#Clean Master Serial Key

[weird-song-bracket]

Round 2 Side B

I like bananas (because they have no bones): The blog runne'rs one choice. i put this in because it's the song that is the entire reason this bracket exist, they truly were singing about some wild shit even back in the 30's. if you like this blog then consider voting for this song because THEY LIKE BANANAS BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO BONES

in corpore sano: In Corpore Sano was the Serbian Eurovision entry in 2022. I think that when a lot of people think of Eurovision, they think of key changes and big pop songs about love, so a song like this is a huge song of whiplash. It's essentially a critique of the Serbian healthcare system, but also - and more importantly - about peoples' obsession with health. It's about how people become so, so obsessed with their body and having a healthy body - diets, exercise, you know - that they become depressed and obsessive. The song ends by saying: "Corpus je sanum i šta ćemo sad? Mens infirma in corpore sano Animus tristis in corpore sano Mens desperata in corpore sano Mens conterrita in corpore sano I šta ćemo sad?" Which translates to "The body is healthy, so what do we do now? A sick mind in a healthy body A sad soul in a healthy body A desperate mind in a healthy body A frightened mind in a healthy body So what do we do now?" The performance used religious imagery, and people have talked about how it also shows that mental health problems are often dismissed in parts of Serbia and are said to be cured with religion, but for the most part, it's about the focus on having a healthy body. But in terms of the actual music? It's weird as fuck as well. I think it's near to impossible to place this song in a standard genre. Google told me the genres are Indian Film Pop and Classical? Wikipedia told me it's avante-pop and art pop which is probably what I would have described it as, but my god it's one of the weirdest and most brilliant songs ever.

monsieur: Song is from the POV of a Butler (or some other domestic servant). He describes his master as someone respected by neighbors, liked by animals, who cheers up a crying child and helps a blind man crossing a street. This master tends to roses, and sometimes, he kills people. This butler narrator is working for a serial killer. He seems totally fine with cleaning up crime scenes and other related duties. He also sounds pretty respectful of the "Monsieur" he's working for. At the end of the song, the "Monsieur" gets hanged and the narrator, now jobless, asks the judge who condemned his late master to hire him as a servant.

songs under the cut

[entrepreneurstoolkit]

5 Simple Statements About Pool Explained

The many balls need to be pocketed, the player with the last shot wins. Just one-Pocket: A strategic recreation the place Every participant is assigned one of many corner pockets from the table. The initial player which can pocket 8 balls while in the corner hole of his opponent wins.

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[replicamasterwatches177p]

How to Tell a Fake Rolex Yacht Master II: A Comprehensive Guide

The Rolex Yacht Master II is a stunning timepiece that embodies luxury, precision, and style. However, with its popularity, it has become a target for counterfeiters. If you're considering purchasing a Yacht Master II, it's crucial to know how to differentiate between a genuine Rolex and a fake one. In this guide, we’ll explore the key features to look out for when determining the authenticity of a Rolex Yacht Master II.

Understanding the Rolex Yacht Master II

The Yacht Master II was designed for sailors and is known for its regatta countdown feature and striking aesthetics. With a variety of materials like gold, platinum, and stainless steel, the Yacht Master II is not just a watch; it’s a statement piece. But how can you ensure that the watch you're eyeing is genuine?

1. Check the Weight

One of the first indicators of a fake Rolex Yacht Master II is its weight. Genuine Rolex watches are made with high-quality materials, making them heavier than their counterfeit counterparts. If the watch feels unusually light, it’s likely a fake.

2. Inspect the Quality of the Craftsmanship

Rolex is renowned for its superior craftsmanship. Look closely at the details of the watch, including the finishing, engraving, and overall quality. A real Yacht Master II will have sharp, clean edges and precise detailing. If you notice any rough edges or poor quality, it’s a red flag.

3. Examine the Dial

The dial of the Rolex Yacht Master II is one of its most distinguishing features. The lettering should be crisp, and the logo should be correctly positioned. Pay attention to the color and finish as well; a genuine dial will have a flawless appearance without any smudges or inconsistencies.

4. Look at the Cyclops Lens

The Cyclops lens on the Rolex Yacht Master II magnifies the date display, and it is one of the most notable features of the watch. On a genuine Rolex, the magnification is typically 2.5x, allowing you to see the date clearly. If the date appears flat or the magnification is weak, the watch is likely a counterfeit.

5. Check the Serial and Model Numbers

Every genuine Rolex has a unique serial and model number engraved between the lugs at the 6 o'clock position. Ensure that these numbers are not only present but also correctly formatted. The engraving on a real Rolex will be deep and clear, while fakes often have shallow or poorly executed engravings.

6. Listen to the Movement

Rolex watches are known for their smooth, sweeping second hand. If you notice a ticking motion, it could indicate a fake. The movement of a genuine Yacht Master II is fluid and seamless, reflecting the high-quality Swiss movement inside.

7. Review the Price

If a deal seems too good to be true, it probably is. Rolex watches, including the Yacht Master II, are luxury items that come with a hefty price tag. If you find a Yacht Master II being sold at a significantly lower price, be cautious—it may be a counterfeit.

8. Purchase from Reputable Sources

To ensure that you are buying a genuine Rolex Yacht Master II, always purchase from reputable dealers or authorized retailers. If you’re considering a replica watch, Luxe Replica Watche offers a wide range of high-quality replica watches that closely mimic the originals. While these replicas are not genuine, they provide an affordable option for watch enthusiasts.

Conclusion

Knowing how to tell a fake Rolex Yacht Master II is essential for any potential buyer. By examining the weight, craftsmanship, dial, Cyclops lens, serial numbers, movement, and price, you can make an informed decision and avoid being scammed. If you’re looking for luxury replicas at an affordable price, visit Luxe Replica Watche for quality options that won’t break the bank.

[beaconcoder]

Effective Tips for Java Developers to Prepare for Interviews

Introduction

Interview preparation is crucial for Java developers aiming to land their dream job. With Java being one of the most widely used programming languages, employers expect candidates to be skilled in both technical and non-technical areas. This guide outlines essential tips and strategies to help you prepare effectively for your Java development interviews. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced developer, being ready for the variety of questions that may come up will give you the confidence to ace the interview.

Java interviews often focus on core programming concepts, problem-solving skills, and your ability to handle real-world development challenges. Effective job preparation for Java also requires you to prepare for behavioral questions to showcase your teamwork and communication skills.

Section 1: Strengthen Your Core Java Concepts

The foundation of any Java interview is your knowledge of core concepts. Employers will test your understanding of Java fundamentals, so it’s essential to master these key topics:

Object-Oriented Programming (OOP) Concepts: Understand principles like encapsulation, inheritance, polymorphism, and abstraction.

Exception Handling: Learn how Java manages errors and how to handle exceptions effectively.

Collections Framework: Familiarize yourself with collections such as Lists, Sets, and Maps.

Multithreading and Concurrency: Understand thread management, synchronization, and how Java handles parallel processes.

Generics and Serialization: These advanced topics are crucial for building scalable and efficient applications.

In addition, you should review Data Structures and Algorithms. Employers commonly ask questions related to arrays, linked lists, stacks, queues, trees, hash maps, and more. It's essential to understand the time complexity of different operations and how to optimize code.

Section 2: Practice Coding Challenges

Practicing coding challenges is one of the best ways to prepare for technical interviews. There are many platforms where you can practice coding problems, including:

LeetCode

HackerRank

CodeChef

Focus on problems that involve array manipulation, string handling, sorting, and searching algorithms. Be sure to also work on recursion and dynamic programming, as these concepts are frequently tested.

Setting a daily practice routine will help you stay consistent. Try to solve coding problems regularly to sharpen your problem-solving skills and improve your speed.

Section 3: Revise Object-Oriented Design Principles

Java is an object-oriented programming language, so you'll need to demonstrate a strong understanding of OOP design principles. Key principles to focus on include:

SOLID Principles: Learn how to write clean, maintainable, and scalable code using these design principles.

Design Patterns: Study commonly used design patterns like Singleton, Factory, Observer, and Strategy. These are often used in Java applications to solve recurring design problems.

Be prepared to solve common design problems and explain how OOP principles apply to real-world scenarios. Understanding UML diagrams and how to design software systems is also essential.

Section 4: Focus on Java Frameworks and Libraries

Many Java applications are built using popular frameworks and libraries. Familiarize yourself with frameworks like:

Spring: Used for building enterprise-level applications with dependency injection.

Hibernate: An ORM (Object-Relational Mapping) framework used for managing database interactions.

JavaFX: For building graphical user interfaces (GUIs).

Understand how to use dependency injection in Spring, manage database operations with ORM, and apply basic MVC (Model-View-Controller) concepts in Java applications.

Section 5: Prepare for System Design and Architecture Questions

System design and architecture questions test your ability to build large-scale applications. Key topics to cover include:

RESTful APIs and Microservices: Understand how to design and implement RESTful web services.

Scalability, Load Balancing, and Caching: Learn how to build systems that can handle high traffic and optimize performance.

Database Design and Optimization: Be familiar with both SQL and NoSQL databases and understand when to use each.

Distributed Systems and Cloud Services: Know how to design systems that run on distributed networks and use cloud platforms like AWS or Google Cloud.

Section 6: Brush Up on Java Build Tools and DevOps Knowledge

Many modern Java projects use build tools and DevOps practices. Familiarize yourself with:

Maven and Gradle: These are essential tools for managing project dependencies and automating builds.

Version Control (Git): Understand how to use Git for source control and collaborative development.

CI/CD Pipelines: Learn how to set up Continuous Integration/Continuous Deployment (CI/CD) pipelines for automating testing and deployment.

You should also understand the basics of containerization with Docker and orchestration with Kubernetes. These tools are commonly used in DevOps environments to deploy Java applications efficiently.

Section 7: Prepare for Behavioral Interview Questions

In addition to technical skills, employers want to know how well you work with others. Be ready for behavioral questions such as:

Examples of past projects and challenges you've faced.

How you handle teamwork, deadlines, and problem-solving.

Your approach to time management and personal development.

Use the STAR technique (Situation, Task, Action, Result) to structure your answers. This approach helps you provide clear, concise, and impactful responses.

Section 8: Mock Interviews and Communication Skills

Mock interviews are a great way to practice for the real thing. They simulate the interview environment and help you get comfortable with both technical and non-technical questions.

Practice live coding interviews to simulate the pressure of solving problems in front of an interviewer.

Role-play technical and HR rounds to practice answering behavioral questions and explaining your thought process.

During coding interviews, focus on communication. Explain your thought process as you solve problems and discuss any alternative solutions or optimizations you can think of.

Conclusion

Preparing for a Java development interview requires a combination of technical knowledge, problem-solving skills, and communication abilities. By consistently practicing coding challenges, mastering core Java concepts, and understanding system design principles, you'll be well-prepared for any interview.

Remember, preparation doesn't stop at technical skills. Make sure you also work on your behavioral interview responses and communication skills to leave a lasting impression on your potential employer. Keep learning and stay updated with the latest Java technologies and trends.

[korshubudemycoursesblog]

Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero

In the world of data processing, YAML, JSON, and JSONPath play crucial roles in simplifying data structuring and access. If you're looking to master these essential technologies, the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero is the perfect place to begin your journey.

In this blog, we will take an in-depth look at these technologies, their significance in modern development, and why this course can help you gain a competitive edge. This article is crafted with top-performing keywords from SERP, Google Trends, and Google Keyword Planner to enhance its SEO performance.

What is YAML?

YAML (YAML Ain't Markup Language) is a human-readable data serialization standard. It is widely used for configuration files and data interchange between different applications. YAML is popular because of its simplicity and ease of reading, which makes it ideal for applications like Kubernetes, Ansible, and other configuration management tools.

Why YAML is Important?

YAML is preferred over JSON and XML for configuration files due to its clean and minimalistic structure. As an aspiring developer or DevOps engineer, understanding YAML is essential because it’s used in popular technologies such as Docker, Kubernetes, and CI/CD pipelines.

Key features of YAML:

Human-readable format

Supports complex data structures (lists, maps)

Minimal syntax with indentation-based structure

To master these skills, the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero can be the stepping stone towards a proficient understanding of YAML.

What is JSON?

