#potato does crafts

[paranormal-potatoes]

i'm going to finish this hat today, i'm going to finish this hat today, i'm going to finish this hat today, I'M GOING TO FINISH THIS HAT TODAY GODDAMNIT

[mareliini]

ouuhhh fae village years how i crave to draw them.... i need them to be middle-aged and little silly about it

[ghoulie-gal]

eugh... i've aged

The birthday lines are. Something.

"Ritsu said it's your birthday so you can rob me ig, go for it"

"Happy birthday! It's time to inject you with new untested drugs, let's go 💕"

I love these little freaks but I will be going with Jabberwock today so I don't die. I couldn't get Haru's birthday line to come up but I was offered potatoes so nonetheless my choice is made

[btsbabe7]

Keep Me (In the Shadows)

Word Count: 5.4k

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, impregnation

Synopsis: The walls of Hogwarts contain many secrets of their own, but on a late night, you and Draco Malfoy find yourselves uncovering one of your very own.

“Is it true,” Draco begins, voice ragged and rough around the edges, “that everything in this blasted castle resets at midnight?”

You watch the way the hem of his ebony robe propels on a soft wind over the dusty cobblestone tiles of the corridor. He remains a few strides ahead as he always does, walking quickly, yet aimlessly. He’d once told you it’d been his way of deflecting attention. If his eyes remained straight ahead, naturally he’d be unaware that you’re following his every move or anyone else for that matter.

So, you trail him inconspicuously, keeping your eyes glued to the empty corridor walls, the back of his robe, and his platinum hair with no real destination in your mind either. Your only goal is not getting caught alone with him this late in the night when students are forbidden to be outside of their dorms. If one were to stop you two, say a professor, you’d both lie and say you were returning to your respective areas. Draco’s speed walking would be believable enough.

“I’m sure there may be some logic behind that, but ultimately, I doubt it…”

“And you and Potter? Did that relationship reset at midnight? Better yet, what’s the logic behind that?”

Draco practically spits the words out in spite and you come to a sudden halt as they echo throughout the corridor. His words are far too large for a space so empty, for a space where perked, attentive ears may overhear or eavesdrop. In a corridor where lurking eyes may pry around corners in search of the next day’s gossip, you have to be careful. It’d happened before, not to you and Draco, but other students, and their secret escapades had been aired out to all who dared to listen over the next morning’s pumpkin juice. Yet, Draco cares more about this than the idea of being caught and the risk of detention. You can sense it in the way his shoulders and back stiffen with his walk.

Tossing your left arm over your right, you give the upper portion a soft squeeze while inhaling deeply through your nose. Dust tickles your nostrils and the faint smell of leftovers fill the air. You take in the toastiness of roasted chicken, the garlicky herbs that had been marinated into bite-sized potatoes, the sweet cinnamon sugar coating that had been dusted over pumpkin pasties and handcrafted pies, and the savory aroma of buttered rolls as they all congregate in a single whiff. With a sharp exhale through your mouth, you spew your thoughts.

“And who told you that? Your loyal gang of servants over this morning’s breakfast? Crabbe and Goyle? Zabini perhaps? Is that why you avoided me in Potions today?”

Draco stops mid-step and glances down at the obsidian leather crafting the wholecut Oxford shoes laced at his feet. His inhale is just as sharp as your exhale had been and he spins on the heel so quickly that the violent whip of his robe is enough to take your breath away, even several steps away. His eyes laser in on you and the space between your bodies suddenly feels smaller. Tighter. Suffocating.

His strides are few, long and confident, and you know he’ll land in front of you before you have a chance to finalize your true opening argument. With the click, clack, clicking of his expensive shoes bringing him closer, you whimper.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. I want to know if it’s true. Why they’re saying about you and Potter getting back together, dating again, and when you were planning to tell me. All these nights we’ve been sneaking about the castle together and you didn’t bother mentioning it,” he hisses the words in a rush and sneers at the thought of you with the oh so perfect chosen one while he’s left on the sidelines. “You didn’t tell me you were considering it, considering him again. You didn’t mention it on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower, not in stacks of the Restricted Section, not in your dorm nor mine, and certainly not here, in this blasted corridor. Why not mention it a week ago when y—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Draco,” you snarl.

His brows pinch at the challenge, but your eyes go wide in alert from the words you know were close to escaping his lips. Lewd and shameful they would have been had they reached the atmosphere. You glance up and down the seemingly void corridor with those same wild, worried eyes. You know how things can be twisted to snare even the brightest and most innocent of witches, but the words that clung to his tongue wouldn’t need to be twisted in order to ruin you both. Your quick search is fruitless and you let out a shaky sigh while rolling your shoulders back.

“I was going to tell you, Draco, that I was considering it… considering him, again.”

“When?” He demands. “Or were you going to wait until my tongue was halfway down your throat? Again.”

“Before, of course! Merlin… What kind of girl do you take me for, Draco?”

“You and I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” Draco retorts and studies you smugly.

His lips seal in a tight line and fire and ice blaze in the depths of his eyes before he spins once more and storms off in a blinding rage. You watch as he strides off prematurely, before hearing you out. He mutters something about how he knew things were too good to be true as he continues down the endless hall. You watch the way his hand clasps the nape of his neck under his long blonde hair and he keeps it there for a good while.

Once you gather your own thoughts, you hurry your strides in an attempt to mirror him, but you struggle to keep up with his head start and longer strides. The perks of being tall, you remind yourself. When you do catch up, he’s almost at the very end of the corridor, a dead end anyways, but you snatch him to a halt by the hood of his robe.

Draco falters and lets out a guttural groan when the sound of a ripping seam cuts through the silence air in response.

“You’ll pay for this, Y/ln!”

You feel prepared now. You’re ready to make your argument, to stand your ground, to explain yourself. You know that you have the right words sorted out and that with Draco cornered, he’ll have to listen.

Until he turns to face you.

His pink lips are pulled into a grimacing tight-lipped frown and an indented line appears down the center of his forehead where his thick brown brows are drawn together. His eyes shift over your features erratically before settling on yours, sharp like a double edged dagger ready to pierce. Two furious, impenetrable walls of frozen silver. Your body frosts over and you shrink where you stand. You struggle to meet his gaze and chew on the inside of your cheek as your mind goes blank.

You can’t think.

You can hardly breathe.

And when Draco opens his mouth, you wonder how you’re still alive when your heartbeat is racing so rapidly that your chest could easily explode.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he seethes.

A violent flame dances behind the walls of ice in his irises as his gaze flickers over the features of your face in frustration. Your lips are reddened and cracked from nibbling at them in nervousness and your nose appears swollen and puffed as if you’re attempting to hold back tears. Draco would usually swallow his pride seeing you in such a state, but he needs answers, so he settles on the wildness behind your dark eyes before continuing.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “When he fucks you, do you think of me?”

Your eyes dart towards his and your cheeks grow unbearably hot. You choke on the words as if you’re the one who dared spout them out. You’ve never experienced Draco this livid. You’d never heard his words become this vulgar, at least not with you, and that makes you all the more nervous. You’d convinced yourself that these nightly escapades meant nothing to him, that you were nothing more than a girl he could use or discard at his own will. He’s Draco Malfoy for heaven’s sake, and he could have any girl he pleased, that had come with the territory of having power and money at your disposal. You’d thought tonight would be the last night when you’d received his owl and that he’d be alright with that fact.

Clearly you’ve never been more wrong in your entire life.

You watch his tongue glide across the smooth plains of his natural pink lips and the fire blazing quietly in the torches overhead reflect a glistening orange on the thin coat of saliva left behind. You fixate on his features, from those shimmering lips up to the bridge of his nose. Your eyes roam up to the very roots of his platinum blonde hair before retracing your gaze and focusing on his eyes once more. They’ve softened a bit, not from the fire in the torches, but from the fire now kindling between you two.

He lets out a scoff as if he’s annoyed by you, as if you’ve been the pain in his arse all along. Before your brain can register the noise that escapes the base of his throat for a second time, he delves into you.

His lips are the first part of his body that comes into contact with yours. They’re warm against yours and so pillowy soft that you can’t bear pulling away. Instead, you bring your arms up to his collarbones and allow your index finger and thumb to mold into the curved base of his long neck. His artery pulse wildly underneath your grasp and your heart warms at the rhythmic expansion. You love the feeling, the palpitating of thick blood quickening through his body, underneath his skin, all livened by your touch.

Draco takes the final step to close your bodies together more comfortably and brings his arms around your waist to mold you into the perfect contours of his slender body.

“I can’t stop,” he mutters against your mouth and drops his lips into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to stop, Y/n.”

He knows this will ruin you. It does every single time. With his lips against your neck and his words growing more desperate, lower and needier with each breath. You know exactly what he’s playing at. And yet, you allow your head to tilt back for more. More. More. And more. You’ll always need more of this, more of him. You rake a hand through the hairs lying against the nape of his neck. They’re course, yet silky in your gentle grasp and you close your eyes to the ceiling with a sweet smile as it drives him deeper into your flesh.

“Draco,” you purr.

