#nothing about whatever ideas i had looking at posts here then not sending to myself

[nerosdayinanime]

auuuhhguh dont let me forget to post some shit about sabifish i dropped the drawing of him months ago (he looks like raw meat... i need to reconsider my color/patterning choices...) and ive been meaning to do it since mermay and its Almost Halloween. speaking of. halloween au. fuck. havent been drawing now ive got a backlog of bullshit i wanna do......

[boydepartment]

so cute - anton lee x reader

a/n: DONT LOOK AT ME RN…. okay i’m having a moment shut up i can’t sleep. this is completely self indulgent and writing for fun so whooooooops

warnings- none just fluff and goofy. idol! anton. photography major! reader. (i am not a photography major so pls um bare w me) THIS IS ALSO REALLY CLICHE SO I AM SORRY i also have no idea what tags to use :( so if you are on riize tumblr PLS HELP ME IN MY INBOX WITH TAGS

wc- 250-300

MASTERLIST

when you sat down after you ordered you got all your stuff organized. you had a plan to meet your friend to study together at a small but sweet boba shop. a lot of college students would come and go and half the fun of studying was procrastinating and choosing to people watch instead.

your friend was late and so you were left to fend for yourself. which was okay, it didn’t bother you. you got a little lost in thought and didn’t even notice the gaggle of boys walk in.

you didn’t even notice when the second cashier called up your order and you skipped over to pick it up. it tasted sweet and made you smile.

the way you set up your table looked really nice so you took a couple steps away from your chair to take a photo, not for class. just for fun.

your notes and laptop looked like those aesthetic posts on pinterest and the view outside the window was not the worst for a parking lot. you looked down at your phone and frowned, maybe the flash would help?

you went to get in position again when a guy totally bumped into you. sending both of you crashing onto the floor!

when you sat up you saw all his friends almost sprint out of the shop laughing, you looked down, eyes widening.

“i’m so sorry! here let me help you up!” you stood up and put your hands out. he was quiet and took your hands. you bent over and picked up his thankful pre-poked boba, nothing spilled thank goodness!

“are you okay?” you asked, handing his drink to him. it was a little hard to tell or read him as he was wearing a mask, there was only so much you could read with his eyes.

your head turned to the side trying to get an answer out of him. eventually he snapped out of whatever daze he was in. did this boy hit his head too hard?

“it was my fault! i was walking backwards while talking and i didn’t see you i’m sorry…” the boy was very soft spoken and it took you by surprise. a lot of people you met in college were a little outspoken.

you smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood, “it’s okay it was an accident!”

“you fell pretty hard on your knees, are you okay?” he asked, noticing that they looked pretty scuffed.

“oh! i’m okay. don’t worry about it.” you went to grab your bag which softened the blow of your fall.

“is your phone okay? if it’s broken i can help pay for the damages…”

that was sweet of him…

you looked at your phone and saw the crack in the screen protector, “it’s a little cracked but it’s just the screen protector! it’s fine! if anyone asks i can tell them about this.” you laughed a little and looked at him again, “my friend’s gonna wish she wasn’t late…!”

you heard the boy laugh a little, “i still feel bad for tripping over you and ruining your photo, can i do anything to make up for it?”

“there’s no need to feel bad!” you said quickly- waving you hands back and forth, “again it’s totally okay. you should probably get back to your friends though… they kinda ran off.”

you saw him look outside the window, scoffing a little, “i’m going to choose to ignore them.”

this made you laugh, it was a total 180 from his voice, it was cute.

“i’m y/n. i figure since we’re having a conversation it’s appropriate to introduce myself, since you’re not just falling over me and dipping.” you stuck your hand out again.

he looked at your hand and shook it, “anton.” his eyes curved which told you he was smiling. cute.

“um… your friend still isn’t here… can i sit with you?”

you nodded, might as well, it wasn’t like you were studying. he happily took a seat next to you.

“you’re in college right?”

you nodded, “mhm! photography major!” you opened a file and scooted your laptop to him. anton looked through your photos almost amazed.

“i’m trying to put together my portfolio right now actually. i’m hoping i’ll get a job soon.” you explained, leaning your head on your palm.

he practically perked up at this, “my friends and i need a photographer for our next show!”

“show?”

“ummmmmmmmmm.” anton scratched his neck, “yes. show. music. yaknow….”

you smiled, “honestly, if it pays well, i’d love to.”

he looked at you and nodded, really enthusiastically. you felt pride bubble in you for someone being so impressed by your work to offer you a job.

“can i get your number to get the details?” you asked, unlocking your phone, he was cute and even if the job didn’t work out, maybe a date would. you could hear his phone buzzing rapidly.

anton nodded again and put his information in, “text me your name n stuff and i’ll answer i promise.” he stood up, “i really need to get back to my friends they’re blowing up my phone… even though they ditched me…”

you laughed again, “no problem. i’ll text you!”

“yeah!” he was walking away from you smiling when he ran into the door awkwardly. almost like the scene of a movie. it was so cute.

he was so cute.

[ilys00ga]

𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 4k

➞ synopsis: buying a pretty vase from an antiques shop can't be that bad of an idea, can it?

➞ genre: fantasy, some angst, bitter sweetness is good for our hearts, fluff, hurt/comfort, cursed ghost!yoongi...

➞ A/N: So, this isn't the fic I talked about before, but I still wanted to post something while I take my time to figure out what the hell I wanted the other fic to be. this is purely inspired by a random prompt I found on a random website, and I wanted to give it a try. I hope u like it <3

ps. PLEASEEEE !!!!!!! do not hesitate to send me ur feedback (comments, asks, reblogs... whatever u want) !!!!!! just give me ur opinions. I'd love to hear it all :,)

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The tips of my fingers meticulously traced the lines and patterns that coated the vase between my hands. A gorgeous ceramic vase that came with an even more gorgeous lid I had come upon at the small antiques store a few hours earlier, which—in my honest, humble opinion—was poorly and deficiently frequented given the amount of goodness it vends.

It was one that I’ve passed by many times on my way to work before, located in an old street busy with other art stores. Each time I’d stopped at it, fascinated by the items I could see through colorless glass, I’d get that strange desire to enter and discover what it had to offer me, but it wasn’t strong enough to pull me inside.

Broken or not, there’s magic hidden in those old items. Stories and emotions traveling from the past all the way to my heart.

Until one day, I decided to surrender to those powerful items and made my way through the front door. It was indeed a dusty magic shop.

I put the vase on the table with extra care and opened the lid, my dog running around somewhere in the other room. A quick look inside the vase, however, had my brows rising.

"Is this.. powder?" I asked myself.

Back in the shop, nothing hinted that the vase contained anything, nor did the owner utter a single word about it. She, in fact, didn't even seem to be that interested in her very few customers, if I were to be honest. The newspaper she was reading throughout all that short period of time I was in there had her eyes fixed on it, for the most part.

I swallowed hard, feeling like my heart had been ripped off my chest and drowned in icy cold water with the thought of getting unknowingly tangled in some illegal activities.

Loud barks, then the crashing of something cut my new overwhelming awareness short, and I sprinted in search of my hyper dog.

"What did you break this time, Holly?" I made quick work of cleaning the mess Holly had made, giving him some treats because he looked so cute nonetheless then returned to what I had decided to call a cursed beauty later on.

Upon entering the room, the sight of a man looking through my limited collection of vinyls with his back facing me made my legs freeze in their place, and my heart almost slipped out of my mouth in another alert panic.

"What the hell?!" my lips shouted before I could even think of finding something to defend myself in the face of that stranger.

The man dropped the disk in his hands and faced me with wide eyes. His startled expression quickly snapped into a kind smile, and he spoke, "Hey, are you the one who opened the urn?"

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!!" my heart was pounding in my ears. I quickly went through the details from the moment I walked into the apartment to that of when I came back to the room, checking if I missed any hints of somebody breaking in or not.

The stranger started walking towards me with an arm stretched out, and I quickly backed away, looking around before grabbing the first hard object I could find within my sight line, "Stay away from me!"

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air, "I'm Yoongi, Min Yoongi, and you just set me free from that damn urn. Thank you, by the way."

The more he talked, the colder my blood was running in my veins and the slippier the object was becoming as I gripped it with sweating hands for dear life. Nothing he said made any sense. All I could do was shout in frustration, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

The patter of paws slapped across the corridor floor, and Holly came running into the living room. The dog started barking when he saw the stranger, but the latter didn’t even flinch. Instead, he sighed, breathing heavily through his nose, and then looked back up at me. But before he could say anything more, I huffed.

"Are you a serial killer?" I wanted to cry. Actually, he looked too pretty to be that coldhearted. I figured that maybe if I cried, he'd feel bad and leave me alone. Or maybe, if I took the chance to launch at him first, right then and there, that'd do something.

I could either die an honorable death, attempting to fighting back, or lay myself bare skinned for my predator, and no one would be a witness outside of the walls of the room that were only getting colder and colder by the ticking seconds.

Well, maybe Holly would, but he’s busy barking, not moving from his place at all.

"Look, I really don't know how you ended up here. I-I don't want to know, yeah? I will even let you go and not speak a single word about this. Just please don't kill me. Yeah? I'd do anything you want, just- please?" I began to plead, sweating like crazy even though the room around felt too icy.

The man didn’t reply, crouching down to lure my dog over. Holly’s small head cocked to the side before slowly moving closer to him. If I weren't busy trying to steady my breathing while simultaneously making sense of whatever was going on in the middle of my living room, I would’ve palmed my face.

"I told you, I'm Yoongi and I'm not a serial killer. This thing you have here, the one you just opened," he explained, nodding towards the open ceramic vase on the table, "I, my soul was trapped in there."

I blinked, a beat or two slipped through my lips, then muttered, “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” he retorted, hands petting the pet on his lap, and added in a softer voice, “I understand how crazy this sounds, but in simpler words, I was trapped inside and once the lid was lifted, which is what you have done, I was able to get out.”

“Oh, so you say once the vase is shut again you’ll go back there, is that it?” I breathed out, picking my words cautiously.

He hummed and nodded, still focused on the dog he was playing with. Taking my chance, I rushed towards the table. With trembling hands, I grabbed the lid and screwed the vase shut.

"No, wait! Don't clo-"

Silence…

The familiar sound of multiple clocks ticking together, hand in hand and almost perfectly at the same time, welcomed me into the antiques shop.

The shop was practically empty. No customers were in sight. My only audience was the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the lamps and the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the tables and the surfaces that displayed everything: from old jewelry to dolls and collectible plates and cups, the sculptures in different shapes and sizes scattered everywhere, the old books, cameras, vases and musical instruments…

They all stared at me and the vase I was holding tightly to my chest.

Walking ahead, I reached the front counter where the same old woman stood reading some newspaper. Despite the clearly audible bell that rang every time the door was swung open, she didn't seem to be recognizing my entrance. I cleared my throat in an attempt to grab her attention, but it fell on blinded ears.

Sighing, I put the vase on the counter with a thud and declared my aimed objective, "I'm here to return this."

"No exchange, no refund." The woman finally, but dryly, replied.

"You have to understand, I can't keep this anymore." I insisted.

"No exchange, no refund!" She repeated in a stern tone, looking up and meeting my eyes.

"Fine," I took a deep, long breath in, "you're the owner, tell me what do I do with it then."

"Its colors go very well with any kind of furniture, but I'd say keep it on a shelf amidst other decorations." The contrast between the way she spoke so friendly and the tight smile she had on her lips poked at my nerves.

"Are you kidding me? I just said I don't want this cursed thing anywhere near me! It has a weird powder in it! and-" I paused, lowering my voice despite the fact that the shop was empty—minus me, its owner and its goods, "some weird ghost appeared out of it!"

The antiquarian silently folded her newspaper, put it on the counter in front of her, and stayed silent for a while, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Use the ashes and break the curse." She mumbled.

"Ashes…? What?"

"You heard me. Break the curse and save the dead." She didn't say anything further, busying herself with the newspaper again, and that was my key to leave.

"Next time, don't sell cursed stuff to innocent people who don't have enough time on their hands." I turned on my heels and stomped out of the shop with the vase between my hands.

Three days later:

“Alright, talk to you later.”

Stepping into the apartment, I hung up the phone and put it on the small coffee table. Holly was curled up on the sofa with his nose tucked under his tail. My body naturally bent down, and I pecked the pup’s head affectionately.

It had been exactly three days since I came back from the small antiques shop, put the vase on the shelf, and never dared to touch it again. Every morning and every night, I’d stared at it and contemplated whether I ought to open it and investigate what the hell was going on or not. The shop owner’s words never left my ears, ‘break the curse and save the soul.’

Three days had passed, and I still hadn’t made my mind up or got to any simple conclusion whatsoever. The thought of having somebody else’s ashes in my house made my stomach twist in ways, yet somehow I couldn't find the courage to empty the urn.

Well, at least it wasn't coke or something of the kind. That thought floated in my head as I lay on my bed the same night I’d come back from the shop.

Stuck in a quandary between the fear of what could be awaiting me and the burden that was unceasingly weighing both my heart and mind, I knew that having a staring contest with that damn container day and night wasn’t going to do me any good.

After yet another fruitless debate between me and my conscious mind, I slowly walked towards the shelf, carefully put my hand over the lid, lifted it up and stared at the powder—the ashes inside.

I waited, nothing happened. Looked around the room, nothing happened.

For a moment, I could feel a scoff bubbling its way up my throat. It was ridiculous, I felt ridiculous for expecting something, for believing that something would happen and that all of that madness was real.

