destiny has been cruel to you, my love. But I cannot stand to see you like this because of it. Let me help, please, Merlin.”

     Finally, Merlin looked up at her, his eyes shining with pure grief and brimmed with tears that clung to his lashes. He opened his mouth, but no words came forth, just a sob that broke Hunith’s heart in two as she pulled her son into a safe embrace. “Merlin, my son, my sweet baby. It’s okay now, I’m here.” She soothed, holding the young man close as he shattered in her arms.

     They sat there all through the night as Merlin spilled his soul out to her, explaining in detail the things that he had seen, the hurts and sorrows he endured, the things that he had done, the good and the bad, and the entangled way the two parallels wound together until he wasn’t even sure which decision was truly good or bad. He told her about the prophecies he’d seen, the way some had come to pass, and how some had resulted from his actions. Merlin shared with her all the shame and guilt that burdened his shoulders and confided in her about his self-hatred and the bitterness he’d begun to feel towards fate and destiny. He told her about the nightmares and the terror that resided in him day by day, even when awake, the constant fear of being found out, being betrayed by Arthur and sentenced to death by flame or sword, and which he thought would be the best way to go. Every dark thought he had, every moment of resignation where he wished for death, thought to kill, or wanted to destroy everything he should have been fighting for because it was all too much and he just wanted it to be over.

     And Hunith sat there, holding him, listening to him, and watching as Merlin sank deeper and deeper into a cavernous pit of depression and anger the more that he thought, spoke, and explained. She watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, every one overshadowed by his grief and tinged with anger. She stayed mostly silent, letting him get every last worry off his chest, but was quick to answer when he finally stopped and asked:

     “What happened to me?”

     “Oh, my boy.” Hunith cupped his cheek, wiping away a few tears. “You were given such a burden by the forces of this world. You’ve been forced to carry so much on your shoulders. But you are still my son. You may think you’re a monster, but all I see when I look at you is a young man who is so brave and kind. I see my son, who has been hurt, so hurt, and yet who keeps trying to do the right thing.” She pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “My boy, I always knew you were meant for great things from the time you were little.” She said, pulling back and looking into those vulnerable, open, and hopeful eyes. “I still believe that. But I also believe you have done enough, Merlin. If you want to cast destiny to the roadside, I won’t protest. I’d love to have you stay with me, maybe settle down with a nice family?” She suggested with a smile, her heart aching for her son, wanting nothing more than his happiness, Camelot and Albion be damned!

     Merlin’s lips curled into a half smile before faltering, and he took his mother’s hand in his. “I can’t just leave Arthur unprotected.” He told her, voice and eyes heavy with guilt and regret but firm in his belief. After a moment, a little humor poked through, and he quirked a small smile at her. “The prat can’t even find his boots on his own; he’d never survive long without me.”

     Hunith sighed, watching him for a moment before smiling herself. “I knew you wouldn’t leave. No matter how much it pains you, you’ll always protect Arthur. That’s how I know you’re still my son. You’ve always been so loyal, Merlin.”

#whumptober2023 #no.29 #I only sink deeper the deeper I think #what happened to me #bbc merlin #fic #brief mention of suicidal thoughts tw #merlin #hunith #merlin and hunith

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Merlin: Bird watching goes both ways.

Arthur: That's vaguely threatening, thank you.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

writers whenever they’re starting a new fic: I have these ✨ vibes ✨ now I’ll have to build an entire plot and write an entire fic about those vibes

#absolutely irrevocably true #whys must us writers be cursed in this way?

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Hi! I’ll be posting this and a couple other Merlin inspired digital paintings today! All are WIPs - so they’re NOT finished. They’re over a year old so I thought I better share them as they are before I forget they exist - but I hope you enjoy them still! I just never got around to finishing them, and doubt I ever will. I’ll be busy with other fanart ideas, haha… ha… Oh, what is my life? (My Art Tag)

A little about this piece: "Betrayal" would be its title! The final few episodes had yet to be aired and my head was floating with ideas about how Merlin’s magic would be revealed - and how Arthur would react! I decided to depict this angsty outcome… Well, I definitely bit off more than I could chew by going for such a level of hyper-realism - and by using colour in place of my usual grayscale palette. It looks near done but there’s still much to refine. Colin’s teeth, hair, and eyelashes are what finally had me put this file on the shelf! Boo! 

