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desolateice · 1 year

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hi, i just wanted to let you know that you have spoiled me. every time i try to read a different lawrusso fic, i don't like it because it doesn't really have the same amount of effort.

I watch the KK movies and im like "where's Johnny and the cobras?" and i realize that it was just in your story. And the same thing goes for other stories too! sometimes they'll have the cobras no longer that close, or they'll just have bobby, and I'm very confused because it obvious they all care about each other.

What i really loved about Root Beer Floats and Green Tea was.. everything. I love how you were practically able to deconstruct the character and make them different, but with the same roots. I loved the effort that you put into it the research, the date ideas, the crisis' that they got through that hit a little too close to home. The fact that they get married! And i absolutely love how long it was, it felt like there was so much passion in that story.

I know you're currently working on some more fics, but i really do hope that you keep writing for as long as it makes you happy. Because it truly is an amazing way of writing. I kind of want to bind the story into an actual book (if that's okay!) just so i can have it in person.

Thank you, so much for putting your artwork out there!

Hi Anon! I'm going to start with yes, totally fine to bind any of my stories. Just please share them :D I'd love to see them. (I know Root Beer Floats and Green Tea has a lot of...errors in it. Grammar/spelling/accidental formatting issues. At one point I mispelled and merged some cobra names and thankfully was able to quickly fix that when someone pointed it out but it makes me worry about how many more of those are hiding in the forest that is that fic and my others, so feel free to fix those or reach out if you've got questions because something seems wrong but your not sure.😅I always find a new error every time I open it 😭) I feel like this should go out in general. If anyone wants to bind or create or feels inspired to create because of my work, please go ahead and just share with me the thing. I love them all. So much. I also want to say thank you. That you enjoy my work, my writing, my writing style, and that you've taken the time to send me a message. I greatly appreciate it which feels to small of a thing to say for how I feel. Honored? Happy? Neither feel quite right. But thank you nonetheless. Effort for some reason made me write a lot, so that's under the read more. I will say sometimes I get confused myself. I spent so much time working on it that I'll be like right Johnny was homeless and then nope that's not canon. 😅 So when I write other fics I have to remind myself. Really I need to do a rewatch and reset what is canon and what's in my fics.

I say this gently and with love, that writing no matter whose doing it is a huge effort. Writing is, even without meaning to, sharing a part of yourself with the void. There's this idea that you should write what you know. Which as a kid drove me nuts because I wanted to write grand adventures. But as I've gotten older and as I've written more and especially while I write my fics lately I've realized oh. Because there are pieces of me that when I'm chatting with people in the comments or elsewhere about it, or rereading it I realize oh that's something I know that's inherently personal that I didn't realize I'd shared or was working through. I mean it's not like I know karate or have a secret rivalry that's spanned however long the ones in Cobra Kai and the Karate Kid have. 🤣 I think one of the reasons I fell so hard into Cobra Kai and The Karate Kid is because it has echoed with things I feel. There's some loneliness in the pandemic and also just in life in general that stings when you watch the series. When you see Johnny Lawrence with all his friends grow up to be a lonely mess at the start of Cobra Kai. Or the fact Daniel makes friends only to lose them all by the next film, a clean slate of loneliness with the only constant being Mr. Miyagi. Not even his own mother stays by his side throughout the series.

And grief.

There's a lot of grief bubbling below the surface, touched on like a sore bruise from time to time. And I just can't seem to leave that alone. What people write varies to what interests them and who they are in the moment. I'm grieving, so I want comfort so I'm writing comfort. I grew up a scardy cat and yet when I got a little older and started writing and wrote for classes my classmates who'd been assigned to read my work would come back in horror and tell me how they had to leave the lights on that night after reading my work. (I delighted in that, one of my favorites because it stayed with them after the story ended, though I did apologize for ruining their evenings) But right now I just can't delve that deep into that same darkness. Grief sort of is preventing it. So I've circled back around to being a bit of a scardy cat. I'm fascinated by that and when I eventually expect to take a breath, take a step back and look at my old work, my original work in progresses how I will handle them? When the ground beneath my feet solidifies, what will I change? Will I knock through things that I hadn't been able to before or will I have changed so much that I don't know what to do with these things I worked so hard on for so long? I am in hiding using this karate soap opera to move forward a day at a time, to distract. So I'm grateful for it knowing that I'm also burrowing. I already love to research, already know I will lose forever googling things like bugs and random things. But when I wrote RBF&GT I thought I'd include some of them in the after chapter box because a previous fic I'd written for a different fandom once asked, can I have the recipe for this? And I thought oh. I'm already looking up stuff I might as well share it. Because it's how I separate my original work from fics, they're all food based and I research a recipes for the title food and the food included. (Not that there's not oodles of food and food research in my original works I just don't title them after food. 🤣) Then people enjoyed seeing my research so I started sharing some of it. I didn't keep all of my links. I didn't want that final box to be just the world's longest bibliography for every single chapter. Root Beer Floats and Green Tea had me double checking everything because in a way it's historical fiction. I was googling slang, I was googling what existed in that time, I was researching fashion, digging around for cosmetics used at the time, all sorts of stuff. And I shared some of it. My point here is that you never know the amount of work that goes into a fic. I share maybe a fraction of my research just because it's usually I'm trying to research for like a sentence or a word or a phrase and then I'm back to writing and I don't keep the link. And I know other writers do too. Most of my other work, my older fic work had about the same level of googling and research and no references at the bottom. So a reader would never know. Or I'd lose my links. One website I was using for flower language at the start of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea was gone by the end. Just poof. It's also because I started RBF&GT in a journaling app and there was no place to put links. I couldn't even title them. 🤣 And there wasn't an undo so occasionally I'd hit my keyboard wrong and like erase a whole paragraph or lose everything I worked on. But I liked it because I could add pictures and it's where I kept my other fics and short stories and my journaling. And I could just scroll through the pictures I'd picked and remember like all these memories. Anyway I've moved onto Scrivener. Which has like all this space for things so it's a bit easier. And also it could handle my 100K chapters without crashing unlike Google, so it wins. 🤣 I can also do stuff like this:

