#my life span grows longer...

[evermarch]

“like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

an interesting thing about the sotr epilogue is that, despite its placement in the early years post-war, where haymitch would be in his mid-40s, it feels like it’s set at the end of his life. his tone is reflective. he speaks often in past tense. he talks about lenore dove coming to him, and he uses her language, saying that he’s not sure he’ll be in the “old therebefore” much longer. how his liver’s destroyed and he’s not sobering up, even if he’s not drinking for the same reasons.

but this is the same book where we saw one poor little girl transformed into another. the same series where skin grafts grow easily in a lab. where “genetic manipulation” class is part of the core curriculum before university. where mutts with practically supernatural abilities are designed at will. where the capitol populace has a notable substance abuse problem. in my mind, there’s no way transplanting a liver, a regenerating organ, particularly in a district whose new industry is medicine, isn’t possible.

so, to me, haymitch isn’t near the end of his life unless he chooses not to pursue a future. which he very well could. as he says, “when my time comes, it comes, but i’ve no idea when that will be.” but i think there’s a lot of evidence that he would choose to stick around. or at least, to try. namely, his lenore dove telling him he can’t go to her yet. because he needs to look after his family. and geese, for one thing, have an average life span of 10, 15, 20 years.

whether haymitch is or is not at the end of his life, i think it’s clear that he has not and does not intend to marry or have children beyond katniss and peeta. but i think the wording of the line which best establishes that is notable. “lenore dove likes it best [in the meadow], and I’m content where she’s content. like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

when he reflects on the life he’s already lived, he uses past tense. when he talks about his life now, on his reasons for sticking around with katniss and peeta, haymitch uses present tense. lenore dove exists in both places. throughout the epilogue, she exists in the present. she grows older with him. so i think it’s interesting that haymitch uses past tense tense for this one line. “we really did mate for life.”

that’s not to say that haymitch ever “moves on,” because that’s a false characterization of people who lose their loves in the first place. however, i think this line is past tense because it makes this question, like the rest of haymitch’s life, ambiguous. it also opens up discussion on what “mating for life” means. it’s a statement which implies exclusivity, but i don’t think necessitates it. because it’s not true that geese mate for life. they mate until one dies, after which the surviving goose mourns and then finds a new partner.

there’s room for a version of haymitch, who lives many years past the epilogue, who finds romantic attachment again.

if he does, he would not be replacing lenore dove. he would not be disgracing their romance or defiling their love. and 16 year old haymitch, believing he’s about to die, caught in the throes of the exploding tank and grief over ampert’s death, knew it, too. he was “furious” with himself that he didn’t tell lenore dove to “move on” from his death, because he was terrified of her living out her life haunted by his death. even while he desperately clung to her as he faced his imminent end, he was hoping she’d go on without him.

to love someone like all-fire is to love them enough to let them be free to go on after death. and that’s how haymitch loves lenore dove. and that’s how lenore dove loves him, too, because she is his goose. except haymitch has never been free to go on. the life haymitch was terrified for lenore dove to live is exactly the life he does live. from the end of the book, we know that he is doomed to repeat the 16th year of his life over and over again for 25 years. there’s no reprieve until katniss and peeta come into the picture.

yet, the epilogue’s tone is entirely different. it’s melancholy, but hopeful. he is no longer the 16 year old boy living in a repeating cycle of his own tragedy. when he next revisits it, it’s on his own terms. from that point on haymitch is finally allowed to grow up. to live a life in the “after.” to truly enter his mourning period. for someone new to join him in this new life would not mean he leaves behind lenore dove, or that she’s no longer his mate. because we know lenore dove stays with him, and will continue to stay with him, always.

and it’s likely that anyone with whom he finds comfort in his remaining years would carry someone with them, too. there’s no shortage of people who lost their loves in panem, whether from the war or before. there’s no shortage of people who would understand that his love likes it in the meadow. because maybe theirs tells stories around the fireplace in a creaky house in the seam. or fashions snares in the woods around district 12.

maybe 5, 10, 15 years in the future, when his geese are all grown up and two new goslings hatch, he’ll be an example of a different kind of love. of how new love is not a dilution of the love that was lost. of how lost love never dies, even as life goes on. of how love is not finite.

regardless of whether haymitch finds something resembling romantic love again, i am at least comforted by the thought that his end is much more peaceful than we dreamed it could be. because he has a family again. and because lenore dove is with him, too. and, no matter how long it takes for him to leave the old therebefore, she’s waiting for him in the next world.

[a-confused-spoon]

...y'know, it's not just the fact that Caitlyn knows Viktor, but the fact that this Caitlyn met this Viktor

I know I already talked about this, but like- HELLO??!

Mind you, Caitlyn isn't just a little sister to Jayce, her parents are also Jayce's patrons and her mother works with Heimerdinger (who Viktor used to work for) on the Council- the Council that basically dictated what kind of use hextech was going to serve in Piltover for however long the timeskip was (as said by Jayce in 1x04), so there's no way these two didn't have at least a couple interactions once Viktor becomes Jayce's partner.

Tell you what, I think these two vibed pretty well too.

First thing first, I just know Caitlyn treated the idea of meeting Viktor the exact same way a younger sibling wants to meet their older sibling's crush; "yeah I need to meet this so-deemed super cool person so I can shit-talk about you to them 'cause it's fun, but also what makes them so special to you and/or so stupid they'd want to spend time with you, allegedly?" type of deal. And there's more to this too 'cause- no wait, I really need to stress this point:

I think it's safe to assume Caitlyn didn't have many friends growing up, if any at all, and Jayce (who's what, twice her age?) is seemingly the only person she shared a bond with where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she didn't feel she was, which only became more and more a thing as time went by.

And everything is fine until the events of 1x02: there's an explosion, Jayce is put away, there's a trial and all of the sudden she's lost her big brother under no explanation other than "he's a misfit and you can't be friends with him anymore", and as far as she knows, Jayce will no longer be in her life and will likely give up all his hard work. She lost her best friend and he lost his purpose in life, all in the span of a single day.

...and then, the very next day, everything seems to be fine again? There's a Council meeting, she's allowed to be cool with Jayce again and when she asks what the fuck happened to this man he opens with "So there's this guy...".

I can only imagine little Caitlyn's thoughts whilst she was processing all the new info: "Okay so you're telling me there's a guy with a funny accent, Piltover's most important person's ex assistant, who I nor anyone's ever heard of nor seen for some forsaken reason, who you met literally last night and he sweet talked you into not giving up because it didn't work when I tried- rude but okay- and then he convinced you to commit a crime to help you complete the research my parents funded? When you were already at risk of exile? And that research was super personal to you specifically, but now it's a you guys' thing? And he's from the- WAIT, HE'S FROM THE UNDERCITY?!!"

'Cause Caitlyn was curious about the undercity as a kid too, innocently so; you're telling her she has the opportunity to talk with someone who didn't just go there, but used to live there? Someone who managed to get where he is with nothing other than the sheer power of will?!

Meeting this Viktor guy is no longer just a little "I wish", it becomes a fucking mission.

...meanwhile Viktor's barely aware the Kirammans have a daughter to begin with.

I mean- he does know, but just because Jayce mentioned her a couple times, perhaps forgetting to mention her being a 14 year-old. Not that Viktor would give a shit either way, he isn't really fond of anyone in Piltover (aside from Jayce, Heimerdinger and Sky) and the likely spoiled heir of an ultra-rich family is no exception to this, regardless of age. However, she is close to Jayce, and her extremely important family is funding what is also his research now, so he's like "whatever, I guess I'll be as cordial as I can with this miss Caitlyn if I ever meet her".

Which happened, at a certain point in time.

I think Viktor was pleasantly surprised to find out that this good hearted and fairly smart girl was also very curious to know more about the undercity- perhaps he's taken a little aback at first; she is a councilor's daughter and he has to pay attention to what he says around her after all. But at the same time, she is a councilor's daughter and if she's so well intended then why not answer truthfully to her questions when she could, one day, help through her family's influence?

And on the other side, little Caitlyn absolutely adores Viktor, and not just because he's witty and has a funny accent, but because Viktor talks to her like she's an adult. Cait isn't really used to this sort of treatment, but of course Viktor doesn't address her like a clueless child that needs protection from the real world: that's a privilege the kids in Zaun aren't really given, and they are no less important than her. Besides, what's the harm?

It's also great because whenever the Kirammans organize a ceremony of sorts to celebrate some new hextech achievement as Jayce's patrons, Caitlyn and Viktor would manage to chat separately from the rest of the obnoxiously rich guests, so she doesn't have to feel out of place or babied and he doesn't have to be at the centre of attention as Jayce's partner. Viktor would also get a healthy dose of rich people gossip through little Cait's unintentional open disdain for the environment her parents keep her in, and the only reason why Caitlyn allows herself to lower her guard when talking about it is because she knows damn well that Viktor both probably agrees and has no intention nor reason to tell anyone. If anything, he just comments sarcastically to most stories, and she's happy she can share them with someone who won't say "now now, don't say that about so and so".

And of course, whenever Caitlyn comes to visit them in the lab (not a very common occurrence since the 1x01 accident), Jayce is just happy to see them getting along... whenever Caitlyn isn't whispering something to Viktor while they both look at him, at least.

[pyract0]

╰┈➤Angst thoughts (Hsr edition)

☁︎First proper post back in a bit over a month! Will start writing longer stuff again but gonna go a little slower for now. ☁︎Short! Might write longer fics on specific one's at a later date but more just putting my thoughts down currently! (Lowkey cooked these up at like 1am while laying in bed) ☁︎ Warnings: Angst, just angst with no comfort. Love angst even though it physically hurts me to read or write, Mentions of death/ loss. Gore and cannibalism for Jiaoqiu's part ☁︎ No specified gender/ physical descriptions, referred to as "you", Jiaoqiu has a longer part cause first time writing for him :) ☁︎ Jing yuan, Blade, Sunday, Dan heng, Boothill, Jiaoqiu ☁︎Part 2, Part 3

╰┈➤ Jing yuan

You being his spouse at the same time he had Mimi, someone who helped care for the big cat. Not being a long life species, you were bound to pass before him and when you did, he kept everything of yours tucked away somewhere to preserve your memory. Yet as more time passes, he slowly begins to forget your face and over the centuries all his photos of you eventually end up lost or destroyed.

Imagine Jing yuan napping more frequently the longer that passes trying to engrave your face into his memories, but with each passing day your face becomes more and more blurry.

Eventually he forgets you all together, only having a name that no longer holds any meaning.

╰┈➤Blade

Yingxing being hopelessly in love with you but never asking you out, knowing his time with you would be limited due to your species being that of a longer life span. A while after his "death" you also pass, never finding out of his true feelings, seemingly hitting the end of your love story that never took off.

You meet again in your next life, running into your reincarnation constantly during his time in Penacony, two lost souls who managed to find their way back to each other. Yet, you don't remember him and you are one of the only things he does recognise from his past.

Blade who is now stuck with you, never losing his past feelings and forced to watch as you start anew with someone else because he was nothing more than a stranger now.

╰┈➤ Sunday

Sunday doing everything in his power to reinforce the dreamscape, to make it the place for you to spend out the rest of his life together. When he loses his fight and everything comes crumbling down, being taken in by the Astral express, he loses you too.

Not because of any deal that caused eternal separation, simply the fact that the dreamscape was the only thing keeping you from being simply a memory. He had already lost you, yet the place created allowed you to return to his side.

He had refused to accept your death when it happened, now it was like you had died all over again.

╰┈➤ Dan heng

You who he had never even met, never uttered a word to yet falling for. Dan heng who retained some of his previous incarnations memories, including those of you. He could never have you, didn't even know if you were still alive. Couldn't even recall your name but he found himself growing attached.

He was stuck in the past, living through someone else's eyes, yet he didn't care if it meant being closer to you.

Though you were forever out of reach.

╰┈➤ Boothill

Boothill who after the loss of his family and home planet, keeps a flash drive of his happiest memories somewhere easily accessible to him. Often spends his nights when he isn't completing bounties just watching through his life with you and your adopted daughter like a movie.

