#i am coffee and eater and nothing else

[slitheringghost]

Voldemort Fic Recs, Part 2

Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

colours by @allthepeculiarthings (900 words, T)

Rec: A beautiful Tom character study, and I love the detail of Merope's green shawl.

It was Mrs Cole, herself only a young girl at the time, who had thought to take his mother’s shawl from around her shoulders, and bundle him in it instead. His mother, after all, would have had no use for it, resting under a few feet of soft earth. It was a frayed and ragged thing, and the green dye of the crocheted wool faded further and further into the dangerous territory of grey each year, but Tom clung to it nevertheless. His shawl, his name, and his life – he clung onto all he had inherited from his mother like a starved dog guarding its last meal.

time turns and tells them by @slashmarks (Tom & Abraxas, 1.4k, T)

Rec: The most fascinating version of how the Death Eater cult started - from a Tom that never really planned on it or on becoming Voldemort.

Hogwarts uniforms were a great class leveler as long as you were a student. Afterward, of course, the Wizarding World sorted most of the upstarts straight back out. Tom hadn’t needed to be sorted, being the best and brightest, except that he would have gone out buggering a lethifold before he resigned himself to pushing papers at a Ministry desk to buy first generation class privilege without even the paltry efficiency of doing it with a fountain pen instead of a quill. Magic in Britain, he had long ago concluded, was wasted on the magical. They had no imaginations at all. - Abraxas was the only one of his friends he’d let keep calling him Tom at school, less as a sign of intimacy and more because ‘Voldemort’ was terminally wasted on him. Abraxas’s great gift for amoral calculation was marred only by a dire lack of romance in his soul. But he was also the only friend Tom still saw regularly, have retired the Voldemort character when he no longer needed to keep a dorm full of pureblood morons in line.

a learning experience by @laeveteinn (Tom/Hepzibah, 9k, T)

Rec: I love Tom's voice and characterization in this, with an unexpected twist on Hepzibah Smith.

“Tom, my boy,” Slughorn exclaims, all well-meaning, smothering concern, “you can’t work at Borgin and Burkes!” This, naturally, is the moment Tom decides he will.  (He learns that his disdain for boundaries extends far past the realm of magic.)

the tiger’s lady by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 4.8k, T)

Rec: A Voldemort tells Bellatrix about Merope fic. The portrayal of cyclical violence will make you ache, with Bellamort playing out Merope's past. I requested this; you can request fic from slashmarks in return for a pro-choice donation here.

“My Bella," he said, softly and directly into the back of her neck. She had missed this, or else it had come suddenly, this switch into the most dangerous of his moods. "You lie very well and very often, do you not?" She didn't know what to say, but the words came out on their own, responding to a lifetime of instincts built for just this sort of situation – when saying the wrong thing was better than saying nothing at all. "My lord knows I am a Black... And generally appreciates it." She felt him tense behind her, and for a moment she expected him to fling her into the hot stove, but instead he moved back, and he was laughing – a real, sincere laugh, a sign of genuine relaxation, and her shoulders also relaxed

The Pleiades by @saintsenara (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2.8k, T)

Rec: Beautifully written, another version of Bellatrix and her finding strength in Merope that makes me ache.

But she could still see, as she hugged herself for warmth, the seven sisters engaged in their celestial Quidditch match. She muttered their names each night like a prayer. Alcyone Maia Sterope Taygeta Celaeno Electra Merope - ‘Do you like Quidditch?’ she asked the Dark Lord, as she levitated a coffee tray into the study. He didn’t look up from the wanted posters of himself he was inspecting at Mr Lestrange’s desk. ‘No.’ This didn’t surprise her. For all his magic, so strong that it seemed to roll off him like the waves which could be heard from the open window, there was a brittleness about the Dark Lord which made it unlikely that anyone would describe him as sporty. A healthy whack from a bludger would probably snap him clean in two.

Still Water by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 2.2k, M)

Rec: A post-Azkaban Bellatrix fic with an equally heartwarming Belladolphus and Bellamort.

"Show me," she said. Just that. He frowned for a moment, but then, he nodded, and then images and impressions exploded in her mind. His near-annihilation, and the struggle that followed. His boundless, relentless will to live, to find a way. To find a way back. Years alone with his own mind, with no other input to sustain him. He'd reflected and re-reflected on himself, his life, his nature, until it was like eating himself alive. And then, finally, rebuilding himself, cell upon cell, bone upon bone, skin upon muscle. To her, his body before her seemed like a work of art, the work of a great creator. That he was still himself seemed a miracle.

stray shard of soul by Laeveteinn (Tom & Delphini, 100 words, T)

Rec: An excellent Dadmort mini fic.

He hates this child’s screaming. It jangles long-numb nerves, and he considers igniting her crib. (Old habit.) But when he considers another harming her, some faceless enemy, he burns. He’d incinerate them. Next, the world.

[the-silver-chronicles]

Siblings Q&A | Silva & Elsa Omar ONESHOT

Tagged by @raresbaby and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @voidika @icecutioner @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @strafethesesinners @rhettsabbott @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries and @nightwingshero + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

Hey guys, SimpleGenius here! Decided to turn this short Q&A into a legitimate Oneshot for The Silver Chronicles, involving two OCs of mine; Silva and her younger half-sister, Elsa, set in a time in Hope County where Silva had no knowledge of Eden's Gate and the Omar's experienced a time of normalcy. There should be nothing but fluff, yes-siree. Oneshot below the cut:

The buzz of the worn-out camcorder complimented the numbing visuals of the frozen static, but swiftly the unused device booted up.

The specter on the screen was both haunting and ethereal, a memory from a time so much simpler. A normality so sparse in time.

With her trusty camcorder in hand, Elsa admired herself in the mirror. Hair twisted in many small blonde braids, wearing a white sundress laced with magenta patterns that looked like flowers.

The camcorder fizzled, the screen going blank for a moment. She gave it a good whack, faded red paint dusting her black gloves, and the camcorder proceeded to work like normal.

Elsa carried the camcorder away from the mirror, passing through into a lounge. Her hermana, dressed in a yellow flannel and black jeans, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders, seated on their couch having a cup of coffee.

"You ready, Sylvie?" Elsa asked, shuffling cards out of frame. Sylvester placed her cup onto the coffee table, laced gloves fixing creases on a dress she's not wearing. Realizing this, she stops the action and awkwardly cups her knees.

"Si, uh, seguro," Sylvester muttered out, clearing her throat, "How does this work?"

"Essentially, from what Rae-Rae told me, this is a fun little game where siblings answer questions for that net-work mambo-jumbo," Elsa explained, and again shuffled the flash cards she prepared.

"And since we're both sane enough to not invite people to put their noses into where they don't belong, I thought maybe, instead of doing this for strangers, we do it for Persephone," Elsa elaborates further.

Sylvester blinks, grey eyes staring at her younger hermana like a doe caught in headlights. She tilts her head, her right cheek sunk in, chewing her inner cheek.

"Elsa, she's una," Sylvester points out.

"Yeah, I know that," Elsa sighs, understanding but exasperated, "But she won't be for long. When she's older, we can show her this. Let her get to know her mamá and tía some more."

Sylvester's lips didn't quite frown, but she wasn't unconvinced either. "Derecha," she nodded, still wrapping her head around the camcorder's functions.

Elsa was likely grinning behind the camcorder, "Exactly! Now, to make this a bit more fun, I shuffled the questions out of order. Now let's begin."

Elsa showed the flash cards, the shuffle complete, and flipped over the first one.

"Question 19: Who has the worst ideas?" Elsa asked aloud.

Sylvester snorted, uncharacteristic of the person she's supposed to be, a small teasing smile on her healing chapped lips, "Well we both know who that is."

Elsa let out an exaggerated gasp, feigned offense, "Why Sylvie, I am but a respectable, humble and pious shopkeeper. Do you insinuate that I am anything but?"

"Bold words coming from the local daredevil who likes to worry her hermana to near-death," Sylvester retorts, arms crossed.

"...I'm guessing Rae-Rae snitched about my escapes on her roof?"

Sylvester had no need to answer, though Elsa must have seen that she had nothing to worry over, as Sylvester's smile held only amusement.

"Next question," Elsa declared, moving on, "Number 7: Most stable romantic life?"

Both wondered briefly, and Elsa states, "I gotta give this one to you Sylvie. You managed one relationship with Irene far longer than any ones I've had in our time here."

Sylvester narrows her eyes at Elsa, raising a quizzical brow, "Is that so? You and Ezekiel were like two peas in a pod every time you both talked with each other."

"That was brief, and we weren't official. Just some one-upping through flirtation. And he had been a real jerk at first, remember? At least you and Irene had a better start," Elsa deflects, waving a hand onscreen as she desperately denied her hermana's accusations.

Sylvester merely nods her head in feigned agreement as Elsa brings out the next question.

"Question 12: Best memory together?"

Sylvester leaned back on the couch, looking up for a moment. With Sylvester pondering which memory she liked the most, Elsa already found one.

"I'd say buying this residence," Elsa admits, "A place we can forever call our home. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sylvester looked to Elsa, and gave a short nod, "Si, it is up there. But... I'd say my favorite would be when it first rained. Just... playing and dancing like kids do... like we should have been allowed to do."

Elsa must have sensed the solemness in her voice, and replied, "At least we got to do it."

Sylvester hummed, appreciative of that fact.