Which essentially means in one file I had a lot going on 🤣 (Please ignore the fact I spelled Nariyoshi wrong.) And it was so cathartic to finally close it yesterday when the last chapter went up. Anyway, you never know the amount of effort a writer is putting into their work. Writing isn't easy. A lot of the time it's staring at a screen. I've started and cut my next wip that's the Dutch/Johnny route like...a ridiculous amount of times because I haven't hit a groove yet, I haven't figured out what I want which means it's a good time to take a short break and thing about it since I haven't figured it out. And this fandom is one of my favorites. I only know the smallest amount of hard work everyone puts into the fandom. There's so much that goes unseen. Like how many drafts of the beautiful art do we not see? How many sketches? How many conversations about ideas for events, let alone the work that goes into them? The videos? The meta? All the different ways to look at the characters and relationships and how those can inspire or change the way someone else looks at them? Comments that change the writers idea? Gives them new insight or just cheers them along to continue forward? What about all the stories that get shared and then because the writer doesn't see an audience, can't hear the quiet applause walks away or takes it down and with them? I know I have quite a few things in my history that are just...gone. And I don't know what they were, but it makes me a little sad that that hard work is just gone. Writers and artists will leave for anything from big things to small things to and I really wish I could find it again, but there was a post here on Tumblr that essentially there was a quote about a writer/poet? who got laid and stopped writing 🤣 to pursue getting laid more. Which good for you dude. 🤣 But it's kind of like a whole bunch of cats chilling together and enjoying the same sunbeam and if there's any reason to leave they might just wander off. Or they might get scared off. I like to cherish this time we have together in this shared time. A cross of our paths seen or unseen and acknowledge that volunteering to get up on stage (in this case posting writing) and to share something you worked hard on for who knows how long, and who knows how much of you it contains whether the creator is even aware or not, is a vulnerable action and for a moment sharing things they love is something so absolutely wonderful. Even if it's not everyone's cup of tea. No matter what it is, it's terrifying. It's easier for some, harder for others. Heck, that Valentine's day event I did, I really wanted to do, and I sat back and second guessed myself so much. I have a little pile of cut pieces and start-stops. It's not my first work in the fandom. I requested it, and yet I got timid before sharing it. So I'm honored that you love Root Beer Floats and Green Tea and my work that it's spoiled you a bit. I love that it's echoed, hit a chord with you, that the things I decided to include, that desire for those friendships not to fade is something you also enjoy. I appreciate it. And I hope you don't mind this long...I'm not sure what it is. I just also appreciate and love the effort of everyone in this fandom. Because I never know when something will strike a cord with me, open my mind to new things or ideas and I'm grateful to everyone. It's made the world feel a little less lonely when I've needed it the most. 💖

#asks #long posts

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tottymatsuno · 1 year

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I went through the tags of that other post I reblogged and the universal answer was "if I like something it's just fine, if I reblog it then it's worth putting on my blog" which is another direct confirmation of the very thing I was paranoid of.

I also saw several "if you get your motivation tied up in the likes/reblog game then you're wrong" and advice on how reblogs are.... Advertisement? Or promotion? And not just how content is spread across the platform? Which was strange because literally if everyone only posted and liked, there would be no tumblr.

That isn't how people frame the likes and reblogs. When I reblog a post about Osomatsu’s long tits I'm not giving the op advertisement on Oso's saggy boobs? It's not like I'm promoting long cup bras 😭

Anyways, the entitlement of having new content to consume, and then not providing your half of the bargain in the way the OP would like - its at odds.

When i realized, and have been proven correct in the assumption that when a post is exclusively liked that means it isn't good enough to be reblogged

I didn't stop creating. I didn't stop writing or drawing, or really anything. There is a huge archive of things I've made that I just don't have the energy to post for 3 notes. Idk if yall ever tried to upload fics onto tumblr but it's not easy. The formsting and tumbles half baked 3 text post editors that don't accomplish anything on their own was a hassle and took forever.

I write for my friends, and I write for myself. Writing for myself was the big advice I'd been given, not to tie up my self worth with it, that I didn't need or shouldn't need the validation that came from comments & reblogs and that 4 notes was a fair exchange for four hours of effort.

But I always write & draw for myself. I just don't post it anymore. I remember people were begging me not to stop making things when the truth was they were begging me to POST what I'd been making. It felt very much like I was being a treated like a content mill instead of a person who they could be friends with. So now I have several friends I exchange/do trades for or just show my stuff too! it's pretty easy to become my friend and with just a little encouragement I'd share any and all of my works, but I upload what I don't care about or I upload stuff for my friends.

Anyways the post really reminded me that artists were correct in the assumption likes meant it wasn't good enough. Yall said so yourselves

#open_mouth.exe #That posts notes left a bad taste in my mouth.#I've taken to basically screenshotting anything nice someone said and trying to upload for that person bc that's the exchange I wanted #But like 😭😭😭 I don't go outta my way to please people who like exclusively my stuff and reblog my friends from me.

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theoriginalladya · 1 year

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I posted 3,524 times in 2022

412 posts created (12%)

3,112 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mtreebeardiles

@theoriginalladya

@shadoedseptmbr

@hunnybadgerv

I tagged 3,487 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#mass effect - 1,022 posts

#kaidan alenko - 709 posts

#nature - 615 posts

#landscape - 561 posts

#photo - 533 posts

#mshenko - 410 posts

#commander shepard - 344 posts

#ladya writes - 267 posts

#fic recommendation - 213 posts

#reblog - 199 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#once in a very blue moon i will get my first name spelled right and then it usually shocks me so badly i need to sit for a minute! lol

My Top Posts in 2022:

(commissioned art of Caleb Shepard by the fabulous @dr-vauclair-art)

In an effort to try and stir the muses awake in Caleb's ME/WWII crossover world, I've been combing through some prompt lists to see what provokes them. From the 100 Ways to Say I Love You list:

Series: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Work: Keep To the West

Chapter 7: It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway." (Read in full on AO3)

Snippet:

The glass-paned windows rattled sharply as the wind whipped against them startling Kaidan from restless slumber. Blinking through the dark, the threads of sleep reluctant to release him to the waking world, he yawned. Something stirred in his mind – part memory, part dream, yet a reminder of something that was – and he rolled to his other side, content to slip back into unconsciousness. As tired as he was from the last mission, it was easy to give in, and he nearly had until his arm met emptiness instead of the warmth of the body he expected.

