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DRARRY WRITERS NET

@drarrywritersnet / drarrywritersnet.tumblr.com

welcome to the drarrywritersnet. as it suggests in the title, this net is for drarry writers (and readers, of course) here you will find a wide range of drarry writings (and potential writing challenges in the near future)
we track #drarrywritersnet
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studysection
Hey guys! As a writer myself, it’s hard to have a lot of resources for writing in one place. That’s why I decided to create this masterpost, and maybe make more if I find future resources. I hope you like it, and expect to see more masterposts like this in the future!

Generators

Character

Names

Plot

Setting/World-Building

Prompts

Misc

Some Tips

Just a few I found from the writing tips tag!

Vocabulary

Some Advice

Playlists

Websites and Apps

For Writing

  • ZenPen: A minimalist writing website to keep you free of distractions and in the flow.
  • The Most Dangerous Writing App: A website where you have to keep typing or all of your writing will be lost. It helps you keep writing…kind of. You can choose between a time or word count limit!
  • Evernote: An online website where you can take notes and save the product to your laptop and/or smartphone!
  • Writer, the Internet Typewriter: It’s just you and your writing, and you can save your product on the website if you create an account.
  • Wordcounter: A website to help check your word and character count, and shows words you’re using frequently.
  • Monospace: An Android app for writing on the go when you feel the inspiration, but you don’t have your laptop on you!

For Productivity

  • Tide: An app that combines a pomodoro-esque timer with nature sounds and other noises! (Google Play / Apple Store)
  • ClearFocus: An Android app with a pomodoro-type time counter to let you concentrate easier and stay productive.
  • Forest: An app with a time counter to keep you focused and off your phone, and when you complete the time limit, a tree grows in your garden! (Google Play / Apple Store)
  • SelfControl: A Mac downloadable app that blocks you from distracting mail servers, websites, and other things!

Prompt Blogs

Writing Tips Blogs

Reblogging to save a writer

Hey fellow writers! Enjoy!

Thank you

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Anonymous asked:

Writing request! Harry has a panic attack when he and Draco are pushed into a small, dark cupboard/closet/small space.

Ok ok ok so I have a confession: I’ve been attempting over and over to write this exact scenario and I just… never got around to finishing it? Or never had proper motivation? But here it is. Finished. I’m proud of this fic, I sort of consider it my baby, so I hope you enjoy it. :) Thank you so much for requesting, all the love to you

It was fine, really. Harry was over the sleeping-in-the-cupboard thing, and the entire living-with-the-Dursleys thing, really. He’d been out of there for eight years now. He’d been doing great, he’d even put the cupboard in his house to use. Opening the door didn’t make his hands shake anymore, and he’d been so okay. Until now, anyway.

The cupboard was terribly small for one person, let alone for two. Malfoy was behind him, and if he stepped backward, he’d be pressed against Malfoy’s front. Harry rested his palms flat against the wood of the door. No matter how hard he shoved or what spells he cast, it wouldn’t budge.

“Potter. It’s not going to break. We’ll just have to wait,” Malfoy said from behind him.

"No, it has to. Help me.” Harry’s voice came out sounding more panicked than he intended.

"It’s not a big deal. Just sit down.”

“It is a big deal!” Harry said. He kicked the door again. His toes ached but the wood didn’t so much as creak.

Malfoy touched Harry on the shoulder. He whirled around, knocking his back against the wall with enough force that the air was forced out of his lungs. Tears stung his eyes as he fought to breathe again. He could hear Malfoy saying his name but he couldn’t focus on the words he was saying after, he needed to think about breathing and getting out of this fucking cupboard—

“—Potter. Potter. Harry.”

Hearing Malfoy say his given name snapped his mind back into focus. Malfoy was staring at him. He took Harry’s wrists in his hands. His fingers were long and bony, and their pressure on Harry’s wrists combined with Malfoy’s closeness was making the claustrophobia worse.

Malfoy was still speaking. “You need to breathe. You’re hyperventilating.”

Harry wrenched his hands away. He pressed them back against the wall. He felt the tears that flowed freely over his cheeks, but they felt distant, as if they were on somebody else’s body. Malfoy stared at him, not pitying, but concerned.

