#you can polish things out as you go but first jot everything down and you can figure things out from there!

[ferahntics]

For the ask game, I kinda think you have a lot of OCs in mind that you never draw, but still use in headcanons!

CALLOUT--

You are right, I have a lot on the brain xD But I don't really do much with them because I worry I'll just leave them to collect dust or they'll be bland and have no real character or story to them. But at the same time I do still wanna get them down, so I'm legit considering on making adoptables if there'd be interest.

I tend to imagine a lot of Kirby OCs during work, cause its very monotone (as in my hands work automatically once you get the grip of things, and your brain can be elsewhere, for me its in Kirbyverse) and I'll just get a random idea hit me which I jot down very roughly and quickly so I don't forget the base idea.

[pixyys]

— risky game.

》 context. chuuya x lawyer! reader (fem) - beast! au

》 warnings. attempted suggestive writing ; possibly ooc chuuya; expletives; purely self-indulgent lol

》 notes. you can read minds besties; also, new layout!

》 blurb. as expected, you manage to land an audience with one of the port mafia's executives―nakahara chuuya. you're willing to go to the depths of hell and back to force information out of his pretty little head.

at least that is the plan.

the headquarters of the port mafia is a place you hate with all the fiber of your being; a place you'd rather die than step into. the hallways are just too dark, the floors are too polished, and the executive—sitting with all his glory in front of you—is too tantalizingly ravishing.

‎

he doesn't heed your otherwise poignant gaze, reclining on his expensive sofa with an equally expensive cigar sitting on his lips.

‎ ‎

"so," his gaze tilts to yours, "to what do i owe the visit of the lovely company?"

‎ ‎

you close your eyes, ignoring the way those azure eyes seem to strip you bare—no. conceal any fear. focus on what the mafia executive has in mind.

‎ ‎

"hm?" he stops puffing the cigar.

‎

"why the silent treatment? do i look scary? he tuts, the mocking smile still plastered on his mouth. "i'd say i look handsome." 

‎

your lips bloom to a plastic smile.

‎

"very funny."

‎

"are you mocking me?"

‎

the sun is setting, its golden light replaced by the twinkle of yokohama's night lights. things are shifting; you've walked straight to the wolves' den, and wolves hunt their prey at night time.

‎

you? you're a sheep. but even a sheep can wear a wolf's clothing.

‎

"no," you force yourself to ignore his rising tone, settling on the chair opposite the mafioso. "you are attractive, i admit."

‎

at the very least, it wasn't a lie.

‎

chuuya raises a brow, then the usual smug smile plastered itself back on his pretty face. you hated that. you hate how he keeps on making that breathy chuckle, how he mockingly eyes you like you're some toy waiting to be played with.

‎ ‎

"hey, what's your name?"

‎

hell. as if he hasn't had his lackeys jot down your name and family.

‎

"you can refer to me as you wish."

‎

"is that so?" his eyes twinkle with arrogant mischief, "how about.. 'miss 'i am madly in love with nakahara chuuya''?

‎

what an ass. it was one compliment.

‎

"sure, if it helps you sleep at night." 

‎

a glint of amusement. he removes his cigar from his mouth, blowing the smoke in one languid breath. a light breeze; potent nicotine caresses your face.

‎

anticipation bubbles in your stomach, but no. stand down. one wrong step, and you'll be wringing your own neck. 

‎

wielding faux confidence, you reach for one of the fresh cigars sitting in his golden box.

‎

"i've never smoked before," the panatela sits snugly on your fingers. "what's so good about this, other than shortening your life, anyway?"

‎

"take a puff, doll," his voice rumbles deep from his chest, muddled by the heavy smoke of his expensive cigar. "i'd be happy to teach you. even if it's your first time."

‎

damn him. 

‎

fate gave you the ability to peek through someone's musings, and it didn't even need that to pick up his indecorous insinuation.

‎

foul. inappropriate. 

‎

"you'd be happy to teach me. even if it's my first time, huh?" you put the unlit cigar back into its case, keeping your attention rapt on those sharp, arrogant azure eyes. "you seem to be very relaxed in my presence, mr. executive."

‎ ‎

"it seems that you're very relaxed in my presence too, miss 'i'm madly in love with nakahara chuuya," he says, voice low.

‎

"you're still on with that, pretty boy?"

‎

"i ain't seeing you denying, sweetheart."

‎

the room is now reduced to dead silence. the tension picks up, but the rush of blood in your ears blocks everything. 

‎

no. no. you are running out of time. the mafia executive won't like silence, not when it's your playground and personal intel landmine.

‎

"what do you want?" he taunts, this time with an edge present in his voice.

‎

"well," you drawl, "wouldn't mr. big bad mafia know?"

‎

"i don't have time to play around, woman." 

‎

'me too, scum.'

‎

"the sentiment is mutual. you're not the only big bad one here."

‎

his lips twist to another smile, cold, unnerving. "is that a threat?" 

‎

"it's a warning," you mimic his confidence.

‎

the air has gotten heavier, condensed, as if gravity itself is avid on suffocating your chest. those sharp azure eyes remain steeled in your form.

‎

no. stall.

‎

"..relax, i'm just kidding." you manage a quip, voice barely shaking.

‎

"are you?" 

‎

"you don't believe me, sweetheart?" 

‎

his gaze drops for a glimpse second, before it returns to your unwavering eyes. his cigar now lay unattended without its fire, disposed and forgotten.

‎

a waste. but not when he's found something far more intriguing than a measly roll of tobacco.

‎

"you are quite an interesting woman"

‎

"glad to know i caught a mafia executive's interest."

‎

"-and very bold," he adds.

‎

"tell me, mr. executive," you raise from your seat, gliding to where the mafia executive reclines, "do you like them bold? or meek? hmm?

‎

it's a risky game. but chuuya doesn't stop you. no. you should have stopped yourself. it's risky. but you find your hands treading over the smooth leather of the luxurious furniture, your attention on the depths of his blue, unfathomable irises, then yourself on the cradles of the criminal's lap.

‎

"I think bold women are quite fun," his lips morph into a smirk, a hand sneaking itself on a loose loop on your waist.

‎

"they make things... interesting."

‎

there's no going out of this, isn't it?

‎

"let's ask you a question," he starts, voice far more sultry and sweet, so arrogant, intoxicating. "who are you?"

‎

"that's a good question. who might i be?"

‎

you seize the measly seconds of silence to peek into his pretty little head. vague sensitive information leaks to your ears, all in fear it might truly leak into you—an unknown party with unknown motives.

‎

but it cuts short. and you now hear yourself on chuuya's mind.

‎

his attention follows the index finger trailing down his chest- yours.

‎

"what will you do," your finger trails downward, bumping the buttons of his waistcoat.

‎

no.

‎

"-if i say i'm the woman of your dreams?"

‎

it wasn't supposed to go like this.

‎

hell, you knew you shouldn't have taken a drink this afternoon. whoever said liquor is liquid courage can die in a ditch because it's working too damn well.

‎

"you... surely make things interesting, alright." the mafioso's voice rumbles like a warning thunder before a violent storm.

‎ ‎

"i'm curious.." he whispers to your neck, lips barely grazing your now warm skin. 

‎

"can you handle it?"

‎

"handle what, i wonder?" you dare a quip.

‎

his voice and tone send chills down your spine- down your stomach, under. you blame the liquor, by the god! you are going to blame the liquor, the smell of nicotine, or whatever nakahara chuuya is doing to you.

‎

"me." he exhales, and you can feel your own breath hitch.

‎

"you are playing a dangerous game, mr. executive."

‎

"we are" he laughs, "and we're playing by my rules."

‎

"alright." one of your hands now grasps onto his shoulder, chest barely pressed against each other's. "what's the rule, mr. executive?"

‎

"it's simple."

‎

you can feel his hold on your waist tightens, caging, controlling.

