Disclaimer Dean Ambrose is the property of the WWE and/or the actor / sports entertainer / superstar that portrays him. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

Original characters are the children of my own imagination, and therefore my property. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The Morning After

It was 6:00 am. when Dean opened his eyes and sat up, yawning. Cinnamon was sprawled on her side of the bed, lying on her stomach, one arm dangling off the bed, her copper hair a tangled mess around her head. Her other arm was resting on her pillow beside her head and he could see the ring he'd given her last night safely on her left ring finger, the ring her father had given to her mother, the ring she had pawned to get him medical help, the ring he had finally gotten back after over ten years and used to propose to her.

I'm getting married, he thought to himself. There was a time in his life, and not that long ago, where such thoughts would have made him slightly queasy, but that was before Cinnamon and he had found each other again. Now he just found the idea had a certainty and rightness to it. They weren't sure exactly when they'd get married, he was almost done with his leave from the WWE and when he went back, his schedule would be its normal, brutal self, but they'd find a way. Dean would have been willing to fly to Las Vegas and just do it, but he wasn't sure how Cinnamon would feel about that. She had said last night that she wasn't ready to even think about the wedding until Neil, their son knew and was comfortable with the idea.

Peeking out the window, Dean could see it was a gray morning. It was early enough that it might get sunny, but right now, everything just looked gray and cold. He debated if he should go running, but decided against it. He'd be going to the WVW event this afternoon with Cinnamon, but that wouldn't be until 3:00, and he was hoping to hit the local gym before for a few hours, he could afford to skip the run this morning.

He slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt trying extra hard to be quiet so as not to wake Cinnamon. She had to work that afternoon at WVW, plus she had to work that night, which wouldn't give her too much time to sleep until tomorrow morning, so he wanted her to get whatever sleep she could now.

When he left the room, he shut the door behind him, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. When he got there, he found Neil getting a container orange juice out of the refrigerator. "Morning, Dad."

"Morning, Neil." Dean walked over to the coffee maker and started filling it. "Did you sleep well?"

Neil nodded as he got a glass out of cupboard and poured himself a glass of orange juice then returned the carton to the refrigerator. "Is mom still sleeping?"

"Yep," Dean said, nodding. "And I want to let her sleep in, if it's okay with you. We all got to bed late last night, but your Mom has to work this afternoon and tonight."

Neil nodded, sitting down at the table with his juice. "Cold cereal for breakfast, then?"

Dean shook his head. "Not unless you want to. I can make us some eggs if you want. Or, would you rather have oatmeal?" Neil loved oatmeal, something Dean found amusing, because he had hated oatmeal. And even stranger to Dean, Neil loved the true old fashioned, often gluey oatmeal the best. That was one taste preference he got from his mother, obviously.

"Eggs sounds okay," Neil said, sipping his juice.

"You don't trust my oatmeal making abilities?" Dean teased.

"Dad, I know your oatmeal making abilities," Neil said seriously. "I'd rather have eggs."

Dean tried not to laugh. He had tried to make oatmeal "like Mom makes" for Neil twice. Both times the results were less than edible, at least that's what Neil claimed. Dean couldn't tell you if it was good or not, since he refused to eat the stuff. "All right, I get the point. Scrambled?"

Neil nodded. "Can we put stuff in them like cheese and veggies and some meat, maybe?"

Dean nodded. "If you can help me with that."

A few minutes later, the two of them were working on breakfast. Neil was cracking eggs into a bowl and grating cheese into them, while Dean was cutting up onions and tomatoes. "There's a chicken breast in the refrigerator from dinner the other night," Dean said, "Should we slice that up and add it?"

"Is it fried chicken?" Neil asked, grinning. "If it is, we'd better leave it for Mom."

Dean grinned too, appreciating the reference to one of Cinnamon's food weaknesses, fried chicken, particularly Kentucky Fried Chicken. "No, it's from the other night when your mom made baked chicken."

"Then yeah, why not?"

Dean took out the chicken breast and put it on the counter.

When everything was mixed together, Dean got out the cast iron skillet and put it on the stove with a lump of butter. As it heated up, he took out a loaf of bread and gave it to Neil. "Can you be the toast maker?"

"I think I can handle that."

It wasn't long before the two of them were sitting down to eggs and toast, with coffee for Dean and more orange juice and a cup of hot chocolate, made with hot milk instead of water. "This looks good, Dad," Neil said, nodding his approval.

