#oh I don't have an ask tag for the tomb yet

[tojisbbygworl]

He’s Not Actually That Cool - Hobie Brown x Black!Reader

Based off of this post

Part 2 bonus bonus ii

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Imagine Hobie, the undeniably coolest person in the Spider Society, is a virgin nerd with a big dick

Tags: Hobie is a pathetic virgin loser, 18+, a lil smut, Oral (m receiving)

"How are you even cooler under your mask?"

"I was this cool the whole time."

A scoff behind the both of them. It's you shaking your head in your mask.

Hobie smirks at you. "Something funny there, love?" You don't say anything, just pretending you don't hear him and looking away innocently.

Hobie was the reason you were a part of the Spider Society. He and Miguel had captured the anomaly in your own universe with your help, of course. You knew Hobie had immediately took a liking to you what with the way he stared at you through his mask when he first laid eyes on you, frozen in place, color palette pink.

You liked him the moment he ripped his mask off when it was all said and done. He looked real good with his wicks, his sharp facial structure, wide-set nose and even larger lips. You actually believed him when he said he was briefly a runway model, emphasis on the briefly.

He invited you to join them and pulled you into the portal before Miguel could even say anything. You two have been inseparable ever since.

As you met more people, they all told you of their opinion of the man who seemed to be your best friend. Everyone says the same thing, that he's effortlessly cool and it makes him a little obnoxious. It always made you tilt your head.

You've seen the anime action figures in his room ranging anywhere from Naruto to Tokyo Ghoul.

"Oi, don't touch my things. You're the only person I trust to let in here, don't ruin it."

He's talked your ear off about the intricate lore of FNAF (he HATES MatPat btw)

You've groaned at how many times you've heard the name 'Afton' leave his mouth.

"So the place shut down again after the victim lost their entire frontal lobe"

"And that's the bite of '83, right?"

"No, that's the bite of '87. Thought I told you about '83?"

He probably did but he talked about it so damn much that you forgot. "It's cool, I'll tell you. So the bite of '83..."

This man is a fucking nerd but the BIGGEST misconception everyone has is that he's probably great at sex.

He has a reputation of "running through" everyone who wants him at the society...and yet no one has actually done anything with him. Everyone whispers about it, but no one has ever come out and admitted to having sex with him.

He's without a doubt your closest friend, so you asked him about it while you were chilling at his, watching him strum his guitar.

"So I heard you been running through the Spider Society like a tomb raider."

He cackled, "Yeah, that's what they all believe, innit?"

"It's not true?"

He shook his head. "I haven't got bottle, luv. Don't know what the bloody hell I'm doing."

"Oh really?"

He stopped strumming to look up at you, his smirk falling upon seeing your sultry and mischievous face. He grew a bit nervous, but was more excited if anything.

"What's that look about?"

"Would you like someone to teach you?"

He dropped his pick from how badly he was shaking. Hobie gulped and slowly nodded his head. You walked over to him and slowly lifted his guitar off his body, then pushing him back into the couch and sitting on top of him.

That's how this current make-out session started with you doing most of the work, taking off yours and his clothes feverously.

Hobie just sat back and let you do whatever you wanted. He especially loved watching you strip down to your underwear, blood shooting to his dick as soon as he watched your breasts bounce out of your shirt. He watched you pull your panties off of you leaving you completely naked and him only in his boxers.

He shifted in the couch to relieve some tension. You giggled at his starstruck face.

"You good?" You asked him. He nodded. "Do you need me to pull it out for you?" He nodded again.

You laughed, but was quickly shut up by his long, curved shaft slapping back onto his stomach. His underwear did him no justice, nothing could have prepared you for this.

He shyly looked away and bit his lip, not wanting to admit that he liked the way you gazed at it. It fueled his ego, but he didn't know how to tell you without stuttering.

He was actually shaking pretty bad, and it worried you. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah...I just..." he gulped and looked back down, his dick jumping upon looking into your eyes. Just like his, yours were a deep brown. Your eyes were furrowed in concern, and your full lips were parted. His breathing got deeper.

"You really want to have sex? With me?"

You deadpanned him, then leaned your head down to his base. Hobie gasped when you stuck your tongue out and licked all the way to his tips. Your played with it for a couple seconds, leaving him a shuddering mess. His precum leaked from it and you licked it all up reveling in the salty taste.

"O-oh..." he moaned when you grasped it gently and began to pump. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, so glad that he didn't have to imagine it was your hand beating his dick. He humped into it a little, and he looked so sexy crunching his abs that you couldn't help but to enclose your mouth over him.

"Oh, fuck," he exclaimed. He threw his head back up and gazed upon your form. You were giving him the sloppiest top he had ever seen, (he only watched BJ and missionary porn and you were much better than those girls)

God, he couldn't wait to get you under him and hump into you like's he's thought about for so long. He's used his hand, his pillow, he even looked up how to make his own flesh light because he would never be able to hide a real one from you. It was gross but fuck, how else was he supposed to get his rocks off? If he didn't do any of those things, he would have no control around you.

"Fuck, babe. Please keep going~" Hobie was drooling - actually drooling - out the side of his mouth. He panted and clenched his hands. You had to reach out and move them to your hair.

The poor thing panicked, he had no idea what you wanted him to do. He gently pet your small afro, more concerned that he was close to cumming down your throat.

You stopped and popped him out of your mouth, laughing a little at how cute he was.

You didn't notice how stressed he looked, him sitting up a little more in the chair. "Ngh, wait, no-" he whispered.

His dick bounces with each spray of his cum with him letting out a string of moans and curses as it lands on his stomach and chest. "Ffff...uh...uck..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you say, watching his fucked-out face. His head bounces with each deep breath he took.

"Why...did you...stop?" he asked in between pants.

"Why did you pat my head?" you asked, standing up, begrudgingly putting your clothes back on despite the ache between your legs.

"What was I supposed to do?" Hobie stares at your ass lustfully, feeling the blood rush back into his dick from how it moved.

"You were supposed to grab my hair and choke me with your dick, baby."

He gulps not being able to take his eyes off of you. "Oh."

You turned after putting your panties back on and froze. His dick was standing straight up again, the head glistening with thick white liquid. He stared at you embarrassingly, hoping that you would just come back over and kiss it.

"You could have said something before I started putting my shit back on."

"Sorry," he said, not being able to contain his excitement when you walked back over to him. His smile went away when you instead hovered yourself over his lap. His cum was still on his stomach and his dick. "W-Wait-"

"Yeah?" You whispered sensually, grabbing him again and pulling your panties to the side to line him up with you.

"I'm still-, I still have-, Is this okay?"

"I'm on the pill."

He starts getting nervous again, but he doesn't know why.

"You scared?" She asks.

He looks at her and rests his hand on her hip. "I don't want to hurt you. Or make you uncomfortable."

You giggled again. "I promise you I'll be fine."

"But, I still got my cum on me, babe."

"I know." You leans over to his ear and lick it. He shivers. "Isn't that so nasty?"

Hobie moaned as you begin to sink yourself onto him. You moan too, Hobie splitting you like you never imagined.

"You really want to shag a virgin?" He finally asked her, his voice wavering.

She rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "Virginity is a social construct. Don't be ashamed. Now shut the fuck up."

Definitely making a part 2 and a lil bonus and another bonus (ii)

Taglist is closed!

Masterlist

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Skin I Hate

Astarion wakes up from yet another nightmare but this one brings even more disgusting memories that he is used to.

TW: Mentions of SA, mild self-harm Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The weird perk of being an elf is being conscious when dreaming.

Non-elves are blissed with sleep, letting the dark void consume them for a night. Meanwhile, adult elves have to see their own past and re-live the memories in these few hours of meditation.

When it's good memories, it is a dream. When it's bad, it's a nightmare. And unfortunately for Astarion, his memories only fuel the despair.

"Here you are, boy," he hears his master's disgusting voice. "Such a handsome young elf you are."

Cazador is dead. It's not real. It's yet another nightmare that has come to haunt him. The old vampire was so pathetic he didn't even bother to hunt himself, fearing the only thing he could truly enjoy as an undead. There is nothing to be afraid of. Astarion stabbed him twenty-eight times, slaughtered him like a pig he was.

But nightmares keep coming, and there is nothing Astarion can do to stop them.

"You don't want to do this, but you are still doing it."

Astarion remembers everything. He doesn't remember his past when he could see his reflection or the sun, but his mind has preserved all the memories he wishes to forget.

The desire to peel his skin off. The dirty touches. The never-ending tortures and hunger. Sometimes, Astarion thinks this is the reality and the last two years are just a hallucination, an evil trick. Freedom, safety, a woman to hold. It’s all unreal.

Astarion is still locked in the tomb, isn't he? He is still in the kennel, flayed and beaten. He is still in his master's full power, doing every disgusting thing he orders.

… Astarion opens his eyes. He sees the wooden ceiling above him. He hears birds chirring in the distance - it's late afternoon, warm and sunny. Astarion can't understand where he is; the nightmare still holds a grip on his mind. The undead heart feels like a tombstone in the chest.

There is an urge to hide, run, and return to his master because the longer Astarion is absent, the more painful the tortures will be.

Then, he sees a set of armor, too small for him to wear. A travel sack with food he doesn't need, and a sword he doesn't know how to fight with.

Tav.

The realization resembles a lover's embrace, gentle and strong. It was indeed a nightmare. And this is the reality for Astarion. Freedom. A journey under the starry night sky. Days spent in shelters like this abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere.

And Tav's love.

Her trust, her caress. Her loud laughter at his jokes, her concentrated face when she takes care of her weapon and armor.

Their innocent mockery of each other. "Astarion, what does it say?" she asks, pointing at the board at the tavern. "Tav, I still can't apprehend how you lived up to being an adult without getting reading skills." "Oh, I am sorry I was too busy surviving! Not everyone is born in cities!"

His little brave Tav, whose heart is big enough for them both. His fierce companion who believes in him a hundred times more than he believes in himself. Her imminent faith in good, in people. In the chance, there is a cure for vampirism, in the idea that evil forces will always be defeated.

There was time when he thought Tav was just stupid. It took him a while to realize her faith comes from dark places. She knows the sorrows of this world no less than him, but she chooses to always see the light.

And Astarion chooses to be with her.

“Look what you have done to her”, something dark whispers in his ear. "She has to hide in shadows with you. If it wasn't for you, she could stay in the nearest village and sleep comfortably, but because of you, she has to stay here, in this wretched hole of a place. You are tainted with blood and pain, and you taint her as well."

Astarion tries to shut this voice up. But he can't. His own skin feels disgusting as if covered in acid sweat. His body is dirty. His touches are cursed. After everything he did, after everything done to him, after all these people he slept with, after everything happened to him in Cazador's mansion - he has no right to ruin Tav.

Astarion stands up, trying to shut the voice up. The hut is so small it suffocates him, but he can't go outside; the sun still shines.

"Damn! Gods damn you!" he screams, but the voice sounds hoarse as if he broke it in his sleep.