He's gone…isn’t he? Lost over the side of –

Bolting upright, a surge of adrenaline raced through him, seeking and finding the weak spots within. Panic, icy and unrelenting, chilled him to the bone and all thoughts of sleep fled. The bedding fell in a tangled pool around his waist, restraining him, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. It took long moments for calm to return, for memories to sort, for reality to stake its claim once more.

Shepard…alive, returned, safe…

A soft whimper broke free of his chest and escaped his lips. So much had happened, it was difficult to discern truth and reality from the nightmares that had haunted him for months.

It wasn’t just a dream…was it? Shepard is alive…?

Read in full on AO3 here

40 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

Had the Humblebi pattern come across my dash recently and I decided to make a gift for a friend's daughter who likes bees. Fiddled with gauge and yarn (worsted weight (Red Heart Gold) and size 9 needles) to make it a bit bigger, but it knit up like a dream. I've never done a bottom-up knit before, and aside from the struggle of counting out to make sure I had enough stitches at the beginning, it was fun! Might have to make one for myself now! :)

41 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

and...voila! One Starry Night cake of yarn. The darker color bled a bit during the wash and the lighter colors aren't so bright now, but it still looks really good! Can't wait to have a chance to knit this up!

42 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

(top picture: Serafina MacKinnon and Alistair Theirin)

(bottom picture: Serafina and her twin, Sean)

Was thinking about my girl earlier today, and decided to stare at the lovely art that @xla-hainex did for me for a while.

Really hoping this means she's prepared to start talking to me again so I can get back to her story over in Dragon Age. She and her twin, Sean, have a LOT to share, and if I can finally get that done, then I might be able to get back to the two of them over in Mass Effect.

45 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy Birthday, Commander Shepard!

See the full post

105 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #oh my #it's great to see which ones were my top posts!#Especially since this latter part of the year I've been gone so much with the move and moving in

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iloveyou-writers · 2 years

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Hi, sourpatch friends. I'm in need of some encouragement.

I write both fanfics and novels. I enjoy writing them both, and I think I have a lot of original ideas in both. But my fanfics are usually, how to say this, they're not very well planned. And I don't need them to be, because if I didn't write fanfics, I wouldn't create anything. Not just because it's what got me started, but because, as a creator, I really need to create at all times, and I can work on my fanfics even when I don't feel like touching my novels. They are really helpful to me in so many ways (and I simply enjoy writing them too!)

I am happy with the way things are right now. Of course I would like my fanfics to be better and I'm working for that to happen but normally, their best part is that I don't have to write for a judging audience.

I put a lot of work on my fanfics. If I had to be honest, I spend much more time on my fanfics, but a novel is a whole other thing. Even if I wanted, I wouldn't be able to put the same effort I do into a fanfic. Not because fanfics are worse or anything, they simply don't work the same way.

Sorry for rambling so much about the details. But the problem is, a lot of my readers know I'm writing novels. This is not something I announced, it just naturally got known. (Though I don't have a large audience, it's mostly happened in author's notes and conversations in comments.) And recently someone commented on one of my fics about how they can't imagine how my novels must be if the easier stuff is "like this." It just broke my heart. I feel better now (this happened a few days ago) but this really hindered all my desire to write.

I went into my fanfic account and just tired to edit everything but of course that quickly got overwhelming and I gave up. I am filled with thoughts about how I'm wasting my time with both. I'm trying to convince myself that this is enough that I'm enjoying myself but all that I can think about is if everybody else reading my fanfics are thinking the same thing.

So I would appreciate some encouragement on this, as I can't "allow" myself to write right now. And thank you for your time, really. Just sharing this with someone helped my emotions tremendously.

Wow. First of all: how cruel and thoughtless does a person have to be to say something like this? I can understand giving constructive tips on how to improve, but to just flat-out be like "if your writing is like this..." that must have stung, and I'm so sorry someone was that rude to you.

Ignore them. They're probably not writers themselves or they're just stuck up ones. Some people just go online to hurt people and cause drama. It sounds like this might be one of those people. I'd recommend deleting the comment so you're not reminded of it every time you log on to write on that site (I'm not sure if that was here or on another writing site or what).

Remember that what makes writing "good" is completely subjective. That person may not have liked your writing, but it doesn't mean that every member of your audience won't like it. Sad to say, people that dislike something tend to be more vocal about it generally than people that like it. It's really sad but it's true. You can have 50 people read something, have 40 of them like it and 10 not. More than likely you'll have 2-3 comments from those that liked it and 4-6 from those that didn't. It's messed up but people tend to be more vocal about what they dislike than what they like. Keep your head up and remember if one person commented disliking it, it means that many more silent readers liked it.

Even if no one liked your writing, it is never a waste of time. You're honing your skill. You're sharing a piece of your soul with the world. I know it can be difficult to want to continue sharing that piece when people are shitting all over it, but you are beautiful and a blessing on this earth for doing that. Keep your head high and be proud of the fact that you had enough guts to share your writing.

Remember that person is probably miserable with their lives and lashing out at a stranger because they're too chicken shit to do it to someone they know irl. It says more about them than it says about you. I know that phrase may feel cliche but it's used so much for a reason.

Be proud of yourself. You're doing incredible things by sharing your creativity with the world. Don't let some hater squash that beauty within you. You are amazing. Even the worst of writers have something to bring to the world of creativity and a unique voice to share. So don't let some stupid person silence yours.