"Well, you helped," Dean said. He took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes. Cinnamon did love good coffee, and Dean found he was really starting to appreciate the local coffee shop house blend that she bought for use at home. Compared to brands like Maxwell house or Folgers, it was expensive, but it was one of the things Cinnamon just didn't compromise on and Dean started feeling he wouldn't anymore, either. "Neil," he said, after enjoying that first, perfect sip. "Can we talk?"

"Aren't we already?" Neil asked, sipping his hot chocolate.

"I mean about something serious," Dean said, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. Sometimes Neil didn't mind having his hair ruffled, but sometimes he felt he was too old for that kind of thing. Dean didn't want to make Neil feel that Dean was seeing him as a little kid.

"Okay," Neil said, putting his cup down and picking up his fork. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

Dean shook his head. "Not at all. I just want to talk to you about...well, you, me, your mother, things like that."

"Is Mom okay?"

"Your mom is fine," Dean assured him.

"Everything is okay with you and me, right?" Neil asked.

"I think so," Dean said, taking a bite of the eggs. "Do you feel we're doing okay?

Neil nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to miss you when you go back to work."

Dean felt a little stab inside him, but brushed it away. "That's not for awhile yet." That wasn't quite true, the middle of January was creeping up with alarming speed, but Dean also remembered how much longer a week, then a month seemed when you were a child. "Uhm... what if I told you I wanted to live here?" he asked, deciding to test the waters.

Neil looked at him, forkful of eggs half way to his mouth and paused. "You do live here," he pointed out.

"Well, technically, I'm staying here," he said. "That's not quite the same."

"No." Neil shook his head. "You live here."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you fart," Neil said.

The tone of Neil's voice so matter-of-fact that Dean wanted to laugh. "Your mother prefers you call it 'breaking wind,'" he reminded him.

"Mom might break wind, at least most of the time. But Dad, seriously? You fart." Neil took another bite of the eggs.

"Everyone farts," Dean reminded him. "I don't see how this means I'm living here and not staying here."

"Guests don't fart, or if they do, they get all embarrassed," Neil said. "Unless it's outside when we're having a cookout and there are a lot of other guys. But you don't care. If we're watching TV, you don't rush to the bathroom, you just fart."

"I do not!" Dean said, feeling a little annoyed that his son was implying he was a chronic, smelly, wind bag.

"You do too," Neil said. "Especially if Mom isn't there."

He had a point there, Dean had to give him that. When it was the two of them, they didn't stand much on Cinnamon's rules of politeness and not only farted freely, but laughed about it, joked about it, and pointed fingers at each other, pretending to shoot each other while farting. Cinnamon had caught them playing this game once, after having served home made five alarm chili for dinner and had just shaken her head and decided she had things to do in the bedroom. Later, when she asked Dean about it, he had shrugged. "It's a guy thing."

"Yeah, we women don't run around farting and encouraging each other to smell it, because it's nasty," she said. "So, what makes you guys think it's all fun and games?"

"To be honest? I think it hearkens from the days where men were hunters and women were gatherers," he said. "The men used to sniff animal poop to see how old it was, how far away the herd might be, probably even to check and see what the herd was eating. And they probably encouraged all the other male members of the tribe to sniff too. So, it became a guy thing. 'Smell this, Caveman Ogg, whew, that's ripe, isn't it?' Meanwhile, the women were gathering plants and pleasant smells indicated it might be edible or useful, so they would pass flowers around instead. 'Hey Cave woman Sheena, does this smell nice?' 'Why, yes it does, Cave woman Lilla, let's bring some home so the cave will smell like flowers instead of our filthy men who fart in it all the time.' It's been a battle ever since. Women buy potpourri and scented candles, while men eat spicy foods and fart."

Cinnamon had laughed, but it had been a guilty laugh and she still didn't understand why her normally polite son had no problem playing games with his father that seemed to involve seeing who would would have to run for the Febreze first. It wasn't that Cinnamon was unusually uptight, she hung out with wrestlers, she certainly wasn't a delicate flower who wilted at any form of body humor, but she at least tried to raise Neil to know there was a time and a place for everything and if you were unsure, be polite. Sometimes Dean wondered if Cinnamon felt he was following behind her, wreaking havoc in his wake, attempting to undo every attempt Cinnamon made to raise their son to be a civilized human being.