Though he eventually loses the drive, maybe destroyed or simply misplaced in a haze, feeling as if a part of his was lost. Gave up his own mortal body to extend his life to avenge you, but without the constant reminder he cherished begins losing hope.

╰┈➤ Jiaoqiu (This is based on a theory(?) I saw of borisin meat being capable of healing, gore and cannibalism warning!)

Jiaoqiu who after losing his vision to the poison, slowly starts losing hope of finding someone able to heal the injury. You, his spouse who was born with borisin blood, feeling guilty even though you had no part in the incident in the shackling prison. Wanting to do something, anything if it meant helping him, you used yourself to heal him.

As a denizen of the abundance, your body had something that was keeping you seemingly immortal, healing you beyond something natural. You exploited it, at the risk of your own life.

It started off small, extracting your blood and using it as "medicine". Yet it wasn't enough, and you were too stubborn to fail the promise of restoring his eyesight. Then it was half of your own vision, an eye for an eye. Still nothing.

Without knowing he was eating away at you. Literally. The incision from the kidney you tore out of your own body was messily stitched, chunks of your flesh missing. Even if he Jiaoqiu could tell something was wrong, he never mentioned it, ignoring the distinctive, metallic scent that made his nose twitch is discomfort. He had always liked your cooking, yet the meat began to feel off the more days that passed.

Bandages became like a second skin to you, ivory stained with a deep crimson that kept spreading. Maybe it was more he needed, maybe something of more worth, you weren't going to stop until he could see again.

Your liver? You can live with half of one.

If it meant repaying the sins of your species and their crimes, you were willing to sacrifice your body for your lover.

And eventually it began to work, Jiaoqiu waking up being able to see. Albeit blurry, he could see, to make out the shape of your stumbling form coming closer to your shared bed he occupied. You had succeeded in fulfilling your promise, just for his last memory of you to be that of you collapsing covered in poorly wrapped bandages and sloppy stitches over your abdomen.

╰┈➤ Note

Don't know what possessed me to write Jiaoqiu's, not my usual thing but I got the idea and lowkey had to write that down.

Sorry for all the deaths, you get 5 big booms.  💥  💥  💥  💥  💥

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THEM HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU .

characters. xiao zhongli kaeya diluc childe alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff kind of! also kind of suggestive, based on how you look at it an. i am losing my mind. is it obvious (part 4379543!) | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

goes out of his way to avoid you. just the quickest glance can bring a full flush to his face, a telltale sign of his infatuation with you. he begs rex lapis to make you think he doesn't hate you, no matter how many times he disappears as quick as he arrives when talking to you.

zhongli

squeezes out every last bit of mora to buy you treats, and sometimes borrows childe's money for it. the cutest keychain, or the most delicious looking sweets – whatever he thinks you'd like, he'd buy for you. sometimes his payments come in the form of IOUs.

kaeya

writes letters to you, but never sends them. each letter has a heart-wrenching essay-like message – it spans pages, trust him – dedicated to you, but kaeya never has the heart to actually send it out to your address. sticking on the stamps and pretending that he did will have to do.

diluc

lets his touch linger a little longer. a pat on the back can turn into him dusting off your shoulders, insisting that the recent fight left a splotch of mud on your tunic, when there was nothing at all. he's subtle about it, but his red-growing cheeks are a blaring signal that you notice.

childe

smiles more around you. he's a jokey man by nature, but with you? his smiles are genuine. he no longer needs to hide his troubles past a facade of happiness because with you, his happiness is genuine. it's real, and it's seeping through every pore of his body with the life you breathe into him.

alhaitham

like childe, he smiles – the stone face he usually reserves for the public is wiped away, now replaced with a gentle and soft smile that lights up his face. his demeanor changes; alhaitham is noticeably happier around you. people tell you that you change him, but you never seem to notice.

kaveh

he laughs. there's no more fake laughter to get out of situations or to please old aunties who are too involved in his life for him to be happy. he genuinely laughs at every joke you tell, or every silly gift you playfully give to him. these mourning flowers seem to perk up a little every time you're around.

taglist. @zuyoo @starz222 @ilyuu @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @dxstopiaa @mccnstruck @xiaosonlybeloved @trqvcii @slvdsjjk @liminalimmortal @vennnnn-diagram @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @ganyusbrideee @abyssalsprince @favonius-captain @snobwaffles @sn1perz @milkwithspiceyicecubes @softcosmixs @nnasv @chichikoi@aimynx @xiaxilia open! send an ask to be added.

[regressionschool]

PAMPERS PUBLIC SCHOOL REFORM: EDUCATION REIMAGINED OR REGRESSION GONE TOO FAR?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

For years, education reform has been a topic of heated debate. Traditional schooling often leaves students overwhelmed by stress, struggling with expectations, and ill-prepared for real life. In response, school districts across the country have begun partnering with Pampers Corporation to introduce a radically new approach to learning—one that eliminates unnecessary pressure, fosters emotional well-being, and removes the burdens of growing up too quickly.

The Pampers Public School Reform Program has now fully replaced traditional education in multiple districts, converting high schools into structured learning environments tailored to a simpler, more guided lifestyle. Students are relieved of responsibilities that once weighed them down, such as complex coursework, college preparation, and even basic hygiene routines. In their place? A nurturing, preschool-style environment where comfort and security come first.

While many officials praise the program’s success, not everyone is celebrating.

"I’m Not a Toddler—Why Are They Treating Me Like One?"

Emma Reynolds, 18, had spent years working toward an honors diploma, with hopes of attending a prestigious university. But when her high school was converted to a Pampers Academy, she found herself pulled into a system she never agreed to.

"It’s not school—it’s a daycare," Emma hisses, gripping the edge of her desk, which is barely big enough to accommodate her.

Around her, the other students seem perfectly content in their new reality. The majority have already transitioned to full-time Pampers, no longer expected to even attempt bathroom breaks. Many sit in their seats with thickly padded bottoms, others waddle freely around the classroom, their sagging diapers peeking out from beneath colorful onesies. Some suckle on pacifiers while listening to their teacher read a picture book aloud, their attention spans seemingly far removed from any concern about essays, exams, or college applications.

Emma isn’t like them. She remembers what school used to be.

"They call me ‘sweetie’ and ‘princess’ and pat my head when I get answers right. They make me sit crisscross-applesauce on the rug during storytime. They don’t teach math, they teach shapes. We have scheduled nap times. And worst of all?" She shifts uncomfortably, her thick pull-ups rustling beneath her skirt. "They won’t even let us use the bathroom like normal people."

Under the Pampers system, students are placed in protective undergarments based on their "developmental needs." For most, that means ultra-absorbent Pampers diapers, ensuring accidents never disrupt classroom learning. Only a handful, like Emma, are still permitted pull-ups, though even that comes with restrictions.

"I told them I don’t need them. I told them I can hold it during class. But guess what?" She clenches her fists. "I couldn’t."

She shakes her head, looking away. "And when you have an accident, they make a big deal about it. They take you to the ‘quiet corner,’ change you, tell you it’s okay, and give you a sticker for ‘trying your best.’ It’s humiliating. But the worst part?" She swallows hard. "The more accidents you have, the more they ‘adjust’ your routine."

At first, Emma was only required to wear pull-ups during class. Now, she’s in them full-time. She doesn’t know what the next "adjustment" will be.

"What happens if they decide I don’t need pull-ups anymore?" she whispers. "What happens if they decide I need…more?"

A Mother’s Concern: “I Don’t Know How Much Longer She’ll Last”

Emma’s mother, Debbie Hall, initially believed the program was an opportunity for her daughter to learn patience and adapt to new challenges. Now, she isn’t so sure.

"She’s been fighting this since day one," Debbie admits, rubbing her temples. "But every time she resists, the school just… doubles down."

At first, Emma refused to use her Pampers-issued pull-ups, insisting she would simply wait until she got home. It didn’t last.

"She told me she’d hold it," Debbie sighs, shaking her head. "She didn’t."

When the school called, Debbie was asked to bring a fresh pull-up and a change of clothes—a moment she describes as one of the most surreal experiences of her life.

"I stood outside the classroom, holding a pack of training pants meant for toddlers, about to hand them to my eighteen-year-old daughter." She exhales sharply. "I don’t know how much longer she’ll last before she stops fighting it."

And that, she fears, is exactly what Pampers wants.

Success Stories: “Happier, Healthier Students”

Despite cases like Emma’s, school officials and many parents insist the program is working. According to Superintendent Laura Whitmore, dropout rates have plummeted, student anxiety is at an all-time low, and behavioral issues are almost nonexistent.

"When we take away the pressures of growing up too fast, we allow students to flourish in a safe, nurturing space," Whitmore explains. "Pampers helps us create a structured learning environment where students can focus on emotional well-being and positive reinforcement.

Studies show that students in the program are better rested, less anxious, and more cooperative. Many enthusiastically embrace their new routine, growing attached to naptime, play-based learning, and the security of their Pampers uniforms.

"Some students come in fighting," Whitmore admits. "But as they settle into the routine, they come to appreciate the comfort and care we provide. And the best part? They never have to worry about making ‘big kid’ mistakes again."

The Future of Education?

With more schools adopting the Pampers model, traditional high school education may soon become a thing of the past. For students like Emma, who still long for independence, the future remains uncertain. But for many others, a world without adult pressures, expectations, or even bathroom breaks is a dream come true.

And as the Pampers program continues to expand, one thing is clear:

For the next generation, growing up may no longer be necessary.

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because learning should be comfortable.)

[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter one- Love returned

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!reader

Context: Astrid and you have been dating two years before a tragic accident happened to you, ending your life. She spends a year alone somehow trying to contact you from the living as you're in the afterlife. When finding that all of her attempts are futile, she turned to her mother's ability but was quickly reminded of how her mother "somehow" could never see the people Astrid wished to see the most.

Warnings: Probably bad writing (I'm sorry), Death

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I'm not so much familiar with tumblr other than reading. I'm not much of a writer either, this would be like the first piece I post ever. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, I will correct as many as I see. Also, my brain was a bit foggy when remembering the new Beetlejuice Beetlejuice movie so if there's a mistake in that too, I'm sorry. Other than that, I hope you guys enjoy. I have been heavily inspired by many other amazing writers and I hope I really do capture all of the characters as correctly as I can. Also, I'm not expecting this series to blow up, i'll add another chapter if I see many people interact with this one.

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

┏━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┓

Letʼs be honest, Astrids life was definitely not one that usually someone finds themselves in. A ‘psychicʼ mother, who Astrid believes makes things up, an artist grandmother who seems to be an emotional wreck now that her husband is dead, and finally, a father who she no longer has. Astrid couldn't recall the last time her life was stable, from the beginning it had always be something with her family.

Now, with the passing of her grandfather and her mother suddenly marrying her manager who she is blindly following and clearly not seeing how he exploits her. She finds her world completely upside down and the one time she finds someone who makes her feel at least a bit normal, the universe seems to keep taking any form of normalcy from her. Once upon a time, it had been you and Astrid. The one person who kept her head straight as her world span.

Granted, you didn't come from the perfect family either but you always had found a way to excuse their actions despite Astridʼs constant nagging about your family and their almost pertinacious attitudes.

Your mother, a woman who almost seems to so desperately want to fit in with the women of the neighborhood. Your father who loved his image and his family's image. Your older sister who was always trying to somehow one-up you. Your family cared about the big things, you always found yourself content with the small things. You had always excused their behaviors with simple statements like,

“That's just how they are.” or, “No family is perfect.”

Astrid would cave eventually to your excuses but not with good attitude. Now remembering it, it felt like such a close but distant memory. It had only been a year, almost two, of your passing and yet Astrid finds herself dug in a hole the universe seemed to only bury her deeper in. Every memory had been bittersweet. Between every laugh shared, smiling in the middle of kisses, comforting smells theyʼd grow to find solace in, compliments, listening to music together, there had also been disagreements, comforting each other about things that neither of them had caused or been involved in, emotional damage, and trying to balance finding middle ground in each otherʼs crazy lives.

