#i only scheduled this bc i just posted smth i feel like i should let it breathe first

[randomminty]

Enchanted by akatsukis princess carryisms

#art tag #enstars #wait can i tag akatsuki. what if thats naruto. #keito hasumi #souma kanzaki #kuro kiryu #i like posting non pokemon stuff here than twt bc of the tagging system </3 feels safer #waiting for akats climax event is like pulling teeth i really thought theyd be next i couldve never predicted 2wink #GOOD for them tho i love 2wink. yutas finally free from 5 star jail #i love posting a buncha pokemon then a random non pokemon thing im unpredictable. i keep you guessing. i draw the same 3 enstars characters #i only scheduled this bc i just posted smth i feel like i should let it breathe first #ok thats all. gotnight #edit i forgot to make it as clear as possible the only thing i ship within akats is kurokei </3333 i dont like shipping souma w them #which is why kuro and keito get a whole 3 drawings together. spoiled

[meowufff]

This is my first actual post on Tumblr ever so pls bear with me. Also, English is not my first language so pls excuse any mistakes I make :)

So, this whole thing here started just as a joke bc I was curious if anyone else was feeling constantly tired all day no matter how long I sleep. But it all somehow escalated a bit and I may have started hyperfixating on it so well, now it actually became a little survey.

I also wanted to mention that I only asked the artist in my little Tumblr bubble, which is mostly tmnt content, so my results are mostly referring to tmnt artists.

In total, I asked 143 people if they could remember the last time they woke up and just felt actually rested for more than half of the day.

I probably could have been more specific with my question but again, I did not actually planned to let it become so big. Personally, for me being rested means, having a clear head, no headache or foggy mind without consuming any caffeine.

So out of 143 people, 100 answered me and I tried my best to sort all of the answers after the criteria “good-sleep-schedule” and “bad-sleep-schedule” and also noted when exactly they last felt actually rested into either the last days, weeks, months, years or “???” when they couldn’t remember or didn’t mention anything specific.

And let’s just say… it does not really look good. Out of 100 people, only 18 have an actual good sleep schedule. Out of these 18 people, 13 felt really rested in the last days, 2 in the last weeks, only one person in the last months and 2 in the last years.

Out of the 82 of people who have a bad sleep schedule, 10% lastly felt rested in the last days, 11% in the last weeks, 11% in the last months, 30% in the last years, and 38% couldn’t remember or didn’t specify it.

While reading all your answers I came to realize being sleep deprived is not just bc any of them thought “Oh it would be really neat to stay up till 4 am!” or smth like that.

A lot of the artists who answered me mentioned that they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep due to stuff like insomnia, chronic pain, other issues, or children (yeah, ok, there was just one who had a child but still).

While analyzing I mostly referred the situations to my own experience with going to sleep or rather not going to sleep...

I usually don’t have problems falling asleep but trouble actually putting my stuff away and going to bed bc I don’t want to end the day or just don’t want to go to sleep (don’t ask why, I have no idea why I am like this). While having these “episodes” I often doodle smth, binge reading some fanfics, or watch whatever I can find on the internet until I’m just falling asleep or can convince myself that it is 3 am and I really should go to bed now.

So, my personal theory about why sleep deprivation is so common among Tumblr artists is not bc they do art all night. My theory is that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep due to insomnia, pain, or other issues are filling the time until they hopefully fall asleep with their art, doodles, writings, or whatever their creative minds can bring up, to help the time pass.

In total that would mean that not all artists are sleep deprived but more that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep do a lot of art or creative stuff in general.

Something I could also imagine is, that if they start doing art while waiting for sleep, they start to concentrate a lot on creating more and start procrastinating sleep even if they actually get tired bc they wanna do art and fuck up their non-existing sleep schedule even more but that could also just be me projecting here.

I know that is probably no kind of big revelation but for me it was kind of surprising to see how many people here are as sleep deprived as me and due to what reasons.

I’m not going to preach to any of you to get that problem solved or smth, I have no right to tell you what to do and would be a major hypocrite so instead I really which everyone to get some kind of good sleep schedule one day and the joy of waking up and feeling completely rested at least thrice per week.

I absolutely love all your art and thank you a thousand times for helping me with this spontaneous survey!

I would love to hear your opinions on my theory and conclusion so pls don’t be shy and feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made or tell me your own theories :D

Also, if my question is still sitting in your inbox, feel free to answer! I’m gonna keep ma big ass excel table so I can edit all the results anytime. And maybe, one day, I'm gonna continue this survey and go into more detail but for now I need to leave it like this.

Ok, that's all I got

BYE!

Thanks to all participants

@abbeyofcyn @angelpuns @beannary @bulbabutt @camilieroart @cementgeek @cheesyescapade @cokowiii @easterartist @frosteaart @gemini-forest @happyfoxx-art @heckitall @hellishgayliath @holy-sweetsour-milk @icepopcider @idiot-mushroom @iscreamkitty @kovalitics @laseralligator @lieutenantbiscute @matchstique @mightyanxiety @miiukkaa @mr-doodles @pezhead @probably-not-a-rutabaga @pumpkster @sad-leon @sassatello @sewercrocodileart @sheep-turtles-and-pizza @signanothername @spectra-bear @stephuart @tangledinink @tapakah0 @tasenwiththerobots @tblsomedoodles @thegunnsara @triona-tribblescore @turrondeluxe @valen-timez @vangh17a @wraenata @zinovi768 @debb987 @dianagj-art @goatedgreen @indieyuugure

#Average Tumblr artists sleep deprivation #Sleep survey #Survey #If I had put at least half the effort I put into this survey into learning I wouldn't need to do a retake of my finals #Hyperfixiation is kicking HARD #that escalated quickly

[itsjaywalkers]

hi lovey how are you <3

it's late—like,,,4am late—and im somehow spewing out actual sentences BUT i have a question and i've been debating on how to start this whole thing so ill just say fuck it n get it out there—how do you keep up with all your wips??? bc like,,,,i've started writing, and i LOVE it. it's so fun to have these ideas finally out in word format instead of just stuck in my head.

but i have a really bad habit of starting smth n then...moving on to smth else when inspiration strikes. i occasionally go back to what i was originally writing, but even then it doesn't last long before im starting a whole new story 😭 im a little peeved as i've completely abandoned this one writing i slaved away at for days abt the backstory of one of my ocs—im somewhat proud of it n i don't want to just not get back into it.

as i write this, im currently staring at my laptop as i churn out yet another story of said oc (along with multiple other ocs myself n a friend made together) n im just,,,perplexed?? i suppose, on how so many fic writers keep up with all their wips.

i realize now that im just droning on n on so ill end here. writing is a bitch but also feels me with accomplishment when i do end up finishing smth, so i was just curious as to how you work around wips n things like that.

hello darling, i'm okay!! kinda dreading today's shift, but it is what it is. how are u tho??

and to be honest with u, i don't keep up with my wips like . at all . i do try to maintain some order, and sometimes i forbid myself from working on a story in favour of focusing on another one, but it doesn't always work, and there are times in which i really want to work on a fic even tho it's not a priority or supposed to be posted any time soon. but still, i try not to beat myself up over it, bc fanfiction is a hobby and something that i do for fun!! it shouldn't feel like a chore, so even if i do want to keep a schedule or alternate between wips so i can have some resemblance of balance, it's not really necessary, or even possible, considering the amount of wips i have lmao. it's our work and our writing, we're free to never finish anything if we don't want to, or to write 13847872648 fics at the same time, or to write only one for the rest of our lives. there are no rules or a right way to go about it yk??? i totally get the need to . focus on just one project, or at least be able to finish something, anything, but it'll happen at some point, i promise, and u should never force yourself, especially when it comes to an activity u do bc u love it and enjoy it

it's different if we talk about original fiction or original characters.. at least in my case!! i didn't get into writing fanfic until a few years ago, but i've been writing original stories since i can remember!! in fact there's this one i'm very slowly making progress with, that i came up with back when i was 17, and that i really want to . finish someday and hopefully try and publish it. for me, and when i'm really passionate about a project, like with this one, i do . force myself to not write anything else . it's inevitable to get new ideas, so i write them down, i make pinterest boards and even outlines, and occassionally, i also start them, write a lil of them when i need a break or to scratch the itch. but otherwise i just . do my best to stick to the one that i really love and i'm the proudest of. i do tend to hyperfixate and obsess a lot, so it's not THAT hard for me, bc even if i do get distracted sometimes, i always come back to this story. especially since i've been working on it for almost 5 years now, and i know it like the back of my hand. i could write three prequels and four sequels lol

so really, i don't think there's a right or wrong way to go about this. one of my best friends, and a writer i quite admire, jumps from a wip to another all the time, and also struggles to finish a story, but she just . trusts the process . lets herself have fun and write whatever she wants every day . it's been a while since she last finished something but she isn't too worried yk?? she enjoys what she does, and what matters is that she keeps writing. every person is different, and the way they approach writing is, too!!

my advice is to try and find out what works best for u and to stop beating yourself up over something that might be out of ur control. if u have this one story that's really important to u and that u really wanna finish, then maybe ur gonna have to practise some self-discipline, and force yourself a little, forbid yourself from getting distracted with these other shiny new ideas. but if doing that ruins the whole thing for u and sucks the fun out of writing then . take it one day at a time, focus on something different each day, and start 4 stories in the same week. it doesn't matter babe!! writing is an art, there's not a correct way to do it!!

#sorry if this wasn't very helpful i'm never the best person to ask about writing.. #but i'm wishing u the best <333 #and i'm sure all ur stories are lovely #regardless of you finishing them or not #sending u a big hug #asks #s tag #on writing

[sungbeam]

YOU?? SHOULD NOT BE AWAKE?? it’s like midnight or past midnight 😟 go to bed soon pls. but yes i am SO into riptide and i am eagerly awaiting the next chapter. ur doing so well good job make sure not to feel pressured or anything, take ur time! dw too much abt it, i’m sure it’s good if ur writing it ;D

i can understand, i don’t have a good attention span either. any time i tried writing a series, i’d give up in the middle bc it was too exhausting to try and make every chapter as long as the previous one, or i just lost interest and got burnt out. it’s very common tbh, i don’t like it </3

sexy blog havers!! the blog is made and ready but i’m currently working on finishing up this one short series i had an in my head, like my debut or whatever lol. i only need to write one more until i start posting. i’ll let u know when it’s up! we can be bffs. my friends are telling me the blog looks so intimidating, it’s so funny — v.

U SHOULD NOT BE TALKING IM SORRY WHAT WAS THAT "it's almost 1am over here time zones r crazy lol" OR SMTH LIKE THAT??!!

anyways 😮‍💨🤥

I'll prob *unexpectedly* drop the riptide chapter an hour earlier than I have it scheduled in my queue tomorrow/today (in thirty min) as per usual bc I'm impatient like that

Lol I have commitment issues w fics and I'm TRYING SO HARD to break the habit 😭😭 istg I'm gonna finish riptide, if I don't, pls knock some sense into me :D

BUT PLS HMU W THAT SEXY BLOG V 😫😫

#sungbeam strikes again #v <3 #i want that user!!! #moots lesgo?? #sleep is for the weak #but i am weak #so i shall sleep :')

[yourpreciouslilbub]

park woo jin ft lee dae hwi pt. 1 (random imagines)

member: park woo jin ft. lee dae hwi

genre: fluff, au

warnings: wrong grammar, cringiness (read at ur own risk)

summary: daydreaming about changing lives by imagining having swapping bodies with a celebrity

• y/n is so done with her life.

• online classes just make her behavior worst and tired than having face to face.

• tends to isolate herself from her main accounts not minding chats and notifications.

• it's not that you don't care or mind about other people, you just don't feel communicating lmao

• prefer spending time by spazzing, watching k-dramas, or playing.

• on a night with a full moon, hearing those unstoppable sounds of dogs in your neighborhood.

• y/n suddenly thinks of having a different kind of life she has.

• kinda corny but wishes to experience those (be careful what you wish for)

• being weird and an overthinker she just let it pass, finally decides to sleep.

• next morning came, y/n wakes up with a bright vivid light that comes from the window.

• slowly progressing what happened on the verge of 'your mind is still asleep'

• a loud 'bugsh' was heard when you fall from your bed

• white long curtains, teddy bears and other cute stuff, a mini piano with lots of music sheets scattered on it,

• colorful post-it that you also read, "you can do it" "well done." "fans are waiting for you" "love myself too" "music is hard but it's all worth it".

• and a sweet smell of vaporized candles lingers around the room.

• y/n is amused yet nervous especially when he heard the door opens.

• "daehwi-yah we will eat now, what are you doing there on the floor? still asleep?"

• woong said, questioning y/n then laugh before closing the door.

• ofc you know him. it's woong the main vocalist and fake maknae of the k-pop group that you've been stanning since their debut ab6ix.

• confused still half-awake y/n decided to check her face by looking at the mirror (more like a routine or habit daehwi does lol every morning)

• "oh my god" y/n said in Korean that made her more shocked.

• purple pajamas with messy hair but still looking handsome on it is the image that you saw in front of the mirror.

• "how did this happen?" eyes are both wide open checking if this is freaking real.

• still not syncing into reality you decided to pounder thoughts

• when you heard the other members yell daehwi's name

• so your feet take you to the familiar and at the same time unfamiliar kitchen of ab6ix.

• "why are you so weird today, daehwi-yah?" woojin asked sending his signature sparrow gaze into you.

• you suddenly feel the urge to curse bcs first you are star-struck, second, it's bared face ab6ix your idols, third park woo jin is freaking asking you why daehwi is weird, lastly, daehwi is your bias and you are in his body?

• can't process the whole information, so you just shrugged at woojin's question then sit on the empty chair beside donghyun.

• everyone is busy chit-chatting while you just eat your food silently.

• the next hours went by smoothly except those kakao messages that came from other celebrities that you know too (daehwi being a social butterfly)

• and when your manager calls you for dance and vocal practice today along with the other members

• ofc you are nervous you don't sing and dance, and daehwi's prob professional especially when writing songs how are you supposed to do that?

• with cold hands you and the other members enter the practice room.

• woojin leads it and play a warm-up song first.

• y/n is very nervous but amused at how daehwi's body moves along the beat.

• you enjoyed vocal lessons too as you kept making vibrations on the songs.

• little you did know that woojin is observing you since this morning (y'all know that park woojin is the member whose daehwi are most close with so)

• you let out a big sigh when the classes are finally over but immediately taken aback when manly arms wrapped around your shoulders.

