#also I’ve got a 3 page essay to write and I’ve only gotten…

[misty-zzz]

I'm so sorry I had to restart my computer like 3 times

Ermm it’s fine! It was still fun, even though this round was kinda short

[sallow-tales]

Strong and Sweet – Garreth Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: Modern coffee shop AU; The ever lovely Garreth Weasley catches your eye from behind the counter of your local cafe. Pure fluff.

A/n: Once I got this idea into my head, it would not leave, so here we are. It's been edited, but only lightly. This is genuinely the longest fic I've ever written, I'm usually a sucker for short and sweet, but not in this case. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral, but once again let me know if you catch a mistake. Also, the topic of the paper is incredibly self indulgent. With love, your friendly neighborhood anthro major <3

Word Count: 2897

You let out a sigh, fingers pressing almost painfully to your temples as you stared at the screen in front of you. You’d been trying to write this damned essay for hours, but the words didn’t seem to want to get out of your brain and onto the page. Not to mention that nearly every potential source you found was useless to you for one reason or another. 

The article currently open on your computer began to swim in front of your eyes, words blurring together as you tried to read them. As much as you wished you could take a break, you’d procrastinated this paper for far longer than you should have, and you were now to the point of questioning if you’d even be able to get it done before the due date. The due date, you realized, that was now only six hours away. Why’d your professor have to be special and make things due at 10pm on a Tuesday, instead of midnight on a Sunday like a normal person?

Dragging yourself out of your train of thought took more effort than you’d have liked as you once again tried to read through someone else’s science. You were slightly more successful this time, but once you’d gotten through the next three paragraphs, you let out a frustrated groan. There was no sense to this study–it ignored nearly all precedent and was trying to test a theory that anyone with common sense would know to be impossible. 

You slammed your computer shut in mild frustration and closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm yourself down, only for your meditation attempt to be interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Careful now, doll. If you get much more frustrated you might start throwing things, and as much as I love having you here, I’d hate having to clean that up.” Your eyes open and you glance up to look at the redheaded boy standing over you

Your face relaxes as your gaze lands on him. You couldn’t be stressed when he was smiling at you like that.

The two of you had first met in this very coffee shop at the beginning of the term–him behind the register and you desperately needing some caffeine to get through your first week of classes.

“Give me something strong,” you’d said when you walked up, and he’d given you a playful salute in response.

“Yes ma’am, one americano coming right up.” 

His playful demeanor and charming smile had you grinning right back at him despite your exhaustion. When he’d handed you your drink, though, you couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed your face. You needed the caffeine, but boy did you hate the bitter taste that it left on your tongue.

“You should have told me you didn’t like it straight when I took your order.” You weren’t expecting to hear his voice and you looked back at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You asked for something strong, but you didn’t have to take my first suggestion if you knew it wasn’t something you’d enjoy. Tell me what sorts of flavors you like and I can make you something you’ll actually drink.” You could tell he was eager to make you something new, though you weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to like it or if he just wanted to show off; either way, you rattled off your usual order, and some likes and dislikes, answering his questions when he asked and before you knew it you had a brand new cup in front of you.

This time when you took a sip, you practically moaned. It was spectacular. “How the hell did you do that? I don’t think I’ve ever had something this good in my life.”

His cheeky grin widened. “What can I say, I’m great at what I do. Though if you’d told me from the get-go that you like it strong and sweet, I could have just given you my number and been done with it.” His wink that followed sent flames through your cheeks and you’d turned your head to try and hide them.

Despite his flirtatious remark upon your initial meeting, nothing more had ever happened. Well, except for you developing one of the biggest crushes you think you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Against your better judgment (and to the chagrin of your wallet), you found yourself back in that cafe nearly every single day, always hoping to see his green eyes glittering at you from across the room. You knew the crush was stupid, but you didn’t blame yourself for it. How could you? It wasn’t your fault he was so ridiculously charming, and handsome, and kind. Nor was it your fault that he somehow always seemed to know exactly the drink you needed for your current mood–after that first day, you’d never had him hand you something unsavory again… well, at least that was intended to be enjoyable.

Every once in a while you’d come in during a particularly slow spell, when there was no one else around and Garreth–alongside his coworkers–were clearly extremely bored. It was days like these when you’d get to try his little experiments.

You’d see him furrow his brow, deep in thought, and then wander from place to place in the store, tossing various syrups, powders, and milks together in incredibly interesting combinations. Yes, interesting was definitely the word to describe them; sometimes they were spectacular, but other times… not so much.

“Oh my god, Gar, this is absolutely disgusting.” 

He had called you over a few moments prior, insisting you try his most recent mixture. You didn’t know what was in it, but it wasn’t good. It was almost slimy in texture, and the flavor certainly left something to be desired. Through your wince, you saw the twinkle in his eye. The bastard knew it wasn’t going to be good but he had you try it anyway.

Attempting to hide the grin that threatened to poke through, his face had twisted into a look of mock betrayal. “How could you say such a thing? I poured my heart and soul into this. You wound me, love.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at the nickname but you did your best to play it off, grinning at him. “Well, perhaps you should pour a little less of it next time, that might help with the texture issue.” He’d scoffed at you playfully, and the memory of his playful expression is still one of your favorites.

His expression was eerily similar as he stood beside your little table, eying the books you had spread about from your research. 

“Garreth! I didn’t realize you were here, I never saw you walk in.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been here for hours. I would’ve said hello earlier, but you looked focused and I didn’t want to bother you. However,” he paused, “it was about time for my break and I noticed you looked only inches away from violence, so I figured I should come intervene. Distract you with my relentless charm and all that.” His grin was contagious, and you found yourself smiling fondly at him.

“You should well know by now that I’m a pacifist,” you quipped back. “Violence would never be my first reaction. You wouldn’t have anything to worry about until after I’ve wallowed in self despair for at least 30 minutes.” He sat down in the chair opposite you and it’s not until he placed the cup and plate on the surface in front of you that you realized he’d been holding them. “What’s this?”

“A refill, and some sustenance. Figured you could use them, based on the fact that I haven’t seen you move in the entire time I’ve been here.” Your heart gives a little squeeze at the gesture as you take in the items. He had, in fact, brought you another coffee and the pastry that he by now knew to be your favorite.

“I can’t accept this, Garreth. I didn’t pay for them.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Don’t bother resisting, you know I won’t stop pestering you until you’ve eaten.” 

You relented with a sigh, taking a bite. “Happy now?” you mumbled.

He smirked at you. “Happier. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s frustrating you so much. Maybe clearing your mind of it will help you make some progress.”

You proceeded to rant to the ginger about the articles you’d been reading, the roadblocks you’d been encountering, and the various other issues you’d been having.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult for people to have some common sense, y’know? It’s not so hard to realize ‘Hey, perhaps if you can’t sex an individual via this bone without population specific numbers, perhaps we shouldn’t try to sex an individual of an entirely different species.’ You’d think that’d be easy!” Garreth nodded along, a small smile playing at his lips. “And this one!” you gestured to an article on your computer, which you’d reopened part-way through your rant to show him evidence of your problems, “in this one, they try and argue that grave goods can be used to accurately sex an individual, which might be fine in some populations, but it’s a know fact that gender and sex variance is a common occurrence in this population.”

You finally paused to take a breath, and you realized that you didn’t really have much more to say. “And… and yeah that’s about it actually. There you have it.” You glanced up at his face, mildly surprised by the expression he harbored. It seemed to be a combination of amusement and… fondness?

“I do hope you know I don’t know what any of that means. Do you feel better though?” He rested his chin on his hand, hair falling just slightly in front of his face.

You immediately nodded in response. “Yeah, actually. Loads. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, love. Now, I do believe my break is over, so I should get back to it, but good luck on your paper. I believe in you.” A wink was sent in your direction before he turned and walked back behind the counter, deftly tying his apron behind his back.

With that, you dove back into writing. You were almost surprised at how much easier the words came to you now that you’d gotten all the swirling irritations out of your brain–before you knew it, you’d surpassed the page minimum, wrapped up all your thoughts, and read through it a few times to make sure there weren’t any errors. Thoroughly pleased with your work, you grinned and threw your hands up. “I’m done!” You turned your head around, searching for the smile Garreth was surely throwing in your direction. You weren’t surprised to find you were correct. “And with…” you turned back to check the time, “45 minutes to spare!”

Wait a second…

45 minutes to spare… that meant that it was 9:15. You turned to glare accusingly at Garreth.

“Don’t you guys close at 9?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Technically, yeah. I was supposed to kick you out 15 minutes ago. But you looked so focused and I could tell you were close to done. I didn’t wanna be the reason you lost your stride. Besides,” his usual cocky grin came back to his face. “I’m not sure you could rob this place if you tried.”

The boy turned back to mopping the floor, ignoring your huffed “hey” in response. You began packing up your belongings in a hurry, trying to get out of his hair as quickly as possible. Despite your efforts, though, he had still managed to finish closing before you were completely ready to go. 

“I’m so sorry Gar, I really should have been paying closer attention to the time. I didn’t mean to be an imposition.” You rushed the words out as you exited the building in front of him. His only response at first was a small huff of amusement.

His words came a minute later as he turned back to lock the door to the building behind him. “As if you could ever be an imposition. Any time spent in your presence is time well spent.” You couldn’t even begin to process what those words meant as you took in the parking lot, empty except for one single car. A string of curses swiftly left your lips. If you’d thought yourself stupid earlier when you struggled to write your paper, it was nothing compared to how stupid you’d felt in that moment.

You’d completely forgotten that you’d taken the bus today. And in your time-blindness, you’d also forgotten that the bus stopped running at 8.

You glanced over at Garreth beside you, and let out a frustrated sigh at his barely concealed laughter. He knew that you sometimes took the bus, and by the lack of car in the parking lot belonging to you, it hadn’t taken him more than a moment to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t look so down, it’s not like I’d let you walk. Get in the car.” You immediately began protesting, not wanting to burden him any more than you already had this evening. “It wasn’t a question, get in the car. It’s too far back to campus for you to walk during the day, let alone at night. I’d be the world’s biggest asshole if I let a pretty individual walk home alone after dark. Get in.”

You conceded with a sigh, walking around to the passenger side door. “You think I’m pretty?” you grinned, trying to joke away the nerves you felt at getting in his car.

Sure, you’d become pretty close throughout the term, but your interactions had always, always been limited to that building. And now here you were, getting into a car with the guy you’d been crushing on for months. 

“If you’re just now noticing, then maybe you’re dumber than I gave you credit for,” came his snarky reply. He got in the car and grinned at you over the console. You hoped he couldn’t see your cheeks turn red in the dark. His gaze held yours for a beat too long and you looked away nervously. He cleared his throat before starting the car. “Where to?”

You directed him to your place, basking comfortably in the silence of the car in between instructions. Against your better efforts, though, you also found yourself staring at him. It was such an odd thing to find attractive, you thought, but the sight of him driving made your heart do a flip. 

You were admiring how his gentle features looked under the red of a stoplight when he turned to glance at you and caught you. “See something you like?” 

“And what if I do?” You replied, lips quirking into a smile. You had no idea where this bold streak came from, but you weren’t complaining. He didn’t reply immediately, focused on turning into the parking lot of your building. He parked, and then turned to you. 

“I’m less concerned about the ‘what if you do’s and more concerned about the ‘what if you don’t’s if I’m being honest.” Your face twisted slightly in confusion as you tried to decipher his meaning.

“I- what? I don’t understand.” Stumbling over your words, it took you far longer than it should have to realize how much closer he’d gotten to you. 

“What I mean,” he said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper, “is that if you don’t, you need to tell me now because otherwise I’m about to do something really really stupid.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said in reply. “I see.” You wet your lips nervously but didn’t move away from him, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. “Well, there’s not really a good way to know if it’s stupid or not until you’ve done it.”

Apparently that was all the approval he needed, because the next thing you knew his lips were on yours and his hand was cupping the back of your neck and a low whine sounded in the back of your throat. This was happening. Oh my god this was happening.

He pulled back after a moment, panting just slightly. He was nervous, you realized. You’d almost never seen him nervous before, but right now, in this moment, you were sure that’s what the expression on his face was. 

You let out a soft giggle that apparently eased his nerves, causing him to break out into a wide smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, was it as stupid as I thought it was?”

“Verdict is still out,” you said with a grin. “I’ll have to let you know tomorrow. You work?” 

