#and re - the shower??? property manager is not answering me i hate him so so so so so much

[mirchloe]

i was hit with two pretty big emergencies today (one within the last two hours), so i'm not going to be able to accept any additional ficlet requests, but i finished the four that i received, so they'll be up for valentine's day in a oneshot collection!! (i get my art book. i am immediately slammed in the face by problems.)

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

DRACO’S WISH [PT 4/14]

<< | < | > | >>

WORD COUNT: 2817

PAIRING: Drarry

TAGS:

hidden identity

Down and Out Draco Malfoy

Pretty Draco Malfoy

Talented Draco Malfoy

Auror Harry Potter

Smitten Harry Potter

Harry Potter Being an Asshole (just for a while)

Angst

Fluff

Angst with a Happy Ending

Falling In Love

Torture

Skipping Meals/Hunger

Cold Weather

Libraries

Hot Chocolate

SUMMARY: Draco does a good deed and is granted a wish - 12 days of anonymity in a world that hates him CHAPTER SUMMARY:    Potter shows up and insists on buying Draco a drink

on FF.net

on AO3

STORY:

December 11th , 2007

Draco wakes to an absolutely frigid morning and cold sun in his eyes, but for once it doesn’t dampen his mood. He’s positively chipper as he hurries through his morning shower and pulls on his stiff, cold clothes. He manages to get his stove working and, though he’s skipping breakfast today, he boils plain water in lieu of tea. He just barely waits until it’s cool enough before sipping it from a chipped mug, enjoying the warmth it brings.

He briefly flirts with the idea of trying a warming charm for the apartment, but it’s not a serious consideration. Why potentially waste an extinguisher when he now has a perfectly warm library available to him instead?

There’s no reason to dawdle around his apartment so he doesn’t – he slips into the empty hallway and then down the stairs and out to the street. It’s a cold but quick trek up Knockturn and then onto Diagon where the harsh weather prevents him from spending too much time admiring the splendor.

The street is less busy today, likely as a result of both the temperature and the early hour, but it’s still lively. Draco thankfully has no run-ins with Potter today on his way to the library.

The warm, familiar smell of books and ink greets him as he pushes into the building. The librarian, sitting behind the counter today, looks up and nods to him in greeting.

“Good morning,” Draco returns with a polite smile. He makes a beeline, this time, straight to the back where he’d found the volumes on wandless magic yesterday. He’d just reached the section of the book dedicated to harmonizing energy, magic, and intent, when he’d had to leave yesterday, and he’s eager to return to it.

He spends several hours there, reading theory and running through the practice exercises in the book. They’re not spells, not really, just exercises to learn to handle his magic better, and they’ve nothing to do with heat besides, so he’s not particularly worried about starting fires. They are, after all, designed for beginners, and therefore start small. A pleasant result of this, he finds, is that he’s not exhausted or hungry after practicing. Well… okay, he is hungry because he’s always hungry, but he’s not more so than usual.

People come and go from the library, but nobody pays him any mind and nor does he pay them any. Despite the steady traffic, the library is quiet, and Draco is well able to ignore them all and descend into his study.

So his day goes, until just after the library clock strikes 2 o’clock. That’s when Potter and Granger show up. Draco doesn’t see them, but he hears their voices, easily recognizable from being so often on the wireless – Granger is chattering about wizarding law and magical creates, and Potter is humouring her with one-word answers. Draco’s head shoots up, pure panic searing through his veins.

He glances wildly around but doesn’t catch sight of them – they’re somewhere else in the library – and he’s already half out of his seat and considering how best to make a break for it before his mind catches up with him. He pauses, taking a calming breath. Right, he’s being a fool again. They won’t recognize him. To them, he’s just a stranger in a library.

Draco forces himself to calm down, tentatively perching back on the edge of his armchair. He flicks open his book again, his muscles still tense as he looks unseeingly at the pages. But minutes go by and nothing happens, and Draco feels himself relaxing again.

His fingers loosen their grip on the book, and he allows himself to sink further into the armchair and actually start reading again. It’s interesting stuff, the theory behind wandless magic and the changes that must be adjusted for when not using a conduit. He lips move along silently as he reads a passage about the delicacy of shaping and directing magic by will alone.

There’s an exercise here too, walking him through the steps to produce harmless sparkles and then working through controlling the amount, shape, and intensity of them. It’s not a direct, straightforward endeavor, of course, where one simply follows a series of instructions and achieves a result. This is more nuanced, the instructions more abstract, requiring interpretation and creativity to apply them.

But Draco has had a lot of practice working with his magic, and many of these concepts come easily to him now. He feels he’s progressing though the book faster than he would ordinarily, had he not spent so much time reaching into himself and trying to guide his own magic.

The text expects that it will take several days of practice to even pull one’s magic up far enough to get sparkles, but it’s infinitely easier than heating charms and Draco has them dancing around before him in a matter of minutes. Changing their properties is more of a challenge, one that Draco dives into with enthusiasm. He spends the better part of an hour learning how to make sparkles bend to his whim.

He’s having fun making little sparkle fireworks when he looks up and sees Harry Potter standing there and staring at him. He lets out a surprised squawk, the sparkles fizzling out unceremoniously.

Potter flushes and scratches at the back of his head. “Sorry about that,” he says. “You’re the bloke from yesterday right? The one I ran into?”

Draco’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, not sure what to say. Potter remembers him, from bumping into him in the street. Potter is talking to him. Normally. What the fuck?

The silence hangs, awkward, for a beat before Potter fills it. “I really am sorry you know,” he says, and it’s no less awkward now that he’s speaking. Draco casts about for something to say.

“I…it’s fine,” he settles on faintly. He’d said as much yesterday hadn’t he? He distinctly remembers babbling nonsense of that sort at Potter.

Potter shakes his head, scuffing his strange muggle shoes against the warm carpet as he peers at Draco again. “You ran off so quickly yesterday,” he says, surprisingly unsure. “I didn’t get a chance to offer, but I’d like to buy you a drink. To make it up to you.”

Draco frowns, opening his mouth to tell Potter, again, that it’s fine, but Potter heads him off. “I know you said it’s okay,” he says quickly, “but it would make me feel better.” When Draco still doesn’t answer, he tilts his head, gives him a beseeching look that makes him look a little like a baby Crup, and says “Please?”

“Umm…” Draco replies intelligently, clutching his book hard and holding ut in front of him like a barrier. He shouldn’t accept, he really shouldn’t. He’s already decided it best that he stay far away from Potter, no matter how cutely he’s behaving at the moment. If Potter remembers who he is, it will ruin everything.

But Potter is offering him a free drink that isn’t water, and maybe Draco can get him to throw in a bit of food that won’t deplete his meagre stash…

Draco’s stomach turns restlessly, reminding him of how perpetually hungry he is. He knows that he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist.

“Throw in a bagel and I’ll consider it,” he decides, and Potter’s eyes light up.

“Brilliant!” He says eagerly, bouncing slightly on his heels like an overexcited kid. He gestures at Draco’s book. “Let’s get that checked out and we can go,” he says.

He wants to go right now? Draco looks at him in shock, but he seems perfectly serious, still looking over at Draco’s book.

“Oh, erm, never mind that. I’ll just…” Draco trails off awkwardly, nodding toward the shelves. Potter waits as he gets up and re-shelves the book.

Potter takes his arm as soon as he’s finished putting the book away, half-leading and half-dragging him toward the front of the library. They take a small detour to the section on wizarding law, where Granger is browsing the shelves with single-minded determination, so that Potter can call his goodbyes. He barely waits for her reply before he’s leading Draco away again.

They walk down Diagon Alley for a way, passing half-a-dozen little cafes that Potter shows no interest in, and then turn off onto another little street. It’s also a commercial street, but it’s smaller than Diagon, quainter and quieter. It’s still resplendent with Christmas lights, but it has a different air; the quieter atmosphere lends a sense of magic to the air that catches Draco’s breath and causes him to gaze about in awe. It’s such a mundane thing to be excited about, something his younger self would not have even noticed, but now that his life consists of the drab, bland, dankness of Knockturn Alley, he doesn’t take such beauty for granted.

