#now it's five years and hundreds of thousands of words later and YOU'RE STILL HERE

[missmungoe]

HI HELLO, in no particular order - ✨🌿🎙️ (asking for a friend hehe)?

✨ What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Also answered here, but I have a lot of fics I wish were still being read, so let's do another one! Maybe Whose Heart is a Safe Harbour, my love-letter to Makino. It's about longing and hoping and growth, and the many people who adore her (and that one guy Dadan threatened to feed to the sea king for making her cry).

“You were friends,” Luffy said then. “You and Shanks.”

It took effort not to smile at the innocent statement, remembering his brother, not much older but shrewdly discerning a rather different truth. And it wasn't the only difference between them, but the thought only made her happy, watching Luffy now. Children grew into their own like sprigs in an unruly garden, irrespective of what anyone had to say about it, and there was something fiercely reassuring about the fact, Makino found.

And so, “Yes,” she said. Not a lie, although it didn’t come close to the full truth, but there was something about that cheerful innocence that she felt like preserving, if only for a little while longer. “We were that.”

Luffy nodded, as though to himself. “He liked you.”

She didn’t think she could have held back from smiling now if she’d tried, but it only prompted Luffy’s own, as though happy his words had made her happy. “Oh yeah?” she asked, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Did he tell you that?”

He shrugged. “I could tell.”

Makino tilted her head. “Captain liked everyone,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re special,” Luffy countered, not a beat missed. And it wasn’t a rebuttal, just a simple fact; a truth that hadn’t even paused for breath. “I think he liked you the best.”

🌿 How does creating make you feel?

Like I was made to do this.

🎙️ Which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

!! I mean, I'd be excited about a pod-fic of any of my fics, but if I could choose, it would be a chapter from the fic that's dearest to me, which is Siren's Call ♥.

[casteliacityramen]

[Previous] [PART 2 OF 2]

“I flew around a bit." 

"I overheard some talks about an open gala in Sinnoh and I decided to attend it. I’ll tell you the whole story about what happened later, but...

... Even when I was trying to relax, I couldn't feel comfortable with myself. Like… like wearing clothes that didn’t fit. The longer the night went on, nothing felt right. And I’m not just talking about the disguise.”

“You felt like a caricature of who you used to be.”

“Yeah. I knew I was going to feel awful when the Continental War was done and over with. I knew we were going to be reprimanded, or worse, but…” Rio frowns deeply, trying to gather her tangled thoughts together.

“I didn't think it'd mess me up as bad as this. I didn’t recognize who I was by the end of the night. I’m worried there’s no going back to who I used to be. I miss the version of myself who could go to a gala and not be miserable in the corner. It feels like that part of me died--that optimistic part of me."

“Do you get what I’m talking about?”

Rio waits with bated breath, only for Ray to curtly answer:

"Yes. And no?"

Rio feels her temper quickly flare up as she lets out a frustrated huff, "Whaddya mean by that?"

Ray raises his palms towards her, slowly.

"It's not that I don't understand what you're saying,” Ray turns to her and gives her a faint smile, "I like to think my experiences are changing me for the better. That’s where you and I differ."

“What, that you’re becoming less of who you used to be and more of… whatever this is?”

"A sub-par noodle penchant?" Ray laughed, throwing Rio's words right back at her from earlier that day.

"You know what I mean, Ray," Rio feels her face get hot. "It's as if..."

"... It's as if you're undoing yourself to make up for what you've done," Rio whispers out loud. The sudden conclusion steals her breath. "Ray, you're not doing all this to punish yourself, are you?"

"..."

"Please say no.”

"It may have started out that way, but that's not the case now."

“Ray…” Rio whispered in disbelief, out loud. 

“You may see this as me continuing a dead man’s legacy. But it’s more than that. This place was a gifted to me and came with a wish. I intend to honor that gesture.

Even though we can’t do any of our usual duties, that’s no excuse to stop acting like a shepherd.”

“If your version of helping the commonwealth is to further seat yourself into guilt, I can’t let you follow through with this.”

“You’re still not getting it, It’s not like that."

"Are you sure about that? Because it's all starting to sound like you're doing this as some sort of messed up way of repenting for your sins."

"I'm telling you, it's not like that."

“Ray, there's a moment when memorialization for someone else turns into hurting yourself." 

"Like how you visited your own gravestone in Johto? Do you really see all of your soldiers offering gifts in your memory and call that self harm? Didn't you just say that you're grieving over someone who you used to be? Is it really that wrong? To cling to what's left!?"

"For me, it is."

"We aren't mortal, Ray. This entire conversation we're having? This argument? All of it? This is what happens when we can't move on. We drag everything with us for hundreds, maybe thousands of years whether we like it or not. This is only going to bring you pain in the long run.

I’m sorry I blew up at you earlier today, but I still stand by what I said. You have no right to continue Tai Ishikawa's legacy, even if all of this was a gift.

All of this? Hanging around Ingram's descendants, Ayumi and Jack? Working an ungodly amount of hours for a tiny bit of yen? The past guilt alone will eat you alive."

"I'm aware of what happens to me if I stew in it. I've been here five years longer than you have,” Ray mutters. “Besides, do you think that I don't know how to live with all the pain I've gathered? Do you really think that guilt alone has made me stick it out this far?”

Of course not. But... she can't simply admit that.

She’s seen him on good days, bad days, and worse days. She's seen him scraping by with little money to his name but continuing to honestly run the business with a straight back and taut shoulders.

She shakes her head, unsure of herself. After all, she's borrowing words that Ray used to tell her in the past. She's not used to being on this side of the argument, which begs the question: are they destined to swap places again somewhere, sometime down the future?

"I've seen what guilt does to you, Ray. I sure as shit know what it's doing to me," Rio shakes her head, sighing. "I don't think this is only guilt... But there's more of it than I want to see. I don't need any more reasons to lose sleep at night if I can keep you from hurting yourself."

“Then…

... Are you willing to stop me? Stop all of this if I fly past that line?"

"You're already dangerously close. Some would say that you're already past the line of hurting yourself."

"I'm not."

Rio was hoping for any sense of weakness, any stumble over words, fumble in his convictions, but Ray continued to stare at her. Rio was the first to look away.

"All of this… It helped you?”

"It has. I’d love to have you here."

"Okay."

--

The two sit in comfortable silence. As the sun fades, so too, does the tension between them. With no further words to be exchanged, the rest of the decanter behind the counter is emptied out.

Ray makes a disgusted face with every sip. One of the unfortunate effects of their blessings is the rapid processing of whatever toxins enter their body, like alcohol. If they wanted to get remotely buzzed, they had to drink the stuff that was barely safe for consumption.

Which reminds her...

“I thought I’d get you this as a peace offering.”

“What is this?”

“Got it from the gala I talked about earlier. Wine from out of this dimension. Just like the guests."

“What?”

“Later. But guess what? I actually got drunk.”

“Bullshit. Why'd you make me drink the rest of that decanter? Pour me some.”

“You’re the one with the hands, you pour us some.”

Before Ray could reach behind the counter to grab the glasses once more, they are interrupted by the sound of a squeaky stool and a pained, muffled grunt at the end of the stand.

Jack sits in the seat farthest from them, his eyes never meeting theirs. His mouth opens, but it takes a long time for him to slowly form the words. He shrinks as he whispers:

“I don’t know where else to go.”

It's about time they get ready to open back up, anyway.

[Pinned Post]

[nxrthmizu]

happy birthday — tsukishima kei

pairing | tsukishima kei x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.6k

↪ part two of this

second chance // an opportunity to try something again after failing one time

tsukishima kei wasn't expecting anyone. sure, it was his birthday, but he did have work the next day, and wasn't very keen on drinking himself senseless into the witching hour.

since yamaguchi, his mother, and akiteru had taken it upon themselves to inform half of japan of his birthdate, kei had just spent the past four hours repeating 'thank you' to people ranging from his junior high schoolmates and strangers he had never met. he was certain that 99% of the players involved with the japan volleyball league had shown up, much to the amazement of his museum colleagues.

the bell rings for the third time, and kei is suddenly hyperaware of how annoying the sound is. he had just sat down, for goodness's sake— was it too much to ask for one minute of rest?

with his socializing energy at an all-time-low, kei nearly tears the door off his hinges, greeting his unwelcome visitor with a fierce snarl. "what do you want—" the words clamp down on his throat, breaking his airflow for a whole five seconds as he stares, utterly floored. "... y/n?"

"...hey?" you look sheepish, holding a small, one-cake-slice-sized box in your hand. he's known you long enough to know that you did your makeup on the fly— the tremble of your eyeliner is a sure giveaway. "... uh... is this a bad time? cause i can come back later—"

"no!" he blurts, hands slamming onto the door frame. he hadn't caught a glimpse of you in six months, ever since that fateful night when you walked out through the same door you were now standing in front of. there wasn't a single night in those six, grueling months that he didn't think about you, or the warm feeling of having you contained within his arms. sure, there were nights when you two fought, heading to bed with your backs faced to each other— but when morning came, you would somehow be in his arms, and somehow kei just knew that things would blow over.

except maybe they didn't.

left with too much time to think, he analyzed every little argument the two of you ever had, critically examining every word he uttered. perhaps the break was needed— the two of you needed to take a step backwards, re-assessing what you two wanted for each other, what you two wanted together. what you said that night hadn't be wrong— there were just too many issues being swept under the rug, too many things you weren't communicating about, too many problems he elected to ignore, in hopes that they would just 'blow over'.

"i mean," he clears his throat, lifting his hand off the doorframe, groaning at the paint scratch he caused. "would... would you like to come in?"

mentally, he smacks his forehead. you don't need permission to enter! in his mind, kei still considers the apartment your home, too. even if you haven't stepped foot within its grounds for half a year.

"if that's okay?" you smile softly, holding up your cake box. "you've probably had some already, but i bought your favorite. if you're full, you could have it tomorrow morning, before work?"

