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isalisewrites · 1 day

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A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part One

Welcome to my new series, where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say 'poor writer,' I'm talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the plots of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Disclaimer for all readers: I'm going to sound very confident in my posts. I'm going to be working under the assumption that I'm a better writer than JKR. Because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You're just witnessing two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn't just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

After years of being beaten down by others, I will no longer tolerate that.

I will be using my writing to compare with hers to make some of my points. Some of what I say in these posts could be considered stylistic choices. However, in my humble opinion, most of this is a difference of skill, which can be learned. Yes, everything I'm going to teach and cover in this series can be learned. There's no 'talent' here. You can learn how to become a better writer right here and now. You only have to understand the craft of writing and sentence structure to better improve your prose and scenes.

I don't have fame and money.

I don't need them to teach you how to write better than JKR.

You're free to disagree with my stances about this and about everything I cover, of course. But if you're a writer, you might gain some insight from this post and I sincerely hope you are enriched by my efforts in this. I spent quite a few hours on this post. Helping others become a better writer than JKR is one of the greatest contributions I can give to society.

Thus, take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I have stated before: JKR's writing is bloated in the wrong places, underwritten in others, and the prose is poor. These problems show up in all of her HP books.

Buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let's begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we're going to dissect a page from HP4.

There's so much wrong with this page and the three pages of this scene overall. So much to go over. Bullet points I'll cover from this page:

Disconnected Dialogue Lines

The Great Sin of Adverbs

Too much fucking dialogue!

Wrong focus altogether in this scene

Out of POV writing

First point. This is a huge ongoing issue I see in all of the HP books. There are a lot of disconnected dialogue lines, which become confusing over time. This could be an issue of the publisher, but it's still a problem. In the middle of this page, we have:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Wait, wait, wait. Who said this? Listen, I know. I know it's Sirius. However, this is an improper placement on the page and can become confusing because Harry also goes by he/him pronouns and he's also in this scene. While the dialogue here suggests Sirius is talking, it could easily be misinterpreted if there were other characters or if he said something that Harry could've just as easily said.

To make this dialogue more clear for the reader, it should go as follows:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Second point. JKR is an adverb sinner, a criminal. Jail. "Do not pass go; do not collect $200." Arrest her for these blatant crimes, please, for the love of god.

Look, I love adverbs. They're great. Don't fucking listen to anyone who outright demonizes them (including your huffy, uppity literature professors). Adverbs are the seasonings of writing. You season your food; you also need to season your writing when the case asks for it.

However...

Adverbs should always be used sparingly when connected to dialogue tags. The setting in this scene is: Harry is in the Gryffindor Common Room at night crouched in front of the fireplace where Sirius is in the fire in a floo call. I read through the whole scene, though I've only shown one page here.

Harry says a line of dialogue 'slowly' three times and Sirius says a line of dialogue 'slowly' two times.

The same adverb 'slowly' is used FIVE FUCKING TIMES IN THREE PAGES.

I want to scream, not gonna lie here. Set this adverb on fire!

What does this adverb do for us in this conversation? What is so important that we have to be told that five lines of dialogue were said slowly? What do they contribute? Spoiler alert: nothing. What are their facial expressions? Harry is 14. He's exhausted since it's well after 1am or so and he's burdened with the new knowledge of dragons for the first task. He's kneeling in front of a very hot fireplace. There's fire fumes and smoke, potentially. Is he fidgeting? Is he yawning? Rubbing his eyes? Bouncing a leg? Is he picking at the carpet or rug?

Harry is a tired, burdened child.

Show me this!

Now I'm not saying that you can't use adverbs in your dialogue tags. There's a huge difference between "he said softly" and "he whispered." It's about balancing the moment when an adverb says just enough versus an adverb replacing well needed scene enrichment. Let's compare this with a section from my HP time travel fanfiction, Terrible, But Great, Chapter Thirty.