JSON (JavaScript Object Notation) is a lightweight data format that is easy to read and write for humans and simple to parse and generate for machines. It’s an essential skill for developers, especially those working with web applications and APIs.

Why JSON is Important?

JSON is omnipresent in the tech ecosystem. It is the standard format for data exchange between web clients and servers, especially in REST APIs. Whether you’re building front-end web applications, back-end services, or working with APIs, you’ll come across JSON.

Key features of JSON:

Text format that is language-independent

Easily readable and writable

Frequently used in APIs for data transfer

In the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero, you’ll gain a solid understanding of JSON’s fundamentals, allowing you to work effectively with various data sources.

What is JSONPath?

JSONPath is a query language for JSON, much like XPath is for XML. It allows you to extract specific data from JSON structures using path-like syntax. JSONPath is powerful because it simplifies the process of navigating through complex JSON data.

Why JSONPath is Important?

In scenarios where JSON is the primary format for data exchange, JSONPath simplifies the process of retrieving and manipulating data. For example, in APIs, databases, and cloud services that use JSON, JSONPath can streamline data extraction.

Key features of JSONPath:

Querying nested JSON data

Supports conditional expressions

Allows for easy data extraction from JSON

The Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero covers JSONPath in detail, ensuring you gain the skills necessary to manipulate JSON data with precision.

Who Should Take the Ultimate YAML Course?

The Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero is perfect for:

Developers looking to expand their knowledge of data serialization.

DevOps engineers working with tools like Kubernetes and Ansible.

Data engineers who need to process JSON data in ETL pipelines.

API developers who want to master JSON for seamless client-server communication.

System administrators who frequently deal with configuration files written in YAML.

What You Will Learn in the Ultimate YAML Course

This course provides a comprehensive overview of YAML, JSON, and JSONPath, starting from the basics and advancing to more complex topics. Below are the key concepts covered in the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero:

1. YAML Fundamentals

Introduction to YAML syntax

Writing YAML configuration files

YAML best practices

Converting data between YAML, JSON, and XML

2. JSON Mastery

Understanding JSON syntax

Parsing and generating JSON data in various programming languages

Working with REST APIs and handling JSON responses

Converting YAML to JSON and vice versa

3. Mastering JSONPath

Introduction to JSONPath expressions

Writing queries to extract data from complex JSON

Real-world applications of JSONPath in data analysis and API development

Integrating JSONPath with JavaScript, Python, and other languages

Top Use Cases of YAML, JSON, and JSONPath

Kubernetes Configuration Management YAML is the de facto standard for writing configuration files in Kubernetes. Understanding YAML is crucial for deploying applications, managing clusters, and configuring services in Kubernetes.

Web APIs with JSON JSON is widely used in web APIs for exchanging data between the client and server. Mastering JSON enables developers to build efficient API endpoints that can process and return structured data.

Automating Tasks with JSONPath JSONPath simplifies the process of querying JSON data, making it essential for developers working with complex datasets in APIs, databases, or data pipelines.

Why Choose the Ultimate YAML Course?

With the growing importance of YAML, JSON, and JSONPath in modern development workflows, mastering these tools can significantly enhance your career prospects. Whether you’re an aspiring DevOps engineer, a backend developer, or a system administrator, understanding how to work with structured data is crucial.

In the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero, you’ll gain practical, hands-on experience with real-world use cases that you can apply immediately in your job. The course is designed for beginners, so no prior experience is required.

Why This Course Stands Out?

Comprehensive Coverage: From YAML syntax to JSONPath queries, the course provides an all-inclusive guide.

Practical Applications: Learn how YAML, JSON, and JSONPath are used in tools like Kubernetes, APIs, and automation scripts.

Up-to-date Content: The course includes modern use cases and integrates the latest trends in DevOps, API development, and cloud computing.

Final Thoughts: Why You Should Enroll in the Ultimate YAML Course

Whether you're just starting your development journey or are looking to enhance your DevOps skills, the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero will equip you with the tools to handle structured data efficiently. You'll walk away from this course with a thorough understanding of YAML, JSON, and JSONPath, as well as practical skills that can be applied immediately in your job.

Take the next step in your career by mastering these essential technologies with the Ultimate YAML Course: YAML JSON JSONPath Zero. The demand for these skills is only increasing, and by enrolling today, you’ll be ahead of the curve.

Start learning today and transform your ability to manage and manipulate data!

[jessicabawa]

Deep Dive into Core Java: Unlocking Advanced Potential

For programmers who have mastered the fundamentals of Java, the journey doesn't end there. The vast world of Core Java offers a treasure trove of advanced concepts and techniques waiting to be explored. This deep dive delves into some key areas that can propel your Java development skills to the next level.

1. Multithreading: The Power of Parallel Processing

One of the most significant features of Core Java is multithreading. It allows your program to execute multiple threads concurrently, maximizing resource utilization and improving application responsiveness. Understanding multithreading concepts like:

Thread Creation and Synchronization: Learning how to create and manage threads effectively, including synchronization mechanisms like locks and semaphores, is crucial for avoiding race conditions and ensuring thread safety.

Concurrency Utilities: Core Java provides powerful concurrency utilities like the Executor framework, which simplifies thread management and scheduling tasks.

Mastering multithreading unlocks the potential to build highly responsive and efficient applications, especially for tasks involving network communication or complex calculations.

2. Exception Handling: Grace Under Pressure

Errors and unexpected situations are inevitable in any software. Core Java's robust exception handling mechanism allows you to gracefully handle these situations and prevent your application from crashing. Key concepts to explore include:

Try-Catch Blocks: These blocks provide a structured way to catch exceptions and execute alternative code paths.

Custom Exceptions: You can create custom exception classes to handle specific error scenarios in your application.

Throwing Exceptions: Understanding when and how to throw exceptions effectively aids in error communication and debugging.

By mastering exception handling, you can write more robust and user-friendly applications that can recover gracefully from errors and provide meaningful feedback to users.

3. Collections Framework: Organizing Your Data Efficiently

Core Java offers a rich Collections Framework that provides various data structures for efficient storage and manipulation of data. Exploring advanced collections like:

Concurrent Collections: These collections are thread-safe, making them ideal for use in multithreaded environments.

Generics: Generics allow you to create type-safe collections, enhancing code readability and maintainability.

Comparators and Comparables: These interfaces allow you to customize the sorting behavior of collections based on your specific needs.

By delving into the advanced features of the Collections Framework, you can write more efficient and organized code that leverages the strengths of different data structures.

4. Java I/O (Input/Output): Mastering Data Streams

Java provides powerful mechanisms for interacting with various data sources like files, networks, and databases. Advanced concepts like:

Stream API: This API offers a concise and functional way to process data streams, enabling powerful data manipulation capabilities.

Serialization and Deserialization: These techniques allow you to convert objects into a byte stream for storage or transmission and then reconstruct them back into objects when needed.

NIO (New I/O): NIO provides a non-blocking, asynchronous approach to I/O operations, boosting performance for network-intensive applications.

Understanding advanced I/O techniques allows you to build robust applications that efficiently interact with various data sources.

5. Advanced Object-Oriented Programming (OOP) Concepts

Java's object-oriented features are fundamental to writing clean and maintainable code. Advanced OOP concepts like:

Inner Classes: These nested classes provide a way to create classes within other classes, promoting code organization and encapsulation.

Reflection: Reflection allows your program to inspect and manipulate the structure of classes and objects at runtime, enabling powerful metaprogramming techniques.

Annotations: Annotations provide a way to add metadata to your code, enhancing code readability and enabling powerful features like dependency injection.

By exploring these advanced OOP concepts, you can write more flexible and maintainable code that leverages the full potential of object-oriented design principles.

Conclusion: The Journey Continues

These are just a few areas within Core Java that offer immense potential for growth. As you delve deeper, you'll discover a vast landscape of advanced topics like Java Concurrency API, advanced networking features, and database integration techniques. This continuous learning journey unlocks doors to building more complex, scalable, and efficient Java applications.

So, take the plunge, explore the depths of Core Java, and unleash your true potential as a Java developer!

[spaceistheplaceart]

Body Swap - How Do I Talk Like That? Part One

can you tell I got a little lazy on this one? aha

masterpost

Summarized ID: Reigen cleans up his appearance and tries to teach Mob about customer service. It makes Mob nervous and he's not quite getting it. Then, the customer comes in.

FULL ID UNDER CUT:

(I'll be referring to Reigen in Mob's body as Reigen and Mob in Reigen's body as Mob.)

A short compilation of Reigen fixing his appearance. He brushes his hair to the side, buttons up his PJ shirt, rolls up his sleeves, and sprays some deodorant under his arms. Then, he comes out of the bathroom and asks: "Well? How do I look?" Mob is reading a book at his desk, and Dimple is looking at Reigen.

Reigen stands with his arms out, waiting for a response. Dimple says: "You're still a kid in PJs, Reigen." Reigen looks to the side and clicks his teeth. "Tch."

He comes over to Mob, who is still reading a "how to" book. He leans over his shoulder. "So, you think you're getting the hang of it?" He asks.

Mob replies: "Not really. It looks complicated."

Reigen asks: "Which part?"

Mob points to a page, his finger is blocking some of the text. "Well... It says phrasing is important, and it ggives an example, but I don't see how this is rude."

The page reads: "Writing is very important. The key is nuance. How you phrase your sentences can make... difference between sounding... you care, and sounding like... of a jerk.

"You have to log out first."

"logging you should... that problem!"

Reigen puts a finger to his chin in thought. "Well, Mob, using 'you' in a request can sometimes be seen as rude, like you're ordering them around." He points to the page. "Also the tone of it. See how it's a period and not an exclamation? That makes it come off coldly."

Mob looks up at Reigen, sweating a bit. He's tense, but his expression is still stiff. He looks back down at the book. "Then, um... Tip #10 says to solve problems in new ways for each customer? I'm not sure I could exorcise spirits in..." He looks to the side, thinking. "Uh... for you to... I mean..."

Reigen interrupts: "Ignore that tip, we aren't doing that."

"Oh." Mob responds. There is a sweatdrop on his cheek. His eyes are a bit wider.

Reigen puts a hand on Mob's shoulder, his other gesturing as he speaks: "The main thing you gotta worry about today, Mob, is just trying to finish the sale. Be polite, figure out his problem, get the where and when... and then help him select a package! After that, It'll all fall into place."

Dimple says: "You're making him nervous."

Reigen leans over to look at Mob's face. He does indeed look a little nervous. Reigen asks: "You'll be fine. You've watched me work enough years, right?"

Dimple responds: "I don't think he's been taking notes, Reigen. He's got a whole life to worry about, why would he be watching YOU so intently?"

Reigen puts his hands on his hips. "Fine! Alright, alright, I'll just teach you a few things-- stepping stones, really. The basics."

He waves his hand. "Ok. Posture. Stand up, Mob."

Mob stands up. Reigen waves around his hand again, the other in his pocket. "Great! See, look at that, you're as straight as an arrow! Already, you've got a basic nailed down naturally!"

"Oh, Thank you, Master." Mob says.

"Now try giving your best smile!" Reigen beams, giving Mob an example of a nice smile. There are sparkles around him. The smile is cute! "Like this!" He says.

Mob tries to mimick it, but the smile is creepy. All his teeth are drawn in, and his eyes are squinted nearly shut. He's sweating and there's a wrinkle on the corner of his mouth. "This?"

Reigen looks unsure. "Ah... could use a bit of... improvement."

"You look like a serial killer." Dimple says bluntly.

Reigen glares at him and smacks him with the back of his hand. He drops his hand and stares in shock at Dimple. "Wait, did I just touch you?"

Dimple hides behind Mob's shoulder, glaring at him and sweating. "You do that again and I'll kill you."

Reigen looks at him deviously. There's a sparkle beside his head and his mouth is curled up into a cat's smile, much like a :3. He stretches out, dropping the expression, and cracks his knuckles. "Alright. as I was saying..."

We see the silhouettes of Mob, Reigen, and Dimple, as Reigen talks to Mob for a while.

"You think you got it?" He asks. Mob looks down at him, expression blank. "...Yes."

He sits down, and Dimple floats over with a mocking expression. "Don't worry, Shigeo! All you have to do is be good at talking and read the room. You're super good at that, aren't you?~"

Mob glares at Dimple, sweating and annoyed. "No, I'm not. But Master is counting on me, so--"

Reigen pinches his brows together. "Mob, Mob! Adding all this pressure will just make things worse!"