"no, no, i'm not that full." kei instantly assures, even though he's already brushed his teeth. on normal circumstances, he would leave it for the next morning, but what was brushing his teeth one more time if he got to talk to you for the first time in over a hundred-eighty days?

you narrow your eyes at him playfully. "don't lie to me, tsukishima kei. i can smell your toothpaste. i'll leave it in the fridge."

a fond smirk dances over his lips as you brush past him into your apartment, leaving your shoes where you always do on the shoe rack. the sound of your sock-clad feet padding past the living room brings a truckload of tension that kei didn't know he had off his shoulders, and all of a sudden, the house feels a thousand times cozier, even if nothing materialistic has changed.

he watches you from the sofa as you bustle around the kitchen, and he knows by the number of beeps on the electric stove that you're boiling water for tea— green, probably. the ration of tea packets are restocked regularly, because when you moved in, you brought your tea addiction with you, too. kei's been lured into drinking it on a daily basis, right after dinner, as a way of calming himself down after a day of work and practice. typically, tea would be accompanied with you, snuggled up against his side as he complained about the kids he met at work that day (you both knew that he had a secret fondness for them, but shhh).

"i hope you don't mind. i made tea." you say, bringing the glass teapot you were adamant on buying a year ago. it was one of the best purchases kei ever made in the apartment, because he was reminded of the worth every single time the two of you did your regular tea routine.

"of course i don't mind." he replies instantly, picking up his mug (the green one with tiny dinos on the edge). "this is still your home, too. you don't have to ask to do anything."

he pretends not to see the flash of surprise across your features.

"right." you murmur, pressing your mug onto your lips, blowing gently on the surface.

the two of you sit in silence for a while, sipping on your tea as the clock ticks onto eleven o' clock. suppressing the urge to ask you to stay, kei taps the surface of his porcelain cup rhythmically, forgetting that you know all his tells, front to back.

"is there something on your mind?" you ask gently, setting your mug down. he grimaces.

"ah... it's nothing." kei brushes off, not wanting to come onto you too quickly. for all he knew, you were just here to deliver the cake, not to reignite whatever was left of the relation he let simmer for too long...

"... right." the tone of your voice spells i-know-you're-lying-to-me,-but-i'll-let-it-go-for-now.

the silence continues, like a set prolonged. it's starting to get on kei's nerves when you (thankfully) speak again.

"happy birthday."

"thank you." even though he's said those words a thousand times that night, it sounds a comparatively much less robotic than it had for the previous thousand times. perhaps it was thousand-first time's the charm. "i mean it. thank you for coming over."

you wave it off. "i couldn't have not come. tadashi sent me an invite, but my boss needed me to work late and i didn't manage to make it."

ah, so that was why his best friend routinely glanced at the entrance nervously throughout the night. that explained a lot.

"i don't mind." kei takes a sip of his green tea, enjoying the warmth that courses through his chest. it isn't warmer than the warmth you give him, though. "i like it like this. ... just the two of us, i mean."

you contemplate him for a moment. "i like it like this, too." you confess quietly, as if whispering a childhood secret to him behind the karasuno gym.

he couldn't bear it any longer. he's always been patient, yes, but he's seen the looks his mother and brother threw him through the night, because they both knew that the one person that really mattered wasn't there. he was pretty sure his mother was just about to introduce him to some random girl before he excused himself for the night.

"will you stay?" he blurts, feeling very un-tsukishima-kei-like. it isn't like him at all, to be brash, and bold, but how can he? for the past four hours, he's talked to countless people— heck, half of them were volleyball celebrities— but not the one he wanted to talk to.

"do you want me to?" you ask softly, shyly, and kei knows that you're thinking if he wants you back— which is stupid, honestly. he knows that you're always thinking that you're lucky to have him, when it should be the other way around. kei doesn't think there's anyone else willing to put up with his dry humor, his hectic schedule, and his dinosaur memorabilia. if anything, he should be the one thanking the gods for letting him have you.

"don't be stupid." he snaps, cringing internally at how his tone came off. "of course i want you to stay, you're the best thing that happened to me. i won't force you, but—"

"i left some clothes here, right?" you cut him off with a hum, and when kei looks into your eyes, he just knows.

there's still a long, long, long way for the two of you to go. there's still plenty of things he needs to learn. there's a pile of issues in the store room that needed to be tended to.

for every million arguments there are a billion conversations where you two need to sit down and work out the knots. for every insecurity, for every misunderstanding, for every conflict, there is a needed effort to clean up the mess properly instead of just sweeping it under the floorboards. but for every tangle there lies between the two of you, there is a universe of room to grow, and change.

kei knows he's willing to make an effort, for you. kei knows that he's willing to do anything to make sure you don't walk out that door without looking back again. kei knows he's willing to do every single thing he can do (and can't) to make it work.

he knows.

he looks into your eyes, and he smiles.

everything is going to be alright.

haikyuu!! taglist: @ryuiki @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester @fandomsgotmefucked

[celestialholz]

What's that I hear? We need a 2.10 fix stat?

You're goddamn fuckin' RIGHT we do.

... I don't know what the bloody hell was on my theoretical screen this week - and I say that because I refuse to actually watch the damn thing through, thank you Qcard Discord beloveds for saving my ass on that - but I do know that it was a fucking travesty. I've seen the Qcard bit, and I do not approve. It was cute and all, but so very wrong. Mumsy Qcard is not pleased, to put it fucking lightly.

So, yeah. To hell with that. Let me just fix that right up for you all... this is how it SHOULD have been. Because unlike Star Trek, I am not a goddamn coward.

(I've heard that the fandom legend that is @alarajrogers is also fixing this car crash, and it'll probably be better than mine - royalty trumps the peasantry. ❤ And I'm sure we won't be the only ones - seriously, CBS. What is wrong with you? We can have ladies only previously seen with men, yet we can't have Qcard? You're just going to let Q die unfulfilled, are you? Bastards. 😒)

Welcome, dears, to the unofficial Q-uick Qcard for 2.10, which I like to call: Farewell... For Now.

"I am dying, alone. I am dying alone. I do not want that for you."

It was severe and heartfelt, and Jean-Luc choked on a bitter rasp of laughter.

"Well, you've rather miscalculated then," he said simply, "because your death means I am alone."

A hundred emotions flittered across an immortal face; they settled a second later on horror-tinged bewilderment.

"... What?"

"Oh, yes," Jean-Luc murmured, vague smile hopeless. "What, did you think I'd be fine with going back home to Laris, after all of this?"

Q was stricken. "I - yes, frankly -"

"Well, would you look at that." He chuckled, amusement only a veneer. "IQ of two thousand and five, and you still can't see it."

"See what?" Q almost snapped, desperate. "This is me, freeing you - you're supposed to grasp it with both hands -"

"Oh, and thank you?"

"No," came the sincere reply, instant. "I'm not doing this to be thanked."

"And I'm very glad," Jean-Luc told him coolly. "Because I'm not certain I feel especially grateful. You could have just allowed my fear to destroy -"

He found a finger on his lips suddenly, a wild tremor running through it, and eyes that wore pure despair locked to his.

"Look who doesn't understand, now." The whisper was pure agony. "I could never have allowed that, you complete fool."

Jean-Luc's eyes widened, and a moment of soft understanding passed between them.

"An impasse, then." He shook his head. "You've helped me realise that I've needed to let go of my mother's death for eighty-one years; I finally let go, I finally understand, and yet -"

"And yet, here we are." Q smiled painfully. "In the very same room."

"Why does it have to be HERE, for god's sake -"

"Mm, something like that." Q's face burned with anguish. "Go on, ask what you want to."

Jean-Luc inhaled clarifyingly, wishing to scream.

"Why me? All these years, Q -"

"Because the sun maintains celestial control," he told him simply, grasping his hand tightly. "Because the sun has been alone for so very long; because the sun without the moon has nothing. No equal, no companion... no hope."

A tear streaked down the admiral's cheek. "And because the moon being alone is temporary."

"You're with me," Q said softly, offering him a watery smile. "The sun wasn't strong enough, darling."

"... And the moon's meant to be?" Jean-Luc's words were almost frantic. "Perhaps the sun credits me with too much."

A soft laugh left Q. "Well, I am very sentimental about mon capitaine."

"... You've also always given him the choice," he whispered, and sorrow flicked through ancient eyes.

"Yes, well - you still have one, really." He stared steadily at him, willing him to understand. "Not here, but... later."

Pure hope burned in the human. "'Later'?"

"Later," Q said, warmly. "You've got the key."

"... The skeleton key," he noted softly, pulling it from his pocket; it gleamed in red and black, and Q closed his fingers around it.

"The skeleton key," he murmured. "Every door is open to you, my dear."

Jean-Luc breathed a bitter rasp. "But it's the only key for this door."

"Yes," the god answered, certain. "The sun only belongs with the moon, Jean-Luc."

"Tell me what to do," Jean-Luc demanded, furious. "Tell me how to bring you back."

Q's gaze shone. "You don't have to, Jean-Luc - tell me you understand that. I'm not doing this for a promise of -"

"Q." His voice brokered no arguments, every particle the consummate leader. "Tell me how to bring you back."

"I... there are loopholes, and there are no guarantees, but -"

"But the moon has no desire to be alone either," was the simple interruption, the passion blazing in charcoal eyes. "And he has even less to settle."

"'Settle'," Q quoted in disbelief, marvelling at the very thought. "You could be happy with her, you know, or some vague approximation thereof -"

"Laris is a good woman, and she frankly deserves better than I," Jean-Luc murmured, gaze tearful. "She deserves someone who could love her in the way that I do you."

Q choked on air, astonished. "You... you don't -"

"Oh, I do," the admiral confirmed, with a gentle smile. "And I suspect the sun doesn't go supernova for a moon he doesn't concur with on that."

Lips met his immediately, celestial tracks of tears dampening his withered cheeks with the joys and sorrows of the cosmos.

"No," Q breathed against his mouth. "No, he doesn't."

They kissed for a long, urgent moment, the sands of time slipping from the proverbial hourglass; the fusion of harmony and spirit and finally, finally having a true purpose in a wild, unforgiving cosmos.