Dumbledore nodded at Monty, pocketing his wand. “Mr. Potter.” “Lo, Professor,” said Monty, pout gone, but still a watchful light in his gaze. “Is there a problem?” asked Dumbledore in a mild tone. Ice slipped in between Tom’s ribs, piercing his flesh. Monty tilted his head. “No, sir.” Oh, but Tom knew better. He could see through that innocent facade. The man could’ve been a Slytherin for how much he was cataloguing every little detail, from Tom’s appearance, to the content of the selected books, and to the supplies of ink, quill, and parchment scattered on the surface of the table. Tom masked the raw, whirling feelings in his chest with a well practiced blank, emotionless expression. He willed himself to hide. “Nothing at all, sir,” said Tom lightly. “Young Mr. Potter was regaling me about his friendship with Miss Malfoy.” Monty glanced at Tom, brows furrowing. Those blue eyes were piercing, filled with suspicion. “Was he now?” Dumbledore said; though his tone was still without direct accusation, Tom could hear the hint of it. “Then, may I ask, why a silencing charm was necessary for such a benign conversation?” Tom wet his lips. His throat was dry. “I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library.” “I am awfully loud,” said Monty with a sage nod. “Ah. A noble intent. However, it is not an appropriate use of magic in the library,” said Dumbledore, his gaze firm as it bore down on Tom. “Ten points from Slytherin. I think it’d be wise to take your studies to your common room, Mr. Riddle.” “Yes, sir,” whispered Tom.

I only used "said Tom lightly" once in this section to show Tom attempting to be unaffected by Dumbledore's interference. I did not dialogue dump information in giant chunks. I did utilized actions tags versus adverbs, like Monty tilting his head or Tom licking his lips. I suspect that if JKR had written this scene, she'd have used lines like:

"No, sir," said Monty curiously.

"I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library," said Tom nervously.

The adverbs that JKR's uses add nothing to her scenes. They're just thrown into them without a thought. Did she even reread this scene after she wrote it? I cringe in agony if I use an uncommon word more than three or four times in an entire 4,000 to 7,000 word chapter, let alone the same adverb five times in three pages. Good grief.

There are two other adverbs used in this page, hastily and bitterly. Hastily does nothing for the scene and is connected to another issue, but I'll go over that in the end. However, bitterly is one of the adverbs I'd keep. It gives us a glimpse into Harry's feelings here. We need more of this, but we got nothing.

Thus, the overuse of adverbs in JKR's dialogue detracts and steals so much from the scene.

Third point: there's too much dialogue and no description whatsoever. Again, the adverbs are a pathetic attempt to give us something, but they're thrown in there without a damn forethought. We're missing the crackle of the fire and the smell of it. We're missing Sirius' facial expressions. We're missing Harry moving around on the floor, fidgeting, yawning, rubbing his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, bouncing his legs, picking at the rug, something, anything, etc.

The dialogue is bloated with a terribly boring conversation. It's just endless dialogue with nothing else. No, it's awful. Welcome to the fourth bullet point. This scene focuses on the entirely wrong point. This scene is 100% a plot device and it's terribly done as well. It's three pages about Karkaroff being a Death Eater--oh no he might be trying to kill you, Harry, aaaaaa--and something about Bertha Jorkins being near Voldemort's last location. Meh. Who cares. Somebody has been trying to kill Harry in every book thus far. This isn't a new development, sweetie.

We been done know this, okay? Come on.

This is a stilted, unnatural conversation between Harry and Sirius. It's not realistic. It's not normal. Telling Harry about the Karkaroff's past is boring and does nothing for him. One line, maybe two, for Sirius to say, "Hey, keep an eye out for Karkaroff. He's an old Death Eater." Done. End of Karkaroff information. And cut Bertha Jorkins out altogether. I'm sorry, but why the hell are we talking about a dead woman to a 14 year old kid whose biggest problem at the moment is dealing with a jealous friend, school ostracization, and a giant fire breathing lizard???

These points are important to the plot, but they're not important to Harry.

The plot isn't important. No, it's not.

Harry is the POV character.

Harry is the single most important aspect in every scene and should be treated as such.

The plot should weave around Harry, slowly revealing itself to both Harry and the reader. Harry should not be the weaver of the plot. He should not be used in plot devices.

Do you know what part of the conversation was summarized in the prose between Harry and Sirius in a single paragraph versus the three pages about Karkaroff?

Harry talking about how no one believes him about not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. About the school hating him. About Ron, about his betrayal and his jealousy. About Rita Skeeter. About seeing the dragons as the first task. These are all important to Harry. These all are causing pain to Harry's heart right now. Somebody give this child a hug, please.

We missed out on exploring Harry's feelings here. The author skips the MOST important part of the conversation, what could've been a deeply emotional, either positive or negative, conversation between Harry and Sirius.

Oh, this scene could've been so good. It could've been amazing. There are so many paths that could've been explored here, too.

