#honestly this writer's work is what I aspire to one day achieve

[if-confessions]

Hey :) aspiring author here… or hopefully some day. So i posted a demoless intro before i really started writing and the reception has been really nonexistent. I don’t get any asks and i’m sadly a person that needs at least a little validation for motivation. But i have been writing even though there’s not much encouragement but it’s been a slog to get through. I just wanted to ask, do you think once my demo is out i’ll be able to get more people interested or excited? Kind of like a catapult? I’ve been really annoyed at myself for posting this intro cause maybe more people would have been interested if i structured it differently. I hope this doesn’t sound conceited or anything but it’s really affecting me seeing all these other demoless intros blow up with 1000< likes and constant interaction and asks. I’m getting sad just thinking about it right now… I know i can’t force anyone to like my stuff and maybe my story is just bad i don’t know… It just feels like everyone is starting their wip at a massive advantage with an audience that’s already there and excited and i’m right at the bottom looking up. Was this how it used to be a few years ago? Did everyone start at the bottom? I’m trying to tell myself once people see my world they’ll fall in love with it just like me but seeing new intros come out left right and centre, all achieving things within days that i’ve been trying to do for many months makes me want to cry.

Hey Anon,

I don't want to give you any false hope or promise you that when you do publish your demo your blog will be catapulted into stardom. It could, but it also might not... Honestly, I really don't know what combo of action makes a popular project (see demo/no demo debate). Maybe your intro post is the issue, maybe it is not. Maybe your story is bad, or maybe it's just fine and the people who would click with it just hasn't seen it yet. I tried listing things that could affect a project becoming popular (and it's not even an exhaustive list), but even then it doesn't ensure results. There really are a lot of factors at play... and luck and timing.

I'm not even sure whether it was easier a few years ago or if everyone started at the bottom. There were less people working on/starting massive/epic IF projects, so it was easier to stand out from the crowd. But there were also less people in the community, so less readers, which might mean less interaction overall compared to now. But maybe it was the same as now, with a few project blowing up overnight and many staying at the bottoms for a while, and the difference is much striking than it used to be. Also, the IF Tumblr Scene in the early 2010s looked very different to now... But to get a clear answer on that, it would be easier to ask long-term IF creators whether they've seen stark differences. I wonder if COG creators opening Tumblr blogs had an effect on this too...

So what now?

Well, you really are not alone feeling this way (author tag).

But I don't also have a magic answer either to wash away those worries (if I did, I would probably be also in the super popular group of author). Here are some options?

Join a writer's group or an IF author one

Interact with other authors outside of those groups (asks, comments, regular conversation...)

Post your project on directory blogs and IF communities (discorgs, forums, other social media)

Join jams and competitions to get your name out there and receive some feedbacks

Or my favourite one that's been working for me personally:

Write for yourself, because it's fun as a hobby by itself; find the reason why you are doing this (it was learning new stuff for me); stop putting the numbers centre stage (because they are meaningless); take breaks from the internet...

That one is not easy. You are kind of forced to look inward for motivation and pushing yourself to continue. Do I slip up sometimes? Yeah, I get a but envious of other creators getting more attention that me, and I still check my stats often. I still get frustrated when only one person react to an update I worked so hard on, or even get absolutely nothing about the stuff I really enjoyed doing (sorry Detective Rye...).

But it's been less frustrating and stressful overall. I get to share the stuff I want to share when I want, and have grown a lot more over the past 6-8months than I did since I started working on it*. I feel like I've done my best writing because I'm just having fun. *I did start with an I don't care attitude when I got into IF, but when CRWL got some momentum, that didn't last...

Sidenote: the massive advantage of getting a lot of notes/followers also often comes with a lot of expectations and pressure.

[velkynkarma]

Why Brandon Sanderson Is an Amazing Writer (and Why You Should Read His Novels)

Last week I was recommending some novels to @bosstoaster and was really struggling to not fan squeal all over the place about just how incredible Sanderson’s novels are. Usually, when this happens, I try to pick 1-2 things I like about his writing to talk about, so I don’t talk a person’s ear off...but that usually means so much gets left out.

But I’ve been thinking about it since, so you know what? I can do whatever I want on my blog. So here’s my full, unadulterated breakdown of all the things that are so damned incredible (and consistent) about Brandon Sanderson’s novels (as well as his writing methodology). 

Does contain minor spoilers, but not for anything huge, and I tried to keep even the minor spoilers vague.

PLOT

Incredible world-building—that isn’t generic medieval fantasy-land

I love fantasy as much as the next person, and I enjoy most generic medieval fantasy stories if the plot or characters are great. But Sanderson’s always exploring different kinds of worlds, and entering them is always engaging. Magical cowboy western? A world continually buffeted by enormous hurricanes on a regular basis, so everything evolved to survive them, including the flora and fauna? A world where ash constantly falls? A world that is literally the embodiment of thought and concept? There’s always something exciting to discover.

Incredible magic systems

Like the generic medieval fantasy world-building, I’m used to the D&D style magic systems with energies and fireballs. Sanderson doesn’t touch these kinds of magic systems, though, and I’m continually stunned at just how creative the ones he does use are. Ingest metal, and use it to activate a latent power of yours? Bonding with the literal living embodiment of a concept in order to gain abilities? Re-writing the history of an item so it believes it can be different, and it changes? Using color as payment for a system based entirely around souls and soul coding? The list is long and always entertaining. He’s even written a whole article about how to design magic systems, which is also worth a read.

Really good at the ‘good’ kind of plot twists that leave you genuinely satisfied

I know we’ve all been frustrated by the recent trend that media seems to have these days: viewers or readers guess the direction the plot is heading in, and creators, in a panic, throw in a completely unrelated plot twist (changing the whodunnit, killing off a character, adding a resolution that makes no sense). Those suck. Let’s be real.

Sanderson does the opposite. He leaves the clues in his stories—they’re always there, and you can figure it out with the context clues, if you’re clever. If you’re not, he’s real good at throwing in twists that are hinted at, but still feel incredibly impactful and really satisfying. The end of The Emperor’s Soul still gives me chills, and I still love the twists regarding the big bads in Mistborn and The Stormlight Archive.

Also? He genuinely will catch you by surprise, sometimes. I consider myself to be a pretty experienced reader, and a decent writer. I can usually tell where plots are going for most stories. That’s satisfying, of course. But Sanderson has a way of still managing to sucker-punch me with a plot twist or reveal that feels shocking in a good way. I don’t see a lot of these coming, but the result isn’t disappointment, it’s a “holy crap—wow, how cool!” followed by an intense desire to reread half the story to pick out the clues that were sitting in front of me the whole time, now that I know what they’re actually for. 

Really interesting meta-level stories 

Depending on how invested you want to get, there’s a meta-level of interconnected story with the Cosmere. All of Sanderson’s stories are enjoyable on their own, and you’re never required to go deeper. But if you want to, you can, and suddenly there’s a whole second layer of information and characters in the background that you never really noticed, because most of his stories are actually connected to each other too. You don’t have to know who Hoid is or how he contributes to each separate story, you don’t have to be able to find the crossover characters that have literally crossed over from other books, and you don’t have to understand the whole Shards angle, and you can still enjoy all those books on an individual basis. But when you do know how to spot them in the narratives, it’s really fun, and you feel like you’re in on a great secret.

CHARACTER

Only male author I’ve ever read that actually writes GOOD female characters 

Brandon Sanderson seems to have hit on the not-so-secret secret that most male authors—who dominate the fantasy genre—haven’t seemed to figure out yet: women are people too. 

Consequently, Sanderson writes incredible varieties of female characters, each with their own personalities and quirks, who don’t necessarily fall into the “damsel in distress” or “masculine-coded action lady” stereotypes. See the politically savvy Sarene, the scholarly Shallan, the clever and artistic Shai, rebellious and somewhat childish Siri, the formal and analytical Steris. (These are literally just the ladies with names that start with S). 

But it gets better. Because even with action-hero ladies, they still have characterizations outside of ‘being a lady that beats people up like a man and strives to be as unlady-like as possible to prove she can beat people up like a man.’ Vin might be an action heroine, but she’s also a young woman who’s learning how to have a family, who’s scared of opening up to people, and who’s insecure about her place in the world. Marasi wants to be part of law enforcement, but admits to another character that she also likes the make-up and dresses and looking pretty—and she hates that people expect her to be a masculine action-lady that wears pants and starts fights, because she feels like she won’t even be seen in her field if she doesn’t, and like she has to represent all women. 

But I think the biggest example of this comes from his short story Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell, which (despite its edge-tastic title), is about a mother trying to protect her daughter. Sanderson wrote it as a part of the anthology Dangerous Women, and in his post-script on the story in Arcanum Unbounded, he writes: 

“I thought for a long time about the nature of an anthology called Dangerous Women. I worried that the stories submitted to it might fall into the trope of making women dangerous all in the same way....I didn’t want to write just another cliched story about a femme fatale, or a woman soldier who was basically a man with breasts. 

What other ways could someone be dangerous? I knew early on that I wanted my protagonist to be a middle-aged mother.”

In short, Sanderson actually understands how women work and writes actual, believable, likable female characters, who are just people and not sexual objects or prizes for men to receive at the end of the novel. It’s something we need, and it’s refreshing to see.

But on that note—he’s not afraid to let his male characters be softer either

In the same way that most female characters in fantasy are forced to be masculine-like action ladies, most male characters are also forced into the same role. There’s this misunderstanding that male characters have to all be sword-swinging barbarians who can’t have emotions. 

Sanderson punts this misunderstanding out the window and will have none of it.

There are so many good male characters in this series too that don’t immediately make you want to cringe. Look at Elend, who’s an intellectual doing his best but genuinely screws up a lot, and is all but useless for the first half of the series as a combatant. Look at Wayne, and his heartbreaking moment at the end of Bands of Mourning, who grieves for a person who’d been family to him and isn’t afraid to show how much he cares. Look at Adolin, who seems like the quintessential sword-swinging action-oriented jock, but then completely subverts all expectations by patiently and carefully helping characters with mental illnesses deal with them on their bad days, and being unhesitatingly supportive of his autistic brother. Look at Gaotona, who spends the whole book trying to educate someone on how they’re wrong—only to learn from them instead, and realize he was wrong, and to admit to it. 

Men have their soft moments, written by a male author who’s not afraid to put those moments into his works. And that’s really good, too.

In general, just really good characterization

Sanderson’s characters feel like people. They have oddball quirks, realistic-sounding conversations, and occasionally do things that make no sense. Just like friends, family, coworkers, etc that you and I all no doubt know. Hammond’s philosophical rambling (and Breeze’s frustrated bickering over it), Lift making it her life goal to steal dinners, Wayne’s justification for his kleptomania since he ‘trades’ items instead, David’s weird speech patterns and idioms—these characters are just fun to read, and have extra layers that just make them feel more real.

His books have a strong non-romantic relationship focus

Media in general is inundated with romantic and sexual relationships, and doubly so for fantasy novels—especially when fantasy novels often have a ‘prize’ romance at the end of the epic journey. Save the girl, get the girl. It can be frustrating, especially for people who aren’t interested in romance as a genre (there is a reason a lot of us are reading fantasy novels, and not romance ones).

Sanderson loves focusing on all kinds of relationships though, not just romantic ones. Found family, real family, strong platonic friendships, mentorships, interesting rivals, bonds out of duty—they’re all in here, and Sanderson’s not shy about making it clear. Look at Kelsier openly telling Vin he wishes he and his wife had a daughter like her and admitting he sees her as one, or the way the rest of the team turns her into their little sister that they all teach and protect. Look at Wax taking in Wayne, a scared kid who’d gotten in over his head and didn’t know what to do. Look at Kaladin looking at an entire band of slaves and going, ‘yeah, you’re all mine now and I protect you all,’ and how he forms a whole family out of Bridge Four that ultimately turns around and takes care of him, too (and of course, a lot of Kaladin’s story is driven by his own relationship with his actual family, specifically his younger brother). Look at Shallan doing all that she does at the start of the series to protect her brothers. Look at Prof struggling so hard to protect his little band of Reckoners even as he struggles to protect them from himself. Look at Shai and Gaotona, how they’re set up as prisoner and jailer, and yet they grow to ultimately respect each other.

I could go on and on, but the point is, these non-romantic relationships are everywhere, and they are considered to be just as important as—and sometimes more important than—romantic relationships. 

But on the flip-side, his romantic relationships are very well handled

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a big fan of romance or shipping. It generally doesn’t hold my interest. In most books, I skim or skip the romance parts, because I’m just not invested in those relationships. They feel flimsy. 

I don’t do that with Sanderson’s works. They’re the only books I’ve ever read where I genuinely feel invested in the characters’ romantic relationships. 

Because here’s the thing: all of these characters that are romantically involved, are also good friends, and that’s the basis of their entire relationship to begin with. And that means these relationships are accessible to everyone, regardless of romantic inclinations or interests. 

Adolin and Shallan just joking around and bantering, with him teaching her how to use swords, with her rattling off witty repartee to defend him in verbal spars? When they just genuinely enjoy each others’ company, without having to constantly make out or have sex to indicate why they like being around each other? That’s genuinely fun. It’s some lovely character interaction. Maybe I don’t “get” the parts where they want to do more romantically inclined things, but I can enjoy that they legitimately enjoy being around each other, that they’re good friends as well as romantic partners, and that they trust each other. And that means I can still be engaged in their relationship instead of yawning and skipping ahead a few pages.

Which brings me to:

He also takes common romantic tropes...and throws them in the garbage bin

Sanderson has other ways of handling romantic relationships that I (as a person who doesn’t like romance) finds so impressive it deserves its own section. Because he takes common romantic tropes, and subverts them, and makes the characters all the more healthy for it. 

On at least two occasions (in Stormlight Archive, and in the sequel Mistborn series), Sanderson has set up a classic love triangle...and then immediately broken it. In one novel, one of the male love interests graciously offers to back out if it will mean the female love interest is happy, because he really just wants her to be happy even if that means he’s not around, and she chooses him anyway...whereupon he makes it clear he’ll definitely help her with her mental health and he wants to be supportive of her. Holy shit, what a wild notion, an actual supportive character in a love triangle. In the second series, the love triangle gets set up, but ultimately broken when the man ultimately chooses the arranged marriage over the ‘true love’ angle, and then realizes he actually, legitimately enjoys the company of the lady in the arranged marriage, and the ‘true love’ love interest realizes that actually, that would have been a terrible idea and she wants to pursue her career. Again, a refreshing and ultimately all-around healthy take for all the characters on something that normally has some nasty fallout. 

In Mistborn, my first introduction to one of Sanderson’s series, I remember being genuinely floored and in awe of Elend’s and Vin’s relationship...because Vin is still really nervous about opening up to people and not comfortable with intimacy, and Elend is completely okay with that. He takes it slow with her, lets her set the pace, and doesn’t force her to do anything before she’s ready. Vin is most comfortable just being around/near him without doing anything inherently romantic, just being in his presence, and he is completely cool with that. And that’s such a healthy thing to see in a romantic story, because it’s really important for readers to see that yes, it’s totally OK to not rush into things, and yes, it’s totally OK for people to take it slower or easier for an uneasy partner. 

I could go on and on, but basically, romantic relationships in Sanderson’s novels are also engaging because a lot of the time? They’re healthy, and friendly, and toss most dramatic romantic subplots out on their ass.

While on that note?

He doesn’t do sex scenes

This one might be a loss for some, but it’s a win for me. Depending on how I feel on a given day, I’m either ‘irritated by’ to ‘really uncomfortable by’ sex scenes in novels...and unfortunately they’re prevalent, especially in fantasy novels. I usually end up uncomfortably flipping through these pages, trying to figure out where the scene ends so I can get back to the actual story. 

I honestly can’t think of a sex scene in any of his novels though. In fantasy, it’s stunningly refreshing, and I feel super safe and comfortable reading his novels because I don’t have to worry about uncomfortable surprises. Plus, circling back to the above points, it’s kind of nice to see characters having established relationships without it having to be solely reliant on them having a good or bad sex life.

Has LGBT+ relationships 

Yup, they’re there, and edge past ‘strongly implied’ to ‘blatantly stated’ in some cases too. Offhand, I can think of a pair of men in the Stormlight Archive who are noted to be in a relationship with each other, and a lesbian gunsmith in the second Mistborn series.

What I find important is not just the inclusion of these blatant relationships, but also how it’s treated as completely normal and not taboo in the context of these worlds, too. Non-straight relationships aren’t treated like a scourge or a difficulty these characters have to deal with; it’s just normal in these realities. 

Additionally, what I really like about them is the way other characters will get called out about it if they do cross a line (usually accidentally). In the above cases, Kaladin makes an ignorant off-hand remark about his gay Bridge Four soldier and is immediately called out about it by the rest of the Bridge Four gang, whereupon he realizes he’d crossed a line and apologizes right away. In the Mistborn series, Wayne repeatedly makes passes at lesbian gunsmith Ranette, who spurns his advances. But when he realizes she’s actually into girls, he backs off and respects that, rather than insisting on her dating him. These are some nice little lessons on how straight people actually should react regarding their non-straight friends and family, and normalizes non-straight people existing in society.

Sanderson has also been openly responsive to and cool about people interpreting his characters in non-straight relationships or reading “implied” relationships/romantic subtext, even if he hadn’t originally intended to put them there. Offhand, I can think of one situation where a reader told him he probably didn’t realize “just how bi” he’d written Shallan in regards to her interactions with Jasnah, to which Sanderson’s response was basically, “Well that wasn’t on purpose, but alright, cool, cool.” 

Also very good about inclusivity for mental illnesses and disabilities

While we’re on the topic of inclusivity, let’s talk mental illnesses and disabilities as well, because Sanderson is great about including these too. In Stormlight Archive alone, we have: 

Renarin, who in addition to having some physically disabilities (specifically, seizures and being physically weak), is confirmed by Word of God to be on the autistic spectrum. And he’s treated with respect and support by his family members and friends. His father shows up to meetings or events he wants to go to, just so he can feel comfortable going to them to show interest in things men typically aren’t supposed to. His brother protects him fiercely in combat but also does his best to give him space to grow, and understands that his brother is incredibly intelligent but sometimes just needs a little time to organize his thoughts or figure out how to communicate. Kaladin understands his physical disabilities immediately and is able to give advice on how to deal with them. The entirety of Bridge Four adopts him as another brother. Jasnah finds another way. I could go on, but basically, Renarin is great

Kaladin has clinical depression, and possibly some form of PTSD, even if they don’t have the technical words for this in-universe. He really struggles with this a lot in the series. Despite that, other characters look out for him a lot, and this creates some genuinely tender moments. 

Shallan rapidly developing some identity disorders. Actually breaks down and admits this to another character. The other character is fiercely supportive of her despite that and doesn’t give up on her so easily

Lopen doesn’t have an arm, but despite being physically disabled, Kaladin still immediately values him and he finds a place on the team. He’s also just...legitimately chill about being an amputee, makes missing arm jokes all the time, and doesn’t seem terribly bothered by it. I believe Sanderson even stated that there’s no real tragic story behind the missing arm...it’s just Lopen. That’s it. 

Teft struggles with substance abuse and insecurity, but the entirety of Bridge Four is super supportive in helping him break it

There’s a character who ends up paralyzed from the waist down over the course of the series. She thinks she’s done for and her life is over, but her mentor keeps encouraging her to try things anyway. 

Honestly, this series is enormous—there’s probably a ton more I’m not even remembering off-hand.

All of this is usually handled pretty tactfully and often brings in some really heartwarming character interactions when characters struggle with issues and other characters help them overcome them. Do you like hurt/comfort and whump in fanfiction? Sanderson does this in actual fiction. It’s great.

WRITING METHODOLOGY

He actually takes the time to write good stories

Sometimes a long-awaited book in a series coughDeathlyHallowscough comes out and you just know it was rushed. You can see it in the way the plot threads are resolved, in the way some threads are just never resolved and end up hanging there open-ended, in the way the epilogues are short and empty.

Sanderson doesn’t do this. He’s pretty transparent about it on his Twitter, where he’ll post updates on his writing progress percentages. Sometimes he apologizes for a delay on a book, because he wants to make sure it’s done right or he works out a plot point just so, or he needs to go back and re-read some old material to make sure there’s no hanging plot points. 

This is good. This is great. This means he genuinely cares about his work, and he wants to produce good content. I will happily wait an extra couple months if it means the book that’s going to sit on my shelf for years to come has a satisfactory start, middle and end.

He’s always ready to give advice to up-and-coming writers, and he’s great about fandoms

Sanderson has a whole segment on his blog devoted to answering questions about writing. He also has a whole series of lectures available for free online. I’ve even heard him in podcasts and blogs in other things. He’s not shy about giving advice and encouraging up and coming writers, and he’s always so encouraging about it too. He’s also totally cool with fanfiction, unlike some big name authors out there who get very elitist about fandoms and the comparative “worthlessness” of fanfiction. 

Some of his novels are available for free, right now, on his website

A bunch of his novels and novellas are available totally for free on his website, which means additional accessibility for people who don’t have the cash for books, ebooks, or audio books, and don’t have time to get to a library. 

Many of them are also available as audiobooks, which means you can probably snag them through your local library’s audio book checkout system as well. 

In conclusion

Brandon Sanderson rocks, his stories rock, and everyone who likes fantasy should really give them a shot, for all of the above reasons. 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

hello my favorite writer it is me again i was wondering if i could have another will imagine (gn as usual) and could it be about a reader who feels insecure about being wills partner because they’re still working on being famous and feel like they’re mooching off of wills fame and end up pushing him away slightly and it’s angsty, but ends in fluff with will finally telling them he loves them and reassuring kisses <3

Favorite writer?? You flatter me, darlin', but thank you!

Also, so sorry this took so long! I've been really unmotivated/lazy lately and I wanted to write this as perfect as I possibly could. Also also, ya know how the Powerpuff Girls were made? Sugar, spice, and everything nice but Chemical X was added accidently? Yeah, this is that, but replace Chemical X with a lot of angst. My bad.😬

WARNING: Depressing themes throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't often you felt insecure, but you figured it was just one of those days.