• "we should talk," woojin murmured then drag you until you two reach his room.

• woojin's room is a combination of black and white a typical minimalist person would love this adding his collection of action figurines.

• he's so manly, you thought to yourself.

• "daehwi-yah, spill it," he said breaking the silence between the two of you.

• "i-uh is there something that i s-should spill?" you want to slap yourself for stammering in front of him.

• while he gave you his 'oh pls btch stop acting like you don't know anything at all'

• when he realized that you don't have any plans to answer his question

• "YAHHHH PARK WOO JIN"

• "see? daehwi is not like that," he said while crossing his arms in front of you.

• did park woo jin literally brought his face closer to the point that you two could kiss and thinking of it happened a few moments ago made your face red like a tomato.

• "daehwi's not minding it but you— who are you?"

• y/n's heart suddenly beats faster than normal, she wants to defend herself but no words would escape from her lips.

• "sweetie, don't be afraid it's just me park woo jin" he said smiling showing his snaggletooth.

• intimidated. that's what you're feeling right now. seeing him this close makes your heartbeat wild adding that he's interrogating you.

• you didn't have a choice it's now or never so you told woojin everything.

• at first he didn't believe it but when he challenged you to make simple sentences for lyrics he started to believe you.

• months past like that, woojin is there guiding you every time he sees that you prob gonna ruin smth

• y/n and woojin always spend time a lot together after rehearsals, practices, classes, gym, or even if you don't have anything scheduled for the day.

• you know him for being clingy with daehwi as you always watch their behind clips but damn having skinship with woojin really hits different

• it made your heart flutter every time he does it (but u only keep it to yourself)

• he kisses you sometimes on your cheek when you two are alone

• that's how park woo jin and y/n became close.

• today y/n is super hype bcs she saw the first snow

• woojin messaged you on kakao stating that he has a surprise so you two agreed to meet

• knowing him, maybe it's another prank or somehow something nice happen for him to celebrate it

• so you decided to wear daehwi's purple balenciaga sweater partnered with burberry coat and ofc his favorite dior bag that you can't forget to bring with

• you really like to dress up that's why you don't find it hard to style daehwi bcs daehwi already have a lot of designer clothes that made it easier for you

• before heading out, you sprayed daehwi's saint laurent perfume enjoying your personal favorite scent among his collection

• "y/n, you're late" woojin called as he waves at you.

• "i am not, you're just early" you rolled your eyes at him realizing that he wears his balenciaga pack again.

• others would find it weird but you call it 'pack' bcs his overall fashion is all balenciaga and it makes you roll your eyes more at him bcs you already know that he's freaking rich

• does he want to slap on my face that he could buy this entire house just for me to say that he's freaking rich? you thought.

• woojin pulled your wrist making you sit beside him

• it's not that you feel awkward with him, what's with the pulling and the intense gaze that he gives you right now

• y/n can't look straight at woojin bcs of her wildly beating heart.

• woojin held your chin so that you could have an eye to eye contact and when you two have—

• "woojin i—"

• "y/n i—"

• you both said at the same time.

• when you broke eye contact and decided to stand up woojin stop you but this time he held your hand.

• he stands up filling the gap between the two of you

• y/n stand there froze don't know what to do

• again woojin approach you, slowly, pulling you closer to him (tho there's not that much diff abt hwi and woojin's height)

• "i like you, y/n" he said while seriously looking into your eyes

• and like instructions that you follow to do, next thing you knew you found yourself closing your eyes waiting for his lips to touch with yours

• but you suddenly feel dizzy,

• then started to feel hot, mixed emotions.

• "y/n?" "y/n?"

• you open your eyes finding yourself in front of your monitor having online classes

• "y/n, show us your talent now"

• you don't know what to feel, felt crying bcs finally you are now back with your original body, happy bcs woojin confessed to you a while ago, sad bcs you can't see and bond with them now, and there's a big question mark on why and how you returned in the time of your online classes.

#park woojin imagines #park woojin scenarios #park woojin au #lee daehwi scenarios #lee daehwi imagines #wanna one imagines #ab6ix #ab6ix imagines #wanna one

[neonwizardheehee]

since today seems to be a day of  rants have another one:

I don’T know why I still can’t bring myself to work.

am I just too lazy? in my mind all will be fine when in reality i haven’t written smth good.... thought it might be bc i don’t have ANY pressure. with my thesis i had smth at least and my sis and irl friends to keep me up. and now i obv dont. idk why it doesnt work online as well as it used to. mayeb I’m too goot at tricking my brain? have i come too accustomed to doing nothing?  i thought about shutting down my phone for a few hours but... insta is still on my laptop accessible T.T and it feels weird to not have it open. but i guess that’s smth i can work on - to be present in going “offline” and work. as much as i love being online 24/7.... i cannot focus properly like this i have to acknowledge that and focus on fixing that. bc i know i love uni ... so why am i not doing it? it’s not even that i have too mcuh stuff going on ... so it had to be the fact itself that i’m being “online”. 

- > be THERE for going offline

next thing is food...again i know and i hate it

i thought i had put my ed behind me.... learned better ways and accepted my body as it is. well.. joke’s on me bc as of now I’m at my lw for 7 years or smth. and i didn’t even diet. but i know that I’m eating shitty. bc of my t1d i don’T really have an appetite anymore (meaning i don’T pay it any attention) but now i don’T even get hungry. I can’T eat as much as i used to...which was a low normal amount i’d say. so yes it’s bad. and usually it fixes itself once i recongized this and figured out how to not do that anymore. not this time tho????? I’m tired all the time, I don’t have motivation or strength to do anything. I’m afraid to do sports T.T i don’t want that!!! last year it took me half a year to healthily loose 3kg and now when i think... i might’ve even lost more in the last 2 T.T that is so so scray T.T i wanted to do research and one tiktok kicked me even more back into that ed fear. tbh i just want to cry. i don’t want to loose my energy! why am i so afraid of doing sports? idk why i just can’T bring myself to eat - i fucking love eating???? coffee and sometimes cheese is the only thing i look forward to sometimes - the rest is just “ugh i gotta eat” T.T that is not me - that never was me T.T why now huh? T.T  shit is so personal i dont even know who and what to ask tbh... i’m so scared and i don’t even know why T.T maybe it’s a mental thing? 

the last month kicked me really mentally with the semester ending, me missing my friends, me recognizing how bad 2021 will be and how much of my usual self i lost bc i can’T bring myself to do the things i used to love. T.T 

tbh the only thing that keeps me happy is talking to my girl and making memories with her. altho the missing is real - that’s new for me too and maybe i’m reacting more badly than i thought. or i just got too much into my head with all the ffs i’m reading as a coping mechanism. maybe watching gotham fucked me up more then i imagined. who knows. not me.

today i downloaded and food tracker app again and i already want to cry. bc i wanted to hurt myself more i checked the history of that app and wow I’m sad again. idk why IDK WHY this is happening. pls let me just work on my papers and enjoy my time with my girl???? why do i have such sad thoughts? T.T 

when i tried to explain my uni problem to my parents they said to make myself a schedule and goals - and i wanted nothing more than to cry bc i know i cannot do that.

i think i’m slowly realizing that for me life before was better - before everyone cared about mental health - u only had to be a functioning human and be the best . that was smth i liked to do and i was good at it. now after the issues kept piling up and got names.... it get’s more scary for me since i find excuses to be not-functioning. whether it’s uni, t1d or sports .. practically anything T. T

now everything seems like a chore i can do but don’t have to do. and thus i don’T do it T.T how did i become like that? how can i change back? 

thing is idk what my problem is. so i cannot ask for help even tho i want to and i know sb would help me. but idk what to ask since i became too good in downplaying......everything???

the other thing is... i have so many good things in my life?????? why can’T i focus on them? why do i feel the need to be miserable? that doesn’t make sense to me!

so another idea i have to fix this is give myself a new task. and not a task i do for myself (like make myself food to eat) but to do smth for others again! seeing it as i work better when others have expectations for me and i work around them to fulfill that - i want to do that again. instead of putting off posting o insta i should bring myself to post again and good content at that. so tell me to cook u smth for dinner or bring wine for a night out - i can make sure to do my uni work before and have brought wine and food! even dressed up bc it’s smth for you! bc even if i don’T care - you do and i should use that for myself. 

i want to be powerful and cool again - and i want to be really proud of my achievements and not bc i got lucky or know the right people and are manipulative enough to make people say what i want to hear :P

(fun fact: while writing this i had “my demons” had been playing in the beginning and in the end it was “when you’re evil” so that prob explains a lot hahahah XDDD no I’m onto Alaska Thunderfuck so HELL YES BIICHES)

#idk where i wanted to go with that at all #ig i just needed to write that out #at least i feel better now that it's out #personal rant

[autisticstarseed]

👐 Hand washing guide when you have sensory issues 👐

tbh. we shouldve been talking abt this a long time ago for many disabled ppls sake but ive put this post off for like a million years out of pure solidified fear of ableist harassment/kneejerk ignorance and also generalized cringe idiots but now that we got so much covid-19 fear and autistic ppl actually tend to have weaker immune systems than most people lets jump the shark;;;

i have autism and i physically struggle with washing my hands as often as i want to, having wet hands, drying them, the temperature difference, bad soap smells/textures, etc. are all genuinely painful. the good news is that ive dealt with water aversion shit since birth (its a common sensory issue), so ive had time to figure out alternatives and coping skills that still help reduce risk of disease and spreading it in ways that i can personally manage. (ie. not lazy or selfish or gross. genuinely putting more effort into this every day task than most other people would even think about. just disability lads) so heres the guide i have to offer if you’re in a similar boat, with some keypoints about hand hygiene and tips addressing the most common sensory struggles ive noticed with it;;;

1. hand sanitizer

i love hand sanitizer, i can get it in almost any scent i want and it dries down very very fast. the problem is; hand washing and hand sanitizer do different things. it only kills certain types of germs. which is all fine and dandy, but because of this, using only hand sanitizer wont actually keep you from catching or spreading many illnesses. so what its good for is times you cant wash your hands (out in public, sensory overload, no spoons, etc), thats fine, but it should not replace all hand washing if at all possible. it is supposedly effective to covid-19, but so little is currently known that it should not be considered your go to for this, and the only unanimous statement straight from the CDC is that hand washing works best at preventing its spread.

temperature - if you have trouble with it being too cold, conveniently keeping it in your pocket or closely against your body in some way warms it up and makes it much more comfortable. 

scent - they come in almost any scent you can imagine, but if you have trouble with strong scents, there are ‘scentless hand sanitizers’. they usually have a faint chemical smell, so if there are any testers available, you should check to make sure it can work for you before you buy it.

texture - if gel doesnt cut it, they also make foamy hand sanitizers and liquid sprays, but theyre harder to find and might be a little more pricey.

and remember; always buy hand sanitizer that says it contains AT LEAST 60% alcohol, the higher alcohol content the better, but try to keep track of how high it is and how much you apply it so you dont dry your skin out. and right now price gouging is pretty bad, so dont be surprised if you cant find any for a while, and dont buy any small bottle that costs over a couple dollars, its a rip off.

2. hand washing 

so what does hand washing do thats better than sanitizer??? soap and water lift up the dirt and oils that are carrying the germs and actually wash them off, and not only that, it also gets rid of all the things sanitizer cant, such as dust/dirt, spores, chemicals, and the previously mentioned viruses that are harder to kill. ik to an outside perspective it might not seem that hard, but obviously when you have autism and these tasks are split down into bigger ordeals and sensory nightmares, it can feel impossible. 

soap - there are so many different kinds of soap! scentless soaps exist, and they very rarely have any lingering chemical smell! theres also soap for sensitive skin, and baby soap also works well for that issue. bar soaps can come in all different shapes and sizes, with many different ingredients and additives to choose from (independent soap makers are an amazing source for customized soap btw), and liquid soaps can be pure gel, frothy, mousse-y or even have tiny exfoliating or moisturizing beads in them if thats a sensory experience you enjoy. this is my number one rec for people struggling with hand washing bc of sensory issues;;; mix up the soap. finding one that gives you an okay or even a GOOD sensory experience can completely turn around an otherwise meltdown inducing task

temperature - this is the one thats always been hardest for me. cold water straight up hurts me, and our plumbing is Terrible, so the trick i have for slow pipes is to run the hot water on high as Soon as i get into the bathroom. leave it going and by the time you’re done there should be at least lukewarm water. if this still takes too long for you, try out the various sinks in your house, usually one is able to get hot water faster than the rest (for me its the kitchen sink) and that can become a designated station for you if need be.

texture - some ppl just hate water. if thats the case, it rly doesnt change much abt the process if you use less water, ie work the soap into a lather, and then only use as much as you need to rinse it off. you dont have to keep your hands under the whole time, the soap clings to the dirt, the water takes it off all together, as long as you scrub well and rinse till you see no suds, you’re good 

If it really comes down to it, a washcloth with water+soap, a disinfecting wipe, or even literally just a rinse with plain ol water is better than nothing, but the stream of water and act of rubbing the soap in is the most effective combo against disease. soap/disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizers are your second best option. if theres a time in your life where an issue is so disabling for you that you truly cant keep any of this up, rly the most important thing is to limit your direct physical contact with your face and commonly used objects as MUCH as possible until you can figure smth out. (you kno those old ladies that grab a wipe and open the doorknob with it between their hand and the knob? become that old lady) and if push comes to shove, if a safe and accepting therapy setting is something accessible to you, hygiene struggles are actually something many mental health professionals understand Very well and can help you cope with personally and directly, without shame.

3. hand drying

this is also. my personal hell. and what most people say is the hardest part of the sensory experience. but ya cant just walk around with wet hands right

towels - the obvious choice for most, but to me they actually dont dry enough. i always end up damp and with lint stuck to me. this kills the man. but hand towels do have some variety to them, you can find em with really long fibers or really short/flat, really fuzzy or really stiff, etc. sounds silly but its smth a lot of ppl dont think about that can change a lot. you can also try super absorbent towels (yes like a shamwow), and again baby bath towels are also an option if you want something gentle.

paper towels - yeah a little more wasteful and expensive, but imo much more absorbent. theyre also pretty thin so you can get between your fingers (MY BANE), and under your nails if you use a corner. 10/10

blow drying - ik this is the kind of shit you only see in like movie theaters and malls and they are definitely LOUD AS SHIT, but if you happen to have the money, and struggle more with Textures than Noise, ie a stream of warm air seems worth the sound, you Can actually find a small basic one of these items for your own home. 