We could've had a callous Sirius, who doesn't notice Harry's state of being, and just goes on and on about nothing of importance where Harry clams up. Or we've could've had a comforting Sirius, who attempts to give Harry some actual advice about his friendship with Ron. We could've seen Harry opening up in his body language, connecting with this parental figure in his life. We could've heard a story of Sirius' time as a kid at school with Harry's father and the marauders.

We were robbed of an important moment between Harry and Sirius.

Instead, the author puts the focus on the red herring 'foreshadowing' of Karkaroff. What a waste. She's trying to put suspicion on him, rather than Moody/Barty Crouch Jr., the real Death Eater in disguise. Again, who cares. It's not about them. It's about Harry and how his experiences are affecting him. It's about how he reacts to them.

This scene is a waste of time and paper. It's empty of emotion and movement/flow. It's just there for a set up and it's glaringly obvious during a second read of the book.

When I say, "The writing is bloated and underwritten at the same time." this is what I mean. We're focusing on the wrong things here.

Fifth point. JKR breaks the POV character with the following line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but...

Harry is the POV character. Sirius 'seeing Harry about to speak' should NOT be occurring in the prose whatsoever. To fix this with the bare minimum of effort for this poorly written dialogue line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts--" Harry opened his mouth to interject, but Sirius said hastily, "Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but..."

I wouldn't write these lines like this, by the way. I just don't want to rewrite this. It's a poor paragraph overall, but this is an example of returning the POV back to Harry. Sirius isn't 'seeing' anything anymore. Harry is doing an action and Sirius reacts to his action.

Breaking POV is a rule that can be occasionally broken, but should be done so with intent and purpose. I'm pretty confident when I say that JKR probably had no idea that this was a mistake on her part in the prose.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part One in this series. We have dissected a single page and a single scene in JKR's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The page in question is 333 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

More to follow because I have lots of pages to go over. This will definitely be series, ah dear.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

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notfavghost · 1 day

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You taste like sin, in the best way possible. The sweetest, most tempting sin.

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strawberrywinter4 · 3 days

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May 9 | Prompt: Intimidation

Warning: Depictions of violence and drug use.

“You’re just too much sometimes, that’s all I’m saying,” his mother comments as she troubles herself with the dishes.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. He knew it would be a poor idea to come visit. He should have just settled for a call.

“You almost scared John away,” she says, scrubbing a class clean. “Your comments and glares at dinner are not helpful, you know. Sherlock almost had your head.”

“John is anything but frightened by me, Mummy. He made that perfectly clear when we first met.”

“Sherlock told me about that first meeting.” She sighs, turning toward him with a scolding expression. “Mycroft, why did you do that?”

Mycroft wills his cheeks not to flush crimson in embarrassment. “It was merely for precaution.”

“Sherlock is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

Mycroft’s hands clench the kitchen counter. She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the extent of Sherlock’s pain like Mycroft has.

“All I’m saying is that I think you should be more considerate to the people who seem to actually want to be around him,” she says. “And John…well, he’s a very polite man. I think he’s good for Sherlock. Very good.”

Mycroft doesn’t answer her. Realizing she’s not going to get a response out of Mycroft, she leaves the kitchen with a tut under her breath.

Mycroft’s eyes are trained to the sink.

——

The front door opens and shuts loudly, Mycroft wondering if the force of it broke any vases. Ignoring his brother in the lounge, Sherlock runs up the steps, his little feet going as fast as they can. Mycroft hears his bedroom door shut.

Mycroft sighs, getting up and leaving his science project. Heading upstairs, he turns the corner and knocks on Sherlock’s door.

“Go away, Mycroft!”

Mycroft is silent for a moment, then tries for the door handle lightly. Locked, of course. He rests his head on the door.

“If you open the door, I’ll make Ginger Nuts.”

A few seconds pass and the lock clicks, the door creaking open. One of Sherlock’s blue eyes peak through the crack. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied with the reply, the door fully opens. Mycroft holds his grimace successfully, but it isn’t a simple task.

Sherlock’s eye that wasn’t peaking through the door is a mixture of purple and black, a few bruises gracing his jaw. His lip is cracked and blood is oozing down his chin.

Mycroft attempts to keep his voice leveled. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

Returning with the kit, Mycroft is pleased to see Sherlock took his advice for once, sitting on the sheets, eyes focused on his legs as they swing back and forth over the edge.

Without comment, Mycroft sits beside him. “Up,” he instructs, tilting Sherlock’s face to the correct position. He applies alcohol to a cotton and begins dabbing the application to his brother’s lip.