When Harry didn’t respond, Malfoy spoke again.

"Breathe with me, okay?”

Harry watched the rise and fall of Malfoy’s chest and tried to follow the pace of his breaths. Malfoy’s hands were on his wrists again, and he couldn’t bring himself to shove him away again. He squeezed tighter with each inhale, and then softened his grip with every exhale.

"Malfoy,” Harry said. His voice was weak.

"It’s alright. Just breathe. It’ll be better if you breathe.”

Harry’s breathing began to fall in time with Malfoy’s. He pulled his hands away and wiped furiously at his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. Harry gave up after a few attempts to calm himself and looked down. He wasn’t ready to meet Malfoy’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, wringing his hands in front of his lap. Now that the panic was over, his whole body burned with shame. He had been over this.

"It’s nothing to thank me for.”

Harry let out a small sob. He’d been getting better, and suddenly he wasn’t and it was Malfoy of all people who had seen him fall apart. Malfoy, who was a git, and his Auror partner. The whole Ministry would probably know about it tomorrow. Hell, the Prophet would probably know by tomorrow.

"Please don’t tell anyone.” Harry buried his face in his hands.

"I won’t. I wouldn’t- Merlin, Potter, sit down.”

He sat, and Malfoy did too. When he looked up, Malfoy was staring at him.

"Are you okay?”

Harry nodded.

"Somebody will be here soon. This is in a main hallway.”

He nodded again. Malfoy didn’t speak. He rolled a loose thread from the hem of his robes between his fingers. Harry leaned his head back against the wall. The silence carried on for what felt like hours. Harry tapped his fingers against the floor. He listened to the soft sounds of his and Malfoy’s breaths. Malfoy broke the silence.

“A Mind Healer helps. For panic attacks,” he said.

"Do you…?” Do you have them too? is what he was going to say, but it felt like he was invading Malfoy’s privacy.

Malfoy seemed to know what he meant anyway. “Yes. Frequently. But I see a Healer and take potions that help.”

"I’ll think about it. I don’t like going to Healers to begin with, and… I’m just not ready to talk about this.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud. Admitted that there was a this to talk about.

"It’s your decision, Potter. As long as you’re not breaking down out in the field, it doesn’t really affect me.”

Harry shrugged and traced the gap between stones on the floor. Malfoy fell silent. The panicked feeling gradually stopped its swirling in Harry’s chest and he fell into the tired sort of numbness that always followed anxiety. He closed his eyes.

After what felt like hours, the door creaked open. Harry looked over to see one of the junior Aurors standing in the doorway.

"Auror Potter! Auror Malfoy! What are you two doing in a cupboard?” He wiggled his eyebrows, seemingly suggestive.

Harry stood. He could practically feel Malfoy’s disgusted scowl beside him.

“It was locked from the outside. We were stuck,” Harry said. He ran a hand through his hair and hoped his eyes weren’t too red.

"If you’ll move, Junior Auror Wilson, we’ll be heading back to work. Where you should be,” Malfoy said in his tight professional voice. Harry supressed a small laugh.

"Of course, Auror Malfoy. Auror Potter.” Wilson nodded at Malfoy, then at Harry, before he walked away down the hall.

Harry looked at Malfoy, who was straightening his robes. Harry gave him a tentative smile.

"Alright, Potter?” Malfoy’s eyes flitted down Harry’s body, looking for something.

"Yeah,” Harry said, and smoothed out his disheveled robes.

"Good. And you know, Potter—” Malfoy paused, swallowed. “—if you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

Harry felt his cheeks burning. He looked down at his shoes, then back up at Malfoy. Malfoy wasn’t looking at him, but instead down the hallway towards the DMLE. His face was a little flushed, but Harry concluded that it was probably because of the heat in the cupboard.

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

Malfoy sent a short glance back toward Harry. “You’re welcome.”

He walked away, and Harry watched him go. Then he shut the cupboard door and followed him.

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Harry hated crying in front of people. And yet.

“Harry, please, don’t do this,” Draco said. His voice was thick and tearful.