Thank you for sharing this and I really hope this helps you feel better.

🤍 H

#asks #Anonymous #writing advice #writing tips

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obriengf · 2 years

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Hi,

I saw your post yesterday about doubting yourself as a writer and not knowing if many people are really reading your work and it really resonated with me. I'm posting a multi chapter fic and I'm struggling to write the next chapter and it's been a while since I updated and I think is anyone even reading this? Am I agonising over something nobody is even reading? And the thought spirals are horrible.

I just wanted you to know that you're not alone and you are really talented with your writing and the feelings you feel I get it. I really do get it.

i wanted to wait until i was home before I answered this ask

first of all - thank you so incredibly much for sending this through. i would love to interact with people more on this site, and you've finally given me the opportunity!

it's oddly settling and upsetting to know that other people are experiencing this situation. i certainly know that I am not alone in this boat, which makes it much more frustrating. it really is challenging to find motivation these days in a writing community. this isn't a job, it's a hobby, and I need to continue reminding myself that - but the effort and love and time you pour into writing and creating stories just makes it that much more personal, and you want it to be perfect. you need that reassurance, feedback, and criticism from readers and friends so you know that you're on some kind of right track.

i love to write. i love exercising my imagination and challenging myself on constructing these different worlds. i love bringing happiness and satisfaction and angst to readers who also find distraction in these worlds. but you've hit the nail on the head... is anyone even reading this?

i don't want to whine - honestly, I don't, but I also feel like I need to express how I'm feeling because if I don't then I'll probably go coo coo bananas. the hardest part is seeing other writers get so much attention within minutes about their work. the notes certainly speak for themselves when it comes to these writers, and they are so incredibly lucky to have people CONSTANTLY message them with praises for their work, and wishes for more, and that damn feedback that I would sell a damn kidney for.

i'm dependent and needy i need constant reassurance otherwise I spiral and it's seriously my biggest downfall

it's not as if i'm left alone in the dark - I do come across messages and feedback that make me so warm and fuzzy and I am always so appreciative of it. i just have personal issues when it comes to whether I should even continue writing, and I have a phobia of disappointment. and the lack of interaction makes me feel that I'm not only disappointing readers, but mostly myself.

thank you, dear anon, for offering some of your voice and for allowing me to speak more of my own.

#answered #long post

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

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pearlcaddy · 2 years

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Just a wee reminder for whomever needs it that fandom awards don’t say anything about the quality of your fanworks or how much your fanworks are loved and treasured.

Fandom awards are about which fanworks people happen to remember when it comes time for nominations. They’re about who knows that awards are happening, who encourages people to vote, and who participates in voting. About what kinds of categories are created for awards and how neatly fanworks fit into them and what types of fanworks tend to get the most attention. About popularity and metrics and timing and a lot of random things that have absolutely nothing to do with the care and love that went into creating your fanworks, and that others derive from your work.

The fanworks I treasure the most aren’t the kind that win fandom awards.

The fanworks I loved making the most aren’t the kind that win awards.

The work I’m proudest of and the fandom experiences that mean the most to me simply can’t be captured by awards.

The plodding, painstaking hours of effort that make someone read a piece of writing and call it effortless, or look at a gif and think, “That’s what that shot looked like in the show.”

The fights with Photoshop or tumblr or Word or words that become inside jokes among creators.

The feelings I evoke for myself and, on very flattering occasions, for my readers. The feelings that other people’s fanworks evoke in me.

The jerky, slow motion gifs that call attention to details that sleeker, normal speed gifs tend to swallow.

The aspects of myself and my life that I discover through writing.

The moments when fics, gifs, meta, art, etc. spark a feral frenzy amongst fandom friends.

The squeals I let out when a favorite fic updates, or a favorite edit/art/meta series gets a new installment, or a favorite creator mentions that they’re working on something new.

The niche fanworks that make you feel like you’re glimpsing someone’s soul or showing them your own.

The comments from readers saying that my fanworks have helped or influenced them, in whatever little ways they have. Getting to tell other people that their fanworks have helped or influenced me.

The sighs and giggles and tears that come out when I remember a beloved moment from a fanwork, even years after I encountered it.

The absolutely vital stream of happiness and pride and comfort that creating fanworks and experiencing everyone else’s has given me over the past couple of years.

There is love and pride and artistry (even the clunky, amateur artistry of something like my gifmaking) woven into every second that I have spent making my own fanworks or enjoying yours. Awards are like yearbook superlatives—if you get them, you might briefly smile to yourself when you remember them years later. But the wonder and fondness and joy that you feel for a piece of media, for fandom friends, for fanworks that you made or experienced? That’s the kind of deep, lasting impact that weaves laugh lines onto people’s faces.

For the rest of my life, I’ll be wearing that joy that our fanworks have brought me on my body, and there’s no award that can ever capture that.

#this isn't meant to be discourse or anything #just some fanworks appreciation for everyone who brightens my dash or my ao3 #fandom #fandom awards #pearlcaddy.txt

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genshin-impacted · 3 years

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gift giving // Diluc x Reader

notes: first-person POV, gender-neutral reader, you have a best friend, diluc is lowkey a sugar-daddy; very different format from my usual writing (no capitalization); I assure you I know how to capitalize but not in this fic

wc: ~1300

insp.

diluc offers me something small at first; a trinket that reminds him of me and i feel endeared because he thought of me. and he keeps giving me gifts, sometimes by hand and others via delivery. and each one grows more expensive than the other. it goes from a simple hair tie to a pearled broach to diamond inlaid slippers, all delivered on our shared doorstep with nothing but his name as the sender.

i don't know what to think. i was flattered by his attention and now i'm confused on what this all means when he has yet to talk to me about anything. and without talking to me, i don't know his intentions and it's hard not to think about ulterior motives even if its someone like diluc.

back when this first started, i brought up gift reciprocity but its so hard to buy something for him when he can buy anything u can get for him. he seems to be surprised at first that i even offered, like that didn't even come to mind that i would get him smth that reminds me of him. he says i don't need to, and asks me how i like the hair tie i'm wearing that he gifted. my response only encourages his behavior, his feelings for me (and for me adorning his gifts) only growing.

but now with gifts far too pricey, there's just no way i can buy anything of equal value, and that makes me uncomfortable because it makes me feel like i might have to offer smth else in return. (diluc doesn't expect anything back at all; he truly just wants to shower his person of affection with riches he never really cared for but now that he can buy something for someone he cares about it's a little addicting.)

i address this issue with my best friend and they meet diluc when he walks to the doorway to drop something off for me-- something more modest, thank god, they think, but they have to ask anyway. "diluc, why don't you deliver these in person?" not the exact question they want to ask but they figure they can build up to it.