“Same time as usual, yeah.” He chuckled at the smile on your face as you unbuckled yourself from the car. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you know then. And maybe after you’re out, we could go get dinner or something. If the jury rules in your favor, that is.” You grin at him over your shoulder as you get out of the car.

The last thing Garreth sees as he pulls out of your lot is you pressing your fingers softly against your own lips, grinning like an idiot. And though he’d never admit it, in his head he was doing the same.

[lottiebagley]

Every lie you ever told- Draco Malfoy

She can't help the grin that sits on her lips as she strolls through the library.

She had entered the room in a foul mood, after a long day and detention with professor Snape she hadn't been in the mood to spend her evening alone working in the library, but her friends had been too busy to accompany her and she really needed to finish the essay she had due in tomorrow.

She would have normally asked Draco. He was the best boyfriend she could ask for. Completely doting on her, anything she ever wanted he was right there with it. He loved her for exactly who she was and she felt the same way. She would do anything for the boy.  They had gotten together almost a year prior, having met at a party in the Malfoy manor. She was the year below him so despite knowing of each other and sharing a common room they had never spoken until then.

She hadn't had a chance to find him to ask him to join her and it was pure luck that he was say with Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. She got on well with his friends and knew they wouldn't mind her joining to do her essay. She also knew afterwards Draco would probably take her hand and pull her into a broom closet, complaining she had distracted him whilst he studied with a smirk on his face.

She approaches the table from behind, having recognised the group of fifth year slytherins from behind and was preparing to wrap her arms around her boyfriend and press a loving kiss to his cheek when she heard it.

"Draco, you have to tell her. It will be so much worse if she finds out from anyone else," Blaise was urging. She could feel it in her gut. They were talking about her.

"That won't happen. I've covered my tracks, she'll never know, it's for her own good," Draco states, his tone cold. She knows she shouldn't be listening but she can't bare to walk away now.

"There's no way Parkinson won't tell her, not now she knows," Blaise pesters. So Pansy was a part of this. That made the girls blood burn.

Pansy Parkinson was a sore spot in the couples relationship. She had consistently been rude and hurtful towards the girl at the beginning of her relationship with Draco. The girl has spoken to her boyfriend about it after he found her crying, assured her that Pansy was nothing to him. He shot down the rumour he has dated the Parkinson witch. They had slept together that night, it was the girls first time and Draco had been perfect. It was when she realised she was in love with her  boyfriend, not that she told him until two months after.

"She will believe me over Parkinson," Draco shrugs

"Weird considering your relationship is built on lies," Blaise laughs. She isn't sure how to react. She can feel tears prickling her eyes as she watches her boyfriend threaten his friend, she has never been anything but honest with Draco . Had he really lied to her?

**

"There you are, I've been missing you," he grins as he drops onto the seat in front of his girlfriend, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaning back in the arm chair. The common room is empty other than them.

"Here I am," she shrugs, not even looking up from the book she's reading. The truth is she's been avoiding him for the past two weeks, not sure how to bring up what she knows. Not sure is she wants to.

"You didn't miss me too," he pouts, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when she shrugs as response. Normally she would giggle and assure him she did, climbing into his lap and whispering to him about her day as he presses kissed to her neck making her blush. Then again normally she wouldn't let days pass without them seeing each other. "Where've you been anyway? You've been MIA for days," he questions

"I've been around. Busy," she shrugs. He can't help the jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Who had she been with? He has found her friends to ask where she was multiple times. Scoured the whole castle and been unable to find the girl he adored.

"Why are you being like this?" He questions. They never fight and it felt wrong to use his cold tone with her and yet here he was. She groans, folding the page of her book and placing it down on the side  table next to her armchair.

"Like what?" She questions, he scoffs at that

"You're pulling away, all distant and standoffish," he accuses

"I haven't-"

"Don't insult both our intelligence by denying it," he speaks through gritted teeth.

"Fine. I heard you in the library two weeks ago. Blaise said our relationship was built on lies. What did that mean?" She questions. He looks startled. Like a deer in the headlight. Like a man caught red handed.

"It meant nothing, Zabini is stupid," Draco tests and there's another lie

"Draco tell me the truth,"

"About what?" He questions. She stands up now

"Everything! How much do you lie to me to not know what bit of truth I want?" She demands, pacing now. He groans, throwing his head back

"Fine. I will tell you. But you can't over react," he decides to ignore the scoff she lets out.

"When we first met I was using you," he admits. She could feel her heart breaking. She had always found Draco attractive, and from the moment they spoke she could feel herself falling.

"I had no interest in you. I wanted to make Parkinson jealous so I used you," he continues. "That doesn't change how I feel for you now, I'm so in love with you it's the scariest thing in the world,"

"For how long?"

"Four months," he admits. She feels like her whole world stops.

"Draco, we slept together when we had only been together for three. You slept with me to make Pansy jealous?" She can feel the tears pouring from her eyes. She had been in love and he had been using her. His heart breaks at the sight, breaks at how she flinches away when he moves to comfort her.

"I took it too far, I know I did, I just-"

"Draco I gave you my virginity! You knew that! It meant something to me and you knew that too! I realised I was in love with you that night!" She shouts. His heart breaks. He has fallen for her so hard that Pansy truly never received a second thought anymore but how could he ever make her believe that now.

"Angel, I love you so much, it just took me a bit longer,"

"Everything about us is a lie!"

"No, no, how I feel about you. Everything I've said to you. None of it is a lie!"

"How can I ever believe you?" She questions, it's quiet, he can tell that she wants to believe him but knows how much it would destroy her.

"I don't know," he admits, his heart is broken now "please, just forgive me and put all of this behind us,"

"How can I forgive you? I don't even know what is true anymore,"

"I'll do anything,"

"Write me a list. Write me a list of every lie you ever told me and I'll decide if I can forgive you," she states before turning on her heel and fleeing to her room, sobbing to her best friend.

**

"Leave her alone Draco," the voice is sharp in his ear. Her best friend had been overly protective over this past 48 hours, not letting Draco anywhere near the girl he believed to be the love of his life.

She looks dishevelled as she sits at breakfast, her friends comforting her. Her hair is messy and her eyes have deep and dark bags under them like she hasn't slept. Her face blotchy from crying. He knows he looks equally broken.

"Just give me a minute, please?" He asks her best friend, he's nervous, knows she doesn't deserve this. Knows he will never be worthy of her and never was.

"No,"

"It's fine," the girl croaks looking up to her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? She's not really sure where they stand anymore.

"Are you okay?" Draco asks as he pushes past her friend to sit next to her on the bench, wanting so badly to touch her, hold her too him but he's too scared to try. Too scared to be shot down.

She shrugs, desperate for him to hold her and makes this all go away but too awkward to ask him too.

"Are you?" She questions

"No. It's my own fault though," he admits "I wrote it. The list I mean," he continues, pulling the envelope from  his pocket. "It's every lie I ever told you. I'm truly sorry," he finishes placing the letter in her hand before standing up and walking away.

**

She doesn't open it until two days later, too scared to see what it says. To have any more precious memories crash and burn around her.

She pulls the envelope open, heart beating out of her chest as she sits on her bed in the empty dorm.

Darling, This is a list of every lie I ever told. Know I regret them all. 1) I never dated Pansy (I did for seven months) 2) that I was originally interested in you (you know that one though) 3) that I wasn't jealous when Zabini kissed your cheek that one time ( I punched him for it) 4) that I hadn't thought of another girl in months when we first slept together (I can't believe I ever stooped so low. I regret it with every fibre of my being. I first realised my feelings for you were becoming genuine that night)

The list goes on, three whole pieces of parchment but by the time she's over the initial bad ones they're almost sweet. That it didn't hurt when she accidentally slapped him. That he hadn't had a nightmare. That he hadn't been utterly distracted by how beautiful she is and accidentally zoned out when she was talking a thousand times. That he wasn't nervous when he met her family for the first time. That he wasn't scared she was going to leave him when she met his.

When she gets to the end she's in tears, every lie he told since the bad ones had been sweet, had been to make her happy. It's then that she realises something, he loved her as much as she loved him he just started a little later.

She knows it'll be hard to work through it but she also knows that for him it's worth it. He lied to her time and time again, but for the most part his lies had been to protect her or to make her happy.

She can't stop her feet moving on their own accord as she jogs down the stairs, pushing through the crowds in the corridor as she approaches the great hall knowing he will be there.

She sees him in the corridor outside the hall, looking as heartbroken as the last time she saw him. Surrounded by his friends. She approaches them and grabs his hand spinning him around.

His eyes widen at the sight of her.

"Draco Malfoy, look me in the eye and tell me honestly. Are you in love with me?" She demands.

"I am. I am completely and utterly in love with you," he admits, slightly confused. She grins before wrapping her arms round his neck and pulling him down, pressing her lips to his in a heated kiss.

He seems shocked but kisses back, pulling her as close as physically possible, taking in everything about her, scared it'll be the last time. They pull apart, panting lightly.

"No more lies," she whispers

"Never again," he grins as she presses her lips to his in a peck. "I don't deserve you," he whispers

"Any boy prepared to go through what you went through to make me happy deserves me Dray,"  she whispers. He shakes his head at this opening his mouth to protest but she's quick to press her lips to his to stop him.

"You wanna get dinner?" She questions

"Of course," he smiles back, arm wrapping around her waist

"And after we can head to your dorm and make up for lost time," she grins and giggles at his smirk

"Oh we will be doing plenty of that," he can't help the grin as he squeezes her tighter to him. How did he ever get so lucky?

**

Masterlist

[fandomscombine]

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable​ 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

~

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[lairn]

AO3 fic tag game

tagged by @whatevsbla

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

Two. I specifically made my AO3 account for a writing prompt event two years ago and have done it twice. (I’m pelicandaughter on there if you want to read them?)

2) what is your total ao3 word count?

4,759

3) how many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

The ones on AO3 are for Realm of the Elderlings. I half-wrote a jokey Supernatural fic in ~2012 but that only existed on a long-defunct laptop.

4) what are your top 5 fics by Kudos.

Well. I only have two fics, haha. But Patience in Winter has more than Weak Willed. I’ve occasionally gotten a kudos for Patience after the actual writing event. It’s a sweet surprise. I’m not sure Weak Willed will get the same reaction since it’s darker.

5) do you respond to comments?

Yes! It probably helps that the writing event is pretty small, so there’s not much to respond to. But also, before 2020 I hadn’t done any serious creative writing for years, and it was so wonderful and encouraging to get nice comments. It felt important to respond.

6) what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

On AO3, Weak Willed. I mean, it’s about a dysfunctional relationship between two very miserable and hateful people. But I wrote an alternative final chapter for One Hundred Years of Solitude in high school. It didn’t fix any of the angst that was already there. Just added to it.

I used to write relatively angsty endings even for literary analysis essays. I kind of like ending things with a heavy weight of doom it seems.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Patience in Winter by default. It’s about family and love, so that’s nice. Uh but also right at the very end I made sure to remind the readers that the protagonist was going to have a pretty harsh and difficult life. But the family and love parts were still emphasized!

8) do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've ever written?

I wrote a couple paragraphs of a Minority Report/Hannibal crossover. Will Graham was a precog I think? It was actually fun and I could write in Will’s voice pretty well, but as soon as I got to Hannibal I couldn’t capture his manner of speech, so I dropped it.

9) have you ever received hate on a fic?

No. Hard to get that when you write for prompts in a small community.

10) Do you write smut? What kind?

Nope! I doubt I would ever choose to do so.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. I’m not sure why someone would even do that.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

I doubt it.

13) have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did a beta read for a fic about Spiderman and Deadpool, but the writer dropped it.

14) whats your favourite ship?

I’m not particularly into ships. If I see enough art for a couple, it might eventually win me over (Reigen/Serizawa). I suppose the Fool and Fitz though?

15) what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I really was having fun writing in Will Graham’s voice. But really, I’d rather just get more prompts for Realm of the Elderlings.

16) What are your writing strengths.

Hm, it’s hard to look at my own writing with clarity. I think I manage to slip in one or two potent images or lines that are impactful. I’m pretty careful with my word choices.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

Motivation! It’s hard to start, but when someone else is asking for something specific the parameters and the obligation to another person make writing doable.