A year.

The thought of it makes Astrid almost wince, thoughts that seemed to be never ending and had loose ends. Why wasn't she there? She had always thought to herself. Why didn't she stop you? Questions to be left unanswered now that you were gone and she had no one to turn to. She had gone to her mother, who she had never believed was a ghost whisperer or paranormal insighter as everyone saw her, practically begging to have her somehow see you, hear you, feel you. But, like every attempt, they were once again futile.

This had made her more angry with her mother. First, she couldn't see her father and now she can't see you. Why is that every time she needs her mother to see a certain ghost for her, she never can but for others she can? It all felt stupid to her, how could people believe her mother?

Astrid found herself visiting Winter River frequently despite not liking staying with her grandmother and mother, especially when that daft man her mother called a “boyfriend” was around. She saw right through his act of the ‘caring, loving, and supportive’ boyfriend. Yet, she felt like she was the only one who could see that. How could someone propose to someone on the day of their father's wake?! She disliked the town, even more the people who foolishly believed her mother “abilities” to see paranormal phenomenons.

Yet, there she had spent most of her free time at the town during spring, summer, and winter break. Her relationship with Winter River had always been horrible yet she couldn't bring herself to say that she hated it there. How could she say that when it was this very same town that she had met you?

Standing there once again, in front of a grave that she became all too familiar with. Yours. It was almost comical how your parents had practically milked your death with every ounce they could get from it. Parading around the town, almost as if making it an excuse to gain from. They had quickly became the family in which everyone had gone to support when you had died. People would constantly go to your home, try to show their support, bring gifts even. Your parents loved every second of the attention.

No surprise that your mother had gained popularity among the women of your neighborhood's community. They only pitied her but masked it with sympathy as your mother would say, “She would've loved to be here” whenever someone had invited her to some so-called ‘important’ event among the other dull rich women. Your father had gotten a raise from his job after your death, again, out of pity of the poor family who had lost their ‘precious’ daughter. Your sister had gotten annoyed about how much you had been the focus after your death. She had expect people to move on after months but now seeing that it has been one, almost two, years of your passing and you being the center of attention, it had made her a bit bitter.

As Astrid stood in front of your grave and the flowers that adorned it, a small half-hearted smile on her lips. Many of the times that she had found herself in front of your grave, though she thought that somehow talking to the dead and getting a response back was stupid, she had always found herself talking out-loud to your grave, hoping for a sign or response that never really came.

“I miss you. Iʼm sorry that I havenʼt visited recently. My grandfather passed away, guess heʼd be with you now, right? Sometimes I wonder if youʼre with my dad or talk to him over there. I know if you were to be listening to me, you'd be rubbing it in my face how I always thought these kinds of things were stupid and now iʼm standing here like an idiot talking to myself and expecting a response from you.”

She smiled to herself as she thought about how youʼd tease her for this. She missed the banter between the two of you, her smile somewhat fading at the empty ache in her heart.

“I wish I could say that I hate you for leaving me here by myself, knowing that life is hard. We were supposed to be going through this life together, though. I wonʼt, I canʼt. I love you and my chest is aching every single day at this back and forth in my mind of memories that we should be looking back at together, happily, and now I just get this bittersweet feeling with the horrible reminder of your death. As much as I don't like it or believe it, I wish I had somehow gained this stupid ability my mother thinks she has.”

Astrids voice had faltered as she felt a frown tugging at her lips and her tears begin to faintly blur her vision. She took a deep breath, pulling herself together as she spoke again.

“I just want you to come home. I know that I always thought it was stupid how you had said ʻhome is where the heart isʼ, but truly I had just felt so bashful to think that someone like me could possibly be someone's home. The statement itself, I had always thought was a bit corny. Now, I find myself saying that I want to go home even while being at home. Funny, huh? You were always such a sap..”

With that and a sad smile, Astrid backed away from your grave. A soft sigh escaping her lips as she once again hoped that you had somehow received her words.

━━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━━

Hours later, Astrid found herself, once again, in your room. She sneaks in through the window because she hates the idea of having to knock on the front door and have a conversation with your parents. They had been supportive of your relationship, yes, but like everything else, it was for their own personal gain. They had seen how other families were inclusive so they thought if they were too, theyʼd fit in more. Astrid had already known that they wouldn't dare to go into your room.

Your family had always hated the way that you decorated your room with endless posters, music, records and vinyls here and there, you loved your music. It was drastically differently from your sister and parents which preferred a more elegant and clean look. Thatʼs why whenever there were visitors, theyʼd never introduce your room to them. Yet, it was your safe haven and Astrid knew that.

After your death, she had taken it upon herself to take care of your vinyls, CDʼs, record player, and plants, all taken cared of. She felt that it made her feel like you were still here. As if she was staying in your room while you were out and about in the town. Her imagination took her far when it came to making up excuses for your absence rather than accepting the fact that you were dead.

She hummed to herself as she finished watering the last plant in your room. Once she was finished, she had gone over to your records, flipping through each of them, trying to find a song to play. Thatʼs when she had heard a small noise in the room. It was unusual to say the least, no one had ever dared to come into your room, it was just her. She shrugged it off as nothing or simply a noise coming from your window.

Then again, a small noise. The noise of a shoe squeaking from across the room. Her eyebrows had furrowed before she whipped her head around towards the direction of the noise. Upon landing her eyes on your face. She felt as if she was dreaming but it had startled her so that she felt her vision suddenly blacking out. When falling back, all she could remember was the feeling of someoneʼs cold hands catching her.

When Astrid awoke, she found herself lying on your bed despite having passed out almost across the room near your records. She almost dreaded waking up, she could have sworn she had seen you. Was it a dream? Did she make it up in her head because she missed you so much? Her vision blurred a bit before finally focusing, the feeling of a dip in the bed and a cold hand holding hers had startled her.

Quickly, she had shot up and off of your bed. Her eyes finally landing on you who had also shot up on the other side of the bed when she did.

“Where are we going?-” You had began speaking before you were cut off by Astrids loud exclaim.

“What the fuck!”

Your eyes scanned the room, your eyebrows furrowed as you turned around to see if there had been anyone behind you which earned a scoff from the other girl.

“Wait, you can see me now?” You asked as your eyebrows raised and your eyes returned to Astrid across the bed.

“Can I see you? Yeah, the better question is can I believe it? Is this another dream?” Astrid climbed over the bed and flung herself onto you. She clung onto your, now, cold body, that hadnʼt bothered her right now.

“What's the matter? You look like youʼve seen a ghost.” Your arms wrapped around the girl almost protectively, a soft laugh escaping you.

“Not funny.” Her words were flat, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She almost didnʼt know what to say as she stared at you. She had dreamed of you before, sure, but never like this. This felt too real. Your skin was more pale and less live as she had usually dreamed, your body cold, your chest was stilled, as if not taking air in or out. She hadnʼt noticed her bottom lip quivering or the tears in the corner of her eyes that had began to form.

“Hey, hey... Donʼt get all sappy on me now, iʼve been watching you this whole time! I hope you know that I followed you literally everywhere.” Your hands had gone to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away any tears as they fell from Astrid's eyes.

“Youʼd better have.” She had joked which earned another soft laugh from you. The sound of your laugh - so familiar - seemed to set her off. Her arms tightened around your shoulders as all of the feelings she bottled up over the past few months seemed to just burst out of her.

“I literally watched over you for a whole year. Trust me, I heard every word you were saying to the sky or my grave, hoping I was near to hear you. I was and I canʼt believe you've gotten all sappy, Deetz. You always told me that I was the sap and there you were spilling your guts and hoping my ghost was near.” One of her hands unconsciously moving from her cheek to her back, gently rubbing it.

“They were never one-sided conversations, I was always replying you just couldnʼt hear or see me. I did have some one-sided conversations, though. Like when youʼd be listening to my music or watching a movie and laying on my bed, moping, Iʼd be laid next to you and talk to you. I was always geeking out anyway, you know how I am about my passions.” You added and a snort escaped Astrid.

Her grip on you seemed to tighten as your voice registered in her ears. You were here, you were real.

“I know I sounded like an absolute idiot - I sounded like a broken record begging for you.” Her voice said as she buried her face into your shoulder.

“Come on, I never really left your side, Astrid. I was just hoping the entire time that what you had said about your momʼs ability being fake was real and that you'd somehow gain her ghost whispering abilities. I just wanted you to see me, hear me, feel me. Iʼve been so lonely. Sure, I hang out and laugh with you all the time but I missed actually talking to you and you bantering with me.” A frown tugged at your lips involuntarily.

“You didnʼt sound like a broken record. every word youʼd hope I had heard was beautiful - sappy - but beautiful. Gosh, you donʼt know how horrible it has been watching you cry about me and not being able to do anything about it. My ghosted body was always reaching for you but you wouldn't feel a thing. I promise you, I always held you and trying to do anything I can to get you to seem me but nothing was working.” You added as you buried your face into her shoulder, trying to get impossibly closer to her.

“Iʼm not a ghost whisperer. Don't think youʼre on the loose. I am mad at you, for the record.” Her hands balling the fabric of your shirt between her fist. She inhaled and exhaled deeply - as if your presence was the only thing keeping her grounded at the moment.

“I know, I know. I promise to make it up for the rest of my afterlife. Though, you gotta to admit, you have to believe your momʼs abilities now that you can see me. I know you said you hated the attention that your mom receives for being... Well, her. But they weren't fake after all!” You shook your head with a small laugh.

“Ghost whisperer.” You mumbled with a small smile, her hand immediately smacking you in the back of the head. Which had earned a small, ʻowʼ, from you.

“I donʼt-” She had began saying before her protest had been interrupted by a shuddering breath and a few silent tears falling from her eyes as she held onto tightly.

“I donʼt hate them.” She mumbled before sighing.

“I just-” Again, cutting herself off with a scoff. She wiped her tears as she pulled away from your embrace to scan your face with a soft smile.

“Gosh, I canʼt even remember what I was about to say. Iʼm so happy to see you and i'm a bumbling idiot and-”

“Iʼm so sorry. I've been trying everything, I swear. I even read that stupid ʻHandbook for the Recently Deceasedʼ from cover to cover many times. Only the strange and unusual could ever see me and I tried to reach for your mom but I couldn't for some reason. Slow down, we have so much to talk about.” You said as a frown tugged at your lips again. If you had a beating heart, it would have ached at Astridʼs tears. All you could find yourself doing was trying to make up for the lost time of not being able to comfort her.

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

A/N: Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed it. Should I continue writing this story? There could be multiple parts to this if you guys do enjoy this! Thank you so much for reading! Reqs and or comments, even questions, are all open on my profile! Thank you again! Also, I'd like to add that I understand that in the movie, ghosts are not permitted to leave their area of death or change their clothes. But, for the sake of this fic, let's pretend!

[theverystrangegirl27]

⋆⭒˚.Be My Once In A Lifetime ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: You're a young actress with a supporting role in Inglorious Basterds. You and co-star Christoph Waltz grow closer under the pretense of practicing a scene together.

Warnings: smut, older man younger woman, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms

"You're kidding, right?”

The camera pans up your bare leg, revealing the tight black dress you'd been hassled into by Quentin and the costume designer.

Quentin paces back and forth in front of you, eyes squinted.

“No! I think this is perfect, maybe shorter heels, though.” He says, gesturing to the costume designer, who comes back with some tasteful kitten heels.

You've known Quentin for most of your life, having worked at the video store together and collaborated on many of your own short films.

It only seemed right for him to cast you in his latest project, though you don't understand why he'd want you, an amateur actress, working alongside legends like Brad Pitt and the talented Christoph Waltz.

The cameraman stops on your face, which you can see in the monitor, and you try to school it into a more pleasant expression but it's hopeless- you've never acted in a scene like this before.

“Quentin, are you sure I'm the right fit for this?” You ask, carefully walking down the short staircase.

He shoots you a look.

“Of course, I wouldn't have cast you if you weren't.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Besides, I think it'll be good for you to branch out and play a little dangerous, if you know what I mean.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as he raises his brows, obviously intending to cheer you up.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping off the stilettos and replacing them with the kitten heels. “Let's do it.”