"Question 15: Would you rather not being able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?"

Sylvester was immediate in her response, "Not shower for a month, obviously. We can just bathe in baths instead."

Elsa laughed, cheerful and loud, "Never thought you'd be the one to take advantage of a loophole Sylvie."

Sylvester smile wholeheartedly, grey eyes sincere as she admitted, "I learned the best from my crafty little hermana."

"Aww," Elsa lightheartedly cooed, and proceeded forward, "Question 5: Who sleeps the most?"

Sylvester raised her hand, "Mother of one very curious and fussy niñita, right here."

"No arguments there," Elsa replied, "Question 14: Dream trip together?"

In a moment of synchronized thought between hermanas, they both state, "Spain."

"Question 16: Who's the older one?"

Sylvester raised her hand once again. Elsa flipped to the next flash card, "Question 10: Who had a weird phase?"

Both pondered for a moment, trying to think of any moment in their lives of such a phase.

"I don't think we were ever given a chance to do so," Elsa states. Sylvester hummed in agreement, shaking her head in confirmation.

"Alright then! Question 6..."

Elsa paused, reading the flash card: 'Who's Mom and Dad's favorite? (If there is one?)'

Sylvester waits, worry building in her gut, and asks, "What's the question?"

Elsa hesitated, but responded, "Who's.... mo- ahem, father's favorite..."

Sylvester briefly gaped, but recovered, stating, "Well, we both know the answer to that question is neither of us."

Elsa hummed, throwing the card away as she proceeded with the next one, "Question 18: Role Model? Mine's you, of course. But who's yours Sylvie?"

"I'd have to say Paul," Sylvester mustered out, clearing her throat, "He saved me after all. Raised me. Gave me something that we were denied."

"I wish I got to meet him," Elsa admits, "From what you told me, he was funny and dramatic."

Sylvester smiled at Elsa's words, "You two would have adored each other."

Allowing Sylvester a moment to keep herself together, Elsa proceeded to the next card, "Question 3: Who eats the most?"

She raised her hand this time, the various rings displayed for the camcorder to catch, "That'd be me! Speaking of which..."

Sylvester cringed, swiftly adding, "I had a sandwich earlier."

But Elsa was not deterred, "While that's good, you skipped breakfast nor have you had any fruits or snacks prior to lunch."

"I'll have something later," Sylvester flimsily promised. Elsa, not satisfied, retorts, "I'll hold you to that."

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester sighed, "Well, you already know mine. Though your recklessness is concerning considering your condition Elsa."

"I'm not made of glass, Sylvie."

"Elsa, your bones are brittle and break easily."

"...Okay I'm a little like glass, but I'm not stupid. I can take care of myself. I know what I'm doing when I climb a tree, or go bungee jumping or help Rae-Rae around her farm," Elsa defends. Her hermana replies, "I... I know that Elsa, but even so, you've been seeking out riskier and riskier thrills lately, and I can't... help but worry."

"I appreciate it," Elsa assures, and adds, "But you worry way too often."

Sylvester doesn't argue, and Elsa takes advantage of the momentary silence, "Question 4: Who has been on the weirdest situations?"

Neither hermana could think of either one being in a "weird" situation. Sylvester opted to gesture to Elsa, "Well, given your escapades so far, I vote you."

Elsa huffed, "Seeking thrill is not the same as getting stuck in chance and strange situations."

"And how likely am I going to be in such situations?"

Elsa mumbles, indistinctly playful, and moves on, "Question 20: A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?"

Sylvester raises a brow, "Whoever finds it first."

"Pfft, a bug ain't that scary," Elsa comments, "Question 17: Describe each other in three words."

Elsa and Sylvester held gaze for a moment blurted out their answer.

"My badass worrywart-hermana." "Daring little hermana."

There was a silent beat before both responded to such descriptions.

"Surely that is four words, Elsa," Sylvester argued, but Elsa interrupted with her pointer finger as she replied, "Ah, but you forget my lovely older hermana, the power a hyphen holds."

Sylvester shook her head in disbelief, but did not debate further as Elsa brought forth the next question, "Question 1: Who looks the... ah mierda, another one?"

'Who looks the most like dad?' the question read.

"Is it another relating to... him?" Sylvester tested, her lips pursed in a thin line, her voice softer and quieter than normal. Her grey eyes dulled, hands clenched into her jeans.

Elsa sighs, a hand going out of the camcorder's view, probably to play with her blonde locks, and most likely undo a braid in the process.

"I... Do you mind if we skip this one?" Elsa asks, and Sylvester eagerly nods, much to Elsa's relief, "Question 11: Best cook of the family?"

Elsa answers before Sylvester could have a chance, "Yeah, I can't cook for shit, that's you right there, Sylvie."

Sylvester closes mouth, making no comment on Elsa's lack of culinary skill. Elsa flips the next flash card, "Question 9: Who's the most dramatic?! Why that would be me!"

Sylvester nodded with absolute certainty.

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester beat Elsa to the tea, "I got this. I'm a nagging worrywart who forgets her own needs sometimes, and you, mi querida hermana, are a crafty daredevil with a big ego that often gets you into trouble."

"Hah! Wow, you know me so well," Elsa said, flipping to the next flash card, but mentions, "However, you're wrong in your description; you're not a nagger."

Sylvester doesn't visibly react to this, but she seems to be stuck in a forlorn gaze. However, the next question snaps her out of this odd pause, and Sylvester listens attentively.

"Question 13... uh, worst memory together?"

Sylvester and Elsa pondered together, brainstorming.

"Our entire childhood was jodido and never the best," Elsa mentions. Sylvester frowns, and points out, "Si, but the run for the docks weren't any better."

Elsa couldn't not hum in agreement, and she moves on, "Last Question. Number 2: Who looks the most like mom...?"

Sylvester looks baffled as Elsa blows a raspberry, "Irrelevant. We've never met nor did we have the same mother."

Elsa throws away that flashcard out of the camcorder's view, much to Sylvester's visible annoyance.

"And... that's it. We finished the game. Yay!" Elsa lightly cheered, her camcorder focusing on Sylvester, "So... food for thought?"

Silva watched herself, younger and with so much more innocence, more hope, than she had now. The camcorder in her gloved hands was running hot, the flashing sunset-red indicating a coming end, but she could care less, holding onto the memory in her hands for as long as she could.

Sylvester chewed her inner cheek and said, "Besides two nosy ones, I'd say it was... nice?"

Elsa's mock offended gasp was as exaggerated as the younger hermana's mannerisms had always been, "Just 'nice'? This is a memorial moment for the both of us. It is evidence for Persephone to watch and rewatch for years to come."

Elsa placed the camcorder on the coffee table, and sat down next to Sylvester on the couch, a big grin spread out, pearly teeth shown. She grabs a hold of Sylvester's laced gloved hands, despite the latter's exasperation over the former's words.

"Wasn't it you who emphasized the importance of this? To immortalize ourselves through memories our family can visit decades after we're gone? Whether it be through ink, our voices or our image? You have to agree that this is quite a viable way to do that," Elsa assures Sylvester, who's doubt dissipated the longer she thought.

The camcorder began to buffer, the orange-red blinking faster, but Silva continued to watch, wanting to savoir this for as long as she could.

Sylvester's grey eyes looked to Elsa, softly asking, "Okay. But I have to ask; are you sure?"

Elsa laughed, her dimples caught by the camcorder's lens, as she says-

Nothing.

The camcorder's screen was blank, only reflecting Silva. The blinking light gone, the heat prevalent, and despite desperately pushing the power button repeatedly, Silva knew she wouldn't get those reassuring words she needed to hear. Not now. Nor ever again.

Silva's shoulders slumped, still sat down on the old wooden floor in the decrepit corpse of her home. The home she had taken care of for almost a decade. Even after her hermana's death, despite the ache for her visits. Even after Persephone's passing, though the yearning for her hija's laughter echoing in the halls hurt more and more with their absence.

And now... her residence, her home, was nothing more than a burned and decrepit husk full of dust and debris. All the memories that mattered, all the memories she held close to her, the journals, the photos, the shrines they rested under, were all tattered and ripped and frayed and singed and gone. Just gone.

And now... with exception to Silva's own visage of Elsa... the last thing of her hermana that she could have shown to her familia, could no longer function. The Collapse had reduced the resources required to charge such a small device to ash. Even if something survived, the camcorder was aged, and had some bugs.

Silva flipped the lid screen closed, clutching the little camcorder in her gloved hands, pushing it against her chest as she let out a shaky breath. The foliage that claimed her house rustled as a breeze swept past.

She shook where she sat, holding onto the pain, the knowledge that change has come and another chance away from her before she could appreciate it.

The wood creaked, and Silva didn't want to look at her amor's beautiful face, didn't want to shoulder her with more of her own pain and grief. But a dainty hand cupped her face, and Silva couldn't resist, relenting to her beloved's request.

Her tearful grey eyes connected with the warm green of Faith's. Her beloved, her esposa, her amor. Her Faith.

I am hers. And she is mine. As we both vowed.

And Silva wouldn't hide herself away from her. Couldn't. Even if she tried. How could she? They both knew the best and worst of each other. Intimately.

There was no judgement pitting them against one another anymore. Like now, there was only understanding. The grief for a present that they could no longer return to.