Also, I find myself getting too caught up in the practical details that are probably best to skip. How a character moves from place A to B might be boring, but I get stuck if I don’t explain the process. Plus, I have to do a lot of internal world-building that won’t actually appear on the page. Before I can write a scene of someone in a restaurant, I would have to look at restaurant floor plans, the kinds of uniforms the waitstaff might where, what foods people eat in that region and how, what socio-economic class might go to the restaurant, how many customers the restaurant gets in a day, etc. Then it’s just a scene of two guys chatting while eating burgers. Basically, I’m not an efficient writer.

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I haven’t tried it, but I don’t see the issue as long as it makes sense. If your protagonist doesn’t understand the language, leaving in something untranslated might work just fine. If they do understand, it seems very silly to do that. You could just state that the dialogue is in another language.

19) what was the first fandom you wrote for?

I guess One Hundred Years of Solitude? It was an optional creative writing assignment and the fandom was my very excited teacher. But yeah, then basically just Realm of the Elderlings.

20) what's your favourite fic you've ever written?

I want to say it’s the One Hundred Years chapter because then nobody can check to see if it’s any good. However, I worked pretty darn hard on Weak Willed. It was challenging to write, and I think the time investment makes me like it most.

Tagging: nobody, but you can still do it!

[sunscreenstudies]

hey ik this is random but I was scrolling thru the leaving cert tag and saw your post abt your results. Firstly congrats (even if it is 3 years late haha), secondly I’m currently in 6th year and was wondering if I could ask for some English advice? I’m looking to go up a grade (h3->h2) and was wondering if you have any particular tips for studying english, the exam, technique, or for literally anything relevant to the subject. There’s no pressure to answer this, ty either way :)))

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask and i am so sorry i’ve only gotten round to it now XD

LC English tips below!

Okay so it’s been a while since I did the LC but if things are more or less the same, then you’ve got your three texts to answer a question on.

Tip #1: Even though there is an awful lot to learn, you just need to remember key words, and you’ll sail through! 

In the comparative, you need to compare your texts in every. single. paragraph. You could write a fantastic essay, but if you don’t say “In comparison to this…” “Text 2 however differs from this…” “Similarly…” “The two texts are different in the sense that…” etc. you will get zero marks at all.

When answering your poetry question, you need to keep referring to the style of the poet. Every past poetry question can be broken down into two simple questions: What did the poet write about? and how did they say it? If you can answer both these questions on every poem you learn, you’ll do great! 

Also, do not learn any more than 5 poems per poet and don’t learn any more than 5 poets to begin with. This covers you completely no matter who appears on the day!

Tip #2: Please please pleaseee remember that for the comphrehension section, you must answer one question A and one question B from two different texts! If you answer from the same text you will get 0 and worse than that, this section is worth 12.5% of your total paper which means you will be down an entire grade immediately.

The length of your answer needs to correspond to the marks going for that question. In question A you usually have three parts, worth 15m, 15m, and 20m. Your 20 mark answer must be longer than your 15 mark questions.

For every 5 marks a question is worth, you need 1 A4-page pararaph. Unless you’ve got tiny writing, this is usually 5 to 7 lines of the page.

Your teacher has undoubtedly told you all about timing and “don’t spend any longer than 40 minutes on your question A” and yea they have a point, to an extent. I spent about an hour answering my question A and then sailed through question B because for me, I found the second question a lot easier to answer. Don’t panic if you don’t stick to the “recommended time” because every single person is different and what you find easy might be difficult for someone else.

In saying that, if you are spending loadsss of time on one particular section and you can feel the clock ticking, then move the heck on. Take a deep breath, leave a blank page for yourself to come back to that question later, and start your next part. Every question has a finite amount of marks, so no matter how brilliant your 20 mark answer is, you can only ever get 20 marks for it, and if that answer came at the expense of not getting question B done at all, then you’re down a grade already.

Tip #3: They want your opinion. Let me repeat that. They want your opinion. No matter what the heck they ask you, whether it’s about poetry or your novel or a Shakespearean text, the examiner will be checking to see what you thought of the text. I know firsthand how weird writing things like “In my opion...” or “I believe that...” but this is how you get the marks. Don’t lose the H2 you’re aiming for cause you’re feeling a bit awkward. After the exam, that feeling will never matter again, but your grade will!

Link every single paragraph in every single answer. This doesn’t have to be complicated, you don’t even need to write an entire sentence. Just start every new paragraph with phrases like “However...” or  “Therefore...” or “In contrast to this...”. If you don’t link your paragraphs, the examiner will think that you don’t know what you’re talking about and that you have no opinion of your own (see Tip #3) so use those joining phrases!

Tip #4: For that letter/article/diary entry question B, make sure that whatever part of it you answer, you know the layout for that style. Reports must have a title, introduction, work carried out, findings, suggestions, recommendations, and conclusion sections. Essays need to have a clear introduction, 5+ paragraphs, and closing. Even diary entries should begin with ‘Dear Diary’ which physically causes me pain to write, but it’s what gets you the marks!

Letters are the most asked question B but the most diffuclt to get good marks in. First things first: Figure out if it’s formal or informal. Formal will be editors, principals, government, or anyone that you would address as “sir” or “ma’am” in real life. Informal will be your friends, close family members, penpals, or anyone you’d hug goodbye and laugh with in real life.

Formal letters begin with your own name in the right hand corner of the page, with your own address directly below it. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and be sure to check the question for any hint about what this date should be. If you’re writing a letter to your boss asking about organising a staff barbarcue for staff morale, then you wouldn’t date it in the middle of December, right? Sign off with something professional like “Kind regards” or “Thank you for your time”

Informal letters begin with your own address on the top right-hand corner of the page but do not write your name! It’s an informal letter to your friend; they know who you are.  Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and pay attention to the time of year again. Sign off with something casual like “see you later!” or “talk soon!”

Tip #5: Section 2′s composing section is worth an entire 25% of your paper. If you want to get a good grade, you need to get a good grade in this. If you’re aiming for a H2, then you need to get a H2 in this section minimum.

Your essay  should be between 4 to 6 pages, or 1000 to 1250 words. At least.

Always open with a quote, a rhetorical question, or a shocking statistic. I went online the night before my Paper One exam, and wrote down 10 quotes from well-known people about the most popular topics in life, eg. Education, Love, Money, Travelling, Death, Youth & Aging, etc. and just learnt them off in half an hour. I ended up using three of them on the day, and you have no idea the relief you feel when you’re guaranteed that at least one thing in your composition will get you marks!

Take an entire A4 page and plan your essay before you start. Not only is it just common sense and super helpful to get all your ideas down before you forget them, but if you run out of time for whatever reason, then the examiner will be able to see what you were planning to write, and will give you an extra mark or two. Your plan doens’t have to be complicated and you definitely shouldn’t spend any longer than 5 minutes on it. Just throw down a few words, organise them based on paragraph, and then start writing.

And finally (i’m so sorry that you had to read all that) remain calm! No matter what happens, whether you get a H1 or a H7, as long as you do your best then no one can say anything to you! You are more than your grade and you are more than some English exam that won’t matter in ten years anyway. Stay calm, always put your mental and physical health first, and remember that this paper is not the end all be all of anything. You’ve got this.

[aliatori]

L, T, U for the writer asks?

Oh hey, Hope. <3 Thanks for these asks—they were thought provoking and fun to answer.

L: What advice would you give to other writers?

Oh man. This is one I could write an essay on. I will do my best to stick to the few points I wish I had internalized earlier in my creative journey.

1) Comparison is the thief of joy.

Fandom in particular can be brutal for this, but I have seen it happen in ugly, messy ways in original writing communities as well. The more you focus on what you think someone else’s writing has versus your own, the less time you’re spending on nourishing your own creative joys. Comparison also assumes juxtaposing any two works is an apples to apples situation, when in reality it’s usually apples to oranges (or chandeliers, or old dusty skeletons, or whatever).

2) Be willing to experiment with both prose and process.

So much of writing advice is filled with prescriptive black and white maxims when the reality as I’ve observed it is a lot more flexible. For every person who froths at the mouth about unnecessary adverbs or avoiding the phrase ‘X let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding’, there will be readers who are delighted by the inclusions. The same goes for process stuff. There’s no magic number of words/days/hours/places you need to write—only that you put some amount of words down on a page in a way that works for YOU.

3) Find your people.

Writing becomes far less difficult and lonely when you are surrounded by a community that supports you in meaningful, positive ways. Having inspiring, skilled creators in my orbit who have also become dear friends has made me strive to improve my craft, to push myself past my comfort zone, and to keep going when I otherwise would have given up.

T: What’s your favourite part of the writing process? Why?

In official terms, honestly, prewriting is my favourite part. This is usually where character creation happens for me and is a favourite without a doubt. Aside from sometimes a loose concept or idea, characters are the first elements of a story that come to me and the central focus of my writing process.

After a few years of reading 150+ books a year, I’ve come to find strong characters are one of the elements that make a story stand out to me years down the line (followed by unique worldbuilding or memorable style/prose), so I made the conscious decision to direct my focus towards robust, three dimensional characters to align my interest with a useful craft decision. My other big love, worldbuilding, usually happens in prewriting, though much like characters will tell me fun new things during the drafting process, worldbuilding gets expanded on too.

The bulk of my daydreaming, Pinterest board making, playlist curating, and worldbuilding is 1) absolutely is a tandem favourite part of my process and 2) I have started to think of as post-pre writing. 😂 In trying to adhere to the old adage of writing for yourself first and foremost, I find this sort of in between mental work keeps me engaged and internally motivated between drafting sessions.

And like… hear me out, but I love drafting (with one exception I’ll note in my other answer). The satisfaction of building a story brick by brick, scene by scene, is so satisfying to me. And I have gotten better over the years at not self editing too hard as I go, so feeling myself and my oats on a first draft brings me a lot of joy. The more id, the merrier. Also, as a recovering pantser, discovery writing certain parts during drafting—like characters surprising me or teasing out an interesting answer to a plot hole—lights my fire.

U: What’s your least favourite part of the writing process? Why?

*grabs an imaginary mic and pulls it too close to their mouth* Editing.

Full disclosure, I am biased because editing has given me so much trouble the past several months. I can admit it’s a weakness. BUT! It actually makes sense in a way. In my last fandom experience where my writing got kick started after long dormancy, I didn’t spend a lot of time doing more than perfunctory revisions since, hey, people get this for free and can take it or leave it. So like any unused muscle, I am feeling the growing pains as I attempt to keep expanding and making significant structural changes to a previously ‘finished’ story.

The addendum to my drafting note above: I also hhhhhhaaaaaatttteeeee middles of any novella+ length story. Act 2 is my forever nemesis. It’s where I’m most prone to lose my grip on pacing, likely to write weaker scenes, and feel impatient until I get to the brain buzzing material when the rising action kicks up.

And, though I don’t delete anything outright, I hate when I have to make the hard decision to give up on a story that isn’t working/ready. Feels bad, even though I recognize it’s still valid practice.

