#i mean i always wish there were resources like this but i feel like im starting too late (middle of kiwami)

[avocado-writing]

hi!! ive.. gone and read so much of ur work in one sitting. its all so much to take in, IN A GOOD WAY, and i absolutely adore every single word

would u be so kind.. to bless my angst durge needs..

Durge Resist tav, was strong for all until the brain was finally defeated but now, with what she believed her only purpose/chance at redemption (brain), they can't help but feel utterly empty and,, unredeemed. They mourn all those they have robbed from this world, nameless, and countless numbers of people they robbed of the life that they were now being given the chance at living. Surely they don't deserve it(Is what they think..)

They are pathetically in love, and if they deserve anything, its to tell their special one just how much they are adored before casting themselves out of society (or taking their own life, if ur comfortable writing such things-)

Rolan, Dammon, Zevlor, maybe even Rugan if u write for that loser LMAO. just.. whoever u write for, its the tieflings i adore most ahegege

if this didnt make sense IM SORRY i havent slept in so long and sleep is not choosing me. i just crave angst, perhaps with a happy ending if u would indulge me so..!! thank u if u read this, so much!!

hi, I don't write fics about suicide, but here's the tiefling bachelors with a durge who's planning to disappear after the absolute is gone and giving them one final confession:

Dammon

senses something is wrong when you take him aside for a heart-to-heart.

it isn't that you avoid these sorts of moments per se, he just knows you only affirm your affections when something big is going to happen (you did it before you went off to fight the elder brain)

he holds your hand tightly, gets you to look him in the eye.

"I love you, no matter what, and I never want to be without you. tell me you'll be there when I wake up tomorrow. in our bed. swear it to me."

you can see the utter adoration he looks at you with, and you think: maybe you aren't so bad if a man like this can truly love you.

the next morning Dammon wakes up. you're not in bed next to him. he panics, getting to his feet - only to find you in the kitchen making breakfast.

he's never been so relieved. walks up behind you and wraps you in his arms. he loves you so dearly, and will keep on loving you until you believe yourself worthy of it.

Rolan

Rolan doesn't quite understand why you're having this great outburst, but chalks it down to emotions running high after the final battle.

says goodnight, kisses you, and heads off to his tower - he has a lot of admin to do after all.

the next morning he comes to meet you at the elfsong, only to be met with the realisation that you aren't there. he curses himself for not understanding why you were so melancholic last night.

he tracks you down. uses all of his resources to scry on you, grease palms with the money the tower has. he's up all night for weeks. Cal and Lia worry about him but he is determined.

and find you he does. manages to locate where you're hiding out, a little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. you burst into tears when you see him, and he just pulls you into his arms.

"come home with me."

you do, moving into his tower. and you never leave him again.

Zevlor

immediately knows something is wrong. takes you to a quiet place where the two of you can be alone and talk things out.

discusses how he feels like being a failure for breaking his oath -- but you always saw past that. saw the goodness in his soul. he wishes you would treat yourself with that kindness.

you begin to cry, softly at first, and then with sobs which wrack your whole body. he holds you ever so tightly.

"I love you. you are not who you were. you have strived to be better every day, fought against your own family, and always chosen a righteous path. you deserve to be happy. I'd want to make you happy, if you'd let me."

eventually your tears run dry and you look up into his face. his eyes are so sincere. he means every word.

when you kiss him, it's a promise: that you're with him for good. that whatever comes next, it will be faced together.

[pillarsalt]

its weird being in feminist spaces online bc on the one hand, we all understand that women have womens shelters because they actually worked towards gathering resources and opening these physical spaces. like they did actual work and didnt just wax poetic about the necessity. but then you have discourse about womens clothes and its like. you guys know there ARE brands out there creating functional clothing for the female form, right? and they end up shutting down due to lack of support? because we arent putting any action behind our words? and are just wishing good womens clothing into existence? like there are no mens shleters bc men didnt make shelters. there are no good female clothing brands because we 1) dont make them and if we do, 2) they dont get enough patronage to stay afloat. so yea guys, keep making tumblr posts about the lack of functional female clothing instead of seeking out and supporting those businesses. ill keep wearing my dads hand-me-downs because im economically and ecologically based.

Ooh anon we're playing with fire here... Alright everybody, feelings caps off and critical thinking caps on. This is in reference to a post I made a few nights ago about how I don't quite believe how many women claim they are incapable of wearing men's section clothes, a post which was itself in reference to another post that made the rounds on tumblr earlier this year. I wrote it after having had six beers and I'll be the first to admit, it was pretty inflammatory and worded in a way that lead a few people to reply defensively and angrily, so I turned off RBs and deleted it when I woke up the next day as damage control. The general gist of my post was that there are shitloads of options in the men's section that are far comfier with better quality materials than women's section clothes, that oversized clothes are easily adjusted for functionality ie. rolling up cuffs and wearing a belt, and that I think a lot of the women claiming they couldn't possibly wear men's section clothing are maybe just unwilling to "look bad," but again I wrote it in a way that obviously would not inspire good faith interaction with those whose choices I criticized. I'd like to take the opportunity to try again with this ask.

First of all, I also had a couple people say that they've had to wear the men's uniform at their job and it was ill-fitting and sucked. Of course I'm not arguing that women should not be accounted for in creating work equipment and PPE omfg, that's not what I'm talking about at all! That's a matter of safety and equality in employment, completely not what I'm saying. And I'm also not saying that women SHOULDN'T have clothes that are comfortable, functional, and properly fitting that are made with them in mind. We should be demanding this! What I am saying is that... we don't have that right now. Anon points out that there are businesses that have tried to do this and couldn't find enough patronage to stay afloat. Of course I want these clothing manufacturers to succeed, it would be the best case scenario, but in the mean time, we have two options: uncomfortable, flimsy, revealing, shit-ass-material that won't keep you warm women's clothes; and men's clothes that are possibly ill-fitting.

From the replies I did get, sounds like the biggest problem is with the hips to waist ratio, in men's pants the waist is too big when the hips fit. Yes, I get it! But I was also surprised to learn how many women are completely opposed to wearing belts?? I always thought belts were a wardrobe staple for most everyone, my Mom always wears one, I've been wearing one when necessary since middle school age. But happily for the non-belt-wearers, I've discovered that many men's pants actually have drawstrings, sometimes they're inside behind the buttons and zipper, so you can make them as tight or loose as you like. I have four pairs of pants like this, I wear them to work where I walk around and bring heavy things up and down stairs all day, they are sooo comfyyy.

The other thing is all my pants are from the men's now, and I have to tell you: sizing discrepancy is popularly framed solely as a women's clothing issue, but it's not really. Last week I bought two pairs of men's jeans from the thrift store, both size 34, without trying them on. One pair fits quite tightly around my thighs to the point that I will probably only wear them to events and not all day at work, while the other is the perfect size and so comfy I could sleep in them (don't worry, I won't.) It's trial and error all around when it comes to finding clothes that fit properly. There's not One Shape of men's pants. The changing room is your friend! Hang out in thrift stores long enough and you will absolutely find items that fit you wonderfully and feel comfortable.

So then we come to my main point: There are a lot of women who claim that men's clothes are just too big for them to wear and therefore they must resort to women's section clothes which supposedly fit them so much better... *FROM MY POINT OF VIEW* it seems a sort of convenient excuse to look the way a patriarchal society wants you to, in the same way that "sensory issues around body hair" is now a common stated reason to continue shaving and participating in sexist beauty culture without having to examine why you feel compelled to do so. I think when some women say they're unable to wear men's clothes, it's because they can't wear men's clothes and look as conventionally "good" as they do in women's clothes. And it's true, men's clothes are gonna be a bit looser and a bit more formless, but men aren't expected to be shrink-wrapped into their outfit like women are anyway. I understand the pressure to "look good," often women are treated poorly when they don't, but it's in your best interest and in the best interest of other women to resist that sexist pressure, or at least question it honestly.