"Okay, yeah, I admit when it's just you and me, I fart. But you do too," he said, defending himself.

"Yeah," Neil said, "But I know I live here. You're the one asking if I mind and I'm saying you already live here. If you can fart in the living room without even looking slightly embarrassed, then this is home. I mean, even Cory looks embarrassed when he farts in the house. Even if it's just he and I in the bedroom."

Dean nodded. "Okay, that makes sense." He ate another forkful of eggs, pleased at how good they tasted. If he could learn to cook oatmeal to Neil's satisfaction, he'd be able to claim he was an accomplished breakfast cook, at least for his family. "But, it isn't official yet. Your Mom and I want to make it official."

Neil nodded. "You might as well, since you do live here."

"What about when I go back to work?" Dean asked.

"Then you'll be here less," Neil said, "But you'll still live here. This will be your home." He started for another bite of eggs, then paused and looked worried. "You will come here when you don't have to work, right? Like if you get hurt, which I don't want you to, but if you do, you'll come here, right? Not go somewhere else?"

"Yeah," Dean said, amazed at how touched he was by the worry in Neil's voice. He didn't want his son to worry, but it was nice knowing that Neil loved him enough to want him to come and be with him and his mother whenever he could. "I mean, if I do get hurt I might end up in the hospital for awhile, but if I have to recover, I'll come here. And that little bit of time I get off, those couple of days every month? I'll come here then, too."

"I wish you didn't have to be away so much," Neil said. "I wish you only had to do Raw and Smackdown and Main Event and then you could home. I wish you didn't have to do house shows and interviews and all that stuff all the time."

"I know," Dean said, wishing the same thing himself. It wasn't that he really minded doing house shows and promotional work, but now that he had a family, he wished the job wasn't quite so demanding. "So," he said, changing the subject. "We've concluded that I live here because I fart."

"Yup."

Dean took a deep breath deciding to take the plunge. "How would you feel if your Mom and I got married?"

A triangle of toast that was half way to Neil's mouth, suddenly stopped and hung from his hand. "What?"

"How would you feel if your Mom and I got married?" Dean repeated, a little worried. Maybe I should have waited for Cinnamon to be here, too, he thought.

"Are you going to ask her," Neil said, putting down the piece of toast, "Or have you asked her?"

Dean decided that this was the moment for honesty, even though he wasn't sure how Neil was going to take this. "I have asked her," he said. "She said yes."

Neil's brow furrowed, which was a sign that he was thinking, unhappy, or both. "Did you buy her a ring?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Actually, I went and got a ring that was her mothers, that she sold many years ago." While he wanted to be honest, he hoped Neil wouldn't get side tracked about the ring. He knew that there would come a day when Neil was told the complete story of the ring, but this didn't seem like the time.

"That's good," Neil said. "Mom appreciates stuff like that."

Dean almost smiled at Neil's wisdom. "Yeah, your mom has a sentimental streak in her."

"Also, she's not a big jewelry person," Neil pointed out. "So, getting her to wear a ring she used to wear will probably be easier than getting her a new ring she's not used to."

Now Dean had to try not to laugh, or at least chuckle, which he managed to do. "Well, she was pretty happy to get this ring back."

Neil nodded. "And was she happy you asked her to marry you."

"I think so, she did accept," Dean said, then added, "And I don't think she did it just because she felt sorry for me." He didn't know why he said that last part, except that there was something about Neil that told him he needed to say something that made sense and was off the wall at the same time.

Neil giggled, telling Dean the joke had hit the target. Of course Neil knew his mother wasn't going to marry someone out of pity. But after a few giggles, Neil's face grew solemn. "When are you going to get married?"

"We're not sure yet," Dean admitted. "Your mom wants to make sure you're cool with all of this before we make any wedding plans and I agree with her. I have an idea of what I'd like to do, but I don't know if I should share it with you, just in case it can't happen that way."

"I think you should share it with me," Neil said, and he looked so mature that for a moment, Dean almost felt like he was talking with a short adult instead of a boy on the verge of ten years old. "Until you came along, I was the man of the family."

"Yes, you were," Dean said, nodding. "So, okay, you just have to promise that if you think it's a great idea, you won't get upset if it doesn't happen. Weddings are very important to women."

"Isn't the wedding important to you, too?" Neil asked.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not looking forward to getting married, I'm looking forward to being married."

"That makes sense," Neil took a bite of his toast and chewed thoughtfully. "Okay, what's the idea?