4. public restrooms

everybody hates em!!! but you can make em more tolerable;;;

soap - bring your own! little travel soaps you can keep in your bag are a godsend for ppl with sensory issues, sensitive skin/allergies, and if you just prefer not sharing soap.

temperature - most public places i notice actually do get hot water pretty fast (like,,, too fast,,, like,,, it bur ns me) so if there are no faucets and its too hot or too cold, once again you can try different sinks and one might be more comfortable. if there are faucets i recommend grabbing a paper towel to turn it off, so you dont have to touch it again with your clean hands.

sound - WHY R AUTOMTIC FLUSH TOILETS SO FUCKEN LOUDD..... honestly if you have noise cancelling earmuffs or earplugs or w/e pop em in. if you dont have any of that i just literally plug my ears with my fingers when i stand up. if you struggle with the sound of the blow dryers, they almost always have paper towels as well, but its a great idea to carry something like that around in your bag with you just in case. if its really packed and people chattering is getting to you, sometimes the ‘family’ bathrooms are actually smaller and less full. if its bad enough and you feel comfortable asking, an employee might be able to direct you to a single stall bathroom or at least a different one than that.

and though its convenient, try not to use your sleeve to touch things like doorknobs, toilet handles, etc. instead use something disposable like a paper towel or wipe, bc the germs will simply transfer to your sleeve and still risk infecting you. 

5. schedule

the number one suggestion is to wash your hands literally as often as possible during a time like this but like. even for allistic/nt/abled/ ppl thats just not always an attainable schedule so the Best times to wash your hands are;;;

after using the bathroom - the most important time and generally the easiest to get used to. its smth you have to do multiple times a day that already has a schedule, and if you were to forget or go into sensory overload its usually immediately accessible as soon as you can. as i mentioned earlier, if you need help remembering, you can turn the water on when you first get in and leave it going.

the doctors - ANY KIND of health facility should be avoided right now unless really necessary, places where sick people would frequent is the quickest way to get sick but like. ya rly cant help it sometimes right. you cant stop dealing with your own illnesses just bc theres another one floating around. so, this is time to go apeshit on the handwashing. if your health issue involves coughing and sneezing, ask for a face mask. bring a scarf in case they dont have any, its not as great but better than nothing. otherwise, you honestly dont need it, face masks are more for these people bc they keep germs in better than out. whether you’re worried abt getting sick or infecting others, this is a time to use hand sanitizer, avoid physical contact like shaking hands [autistic cheering], and when you first arrive and right before you go to leave are the most important times to remember to wash your hands. 

preparing food - not as commonly spoken about, but also easy to work into a schedule. i personally dont care unless its food for somebody else or if im going to be putting my hands on it a lot, but if thats the case, a lot of the time thats produce you already want to wash in the sink, so you can kill two birds with one stone there. dont just get the germs off your own hands, get em off the fruits and veggies before you eat em. carpool

after grocery shopping - not very common. most ppl just slap some sanitizer/a wipe on there or dont think abt it at all, but if you just got home from walmart thats a great time to wash. you just touched a bunch of items other people touched, including the cart, money/credit cards, and all the products people will pick up and put back, so its prime germ time babey. But again, sanitizer or a wipe will help if its all you can manage after a trip out like that.

before self care - also uncommon. ppl always say ‘dont touch your face’ and ‘apply this product with clean hands’, and what they mean is that one of the fastest ways germs get into your system is through your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. if you’re simply washing your face theres not as much concern, but applying a mask, moisturizer, makeup, etc. should all be done after a gentle rinse of your hands (and face). very hard to get into the schedule of, but if you consider it a Part of your ‘self care’ or use a special fun cleanser, it can stick a little easier.

6. stim items

STIM ITEMS!! if you have stim items, its a good idea to clean them regularly, but even moreso during an outbreak like this.

rubber/plastic - if it goes in your mouth, hot water (not hot enough to melt!) and dish soap, if it doesnt, look up how to safely make a diluted bleach solution.

silicone - silicone is usually dish washer safe.

fabric - if its light, add bleach to the washing machine, if its colored, you can use white vinegar or hydrogen peroxide which are less likely to discolor any dyes. lysol detergent is also super great. small items you’re worried about losing, or items with details/loose parts, you can usually wash inside of a sealed pillow case. 

‘squishies’ - for ‘mochi’ squishies aka the rubbery ones, soap and water + some dusted baby powder or corn starch (optional) to keep it from grabbing lint for a while. for foam squishies, they can rarely be deep cleaned without the risk of growing mold or taking paint off, but a disinfecting wipe every now and then should keep it clean for a while.

slime - cant be disinfected, sorry. also a breeding ground for mold if you arent careful, so its always best to cycle through these quickly.

technology - cant really be completely sterilized, but there are many places to get sprays and cleaning wipes for the devices you use that can at least keep the areas your hands frequently touch a little cleaner.

BUT of course if your item comes with instructions on how to wash it, always follow that instead. this is just a general idea.

and as a final note;;; disabled ppl should not feel guilty or dirty for struggling with this. like. man idc abt ur cringe feels or your ignorant blame or your lack of understanding/sympathy for what goes into these tasks for us. if u dont wanna get our struggles and sensitivities when we’re working twice as hard on functioning tasks which personal ease you take for granted, thats on you. @ disabled people if you struggle with maintaining the same standard of hygiene as nts you arent gross or bad fucking person, you’re disabled and by definition that means your level of functioning will be different, and you deserve sympathy. its just that germs dont discriminate, they wanna cause problems for everybody involved (especially you!!!), so Anything you can manage is Great and if anything from this post can help make it a little easier for people in any way, i feel its absolutely necessary to talk about with respect and dignity. people with autism/adhd/sensory processing disorder/similar neurodivergencies/literally anybody else this could benefit, pls feel free to add on any tips you might have or send me questions. let disabled ppl help disabled ppl do our personal bests

#nt/allistic ppl can totally reblog btw!! just dont clown like thats literally all i ask man cuz tbh #im trying to help ppl form a hygiene habit while my nd struggle was ignored and worsened by ppl being shitty to me so to be blunt ig #im helping people by giving alternatives and coping skills and all ur doing is being ableist and expecting ppl to 100% conform so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #whos really the ...~~~~~ pro recovery~~~~ one. here #hint its me sit down rude ass #long post #im scared to put in nd tags but sjgsjddsj we're JUMPIGN THE SHARK #sensory processing disorder #spd #autism #actuallyautistic #asd #adhd #sensory overload #original

[scary-lasagna]

So-- I'm thinking of starting my own CP blog, but I'm not sure if I should... I really like your content and I'm sorry if this comes off as weird but do you have any advice?

adgasjsajf I’m still babey when it comes to having a blog, I’ve only been on like two months or so, but I do have some advice!

But something that helped me was to make a deadline for your asks if you’re a procrastinator like me. I got a lil agenda and everything uwu.

Also don’t use queue unless you know how to use it, I had to reschedule so much bc I added something to queue when i already had stuff scHeDULeD-

In conclusion, I’m a mess when it comes to queueing

Also don’t write in the tumblr app, if the page refreshes for some reason or if your computer dies, you’ll lose all of your work. Use a writing app like Grammarly or Word that auto-saves.

I may be traumatized by loosing that one v long ask

Don’t worry about posting too much at once. That really held me back in the beginning bc my insecurities felt like I was bothering people or smth (which is dumb as hecc idek why i thought that)

A wise blog once told me in the context of worrying about posting too much, “If they don’t like it then tell them to suck my left tiddie” and i live by that.

And don’t let certain asks intimidate you, just start writing. Idc if it’s shit at first, that’s why there's a backspace button of the keyboard. It’s better to have something to work with than a blank sheet/document.

And you're not obliged to answer anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or anything that you think would make others feels uncomfortable.

Love what you write and be confident. There’s not really a solid canon for the CP fandom, so you can really just go nuts with your own headcanons and such.

But honestly, just write. Get your ideas down and go from there, your hands will do the rest.

Also if you do make your own blog, I’d be happy to share it on here!

[langst-wins]

the last thing i'm gonna say about voltron, unintentional queerbaiting, and major s8 plotholes, and then imma shut up and let y'all be free from my long bitch ass s8 posts so we can get back to regularly scheduled klance fanfics & fanarts

yes, they queerbaited us with shiro as rep. not in the sense that he wasn't queer but in the sense that they hyped us up for his relationship with adam, made us think we were gonna see an adashi reunion, and we ended up getting like 90 seconds top of LGBT content over the entire series.

no, I highly doubt they did it intentionally. yes, they did admit they fucked up and apologized several times. yes, I appreciate the apology and I understand that they're human beings and people make mistakes and overlook things sometimes. like they said, they never meant to make anyone feel baited. they really thought they were going to get a good response. lauren called voltron a "learning experience" in the open letter to the fandom after s7. I think she meant learning experience in general ofc but I think she also meant they've learned how to and how not to do LGBT rep in a show.

but I will absolutely be taking any promises of LGBT rep from lm and jds with a grain of salt. i will absolutely be watching their future works from afar and not getting myself too invested until the series ends and I can watch it as a whole while knowing what to expect.

I dont think they MEANT harm but y'all...they fucked up. they know it, and they apologized. it shows maturity that they apologized in that open letter after s7 and at the final nycc panel, and again, I appreciate that.

but I would rather they have not said anything about LGBT rep, ever, and just let gay shiro be a nice surprise. then, the minimal rep we received would have been wonderful and a nice warm surprise instead of a huge disappointment. it was only a disappointment because it didn't live up to the hype they made for it. and I know the hype was partially due to marketing they had no control over, but it was absolutely partially them, too.

they didn't promise LGBT content in LoK and canon korrassami ended up being a nice surprise even though it was minimal. that was how they SHOULD have done shiro's sexuality if they knew it was going to be a small thing. I would rather they have kept their lips zipped about LGBT, not announced gay shiro ahead of time, and just it be what it was when seasons 7 and 8 came out.

again, I dont think the bait was intentional, but it was bait all the same.

you are not crazy or too sensitive if your feelings are hurt/you feel baited by this show. you are not a shitty person if you just dont trust them right now. dont let people tell you otherwise. it's okay to take a step back from their work and wait to see how their next show plays out before you get involved.

i really do love voltron, even though s8 was confusing af, seasons 1-7 were LIT. I enjoy bits and pieces of s8 but mostly it was a let down. not only because of rep, just because a lot of things didn't make sense to me and a lot of the problem solving just felt way too convenient.

like I feel like every conflict in the plot was resolved way too easily and/or in ways that didnt make sense. and I feel like most of the characters' futures in the credits didnt really match up to those characters personalities. specifically lance, hunk, and keith.

lance staying on earth with his family, spreading allura's message to carry on her legacy? makes perfect sense, valid af. lance becoming a farmer? not so much. I feel like he would have been better suited as teaching classes as a pilot instructor at the garrison or smth similar. altean lance still gave me whiplash and left me confused af but he looks so damn 👌👌👀👀🙌🙌😭 with his cute ass altean marks that I'm just gonna let that one go for the sake of aesthetic.

hunk becoming a chef? not ooc necessarily but I feel like he would have been better suited as a diplomat. y'know. ambassador to earth sort of thing.

keith aiding in recovery efforts and being a humanitarian (...alien-itarian...? idk). okay let's be real we all knew this edgy boi has a soft ass heart. I think hes just mature enough now to let his walls come down and not be afraid of caring ig. which is sweet and nice and all. but I feel like he wouldnt...JUST be doing that. like he would still want the battle and the adrenaline and the badass mf fight sequences. that's kinda his Thing.

shiro marrying a rando? I would have preferred adam to not die and them end up getting back together once shiro returned to earth. i just feel like there was no reason to kill off adam? shiro has already suffered so much, what was the point? but i'm not gonna hate on curtis bc we dont know jackshit about him and for all we know he could be a bombass dude. shiro looked happy tho and it's better than him being forever alone so I can hesitantly accept that ig. but on one condition and one condition only: their ship name must be shirts. if their ship name is not shirts then I dont want it

allura's death was pointless. i havent seen anyone disagree with this one so far. her life was full of suffering and then she died. like can we all just agree she was done dirty and it was entirely unnecessary.

dont come @ me with "you just dont like s8 bc your ship wasnt canon"

that's not it at all.

they could have made this season so amazing and still not have made klance canon. they could have left me disappointed in no klance but still happy because the finale made my heart go dynamite BOOM. I could have ended the last episode with no canon klance and still been smiling because the plot was bitchin' and the characters were all alive and happy.

but they didnt, so I wasnt. it just...wasnt a good season. it had good aspects, yes, but as a whole? meh.

season 8 was poorly handled. it really was. it had so much potential to end with EVERY character having a positive ending and still have an actual satisfying conclusion to the war. I know they wanted to show how heavy and serious and heartbreaking the war actually was, but you can make an emotional, heavy finale without killing off a main character and leaving her main character love interest lonely and grieving. like im sorry killing allura and leaving lance sad and lonely was not necessary at all to the plot it just flat out wasnt. they did those characters dirty and they did allurance shippers even dirtier.

allurancers cheered seeing their ship canon then had it ripped out from under them and my heart honestly grieves worse for my allurance and allura stan fam than my klance fam. they did y'all so wrong and i'm sorry it had to go down like that.

sheith shippers got fucked over when all that development and relationship and growth culminated into basically nothing in the final season. like as a broganes stan even i was taken aback by the sudden radio silence between them so I cant imagine how let down actual sheith shippers feel.

us adashi shippers? obvious. adam's death was not necessary. and dont tell me it was to show the heaviness and realness of death in war because vld does NOT have a track record of dead characters staying dead. they could have at least gave us some mild development with shirts (lmfao im so sorry but shirts) and let us see more of curtis as a character. like...literally just two 60 second scenes would have been nice. they could have easily fit that in.

us klancers got fucked over by unnecessary parallels to canon ships. they could have made it a cute platonic friendship in s8 and let us enjoy it and proceed to enjoy fanon klance without all those blatant parallels to shay/hunk that just left us confused. and the parallels in earlier seasons. like why did you have to make so many parallels to romantic moments and romantic tropes if it was platonic. why did you have to go and do that. what was the point.

s8 could have ended in such a way that shippers of every ship in the fandom were satisfied with the finale because their faves were treated right and the plot was fire. it had so much potential in the first half and could have been so damn good.

it wasnt though. the entire thing was so confusing and nothing about it felt like vld. It feels like a spin off or a reboot. I dont like s8 as a whole and I doubt I ever will. it might grow on me in time but I'll never fully like it, y'know. everything about it felt so tilted and off and just wrong.

but it really just be like that sometimes ig.