It wasn’t his fault, he had to do this. He couldn’t let this go on the way it was. Harry clenched his hands into fists, shaky, always shaky lately. What was wrong with him? Draco loved him, he loved Draco, this wasn’t fair to either of them. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He had to. He was going to hurt Draco, he wasn’t good enough. He’d never be good enough.

“I have to. You understand, don’t you?”

Draco shook his head. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away tears. His shoulders shuddered with his breathing and Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest when a small sound escaped Draco’s lips.

“Please, Draco. You have to understand. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about! We were happy yesterday, we were happy this morning, and suddenly you just want to end it? What happened between then and now?”

Draco looked up at him. His face was flushed red, blotchy. It made Harry’s throat ache. He swallowed. His mind felt overfull and empty at the same time, so many things racing about in his head and not one good enough to explain how he was feeling, why he was doing this. How much he hated himself, how he felt like he wasn’t good enough, how he would never be good enough for anybody— he didn’t deserve what Draco did to him. He didn’t deserve to be happy.

“I can’t.” His voice was choked.

(He wouldn’t cry, there was no way he was going to cry in front of Draco tonight. He wouldn’t make him feel guilty.)

“Harry.”

His name sounded like an accusation. Harry ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, tried to breathe even though all the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. He was so tired. He just wanted to disappear.

“I’m fucking talking to you. You don’t get to blank out like that right now. Something is wrong, and you need to tell me what it is because I’m not just going to let this go. It’s been three years.” Draco spoke in that forceful voice, the one that always made Harry talk

“I— fuck , Draco. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.” He softened a little, stepped closer, grabbed on to Harry’s wrists. “Take a breath.”

Harry’s breathing stuttered, paused. He took a deep breath, and the room brightened and focused. He looked Draco in the eyes, then he let his gaze flicker away toward the door.

“I’m not good enough for you. I just want you to be happy so I thought if I wasn’t here—“

Draco cut him off. He grasped Harry’s wrists tighter. “Who told you that you don’t make me happy?”

“Nobody, but I thought—"

“Harry. Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

He did. Draco’s eyes met his, certain and safe and jesus, Draco was everything he needed and he was trying to leave him. What was wrong with him?

“You’re enough, okay? I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes for you to believe it. You’re enough. I love you.”

“Draco.”

“No. You’re not going to end this because of that. We’re going to work through this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re enough. You have always been enough.”

Harry started to cry. Draco pulled him closer, against his chest. The smell of him filled Harry’s lungs and he clutched at Draco’s shirt, closed his eyes and breathed him in. He didn’t deserve this. Draco. But he was going to stay. He was going to stay.

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queenofthyme

Reigniting Harry Potter (a task for Draco Malfoy)

for @purpledolphin-f, who certainly didn’t ask for it but who is getting it nonetheless. I hope this reignites your love for drarry even more. length: <5k content warning: depression

Harry has to hand it to Hermione. His heart hasn’t beat this fast since he last left the house, which is too far back to even recall properly. But it won’t last. Having Draco Malfoy let himself into your house would give anyone’s heart an unnatural jumpstart. It’s not going to do much of anything else, however.  He tells as much to Malfoy. He can’t have anyone else waste their time on him, even someone he once hated.

“No offence but you aren’t going to cure my depression.” Harry tries to say gently, so as not to provoke Malfoy, but it all comes out in a monotone anyway.

Malfoy only looks down at him from where he stands over his bed and laughs. At Harry. Harry wishes he could be bothered enough to care. “No shit, Potter. I’m not completely brainless.”

“Then why are you here?” Harry asks, curious. He is genuinely curious. It’s a relief.

Malfoy shrugs and takes a seat in the armchair by Harry’s bed. It’s where Hermione usually sits. She had levitated it from the living room downstairs. Harry has been meaning to take it back down. “I don’t have a choice, do I? Everyone’s got their eye closely trained on me, waiting for any excuse to lock up the last free death eater. So, they say jump, I say how high? They say go visit Potter, I say how often?”