You hadn't been in many blockbuster films or tv shows, you were still working hard on your career. You loved the indie projects you worked on, you loved any job where you could act. It was your passion, after all.

You couldn't help feel a little bit insecure when your partner, Will, was where you aspired to be your whole life. He was brilliant, working with amazing people like Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio. So early in his career too. You looked up to Will so much, praying that you'd be just as talented as him one day. But you knew it wouldn't be easy, acting isn't exactly the easier job in the world, you knew it would take a lucky break.

You always joked that maybe you should work as a waiter in some restaurant, knowing that Edward Norton got his first movie role while working in such a place, only to move on to work beside the amazing Richard Gear.

It was just one day you felt bad about your career, but then it started to snowball into anxiety and depression. It got to the point where it was all you could think about, especially when you were out with Will. And you could tell that he knew something was up, the thousand yard stare that you often had was something that couldn't really go unnoticed.

But for the most part, you acted like everything was fine.

You hated that you let your insecurity pile on and on like this, it normally was something you could handle. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself scrolling for hours looking at comments on any of your posts. Most people were supportive of you and Will's relationship, and you were thankful for that. But of course, there are always a few bad apples.

The wonderful and lovely, supportive comments were many, outweighing the hate by miles. But just one negative comment could throw you off, ruining your day.

You wished you could just focus on the positive, but unfortunately, that's not how brains are designed. It always has to point out a flaw, find that one odd man out, find the error in the system. Usually, most of those errors can be fixed. You spent your entire life trying to get people to like you, being somewhat of a pushover and a people pleaser, disregarding your own self in favor of praise. So seeing people online hating you for no other reason besides being with Will, seeing that they might never change their minds, it was devastating.

You knew that the hate would usually come from obsessed fans who must've been jealous of you, and you could understand that and it was fine. You remembered the younger years of being jealous of a person who dated your crush, it was something that most people grow out of thankfully. You could get over those comments, saying you weren't good looking enough or not fit enough, any comments about your appearance. The ones that really got to you was the comments about your "horrible" personality.

It was odd, people saying awful things about you when they didn't even know you at all. Most of the contradictory was were amusing. There was a point in time after your relationship with Will was made public, where you'd feel to nervous about going to red carpet events with him. The comments would say, "Y/n's not there with Will? What an unsupportive partner they must be!" or anything similar. But when you started to go with him sometimes, the comments would shift dramatically.

"Y/n's a gold digger."

"They're just using Will for his fame."

"He deserves better than that snake."

It hurt, more than you'd admit. You told Will it didn't bother you that much, just wrote it off that it's normal. Then, you never talked about it again.

You felt awful, every single day. Thoughts of self doubt clouding your brain constantly, thinking, "Am I really deserving of such a kind person like Will?" No matter how you looked at it, the answer was always no.

You started to feel like you shouldn't even be with Will anymore. There was most likely someone else out there, an actor with more talent and more self-sufficient than you were.

You and Will had been together for a couple years, you loved him so much, but when he asked you to move in with him, you said you weren't ready. The biggest lie you ever told, and you instantly regretted it when you saw the disappointed look on his face. But being the gentleman that he is, he said it was completely okay and that there was no pressure.

You absolutely didn't deserve him.

Every time Will asked you to go out with him, you always came up with an excuse to stay home. You felt too anxious about being out in public, the thought of a fan seeing you with Will brought you to the verge of a panic attack. You became distant, trying to distract yourself by throwing yourself into your work. You rarely saw Will anymore, and you knew if you kept up with how you were acting on your insecurity, you'd lose him. But you couldn't bring yourself to try and talk to him about it, you felt too embarrassed.

From Will's point of view, he thought you were becoming distant because of him. He wracked his mind trying to think what was it that he did to make you spend less time with him? At first, he thought, maybe you just needed some space. There were times where he needed to be alone, just like everyone does. But it felt like it was going on for too long. Every time he wanted to take you out somewhere nice, you'd politely decline and you'd opted for a night in.

There came a point where enough was enough, Will was determined to find out what was going on with you.

You stared at your cellphone, the screen lighting up with a picture of Will along with your set ringtone. You sighed, you really didn't feel like answering. You knew you should, but you couldn't bring yourself to. A feeling of dread washed over you, you didn't want him to think you hated him, yet you still couldn't. You rang your fingers through your hair, anxiously scratching your scalp harshly.

Your screen darkened, following with a notification, voicemail and text. "Y/n, what's going on? I've been trying...", you couldn't listen anymore.

"I'm sorry, Will..." You whispered to yourself, wrapping yourself up tightly in a blanket.

You almost screamed when you heard a rapid knock on your door, quickly tensing up when you heard Will call out from outside. "Y/n?"

You wanted to fucking scream.

"I know you're in there, just, please, talk to me."

The desperation in his voice forced you to get up from your couch, tossing away your cozy blanket with a huff. You shakily reached out and opened the door, Will's concerned face filling your view. "...hi."

Will chuckled bitterly. "Hi? That's it? You haven't talked to me in days. What's going on, love?"

"Nothing!" You explained, plastering on a fake smile with a chuckle.

Will smiled sadly. "You're lying." He said simply, pushing his way past you into your home.

"Will, please, I'm not up to talking right now."

"You know, I want to respect your wishes, I really do. But I feel that I've been patient. I've been trying to support you in any way that I can, but I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He sat down on your couch, pleading for you to sit next to him with his eyes. "We used to be open and honest with each other about everything. Tell me what's going on so I can help you."

You huffed, running your hands over your face. "It's not that simple..."

Will casted his gaze to your wooden floor, squeezing his hands together and taking a deep shaky breath. "Is it...is it because it's something I did?"

"What?"

"You're shutting me out. It's because of me, isn't it? I did something-"

"No." You quickly exclaimed, rushing over to his side when you heard his voice waver, taking ahold of one of his hands. "No, it's not you, I promise."

"Then...why? Why are you pushing me away?" Will sighed, biting his lip to keep himself from crying. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"I love you, Will, more than I can express." You chuckled bitterly. "It's hard to talk about."

Will brought a hand up to your face, gently brushing a freshly fallen tear off your face. "You can tell me anything, Y/n, anything."

You smiled weakly, bringing his hand you were holding up to your lips and kissed his knuckles softly. "Okay..." You took a deep breath.

"Take your time, love."

"Being with you, brings me so much happiness that it feels like I'm dreaming. You're so...amazing, and honestly the best and most kind person I've ever met. And I? I feel like I'm nobody."

"Y/n..."

"Compared to others, I'm no one. Just another person trying to live out their dreams that are so far fetched that it doesn't even seem possible to even come close to achieving them. You're so self assured that acting is what you were born to do and you're so talented. I envy you, and I feel so guilty feeling that way. Sometimes I feel like I wasn't meant to be an actor. I feel like...I'm trying to run towards my goal, but every time I make progress, the goal moves farther and farther away until I can't even see it anymore."

"Y/n," Will started softly, "I know how you feel. I've felt that way about my career too. I always wondered if there was going to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, you can work as hard as you humanly can, but it also takes luck. You just have to be at the right place at the right time sometimes. That's why they call it a lucky break, ya know." He smiled, making you giggle tearfully.

"I know, but that's not all." You frowned. "I know you said, it's just better to ignore what the internet has to say, but...I was looking some of our comments a few months ago. And...I just went down a fuckin' rabbit hole. I know I always say that hate comments don't bother me, but...they do. They really do, and I let them get to me. I'm sorry."

"No, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't see what was really going on when I should've."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Will. I thought I was stronger than this."

Will quickly brought you close to his chest, wrapping around your torso with one arm, the other gently cupping your jaw. "Hey, you are the strongest person I know, okay? Don't think you're weak just because you're feeling something that every human on planet earth feels. Whatever those comments said, there's no one I'd rather be with than you." He leaned forward and kissed you gently, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I felt so embarrassed, Will. I wished I had talked to you sooner."

"It doesn't matter now. You opened up and I'm proud of you for that. I love you so much. And I promise to try my very hardest to never let you feel that way again."

~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed, @fcvcritecrime ! 🖤

[ventura-starlight]

angelicstrwbrry's 2k21 year in review >♡<

on March 14th I officially signed away my soul and caved to become an anime blog. the day prior I wrote [for the first time in a while 😭] and basically broke up with my harry potter phase that had conquered my entire personality on this blog for 2 years. and since that day I have been a Haikyuu blog!

When I joined the Fandom I was welcomed by some amazing writers, making me feel more welcome to be an aspiring writer. and although sometimes the writing was cheesy as hell 😐 and the themes were....questionable 😋😋 [basically when I didn't have my sibling helping me]. you have all supported me so much!

about the time I switched blogs I had just reached the 200 follower milestone. and that took me about 2 years to achieve. now at the time of writing this I have 495 amazing supporters. truthfully you all have meant the world to me and I can't explain how much it means to have you all. the past few years have been shit for me but having a support system this amazing hasn't gone unnoticed [seriously- my therapist knows about yall 😭😭] thank you all <3 I love you and I can't wait to see how we grow together <3

STATS BABYYYYY

angelicstrwbrry's survey <3

[please fill out the survey!! it will be amazing to hear from you all and find out what I can do better going forward in this blog :)^^]

Followers: 495

How many writings? 54 [I think lol]

PERSONAL TOP 10: [in no order]

SONGS:

•Put On a Smile // Silk Sonic [literally heaven sent ☹]

•Lo Que Siento //Cuco [thanks damaris for sharing♡]

•Forever // Mumford and Sons [HIPPIE ALERT ⚠️📢]

•So Long // Fleece [let me give this a kiss rn. please]

•Rom-Com Gone Wrong // Matt Maltese [AHHHH 🤍]

•Cry Your Heart Out // Adele [HER NEW ALBUM>>>]

•134340 // BTS [honestly yeah. it's just. so. perfect.]

•Bambi // Clairo [ouchie. but it's relatable so whatever]

•Connect The Dots // Greer [I LOVE THEM AJHHHH]

•Uuuu // Steve Lacy [Steve <3 pls marry me <3 pls <3]

ARTISTS:

•Silk Sonic [gave me everything I needed and more]

•Tyler The Creator [main bae <3 but I love him sm ☹]

•Taylor Swift [I became a hardcore swiftie this year💕]

•Hozier [top artist and!! my favorite tree man :)]

•Mitski [I'm mentally ill. is anyone really surprised? 🙄]

•Faye Webster [I love <3 if you see my insta? yeah <3]

•Matt Maltese [NEW FAV DISCOVERY!!! LOVEEE]

•Ginger Root [pls check him out cause omg amazing]

•Adele [7 year old me is gagging because omfg <3 🛐]

Phoebe Bridgers [once again. mentally ill + therapy]

FICS:

•songs they post you with [simp content but it's cool!]

•how they love you [☹☹ my babies :c]

•simply mine [I LOVE SAKUSA SO MUCH AND PLS]

•almost like being in love [more simps but EEEEEE]

•when we were young [only this sequel >>>>>>>>]

from other blogs....

•mi mariposita by @lalaangeldust [absolutely amazing writer and so sweet! her writings are outstanding and deserve your love ☹☹ the blog theme is immaculate and she has so much talent! MHA ppl, pls go visit!!!!!]

•husband!keiji by @sunkeiji [to all my fellow akaashi lovers out there, you should know sayu by now and omg does she do amazing work! I love everything <3]

•dad!kuroo anything by @kuroosweakness [one of my old favorite type of blogs. she is amazing and so well thought out? seriously works are like poetry to me <3]

•the indeed series by @host-club-hq [I gave been loving this series since day 1 and omgg! this is a kyoya fic series and I love their portrayl of the characters so much! it's not generic and is so well written and ACK]

•haikyuu boys and the one bed trope by @simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair [I went back and read this a million times since it was posted. so amazing and just the buildup isn't too much. an amazing read for trying to fall asleep at night :))]

PLAYLISTS: check out my spotify ;))

[lokiondisneyplus]

‘Loki’ Director Kate Herron on Tom Hiddleston + Why You Can’t ‘Wait for Permission’

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, more than lives up to his God of Mischief title. You can never be sure what the character will do next. For director Kate Herron, though, rehearsal and planning ahead are actually a key component of her process, even for the Disney+ series named for the mercurial character, “Loki.” But, she adds, as important is allowing for a little mischief on set.

“I do a lot of rehearsal. When we actually get to set, particularly on ‘Loki,’ we’re really on a fast schedule. We filmed it like a six-hour sort of extravaganza, but we were on a TV schedule. That was very ambitious for what we were trying to achieve,” Herron says. “Rehearsal was so key in that, and it’s working out in rehearsal, not to the point that you can’t discover fresh things about the script on the day, but just so we were all kind of on the same page by the time we got to set and we knew what we were going for. Then it was really just discovering new things on set, to be honest.”

The Disney+ show answers a question set up in “Avengers: Endgame”: What happened to the Loki that managed to get away when the Avengers went back in time to the events of the first film? It turns out, that’s when the Time Variance Authority (TVA) and Agent Mobius, played by Owen Wilson, stepped in. In the series, Loki—along with the viewers—learns more about the TVA monitoring timelines and the variants, including other Lokis, that the organization deals with.

Generally, Herron writes and directs her projects, and what draws her to them is typically an idea she’s had herself, and then “following that through from script to screen.” But for “Loki,” it was a love of the character more than anything.

“I think he has one of the best arcs in the MCU and I love the comics,” she says. “I was just excited to see where they were taking the character and then obviously, they sent me what they were going to do with the character and I thought, I want to be a part of this.”

For Herron, working on a Marvel project was very different from her previous outings behind the camera (she’s directed episodes of “Sex Education,” among other projects), particularly as far as how the production was run. She likens the experience to working on a big-budget film opposed to a typical TV show, which also impacted her initial approach to the material.

“The first thing was just working with Michael [Waldron] and some of the writers. They’d already done their main write-through and then we did like a second mini kind of writers’ room with Michael, Elissa Karasik, and my executive producer, Kevin Wright, from Marvel,” she explains. “We just kind of spoke through some of the other story elements, just fresh thoughts that I had coming in and stuff that they also really wanted to keep working on.”

The Loki that we meet in this series is the character from the very first “Avengers” film, but having Hiddleston get back into the spirit of the character, luckily, wasn’t difficult given how long he’s been playing the role.

“No one knows Loki better than Tom. I think for me, it was really just about having his back. We’d chat while we filmed that first episode a lot about making sure that he was ‘ Avengers’ Loki, and bringing that presence,” Herron says. “We actually would talk a lot about scenes from ‘The Avengers’  in terms of where [Loki] is emotionally, because he was only there hours before. I think that’s generally how we both kind of kept in check with each other and made sure it was the Loki from 2012.”

Despite her diverse credits, Herron’s advice for aspiring directors is tinged with what could be seen as a very Loki sentiment: Don’t wait for permission. “When I got ‘Sex Education,’ I was working at a fire extinguisher company,” she says. “I’ve worked in so many offices, which in a way actually helped a lot with the TVA and it feeling like a real office, because I’ve worked in so many. Honestly, just go out and make something, even if it’s on your phone or just whatever means you have. A friend of mine made a film just using a desktop computer and it was great.”

In a similarly resourceful spirit, when working as a waitress, Herron would attend comedy nights in order to persuade comedians to work with her. And while working on her shorts, she listed everything she had access to and recommends aspiring directors do the same.

“It was like, wherever I was living or the street outside my friend’s house, and also interesting stuff, like my friend had a boat or if your friend has a cool car or something. I think it���s a kind of trying to find things that are strange, maybe a friend has a weird pet or something,” Herron says. “Things you can build into a story, with what you have access to, so you’re not hindered by budget. Just go out and make something. That’s the best advice I can give. I did my short for probably about $150. That was just me using not the latest technology, but whatever I could get my hands on.”

[smoll-tangerine]

hii nini! im a big fan of yours, ive been reading your fics ever since i was introduced to nct by a close friend of mine. i'm a rather young teen who is an aspiring author, and as a person who has never been able to explore the fanfiction side of writing before, i truly think your writing is amazing and is a rare gem. you create magic with your words, you give the reader the feels! (with a few awkward and curious encounters with... 18+ works, which are also works of art!!!1!!1 its just something i am uncomfortable with and avoid as a minor), the incredible writing kpop fanfic writing community your work inspired me create a writing blog on tumblr and i am currently eager to branch out to people with similar interests to mine. are there any tips that you could suggest for a fresh writer on tumblr (how to create au ideas, how to imitate personas we see on cameras through writing, how to decorate your blog to attract intended audiences, etc)? i would be so thankful if you replied to this <3

love,

your aspiring anon

hi aspiring anon!! 💛 thank you so much for this!! i never would have thought that my writing would elicit such reaction from someone, and i'm so honoured that my writing is inspiring to you!

idk where to start, but i can tell you that when i first started writing kpop fanfiction, i was also at the beginning of my teens (literally started writing exo fanfics when i was 13-14 years old on this website called asianfanfics)!! it's a very new and exciting time, and i honestly can't wait for you to start your journey!

i also consider myself relatively new to tumblr, only started posting stuff on this site back in august 2020 and i'm still learning every day. but when it comes to writing, it's always a single scene that prompts me to write and flesh out a whole story.

"the scene" -- the one that inspired me to write the story or an idea that i've always wanted to write about. idk how many of my fics have you read, but here's an example with once again. i've always wanted to write an nct story, so i obviously went with jaehyun because he's my bias, an exes-to-lovers!au, and "the scene" that made me write the whole thing which is:

“Do… do you hate me now?” he asked. It was a wonder how I was still able to discern his soft voice amidst the deafening crowd.

I hesitated, seriously pondering on his question and searching for the answer within deep inside me. My lips trembled upon the realization and I shook my head slightly with a tired smile.

“No, I could never hate you, Jaehyun,” I said. “But you sure gave me a reason to.”

and boom, the whole story just spawned from this scene in particular. it made me think of how i wanted to write each character, their backstories, and what happened that led them to become exes, and what other type of drama i could conjure up, and etc.

writing is such a tricky thing because you want to achieve that perfect balance between description and action. so when editing, i always ask myself -- especially when reading descriptions, verbs, etc. -- are these necessary? what do they contribute to the overall plot? am i droning/waffling/babbling without any purpose or just to reach a particular word count?

i find that the easiest way to improve your writing is to read your favourite authors works! my writing style when i was 13 compared to my current one is so different. but it's also due to how you want to write and what kind of style you want to go for. i consider myself more of a "pretty" writer and i think this aspect really shone through with come morning light where i tried to match the writing style to the story even more than i usually do, as opposed to cerca trova, which was more fast paced, hence the blunt and straight to the point-like sentences and writing style.

my favourite way to come up with new ideas or to help flesh out a story is to discuss my ideas with my (4) best friends jeongvision, sehunniepotwrites, ppangjae, and jaedore. we always message each other with new fic ideas, help each other with editing and coming up with plot twists, etc., and i think this is one of the best parts about writing fanfics and the kpop writing community on tumblr. (granted, given that i'm a very SHY person, i barely interacted with people when i first started LOL).

this is getting LONG BUT BEAR WITH ME kfjskfjs

as for how to decorate my blog, it's really up to you!! it's one of the best things about tumblr and i think that as long as you decorate it the way you like, then it's awesome because it allows your readers to have a glimpse of your personality or what you like!! i also enjoy perusing theme coding blogs because they have nice themes and that's usually where i start when i want to redo my tumblr theme :)

i really hope this was helpful!! and feel free to drop me another message in my ask if you need more advice or just wanna talk hehe (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ♥

also, can you let me know which stories of mine that led you to have your awkward and curious encounters with 18+ works? ksjfksjfs although i don't write explicit nsfw works, i do write some implied/suggestive stuff and i want to tag/write my warnings properly!!

[coke-and-candy]

A Little Competition Never Hurt Anyone: Part One

Alya is hoping that her contest entry, that she wrote about a certain someone, will finally be the solid proof that Marinette needs to open her eyes and see that Lila is not a bad person. Unfortunately, sometimes the best intentions can be misguided and trust misplaced...

This is a little fic idea that I have had for a while now. I’ve read plenty of salt-fics and I think it’s time to let go of the bitterness that the writers have instilled in us over their poor decisions and writing of the characters we love. Let’s start the new year with a little heartbreak and a little bit of redemption. :)

Edit: Now on FF.net! (link) and AO3 (link)

Part 2! (link)

Alya Césaire was many things…

She was a blogger, an up-in-coming journalist, a proud self-proclaimed superhero enthusiast, passionate, stubborn…

But most importantly she was determined.

It was this unstoppable force of will that was one of her greatest strengths. In her mind at least—her parents and the Paris police department may have a few choice words in regards to her obsessions at times, specifically when it came to recording akuma battles for the Ladyblog…

But she couldn’t help it! Once Alya set her mind to something, she committed her heart and soul to it. She would move mountains and cross oceans to achieve the goal that she had set herself. It also something that, in her mind, made her a good friend. The blogger would never hesitate to stand up for her friends and she was most definitely a ‘ride or die’ type of gal when it came to the people she held dear to her. There wasn’t anything she wasn’t willing to do if it meant helping out the people she cared about.

It’s why she was so invested in making Adrinette happen, her bestie, Marinette, deserved to have her happily-ever-after and get the guy of her dreams. The young Chinese-French biracial fashion designer deserved to have some good karma come her way. She was always working so hard to help everyone else achieve their dreams and goals, killing it as class rep, designing for big names like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, helping out her parents in best bakery in all of Paris, AND she was such a big help when it came to watching the twins so Alya and Nino could have an extra date or two (even if they did tend to dump them on her last minute…).  

So if anyone deserved for the universe to smile on him or her for all the good that they do it was Marinette Dupain-freaking-Cheng.

Alya would fight anyone who said otherwise.