Do I think you're a bad person for choosing to wear exclusively women's section clothes, absolutely not. I don't think women who shave or wear makeup or heels are bad people either. But I do think it's worth examining why you really feel like you couldn't branch out from the women's section.

Men's pants have a baggier crotch and ass area, but women's pants are often so tightly compact in the crotch that they can cause gynaecological problems. Men's shirt sleeves are quite roomy and may need rolling up, but many women's t-shirts have tiny sleeves that pinch your arms and draw your attention to the fact that your arm fat is being compressed. Men's pants can be quite long for a short woman, but cuffing them is simple: like anon said you can easily hem them, and if you don't sew like me, you can literally just cut them shorter and roll up the cuffs twice and KABOOM they become as short as you like. I want to reiterate that I do think women deserve to have clothes that are made with their comfort in mind, and I hope we do someday soon. But with the options we do have, there is a clear winner in terms of functionality, dignity, and quality. Men's clothes are made to be worn, women's clothes are made to adorn, decorate, be looked at.

Last point, when I hear someone say they're just too short or fat for men's section clothes... I can't believe them because I have seen A LOT of short and fat women wearing men's section clothes and doing just fine. You all have never met a short and/or fat butch lesbian? Ever? They look damn good in men's section clothing. I have a coworker who is 4'11" and shops 50/50 mens and womens clothes including pants. Like... I'm seeing short women wear mens clothes with slight alterations and zero problems. I really believe you can do it too. I believe!!!

In the end, I'm just a random tumblr blogger typing on my random tumblr blog, and you the reader have no obligation to take anything I say with more than a grain of salt. Try not to take this post personally, I'm not out to attack you. If your reasoning is simply "I don't want to," I can respect that and we don't have to agree. I think we can all agree the clothing situation for women generally sucks. If anyone including this Anon has recommendations for companies who make clothing that is legitimately created for women with women's bodies in mind, please let me know and I'll boost! Perhaps we can make a difference with our wallets.

[callitfragile]

♥️ ° . little music ramble . °

as you can clearly tell, when i like something i go a little too deep into it. (it’s never too much. im whimsical and fun and having a great time.)

idk if tumblr enjoys random people rambling about what music artists they like but uhhhm I don’t care 😇 you’re getting it anyways

my favorite music artist right now is ha vay. and as a way to get my feelings out there (and a secret little way for me to try and get others to listen to her music), I’m coming here to talk about what I enjoy about ha vay.

ha vay’s music has this wild energy to it. you feel free when you listen to it. her album, baby i’m the wolf, is my talking point in this post though. from what I understand this album is about being true to your wild self, being free, being feminine, and not letting anyone hold you back. baby i’m the wolf has major themes of girlhood in it.

baby i’m the wolf, which was released in june of 2024, has 10 total songs in it. (more information on genius!! i tried linking it but i think this app hates me) each of these incredibly made songs has a music video to go along with it. and once all of those parts were finished, they were put into a full video! if you go onto youtube you can watch the 45 minute movie that explores each music video and shows a full cohesive story. I love the similarities and the differences between each of the songs. you can tell they belong with each other but it doesn’t feel repetitive.

it’s super impressive that ha vay utilized her resources to make her videos. they look amazing and they are very fun to watch. i usually sit there and watch them every time i get bored while studying. not only is the writing amazing, and her voice, but each aspect of the videos is great. the scenery, the coloring, and all the outfits!! (god i can never get enough of ha vay’s outfit in ophelia the colors were gorgeous… check here to see more outfits made by the same creator of the ophelia outfit)

out of ALL of her songs ophelia and fragile are my favorites.

the ophelia music video switches between black and white and then to color. it even switches,, the quality? you’ll have to see for yourself 💞. it’s a very whimsical video (not just using that word as joke this time. it’s a super fairytale-like video. as are the rest of the others. but this one has a GIANT MOON. a. giant. moon.) ophelia is a perfect opening song for the album.

fragile is a very powerful song. and similarly to the ophelia video, it switches between black and white and then to color!! in this one she disappears and reappears throughout the song, which is so fun. i love the warmth of this video and the outfits are stunning as always. (as of now, my pfp is one of the outfits from the video) within this song my favorite like has to be

“ a girl is a gun! a woman is the sun and the air we breathe.”

I mean, come on. how could you not love that. I also like how she lip syncs it in the video. super satisfying

I do wish more artists leaned into their wild side like ha vay does. it seems like so much fun. the untamed nature in these videos pulls everything together.

out of the thousands of times I’ve heard her songs, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of them. I plan on rewatching the movie a few more times, to master my understanding of it (😇).

I can’t wait to see what she does in the future and I’m glad I’m a fan. I hope even more people enjoy her music and it’s been awesome seeing her Spotify listeners grow over the past few months. even though I’ve only been a fan for less than a year, I’ll never let this part of me go.

NOW GO LISTEN!!!

(btw if the links are broken… ignore that… and if none of this makes sense… also ignore that 💞)

[xoxonxo]

i love you , im sorry.

summary: a romione fic based on hermione’s

point of view during her sixth year at hogwarts

(chapter 1/?)

A/N: i mixed the events of the books and the movies to make it flow better, i’m also posting it on my ao3. hope you like it! italics mean memories.

Hermione knew she was smart— everyone knew it too.

She was the brightest witch of her age, a fact that she carried with pride since her first year at Hogwarts. She was also a prefect, and hoped that in her 7th year she would be Head Girl. Hermione thought she wasn’t bad looking either. She learned the hard way that her hair had to be properly kept, and not just brushed until it had grown to the volume of a lion’s mane— which was something she wasn’t aware of until she was 12.

She was fit— although she had to give most of the credit to Harry due to their near-death experiences they went through on a yearly basis.

Hermione was remarkably resourceful, and was great help to anyone who asked for it. By her third year, she had nearly read the entire library at Hogwarts and begged the librarian to bring her in a new collection.

The best quality Hermione had was that from a young age, she knew what she wanted in life. The day she had gotten her letter from Hogwarts she practically ransacked every bookshop in Diagon Alley for any book that explained the phenomenon that was magic. In her fourth year, she created S.P.E.W after witnessing Dobby and Winky undergo horrific treatment from wizards and witches like herself. Hermione even managed to get Outstanding in all OWLs but one, a feat very few had ever accomplished.

She had reached every step in achieving all her aspirations, yet there was one thing that remained unclear, and that was the feelings she had developed for Ron.

She figured there was always a spark there. She thought it had started in her second year when she saw Ron’s face light up after she returned from being petrified, or when she secretly wished to had been dancing with Ron at the Yule Ball, rather than with Viktor Krum, or even when the only memory that casted her Patronus was centered around him. After spending the entirety of the summer at the Burrow, she felt her concealed and hidden emotions spiral out of control. There were times Hermione thought she felt her heart explode after sharing small moments with Ron. Those of which were put on a hold once Harry arrived.

She began to read into exchanged glances and soft smiles like never before. Hermione’s logic was always telling her that she was being ridiculous, but her heart squealed in defiance when he merely called her name. She felt like she had lost grip of the girl who once strategically planned each day, to a ridiculous school girl, who was fawning over her latest crush.

There she was, sitting in the prefects compartment next to Ron with a silly smile plastered on her face. She had a book propped up on her lap, flipped open to the first page, yet every time she finished reading a sentence her mind trailed off to only re-read it again.