"So," Jean-Luc whispered into him afterwards, a single tear streaming from him, too. "Not farewell, then, mon soleil."

"Mon -" Q inhaled sharply, hand trembling fiercely against his cheek. "More... á bientôt, somehow."

"Count on it." The promise was ferocious, deafening, and Q emitted a soft, stuttered sob.

"I shall miss you, nevertheless. Every moment."

Picard spontaneously embraced him, whispered tears burning them both.

"There won't be many," he vowed, as a hand rose ever so reluctantly to click. "For once, Q, let me save you."

A tender, intimate laugh left his god, and his head shook, gaze aflame.

"You're behind the times in more ways than one, dearest - you've been doing that for the past thirty-six years." His smile could have shattered diamond with its sheer warmth. "Je t'aime, mon capitaine. Bonne chance. And trust your instincts."

With a snap, Jean-Luc Picard was flung forwards a shattered man; he called off the detonation, and swore to every star he saw through the Stargazer's viewscreen, and the god he so adored, that he would rebuild.

[allexday]

jennie; perhaps you had reason to not notice in the beginning, when your bank account had five hundred extra dollars in it. it could've been a mistake, you thought. though when you filed to get it checked out, they insisted that the money deposit was on purpose. you were stunned, but you brushed it off.

there was no reason to not take advantage of the situation, so you treated yourself to your favorite food and bought some of those clothes you'd been wanting for a while.

however, you started suspecting things when the school called to tell you your entire tuition had been paid for. and then not even two days later, you got the call telling you your rent had been paid for the entire year, as well as your car fees.

although everything seemed too good to be true, you weren't necessarily upset about the recent changes.

not until you realized just who was sending ten thousand dollars every week to your bank account.

you admit it had been hard to track down. but she was the only one who could possibly be responsible for everything. you weren't mad, hell, you weren't even going to confront her. however, when you found out your apartment building had been bought by her, as well as your place of work... that was the last straw.

"ah, y/n, I didn't think you'd be here at this time of night," jennie opened her door, letting you inside of her massive penthouse. you were used to the marble floors and ceiling-to-floor windows, but seeing jennie in her silk robe was another thing entirely.

"ah, jennie," you mumbled, glancing away while pointing at her figure. she smirked, quirking a brow. "what is it, have you never seen a female's body before? come on now, we're best friends. no need to be shy,"

as she walked to set her glass of wine down on her stainless counter, you took a deep breath in. now was the time.

"jennie, I know it's you,"

you noticed how she chuckled at your words, winking at you.

"oh? haha, guilty. I knew you'd figure out I got us to be the next two new vogue models but I didn't figure it'd be this soon-"

"what? no! jennie, I know you're the one paying for everything! you're the only one I know who has that much money, and I want you to know that this isn't cool. you should've asked me first before doing any of it!"

your voice was slightly raised as you explained yourself, not noticing how she was beginning to frown.

"plus, you know I would've said no! I mean, giving me extra money to help me out when I need it is not the same thing as paying off my debt! or hell, buying the apartment building I live in!" you breathed, catching your breath. "it's like you're obsessed with me all of a sudden. you shouldn't be in this many parts of my life,"

you noticed she was clenching her teeth, and she no longer looked happy.

"you sound really ungrateful, you know,"

"wha-what?" you stuttered, surprised by her angry tone.

"it's not like that y/n! I'm your friend and wanted to do something for you, it has nothing to do with my feelings for you! stop acting like I'm in love with you!"

you were stunned by her words. she was glaring at you, absolutely furious, as she continued going off about how it was crazy to think she even liked you.

"do not even get me started on how poor you are! the fact that someone as powerful as me is even associating myself with you is what's really crazy y/n!" her words hit you, making tears well up in your eyes. however, she was so blinded by rage that she didn't see.

"you're a nobody, you know that? no one even knew your name before I started talking to you. and even then, they only fucking talk to you because you're my best friend!"

tears rolled down your cheeks as you soaked in her words. despite how rude and cruel they were, you knew, deep down, they were true. you've always known that you indeed would not be as successful if you were not friends with jennie. despite that, you took pride in everything you accomplished. you still worked just as hard, perhaps even harder than others, to get where you are now.

she suddenly stopped, her eyes wide as she looked at you. you were trembling, shoulders shaking, and face red. you were embarrassed and hurt. she was supposed to be a friend, and all she ended up doing was insulting you.

"y/n-"

"I think I should go. since you don't need me,"

you turned to leave, walking a few steps before jennie began rushing to you. she grabbed your arm, her grip tight and desperate.

"wait, where are you going, no,"

you shook her off easily, pushing her off of you. "there you go again, always demanding things. don't touch me," you didn't spare her a glance as you walked to the door.

she was breathing heavily, feeling as if the walls were closing in on her. her heart was racing as tears began slipping down her cheeks. what had she done? she didn't mean any of it. none of it.

"no, y/n, please," you ignored her, reaching for the doorknob.

"I love you, you fucking idiot!"

you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide. what... what did she just say?

she was sobbing, looking desperately at your back.

"I've even in love with you for so long! you didn't even fucking notice,"

it took a few seconds, but as you registered her words, you sighed.

"if this is what you call love, I want no part in it,"

then you left. just as quickly as you came, you were gone. you had slipped through her fingers, and as soon as her door shut, she was left in the silence of her thoughts.

no. this can't be happening.

as she cried, she suddenly had a realization. something she had never thought of doing before, but now considered it the only choice available.

she reached into her robe's pocket, pulling out her cell phone and dialing a number.

"yes, the person leaving. bring them back up here. knock them unconscious if you have to, I... I don't mind. just... just be gentle, please,"

she ended the call with a somber face. she wiped her tears, fixing her appearance. it wasn't over, she told herself.

she had enough power in the world to do anything. so why the hell was she spending it all on you?

it must be love, she thought. stupid love that she wishes she wasn't in.

that was a lie, however.

she would do anything for you. and if she did have a choice, she wouldn't hesitate to choose the euphoria she feels whenever you smile.

[afandommultiverse]

The Gift - Leopold Vermillion

Words - 2006 Request - TreueHyuga

A/n - I hope you enjoy it! I had a really fun time writing this one! Leopold is aged up to 18! So, so are you lol.

Y/n POV

"Come to think of it, your birthday is coming up, isn't it, Y/n?" Leopold grinned wolfishly at his girlfriend, pumped with excitement and happiness due to the celebration around them, the celebration for him! His birthday, his coming of age day.

"It is, Leo, why are you gonna plan a surprise party for me too?" You lured him close giving him a smooch on the cheek. It was you who planned the whole thing for Leopold tonight, the director of the whole galant party. It was a great surprise party, Leopold hadn't suspected a thing, some can choose whether that's a good or bad thing.

"No. Maybe. We'll see, won't we, my dear?" Leopold's arms wrapped around you, pulling tight and leaning in closely. His hand skimmed up your waist and back down your arm, pulling your arm out and whisking you to the dance floor.

"Another dance? We just got done with five!" You shrieked, pulling your exhausted legs after him. Pure adrenaline and euphoria powered your body, swinging it around and following his steps. Laughing and tripping some, maybe even almost running into a few people too.

"Never my dear, I never want to stop dancing with you. I promise this is my last selfish birthday wish." He smiled, twirling you in and dipping you to the music. You smirked and leaned in, mirth and tease swimming in your eyes.

"I wouldn't mind a few more selfish wishes." You whispered as he pulled you up, hand slithering across his chest and resting at his heart. Your voice practically poured incentive, selfish questions, and desires Leopold had wanted to ask you for years poured into his mind as he stared into your eyes, completely suggestive and seductive in their e/c shaded wake. He pulled you up fast, pulling to hold your hand against his racing heartbeat.

"Y/n, you ha-

"Leopold!" A fiery hand came to rest on Leopold's shoulder, stopping the much-anticipated words that would have left Leo's mouth. He turned, almost giving his brother the stinky eye but couldn't help but to smile. His brother had been gone for a few months, having to go on a long expedition. Giving you a quick apologetic look and a kiss on the palm of your hand, once laying against his chest, he let you go.

You were immediately cold, already missing his insufferable heat you just learned to live with, and heat you learned to love. You watched on as he chatted with his older brother, not blaming him for being so excited, it had been months. You pulled at his jacket coat twice to let him know you were leaving and he nodded, grabbing you're pinky and rubbing at it before letting you go.

"So, finally eighteen, huh?" Fuegoleon smiled at his younger brother, who now stood as tall and as prideful as the rest of his lion clan. Fuegoleon knew he was ready, and knew he would make a fine captain one day, maybe sooner than later.

"It seems so." Leopold grinned, he was jittery and bouncing with excitement, how couldn't he be?

"You might be trying to play it off but I know exactly what you're up to." Fuegoleon looked at Leo, completely aware of his little game.

"Your right brother,  only 59423 hours and 45 seconds left to beat you in becoming the captain of the Crimson lions. I think I can't get there before 25!" He grinned like a cat, eyes glinting with just as much point and mischievousness. He loved wagering with his brother, especially when it came to how powerful he could get. It meant more training!

"You are crazy... I'd like to see you try!" Fuegoleon huffed, shaking his head and walking away a smile hidden behind his back as he walked towards other guests. Leopold would make it alright, Fuegoleon was sure of that.

Leopold turned to look around for you, his looking over every person before they found him, draped across a wall and staring at him playfully, pointing a doorway. He grinned and looked around, before practically running towards you, picking you up and running to his room for nightly festivities.

***

Your birthday was in three days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand and twenty minutes. Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand and two hundred seconds- WHAT WAS HE GOING TO DO? He had been going back and forth for two days, thinking of what he should get you. Leopold had already finished with the planning, he knew he couldn't do a surprise party, because not only had you done one for him, you were too smart and Leopold couldn't keep anything away from you.

"Maybe Fuego or Leona could help." He muttered to himself, staring at the same paperwork he had been staring at for the last two hours.

"Could help with what?" Leopold practically jumped out of his skin, completely endorsed what to get you, he did expect you to be right behind him.

