Ohhhh I Love This! Its So Intense And Im Excited To Read The Whole Thing

Ohhhh I love this! It’s so intense and I’m excited to read the whole thing 💙💙

Thank you for the tag Ravena <3 @ravena-wrote

Last Line Challenge

(Basically its where you reblog with the last line of a story or poetry you're currently writing)

Okay please, this is dark though. It's from a fic I'm writing-

God okay, here goes-

"Boys only want love if it's torture," she sung, her voice coming out in whispers, breaths hitting his bare restrained thighs; a steel knife dropped it's reflection on his thigh and as it dripped blood, "Don't, say I didn't, say I didn't-" the knife pierced the skin and the person whimpered through a ball gag, "-warn you," she fixed him with glare.

I'm tagging @emikadreams and @myopicmeerkat and whoever who writes and finds this.

So flattered to be included in this list!! It means so much to me when people appreciate my blog 💚💜

Have you ever met someone on the internet that you liked so much that you sometimes sit there and think “Oh man there are people who are lucky enough to see this person IN THE FLESH ON A REGULAR BASIS and I wonder if they realize how LUCKY they are”

I love this piece so much! The writing style is so unique and allows such depth of perspective :)

fight just a little to bring back the fire in my eyes

CW: vague references to suicidal thoughts, depression/mental illness. Based on "She Used To Be Mine" from the musical Waitress.

I gave out pieces of myself like candy, after the war. I did before it, too, and during, if I'm honest with myself. But it got worse, somehow, even after I proved to be the hero they demanded, the savior I needed to be.

But it wasn't enough. People want to be saved from more than dangers outside their own control. They want to be saved from the dirty work of confronting their own prejudice, of the struggle of reckoning with trauma from battle. And just because my entire life has put me through a crucible of one soul-wrenching struggle after another doesn't mean I want or need to do that for anyone else anymore.

I look in the mirror and see a twenty-three-year-old man, and while I am hardened and calloused and scarred and used, I am in so many ways still eleven years old and reckoning with the fact that there are other "freaks" and "degenerates" like me in the world. I don't know why I feel like I still need to earn my place here, to be worthy of this home away from the Dursleys. Maybe if I'm useful enough strong enough powerful enough willing enough enough enough enough—they won't send me back.

I still can't believe you are now on the very short list of people I've met to tell me that I don't have to be anything else; with a full household of their own, the Weasleys did more than enough to nurture and love me, but I let myself slip through the cracks, to not be needy, to eat and smile, and to accept and return their love whenever it was given.

But despite Molly and Arthur's best efforts, I didn't have parents to tell me that I was special no matter what. So I guess I'm glad one of us, at least, had one parent alive and willing to teach us that we reach the minimum requirement for love just by breathing.

You're not my father. You're not my mind healer. You're my boyfriend, and I'm sorry if there are times that I make you feel like your job is bigger than that. I know, you'd tell me that I'm not a burden, and I'm starting to realize that, but Draco I don't expect you to carry my burdens for me. I will go to you with my problems, as I hope you still do with me, but I don't need you to do more than love me, as you do.

You're enough, too.

Enough to love me in a way that still takes my breath away, and enough to receive it in return. Enough to be one of the people in my life who make it all worth it, to be worth fighting for. Worth saving, and saving myself for.

I save myself for, well, me. But also for you. And Ron and Hermione, and the Weasleys, and Teddy and Andromeda, for my parents. I save myself every day, and I think that, alone, is all the heroism I need.

It's enough, for me.

Yesss that’s such a cool concept! I love using songs as my inspiration

Thank you for the tag Ravena <3 @ravena-wrote

Last Line Challenge

(Basically its where you reblog with the last line of a story or poetry you're currently writing)

Okay please, this is dark though. It's from a fic I'm writing-

God okay, here goes-

"Boys only want love if it's torture," she sung, her voice coming out in whispers, breaths hitting his bare restrained thighs; a steel knife dropped it's reflection on his thigh and as it dripped blood, "Don't, say I didn't, say I didn't-" the knife pierced the skin and the person whimpered through a ball gag, "-warn you," she fixed him with glare.

I'm tagging @emikadreams and @myopicmeerkat and whoever who writes and finds this.

Watching Draco in the lab feels like time travel. It takes him straight back to eighth year, “Remember how it used to be?” He asks softly, quickly, before he can convince himself not too.

Draco stops mixing the potion and holds himself very still, his body tightly coiled. When he turns he’s staring at Harry with a breathless focus.

So Draco remembers as well.

Remembers the way they’d danced around each other in potions class as if they were afraid to touch, afraid to speak to each other. Remembers Harry sneaking down to the potions lab to meet him late at night, the excuse of their assignment always at the tip of his tongue. Always sneaking, always careful, Draco’s pale hands covering Harry’s mouth to muffle his sighs as he pressed him back against the countertops and let him unravel.

Harry remembers all of it. Even now, sometimes he finds his mind back there in the potions lab, at Hogwarts, thinking about what it had been like for someone to touch him like he meant something, like he was made of glass. He can’t quite count the number of times he’s come with Draco’s name on his tongue.

Excerpt from my new fic Inexplicable Things