[haknew]

pspsps i’m manifesting you sharing the pcs!! as a stan who doesn’t have the resources to buy/trade pcs and only eve got to buy the bloom bloom album (got lucky and pulled bias line so hehe), it makes me so happy to see what everyone’s pulled in newer/older albums and i love seeing all the pcs my friends share pics of so if you would love to dump random info on them or share photos of them i’d be pretty invested in looking through it all!!

ahhh anon pls read under the cut too ! ;-;/ i was going to go through all my pcs but i realized that would take too long LOL so i picked some of my favs / ones i wanted to talk about and included it here ^~^ : 

these are just a few of my favorites ;-;/ actually a few of these were gifts from frens ! so they’re even more special bc of that :,)) more under the cut for those interested heh ^u^ 

first off thank you for asking anon T^T !!! <3 i haven’t actually talked about my collection all that much recently bc i’ve been too busy for collecting... but thank you for enabling me T-T ! means a lot ! and also ;;;; that’s okay ! i think collecting isn’t super sustainable as hobbies go lmao jdfskjf but it is definitely a fun way to interact with other deobis if you can ! and it’s okie if you don’t have the capacity to now ;-; i hope you can in the future if you’d like to ! or whatever you’d like ! collecting is a hobby at most so ! i really believe in doing whatever you’d like to whether that’s buying a bunch of albums or none or anything in between it’s all up to the person ! everyone is super valid ! (so long as we’re not hurting anyone of course :o !) and omg your luck !! so happy you got to pull your bias line ! it was meant to be hehe ^^ bloom bloom is such a pretty album too ;;; all the pcs are so pretty 

i actually have ;;; a lot of pcs LMAO so if you’re ever interested in a certain era pls feel free to let me know :o ! but i keep all my album pcs in this cute lil a5 binder ! i made the cover using my extra chase photobook ^~^ (i ended up with 6 copies ...) and i included a pic of my blbl page ! bc it’s my favorite ^^ i don’t actually have the blbl albums but i have blbl pcs bc they’re so pretty together methinks :,)) 

i don’t collect everything like i said >.< so i tend to pick and choose :o i’m still missing one specific chanhee pc i want before i say i’m completely done with collecting T-T but some people collect all the pcs from an album ! which i respect them for actually hhhh i just don’t have the capacity ;;;; and i got pretty lucky ! bc when i first got “serious” about collecting for tbz, i realized i usually pulled kevin pcs or it was super easy to trade for my biases ;;;; so a lot of my collection are from trades ! 

felt bad about not taking nice aesthetic pics for you bc i’m pressed for time ;;;; so here are some nice pics i’ve taken before ! from left to right it’s kev’s re:al con trading card (that i paid too much for considering but i clown for kevin like you wouldn’t believe), hak’s moon vers. pc from reveal ! which was my first ever tbz pc and a gift from chloe <3, and chanhee’s dreamlike pc ! i actually clowned for this one too i set up a threeway trade bc op wanted changmin’s and i had sunwoo’s so i found someone who wanted sunwoo and had changmin jdkfvd LOL 

and then i’d say i’m most proud of my chase collection ! it’s not my ... fav ? like era but i clowned and completed all the inserts for all the bbs AHHHHH and so i’m very proud of that ! (excluding the album covers bc they’re hard to ship T-T tho ! i did pull hak’s trick album cover which is the luckiest album i’ve had thus far)

if you made it this far, thank you for reading all of that LOL i did not mean to write you an essay ;;;; i just got so excited ;;;; it’s been so long since i’ve gotten to talk about my collection methinks hhhh >.< oh also before anyone asks .... i am not rich JKDGHDDSF i think i got really lucky ! i had some funds leftover during the pandemic (which is when i’d say i started collecting ?) from my job ;;;; and i still actually have funds if i wanted to i could collect everything ;;;; but i tried my very bestest to trade for stuff i wanted and not go above ... like 5usd per pc ? (which more or less i managed to do with help from ktwt) but yea ;;;; it’s a bit crazy and insane to look at but i’m actually quite proud considering it was all mostly waiting for good listings and trading ahhhh so ! yep yep 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s 2020 Birthday R&S

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN!🍒

[Prologue]

The birthday event begins with MC in an antique store, in search of a moderately priced antique. She had asked Shaw for help since she’s been having difficulties finding one

Unexpectedly, Shaw gives her the keys to an antique store the next day, telling her to take whatever she wants

Even though MC knew early on that Shaw used to have a mentor who owned an antique store, she still feels strange about it - she’s unable to associate antiques, which are filled with rich history and culture, with Shaw

She wonders if Shaw visited this antique store regularly in his childhood

She notices that a drawer is open:

There are several yellowed exercise books lying inside, and “Shaw” is written on the bottom right corner of the covers in pencil.

MC: Could these be Shaw’s exercise books when he was young?

Curious, I take out these “major discoveries” from the drawer, my mind whirring with countless questions.  

At the back of my mind, I have a feeling that this place has a special meaning to Shaw.

MC: Maybe, for Shaw’s birthday…

While I’m thinking, something else in the drawer attracts my attention.

There are three copper coins, the colours antique, under sheets of writing paper. Covered in dust, they seem to be calling out to me voicelessly.

~

[Chapter 1: Exam Results]

At 4pm on a Friday afternoon, the math teacher wraps up her final point and closes the lesson plan.

The black board is decorated with the homework for the weekend. The teacher pushes up her spectacles. There is a big stack of exam papers on the table. “Last week’s exam scripts have been marked. Come and take them when I call your name.”

“This time round, most of you have improved. Only one student did not pass.” She takes up the exam script at the very top, flips it open, her eyes sweeping across the last row of the classroom, stopping at the seat at the very corner.

“Shaw.”

Hearing his own name being read, Shaw unwillingly stuffs the interesting comics underneath the table, taking his time to stand up. At the same time, the whole class cannot help but turn around and look at him evenly.

Sensing the surprised and teasing looks in their eyes, Shaw instead raises his head high and walks forward, stuffing a hand into his pocket with a devil-may-care attitude.

Taking the exam script from the teacher, Shaw stands in place, flipping through the script to look at the questions he got wrong.

Well, he did get more questions wrong than expected…

But math itself as a subject is annoying. It’s fine if he doesn’t do well.

He folds the exam script, folds it again, and again, before stuffing it into his pocket, turning around to return to his seat.

The teacher’s eyes unhappily trail behind Shaw, before she once again talks in a serious tone. “This time, everyone has to have their parents sign the exam script. I’ll check them on Monday afternoon.”

Shaw raises his eyebrows in mild disdain. It’s just a signature after all.

The old man copies the calligraphy of the Tang and Song dynasties so perfectly that even experts cannot tell. A mere signature wouldn’t be difficult.

He retrieves the stack of comics from underneath the table and puts them into his bag. With sufficient preparation for the end of school, he waits for the end-of-class bell to sound.

~

[Chapter 2: After School]

Entering June, the cicadas grow increasingly chirpier.

Over 60 years old, the antique shop shopkeeper sits on a rocking chair, fanning himself while checking Shaw’s homework. The prescription of his reading glasses is too shallow, and he has to squint. “The way you write this… Why does it look like a dog crawling. It’s so crooked.”

Shaw takes an eraser to erase a sentence he has copied wrongly. He cleans it till there is not a trace of it left. In an elevated volume, he answers, “It doesn’t matter if the words look ugly as long as I didn’t write it wrongly.”

While saying this, he feels through his pockets and takes out two exam scripts. “My teacher says this one needs a signature.”

Taking the script from him, the shopkeeper laughs until he rocks back and forth. “Kid, it’s fine if you don’t score well, but your luck couldn’t be any worse. Even if you take wild guesses, you couldn’t have gotten such low marks.”

He sits upright, sighing a few times. He folds up his fan and takes out a ball-point pen from his front pocket. With a practiced motion, he signs them.

He sighs deeply. “Shaw, since I’m not your parent, I shouldn’t be teaching you anything.”

Shaw had just closed his pencil box with a “pa”. Hearing his mentor sigh, he takes out his exercise books from his bag again, before returning to a state of studying. “All right, all right, I know what you’re going to say…”

“I won’t talk about big life lessons. Your school teacher would have talked about it more than I have. From today onwards, apart from the homework your teacher has given you, you are to write two pages worth of math questions, and copy a short essay every day. Only after you’re done will I teach you my craft.” He stands up, holding a tea cup and walking towards Shaw. “Whether you agree or not, give me an exact answer.”

Shaw doesn’t make a sound but merely furrows his eyebrows.

The shopkeeper laughs. “Just look at your capabilities - even a math question can stump you. If you can’t handle this small difficulty, how can you think of yielding something big?”

“I’ve never found math difficult. I simply don’t like math.” Shaw sets aside his exercise paper and takes out a brand new sheet. “Next time, I’ll let you sign an exam script that has 100 marks.”

“Wow, look who’s ambitious.”  

“Hmph, this is nothing.”

~

[Chapter 3: After School]

There is only one class on Wednesday afternoon. After school, Shaw carries his bag and runs towards the shop.

Once he enters, he sees his mentor eating some kind of medicine – small white and yellow pills in his palm.

“Why are you here at this time? Oh it’s… I forgot, it’s Wednesday today.” The shopkeeper talks while he turns around to walk into the kitchen. “Put down your bag and wash your hands. I bought a big watermelon!”

Shaw knows the old man has high blood pressure, some heart issues… He doesn’t have a concept of these things, but knows that it isn’t something good.

Without a sound, he puts his bag down and takes out his exercise books and practice questions.

“Don’t rush to do your homework, come eat some watermelon first.” The shopkeeper puts half a watermelon into Shaw’s arms and guides him to the outside of the store, bringing two small stools over for them to sit.

The watermelon, which was just taken out of the fridge, glistens with water droplets. The red flesh has a spoon stuck in it. Shaw scoops a big chunk from the middle. It’s very sweet.

The shopkeeper is also holding half a watermelon, but eats very slowly. Noticing Shaw staring at him, he sighs and shakes his head. “I’m old, so I can’t just eat these cold things…”

While saying this, he looks towards the drawer inside the store. “Your mentor is 62 this year.”

“When people become old, they love to talk about reason. They don’t want you to walk the crooked path they have because it’s a waste of time. You’re still young, so you think you have a lot of time to spare, so you don’t notice. I want to teach you that this is wrong. You need to spend the time of walking down a crooked path to do other things.”

After saying this, he points towards the whole street lined with antique shops. “You can’t just look at these. Learning calligraphy and painting today, and tomorrow jade, and thinking you’re living a serious life. Spending months and years to take care of this palm-sized shop – You can’t live like this. You are my disciple, and I will teach you all my skills. But apart from this, you still have to learn other things. Whatever you can learn, learn it all, and learn it well.

“You have to look at the big world, craft a career, aim higher, be more forward looking…”

He looks at Shaw affectionately. “Put in more effort, learn all my skills, and then get out of here!”

Shaw turns towards the watermelon and lets out a glum “humph”. “You’re old, but I’m still young. I still can’t differentiate plus minus multiply and divide. You’re old so you should be the one putting in more effort to live for a long time, so I can take my time to learn all these things.”

It’s summer, so the night comes late. The clock already signals the time as 6pm, but the light has not yet dispersed.

Shaw puts a brush back into the drawer, takes off his gloves and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Old man, I’m hungry. Why not let me join you for dinner?”

In the kitchen, the shopkeeper is washing vegetables. He takes out a small box from the fridge, pulls back the curtains and returns to the shop.

“I didn’t cook your portion, but you can eat this if you’re hungry.” He removes the cover of the small paper box, and Shaw’s eyes widen.

“What, you think I wouldn’t remember your birthday?” The shopkeeper retrieves a cake from the paper box, and removes the plastic surrounding it. “Once you’re done eating, go home quickly!”

Shaw takes a spoon, muttering in a small voice, “It doesn’t matter if I go home late anyway.”

“Today is different. A child’s birthday is the same day as a mother’s suffering… But you’re too young and still can’t understand this. On other days it’s fine, but today is different…” The shopkeeper holds up his tea cup and goes to the counter.

[Note: The actual phrase is: “儿子生日母亲的苦日”, which doesn’t have a direct English translation. The meaning is that the day a child is born is also the day the mother suffers in childbirth to bring him into the world]

“I don’t know why adults don’t have an issue with you hanging out here all the time. But I can tell that you wear clean clothes every day, and that your shoes are polished. These are because of your parents. Let this old man add one line of reason – if you’re angry with your parents, you’ll regret it eventually.”

Shaw lowers his head, biting the spoon and says evasively, “No one’s angry with them.”

“You don’t call this being angry? It’s not that I’m picking on you, but boys should manage their tempers better. If you’re unhappy, you have to say it straight out, don’t just keep it boiling in your heart without a sound and then wait for someone to come coddle you. With your personality, in future, you’ll become a person who never speaks from the heart. Even when you’re with someone you like, you’d put on a front – That wouldn’t be good.”

“Old man, what are you thinking all day long?” Shaw retorts, not bothering to clean his mouth which has been dirtied with cream. “I will never have someone I like. I play soccer with a few guys in class, and they spend the entire day talking about who they like. It’s so annoying.”

The shopkeeper laughs at how Shaw says this with an air of righteousness. “Which is why I say you’re still young.”

Shaw digs into his cake and lets out a “hmph”. “I’m not young. I just haven’t grown taller.”

The shopkeeper sips his tea. “Guys do take longer to grow. Maybe you’ll be taller than me in two years.”

“Two years is way too long,” the plastic spoon dangles from Shaw’s mouth. “The best thing would be to wake up one day and suddenly be taller. Mm… I want to grow to this height. No.”

He stands on a chair, using his hands to gesture until he is satisfied. “At least here.”

The shopkeeper responds with a sweeping gaze, “That’s 180cm though.”