How could a tale about the soul of a cursed, handsome man popping out of an ancient vase be real?

But then again, I recalled the thing the old woman had said to me, as well as that encounter I had with the strange man. Very vividly clear. I remembered it, it happened, it was real.

"You didn't throw it away." A low voice came from behind and made me jolt in surprise.

There he was, the strange man—Yoongi leaning on the doorframe with both of his hands tucked in his pockets.

Part of me was grateful he was there because I didn't have to worry about my mental well-being deteriorating. But the other one shivered, creeped out by his presence, by the whole situation.

"Thank you." Why is he so polite? "I was scared you too would throw me away." Oh?

I lightly shook my head, trying to find the proper words to express myself, and I said, "Listen, I need answers."

“I figured. What is it that you want to know?”

"I-I talked to the person that sold this thing to me, and she said that I need to use these… ashes to break a curse.” Somehow, my brain was more than aware of the fact that the man standing a few steps away from me was most probably not human.

“yeah…?” He mumbled back, “didn’t she say how to do that?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and if his disappointed, broken look surprised me, I tried my best not to make it visibly noticeable.

“What the hell are you exactly?” I asked. I wasn't sure what emotion(s) I was feeling at that very moment exactly. I couldn’t put a name to it to save my life. But I surely didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as my voice made me out to be. I could see his throat work as he gulped, eyes averting from mine to look down at the floor for a moment before looking up again.

"I died a hundred years ago. A witch attempted to kill me, and she did, before casting a curse and trapping me inside that thing over there." he pointed towards the antique vase behind me, then added, "in my ashes. I've been trapped there for years. Some people did stumble upon me when they opened it over the years. Just like you did. But they never gave me one chance to even speak, and they threw it out immediately."

“But why? What did you do to deserve all of this?”

A gloom overcame his eyes, yet his voice was steady and deep as his lips stretched into a smile that only the word ‘sour’ could do its description justice.

"That's what happens when one falls in love with a witch.” He replied, “anyways, that’s all I know. I've been trying to figure out how to break the curse, but being stuck in a jar serves for nothing.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, him standing amidst the echoes of his past and my voice trying to find its way through the strangled words stuck in my throat.

“I’ll help you.” I spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“Really?” His face was so full of hope it sent my heart clenching between my ribs.

“Yeah. This is making me anxious as well, I have no other choice.” I answered, brushing it off with a shrug.

“What brings you back here?” said the antiquarian who was busy polishing some old pocket watches, her glaces hanging low on the tip of her nose.

“I- We need some help.” I answered, and her head snapped up to find me and Yoongi staring back at her at the front counter.

“How could an old antiques shop owner possibly be of any help to you youngsters?” She asked again.

“I assure you that I’m not younger than you.” came a comment from Yoongi.

She stared at him, her relaxed expression turning tense, and then she looked at me again. Instead of providing an answer, I put the open vase in front of her. She gave it a quick look and then looked back into my eyes. “You are one stubborn young woman.”

“I’m not here to return it.” I cut her off to explain myself, “I’m here to know how to break the curse and release his soul.”

“I see you let him walk around freely.”

“Why is that a problem?” I asked with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t a wandering dead be a problem to the living?” Her brows rose just as she gestured with her head towards Yoongi, as if stating the most obvious scientific fact, “anyhow, you want to know what to do next, don’t you?”

I hummed.

“All you need to do is throw the ashes into the ocean, let it dissolve and become one with the salt water. Tomorrow, when the sun sets.”

“Why specifically tomorrow?” I asked.

“Full moon. Or else your efforts will go down the drain. Do not let that happen” She emphasized on the last part through gritted teeth.

“How do you know so much?” Yoongi was the one to ask.

“I am nothing but a mere shop owner. Buying old stuff and selling them, that’s what I do.”

“You must be a special kind, then.” He bantered.

She shrugged and replied, “I study my products. We’re talking about items that date back to hundreds of years ago.”

She handed me a small pouch bag and told me to put the ashes in there, saying that it would be easier than carrying an open urn around. She seemed displeased with Yoongi’s presence, which was quite understandable, but it didn’t phase him as he was more interested in the shop around him. Walking around with curious eyes.

“Do not spend too much time out there.” was the last thing she addressed to Yoongi before we walked out of the shop.

“You think there’s more cursed things in that shop?” he asked.

“I do not want to think about it.” He chuckled at my response, then I added, “Full moon is tomorrow night.. Do you want to spend one last day with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I think you deserve one last good day before.. resting."

I watched him give my offer a thought as we walked down the street, then he broke into a wide smile, "You mean it?"

“Of course! You’re new here. We can't do much in less than a day, but we can do things around the town. And then we’ll go to the beach before the sun sets, do what we need to do…”

“That sounds way too good to be true.”

“We'll make it true.” I reassured him with a nod.

The next morning, I found Yoongi sitting with a book I could easily recognize from my own collection resting in his hands. He had told me that since he doesn’t sleep, he spent the night reading from my bookshelf. After a few minutes of me listening as he talked so passionately, impressed by everything he’d read, I decided it was time to commence my mission of granting the man his most merited happy day.

It started with a short trip to a well-known bakery, where I made him try whatever his heart—and stomach—desired of baked goods. I bought him wine to taste, and he said it bore no resemblance to that of ancient times. That's how we found ourselves running a taste test on a bunch of beverage bottles, and he had the same reaction to all of them. I also ended up getting him some soda cans to try, and he liked them.

I rented two bikes. It took some time for him to adjust, whining about being confined inside a jar for a hundred years. But once he got the hang of it, we went wandering around the streets of the city with the breeze kissing our cheeks.

I then brought him to a park, one he later said he really liked. We walked between the trees and let the grass tickle our toes. Sat between colorful flowers, redolent with the scent of an early spring. He made a crown and insisted on taking a picture of me with it. He later revealed that he used to love nature the most when he was still alive, and talked about the days he’d spent in the green despite his father’s constant insistence on marriage and building a family of his very own.

I asked him how old he was when he died, he said twenty-eight. And suddenly, his appearance made sense after that. Too young and too handsome, how could the world still let go of him?

He laughed when I made a comment about that and joked, saying that apparently his past lover didn’t want him to live past twenty-eight. I could feel the heavy pain in that joke slicing at my neck, stinging, and I swallowed it down.

He stopped to pet every dog and cat that crossed our path. I couldn’t help but take a picture or two, though the camera never caught his reflection in its frame.

I made sure to drag him towards the kid’s section of the park, where I taught him how to play in the slides and the swings and spring riders. Two grown-ups playing around in a kids’ playground had its fair amount of questioning stares, but hearing him giggle and seeing his wide grin was more than worth it.

We kept on talking nonstop about the differences between our timelines. We made it to a bridge that looked over a lake, the clouds above reflected on the water surface, glowing with the sun behind them. Yoongi started throwing small pieces of bread for the floating ducks, and I just stood there, observing.

“What other place do you want to go to?”

“The beach.” He answered, not looking up from his task. “My favorite place.”

It was a couple of hours before the sunset when we finally made it to the beach. There was a chill in the air that evening, the sand wasn’t as burning as it probably was when the sun was still up high in the sky, beaming. I let my lungs sip on the fresh scent of the ocean as I took a deep breath in, watching Yoongi approach the water with distant eyes.

He let the foamy edge climb its way to his toes, dipping his ankles and then retreating to the sea. He sat on the sand and I did the same.

We didn’t talk. We just sat there and watched the waves dancing with the wind as the sun sank to meet the horizon.

It wasn’t until shades of blue, orange and red blended, interwoven as they painted the breathtaking scenery before us that he spoke in a hushed voice, as though he’d startle the sun and make it rush to hide under the ocean if he spoke any louder, “Thank you for everything, really. No one has ever been this nice to me, even when I was still alive. This meant the most to me.”

I smiled.

“You know, if I were still alive, or if we had met sometime in my lifetime, I would’ve done everything I could to keep you by my side.” I could see him scratch at the back of his head from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see his giddy smile.

“you shouldn’t say things like this ‘cause I’m going to be thinking about it for the rest of my life.” I said, sheepishly.

His smile grew bigger, “Sounds superb. At least someone will remember me.”

My heart clenched.

“You deserve to be remembered.” I said.

“I really don’t.” I could see tears pricking his eyes as they turned a faint red. I had so much to ask at that moment, but I couldn’t. Words were stuck behind my teeth, and I just turned my head to face the horizon again.

“It’s time.” He noted, standing up and offering his hand to me. I took it in mine and stood on my feet, gripping the pouch between my fingers. We marched deeper into the sea, deep enough that the water reached our knees.

“ready?” I asked one last time, and he nodded, his smile never fading away.

The pouch felt so heavy as I untied its drawstring, carefully emptying its content into the water. Yoongi stood behind me, and I didn’t have the heart to look over my shoulder.

It took everything in me to turn around, and when I did, he was no longer there. Breeze blew in my face, and I swear I could feel warmth touching my skin for a moment, or two.

Whether I’d want to visit that antique shop again or not was something I still can’t put my finger on, but somewhere, somehow, deep down I knew I was thankful for it guided the vase– the urn to my hands.

And I whispered prayers of him resting at peace ever after as I looked up at the glowing moon above and the sparkling stars that swimmed all around it.

Grieving a person I never knew, but had the chance to cross paths with, at last.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 6)

A/n: ok here's a little warning. First from now on i'll take a bit longer to publish because ... work. It's also slightly shorter than usual

second i've realised that i had completely forgotten that Keller is the last name of the character Alex. So i do want to underline that it is not in fact alex Keller.

third, thank you so much for the love you have given to this story, it warms my heart. I hadn't written in a long time and i was afraid to post anything. I'm really happy that you guys like it.

Fourth, thank you so much for the little ideas you send me, they're very helpful. I apologise if I fon't translate the full idea into the story but i try to add any little thing you send my way.

fifth, you are entirely allowed to fucking hate me.

Warnings: as usual, cursing, violence, mentions of death.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"(Y/N)". 

You smirked.

"Yes?" You questioned, glancing back as you sat at the counter in the kitchen. 

"What time is it?" He asked from the couch. 

"It's 7pm" you answered. 

You smiled down at your computer. (Y/N). You had heard him say your name more than a couple dozen times today. Since you both told each other your real names, he had seemed to chant it non-stop. At any little question or situation. 

"Y/N." 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Yes Simon?" You chanted sweetly. 

A few seconds ticked before he answered. 

"I have to tell you something." He answered, tone serious. 

You paused your current activity to turn in your seat towards him. He was looking back at you. 

"I have a Mission scheduled." He warned. 

"Oh. Alright." You answered cautiously. 

"I won't be here for a while." He announced. 

"For… a while?" You frowned. "How long?" 

"Around 2 months." 

You swallowed, looking away. You didn't exactly know how to react. Obviously he had missions. You found yourself in a mix of sadness, worry and frustration. 

"Y/N." 

You looked up at him. By the look in his eyes, you felt like he was going to ask if you were ok. And you didn't want to answer that. 

"Why do you keep calling my name?" You asked. 

He remained silent. You stood up walking to the couch letting yourself fall next to him. He closed the file on his lap, red letters stamped on it. 

"Simon ?" You pushed. 

"I don't." He defended. 

"Simon." You scolded kindly. 

He groaned, looking away. 

"How will you know if I'm addressing myself to you?" He debated. 

"We literally are the only two people here." You chuckled. He ignored it. 

You sighed, shrugging. You turned to the TV letting yourself enjoy the time you could spend with him. The tv played with whatever show was on as you started to think about something to order for dinner, too tired to cook. 

"I like it." 

You blinked. 

"Hm?" You questioned, turning to him. 

He raised his hand, turning your head so you looked at the tv instead. 

"I said. I like your name." 

"Oh. Really? It's nothing extraordinary though." You said blushing a bit. 

"I was curious. After a few weeks. About your name." 

You tried turning your head to him but he repeated his move, groaning annoyingly.

"It's… delicate…" he praised. 

You felt your heart rate quicken. He.. liked your name. 

"So… you like how it sounds?" You asked. 

"Pretty much." He said matter of factly. 

"Alright." You nodded. 

"I like… that it's your name."

You turned your attention back to the TV, your mind unable to process anything after what he had just told you. 

"I.." you started after a long minute. 

"I like when you say it…" you said in a low voice. 

The rest of the evening was spent very calmly. As per contrast to the rest of the week. 

You sighed, grabbing your things to head out. Simon had been spending more and more time at the base. He had been preparing with the squad, preparing gear, tactics and training harder.

You could feel it. He had progressively grown colder. The ghost taking its rightful place, ready to hunt its target. You could feel him being careful around you, his mood had a drastic change and it seemed he tried to keep you away. 

You tried to give him the space he needed. But you grew more and more worried and sad as the days passed. 

You walked out of the door, walking down the apartment complex. 

You stopped and cursed as soon as you walked outside. 

"Hey Sparrow! Ready?" 

"Soap. What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously already aware of the answer. 

"Price asked me to come pick you up on the way to the base." The sergeant answered with a smile. 

You rolled your eyes. Walking to him he opened the passenger seat for you. You thanked him, sitting and buckling your seatbelt. You watched the man skip to his side and get in. As you started driving to the base you asked. 

"How is he this morning?" You asked. 

"Well. Murderous." He smirked. "He's been training with some recruits coming along on the mission this morning and I think he's making them regret ever enlisting." He laughed. 