Maybe he did.

Nails dig into the skin, causing dull pain. Astarion makes a sharp movement, leaving deep pink strains on his left arm. Pain is pleasant and familiar. He keeps scratching the skin as if trying to peel it off.

Blood starts dripping to the floor.

The pain brings temporal bliss, and the sight of his bloodstained hand somehow comforts Astarion. Tears stream down the face - tears of desperation. Of darkness.

"Astarion," he hears a quiet voice. "Please, stop."

He turns his head and sees Tav. She wears her camp clothes, a pair of trousers and a shirt. Her hair is wet. She probably has bathed in the nearest river. Feet are bare and covered in soil. Astarion notices a blade of grass stuck between her toes.

Tav approaches him and makes him sit on the floor. He tries to drop the sleeve to cover the injuries as if it could trick her.

Tav gently touches his neck, avoiding the bite mark. Her touch is thoughtful, kind, and warm. She smells like sunlight. Astarion freezes, staring at the wall, not knowing how to look at her, not knowing what to do.

"What happened?" she finally asks. "I got used to your nightmares, but this is the first time you harm yourself."

"Nothing"

Tav sighs and stands up. For a moment, Astarion thinks she will leave him, but she just kneels at her travel bag and gets a healing ointment. He usually applies it to her after fights with monsters while she jokes, "You should see the other guy!".

The ointment prickles the skin and accelerates vampiric regeneration.

"Tell me," Tav asks.

He shrugs. "There is nothing to tell. Nothing you already don't know, just another nightmare. Tell me how the world looks under the sun."

"Astarion, you are my love and my life. But if you keep pretending everything is good when it's not, I will hit you with something heavy."

"You are so adorable when you try to threaten. Like a hissing kitten."

She laughs, and he can't take his eyes off her smile.

Then, Tav takes his injured hand in hers and caresses the knuckles. She waits for him to answer.

"If you woke to me trying to peel my skin off, would you want to know why?" she seriously asks.

He gulps. Of course, he doesn't need to tell now. Tav won't force him. He can tell her later when he feels more like it. Or never tell. It's his right for privacy. But it means Tav will be more preoccupied than usual, that the next sunrise she won't leave his side, that she will offer him her blood more than usual, more than she can give without complications.

Astarion can't do this to her even though he has a right to do so.

"I feel disgusting," he finally admits.

"What?" she is shocked. "Why?"

"I feel my skin is dirty, and no matter how strong I scrub it, I can't escape this feeling. I have done terrible, loathsome things, and the same things were done to me. Any time I touch you, I feel like I taint you, burden you with my own nightmares."

Tav is silent. Her eyes study his face. Is this remorse in her eyes? Sadness? Anger?

"Astarion. I am going to ask you a question", she finally says, "And you will answer it. You will not try to lie. You will not try to banter. You will tell me the truth. Did he force himself onto you?"

Astarion stares at Tav in disbelief. How can she know? How did she guess?

She touches his cheek, and it causes tears to flow again.

"Yes," he answers shortly and bites his lower lip. "Many times. Before he grew tired of me and sent me to the streets."

Tav doesn't say anything. Instead, she opens her arms and hugs Astarion, pressing his head against her collarbone. He can't see her face, but he knows there are tears on her face as well.

"How did you know?" he finally asks. "Tav … did anything… like that…"

"No, I was never assaulted. But every girl, whether she is an elf or dwarf or a human, a peasant, or a noble - knows such things. We are warned about it from a very young age. Even when it doesn't happen to us, we know someone it happened to. I think I guessed the moment you told me about your past."

"You disgust me," he remembers a cruel voice as if its owner wasn't the one who made Astarion disgusting.

She pulls away and kisses his forehead. "You are more than this. More than your trauma, more than your past. You are brave, smart, kind, even if you don’t want to admit it. I know what you are, what happened to you. It's a part of the deal. But please don't hurt yourself. If you do this, you continue Cazador's work. Because he would have mutilated you. The only thing he could not take away from you was your appearance, your face, your beauty. It was the only thing left from the past self. You can't see the reflection, but at least you know you look the same as 200 years ago. And your master needed it to lure victims. He couldn't take it from you without consequences for himself."

Tav puts her hands on his shoulders and looks at his eyes.

"Sooner or later, he would have found someone new, someone innocent to do your job, and he would have mutilated you. He would have taken the only thing you were left with. Every time you try to harm yourself, every time you hate yourself, you continue his job. I don't fucking want this. You don't fucking need this. The bastard is dead. You killed him. We can't change what happened to you. But it means he can't return either."

Astarion puts his hand on his knees and smiles. "I don't deserve you."

"You do deserve me, and I deserve you. There is no part of your body I find disgusting."

Astarion instinctively covers his bite mark. Tav notices it and gently removes his hand. She looks at the bite mark closely as if studying.

Long ago, they agreed he didn't want his bite mark to be touched, and Tav carefully avoided it. He couldn't know what this scar looked like but was sure it was repulsive.

And then Tav kisses the bite mark.

A shiver goes down Astarion’s spine, there is a forgotten memory of being bitten by a hungry monster who didn't know any better than to attack a weak, dying person.

There was a time when Astarion prayed to the gods to save him. Every divine creature he remembered – Lathander, Loviatar, Selune, Tyr, Savras – and a hundred more. No one answered. But what if someone did? He just needs to figure out which one is responsible for making sure Tav is born and survives through childhood, and who put her right in front of the Nauthiloid. When he does, he will become a man of this god.

Then Tav pulls away and looks at the entrance to the hut. "It's still hours till sunset. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?"

You don't need to do anything – the sole presence is enough.

"Сould you give me the book from my bag?"

Tav smiles and opens his travel bag. "There are two books"

"The green one"

"They are both green!" she pointed at the volumes, the cover of the first one was the color of wet leaves, and the other resembled a malachite.

"The one you like more."

Tav hesitates, looking at the covers, and then chooses the second one. When she sits beside him, Astarion wraps his hand around her waist.

"What does it say?" she asks.

"The History of the Western Heartlands," he opens the first page. "But you are going to read it yourself. I don't want you to be dependent on my reading skills."

"Oh", she pouts. "I knew you don't like reading to me!"

"I like reading to you," he says, "And I want to teach you to do the same. Come on, it's not difficult. I need to concentrate on something anyway, and teaching an adult person to read will definitely be a complicated task. I will read, and you will follow the text with your eyes, then I will ask you to repeat what I said. Deal?"

Astarion presses his finger at the first line. "The history of the Western Heartlands is a history of endless battles and destroyed empires.-"

Tav repeats after him. It takes them a few hours just to make it through the first page. He sees her anger when she can't remember a specific letter and almost childish delight when she manages to read the word without his help.

When the sun finally sets, they pack their bags. Astairon helps Tav to put her armor on, tightening the belts, and they leave together into the night.

"You do feel better, don't you?" she asks, walking a few steps ahead of him.

Astarion concentrates on his feelings. The disgust and fear feel like a distant nightmare, something he can easily brush off. Even the bite mark Tav touched so gently stopped causing so much mental pain.

"Yes. I feel great, my love."

[cowboybrunch]

writerblr interview tag!

thank you for the tags @tragedycoded (here) @sableglass (here) and @saturnine-saturneight (here) <3 ive been meaning to get to this one for a minute sooo let's get into it

Short stories, novels, or poems?

i started with poetry, so it has a special place in my heart. all of my short stories turn into beasts. is it a cop out answer to say all of the above?

What genre do you prefer reading?

it'd be easier to list what genres i don't like. when i say ill read anything, i mean ill read anything. lately i've been on a sci fi kick (thanks Pierce Brown) but i love a good modern trashy romance as much as the next guy (i read the booktok sludge so you dont have to!) im not really a nonfiction guy but hey, if anyone has some recs, ill give em a shot

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

def NOT a planner. usually when i start writing i have a vague idea of where we start and where we need to end up, but what happens along the way is a surprise for everyone involved

What music do you listen to while writing?

SILENCE. sometimes white noise. i cant focus with music, brain gets jumbled

Favorite books/movies?

of all time? oh god for books, probably This Is How You Lose the Time War or The Song of Achilles but The Locked Tomb series is def up there. not a novel but i've read Bluets by Maggie Nelson so many times i probably have it memorized by now favorite movie is Zoolander, easy answer. that movie owns. i can watch it on repeat and ill never get sick of it

Any current WIPs?

Dust to Dust is still alive but im taking a bit of a hiatus before hopping into the final bit (tag is here if you wanna see me ramble about it) Felix Wonder is the fun time brain break WIP of choice currently and im working on draft 3 of Burden of the Reluctant Death (we will get to the ending this time. we will)

Create a character description of yourself: 

Elusive, or pretends to be. Too much energy in too small a body. Refuses to sit properly in a chair. Prone to fits of melancholy remedied by sunlight. Easily excitable, but fussy. Same outfit every day: big sweater, little pants, fuzzy socks. Nails bitten bloody but at least her hair is clean (if a bit too long for summer)

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

i could say no but that would make me a liar

Are you kill happy with your characters?

i was gonna make a joke but it would be spoilers soo. i write about grief. no way everyone makes it out alive

Coffee or Tea while writing?

coffee. i dont like tea (sorry sorry!)

Slow or fast writer?

im very much a burst writer so. flood or drought, no in between. lately i'd say SLOW but im just waiting for that spark u get me?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

this really isnt fantasy but i feel like i was destined to be the kind, slightly off-putting maintenance man in a haunted apartment building that says cryptic things like "don't take the east elevator on a full moon" and "the air conditioning has made that noise since the fire in 12B"

Most fav book cliche:

yea there's only one bed and ill eat it up every single time!!! also: "i didnt know where else to go" or basically any overdone romance trope you can think of. im here for it

Least favorite cliche:

if there's a cliche that i dont like, i havent found it yet

Favorite scene to write?

confession scenes of any kind! scenes where the big tough character breaks down. any kind of emotional revelation, positive or negative

Reason for writing?

words in head, need words out of head ok ok fine, serious answer. i feel like writing is both asking and answering the question, "have you felt like this before? has anyone ever felt like this before? am i alone?" and it's proof that you're not the first and only person to ever experience the things you're experiencing. even this made up guy in this pretend world understands rage and despair and joy and grief and love. the source is different but the result is the same. human connection, man. love it and! it's fun. im having fun

tag!!

@knightinbatteredarmor @friendlesscat @tildeathiwillwrite @glassonthewall @illarian-rambling

@mysticstarlightduck @dyrewrites @sarandipitywrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @xenascribbles

[bennett-mikealson]

I saw one of your mentions about Bonnie, realized I really dislike the majority of tvd fandom & why I don't bother exploring the tags outside of Bonnie centered stuff for the sole reason that she is never even discussed in detail among the majority. She's largely overlooked in these anti Delena, anti Klaroline mentions & they somehow turn it around into the same old "xyz is the real victim here". Literally saw a post were they discussed all these third tier characters like Lexi, Vicki, Rose & some other irrelevant stuff in comparison to Caroline/Elena that basically falls in line with how their plots were ignored or done terribly (even though they WEREN'T & literally had more screentime/agency than Bonnie - a main witch character who served more purpose plot wise). Its really annoying that they complain about things that are fine & don't need fixing.