Silva did not resist the tears that fell across her cheeks. Nor did she push away Faith when she wrapped her arms around her. An embrace that held a strength that others underestimated about her. Both possessive and a comfort. All to tell Silva, I'm here.

Silva felt two more pairs of arms hold around her. The first was of her inventive Azriel, her grip unyielding as she buried herself into Silva's shoulder, just like she had done when she found her at age nine.

And the second came from her youngest. Her Mercy, clutching onto her with small hands, light-brown hair nuzzling into her body, perhaps not quite knowing why her madre was sad now that they were out of the bunker, but doing her best to lighten the load with her presence.

Silva placed down the old camcorder, and did her best to compensate in the embrace by wrapping her arms around her Faith and precious hijas. Her familia.

The grief was ever present, but this time, Silva would not be lost to it.

[A/n] I lied, the fluff was merely a front, there's only angst here. Well, mostly at least. Set before Old Dusk (the New Dawn WIP), with only a camcorder showing pre-Silva's Hope stuff. They probably only recently left Silva's bunker and well, Silva's obviously gonna be depressed about the state of everything. At least she has her family to keep her grounded? Also I haven't written in a while, so if it was repetitive or tone death, my bad, I've been trying to get my motivation back. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this lovely (and angsty) oneshot, and see y'all in the next one!

[neaverse]

i am here asking for your favorite fics (i can tell you have good taste<3) 🫶

hi bella!!! thank you for the ask<33

okay so i read a lot. When i say a lot i mean a lot. The amount of fanfiction i’ve consumed in the last three years is probably unhealthy, but what can i say really? I don’t have much going on in my life🤷🏼‍♀️

so going into this, i contemplated how i should categorise my favourites. Current favs? Fav fics per ship? In the end, i decided to simply compile a list of fics that i still think about weeks and months (if not years) after i first read them. Fics that punched me in the gut, fics that made me question my whole existence. I could probably go on forever with this list but i’ve narrowed it down to 10 to make the job a little bit easier for both me and you hahaha!

In no particular order:

The World Is A Violent Sky by anonymous

Harry Potter wants to die; Draco Malfoy wants to live — a story of life and death, everything in between and beyond — in the form of scatters of love and hurt like freckles of stars forming into constellations.

Crimson Rivers by bizarrestars

Regulus Black was fifteen the first time his name was called at a reaping. He's twenty-five when it happens to him again. A lot has changed in that time, and one of them is that he's ready to do whatever it takes to make it home. Nothing or no one will stop him, not even James Potter. James Potter has no plans to stop Regulus Black from making it home. In fact, his plans revolve around the opposite. He has his reasons, but he's made his choice to get Regulus out of the arena, even knowing it'll be the last thing he ever does. Sirius Black was sixteen when he volunteered to take his little brother's place in the arena. At twenty-six, without the option to do it again, he has no choice but to be a mentor to his brother and best friend, knowing that only one of them can make it back out. Two names called, a mentor on the verge of falling apart, and more secrets and grief between all of them than they know how to handle. None of them are prepared for what comes next, or how far they'll go to make it through.

Harry Potter and the Welcome to the World of Grey by @sobsicles

When Harry fails to keep his anger at bay and Voldemort possesses his mind, the events that follow lead him down a long road to realizing the world isn't as black and white as it seems. Chaos, hilarity, and tragedy ensue with a Dark Lord being honest all the time, a rival becoming something else, and a world demanding to be saved. Featuring frightened Death Eaters, deep conversations with a monster, Pureblood traditions being ridiculous, and the fight to do the right thing with no true options. Harry's life just gets more and more bizarre with each passing moment.

Art Heist, Baby! by @otrtbs

When James Potter answers a mysterious ad in his local coffee shop, the last thing he expects is to be thrown into a world of white collar crime, but how can he resist when the mastermind behind the operation has dark hair and brooding eyes and promises wealth beyond James' wildest imagination? He would do anything for that boy named after a star, including stealing millions of dollars of fine art.

Orion in the Sky by space_wingding

Draco Malfoy owns a bookshop in the Lake District. He’s also cursed. Enter: Harry Potter.

Berlin Angel by @de-sire-blog

Berlin is absolutely miserable in February. Or it’s just Sirius. Alternatively: A story of how Remus Lupin stepped into Sirius’ life, flashed his trademark grin, and reminded him that life is a beautiful thing meant to be enjoyed. No risk, no fun!

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Dear Reader by @calamitoustide

never take advice from someone who's falling apart Regulus has been quite obsessed with this anonymous advice blogger Helios and becomes concerned when they begin to post cryptically to an unspecified “Reader” At the same time, he’s starting Uni and has to deal with his brother being back in his life and a certain boy he won’t leave him alone.

Starvin’ darlin’ by @showinalittlelife

The man suddenly drops the knife, he sighs like all his dreams have been crushed. “Oh, dear, I can’t eat you! You’re rotting! What a shame, thought I’d found a looker too,” he whines miserably. The thoughts in Evan’s mind are racing too fast for him to make any sense of them. He has so many questions—too many questions that are probably better left off unanswered, but before he can think properly, he opens his mouth and speaks. “You think I’m a looker?” or: Barty is a cannibal, Evan is dying and they go on a little road trip!

Running on Air by eleventy7

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

[nostalgicamerica]

My Weight-Loss Journey

Over the last three decades, despite a relatively active lifestyle, my weight has steadily increased a pound or two per year. I could see it was becoming a problem every morning in my foggy bathroom mirror.

I finally realized that I had to do something about it last fall when I walked out onto my porch one morning. The neighbor's kitten came over to say good morning and got caught up in my gravitational field and went into orbit around my waistline.

It was then I started looking into different diets. Keto, Caveman, high fat, low carb, lima bean, Atkins. Holy crap! The number of different diet choices were staggering. Greater still were the numbers of dieticians and nutritionists shrieking that this diet is best and only a booger-eater would choose that diet.

After a bit of cogitation, I started researching the Carnivore diet.

It sounded right up my alley: eating nothing but meat, cheese, eggs, and dairy products, and drinking water. And I could eat bacon. Basically, I could eat anything that is animal-based.

The bacon thing sold it for me.

The week before Thanksgiving 2023 I started my new diet plan. You might think that dieting during the holidays wasn't a grand idea, and you'd be right. Eating nothing but meat while watching my family chowing down on traditional holiday meals (turkey and all the fixings for Thanksgiving, and ham and all the fixings for Christmas) and stuffing their faces with cookies and candy and pie and everything else associated with the holidays was as much fun as stuffing a cactus up my rectum.

But I stuck to it.

To this point in my life I had never been disciplined about anything related to food, but somewhere along the way I found the strength to keep anything not indicated by the diet out of my pie hole. (except coffee - I'll be cold, dead, and buried before I stop drinking coffee.)

And the weight came off. 3,4,5 pounds a week. It seemed to literally melting off me. My initial goal was 50 pounds by the end of February and then I'd transition to something more sustainable.

It wasn't easy, at times, especially during the first 2 or 3 weeks. I bought some bite-size sugar free candy to take the edge off for the times when I was jonesing for sugar. And I ate a ton of bacon.

By Christmas Eve I had lost 20.5 pounds. By January's close I had dropped 34 pounds. On January 8th, 2024 I got out of the shower and looked down and saw my penis without a mirror for the first time since about 2003. Also, I could see a six-pack peeking from behind what remains of my belly fat. As of this writing I'm down 39 Pounds. I have a few more days to go, but I don't think I will hit 50. But that's okay.

On March 1st I will start introducing fruits and veggies and whole grains to my diet. I intend to stay away from cane sugar and continue drinking only water.

There have been some negatives along the way. 1. I now abhor the sight of steak. 2. My dog won't stop licking my legs. 3. I have had to go out and buy essentially a new wardrobe.

What I've learned - coupled with portion control - is that 90% of weight loss happens in the kitchen, and the plain fact that bacon makes everything better.

Even though I didn't meet my first goal of 50, I intend to keep going until I've met my ultimate goal of 60. I know I can do it by the end of this year.

I don't know if this will work for everyone; I only relate what I did and what happened. Overall I feel great, I am sleeping great, and my spousal unit says I look better than I have since the beginning of the Clinton administration, although she wants to buy a new car so she may be playing me...

There is enough info about the carnivore diet on the interweb-thingee so I won't add anything else except to say if I can do it, anyone can.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 1 The Detective Club Killer

It is real

Apologies if the break was shorter than one would have hoped but I am back into writing and very soon into designing

Can I randomly mention my joy when I figured out the term 'murdlers' is canon-

Now remember, please no spoilers, allusions to spoilers, or extra foreshadowing - Logico is just as in the dark right now as I am! It actually helps me write him better when I don't know what's going to happen. If you do read this please keep everything to current and past episodes!

Of course Goat Lord has entered his iconic purple outfit to match the book cover, so he will look like this for the time being. Cartoon Irratino changes his outfit for every book while everyone else looks exactly the same lol

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Deductive Logico lies awake in bed. He’s very cozy, but that’s not the point - his brain is a mess. He’s still staring at that letter that was nailed to the door. 

Inspector Irratino is up, writing.

IRRATINO: What’s up, bud. LOGICO: Nh… nothing. IRRATINO: It’s not nothing, you’re staring at that letter again. LOGICO: THEN WHY DID YOU ASK IF YOU ALREADY KNEW?

Jesus Gico, it’s barely into the first episode and you’re already screaming! 