"Y/n? Oh! Uh, maybe they could help with this- this uh, work here, something about...  uh- blown up houses or something- uh what are you doing here, dear?" He pushed the pages away and turned to face you, smiling almost too widely. You stared at him weirdly.

"You okay?" You asked, coming to put a hand on his head, feeling to see if he was warmer than usual. He wasn't, only flushed and a little sweaty. You wiped your hand off on him and walked up, coming to sit on his lap sideways.

"Our mothers took me out dress shopping for my birthday gala, it was incredibly boring and so tedious!" You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and relaxing as he lifted his hand to comb through the beginnings of your hair, his fingers tickling the skin on the side of your face now and then when he repeated the motion.

"Luckily I found a gorgeous dress though." You turned your head to look up at him. His smile was as bright as usual as he smiled down at you, hand coming to rest against your cheek as he spoke.

"That's good. I'm sure It'll look gorgeous as I'm taking it off you." He whispered cheekily leaning in for a blazing kiss. You slapped at his chest jokingly, meeting his kiss with just as fevore and love as him.

Pulling apart, you two wanted nothing more than to continue, but Leopold still had decisions to make, and your mother still wanted to go jewelry shopping with you. So with one last craving kiss, you got up and left, leaving Leopold to go searching for his brother and sister.

***

"What should I get Y/n for her birthday?" Fuegoleon and Mereoleona stared down at Leopold with little interest.

"This is what you pulled us away for?" Mereoleona growled, staring at her little brother with anger but happy that he had come to her for advice. He never does, always opting for stupid Fuegoleon- who by the way, is the second born.

"This is serious! I can't think of a single thing! I've already gotten her everything before, and I sure as hell am not going to get some boring gifts, it's gotta be perfect!" Leopold crying looked at his older sibling with pleading eyes. Mereoleona sighed and rolled her eyes while Fugoleon simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, what do they like?"

***30 Minutes Later***

"And they also-"

"Okay! Leo, we got it! Let's move on!" Meroleona stopped Leopold from splurging any more useless information, already sick of his lovesick stories of you. Meroleona sat back and thought hard, she too stuck on what Leopold should get, if he hadn't already of gotten it for you, it was simply too stupid enough to get then. Finally, though, Fuegoleon spoke up.

"Leo, do you love Y/n?" Fuegoleon held Leopold's eyes, ready for a slipping leak of deceit, but found none when he strongly replied.

"Are you serious? Of course, I love them! Hell, I've loved them my entire life it feels! They are always there for me, always have been! Without them, I wouldn't be nearly as powerful as I am today. Without them, I don't think I would have ever made it this far. I can't even begin to think of what my life would be like without them." Leopold spoke with such ferocity it left him almost breathless, his chest burning with the love for you. Fuegoleon only looked on in amusement.

"Well brother, I think you know what to do."

***

The party was beautiful, walls draped in f/c silks, your favorite. Flowers of all kinds filling every vase dotted across tables and window seals, some even hanging from the ceiling. Entertainers performed around you, showing off for the guests and patrons. Music filling the gigantic halls of the ballroom, sending magical melodies swirling around the room. It had been a night of dancing and drinking, good food, and sweet desserts. Laughs and jokes were shared with good friends and guild members.

As the night grew colder and fatigue slipped into everyone's exhausted bodies, [pulling them to leave and seeking sleep in their beds and homes. Leopold had swooped you up and carried you out of the ballroom, pushing past departing guests and banquet wanderers with genuine goodbyes and courtesies, hoping to see each other again.

"Where are we going, Leo?" You asked, confused and he walked out in the night air of the castle, finding a special mage standing near, opening a portal and nodding us in, a warm smile on his face.

"To you're last birthday present, my dear." Fuegoleon smiled and walked through the portal, walking out into a forested area. You looked around, taking in the change of environment. A wooden cabin layout in front of you two, covered in vines and foliage. Fireflies lit up the entrance, buzzing around a small bridge passing over a little creek in front of the little cabin. As we walked across you watched as the fireflies buzzed around brightly, spooked and startled by the walking of Leopold's steps. You giggled as they flew around you and Leopold, some even going to the water and lighting it up, making out the shapes of fish and lily pads dotting the water's surface.

"Leo, this is beautiful." You whisper, looking up at the spiraling trees, watching the stars shine and twinkle down on you. Leopold only smiled at your astonished face, quick to get you inside and show you your final gift.

Leopold opened the door, walked in, and set you down. As you walked around the warm cabin, taking in the decorations and personal trinkets Leopold had brought, to what he would hopefully like to call your new home. Leopold watched as you took in everything, reaching in his pocket and grabbing your gift, getting down to rest on one knee. He waited for you to turn back around, looked at him questioningly, and watched the slow realization dawn on your face as he lifted the little box and showed you what lay inside.

A gorgeous ring, detailed to a royals perfection, with the stunning vermillion house sigil carved on the outside. A vermillion diamond rests between the golden prongs holding it in place.

"Leo." A hand covers your mouth as you look at him in shock and astound. "Do you mean it?" You asked, walking over quickly and staring down at the man you love holding your next step in his hands.

"I would never lie or joke about something like this, Y/n. I love you, and I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I can't live without you." Leopold spoke, eyes staring up at her with honest truth.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!! Of course, I'll marry you!" Leopold jumped up quickly and wrapped you in a breathless kiss, bringing you in tightly and finally letting go of all his anxiety of you saying no, no it was too early or something, but he needn't worry now.

You said yes.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 10

3rd Person POV

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than Harry, Ron, and Hermione had thought. In the weeks that follow he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he had cracked it.

Every time they pass the third-floor corridor, Harry and Ron would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy is growling inside.

Whenever Harry passes Quirrell he gives him a small smile, and Ron started telling people off for his stutter.

Hermione and (Y/n) had more on their minds than the Sorcerer's Stone. Hermione had started drawing up study schedules and the two had been color-coding all their notes. Ron and Harry watch in amazement as (Y/n) launches into some complicated Potions thing at Hermione's request and the brunette begins jotting down notes.

Harry and wouldn't have minded, but Hermione kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snaps.

"That's not ages," (Y/n) pipes up, "that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminds her. "Anyway, what are you four studying for, you all ready know it all!"

"What are we studying for?" (Y/n) exclaims. "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into our second year? They're very important, we should have started studying a month ago."

"I don't know what's gotten into me," Hermione chimes in.

Unfortunately, the teachers seem to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione and (Y/n). They pile so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It is hard to relax with Hermione and (Y/n) next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron bursts out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library windows. It is the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky is a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there is a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who is looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he hears Ron says, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffles into view, hiding something behind his back. He looks very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he says, in a shifty voice that gets their interest at once. "An'what're you lot up ter?" He looks suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," says Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St —"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looks around quickly to see if anyone is listening."Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," says Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone, apart from Fluffy -"

"Don't rope me into this," (Y/n) says, not looking up from her potions notes.

"SHHH!" says Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, studens aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"

"See you later, then," says Harry.

Hagrid shuffles off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" says Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry wonders.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," says Ron, who'd had enough of working. He comes back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slams them down on the table. "Dragons!" he whispers. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," (Y/n) comments, still gazing down at her notes, Snape had told her that he was giving her a more advanced exam than everyone else's. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709."

"Everyone knows that," Ron agrees. "It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got of wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" asks Harry.

"Of course there are," says Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles have spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" wonders Hermione wonders aloud.

. . .

When they knock on the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they are surprised to see that ll the curtains are closed. Hagrid calls, "Who is it?" before he had let them in, and then shuts the door quickly behind them.

It is stifling hot inside, and (Y/n) rolls up the sleeves of her shirt and Fang jumps into her lap.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," says Harry, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "We were -"

"Not me, just to be clear," (Y/n) interjects and Hagrid glances gratefully at her.

"Wondering," Harry continues, "if you could tell us what's guarding eh Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowns at him. "O' course I can't," he says. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — Is'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might want to tell us," Hermione begins."But you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," she finishes in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitches and they can tell he is smiling."We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione continues. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swells at the last words and Harry and Ron beam at Hermione, (Y/n) scratching Fang behind the ears.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that . . . let's see . . . he borrowed Fluffy from me . . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments . . .Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticks them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asks.

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knows Ron and Hermione are thinking the same as he is. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" asks Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," says Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry mutters to the others, (Y/n) rolling her eyes. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," says Hagrid. (Y/n) notices him glance at the fire, and she looks at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" But she already knows what is. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, is a huge, black egg. She nudges Fang off her and crouches in front of the fire.

"Ah," says Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er . . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" (Y/n) asks, studying the black egg.

"It must've cost you a fortune," Ron pipes up, crouching beside (Y/n).

"Won it," answers Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" wonders Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," says Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the eggi n the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hagrid looks very pleased with himself, but Hermione doesn't look pleased at all. "Hagrid," she exclaims, "you live in a wooden house!" But Hagrid isn't listening. He is humming merrily as he stokes the fire.

. . .

So now they have something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he's hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighs, as evening after evening they struggle through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. And it was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brings Harry a note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Ron asks.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispers.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. (Y/n) turns to give him a glare and the blond scampers off, reminding (Y/n) of a little ferret.

Ron and Hermione argue all the way to Herbology and in the end, she agrees to run down Hagrid's with the other five during morning break. When the bell sounds from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them drop their trowels at once and hurry through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greet them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid ushers them inside.

The egg is lying on the table. There are deep cracks in it. Something is moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

The five draw their chairs up to the table and watch with bated breath.

All at once there is a scraping noise and the egg splits open. The baby dragon flops onto the table. It isn't exactly pretty, Harry thinks. It's spiny wings are huge compared to it's skinny jet body, it has a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezes, a couple of sparks flying out of it's snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmurs. He reaches out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snaps at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" exclaims Hagrid.

"Hagrid," says Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid is about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leaps to his feet and runs to the window.

"What's the matter?" (Y/n) asks.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

(Y/n) bolts to the door and looks out. Even at a distance there is no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

. . .

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the last week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and (Y/n) very nervous. They spend most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urges.

"I can't he'll die," Hagrid says. "He's too little."