‎

"don't fall in love with me."

‎

smooth bastard.

‎

"you won't lose the game, won't you, lawyer?"

‎

you move forward, pressing a whisper on his ears. "why don't we try and find out, bastard?

‎

something turns in his eyes, and you can only hope you aren't digging your own grave.

‎

"let's play."

endnotes.

i know, chuuya only smokes when he is stressed. is he ooc? most likely! well, i'll be honest. i have no idea what's happening either. i'll leave the rest to your imagination, and i'll be fading out of existence if you need me👍

[kellyscabin]

Hey I love ur amvs!! I was wondering if you had advice for someone that's interested in making their own? I'm not sure what the best programs are for editing or getting clips. Ty! :)

this is so flattering thank you so much!!!!! I LOVE making amvs…… favourite thing in the world to do so this is gonna be probably longer than you wanted…..

I’ve bounced around just about everything in the last couple years so I can give you a few different ideas!!

For clip sourcing:

initially, I used episodes that I had downloaded as supernatural was airing so the quality was iffy and there were logos on a lot of them… THEN I went the screen recording route (for when I was on my phone, I’ve never tried this on desktop but I know this works well for others!!) but I found that the quality still bugged me AND I ended up with nearly 2000 supernatural clips on my phone…… which was a nightmare to sort through… NOW I use this which is very fabulous and easy to use… you can select which eps to download if you don’t need all of them!! (and no vpn needed)

For editing:

I’ve used a lot of different programmes til I found one that worked well for me so definitely shop around…. youtube tutorials are your friend…. when I started, I was using sony vegas pro…. which worked fine even though my laptop was the first one ever made… but I didn’t want to pay for it and it got blocked on my laptop forever and windows would notttt let me get it back…….. SO, as I mentioned, for a while I was editing on my phone which I would personally nottt recommend for full length amvs… smaller edits would be completely fine!! I used splice which was very basic but it got the job done!! actually. looking through my videos- everything from mr perfectly fine to dean movies was made on my phone which is about 30 videos- so this works!! it’s just much more difficult and harder to polish up…. I personally make amvs much quicker and cleaner on my laptop.. and noticed a big big difference in my own quality since I switched….. NOW I use capcut since it’s free and my laptop can run it without any issues. I’m genuinely very impressed with it as a free software- lots of really good tools and effects, I find it so easy to alter colours and subtitle as well!! which I struggled with on other platforms!! very user friendly too!!! would be very beginner friendly!!

fun stuff :)

PLANNING is my absolute favourite part of making an amv…… normally I hear a song and can very easily picture shot by shot how I would amv it - once I’ve got the song and general theme I’m going for- I normally print out the lyrics and annotate them - jotting down timings, voiceovers, season, arcs and clips.. I can sometimes skip this if it’s just a simple video but if it’s anything complicated I HAVE to write it down. I also find it’s easier to make a video have a ‘point’ if I do this??? idk.. I think it helps but idk if this is something everybody does :)

there’s the spn transcript searcher which is very useful as well if there’s a line you’re looking for but can’t remember where it’s from!!

and of course homeofthenutty which is great for thumbnail stuff!!

editing things:

honestly… I don’t think there’s a wrong way to do this if you’ve got a really fabulous idea….. timings are the trickiest thing to get the hang of- I do dashes on my printed plan to kind of show where I need cuts and if it’s fast cuts I write down how long each clip should be so it looks cleaner. I find that my videos don’t really look finished until they’re subtitled either- so that always helps!! everybody kind of does that differently so definitely play around until you find a style you like!!

I wouldn’t worry too much about colouring when you’re just starting out- sometimes I find that filters can be distracting but I know others who swear by them so that’s just personal preference!! I really just tweak certain clips to make them less saturated or green-looking….

for posting:

I really recommend posting simultaneously on tumblr and youtube!! I have videos with basically no notes on tumblr but did really well on yt and vice versa!! the yt algorithm can be funny- I find that as long as it has a custom thumbnail and a few comments it does alright!! on tumblr- I always link the yt video since the tumblr player doesn’t always work for everybody…. also don’t be afraid to use taglists!!! I’m sure your mutuals would love to be tagged and please definitely tag me in anything you make!!! genuinely owe so much to my mutuals for their support 🫶🫶 and also don’t be afraid to self-reblog!! chronological dashboard means people WILL miss things if they aren’t online!!!

but genuinely the most important thing is to have fun…… I seriously love amvs…. I think they’re the best thing in the world and spend probably at least half an hour minimum a day watching amvs…….. and we need more of them!!!!! so thank you!!! and please please tag me when you make one!!! and feel free to dm me if you need anything at all!!! like all technical aspects aside… an amv made with so much love and to a fabulous song is a gift to the world…… 🫶🫶

[loadednachosao3]

Any tips for someone who wants to get better at creative writing?

hoo boy there are a ton I could give! let's see if I can't think of some that might help!

first, read! read, read, read! read things you like, that engage you and make you feel something, and then read writing advice to figure out how to translate what you felt and what you liked into writing that makes someone else feel just as good (or sad, or angry, or whatever, LOL). Stephen King's book On Writing is a solid place to start -- learn from the people who have made writing their lifeblood! go to the library's 800s section and find all the writing tips books you can get your hands on! I STILL read those 19 years into writing!

don't try to edit while you write (small edits are fine so you don't forget them, but don't overdo it). remember: first draft, worst draft! the important part is getting the backbone of the scene down. once that's there, you can mix and match and scramble it up and change words and delete shit and do all sorts of things! I actually enjoy the editing process, since it makes everything come together. don't think "oh, this is so bad, I have to edit so much, I suck." try to frame it as, "damn, look how much writing I did! this is an awesome base to polish up! it's gonna be so rad once I correct these mistakes!"

on that note: there WILL be mistakes. you'll miss plot holes, forget shit, write stuff that doesn't make sense, whatever. beta readers are great for this, since a fresh set of eyes will be able to catch things you didn't. or do what I do: throw caution to the wind, post it, and if someone catches a mistake, say "oops!" and find a way to fix it, retcon it, or ignore it. either 1: you're writing fanfiction or something similar, so it really doesn't matter that much if you fuck up, or 2: you're aiming to be published, and an editor will help spot and fix those things for you anyway. don't let making mistakes discourage you, we all make them!

if you have tropes/character types/plotlines you like, don't let anyone stop you from writing them again and again. you know how many stories Stephen King writes about a writer from Maine with interpersonal issues who goes through supernatural shit? and look where he is! what you WANT to write will always be better than what you THINK people want to read! readers can sense passion. use that to hook them!

it is 100% okay to use your writing to work through things, on that note. encouraged, as a matter of fact! lots of great writers have underlying themes in most/all of their works. depression. substance abuse. daddy issues. optimism. pessimism. worldviews. whatever! doesn't have to be bad, but if it IS bad, writing is a phenomenal way to channel those feelings! don't let any shitty weirdo ever tell you anything else. projecting your emotions onto fictional characters is a very highly recommended therapeutic technique, so use it! (lbr, even if you don't do it consciously, you WILL do it subconsciously. sorry about that)

mmmmmblock out the haters! that is, don't let people tear you down and make you feel like you shouldn't write anymore! no matter your skill level, if you have something to say, something you want to see play out, make it happen. everyone else can suck a duck

figure out a plotting style that works for you. for some, it's a rigid outline with every conversation accounted for. for others, it's a looser one, some ideas and scribbled notes of general directions with the rest to be filled in as you go. for others still (this is mostly my style), you just start writing and see where it takes you. very chaotic, but very fun! I also like to have vivid daydreams sometimes and then just write them down. whether I do that or learn where the scene is going as my fingers are on the keys depends on the day. no method is better or worse, so do what feels right!

jot down inspiration in a notepad or on your phone or whatever's around as it comes to you. could be as simple as "this exchange I heard caught my attention" or "that gravestone has a badass surname I'd love to use for a character," or as complex as "I want to explore the themes of grief and trauma that that other book did, but with my own twist on it." a word. a color. a feeling. keep a list of everything that makes you want to write, and use it later!

if you really hate your first draft, scrap it! if you hate your second, scrap it! if you hate your third... you can always start fresh!!! don't sit around thinking, "aw beans, I couldn't get it right on the first try, I must not be a real writer." not every idea's gonna be a winner, not every scene is gonna work out! you gotta keep on keeping on, though! don't give up even if you hate it!!!

uhhhh that's all I can think of rn... the rest would be more stylistic/grammatical/nitpicky tips, which I CAN give, but maybe in a different post? let me know if you guys would ever like an insight into how I edit my stories with tips like that in mind, and maybe I'll make a lil guide!

but in general, yeah, those are my big, sweeping tips! hope they helped at least a little!