You sighed. His mood had been becoming more and more sour. Not necessarily because he didn't want this mission, but mostly because he was entirely focusing on his target. The thought made a shiver down your spine. 

"I don't think I'll be of help this time." You said. 

Price had been asking you to come by the training sessions or after meetings to try and soothe his moods, but the closer the day of departure arrived the harder it became. 

"Ah, don't worry. We're used to it. He's not entirely bad. As soon as he'll be in the field, he'll be the LT we're used to." He said. "We, the squad. I don't think you've seen him like that. But not sure… he wants you to." He said with a smile your way. 

You bit your lip. Did you want to see him like that? A part of you did want. Another felt anxious at the thought. 

The rest of the ride was spent in small talk. The closer you got to the base the more you could feel your body fall into a stressful state. 

When soap parked in front of the training grounds, you walked out before entering the warehouse, the first thing you heard was the sound of people talking. The place had been rearranged as a training ground. Various dummies, people sparing at each other on mattresses. 

Soap dragged you towards the rest of the squad a bit further from the rest. 

"Here's our little bird." Price smiled. 

You sighed but threw him a weak smile. You turned your head to the closest training mat. A breath caught in your throat. He saw fighting. With a man that surprisingly was a bit taller than him, also wearing a mask, though much looser. You watched the punches and kicks being thrown. They weren't holding back. Suddenly Ghost body slammed his opponent to the ground, the sound echoing. You flinched. That must have hurt. 

"Don't worry, sparrow. They're used to it." Price tried to reassure you. 

"Sure… if you say so. He seems to be fully into it." You commented. 

"He is." 

"I don't understand captain. Soap said it's usual for him to behave like this before a mission. Why do you want me to show up everyday?" You asked, turning to him. 

He put a hand on your shoulder, walking you a few steps away from the rest of the squad. 

"This time is a bit different. He seems. Frustrated." 

"I don't think my presence helps." 

"It does a bit. Though I know it's getting harder for you to deal with his mood. Today especially. The departures date was moved. We leave in 48h." He said with a sorry look. 

You took a moment to process the information.

"It's not hard to deal with it. I'm just sensing it's being more and more useless. He's getting frustrated at me." You answered honestly. 

"I don't want you two to fight. You don't have to go see him." 

"I'll try. One last time." You replied with a soft smile. 

He nodded. You turned back to Ghost. The fight was over, his opponent walked away, slightly limping and rubbing the back of his neck. You walked towards him. 

"You ok?" You asked lowly. 

"Ah, ja, I'm ok!" He answered the taint of accent on his words. 

You smiled, continuing your path towards the man readjusting his gloves. 

"Hey." 

He stiffened, looking back at you. 

"Why are you here?" 

Ouch. You smirked at him. 

"Price asked me to come check something for your mission." You lied. 

He nodded. His chest heaved, his breath had quickened from the physical exercise though he didn't seem out of breath.

"Will you be home for dinner?" You asked. 

"I don't know." He answered in a cold tone. 

You could hear, Price started to walk up to you too very slowly. 

"I can keep a plate for you if-" 

"Sparrow. I'M BUSY." He barked, the sound echoing. A dreadful silence stood in the whole place. Everyone had stopped talking.

You flinched. Not enough for the others to see but he had noticed. The sound of small talk started again, probably under Price's glare.

"I'm sorry Ghost." You tried. Standing your ground hands behind your back. 

"Lieutenant." He corrected coldly. 

Price had finally reached the both of you. 

"Fine." You spat back, the staring match now showing off both of your frustrations. 

"Do you need anymore help captain?" You asked, not dropping your gaze from Ghost. 

"No sparrow. Thank you and I apologize for-" 

"It's fine. If lieutenant Riley wants to be a dickhead that's on him." You said, visibly angry and visibly taunting the man. 

You turned around walking to the rest of the squad. 

"You good?" Gaz asked.

"I'm perfect. I'll see you guys another time." You said with a smile towards them before exiting the perimeter. You took a deep breath outside. Fuck. What was wrong with him? The behavior had changed so drastically. A week ago, he was chanting your name in every sentence. Now he refused to even say it. He was cold. It was hard to hide the fact it was hurting. You were trying to see his point of view too, but you missed his old self. 

You closed your eyes for a second. You had work to get to. So you did. 

You had stalled. A lot. It was very late. You didn't need to be at the base. You could have spent the day working from home. Fuck you had finished all your work. Yet it was 9pm. And you were only turning the key in the lock to the apartment now. 

You didn't want to fight again. You didn't want to fight before he left. You dropped your things on the ground and fell face first on the couch. The house was silent. Dark. It felt odd. You turned, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. You closed your eyes. Several minutes passed by before you heard his door open. You sat up as he walked into the living room. 

You shared a look. He seemed annoyed. His new signature mood.

"What?" You spat. 

"Don't." He warned. 

"Don't what?" You replied in the same tone. 

"Don't be a brat." He said. 

You laughed coldly. 

"I'm not the one being a brat Simon." 

"Lieutenant." He corrected it once more. 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Why did you pass by the training grounds again?" He asked. 

"Because Price asked me to." You answered honestly. 

You stood up walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He stopped you halfway, grasping your arm. It wasn't soft but he was still careful not to hurt you. 

"Sparrow. Don't come insult me in front of my men." He said in a serious tone. 

"I didn't. I came to ask you something. You fucking yelled at me." You answered. 

"I have other things to do other than giving you attention." He scolded. 

"I didn't ask for attention." You replied, taking your arm back and crossing them over your chest. Fury growing in you.

"Y/N."

"Oh, we're back on a name to name basis?" You asked sarcastically. 

He frowned. You were pushing his buttons. Unfortunately for both of you, he was too. 

"Sparrow. You and I are not-" 

"What? We're not friends?" You asked, interrupting him. 

He stood there, silent. 

"Is that what you're going to say?" You started now letting your anger finally out. 

"Are you going to push me away again? And then leave without saying a word?" You continued your tone slowly rising. 

"Are we going to fight until you leave and then you'll come back as if nothing happened? Fuck Simon! It looks like you're doing this on purpose!!" You ended. 

And suddenly it hit you. Like a shit ton of bricks.

"You are…" you said in a whisper. 

He turned away. 

"You are! You're doing it on purpose. You're making us hate each other before you leave on missions." You said, incredulous. 

"Y/N stop." He warned in a tone that promised repercussions. 

"Why? Why are you doing this?" You asked, stepping closer. 

He seemed to think for a minute. 

"I'm a soldier. I go out there. I kill and I very possibly… get killed." He explained. 

You frowned in confusion. He groaned in annoyance. 

"I might not come back." He said abruptly. 

"I know that. So what? You think making me hate you is what…? Going to make it… feel ok?" You asked. 

He looked straight at you. 

"My death isn't something that deserves mourning." 

You blinked. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Anger spoke volumes. Actually it moved fast too. You didn't exactly know how you grabbed the pillow from the couch and started hitting him with it. 

"SIMON, FUCKING RILEY, DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN." You punctuated every word with a hit. 

He groaned. You were really hitting his last nerves. 

"I care! I fucking care! It's not up to you to decide if I should or not!" You said, this time tears prickling at your eyes. 

He noticed. You hit him harder trying to hide it from him. He grabbed the pillow, snatching it from your grip and throwing it somewhere in the room. He grabbed your wrists making you back up against the wall. 

"Calm down." He tried, his voice slightly calmer. 

"No! Fuck Simon!" You scolded. 

You stared at each other. 

"Lieutenant Simon ghost Riley, you better come back to me." You whispered. 

He didn't say anything. He leant forward, letting the top of his skull mask rest on your forehead and hissed a fuck. Your breaths mixing together. 

"If we hate each other. We have nothing to lose in this situation. We shouldn't have…been friends in the first place." He explained in a whisper.

"Do you hate me?" You asked in a whisper too.

His grip on your wrists tightened. He didn't answer. 

"If I don't come back. You're going to have to deal with it." He answered coldly. 

He let go of your arms, stepping back as you looked at him, eyes wide in shock. He simply turned around. And walked out of the apartment.

You bit your lip closing your eyes. God. He was stubborn. You were hurt once more. Even if you knew he didn't mean it. In his stupid attempt to spare you from being hurt, he ironically hurt you. 

You took a deep breath. You wanted to sleep, forget this whole discussion. You wanted to roll into your blankets. So you did, and you let sleep take you. 

That morning, you had gotten up with very little motivation. You had realized quite quickly he had not slept home. You tried to go about your day but your mind kept running back to him. Was he really going to leave with saying goodbye? 

The hours ticked and the more the realization settled in. He wasn't coming back. You decided to go to the base in the afternoon to drop a report. You had met with the squad, avoiding talking about their lieutenant. You told them goodbye, threatening to go find them if they don't come back. They had announced they were leaving late in the night, the departure being changed again. 

You were going to miss them. You had started to get used to their presence. To enjoy their company. They had grown on you. 

You walked home pretty late. Feeling devastated by your roommate's behavior. You wanted to see him. Talk to him. Hug him before he left. But it wouldn't happen. The thought making you want to cry. 

You walked into your apartment. The silence felt horrible. You dropped your coat over the couch, slowly walking to his bedroom. A shy knock on his door was heard. It was the only thing heard. Nothing. Your hand reached for the doorknob slowly. Turning it, you opened his door. Empty. He wasn't there. 

You turned around, feeling the need to go back to your bed. You froze. Your door was open. You frowned, slowly walking into your room. You noticed a bag on your bed. You approached, sitting next to it. You opened it, taking out the soft object inside. 

You stared at it. Tears rushing down your cheeks. It was a squish-able round plush. Of the grim reaper. It was black, with a cute skull for a face. You hugged it. 

Knock knock knock. 

You looked up. Holding the plush, you stood, walking to the door. You opened it. 

"Hi! I'm… Sergeant Hansen… I'm your new neighbor… are you ok?" 

You stared at the man in front of you.

He wasn't going to say goodbye.

----

tags:

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy411 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnylol @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboii @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @friendly-reject @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24 @cated18 @swg141 @ghost-2513 @whore4dilfs @yggrid @jaehyacinths @juneitoo @popevickysmainbitch @topgirl17 @mildlyhopeless @feyredarling92 @thegirlintheshadows101-blog  @badbittywitty @yourmom3-5 @tapioca-marzipan @xoprincesslea @here4thespice @goldyghoul @wolfyland07 @chingaderastillidie @d4z01 @stokcholm @khjssss @julesclues @hopefuloperaangelnerd

[seriesxwriting]

Let me show you who I really am

Pairing- Kol Mikaelson

Series- vampire diaries

Summary- usually you’d get quite a few boys ask you to prom, but not this year. Apparently they were all scared of your admirer who wanted you all to himself.

Warnings- kissing, vampire killing, mentions of blood, detailed description of killing.

“I can’t believe it was over a month since I posted- I apologise! I will try to be more active but sitting A levels has apparently hindered my ability to come up with ideas. Just bare with me <3”

It was finally the day of our school prom. I’d been stressing about what to wear, how to have my hair, what colour to use on my lips. But the biggest thing I was stressing about, was who I was going to go with. It’s not a flex but in the past I’ve had multiple offers from boys to go to dances or gatherings. But this time, nothing. Not one offer. I even went out my way asking hector wathe to come with me, seems we’d gone to a dance together last term. But he just shook his head and ran away from me. I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t consumed with confusion about his behaviour.

So I gave up on the date thing, assumed I’d be going myself. But my girl’s picked me up, ditched their dates so they could come with me. Prom was about friendship anyway. Not a random boy I’d forget once I made a life for myself.

“Y/n? Is that you?” My mother called as I walked through the door. I smiled as she entered the hallway with a giant box in her arms. “This came for you sweetheart” she edged over to me passing the box into my arms. “What is it?” I questioned frowning. “We haven’t opened it, it’s private” she shrugged staring at the box. I could see her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could be inside. “Thanks mum” I swallowed joining in with her thinking myself. Who was it from. What was in it. I carried it up the stairs as my mum filtered back into the living room to watch whatever was on the tv. I put the box on my bed and then lifted the lid off it, curious about the details. There was a note on top of the white tissue paper.

“Saw this and it reminded me of you, thought you’d look good in it, like you do in everything” I whispered as I read it out to myself. My eyes flicked down to the bottom “from Kol” my eyes widened at the three letters of his name. Kol? Why would Kol send me a dress? What game was he playing? Sure id noticed his eyes lingering on me for a while too long before and noticed how his deep eyes compelled me to stare into them until I melted. But that doesn’t give him a reason to send me a dress. I placed the card on my bed and unwrapped the tissue paper. I pulled out this gorgeous emerald dress. It had a silver strip coming from the waistline all the way down the sides of the leg spilt. It looked as if they’d put the gems on by hand, one at a time taking precaution not to ruin or snag any part of it. The dress was slightly off the shoulders which would make my chest look great.

It was overwhelming. It must have cost a fortune. But here it was in my house, lying on my bed. All because of Kol? A Mikaelson was showing me more interest than any of the boys from school. He was supposed to be a sworn enemy, and because of that, I folded the dress back up and put it back in the box. I already had a dress. It was a lot simpler and less expensive but it was mine. And it wasn’t gifted to me by a deranged, gorgeous psychopath. No I meant a deranged, bloodthirsty, psychopath. Not gorgeous. I couldn’t have meant gorgeous. Putting the note back, I lifted the box putting it under my bed where no one would find it. I’d give it back to him if I ever got the chance. It wasn’t right to keep it let alone wear it. Plus I was running out of time overthinking this, I had to get ready.

