#and then later use it to lash out and cause destruction w it in either themselves or others

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HELLO I AM VERY AWAKE. hello mx mackintosh apple. would u happen to have any spare cwilbur heart player propaganda. (what class would he be do u thiink. ;-;) or like anything else for that matter. karkat woobification. ghostbur discussion. cool ass sea creatures. this is another free coupon for u. also all my friends r asleep rn too LMAO so..... <33 🤝

ohhhh my god hi ros hiiii don't even get my STARTED on cwilbur heart player propaganda this post will b like. 20 miles long.

His class is !!!!! very tricky I think. I haven't nailed down a solid one yet. for a while I was pretty solid on him being a Bard but like... now that I've been rereading hs and looking at the wikis more im not sure if that fits as well as I want it toooooo... idk!! BUT. heart player momence. Holy shit. I feel so so so so strong abt this. You've seen the beginnings of the shit w dirks "splinters" now and. That is a big heart player thing I think.

I will FOREVER be sad that we never got to see enough of nepeta or meulin to get as good of a read on their relationships to being a heart player so like. we only rlly have a destroyer class to go on??? but like. imo. being a heart player is HEAVILY reliant on figuring out. the self. and identity. And like. w cwilbur,,, collectively as a fandom we have unintentionally split him up into his own splinters. we've got lmanbur. we've got pogtopia era. we've got GHOSTBUR. and now we have revivebur. And like. Even tho they're all the Same Guy, sometimes they're all treated as different characters. president of lmanburg wilbur is NOT the same guy as. say. revivebur. and don't even get me STARTED on how c!wilbur talks about ghostbur. AND how ghostbur talked abt him . Each of them saw themselves as separate from the other, even though... like... technically they're the same fuckign person. and that is SUCH a heart player thing we LITERALLY saw almost that exact conversation between Dirk and AR. "you and I are the same" "stop saying that." GOD. It's so fucking good ok. ok. I could write an entire fuckign essay abt c!wilburs relationship to his own identity. he even does it HIMSELF in canon. I don't have any of my quotes abt this saved but I know I have them somewhere and if I remember to tomorrow I'll try 2 find some.

AS FOR THE OTHER STUFFF. I feel like this post might b getting a lil Too Long ™ but if u have any specific fun sea monsters 2 ask me abt I would love 2 talk abt those too hehehe. karkat is just so.... he is so ... u haven't even gotten to the best karkat moments yet... man... I love him sommuch. he goes thru such good character development... actually.. I was joking when I said ctommy is a karkat kinnie irt being a knight of blood but like... they r kinda similar sometimes. rude loud annoying kid w a rlly rlly good heart. their love for unlovable things. their tendency to ramble abt random shit forever and word things in such Specific Ways. yeah...

[bts-story]

Have you heard of Nick Cannon's show "Wild 'N Out"? There's this segment in this show called "Got Damned" wherein each team has a representative to roasts their opponent, and if one of them takes too long to insult the other or their insult is a bit "shaky", the other team gets the point (It's also in youtube, check it out! v funny 😂 ) I would like to request where Namjoon and y/n (couple) were guests on the show but were on different teams, and have to roast each other. Up to you who wins :)

Got Damned — RM

Where is the line between something funny and something mean?

“Well, let’s roast!”

Being mean is intentionally hurting someone else. Anyone manifesting a will to harm, someone looking to attack and, or injure pain in any way. In this very situation, we talk about painful words. Something that is specifically aimed to hurt someone’s feelings, targeted like an arrow with its mark. It’s talking or pointing out the things about someone they complex about. In all, being mean is something wanted, meant to harm with the simple purpose to hurt someone exactly where there’s already a lot of pain.

“God of Destruction, they call you. Aren’t Gods supposed to be well-built?”

Being funny is the other world past the line. Someone, or something funny, is amusing and likely to make people smile or laugh. Something meant to entertain and distract someone. The good part of this segment, if you will, is how to embrace the amusing part of the joke. It’s to understand no harm was meant, no intended attack was targeted. Only pure amusement to divert the audience.

“Okay, now try again, but use your big-girl words, baby.”

It’s odd to imagine a reality show where all you have to do is mock and making fun of your opponents. The duality of this is, of course, understand where stands the line between being funny and being mean. The thing about entertainment is to find new subjects to distract the spectator because, let’s face it, we all get bored pretty easily by watching all the same things again, again and all over again.

