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masterlist;

writing practice #1

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writing practice #1

unfinished, as of feb 2024 about my unbalanced friendship with someone i treasured

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like a moth to a flaring speck (always curious, always wanting, always hurt),

like Icarus flitting after his freedom within the bounds of the sun and the sea (would he regret if he knew he burned through his freedom to live the rest of his life),

like a blind-sided disciple to the baseless virtues of the divinity (never acknowledging its divine sins because how else can he convince himself he had a purpose outside his identity if the divine was wrong),

like a dog mindlessly returning the ball thrown farther away each time to appease its owner (the game of fetch is only a game when they see how much you like throwing the ball),

like how I would have crawled back to you through broken glass and burning coal to lie on the ground beside your feet (I lost my dignity with you. Care to give it back?).

how pitiful was I to expect your lifted arm be a palm to feed from and soothe my hunger? did you even glance my way when i begged on fisted hands and cracked feet, smiling up at you in adoration and drools of blood? did you laugh at me when I leaned over your shoe with eyes shut because I trusted you not to kick me down like the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, and-

I stood guard over your foot over the years while you moulded my face with calluses and rewarded me with bare slips of attention. Still I stayed, braving my hard face like a tailored armour, holding up a savage grin and a stiff neck to look at you, only ever at you. I recount my victories of when you would return my gaze while lying triumphant beneath the standing shadows of your friends and I thought I knew what heaven was ━ It tasted like aged pennies and my choked up love for you.

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a/n: ig this is my first post to this account!! i just needed to vent but it's also frustrating bc i cant write well enough to the standard that i have for 'beautiful' and impactful writing. i hope with these practices i can improve in the future:')) i doubt people will read this so im not gonna beg for comments just yet the void wont respond :p

this will maybe be continued. i honestly dont even know what this is.

#op #original writing #writing practice

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I saw a post going around (not reblogging it) that said, essentially, that if you aren’t willing to reblog or comment on a fic, you’re not allowed to read it.

I want you to know, right now, that I am ok with you reading my work even if you don’t comment or reblog.

I have anxiety. I know what that’s like, that fear of commenting.

I know what it’s like when you’re so busy that you’re reading fic in bits and pieces, and don’t have the time to leave a comment.

I know what it’s like to be burned out when all you have the energy to do is read, and doing anything more is just not something you have the emotional energy for.

I know there are readers with judgemental family members looking over their shoulders, and a reblog or comment might draw attention.

It’s ok if you’re burned out. It’s ok if you’re anxious. It’s ok if you’re super busy. It’s ok if you don’t know what to say. It’s ok if you’re not in the right place to safely reblog. It’s ok to read quietly.

As a fic writer, do I love reblogs and comments? Absolutely. I love big ones and small ones, from the comments that are long lists of someone’s favorite moments to just a string of heart emojis. I love knowing someone loved my fic enough to reblog. But I also recognize that the world’s a shitty place and there’s a ton of reasons a reader might not reblog or comment on my work. I’ve literally had readers apologize for not being able to leave a long comment or any comment for a while due to life, and that breaks my heart.

Never, ever, ever stop reading my fic just because you can’t comment. Read until your heart gives out. Read until your heart swells. Read until you laugh and cry and clap and get warm fuzzies. I love every last one of you, from the readers who leave epic comments, to the quiet readers who click ‘like’, to the readers following along silently wherever you might be.

I just thought ya’ll needed to know that.

#my view on my work

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Recovery Days

pairing: remus lupin x reader

requested by: anonymous 

summary: you and remus spend a stormy day inside your cosy home after a particularly rough full moon

warnings: mention of injury, mention of blood

a/n: reader has a wolf animagus form :)

word count: 1k

here’s my navigation post!

It didn’t take you long to realise all those years ago that full moons were never easy. 

Some may have been calmer than others. When Remus had a nicer week and wasn’t stressed out with school, things seemed to run more smoothly than they usually did. But, some were worse. When exam season was looming or Remus was particularly anxious about that full moon, his werewolf form seemed to transfer that stress and anxiety into pure fury, only brought out by the brightness of the moon, and entirely directed towards the animagus forms of you and your friends. 

Even outside of Hogwarts, far from the pressure of grades and socialising, stress still found its way to Remus. This week had been awful for him. Remus was thrilled to have gotten a job as a librarian, but it was unbelievable how rude and entitled some customers could be, and how rowdy groups of teenagers felt the need to cause disruption in a public library. 

It was too much for him to handle when he was already feeling under the weather. And, when the moon rose, full and bright and drowning Remus in a spotlight he didn’t want to be in, that stress was channelled into fury. Your wolf form struggled to help without James, Sirius and Peter at your side, and it ended up being a pretty terrible night for both of you. 