“Blimey, ‘Mione. I haven’t seen you this happy since we got our OWLs back. What are you reading about?”

Hermione slightly froze, before closing the book to the front cover, which read: Visions Beyond; Explaining the Mysteries of Divination. Ron shrugged, glancing up at Hermione who was blinking rapidly, as if finding something to say.

“I thought you hated divination,” Hermione toyed with the thin, gold chain delicately drooped on her collarbones.

“I do,” she hummed out, uncrossing her legs to now face him.

“So why are you reading it? You’re not taking a N.E.W.T for it, are you?”

She quickly shook her head, her bottom lip curling up, displeased at the thought of having to take another year in Divination,

“I think I’d rather die.”

He let out a small laugh before returning to his thoughts. Hermione’s eyes met the window of the compartment, staring at the scenery that was quickly passing by and the only thought that crossed her mind was how she was going to get out of this situation.

Once a few more hours had passed, the train arrived at Hogwarts. Ron, who hadn’t seen Harry since their arrival to Kings Cross Station had his arms crossed peering his eyes through the heads making their way off the train.

“Hermione, he’s got to be coming soon. Can’t you wait a couple more minutes?”

Her eyes searched the line of students, then breathed out a long sigh.

“Come on, Ron. By the time we get off, all the carriages will be gone. He’s probably already at the castle.”

As the two walked off the train, she took one last glance at the empty compartment at the back. She saw a glimpse of something flashing through the air and chose to ignore it. Hermione and Ron made their way through the leafy forest ground, dirt smudging against her sneakers. The area had began to clear out, a couple of second years and third years lingering around trying to figure out how the carriage managed to pull itself. They briefly split up; Hermione gave Professor Filch her and Ron’s luggages, patiently waiting for it to be approved, while Ron managed to get them a vacant carriage.

Ron, who was still worried about Harry kept looking around. She understood why he was so worried. Harry had gained so much in the last year, and then managed to lose it all. She recalled the first weeks when Sirius had passed away. Harry hadn’t spoke to anyone for days. He didn’t eat, he barely slept, and began to let himself slip away. Being Harry Potter’s friend was hard— not because he was famous, or because he was the ‘Boy Who Lived’, but because whenever he found peace, it would be destroyed right in front of him. Hermione cleared her throat, slightly nudging Ron’s leg with the front of her shoe.

“Ron?”

He tilted his head, impatiently tapping his fingers against the steel of the bench he sat on.

“He’s going to be alright.”

A soft smile tugged on his lips before looking straight into Hermione’s eyes, almost grateful for her words.

Classes at Hogwarts had never been this difficult for Hermione. It had only been a week since class had begun, and for the first time, Hermione was dreading having to read another chapter on protective charms.

She stood in the newly arranged classroom. It had completely changed since Snape had taught Potions. Streaks of sunlight now filtered throughout. The desks were now closely grouped together, allowing for more than two people to a table. She noticed photographs neatly placed onto his desk. Moving frames displayed a Quidditch player, a group of students with a much younger looking Professor Slughorn, and one last photograph with a woman who had long, red hair, smiling ear to ear. Slughorn flicked an hourglass that sat next to the smallest picture frame. The sand that was trapped, began to move, almost instantly falling though the small hole, laying its entirety on the bottom. Slughorn cleared his throat, scanning the classroom, his smile slightly faltering before limping his way over to a table which had three large cauldrons, and one tiny clear flask containing a tinted liquid. As the Professor began to speak, Hermione heard a rustling coming from the back of the class. Annoyed, she whipped her head back, only to face Harry, who was grabbing Ron by the arm. Her furrowed brows relaxed into place, letting out an airy chuckle.

The lesson eventually resumed— Slughorn introduced himself, while Harry and Ron fought over the textbook they would use for the remainder of class. Hermione had answered each question he asked the class, her hand shooting up before he could even finish each sentence.

“Amortentia. It’s the strongest love potion in the world. For instance, I smell,” she paused, taking a large inhale of the bubbling potion in front of her, “Freshly mown grass, new parchment, and…” Her voice trailed off with a quiver before she barley finished her sentence with a whisper, “Spearmint Toothpaste.”

Her eyes quickly glanced down at her feet, before meeting Ron’s, his mouth agape. The classroom buzzed with excitement, their attention drawn to the vial being showcased by the gray haired man. Hermione, however, couldn’t tear her eyes off the cauldron that contained the bubbly, pink mixture. What one smells in Amortentia displays what, or who they love— Hermione knew that. She studied all the Potions that were on the marble table the summer prior. Hermione also knew it was likely the potion would smell of a familiar scent. But, she didn’t think it would be an embodiment her memories with Ron. For the first time, Hermione allowed herself to daydream during class.

Freshly mown grass.

Hermione recalled the first week she stayed at the Burrow. Molly, who had always adored Hermione since she was a little girl was thrilled to have her stay over the summer. The two had bonded almost instantly which caused Fleur, Bill’s fiancée to have an outrage (something she had commonly done while at the Burrow).

Molly taught Hermione how to knit, she shared recipes that were passed down since the beginning of the Weasley family tree, and had even given Hermione old books that were collecting dust in her cabinet. Hermione had offered to help Ron around the house when Molly had to leave with Arthur for sudden ‘errands’ with the Order. Molly graciously accepted her offer and apparated soon after, leaving Hermione and Ron alone, with the blaring sun twinkling over them. The grass around the burrow was long over grown, weeds beginning to sprout from bushes, and thorny vines grew around flowers that had bloomed last spring.

“We could always just use magic, Hermione.”

The sun was beaming over them, causing Ron to cover his eyes with the palm of his hand and squint back at Hermione. Hermione fiercely shook her head as she tied her hair up messily, huffing a strand off her forehead to see better.

“Not everything has to be done with magic, Ronald! Besides, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Ministry over mowing the lawn.”

Ron and Hermione continued to banter while she searched for a lawnmower in a shed that had a wooden plank nailed to the wall, labeled Muggle Findings. Once found, Ron let out a grumble, causing Hermione to shoot him one last glare (which inevitably shut Ronald up). She let Ron pull the handle, causing the motor to sputter. After a few more attempts from the two, the lawn-mower crackled and began to work. To much of Hermione’s surprise, Ron enjoyed playing around with the machine. He ran around the field, passing over weeded areas several times before moving on to the next. To Ron’s dismay, the once clear sky turned dark, clouds looming over the two.

“Ron!”

Hermione shouted, her arms waving around like a lunatic, “Turn it off!”

Drops of rain fell on her hair, trickling down to her forehead. The rain quickened, and before Ron could react the engine let out a loud grumble and spit at Ron. A thin line of smoke floated into the air straight from the engine, causing a shriek out of Ron.

“Bloody Hell, Hermione! Were you trying to kill me?”

Ron kicked the tire, knocking the lawnmower onto its side.

“Oh, honestly, Ronald! It runs on petrol, not on enchantments. You seriously couldn’t believe that it could get wet, did you?”

A brief moment of silence grew between the two before a sudden laugh erupted from Hermione, soon followed by nervous laughter from Ron. The sprinkling turned into a pour, yet neither Ron or Hermione had moved an inch.

The air smelt of humidity mixed with smoke, and a slight hint of freshly mown grass.

Parchment.

Hermione had grown a liking to the books that Molly had gifted her over the summer. Most of the books were stories made for children, and she was sure that Molly had read it to her own. She had came across one book that was particularly beaten up. The cover was a dark red, and the pages were thick pieces of parchment barley stitched into the spine. Hermione made her way to the sitting room and gently sat on the sofa, brushing the velvety plush with the tip of her fingers. She physically recoiled when her nails scratched the silky surface, retracting her hand quickly.

