asttyx

[asttyx]

Throws more shitposts down like breadcrumbs...

Originals under cut again

[asttyx]

random idea i had

[asttyx]

Who stole the medkit..!!

Bonus ^^

[asttyx]

Will Toodles be turned into a twisted in the Toodles au?

I don't think they would let that happen..

[asttyx]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[asttyx]

my creations

[asttyx]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchantée, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchantée, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[asttyx]

It was Mahogany Wood and Fresh Apples (Oneshot)

"If the two of you were the last ones to live, would you dance the waltz with him?"

It was funny, you've never even considered it.

It was the last summer before your classes would start, you would be going back to your parent's house for a nice chat and dinner, possibly getting them something in exchange for the times you were absent. They missed you, you missed them more.

You look at Hermione with her bushy hair framing her face. You always thought that she looked like a bear, all fuzzy and soft. To you, at least.

"Who's him?" You laughed jokingly. She rolled her eyes as if your question was snarky.

"Oh please, be real for a minute. It's just a lovely quote to repeat." She sighs, leaning on the tree trunk that has seen you both grow. "I suggest you stop reading that book, it's doing things to your mind." You pointed at her and she laughed like you were the crazier one.

You rolled over, looking at her, for a minute you felt dizzy but maybe it was just the mahogany wood surrounding you. You don't like the particularly strong smell.

"Who was it again? I forgot?" You looked over her, hair spiked in all directions, she couldn't help but reach over to you as she fixed it.

"Who was what?" She raised an eyebrow cheekily. You were about to wipe that smirk off her face.

"Was it Von Parsley? Oh no, I'm pretty sure it starts with an R. Ron Parsley, then? Oh wait, I think I got it. Ron Weasel?" She turned bright red at the name as she hid her face.

"How do you know him?" She hid her embarrassment with a book. It was an okay attempt but little did she know you could see the redness of her ears.

"You talk about him, like a lot." It was like chanting the bible, Harry Pottery and Ron Weasel were the names that would casually roll over her tongue. "I do not!" She claimed, but with a little smile on her face. "And it's Weasley, not Weasel, thank you very much."

You puffed at what she said but just shrugged. You slightly sat beside her, leaning over the trunk as you put your head on her shoulder, leaning slightly. "What are you reading, anyway?"

Eyebrows furrowed when she automatically closed the book to which you shot an offended look. "Nothing, just a really cool book."

You sighed, sitting slightly straighter than before. It was no use getting things out of her, she's always been persistent. It had been like that the moment she came back from her private boarding school.

"You can always come back here, Mione. The teachers miss you like crazy that they've been pumping things out of me." You sighed.

No response.

She looked away from your comment, it was clear that she wasn't happy about your suggestion.

"Or not." You added jokingly to ease what she was feeling. "You could just chase after Ron Weasel over there." This time surely, she faced you to hit you in your arm. A big smile plastered over her face.

"That prat is totally not my type! I do not have a crush on him!"

"Whoa there, Mione. You should just relax." You raised both hands and nodded, looking straight at her like her words and invalid. "Say that to his face when you get to his house, now will you?"

The girl made sure to stab you directly in the chest with a knife using only her eyes, you threw both hands up in the air. It was honestly fun messing with her. "Your words, not mine."

She rolled her eyes, opening the book once more. You leaned over as you saw the contents, none of it registered to you. Unfamiliar pages loitered with elegant black cursive that hurt your eyes, it barely made sense.

Then again, you were best friends with the weird kid. Maybe all these things are those you find endearing as you grew up with her. You put your head on her shoulder once again. The wind was growing stronger with every passing minute and it was almost perfect for you to just fall asleep.

"I just realized none of the teachers liked me." You started, she just kept quiet. A sign she was listening, and never made any comments when it came to you talking.

"I wasn't smart like you, I am also definitely not popular. I'm not appealing, my family isn't rich, I don't have many friends, I don't get invited to many events." You sighed. "Maybe because they like you, Mione, they learned to talk to me." You sighed, she took your hands and massaged your outer palm. "Don't be hard on yourself. It wasn't because of me, maybe, they generally don't like people like us."

She laughed when she saw you cling to her even further, "Maybe you would've liked it when you were in my school." She said.

"But I like it here." The neighborhood you grew up in, was chilly for a summer. Yet, the lemonade stand didn't fail to always set up across their lawn.

"Yes, that's why." She reasoned.