The only other person that Alya personally knew who did as much good was Lila Rossi, the new girl who had joined their class a few months into the school year.

The Italian student had already done so much and was continuing to do so much good for the world! What with her numerous charitable works around the world and all the other awesome stuff that she had done, such as rescuing Jagged Stone’s kitten and consulting with Hollywood directors for their next big film projects, just to name a few things. Alya honestly couldn’t remember them all… Plus! Being Ladybug’s BFF!

If Alya didn’t live in Paris, which was currently being terrorized by some major jerk that used magical butterflies to use people’s emotions against them and turn them into unpredictable monsters, AND hadn’t met Marinette—someone with QUITE the impressive resume all on her own (like seriously, that girl was too humble sometimes)—Alya would have thought that Lila was a bit too good to be true…

But Paris had taught her that NOTHING is as impossible as it seems.

Plus, why would anyone lie about those kinds of things? Alya had no reason to NOT believe Lila when she suddenly had to leave town for a few days in order to attend a fundraising event halfway across the world for homeless animals.

So one would think that Marinette and Lila couldn’t be anything BUT friends, considering how amazing both girls were but that was were everything stopped making sense.

After all, they were both kind, selfless, supportive, cheerful people who were fun to be around and both of them were well accomplished, bright young girls.

But for some reason Marinette just didn't want anything to do with the other girl. The moment Lila was mentioned Marinette would start to close off or not partake in the conversation until it had moved on to a new topic. Or if they were all hanging out as a group, Marinette would put as much distance between her and Lila without just straight up leaving. She never wanted to do any group projects with Italian girl, unless they were randomly assigned, the fashion designer always bailed on girls only activities if she knew Lila was going to be there, and would leave earlier if they didn’t tell her.

Alya just couldn’t understand it. Lila was a nice, sweet, and amazing girl! She was sure that if Marinette would just set her jealousy aside for a minute she would be able to see that and then she and Lila could become great friends.

The aspiring journalist knew that Marinette was capable of it too! She had been able to do it with Kagami

The two Asian girls were now really good friends and were hanging out more as well. There was a steady stream of pictures from Marinette’s Instagram showing the two of them having fun together. Even though Kagami was her main competition when it came to winning Adrien’s heart, it didn’t get in the way of the two of them going out for tea or watching those weird Brazilian dramas they both seemed to like. Hell! The female fencer had even now made it up onto Marinette’s famous picture wall along side all of her other friends from class.

So why couldn’t Marinette do the same for Lila?

Lila didn’t even like Adrien that way! Lila had told Alya that in confidence. So what if the Italian got to model alongside the younger Agreste and spend a lot more time with him? That didn’t mean that she was going to steal him away from Marinette. Lila was NOT that kind of girl.

It was starting to really wear on Alya that two of her closest friends—who were also two of the most amazing people she had ever met—couldn’t be in the same room together without some sort of drama starting up. It usually ended with Lila in tears and Marinette leaving because she was unwilling to apologize. For all of her journalistic and reporter skills Alya could not come up with a logical reason as to why Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Lila Rossi could not be friends.

Then, one day, after another one of these drama filled episodes (they had been talking about their intended Lycee coursework plans) Alya had gotten a notification her phone for an upcoming contest and was struck with inspiration for an absolutely ingenious plan!

If Marinette was unwilling to get past her own jealousy and pettiness and see that Lila was genuinely good person then it was up to Alya to prove it to her… and she knew just the way to do it.

La Compétition Olmpe de Gouges.

One of the biggest and most prestigious journalism contests in all of France that was open to all school age and university students. With many former winners, especially for the higher levels, going on to win other highly sought after internships and being accepted into some of the best journalism programs from around the world.  

The theme for this year’s competition: future leaders.

According to the prompt, students would have to write and present a biography about a young person who showed promise as a future leader, the impact they have already had in their community, their achievements, their possible impact in the future, and why it is that they are someone for the world to keep an eye on.

And the young blogger knew exactly whom this prompt would be perfect to write about.

Lycee was just around the corner and Alya wanted to start her Lycee career right with a few professional internships or recognitions underneath her belt. She used to think that her blog would give her a big boost when it came to her extra-curricular activities but after meeting Lila… well it just made Alya realize that she needed to step up her game.

Even just placing in the top twenty would be a big boost for Alya’s writing resume!

Double bonus if this was finally what could convince Marinette to swallow her pride, apologize for not really giving Lila a chance, and FINALLY everyone could friends.

This was a win-win situation all around!

The only downside she could possibly see is if Marinette remained stubborn and refused to face the facts and evidence that Alya was about to practically layout in front of her.

But Alya was confident that she could write and a create a presentation good enough to, not only make it to the final rounds, but ALSO convince the budding designer that she had been wrong about their newest classmate this whole time.

As Alya sat down at her desk she opened up her laptop and pulled up the webpage for the contest and made sure to carefully study the rules, guidelines, and the criteria that the entrees would be judged on. Sloppy work was not something Alya planned on turning in. She pulled out a notepad and started brain storming and outlining some ideas she already had, as well as everything she knew about Lila. Sure there seemed to be some blanks and inconsistencies but Alya was just pulling what she could from her memory at the moment.

Lila had done so many awesome things and she was currently doing even more at the moment that it was hard to keep track of everything. She would have to ask her for more information later but for now Alya was content in just brain storming and outlining. Editing and proofreading may not always be something she always got a chance to do, especially with some of her more recent blog posts, but news tended to happen quickly. Blink and you would miss something. Luckily, the contest deadline was not for another six weeks so Alya had plenty of time to clean everything up and get her facts and sources straight.

It was best to get all of her ideas out at once and then go back to organize them later, just to make sure she didn't lose anything she wanted to touch upon in her entry.

The next thing she had to do was make sure that no one knew what she was up to.

She wanted this to be a surprise.

Alya had realized early on that the best way to get Marinette to agree to something was to not give her enough time to overthink things like she tended to do. Even thought it was a little harsh sometimes… but it was honestly for the girl’s own good.

Sometimes a little spontaneity was a good thing, and Lila had told her the other day about how she had volunteered with a charity that specialized in helping with mental health disorders like anxiety and depression. She had then told her all about the new study that was showing promise by putting people with anxiety into situations where there was no chance for them to think about what was ‘supposedly’ stressing them out and thus teaching them that those stressors were no big deal after all. It was still in the early stages of testing but Lila had assured her that the people she was helping were already making major progress in dealing with their anxiety.

Plus, when Marinette did finally get a chance to see her work Alya wanted to make sure that Marinette listened with an unbiased opinion and an open mind.

As Alya continued to write everything she knew about what Lila had done and was currently doing, and all the reasons as to why she was definitely someone who would be sure to make a huge positive impact on the world in the future, she could feel a sense of pride in her friends and in herself.

How lucky she was to have crossed passed with someone so selfless and so remarkable. Especially, when you factored in the fact that Lila didn’t even need to wear a mask and use magic jewelry to do good in the world. But what did she expect from someone who was Ladybug’s best friend? It made sense that someone as awe-inspiring as Ladybug was bound to be close to someone like Lila.

The more Alya brainstormed the more her excitement for this contest grew. She could already picture it…

Her giving her presentation in front of all of her friends and family, Marinette and Lila putting their past beef behind them and hanging out like the good friends Alya just knew they could be…

Alya just knew that this contest was the key to it.

She was absolutely sure of it!

And she was determined to prove it.

-----

We all know where this is going... 

[bellshells]

Nobody Can Know Part Four

It’s here! The finale of Nobody Can Know! This was actually really emotional for me, 52, 540 words later and this fic has come to an end. I have had the absolute best time writing this and I must send a massive shout out to @hinagiku0 for requesting this in the first place. I do have a bonus chapter in the works set in between parts two and three, but no time frame as to when that will be finished. Thank you to everyone who has come on this journey with me, and thank you to everybody who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to send me your kind words. You’ve made this aspiring writer very happy indeed. Thank you. 

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin Reader Warnings: Language, Angst, Blood, Smoking, Alcohol, Smut Summary: Christmas has come faster than anyone could have anticipated, but with everything so up in the air; it’s impossible to celebrate. The promise of a break away may give everyone the clarity they need.  Word Count: 17.4k+

“No, you can’t. That’s- no. I won’t let you.”

  George looked at you with a look of utter desperation, it made you ache. You bit the inside of your cheek to distract from the pain in your heart, it didn’t work. He shook his head and wiped at his face as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, George. I just need to think.” You whispered, you longed to reach for him, to comfort him; but your mind was made up. “I need some time away.”

  “Why? Love listen, please just talk to me. Tell me what to do.” George begged, he grasped your hand across the table and squeezed tightly. “I’ll do anything.”

You smiled sadly; you knew he would; he would do anything in that moment to keep you there. But was that enough?

  “I know George, I just feel…honestly I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. I just need to get away from everything so I can sort myself out.”   “From me?”   “From you, from the shop, everything!” You answered tersely, you didn’t mean to be blunt with him, you were uncomfortable seeing George distressed. But he needed to understand that you wouldn’t be swayed.   “Do you still love me?” He asked, his face twisted in agony as you pulled your hand away and placed it in your lap.   “That’s never in question.” You stood and walked around the table to where George sat, he looked at you expectantly as you bent down. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll send you an owl when I’m settled, so you know how to reach me if anything happens.”   “Where will you go?”   “A friends.”

************

  Cokeworth was probably the most depressing place you had ever set foot in. The industrial town was still dirty from the smoke that the chimney of the old mill had puffed out. While in recent years it had ceased in its emission, the last century’s worth of grime had remained strong. It was a bleak, often sad reminder of the proletariat forefathers of the current upper working-class families who had purchased the many two-bed terraced houses for good rail links to Birmingham and Wolverhampton. You could never have imagined that Professor Snape lived somewhere like that, but really, you couldn’t imagine Professor Snape living anywhere other than Hogwarts. You had seen his office on many occasions, it was to be expected really; full of dusty books and rolled up pieces of parchment. It always smelled distinctly of cedarwood and myrrh, a scent you had almost absolutely convinced yourself that it was Professor Snape himself who smelled of such. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t dwell much on the last few days, instead you would take this time for yourself. You wanted to be kind to yourself for once, to just be you. You weren’t looking forward to the quiet though, your life had never been quiet.

  You walked for what felt like miles, all the streets looked the same, each house identical. It was disorientating, the numbers screwed on to each door seemed to ascend and descend in whichever way they liked. You were about to give up and go back the way you came until a little white sign on the side of a house on the corner of the street caught your eye; it had an arrow pointing in the opposite direction with SPINNERS END  written across it. You breathed a sigh of relief and started off in the direction dictated by the sign. 69, 67, 65- it was 65 wasn’t it? You pulled the crumpled bit of paper Professor Snape left you from your pocket and looked from the words there, to the grey wooden door in front of you.

If you are in need, you need only knock

  You knocked once on the door, you heard a click of a lock from the inside and it swung open slowly. There it was again, that smell. It was almost overpowering as you took a hesitant step into the house. From what you could see, it was immaculately clean. You dropped your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and removed your heavy cloak from around your shoulders, hanging it over the bannister. The walls of the hallway were a dark green, but this didn’t surprise you. You would have been incredibly shocked it you had entered Professor Snape’s house and the walls had been painted magenta and mustard. You smirked at the idea and followed the hallway round to a room on the right, it looked like it should be a lounge. The walls were lined with books, every surface was littered with them too. There was a well-worn leather armchair in one corner with a drink’s cabinet close by. A table sat in the middle of the room and on the opposite side, a two-seat sofa. The leather of the sofa looked intact, like not a soul had ever sat on it. Whilst you knew that was near impossible, your heart ached for the lonely man who owned this house. Nobody should lead as solitary a life as this.

  You looked for a moment, long the lines and lines of books. Some looked to be incredibly old indeed, some without a dent in the hard spines. There were books in languages you didn’t know and some you recognised as classics in the muggle world. You ran your finger across the spines and sighed, you could imagine clearly that Professor Snape had read each and every one of them. You could see him in his chair, one leg crossed over the other- book in one hand and cigarette in the other. You smiled at the image you had created, you hoped he was happy here. You made your way out of the sitting room and back into the dark hallway, the stairs had a cupboard underneath them, the door painted the same green as the walls. You noticed a glimpse of the kitchen through a door which sat ajar, you pushed it open and stepped through. There were more books, many sat on the small dining table that sat in the corner. It was old, it reminded you pews at Hogwarts in its shape. The kitchen itself was cramped, although it had all the amenities one might expect, the claustrophobic closeness of the cupboards did nothing but remind you of the tiny kitchen in your flat. You walked over to the cupboards and opened them one by one, mugs and glasses, plates and bowls (four of each) and then one full of non-perishables. You laughed slightly at the tins of baked beans and scotch broth, a tin of rice pudding sat further forward on the shelf, as if picked out and then placed back.  

  You opened up a low cupboard next to the fridge and exhaled in relief at the sight of instant coffee, you pulled it out and unscrewed the lid. Giving the coffee a big sniff, you decided it was good enough to drink and sought to put the kettle on. After you had found the sugar and cutlery, you poured the contents of a tin of tomato soup into a pan and lit the cooker. Satisfied with your level of domesticity achieved, you placed your coffee and soup onto a tray and levitated it behind you into the sitting room. You scoured the books for something to read, and finally settled on a dusty black jacketed book called Dracula. The image of the author; a gentleman named Bram Stoker was still and aged, you could but assume this was a muggle book and you secretly relished in the simplicity of it. You settled into Professor Snape’s well-loved armchair and ate your soup quickly, quietly cursing when you burnt your tongue. You devoured the novel, your coffee forgotten until you squealed at the un-dead return of Lucy Westenra. You heart raced and you laughed, having fully immersed yourself in this novel. It was exhilarating. Your coffee was now cold as you brought it to your lips, and you yawned. It was dark outside now, but, in the deep December that could mean it was about five o’clock. Looking over your shoulders as if someone could catch you at any moment, you reached for the handle of the drink’s cabinet and marvelled at the assortment of alcohol stored within. You reached greedily for a bottle of port and padded into the kitchen for a glass, it was then you noticed a scrap of parchment next to the sink.

  (Y/N), it read in Professor Snape’s neat script,

Welcome, if you have decided to stay. I have left some muggle money on my desk in the second bedroom upstairs, along with an almanac of the values of it. There is some food in the cupboards, please feel free to help yourself to it. I am not expecting anybody to arrive, so please do not let anybody inside the house. I would be very much appreciative of that. You may write to me if you wish, I would like to know if you are there. Have a Merry Christmas.

Best,

Severus

  You raced up the narrow stairs of Professor Snape’s house, port and glass forgotten. The landing was small and had three doors that lead from there. One you assumed was the bathroom, you hoped it was as clean as the rest of the house. You continued to the next door along and opened it, Professor Snape’s personal study before you. You walked into the body of the room, absolutely in awe. He had enchanted the ceiling to reflect the night sky, the moon high above and stars twinkled through the heavy clouds. You stood for a moment and appreciated the craftmanship of this, it was silent in this room and the serenity of the night sky filled you with a sense of calm you hadn’t felt for the longest while. By the only window in the room sat his desk, it was surprisingly non-cluttered with minimal books. True to his note, there was an envelope marked Money. It was a curious thing, you peeked inside and found coins but also paper money too. What would muggles do if the paper money floated away? From the cursory glance you gave Professor Snape’s deconstruction of the value of each piece it seemed the paper money, or ‘notes’ as he called them were of greater value than the coins. But the coins together equalled the sum of notes. It was all very confusing, so you popped the envelope back on the desk and opened up the small drawer on top, thankful to find some parchment.

  The feel of Professor Snape’s quill in your hand was foreign and took some getting used to. You wrote two letters in total, one to Professor Snape to let him know you had arrived and to thank him again for his hospitality. He really had gone over and above what you had dared hope, and you sunk further into his debt. The other letter, was to George. Could it really only be a few hours since you had last seen him? You ignored the glassy state of your eyes as you sealed the letter and opened the window. A small silver whistle hung on a chain attached the inside of the sill, it had an owl in flight intricately engraved on the side. It was really quite beautiful, it glistened in the moonlight of the room and felt heavy in your hand. You brought the cold metal to your lips and blew once, but no sound came from the whistle. You looked desperately into the blackness of the street, the only light was the flickering streetlamp; only one was working and that one looked ready to be condemned. You noticed a speck in the distance, it grew bigger as it flew toward you. Your heart leapt at the sight of the black owl that fluttered its wings as it settled on the windowsill.   “This one first.” You instructed the owl as you offered the letter addressed to Professor Snape to it, it presented its leg and you fumbled in the drawers of Professor Snape’s desk for some string. “Fucking fuck fuck, where’s the fucking string?” You cursed, the owl gave an indignant hoot, and you made a face to it. Upon finding the string, you attached both letters to the owl’s legs and watched as it flew into the night.

  You trapsed back down the stairs and collected you dirty dishes and washed them in the sink. You yawned, fuck, you didn’t realise how tired you were until you caught your eyes closing of their own accord as you stood aimlessly in the kitchen. You collected your bag and made your way back up the stairs to the bathroom. You hadn’t expected a bachelor to take such good care of his home; the bathroom smelled strongly of bleach and the toilet was so clean you could’ve eaten your dinner off of it. No shower, you thought. Not a bit of wonder really, especially when you considered how old these houses were. You were thankful though, that Professor Snape must have charmed the brick somehow to keep the heat in, you wouldn’t even know where to start switching a radiator on. You decided against having a bath, it was far too late, and you didn’t fancy accidentally drowning to death as you inevitably fell asleep. You changed and popped your dirty clothes into the empty washing basket in the bathroom, making a mental note to write to Professor Snape and ask for instructions on how to use the washing machine. You felt a pang of loneliness as you walked across the empty landing, you and George never went to bed alone and you had missed his usual night-time burst of energy as you would get under the covers. It usually resulted in you making love for a few hours until you both passed out from exhaustion. No- you wouldn’t think about that.

  You pondered what to do. There was one bed. You hadn’t spared a second thought to the idea that Professor Snape had turned his second bedroom into a study, you cursed yourself as you stood in your knickers and stared at his wide bed. The bedding was black, of course and looked inviting in your sleepy state. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t appropriate for you to sleep in his bed, certainly not. You imagined how enraged he would be if he found out you had slept in his bed. But, he had let you stay here. Surely, he knew you would need to sleep? Maybe he thought you would have a sleeping bag, or even a blanket and you could sleep on the sofa that looked like it had never been sat on. You shook your head and chuckled, what a nightmare. Resigned, you pulled back the covers of Severus Snape’s bed and climbed in. You decided you would find your way to the town centre tomorrow and buy a pillow and a blanket and sleep on the sofa. But tonight, well one night wouldn’t hurt. You had imagined Professor Snape would sleep in a coffin, or perhaps a bed of nails in your youth. You hadn’t considered a large spongy bed, with brushed cotton sheets and pillows so soft your head could sink through them. The sheets smelled of freshly washed linen and you wondered if he had cleaned his house for you coming, you were grateful if he had and impressed if he hadn’t. Your eyes were heavy and closed almost instantly, you pulled the covers tight to your chest and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

********

  You were awoken by the sound of scratching. You opened your eyes and were confused for a moment why there wasn’t a sleeping redhead next to you. It had been three days since you had arrived in Spinner’s End and you felt almost at home now. You had a routine, you would wake up and have a bath, have some breakfast and read. You had managed to find the muggle supermarket and filled the cupboards full to burst. You often found yourself falling asleep in Professor Snape’s armchair. The evening would breach the windows of the living room, and you would drift away. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t particularly exciting either. You felt the same pang of loneliness you’d felt the night before as you sat slowly and sighed. The black owl tapped its beak impatiently on the bedroom window, you rose unsteadily and pulled a t-shirt out of your open bag. The owl didn’t wait for you to let it in as you opened the window, it swooped into the room and landed on the bed, kicking it’s legs, like you hadn’t already noticed the letters tied to it.   “I haven’t got any treats for you, sorry.” You said as you attempted to untie the letters, at least, if the owl stayed still for a second. You finally prised the letters away and the owl flew out the way it had come. The morning air was freezing, more snow had fallen in the night and the whole street was bathed in an eerily white blanket. There were a few children already out in the street, their parents scraping ice from the windows of their cars. People still need to work, you supposed, regardless of how close it was to Christmas. You closed the window and climbed back into bed, it was still warm under the covers and you settled in to read your letters.

(Y/N), the first one read.

Glad to hear you have settled in. Yes, you may help yourself to some of the drinks in the cabinet, but if you touch my Lagavulin with your grubby little hands, I shall know.

You snorted as you read that. You inched deeper into the bed, craving more warmth.

I’ll be in London for New Year, believe me, it’s as much an inconvenience to you as it is to me. So, whilst you are more than welcome to stay in my house, be prepared for my arrival on 31st December. If you wish to stay until then, I will require you to buy food. Please let me know what you decide to do well ahead of time.

Best,

Severus

That was the third time he had signed off by using Severus and not Professor Snape or Professor S. Snape, Head of Slytherin House Hogwarts, Potions Master, Surprisingly Nice Person as you had almost expected him to. So, he was coming back for New Year? Blanket and pillows were definitely on your agenda for the day. You picked up the other letter. You knew it was from George and you felt a sinking feeling in your gut as you fingered the envelope. You weren’t really expecting a reply, you told him you had arrived safe and you’d write him again soon. You weren’t sure what in the letter you sent actually required a response.

My darling, George wrote.

I’m chuffed to hear you’ve settled in wherever you are. I’d like to think you’re being looked after, but I know you don’t need anyone to look after you. I really miss you, gorgeous. I know there’s not much I can say that I didn’t already say yesterday, but I would have felt like an absolute git if I didn’t tell you again. I’m not going to ask you to come home if you’re not ready, but I wanted to let you know that me and Fred are heading to mum’s for Christmas. Couldn’t quite face it in the flat without you. So, if you decide you want to come home for Christmas, you know where we are. I love you, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to show you that.