“You know what, I don’t even argue with idiots. They just lower me to their level and I clearly can’t beat experience.”

A wave of laughter erupted from all around the studio, denouncing fingers pointed here and there, mouth wide open and some of the people around even clapped hard with their hands, holding tight at their belly. What’s good to notice about this show is to learn how important it is not to take any targeted joke seriously. People will only use physical normalities against each other, they would lash about something they may have said or done before. In all, it’s all calculated, directed to be as funny as possible with only merely crossing the line of being mean.

“You thought about that one on the way here, didn’t you? How many more do you have?”

“Oh, shaky, shaky,” the emcee warned with a disapproving shake of his head. But Namjoon still adored this smile at the corner of his lips, listening, carefully thinking about his next comeback. He wasn’t roasting just yet, only counter-backed your attacks. It may be a good sign because Namjoon has never really been good with insults, in all honesty.

“Yeah, too shaky. Like the first time you asked me out. ‘W-would you like to go-go on a date w-with me?’” It wasn’t true. Not one word about this was true, but no one had to know about that.

The joke was just too easy not to make, and considering the chuckle escaping Namjoon’s lips, you knew he wasn’t mad. In fact, he nodded his head, licked his lips before the emcee turned his head towards him, waiting for his response. “Need an answer or you’re out,” the other guy said, a warning in his eyes and he was already ready to call out Namjoon before the latter answered something among the lines –

“It’s pointless to make fun of her,” he argued to the man, “‘cause it’ll take her the rest of the day to figure it out.” Once more, all laughter erupted from all around. Namjoon had this unbeatable smirk at the corner of his lips you desperately wanted to beat off. It was smug and satisfied and it’s true to say Namjoon only wore it when he was proud of something (or ready to jump out on you and kiss every single each of your body).

You shook your head, clearing your throat as you quickly tried to think about a next insult to throw out. “If I throw a stick, will you leave already?”

It’s easy to say. Some jokesaren’t specifically meant to harm, and you know Namjoon wouldn’t really take it personally. He’s smart enough to understand the rules of this game, intelligent enough so he wouldn’t get hurt by the way of your words. “Speaking of leaving, why don’t you take your ‘I wish I was a model’-ass out of here?”

It’s more or less meant to spike. You can tell by the devilish spark in the middle of Namjoon’s irises, you can tell by the never-ever-fading smile on his lips. You nodded silently, trying to take the joke too seriously and it was about to get real because, you expected sooner or later, one of you would start to bring in real talk in the game.

Something the other might be insecure about, anything, really, that would destabilize them in any way possible. Still, no harm meant. “Why don’t youtake your weird lizard-looking, mama’s boy-ass out of here?”

“I would but mama makes such delicious cupcakes,” Namjoon said in a high-pitched voice, proudly. “At least she can cook.”

You wouldn’t even be able to cook to save your own life and, yes, Namjoon can’t possible do as well either, but the fact was directed for you and if you expected anything, it wasn’t that because, it’s just too easy. “Keep talking, you’ll probably end up saying something clever one day.”

It took a moment of laughter all around, a nod of Namjoon’s head before he continued, “You have fake hair, right? Fake nails, fake tan and if I’m not wrong, fake eyelashes too? Aren’t you…” Namjoon laughed, a hand on his chest to emphasize his words, “weren’t you actually made in China?”

It all ends that way.

Making the difference between something mean and something funny. It’s hard to tell where stands the line and it’s even harder to be able not to cross it. But what happens when the line is crossed, however?

Well, this is this feeling. When your heart breaks a little, and suddenly you’re not laughing anymore because something made your stomach twirls and your heart sting a little. There is nothing funny and the harm is already said and done. The line is already too far behind, and nothing anyone can say or do will magically suppress anything.

It’s that sick feeling, when you can actually feel the pain in your chest from hearing or witnessing something that really breaks your heart. But it’s all a game, well, it’s supposed to be a game. And games are meant to be fun and enjoyable. But when it’s not anymore, what do you do?

It wasn’t that big of a threat; however, it was enough to leave you speechless. An effective knockout which was indeed calculated because it’s the pure truth. The public chanted all together, celebrating how Namjoon knocked you out so easily. The smug smirk on his face growing larger as his teammates celebrated their little victory. Shaking your head, you let a slight laugh escaping your lips before disappearing behind the next player.