Harry stares at Malfoy blankly, trying to work up the heart to be offended. He’s the same man as always: self-serving, status-orientated, arrogant Malfoy. And Harry doesn’t even care. Then something finally registers in Harry’s brain. “This is going to be a regular thing?“

“Until you’re cured, that is.” Malfoy says with a curt nod at Harry.

“You can’t cure depression.” Harry replies automatically. That much he is sure of.

Malfoy stares right back at Harry. He certainly isn’t laughing any more. “I know.”

There was a time when Harry wouldn’t have dared break eye contact with Malfoy, accepting the unspoken challenge with the loser the one to look away first. But that seems very long ago. And Harry is very tired. He looks away.

If Malfoy is surprised or disappointed, he doesn’t voice it. A loud silence follows. Harry would cradle his head in his hands but his arms prefer not to move so instead he does nothing. He lets the silence scream into his ears until it is broken by Malfoy’s quiet drawl.            

“Aren’t you going to offer me some tea?”

Harry wonders whether he has any tea left. He’s not sure. Hermione always drinks his tea. Perhaps she’s sent Draco over now so she doesn’t have to visit him anymore. They all stop visiting eventually. Ginny. Ron. Now, Hermione. He wonders how long Malfoy will last.

“Depression is no excuse for poor manners. My mother’s been depressed my whole life but she’s always courteous to guests.”

Harry realises he has forgotten to answer Malfoy’s question. He vaguely notices Malfoy leaning over his bed. He’s not interested in another staring contest so he closes his eyes. He wants to sleep.

“Fine then. I’ll make it myself, but don’t think you’re getting any.”

Harry is starting to drift into unconsciousness when a jolt near his head causes him to jerk open his eyes. A steaming cup sits at his bedside. Another remains in Malfoy’s hand as he returns to the armchair. Shortly after, Malfoy’s feet rise to rest on the side of Harry’s bed. There’s dirt on the underside of Malfoy’s boots.

Harry looks up to find Malfoy watching him intently over his teacup, a small smirk almost hidden on his face. If he is expecting a rise out of Harry just over a bit of dirt, he will be sorely disappointed. Harry lets his eyes close again.

“Accio,” Malfoy whispers. Harry is tempted to take a peek to see what Malfoy is doing in his bedroom but he stops himself. Whatever he’s doing, it doesn’t matter. He’ll get bored and leave soon. Leave Harry alone with the blaring silence.

“Are you going to sleep all day?” Asks Malfoy.

Clearly not. It’s not like he is able to sleep with Malfoy continuously interrupting him. Not that he gets much sleep on other days either. More so that he lies in bed, awake. Exhausted from doing absolutely nothing. So finally, he opens his eyes and bites back:

“Are you going to sit there all day?”

Malfoy scoffs at that. “Of course not. That would be terribly dull. You’re not much of a conversationalist, you know. I’m going to wait a couple of hours which will seem like a commendable amount of time to stay with you and then leave. And tomorrow I’ll do the same thing. Although perhaps I might bring my own reading material. This is dreadful.”

Harry’s eyes dart down to Malfoy’s hands and February’s issue of Broomsticks and Bludgers. It’s August.

“It’s Ginny’s.”

“Ah yes,” Malfoy says, smiling cruelly now, “the weasel always did have poor taste.”

“Don’t call Ginny that,” Harry snaps. He almost reaches for his wand until he realises he can’t remember where he left it.

Malfoy raises a single eyebrow, managing to make it look effortless. Harry notices his eyes scanning the barcode of the magazine, where the date is surely written. “Does she visit often?” He asks.

The smug bastard. Harry wants to rip his face off…no, he wants to punch the bastard until his face becomes unrecognisable and…no, he wants to hold a wand to Malfoy’s throat and make the coward beg for his life. Except he doesn’t want to do any of that. It seems like an awful amount of effort. And he still doesn’t know where his wand is. So instead, he does absolutely nothing.

When it’s clear Harry isn’t going to rise to Malfoy’s cruel bait, he sighs, long and obnoxiously. “You really are boring. I don’t know how you lie here all day doing nothing.”

Harry doesn’t want to reply to that either but he can’t help himself. “It’s not like I enjoy it, Malfoy.”