All my love forever, George xxx

P.S. I noticed you didn’t take any of your tampons with you, just say the word and I’ll send them to you. Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, love x

  You shot out of bed like a rocket. Your tampons? Oh fuck. You raced across the landing to the loo and as you sat down, you saw the same sight that had been staring you in the face for weeks.

Nothing. Nothing in your knickers.

You were late. More than late, it had been far more than a week ago since you were due on and yet, with all the stress of the last few days you had forgotten all about it. You sank onto the bathroom floor and cried. Big, mournful tears and sobs that wracked your whole chest. This couldn’t be, this wasn’t to be your life. With a sniff of resolution, you stood from the floor and looked at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t realised how haggard you looked. There were dark circled under your eyes and your face was pale and gaunt. You ran a finger across your cheek and felt the hardness of your cheekbone that jutted out further than it ever had before. Merlin, you were far too young for any of this. In the year that you had spent being George’s girlfriend you had had more strife than you could have possibly imagined. Quite frankly, you thought, you had taken it like a champ. But this just seemed one ordeal too far. You were alone, alone and hiding in Severus fucking Snape’s house from your boyfriend. No family, no friends, nothing.  No, no more.

******

  You hadn’t been to this part of London before. You were quite shocked when she suggested meeting you here, you hadn’t anticipated she was one for the theatre. As you stared up at Her Majesty’s Theatre, the bright still photographs of the show stared back at you. A woman, with long curly hair in a pink dress seemed frightened as a masked man with dark hair loomed behind her. What utter drivel you thought, who would pay money to see this? You rubbed your hands together, now significantly warmer with your new gloves you had bought on your way into London; and scoured the busy street for her. You were starting to think she wasn’t coming when you saw an emerald green cape swish in your periphery.   “There you are! Merlin, I was beginning it think you were taking the piss out of me.” You said as you wrapped her into a warm hug.   “Never,” Pansy smirked, she pulled away from you and gazed intently at your face. “You look terrible mate.”   “Thank you dear, you are nothing if not horrendously honest.” You looked at Pansy with a sly smirk. It felt so wonderful to see her again, her arm entwined easily with yours as you started back toward Leicester Square. “Why did you want to meet in front of that theatre?” You asked.   “Oh, I saw the show last week with my parents and it’s an easy location, tucked out the way a bit yet still in central London.” Pansy seemed to have blossomed in the time since you had last seen her. her hair had grown long and glossy, and she was pretty, very pretty.   “You? You saw a musical?” You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed you playfully.   “Don’t judge unless you’ve seen one yourself. The music is to die for.” She smirked and lead you up a busy street. “Do you want to look at the Christmas Markets?” Pansy asked as she picked up a bauble from a nearby stall and inspected it. You wondered if it was a mistake to meet in such a crowded place so close to Christmas but, as she had reminded you, less chance of bumping into somebody you know.   “Actually Pans, I need to talk to you.” You replied, she nodded and lead you across the square to a café, all of the tables were either taken or dirty. You both looked over your shoulders as you pointed your wand at a table in the corner and the dirty mugs and plates stacked and ended up on the next table over. “What do you want? I have muggle money.” You said as you reached into your purse and pulled out one of the paper notes; you remembered they were worth more than the coins. Pansy looked from the paper note in your hand and to your face and burst out laughing. “What?!” You demanded. Onlookers from other tables began to stare in your direction as Pansy doubled over laughing.   “Oh, fucking hell, (Y/N). You are so clueless.” She managed through her giggles. “You’re going to pay for two coffees with a fifty-pound note?”   “Is that wrong?” You asked bewildered, surely it was right to take the biggest one?   “Merlin, just put that back in your purse before someone steals it out of your hand and I’ll get the coffees.” Pansy replied, you could see her shoulders still bobbing up and down with laughter even as she queued for your drinks. You couldn’t help but smile too, it had been so long since you had seen her last, too long.

  Pansy ended up taking longer than you anticipated ordering drinks. Your stomach began to rumble, and you felt sick. You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, you needed to speak to Pansy about the situation. You had nobody else to turn to. You stared aimlessly out of the window at the last- minute Christmas shoppers frantically move from shop to shop. You wondered if George would have taken the things you had bought for his family back to the shops, or if he would have wrapped them terribly and dished them out. You cringed at the idea of Molly seeing George’s wrapping and thinking it was yours. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of gold and a suitcase whizz pass the window. Your heart raced as you made eye contact with him, Mundungus Fletcher. Behind him he pulled a trolley you saw old ladies carry their shopping in full of tat. He raised a ringed hand up and waved at you through the glass, a sneer fixed on his stupid face. You reached for your wand, but he was too fast, he weaved through the crowd and was gone. You searched for him wildly with your eyes, you craned your neck to try and see further, but it was no use. He had disappeared as quickly as he appeared. You tried to quell the hatred that bubbled under your skin and took a deep breath.   “Who was that?” Pansy asked as she set a tray on the table. She passed you your coffee and a slice of cake and put the tray on the floor.   “Nobody.” You muttered. You thanked her and took a sip, you grimaced as you swallowed it. Muggle coffee was terrible, watery and bland. It made you long for home, the kitchen staff at your parent’s house were always at the top of their game. It had spoiled you really, you had made such an effort to learn how to do everything yourself. You wouldn’t be one of them. You refused.   “What did you want to talk about?” Pansy said as she shovelled a forkful of cake into her mouth. You bit your lip; you didn’t know how to say it. “Oi, you haven’t dragged me all the way to London just for a coffee so talk.”   “I’m late.”   “What do you mean?”   “My period’s late.”

  Pansy’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth; her eyes wide with shock. You tapped on the table nervously and glanced over your shoulder. You would be mortified if you found yourself in another situation like the one of the last few days.   “How long?”   “Nearly two weeks now that I think about it.”   “Shit.”   “What do I do, Pansy?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you watched your friends face flit between emotions. Pansy’s usually stern face softened, she ran a hand over her beautifully quaffed hair and sighed.   “Have you been to St. Mungo’s?” She asked, you shook your head.   “I didn’t know I had to. I only realised this morning and that’s when I wrote you straight away.”    “Right, okay. So, first thing you need to do is go to St. Mungo’s, you’ll see a mediwitch and they’ll make you drink a potion to see if you’re…pregnant or not.” She whispered, you nodded tearfully.   “Is that it? I just need to go to St. Mungo’s?”   “Well, you need to make an appointment first. Only-” She stopped short, she frowned, and her brow furrowed.   “Only?” You prompted.   “Only, it’s the day before Christmas Eve (Y/N). They’ll be no appointments until after the New Year, I’m sure.”   “Is it the 23rd already?” You asked, “Fuck me, I didn’t realise.” You paused. “So I have to wait?” Pansy nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cake. She pondered for a second before she sat up straight in her chair.   “Unless…”   “Unless?” You asked, you were growing impatient.   “There is the old-fashioned way of finding out. The muggle way, it’s just as effective. My sister had to do it before she was of age and she had it off with one of the Black cousins.”   “Which is?”

******

  You shifted your weight uneasily from foot to foot. You were in Piccadilly Circus waiting outside of a, you think Pansy called it a chemist? She didn’t trust you to not have a breakdown in the middle of a muggle pharmacy so left you to wait outside. It was bitterly cold and the snow had begun to fall harder than before. You watched as muggle pedestrians tried to weather their way through the flurry. How had it gotten to be the 23rd of December without you noticing? How had you let yourself not notice that your period was late? Very, very late, you cursed. You couldn’t help but be slightly angry at Fred and George, you had worked your fingers to the bone over the last few weeks to make sure the sop was stocked to the brim ready for Christmas. You had been exhausted, and still found time to cook and clean for the boys too. No, stop that, you thought. You were just irritable and nervous. You weren’t angry at the boys; you loved the boys; and were so proud of everything they had achieved in such a small space of time. Its natural to have bumps in the road, you just hoped there wouldn’t be a bump of another kind making an appearance.

  You shook your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts. It was no use to anyone to berate yourself, you placed a hesitant hand on your stomach. You prayed silently to Merlin, to anybody that could possibly hear you. You whispered the words over and over again in your mind, please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be-   “Got it!” Pansy thrust a plastic bag in your direction, followed by a handful of coins. You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Your change,” she announced and placed the money in your hand. “Merlin, you know absolutely nothing do you.” You offered her a tight-lipped smile as she linked her arm with yours and you hurried away from the pulsing crowd.   “Right, let’s go to your flat and get this over with.” Pansy stated, she pointed to the designated apparation point and looked at you expectantly. The thought of going into an empty flat filled you with a dread that quickly turned to sickness, a bile that rose in your throat. You shook your head and slumped against the wall behind you.   “I can’t Pans, I can’t go back there now. Not today, I’m not ready.” You muttered, your hair fell into your face and shielded it from Pansy’s view. You felt Pansy put an arm around her shoulders. She pulled you close to her and enveloped you in a hug. The tears you had been holding in since you left Severus’ (could you even call him that now?) house fell from your heavy eyes as you clutched to your friend for dear life. She rubbed your back and swayed you from side to side.   “That’s okay, we don’t have to go there. Let’s just go to where you’re staying.”   “I can’t take you there either!” You laughed through your tears, Pansy laughed too and brushed her thumb across your cheek.   “Fucking hell, you truly are off grid, aren’t you? Don’t do break-ups by half.”   “We haven’t broken up, Pansy. I just needed some time away. I haven’t been on my own since…since-”   “Shh. I know, I know. I was just winding you up.” She pushed you back gently and held you at arm’s length. “Now stop crying please, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You laughed again and smiled weakly at her. You exhaled deeply and nodded. You needed to pull up your big girl pants and be an adult.   “I’ll owl you as soon as I know.” You said, Pansy’s face fell into a look of concern as you took a step back from her.   “Have I not shown you, you can trust me, (Y/N)?” She replied, she looked hurt and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.   “Yes, of course you have, Pansy. I just- I need to do this alone.” Pansy sniffed in indifference and crossed her arms over her chest. You felt instantly guilty, you loathed to upset your friend, especially when she had gone above and beyond for you; but you needed to do this by yourself.   “Fine. But you should let George know, it’s as much his concern as it is yours.” Pansy said stiffly before she turned away from you and disapparated with a small pop!

  You were still for a moment. The snow had turned to sleet and it seemed to soak you through to your very bones as you stood. How had everything turned into such a mess in such a small space of time? Of course, Pansy was right, you needed to tell George. He had a right to know what was going on as anybody else and another feeling of guilt flooded over your already aching chest.

******

  Desdemona was waiting patiently on a streetlamp as you approached Severus’ house. She let out an almighty hoot as you spotted her in the encroaching darkness, she flew quicky from her porch and nearly into your face.   “Bloody stupid bird,” You muttered as you extended an arm. Desdemona landed roughly; her talons pinched your skin under your winter coat as she offered the letter in her beak. Your heart sank as you took it, it could only be from your parents. “I don’t have anything for you. Go home.” You ordered her, if you didn’t know any better you could have sworn she rolled her eyes before she took off into the sky. You watched her fly for as far as you could see her, her tawny features hard to make out after a while. With a groan, you let yourself in to the house.

  You settled in Severus’ armchair and kicked your shoes off. The letter from your parents held tightly in your hand, it felt heavy and you were anxious yet reluctant to find out what it said. You sank lower into the comfortable leather and brought your knees to your chest and teased open the envelope. It wasn’t a howler, that was for certain. A smaller envelope dropped out of the initial one, and a folded piece of parchment landed on your lap. Ignoring the small envelope, you picked up the note and noticed immediately it was written in your father’s hand.

Daughter,

I understand you have moved to Diagon Alley with your partner; congratulations, I’m pleased you have found happiness. I must admit, this is to be a strange Christmas without you here with us. I will leave your stocking above the fireplace like always. I wish for you to understand that you are always welcome here, this is your home. I am your father. You will always be my little girl. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

Enclosed you will find your Christmas present; your mother gave her blessing for me to send it to you.

Merry Christmas, my darling.

You clutched the letter to your chest as you sobbed. You traced your finger over your father’s words, as if you could touch him through the parchment. You missed him more than words could say, you hadn’t anticipated how much so. In the time that had elapsed since you had last seen him, it was easy to forget the good things, the best things about your father; instead remembering him as the distant man who told you to run instead of protecting you. But he had, from the coldness of your mother, from the sneering remarks of the other noble families as a child and finally from your torment as you sat alone at Christmas.

  You padded solemnly into the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of port and the glass tumbler you had set out the night before. You poured yourself a healthy measure and as you brought the glass to your lips, you stopped. You remembered the white plastic bag you had flung on the floor at the bottom of the stairs when you arrived back, your stomach gurgled, and you bit your lip. What were you to do? Well, you knew exactly what you should do. You should write to George immediately, or better yet, go straight to The Burrow and you could do this together but- there was a part of you that felt that if you were to go to him now, you would be conceding. You would be letting yourself down. You hadn’t run straight into George’s arms the minute Mundungus’ plot was uncovered, if you were to go back now after two nights away from him would make you look weak. You demanded space, you demanded time to think and get away; you deserved it! George had to understand that he had hurt you immeasurably and not everything could be solved by a kiss and a cuddle.

  Regardless, if it turned out you weren’t pregnant then what would have been the need? You would have gone back to him at the first sign of trouble like always, and you weren’t prepared to it this time. If you were pregnant then yes, you would go to him. You would sit down and have an adult conversation over what to do next; but if you weren’t? You could perhaps enjoy this time to yourself before you returned to him. Before you decided what it was exactly you were to say to him. The layers of guilt that had so far weighed heavy on your chest eased slightly, your affirmations to yourself that this was the right thing to do, seemed to have assuaged you some. It was time, you knew it was. It was now or never, and it was most certainly, now.

  You read and re-read the instructions on the side of the box as you sat on the toilet. Your hand trembled as it held the little white stick, you parted your legs and pushed your hand between them; no idea if the stick was in the right position. When you were satisfied that you had done what you needed to, you pulled the stick away and popped the little blue cap on the used end. The box said it would take two minutes to give you a result, so with that, after thoroughly washing your hands, you returned to the living room. You placed the ‘test’ (it was most unlike any test you had ever taken in your life thus far) on the table face down, so you couldn’t see the little window and picked Dracula up from its perch on the nearby shelf. It was then that you noticed the small envelope your father had sent on the arm of the chair. You opened it gently, unsure of what it could be. Onto your lap fell an incredibly delicate silver choker encrusted with brilliant emeralds and littered with small diamonds, given to your mother when your grandmother died. You lifted it to the light and watched how the jewels caught the light. This piece of jewellery had been in your family for generations, You had admired it since you were a little girl, it had sat pride of place around your mother’s neck for special occasions, and you had tried it on- once or twice. Your mother would have been furious if she had found out. Your heart swelled with pride as you traced your fingers lovingly across it, that your mother wanted you to have it. Progress perhaps?

  A thunderous banging on the front door caused you to yelp in fear. You reached into the pocket of your jeans and produced your wand, you waved it frantically across the room and with a puff, all the candles were extinguished. You were plunged into darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you inched slowly out of the living room; wand raised- you weren’t sure what use it would be in the dark, but you refused to cast a Lumos. Severus had said he wasn’t expecting anyone at the house, and to not let anybody inside. You swallowed your fear and allowed yourself a second to think. The only people who would know what this house was, would either be one of two kinds. Muggles, probably drunk, banging on the wrong door or the darker alternative. The one you hoped to Merlin it wasn’t. The banging recommenced as you entered the hallway, you flinched at the sound but continued in your progress toward the front door. The early evening had well given way to night, and the only thing you could make out through the panes of glass in the door, was the shadowy figure that once again brought its hand up to bang against the wood. You crept silently along the hallway, with each step your pulse quickened as with trembling hand, you slowly reached for the catch. You felt a trickle of sweat run down your neck as you clasped the metal knob and turned it ever so slightly, you aimed to open the catch and fling the door open to the surprise of the intruder. You hoped to catch them off guard. As soon as you heard the click of the door, you flung it open.   “Stupefy!” You exclaimed, but he was faster.   “Expelliarmus.” Your wand flew from your hand and landed in his, bloodied and shaking. You blinked, unmoving as he reached for you. His other hand grasped onto your shirt as he tried to stand up straight. You recoiled backwards; it was instinctual. You noticed the hand which held fast onto the front of your shirt was also drenched in blood.   “Don’t scream.” He breathed, “Don’t scream, just…help…me inside.” You managed to nod and grasp him under his arm, as with the other he left bloody handprints along the wall. He kicked the door closed behind him as you helped him into the lounge, and with a big heave, assisted him to the sofa. “Why…is it so…dark?”

  In a second, every candle was lit, and you were able to get a good look at his face.   “What happened to you, Severus?” You asked horrified, he had a large gash on his cheek that bled freely. He clutched his side, and you noticed a flash of skin underneath his hands, he was wounded, badly. Bleeding profusely, what the fuck do you do? “Tell me what to do.”   “Dittany.” Severus whispered, “Cupboard in…bathroom.” You raced from the lounge up the stairs as fast as your feet could carry you, you wrenched open the bathroom cupboard and frantically searched for Essence of Dittany. You noticed that your hands were also covered in blood, his blood as you twisted and turned every bottle until you clasped your hand around the brown bottle.   “Give it to me.” Severus said weakly, he reached for the bottle, but you shook your head.   “No, you can’t-”   “I didn’t ask for…your opinion witch, give…me the…bottle.” He wheezed through gritted teeth, his face was a mass of blood now, like he had somehow tried to quell the bleeding but had somehow made it worse. You hesitated for a moment before you handed the bottle to him. He reached forward with a surprisingly steady hand and applied three drops to his cheek, his face contorted in pain as a small puff of green smoke rose around him. He winced as he tried to sit up, “Help me,” was all he said. Again, you supported his arm and helped right him. “My coat, I can’t reach-” You reached for his buttons and swiftly tried to undo them, he writhed beneath you, obviously in a copious amount of pain.   “Sorry!” You breathed as you reached his midsection, you could see clearly now the wound on his side. It looked as if he had been sliced, the blood was thick and dark as it oozed out of him. Tears stung your eyes as you panicked, you felt so very overwhelmed and with no idea how to help him. You tried to gently manoeuvre his arms through his sleeves, his jaw clenched and with two tugs, you managed it. He pulled his shirt up to his chest and granted you a look at how thin he was. You almost cringed at the sight of every rib in the poor man’s body, his stomach and what you could see of his chest were absolutely littered with scars; some old, some new.   “You will have to help…with this one.” Severus said, he looked better, if that was possible. The wound on his cheek shone purple, as if it had been there all along. The only tell-tale sign was the blood beginning to dry there. You rolled him onto his side and took the bottle from his hands, opening it quickly. You placed a gentle hand above his wound, just to the side of where his ribs jutted out. Severus flinched one and then relaxed as you tenderly brushed your fingers against his skin.   “Ready?” You asked, he gave a curt nod and you applied four drops of the Dittany across his wound. Severus, to his credit, let out a groan of pain whilst his whole body shook under the strain of new skin closing the wound. The puff of smoke was larger this time, you held your breath as it passed over your face. You held him in place until his breathing slowed, he looked at you askance and motioned to be helped up. “Do you want some water?” You asked as you pulled his shirt back down, covering him up. Severus shook his head.   “Whisky.” You rolled your eyes but knew better than to argue with him. You stood and brushed your hands against your jeans, you were sticky with his blood and felt uncomfortable. You hurried over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of the amber liquid. Severus held his hand open and you passed him the bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought it to his lips.  

  You watched him as he took sip after sip of the whisky, the colour eventually returned to his cheeks and you felt satisfied to leave him for a moment. You wandered into the kitchen and doused your hands with soap, scrubbing them hard to remove the blood. You fought back tears as the image of Severus writhing in pain engrained itself into your mind. You had never seen so much blood in your life and shuddered as you remembered the smell of the smoke as his skin knit together. You found him asleep on the sofa as you entered, bottle tipped to the side and his face peaceful. Carefully, you slipped his shoes from his feet and propped his legs up onto the sofa. Your wands lay together on the floor, you retrieved yours and Accio’d his duvet and a pillow, laying the latter under his head as you covered him in the blanket.

  You retrieved your cloak and settled into the armchair, you pulled it up to your chin and hooked your legs over one of the arms. It wasn’t comfortable, not in the slightest, but you couldn’t justify leaving him in his state. Your hand closed around your wand and pressed it against your chest, ready, just in case. For what- you didn’t know.

******

  “Sleep well?”

  You awoke with a start. Severus sat across the room from you, he was upright on the sofa. He still looked weak, but his eyes sparkled with humour.   “Like the dead.” You offered feebly; you arched your back; oh, fuck it was agony. You winced and Severus chuckled, your neck was stiff as you craned it to look at him.   “Nice choice of words.” You grimaced as you swung your legs onto the floor and ran your hands through your hair. You were surprised to feel the ends were dried red. Oh, of course. You shuddered as a fleeting image of the previous night’s bloody work crossed your thoughts. Brushing it off, you stood. “Coffee?”   “Please.” He answered, he looked more tired than you had ever seen as he watched you lazily. You returned a few moments later with two mugs of coffee, his black obviously, Severus nodded in thanks. You drank in silence, neither of you looking at the other. After a while, you stood without speaking. You felt disgusting, you were covered almost head to toe in Severus’ blood, although you had scrubbed at your hands- you hadn’t realised how messy it had been.

  You allowed yourself to cry in the bath. The water was hot and as you sank beneath the surface, you felt pathetic. You sobbed, more than you had in days. Your throat hurt and your eyes were swollen. Your heart hurt, why? Were you scared? Scared that someone might come after Severus and you would be caught in the crossfire? Or guilty that the man who had shown you so much kindness had been so dreadfully hurt and you hesitated in answering the door.