#look at how amazing it is! #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin fanart

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Hi! I’ll be posting this and a couple other Merlin inspired digital paintings today! All are WIPs - so they’re NOT finished. They’re over a year old so I thought I better share them as they are before I forget they exist - but I hope you enjoy them still! I just never got around to finishing them, and doubt I ever will. I’ll be busy with other fanart ideas, haha… ha… Oh, what is my life? (My Art Tag)

A little about this piece: Dark Merlin and gold/grayscale palettes turn me on. Painting fingernails makes me cry. That is all.

#everyone needs to see this gorgeous art! #merlin #merlin bbc

[ohanahoku-ao3]

New Update!

Installation #4 of Tethered by the Shadows (My latest Teen Wolf series) is now up! Link and Sneak Peak below!

Everyone Has It, but No One Can Lose It

Stiles moved to sit in one of the small alcoves the library contained, settling in with his homework to study. There was a downside to the library, though, one that Stiles generally didn’t mind too much but was irritating him tenfold now. It was too quiet. Unlike the school library, which was always bustling with activity, this library was mostly empty, with only a few people scattered about it, which made for an almost stifling silence. It was like a battlefield after the last soldier fell, a  funeral right before the services started, or a morgue filled with the voiceless dead. Death was always silent in the end, and as Stiles sat in the quiet library, the still air of it burrowed under his skin, giving rise to paranoia. Each tiny sound that broke the silence sounded as loud as a gunshot. Every turn of a page sounded like bandages brushing against fabric, someone shifting in their chair was like the creak of an old leather jacket, and the tap-tap-tap of a pencil against a table was like the neverending repetition of Go tiles being placed on the board. It was too much, making Stiles feel like he was right back with the Nogitsune, trapped inside his own mind.

#read on ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fic #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf #post nogitsune stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles #nogitsune

[ohanahoku-ao3]

gwencelot + lyrics

“Can’t you please kindly take away the misery?”

#absolutely love this

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 28

Enjoy some hastily written Gwaine and Merlin!

Teen & Up - Gen - Merlin

Sharing Secrets

     Gwaine’s breath misted in the cool air as he laid back against the stone of the cliff face that was providing them what little shelter it could. His head ached, and every breath hurt as his lungs pressed against broken and cracked ribs, his chest dirtied and scratched from the mad dash they made running from their captors. But while Gwaine’s body was bruised to high heaven, he wasn’t concerned about himself as he glanced over at Merlin beside him. Red leaked between the fingers he held to his side, staining his skin and dripping down to soak into the tiny scrap of cloth that barely protected his dignity. Merlin’s skin was pale from the blood loss, his lips a worrying purplish color as the servant panted harshly. There wasn’t enough cloth between them to fashion a bandage, and both were too exhausted to move, their bare feet torn from the rough terrain they’d traveled over.

     The knight sighed, looking up at the sky, wondering how long the twilight would last before leaving them in the dark. “You holding up, Merlin?” Gwaine asked, his voice strained as he struggled to inhale a full breath.

     A snort came from the other man, followed by a snarky answer. “Better than you.”

     Gwaine looked back at him, their eyes meeting for a brief second before they both laughed and winced immediately laughter. Gwaine choked on his breath as his ribs burst in pain. “Okay, laughter is banned. No more laughing.” He said, grimacing harshly.

     Merlin chuckled despite the pain, nodding as he rested his head back with a sigh. “Agreed.”

     Gwaine looked back at him once he could unscrew his face from the discomfort. Merlin’s free hand was itching at the silver cuff around his other wrist, the skin around it enflamed. “You’re gonna make it worse.” He murmured, though the sight reminded him of how much his own wrists itched under his cuffs.

     Merlin just hummed, his brow furrowing as he closed his eyes, his hand closing around the cuff. He didn’t speak or pull on the cuff at all, but the look on his face was clear concentration for a few moments before the man gasped, slumping further against the wall as he grew a few worrying shades paler. Gwaine moved to grab his shoulder, his concern spiking before Merlin’s voice made him freeze. “I’m sorry, Gwaine.”