He places a hand on Mob's shoulder and looks him in the eye. "I have complete faith in you?"

Close up of Reigen's face. He looks very nervous, indicating that he probably does not have complete faith in Mob.

Mob looks at him through his brows/hair. "... Thanks."

The door opens, both of them turning to look at the source of the noise.

We see on the top of the head of the client, who has side swept hair and is coloured red. Dimple smirks from the top left corner of the panel and says: "Showtime."

END ID

[secretthingcolor]

Clean Master Pro Crack 7.5.2 is specially created for PC which everyone can easily install on their PC. After setup, users can clean up the entire PC easily.

[weird-song-bracket]

Round 2 Side B

I like bananas (because they have no bones): The blog runne'rs one choice. i put this in because it's the song that is the entire reason this bracket exist, they truly were singing about some wild shit even back in the 30's. if you like this blog then consider voting for this song because THEY LIKE BANANAS BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO BONES

in corpore sano: In Corpore Sano was the Serbian Eurovision entry in 2022. I think that when a lot of people think of Eurovision, they think of key changes and big pop songs about love, so a song like this is a huge song of whiplash. It's essentially a critique of the Serbian healthcare system, but also - and more importantly - about peoples' obsession with health. It's about how people become so, so obsessed with their body and having a healthy body - diets, exercise, you know - that they become depressed and obsessive. The song ends by saying: "Corpus je sanum i šta ćemo sad? Mens infirma in corpore sano Animus tristis in corpore sano Mens desperata in corpore sano Mens conterrita in corpore sano I šta ćemo sad?" Which translates to "The body is healthy, so what do we do now? A sick mind in a healthy body A sad soul in a healthy body A desperate mind in a healthy body A frightened mind in a healthy body So what do we do now?" The performance used religious imagery, and people have talked about how it also shows that mental health problems are often dismissed in parts of Serbia and are said to be cured with religion, but for the most part, it's about the focus on having a healthy body. But in terms of the actual music? It's weird as fuck as well. I think it's near to impossible to place this song in a standard genre. Google told me the genres are Indian Film Pop and Classical? Wikipedia told me it's avante-pop and art pop which is probably what I would have described it as, but my god it's one of the weirdest and most brilliant songs ever.

monsieur: Song is from the POV of a Butler (or some other domestic servant). He describes his master as someone respected by neighbors, liked by animals, who cheers up a crying child and helps a blind man crossing a street. This master tends to roses, and sometimes, he kills people. This butler narrator is working for a serial killer. He seems totally fine with cleaning up crime scenes and other related duties. He also sounds pretty respectful of the "Monsieur" he's working for. At the end of the song, the "Monsieur" gets hanged and the narrator, now jobless, asks the judge who condemned his late master to hire him as a servant.

songs under the cut

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

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The Man From Willow Creek - PART ONE Pairing: Mountain Man! Dean/Author! Reader

Y/N isn't in a good headspace, so her publisher sends her off to a remote cabin in the mountains in an attempt to rid her of all distractions and produce the highly anticipated first draft of her last book. But as she battles with snow, word counts, and surprise visitors, she learns that not every battle needs to be won, and that happy endings aren't always what we'd think.

WC ≈ 35,000 Total A/N: Thank you to@redweddingsandbowties for helping me to churn out over 25,000 words in a week and filtering out my typing fails. Warnings: Violence, Recreational Drug Use, 18+ Smut, Pet Death

Read on AO3 or...

“Miss, your total is $426.54. Miss?”

Y/N blinked and looked up at the cashier before taking her credit card out and handing it over.

“Are you stocking up for the end of the world?” The cashier asks as he runs her card. Y/N glances at the trolley loaded with a months’ worth of non-perishables and a dozen crates of beer.

“Something like that.” She tells him as she scribbles her signature on the store receipt.

The trolley is a bit on the heavy side as she heaves it across the car park towards her truck, but she manages it. When she’s got everything all loaded up beside the bags and bags of logs she’s worked up a sweat and has to unzip her coat as she climbs up into the driver’s seat. The truck feels empty without her little border terrier, and she finds herself wishing Harley could have been with her for this new adventure.

It had been her publisher’s idea to go on this little escapade, to get her out of the city, away from all the distractions. He cared more about the lack of pages than her deteriorating mental health, but for the sake of her sanity she had agreed that a month-long retreat into the mountains might do more for her writer’s block than being in her too quiet apartment. Her creative juices had bit the dust around the same time she’d had to make the heart-breaking decision to have Harley put to sleep.

His other idea had been to get a new dog. She’d used some extraordinarily strong language at that suggestion, so… mountains.

She feels fairly well prepared. Provisioned. Whatever. The cabin her publisher had found had been empty for a few years, and she had been warned that it may take a bit of work to get the generator working, and that there would be no mobile signal out there either. But she had been equipped with a satellite phone and the publisher had done some technological whizz-bang magic that meant she would be able to send and receive emails via satellite. She’d also done her own extensive research, which hopefully meant that once she arrived, she wouldn’t have to make the drive back to civilisation until her month was up and her first draft was on its way. She had churned out three books a year at some points, she could manage this.

She reaches over to the passenger seat to pick up one of her many notebooks, this one was her ‘survival plan’. “Snow tyres, check. Firewood, yes. Socks, hundreds…” She went down the whole list, covering everything from dry shampoo to copious amounts of candy and snacks. She’d even found a repair manual for the generator online, and had both printed and laminated it, just to be thorough.

“Okay, let’s do this.” She says aloud, still not used to Harley’s absence. The truck’s engine whines a little as it starts up, and she takes a moment to put the map (also laminated) on top of the paperwork piled up on the passenger seat. She still had a few hours until noon, plenty of time to get to the cabin while it was still light and make some sort of order out of it before dark.

The first two hours of her journey went as expected. She didn’t even miss the hairpin turn she had been dreading, but as the bare trees began to curl over the road and block the sun, she felt a prickle of unease. Wishing again for Harley. What was she thinking? A woman, on her own, hiding out in a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere, all for a book she was contracted to write but had no heart for.

The last four years of her career had been dedicated to her high fantasy trilogy, the world, its characters, its mysteries. Mystery solved and arcs resolved, her baby was done. Before that she had spent years churning out a crappy serial romance saga before a well-earned break funded by selling the rights to turn them into a television series. That was until the inspiration for The Fallen had hit her. But of course, the publishers were keen to squeeze out more profit, and had coerced her into signing another book deal. They wanted a revival of the romance saga, but after over twelve years of being free from churning out two or three contentless books a year, it wasn’t something she wanted to revisit. Besides, it felt ridiculous to be in her early thirties, and turning back to something she started when she was only seventeen. Something different. She didn’t know how to write different. She had planned to save the existential breakdown until she’d arrived and at least got a fire going, but apparently her brain hadn’t got the memo, and she had to pull over to stumble from the truck and put her head between her knees. She focused on her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose… “C’mon, you can do this.” … out through the mouth.

As she climbed back into the truck sometime later, she heard an engine and slammed her door shut just in time to see beaten up chevy truck thundering past, black smoke sputtering from its exhaust. The driver beeped their horn at her, and her panic was replaced with annoyance. She’d picked a safe place to pull over, she wasn’t blocking the road. Hell, that dick didn’t even have to move positions from the centre of the road.

Apart from the short break at the side of the road, and a five-minute detour down the wrong lane, Y/N was making good time. The only problem came when the cabin was actually in sight. A tree was blocking the drive, and nowhere on the map could she pick out any way to go around. The cabin looked to be only a ten-minute walk away, but everything was blanketed in thick snow, and she had a months’ worth of wood, food, water…not to mention all her writing stuff, clothes, blankets… beers. It would take an insane number of trips and eat into her daylight. But the tree was huge, and even if she had a chain or ropes to try and pull it out of the way, she had no idea how she’d do so safely. That wasn’t something she had researched how to do.

She climbed out and her legs disappeared up to her knees in the thick snow. Not to be put off by the first hurdle, she found the keys for the cabin, gathered up the only valuable things in the truck (namely her laptop and the satellite phone), and locked the truck behind her. The tree had a tangle of roots, so it seemed to have fallen naturally. Not that she really knew what she was looking at. She skirted around the edge and stomped through the snow towards the cabin, which was bigger than she had imagined. The ‘ten minute’ walk took closer to fifteen minutes, hampered by the snow, and then there was the issue of trying to get the door open. The wood seemed to have swelled, and she had to throw her shoulder against it several times before it burst open in a cloud of dust.

It stank. It had that unlived in smell, like stagnant water, and she kept the door open – not just for the light – but for the fresh air.

It was much as she expected really, a small kitchenette (which really was just a log stove and a cobweb infested sink with a single section of worktop) with a small dining table and four chairs. A mismatched armchair and leather sofa tucked close to a log burner. Two doors stood off the one side, presumably to a bedroom and a bathroom. “Right.” She said, setting her laptop bag down and wondering what to do first.

The owners hadn’t been sure that the water supply would still work, which is why she had lugged her own plastic barrels up here, but if it was working, she wouldn’t have to carry so many.

The pumped the lever over the sink a few times, still flushed from the hard walk. After a few tries, the tap sputtered out a dead spider and rust coloured liquid, followed a moment later by clear, precious water. The initial horror at the colour of the stuff still had her deciding to get some water from the truck, however.

“Okay.” She said to herself, stepping back. “Water, oil, logs, clothes for the night, bedding, cleaning stuff. Food.” She ran through her list again and then nodded, satisfied. On her way out of the door she spotted a big old wooden sled propped up under the window. “Perfect.”

Her second trip took longer than the first, fighting the sled the entire way and almost losing the barrel of water. It slid off the sled and looked for a moment like it might roll clean of the mountain, but the packed snow stopped it in its tracks.

Catching her breath for the next trip, she checked the other side of the two doors. Discovering to her horror that both led to bedrooms, then – to her relief – that the master bedroom had a rather basic en suite. It contained one of those giant clawfoot baths you only ever saw in movies, though this one was an old-fashioned green colour and a bit rusty around the plug. She hoped she could get the generator running to enjoy a soak at some point.

She tested the double bed in the master bedroom, and then checked both the twin beds, testing which of the three was the most comfortable, and therefore the one she would be using. The other bedroom, she would use as storage for all her supplies. The big bed in the room with the en suite was fortunately the comfiest, which meant she could pile all her stuff into the room with the twin beds.

She found an old oil lamp in the kitchen cupboards and a little paraffin heater in the cupboard under the sink. It was the ancient kind with no warning labels. Though common sense filled in the unwritten ‘use in a well-ventilated space or you will suffocate’. She set it up, just to take the edge of until she could get a fire going and put the lamp on the dining table next to her laptop, deciding there and then that this evening would be electricity free. She didn’t want to have to deal with the frustrations of the generator, and it seemed encompassing of her new mountain persona to forgo some of the basic necessities.

Two trips later and her hands are blistered from the friction of the sled rope, even through her gloves. Her legs are screaming at her, and despite the three thick pairs of socks, she would put all her royalties betting on frost bite setting in. There’s one last trip to make sure she has everything she’ll need for the night and most of the next day, and then she covers the flatbed of her truck with its waterproof cover and makes sure it’s stupidly tight. None of her things will enjoy a night in the freezing cold, but as long as nothing gets too damp, everything will be fine.

The door had been open all this time, so the cabin is now just as chilled as outside, but at least it smells fresher now. Her phone – devoid of all signal – becomes a glorified sound system. The oil heater starts to inject a little warmth, and as soon as it’s warm enough to abandon her coat and gloves, she gets to work on making the place fit for habitation.

“…As long as my heart's beating, and these old lungs keep breathing, the highs and the lows, yes and the no’s…” She sings loudly as she sweeps out the log stove of half burnt longs and powdery grey ash.

By the time the sun is setting, the whole cabin is as dust free as it can be without a hoover, the log fire is roaring, the bed is made, and the only lingering issue is the draft from the front door, which – having been forced to open – is now refusing to close properly. Having decided that the back and forth from the truck was enough work for one day, Y/N simply snacks instead of making a dinner and then sits by the fire with her notebook and pen. The flannel patterned throw she’d bought from home depot thrown over her legs.