  He was sat in the same position that he had been in when you left him. He didn’t look like he had moved a muscle.   “Are you in pain?” You asked quietly, you felt stupid asking him stood in your Christmas pyjamas, but you were quickly running out of clean clothes.   “Immensely,” Severus answered wryly, he pointed at the coffee table. “What’s that?” Your gaze followed the direction of his pointed finger and your stomach fell.   “Nothing. Don’t worry.” You replied quickly, you snatched the pregnancy test and thrust it into the pocket of your pyjama bottoms. How the fuck had you forgotten about that? Your heart raced; you could know. You could know now, all you had to was look at the little window and it would tell you all you needed to know.  “Is that a pregnancy test?” Severus asked, the whisper of a smile tugged at his lips as you blushed.   “No.” You lied, why would he know what a pregnancy test looked like anyway? Especially a muggle one. Severus shook his head.   “If you say so.” He paused and watched you, your hair dripped big, wet droplets onto your shoulders. “Bring me some parchment and a quill, I need to write a letter.”   “Do you not think you should rest?” His face was aghast as you questioned him, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze.   “I promise not to exert myself too much moving my wrist.” You gave him a look of annoyance as he made a gesture as if he were writing. You rolled your eyes again, he chuckled once and then grasped his side in pain. Good, that serves him right for being a dick. You smirked to yourself as you retrieved parchment and a quill along with the silver whistle and thrust them into his hands.   “Would you like something to eat?” You watched him as, even with the sheer amount of pain he was in, his hand was steady as he wrote fluidly across the page. Severus ignored you as he continued to write. You sat in the armchair and watched him for several minutes, you noticed he brought the feathery tip of his quill to his lips every once in a while, in thought. It was almost hypnotic, watching his hand glide across the parchment, the only sound the scratching of his quill.

  The test in your pocket burned with anticipation. You reached for it deftly, careful not to make any sudden movements so as not to disturb Severus. Your fingers grasped it and pulled it out slowly, you shot a glance in his direction, satisfied that his attention was firmly placed upon his writing. You turned it over and…nothing. You panicked and turned it over, upside down and back to front. The little window that displayed the result was empty- no lines.   “Did you not read the instructions?” Severus called from the other side of the room. You gave him an uneasy look. “It quite clearly states that results disappear after twelve hours.” He hadn’t even looked up from his parchment, or so it seemed. You raced from the living room to the bathroom and plunged your hands into the wastebin in search for the box. He was right, of course he was right. Why wouldn’t he be right? You felt the blood drain from your cheeks as you slowly made your way back down the stairs.   “Idiot.” Severus mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear as you paced the length of the room. What were you to do now? It was Christmas Eve; you couldn’t face going back into the crowds. “I need you to take this to The Leaky Cauldron.” Severus’ deep baritone distracted you from your thoughts as he passed the parchment he had been writing on in your direction. You rose from your chair to take it from him, he had closed it in on itself over and over again until it appeared miniscule in your hand. Some kind of enchantment to dissuade the prying eyes of those unintended to read it, you supposed.     “What is it?” You enquired, turning it over in your fingers. Severus motioned you forward and held his arms out to you.   “You don’t need to know. Help me up.” Severus muttered and as you placed your arms around his back, your chests flush together; you blushed at the close proximity. He placed his hands onto your shoulders and supported himself to a standing position. “I need to go to the toilet.” He took two steps and swayed, he grasped hold of your arm to steady yourself.   “I can apparate us upstairs, Severus.” You stated, he grimaced and placed your arm under his.   “No, I’ll be sick. Help me and I might be able to help you with your problem.” He gave you a strained smirk and you nodded. You wondered what he could mean as you slowly supported him up the narrow staircase. You waited awkwardly outside of the door for a moment while he relieved himself, you accio’d his duvet and pillow and returned them to his bedroom, taking care to clear up the clothes you had scattered around the floor. When he emerged from the bathroom, you noticed his face was wet. He had attempted to wash his face rather unsuccessfully and you suppressed a laugh. You helped him into bed and pulled the covers over him, he seemed to relax under your care; letting you wipe a warm flannel across his face to remove the stains of his blood and hummed contentedly.   “You can do the rest yourself,” you announced. He opened his eyes and regarded you, “You can piss off if you think I’m going to give you a bath.” He laughed at this, a real smile appeared on his face and you smiled back, it was nice to see.   “Agreed. I can manage for now.” He sighed, “How late are your courses?”   “My courses?” You looked at him quizzically, Severus grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose.   “Your period, (Y/N). How late?” You blushed again and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, he looked at you expectantly as if he had asked you a question about the ingredients of a potion.   “Two weeks.” You answered, Severus nodded slowly and looked to the ceiling as if in thought.   “Yes, I think I shall be able to help you. Let me sleep for a while, deliver that letter for me and when you come back, we can eat, and we shall get to the bottom of this.” You sighed; you really didn’t want to go back to The Leaky Cauldron.  “Who shall I give it to?”   “Give it to Tom, he’ll see it gets where it needs to go.” Severus replied, his eyes closed again.   “Am I to say who it’s from?” Severus opened one eye and gave you a dark look, he wet his lips and frowned.   “Obviously.”

*******

  You hesitated before pushing open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, it was midday, and the pub was filled yet again with people making merry. You fought your way to the bar and waited to catch the attention of the young witch behind it, your neck craned in each direction to catch a glimpse of her. She appeared finally, two large trays of glasses hovering behind her as she began to rearrange the glassware behind the bar.   “Excuse me!” You said as you waved your hand, she noticed you and gave you a smile.   “Oh, hiya!” She said warmly, “Can I get you a drink?”   “No thank you,” You replied, “Is Tom available?”   “He certainly is,” A voice behind you said, you whirled round to be met with Tom’s smiling face. “Can I help you, miss?”   “Yes actually, I was told to give you this.” You showed him the tiny piece of folded parchment, Tom’s eyes flashed from it to yours and gave you a concerned look.   “Is this from…”   “Severus Snape, yes. He told me you’d know what to do with it.” You levelled, he took it from your hand and placed it into the pocket of his shirt.   “I assume there must be a reason why he sent you and not delivered it himself.” Tom replied with a raised eyebrow, you refused to let your mind wander to the events from the night before.   “Yes, but it’s not for me to say so- can I leave it with you?”   “Of course, I’ll see to it that everything is in order, tell him.” Tom replied, “Merry Christmas, miss.”   “Merry Christmas, Tom.” You watched as he withdrew into the crowd, you turned to the witch behind the bar. “Merry Christmas.” You smiled, she offered you a grin in return and waved her hand.   “Merry Christmas.” She replied cheerfully.

  You didn’t want to go into Diagon Alley, but your feet carried you over the cobbled stones to the dismay of your heart. Despite the growing tensions in the wizarding world, the wonky street was abuzz with people; not unlike the shoppers you had seen in Piccadilly Circus with Pansy. There was a long queue outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and you smiled sadly as you approached the window. The display you had spent so long working on looked magnificent, snow fell from behind the glass and tiny enchanted swans swam in a small lake, surrounded by miniature fur trees and families of deer.     “Penny for your thoughts?” You noticed Fred’s reflection in the glass appear next to you. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly.   “I thought you’d still be at The Burrow!” You exclaimed, he laughed and hugged you back. You pulled away and looked into his face, he looked well and cheerful. You had learned the differences between him and George over time, subtle though they were.   “Well somebody’s got to be here to run the shop,” Fred said as he gestured to the busy building, “I’m going back tonight.” You nodded in understanding and he placed your hand in the crook of his arm. “Fancy a walk?”

  Fred led you passed the bustle of the shops and back towards the apparation point.   “You okay, Freddie?”   “Yeah yeah,” He answered quietly, it must be difficult for him to see you- to know what had transpired between you and George. “Look, I don’t want to bombard you with questions or anything, (Y/N). But I need to know; is that you and George done? You left things so up in the air with him, and he’s putting on a brave face don’t get me wrong but…he’s my brother, and I can tell he’s hurting.” You bit your bottom lip, you hated to think about George in pain; but you just weren’t ready to talk about things.   “No, Fred. We’re not done…but he really hurt me, he said some awful things to me; accused me of terrible things and it’s going to take some time for me to be ready to have a conversation about it. Let alone forgive him.” You paused and wiped away a tear that fell onto your cheek. “I suppose I just never expected he could be like that. It surprised me.”   “Bloody surprised us all mate. When George came flying down to the shop floor after you left, ranting and raving- I’d never seen that side of him before. And Merlin, when Snape arrived at mum’s with Mundungus Fletcher, I thought he would wind up with a wand suspension the way he was trying to hex Mundungus.” Fred exhaled with a small laugh, you matched it with a smile. “He’s a good bloke, (Y/N). You mean everything to him. Believe me, I’ve had to share a room with him for the best part of two decades. If you’re not ready to talk about anything, can I at least tell him I saw you today and what you said? I’m sure it’ll make him feel loads better if he knew you hadn’t, you know, broken up with him without him realising.” You considered it for a moment, if Fred told George he had seen you today; it might make him want to find you. He had really respected your space so far and you were grateful for it, but the thought of making Fred keep something like this from his brother was too big of an ask. Plus, you were also keeping a huge secret from him, but you couldn’t tell Fred before you told George- it wasn’t right.   “Yeah, of course, Freddie. Tell him, you can also tell him Merry Christmas and that…I love him.” Fred made a gagging noise and you smacked him on the arm. “I need to go.” You pulled Fred in for one last hug and squeezed enough for him and George. He chuckled as you walked to the apparation point and gave him a big wave goodbye.

*******

  Severus stayed upstairs all afternoon and well into the evening. You couldn’t blame him though, it looked as though he had been through a massive ordeal and he needed time to recover, you couldn’t begrudge him that. You found a magical cooking book in one of the cupboards and coupled with some of the food you had bought at the supermarket, you managed to cook a reasonably tasty meal. Severus made comments about the quality of the steak, but you expected nothing less. You suspected it was only to save face though, as twice when he thought you weren’t looking, you saw him close his eyes and savour the taste of the food. You had served him in his meal in bed, he had managed to prop himself up on the pillows and you sat at the foot of the bed. It seemed quite personal really, but you found yourself savouring the intimate moments you shared with him. It made you feel like he did actually care for you, as more than an ex pupil, as a friend. He asked you about The Leaky Cauldron, who you spoke to, how you got home. After a moment, you felt brave.   “Who did this to you, Severus?” Severus sighed and passed his empty plate over to you.   “Nobody.”   “I find that extremely hard to believe. I need to know if I’m in danger.” You asked him earnestly, he met your gaze with a softness you seldom saw from the man.   “You’re in no more danger now than you have been in the last three days. Please don’t concern yourself with my welfare.” He answered, you suspected he intended to seem sterner than he came across. You wondered if he couldn’t muster the energy to chastise you.   “It’s a bit difficult to do that when I have to take you to the loo every time you want a piss.”   “You’re vile.”     “Pot, kettle, black. I found your blood in my ear this morning. That’s vile.” You laughed and he managed a laugh too. “I’m just glad I was here when you arrived last night.”   “Whether you were here or not, I would have gotten inside one way or another.” He levelled nonchalantly.   “Would it really be so horrendous to just say ‘thank you’?” You let out an exasperated sigh and flopped backwards on the bed. He eyed you with annoyance, but you could tell it was fleeting.   “Yes, actually. For me anyway.”     “Well I’m not surprised. You’re just annoyed I’m working off my debt to you.” You winked and rolled from the bed, you picked up your used plates and took them downstairs.

    You returned when he called for you. You held two glasses of port in your hands and found him in his study.   “When did you get in here?” You asked with a smile, pleased to see him on his feet, if not slightly unsteady.   “I am an enigma of a man, (Y/N). I wouldn’t expect your tiny brain to even begin to comprehend me.” Severus answered with a smirk, you passed him the glass and he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. “Delicious.” It was then you noticed the cauldron bubbling contentedly on his desk. You wandered over to it and inspected the shimmering, iridescent silver liquid, it smelled foul; like rotten eggs and you recoiled.   “What the fuck is that?” You demanded as you covered your nose. Severus had his back to you; he ran a finger along one of the shelves which held bottles of all shapes and sizes and plucked a large green bottle with a jade lid. You watched as he carefully unscrewed the top and dropped a tiny drop of the liquid onto a sprig of lavender. The flowers wilted instantly, and he dropped the whole thing into the cauldron. A great lilac cloud erupted from the cauldron and dissipated as Severus waved his hand.   “This, (Y/N) is a pregnancy test.” Severus replied with a satisfied smile. He beckoned you over to the desk and you sighed as the smell had gotten progressively worse with the addition of the lavender. The liquid had changed from its silver to a dark burgundy, it still held its iridescence as it bubbled.   “Is this what they use in St. Mungo’s?”   “Merlin no, they use a potion so convoluted there you could have had the baby by the time you receive an answer.” Severus sniffed, “This is Enfantin Inventim, it’s old. Really, very old. They stopped using this in everyday practise about three hundred years ago. It’s notoriously difficult to prepare and can often lead to an incorrect result.”   “Should we use it then? If it can give an incorrect result?” You asked anxiously, the last thing you needed was to wait another day. You needed to get on with your life, one way or the other.   “Do you think I would prepare something that would achieve anything other than one-hundred-percent accuracy?” Severus snapped. He had a point; he was a potions master for a reason.   “Okay, what do I do?”   “It isn’t pleasant, (Y/N). Do you trust me?” You considered it for a moment and then nodded, he offered his hand to you, you took it and he pulled you towards him forcefully. Severus winced with the effort and forced your hand open. He quickly drew a pearl-encrusted dagger across the length of your palm, easily opening the flesh. You howled in pain and tried to pull your hand back, Severus clasped it into a fist and squeezed tightly. Blood began to fall from you hand and he brought it over the cauldron, the potion drank your blood hungrily and after you parted with ten drops, the potion began to cloud over.  

  “Stand back.” He commanded, he gave you a scrap of cloth and you pressed it hard into the palm of your hand. “If the liquid turns white, you’re pregnant. If it turns black, you’re in the clear.”   “How long do we have to wait?” You whispered and closed your eyes.   “Not long.” In that moment, you wished George were by your side. He would know exactly what to say, and even if he didn’t, he would make you laugh. You imagined his hand around your waist and his lips pressed to your head in a gentle kiss.   “Severus. If I am…you know. What do I do?”   “I imagine what women have done for a millennia-”   “No, what I mean is-” You paused, unsure of how he would react. “Do I have a- do I have a choice?”   “Of course you have a choice. I can put you in contact with some discreet mediwitches. They’re friendly and would have you sorted in no time.” “Okay.”

  You waited for what seemed an age. You tended to your wounded hand and shot a scowl in Severus’ direction when he likened it to a scratch compared to his. The cauldron continued to bubble, it produced green smoke and spat out occasionally. You couldn’t take it anymore. Severus stirred it dutifully and you told him you’d be back in a moment, trapsing your way to the bathroom. You paced back and forth frantically. You couldn’t stand the waiting idly by, you had fashioned a bandage for your hand out of the cloth and some rolled up toilet paper when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You moved towards it and placed your hands gently on the sink underneath it.   “You need to sort your fucking life out, (Y/N).” You said to your reflection, you stared deeply into your own face. Hardly even recognising the person reflected back to you.   “(Y/N)!” You heard Severus shout from the study. “It’s done.” You supressed the bile that rose in your throat and took a deep breath. You stepped uneasily back into the room to see Severus’ neutral face waiting for you. He stood with his hands behind his back.   “Have you looked?”   “Yes.”   “What is it?”   “For fucks sake, have a look.” He snapped; he shook his head with a scowl as you inched toward the cauldron. Your hands trembled as you peered down into the now still liquid. It was black. The liquid was black.   “It’s-”   “Black.” He answered with a smile.   “I’m-”   “Not. Pregnant.”

  You cried out a tremendous cry of relief. Big tears rolled down your cheeks as you moved to Severus in two swift movements and threw your arms around his shoulders. He swayed with surprise.   “Ow. Careful.” He murmured before he patted you awkwardly on the back. When you pulled away, you beamed triumphantly up at him and he returned your smile. “You can thank me by releasing me.” You complied with a laugh, a genuine laugh. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, you breathed easier than you had done in weeks.   “Thank you, Severus. I suggest you stop being nice to me or I’ll forever feel indebted to you.” You laughed, you noticed Severus’ expression alter slightly. “What? What did I say?”   “I feel like I haven’t been quite honest with you.” Severus said quietly, “Don’t interrupt me, just let me finish, yes?” You nodded and took a step back. You waited patiently for Severus to speak, he seemed to mull the words over before he was satisfied.   “You asked me a while ago whether I’m this involved with all of my old student’s lives, and I think we both know the answer to that. When I returned to Malfoy Manor after I took you to The Burrow, your father took me to one side.” You eyed him suspiciously as he wet his lips before continuing, “He knew what I had done and asked for a favour.”   “Of course he did.”   “Shut up, I’m not finished. He asked me if would be able to keep an eye on you, he knew I had connections almost everywhere, and he wanted reports of your whereabouts. And I agreed.” You stared unblinking at Severus. “He offered monthly payments if I could tell him where you were going, what you were doing, who you were seeing etcetera.” Severus squared his shoulders and took a sip of his port. “He just wanted to know you were safe.”   “So he paid you to spy on me?”   “In essence, yes. I never accepted the money though.” Severus levelled, you covered your eyes with your good hand and sighed.   “That’s why you let me stay in your house.” Severus nodded grimly and gestured for you to sit. You did so and chewed on your lip. You felt a multitude of emotions, not one of them good.   “There is one more thing, (Y/N). That night in The Leaky Cauldron where Mundungus saw you and I for the first time. He was there on my orders.” Your mouth fell agape. No, no absolutely not, that couldn’t be. Severus couldn’t possibly have ordered the hurt that Mundungus inflicted. You stared at him again, stony faced as tears began to trickle down your cheek.   “I heard you though, I followed you into the alleyway when you confronted him.” You said feebly, your lip quivered.   “I know, I made sure you would hear so not to suspect me. I was annoyed at him though, that was never part of the plan. He went rogue, so to speak.”

  A heavy silence descended between the pair of you. Severus, his usual staidness reduced to slumped shoulders and a guilty expression. There was a plethora of things you wanted to say, questions you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t find the words. He finished his port and hobbled out of the room, your heard him enter the bathroom. You sat still, positively unable to process everything he had told you. Was there anything in your life that you held control over? When he appeared in the doorway, his face was ashen with pain and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his brow.   “Do you have any cigarettes?” You asked him slowly. He nodded and pointed downstairs, you pushed passed him and retrieved them from his discarded coat. You carried the remainder of the bottle of port back with you and sat on the floor. Severus moved slowly passed you and collapsed into the chair, the evidence of his exertion etched into his face. You filled his glass with the ruby liquid and then pressed the bottle to your lips and took three deep swigs. He raised an eyebrow as if to complain but thought better of it.   “Did you ever care about me, Severus? Because if it isn’t already clear, I care about you.” You pulled a cigarette out of the packet and lit it, you threw the packet into Severus’ lap, a little harder than you intended. He winced and lit his own cigarette.   “Of course I care.” You scoffed and took another swig from the bottle.   “And are you going to tell him about this? My father?” You pointed to the cauldron full of Enfantin Inventim. Severus shook his head and took a sip.   “No, I did this for you.”   “Why should I believe you?”   “You don’t have to, I suppose. I can’t force you.”

  You were silent again after that, you took long drags of your cigarette until the heat became too much as it reached the filter and burned your lip. You finished off the port and dropped the stub into the now empty bottle. Severus didn’t remove his eyes from your face, as if he were waiting for you to explode. You had every right to, you could go and punch walls and kick holes in doors, but what would that achieve?   “I’m trying really hard to be angry at you.” You whispered. Severus’ look of surprise almost took you off guard.   “And?”   “I can’t.” Severus sighed and slipped further into the chair, he finished his cigarette and beckoned for the empty bottle. He dropped the stub in slowly, his face contorted with pain as he stretched. You watched as he did his usual action of wetting his lips, his tell-tale sign that he was about to speak.   “I do care about you, (Y/N). There’s a goodness in you that one doesn’t always see when they’re brought up in the circles we frequent. I’m satisfied knowing I played my part in ensuring you got out of it all. You remind me very much of somebody I knew a long time ago, someone I wished I could have done more to help, but it wasn’t within my power. This, on the other hand, was very much within my capabilities. I’m not sorry.” His face settled into a frown and you sighed with exasperation.   “Fucks sake.” You muttered, you rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to Severus. You dipped your head and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You’re an arsehole.”   “Believe me, (Y/N). That is one of the tamer names I have been called in my time.” He smiled ruefully and found your hand and gave it a squeeze.   “If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer it honestly?” You asked, you saw the faintest hint of humour flash across his eyes.   “I shall try.”   “Was it the Dark Lord who hurt you last night?” He looked at you thoughtfully, a smile tugged at his lips. Severus lifted his chin and placed a finger on it and brushed it over his lips.   “Yes.” You didn’t quite know what to do with the information, you weren’t quite sure why you asked the question. You simply nodded and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Please don’t worry about me, (Y/N). I know what I’m doing.”   “Still.” Severus shrugged, he looked to the clock on the wall and then out of the window into the night.   “If you leave now, you could make it to The Burrow by midnight. Bring in Christmas with your loved ones.” He said quietly, you wondered if you saw the slightest twinge of remorse on his face. You cocked your head to the side.   “You want me to go?”   “I think we both know it’s time for you to, what’s the expression, ‘get your shit together.’” You snorted and threw your head back as you laughed.   “You could come with me, if you like; to The Burrow?” Severus shook his head, his hands outstretched in front of him.   “No thank you, I prefer my own company.”   “What will you do? Will you be okay if I go?”   “I have weathered much more serious casualties than this one by myself. I shall be fine. I will travel back to Hogwarts in the morning ready for my Christmas Dinner.”   “Are you sure?”   “Go,” Severus stated with a small smile, “Get out of my house.”