They look at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week, smoke furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There are empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," says Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron mutters in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," says Hermione loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bites his lip. "I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turns to Ron."Charlie," he says.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agrees that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week drags by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry, and (Y/n) sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appears out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he says, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There is a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" (Y/n) says, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The six of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's till dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love, Charlie

They look at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," says Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloak's big enough to cover three of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other five agree with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) rush up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispers, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

The other three try to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," says Iliana gently, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sits bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he says in a hoarse voice. "Oh no — oh no —I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

The others didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

. . .

"It's too late to change the plan now," (Y/n) murmurs to the others. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl."

"This could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert," Harry adds. "We'll have to risk it, and we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They find Fang sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they go to tell Hagrid, who opens a window to talk to them.

(Y/n) crouches beside the large boarhound, scratching behind Fang's ears.

"I won't let you in," Hagrid puffs. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they tell him about Charlie's letter, his eyes fill with tears, although that might have just been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

The 'baby' bangs its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) walk back to the castle, feeling as though Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

. . .

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do.

It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd have to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against teh wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," says Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate comes ripping noises that sound to (Y/n) as though the teddy is having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobs, as Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione cover the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and step underneath it themselves."Mummy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew.Midnight ticks nearer as they heave Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another— even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry pants as they reach the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them makes them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrink into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other, ten feet away.

A lamp flares.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, has Malfoy by the ear. "Detention!" she shouts. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) are coming — they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seems the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air, did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able do breathe properly again. Hermione does a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," (Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister. "You know that's my thing."

Chuckling about Malfoy, they wait, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks come swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They show Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all help buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione shake hands with the others and thank them very much.

At last, Norbert was going . . . going . . . gone.

Harry and Hermione slip back down the spiral staircase and (Y/n) grabs the Invisibility Cloak. She darts down the stairs when she hears a noise coming from the end of the hall and throws the Cloak over Harry and Hermione.

As the figure steps out, Filch's have looms suddenly out of the darkness. "Well, well, well," he leers at (Y/n). "You are in trouble, aren't you.

Harry and Hermione watch in shock and horror as Filch grabs (Y/n)'s upper arm and begins dragging her down the corridor.

Word Count: 3574 words

[whumpookies]

Merlin one shot, bit of humour can be found here

"No boat huh?"  Matthew muttered, scratching his head in slight confusion 

It was one thousand years later, and what would have been water was now fields, yet the Isle of the Blessed still sat on a hill in all its glory- the same hill that Talia and Matt stood facing. 

"No boat. That’s global warming for you," Talia shrugged easily as she placed down her longbow, making Matthew roll his eyes 

"So, what are we doing here?" Matthew asked as he sat on the hill looking down to the isle.

"Remember the last time we were here?" She asked, joining him sitting on the hill, their knees touching as they leaned back.

"Screaming vale, Doracha, cranky old woman, scarification of a soul to close the vail, Lancelot being an idiot, you warning the old hag..sure hard to forget, really. Why?" Matthew grinned cheekily. 

"Well, time for..revenge," she smirked. 

Matthew blinked..and blinked. "We're what?"

"Going to get revenge, well we ain't but..you’ll see," she half shrugged, laying back into the grass enjoying the rays from the warm sun.

"How? Or should I say why?" Matthew asked, looking over to her.

"Because I promised Lancelot I wouldn't get revenge...back then...didn't say anything about helping get revenge." Her eyes closed, unable to see the disbelieving look Matthew gave her. "You know he's gonna have kittens knowing what we're doing." She shrugged again, standing brushing the grass off her shoulders, Matthew following her actions. 

"That's why we'll tell him after we deal with the old crone," she grinned before grabbing Matthew's collar, dragging him down the hill towards the island.

"Just how are we doing this?" Matthew muttered climbing down the embankment.

"With a dragon." She answered, following him down the silence followed as Matthew stared at his best friend in shock. "A...dragon?"

"Yes, Merlin let me...borrow Kilgharrah"

"Borrow?" His eyebrows rose skywards, scepticism gracing his features. 

"Okay, not borrow...more like the dragon has it in for the hag, so we made a deal." Talia rolled her eyes before continuing along the field as Matthew huffed, "I don't want to know do I?"

"Nope." She answered, snickering. They carried on towards the Isle of the Blessed with a sense of mischief in their hearts.

"Just how did you get our swords and the longbow past the airport checkpoint?"

"You're really asking that now, Matt?"

"I'm curious, it’s not like you can say 'Hey officer, don't worry, just going to get revenge on Cailleach the old hag, then call a dragon, watch him eat her. Just ignore the swords, oh please don't check the blade, it's sharp. Oh look there goes your finger, don't matter if you hurry, it can be sewn on again!" Matthew counted off on his fingers, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"You finished?" She asked, rolling her eyes, once again asking herself why to the heavens. Surely deities were listening.

"Oh no, I've just started!" she sighed before clambering up the steps of the dry dock. "I actually said we're part of a cosplay team…"

"You what?!" 

"Now I bet you wished you never asked!" She cackled, walking down the dock, leaving a groaning Matthew. 

"You have no idea," he sighed.

It was as if time had stopped. The walls were damp, cobwebs spread in abundance, corridors dark until they spotted the light at the end of the tunnel leading to the altar. "How are we getting the old crone to come here? Not like we're sacrificing anyone...why are you looking at me like that?" Talia grinned at a very worried looking Matthew. "Don't worry, no scarification needed. Luckily Merlin knows a few tricks nowadays."

"Yeah, well he could at least get a haircut and a shave!"

"I think he's got the wizard look right down" she glanced over at him. 

"I still think Tolkien met him."

"What, to get the whole Gandalf look down?" She asked slightly confused

"Hell yes! Come on, both Merlin and Tolkien's characters have the beard and long hair… plus look what happened when you asked him to dress up at Samhain!" Matthew grinned, shaking his head. 

"Yeah..that was interesting," she agreed, her forehead creasing slightly.

"Tal, he declared Gandalf as a half-baked wannabe with a guilt complex the size of Albion."

"Point taken," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Then Lancelot laughed that much he nearly passed out."

"Wait till this year at Halloween you'll love it…"

"If you say Merlin and Lancelot as themselves, I'm so going to be there to watch," Matthew said. 

"Nah, I gave up on that, thinking Harry Potter and Dumbledore." 

The laughter echoed down the empty passageway as they broke into the altar area; it was still large and lush with green grass swaying with the wind.

"You know Talia if this place wasn't linked to the old religion it would be perfect"

"I've nothing against the old religion, just the old hag with a god complex."

"Well let's do this, it's gonna be a long drive back."

Walking around the altar, Talia's hand running along the cool stone as Matthew stood leaning against the wall watching her. 

"How are we doing this?" He asked. 

"Easily, Cailleach is listening to the old hag and is too nosy not to! You ain't getting a sacrifice to some old hag. So come on let's have this out!" She yelled the last part, her voice echoing around the walls as she jumped up on the altar, sitting on the edge. 

"Are we really pissing her off?" Matthew asked.

"I don't get pissed off," the voice croaked behind him. 

"Bloody hell, you old cron don't do that!" Screeched Matthew in a high pitch voice that would make an opera singer jealous as Talia doubled over laughing. Cailleach stood behind the young man all in her dark glory. 

"What do you want, guardian?" She said.

"Oh come on, Cailleach. No hello? It's been, what, one thousand five hundred years, give or take a year...or ten," Talia shrugged, grinning ear to ear as she crossed her legs on the altar."The last I saw of you guardian...you threatened me, and I don't take well to threats," Cailleach accused, her eyes squinting at her.

"I don't take well to you trying to kill Arthur, Merlin or Lancelot," Talia shrugged easily, surprised  by her anger

"It is not killing.."

"Really? A sacrifice to close the veil isn't killing?. Don’t you have enough souls in the underworld?"

"Not yet," she grinned, looking to Matthew 

"Dream on hag, we're taken," Matthew muttered, walking over to Talia by the alter, sword in hand. 

"So it seems that you are, child." Cailleach mourned at the loss of another soul joining her.

"See, I promised someone I wouldn't get revenge on someone else." Talia brought the conversation back on track. "Lancelot." 

"Yes Cailleach, Lancelot, but I spent the day with a very large green-scaled dragon and it seems he still holds a grudge," she smirked, evilly sitting forward. 

"Oh look, Talia, I think it just dawned on her?!" Matthew laughed as Cailleach searched the skies above her as the wind picked up.

"So it seems Matt. Heads up hag, we've got a visitor!" Jumping down, Talia grabbed Matthew, dragging her friend towards the wall as wings came into view. 

"Done my part. Good luck Cailleach," Talia yelled over Kilgharrah's arrival.

"Amazing how hard it is to get a dragon to meet the gatekeeper," Talia muttered as she pulled Matthew into the gatehouse. 

"We are not gonna watch?" Matthew asked.

"Have you ever seen a gatekeeper and dragon go at it?"

"Well...no."

"Me neither, but Kilgharrah said to stay out of the…" A crash and crackle of magic hitting something stopped them.

Both looked to the door. 

"I think I get why now." Said Matthew worriedly looking over at her before a crash followed as rocks flew past the doorway. 

"Oh, that's one pissed off dragon." 

Talia nodded, sitting on an abandoned table. "Wouldn't you be? That old hag nearly killed Merlin, tried to stop the path of Arthur."

"Let's not forget the whole vail crap." 

Sparks struck the door frame as Matthew jumped back. "Oh, the whole Veil needs a blood sacrifice and all that crap. She has real issues with wanting blood." 

Fire bombarded the area passing the door; the heat could be felt with ease. 

"Damn, should have bought marshmallows," Said Matthew bemoaning the loss of a good crispy marshmallow.

"Next time."

"I'm bringing the sausages as well then!" She shook her head as Matthew watched the show as close to the door as possible.

"Well, the old hag needs a peg knocking out of her." 

"Duck!" Matt yelled, boards, bursting, showering bits of wood in all directions.

Talia ran to the door shouting around it. "Kilgharrah get a move on you overgrown lizard! That almost killed us!" 