He doesn’t bother responding with words. He only deepens the way he’s been working his lips against your flesh before allowing his burning tongue to trace a long column up the full length.

With this, you know exactly what is going to happen tonight and you take no desire in stopping it, not for Harry’s sake nor anyone else’s. In this very moment, it’s just you, Draco, and your desperate need for each other.

Need is a fickle thing and the need had begun long ago, long before your months of sneaking around to be together. It started when you were with Harry and Draco’s icy eyes would meet yours from across the room. Potions, the Great Hall, Herbology. Hell, even during their Quidditch practices. Somehow his eyes had always found yours in every room, and perhaps, some part buried deep inside of you liked it.

Every single glance had you feeling things Harry never made you feel during your three years of dating. It’s made you feel warm and dizzy as if you were going mad. Yet, nothing truly begun when you’d ended things with Harry. It’d been just before Christmas break. Harry planned to return home for its duration, so you had the comfort of knowing he’d be able to mend himself surrounded by those he loved, family and friends, while you stayed behind.

All your friends had called you mad when they discovered your frequent whereabouts—studying with Draco in the courtyards, his frequent smirks gifted across the dining tables during breakfast or dinner, his need to suddenly partner with you in Potions right after the break. You never truly expected them to understand the hungriness of your yearning for each other, that need for constant contact. Something in Draco’s presence had brought you back to a primal state of being, of craving and desire. Something feral melded in the deepest parts of your core and engraved itself in your very bones when his eyes met yours, but you couldn’t tell your friends that. So, instead of going behind Harry’s back, this is the alternative. This is freedom.

Draco takes a single step back and relishes the way you shiver when he releases a cool breath against the wet trail he’d left behind. He watches you slowly unravel from the ribbon of your high while shuffling out of his robe. Your eyes remain glassy and wide, glazed with lust as you work off his tie and snake it around your own neck before moving in to unbutton his shirt. The shiny black buttons are slick against your fingers as you round them out of each hole. One by one they expose a pinch more of his creamy white skin, so smooth and pale and familiar, and your mouth froths at the sight.

Draco manages to remove his belt from the buckle and unbutton his pressed trousers as you work at the buttons. By the time you’ve finished unhooking the last, his pants pool around his ankles with a soft thud. He backs you against an opening and hoists you up on the ledge of one of the many oversized lattice windows lining the corridor wall. Silver moonlight plays in the sharp grayish hues of his irises and you watch it as he focuses on you. He kneels to work your black stockings off and your stomach knots. He’s become quite the expert in doing this, managing to get the black fabric off and having your skirt and panties out of sight within seconds.

Draco smirks, a cocky smile that reflects his satisfaction after they plop onto the floor with a quiet thud. He drapes your legs over his forearms, hooking his arms underneath your knees, and stares into the void between your bodies. Your brows furrow as you study him. You swear you can sense worry creeping over his features. Perhaps the thought of you going behind Harry’s back has him rattled, or perhaps the idea of getting caught, even though you two never have before.

He relaxes his shoulders and lets out a sigh that would’ve gone unnoticed had you not been watching him. But the worry slips away just as quickly as it’d come, and in a few blinks of your eyes, the only evidence remaining is the gentle twinkle in his eyes when they finds yours again.

Murals of silvery grey fall upon you as the pressure between your thighs rings sharp. You need this just as much as he does. There are no games and the foreplay remains the small tiff you two just had as the aching pleasure of him slipping against you engulfs all your senses. You gasp in relief, eyes lowering at the feeling of his stiff sex gathering your sticky arousal. He teases your bottom lip with his tongue and grazes his chill breath over your warmth.

Draco watches you squirm uncomfortably on the stone ledge. He has to admit that this wasn’t the best place for sex and he hates the idea of your bare ass plastered on the dusty, frigid sandstone bricks, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t wait until one of you found a more respectful place to relieve yourselves. He couldn’t be bothered either when he’d led you to the stacks of the Restricted Section for the first time months ago during Christmas break, nor when he’d taken you in his dorm knowing his friend’s would be asleep in the same room. The list goes on, and yet, he needs you just the same now. He would’ve taken you in the Great Hall if he had to, would have risked everything to have lain you out like his own personal spread to devour whole. That’s how crazy you drive him, that’s how mad you make him feel, and he can’t wait another second. Not even when the idea of betraying Potter in such a way lurks heavily in the back of his mind, even after the whispers, the rumors of you two being back together. It’s the ultimate betrayal, but he cannot stop himself. He has no control over this.

Your mouth parts to let out a moan. As it does, Draco places his palm firmly over it, covering those beautiful lips and muting the sound before slithering between your decadent folds. His teeth sink into his bottom lip to rein in his own pleasure. You feel like a tight hug and he almost loses himself in the feeling. So warm, so comforting, so cruelly wet. Aside from the last fact, he’s sure this is what heaven feels like, what home should feel like, and he knows he can’t let this go. He can’t let this feeling of belonging be stripped away if he finally gets a say in it.

Your head rolls back with the first snap of his hips and you mewl softly. It’s only been two days and you’d magically forgotten how delicious and blissful the first taste of his cock is. You’d forgotten the pleasure in feeling his heat and hardness running deep along your walls and pulling your orgasm closer with each motion. He thrusts in again and your back arches. You watch your breaths fog against the exposed glass panes, weaving their own intricate patterns between ebony lattice, and it takes you back to the first time Draco had claimed your innocence.

On Christmas morning, after breakfast, you’d sent your owl from your dorm window with a letter that contained only two lines:

Restricted Section tonight.

Don’t be late, Malfoy.

Since that magical night in the stacks, you’ve never loved anything more. Every week for a month, you’d sought him out. It’d been pathetic, but you were unable to liberate yourself from the yearning of taking him again. Your need wouldn’t subside, even after you’d taken him. He’d turned you into this feral, insane being, and you found yourself chasing that body to body connection and the slow build up of your pleasure around his length endlessly.

Draco’s pants fill your ears with the sweetest melody as he plows into you, leaving no more room for nostalgia. With each violent rut of his hips, neither of you have the time to recover from the ecstasy prickling in your veins. The heat pooling in your core keeps your mind centered and your gaze focused on him.

“Draco...”

You watch him through heavy, lidded eyes, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip in a teasing grin as you watch his hips burst forward. The rhythmic sound of your skin colliding and his low howling heightens your senses. Suddenly, you’re keenly aware of the little ache unraveling like a ribbon in the pit of your belly, but also the bareness of his chest begging to be touched.

You glide your fingertips up the plain of his stomach, taking in the darkened hairs forming around the edges of his navel. You follow the faint trail up to his lanky chest, taking in the slight bit of muscle around his pecks before continuing up and over his shoulders. You curl yourself around him and trace circles over the bone when he falters closer. Beads of sweat form over the span on his forehead and you watch the way it collects like glistening raindrops against his scalp before trickling down streaks of his swaying platinum hair. You fight every instinct in order to spare him of the sensation of your fingers running throughout his hair and massaging into his scalp. He’d shutter in pleasure if you were to so, and right now, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Draco’s fingernails burrow into the flesh of your hips and you howl at the feeling, abandoning all prior thoughts. He thrusts forward. Harder. Deeper… Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. Then, again and again while a series of moans pour from your parted mouth.

“Tell me you won’t miss how good I make you feel?” He murmurs. “Isn’t that why you’re here tonight? Because poor little Potter cannot be bothered with pleasing his own woman? He should be treating you like the chosen one. Doesn’t he know you are?”

You bite into your lip again, but this time it’s to keep your mouth shut. You know there’s no use in telling him the truth, that Harry hadn’t as much as lain a finger on you in this way. Not once in all the three years you’d been together. Though, you know he’s wanted to. Draco is the only one that’s ever had you this way, completely defiled you, talked you down, brought you to your lowest and highest all at once.

Your eyes roll again as Draco steadies out his rhythm to catch his breath.

Surely the portraits will spread word in the morning of how they heard students moaning and followed the sound after seeing you and Draco disappear down an unlined corridor moments before. You’ll have to talk to Harry and admit it. That’s one thing you’re certain of. If you don’t, they’ll call you scandalous and Draco would get it worse. Dumbledore may even have to expel you faster than Professor Snape can chastise Malfoy for his lewd, unacceptable actions, in which his father, Lucius, will truly not want to hear about.

“Shit…” he hisses. His eyes snap shut and his lips tremor with his ragged pants. His nose crinkles and the movement of his hips grow erratic once again. With his grip tightening on your flesh, he lets out a low groan. “I’ve almost forgotten how good you feel. I might blow my load inside of you… teach you a lesson.”

“You will not,” you protest, straight faced and using all your strength to not react to the pleasure radiating throughout your body. “Draco, we can’t.”

“Or what? You’ll curse me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Draco sneers and leans down until his face is hovering above yours. He allows your ankles to rest against his shoulders, knees parallel to the ceiling. He watches the way you fight every instinct of pleasure, how you keep your eyes on his instead of allowing them to sink back, how you hold his triceps when you want nothing more than to have your hands grasping your aching breasts or to have them wrapped tightly around the base of his throat. He chuckles at the fact that you wish to moan, but your duty to privacy holds steady, keeps you quiet and whimpering instead of letting loose. And he watches in amusement as you slowly unravel with every swift and sharp stroke of his hips. As he does, he begins to realize just how much he actually cares about you.