Nothing comes. Not even a silly doodle in the margin. True, she usually wrote on her laptop. But the charge wouldn’t last long, and she’d been prepared to write this book by hand.

Even with the fire and the blanket there seems to be a wickedly cool draft, and she makes a note to put a makeshift draft excluder together in the morning. Finished with her bag of chips, she stands to select another snack and grab a beer, missing Harley weaving between her legs. She twists the cap of the beer bottle and walks back to the sofa and freezes in surprise.

On the sofa, is a pleased looking black Labrador.

The beer bottle slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor. The dilemma of broken glass and soft paws snapping her out of her shock.

“Hello…” She says slowly, answered by a thumping tail on brown leather. “You stay there. Okay?”

thump thump thump

“Okay, good boy… girl… good dog. Stay.”

Fortunately all the cleaning supplies are in easy reach. Y/N focuses on sweeping up the broken glass as a priority, ignoring the beer sloshing around the stone floor and seeping into the rope rug. Glass sorted; she gets a cloth to wipe the beer up. The front door in ajar, which explains how the dog got in. But it doesn’t explain what they’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere. They seem happy enough, well fed, shiny coat, wet nose. So they’re obviously being cared for by someone.

“Okay, it’s safe.” She tells the Labrador from the floor once she’s sure all the glass is up. They seem to be a pro at broken bottles, because with the all-clear, they jump from the sofa and come greet her properly.

“Oh, yes, hello. Nice to meet you too.” She tells them, trying to shove their face away as their tongue makes a beeline for her mouth. She giggles, giving their neck a good scratch. There’s a chain collar, but no tags. “Where are you from, huh?” She asks, attempting to stand, her knees protesting against the stone floor.

There’s a tremendous bang and the front door flies open. Halfway to her feet, Y/N loses her balance and topples onto her back, staring up into the doorway.

Where a bearded man in a Stetson and a heavy coat is pointing a shotgun at her.

PART TWO

[doctorslippery]

Shea Longshanks – A human drug lord who has taken control of a wing of the prison and requires rent from others in his wing. He has a group of henchmen and acts as if he is a guard/warden.

Malcer Holden – A well-dressed half-elf necromancer who will not state why he is here. In return for information, he requires spoons, which he provides to his army of undead in hopes of digging his way out.

Zenbis Axor – A yellow dragonborn who will not speak to anyone she encounters. She possesses immense magical power but chooses to spend her days solitarily in her cell. Nobody knows the story behind her.

Durgar Steely – This dwarf holds an infinitely refilling beer glass and nobody in the prison has ever seen him sober. He is very friendly and can just about speak and walk normally.

Naroxius – The source of annoyance for much of the prison, Naroxius always manages to find a way to vandalize the prison. He has made clear that he will stop at nothing to escape, however all that he has managed to do is anger other inmates and staff. His current cell now consists of a wooden slab in the corner, after he fireballed his previous one

Argus Shatterhorn – A goliath and zealous follower of a crazed war god. He’s seemingly possesses an infinite trove of energy and vitality, laughing and preaching loudly despite being literally skewered to a wall in his cell. Nothing can shut him up short of magical silence, which he doesn’t seem to notice.

The Witch of Cretchreaver – A very polite sounding woman behind a foot of concrete and a metal door. She requests that you open the tiny hole so that she can get a look at you. She’s a medusa with her eyes pressed against the other side.

Slobfoot the Eloquent – An educated, well spoke goblin who tried to incite a political revolution. He gives a very deep, loquacious philosophical speech to the party.

Thaddeus Null – A blue dragonborn and self-proclaimed God. He doesn’t seem arrogant beside that, just comfortable and quiet. His followers are magically capable, morally bankrupt people who are trying to break him out as they speak.

The Rat – A wood elf who ratted out his bandit gangmates. Can’t be trusted, would sell their own brother for half a smoke. Nonetheless, they keep their eyes and ears open and know a lot about what’s happening in the prison.

Randy Shackleford- human, assailed a government agent with sand and authorities now cannot find his name on any records.

The Smuggler – A male gnome. He is the prison supplier who can find almost anything and smuggle it in the prison in exchange for the prison’s currency (smokes, food, etc.)

Daloriz – A blind vampire who overcame his sunlight sensitivity. He has blindsense, and his power is to the point where he can overwhelm most enemies. When spoken to, he is polite and mentions he has seen the future and knows he must wait here for the right time. Why is this vampire in prison? What is he waiting for? Who is coming? Up to the DM to decide.

Takaar ‘Two shields’ Alzurini – small time dwarf mob boss locked up for extortion and racketeering. He has boys on the outside planning to break him out.

Voracious Veronica – A cannibalistic human who is soft spoken. She claims she was a knight who resorted to ‘the worst sin of all’ when her position was under siege for months. Her skin is pale, her eyes are dull, and her gaze sends shivers up your spine. You’re almost certain she’s lying.

Gregor Brutalous – An imposing half-giant with jet black braided hair, dressed in clean formal clothing. He was a psychotic and incredibly powerful warlord, but years after his arrest insists he is trying to atone for his actions. He can easily escape (or so he claims) but refuses to leave as penance.

Marros Tarmikos – A merchant who was caught up in a bar fight with some religious fanatics. He knows a few secrets about the prison and seems to be a law-abiding citizen for the most part.

Gorgeous Gnurl – An orc pit fighter that lost his champion title to *insert NPC* and in a violent rage murders him and his entire team right there in front of the entire crowd.

Mordekai – Leader of a gang of wererats, he used his rats or ‘little friends’ to spy on people, and to blackmail them, or to sell their secrets to the highest buyer.

Torun Sacanti – This ex-palace guard was thrown in prison after he gave his friend a tour of the duke’s apartments. When asked why he is in prison, he will do whatever he can to distract the party from the question.

Tharon Ash – A Tiefling man who was kidnapped for a part in an infernal ritual but was arrested along with the cult when city guards caught them all. He will do anything short of murder to prove his innocence or escape.

Resh – This culinary master in orcish cuisine can barely speak a few sentences in common. Employed in the kitchen, he is known to sometimes get rowdy and confiscate the fingers of anyone who looks at him the wrong way.

Myrca Faro – Quiet and keeps to herself. She seems capable in many skills, decent in a fight, but is distant, mumbling to herself often, though what she’s saying can’t be heard. She was caught with her crew, but one of them testified against her. She doesn’t seem keen on reuniting since she doesn’t know who.

The Painted Claw – A charismatic rakshasa who enjoys gaining followers and leading them into a suicide pact. He is sending souls back to his master in the nine hells and he has been captured for now…

Habstrek the Painter – A former cart driver turned serial killer, she’s not getting out any time soon; she was captured during a time referred to in the local lore as ‘the summer of art’, in which she killed and drained the bodies of over twenty prison guards’ family members, apparently out of revenge for their extrajudicial killing of her apparently innocent husband, Algnir Half-Tusk. She’s fed via a wand charged with Create Food and Drink, as her cell door is welded shut. Guards hate her above almost all other prisoners, knowing she’d gladly turn her targets into further ‘paintings’.

Elgin Powell – charged with a dozen counts of kidnapping, he was a local mob boss’ favorite enforcer – with no bodies ever discovered, the families of his victims were denied even the peace of knowing that they were able to be contacted via necromancy. Reportedly, he kept his charges in a deep mine and they are, one and all, still alive, just shielded from scrying and blood legacy magic. Knows more about kidnappings than anyone local is likely to have ever considered.

Jimmy ‘Lumberjack’ Jackson – Woodcutter turned assassin. He was brutal, honest, and captured by the palace guards when they asked him to start signing his work; reportedly, he’s still working from inside of the prison, except his rates are infinitely more affordable. His signature weapon remains undiscovered – which is a neat trick, considering that it’s a massive war axe.

Anna – Kept in a dark room and bound with magic sigils, Anna is a deeply motivated, highly disturbed wandering killer, captured after a five-year hunt by professional adventurers; her modus operandi was to disguise herself as an orphan human child, infiltrate colonial outposts, and then systematically destroy food, water, and medical supplies, forcing the pioneers into madness, murder, and cannibalism. Rumors say that she’s responsible for the failure of two nation-states’ failure to expand their territories. She’s boasted she’d gladly take one another job, if freed.

Rankle the Bookkeeper – A master of puppeteering and palace intrigue, he went from entertainer to information broker in under a year; his spies consist of handmade puppets, each one capable of recording sights and sounds, he extorted vast amounts of funding from select projects and missions, lining his own pocket freely until he was captured under what many consider unusual circumstances. Some say that he did so to protect himself from the palace paladins and clergy, all of whom are above harming prisoners.

Coins and Pouch – Master forgers and loan sharks, these two brothers are a regular feature in the prison yard, dealing out loans with reasonable interest rates and obtaining rarities for other prisoners; it’s said that on the day they were brought into the prison, they presented a set of keys to a well-appointed cottage to the chief guard as a token of their appreciation. Ever since, they’re under protection and weekly payments continue to provide them with many creature comforts. Every year, on the anniversary of their incarceration, the guard that treats them the best receives a key to another cottage.

Aldac – Former adventurer, expedition guide, reformed arsonist, and now a leader of a prison yard ‘exercise group’, this monk is a dangerous person; some say that she’s building an army, others that it’s a cult, and nobody wants to test her in a straight fight since she crippled her last opponent in under ten seconds. Anything that requires focus and determination, she’s happy to offer her thoughts on, free of charge – provided that she’s shown proper respect first. Her sentence is for a triple life duration – tough luck for her, as her species is a long-lived one.

Thack – A monstrous human, he was a warlord by age fifteen, a respected bandit king at twenty, and captured during his attempt to seize the capital itself, turned over by his own command structure in exchange for lenient sentencing for war crimes. Passionate, charismatic, and mysteriously possessing a keen ear for music, he’s an example of what can happen to a Bard if they decide to turn war itself into a performance art. He’s making money through the writing of strategic, tactical and logistic guidebooks, periodically singing for the lost days of his misspent youth. He turns twenty-three in a month.

Rejoice-Cried-The-Kraken – Still living her best life, RJCTK is a priestess first, bandit second, and a model prisoner third, choosing to ignore her history of piracy and looting in exchange for running a small group of like-minded believers in the church she’s built in her cell; she served as a first officer on the flagship of a vast pirate fleet, choosing who lived and who was sacrificed to her deity, often by slow drowning or something that officials referred to as ‘hook dancing’. She makes a few extra coins giving nautical theme tattoos for fellow prisoners, each one a work of art worthy of a church’s stained-glass windows.

Prisoner #644 – Captured at the frontier, whatever it is, it’s only eaten six times in ten years, each time it was an unwary guard who strayed too close to the sealed cage covered in a thick burlap sheet. It hums at night, an eerie, unsettling event taking place only just before the onset of riots, uprisings, and acts of revenge on a wide scale inside of the prison. Recently, guards have reported that it has started to sing softly. Each of the Dead prisoners killed in the previous ten years are named, one by one, and it chuckled wetly when younger guards approach it.

Kishi the Kid – A 16-year-old changeling who attempted to steal the Crown Jewels. He’s stuck in solitary after using the persona of a guard to start a riot, and is well known for the many he’s started in the few months he’s been here

Cold Turquoise – The former cult leader of a Dragonborn pirate fleet. Will only talk in Draconian, and will give advice on how to operate a ship at a cost…

Henri Schum – Halfling Mafia-don. Used his resources and cutthroat approach to fund a smuggling operation on rare animals for collectors. Has 2 fingers missing on his left hand and has his ‘buddies’ rough up any new people who mention them.

Zarakos – Super beefy winged Tiefling. Brought in for attempting to rob a local bank and fly off with the loot, not accounting for the wizards that can cast Fly. Wings are always tied for obvious reasons. Not very smart, but very loyal. If you free his wings, he will follow you and your group until the end. Will carry and fly anyone that needs it

Kimnuan Shadestalker – Black kitsune assassin. She and her bard troupe would spread rumors about people so others would order hits on them. Specifically in for burning down a village after getting caught by the local authorities. If she can get access to her hands, she can summon a lute and cast spells to become invisible/incorporeal.