Potter draws them to a stop then, and he turns to see him watching Draco with a smile. Draco quirks an eyebrow, but Potter merely shakes his head, before turning and gesturing to a tiny shop.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but they have the best drinks here. I swear it.” Potter says. He pulls open the door and holds it for Draco, who feels oddly flustered at the gesture. He ducks his head and murmurs his thanks before he steps inside, moving out of Potter’s way and looking around.

It’s tiny and cramped, with mismatched furniture, scrubbed wooden floors, and pale-yellow walls. It’s not fashionable at all, but it’s bright and warm and Draco likes it. A young witch is behind the counter, chatting with a wizened old man, and other than that the store is empty.

Potter steps up beside him and turns a warm smile on him. “What would you like to drink?” He asks, gesturing to the menu written in chalk behind the front counter. Draco looks over to it, but there are so many options – the board is covered completely with cutesy writing declaring the names of various drinks – that he can’t decide. Tea is a treat for Draco these days.

Potter is still looking at him expectantly, and he burns in embarrassment at failing such a simple task as deciding his drink. “Surprise me,” he hedges. Potter nods, starting to turn away, and Draco adds hastily, “but make it sweet!” He feels his cheeks flush again as Potter chuckles.

“Alright, something sweet,” he says, his green eyes impossibly soft. Draco has never seen those eyes look at him with anything but hatred, and having it now sends electric sparks through his body. Draco shudders, forcing the thought away.

Belatedly, he realises Potter’s saying something to him. “Sorry?” He asks. His face is going to be permanently red at this point.

Potter raises his eyebrows, but he’s smiling. “I said, why don’t you get us seats and I’ll get the drinks.”

Draco raises an eyebrow of his own and looks pointedly around the empty café. “That may be a hardship, what with this crowd, but I’ll try my very best,” he cheeks. Potter outright laughs at that.

“Alright, Mr. Sass, just go sit down,” he says. Draco smirks but turns to comply, while Potter approaches the counter. He hears, from behind him, the girl at the counter saying “Harry! Back so soon?”, and Potter answering with something too quiet for Draco to hear.

He chooses the little round table nearest to the front window and sits, looking out at the twinkling street. Once upon a time, he would have looked down on a place like this. Now, he barely feels that he belongs, with his holey gloves and tattered, baggy clothes. He privately thanks Potter’s apparently overly active sense of remorse that’s led to him being here.

Potter soon comes back, levitating a mug of something steaming, that’s topped generously with whipped cream, and a freshly toasted bagel in front of him. It’s soon followed by a platter of pastries that slides into place between them. Draco blinks at these and then looks questioningly up at him. “What are these then?” he asks. Potter flushes.

“They’re – ah – something sweet,” he explains haltingly, scratching at the back of his head. Merlin, no wonder his hair was a mess. Still, it’s an exceedingly decent thing of Potter to do, and certainly not anything he’s used to.

“Thank you,” he replies, quiet but honest. Potter beams at him, and Draco smiles back as he sips at his drink, which he is delighted to find is hot chocolate.

“So…” says Potter, sliding into the seat across from him, “I never did get your name.”

Draco freezes – can he give Potter his own name? Will that break this anonymity he’s been granted? He’s not sure, and he doesn’t want to chance it.

“Emory,” he says, thinking of the dashing love interest in the romance novel sitting on his bed. “Emory Hughes.”

“Emory Hughes,” Potter repeats, smiling. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“I know,” says Draco without thinking, then clamps his mouth shut, eyes widening. Luckily, Potter doesn’t seem suspicious.

“I had wondered,” he says instead, laughing, and Draco is struck again by how handsome Potter is. He swallows nervously and, to distract himself, takes a pastry and pops it into his mouth. It’s good – incredible really – flaky, buttery, and filled with sweet cream. Draco can’t help his moan, closing his eyes in pleasure. Merlin, and he’d just wanted a bagel!

Potter has stopped laughing somewhat abruptly, and Draco opens his eyes to see him picking up his mug and taking a huge gulp. He then immediately flails, sputtering “Hot! Hot!” and dripping hot chocolate from his mouth and probably from his nose also.

The sight of Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, dribbling hot chocolate is too much, and Draco can’t hold in his delighted laughter. Potter manages to get a hold of himself, dabbing at his mouth with his serviette and blushing furiously as he glares at Draco, but that only makes Draco laugh harder. Potter glares for a moment longer, and then he is laughing too. “I’m not usually this clumsy, honest!” Potter defends once they’ve both calmed down.

Draco shakes his head, tearing his bagel apart and smirking at Potter. “I don’t know,” he replies, “first you bowled me over in the Alley yesterday, and now this.” He sighs dramatically. “I think you will just have to accept the obvious – you are an utter klutz”

Harry pouts. “I hope you’ll accept all of my flaws then,” he says, and Draco grins.

“If your flaws continue buying me hot chocolate and pastries, I might just be persuaded,” he returns easily. He sips at said hot chocolate to make his point and smirks at Potter.

“Such a hardship,” Potter says. “How will my flaws and I manage?”

Draco throws a crumb of toasted bagel at him. “How dare you,” he sniffs. “I’m a delight, I’ll have you know.”  

Potter gives him a once over, smirks, and says, “I see that.” Draco sputters, red-cheeked. Is Potter flirting with him? No, that can’t be possible, he’s reading too much into it. That’s just to be expected when nobody’s talked to him like a human in years, he supposes – a single modicum of human decency is shown to him, and he thinks he’s being flirted with.

Draco inwardly rolls his eyes at him self and pops a bite of bagel into his mouth. “Well, good to know those glasses are good for something then,” he says at length, far too late. Potter doesn’t call him out on it, though his green eyes are amused as he sips his hot chocolate.

Potter proves surprisingly easy to talk to, a notion that once would have sent Draco into a conniption. He’s always thought the man fit, but now as he sits chatting with him, he finds that his company is honestly pleasant as well. The afternoon passes faster than he realises, and by the time they get up to leave, the sun is hanging low and painting the sky bright with colour.

Potter walks with him back to the library, where he needs to meet up with Granger, and Draco is almost regretful as they arrive.

“Thank you, Potter,” he says, stopping just inside the library door.

“Call me Harry,” Potter insists. Draco frowns – that’s decidedly too weird. It’s not as though they’re going to see each other again anyway.

“Goodbye Potter,” he insists instead. Potter opens his mouth to argue, but at that moment Granger emerges from the stacks and catches sight of them. She makes a beeline toward Potter, and Draco nods a greeting at her and steps out of the way. He catches sight of Potter’s pout in the corner of his eye and grins to himself, feeling lighter than he has in years as he makes his way back to the wandless magic section.