They sit in silence, Sherlock hiding his winces and Mycroft cleaning the blood and bruises.

“When are they coming back?” asks Sherlock.

“I’m not sure. Probably not for another few days.” Mycroft is used to their parents being gone for business trips, but Sherlock is still wrapping his mind around it.

Silence falls again. Then Sherlock speaks up:

“Are you really making Ginger Nuts?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

It takes everything in Mycroft not to crack a smile. “Why is that?”

“You don’t like Ginger Nuts and you only do things that benefit yourself,” he says bluntly.

Mycroft hums. “You really think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

They both share a grin.

Mycroft’s face hardens as he wipes another trail of blood on Sherlock’s cheek. “Did you decide to make another quip?”

Something changes in Sherlock’s expression. Something akin to…embarrassment? Shame? Mycroft’s not sure, but he’s never seen his brother acquire such a look.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock replies.

“Then what happened?” Mycroft demands, though his voice is quiet.

Sherlock shrugs. “I don’t know.”

And it truly seems like he doesn’t know. “Then tell me what could have possible occurred.”

Sherlock looks down, his finger trailing the design of the solar system on his bed sheet. “I thought I made a friend.”

Mycroft blinks. “A friend?”

Sherlock nods. “He said he wanted to be my friend. At break, he offered me to join him at the back of the building to play, and I said yes because…well, I told you about the pond that’s back there.”

Sherlock enjoys observing the frogs that live around there.

“I thought I’d show him the pond,” Sherlock says, this time more quietly. “But then we got there and he pushed me in the mud. His apparent friends came around the corner and…”

“Did that,” Mycroft finishes, nodding to Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock nods in answer.

Mycroft will never understand it. Out of all things, he will never understand this. Yes, Sherlock is odd. He has required rudeness over the past year, but Mycroft fully believes that Sherlock has just been taking after him.

Then there are the admittedly good things about him. Sherlock enjoys rambling about scientific discoveries, he likes to play in ponds and rain, he likes to help Mummy bake, he likes to play Pirates (which is actually quite fun), and he is a swift and independent learner. Mycroft admires these qualities. And though he’s never been good at showing his affection (and possibly never will be), he and Sherlock know how to make their relationship work.

“I will take care of them,” Mycroft says as Sherlock wipes tears from his eyes.

“They’re big,” Sherlock says. “And scary.”

Mycroft snorts. “Bigger than you. Not me.”

Hesitantly, he puts a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. This seems to give a sign to Sherlock that he’s been waiting for, and he hugs Mycroft tightly. Stunned, Mycroft settles for patting his curls awkwardly, but this doesn’t will Sherlock away. Sherlock continues to hug him and cry, and Mycroft wants to make it all go away.

After a while, Sherlock releases him and sniffles stubbornly, wiping more tears. “Can I have Ginger Nuts now?”

Mycroft stands, nodding to signal Sherlock to come along. “You’re assisting me. I know you know how to make these in your sleep.”

——

In a random building, in a random place. That’s usually where he is.

Mycroft hears either miserable sounds or nothing at all. He sees stranger’s eyes rolling to the back of their head while taking sedatives or pills.

The curls are unmistakable. Sherlock is huddled up in a corner, a blue hoodie wrapped around him loosely. Mycroft nudges him. He then turns him and is not startled to see his pale skin, his unhealthily sharpened cheekbones or his dull eyes.

Mycroft sighs.

He helps Sherlock up and practically drags him to the vehicle parked thankfully close outside.

Carefully putting him in the passenger’s seat, Mycroft gets behind the steering wheel.

Mycroft glances at him, and is overcome with what his brother has turned into.

“Brother mine. Why do you hurt yourself so?”

He knows Sherlock doesn’t hear him, doesn’t understand his whispers.

Maybe that’s for the best.

——

“I worry about him…constantly.”

John stares at him. “That’s nice of you,” he murmurs.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you call a difficult relationship.” Mycroft keeps his voice impassive. His heart aches.

John’s phone pings. It’s obviously from Sherlock.

They continue with comments back and forth. Mycroft feigns an impression that he’s only wanting Sherlock’s whereabouts for personal gain. John seems to believe it wholeheartedly.

Mycroft can’t decide if John is worth Sherlock’s time.

Probably not.

Mycroft analyzes him to get a rise out of him.

“Are we done?” John asks, attempting to keep his frustration to a minimum.

Anger issues. Of course.

The rest of the meeting goes not so smoothly. John leaves obviously bothered and Mycroft doesn’t know, he doesn’t know if he can trust this man to even come close to deserving Sherlock’s friendship.