[drazzilder]

Geurdo Gems

Chapter 2: Frist Day 

This morning has gone a lot better for Zelda. Woke up on time, got ready and left her apartment on time. No need for the private ride to work this time, she makes it on time to the office building. Now a new hirer, she goes through all of the boring HR requirements. Papers signed, contracts gone over, and a brand-new badge with her smiling, yet awkward, face on it.

Urbosa welcomes her assistant to her floor with a gentle hug. “How are you this morning? Haven’t encountered and giant red heads, have we?” 

Zelda looks up and smiles nervously. “Much better today Ms. Naboris. And no, I haven’t seen him today. Thank goodness. I don’t know if I could manage that again.” 

A gentle laugh comes out of the CFO “Understood. Now let’s get you started today. Normally someone else would show you what to do, but I like your attitude and with that Ganon situation, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. You never know if he would show his pretty face around here.” She goes around to the back of secretary desk. Showing her everything from the computer system, paper works that needs managed daily, and even the proper way to start a phone call. “And the last thing you need to know is this.” She presses an unmarked button on the phone. “This will ring my cell directly if you need anything. Emergencies, change of plans, or even arguments between employees which has happened on more than one occasion. The last one ended up with someone getting a black eye and a few ruffled feathers.” She laughs. 

“Thank you, Ms. Naboris.” Zelda says while still trying to write down everything she has been taught. 

Urbosa turns Zelda to face her. “Please, call me Urbosa. I don’t like to be called Ms. Naboris. It feels too formal. Now that you got the ropes. I have meetings and other odds and ends to take care of the for the rest of the day. If you need anything, I will be at my computer so just email me your questions. Got it?”  the young lady just nods her head silently. “Good. Now you have a good first day.” Urbosa smiles as she heads into her officer and gently closes the massive doors. 

The office is quiet for a few hours. This gives Zelda time to go over everything she has learned, take time to figure out the computers and check all of her emails from HR. Her tunnel vision is in full effect so she doesn’t notice the elevator doors slide open, or even the large footsteps heading towards her desk. Zelda’s train of though is broken by a booming voice. “Good morning Mrs. Hyrule” 

The young lady is startled from her work and looks up to see Ganondorf standing above her. His towering presence intimidating by itself, let alone when he speaks. The deep baritone practically echoing in the room even at low volume. She can’t help but stare like a deer in headlights at the man before her. This time, she is a little more prepared and can speak. “Good morning Mr. Dragmire. What can I do for you?” She asks with a slightly shaky voice. 

The red head takes off his glasses and pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He speaks again as he polishes his glasses. “Tell Urbosa that the latest jewelry designs will be ready for viewing in Sidon’s office at 3.” Zelda quickly pulls out a pen and paper to quickly jot down what she just heard. She looks up and sees Ganondorf putting his glasses back on. She doesn’t know why but she can’t help herself and ask. “Is there anything else you need?”

The man looks back down at her. Adjusting his cufflinks, Zelda notices the numerous rings on his hands and even a bracelet on his right wrist. “That will be all.” He states blankly as he turns to head for the elevator. Right as the golden doors open up, Urbosa exits her office. She puts a hand on her hip and smirks at the man leaving. 

Heading towards Zelda’s desk. “You could have entered my office instead of frightening the new girl with your presence.”  Her smirk now changed to anger. 

The man turns and presses the button for his floor. “You always tell me I am interrupt too much, so I’m going through the proper channels.” He states with eyes closed. Then a wide grin grows across his angled face. “Plus, this way is more fun.” The smile doesn’t fade as the doors close. 

[patronsaintofmath]

i will jot it down here so as to not forgot my adventure of today. went to pick up omd at his house in palo alto to go to pincushion. drove up playing cumbias & the drive to pincushion was so scenic i almost pulled over & told him to drive bc i wanted to just enjoy the view. but anyways once we made it to the cattle chute, he showed me a little tunnel where there’s a bunch of graffiti & there we found a dead cow. he said that isn’t the first time he’s seen that & that it’s quite sad the cows go there to die. so he reached out his hand to help me back up & we went through the regular trail. there was a random pair of jeans left at the entrance. there was a lot of incline. thankfully there were some spots where it was flat for like 20 ft so i would stop there & take pictures as an excuse to catch a break but omd told me i handled the incline well. i asked him if he knew any jokes so he tried to think of dad jokes but the only one he knew was smth like “why was the pterodactyl quiet when he went to the bathroom,” & i said smth bc of the P & he’s like yeah the P[ee] is silent. at the top, there were 3 women w a speaker blasting music. i was kinda upset at that. i just wanted peace & quiet at the top. so i hurried up to get to the highest point where they weren’t. omd stopped to talk to them so i was alone for a bit at the top js sitting there. then he came up & we just hung out for maybe 10 minutes but the little bugs kept flying at me so i got up & he took that as his cue to get going too. so we took down a different trail so we could do a loop. i wish i could remember the turns we made but all i remember is a right after the pincushion peak. he was telling me about how i gotta make college friends bc those are the people that will be good to have around 30 years from now. then we talked about the 1800s & videogames & mexican culture. i was skipping & jumping about when we were going downhill, uphill, & on flat land. i was having so much fun hiking! ok then we made it back to the car & dude told me about pizza factory & i was like ok so we went down there. omd said we could split a sandwich & he’d pay for it but in my mind i was like nah i need more than half a sandwich so the only logical thing to do was tell him “nah i got us this time” bc he had paid last time & i secretly had the plan to order myself a whole sandwhich. so then he just paid for his beer & he got a salad which i noticed was cheaper than the sandwhich so i wonder if he got that bc it was cheaper but anyways. then we were outside & that’s when he started talking about religion & politics & eugenics & DNA & yellowjackets & so much other stuff. he also asked if i knew something about DNA (the topic escapes me now) but at the time i did so i said yes & he’s like yeah you went to edison you’re a smart girl LIKE PEOPLE THINK THAT JUST BC I WENT TO EDISON IM SMART NO YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT I SUCK AS A STUDENT but thank you for thinking so highly of me. then on the drive back we listened to doors & he was asking about my music choices & that’s when i showed him that i put his playlist on spotify. the whole ride back he talked about music. then we arrive to his house & invited me in & i step into some sort of office that is not an office actually but a room full of antique stuff. & the living room & entrance were the same way. but he was so excited to show me everything & i noticed that. he showed me some art he made w sticks & branches he found. he polished & glued rocks on top of them. thinking back about it now it reminds me of ben making his stop motion animation film from parks&rec. oh & i met seth & he’s jokingly telling me to buy omd’s stuff bc he has so much stuff & wants it gone & he’s like [omd] likes you he can give you a discount & i was like oh my goodness ive been accepted as a person 😭. & when omd had introduced me to seth he said it like he had already talked about me to seth so PEOPLE ARE PERCEIVING ME NOOO. dude has a huge house. an office, 4 bedrooms, kitchen, living room, laundry room, 2 bathrooms, & a big ass backyard W A POOL & JACUZZI

[nanowrimo]

Preparing Before NaNoWriMo

We only have a few more weeks before NaNoWriMo comes knocking at our doors, asking for our utmost dedication and creativity for the 50,000 word count. NaNo guest Sydney Salter encourages us to prepare and plan accordingly on what we want to do with our novels when we finish. 