******

  It was five to midnight when you knocked on the door to The Burrow. You didn’t want to just burst in, just in case they were asleep or busy with family time. Your fingers flew to your neck where the intricate choker your father had sent you sat at the base of your throat; it was a special occasion after all. You knocked again and stood back to take a look at the house. There were a few lights still on even at this late hour, you strained to hear any noises on the other side of the wood and were about to knock for a third time when the door flew open. Ginny stood in fluffy red pyjamas, wand raised and a look of shock on her face. You launched yourself at her and she you, you engulfed each other in a vice like hug.   “I knew you’d come.” She whispered, “George is going to wet himself.” She led you through the house where only Molly, Ginny and Ron sat by the fireplace in the living room. Molly clasped her hands to her mouth as she struggled to get out of her chair quickly.   “Oh! My dear!” She said as she tottered toward you, she pulled you close to her chest and rocked you back and forth. “I am so happy you’re here; we can finally celebrate now.”   “Please don’t, you’re going to make me cry.” You said as Molly pulled away and placed a warm hand to your cheek.   “Welcome home.” She whispered. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  The sound of feet thundering down the rickety staircase made you jump, Ginny arrived breathlessly at the bottom and George immediately behind her dressed in his pyjamas. Your eyes met across the expanse and you opened your arms to him. He crossed to you in a flash and placed two hands on your face and pressed his lips hungrily to yours. You tossed your arms around his neck, and his arms moved down your body and hugged your waist. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed.   “Merry Christmas.” You breathed; a whisper of a smile played at George’s lips.   “Merry Christmas.” He replied, he laced his fingers with yours and beamed at you. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  Most of the snow had melted in the fields surrounding The Burrow, and you were grateful for it as George almost dragged you along a beaten path to a wooden bench under a tree, a good quarter of a mile away from the house. He pressed a hand to the seat and shrugged;   “It’s not wet, just cold.”   “I can handle cold.” You sat close to him on the bench, his arm around your shoulders as you both gazed up into the crisp night sky. There was something about the way the stars looked from here, like you could reach out and touch them. Lonely clouds like tiny whisps of smoke littered the sky occasionally, and you took turns in those moments where the stars weren’t visible in giving the other a kiss.   “Merlin, I missed you.” George said into your hair, he stroked the side of your face with a gloved finger and you melted into his touch. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”   “There’ll be plenty of time to talk about it, George, but I need to tell you something.” You replied, his gaze softened as he placed another tender kiss to your lips. You sighed contentedly at the feeling of warmth that spread through you, you were home. He squared his shoulders and shifted slightly on the bench, so to face you more.

  He listened intently whilst you told him of everything since you had last seen him. He nodded and occasionally asked the odd question like; “Was the inside of Snape’s house full of bodies?” and “God, I can’t believe you slept in his bed. Was it a coffin?” The only thing you neglected to tell him was of Severus’ attack, you didn’t know how deep the waters were that surrounded his area of his life and you didn’t feel like it was your place to share that information. When you told him of your pregnancy scare, his eyes widened, and his jaw clenched.   “(Y/N),” He said sternly, “You should have told me straight away. That’s not fair.”   “I know love, I feel awful about it. That’s one thing I’m truly sorry for, George. I promise not do anything like it again.” He nodded, seemingly content with that and kissed the tip of your nose. You began to tell him of the plot your father had embroiled Severus in, and George’s hands clenched into fists.   “That fucking snake.” George muttered, “How are you not furious?”   “Believe me, I tried to be,” You answered, “We talked about it and I decided there’s more important things to be worried about. I don’t blame him for what he did and neither should you, okay?”   “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”   “I’ll take it.”

  When you climbed into bed that night, it was nearly two in the morning. The rest of the house was sound asleep as you and George became reacquainted. His hands found themselves tangled in your hair and you moaned quietly as he pulled softly, his mouth lathering your neck in kisses.   “Fuck, I’ve missed the sounds you make.” George breathed into your ear, you tipped your head back and found his mouth with yours. His hands travelled from your hair down to your hips, he pulled you close, and you felt his already hard member as it pushed against his boxers. You brought a hand down and cupped it, he hissed at the contact and bucked his hips forward. “Please let me fuck you, (Y/N). It’s been too long.”   “Yes, oh, fuck yes. Do it, George.”

  He wasted no time in pushing your knickers over your bum, and you wiggled frantically in an attempt to free yourself from them. He pulled his boxers down and climbed between your legs, he rubbed his cock against your folds and spat into his hand, rubbing it along his shaft for extra lubrication. When he pushed into you, you moaned together. It was like for one split second, the earth stopped. Everything stopped. You could hear your heartbeat in your eyes as you pulled George’s head down to kiss his lips. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip, and he shuddered. He rolled his hips against yours, and you grasped onto his shoulders tightly. George pulled out almost completely, before he pushed into you again; fully sheathed inside you. He did this three more times before you cried out;   “Please! I can’t take it anymore!” With a growl, George thrusted hard. His hips snapped backwards and forwards at intense pace, he lifted your legs above his shoulders, allowing him to bury himself deeper within you. You gasped at the sensation of being utterly filled by him, your brow furrowed as you struggled to keep your moans quiet. He continued this pace, his cock now slick with your juices as you bit down hard on the back of your hand. He pushed back slightly and reached a hand in between your legs, parting them slightly as he began to furiously rub your clit. Your eyes rolled back into your head as overwhelming pulses of pleasure coursed through your veins, you moved your hips with his, suddenly desperate for release. George let your legs fall from his shoulders as he grasped your hips, moving you with ease along his throbbing cock. You groaned, as George pressed harder against your mound, drawing from you a string of curses as you trundled towards your orgasm.   “Fuck, I’m going to come, George.” The surprise in your voice was palpable, the swiftness in which George was going to make you come was incredible. You panted hard against his shoulder as with a grunt, his nimble fingers rubbed you to completion, his cock hitting the delicious spot inside you. As you reached the peak of your high, George followed. He groaned as your walls tightened around him and he spilled his seed deep into your quim.   “Sorry,” George breathed, “I couldn’t hold on any longer.” You smiled and kissed him, it was tender and held every ounce of love you had for him. He deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue around with yours as his hand cupped your breast. “I’m going to fuck you so hard as soon as we get to the flat, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”   “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Georgie.” You smirked, he tweaked your nipple between his fingers and brought his mouth close to your ear, his voice deathly low.   “I’m going to make you come, over and over again. You’re going to beg me to stop. Then I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you the way you ought to be fucked. Rough and hard because naughty girls don’t get fucked nicely.”

  Your skin flushed with heat as he nibbled at your earlobe, desire already building between your legs. You cast a look to George, who looked about two seconds away from falling asleep and giggled.   “Do you want to be the little spoon?” You asked, he didn’t answer, instead he rolled his body away from you and faced the wall. He pushed his bum out and you gave it a playful slap.   “Don’t get any ideas.” He muttered and you grinned as you wrapped your arm around his middle. He laced his fingers with yours and hummed contentedly as the room gave way to the quiet of the house.   “I’m so happy you came back.” George whispered; his voice heavy with tiredness.   “Me too. I love you.” You replied with a yawn.   “Love you too.”

  George complained the entire way back to the flat. He had insisted on carrying your bags plus gifts you had received over Christmas, including but limited to; a lovely scarf Molly had painstakingly kitted for you and a hilariously ruffled gilet for George. You couldn’t help but grin consistently as you walked ahead of him up the back stairs to the entrance of the flat, his hat had slipped over his eyes and he lost his footing. Your suitcase lurched backwards, it manged to bump comically every step before it lay still at the bottom of the stairs.   “Right!” George announced, he dropped the rest of the bags and grabbed hold of your hips. You yelped in surprise as George hoisted you over his shoulder, fireman style and proceeded up the rest of the stairs. He near enough kicked the front door open and moved swiftly through the flat and into your shared bedroom, he ignored your giggled protestations and flung you down onto the bed. He was on top of you in an instant, his knee pushed your legs apart and his mouth descended onto your throat. He sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin and began undoing the buttons of your coat.     “Off.” He ordered as he opened your coat and tugged at the bottom of your jumper. Dutifully, you sat up and removed the offending items of clothing. His gaze was ravenous as he watched as you tucked your hair behind your ears and waited for further instructions. George’s gaze flashed down to your breasts. “Off.” He repeated. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as George removed his own coat and shirt, his hands moved to his belt and he slipped both his jeans and boxers from his body, his already hard cock sprung against his stomach as you followed suit. You threw your jeans across the room and your knickers next.

 “So beautiful,” George commented as he ran a featherlight touch across your cheek. “Such a good girl.” You melted into George’s ghost like touch and shuddered. You kept your eyes on him as he brought a hand down to his cock and rubbed along the length slowly. “Touch yourself, (Y/N) I want to see you make yourself come.” Your eyes widened with shock for a moment before a smile crept across your mouth and you brought your hands to your breasts. Was it a show he was after? Then a show he would get. You placed your fingers on each of your hardened nipples and tugged slightly, your lips parted slightly at the sensation. You heard George as he took a sharp intake of breath as he gripped the head of his cock. You trailed one hand slowly down your body and shuffled down the bed as you lay your shoulders back onto the covers. You reached your throbbing cunt and spread your legs wide for George to see, he moaned as you brought your fingers over your clit and rubbed a sweeping circle of it.   “That’s it,” George moaned, “Let me see you- oh! Good girl.” You watched as George began to pump himself faster, your name fell from his lips as you plunged two fingers between your slick folds. You matched George’s pace as you fucked yourself with your fingers, you closed your eyes and fisted the sheets with your free hand. Pleasure built within you as with each pulse of your fingers, you found your sweet spot. “Come quickly, (Y/N). I want to see how fast you can come.”

  You took your fingers out of your entrance and brought them now coated in your juices and recommenced the rubbing of your clit. You moaned as you rubbed tantalisingly quick circles on the electrified pearl between your legs. Your toes curled as you felt your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach, you moaned, and George answered it with a moan of his own. Your hips bucked from the bed as you pressed harder with each swipe of your fingers until you came, it was fantastically intense and your voice, thick with desire called out for George.   “Come here.” He demanded once you had recovered. His cock was impossibly hard and almost screamed for attention as you crawled slowly over to where he sat. George placed a hand on your head as you took him in your mouth, you placed a tender kiss to the tip and licked the little drops of precum that had gathered there. He sighed as you pushed your lips down the length of hi and relaxed your throat, allowing him a small thrust. His gentle hand became a fist in your hair as he pulled you back, almost pulling you away from his cock; but your hand reached around the base of him and began to pump him. Your tongue swirled around his tip and George’s head rolled back as you wrapped your lips around him and swallowed. You found a rhythm and George’s hand on your head helped you keep time; you could see the muscles in his thighs tense as you hummed around him.   “Fuck. That feels good. Such a good girl.”

  At George’s praise, you sucked him faster, hollowing your cheeks and your grip around his shaft tightened. George’s hips began to lift off the bed as he thrust into your mouth. There was nothing you loved more in this world than to feel this man come undone under your hand, you moaned against him and he slid further into your throat. That was enough for George, who parted with four thick spurts with a cry of pleasure. You swallowed it up and wiped your mouth, you pulled away and gently massaged your aching jaw. You watched the rise and fall of George’s chest as he recovered from his orgasm, arm slung over his eyes.   “I love you.” You whispered, you felt tears sting your eyes and you sniffed. George sat up and looked at you, his face etched with concern.   “I love you too, what’s the matter?” He asked, he pulled you close and bundled you into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you nuzzled your face against his neck.   “Nothing, nothing. I’m just so happy.” George chuckled and hugged you tighter, you popped a leg over his and hummed as happy tears fell from your eyes.   “Me too.”

**********

  “No, those need to go to the stockroom, Fred. I’m not having them cluttering up the flat. There’s already zero room in here as it is.” You gestured around you to the boxes of stock that stood tall in your tiny living room.   “Right, and I’m telling you there’s nowhere to put them. We need more space.” Fred sighed and placed the box full of love potions on the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Angelina appeared from behind a tower of boxes, her face aghast as Fred opened his arms to her. He placed a kiss on her shoulder.   “We’re drowning in all this.” She said, you shook her head at you; a silent communication that the boys had finally lost the plot.   “What do we need to do?” George called from the doorway, he levitated three coffee’s behind him as he held a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand, a bottle of champagne in the other. You grinned as he rushed to you, he presented the flowers to you and you sniffed them gratefully. Roses, lily’s and daisies. Your favourite.   “They’re beautiful, George! Thank you!” You placed a loving kiss to his cheek and traced a lily petal delicately with your finger as George put the champagne in the fridge.   “Congratulations my love! And happy second anniversary.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a hug.   “This mine?” Angelina asked, she pointed at one of the three coffees suspended behind George’s shoulder.  “Oh yeah sorry, Ange. This one’s yours love.” George smiled and dished the coffees out; Angelina gave George a warm smile of thanks as you sipped happily.   “Where’s mine?” Fred demanded; George patted his pockets sarcastically.    “You weren’t here, mate.” He shrugged, Fred huffed and turned his attention to you.   “Congratulations I suppose, (Y/N). Still think you’re wasting your time being a Healer.” Fred said, Angelina wasted no time smacking his stomach.   “You think I’m wasting my time being a Healer…as we’re about to go into war?” You said, despite the seriousness of your words, a smile tugged at your lips as you knew Fred was just sorry to lose you from the shop. You had spent the last year and a half revising your arse off to be fast-tracked through the training programme. It was the only way you could think of to give back an inch of the kindness you had received. You had received your lime green robes this morning, an immensely proud moment indeed.   “All I’m saying is, you could have been junior assistant manager. I had the badge made for you and everything.”   “Ignore him, (Y/N).” Angelina said as she rolled her eyes, “We’re all really proud of you. Well done, babe.” You handed George the flowers and tossed your arms around Angelina’s neck for a hug.   “Thank you, Ange. What did I ever do without you to help reign dear Freddie in?” You laughed and she laughed with you.   “Think there’s anyway we can back out, Georgie?” Fred whispered dramatically to George who just grinned ruefully.   “Not a chance.”   “Too fucking right. You’re stuck with us now.” Angelina replied, an arm slung round your shoulders. “We still need to work out what to do with these boxes.”   “There’s no room for them in here.” George offered, he waved his wand over your flowers and they arranged themselves beautifully in a vase.   “No,” Angelina agreed, “I think we all know this flat isn’t big enough for four people, couples or not.” You nodded and made your way back to George, he hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter and you settled between his legs.   “What are you thinking?” Fred asked his girlfriend; Angelina shrugged and sipped her coffee.   “We were thinking,” You replied, “Turning this upstairs flat into a staff room and overflow stockroom. You’re selling so much, so obviously have to have the stock to sell. There just isn’t room for us in here anymore. Plus, I’m pretty sure the staff would love to be able to come up here and have an actual cup of tea on their breaks.”   “We think we should move.” Angelia said, “Separately.” She added softly. George’s hand stiffened around your waist. You wished that Angelina had waited a day or two before dropping the bombshell, but the pair you had spent the last month speaking of little else. You and George needed your own space, and Fred and Angelina needed theirs as much.   “You want us to move away from each other?” Fred asked incredulously, you offered him a small smile.   “Not exactly.”

**********

  The portkey dropped you in the middle of a field. You were on your lunch break and only had half an hour before you needed to be back at St. Mungo’s. George looked stressed as he straightened his tie, you could tell he was nervous. You took his clammy hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.   “You okay?”   “Yeah,” He replied in a strained voice. “It’s just a lot of money to part with.” You sighed and dragged him in the direction of Fred and Angelina who stood waving at you. You approached them with hello’s and hugs and waited.   “What time’s he meant to be coming?” Fred asked as he checked his watch, you followed suit and checked the upturned watch pinned to your robes. Only twenty minutes left.   “Any minute now.” Angelina asked. You all looked in opposite directions, scouring the grassy horizons for any sight of the man in question. What you didn’t expect, was for him to surprise you from behind.   “You can never expect a group of Gryffindor’s to be on time.” You felt a grin widen across your face as you saw Severus fold his arms across his chest.   “Excuse me, I’m one of yours.” You replied, he shook your hand rather formally but gave you a brief wink as he dropped two sets of keys into George’s hand.   “Is it all sorted?” George asked the potions master, Severus nodded.   “Yes, I watched them as they signed the paperwork this morning. All in your names now, though I don’t see why you had to have me do it. I’m very busy.”   “Because I don’t trust anybody else.” You countered, “I needed to be one-hundred-percent sure my parents wouldn’t try any funny business.”   “They were quite happy to get rid of these cottages if you ask me. They have no need for them anymore, especially given that they’ve sold the house in Rouen.” Severus said, he looked up at the old stone walls of the two cottages.   “The price of war, I suppose.” Fred quipped; Severus cocked an eyebrow but ultimately smirked in agreement. You broke away from George and the others and placed your arm through Severus’, wandering a few steps.   “Thank you again, I really appreciate that.” You whispered; your heads close together. Severus placed a hand on top of yours and patted it softly. “Are you still coming for lunch on Sunday? It’s my only day off this week.”   “Are you cooking?”   “No, George is.”   “Yes, I shall arrive at twelve.”

  You waved as Severus made off into the distance, when there was no longer any sight of him. Angelina turned to you, and then back out to the cottages. A pair of great stone cottages with an adjoining garden stood before you. That had been built hundreds of years ago by twin farmers who tended the surrounding fields. They were acquired by your parents in the sixties; and now were to make new homes for you and George, Fred and Angelina. It was fitting really that another pair of twins would live in them all those years later, making new memories.   “How long have you got before you need to be back at the hospital?” George whispered into your ear. You glanced down at your watch.   “Fifteen minutes.”   “Plenty of time.” He breathed, George grabbed your hand and dragged you laughing towards the front door of your cottage. The door slammed behind you as he placed a hungry kiss to your lips. His hands where everywhere at once, slipping your robes over your head and grunting in your ear.   “This is our house, (Y/N). I want to hear how loud you can be.”

Of course, you complied; you wanted everybody to know that you were his, forever.

[twh-news]

‘Loki’ Director Kate Herron on Tom Hiddleston + Why You Can’t ‘Wait for Permission’

By Lisa Granshaw | Backstage

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, more than lives up to his God of Mischief title. You can never be sure what the character will do next. For director Kate Herron, though, rehearsal and planning ahead are actually a key component of her process, even for the Disney+ series named for the mercurial character, “Loki.” But, she adds, as important is allowing for a little mischief on set.

“I do a lot of rehearsal. When we actually get to set, particularly on ‘Loki,’ we’re really on a fast schedule. We filmed it like a six-hour sort of extravaganza, but we were on a TV schedule. That was very ambitious for what we were trying to achieve,” Herron says. “Rehearsal was so key in that, and it’s working out in rehearsal, not to the point that you can’t discover fresh things about the script on the day, but just so we were all kind of on the same page by the time we got to set and we knew what we were going for. Then it was really just discovering new things on set, to be honest.”

The Disney+ show answers a question set up in “Avengers: Endgame”: What happened to the Loki that managed to get away when the Avengers went back in time to the events of the first film? It turns out, that’s when the Time Variance Authority (TVA) and Agent Mobius, played by Owen Wilson, stepped in. In the series, Loki—along with the viewers—learns more about the TVA monitoring timelines and the variants, including other Lokis, that the organization deals with.

Generally, Herron writes and directs her projects, and what draws her to them is typically an idea she’s had herself, and then “following that through from script to screen.” But for ��Loki,” it was a love of the character more than anything.

“I think he has one of the best arcs in the MCU and I love the comics,” she says. “I was just excited to see where they were taking the character and then obviously, they sent me what they were going to do with the character and I thought, I want to be a part of this.”

For Herron, working on a Marvel project was very different from her previous outings behind the camera (she’s directed episodes of “Sex Education,” among other projects), particularly as far as how the production was run. She likens the experience to working on a big-budget film opposed to a typical TV show, which also impacted her initial approach to the material.

“The first thing was just working with Michael [Waldron] and some of the writers. They’d already done their main write-through and then we did like a second mini kind of writers’ room with Michael, Elissa Karasik, and my executive producer, Kevin Wright, from Marvel,” she explains. “We just kind of spoke through some of the other story elements, just fresh thoughts that I had coming in and stuff that they also really wanted to keep working on.”

The Loki that we meet in this series is the character from the very first “Avengers” film, but having Hiddleston get back into the spirit of the character, luckily, wasn’t difficult given how long he’s been playing the role.

“No one knows Loki better than Tom. I think for me, it was really just about having his back. We’d chat while we filmed that first episode a lot about making sure that he was ‘ Avengers’ Loki, and bringing that presence,” Herron says. “We actually would talk a lot about scenes from ‘The Avengers’  in terms of where [Loki] is emotionally, because he was only there hours before. I think that’s generally how we both kind of kept in check with each other and made sure it was the Loki from 2012.”

Despite her diverse credits, Herron’s advice for aspiring directors is tinged with what could be seen as a very Loki sentiment: Don’t wait for permission. “When I got ‘Sex Education,’ I was working at a fire extinguisher company,” she says. “I’ve worked in so many offices, which in a way actually helped a lot with the TVA and it feeling like a real office, because I’ve worked in so many. Honestly, just go out and make something, even if it’s on your phone or just whatever means you have. A friend of mine made a film just using a desktop computer and it was great.”

In a similarly resourceful spirit, when working as a waitress, Herron would attend comedy nights in order to persuade comedians to work with her. And while working on her shorts, she listed everything she had access to and recommends aspiring directors do the same.

“It was like, wherever I was living or the street outside my friend’s house, and also interesting stuff, like my friend had a boat or if your friend has a cool car or something. I think it’s a kind of trying to find things that are strange, maybe a friend has a weird pet or something,” Herron says. “Things you can build into a story, with what you have access to, so you’re not hindered by budget. Just go out and make something. That’s the best advice I can give. I did my short for probably about $150. That was just me using not the latest technology, but whatever I could get my hands on.”

[tortoisenottortoise]

Am I the only one who likes seeing muscular women in media more than muscular men?