[angstama]

a different love | l.dh

Pairing: lee donghyuck (nct haechan) x reader Genre: angst  Warnings: profanities , cheating  Summary: in which both you and donghyuck shares a different kind of love for each other. words: 2982 words a/n: this is so painful i’m dead sfghjklgfgkl, there will probably be a part 2 hahhhhhhhh also it’s my birthday tomorrowwwww so yes a hyuck fic!!!!!!!

here you sat alone in your work room, a bubble of devastation budding in your heart as your eyes scanned the monthly bank statement sent to your email. you re-read again the one transaction that ultimately captured your attention since the beginning, a hefty sum of sixty five million dollars thrown out to god who knows where with the limited amount of information given to you. you knew this wasn't your spending but you weren’t panicking either because you were almost sure who the culprit behind it was and you weren’t surprised. 

the loud booming bass of the music echoed throughout your property, a party going on in the living room of your own home;  a party that you weren’t invited to. not that you minded anyways, parties had never been your thing. the first time it happened without your consent, you were infuriated, enraged by the betrayal of respect from your lover but it didn't matter anymore right now, you had gotten used to living in a home that you no longer had any say to anything. 

you massaged your temples, a heavy sigh escaping your lips along the way, feeling the awful exhaustion sitting on you. a part of you yearned for your husband’s arms to be wrapped around you and assuring you that everything is going to be okay while another part of you screamed psycho at you, telling you to snap out of it that it will no longer happen anymore.you weren’t like this in the past. both of you weren’t like this in the past. he wasn't like this in the past. and you weren’t sure what had gone wrong along the way. 

you strode over to the balcony, taking a peak of the view of your backyard which is currently filled with countless of wasted walking bodies having the time of their life. “ what a sight.” you muttered sarcastically under your breath, eyes wandering around in search for donghyuck, only to no avail. you don't bother anymore, figuring out that he’d probably be drinking his heart out and be up to his usual self, dancing on top of the grand piano or passed out on the floor. 

as much as you hate to admit it, you still love donghyuck despite having your heart broken over and over again everyday. he was and still is your everything. you knew the you seven years ago you would probably beat the living crap out of you if she found out that you allowed yourself to hurt this much over a guy. but you had fallen way too deep to find a way out of this toxicity. after all, both of you had vowed to love each other, for better or for worse. you missed the days where it was just the two of you against the world. where texts seems to be coming in every second because he refused to leave you alone, when everyday was like a celebration because being together meant so much to the both of you and the times when you could strip away your tough front and be truthfully bare in front of him without the fear of being judged. 

“gosh lee donghyuck i swear,” you stomp your feet hardly against the ground, reaching out for the remote control that he hid behind his back. “ah ah no, it’s my turn to pick the movie tonight remember sweetheart?” he cocked an eyebrow. your shoulders slumped defeatedly, putting on your cutest pout to coax your boyfriend into letting you choose the film for the night. “ it ain’t gonna work on me missy,” he ruffled your hair messily before plopping back down on the couch, tugging your wrists along with him so that you’d settle down next to him to watch the film he chose. “ i chose romance by the way,” he grinned sheepishly, knowing that you weren’t a huge fan of the genre romance. in fact, it was a known fact that you don't even try to deny it back then. 

you crossed your arms across your chest, shaking your head to your dismay, “it better be good lee.” you huffed. donghyuck took your hands into his, pulling you closer to his body, so close that you could almost feel his lips at the tip of ears, “oh trust me, it will be good babe,” he chuckled softly, adjusting his gaze back to the screen that soon started playing the movie. 

and he didn't lie. the movie was beautiful and humorous at the same time.  but you were way too proud to admit that you had taken a liking to the story line behind that film. knowing all too well that hyuck will always be using it to his advantage to get you to accept whatever romantic film he suggested the next time. apparently a game of ‘catch’ had begun without even both of you knowing, with donghyuck as the catcher and you as the runner which resulted in an intense running session around the house. “come on, you loved it! admit it!” he exclaimed excitedly, trailing quickly right behind. you rolled your eyes playfully, coming to a halt in your tracks to which he swiftly turned you around, trapping you in between the wall and him. “no comments,” you bit your lips, trying to hold in the smile that kept going against you stubbornly. donghyuck shook his head, a clear glint of adoration for you shining in his eyes. “you’ll be the death of me you know that?” he laughed wholeheartedly, closing in the space between the both of you as he went in to attack you with fluttering pecks on your neck. “ and you’ll be the death of me, hyuck” you said truthfully, throwing your arms around his shoulder in anticipation for donghyuck’s actions. his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, allowing you to lean in closely to his body warmth. you both rested your forehead against each other, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, neither of you wanting to break the intimate moment that was going on. 

“kiss me.” you whispered. “gladly.” he answered simply. you saw donghyuck broke out into a soft smile before leaning in too kiss you deeply. what happened from then on was undoubtedly one of the best memory donghyuck had given you and it was that night when you realised how much you truly loved donghyuck more than anything else in this world. 

 you threw your head back in frustration, not allowing the tears that had welled up in your eyes to escape. “gosh, you're so annoying y/n.” you groaned. it was a happy memory to you yet you knew these aren't tears of joy which made it even much more unbearable for you. you certainly didn't know loving donghyuck made you so vulnerable. 

you carefully locked the door of your working room before making your way to your shared bedroom with hyuck, a wave of relief rushing over you when you realised there weren’t anyone on the same level as you. it seemed like someone had sealed off the second level of your property from the sea of people, giving you your personal space that you desperately needed. you wanted to believe that this was donghyuck’s doing but you knew it was too good to be true. ever since your marriage with donghyuck had started to fall apart, he no longer cared about your wellbeing, doing however and whatever he likes as long as it pleases him. 

                »»—-————-————-　✼   ————-————-——««

you woke up the next day with donghyuck sleeping soundly beside you with his back facing you, an uncommon sight to see every morning. but you were much more surprised that he managed to make it back on the bed after the party. usually he’d be too tired to even climb up the stairs hence ending up on the couch or floor the next morning. you must've been heavily asleep when he entered the room in his drunk state, because the photo frame of you and donghyuck that was once on your nightstand was now rested on the wooden floor of your room, drowned in its own broken glass pieces, but you heard nothing last night.

“ what are you looking for?” you heard someone ask from behind you as you searched from the broomstick. “just looking for the broomstick, hyuck accidentally broke the photo frame,” you hummed a reply back. you felt the person casually leaning into you from the back, casually reaching out for whatever is on the shelve above you on the wall of the storage room. “here. mom kept it up there because pluto used to bite the strands of the broomstick, making a mess.” the someone filled you in, chuckling softly at the end. 

pluto was the dog that you had adopted from the animal shelter when you first moved out of your parent’s house. a white pomeranian breed that jumps excitedly at whoever he meets. a true gem which became your best friend over the years. you can still remembered clearly when pluto first met donghyuck.

“i . can’t . breathe.” donghyuck burst into fits of laughter with pluto still licking all over his face. pluto had just attacked your lover upon arrival, showering your then boyfriend with the same affection that he gave you everyday. you were in awe, the two of your favourite beings already getting along without having you to ask anything of them. “ aren’t you a cute one,”donghyuck cooed in adoration, nuzzling his nose in its stomach in the process. “who’s the cuter one then? me or him?” you challenged. donghyuck’s eyes shifted between you and pluto simultaneously, teasing you by taking his own time to come up with an answer. “hm who is cuter?”he probed, the ends of his lips tugging into a mischievous grin, “ of course it’s pluto!” 

pluto barked in celebration as donghyuck picked him up and twirled him in circles, leaving you on the floor seated, dumbfounded by your boyfriend’s pick and still in denial that you had just lost to your dog. “fine! date pluto then!” you huffed pettily in a joking tone, looking away to avoid donghyuck’s sudden gaze on you. 

before you know it, donghyuck had just scooped you out of your seat, picking you up in bridal style. “oh my god lee donghyuck! what are you doing?” you screamed.

“you are such a drama queen you know that?” he flicked your forehead. you let out a yelp in pain, flicking his forehead back instinctively, catching him by surprise. “and you are such a brat, you know that?” you fired back sarcastically, earning nothing but being dropped on the couch by donghyuck. he sat on top of you on your abdomen, pinning you down on your cushioned couch. “what am i again?” he asked threatenly. you didn't hesitate, instead you answered his question confidently loud and clear, “ a brat.” you stucked out your tongue playfully. you loved playing him and he knows that you just weren’t going to back down from whatever you both were having. donghyuck scoffed, pulling you arms above your head along the way, “how about i show you how much of a brat i can be huh?”

you turned to see jisung smiling back at you, handing you the objects that you were looking for. jisung is your helper’s son who is just a few years younger than you. you would say you knew him for a few years right now. you both shared a good relationship and you absolutely respect the filial side of his, taking over his mother’s chores often to ease her burdens. you gracefully took the broomstick and dustpan from his hands, making sure to thank him in return, “thank you jisung, i’ll see you downstairs later yeah!”

you quickly cleaned up the area, inspecting everywhere the room over and over again to make sure there isn't any little glass shreds left on the floor. the last thing you need is to have anyone hurting themselves physically, yes anyone meaning specifically donghyuck since he is the only one that enters your shared bedroom besides you, not even the helper could enter this room as well as your working office room. 

