Tom Would Totally Do This But Make Excuses For Why It's Not Pathetic At All. Of Course Not. It's Only

how does Harry feel about the “I’ve come to collect you from the orphanage” role play?

harry has no proper dramatic sense, i fear, so he ruins the vibe by saying "i love you" and refusing to do the correct voice to be tom riddle sr.

tom riddle jr. has a much finer grasp of theatricality, so he takes his job as sirius in their "once i'm exonerated we can live together" role-play and as cedric in their "gargle my bathwater" role-play seriously.

Klimt + The Addams Family

remembered this old sketch of mine & im being so normal about it xx

there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter

tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on

truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that

Christmas sucks, because the Camaro is cold.

Billy watches his breath form little clouds. That's the only reason. He's got everything he needs right here. A blanket, a book and a bottle of his best friend Jack. Maybe he'd like a cookie, it's the holidays after all, but he's got to stay in shape anyway and can't give Neil a reason to push him around some more.

There's a knock on his window. It's a tall man with a beard and glasses, wearing an ushanka.

"I know what you're doing, boy."

"What the fuck, dude?" Billy frowns. Christmas sucks, because the wrong people won't leave him alone. There's a little kid inside him that's scared. Scared of strangers, scared of men that are even taller than his dad.

"You're plotting something. I know, I know, they build that fancy ass Starcourt mall, the peak of capitalism and you'd just like to take it down, right?"

Billy blinks. Wonders if he's half asleep already, caught in some weird fever dream. "What?"

The guy laughs. "Sorry, that was just a test."

"A test," Billy echoes. Are there any normal people living in Indiana? "For what?"

"To see if you're safe to talk to," the man says if Billy is the biggest idiot missing the most obvious thing in the world.

It doesn't make any sense to him. Billy hasn't ever been safe, how would he know what that means? And why would a stranger care? He's probably crazy, the kid inside him whispers. He's bigger than Neil and crazy.

"You know, your car is really nice and all. But it's Christmas and you've been here for four days and..."

"Have you been watching me?" Billy sits up, clinging onto the little bit of rage lighting up inside him. It's warming him a little.

"The usual observation of unusual occurrences in the area my friends live in." The man shrugs. "I've got a warehouse in Sesser. It's warm."

"A what?" His rages gets overwritten by more confusion.

"There will be pirozhki." The man seems to think a moment. "You can invite Steve! You like Steve, right?"

The man has been watching him. Steve met him here two days ago. Did he seem them? God, Billy is such an idiot. Meeting at the quarry, thinking no one would see. Billy is so dead.

"It's fine," the man says. "You like Steve, I like Alexei."

"Who's that?" Billy asks. His head is dizzy, like he already drank that bottle of whiskey.

"My..." The guy pauses. "My Steve, I guess."

Oh. He never met anyone who was... like that. Like him. It's a comforting thought. Like a blanket. Billy probably shouldn't go to stranger's warehouses, but Christmas sucks - because the Camaro is cold and he'd really like not to be alone.

"I'll talk to Steve first," Billy says. He doesn't want to end up murdered in some place called Sesser.

The man nods. "It's good not to trust easy."

Billy snorts. Yeah, tell him about that. He wonders if he's about to spend Christmas with a crazy guy and his partner. And whatever pirozhki are.

"I don't even know your name."

"Murray."

Murray stretches out his hand.

"Billy."

Billy takes it.

‘… and mostly researching ways to become immortal,’ Tom hears himself blabbing. He’s absolutely rat-arsed; evidently he’d underestimated Slughorn’s dedication to hedonism. The booze is strong.

‘Why the fuck would you want that?’ Harry mumbles, shoving Tom further into the musty dark of a cramped broom cupboard. Tom doesn’t know how they got here. ‘Not dying? Walking ‘round … but you’re just a fuck pile of zombie bones?’

‘Obviously,’ it takes a few tries for Tom to properly pronounce that word, ‘I’ll have to be healthily immortal. I just don’t know how.’

‘But you’ve already made your first Horcrux. No point denying, Tom, I know you have.’

Tom squints at Harry. In the low light, he can just make out the softened outline of his cheeks; his lips.

Tom forgets what he’s supposed to interrogate Harry about.

‘Dying is bad,’ he settles lamely. ‘Dying is – you’re everything, and then you’re nothing.’

Harry doesn’t speak for a while, he just looks at Tom, his breath ghosting Tom’s skin.

‘Boom – then nothing,’ Tom stresses. He wants Harry to understand.

‘Okay,’ Harry whispers, like he’s letting Tom in on a grand secret, ‘but sometimes you come back because somebody needs you so much.’

Tom shakes his head. ‘No one’s come back for me,’ he says, too drunk not to wallow in self-pity.

And Harry – to his intense dismay – pulls him into a tight hug, fingers digging into his back.

‘No,’ Tom complains, ‘not this.’

Secretly he thinks it’s not all that bad. Harry’s warm, lithe body a comfortable weight against his own. Harry’s hair, soft and springy and tickling his neck. Harry’s clean, masculine scent; of his body soap and the leather gear he wears to Quidditch practice …

‘You’re wrong,’ Harry says softly, his voice sounding muffled against Tom’s pullover. ‘I did.’

15052024 | @microficmay | nothing & everything

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