Matt stood brushing debris off his coat moving away. 

"Bit close," he sighed. 

"Just a bit." 

With the table upturned, they sat behind it, flashes of lightning and flames, crashes and bashes, debris flew past the door frame or closer allowing them to duck, roars covered ears and magic was yelled as it all continued...

"How long?" Talia groaned heavily.

"Three hours and five minutes, in other words, five minutes from the last time you asked." 

"Damn"

"Tal, tell them to quit," Matt moaned whilst cleaning his nails with his sword.

"And get my head blown off?"

"Come on, it's getting late, Merlin can only keep him busy so long!"

"Your point?"

"I'm bored, hungry and they’re being.." he pointed to the door as a lightning bolt struck close by, "...idiots, and they’re going to get us killed!"

Sighing heavily Talia stood, brushing herself off and stormed to the door. "If I die, I'm haunting you!" She muttered before diving out the door quickly as a whip.

Matthew listened intently to the point of straining his ears above the yells of casting, roars and the odd flame until…."THAT WAS MY CLAW!" A deep booming voice Kilgharrah echoed.

"Well if you weren't such an arse, I wouldn't have to stab it, you stubborn bloody dragon! And don't you start either you old hag!"

Matthew snickered, leaning against the wall, shaking his head as laughter rippled through him, whilst trying to listen as Talia continued to rant.

"...yes, I know! Get over yourself, Cailleach or I'll run you through old woman…."

Matthew shook his head, wiping the tears away "...oh trust me, I go to that underworld and I'll haunt you so much that you'll be begging to kick me out.."

He had to agree, she probably would. Talia could be annoying as hell, that was for sure.

"..Yea you're pissed at each other, I get that but come on! When Arthur gets released from Avalon you both need him, so give it a bloody rest! Don't start, you overgrown chicken...and don't you start you wrinkled old pug!"

The second bout of hysterical laughter struck the young man bracing himself against the wall, only Talia would insult a dragon and the gatekeeper of the underworld.

"...Right, that's it!!! I'm calling a truce till next Samhain. You, Kilgharrah, home till Merlin wants you, and Cailleach back till the underworld…no, not Halloween, that my bloody time you get Samhain the eve of Halloween!"

Attempting to catch his breath, Matthew began gathering his and Talia's things.

"Yes, I promise I'll call upon you next bloody Samhain...just...behave till then!"

Matthew cleared the doorway as Kilgharrah flew off, no sign of Cailleach could be seen.

"Finished venting?"

"They are like bloody kids I tell you! I ain't cleaning this mess!" She vented, walking over to her friend gathering her stuff from him. 

"meh, we’ll just call Merlin on the way back; he can clean it up," Matthew reassured as the two made their way back out of the old palace.

"Next year we'll bring Lancelot and Merlin. It'll be fun," Talie said. 

"Only if we bring camp stuff and food," he replied. 

"Deal"

"Cool. Hey, can we stop by McDonald's on the way back? I'm starving," Matthew asked as Talia rolled her eyes. 

"Sure, Merlin wants a happy meal anyway"

[mastrrt]

The Tigress Dilemma *fanfiction*

Usually, fanfic writers (such as I) have a hard time depicting complex characters such as Tigress, ergo this lack of this understanding about our characters can lead us to defile their original personalities and characteristics. I'm pretty sure most, if not, all of us are victims to the Tigress Dilemma, and this problem can only be resolved once Dreamworks has finished Tigress's arc. The Tigress Dilemma is basically what I mentioned above. We misinterpret Tigress and that could lead us to writing imposters instead. Now I have seen many fanfics, and all of them vary in the extent of how terrible their Tigress imposter is. I would say that for my fanfics, my Tigress imposter is pretty far off from the original character, but I feel I am getting there... it's a very slow progress, but every increment of time is making me better as a writer. Anywho, I'll be addressing some Tigress Imposter stereotypes. These stereotypes are the ones we want to avoid as much as possible. And if we do so, we can get closer to the original Tigress. Now, disclaimer, I am not here to tarnish the pride of any of you fanfic writers. I'm just here to point out my opinions and hopefully my opinions can do more good than harm. Also, to bring this blog a more positive vibe, I will be writing some Tigress stereotypes that we should all follow. But that'll be on the next post. 1. The 'Punk Girl School Bully' Type of Tigress. (LoA Tigress) Sleeves are for wimps... fat muscles... I got huge front teeth... i'll put your head on the toilet... pig anatomy on the facial region... you punk!... ILLL BEAT YOUUU UP!... girl that looks like a man... Those lines are all inside the ambit of any typical Buff School Girl Bully. And yeah, these types of people aren't the most likeable. Mainly because of their terrible ego and pride, their unmanaged temper, their constant screaming, and the fact that they bully. And these types of characters usually act upon their anger, and these types of characters are usually defeated by their own caprices. Now a lot of times, people usually confuse 'Punk Girl School Bully' as Tigress's characteristics.

For example, a lot of fanfictions tend to write this: Tigress was clouded with anger. How dare this cocky prick make fun of her name like that? She charged at him, trying to land a double fist strike on her belly, but it has seemed that her muscles were so angry that she suddenly turned into an amateur fighter and totally missed the cocky mite's stomache. Now she was even angrier. She gave a frustrated yell and pounced at the prick, driving her feet into a powerful tornado kick, but the man has sidestepped and she was too angry to use that momentum to execute another kick upon landing. Oh she was so so SO angry that everything turned red. Even though the man was merely a stranger, his smart remarks was enough to somehow make Tigress want to tamper him, as if her anger was derived from personal matter. Oh yes, Tigress was so weak that her peace has succumbed so easily to something as superficial as an empty insult. It isn't like she's a warrior who learned integrity, who lived by virtues and proverbs, and learned to swallow her pride the hard way. Nope. She was just the average hot head. "You! You idiot!" She yelled, driving her fist into arbitrary turns and twist with the speed of a toddler's fist in a fit of frenzy. And yet, after delivering such 'efficient' attacks, the man had avoided her punches the Muhammad Ali way. What's next? The rope-a-dope? Is that how weak Tigress became because of her anger? Oh, and since she's sooo angry, she also became majorly stupid! Since she's losing, she might as well become more desperate to win and because of this, she kinda lost 9/10 of her damn brain. It isn't like she had experienced worst before. It isn't like she's been in a tower surrounded by hundreds of adversaries, outmatched, outgunned, out everything, and still managed to escape through a genius idea to catapult her and her Enterprise out the flaming tower THROUGH the toppling flaming tower.

Look, Tigress can be hot head, but she doesn't allow it to manifest in a way that hampers her during battle. She's a warrior who for sure learned patience. Yes, she might have let herself succumb to her anger during the first movie (by trying to fight Tai Lung despite her master's efforts to stop her) but do understand that it was because of that cursed snow leopard that her father was just outright terrible to her, and 20 years of desperation and overwhelming commitment to kung fu led her to think that defeating Tai Lung is the key to Shifu's heart. Watch the Second movie through and through, with the eyes of a scrutenizing critic. If she is angry, it is usually to appear intimidating or lethal. It's a great strategy, escpecially now that her opponents would surely hold back once they hear the low baritone of her growl. But never, never, never, never, I assure you, did she appear angry and let that rage make her a haphazard, stupid, mess.

Also, fanfic writers tend to also write this: Tigress crossed her arms and growled. Po was so annoying! He wouldn't stop babbling about his new dumpling recipe. If he says 'broccoli broth' one more time, she is sure her dormant side would burst. "SHUT UP PO! YOU ARE AN IDIOT! YOU ARE SO CHILDISH! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE THE DRAGON WARRIOR!" And then, Po cried and ran away from the kitchen. The rest of the five gave her a look that could compare to the menacing glare of a thousand men, and they all left her to find the weeping Po. She sneered, she didn't need them anyways. She didn't have a family. And they were no friends of hers.

Tigress is not like this! She values her friends, and she talks to them like friends. Do no potray her the LoA way, because she's not always grumpy... and she is, by chance, grumpy, it's mostly for a reason. When the other five are irritated or even disgusted of Po, you can see that only Tigress smiles. And when she is in an argument, she usually deliver herself in a calm and threatening. Yeah, calm and threatening can be together. Tigress works as a paradox. I think the problem here is that people mistake seriousness and grumpiness as neigh synonyms. DON'T mistake those two different words with the same definition. Tigress is serious, but rarely grumpy in the way LoA/ fancfictions potrays her (just compare KFP 2 Tigress to LoA Tigress (there's a big difference I tell you that (mostly because she doesn't haphazardly turn into a big bish (is this even grammatically correct?))))

2. The Morally Deficient Tigress. I hate you!... you've always been terrible to me Shifu. So I hate you too!... you guys are not my family!... i have no family!... brat times twenty... your spoon is stupid... everyone is stupid... I don't wanna do this anymore... i'll turn evil in six seconds if you don't assuage my ego... cold hearted... insults everywhere... long sullen silences followed by mean comments followed by even more long sullen silences... angst angst angst for no reason... teenage i-have-20-pounds-of-eyeliner-under-my-eyes prototype. this type of imposter Tigress is probably one of the worst forms of Tigress out there. You cannot just ignore that she has been raised by two kung fu masters, one has morals that are so polished and perfect, and the other one with flaws but regardless still wiser than most. She's also follows a regimented schedule of supreme discipline throughout the course of her twenty-eight years, so surely she has been taught hardwork, patience, determination and other virtues that any average olympian athletes would typically have. Despite being called cold-hearted, stoic, perhaps even mean, do remember that she is also a HERO. With a hero's heart and the strength of a hero's mind. You can not simply ignore that she's a good person who had saved, quite possibly, thousands of lives, expecting nothing in return except the heart of her father and a place to reside. Do not mistake badassery with idiocy. Do not make her morally deficient like she's a little child with the mindset of a brat on a bad day.

Here's some examples of this nightmare: "Why do you keep these stuff? You're so childish, you don't deserve to be the Dragon Warrior!" Tigress looked around his loft, threatened by the action figures and the posters of the masters that adorned it.

