i write stuff

AKA BluSakura! I go by Trish/Trix/Trixy/Blu.

I write, ship, and play Dungeons and Dragons!

/listens to 1000 Years by Christina Perri while writing Zelink fic

/cries a million tears over keyboard

[ ❀ ] meet the blogger:

name: Trisha / Trish 
height: 5’0” … with shoes on.
eye color: black as the pits of my soul.  or dark brown.
birthday: December 18 :)
favorite color: yellow or light blue!
best school subject(s): English, Health Sciences (Anatomy, Physiology, Microbiology)
current shirt color: pink
day or night: Day!
Sexual Orientation: Heteroflexible!
single or taken: Taken :3
celebrity crush: James McAvoy
coffee or tea: tea~

(Source: choke-on-glitter, via heroineofwisdom)

JoJoPanda

It’s been awhile!!  :D Join us for our D&D Session!  Shadow of Nerull commences!

I AM HOME!!

Vegas was amazing.  I drank, I gambled, I lost it all, but at least I came home with a trunk-full of stuffed animals, new clothes for my brother, and all smiles with the family.

Now, all I wanna do is veg out and write.  <3

AND I CAME HOME TO A COUPLE NEW FOLLOWERS.  <3 Thank you so much for checking out my blog!  I’ll get back to the fanfic-writing soon.  :)  I loved Vegas, but there really is no place like home.

How is everyone?

So my hiatus begins now!  <3

I love you all!  Leave me any requests or updates!  :D If you wrote fic, if you’d like fic, leave me an ask.

I’ll be back Sunday night! 

Oh my god, I’m dying of cute. In the best of ways. Thanks so much! This un-breaks my heart after the last one. lol I can’t get over how adorable it is. ALSO IT SOUNDS KINDA LIKE SIMS 3. LMAO. HAVE YOU PLAYED IT OR SOMETHING.

AHAHA UM I HAVE SPENT MANY HOURS ON SIMS 3 SO.  Y-YEAH 8D;

lyriette replied to your post:For lyriette
I WAS WAITING FOR MY HEART TO BE BROKEN AND YOU FUCKING DELIVERED <3

<3 <3 ;A; I HOPE THE HEARTBREAK WAS TO YOUR SATISFACTION

For amissapanda

Request: fakiru, fakir the warlock and ahiru the fairy

-

"You’re back!"

Fakir cleared his throat, toying with the wand in his hand.  The forest belonged to the fairies, but he was determined to seek out that last ingredient for his latest alchemic creation.

His return had nothing to do with the yellow-winged fairy with wide blue eyes and a smile full of sunshine, he swore.

She buzzed over to him, the tiny sprite shifting to full form in a flash of light.  Even when she grew in size, she was still so much smaller than he was, barely reaching his shoulder in height.  Her wings fluttered behind her.  ”Ahh, I’m sorry I spilled your potion thing on you last time.  I’m glad you came back, though!”

With a giggle, she reached for the warlock’s free hand.  He fought back a blush.  ”Because of my little prank going overboard, you get one wish!  I will grant you just one!  And … try to make it simple, okay?  I don’t really have full control of myself yet but I am working on it so I’ll definitely do my best and I certainly owe you for all the trouble I caused you—!”

Alright, maybe his visitation had everything to do with this idiotic fairy.  He rolled his eyes and shook his head.  ”Stop that.  If you can’t control yourself, then don’t bother.  I don’t need anything and if you screwed up, it would end up being more of a hassle.”  I don’t need a wish.  I just wanted to see you.

But she pouted, her wings drooping.  ”But-but-but-but this is important!  Please?  I’ll help you find any ingredients you want!  Or I’ll clean your house!  Or we can exchange magic tricks!  Please, I insist!”

He sighed, exasperated.  ”If I ask for one wish, will you just drop it and we’ll call it even from there?”

"I swear on fairies’ honor!"

Fakir pocketed his wand and turned away, letting his dark hair fall over his eyes.  ”… Spend the day with me.  In town.”

She tilted her head.  ”Huh.  That’s really all?  That’s not hard!  I don’t even have to use my abilities for that!”  She reached forward, curling her arm around his own.  ”Well, what’re we waiting for?”  Her wings gave a sudden beat into the air, hoisting her up and off the ground.

Fakir stumbled and yanked his arm back and away from her, exasperated, but secretly amused with her enthusiasm.  Maybe she didn’t quite understand what he meant.  Maybe she didn’t even know what a date was.  But … well, he’d explain what he’d been feeling these past few days over dinner, and hopefully she could understand that much.

Ahiru patiently waited for him, still floating off the ground expectantly.  Then he smirked—a look that somehow sent heat flocking to her cheeks, a blush spreading across her nose.  ”Fine, we’ll do it your way.  Next time, though, keep your feet on the ground.”  He summoned his broom and mounted it, flying on after the blushing, suddenly giddy, fairy.

For lyriette

Request: fakiru, their last kiss

-

Somehow, Fakir had been prepared for this.

Her breaths were slow as she rested on his lap, her eyes weary.  His hand caressed the white feathers with all the comfort he could give her (calloused, scarred, and ink-stained, but tender nonetheless).

She whimpered softly and quacklike.  He couldn’t hold her close; it would cause her too much pain.  He settled for running his thumb gently over her head, her little white cowlick still lively and stubborn even when she wasn’t.

The duck turned her head up to him, and her blue eyes shimmered with tears.  She nuzzled her bill into his abdomen.

His quill scratched along the blank page on the desk next to them.

The duck who saved everyone shed tears that evening.  Not out of fear, or of sadness for her short life—

He paused for a moment to smile weakly down at the sweet, sweet look she gave him.

—but because she knew that she could not stay by the writer’s side, as he had promise her many years ago.

He understood.  So he swore he would not shed tears.  Not yet.  He had to be strong for her.  Unbidden, the words continued, her feelings flowing through him in a rush of emotion and warmth.

She had one wish for herself.  One last selfish wish.

Fakir blinked back the burning sensation in his eyes.

The duck could not move.  She was too old and too tired.  But she poured her feelings into the writer’s hand and into his heart.  Her feelings spoke of a pose she could not perform.  Of words she could not say.

He didn’t have to go on.  He dropped his quill and tenderly cradled her into his arms, his hands shaking as he brought his lips to the top of her tiny head.

He buried her the next morning beside the lake, beneath a large oak tree.  And he sat on a chair beside the tiny grave, and continued to write.