I curled my hair after my shower and put on my red dress. It didn’t have sparkles on it, but it did have a cute leg slit and a nice tied up back. “Mum!! Can you come and do me up!!” I yelled out of my room. A minute or two later she came plodding up the stairs. She stopped in front of me smiling and her eyes filling up as she raised a finger to wipe her tear. “Oh y/n you look so gorgeous” she whimpered walking over to hug me. “Thanks mum” I whispered nuzzling my face into her neck with a grin across my cheeks. “Come on, let me tie the back” she smiled ushering me over to the mirror. “Oh- y/n have you noticed this rip?” She blinked looking at the back of me. “RIP?! Where!!” I turned around trying to have a look in the mirror. “Here?” She pointed looking stressed herself. “Oh god- what am I going to do- can you fix it?” I blinked at her in utter panic. “No- well yes- but not in time for your prom” she shook her head having a closer look at it. “Come on, I’ll need to work fast, you’ll only be a little late, take it off” she patted me on the back but I eyed the box sticking out from under my bed. “No- no it’s okay, I’ll wear something else” I blinked, not taking my eyes off it. “Something else? What else do you possibly have to wear to a prom?” She raised an eyebrow following my eyeline.

“I’ll meet you and dad downstairs, give me ten minutes” I smiled rubbing her shoulder. “Alright…” she trailed off leaving my room full of confusion. I didn’t move. I swallowed staring at the box. Would it be completely wrong to wear it? I had nothing else I could wear. Surely my friends would understand. I sighed walking over to it, clipping on the floor in my black heels. Taking it out from under my bed. I held it up over my body looking at it in the mirror. I put my head on one side thinking for a second. Before removing all the thoughts out of my head and putting it on. I walked down stairs to my parents sitting in the front room. Their eyes widened as I walked in. “Y/n! That dress is stunning where did you get it?” My mother gasped covering her mouth with her hand.

“It was a gift” I bit my lip not wanting to say anymore. “You look amazing darling, you’ll be the best dressed there” my dad smiled at me. With that the door bell rang. “That must be the girls” I smiled rushing out as fast as the dress would let me go. But when I opened the door the girls weren’t there. Kol was. He stood with his famous smirk, his hand held a big bunch of roses as his eyes looked me up and down. “So I was right, it does suit you” he joked, my jaw was ajar now staring at him. “What are you doing here- why are you wearing a suit and- why do you have flowers- why did you send me a dress?” I hissed coming outside closing the door so my parents wouldn’t hear us. “Because I’m taking you to prom” “erm- no you’re not!” I scoffed almost laughing. “You don’t have a date? So why can’t it take you?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“There are a number! Of reasons why you can’t take me to prom kol” I laughed before the realisation sank in. “How the hell do you know I don’t have a date?” I whispered frowning at him. His brown eyes slimmed on me as his smirk widened. “I may have sent out a message to some guys- that you were taken” he shrugged his shoulders. “What?” I blinked in disbelief, my breath hitched. “I want to take you, I don’t want other guys putting their hand on you” he told me slamming his eyebrows down. “You’re serious?” I asked him in a quiet voice. “You’re a vampire kol- you’ve hurt my friend- not only that you’re an original…” I trailed off holding the door handle. “And what?” He shrugged laughing. “I’m here aren’t I? I’m not lying I’m not causing trouble- a vampire can’t admit his feelings for a girl?”. “Feelings? For me? I’m just an ordinary human Kol” “you’re not ordinary y/n- you’re different from your friends, different from all humans” he smiled staring into my eyes. “How” I slimmed my eyes at him shaking my head not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“You think you can put me on the spot y/n?” Kol chuckled to himself. “The way you carry yourself, the way you stick to your morals, your loyalty to those you love, your way of seeing the best in people even if they have hurt your friends- you’re out here talking to me, you could have stayed in your house in the safety- so you must be slightly intrigued or trust me slightly- just give me a chance y/n” he put his head to the side as I consumed everything he dumped on me. “I will protect you- treat you right- I just want a chance to show you who I really am, I don’t want anything more to do with klaus and his mess- let me show you that” he begged, I saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t lying, if he was he was a damn good lier. I wasn’t wearing vvraine so he could have compelled me but, he didn’t. “Okay- you have one night to make me feel anything but uncomfortable around you” I raised my eye brow at him reaching out for the flowers. I smiled at them clutching them between my arms. “I’m gonna grab my bag and text the girls to meet me there- you can wait here” I told him with a little smile warming up to the idea of Kol Mikaelson liking me. If he was a normal boy this would be so much easier, he was attractive- he was gorgeous. But he wasn’t normal, he’s a vampire who’s been around 1000 years longer than me.

I did as I said I would before saying goodbye to my parents. I met Kol outside his car where he opened the door for me before getting in his own side. He drove us to prom while keeping up basic conversation, which just intrigued me more. I wanted to know what he was up to. We got to the prom location in under twenty minutes. When no one was looking Kol vamp ran round to my side and opened my door for me. “Kol!” I hissed shaking my head. “Don’t do that you could get caught” I whispered as he put his hand out for me. I took it gently. “They wouldn’t be alive very long if they did catch me darling” he whispered in my ear as I stepped out. “I don’t want any killings here tonight, or I’ll never forgive myself” I widened my eyes at him. “Yes mam” he smirked leaning in closer to me. There wasn’t much room between my back and the car or my front and kol. “I can hear your heart racing darling” he whispered tucking my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you until you ask me to, and you will” he winked before stepping back and putting his arm out for me.

“You’re delusional” I giggled rolling my eyes taking his arm. We walked towards the enterance and kitty Renfeild stood outside with a camera. “Hey y/n- and y/n’s handsome date” she winked at Kol who completely blanked her without him even knowing I was looking at him. His arm wrapped around my waist and he whispered “going have to get a little closer now love” he pulled me into his body. The flick of jealously I felt from kitty’s comment was what I blamed my actions on. I pressed my body against him putting my other hand on Kols chest. I heard him chuckle as I posed for the photo. “Have fun” she told us after snapping the photo and in we went. There were lot of people here even though we were maybe ten minutes early. There were flashing lights and drink tables everywhere. People were already dancing to the shit music playing. “Has Kol Mikaelson ever been to a high school prom?” I asked him smiling up. “Oh I’ve been to my fair share of dances, balls and whatever was going on in the 1920s but never a prom” he laughed catching my eyes. “And I’ve never had such a gorgeous date to attend any of these events with” he winked. “Quite the charmer ain’t you” I nudged him gently.

“Y/n? What’s this all about?”. I look up and see Elena, Bonnie and Caroline all staring at me like I’m an alien. Or, staring at Kol like he’s an alien. “Hey girls…” I trailed off as my heart started pounding. Kol clearly picked up on it because his grip round my waist became tighter. “I can explain, I have a thing for y/n- have done ever since I laid my eyes on her and i decided now was the time to tell her” “what” Carolin blinked in horror. “He’s a Mikaelson y/n” Elena widened her eyes at me. “He doesn’t want to be involved anymore” I shook my head at her hoping they’d find some way to look at this differently. “You can’t trust him- he’s a vampire” Bonnie hissed at me, her face pulled into disgust. “Well that’s why I’ve braught him- to see if I can trust him” I told them with a little bit of a shrug. The girls all looked round at each other. “I’m done with all klaus’s shit, I want to prove that- not necessarily to you guys but to y/n” he told them blankly. “I’m sorry y/n, but I don’t like it” Elena stepped back before rushing off into the crowd. Kol rolled his eyes at her “she’s always so dramatic”. “I…” Caroline trailed off not knowing what to say in this situation.

“I’m going to get some air, will you be alright for a second” I tapped Kol on the bicep. “Yes gorgeous” he nodded brushing my hand with his. That made me smile. Even within this mess. My friends hated the idea of me and Kol being together, on a serious level. Elena was ready to cry about it. But what made it worse was the fact that I thought I was really starting to like him. He was charming, he was handsome, he was bold and confident. He was my type. I made it outside to the side of the tent and took a deep breath. I had two options here, to lose my friends and continue on with Kol- or leave him now. And that was a hard decision. “Y/n, i didn’t expect to see you here”. I whipped around seeing klaus standing opposite me. He had a girl in his arms and blood was dripping all down his chin. Her neck had been torn open. Klaus’s eyes illuminated orange as fear spread across my face. “Klaus- what have you done…” I whispered blinking at the lifeless girl.

“I came to create a massacre, I’d say I’m going to start with you but I’ve already started” he chuckled throwing the body on the floor. Klaus walked a few steps towards me while I took a few back hitting the tent behind me. “Why are you doing this?” I gasped as he vamp ran in front of me. I could smell the blood that was smothered across his mouth and T-shirt he was that close. “Because i simply can” he smirked reaching out for my hair. I pushed his hand away from me scrunching my face up. “That was stupid” his eyes lit up again as anger starting to corse through his veins. I saw his jaw tighten emphasising his anger. “It was stupid to come out alone anyway” he grunted and my last thought was about to be ‘klaus is right’. As he lunged forwards towards my neck his body got ripped away from me and he flew backwards hitting a tree with a thud. I pannted looking around before finally seeing my hero. Kol stood there scowling at his brother who was in the process of standing up. “She didn’t come alone brother” Kol raised his eyebrows. Once klaus stood up he flicked his eyes between us assessing the situation.

“A human?” Klaus chuckled from a distance. “I thought you were into witches” “I thought you were into Caroline but we all know how that worked out” Kol walked closer to me standing in front of me as if he was a shield. “What are you playing at Kol?” “I like her, and you aren’t going to touch a hair on her head without going through me” Kol answered folding his arms across his chest. Klaus laughed, it went right through me making my blood boil. “I could easily get through you” “so do it” Kol shrugged letting his arms lose once again. “I’m sure we will see each other real soon little brother” klaus nodded before vamp running away into the forest. Kol turned around and came to me fussing and checking I was okay. “Kol! I’m fine- do you realise how many people you just saved” I questioned almost weak from the shock of his protection. “I don’t care y/n, you are my priority, when you’re with me you will be safe I’ll make sure of it” he told me brushing a finger down my cheek. I felt my cheeks going red. He made me feel emotions I’d never felt towards a guy before.

I pushed my body against his and wrapped my arms slowly around his neck gently pulling his head down to meet mine. Our lips met, gently at first but then Kol gripped my waist, pulling me even closer to his body. There’s something about almost dying that makes you do crazy things. Life is short, and I want to try life with Kol. No matter the repercussions.

Kol masterlist

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[pweepsiee]

Thank you but goodbye

This won’t get any traction because only pictures of tits get pushed or interacted with but that’s okay. I’ll add tags so you guys see this anyway.

It’s hard to know where to start. I spent a long time on here, putting pieces of myself out into the void, hoping for connection, validation, maybe even some kind of understanding. But it’s been a journey that taught me more than I ever anticipated—about others, about myself, and about the darker sides of online spaces and human nature.

I’ve been through more than I ever thought I’d face here. I’ve had people send me things no one should have to see—gore, graphic threats of rape and murder. Strangers who decided they had the right to punish me with violence for simply existing and sharing my body on my own terms. I’ve been slut-shamed, insulted, torn apart, told I’m not “enough” in a thousand different ways. Too fat, too ugly, too bitchy, too much of a people pleaser. For some, my body was never enough to satisfy whatever expectation they’d dreamed up for me. And when I expressed my pain, I was told to just “try harder” to please. Every insult, every attack—it was relentless.

At first, there was a thrill in it. The idea that people were paying attention. But over time, it became less about freedom and self-expression, and more like a trap. I started needing the notifications, addicted to the fleeting rush of being “seen,” even if it came with all the ugliness. I posted things that made me feel raw, exposed, and ashamed—but still, I kept them up. It wasn’t even about me anymore; it was about performing for a faceless audience, one that only wanted to consume and never connect. I kept hoping that if I posted more, someone might notice that I was struggling, that I was hurting. But the moments I tried to be vulnerable were met with derision, mockery, or worse, cruelty.

On October 6th, I tried to end my life. It wasn’t a whim or a flippant decision—it was the culmination of feeling completely worthless, invisible beyond what I could offer visually, and unheard. I had tried to signal that I was in pain, and the responses I got were gut-wrenching. People told me to “try again,” mocking my failure to die. Others brushed it aside entirely, demanding I get back to posting my body as if I had no value beyond that. It was like looking into a mirror that only showed one version of myself—a version people felt entitled to consume and degrade.

There’s a sickness in spaces like these, a perverse lack of empathy and human decency. There’s a void where kindness, respect, and understanding should be. I’ve encountered men who would spit their hate, their misogyny, their violent fantasies at me without a second thought, men who have shown me how easily they can strip away my humanity to satisfy their own needs. Some are rapists, some are worse, and they all seem to revel in their cruelty, hiding behind screens. They have taught me that, to them, I am just an object—a body, a pair of tits, something to use and discard. They’ve shown me how quickly love, admiration, or even simple respect can turn into venom the moment they don’t get exactly what they want.

Being on here has been like swimming in polluted water, beautiful on the surface but poisonous underneath. What started as a space to share myself turned into a source of harm that corroded my mental and physical well-being. It was more than just being objectified—it was the sense that I didn’t even matter as a person, only as a vessel for gratification. And that feeling sank deeper and deeper, leaving wounds I’m still working to heal.