“Are you mad at me?” Namjoon asked later on, when the chaos of the studio had been shut down and you found yourselves back in the van, ready to head out back to the hotel. It’s safe to say you started to feel a headache forming inside your skull, literally hearing your heartbeats with each second passing.

You snuggled yourself further in his embrace, shaking your head side to side to deny. However, he knows you and he knows all your moods and all your flaws. And he knows when something is wrong or when something, anything, is bothering you. “M’just tired,” you tried to argue softly, hoping it’ll leave his doubts flowing away.

But he knows better. “It was just a game, yeah?” he stated quietly, holding you closer before planting a kiss on top of your head. His hand came to find yours and still moving from time to time due to the holes in the road, he caressed absently your fingers one by one.

“Yeah,” you replied lazily, already feeling your eyes shut down.

But it wasn’t enough for Namjoon, he needed to be sure you wouldn’t hold anything against him. That you wouldn’t be mad or annoyed of anything he might have said. After all, you said things too but, once again, he knows when something is wrong.

So he detached his fingers from yours to put them under your chin, lifting up your head to meet your eyes. And there was exactly what he loved the most about you. One can see so many things in the two orbs made to see, and your eyes always made him feel like he was the only man on earth. The only important thing that ever existed and kissing your lips delicately, he cupped your jaw, caressing the skin under his fingertips.

He does not need to say anything more, because looking right into your eyes, he finds all the answers he was searching for. You’re not mad.

You’re not mad, and you’re really just tired because that type of recording takes so long, and it literally drains your energy. But of all the things you said, and all the things he said, it was all just fun, and not harm was meant.

The line stands there. When you love someone, you know of all the things you can say and all the things you don’t. When you love someone, you make sure not to ever cross that line.

—————

Is it safe to say I’d let Justina Valentine step on me?! 

This took SO long and I’m SO sorry bby 

I hope it’s fine enough!! 

- Nageoire 

[classified-bluerose]

put me back together - quentin beck x reader

a/n: (mild) spiderman: ffh spoilers ahead. probably a very OOC quentin but hey... the man got me clownin’.

quick notes: reader is an avenger, quentin is quentin, this is far too soft tbfh but it’s fanfiction so \_(0-0)_/. just suspend your belief & hope u enjoy!

a/n 2: unedited, unbeta’d. idk man. i’m just in love w jake gyllenhaal (gylenhaal?) and mysterio is hot as hell.

(GIF is not mine)

—

chapter one: breathless

—

quentin beck is a meticulous man - he planned every facet of his revenge plot down to the smallest of details. arranged contingencies and back-up plans and waited, with the patience of a saint, for the correct moment to strike. he ensured any and all top-tier avengers were MIA, left it just long enough for SHIELD to pull together some semblance of it’s former operation but short enough so they were still finding their feet in the aftermath of the Blip. getting around the kid, parker, would be easy enough. he’d been through a tremendous amount of trauma, and quentin could use that to his advantage.

the one thing quentin beck didn’t count on, though, was you.

you, an avenger - or a former avenger, at least - who fell somewhere in the middle of all the others. not by power level, simply by how known you were. the widow and the hawk were rarely spotted and little was known about either, whilst iron man and captain america owned the heart and soul of the entire nation. banner was known for his destructive capabilities and thor worshipped for his literal godliness and appearance.

how shallow the common folk can be, quentin always mused.

then you - powerful, but not plastered across billboards or tv ads. quiet and lowkey, but not quite invisible. quentin was aware of your existence but never paid much attention to it, having heard that, following stark and roger’s deats that you’d quit the superhero charade and disappeared into the ether.

so, the man of mysteries found himself more than a little surprised when fury showed up mexico, with you in tow.

a little bit of panic hits as he watches you appraise the scene - this could be a problem, he thinks to himself, scanning his brain for any possible solution. it is only when he begins to interact with the shield agents that he notices something.

although you are standing in his presence, alive, solid, real, it‘s pretty obvious you aren’t exactly there. haunted images flicker across an otherwise stoic face as shoulders bow from the weight of grief and guilt and trauma. glassy eyes stare through and not at, words mumbled in montone in response to fury.

okay, quentin thinks, hiding a smirk, i can work with this.