No one does. It’s the truth.

Mycroft has been called overprotective. He’s been called annoying. Unfair. Unethical.

Mostly by Sherlock.

But what are big brothers for?

——

You can read it here on ao3 as well.

I hope you all enjoyed! Love me some Sherlock and Mycroft lore.

Prompt by @calaisreno Thank you!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortinita @kettykika78

(Please let me know if you do or don’t wish to be tagged)

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akwardsilince · 1 day

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Person A: "Why do you keep referring to them by their last name?"

Person B: "I like their last name."

Person B: "I would like to have it."

#writing #writerblr #writeblr #writer on tumblr #writblr #writer things #conversation #dialogue prompt #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers #writers of tumblr #dialogue inspiration

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holeinthehedgerow · 2 days

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Missed Connection

My heart goes out to anyone

That ever wrote a missed connection ad.

They smiled at you from across a train platform.

They were next to you at a red light.

They walked passed you on a street.

You are the real hopeless romantics,

With emphasis on the hopelessness,

But romantics,

Nonetheless.

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election-capital-along · 21 hours

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#dnp #superbat #galaxy #karl heisenberg #writerscommunity #pantyboi #vera bambi #gay memes #curvy girls #bontot #soul eater

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research-smile-only-quality · 2 days

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#paganism #writerscommunity #michael langdon #gay memes #bontot #soul eater #rooney mara #funny pics #madness combat #[gifs]#wednesday addams x reader #luke pasqualino #Channing Tatum #sarah macdonald

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bipolaritysucksbutslaps · 2 days

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oh boohoo, you think your life is hard?? well i'm an ao3 writer

#writers on tumblr #writing #ao3 #writeblr #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 works #ao3 writer #fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #fanfiction community #fanfictions #writerscommunity #writers block #writers #writer

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imastoryteller · 2 days

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In writing, every word must earn its place

Hack away the excess, the verbose, the unnecessary. Trim your prose until it's sharp, lean, and potent. Less isn't merely more; it's power. Each word left standing should carry the weight of ten. Strip away the fluff; let your story breathe. Don't drown your readers in a sea of words; instead, lead them through a concise, impactful narrative. Cut, slash, and slice until only the essential remains. Your story will thank you, standing tall and resolute, a testament to the art of restraint.

#writing tips #writing advice #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #fiction writing #writerscommunity #writing #writing help #writing resources

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autumnsunshine10 · 2 days

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Poetry in my head

Been beheaded at the bloom

Betrothed to a double agent

Doomed to repeat history

Dusty and abandoned

A band on another reunion tour

Box office blown to bits

Tickets strewn around turnstile

Pick one up and turn it in-

To something sort of worthwhile

Nothing short of unexpected

The starter seed is sown

Before retired eyes

A poem has finally grown

#feels good to be back #writing again #smittenbypoetry #abstractcommunity #writerscommunity #twcpoetry #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #writer's block #writer things #autumnsunshine10

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east-cut-scientist-image · 3 days

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#musical #stephanie santiago #2gether the series #dnp #nylon pantyhose #paganism #karl heisenberg #pagan wicca #writerscommunity #unicorns #Alan Rickman #pantyboi #michael langdon #vera bambi

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words-on-pa-per · 2 days

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“Humans aren’t good. They’re polite. They’re trained and polished so that they seem good, but it’s not an inherent thing.”

“Doesn’t that make the good ones all the more impressive?”

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ladythornofrivia · 10 hours

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🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART TWO)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i got sick from the trip. oops. enjoy the new chapter! oh, and the one where the reader is being shoved out of the elevator, that one is a true story, by the way. I was being shoved out of the elevator by this guy I met at the cruise—all because I didn’t give him the attention. not only that i got stood up twice--one on the hangout, the other on my 27th birthday. and he thinks it's weird that i like hotd and said ewan mitchell looks weird. good thing i don't have to see him again.

Somehow, to think you met up with Michael Gavey again in the library, now that Oliver Quick is gone. By gone, Oliver might have gotten bored of Michael Gavey, you assumed.

There was a party last night, and you didn’t attend. Not that you’re too good or above for the party; you just hated the noise at the moment. You wanted a different kind of ambience to set the mood. Needless to say, you earned a lot of cash on that night.

With moonlighting as a camgirl, things have gotten easier. If you haven’t left your parents, things would’ve been worse if they found out.