I’ve pushed myself to the 50,000-word finish line for six NaNoWriMo novels—My Big Nose And Other Natural Disasters and Swoon At Your Own Risk eventually got published. I polished the other manuscripts into market-ready shape, should the market ever be ready for a YA mummy romcom. I had fun writing those unsold stories and learned a lot. No regrets. I told stories that I wanted to tell. 

It’s that sixth manuscript. I wrote 50,003 words and never opened the manuscript again. It’s still on my computer file with a 2012 date stamp. 

That’s the novel I wrote by the seat of my pants. I dove into the story with a big voice and a vague notion of where it might go. And I struggled. One day I padded my word count with the character’s grocery list. She needed A LOT of stuff at the store! Ugh. The plot, characters, setting—all of it is a big fat mess.

Not that a mess is a bad thing for a NaNo novel. To reach that 50,000 words in 30 days, you can’t go back and fix stuff. That’s one of the best parts of fast writing. You push yourself through some rough patches, making notes about stuff to fix later. 

The problem occurs when you make such a mess that the thought of rewriting everything makes you want to do anything else—like scrub your bathroom, or something. The other sad fact is that 50,000 words usually leaves you in the perilous middle of a full-length novel. After November you have to find the excitement to write thousands and thousands of words to get to that magic phrase: The End. 

My 2012 NaNo experience was so bad that I waited seven years before trying again. I wrote slowly for years. I missed out on creating that fast draft that exists to be revised into something shiny and good. Writing slowly gets the job done, eventually. But slowly.

We’re not here to write slow. We’re here to get a big chunk of a novel written! 

A little preparation can go a long way to making November a fun and productive writing month. Right now I’m thinking about my main character. His sidekick. His enemies. I’m thinking about what he thinks he wants versus what he needs. I'm jotting down ideas for great scenes. I plan to create a loose outline. I know that magic happens during the writing process, so I won’t be rigid about my planned scenes, but if I’m ever feeling lost, I’ll have something to write about. You know, besides groceries. 

I’m not going to do it alone, either. I’ll look to all the great info here at NaNoWriMo and I’ll pick a writing craft book to accompany me through this first draft. So many writing exercises have turned into really great scenes in my stories. 

Every NaNo is different just like every story is different. But I do know that taking some time to prepare can leave you in a better place when you hit that delicious 50,000 word mark. You want to write something that you are excited to finish and revise. Let’s get ready to write some great stories!  

Sydney Salter’s novels include My Big Nose And Other Natural Disasters, Jungle Crossing, and Swoon At Your Own Risk. Sydney lives in Utah with her husband and assorted dogs and cats. Her proudest NaNoWriMo moment: baking six pies AND writing 1,667 words on Thanksgiving Day. You can visit her website and find her on Instagram: @sydney_salter  

Top Photo by Kyle Glenn on Unsplash  

[relaxxattack]

Someone's probably asked you this before but how long did it take you to plan out the plot for knifetrick? What did you do to come up with everything and do you have any tips for other writers who are struggling to put together their own fics?

after checking out my history lol,

it seems i did serious brainstorming and research for about a week before i started writing.

what happened first was that i had in my head the funny idea of ran failing to kill jackie and them getting tax-benefit married (to make ran feel guilty and admit his plot)

and once i realized i wanted to make it into an actual story, i had to change some of it and come up with plot and reasoning.

the first thing i did was ask my followers for song requests, lol. i asked specifically for “songs about futuristic settings or being married to/loving your assassination target”

i listened to a lot of that music to get my brain juices flowing. i had to put together a couple of Reasons for why things happened. i also knew i couldn’t just write the fic on the assassination alone, or else ran would have nothing to distract him and be the overarching plot, lol

the music helped me picture scenes and concepts. i then just jotted down a bunch of stuff i thought would be interesting to happen (possible scenes)

a couple thoughts on this image— for one you can see that i originally wanted to name my fic after a movie. i looked up ones where assassins grow endeared to their targets and fail to kill them. but i realized i didn’t want to name the fic after a movie in case it was controversial or something, so i ended up going for a song instead. ALSO, as you can tell, some of these points got dropped! again, this was just brainstorming for things i wanted to include

the next thing i did was ask for ranjack classpects, lol. for those unfamilliar with classpecting, it’s sort of like personality types for really sad nerds (/lh). aka, hogwarts houses but more complicated.

@dyketubbo wrote some INCREDIBLE classpects for ran and jackie. it was based off what we knew about their personalities (which wasn’t much) but it also helped us infer a lot MORE about their personalities by figuring out where they could go or how they probably think in their minds.

if you don’t know classpects you can probably do this with personality types. or, just, figure out your characters personality some Normal way. i wouldn’t know.

there was a lot more brainstorming i did (where i came up with ms. laramie, scoots, and clementine) and tried to come up with a basic plot of what would happen and what they would do. during this i did some research on a proper three-act story structure so my plot would hit just right.

during all of this, i watched a bunch of spy and futuristic flicks (not too intensely, just had them on in the background to absorb the vibes).

i then made a plot map once i figured i knew what was gonna happen

(the last few chapters are on the other side of the paper, so you don’t get to see them haha)

a lot of this stuff got switched around or dropped completely as i was writing. honestly, the details don’t matter too much— the FLOW of the story is what’s important.

i’m very flexible with my scenes— literally what happens in a chapter is completely up in the air until i FINISH the chapter. sometimes they’re entirely different from my original ideas. it’s not too important to me what exactly happens, as long as it makes sense and i like it and it fits in with the rest.

in my mind, the events themselves are not as impressive as the characters in them. as long as i’m still developing the characters the way i need to throughout the story, and they eventually get to the plot points i need them to, i don’t worry too much about the specifics! as long as they’re fun.

i also didnt write chapter-by-chapter— i mapped the plot first, and then drew little dividing lines where i thought it would be good to end the chapter after. chapters are useful to me as pacing tools, but i didnt want the plot to seem too episodic by Planning it as chapters.

after i wrote the plot map, i did research on deserts, cities, and fantasy politics for DAYS. (i also watched videos on how fantasy militaries should work.) i ended up not using most of that information i came up with, but the parts that do leak through into my current writing do wonders to make the world feel real and alive. each character has a personality and a life, they aren’t just there to be background characters for ran and jackie.

then, i re-read a few books by authors who really inspire me. to get their narration voice fresh in my mind and feel really inspired

eventually we got to where we are now— i write the chapters and i post them!

as i’ve mentioned, i’m very flexible with my plot— so while i’ve foreshadowed certain things since the beginning, some parts of the story have only come perfectly together towards the end. and i have @shrugofgod to thank for that!

my wonderful editor is always willing to chat with me about what scenes and bits work and are most satisfying story-wise. of course lyssie also EDITS my chapters after they’re drafted — to make them more polished, and also ask me questions about things that are going on to clarify them.

many thanks to lyssie shrugofgod for making the story so much better :D

because my chapters have a tendency to get away from me and do whatever they want, if there’s certain plot things i need to hit in a chapter, i’ll outline the chapter before i write it.

also, recently, (after coming up with one too many REALLY COOL scenes and lines in my head while cleaning, but then completely forgetting them later) i’ve implemented a protocol for myself to jot down anything that comes to mind WHEN it happens so i don’t forget.

these are unprofessional and have spelling errors and all that, because i just wrote them really quickly, often while doing the dishes or laundry, lol.

so in conclusion:

um yeah that’s how i write knifetrick! i’ve never done this much work for any other fic though, so don’t feel like YOU have to. i did so much research for knifetrick because it was very out of my wheelhouse.

at most all i think is necessary for a good story is a plot map, and a hell of a lot of inspiration. (i got mine from music, movies, books, and drawing ran and jackie a lot, haha!)

make sure you’re having fun with your plot. writing won’t always be fun, but you should at least like your PLOT. because if you don’t then you won’t be inspired or enjoy it at all!