—

the plan changes ever-so-slightly before venice. it is simple but brilliant, even if he does say so himself. having already laid the groundwork for his tragic backstory, it is easy to weave your character into the tapestry he was creating.

pained glances, longing expressions, a hesistant greeting - all little, subtle clues hinting to the fact that quentin knew you in his alternate world.

fury picks up on it first, of course. the spy who’s secrets have secrets still has the eye for detail he’s famous for. you, on the other hand, are oblivious to quentin’s actions - obvlious to pretty much anything happening around you. you don’t speak unless directly spoken too, don’t offer insight or advice on how to defeat the elementals. it‘s almost like fury has dragged you here in a bid to convince you to return to the fold.

quentin learns as much as he can about you as he flies over the sea to italy; not much could be gleaned from online sources but he pulls out just enough information to put together a rough sketch of who you are, what you wanted, what you’d lost.

you’d worked with the avengers since 2012, sided with stark in the infamous civil war years later - the idea of you being close to that man was enough to set quentin’s blood boiling - and had fought in both battles against the mad titan thanos. your powers were certainly impressive - your ability to conjure and manipulate fire set off a fresh worry. the final elemental that mysterio would face off against was the one made of ‘’flames’’ - what if you decided your powers would help with the destruction of the molten man?

quentin files that thought away for later as he clicks on a rare picture printed on some trendy news site. he almost doesn’t recognise the girl in the photograph as you. you were younger, looked lighter, did not carry as many ghosts on your back. and you were smiling. wide and bright and shining and quentin struggled to pull himself away from the sight.

when he did, he itemised the information he’d gathered into what he could and couldn’t use to win you over. after all, every superhero needs a love interest to protect, right?

you were close to stark, that much was painfully, bitterly obvious. newsreports following the aftermath of the last battle hinted at an intimate relationship with the black widow, too. both those people were dead and gone and that meant there was something missing in her life. an empty space that quentin was certain he could fill. the battle had caused some damage to your powers - almost like a battery, the effort and strain of fighting thanos had drained your energy quite significantly. you were slowly returning to your original state, but right now you were weakened, hurting. vulnerable.

perfect for quentin.

he gathered his information, updated the team on this latest development, and braced himself for what would come next.

—

when he reaches venice, it’s clear that fury has mentioned to you that quentin has taken an interest. you seem slightly more alert, meeting his gaze for periods longer than a half-second. your body language changes minutely - your arms, usually crossed tight across your chest, now hang looser at your waist, fingers interlaced. it is by no means a huge shift, but enough for quentin to make his move.

after a meeting with agents, fury, and spiderman, he hangs around the base setup, lingering at consoles and waiting for the last of the people to trickle out. you have stayed on to keep an eye on quentin - fury is no fool and recognised that this stranger from some other world could turn out to be just as much a threat as the monsters he was fighting. quentin couldn’t surpress a smile as he thought, oh, you don’t know the half of it.

he quickly rearranges his face when he clears his throat and approaches you, slowly. you glance up. he took his time to savour this moment - this scene he was most excited for.

he smiles, softly. ‘’ hey. i was hoping i’d a get a chance to talk to you. ‘’

no verbal response; you simply gaze at him expectantly.

quentin let his eyes take in every inch of your face - not a hardship, in fairness, you were beautiful in every way to him. if any other world really did exist she’s the girl he’d approach at a bar and offer to buy her a drink.

focus, quentin, he reminds himself, and breathes out a short laugh. ‘’ it’s so good to see you. ‘’

again, no real answer. just a tilt of the head, confusion in the eyes.

he let his fingers fall to the simple silver band on his left finger, twisting the metal around. your gaze follows the movements and there’s a brief moment where quentin swears he can see the cogs turning in your brain.

the blank expression breaks - a frown furrowing your brow, lips parting in a silent ‘’oh’’. excitement brims low in his belly - it’s working. she’s already figured it out.

you take a breath and turn your head away. when you look back, your face is neutral once again. but there’s something there - a softness that’s new. a tiny chink in the armour, all that quentin needs.

‘’ i’m sorry for your loss, ‘’ you tell him, ‘’ but i’m not her. ‘’

he nods quickly, ‘’ i know, i know. it’s just ... you look like her. ‘’ he falters in his words and feels tears building behind his eyes. seeing his watery gaze you clam up and he curses himself for getting too into it. after a second, however...