“Tell him you’re mine,” Draco demands. “Tell me and tonight you’ll tell him so I can spend all day showing you how well I treat my personal possessions.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease. “Is that right, Draco?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

You let out a sharp giggle and rope him in closer by the back of his neck, so close that you can take in every breath exhaling from his lungs and pull them into your own. You watch the way the iciness in his eyes melts away and glaze over with something more warm and comforting. And your core ripples at the possibility of something more than lust looming between the both of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re this close already,” he complains, truly embarrassed for you by the look of annoyance in his eyes.

“Mmm… I think I am,” you whimper and grasp the lapels of his crinkled button up to yank him a breath closer. “Fill me up, Draco…”

He scoffs.

He is truly embarrassed for you, but you wish he could see himself panting, slicked with sweat, eyes soft, and looking so sexy whilst buried between your thighs. He’s the portrait of pathetic and you know you should make him beg.

“Beg,” you croak and yank him down until his lips are just above yours.

You throat stings, sore and scratchy from attempting to leave it shut as Draco plowed through your slick folds one thrust at a time.

“You’re insane,” he chuckles and glimpses down at your reddened lips.

“Only for you,” you whisper and swallow a moan as you caress the sharpness of his cheeks. “Make me yours, Draco.”

His lips tug into a sharp smile and he presses his lips against yours hard and hungrily. He’s tired of your games. Perhaps he realized that much sooner than tonight and the thought of losing you had become too unbearable for him.

“Fuck,” he huffs into the sticky air between the both of you before reclaiming your lips.

“Love your cock being buried inside of me, Draco.”

You finally moan against him. After all, you aren’t evil enough to keep edging yourself when you’re both this close. He pulls his mouth away, panting heavily as he plants his palms on either side of you and stiffens.

“Are you finished?”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means. It only confirms that he’s serious now, serious in showing you exactly how he takes care of what’s his.

He glances down at his hardened length, only the tip remains hidden inside of your depths, and the rest gleams in your sticky, sweet arousal. He wants to taste you, but more than anything, he wants to bury his load deep inside of you. He wants it so deep that it doesn’t dare to trickle out. He doesn’t care about the consequences this close to graduation; he only cares about you filled to the brim with a piece of him, no matter what it is.

He thrusts inside and watches the way you swallow him greedily. Then, repeats the action again and again in a rapid rock of his hips. He senses your falling apart—legs trembling against his body, eyes softening to a roll, your arousal warming to slick wetness, scorching hot with each plunge. He takes pride in his string of thrusts, delivering them in a steady rhythm. Though, he wishes to tear you apart, your freed moans keep him from doing so. They guide him and keep him steady like music in his ears.

He grasps your chin and pulls your lazy gaze back to him.

“Keep your eyes right here, darling,” he demands sternly. “I want to see the way they roll when you release.”

With clenched teeth, you attempt to snatch your chin back, but he keeps his grip firm and your maneuver hardly wavers as he picks up speed with a groan and chuckle.

“You thought I’d let you dominate me?” He teases, his chuckle cutting through your moans. “I almost had you convinced. But don’t forget, my love, I’m always in control. No one tells me what to do.”

You whimper as he presses a thumb into your mouth to pacify you before ripping through your depths. His thrusts grow quicker with each second and you have no time to recoup from the pleasure prickling through your veins and pulsating in every corner of your being like liquid fire. Just as your eyes begin to roll, Draco snatches your jaw, showing just how much in control he truly is.

“I wish Potter could see how well you take me,” he pants cockily. “Just imagine if he knew the way I fit inside of you. So perfectly, if I do say so myself. You should see the way your cunt grips around my cock. You should see how wet you are for me. I dare you.”

You hum against his thumb and the vibration ricochets through you in a deep wave as you dare to glimpse between your thighs. You catch sight of his cock, a pulsing red with a vein so thick that it looks as though it hurts, and your arousal coating the surface in a glistening sweetness. Draco watches with you and your head spins.

“It’s been two days since I’ve felt you tightening around me. I can’t wait to feel it again.”

You keep your lips clasped tightly around his thumb. Your mind can hardly think of a quip, let alone find any words to overpower him. You don’t want to. You focus on the way his cock feels slipping in and out of your depths at different lengths, growing unsteady with each sway of his hips. You focus on his silver eyes staring into yours and his mocking grin as you finally come to terms with the fact that you are his. You’ve always been his. He’s just known it much longer than you have.

A bead of sweat drips from the tip of his swapping bangs and plops against your bare stomach. Draco chuckles and slicks his damp hair back with one hand while using his thumb on the other to massage the moisture into your skin. He presses in with a bit more pressure in attempt to feel himself plunging in and out of you. He keeps his thumb pressed firmly against you and steadies himself until he feels the motion underneath it. In and out. In and out, bulging at the center of your tightening core.

“Perhaps one day you’ll write about how well you take me,” he purrs. “And we’ll fill our library with books on our lovemaking.”

“I’m sure such books already exist,” you gasp, recalling all the steamy muggle romances you’d read over the summer.

“Then you’ll read one to me one of these days. Share your findings?”

“I’d rather show you,” you whisper.

He smiles, almost faltering before regaining his composure and finding your hips again.

“Draco?”

“Mhm?”

“Tell me I’m your favorite,” you mutter and buck up against him.

He stops suddenly and his nails dig deep into your pillowy flesh. You feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and you smirk when his eyes land on yours again.

“Being sneaky are we?” He muses and rams into you.

His palm finds your mouth again just before a bloodcurdling moan slips out.

He does it again with a teasing smile.

Then again.

And again.

And again until you’re whimpering and trembling around him. You reach for his forearm, but he denies it and presses into you harder.

Your eyes roll and you grasp the ledge underneath yourself, but it’s too hard. You go for his wrist, the same one allowing his hand to keep you almost silenced. You shiver around him and your thighs go limp against his thrusts. It’s not long after that his pants turn into a sharp hiss and a new heat overwhelms you.

Draco falters on top of you and stares straight into your eyes as he fills you up to the brim with his warm seed. You search his eyes for any form of deceit, but you find none. There never has been, not when it came to you and him.

His hand slowly retreats and you let out a loud inhale, taking in the dusty air of the corridor before slinging your arms around his neck and rushing your lips against his. He tastes of tart apples, salty sweat, and the sticky strawberry taste of your lipgloss. You never knew you needed to taste such a combination, but if it came from him, you’d take it. You’d take it all.

“Y/n,” he mumbles.

“Yes, Draco?”

His eyes focus on yours as if the stars he’d once seen dancing around your face are slowly subsiding and the cloudiness of lust and desire fading.

“You truly are my favorite,” he breathes and runs a hand through your curls before peppering your lips with kisses. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

And somewhere deep in your gut, you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you hear those words, especially since you’d forgotten to confirm that it had only been a rumor going around the school, mere whispers. Someone had lied about you dating Harry again, but you don’t mind when the result of it brought Draco crawling back to you.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

December 2024

[pecancobbler]

cg ! viktor headcanons (arcane/lol)

— im being overtaken by brainrot help me !!!! i might do silco next js bc he's so dad 2 me :) but umm lemme know if u want more :3 !

-> cw: brief /neg disability talk

ARCANE ♡

☆ cg ! viktor that brings you along everywhere, it would be annoying if you weren't so well-behaved while he does his work. having your own spot next to his workbench, maybe even a couch that you end up dragging him to so you can take naps together

☆ cg ! viktor who ends up with his cane being sticker-bombed the moment he falls asleep, waking up to you curled up next to him and his cane covered in little stickers and painted fingerprints from your impromptu arts n' crafts

☆ cg ! viktor who is frustrated with being unable to carry you like a baby, having to settle for you being on his lap. majority of your weight on his better leg, heating pad on his bad one in case if it becomes too much

☆ cg ! viktor who can only fall asleep easily when you're small, feeling like he's successfully taking care of you. sprawled out on the labs couch with your head tucked under his chin, jayce having to throw a blanket on you guys before leaving

☆ cg ! viktor who ends up having to stitch stuffies back up, making play surgeries for you to watch so you can see that they're still ok. finding perfect threads to match them, or finding ones to stand out against the fur to make cute patterns in the stitching

LEAGUE OF LEGENDS ♡

☆ cg ! viktor who deems you as perfection already, not minding any of your big or little emotions and accepting that as something he can't change. modeling certain creations after you, making some to help regulate bigger emotions he doesn't understand

☆ cg ! viktor who ends up buying way too many parenting books, his logical scientist brain wanting to know every single way he can help you and better himself. perfecting the way he talks to you, once so rigid now gentle and soothing

☆ cg ! viktor who carries you around easily, tossing you over his shoulder like a sack o' potatoes while the hexclaw steadies you. pretending to not hear you when you squeal and bang on his back to let you down, only releasing you when you say the magic words

☆ cg ! viktor who can only be pulled out of his lab by you, staying in it almost day and night until you paw at his shoulders until he caves. letting you drag him around with no real fight, making sure to not go limp with his augmented body to not weigh you down

☆ cg ! viktor who lets you carve little doodles into his robotic arms, making sure you don't hurt yourself with any sharp objects as you do so. encouraging you to doodle all you want, reassuring that he can't truly feel it anymore as you carve a little "[name] was here ^•×•^" on his bicep

[kcrossvine-art]

G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to. 

 Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Ground nutmeg

Unsalted butter

Whole milk

2 eggs

Honey

Vanilla extract

The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.

AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves

Tastes like a honey graham cracker

But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread

Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good

If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking

Would pair well with milk green tea

Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)

Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.

.where honey called for, used clover honey

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.

The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.

Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.

If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

270 grams all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick unsalted butter

160 grams milk

2 eggs

110 grams your favorite honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

Muffin tray and parchment paper

Method:

Preheat oven to 350f

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.

 Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. 

In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring.  Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.

Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.

Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.

Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.

Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.

Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.

Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.

Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

[manicpixiejinxgirl]

Arcane as Thanksgiving

Vander: Is the one hosting. Made the turkey and it is subpar but made with love. He hopes to rekindle some old friendships and maybe even start up new ones. Delighted to meet Vi's girlfriend and her friends, and is anxious but hopeful about seeing the more... estranged side of his family.

Silco: Was invited by Vander and dragged there by Jinx. Spends the day making snide comments towards Vander until he gets drunk and then just starts hurling insults and accusations at him like the messiest wine aunt known to man. Brought a store bought green bean casserole so he wouldn't get accused of not bringing anything but left the price tag on it to make it clear that zero effort was put into it on his part.

Vi: Brought napkins and will be the one doing most of the dishes and clean up when the meal is done. Invited Jayce alongside Caitlyn mainly out of pity but now Mel and Viktor are also here. Torn between flirting with Caitlyn and sending death glares towards Silco. Does get in a full blown argument with him in defense of Vander after the passive aggression turns into full insults. Almost flips the table.

Caitlyn: Brought three different kinds of pies that she baked from scratch herself in an attempt to make a good first impression with her girlfriend's family. Very anxious and awkward but is trying her best to put her etiquette classes to use and play it cool (she's failing). Tries to get Vi to calm down at first but is now just trying to make awkward smalltalk with Vander as all hell breaks loose around them.

Jayce: Brought a mildly overcooked sweet potato casserole that he made using his mother's recipe. Very excited to spend thanksgiving with his favorite lesbians, and invited Mel and Viktor along bc where he goes he needs them to be too. Doesn't know anything about Vander but backs up Vi in the argument without hesitation. Only makes it worse.

Mel: Was definitely invited by Jayce under false pretenses. Came in hopes to get closer to and learn more about the people Jayce cares about. Brought something very elegant and handmade like cranberry brie pull apart bread. Like Caitlyn and Vander she tried to diffuse the argument, but eventually gave up and is drowning herself in wine hoping that she will forget all about this day tomorrow.

Jinx: Came with Silco so didn't feel the need to bring anymore food items, but did bring custom christmas crackers that she made specially for each guest. Sensed the tension between Silco and Vander and Vi and Silco, and decided to make subtle comments that she knew would lead to the big argument just for fun. Joins the argument on Silco's side just to further irritate Vi but fully does not gaf and just wants to watch the world burn.

Viktor: Was forced to come by Jayce and had no idea what to bring. Googled "What to bring to Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's family" because he felt that was the most comparable common situation to his and so he brought a semi fancy store bought charcuterie board. Hates big social events and didn't want to be here in the first place. Attempted to start a conversation with Jinx about her clear talents for crafting but now that the argument is in full swing he's decided to channel his discontent into helping her add fuel to the flames of the fight despite having no idea who any of the people arguing are (except for Jayce who he is mad at for forcing him to come here just so he could third wheel his little sister and her gf for some reason)

Ekko: Brought some garden fresh roasted corn and carrots. Came believing it was just going to be the Vanderfam and was mildly dissapointed when the Pilties showed up, but almost left when Silco arrived. He is the only one asides from maybe Viktor who knew instantly what Jinx was trying to do and spent the entirety of the meal trying to thwart her attempts at instigating a huge argument. He failed and is now glaring at Jinx from across the table who is smuggly grinning back at him.

Sevika: Brought the wine and then dipped. She was only invited because she happened to be there when Vander invited Silco so she came to bring the penultimate ingredient of all family arguments and then left bc she has better things to do.

[stllmnstr]

signed, sealed, delivered

Another drabble from an anon prompt! Started with this:

And turned into poor commoner Jaeyun x rich princess oc in a historical kingdom (so different setting but I hope you still enjoyyyyy 🫡) ps I usually write his name as jake but kept it jaeyun here to match the ask!

pps again I wrote this on my phone and it somehow ended up at 3k AND it's 4 in the morning. that's what you call a triple whammy, folks. enjoy and please excuse any mistakes 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Sim Jaeyun is turning twenty-two years old today. It’s an impressive feat, in a kingdom where making it to eighteen without succumbing to disease or illness or something more directly borne of war is becoming more and more rare.

But Jaeyun made it to eighteen. Four long years ago. And the years have only been adding up, surely, if not also incredibly slowly, since then.

The only reason he’s made it this far is because he’s smart. Not in the textbook kind of way. Jaeyun wasn’t born into a family important enough to be literate, so it’s nothing but a blessing that he’s as good with words as he is, considering that he can't read them.

It's mostly because he uses them so sparingly. After all, Jaeyun hasn’t made it twenty-two years by talking. He’s done it by keeping his head down and his mouth shut. Just like any good commoner.

He pays his taxes on time and only participates in illicit activities - namely, harvesting crops from one of the sixteen royal gardens - after the sun goes down. He wears average clothes and eats average meals and spends his days with other average people.

From a lot of angles, it’s uninspired. It’s hardly a life at all. But it’s his reality, and for the vast majority of the kingdom’s population, it’s their reality, too.

So Jaeyun, even on his twenty-second birthday, doesn’t have any grand plans. The only thing he wants to do is barter for enough flour and sugar in the marketplace, and maybe even some butter if the dairy farmer takes pity on him, to make himself something sweet over the fire tonight.

As he walks towards the town square, there’s a lightness in his step. Even with midday sun beating on his back and perspiration beginning to gather on his nape, he’s sure that today will be a perfectly ordinary day. In his mind, that alone is something to be immensely grateful for.

By the time he’s secured minuscule amounts of flour and sugar, his mood is still in high spirits. Even though the dairy farmer does not seem to be in an agreeable mood.

“I’ll bring you an extra bag of corn,” Jaeyun whispers conspiratorially over a stack of delectable looking cheeses. He doesn’t even spare them a glance. There’s no point, really. The grumpy old farmer still seems reluctant to give up a fraction of a stick of butter.

“What am I going to do with corn?” The man waves a dismissive hand at him. Jaeyun suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. At least the woman selling sugar had been susceptible to a little old-fashioned flirting. He has the distinct feeling the same tricks won’t work here.

“Potatoes, then.” Jaeyun has no idea where he’ll get potatoes. The royal groundskeepers have a tight leash on that particular crop, but he’s getting desperate.

That, at least, seems to catch the dairy farmer’s attention. Jaeyun’s gut is starting to twist a bit in dread at the prospect of making good on his promise, but the thought of having butter is already enough to make his mouth water.

Before he has the chance to find out if his offer was accepted, the sound of trumpets cuts through the clamor of the market like a knife.

Immediately, conversations cease. Identical flashes of panic flicker through a hundred sets of eyes.

Three sharp, short notes. A beat of silence, and then they’re repeated. It’s a pattern that every citizen knows well.

The announcement of a royal.

Which also means it’s Jaeyun’s cue to craft a stealthy exit. It’s not that he’s a wanted man, per se, but he’d rather not be on the list of people the royal guard are familiar with.

Turning quietly on his heel, he silently mourns the loss of his precious butter with a small pout. And then he bumps straight into Park Sunghoon.

He’s an acquaintance, more than a friend. But he’s also one of the people Jaeyun is closest to in this world.

“Woah,” Sunghoon raises an eyebrow when he notes the swiftness of Jaeyun’s escape attempt. “Didn’t you hear the trumpets?”

“I think everyone on this side of the border heard them,” Jake grumbles, not pleased to be stalled. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

Sunghoon just shrugs, stepping to the side to let him pass. But Jaeyun barely makes it three steps before he’s asking, “You’re not curious?”

Jaeyun pauses, eyes going towards the sky above him in exasperation. He’s not sure why Sunghoon always insists on speaking in riddles, and especially when he’s trying to be discreet.

Turning back to face him, he bites, “Curious about what?”

Sunghoon smirks. He has a piece of information that Jaeyun doesn’t. It’s a rare situation, and he’s planning to milk the hell out of it. “The princess,” he finally says. “Princess ___” He adds in a sing-song voice.