Alright so, this one will probably end up much shorter and a little more ranty than I'd like, but this is kind of personal so be fairly warned. 

 Recently I've seen a few complaints about the new He-Man show and honestly, I fully understand and empathize with them. Whilst I haven't fully seen the show, from what I've viewed I can personally speaking agree (or at the very least understand) where most criticisms come from. I think it's incredibly shitty that the writer basically lied to his audience about how the show would run. Now normally I'd be fine with a twist such as He-man dying, but he's an important part of the show and the way the marketing & merchandising for it was running kind of comes across as him basically using He-Man's name to get people into the show. I also feel like it's fine to view Teela as obnoxious and annoying, nothing about her personality-wise seems likable to me. I also heard a few complaints about Orko's (I think that's his name, don't crucify me) backstory and how his character was handled.Yet as the title suggests one that didn't stick with me was the criticism of Teela and a general trend towards the criticism of women in media as being "masculine". 

I've heard over and over that Hollywood representing strong women by giving them masculine traits is a bad thing and yet... I kind of don't get it? It feels odd to say, almost like I'm the dumbest man alive for admitting something which most people on the internet seem to be so sure about, yet I just don't understand where this is coming from. I've seen this thrown at She-hulk, Wonder Woman, Abby, and many other characters, yet when inquired it usually loops back around to, "Yeah they have muscles", and that's about it. This type of criticism in specific seems to overly focus on the appearance of said characters. It's the one critique I just can't get behind and it feels like at best it's a shallow criticism that fails to get its point across, and at worst it's actively demeaning to women who desire to or show masculine traits. But first, let me break this down into sections.

Section 1: Muscles =/= Masculinity (In my opinion at least)

Oh boy, I feel like this is a section that might rustle some feathers, but I'm going to try and explain myself best as possible. I simply do not view muscularity as a feature that is inherent to or should be inherent to men. I'm not going to pretend as if muscular men aren't more saturated in media and art, nor as if they're societally treated as masculine, but one of the reasons I fail to understand this criticism is that I see muscles beyond the horizons as being just a masculine trait. 

I believe that muscles should instead be seen as a sign of hard work and determination. As someone who's currently trying (and struggling) to stay healthy and fit, it's much harder than a lot of media portrays it to be. It's a test where you push yourself to the limits, not just for the sake of doing it, but so you can improve as a person. Whenever I go to the gym and see a muscular gal or guy walk by, my immediate thought isn't, "how masculine" or anything like that my thought is, "wow! They worked hard to get like that, I should work hard as well!". 

This interpretation tends to feel like it's just simply taking a piss on people who actively work hard to achieve higher levels of strength. Especially when society places and enforces these unrealistic standards onto people. If you don't have a six-quintillion pack nor can bench press a fucking house then you're worthless, of course, that is unless you actually attempt to pursue said standards which in that case you're automatically dismissed as cheating your way to gaining your muscles instead of putting any work in. And that's just for men who often don't have to deal with traditional idiots who are stuck in the year 1950 where I can't walk on the same street as them. My skin crawls when reading tweets from older men talking about how weightlifting women are "ruining their fertility" and I absolutely hate it when people in my life treat these women as if they're mythical creatures from a fairy tale, or when females who have trained to such a degree are simply dismissed as being inferior. 

Obviously, I don't think the people who say this are like that, but whenever I hear this type of critique I can't help but think of the culmination of all these experiences I've gone through. But then again, this might honestly just be because I'm personally attracted to muscular women.

  Section 2: Body type diversity

  Another reason that I tend to like muscular women in media over muscular men is simply due to the sheer oversaturation of muscular men. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem if anybody likes muscular men. I totally get wanting to shove your face in between some man titties or get inspired by their physiques. In all honesty, almost everything I said earlier can directly apply to men, but one of the reasons I bring up body type diversity is that there tend to be much less muscular women than men. I

f anything, I'd have to say that muscular men are almost treated as the default when it comes to things like superhero comics, movies, video games, anime, etc. In a similar vein, the default for women tends to be slim and curvaceous, you get the drill. Whenever someone who doesn't fit into either body type shows up and isn't treated like a joke/gag or a character to rip on, I can't help but be happy about it. As much as I have no clue wtf is going on with TLOU2, I can appreciate that Abby's portrayal doesn't seem to exist solely as a joke meant to demean women for working out. I'm excited when an anime protagonist is a fat character who can go beyond just being a "fat guy" and is treated the same way a normal person would be.

 Regardless of what you think about whatever trait you're criticizing, there's probably someone out there who fits it. If you're not into it or dislike it, then that's fine, but I'd rather have that expressed than it being actively made out as a harmful trope as opposed to just literally another body type that some women have.

  Section 3: Muscular women inspire me more

Ok so, we've now blown into a full-on personal experience, buckle up boys, girls, NBs, anything in between, and I feel like I'm forgetting someone so apologies! But yeah, muscular women in media tend to be a lot more inspiring than people seem to give them credit for. This comes down to a mix of both the qualities I outlined earlier in what makes the characters inspiring but also plays into the idea of body diversity. 

One of the traits that make amazons seem more inspiring is their inherent rarity/lack of screentime. As I stated earlier, whilst I do enjoy my fair share of man-titties, it kind of gets to a point where it's more depressing than inspiring when all you see is just super-models shoved in your face whenever you walk into a theater. If for every Goku I could find ten other guys who were on the chubbier side then I'd be able to take more from when I see Goku and other characters with his body type, yet it's so saturated that it no longer becomes something to aspire to, but simply the norm.  It's not that you can work to become muscular or skinny with hard work and effort, you have to be muscular or skinny unless you want to be deemed a failure. Being chubby often isn't presented as a starting point but just treated as a defect. As someone who spent years battling with my own self-perception, that's just not a good message to get across.

Now, this obviously isn't to say that people can never make muscular characters. After all, it's their story so they can put whatever they want in it. The aim of the game isn't to stop people from making a specific type of character, but to encourage a diverse set of people to make a diverse set of characters. This is the reason why I view muscular women as so inspiring. Instead of coming across as just "the norm" or "the standard" they stand out from the crowd and despite knowing what they have to deal with, are still ready and willing to work out and improve their bodies. They had a goal in mind and set time aside to achieve said goal, that's something I can get behind.

  Conclusion:

This will be another short section, but I just wanted to mention it because it caps off my thoughts on this post in general. What originally started as me just not getting the reason why people disliked Teela's design somehow turned into a passionate rant and I'm A) not sure if it fits on this particular subsection of the community, B) scared I'm going to get ripped to pieces, and C) somewhat unsatisfied with all that I said. At the end of the day, this probably won't be seen by too many people, but to those who do see it, I hope you have a wonderful day. I just wanted to talk about something that was near and dear to my heart and hoped that I made it clear why I view things the way I do. 

P.S: Can we stop having this double standard where we act like women whose arms show the slightest hint of definition are "unrealistic" whilst men can look like tree trunks and be considered normal and healthy? please and thank you!

[ladyartemesia]

How does one go about making friends?

That’s an interesting question, anon... I suppose it depends on whether you’re talking about on-line or in-person. I can share my experiences with both and hopefully that will provide insight...

(Though I am not really an expert, by any means, I suppose that having friends does make me at least marginally qualified to give advice about it.)

(Also - please assume that any in-person interaction I mention is carried out with ALL appropriate and applicable safety measures in place with regards to the pandemic.)

In-Person

I suppose this sort of friendship could come from school, or church, or on a team, or in a club, or at a party, or any thing where people habitually gather... I usually wait until I hear someone speak on something I know about and then chime in with thoughts and discussion. People like to be listened to. If you want to make friends, try and listen intently (I mean don’t be fake lol but if you are intent on forming a connection then effort is required obviously) and maybe ask questions that will keep them talking (if they seem interested in the topic).

There are often moments that can be shared, like a professor being too hard or some thing silly happening that can be used as conversation starters. Shared micro-experiences like this (and subsequent discussions of them) are excellent building blocks for friendship.

Honestly... being honest about trying to make connections is really good as well. You may feel uncomfortable with that and worry what people think but ... if someone were to say to you, “I would just like to make more friends,” would you look down on them? And if that person does look down on you for this type of honesty... is that really the type of person you want to be friends with anyways? We are social creatures, we should never be ashamed of our desire for connection.

It is important to recognize boundaries in a growing friendship. Adults have many demands on their time and therefore cannot always be available for each other. Respecting this is vital. Empathy in general is vital. This goes for in-person and on-line.

Inviting these individuals to shared experiences is important as well. Come over to play games, let’s go have dinner, let’s just take a walk... etc. It may feel in the beginning like you are initiating all of this, but that is OK seriously, you are the one trying to make the friend after all. My current best friend of 15 years who I would legit charge into a burning building for... she called me every day for weeks. She always asked me to hang out. I was kind of an aspiring hermit at that tender young age, but she was persistent and one day I realized I couldn’t imagine not having her there. Retrospectively I was not pulling my weight in the beginning of our friendship, but she wanted to be my friend so she put in the work. She was my maid of honor. When she struggled with unprecedented challenges after her first child, I took off days of work to be by her side. We have travelled to England and the Bahamas and a ton of states together. Her friendship is one of the most important relationships in my life. I have pulled her back from the edge and she has done the same for me and you don’t get that if someone isn’t willing to put in the work in the beginning. Not everyone is best friend material - it’s true. But some people are.

There is also, I have found, a pervasive habit among humans to seek out a “desirable” friend group. This means completely different things to every person. For some people, they want stereotypical popular friends, for others they want influential friends, for others they want friends who have idealized lifestyles, for others they want friends who have achieved things... Don’t look for anything like this. Look for commonalities instead. We both love BTS. We both love anime. We both love traveling. We both love... whatever. The desirable traits you may be hoping to collect in a friend group are illusions, constructs, and perceptions... They are nothing in the face of one beautiful connection.

On-Line

My closest friends online became my friends when no one read our work (except for Donna, but she is Donna and is therefore the exception to most rules) - as I was saying - we joined a few network and collab chats here and there and shared each other’s stories... We started to talk about our experiences... We bonded over BTS. We talked about fic writers and fics we loved. Eventually we formed our own little server on Discord.

I would definitely recommend joining network chats or joining general discord chats. There are a bunch of them floating around. Kinktae and Gukyi run one of the best ones out there called the BTSSmutHub and it’s fabulous. I have made many friends there. Everyone in there is always willing to talk. They even host game nights and I have so much fun... Truly a lovely group.

Honestly... with Donna ( @taetaewonderland ) - she messaged me and began to talk to me about my work and what she was working on and it grew from there. She was a much bigger blog, but she liked my edits and I liked her.

Ana ( @xjoonchildx ) and Lindy ( @ppersonna ) and I became friends because we were baby blogs with like 7 notes on each of our stories, but we loved each other’s work and we talked to each other about it. No one really reached out to me or wanted to be my friend back then - I had like 6 followers and I’m pretty sure 4 of them were bots... but the three of us would comment on each other’s stuff and share funny memes in our chat boxes and theorize about the drama big blogs that never spoke to us seemed to always post about. We talked about BTS and the content and how our lives were being affected by the pandemic. Donna became friends with Lindy and we merged our little group together.

Those three are special to me. Truly my friends. We have been through things now. Things I never expected, but they remain a constant. We talk every day. The other three are such social butterflies, they have other group chats that they have friends in as well, but I have always been someone who is a little more reserved in general. I love playing in the Smut Hub server now and then and I am close with a few other blogs who I have small chats or small group chats with and I value them so so much. Because... making friends really ISN’T easy. I mentioned those three ladies because they were my very first friends here and they are incredibly close to me still. (Again - to the other blogs I’m close to - I VALUE YOU SO MUCH I AM JUST TALKING ABOUT THESE THREE CAUSE THEY WERE FIRST AND I FEEL LESS SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT NAME DROPPING THEM 🙈🙈)

I would really just try and interact with blogs who like the things you like. Ana, Donna, Lindy and I bonded because we loved the same kind of stories... We sent in asks to each other and shared things on each other’s feed or tagged each other in games. We shared authors we liked and BTS moments we couldn’t get enough of...

Way more people know who Donna, and Lindy, and Ana are now... (though people did know Donna already lolz) They are so talented and it was only a matter of time before more people than myself realized that. I’m so proud of what they have achieved, and watching their blogs grow has been so rewarding to me. I’m so glad they put effort into being my friend. I couldn’t give them influence or share their work with a huge audience, but they never cared about that... I wish everyone in the world could find friends like mine. They are one in a billion.

Find someone who will hype you up. If you’re a creator, find someone who will be honest with you about your work, for better or for worse. If you’re just a blog looking to read and make connections then making lists and recs and reviews of great BTS content like gifs, fics, and whatever BTS puts out for us is a great way to start conversations. Don’t be afraid to interact. It is the universal signal that you want connection of some sort. Not everyone will interact back, but that is fine... I only needed one Ana - one Lindy - one Donna... they were more than enough. If someone is willing to interact with you, then they probably want connection too. I’m so glad that those three didn’t look at me and think “she isn’t really a very impressive blog” and just brush me off.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Friends To Lovers

Summary: You were so grateful that Brian helped you in your time of need that you exclaimed you could kiss him. Instead of rolling it off as a joke, Brian did just that.

Pairing: Brian Kang x reader (ft. Wonpil)

Genre: university au / friends to lovers

Warnings: typically cliché fluff

A/N: Back when I wasn’t dreaming of Park Jinyoung daily, I had this as a dream. I didn’t think much of it but was convinced by a few friends to write it so here you go! Oh, Y/N is typically dramatic. After all, she’s based off dream me so… haha!

Word count: 2452

“No!” you cried, your eyes wide with distraught. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Instead of saying no, you could tell me what’s wrong so I can with panic with you or calm you down,” your friend Wonpil offered and as you started to bounce around in your chair in distress, he grew concerned. “Y/N, talk to me.”

Looking away from your phone and blinking back your tears, you stared at him desperately. “They changed the date.”

“The date?” he repeated and then let out a hiss, jumping to your side. “To when?!”

“Five pm today!” you answered, collapsing onto the top of the lecture hall’s desktop, letting out a muffled wail. “I can’t! I need more time!”

“What’s this about?”

“Y/N’s having a meltdown,” Wonpil explained sombrely to Brian as he sat down beside you, Wonpil now petting your back gently.

“About?”

You shot your head up, pouting at Brian as he pulled out his things for class. “They’ve brought the date ahead on the writing competition.”

“You wrote the story though,” he commented, shrugging off your tearful disposition as he slung his bag over the back of his chair. “So submit it and stop making a big deal about it.”

“The date was meant to be two weeks from here, Brian,” you told him, shaking with your emotions. “I wrote the story but I wanted to check over it again before submitting it. How can I do that when they’ve changed the submission date to today to suit one of the judges?!”

“Do it now,” he prompted and you nodded, reaching down for your laptop bag. Pulling it out, you were still nodding away as you pressed the power button.

Except the device didn’t turn on.

“Wait, why isn’t it working?!” you exclaimed, growing distressed again. “This cannot be happening!”

“Looks like the battery is dead,” Wonpil pointed out, his index finger outstretched to the indicator on the side. “Did you store your piece on a cloud service or something?”

“I … not the final product,” you murmured, all hope draining from you. “I had it on my computer at home, this, and my external. But I left that at home too!”

“You sent it to me to read the other day on your phone, it should still be retrievable in our chat,” Brian piped up, and giving him a grateful smile, you pulled out your phone from your pocket.

You did have the document, but making any final changes to it on your phone would be kind of dangerous. You knew it wasn’t a reliable place to try and edit from and standing up, you collected your bag in the process. “I’m going to the library.”

“Or not,” Wonpil breathed as your lecturer entered the room, her stern expression halting your plans entirely.

It seemed foolish to be this worked up over a writing competition. After all, there was no guarantee you would win just by entering. But there was still a chance and as an aspiring writer, you knew you had to give it a shot, especially with what it could potentially offer you. The prize was to be taken under a publishing house to have your manuscript produced into a novella. That would give you the first step you needed towards your dreams.

And you had lost too many nights perfecting this part of your story to share in the competition to miss out on the chance all because of a sudden date change.

Still, with the way the lecturer’s hawk-eyed gaze pierced through your out of place position, you couldn’t quite take the risk to dart out now in front of her. Sitting down jarringly, you tried your best not to break down or hyperventilate.

And then Brian swiftly started shifting things around in front of you. He took your laptop you had placed back down and put his in front of you with the document all ready to go, opening yours and pretending he was using that instead.

Glancing in his direction, he merely arched an eyebrow at you to silently ask why you were stalling and to get on with it.

Taking a deep breath, you thanked him quietly and then began your thorough final edit, unaware of anything that was happening around you. You scrolled through, corrected minor structures of some things you had since sending Brian this copy, and then you finally submitted it to the competition, your heart thudding in your chest. You had sent your precious words off and now it would be up to the universe – and a panel of judges – to decide of their worth.

You were exhausted and exhilarated in the same moment, the emotions of this afternoon being all too overwhelming to deal with.

And then you blinked slowly, realising the lecture hall was empty for all but you and Brian.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, as you looked around yourself. “How long ago did class end?”

“Twenty minutes, I think. Wonpil had another class to get to so he told me he’d message you later. Get it all submitted?”

Nodding, you slid the borrowed device over to its owner and smiled. “Thank you. Honestly, you are a lifesaver.”

“You worked too hard for it to be a missed opportunity, Y/N.”

“Exactly! I worked so hard and even with this sudden change, I’ve managed to get it done. Oh my God, I hope they love it! And if they don’t, then someone will hopefully.”

“Take the hopefully out, you’ll get there. It’s good. Real good.”

You grinned at him. “And all thanks to you, I got to submit it! Ah, I’m so excited! If I could, I would kiss you right now!”

You were buzzing from the hype of achieving a goal of yours that the words slipped out without even meaning them to. You were good friends with Brian and normally he was used to your dramatics statements. But this one stilled his movement, his dark eyes flicking back to your face.

Which turned pink under his stare. “Oh uh, well-”

“What’s stopping you then?” he murmured and you blinked rapidly. “You could.”

“Don’t be silly, it was a slip of-”

He regained the ability to move then, shifting over into your space and cupped the side of your face in his hand, kissing you softly. It stunned you for only a moment, your eyes snapping shut as your mouth moved against his. What started out gentle gained some traction and by the time he pulled away, you were both breathless.

And for once in your life, you were lost for words.

“Payment for using the laptop,” Brian announced hurriedly and you nodded just as fast, getting up and gathering your things blindly. Brian went down one side of the room and you took the other, your mind reeling from the kiss.

You had kissed Wonpil once, as a friend, and that was entirely different from this one with Brian. You were certain, for one, Brian’s tongue had found yours at some part of that kiss. Your lips had also been pressed into his for easily five times longer than your appreciative peck with Wonpil.

Still, you didn’t want to challenge the reason; rather, you were too weak to even construct the words needed to. When you got to the bottom of the stairs along the wall, you looked up at Brian waiting at the door and tripped, missing the final step and reached out for the stray chair beside them in hopes you wouldn’t fall flat on the ground.

Trust you to become just like one of your characters when they realised something about a friend.

Because you just had realised how much you liked Brian.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he came over to your side, holding out his hand for you to take so you could get up from the chair. You merely stared back at him.

You had always laughed at those stories when someone in the protagonist’s world stood out in a different way suddenly. You had many a time rolled around on your bed reading stories with Wonpil and ridiculed the notion of not being able to define someone as handsome from the get-go.

But you got it now. The dependable friend you had come to appreciate in Brian had changed with that kiss. You admired the strong shape of his nose and the unique slant to his almond eyes. Were his cheekbones always set that high and had his jaw been that handsomely shaped? Your eyes fell to his lips, those that had just been pressed against yours. Your mouth fell ajar, a short huff expelling from you and Brian smiled.

If you weren’t winded before, you were now.

“Stop being dramatic,” he told you and pulled on your hand, the force springing you up. You weren’t prepared for it and stumbled again, his other hand moving to balance you. Every place he touched you now felt on fire. And you were concerned for the remaining part of your sanity.

You weren’t meant to be thinking of Brian as ridiculously handsome now, right?

“Do you need to sit? Or drink something? Maybe I need to just leave you to it?” he offered and on the last option you shook your head, though you felt faint soon after. Gripping on more tightly, you attempted to smile.

“Why did you kiss me?” you mumbled, unable to keep quiet after all. “We’re friends.”

“Friends can kiss,” he answered slowly as you both began to walk to the exit. “Plus you said-”

“So it meant nothing? That kiss? That went for so long?”

“It meant something,” Brian confirmed and you stopped, looking up at him again. His eyes shifted to yours and he smiled that handsome smile of his. “You mean something. I didn’t just give up an entire hour of one of our hardest classes where the notes aren’t put up on the student portal because of pure friendship, Y/N. You matter.”

“Matter how?”

“Must you know everything?” he murmured and you nodded in answer, causing him to chuckle.

Your knees lost their strength.

“Of course, you need to know everything.”

“Occupational hazard, I know,” you quipped and Brian sighed. “How do I frame this in my mind, Brian? You’re telling me I matter, but I want to know if it’s okay that I’m now thinking of you in a way that a friend shouldn’t.”

“Thinking of me how?” he questioned curiously, his eyes lighting up.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take from this epiphany of finding your friend to be the type of man who could make your heart flutter this much with one look.

“I asked you first,” you responded pointedly.

“It took you so long to like me back; surely I get rights to find out more first.”

“So long?” Brian nodded and you gasped noisily. “Wait, you’ve liked me all this time?!”

“Not from the start, no,” he corrected, looking around you both at how loud your voice had risen. Thankfully classes were still in session and the hallway was mostly empty.

Still, you winced apologetically. The last thing you wanted was to bring more attention to the unfolding situation.

“But one day, I woke up and I realised I liked you. So since then.”

“You just woke up feeling that way? Had I done anything the day before to spark it?”

“No, you were just how you usually are.”

“And you simply accepted it?” you wondered and Brian chuckled again.