Despite the cruel years, it became a simple memory.

Sitting beside you, Michael offered another crunchie--delicious as always. It's a good pair with hot cup of joe to pair with the sweet chocolate. Although you learned that Michael hated coffee, he'd rather prefer tea, a tea that tasted bland to you. You needed something strong--Starbucks would've been great, but a coffee from Oxford? You can't pass up to try the flavor of coffee from another country you've set yourself in.

Missing the opportunity would be as stupid--all opportunities have been unlocked, all thanks to you being as a famous camgirl. My, oh my, you are moonlighting as a naughty girl in bed time--no parents constantly sneaking in being nosy as hell. You did lie to them--half-lie--by claiming that you have been acting nuts at night--doing all the prayers and bible study sessions, which is a total fucking lie.

You never liked bible studies or prayers before Sundays. It's a hassling lifestyle to live in--to live so virtuously while shaming everyone's lifestyle who aren't religious.

People with an aspect of a pretentious goody-two-shoes was the last thing you need. Oliver Quick is a goody two-shoes; the boy obsessed with math has caught your eye, plain and simple. A bit eccentric, but sexually frustrated, as you guessed before the moment your eyes met his baby blues.

Three weeks later, the magical aspect of Oxford hasn't begun.

"Crunchie," a voice said, tingling your skin and poked at one side of your waist with a slight tickle.

Beside you, Michael Gavey showed up with a slight grin on his face, oddly satisfied this morning.

Who the hell smiles in the morning?

"Not an early riser, I see," he commented.

His pleasant tone prickled in between your thighs.

"Oh yeah, fine and dandy--needed a cup of coffee," you said, grouchy. "I was studying all night--got the assignment wrong."

"What kind of assignment?"

"It's, um, it's an English essay," you lied, pen twirled between your agitated fingers. "This professor is really getting on my nerves when it comes to the essay. Acting all superior and shit--telling me I keep getting my annotations wrong and that I misinterpreted the meaning of the symbolism and theme in the story. I hate pretentious professors like that. No matter where I go, some things never change. They always have favoritism, it's fucking weird."

Michael chuckled. "Perhaps you have been partying?"

"Partying? Please, I needed peace and quiet for some alone time to concentrate on my studies. If I want to have a good future, I had to have at least a C or B. I fucked up bad."

Seems like the lie went smoothly as always.

"So, have you been at the party last night? Sneaking in since you didn't get your invite?" you asked.

Michael placed his hand over his cheek, nearly covering his lips. "I stayed in my dorm."

"Ah, doing math homework, I assume? Anything math related? Science into the mix, maybe."

Michael stayed quiet.

"I'm not really into math. I thought it's confusing," you commented.

Michael chortled. "Perhaps I could tutor you this afternoon. Usually I don't like teaching the numbing idiots of the subject matter. One guy was staring at the girl’s tits while doing times tables. Times tables! Need them to fuck off and do something valuable for once!”

You stopped what you're doing and glanced at him. And it clicked an idea into your head.

“Am I also the numbing idiot?”

He shook his head. “You might be, if you are. These knuckleheads at the library, all they’ve done useless flirting, not studying.”

“That’s what library is for, Michael. To study. No harm in a little flirting.”

Come to think of it, Michael at the library with you sounds nice.

He smiled a little, though not in a friendly way.

