basementmixtape
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If James didn't do this, every awful thing he'd done to get into this room would have been for nothing.
This was the thought that moved his wand from his sleeve to his hand. Something inside of him was slowly turning to stone. Everyone always told him he was golden—did he have a Midas touch, a curse that turned everything he touched into things, immovable and dead, inanimate...?
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On a cold day in October, Regulus Black asks James Potter to help him kill the Dark Lord.
James is swept up in machinations beyond his comprehension, and before his eighteenth birthday he has a Dark Mark on his arm and an innocent death on his conscience.
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. -
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Summary
Regulus is a bored, sullen vampire.
James is in the wrong place at the wrong time.-
"You were sick, and you were dying, so I looked for a solution. I found one. It came with a steep price." He studied their dead mother's doll-like stare, and traced the shape of her nose with a careful, precise fingertip. He moved with the fluidity of water. "We're both vampires. We'll both be vampires until our true deaths, whenever they come. We have to drink human blood, or the thirst comes. It can't kill us, the thirst, but it can make us suffer."
"What can kill us?" Regulus asked, watching Sirius take a lock of their mother's black hair in his hand very gently, tie it in a little knot, then rip it from her scalp in one brutal movement. He tucked her hair in his pocket.
"Sunlight."
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"Fuck you."
"But this is how I like you best." James stopped crying like he'd slapped him. Ragged breath filled the room.
"What?"
"This," Regulus gestured broadly to the pathetic figure he cut, crying and hurt. James was so gentle, so soft and sweet. Breaking him felt like finding out cotton candy could crack if you hit it just the right way. "Is how I like you best."
"So you do live to torture me."
"Arrogance." He tutted.
tldr:
James and Regulus have emotionally abusive sex in a broom closet.Series
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stamp collecting by basementmixtape
Fandoms: The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch (2019)
12 Sep 2023
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Dear Stranger,
Pen pal project is stupid, they don't even let you give true names. He said to treat it like a diary so that's what I will do. You can call me Pav. I live in Vegas, I have for a while.
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Boris and Pippa are paired together for a school project, they have no idea who they’re writing to.
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living while starving by basementmixtape
Fandoms: The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch (2019)
02 Aug 2023
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Boris goes with Theo to New York. Boris POV.
Recent series
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flowers of flesh and blood by basementmixtape
Fandom: The Turn of the Screw - Henry James, The Turning (2020)
18 Feb 2020
Summary
“ 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆
𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒌𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒆? ”-
short fics about miles fairchild and the turning.- Words:
- 4,014
- Works:
- 2
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Will has spent the past fifteen years resisting the siren song of Hannibal Lecter and almost destroying himself in the process. Now Hannibal Lecter’s on trial for murder. He’s hired Will to represent him. Will doesn’t think he can fight the pull anymore. And he’s not sure he wants to try.
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Sometimes, no matter how hard he tries, Regulus Black cannot speak.
(Or; Regulus Black begins at Welton Preparatory school, being forced to face his brother who he has not seen in nearly a year and the boy who stole him. Tangled into a whirlwind love story with James Potter, beginning due to an inspirational English teacher and secret correspondence through graffitied library books, Regulus is forced to make a choice.)
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Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are enemies, born adversaries, prophesied leaders of opposite factions.
2001 to 1932, forty-seven days to change the fate of the Dark Lord.
This is a 'Harry travels back in time to raise Tom' story. An unfortunate tale of one man's failed attempt to mold young Tom into a decent, law-abiding citizen. Instead, as Fate will have it, young Tom grows up to become the same twisted psychopath, who is hell-bent on winning the love of his adoptive father. Harry's consent be damned.
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The amount of times James had opened his browser and typed in “what is wrong with me” was probably alarming. The things that came up were stupid. Cheap psychology articles and mental health preaching.
“'What Is Wrong With Me?' What to Do If You Feel This Way” was the first result that came up from a website called wellmindstoday.com. It was probably trying to sell James something. A therapy app, a workbook, a guided meditation. Something stupid and wrapped up in a capitalist agenda. The article was tagged with things like “worthless,” “lonely,” “how to get out of a rut,” and “personality disorder.
James pulled into the car park. He didn’t get out. He sat in the darkness of the car and read the stupid fucking article.
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There was another student here.
Tom recognized him vaguely—while transfer students were not necessarily uncommon due to the war, they were rare enough to at least make an impression. This particular transfer student was in his year, sorted into Ravenclaw after an impressively long hat stall. He looked like he might be descended from the Potter line, but he did not share the surname so his lineage was of no particular interest to Tom. Nothing about him was of particular interest to Tom, in fact, and yet here he stood, holding the book that Tom had come here to find.
It would be a good time to turn away. The Restricted Section was restricted for a reason—only books documenting extremely dangerous or extremely advanced magic were stored here.
Tom’s feet, however, suddenly felt as if they were made of lead. It wasn’t magic keeping him tied down, but something far more mysterious like curiosity or even fate. In any case, the delay was all it took for the Ravenclaw to lift his chin and meet Tom’s eyes.
This Ravenclaw, Tom realized, had eyes as blindingly green as the Killing Curse.