"i don't always come at the most convenient of times," he points out. "i don't think many are awake at dawn or in the dead of night."

"you'd be surprised," they say. "we're usually awake at night so you should try coming then." instead of leaving things in the doorway, they want to add.

diluc blinks and the grip on his gift tightens. "visiting someone so late at night, well-" and to their surprise, his cheeks redden, as though he's more embarrassed by the notion of visiting someone he's sweet on after dusk than his rather conspicuous and abundant spoiling with material goods. they never chalked master diluc up as an ostentatious man, and now you think maybe he doesn't realize how his actions may look if that's the reaction you get for suggesting something relatively harmless like a visit (late or not).

"i think they would like it a lot if u hand-delivered your gifts at least," they say, getting into the crux of the problem. when he shifts, they quickly suggest, "or maybe leave a letter saying... anything? it would be nice for her to hear from you i think."

my best friend will have to profusely refuse a thank-you gift for your advice, but they receive a gift in tow anyways despite their best efforts. (having your best friend being doted on by the richest bachelor in town had its perks after all.)

letters come with the gifts. (and i must have talked to him about the luxury items because they are less costly now, though some of them still peak with price.) my best friend come back home to see me rereading and pouring over the letters he wrote me. he writes formally, his words more like a medieval lord than anything he's done so far, and it is not difficult to swoon over the subtle way he shares his day with me and read what i hope is his feelings for me in-between the lines

gifts are not my love language. i fumble with gift giving when it comes to the way diluc can spoil me, and i can never win against him (not as though i can lose either). but i try my best to create something for him before i can go and ask for his time, which i find invaluable above all else.

it is a mini project i undertake, making two albums for him and me. one to keep all his letters and flowers pressed into the pages and the other for pictures of the past, present, and hopefully future.

on days i meet up with him, i always purposely wear something he has given me. his attention on me is always rapt, his red eyes trailing after me like i'm the most captivating thing in mondstadt, and it makes me feel small and big all at once-- shy and confident. for this one, i wear the hair tie he's given me and deliver the gift.

he is speechless. (i assume he likes it.)

then i let myself explain how i feel about the gifts. "what do you think of me?" i ask. "i want to know for sure so i can make sense of the gifts."

"make sense?" he echoes.

"yeah. i love my friends and i would love to gift them all types of things, and you're doing the same thing but... i want to know in what way. is it the same way or is it different?" i continue. "you... like seeing me in the things you buy for me right? in what way?"

"i want to spoil you," diluc says simply. "is that strange?" he reaches out to my hair, tied up in that hairtie of his, and i cannot look at him in the eyes.

"in what way?" i ask again and dare to glance back up.

he breathes out slowly. "in any way you want."

i squeeze my hands, urging me to be brave. "in that case, would you go on a date with me then? for dinner?" you pause. "I'm paying." when he intends to protest, i quickly rebut, "i need to share in the costs or i'll go insane, diluc, please. or tell me at least how i can-"

"dinner," diluc says, and i marvel at the way he blushes, “that would be..."

"good?" i supply playfully.

"...more than good," he finishes. the small smile he gives me relaxes me immediately.

"i cant be bought," i say to him quietly.

"i know." he says, "that was never my intention."

"i need you to let me know how to spoil you too."

"you already are," diluc says, eyes flickering to the hairtie, and when he lifts my sleeve up just enough to see the bracelet he gave me also, his gaze lingers on my wrist.

i flush under his undivided attention; i always do. "i- that cant be all," i stammer nervously, the poise i came with to confront him out the window when i feel his gloved fingers press against the tender part of my pulse.

"we can think of other ways," he says, and his eyes are intense as always. i feel myself burn in his gaze. "always in your comfort. always."

"okay," i say, small, but in a good way, like he always makes me feel whenever he looks at me as though there can be no one else like me. it makes my head light. "I'm looking forward to it," i say, and he looks at me curiously, "to spoiling each other.”

"me too," he says, and he means it, just as much as each gift meant something when given to me-- that i can understand now.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #diluc/reader #diluc ragnivindr #diluc brainrot still on high

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tlcwrites · 3 years

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If you need the reminder, you are awesome and you are talented and you deserve to be here just as much as anyone; give yourself the self five, cause you fucking rock. 💕

I am horrible at accepting compliments. I don’t allow myself to believe praise because I feel like if I do, I’m being vain or egotistical, or that I’m somehow putting others down by being proud of myself. I also feel like it’s an issue for women more than for men thanks patriarchy. And I KNOW I’m not the only one who feels that way because 1) I’ve talked to some of you about the topic and 2) I’ve seen plenty of you deflect kudos the same way I do.

We’ve got to stop doing that. There is nothing wrong with taking pride in our accomplishments. Take the victory lap! Own your talent! Channel your inner Megan Rapinoe! Have confidence in your skills! There’s room for all of us in the winner’s circle! So many sports analogies because I’ve been watching too many Olympic highlights but hey if the shoe fits! You rock and it’s okay to love your own work! Why else would you put so much effort into making it, if you didn’t love it?