"Well, the WWE isn't going to give me any time off, not after this leave of absences. But, your mother takes summers off for you, right?"

Neil nodded, still looking thoughtful.

"Well, I was thinking that I could probably get a couple days off, or at least a day. Your Mom and I could get married and then you and her can come on the road with me for the summer. It won't be a dream honeymoon, because I'll have to work, but at least the three of us will get some time together." Dean smiled. "What do you think of that?"

"Are you sure you want me on your honeymoon?" Neil asked, studying him.

"Yeah, I do," Dean said. "I am going to miss you so much when I'm back on the road, I'm not going to pass up close to three months with you. And you'll get to go to most, if not all, of the wrestling events. Does that sound fun?"

Neil nodded. "It sounds like a good idea, if Mom agrees." He put the crust of the triangle of toast back on his plate. "But, Dad, we've got to get a few things straight, okay?"

Dean didn't know if he should laugh or be worried at Neil's words. On the one hand, they seemed ridiculously serious, but on the other hand, Neil was not a baby, and if Neil had concerns, Dean needed to listen. "Okay," he said. "What do we need to get straight?"

"Will I be your kid?"

"You are my kid," Dean said, confused.

Neil shook his head. "Mom'll take your last name, right? So she'll be Cinnamon Ambrose. Will I be Neil Ambrose? Or Neil Nolan?"

Dean said nothing for a moment, realizing this had not occurred to him. He had just assumed that the kid was part of the deal and if Cinnamon took his last name, it would automatically go to Neil. Now he wasn't sure. "Neil, I would love it if you took my last name," he said. "I don't know what we have to do legally to make this so, but anything that has to be done, will be done. Is that okay?"

Neil nodded. "And you can't hyphenate it either," he said. "'Cause that's stupid. I'm not going to be Neil Nolan-Ambrose or Neil Abrose-Nolan. Or even worse, I won't be called some cute-but-dumb name mash up, like Neil Nolbrose or Neil Amban."

"Of course not," Dean said, and he didn't have to pretend he was horrified. None of those suggestions sounded good to him, either.

"Good, because if we're going to do this, I want to do it right." He looked at Dean, his expression serious. "I hope Mom takes your name. I think she will."

"I think so too," Dean said. "So, is that it?"

Neil shook his head. "Are you going to treat my Mom right?"

Dean reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. "I'm going to try. I've never been married before, so I hope I can do this right."

"Mom hasn't been married before either," Neil said. "So, I guess the two of you will have to learn how to be married together. Just like you and I have learned how to be father and son."

"True, that," Dean agreed.

"But, Mom is pretty special. I think you know that, but I want to make sure." Neil put his fork on his plate, even though he still had eggs and toast left. It was clear what was coming next was probably the most serious matter of all to him. "She saves lives when she works and she works at WVW. She volunteers at my school as much as she can, too and she finds the time to bake cookies because she knows I like them better than the store bought ones."

"I know," Dean said. "I love your mother's cookies."

"It's not just the cookies," Neil said, the furrow in his brow deepening as he tried to come up with the words he needed. "The cookies are one of the things that make her great. Just one. She does a lot of other great stuff too. I know she's my mother and I love her, but from where I sit, you're lucky she loves you."

"I agree," Dean said, doing his best not to smile. It was clear this was very important to Neil.

"I know you're a big time wrestler and girls are probably knocking down your door to be with you," Neil continued, "But you still owe it to my mom to be 100% sure you love her and always will love her, even if you have to be on the road and can't be with her all the time. You can't find other ladies just 'cause you're lonely and Mom isn't there."

Dean's eyes widened, but he just nodded, realizing his son was telling him, in a round about way, that Dean wasn't allowed to cheat. He knew Neil knew the basics of sex, but he was still at the stage in the game where he thought sex was something only done out of necessity to have children. His best friend Cory, seemed a little more informed in these things and Neil had told Dean that Cory was sure Dean and Cinnamon were having sex. Dean hadn't denied this, but he hadn't gone to great lengths to convince Neil of the truth of the matter and honestly, Neil hadn't seemed to care that much. But now, Dean wondered if Neil was starting to suspect his folks not only had sex, but liked it too. "I do have friends who are female," he admitted, knowing that there would be times when he might be seen by the public in their company. "Just like your mother is friends with so many of the wrestlers from the WVW. But, the only woman that I will ever... uhm...do man/woman things with, is your mother."