“good morning mrs park,” you greeted your helper, joining her and jisung in the kitchen. you threw your car keys on the counter, walking over to pour yourself a cup of coffee that was freshly brewed this morning, “cooking the hangover soup?” you asked, although the familiar smell of the dish already gave it away. because of your tight work schedule, you had requested your helper to help you prepare hangover soup for donghyuck the next morning after every party. and although it wan’t part of her job scope to be cooking, mrs park was more than happy to help you out, following closely to your recipie that you had adjusted to donghyuck’s liking too. “yes ma’am,” she smiled warmly. 

“mrs park! just call me y/n remember? even jisung calls me by my name now!” you exclaimed, shooting the brown haired boy a playful look.

“oh i’m sorry y/n, you know how it gets for old people.” she responded with a slight banter as she turned off the fire on the stove. “are you and your husband going out on a yacht staycation tonight? do you need me to help you pack your clothes? you’ve been so busy-...” she continue trailing on. your face scrunched in confusion, not understanding what was she talking about besides the part about your busy work schedule. “i’m sorry but where did you hear it from?” you asked politely. 

jisung sat up straight, noticing that something isn’t right but contemplated not to say anything. “ i overheard sir making a booking at the yacht club just a couple of weeks ago, said that it is a short staycation for the next three days...?” 

“oh,” you mused almost inaudibly, a pang of hurt flashing across your eyes. you refused to let yourself fall in front of them though. he’s not even telling you that he will be away now? a yacht party out of nowhere? what else could he be possibly hiding you from? “i’ll go first,” you cleared your throat with a half bow, dismissing yourself from the mother and son. pure devastation taking over your heart and mind and you don't know what to do.  

                 »»—-————-————-　✼   ————-————-——««

you allow work to consume you in your office, going through documents after documents. and even though your found it hard to concentrate with an aching heart cutting you up every second, you tried your best to not let it affect your work life. you see, your career meant as much as donghyuck had meant to you. it was all your blood sweat and tears that helped you built your empire today and you’re determined to keep it alive till your last breath. being a film director and a scriptwriter sure wasn’t easy but it was your passion and something that donghyuck had always told you he admired about. when you first made your mark out in the media industry, you never expected yourself to be in the position you are in today and you’re very thankful to the people that had your back since the first day, including donghyuck, he used to be your number one fan in fact, though you're not so sure about now.

you heard a knock at the door of your office and you looked up to see your secretary standing at the other side of the door, her usual smile plastered on her face. you gestured her to enter, returning your focus back on to the tiny arial fonts imprinted on the paper. “you seemed a little out of it today,” she begun, plopping down on the couch in your office. “do i?” you mumbled halfheartedly. “yeah, very. there’s like this creepy dark aura around you,” she said lightly in attempt to throw a lively banter but you knew very well that behind its tone, it wasn't a joke at all. 

you finally gave your attention to the petite girl staring straight at you, looking at your best friend with tired eyes. “i don't know, joohyun,”you breath a sigh, “i really miss my donghyuck. the one that i fell in love with, not the one that seemed to love my money more than me,” it is true. donghyuck indeed seemed to love your money more than he loves you, constantly spending your money recklessly as if it was his. he would much rather throw your assets into the never ending nights of parties than to be anywhere near you. “ i tried to talk to him about us, but he always shrugged it off. i’m so tired of trying to figure out what’s happening between us. we live under the same roof but we barely even talk. i don't even know if he loves me still,” you let it out, a clear indication of longing and desperation in your voice lingering. “ if there's anything that i learnt in my years of failed relationships...” she trailed off, glancing over in the process to make sure that you were listening before continuing on sensibly, “ communication is the key to every conflict. you have to talk to him. if he doesn't care less to fix this relationship then there isn’t any point holding onto it. a ship is meant to take you somewhere so if a friendSHIP or a relationSHIP is not taking you anywhere then abandon that SHIP.” the brown haired girl advised you, exaggerating the ‘ships’ with hand gestures along the way to get it inside your head which it did eventually because the next thing you knew, you found yourself standing in front of the entrance of the yacht that you husband had booked, not knowing what to expect from whatever is going to happen in just a couple of seconds.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

hey bro, i know you’re busy so whenever you have the timeeee, the melancholy is setting in again & i was wondering if you might bless me with some valdo cheering up aev when she thinks she’s not good enough? 💛

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Valdo x Punk!Aevryn Word Count: 1,688 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Ah bro, I know that feel. Here is an almost 2k word hug xo

If there was one thing that Jaskier and Valdo could put aside their differences for, it was Aevryn. They’d done it as youths when she performed and they did it now as they worked to keep her from checking the hits her newly released demo were receiving. It went well for most of the day. Valdo woke up ludicrously early just to make sure he’d be there to pounce – somewhat literally – when she woke. After that lengthy distraction he pulled her into the shower with him before she could check her phone. Right on cue as they were just toweling off, Jaskier showed up at the door. He and Aevryn had a pact that if ever one of them showed up on the other’s doorstep and invoked Friend Code, the other had to drop everything and spend the day with them. Valdo made a big show of being dramatically grumpy about Jaskier arriving, such a big show that at some point Jaskier wasn’t sure how much was for Aevryn’s benefit and how much was just amusing himself, but he managed to get her out the door. Aevryn noticed her phone wasn’t on her as soon as they got in the car and Jaskier texted Valdo quickly to let him know that their first plan hadn’t worked as she went inside to find it. Valdo quickly tucked the phone in his jacket pocket, loathe to hide her property but desperate to keep her from seeing the numbers.

“It hasn’t just disappeared, Valdo, I swear I had it on the nightstand when we fell asleep last night,” she said, grasping under the bed though she knew Valdo paid their housekeepers handsomely enough that every inch stayed dust bunny free.

“We were pretty well knackered by the end of things, love, there’s a fair chance it got left behind in a restaurant or something or other,” Valdo lied lamely, frantically texting Jaskier for ideas to stall. Aevryn’s head popped up over the side of the bed, a swath of wavy hair falling into her face. She looked like a very adorable, very grumpy groundhog popping out of its hole but Valdo was just wise enough not to make that observation at that moment.

“Valdo I’m not going without my phone. What if something happened and you needed to reach me?” she asked.

“I’d call Jaskier,” he answered quickly. She cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

“You’d call Jaskier?” she replied skeptically.

“If it were a real emergency, yes. I’m talking lost limbs and extensive blood loss. But I’ll endeavor to be safe in your absence,” he crooned as he tried to pull her to the door. She was almost over the threshold, Jaskier walking towards the door to escort her the rest of the way, when her phone went off in his jacket. There was no mistaking that it was her phone because the song that rang out was a punk cover of Barbie Girl, an inside joke between her, Yennefer, Win, and Y/N developed during a girl’s night. Her sea green eyes filled with hurt and suspicion as she stared Valdo down, reaching into his pocket to pull it out and finding a missed call from Win. A voicemail was left a second later and she opened it.

“Babe don’t even sweat it,” Win’s voice, filled with disdain said, “We know that it’s a solid album and the right people will catch on soon too. I know you hate taking favors from Valdo’s people but it’s only nepotism if you’re not qualified. I say call those bitches up and say Hello, This is Aevryn Swift and I’m here to kick ass and play beautiful music and I’m all out of ass. Or something like that. Idk, we’ll work out the details, call me when you can, bye!”