That's how you end up beneath Christoph Waltz, or rather, Hans Landa.

The camera is zoomed in on both of your faces, Christoph tracing the line of your lips with his eyes as he recites the lines.

“The Basterds must know that I am not a stupid man.” He says, low and condescending. “To send a seductress after me, how infantile.”

Yet his lips draw nearer, his grip on your waist harsh and unforgiving. You look into his eyes, gaze cold as he looks back into yours. You arch, trying to get away, but he holds you tighter.

You gasp as he fingers dig into the dress, sharp blooms of pain growing from the skin there.

“However,” He begins, the corners of his mouth pulling into a horrible smile. “I would be more of an imbecile not to take this angelic little gift that was practically served to me on a silver platter.”

You feel yourself getting wet at the lilt in his voice, how hot his thigh feels pressed between your legs. You want him so bad.

He pulls you in, big hand spanning across your arched back, pressing you to him.

When his lips meet yours, you go a little weak in the knees.

You fight it at first, hands curling into fists against his chest, trying to turn your head away, but you can't fight the desire any longer.

You give in.

“And cut!”

Christoph pulls away, panting. Your chest heaves a little as you shakily pull air into your lungs, looking at the way your hand is still pressed against his chest.

“That was perfect,” Quentin praises, a wide smile taking up his face. “One more take, and I think we've got it.”

He comes up to the both of you, Christoph still holding you, albeit softer.

“Now, Y/N, the struggling was great, but maybe kick your feet out just a little. Really try to get away from this guy, but then, after a few seconds, sink into it like you did just then.” Quentin directs, and you nod, pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

“Christoph, don't be afraid to just-” Quentin makes a quick grabbing motion with his hands. “Latch onto her, really grab her.”

Christoph runs his hand down your back, and you can't tell whether it's intentional or not, but it makes you shiver anyway.

As Quentin walks away, Christoph turns his attention to you.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

You give him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“No, I'm okay.” You say, and he smiles down at you.

“Tough girl,” He says, and you fight the urge to bite your lip. His gaze turns serious, business like. “You can really push back for me, I can handle it.”

You nod, blushing a little at the double meaning his words conjur. Soon enough, Quentin is calling action, and the two of you are back at it.

After the last take, Christoph and you are left on set together while the crew packs up, Quentin looking over the footage a few feet away.

Christoph slicks back his hair, watching you lean against the desk, kicking your shoes off idlily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this evening, Y/N?”

The question is sudden, out of the blue. You look up quickly, and your suprise must show on your face because Christoph begins to explain himself.

“To discuss the scene, if you'd like.” He says, looking a little sheepish. It's so uncharacteristic of him that you don't think twice before saying yes.

“I'd love to.” You say, beaming at him.

The smile he gifts you with makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

That night, you meet at Christoph's hotel room. The suite is huge, yet not overly extravagant. It suits him well, you think, as he lets you in.

“You'll have to forgive me for running a little behind.” He apologizes as he fixes his jacket.

“That's alright.” You tell him, sending him a small smile.

He's wearing a simple black blazer over a white linen shirt, black slacks to match. Christoph is clean-shaven, and his hair is immaculate as always.

It takes everything in you not to drool.

He seems to be thinking the same thing because he's stuck staring at you, lips slightly parted.

“You look lovely.” He breathes.

It takes you by suprise, pink dusting your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, cheeky.

Christoph smiles, lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth.

“You flatter me.” He jokes, moving towards the door.

“This hotel has a wonderful restaurant at ground level, I think you'll enjoy it.”

You do, as a matter of fact. The red wine Christoph order's is delicious, paired with some kind of salmon dish you can't pronounce.

The whole dinner is spent laughing, bantering back and forth, and listening to Christoph’s many stories.

“I really can't remember why I did that particular film,” He's explaining, setting his empty wine glass down. “To tell you the truth, I was probably hard pressed for money at the time.”

He had shed his blazer twenty minutes ago, left in the white linen shirt that looked so, so good on him.

You press the tips of your fingers to your lips, giggling a little. The wine has begun to go to your head, making you feel light and airy.

“Well, we've all made desperate acting decisions.” You joke, your foot accidentally nudging his under the table.

Christoph looks at you, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable glint in his eye.

“Have we?” He asks, raising a brow.

You blush, sitting back in your chair and sipping the last of your wine.

“I mean, I was in these terrible short films during college, I'm sure Quentin can tell you all about them.”

Christoph surprises you by leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Tell me about these short films.” The way he enunciates the last two words makes you shiver a little, and you hope he doesn't notice. “Been in anything I would have seen?”

That startles a laugh from you, and deciding to match his energy, you too lean forward, propping your chin in your hand.

“I hope not.” You say, smiling wide as you look into his eyes.

They're so pretty. Christoph has this warm, comforting aura to him that you can't really explain.

You've seen him in American interviews, how he's often described as cold- his dry wit lost on the likes of Jimmy Fallon and Kimmel- but you can't imagine those people are describing the man currently sitting in front of you.

He laughs.

“Come on, I've told you about that embarrassing German television spot I did. You owe me.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the tablecloth before deciding on a story.

“You want to hear about my very first on-screen kiss?”

You wiggle your brows, watching as Christoph nods.

“I was twenty-two, and it was some student film Quentin had roped me into.” You sigh, thinking back on the film.

It wasn't very good - shakily filmed, poorly acted, and the worst part was the kiss.

You shudder at the thought.

“I don't think this guy had ever even touched a woman, let alone kiss one.” You say, Christoph huffing a laugh as you continue. “I swear to you, he leaned in, misjudged how close my lips were, and licked my chin!”

Christoph laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“God, what a nightmare.” He says, and you feel him gently tap your heeled foot. You furrow your brow, still smiling.

“You know, Y/N, you're an excellent kisser.”

Christoph catches you off guard, and you find yourself a little breathless.

“And you blush so prettily, my God.”

Now you're really looking at him, at the way his eyes are fixed on your parted lips, how his left hand is lying face up and empty on the table.

Is this really happening? You think.

With only a slight bit of hesitance, you reach forward, the tips of your fingers grazing his.

It's all the permission he needs.

Christoph takes your hand in his, turning it so he can trace your palm with his thumb. His hand is warm, strong against your smaller, softer palm.

You bite your lip, looking at him through your lashes.

“You know, when we first met, I felt like a dirty old man.” Christoph says, tone soft yet playful.

“Here's this beautiful woman, half my age, and I get to ravish her for the camera.”

He lifts your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You don't know how many times I've thought about that kiss.”

It's a confession, something that makes your breath hitch and your eyes lock onto his.

“Christoph,” You begin, shocked.

Christoph is looking at you, so sincerely, your heart aches.

“If I'm misreading this, please, tell me now.”

Christoph has been the object of your desire for weeks now, working with him day in and out a specific sort of torture you can't begin to explain.

Of course you want him.

You squeeze his hand.

“Will you take me back to your room?”

Christoph grins, something salacious in it that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

He takes the hand he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Lead the way, liebling.”

*

*

*

Christoph has you up against the hotel room door, your dress pushed up over your thighs as he kisses you deeply.

You've never been with a man who kisses like Christoph does - with complete, sure confidence and finesse. It makes your insides hot and melt-y feeling, leaving you desperate for more.

Your hands clench into his white shirt, desperation filling all of your senses.

You want him so bad.

He pulls away slightly, eyes dark as he looks at the mess he's made of you.

“You'll let me have you, angel?” He asks, and you nod, eyes big as they take in the sight of him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He kisses you once, twice, three times before turning your body from the door, backing you up towards the bed.

“I've wanted to feel you for so long, beautiful girl.”

You pull the straps of your dress down, nipples hard in the cool air.

His eyes are immediately drawn to them, thumbs coming up to stoke at your nipples, the pads of them warm against your skin.

“Christoph,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him again, one hand coming to tangle in his hair.

When you break for air, you move to slide your dress down your body, leaving in the black panties you had picked out for this occasion.

Christoph runs his hands down your body, eyes piercing as they take you in.

“God help me,” He mutters before leaning in, pressing you into the expensive hotel sheets.

You gasp, your naked back hitting the mattress with a surprising amount of force. You look up through your lashes at Christoph, who is leaning above you, undoing his belt hastily. You smirk, your hands sliding up his thighs and helping him with his fly.

“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, breathless.

Christoph swallows, his movement's slowing as he looks down at you.

“Liebling, fucking is for insolent, foolish boys.” He finally gets his pants down, boxers following soon after. Christoph leans down, and you think he's going to kiss you, but instead his lips find your ear.

“I'm going to make love to you, and believe me, you'll be thinking of me for weeks to come after I'm through with you.”

You feel yourself getting wet at his words, the promise of his dick finally getting inside of you, making you easy for it. Your legs fall open, Christoph making a home between them.

His face finds your neck, planting sweet, wet kisses to the skin there.

You want him inside you so badly, and you tell him as much, back arching when his fingers find your cunt.

“So soft, my beautiful girl,” He mutters, breathless as he rubs at your clit.

You close your eyes, hands scrabbling at his back.

“I want you, Christoph, please,” you beg, shameless.

He kisses you, silencing you. You get lost in the feeling of his hand on you, his lips devouring every moan and gasp he draws from you.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs faster and faster on your clit.

“Oh my God-” You manage to gasp out, thighs clenching around his arm as you come.

Christoph works you through it relentlessly.

“There she is, that's my good girl. That's it.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours.

You whine, arching away from his fingers as the stimulation becomes too much.

“Please fuck me, please Christoph.”

He smiles, eyes meeting yours.

“I love the way you say my name.”

The two of you maintain eye contact as he enters you, agonizingly slow. You watch the way his breath catches, how his eyes flutter shut when his hips meet yours. That overwhelming, satisfying fullness makes you moan softly, hands gripping him close.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, all sorts of feelings bubbling up in you.

He rocks forward, hips meeting yours lovingly as he carves a home for himself in You.

Your eyes fall shut, head tilting back, and he sucks wet, lust filled kisses onto your neck.

The pace quickens, the headboard hitting the wall as you both grow frantic.

“You're going to come for me again, my angel, my pretty girl,” He pants, a hand coming up to brush your sweaty hair from your face. His palm is warm, and you tilt your head to kiss it.

“Yes,” your breath, hot, bubbling pleasure threatening to spill over you. “Make me come, please, please, Christoph-"

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your legs around his back, wanting to keep him close, and the pleasure builds higher, higher, then-

“Fuck!”

You throw your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape as your second orgasm of the night overtakes you.

“Jesus, ich sterbe,” He groans, low and heady as he pumps you full of his come.

Christoph's hips stutter as your walls flutter around him, beckoning him further.

You hold him close to you as he rides out his orgasm, kissing his forehead.

Sighing and spent, he rests on top of you. You run your fingers through his hair, legs shaking as they unwrap from around his waist.

“Stay with me?” He asks quietly.

You put a hand under his chin, lifting it so your eye level.

You kiss him gently.

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress."  As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week.  Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit.  Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Character Flaws vs Writing Flaws:

While catching up on some of the stuff people have commented/sent to me, I noticed someone mention how Katsuki being a bully is a flaw of his and that not every character needs to be a good person.

First of all, when did I ever say that a character has to be morally correct to be a good character? Some of my favorite characters are villains who’ve done worse things than Katsuki.

So what’s the difference between them and Katsuki?

Well, the villains have a reason for existing. Joker is meant to serve as a parallel to Batman, challenging his morals while also showing what an unhinged Batman could look like.

On a much lesser scale, despite his extremely limited screen time, Moonfish’s bloodlust, lack of sanity, and cannibalism serve two purposes in MHA: to showcase Fumikage’s power and to give the readers an example of what the heroes of this world have to deal with.

Katsuki’s flaws are meant to show the flaws of a world that values raw power over morals, but he fails at this. The reason why? His flaws are never allowed to be flaws.