[thatwritergirlsblog]

How to Write a Synopsis

When querying literary agents or submitting to traditional publishers, you usually need a one-to-five page summary of everything that happens in your book.

I'm gonna be honest and say that this is my least favorite part of the process and I don't at all profess to being good at it. I hate it, but I thought I'd share my process and a few tips to hopefully make the process a little less painful for you.

1. STEP ONE: The List

Go through your book chapter by chapter and jot down the important things that happen in each.

Everything that drives the plot or character development needs to be included. Remember that your synopsis contains all the spoilers. All the plot twists and character deaths. And definitely how the book ends.

You should use your discretion re the amount of detail for each scene. You don't have to set out what happens or what the characters say step for step. You can just say something like: A and B talk about their fears for the future and discover they have more in common than they thought.

Think: what does the reader of the synopsis need to know to understand the rest of the synopsis?

2. STEP TWO: The Synopsis

Now that you have a list of notable events, you can start typing up your synopsis.

I suggest making each chapter a paragraph.

Usually, agents and publishers want single-spaced synopses, but be sure to check their individual guidelines.

When referring to a character for the first time, it's good to put their name in all caps. Then, from the second mention onward, only the first letter should be upper case.

No matter the tense or POV of your novel, your synopsis should be in third person and present tense.

It's important to understand that your synopsis is also a piece of writing on which you can be judged. It's not just a list of events. You need to write well and employ the techniques you used in writing your novel.

Vary your sentence length and structure, use strong words, use connectors and emotive language. Very importantly, allow your voice to come through.

Think of how you tell a children's story. It's basically relaying a simple sequence of events, but you don't just list them monotonously.

See your synopsis as a story in and of itself to some degree.

3. STEP THREE: Edit

Just like with your book, your first draft is not your final draft.

Go through the document at least twice once you're done to check for bad writing, typos, inconsistencies etc.

Polish that synopsis till it shines.

4. STEP FOUR: Feedback

Try to get feedback on your synopsis from someone who has read your book and someone who hasn't.

Ask the person who has read the book whether they think you covered all the important points and whether they think it captures the book well.

Ask the person who hasn't read the book whether they found the synopsis at least somewhat interesting and whether they could follow the plot. Let's be honest, your synopsis isn't going to be your most riveting piece of writing, but it at least needs to be moderately entertaining and coherent.

Edit the synopsis based on their feedback.

5. STEP FIVE: Final Proofread

Do a final check for typos and you're good to go!

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment with your own tips. Follow me for similar content.

[beevean]

Relating to your fear of WIPs post: I think (or rather I HOPE) it's something many writers go through. Just starting something is always the hardest step to any project, but when you have a WIP it's like... always taking that first step again and again, which maybe is where the fear comes from (at least for me).

In terms of dialogue vs narration, I'm the opposite and have no confidence in writing dialogue lol. I've sorta been forcing myself lately to write stories/scenes that focus primarily on dialogue, so maybe you can write little things that focus solely on narration? Maybe just a character on their own, reflecting on something, just a scenario where there is little to no chance for talking. Even if it's not exceptionally amazing, it'll help the task get a little easier.

I'm glad to hear that someone relates 😂 you're right, it does feel like taking the first step all over again. It's also that I know that there is a lot to add and to fix, and I tend to overthink, to do research to be 100% sure I'm getting details right, and then I get tired, and sometimes my brain cannot be bothered to do that and blocks me in advance. tl;dr: i need to relax lol

I'm trying to push myself outside the comfort zone! And one of the fics I managed to finish, Remember, revolves mainly around Shadow having a bad mental breakdown, with not much dialogue lol. That one had the advantage of being made of largely disconnected segments and lacking in environmental descriptions to create the feeling of a nightmare. Yeah, on top of everything else, I write out of order, scenes pop into my head and I jot them down, and then the struggle is connecting them. In at least one case I wrote the ending first, and then I kept adding context onto context until I pretty much wrote the thing in reverse lmao.

Thoughts are still easy to convey for me: it's actual actions and descriptions that stump me. I'm trying to add more metaphors to not make my narration dull, for example. I'm also, as a non-native English speaker, stuck in a weird place where if I write in English, I feel like I lack a polished vocabulary, but if I write in Italian, I still think in English and I can't find proper equivalents for certain concepts - it's frustrating, let me tell you. Sooo I guess I'll have to practice describing a scenario and flex my poetic imagination? And also read more in both languages :P

Anyway, thank you for the advice :) and good luck with writing dialogue, you can do it <3

[notnctu]

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series 

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !!  details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him.  warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k  synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach  taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ ; @lovelycharm05​ ; @watermelonxes​ ; @jaehyunsjasmine​ ; @mjlkau​​ <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking. 

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:  

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.  

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.  

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic. 

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

“Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!”

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

[tlbodine]

Reverse-Outlining Revision Method with Plottr

So in my editing guide, I give a step-by-step method for structural editing that I find really useful, and I wanted to do a visual follow-up to kind of show what that process looks like. I’m using Plottr for this, because I was gifted a copy of the software in exchange for them using my horror-writing beat-sheet as one of the templates, but you could just as easily do this with Scrivener, scrap paper, or any other organizational system you like. 

Whether you’re a fellow pantser who struggles with story structure (hi!) or you’re an outliner who needs to make sure your draft matches up to your vision (or the second draft has a good structure), this will work for you! 

Step One: Write a one-sentence log-line of the story + jot down the major themes 

There’s space for this in Plottr. I’m doing Neverest.

Premise: A woman’s search for her missing husband’s body on Mount Everest sends her into the grip of ancient forces that don’t want her to leave. 

Themes: Putting your name on something doesn't make it yours; colonialism and the urge to conquer and codify; relationships as a form of control and change vs understanding

You’ll also want to write a one-page overview summary of the story, similar to what you’d put in a query letter. Here’s mine: 

One year ago, Sean Miller -- journalist and mountain climbing enthusiast -- reached the summit of Mt. Everest, and was never seen again. Unable to move on without knowing the truth of what happened, his wife Carrie flies to Nepal to meet with Sean’s best friend and former climbing partner, Tom. They assemble a small crew and begin an expedition up the peak in search of Sean’s body and a better understanding of what might have happened in his final days.

Guided by a travel journal left behind from her husband's expedition, Carrie ventures into the frozen, open-air graveyard of the world's tallest peak. But as Sean’s diary and Carrie’s experiences reveal, climbing the mountain is more than a test of endurance; it’s a battle of wills with an ancient and hostile force protecting the mountain — and the dead do not rest easy at the summit.

Doing this helps you to identify the core elements of your story -- the characters, the conflict, and the stakes. You should be able to answer the questions: who is the main character, what do they want, what’s stopping them, what happens if they succeed/fail. 

In this case: 

The main character is Carrie, the wife of a journalist who disappeared while summiting Mt. Everest (character) 

She wants to find his body and get closure about his death/understand how and why he died (what does she want)

But there are supernatural forces at work that led to his death and now have the same in store for her (conflict/stakes) 

Step Two: List out every scene in the book 

Plottr is an outlining software, so it makes this step really easy (and conveniently color-codes things for me at the same time!). There are multiple views this can take, but this one screenshots well so I used this one for the example. 

Basically what you want to do is write down everything that happens, scene by scene. You can color-code them however you want -- in my case, I have three narrative threads, so I made a timeline for each one. Then I just mapped out all the scenes -- across 24 chapters, each dot is a scene, and you can see that some chapters have multiple scenes and also that the primary and secondary plot alternate chapters. 