Neil nodded. "Good. That's why Cory's dad and mom aren't married anymore. Because Cory's dad liked to be with other women more than he liked being with Cory's mom. I don't want that to happen with my mom."

Again, Dean nodded. He had dealt with Cory a few times, Cory's mom even less, and they weren't his favorite people in the world. However, he realized he had a newly found sympathy for what they had gone through. Obviously, it had affected both of them pretty hard if Neil knew about it. "Your mom and I have talked about this all ready," he said. "And I told her that the only woman I want to be with, in a man/woman way is her. I meant that."

"Good," Neil nodded and picked up his fork, then put it down again. "It won't be easy."

"What won't?"

"You will be on the road a lot. I have to go to school and stuff. Mom has to work, so we can't always be with you. So, the both of you are going to have to try extra hard. I'll talk to Mom about it, too, but since you're here now, what will you do to make sure the two of you are happy even though you're apart?" His head tipped to one side as Neil studied his Dad.

Call her every night and ask, 'what are you wearing?' Dean thought, but wisely did not say. "Well, I know how to Skype now. I have a cell phone. I plan on keeping in touch with you, I'll keep in touch with your Mom too." Now Dean did reach out and ruffle Neil's hair, maybe to reassure himself that Neil was still a kid. "I know it won't be easy, but your mom and I love each other and we love you, so we'll find a way to make it work."

Neil nodded. "Good, 'cause if you don't, I won't be very happy. And I'll feel very torn, because I love you, but-" he paused and thought carefully before answering, "I've had Mom all my life."

"I understand that," Dean said, and he did understand. Cinnamon had been the constant in his life, the mother who did everything she could to be there for her son. "Look, Neil, it won't be perfect. There's no such thing as a perfect relationship. And you're right, we have some strikes against each other because I do have such a demanding job. But we both want this to work and so we'll work hard."

"Okay," Neil said. "I have one last question, then."

This'll be the big one, Dean thought, even though he had no clue what it is Neil would ask. "Go ahead and ask me."

Neil drew in a deep breath. "What if you had to pick?"

"Pick?"

"Between us and wrestling," Neil explained. "I'm not saying you will, Mom wouldn't make you make that choice, but let's say God came down right now and said, 'if you marry Cinnamon, you can no longer wrestle.' What would you do? Who would you pick?"

"You and your mother," Dean said without hesitation, because he was telling the truth. He loved wrestling, he always had, even at the time when he didn't love it on the surface, he had loved it deep down. Wrestling had always been there for him. And if he was forced to give it up, he wouldn't be happy. But he also knew that some day wrestling would leave him, as the most seductive mistress always did in the end. It was not a sport for old men. He hoped he'd be able to work in the business for a long time, hoped he'd be able to train when he was too old to compete every night. He hoped he'd find some other way to stay in the business when his body gave out and said "no more." Cinnamon and Neil? They would always be there for him. Yeah, you could say, "That's not true, marriage ends in divorce a lot," but Dean knew in his gut that he and Cinnamon would do what they could to keep their marriage alive and healthy. If he hadn't believed that, he never would have proposed to her. If Cinnamon didn't believe he would do the same, she never would have accepted.

Neil nodded with all the dignity of a wise old village elder. "You can marry my mom, then," he said. "I approve."

Dean's first reaction was to ruffle his hair and half sarcastically say, "Well, I'm relieved to hear that," but he stopped himself. This wasn't a joke. Neil was serious. Dean had been tested by his son, and if Dean had been found lacking, Neil would have done everything he could to stop the two of them from getting married. Not because he was a bratty kid who wanted his own way, but because he was smart enough to know that while love was better than friendship, friendship was better than broken hearts. So, Dean nodded back. "Thank you," he said, hoping he sounded just as dignified as his son, hoping he sounded like the young warrior who had asked the wise village elder for advice. "That means a lot to me."

"And if you do screw up?" Neil continued, the beginnings of a grin spreading on his young face. "I recommend KFC. Mom will forgive almost anything if you bring her KFC."

On this, Dean laughed and Neil joined in. And even though it wasn't that funny, giggles turned into that laughter that fed on itself, so every time one of them stopped, they would look at the other and start laughing again. Twenty minutes later, that's how Cinnamon found the two of them, sitting at the breakfast table, tears streaming down their face, the two of them were laughing so hard. And even though she had no idea what was so funny, and nor did she care, she smiled. Because when the day started by hearing the two people you loved most in the world, laughing, you just knew it was going to be a great day.