The space between Jaeyun’s eyebrows begins to crease. “What are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it that’s who’s coming right now. Our lovely, fearless, princess is about to be paraded through the marketplace.”

“You’re lying.” Jaeyun shakes his head. He’s sure of it. He doesn’t know much about the king that he supposedly serves, other than his penchant for stationing rather incompetent guards by the crop fields that grow corn, but he does know how he treats his children. Namely, his daughter.

His oldest son is actively being groomed to become the next king, of course. The second born has a nasty chip on his shoulder about it and tries to make up for it by training until he can defeat every last member of the military in hand-to-hand combat and outsmart them in strategy meetings.

And you. The youngest. The only girl.

Much like your mother, you’ve been relegated to little more than a prop. Rumors of your beauty have spread far and wide, but that’s the only thing you’re allowed to be known for. Your days are spent learning how to sit correctly, how to curtsy nicely, how to embroider with alarming precision. How to please others.

Jaeyun’s never lost too much sleep about it. After all, a life in the palace, even a suffocating one, is still a luxury. He doubts you’ve ever had to wonder where your next meal would come from. You probably have actual cake on your birthdays, not makeshift concoctions that would taste significantly better if only you had a bit of butter.

But Sunghoon is insistent. “It’s true. I heard it from Sunoo. You know, he’s friends with that boy that works at the palace.”

“Well then Sunoo’s lying too.” Jaeyun’s words are clipped. He doesn’t have long to slip away if he wants to be gone by the time the procession arrives. “She’s never been in public before.”

Locked up in a palace for your whole life. For a moment, Jaeyun almost feels sorry for you. There’s nothing he loves more than an open field, wide and endless, under a starlit sky.

Taking a step forward, Sunghoon shakes his head. His voice is low when he adds, “Apparently it’s her birthday today. That’s why she’s here. They want to show her off a bit.”

The shock fades quickly. It’s not that strange of a coincidence, Jaeyun supposes, that the two of you share a birthday.

Jaeyun shakes his head firmly. He hopes it conveys a sense of finality. “I’m not staying.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Suit yourself. But I know a spot with a great view.” He jerks his chin to the left. “Just over the butcher’s shop. An old abandoned attic that no one uses anymore.”

Jaeyun hates himself for hesitating. Mostly because that small window of uncertainty is all Sunghoon needs.

“Come on,” he urges. “No one will see you. I promise.”

And it’s not like Jaeyun has that much stake in all of this, but Sunghoon was right. He is curious.

What is it like, he wonders, as Sunghoon leads him up a hidden set of stairs to the attic he pointed to earlier, to live your life at the epicenter of a well-oiled machine?

Do you know? That people like him have to fight to survive? That making it to twenty-two is something remarkable? Do you care?

Jaeyun can’t imagine why you would.

Still, as the procession draws near, Jaeyun feels his heartbeat quicken with it. Until it matches the cadence of the horse hooves coming closer and closer.

Until finally, finally, he gets his first glimpse of the first real royal procession he’s stuck around for in years.

Until he gets his first glimpse of you.

You’re pretty, he’ll give you that, but the more he studies you, the stronger the strange flicker of… disappointment begins to swirl in his gut.

From your seat in the pristine carriage you ride in, your posture is impeccable and your wave towards the crowd is fit for royalty.

You look exactly like a princess. He’s not sure why he expected anything different.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, doesn’t seem so satisfied with the glimpses of you he gets from the attic window. Eyes still locked on your carriage, he says, “I’m going to get closer.”

“What?” Jaeyun hisses. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, actually. And no matter how much Sunghoon annoys him, he doesn’t want to see the boy thrown in prison. Or worse, dead. “What do you mean, closer?”

But Sunghoon is already gone. Disappeared down the stairs that the two boys entered from only a handful of minutes ago. And now Jaeyun is alone.

Sliding an open palm down his face, he watches as your carriage fades from his limited view. Flour and sugar still in his pocket, he’ll have to wait now. At least an hour, probably, before the coast is clear enough to return home. He just prays Sunghoon manages not to do something too stupid before then.

Maybe he does have a bit of birthday luck, after all. A few moments later, he hears footsteps on the stairs again.

“You finally saw sense,” he calls out over his shoulder. “I tried to tell you that a closer look at some girl isn’t worth risking your life for.”

But Sunghoon doesn’t respond. Eyes rolling, Jaeyun assumes that he must not have found a better view and is deciding to sulk about it now. Fully prepared to rub salt in the wound. Jaeyun turns around fully.

But he was wrong. It’s not Sunghoon that he’s looking at. Or at least, he doesn’t think it is.

The figure who stands motionless at the top of the stairs is covered in a dark, shapeless cloak that extends all the way to the floor and has a hood that fully conceals its wearer’s face.

It’s also at least a head shorter than his friend.

Still, Jaeyun can’t help but hope. “Sunghoon?”

As if suddenly remembering themselves, the figure spins on their heel, turning back the way they came.

A thick sense of unease is building in Jaeyun’s gut. He has no idea who this stranger is, but it’s not Sunghoon. Quickly, awful scenarios begin to plague his mind.

What if it’s a spy? He wonders. A member of the royal guard. Someone here to report him for trespassing, if not one of his worse crimes.

Jaeyun can’t let that happen. Not when he’s made it this far. With all of his reflexes locking into gear, he lunges forward. His long fingers encircle the stranger’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

Still, they try to shake him. And for a moment, they’re successful. The wrist in his hand slips from his grip. But Jaeyun doubles down.

This time, he’s less hesitant. When he reaches for the figure, he grabs them by the waist instead. The struggle is noble, but brief.

In the span of a single heartbeat, Jaeyun has the cloaked stranger pinned beneath him on the attic floor, his knees encircling their rib cage as his hands pin both arms above their head.

Chest heaving, Jaeyun assesses the sight beneath him. In the struggle, the stranger’s hood has fallen loose, revealing a striking set of features.

And hair. Lots of it.

“You’re a girl,” Jaeyun’s breathes, just at the same time a devastatingly feminine voice accuses,

“You.”

“Me?” Jaeyun frowns. He’s never seen you before. Of that, at least, he’s positive. He would have remembered a face like yours.

Delicate and feminine and pretty in all the ways that make his mind spin, you’re a vision beneath him. One that almost has him forgetting the severity of the situation.

That is, until you lay another scathing accusation at his feet. “The corn thief.”

“Corn thief?” Warning bells are starting to sound in Jaeyun’s mind again. He’s been seen. He’s been caught. “You do work for the palace.”

Still on your back between his knees, your hands pinned above your head, your gaze is discerning. With rather flat intonation, you state, “We’re all citizens of the crown, are we not? We all serve the king.”

“Sure,” Jaeyun concedes, “but you actually work for them.” The reality of the situation, the severity of jt, is not lost on him. “You’ll report me to your superior and have me thrown in jail.” Or worse.

The only acknowledgement you give is a slightly raised eyebrow. Jaeyun hates himself a little for thinking that it makes you even prettier. “You make a lot of assumptions don’t you?”

“Are you new here?” He retorts. Sarcasm embeds itself into every word. “That’s kind of how things work.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Even though he’s above you, even though your arms are still firmly within his grip, Jaeyun has to fight the urge to squirm under your gaze. And then you sigh. “I’m not going to report you.” Sending a meaningful look towards his hands above your head, you ask, “Could you get off of me now?”

It’s probably stupid, the way he obeys your command so quickly. But there’s something in your voice, something that rings with authority. He’s scrambling off of you with a speed that’s almost comical.

You are slower to rise, rubbing at your freed wrists while you draw yourself to full height. Looking at you like this, Jaeyun almost thinks that he must have hit his head in the scuffle.

You’re not just pretty. You’re gorgeous. Disarmingly so. Jaeyun would be the first to admit that he hasn’t spent much time around girls, that he doesn’t have much to compare you to, but he’s still certain you’re in possession of a rare kind of beauty. Or, at least, one tailored specifically for him.

Despite his sudden fixation, your last words still ring in his mind. I’m not going to report you.

“You’re not?” He’s hesitant to believe it.

“No, I…” you trail off for a moment, unsure how to phrase your desire. “I want to help you, actually.”

He really must be concussed. “You want to help me?”

“I mean, not you specifically.” Looking around the attic, you seem to be talking to yourself more than him when you mutter, “Ugh. Jungwon swore this room would be empty.”

Still, Jake hears you. And he’s stuck on one word. Jungwon. It sounds so familiar. But why? Why does he know that name?

It takes him another minute of wracking his brain, but he does eventually locate the source of the familiarity. Sunoo. Jungwon is the name of Sunoo’s friend who works at the…

At the palace.

It’s not like he’s surprised that you’re closely associated with the royals, but based on what Sunoo gossips about with Sunghoon, Jungwon works rather closely with the royal family themselves. With the princess.

For a moment, all Jaeyun can do is stare at you. And then he asks, “Who are you?”