Katsuki’s aggressive and hostile nature should have him struggling to make friends, yet he has the two pillars of 1-A, that being Ejiro and Denkias described by Hori, immediately befriend him with no issues. His inability to empathize with others should have people wanting to steer away from him, but his instead 1-A loves him, Eri loves him despite being the last person who would, and anyone who doesn’t love him is seen as being in the wrong.

Katsuki is meant to be a big fish in a little pond, someone whose ego isn’t challenged until a certain point, and the Battle Trials were meant to show this. While yes, Katsuki has a mini-breakdown over the fact that he’s no longer in a class of people with weaker quirks, he has no issue claiming a spot as a Top Dog and he still continues to demean the people around him.

Katsuki’s aggressiveness is meant to be both a flaw and an asset. His aggressive nature is what motivates him to defeat the villain, but it’s supposed to cause him to have a one track mind when it comes to hero work. Rescue, teamwork, all of that is ignored by him to fight the big bad. His ego caused everyone to have a tougher time during the USJ, but is that ever touched upon? Nope. It’s just ignored. When Katsuki saved Kyouka, there was no buildup to it. It just happens. We never see him struggle with teamwork because everyone else follows him like a lost puppy.

Meanwhile, Izuku is meant to be Katsuki’s parallel in this department. He’s meant to showcase why too much selflessness isn’t good while also showing that a hero is more than just their raw power. Problem is, Izuku gets completely shat on no matter what he does. He goes after a villain to protect U.A? Gets criticized. Does his best to work with Katsuki? Gets blamed despite it solely being an issue on Katsuki’s end. Does everything perfectly? Nope, still not enough. Compared to Izuku, who always seems to be in the wrong, Katsuki’s placed as this paragon of heroic virtues despite the fact both characters are supposed to be two halves of a whole. They’re supposed to learn from one another. Problem is, Katsuki’s flaws are always ignored while Izuku’s positive traits are demeaned.

Finally, Katsuki being a bully is supposed to serve as a starting point for his character. He’s meant to grow and develop as a human being. Again, he doesn’t, or at least he doesn’t do so in an organic way. He never suffers consequences for his behavior, he’s constantly propped up and coddled instead of criticized, and he’s given some heroic moments despite there being no buildup to them. In the span of a month he goes from nearly killing Izuku to risking his life for him. Where the hell did that come from? Honestly, I wouldn’t care if Katsuki being a bully is his sole purpose for existing, but he’s meant to be more than that. This is supposed to be a well developed and fully fleshed out character who grows from his selfishness and is meant to show that anyone can be a hero, no matter their starting point. But when the development is crap and he hardly changes outside of some OOC moments, then his flaws cease to be flaws that he’s meant to overcome. Instead MHA treats it as him being quirky and misunderstood.

In conclusion, you just can’t present something as a character flaw and expect it to serve as an excuse as to why a character exhibits said flaw. You have to think of the following: what purpose does this flaw serve? Is it meant to be used to teach a lesson? Does it set something in motion, whether it be the development of this character, another character, or does the flaw cause the character’s downfall? The only thing Katsuki’s flaws does right is that they set up Izuku’s story, which again would be fine if that’s Katsuki’s purpose, but it’s not. Him being a bully isn’t something that he overcomes in a natural way. His redemption story is the equivalent of filling things out of a checklist without being fleshed out. Every time he screws up, it’s never treated as a screw-up. Oh he failed the hero license exam? Well so did Shoto so he’s not unique there, and the proctors still suck his dick even while he’s “failing”. Him being the reason for 13’s injuries? Never brought up.

Katsuki’s flaws don’t piss me off because they are flaws, but because the writing of his character IS so deeply flawed despite being a centralized character in the story.

Oh, and as always, someone can dislike a character for whatever reason they might have. If people don’t like Katsuki because he’s a bully, then they have every right to. What I wrote is a response as to why I think Katsuki’s a shit character and how it’s not because of his flaws themselves, but how Hori goes about writing these flaws.

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

♤ a tragedy ♤

It’s not clear to anyone but you when Aventurine is exhausted. When the tolls of his job weigh upon his shoulders.

You know he tries every day to make his family and the Avgin proud. Even as he refuses to admit it, even as he scoffs and says, “Don’t be ridiculous. I only serve my best interests. Everyone knows that.”

But you know better than that, as his secretary.

You’ve read through his reports as he argues against eradicating governments, argues for aid and deadline elongations for struggling populations. You’ve read his reports where he finds merit in every developing planet, where he calls for harsh punishments for oppressors.

Sometimes, they listen to him. It’s days like those where he has a spring in his step, where his eyes are ever so slightly brighter.

Sometimes, they don’t listen to him. It’s on these days that nothing changes, at least to everybody else. He’s cold and sarcastic as ever, strange and manipulative as ever. But alone in his office he sends for two bottles more than usual, stays late alone in his office for longer than necessary. He goes home a little more drunk than he should, and when he talks his tone is somber and manic and hopeless as he speaks of meaningless regrets and troubled pasts.

As his secretary, you’re usually the only one who sees him when he’s alone in his office. Sure, it’s annoying when Aventurine gets into one of his states. But it betrays how big of a heart he truly has, how much he actually cares. So you smile in secret, and over time your heart grows fonder. You start doing things for him before he asks, like preparing his morning coffee, and you can tell he’s noticing, because now he’s berating you for “working too hard.”

“Says the man who works overtime even when he doesn’t have to,” you say, measuring out lumps of sugar.

He doesn’t have to tell you his reasons for that are different, and yet, all the same, done out of passion. You know he buries himself in work to escape, and simultaneously to feel like he’s making a difference, as though the death of his kind is all his fault and he’s slowly chipping away at an insurmountable debt. You know he won’t listen to you if you tell him it isn’t his fault. He has no care for himself, his own life and body are poker chips he gambles all the time in the name of his family and his kind. But how is it possible that a man who cares so little for himself dresses so extravagantly, makes sure all his suits are spic and span, gives himself all the luxuries?

Simple. It’s akin to the way a show horse is all groomed and dressed up so it’s sold for a high price.

“What are you thinking about?”

You look up as you pass the coffee cup across his desk towards him.

“Oh, nothing. Just…a tragedy.”

divider by @cafekitsune

[kays-catch-of-the-day]

Good morning yall! Hope you're ready for a new fish today cuz we got an all timer here today!

Today's fish is none other than my personal favorite fish, the Brook Trout (salvelinus fontinalis)! These beauties are native to Eastern North America, in both Canada and the United States, ranging from Lake Superior, to the coastal waterways from the Hudson Bay to Long Island, though they have spread far beyond their native ranges, mostly via aquacultural practices and artificial propagation, making them invasive species in many regions of North America and the world at large!

Two ecological forms of Brook Trout have been recognized by the US Forest Service, the longer-living potamodromous (fish whose migration occurs fully within fresh water) population, known as coasters , and the anadromous (fish whose migration occurs from fresh water to salt water) population, known as salters. Adult coasters typically reach lengths over 2 feet in length and weigh up to 15lbs, compared to adult salters, which average between 6 to 15 inches and about 5lbs. They're characterized by their vibrant coloration, with olive green bodies and spectacular yellow and blue rimmed red spots, white and black trimming along their orange fins, and dense, irregular lines along the top of their bodies. Often, the bellies of male Brook Trout becomes bright red or orange when spawning.

During the spawning season, female Brook Trout will construct a depression in the stream bed, referred to as a "redd", where groundwater percolates upward through the gravel. Male Brook Trout will approach the female, fertilizing the eggs. The eggs are only slightly denser than water, and can easily be swept away by the current. To avoid this, the female will bury the eggs in a small gravel mound, from which they hatch 4 to 6 weeks later. During this incubation period, the eggs receive oxygen from the streamwater that passes through the gravel beds and into their gelatinous shells. Once they hatch into small fry fish that retain their yolk sack for nutrients, which compensates for the lack of nutrients provided by the parents during the early stages of development. Following the consumption of the yolk, the fry Brook Trout will shelter from predatory species in rocky crevices and inlets, growing from fry to fingerlings, until reaching full maturation at the ripe old age of 6 months.

Despite their native range spanning across low-elevation lakes and watersheds, Brook Trout are increasingly confined to higher elevations in the Appalachian Mountains, especially in southern regions of Appalachia. Over seas, however, Brook Trout have thrived in introduced populations in much of Europe, Argentina, and New Zealand since as early as the 1850's! Their typical habitats include large and small lakes, rivers, creeks, and spring ponds in cold temperate climates. They thrive in clear spring water with moderate flow rates and healthy vegetation populations and other resources which provide natural hiding places. Although they are more resilient and adaptable to varying environmental changes, such as pH levels and temperatures, Brook Trout struggle in temperatures warmer than 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Their diets include aquatic insects at all stages of life, adult terrestrial insects such as grasshoppers and crickets, crustaceans and frogs, molluscs, invertebrates, smaller fish, and even small aquatic mammals such as voles, and even other young Brook Trout! This highly indiscriminate diet and environmental resiliency allows for their success across the globe.

Given all of this, Brook Trout are classified as a Secure by NatureServe's conservation metrics, but that label may be misleading; these incredible fish face severe and repeated extirpation (localized extinction) in many of their native habitats due to habitat destruction, pollution, damming, and invasive species. Meanwhile, Brook Trout present the danger of extirpation to other fish in their nonnative habitats, indicating that efforts must be taken to curb these populations. In short, there are more than enough Brook Trout, but they simply are not where they are meant to be.

A true fish out of (the specifically correct body of) water, the Brook Trout scores within the top percentile of all fishies on our highly advanced fish ranking scale.

[no-nameno-face]

Auburn Thoughts (Pt.5) WITH AUDIO

[READ STORY FIRST]

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Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary:  With a hot shower, Ellie makes sure you feel better. Much, much better.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, Fingering (R!receiving), Choking (R!receiving), Praise, Commanding, Shower Sex

Author's Notes: basically just smut lmfao, sorry it took me so long to get part 5 out. I've been going through a lot of shit in my personal life so i wasn't able to write at all. Def in a depression but its okay lmfao. I kinda hate my writing in this but i wanted to push myself to start again, so this is me trying to get back into it. i think im gonna write a one-off next cause i really want to make an audio with ellie having a degradation kink... what do we think? anywhoooo... Thanks for being understanding. Love you guys <3 

PART 4

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 “Do you wanna hop in the shower?” she smiles before standing and walking towards my bathroom… turning to me when she reaches the door and tilting her head at me, playfully.

“Are you coming?”

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My body is on autopilot, hopping up and walking towards Ellie waiting in the doorway. My brain, on the other hand, is stuck on the idea of seeing her, exposed and drenched. Watching her body move through the water, seeing every part of her. My heart thuds in my chest.

Steam hits my face as I reach the bathroom door, slightly ajar. I take a deep breath and with shaky hands make my way into the bathroom. 

My shower is blurred with steam, I see her silhouette through the foggy glass. My eyes trace her contours. They follow the lines of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips to the toned muscles of her arms visible even through the vapor. I want to engrave this image in my sketchbook forever, in my mind forever. 

I turn and begin peeling off my shirt, then my pants. The pulsing in my ears is deafening, the tightness in my belly growing. As my clothes fall to the floor I look back to the shower, I see Ellies head snap away when I do. I flush at this. 

Steadying myself, I walk to the sliding door and let myself in. Ellies under the hot water facing away from me, It's hard to peel my eyes from her. I hungrily observe her shoulders, strong and muscular, leading to her petite waist then the swell of her hips and, oh jesus. Her ass. I choke on my own spit and start coughing, real fucking smooth.

“You okay?” She turns to me smirking, my arms shoot to cover my chest. How is she so brazen, confident? I mean shit with a body like that I would be too. My eyes dart to her newly exposed skin, her small perky tits that sit perfectly on her frame. Then they quickly shift down her stomach to her… “Take a picture, it will last longer” she says with a sideways smile. My eyes shoot up to meet hers. Then it's her turn to explore me, I feel her gaze burn my skin and my cheeks burn in response. Her eyes leave me, turning back to put her face under the water. The heat in me is searing now. 