#i wont be responding to comments on this #feel free to send an ask w your thoughts #but no promise i'll answer it #klance #voltron #sheith #allurance #adashi #vld

[ellvie]

ELVIE CROFT, twenty four years old. youtuber and ghost with the most on beloved emmy award winning netflix series ghost gallery. interests include horror movies, the 80s, halloween, and the absolute abomination that is black licorice. the smartest dipshit you’ll ever meet.

elvin tupelo croft. prefers elvie, but el is okay if you’re a close friend or family member. is extremely sensitive about the fact that he was almost named elvis after the famous musician because his dad is OBSESSED.

born in the salem, massachusetts on halloween day. descendant of an accused witch, son of an actual witch, and practices himself albeit casually. his dad is the county district attorney while his mom owns a small shop in town, so they were...lower middle class i guess. they always had enough to meet their needs, but couldn’t afford any extra spending or splurging. as he got older he’d go on to work small jobs around town, most notably as a janitor in the local movie theater. so no silver spoon or high horse here.

margo massey has been his best friend since birth. her maternal grandparents disowned her mom when she fell pregnant with margo, so elvie’s dad gave them some legal help and the rest is history. they’ve been best friends for longer than either of them can even remember, true ride or dies for life. if you don’t like margo then elvie doesn’t like you and that’s that on that. the antics of elvie croft and margo massey were famous in salem long before they were famous on netflix.

so he tried lots of different activities as a kid. he was a boy scout, he took music lessons, he was absolutely awful at tee ball, but nothing really stuck. he’s always had a lot of energy and a short attention span, so he gets bored of stuff pretty easily. 

something his parents and teachers would often notice about him was that he’s very smart. he’s a fast learner, one of those annoying types who seems to just do well in school and get perfect grades without even trying? that’s him. some people have even thrown around words like brilliant and genius. tbh they probably aren’t far off, but elvie hates being called smart to the point where he?? intentionally dumbs himself down 24/7 and passes it off as a joke

ofc that didn’t stop from being mercilessly bullied all throughout school. he had braces and glasses and chronic nosebleeds and didn’t play any sports and only had one friend who was picked on just as badly so he was definitely a favorite target of his peers.

fortunately elvie has much thicker skin than most people seem to realize. he doesn’t...really care what people think about him. at all. oh so what you don’t like him. he’ll have a good long cry about it while his emmy award is getting polished. not that he’s arrogant bc he honestly isn’t. it’s just that he knows his worth and your opinion of him isn’t going to change that.

he was fifteen when the rich & snobby abernathy family bought a huge summer home in salem and he met their daughter, astrea...it was love at first sight and to this day he’s never loved anybody else or even dated anybody else. their summer romance turned long distance when she went home in the fall. they were insistent upon not letting anything break them apart and aside from about a year where they weren’t together, nothing ever did. elvie croft has been dating the same girl since he was fifteen and just keeps falling more and more in love with her.

it should be noted that astrea’s parents absolutely hate him and they always have. he didn’t do anything except come from a poor no name family, which was more than enough for them, so elvie was resorting to climbing through her window and helping her sneak out in the middle of the night so they could see each other for even five minutes. it’s a regular romeo juliet story. how disgustingly lovesick and On Brand™ for them.

a year later he started his youtube channel at the age of sixteen with margo & the camera that he got for his birthday. it’s basically buzzfeed unsolved supernatural. he’s the believer, she’s the skeptic, and they go looking for ghosts! it was an instant hit. with every video posted they were gaining subscribers in the dozens, then the hundreds, then the thousands. they weren’t even in college yet and they were already two of the most popular & beloved names in youtuber fandom.

attended nyu once they did get to college. tbh elvie didn’t really wanna go?? he doesn’t like school, so he technically studied business and was top of his class as per usual, but he was mostly just there to party and hang out with margo and finally get to be with astrea all the time. he loves her so much like i can’t stress this enough.

too bad for him bc he got DUMPED in their last year of college. astrea broke up with him and then immediately went to saudi arabia for a year. he didn’t take it well at all, but fortunately he’d be distracted soon enough.

elvie and margo were approached by netflix producers who basically wanted to turn their youtube channel into a tv show which turned out to be a really smart move because ghost gallery is a HUGE HIT. everyone’s seen it. everyone loves it. no one can seem to shut up about it. basically think of the hype around stranger things and you’ll understand how much everyone loves ghost gallery.

they’ve put out two seasons so far & are just about to start filming for season three which is scheduled for a late october 2019 release and elvie absolutely loves his show so he couldn’t be happier about it!

and now for a few other fast facts bc i SOMEHOW feel like i haven’t covered everything yet!

loves horror movies, halloween, and scaring people. by the age of twelve he was getting full grown adults to scream and run away from him in terror while he just laughed and laughed bc it was the best thing ever to him.

it’s been a running joke all his life that he doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

his other major interest? everything 80s. tbh at least 90% of everything he’s ever said is an 80s movie reference, often too obscure for most people to even catch. 

he’s extremely rich bc he spends almost none of the money he earns from youtube and netflix. he grew up poor enough to have the mentality that he can’t just go around wasting money on whatever he wants even though he very well could without even making a serious dent in his bank account. at worst he might impulse buy some extra candy or smth but nothing more expensive than that

they type of eccentric genius who will solve a whole rubik’s cube in .0000000001 seconds like it’s nothing and act like it isn’t even a big deal bc he’s already distracted by something else entirely. it probs gives people a little whiplash tbh

PERSONALITY: elvie is nice, but he’s not for everyone. eccentric is probably the best word to describe him. he doesn’t do things the way everyone else does. he’s extremely hyperactive and very ~out there~ which is a combination that’s just Too Much for some people. he tends to come across as either witty and endearingly charming or loud and flat out annoying. so he’s kinda terrible at making friends but it doesn’t stop him from trying. in general he’s well liked if only bc almost everyone loves ghost gallery, but ofc there are outliers so pls feel free to hate him. tl;dr he’s completely harmless but maybe a little annoying, will just ramble at you for hours about ghosts and horror movies and the 80s and assume that you’re friends because of it.

CONNECTIONS

family

maternal cousin - willow sparks and alexandra blakely (distant)

paternal cousin, constant bickering - river espinoza

romantic

wife - astrea croft

unrequited crush - open

platonic

best friend, might bicker sometimes but ride or die 5ever - margo massey

acquaintances - torrance keynes, saywer duncan, open to more.

close friends - open to several.

family friends - rosalind cox, open to more.

friends -  jordan parkes, wren daily, reign monroe, sahar santini, genesis iver, ingrid larson, marialena goldstein.

online → irl friends - ginny baker

unlikely friends - eden o’ connor, open to more,

frenemies - beckley bovér, open to more.

negative

enemies - angel almeida, open to more.

bad terms - carson king, open to more.

ex friends - luna reyes, anastasia sangster.

he doesn’t tend to have a lot of enemies but whew he absolutely despises angel so if you like him then elvie probably doesn’t like you. 

#× ❪ ⸰ about elvie. ⸰ ❫ #this is an actual novel #anyway #this is basically a brand new intro #with his connections included #mostly filled but i figure that helps to figure out new stuff #feel free to message if you wanna plot or re plot #if you really read this whole thing #why

[wakkanaidream]

thinking abt the time i had to go to a kmart for my old inventory job two times in a week and had to see the guy who grabbed me by the neck for the first time since the incident. even though it had been almost two months and it was six in the morning, i remember the first moments i saw him again and can recall the emotions so much more clearly than any other time i can remember in years. and like those ten to fifteen minutes before we went our separate ways in the store put me in such a specific emotional state that i really have trouble describing it and still feel it whenever i come across the stuff i was posting in that short window of time. its some combination of anger, spite, paranoia (abt being assaulted again lol), intense hopelessness. idk its coming up again because im going through my pictures and found this picture of a koala on a baby toy’s packaging

and it threw me back to that morning where i worked by myself in a corner of the store so the two of us didnt interact. i think that might have been one of the first times i really understood how deeply this was gonna affect me. its partly because it was so similar to an assault i had experienced before that its so impactful, but thatt doesnt change the fact that this is the first time a man has so strongly enforced gendered expectations on me. it happened on the first day he ever saw me out of my work uniform and in feminine clothing, and he waited until there was no one else around before he grabbed me. the working theory is that he saw me as male and punished me for expressing femininity (esp in a work setting). and i worry that bc i lost weight when my ex left and i stayed in bed for two months, my jeans were loose and i didnt think to grab a belt since they werent loose before. and i worry he was able to see more of my body than i ever wanted him to see. & maybe that was part of his reasoning

& i also do this thing where i gaslight myself and say that im overthinking everything and that he was just trying to be friendly or smth. thats what i told my area manager when i filled him in on the incident a couple days later. i should really stop and let myself be angry. i ended up quitting over the stress the incident was causing me because i had to ask repeatedly to not be scheduled with him and they only respected my wishes when it was convenient for them. idk why im considering going back, probably my masochism coming out. but if they would actually respect my wishes this time, it would be way more convenient than looking for a new job (wouldnt have to re-explain my transness or worry about being forced to uncover my hair). + i actually liked the people i worked with, and if i have to exploit my own labor to survive then i might as well do a job that fits nicely with the way my brain works as this one did. i just need to fucking assert myself for once when it comes to my actual mental welbeing

yeah idk august wasnt a good month

#didnt mean for this to be so long or trauma filled #wanted 2 journal and this seemed like the easiest way to get my thoughts out #long post #abuse / #assault / #transmisogyny /

[nctsukashii-archive-blog]

hc + food & music bc I'm unoriginal™

Let me ramble about my son.

Nothing is too unoriginal! There can be something amazing even from the most simplistic of words! It only becomes unoriginal when you have a lot of the same things. Hence where such a statement comes from! But aside from that tangent I hope you like reading essays because I can never learn to shut the fuck up lol.

- FOODHoshi and food are an interesting combo. This mostly stems from his background in tennis, because surprise surprise, tennis still plays heavy in his life. So Hoshi can eat a shit ton of food like it’s practically nothing- it’s a skill developed over years, and how that skill came about is simple; tennis. If you don’t know, it’s VERY common for many athletes before practice or training to consume a lot of calories all at once to then burn it off all at once. It’s like, giving a campfire a shit ton of wood and then letting it all quickly burn away. It improves physique because you’re still working out, but also getting all the necessary energy to do that kinda stuff. So Hoshi ate a lot of food while growing up. A mix between fast food and regular made meals, with a lot of trips to restaurants while over in other countries.

Remember that he was international by middle school. Famous athletes can eat as much as 5,500+ calories a day, which doesn’t sound like a lot until you remember that the average man should be eating around 2000-3000 calories a day. Of course Hoshi isn’t average by any means, but that just means that he can have more infrequent eating habits. A normal 3 meals a day probably didn’t jive well with the average workout schedule for normal sized people, because it’s accustomed to our size and calorie output. Which means he had more time to stop and relax and eat more, for more rigorous workout / training regimes. I’ll get more into that later, because that can be it’s own separate post, but as a result Hoshi prolly had quite a bit of fast food in his life. Not because he and his team couldn’t afford to go to good restaurants or take time to make a good meal, but because of being an infrequent eater he probably had more-so around 4-5 meals a day just to fit with his practice and workout schedules. 

As a result, there were times where he had to make something fast, and that just so happened to maybe be buying a bucket of chicken and eating it before waiting a bit and going back out to the courts. It’s a guilty pleasure kind of thing, he’ll eat a lot of fast food and probably try to work it off just as fast, which isn’t hard given his body size and his usual performances on the court. In scenarios where he can’t work out as much physically, whether it be from depression or a different profession out of prison, there are moments where he’ll experience massive weight gain just by accidentally falling back into routine. Of course he’ll try his best to lose said weight in doing things like push-ups, crunches, jogging, etc. but it can be really hard sometimes. Overall, it’s a fall to habit more than anything, although he’s usually excellent at controlling himself to eat like a normal person nowadays.

That being said, prison destroyed a lot of his eating patterns when he first arrived, having now grown back to 3 meals a day, he also had to deal with being lethargic and unable to move while barely eating anything. It’s like imagining that same fare with barely any logs, and occasionally having a little gas dumped on it so it’ll keep burning. Very different from the glory days. He still keeps his big stomach though, that never went away, but he has grown to be more inactive if he plans not to eat much some days, whether that be from prison, mental illness, whatever. He can still eat a lot though, but will try to pace himself and not gain a lot of weight if he knows he won’t be able to lose it all quickly. 

(More under the cut because I will flood the dash if I don’t)

Although his favorite kind of food is honestly just anything homemade. After having prison food, ya know the good ol mystery meats, the fish that’s always too salty, the undercooked rice, the soup that tastes like water, all that fun stuff; it’s good to just get some food that doesn’t blow? Like a lot? Something cooked fresh from home is always a favorite. It gives him a healthy and wonderful nostalgia from times his mom cooked for him when he came home from tennis practice or after travelling international for weeks at a time. Nothing can compare to a good meal made by loved ones. 

Hoshi holds a preference for stronger flavors, just because his tongue was a bit destroyed by salted foods in prison. He likes things with stronger tastes, while not really hating but not preferring things that aren’t very taste-heavy. Of course he also knows not to hurt himself with things like spicy foods, but some seasonings or spices are well preferred in his meals.

But he also has quite a bit of a sweet tooth as well, able to eat candy often and sweets baked by his girlfriend. He can control himself decently when it comes to it, but it slips into his beverage preferences at times as well. Doesn’t really like the cool professional taste of coffee unless it’s filled with sugar, and he loves grape soda. Not that he hates water or anything like that, but sometimes he likes having some sweetness in his life.

- MUSICMusic is weird because he doesn’t ever really listen to music. Hoshi just never really felt a desire to listen to that kinda stuff when he was playing tennis, and when he wasn’t playing tennis he was either eating, sleeping, or relaxing with his cat on the couch or smth, so he just never really had a real reason to play a tune here or there. He’s not against music or anything, but silence can be comforting sometimes, especially after a long day of work. While silence can also be associated with the emptiness of prison, he does like the light sounds of ringing in the air or cats paws on the floor. Sounds, rather than music. 