They will do anything to avoid talking about anything Bonnie related other than the tired slogan "Bonnie deserved better", which always sounds like a lazy fake attempt at pretending to care. & Worse, when actual Bonnie fans discuss how to write her plots better, those said stans try to cut down any theories outside of canon & say how it's unrealistic or some other tired excuse they never give to any other characters except hers.

See that’s why I can’t stand when Stan’s say Bonnie’s a fan favorite or say she’s the most loved character bc she just started to get her hype and even then she still gets an equal amount of hate. THB looking at how ppl talk about Bonnie outside of her Stan’s to me its like looking at another version of the writers. They see her as a plot device just as much as the writers and they don’t care about her struggles nor care to understand them.

For example when Bonnie ignored Elena after her grams died everyone was all like “omg Bonnie’s such a bad friend” or would think that Bonnie was blaming Elena for Grams dying when she never said that. In the show she even told Elena that she didn’t blame her for grams death. She just wanted space from her and considering how Elena was buddy buddy with the Salvatore her distancing herself from Elena was valid. But They don’t care about how Bonnie felt seeing her friend all lovey-dovey with people who caused her pain. They say “well maybe if Bonnie didn’t beg grams to open the tomb then she wouldn’t of died” (which is not true) but if Bonnie didn’t open the tomb then the Salvatore would’ve been stuck and y’all still would’ve been hating on Bonnie.

Same thing happened when Bonnie didn’t like Damon at first. Ppl called her annoying for being rude to the Salvatore’s when Damon almost killed her and he did nothing but cause problems. But ppl wonder why Bonnie didn’t like him. Then suddenly they love her in season six when her and Damon became best friends. Then it was “oh I love this new side to Bonnie”. 🙄

Even when Bonnie didn’t deactivate the Gilbert device and Caroline became a vampire; Bonnie was distant to her and Stans acted like Bonnie’s actions were unjustified and villainized her. Even though they knew Bonnie has had nothing but negative encounters with vampires before and had suffered bc of the presence of vampires so it would make sense why she’d be guarded with Caroline. Caroline‘s mother and father reacted the same way and so did Matt when they found out she was a vampire. They say Bonnie had no right to treat Caroline rudely when she is the reason Caroline a vampire even tho Katherine is the one who killed Caroline. Yet she gets praised all the time for making Caroline a better person. They even try to use the fact that Bonnie asked Damon to give Caroline blood against her and villainize Bonnie more when her intentions in asking Damon to save Caroline were pure and Damon didn’t have to listen to her. The thing is even if Bonnie did deactivate the Gilbert device in the situation ppl still would’ve gotten hurt bc the tomb vampires were ready to attack founding family members so Bonnie still would of been hated on for not “doing her job”.

There was really no winning for Bonnie at all. They just want her to do what needed to be done to protect their faves then go in the shadows.

It even shows when some Stan’s write fanfictions. Them time travel stories of Bonnie messing up a spell and it pushes Elena or Caroline or both back in time with the Salvatore or the Mikealsons; She still a plot device to Stan’s.

These be the same Stan’s that claim Bonnie Stan’s be trying to make her the main character or that we’re trying to steal Elena and Caroline’s shine when we make suggestions on how the writers could have written Bonnie’s character better. And like you said they always make it seem like anything outside canon is unrealistic or “outside of Bonnie’s character” when in reality they’re just can’t stand the thought of Bonnie being with their favorite white men. Just like the writers. 🙄

Also, sorry for the late response. I just recently got into tumblr more than before. 😁

[dees-writing-corner]

forever and more - chapter 4

word count: 2162

pairing: ateez x fem!reader

warning: some swearing? (I don't swear okay, but I can't imagine woo not swearing so.....)

if anyone wants to join the taglist just send in a message <3

a/n feedback and theories are welcome here, I'd love to hear what you have to say!!!

also, I'll be updating twice a week for a while because I've got some free time🤪

p.s. thank you @layzfeelit for being my beta reader 🥰

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previous

We've been here for about 2 weeks at this point, and I still haven't seen the whole estate yet. That's why I've decided to go on a little walk around the back garden while San and Mingi are at work. Rora Manor stood on a lot of land, some of it even going into the woods surrounding it. 

Walking into the back garden through the kitchen, I took a path that led to the right. It really was stunning. Seonghwa managed to get a lot done in the past 2 weeks. 

The best way to describe the garden was that it resembled a small park with open spaces, trees, flower beds and fountains. The whole shebang. I must say, Aunt Jenna did prefer the more extravagant side of things. 

About 10 minutes in on the path, I noticed some iron gates ahead and as I walked closer to them, it dawned on me what it was. 

It was a cemetery. There was a cemetery within the manor grounds. 

Carefully opening the gates, I walked into the threshold. Aaron Harper. Alice Jennings. Elizabeth Jennings. Ruth Harper (neé Jennings). These were all people I read about in the journals and letter. 

Pausing, I saw a figure wandering about near a tomb. 

"Ruth? Darling? Where are you?" He must have heard me walk up because the next second, he was staring at me. "Oh. It's you. Have you seen Ruth? I've been looking for her all morning." 

To my absolute horror, there were claw marks across his chest and as I looked slightly closer at the tag on his shirt, I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. Colonel A. Harper. 

Aaron Harper. I just walked past his headstone. 

"Are you quite alright? You're looking a bit pale." 

Quickly nodding, I turned around to get out of the cemetery. 

"Fine. Not sure where Ruth is, but I have to go, bye." 

Closing the gates behind me, I watched as the figure of Aaron Harper gradually disappeared. 

Jogging back to the house, I was slightly out of breath by the time I slammed the door shut to the kitchen. 

"Were you being chased by wolves or something?" 

Looking up, I saw Wooyoung standing by the island looking at me weirdly. 

Taking a few quick strides to stand opposite Wooyoung, I leaned my elbows down on the counter. 

"Quick question. Has anything weird ever happened here to you or any of the guys?" 

Wooyoung stared at me for a second, "What? Why?" 

"I'm pretty sure this place has ghosts." 

"Ghosts? What about them?" 

Seonghwa came into the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to me, intrigued by the conversation we were having. 

"I was just saying that this place is haunted." 

Seonghwa shared a looked with Wooyoung before turning back to look at me, "What makes you think that?" 

I stared at them blankly for a minute before pointing a finger out, "What makes me th- I literally just saw a guy who was probably alive in the 1800s with claw marks across his chest looking for his wife – who, by the way, then asked me if I saw her – before disappearing into thin air." 

They remained silent before Wooyoung just shrugged, "I mean, it's never happened to us before so, like, congratulations?" 

Rolling my eyes, I reached an arm across and whacked Wooyoung on the shoulder, "Oh yeah, just what I wanted, a ghost who was probably mauled to death go 'oh, it's you, have you seen my wife'." 

Glancing over at Seonghwa, I scrunched my face up in confusion, "Why are you in your full suit?" 

"I'm heading into town with Yeosang, you wanna join us?" 

I was just about to decline, but then remembered that there was a little shop that may have something I wanted. 

"Sure, I want to pick somethings up as well." 

Wooyoung watched as the car drove off before making his way into the back garden. 

"AARON! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE YOU DIMWIT!" 

A figure materialised in front of Wooyoung sporting a wide grin, "You called for me?" 

Wooyoung thwacked the back of Aaron's head, "Don't do shit like that with Y/N." 

Groaning, Aaron rubbed the sore spot, "I hate that you can actually touch me." 

"Ah yes, the pro of having a mother who practised necromancy. You catch on to some things. Now, quit trying to scare Y/N. She looked like she was going to faint." 

Aaron let out a laugh, "I know, she looked so pale. Just so you know, Joong told me to do that. He wanted to give her a little push." 

Wooyoung shook his head before turning to head back inside, "I think that just pushed her to think she's lost her mind instead of finding out the truth." 

Stepping out of the car, I walked beside Yeosang as we made our way through the town centre. 

"Oh! Yeosang, dear." 

Turning my head to the side, I watched as a woman around Aunt Jenna's age make her way over to us. 

"I'm so glad that I've caught you! I've found where -" 

"Mrs Hunter, why don't we talk about this over some tea," Yeosang looked back at us, "I'll meet you guys back at the car, yeah?" 

Turning my gaze to Seonghwa, he must've caught on to my confusion. 

"Mrs Hunter was a friend of your aunt's, she likes catching up with us when she sees us." 

"Okay, well, um, I'm heading to the bookstore, you get whatever it is that you need, and we'll meet back at the car? Though to be fair, you'll probably find me in that gelato parlour next to where we parked." 

Grinning, I parted ways with Seonghwa and headed to the little run-down bookstore around the corner. 

While there were other bookstores in the area, I specifically wanted to go to this one because the owner was a small, elderly lady who was very superstitious, so along with old books on spells and potions, there were also crystals and incense sold. 

Entering the bookstore, I greeted the owner with a smile, "Good morning, Mrs Stewart." 

"Hello, dear, what can I do for you?" 

Pulling out a piece of paper from my pocket, I passed it to her. 

"I was wondering if you had these in stock?" 

Pulling on her glasses from around her neck, Mrs Stewart held the paper up, "Sage, Palo Santo, rock salt." 

She hurried along the back before returning with her arms full, "Here you go dear. Are you experiencing some negative energies at home?" 

Pulling out my wallet, I handed her my card before placing all of the items into my tote bag. 

"Something like that. I just wanted to try this out." 

"Well, these will certainly do the trick." 

Thanking her, I left the shop and headed to the bookstore on the opposite side of the road. 

Sitting down on the floor of my bedroom, I stared at the items placed in front of me. 

"How the hell am I going to use these without looking crazy." 

As I mulled over the question, my eyes zoned in on the 4 large pieces of rock salt. 

"Hey, Y/N? Have you – Why do you have sticks on your floor?" 

Looking up, I saw San poke his head in, looking very confused. 

"In. And close the door behind you, will you?" 

San padded along the carpet and sat down across from me, picking up a Palo Santo stick as he did so. 

"I'm sorry, but what the hell are these?" 

"That is a Palo Santo stick, apparently, you burn them to get rid of spirits or bad energy or something, the same goes with the sage and rock salt, though you place the rock salt on the 4 corners outside of your house." 

San stared at me blankly before shaking his head, "Why exactly?" 

"Because it feels like the right thing to do. I don't know, but like this place is giving me a I'm-slightly-dark-but-not-that-dark-I-may-have-spirits vibe, okay?" 

San picked up the sage, "So what? You're gonna burn sage and paul-pal whatever stick all around the house?" 

Shaking my head, I plucked the sage and Palo Santo stick from his hands, "No, I'm gonna burn them in my room. I don't care if there are actual spirits in this house, I just don't want them in my room." 