So even though probably only like six of you will even see this, please: be shamelessly proud of your own work. Reblog that fic you wrote, reblog that gif you created, reblog your artwork; YOU ARE AMAZING and deserve to be proud of your own creations without feeling ashamed.

#I know I already said a lot of this when I reblogged my Kylo story earlier #but I think it’s important enough for it’s own post #moral on here has been in the shitter #and y’all always pump me up so much #we need to spread that kind of love #now I just need to take my own advice #spread positivity #you rock

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madslorian · 3 years

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weekly fic recs!

More recommendations! Everybody seems to love the very first one I posted, which is amazing!!! Everything I have recommended can be found on my {fic rec masterlist}.

Here are all the amazing writers I have included in this weeks recs:

@forever-rogue

@gryffindorwriter

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@dindjarindiaries

@frannyzooey

@opheliaelysia

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

@winchesterxxi

@pedros-mustache

@pedro-pascal-love

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Frankie “Catfish” Morales}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY FOREVER-ROGUE

Reader and Frankie have been friends for many years and it's finally come to the point where emotions are taking over and you can't sit there and act like you're just friends anymore.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Agent Whiskey / Jack Daniels}⊰

“I TRUSTED YOU." / "I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM WITHOUT YOU." BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Takes place during Whiskey's final scene of the movie, but reader has some words to say to him that talk him down

TRUST BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After the reader and Whiskey have a few drinks together before Whiskey's next mission, they share a quick kiss. When Whiskey is shot the next day, there's only one thing that reader can think of to restore his memory

MEMORY BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader loses her memory when she gets shot and despite the agency's efforts to recover them, they seem to be lost for good much to Whiskey's dismay. So he replicates their first date again

MISCOMMUNICATION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Ginger tells Whiskey that reader has been shot and killed on a mission, the pain of losing yet another love begins to settle in when suddenly you're stumbling through the agency doors injured

SCREW TRADITION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

It's the reader and Whiskey's wedding day and reader is having a panic attack before the ceremony. Jack doesn't give it a second thought before he's rushing through the doors to help alieve all the stress and emotions

REGRETS BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After a mission goes wrong and Whiskey and reader are facing impending death, they miraculously survive and Whiskey is intrigued when the reader mentions not wanting to have died with regrets

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME." / "H-HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confides in Ginger when a pregnancy test comes back positive, and stresses over Jack not wanting kids after what happened with his first wife and their child

*SLEEPY SEX BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

NSFW! Reader and Whiskey admit to the sexual tension between them one night during a mission, and as you can assume, smut ensues!

“[CHOKED UP] I THOUGHT I LOST YOU." / “[CHOKED UP] I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE YOU AGAIN" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader is out shopping at a store when Jack sees on the news there was a shooting there, and he immediately rushes to find you with fears of what happened to his high school sweetheart flooding his mind

“WHO ATE ALL THE ADVENT CALENDAR CHOCOLATES?!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confronts Whiskey about the empty advent calendar only four days into December, and he sends you on a wild goose chase to distract you. Overall the cutest fluff ever!

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader and Whiskey get into an argument after reader spends more time at work recently. He changes his attitude pretty quickly when you turn to walk out into the cold night

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Javier Peña}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

Okay, think Frankie's version of this prompt (if you read it!)... but a complete 180º. This has a lot of angst and it just makes me realize how much poor Javier needs a hug, desperately.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Din Djarin}⊰

SNACK TIME BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 6 of Mandoctober by this author. Absolute fluff between Din and Grogu where dad!Din has to teach Grogu to not play with his food

RAZOR CREST BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 7 of Mandoctober by the author. As Din grows closer with the reader, the term home is something he begins to feel properly identifies what the Razor Crest is for the three of you

AD'IKA BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 10 of Mandoctober by the author. This follows Din's usage of the word Ad'ika, or little one, towards Grogu and how the child responds to it

COZY IN THE COCKPIT BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Reader is badly injured when the Razor Crest takes a beating, and in order to save you from hypothermia, Din locks the three of you in the cockpit and cleans up your wounds while Grogu attempts to help too

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Pike}⊰

THE RISING SUN BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

A short story about the reader suffering from depression and anxiety, but has Marcus by their side to face it all. A someone who has been in a (scarily) similar situation to this, it was so comforting hearing the things I both needed to hear and wish I would have heard from my previous s/o

"IF YOU THROW THAT SNOWBALL, THAT MEANS WAR" BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

This is absolutely, 100%, pure fluff. Reader and Marcus are having a fun snow day with their two kids and I melted reading this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Dave York}⊰

*WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD (SERIES) BY PEDRO-PASCAL-LOVE

NSFW! This story awoke something in me... a new interest in Dave x Nanny stories. It follows the events of Equalizer 2, just with the reader added into the plot

(ALSO I AM SO EXCITED THE AUTHOR IS CONTINUING THIS STORY... Y'ALL NEED TO GIVE IT A SHOT!!!)

*DAVE YORK X NANNY DRABBLES/ASKS BY FRANNYZOOEY

NSFW! I found this shortly after finishing Well, This Is Awkward and I love it. These are all drabbles/asks the reader has gotten about certain situations regarding Dave and the Nanny!Reader. It's all the right amount of spice in all the right places

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Ezra}⊰

*AKRASIA BY OPHELIAELYSIA

NSFW! Reader and Ezra are locked down in their ship before being able to dock and part ways. With sexual tension building, there is only so much time left to do something about it

HOLD ON TO THESE WORDS BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader struggles with insomnia and late-night anxieties, meaning Erza never finds himself waking up beside you. However, one night he wakes to you lost in your own mind and comforts you

WILDFLOWER BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader is exploring nature one morning before Ezra wakes up and is greeted with the sight of beautiful flowers, which remind you of your lover in the sweetest ways possible

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Pero Tovar}⊰

*CLANDESTINE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero cross paths when Pero is hired for protection in your kingdom before the King arrives for a festival. Lots of small glances and hidden love-making in the dark shadows make for something sweet yet forbidden

*LIKE THOSE FOREIGN STARS BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero are married, but for most of your marriage, he has been off selling his sword. When he is gone for much longer than originally intended on one job, his arrival back home calls for a passionate reunion on the kitchen table, and the floor, and the bed...