"Sure," you said, eating the half crunchie. "Why not? Teach me, so I could get better grades. Life is already hard enough as it is. So got any crunchy to start the session? It will take a while.”

~~~

For the past an hour or two, Michael tutored you. Although as excruciating painful to hear numbers and equations with letters, you couldn’t help but to stare at the cute nerd. Ah, a cutely frustrated nerd, maybe. His curlish dirty blond hair, thick framed glasses and his smile when he talks about math, these thoughts never spare you freedom. You are trapped, trapped by thirst that needed to be quenched.

With your cherry-red boots and skirt and a rosy pink lace top, you opt to show your cleavage by tucking your mini top downward, crossing your legs, coiled your apetite. With your hair flip, or hair twirls, biting your red lips, you were hoping Michael would give a comment or two, but tutoring was his priority, but since you wanted his attention, asking questions about math and equations would definitely keep him on his seat. His eyes on you.

His cute nerdy glasses. His cheeky and toothy smile.

Masturbating seems to be an option, but what happens if that option is no longer helpful? You wanted an alternative approach.

Maybe masturbating in public would be nice, but you’re smarter than that.

But each time you attempt to flirt, he seemed clueless. But he did at one point had a crush on a news anchor. And so your mind mentally made an account.

Dear Diary,

Michael Gavey didn’t notice me. How the hell am I supposed to get his oblivious attention on me? I hope I don’t die as a lonely virgin. I’m a bad bitch; I just want to fuck him so badly, watching his glasses fog up and lips soak at my aching pussy, whimpering underneath me and my dominance.

Then it clicked you.

However, you knew right away of this information when he liked watching news—the news anchor. Although she has a kid, the green envy seared and punctured your belly.

Maturity is what men and guys want.

Though it didn’t stop you from chasing Michael’s attention. Days gone by when you try a different style. That is until you met this guy, a popular guy, who’s name you not care—who complimented and dubbed you as “the hottest girl in campus.”

An idea conjured; if you practice with a guy, maybe it would be easier to make the first move on Michael. Thus, you went along with his flirting, but at the end of the night, you felt sure you were ready, until he took you out in the hall, and make out with you. But you didn’t care, you didn’t want to kiss the dude, you wanted to kiss Michael.

You felt nothing in his erotic moves.

When he tried to get into your underwear, you shoved his hands away. Thus, the little adventure with the guy, and ended up shoving you out of the elevator.

It was a pathetic night.

Nonetheless, your camgirl starts within an hour or two—took a shower and dressed up as a sexy office worker, with fake smart glasses with your tight office shirt loosened two buttons for your cleavage to show, with pencil skirt and stockings and red bottom heels.

On the cam session, did a little roleplay, and with feral thirst, legs spread apart, ripping your stockings and reveal your wet pussy. At the thought of Michael, his face, his voice, two fingers inserted in your cunt, as your hips formed a gyration, moaning aloud.

Michael…

You nearly screamed his name, but your climax came quicker.

All the comments flooded in, and more cash has stocked into your bank account.

You wondered if chasing Michael was even worth it. Hopefully one of these days, he’ll finally notice you.

~~~

Michael shoved in a few cash onto your new stream. Dressing up as a news anchor or an office lady, he found himself turned on, how your skin was gleaming with arousal, office glasses crooked from humping and gyrating, grinding your hips in fast pace like a feral beast that you hid beneath all the girlish and cherry red clothing, a clothing that outlined your perfect hips and perfect waist.

A horny devil.

He pretended his hand is your hand, your mouth, your throbbing, wet cunt, tightened around his bulging cock. The way he fisted his cock so much he couldn’t stand watching you flirting with that stupid boy.

Michael had a plan and he couldn’t wait to be inside you, but the question is…

When?

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strawberrywinter4 · 12 hours

Text

May 11 | Prompt: Secret

It’s no secret. Well, okay, maybe to most it’s a secret. But to John, it isn’t.

It’s no secret Sherlock likes the name love. Or darling. Or really, any other pet name John gives him when intimate.

John has always been fond of pet names. In previous relationships, he’s used it casually and his girlfriends seemed to be keen on it. Sherlock, however, has a reaction John would have never guessed.

John discovers it when they first get together. Days after their confession, they’re practically inseparable. After a long and tiring case, Sherlock is just about to lay on John’s chest like he always does on afternoons like this when John says, “Actually, love, you mind handing me my book that’s on my chair?”

And Sherlock stops dead in his tracks. Dead. John wonders if he’s okay, if he’s even capable of breathing. He stares at John, his cheeks flushing crimson. Once he regains his mental stability, he nods and goes to the other end of the room to get John’s book. John’s still eyeing him with concern when Sherlock comes back to hand him the hardcover.

“You alright?” John asks.

Sherlock nods curtly. “Yes, fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Do I not look it?”

John huffs a laugh. “No, you look…fine. Just…” John nods his head in a gesture. “Come lay down,” he suggests, not liking Sherlock so far away.

Sherlock seems to calm at the request and he practically pounces atop John, nuzzling his face into the blogger’s neck with a long sigh. John holds a grin as he props the book on Sherlock’s back, pretending to read. But in truth, he’s thinking of Sherlock’s reaction, silently pleased with his new discovery.

He decides to experiment. While Sherlock is sitting on one of the high chairs at the kitchen table, inspecting whatever form of scientific specimen he’s interested in at the moment through his microscope, John comes toward him and soothes a hand down his back. Sherlock doesn’t have an outward reaction, but John can sense the shiver that crawls through him.

“I really am quite busy, John,” Sherlock says, not looking up.

“Mm, sorry, darling. Missed you, is all.”