I saw the corners of San's mouth twitch as he stared at me in disbelief, "You're unbelievable. Everyone else would try to get rid of it 100%, you on the other hand, just don't want it in your room" 

Handing San two rock salts, we started our way downstairs, "Come on, you're helping me put these on the four corners." Pausing, I looked at the flower beds Seonghwa planted. "Maybe bury them in the four corners. Seonghwa might throw them away if he saw them in his flower beds." 

Grabbing a trowel each, we started putting the rock salts into the ground, working quickly so that no one would see us and ask questions. 

That night, I asked Mingi and San to stay in my room, because as much as I didn't want to admit it, that person-spirit-thingy did actually scare me. 

After burning the sage, the three of us sat in bed for a bit just talking about our day, and I don't know if it was my imagination or something, but when I mentioned the figure I saw in the cemetery, the both of them just froze for a bit before they carried on with the conversation. 

We didn't talk for long though because I was tired from all the running and they were tired from work. 

Standing at a round table, I glanced around and noticed that Wooyoung and Seonghwa were beside me. 

Focusing on the table I noticed that there were candles lit, as well as powders and dried herbs in jars. 

Wooyoung cracked open one of the large leather-bound books on the table, "Okay, let's get started, shall we? You grab the mortar and pestle, Seonghwa, go and melt the lard in the pot, please." 

Feeling my arms start moving, I looked down, confused. I had no control over my body whatsoever. 

Bringing the mortar and pestle closer, I watched as Wooyoung added all sorts of powders and herbs into it. 

"Okay, mugwort, clovers, soot, vervain, you crush those into a fine powder, I'm gonna go and find the tincture." 

Grabbing ahold of the pestle, I started crushing everything. 

"Seonghwa." My voice was small, almost as if I was scared. "Yeo and Yunho will be alright, right?" 

I saw Seonghwa glance back at me, and although he was smiling, I could see the worry in his eyes, "Of course they will, it's just a pack of werewolves. Nothing they haven't dealt with before." 

"But this pack, they're different. They're more dangerous." 

Seonghwa glanced back at the pot before he came over to me, "They will be fine princess, plus, we're making all this to make sure of that, yeah?" 

Seeing me nod, Seonghwa went back to the pot. 

Once everything was crushed I went over to Seonghwa, waiting for Wooyoung to come back. 

"Okay!" Wooyoung entered with a small bottle in his hands, "Now mix in the powder and once I add the tincture, start stirring clockwise." 

Mixing in the powder, Wooyoung added a few drops of tincture. We stood over the pot for 10 minutes before taking it off the fire and distributing it into two jars. 

"Are you three finished? We will be leaving soon." 

Looking up, Yeosang and Yunho stood at the doorway, both adorning cloaks and satchels. 

I closed the lids to the jars and handed them one each. 

"Rub this on your palms or on your tunics before you meet up with the pack, it'll bring you into the air if you can't outrun them. Oh, and this," Reaching into the pocket of my apron, I pulled out two cloth sachets. "If your life is in danger, squeeze the bag and the guardians will help." 

Smiling at the two, I watched as they were about to leave, "And please be careful. Those werewolves. They're different." 

Groaning, San felt around for the blanket, but when he couldn't feel a body beside him, he opened his eyes. 

Upon looking at the sight above him, his eyes widened. Reaching his arm across the bed, San smacked Mingi in the face. 

"Mingi. Mingi. Wake up." 

Mingi squinted his eyes open, "What's goin- what the fuck?" 

Mingi's jaw dropped when he saw what was in the air. 

Suspended a few feet above the bed was a body. More specifically. Me. 

San looked over to Mingi, "Should we go get Wooyoung? Or Seonghwa? They would know what to do, right?" 

"No need. She'll come down soon." 

The boys looked to the window, where a figure stood with its back to them. 

"It's awakening." 

next

taglist: @marievllr-abg @jackinmyarea @lexiigom @nichobins @babyhailey819 @darkdayelixer @starillusion13

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Sorry in advance for any mischaracterization and other mistakes. Tag list is open if you would like to follow this story on here. Reblogs are much appreciated.

Masterlist

Chapter 3

"6th years, you've now managed to make it to NEWT levels," Professor Sharp addressed them all that afternoon. "Well done, I must stress that everyone pay attention, and assume that you've all done adequately the previous year to be able to take this subject. All of the potions I will discuss from here on out, you will be required to make and know like the backs of your wands."

Norah was reading along to Professor Sharp's description of the first potion they were to make this year: Veritaserum, which made the drinker tell the truth. Along with the confused hums coming from everyone else, Sharp explained that it was because today, in particular, was the start of the new moon. The ingredients seemed simple enough as she rummaged through her own stock of ingredients.

"There won't be any need to drink these potions, however, lest you look forward to a visit to the hospital wing or even St. Mungo's, so for your safety and everyone else's, avoid doing so. The grade for this will depend on what it looks like after 28 days."

She chuckled, looking over her own kit of ingredients when Professor Sharp signaled for them to begin. Carefully measuring each ingredient, she took her time in brewing the liquid.

"Psst! Norah!"

She looked over her shoulder, seeing Samantha Dale, the Ravenclaw she helped return a crest into her troll-infested family tomb. "Hello Samantha," Norah nodded. "I see you're taking NEWT Potions too."

Samantha was grinning. "Anyone ask you to the Yule Ball yet?" She said, keeping her voice low.

Norah shook her head. "No,no one's asked me yet. It's still quite a long way away, isn't it?"

"Yes, and no," The Ravenclaw replied. "But people are now wondering who might be the lucky guy who takes the Hogwarts heroine to the ball, you know."

Norah looked back at her own cauldron, quickly stirring the mixture until it reached the desired color. Sebastian, who was sharing a table with Norah as well as Amit, glanced at Samantha when she said it. "I'm not expecting anyone to ask me, let's put it at that. I might've scared them away knowing what happened last year," She mumbled, crushing two sopophorous beans with her blade. "What about you, has anyone asked you yet?" She turned it around.

"Oh no, but he will ask me soon, I know it," Samantha was confident. "He might just be waiting for the right time. I'll see him in the common room."

Sebastian and Norah tried to stifle their surprise when Samantha glanced at Amit, who was absorbed in getting his potion right. Or at least gave the impression that he was focused, as the blush in his cheeks became evident.

Norah bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. It was cute. "This is what hanging around Norah feels like, I'm getting more than I bargained for," He mumbled, the blush on his cheeks becoming even more visible.

"Amit is blushing," Ominis quipped as he carefully added his own ingredients in.

"You don't know that," Amit tried to shoot a look at the blonde Slytherin.

"I don't have to see you to know, and I know."

"You're lucky we're not doing amortentia," Sebastian quipped, making the two of them snort, Norah nearly spilling some of her ready made potion as she poured the liquid into a vial. "You'll be in trouble then."

They stiffened up when Professor Sharp approached their table. "I hope all the snickering is that you're all done with brewing your own veritaserums," He said, giving the side-eye to Sebastian and Norah, who presented him with her vial. "Well done, Miss Lee. You've managed to stay focused."

They sighed in relief when Sharp walked away. "So," Norah decided to change the subject. "Are we looking for our first table tonight?"

That made Amit look up in delight. "Yes! But..." His shoulders suddenly sunk.

"But?" Sebastian asked.

"But the nearest ones after the tables we found here in Hogwarts are in the Forbidden Forest," Amit frowned. "I hate to think of what we might encounter in that forest at night."

"You say that like you didn't fight goblin loyalists with me in that mine, Amit," Norah raised a brow. "You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for. And besides, you're not looking for those tables on your own. If anything happens, we can handle ourselves."

Even though it wasn't directed at him, Sebastian felt assured by her words. It was true after all. The previous year tested her relationship with each of them like no other, and certainly proved that they were going to be lifelong friends. Amit also seemed assured, yet still wary about heading into another adventure with Norah after the mine incident.

"Not every goblin is bad. I've come across quite a few of those goblins last year, helped them with missing art carts and mooncalves. They love life and beasts just as much as we do," Norah remembered those moments fondly, smiling to herself as she cleared out her cauldron by pouring the remaining contents of her potion into one other vial to have in handy. If only Ranrok spared his own brother, they would've met again for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks by now, celebrating thwarting Ranrok's plan, she thought.

That made Amit mutter something that they were sure was him wanting to improve on his Gobbledegook. "Well, Lodgok was one of the nice ones," The Ravenclaw glanced at her.

The mention of Lodgok made Norah think about something she thought of doing now that she was back. Once class was dismissed, Norah cleared out her cauldron and left the room, focused on what she was thinking. It took her a week or so to finally learn how to apparate, with some help from Professor Weasley and practice from Poppy and Natty. In a flash, she was at a mausoleum at the Hogsmeade graveyard.

Professor Fig's grave was next to his late wife's, and next to his late wife's was the grave of the goblin Lodgok. Norah had gotten some flowers nearby, carefully placing some on each grave stone. She immediately wiped the tears that quietly fell down her cheeks as she stood back up. Each time she wiped her cheeks, more tears came out, as if her grief had only caught up to her now, the sadness finally sinking in.

"I'm pretty sure the three of them would've been proud of you, for finally putting an end to Ranrok and for discovering what they worked for."

Norah didn't want to look over at the Three Broomsticks barkeep herself, Sirona Ryan, standing a few paces behind her. Her eyes were likely so puffy already. Sirona knew the goings on in Hogsmeade and was perhaps one of the most-liked shopkeepers in all of the village.

"You think so?" Norah sniffled and wiped her face with the tea towel Sirona handed her.

"At least I know Lodgok would and Professor Fig too."

With a wave of her wand, Norah made sure to clean the tea towel she used before handing it back to Sirona. "I hope so."

Sirona patted her shoulder. "You're in need of butterbeer, dear. Come, we'll raise a pint to them," She offered. "And if it's any further consolation, several people would want to be there for you right now."

When they entered the Three Broomsticks, Norah was met with the faces of her friends, all of whom seemed relieved. Yet, even with their concern, they each had pints of butterbeer in their hands. Much like her, they were already dressed quite casually, with Amit being especially excited. "We figured you'd be back there again," Sebastian got up from the stool and approached her.

"What do you mean?" Norah raised a brow at him.

"Whenever you suddenly leave without saying anything, we know it's you going back to the mausoleum to visit Professor Fig and his wife, and Lodgok," Sebastian pointed out, handing her a pint of the drink Sirona just poured out.

"This has apparently been a habit of yours, hmm?" Sirona said with a knowing smile. "I've been hearing Timothy Teasdale call you all sorts of nicknames. At first I thought you were just hanging about again, possibly shopping for more fertilizer from him. Apparently, he's seen you go into the graveyard and the mausoleum twice, three times a month."

"The Troll-Slayer," Natty chimed in.

"The Absconder Assassin," as did Poppy.

"The Hogwarts Heroine," same went for Amit.

"The Mongrel Murderer," Ominis piped up with a grin.