Harry can feel Malfoy staring at him but he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact. He waits until he feels Malfoy’s gaze drop and closes his eyes once more. Malfoy doesn’t say anything else. The only noise in the room is the odd turn of a glossy magazine page. Harry counts each turn until he falls asleep.

When he awakes, the sun is still up, but Hermione’s chair is empty.

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alxhmora

Cat earmuffs

Harry couldn’t get his eyes off of Draco. He just couldn’t. Not even if his life depended on it. Harry had returned to finish his last year at Hogwarts and during the sorting hat’s song he had decided to just fuck it and live his life the way he wanted to. So the very next day he had prepared a statement and sent it to the Daily Prophet. “THE CHOSEN ONE CHOOSES MEN” Oh the collective gasps he heard had given him a lot of joy, especially seeing Draco almost spit his tea out. But he hadn’t been prepared for what Draco did after that.  He flirted with Harry. Found ways to tease him, complimented him, batted his eyelashes and generally made life difficult for Harry. Then one day Draco cornered him in an empty corridor on the way to charms and was just about to start teasing him when Harry, once again, thought fuck it and grabbed Draco and kissed him. 

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queenofthyme

Harry Potter can’t sleep (and neither can Draco Malfoy)

prompt: pillow covers (thanks @miniemcgee) <5k

Fuck this, Harry thinks, listening to the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets as the insufferable git rolls over for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. And fuck McGonagall for assigning Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be his roommate. No wait, Harry immediately takes this back. Even in his internal monologue he isn’t comfortable disrespecting McGonagall.

Still Malfoy is a nightmare to dorm with. Merlin, Harry would much rather be having a nightmare – at least then he’d actually be sleeping! Malfoy tosses and turns all night. He gets up and visits the bathroom two-three times every night. What, does he have a bladder the size of a peanut? It’s ridiculous.

All Harry wants is to sleep. All Malfoy seems to do every night is make as much noise as possible. Harry mentions it to Ron once at breakfast. Even though all the eight years have been given new shared “houseless” dorms, thankfully they’re still allowed to sit at their house tables. Harry is incredibly grateful for this. It’s bad enough staying awake all night listening to Malfoy, he’d hate to have to put up with him in the daylight as well.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Ron asks.

“He makes noises, Ron, in his bed. All night!” Harry explains, desperate for someone to understand his frustration. It’s constant, night after night. Rustle rustle rustle.

Ron looks at Harry like he’s lost his mind, a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry doesn’t bring it up again.

Draco is tired. So very tired. He can’t remember ever not feeling tired. It’s been so long since he’s been able to really sleep. At least two years, maybe more. Probably more. He thought things would change after the Battle of Hogwarts. That Voldemort’s death would give him peace. But it hasn’t. Nothing seems to. He doubts anything ever will.

Every night it’s the same. He lies in bed desperately willing himself to sleep, for his body to give in and relax. But the relaxation never comes. Sure he gets bits of rest here and there but it’s always fleeting, never enough. The morning takes a lifetime to arrive and yet, somehow, it’s always too soon.

Tonight he studies late in the library. He pushes himself to remain for as long as possible. What’s the point in going to bed anyway? Finally the exhaustion becomes too much for him and he heads back to the dorm, all the while knowing the exhaustion isn’t enough to grant him sleep. It never is.

His dorm is dark. Potter must already be in bed. He is surprised by how early all the eighth years go to bed. In Slytherin lights out was always well after midnight. Unfortunately, not many others from Slytherin have returned to Hogwarts to back him up on this. So everyone seems to retire by 10pm every night.

He stumbles around the dark room, trying to be quiet, his arm reaching out in front of him searching for his bed pole to grasp, while his eyes adjust. There. Using the bed post as a guide, he lets himself fall into bed.

Ah. His body crumples inwards, pleased. It takes all Draco’s determination to keep his body upright throughout the day when all he wants to do is collapse. His body craves for sleep all day and then when he finally gets to bed, nothing. Yet another restless night.

Except today something feels different. His pillow is softer somehow, his blanket warmer. There’s something else too.  A strong, commanding scent he’s never noticed before. He breathes in deeply and lets it wash over him. Grapefruit. Honey. Ginger. It’s comforting. And familiar. He takes another breath. And another. His eyes close.