On her left sat an end table where she had previously set down a mug filled with warm tea. She pressed the mug to her tightened lips, barley sipping the tea. Once the steaming beverage hit her tongue, she hissed at its temperature facing the book that was against her thigh. The candlelight was flickering in the once dimly lit room, casually casting shadows against the dark walls. The once distant figure had increased in its stature as it drew nearer. Hermione jumped and tossed her book across the floor, yelping once she whirled around.

“What are you doing up so late?”

Ron rubbed his eyes, a slight yawn evading his throat before he could finish his sentence. Hermione clutched her chest, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You scared me out of my wits!”

Ron made his way around the sofa, a lopsided grin forming on his face. His eyes crinkled at her, lines forming at his temples.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she began, pushing her knees up to her chest as Ron settled down, the couch sinking below his weight.

“I had too much on my mind.”

Ron’s neck dangled over the backrest, returning her words with a hum.

“You’ll be safe here, Mione.”

Hermione was thankful the lighting had been so faint because she was certain Ron would’ve seen her cheeks flush pink. A comfortable silence grew between the two. Hermione’s heart rate eventually settled— allowing her to return to her ‘light’ reading. She flipped the dusty, yellowed page, her finger sliding against it, slicing a thin line of her skin open. She hissed, squeezing her finger with her thumb.

“Papercut?”

Ron asked, a slight concern wavering in his throat. Hermione hummed as she swiped the twin line of blood trickling at the seam.

“It’s nothing crazy. It’s small.”

He reached for her finger, examining it carefully. Hermione nearly laughed at his worried expression.

“I’ll be fine, Ronald. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Hermione’s waited until her papercut settled before returning to the book that was flipped over on her knee. Ron seemed unlikely to leave her side—though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the paper-cut or her anxiety prior to him frightening her. He slid the book down her leg gently, his thumb keeping her place in the story.

“My mum would read me these as a kid. I didn’t know she still had the book.”

His face was plastered with nostalgia. His upper lip curled up and his blinks softened.

“Have you read ‘The Tale of the Enchanted Broomstick? It’s one of my favorites.”

Hermione’s shoulder blades rested against the cushions, supporting her posture, her eyes beginning to fight against her drowsiness.

“Not yet, I haven’t gotten to it.”

Ron skimmed through the pages, mumbling the page number 285 continuously. Once he found the page, he cleared his throat, quietly mumbling the words to Hermione. She felt sleep catch up to her, her breathing relaxed as Ron found a rhythm with his voice. Hermione laid her head against his shoulder, erupting a deep inhale from Ron. All the stress that Hermione had felt since the fateful day at the Ministry of Magic was extracted from her veins momentarily.

She dozed off before he could finish the introduction of the tale, sleep took Ron soon after.

Before Hermione could fully recall her final memory, the students’ attention shifted to the cauldrons placed on each table. Shaking herself out of her daydream, she glanced at the ingredients laid out before her. The rest of the session was a frustrating blur. Despite meticulously following every instruction, Hermione watched in disbelief as Harry, who seemed to ignore each direction, achieve perfect results. Her frustration grew with each passing minute.

By the end of class, Hermione’s hair had frizzed twice its normal size. To add insult to the injury, Harry earned the vial of Liquid Luck, something that sent her annoyance through the roof. She gathered her books, her movements sharp and precise. She huffed at Harry, who had a cheeky grin on his face, showing off the miniature vial to anyone who asked.

“Unbelievable, isn’t it?” Stepping out the classroom, Hermione paused in the corridor, waiting for Harry and Ron to join her. To her surprise, Ron emerged, leaving Harry alone.

“You alright, Hermione? You seem shaken up.”

It took everything in Hermione to not snarl, or make a nasty comment. Hermione refrained from making a remark towards Harry, despite the obvious tension in her voice.

“I’m fine.”

He knew her better than that, and she knew it too.

“You don’t always have to be perfect, Hermione. You’re bloody brilliant as is.”

Hermione forced a tight smile, clenching her jaw at his words. She was aware that her perfectionism was blatant to Ron, especially since they had spent 10 months of the past 6 years together. He studied her for a moment, his eyes softening at her features. He noticed her furrowed brows, arching in ways that proved her anger. He watched as her mouth pursed as their silence grew louder. Her arms crossed themselves, tapping her foot as her impatience increased heavily.

“Let’s not wait for Harry. He said he was caught up on something. We should just meet him at the common room.” Ron suggested, breaking the growing silence between them.

Hermione reluctantly agreed, catching up with Ron, who had already taken off. As they walked through the corridors and climbed the never-ending staircases, Hermione’s mind wandered back to Potions. To say she was curious on what Ron smelled from the Amortentia would be an understatement. Her mind whirled with possibilities. Ron hadn’t truly liked anyone— at least that she was aware of, and the closest thing to a date Ron had was taking Padma Patil to the Yule Ball (that of he had dreaded the entire time). Hermione was forcibly snapped out of her thoughts when the two arrived into the common room by Ron waving his hand in her face.

“Hermione, are you even listening?”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically rolling his eyes.

No.

“Yes, sorry. Uh—What were you saying?”

Hermione grimaced when Ron shot her a frustrated look, before he shooed the idea off with his hand.

“Forget about it.”

She felt a twinge of guilt at Ron’s words. It wasn’t her fault that she kept on daydreaming, she couldn’t help it!

“Did you smell anything from the cauldron?”

Hermione’s words shot out quickly, catching even herself by surprise. The question had been pounding in her head since she had left Potions, and if it weren’t for Ron’s hum of acknowledgement, she would’ve thought she hadn’t said it out loud. For someone who had always been so opinionated, Ron’s expression was unreadable.

“It was far away.”

That was a lie.

From the second Hermione stepped into Slughorn’s class, she smelt the bubbling mixture. It was strong and it enticed her. It begged her to step closer to it. Ron’s sense of smell was remarkable, and that was a fact no one could deny. He could identify the scent of a home-cooked meal from miles away. Ron’s eyes searched for conformity in her own.

“My mother’s cooking.”

Hermione blinked slowly, patiently waiting for him to say more. The clock in the common room ticked, each click sending a rush of anticipation through her veins.

“Freshly mown grass.”

Ron’s words slowly fell from his lips, the crackle from the fireplace breaking the ever growing tension fueling between them. Hermione swore she felt her heart skip a beat. With a loud cough, she cleared her throat, pressing further.

“And what else?”

Her voice trembled as she watched Ron form ideas in his head. He hesitated before his eyes flicked towards hers.

“Parchment.”

Hermione stood in disbelief, her eyebrows raised to the middle of her forehead. She sternly shot her jaw at him.

“Parchment?”

Ron nodded, his pale cheeks beginning to redden.

“Why does it matter to you?”

Hermione shrugged, attempting to control her nonchalance. Otherwise, Hermione thought that she would have no choice than to jump into his arms and confess all her feelings she sought to suppress until the end of eternity.

“It doesn’t,” she began, although her brain pounded and begged her to tell him the truth.

“Who do you think of then?”

Hermione took in a deep breath, her nerves prickled at her skin while her eyes watered. Ron scratched the back of his neck, a long sigh escaping his lips before he could respond.

“When I think of parchment I think of you, ‘Mione.”

Her breath hitched, a rush of relief and overwhelming emotions washed over her.

“I guess since we have been friends for so long, I think of you when I think of love.”

Oh.

Friends.

Hermione knew that is all it meant— of course it did. His mother’s cooking had no correlation to Hermione, and freshly mown grass could’ve just meant the Burrow, and parchment just meant they were friends. Hermione fought her frown and forced a tight smile onto her face.