I’ve met a few kind people here, people who saw me for more than just a body, who offered me small glimpses of kindness, understanding, and friendship. To those few: thank you. Your kindness did not go unnoticed, and I wish you nothing but peace, joy, and all the love you deserve. To those who saw my humanity and respected it—I’m grateful.

But to the rest: those who degraded me, insulted me, sent me threats or slurs, and preyed on my vulnerabilities—you’ll reap what you sow, one way or another. I don’t hold anger toward you, but I do pity you. And I have no intention of letting your words and actions follow me into the future.

There’s been a silver lining in all of this, and it’s one of the few positive things I’m taking with me. Through all of the toxicity, I discovered something important about myself. I realized I am a lesbian, and that I no longer want to be viewed as something for men to consume. I am worth so much more than being reduced to a body on a screen, worth more than any like, reblog, or message notification. I deserve to be seen, truly seen, as a whole person, and to be loved for who I am, not what I look like or what I can give to others.

This is goodbye. For those who truly cared, I’ll remember you. For those who didn’t, I’ll leave you behind, along with this platform that no longer serves me. I’m taking my life back, my self-worth back, and finding peace in spaces that don’t drain me.

Thank you, and goodbye. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑴𝒆, 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏

NightPrince!Park Seonghwa X DawnPrincess!Reader

Summary: The Night Prince disappeared into thin air. No one knows where he is or why he left. You, his wife, send a desperate prayer to the moon to return him to you.

WC: 735

CW: First person POV, angst, fluff

AN: Boo, surprise angst.

Yeah this one is different. Born of a bout of depression and guilt, and an idea @malldreamprincess and I thought of during Paradigm era (wdym it's been over a year since then). But I really wanted to post it, so...here you go.

Named after and heavily inspired by "From Me, The Moon" by Lav, please go listen to it, it's beautiful.

Tag List: @cherrycel @mxnsxngie @malldreamprincess

“Is the moon still in love with the sun?” I whispered into the empty room, the tears on my face running onto the pillow.

The moonlight splayed itself across the floor of my bedroom from my balcony. The sheer curtains gladly let it pass by, welcoming it in, even.

I'd wondered about it for years. Did he love me as much as he vowed he did, on that wonderful day we were joined in holy matrimony? Did he lie to me? Was it all a lie?

Was I ever truly his sunrise? His dawn? His sun?

The daylight to his moonlight?

If I was, then why had he disappeared? Why did he vanish without a trace? Why did he leave me?

Two years, and I wasn't the same as I used to be.

Two years after having returned to my home kingdom. A disgraced princess. An “almost queen.”

They could throw all the names they wanted at me. They could call me whatever they wanted. I knew in my heart that I loved him. That I was faithful. That I never would've abandoned him.

And he still disappeared. He still left. No one knew what happened to him.

I rose from my bed and crossed the room, unlocking the doors to the balcony and pulling them open to step out onto it.

The night air was biting, and seeped in through my thin nightgown. I braved the chill and laid my hands on the cold stone barrier, leaning against it, looking up at the moon.

The moon. Where my prince had believed to had come from. That he was a moondrop, a gift from the gods.

“My dear moonlight,” I whispered, “Please return to me. I want nothing more than to be in your arms again.”

The tears flowed down my cheeks again. The wind blew against my face and made me shiver.

“I don't know where or why you've gone. Most days, I don't care. All I want is for you to come home safe. For my husband to return to me.”

“I'm so sorry, my sunrise.”

I whirl around and my eyes meet his. My love. My husband. I heard his voice, I saw his face.

A hallucination? I blinked, and he remained. He remained, standing as he always did. Like a royal, proper prince would.

With not a scratch on him.

I ran forward and threw myself into his arms, hugging him tighter than I ever had before. He held me tight, and I never felt so safe.

My husband. My love. My moonlight.

“You're here,” I sobbed. I could hear him whimper.

“I'm here,” he repeated.

He was here. He'd returned to me. After so long, he'd returned to me when I needed him most. When I was beginning to think he never would. When I was wondering if he ever loved me.

I lifted my head and held his cheek. Again, not a single scratch on him. No scars, no markings. His skin was as clear as it could've been.

“My moonlight, where have you been?” I wiped his tears with my thumb, and he held my hand as he leaned against it.

Normally, I'd be demanding answers and making him tell me who the hell he thought he was disappearing for two years without a word to anyone. To me, his family, his kingdom.

But when he closed his gorgeous moonlit eyes and kissed my hand, his face crumpling in another sob, I couldn't bring myself to demand anything of him.

I pulled him closer as I reached up, and he met me in the middle in a sweet, loving kiss. Euphoria bloomed in my veins as his lips pressed against mine, stars exploded behind my eyes. I realized then how bad I craved his touch.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered above mine, and his eyes looked into mine. He reached out to hold my face as well, cradling the back of my head and side of my face. I gratefully leaned into it.

“I'm so sorry I left you, my dawn,” he whispered. “I won't ever leave without telling you.”

“Why did you leave at all?” I croaked out, my throat closing up.

Grief washed over his face. Dread rolled around in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't prepared for any of the words he said next.

“I returned to the moon.”

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[mrhaitch]

Hello Mr Haitch,

I'm sending this to both you and Haitch, so if you are seeing double that's why. I don't know if I'm looking for advice, an opinion? Maybe just talking to either of you will provide me with solace. Please bare with me as I write this - and you read - as words are not my strong suit.

So, I'm 19 - almost 20 - ( scary stuff ), and I just feel.. well, is there really a word? Alone; regretful; fucking empty. I haven't even lived through a quarter of my life yet, and I already feel as if it's been wasted. I know that there are still so many years with experiences I will remember in my rocking chair, and I don't plan to go down that route by any means. Because I want to live. But, I'm so tired. People need people, but I am not needed by anyone nor do I have anyone to need. I mean, quite literally one of the people whom I care the most for in this world is in my god-damned head. Of course, I have my family but that's different. It always is.

You're not a therapist, so I won't rattle on any more about this and that because it's not fair to burden you with a stranger's issues - this isn't even half of what I want to scream about from the fucking rooftops though. But, I'd like to say: here and now, that I want to change. And, y'know, I saw this quote once - about change ( it's not something I really feel comfortable with ). It went along the lines of: " I want to do this; But, I'm scared; Then do it scared. "

It'd be nice to not be scared of doing it.

I'll make a deal with you, not that you have to agree. I will message again in a month, maybe two, maybe in a year's time - who knows. An update, based upon what I have written and whatever your reply may be. No pressure, eh?

---

And, finally, one last thing: I would like to express my gratitude for both you and Mr Haitch on this platform - your dynamic, companionship ( both seemingly physical and online ); I envy the love you share. Not to just each other, but to us. Strangers through a screen. I never would have found you had it not been for Tumblr, so I appreciate that and you.

Speak to you again soon (I'll be waving at you behind my screen whenever you two post something new ). x 🌻

You have recognised something in yourself and made that commitment - there is no advice you need, either from us or anyone. It's a big step, and you've already taken it.

One thing I will give is a quote I wrote at the top of my journal when I started my PHD, and recite to myself when I'm about to make a big decision or do something I'm worried about:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." - Henry David Thoreau

The essential point is 'living deliberately': make choices. So many of us lapse into holding-patterns or routines that we find ourselves stuck in the weeds with no idea how we got there. Living deliberately means getting somewhere and having at least some notion of why.

Going one step further: love deliberately. I'm with Haitch because I choose her, every day. I look at everything we have, everything we want, and I look at her - then I make my choice. It's why, when I engage with all of you, I try to say only what I mean and can reach inside to the squishier, vulnerable parts of myself.

Thank you for your kind words, and we're here whenever you have something you want to share. Be as bold as you can, live with your chin high, live with your heart open, and learn to remain soft and gentle when the world wants you to have nothing but hard edges.

You've got this.

[jupiterpp]

CHAPTER FOUR: ANNOYANCE | 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞. -𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

important note; This is the first time I'm posting my stories on Tumblr. My mother tongue is not English so expect grammatical errors ahead.

word count: 896 words

MASTERLIST | CHAPTERS

As another week passed by at Hogwarts, I found myself immersed in my studies, trying my best to put the unsettling encounter with Riddle and Slughorn behind me. However, fate had other plans in store for me.

One afternoon, as I entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me when I saw the seating arrangement. Professor Burbage had assigned us partners for an upcoming project, and to my dismay, I found myself paired with none other than Tom Riddle.

I took my seat reluctantly, trying to keep my composure as Riddle approached, a small smirk playing on his lips. "It seems we're partners," he remarked, his tone cool and composed.

"Yes, it appears so," I said before mumbling under my breath. "Out of all people."

"What was that?" he inquired, his eyebrow arched.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, avoiding his gaze.

"I have assigned each of you a partner for this project," Professor Merrythought's voice echoed through the room as she continued her explanation. "You will be working closely together to research and present on a topic of your choosing within the realm of defensive magic."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as Professor Merrythought's voice filled the room, her words sending a shiver down my spine. Working closely with Riddle on a project about Defense Against the Dark Arts was not exactly what I had in mind for the semester.

Riddle, however, seemed unfazed by the professor's announcement, his expression remaining inscrutable as he settled into the seat beside me.

"As partners, you will have the opportunity to explore various aspects of defensive magic," Professor Merrythought continued, her eyes briefly resting on us. "I encourage you to choose a topic that interests you both and to approach your research with diligence and creativity."

I glanced at Riddle out of the corner of my eye, unable to shake the feeling of unease that washed over me in his presence.

The class was over and I was quick to grab my shoulder bag that was lying on the floor. I was about to walk away when Riddle called me by my last name. 

"Meet me at the library after dinner." He said before walking past me.

"You got partnered up with Riddle out of all people?" Elara approached with a chuckle, clinging her arms around mine. "Looks like trouble is your friend."

"Haha. Stop that." I pry myself off her with a sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes. 

Elara laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she released me from her embrace. "Oh, come on, you have to admit it's a bit funny. You and Riddle, working together on a project? That's practically asking for trouble."

'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ೃ⁀➷-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-˚. ೃ⁀➷'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"I don't recall telling you to bring a vermin all the way over here." Riddle glared at the sight of Mr. Tibbers in my arms. 

"Hey," I said, feeling a bit offended as I took a seat across from him, gently placing Mr. Tibbers on the table. The cat meowed softly, looking around the table curiously. "Don't call him a vermin. He's my cat, Mr. Tibbers."

Riddle's expression remained as cold as ever as he glanced at the cat before looking back at me. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Whatever. Keep that thing away," he said, sliding a parchment in front of me and turning it so I could read it.

"What the hell?"

"What?"

"You're already done?" I said in disbelief, meeting his gaze. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend how he could have completed so much work in such a short time.

Riddle shrugged nonchalantly. "I work quickly when I'm focused. Besides, I had some ideas in mind before we even started."

"We? You mean you?" I furrowed my brows at him. "Well, next time, perhaps let your partner have some input," I muttered, unable to hide my irritation. "Riddle, the deadline is in three weeks. How are you so fast?"

He gave a slight smirk, acknowledging my annoyance. "Fair point. Let's call this a rough draft. Consider this a starting point. We can discuss any changes or additions you'd like to make and stop glaring at me."

I huffed in annoyance before reaching for the book that lay open before him. The soft glow of the lantern above cast a warm light on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As I pored over its contents, jotting down crucial details on the parchment, I couldn't help but notice how usually quiet he had become. The train rumbled beneath us, the sound of students' laughter and chatter faint in the background.

"Staring is rude," he remarked suddenly, his eyes still fixed intently on the pages of the book. His voice cut through the silence, startling me.

I glanced up, taken aback by his comment. "I'm merely trying to catch up on what you've already done," I retorted, feeling a touch defensively.

Riddle finally tore his gaze away from the book to look at me, his expression unreadable. "Well, you're welcome to ask if you need any clarification," he said nonchalantly. His voice had no hint of warmth or annoyance, just a flat, almost mechanical tone.

I nodded, feeling a bit chastised by his response. "Right. Thanks."

With that, I focused on my work, trying to absorb as much information as possible from the book. Despite the tension between us, I knew that if we were going to succeed in our project, communication would be key.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Letters to My Love” | Hanji x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan  Pairing: Hanji x Reader  Words: 4k 

A/N: This is a self-indulgent, completely unfiltered, messy little fic that deals with my love for Hanji. Ever since I started reading AoT back in 2015, I’ve had a soft spot for Hanji. My little ray of sunshine, one of my first comfort characters, the one character I could actually see myself becoming friends with in real life. Seeing her death finally animated (beautifully) brought a lot of feelings forward. She was brave and gorgeous and kind and absolutely amazing. It actually feels like I’m saying farewell to a close friend of mine. And so this messy fic was born, mostly unedited but with a lot of my personal feelings channeled into the reader’s POV. You can read this as either a platonic or romantic relationship, whatever floats your boat. I hope you enjoy the fic! 

Warnings: lots of angst, major character death, implied reader death, some blood and violence, struggling to cope with grief, post-war/post-snk 139 world, Hanji is referred to as female with she/her pronouns 

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AOT S4 PART 3 (AND THE UPCOMING PART 4) AND SNK 139! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ALL CAUGHT UP, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

It’s all so stupid. A stupid idea, a stupid reason behind it, a stupid man telling you about it in the first place. Why even bother with this in the first place? It’s not like it’ll help you in the long run.

But Falco’s still staring up at you with those big eyes, the slightest quiver of his lip, arms stretched out towards your own.

“Please?” His voice is unnaturally soft; it might be the lighting, but you can almost see a tear in those huge eyes. “At least try it, won’t you? I promise, you’ll feel better. Just like Dad says.”