*RAISE YOUR HAND TO ME AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR HEART OUT MYSELF BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

NSFW! WARNING: SUGGESTED DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/SPANKING DISCIPLINE, I felt like that was needed before recommending it.

Disclaimer: This is a glorious Outlander AU, but I think it can be read without any knowledge of the show. Reader and Pero are married due to a deal to keep you safe as you travel with him and the other men, and when you step out of line he is expected to reprimand you as your husband. Pero ends up having a change of heart as to what being a husband means to the two of you

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Poe Dameron}⊰

MARRIED TO A SKYWALKER BY WINCHESTERXXI

Adorable headcanons about how life would be if reader was a Skywalker/Solo kid and how interactions would be with Leia and Han

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Oberyn Martell}⊰

DORNISH DELIGHTS (Part 1) (Part 2) BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

A modern AU where Oberyn owns and runs a shop called Dornish Delights and reader has quickly become one of his favorite customers. There's a strong sense of comfort when picturing this shop and I desperately wish I could go there and be loved by Oberyn like this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Moreno}⊰

FIDDLE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

An adorable fic about reader fiddling with Marcus' wedding ring beginning on their honeymoon. After ten years reader is worried he is annoyed by it, but all is well in the end

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Max Phillips}⊰

WITH CHERRIES ON TOP (SERIES) BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

I am still actively reading this and am only a couple of chapters in, BUT IT'S A PROPOSAL AU! Brief rundown if you don't know the movie, WITHOUT giving anything major away; The boss is getting deported and creates a fake engagement with the assistant! It's really fun to see this plot with Max plugged into it

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missdawnandherdusk · 3 years

Text

A Bad Day

Draco X Reader

Requested: @eve-mal1 Can you do a fluffy Draco where you’ve had a rly bad day and he comforts you x💕

A/n: Okay, so Draco might be the cause of your terrible day, but he had good reason okay? Post-War fic and some forbidden love sprinkled in there as well. Love you guys lots, let me know that you think.

I walked out to the top of the stairs and a large round of applause erupted. I took a deep breath and smiled softly, putting on a charade. I could do this. Everyone staring at me as I descended the stairs, putting in all of my effort not to fall flat on my face.

Ron came up beside me, to escort me. “Harry canceled last minute, he sends his regards,”

“What?” I squeaked. “But... he was supposed to...”

Harry was the reason that I had even allowed this stupid Gala to take place. He was the one who convicted me that I deserved it. Or at least that everyone deserved a bit of a break and to celebrate whatever they could. It was the reason I was in this constricting dress and pinching shoes with a hairstyle that could only induce a migraine.

“I know, but we need to go before people begin to get worried,” Ron urged.

“Right,”

Taking his arm, we mingled.

“This is... ridiculous,” I decided, among the throng of people, all congratulating and thanking me and Ron for our efforts in the war.

“Why do you think I’ve avoided them for so long?” Ron muttered.

The night was a blur for the most part, there were warm smiles and dancing, most of which I avoided for quite some time. Ron and I had gotten separated after a while and I was left alone. He no doubt went to find Hermione, and I didn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Miss Y/l/n,” A warm voice welcomed me.

I was met with dark brown eyes and a charming smile.

“Just Y/n, thank you,” I offered a polite smile.

“I came to congratulate you. You are a brave woman,” The man took my hand and kissed it.

“Thank you, I just did my job, that was all,” I blushed and looked down, feeling awkward.

“Do not downplay your achievements, it truly remarkable what you’ve done for this country,”

“Thank you,” I felt the blush on my face grow stronger and the need to flee growing stronger. For better or worse, I was given an out.

The glass of the great hall shattered black robes and masked figured flooding into the Gala. Amongst the screams and chaos, I drew my wand, ready. My eyes met Ron’s from across the way the same determination in his eyes. I lost him in the fray, throwing hexes and spells to take down as many black cloaked figures as I could. Yet, with each Death Eater I took down, five more took its place.

Caught off guard, I was grabbed from behind. One hand covering my mouth, another grabbing the wrist of the hand that held my wand. The vice grip didn’t let me protest or break free.

“Come with me quietly, or your friends die,” There was something in his voice that I couldn’t place.

But I had no choice. We had just gotten through a war alive. I wouldn’t let their deaths come as a cause of my stubbornness. I went with the cloaked and hooded figure.

The assailant took me with him while Apperating. I barely found my bearings before I fell to the floor. The first thing I did was ditch the death traps that were my shoes. Then I turned on my aggressor, who had made the mistake of letting me go, wand still in hand.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you!” I shouted, my wand poised and aimed at him.

My kidnapper laughed, throwing down his hood, taking off his mask. I gasped. Silvery blond hair and cool grey eyes greet me. Grey eyes that held mischief.

“That reason enough?” Draco chuckled, throwing his mask onto a nearby bookshelf.

“You,” I growled, tightening my grip on my wand. “You...” There wasn’t an insult large enough to the anger I was feel.

“Put down the wand Y/n, you’re not going to hurt me,” Draco raised an eyebrow at me, his black cloak shrugged off and cast aside.

“But you! And the Gala! My friends! Those people!” I yelled.

“Are all perfectly fine.” The glint in Draco’s eye let me know that he knew something that I didn’t. It aggravated me to death.

“What game are you playing Malfoy?” I hissed. “We agreed,”

“We did,” He made his way toward me, taking the wand from my hand. “I missed you too,”

Sighing I gave in, allowing him to pull me into an embrace. It felt good to be home in his arms. It had been too long. I could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, reminding me to steady myself.

“What were you thinking?” I whispered into his shoulder. “All of that for a few moments together? They’re going to come after you. You’ll have to hide again, and it’ll be even longer until we can see each other,”

He drew away, cradling my face in one of his hands. “No, I won’t,” A smile rested on his lips.