“Darling?”

Keep reading

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COTTAGECORE LET’S GOOOOOOO

Strawberry Dress

pairing: ginny weasley x reader

summary: you didn’t think that your girlfriend could look anymore beautiful, but she proves you wrong when she shows up to your picnic in a strawberry dress

a/n: reader is also wearing a dress but it’s still kept gender neutral :)) 

word count: 1.4k

links: masterlist / request guidelines 

You’d woken up without Ginny by your side. Your waist felt bare without her arm slung over it, and the bed felt like it was missing an essential piece without Ginny’s lithe body sunk into it. 

Sunlight streamed through the windows, creating the warmth you craved for upon awakening without your girlfriend. It was welcoming despite how much it stung your tired eyes, but it embraced you like a gentle hug, assuring you that today would be a beautiful day whether Ginny was around or not. 

Reaching a hand to your nightstand to grab your phone, your fingertips brushed against a piece of paper that hadn’t been there the night before. You picked it up, squinting slightly then rubbing your tired eyes so that you could properly read the elegant handwriting that you immediately recognised as Ginny’s. 

Decided to get an early start. I hope you slept well, darling. Meet me at the field behind the house. Wear the dress! I love you - Ginny x

Keep reading

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navigation;

hi!! my name is aj, im 18 and my pronouns are she/her

masterlist

my view on my work

fic recs

#navigation #brrrr um i'll add more later

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fjsjdjdjdoedjdjdj thank you so much!!:)) it means a lot and yeah i’ll be doing two more parts because i got inspo (finally) hehehe:)) congrats again and thank you sm:))

Helplessness

a/n: hi!! first fic posted and it’s for @pad-foots 500 followers writing challenge:) this was long overdue and i am so late🤦🏻‍♀️;; apologies and thanks for being so patient with me:)) congrats on 550 my friend!! very much well deserved;))

Part 2 ;; Part 3

Summary: the two of you have reached breaking point, but you don’t know what draco was hiding to make him snap. pansy takes care of you before confronting draco, but what she assumed and what actually happened was two very different scenarios while narcissa was tired of her son being mistreated, and was ready to confront her husband 

Prompt: “who the hell hurt you?”

Pairing: draco malfoy x reader

Warnings: angst:); post-war;  

Word count: 1.3k

Watching someone you love drift away from you is never easy, particularly when you thought you two had gone through worse. After you sixth year and the war, you really didn’t think that there could be anything that could come between the two of you anymore, especially something as frail and small as miscommunication. Pivotal, but frail. Your sanity was hanging by a thread, and you were barely holding on with your fingertips alone. You tried your best to tug him back to your arms. The thread burned and blemished, yet you still held on because you had naïvely believed that he wasn’t too far gone, and that you could fix everything. But this was where his Malfoy stubbornness came to play. You had offered to talk to him just like you two did when you were still in Hogwarts, but he snapped before you could even finish your sentence,

“We’re not kids anymore, Y/N!” He said, exasperated while you had a desolated look on your face. “Can you stop trying to use your nostalgia and…and your perspective of me when we were naïve children who didn’t have a single clue about…anything, to talk to me, or to get a taste of what once was.” His red-rimmed eyes now clearer than ever, with sparks of orange, reflected from the flames in the fireplace, and his scowl accusatory. 

“I’m not the Draco Malfoy you met when we were children anymore.”

The room was quiet, save for both your heavy breathing. You didn’t even know why you were taking deep breaths. All you could focus on was the sneering and contemptuous expression he was giving you. The lump in your throat was getting more and more overbearing, making it harder and harder for you to breathe properly. Given the clear look of disdain and dare you say, disgust, you downright refused to break in front of him. You stumbled to the door the fastest you could, ignoring the sudden weakness in your knees, and bolted out. 

Knock knock

Pansy was having a night in by herself at her house, unwinding, losing herself in the soft muggle music playing from the record player. Casually swaying a bit and humming along. After the depressing and torturous past few years of her life, she finds joy in little moments like these. She has made herself a priority over others and became more introverted compared to her shining days as the intimidating Slytherin who terrorised and pushed people around for the sake of entertainment and reputation. Going down that rabbit hole of memories wasn’t always pretty, but before she could divulge in it any further, she heard two knocks on her door.

You looked absolutely wrecked, and it didn’t help that it was snowing on your way to Pansy’s house. A lot got stuck in your hair and you face due to your tear tracks. Your lack of body warmth wasn’t helping neither. You were a shivering mess whose hair was flying in all directions. Your makeup was smeared and your eyes so puffy that it was a miracle you could see your path on your way to your best friend’s house.