“Right, me too.”

Ron flopped onto the sofa, patting the empty spot beside him. Her response echoed in her head as she walked over to him— it couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

taglist:

@polosweaters @nena-96 @catacombspooks @bree-ii

[teddy-feathers]

i think. i might actually come out to my fam this year.

not the best time to transition, i know, what with trump in office and our ability to actually transition probably in danger because of it.

and like. i do have concerns about my ability to transition at work. its not that i care much its that. my job requires a security clearance - and they might consider me a problem if im trans. idk. havent looked into it.

the thing is. im tired. right now literally but also very much figuratively.

i dont. go after things i want. not things that matter you know?

oh new game came out I want to play? Ill make it happen obviously.

need to make time to hop on call with friend? ill try and work it in.

but i am. 33, nearly 34.

i did not figure out what i wanted to go to college for - because i was told what i should do, and every attempt to do things i wanted to do instead was corrected.

i kinda fell up into my jobs by having many mental breakdowns, not going to work until i lost my job, panic, immediately look for something I was probably capable of doing, and accepting any terms and conditions they gave me to get me the job.

i have had this job for a while - i mean technically i got promoted twice, but same location for five years isnt bad.

but like. i dont even decorate my room. like its not permanent. its transitory and doesnt really belong to me so whats the point.

thats kinda how it feels my whole life had been. not belonging to me, transitory, and pointless to even try because my efforts have no real value or meaning.

i dont really know what i want. but im working on just. going after things i think will make me happy.

and i like being called sir. would like my tits gone. maybe kinda sorta want some other things to go along with all that too.

Theodore Marshall Hyde isn't a bad name, I like being called teddy - or Theodore Roosevelt the 26th president of the united states - and my middle name already starts with M so why not go after my grandfather's middle name and be Marshall? Also I can be T M Hyde - like technical machine "hide" which is fun.

i could probably grow a long wizard beard - though beards look like a lotta upkeep and if my dads anything to go by i wont be reaching zz top lengths any time soon.

like. i came on here in 2015, and i learned a lot i didnt know about trans people, met some, and was kinda like "wish that were me". 2018 i decided fuck it. it is me. i want it.

and even if. i doubt and think i dont want it enough. or im not really. or its just grass is always greener. or or or. - hell the worst that can happen is a few changes that i cant reverse and a some i can.

but its. been. 6-7 years of me just. sitting on it and seeing if itd go away.

it hasnt.

and like. while sometimes i still try to dig around in my head to "prove" its real and not just. idk. some left over childish thing. i don't. actually. have to prove anything to anyone?

thats why. i might actually come out to my fam and then get the ball rolling.

my aunt kinda. proved. that it really doesnt fucking matter what i do, know, say, believe - whatever - that ill probably never get her approval or support or anything other than her trying to prove she knows not only everything else better than i do, but me better than i know myself.

and im tired of it.

like. my parents in comparison are easy.

my dad might call me a dumbass or say he doesnt agree with it. but like. if im willing to waste time energy money resources blood sweat and tears on it. then. on my head so be it. like. i really think he'll go "no, youre not" but like if i want to be stupid about it, he's not gonna like. try and stop me. if i dont take his advice, as long as he a) doesnt get blamed for it all going wrong when you should have done what he said and b) gets to say i told you so when it blows up in your face then. hes pretty much going to just scoff occasionally and leave it alone. (i think)

momll never see me as anything other than her daughter. she will get my pronouns wrong. she will go around telling everyone and their brother that im trans. she will still love me and try and support me no matter what though.

my aunt will be... a problem. i just. cant deal with her being a problem any more.

i dont want to want to avoid going home every day because i dont want to run into her. i dont wamt to play "yes man" in every conversation just tonget the conversation over faster or to keep her happy. i dont want to be... upset any more. or hurt.

i am. so tired.

i dont want 20 questions i dont have the answers to, or the endless whys. or the patronizing laugh because she knows better than you. or that shell go and do her own research and find that actually i cant be trans not only because of personal anecdotes but also science says so.

i. do not care. what anyone says.

i want this.

it will hurt no one but me.

it will not hurt me or inconvenience me more than many other things i could be doing instead or in any way that i am not willing to live with.

i will probably end up happier because of it.

it will be a trial but i will get through it.

i dont want the latest facts and figures. i will do my own research.

i need to sleep. i just.

like if i cant win with my aunt then the win condition is basically telling her i do not care what you think or know, it is in fact none of your business and also when i say indo not want to talk aboht aomething that is not a green light for you to try to bully me into talking anyways.

like. im going to try to work things out to where I know what i kinda want to sorta maybe do and work towards this year.

this is just one of the things.

[kuhreem]

i took this photo at a pro palestine demonstration a few weeks ago and have been thinking about it since

i took this photo at a pro palestine demonstration a few weeks ago i have been thinking about it since. i dont really understand why the white christian protestor joining in prayer with all of the muslim protestors effected me so much, but it did. its so easy to fall into a hole of grief and depression, and a lot of times it feels like its almost easier to just keep it to yourself and keep it pushing. im not gonna lie im fucked up after these past few weeks, all of the death and pain ive been seeing will never leave my mind. i cry at least once a day, i feel physically sick, every single day, and im constantly feeling like im not doing enough — and its tough to voice that feeling, even now i feel weird sharing about how weird the genocide in gaza has been making me feel because i have the luxury of doing so from my apartment in boston, so far removed from any of the very real danger palestinians in gaza (and the west bank) are living in right now. showing up at protests, donating, boycotting, and lending my voice, my (small) platform, and privilege to those who dont have the same resources feels like the least i can do, but it also feels like the most which is so frustrating. i wish i could force people to listen to reason but unfortunately thats not how the world works, and when your dms and timelines are being flooded with extremely hateful and dangerous rhetoric its easy to forget how many people are standing with you and standing for palestine. seeing this protestor that looked nothing like me reminded me of that, and made me feel less like all of my efforts were just screams into an echo chamber filled with people who could be my cousins. it proved to me that we have been making an impact, and that was enough to make me feel really good.

for any non/arab readers: i think its especially important when you all speak up and show up to protests and demonstrations because it proves to world leaders that this is a global issue, and that the entire world is watching. not to say that you should speak on things you arent educated about (you shouldnt), but for those of you that have been considering getting more involved but are nervous or unsure of what your impact might be, know that it is very large. 

to any white readers specifically, i want to point out and make sure you all understand just how powerful your voices are in particular. i dont mean to be that guy that always talks about white privilege but you are seen as a voice of reason in this country (the us), and around the world. your opponents arent as quick to label you as a terrorist, or whatever other racist shit they can come up with, so i urge (beg) you to take advantage of that!!  

[gaycavendish]

Ok ok ONE more question abt Time Travelers Trio. Are Cavendish and Dakota still time Travelers as well at this point, or have they like retired or smth? Just curious as to what's up with them? :^D

finally going to answer this question! i have thought long and hard about it and come up with two answers: the short one and the deranged rambling one!

the short, less satisfying answer being: i think it could go either way! i really truly could see them either scrambling their way back into time traveling or finding jobs in the 21st century. Although.. i find the latter choice not quite as entertaining. So i prefer to think on the idea of them returning to time travel!