When you look at it this way, you can tell really clearly that the tertiary plot needs some work -- it’s only there for four scenes in the first third of the story. I either need to cut it completely and incorporate any essential information into the other plots, or I need to expand it. 

In this particular case, I decided to expand because 1.) my word count is low, and I’d like to fill in more story and 2.) a big theme I want to explore in the story is what it’s like to love someone who’s deeply passionate about something you don’t understand -- so this tertiary plot is a great place to explore that and fill in more characterization that should add some depth to the primary and secondary stories. 

I can also see at a glance that I have a variable number of scenes in each chapter. Sometimes that makes sense (the green ones are diary entries, so it’s logical that one chapter = one entry) but sometimes it hints that those chapters could be a little thin and need more content. If I’m looking to add additional conflict, I should do it in those blue chapters that only have one dot as opposed to the ones with multiple dots! 

Step Three: Look at the overall shape and adjust for pacing and genre

Plottr has a bunch of templates pre-loaded into it that make this easy, but you can also just google various different story structures and beat sheets such as Save the Cat or the 3 Act Structure etc. But just look at the overall map of story beats and see how they line up with the outline you’ve made: 

This is just a small snapshot view, but you get the idea -- when you look at the scenes side-by-side with the beat sheet, you can see some things. For example, it sure would make more sense if the flashback scene where Carrie decides to embark on this journey got its own chapter and lined up better with the “putting the players in action” plot point rather than being smooshed into the first chapter with the introduction to the world! The fact that I’ve got it smashed into that first chapter is probably a sign that my opening scenes/chapter itself is a bit thin and needs to be fleshed out a little more. 

Step Four: Figure out what you need to adjust and make the changes accordingly 

So after looking at everything mapped out this way, I’ve got a little list of things I need to do: 

Come up with more scenes for that red plotline

Rearrange some things a little bit to better fit the structure I want

Figure out some more blue scenes to fill in the gaps caused by rearranging things and smooth over the pacing/amp up the conflict/alleviate some areas where critique partners hae expressed confusion

I also moved around the categories in Plottr (you can drag-and-drop storylines and chapters) to make it a bit easier to see everything all at once. Basically you can edit the story’s outline first, to save you the confusion of manually moving around whole paragraphs/chapters in your actual story document. 

Now, I haven’t finished that step yet for this particular project (there’s a lot of brainstorming to do re: filling in those gaps!) BUT I did want to skip ahead to show you the next step (let’s pretend this is a TV cooking show where the finished pie is pulled right out of the oven). 

Step Five: Re-Type everything based on your new scene list

This is a really neat thing about Plottr. If you swap from the “Timeline” view to the “Outline” view, you get these editable text windows where you can type whatever you want, and it’ll keep it organized into chapters and scenes. 

So, just pull up your original in one window, and the Plottr screen (or other outlining/drafting device) in another. Dual monitors are great for this but we make due. Now, retype the original document into the new document, making changes as you go to fit the new outline and also cleaning up language and so forth as you go. For example, this time around I’ll be changing Carrie’s blue timeline scenes to present-tense instead of past, so I’ll rewrite them in present tense in the new window. 

Once all that is said and done, in Plottr you can export the file directly into Scrivener or Word. (If you’re not using Plottr, you’ll have to figure out for your own self how to transfer the final product into a final document -- I trust you can sort through that). From there you’ve got a fresh clean copy of a second draft all ready to go for the final copy-edit/proofread/polish/formatting and then you’re off to the races! 

I hope this was helpful for you! I talk more about editing in my Gumroad guide here: https://tlbodine.gumroad.com/l/jkLpr

If you’d like to receive all of my existing + future guides and support me in making more content like this, consider subscribing to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

And you can pick up a copy of Plottr here: https://plottr.com/

This post isn’t sponsored or anything, but I did get a free copy of the software from the developer and I think it’s pretty neat. It’s still in beta so new features keep getting added, and the team that makes it are very nice and responsive to feedback. 

[thatslikely]

Seeker Pt. 2 - D.M.

Seeker Part 2- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (unspecified house but not Slytherin)

Warnings: None! Just a fluffy sequel :)

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: You can find part 1 here if you haven’t read it already!  Sorry this took so long, I’ve just been trying to make sure its a worthy sequel.  I wanna thank everyone for over 150 notes on Part 1, I never expected such astounding support!  Also keep your eye out for the mini surprise at the end ;)  Also I would really love feedback since this is my first sequel, especially to my first ever fic.

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and Y/L/N is Your Last Name

----

Meet me at our spot tonight at 11.  I’ve missed you.

D.M.

You slid the perfectly-written crisp parchment back into the expensive black envelope it arrived in, to hide it from your nosy dorm-mates.  Draco’s owl perched patiently at the open window of your dorm, barely making a chirp. You handed the well-trained bird a small piece of chocolate, which was previously stowed away in your nightstand, before sitting down at your desk to pen Draco a response.   

The holiday break had been relaxing, especially since you got a long break from Quidditch practices.  You loved Quidditch, you dare say almost as much as Oliver Wood did, but your muscles were perpetually sore, much to your displeasure.

You hadn’t seen the Slytherin Seeker, who you now affectionately call your friend, since the day before break began, and you were desperate to see his handsome smile again.  You missed the glow of his hair in the moonlight, the ambitious and determined look in his eyes before a match, the soft touch of his hands as he held your shoulder or less frequently, your hand.

The line between friend and lover had always been blurred with him; often people accused him of being your boyfriend.  Some days he reluctantly denied it, but some he just gave you a charming wink as he grasped your hand firmly.

It would be idiotic to deny your abundant feelings for him.  At first, it was the subtle ways you’d pick up the little habits about him: how he fiddled with his rings when he was nervous, or how he always polished his broom every afternoon before a game or even the way he swiftly brushed his hand through his platinum blonde hair the moment he saw you walk towards him.

The blush that crept up on his alluring face every time you were near signalled that the feelings were thankfully mutual.  He was painfully obvious, as you were sure you were too, so it was only a matter of time before he’d ask you out on a date to Hogsmeade.   Hopefully, it will even be tonight.

The blonde’s owl had flown away by the time you realized that you had yet to jot him down an answer.  You could always send him an acknowledging wink at dinner since you always purposefully made sure to position yourself for a picture-perfect view of him in all his glory.

Dinner came and went.  The food was delicious per usual, you were constantly glancing at Draco from across the Great Hall, you chatted with your friends about the upcoming Potions test, which Draco would surely insist on helping you study for.  And of course, you sent him a playful wink as promised.

His silver eyes weren’t off you either.  He loved to admire the way your face morphed into a lively laugh or the soft, warm glow that bounced off your face, courtesy of thousands of floating candles overhead.  He loved everything about you, inside and out, and he was ready to show it.

By the time eleven rolled around, you were thoroughly prepared.  You ensured your hair was perfect and your outfit was warm but eye-catching.  You clasped a delicate hand-wrapped forest green box, which’s lid was held on with a beautiful piece of starlight-silver twine.

It was a tradition to get your friends presents upon returning from the snow-speckled break, and Draco would be no exception.  You were certain you would receive no gift in return, but you didn’t care.  Draco, for lack of a closer term, was your friend, so he was no exception to your tradition. 

----

Draco had definitely gone soft on you, and his fellow Slytherins didn’t fail to notice.  Every time he snuck out even a second past curfew to see you at the Owlery, or Astronomy Tower, or anywhere really, they’d crack some sort of joke at both his and yours’ expense.  

He had not only gone soft on you but perhaps the whole school, in a way.  He was less prone to impulsively hexing first years, instead opting for slightly rude remarks.  He was even a tad bit nicer to the Golden Trio. 