Binks Falkhorn- A scribe for 2 generations of very powerful wizards. Has not shown any criminal intent but is ordered to be imprisoned in solitary indefinitely after the wizard went mad and went on a killing spree, showing horrible power. His scribe is the last shred of evidence of the wizard’s work. It would be too dangerous to let the scribe roam free, but it would be foolish to kill him in case his knowledge became useful

Sparkler- A nine-year-old bronze half dragon who just wants to go home to her older brother. She was framed for a crime that she in no way could have committed. She is kept in a dark cell and is the favorite to be abused by the head guard. No knows her actual name because she rarely talks to anyone even when she is allowed.

Xnyxyh Halfheart – Channeling Chronurgy wizard without his spell book. He looks human and is locked up for various crimes. He will help anyone who can get him his spell book. However, if he gets it, he will finish becoming a lich. He does not care for anyone but himself.

Thornbull – an experimental warforged, who committed too many war crimes.

Thragg Jadewolf – half-orc spy. He looks like an ugly human. He is in prison for high treason. He infiltrated border settlements and opened the gates at night, sabotaged the defenses, etc., so the neighboring orc kingdom could conquer the settlements easily.

The masked man – this human wears a cursed mask, which he cannot take off. His crime: He is the elder brother of the current king.

The Wyrd Sisters – Three halfling sisters each identical except for different colored eyes, the Wyrd Sisters are prohibited from accessing the kitchen and mess halls, kept in solitary confinement from each other, and fed separately. This is due to their innate toxicity, their blood, saliva, and sweat producing an extremely toxic poison which when ingested, causes a terrifying and agonizing death in even small doses. They were arrested after their entire village was found rotting the next morning after drinking from the tainted well which they had poisoned. Rumors persist that their natural lethality came from a tradeoff with a powerful Demon.

Semaj Ironscreamer – An elderly Half-Orc Druid who has spent half his life in this cell. He was jailed after being involved in multiple eco-terrorist attacks on mining towns that had been dumping their industrial waste into the nearby rivers. Seen as a kindly grandfather figure by the other inmates and even some of the guards, Semaj is often the peacekeeper between those he can hear from his cell and dispenses wisdom to those who ask. Given the nature of his magic, Semaj is kept in an underground cell with no window and any visitors he receives will be checked for wooden objects and plant matter.

Azar – A former acolyte of the church who used his talents as a thief to steal back religious artifacts from wealthy aristocrats. Until one day he was set up by the Queen dowager to make it look like he was trying to assassinate her with the same knife she had killed her husband with. Is actually completely innocent of this particular crime, but with the weight of the crown bearing down on him his trial was anything but fair.

Vulmon Longroot – A 900-year-old High Elven Bard who was the very first prisoner ever put into this place. His crime? 800 years ago, he had been caught having an affair with all 11 princesses of the area and is actually the reason every member of the royal family has any access to magic.

Tybo the Mad Monk – An incredibly dangerous and violent martial artist who was known to wear the ears of his enemies that he killed in battle like a necklace. After a failed assassination attempt by one of his party members caused Tybo to go mad and kill his party, the Human Monk returned to his roots raiding ships along the coast before he was eventually captured and placed in prison.

Irving – he was just an ordinary peasant… until adventurers showed up in his life and destroyed it. After that he has dedicated his life to destroying them.

Dean Fisher – human. Scum landlord to good upstanding goblins. forgot to bribe a local official.

Greta Howitzer- A human horizon walker ranger who was once a famed demon hunter. But while hunting members of the cult of Baphomet, she lost her mind in Baphomet’s lair. She has the madness ‘The world is my hunting ground. Others are my prey.’ She now views all humanoids as demons and will go to any length to hunt them down. She was imprisoned after spending her money building a massive maze, kidnapping people, and hunting them down in the maze.

Dominic Halfcastle – Halfling, originally in jail for tax evasion, now known for being transferred due to the murder and consumption of multiple sentients, claims the ability to kill sentients with his mind, has displayed no actual psionic or magical power

Vestlev the Mad – War criminal of the highest order, he has been moved to a normal prison as a temporary holding place until a proper area is found. He looks old and disheveled but is a mastermind when it comes to the magical arts of evocation. From his cell can be heard incoherent babbling, but do not be fooled, he has escaped before.

Minkus the Feebleminded – Everyone knows it’s a mistake that he’s in the prison. He’s a real sweetheart if a bit soft in the head. Sometimes his cell glows at night though. Oh, and don’t let him tell you about his nightmares if he says you were in one…

Sir Jim Haggins – A true gentleman at heart, he wears his ragged suit proudly. He’s perfectly polite in every way. He doesn’t look kindly on the poor however, oh no. He detests the poor. So much so that his hunting lodge was full to the brim with human trophies when the authorities finally tracked down ‘the Slum-spree Killer’

Thiggund – This hairy brute is referred to by the only word he heads ever been known to utter. When the villagers of a small farming community found him by the road, surrounded by the brutalized remains of a merchant and his horses, Thiggund was arrested on the spot.

Unburned Barty – A slight man with an unassuming smile. He survived being burned at the stake without a single scar. He was moved into isolation after his cellmates kept killing themselves

Billy Pumpernickel – A gnome who is well known and loved in the prison, but actually committed a horrible crime. Everyone just goes with it, and other than the one horrible unforgivable thing, he’s just a pretty nice dude. Like ‘Hey, there’s Billy. Yeah, he mutilated a few kids, but only once. Nice guy.’ (Edit: This would just be hilarious when the players try to come to terms on how to treat him)

The Time Master – Real name, age, sex, & race unknown. (S)he exists 5 minutes in the future. The cell was locked, and an empty plate appeared with a note. The note had an explanation and instructions. ‘Please place a full plate inside the cell each time an empty plate is discovered. Failure to do so will create a paradox and subsequently release the prisoner.’

Elwe – An elf who walks through the corridors of the prison as if he was someone free, talks to the guards and other prisoners as they were friends. Says he is in prison due to stealing, is actually hiding from the king, who wants to kill him since he killed his father

Ozob – An old looking human with hair only on sides and a fire potion (Molotov) where his nose would be. Always angry. Whenever someone looks wrong at him, he says: you are so annoying I might sneeze.

Walks-Winding-Paths – A tabaxi shadow monk, she is kept in a fully lighted cell at all times, wearing glowing enchanted clothing. She is only fed by guards under a faerie fire spell, as otherwise they would cast a shadow which she could teleport into to escape. She will attempt to convince a party member to give her a cloak, bowl, or other object to block the light with.

Garth the Radiant – A paladin of the fallen angel Zariel. His guards are ordered to hit him every time they see him meditating or praying, as that would let him regain the spells, she grants him and summon his enchanted mace, Purity, to destroy his cell. If the party can bring him his weapon, or even give him ten minutes of peace, he will consider himself honor-bound to grant them a favor upon request. If their aims align with his, he might even fight alongside them.

Nibbles – Literally just a warlock cat.

Iydis Tyger-Eye – Former Guld Leader, she is high level Fighter and also a Were-Tiger. Killed the heads of other Were families, in an attempt to seize power and take control of the protection of the city, and its criminal underworld.

Rollins – Air School Elemental Wizard. Believes in Anarchy and Equality of all races. In jail for starting a revolution and killing the Queen.

Herman – Normal human who built Mythic Bracers of Shatter that are only attuned to him. Had used the Bracers to gain access and rob several small vaults. Then he was caught by an adventurer after going for heist to rob a merchant banker when he refused to harm others to escape with the goods. He refuses to teach/sell the knowledge of how to make the Bracers as he doesn’t want others to use it to harm someone.

Roscoe Tealeaf – A well-dressed halfling who smells of saffron. He brokers deals between prison factions. It’s no secret that he is trying to escape. He claims he was framed by a noble, or maybe arrested breaking into the noble’s vault. He’ll tell anyone who asks that the noble has a dangerous artifact. Roscoe is a lore bard that specializes in counter spell silence and general magic user shutdowns.

John ‘Musical Manipulator’ Green – Half-elf, in jail for making a whole court dance for hours on end to prove a philosophical point that the upper class will just do as they say to hold up appearances and are so comfortable in their wealth, they can watch it be taken away and redistributed.

Colin Green – human. John’s half-brother who supported him and helped with a second set up hands to pull off music. Tuomas Yurke – elf. the voice and magic behind all of this. Started to talk to John about these thoughts and with a few others began to flesh them out into a more concrete thought and into a sound. Loved by the low class, anticipated and loved by the upper class even though it is all a misunderstanding. The three of them are located at different corners and different levels of the prison so the music can’t come together and convince guards to open up cages. Mail comes from them from all over. 2 members of their group are still at large.

Vaelh’noo – Githyanki sorceress who once commanded a powerful fleet in the astral sea before she was captured in a botched raid. Her secret is that she allowed herself to be captured to escape the wrath of the lich queen, whom she plots to overthrow from the safety of her cell.

Quikiliar – A doppleganger (Rogue). Thrown into prison for impersonating a person of high authority, they’re known for frequently making their way into guard chambers by pretending to be one. They can get access to a lot of things if you ask for it, but almost always ask for some odd favor or trinket, usually personal, like a lock of hair or an image of someone loved.

Locke – Once a guard themselves, this warforged fighter was sent to jail after attacking someone due to a misinterpretation of their actions. Unfortunately, this was also another guard with good standing with the warden, who had them put in. They serve their time willingly but can be interrogated or otherwise convinced to disclose explicit info about the prison and its guard shifts and similar.

Breeze – An air genasi artificer, she was thrown into jail after selling several infused items for high prices and then the infusing a different item. Since then, she’s gotten in good favor with guards and other inmates by enchanting some magic items and plans to use these favors and connections to escape at some point.

Zaurok – A Goliath Barbarian, although he acts calm and meditates. Known for the rare outbursts, during which he flies into a rage after being provoked or possibly from being disturbed while meditating. The several escape attempts that’ve happened are from him simply breaking the jail bars. Since then, he’s been relocated to a cell made out of adamantine.

Slicer – Kenku cleric. Devoted to a god of trickery, they gained their name after a particular… Prank, on part of their god. Around the jail will often prank the various inmates but is also known to make distracting sounds at the guards at night. Likely to be able to convince with shiny objects to prank someone or create a distraction.

Color-of-Blood – An insane Tabaxi woman incarcerated for eviscerating several people. Can often be found singing quietly to herself songs usually about ‘meal preparation’. Is usually docile and doesn’t react to being talked to unless threatened which she may attack while loudly singing ’50 ways to skin a human.’

Reginald Mark – A mild mannered human male incarcerated for a chain of serial killings. He claims he’s possessed by a banshee, but no one believes him. His speech has a feminine undertone and his skin is cold to the touch. Those who threaten him are usually found in the morning choked to death with a horrifying look on their face.

Tee’vah – Tiefling rogue who doesn’t seem too upset to be there. If approached he will happily show off a copy of his wanted poster, listing crimes from arson to murder. Secretly a doppelgänger who is honestly just trying to provide for his family and have some fun. Can break out any time he wants.

The Dread Pirate Azuzula, Roger, and Primten – A Tiefling, an earth genasi, and an air genasi. Azuzula seems useless but the other two are competent sorcerers. Despite this they follow her words to the letter. In for piracy. Azuzula can’t spell and keeps ranting about her ship the Doom Squid. Will challenge people to fights.

Taryon Sandstone – A half-elf paladin who used to be a slave fighting in gladiator pits. After gaining his freedom, he vowed to fight for the freedom of other and became a powerful hero. After the tragic loss of a close friend, he went on an overzealous crusade against slavers, killing them and their family as well as anyone who had in any way helped them (ship captains, harbor employees, food/clothes/rope vendors, blacksmith, etc.)

Tilby Valenois – A gnome mage of sorts who has committed zero crimes besides somehow breaking into a maximum-security prison and… staying there? The security guards have tried to get him to leave numerous times but usually get charmed or subdued out of it magically. Nobody knows why the gnome wishes to be there, but he hasn’t been messing with the order of things much.

Adelai – A rather amicable young woman. Nobody knows for sure what she’s in for, but general consensus is that it involved a basilisk head and the water supply to a small town

Vass – A large orc man that was used as a phylactery for a lich. Vass has been hearing whispers of the lich in his mind and is slowly being possessed. He has started doing horrible things under the influence of the lich. Performing Magic’s that he has no right to know.