Valdo exhaled heavily, making eye contact with Jaskier who still stood a few steps away, both watching as Aevryn silently went to the bandcamp page to look at the download numbers. She stared at them for a moment, unblinking, and then nodded.

“Ok,” she said with eerie calm before turning to Jaskier, “This was just a ploy, right? You don’t actually need to invoke Friend Code?”

“Ah – well – Er… no,” Jaskier answered sheepishly. She nodded again and pushed past Valdo to walk into the house. The two men exchanged a last, regretful look and then Jaskier turned back to his car and Valdo re-entered the house, prepared for a raging fight.

Aevryn put the kettle on and picked up the little pile of mail on the kitchen island and Valdo walked in cautiously, waiting for… something. She glanced up, a cool but serene look on her face.

“Did you want some tea?” she asked.

“No thank you, dear heart, but I do want to talk about the likelihood of you trying to murder me in my sleep tonight,” he replied. She rolled her eyes, turning to pull a mug down from the cupboard. Not even one of her usual, fun mugs, just a standard green one that she teased Valdo for using because it was so “boring.” These were all very bad signs but also new ones and he wasn’t sure what they meant. After knowing Aevryn for half of his life he wasn’t used to this feeling, and he didn’t like it.

“I’m not going to kill you. You were trying to keep me from checking, right?” she asked, peering over her shoulder. He nodded, curls bouncing slightly as he did, and she nodded back.

“I get it. I mean, it wasn’t cool, but I probably would have done the same thing,” she said as she fixed her cup.

“It is bullshit, Aev. Win’s right, we have connections-”

“No, Valdo. Anyone can get an album released, hell I already did it. But money can’t make people like or care about something if they don’t. Even if I was willing to consider it – which I’m not – it wouldn’t make a difference. I wanted to give it a shot, I did, now I know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as she poured an amount of sugar that Valdo would have been disgusted by before but barely registered at the moment.

“Aevryn if I didn’t know any better I’d say it sounded like you were planning to stop performing. But there’s no way that could be true because that would be utterly bizarre and impossible because music is a part of who you are and you have a rare talent that should be shared with the world. Right? Aev?”

Valdo moved a bit closer as he spoke, eyes softening with worry and Aevryn deftly slipped by him with her mug, unable to look him in the eyes as she replied.

“Don’t be dramatic, Valdo, you’re just biased. And it’s fine. Jaskier will be thrilled to have me work full time as social media manager again and it’s not like I still can’t play music,” she shrugged, settling into her favorite chair in the living room. Valdo propped his hands on his hips and fixed her with a stern but not unloving expression.

“Aevryn Deirdre Swift-Marx you are not going to give up playing music because some people on the internet didn’t pay attention to your music as quickly or as much as they should have. There is no shame in pushing back and doing what you love because you love it and fuck the rest,” he argued.

“There’s also no shame in deciding not to invest more time and effort in something just for it to be ignored,” she shot back, a flicker of anger in her eyes. Good, he thought, better anger than apathy.

“You did work hard. You wrote beautiful music, you practiced and performed, you edited and you put so much into this album. And it deserves to be recognized and appreciated,” he said, a vehemence in his voice that could only be described as “ferocious validation.”

“I did,” she replied, “I worked very hard and I think the music is good, why don’t they notice? Why don’t they care?”

Valdo caught the glossiness in her eyes before she could look away and nearly pitched her mug of tea over the chair onto the hardwood floors as he tried to pull her into a hug. He held her, awkwardly half-standing/half-crouching, not caring that his arm was falling asleep or anything but the fact that she held him back with her free arm, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I know it’s hard, love. But I have a proposition for you,” he said. She pulled back to look into his emerald eyes as he moved into a full crouch by her side, fixing her with an entreating look.

“What?” she asked.

“Today, be sad. Be angry. Be whatever you need to be. Take a break, perhaps. Process through it. But then forget it. Or let it fuel you. The only thing I ask is that you not let other people stop you from doing what you love. And even though it was hard work, I know you loved every part of it. And that deserves recognition and respect but most of all it deserves to exist. Because it makes you happy.”

She considered his words, pulling her hand inside the sleeve of her too-large sweater to wipe her face before tilting her head back and sighing.

“Ok,” she said, “I won’t quit the music industry forever. Not today, at least.”

“That’s all I ask,” Valdo said, rising to press a gentle kiss against her cheek, “Now how about I make you some fresh tea, because that’s gone cold, and you burrow under that blanket and pick something ridiculous for us to watch.”

“French Kiss is not ridiculous, it is classic and underappreciated,” you argued hotly. He smiled, pleased to see his spitfire back as he pulled the mug from your hands and thrust the quilted blanket into your lap.

“Whatever you say, sweetling,” he replied, and then set off to make her more tea, carefully selecting a mug shaped like an otter and searching for some biscuits before she could think to ask.

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 12: A Friend For The Lonely Beast At Last

(Click here for chapter 11!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The following days went by way too fast, and the weekend was over before Severus knew it.

He had spent the two chilly autumn days locked away in his quarters, not leaving the cold confines of the dungeons even once. While he would normally spend his free days hunting for rare potion ingredients and interesting literature or working on improving his already impeccable brewing technique, he had passed the past 48 hours buried beneath countless pillows and thick blankets in his large four-poster bed. The only contact to the outside world had been provided by the school’s ever-diligent house elves, who had both kept the Potions Master’s rooms clean and delivered warm meals three times a day – not that the man had touched much of the food.

On Monday morning, Severus woke up with a throbbing headache. A quick look at his watch told him that breakfast was probably already in full swing, but he didn’t feel like eating. Most of all, however, he didn’t feel like facing a certain brunette before he absolutely had to. So instead, he got up and moved to the bathroom with sagging shoulders.

As he was standing in the shower a few minutes later, letting the icy cold water pour over his lithe body, he tried hard to ignore the intrusive thoughts that had been plaguing him all throughout the past days. They all had something to do with some newly discovered and rather confusing feelings for a little know-it-all, of course.

While he had dismissed his earlier impure thoughts about Granger as the simple result of prolonged abstinence, these confounding emotions were of a whole new calibre. Physical attraction was one thing; he could deal with that. But fancying one of his own students – let alone maybe falling in love with them – was simply too much. It made him feel almost physically ill.

Severus had never been one to handle his own feelings well, and his relative inexperience when it came to the opposite sex – especially in the romantic sense – only added to his confusion and uncertainty. The only woman he had ever been interested in, the only one he had ever loved, was Lily. And he had always thought that she was the love of his life. Even almost two decades after her violent death, her mental image was still looming over his scarred heart. The redhead had been the one thing that had kept him going throughout the war; she had been the only reason he had tried so desperately to keep that stupid Potter boy alive – and the only reason he had continued to live.

But now, he was slowly but surely starting to question all that. Whatever it was that he was beginning to feel towards Granger was so different and so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. Somehow, it even felt more powerful than his love for Lily had ever been to begin with. And over the weekend, the wizard had come to the shocking conclusion that the only reason he had ever been that obsessed with his childhood sweetheart was because she had been one of the few people to ever show a genuine interest in him as a person. Whether Severus liked it or not, he had always been someone who craved the attention and acceptance of others. That had been the main reason he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord in the first place. Lily had been his friend, she had treated him with respect; and teenage-him had mistaken that for love. Looking back, he realised that it had never been her that he’d been craving; it had been her kindness towards him. The fact that his personal archenemy had also quickly started to show an interest in her had only made Snape more determined to make her his, of course.

His feelings towards Granger were of a different nature. She had never been his friend; in fact, Severus was pretty much sure that she hated him just as much as the rest of the student body – even if she never really showed it. So it wasn’t her continued affection he desired. No, he wanted her. He wanted to run his calloused fingers through her voluminous curls, he wanted to listen to her babble on for hours about some random boring topic, he wanted to hold her and sleep next to her like they had done in his office. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t striving to possess a woman but rather to give himself to her – and it was driving him absolutely insane. Even forgetting the fact that she was his pupil and personal apprentice, those feelings still managed to make him feel vulnerable and weak.