IRRATINO: Just… let me see it.  LOGICO: No. IRRATINO: Please?

The goat takes the note. 

IRRATINO: Pff, Logico, this is just an occult incantation! I already know what it says. LOGICO: Of course you do.

“Dear Logico,

This is a single invitation to our Old Drakonian Holiday Party at my family mega-mansion in the Violet Isles. 

Here, we are safe from the ‘night-eater’ and the Red Government, but we have problems of our own, and we need your help. Please hurry!

Yours,

V”

LOGICO: V… Lady Violet, Deacon Verdigris, Vice President Mauve… IRRATINO: But… but… what about me? Why’s it just for you? [sigh] I’d really love to help them discover their dark secret… LOGICO: What dark secret? There’s no mention of a dark secret. IRRATINO: Oh there’s obviously a dark secret. There’s always a dark secret. I mean, ‘night-eater’?? Come on! LOGICO: All right, all right, I’ll admit it’s very suspicious. Now to bed for the both of us - we have a big day in the morning.

After a sleepless night of excitement, the boys head to Logico’s Detective Club. He’s invited his murderer friends over to tell them the news!

SAFFRON: Ohmygod Logico, that is SO AWESOME!! I’m so PROUD of my little guy! LOGICO: Not 'little guy'!

General Coffee has been coming to the club every day for coffee, since he was banned from his own shop.

COFFEE: The beans aren't as good as mine, but seeing Logico is a treat. LOGICO: I don’t… like that-

And Grandmaster Rose is also there!

ROSE: They’ve got me! LOGICO: Who’s got you? ROSE: My opponent! They started with the Grob! LOGICO: …

Irratino is jumping around, as he always is.

IRRATINO: I’m so happy for us! We get to solve a new mystery! LOGICO: Don’t get too excited. I’m detecting a lot of new trauma and plenty more suffering is going to come our way. IRRATINO: WOW, Logico! Do you always have this mindset??

Anyway, Coffee takes a break from his brews to check out the printing press. He seems to be rolling out a book.

COFFEE: I was so inspired by your Bookie award, I’m aiming for one myself! LOGICO: Okay… what’s the book about? COFFEE: It’s called Of Beans and Bombs - it’s about coffee and war! LOGICO: I… could have guessed as much... Wait wait wait a second. Shouldn’t there have been a murder by n-

Now a club member is dead!

LOGICO: There we go. IRRATINO: Gotta get your kicks in before the story even starts, huh. LOGICO: Whodunit? SAFFRON: Oooh, can I help you solve the case? LOGICO: No, you’re a suspect!

Logico snoops around. Coffee seems content enough, he’s just reading Murdle (product placement, wink wink!). Rose is still playing chess, because what else would he possibly be doing. Saffron is on the roof to find her own clues, examining a pigeon with a magnifying glass very thoroughly.

SAFFRON: I know he did it!

Irratino distracts everyone by taking their horoscope while Logico gathers info. 

LOGICO: Alright, all suspects to the roof please. ROSE: Um… no… I… just want to stay down here and play chess. LOGICO: Seriously?  ROSE: Yes… please?

Logico takes a second look. Rose’s ‘opponent’ is a dead fish - obviously his murder weapon.

LOGICO: Rose, what the fuck- ROSE: No! This is all wrong. [fumes red] LOGICO: [dejected] What’s wrong with my deductions? ROSE: Well for one, I was supposed to get away with it!

Logico rolls his eye. He has nothing to say.

IRRATINO: Come on, let’s go on an adventure! LOGICO: All right… as long as you don’t word it like that.

The end!

I have to make a list of how many times there's a murder and Logico does nothing about the culprit in the end lmao

I'm very excited to be writing new stuff again <3 I hope this second series is not worse than the first-

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[nauticalparamour]

11- Antonin/hermione ☺️

Antonin crept through the dungeons beneath Malfoy Manor where the highest ranking prisoners were being kept, out of the hands of the lowly snatchers who might have found them. He walked by numerous people — Lovegood, Ollivander, Creevy — but paid all of them no mind. None except for one.

The prisoner he sought was all the way at one end, furthest away from the narrow staircase that led underground. It showed how precious she was.

Hermione Granger had been caught by Fenrir Greyback and brought to Malfoy Manor with Potter and the Weasley boy. Her friends escaped, but she had been left behind, caught in Bellatrix’s grasp. She remained in Malfoy Manor since then, unaware of the War coming to its ultimate conclusion, unaware of the Dark Lord’s victory.

He found her huddled on a bed, staring listlessly at the wall. “The War is over,” he said, announcing his presence.

Her fiery brown eyes flickered to him. “And since you are here that must mean that Voldemort was victorious,” she spat out.

Antonin flinched at the word. “Yes,” he said simply, doing nothing to soften or sharpen the blow. “We are being granted boons. Each Death Eater can ask for one thing, whatever we’d like.”

Hermione sat up, a curious look on her face. She pulled her hair over one shoulder. Even though she could use a bath, she was still striking. Antonin could see the wheels turning in her mind. “You want something to do with me, is it?” she asked, slowly. “Pay back for the Department of Mysteries perhaps? Or maybe the coffee shop? You want to torture me or k-kill me?”

She jutted her chin up in the air, the illusion of fearlessness, though he could tell that she was scared inside.

“I had something else in mind, something a bit better. Something that might be equally beneficial for both of us,” he said, giddy at the prospect of her being his. He was so close to her now, he could almost reach out at touch her. “I will ask not to torture you or to kill you, but to make you my own.”

Hermione stood up and walked to the gate that held her in, her fingers around the bars. “Don’t be delusional, Dolohov,” she chided. “I’m a mudblood remember. You are supposed to be riding the Wizarding world of my kind, not intermingling. He would never allow it. And even if he did I am sure your brothers at arms would have something to say about it.”

“He will not deny me this if I ask,” he promised her. “And the Dark Lord knows that there can be… special cases. Like Severus. Like me. Like himself.”

“And the rest of your friends?” she countered, her interest in getting out of her prison winning out.

“No one would dare say anything to you if you were on my arm,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “You could do whatever you want — keep learning, take your NEWTs, become a cursebreaker for all I care. But come back to me — and my bed — every night.”

Hermione suddenly began shaking the door to her prison and gave a little shriek. “You barely even know me,” she spat at him. “Why would you want me anyway.”

He smirked at her. “We’ve dueled enough times for me to know that we would be compatible,” he said, remembering the way that she’d captured his attention, the way her magic felt interacting with his. Surely, she must have felt it, too, or she wouldn’t have entertained him for so long.

She was silent, her eyes searching his for any hint of treachery.

“Say you’ll do it,” he commanded imperiously. “Be my wife.”

[whumpsmith-participates]

Medwhump May 2024

Day 16 - Coma / Self-inflicted

TW: Self-harm, eating disorder, minor whumpee (17), vomit, throwing up, intrusive thoughts, compulsions

@medwhumpmay

Erick wasn't always a picky eater. There was a time in his life where he didn't put any thought into what he ate, so long as it was tasty. As he grew older, his relationship with food got more complicated, to the point that it impacted his health. Erick didn't remember much about that time of his life, only when it came back to haunt him...

"Are you sure you don't want anything more to eat, dear?"

"No, thanks, Ethel, I'm stuffed," Erick said, shielding his plate so she couldn't try to give him more food.

Sometimes Fetch left on a job without Erick, leaving their landlady and downstairs neighbour to look after the teen — which happened to be her favourite activity.

She invited him over for dinner each evening, cooking all his favourites and then some. He didn't get to eat as much with Fetch, his meals were simpler and...well, bland. Meanwhile Ethel happily spent all afternoon in the kitchen to make large meals from scratch and somehow managing to avoid foods that Erick couldn't eat.

He didn't have allergies, but he couldn't eat certain foods. Having been sick too often when he was younger, scar tissue in his throat made it harder to swallow certain textures, and Ethel did her best to memorise most of them.

So Erick ate a lot more when Ethel cooked for him, and after about three days of eating her dinners, he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even know why, he didn't know last time either, but he couldn't bear the thought of eating anymore. However, he couldn't say no to Ethel either.

So he ate his fill, growing more and more anxious with each bite, managing to excuse himself before dessert by saying he was tired, and quickly fleeing back up to Fetch's apartment. Once he was alone, he collapsed, easily succumbing to the pressure of intrusive thoughts and the anxiety to act on them.

Erick hated throwing up. The pain in his throat was unbearable and the inability to breathe as his whole body convulsed with each heave had him clinging to the toilet for dear life — But he had to do it. Even if he stayed up all night as a result, wrecked with guilt that he tried to ignore by distracting himself with the fine art of cleaning.

Come morning he was exhausted. With no sleep, an empty stomach and a full head, he tried his best to get ready for the day, yet when he opened the door for Ethel so they could have a cup of coffee together, she could tell right away that something was amiss.

"Oh dear! You look as pale as a sheet, Erick!"

"I do? I-I mean...yeah, I've been a bit sick last night, so I didn't get much sleep," Erick said.

"Oh you poor thing!" Ethel said, "do you want me to make you some soup, dear?"

"No, thanks," Erick quickly said, "I-I'm still queasy. The thought of food alone...might get me started."

"Well at least let me make you some tea! It's important to stay hydrated!" Ethel said, "you should go lay down too, what are you doing out of bed?"