Endeer – A being that inflicts his victims with horrible nightmares in each of these nightmares a horrifying creature appears to the dreamer and offers them the opportunity to “Loose yourself from the chains of your labored slumber” if the dreamer accepts, they never sleep again as their mind descends in to horrible madness

Cultists of the Basilisk – These cultists are attempting to create the creature they worship a terrible all-knowing basilisk they know that they will be successful and that the basilisk will destroy anyone who knew about him and didn’t help create him so they only share their beliefs with those they deem helpful or worthy of death

Arnold Long – A half orc/elf, he looks like a giant of a human and seems pleasant to be around in a group of people. While it appears, he is a big stupid sweet teddy bear of a person, his record is full of brutal killings that may or may not have happened. The last killings were not too long ago after a prison gang isolated Arnold in the showers and bribed a guard to not interfere. Long story short, the gang WAS major player in the prison, now all of its muscle IS dead, and the guard went missing. Arnold is to be handled with care and kindness.

The ‘Statue of The Maiden’ – It looks like a statue of a naked elven woman that was bought by a merchant (deceased) from an artist (deceased) who sold it to a noble (deceased) for a gift to his wife (deceased) and children (deceased). All that is known is the statue moves when not observed and will eat and clean itself. It leaves flirtatious messages for the guards it likes and death threats to the guards it hates. The artist swore on their deathbed it was a mistake for them to create it but, this is the only place it has been stored where it does not kill thought it has maimed a few people who fail to respect it. Attempts to remove, destroy, or study it has been ‘unfruitful and unwise’.

Inspector Brundt – A beardless dwarf imprisoned for the crimes of tax evasion, swindling, theft, and gross debt. He knows how to get things and bribes the guards to get luxuries and messages through the prison walls.

Tur the Kobold – He seems stupid and harmless. Everyone assumes he’s just a patsy who took the fall for a bigger criminal. Occasionally, though, he lets something slip that only someone high-level in a criminal organization would know.

Axe Hands – A warforged barbarian who found great success as a military shock trooper, but also was involved in an incident where he dismembered a commanding officer. Sees prison as an ‘extended furlough” and is convinced he’ll be let out when the next war starts.

Clara – A human paladin. Recruited into the military, she was driven mad by the trauma of war and turned oathbreaker. Jailed for the same incident as Axe Hands, having used her healing abilities to keep their victim from bleeding out after being dismembered. Lives to see people suffer but remembers enough of her pre-oathbreaker life to maintain a kind, innocent facade when it suits her.

Harald Silverfinger – An elf wizard who sees humans the same way a scientist sees a bucket full of white rats; testing fodder. They’re close enough to elves to be useful for experimentation, but short-lived enough that killing them really isn’t a big deal. It’s rumored that the local guild is secretly helping him continue his work, using his fellow prisoners as test fodder.

Verdos – A dwarven female cleric. Believes she was morally just in murdering the children of a local village. Full of righteous anger. Judges everybody according to her own warped and insane moral code. Can often barely be understood. In maximum security for obvious reasons. Can offer a range of cleric services at prison prices.

Tabitha Binks – A Tabaxi Rogue. An orphan growing up on the coast, she quickly fell in with the Revelry pirates. Tabitha learned to use her claws as lockpicks and may teach other Tabaxi how to as well. She was caught at sea after ambushing a wealthy fur trader.

James the Changeling – A male changeling known for impersonating the guides and has so far escaped every prison he’s been in. He’s a new inmate already planning his escape.

??? – the cell appears empty, save for a stool. Could be they’re just using it for storage. But, then why does that stool make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?

Ood – A very old, frail and nearly paralyzed Illithid who sits still in solitary confinement, his blind eyes wide open, and only blinks or changes his position once or twice per year. Said to have messed something up when attempting to become an Alhoon. Nobody knows why he’s there, but he occasionally sends nearly unintelligible telepathic riddles to the other prisoners. Rumor has it he has invaded the minds of everyone in the prison and lives vicariously through their dreams at night.

[fallingoverharrypotter]

Torn a New One

This is based on the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt for pretend, and got very long. Heres the ao3 link :).

The shirt is supposed to make Harry look like that one Bratz doll meme; you know the one. 

Thanks for reading <3 <3

Harry is a stoic man. That’s what Hermione calls him.

He’s sitting on Ron’s plush carpeted floors in his shiny new flat. Ron himself is passed out on a couch that costs more galleons than a year of Hermione’s tuition, with Hermione herself teetering on the edge of both her couch and hers and Ron’s refusal to bring up that they’re still fucking on the side of their tumultuous breakup. She brings up Harry’s problems to distract herself, and Harry tells her not to bother. Harry also tells her that she and Ron should just own up to their idiocy and sort their crap out sooner rather than later, and then Hermione yells loud enough to wake Ron with: Harry James Potter, you’re a complete and utter hypocrite. Ron does wake up when their voices raise like this, and then cordons Hermione off to the main bedroom leaving Harry to pretend that he’ll floo home, before the three of them end up eating cereal whilst sitting at/on Ron’s granite countertops the next morning.

All three look a right picture. Hermione is staunchly refusing to acknowledge that she’s wearing a t-shirt of Ron’s – old Canon’s merch that she’s absolutely swimming in. Harry, in solidarity, is also wearing one of Ron’s shirts without pants – the newest Wheezes rollout collection, classic stylized lettering (Ron’s got this beautiful flat because every single Witch and Wizard between the ages of 14 and 37 owns Wheezes now). And Ron himself is shirtless and in nothing but underwear.

They’ve seen more of each other than is completely normal over the last 15 years, but they’re still indulgent enough not to bring up any of the shit they refuse to talk about. They need a balancing force, Harry often thinks, someone who is outrightly honest and refuses the stupid little games that the golden trio fall into to avoid talking about their true feelings. That’s what Harry thinks inside his head, but his body ends up groaning and bending forward so his forehead smacks the countertops none too gently. His consciousness sounds more and more like someone he refuses to think about whenever he’s been drinking. Merlin save him.

“Oi,” Ron admonishes without looking up from his bowl. He’s leaning atop the counter on forearms and staring into his cereal, swirling the spoon around the stodgy mess and eating no longer.

Harry grunts first, and then says “gonna sick up, Ronnykins?” and gets glared at by Hermione who is onto her third bowl of cereal at this point. Right. Can’t joke about Lavender either, apparently. That fling definitely didn’t help the dynamic, Harry reminds himself.

“Jus’ don’t wan’ you bruising my bench with your fat head.”

Harry kicks out at Ron with his closest foot and makes contact, gets an immediate groan for his efforts, before Ron’s pulling up from his slouch and getting Harry into a pretty tight headlock. Harry resorts to elbowing Ron in the gut over and over. Ron groans and releases, making a mad dash for the fancy powder room into which he projectiles.

Hermione, for all she looks dazed and noncommittal this early into a hangover, manages to give off an air of created aloofness about the violent noises coming from down the hall. Harry smirks at her, and gets his own kick in response that makes him exclaim “ow, fuck. You two are so bloody violent.”

Before she responds, there’s a tapping at the window. Owl. Hermione stares at Harry to let him know that there’s no way she’s moving from her lounging for the bloody post, so Harry straightens up to open the window for the tawny. Efficient things these post owls are this morning; just drops the paper on the countertop near Harry’s bowl before flying right out the window without even waiting for a treat.

Harry’s shaking his head to brush away the last fuzz of the evening with the assistance of the scent of fresh air. Hermione gasps out loud. That makes Harry turn around quick enough for whiplash, and then he wishes fervently for death by sustained head trauma when the figure on the front of the paper, unfurled and sepia, winks right at him.

“Fuck,” Harry says. His gut churns, and then he’s running down the hall, past the occupied powder room to Ron’s master bath, and vomits up his guts.

 ***

Ron’s back in the kitchen by the time that Harry stumbles back in. Three strong cups of tea are quick-brewing under Hermione’s wand, even though both her and Ron’s attention is maintained by the Prophet’s front page. Because that is Draco Malfoy wearing a Wheezes “I shagged Harry Potter and all I got was this stupid shirt” collectable.

“It’s ironic!” Ron and George had insisted on its’ inception 4 years back. Only 100 had been made, a necessity: scarcity is key. They resell for a lot of money these days. Harry would rather die than see another in person. His face, a terrible photo of him caught by photographers during a pretty brutal night out, is plastered right on the middle along with stylized fireworks that go off every couple of minutes. He’d been convinced into making them, to try and control the narrative or whatever bullshit the Weasley’s had spouted just a couple of days beforehand when Harry had started stomping around the burrow or the floor of the joke shop or Hermione and Ron’s old shoebox apartment in anguish. It worked, he guesses, and he doesn’t see many of them anymore, as they’re kept in the strongest of imperturbable charms and modified protegos by anyone lucky enough to get one. But this one. This one he didn’t know about.

Hermione’s been muttering to herself as she read the accompanying story, when her voice perks up. “Merlin, listen to this: ‘this intrepid reporter asked what I’m certain all our readership will be most curious to uncover now that we are sitting down with the one and only Draco Malfoy. When we had sat down in Mr. Malfoy’s beautifully appointed drawing room, I too was especially shocked at his choice of attire,’” Hermione pauses here to roll her eyes and mutter “oh here we go,” before continuing in a higher and haughtier voice. “‘We all know the poise that Mr. Malfoy holds, one of Wizarding Britain’s most darling Stars, his performance in Wizarding Wireless serials having taken our world by storm the past 6 years. I must myself mention the serialisation of the modern take on the Wizarding classic story of Millicent Mimbletonia’s Marvelous Manor; captured this reporter’s heart, it did.’ What a load of absolute nonsense.”

“Oh, come on, Herm,” Ron says and knocks into her arm to get her to continue the story.

“Fine, but this is all absolute tripe. What was Draco thinking! Okay. Blah blah blah, you can’t believe how long this person goes on about Draco’s drawing room, blah. Okay here. ‘On questioning Mr. Malfoy’s choice to wear the now famously collectible Wheezes’ Harry Potter shirt, the gentleman seems to look slightly pensive.’

“‘‘Monsieur,’ our Star addresses me, ‘when you have been in the business of telling stories for as long as I, you start to have a great fondness for truth. I must now admit to you, and all of your lovely readers, that I bought this shirt on release and whilst under Polyjuice’. Now readers, you must bear with Mr. Malfoy here. Yours truly was very shocked-’ Good God, can this man obfuscate. Okay, then Draco says, ‘‘I’ve kept my ownership of such an item close to my chest, and away from my closest relationships. I have found over the years that true mutual affection, friendship, and love, have foundations built on beds of uncertainty and trust simultaneously, and thus I was afraid to expose myself.’ I but in here and ask what we must all be thinking at this admission: is he such a big fan of our Saviour that he is ashamed? But Mr. Malfoy continues: ‘No, monsieur. In all honesty, I am the man’s biggest critic.’’” Harry ducks his head, his hands shaking as he reaches for the now over-brewed tea.

Hermione looks up at Harry and Ron with wide eyes. Ron looks back at her wide eyed too, glancing small looks at Harry every now and again when he finds something particularly salacious, but he says nothing. Harry is hiding his trembling hands and trembling mouth behind a blisteringly hot cup of tea. She receives no objections, and continues. “‘‘I am livid that he’s been out of the public eye for so long regardless of his exceptional ability to bring about change in those around him; Potter has worked the same archival job in the Ministry for 5 years, with no end in sight, I fear. He refuses to allow those outside of his closest friends and family to know him in any sense, and I would argue that this is truly detrimental to his relationship with the Wizarding community. Although I disagree with the man on many things, I will be the first to say here and now that if any person deserves privacy, it is him. But the relationships we build with those we love-’’” and Harry snatches the paper out of Hermione’s hands.

“Harry,” Ron starts, reaching out a hand and grasping his upper arm. Hermione too has hopped down off the counter and is crowding Harry’s other side. He wants to shake them off, but he can’t. He can’t stop looking at the paper in his hands with Draco’s figure. Draco’s white blond head of hair turned beige on paper, his eyes sharp and flirty to readers, his hands restlessly gripping at his shirt. The shirt with Harry’s face.

Harry is a stoic man. Hermione tells him that exactly, Ron tells him that adjacently, and Draco. Draco has said the same thing in so many ways and at so many times that Harry has had it drilled into his head. His eyes are watering now, a little. And he can’t read much more of the article, but he doesn’t really need to. Because Draco will skate around enough of his personal life that it seems as though he’s come clean about something when he’s actually just marketing his next serial; it’s what he does.