“Your turn,” she says with a smile shifting so I could take her place under the hot water. I shift past her, feeling her nipples graze my back and my ass slide across her exposed skin. It takes every ounce of self control to not gasp at this small contact. The water hits me and it's warm, embracing. I relish in the feeling of it, pulling my hair over my shoulder letting it swell with water. Then I feel hands on my back, I startle at this.

“Woah woah, so jumpy.” she says with a smile in her voice. I turn slightly and see her with soap bubbles on her hands, “is this okay?” she asks.

“Shit sorry, yeah it's fine. Thanks El’s,” I turn back to the water, staring past the wall as her strong hands span my back. They shift down so slowly, she's paying attention to every part of my skin. As they approach my lower back she begins to circle over and around my hip bones, hands resting on my stomach. I wonder if she could feel the inferno I was radiating. Her hands went up my abbs circling the bubbles over my skin, now tracing under my boobs. I feel her body gently press against mine, I sharply inhale at the feeling of her skin flush with my own. 

“Can I?” she whispers into my neck, her breath and gentle touch sending chills down my spine. 

“Yes,” I sigh, barely audible. Then her hands, and the suds, are massaging my tits. My head tilts back onto her shoulder and I close my eyes as a small sound escapes my lips. She chuckles lightly at this. 

“You're so easy to please,” her finger flips over my nipple and I jolt slightly at this. A curse spills from under my now heavy breathing. After a moment of her playing with me she firmly turns me so I am pressed against the wall of the shower. It's cold against my back, the sudden sensation is shocking. Thrilling. I look up at her through my lashes, lust radiating in my eyes. They are met with devious amusement. 

Pinning me with one arm she traces the other hand across my collar, then down my sternum. She watches her hand make art on my skin.  I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling of her fingers on me, gentle as a butterfly wing. Her fingers trace down and circle my navel, then lower. My eyes open, nervous and they are met with green. Begging for permission. I smile at her shyly and shift slightly making myself a bit more open for her taking. A silent yes. 

She bites at her lip, her gaze darkens slightly and suddenly she's there, her fingers sliding through my slick, feeling me. My eyes shoot close at this unfamiliar contact. They run through my folds slowly then back to the top hitting my clit softly, I gasp at this. My hands grab at her, any part of her I can grab. 

[START OF AUDIO]

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” she questions, I can hear the smirk on her tongue. She circles my clit with her fingers and my responding sounds are her answer.

“You’re so Innocent…” she sighs. Then slowly begins tracing back down my folds, my eyes open at the change in sensation searching for her, I'm met with darkness. 

“Makes me want to wreck you.” suddenly her finger is pushing into me, i feel my walls tight around her. She pulls it out slightly and thrusts it back into me, firmly. 

“F.. fuck! Oh my… Oh…” she's going in and out now, curving her finger into me, it's a feeling I've never known but one I never want to stop. The sounds are graphic, I feel myself soaking her knuckles as she lays into me. 

“Does that feel good?” She asks knowing full well it does. She just wants to hear me say it. I can't get the words out. Her finger withdraws from me and she crooks her head, demanding a response.

“Yes! Yes it feels.. Feels so.. So good..” I say begging her to continue. I look at her with big eyes. “Please, please keep going.” she smiles at me, so ready for her taking. So eager for more. This time there's a soft stretch as she pushes two fingers into me, hitting my spongy spot sending moans from my mouth into the acoustics of the shower, they echo off the walls. She moves them at a slow firm pace. Harder. Deeper. My hips subconsciously rock into her hand, helping her reach further into me. 

“You're doing amazing,” she smirks before her lips dip into my neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin. My hands tangle in her hair, pulling lightly as they fumble through her locks. “Taking my fingers so well.” she whispers against my skin, her hot breath branding my skin. Her lips return with a gentle kiss, then a soft bite. 

“Mmm… El’s” I say pulling her closer into me.

“Do you want me to go faster?” she pulls back and looks at me, one eyebrow raised. My eyes are wide watching hers, 

“Yes,” I plea. Her eyes don't leave mine as her fingers pick up in tempo, my slick sounds now louder than the shower water hitting the floor. Her gaze is drunk with lust, pleased with the power she has over my body. I feel myself quake against her fingers, she feels it too.

“You like that?” she says, her free hand skimming up my torso, running over my erect nipples until her hand rests on the throat. She squeezes lightly, pushing my head back into the shower wall. Hot water trickles down my face, the pressure making me a bit lightheaded, I feel my eyes roll back. 

“Yeah you do,” she sighs, tilting her head in amusement. Her assault on my cunt is ruthless, the rhythm, unbearable. My vision is turning blurry, with the stunted airflow. It's pure euphoria, but suddenly her grip on the throat loosens.

My hands shoot to her arm and pull her hand back to its place. Firmer than before, long fingers wrapped around the span of my throat. She huffs at this. 

“You want more?” her fingers tighten, cutting off all air flow. 

“Greedy girl.” her fingers swirl inside of me, my eyes open and everything is blurry and tinged white. My body is trying to gasp for air to no avail, and it feels so.. so.. good. My head is getting lighter, lighter, all I feel is her fingers, my ears ringing. Her hand releases and I take in a gulp of air. She grabs my jaw firmly.

“Say my name.” she commands. I am still gasping as her face slowly comes back into focus. Her fingers slam into me, hard. “Say it.” This time her voice is soft, this time it's her begging. 

“Ellie!” I yell, “ellie.. ellie..” my voice gets softer as the pressure builds in my core. I feel like I'm going to implode. 

“That's right,” she pushes her palm into my clit applying rhythmic pressure that creates a symphony with the beat of her fingers. I can't hold it anymore. 

“Ellie… P.. Please.. I'm gonna. I'm gonna..” 

“Yeah? You're gonna cum?” devious eyes. My body is clinging to the edge. “Go ahead baby,” she grabs my throat again and pounds into me. 

“Cum for me” I explode around her, cursing through the high that overtakes me. Her fingers somehow hit my spot harder, faster, intensifying the sensation. Pleasure surges through me and leaves me shuddering in its wake, my knees shaking. She slows when I relax around her and slowly, so slowly, pulls her fingers out of me. I shiver at the sensitivity. 

[END OF AUDIO]

She softly pecks up my neck, to my lips. Pulling back to look at me she brushes a damp piece of hair from my face behind my ear. “You're so pretty when you cum,” she smiles at me, holding back a laugh. 

“Fuck off,” I playfully push her shoulder, embarrassed by my show of desperation. Her laugh escapes and its music to my ears. 

“I'm just saying,” she says smirking, “It's hot.” she shrugs, turning to splash some water on her face. I cross my arms to cover my chest, oh my god. Thinking about her fingers, the feeling of them stretching me out. Her breath on my skin, her hand around my throat. “I'm gonna dry off, meet you out there” she says winking at me before climbing out of the shower and grabbing a towel off of the hook. I watch the silhouette of her leave and I melt to the floor. 

The water cascades down my shoulders and back, my skin is so sensitive. What the fuck. What is she doing to me? My heart is pounding in my chest, and somewhere else. I like her. I like her too much. What does she think this is? Am I just a easy fuck? Is she just an easy fuck? That thought is gone as quickly as it arrives. She's more than that to me. I feel it. And it scares me. What am I to her? I raise my head letting the water coat my face. It's not that deep, I reassure myself. It's fine. I'm fine. She's fine. We are fine. 

We?

Fuck.

[skimmingmilk]

If Sonic and Tails were to ever have a fight, one that would cause some distance spanning a few months or years, what would they have fought about?

See, I don't think they would.

Personally, the way I interpret these characters, there is nothing either of them could do to the other that would cause them to have a bad enough fight where they would become that distant from each other. But that's just me. I don't enjoy that kind of dynamic between them.

Sonic is quick-tempered, but he's also quick to forgive. If he can forgive his rivals who have literally tried to kill him or seriously maim/injure him, there's nothing Tails could do that would prevent Sonic from forgiving him. If Tails pisses him off, Sonic will run it off. He'll cool down with some fresh air, regroup, then probably just turn back up as if nothing happened. And if he was the one in the wrong, then he's gonna find some way to make it up to Tails. Even if Tails murdered someone, Sonic is helping him hide the body, like are you kidding me? He will live a life on the run with this kid, he doesn't care. If someone pushed his best buddy to murder, they probably had it coming to them.

Tails might be the one more likely to hold a grudge, but he's also well-aware of how much Sonic cares. Sonic wouldn't hurt him intentionally of his own volition, he knows that for a fact. Once he had some time to process his emotions and calm down, he'd be able to see that either A) it was unintentional on Sonic's part, or B) it wasn't Sonic at his most genuine either through an imposter/mind control/tactic to keep Tails safe.

Whatever the reason for making the other mad or instigating a fight, they'll only need a little bit of time and space before trying to resolve it. They don't like to fight. They don't like to hurt each other. They'll make playful jabs and tease a little and exchange quips because they both think that's fun, but they care about each other far too much to let a fight/disagreement push them apart for longer than a couple of days. I mean, unless something physically separated them and kept them from reuniting to resolve said fight, but that's outside of their control and I'm sure they'd already have forgiven each other before they see each other again.

Now, that being said, I do think they're capable of being distant for a long period of time, but not because of a fight. Like, take Frontiers for example. Tails said he wants to go out on his own to become more independent and to prove that he doesn't have to rely on Sonic for anything. Even if Sonic doesn't fully agree with his reasons or methods (which, there isn't really canon evidence for that, that's mostly my own headcanon talking because I can't imagine Sonic would want his best friend to come back an entirely different person), he's not going to interfere with Tails's free will to choose his own path in life. If Tails wants to cut off communication to help himself grow, then Sonic will respect that and be there for him when he's ready to come back home. Even if that takes a few weeks... or months...

But yeah, I'm sorry, I'm not the best writer to go to for Sonic and Tails having like friendship-ending level fights. They're the unbreakable bond for a reason, they have complete faith and trust in each other. So I can't see it happening in a believable way for me personally, but I'm sure there are others out there who would have way better insight or interest in something like this! It's just not my cup of tea. In my eyes, if they're gonna fight, they're also gonna resolve it pretty quick.

Thanks for the ask!

[kvroomi]

May i request megumi headcanons or drabble about him having a pet shop? Have a nice day

in good company

author note: I DIDNT REALISE I HAD THIS SITTING IN MY INBOX IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET AROUND TO!! this started becoming a little too self indulgent but i hope you enjoy it anyways! :)

☆ pairing: petshopowner! megumi x fem!customer! reader

☆ word count: ~1.6k (got carried away,, whoops!)

Megumi believes he's lost 10 years of his life span since beginning this shift.

The entire place is bustling; voices are overlapping and the faint music he plays every morning over the speakers can no longer be heard as more customers pile in. Suffering from the worst migraine, Megumi thinks he can feel himself begin to grow two heads as he tries to simultaneously watch over the two young children playing around with the newly rescued cat and the old lady who’s poking her finger inside the cage of parrots. He notices her scolding them for being too loud and he lets out a deep sigh as she grows even angrier when they spit her complaints back verbatim, mockingly.

The "NO YELLING" sign attached to the cage that’s only inches from the old woman's face (who ironically is currently yelling), is written in glaring red marker. It stares back at him and for a second he thinks that if it grew a face and some arms, it'd start pointing and laughing at him. The boy’s hand drags down his face as he groans at the thought.

To anyone else, they'd think the sign was written to warn the customers not to disturb the birds. But Megumi knows he wrote it for the parrots, sternly telling them to "keep it down," as he taped the sign onto the cage.

He knows they can't read and deep down he knows they don't even understand half of what he mutters to them—but if parrots could talk and respond to even just some of his conversation, then what was stopping them from learning how to read and comprehend a single set of instructions?

He walks over to the old woman, placing a warm hand on her back and guiding her away from the squawking parrots. Once her back is turned, Megumi sends them all a dirty look: a silent message that says he'll be giving them a lecture once everyone is gone.

Bringing her up to the counter and rambling about how “the birds have been in a mood today”, he offers her a 10% discount for pet food with her next visit. She laughs as he hands her the coupon and tells him “[she'd] love to have a sweet boy like him, come over to cat-sit for [her] while [she's] away”.