‘’ i know how it feels. to lose the one you love. to feel like it’s your fault, like you could’ve - should have - saved them, ‘’ you sigh and rub your face, tiredly. ‘’ but that’s not gonna help you save this world, quentin. ‘’

the sound of your name leaving his lips sends a tremor through his heart. he freezes momentarily - what is this feeling? - but quickly shakes out of it as you continue.

‘’ you gotta move on, ‘’ your voice is nothing more than a whisper, ‘’ you have a chance, now, to win, and you can’t let bad feelings ruin it. ‘’

you meet his gaze almost shyly, and he feels physically drawn in to you, doesn’t even realise his feet are moving until he’s barely a breath away. startled by the sudden closeness you take a step back and harden your features once again.

quentin apologises, sounding sincere, ‘’ i didn’t realise ... you’re not like her, not entirely. she was ... she didn’t have powers. ‘’ he lets the ghost of a fake memory flutter across his face. ‘’ but she was still the strongest person i knew. ‘’ his voice splinters on the last word and tears slip down his face.

you hesistate, he senses the uncertainty, and moves to turn away as though ashamed.

his stomach does a victory flip when your hand comes to touch his armoured shoulder. from underneath long, damp lashes he peeks down at you. you look as though you’re hurting for him and something harsh twists in his chest. he doesn’t have time to think about it, though. not when your hand slides down the material of his costume and finds it’s way into his.

you squeeze it gently, the unnatural warmth of your skin almost burning against his palm. quentin finds himself feeling comforted, tries to climb out of the moment and remember that this isn’t real -

he slips a little bit when you squeeze his hand a second time, and say, ‘’ just make her proud, quentin. you can save this world. do it for her. ‘’

his breath leaves him and he’s silent for a long moment as he gazes down at your face. he feels cracked open, raw, vulnerable. eventually, he nods, waits for his voice to even out. squeezes your hand back, a little tighter than necessary.

‘’ i’ll do my best. ‘’

|| Part 1 of ? ||

[goldcypress]

RUMOR HAS IT...

         Cypress Bronte’s life was always very charmed and very easy. From the moment he was born, he was showered in love and affection and it went right to his head. His parents spoiled him rotten and while he wasn’t the kind of child to throw a tantrum, it did turn him into a less than pleasant person as he grew older. The Bronte Family had everything from money to a terribly conservative attitude that would affect Cypress, shaping him into a less than the good person he is now.

          As a child, Cypress was lucky. He grew up practically next door to his cousin, Max Bronte. They were thick as thieves from the moment they could both walk without falling over. Where ever there was trouble in either Bronte households, Cypress and Max were not too far ahead of it. They grew older though, they went to school and they made friends with the other rich kids. And all the rich kids played together and all their parents were friends. Because upper class families spent time together, there wasn’t a need for to spend time with people from other classes. There wasn’t a need to cross those lines. People who didn’t have money, didn’t have money for a reason. They weren’t worth spending time with. At least that’s what Cypress was taught from a young age.

         Not everything that Cypress’ was taught though was bad. When he was in fourth grade, he had a teacher with such a passion for science (especially biology) that the subject was actually incredibly fascinating to the young boy. Between his teachers passion for science and his mothers adoration for gardening, Cypress slowly became more and more fond of plants and nature. Even when he wasn’t in school or didn’t have a homework related assignment, he’d still be out in his mothers garden studying all her different plants. Between her flowers, her veggies, and herbs, he was completely fascinated by the plants. It was almost amazing how a boy who would cause such destruction would be so... Gentle when it came to non-sentient life.

                                                                 ○♔●♕●♔○

        The years went by and Cypress became more and more into the work of botany. On top of that, he and Max started to form a really cohesive friend group, full of rich, athletic bullies. Ones that had no care for anyone but themselves. And Cypress became more like that as well, he started running track & field early in middle school with some buddies from the group of rich degenerates that surrounded the Bronte Kids. Between his family and his friends and their parents, there was no chance that the young boy was going to turn out like a good and humble and kind human being. He never stood a chance against that kind of upbringing. But that was still no excuse for who he was...

       When he reached high school, Cypress wanted to see if there were more people to hang out with than just a bunch of rich, athletic bitches and so he started to wander. He joined the science club and auditioned for plays and he was still part of track & field. He made sure to make his way through the groups of people and become acquainted with the people there. He wanted to be widely loved, he didn’t care if they knew who he actually was. Sooner or later, people would get a glimpse of the Real Cypress Bronte and they’d decide if it was worth it to stay friends with him. And no matter what they chose, Cypress always had more friends to fall back into. He knew that with this though, he was straining his closeness with Max. He wasn’t always around for some of the bigger moments in her life anymore.