And that’s when Sherlock freezes. Everything goes still. Usually, Sherlock would respond with a scolding statement to not be so sentimental and that they’d just gone out for lunch at Angelos. But he doesn’t say anything, only peers up and looks John in the eye. John grins, squeezing the back of his neck fondly.

“But I won’t disturb you,” John says, and he catches the look of disappointment in Sherlock’s eyes. “Was gonna go down to Tescos anyway.”

Sherlock nods dumbly.

John pecks a kiss to the limp detective’s lips, then heads off with a winning smile. That’s interesting.

The third time is the final conclusion. Though, it isn’t as fun. Frankly, John has been careful with this use of pet names, just in case he finds a time when Sherlock truly doesn’t like it. But this situation proves the point that any time is a good time.

Sherlock has just had an outburst in front of all members of Lestrade’s group. Anderson ticked him off by saying something idiotic, as always, but it was during the brink of a case. A case that Sherlock can’t wrap his head around and is losing himself quickly to. Sherlock stormed off to the break room, ignoring the stares. Lestrade gave John a nod to follow him and after sending a deadly glare to Anderson, John did.

John finds him pacing, hands on his hips, and muttering to himself. When Sherlock sees John, he waves a hand.

“Go away, I don’t want to talk,” Sherlock sneers.

“You don’t have to,” John says. “I’m just here to check on you.”

“This is stupid,” Sherlock hisses, continuing to pace. “Anderson always knows how to open his mouth and say something that’s equivalent to a meaningless pit. He doesn’t know what he’s blabbering about, and I can–will, I will solve this case.”

“Sherlock–”

“It’s ridiculous how brainless he can be, and he acts like he is capable of making valid points when he only knows how to spit out jabs. He acts like he can solve a case when he’s proved his idiocy numerous times.”

“Sherlock.”

“I will solve this,” Sherlock repeats, voice cracking. “I’ve already planned out the potential coordinates of where the perpetrator may be, and I want to see the look on Anderson’s face when I–”

“Love.” John doesn’t know when he stepped forward to get into Sherlock’s line of touch, but he does and he cups the detective’s face to calm him. Sherlock stops his rant and clicks his mouth shut, staring at John with wide eyes. “Take deep breaths. Follow my breathing, hm?”

Sherlock does, and John sees his chest moving up and down in slower movements.

“Just focus on me,” John whispers, bringing Sherlock close and rubbing his thumbs across his cheekbones. “Don’t waste your time on him when you have me here.” John sighs, running a finger over Sherlock’s bottom lip. Sherlock’s eyes turn glassy. “You are the most brilliant man I know,” he continues. “You’re right. Everything Anderson says is absolute bullshit. So, I don’t want you worrying about whatever he says, do you hear me? You are intelligent and smarter than everyone in this building combined and you will solve this case with a leveled head.”

Sherlock’s jaw juts, and he releases a shaky breath through his nose. “But what if I don’t? What if–”

“None of that,” John interrupts. “Sherlock, you will solve this. And I will help you and make sure you eat and rest, because my god, you’ve been all over the place for the past week and I’ve had enough of it. We’re going home and I’m taking you to bed.” John leans up to kiss him softly, not giving a damn if the break room door is open. This is necessary. When John pulls away, their breaths intertwine. “I don’t like seeing you so overstimulated, darling. And you know I leave you to your work, but this has gone too far. I won’t let it get this far again, I promise.”

“John–”

“No,” John says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

Sherlock seems hesitant, but John can see it in his eyes that he wants it, he wants to be taken care of because, for some bizarre reason, no one has done it properly before. That’s going to stop.

“Alright,” Sherlock whispers.

“Okay,” John agrees. He takes his hand. “Let’s go out the back.”

Once they’re home, John does as he says. He makes sure Sherlock changes into pajamas and he cuddles up to John in bed. Even if John knows he won’t sleep properly (he simply can’t when a case is going on), he at least holds Sherlock tight, allowing him to slip in and out of consciousness.

It’s not a secret any longer that Sherlock likes the names. Not just the names but the caring part, too. He likes this new feeling of adoration that John gives, the odd sensation of feeling relaxed in his lover’s arms as he’s stressing about every little thing in the world. And John is more than happy to provide strong embraces and reassuring kisses and occasional pet names when needed if it means that Sherlock can finally get the full experience of what it’s like to be loved.

Prompt by @calaisreno !!

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Those eyes...yeah, see? They're in love. It's no secret!

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