Po frowned, "But... but... items like these have very big value to me Tigress. Especially my action figures, I cherish them because it's a large fragment of my childhood memories!"

Tigress did not understand. Of course she did not, not only is she whimsy, grumpy, angry and stupid, she also lacks understanding and lessons that can usually be self-taught at the age of twenty. She acts like a little child and that's all her morality is limited to. "No! They're wooden things with no value whatsoever. Stop being a fanboy. Stop being yourself! I can't support you! You idiot."

And she left the room with grandeur ---Sharpei Style with the hint of swagger. Five days later... "It's all your fault why we're here Po! All your fault. It isn't like you made a wonderful plan and I kinda destroyed it after this cocky douche made me angry and I decided to fight him and ditch your plan. And since my dignity got the best of me, it isn't like I'm blaming you 100% on our unfortunate demise when I know 200% that i'm to blame." Po tried to speak, but Tigress continued, "Ya'll should have listened to me! Me me me me! Me me me me!" The end!

Okay okay, it's a little too exaggerated, but you get the point right? Tigress doesn't act like this. She is kind and nice, she's truly supportive even with her doubts, and she loves and values her friends, albeit these traits are not exposed because it's overshadowed by her stoic demeanor. Whatever... sometimes light filters through her facade and you can see her vulnerabilities.

3. The Profesional Becomes the Biggest Amateur. Gets defeated by a few alligators who could barely fight... can't get unstuck from a rope THAT ISNT EVEN KNOTTED NOR THICK ENOUGH TO CARRY TWO POUNDS... can't get out a sticky situation even though she has been through worse... pathetic tiger... no longer has super strength that she has been gifted with. Now I'm just a thread's breadth away before typing a full fledge rant. Yes! I get it. She has been defeated by people who Po can defeat. She has been defeated by Tai lung and Po was able to defeat Tai Lung. But that was because Po was in a special situation, and it was truly only Po who could defeat Tai Lung (I'll adress this in a new post.) Have ya'll ever of this rule, in both film making and book writing, that authors must refrain from degrading everyone's intelligence so that a single character can appear in the caliber of a genius? Basically, what I'm saying is that you cannot make the five (escape Tigress) leagues weaker than their original selves just for the sake of making Po or your main OCs appear stronger. One, that's a terrible illusion that even a blind man can see through. And two, that's just disrespectful for a The Five. Not only are the five overshadowed, but ya'll also heavily disregarded the fact that they are warriors that did a lot. You're forgetting that Tigress can do this

Do not forget that she is the person who can do so much more. If you want a story where Tigress becomes a damsel in distress, and Po is the one to save her, DO NOT get her kidnapped by five wolves. Or ten. Or even twenty. Because this tiger can handle of them easy. Make sure she is defeated by a whole fudging army, or a bunch of hooded warriors who are thousands of years old and are as good as Shifu in kung fu. Make sure her defeat is reasonable and respects what she can do. KNOW what she can do, so that you learn her limits. Give her a challenge, give her a run for her money. Don't make her pathetic just because you want someone else to seem not pathetic. Us fan fic writers say that Tigress is hardcore. Awesome. Badarse. So maybe we should write her that way. Some fan fics I read write that Tigress got defeated because she was hungry or tired and couldn't fight against a few adversaries. I roll me eyes. Bro! You cannot make hunger the reason why she's defeated😂 have you seen what she ate during the first KFP movie? Her meals consists of tea and a small, chewy block of tofu. Please. She had trained her body and mind to resist pain in a way that wouldn't affect her during battle. And don't go destroying her stamina either. If she can go the whole night just battling a bunch of wolves, without even so much as passing out then pulease, don't make tiredness as an excuse. But there are some exceptions though. Like maybe she got tired because she drained her chi. Then that's understandable. So much work.

[mittensmorgul]

I'm so sorry if this sounds ignorant, and I'm sure you're tired of explaining it, but do views or "hits" on Ao3 mean anything? Because i'll see the posts about authors needing kudos and comments (which i understand completely) but i'll also see the view count and i'm like "but it's got so many hits, just go by that too!" So what goes into an author truly knowing how well they're doing?

Hi there! And yeah, I’ve explained how this works before, but I’m always happy to explain it again. Because it bears repeating. :)

Hits on AO3 mean very little. Someone clicks through to the fic, reads the tags and summary, maybe the first few paragraphs of a novel-length fic, and then nopes out without finishing. It still registers a hit.

Writing a multi-chapter fic posted in weekly installments that has a significant following? Yeah, hits are also meaningless here, because every time you post a new installment and all your dedicated readers click through to read the next chapter? They each register new hits. They’re not UNIQUE viewers to the entire fic, yet it can still look that way in the hit counter. And if it’s a 50 chapter fic that posts over the course of a whole year? The “compound” hits really start to add up, despite each of those unique readers only being able to leave 1 kudos (albeit multiple comments, if they so desire).

If something we post generates a thousand hits but only 100 kudos, it can start to feel like a lot of readers may not have bothered to read to the end, you know? If I make it to the end of a fic, I hit the kudos button. It takes literally one second, and in my mind it’s the equivalent of saying, “Thank you for writing this and posting it for free for my enjoyment.”

I personally don’t have the “false hits equivalency” problem that writers who post WIP’s do, because I always post complete works. Even when I’ve tried to post serially, I end up giving up after a few days and just going ahead and posting the entire thing. I tried to do that with Ultraviolet, posting a chapter a day, and lasted five whole days before just posting the rest all at once. I have no patience for drawing things out unnecessarily. :P

As a result, the hits count on it are artificially inflated:

2269 hits as of today, when I posted it back at the end of June. But heck, there’s more than 10% kudos-to-hits ratio, so even considering that I know a number of people had been reading along as I posted the first five chapters, that’s still a pretty decent average. Believe it or not, that’s considered to be fairly excellent as a hits-to-kudos ratio.

Now on to the thing I just posted a few days ago, Dean’s Days Off. I posted it all at once (note the posting date):

That’s a lot of hits, considering I can assume that most of them are not redundant, with the same readers clicking back through to read a new chapter. Still, even working under the assumption that A LOT of those are unique hits from different people, I’m left with the assumption that less than 20% of them actually read all the way to the end, because of the kudos.

This theory works FOR NOW, because this is a new story. I doubt many people have had a chance (even if they loved it and intend to read it again someday-- which is just wishful thinking on my part, but whatever) have had a chance to go back and read it again already, you know? So these are largely most probably original hits. But over time, there may be a fair few people who return to read it again and CAN’T leave kudos again. The hits-to-kudos ratio will inevitably drop over time.

Plus there’s also the factor in the other direction-- readers who click through and then download the story (I always do this with fic I love, partly because it’s easier to read on my kindle, but also because I’ve see too much fic I love get taken down by the authors, and I like to make sure I have a copy in case that ever happens). I have fic I’ve reread NUMEROUS times, but the author has no way of knowing how much I adore their writing in that case UNLESS I EXPLICITLY TELL THEM.

AO3 doesn’t keep statistics for downloads. Unless a reader tells me, I have no idea that they may have downloaded my story to read again. It doesn’t even generate another hit in that case, you know?

In any case, kudos, comments, OR hits-- none of them is a perfect gauge for readership. Hits may be meaningless. I think 3 of the hits for T&S were generated by me-- one of which was me noping out within a page or two of starting because there was no way in hell I was gonna keep reading, and two of which were unlabeled links to the effect of, “OMG I JUST READ THIS THING AND I NEED A MOMENT TO RECOVER,” which is an intriguing sort of post where the words “THIS THING” were a link to it... I had no idea, but lo and behold, I generated a “hit” to it. >.>

I’ve clicked on fic recs that from the description in the post sounded right up my alley, only to see something in the tags on AO3 that made me nope out of reading, or got a short way in to the story before realizing it just wasn’t my thing and closing out. All of that generates hits. Meaningless, meaningless hits.

I have opened fic, decided to “Mark For Later” so I can open it again and read it when I’m in the right mood, or when I have time to devote to it, or whatever. I have A LOT of fic Marked For Later. Still, opening it to mark it and add it to my list generates a hit. It’ll generate another hit when I do eventually go back and read it. Possibly generating another hit when I open it yet again trying to remember if I’ve read it... 

Or the worst-- I’ve had the thing open in a tab for two weeks hoping to find the time to read it, and every time Chrome refreshes the page (because Chrome does that) it generates a new hit... I kinda feel guilty about that...

Hits are ultimately meaningless.

Kudos at least have SOME meaning. A unique reader read the entire thing, got all the way to the end, and felt good enough about reading it to hit what essentially amounts to the THANK YOU NICE WRITER PERSON button.

Some people are willing to spend a little more time writing a comment. Anything from a “Thank you for writing this” to “Oh gosh I love this story, and xyz was my favorite!” all the way to leaving a running commentary on every chapter or a five paragraph book review at the end. Or heck, just an incoherent keysmash with a bunch of exclamation points.

Or one of my personal favorites, “I just read this again and can’t leave more kudos, so have this

I don’t understand the resistance to clicking the kudos button if you read the entire story and derived any enjoyment from it whatsoever. If you’re embarrassed about it, you can always log out of AO3 and leave kudos anonymously. No one will ever know it was you. :P

But I’ve had people ask me this before, wondering why they should even BOTHER hitting Kudos, and it’s like... you read this entire story, for the low low cost of zero dollars, and can’t be fussed to even click the Instant Thank You Button? That’s... shocking and frustrating as a writer. Some of my longer fic may have taken me HUNDREDS of hours to write, edit, etc. And it doesn’t merit half a second of time to click a button. I mean, sure, Dean’s Days Off is kinda short compared to some of my other work, but it still represents about 80 hours of my life. I spent about 80 hours working on that story. I spent several hundred hours working on Revenge of the Subtext. And even more than that working on Around the World in 24 Days. That’s a lot of hours. Can I get half a second of your time as an acknowledgement that it was worth it?

If I make it to the end of a story of any length, that’s automatically kudos. Job well done, Writer Person. You have suitably entertained me.