                                                                   ○♔●♕●♔○ 

      Junior year came and Cypress had his first boyfriend. Cypress had been going through some changes, realizing that he wasn’t exactly straight but he wasn’t prepared to make that statement to his family. Not without knowing that he was definitely not straight at least. And he knew that Adam was definitely not straight from all his jokes about how exhausting straight people could be and how gay he was. So Cypress started something relatively serious with Adam. Where they would actually go on dates (one town over) and they would hang out at Adam’s house (because his parents couldn’t know he was hanging out with an unpopular, lower class kid because it could get around to Max and his other friends) and Adam taught Cypress a lot of what he knew in all the areas of being in a relationship. It went on for months.

      But nothing good could ever really last, right? Adam started to get restless and upset when he realized how flakey Cypress could be. He’d approach him at school to talk about what was going on between them and Cypress would just lash out, insulting him for being a dorky, gay art kid and overreacting to every little thing. It never got to the point of a physical altercation, but soon the insults spilled into their private time with each other too. He would just insult Adam casually without realizing how much it would hurt someone that he considered his boyfriend. Eventually, Adam had enough of it. Adam told Cypress that he needed to come out to his parents and friends if he wanted to stay his boyfriend. Which, admittedly, was not the best solution but he was grasping at straws towards the end.

     Cypress lashed out at him though and went on about how that was terrible and unfair of him to do, which was just further emotionally abusive to Adam. After that, Cypress didn’t hear from his boyfriend again. Not. Once. Cypress went to one of Adam’s friends after a few weeks, wondering why he hadn’t even seen Adam around the school or heard from him (because he wasn’t answering his texts) and his friend said that Adam had moved away, his mother was in the military and got reassigned. And that sounded fake because Cypress remembered from all the times he had been to Adam’s house, neither of his parents were military… But Cypress just let it go. It was out of his control at that point and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to do anything to fix any of it if he could. Adam was gone, and now Cy could do what he wanted to do with his life and his sexuality.

     The boy began to sleep around more, claiming that it was more enjoyable than being in the committed and loving relationship he had with Adam. Despite that being incredibly toxic for Cypress’ poor boyfriend, he still... Missed it. Even though he’d never outright admit that. To anyone. Ever. He was happy and he felt free and he felt more free to speak his mind again. Cypress started acting shittier and shittier the more he was away from Adam and the more that it settled in that his boyfriend had fucking moved away because of how shitty he was. It was just pitiful and weak honestly, Cypress knew that it wasn’t okay how he treated him but he wasn’t going to admit to say that he regretted it or anything. Because he really didn’t.

                                                                 ○♔●♕●♔○

     About a month or so after Adam had left (and Cypress had embraced his whole shitty self once more) he made a... More than dismissive comment towards a friend that he still somewhat regrets to this day. They were hanging out after school at McDonalds because that’s where the Theatre Kids went if they didn’t have rehearsal, and they were all just talking about life and school and relationships, all the cheesy, cliche, regrettable shit that teenagers would talk about. And Teddy, one of Cypress’ few non-binary friends, was making a joke about how much they wanted to die, because that was just how Teddy was. They made jokes like that and usually it was amusing, but something in Cypress had broken, he couldn’t just laugh at the joke like he normally did. He couldn’t just let Teddy get away with that. He snapped and he said, “God, if you want to die so much, do us all a favor and fucking do something about it already or stop saying how you crave death so much.”

      That’s the one thing that Cypress has ever actually regretted. Cypress actually liked being Teddy’s friend because they weren’t... Terrible. They were a little morally gray, but they were fun to be around and they threw great parties and shared Cy’s fascination with plants and he just... Couldn’t believe what happened. But he couldn’t be sure that it was even his own fault. There were a ton of factors that went into someone killing themself! How could Cypress even be sure that it was his fault? He just... Made a shitty comment. And it’s not like anyone blamed him, because Teddy apparently left notes for quite a few people, include Cypress himself, before... They did it. Not once did they blame him, no one that loved Teddy dearly blamed Cypress. Cypress doesn’t know if Teddy blamed him though. He doesn’t actually know for sure if it was actually because of him. He hasn’t read his letter, even though he carries it with him everywhere. That’s the one truly inexcusable thing he’s done and he needs to remind himself daily that... He can never let his comments go that far again.