__________

"Why do you keep a perfectly carved stick in your closet?" You ask, taking out the stick you saw as you helped her pack for the next school year.

Panic flashed in her eyes like she bolted up in her bed shouting, "Give me that!" and the next thing you know is that she was stuffing the stick in her pocket.

Her odd behavior matched the randomness of all the things you've been dealing with for the past four years. "You don't have to be so rough about it, it's just a stick." You sighed. But maybe it wasn't. You know, the thing about Hermione is that she holds a lot of sentimental value on random things that you might consider her hoarding most of those things in her closet, even her bathroom cabinet is not safe from those.

Of course, she didn't reply. Nothing to be mad about, never mad at you. Although, you kind of wished she was. You never know the things that would piss her off, that was because she never took her anger out of you.

"I used to have a rose I received from Sam. But it wilted." You said, like then again, she didn't say anything back. You could see her folding the clothes she would need for the next school year, it's as if she lives there.

"I used to like Sam, remember?" You smiled, lightening up and she nodded. "Yeah. I remember." Just like that, she was back to her usual self again.

"I don't want to be bothered, Mione." You looked down at the frames hanging up on Hermione's bedroom wall, a few with her parents but most of them made up of you and her growing up. How could you not? You remember the day she knocked out your teeth in the playground, that was the first time you both met. "But I'm not magic."

She stopped to look at you, her hands frozen solid and she had no intentions of stopping to fold her clothes back again. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know what's going on in your mind. I'm not a mind reader, Mione. I know that you don't want me to be but I just hate it when you disregard things that I have said. Why don't you get mad at me?"

She relaxed and looked at you. Maybe it was because of the way you said it or maybe you did not push it any further but she was relieved and you didn't have to know. You wouldn't understand why she was internally freaking out over your choice of words.

"Tell me something I didn't know." And she knew, maybe, just maybe this is the last time she'd ever get to spend a nice summer with you. It wasn't about you being ready, she never planned to tell you anything. It was her.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"What?"

"Swear on it." She looked at you so seriously, never before did you see her shaken and confused.

"I swear." You nodded, this time, you know you are supposed to go sit in her bed. So you did.

The girl was maybe hyperventilating, you almost regret pushing her to speak up with her emotions. Almost. It was a treat, but you know you don't have to push her like that, but there was this urge telling you that maybe this might be the only chance.

She stood up to kneel in front of you, she shouldn't have, but she did anyway. She took both your hands in hers and breathed, seeking comfort and you tried to match her rhythm.

"I'm a witch." She breathed, closing both her eyes to look at your reaction. No words, you just looked at her. No questions, you believe her, and it was all there to say.

"How?" You shake your head. "Magic." Like the fairytales that were read to you ever so often that you normalize it as a bedtime story? It is much more darker and you looked at her without asking anymore. "I believe you, Mione."

__________

You were never a fan of thrill, you didn't expect you'd go through a wall. On your second attempt at that, Hermoine had you on a pep talk about believing and all, that's what you did, and got your head badly collided on the wall. You had to bid her goodbye and her parents came as well.

There weren't that many people in the area, and Hermione was one of the few to go early. She said that it was something about Von Weasel and the Quidditch World Cup. Not that you know what that is considering you have little to no idea what was happening.

As soon as a Jacobite steam train appeared, Hermione had to bid you all goodbye. She told you it wasn't her usual route to the Weasels and had to take an alternative but she wanted you to bid her goodbye as she boarded the Hogwarts Express. She told you that it was special, you didn't want to take her moment with her parents away though. She would miss them like crazy, but she would always insist that she had a feeling this time, it was really special. You took her word for it.

You bid her goodbye and blew kisses as she waved her hands out the window. The train was almost leaving, it didn't fill up like you thought it would. Maybe Hermione was just early. It wasn't busy like you thought, but there were multiple 11-12-year-olds running around, like the first time your best friend told you that she got admitted to her 'private boarding school'. You thought it was funny how she managed to make up excuses all the time.

Now you're not too sure how you'd get by a day without thinking of all these, sadly, you aren't the few gifted ones who are born to do things like Hermione would. Surely, your parents have high hopes for you and you'll eventually need to seriously move back to your private boarding school in less than a week. With the stupidly strict uniform and teachers who only talk to you when needed.

You had to go, the train left. You looked back at Hermione's parents as they made their way back to the wall, they expected you to follow. That you would, but stopped in your tracks once a figure stopped you midway. Far across you, a boy with platinum blonde hair was wearing black formal clothes. You didn't know why but you thought he looked fine. Handsome even, it was outrageous, you never go googly-eyes for a stranger. Hermione would've laughed if she saw you.