You don’t have the heart to tell the kid his father’s full of shit, just like everyone else in this horrible world. Nothing’s left for you to enjoy, nothing you can cling to during the tough times. Those days are gone, the memories of bliss vanishing with every passing day.

But he looks so sad, so fucking hopeful, as though he still believes you can do it. You can lift this crushing weight off your chest with just a pen, some paper, and a few words every day.

“…Fine.” He practically shoves the dusty old notebook into your chest with a smile. “I’ll give it a shot.”

You’ll try, but you already know it’s a waste of time.

I’m not good at this. Writing’s never been my strong suit—not when it comes to other people. But you already know knew that, didn’t you?

Mr. Grice gave me the idea. Says writing everything down is a lot better than saying it out loud sometimes. Falco said the same thing; he still writes to his brother every other week. 

I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’ll ever send them, they’re just gonna sit in my desk collecting dust. But I told Falco I’d try for him. He’s a sweet kid, I can see why you like liked him. Sorry, it’s a habit. 

I don’t know what else to say. I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.

It’s me again. Onyankopon came to visit again. He checks up on me at least once every week. Same day, same time. It’s like he doesn’t trust me. Maybe he’s just looking out for me. That’s what Levi says.

Things are slowly going back to normal. He says it’s been almost five months since you left the battle. It’ll be spring soon. This winter hasn’t been too bad though. I miss the snow a little bit. Maybe one day we can go further north to see some next year. I know Gabi and Falco would enjoy it.

I can’t think of anything else to write down. I’m sure I’ll be back soon though.

Mundane topics. What you ate today. Who you saw at the market. The stories Gabi and Falco would make up whenever they were bored.

It’s all so stupid, but you write it down anyway. Stuff she’d like, stuff she wouldn’t like. Not her name, never her name. You can’t bear to say it out loud, not even spell out the letters without bursting into a fit of sobs. What’s the point, anyway? Not like she’s here to answer her own name anymore.

Still, you keep writing. Every day, at least something goes down in that little brown notebook. You’re the only one who reads it. Mr. Grice refuses to, says it’s for your eyes only. Falco sometimes shares what he’s written to his brother, but only when the two of you are alone. He has a little brown book of his own, same shape and size too. Always keeps it in the first drawer of his nightstand, same place you keep yours.

The days crawl by. Every breath hurts less and less. Slowly but surely, you wonder if you’re actually getting better.

I thought of you today. The kids wanted to stop in a bookstore during our shopping trip so I let them. They can be so eager and hyper when they want to be. (Why can’t they be like that when it comes to their chores?)

They both went for the bookshelf in the far corner. Books about the world; about weapons, inventions, plants, animals, experiments, I couldn’t keep track of how many there were. And the kids just sat there for hours, leafing through book after book. I ended up leaving just to drop off the groceries at home before heading back to pick them up. And when I got there they were still poring over those dusty, wrinkled pages.

You would like the bookstore. It’s on the smaller side but it doesn’t feel crowded. It’s got a few benches for people to sit and read for a bit, and there’s a café right next door too. But when I told Levi about it he got a little snippy; I think he’s jealous, his tea shop will always be superior.

He’s doing okay, I know you’re probably worried about him. His leg still gives him trouble but he’s getting better every day. He gave me a job after the shop opened a few weeks ago. Right now I’m just cleaning off tables and fixing up pastries in the back. Gabi handles inventory with Levi (she’s actually pretty good at it) and Falco takes care of the customers up front. He has the best attitude out of all of us, I think. The job is a bit boring sometimes but it beats killing Titans, using ODM gear, being a soldier

Never mind. I’ll write more later, I have to go for now. I’ll be back.

It’s really warm today. I keep thinking about that summer we spent in Krolva, in 848. You kept hunting for strange plants and flowers in the forest and had me and Moblit chasing after you all day! But you didn’t stop, not even when Levi threatened to knock you out and haul you back to base.

Sometimes I can still see Erwin’s smile, hear Mike and Nanaba’s laughter, feel the light summer breeze against my face.

I can still remember the way you said my name. I miss hearing the sound of your voice.

For the first time in a long while, you wake up with a smile on your face.

Your cheeks are stained with tears, still. You haven’t gone to sleep silently once in the past six months or so. Always stuffing your face into the pillow, muffling your sobs, praying neither Levi nor the kids hear you being so pathetic.

Your head is pounding, throat tight but chest feeling lighter than ever. You have to write it down, you don’t wanna forget, don’t forget—

The notebook is resting on your dresser. Your hands still shake when you reach for it, almost clatters to the floor when you try to pick it up. The pen leaps from your trembling fingers. The first words you write are barely legible, but you don’t stop writing for anything.

I had a dream about you last night. I can’t remember everything but I know you were in it and you were still alive smiling.

Still had both eyes, silly girl.

None of our comrades were there; no Levi, Moblit, or Mike. Just me and you, sitting on the rooftop of the old Survey Corps base, watching the stars twinkle above us. Your arm was so warm against my shoulders. Your messy hair tickling my cheek. You were laughing about something, I can’t remember what. But you looked so happy, so carefree and joyful. You haven’t looked that relaxed in years.

You whispered something in my ear, and my throat exploded with laughter. You held me close, lips brushing my cheek, eyes shining in the glowing moonlight.

You were happy, so I was happy.

But then I woke up, you were gone, and I was cold again.

Summer’s almost halfway over. The tea shop has been busier, Levi seems to enjoy the success. He’s still not very sociable but he’s learning to be more pleasant with the customers. They’ll keep coming back if he’s not rude to them all the time.

The town is expanding. Onyankopon thinks one of the nearby cities will start offering jobs, either railroad work or seamstress positions. A lot of factory jobs will start coming back too, and they’ll pay well. He says I could apply, just to keep my hands busy. Says it’s good to get out of the country once in a while.

Still undecided, I’d be going alone. Levi refuses, he hates the idea of city living, and he has the tea shop to worry about. The kids would stay with them; Gabi doesn’t like the smell of smoke, and Falco wouldn’t go anywhere without her. I can go, I don’t have anything tying me down.

What do you think I should do?

Four weeks left. It’s getting harder and harder to keep writing. I thought it would get easier, like Falco said. But I still feel that horrible pit deep in my chest. A weight that’s making it harder to breathe every day.

I don’t know what to do. I’m a burden. I can’t do anything on my own anymore. It’s always Levi or Onyankopon who’s there to hold my hand. Always Gabi and Falco to bring me back, remind me I have to keep living, to keep my head out of the clouds. But sometimes I wish I could run away. Leave it all behind. Maybe that city idea doesn’t seem so bad.

I wish you were here with me.

August 22nd. Two weeks to go.

Levi’s been quieter nowadays. Onyankopon isn’t as eager when he’s talking about the recovering towns and cities. Even the kids are more solemn than usual.

Still hoping this is all a bad dream. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be at my side, smiling and laughing like you do. Not a single care in the world.

The calendar is torn to shreds, left on the kitchen table for everyone to see. Gabi is utterly silent, a far cry from her usual loudmouthed self. Falco is quick to pull her aside as you storm past them, down the hall and into your room, slamming the door with a thud.

Burying your face in your hands. Chest wracked with sobs. Throat burning as her name rips itself from your mouth.

Hanji.

Stop it.

Your back hits the wall, knees buckling beneath your weight. Nails tear at the roots of your hair, scraping down your cheeks, eyes growing warm even though you keep them shut.

Hanji.

Another scream, you throw yourself against the wall. Your shoulder collides with the bookcase, but the pain doesn’t help. Nothing helps you anymore, not even writing in that shitty little book—

Someone’s calling your name on the other side of the door. Tiny fists pound on the wood; the knob twists and turns in vain. You made sure to lock it after coming in here.

Stop it. Can’t they see you want to be left alone?

Alone. You’re all alone now. You have no one left.

No parents, no children, no comrades…

And no other half.

Hanji.

“Stop it!” But you can still hear her name, swirling around in your head, a chorus of a thousand voices.

Hanji, Hanji, Hanji.

“Leave me alone!”

Something shatters against the wall. Your palm stings with something fierce, a shadow of red seeping from the skin.

The book, the book, where is it? Where did you put it?

There it is—right on your bed where you left it last. You’re scrambling over broken glass to grab at it, bloody fingers clutching the pen stuck between the pages. The tears are hot against your cheeks. Hurt like nothing else, not even the pain in your chest.

And they just keep on coming as you keep on writing.

Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go? Why did you have to kill kill yourself like that?

We could’ve handled it. Without your help. Maybe if you’d let us you’d still be alive with me. If you’d just trusted me—why didn’t you trust me? I trusted you, why didn’t you return the favor?

It’s your fault I’m like this now. I was fine before but then you fucked it all up.

Did you think you were some kind of hero? You’re not. Going out in a blaze of glory? Selfish asshole.

You’re not. You never were. You left me and now I’m alone and I hate

I hate you.

I hate you I hate you I hate you didn’t have to leave me but you did and now I hate you I can’t believe I love loved you how could I ever love someone so selfish fuck you so selfish

I HATE YOU

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DIE WHY AREN’T YOU HERE WITH ME ANYMORE WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU LEAVE TO MAKE YOU GO WHY WHY WHY

I STILL HATE YOU

Levi finds you hours later. Sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, hands trembling against your knees. The book is lying halfway across the room. Must’ve thrown it earlier.

He heaves a sigh, dragging his hand across his scarred face. And despite the ache in his leg he still kneels down to your level, taking a seat beside you against the bed. Wrapping up your hands in one of the spare shirts you tore from the dresser just minutes before.

“Brats were worried,” he finally says, and he sounds so fucking tired. There’s an inkling of guilt blooming in your chest. Such a burden to him, as always. “Said you’d run off and started crying.”

“…So?”

He rolls his eyes, focusing on your bloodied hands. They’re dry now, and he makes a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

Eventually he pulls you on your feet, leads you to the washroom and runs your hands under the warm water. He wraps up your hands in some clean bandages; over his shoulder you can see two sets of eyes staring at you from down the hall. One brown, one hazel.

“Quit beating yourself up like this. That’s not what she died for, brat. And don’t ask me,” he snaps when I open my mouth, “what she died for. Because you and I both know the answer to that. …So don’t make me say it.”

You’re still blubbering like a child, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, splashing onto the clean bandages around your hands. Levi sighs again before pulling you in close, one arm looped around your shoulders. His chest is warm, heart strong against your palm.

But it’s nothing compared to hers—and the thought makes you cry even harder.

“I get it.” His lips are warm against your forehead, hand cupping around the back of your head. “I miss her, too.”

You’re not sure when he makes you leave the washroom. But once he does he brings you down to the kitchen, giving Gabi and Falco each a pat on their heads. You give them a smile, tears still fresh in your eyes, before gathering the torn pieces of the calendar in your bruised hands.

Maybe you can fix this. It’s the fifth of September, after all. Not a day you want to forget just yet.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear on my life. I wanna rip those pages out but I’ll lose the other letters and I don’t want to lose them like I lost you.

I don’t hate you. You’re not selfish, you never were. I know you did the best you could as Commander of the Survey Corps, with the incredible weight on your shoulders. Your main priority was always keeping us safe and giving us hope.

I know why you left that day. But I wish you hadn’t left me behind. I could’ve gone with you, helped you out that day. We could still be together dead or alive.

I love you. I wish I could’ve said it when you were still alive with me. I wish I could say it to your face instead of writing it down in a dusty old notebook.

I love you. I miss you. I wish I could see your smile one last time. Hear your voice again. See the beautiful shine in your eyes.

Because I love you, and I always have. Maybe someday I’ll see you again and tell you face-to-face. Maybe by then I won’t be such a coward.

Hope you enjoy your birthday up there.

Every day brings something new. Smells, tastes, sounds, even the wind outside is different every day. People passing each other hour after hour, car horns filling your ears, the sting of smoke deep in your lungs; it’s easy to get lost in the atmosphere.

You take it in stride. Onyankopon is standing there, holding out his hand, ready to guide you deeper into the city. He’s offered to carry your suitcase but you insisted you do it yourself; too many memories are stuffed in between the clothes inside.

You suck in a breath and take his hand. A little awkward, with a suitcase in your other hand, and the old tattered notebook resting in the crook of your elbow. But the damn thing has already wormed its way into your heart, no way are you leaving it behind now.

A tight swallow, a soft smile from Onyankopon, as you let him lead you towards the next chapter of your life.

City life isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. It’s busy and crowded but it keeps me looking forward. No time to dwell on the past here. Maybe that’s why Onyankopon was so adamant about me living here.

There’s a bookstore here, much larger than the one back home where Levi and the kids live. It pays well, the owner’s nice, and she lets me borrow some of her own books from her personal collection from time to time.

She wears glasses too—not as cute as yours, though.

I try to visit Levi and the kids every other weekend. Gabi and Falco come to visit once in a while but Levi always stays behind. Blames it on the bad leg but we both know the truth. Too many bad memories of Mitras has made him wary of crowded cities.

But I like it. I have my own apartment, right next door to Onyankopon’s, with a balcony and a slew of potted plants. Onyankopon says some people like to name their plants just for the fun of it. The two sitting on the windowsill are Sawney and Bean. (You’re welcome, silly girl.)

It’s hard work but I’m getting better. I don’t dread writing in this book anymore. I can think of your smile without bursting into tears. For now I’m content to sit back and enjoy city life, until whatever god watching over us decides my time is up.