The half-blood sighed before stepping out of the shower and drying himself off with a towel. He took his time with the rest of his morning routine, but it didn’t take long before he found himself in the Potions classroom, surrounded by an annoying, hyperactive flock of second-years. And unfortunately, it seemed to only take a blink of an eye before those young students were then soon replaced by the seventh-years – with Hermione Granger being on time for the first time in weeks.

Severus noticed her presence instantly. She looked the same as always – her brown mane was pulled back into a classic Dutch braid, and her spick and span uniform was topped off with her polished Head Girl badge – yet somehow, the sight of her gave him an armada of butterflies in his stomach. She must have noticed his intense gaze, too; as she gave him a quick but radiant smile before hurrying to her usual seat in the front row. He would have lied if he had said that that small gesture didn’t make his dark heart jump a little.

Staggered by his inner turmoil, the professor frowned as he waited for the class to settle down. As soon as the last chitchat faded away, he briskly made his way towards the front of the classroom. Lightly tapping his wand against the black board, a dozen or so rows of brewing instructions appeared.

“Today –“

He let out a small cough, trying to get rid of that sudden lump in his throat.

“Today, you will be brewing Doxycide. Now, as you all surely are aware, this specific potion has the purpose of temporarily stunning Doxies. These fairy-like creatures are common household pests, so this remedy will likely prove useful to each and every one of you at some point. As anyone with even just a handful of braincells would know, these beasts are –“

The Gryffindor’s eyes were following his every move, and he was uncomfortably aware of that. They seemed to burn through his skin right into his soul.

“Um … bad.”

The little slip-up had an instant impact. There was immediate commotion, with loud chatter practically bouncing between the heads of shocked teenagers, and Severus’ eyes grew big as he unsuccessfully tried to mask his own surprise – never in his entire career as a teacher had he ever tripped over his own tongue like this before!

Not having the slightest clue how to handle this most unprecedented situation, he simply muttered a quick “The required ingredients can be found in the supply cupboard. You may get started.” before disappearing into his office, his long black robes whirling up around him as he did so.

*************** *************** ***************

Snape waited an extra ten minutes following the chime of the old Clock Tower before finally emerging from his hiding place, making certain to give the students enough time to finish up their potions, clean their workspaces and leave.

As he re-entered the dark teaching lab, he scrunched up his large nose at the foul smell of Doxycide; while he’d become inured to most unpleasant smells over the years, he for some reason still could barely stand the solution’s disgusting stench. Nonetheless, he marched to his desk and was just about to sit down and organise the countless parchment rolls spread across the table when a soft voice suddenly caressed his ears.

“Professor Snape?”

Startled, he spun around. Standing on the doorstep, there was Granger. Her heavy book bag swinging from her delicate shoulders, she was holding another three or four books in her arms. Over the course of the lesson, some of her locks had become undone and were now framing her freckled face nicely.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to take you by surprise!” Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a quick grin.

“Miss Granger, I …” Severus was at a loss for words. Trying hard to ignore his beating heart, he was frantically searching for something, anything to say. Never before had he struggled for words like this in front of a student.

When he didn’t continue, Granger stepped into the room and said, “Oh, well, I apologise for ambushing you like this, but after what happened last Friday, I really feel like we should talk.”

“Fuck!” Severus thought panicked. “Now she will accuse me of being a bloody pervert! What kind of teacher falls asleep hugging a student, anyways?! You really should have known better, Severus! She has probably already reported you to that duffer of a headmaster and demanded to switch apprenticeships! Hell, the whole school likely already knows about that little slumber party, what were you –“

“Thank you.”

Snape was completely taken aback. “Wh-what?”

Her rosy cheeks became even redder. “I would like to thank you, sir. What you did for me was more than kind. The way you defended and comforted me … I cannot express my appreciation enough.” She flashed him another shy smile. “Oh, and also thank you for sending that house elf up to my rooms with my belongings after I ran off. That was very thoughtful of you.”

Severus could only stare at her, his mouth slightly agape. “So … you are not going to switch to another professor?” he asked meekly, the disbelief in his voice clearly audible.

Granger laughed nervously. “No, of course not,” she answered as she fiddled with the cuticle of her right middle finger. Furling her eyebrows, her gaze then wandered to the floor. “If anything, I’m here to apologise for my behaviour over the past couple of weeks. I just … overreacted, I guess.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, during which the flustered wizard did not allow himself to breathe. Could it really be that she was grateful for his actions? Perhaps she didn’t dislike him after all? While he would never – could never – permit himself to give into his irrational emotions, Severus let himself believe for just a split second that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could become something like friends instead.

Don’t be stupid! She may not hate you, but she still thinks of you as nothing more than an old, crusty codger.

Or did she? Helplessly overwhelmed by his inner conflict, he simply had to know the witch’s true feelings. Meeting her hazel eyes with his, Severus silently and effortlessly delved into Granger’s smart mind. As soon as he entered, he was amazed – he had never encountered such an extraordinary brain before. He didn’t have time to marvel at it, however, as he was in a hurry to search for any thoughts concerning his person before the Muggle-born would notice his presence inside her head.

Once he found them, however, he was stunned – there was not the least bit of hatred or disgust. Instead, Severus was rushing through a vortex of muddled memories.

First, he found himself in his own classroom more than six years ago, watching a slightly younger version of himself hold his typical introductory speech in front of a bunch of bright-faced 11-year-old Slytherins and Gryffindors. Looking around, he soon spotted a familiar bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl. Concentrating on her, he was able to feel the astonishment and admiration radiating from her.

The next memory seemed to be a couple of years younger, located yet again in the dungeon classroom. He saw himself aiding to a hurt Neville Longbottom lying on the ground after what seemed to have been another botched brewing attempt. Standing amongst the crowd of students gathered around the scene, a fourth-year Hermione Granger was looking at the two of them with both worry and fondness in her eyes. To Severus’ surprise, the latter seemed to be directed at both of them equally. He didn’t have a lot of time to process this, however, as the image promptly vanished before his own eyes.

The last distinct memory was only a few months old, taking place in a little suburban town somewhere in Muggle England. A casually dressed Granger was sitting on a small twin bed situated in what he suspected to be her bedroom. He raised an eyebrow at the various shades of green that the room was arranged in before stepping closer to the young woman. She was presently bend over a piece of parchment paper, and upon closer inspection, he realised that it was a letter from Hogwarts – an application for the apprenticeship programme, to be more exact. He watched as she used a small beige-coloured quill to fill in Professor Severus Snape next to the words Desired Tutor. Looking at her bare, makeup-free face, his breath was taken away when he saw her grin broadly, seemingly filled with excitement. Astonished, Severus slipped back into reality.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Granger asked with obvious concern in her voice, blissfully unaware that her privacy had just been invaded.

Snape gulped. “Yes, Miss Granger. Everything is quite all right.”

And when the girl smiled at him this time, he couldn’t help but smirk back at her. Perhaps they could become friends, after all.

(Click here for chapter 13!)

[belindasnyder97]

Text Your Ex Back Kindle Mind Blowing Cool Tips

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How Do I Get My Personal Property Back From My Ex

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Ex Husband Moving Back In

[jeanboehm]

Is Post Ranch Inn Worth It?

To be honest? It’s complicated.

We have been looking forward to staying at Post Ranch Inn for 8 years now, ever since we considered it for our honeymoon trip. Finally, we planned a trip for our anniversary last week and I was SO SO EXCITED to finally visit the property. Needless to say, we’ve had it up on our hotel pedestal for a long time and had very high hopes. With that said, there are a lot of hotels that we’ve stayed at over the past several year’s that we had very high hopes for that exceeded our expectations, sadly I am very sorry to say that this was not one of them.

I really hate writing this.