He was still smart and sharp as ever though, maybe even paying a little bit more attention in class, in case you needed help studying.  

One thing didn’t change about him though, and that was his attitude regarding Quidditch.  He was fierce and strong as ever, and there was no way he’d back down during a game, even for you.  Even when he wasn’t playing against you, he’d play extra competitively, in an attempt to both intimidate and impress you.

And whenever it was you on the broom and him in the stands, he always cheered for you as loud as his lungs allowed.  You always wondered why his voice was hoarse after you won a match the night before, not thinking that it was his yells that rang the loudest through the pitch.

----

The steps up to the Owlery were icy, just as you were afraid of.  Your knuckle was white from gripping the freezing stone rail up the endless steps.  Finally, though, you reached the top, unsurprised to see that Draco had beaten you up here.  He was always one step ahead, after all. 

“It’s felt like ages since I’ve seen you, Y/N.  How was your holidays?”  His face lightened at the sight of you peeking elegantly through the cracks of moonlight.  You looked as gorgeous as ever.

“It was wonderful!  I got a brand new Quidditch broom, so be prepared to eat my dust, Malfoy,” you said with a smirk.  Your hands rested suspiciously behind your back, carefully concealing Draco’s present. 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Y/L/N.  Remember, I won’t hesitate to push you off your broom, even if it kills you.”  Draco’s words, even the taunting ones, sounded like the most eloquent poetry to your love-struck heart.  

“Right back at you.  I actually practiced my shoving techniques every morning back home.  I bet I could push you off your broom 23 different ways if I really wanted to.”

Draco chuckled at your comment and you let your sarcastic expression fade into a genuine smile.  The blonde slowly inches even closer to you; your face is eventually so close to Draco’s that you can see every detail imprinted on his pale skin.  He accidentally brushes his ring ornamented hand against yours, causing your cheeks to become pink and warm, imitating the effects of sipping some freshly-steeped tea.   

“Well anyway, I have something for you.  For the holidays, you know.”  Draco pulls out a small black box from his matching black trousers with a charming smile.  His rings reflect the pale moonlight magnificently, and you catch yourself staring at the back of his hands.

You slowly accept the box from his hand, your hand half holding his as you take it.  You say quietly, “You didn’t have to get me a gift, Draco.”

 “I didn’t have to.  I wanted to, love.  I care about you, more than you’ll ever know.”  You felt the corners of your eyes prick with tears at his kind words.  Everything he said somehow managed to hit you directly in the heart.  

You carefully opened the inky-black box.  Draco looked down at you anticipatedly, a hopeful grin painting his face.

Laying perfectly inside of the box was a beautiful, ornate, and expensive silver serpent necklace, identical to the rings that he wore daily.  The glimmering eyes of the snake were magnificent, crystalline emeralds, which precisely matched the bold hue of Slytherin’s Quidditch robes.

Your eyes continued to grow misty; your hand that wasn’t admiring every microscopic detail of the necklace was covering your mouth in awe.  Draco’s lips quirked into a cocky smile at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself.  

Without hesitation, you clasped the necklace around your neck.  You couldn’t stop fiddling with it until Draco grabbed your hand, using the connection to pull your chest into his slowly.  He softly muttered, “I like you, more than you’ll ever know” before leaning in for a kiss.

Draco’s lips on yours were like nothing you’ve ever felt.  He felt magnetic.  You would never be able to let go of this moment, the way his hand cupped your cheek gently, the way your hand glided from his chest to his shoulder, pulling him impossibly closer.  You felt whole.  

When you finally pulled away, your electrified lips yearned to touch his’ again.  Instead of kissing him again though, you barely managed to squeak, “I like you, too.”

----

The next Quidditch match came by faster than you expected, and you were scrambling to prepare for your battle against the Slytherins once again.  Draco had been gloating all day about how much he and the team had improved since your previous game.  

“You may have gotten lucky last match, Y/L/N, but this time you’ll like a first-year learning how to fly next to me.  Do you think the gold of the Snitch will compliment my hair?”  Draco swept his hand through his perfectly-styled platinum blonde locks, a cocky expression unsurprisingly on his face.

“You won’t even have to worry about whether it matches your stupidly gorgeous head of hair or not since it’ll be me who gets it in the first place!”  You retorted, rolling your eyes at him instinctively.    

“Oh, really?” he asked flirtatiously, before giving you a small peck.  The sudden kiss caused you to become so flustered, that you couldn’t do anything but shut up; he grinned triumphantly at your reaction.

The game started not long after yet again another boastful interaction with Draco.  You hovered high above the ground on your new, polished broom, ready to beat your Slytherin ‘rival’ once more.

Draco could be seen across the field, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to look intimidating.  While his Quidditch record would ordinarily frighten a Seeker such as yourself, you knew the real Draco, and he didn’t scare you one bit.  

A booming “brooms up!” echoed through the pitch, and immediately you flew directly to the top of the pitch, looking down at the whizzing flashes of green like a cat peering attentively through a fishbowl.  

Draco soon joined you up at the top of the pitch, following your exact movements just as he had done before.  He spat, “Scared, Y/N?” almost identically to the last match.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you said with a knowing smile.  He playfully rolled his eyes at you, and the corners of his mouth raised to an adorable and goofy smile.  

“Remember, I won’t be going easy on you, even if things are different.  Just because I fancy you doesn’t-” he was quickly cut off by the shimmer of gold seen out of the corner of his eye.  His expensive and sleek black broom immediately flew him to the well-manicured grass that lined the ground of the pitch.

By the time you had caught up with the cocky Seeker, he was mere feet from the Snitch.  You quickly flew to his side so you two were parallel, both of your hands, which had been intertwined so many times before, now opposing each other in the battle for the elusive winged sphere.

It seemed the game that you and Draco had played against each other last time, which results you wished so desperately would repeat, was doomed to change.  He clashed his torso into yours harshly, in an attempt to throw you off.  

Instead of toppling off your broom, you tried to give him a taste of his own medicine; you felt your bones shake after jerking your body weight into him, but he looked as if he had only been hit with the force of a leaf languidly fluttering in the wind.

Draco emitted a snarl after you rammed into his side, but he was undaunted in his pursuit of the Snitch.  His pupils were practically glued to the medal-colored blur, which was darting rapidly in any direction it could.

You knew you couldn’t beat Draco this time.  At least, not like how you had been playing so far.  Your arm was too short, your broom too slow, so you used the last of what little energy you had within yourself to pelt all of yourself, including your heart, at him. 

Instead of colliding into your green-glad admirer as you intended, you were only met with the cold and terrifying emptiness of oxygen.  

The ground felt so close, your tongue could almost taste the metallic copper bite of blood.  You could vividly see the way your side would slam into the spiky grass like a ragdoll, your bloodied nostrils filling with the smells of grass and the morning sun. You could envision players draped in uniforms of clashing hues dashing to your pain-ridden body, ready to carry you to Madame Pomfrey. 

But due to Draco Malfoy, that horrifying situation remained trapped only within the confines of your mind.  

You never thought you could love Draco as much as you did right now.  

His arms were outstretched and strong as you landed into them, light as a feather.  The blonde strands of hair that clung to his forehead in sweat and the unwavering confident look in his eyes drew you closer to him unconsciously.  His biceps, which were nicely toned due to his years of Quidditch, set you gently in front of him on his broom.

He wrapped one of his arms securely around your chest, which soothed your increasingly rapid racing heart exponentially.  His other arm was held high above his head, valiantly boasting the Snitch that resided within his glove-covered hands.

The crowd that resided in the green and grey towers of the pitch were erupting with joy.  You were almost too shocked from your near-fall to roll your eyes at his huge display of cockiness and pride, keyword being almost.  You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the ego-boosted beating of his heart, a stark contrast from your own.