Now, The long answer:

(TLDR for it first: I think they may continue time traveling. Eventually Cavendish & Dakota start their own, rival to the time bureau, Time Traveling Agency. Whether the trio will be part of this agency is undecided but a probable yes.)

ok, so, theyre banned from time travel, full stop... But i mean, they know the guy who INVENTED it. its a silly solution, really & truly very goofy (although i think in line with the silliness of dwampyverse overall) but .. They could ask doof to make a rule that theyre allowed to continue time traveling. Total oversight by block to trap them in the century where doof invents time travel. Of course block wouldn't just Let this happen, or anything, but cartoon shenanigans ensue and im sure you can picture something sufficiently entertaining and set to the scooby-doo-door-chase song here.

The interest for me in this theory lies also in what dakota and cavendish would do up until the point where they return to time traveling! Trying to imagine them working regular jobs for like, a 10-15 year period.. i simply cannot.! The one ive found myself having the most fun thinking about is the idea of them helping out with the creation of the time machine, as well as coaching the trio on it a bit once they start testing doof's prototypes (although, theyre not the best people to ask for time traveling help i imagine HAHA). But in any case.. i also think they would change what they do with their time traveling quite a bit. I mean, neither of them WANT to do the pistachio stuff.. It's shown you can travel through time AND space, although they never leave the planet on screen (for pistachio purposes i would think). If they were in charge of their own missions, i quite think they would be doing much more exciting things! and. hopefully dying less...! CAVENDISH...

OK I SWEAR IM GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS. Because at this point i feel they are getting old and perhaps wishing to do something less dangerous.. Ok get ready for this.. This has been my favorite thing to think about today... What if they started their OWN time travel agency! A Ha! I might find this more exciting than other people, but nonetheless, i think its fitting. I mean, Block is a terrible boss. The bureau of time travel was never very kind to cav and dakota, and given that they have the resources (Doofenschmirtz! Love That Guy!) why not, right? plus, this gives the opportunity for some Secret Agency vs Secret Agency goodness. Which I always love. I only thought of this concept recently, but It's definitely my favorite of the bunch, so probably what I'll go with! Just left to decide whether the trio are part of this agency or not (probably yes).

[kkoct-ik]

kottik i think ive already said it before but i SO so appreciate your perspective and attention to detail with dissociative stuff. trying to wade through scattered info on the internet for reliable resources feels like an impossible task sometimes lol so having the DID writing guide + your alter worksheet definitely helps a lot! 

feedback on the guide itself: i loved it!!! the only parts i didn’t personally find relatable were the parts discussing later stages of healing/recovery (since im not quite there yet) and some of the functional neurological symptoms, but everything else felt like it was describing my own journey and experiences with DID perfectly. i also really appreciated the section on amnesia and different types of dissociation, plus the lesser known symptoms, since a lot of the time i see conflicting and confusing info on that + i feel like a lot of writers who try to write DID and describe how amnesia feels miss out on that stuff and just skim webmd or something for their info. and honestly even in online And offline discussions of DID ive seen other people try to describe how it really works and feels and its… not always described well lmao . but that’s a whole other can of worms etc

i think, though it’s just a writing resource, it was also very affirming to see it all laid out like that. like Oh shit yeah i do all of that. that’s my life on the page!!! the whole time i read it i was like ‘i knew this stuff already, but i never knew how to explain it properly.’ and it’s definitely the kind of thing i wish id been able to see when i first started noticing my symptoms. many years of misinfo and confusion have messed w my perception of myself n my disorder for a long time so it feels like a breath of fresh air to see someone else pushing against that and actually doing their research to try and clear things up. not to mention how clear your descriptions are + how easy it is to comprehend your explanations, while still being concise and to the point. so great work!!! 5 star rating, will definitely be recommending it to others :3 hope to see more from you + hope that it helps others write cool stuff!

i missed this ask!!!! sorry for missing this yesterday

thank you!!!!!! mwa mwa mwa. im so glad. so happy yaaaay

yeah, i definitely relate with the struggling to articulate experiences, being muddled by things online, and feeling like other people really dont quite get it when trying to represent whats going on. it makes me happy i can help with that!!

i feel like i'm in a good place that i've read a Lot of DID & CPTSD lit and i've been stabilising in treatment (processing some stuff, working on myself, getting a better understanding of therapy practice). i think it's given me a lot of perspective on my disorder that i wouldn't really have otherwise, and that a lot of people might not have either.

(rambling...)

cuz yeah. i think trying to understand DID on the internet is a monumentously difficult task. on one hand, you have personal accounts from people with DID, and on the other, you have doctors and generic websites. both don't quite give a full or reliable picture.

if you try to understand DID by listening to individuals, you're vulnerable to being incredibly confused and misled. and most of the time it's not intentional - it's hard to communicate what your symptoms are when you think half of it is normal and the other half is conflicted and fragmented - but it can give others very strange ideas about what the condition operates like at large.

it might also seem respectful to take everything we say at face value, but that ends up meaning that our flawed / misguided perceptions of ourselves and our symptoms become solidified as fact. we are mentally ill, we are not necessarily educated, and are a patient base prone to daydreaming and suggestion. we can get things wrong, and we can emphasise the wrong things.

when people take our unreliable accounts as fact (vivid recounts of psuedomemories, venting about feeling like seperate people, or expressing any number of mistaken symptoms), our experiences can start to sound like fantasy. suddenly DID sounds like a disorder you could not fathom having or ever truly understand, rather than a disorder that is simply inherently confusing to live with.

that said, if you try to avoid that by learning about DID soley through medical accounts and websites, you will only ever hear about reported symptoms, the most extreme & notable case studies, patient observations, and generic criteria, leaving a Lot to fill in the gaps (when you try to deduce what it feels like to live with it / be in our brains), that leads to other kinds of inaccuracies.

(for my health i'm not even going to try to touch on hollywood and online influencers that sensationalise the condition for clicks and thus dominate the algorithm. but obviously they are a factor too. pop culture is a powerful thing.)

the internet is a mess! and while not everything that is misleading is untrue, it can be very easy to just, not quite get it, or misunderstand things fundamentally, in any number of ways.

so yeah, it makes me happy that between my life experience, therapy, and obnoxious amount of pages read, i can actually make what goes on somewhat digestible. i want to help contextualise medical criteria, pull out relevant snippets, and point people to some really good resources.

it's not to say i'm a spokesperson or expert. i am very much just a huge nerd who happens to suffer from a disorder and is very invested in understanding myself. but the positive feedback does reassure me that i haven't gotten anything heinously wrong.

ty again :)) yaayy

[voraciousvore]

I have a question for you! I’ve been about it allot lately. It’s on the boarding school, Bucky story verse. So basically my question is there any backstory lore on the giant government? Do they have ulterior motives for keeping the peace or stoping their citizens from eating humans? Cause clearly they have allot of citizens that like to eat them and enjoy it, so it must have taken allot of work to stop them or discourage it, cause clearly it still happens. (Which made me think they might be twisting the giant history too.)

The reason I ask cause I got to thinking after those school scenes where they are teaching the giant class about their history. I was thinking about why they bother keeping the humans in the dark. Granted it could be exactly as they say, they had enough giants that got disgusted with the slave of humans and worked to free them. But Like they hold all the cards, I mean I get it on one hand maybe they are trying to stomp out resentment and rebellion, but then again why, they hold all the power, they could have easily used it as a way to say ‘oh look at us being good and being nice to you humans, you better be grateful.”

So it made me think that maybe something happened, where maybe the humans figured something out, something that was a threat to the giants, that leveraged their freedom with conditions of course.

Any way if your feeling like sharing any lore on that 👀 it’s chill if not! Im just probably thinking way too much about it.

To be honest, I don't put a HUGE amount of thought into the background lore. It mostly just exists to generally explain the setting where the story takes place. However I'll try to answer your questions as best I can. (Sorry in advance, this will be long)

I should preface this by saying the majority of the giant population do not eat humans, nor do they necessarily have instinctive urges to eat humans. The desire to eat humans is "awakened" when they taste or swallow a human for the first time, and there is a lot of individual variation in how strong the urges may become. The exception is special bloodlines such as the Maneaters, who have an innate biological desire to prey on humans.