"The Dugbog Dropper," Sebastian added.

"The Bane of the Poachers' Existence" Natty said again, making them laugh.

"I must ask who calls me those last three names," Norah's brows furrowed at the absurdity of the names. Yet, it did bring some levity to how she was feeling. All of them laughed.

"Well then, shall we raise a glass?" Natty steered the topic back, raising her own pint of butterbeer. "To Lodgok, to Professor Fig, and to his wife, Miriam," she said. "But also, to Norah."

"To Norah!" The rest of them cheered as they clinked their drinks before taking a sip.

Norah sipped the warm drink, already feeling a lot better. Yet, the last moments of her and Professor Fig kept playing in her mind. The last moments of her and Lodgok in that mine. She made her choice, and she hoped she could stand by it until she couldn't. It was becoming more clear that it would be insulting to their memories if she continued with the choice she made at the caverns. Norah could only hope it wasn't too late.

If only she could access the caverns again. But how would she do it? Only the keepers seemed to know how to do it. Now, she would practically be considered one herself.

"Norah?" Sebastian's voice suddenly snapped her out of her thoughts. "You okay?"

She glanced at their expectant faces. "Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking about heading to our first astronomy table outside Hogwarts," She tried to explain.

The rest of them exchanged looks. "You were staring so intently at your butterbeer," Natty pointed out. "We've all agreed, Amit, we're going to the tables in the Forbidden Forest."

"In that case, I'd like to remind all of you to be careful. There are still people and creatures there that don't take kindly to witches and wizards. Even ones that did some good," Sirona eyed each of them.

After another round of butterbeer, they sought to walk back, but not before they stopped by 's for extra stocks on certain potions. After Norah told them what to arm themselves with, they sought to do just that. While they each had an idea of what she had been up to whenever they weren't with her, Norah filled the blank spaces of the stories they knew. At least most of the blank spaces.

Unsurprisingly, Amit offered to write those escapades in a book.

"I will say it was a good idea to have this incredibly miniscule satchel," Amit was referring to what looked like clutch purses on each of them. The purses were enchanted to hold anything and everything no matter the size. "I love being a wizard. If we were muggles, we'd be bringing a lot."

"Yeah, I was wondering how many Chinese chomping cabbages I could fit in here," Poppy looked inside hers.

When they finally stopped in front of the entrance of the forest, they exchanged looks. "So the search begins," Sebastian said, while Norah cast lumos with her wand to lead the way. "The first table should be nearby."

"I'm not too keen on climbing up those rocks," Ominis frowned.

"You'll be fine. We'll lift you up if we need to," Natty assured him.

The six of them walked down the dark path, with Norah's and Sebastian's wands the only ones illuminated so as not to draw too much attention to themselves. They didn't have much time until they had to return for curfew. They trekked up the small hill, with Norah standing by Ominis in case his wand didn't pick up the land they were treading on.

"Can you hear that? I hear a low humming, it's coming from that stream over there," Ominis said, his head tilting toward the direction he heard it from.

"Just a dugbog, Ominis, it's alright," Norah assured him. "It's not going to get us from up here. Amit, you might as well get on with it."

"Gladly," the Ravenclaw clambered up to where the table was and set up his telescope. "Wow!"

The rest of them set up a little blanket to sit down on, with Norah bringing in a few sandwiches and snacks from the kitchens for them to eat while they waited for Amit to finish stargazing. From all of them, only Amit took NEWT-level Astronomy.

"So, my mother is excited for the Yule Ball," Natty glanced at the girls. "She wants to take me shopping for a nice dress. Do you two have something to wear?"

Poppy hummed. "Not yet, but my gran was excited when I told her."

Norah shook her head. "I guess I'll figure it out, won't I? Maybe look through what I have. It's all in the room."

"Did anyone ask you yet?" Natty looked especially excited upon asking. "I know two boys who have been arguing in our common room to see who gets to ask you first."

"Please tell me they're doing that as a joke," Norah said.

The Gryffindor girl laughed. "Norah, lighten up. Amit's not the only one among us who's getting a date to the ball. What about the two of you?" She turned to Sebastian and Ominis.

"Well we'll see, won't we?" Sebastian quipped, taking a big bite into the sandwich he had.

"Adelaide Oakes and Nellie Oggspire are waiting," Norah teased, remembering the fleeting comments the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls made when they talked to her. The two Slytherin boys shrugged it off. Natty and Poppy laughed.

Norah smiled to herself as she ate the rest of her sandwich, glancing at Amit, who was frantically trying to fill out his star chart - a new one after filling up his other chart. No doubt that Sebastian and Ominis would have girls fawning over them by now. She was also sure that Natty and Poppy each had admirers of their own.

Her mind drifted back to what she planned on doing in the map chamber. It needed to be a priority, at least for her. A chance to make things right. She wouldn't have time to think about boys and who might be interested in her and who she might be interested in, not that there were many. But a glance at Sebastian and Ominis seemed to make a convincing argument that yes, she did have time.

"So, Norah, between Garreth or Leander, who would you want to ask you to the Yule Ball?" Natty pressed, almost making the Slytherin girl spit out her sandwich, cheeks tinged pink.

"Why did I know it was the two of them?" She muttered, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Natty and Poppy laughed, while Sebastian let out a snort. "I don't know. They seem like nice boys, though."

"If I recall correctly, Weasley made you go to Honeydukes for him and you bested Prewett in Summoner's Court and in Crossed Wands," Sebastian pointed out. "And Prewett still thinks of asking you to the Yule Ball?"

"And what about it?" Natty raised a brow at him. "Leander's a nice boy, he's just a sore loser at times."

Norah smiled. "Maybe I'd consider it. He showed me around the greenhouses too during my first Herbology class."

"You would consider going with Prewett or Weasley?" Ominis suddenly asked.

"It's not like-" Norah wanted to say something, but she bit her lip. "Never mind. I don't think what happened to me in those caverns made me any prettier or something. I wouldn't be surprised if I scared boys away."

"We're still here, aren't we?" Sebastian said. "Even Amit."

"No one would be surprised if the two of you were friends with me one bit, though," Norah side-eyed him, and he nodded knowingly. "Besides, you like to live your life on the edge," She teased. "Not sure about Ominis."

"My last name already gives off danger," the blonde boy retorted.

"That is true too," The three girls nodded.

Amit cleared his throat. "Alright, I'm unfortunately done. The sky is so beautiful tonight," He sighed, helping himself to the last remaining sandwich. "The stars are out there, as clear as ever."

"It's quiet too..." Norah muttered, looking up. "If I could just stop time for a moment, just not think about what lies ahead of me, that would be really nice..."

She felt her eyes suddenly feel a little prickly, tears threatening to come out. Not now, she thought. No one must see her like this, she kept thinking to herself. "We should probably go back to the castle now, before the prefects go on their rounds again and we'll get caught," Ominis suddenly suggested, making her glance at his direction. They knew this was to remind Sebastian not to get himself in detention so early in the year.

"The next table we can find is further into the forest, Amit," Poppy reminded the Ravenclaw male.

"It's okay, I'm not completely terrified now that I'm certain we all go there together," He said, with renewed confidence as they gathered their things and one by one, made their way down.

[neurodivergantizzetwitch]

intro post :3

hiii! im [insert name here]: a stereotypical AuDHD trans girl who still hasn't settled on a name yet-- my life isnt... going well rn, but tumblr makes it a bit more bearable and every little bit helps.

im a trans fem, more specifically i like the term demigirl- which feels like it fits me. im also ace(ish), by which i mean im ace but pretty sex favorable- just don't experience sexual attraction. im also very gay and have the best partner in the whole entire universe (they said they were gonna join tumblr soon- so ill at them here once she does.)

oh yeah and my brain is funky. im a peer reviewed (and officially dxed, but im an advocate of self diagnosis) AuDHDer- which informs basically everything i do. i also have a bunch of the mental illness stuff, and have struggled w it a lot. idrk or care what the exact diagnosis is, spend enough time around insane ppl and you learn a lot of the specific labels are pretty arbitrary and a lot of symptoms are shared- i just describe myself as fucked in the head or legitimately insane

also im never consistent w tags- sorry. maybe one day ill try to be but uh... yeah not today. i do tag for potentially triggering content tho- and try my best to be consistent w it, so if you're sensitive to the following and want to follow me for some weird reason id reccomend blocking them:

#cw sex mention, #cw: substance abuse, #cw: abuse #cw: child abuse, #cw: gore, #cw: sh, #cw: si, #cw: disordered eating, #cw: bigotry, #cw: disturbing content,

id also say in accordance w the previous thing i sometimes say things about my life that are "dark" in a way that can cross a line, i don't mean to do this- and i want to respect everyone's boundaries- but accidentally sharing super dark shit is smth i struggle w.

im a committed anarchist, and i will unabashedly post in accordance w those views. i haven't been able to help people as much as id like to bc of the whole being a minor in a fucked up situation with no money energy or time thing, but im trying to do more. If anyone reading this has suggestions- lmk.

i also like a lot of shit. like A LOT of shit- and i get REALLY obsessed w it too, so it is not out of character for me to start posting a bunch about smth i had not known existed until i got obsessed (as mentioned, AuDHDer). what ill post about is just kinda based on what im feeling that day and my interests, but heres some of my favorite things that im enamored w in no particular order:

games:

mtg

minecraft

hermitcraft (which yes is minecraft and no isnt a game but shut up)

hollow knight / skilkskong 🤡

celeste

metroid

nitw

botw

hades

books

cosmere

the locked tomb

percy jackson

the sandman

six of crows

the hunger games

lotr

spec fic, especially non-traditional spec-fic

shows/movies

spiderman across the spiderverse

made in abyss

hazbin hotel

hunter x hunter

the owl house

Pan's Labyrinth (& other Guillermo movies)

miyazaki movies

wes anderson movies

animated movies & shows

cinematic/classic movies (not neccessarily old just like the literary fiction genre of movies)

weird/offbeat movies and shows

music

coheed and cambria

mcr

jhariah

girl in red

will wood

pinkshift

jack off jill

paramore

mother mother

the cure

chloe moriando

bauhaus

cardiacs

dead kennedys

lena raine

siouxsie & the banshees

milk in the microwave

mitski

penelope scott

sungazer

45 grave

other interests/hobbies n shit

drawing

d&d

writing

painting

guitar

bass

drums

singing

music production

game design

coding

animation

character design

video production

poetry

theater (yes im a fucking theater kid did you even have to ask that)

musicals

even though im solidly gen z, i havent really grown up on the internet the same way. some weird combination of my parents' disapproval of it, social anxiety, autism, and not being allowed to use it for years means that ive had this fear of posting stuff on the internet. for so many people like me the internet has been a place to escape and be themself, to me it's more often than not just a reflection of a reality that seems just as scary and ostracizing.

the thing is... i dont have a lot of friends. i dont have a large community really. and i think though there are some ways in which my aversion to social interactions including those on the internet has been helpful, there are other ways it's really isolated me- both from my peers and a broader community of people.

so im trying to put myself out there a little more. this stupidly long intro post is i think just a way for me to commit to that for myself. ive been so scared of doing it all my life, right now i think i just need some sort of outlet to be myself. who knows? maybe i'll even meet some new friends.