The final moments before the two of you drifted to the ground were spent with him cheering in pride, and you taking comfort from his compassionate embrace.  And maybe you were wafting in a bit of his pleasant-smelling cologne, too.

----

Your house’s common room looked dreary and deflated, comparable only to that of a seven-year-old’s birthday party- where nobody bothered to show up.  While everyone was sympathetic for you, you couldn’t help but sense a slight tinge of resentment hidden beneath every soft pat on the back or obligatory smile.  

The Slytherin common room, however, was filled to the brim with its cunning house-members.  Firewhiskey was flowing through the crowd like pouring rain after centuries of drought.  The music was pounding so loud that the intricate chandeliers hanging from the top of the dungeon were shaking violently along with the beat. 

Draco and his posse stood at the corner of the alcohol-drenched room, leaning against the signature green walls, away from the large mob of partiers that had accumulated in the center.  

While the Firewhiskey normally would have clouded the blonde’s head by now, tonight his mind was crystal-clear.  

He couldn’t get Y/N out of his head, and frankly, he didn’t want to.  He should be focused on how utterly heroic he was during the Quidditch match or his huge victory for Slytherin.  But instead, he thought about how you felt under his arm, how your head softly rested on his chest.  It felt like the final puzzle piece had been placed, his love and need for you cemented.

He wouldn’t be able to live without your embrace again, he was sure of that, but maybe he wouldn’t even be able to last five more minutes.

He muttered a quick, “I’ll be back,” to his surrounding house-mates before shoving his green half-full cup of Firewhiskey into one of their hands.  He walked confidently through the mob of intoxicated partiers towards the enchanted stone wall exit.  

His eyes darted around the corridor as he paced towards your common room.  You wouldn’t be found in your common room, however, for the sulking of your house-mates was too much to bear.  

You instead could be found seated at a desk in the library, channeling your pent-up guilt from your performance at the Quidditch match into vigorously studying for a Potions exam on Monday.  

Your beat-up textbook was littered with dog-eared pages and bookmarks scribbled with helpful messages; it lay open on the page for Amortentia.  Your hand gripped your quill tightly, carving notes onto your piece of parchment.  Your eyes were briskly darting from one word to the next.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice that Draco had taken a seat next to you, enraptured in your presence.  His elbow lay pressed on the desk, head in his hand.  Your concentration was broken with a clear of his throat, followed by, “Hey darling, what’re you doing?”

“I’m studying,” you said, before adding meekly, “for Potions.”

��Oh love, you know I could’ve helped you,” he said with a disappointed smile.  His eyebrows furrowed as he flipped through your notes, noticing you were writing about the infamous love potion.  You let the quill in your hand go, letting your hand melt under Draco’s large palm. 

In an attempt to cheer you up, he said, “You know, I have a hunch on what I would smell in Amortentia, want to know what it is?” you nodded, “tea, warm autumn’s breeze, and maybe the faint smell of sweaty Quidditch robes.”

You let out a small laugh, adorning your now-pink face with a genuine smile.  “You know what I would smell?  Expensive cologne, green apples, and maybe a bit of sweetness under a cold exterior.”

“I’m not sweet, but if I was it’d only be for you,” Draco said with a sarcastic grumble.  

You looked up at Draco, who simply let his eyes take in all of you, adoring every single angle of your body.  The loving look in his eyes was enough to make your heart explode; your legs felt like jelly and your heart was beating out of your chest so loudly, you were sure he could hear it.

And soon he could, as his body grew slowly closer and closer to yours.  You pressed your forehead against his’, his molten silver eyes piercing through your own.  

Finally, after moments of staring longingly at each other, you tugged his green and grey pin-striped tie in for a kiss.

----

(Bonus) Epilogue:

The Three Broomsticks was filled to the brim with students from the Wizarding School across the bend.  Tables were littered with half-drank glasses of butterbeer; a few students could be seen snogging in the back booths of the tavern.  

You sat across from Draco Malfoy, your amazing boyfriend, as he rambled endlessly about Potter.  You weren’t listening to a word about the famous Gryffindor, instead, you were watching the way his lips articulated every word that spilled from his mouth.

“Right, darling?” Draco asked expectantly.

You nodded supportively.  Draco, instead of looking satisfied, quizzically asked, “so you think I should poor my butterbeer all over your head?  I’d be happy to.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.  You just look so good when you talk, I got distracted.”

“It’s fine, love.  Well, I’m glad we finally got to go to Hogsmeade together.”

“After three months too!  Why couldn’t you have taken me sooner?” you asked overdramatically, tugging on your bag full of sweets from Honeydukes.  

“I’m sorry, but I seem to recall it’s your fault.  Study, Quidditch, study, Quidditch, study, Quiddit-”

“Okay, okay.  I get it.  I’m just not as naturally smart as you, Mister Potions Master.”  You rolled your eyes as he grinned at his title.

“Do you only flatter me so I do your essays for you?  Because if so, I hate to admit it’s working.”  He tucked a loose piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear tenderly.

“Oh, Draco.  You don’t need to know.”  You fiddled with the silver serpent necklace that hangs around your neck that had been kissed so many times.  

You were head over heels for Draco.  Luckily, you were all his, and you would be forever. 

[e-louise-bates]

Writer asks: 5, 7, 10, 16

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

This is a tricky one, because on a certain level I identify with aspects of all my characters, and on another level I don't identify with them at all. Having said that, I find myself in a lot of sympathy with Maia of Whitney and Davies right now, as she's trying to figure out just what she wants out of life, and getting seriously annoyed with herself for still asking this question at her age and after all the choices she's already made.

Out of all the characters I've written in general, though, not just those I'm writing now, it's definitely Riss of "From the Shadows." She is not me, but she comes the closest to my heart out of all my characters.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Warmth, humor, a tendency to ramble, more dialogue than action, more internal journeys than external. Would others agree? I have no idea!

10. How would you describe your writing process?

An idea or two creeps into my imagination, where I let it/them simmer for a while without interfering. Eventually the ideas get to the place where I can poke at them a bit, and then to the point where they start to form some sort of story. I start writing them down, get about a third of the way in, realize it's all wrong, scrap it, start fresh. If I'm very, very lucky, the second time is the charm, but sometimes it takes three or four attempts before I get a hold of the actual story. At that point, I jot down a brief, sketchy outline, just enough to set the framework of the story so I don't lose it, and then keep writing.

Often at this point the story starts to shift and take life, so the outline has to keep changing to keep up with it, but I rarely have to go back and write the entire thing from the beginning once I've hit this spot. (Having said that, I have had to do just that with "Death by Disguise," and I've had to scrap everything so many times with the sequel to "From the Shadows" that I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever get it written).

After that, it's just a matter of plugging away until it's done, and then editing and polishing it until it's ready for public consumption. But because my first drafts are so convoluted, by the time I get a complete first draft, my second and third drafts are usually pretty close to the finished product. Although, again, not with "Death by Disguise," which has proven challenging, to say the least.

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

Writing a story last fall for the Inklings Challenge was wonderful for me, as it pushed me out of my usual writing genre and style and forced me to try something new, with a focus on world-building and the idea of writing something for sheer pleasure rather than an eye to publication. And I loved it! I've also recently started writing some non-Whitney and Davies or "From the Shadows" stories with a fountain pen in a notebook rather than on the computer, and I've found that has unlocked a lot of creativity for me. Which is excellent, since I've been in a bit of a creative slump since ... oh, 2017 or so?

Thanks for playing along, @isfjmel-phleg!

[passivenovember]

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

--

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going. 

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face. 

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door. 

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

--

It keeps snowing. 

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound. 

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that. 

Wide eyed. Free.

--

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar. 

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle." 

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away." 

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before. 

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

--

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out. 

Just like that. 

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not. 

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985. 

"Billy?" 

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket. 

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge." 

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year. 

It's sweet. 

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck. 

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says. 

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real. 

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.