     “The bandits weren’t your fault,” Gwaine said after a pause. “You don’t have to apologize.”

     Merlin hummed softly, opening his eyes to glance at him briefly before looking down at the cuff again. “You’re a good friend, Gwaine. I should… If we make it out of this, there’s something I should tell you.”

     The knight’s eyes widened, and Gwaine looked back up at the sky for a moment. “Well, we might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now.” He said, looking back at Merlin to find his blue eyes on him, his friend’s expression unsure and hesitant. “I have a secret of my own you should know.”

     “You do?” Merlin looked startled at the revelation.

     “I do. But only if you go first.” Gwaine said, grinning when Merlin tsked and rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. The tension melted away as they shared a light laugh, a comfortable silence settling in as Merlin looked up at the sky and sighed.

     “I have magic.” He said, his voice soft. “I always have. I was born with it.” He admitted, glancing hesitantly at Gwaine.

     The knight stared back at him, a look of wonder on his face. “Merlin, I am honored that you trust me enough to tell me.” He said, smiling warmly.

     Merlin relaxed at his words, his shoulders slumping slightly before he lifted his free hand to glare at the cuff. “These prevent me from using my magic, or I would have gotten us out of there.”

     “Ah, I wondered why they used these. I thought it was a claim of some sort for their prisoners.” Gwaine said, glaring angrily at the cuffs now that he knew the truth about them.

     Merlin nodded, and for a while, the silence stretched. “What’s your secret?”

     Gwaine smiled at the question, looking back to meet Merlin’s curious gaze. “I knew.” He said simply, expanding when he got no reaction from the other man. “I knew about your magic.”

     Merlin startled, physically flinching away in shock. “You- But- How?” He asked, swallowing hard.

     “The troll. I heard him call you magic. Maybe I’m no genius, but I’m not as thick as Arthur can be either.” Gwaine said with a grin that Merlin reflected with a faint smile. “I didn’t realize until the quest was over, though. Thought he was daft, to be honest. But then things started adding up, small things. Like tree branches falling on bandits’ heads.”

     Merlin huffed, looking away briefly in embarrassment before turning back to his friend. “But then, why did you never tell me?” He asked, searching Gwaine’s face.

     “It wasn’t my place,” Gwaine said softly. “I wanted you to tell me when you were ready, not because I forced you to admit it.”

     Merlin’s eyes watered, and the warlock quickly dashed the tears away. “Thank you.” He said, voice watery but full of gratitude.

     Gwaine nodded and then painfully pulled himself to his feet. “Now, what I’m hearing is that if we want to get out of this alive, we need to get those cuffs off.” He said, extending a hand to Merlin. “Let’s go get your magic back, yeah?” He asked, grinning when Merlin smiled and took his hand without any hesitation.

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #we might not make it to the morning so go on and tell me now #bbc merlin #fic #mild blood tw #injuries tw #read on ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #merlin #gwaine

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 27

Got this one done super fast, hope you like it! Enjoy the angsty Stancy!

Mature - F/M - Stranger Things

Setting the read more link before you start reading to warn you that this story contains self-harm. Please be careful or avoid this one if that could trigger you. Stay safe! <3

Stars and Butterflies

     It happened a couple of months after they got back together, on a night when Steve snuck into Nancy’s room to hold her close when they both needed a way to hold the nightmares away. Nancy was in tears as he held her, and at length, she pulled away from him, looking at him with teary eyes when he asked what was wrong. Wordlessly, she answered, pulling her shirt off to reveal scabbed-over lines along her stomach. Her eyes were pleading for Steve not to ask questions, to understand without the pity she feared.

     And Steve did. He took in her scars with a brief look of horror followed by sympathy and stood to shed his jeans, meeting her confused gaze with a grim look as he showed her the same angry red lines over his inner thighs. Her eyes had widened at the sight as Nancy slowly stood up to stand in front of him. As their gazes met once more, they fell into each other’s arms, each holding the other together as they broke down together.