"Fetch should be coming home today, I should tidy up and get some things from the store—"

"You'll do none of that!" Ethel said sternly, "go lay down."

Erick couldn't say no to her. He felt guilty laying on the couch and doing nothing while Ethel brought him tea and dusted the apartment a little. She even went to the store and got them some supplies, before leaving him to rest before Fetch would return.

Of course Erick didn't rest after she left. He had to at least look busy when Fetch got back, else he'd be accused of being lazy and ungrateful, and he was anything but!

Luckily Fetch didn't care much about what Erick had been up to when he got home. All he cared about was a cup of fresh coffee and a shower. Then he looked through the fridge, trying to think of something to make for dinner.

"Since when do we have so many fresh vegetables?" he asked.

"Ethel," Erick just said.

"Why am I not surprised..." Fetch sighed, "How about a stir-fry?"

"I'm not really hungry," Erick said.

"Your loss," Fetch just said, "at least help me out and chop this carrot for me."

Erick stepped over towards the kitchen counter, taking the carrot Fetch handed him and putting it on a cutting board, before finding a knife and beginning to dice the carrot just the way Fetch liked it.

"How come you're not hungry anyway?" Fetch asked, "late lunch?"

"I dunno," Erick said with a shrug.

He did know, though, but Fetch would never understand. Erick wasn't even entirely sure he understood. He only knew there was a chance he would throw up again if he ate a meal, and he hated throwing up. So to avoid that, it was easier to just avoid eating.

And Fetch let him get away with it.

This wasn't the first time Erick avoided eating for no reason whatsoever. (At least in Fetch's eyes). But he usually snapped out of it after a day or so, when the misery of starvation got too much for him.

But this time he seemed to be holding on for a bit longer. Fetch knew he was prone. The episodes he'd seen before, his inability to swallow some foods. It wasn't hard to put one and one together, but he wasn't sure what to do with the answer.

He also couldn't help but to be curious. After everything the teen had been through, why would he even consider choosing to do this to himself? Though, logically, Fetch knew he wasn't doing it just for the kick. He wasn't that dense. He knew compulsive behaviour was inherently irrational — But it still made him wonder. What happened in his childhood that started this whole cycle in the first place?

Enough was enough, though. He knew to put an end to it when the starvation was beginning to impact the teen's health. It had been three days, though Fetch wasn't sure whether it started the day he arrived home or perhaps even sooner, but for him it had been three days.

Erick was helping Fetch carry some groceries inside, when he suddenly collapsed about halfway up the stairs. He'd already been feeling sluggish all morning, had tried to compensate with an extra strong cup of coffee, but he still ended up feeling faint. Something about making the turn from grabbing a bag from the van to walking up the stairs got him dizzy, and he nearly fell, so he opted to sit down instead. His heart was pounding painfully against his chest, the dizziness gave him a headache, and the headache made him nauseous.

"What are you doing?"

Erick looked up, squinting a bit as the bright sky hurt his eyes. Fetch was standing at the top of the stairs, having come out as Erick was taking longer than usual to make it upstairs and inside.

"I-I don't feel so good, sir..." Erick admitted.

"Ya think?" Fetch just said.

Erick winced. Fetch usually softened up a bit when he got unwell, but today he seemed to harden instead.

"What, were you expecting pity?" Fetch said, "you did this to yourself, kid."

"W-what do you mean?" Erick asked.

"You know what I mean," Fetch said, "come on up, I'll make you something to eat. And you're going to eat all of it."

Erick gulped, taking a second to compose himself before pulling himself back to his feet and heading upstairs. Fetch sat him down at the kitchen table taking the grocery bag from him and pulling out some canned food.

"You want spaghettios or chowder?"

"I-I don't..."

"Erick you gotta eat something," Fetch said sternly, "why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"...I don't know," Erick said quietly, "I-I just don't wanna throw up..."

"Why would you throw up? You sick?"

"I don't know," Erick said, "but I hate it..."

"So you just don't eat 'til you pass out just to avoid throwing up?" Fetch asked.

"I...I-I guess..."

"And what makes you throw up?" Fetch asked, "an allergy? The texture thing?"

Erick looked down at the table, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. He didn't answer quick enough in his hesitation, so Fetch slammed his fist on the table, making the teen flinch.

"Answer me!"

Erick gasped, blinking back tears, still hesitating.

"I...I do..." he said quietly, "I-I do it to myself..."

"Why?"

"I don't know!"

"Fucking hell— I don't have time for this," Fetch said, before slamming an unopened can of spaghettios on the tabpe, "eat these, and if you try to throw up after, I'll stop you."

"But—"

"Don't."

"...y-yes, sir..."

"And drink some water, and you're going to bed early. You'll need some rest to regain your strength," Fetch continued, turning back to the counter to put away the rest of the groceries.

Erick slowly pulled the can on the table closer to himself, beginning to try and pry the lid open while listening to the rest of Fetch's rant.

"Y-yes, sir..."

I really struggled with this one, because it's hard to portray this flavour of self-harm that ties in with the medical setting sadfa (also hard for personal reasons haha) — please let me know if I should add more TW's

If you or a loved one are struggling, please research local support options. 🙏

Masterlist Main account

Taglist for the dynamic duo: @lavndvrr

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2023 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #4

🎤 Can you believe we’ve had four weeks already of amazing creations!! We certainly can’t! We hope you’re enjoying the music and music inspired drarry.

There’s about one and a half weeks of works left to post, so buckle up for the final countdown! 🎶

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:  

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️

And here for the YouTube playlist.

Please enjoy this week’s entries below the cut:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 anywhere with you [Gen, Digital Art]

🎵 Song Prompt: Anywhere With You by Maggie Rogers 🎵 Summary: I'll go anywhere, anywhere with you.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 Weapons of Massive Consumption [E, 38,634]

🎵 Song Prompt: The Fear by Lily Allen 🎵 Summary: Eight years after the war, Harry Potter lives a life of hedonism: raging parties, huge impulse purchases, and seemingly no worries. But it's Draco Malfoy—former Death Eater, lover of blueberry muffins, and bane of coffee shop workers—who starts to wonder if it's all a front, if something's actually terribly wrong with him. Why else would Potter ask Draco, of all fucking people, to write his biography?

📻 Bonne Foi, Draco Malfoy [E, 19,390]

🎵 Song Prompt: So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings by Squirrel Flower 🎵 Summary: Sanctimonia Vincet Semper: The Malfoy Legacy Inheritance Ritual must be undertaken by an heir pure of blood and strong of will. He will lend his body, his magic, and his mind to the Estate, and thus control the direction of the next generation of powerful Malfoy magicks. He and the Estate will both be made stronger by the ritual. -from the journals of Septimus Malfoy, 1820 At twenty-five, Draco Malfoy has to return to England to do something about the Manor, and Harry Potter won’t leave him alone. His years-old crush on Potter is reignited over repairs, mermaid lemonades, and pocket owl messages.

📻 The Wedding Shed [E, 2,057]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'I Write Sins Not Tragedies' by Panic! at the Disco 🎵 Summary: One would consider the day his best friend got married to be an occasion where he did not have to show any sort of poise. But apparently, Ronald Weasley thoroughly misjudged the entire situation.

📻 LA, Who Am I To Love You? [E, 42,525]

🎵 Song Prompt: Venice Bitch by Lana del Rey 🎵 Summary: Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

📻 All I Think About [T, 4,429]

🎵 Song Prompt: Heat Waves by Glass Animals 🎵 Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one perfect late summer night in June.

📻 Put It On Your Face Boy [E, 3,380]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Daddy AF' by 'Slayyyter' 🎵 Summary: Harry watches as Draco's hips sway to the beat. He sips his muggle bourbon and imagines the noises they would make if Harry had Draco's legs draped over his shoulders. With liquid courage flowing through his veins, Harry slammed the drink down on the bar and wove his way through the crowd towards the northern star that had been calling his name for years.

📻 What We Left Behind [E, 32,815]

🎵 Song Prompt: The Day We Caught The Train by Ocean Colour Scene 🎵 Summary: Harry's recovering from an injury. Malfoy's recovering from heartbreak. Beaten down and bruised, Harry takes up Malfoy's offer to stay at his secluded seaside cottage in Dorset. It'll be good to get away from it all. It's only for a few days, and it's only so he can heal. Nothing else. Digging up past feelings will only make matters worse, and besides, Malfoy doesn't feel the same way. Does he?

📻 Nothing But You On My Mind [M, 29,404]

🎵 Song Prompt: Crazy English Summer by Faithless 🎵 Summary: Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They'll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] remember me [T, 2:50:44]

🖋️ Original author: hupsoonheng 🎵 Song Prompt: Remember Me from Coco 🎵 Summary: On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back. Only Draco believes that Harry isn't dead, and pours himself into finding his husband despite his friends' pleas to move on and grieve properly. What he finds at the end of that work, though, is not at all what he wanted.

[assorted-fics]

Fics of the Month

Marvel

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by MusingsOnBuckyBarnes & Owlet First Fic: The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Average Avengers Local Chapter 7 of New York City by hetrez

Steve and Tony accidentally start a national do-gooders association and fall in love.