Thus, the giants who do want to eat humans are in the minority. Most giants want peace between the two species. The history of freeing the humans from giant control and giving them their own space to live (which wouldn't be a huge cost in terms of land or resources) was borne from the progression of modern ideals and societal development (much like real-life equivalents).

However, there is of course a darker side to this narrative. There were more cynical reasons to "free" the humans beyond moral considerations. Giants learned that humans who are "wild" or "free range" taste better than captive-bred. Additionally, human stock could be ensured better if the population was permitted to multiply on its own, and a single giant couldn't just demolish a whole town's worth of people like a bag of chips. The "freedom" bestowed upon the humans was as much a compromise between giants who wanted the best for humans and those who wanted them as food.

The giants ostensibly forced the humans to hide their "true history" from their progeny to maintain peace and not breed resentment, but the truth is more likely that they wish to keep the humans in ignorance of what is really happening, to more readily exploit them. As we know from the stories, there is an underground black market where humans are trafficked to giants as pets/ food/ objects of pleasure. Giants who did want to eat humans were still able to get their fix, for the right price.

The issue is controversial in giant society, and the tension still exists even into the modern era. The influence of bad actors in centers of power such as governments and corporations is clear in Big Corp and Bucky's who are pushing hard for increased integration of giant and human societies, as well as legal means to eat humans.

Hope this answers your question! I always enjoy fleshing out the lore and rambling about my stories/ characters (I've got some serious brainrot lol) so don't be afraid to ask more questions if you're curious!

[laconic-nightmares]

if you have resources on splitting myself (im not sure how it would work? the impetus is a trauma of sorts but it would be a created plurality so idk) then that would be great. For what its worth I do already practice a distinction between the thoughts and 'me' and have used 'you/us/we' to refer to myself for forever?

and yeah, this seems like a bad way to cope but I have few options yk? ill try real therapy for me and esp the thoughtform when im able.

yeah it's difficult to be sure of origin labels when it's complicated like this, but we settled on the origin label of parotraumagenic because, similarly, our first split was due to the trauma of intrusive thoughts but simultaneously 'on purpose', even if we didn't know any names for what we were doing at the time.

as far as the actual creation goes, i don't really know how i did it, i just sorta 'did it' and experienced very subtle switching for about 5 years until i stumbled across the tulpa community. it was there that i created our tulpa, though my intent at the time was to hijack the consciousness that was already there and turn that into a tulpa. it didn't work so well though, but caim in turn used the process of me making our tulpa to give itself a more defined personality so idk, i guess it kind of worked?

also, it's my belief that a lot more people experience at least a form of psuedo plurality than we're aware of as a society. actors and writers have talked about their characters having minds of their own for centuries, and the concept of a muse is also vaguely pluralish. so yes, that distinction you already have is at least a small step towards it. i think it's incredibly common for people with intrusive thoughts to at least do a small version of what we're doing here as a means of coping.

anyway, enough rambling;

this Tulpa Creation Guide (1) appears to be the main guide in use by the tulpa community right now. there is also this giant list of guides (2) to look through

keep in mind that everything here is pretty separated from the rest of the plural community, so there are going to be a lot of different terms and a lot of different ideas as well. i'm a firm believer in picking and choosing what works for you, so don't feel beholden to any ideas presented in those guides that don't vibe with you.

especially don't be too concerned with the idea of making a fully separate consciousness to your own, or their ideas of full possessive switches (hell, you don't even have to have switches at all if you both vibe with that) - i've found their ideas don't fully gel with median systems (3) and that kinda seems to be what you're going for, they also don't always account for differences between polyconscious (4) and monoconscious (5) systems

i also wouldn't really bother with anything related to imposition. it's a cool thing to be able to do in theory, and if you want to get into it that's fine but it's pretty much just intentionally hallucinating your headmate into the real world and it's not necessary nor does it seem very useful for your case specifically

lastly, though there isn't much in the way of intentional creation of headmates, healthy multiplicity (6) has a lot of resources for how to manage being plural in ways that benefit the whole system, and i'd recommend having a look through all of that as well

i have also found a guide for self-directed exposure response prevention (7), which might be a good thing to do along with your new headmate once you're a little more established. i'll also direct you to the tiktok account (8) - along with their first video on the topic - that i discovered this therapy from

i wish you the best of luck and i do genuinely hope that things get better for you soon. thank you for your patience in the delay of getting this to you

plain text links under the cut in case any of them get weird

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Parotraumagenic - parotraumagenic definition

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1feviU9YQ4o773XEDeZHyjKugNoM1hTgA/view - tulpa creation guide

https://www.reddit.com/r/Tulpas/wiki/guides/ - r/tulpa guides list

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Median - median systems definition

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Polyconscious - polyconscious definition

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Monoconscious - monoconscious definition

http://healthymultiplicity.com/ - healthy multiplicity

https://iocdf.org/expert-opinions/expert-opinion-self-directed-erp/ - self-directed exposure response prevention

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8xg9u8G/ - ERP tiktok

[shrimpmandan]

thanks for answering and explaining/expanding your thoughts more! im very tired and out of it but i felt like i needed to say something so i just word vomited and hope it made sense because its an important topic to me. yeah i basically agree as well! i think some people really only reblogged the post for the small portion were discussing out of the radfem context, but ofc im just giving the benefit of the doubt. i do wish there were more posts talking about the issue without having radfems and sex negativity all over it. i think there should be more resources about consent, maybe even something that compiles everyone's (or some) people's thoughts and definitions of what attraction is and what it means to them, what consent is and means to them, etc etc, it might be useful for people to see all kinds of definitions instead of just one or two, or just a simplified version, it keeps the definition of attraction and consent vague while also educating others and maybe even helping others discover what their own feelings are and such, while also having that baseline definition of consent that you said, smack on the front or something. if the government(s) cant do it then i guess the rest of us will have to (as always). but thats just me rambling. (also thank you for telling me its not my fault, i know its just basic courtesy and stuff but i do appreciate it, it means a lot to me :)

Of course! I appreciate being asked about it too, and also having you elaborate on why people reblogged it. Gave me some extra perspective beyond just my gut "grrr why is there a radfem on my dash" response.

[ventingoutmyass]

4.25.23

ill die one day. probably soon. please, if youre reading this, let my friends know.

i worry for them worrying for me. they need to know i care for them, no matter how little it seems. i care for them greatly. such different experiences, far away places from eachother, far away stories and lives outside our little bubble together. theres so much beauty in them, so much love and light i see in them, that we all see in eachother. 

tell them im sorry. sorry for it all. 

they were the last little bit of life i allowed myself, meeting them just after my biggest dip so far. human connection, such a great necessity, and they were the exception i made to my big rule. not on purpose, but it just happened that way, the way they grew on me, i clung to them many times before i allowed the twig to snap, those days back in october. i stopped talking to them, like i hadnt so every free moment and opportunity until that point. i let my head do the thing, the test, the “will they notice if i disappear”. i knew it was a mistake even as i made it, yet i allowed myself to get carried away into it. three weeks, it took. at the time it shocked me that it took so long. now i wonder how many months after my disappearance it would take until somebody once again asked the question. “Has anybody heard from them?”, and the simultaneous triple message from the other three. it would take months only of my own fault, vanishing often weeks at a time. its my fault. it always is, with issues such as these. 