Your smile is wry, and it doesn’t reach your eyes. But your curtsy is perfect, even if you’re mocking him. “Princess ___. It’s a pleasure.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes. How stupid do you think he is? He may just be a commoner, but he’s not an idiot. “Does that actually work on people? You know, the whole town just saw her ride by in a carriage. Literally less than ten minutes ago. And you,” Jaeyun makes quick work of scanning you head to toe, “are not her.”

“The whole town just saw Karina ride by in a carriage,” you correct.

Jaeyun frowns. “Who’s Karina?”

“My favorite handmaiden.”

Again, all Jaeyun can do is look at you. His jaw opens. Closes again. He has the distinct feeling he looks rather similar to the fish laid out on ice in the market beneath you. “You… you’re actually the princess.”

“Like I said,” you don’t bother to curtsy fully this time, just nod in a small bow, “it’s a pleasure. It’s actually kind of lucky that I ran into you here.” Jaeyun watches as your demeanor shifts, sarcasm turning to something far more serious. “So, corn thief, what can you tell me about the patrols they run near the corn crop fields?”

“Why?” Jaeyun doesn’t bother to mask his suspicion. “So you can reinforce them? Or apprehend me next time?”

“No,” you counter, “so I can pass the information along.”

It’s far too vague for his liking. “To…”

You look at him for a moment, as if deciding how much or your trust you’re willing to place in him, too. Finally, you say, “To people who might need it.”

Before he can press you further or ask what that means, Jaeyun hears the sound of trumpets again. A slightly different three note pattern than before.

“Shit…” You curse under your breath, Jaeyun hates the way it makes him feel hot beneath his clothes. “I have to go,” you tell him. “You know the old oak tree? The one near the mouth of the river?”

Jaeyun nods, suddenly distrustful of his voice.

“I’ll leave you a note there.” You’re already pulling your hood up over your head again, wrapping the cloak back around your body. “Check it tomorrow after midnight. It will tell you when and where to meet me.”

Jaeyun frowns. “But I—”

“What’s your name?” you interrupt. “I can’t call you corn thief forever.”

“Jaeyun,” he tells you after a beat. “Sim Jaeyun. But wait, I—”

“Tomorrow,” you reiterate, looking at him one last time. “After midnight.”

“But—” Jaeyun tries to protest one final time. It’s no use. You're already gone.

Out loud to an empty attic, Sim Jaeyun finally admits, “But I can’t read.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

STOPPP I'm kind of obsessed with them......

send me an idea for a drabble!

[donutz]

Shrimpo confession + Headcanons!!

You might not read this bcus its Shrimpo, but like... He's adorable..

— Shrimpo warms up to you, suddenly not hating burgers anymore..

Warnings: Bright colors; That's all I think

^^This is you(If you'd like to look that way)

"Does this mean I'm a girl?!" No, if you remove the eyelashes

It's kinda wonky but I did my best ^_^

☆Intro☆

When you two met, you were a newbie. A lot of the toons surrounded you, wanting to see who you were.

Of course, you were shy. There’s 17 different toons looking at you. One of them is looking at you with a frown.

“I HATE BURGERS!!”

You jumped a little, because of his sudden abrupt voice.

"That's Shrimpo."

“He’s kinda mean.”

“Kinda is an understatement. Also it’s kind of, not kinda.”

“Potato potato Rodger.”

After Shrimpo’s hateful statement, you just stared. You two made eye contact, and he looked away first! So you won!

You smiled at him, and he looked away again.

A day after that, you thought—

‘Maybe Shrimpo could be my friend?’

You hung out with Shrimpo, a lot. He couldn’t understand why you weren’t going away.

Why don’t you hate him like everybody else?

As days passed, he tolerated your presence more and more. Like not yelling at you as much. Somehow managing to be less of a hater, and him continuously losing ‘staring contests’.

You could convince him to do arts and crafts. Convince him to hang with the other toons, convince him to not bang his head on the machines. Say, why does he do that?

“... I DON’T… Know..”

Oh okay.

The other toons noticed obviously! Have you seen how calm Shrimpo was around them? Only when you’re around though. When you’re gone it seems like he’s more angry compared to before meeting you.

Dandy was walking around, looking for you and Shrimpo.

"Shrimpo!!"

He was walking around, with his hands on his hips.

‘Where did those gremlins go?’

He looked into a smaller room, seeing you.

'Oh!'

You were facing Shrimpo, the both of you sitting on your legs. With you holding his hands.

“Why.. Do you like me so much?”

“Well, it’s just that I was hoping for you to not hate me. So it resulted in me hanging out with you a lot. Then the more I hung out with you the more I started to like you.”

“It led to love, I guess. The other toons might not like you but I do. I like you a lot actually.”

Looking up from his hands, you two make eye contact.

“I love you, Shrimpo.”

You heard a gasp, but it wasn’t Shrimpo’s.

Sensing who it was, you got up, walking over to…

“Dandy!”

"Hey you..!! The toons sent me to look for you guys!" (That’s a lie, he did it himself)

“Oh wow really! That’s nice, it’d be more nice if you left!”

"... Yeah alright, just meet up with us in less than five alright?"

“Mhm.”

Dandy walked away. Mainly happy because his theories are right, you two do love each other! He thinks…

You turn around, looking for Shrimpo.

“Shrimpo?”

You could see his little feet hiding behind the wall.

“Aww, silly.”

You came back to him, holding his hands once more. There he was, red as ever.

You’d think that if he got any more red he’d cook himself.

“So..? Do you love me back?”

“...YES. LET’S GO” 

He quickly got up and dragged you over to where the rest of the toons were.

Headcanons—!!

Yells at everybody, except you

Of course he still yells at you, but not as much when it comes to the others

He’s actually started to stop banging his head on the machines, or tries to

You’re very important to him, just your presence can calm him down

That’s one of the reasons Dandy suspected he liked you

Because of how calm Shrimpo was acting around you

All of a sudden he likes burgers.. I wonder why..

Minus burgers, if you’re any type of thing, food, anything really, he’ll like whatever visible trait you have

Like if you were a tape type of character then he would suddenly like tape

PDA is a no no, it’s not like an ego thing or like embarrassment thing(That’s another lie, he gets really embarrassed) he just feels off about public displays of affection

He gets pretty cuddly in private, probably the little spoon, but wouldn’t mind switching it

He’s soft around you

It took some time to get him to smile, it happened when you gave him multiple kisses on his face

He was slightly functioning, then blinked away his non functioning self

Before he knew it, he was smiling

You quickly took a picture

Surprisingly, for the rest of the day he was smiling more, not in front of the toons, but just in front of you

He was really clingy too, he hadn’t realized that those kisses were all he needed to be happy and smiling for a day

It’s hard for him to communicate his feelings, you really gotta reel it out of him

He’s very vulnerable in that moment, so try to not make any jokes or else he’ll be mad at you for the rest of the day

One little giggle and he’s out!! Is what he says

Your first kiss was adorable, it was on his birthday!!

Publicly and sneakily!!

He was trying SO HARD to not blush

He started shaking

I don't even care for Shrimpo that much

[bottlehawk]

hs kids' first day on the earth c minecraft survival server

jake: starts digging straight down as soon as he spawns. keeps digging. keeps digging. keeps digging. no one ever sees him again

jane: enters ready to get everyone organized. half the server immediately runs off doing their own thing. stops the remaining crew before they wander off so they can start building a base before it turns to night. gives everyone roles and then has to go afk because she was on her lunch break and is actually playing minecraft on her company computer. comes back hours later and finds the entire server on fire.

karkat: gets a stone hoe and some wheat seeds thrown at him and is told to set up a wheat farm. nods even though he's never played minecraft before and doesn't know how. clicks the ground with the hoe and it seems to do something so he does that for a while. dave comes over and asks him why he's been just plowing the ground in one really long straight line. tells him to fuck off so he does. wishes he hadn't when he realizes he could've asked him for help. figures out that if you click on the ground with the seed it plants it and decides he's actually a minecraft genius and doesn't need anybody's help at all. dusts his hands off proud of the work he's done and then goes to try to find kanaya.

kanaya: is given a stone axe and is told to chop down some wood for the houses. does and gives roxy some stacks and goes to chop down some more wood because she honestly finds it kind of therapeutic. ends up clearing an entire mountain. night comes and mobs start sprouting up and she chops them down too. is surrounded by fields of floating rotten flesh and bones and cursed armor when suddenly she sees flames in the distance near the base. starts marching down there with the grim resolution of an executioner, ready to now start chopping some necks.

terezi: learns how to craft a flint and steel and discovers the magic of fire. laughs maniacally as she starts burning cows she runs into and laughs even more when she discovers they drop cooked meat. wants to find more things to burn. finds a raider's base and the sound of the wood torching up into flames does something to her and she starts setting fire to the entire forest. stumbles across the base. sets fire to one of the buildings. karkat comes over and yells and asks what the fuck she's doing. sets karkat on fire. laughs as she watches him run in circles not knowing how to stop the flames. suddenly gets murked by kanaya who's sneaked up behind her, and continues being hunted down by her as she respawns for the rest of the night.