“180cm is very good.” Shaw sits back on the chair contentedly. “I’ll make a wish to grow to 180cm.”

~

[Chapter 5: Fate]

The shopkeeper looks at the clock on the wall, and slowly puts down his teacup.

“Since it’s your birthday, I’ll read your fortune.” He pulls open the drawer and takes out three old copper coins.

Shaw finishes up the last bite of cake and throws the packaging into a bin. “You’ve already read my fortune many times and the results are always the same. Yet you’re doing it again?”

The shopkeeper looks slightly down, but his voice remains calm. “I have nothing else to do anyway.”

The first throw, one heads and two tails.

The second throw, one heads and two tails.

The third throw, two heads and one tails.

…It’s really not much different from the last reading.

The shopkeeper shakes his head, his hand ready for the fourth throw. The copper coins fall on the table with a jingle, and a combination which has never been seen before appears – all three are negative.

“Wow, there’s a change!” The shopkeeper says in a higher pitch than usual.

In the middle of downing his drink, Shaw almost falls off his chair at the shopkeeper’s sudden outburst.

The jingles from the copper coins continue. The final two throws are no longer the same ones as before.

Shaw looks at the coins. “What does this mean?”

“It means that in the future, you will definitely not always be alone.” The shopkeeper rubs Shaw’s head with a bright smile on his face. “I was always worried about what would happen to you, with such a stubborn personality, if I weren’t around anymore…”

“Of course I wouldn’t always be alone. I’m not alone now.”

Shaw puts the three copper coins in his hands, looking like he doesn’t take the reading to heart – He has his family, pretty good friends, a few friends from the neighbouring class who buy tidbits with him. His life will continue this way.

Even though it’s a little boring, but he wouldn’t be alone.

“Also, old man, you won’t have any problems, and will definitely live for a very long time.”

Shaw speaks, and softly repeats the sentence, “You will definitely live for a very long time.”

The dusk has begun to settle outside. The shopkeeper holds the copper coins between his fingers, and gently sighs. “That’s why I say you’re still young.”

~

[Chapter 6: Birthday Present]

After packing his bag, Shaw looks at the clock on the wall – he should reach home by 7pm, just in time for dinner.

“You’re leaving already? You don’t want your birthday gift?”

The shopkeeper appears from behind the counter, tossing his gaze to the cupboard. “It’s been there for a whole day and you still haven’t found it yet.”

Usually displaying antiques, the drawer now has within it a box wrapped in colourful paper. Shaw curiously walks over and rips off the packaging, revealing a small wooden box.

A dark brown Rosewood bracelet rests in his hand.

In his eyes, this is something only an adult can have.

At his age, he would have received books, stationery, toys or models – none of which he likes.

He is always treated like a child, but he has grown up since a long time ago.

“This bracelet isn’t something expensive, it isn’t that much of an antique, but it is made of quality Rosewood.”

“If you’re bored, you can play with this, and learn to manage your temperament. You’re still young, so it’s fine if you’re still impatient and stubborn. But if you continue with this little attitude of yours, you’d lose out eventually.”

“In this line of work, you need to have patience. One, only when you manage your emotions would you remain focused. Two, good things come to those who wait.”

“The change in your life is also something you will have to wait for.”

These words completely fly over Shaw’s head. He puts the bracelet onto this wrist, coils it around multiple times until it can stay on.

“In future, no matter what you face, you have to be calm, and be patient.” The shopkeeper gently taps Shaw’s head, and frowns. “Have you committed all this to memory?”

Shaw rubs his head, his eyes still trained on his present, completely engrossed with it. “Ahh – yes I remember, I remember!”

“What do you remember?”

“Remember… that I have to hurry home for dinner!” Shaw turns around and grabs his bag, disappearing out of the shop. Before that, he raises the hand that dons the bracelet and waves.

The stars flicker, and the light is reflected in Shaw’s eyes. His eyes are smiling.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Talk Over Tea” || YEAR 3 – Ch.27 (HP au)

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Day posted: 10/13/2020

Word count: 3, 283

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

Sorry about the late upload, my internet is practically nonexistent right now DX 

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“WHAT happened?”

Ron grinned at Heather as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. “I’ll tell it again. Gladly.” He stood up again and everyone around him leaned closer to hear his version of events one more time. “I was sleeping in bed when a weird noise woke me up. I sat up and then – SLICE – Sirius Black had split my curtains in two with a MASSIVE knife. There he was screaming over me yelling AAAAAAAAARGH – ” Ron towered over them like a scary bear with his claws out, “and seeing as I was awake and screaming too, he ran off.”

Everyone gasped and started whispering about how brave Ron was. Harry was looking uncomfortable, sitting beside Ron as he told the story over again to anyone who asked. Heather folded her arms. It was true what people were saying, about Sirus Black having broken in, gotten into the boy’s dormitories – INCHES from Harry – and had escaped again. But it didn’t make any sense.

“Ron! Tell it again for Sean!” A Hufflepuff came running down with his friend right behind him.

“Gladly.” Ron set down his fork over his cold eggs and stood up once more.

Heather rolled her eyes and pulled Harry up with her. They both walked down to where Hermione sat hardly touching her breakfast as she read, eyes darting left to right frantically.

“Hermione, what do you think of what happened last night?” Heather sat down in front of her. Harry drummed his fingers on the table and Heather pulled the book down to get her attention. “Hermione?”

She sighed. “What IS it? I’m studying! I have to read this by Monday and I have two hundred pages to read today!”

“Did you hear about what happened? To Ron?”

Hermione looked at Heather and glared towards Ron. “I heard. I’m glad he’s not hurt.”

“Same,” said Harry.

Heather nodded. “But it doesn’t make sense… Does it.”

“What doesn’t make sense? Sirius Black is a crazed maniac on the loose again. Everything he does is dangerous and insane, isn’t it?” Harry pulled a bowl closer and started scooping in some cinnamon porridge from a center pot. “Only I don’t see how he keeps getting past the dementors… Fudge was right about him being more dangerous than everyone thought and wrong about him seeming sane.”

“But that’s not what I’m getting at.” She pulled Hermione’s book back down to get her attention again. “He didn’t hurt anyone… And… Especially not you, Harry.”

They were all quiet as they thought over Heather’s words.

“Look,” Hermione pulled her book out of Heather’s hands. “I don’t know what Sirius Black was thinking, or why he didn’t just kill Ron and then Harry or whatever it is that mad man wants to do… That’s the business of Professor Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the dementors. That’s why Ron talked to them this morning and why they’re doubling down forces around here. What IS my business is finishing up this book and the essay that goes along with it so that I don’t have to drop this class.” Hermione propped her ‘Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles’ text book back up and flipped the page.

They sat in silence for the remainder of breakfast and ended up leaving Hermione and her unfinished porridge and dragged Ron off with them. They decided they were all still too shaken up about what had happened to Ron to do any homework and started walking around the castle where extra security was being put in.

They followed Mr. Filch around at a distance as he boarded up every crack in the stone walls, every mouse hole – to Mrs. Norris’ dismay – and almost every secret passage that the map showed; all but the one-eyed witch passage into Honeydukes. After being told off for snooping, they followed Professor Flitwick as he taught several of the large doors around the school to recognize a giant picture of Sirius Black.

Professor Flitwick liked the company and let them watch how he charmed two small but large-armed stone troll statues to guard the portrait of the fat lady. She had accepted guarding Gryffindor tower again after Sir Codegan had failed so horribly, demanding extra security measures be taken around her painting.

They sat in the corner of the courtyard looking over Harry’s firebolt, shining it with a clean rag, while Heather drew beside them on the ground. She was trying to get the right color of a small bird pecking at the grass growing between the stones when Harry spoke up, scaring it away.

“D’you think they really don’t know about the one-eyed witch statue? D’you reckon we should tell someone about it?”

Ron leaned in closer to the broom handle and breathed onto it, wiping away a smudge with the rag. “Nah. We’d’ve heard if Honeydukes had been broken into. Besides, no one but us knows about it. He doesn’t have the map.”

Heather was glad Harry was nodding, though she knew she should be the voice of reason right now. Of course they should tell Professor Dumbledore that the secret passage exists… but she’d just gotten to a very interesting part in the banned potions book and wanted to go into the apothecary in Hogsmeade to buy some ingredients for it. That and she wondered if the plant shop there had certain seeds she could grow in that charmed pot Hermione had got her. If the passage was sealed, then she wouldn’t be able to go into Hogsmeade until possibly next year… or whenever they finally caught Sirius Black.

A group of second year girls spotted Ron from across the courtyard and came running up to him, begging to hear the story from his lips. Ron blushed and began retelling it.

“Well… I was asleep and I heard a weird noise – a giant TEAR like a SLICE, and so I woke up realizing it wasn’t in my dream! I looked up and saw him… Sirius Black standing over me with his dirty long hair and a knife as long as my arm! He yelled – about to plunge the knife into my body – when I yelled and he SCAMPERED. Ran right out and escaped.”

The group of girls squealed and huddled together like a pack of scared sheep. They made their way back into the castle corridor, pleased to have heard it and waved goodbye at Ron with giggles.

“You know you tell it different every time?” Heather rolled her eyes and kept mixing more white into her dark blue water color.

“Well I don’t like remembering last night. I’m still scared about it. I almost died!” Ron let Harry take back his broom and crossed his arms. “Why though? Why’d he run off?”

“I’ve been thinking about that… About what you said, Heather.” Harry sat down next to her, followed by Ron. “Why did he run when he saw Ron and not just slice him up and then me and the others? Well I had my curtains pulled closed because of the moonlight that night, and so had Ron. So he had a half chance of getting it right and guessed. He saw it wasn’t me right away, got mad, and then Ron yelled. He must have gotten scared that Ron screamed and he knew people would be waking up, so he ran. I mean, it’d be harder to escape out the castle after everyone had been woken up – and running into the teachers and all that.”

They agreed with Harry on his take on what happened.

“Except… Ron didn’t you say Sirius Black screamed first?” She remembered a version of his story where he said Sirius Black had yelled angrily.

“I don’t remember much of how it all happened. I just try to tell it how I remember telling it to Professor Dumbledore.” Ron went a bit red but shook his head and went back to shining Harry’s broom with the servicing kit.

In the distance they saw Neville walking behind Professor McGonagall on their way to his detention. Apparently it had been Neville who had lost a slip of all of the secret passwords for the week, the very slip that Black used to get in. Whatever detention he’d been given was nothing to the one his grandmother was going to give him. The next morning he’d received a Howler and had seized it and ran with it out of the great hall at once.

It exploded out there and his grandmother’s voice could still be heard clear as crystal telling him about how he’d horribly dishonored his family and brought shame to them all. The Slytherin table was howling with laughter and Heather rolled her eyes at Draco who gave his best impression of Neville sprinting down the great hall with a howler cupped in his hands.

“Harry, you’ve got a letter too,” Ron pointed out.

Heather had just noticed Hedwig sitting patiently in front of them. “Oh, thank you Hedwig. Take my bacon.” Hedwig traded the letter for the bacon and flew back out the tall windows. “‘Dear Harry and Ron. How’s ‘bout seeing me this afternoon for tea ‘round six? Meet me by the castle doors. Wait for me inside the entrance hall. Inside by the doors. Not outside by the doors. Inside. Hagrid. Oh and Heather, come along too if you’d like. Cheers, Hagrid.’” She folded the letter back up. “What a strange invitation…”

Ron shrugged. “He wants to hear about Black from us. You weren’t there, Heather, which is why you were an afterthought. Don’t take it personally.”

The attention was getting to Ron’s head. Harry, however, took the note and pinched his lips closed, probably also noticing Hermione wasn’t invited. They both knew from previous Dursley experience – more precisely among Petunia and her group of wifely friends – what that meant.

Heather had finished her essays early and decided to meet Ron and Harry by the main stairs of the ground floor corridor and together they walked down to the entrance hall. Hagrid was already waiting for them.

“Hagrid! Want me to start telling the story? How Black almost attacked us but my scream drove him off?” Ron took the lead as they left the castle.

“I’ve ‘ready heard ‘bout that.” Hagrid didn’t look down at Ron and kept his eyes on his hut in the distance.