This time, though, he’s wearing one of those terrible shirts that almost single-handedly sparked the Wheezes fashion line and bought Ron this apartment, and he’s saying things here that Harry knows are true. Knows are directed right at Harry. Knows because a week ago Harry had walked right out of Draco’s “well-appointed” drawing room, slamming the door and not answering the following owls. Harry hasn’t slept at his own sparse flat for a week. He’s spent time at Ron’s, spent time at Hermione’s, spent time at the Burrow. He’s even spent time in the dark halls of Grimmauld, which he hasn’t wanted to touch for years, no matter how many people around him shared their opinions on it being the perfect. Home. One day.

They’re standing there, the three of them, when a knock sounds on Ron’s front door. Harry freezes, but Ron staggers out into the hallway, still in nothing but underwear.

“Sweet Merlin, Weasley, could you put on some bloody pants? You do know it’s ten o’clock?” Says the visitor, and Harry just lets his back go limp, setting out to truly bruise Ron’s beautiful granite countertops with his forehead once again. He can hear Ron sarcastically mumble something along the lines of ‘yes Malfoy, of course you can come in’. Hermione grips his arm slightly in sympathy, but turns to face the entrance to the kitchen anyway. Like a traitor.

“Hermione, lovely as always. I see the three of you are in similar states of distressed undress this morning. Have you finally succumbed to your polyamorous destiny?”

“Nice to see you too, Draco. Lovely article.”

“Thank you. Do you like the shirt, too? Catches a sweet mint in resale these days.”

“You don’t say…”

“Yes, yes. Now, Harry, please pick yourself up off of the place we civilised people prepare our food.”

Harry groans into the cool surface, but can’t stop himself from responding. It’s a natural reaction to the bullshit that comes out of Draco’s mouth most times. “If you’ve ever made a meal by yourself in your life, I’ll eat the countertop.”

“Harry,” his voice is menacing, and his footsteps are getting closer, “I’m not civilised.” And at that Draco grabs Harry by the shoulder and turns up around and back up against the counter top with not a small amount of force.

Harry’s reply comes out breathless from the impact. “You said ‘we’.”

“It was a universal ‘we’.” Draco says this through gritted teeth. His blond eyebrows are sitting right on top of his grey eyes and they scream murder louder than they’ve ever done before, which is saying something since Draco was once a Death Eater, no matter what the admiring general Wizarding public would like to remember.  

Harry doesn’t have a retort prepared, per se. It would be a more concise comment on how Draco hadn’t taken a single English language course his entire life, and what would he know about the universal ‘we’, but Harry meets Draco’s eyes and he’s a bit lost. A week of blanket non-communication. A bit extreme. Not gone longer than a couple of days without talking for years, have they.

“Cuppa, Draco?” That’s from Ron.

“Yes. Two sugars. Level.”

Ron scoffs, but Draco beats him to it. “Weasley it’s two-level sugars, please, for once, reorient your sense of balance before you spill the entire sugar pot into the cup.”

“Just don’t give him any sugar, Ron. He’s obviously already mental, we don’t want him to go into cardiac arrest.” This from Hermione.

“Uh-”

Draco scoffs before Ron can respond. “Settle down Granger. I’m not going to pretend to like black tea for some sense of superiority like some of us.”

“It’s better for your-”

“You know what’s good for your health?” Draco all but yells and spins around to face Ron and Hermione. Ron, still next to naked, and Hermione drowning in Ron’s clothes. She’s back to sitting on the counter, Ron leaning back next to her. They look like they’ve looked for the past 10 years – drawn to each other, allies, et cetera. Draco huffs. “What’s good for your health is you two sitting down and talking about your absolutely bloody insane coupling. What’s good for your health is not getting blackout drunk every Friday night and ending up sleeping with each other, and then not talking about it, until the next week when you can do it again.”

Ron and Hermione are shifting where they sit, Hermione, looking as though she’s getting herself ready to argue back, and Ron in a more protected position behind his ex-girlfriend. Harry feels a little sorry for them, getting the third degree from Draco when he looks as unhinged as he does now. The Harry on his chest, a mess when the photo was taken, is now looking at them disappointedly like he’s on Draco’s side. Like a magical recreation of a Harry who was in quite an intense meltdown at the time has any right to be “on Draco’s side” about any issues of wellbeing.

Hermione does get the strength to pipe up. “Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy.” But that’s all she can get out. Harry’s pretty sure she’s stumped. Doesn’t have an argument. Draco, Harry knows, has refused to get involved in this situation. Has watched from the side-lines and stewed. Harry’s been all for letting the two of them work their shit out in their own time, but he’s a stoic man, what does he know about all that?

“Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy,” is Draco’s retort, mocking back in a high-pitched squeak that Harry winces at. Hermione was about to hop off the counter, he could see, but Ron’s sudden arm around her waist kept her down. “You two just have to talk about it. So what if Hermione slept with Lavender? You guys weren’t together at the time!”

Hermione splutters, eyes wide, all thoughts of advancing physically on Draco gone. Ron sat eyes wide too, flicking between Draco and Hermione as if waiting for more.

“Wait-” he starts.

Hermione wails “Ron I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. It was such a bad thing to do-”

“No wait! You’ve been acting weird because of that?” And Ron looks incredulously at Harry. Harry sends him an incredulous look back, equally as surprised that Draco hit the nail on the head.

“What! You knew?” Hermione is still wailing.

Ron turns fully to face her and wails himself: “Of course I knew! How could I not know! Harry told me! Draco told me! Lavender told me! Hell, a month ago you got so drunk you told me.”

Hermione’s eyes are so wide that Harry’s afraid she’s going to start crying, and he grabs Draco’s arm in shock. Draco tenses all of a sudden and then Harry consciously remembers why he’s not doing that and shrinks back again. Ron and Hermione aren’t really focusing on anything but themselves now, so they don’t notice how Draco turns slowly back to face Harry, backed against the kitchen’s island like he has been since Draco arrived.

“And you, Harry Potter.” Draco pauses, and Harry has time to do a quick pass over. Draco on the front page of the Daily Prophet and Draco in the middle of Ron’s stylish London flat are two very different Draco’s. Quiet, pensive, charming and loveable Draco in the papers. Thoughtful. Friendly. A bloody myth.

This Draco. Angry, flustered, dishevelled, loud. This is the same Draco who, when Harry slipped up the other week – the week when everything changed – went red, went silent, went unresponsive in so many ways. Harry, fresh off the first love confession he’d ever given, so incredibly off the cuff that it had shocked him and scared him, had had to storm out of the apartment, slam the doors behind him, and apparate away to his own flat he barely spends any time in.

He’d slipped up. They’d never even suggested anything romantic between the two of them. They’d been close for a long time at this point and. Feelings. His feelings. They were supposed to be unspoken. He’d been nursing the growing beast of his feelings behind his stupid chest, which was okay as long as they were unspoken. Pretending every day that they weren’t eating at him alive.

Eating at him when he woke up in Draco’s spare room on more mornings than he’d liked to count, early enough before work that they could sit for breakfasts in Draco’s kitchen. And then Harry’s co-workers at the Ministry archives asking him questions about Draco’s new shows or his schedule or his favourite foods. Draco and Harry having dinner with Ron and Hermione at hole in the wall restaurants in the muggle world. Birthdays together; dinners at Draco’s or Ron’s nicer flats; bickering over anything and everything they could get their minds on.

“You hate my job.”

Harry’s eyes bulge open. Did he mean to say that? Sweet Merlin. It was definitely him, and now Draco is staring at him in confused consternation, as if he has to come to terms now that Harry’s gone insane.

Harry doubles down, though. Trusts his subconscious decisions. “Yeah, you hate my job!” he repeats.

“Are,” Draco starts, slowly, “you kidding me.”

He could respond, but Harry just shakes his head instead.

Harry’s thought Draco’s been properly angry this whole time. He was wrong. “I hate your job? Who doesn’t hate your job!” Draco’s arms reach out and grab tightly around Harry’s upper arms. Harry’s not above flexing, just a little. He tells himself it’s to test the grip, but honestly, he’s hoping to distract Draco from the rage.

“It’s not that bad!” Harry repeats, and Draco groans loudly.

“Not that bad? Are you trying to give me a stress induced ulcer?”

“What do you know about stress induced ulcers?” comes a faint response from Hermione.

Draco turns his head, hands still tight around Harry’s biceps, and says “don’t you two have make-up sex to attend to?”

Harry responds. “Ron’s sick.”

Draco glares back at Harry for a second, and then turns back to where Ron and Hermione haven’t moved. “Get out, you’re distracting him from the fight.”

“We’re the emotional support,” and “lame fight” come respectively from Hermione and Ron.

“Oh, that’s rich!” Draco yells in their direction, but Harry’s sure that he’s ignoring Ron’s comment. “Emotional support! You two have let this wanker,” a thumb thrown at Harry from over Draco’s shoulder, “probably crash on your couches rather than forcing him to face me. You’re all as bad as each other.”

“Draco,” Harry feels he has to say, and draws Draco’s attention from his two best friends who definitely have been letting him crash on their couches and had not once tried to force Harry to face his problems. He loves them a hell of a lot.

“Don’t you try to lessen this, Harry Potter.” Harry’s been on the receiving edge of worse glares from Draco, so this one isn’t that bad. Harry’s actually feeling a lot better now that Draco is in the same room as him. Feels his terrible, traitorous heart almost relax. “I’m sick of you three. You’re the worst bloody enablers for each other.”

Harry scoffs. Sure, they’d never force him to do something he didn’t want to, but it’s not like they agree with his decisions all the time.

Draco hears the scoff of course, and gives up on trying to chase the others out of the kitchen. He turns around towards the entrance, faces away from all of them and talks to himself at top volume. “This is what my life has become. The sole source of constructive criticism for the bloody Golden Trio.”

Ron snorts to cover up a laugh.

“I survive working for a fascist dictator, successfully rebuild my image, forge a new path for myself in the world, but I’m here. An overworked, under-rewarded, glorified therapist!”  

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchange glances. The other two look at Harry in commiseration, but Harry is starting to think that Draco has a bit of a point when he realises that Ron’s arm is still around Hermione’s waist who is leaning right into his side.

“Okay.” Draco takes a deep breath and turns around to face Harry. “Since they’re not leaving, you all get to hear this.” He steps closer. “I hate your job. I hate your flat. I hate that you won’t face up to hard things, and I refuse to be okay with any of that.”

Harry swallows hard.

“People are letting you get away with anything at the moment, and when you told me you loved me, I got scared. Because I thought that I’d become one of those people to you too.”

“That’s not-”

“No.” Draco stops Harry for butting in. “No. We’re not pretending any longer. I love you-” thump goes Harry’s heart in his chest, eyes bulging and smile unable to be stopped “-but sometimes I seriously don’t like you.”

Harry’s smile does dim at that, but only slightly.

Draco looks away at last, his hands on his hips, and starts pacing. “I couldn’t believe-” sharp glance at Harry through the pacing, “-you just left after you said that. I couldn’t believe you’d actually not answer my owls. You’re an absolute coward sometimes.”

“You didn’t say anything…” Harry mumbles.

“Oh,” Draco responds with an eyeroll, still pacing, “so you get to freak out for a week, but I’m not allowed longer than a couple of minutes to compose myself?”

Harry ducks his eyes, ashamed.

Draco hmphs, and pauses in his pacing to look down his nose at Harry. “That’s right. You should feel bad.”

Shirt-Harry shakes his head at real-Har- “God Draco, take the shirt off!”

“What?” Draco is shocked into pausing his restless movement. “Take my shirt off? You haven’t even apologised and want to get me half naked like the rest of you? I think not!”

“That’s not- ugh, forget this.” Harry reaches forward and grabs Draco mid-pace. “Draco.” Deep breath. Harry meets Draco’s eyes. Draco looks like he’s been through his paces. He doesn’t even look angry anymore, he just looks like the culmination of a week of stress. Ron and Hermione are eating dry cereal right out of the box from their perch as they watch, and they both give Harry nods and a thumbs up in encouragement when his eyes stray to them.

He’s a stoic man: Draco and Hermione are right. He hasn’t had to be brave in a long while. This is a moment that’s worth it though, even if he has to fake it at first.