Changing Fate by melWinter

Loki was supposed to go back to Asgard to assume control of the throne after saving Thor on Svartalfheim. He was supposed to be the portent for Ragnarok...too bad fate didn't ask for his opinion. After all, fate didn't plan for Loki to find an abandoned baby elf. Nor did Loki plan to discover how intriguing Jane Foster can be. And what the heck do the Avengers and his trickster of a daughter have to do with any of this? Loki makes a different choice. But can Loki truly escape the fate that has been his since the beginning? Can the trickster learn to love? With Thanos rising and the infinity war looming, the universe may come to an end if the nine realms can't reconcile with the prince it once rejected. Eventual Jane/Loki. Warning: Loki and Hela snarkiness, Tony cockiness, Thor cluelessness, and random cuteness of Loki dealing with being a dad.

secret keeper by jilliancares

Ellie stares at the new arrival, gaping. All the evidence points to one obvious answer, but this guy looks nothing like the Spider-Man Ellie recognizes — mostly because he isn’t wearing the suit. “Crappy day to get kidnapped, amirite?” he says, crouching next to Ellie and deftly untying her restraints. “Looks like these guys were amateurs, though. They didn’t even lock the windows.” In which Ellie accidentally becomes the one person who knows Spider-Man's identity. She doesn't tell her dad.

Harry Potter

Of a Linear Circle (series) by flamethrower

First Fic: In September of 1971, Severus Snape finds a forgotten portrait of the Slytherin family in a dark corner of the Slytherin Common Room. At the time, he has no idea that talking portrait will affect the rest of his life.

When It Returns by academicdisaster

‘You’re late, layabout,’ Malfoy drawled, pushing the whiskey over to him. ‘I’ll have you know that I am very busy maintaining a whole house and garden by myself now.’ ‘Oooh, the dead husband card. Before any alcohol. Is that a record?’ Harry's husband is dead, and Malfoy is the only one who gets it. Or, the one where they drink at a straight man pub, renovate a house, and learn how to find joy again.

Percy Weasley and the Prefect Job That Isn’t A Vanity Role by adiduck (book_people) and joisbishmyoga

In Which Prefects Have Very Specific Training And Delineated Duties, Namely Handling Exactly One (1) Dormful Of Kids -OR- Percy Is Dorm Mom To Five Boys And No One Else -OR- In Which McGonagall Pictured Prefect Oliver Wood For Two Minutes, Turned Green, And Gave Percy The Badge Despite The Sheer Number Of Responsibilities He Already Had, And It Did Not End In Disaster The Notes For A Fic That Will Not Be Written No, Really, It Won't, Please Don't Ask A Place on Earth by louisfake "Right," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I'm supposed to believe that the Gryffindor war hero caught the former Death Eater singing Muggle pop like a lunatic in his dormitory and didn't immediately share the news with his pack of admirers?" Harry couldn't help it, he snorted a little. "As if they would ever believe me, Draco." Draco drew himself up, ready to launch into some other tirade, so Harry held up a hand; "What would I even say? I saw Draco Malfoy being joyful and free. How is that a joke?"

Merlin

Next to You (It’s the Rule) by LunaMyLove

Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur. Or Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others. Also, or Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

The Hunt for Red Emrys by Darkbluedark

King Arthur sets out to keep his promise to the spirit of the Druid boy by repealing his father's ban on magic. Unfortunately, this is easier said than done, for reasons including but not limited to the following: (1) He can't change the law until he understands magic better, but no sorcerer is willing to explain magic to him until he changes the law; (2) The sorcerers all have some strange obsession with Merlin, which is awakening all sorts of feelings in Arthur that he really doesn't fancy examining too closely; (3) He is starting to feel like the butt of some Druid-population-wide inside joke involving the mysterious phenomenon called Emrys; and (4) Oh yeah, Morgana is still trying to kill him. Thus he embarks on a journey of discovery, diplomacy, accountability, and self-improvement, and maybe even falls in love along the way.

Open Eyes by N16

After Merlin experiences abuse at the hands of a visiting lord, Arthur decides his manservant needs to learn how to defend himself. But Merlin is unimpressed with Arthur's solution, and Arthur is forced to confront some unpleasant truths about what happens right under his nose. How can he protect a kingdom when he can't even protect those inside his castle? One-shot.

Descendants

till death do us part by RottenKidNextDoor (Portal of Words)

"the first time jay killed carlos, they were sitting in the foyer of hell hall and carlos was worried about the blood on the floor." or jay and carlos have an agreement to kill each other to exploit the magic barrier's healing ability when things go too far. killing for mercy isn't as easy as it sounds.

death came to visit me so sweetly by tobiko

Do you know what it feels like to die? The Isle kids do. It's not something that they like to talk about.

[tseneipgam]

"I ate and drank slowly as one should (cook fast, eat slowly) and without distractions such as (thank heavens) conversation or reading. Indeed eating is so pleasant one should even try to suppress thought. Of course reading and thinking are important but, my God, food is important too. How fortunate we are to be food-consuming animals. Every meal should be a treat and one ought to bless every day which brings with it a good digestion and the precious gift of hunger.”

‘Is there any language in which there is a word for that tender runnel that joins the mouth and the nose?’

‘We lived in paradise. We fled on bicycles to lie in buttercup fields, beside railway bridges, near canals, in waste land awaiting housing estates. Ours was already a suburban countryside, but it was as lovely and significant to us as the Garden of Eden’

‘I ate three oranges at eleven o’clock this morning. Oranges should be eaten in solitude and as a treat when one is feeling hungry. They are too messy and overwhelming to form part of an ordinary meal. I should say here that I am not a breakfast eater though I respect those who are. I breakfast on delicious Indian tea. Coffee and China tea are intolerable at breakfast time, and, for me, coffee unless it is very good and made by somebody else is pretty intolerable at any time. It seems to me an inconvenient and much overrated drink, but this I will admit to be a matter of personal taste. (Whereas other views which I hold on the subject of food approximate to absolute truths.)’

‘I gave myself up to that not unpleasing slightly mad feeling that always comes over me when I enter London, the catering anonymous feeling of returning into oneself in the great tragicomic metropolis when the bond of society, whether in train or car, is suddenly snapped.’

‘I felt a need simply to see a few ordinary human beings who were living ordinary human lives, having holidays, honeymoons, quarrels, trouble with their motor cars, trouble with their mortgages.’

‘Then I saw below me, their wet doggy faces looking curiously upward, four seals, swimming so close to the rock that I could almost have touched them. I looked down at their pointed noses only a few feet below, their dripping whiskers, their bright inquisitive round eyes, and the lithe and glossy grace of their wet backs. They curved and played a while, gulping and gurgling a little, looking up at me all the time. And as I watched their play I could not doubt that they were beneficent beings come to visit me and bless me.’

‘..how the story ought to end, with the seals and the stars, explanation, resignation, reconciliation, everything picked up into some radiant bland ambiguous higher significance, in calm of mind, all passion spent. However life, unlike art, has an irritating way of bumping and limping on, undoing conversions, casting doubt on solutions, and generally illustrating the impossibility of living happily or virtuously ever after…of course loose ends can never be properly tied, one is always producing new ones. Time, like the sea, unties all knots. Judgments on people are never final, they emerge from summings up which at once suggest the need of a reconsideration. Human arrangements are nothing but loose ends and hazy reckoning, whatever art may otherwise pretend in order to console us"

"One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better."

"Today there is a pleasant very light haze over the whole sky, and the sea has a misleadingly docile silvered look, as if the substantial wavelets were determined to stroke the rocks as hard as they could without showing any trace of foam. It is a compact radiant complacent sort of sea, very beautiful. There ought to be seals, the waves themselves are almost seals today, but still I scan the water in vain with my long-distance glasses."

"'Come, darling, don't let your tea get cold. And look, I've brought you such a lovely present, a stone, the most beauti- ful stone on the shore.' I laid down beside her plate the elliptical stone, my very first one, the prize of my collection, hand-sized, a mottled pink, irregularly criss-crossed with white bars in a design before which Klee and Mondrian would have bowed to the ground."

"Thus people can be light sources, without ever knowing, for years is the lives of others, while their own lives take different and hidden courses. Equally one can be, and I recalled Peregrine's words, a monster, a cancer, in the mind of someone whom one has half forgotten or even never met."

"James said, 'Can you hear the sea?' 'That was Keats' favourite quotation from Shakespeare."

"I pulled myself up, knelt, and began to shake my blankets and my pillow which were wet with dew. Then I heard, odd and frightening in that total stillness, a sound coming from the water, a sudden and quite loud splashing, as if something just below the rock were about to emerge, and crawl out perhaps onto the land. I had a moment of sheer fear as I turned and leaned towards the sea edge. Then I saw below me, their wet doggy faces looking curiously upward, four seals, swimming so close to the rock that I could almost have touched them. I looked down at their pointed noses only a few feet below, their dripping whiskers, their bright inquisitive round eyes, and the lithe and glossy grace of their wet backs. They curved and played a while, gulping and gurgling a little, looking up at me all the time. And as I watched their play I could not doubt that they were beneficent beings come to visit me and bless me."

"Can one change oneself? I doubt it. Or if there is any change it must be measured as the millionth part of a millimetre. When the poor ghosts have gone, what remains are ordinary obli- gations and ordinary interests. One can live quietly and try to do tiny good things and harm no one. I cannot think of any tiny good thing to do at the moment, but perhaps I shall think of one tomorrow"

[fakesurprise]

I walk into the hotel with a cup from starbucks, have a sip of it. It’s almost nine in the morning, the wandering magician is out wandering. Jay would be with him, except Jay is currently hiding inside the hotel coffeepot. It’s one of those cheap industrial Braun units, but those tend not to gleam silvery-gold and hum audibly as you get closer to them.