Ron fell behind and walked with Harry, crossing his arms. Harry looked at Heather and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

The air was cold but the grass was greener than it had been a month ago and the small buds that had been closed all winter long were now opening up wide. The lawn was looking shiny and glittery with dew drops and the flowers speckled the green with color. She remembered Professor Sprout saying how she didn’t care that the flowers were weeds, some weeds were pretty, even if Mr. Filch didn’t think so. Heather felt she was right. Flowers were flowers even if some called them weeds, and all flowers were pretty.

They entered Hagrid’s cabin and saw Buckbeak sleeping by the fire with a large plate of dead ferrets by his head. Fang was curled under one of the wings while the other was pulled tight around Buckbeak’s body for warmth. On Hagrid’s dresser door hung a large patchy, fur suit with a long orange and yellow tie draped over the shoulder.

Harry ran his hands down the matted fur and turned to Hagrid. “What’re these for?”

“Fer Buckbeak’s case. M’wearin’ that this Friday, tryin’ to look nice and what not. We’ll be goin’ down ter London on the Knight Bus together.” Hagrid motioned for Buckbeak.

Heather bit her lip. She’d completely forgotten they all promised to help Hagrid with his case. With Quidditch and the broom and the cat and matches and school, she hadn’t even thought of Buckbeak once. Harry pressed a hand to his mouth and Ron looked uneasy; they too had forgotten.

Hagrid offered them lumps of what looked like bread with berries baked inside and Heather accepted with the condition of warm tea to dunk it in. She knew it’d be hard as stone otherwise. They sat at the table and Heather dunked her berry bread in the tea when the moment had finally come

“Ron, Harry. Got somethin’ ter discuss with you two.” Hagrid looked at them both very seriously, which was uncharacteristic of him. He never looked too serious about anything, always preferring a lighthearted environment.

“Us two? But not with Heather?” Harry frowned.

“No. Not with Heather. YOU two. And yer behaviors these last several months.”

Heather crossed her arms and tried not to smile, covering her mouth with the tea cup instead as she sipped.

“About what?” Ron frowned as well.

“About Hermione and the way you two’ve been holdin’ grudges with her and even Heather.” Hagrid sighed. “Firs’ of all, Harry. She’s yer sister and when she fell of her broom yeh should’ve been there.”

She knew instantly that Hermione had been coming down to see Hagrid. Though she was even more confused now why Hermione had been telling her she didn’t have time to hang out. They could have both been coming down to see Hagrid and complaining about Ron and Harry together… Though maybe she came down during Heather’s practices? But she always said she was working on essays and studying arithmancy charts in the library during those times. Heather frowned into her tea. Hermione’s times weren’t adding up and haven’t been all year.

“And in case yeh also haven’t noticed. She’s been in a righ’ state ‘bout you two and a lot more. Comin’ down ter visit me fer a while now, talkin’ ‘bout feeling lonely. Firs’ you two weren’t talkin’ to both Hermione and Heather ‘bout the broom, an’ now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat – ”

“The one that ATE Scabbers!” Ron interrupted. “She won’t even apologize!”

“Well… And she’s been cryin’, yeh know. Things are seemin’ rough fer her at the moment. I think she’s bitten off more’n she can chew, all the work she’s doin’ – still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case even! She found some really good stuff fer Buckbeak… Could even stand a chance now I reckon…”

Harry looked at all the files and open books with marks and closed ones with little scraps sticking out in them. “We should’ve helped with that – Sorry, Hagrid – I – ”

“Oh, I’m not blamin’ yeh fer that. Merlin knows how busy yeh all are too, with Quidditch an’ school an’ classes. An’ Harry, you with far more than you should be dealin’ with.” Hagrid shook his head. “No, I ain’t blamin’ you fer that… Jus’ thought yeh two’d value yer friendship with Hermione more than brooms and rats… Jus’ not talkin’ to her is – ”

“Well she won’t apologize!” Ron insisted. “My pet is dead because she was careless and kept the door WIDE open for her cat to come in and eat him up – even though I TOLD her to be careful! If she just apologized and admitted her cat murdered Scabbers, then I’d talk to her again.”

“Well… some people can be downrigh’ foolish ‘bout their pets…” Hagrid tried to reason with Ron a bit more but it made no difference.

They spent the rest of their time with Hagrid talking about Buckbeak’s case. Hermione had done real thorough research and they agreed with Hagrid that Buckbeak did have a chance. At nine he walked them back to the castle and they waved goodbye to him.

“So are you going to talk to Hermione again then?”

Ron curled his fingers into a tight fist. “Maybe.”

“We should, I think.” Harry started up the stairs.

“Oh alright,” Ron gave up. He climbed the stairs higher and turned. “But on a trial bases.” He turned back and kept climbing out of sight.

Harry came back down and stood next to Heather. She hadn’t noticed until now that he was slightly taller than her. She looked at the top of his head and wondered how much was just hair. She didn’t want to be shorter, so maybe she should start stretching out her back with her exercises, or even just willing her body to grow more overnight. Anything.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry crossed his arms. “Will you tell me next time you decide to tell on me?”

Heather smiled. “Yes. I’ll give you at least an hour’s warning so you can hide either yourself or whatever thing I’m having a teacher confiscate.”

Harry smiled and stuck out his hand. “Deal. But same goes for me…”

She took it and shook. “Fair.”

He looked into her eyes and hesitated for a second. “And no secrets?”

She looked around, confused by the question and why he was asking her that and quickly looked back into his eyes. She wanted to lie, open her mouth and say ‘deal’, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to tell him about going over to Draco’s house, and what she recently realized was the start of a friendship with him, so she just squeezed his hand tighter and shook it again, keeping her lips closed.

“Alright.” Harry let go and climbed the stairs. “Night!”

“Night,” she called after him.

She looked down at her hand and frowned. It wasn’t just Draco though… Was it? She had known about the map before him… She had broken into the library and not told him… She was keeping Professor Lupin being a werewolf to herself… She had Ministry banned books under her mattress and he knew nothing about that…

She started walking towards the dungeon stairs at the end of the corridor, keeping her eyes on her hand. What was the difference between a secret and just something personal? She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned a few corners to reach the entrance to the common room. She whispered the password and entered.

Her attention was drawn towards the group of students standing around the bulletin board. She walked over to Draco and sat next to him.

“Professor Snape’s just been in to pin up the next Hogsmeade trip.” He motioned behind him to the crowd without looking up from his book. “I’ll probably be going, most likely. That Sirius Black business might have made McGonagall forget about our detentions and I doubt Professor Snape will remind her. Especially since the Quidditch Cup is on the line.”

“Don’t remind me,” Heather groaned. “What’re you going to do about Harry? Has Marcus talked to you at all about it?” Draco was no match for Harry, even before the firebolt. Heather had worked hard to get him up to Harry’s flying level and the Nimbus two-thousand-and-one is a lot faster, making his jitters on it visible again. Of course she couldn’t mention any of that.

“No. He’s still upset about getting knocked back by Harry… What spell did he use anyways?”

Heather shrugged.

“Well you can tell Potter that I’ll hit him back with it harder.” Draco stood and placed the book back on the shelf next to the fireplace. “Maybe I’ll have Father send some books over.” He looked at her and smiled.

She rolled her eyes and headed into the girl’s dormitories for bed. She laid down and thought about Hogsmeade and about the books tucked under her mattress, about the potion and the recipe she had in mind. If by some miracle Harry decided not to go… then she wouldn’t either, and so it was up to ‘the Universe and Fate’ – as Professor Trelawney liked to say – if they stayed or went this weekend.

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[alcego-writes]

How to Write in College

College is a fun time. You’re getting new responsibilities, but also a lot more freedom. It’s also really weird, because there’s nothing in the (American) school system to prepare you for this world. Of course, many of us are working while in school, so time is, shall we say, limited.

It stands to reason that a lot of us simply stop writing while we’re in school---it’s hard enough when you’ve got the time and the energy to make words happen, but when you’re making your brain do academics on top of it all? Absolutely fuckin’ not.

So, how to write?

Make it a habit.

This is the most important bit. It takes two months to form a new habit, and it’s often rough in the beginning. My personal writing habit is simply to write every week. Once upon a time, when I was writing once a month if I was lucky, this was unthinkable. I’ve now held my streak for twenty weeks (five months).

Obviously, this isn’t doable for everyone. Our brains all work differently, and habits can be a pain to form when you’re dealing with health issues of any variety. Find a way that works for you, and work to meet your goals.

That way, when you’re in the middle of the semester and you’ve got a little free time, sitting down to write just happens. (Or, more like, you’re more inclined to think “hey maybe it’s time to write.”)

But we can’t always write. There literally aren’t enough hours in the day, especially during midterms and finals.

Take breaks.

Know your limits, and get real used to the idea that you will need to prioritize. School comes first every single time. Besides, taking a break isn’t a bad thing! It just means your brain space is dedicated to something else.

For example, when I was knee-deep in ten to thirty page essays for my English class, I didn’t expect myself to write a lot outside of those essays. Instead, I tracked what I wrote for my essays in the same place I track my other writing and reminded myself that I was doing something, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing.

Budget your time.

At the end of the day, there’s only so much you can do. I have three (3) planners this semester, all of which I check in on regularly. One is for general scheduling, the other for assignments, and the third is for breaking down my days and figuring out when I can work on what. Obviously this is a lot, and by no means do you have to do anything like it, but my point is that it’s important to know how much time you can allocate to writing.

For me, I often have to squeeze in ten to thirty minutes’ worth of work before I leave for work, meaning that I have to wake up a little earlier. Not great, as that qualifies as waking up well before the ass-crack of dawn, but it works for me. It means that no matter what happens with work or school I know that I’ve gotten some writing done.

Reward yourself.

This goes hand in hand with the habit thing, really, but I feel it deserves its own spot. See, writing is hard. It’s really, really hard, and it only gets harder when you’re desperately trying to make time for it. So find a way to make yourself feel good about writing.

I track my progress, and seeing what I’ve accomplished is reward enough for me. If I do some really amazing work (take last semester, when I was writing upwards of 12,000 words each week) I’ll treat myself to a small financial reward like a movie or a cheap dinner.

This prevents writing from feeling like a chore, and provides incentive to keep going. Which, considering how rough college can be while you’re still figuring out the whole shabang, is a huge deal.

When it comes to writing, motivation is not your friend. Determination is. Find a way to keep yourself determined, to get some momentum going and then to keep it going. That’s all writing is. One word after the other.

Good luck, and happy writing!

[nikkigrand]

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

[zerooclockimagines]

Red Wine: Chapter 3

A series with Taehyung as the love interest but all members are in it (with some interesting side stories)

Warnings: mostly fluff so no warnings I guess.

Synopsis: Katie loves writing, her short essay wins an international competition and thus she gets to write the biography of the most famous band in the world; BTS. She has a lot of bagage and obstacles to overcome but along with her charming best friend Tara and seven sweet men she finds the world is not as bad as she thought, especially when she starts falling for one of them.

I woke up with the biggest hangover. “Oh God.” I groaned, holding my hand to my head. 

I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs for breakfast.

“Good Morning sunshine.” Yoongi Sang sadistically when I ran into him in the hallway. “Ugh, how are you not hungover?” I puzzled. He laughed loudly which made my head hurt even more. 

A few of the others were already down for breakfast as well. Seokjin appeared in front of me with a glass in his right hand. The content was a greenish smoothie. “For your hangover.” He explained. “It’s Seokjin’s secret hangover cure, works like a charm.” Yoongi endorsed."It's also good for your skin." He said. I chuckled. Of course it is. I took the glass. “Thank you.” He gave me a small nod. 

I emptied the glass at once and placed myself next to Namjoon and Taehyung, who were the only others already ready for breakfast apparently. Jungkook, Jimin and Hos- I mean Hobi were nowhere to be seen. They were probably sleeping off their hangovers. 

“Goodmorning Katie.” Taehyung Chatted. “Morning.” I answered. "Did you sleep well?" He looked up from behind his book. His soft eyes were hidden behind round glasses. I never thought someone could pull off such glasses but he did and he looked genuinely beautiful with them. "Not great, might be all of the alcohol I consumed last night." I stared at him and he let out a laugh. He damn well knew he kept refilling my glass of wine. "You could've said no you know." He raised one of his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes and took a croissant from the basket. Taehyung went back to reading his book. When he turned his head the veins in his neck stood out and his cheekbones hardened. Lord, why was this man so attractive? 

Get your head in the game Katie, I told myself. you have a boyfriend. You're here to work, he's your work. You can't just be thinking these things. 