Megumi smiles and tells her she's welcome to come by any time and help him schedule it, all whilst ushering her out of the store. He desperately needs one less customer to worry about.

As he shuts the door, waving goodbye to her from afar, he mentally curses out Yuuji for calling in sick at the last minute. He'll have to stop by and bring him some soup to make sure he's alive.

The thought of food reminds Megumi that the animals must be hungry. Glancing up at the time, the boy takes note of his lunch break in the next 10 minutes.

He walks around the store, informing everyone that the shop will be closing soon for the next half hour.

The place is filled with warm and friendly smiles; gentle biddings of farewell fill the air. Despite the comforting atmosphere, Megumi has to hold back from grimacing through each entire interaction from how awfully his feet ache.

Thankfully and slowly, he watches as people collect their belongings. He listens patiently for the ring of the bell above the door.

There are still a handful of customers wandering around and collecting last-minute items so he watches from the counter—waiting. Shaking out his arms, he moves to crane his neck over on either side, pausing once he feels the familiar popping sensation of his muscles relaxing.

It’s sudden, and his stretching is halted when he notices. His arms have stopped high in the air. His heart plunges and it’s an immediate swell of anxiety that consumes him.

2 ferrets: Rose and Violet–both of whom are starkly distinct in colour when in comparison to their third companion who is banded with brown fur accompanying their own completely white appearance.

This also happens to be the same third companion missing from the cage. The black-haired boy winces and a deep line forms across his eyebrows—his face hauled into a tight scowl.

Always trust Lily to be wandering off on her own in the worst circumstances.

After spending the entire morning brisk on his feet and repeating the same "how to care for your new pet" conversation over and over again, Megumi was starting to think that closing the shop a couple of hours early and dealing with getting into trouble would be worth it.

How many more times will he have to clarify that, “No, these fish can not survive in a fishbowl,” or that “No, you will not find any pets here that don’t require any effort.” The three hours of sleep he had been functioning off of was ultimately starting to deplete and now on top of everything, he had an escape-artist-ferret he needed to locate.

Oh, the pleasures of working in a pet shop.

Imagine his surprise when he's hauled from his thoughts by the hasty clatter of cans and a foreign shriek, rushing over to the pet food aisle to discover you—frozen in place with Lily attached to the bottom of your pants, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

All prior apprehensions about whether or not Megumi was going to make it out of the shift alive had instantly vanished, and he found himself standing clueless in the middle of the aisle. He’s uncertain of how to approach you because ‘holy shit’, you were just so pretty.

Had you been in the shop the entire time?

All you planned to do today was drop by your local pet store and pick up a couple of packs of treats for your cat Winston. What you didn’t plan to do, was get jumped by a brown and white ferret that flew straight for your face while reaching for a can of cat food.

A soft “ahem” entices you to turn around.

It's brief, but you lock eyes with his own and Megumi swears he can feel his legs buckle from underneath him. He reminds himself that he’s probably just exhausted, shoving down any other ideas that it could be because of you.

“I’m so sorry about her.”

He’s the first to speak, and though his voice may have cracked mid-sentence and he can feel how coarse his throat is getting from the nerves—Megumi hopes that the gentle smile he offers is enough to distract you from it.

And it is, because currently all your thoughts are occupied with how you believe his smile alone could heal every bad day you’ve ever had in this lifetime. You want to tattoo the inside of your eyelids with a picture of his smile, just so you could see it even with your eyes closed and in your dreams. But you couldn’t possibly say that to him, so you settle for the next best line of dialogue.

“I didn’t realise I was a hit with the ferrets.”

Your comment makes Megumi laugh, and he thinks it’s his first, honest laugh since he started work this morning.

“She’s usually quite picky.”

He’s closer now, and your eyes watch as he squats down. His hands are soft and gentle as he attempts to guide Lily off your pants and into his open palms.

Your gaze wanders and you take note of his many rough calluses and lingering scratches that line his fingers, evidence of the hard work and pieces of him that are so beautifully human. Your voice catches in your throat, desperate to uncover the many anecdotes he holds—desperate for your own piece of his humanness. It’s the second time that you are forced to say something else on your mind.

“It seems she’s quite persistent too.”

Megumi lets his eyes trail upwards with a soft chuckle as the small ferret climbs up your leg and then your back, choosing to nestle herself in the deep crevice of the side of your neck. Even though you know Megumi is probably more concentrated on the ferret than what you looked like in the current second, you can’t help the anxious thoughts that run rapidly though your head when you notice his vision follow along the edges of your face.

Did you put on enough lip balm today? Your lips weren’t dry right now were they?

It took a lot of mental strength to not unconsciously bring your hand up to check your lips. Instead, you chose to purse them tightly to hide the awkward smile developing at Megumi’s next sentence.

“I’d go as far as to say she has good taste.”

And that’s when you can feel your breath stop. The isle feels constricting and hot, and the sudden appearance of sweat in your palms makes your mouth feel dry.

His tall figure is standing back up and moving towards the cans that were knocked over seconds earlier—tender hands aiding them to stand back up. He was avoiding eye contact.

Your silence makes Megumi’s stomach churn uncomfortably and he’s already turning his head around, mouth halfway open and ready to apologise when you let out a louder-than-intended and impulsive “thank you.”

It’s cute how bashful you both are, faces avoiding one another and warm smiles yearning to be exchanged.

It’s you who decides to break the pause in the moment. Though upon realising what you had just said, it almost sends you into a psychosis on the spot.

“I guess her and I have that in common.”

This time, it’s Megumi whose gaze snaps towards yours in an instant, a bright grin decorating his face alongside a soft pink hue that was slowly forming across his cheeks.

He thinks he may have just gained back the 10 years he lost earlier.

AUTHOR NOTE: just a little something to keep you all at bay while i work on ‘right person, wrong address’ enjoy! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

all reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[slytherinshua]

THE NIGHT WHERE IT ENDED

genre. vampire au. angst. little bit of fluff. warnings. guns. vampires fighting against humans. a lot of blood. major character death. kinda half proofread half not. pairing. vampire!hanbin x vampire!reader. ft. vampire!zhanghao, vampire!seungwoo (x1/victon/solo), and vampire!sejeong (ioi/gugudan/solo). wc. 3.7k. request. @blue-jisungs begged me to write pt 2 but i think she's regretting that decision now skjdksd oops. a/n. i'm sorry for this fic okay like srsly i'm sorry 😭😭😭 divider by @/sweetparty.

read part 1 here read part 3 here

“Why are you restless, my love?” Hanbin asked softly as he wrapped his left arm around your shoulder, the fabric of his robe draping over your skin and shielding you from the cool night breeze.

“I think we are making a mistake, Hanbin.” You said quietly. Hanbin could feel the weight of your words despite how vague they were. He tilted his head and focused his crimson eyes on you, attempting to read your thoughts. 

The skill was challenging to use on other vampires. You were neither human nor a recently turned vampire, so your thoughts were safely hidden from most. The connection of your souls made it easier for Hanbin to get in, though. And when he did, gathering a few more pieces of information about what was bothering you, he knew you were probably right. 

“You mean about humans?” His hand slowly rubbed over your arm, a simple tranquillity spell dispersing from his fingertips. This, unlike the mind reading, was something he could do without any effort. He often used it on you when he could, to help calm you in any way. You always noticed when he did, and he knew you appreciated the gesture by the look in your eyes. The same happened now, as he felt your body slowly relax in his hold. 

“They are coming into the age of technology— progressing at a rate faster than we’ve ever seen before. The elders have grown foolish. They have not seen the outside world for themselves in hundreds of years. They still think humans are weak and easy.” You explained the things that Hanbin knew very well. As merely a short thousand years old or a little more, both of you were at the front of missions and leading forces. Being young and able-bodied yet skilled enough to face almost anything, there was little left to improve on.

“Their guns have grown more powerful. So have their bombs. They are no longer scared, weak, foolishly mortal beings who run around with pitchforks and torches. They have weapons causing damage that not even the best of spells could hope to remedy. I’ve explained this all to the elders, but they won’t listen to my suggestions. They don’t believe me.” You said in defeat, faced with an impossible task.

Never before had you seen your fellow vampires die so quickly. Bullets seared through their bodies faster than the wind, and it only took a couple to knock a vampire unconscious. It was only a matter of time before the wounds killed them. The simple truth you were faced with was almost impossible to accept.

Humans were growing stronger than vampires. Despite their weak bodies, their propensity for fear, their stupidity, or their short life-spans. The advantage they had over vampires was constant adaptation and invention. You could barely name a change in the castle in 800 years, but the changes to the human world were endless. And each one was more impressive than the last.

Diseases that had once killed millions were being researched and prevented, a problem of the past for humans. Modern technology in the form of telephones, space travel, and computers aided in all facets of human life. It was simply astonishing how fast the world could change. Vampires simply had no way to keep up, you realized.

“It will take time for them to come around, but they will. When they see for themselves how many we’ve lost— how we are no longer overpowering humans tenfold. They will surely change their course of action then.” Hanbin words soothed your worried heart. You felt foolish for wanting to believe every word that came out of his mouth, but it felt like second nature. You just hoped he was right.

“This is it?” You asked, glancing at Hanbin from across the table to catch his nod. On the marble surface lay a large rifle, one that had single-handedly taken out 3 of your vampires that evening with just 5 bullets. 

It had been several months since your worry had started, and you realized now that you had vastly underestimated how quickly humans improved. What once took 10 or more bullets to fatally injure a vampire now decreased to just 1 or 2. If this is what humans could do in just a few months, what more developments could they introduce in 10 years?

“They’ve developed this model for the past couple of months to specifically target our weaknesses. They must have studied one of our men to know that silver bullets would be more deadly than anything else. When aimed at our hearts, it’s very easy to kill a vampire with just 1 shot.” Hanbin said wearily, his expression growing dim like yours.

“For the first time ever, they’re killing us faster than we’re turning them.” You muttered, trying to not let the thought terrify you. It could easily mean the extinction of vampires within a short hundred years.

You turned to the elders who you were consulting about the issue, studying their pale faces. Seungwoo looked stone faced, which you expected. He was one of the few elders who knew about the situation, as he often went out into the human world, disguising himself as one of them. As the most advanced healer among the clan, he had tended to many of the injured fighters in the past months. He was familiar with the damage the weapon could do, and the number of vampires that had been lost to its deadly silver bullets. 

Zhang Hao looked surprised, and maybe even a little bit scared at the news. His eyes were wide, but he kept his face as stoic as possible. He was one of the most powerful vampires concerning spells. His magic was strong and his knowledge was vast. He knew ancient rituals and was able to create entirely new incantations by studying old texts. You respected his opinion on the issue, and was sure he would be able to advise how to train the younger vampires with protective charms.

You skipped past the dozen or so council member elders, and turned finally to Sejeong, watching her face twist in anger. She never failed to lead the vampires expertly, but her temper was a cause of concern for you. She held grudges against the humans more personally than Hao or Seungwoo. She had often been at the front of the battlefield hundreds of years ago, and she had seen no shortage of vampire bloodshed. Under her reign there had been centuries of peace, as she wisely chose to not engage with the humans unless necessary. Now that they were actively seeking out her citizens, though, she wasn’t willing to let it slide. 

You could predict many possible outcomes from this. Sejeong’s ruling might result in peace once again, or in a war that no one would be able to survive. It was your duty to trust and follow her every command, operating on her word to the best of your abilities, but you had never experienced such high risks. You were worried you might not make it out of this battle, or worse, that Hanbin would face death with you.

The 3 elders you had watched expectantly, having been the very 3 to conjoin yours and Hanbin’s souls, were well aware of the risks. Vampire souls were not naturally supposed to meld together, and although you and Hanbin were perfectly matched, your joining still faced consequences. If one of you died, it was likely that the other would not be able to survive alone. Whenever you called to one another through your tattoos, you had to bear the burning sensation that came from using such power. If one of you was in pain, the other experienced it too. There was never a burden that could be held by just one person. You and Hanbin were a pair, and you simply could not be separated. 