tell them there was nothing to be done. tell them of how i cared for them. tell them of the screenshots of my favorite jokes, of the open tabs i keep of their stories, of the silent admiration for their passions and talents i keep to myself. oh how i respect them, oh how i cherish them. how i loved the feeling of meeting people, for the first time, who made me feel i could belong. the stories of the people i hold so dearly who i wouldnt meet for many years, if ever at all. 

the people whom ive read, whove never read me. maybe they could read me in this, i allow that. provide them this resource. allow them to find the bits and pieces of who they might know, in these short essays here and there. of the time or two which ive mentioned them. in the detail or two of who i am and the life ive lived, of the person i wished i had been, in the place id wished to leave. they know my real name. not the one picked for me, but the piece of it i chose for myself. one of them helped me to make that choice. the same person dictated its pronunciation. i had chosen against it over the years, but as soon as they spoke it the first time, it felt like mine; a gift. to cherish for the last of life i will live, for as long as i live it. that is me, and theyve all known it. they see me, perhaps in the way i wish all would. the truth ive always wanted. 

tell them i didnt mean to abandon them. tell them i would choose them over and over again in any other life, in every other body and mind than this. theyre worth it. they have names, they have lives, and faces and voices and dreams. i can not share them with you. i can not share anything. i am selfish in that. you will not know them as i do. but they will know. they know who they are. they know of me. they are the beauty i couldnt sacrifice to find for myself. 

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

vent post, .. putting it under readmore cus its long.

sooo yeah, basically, idk waht to do with my life, and i feel like a burden in the sense that i cant provide for myself rn. i never talk about my living situation but i am almost 29 yrs old, unemployed and having to be supported by my friends cus my family is too poor to help me in any way. like i have to live with my friend’s parents which somehow feels even more pathetic than living w my own parents.. i mean ofc i am very grateful to them for helping me but the guilt racks up more n more each day. when i was 14 my mom told me, ok you’re old enough to work now so you have to get a job if you want literally anything for yourself that isn’t the bare essentials. u want anything other than canned soup for dinner? thats on u. so i got a job, at 14!!! i think back now and im like what the fuck. i was a child... but alas. i worked and worked, i was almost never unemployed my whole life after age 14, except for during 2020 pandemic, and these past few months.

work, work, work, i worked so many piece of shit jobs, i never went to school or anything, there were a few good jobs here n there but they’d always end up getting sabotaged by one of my bipolar episodes. a lot of times, when i was rly desperate, i wld resort to escorting, which i just fucking hated and have been put in a lot of compromising situations and ugh. yeah, what im GETTING at is, ive literally never had security in my life, ive never had resources, the past 15 or so years have been lived in survival mode, and 6 months ago i finally fucking crashed and burned. like, no, i fucking refuse to work anymore, im suicidal all the time, ive never been able to heal from anything that’s happend to me, i dont care if i die broke and alone, i just cant work these demeaning ass jobs anymore. im very grateful to my friedns who have been helping me not die since then, i try rly hard to live frugally, i only eat what i rly need, rarely treat myslef, etc etc.

but now its like, where do i go from here? i know i need to start thinking about generating income again and it makes me so fucking sick. all i can rly do is commissions, but i hate putting a price on art, its only fun to me when im doing it for free. i dont want it to stop being fun. i dont want it to be about money. im scared to try i guess. i definitely dont want to work another stupid job but i also just sit in the house all day and it feels unhealthy. i dont want to meet people, i dont want coworkers, hate putting myself out there cus i cant relate to anyone. hate watching them in real time slowly realize that theres something seriously wrong with me, its embarrassing. i just need something to do.. i dont have a car or anything, i dont even know how to drive because i always figured id be too poor to afford a car. and so far ive been correct about that.

i guess this post is pretty embarrassing too but oh well.. i figure at least on here some ppl can relate.. like fuck i cant even get a therapist to respond to me. everyone just keeps begging me to get therapy as if it will save me. im really lonely w all my feelings and memories. i feel like im in purgatory and all i can do is keep drawing pictures for ppl to enjoy and trying to post things that are uplifting so i can at least make someone elses day a little brighter. but i wish i had a plan or an answer or a real goal. i reallty really really want to be nothing.

[estrangedaframian]

As Dean put the gun down on the pillow within eye shot, her ears fold down at the idea of him having to use it. A frown followed by it shortly after and she covers herself with the blanket for the time being. Jesus, she known being owned by a hunter would be like this, she would have rather been left in the can.

Her heart softened at the stories he told her. How shaken he was when he came home after some hunts. He was just taken pro cautions for the past trauma he had to encounter which was understandable. She just wished she could take it away for a moment but who wouldnt react in this situation.

"Even a shirt of yours is okay. I dont mind wearing manly clothes. I cant be picky, that wouldnt be fair." She softly retorts, looking up at him with her big brown eyes and tilts her head, almost like she always would when shes a kitty. Then she turns red at the mention of him naked. "Hey its different when you are a cat! You dont really think about them the same as when you are a human. You are only attatched to other cats. When Im like this, my human urges take over." She sticks her tongue out at him as he moves closer to her. For a moment, she did flinch, thinking he was gonna draw another weapon but realizes he was just handing her the gown.

She stays silent for a moment and gently takes the night gown. Looking up at him, she was happy to know he had his back turned. "Thank you." She said, slowly stepping out of bed and slipping on the gown. She was surprised it fit so well. As he continued to hint at the idea that she would hurt him, her nose scrunches and she pouts, her ears fold down even more.

"Dean. Stop it." She said, sitting back on the bed and looks up at him with her 'puppy dog' eyes. "As much and how well you have taken care of me, I wouldnt dream of hurting you. You fed me, kept me warm, nursed me back to health, and became one of the best people I know. I get you were a hunter and all but trust me, I am the least of your worries. Im almost certain you havent met a violent neko witch before. And notice how I said neko witch, I know how you feel about witches." She narrows her eyes at him then sighs.

"Anyway, let me introduce myself since I know so much about you between the burgers and the way you like to find humor in various situations with your outdated references." She jokes with a chuckle, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Rockelle Simmonds. Nice to meet you Dean."

Dean was saddened by her flinching and after he finished dressing and sat down next to her from across the bed, became determined to apologize for his bad behavior.

“… I’m sorry, kitty lady. Even before coffee, accusing someone of ill intent is… really not excusable… ‘specially someone who’s been there for me the way you have…”

He took her hand, patting it after he’d given it the initial shake. If they were supposed to be introducing themselves then why did it feel so much like a goodbye to his furry friend?

“Rockelle’s a nice name… Not something I’d call a cat, but still nice…” Winchester grinned, believing he’d be pressing a button. How quickly did his cheekiness turn into yawns and stretches, biting him in the butt. A man of his age should not be so quick to tease. Nevertheless, he had to to at least try to get her back for that crack about outdated references. That was just mean of her.

He sighed—that in and of itself serving as another apology. Apparently.

“You must’a been really scared, huh?” Dean nodded to himself. “Man… I know I’d be scared outta my wits if I was stuck in the body of a cat for months on end…”

Would she be without a home now that she was back in human form? All kinds of thoughts went swirling through Dean’s mind; at the forefront of those was the idea that the thing about her sister’s spell was simply a lie to cover up her real troubles.

… Maybe she’d never been stuck as a cat at all and chose to stay one out of resourcefulness. It was as plausible as it was clever, and as clever as it was pathetic.

“My home is still your home, Rockelle, as long as you need it… Jus’ wanted to get that out in the open… I-I know things aren’t gonna be the same between us, obviously, and maybe I’ll never see you again after today, but… I’m still really glad you meowed at ME, that day…"

starter for @estrangedaframian lets go kitty kat.

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[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

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