I set my half-finished coffee down on the counter and walk over.

Jay used my phone to ask if I would want polls on tumblr. I have nothing to poll anyone about. Unlike Jay. Who polled people to ask where to hide from me.

It could have been far worse. Jay could have thought of other options.

In the case of dangerous things, tumblr dropping a new feature is technically not high on that list.

I get out a filter, pour in water, add the cheap hotel coffee, turn it on. It takes less than five minutes to make a cup of coffee that steams gloriously and smells sweet and dark chocolatey at at the same time, with hints of smoky herbs. Not bitter, of course. I’m not sure Jay gets how to do bitter.

“So. What happens if I dump this fabulous coffee down the sink because I’m despondant that Jay isn’t here?” I say aloud.

The coffee vibrates. The machine ripples.

Jay appears beside me, all eleven and contrite, eyes wide. Today he’s wearing jeans, a skirt and a dress along with an actual bonnet.

“I’m here but! I’m hiding,” he says.

“You’re still hiding even if I can see you?”

Jay vanishes from view.

“Kiddo.”

He appears to my left with a huge grin, and slams into me for a hug. “It’s hard to hide from you cuz you’re the bestest, Charlie!”

I hug him back. The coffee does not spill. I am not certain it can, because Jay helped make it.

I have a sip. The world is filled with music notes I’ve never heard, every sound and colour sharp and vibrant.

I set it down. My hands are shaking with the effort of not drinking more.

The aroma is taking root inside me. I close my eyes. I’m not a magician. I’m not Jay. I have some tricks, and the aroma is eaten a moment later by the aromas of cheap gas-station coffee from earlier this week.

“Jay.”

“I didn’t mean to use your phone but! I was worried you hadn’t done a poll,” he wails.

“... Yes. I gathered that. You could have asked me why.”

“Oh!”

“In general it is better to ask people before you help them.”

“Oh, I totally know that but you’re Charlie!”

There are many questions I could ask to that; I am not certain I want any of the answers.

“Next time you want to hide from me, try not hiding and face me. Hiding just makes me cross.”

Jay thinks that over, then nods. “I’m not hiding from you right now!”

I rub the bridge of my nose. Some battles you don’t win. Some I should know better than to never fight.

“You are being very jaysome at that, yes. Tell you what: see if Honcho wants the coffee, while I get finish packing my things for the next town we’re going to?” “I can do that!” Jay vanishes along with the coffee.

The wandering magician will have words with me later, but the coffee might help him. I am pretty certain it can’t not help, given it was made with jaysome and with love.

I call reception and tell them the coffee machine is broken, but we got Starbucks so we’re fine, brushing off any apology as I hang up. Anyone else using this machine could have problems. I reach out with a hand, focus, and ‘eat’ several vital chips until they don’t work.

There are very few god-eaters in the world; I am not certain any other can do most of what I can, but you learn to broaden your power and understanding when travelling with a Jay.

I leave a good tip for the cleaning staff, get our clothing and stuff into the three duffel bags we use and head down to our RV. I’m just glad Jay didn’t decide to hide in it.

[unopenablebox]

i not-infrequently don’t manage to bring lunch to work for whatever reason, and thus need to buy food. which is unfortunate, because there is absolutely fucking nothing around here that is just fucking normal and edible. regular food. and not a Whole Fucking Thing

deli: slightly too long of a walk, eating a bagel is a Whole Thing if your jaw is fucked up, their nonbagel sandwiches fucking suck. viable but not a cure-all

clover: not delicious

fancy coffee shop 1: very expensive, very rich food. good but can make me sick if i am incautious. also i had it yesterday

2: ditto also i am skeptical of their sandwiches

like four different Grain Bowl places: eating a Grain Bowl is so psychologically effortful for me. if i get a Grain Bowl i might as well go home because that was all my willpower for the rest of the day

chinese food truck: cash only, highly variable and often out of key stuff, not especially delicious

sandwich place: wettest food on record

brunch place: astoundingly expensive, do not know how to make sandwiches that do not suck, do not sell anything else that is a lunch

pizza place: pizzas expensive, too large, i am not technically able to consume dairy

anything else: an 8+ minute walk which is more time than i can afford to be indulgently gone from work without fear. this category includes “tasty sandwiches place”, “greek place with things that are edible and delicious”, and, my holy fucking grail, “mcdonalds”. god i wish i could just buy fucking mcdonalds for lunch once a week. it’s so extremely possible to successfully purchase, eat, and digest mcdonalds food you wouldnt believe it. unfortunately, even if it were not a half hour round-trip walk to acquire, i would not be able to openly eat mcdonalds at work without incurring some kind of cruel opprobrium from people who think having a college degree puts you in a permanent overclass relative to mcdonalds-eaters

[chainofclovers]

tagged by: @talldecafcappuccino (thanks! <3)

last song: I was driving home from Target earlier listening to my 2022 mix and the last song that played start to finish was song of the moment/song of my entire life “Least Expected” by My Morning Jacket (let’s put it this way, I epigraphed with it as soon as I had the right thing for it).

last show/series: I am watching a lot right now. Just finished season 2 of What We Do in the Shadows a few nights ago. And I’m currently watching THREE things on a weekly basis: Abbott Elementary (!!!) and GBBO and series 14 of Taskmaster.

currently watching: I accidentally answered that in the previous question.

favorite color: Grey. Also very bright dark pink with a lot of red in it. Also most deep blues and purples.

sweet, spicy, or savory: Savory if I had to choose, but ideally let’s get all of that going at once. Especially spicy.

currently reading: Normal People by Sally Rooney. I’m liking it, but I haven’t picked it up in a few days, and that’s making me sad because I inhaled Beautiful World, Where Are You? (which I’d actually count among an all-time fave both for the sheer pleasure of having read it and also because I think the writing has a lot to teach me), and then I inhaled Conversations With Friends even though it felt like the work of a much newer/younger writer (which is true) because it was similarly catnip-like for my brain. I may actually need to start Normal People over and force myself to read it at a similar pace as the others?

what i'm working on: Apparently I’m watching all the shows and reading all the books and eating all the flavors and also working on all the stories? I’ve written very little this week due to time constraints and stress, but that will hopefully change as soon as later in this quiet night curled up on the couch while my wife watches football. :) I’m working on an original story that is my first attempt at any kind of dystopian setting (dystopian lite for sure). I’m also working on Other People’s Words # 8 (Ted Lasso love square series), and I just got my Femslash Exchange assignment, and I’ve got a couple other things on the list too.

currently obsessed with: Ted Lasso, always, as a kinda constant thing (even the ebbs and flows never dip below or transcend past obsession, it’s just a thing that is true at this point). My Morning Jacket. This itchy make-tangible-things feeling I have and the progress I’m making (pun not intended) on that. Taskmaster and its ~~dynamics. Buttered bread and coffee. Beautiful World, Where Are You? and specifically a couple of scenes. Returning to my outdoor volleyball team and getting stronger. Those (and the other constant obsessions like wife obsession, cat obsession, friend obsession) are the fun ones.

Less fun is me obsessing over my sleep patterns and the factors that currently impact my sleep. Also the way having Covid back in February is still effecting my relationship to food, in that my appetite is really sluggish and the quantity of food I can eat is super inconsistent and some of the stuff I used to love doesn’t feel quite right, in that it doesn’t feel as VIVID to eat good food as it used to. I was never a huge meat eater and I’ve been eating about 90% vegetarian and 98% pescatarian since early summer, but tonight I bought and ate beef jerky because NOTHING else sounded good and I needed protein so badly. It was savory, spicy, and a little sweet, and I’m so glad I ate it, even though I wish I had not been in a position to want to eat it! It’s so weird! I’m reasonably healthy at the moment and to my knowledge haven’t suffered any ill effects from these changes, but I dislike how my food situation has shifted a few degrees in a way I still haven’t put my finger on. It does make me really appreciate it when I find something I want to eat, enjoy it as much as I think I will, and don’t regret it after.

tagging: @telanu, @ellydash, @dollsome-does-tumblr, @theodore-lasso, @lizmitches, @ylizam, @thesumdancekid, @chilly-flame, and also anyone who wants to do this because I’ve lost track of who’s been tagged and I’m terrible at remembering usernames in times like these but I never get sick of reading personal quiz answers

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. mango eater iced coffee drinker bread lover honey nut cheerio lefty eyebag princess😅

Hm so with my second account, it follows the same blogs I follow in the first one. I don't really know how to just follow certain blogs for each account lol cause I tried to see if I can follow people with my second account name but I can't 🤔

But yeah 😁 it is like incorrect quotes, and right now it's mostly focused around Wanda hahaha I am making it mostly funny because I really don't know how to write anything else. I suck at writing things in detail.

Ah I know what you mean. My best friend is the same way, she is constantly cleaning or just playing with her daughter. I think she will have a hard time when my niece goes to preschool soon lol

I say get drunk! It's the end of the year, let go of it ahahaha let go by getting drunk then having a really bad hangover the next day. Hm, maybe I won't give you my other tumblr name, I don't wanna get weird drunk text from you 😂 just kidding

Okay, I'll see if I can find the movie in the store or stream it somewhere 🤔 I am the same way, I hate when people talk to me during the movie. But if I am at home, I always pause the movie so I can make comments lol

I usually don't mind gory movies. I get iffy though when they show something being done to the characters skin or nails. Hahaha! Thats exactly why I can't watch filipino scary movies. I feel like the ghosts or supernatural stuff are actually there and will haunt me.