     After Teddy’s death, time stopped existing almost and Cypress drifted back into his main group with Max. He was caught up on everything he had missed. The pranking of Jimmy St. Clair, which he found thoroughly amusing, and how the idiot actually fell in love with her! It was just... Too great. It was just the twisted pick me up that he needed. And while he personally decided to stay out of all of it, he still enjoyed watching from the sidelines. It was comforting, in a way, to know that his cousin was just as terrible as he could be. The Bronte’s were similar in how they lived their lives, they didn’t seem to care about who they hurt as long as they were having fun. There was a path of destruction behind them as they walked usually. While Max had more helpers, Cypress tended to make that path all on his own.

                                                                  ○♔●♕●♔○

       Things fell back into their original pace, life felt normal again. Cypress ran track and field and he hung out with the rich degenerates and he enjoyed life. His senior year was going well, and then... Homecoming happened. And because he didn’t hang out with all the same people all the time, he was fortunate enough to not end up at the church after homecoming... And because he was lucky like that, he couldn’t understand what had changed inside of his best friend. Cypress had no idea what happened to Max after homecoming and maybe that was a good thing, because while he was terrible and didn’t understand, he wasn’t forced through the trauma that Max had been forced through just because someone had been hurt by her. 

      Soon, Max Bronte was gone. She had gone to Plath to be rehabilitated, but the Bronte families thought that wasn’t enough. Not only did Max need to be fixed, but she needed a guardian. And who better to send than their emotionally unavailable and abusive nephew/son that was Max’s age? Because they’re close! Because everyone’s family! And yet, no one in the Bronte families seemed to notice how much it bug Cypress that he had to go ensure that Max was fixed and returned her former, homecoming queen glory. But, not that he’d admit it ever, maybe just maybe... Cypress himself could benefit from Plath. There were heavy memories in their hometown for him as well and the farther away he got from them the sooner, the better.

                                 THOUGH THIS IS JUST A RUMOR AFTER ALL.

[my-hero-aaron]

Hypnotic

This started out as a throwaway scenario and kinda spiraled into something far more dramatic. Enjoy!

Kailey stood there, arms limp at her sides, with a glaze clearly forming over her gaze, and I strained against invisible bonds not far away from her side. This villain’s quirk was certainly remarkable, I guess hypnosis wasn’t nearly as much of a parlor trick in this guy’s hands.

“My my my, young lady. Your friend there doesn’t seem to be too much of a fan of the sort of hold I have on you, hm? I could indeed let you go, but what would be the fun in that? I do after all have your mind here, in the palm of my hand.” He gestured gradiosely to a small crystal cradled in his grasp, as if to suggest he’d distilled her into it.

“The question then becomes, just what should I do with this lovely new toy of mine? With a powerful quirk like yours, you would be no small tool.” He paused for a moment, feigning deep thought with a grasp upon his chin.

“Then again my dear child, you could be a boon of a completely different sort. I’ve been meaning to build up some useful favors, and I’m sure there’s someone up high who has use for a powerful pawn such as yourself.” Had I been free to move, I would have recoiled at best at the thought he had presented. My best friend was not a mere commodity to be handed off! My raging musings were cut off, however, by the continuation of his, for lack of a better word, monologue.

“Of course, were I feeling particularly vicious, I could just let this pretty little crystal go, hm? That would take you out of the equation, and it’s been a while since I’ve destroyed a would-be hero.” His grip on the crystal shifted a bit, and it fell for a soul-crushing moment.. Only to (thankfully) dangle a few inches from his fingers.

“Ah, my dear, be a good little girl and simply follow this crystal with your eyes, watch your time tick away with every swirling swing..” I felt my jaw clench of its own accord as the destruction of my best friend once again loomed large..

Wait, my jaw just clenched? That means I can MOVE! I mused, the thought flashing across the barren expanse of my enthralled mind, and this realization along with the threat to the one person I cared about most filled my limbs with a cold, tingling rush, and as the pulse swept through me, the curious ropes that bound me shattered with a strangely audible snap. Immediately, my body sprung into motion, my breath clouding in front of me at the change in temperature. The distance between myself and the otherwise occupied villain shrank with a great haste, and I snatched the crystal from between his fingers with a deft motion. Startled, he straightened up, and let out a booming laugh.