He can enjoy light pieces though. Hoshi practically has the taste of a geezer because he loves slow and light music. Stuff that plays in the background as filler rather than anything meant to keep his attention. Just a preference when he performs daily activity. He likes being active despite what some could think, it’s just that prison has kinda forced a lethargic lifestyle onto him. Even then, he still likes to stand or walk around, so something he doesn’t have to really think about does wonders. Songs without lyrics are a plus, because it gives him something to not focus on- instead letting him just listen to the whole song and it’s melodies. He’s a simple guy at heart, but hey, it’s just who he is.

A lot of music preference is dictated by what he thinks is cool. Cool music would be stuff like piano solos, or pieces that really feel like people are putting energy into instruments. He has a load of respect for people that can play an instrument or instruments super well for multiple songs, because it’s a dedication of effort which he reflects back onto himself and tennis. He also is quite a fan of songs which fit his aesthetics. Deep guttural music that isn’t loud per say, but powerful. He’s not a fan of rock or screamo, but he does love a song with deep bass that shows strength in its tone and treble. It fits his bad boy image very well.

Although he does have a preference for romantic songs as well as anime intros. The romantic songs are obvious; he can relate to them well, but he’s a weeb as well considering he loves watching anime movies and reading manga. A good anime OP can get him pumped right in the mood depending on the genre (but mainly he watches sports stuff- he took a lot of moves and put them into his own after all!) and ready to enjoy a good show.

He’s not a fan of making music, but can appreciate the effort that goes into it; just like many things in life. It’s cool that someone can make something that manages to reach out to so many people. He’ll bob his head to a good tune, but he won’t dance, and sometimes even whistles things from time to time. Although he has no idea what a bpm even is he supports good wholesome music that’s great for sitting on the couch and chilling with his cat to.

#long post tw #reciprocation :: response #ascetic :: headcanon #//when i said an essay I fucking meant it #//i hope you've prepared yourself. #feebledetective #parchments :: inbox

[katsitting]

Uhhhm hi can you pls write a tomarry drabble/one shot thingy where they try to keep each other warm while theres a storm outside or smth bc i just saw the textpost. Pls and thank you

It took me some time, but here you have it. You may find the fic posted here on AO3. I hope you enjoy my take on this trope. This is an 11k word fic ^^;.

Rating: M

Tags: Swearing, Violence, Uresolved Sexual Tension, Alternate Universe- Office, Workplace Harassment, Humor, Suggestiveness, and Tags Subject to Change.

“He’s staring again,” Ron whispered into Harry’s ear before stuffing a donut into his mouth, crumbs of sugar smearing on the corners of his upper lip. Harry grimaced, shifting his attention to the pretty red-headed server at the other end of the diner. “This marks the fifth time this week.”

A groan rumbled from Harry’s chest, appetite leaving him entirely now that Ron had pointed out that Riddle was, once again, sitting at the diner and staring at him.

Harry had been content with just ignoring it. He was more than aware of the fact that Riddle was there. It was difficult not to notice when he worked with the bloke, and Riddle had made it almost routine to head to the same diner Harry frequented after work. How the man knew Harry’s schedule was beyond him. After all, they had never spoken to one another outside of the office.

Ever.

Of course, they’d interacted one or twice at work, the niceties and all that rot were necessary as supervisors at the company. That, however, did not necessarily mean that they saw one another often—or had the opportunity to—in the first place. They ran in completely different circles.

Harry was head of an entirely different department at work while the creep ran another at the opposite end of the building. The creative department and accounting department hardly ever interacted.

Ron cast a glance behind Harry’s back, and Harry wanted to groan into his hands.

“Would you stop giving him attention? He’s going to notice that I’ve noticed. The last thing I need on my day off is for him to think that you looking at him is an invitation to sit down with us.”

This was supposed to be his time to sit back and relax after an awful week of dealing with executives and their stupid complaints. How those stuffy executives could complain about every single detail, particularly when Harry didn’t even deal with the sales of the products, was beyond him.

He just handled the graphic designers and the digital artists, not the math and figures. That was what accounting did. The creative department looked at viewers and their interests. They measured their receptiveness to a particular advertisement over another. They weren’t paid do the rest, and even if they offered to pay for such services, Harry refused to.

It would only give him another reason to leave the office.

Harry’s work wasn’t…exciting. It was a decent job while waiting for the processing at the police academy to go forward, but it would never be enjoyable. The company policies were absolute shite.

At least with the police department he would be doing something he liked while still dealing with the nonsense of the bureaucratic world.

He just needed to hold out for a little longer. He had met all the requirements, had done all of the physicals. All he needed to do was wait and then he could quit his job and dedicate himself to the force.

It killed him to wait, but it would be incredibly stupid to quit months before he’d even get approved. He needed to save as much money as he could before he was inevitably penniless for the next few years as a low-tier cop.

“I mean, you should just talk to him. It’s not like the bloke is going to bite your head off or something.” Ron said with his mouth full of donut, eyes still trained on Riddle even after Harry had asked him to stop giving the bastard attention.

“Ron, you don’t know Riddle. There’s just something off about him, you know? Don’t you ever get that feeling about someone—” Harry began, casting an exasperated glance at Ron when he didn’t immediately answer. “—like there’s more to a guy than what he lets on? He’s so…polite and charming at work. He’s practically got everyone wrapped around his finge—”

“Do I, Mr. Potter?”

Harry froze at the sound of a familiar, masculine drawl. Horror and recognition speared him, only just noticing that the reason Ron had stopped talking was not because he had shoved a whole donut into his mouth, but because Riddle had risen from his seat and had made his way over to where they were seated at the counter.

“I was not aware you had that kind of impression of me.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—

Harry swiveled around, almost toppling from his chair when the tip of his nose nearly collided with Tom’s chest.

Why was he so bloody close?

Harry pressed his side into the counter, uncomfortable with Riddle’s invasion of his personal space before leveling the man with an irritated glower. The fact that he looked ridiculous this way hardly registered to Harry.

“And you probably never would have had you minded your own bloody business.”

Shock spread over Riddle’s stupid handsome face, and sweet sweet vindication surged through Harry’s insides, a smirk stretching over his lips when Riddle did not immediately respond.

Good, it served him right.

“It’s a pity, then. Our company retreat at the end of this week will certainly be ripe with awkward tension.”

Harry’s smirk fell, shoulders tensing at Riddle’s mention of their forced retreat. He’d forgotten about it entirely. It was something the CEO of the company had been harping on for the past few months. Something about improving relationships between supervisors and executives, and all that rot.

It was absolute bullshite.

“Did it slip your mind? Oh, I understand if it did.”

Riddle’s expression twisted into one of pity, the glimmer in the man’s eyes far too bright for Harry to believe it was sincere.

Wanker.

“The holidays are right around the corner. I’m sure the executives are keeping you quite busy with the marketing.”

Harry slammed an open palm onto the counter, startling both Ron, who had yet to say a word since Riddle had graced them with his parasitic presence, and a couple sitting not too far behind Ron.

If looks could kill, Harry’s glare alone would have killed Tom fucking Riddle at least ten times. His pitying glance combined with the obvious heat to the man’s words had all but pushed Harry past his boiling point. There was only so much bullshite he could deal with in a single week, and Riddle’s was not the kind of bullshite he was being paid to handle.

“One more word, and I promise that after I’m through with you, no one in the office will ever call you handsome for the rest of your miserable life.”

Riddle blinked at him, the pitying expression slipping off his face like an oil slick. Then—

The man smiled.

All the blood in Harry’s veins froze at the sight, unable to comprehend what was happening before Riddle leaned down, pressing into his personal space until their noses were nearly touching.

“Kinky.”

It was one word. A simple, unobtrusive word.

But in that moment, it sounded anything but. Frankly, it was a word Harry knew from that moment forward would forever remain ingrained in his psyche until the end of his days. Harry didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to bloody do. He was flabbergasted, confused to his very core because Riddle’s voice had…changed. Sounded huskier and breathier, somehow.

Riddle’s smile widened, his eyes flashing with something Harry refused acknowledge, before Riddle pulled back and turned to leave.

Thank god.

“H-harry?” Ron whispered into Harry’s ear, but Harry wasn’t listening. His mouth was wide open with shock, an embarrassed heat coiling over his face that was definitely not a blush. It burned him from the inside out, his humiliation at being thrown by that word almost worse than the unmistakable heat in the man’s voice.

Don’t let it get to your head, Harry. It was him just fucking with you, is all.

“What happened just now?” Ron asked again, once Riddle pushed past the double doors of the exit.

Turning to Ron with the straightest face he could muster, Harry paused, unsure of how to even begin. He honestly didn’t know anymore than the Ron did, and he had been the one subject to Riddle’s unwanted attention.

“I—” Harry swallowed, unable to finish his response.

In the four years he’d been working at the company, this was the first time he shared more than five words with Riddle within a 24 hour period. And somehow, in the span of 15 minutes, Riddle had not only managed to get a rise out of him—something no one, except for his ex-boyfriend Draco had ever been able to accomplish—and embarrass him.

Pressing his hands into his eyes, careful to avoid crushing his glasses, Harry groaned aloud, casting Ron a tired look after he finished.

How he was going to survive the company retreat after this bloody spectacle was the million dollar question. If he’d nearly lost his patience after speaking to Riddle for 15 minutes, there was simply no telling what a weekend at some winter resort would do to his sanity.

“I don’t know, Ron. Your guess is as good as mine.”

To say that Harry was tired of this trip was the understatement of the century. Already, he was dreading the fact that he had to be stuffed in some cheap bus with Tom Riddle, the newest bane of his existence, for a whole fucking weekend. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this kind of treatment. Maybe, somehow, he’d pissed off the wrong deities while working as a supervisor and this entire trip was just a means for those aggrieved gods to acquire their retribution. Harry honestly wasn’t sure.

Either way, Harry was done with this day and it had only just started. An unsurprising fact considering Tom Riddle had decided to sit beside him on the bus. Harry was certain his angry expression had been obvious. He hadn’t been hiding his displeasure from the moment Tom Riddle entered the bus—fashionably late of course, but no one was going to ride his ass about that, now were they—and sauntered over in his direction.

Harry had made a calculated decision to sit in the back, knowing, of course, that Riddle being the straight-laced goody two shoes that he pretended to be, had always been one to sit in the front nearest to the conductor to ensure that nothing would go amiss. The supervisor for the accounting department of the firm was not required to do all that, but no one would dare say something to the contrary.

Tom Riddle had just about everyone wrapped around his bloody finger, and there was no telling just who might end up fired should they cross Riddle.

That was what had happened to the last intern that had come into the fray a few weeks back. They entered the accounting firm and simply never came back, disappearing into the ether to never be found again. Of course, no one thought it odd that the poor intern just hightailed it out of there, except for Harry, but nevertheless, that was how the company went.

Yet, somehow, in spite of Harry’s careful consideration of all these facts, Riddle still felt the need to follow him all the way to the back of the bus. The thought of flinging himself into oncoming traffic had crossed his mind once or twice since then.

“Hello, Harry.” Riddle purred next to his ear, his side pressing uncomfortably into Harry’s side. It was unsurprising that he of all people refused to abide by societal norms, such as personal space.

Personal space wasn’t a foreign fucking concept.

“It’s been too long. How are you?”

Harry grit his teeth, staring hard at the traffic moving away from the city. They were leaving his home, his place of sanity, and heading into an unknown small town in the middle of fucking nowhere at some “winter palace.” At least, that was how the brochure for the place had painted it, but Harry did not believe a word of it. It was a load of bullshite in his honest opinion. It was simply another way for his bosses up top to convince their over-caffeinated and exhausted employees to play nice and stick it out until they could find replacements that did their work with far more efficiency and less ambition.

“Are you looking forward to the trip? This might be your only time off after the holiday craze begins.”

Whipping around, Harry leveled Riddle with the most intense glare he could muster. He wanted Riddle to stop talking. Didn’t he understand that Harry wanted nothing to do with him? That after their fucking fiasco at the diner, Harry wanted to avoid him?

It was basically sexual harassment what had happened at the diner. He should have reported it to human resources instead of sucking it up and ignoring it, wanting to pretend that it never happened. But whatever, it was too late now. They were trapped on this bus with perhaps six other supervisors from the company that Harry hardly interacted with on a good day.

“I don’t know what gives you the impression that I want to talk to you, but I don’t. What you did at the diner was sexual harassment. Hell, you’ve been stalking me for bloody months now!”

Harry was breathing heavily by the end of his tirade, but Riddle was utterly unfazed. His eyes were taking him in from the wild curls atop his head, to the angry flush of his cheeks, and down to the collar of his thick coat.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a terrible temper, Harry? It’s quite unbecoming.”

What?

Harry blinked, disbelief draining all the anger he clutched into his chest.

Riddle was completely bent. An utter nutcase.

Harry had never felt more certain of this fact that in that moment, eyeing the thick green scarf wrapped around Tom’s throat, covering a portion of his mouth.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? Pretend I don’t exist? You’ve done a marvelous job of ignoring me at work functions, why stop now?” Harry asked, defeated. It wasn’t much to ask. He was going to leave his job anyway. It would be peaceful, a mercy in and of itself, for Riddle to let him go on with his business without incident.

But Riddle wasn’t a kind man. Clearly, Harry’s hunch about Riddle’s true personality had not been wrong, for in that moment, Riddle’s lips curved into a wicked smile. His eyes flashed with something downright cruel, and Harry’s stomach plummeted all the way to his ankles.

“Oh Harry, now what would be the fun in that?”

Sighing loudly, Harry turned his attention back to the window to watch the flurries of snow pass. There was no use answering that question. He’d be wasting his breath trying to convince Riddle to stop.

So, rather than argue with Riddle til his face turned blue, Harry instead watched the world pass through the window—the buildings growing smaller and smaller until there was nothing but countryside. An agricultural paradise that went on endlessly with only the occasional interruption of a car passing through, until those interruptions too, ceased.

If Riddle crowded closer to him on the bus, Harry didn’t say a word to acknowledge it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words came unbidden, his genuine shock and frustration at what he was seeing impossible to hide.

The “winter palace” that the CEO had spent months harping about to his employees was no palace. It would be too generous of a statement to call it anything but a run down warehouse. When he saw it from his window, only several feet away from the driveway they turned into, Harry had hoped that this building would not be their stop.

But he had been wrong, resigned to his fate when the Greyhound bus stopped right at the iron entrance of the place.

“Clearly not.” Tom whispered into his ear, reminding Harry that Tom was sitting beside him and had, in fact, heard Harry’s curse. “It seems that our stay at the “Winter Palace” will not be a pleasant one.”