He was alluring, you thought that maybe he was a wizard, perhaps the same age as you are? Does he know Hermione? You thought of a million reasons why you are unable to move and follow back Hermione's parents.

The guy was alone, he had a cart though. You wondered why he didn't get on the train that Hermione took, it was strange, maybe he'd take the other? How badly it is that you want to strike up a conversation, you know you weren't like this. Not with Sam at least.

And you saw him sigh, go by a distant chair, and sit. He started tapping his foot, like waiting for someone and it was like he was always annoyed. It was perplexing to see, and you knew you had to take one step closer.

He noticed you, with a frown on his face. He was about to make a snarky comment but debated whether to actually say it, instead, scooted over for you to sit down on the other side. You wanted to say something, really. But didn't dare to actually come up with words. You knew you were shy and awkward, you just hoped it wasn't for this moment that could ruin you for next years to come.

He was your type, of course he is. Formal dressed, well-kept hair, and you turn to look at him, startled to see he is looking back at you.

Silence.

The way your heart jumped with dopamine.

He didn't say anything back, but the snarl in his face disappeared. He observed you, without malice no, not with judgment. He wasn't criticizing you at all and all you wanted to be in that moment was something he was looking at like a treat in his eyes.

Let that come true.

He has the clearest grey eyes you have seen. Draws you like a whirlpool but all you have to do is make a move, perhaps a simple 'Hi' would suffice. You shifted uncomfortably but you managed to throw him a small smile.

So much like Hermione, he didn't return the favor. But you saw the way his tensed shoulders dropped and eyes softened. He was about to say something when-

"It's time to go," A deep slurred voice distracts you as you look up to see someone with long platinum blond hair standing, eyeing the boy who immediately stood up. "Yes, father."

You heard him say, his voice never clearer on your ears like water, you were bewitched. At that moment, you thought of how badly you wanted to waltz with him. But he stood up and looked at you quickly before the expression of annoyance crept back to his face before walking away.

You saw the guy beside him throw you a sharp glare muttering something along the lines of 'muggles' like it was something disgusting. You sat there completely unaware of how everything in your head did not play the way you wanted.

You didn't get to ask for his name, he was about to say something too. But you remember so clearly the distinct smell of Mahogany Wood and Fresh apples. You liked it.

You jolted as you heard your name being called from the distance, you almost forgot about it. You hurriedly stood up with a smile on your face, following the voice as you said you were sorry that you got sidetracked along the way.

Maybe next year you'll see him and get to ask for his name. Maybe he thought the same. You were ecstatic. Maybe he did.

You weren't able to come. Hermione didn't invite you to send her off.

IThat next year, he waited in the same spot but you never came.

[asttyx]

just finished The Song of Achilles audio book thingie. The end chapter is absolutely devastating. Garments/ general look of characters may not at all be accurate to the book setting, apologies. Just trying to capture the vibe :)

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"We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake loving him in silence."

https://instagram.com/tamllama?utm_medium=copy_link

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go read if we were villains and then pls come back and talk to me about it :)

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bitches only want The Song of Achilles and If We Were Villains kind of love as if those endings didn't give them trauma

[asttyx]

"We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake loving him in silence."

https://instagram.com/tamllama?utm_medium=copy_link

[asttyx]

I thought of how many nights i had lain awake in this room, loving him in silence.

Patroclus - The Song of Achilles

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Patroclus: I think I might have an interest in Achilles. Although I doubt he’d feel the same way.

Achilles: I would literally write a thousand sonnets for him. Carve his name in a blade made by only the most precious metals. Hell, I'll purchase a goddamn star for him. He can have what ever he wants, he already has my heart.

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Well... I.... I....can't just....

How can Miller possibly compare two totally different things with each other, like how DEATH can be beautiful and how LOVE can be thrilling?

How are they similar? Is Death is love? Or love is death? Does love brings death? Or Death gives love?

But more importantly how these lines exist, how am I suppose to ever live in the world knowing that no one will ever love me like PATROCLUS LOVED ACHILLES, or ACHILLES BURNED THE WORLD FOR HIM!!!?

How do I act normal??????

(I completed reading this, but with so much of bittersweetness)

[asttyx]

"He smiled, and his face was like the sun."

Madeline Miller, the song of Achilles