I promise to write soon; have to head to work now. I’ll be back.

It’s been a year since you left me. I still want to see you again.

Onyankopon and I are heading into town for a few days to visit Levi. He says he doesn’t need help around the shop but he never complains whenever I show up at his door. Sometimes I wonder if he feels obligated to put up with me. If he thinks you’ll haunt him forever if he turns me away. That sounds like something you would do, silly girl.

I had another dream about you last night. Right after the celebration for Shiganshina, the night before the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. We were laughing and drinking and sharing old stories—but we weren’t alone. Erwin and Levi were there. So was Moblit, and by some miracle, so were Mike and Nanaba.

I hope we’ll all be together again soon. I hope they’re all watching us, waiting to see what we’ll do with this new world we’ve forged for ourselves.

I know you are. You’re always watching, aren’t you?

I have to go now, or Onyankopon will head out without me. I’ll let you know how Levi and the kids are when I come home.

Miss you more every day. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon. Until then, I’ll just have to keep writing these silly little letters. I think you’d like them anyways.

See you later, Hanji.

It’s bright when you open your eyes. Too bright, a soft breeze kissing your cheeks, nose scrunching up as you shield your face with your hands. Funny, you don’t remember leaving the window open when you fell asleep. Or sleeping outside, for that matter.

You’re lying in the grass, a bed of wildflowers sprawled beneath you. There’s a forest at the edge of the valley, close enough for you to see the shadows of animals spilling across the trees. The sun is warm on your skin, so bright and beautiful, not a single cloud in the sky.

Almost too good to be true.

Is this it? Have you finally reached the end of your line? All those days with Levi, Onyankopon, and the kids, moving from town to city for work, seeing what little of the new world you could for both you and your other half…

Has your time finally run out?

“Hey, over here!”

Your blood freezes in your veins. A shadow crosses yours in the warm sunlight. A heavy cape blows in the wind, a dark green to match the forest beyond the meadow.

A pair of wings splashed against the fabric. Messy brown hair tied up haphazardly. Shiny glasses reflecting in the sun. Warm brown eyes that remind you of home.

“I was wondering when you’d get here. It’s been kinda lonely, I have to say…”

Hanji Zoe is standing right there in front of you, looking as radiant as ever. No scars or bruises to be seen, nor the black patch over her left eye. No burns or charred fabric on her body.

She looks…happy. Safe, content.

Alive.

“…Dumbass,” you finally find your voice, rushing into her outstretched arms. “You had me worried sick! Are you hurt? Can I do anything for you? I swear, I won’t let you go anywhere alone ever again! I’ll be right there by your side for as long as you—”

“Hey, hey, hey, come on now! You’re gonna make me blush with all that sweet talk!”

But you can’t stop yourself. And before you know it you’re sobbing into her chest, arms wrapped tight around her wrist, feeling the soft b-bmp of her heart against your ear.

“Love you, you know that? I love you, so please don’t leave me again…”

You’ll say it over and over, as many times as she wants to hear it. But for right now she’s silent, her arms resting around your waist and shoulders, tugging you in for a bone-crushing hug. Her messy hair is tickling your nose again, her smile could rival the sun in the sky. She shakes her head and lets out a laugh, before pressing a warm kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“I won’t ever leave you again, alright? I’m sorry about that, I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean to leave you like that…”

You hold her tighter, knocking her down into the wildflowers below. She lets out a real laugh this time, hair sticking out like a halo above her head, palms against your cheeks. For the first time in months—no, years—your chest feels whole again.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay…”

A comforting silence washes over the two of you. It’s so warm right here, in this little meadow of your own, surrounded by a thousand wildflowers. She’s finally safe in your arms, after all these years, and you are never letting her go ever again.

“…I love you, Hanji.”

“I know,” she answers with a smile that makes your heart soar, “and I love you too.”

[autisticlancemcclain]

I’ve really enjoyed your writing and I was curious to know if you ever experience writers block and how you try to drag yourself out of it? (I’m in need of advice)

thank you!! and i most definitely have omg. only rarely do i actually have, like, ideas for a fic. most of the time the hours are ticking past and i’m like FUCK i don’t have a goddamn thought pinging in my brain rn for tonight’s fic 😭😭 so i deal with writers block several times a week lol. i have a couple strategies for it.

1. this one is more of a future set up thing. over the weeks and months i’ve set up a saved folder where i use social media the most —inst*gram — and every time i see something that either reminds me of the blorbos or i think has story potential (which takes some time to start noticing, don’t worry if it’s slow at first, i used to add to the folder like once or twice a week and now it’s once or twice a day lol), i save it:

sometimes i send the post to a friend with a vague outline of what i’m doing, which looks something like this:

and screenshot that for later. this way i have this folder of ideas and one-offs to turn to when the well has run dry. it doesn’t always work, but it works enough that i think it’s worth the effort.

2. this one is less cool and suave, but when i don’t have any ideas, i try to just…write whatever. i don’t mean, like, write a random story, i just mean write random ass words and see what happens. i tend to work best with dialogue, so i’ll just type out a random sentence and see what happens, see what my brain does without me focusing on it. i’ll walk you through one of those now:

“Don’t.”

there’s a random starting word. just a single word. it could go literally anywhere, from humour to actiony order-barking, but i’m getting a bit of an angsty vibe to this, so i’m just going to pick a character — my beloved — who i’m very used to writing and can picture easily and add a dialogue tag.

“Don’t,” Lance warns.

okay! now we’re getting somewhere farther. now i try to ask myself one or two prodding questions: what does his voice sound like? can i hear him saying this in my head? who’s he saying it to? what emotion is he portraying? i don’t have to actually answer any of the questions, but now i’m thinking, baby steps, and i can get going easier, because i’m actually starting to hear this in my head:

“Don’t,” Lance warns, voice wobbling. “Don’t do this to me.”

from here i just see where i can go. one thing i have to remind myself is that no one is holding me to a standard but me. this can be two words or two hundred. a page or a novel. whatever i come up with. i’ll give it a fair chance, but if it doesn’t go anywhere, that’s okay, i’ll try again later. i try to just get into things and go. i’ll lean into what’s familiar to make things easier on myself:

“Don’t,” Lance warns, voice wobbling. “Don’t do this to me.”

Keith looks away. He has a hard enough time keeping steady with Lance normally, when he’s smiling, smirking, when he puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and teases him about his hair.

But when he’s looking at Keith like Keith has a choice to make? And he’s making the wrong one?

It’s almost physical, the ache. The pain of knowing he’s hurting someone but doing it anyway.

“I have to,” Keith says quietly. He clutches the strap of the duffel bag hanging over his shoulder, picking uselessly at a loose thread. “I can’t stay here.”

“You can.” Lance’s voice is still weak, shaking, but there’s something steady to it, a resolution. He’s sure he’s right. “You always can. You’ve never had to run.”

Keith says nothing.

“Don’t run away from me, Keith.”

Lance never pleads. He’s too proud. Keith pretends he doesn’t hear the desperation in his voice, for both of their sakes.

“I’ll call,” Keith offers. He looks up as he says it, but he still doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes. He’s afraid to see the hurt that he knows is there, the disappointment. If he doesn’t look he can pretend it’s not.

“No, you won’t.”

He says it like it’s a surety. Space is vast, time expands, and Keith won’t call. Keith is running away, again.

Keith turns around and leaves without another word.

that took me about six minutes. took some thinking, here and there, but it was easier as i kept going. i stuck to what i’m good at, remembered i don’t need any context for this (it’s just an exercise!) and moved forward.

i hope this is helpful! feel free to dm me if you’re still stuck, i’m happy to bounce around ideas :))

[moodymisty]

❀ Misty's Follower Milestone Event ❀

EDIT: Event is finished!!! Thank you so much to everyone who's sent requests or kind words, it's been a blast!

Wow guys, thank you!! It means so much to see people enjoying my writing (and my silly chatting), and I hope to continue making you all happy <3 Deciding to come back to tumblr was the best choice I made last year.

I don’t really talk to much about myself on here, but I'll give a tiny bit of backstory. I’ve had this exact same blog since around 2011, it's seen so many fandoms, but I purged it in 2018. After that I completely quit posting online; Until last year when my depression decided to come back hard because of some irl issues, and I ended up going back to Star Wars and Darksiders as a comfort. Posting again was incredibly nerve-wracking as it had been so long since I’d written anything beyond silly personal drabbles, but I’m incredibly happy to see even one person enjoy what I make. I have zero shortage of self doubt for everything I create, but even if it sounds cheesy, nothing makes me happier than knowing something I created has made someone smile.

But wah wah enough sob story, onto the event! A sentence prompts list! I tried to make a good amount of spicy ones, some sfw ones, and even one or two angsty ones. Feel free to take any sentence(s) or prompts from here and send me a character in my ask box! Or multiple, if it strikes your fancy? Any Star Wars or Darksiders character is welcome, and I'm more than happy to stretch my legs and do a character I don’t do as much, or haven’t before.

I'll accept asks for this for around the two weeks or so give or take, so feel free to send something in if you'd like!

(I won’t be using my tag list on these posts just to avoid spam)

All the prompts are under this readmore, to avoid having a super long post.

↳Sentence prompts

“ I can’t stop thinking about you. ”

“ You really need to shave. ” 

" I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me. "

" Where do you think you're going? "  

“ You should go. ”

“ You have no idea how much I want to kiss you. ”

" Never tease me like that again. "

" Kneel. "

" Sorry, couldn't sleep. "

" I want to do bad things to you. "

" Do whatever you want to me. "

" I want you in my mouth. "

" Quit looking at me like that. I know what that look means. "

“ I just don’t like the way he/she/they look at you, that’s all. ”

“ You don’t own me. ”

" You don't have to be gentle with me. "

" I'd cut out that attitude. "

" I'm not letting you out of my sight. "

" You really want me? "

" I, didn't know you liked that. "

" Ask nicely. "

" I can't stop thinking about you. "

" Want to sleep in my bed tonight? "

" Can you teach me? "

" Keep talking. "

" You look so hot when you do that. "

“ Can you help me? ”

" Um... I'm stuck. "

" Were you crying? "

" I hate you. "

" You're so fucking cute. "

" Why do you never talk to me? "

“ I, I think I’m pregnant. "

" You need to choose. "

“You're shivering... do you want my (clothing here)”

↳Scenario prompts

Needing something off the top shelf and needing to ask for help to get it down

Finding out they have a momento of you somewhere on them they bring everywhere

You or them saying a petname by accident

Soothing you or them after having a nightmare

Caught partly undressed or totally naked

Sharing food

Having to bathe together

Sending or saying something naughty to them during an inopportune moment

Accidental(?) flashing

Stealing a piece of their(your) clothing

Patching them up after a fight

Cuddling up for heat

Making them(you) blush

Giving them a nice (sexy) surprise ;3

Being given/getting flowers

Secret relationship

Reading together

Getting caught/catching them during a 'private' moment

And again, thank you all so much!!!

[underlockv]

No one really wants to talk about election stuff much I'm sure but I do think if you're going to claim voting for one candidate over another you do you diligence and actually look at what someone's done while in office. If you're serious about your political action, feel free to read further. Keep in mind I am not American, but unfortunately the entire world is affected by American politics.

I saw a post recently saying "hey I know everyone's saying theres no difference between parties at this point but its so important you vote for the lesser evil because of workers rights and environmentalism and gaza(because the other guy is worse!)" when if they had actually looked at what the person they insist is a champion of those things has done on those fronts I think they wouldn't be saying so (though for gaza they at least dont say he is doing well on that front, thank you for that at least , bad liberal politics post).

I don't like being a downer, and I don't like the idea of spreading nihilistic hopelessness, but if you shout from the rooftops a candidate or a party is doing wonders in these areas and they actually are not, that's misinformation. That helps no one.

Honestly the way certain people get complacent when they vote in the "good" party worries me greatly. "As long as I vote in these guys, everything will be done right! I can stop worrying and stop paying attention." And then those guys are doing the exact same stuff, but with polite language on top to hide the crime of it.

"I believe in workers' rights" as you quash a rail strike that is the difference between rail safety both for employees and communities near the tracks kind of thing.

Not like there was an environmental crisis over that recently? Oh but they paid a 15 million dollar fine (a company worth 48.87 billion, so a tiny fee to continue to criminally understaff trains overwork operators, and pay them nothing).

"Its a great tragedy what is happened in Gaza" as you bypass congress to send more weapons to Isreal. And to say Trump wants to nuke Gaza? He probably has said so, he won't because Isreal wants to keep the land habitable so they can have all of it. There is no "worse" here. The guy in power already signed carte blanche for Isreal to kill every Palestinian. If we can't reach Biden on this issue, it doesn't matter we can't reach Trump. In this instance specifically, there is no difference, If you're pretending Nukes are an actual option you clearly do not understand what is happening in this situation at all. This is fucking horrible and I feel like throwing myself out a window over the fact nearly every western superpower is supporting this genocide, but to state "oh, the other guy would do genocide HARDER" there isn't harder here. The most you can argue is "he will also do the same shit". Thanks, we know (also I will continue to do all I can to help Palestinians be it protest, mutual aid funds, donation drives, and vocal unerring support because I'm sure the people perpetuating this genocide would love if people against them did throw themselves out windows).

I wish people were more honest about their motivations here. And especially more honest about the fact they have zero idea on things the party they decided are the "good ones" are actually doing. It makes me feel like someone could tell you "I'm a good person" while spitting in your face and you'd look up wondering why it's raining.