I ate what was leftover of my croissant and actually felt better. I didn't know if it was the croissant or that weird smoothie Seokjin had given me but I was just glad I didn't feel like throwing up anymore. 

After a few minutes Jimin strolled in casually with sunglasses on and an outfit that looked like he had just picked some random things out of his closet. "Well I'm glad I'm not the only hungover one." I chuckled. He shushed me and sat down. "Taehyung why did you let me drink so much?" He groaned. I smirked. "See Taehyung I'm not the only one." Taehyung put down his book and looked at the both of us. Leaning a little bit forward so that I could smell his perfume. It smelled like a summer day at the beach. Without thinking about it I took it in with a deep whiff. Luckily no one had noticed. 

"You do know the word no don't you?" his expression looked sincere but his eyes gave away that he was enjoying teasing us. 

"Shut up." Jimin scolded. He looked like his head was about to burst. Seokjin handed him a glass of his hangover cure. He took it and drank it all at once. After he finished his face had an expression of disgust but it was gone after a split second. 

Taehyung had picked up his novel again and continued reading. 

Jungkook and Hobi never showed up for breakfast. When I asked the others about it they told me it wasn't strange and said they would show up at practice.

Jungkook was already sitting on the floor in the danceroom. His face looked pale and it looked like the inside of his head was spinning. His chocolate brown hair laid flat around his head. But with all that he still had a smile on his face. "morning." He cheered. "Good Morning Jungkook." I replied. The guys all began stretching and I went to sit on a small chair in front of the wall of mirrors. Hobi walked into the room. He looked, Okay I guess? Tired but he didn’t look as bad as Jungkook.

After they had done their stretch exercises, which often looked very weird to me, they started practicing their dances. I noticed they did them without holding back. They  gave it their everything even though this was just a practice. Taehyung and Jimin both had little ponytails on their heads and both lost them halfway through the song. 

I liked them better with their hair loose anyway. "So what do you think?" Namjoon breathed. "It was good." 

"Good? GOOD?" Jimin shouted. "we have to do it again guys, it has to be amazing." He then continued. I heard the others sigh. "I didn't mean it like that. It was really good guys. I'm just not sure whether it was brilliant or not. I thought it was great but I don't know anything about dancing. That's Tara's domain." I quickly adjusted my answer. "Tara?" Jungkook asked. "Her best friend, how drunk were you last night?" Yoongi accused. His blonde hairs were sticking to his forehead from the sweat. I couldn't help but giggle. "What are you laughing at?" Jungkook asked. "You were just as drunk." 

"Probably but I still got out of bed at an acceptable hour and don't look like a ghost." Taehyung and Seokjin bursted into laughter.  So did Namjoon and Hobi. "let's do it again anyway." Jimin ordered. "Relax Jimin it's fine." Namjoon countered him. "Okay we'll do it one more time." He added quickly after he saw Jimin's stare. 

I watched them do the whole thing over again. Jimin wasn't joking. He didn't care this was a practice, he gave it his all. He danced like this would be his last time.  It was amazing to see. Tara would love this. 

When the boys went off to record some tracks I decided I should start writing so I went back to my room. 

I installed myself at the table on the balcony and poured myself a glass of water. 

I wondered where I should start and what kind of story to write. Would it be better to begin from their debut? Would it be better to exclude myself or to include myself? Management never gave me rules about this. 

In the end I decided to let it come naturally and just write. The words came out fluently and I kept writing for hours. 

Finally I had written about then pages worth of material. I wanted to look it over and correct my mistakes but I knew it would be of no use because after writing for so long I wouldn't notice my mistakes anyway. 

Instead I rang up Dean. He should be on his afternoon break right now. 

"Dean speaking." He answered after the first few rings. "Hey." I peeped. "Katie, baby, this is a surprise." He sounded happy. "I'm just calling to check up on you." I glanced over the balcony to the view. "I'm fine Katie I just miss you. Can't you just come home already?" I sighed. "Dean this is my dream." 

"And what about my dream Katie? I want you home." His voice sounded steady and harsh. "Can't you just support me in this?" I questioned. "Support you? That's all I've ever done Katie and how do you repay me? You leave the country to go follow some idiots around." 

"they're not idiots Dean." 

"Oh, so you're defending them now?" He shot. "No I'm just saying." 

"I heard you Katie listen I've got to get back to work talk to you later." He didn't even wait for a response and just hung up the phone. Great, just great. 

"That didn't sound good." A voice behind me said. I jumped up. Namjoon was standing behind me. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you. Seokjin wanted me to tell you dinner is ready." 

"Oh" I said surprised. "you didn't think we'd let you eat all by yourself did you?" He asked rhetorically. 

I closed my laptop and followed him downstairs. 

"hey listen." Namjoon stopped me at the foot of the stairs. "I'm sorry if I haven't really talked to you yet. It's just that I don't let people in that easily. It took me months to get used to the boys and I live with them twenty four-seven." I smiled. "There's no need to explain yourself to me." I told him. "But I want to know you." He spoke softly. "You seem very kind. How about tomorrow afternoon say two o'clock we meet in the lobby? We can have some drinks, play some board games, if that's something you like to do." 

"I love board games, count me in." His eyes twinkled. "come on Seokjin hates it when we're late for dinner." I chuckled. That sounded like something he would do. 

Dinner went by fast. Half the boys were laughing over something Jungkook had said the entire time. I noticed yoongi and Hose- I mean Hobi, I really should keep that in my head, were talking amongst themselves through almost all of dinner. 

I helped clean up but I stayed away from the sink this time. My hand was still wrapped in bandages from yesterday. 

Seokjin thanked me for the help and told me to get out because he could handle the rest by himself. 

"So Katie want to play some more drinking games?" Yoongi teased. I felt my stomach twist. I wouldn't drink that much anymore. 

"No thank you I think I'm just going to enjoy the view from my room with a glass of wine and some snacks." He gave me a small nod and I left the hotel to find a store for wine and snacks.  I could just order room service but where was the fun in that? I was dying to explore a bit of Rome, tomorrow after my drinks with Namjoon I would do some more exploring, I told myself.

A few blocks down I found a small shop. An older woman was sitting behind a counter and grated me politely. "Good evening." I responded. I searched the aisles for salted chips and M&M's and finished in the wine rayon. This was where things got hard. I mean you always had this whole aisle dedicated to wine and I never knew what the good wines were. I wanted to know. I would love to visit some vineyards and go wine tasting, it is on my bucket list but I’ve never gotten the chance to do it. 

I stared at the red wines, I figured I should start there. There were still about forty wines left. This was a wine country after all. 

“Go for the bordeaux.” A soft voice breathed in my neck. I squeaked and turned around.

[atelier-dayz]

20-ish Questions: Book Edition

Tagged by the lovely @crispyjenkins <3

I’ve only just started getting back into the groove of reading again because med school sucked. ANYWAYS.

1. hardcover or paperback

I prefer paperback, mostly because they’re easier for me to hold when reading, lighter for transport, and they’re (usually) cheaper LOL 

I’ll buy hardcover if I know I’ll love the book a lot since they’re more durable or I’m too impatient to wait for the paperback to release.

2. rent or buy

Always buy. I...didn’t realize you could rent books other than textbooks? LOL

3. reads in silence or reads with music

I’m like 80% of the time listening to music so that includes when reading!

4. standalone or series

Either! It’s been a while since I’ve read books outside of medschool though. Most of the ones I’ve read recently are standalones.

5. annotations or pristine pages

I’m like incapable of writing inside books. LOL I’ll add transparent sticky notes and tabs if I do want to make notes. Or I’ll make notes on my Kindle for e-books.

6. ebook or physical copy

I prefer physical copy. 

However, considering I’ve been moving across the world and the US every 1-2 years for the past like...6-10? years and traveling a bunch, e-books are so much easier to transport, so I’ve been reading them more. And they’re often times cheaper and I had zero income with max debt.  (Also this way, I can store my favorite fics onto my Kindle along with my favorite books ehehe) 

All my physical copy books are currently at my parents’ house. :’(

7. dog ears or bookmarks

Bookmarks! Or whatever scrap of paper I have on hand LOL I don’t like folding my book pages... 

8. mismatched series or complete set

A mismatched set would bother the HECK out of me....

9. cover matters or you don’t judge

Oh I totally judge a book by its cover LOL Presentation is important! But it’s not like a deal-breaker or anything. The summary/blurb and author’s writing style is always important too. But I have totally bought another copy of a book I already had just for a nicer cover.

10. lend books or keep them to yourself

I used to lend/exchange books with a friend in high school. Now most of my friends are docs/med students so no one has time to read ;~; 

11. enjoys lit classes or despises them

Major mixed feelings. I loved reading (most) of the books we were assigned. I loved the creative assignments we got. What I didn’t like were writing essays. I got good grades and all and didn’t do poorly on them, but there was always something missing in my essays keeping them from like great vs good, according to my teachers. Turns out it was a cultural difference in presenting arguments, and so the Western structure of essay writing never jived with me even though all my formative schooling was in the US???? (NTS: I need to find that article explaining the difference between presenting arguments in the West vs the East. It had to do with like inductive vs deductive reasoning.) 

So yeah, mixed feelings on lit class. I did avoid taking one of the AP English classes specifically because of the damn essays.

12. browses shops or orders online

I love browsing stores, but haven’t had any time for that in years, so mostly ordering online. Also COVID is rampant here so no exploring the nice-looking indie bookstores for a while. ;D;

13. reads reviews or goes in blind

Usually go in blind. Exceptions for recommendations from friends or what people might be saying about the books in my spheres of social media. 

14. unreturned books or clean library record

Well, since I moved here, I’ve gotten a new library card! So far, a clean record. But considering COVID is rampant here, I’m sticking with ebook borrows right now so no unreturned books!

15. rereads or once was enough

Definitely rereads!!! Rereading JA now. I re-read Pride & Prejudice every 2-3 years btw. LOL

16. fanfic enthusiast or a stickler for canon

Considering I write fanfic? Fanfic enthusiast for sure! XD Sticking only to canon would be boring and so limiting!! And sometimes you just need that fix-it to glue your heart back together LOL  Canon informs my writing, but I don’t 100% adhere to it!

17. deep reader or easily distracted

If I’m enjoying the book, I’m a deep reader and will literally sit there and finish the book. No breaks. No sleep. Which is also why I haven’t read much in the past few years LOL

18. must read the book before seeing the movie or order doesn’t matter

Order doesn’t particularly matter to me. I’m not a big stickler on movies staying 100% faithful to the book. But yeah also not a fan of movies changing details that didn’t need to be changed. What I don’t like is when movies change or don’t include what I find an important scene in the book. (Like the execution of [insert scene here] means so much to me and you just -- LEAVE IT OUT???)

19. neat bookshelves or messy bookshelves

My books are all over the place, but uuuh usually starts out neat and then gets messy as I accumulate more books LOL

20. skips ahead or resists temptation

I usually just read straight through. I have been burned by the endings of several fics and books though, so depending on how the story is going, I might peek at the last paragraph. Just to be safe.

21. reads aloud or in your head

I can’t even listen to audiobooks or podcasts most of the time unless I’m like building furniture or something alkdfjas so definitely only reading in my head.

22. guesses plot twists or never sees them coming

I don’t go out of my way to guess the twists? Like if the clues are there and I pick up on them, great. I just sit back and enjoy the story? 

Tagging @kitsunekage88 @rinrinp42 @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone and @turtletotem <3

No obligation to answer these of course! This one is also kind of long LOL

Originally posted by thesunshineatsunset

[raiswriting]

bf!doyoung

request: cute annoying bf doyoung pls uwu

a/n: hey its rai. i just wanted to say thank you for being patient with me. this is the first time i’ve written anything in like 9 months so i hope its okay and pls feel free to leave constructive criticism. ALSO, i didn’t know what format anon wanted this in so im just gonna do bullet points like the doyoung college!au which is linked here if you wanna check it out. this can kinda be seen as like a sequel to that but like they are also totally fine as stand alones okay okay that’s it enjoy!

warnings: none (unless rusty writing counts as one)

genre: fluff

pairing: doyoung x reader

summary: doyoung is clingy and you’re trying to finish an essay

word count: 980 words

so lets say this is like a solid bit into your relationship with mr. kim doyoung

like about 6ish months

are yall in love? absolutely

actually he was the first to say it, on your 3 month anniversary

it was super cute and romantic, you guys were having a picnic and watching the sunset

you were busy painting some cherries (is that random? idk. oh well)

and you could feel him looking at you so once you finally looked up towards him he just blurted it out

now i wouldn’t say it caught you completely by surprise because prior to this you and doyoung did this thing where instead of ending a phone call with “okay bye i love you” you would always add something extra to the end of it

“okay stay safe!”