jade: wanders off and finds a cute little village. decides that she's adopting it now. places some flowers she's picked along the way around to make it look nice and pretty. tames and places some cats around the perimeter and puts some torches nearby to keep away mobs. builds a water fountain in the middle of the town square. waves goodbye to go find some wolves to tame and promises that she'll be back.

dave: builds elaborately detailed dirt penises all over the farm while karkat works and negs him. karkat tells him to fuck off and go do something useful. fucks off accordingly and finds jade's village. raids everything from the chests and all the crops. puts dirt dicks all over the place. kills the cats for string and free exp. kills some sheep and creates beds and pushes some of the villagers inside a shitty little acacia building he made with a sign on it saying "breeding pen". throws some potatoes at them and then blocks up the entrance. turns around and immediately gets blown up by a creeper.

calliope: is the only one given op privileges as she is the only one that everyone can trust to have it. decides she wants to build a big cool glass castle in the sky. has just finished building the base when jade types in chat that whoever destroyed her village is going to pay. types "oh no!!!" in the chat. gets a dm from dave asking her for sanctuary because jade is going to KILL him. remembers that he's made NFTs. sends jade screenshots of the exact incriminating parts in the server log and happily continues building her castle.

rose: has debug screen turned on. immediately crafts several stone axes. runs off to the nearby desert and finds a desert temple and raids it, crafting an iron bucket. fills it with water and goes to a lava pool and builds a nether portal. enters the nether. speed bridges over to a nether fortress and makes a wither skeleton farm and proceeds to grind for ~3-4 hours. collects enough wither skulls. readies her bow and summons the wither and starts using its detonating blasts to mine down for ancient debris.

roxy: tried to convince everybody at the beginning to download 727378282 mods to make the server "more FUN!!". was unsuccessful. gets told to make some houses and beds for the base so she does. looks for other things to do and finds karkat's wheat farm and is flabbergasted. why is it in one long straight line. there isn't even any water. where is the water? tells john to go get her some redstone while she fixes it up so she can automate it.

john: not sure what to do. roxy tells him to start mining for redstone ("its red and shiny lol you wont have to dig that far"). digs straight down into a cave. realizes he forgot to get wood but decides to go on anyway. uses up all his stone pickaxes mining copper because he doesn't know what it is and it looks cool. hits a slime and it divides into more slimes and he freaks out and runs away with two hearts. keeps running and finds a door in the side of the cave wall. opens it. wanders around in a cool maze and then enters a weird room with some yellow and green chest like boxes. suddenly gets attacked by a little bug making a screechy sound and panics and dies.

dirk: rounds up some animals into pens for the base and then busts out a boat and a fishing pole to try to get them a book of mending. is chilling in the middle of the ocean and then sees that dave gets blown up by a creeper in chat. asks if he's okay and if he needs someone to come over. sees that karkat got killed by terezi. sees that terezi got killed by kanaya. asks what is going on. is now rowing back towards base. jade types that her village has been destroyed. jane has logged on and is asking why the entire base is on fire. is crafting buckets and filling them with water. sees that rose got an achievement for summoning the wither. texts her "Dude did you just summon the Wither???". rose ominously replies "I've got it handled." sees john got killed by a silverfish and roxy asking when the hell john found the stronghold. jake gets a cheating death with a totem of undying achievement. proceeds to have a total aneurysm.

[bobozolol]

New Twisted Wonderland Character just dropped?!?

Jk anyways here's a more proper introduction to my Yuu oc!

Standard Information

Name: Eugene Jonson Birthday: August 13th (Leo) Age: 16 Height: 152cm Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual Homeland: ????? Grade: Freshman Class: Class A (No. 26) Club: Science Club Best Subject: Chemistry Hobbies: Baking/Confectionery, Gardening, Pet Peeves: Being disrespected Favorite Food: Griot, Sweet potatoes Least Favorite Food: Coleslaw Talent: Photography

Brief summary

Ewe comes from a somewhat large family, having four siblings in total (two older and two younger). He's a bit more reckless and outspoken than the lot of them, often getting into physical altercations at school due to his short temper and impulsivity. He is easy to rile up, and proved to be the perfect target for the teasing and snide remarks of his peers. It was because of this behavior that his mother had him pulled from his previous school and transferred to another that's further from their neighborhood.

He struggles with finding his purpose, his only real motivation for doing well in school was to secure a career that would make him enough money to help around the house. He doesn't particularly enjoy school, or the people within it, and it caused him to unintentionally isolate himself. That along with the responsibility of being an older brother and good role model, he had no real time to explore any hobbies he may have enjoyed. He feels stagnant, and would often wish for change, or at least a push in the right direction.

After staying late at his new school, Ewe is suddenly taken to the world of Twisted Wonderland with no real recollection of how he got there or why. What's even weirder is the statues of the fabled "Great Seven" that strikingly resemble the storybook villains he grew up watching back home...

Fun Facts and Bits!

Against his better judgement, Ewe has a surprising knack for other small, creative based hobbies like knitting or crafting.

He gets along rather well with the ghosts around campus.

Very accident prone. Has small bandages on his hands from paper cuts and often trips over his laces no matter how secure he ties them.

Great at cooking. Later in the story he starts selling plates with the encouragement of Trey.

Will challenge anyone to a fight if he's mad enough. Has no self-preservation whatsoever-

Speaks his mind, often coming off as crass or blunt when he does.

Carries the Ghost Camera everywhere he goes.

Relatively close with Malleus, enough to where he doesn't mind when he comes over unprompted.

Dyes his hair. It's actually brown.

Extra Sketches and Art!

Outfit Lineup:

Old Sketches with Grim:

Extras:

I worked quite a bit on him with my friend @daiyuu-jadie so make sure to give her a follow, too!

(I used @/ai-kan1's Template for the first picture!)

[paranormal-potatoes]

Embroidery dragon?? :0

yeah!!! this thing!! I've been working on it for a few years now bc i was a Fool™️ who chose a freaking big panel as my first embroidery project 🥲

(old photos but I'm out right now and i don't have a whole lot more done anyways)

also it glows in the dark which is the coolest part

[dnphobe]

hello, analysis question. what do you think about the fact that in the slime video dan is the one whose blood is spilled first? the only wound he has is on his hand, as opposed to phil's much more severe one. does this mean anything?

okay, this is going to be based more in personal interpretation than something with references and sources because off the top of my head i can't think of situations that mirror this in horror. I will, however, be sourcing from other people's anlysis on here when it's relevant.

The first blood spilled in a piece of media heavily relating to horror or death is most often the inciting incident. However, I don't think that's relevant here. I think the inciting incident of danandphilcrafts is something that happened off screen. As is very well explained in this post by @dapg-otmebytheballs, everything that happens in these videos is a joint and agreed upon act created by a joint belief system. BUT...there's a clear pattern from all the way back in Squareflakes that Phil is the ringleader in what they're doing. He explains the crafts to Dan and the Audience, he tells him and us what to do and chides Dan if he's not doing it right. It's my personal interpretation that Phil was the original believer and the one who brought Dan in.

That makes Dan's blood something else–the blood of the innocent. The spilling of innocent blood is an inciting incident in itself. It's a point of no return. and can be tied back to its importance in rituals. Rituals (at least in media, i don't claim to speak on real practices) often ask for virgin blood. virginity = innocence. This is often interpreted as a sexual virgin, as that is how the world is most often used today, but (from what i've read) it actually refers to someone who's blood has never been used in a ritual before. Phil has already been sacrificed once, in Potato Prints, so perhaps part of the reason Dan's blood was used is because just Phil's was no longer viable to summon Him.

Back to Phil being the leader of the two of them, I believe the reason Dan gets off with a much smaller wound is, perhaps, a matter of responsibility. If Phil got him into this, then it's only right that he take the brunt of the sacrifice. Dan's sacrifice, all along, has been his innocence, not that either of them know that. By spilling innocent blood, and using it in a ritual, that virginity/innocence is lost. and it only continues to be lost even more as the ritual progresses, resulting in the biggest lost of innocence of all, killing another human being.

Dan's blood being spilled is the point of no return. With Phil back alive again after the events of Potato Prints, they could have made a fresh start. But they're devoted to eachother, and to Him. There was no hope for them, but maybe before this moment, if things had been different, there could have been.

So, in summary, my personal interpretation of the significance is this piece by Jenny Holzer

and this quote by John Darnielle:

This is why people cry at the movies: because everybody’s doomed. No one in a movie can help themselves in any way. Their fate has already staked its claim on them from the moment they appear onscreen.