So many of you have messaged me, excited for our trip to Big Sur, asking if the Post Ranch Inn was everything we dreamed of and more. I am going to try my best to answer you as honestly and openly as I can, even at the risk of sounding bad.

We get invited to stay at hotels for trade or a discounted rate, but sometimes Grant and I will pay out of pocket to stay in a hotel that is on our bucket list. For example: In the past year we’ve done the Amangiri and Il San Pietro. A common misconception about Grant and I is that we get everything for free and that we won’t say anything bad about a place because it’s all done for trade.

Firstly, if you haven’t been to Big Sur it is absolutely captivating. I think that if it is your first time in the area and you are checking into the Post Ranch Inn, that you might be so overwhelmed by your surroundings to even notice the things about the hotel that I’m about to mention. Also, a LOT of our close friends stayed at the resort many many years ago and said that it was divine. However, after sharing my recent experience with people, I keep hearing the same exact feedback on repeat: The hotel is dated. 

If you have already booked your trip: You WILL have an amazing time. There was an incredible hiking trail on property and the area is truly out of this world. I would strongly suggest a Treehouse Room or any other room than an Ocean Room.

The Rooms

Upon check in, we were all geared up and psyched to check out two different room types. The Treehouse {$1,600/night} was really fun and cozy. I loved how you felt tucked away in the woods and the room felt up to date. We really loved this room and even though it didn’t have a view of the ocean, it felt very serene. Also, the Post Ranch Inn has two pools with incredible views of the ocean, so even if you aren’t staying in an Ocean room, you will still have plenty of places to take it all in. I would consider staying in a Treehouse room again {if they improved the food situation at the hotel, but more on that later}.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I was woken at 6am by the skylight shining sun directly into my face. Now, this might not be an issue for early risers eager to hit the trails. But it was a very big issue for a new mom of an 8 month old who is looking to catch up on some much needed rest. I called the front desk and they were slightly apologetic.

We transferred into our next room, the Ocean Room {$2,350/night}. Immediately upon walking in I turned to Grant…

Really? This is $2,300 a night?!

A wave of deflation came across me. Honestly? The room was just really outdated. There were spider webs all across the light fixtures. There were stains on the carpet. The shower was a shower/tub combo which doesn’t scream 5 star. I also take a bath in EVERY hotel room I can and this bathtub was not really a tub… it was more like a trough.

The view was great, but that’s all it was – a good view. I called the front desk and asked if we could move back to the Treehouse room. Then, the incredibly nice manager came to our door, knocked, said he saw my posts on social media and wanted to show us another room to move to. We proceeded to get a really nice tour of the hotel and we decided to stay put in our Ocean Room because I didn’t want to bother with moving all of our stuff and have it be an inconvenience. Thank God we were able to get that tour, because we learned a lot about the upcoming renovations (more on that later).

The manager was incredibly nice. I just don’t think his team informed him of all of the issues we were having throughout our stay.

Closer to dinner time, at 5pm, we called reception for turndown and requested our car. I asked for a drape or tarp to be placed over the skylight window and kindly explained I needed to catch up on sleep. At 8pm we returned to our room that had not been touched since we left.

We called again and they rushed over, 5 people, with a black tarp for our skylight, however they left one exposed that we didn’t know about so it was kind of a lost cause by the time the sun came up the next morning.

We checked out the next morning and received no apologies, no explanation, no “drink on the house.” After we had called reception twice and met the manager and expressed a bit of disappointment I was extremely surprised with the hotel’s lack of customer service. Being nice is one thing, being accommodating and in tune with your guests needs is quite another and Post Ranch Inn is clueless when it comes to this.

The Food

All I heard about before our stay at Post Ranch Inn was how great the food is. I don’t get it. I just don’t understand. Our food was delivered in wooden crates often times missing silverware, salt/pepper and the food was either burnt or ice cold. The menu doesn’t have very much to offer. There were three options for breakfast and a very small handful for lunch and dinner.

Also, Grant can’t have dairy which left him with hardly anything to choose from on the menu. So if you have any dietary restrictions, don’t expect any exceptions or additional offerings.

The biggest disappointment was dinner on our first night in the restaurant, because we felt pressured to order the pre-fix 3 course dinner. We didn’t know it was a pre-fix situation. No one told us that they had another a la carte menu that we could’ve ordered from. It cost us $500 and honestly the food was sub-par.

I understand that Big Sur is in the middle of nowhere and it’s probably difficult to develop a strong menu. I would suggest leaning into the simplicity of room service, versus trying to make it feel luxurious. Lean into a picnic basket or a “grill your own” dinner on the fireplaces in each room.

The Tips

Never. Have I ever. Had a hotel pressure me so much to leave a tip. Outside of normal tipping of bellman, housekeepers or room service etc… From the moment we checked into the hotel we were told about their tipping program. While it’s very nice to have the option to add tips to your bill {especially when you don’t have cash}, it wasn’t nice to feel an awkward pressure about tipping each day. There was even a card leaflet in the room about it (see below). I’m sorry – but if I am paying $2,500+ for a room, please do not leave a tip card in the room. It isn’t tasteful.

Do you hate me?

I’m just being honest. I’m sorry.

So why write anything at all if I didn’t love our experience? I would really hate if any of you who are reading this spent your hard earned money (better yet, spent your honeymoon trip!) on a place that left you feeling deflated.

When I got home, people kept asking me “How was it? I’ve always wanted to stay at Post Ranch Inn!?” When I shared my mixed and heartbroken feelings, every single person has replied that they have heard the same thing about the property – that it’s in need of some TLC.

Perhaps the Post Ranch Inn had it’s hay day when it first opened in 1992. I remember it was all the rage, with celebrities and socialites rotating in and out. It has received a few renovations and recently had a re-opening in 2017.  While some of the rooms {some of the suites and houses} are exceptionally nice and up-to-date, there are still many rooms and things about the hotel that need to be addressed. We were told that the Ocean rooms {the one we stayed in} are getting renovated this December {2019} so I am truly hoping that it will breathe new life back into what was once known as one of the greatest hotels on the California coast.

  Is Post Ranch Inn Worth It? published first on https://lenacharms.weebly.com/

[beautifulislam]

MashAllah what an absolute warrior ❤ well worth the read, such an inspiration.....

From Kavita to Nur Fatima

“Yes! I have converted to Islam.” Hearing this he started to beat me. Hearing the noise my sister reached there. She tried to rescue me. But when my husband narrated the entire story she too advanced to beat me."

It is the story of a girl who, before embracing Islam, belonged to a family associated with extremist Hindu organization Shiv Sena. Here is a brief interview of the girl named Kavita. Her name was later changed to Nur Fatima when she converted to Islam.

Question: What was your name before embracing Islam?

Answer: My name was Kavita. While my nickname was Poonam.

Question: And what is your Islamic name?

Answer: I have been named as Nur Fatima after embracing Islam.

Question: Where were you born and what is your age now?

Answer: I was born in Mumbai and I am 30. But I consider myself as a five-year-old because my knowledge about Islam is not more than a five-year-old Muslim kid’s knowledge.

Question: Would you please tell us about your education?

Answer: After schooling from Mumbai, I went to the Cambridge University for higher education. After completing my masters there I did many a computer courses. I regret that I have attained a number of degrees for this world but have done nothing for the world hereafter. Now I want to do some-thing for the purpose.

Question: Would you share with us some facts of your life?

Answer: I had joined a school in Mumbai. The school is big enough and only children of royal families studied there.

Question: Where were you married and how many children you have?

Answer: I was married in Mumbai but later I came to Bahrain along with my husband. I’ve got two sons.

Question: How did you convert to Islam?