Pansy didn’t wait a second to usher you inside and let you take a much-needed bath. You didn’t move much, just letting the steaming water turn cold and chilled to the marrow. You pathetically laughed at the irony of this. The familiarity of the coldness stings, and you drowned yourself in tears again. That was how Pansy found you half an hour later–In her bathtub, snivelling and trembling. When you looked up at her, your eyes shone with tragedy and enough sadness to have her heart broken for you.

“Darling, who the hell hurt you?”

That was it. The composure you’ve tried to keep for the longest time–it wore off instantaneously. The dam broke and it was beyond repairable at this point. For months, the cracks in it had started to infest themselves in your sturdy wall, and it had brought company. With all the doubts and anxieties and insecurities all crashing down on you at once, you were inconsolably and irreversibly heartbroken. You couldn’t even answer her question, all you could do was sob like there was no tomorrow.

———-

Draco knew he was screwed, but it didn’t matter now anyways. He was used to this–messing things up. He scoffed derisively; At least this time he wasn’t the cause. In fact, it was his dear father’s irritably conservative opinions which was the spark to all of this, but you didn’t know that. He gulped down another glass of whiskey which burned and provided a little warmth for his body. He sat down on the floor next to the alight fireplace.

Taking the ring box from his trouser pockets, the diamond’s shine reflected the fire’s fiery colours. Another pang of remorse and sadness slammed right into him, and a wild tear escaped his heavily guarded eyes, which were beginning to relent. He had seen your eyes reflect such scorching passion and turbulence when the two of you had been in mischiefs as innocent children. You had always loved going on adventures and the thrill of adrenaline gushing through your veins. The electric sensation had almost been like a drug to you–before the oppressive anxiety sneaked itself into your life–before Voldemort–before the war–that was how your eyes had always gleamed. 

And now, he had to trade it all. Trade all of you for a life he absolutely loathes, and maddeningly, had no choice in the matter. It was already set in stone, and he despised his weakness and helplessness to not be able to do anything about it. He let out a poignant and painful wail of powerlessness and bellowed, and wept. 

Narcissa watched her son with heartache from afar. She didn’t want to intrude on his blubbering, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t do anything about it. She was done watching Draco suffer from the hands of husband, and she was taking matters into her own. With one last unspoken promise of maternal love and protection, she walked away. It was time to have a long overdue chat with her husband

———-

Pansy was fuming. Words couldn’t describe how mad she was at that moment. Her eyes held fire and her strides left trails of inferno in her wake. She had waited until you fell asleep to confront Draco and enact revenge on your behalf. She had half expected the house to be as frigid and bitter as Draco had been, but what she didn’t expect was him curled up next to the fireplace, hugging his knees and burying his head on top of them while his silent sobs wrecked and shook him so much so that not even the warmth of the flames could stop him from trembling.

As quick as a wink, Pansy’s rage speedily softened into benevolence.

“Draco, what the hell happened?”

Still with tears streaming down his face, he sniffled and held up the engagement ring he got for you to her. She was astounded. And utterly mystified.

“The man I called ‘father’ is my father no more.” That was all he could choke out. He was too tired for an arduous explanation; Besides, she’s known him long enough to piece the puzzles together herself.

Pansy was perplexed and livid. But she realised that all she could do at the moment was to care for the two of you, who were too broken to do that yourselves at the moment. She casted one last look at the elegant ring and promptly shut the box and went to business. She took out the whiskey bottles and put Draco to bed, tidied up the place a bit to make it in the very least, presentable. She hastily wrote a note for him in order to get back to you soon after.

She felt helpless. Her two good friends–both dejected and heartsick, and she couldn’t do anything other than to be there for the two of you. She was desperately praying for a miracle, and unbeknownst to her, she was going to get one.

———-

Narcissa didn’t even bother knocking Lucius’ door anymore. Things have gotten way out of hand for her to be civil. The anguishing and broken cries of her son was the fuel to her confidence and resentment, and she swore not to leave until she could fulfill her maternal duty–to protect her son, no matter what it takes.

“Lucius Malfoy.” He turned at the mention of his name. From all their years together, Lucius has never heard such hatred and sternness come from his wife’s lips, nor has he seen the protectiveness for her son get the better of her. To say that he wasn’t intimidated and slightly scared would be a lie. “We need to talk about Draco.”

a/n: hi again! if you enjoyed it please drop and like and maybe a reblog:)) also impulsive decision but im making this a three part series i hate myself ok ty for reading!! have a great day:))