It was back in Hanbin’s tower after the meeting that you voiced your concern. After Sejeong decided on facing the problem head on, just as you expected, and it was only a matter of days before you would be sent out to attack.

“I think it would be best if we stuck together at all times. If you get out of my sight, I won’t know if you’re safe.” You said quietly, biting the inside of your cheek in worry. Hanbin walked across the room, joining you on the couch, lacing his hand with yours. 

“I won’t go anywhere without you, even if it means disobeying the elders' orders. We don’t know what could happen to our souls if one of us gets hurt. We’re meant to be together, not apart.” You continued, meeting Hanbin’s crimson eyes with yours. 

He nodded, “Whatever you wish.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“I should close the curtain. The sun is coming up.” You kissed his cheek and stood up to do so. Hanbin’s eyes watched you as you walked across the room and drew the blinds. He leaned back against the sofa, gaze still fixed on you as you shuffled through the bookcase on the wall, picking up a history book about ancient vampire civilizations. He could see the anxiety in your eyes, and he felt a twist in his stomach, mirroring yours.

“Calm down, Y/n. We’ll be alright, no matter what happens.” Hanbin said. He motioned for you to put down the book and come back to his arms. “Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t.” He whispered to you, a comforting smile on his face.

You wondered how he could always be so sure and confident. You were constantly riddled with worries, but, like always, Hanbin assured you, easing your anxiety with his words or his spells. You could feel his magic work on you as he wrapped his arms around you, and you instantly felt at peace.

You stayed in his arms until the sun had fully risen, savouring the quiet moments while you still could. There would be no spare moment to relax once the full moon came. You couldn’t ask for him to keep the calming spell going all day, but for as long as you were in his arms, you allowed yourself to let him take your mind off of everything.

You even managed to fall asleep from how comfortable you were cuddled in his hold. When you woke up and looked up at him, his eyes had fallen shut as well, but you could tell he was only dozing. Beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead from how long he had been casting the spell. Even though it was a fairly easy one that he had mastered centuries ago, keeping it going for hours at a time still took an extreme amount of energy.

You kissed his cheek, watching as his eyes opened slowly. He smiled and wiped his dewy skin, sitting up slowly. You felt the spell wear off as Hanbin relaxed his shoulders, and the thoughts flooding your head came back immediately. A sigh left your lips. You couldn’t ask him to keep it going for any longer. You felt guilty for how long he had been doing it already, knowing just how exhausting it must have been.

“You didn’t have to do that for so long.” You whispered, standing up from his lap and circling around to the back of the couch. You unclasped the outer cloth of his long robe, leaving just the tunic and pants he was wearing. Your hands fell to his neck and shoulders, slowly starting to massage the muscles, working out the knots he had developed. 

His eyes fell shut, a pained whine escaping his lips from the sensation. He was always so focused on taking care of you, he rarely noticed when his own body was suffering. He felt relieved as the pain slowly subsided with the help of one of your healing spells, the touch of your fingers over his bare skin becoming softer.

Your fingers lingered on the side of his neck when you were done, circling the pads of your pointer and middle finger over his pulsepoint, feeling the faint beating of his heart. It was slower in pace than humans, but it was still felt from the touch of your finger. 

The life of vampires relied on magical powers (and a constant supply of blood) over bodily function. In his life as a human, Hanbin’s heart had been the most vital organ to his survival. But now, keeping his body healthy so his powers flowed freely was of equal importance. The two were still intertwined, a constant balance was the key to being a powerful vampire. Poor bodily function translated to weakened power. The fact that you could still hear Hanbin’s heart clearly was a testament to his abilities. It would take an extraordinary force to weaken him to the point of death, and that thought comforted you.

You had seen many conflicts in your lifetime, mostly human wars of which vampires were no part of. But it was an entirely different feeling standing at the front of the battleline in the dead of night, preparing your strongest spells, knowing you were vastly outnumbered by the enemy’s army. 

Hanbin was by your side, his finger still barely grazing your hand, trying to get as much strength from you before the fight started. Fear filled both of your body’s, but a strong determination overpowered it. The risk was immense, but you needed to win. You would come out of it alive, no matter what.

The explosions were deafening, ringing in your ears at ten times the intensity that they sounded to humans. It was dizzying, and you could barely keep track of the spells you were casting. They seemed to be working well enough to defend yourself, as any man who charged at you soon found himself in a pool of his own blood on the grass. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been fighting, or how many more men you could hold off. It felt like they just kept coming. You had never used this much power all at once, but you couldn’t stop even for a second. It couldn’t go on forever, right?

There was no big explosion, nor were any human soldiers in range to hurt you. You weren’t in the line of gunshots. There was no possible way a grenade could have reached you without you noticing it. So why did you suddenly feel such excruciating pain?

Hanbin. Where was Hanbin?

The smoke on the battlefield hindered the humans from seeing, but you were effortlessly able to clear a path. It was easy to find Hanbin— you always came back to him without even thinking. You knew where he was immediately, and your legs carried you to him in an instant. 

His eyes looked scared as they met yours. He was on his knees, surrounded by the men he had taken out, their blood soaked on his skin and clothes. The crimson of his eyes had faded, suggesting his weakening state. You couldn’t tell what blood was his, but you could tell that he was losing it fast. 

“Hanbin— get up. Get up, please.” You grabbed his arm in a panic, pulling him up to his feet and supporting his body on yours as you quickly found a sheltered spot to let him sit.

“What happened? Why are you hurt— you said you wouldn’t get hurt.” You cried, holding a bloody palm to your tattoos, trying to summon a healing spell. Hanbin was barely breathing; struggling to stay conscious for you.

After hours of fighting, your power had grown weak. The pain you experienced, mirroring the injuries on Hanbin’s body, also prevented you from conjuring the spell. You gave up trying to get it from the source, realising that it wouldn’t work in your current state. Instead, you placed your hands on Hanbin’s chest, your fingers touching the ink on his collarbone. You closed your eyes tightly, mustering as much strength as you could to reach his body. His tattoos flickered, wanting to shine brightly from your touch, but unable to summon enough power for it.

He gasped, air flooding his lungs again. His eyes watered from the pain, and he instinctively tried to push your hands away, although he knew that they were what was still keeping him alive. The blood loss was driving his body and mind crazy; the need, the thirst for it, overwhelming. You realized what was going on from just his face, the unmistakable sign of a bloodthirsty vampire flashing in his faint eyes. 

“Take mine.” You said quickly, pushing your garment to the side, exposing your neck to him. 

“N-no, I can’t.” He whispered, terrified at the thought of hurting you.

“Please. You’ll die.” You begged, your voice laced with desperation. Strangely, you had no fear. You didn’t care about how much it would hurt, or if it would drive you bloodthirsty as well. You just needed him to survive.

Due to his weak state, you were able to overpower him. You forced his mouth open in desperation, revealing the sharp fangs on his top row of teeth. He cried, having no strength to stop you. He would rather die than risk causing you harm. 

Hanbin submitted to your wishes, knowing that if he didn’t comply with biting you, you would find a different, more dangerous way to give him your blood. He sunk his fangs weakly into your neck and forced himself to suck. The taste of your blood trickling down his throat instantly curbed the insatiable need for it. You cried out in pain, feeling your strength wither as your blood left you. The sound broke Hanbin’s heart, icy tears falling from his eyes.

The taste of your blood was sweet and warm, but Hanbin refused to enjoy a single drop of it. As soon as he felt a fraction of his strength coming back, he used it to push you off of him. 

You looked back at him and the entire world seemed to disappear. The fight was still ongoing behind you, but no shouts or explosions reached your ears. His eyes slowly gained back their colour, flickering to yours and softening. With tear stains on his cheeks and blood splattered across his face and neck, he reached for you gently, hesitantly. Almost too hesitant to be quite like him. 

“I hurt you.” He said in anguish, his eyes unable to leave the wound on your neck. “Why did you let me hurt you?” He searched your face for an answer, and it stared right back at him. Losing him would be more painful to you than any wound, even if he was the one who gave it to you. He could hurt you, wound you, or even kill you, and you would still give yourself up to him without needing to think.

Vampires always felt cold, but Hanbin’s touch felt exceptionally gelid when it reached your cheek. He looked gaunt, his exhaustion evident even after he had gotten some strength back. You needed to get him to safety, somewhere where skilled healers could tend to him. His eyes looked scared. Not scared of the battle, but scared of himself and what he had done to you.

“You could never hurt me. Just please stay alive.” You whispered, holding his bloodied hand. His eyes still naturally drew back to your neck, shaky breaths leaving him as he processed your words and nodded weakly. 

He bent to kiss you with the energy he had, the action portraying a million thoughts and feelings. You felt him crumble in your arms, his body giving out on him as his lips touched yours. You held him steady, supporting his neck so his head didn’t fall. His eyelids drooped, and with a trembling breath you realized the carmine colour of his eyes was fading again.

“No, no— Hanbin, please.” Your hands fumbled, trying to think of what to do. You simply had no power left to give to him. Your hand slipped to his waist, trying to readjust him into a better position. That’s when you felt the warm liquid on your hand. 

The wound must have been from a bullet, you deduced quickly. No other weapon that humans possessed could have caused him to bleed so much. The bullet had pierced him in merely half a second, lodging itself in his side. It was a wonder how such a small piece of silver could do so much damage to a vampire as powerful as Hanbin. He was dazed, the feeling of you pressing on the wound to try to stop the bleeding the only sensation he could discern.

Shouts grew louder in your ear. Although you had found a hidden space away from the battle, you were still exposed to danger. You stood carefully, pulling Hanbin up with you. Your only hope now was to get him back to safety as quickly as possible. His soul was still clinging to the bit of energy you had given him, but you wouldn’t have much time before it ran out completely. 

He stumbled as he rose to his feet, doing his best to support his own weight. He would have fallen back into your arms if something hadn’t hit him quicker. A small piece of silver, not more than 2 centimetres, seared straight through his chest, and a gasp fell from his lips.

You heard the shot. You felt it too, in the middle of your chest, a scathing pain spreading up your neck. You failed to catch Hanbin in time before he fell. 

It was over. You knew you had failed. Your options were expended and your time running out. Dropping to the ground as well, you clung to his body. With no energy left to fight, much less save him, you accepted the loss. Closing your eyes, you gathered him in your arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead as if you were comforting a small child.

It was a send off, of sorts. A last goodbye, and a testament to your love. He took his final breath, cradled safe in your arms, protected from the world. After all he had given for you, he deserved to rest comfortably. 

As his soul perished, you felt yours fading as well. He was taking you with him, knowing you could never live apart from him. Intertwined in every way, even until death. That was the fate you and him shared.

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[pakhnokh]

How do you manage to make such beautiful comics in short span of time? Its like you don't sleep properly to make them this gorgeous T~T

But I really wanted to ask if A-Yuan ever gonna make his appearance in HOG? I know these two first need to get there mess together but I fear for WY's depressive state. Bunnies and Babies are really good as therapy I believe!

They're so amazing and currently 'House of Gentian' is my Fav. Whenever I open Tumblr I first go to check for your post and it always brings a smile whenever I see new panels update.

Ahhhhh thank you so so much I'm so flattered!

Actually, I make 4 pages at a span of about...you can say one working day. I stretch it to something like 4-5 hours of 3 days and that's it.

Previously, it took me much longer, but I have had a lot of changes in my life recently that made it possible, like, my baby growing older and requiring less, me leaving fandoming and socializing and focusing solely on art making and progress, and self acceptance and peace of mind after a lot of turbulent changes that I went through in this period of 4 years.

I'm simply in a much much better place now, both in my personal life and in my artistic progress, and it all makes an impact. For instance, in arc 2 I was drawing everything with the help of Body Kun references. But in arc 3 I don't do it, I just draw from my mind and I think the outcome is even better than in arc 2.

As for A-Yuan, don't worry, he will make an appearance, but I cannot tell when! hehe....Just wait patiently :)))

I'm so happy you like my comic! Thank you so much for you amazing message <3

Love!