Answer: First of all I shall love to pay my gratitude to Allah for His blessings. As Allah’s Messenger? said: “When Allah wishes well for someone He grants him under-standing of Deen.” I say Allah has showered me with His blessings. The environment in which I grew up was extremist Hindu where Muslims were severely hated. I embraced Islam after my marriage but I disliked worship of idols since my adolescence. I remember that once I had removed an idol to a washroom in my house. When my mother admonished me on it, I replied that if it cannot protect it-self then why do you seek bless-ings from it? Why do you bow be-fore it? What does it grant you? There is a ritual in our family that when a girl is married, she washes feet of her husband and drinks that water. But I refused to do so on the very first day due to which I was severely admonished. As I told you that I had joined a school (for teaching purposes) and since I was alone and used to drive my car; I started visiting a nearby Islamic centre. I heard their conversation and knew that Muslims did not worship idols. They were seeking blessings from some other person. Their Bhagwan was someone else. I liked their views. I knew later that this is Allah Who accomplishes everything.

Question: How did you attract to Islam?

Answer: the prayer (Namaz) of Muslims impressed me. I did not earlier know that it is called as prayer. However, I was aware of the fact that all the Muslims do like that. At first I thought it was some sort of exercise. I learnt that it was called as Namaz when I started visiting the Islamic centre. I dreamed of one thing whenever I went to bed. It was a four-dimensional room that I dreamed daily. I would get harassed and wake up sweating. The same room would re-appear in my dreams when I would sleep again. I learned much later about this room.

Question: How your family learnt about your conversion to Islam?

Answer: After marriage I shifted to Bahrain which helped me a lot in understanding Islam. As it is a Muslim country, our house was surrounded by Muslims. I befriended a Muslim girl. She seldom visited me but I used to visit her mostly. One day she forbade me from visiting her for it was Ramazan, the month of worship. “My worship is disturbed due to your visit” she told me. As I wanted to know about the rituals of worship performed by Muslims I got more curious and requested her not to forbid me from visiting her house. I said: “Do whatever you want to. I shall just see you doing all that. I would say nothing and would rather hear whatever you would recite.” So she did not forbade me from visiting her house. When I would see her worshipping, I my-self would be attracted to copy it. Then I asked her about the “exercise.” She told me that they call it Namaz. And that the book she used to recite is the Holy Quran. I wished to do this all. I would lock a room of my house and copy my friend in private though I did not know much about it. One day I forgot to lock the room and started offering Namaz when my husband entered there. He asked me what I was doing. I replied: “Offering Namaz.” He said: “Are you in your senses? Do you know what are you saying?” At first I got harassed. My eyes were closing out of fear. But, suddenly, I felt a huge power in my inner self that made me courageous enough to face the situation. I cried out that I had converted to Islam so I was offering Namaz. He said: “What! What have you said? Would you repeat your words?” I repeated my words with an added emphasis: “Yes! I have converted to Islam.” Hearing this he started to beat me. Hearing the noise my sister reached there. She tried to rescue me. But when my husband narrated the entire story she too advanced to beat me. I stopped her saying: “You should not come in my way. I know what is good for me and what is bad. I shall walk on the way I have adopted.” Hearing this my husband got furious. He tortured me so much that I lost my senses.

Question: Where were your children when you were being tortured? What was their age? And how did you manage to escape from there?

Answer: My children were at home when this gory drama was being played. My elder son was in 9th and younger son in 8th at that time. But after this incident I was not allowed to meet anyone. I was locked in a room. Though I had not formally embraced Islam, I had uttered these words that I had converted to Islam. One night when I was there locked in the room; my elder son came there and burst into tears in my arms. I asked where the other family members were. He said they had gone to attend some function and no one was at home. (There was our religious festival on that night.) My son requested me to escape from the house for the family wanted to kill me. I consoled him that nothing such would happen. They would not hurt me. And he should take care of himself and his younger brother. But he continued to insist amid sobs that I should escape from the house. I tried to make him under-stand that then I would be unable to meet them. But he replied that you could meet us only if you were alive. “Go away, Mama, they will murder you.” At last I decided to leave. I could never forget those harsh moments when my elder son went to wake up his younger brother and said to him: “Get up. Mama is leaving. Meet her now for who knows that whether she will meet us again or not.” The younger one had met me after many days. He was rubbing his eyes while looking at me. But when I stepped forward, he clung to me and burst into tears. The children perhaps al-ready knew all. He just asked me, “Mama, are you leaving?” I nodded in affirmative saying we would meet again. My both sons were seeing me off on that dark and chilly night. I was crushing the love of mother under my own feet. On one hand was the love of children and their separation and on other was the love for Islam which was overcoming the former. I was moaning, clinging to my children.... crushing my love for them. My injuries were fresh. I was un-able to walk on foot. However, I somehow managed to do so. Both the children were waving their hands to me with tears in their eyes at the gate. I could never forget those moments. Whenever I recall this scene, I remember the Muslims who had abandoned their homes and families for Islam.

Question: Where did you go then and where did you embrace Islam?

Answer: From my house I headed straight to the police station. My biggest problem there was that they did not know my language. One of them, however, could understand English. I was out of breath and was unable to speak for I was nervous. I requested him to let me take rest until I collect my-self. Then after a while I collected myself and told him that I had left my house and wanted to embrace Islam. I was anxious to narrate all these facts. However, he consoled me and said that he too was a Muslim and would help me as much as possible. He took me to his family and provided me shelter in his home. In the morning, my husband reached the police station to seek help saying his wife had been kid-napped. But he was told that his wife had not been kidnapped rather she herself had come there. As she wanted to embrace Islam, he did not have any relation with her (being a non-Muslim) so she could not go with him. He insisted and hurled threats. But I myself refused to go with him. I said he could take all my jewellery, bank balance and property, but I would not go with him. At first he did not give up, but seeing my consistent refusal he got a written statement to obtain all my belongings.

The person who had given me shelter said that now your family would not harm you and you might embrace Islam. I thanked him and went to a hospital for my whole body was wounded. I remained admitted to the hospital for some days. Once a doctor asked me: “Where have you come from? No one from your family had ever visited you at hospital.” I remained quiet and did not reply. For I had left my house in search of only one thing...... Now I neither had any home nor any family..... Now my only relation was Islam which had extended me affection on the very first step.

The Muslim policeman had called me his sister and kept me at his home like a sister. He had provided me shelter on that chilly night when I had lost all my relations. I could never forget his favour. When I was hospitalized, I was anxious about my next step. Where to go in search of peace and protection? After being discharged from the hospital I straightaway went to the Islamic centre. There was no one at that time except an elderly person who perhaps lived there. I went to him and narrated my account. He hesitated for some moments and then said: “Daugh-ter! This sari is not the dress of Muslims. Go, wear headscarf and clad yourself like Muslims.” I had some money with me when left the police station. I purchased a suit with this money and returned to the centre. He told me how to per-form ablution. As I performed the ablution he took me to a room. Entering the room, I found a big picture hanging on a wall. Seeing the picture I halted as it contained the room that I used to dream in my dreams. I immediately cried out: “That’s it which I have been seeing in my dreams.....which have been disturbing my sleep.” He smiled and said it is the house of Allah. Muslims from across the world come to this house for Hajj and Umra. It is called Baitullah. I was surprised to learn it. I asked, “Does Allah live in a house?” He was answering my questions with a smile and affection. Perhaps he knew a lot about Islam. I was facing no difficulty in talking to him. He was explaining each and every thing in my own language. I was feeling a strange happiness which I could not understand at that time. He made me recite the Kalima and then told about Muslims and Islam. Now I was neither anxious nor feeling any burden on my mind. I was feeling myself very light. I felt like I had swum from polluted to clean waters. The owner of this centre where I had embraced Islam adopted me as his daughter and took me to his home. Later, he arranged my marriage in a Muslim family. My first desire was to see the “house of Allah.” And then I performed Umra.

Question: Did you go to India after embracing Islam?

Answer: No, I neither went to India after that nor I want to go there. My family has links in political as well as religious organizations there. They have announced head money for me. I am a Muslim, a Muslim daughter.... and I am proud to be a Muslim..... I want to lead my life in the light of Islam.