The End.

Special Thanks To:

Just A Reader: I'm glad you liked "Blinded by the Lights." I just figured Dean wouldn't take Pete Spencer's attitudes lying down. He's a jerk and Dean was going to show him a thing or two. Because in the world of Christmas lights, you do NOT describe someone's display as "small" and "tasteful."

Pipe Bomb Dreams: There is no rule that says I'm not allowed to have two stories on the front page, especially when I only have two stories if you filter out other results. (In your case, you filtered out every story that wasn't complete. Hardly fair) There are people on this site who make sure their stories always stay on the front page, by writing three paragraphs and calling it a chapter, every time their story falls off the front page, so why don't you go and take them to task about it? And Jack and the Beanstalk is in the public domain and the whole point of the story was that Dean was changing it to indulge Neil.

I don't like to sound like a bitchy writer, but why do you read my stuff if it upsets you so? I mean, I don't mind, tear my stuff to the ground, I've always said I can take criticism, and I can. But I've also said what I post I will defend, and I have to say it looks like you go out of your way to be upset with my writing. I don't know who else you've reviewed on this site, but I hope you aren't as nasty to them as you have been to me. You want to point out mistakes? Fine, if I agree they are mistakes, I'll fix them, but you talk about stuff that just isn't true, (like Cinnamon having sex with her dog, WTF?) or stuff that is at worst a mere minor annoyance (if you filter stories to just show completed ones, I have two stories on the front page so I should delete one? Again, WTF?) What is your point with this? I mean, we find your reviews hysterically weird and thus funny, but I would love to know what the point of this is.

Author's Notes: Hey there, remember me? Yes, I know, it's been awhile since I posted anything, but I am in the first third of a pretty big project. I'll leave it at that, because the more I talk about it, the more likely I am to not write it, but that's what I've been doing.

However, I did want to write a story showing Dean talking to Neil about this, and here it is. I hope you like it, and I hope you like it enough to take the time to review it, because it means a lot to me.

Reviewing is important enough to me that I've decided that in my author's notes I'm going to start addressing the many reason why people don't review (because lurkers have a million excuses, that they'll go into loving detail to explain if they are asked why they look at Fanfiction as a free buffet where they take willingly but never want to give) I know I can't force you to read this and I'm sure most lurkers won't, but I get a little tired of the attitudes that begging for reviews is wrong. If these little "counter arguments" can convince one person who was lurking to step forward and review (or, if on AO3, at least press the damned Kudos button) then I've done good. If I can convince that same person to review someone elses work that they've been reading and enjoying as well, then I'll consider this a major success.

Okay the argument for this time is:

You shouldn't write for feedback; if you're really a writer, you don't need feedback. Interesting, argument, because it implies that a writer who asks for feedback is inferior to a writer who doesn't, and one long look about this site will tell you that is just not true. I have found writers that write wonderful stories and will beg for feedback and I've found writers who wrote crap but never asked for a review. Also, if you never hear anything about your writing, how will you ever improve? If I knit sweaters and shove them in a drawer, they might be the best sweaters in the world or they might be crap, but I'll never know, because no one can tell me. Chances are, they're just okay sweaters, but that's all they ever will be, unless I bring them out for people to see.

I do write for me. All writers do. Even a writer who only writes request stories, is writing for themselves first and foremost. Posting is another matter. I write for me, I post for feedback. If feedback didn't matter so much to me, I would keep these stories on my hard drive. I only share them, because I hope that others will read them and then share with me that they liked them or if they didn't like them, tell me why.

It would be different if posting was an automatic thing we writers had no control over, but it's not. I don't have to post anything. I can write anything I want and not share it with a soul (and I have a hard drive full of crap to testify to this too) I post for feedback. Not just to hear praise, but to hear what I can do to improve. I can't say I will always agree with anyone being critical, but I will listen and I will remember. And maybe I won't feel I should fix the story you're writing me about, but it will be in my mind for the next story I write.

So, if this has been your argument for not leaving a review? Not just on my stuff, but on other people's fanfiction too? Reconsider. Your feedback is important. We writers do care and that's a good thing, caring means we want to work at our craft. Caring what others think means we hope to improve.

Okay, until next time, take care.

Willow