     Their scars were the same but different, brought on by separate things but for the same reason. Nancy’s scars were carved by guilt, and Steve’s engraved by shame, but they both served to help them numb the feelings, to let them escape. But they weren’t dumb. They both knew that they couldn’t keep hurting themselves like they were. So they went to each other when they felt the urge to cut, relying on each other to stop the pain, to call their thoughts back to better things when they spiraled.

     One day, as Nancy lay in tears on Steve’s bed, his hands brushing over her stomach protectively, Steve had an idea. He grabbed some Sharpies from his desk, and as Nancy glanced at him questioningly, he just smiled as he settled back on the bed. She turned her head away, her brow furrowed as Steve brought the markers to her skin. He doodled around her scars, decorating the marred skin, and when Nancy finally looked back, butterflies were fluttering around her scars. Their colors popped against her pale skin and the pink lines, nearly hiding the scars. Steve brushed a hand over the butterflies and warned her that she would mess up his hard work if she cut again, his voice hesitant and soft, wondering if he’d gone too far.

     But Nancy didn’t think so in the slightest as real butterflies rioted in her stomach, and she lurched forward to hug him, pulling him into a kiss. Her lips tasted like salt, but Steve didn’t care because he was crying, too.

     The next time, roles were reversed, as Steve had called her. She found him with sobs wracking his shoulders as he sat on his bed, new and angry lines on his thighs as he apologized through the tears for being weak. But Nancy had simply shushed him gently as she stood between his legs and hugged him close, letting his tears soak into her shirt as he hid against her stomach. She ran a hand through his hair, the other brushing along his back. Her eyes caught on the markers then, and with a smile, she bent over to kiss his head before pulling back, saying that she would make it better. He covered his face as she did, trying to compose himself, and Nancy quickly retrieved the Sharpies before kneeling in front of him.

     She gently ran a hand over the upraised scars, looking up at Steve with nothing but understanding as he finally pulled his hands away and looked down at her. Tears hung onto his lashes, and Nancy patted his leg soothingly as he wiped them away. She leaned forward to kiss over his scars gently before taking a marker and drawing a star next to the new lines. As he watched, Nancy drew more and more stars until his legs looked like the night sky. She finished with the same warning he had told her, and Steve couldn’t hold back the tears as they sprung forth again, the boy dropping to his knees off the bed as he wrapped her in a tight hug.

     Back and forth, they went like this. Nancy’s stomach gained new butterflies whenever the old ones faded, sometimes interspersed among grass and flowers as Steve grinned and told her the butterflies would be happiest in a meadow. Steve’s thighs gained more stars as the old ones eventually got washed away, and soon, Nancy was drawing planets, moons, and suns, creating constellations and galaxies along his skin.

     Things improved at length, and their scars faded alongside the old drawings. But dependence doesn’t equal love, and soon, the young lovers drifted apart.

     When Vecna’s curse fell over their town, Nancy saw Steve shirtless for the first time since he’d graduated, and she gasped at the new scars along his stomach. She tried to say something, but Steve was in the water before she could, leaving her behind with a confused Eddie and a tight-lipped Robin.

     She didn’t have time to think about it, though, too busy following Steve through the gate and trying to fight off the bats they found on the other side. Then they were sheltered under the rock, and Steve was bleeding, new wounds bleeding over the scars she’d seen, and Nancy didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure if she should say anything. So she patched him up, feeling like it was just the day before that she’d been disinfecting his newest cuts.

     At length, Vecna was defeated. They reunited with the group from Cali, but as Nancy pulled away from her hug with Jonathan, she couldn’t help but glance back at Steve across the driveway.

     That night, as Nancy’s thoughts spiraled, she couldn’t help but wish Steve was in the next room instead of Jonathan. But he wasn’t, and she had no right to call him for this. Not anymore. Her thoughts swirled, and her mind clamored, loud and shrill, and then it all faded away. Blood trickled down her skin in small, red rivers as she stood in the shower, her thoughts finally quiet as she grew numb from the pain.

#whumptober2023 #no.27 #scars #you drew stars around my scars but now im bleeding #stranger things #fic #SELF-HARM TW #mild blood tw #read on ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things nancy #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stancy