I admit that I am still personally weirded out by leaving comments, but I do try and force myself to, especially if it’s a longer work. I get this OH GOSH PLEASE DON’T LOOK AT ME BUT YOU HAVE GIVEN ME FEEEEELINGS mentality about leaving comments. I turn into Dean Winchester and clam up. I TOTALLY GET THAT REACTION to leaving comments. That’s why the kudos button exists in the first place. No embarrassment required. Just a Thank You that writers can acknowledge in a measurable way. Unlike hits, which honestly we have no idea how many of them even read past the introduction let alone the entire story.

I wish there were some more accurate metric for calculating just how well received our works are, but really this is all we have. We don’t have bestseller lists. Our readers don’t have to pay for our work. Leaving kudos or liking our tumblr posts is great, and lets us know at least our followers appreciate what we’ve written. Leaving comments is fantastic because we can share the joy, answer questions, reply to theories y’all have about our stories (heck nothing is better to me than having someone meta-analyze my writing! I LOVE THAT AND WOULD LOVE TO SQUEE WITH JOY AT YOU!). Reblogging our tumblr posts is like the ultimate recommendation. It says not only someone read and enjoyed what we wrote, but wants other people to find the thing too.That’s how we find new readers, especially if the post ends up tagged with stuff like, “OMG THIS WAS SO EXCELLENT!” or whatever. Damn near makes my week. :P

But if we post something, even if it gets tons of hits, if no one bothers to hit the kudos button at the end, it can very quickly start to feel like maybe nobody ever read all the way to the end, so why even bother...

I probably shouldn’t have turned this into an essay, but since that seems to be my trademark, I guess I’ll just go ahead and post it...

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 9

3rd Person POV

Hermione, who had come back with (Y/n) the day before term had started, takes a different view of things. She is torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row - "If Filch had caught you!" - and disappointment that he hadn't, at least found out how Nicholas Flamel was.

(Y/n) had opened her mouth to say something, but Fred and George had darted across the Common Room and dragged her away and towards Oliver Wood, her three friends staring after her, and catching her apologetic gaze before Oliver snaps at her to pay attention.

Oliver seems to be working the Quidditch team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood is becoming a fanatic, but Harry and (Y/n) are on Wood's side. If they win their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, they find that they has fewer nightmares when they're tired after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Oliver Wood gives the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall of their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" Wood orders. "That's exactly what'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at the words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he splutters through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going go be fair if me might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of team - besides (Y/n) - land next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," says Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which is all well, thinks (Y/n), but I don't need a repeat of what happened last time, whoever did it.

The rest of the team hangs back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and (Y/n) sprint straight back up to the Gryffindor common room, where they find Hermione and Ron playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron though was good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," says Ron when Harry sits down beside him and Hermione shifts to make room for (Y/n).

Then Hermione catches sight of (Y/n)'s face. "What's wrong?" she asks, a worried look on her face and Ron looks over at (Y/n).

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry tells the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," says Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," Ron offers.

"Pretend to break you leg," Hermione says.

"Really break your leg," at Ron's words, everyone turns to him.

"I can't," says (Y/n), then she signs. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville topples into the Common Room. How he had managed to climb through was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Everyone but (Y/n) and Hermione laugh, and (Y/n) leaps up an performs the countercurse. Neville's legs spring apart and he gets to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" (Y/n) asks him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Malfoy," says Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urges Neville.

"Report him!" (Y/n) agrees with the brunette.

Neville shakes his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbles.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Harry says.

"He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier," Ron says.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville chokes out.

(Y/n) feels around in the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls out a chocolate frog. She gives it to Neville, who looks as though he is about to cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," (Y/n) says.

"The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin?" Harry finishes.

"Thanks, (Y/n), Harry ... I think I'll go to bed ... D'you want the card (Y/n), you collect them don't you?"

As Neville walks away, (Y/n) looks at the Famous Wizard card.

(Y/n), reading the card, smacks herself in the face and everyone turns to her. "I found him!" (Y/n) hands the card to Hermione and she sprints upstairs and grabs a alchemy book from her nightstand.

"I never thought to look in here," (Y/n) says, sprinting back downstairs and over to her friends. "Snape gave me this a few weeks ago to read."

(Y/n) opens the book and flips through the pages. "Nicholas Flamel is the only know maker of the Sorcerer's Stone."

This doesn't have the effect she had expected.

"The what?" ask Harry and Ron.

"Honestly, don't you read?" Hermione asks.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," (Y/n) begins pacing back and forth, her friends watching, "it was a legend, but I guess now it's true." (Y/n) runs a hand through her (H/C) hair. "It can transform any metal into pure gold and can produce the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal. If I remember correctly, Flamel just turned six hundred and sixty-five."

"The dog must be guarding the Sorcerer's Stone!" Harry begins.

"I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone removed out of Gringotts!" Hermione finishes.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" exclaims Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it!"

At Harry's mention of Snape, (Y/n)'s mouth spreads into a frown.

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," says Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

. . .

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron are still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that (Y/n) remembers about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," she tells the other five. "If I don't we'll be behind in the cup. If we win, I'll show them ... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," Ron comments and (Y/n) shoots him a incredulous look.

As the match grows closer, however, (Y/n) becomes more and more nervous, whatever she told her friends and sister. The rest of the team isn't very calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it in seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry doesn't know whether he is imagining it or not, but he seems to keep running into Snape wherever he goes. At times, he wonders if Snape is following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons are turning into a sort of weekly torture for Harry, Snape seemingly getting worse in each class. Harry didn't see how he could - yet sometimes he had to horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

(Y/n) knew, when they had wished her and Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see her alive again. (Y/n) hardly hears a word of Oliver's pep talk as she pulls on her Quidditch robes and picks up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did (Y/n) know that her friends had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They had gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any signs of wanting to hurt (Y/n).

Back in the locker room, Oliver Wood had taken (Y/n) aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, (Y/n), but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

(Y/n) nods, a determined look on the Seeker's face.

"The whole school's out there!" says Fred, peering out of the door. "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry and (Y/n) exchange looks. "Dumbledore?" Harry asks, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred is right, there's no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. (Y/n) was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare hurt (Y/n) if Dumbledore was watching, Harry thinks. Maybe that's why Snape is looking so angry as the teams march onto the field, Harry thinks, which Ron notices as well.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," the ginger tells the other girls. "Look - they're off. Ouch!" Malfoy had poked Ron in the back of the head.

"Oh, sorry Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy grins at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long (L/n)'s going to stay on her broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron doesn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, is squinting fixedly up at (Y/n), who is circling the came like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they chose people for the Gryffindor team?" says Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awards Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter and (L/n), who've got no family, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville goes bright red but turns in his seat to face Malfoy. "I'm worth twelve of you Malfoy," he stammers.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howl with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves are already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about (Y/n), "I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -"

"Ron!" says Hermione suddenly, "(Y/n) - !"

"What?! Where?!"

(Y/n) had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which draws gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stands up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as (Y/n) streaks towards the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, (L/N)'s obviously spotted some money on the ground!" says Malfoy.

Ron snaps. Before Malfoy knows what's happening, Ron is on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitates, then clambers over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, (Y/n)!" Hermione screams, leaping onto her seat to watch as (Y/n) speeds straight at Snape - she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione watches to see Snape turning on his broomstick to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, (Y/n) had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand.

The stands erupt; it had to be a record, no one could remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! (Y/n)'s won! We've won! Gryffindor's in the lead," shrieks Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging a beaming Pavarti Patil in front of her.

(Y/n) jumps off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn't believe it. She had done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors come spilling onto the field, Harry sees Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped. Harry lands beside (Y/n) and they feel a hand on their shoulder and they look up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," says Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry and (Y/n) could hear.

The Gryffindors run to lift (Y/n) onto their shoulder; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry leaves the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He leans against the wooden door and looks up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. (Y/n) had done it, she'd shown Snape. . . .

And speaking of Snape . . .

A hooded figure comes swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walks as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry recognizes the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?

Harry jumps back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he sees Snape enter the forest at a run; he follows.

The trees are so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he hears voices. He glides toward them and lands noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbs carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stands Snape, but he isn't alone. Quirrell is there, too. Harry can't make out the look on his face, but he is stuttering worse than ever. Harry strains to catch what they are saying.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," replies Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leans forward. Quirrell is mumbling something, but Snape interrupts him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I —"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," says Snape, taking a step towards him.

"I-I don't know what you —"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hoots loudly, and Harry nearly falls out of the tree. He steadies himself in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't —"

"Very well," Snape cuts in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."He throws his cloak over his head and strides out of the clearing. It is almost dark now, but Harry can see Quirrell, standing quite still, as though he was petrified.

. . .

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaks.

"We won! (Y/n) won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping (Y/n) on the back."And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin!"

"Everyone's waiting for you and (Y/n) in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens," Ron continues.

"Never mind that now," says Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . ."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus'— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you man the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" asks Hermione in alarm, (Y/n) shifting thoughtfully on the desk she was sitting onto of.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," says Ron.

Hermione glances over at (Y/n), who is sitting silently, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What is it?" (Y/n) asks.

"The thing about the loyalty confuses me," (Y/n) says, jumping off the desk. "Who would Quirrell need to prove his loyalties lie to? Dumbledore right, what if Quirrell is trying to get the stone? What if that whole stuttering thing is an act? I've never been a hundred percent about him myself."

Ron shrugs her off, "It must be Snape."

"Not necessarily, not to be rude or anything, but I'm his favorite student," the others nod in agreement. Then (Y/n) turns to Hermione. "Who was sitting behind Snape at the first Quidditch match?"

"Quirrell," Hermione says.

"My point exactly," (Y/n) says but Ron and Harry shrug her off again.

"It's definitely Snape," Harry says and (Y/n) shakes her head and walks back to the Gryffindor Common Room alone.

Despite herself, she grins when she portrait whole swings open and the Common Room erupts into cheers as she steps through. Oliver and Fred come over and lift (Y/n) up onto their shoulder and everyone begins to cheer:

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

Word Count: 2963 words