[ghostmartyr]

/clears throat/ so, Immi, I hear you like the locked tomb, which is fantastic! from one person also escaping the snk series into TLT to another, what did you think of the characters and plot in HtN? are there any things you're most excited to see when Alecto comes out in 2022?

-pats lifeboat- This baby can fit so much trauma.

SPOILERS, naturally.

With another paragraph informing the curious that unspoiled is the way to go into HtN, since if you aren’t lost and confused, are you really reading Harrow the Ninth?

I read it all in one day, and that was a choice. It does mean my memory and understanding of what all went on is slightly dependent on someone else on the internet exploding over a particular set of paragraphs and explaining their significance to me, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

HtN disappointed me on one front in that I was hoping seeing more of Harrow 1.0 would help out any future fic endeavors. On everything else, like the first one, being told the story is such a good time that I’m willing to wait on a full comprehension of where it’s going.

I also really like second person.

What I loved most about HtN is how even without Gideon mentioned until very, very late in the book, you can feel her absence everywhere. In the wrong bubble flashbacks you’re commanded to examine the strangeness, but even in Harrow going about her day, the isolation and the wrongness of it decorate her every action. She’s alone, and she shouldn’t be, and the loss she’s unaware of bleeds into a constant echo of grief.

I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated absence as a narrative tool so much. Obviously griddlehark hours go hard once they start in HtN, but even before then, there is so much power to their connection that looking into a world where it never exists still manages to punch you in the heart with how much each one inhabits everything the other is.

The whole series is amping me up with a few thoughts on loneliness, honestly. Gideon and Harrow grow up alone on the Ninth, save for each other. It takes leaving for that to be any kind of good thing. The first book is tag team Among Us with everyone in their little clusters, slowly learning what other people are about as they all drop dead.

The second book has a different vibe and different plot things going on, but it’s similar in that the protagonist gets thrown into a world they don’t fit and have to put on a show. Only now there are even fewer people to familiarize with, with that number correlating directly to how they all killed the person closest to keeping them from being alone.

Lyctorhood is taking the person dearest to your heart and trapping them there forever while they’re stripped of everything that made them who they are.

...Also Ianthe is there.

Gideon, Mercy, and Augustine are the last Lyctors standing after 10,000 years. There were only seven, starting out. Sixteen acolytes who came to the First. The only pair who didn’t succeed in condensing themselves is separated from the pack and sent to live away from their peers on a tiny planet that no one has anything good to say about.

Alecto is John’s -- who even knows, past A Lot, and he puts her to sleep and locks her in a prison no one but he can get past.

God has seven friends. More if you want to count the people in the Cohort, but realistically, he has seven friends. Then they keep dying.

Harrow spends HtN in a spaceship with five people.

One is trying to kill her.

One ordered that one to try to kill her.

Two could not care less about the useless baby Lyctor.

One is Ianthe.

There is no real endgame. There is surviving life, and life has become a game of running as far away as possible so you don’t share your ruin upon your inevitable death.

It’s bleak and sad.

Harrow’s healthiest relationships are with dead people, and some of them she didn’t know at all in life.

Reiterating it, the most plot significant bit of the world is finding someone else in the world, swearing yourself to them, and smashing your souls together until you’ve lost the connection entirely.

My brain’s not in the best place so I can’t do more than gesture loudly at it, but a few people have mentioned that the series’ thesis is a counter to Ianthe’s statement that love is acquisitive.

Harrow tightens her hold around Gideon until Gideon would rather she just strangle her and get it over with, all things considered. It fucks them both up, and when they start working to get past it, circumstance wraps a chain around both their throats.

The necromancers who become imperfect Lyctors have all acquired their cavaliers, and besides the cav, it kills that bond.

Harrow’s rejection of that is why Gideon’s soul is still in the world of the living (and John blood).

She has spent her entire life eating pieces of Gideon to keep herself a horrid imitation of whole, and when she is finally offered that, she refuses.

Grief and how Harrow just can’t are active elements of the book, and Magnus gives her more therapy in five minutes talking about it than she has ever had in her life, but the reason why that isn’t the end of Gideon is because, unlike all the other Lyctors, Harrow turns the offer down.

With the exception of Babs and Ianthe, the relationship between cavaliers and necros about to do the Lyctor thing is cavaliers promising to burn for an eternity while their necromancer lives off the fumes.

Fuck that is Harrow’s response.

Cytherea says, in the aftermath, that they had the choice to stop.

Harrow stops.

A lifetime of doing exactly what Gideon is telling her to do with her death, and Harrow chooses to stop.

Harrow remembers Ortus’ poetry. She regularly sees her congregation off to their deaths. She keeps Gideon’s glasses. She views Palamedes, head exploded and all, as an infinitely better person than she is because of the quality of his exemplary character. She pulls Gideon the First from the incinerator on the night she plans to kill him.

Kiddo has so many fucking issues, but somewhere, she has learned to respect people for being people. That’s why she and Gideon are the heroes of the story, ultimately, and Ortus saying that they’re heroes worthy of the Ninth doesn’t fall flat. They’re actually trying.

Where that puts us for Alecto, I don’t pretend to know.

Since the first book is the temptation of an end to isolation, only to have it snatched away, the second book is the continuation of isolation with a few promising sparks of human connection that pave the way for hope...

That leaves the third book to shed the isolation and allow the connections to thrive.

With Gideon and Harrow MIA.

I know that the books kick things up into high gear in the final acts each time, but if they’re both gone for the majority of the book, no matter how much fun it is, I’m going to miss them. They’re the core leads, and I don’t want to be without them in the final part.

The 2022 release date has aged my soul. I deliberately planned my GtN read to land a month before HtN came out, then suffered when that was delayed. When really that was nothing at all. I hate waiting.

(Insert note that I’m very glad they aren’t forcing Muir to rush anything out. It’s been a rough time, but also, just in general authors should have the opportunity to create the best versions of their art they can, so the extra time hurts, but it’s obviously for the best.)

What I’m most excited for is probably the cover art. The first two have been awesome, and the artist said he’d likely do print sales for all three when the third’s revealed. My wallet cries but my heart does not.

What I dare not be excited for is the potential for Gideon and Harrow meeting again and perhaps hugging. In their own bodies.

I’d take other bodies, but ideally, y’know.

Also I would love for Harrow to finally meet her popsicle girlfriend.

I doubt it would be a wholly positive experience, but by golly I want it. Maybe they could hug too. It would probably kill Harrow again, but who doesn’t expect several people to die again in the third book?

However it plays out, I’m expecting to enjoy AtN. The writing’s the sort that I’ll happily follow wherever it goes. For everything else, there’s fanfic. The only real worry I have is the whole book will be narrated by Ianthe, and while I mentally groan at that, I actually find Ianthe’s commentary delightful, so even in the worst case scenario I’m having a good time.

Thank you so much for the ask.

[asexualbookbird]

I'm doing a rare thing for me; I'm purchasing a physical book from barns & noble. I need like one or two more books to make shipping free for me and i think you got me into murderbot. So my question to a fellow ace is, what books do you recommend i add to my cart? I enjoy sci-fi/fantasy and I'd like the MC to be an actual adult instead of teenagers ☺️

oh gosh lots of responsibility here

I don't know if you're asking for ace specific books, in which case I'm not the best to ask because I'm Very Bad at reading ace books. I have a List, somewhere, probably in my tags, of ones I INTEND to read. Someday. Eventually. But I'm so bad at reading lol

I LOVED Marth Wells' other series, The Books of the Raksura, though I've only read the first (because I owned it and keep forgetting to order the rest from the bookstore). It deals with family, and identity, and while it does focus on relationships and sex, it doesn't prioritize it? It's really about finding who you are and finding your family. Also, bewinged folk. Love bewinged folk.

I recently discovered The Founders Trilogy, by Robert Jackson Bennet and it was a RIDE. More found family (I like what I like), steampunky magic, thieves, guilds, mad scienctists, GREGOR MY LOVE, main character is in a relationship with a woman. Book one is pretty stand alone, but there's an overarcing plot. Book two is three years after book one, and book three is not yet published and I'm cranky about it. It's fast paced and funny, but also deals with identity (okay I'm sensing a theme here) and generational trauma. Pretty bloody, but not gratuitously so. No sexual assaults on page, but it's alluded to. Slavery is a big theme, and people are non consensually experimented on off page. I really liked the magic/science system and the guild houses politics. The humor/angst was very well balanced imo! the author definitely has some fatphobia to work through, but other than that its great (that'st literally the only thing keeping these books from a five star rating for me).

I'm always going to throw The Locked Tomb out there, but if you want more necromancy, then The Bone Shard Daughter was an interesting one! It follows a few POVs, adults and older teens, but it was fun to try and figure out what was up. Again, the magic system was neat. I'm waiting for book two to come out in paperback becuase I MUST know what happens next. Loved the lesbians they were very cute.

Also in the necromancy category is The Bone Maker which is more character driven than anything else and about, you guessed it, found family! Love the magic here, but mostly? I love the characters?? so much???? Kreya, my love, you NEED to let your friends help you. It's about trauma, but also about healing from said trauma. It's about facing your traumas, not alone, but together. Healing can't be done without support! Love to see it!! And everyone heals differently. It warms my heart. It's also a standalone, which I feel is hard to come by these days lol

The Unbroken is part of what twitter called The Sapphic Trifecta and is a good choice if you like enemies to lovers and a good commentary on colonialism and more generational trauma. I read it summer of last year and have not stopped thinking about it and would love to give it a reread now that my head is less foggy

I should just call this the Found Family Rec List because A Long Way To A Small Angry Planet is also a good choice if you want something hm not really low stakes but. Episodic? The plot is in the title, they take the whole book to get to the angry planet, and they find each other along the way. I'd call this book leisurely. Very comforting, even in the more action packed parts. I mean it when I say episodic, though. Its chapters are like how tv used to be, each has its own mini plot and characters to drive it, but there's a bigger plot throughout the whole book. Made me feel fuzzy inside.

I'll end with The Wayward Children series, if you liked Murderbot you'll probably like this! Each novella focuses on a different child, but some are more intertwined than others. First book has an ace character, but its queer rep all the way down. Yes, more found family, but also finding yourself! Finding your place in a world you feel like you don't belong in! Finding your world you DO belong in! Finding comfort in others who share similar experiences and traumas! I've yet to read a Seanan McGuire/Mire Grant book I haven't enjoyed tbh I'd recommend anything by her (Into the Drowning Deep remains the only book to have ever truly Spooked me, turns out my horror is Deep Water. Read for a spooky time with mermaids and the deep sea.)