“My dear lad, did you really believe the crystal had anything to do with my control of that girl of yours? An admirable attempt you’ve made, this I will allow, but unfortunately, I’m just getting started!” A loud snap rang around the room at the end of his sentence, and I felt the energy in my body drain into my feet, my moment of freedom grinding to a halt as the villain began to pace, his focus shifted to myself.

“Speaking of being impressed, you managed to break a suggestion! Well done, but you still fell into my thrall. I get the sense that you’re holding back a bit! This I simply cannot allow, you see, I engaged you two as I was itching for a good old fashioned fight!” A second snap emanated from his fingers, and I felt my gaze magnetize to his eyes, which seemed to be endless pools, drawing me in... The world began to descend into a haze, and the hypnotist shook his head, tutting a bit as he spoke.

“What a good boy, trancing so well with so little training! As I said, however, I want a fight! Heed my command: Don’t hold back.” His last three words seemed to reverberate throughout my head, and I felt a boldness once again boil in my veins, cold this time crawling up my neck to ensconce my head. “Now, both of you, snap out of it, and fight me!”

The fog weighing my thoughts down cleared in a mere moment, and before I could react to finally being free of the crushing blurriness, my body had reacted for me, a fist lashing out to strike my former captor’s chin with such force he stumbled backwards. My second blow, more mindful, had force of a different kind behind it, and the villain lost his footing further thanks to the expanding circle of ice beneath our feet. Unable to remain standing, he slipped and fell, my leg lashing out to strike him before he’d hit the ground. The intensity of this strike threw him away slightly, and the heavy crack his head made resounding against the concrete made it clear: with a mere three blows, this villain was down for the count.

Kailey shook her head at my side, just now working the much deeper rooted influence out of her head, and gaped at me, stammering, “A-Aaron, did you just..?”

“Well he’s not dead, his chest is moving!”

“Yeah, but you basically kicked him across the room so hard he passed out!”

“There were punches there too, I pride myself on using my hands!” I certainly wouldn’t mind using my hands on her, either. I mentally chastised myself, setting my teeth. Now was absolutely NOT the time for lewd thoughts about my best friend. However, before I could beat myself up too hard, I noticed the ruddy blush painted onto Kailey’s face.

“A-A-Aaron-!” Kailey admonished me, a slap digging into my arm coming almost reflexively along with her shocked cry.

“What’s got you all worked up, I just said I punched the guy!” I’d like to get you all worked up later. Jeez, the lewd thoughts train is REALLY in the station today.

“AARON!” Kailey cried once again, the slap this time striking my face.

“Kails, what in the WORLD are you slapping me for?” I grumbled, rubbing dramatically at my cheek.

“wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT IN THE WORLD, YOU JUST GOT REALLY LEWD TWICE IN A ROW!” Her shouting did me no favors in comprehending what had caused the outburst in the first place, and I blinked in confusion.

“W-well sure, I had a few lewd thoughts squirm their way into my noggin, but it’s not like you can read minds or something.. Wait, can you? Are you getting a new abili-”

“Aaron. You said all that OUT LOUD, you DINGUS!” Kailey’s hands thrusted toward me as if to emphasize my dingoloidity, and the flush on her cheeks went from shocked to annoyed in character in a flash.

“I... no I didn’t? Both of those thoughts were firmly planted inside my noggin!” There’s something I’d like to fi-

My thought ground to a halt as Kailey’s hand slapped over my mouth, and I felt my face scrunch in confusion. How in the world could her putting her hand over my mouth have stopped my thought? Unless... Oh GOD SHE’S RIGHT I’M SPEAKING MY THOUGHTS WHAT DO I DO??

“Aaron, buddy, you’re not gonna be able to talk with my hand over your mouth, and I know you know that, so I don’t know why you’re trying to speak.” Kailey’s hand fell from my face, and I bit at my lip before speaking.

“Kailey, why does everything I think keep pouring out of my mouth? What am I gonna do?” Other than you, of course.  

“Aaron PLEASE at least try not to have such lewd thoughts!”

“D’you think I’m trying to have them? They just keep happening!”

“Well, maybe it’ll wear off? Let’s just head home.”