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Unconventional

Title: Unconventional Author: @quibblersandquidditch Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1082 Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, mentions of sex and infidelity Summary: Draco and Harry haven’t seen each other in three years. When Draco receives Apparation coordinates, he has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly who sent them. After all, who would meet at such an unconventional place as a crumbling house other than somebody as unconventional as Harry Potter?

Story under the cut

I'm just gonna let this stay here

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alxhmora

Nightmares and Crushes

He screamed and screamed as the Cruciatus ripped through his body and set his mind on fire. He was breathing quite loud from the pain when he woke up, gasping but within minutes he had controled his breathing effectively. He was an expert afterall. But today’s nightmare had been different. Way different than the regular ‘Noseless Bastard and his Snake’ act that his subconscious usually pulled on him. Today he had gone back to the time he had been eleven. The time he had told his parents that he was in love with a boy (*cough* Potter *cough*). Mother was just calmly looking at him but Father… Father had never seemed so angry before And that should have been a warning to him for the slap that was to come along with the long hours of lectures on how to be a “Malfoy man” that had followed. It had been this very reason why he had tried so hard to hate Potter. It hadn’t worked but at least he’d tried. He was really surprised by his nightmare though It had only been a slap but his twisted subconscious had warped the scene and put in a Cruciatus instead. He got out of bed and went into the en suite to wash his face anr clean up all the sweat and tears. He was wiping his face when he heard the door of his hotel room open and rushed footsteps coming in. He quickly whipped out his wand from where it was holding his hair up. “Malfoy ?” Potter whisper shouted, “are you okay ? I heard loud breathing and gasps and all.” He relaxed,“I’m here Potter and I’m fine. Nothing happened. Stop being so jumpy, the suspect has not even moved out of his room. You can relax, for god’s sake.” He drawled back. “Yeah but I HEARD those noises and I… wait were you having a nightmare ??” Potter had come into the bathroom by this time and was currently looking at Draco through the mirror just like… For the hundredth time Draco wondered why he had to be in a muggle hotel with thin walls, why was he assigned to this trifle potions smuggling case and why, in the name of Merlin’s pants, was he paired with Harry fucking Potter ??? After three years as partners you tend to notice stuff about each other. No wonder Potter could immediately guess that he was having a nightmare but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t find it annoying. “I said I’m fine, Potter,” he said firmly as he moved out of the bathroom “you can go back to sleep now.” He turned to look at Potter again and registered in the back of his mind just how awesome that arse was. Draco had seen his share of arses (visiting gay clubs after the war had been liberating for him. No one telling him how to be a “Malfoy man”) and Potter’s was the finest he had seen Potter hesitated, “I… uh I used to have nightmare’s too so it’s okay, you can tell me.” Potter was only trying to be civil but Draco exahasperatedly said, “Potter, I said I am fine. Why won’t you leave me alone !?” “Alright Malfoy, don’t get your knickers in a twist!” Potter frowned. At that moment Draco, who couldn’t quite control his tongue, murmured “As if I was wearing any” Shit, he thought and looked up to see Potter blushing in the most adorable way. Well that was interesting, Draco thought. Potter was blushing but not in a way that would suggest he disliked the idea of him not wearing his pants under his pajama bottoms He had known that Potter swung both ways but he had not realized that Potter might like HIM. Hmmm… It seemed like there was some research to be done on the ‘Potter Crush Case’ To be continued…

Just thought I'll leave this here...

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gregqoyle

i’m back again making another net!! so basically, the @drarrywritersnet is a place for drarry writers to get their stories out there, a place for people to ask for fic recs, and a place for writing challenges for all to join in!! but imma want some help so…

T O   J O I N : follow me reblog this post (likes for bookmarks only) complete this tiny form must be able to use kik track #drarrywritersnet
W H A T   Y O U   G E T : new friends place to promote your writings group chat to yell about drarry 24/7 my eternal gratitude

this will be until the 17th of March (i know, only two weeks, but i may extend this if i need to) thank you all!! and good luck (i cant wait to read all your writing hehe)

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