“I’m sorry.” He has to pause at that, because he can feel the emotions bubbling up a bit too high. He takes a deep breath, and makes sure that Draco’s eyes don’t stray. “You’re… you’re right. About a lot of that-”

Draco buts in with “I’m right about all of it, actua-”

“Shut up, do you want me to get this out?”

Draco concedes.

Harry takes another breath, but the nerves have disappeared in the face of Draco’s unfiltered verve. “I shouldn’t have left. I was-”

“A coward.”

“Draco.”

“…sorry.”

“I was. I was a coward. I was scared. You didn’t respond, which never happens. You’re so good with your words.” He has to take a minute to collect his thoughts, but finds the right thread. “I love you, and have done for a while. I ran because I kind of didn’t mean to say it then. We were already fighting about something, and it just came out, which wasn’t right, and sometimes I’m so afraid that things will change, because you’re my best friend-” “Hey!” “-my best friend and I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You should have said that then.”

Harry closes his eyes. God, feelings are so bloody hard. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

“Oh well, as long as you know.”

“Draco. Shut up.” He swallows. “I like my job.”

“No, you don’t. You come home-” a sharp breath “-you come to mine, I mean. You come to mine after work and you can’t stop complaining. We like our jobs. I’m sure when Hermione finishes her ChP and becomes the Minister she’ll love her job too.” (“It’s a PhD, Draco, I’ve told you a million times.” “Maybe another time, Herm.”)

Harry has to breath deeper, because his blood is pumping a bit too fast in his ears. He drops his hands from Draco and takes a couple of steps back. A retreat. “I think,” and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can force the words out of his throat. He looks up and meets all of their eyes. “I don’t think I can do important things anymore. I. I don’t want to- I.”

“Merlin sakes, Harry.” Draco says. “I think it may be time we force you into therapy.” And Draco just looks impatient. “You can’t keep pretending it’s not a problem, and we can’t keep letting you!”

Harry. Harry nods. He thinks he nods. It’s what he wants to do, but he’s not really looking at anyone anymore, eyes to the ground, heart a bit too fast in his chest for comfort. He wishes that he was still eating soggy cereal in the kitchen before the post arrived this morning. He’s a stoic coward.

Draco seems to take a deep breath, and then he turns around to face the others. “Okay, get up. I’m sick of standing in Weasley’s kitchen.”

Harry takes a pause and looks at Draco’s face. He’s perfectly serious, and so is the Harry on his shirt.  Harry’s heart is still racing, but Draco just looks resigned and present. He can’t help himself from smiling a little when his eyes catch on Draco’s. He gets a pretty severe glare in response, before Draco just walks right out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry follows, and hears the small grunt from Hermione hitting the ground behind him. Two sets of feet follow his own.

“Don’t forget my tea, Weasley!”

Ron scoffs, but still walks back into the kitchen to make a tea he’d promised about 20 minutes earlier.

Harry sits down on the floor in the same place he sat last night. Draco’s chosen the armchair near the fire; where he usually sits. Hermione stomps over to take the seat on the couch closest to the armchair, and Ron can be heard pottering around the kitchen.

“PhD.”

Draco looks to Hermione with a frown. “What?”

Hermione looks haughty yet contrite. Like she actually can’t help herself from making sure that Draco knows he was wrong, and feels a little bit sorry about it. “It’s a PhD, not a ChP or whatever you called it.”

“Honestly Granger, what does it matter?”

A harrumph from Hermione as she settles back into Ron’s expensive couch cushions. “It’s a very important thing.”

Harry chucks her a grin, and she smiles back proudly.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Why do you all insist on patting yourselves on the back constantly. You don’t see me singing my own praises.”

Ron let’s out a violent laugh from the kitchen, and Draco flushes a little bit, his eyes flicking to Harry who grins at him too.

Mugs float out from the kitchen, Ron trailing behind. Harry grabs his out of the air and cherishes the sent of the strong tea. He can’t help but laugh when Hermione grimaces at the taste of her milkless cup, and Draco looks at her as if he’s won something.

Harry’s won something. He’s won Draco sitting here in Ron’s expensive apartment, Draco rolling his eyes when Hermione chides him about his too sweet tea, then Draco chiding Ron when he argues that Ron made it too sweet anyway, and that if he has to have teeth work done it’ll be Ron’s fault.

“You can make your own tea, you know, you’re not that famous.”

“Actually, Weasley, I’m more famous than all three of you, currently. The only thing getting you through is dumb luck and a gullible consumer base. I get by on pure talent.”

“Sure, Draco.”

“Also, I expect thanks when Wheezes gets the significant boost in sales it’s sure to this week, what with the Prophet this morning.”

“Sure, Draco.”

Harry smiles. His arse will probably start hurting before his mug is drained, and the sounds of arguing will get tiring soon after that. He’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt a little. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Therapy. I’ll do it.”

Ron and Hermione smile at him like they knew it was coming all along, pressed up against each other on the expensive couches. Draco just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for who knows what. Probably an oral manifesto of Harry’s recognised faults and his plans to change them. Harry just smiles right back at Draco, wide and unashamed. Draco shakes his head a little bit, lips pulling up too.

Harry’s worried that if Draco keeps looking at him at all that he’ll have to walk over there and kiss him without warning. He picks his mug up and keeps sipping though, pretends he doesn’t absolutely need to do just that. Because there’s going to be time. Lots of it.

His stoicism has its uses sometimes, maybe.

[vanillann]

ew, it’s the government (spencer reid x acab!reader)

warning: swearing, mentions of crime and sex, enemies to lovers, and mentions of vomit

word count: 1.0k

ew, it’s the government masterlist

chapter 1: mr. doctor and mr. ravioli

“That was the worst date I’ve been on.”

I could hear the exhausted tone of Jerick, the sound of his car staring in the background was enough to make me laugh.

“What happened?”

“He told me he sells feet pic.”

The chuckles were falling past my lips faster than I could stop.

“People actually do that?”

Jerick laughs could be heard on the other line of the call. Suddenly a loud knocking ran through my apartment.

“FBI.”

“Oh god Jerick, those kids down the hall are pranking me again,” I said as I picked myself from my couch and dragged my feet to the door.

“Oh kick their ass.”

“Oh trust me I will-“

My words were cut off as I opened my door and two men stood in front of my door.

Both drew out their badges, their actual real FBI badges.

“Jerick, I gotta go, the FBI is at my door.”

“No I wanna-“

I hung up the call, watching the door men that stood before me.

One was older, maybe 60’s and had both his hands in his back pocket.

The other was younger, a lot younger, and rubbed a nervous hand up the back of his neck.

“What do you need?”

I cross my arms across my chest, the two men watching me closely as I make no move to let them enter.

“Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?”

The older man, looking at me. He had a decent accent but I couldn’t place where it could be from.

“Speaking.”

Both men looked at each other, expressions that I couldn’t read.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to tell me why you bothered me in the first place?”

Both men slowly looked back at me, annoyance written on both their faces.

The young boy spoke up this time.

“We’ll need you to come back to Quantico with us.”

I rolled my eyes, going to shut my door and walk back into my apartment.

I didn’t look back until I heard a loud thump, a boot stood in the way of closing the door.

The boot pushed the door back open, both men walking into the living room like I invited them in.

Arrogant assholes.

“My mom told me not to get in the car with strangers.”

“We’ll we’re the FBI.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the two men finally.

“Even worse.”

I walked further into my apartment, falling back onto my couch and grabbing the remote.

“Look, you might be in danger,” the older man spoke.

“Let us help, I’m SSA Rossi and this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Oh a doctor, wanna check my temperature?”

I jumped up from my couch, standing in front of him and pushed my lip out slightly.

Dr. Reid jumped back, a rosy blush crossing his cheek as he shook his head quickly at me.

“I-I’m not that type of doctor, I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

I looked the kid up and down, he couldn’t be much older than me and I only had a Masters in Political Science.

I rolled my eyes, falling back onto the couch behind me and looking up at the two men.

“It’s cute you think I was serious.”

Agent Reid started coughing, looking around the room while the blush on his cheeks got redder.

“You good kid?”

The older man patted him on the back, Mr. Ravioli or whatever his name was.

“Look I know why you are here, there is a serial killer and I happen to know the victims but this is a small town, everyone knows everyone,” I shrugged my shoulders, picking up the remote and turning the tv on.

The blonde news lady from earlier popped up, a grocery store worker face I remember seeing a few times ID photo was bright on the tv.

“George Campbell was found dead this morning in a park near the Rose Lux apartment complex.”

Okay, so now body’s were being dropped off at the park near my apartment, maybe the FBI is on to something.

I must be sick, I just said the FBI might be right.

“Oh-“ I didn’t think again as I stood up from the couch, running to the bathroom.

The door flew open, the toilet sat perfectly in line for me to fall to the floor.

I felt more bile come up before a hand moved to my shoulder blades.

I looked over my shoulder to his Mr. Doctor stands with a sad smile rubbing amal circles on my back. I jerked my body away, gave him a nasty look as more vomit fell from my mouth.

After the last bit, I grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned my mouth, standing up to see both FBI agent’s now standing in the doorway for my bathroom.

“I think we both know it's time for you to come with us,” Agent Ravioli spoke.

God I really need to figure out his real name.

“Just cause I’m coming with you doesn’t mean anything.”

I pointed a finger between them both, pushing through them and walking to my room.

I grabbed my watch and made sure my phone was in my back pocket, walking back into the living room.

Both men looked around the room, wandering eyes as they took in their surroundings.

“Can we please hurry this up.”

Both men stopped looking around the room, quickly walking out the room. I grabbed my keys and locked the door on the way out.

“This will be a fun ride,” I heard the younger man whisper to himself.

“You have no idea.”

I turned back around, watching both men as they walked to the elevator. I picked my step up, keeping an easy pace with the two men.

I watched Mr. Ravioli hit the first floor button, rocking on his fancy booted heels.

“I hate this.”

“Hate what?”

“I’m helping the system that I hate with every nerve in my body, I hate your bastardized system that you think is helping people but is only helping yourself.”

Neither men spoke, watching the elevator doors open and walking in simply.

“Well aren't you a ray of sunshine.”

“Yeah, get too close and I’ll burn your face off.”

prologue

cm tag list:

@itsarayofsunshine

ew, it’s the government tag list:

@thatsonezesty13 @spencerslatte @pianofirepirate

@ellvswriting @peterspickledpepper @erinxneil @friendlyweirdobaby @thatsastro

[weird-song-bracket]

Round 1 Side B

In Corpore Sano: In Corpore Sano was the Serbian Eurovision entry in 2022. I think that when a lot of people think of Eurovision, they think of key changes and big pop songs about love, so a song like this is a huge song of whiplash. It's essentially a critique of the Serbian healthcare system, but also - and more importantly - about peoples' obsession with health. It's about how people become so, so obsessed with their body and having a healthy body - diets, exercise, you know - that they become depressed and obsessive. The song ends by saying: "Corpus je sanum i šta ćemo sad? Mens infirma in corpore sano Animus tristis in corpore sano Mens desperata in corpore sano Mens conterrita in corpore sano I šta ćemo sad?" Which translates to "The body is healthy, so what do we do now? A sick mind in a healthy body A sad soul in a healthy body A desperate mind in a healthy body A frightened mind in a healthy body So what do we do now?" The performance used religious imagery, and people have talked about how it also shows that mental health problems are often dismissed in parts of Serbia and are said to be cured with religion, but for the most part, it's about the focus on having a healthy body. But in terms of the actual music? It's weird as fuck as well. I think it's near to impossible to place this song in a standard genre. Google told me the genres are Indian Film Pop and Classical? Wikipedia told me it's avante-pop and art pop which is probably what I would have described it as, but my god it's one of the weirdest and most brilliant songs ever.

Monsieur: Song is from the POV of a Butler (or some other domestic servant). He describes his master as someone respected by neighbors, liked by animals, who cheers up a crying child and helps a blind man crossing a street. This master tends to roses, and sometimes, he kills people. This butler narrator is working for a serial killer. He seems totally fine with cleaning up crime scenes and other related duties. He also sounds pretty respectful of the "Monsieur" he's working for. At the end of the song, the "Monsieur" gets hanged and the narrator, now jobless, asks the judge who condemned his late master to hire him as a servant.

songs under the cut