“It helped me understand some things about myself actually.”

“Like?”

He nudged you playfully. “I’d get annoyed with Wonpil quite often. I realised it was because I was jealous.”

“Of me and Wonpil?!” you squeaked out and then shook your head and hands repeatedly. “There’s nothing there between me and Pil. I couldn’t imagine liking him like that.”

Brian snorted. “Seems like you didn’t imagine me like that until I kissed you either.”

You fell silent, trying to decipher more of the situation. With Wonpil, you had no hesitations to be who you were. And the same could be said about Brian, but it was different. You just hadn’t put it together as well as you were now. You had always hoped Brian would see you differently than Wonpil did. Now knowing that he did, well, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face.

“I’ve kissed Wonpil.”

Brian’s teasing expression drained away. “Y-you have?”

“Mm, like I would a friend, just a little peck. Should I peck you too? Maybe you’re right; I should try and imagine him actually kissing me.”

“Or you could not,” Brian offered, causing you to laugh at him.

“You could kiss me again too,” you added and Brian didn’t hesitate to lean in and do just that.

It was brief, given you had just stepped outside and people were milling around. It was one thing to kiss on campus without a care in the world, but it was dinner time, and most people didn’t need such a display of affection before hitting up the cafeteria.

Still, you almost complained when he pulled away. Brian pushed your hair away from your face affectionately and then smiled. “How’s that?”

“Hm, I think I might need to-”

“Can you stop with the teasing and just answer me straight?” he pleaded with a laugh and you looked down to see your linked hands. You hadn’t even realised you were still holding onto him this whole time. It made you swoon, especially when he picked up on where your focus was, his thumb gently running circles into your skin.

“I like kissing you,” you admitted and Brian’s lips curled up with satisfaction. You blushed, yet you couldn’t stop smiling back. “I like you.”

“Good because it’s been hard being the only one with feelings between us. Especially when you sent me a manuscript about a couple falling in love.”

You gasped, looking at him suddenly. “You’re right, I forgot all about the competition. It feels weird to think I was so wound up over that before.”

“You were close to your ugly sobbing face for sure,” Brian pointed out and you groaned, letting go of his hand and stalking across the grass atrium.

He caught you then, pulling you back and smiled another of those handsome smiles that you were certain you wouldn’t get enough of now. “It’s a good thing I saved you from having to let it out.”

“Saved me?”

“If it wasn’t for my computer, you would have most definitely had a meltdown.”

“Would you have kissed me if I did my ugly crying face?” you asked and Brian nodded.

“I would kiss you with any chance I get.”

_________________

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[velkynkarma]

Do you recommend Stormlight Archive? I see the tag every now and then and was wondering if it is a good read? Been looking for a good series for a while now. Do you mind giving me some reasons as to why I should read it if so? :)

The Stormlight Archive is an excellent series and I do highly recommend it. It is my all time favorite book series and has one of my all time favorite characters in it. 

That said, if you have never read Brandon Sanderson novels before, I do recommend you start with something smaller first, like the Mistborn series. Stormlight Archive is an amazing read and I could talk myself hoarse praising it, but it does require you to trust the writer, because it’s a very long and very dense story and some of the payoff doesn’t come until later. It’s there, I guarantee you it’s there. But it’s a lot easier to trust that it’s there when you’ve read some of Sanderson’s other works and know you will be satisfied because he delivers on promises so well. 

That said, if you want to jump right in and read Stormlight Archive regardless, here’s some of the awesome reasons you should try it:

Brandon Sanderson is just an amazing writer in general. He’s my favorite author and the thing I aspire to be as a writer of my own. I did a whole post about why you should read his novels here that has a lot to say about general style and approach, so I won’t repeat myself here.

Incredible characters. Kaladin is my favorite, but so many other characters are so good and so fleshed out and have so many interesting quirks and strengths and flaws that you really don’t mind swapping to any of their other stories. There’s so fucking many good characters. Even the little support characters have so much personality. You could do a whole series about Bridge Four alone.

THERE IS SO MUCH HURT-COMFORT EVERYWHERE. Listen. You don’t really get hurt-comfort in “normally published” books. Hurt-comfort or whump is like, almost exclusively a fanfiction thing. If characters get injured in a novel or movie or whatever, we never really see them get taken care of after, and fanfic writers usually patch that in on the side. Sanderson is like ‘nope, have all the whump and all the healing,’ and it’s great. We see characters bond over traumas and help each other get stronger and look out for each other. We see characters get injured and other characters banding together to save them and help them heal. We see characters dealing with mental traumas and bad memories and awful pasts and we see other characters helping them deal with it with no judgement, or actually saying out loud that helping people is worth it and the people who need to be helped aren’t worthless. We see distrustful characters slowly learning to trust again because they make friends who don’t let them down. It’s glorious.

There are too many fucking badass moments to name. Most of them are spoilers. But honestly, Stormlight Archive has the ability to sucker-punch me right in the feels over and over again. No matter how many times I read these books, there are at least half a dozen key moments I could name right here right now without having to think about it that feel just as strong as the first time I read them.

The world the books take place in is so freakin cool? It’s nothing like generic-fantasy-Europe. Hurricanes sweep the whole world on a regular basis and people have just learned to hunker down when they come, seasons are only like a couple weeks long and there’s dozens of them, most of the plant-life has learned to retract into rocks to not get shredded in the storms, most of the animal life is varying forms of crustaceans. Horses are about the only ‘normal’ animal in the whole book and they are considered a rarity. (On that animals note, everyone in this world thinks all birds are chickens. Parrots are also chickens. Everything is chickens).

The magic system is A+. Again, not generic wizards-casting-fireball. I don’t want to go into too much detail on it because it gets into spoiler territory but basically it’s really fucking cool and so fucking rewarding, the more you learn about it.

There are tons of different not-straight-white-male characters represented. Most of the characters are POC’s, one of the main characters is autistic (and treated with respect regardless), at least two of the main characters have mental illnesses they are learning to deal with (and again, respected regardless and offered help), the female characters are all well-written and not prizes for the men after they save the day, there’s been a couple of gay characters so far.

It’s not overly political (and by that I mean fantasy politics, specifically). There are some fantasy series I’ve never been able to get into because most of it is hyper focused on the political comings and goings of all the fake kingdoms, who’s got alliances with who, who’s fighting who, who’s married who, who has control of what industries where, fantasy red tape the characters need to go through to get anywhere, etc. It gets super dry and boring for me. Stormlight Archive doesn’t dwell on these things. They’re there, of course, you can’t build a world without giving it some form of political structure, but it doesn’t get so bogged down in the details you want to go to sleep. 

Worldbuilding again--there are these things called spren that are just semi-physical manifestations of a concept or ideal or emotion. Is somebody really proud of an achievement they just did? A Gloryspren might appear. Is it raining? Rainspren might appear. It’s just really cool to see them all casually woven into the background like it’s a super normal thing because in this world, it is. 

The money system isn’t gold/silver/copper and for some reason that has always stood out to me as really cool. 

There are so many twists that you won’t see coming but they will be absolutely satisfying, because all the clues are all there throughout the series, and you just didn’t know how to look for them yet.

Without getting into spoiler territory, those are the major things I’d highlight. It’s a great series. Just remember it is considered high fantasy (alongside works like Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings), so it is still pretty dense and there is a lot of it. But it’s so fucking good, I highly recommend. 

[kuwurapikaaa]

Chrollo Character Analysis

I have to warn you, even if this analysis does not have spoilers in the manga, but it is very long and with a dash of personal bias towards Chrollo - Admin MeiQi

Chrollo Lucilfer. One of the main villains of Hunter x Hunter. Leader of the phantom troupe, the band of thieves responsible for the Kurta massacre. Love him or hate him, he is an impressive character from a writer’s standpoint. You don’t know his morality. Like many characters in the manga, you don’t exactly know where to pinpoint him in the morality spectrum. He’s very gray in his morals, and that is what I want to see with a character.

Honestly, Chrollo is my most favorite character to write for, his complex character and his cunning personality easily makes him one of my favorites to stan and write for. Dissecting him is a very interesting thing to explore. - When I said that I can write a 2000 word essay on Chrollo, my friends said that they couldn’t believe that it was true or if I was joking, but here we are, with the quarantine and nothing to do, it has to lead me into this, a 2000 word monster.

His Past and How it affects him.

As of writing, we knew nothing about Chrollo’s past. And I think Togashi is not that interested in Chrollo. In my headcanon, Chrollo grew up roaming the streets of Meteor City. No family, no money, no food, nowhere to go. I can even see Chrollo doing sex work just to get around his life. He had to grow up very fast and was exposed to a cruel society at an early age. So, with his charm, his intelligence, and his sex appeal, he can put anyone around his fingers.

Meteor City is already a rough environment for an adult but you should also think about the children who roam the streets. How would a child interact with an environment as harsh as Meteor City? The city had always been described as this hell hole. Where people throw unwanted things, including unwanted children. Nobody was written in records and nobody knew the place. The city seems like it has no peace and is constantly in danger.

If my dad is writing this, he’d say that Chrollo is “Nagutuman” it literally means “starved”, it means that Chrollo got something taken away from him. Something that is really important. If I am going to paint a picture of Chrollo’s past, it would be less than beautiful.

Combined with Chrollo’s harsh upbringing and some type of mental illness, you have a recipe for disaster. - Perfect building blocks for a villain of a series as complex as Hunter x Hunter. As an aspiring writer, I always looked up to Togashi’s work and how complex the series is. Chrollo’s layers are one of the hardest for me to dissect without writing a long essay. Once you make me talk about Chrollo, I will run my mouth for ages. (Like what I am doing right now)

If I am going to embody Chrollo as one of the seven deadly sins, I think he’d probably represent greed, although envy is very close as well. He was a man with nothing who wants everything. He wants the money, he wants vast knowledge, he wants other people’s nen, he wants all the worldly things.

He was very obsessed with human nature. To the point that he will use this obsession to manipulate another person, and get what he wanted from them. He instilled himself to read books and observe the people around him. He used these books to pick a personality trait. Look, in typical literature, it’s easy to distinguish who is “good” and who is “bad” and personalities are not as complex as humans are.

With no one to talk to, he had this very reserved personality. Then, the books and observations couldn’t suffice anymore, so he started stealing very important things from people to know how they would feel when those worldly possessions were gone to them. When he saw how these people reacted to him doing that, he was joyed. He was happy in a twisted way to see what would happen. 

I would say Chrollo is kinda numb, but can you really blame the man himself? I don’t think so. Nobody looked after him. Nobody cared for him. Not that I’m trying to convince you that Chrollo is a good guy, which obviously is not the case. (Being the antagonist of the series)

Stealing these things made him understand humans, made an empty void in his body filled in this twisted way. But since Chrollo is greedy, these things never satisfied him. I can even compare him to Ging, Gon’s dad. His greed made him leave his son so that he can have all these adventures and stay a hunter forever.

That’s why I would hate being in the hunter x hunter universe. As someone who has a very set standard of morals, I don’t believe greedy people like hunters deserve the privileges that they are taking for granted. I believe that people should have equal rights and people that have privileges should use their privilege in the right way.

What is the troupe for him?

A favorite quote of mine from him would be “I’m not important, but my orders are.” It shows that Chrollo treats and respects each leg of the spiders like his equals. I would even argue that the members of the troupe are the only thing that is important to Chrollo. I would go more into that in the last category.

The troupe is everything for him. His friends, his family, and lastly an extension of himself. The troupe became his identity, the thing that gave him life, and probably the only thing that is making him significant in this world. The troupe members are the only ones who cared for their beloved boss

To form it, he gathered people that he trusted the most. They all shared a thing in common, immensely talented nen users and outcasts. They shared his philosophy. “We can steal anything from you, but never steal anything from us” He built the phantom troupe with immense trust and him sharing the same principles as his members.

The troupe members are the only people that actually know Chrollo and even then, as I observed, he doesn’t seem super close with anyone in the whole troupe, minus Pakunoda and Machi ?? I will expand on Pakunoda and Chrollo at another time.

One of the ironic things I have seen with the Phantom Troupe is how they would go through all that for the death of a member. (With the requiem for Uvogin) But it was also said that in order to join, you have to kill a member. I find it very contradictory. Or maybe they would get mad or be like that when the person who killed Uvogin didn’t join the troupe ?? That is just very ironic.

Although I don’t have an opinion on it, I am putting it out there so that we can discuss it below and what do you think about this ‘rule’ made by Chrollo. It was something I never thought of when writing this analysis or just as I am watching the anime and dissecting the manga.

How would his demise be?

I think his demise would be ironic and symbolic. As an avid fan of Teleseryes, anime, and a reader of many book series, I know what I’m talking about. His death would be satisfying to both him and the reader. I am aware that Togashi defies the tropes of regular shounen manga, but this ending is the best in a way that it is shocking and satisfying.

His death would be bittersweet. - His death would seem cold, yet twistedly satisfying. He would have nothing to lose. I have to stress it again, that he’s a man who has nothing, and for him, death is inevitable. Remember what Melody said? “He walked with death by his side” That means that the man is really prepared for his demise and feels satisfied whenever it would happen at whatever point of his life.

I can see that his troupe members would be in heaven already. Him being cornered by either Kurapika or Hisoka (if Hisoka wants a re-match). He’d be happy if Kurapika killed him because the boy will get what he wants because he knows that nothing good will happen in a life full of revenge. Kurapika will just regret it in the long run.

Yet, he would die with a smile on his face. A genuine smile, not the one that he’s showing to the people he manipulated. It would be the only time Chrollo would feel happy because he can join his troupe members in heaven. (If they are ever going there) He would be happy to be with the only people that he cared about.

In his conversation with Neon, which showed his human side (but of course, in typical Chrollo fashion, he used this vulnerability as an Uno reverse card and manipulated Neon with it) he showed that he genuinely believed in the afterlife. In life and death. In heaven and earth. In sin and forgiveness. In my headcanon, Chrollo is a devout Christian like myself. He prays every night and day.

His favorite bible verse in someone’s headcanon that I also agree would be Corinthians 13:4-7 “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily anger, it keeps no records of wrong. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

This exact verse shows that Chrollo is someone that has sympathy, as much as he is portrayed as evil, in fiction’s black and white principle. But, he always cared for the Phantom Troupe. The troupe is above his life. The number tattoo that they have shows his loyalty and how he would instill to his members that “once you’re a spider, you’d always be a spider”. As said before, the troupe is the extension of his identity.

The million-dollar question: Is Chrollo capable of loving someone?

As much as I am the Chrollo fucker that I am, I will answer you wholeheartedly, No. Why? You may ask. Because at the end of the day, Chrollo is a thief, a wanted criminal with a high bounty on his head. Having a significant other can throw him off from his highly unattainable ambitions, from him achieving what he wants in his life.

When I was writing my OC, Zara, that was partnered with Chrollo, I started thinking about this deeper. Since Zara is an OC of mine that is like the opposite of Chrollo. She wanted simple things like a family and a husband that will love her forever. - Chrollo doesn’t want all of that. As I said before, what he wants is the treasures and knowledge to fill his empty void.

I don’t think Chrollo is someone who is capable of loving someone. - That is my opinion. 

Like he isn’t the kind of guy for a long term commitment. He will fuck, but he’s the kind of guy to leave you behind. He sees that his troupe is far more important than some girl/man that would leave him if they knew he was this wanted criminal.

As much as the troupe is a piece of huge evidence to show that Chrollo is capable of loving people in a genuine sense, but his love for his troupe is limited to familial and mutual respect and trust. It isn’t something that should be taken into a romantic context.

Chrollo’s relationships minus the troupe will always end up in an abusive standpoint. It will always be filled with Chrollo feeding his partner lies about himself just to get what he wants. I said in his past that he never had anything, so he wants to take away everything from other people.

Without his manipulative nature, it would be hard for Chrollo to express love in a genuine way. I can even say that he’s like Kurapika in this department. They both are emotionally constipated people. Yet, they express it in a different way, being traumatized in different ways. Chrollo, unlike Kurapika, he used people to get what he wants and not push them away.

Since I am not a registered medical professional, I am not going to diagnose Chrollo with a mental illness. Like surely he does, but without proper knowledge, I cannot personally deliver it to the reader.

[indreamsink]

Hello! Sorry if this sounds annoying, but I'm an aspiring writer on AO3 and you're my favorite Dramione author!Do you have any writing advice, specially regarding the pacing of the stories? I feel like I can't balance scenes descriptions and dialogue correctly, but you're amazing at making your stories flow seamlessly!

Well hi, thank you so much! I really appreciate you. <3

Thanks for reaching out, and sorry it’s taken me a few days to get to this ask. I wanted to be sure I had time to actually sit down and go through some old notes and take some time to properly respond (it got a little long, sorry x). Here are a few things I try to keep in mind when I’m writing that I’ve learned over the years - and please note, this is just my own personal opinion on these things, and I’m by no means an expert. <3

I think one of the biggest things about good pacing is to keep the reader engaged. To create and hold tension, the story always needs to be moving forward in some way or another (this doesn’t mean there can’t be setbacks, but that the situation needs to evolve in plot/character development).

Conflict - this lies at the heart of every story, but can take a number of forms. What does your character want, and how will they seek to achieve it? Is the goal internal, external, or both? Do others stand in the way? These are important questions to ask yourself and to understand, even if some of it never makes it to the page. Your implicit knowledge will often embed itself more than you might think. 

As the stakes raise, the conflict needs to follow suit or the circumstances could grow dull and incongruent - ie drastic consequences for something that isn’t a big deal.

Conversely, non-stop conflict and tension can become tedious and tiresome to read. Allow your characters a break now and again. Shifts in pace will keep the story feeling fresh.

Keep track of your threads and try to avoid plot holes or noticeable discrepancies, which can jar a reader out of the story.

If your characters are likeable or relatable (not necessarily both) the reader will tend to care more about them and likewise become more invested.

Storytelling - this encompasses a number of things. You can lose a lot by way of pace with too much unnecessary infodumping. Let things unfold naturally, and not everything needs to be shared all at once. A little ambiguity can keep interest in the back of the reader’s mind, so that when information comes out down the road it’s that much more rewarding. The things left unsaid can often add a lot. 

Jumping right in on the action can often catch a reader’s attention right away, instead of a bunch of exposition.

Revealing information through dialogue can help to advance the story between characters, without feeling like a heavy block of narrative or description. 

Not every scene needs to be fully expanded on. If all the points of consequence have been shared, the scene can cut to the next without any significant loss in plot. 

Reflections can be used in place of fully fleshed out scenes to keep things moving. 

If you’re jumping between perspectives/POVs, you don’t need to re-tell the same scenes twice from different perspectives unless you’re purposely intending to reveal something that maybe one character missed that’s vital to the progression of the story. Also keep in mind that by splitting POVs the reader will know more than any one character will.

Word choice goes a long way. Short, crisp sentences will keep things moving faster (something I struggle with personally), whereas longer, flowing sentences can slow things down a little. I try to mix it up to keep a good flow. Check you aren’t structuring all your sentences in the same way, and don’t be afraid to break up your paragraphs - large blocks of text can sometimes be tedious.

SHOW, don’t tell. Instead of having a character say something angrily, demonstrate it. Is their hand curled into a fist? Their jaw clenched? Their face flushed? Making reactions visual and visceral can go a long way, not only in keeping the reader emotionally engaged, but also in preventing bland description.

There are so many “rules” of writing, many of which are subjective, and I try to be mindful of a number of them. But I think the biggest thing in writing, like in any craft, is always striving to improve and recognize learning opportunities. I do things in my writing now that I never considered even a year or two ago. The best way to improve, honestly, is just to keep working at it. Read, write, read, write, and so on. If you’re just starting out, stick with fleshing out a short piece to dip your feet in before digging into anything too substantial. 

If you haven’t already, try and track down an alpha or beta reader. An alpha is someone who reads at a bigger picture level - plot holes, characterization, storyline, pacing; a beta is the person who goes through to catch the spelling, grammar, punctuation, and sometimes wording/sentence structure. Just having a second, objective set of eyes can go a really long way in determining where you’re doing well and where you could stand to improve. Writing is a neverending pursuit, and you’ll probably never feel like you’re where you want to be, but that’s part of the joy of it (most of the time). 

I hope some of this was helpful!! I wish you the best in your writing (and I apologize for this novel of a response). <3

[kodzumie-archived]

Hey! Not really a question at all, I just wanted to say that you are amazing. Seriously, throughout my time spent reading this type of fiction, you are one of the best authors I discovered. A few days ago I laid down, reading your work, and It honestly made me tear up a bit. You've got this beautiful atmosphere going, the style of writing is easy yet contains great vocabulary. Emotions of the characters are believable and relatable, which is a rarity these days. Please keep it up, I can count the writers that impressed me as much as you – on the fingers of my one hand. I wouldn't be lying If I said that your writing is what I aspire to achieve.

I cannot express the amount of times I’ve reread this, this is truly the kindest thing I’ve ever heard in all my years of existence. You’ve made me tear up from your words, this is...thank you. Thank you so much, I really can’t thank you enough.

It brings me such an unexplainable amount of happiness to hear this; to hear that my writing could be given such high praise like this. Even now, I can’t even begin to fathom how to formulate my gratitude towards you in comprehensible sentences.

Thank you, really and truly I mean this with every bit of my heart, thank you! You and your words will forever hold a place within my heart. I’ll do my utmost best to provide content for you, which—hopefully—you can enjoy as well.

As for your writing, it flatters me beyond words that my writing is something you’d like to achieve. That’s genuinely such a high praise, my heart is on the verge of melting completely.

However, I believe in you and your abilities! Please know that you are more than capable of achieving what you desire. And, if possible, I’d love to watch you grow as a writer. I have full faith in you and your talents, I know you can do it. You’re wonderful and oh-so talented. You’ve got what it takes, love, and I can’t wait for you to accomplish them.

Thank you for everything. I’m wishing you the best, and please know that I love you so very much. Take care, friend! Muah! <3