“i will. bye bye, i love you…r smile”

“later babe i love you…r positivity”

ya know cute shit like that

so when he actually said it all you could do was smile at him and say it back

and it was like everything was settling into place

it wasn’t necessarily fireworks and rockets going off

it was just like how it felt watching the sunset

calm

serene

peaceful

like everything was just right ya know?

anywho that was 3 months ago, let's talk about the present

you were currently lounging around with doyoung

well, doyoung was lounging, you were working on essay

or at least trying to

it was one of the unfortunate times where your schedules just hadn’t been working out lately

he was busy promoting and it was almost the end of the quarter which meant term papers and finals for you

so even when he got the rare day to relax and spend time with you, you were busy

and so even though you wanted to just spend all day cuddled up with him, you couldn’t

today doyoung was in desperate need of love and affection

tbh he just missed you and wanted to be near you

and right now you were all the way at the dining room table while he sat on the living room couch

which was entirely too separated for his taste

you were too into the essay to even realize that he had gotten up and was slowly making his way over to you

doyoung tried to loudly casually grab a water bottle to get your attention

when that didn’t work he tried to start up a conversation and stand directly over your shoulder as you type away

“hey y/n how’s the paper going?”

“good thanks”

“how much more do you have?”

“about 2 and a half pages”

“wow great job babe. do you want some water?”

he placed his water right in front of your face

“thanks but im good do. i just finished a glass”

“okay but what about a snack, you’ve been working for so long

“do, i appreciate the concern but i just want to power through this last bit and then we can watch some movies and order some take out.”

you turned your head up towards his and placed a kiss on his cheek before going back to writing

you couldn’t see how he huffed and puffed as he walked into the kitchen to brainstorm up another way to get your attention

he eventually decided on getting a snack for himself, some kettle cooked chips

aka the loudest possible chip he could’ve gotten

not only is it super crunchy but for some reason the bags are also super loud to open

or is that just me? just me, okay.

which was perfect

so he pulled a chair directly next to you and began to eat these chips as loud as he possibly could

and after getting about halfway through bag he realized that you would never tell him to quiet down so he wanted to up the ante

he started to hum regular

and the humming progressively got more and more intense

until he was not only full-on singing but he did ALLthe background vocals, drums, guitar riffs, synth beats.

literally every possible element of this song

and doing the choreo in his seat

all less then a foot away from you and your so close to being done paper

you sighed and slowly turned your head to him

“doyoung sweetheart. whatcha doin?”

he immediately gave you the puppy dog eyes

“huh? what do you mean y/n?”

you couldn’t help but give him a small smile because even if he was preventing you from finishing your work, you couldn’t stay mad at him

just look at him

hes too cute to be mad at

mad? no.

annoyed? a little bit.

“look doyoung i just need to do the works cited and then i promise i will give you all the attention you want”

“oh please. don’t rush on my account. i can wait as long as you need.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him before finishing the essay as quickly as possible before he starts singing simon says lmao

and he patiently sat beside you as you worked

well if patiently means you could feel him shaking his leg up and down and could ear the incessant tapping of his fingers on the table

finally, he watched as you typed the last word

you were barely able to save the document before he dragged you into the living room and onto the couch

laughter bubbled up from inside as he threw himself next you and simultaneously draped a blanket over the both of you

where did he get the blanket from? no clue. but now it’s here.

he snuggled himself into your side as he mindlessly put a movie on netflix

and tbh the movie really didn’t matter

because finally doyoung had you all to himself at least for now

and that’s all either of you could ask for

fin!

a/n: alrighty! that’s it. i hope it wasn’t too bad. i’m still trying to get back into the swing of things but either way i hope you enjoyed. sorry if it was all over the place or sloppy, i did a quick passover and edit but like i said i am always open to constructive criticism :)

thanks, rai

[hegglespeggles]

How to write an essay you could not care less about in 10 steps

Hello. I have an essay to write.

I am also, (unfortunately) the kind of lazy, apathetic burnout who will only do my FUCKING work if I get really worked up. Usually that ends up meaning all of my papers are spite-fuelled tirades but my profs seem to like them so fine. I hope you find this particular raging tirade useful.

Today, I would like to educate the 4 of you that will actually see this on a fine art I have perfected over the years. Writing a paper, about which, you do not give a single, solitary, crumb of a fuck about. This is (you may have guessed) and excellent way for me to procrastinate doing a paper that *I* do not give a single solitary crumb of a fuck about. For best results, I recommend doing this NIGHT-BEFORE-PANIC like, a week in advance so you can fix all the NONSENSE that your more reasonable brain will undoubtedly find. But if it’s the night before and you are shit outta luck, this will get ‘er done. And with practice, you can even pull good grades outta these bitches.

 Dissociating? I gotchu. Woke up the day of the deadline to feel like absolute utter garbage? Search no more friends.  

  FAILING GRADES ARE BETTER THAN ZEROS JUST FUCKIN DOOOOOO ITTTT

1.    Go get the prompt.

I fucking mean it. Even if you are like 1000% sure you know what the prompt is asking, go to the FUCKING assignment, and copy that shit into your word document. Got the assignment on paper? TYPE THAT SHIT UP MOTHERFUCKER.

(Do you see what I fucking have to deal with)

Boom?

BOOM.

Congratulations, you now have a document, and whats more, there are WORDS in it!! You aren’t starting from scratch anymore kiddo. Fringe benefit, you always know EXACTLY what the assignment wants because its fucking Staring You Down. Not saying you have to do exactly as it says, mama didn’t raise no BITCH and I aint scared of fuckin CALLING PROFS OUT but if you wanna break the rules you gotta know what they are first

(Disclaimer: I have also been kicked out of class on numerous occasions for fighting with the prof and had full classes where the lecture WAS me arguing so maybe take my opinions of conformity with a grain of salt.)

2.    Math THE FIRST

I know, this is an essay and not a fucking calculus test. But some of this shit is USEFUL OKAY

Take the paper in question. How long does it have to be? Mine is 5 pages. A page is generally accepted to be 250 words (double spaced because we FUCKING LOVE OURSELVES) so 5 x 250 = 1250 wds. That’s the goal. That’s the pinnacle. That’s your new holy grail.

Time to split this bitch up

  3.    Yarrrrrr, CONTENT

And finally, we get to the part that is the reason why you are being an absolute bitch baby about this essay (maybe. I might be projecting. Your life is your life and im sure youre doing your best.) I Hate this part, but now with our magic number we don’t need to pull 5 pages out of the ether.

This part really requires you to know your vibe. Is this something that you have a lot of little opinions (read: evidence) about or like, only 2 or 3 big bois? Look deep into your soul and figure out which is the easiest for you to shit out, a rant or a list. a  great way to do this is to WRITE ANYTHING YOU GOT OUT

Here you can see I’ve put all of the thoughts I have about the question into a list, slapped some standard “opening” and “closing” shit around it so I can FUCKING FIND IT AGAIN and given it a good hard look. Whats the common thread in all of my opinions? That the prompt is fucking stupid and makes no sense is asking 2 different questions. Congratulations: you found your thesis. This essay, like many of my essays, bears the thesis “this is a weird question to be asking” (which falls under my broader category of “bitches aint shit” essays.)

Congratulations you have the bare bones of your skeleton.

  4.    MATH THE SECOND

 The magic number returns. All hail our glorious leader. 1250 right?

So heres how I break this down. Break off a small chunk at the beginning. For this essay im gonna split off the 250. Split that baby in half. Congratulations, now you have a word count on your opening and closing. Personally, I know I like a lil extra space at the end to get all ranty, so Imma split this puppy up 100 for my opening and 150 for the closing. WARNING: You will think that you will be able to write enough in your opening and closing to take up lots of space. You will feel the urge to give them both the same amount of words that you give your points. This is misguided and foolish. Not only will you 1) not be able to do it but 2) even if you did, that’s like getting a sandwich which is all bread. No one wants that. Don’t be that dude. Fight the urge.

 RIGHT SO. We’re still left on the other 1000 words.

If you have an idea that like, is bigger than the others, go ahead and give that puppy more of the word count than the others, fractions are your friend here and you wanna think about how much of your final product each of these babies will be. If you, like me, are an utter buffoon with no clue what youre doing, open your calculator up. Divide the remaining word count by the number of points you have. Congratulations. Youre doing the essaying.

If this is enough to get you started, GREAT! See you at step seven. BEFORE YOU GO I would like to give you this tip

5.    CITE YOUR INFORMATION AS YOU ADD IT IN.

It doesn’t need to be a full citation, just literally a footnote with something that will help you remember where its from and for the love of god WHAT PAGE IT IS ON. The you of 3 hours from now will thank you.

  6.    Filling in the skeleton

 I don’t know about you, but I cant exactly riff off of a single sentence. Like, I know what the VIBE of my point is, but like, I cant pull it out of a hat. The name of the game here is whittling down your arguments into thinner and thinner chunks that are easier and easier to bullshit. This is how you avoid that “burning building found in flames during Brooklyn fire” bullshit that memes. You don’t wanna meme. You wanna pass. So, figure out what the things you are gonna say and in each bit, keep track of how many words you are gonna write. EITHER

a)      You put how many words you think you can write on any point beside the point as you go and just keep developing points and shuffling word counts around until it matches the total for that section

or

b)     You evenly breakup the word count between all the points and keep breaking them down until you look at a subject and a word count and go “yeah that’s doable. I can do that.”

I prefer the second so LEGGO.

Ta-Da!

7.    Write ‘er up

Ahhh glad to see we’re all back together again. Try-hards who can ACTUALLY bullshit papers, glad to see you’ve rejoined us! This is the part where you take all that shit you’ve broken up into nice little chunks and you turn it into something worth reading. You can do it. I believe in you. Try and keep your citations in place.

I like to do this as a question answer thingy, like an exam, so halfway through writing mine is gonna look like this

 The handy part about the numbers is that it gives you a frame of reference for how your bullshit is going. Realized you had a lot more to say here than you thought? Dope! Less bullshit somewhere else, take it out of a weaker point. This point didn’t give as much as you thought it would? Split the difference elsewhere! This way you have checkpoints and you can see how your essay is going

And then you can go ahead and delete your skeleton work. Its time. Its served you well. For extra drama, whisper menacing nothings to it as you send it into the darkness. Personal favourites include “no one will mourn you,” “your fate belongs to me,” and “so this is what you have come to”

  8.    Citations

Theres like a million ways out there to find out how to do your citations and its gonna depend on what kind of a paper you are writing. I use Chicago most of the time, including here. My advice? Use a site like, bib.me or something to do your bibliography, and then plaster that in the bottom of your document. Use that as the building blocks to do your footnotes. Let Purdue Owl be your guide. Purdue Owl Style Guide Is A Mighty Friend Indeed.

 Also your welcome for that, “putting the page numbers in as you put the info in” shit. That took me alarmingly long to figure out. It’s a wonder theyre giving me a degree.

  9.    Proofread that shit, ya bougie bitch.

If you wanna be time effective, getting a friend to proofread while you do your citations is a great way to go. If you have a few days, put your paper away and come back to it. If you are out of friends and time then https://www.paperrater.com/ is your last hope.

  10.       Slap a title page on that shit and GET IT SUBMITTED

 No joke, I have been using the same template for a coverpage all through highschool and my undergrad. There is only one title page and every time I write an essay I take the title page from the last paper I wrote. There is no beginning. Only title page. Title? Topic of paper: point of paper. For example, If I had to title this screed I’d call it Essay Writing: An exploration of mediocrity. slap the date and your name and the course and instructor on there and BAM. YA DONE.

 Anyway submit that shit an go to bed youre done goodnight

EPILOGUE

I’ve gotten this essay back, and when I wrote it, I was barely a human being. Barely capable of human speech let alone a coherent argument. I would forget the end of the sentence by the time I typed out the beginning. But I still for a 70%! is it the best mark I’ve ever gotten? no! but it is a hell of a lot better than the 0% I would have gotten if i hadnt done this. I get it. And i hope this helps.