[inkandpen22]

Cuppa Tea, Cuppa Tea

Request: The first request is that the reader kinda is yawning a bit, but "oh, it's fine, I'm just studying a bit harder" but they're either lying and doing a bunch of work deep into the night (maybe translating old books or something) or it's insomnia, or actually studying til 4:00am or something (lots of "ors" I'm so sorry) and of course spike finds out and is like "I'm supposed to be the nocturnal one??" And I had a brief thought of somehow the reader being tricked to drink sleepy time tea or something that will make them sleep as much as they need, but idk if that would be weird 🤔 but anyway, I hope that made sense ^^;

Pairing: Spike x gender neutral reader 

Warnings: swearing 

Word Count: 1.3k 

Summary: Y/N is at Spike’s studying for a chemistry exam when Spike starts to worry for them. 

A/N: sorry for the delay!!! This was so easy to write because honestly it’s relatable. Enjoy X

Masterlist

The words on the page start to blend and nothing makes sense anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to process the words I'm staring at here. I have to pass this chemistry exam. I'm not even a chem major, stupid general education classes. I hear Spike move about behind me while his Passions episode comes to an end. Being one of the token full-fledge humans in the Scooby Gang means I'm sometimes dropped off at Spike's for safekeeping. Lately, there's a water demon terrorizing Sunnydale, so I've been instructed to come straight here after classes. Yet, Spike insists on meeting me right after the lecture. He went about finding out my course schedule so he can be thereafter my last class. Since I finish when the sun is still out, he has to use the tunnels on campus. He's the definition of smothering.

"Y/N, you need to go to bed," he advises, appearing beside the crypt I'm set upon.

My notes and textbook are laid perfectly on the crypt to study.

"Five more minutes," I yawn.

The candlelight is starting to radiate enough heat to feel it. They've been going all afternoon and well into the evening. Its light is starting to burn my eyes.

"You said that twenty minutes ago," Spike sighs, kneeling next to me.

"Oh bet, I thought it was only ten," I check my watch for the time.

Spike huffs in annoyance and snatches my textbook away.

"Hey!" I reach for the pages, but he moves it away.

"I'm so supposed to be the nocturnal one! Not you!" He reminds me with a fuss.

"Ever heard of insomnia?" I sass.

"It's not healthy," he preaches, setting my textbook down.

"Nor is being undead. That's a little pot calling the kettle black," I shrug while I reopen my book to the proper page.

"The more tired you get the more annoying you are," he grumbles, tossing his head back dramatically with a sigh.

"Dope," I nod with narrowed eyes.

"I hate you," Spike growls.

"Love to hear it," I mutter subconsciously as I continue reading.

"Ugh, oh my g-"

Absentmindedly, I read the chapter on proper chemical mixing. I can't even read the periodic table, how am I supposed to remember all of this?  

I start to sing a familiar tune under my breath without much thought. "Oh say can you see by the dawn's-"

"Stop!" Suddenly, Spike's hand is covering my mouth. "Stop while you're ahead!"

"I was just getting started." My voice is muffled by his hand.

Spike slips his hand around and brings up the other to make me stare into his eyes.

"You're getting delusional!" He accuses.

"What's life without a little bad trip? Adds some spice," I dismiss carelessly.

"You're psychotic," he determines

"Says the serial killer," I shrug.

"You're! Losing! It!" He emphasizes.

"You! Eat! People!" I fire back mockingly.

"I need to so I can exist. You don't need to study to exist," he takes my textbook away again and strolls away.

"I need to so I can get a good job," I reason.

"Industrial America is overrated," he declares monotonously.

"You're also an old English man," I grumble.

"Yeah, so I know a few things," he smirks proudly.

"You never took school seriously?" I climb down from the crypt to fetch my book from him.

"Well... I went if that's what you mean. I had a rather expensive education," Spike describes vaguely.

I reach for my textbook and take it back civilly. "A White, upper-middle-class, during the Victorian Era, given a well-to-do private education? Well, color me shocked!"

"I can hardly stand you when you get in this mood. You need sleep," he rolls his eyes annoyedly.

"I hardly tolerate you every moment of every day. I need coffee," I correct.

"I will kill you," he threatens as per usual.

"Oh yes, bring me the sweet release," I grumble as I head back to my spot.

"You sicken me, you know that?" Spike questions sarcastically.

"Glad to hear it," I laugh humorlessly.

"Normally, people aren't so keen on being threatened," he reminds.

"Fair enough, granted I'm not 'normal,'" I form quotation marks with my fingers.

"Clearly," he mumbles.

"'Clearly,'" I mock his voice. "You even sound old!"

"I'm only one hundred and twenty-six!" He states, yet again, this week.

"Oh my goodness! You're right! My bad! You're practically a new spring chicken! Now get out there young one, and seize the day!" I tease.

"I'm going to make you a cup of tea," Spike declares, heading over to his make-shift kitchen. In reality, it's an electric kettle he plugs into an extension cord that's connected to somewhere outside.

"Coffee," I request, returning to my reading.

"Tea! You don't need any more coffee," he ridicules.

"You're depressing," I insult under my breath.

After a short time, Spike returns with a mug. I've managed to get through the last paragraph I've been struggling with.

"Here," he hands the white porcelain object to me.

The warmth of the mug contrasts the cold of my hands.

"What kind," I ask as I go to sip it.

"Green," he nods.

"Oo, so you are giving me caffeine," I wiggle my brows right as the liquid hits my lips.

"Only to shut you up," he sighs.

"Always the charmer," I wink.

After a moment of consideration and pondering, I can determine that this is good tea. Spike stands around waiting for my approval.

"This is nice, what brand is it?" I go in for another sip.

"An old one my mother used to use, been around for a while," he stammers.

"Lovely, thank you."

I compliment and he grumbles some response. ______________________ The sound of a distant lawnmower wakes me up in a jolt. I gasp for air, having been so deeply asleep that I hardly felt alive. I must've been more exhausted than I originally comprehended. My blurry vision adjusts to my surroundings and I'm tucked into a bed, but not my own. No, I know this bed. I've seen it before. The bright red sheets are hard to forget. Spike.

"What the-" I scream, "Spike!"

The bleach blonde vampy appears from behind a pillar across the room.

"Yes, Pet?" He says slyly, as though it's just any other morning.

"You asshole!" I curse at him as I hurry to get up.

"Feel refreshed?" He smirks.

"Did you drug me?" I come to the realization as I stand up that I don't remember falling asleep or getting into Spike's bed.

"Eh, somewhat," he explains vaguely. "I gave you camomile tea and maybe crushed up some melatonin in it."

My jaw drops, "you're insane!"

"Knocked you out like a bloody babe," he snickers, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"What time is it?!" I shake my wrist to my watch.

"Noon," Spike answers before I have the chance to check.

My eyes go wide as the harsh reality that I'm late to my class sinks in.

"Shit! Shit!" I rush to gather my things. "Fuck me! I have my test in thirty minutes!"

Spike strolls about casually around me, not giving two shits.

"You'll be fine," he assures calmly. "The sleep will help."

"It better!" I growl at the vamp.

"I'll pick you up after your class. We'll get coffee," he suggests with a smug expression.

"You don't drink coffee," I glare as I pack up my backpack.

"Damn straight, but you do. My treat," he offers.

"Oh, so kind!" I remark sarcastically as I struggle to slip my arms through my backpack and get my shoes on at the same time.

"Have fun!" He waves as I head to the door. "Good luck!"

"Fuck you!" I bid farewell as I slam the tomb door behind me.

"Coffee!" He shouts from inside as I stroll away. "Four o'clock! I'll pick you up!"

"Okay! Fine! Fine!" I yell in agreement, despite everything that just happened.

God, I hate to love him. 

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mx-pibbles​

[crispys-laptop]

aeonian (h.h.j)

genre: fluff, angst, immortal au

word count: 1.4k

~warning: mentions of death, character death

Network tag: @stayverse

a/n: thanks to @blueprint-han for the banner and helping me with this fic. I swear if it's not for you, it wouldn't turn out this good 🥺🥺 (and I come back to tumblr :3)

The first time you saw him was when he stepped inside the cafe that you worked at. His presence was enough to captivate people, their gazes lingering on his form as he walked past them and went to the counter.

"One cup of Americano, please."

His order was simple. Just a cup of Americano. He ordered the same thing the next day. Until it became a routine. He would walk into the cafe and come up to you. You would be ready with his usual order. You both exchanged smiles, you being too shy to start a conversation.

"I think he likes you." Your co-worker would say, giggling.

You shook your head at her ridiculous statement, continuing your work as you felt his gaze on you, watching you intently.

A few weeks later, you mustered up enough courage to talk to him. As you made way timidly towards his table, your heart beating frantically, fearing his reaction.

"Excuse me? You come around a lot but I haven't caught your name yet. Mine's Y/N and I just hope we can be friends?"

His smile was beautiful. Too beautiful to be human. Yet his eyes were carrying something, like sadness and longing but you couldn't pinpoint it.

"The name is Hyunjin. Nice to meet you."

"Why do you keep coming to our café even though it's miles away from your place?"

Hyunjin looked up from his cup to stare at you, lips lifting in a smile. He pushed the cup away from him, finger drumming on the table as you waited for him to answer.

"Your coffee is delicious. They remind me of someone. That's all."

You frowned at his answer. Hyunjin seems to notice that you were not satisfied with his answer yet he didn't say anything.

"Why don't you ask that person to make your coffee then? Did you guys fight or something?

You asked, absentmindedly stirring your coffee. Hyunjin went quiet for a while before opening his mouth.

"She died a few years ago."

You stopped stirring, guilt starting to fill your being. You grabbed his outstretched hand, nearly knocking the cups over.

"I'm sorry. That's rude of me. I don't mean to bring that up." "It's okay."

Hyunjin smiled lightly, patting your hand as you kept on apologizing. You eventually picked up your head to look into his eyes, fighting back his gaze.

A wave of nostalgia suddenly hit you. You didn't know why but his eyes seem familiar somehow. Like you already saw them before.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

You jerked out from your trance as Hyunjin waved his hand in front of your face. He looked worried.

"I'm okay. It's just I think I remember something when I stared into your eyes." "Oh. That's good."

And the next day, he didn't come back.

People think being immortal must be nice. You won't die. You won't get hurt. You could live for so long and you won't ever get old. It's a way of avoiding death, the thing that people feared so much.

But not for Hyunjin. If he had to choose, he chooses death.

For starters, he needs to see all his loved ones die with his own eyes and it will continue to haunt his memory forever. He can't stay in one area for a long time just in case anyone noticed him. No matter how much the town means to him, he had moved away to avoid causing a ruckus.

He needs to change his identity often which is the only way so people won't recognize him and sell him out. He hates being immortal.

Not to mention, it's hard for him to fall in love. Hyunjin has been falling in love with the same person every time for 400 years now. No matter how much you changed over time, he still falls for you.

It hurts to see you falling in love, getting married, having kids, and hearing you passed away. He could have approached you yet he knows he won't stand a chance with you and the thought of seeing you dying hurts him.