Harry pressed his face into his hands, wondering if it was too late to turn back. This was a literal shit-hole. The building looked like it hadn’t been renovated in at least twenty years. The iron gate they had driven through was rusted, the tell-tale red and brown patterning around the iron like the scales of a snake.

“Alright everyone.”

Harry was forced away from his thoughts, attention turning to one of the executives sitting at the front of the bus, who he vaguely knew as Mike. The man rose from his seat, his inky black hair and sallow skin gleaming unnaturally beneath the dim light trickling through the bus windows.

Here comes the bad news.

“We’ve divided you all into pairs. The rooms can only fit two at a time. We understand that you were all under the impression of sleeping in your own rooms, but autumn season was not a kind one to the company.”

Harry huffed, miffed that they would use such an excuse on them. They weren’t ignorant, lower-tier employees that didn’t know just how these things went. To say that the executives had planned to provide them with their own accomodations was a lie and a terrible one at that. They never intended to in the first place. Why would their boss bother to give them a wonderful room when he could be spending the company money as he saw fit? On other things that were of little to no importance to anyone but himself?

“Please try not to switch rooms. Management has made it clear that all parties staying in their hotel must remain in their rooms. It was this agreement that allowed us to receive the lower rates that we did.”

A snort nearly escaped him. Of course, Harry thought. It was all about the cheaper rates with these arseholes.

“If you have any issues or concerns with your accommodations, please notify the front desk. This trip is non-refundable, so unless you have good reason for needing to leave early, we will deduct the difference from your salary.”

Great.

There was no escaping this place. There was no way in hell he would pay for this disaster of a hotel. He’d sooner ask Riddle over for tea and biscuits before letting them take a cut of his salary.

“You look quite upset, Harry.”

Grinding the crown of his teeth, Harry turned his attention back to Riddle. He’d nearly forgotten the man was there, caught up with his own thoughts and frustrations concerning this stupid company. It shouldn’t have surprised him that they’d pull this kind of stunt after all the bullshite they’d flung in their general direction for years, but still. This was no reward for their hard work at the company, and certainly no gift, if the stakes of leaving before their stay was anything to go by.

It was punishment.

“As I should be. This place looks like a bloody death trap.” Harry hissed, his expression going sour when Riddle smiled, all teeth. It made every single hair on the back of Harry’s neck stand on end, the unsettling whisper of danger lurking in that face enough to make him press closer to the window and away from Tom. “Look at it. There’s cobwebs on the bloody windows and the front porch has uneven floorboards and chipped paint.”

Tom turned away from Harry to regard the hotel with a thoughtful expression, leaning further into Harry’s space. Harry tried not to let his impatience show when Tom took his sweet time to look at it, as if this were some kind of expensive art piece at a famous art gallery rather than some shite motel.

It was only after Harry began to shake his leg that Tom stopped and turned his attention back to him.

Then, just as Tom was about to speak, Harry’s attention was forced away from the dread of staying in this crappy place and his irritation with his bizarre co-worker.

“Alright then. We took the liberty of pairing you all off—” the man paused at the loud groans and complaints that erupted at that. Harry only pinched the bridge of his nose. “—it was not my idea. This was something the head personally cooked up. Don’t give me that look, John.”

Harry glanced at Mike, then followed his gaze to the supervisor he’d mentioned by name. He was tempted to flash him a smile and give him a thumbs up for expressing what everyone certainly felt at that moment. To be paired off with people from the company they did not even know was a pain in the arse. What if Harry hated them? What if they snored?

With his sleeping habits, he doubted he could sleep a solid night if his roommate was loud.

“Anyway,” Mike continued, ignoring the collective murmurs of displeasure from everyone on the bus. “I will call out the names of those that will be rooming together. So please, once you’ve been called, it’d be great if you would head to your rooms. Check-in is in about fifteen minutes and they have a strict check-in policy.

Of course they did, Harry thought, his mouth pursing into a thin line. They picked a fucking shitehole that hasn’t seen a customer in possibly years.

They’d tack on as many conditions to their stay as they could, if it could justify them keeping their security deposit and charging added fees.

“Robert Smith, you’re with Frederick Wilton.”

Harry didn’t recognize the names, and promptly after watching a portly, dark haired man storm out of the bus with a scowl on his face, Harry wondered if the partnership was a terrible one.

“It would be amusing if we ended up sharing the same suite.”

Harry jumped, smacking his leg against the bottom of the seat in front of him. Riddle had whispered into his ear, lips brushing against the shell. It had been too close, and Harry rounded on him in seconds, uncaring that he was nearly at his wits end and going to leave with a massive bruise on his shin.

“No,” Harry said vehemently, nostrils flaring. “It would be an absolute nightmare to be put in the same room as you. You have no fucking respect for personal space.”

Tom smiled at him, eyes twinkling with a mirth that had no business being on his stupid face. They were not friends, and would never be. The man was a creep, and it would be a crime against all of humanity—but most of all, a personal attack against Harry—to be put in the same room.

Lord knows, Tom might fucking watch him as he slept.

A shudder crawled up Harry’s spine at the thought.

“Harry, I hope you are aware that our transportation is rather small. I cannot help that I am a large man that takes up quite a bit of space.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Sure, the Greyhound bus wasn’t large by any means, but that did not excuse Riddle leaning into him and whispering inane things into his ear throughout the entire ride. It had been suffocating to have him breathing his same air, his hot breath and voice brushing along the shell of his ear whenever the bus so much as rocked—

“Yeah, but do you have to whisper into my bloody ear? It’s unnecessary. You could tell me all about the crap that crosses your mind without your mouth getting anywhere near me—”

“Is there something wrong with my mouth being near yours, Harry? My, that’s quite an inappropriate thought to have of a fellow employee.”

Sputtering, Harry tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t end with him punching Riddle in the face. When he couldn’t, Harry opted to level Riddle with a glare and say—

“Yes, there is something very wrong with it. It is precisely because you are my co-worker that I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

Tom leaned back into his seat, hand cupping his chin, his stupid smile still stretched along his lips. “And yet here you are. You simply could have moved to another seat if you were so offended by my presence.”

Harry blinked, frowning when he realized that Tom was right. He could have moved. Nothing was stopping him from leaving—there had still been space when he’d sat in the back in the hope that Tom would not follow.

Still, that didn’t answer the question of whether Tom would have let him leave in the first place. The man could have followed him to another seat and annoyed him there. Or worse, if Harry had sat beside someone else, have pulled his weight as one of the favorites at the office and gotten the poor bastard to move and let him slide in beside Harry.

Had Harry really had a choice? No, Harry thought with conviction, absolutely not.

“Oh, that’s rich. As if you wouldn’t follow me wherever I decided to sit. You were always following me to that diner, so how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t follow me to another bloody seat?” Harry demanded, watching how Tom’s shoulders tensed before smoothing out.

Victory surged inside him, a vicious smile stretching over his lips. Good, Tom should be annoyed.

However, rather than reacting as Harry had expected, Tom began to laugh. Harry was flabbergasted.

It was a deep and throaty sound, one that Harry had never heard before. An angry blush spread through his cheeks, irritation blooming inside him like the burn of an ulcer when Riddle didn’t stop for a solid minute.

Bastard.

The chatter of the other people on the bus was lost to the cacophony. Even Mike’s annoying voice calling out names had dissipated into nothing, the sound of his blood rushing to his ears and Riddle’s laughter too difficult to ignore.

Then, it abruptly stopped. Riddle’s expression sobered, and Harry’s breath hitched when Riddle pressed forward until their noses were touching, faces so close that Harry could count each individual lash framing his eyelids.

He tried to rear back, but there was nowhere to go. He had chosen the window seat, and was already pressed as far back as he could to the glass and the uncomfortable polyester chair he was sitting on.

“You’re right—” Riddle said, voice dropping to a low murmur that Harry strained to hear even with how close they sat. “—where else am I going to get my entertainment if not at your side?”

Harry froze at the flash of something predatory in Riddle’s eyes, like the kind of look Harry had seen Ron give his mother’s home-cooked meals after he’d spent months surviving off his own cooking. Throat suddenly dry, Harry tried not to shrink into himself when Riddle’s mouth parted and a hot breath fanned against his lips.

He didn’t want to think about what that meant, about the implications in the man’s words and the way he looked at him—

“Harry Potter.”

At the sound of his own name, the strange tension between them dissipated. Riddle pulled away from him in an instant, granting Harry the space to breathe and turn his attention back to Mike. The man looked just as exhausted as Harry felt.

The bus was nearly empty save for the two executives still seated at the front and a pair of supervisors seated just behind them. A bad feeling bloomed in his chest, realizing that if there were only seven people on that bus, and Riddle was still sitting beside him, then—

“You’re with Riddle.”

Shock spread through his insides, the sound of Riddle’s low laugh beside him drowned out by the horror that followed.

No.

“Don’t even try it, Potter. Unless you’re willing to pay 800 pounds for your room and the special amenities the company has provided, you best keep your mouth shut and take your things into the room.”

At Mike’s steely tone, Harry clamped his mouth closed and clenched his jaw. When he had opened it to complain, he didn’t know, but at that moment, Harry wished more than ever that he could give everyone a piece of his mind. This was a disaster. They had no idea what it was that they had done, pairing him off with Riddle as if Harry would be able to sleep comfortably with that creep breathing down his neck.

Harry didn’t bother to spare Riddle a glance, shooting up to his feet and pushing past the man’s legs to head to the front of the bus.

Anger fed his movements, his scowl turning lethal when Mike gave him a pitying glance as he passed. He didn’t bother to look back and see for himself if Riddle was following after him. He probably was right at his heels, his longer legs making it easy to dwarf any space Harry managed to put between them.

Bloody perfect.

When he finally emerged from the bus, its doors wide and letting in winter’s frigid breath, Harry turned to see that his things had already been taken down from the storage compartment.

It wasn’t much. Just a small carry-on bag and a hiking bag carrying the essentials necessary to survive the duration of his “vacation.” He had at least three different winter coats packed into the backpack, mindful that it was going to be in the negatives for the entire weekend, and it would be stupid of him to let himself go unprepared.

Grumbling, Harry scooped the bag and slung one strap over his shoulder. He pulled out the handle of his roller bag, and began walking toward the set of buildings further out from the driveway.

Upon closer inspection, Harry found that the building looked even more run-down than it did from a distance. There were cobwebs on the upper suites and cracks in the pillars, which held up its once opulent entrance.

Great.

It was a lonely walk. His footsteps and his own breaths the only sounds cutting into the silence that descended over the place. His colleagues were nowhere to be found. They had long since made their way to the hotel, perhaps an attempt to escape the hideousness of the building and the biting cold cutting through their coats. It was a good thing Harry had packed well, he would have joined them in their desperation to get inside, otherwise.

Then, just as Harry was reaching the unsteady cover of the porch, footsteps sounded behind him. Harry did not turn, knowing already who it had to be. There were five others left on the bus, so Mike would still be inside with the remaining passengers.

“In a hurry?” Tom said, the sound of his footsteps growing louder and louder, alerting Harry of the unpleasant reality that he was getting closer. “Our destination is one in the same. Why not enjoy the weather? There is still time before we have to check-in.”

Gritting his teeth, Harry did not turn back even when Tom finally caught up to him and mirrored Harry’s brusque pace to the main building. There were several edifices stretched on either side of this main one, all in varying degrees of ugly. He hoped the inside was nicer than the outside.

“No.” Harry finally said when Riddle followed him, his movements easily mirroring Harry’s own. It added to Harry’s annoyance. “I just want to head to my room and forget that I am stuck here for an entire weekend with you.”

Riddle did not speak after that. It was the closest to a reprieve Harry had gotten all evening. The man wasn’t known for his chattiness, but on the bus, the bloke just didn’t know when to quit. Talking and talking about his observations of each of the supervisors and his opinions on the debacle that was this entire trip.

He could not immediately recall Tom ever talking this much in the past. This was more words than Harry had exchanged with Tom in his entire time at the company, including the fated afternoon where Riddle approached him at the diner.

Perhaps, if Harry hadn’t been so creeped out and annoyed with Riddle, he might not have minded the chatter. Ron was not a quiet guy, and neither was Hermione when someone fired her up, but Riddle was a creep. An attractive-looking man, but a creep all the same that placed too much weight on his attractiveness to get him special treatment at the company.

“There are worse things than being in a room with me, Harry.”

At the sound of his name, Harry turned to Riddle, slowing down so that he didn’t end up eating dirt and snow. He hoped his skepticism at the comment was obvious. There was nothing he could think of that could possibly be worse.

“Yeah? What?” Harry asked, humoring him when Riddle looked entirely too serious with his scarf wrapped around his neck and two massive luggage bags gripped beneath his fingers.

“Being trapped with a monster hiding in plain sight.”

Unease bloomed low in his stomach when Riddle smiled a beatific smile. A shudder rippled through him that had nothing to do with the cold air cutting through his cheeks.

He didn’t say anything in response, turning back to look at the wooden doors of the hotel. There wasn’t anything he could say to that. It had sounded like a warning, an ominous promise that made all the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

Harry hoped Riddle had only been kidding and that there wasn’t some special meaning to what he’d said.

Harry had been right when he said that the hotel was a literal death trap.

At first, when they’d stopped by the receptionist desk to pick up their keys, the place had looked decent enough. It was marginally better than the exterior of the building, at least. Tasteful potted plants and landscape paintings lined the cream-colored walls, adding an air of sophistication that the outside lacked.

However, after checking in and learning that their suite was a great distance from the main entrance, Harry had grown immediately suspicious. After all, it was one thing to be within the same area as everyone else, but entirely another to be cut off from the rest of his co-workers.

They’d been assigned to Suite S, which turned out to be a separate building entirely. It was its own private space and there was only one room. A place, he found, that was better suited for couples wishing to escape noisy tourists rather than for jaded company employees.

Then, of course, just when Harry had thought the entire thing could not possibly get worse, when they opened the door, the interior of the room was a wreck. It looked like something straight out of some cheesy 90s porno. The couches were made of velvet. The bed was decorated with cheesy heart pillows and red satin sheets that looked to be stained with something he didn’t want to think too hard about.

There was an air conditioning unit and an electric hearth within centimeters of one another, pushed against the opposite wall facing the bed and the two white nightstands.

Apparently when his company had selected the rooms, they had, in their desperation to get a solid deal for the whole trip, had forgotten that this was meant to be a professional affair and not some shite attempt at matchmaking.