Hm I don't know either. I never pay attention to ratings until after I watch the movie. Oh actually there is one that people loved but I hate it because it was so bad. It's the cabin in the woods. It's supposed to be scary, but the whole time I was watching it, I kept going what the eff. 😂

Ok, last question for the night. 3 movies or shows that awaken your sexuality or was your sexual awakening. I hope the question made sense.

-CuriousGeorge

Hi hi righty eyebag!

Wow, that was a long nickname plus the princess nickname at the end..😁🤭

Ah i see. So it means ur second account follows mine..i wonder which none is u 🤔 hahahah.

I love incorrect quotes! Some of them can make me really laugh out loud..😅😆 n how they make y/n sometimes stupid but funny n how wanda or nat very patient with y/n. I love it!

Hahaha okay, it's understandable that u dont wanna give me ur tumblr because of not wanting to get drunk text from me. 🤣🤣🤣

Im.not sure if i wanna get drunk. The last time i got drunk, i shared a big bottle of vodka with him n other cocktails, i got so drunk n i felt like shit the next morning.. 🤣

Hahah yeah pls find it n let me know what u think about Knives Out.

Well, that's not fun either if u keep stopping the movie to comment. Just kidding.😆 at least it's bettter than miss the movie because someone is talking. It's still very thoughtful of u.

I will talk in the movie sometimea if we rewatch a movie n the other person already watched it too.

Im like that too with indonesian ghost movie.. i think asian ghosts r described a little more eerily weird.hahaha. n they look scary.

Ah i see.i never really remember movies that i regret watching that people love it.

Oh oh! I remember! I watched Hunger Games Mocking Birds with my friends n they all were excited about it. But i fell asleep watching it.😅 a movie thats called Yesterday also got me bored like hell that i have to stop watching it not even half of movie. The most recent bad movies i watch that people seems to love it is the latest Jurassic Park movies. I even feel like almost 3 hours of my life was wasted 😅 it's just my opinion though, i hv nothing agaisnt the fans of that movie.

Hmm 3 movies that was my gay awakening

1. The Mummy Returns (Rachelle Weisz was sooo hot in it)

2. I Can't Think Straight (the story is quite similar with my story with my ex-gf)

3. Kyss Mig or Kiss me (it's a sweden movie but good story in it.)

4. Iron Man 2 (when Natasha first appeared in MCU)

Whats urs?

Next question

Cheerio!

[cameoutstruggling93]

Still standing! Sort of...but the resource fair I ran was a success!! 💜🧡💜🧡

[jungkooksmytype]

A Piece of You (m) | jjk | 2

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x Artist!Reader, Sope coz why not ;)

Genre: enemies to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: none in this chapter (eventual smut)

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

crossposted on Wattpad.

Prev | next

The screeching of the alarm clock woke me up from a peaceful sleep. One that I had gotten by practically promising my unborn child to the gods.

"UGHHHHHHH why did I set the alarm for so fucking early?? Who the fuck is awake at this time?" I shouted out to no one in particular. It is my fault for sleeping after the sun rose. Not even the gods can save me from my self destructive habits.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I checked the time. It was 10:30 am and all I could think about was all the work I had to get done today. 

Great job Y/N for leaving all your work till the last minute. I mentally face-palmed myself. 

I got out from my bed after half an hour of scrolling through instagram and seeing stories from last night of my friends getting drunk and enjoying at parties while I was stuck at home staring at my boring walls. 

Sighing, I dragged myself to my bathroom, still exhausted from the lack of sleep. Following my morning routine, I made my way into the kitchen to snack on my favorite cereal for breakfast. A combination of strawberry and honey cereal creating a perfect balance. Well, perfect for me. Yuna says it makes her teeth tingle so she stays away from mixing her cereals.

And of course, as if things couldn't get harder for me, my cereal ran out. I really could've cooked anything else but being the picky eater that I am, I knew I wouldn't be satisfied if I didn't get my daily dose of sugary strawberry milk. 

Just as I was about to grab my car keys to head out to the grocery store, I got a call from none other than my best friend, Min Yoongi. 

"Hey Y/N..." He spoke first.

Y/N? we never called each other by our real names. It was always a silly nickname we would come up with to tease each other.

"Hey? Is something wrong?"

"what do you mean?"

"It's just that you're never up this early and you never call me by my real name. So I thought something must be going on?" 

"N-nothing is wrong. I-i'm just super excited. A-and nervous that's all." I noticed that he was stuttering. he never stuttered. 

"What are you nervous for? Should I be worried?" I started feeling anxious at his tone.

"Y/N... I haven't told this to anyone yet and you're the first person I'm telling but..."

"But what Yoongi?" 

I heard some clattering in the background making me even more anxious as to what was going on with Yoongi.

"hey listen. I got to go but meet me at that cafe near your apartment in 20 minutes. I need to tell you something."

"Yoon-" Just as I was about to ask him what it was that he wanted to talk about, he cut the call and I was left with this immense amount of anxiety from not knowing what was going on. 

*Sigh* I guess I'll be seeing him in 20 mins anyway. 

Since it was just Yoongi that I'd be meeting up, I put on a cute, casual outfit and tried to hide at least some of the dark circles that showed up under my eyes. 

As soon as I entered the cafe, a heavenly aroma made its way into my nostrils and let me tell you, at that moment, I was in heaven. Nothing could snap me out of this trance. Unless, of course it's Min Yoongi himself. 

As I was taking in the scent of the coffee shop, completely unaware of my surroundings, my senses were paralyzed as I took in this godly scent. A smile crept onto my face as I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. A whiff of heaven as I liked to call it.

The peace didn't last long as I felt a hand yank me and before I knew it I was sitting face to face with my very own nightmare of a best friend who will not let me enjoy this heavenly coffee scent.

I swear I had murder in my eyes and it didn't matter to my whether it was my best friend making my day harder, I would've punched him right in the face if he got on my nerves again. It's as if my eyes glowed red. Which I'm sure didn't go unnoticed by him. 

Forgetting the rage that i previously felt, I broke the silence first. 

"What is it Min? Why'd you call me out this early? Oh and by the way, you better buy me coffee. I haven't slept a bit since last night." 

I rolled my eyes at him.

"I will, I will but first I need to tell you something,"

I nodded which gave him the sign to continue.

"So you remember Hobi right?"

"Hobi? As in Hobi from high school?"

"Yeah, him."

"Okay, and what about him?"

"Well...last night he kind of asked me out on a date..."

"THE Jung Hoseok asked you out?"

"Yeah?"

"Jung Hoseok, the CEO of that super famous dance chain? The multi-millionaire? My high school friend, Jung Hoseok?" I blurted out confused as to what was going on.

"Yup, that's the one."

"Wasn't he like- you know...into girls?

"Well, even I thought so but no he actually told me he's Bi."

I let out an "Oh" as he finally got to the reason why he called me to the cafe.

"So what do you think? Should I say yes?"

"I mean you have been crushing on him for the past 3 years so I don't see a reason why not." I squealed, trying to be supportive towards my best friend I let him know that I am happy and excited for him. 

"Okay Phew. I was really worried there for a sec. I thought you wouldn't approve since he was your friend first."

"of course not Yoongs. You know how much I love you. It's your life, go get that rich boy's d-"

He shut me up before I could finish what I was saying by putting his palm up to my lips. And of course being the little shit that I am, I had to lick his palm to get him to get his hands off my face. Who knows where they've been or what they've touched. I shivered at the thought as I licked a stripe on his palm, instantly making both of us contort a grossed out face.

"Okay, I listened to you. Now buy me coffee you asshole." I joked poking the side of ribs, almost making him fall off his chair.

He handed me cash and told me to buy him and myself some coffee since he also didn't get any sleep last night. 

He took out his tongue in an attempt to tease me and said "There you go loser. Try not to mess up the order." 

I rolled my eyes right near his face so he could see how annoying he was being. 

I made my way to the counter while fixing my pants that slightly slid down while I was sitting. 

And it's as if the devil himself decided to greet me today, I felt my entire body get soaked in a cold, brown liquid. Just the thing I needed to start my day. 

I looked up to see who I need to murder for ruining my favorite pair of jeans and I was met with a pair of broad shoulders and a face that looked like it was sculpted by Aphrodite herself. 

Forgetting all about my cold, wet body, I couldn't help but think WTF he's so fine. And those plump lips-

He snapped his fingers at me and led me out of my daze. He did a full 90 degree bow and handed me a business card saying that I will be compensated for my damaged clothes. He dashed out the door and got into his expensive sports car parked right outside the cafe before I could even say anything. 

"Ya! Who the FU-" Yoongi stopped me yet again. He handed me tissues to clean myself up zipped up the jacket that I was wearing. I forgot all about the coffee as he led me outside the shop, stopping me from making a complete fool of myself.

I looked down at the card that I was griping onto for dear life. My eyes tripled in size as I read the name that was embossed in black lettering. 

"Jeon Jungkook, CEO of JJK inc." I read out loud. A name that sounded so familiar yet so foreign.

Could it really be him?