“What do you mean no you won’t?” I demanded, pushing out of his reach. “Death Eaters just attacked a post-war Gala! You kidnapped me! Merlin, they’re going to think I’m in actual danger!” My voiced reached a point of hysterics. “Draco what the hell were you thinking!?” The gravity of the situation weighed on me heavily.

“Hey, will you calm down for two seconds?” Draco took a step toward me.

“No! I will not calm down!” I shouted at him, “Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic things you could have done!”

“I told you she would yell,” A new voice chimed in and my eyes met amused green ones and a tangle of raven curls. “We should have told her,”

“We needed to make it look real,” Draco refuted. “And she never would have agreed.”

“Harry?” I sputtered. “But... you... you ditched me!” I was back to yelling, jabbing a finger accusingly at him. “And you seriously let him go through with this plan!? I know you’re both daft, but this is low for the both of you!”

“She’s got quite a mouth on her,” Harry chuckled.

“Give her a minute, she’ll come round,” Draco grinned, looking at me, expectant.

“Refer to her in third person again and you’ll have bigger problems than my fury,” I hissed. “Now what the hell is going on!?”

“Are you ready to listen?” Draco asked, calmly—condescendingly.

“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

“Oh good,” Ron burst through the door, “Hermione and I are in, everything else is taken care of.”

“Ron knew!?” I demanded. “Did everyone but me know!?”

Ron slowly backed away, and Draco chuckled, coming toward me again, with no fear that I might take a swing at him. It was a serious consideration.

“Harry, leave us for a moment?” Draco requested softly. The chosen one left without another word.

“Draco, what’s going on?” My anger had passed, and now I was scared and confused with more questions that loomed with the weight of the world than answers.

He took a deep breath in and pulled me to a loveseat in the sitting room we were in. I laid my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” I whispered. “Just tell me what’s going on,”

“Harry and your other friends decided to help me getting back to you in a safe way that wouldn’t threaten either of our lives,” Draco began, shushing me when I began to argue back. “The Gala was put on with a few strings pulled from Harry and Hermione. Some of the attenders will remember the Death Eater attack, but most won’t. Those who do remember will test as if their memories had been altered, not the other way around,”

“Hermione?” I mused.

“Yours truly,” He grinned. “Give me a little credit, there’s only so long that I can stay away from you before I start to get creative. I figured out the spell a week ago. Hermione and I tested it on Ron and Harry. It worked.”

“You... created a spell for me?” I gaped up at him, settling into a warm smile. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and continued. Wandless magic began to undo my hair, and I could only guess that Draco was the cause.

“So, all we needed was you there and ready. Those who do remember would have seen kidnapped by yours truly, the other will think you’ve moved to America to escape the horrors of war,” He gestured here and there with his words.

“But that would mean that some wizards are thinking that I was kidnapped by a Death Eater,” I pointed out the flaw.

“Well, until it comes up in the Daily Prophet that you’re in America safe and sound, putting the entire thing to rest.” His victorious smile made me give up on the notion of any argument against his plan. If he believed it would work, then so would I.

“Any other questions?” He mused, standing.

“Why didn’t Harry show?” I pondered, letting him lead me down the halls of the Manor to our usual shared room.

“Because his word would be the end all be all. And it would create more rumors and conspiracies, and it was easier for him to miss the event all together,”

Draco opened the door to the en suite bathroom, revealing a warm bath and a dozen lit candles. The warm atmosphere wrapped around me like a thick blanket. Draco pressed a kiss to my temple.

“Go ahead and unwind. I’ll be waiting,” He promised, leaving me alone.

Scrubbing off the makeup and washing the hairspray and gel from hair, I felt a bit more like me. The bath must have been charmed to stay warm because though I spent quite some time processing and unwinding, it remained warm. But there came a time that I had to leave the warm silky water and make my way to Draco.

In one of his old t-shirts and sweats, I wrapped a house coat around myself and ventured out. Though, he wasn’t waiting in the bedroom like I thought he would be. Frowning I padded out into the hall, leaning over the banister, searching for some sign of life in the large house. And it proved useful because I heard the faintness of music coming from the great room. Making my way down the stairs I found Draco at the piano, playing softly. A melody that belonged to me. With the hearth ablaze and candles lit, the scene was enchanting.

“Dray?” I asked softly, not wanting to scare him.

“Have a nice bath?” He asked, coming over to me, his attire close to mine. I nodded.

“Did everyone leave?” I asked, looking at the large empty warm room.

“They thought maybe we’d want some time to ourselves.” He smiled leading me to the large sofa where blankets and pillows greeted us.

“They’d be right,” I smiled, curling up with him.

His arms wrapped around me, one hand drifting to my hair and running through the damp tresses. I laid my head back on his shoulder.

“You really put me through a hell of a day,” I muttered.

“I know, I’m sorry,” He murmured, kissing the top of my head. “But it had to work. I couldn’t stand another moment without you,”

A smile touched my lips. A house elf came with mugs of warm tea and assorted biscuits and sweets. I raised an eyebrow and Draco smiled, switching on the large TV that I had convinced him to install as a familiar melody of a favorite movie of mine began to play.

“Really laying it on thick, are we?” I laughed, settling down into the comfort of his arms and the pillows around us.

“You said it, I put you through a hell of a day. I figured I’d have to make it up to you,” With ease Draco pulled me into his lap, holding me closer.

“Even without all of this, you did manage to get us safe and sound together and I owe you a lot for that,” I intertwined my fingers with his. He held to my hand tightly.

“I had at least three ulterior motives,” He smirked down at me, causing me to roll me eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you did it regardless,”

“Anything to get back to you, my love.”

As the movie progressed, I sang softly to the songs on screen, eventually hearing Draco faint baritone harmonize with my gentle melody. And for that moment, I was certain, no matter what the day threw at me—be it Death Eaters and a stuffy Gala—I’d go through it all for Draco.

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