“Well, this is certainly interesting.” Tom chimed in, stepping past Harry and into the room with his luggage in tow.

Interesting was not the word Harry would use to describe this disaster.

“They must have made a mistake.” Harry said, stepping into the room and sighing in relief when there were at least two beds in the room rather than the one he had seen from the entrance.

Thank god.

“I doubt that they did. It seems that this room has all the trappings of a love motel, but the fact that they’d at least included a second bed and a kitchenette on the other end suggests otherwise.”

A flush stained his cheeks at the mention of love motels. God, Harry hoped that the room hadn’t been used as one for some time now and that the sheets were laundered well enough.

Harry didn’t think he could take many more surprises.

“Hopefully, they’ve recently renovated this room and washed the sheets.”

Harry did not dare dignify Tom’s comment with a response, kicking the door shut once he’d dragged his things inside.

The room was hideous, certainly, but the thought that this had once been a hotel where people slept with each other made him green with nausea. Sex wasn’t something he got too much of or pondered on, after his split with Ginny and his disastrous relationship with Draco. But to sleep in a bed where he knew others had fucked? That was too much even for him. At least, when the hotel didn’t having the history of a sex hotel, he could pretend no one had sex in those.

“I can’t sleep like this.” Harry said, trying to recall if he’d seen a laundry room somewhere in the building on his walk over to the suite. Management had mentioned that they did have a place to launder their clothes, free of charge, but where that was, was a mystery.

“Well, the sun is still out. There would be no need for you to rest until the sun at least sets.”

That was not the answer Harry had been hoping for, a loud groan escaping him when he sat on the bed, its springs creaking with his weight.

“This sucks.” Harry sighed, realizing then that there would be no way out of this. The laundry room was possibly on the other side of the place. He was sharing a room with Tom Riddle, who didn’t seem at all fazed by potentially sleeping on sex-drenched sheets, and this was a weekend long excursion with no escape until the length of their stay ended.

At the sound of rustling cloth, Harry turned his attention away from the carpeted floor and glanced at the source.

Harry wished he hadn’t. Riddle had removed his shirt, his bare chest pale white beneath the incandescent light of the suite. His trouser button was undone, a band of dark green poking from the slit where his trousers laid open.

Turning away immediately, Harry tried not to blush with his discomfort. “I swear to god, Riddle, couldn’t you have changed in the bathroom? You’re not in the privacy of your own damn flat.”

The rustling stopped and Harry barely kept himself from turning once again when the side of his bed dipped.

“I’m well aware that I am not alone.”

Riddle’s voice had come far too close for comfort, his breath fanning across the bare skin of Harry’s neck. “If you do not wish to see me, then avert your eyes. I am not forcing you to look at me.”

With that, Riddle pulled away.

Harry didn’t say anything else after that, the haunting memory of Riddle’s hot breath against his neck and the fact that he didn’t care that Harry was there with him, a poignant one.

God, Harry thought, pressing his hands into his face, this is going to be a fucking nightmare.

Thankfully, his rooming together with Riddle hadn’t ended in catastrophe. Despite realizing he was staying in a renovated love hotel and learning that Riddle honestly gave zero absolute shits about personal space, Harry acclimated rather quickly.

As long as Harry didn’t think too hard about what Riddle did in the room or about what people had done on the bed, it was bearable. Riddle, for the most part, left Harry to his own devices and didn’t demand any more than was necessary of his time. Most often, Riddle talked to him about inane things like the weather and the flaws of each employee currently staying at the place, but it wasn’t too bad. He could handle it.

However, things took a turn the second day of their forced cohabitation.

Apparently, the hotel had a partnership with one of the local resorts that offered discounted pricing on sledding and skiing equipment. The company had offered to pay for the whole thing, as a means of quieting the complaints of almost everyone. Apparently, their rooms were shite. Something about the air conditioning unit not working and the room being plagued by a bizarre odor—Harry wasn’t certain on the logistics.

So far, his room had a fully functional heater and his room did not smell of strange things. The smell of cheap detergent wasn’t ideal, but it was markedly better than the stench of sewage and garbage that his co-workers complained of from theirs.

Either way, after many complaints from the disgruntled supervisors, the company had relented in paying for their equipment for that afternoon. The resort itself wasn’t a “resort” by any means. It was more of a small shack with a bustling hearth and maybe one or two employees manning the whole place, but it seemed to pacify the others.

Except Harry.

He wasn’t fond of the idea, if he were being honest. The hotel had a terrible reputation and after looking up reviews on Yelp for the equipment rental store, Harry was even more convinced that borrowing anything, even when it was free, was a bad idea.

If only he had followed his instincts and not allowed Tom to badger him into coming along with everyone. He would have preferred to stay inside, warm and comfortable, rather than out in the snow with a man he disliked immensely and fellow co-workers he had no reason to talk to.

Harry sighed, sulking as he waited to go down the small mountain. They had been taking turns, the more seasoned skiers taking the lead while the other less experienced bunch watched on with terrified and intrigued eyes.

He’d skied before. Sirius had taken him out once when he’d been a teen and it had been fun. Watching Sirius eat snow more than once while Remus had watched on with a fond smile had been worth all the bruises he’d earned trying to learn.

However, this was nothing like those lazy winter afternoons. There was no Sirius or Remus here to poke humor at his expense. There was only Riddle and the other equally exhausted employees waiting to have a go before retiring for the day.

“Are you ready?” A voice whispered into Harry’s ear, rousing him from his thoughts.

He turned to the voice, frowning when, of course, it was Riddle who had spoken. He was the only that ever whispered so damned close to his ear.

“About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

He ignored the small smile that spread along Riddle’s face before turning back to the winding path before him. It was a long ways down, white with snow and littered with patches of evergreen.

“You don’t look very thrilled, Harry.” Tom pointed out, stepping forward to stand over the edge of the hill to Harry’s right. It looked like Riddle planned to go along with him. Why he wanted to do something like that beyond Harry. “Why don’t we make things a bit interesting. Start a bet of sorts?”

Harry paused, turning his attention back on Riddle. He was smiling still, his eyes bright and mischievous. It made something turn in his stomach, as if he’d already taken a dive down the mountain.

“A bet? What do you have in mind?” Harry hedged, humoring the bloke if only to satisfy his own curiosity. It wasn’t common for Riddle to gamble, especially when he was the one that ran the company’s accounting department. It was strange.

“The first one to reach the bottom of the mountain gets to ask for one favour of the other.”

A frown stretched across his face while Riddle’s smile remained in place. That didn’t sound like a good enough deal to him. What could he possibly want from Riddle?

A favor? There was nothing Riddle had that Harry wanted.

Harry was about to reject the offer and turn back to the mountain when Riddle’s hand clamped on his arm, smile gone. Something in his insides wrenched at the contact, the proximity between them reminding him of the bizarre event on the bus and the strange conversation on their walk to the front desk the previous day.

This couldn’t be good.

“If you win, you could ask me to never speak to you again.”

Oh.

Surprise made his mouth part in shock, his eyes growing wide at the fact that Riddle would volunteer that kind of favor. It was…tempting. Harry didn’t want anything to do with him, so perhaps asking him to leave him alone, well. That sounded almost too good to be true.

Harry narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious.

“And why would you risk that? So far, you’ve shown little interest in honoring my personal autonomy.”

Riddle didn’t speak for a moment, his hand still grasping Harry’s forearm. It wasn’t a death grip by any means, but it definitely wasn’t a hold Harry could easily shake off without getting into a scuffle.

“Because it would be fun. What is the point of a bet if one of the parties is not interested in his prize?”

That was a good point, and Harry’s lips pursed at that. He wasn’t wrong. He wouldn’t agree to a bet if there was nothing in it for him.

Still, Harry thought, that still doesn’t answer the question of what Riddle could want.

“And you? Are you interested in your prize? Why would you want a favor from me?” Harry asked, unable to curb his own curiosity.

“I am interested, I wouldn’t be asking for a favor if there wasn’t something of worth to be gained.” Riddle offered, his fingers tightening on Harry’s arm minutely before releasing it entirely. The flesh ached where Riddle had gripped him. “I am only interested in the favor itself. One that I can cash in at a later date when necessary.”

Well…that did make some sense, Harry thought. He knew enough about people to know that sometimes they were just happy knowing that they had someone watching their back. He would be the first to say that he didn’t know Riddle, but he also knew that although he was odd and creepy, he wasn’t mass murderer. He said strange and cryptic things Harry didn’t always follow, but he wasn’t evil.

What was the worst that could happen? Riddle already followed him around like a debt collector, how bad would it be to owe him a favor?

“Alright, I’ll do it. Just don’t get any funny ideas, okay?”

Riddle tilted his head to one side, lips stretching into a thin smile that looked far more genuine than all the other expressions he’d seen Riddle wear, before outstretching his hand. Harry didn’t hesitate to take it, shaking on their agreement.

“Agreed.”

Nodding, Harry turned once again to the hill. His goggles were pressed against his forehead, and he grabbed the ski poles and readied himself. At his side, Harry took one quick glance to see Riddle do the same, gearing up for the race. He looked determined, strangely sober for a race that was allegedly meant to be purely for fun.

“Ready?” Harry asked, tugging on his goggles, ever so grateful that he’d opted for contacts that afternoon.

“Ready.” Riddle said.

“Then, on three.” Harry said, fingers clenching tightly around the ski poles, a bead of sweat gathering on the nape of his neck.

“One.”

Harry turned away from Riddle, watching the clouds obscure the sliver of light above them. Dark and oppressive, reminiscent of the shade of Riddle’s own eyes.

“Two.”

Harry’s heart was racing a mile a minute, euphoria and adrenaline close companions as he prepared himself for the race. It’d been a long time since he’d played games with high stakes.

It felt good.

“Three!”

They were off. The wind blowing against his face was relentless, the darkening sky and the sensation of his skis hitting the snow one that made his blood sing. He didn’t turn to look if Riddle was following him.

In that moment, it was Harry and the snow. The wind was all he could hear, the biting pressure of the air cutting through every layer of his coat and his thermal underwear. It was thrilling, and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched over his face when he pushed on, wading through the snow like a sea snake swam through a river.

A whoop tumbled from his lips, and he watched how the trees passed him in a blur of green and white, rocks and other debris easily avoided with a careful push of his ski poles. It was amazing—he’d forgotten just how much he enjoyed this feeling.

“Harry!” A voice cut through his excitement, loud and familiar. He almost turned toward it, befuddled that someone could be shouting his name when he was flying through the snow at a speed that was almost unreal.

“You have to turn back!” Frowning, Harry did turn his head at that, confusion coloring his face when up at the top of the mountain there was a crowd of onlookers that he couldn’t identify. They were too far for him to see their faces, but their screams rang through the sound of rushing snow and wind.

“There’s a storm brewing, you have to stop!”

A storm?

Trepidation bloomed in his stomach, recalling in that instant the darkened clouds that had begun to gather at the top of the sky, the sun nearly overcome when he’d been talking to Riddle earlier.

There had been no mention of a storm on his weather app, he had checked three hundred times to make sure. It was unprecedented that things could unravel so quickly.

“Watch out!”

At that loud cry, Harry had one split second to turn around and look forward before he smashed into a tree, his body careening out of control. He screamed, eyes falling shut as the snow and his own inertia forced him down the hill and further away from the screaming voices of his colleagues.

His body lifted mid-air, rolling through the ground in a heap of limbs. Harry had no time but to buckle down when his ankle smashed into a rock, an ear-splitting crack sounding in the air. A cry tore from his lungs, the pain making his eyes water when his body continued to roll further down until he could hear nothing but the sound of the blood rushing to his ears and his own whimpers each time he jostled his leg.

Help!

Harry couldn’t scream, mouth filling with snow as he continued to roll until finally, he smashed into what could only be another tree, halting his descent. Everything hurt. His fingers were wet and sticky with blood from when the rocks along the path had cut through his coat and into his skin.

There was no telling how long he laid that way. It could have easily been an eternity before he gathered the wherewithal to open his eyes.

Blinking, he tried to repress his tears when he tried to get up and unwittingly awakened a deep, pulsing pain concentrated on his ankle.

A swear tumbled from his mouth, then a whimper, his eyes blinking away the darkened spots of his vision to take note of his surroundings. He didn’t dare move as he took in the winding trees towering above him and the bloodied snow. No, he held perfectly still, afraid to jostle any other injuries.

Fuck, he should have been paying attention. It was a rookie mistake to turn one’s back, to lose one’s concentration while in the midst of a run.

“Hel-help, somebody,” Harry cried out, coughing when his lungs began to protest at his efforts. “R-riddle? Someone!” He didn’t know why he called for him, why he would bother, but he had to try. He couldn’t just lay there, helpless while a fucking storm rolled over the horizon.

There was no response. It was only him and trees around him. The sky, in the time that it took him to come to a stop after hitting every rock and fallen branch on the way down, growing darker. Purple and heavy, the threat of a storm thick in the black clouds that floated above the trees.

Perfect, just bloody perfect.

Harry laid there helpless, unable to do anything as he waited for someone come find him. He was certain he hadn’t rolled too far away from the main skiing camp. There was only so much inertia a person had before they stopped, and Harry doubted he could have gotten very far.

But when the minutes seemed to stretch out for what felt like an eternity, Harry’s confidence began to wane. Apprehension crept over his senses, the possibility of dying out here in the cold while he bled out, a heavy one that made his breaths come far too quickly.

So much for a wonderful vacation, Harry.

“Harry!”

At the sound of his name, Harry perked up, wincing when he jostled his arm, realizing that he’d probably broken it too when he tried to break his fall.

“I’m he-here!” He screamed. His voice echoed through the trees, and he prayed in that moment that whoever had followed him down there had heard him. He didn’t know how long he could last if he didn’t get some help.

He had already lost feeling in his extremities, the numbness more terrifying than the actual fall. When one started going numb, that was when fingers or limbs were lost. Eaten away by the frost, victim to winter’s cruel breath.

“Harry, where are you!?” That voice came again, closer this time. Harry tried to crawl toward it, teeth aching when his ankle began to pulse in time with his racing heartbeat. It was so fucked that Harry doubted he could put any weight on it—he’d need a doctor to fix it if he didn’t want a permanent limp. “Harry!”

“I’m here. I’m here!”

Harry was screaming bloody murder, crawling toward the voice. His nails dug into the snow, his fingertips, even with gloves, tingling with each mound of snow he dug through to push himself forward.