Do I want Trump to win the election? Not at all. All he does is lie and self aggrandize and do whatever the fuck makes him the most money.

The thing is Biden and his party /also/ do all they can to protect the financial interests of their lobbyist backers, often backed by billion dollar corporate interests, this has been made even more legal by SCOTUS recently.

and of course whenever SCOTUS comes up people point to how trump elected these justices doing all this, while also ignoring: Obama had a supermajority while first in office and promised to codify Roe vs Wade into law to enshrine abortion rights and did not.

Why? Well. The only way that really seems to make sense seems to be 1) they didn't really want to enshrine abortion rights or 2) they wanted to keep dangling it just out of reach so you keep voting for them. after all, if they permanently protect women's rights, how can they send you fundraising emails about how women's rights are in question?

The Supreme Court should honestly have been reformed by now anyway, but neither of the parties that rule the United States will ever address it's issues. You basically have a council of sages who take gifts from billionaires running your ultimate law deciding station of government, and no matter what you do you can't fire them. And they are now making policy decisions that say specifically "you can't do anything about us being bribed" and "The president has total immunity while in office". Yet the party in power does nothing about it,

as for that second one you could argue not taking action on rulings they think are wrong proves they are better than the opposition, but saying something is wrong while doing nothing to rectify it says something else to me. It tells me they now have a great new way to fundraise and encourage you to vote.

"Vote for us, or Trump will literally assassinate you! Don't worry I won't though! But I'm not going to do a single thing to repeal it, my hands are tied haha. You wouldn't want the other guy to have this power though? Right? Again, no, I won't do anything to stop this."

>In before a liberal democrat tells me pointing this out is as bad as a vote for trump and asking for anything from a government is treason(I'm not American so good luck bud). Because we all need to sit around and nod politely as the world collapses, after all if people saw the corruption they might (gasp!) not vote! and then the same shit would happen faster.

Though, tbh, and I feel like shit saying this, at least if it was happening under the Republicans you would actually be paying attention and maybe the Democrats would actually be pushing back to at least look like they give a fuck (ineffectually, but it would be cool if you could point to a thing they've done in office effectually to contrast any of this other than say the right words. Actions actually matter).

I don't want things to come to that but as the public stands around doing nothing in the face of these abuses of power, war crimes, and dissolution of worker' rights and the party in power only campaigns off fear and does no positive things to gain votes... what other outcome will there be?

... and even if they did say they were going to do something good now... how could we believe it would actually happen?

[houseboatisland]

do you have a take on some of the unused c.awdry characters like barry or the austerity engine?

For the Austerity engine: Not yet! Whatever I come up with would essentially be an OC; there’s practically nothing to the “character” besides the class to build upon. I’ll keep working on forming an idea, though. As for Barry, here’s what I have so far.

A china clay twin surveys its potential prey, 1988.

As with all other BR Standards, the then-nameless Barry’s original service life was terribly short. He was one of the youngest ones of the 2MTs, built 1956, after the Modernization Plan was published. Historians have noted a stark contrast in personality between BR Standards built pre and post-1955: The pre-1955 lot felt incredibly cheated by their suddenly acutely finite careers, while the post-1955 lot were much more subdued and at times fatalistic. “We were built to fill a gap. Steam engines have been getting retired young all the time. What are you getting so worked up about? You’re not special.” (But the pre-1955 Standards DID think they were special. They thought they’d be the first generation of many to run on British Railways, and many had foolishly convinced themselves they were modern enough to never be withdrawn. But I’m getting ahead of myself worldbuilding as usual.)

Barry was an extreme case of that post-1955 line of thought: practically from construction he had come to terms with his eventual, inevitable scrapping. And he actually coped very well. He was a very serene and cool-headed engine in service, and many other engines considered his quasi-defeatist manner baffling at best, or at worst, insulting. But Barry’s hardly a talker anyway, so as long as you didn’t engage him, you didn’t have to be reminded of the coming end. So, many didn’t. Barry was virtually friendless among engines, though crews liked him, and he came to only care about that.

Barry goes for scrap. And waits, and waits, and waits. And rusts, horribly. Rust for engines can be painful. A baseball-sized patch may only be like having a pebble in your shoe, but to be covered in it is torture. Barry, who had been expecting to just roll into Barry Scrapyard and get scrapped on the spot like a lethal injection, feels… cheated.

1983. Hatt turns up to buy an engine. Or more exactly, sends an agent to find one for him. Sir Topham Hatt, with his reputation, couldn’t possibly turn up in Barry Scrapyard, or else hundreds of engines would be pleading with him to bring then home. It’d be cruel to them, and heartbreaking for himself. That’s most likely why the NWR has never bought from Woodham Brothers in the first place. But in 1983, where else would you go?

Barry’s purchase is a crapshoot. The agent sent by Hatt wasn’t a guy who thought for himself much, and he just followed the instructions sent with him to the letter: Get a mid-sized tender engine that looks salvageable. And he buys Barry after only sizing up all the important physical parts, (the agent may be gormless but is still a mechanical whiz,) and not saying a word. So, Barry’s discovery that he was bought for restoration rather than scrap metal by this silent man with a clipboard was… well, he couldn’t describe it. It wasn’t offensive or disappointing, (Barry couldn’t WAIT to die,) it was just a curveball.

Crovan’s Gate of course makes short, short work of his restoration. On many preserved railways, what he went through could’ve taken a decade or more. But Barry’s in working condition again inside a year, as if his decades at Woodham Brothers were just a nightmare that felt longer than one night’s sleep. Oh, and the agent named him Barry, again without interfacing with him about it. Fun times.

In service, Barry is painted dark blue with orange stripes, vaguely reminiscent of the SDJR. The Agent’s choice; he saw it on an old postcard and that was enough for him. (I’ll have to give Agent a tag, he’s too hilariously thoughtless not to write again.) I don’t know what Barry’s number would be, but it’s certainly not 12.

So, Barry settles into his new lease on life easily enough. …That’s a lie, he has so much to shove down and wrap his smokebox around. He’s still his serene, work-without-fuss, willful cog in the machine self, but he still favors the company of humans over engines, and is VERY MUCH a crew-pleaser. That said, Edward and Percy are his favorite engines. If anyone can make Barry come out of his shell, and maybe even get a headstart on developing a personality, it’s them.

[asterhaze]

If you get this, answer w three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog :)

Thank you for the ask! I have enjoyed talking about myself a little bit lately.

Serious: I also art! Though I haven't posted any of my newer stuff online because my tablet broke and some of my traditional work is stuff I want to eventually draw digitally and hopefully sell. I'm terrified of AI taking away my dream of being a super cool artist writer dream before I even have a chance. So yeah.

Silly Fact: I have a horrible phobia of mascots. It inspired a comic idea that I will probably end up writing about evil mascots that try to take over the world and cause the apocalypse. It's a pretty serious phobia that councilors and therapists have tried to help me with but nothing has worked because I've refused exposure therapy. There are some masks that trigger this phobia, but honestly it's mostly helmets!

Random: I only started writing seriously last October, and the amount of progress I have made this year shocks even myself. This is hard for me, but here is an example of my writing from last October versus something I wrote a few weeks ago.

October:

Glen stood beneath the willow tree in a small graveyard. He stated down at two small graves whose names had been worn away by time. But he knew them well and kept them close to his heart.

"Maria. My love. I miss you dearly, even still to this day." Glen began, going down on one knee to brush his hands across the grass. "I wish I was there with you. Wherever you are and whatever is beyind this life. I wish we could sit beneath our willow tree and I could tell you how much I love you again."

Last week - a longer piece that may or may not make it into a final draft-

“Now your suit really will be ruined. Your socks too.” But I have the money now to buy new clothes. Who cares, Maria, about suits and pants and socks and shoes? Who cares about arranged weddings? Who cares about any of that when you’re dead, dead, dead and I’m here, here, here? I’m still here, here, here… He reached out, brushing his fingertips along the front of the tombstone, weathered smooth by time. Faintly he could see the first letter of her first and last name but the rest was worn away. He traced the letters, very gently, before pulling his hand away and putting it back in his lap. Willow had cried and cried so many times sitting here before Maria’s grave. Mourning her, missing her, wishing desperately that she would come back to him and forgive him for everything and being left with only memories. The tears had dried decades ago, but the longing in his chest and the aching in his soul still remained. Now he just stared, his eyes glossed over, his lips moving without a voice as he spoke in his imaginary world where Maria was fussing at him for this, that, or the other. He knew he was crazy, or ill, or pretending, or at least that whatever he was doing was wrong but it made him feel better. Talking there, remembering things, it made him feel complete despite reminding him otherwise and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that people left him alone at the graveyard, let him spend however long he wanted there, or maybe it was because he was close to her again. Eventually, when a headache was starting to form across his temple, he imagined Maria turning to him and smiling. Still wearing that horrible dress that flattered only her body, sickly yellow. Maria fluffed her skirt, slapping it when she was done, before turning to walk away. Won’t you take me with you this time? Can’t we go together? I’m tired of living without you, Maria. Maria looked over her shoulder, a sad look over her sunshine eyes, as she sighed and turned away. “You’re too good.” And with that, he imagined her walking away and fading from his vision in a great glowing light that blinded him until he closed his eyes so tightly shut he prayed he would never be able to open them again. Anything else he would see would just tarnish it. Tarnish his memory of her, but eventually he did open his eyes, and there was all that was left of her before him. Faded, worn, and nearly falling apart. Here Lies M….M…. Loved Forever.

Tagging: @mthollowell-writes @rainisawriter @doublegoblin @gummybugg @veetvoojagigthemagnificent

[cyncerity]

Hi, I absolutely love your store shifter au and it gave me so much brainrot!! I’m borrowing a friend’s account for the moment because I can’t have a tumblr. Anyhow, I just wanted you to say that even if I can’t interact, I absolutely love all your ideas!!! If I understood the lore right, I would assume George is Sapnap’s younger brother and whatever traumatizing experience caused Sapnap to shift also took George away from Dream when they were young. Will Dream and George ever meet in person and if they met as tinies, would George realize it was Dream and what would he think of Dream having the pendant/braid? How would Tommy learn Dream was a shifter, and if one of them was tiny when that happened how would they deal with/would there be a language barrier? And how does Dream learn to shift back? This is much longer than intended, sorry. Feel free to answer parts of it or none of it, I just wanted you to know you’re wonderful!! And if this ask isn’t long enough, then here’s some writing prompts -a friendly admirer

“I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“My clothes. They just look so, so…”

“Yeah. Hard to believe we even fit that size, right?”

“It’s crazy.”

xxxxxx

"Wow"

"What?"

"Nothing... I'm just not used to

seeing you from this angle.”

"Yeah, I guess it's usually the

other way around.”

This is literally one of the most personal asks I’ve ever gotten solely for the fact that how you described being on tumblr is exactly how I was

I wasn’t allowed on tumblr, so i’d wait till everyone in my house was asleep and then pull out my middle school ipod as a burner device, look at g/t posts for an hour or so, then delete the google tabs i’d pulled them up on and fully shut down the ipod and hide it.

I lurked in this specific community for about a year, then lurked with an account so i could send asks for about another half year until i caved and got the app without parental permission lol (my dad had seen how tumblr was before the bad bots started to get banned so he honest to god thought this was one of those kinda sites but hes chill now)

suffice to say i completely know where you’re coming from and I love you for it 💖

Even if you can’t like my posts or have an account, just coming on here and saying you like my content is so awesome and it absolutely means the world to me 💕✨💖

As for you’re thoughts on the lore (and thank you for sending so many questions I love when this happens):

You’re getting close >:)

Sapnap doesn’t have any siblings, but as I’ve mentioned before (i think), Quackity does! And the event that sparked Sapnap’s shifting was similar to what got George taken in the first place (which could definitely be a reason that it was distressing enough to cause him to shift 👀), just on a larger scale and at different times. George was gone well before Sapnap became a shifter.

As for more on George, i’ll limit myself to what I can say cause there’s so much I want to write for him. At some point it’s my goal to write a story for him as a sort of interlude of the “dream shifted for the first time” story (there will be more parts! I’m working on them! Ngl this ask kinda made me realize how much I wanted to finish the second part of that) and have him fully explained there.

But I can tell you that Dream and George will meet in person! I can’t tell you if Dream will be tiny when they meet, cause you don’t even know for sure what species George is yet, but i promise the boys will meet! Will George know it’s Dream when they meet and vice versa? Who knows! That’s for me to know and you all to find out later >:)

Tommy won’t learn Dream is a shifter for a while, since Dream is stuck at the store. It also takes a bit of time for a new shifter to shift back to their normal size, since they’ve been repressing their capabilities for so long, their body has to stay at the opposite size to get used to it initially. Dream will be able to shift back at some point, but not without some help :)

And now that you mention it, there definitely could be a language barrier, and that could make things really interesting 👀 (im imagining Tommy seeing Dream tiny for the first time at a loss for words and Dream frantically trying to explain what he is but obviously Tommy already knows, so Tommy starts talking about being a shifter himself and he can’t hear Dream’s absolute shock and confusion at this information and can answer none of his questions)

And the writing prompts, YES, i am IN LOVE WITH THEM

If i don’t write specific things for them, they will be put into the next few stories for this au because they are such good ideas oh my word

and as a treat because i loved answering your questions and it made me really happy to get an ask that hit so close to my own experience here’s some miscellaneous Store Shifter drawings from my chorus class, just for you bestie 💖

i have so many of these for so many aus you don’t even know the half of it