Yet, this was the first time you approached him first. He still looks after you from time to time, helping you in secret if you have ever been in trouble and it surprised him when you approached his table shyly, asking to be friends.

And so Hyunjin agreed.

But when she started to remember a little bit from her past life, Hyunjin knew it was time for him to flee. He couldn't risk you remembering him. As much as he hated to leave, Hyunjin knew it was for the best.

For 40 years, he lived alone, far away from your city. He suppressed his desire to see you, to know if you're doing good, to find out if you got over him.

Until one day, he couldn't take it anymore. So he went back to your city, just to watch you from afar. Seeing you after all these years, still smiling brightly while running the little cafe, made him feel relieved to see you doing so well without him.

He was surprised to find out you still didn't get married yet, like your other past life. Until he found out you were still waiting for him and you already knew the fact about him being immortal.

Turned out, Hyunjin stupidly left his sketchbook, the one where he keeps all his sketches of Y/N from her different life after their last encounter together. And it seems like she pieced it together to form a conclusion that he's immortal.

And so Hyunjin decided to come back. This time, to stay until your very last breath.

The bell on the door chimed merrily as someone stepped inside the cafe. You picked up your head from the old cash register, smiling at the person in front of you.

His presence, as always, drew people in to look at him, gaping at his figure. Even after 40 years, he still had that dazzling smile on his face.

"You didn't change much, Hyunjin." "And you aged beautifully, Y/N"

You chuckled slowly, shaking your head as tears collected at the brim of your eyes. Hyunjin helped you to get out from the counter, his hand gripping yours tightly.

"I may be old but I'm not fragile yet."

You mumbled as Hyunjin fussed over you, asking if you were comfortable. You sighed, smiling, a bit amused at his antics. You pulled his hand to sit next to you. Smiling, he held your hand tenderly, as your tears once again flooded the brim of your eyes.

"I missed you."

As the noises from the background faded into silence, you focused solely on Hyunjin as he did the same, the feeling of longing evaporated as you both basked in each other's presence, letting out the yearning for each other.

"Me too, Hyunjin. Me too."

Hyunjin took one last look at the graveyard, focusing on your tomb. He watched as your close ones went back along with him. His mind flew back to the last conversation you had with him yesterday before you passed away in your sleep.

"I'll try to remember you in my next life."

Hyunjin smiled as he fixed your blanket gently, patting your hand. You smiled back as his hand intertwined both of your hands together.

"Don't bother, Y/N. It's never gonna work."

You chuckled but it was quickly cut off with a cough. Hyunjin quickly handed her some water as he helped her sit up on the bed. You waved his hand away as the cough subsided, shaking your head.

"We just need a miracle, Hyunjin. If I can remember you after our last encounter 40 years ago, why won't I remember the next time we meet?"

You reached out to your nightstand and took out his sketchbook, handing it to him. Hyunjin reluctantly accepted it, feeling a bit lost.

"If you show me that sketchbook in my next life, I'm sure I'll remember. After all, I won't forget the person who draws me so beautifully like that."

You chuckled as Hyunjin flipped through the pages. He nodded.

"Now let's get you to sleep. It's late."

That night, Hyunjin drew you while you were sleeping peacefully with a smile on your face as you breathed your last air.

He gripped the sketchbook tightly in his grasp, willing himself not to cry. He let out a watery smile as he walked away from the graveyard, promising himself to do what you told him to do before.

Except, you were never reborn.

[iridulcentdays]

🔃 I'm a big fan of your fanfics, just never said anything, sorry. Despite not being a big fan of romance, I actually enjoy your RusAme fanfics. Probably bc they have great plots and character development. Anyway, I'll write LOOOONG reviews for most of your stories because you definitely deserve them. I don't have an AO3 or Tumblr account, so you'll just have to settle for anon here. Thanks!

Oh thank you anon! I love comments in any form! Even tiny notes in the tags (although, I do absolutely adore long reviews the most tbh)

Have a ficlet!  (The rest below the cut b/c it gets a little graphic - T warning)

There was blood in the water. Alfred could smell it, even from under the musky depths of earth he was  buried in. The memory of it–hot and thick and metallic– trickled down his throat like phantom claws and he could feel the black beast inside him awaken.

There was a reason he had holed himself.

Alfred’s fingers twitched, disturbing the soil weighing him down. Muffled sounds came from above and the smell of blood grew thicker. Intoxicating and undeniable. He clawed the damp soil and sand aside, exhuming himself from the earthen tomb he had built for himself. Alfred felt his finger crest into cool air, and pushed the soil aside and away from his mouth and eyes and stared into the dark canopy of the elm tree he had buried himself under a century ago.

A scream startled the birds above him. Alfred pulled himself from the ground, clawing out of the halo of gnarled roots and to the dark water just down the small embankment. There was a flash of lights, the sound of voices, and Alfred watched blue shadows of men prowl on the edge of the lake across from him.

“Please,” some one begged, their voice rough from pain. No doubt the screamer. There was a heavy thud of something hitting flesh and the voice cried out again, bubbling into something Alfred no longer recognized. Alfred tongued his fangs, extended from smelling the blood. His mouth watered.

He reached down to the lake, pooling the water into his hand and brought it to his lips. Even diluted as it was, it was rich and tempting. The bloody water cascaded down his throat and face, dripping to the ground as he drank and the water gurgled in his empty stomach. And it hurt. He stayed kneeling down, still hidden by the dark leaves and heavy branches and watched the bleeding victim being held down by three others. No one had seen him. They continued on with their torture and the man screamed.

Alfred dusted off his long black suit coat and walked away from his tomb. Every limb was tense, humming with energy and the need to feed. He watched one of the men hold down their victim under the water, laughing and Alfred smiled as well.

The feeling of the night air against his skin was almost euphoric, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of his fingers ripping into the soft throat tissue and fangs sinking in, distending to their full length. The hot coppery finally slid into his mouth, coating his tongue and filling his belly like hot spiced wine. Men screamed, cursing into the air and taking the name of the Lord into vain. Alfred turned his gaze to them, watching them back up slowly from shock.  The victim below him, lying by his feet and crawling onto the shore coughed and vomited water. Alfred took another mouthful of blood, then pulled the man away– letting his teeth rip through more flesh and cartilage and bump into bone  painfully– and then dropped the dying and twitching man to the ground. One of the men tried to run. Alfred lunged after him, pulling him to the grown and backwards, twisting the spine as he did so. The man was dead.

Ah, damn. He hated when he miscalculated. It had been a while. He’d only meant to paralyze.

Alfred turned his gaze to the last man. The man stared back. The man went to turn and run, but he was already upon him, like a fox snapping back a rabbit.

The force of their tumble broke the man’s arm and jarred Alfred’s jaw. He rubbed it as the man cried out and begged for mercy. Alfred ignored him and held him down, pinning him as he opened his neck with his fangs and drank deeply. Alfred dragged his fangs further down when the man tried to get out of his grasp, grabbing onto his broken arm and letting his own pain immobilize him so he could shift his weight and fully immobilize him.

Minutes dragged on. The man’s fights and pleas and crying quieted as he finally died. Alfred stopped drinking when he heard the man’s heart go quiet. It was no good to drink the blood of the dead, no matter how recent.

Alfred let the blood drip from his face as he walked over to his last meal. The man was trying to crawl away, clearly in agony. Alfred glanced up the moon and stars, and then grabbed the man by his shirt, turning him over and looming over him.

The man glared at him even though he was clearly frightened. The moonlight made his eyes look deep and purple and kissed silver into his hair. His nose was broken, bleeding, and Alfred’s stomach growled with insatiable hunger. “You’re going to die,” Alfred said. It wasn’t any use fighting. The wounds he had were clear. He’d been stabbed and kicked and burned with cigarettes on his chest and nearly drowned. Clearly, he had pissed someone off.

“Go to hell,” The man spat.

“You’re Russian,” Alfred said in surprise, grip loosening a little.

The man nodded hesitantly. Watching with constantly shifting eyes.

“I’ll make it painless then,” Alfred compromised. It was as much as he could do for Anton. Not that Anton could do anything. He was dead, after all. The bastard. Alfred leaned down to go to his throat, but the man reared his hand, slapping him hard.

“What–“ Alfred reeled back, staring at the brazen and dying man below him.

“Do not–“ the man gritted. Blood seeped onto his lips. He coughed. “–Do not,” he warned with an icy furor.

Alfred glared down at him and then grabbed his hand, trying not to hurt him more than necessary, and ended up straddling him, pressing chest to chest as he held both hands with one of his own. His fangs were nearly grazing his pale throat when the man said, “Do not let me die. Not yet.”

Alfred reared back his head just enough to look him in the eye. “Why?”

“I must still get my revenge.” The man stared at him evenly. Challengingly.

“We all die with unfinished business,” Alfred apologized. “Unfinished dreams, lost love, et cetera, et cetera.”

“They killed my sister.”

“You’re making this longer than it needs to be.”

“They killed my lover,” the man gritted out.

“And the Germans killed mine,” Alfred said, but he sat up as he looked down at the man. He was different all right. He was staring death in the face and didn’t care. “What’s your point?”

“Turn me into one of you,” the man said quietly. Alfred gazed at him for a long minute. The birds were still silent, but the crickets chirped rhythmically in the distance. A cloud passed over the moon and tossed them into near blackness.

“Why?”

“They–“

Alfred licked one of his fangs, “please be more creative.”

The man fell silent. He stared up at Alfred with those unusual eyes. Alfred could feel the bones of his hand shift as he flexed his fingers. Blood rattled in his throat as he breathed. He didn’t have long.

“Because I want to be a monster. Crueler that those that were cruel to me.”

Alfred tapped his fingers against the man’s chest. “What’s your name?”

“Ivan. Ivan Braginsky.”

“Well Ivan,” Alfred said “I’m sorry.” And pierced his neck with his fangs. Alfred sucked against the wound, listening to Ivan’s baritone bodily where he was pressed against him. Hot and thick and so delicious. Alfred pulled back and took his free hand to wipe away the matted and muddy hair from his face. He was handsome. And brave, clearly. And perhaps reminded Alfred a little of Anton.

Ivan twitched under him as he delved his tongue into the wound, lathing the skin around it with his tongue. This was a bad idea.

Alfred sat up, “Well Ivan, this is going to hurt.” And Alfred dragged his claw like nail down his tongue, cutting the sensitive muscle and letting blood well before kissing him.

The blood from his meals left his lips slippery and hot when he pressed into Ivan’s mouth, holding his head in place as he instinctively tried to thrash away. Their noses crashed as Ivan tried to turn his head again, and Alfred continued to kiss him, dominating him until he felt Ivan swallow.

Alfred pulled away, still holding Ivan’s face still and raised a brow. “Just remember, this is less painful than walking into sunlight, alright?”

Ivan’s brows furrowed, clearly about to ask what he was talking about, but his eyes clenched shut and his face contorted in pain. Alfred kissed him again, cutting off a violent scream.

“You asked,” Alfred said and let him go.