A shadow passed over him, lurking from somewhere inside the trees, and Harry opened his mouth to scream again.

“I’m here, please. I’m here—” His throat was aching fiercely by the end of it, scratchy and hoarse. He doubted he could keep shouting without losing his voice entirely.

The minutes trickled by, the shadow lingering in the trees for a long stretch of time, before the shadow broke through the trees and ran toward him. Harry couldn’t quite make out the person, his vision was coming in and out, blood loss and pain taking its toll on him after forcing himself to crawl that one meter he had.

“Harry…”

The person threw himself to the snow beside him, his hands, gentle and so warm, pulling him up to rest his head over his lap.

“You idiot,” the man said, fingers carding through the hair peeking from beneath his cap. It was a miracle it hadn’t fallen off, with how quickly he’d rolled down that mountain, but he was grateful for it. His insides were cold, his hands and feet had gone numb. “You could have gotten yourself killed. Why would you look back while skiing?”

Harry coughed, head lolling to one side. His head felt heavy, as if weighed down by stone. His vision was growing darker and darker as the minutes passed, and it was only at the stranger’s curse that he became aware that he was being scooped up, the pain in his arm and ankle yanking him out of the strange haze settling over him.

Whimpering, Harry tilted his head to regard the man that was now dragging him by his waist and shoulders toward, what he assumed, was the hotel.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to recognize who this person was. The goggles, cap, and thick coat had obscured most, if not all, of the man’s features.

“R-Riddle?” Harry said, throat dry and aching as he was pulled along. “They sent you?”

Riddle fixed his gaze on him then, his dark eyes the only discernible feature on the man’s face. They were intense, a glimmer to them that made something nervous jolt in Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t a pleasant look. One might even say that Riddle looked upset. Harry didn’t get it.

“I sent myself.” Riddle replied, his eyes staring into Harry’s eyes. It almost hurt to look at him, the strain of his eyes making his head pound. “When I saw that you were nowhere to be found, I set off looking for you.”

That made sense. They had both pushed off the top at the same time. It would be odd not to find his competitor after they’d both made their gambles.

“The storm should be here soon. I did my best to find you before you became buried in it.” Riddle continued, his movements careful even though, in retrospect, Tom should be rushing to find cover somewhere. There was no time for him to be gentle with him. His ankle and arm were broken, but what did his limbs matter if he didn’t survive in the first place?

“Riddle, then you might want to hurry up. I-if we do have a storm coming, then you shouldn’t be this slo-slow.” Harry coughed, cheeks itchy with dried tears as he tried to compose himself through his hacking fits. Maintaining conversation was a strain, but he couldn’t just be quiet when their lives were at risk.

“We’ll be fine. There’s a cave not too far from here.”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and allowed Riddle to guide him to the cave. It was certainly no hospital, but he couldn’t afford to be picky. There was no time to make it back to the hotel and avoid the storm. A quick glance towards the sky revealed that it would be upon them at any moment. It had gone a sickly dark purple, the sun eaten entirely by the terrifying weather.

Heaviness swept through him, the same sensation of floating away making his head fall against Riddle’s chest. He was exhausted, eyes struggling to stay open when Riddle’s rocking movements lulled him to sleep. It didn’t help that his fear and adrenaline had gradually dissipated, Riddle’s words and presence serving as a comfort for the real danger he’d be in without it.

He didn’t want to die here. Not now when there was so much for him to do, when his life was only just beginning. How terrible would it be to die with his last memories being this shitty trip? No, he refused to die here.

Riddle did not speak for some time, the sound of his steps crushing snow and his own breathing the only thing to break the eerie silence that had settled between them. Harry tried to stay awake, shifting his head to look at Riddle, but the numbness was too much. Even Riddle’s heat, though welcomed in that moment, was not enough to drive away the chill still clinging to his limbs.

“Ar-are we almost there?” Harry said, eyelids falling shut and refusing to obey his desire to remain awake. It was dangerous to fall asleep, to give in to that strange sensation undulating beneath his skin. He’d heard stories, seen enough survival series to know that sleep was the last thing he wanted to have when he was losing blood and freezing his arse off.

“Harry—” Riddle said, but Harry could not make out his words. They faded in and out of his hearing, even when Harry’s cheek vibrated with the force of Riddle’s voice. There was something calling to him, something familiar.

Harry…

It was a soft voice. One that sounded an awful like his mother, singing for him to close his eyes and to dream. He recognized it, latching onto it desperately because it was his mother’s voice. It was unmistakable, the rich velvet of her tongue speaking his name could not be anything else.

Sleep, my darling, my son.

A smile crept over his face and the world became nothing. Haziness settled into his bones, over his fingertips until there was nothing but her.

Close your eyes and let yourself be free…

The lolling motions ceased, evaporating like a white mist.

Cover your ears, I’ll be here…

His mother had never come back. Her voice and the rich scent of her hair were the only memories he had of her—her face and her hair, a nebulous nothing that he couldn’t recall with detail. Not when it’d been years since she’d died, since his father had joined her in the afterlife, leaving him at the mercy of the Dursleys…

To battle the monsters reaching for your feet…

“Harry!”

His eyes snapped open to a sea of grey, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he tried to make sense of where he was and why it was so damn bright…

“Don’t close your eyes. You must stay awake.”

He blinked repeatedly, trying to will away the black spots flickering over his vision.

“W-where—?” Harry coughed, unable to finish his phrase when the short puffs of air turned into heavy wheezing. His eyes burned, tears threatening to fall from the violence of his breathing. It was so terrible that it took him a while to notice the warmth stretching along his back, rubbing soothing circles against his clothed flesh.

There was no telling how long he remained that way, equal parts enjoying the warmth seeping into his back and hating the burn of his throat.

God.

“There, that’s it. Breathe in through your nose and let out slow breaths from your mouth.” A masculine voice whispered into his ear, a strange sensation blooming in his belly when lips grazed the shell of it. “Try to stay awake. You cannot fall asleep in your condition.”

Confusion spread through him, and then—

Harry glanced down after his coughing subsided to find that his ankle was bent in a way that he’d never seen his leg bend before. It was lying on the floor, his trousers smeared in blood and dirt, the cuff torn so as to reveal bruised and swollen flesh.

There was no pain despite its grim appearance.

Swallowing, Harry was just about to ask what had happened when all of his memories came at him at once. The bet, the cries of an oncoming storm, the loud crunch of his ankle and arm making impact with tree and rock, the sight of his blood on white snow—oh god, his blood—and the cold. A fierce, unwavering cold that spread through him as sickness cut through impoverished villages.

“O-oh god,” Harry stammered, the lack of feeling in his legs and fingers making panic choke on his spit. “I-I can’t feel my fingers, my feet—”

“You were out in the cold for some time. There’s no need to panic. I’ll try to get you warmed up as we wait for the storm to pass.” Riddle—yes, that was who this was—said into his ear before his arms wrapped around him.

Harry stiffened, unable to repress that reaction, before he inevitably sank into the embrace, unable to resist the heat Riddle emitted. It made his blood warm, his body tingle strangely to be pressed against his body after winter had nearly devoured him with her icy mouth. There was a strange sound beneath the background, not nearly as loud as the sound of Riddle’s voice or the heartbeat beneath the man’s chest, but it was there.

It was a constant thrum.

“Unfortunately, in the time it took me to bring you to the cave, I was not able to gather some dry wood to start a fire. We will have to make do with one another’s own body heat until the storm tapers off.”

Storm…? That had to be the source of the sound. It couldn’t be anything else.

Then, the reality of Riddle’s words finally registered. It was nearly enough to spring him from the brink of death.

Sharing body heat? If this had been any other situation, Harry might have balked at such a suggestion. But he was out of options, nearly having died for the second time that afternoon by sinking into hypothermia.

Had he been out that long that he’d nearly succumbed to it? Had he lost that much blood that he’d thought it a great idea to give in to the weakness in his body? There could be no other possibilities.

“H-how long did it take you to find me, out in the snow?” Harry asked, voice shaking.

“Three hours, possibly. I cannot be sure.”

Closing his eyes, Harry sank deeper into Riddle’s body. He couldn’t believe that he’d been out that long. Could he have passed out after his fall? Harry frowned, a gasp escaping him when he moved his arm and a searing pain shot past his elbow and up to his shoulder. It made his eyes water, reminding him once again that he was far more injured that he’d originally thought.

“Careful. Try not to move. You’ve broken your arm and ankle. It is also possible that you’ve sustained other injuries not easily seen.”

No shit, Harry wanted to say, but refrained from doing so. As much as Riddle annoyed him on a good day, the man was helping him. He’d come out to his rescue, had saved him not once, but twice, from death. Riddle had been nothing but helpful, his touches gentle and soothing even when they came from someone as strange as him.

It was uncharacteristic how such an unfeeling man in many ways managed to be understanding of his pain. Perhaps, Harry might have misjudged him? Had jumped too quickly to conclusions by convincing himself that Riddle was an unfeeling automaton?

Guilt cut through him, recalling some of the unwarranted insults he’d thrown in Riddle’s direction when the man had done nothing but make conversation. He supposed now was as good a time as any to apologize and thank him for his help. He would be dead if not for his intervention. It was the least he could do.

“Ri—”

A sharp intake of breath cut off whatever apology or amends Harry intended to convey. Hot air fanned against the back of his head before something hard poked it, a something that was unmistakably a nose—

“D-did you just bloody sniff me?” Harry said, eyes wide with disbelief when Riddle did not cease the gesture, breathing him in as if he’d been waiting years for this privilege. “Are you really doing this right now?”

Harry was too shocked to feel any anger. He was injured, exhausted, and trapped in some cave for an indeterminable amount of time. He didn’t have it in him.

“We are quite close. There isn’t much room for me to breathe elsewhere.” Riddle replied smoothly, almost too smoothly. Harry’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced, but didn’t push the issue. There was a time and a place for arguments.

Injured, trapped in a cave, while a storm was raging outside was clearly not the time nor place.

“Fine.” Harry said, giving into the warmth Riddle provided. He was still cold, fingers and feet still numb. As much as it pained him to have to rely on Riddle, he was the only source of heat available for the time being.

And if Riddle’s mouth trailed too close to his neck, or his fingers played with the hem of his winter coat? Harry would make no mention of it. Not when he huddled closer, basking in Riddle’s warm embrace.

Their bet and their tumultuous relationship, temporarily forgotten.

#Tomarry #Harrymort #fanfiction #tropes #Anonymous

[bujo-ie]

hello hello tell me about your love woes i am here to listen

ok get ready for pettiness yall

exhibit a) so like a few days before new year’s eve i had this sudden mind-blowing moment where i realized i like this person and it was while i was chatting with my friend because i was trying to avoid this dude.

we do these end of the year things where you like someone’s fb post or comment or smth. i commented on a tbh post of a mutual friend. and this guy, out of nowhere just butts in and is like ‘gtfo’ and don’t get me wrong i dont normally take things that seriously but this guy?? was basically?? my best guy friend?? last year?? and now?? he decides?? that he doesn’t?? want to interact?? with me?? anymore?? so why?? do you keep?? interfering?? with my life?? and im dying/? AL THE TIME OADOIAHUOIWWEA

basically that led to me just like panicking but also ranting to my friend about this guy because he has the audacity to literally ignore me when i want to hold a conversation with him and pull some crap on social media in front of people/??

exhibit b)i’ve been having ups and downs with this guy a lot. it really sucks when you like someone just because its really easy for them to manipulate you, and idk if that’s what he’s doing (purposefully) but i just am in constant emotional turmoil. because we don’t have classes together, i have no excuse or reason to talk to him, but i ALWAYS SEE HIM. IN THE HALLWAY. BEHIND ME BC WE HAVE LOCKERS IN LITERALLY THE SAME POSITION BUT FACING THE OPPOSITE WAY.  SAME CLASSES BUT DIFFERENT TEACHERS. SAME LUNCH PERIOD BUT DIFFERENT TABLES.

exhibit c)and because i see him so often its just so frustrating bc its like the world is mocking me and my rigged school schedule and also just the fact that i always look for him even when i shouldn’t?? like i could prob be in our large auditorium and would still be able to find him afjaofjuaeifhs

exhibit d)he only talks to me on certain occasions. because he knows the way i work, he knows that he’ll always get help for me. i’m his second best editor (second to his best friend who is rising up my friend list), and number one scorn + criticism freak when it comes to writing, i’ve basically edited every single fucking assignment he’s written and i can’t deny him. like i’ve tried and he literally said ‘please joieeee’ and i just fucking gave in just like that. like what. how. h OW

he’s nice sometimes. he always thanks me, and i always say to get someone else to do it next time. but he always comes back to me.only for whenever he needs me ://

even so, he’s still one of my friends. we wished each other happy birthday (he went out of his way to do so, and just kept saying it to me every time he saw me), i made him cookies. i know. i’m literally falling into his arms. it sucks

exhibit e)we were in three consecutive classes last year, which is how i met and became friends with this guy. once i had a breakdown at our last class (which is the last period of the day) duRING A TESTING PERIOD and i was sent to the guidance counselor to chill the fuck out. i was feeling like shit and just generally not good and after a full forty minutes of crying my face was obviously red and blotchy and gross. i plodded down to the lobby and there he is.

he asks me what happened and i explain briefly. just thinking about it makes me cry so there are tears streaming down my face. he gives me a hug

(it’s a nice hug)

exhibit e)we have a lot of mutual friends, mostly because i met them through him. the guy i mentioned earlier being his #1 editor is prob his best friend, and he’s basically my best guy friend now. earlier this year my school had a confessions pg and someone confessed abt mr. best friend

the FIRST THING that my person (i’m gonna call him msx for now) does is ask me, via chat, whether or not i sent it

do you know how heartbreaking it is to literally have the person you like ask you if you like someone else? like i was so ready to punch the screen but instead i had to settle for a ‘haha what? no’ anD HE WOULDNT BELIEVE ME AND I JUST AIDJOISJFJIUEW I LIKE YOU DUMBASS HOLY-

exhibit f)and now, after my freak out to my friend, she keeps sending me photos of him because they’re in clubs together, and i’m so torn between appreciating them and telling her to stop because my heart hurts but in a nice way

(i haven’t told her to stop yet. why do i do this to myself)

...

thanks anonie for letting me word vomit my love woes. i probably sound like a lovesick child and that’s not too far from the truth, but i still have my dignity, surprisingly :)) i might even update this lmao tell me if i should tag asks on my love woes gn yall

#rants #love woes #bujo-ie #msx #ask #answered