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

me, waking up drenched in sweat, violently sitting up in bed and letting out a gasp: IT'S A METAPHOR FOR BEING A YOUTUBER

idk if someone already thought of this and this is also probably the most obvious reading of it but here i go anyway: i was just walking a dog and listening to potato prints and when phil said "you've come a long way daniel" i was like "huh phil is in the teaching position in all of these just like he was for youtube" like phil just gives editing pro tips the whole time and it all parallels their story as a youtube duo.

and obviously the entertainment industry is rife (not proper usage of that word but it Feels Right so fuck you) with satanic symbolism/imagery/iconography/motifs. being an entertainer is "selling your soul to the devil" etc etc and we know dan hates being a youtuber and does feel that way. you gotta upload twice a day every day in order to be the number one art channel on youtube dot com after all. you gotta make those crafts for satan. bo burnham has a ton of lyrics/songs that i'm thinking about rn like "you used to do comedy when you felt like being funny but now you're contractually obligated so dance you fucking monkeeeey DANCE MONKEY DAAAANCE" and in "repeat stuff" which is a commentary of how mainstream pop love songs and pop stars have to be really superficial and unoriginal because they need to appeal to everyone and at one point he sucks satan off lmao and is like AHFRUEHQFWIIO I AM A VESSEL IDUSHISKA 666 KAJSDFI ILLUMINATI UIGDFSAHIO FREEMASONS. highly recommend looking at the lyrics to that song if you're into that kind of thing.

also the (very rightful) dig at phannies for the "don't cry craft" spamming like "we love all of our crafty audience that spread the message of this channel on all the other videos on the internet! everywhere! everybody enjoyed that!" is how creators who want to keep status have to address their audiences no matter how annoying or harmful they're being. thinking of the ajr line "stay out of politics, stay on the fence / stay out of all of it to keep half your fans" because like,, yeah if a creator ever expresses an opinion that declares their feelings on one side of an issue then they will lose support (smosh is a perfect example of a bunch of people never ever ever expressing an opinion if it could be considered controversial among their audience, like refusing to address the genocide happening right now and just taking their zionist member who the fans are mad at out of some videos to be like "shhhhh nothing to see here we don't know what you're talking about"), ESPECIALLY if that issue is the behaviour of their audience.

obviously the first dapc video was not made with any intended meaning, they just woke up and were like "let's be weird and freak people out" and they did that, and then adding in symbolism and making it all mean something developed with time. but i'm gonna pretend that it has always had consistent meaning because i'm neurodivergent and love overanalysing silly little media.

i am so jhfbvdahfkiufadkhlj right now so if anyone has more theories or things to add lmk and thank you for coming to my ted talk

[jimblejamblewritings]

the fake date plot | part 6.

Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.

Warnings for the Series: oh, this is a slowburn now. Or at least that's the plan.

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: yeah I know I've been gone for a year... I have no words, my bad

Previous Part | (Series Chapter List)

James came down with the rest of the marauders to find you had already fixed a big plate of breakfast for him. He gave you a peck on the cheek as he took off his quidditch jumper before sitting down. 

“Thanks, bug.”  

“Why do you call me that?” you asked, taking a bite of your English muffin. 

“Do you not like it? I can call you something else.” 

“No, I like it. I was just wondering why.” 

James shrugged. “Never thought about it… You’re cute and little, some bugs are cute and little. Yep, makes sense.” 

“I’m not little.” 

“You’re littler than me. It counts.” 

“You’re freakishly tall.” 

“Remus is freakishly tall.” 

“So are you.” You popped a fried potato chunk in your mouth. 

“Just accept it, bug.” 

You went back to your breakfast, deciding his answer and little argument was satisfactory enough for you. James nudged you with his shoulder, beginning a mini battle between the two of you until he finally conceded. It was still a learning process for the two of you, trying to figure out how to play up your fake dating. Your friends were definitely suspicious and while Lily seemed to move a bit closer, Xeno didn’t even glance your way. 

You were worried that maybe you and James were switching places in regards to the objects of your affection. You felt something squeeze your thigh ever so slightly and looked over to see James was seemingly in conversation with Peter. He must’ve caught you staring too long at the Ravenclaw table and a certain someone. 

Shaking your head, you went back to eating. That’s right. You were with James and you two needed to be sickeningly in love. Besides, Lily was coming around so maybe Xeno was just distracted right now. You opened up your journal to jot down a few notes. A looming presence hung over your right shoulder. 

“Yes, Jamie?” you asked without looking up. 

“I’m just looking at your calendar.” He pointed to a blank Wednesday. “Quill in a study date, right when classes end.” 

“Study? James Potter, when have you ever studied anything that wasn’t Charms and Defense?” 

“Well, do you really need to study wand lore or broom craft? And does memorizing a whole script count as studying?” 

“It does when you’re in a drama club. And if I can’t become an actress then I need to feed myself so I’m learning to make quidditch equipment. You idiots break at least two brooms every week each, not to mention the other stuff. I’ll never have to worry about money.” 

“You’re learning about quidditch?” 

You finally looked up, recognizing the shift in James’ tone from when you two were acting for your friends versus being genuine. Giving your fake boyfriend a smile, you stole some food off his plate. 

“It’s not because you like it. It’s because you, especially, are rich and will buy my brooms and convince all your teammates to buy my brooms.” 

He laughed so loud it made students at the other houses’ tables, including Xeno, look over. James squished your cheeks and gave you a peck. 

“I should have known you were only with me for my money. Well, I hate to inform you, love, I’ve just squandered the family fortune on flying carpets.” 

You rolled your eyes. “How do you have a cute comeback for everything?” 

“You think it’s cute?” 

You stood up from the table. “You are the cutest, Jamie. The most adorable scrumdiddlyumptious squishy-wishy super-duper boyfriend in the whole world.” 

“I sense I’m being teased.” 

“I would never tease you, Jamie bo-baimey taimey waimey rai—” 

“Ha ha, very funny. Now you deserve the punishment jumper.” 

“Punishment jumper? What am I, five years old?” Your words were muffled by a red jumper covering your face before your head popped out the other side. You looked down. “You just wanted me to wear your jumper.” 

James blushed and you wanted to laugh. Natural blush wasn’t easy with fake dating but the two of you figured out a relatively uncomfortable trick if the two of you weren’t on the same page. You were allowed to picture Xeno whenever you wanted and James was allowed to picture Lily. He was totally imagining her in his jumper— it probably helped that you and Lily were the same height and body type so the jumper fit exactly like it would on her. 

Your fake boyfriend scratched the back of his head. “Some of the team was talking about how they like seeing their partner in their jumpers and I wanted to know what that was like.” 

“And?” 

“Don’t know yet, it just looks like I dropped it on you.” 

“That’s cause you did drop it on me. Wait, let me fix it.” 

You pulled out the collar and untucked your shirt so the tails were sticking out. The sweater almost covered your skirt entirely since it was already oversized on James that you weren’t sure if you’d get a violation or not but you didn’t try to adjust it. You gave a little twirl. 

“Tada.” 

“You look great.”    

Leaning over James, who covered your skirt with his hands to make sure nothing showed, you collected your stuff. “I’ll see you later, okay? Marls, are you coming with me to Herbology or still eating?” 

Marlene tried to recover from getting caught staring, mouth open, at you and James. She shook her head no and you made your way out of the Great Hall to head to Herbology. James left only five minutes after you in order to give your friends space to gossip in peace. 

The two of you were counting on Sirius and Mary to get louder by the minute until it garnered everyone’s attention. You were sure it worked when Alice came into the greenhouse practically squealing at you. You and James were the hottest topic in school. All you could do was roll your eyes and keep taking notes as Alice started planning your entire future together. You turned to look at your friend. James wouldn’t hate you for telling one person. You both had planned to tell your closest friends when the time was right and you couldn’t take keeping a secret anymore. 

“Hey, Alice. Me and Jam—” 

The door to the greenhouse swung open but it was Professor Sprout that came in. It was James standing in the threshold. 

“Your birthday is this weekend,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger. 

“Yes, James.” 

“Bug, you didn’t say what you wanted for your birthday.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“What?” His eyebrows crinkled together. “You don’t want anything?” 

“It’s not that big a deal.” 

“Birthdays are a completely big deal.” 

“Well… I just don’t want anybody spending too much on me this year. My parents and I are saving up for university… if there is a university.” 

It was an unspoken thing that no student might make it to university when the war was ramping up. If Voldemort and the Death Eaters got bigger, a draft was likely to happen. And unlike muggles, men and women were drafted in the wizarding world since all the fighting was done with magic and didn’t require any strength outside of mental. James shook his head. 

“That’s an even better reason to give you something. It won’t be large, I promise.” 

“Small things can still be very expensive.” 

“Honestly, I’ve never looked at a price tag in my life.” 

You sighed. “You and Sirius live totally different lives from the rest of us, I wish I had rich parents… Okay, I concede. If it isn’t big then it can be whatever you want.” 

“Good. I have to go now before Slughorn loses his mind that I’m not there or worse pairs me up with Snape as a punishment.”   

(part 7...)

THIS TAGLIST:

@starsval @helloitsmeeeeeee @callsigndiamond @isabela30 @rachelccollier @ghostkingblake @b3t0xic @tendous-pretty-hair @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @superduckmilkshake @sendnuwudes @prongsprincessworld @slightlynotslightlyobsessing @wildernessflora @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @mommymilkerfanclub @amandachrystinallc @lupinsbookshelf @harrysgoldenwatermelon @loving-and-dreaming @that-simp-sin @bubybubsters @peachesgaeass @jellyfishlioncrab @cenkisabibl

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE