#anyway... once again another reason to hate the summer

[chrisbangs]

zzz

[breadbrobin]

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

[espinosaurusrexex]

The Karens of the World

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader modern au

summary: Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

a/n: So I tried this website @nana1000night (make sure to check out their own chats) posted about and my ideas just started overflowing. I wrote this so quick, there may be some tenses errors, but the concept was so fun, I hope you like it.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fake dating trope, grumpy!Bucky AND protective!Bucky, bullying, a Karen (this should say it all, really), self-doubt, body dysmorphia, mentions of violence, and sooooo much fluff!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ This movie altered my brain chemistry and also he looks so good OKAY BYE!

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that now, I really need your help,” you plead with a solid stare. But Bucky just broodily stares back at you with an unfazed expression. “Just answer the question, please.”

For a moment it seems as though he‘s squinting his eyes even more at you, trying to assess whether you are kidding or not. But you aren’t. You are in desperate need of help.

“Fine,” he finally breaks.

“Yes!” You exclaim before collecting yourself. “I mean: cool, cool... So, I’ll send you the details later and we can go from there.” You are a little nervous, but that’s what stressful situations do to you. And well, today definitely categorized as one. 

“You’re a great friend, you know that, Buck? The best there is!” A desperate attempt to save the situation, but Bucky isn’t having it.

“Yeah, kid. Text me, do... whatever.” He huffs before he stands up to leave. You just wrinkle your nose at the little nickname he frequently calls you. It is stupid, but you don’t want him to call you ‘kid’. You would prefer it if he called you 'doll' or 'sweetheart' like he does all the other women. Hell, you’d even settle for your actual name, but he never calls you that. 

You watch as he walks towards the door, but before he reaches it, he turns one more time just to send another annoyed look your way. Talk about being childish.

That was a week ago. And Bucky and you did, in fact, not ‘discuss the details later’. Bucky has merely stared at your messages, cursing himself for having agreed to the stupid plan you laid upon him. But he was committed to doing it anyway and the sooner it was over, the better.

You stare at your phone in silence, the simple text from Bucky making your stomach turn over and over. 

I’ll be there.

He has written. And now there is no going back. Which is what you had planned, right? But Somehow, you are still nervous about the whole situation. 

You stand in front of the mirror while tugging on the outfit you picked out for today. It is simple and light - perfect for a summer barbecue party. But you can’t help yourself when you look at your reflection. Your aunt Karen would have something mean to say about it anyway - she always does. And if it isn’t the lack of a partner (which is a problem you have temporarily solved for the day), it will be your body or your hair, or the way you speak, or the things you pursue in life. Karen is a textbook housewife, who has nothing to do all day but organize PTA meetings and condescend to everyone who doesn’t live up to her standards. And she has invited to her annual 4th of July party in her suburban family home in New Jersey. It wouldn’t bother you that much if meeting her wouldn’t always be connected to a huge amount of self-doubt and general mental chaos. It just bothers you that Karen makes you hate the parts about yourself you have never looked at critically before. 

Your phone pings again - Bucky is here. 

He just sits in the parking lot of your apartment building, his hands clenching the steering wheel tightly, and his eyes - as always - broodily staring ahead. He’s never done anything like this - He’s never pretended to be in an actual relationship. What if something goes wrong? What if they all see through this charade? Bucky wants to help you with your little ‘family problem’, as you have called it, but at the same time, he hates the situation he finds himself in because of it.

Bucky sits up straighter when he finally sees you running out of the door and towards his muddy truck. You look pretty, even if your hair is a little tousled from the small run you just did.

“Hey,” you greet with a smile after Bucky stares for a little too long. “Nice shirt.” 

Bucky looks down on himself. He is wearing a striped short sleeve button-up that fits him very well, and you have to admit, that your eyes linger on the strip of skin revealed by the two undone buttons a little too long before they sway back to the window when you get inside his car. You feel your skin go up in flames at the thought of it again. Hopefully, this will all go well. 

He isn't used to compliments, Bucky notes as he starts the car and backs out of the parking lot. This is just a courtesy; an easy greeting from a friend - no, actually his fake girlfriend for today - to loosen up the tension both of them feel. Bucky clears his throat while making a conscious effort to look away from the woman in his car, who makes him feel kind of... nervous all of a sudden.

The car ride is silent: no music, just the humming of the engine roaring in the background as you stare out the window and watch the trees pass by. Though when Bucky finally pulls into your aunt's neighborhood, you tense up and your hands become clammy - this feels like a really stupid idea all of a sudden. 

Bucky parks the car on the street in front of your aunt’s huge house and looks at you. He raises an eyebrow upon noticing how timid you suddenly look.

Crap. Had this been your plan all along? To get him to agree to pose as your fake boyfriend, to have to face your terrible aunt?

Bucky swallows thickly when he takes in your state. “Do we really have to go in?” He asks still hopeful that you would just allow him to turn around again, but that obviously doesn’t happen. 

“Unfortunately, we do.” You sigh after taking a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Just a little white lie to get you through the day. It will be over before you know it. “Thank you again for doing this Bucky, it really means a lot.” You smile one last time and then you get out of the car. 

Bucky just watches as you walk towards the suburban home, impatiently waiting for him on the sidewalk where the driveway begins. He isn’t ready for this, but he had promised you.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your heart begins pumping in your chest when Bucky straightens up and takes your hand in his, the other hiding in his pocket. This is actually kinda nice. A squeeze of a hand then the ring of the doorbell. Two times. 

“Oh, how wonderful you finally made it!” A slender woman with a blonde bob opens the door with a wide smile: Aunt Karen. “More than fashionably late, I see.” And then her eyes wander beside you where Bucky stands tall and steady with his hand still etched in yours. “Oh my, honey, is this the boyfriend you’ve been telling me about?”

Her eyes shine and for a moment it looks as though they were to pop out of her head from the way she’s gawking at Bucky. Okay, you get it, Bucky is good-looking. No need to think about breaking up your own marriage about it. Your roll your eyes before reminding yourself that you should restrain. The day has just started and you are ready to leave again. 

Bucky looks at you uncomfortably, but your hand in his grounds him a little bit. He can’t make you deal with it alone anymore. He agreed to help you and this is - unfortunately - his mess as well now. God, he should remind himself to not be this stupid more often.

“Yes,” he swallows, “we are... uh... seeing each other.” Great job, that definitely didn’t sound forced. Bucky looks between you and your aunt for a moment, trying not to cringe at his own words. 

You just send him an apologetic look before entering the house and let Karen pull you into a tight hug. 

“Well, you have certainly gained little since the last time I saw you, I can barely fit my arms around you, honey,” Karen jokes but it hits deeper than that. “Must be that relationship weight, don’t we know it, huh?” Unbelievable, not even one minute in and she is already going at it. 

You try to ignore the anxiety pooling up in your stomach as you watch Bucky squeeze aunt Karen’s hand a little too tightly. There’s nothing wrong with you, but these comments never cease to make you hate yourself a little bit.

Bucky smiles when he notices the discomfort on Karen's face after the handshake. She silently shakes her hand out and forces a bright smile, but he thinks the message came through. So, he decides against saying something just yet.

“Come on into the yard, the guests are all there!” The blonde woman rushes and leads you through the kitchen and out onto the porch from which you have a nice view of the party. There is a buffet set up, your uncle is at the grill, talking it up with his friends and the rest of the crowd is scattered across the lawn. Some people are playing corn hole and if the hostess weren’t such a pain in the ass, you could probably enjoy this party. 

Luckily, Karen disappeared into the crowd once she greeted you, now there’s only Bucky and you.

“Thank God you’re here! I couldn’t stand talking to Grandpa Stan a minute longer. He’s all about his World War Two stories again.” An annoyed redhead approaches you from the side and your mood instantly lightens. You turn and see Tasha greet you with open arms and a playful smile. “You look nice!” She says upon seeing your expression and her smile quickly falters.

“Oh, no. What did she do this time?” She watches intensely, her hands squeezing your shoulders, but now that your cousin is here, there is no need to dwell in the state of depression Karen has put you in. 

Bucky just stays silent as he watches you interact with the redhead. He’s trying to stay off to the side, as he doesn’t really know anyone very well. He’s not a social person, which was yet another reason why this whole thing had been a bad idea from the start, but now that he has seen why you needed a fake boyfriend, he is determined to honor his role for the day. He’d do anything to make Karen feel defeated and unsupported after what he has just witnessed. Because whether he likes it or not, you are his friend, and nobody messed with his friends like that. 

A sense of protection overtakes him every time he sees Karen pass by close to the both of you, And Bucky has to restrain himself a couple too many times from laying his arm around you. 

He watches people laughing and talking from afar, his face blank from expression, his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to you. 

“Tasha this is Bucky.” You suddenly say and pull him closer, your arm remains around him and he is kind of glad that you officially give him permission to touch in this fake relationship. He blushes a little startled at the gesture anyway. He’s not used to it, but it's kind of nice. 

“Bucky Barnes, right? Yeah, I’ve heard my mother talk about you.” Tasha says and Bucky just rolls his eyes. “And I see you’ve met her, too.” She laughs and Bucky knows she’s an ally. “I wish you good luck for today, our family is a menace.”

“Thanks.” Bucky looks over to Karen who is mingling with her guests and a wave of disgust overcomes him. “Hopefully she won’t ruin this holiday.”

“Oh, she will. You can count on it, actually. But with time you’ll learn to deal with it. We have Karen bingo cards at every event to cross off things she does or says. It’s fun if you make it fun. Don’t let her antics bother you too much. The suburbs are the only place she has something to say and she holds on to it for dear life... I pity her most of the time.” Tasha rambles on and on and Bucky takes a liking to her with every word. He smiles and so do you. 

“Anyway, I gotta get Grandpa a beer but feel free to mingle, and,” Tasha turns to you as she grabs your hand for a brief moment, her eyes staring into yours intently. “Come find me if she gets too much, okay?”

You just nod at your cousin. Tasha is amazing and she always manages to calm you down after yet another unpleasant encounter with your aunt. God knows why she was cursed with such a pain of a mother, but Tasha makes the best out of it. 

Bucky smiles and looks at Tasha walking away. He seems to have already relaxed with her somewhat, so he tries to take her advice and ignore Karen’s antics. Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It's about 30 minutes later when you are off to talk to some other family members who haven’t seen you in a while and Bucky has decided to check out the buffet. He eats in silence, his gaze swaying over the yard - people watching. He finds comfort in it every now and then. But unfortunately, his peace isn’t lasting long. 

“So Bucky, tell me. How did you and my niece meet?” Karen appears next to him and holds out a bottle of beer to him.

Bucky is a little startled but he swallows his hot dog and uses the time to come up with a story. What would you want him to say? Some romantic crap, probably, but Bucky would much rather tell her that you met at a burn-all-Karens petition downtown. Still, he can’t completely ignore his intrusive thoughts, so he simply takes the bottle and answers with a straight face as he watches Karen's expression falter.

“In prison.” Hopefully, this would shut her up.

"Oh? You are a prison guard?” She asks with intrigue, adamant that he is still the glorious man she makes him out to be, and Bucky just sends her a knowing smile. 

“Something like that.”

The blonde bob shakes in his peripheral. “Well, it was only a matter of time until she would end up there.” Karen shrugs but Bucky feels anger bubbling inside him. 

“What do you even mean by that?” It becomes harder to control himself now. 

Your eyes move over to Bucky as you let your relative’s speech about the perfect lawn mower pass by you in a breeze. He looks slightly irritated and uncomfortable, his shoulders are tense but he’s holding up well, and Karen doesn’t seem to suspect anything. Of course she doesn’t, though, she is shallow. 

“I just can't seem to believe that an attractive and interesting man such as yourself would settle for someone so... bland.” And just like that, snobbish middle-aged white women made it to the top of his blacklist. 

Karen sips on her cocktail with a winning smile, she must have known how insecure she could make you with the confidence that radiated off of her right now. 

The paper plate in Bucky’s hand crumbles at her words. His anger is clearly written on his features, turning solid by the second. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

It just bursts out of him, he can’t stop it - it just feels right. How dare this bitch call you boring? You of all people and not him? The anger crawls up his neck with every second he has to spend close to your aunt and at one point he can’t take it anymore.

“Bingo!” Someone yells from the back of the yard, but Bucky just looks at Karen with his death stare.

“Your niece is the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. She’s smart and kind and courageous and so unbelievably goodhearted. You don’t know how lucky you are to have her in your life. And yet all you do is patronize her. The fact that you don’t see that is seriously pathetic. You are a grown woman, for god’s sake. I highly recommend that you fix your attitude or I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he sneers into Karen's flabbergasted face. 

The whole party has gone quiet. People have stopped talking and are all turned to look at the disturbance with the potential to bring far more entertainment than anything else that they’re doing. 

You decide to intervene before something else happens. You rush towards Bucky after excusing yourself and drag him out of the yard with a solid ‘Can I talk to you, babe?’. Bucky just glares at Karen for good measure before he lets himself be led away by you. He’s tense, with his hands clenching in fists, he looks like he’s ready to strangle your aunt - as if there is a lot more at play than your feelings in his response to her. 

“I swear... that woman...” He grumbles with vicious eyes, he grinds his teeth in frustration and the muscles in his jaw pop a little. 

“I know, but... well, that’s just how she is.”

“How have you gone this long without knocking her over with a bat?” You need to refrain from laughing out loud at Bucky’s comment.

“I can’t change it. Punching her won’t help. But, hey,” you push a white paper into his hand and upon short inspection, he realizes it’s a bingo card. “We can make fun of it. New round just started.”

You hug him and push a quick kiss to his cheek before you step back and let him calm down a bit. Bucky has to smile at the card in his hand and he looks down to hide the small blush creeping over the heated spot on his cheek. His hand covers the place you kissed and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When did he start feeling this way?

“Come on now. I want you to meet my Grandpa. I think you’ll get along well.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Meet Stan, my grandfather.” You say once you reach the small circle of people that gathered around your grandfather. 

“Pleased to meet you, sir. My name’s Bucky Barnes.” You watch them shake hands and Stan’s eyes brighten at the additional listener.

“Pleasure to meet you, young man. Grab yourself a beer and sit down I was just about to tell the story of how a grenade ended up going off right next to me.” 

You exchange a short look with Tasha who has heard the story about as often as you have before, but when your eyes sway to Bucky, you notice the intrigue in his body language. He scrambles to sit down close to Stan with his hands folded over his knees.

“You’re telling me that you survived a grenade? A literal grenade?” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up and it's like watching a child on Christmas Day. “You’re either tough as nails or incredibly lucky, sir.”

So, hooking Bucky up with your grandpa was a great success. He seemed to be the first person that was actually interested in Stan’s stories from the war. And while you had to not worry about Karen steering up more arguments with Bucky anymore, you watch him interact with the rest of your family with awe.

The day passes by and Bucky seems to catch a conversation with Stan every now and then. He’s interested in history and your grandfather seems like the perfect source for the answers he’s been seeking. But when the moon rises and the fireworks have died down, you decide it's time to go home. 

Bucky is talking to your grandfather again when you approach him from behind. In a weird shoot of confidence, you wrap your arms around him and place a gentle kiss on his shoulder. 

“Are you ready to go home?” You’re a little nervous but you don’t pull away, and Bucky is strangely content with the amount of physical contact he’s gotten today. Still, he tries to stuff the weird feelings in his chest away when he turns in your arms. 

“Yeah,” he looks at you with soft eyes, “I think I’m ready to go home.” But you can’t help but think that his statement holds a little more than the answer to your question. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You smile when Bucky opens the car door for you. You didn’t expect it, and it almost looks as if Bucky didn’t expect it either, but you’re not complaining. He starts the car in silence but this time, there is faint music coming from the radio. The street lights pass by the window as you look out until your apartment complex comes into view. 

Once the car is parked again, you turn around to Bucky. He makes no effort to move and it doesn’t bother you at all. It’s nice in the car. Cool from the AC and Bucky’s presence is a pleasant addition to the calm the car ride home has brought to you.

“Thank you for coming with me today. I know it wasn’t exactly what you expected and I am so sorry for my family. They are a lot... I just...” You fumble with your fingers before looking back up at him again. “I don’t think I would have survived this party without you. It really means a lot.” You finally finish and it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Bucky is quiet for a while, thinking about what you have just said. He feels weird thinking about how many of these family gatherings you had to endure without anyone stepping up for you before, and he has the strong urge to just cradle you in his arms and protect you from all the Karens of the world - let nothing ever touch you like that again. He had seen your heart break a little today and he didn’t like it at all. 

His eyes avert from the windshield when he turns to you and gazes into your eyes intently. There’s a lot going on in them, but it all radiates comfort to you. And then, almost like a button has been pushed, he grabs your chin and pulls you closer, his hand running down your cheek. There’s a moment of complete standstill. Everything is zeroing in on him and then, after a beat or two, he pulls you into him and kisses you. 

It's short and it's sweet but it holds more feelings than you have ever gotten from a kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes just run over your face. He doesn’t know what just happened and neither do you. It’s like a wild dream - a good one.

“What... what was that for?” Your whisper barely reaches his ears and Bucky struggles to construct a proper sentence with the way your eyes lock with his in awe.

“I... It’s... I just... couldn’t help myself,” he confesses while still shaking out of his trance. Uh oh. What if this was a mistake? 

He attempts to pull away reluctantly, but you stop him. “No, no it’s fine,” you grab his hand and place it back on your face, “do it again, please.”

Bucky’s breath staggers when you say that and for a moment, he freezes completely. Is this really happening? And how is he feeling like this when he didn’t even see you this way when this day started? 

The grip on his wrist is gentle, but he’s glued to you. Everything, every sense of his is pulled in your direction until you completely consume him. And he lets it happen. You haul him onto another kiss and this one is even better - more passionate, more... just more. He can’t get enough of you and he wonders how he has gone so long without it - this feeling of flying when you touch him.

Your hand grabs his shoulder and your fingers push into his tender muscles. It feels good, though and Bucky strives to have you even closer. The warmth is all-consuming but he doesn’t mind in the slightest, that the night outside his car is a hundred degrees or that just an hour ago this was all pretend. It certainly isn’t anymore.

“I really like you, Bucky. I hope my family didn’t chase you away. I know that they can be a handful sometimes, but you handled them so well and-“

“Doll,” Bucky stops you and your heart skips at the nickname. His eyes are shining in the dim light falling through the windshield, but you can still see every speck of grey in the deep blue. He’s trying to convey how he feels, but he believes it’s not enough. His nose nudges yours and then he whispers softly: “I really like you, too.”

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @rassvetsky @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar

[therobinswayne]

i finally got another stylus so i can draw again and i made a relativity falls!caryn pines bc i love her

here's what i think about her

michael, her father, was 17 years younger than mabel and dipper

she was born when he was only 16

growing up, she visited the mystery shack in it's very formative years and thought her auntie, madame mystery, was the coolest person ever

she had an obsession with the mystical also, but focused in witchy things and seeing the future.

when she was 15, her parents had another baby. she felt very left behind by this, and started dating fillbrick, a 20-something asshole who worked with her dad.

she got pregnant at only 16, and was super excited to be amother. obviously she faced the general teen mother issues, but she was excited to have a baby.

she moved in with fillbrick when he found out, even though her parents never kicked her out. she just wanted her kids to have a whole family.

fillbrick insisted on naming their son stan, after his late father. in return, caryn told him she would, but he would be having her last name.

when they found out they were having twins, filbrick insited that there was no need to find another name, since they had agreed on stan. she came up with stanley and stanford to keep the peace with him.

she invited her auntie to see her give birth, because she was fun and kooky and everyhting that she wanted to be. mabel was the first one to hold the boys other than herself.

after the boys were born, her parents were regular babysitter while she finished her high school degree.

she married fillbrick the day after her 18th birthday. she cried the whole morning. her mother begged her to just run away and leave him behind. she married him anyway.

once she graduated, she worked as a waitress while trying to start up a psychic business. from a string of total accidents, she became the star of her own psychic tv show and moved the family to california.

for years, she did her best to keep her temper with fillbrick, since she hated fighting in front of the kids. she reminds herself that they need to be together so there's another paycheck. so the boys have a father.

she keeps coming up with reasons to stay.

the year the boys are 12, she finds it harder and harder to find reasons. she hates fighting in front of her sons, but she hated fillbrick more.

she sends the two of them to spend a summer with her favorite aunt while she figures out divorce proceedings, how to keep full custody of them for herself, how to get a restraining order against her husband, and how to do it all without him knowing until he absolutely has to.

she has two tattoos, one on her stomach of a crystal ball and one on her arms that says "Lee & Ford"

just. i love caryn pines very much and i refuse to believe that anyone related to dipper and mabel would actually raise fillbrick, so i think this is more fun.

[doki-doki-imagines]

"You want to go out for a walk? To relax a bit." You ask Kenshi, who nods at your proposal.

That's why you now find yourself walking through the forest of Wu Shi Academy on your free day. The orange uniforms left at home replaced by your more comfortable clothes.

You feel at ease with Kenshi, a sense of comfort you couldn't find with Liu Kang, as his god status never let you fully relax around him, nor with Raiden and Kung Lao, nice guys but with minds too concentrated on themselves, for a reason or another.

The sun shines bright in the sky, but summer will soon leave his place to autumn, and its rays aren't as powerful as the previous months. You walk ahead Kenshi, more used to these paths forgotten by men where nature is overtaking the grey path made before.

"Look! It's pomegranates." You point toward a tree to your left, big red fruits hanging from the branches.

"You want to eat one?" Kenshi asks, now next to you.

"No, I like them, but it will be a pain to get them. They are so high." You say, still looking up at them.

Kenshi looks at you, but you don't notice it, then he walks towards the tree and you finally see him now climbing the plant.

"Wait, Kenshi! You'll get dirty." You shout at him, but it is too late, the black-haired guy already plucked the fruit from the tree and jumped on the ground.

"Let's sit down there." He tells you, head nods toward the staircase at the end of the abandoned path, pink flowers at the side and between the cement.

"Okay, but look! Now you are all dirty. I'm so s-"

"I don't mind it." Kenshi tells you, brushing away your hands that were trying to clean the dust and dirt from his sky-blue shirt. "I'll wash it when we go back to the temple."

You sit next to him, not too near, not too far; a comfortable space where you hope Kenshi finds ease too. Your eyes land on his hands, tattoos, a bit faded by time, color his hands, his thumb digging into the apex of the fruit, fingers strong enough to break the thick red skin of the pomegranate.

Kenshi winces when the red sticky juice covers his hand, for a moment you guess ugly memories of his past may have resurfaced, but then you finally understand, thanks to an event of a few days before.

----

"Come on Kenshi! Peel the orange yourself if you want it so much." Johnny whines, before peeling the fruit anyway, giving the black-haired guy a slice of it. "I hate to get my hands dirty. Even more, if they also get sticky."

Johnny blabbers about being "sure you don't always mind having your hands sticky" but your attention gets caught by something else and you didn't listen to them.

----

"Here, take some." Kenshi says, voice low and calm. "Thank you." You reply, right hand forming a cup to take some of the seeds. "I'm sorry for not breaking the fruit. At least I would have been useful." You chuckle, eyes now low on the ground under your feet.

"I don't mind." Kenshi replies, spitting the white seed on the ground, head turned not to show you the gesture.

You know he minds, you can even see it by the twitch of his fingers, desperately trying to brush off the sticky juice.

But for you he doesn't. The urge to tap your feet like a happy kid is intense, but you keep yourself together, enjoying once again the sound of nature.

This time sitting slightly closer to him.

[aleksanderscult]

Favorite Darkling quotes

I'm gonna write my favorite Darkling quotes 'cause a) I'm bored b) I love him and miss him so much.

Anyways I'm not gonna rate them cause every one of them is fucking iconic (as he is).

Let's get into this!

"Blue sky. Once more. Speak my name once more... Don't let me be alone."

These might be my most favorite quotes of his. His last words. 'Cause with his last breath he showed that he was only human after all. Cruel and damaged, yes. But still human.

There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

I ADORE these lines. Less than 24 hours ago two Grisha tried to kill him (one of them a supposed friend) and what did he tried to do after that? Create a safe space for his kind in order for them not to go through what they went through. If he's the villain for this then I wish we had this kind of villain in our world.

‌"All men can be made fools."

OKAY OKAY LISTEN. I love this line for two reasons. Firstly, cause it's true. Every person can be made a fool. BUT! Secondly and most importantly, he hints to Mal and Alina (Alina actually cause Mal didn't know he was there) that he was made a fool too because of Alina. He fell in love with her and felt hope for the first time after centuries that this new person would be like him, live with him and spend eternities together. He would no longer be alone. And she seemed that she wanted him too as far as he could tell. And then what happened? She run off, found Mal and turned her back on him and their country. That mostly disappointed him, I think. In a large degree. And he must have thought what a fool he was to trust her and fall for her. Hence that amazing line.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

And boy did he not make it? Years after his death in R&R and people still talk about him. He made a mark not only on the world but on people too (no pun intended for Genya I swear. I love her😭). He made a huge impact and even antis have to admit that. Actually more than the actual protagonist but anyways *coughthe fact that the villain made bigger impact than the heroes in the storycough*

"Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity."

You fucking iconic legend with your fucking iconic lines. And yes, I believe him. No matter how many decades Alina would fight him, he would be unmovable.

‌"It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more."

That line is so true. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm sorry but a quality that people often overlook about the Darkling is his wisdom. I would sit and listen for hours to him talking about life, love, death and people. After so many centuries he's so knowledgeable.

Also, this line makes me wonder how many people he had loved, lost and mourned. Because obviously he talks from experience. *Sigh* I would die to read a book about his whole life before Alina.

He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. He'd been a long time in the dark.

Yeah he's cruel and manipulative and the villain and blah, blah, blah. But again this line proves his humanity. He loves the sun (how much are you willing to bet people that his favourite season is Summer😏), he loves the sunlight, its warmth and light (another clue that Alina is his soulmate dc what anyone says). Our baby was resurrected and first things first he wanted his wife beside him and the sun to hit his face (priorities people🥹😍).

"Then I'd be alone too."

(*whispering*don't cry, don't cry, don't cry)

So. Heh. I may have a soft spot for fictional characters that suffer from loneliness. Probably because I have suffered from it too most of my life (🫠). I'm sorry but you can hate him all you want alright? No one can stop you. But people that don't feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him and what he has gone through are just useless to talk to. Most of all he wants someone to make him company to this endless sea of eternity.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.

(fuck. lost control of my tears after all)

Baby shadow summoner can control the dark and its blackness and yet he loves all colors that are bright. But most of all the sunlight.

(DARKLINA STANS RISE)

Also, he made the Grisha keftas blue, red and purple because he loved these colors the most, change my mind *sip tea*

‌"Fine. Make me your villain."

Ah, yes. The cult classic one. Honestly, this line makes me feel bad for him. Cause he has tried the peaceful solution so many times (not with just Alina but generally). At this point he's like: "Fuck it. If I have to become a monster then so be it." They leave him no choice and furthermore he's obviously grown tired of trying diplomacy.

"I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream."

I froze the first time I read this line but now I laugh every time I do. Here he shows how petty he can be and how much shame he doesn't have (in your face Mal😚).

‌"My Alina. You cannot run from me."

OKAY LISTEN

I know it sounds creepy but "my Alina" and "I'll always find you" MY DARKLINA HEART GUYS

‌"I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?"

My strategic baby. But this line is also sad. Cause he knows how Alina views him and, even if he hides it well, deep down I bet it hurts him.

‌"You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic."

Isn't that the truth tho? Our boy spitting facts once again. Also this line can be applied to other characters from different fandoms as well.

‌"I seem to be a victim of my own wishes where you are concerned."

TRANSLATION: I TEND TO FORGET ABOUT THE WORLD-DOMINATION PLAN CAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, LIVE WITH YOU, LOVE YOU, MARRY YOU, HAVE 7 KIDS WITH YOU AND DRINK SOME TEA ON THE PORCH TOGETHER WHILE THE SUNLIGHT HITS US

TRANSLATION NO2: I GOT MY ASS KICKED CAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY THINKING THAT I WAS KISSING YOU AND WOULD FINALLY HAVE THAT WEDDING THAT I WAS PLANNING BABE

Is this line a kind of love confession or what? 🥺🙃

‌"We all have our secrets."

Mostly I love this line cause it just sounds cool. But after I read the book for a second time I realized that it could tie with the "Demon in the Woods" book. It's a nice little nod. If you get it, you get it😉.

‌Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

A nice (though bittersweet) little way to end this post. 🥹

With Alina he felt human again. That part that was buried deep beneath him and rarely if not ever got out. Do you remember how she made him laugh with her honest remarks on "Shadow and Bone"? How his eyes closed and his breath stopped when she reached to stroke his cheek on R&R? How he broadly smiled when she laughed about how common his name was? That was Aleksander Morozova (especially that last part). The boy that grew up forcefully and was thrown to a cruel world too soon, too violently. They were these 400+ years that made him cruel. It was eternity that broke him. Loneliness and pain that made him withdraw. Until Alina came. And she could bring to the surface that buried, broken boy. And it felt good to him (although inconvenient too). She made him feel vulnerable. And when he was resurrected he seeked her out to feel that way again. Human.

*sigh*

Thanks for coming to my ted talk guys. 😔✌️

Feel free to write in the comments your own favorite quotes of him 😊❤️

[gayalanwake]

hey guys so I’m crazy

I KNOW NOBODY GAF i am hyperfixated with literally have no other outlet to unleash my Demons

okay so basically this isn’t like a “normal” playlist (i have one but it’s private as of rn)- it’s basically like. 2 songs per chapter. In order. like the first two songs are about chapter one, the next two songs are about chapter two, etc etc etc. HOWEVERRR I’m not adding songs for chapters that aren’t released, because they can give vague spoilers. HOWEVERRR (again) I went ahead and added the Chapter 10’s songs anyways for fun :3

im not done lol here is an analysis of every song so far bc again im hyperfixated to high hell and this took 15 hours to organize. HEART EMOJI

(Chapter One)

Welcome to Paradise:

WTP is obviously an ironic song.

Pay attention to the cracked streets

And the broken homes

Some call it slums, some call it nice

I want to take you through

A wasteland I like to call my home

Welcome to paradise

This doesn’t need explaining as to why it’s relevant to B&BH lmao. But if you view these lyrics through their perspectives, the song loses its ironic tone. This wasteland of theirs probably GENUINELY IS paradise for them. It’s kinda comedic.

However, in this song, the narrator is speaking to his mother, asking if she can hear him “whining” as well as “laughing.” And viewing that through B&BH’s perspectives adds the slightest bit of tension- a tension that is very relevant and that will be harder to hide as the story progresses.

Another thing- this song being the first on this playlist is also part of the irony, with “paradise” referencing the plot that’s about to unfold, which takes place nowhere near any kind of paradise.

Come Out and Play:

This song is supposed to initially come off as a nothing more than a reference to B&BH being deranged teenagers. And for the most part, it is. It’s placed in Chapter 1 for a reason: Nothing’s happened yet, this is just B&BH as we know them. AKA, deranged teenagers.

However! Some of the lyrics do hint at what’s to come.

It goes down the same as the thousand before

No one's getting smarter, no one's learning the score

Your never-ending spree of death and violence and hate

Is gonna tie your own rope, tie your own rope, tie your own...

Hey, man, you disrespecting me?

Take him out (you gotta keep 'em separated)

Hey, man, you talkin' back to me?!

Take him out (you gotta keep 'em separated)

Over and over and over again are B&BH going to fight each other because of- unbeknownst to them- their suppressed romantic feelings. and it’s frustrating to watch because their self-destruction is so clear and yet they remain blinded by and to their own dysfunction. This is symbolized in the song, where the narrator has called out the teenagers’ destructive behavior more than once but is continuously interrupted mid-sentence by the cycle of needless violence that never seems to end (is gonna tie your own rope, tie your own rope, tie your ownHEY!!!! MAN YOU TALKING BACK TO ME???). Nothing is getting through. Nobody’s learning.

But you probably shouldn’t separate them.

(Chapter Two)

Fat Lip:

Okay this one is not that deep LMAOOO. Unlike Come Out and Play, this one is purely about them being deranged teenagers, bc this chapter focuses more heavily on their antics.

All The Small Things:

This chapter plays out like any normal day for these characters, and because of that, it may seem like pointless. But what it’s meant to do is serve as a reference point (all of the first three chapters are, actually). What that means is that the more the plot and B&BH will spiral, these first 3 chapters are a reminder of what once was, and they go from funny to bittersweet.

ATST is about how while this chapter is more so slice of life, the “small things” are nevertheless really important to these two. AKA, this is their ten-thousandth uneventful day together, but they’re together, and that’s what they care about. I am making no sense . Fuck it we ball

(Chapter Three)

My Hero:

Reminder that Chapter 3 is the chapter when Beavis falls down the stairs and Butt-Head starts tweaking. This song is meant to be taken through Beavis’ perspective.

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

This song in the context of the fic appears to be nothing more than a sarcastic jab. Like wow Butt-Head what a great fucking hero you are. However, we know that as much as Beavis talks shit to Butt-Head, there is a very strong love within him. He will never admit it, but this guy IS his hero. This song is genuine, and Beavis doesn’t know it. We have genuine love that is being sarcastically sung. Have you guys caught on that im bad at explaining things. This is a lot better in my head

Where Are You Going:

Meanwhile! This song is through Butt-Head’s perspective!

I am no Superman

I have no reasons for you

I am no hero

Oh, that's for sure

But I do know one thing

Is where you are is where I belong

I do know where you go

That's where I want to be

see why i bolded those lines LMAO

He’s Beavis’s hero… but Butt-Head is no hero. He loves Beavis, but he is also an unhealed, traumatized victim of Joanna. He is terrifyingly emotionally stunted, violence is always his answer, and much, much more. I mean goddamn he was this close to KILLING Beavis in this chapter- not that it’s the first time either of them have tried to or have indirectly nearly caused each other’s demise and not given one singular fuck (except for the episodes Take A Bow and The Day Butt-Head Went Too Far). And in the song, the lyrics just straight up state this (again, I am no hero).

And like Beavis in the last song, these meaning of these lyrics are also something Butt-Head “doesn’t know.” At least, not consciously. He is no hero. He is cruel, borderline barbaric, oh, that’s for sure. But the love he has for Beavis is literally life-defining. Where you are is where I belong, no matter where that is, even if it’s in hell. This song represents Butt-Head’s constant psychological battle between the love he feels and the person he was abused into becoming. (Note: this symbolism can also be applied to Beavis).

(Chapter Four)

Highway to Hell:

haha look it’s the guy named butthole’s song

I’ll try to keep this one short. This song is referencing their antics at the beginning of the chapter (aka, robbery LMAO). But… also… they are literally on a highway to hell, since at the end of the chapter is the cuddling scene that sets everything off.

I’m So Into You:

not a lot to say here either! I actually already talked about this song before (on a post I cannot find! eye twitching). The lyrics are self-explanatory.

I'm so into you

I don't know what I'm gonna do

Boy, you got me so confused

I don't know what I'm gonna do

The song is also about pining for a man who is already in a relationship, which is fitting, since this is the chapter where Butt-Head meets Hannah.

(Chapter Five)

So Much To Say:

I have also spoken about this song before! And while it’s mentioned in Chapter Seven, it’s referencing the events in Chapter Five, which is why I made it Ch. 5’s song. Okay anyways

I say my hell is the closet, I'm stuck inside

haha get it. gay. okay anyways

Can't see the light

Keep it locked up inside

Don't talk about it

T-T-Talk about the weather

Yeah, yeah, yeah

What were they doing in Chapter Five again??? Ohh yeahhh keeping their feelings abt the prior night locked up inside and talking about the weather instead. It’s simple and straight-forward but fits so perfectly i love it so much lmao

Take On Me:

okay so I will be completely honest here. I stole the idea of using this song for emo reasons from The Last of Us 2 LMAOOOOO

Youtuber TLOU Explained did a beautiful analysis video on the relationship between Ellie and Dina, the game’s main characters. In one scene, Ellie sings an acoustic version of “Take On Me” to Dina, and TLOU Explained describes the song’s meaning as this,

“I also think the lyrics of this song are especially poignant, summarizing Ellie and Dina’s relationship in just one line. Ellie sings, ‘Take me on,’ including all of her grief and baggage, everything that she is now, which Dina has already shown that she’s willing to do and will do for as long as she can. Ellie sings, ‘I’ll be gone in a day or two,’ and tragically, in two days from now, the Ellie that Dina knows and loves will be gone.”

I’m only mentioning this because that video is what made me realize what the writers of The Last of Us 2 were doing- what these lyrics, sung in an upbeat tone, can symbolize in a more tragic way. And I don’t want people to think I came up with the idea of using “Take On Me” in a serious way because i absolutely did not LMAO (Note: I wouldn’t do this if this story was an original project. This is just a fanfiction, so I don’t mind taking inspiration from The Last of Us 2 so directly).

Anyways, this song is meant to represent the end of Chapter Five, when Beavis finally recalls what happened the night before and is wrestling with the weight of it all. Using such a fun song seems ironic, but 1) I am a sucker for upbeat songs playing during dramatic moments (i.e., the song “Our Love” in Episode 2 of Arcane). 2) Like I already explained, the lyrics mean more than they appear.

In the context of the fic, the verse, “Take me on,” is a dare. It’s a dare to both characters. Take on what happened between us. I dare you. I dare you to take on what it means to be in love with someone like me. Take me on.

I'll be gone

In a day or two

(Chapter Six)

Bullet With Butterfly Wings:

While both characters can work with this song, this chapter is about Butt-Head being more awful than usual to Beavis, who is trying his best to get back to normal. So, this song is about Beavis.

The world is a vampire

Sent to drain

And Butt-Head is Beavis’ world.

(I feel like the rest of the lyrics don’t really need explaining lmao)

Smile Like You Mean It:

Not too much to say here! The title of the song alone pretty much sums it up. These two (Beavis, especially) are trying to act like everything is okay, but it’s not. They’re “smiling,” but they’re not meaning it.

(Chapter Seven)

In The End:

Once again, this song was mentioned in Chapter Eight, but it’s about Chapter Seven, so that’s why it’s here.

This one is basically Beavis’ breaking point. He’s tried and tried and tried to get things back to normal, and Butt-Head is being everything but cooperative. The last song, “Smile Like You Mean It” is like his final Hail Mary, he’s demanding himself to “smile” like he means it. But in “In The End,” he’s completely given up on trying to fix things. Well, not really. We know that Beavis would never actually give up on Butt-Head. But emotions are high, he’s pissed, and Butt-Head is continuously making everything worse.

How long will he last

Before he's a creep in the past

And you're alone once again?

Will you pop up again

And be my special friend

'Til the end?

And when will that be?

I figured out what you're all about

And I don't think I like what I see

So I hope I won't be there in the end

If you come around

No More Like That:

This song is through Butt-Head’s perspective, and it’s almost a whiplash. The song is a slow, depressing ballad, which is 1) in stark contrast to the prior song, and 2) doesn’t match Butt-Head at all. But it’s representing how Butt-Head put himself aside at the end of this chapter to try to fix things with Beavis. The song is different, and so is Butt-Head’s behavior.

You know you're breaking my heart

And I'm coming apart

Calling in sick

(Chapter Eight)

Hook:

oooo one of my favorites lmao

Okay, so if you’re unaware of this song, its point is that it’s pointless. These are literally the lyrics:

It doesn't matter what I say

So long as I sing with inflection

That makes you feel I'll convey

Some inner truth or vast reflection

But I've said nothing so far

And I can keep it up for as long as it takes

And it don't matter who you are

If I'm doing my job then it's your resolve that breaks

Because the Hook brings you back

I ain't tellin' you no lie

The Hook brings you back

On that you can rely

In the context of this fic, it’s meant to call attention to how this is pretty much the state Beavis and Butt-Head are in right now. Sure, they’re no longer fighting, but have they… actually resolved anything? They didn’t directly confront the issue, and more so swept everything under the rug in an attempt to get things back to how they were. They’ve said nothing so far, but the hook brings them back, the hook being the somewhat familiarity that has returned. It doesn’t matter how shaky or unstable it is, it’s familiar, it’s the hook, and it keeps bringing them back. It doesn’t matter what they say, as long as they sing with inflection. You get it lmao. This is a banger song btw i highly recommend it

Mt. Washington:

This one is about the end of the chapter, where Beavis has a breakdown over his mother.

Face stained in the ceiling

Why does it keep saying?

I don't have to see you right now

I don't have to see you right now

This part is literal. Beavis literally stares at the ceiling the entire night instead of sleeping.

Digging like you can bury

Something that cannot die

We could wash the dirt off our hands now

Keep it from living underground

This is a call to how Beavis has suppressed everything about his mother. What she has done, what she has not done, Shirley herself. Shirley cannot die, yet Beavis keeps digging.

Lazy summer goddess

You can tell our whole empire

I don't have to see you right now

I don't have to see you right now

“Goddess” being Shirley, for she is weirdly like a divine figure to him. She has hurt him over and over again, telling him, “I don’t have to see you right now,” and yet he clings onto her.

The rest of the song repeats the verse, I don’t have to see you right now. The instruments get louder, the singer starts shouting, everything starts getting faster. It’s like a spiral. Beavis is spiraling.

(Chapter Nine)

Here Before:

This one is Van Driessen’s relationship to Beavis and Butt-Head and how he sees their mothers in everything they do, how they have been here before.

Once I had a child

He was wilder than moonlight

He could do it all

Like he'd been here before

This is about Beavis and Shirley. Wilder than moonlight (Interesting… moonlight isn’t that wild). He could do it all. She could do it all.

Then I had a child

Took his while like northern summer

And he knows it all

Like he's been here before

This is about Butt-Head and Joanna. Took his while like northern summer. He knows it all. Joanna knew it all (We see this trait in the way she talks to Van Driessen in the Chapter 8 flashback) (And of course, in reality, Butt-Head and Joanna do not know it all. It’s the exact opposite. But in their minds, it’s very true).

Somethin’ Stupid:

And of course, the love ballad between a man and a woman is about Butt-Head and Hannah. orrrrrrr is it LOL

The time is right, your perfume fills my head

The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

Something interesting here, is why would saying, “I love you,” spoil anything? The narrators are clearly in love. They are on a date, singing fondly of the experience and of one another. But in the context of the fic, as we know, Hannah saying, “I love you,” does. spoil. everything.

And the sentence repeats itself, over and over again. It’s a sweet, genuine echo in Hannah’s head. But for Butt-Head, the echo is a slow, suffocating realization.

"I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you"

aaaaaaand unless I’ve been executed by the state i will go off about the rest of the songs when the chapters are released. BUH BYEEEEEEEEEE

[acidic-eye]

Eleutheromania (LU College Au)

There was a buzz in the air, people whispering to one another as people slowly began to start filing into the dorms, excitement and disappointment of summer being over was one of the reasons for the whispering, the other was because of one person. Or rather two persons, seeing as the girl it was about was constantly followed by another. 

So what that the heir to Bosphoramus company was going to their school. The girl was probably a spoiled brat anyways. Legend dropped the last bag on the floor of his shared dorm, four of them would be sharing this year, Ravio, his loving boyfriend. Link Ordon, a guy whose face scars were the least noticeable thing about him. And Link Rainer, who Legend hates with a burning passion. 

There was nothing wrong with Rainer, it was just that he annoyed the shit out of legend, everything about Rainer seemed to annoy legend. His stupid nickname (being Legend, goddess damn Ravio for calling him Mr. Hero in front of the captain) his cheery disposition, plus his annoying want to constantly hang out. To an introvert like legend, who would rather dunk his head in boiling hot oil then go out to a party, it was torture. 

But back to Zelda. Or rather ‘flora’ as she introduced herself. There was always a boy, about three inches shorter then her, who trailed behind her, eyes alert and never making a single noise. The boy wore Techwear, (something legend respected wholly) the cargo pants strapped with a belt that let one of the straps hang loosely. His combat boots shined but scuffed up. His fingers were messed up as well, or atleast the hand that was real. One of the most noticeable things about the boy was the scars that trailed just above the mask he wore, why he wore it was a mystery to the entire campus, some theorizing on what could be under said mask. 

The boy in question looked as if he wanted anything but the center of attention, headphones always on halfway as he focused on ‘Flora’ , his blue eyes baring into her back at all times. 

His jacket was loose around his shoulders, a tank top that closed off as a turtleneck hung tightly around his lithe form, highlighting his skinny form. Ribs protruding from his sides harshly. He adjusted his jacket uncomfortably, the hooded coat black like the rest of his outfit, whether it was a fashion statement or some sort of uniform he wore for whatever job he was doing following around Flora, legend couldn’t tell. 

All he knew was his name, once again, Link. Legend vaguely wondered how the uncommon name everywhere else, was suddenly so common in the small collage. 

--------

Read more on Ao3!

[capevans3000]

Break Up - Bonus Chapter

A/N: Ahhhhh, where do I begin? I promised a bonus chapter months ago and I failed to deliver. I had good reasons though. My health took a huge hit over the last few months, where part of the few months I experienced sudden deafness in both of my ears due to a serious case of infection. The worst is over, although I am still trying to build my health back. Anyway, the bonus chapter is finally out! TBH, I am not too happy with the ending. I was stuck and I couldn’t get the ending the way I really wanted it :( I tried my best. But I am still really excited to hear what you think about it. Leave me comments/suggestions, like and reblog if you enjoyed this! :)

Fic may contain grammar errors. Characters are fictional and not based on any real persons.

TW: Mental health issues, medical emergencies, angst, jealousy

*Photo not mine!

Based on the following short series:

Break Up

Break Up - Sequel

Taglist/requests:

@ah-ri-young-deactivated20221202: It was midnight and I could not sleep. I was looking for a fic about breaking up and I found your fic and it was exactly what I wanted. You wrote everything very well. I cried while reading it. I could completely understand reader's feelings. Will you write another part for it? I liked Sam And I hated Chris so I thought how good it would be if reader move on from Chris and fall in love with Sam and Chris saw reader in a wedding dress with Sam and the happines in her eyes and the way she looks at Sam. I really want Chris to suffer because of his betrayal to reader. I hope you get this message because my tumblr doesn't work sometimes🎈

@atoosa22 : The Break up fic that you wrote is amazing. I'm team Sam btw. I almost cried and it means you're so good at writing. Will you write another part? I had a thaught that reader come back to Chris but nothing is in the way that it was. And she is in love with Sam. She left Chris and marry Sam and Chris SUFFERRRR and that makes me SATISFIED

You sat at your bed fidgeting with a rose gold necklace in your hand. Chris had given you the necklace during your first year’s anniversary. You had also given him a matching gold necklace, which he’d been wearing everywhere he went. Since that day, you had never once removed the necklace… not until that night when you left his property and left the relationship behind.

 You thought about returning the necklace to him before you left, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. Your relationship with Chris may have met an untimely end, but it doesn’t negate the once-existence of the relationship. It was a meaningful take-away from the little time you had with Chris, and you wanted to keep it as much as you wanted to forget about it. Turning the necklace around, you traced the engraving with your fingers wistfully. Chris x Y/N. The same engraving sits on the back of Chris’ necklace. “This is so that you will always feel my heart beating next to yours.” Chris had said to you the day he put the necklace on you.

 The necklace had been sitting inside a box since you moved out. But Chris’ sudden appearance at your new apartment three weeks ago had rocked whatever solid ground you thought you had managed to rebuild since the break up. This was the power he had over you. All it took was seeing and hearing his voice again, and all your past resigns vanished like an ice cube on a hot’s summer’s day. As soon as he left your apartment that night, you crashed onto the floor of your room and sobbed. All of that plasters you had pasted over the wounds peeled off in an instant and they revealed each and every brokenness he left you. It was painful to learn that the wounds were nowhere near healed in the first place as you thought they were.

 While you hadn’t agreed to Chris’ preposition to get back together again, you had agreed to co-exist with him – as friends – and maybe see how things go. Sam was worried you’d get hurt by Chris again but he respected your decision. You felt bad for Sam. You knew Sam was interested in you, and you were starting to feel the same way about him. But with the recent turn of events, you had to put a potential relationship with Sam on hold on account of Chris. You didn’t think it was fair to Sam jumping into a relationship with him when you were not in the right mental state to fully devote and love someone else. Despite the hurt, you realized Chris still held a very special place in your heart.

 Chris had been trying hard to fight for you over the last three weeks. He’d put in effort to make small but familiar gestures – gestures that he used make when he was your boyfriend. Sending you texts throughout the day to let you know he was thinking about you, sending you lunch and dinner deliveries, sending you photos and videos of Dodger… He would appear at your doorstep with your favourite tea, wine and snacks. If not for the obvious hurt hanging thick in the air, you might even think nothing between you and Chris had changed. You enjoyed Chris’ company despite the circumstance, but your heart was guarded against him. There was still that part of you that was afraid to accept Chris again. Sam, and your best friend were there too, working as gatekeepers for your heart.

 It had been three weeks since Chris returned to your life, and his ex-girlfriend was never mentioned once. That was until one night while Chris was at your place with a bottle of wine, and the two of you were having a quiet night in.

“Hey, YN, can I run something by you?” Chris asked between sips from his wine glass.

 For some reason, you felt your heart clenched by his question. He sounded so serious all of a sudden. “Sure.” You tried to hide the fear and uncertainty in your voice.

 “[Ex’s name]… she would like to meet you. You know, to explain things with you.” Chris sounded hesitant.

 You gulped down the wine you had in your glass and set it down on the table, almost too hard. Your fear turned into anger. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. The cheek of that girl. She broke you and Chris, and now she’s trying to explain things to you? You can’t think of any reasons or explanations she could have for you that you could actually accept.

 “She feels bad. She just wants to clear the air and apologise to you.” Chris continued when you said nothing. You almost burst out into an angry laughter.

 “I didn’t know you were still in contact with her. And I can hear how much you’re trying to speak for her.” You replied curtly, while pouring yourself another giant glass of wine.  You were not proud of yourself, and you knew how childish you sounded. Chris could keep his contact with anyone and speak for anyone and it was none of your business.

 “No, that’s not –“ Chris stuttered nervously. “We both just thought we should clear the air between us.”

 “We? You mean you and her.” You said again, anger bubbling underneath your breath. Hearing Chris talk about her and referring to the both of them as “we” was rubbing you the wrong way. It shouldn’t as Chris wasn’t yours anymore, and even you knew it was ridiculous of you to be upset over the word “we”. But you couldn’t help it.

 “I don’t mean it that way.” Chris knew he had just made things worse. “I’m sorry. Can we forget about this conversation?”

 You took a deep breath to calm yourself. You tried to rationalized with yourself and the situation at hand. You had given Chris a second chance, and it was only fair for you to give her a chance to explain herself too. Whatever explanation she was going to give you. That was the mature thing to do. Even if you were not prepared to accept her apologies or explanation, the least you could do was try. You agreed to the meeting.

 Sam had learned about the dinner that you were about to have with Chris and [Ex’s name] and he insisted on coming along too. He didn’t feel comfortable about you being there alone. You were thankful for Sam for looking out for you and gladly accepted his offer to join you. You could do with a friendly face at dinner.

 Chris offered to pick you up for the dinner, but you declined. You went with Sam instead. When the both of you had reached the restaurant, Sam took your hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “I’m here, all right?” Sam gave you a reassuring smile. The two of you were led into a private dining room where Chris and [ex’s name] were already waiting. Your eyes met with Chris, and immediately you could feel his posture tense up. Chris didn’t know Sam was coming for the dinner too. He didn’t like seeing you together with Sam and his jealousy and anger was hard to hide. It didn’t help that Sam was holding your hand.

 “Why are you here?” Chris couldn’t help himself scowling at Sam.

 “What concerns Y/N concerns me too.” Sam responded, confident, cool and matter-of-factly, feeding Chris’ anger even more. Without missing a beat, Sam pulled a chair out for you before Chris could do it for you.

 You glanced at Chris and saw that he was fuming. His fist was clenched around his wine glass, his knuckles white. You looked over at his ex-girlfriend and your eyes met. She was smiling at you, but somehow you could tell her smile wasn’t sincere. She broke the eye contact quickly and knowing you were still watching her, reached out to stroke Chris’ hand gently, to comfort him. You wanted to scoff openly at the nerves of her, but you held yourself back. You were not there to fight. She could do whatever she wants with Chris as Chris wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. Although you had to admit that seeing that made your blood boil. Her touch brought Chris back. He fidgeted in his seat to regain posture.

 Chris looked at you and addressed you for the first time that evening. “Y/N, I’m glad we could have this dinner. Thank you for coming out to meet with us.”

 Again, with the usage of the word “us”. You bit your lip to stop yourself from being too sensitive with these pronouns Chris was using to group himself with her like they were still an item. It was just a word and it didn’t mean anything, you had to tell yourself.

 “Yes, Y/N, thank you for coming out tonight. Chris and I are really thankful for the chance to clear the air with you.” Chris’ ex-girlfriend spoke. You might have applauded her for her effort to sound sincere, if not for the fact that her hand was now stroking Chris’ shoulder as she was speaking to you. If Chris had noticed how disrespectful this was, he said nothing.

 “Sure.” You forced a smile. You could hardly believe what you were seeing. Sam was appalled at the nerves of her and he reached out to you and gave your hand another tight squeeze.

 “We’ve already placed our order for food for the three of us, but we didn’t know you brought a guest, Y/N.” The ex said, looking at Sam. “You must be Y/N’s boyfriend?”

 You looked up at her and swore you could almost hear the satisfaction and hope in her voice. Was she hoping you were already attached so she could stop worrying about Chris getting you back? Were you too sensitive?

 “That’s all right, I can order my own food with no problem.” Sam replied curtly. He completely ignored her second comment, not willing to feed her satisfaction.

 “I ordered you your favourite, Y/N. Mid-rare steak with extra spinach.” Chris smiled at you.

“I’ll have two cod fish, and if it’s not too much trouble, could you cancel the order for mid-rare steak, please? Could you also help to ensure that there are no peanuts in the salad as she’s allergic. Thank you.” Sam said to the waiter, who had come in to take his order.

 “Hey, I ordered the mid-rare steak for Y/N. That’s her favourite! What are you doing?” Chris snapped at Sam.

 “I don’t think I owe you an explanation. But if you would like to know, if you were at all observant and concerned about Y/N, you would have known she was advised by doctors to reduce intake of red meat because of her sensitive gastric. Now that you are aware, do we still have a problem?” Sam addressed Chris calmly.

 Chris’ face was distorted in anger and distaste for Sam. He hated that Sam seemed to know you so well, and maybe even better than him. His fist was clenched around his glass again when he saw the smile you gave Sam. Chris’ fear of losing you to Sam was increasing and he hated that. He looked away from Sam, not saying a word, not trusting the words he would use.

 “Oh, you’re allergic to peanuts, Y/N?” The ex-girlfriend asked you, which you nodded awkwardly. You were uncomfortable with her sudden interest in you.

 “Can we get to the point of the dinner tonight, so that we can end this early?” Sam asked when Chris was silent.

 “Yes. First of all, Y/N, Chris and I, we want to explain things to you.” The ex-girlfriend spoke up. You were confused by her words. Chris and her? Wasn’t this dinner supposed to be about her explanation and apologies? When had this become an explanation from “Chris and her”?

 You said nothing and waited for her to continue.

 “It’s a fact that Chris and I kissed and we are sorry you saw that.” She continued, again, reaching out to touch Chris’ hand when she said the word “kiss”. This time, you saw Chris moved his hand away from her uncomfortably. “It was just a kiss, and it didn’t lead to anything else more. You don’t have to worry.” She continued.

 She stopped when the waiter came back in with the food. By the time the food was set in front of you, you had lost your appetite. If that was an apology from her about exactly what she did, you had failed to hear it. All she did was apologise for the fact you caught them in the act. And all the hand touching was leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

 “I feel bad that you and Chris had broken up over this. I mean, I thought the both of you were pretty tight.” She commented.

 You looked at Chris, waiting for him to say something. Anything at all for this evening to make sense. For this “explanation” or “apology” to make sense. For now, you felt as though you were part of a sick prank show.

 “We’re sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I can understand you feel hurt and it’s all my fault. I hate that you feel betrayed by me and I take full responsibility for that.” Chris said to you, his voice breaking. You had already heard Chris’ apologies umpteenth times but you had yet to get one sincere apology from his ex. Not that an apology from her would erase the hurt, but it would at least show that she was aware of the damage she had done. Being here at this “apology”, “clear the air” evening was proving to be a mistake.

 “Thank you for the apology, Chris. If that’s all the both you have to say, I think we are done with the dinner.” You waited a while for Chris and his ex-girlfriend to speak and when they didn’t, you stood up, Sam following suit. Neither of you had even touched your food. He took out a bunch of cash and placed it on the table to cover for dinner. Sam took your hand tightly in his hand and led you out of the restaurant. You heard Chris stand up behind you but he didn’t follow after you. You wondered if his ex-girlfriend had tried to hold him back.

 As Sam walked you home, he allowed you time to process the evening in silence. You always appreciated Sam’s gestures like this. When you were almost home, you finally spoke up. “What… happened there? Did you even hear any explanation or apology from her? Or was I just too out of it to hear it?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the evening. It was almost as if the dinner was her excuse to tell you she was nowhere near over Chris and she wanted Chris back.

 “All I can say is… and pardon my language, what a bitch!” Sam rolled her eyes and you burst out laughing. “So I am not the only one who thinks so?” You asked rhetorically, still laughing. You were feeling angry before, but Sam had helped you feel better, as he always did.

 “Let’s forget about tonight. Let’s go have something to eat, without a certain someone spoiling our appetite.” Sam said before leading you to one of both of your favourite hangs.

 “Sam, thank you. For being here with me tonight. I don’t know if I would have been able to do it by myself.” You told Sam when he walked you to your door.

 “I will always be here for you.” He smiled, leaning down to give you a kiss on your forehead. You felt something flutter inside your stomach and your face burning. As you closed the door behind you, you smiled to yourself. When you were finally settled in, you checked your phone and realized that Chris had left you numerous messages. You decided not to read them or respond until the next morning.

 After a night’s rest, it almost felt as if the dinner with Chris and his ex-girlfriend was a dream. That was until you received an unwanted visitor at your door.

 “Hey, Y/N, can I come in?” Chris’ ex-girlfriend stood at your doorstep. You cursed at her timing. Your roommate/best friend wasn’t home, and you knew Sam was out to run an errand so you couldn’t call him to come over. You were shocked to see her, but not wanting to be rude, you let her in.

 “Why are you here?” You asked, as you closed the door.

 “Well, you left dinner so abruptly last night. I thought I’ll drop by to check if you are okay.”

 “I’m fine, thanks.” You replied, without trying to sound too snappy.

 “That’s great then. Anyway, I made some cookies for you.” She said, fishing out a container of cookies from her bag.

 “Err, okay, thanks, but I am good.” You were slightly taken aback by her gift. Was it a peace offering?

 “Take it. I made it for you.” She insisted and pushed the cookies into your hands. “I’m not bragging but this cookie recipe is really good. Try it.”

 “Thanks, I’ll have it later.” You told her and set the container on your kitchen table.

 “No, please try it. At least let me know if they are nice, and I will get out of your hair, I promise.” She insisted again, harder this time.

 You wanted her to leave you alone so you took a cookie and took a bite. “Yeah, they’re great. Thanks.” You washed down the cookie with a glass of water. You didn’t even pause to taste the cookie. You practically swallowed the bite. “You should leave. Sam’s coming over in a while.” You lied.

 “All right then. I’ll go. Say hi to Sam for me.” You nodded and closed the door behind her. You were so weirded out by her sudden friendliness and visit. You took out your phone to call Sam to tell him all about it. Just as you hear Sam’s voice on the other end, you felt a strange tingling sensation around your mouth and throat. “Hey, Sam…” you pushed out the words from your throat painfully. Within seconds, you felt your throat tightening and your tongue felt as if it was bitten by a bee and swelling to twice its size. Your breathing became more laboured and difficult. You looked down and noticed hives all over your body.

 You hadn’t had an allergic reaction since you were a kid but you recognized the symptoms immediately. “Help… Sam.” You managed to call out before you fell onto the ground trying to breathe. You heard Sam calling out your name repeatedly through the phone but you couldn’t respond. You tried to crawl towards your bedroom to retrieve the epi-pen. You don’t remember how far you managed to crawl before you heard Sam’s voice again, this time a lot louder.

 You opened your eyes and saw Sam hovering over you. Worry written all over his face. “Y/N, are you okay?” You managed a weak nod. “Peanut… allergy…”

 “I know. I’ve called 911 and they are on their way. I’ve just administered your epi-pen. You’re going to be okay. I’m here.” You smiled weakly before exhaustion took over you and you passed out.

 The next time you opened your eyes, you were in an unfamiliar environment. “Hey, you’re awake. How do you feel?” Sam asked, as he poured you a glass of water.

 “Like death.” You groaned. You looked around and quickly registered that you were in the hospital.

 “What happened? Who gave you those cookies?”

 “Cookies?” You asked, trying to remember what happened.

 “In your kitchen. I saw it right as the paramedics were tending to you. It didn’t look store bought so I brought it along for testing. They tested peanut contents in it.”

 “Argh. Chris’ ex-girlfriend. She gave them to me and forced me to eat it. Said she made the cookies herself for me.”

 “That bitch!” Sam exploded. This was the first time you had ever seen Sam angry. “She knew you were allergic to peanuts and she gave you the cookies on purpose! I’m not letting her get away with this. If I hadn’t already reached our apartment building when you called, I don’t know what’s going to happened.”

 You rubbed your head, not believing that Chris’ ex-girlfriend had just tried to kill you on purpose. It was almost inconceivable.

 Before you could respond, you saw Chris approaching your ward, his expression grave with worry.

 “Y/N, oh my god, are you okay?” Chris burst through the doors and headed straight for you.

 “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam pulled Chris back from you angrily.

 “Get off me. The hospital called.” Chris tried to fight Sam off to get to you. You forgot that Chris was still listed as your emergency contact.

 “You don’t deserve to be here. Y/N is lying here because of you. Meeting you and your ex was a mistake. You do what you want with your ex, but leave Y/N the hell alone. You brought your ex back into Y/N’s life and now she’s tried to kill her.” Sam roared as loudly as the hospital would allow.

 Chris looked confused. “Tried to kill her?” He’s stopped fighting Sam by now.

 “She knew Y/N was allergic to peanuts. She asked about it over dinner. And the next morning she comes knocking with cookies she made containing peanuts and made Y/N eat it. What do you call this behaviour?”

 “No… no way.” Chris said in disbelief. “She... wouldn’t do that.”  

 “The hell she wouldn’t. She’s not going to get away with this. Y/N almost died because of her, Chris! Do you even understand what’s happening?” Sam was exasperated.

 “Chris. I think you should leave.” You told Chris. While it wasn’t all Chris’ fault and he had no control over his ex’s action, you were tired of dealing with him. Your heart was hardened and cold.

 “No, please. I want to stay. I want to talk about this.” Chris pleaded. His eyes had welled up in tears. “Please, Y/N.”

 You closed your eyes and swallowed the wave of tears that were threatening to crash through your eyes. “Fine.” You wanted to get this over with. You knew this was a conversation you’d have to have with Chris one day if not today. You just wanted this circus to end. Sam looked at you, concerned, worried. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

 You nodded at Sam. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

 Chris dashed toward you as soon as Sam left the ward and reached out for your hand. You moved away, not allowing Chris to touch you. You were not ready.

 “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I really am. I had no idea she was capable of doing this.” Chris cried.

 You were so sick of hearing Chris apologise over and over again by now. “Stop, Chris. I don’t want to hear any apologies from you, anymore. Aren’t you tired? I’m so tired of hearing the same old apologies over and over. I don’t need your apologies. I don’t need your explanations. I don’t need anything from you. After what happened last night and this morning, I just want you and her to leave me alone. Please. I am tired.” You looked at Chris dead in the eyes as you said those words. You knew you were probably harsh on Chris, but you couldn’t hold it in.

 “I don’t know what else to say, except that I really am sorry that I brought her back into our lives. I had failed as your protector, your boyfriend.” Chris sobbed.

 “Chris. She… she needs help. And I think the only and the best person who can help her is you. I’m going to give her the benefit of doubt about the peanut cookies, and I won’t press charges. But I am sure she did what she did because she isn’t stable. Despite what she did, I shall choose to believe she is a good person who is in a bad place currently. Help her walk through this.” You were surprised, even by yourself that all the anger you had felt about Chris’ ex-girlfriend a minute ago was gone just like that.

 “I love you, Y/N. I don’t want to be with her to help her. You’re who I want to be with.” Chris implored.

 “Chris, maybe over the last three weeks that you were back in my life again, I did think there was a chance that we could be together again. But it is hard to think so anymore. I still love you, Chris. But I don’t think I can be in love with you. I admit that I had missed you so badly. I loved spending time with you over the last three weeks and I even toyed with the idea of us being back together. But I’m so tired.” You bit your tongue so hard to stop yourself from crying that you almost drew blood. “Call me selfish for pushing you away, but I think she needs you more than I need you. Help her get better, okay?” A tear escaped from the side of your eyes. The finality of the words was hitting you. You had made your decisions that you could never get back together with Chris. The pain of what happened, the sabotage from his ex-girlfriend, the whole circus show with her touching Chris at dinner… You just knew you couldn’t.

 “Y/N, no, please. Don’t push me away. I don’t want to lose you.” Chris whimpered.

 You reached out and gave Chris a hug. “I love you, Chris. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart and I know I do too in yours. This is where our relationship ends but I’ll never forget you, okay?” You felt Chris falter in your arms. “I love you, Y/N.” Chris whispered between sobbing. You hated breaking his heart but in the long run this might be kinder to him and yourself. You had no idea how long you stayed in embrace with Chris until a nurse came in and requested for Chris to leave the room so she could check on you. You looked away, refusing to watch Chris’ back as he walked out of the hospital ward. You hoped you made the right choice closing this door on Chris.

 When the nurse stepped out, Sam back came in. When you saw Sam, you immediately felt a wave of calm and security over the uncertainties. You knew you were going to be all right, with Sam there with you.

[fatuismooches]

Honestly- fragile reader hits close to home for me. I don’t often disclose details about my personal life, but I see too many similarities with how the reader is depicted with their illness. I have chronic issues with my body, which prominently include shaky hands and fatigue. Being shaky is aggravating for me. It makes me unsure of my movements and constantly makes me untrustful of my body, especially with my hands. So when I read back on some of your fics that include reader dealing with their symptoms it genuinely feels nice to read. I can’t help but imagine reader also having issues with trusting their body to work and feeling frustrated that they can’t get up from bed due to fatigue. Is that projecting? Yes, but I seriously cannot help it. fragile reader is comforting in a way I can sympathize with and understand, which is so cool 4 me.

I remember one of your fics involving fragile reader breaking a glass once. Thinking about it now, I remember all the times I had to be careful pouring a drink because of how shaky I was. Luckily, I never broke a glass. There were close calls though... We need more fragile reader appreciation!! 

Anywho I hope you're doing well, smooches! I love your latest fic, it is super sweet. also reading in the summer heat is not for the weak LOL

❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for sharing this with me Tom, it must have taken a lot of courage!! I cannot imagine how truly frustrating and tiring that must be for you and I am sorry, but I am really happy I am able to help you in some way with fragile reader writing, and i sincerely appreciate your appreciation for it! :) And yes Reader would totally feel that way. But Dottore and the segments (or the harbingers in general) would be patient and understanding toward you, take care of you and do whatever they need to make your life even a bit easier. Although they can't really take the feelings away, they would always be by your side when you need it. (And don't worry about projecting, that's welcomed here!)

I'm super happy you liked the fic!! I am also doing well, minus the fact i hate summer- i totally understand, the main reason the fic took so long to write was bc my motivation was sapped by this heat... 💀 i hope to begin working on a Dottore x fragile reader series + another fluff fic (need to write before school opens again 😔) but we'll see what the weather has to say about that... anyway, stay safe and HYRDATED out there. I hope you are doing well too!

[foster-the-moths]

The Disappearance of Mark Heathcliff (Led Astray AU)

Mark is ten years old when he begins to wish he could disappear forever. God does not answer his prayers, but something else does.

Warnings: self-loathing, self-harm, vaguely suicidal thoughts, family issues, religious guilt, mentioned & attempted kidnapping, body horror, and gore.

(Can't believe I have to say this but don't reblog or like this if you are a 'proshipper' or break tmc creators' boundaries.)

6,464 Words. Ao3 Link.

Mark is nervous.

His parents have reassured him time and time again, but he’s still apprehensive about going to this new school at the start of fifth grade. His parents had bought a new house, and rather than delay moving until he finished elementary school, they decided it would be best to have him start fifth grade at a new school. They said this way he could make some friends in the area before going into middle school, but Mark hadn’t really liked the idea. He’d wanted to stay and graduate with the friends he already had, especially since he lived so far away from them now and would likely never see them again. He hadn’t even wanted to move in the first place, but he supposed he trusted his parents — and it’s not like he ever had a say in the matter anyways. 

He sighs, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he waits for his father to unlock the car. He just hopes he makes some new friends quickly, this summer was lonely without anyone to talk to. He’s sure it’ll be fine, though, he had made plenty of friends at his old school, he’s sure he can make new ones here, too.

—

The other kids hate him.

Well, maybe they don’t hate him — hate is a strong word, afterall — but they certainly don’t like him, either. When he tries to talk to them, the conversation dies out, replaced with darting eyes and uncomfortable whispering. When he tries to play games with them, they stop and switch to another game they know he doesn’t like. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, he’s thought over every single thing he could have possibly done for them to dislike him, but he can’t pin down a reason why. Did he talk too loud? Speak too fast? Maybe he was just too much for them, he knows he gets a bit enthusiastic sometimes, but why didn’t they like him now that he was quieter? 

He even stopped trying to talk to them for a bit, “giving them space,” as he’s heard before. He’s stopped trying to talk or play, and instead buries himself into a book during recess, but this only seems to make his classmates dislike him more. Everything he does to try and fit in just makes him stand out more, and he’s starting to lose hope he’ll ever make friends here. He’s even starting to believe they might truly hate him, because why else would they shun him every time he tries to be friends with them? He doesn’t understand, all he knows is that this is not the “fresh start” he was promised. He misses his old friends — his real friends, more and more each day.

—

He can’t find it.

He’s lost his math workbook, again, and he has an assignment in it due tomorrow, and he can’t find it anywhere. He rakes his hands through his short hair, and tries to take a deep breath, but still feels tears pricking at his eyes. His teacher had said if he kept failing to bring in his homework then it was going to become an issue, and Mark didn’t want that, couldn’t bear the thought of it. He’s always been a good kid, a good student, so why was everything falling apart now? This had never been a problem at his old school, he never got in trouble there, but there were new rules he didn’t understand — and not just with his peers. They were less patient with him, more demanding, and his parents said the pressure would only increase in later grades. He felt like he was drowning, sometimes, just barely able to make it through each day before something new was thrown at him. 

He rifles through his backpack, binder, folders, and room for the fourth time tonight, his search still fruitless. He clasps his hands together, and once more he prays, prays that God would let him find it — it wasn’t really a huge request, so why wasn’t he getting an answer? Doubt trickles into his stomach, and it makes him feel sick. He shouldn’t be feeling this, shouldn’t be doubting God like this, but he couldn’t make it go away no matter what he does. This wasn’t good, Mark Heathcliff was supposed to be good, but he feels like he’s been doing a very bad job of that lately.

He grasps his hands together even tighter, fingers pressing into the space between bones so much it begins to ache a bit. Could God not hear him? He chews the inside of his cheek. This week they had taught about sacrifice in his religion class — about how God told Abraham to kill his only son, Isaac. About how Jesus suffered, how much pain He went through. Maybe that’s what Mark was missing, maybe he needed to show God that he was serious about how much He meant to him.

He swallows a lump in his throat, and brings his hands to his mouth. He bites down on the back of his hand, around the knuckle of his pointer finger, and it hurts. He cringes, stopping immediately. He hadn’t expected it to hurt that much, the area he had bitten down on burns faintly as the pain fades. There are condemning marks left on his hand from where teeth dug in, and he rubs the skin harshly, trying to make them fade quicker. Maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. He gingerly threads his hands together once more, and sends another prayer to God, hoping that this act would prove his devotion.

He repeats his cycle of rummaging through every place his workbook could be and praying, now with the addition of biting his hands, with more and more fervor each time. He grows frustrated, no, angry — why wouldn’t God listen to him? Why wouldn’t his parents and teachers listen? Why did nobody ever just listen to him? He finally gives up, tears in his eyes and hands aching as he gets ready for bed. 

A few days later, his religion teacher reads aloud a passage from 1 Corinthians, about how the body is a temple, and must be taken care of. She reads another about the prophet Elijah defeating the false prophets of Baal, how they cut themselves with swords and spilled their own blood but their god did not answer. His teacher tells them that God didn’t listen to people that hurt themselves, and Mark feels sick. No wonder God hadn’t answered him, he was selfish. Shame roils in his gut for the rest of the day, but he can’t stop thinking about the feeling of teeth sinking into the flesh of his hands.

—

He can’t do this.

It’s been hours of staring at pieces of paper with words that swim in his head, trying to find ways to answer them but he can’t. He doesn’t know why, he’s trying so hard, and he knows the answers to these questions, but he just can’t. None of his sentences make sense, so he erases them and starts over, but he forgets what he was going to write, so he rereads his textbook, but he’s already read it, and he can’t read it again without losing focus, so the words swim off the page and he can’t make sense of it anymore, and by the time he figures out how to word what he wants to say, it’s hours later and he’s exhausted, and he knows it shouldn’t be like this; he knows something is wrong.

But when he tries to tell his parents, he never knows how to explain it, and they just tell him to keep trying because “it’s not that hard,” but it is. He knows he’ll never get them to understand, though, so he tries again anyway, hoping that maybe they’re right, and this time he’ll be able to do it right. He never manages it, no matter what he does differently. Now it’s 10:15 pm, he still has three whole assignments left, and they are all due tomorrow. He’s tired, his head keeps falling to the table and startling him awake, and he knows there’s no way he’s going to finish them all tonight. But his parents won’t let him give up. 

They’ve gone to bed now, leaving him alone in the dining room, but he knows if he goes to bed now they won’t take any of the excuses he gives them in the morning. They will call him lazy, and a liar, and all the things that hurt him because it’s not true, but they don’t seem to care. They don’t care how much it hurts him, they don’t care if what he says is true, they don’t believe him. Anger burns in his throat, hotter than the shame he wears on his shoulders, filling the hollow pit in his stomach with a raging ocean. It isn’t fair. None of this is fair, he’s trying his best, and his parents always say that as long as he’s trying his best nothing else matters. But his best isn’t good enough for them anymore, and he hates it, hates himself, hates them. Maybe he doesn’t wish he could disappear, maybe he wishes they would disappear instead. 

He wishes his parents would die.

He’s still, for a moment, so startled by the thought taking root in his mind that he loses awareness of everything else. In the blink of an eye, the shock gives way to a searing, all-encompassing guilt. How could he even ever think that towards another human being, let alone his own parents? He gasps for air, not realizing he had stopped breathing, and curls into himself tightly; drawing his feet up onto the chair and tucking his knees underneath his chin. Tears slip down his cheeks, and he can’t seem to catch his breath as he stifles his sobs so his parents won’t hear him. His fingernails leave indents on his knees from where he digs them into his skin, and he half-wishes he would bleed. 

Mark is a terrible person. A terrible son. How could he wish for his parents to die?

He rips the sinful thought from his mind like uprooting a weed from a garden, and frantically replaces it with a haphazard, almost frenzied prayer.

He’s sorry, he loves his parents, he should be so grateful for everything they give him, he doesn’t deserve it, but they love him anyways, he didn’t mean it, he’s sorry, it wouldn’t happen again, he would never let himself think like that ever again, he would do anything, he’s sorry, he loves his parents, he would be lost without them, he would be lost without God, he’s sorry, he would do better, he just needs to try harder, just like his parents said, he just has to listen to them, he’s sorry, he deserves something horrible to happen to him, he’s been so ungrateful, he’s been so selfish, but he hopes God will forgive him anyways, even though he doesn’t deserve to ever be forgiven, because God loves him, and God would understand, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry it hurts.

He knows, now, that hurting himself will not make God listen, but he cannot help biting into his palms and wrists. He is disgusted with himself, and he wants to never think those sorts of things ever again, so he will use the pain to remind himself not to. He digs his teeth into his skin, closing them tighter, and tighter, until he cannot bear the sting of pain anymore, and releases it with a choked whimper. As soon as the pain fades, he bites down again, somewhere new, and repeats his self-flagellation. 

After what seems like an eternity, he calms down enough to breathe without his breath hitching, or new tears to shed, and he goes still. He looks down, eyes vacant, and sees his hands are littered with angry red indents left by his own teeth. He sniffles, and drags his gaze up to the clock, seeing it is now 12:08 am. Three hours past his bedtime. He feels hollow, drained of everything from the effort of feeling so many emotions at once, and he decides this simply isn’t worth it. He slides his chair back and stands up, flicking the lightswitch off and beelining it for his bedroom, barely able to keep his eyes open enough to see where he is going. He doesn’t bother to brush his teeth, or change his clothes, or do any of the things he usually does before bed. He just crawls onto his mattress, hides under the covers, and tries desperately to forget the past hour and just fall asleep, to have just a moment of peace before the disappointment and anger he will face tomorrow morning. 

He does not succeed, and gets little sleep anyways.

—

His parents are fighting again, and as it usually is these days, their argument is centered around him.

He’s been lying recently. At first it was just a panicked fumble, a hasty, “Yes, I finished my homework,” or, “I forgot it at home, but I can bring it in tomorrow,” nothing more than a rushed excuse in hopes it would distract whichever adult he was talking to long enough for them to forget it. He hadn’t even realized it was a lie at first, because he was planning on finishing his homework and handing it in! He just… needed more time, and didn’t want to admit he wasn’t done with it yet. 

It wasn’t until later that the realization he had actually lied dawned on him, dread flooding his veins with ice as he sat at the dining room table, fist clenched around a pencil, pressing lead into the paper so hard the point had broken off. His head felt scrambled by the barrage of thoughts that accompanied the revelation, running rampant through his head as he tried despairingly to think up a penance for his transgression, and a solution to his newfound problem. The mere thought of admitting it to his parents had made him flinch, his own scorching fear rendering that option impossible. So he had decided to hide it — if nobody found out he had lied, then it wasn’t hurting anyone, was it? 

In the end, he had managed to finish the assignment and turn it in the next day, just as promised. No harm, no foul. It was almost vindicating it a way: he had proved he wasn’t a liar, not really. He knew he just needed more time, but the adults wouldn’t let him have it, so he took it himself. Was there really anything wrong with that? Was it lying if he delivered on his promise in the end? No, Mark decided, he was learning that adults weren’t always right about things, and when they were wrong he would take matters into his own hands. That’s what he told himself that night, shoulders hunched and wide eyes staring into the dark when he was supposed to be asleep. Liars are sinners, but he was no liar. 

But the time he had spent working on that one assignment had cut into the time he had to work on the others, and after just a few days he found himself in the same position. He knew the solution, he knew he could lie, but this time he knew he was lying, and it made his skin crawl with a prickle of shame. 

This repeated, until he had lied more times than he could count now, and he was finally caught. He had told his teacher he had, in fact, turned in his assignment, she must have just lost it. He had planned to turn it in the next day, to slip it into the assignments bin while nobody was looking. He had not expected his teacher to spend hours looking for it, only for her search to be futile. He had not expected her to hold him back after class, eyes narrowed into a glare of suspicion . 

He had broken easily, immediately confessing with eyes fixed on his shoes, voice barely audible as he admitted he had lied to her. She was furious, hours wasted for him, she had said, and he had never felt so ashamed in himself, queasiness coiling in his gut as she chewed him out. He couldn’t even remember most of it, he felt sick to his stomach even recalling a moment of it. He had never considered that this might happen, that his lie could ever affect someone other than himself, and remorse poisoned every fiber of his body with blistering anguish. He had felt like the floor had vanished from beneath his feet when she had informed him she was telling his parents. Despite his despondent pleading, endless tears, and choked apologies, she had refused to change her mind, and dismissed him to go to his next class. 

The rest of the day seemed to drag on infinitely, leaving Mark hollow besides a horrible buzz of shame and dread. He had almost considered hiding from his father when he came to pick him up, but decided that was much more trouble than it would ever be worth. From the moment he got home, he delayed the inevitable. He had half-hoped that maybe if he said nothing, and prayed hard enough, that his teacher would miraculously forget to call his parents, and they would never know. But she had not forgotten, and he was called later that night to the kitchen by his mother with a tight, almost pained expression, and his father with crossed arms and furrowed brows.

His parents had not been happy.

He curled up on his side even tighter as he heard the word liar be whisper-shouted by his father. They thought he was asleep, that he couldn’t hear them, but he could hear almost every word through the cracks in his bedroom door. His pillow was drenched with tears and snot, and he felt utterly pathetic. He prays for his parents to stop, for him to be able to fall asleep, for him to sink into his mattress and never wake up. 

Then again, why would God answer the prayers of a sinner? His parents had been right: he was a liar, and God does not love liars.

—

There is a boogeyman in Mandela County.

That’s what the newspeople call him, at least. He steals children, they say, whisking them away into the night never to be seen again — and nobody knows how he does it, who he is, or if it’s even a human being at all. There have been all sorts of rumors from the kids at school: aliens, demons, even an evil laboratory kidnapping children for their experiments. Mark isn’t really sure what he thinks of it all — he’s far too old to believe in monsters under the bed, and he’s more of a skeptic to things that stray from his faith. Whatever the case, the adults don’t seem to know what it is either, keeping a closer eye on the younger kids, and sending out broadcasts that make Mark feel sick with worry.

They say it’s taking children as young as newborns to as old as six. Sarah is five, and their parents have talked in hushed whispers about moving again, for her safety. He sits with her now, using a binder as a surface to write on so he can keep an eye on her while he does his homework, just like his parents told him to. She plays with her dolls on the carpet in front of the television, chattering to them as she weaves a story only she can comprehend. As Mark watches her, he almost feels… jealous. She’s been the favorite since she was born, and it’s not that he wants her to disappear, no, he loves her far too much for that, it’s just that… 

Mark is too old to be taken by the boogeyman. He’s ten years old, far beyond the target age-range. Yet every night he almost wishes it would take him anyways; away from school, away from his parents, and bring him somewhere he didn’t have to worry about anything. He doesn’t know what happens to the kids that are taken, nobody does, but at this point he doesn’t really care. If something terrible happens, then maybe he would deserve it. It isn’t fair, that it could take Sarah instead of Mark. Sarah doesn’t deserve to be taken, she’s never done anything wrong, but Mark deserves to disappear, he wants to disappear. He’s pretty sure his parents wouldn’t even miss a liar anyways, and they would still have Sarah, so really it would be the best for everyone, wouldn’t it? Mark would get to disappear, and nobody else would be upset by him ever again.  

He watches over her, and he feels an envy for something he knows he shouldn’t want.

—

There is someone in the house.

Mark holds his breath as he hides under the dining room table, squeezing his knees to his chest so tightly his body aches. He had been staying up late again, working on homework he would never finish, when the television turned on by itself, and a far-too-large hand pushed itself through the screen. There was no time for him to do anything else but kill the lights, throw himself under the table, and pray. 

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t dare to take a breath. He can’t risk making a single noise, not when a living shadow lumbers through his home, head nearly scraping on the ceiling as it trudges past his hiding spot, achingly slow, each step it takes feeling like it shakes the very foundations of the house. He cannot breathe, so instead he prays, pleads that whatever it is does not find him. He has no idea what the intruder even looks like, he hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but what little he did see is enough to set his pulse hammering against his ribs. His heartbeat is so violently loud that he’s already half convinced it will hear him anyways, and spindly arms will reach down to rip him out of his shelter and tear him to shreds. 

Achingly slow, it claws its way past him, and Mark squeezes his eyes shut, too terrified to look at what might be his doom. His head is filled with images of monsters, demons, and a faceless Boogeyman that haunts his town like a phantom. He hears more shuffling, more thuds, each one makes him curl into himself even more, but they slowly sound further and further away. He just barely opens his eyes, and he nearly sobs in complete and utter relief. It has gone past him, shambling out of the dining room, and into the hallway. It had not noticed him. He finally allows himself a breath when he is sure it is out of earshot, stifling the sound with his hands. Joy floods his veins, he is alive. That relief crashes like a vase to the floor when he hears the click of a doorknob turning, and the accompanying creak of a door being opened. 

It had gone to the hallway, he realizes. The hallway that leads to Sarah’s room.

He unfurls from his hiding spot stiffly, urgency thawing out the sheer panic that had kept him frozen. Whatever that thing is, he was not going to allow it to hurt her. What if it really was the Boogeyman, and it took Sarah away? He couldn’t let that happen, wouldn’t let that happen. 

He creeps down the hallway, pulse pounding in his chest as he slides his sock-covered feet along the wooded floors. His legs are shaking, and he feels like he might fall to the floor at any moment, but he keeps going. He briefly looks to his parents’ room, considering waking them up, but if it’s already opened Sarah’s door, then by the time he wakes them she might be gone. He has to face it alone. He steels himself, placing a hand upon the doorframe of Sarah’s room as he looks inside, and has to choke back a scream at the sight of something far too tall to be human hunched over Sarah’s bed, reaching something that must be a hand towards her. He almost backs away, frightened out of his mind just by seeing something so obviously inhuman, but instead he steps into the room, and opens his mouth to speak.

“What are you doing?” he croaks, his voice strangled by fear.

It turns to face him, and what small amount of bravery Mark had mustered up is gone in an instant, replaced by a soul-devouring terror. Although it is dark, there is enough light seeping in through the window for him to make out the features of the monster clearly. It has no lips, just a gaping mouth carved into an uncanny smile, filled with far too many teeth. Its lower jaw is split into two, weaving together and undulating in a way that almost resembles an insect’s mandibles. Its face is smooth, catching light in a way that makes it look as if it has molded clay in place of skin, sculpted around a blank eye on one side of its face. The other eye is set within a void, a glowing pupil flickering to focus in on his face.

It cocks its head to the side, considering his question, before it speaks, “I am taking her away.”

He can’t breathe, he feels as though his ribcage has collapsed in on itself, and he’s forgotten how to even inhale. Its voice digs claws into his head, static erupting in a horrid cacophony of incomprehensible noise, and he would raise his hands to clamp over his ears if he wasn’t petrified, if his arms weren’t so weak. His gaze is locked on it, but he remembers the reason he ever entered the room in the first place, and his eyes flit over to her. Sarah is asleep still, clutching a stuffed animal as she slumbers peacefully, blissfully unaware of the danger looming above her. It strengthens his resolve, and he remembers how to breathe, wheezing in a weak breath, as he looks the monster in the eye once more.

“L-le-ave,” he demands, voice cracking, “Le-ave her alone. T-take someone el-se.”

Its pupil flickers, and it blinks its vacant eye, perplexed by his request. “Who else would I take?” it inquires.

Mark can feel its gaze burning a hole through him as it awaits his response, and he scrambles for something to say. He has a feeling if he does not answer its question correctly, something terrible will happen, and it will take Sarah anyways. This vague fear sends his mind racing, half-formed thoughts clambering around the inside of his head, as though his brain is overturning each of his memories for something, anything to save his little sister. He remembers many, many things at once, but the recollections he latches onto the most are those of guilt. Of shameful lies, clenched teeth, crushing despair, and unanswered prayers. He remembers coveting a fate he shouldn’t want and couldn’t have. He remembers a wish he made as his little sister puppeteered toys in front of the very television the demon before him had emerged from. He knows his answer. He hopes it is one the monster will accept.

“Me,” Mark breathes, “T-ake me inste-ad.”

The Boogeyman, for that’s what it must be, drags itself towards him — hands that are gnarled and twisted like the roots of a tree pulling its sunken body forwards. He notices its chest is see-through, and he can see what look like ribs, but on closer inspection appear to be segmented insect legs. He gawks at them as they twitch and writhe, before snapping his attention back to its face. He forces himself to stay still as it lowers its head, arms creaking as it bends itself down until its eyes are level with his own.

“Why?” it implores, voice still buzzing with static, but no longer unbearable. 

“Be-because I-,” Mark swallows, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to-to be here anymore. I-,” his voice warbles, and his breath hitches, but he continues. “I w-want to dis-appear, I’m a-a bad person, and I d-don’t want to stay here,” he gasps, fully crying now. “I d-on’t deserve to sta-y here, I d-on’t w-ant to stay here, please,” he wails, voice muffled as he buries his face into his hands. His chest heaves as he trembles, barely holding himself together enough to stay upright. He had never admitted his wish to anyone else before, and it felt like the dam he had built around it had finally burst, forcing him to feel the full brunt of the emotions he had locked away for so long. 

He feels something drape itself across his shoulders and back, and can’t even find it in himself to recoil. He leans into the touch, letting it guide him through the doorway, and out into the hall. The weight on his back distorts, shrinking until it feels more like a real, human hand, now resting on just one shoulder. He looks to the monster, and sees it has condensed itself into the form of a man, no longer craning down to fit under the ceiling. He crashes forwards, burying his face into its side and wrapping shaking arms around it. He doesn’t care anymore, if it’s going to take him then he’s going to be selfish, and take as much comfort from it as he can get. It pauses, evidently not expecting Mark to cling to it. He feels a trickle of dread, had he made a mistake? He expects to be shoved away, for it to change its mind, but instead he feels an arm wrap itself around his shoulders, resting upon his back tentatively. He sniffles, and leans further into it.

They stay like that for a moment, before the monster starts to walk, and Mark forces his legs to move along with it, stumbling to keep in step with the other. It does not rush him, simply waiting for him to match its movements, almost like it wants him to copy it. It leads him out of the hallway, and he follows it blindly, not bothering to check where it is taking him. He doesn’t care, as long as it’s away, far away. 

After a short while it stops, and stays still — but they had not walked for nearly as long as Mark had expected, he’s pretty sure they hadn’t even left the house. Mark forces his head up, blinking tears out of his eyes to look at their surroundings. It has brought him to the living room, right in front of the television. It makes sense, that it would take him away through the same thing it had come from. He supposes this is it, then. Something crosses his mind, and he balks, suddenly, tugging on its arm.

“Where… where are you going to take me? What will… happen to me?” His voice is small, he is already resigned to his fate, but he wants to know what his doom will be before he commits to it. 

It tilts its head, gaze boring into him. “I am going to make you like me. And then we will go to the others,” it states.

The words catch Mark off guard. He isn’t sure what he had been expecting it to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “So… I’m not going to die?” he asks haltingly, almost apprehensive. He isn’t even sure which answer he wants to hear.

“No,” it vows, “you will not die, but you will be different.”

Mark can’t help but feel a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He doesn’t know exactly what it means by ‘different’ but he doesn’t care enough to question it. He can guess well enough what it means anyways, with the way that it had looked before he agreed to go with it. He shivers as he imagines his jaw breaking in two, and his eyes becoming blank and lifeless. He shoves the images out of his head, and reaches out to grasp one of its hands to ground himself. He can’t let himself second guess his decision now — he has a feeling it would not react kindly to that. Besides, he was doing this for Sarah, whatever was going to happen to him didn’t matter.

The thought makes him realize that he should probably make sure the monster understands what he wants from it in return. “...What about Sarah? You… aren’t going to take her, are you? Just me?” he rasps, barely able to even make his voice audible.

“No. Just you,” it affirms, “unless you want me to take her as well?”

“No! No, I don’t- I don’t want that,” he yelps. “Just me, not her.”

“Then I won’t,” it assures, turning its face towards the television. Before it can so much as step towards it, Mark stops it once more.

“Will it hurt?” he whispers, the question itself feeling like a condemnation.

It freezes, stiffening like a statue as it considers the question. “I don’t know,” it admits.

Mark looks down, staring at the floor as he considers asking more questions, before deciding he doesn’t want to know more. Instead, he grits his teeth and squeezes its hand, trying not to show how much its answer scares him. It seems to take this as a sign that he is ready to go with it. It squeezes his hand back, then pulls away, prying its hand from Mark’s as it steps forward. Mark takes his hand back, but watches with curiosity as something occurs to him. How did it even fit in the television? Even in its more ‘human’ form, it towered over him, surely it couldn’t just cram itself through, right? He supposes he’ll just have to wait and see. 

It straightens itself out, and then its body lets out a series of cracks as it begins to jolt and shake, and it buckles forwards. Mark suppresses a shout at the sudden noise and movement, then stares, transfixed, as its body breaks apart even further. 

Mark can see its bones bend, twist, and snap under the thin cloth covering its form — its very skeleton seeming to fold in on itself as though being pulled apart by invisible hands. It hardly even has a shape that could be considered close to human as it drops to the floor and crawls towards the screen, its form distorted and broken beyond recognition. It’s the most horrific thing Mark has ever seen, and although he hastily darts his hands up to cover his eyes, the afterimages of it flash in his mind’s eye. It is as mesmerizing as it is repulsive, like watching the inner workings of some ghastly machine. Mark cringes at each sharp crack and wet tear of muscle, until finally it goes quiet. 

He peeks out from behind parted fingers, only to be met with an empty room, the television still blaring white noise. He blinks, bringing his hands back down as he slowly inspects the room for any sign of the creature, yet finds nothing.

Had it… left him? 

Just as he feels his heart sink to the floor, the television’s static changes pitch, and something emerges from it. Mark feels a sense of deja-vu as he watches a hand claw itself out of the screen, but unlike before, it is turned upwards. Its palm is open, inviting him to take hold of it once more. An offer, waiting to be fulfilled.

He hesitates — how could he not? He knows, deep in his bones, that whatever was beyond the screen would change him; that the static would devour him wholly and his life would never be the same. If he would even have a life at all, the monster could very well be lying to him. He considers, briefly, going back on his promise. He imagines running down the hall, bursting into his parents’ room and waking them up, taking solace in the inherent safety adults provided. But this is what he had wanted, wasn’t it? If he went to them, things would just go back to the way they were before, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

He reaches out, and grasps its hand tightly, his palm tingling from where it touches the skin of the monster. It reminds him of static electricity. It tugs his hand through the screen ever so gently, and his hand is swallowed by prickling white noise.

Static ripples up and down his arm, electricity coiling in his tendons and nerves as it boils in his veins. It does not hurt, but it surges under his skin, overwhelming as it floods his nerves with noise and colors and all sorts of things that should not be held within human flesh. He can hear an endless cacophony of radio channels and transmissions, the signals reverberating with his skull and skittering into nothingness. His teeth ache as they buzz in their sockets, and he feels the need to clench them tightly, lest they rattle themselves out of his jaw. 

He can no longer feel his own hand, as if his flesh and bones have unraveled into radio waves and beams of light, no longer bound to such a simple, human shape. Despite this, he can still feel the monster holding it, as if it is grasping the concept of his hand, rather than a physical object. He thinks it might be the only thing stopping him from falling apart into nothingness. It is reassuring, a beacon of stability amongst the overwhelming chaos he has plunged himself into, and he tries to hone his attention to it and it alone. 

The sensation is unbearable, just barely bordering on a painless agony, but he surges forwards anyways. He shoves his head through the screen, and falls. Down through the screen, far away from his home and humanity, he falls, but there is something there to catch him. He has no body, no mind, he is nothing more than a tangled, writhing mass of channels and currents and light, but he does not fall apart. He is cosmic dust, held together only by the gravity of a star as he is remade anew, into something whole again. He opens his eyes, that are not quite eyes, and an angel stares back at him. 

Mark Heathcliff disappears — leaving no trace other than unfinished homework on the dining room table, his little sister’s door left ajar, and a television pouring out an incessant hiss of static.

[mysticarts]

charater dumping (PT 1)

Soo.....it's summer for me now (YIPPE!)

Imma share some old and now updated charaters of mine that I'm going to use in a new rp with my rp group!

Note: before I can show you the characters, I'll need to explain the plot their in.

This takes place in the MHA (my hero academia) universe. However, being a hero is not the center on the story. In fact, besides pro heros, I'm pretty sure that's all these charaters have related with the setting

Continuing on, during this time, Japan was separated into two: the poor and the rich. They hated each other's guts.

Until one day, the rich open up a fight club, and gather the most powerful pro heros from the poor and rich side and make them fight to the death. If the rich side wins, the rich will publicly execute some of the poor people. If the poor people win, then they live for another day!

Okay, yall understand the basics of it. (If u guys have any questions about the plot feel free to ask.

Anyway, introducing the characters that will be featured in my future rp I'm doing!

MIZUKI YAMADA

Mizuki is on the rich people side, as she is part of a rich family.

Absolute adrenaline junkie. She's not actually supposed to go down to the fight club, but since she can't participate in it, she likes to watch

Mizuki's Quirk, Burst of Rage (B.O.R for short) uses her blood, Mizuki has blood colored fingertips because of her Quirk

Amoung the rich side of Japan, people label Mizuki as rather too boyish for a lady. As Mizuki is loud, outspoken, and brutally honest, she's herself, and she will not apologize for it.

Mizuki does have a twin sister! However, Mizuki has more darker eyes and has streaks in her hair unlike her sister.

HANAKO YAMADA

This here is Hanako, Mizuki's twin!

Again, like Mizuki, Hanako is on the rich side of Japan

Hanako's Quirk E.O.R (eyes of Reflection) mainly needs Hanako's eyes to work. Because of this, this has lead Hanako to be partially blind

Hanako Is treated more like a fragile object than a teenage girl in the rich sociery, which she hates. Hanako understands that she may need help considering she's partially blind, but that didn't mean the other rich people should treat her differently

Depsite looking quite shy, Hanako is actually pretty laid back and empathetic, she's willing to listen out to anyone, even the poor which she has been prohibited to talk to. Think of Wendy from gravity falls, Hanako is like her

The main reason Hanako goes to the fight club with Mizuki is because she wants to feel what chaos and danger was like, how it felt, and why her twin was a absolute junkie for it. Due to her Quirk, Hanako was sheltered, but she dosent want to be anymore

SARA ITSUKI

This here, is Sara. She is one of the two main announcers of the fight club

To explain the announcers there's two announcers. One announcer represents the Rich side, one represents the poor. Sara here, is the announcer that represents the poor side.

You know that one introvert meme where it says: 'eww, people' and it shows someone showing both middle fingers? Yeah, well that's Sara. She can speak to a large crowd, but she still dosent like being near people

Sara dosent take excuses for answers, she works proficiently and quickly, as she wants to do all that she can so the poor people won't get executed. So if that means hyping up the crowd, she'll do it.

Sara is basically black cat energy. She's quiet, she's stealthy, and dosent show emotion much, but she's got a kind heart once you get through to her.

Sadly, Sara is extremely judgemental. She believes that the all the rich are monsters, finding joy in pubically executing people just as innocent as them. And Sara is extremely stubborn, so she dosent just change her opinion easily. Hopefully charater Development comes her way

Sara's Quirk, Echolocation, makes Sara able to use sound to see through walls to find others or to check or injuries. So whenever a pro hero is hurt, Sara uses her Quirk to see any long lasting damages.

Feel free to ask questions!

[froggywritesstuff]

don't push it | max mayfield

pairings: Max Mayfield x male!reader

warnings: mental health issues, drugs, swearing, not proofread, everyone's out of character, i forgot how to write enemies to lovers 

request: anon on tumblr : Would you be able to do an enemies to lovers for max mayfield x gn!reader? (Or m!reader if you’re comfortable with that but gn is cool)

A/N: if you can't tell from reading this, i don't know shit about weed, so lemme know if i get anything wrong. 

It was safe to say that you and Max Mayfield didn't get along. You had no idea why, or how it happened. She wanted to join the party, claiming she could be the 'zoomer', which you should've been fine with. But for whatever reason, you couldn't stand her. Though she wasn't exactly trying to get on your good side. No one knew why, but you two had hated each other since the day you met. Unfortunately, Dustin and Lucas immediately took a liking to her, much to your confusion. The sight of her and Lucas dancing at the snowball made your blood boil. Another thing you were confused about. You didn't like her. You hated her. Why did you care that she was dancing with Lucas? Not wanting to think about it any longer, you chalked it up to being jealous of her spending time with one of your best friends. You knew it was silly, but you knew there was another explanation. An explanation you didn't want to hear.

Over the summer of the next year, you found yourself looking and thinking about Max differently. You didn't find yourself getting annoyed by just the sound of her breathing anymore. In fact, the only time you really got annoyed by her was when she was being all girlfriend like with Lucas. You were confused. Fortunately, when Dustin came back, it was apparently extremely obvious to him what your situation was.

"Dude, are you jealous of Lucas or something?" He didn't expect you to actually say yes. More like blurt out the word yes, followed by a series of horrified 'no's, but he still counted it as a yes.

While Dustin found your situation rather amusing, you absolutely hated it. It was so much easier to hate her. It was even worse that she was dating your best friend. How could you ever tell Lucas that you had a crush on his girlfriend? You couldn't. Instead, you just started pretending to hate her to avoid suspicion. It seemed like nothing had changed on her side of the rivalry, so you figured hoped this crush would eventually fade away as quickly as it came, just like your hatred toward her did.

It didn't.

If anything, it got way worse when she and Lucas broke up.

Though she started distancing herself from you and the rest of the party, you still tried starting conversations with her when you could, and would steal glances of her during classes.

Unfortunately, crushing on a girl who would barely talk to you as well as experiencing your first year of high school couldn't come with the usual mental health slips. Apparently this was just common knowledge? Anyway, most days would consist of faking smiles, pretending to pay attention to what was going on around while you dreaded the next day. Once again, you hoped it would disappear just as quickly as it came, but from what happened last time you hoped for that, you didn't have much faith. So instead, you turned to Eddie: Hawkins High Schools Friendly Neighborhood Drug Dealer. You knew him relatively well, being in the same DnD party, so you figured it wouldn't be too hard to get anything from him. While he was reluctant about selling to a minor, you promised him it wouldn't be anything extreme, just taken in small amounts to take your mind off of everything. When that didn't work, the extra fifty bucks you offered did the trick.

You lived up to your promise, only smoking weed after school until your parents got home. You lived in the trailer park near Eddie, so whenever you needed more, you trekked over to his trailer, and repeated the same promise as you did when you first bought from him. Though you were still trying to figure out whether he cared or just wanted the extra fifty bucks.

Despite what the voice in your head tried telling you repeatedly, the weed actually did help. Whenever things would get too much, smoking would always be a good distraction. It's not like being alone with your thoughts would do any good.

When everything seemed to be going alright, you couldn't help but notice all the weird looks you'd get from Max. Normally, your heart would be pounding if you saw Max staring at you, but whenever you saw her staring, she just looked confused or almost suspicious of you. For the time being, you just ignored it. You could've just been imagining things.

Until one night. It was late. It could've been midnight. You didn't bother checking the time before you left your trailer. All you knew was that it was dark. And you couldn't help the sensation that someone was watching you as you knocked on Eddie's door. Luckily, Eddie apparently sold drugs 24/7, and you stepped inside the trailer and left the paranoid feeling at the door.

"Just the usual?" he asked.

"Yeah," you answered, wanting to laugh at how casual he made it sound. You stood near the door as he left to get the weed, feeling more awkward than usual for some reason. As you waited, you found yourself zoned out, staring at a window, a clear view of darkness. Until you saw something. Almost like a silhouette running past the window, and the paranoid feeling came right back.

"Y/N, you ok?"

You jumped around to face Eddie, turning back to the window, seeing no trace of the silhouette, before turning back to your dealer, "Ye-yeah. I'm good." you mumbled, obviously not good. You reached into your pocket, pulling out the money and handing it to Eddie in exchange for the plastic bag. Saying your goodbyes, you exited the trailer, fear rushing through you as you were faced with the darkness. You began walking back to your trailer, almost making it to the front door, when a pair of arms grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you against the metal wall.

A hand covered your mouth before you could scream, and it took you a good five seconds for you to recognize who was in front of you.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Max.

You let out heavy breaths as her hand uncovered your mouth and dropped back to her side, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Normally you'd be all lovey-dovey from any form of contact with Max, but in that situation it was difficult to be.

The red head just glared at you, grabbing your wrist and holding up the bag of weed in your face, "What are you doing with this?"

Your face fell as you somehow freed your wrist from her grip, shoving the bag back in your pockets, "Why do you care?"

"Why do you fucking think? You're my friend!"

Your eyes widened. As far as you were concerned, she wanted you dead. But apparently not.

"Wh-what?"

You didn't miss the eye roll she did, "You're my friend. What are you doing with this?"

You took a deep breath, "I'm just going through some stuff, Max."

"Then you talk to someone about it, not start smoking weed!" she exclaimed, making your eyes widen with fear.

"Keep it down, someone will hear. And it's not that easy talking to someone about it." you saw Max's expression soften at that, an understanding look in her eyes.

"You could've talked to me." she muttered, avoiding eye contact with you.

You furrowed your brows at that, "Why would you listen to me?"

She stared back up at you, the look in her eyes calling you a dumbass. But in a nice way somehow, "I care about you." she paused, "I know I don't have the best way of showing it. Or showing it at all for that matter. But I do."

"You do?"

"I just said I do, just give me one reason not to get pissed off by you." 

You smiled at her, and could almost see a smile of her own creep up on her lips.

"So all those times you called me a dumbass and told me to go fuck myself, that was you caring?"

She rolled her eyes before she began walking away, "Don't push it, Y/N."

buy me a coffee <3

[starg1rlie]

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! (FINALE)

pairing: scaramouche x gn! reader

genre: mild angst

xtra !! notes: okay, i didn't notice, but someone pointed out how fem pronouns were used in the first part, and so, i wanted to apologize <(＿　＿)> i will be sure to proof-read my works in the future! also this is probably going to be either too long or too short, dunno yet since this is just the beginning notes...anyways, thank you for reading this mini-series, i hope that you've enjoyed it so far!

❛ tell me more of 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 , even if its goodbye , tell me . ❜

───── ghost in a flower ; yorushika

"EVERYONE, CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR attention," the teacher called, rapping his ruler lightly against the surface of his desk. everyone's voices quieted down until the room was full of silence.

"as you can see, one of our classmates, y/n, is absent. their parents have reported them to be missing. apparently, they'd run away from home. if you happen to see y/n either on campus or somewhere else, please let us know."

scaramouche dropped his pencil. you were what? ajax flashed a concerned gaze over to lumine, who was trying her best not to burst out in tears. tapping his fingers rapidly against his desk, scaramouche tried to think of a reason why you'd run away. then again, it seemed like the reason was pretty obvious. you were most likely upset after his rejection towards your confession, hiding away in god knows where.

that was the most likely reason. another one would be that something was going on with your family. however, scaramouche didn't have any more time to think about where you could be hiding away at as the teacher pulled out their pop quizzes.

y/n...where are you?

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

there was a memory that would forever be engraved in scaramouche's mind. that one summer night, when the fireworks had begun for the festival. he'd skipped out on cram school once again, settling on kicking rocks down the dusty path that wound up to the top of the hill.

he paused, hearing a crack of a twig being snapped behind him. whipping his head around, he turned to find no one there. just as he was about to walk away, he heard it again, and this time, when he turned, he saw a rustling in the bush.

cautiously walking forward, he pushed past the bristly branches of the bush, ignoring the scratches it gave him. there, he found you crouching in your school uniform, sniffling quietly.

"what the hell are you doing out here?" he asked, plopping to the ground, an irritated expression already forming on his face. he hated the sound of someone crying, it pissed him off so much. crying is for the weak, he told himself. and when you're weak, you'll never amount to anything.

"what- what are you doing here?" you managed to say in between quiet sobs, using the back of your hand to wipe away a new trail of tears.

"i asked first. don't avoid the question," scaramouche retorted, rubbing at his cheek. "it's getting late, don't you have parents or something?"

at this, fresh tears started dribbling down your cheeks. scaramouche looked taken aback, his eyes widening slightly. did he say something wrong? what did he say? god, he didn't know how to comfort someone when they were crying, not that he was interested in comforting you in the first place. he just wanted that infernal sound to stop.

"okay, okay, look- i'm sorry for whatever i said wrong, but can you shut up? you're dripping snot all over the place," scaramouche sneered. you quieted down, and after a few quiet moments of hearing your soft gasps, he shoved his hand into his pant's pocket, pulling out a plastic packet of kleenex and handed it to you.

"take it and clean yourself up. you're a complete mess."

at this, you managed a laugh, but it sound a little stuffy. taking one out of the packet, you blew your nose hard, which startled the boy sitting in front of you.

"you sound like a goose, do you know that?' he said, lips curving up into a smile. you paused your blowing, sniffing slightly as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"does not!" you protested, now grabbing another kleenex tissue and wiping your eyes. when you were done, you gathered up all the clumped tissues and stuffed them into your pouch, standing up unsteadily onto your feet. "...thank you."

"what are you thanking me for? i didn't even do anything." scaramouche scoffed, also standing up. now that the two of you were on your guys' feet, you could tell that he was a bit shorter than you. snickering, you patted his head lightly, to a disbelieving scaramouche.

"god, you're so short. practically all of the guys in our class are taller than you," you said in between giggles. he glared at you, swatting your hands away from his head.

"shut up, before i shove all those tissues down your throat," he threatened, heading back up to the dirt path that he'd been walking on.

"only if you can reach my mouth," you teased lightly, laughing quietly as you followed him up.

"whatever. see you tomorrow," the shortie mumbled, stalking up the path, his school bag banging against his legs as he became smaller and smaller in your vision.

just who did you think you were, talking to him like that?

he kicked a stone rather too hard and watched it clatter down the side of hill, eyes narrowed to practically slits as he opened the door of his home and wrenched off his shoes, tossing them onto the floor before walking into the living room.

his father's altar was set up by his mother already, as per usual: incense candles already lit and a plate of his favorite mochi and an opened can of canada dry in front of a framed picture of his smiling face. putting his hands together, he bowed his head slightly to pay his respects. before he left, though, he flipped the photo so that the picture was face down.

"kunikuzushi?" a voice called from upstairs.

shit, scaramouche thought, quickly running up the stairs and into the comfort of his room. before he settled anywhere, he locked the door again and tossed himself onto the bed, thinking about that strange girl that he'd run into earlier. y/n, was it? you seemed interesting, yet infuriating at the same time. he turned onto his side and let his eyes flicker shut, listening to the steady whirring of his ceiling fan.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

when the bell rang and class was dismissed, scaramouche shoved his textbooks into his school bag and waved off ajax before running out the school's building.

there's no way. there's no way that you could be there....right?

scaramouche pushed past the other students that were swarming out past the doors and continued to run all the way to the hill that lead up to his house.

there was a small shed that someone had built there, most likely to go with the house that used to be there, but apparently a few months ago, it was torn down, and construction began just recently.

this was stupid, completely stupid. why should scaramouche care about you? his mind wanted to have nothing to do with you, but his heart was telling him something else.

this is ridiculous,he thought to himself. i can't like them.

but the more he thought about it, the more he understood was his heart was trying to tell him. you were always there; greeting him rather enthusiastically every morning, giving him some of your bento box (even though he protested against eating your pig slop), and always having that bright, smiling attitude. but that day, the day he said he hated you, your whole happy shell broke, and he saw just how fragile you were.

he shook hsi head rapidly, coming to a screeching stop in front of the place where he saw you crying.

pushing past the bushes, he saw the shed and went over to it. scaramouche pressed an ear against the wooden door and knocked gently on it. he could hear a shuffle of someone moving away and then a quiet "go away."

"y/n, it's me, scaramouche."

"what do you want?" you asked, moving a little closer to the door. he could already sense you were twiddling your thumbs nervously, as you always did when talking to him recently.

"why did you run away? was it because of what happened the other day?" he asked, quite tempted to just kick the door down and grab you by your shoulders to yell at you, but held himself back from doing so.

"or was it because of your parents?' this caused you to stop shifting from foot to foot, for which, scaramouche was grateful, but he was pretty close to yelling at you to stop, because he could hear your shoes crunching on the fallen leaves.

"it's none of your business," you mumbled, shuffling back from the door.

"oh, so now you're going to be like this?" scaramouche called. "what happened to being ultra gaga and eccentric? what happened to the person who always greets me in the most stupidest way possible? what happened to that smile you always wear? was it all just for show?"

"you don't understand. at least you still have your mom. my mom left me. she abandoned me. and she has the nerve to tell me to come live with her. well, i don't need her! i don't need anyone! not you, not dad, and not miss aoi either!"

"yeah, well you still have your dad, don't you?"

"that's different. your dad didn't abandon you. your dad died." he could hear your voice shaking more and more. he couldn't pretend that your statement didn't feel like a hard slap to his face, but he wasn't about to let you just run away from your problems, like he used to.

"he died, so what? we move on! we don't stay-" he paused, trying to open the door, but you held onto the handle from the other side, making it even more difficult to rip it open. "-focused on all the bad things in life! i thought you were always looking for the bright side in things? there's always a silver lining, is there not?"

that statement startled you, and your hands slipped from the handle. finally wrenching open the damn door, scaramouche dragged you up by the collar of your dirt-stained uniform shirt and brought you up close to his face. his breaths came out in uneven puffs as he glared at you.

"you need to wake the hell up! if you're going to be moping about your parents all the time, then you're never going to amount to anything!" scaramouche yelled, shaking you in his grasp.

you remained silent, eyes wide at his actions.

"come back already. your dad and step-mom are probably ready to call the police. lumine's blaming herself, you know. you should come back to school. come back home."

"scaramouche, i-"

he let go of your shirt, letting you drop to the ground. you could tell that he was hesitating about something, by the way he paused when he turned to leave.

"get up already,' scaramouche said, holding out a hand for you to take, the tips of his ears pink.

you heaved yourself up and quickly gave him a hug before he could run away. "you know, you can be quite persuading when you're really into it."

"yeah, well, i guess it ticked me off when you ran away like this," scaramouche muttered, hesitantly wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you closer.

"so...what does this mean?"

"you idiot, were you not paying attention to what i said at all?" scaramouche grumbled but grabbed your chin, yanking you down to be head-level with him. "it means i like you, dummy."

with that, he pressed his lips against yours in a kiss, shutting you up from whatever you were about to say.

you could probably say he was a hypocrite or that he was contradicting himself, but what i think is that, if he learned from his mistakes, then it doesn't really matter. at least the two are finally together.

← previous part | taglist form ↺ | recommended! →

a / n !! - holy shit what did i just create?...

taglist (if i added you and you did not want to be tagged for this fic, please let me know, and i will remove you!) : @belovedxiao, @cesarsbeloved, @seungyaolee, @sunoosbestie, @chickynn, @shizunxie, @jameineliebe, @extrabish, @scaralvr, @angryhope, @mobiussdarling

reblogs / likes / comments are vv much appreciated!! thank you for reading this mini-series, and i hope to see you in my other fics!

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

[magnorious]

Review: ‘We Find Out The Truth, Sort Of’, Percy Jackson Episode 7

TL;DR the flashbacks were the best part of this episode and because they exist, precious minutes serving actual plot were eaten by missed potential. Also someone kidnapped Hades and replaced him with a caricature imposter.

This show is quickly becoming not even enjoyable enough to make fun of, but with two episodes to go, might as well see it through to the end.

Episode 6 left off with some wild Hollywood-y changes to the source material, the biggest being that the summer solstice deadline has already passed and the gods are at war, because tension? Everyone knows the world isn’t going to end, everyone knew it wouldn’t end in the book either — the stakes came from whether or not Percy would be able to prove his innocence and recover his mom. We knew somehow that things would work out, the question was what the cost would be if he failed.

Giving Percy the 4th pearl and making him already fail by the powers that be was an interesting decision. It robs the tension from the rest of the plot if there’s no clock ticking down anymore. Hades, Ares, every single hurdle they face burns more time and forces Percy to risk flying on a plane to reach New York before the deadline... all for Zeus to not give a damn anyway.

But did this interesting choice make for a better or more entertaining story?

—

I’m shocked they kept Crusty’s Waterbeds given how much plot they have left to shove in this story. And, of course, Percy already knows exactly who he is. They finally got a character to look like they did in the book and (for Supernatural fans, it’s the same actor as Death) it’s pretty well done for the costume and makeup department. But all of that is moot once again when the script gives away all the answers.

Percy has no time for Crusty because the plot has no time for Crusty. They try to give him some thematic relevance but they’re sprinting to the finish line now, and they can’t even let Percy kill him, going out of their way to make Annabeth tell him to be happy he gets to keep his head.

Side note- the pearls look like tiny Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

Oh and DOA Studios doesn’t exist, because there’s no time for that but there is certainly time for flashbacks. If I had to pick between Crusty and Charon, I would have preferred Charon 100%, he’s actually a decent guy — but not this version of him. He does actually appear, looking more like a grim reaper than an underpaid middle manager bereft of his Italian suits.

The flashback itself is wonderful, I wish the rest of the show was so nicely written. The second flashback they don’t have time for is also great. I like seeing more of Sally and their struggles growing up, her tireless search for ways to protect her demigod son. This is the kind of filler that helps tell the story, unfortunately it’s at the expense of the existing story this episode, eating up minutes. The *third* flashback eating up minutes is also good, this just isn’t the time for any of these. They should have all been in the St. Louis episode. I hate how good these are, because it shows how good the writing could have been. Baby Percy still runs circles around the older kids’ line deliveries. The **fourth** flashback is well-acted but baffling, more on that later!

The Underworld is grey. Painfully grey. Another reason I wish this show had been animated was full creative freedom to go all out with the design and the colors and the scale. This is just boring- grey and hazy to hide how boring it is. The Underworld is an entire kingdom, it’s a realm, terrifyingly beautiful. There’s black poplar trees and all the different rivers and Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed and Persephone’s garden. The ghosts actually look like ghosts. The kids in this version don’t actually look intimidated by the magnificence of the place. There’s no time to be intimidated.

Cerberus is fine. Annabeth’s waterland ball is swapped in for Grover’s stress ball. But he remained a Rottweiler. What’s not fine is the plot handing Percy 4 pearls only to randomly rescind one by making Grover lose his to recreate the tension they murdered. Percy doesn’t hesitate to give his to Grover and there’s no time for them to have any kind of dramatic argument over who should actually stay behind.

Asphodel is a forest, not a field, i.e. the Fields of Asphodel. The concept is cool, actually. These souls stuck there for so long they’re growing roots into the very fabric of the Underworld. So kudos there, that’s genuinely creepy. The rest of Asphodel is a desert, still not a field, and bright as daylight for some reason when it should be permanent night down there unless you’re in Elysium.

Buuut then said roots tangle up Annabeth and make them leave her behind. Percy doesn’t even try to cut her free and she just takes a pearl to the surface, to be ejected from the plot for now. What regret did she have? Doesn’t matter, no time.

Percy is still too smart for his own good and the plot still hates any mystery whatsoever, so he finds the Master Bolt immediately after the brush with the Pit. The Pit also has no voice of Kronos to make it extra creepy, because there’s No Time For That. The entire point of the Chekov’s gun that was those shoes is tossed aside.

The Underworld continues to be painfully grey and beige. Hades isn’t grey, though, oh no. Hades isn’t Hades either. I kept waiting for the reveal that he’s just one of Hades’ Furies in disguise or even a lesser spirit he orders around to screw with people. I waited, and kept waiting. The dude who played Hades in the movie was more accurate.

They still do argue. Percy still accuses Hades of meddling. They argue in front of a random living room instead of a godly Underworld throne. Maybe that wasn’t in the budget. I’m still waiting for Hades to drop this ridiculous act and toss this puppet aside. He starts offering sanctuary when book Hades desperately wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever was brewing between Zeus and Poseidon, claiming now he needs another god’s weapon to defend himself and I don’t think signature weapons are so easily transferable. Percy and Grover get the heck out of dodge shortly after.

Then Poseidon shows up in the fourth flashback and, well, Percy does have his hair (but not his random British accent). No Hawaiian shirt and khakis in sight. This exists to make Poseidon and Sally’s love for their son more tangible, but in the first book he’s a dick. He’s not seen on the page until Percy meets him on Olympus and the god is a huge disappointment to him. Poseidon begins narrating like this is the season finale, Ares shows up, and cut to black.

The entire book we’re left in limbo on where Poseidon stands, if he’s going to be as spiteful and selfish as Zeus or Dionysus. That reveal on Olympus meant something. But at this point I’m tired of arguing why scenes matter when the show couldn’t care less.

At this point making book comparisons doesn’t matter anymore because this just isn’t Percy Jackson anymore. The characters have their names, sure, but that’s about all the due diligence that’s paid to the source material. I watched this with someone who hadn’t seen a single episode before nor read the books and even they commented that it’s horribly rushed. Even without Percy Jackson’s name on the marketing, they’ve been questing to the Underworld for the entire season and *this* is what we get for it?

Here’s to hoping the entire budget for fight scenes went to the finale so Percy can kick Ares’ ass.

[therosebunpost]

Summer Vacation Regrets

—————

Steve Harrington x Disabled! Disfigured!Fem!Reader

The Summer where you finally get that major surgery, but for some reason you don’t want to hang out with Steve before it happens. (A prequel/drabble to my Regret Series)

TW: Underaged drinking, heavily discussion of surgery, self esteem issues, hospitals, mentions of a near death incident, Reader is as neutral as possible but this story is heavily influenced by my life and experiences, so there may be some incidental coding. (Please feel free to give me feed back on anyway I can make this better!)

(Not beta’d, so I apologize for grammar)

—————

Steve was looking forward to summer. He already had it mapped out. Taking a job at the pool as a lifeguard, he was determined to save up for a car by the time he was 16 years old. His parents were proud, he was proud, and you were proud. Proud enough to promise him that you’d make the trek to hang out with him at the pool as many times as your parents let you, or you could sneak away on your big, clunky three wheeled bike.

It’s why getting that call was so confusing.

“I…I can’t hang out with you at the pool anymore. At least not for a few months.”

“Months? How many??”

There was some muttering on the line that Steve couldn’t quite make out. Not that he was really focusing on it too much. Months? You wouldn’t hang out with him for months?

“Two, two months.”

He says your name, exasperated. “That’s almost the entire summer! We’ll only have a month left!”

More muttering, now he can hear the sudden pain in your voice. “Wait, it…it might be…the whole Summer, Stevie.”

“What?!”

“I just came back from my doctor. They say it’s finally time, that I’m so close to getting my prosthetic. I just need to um, do something else first. That I need to recover from. So, no pool or anything.”

That gets him to calm down, just a bit. Right, your appointment. Your surgery. “Well, alright. Then we’ll just hang out another way! You know there’s that movie coming out, maybe you can ask your mom-“

“I can’t.”

Steve blinks, once again confused. “O…kay. I’ll bring stuff over then! Or you can come over! Oh, we could hang out in my pool. Does your mom know I’m a lifeguard? I promise we’ll be super safe, and she can even stay over with you, we have the room-!”

“I don’t want you to see me!”

There was that pain in your voice again.

"Oh god Steve it's, it's so awful. They have to put this implant inside of me, and it's gonna end up looking like this growth on my face. I hate it, I hate this so fucking much." You finally break down on the phone and Steve takes a moment to gather what your saying.

Sometimes the things you went through confused him. He's known you for years at this point but your condition still didn't make a lot of sense to him. From what you've told him, it didn't make sense to your doctor's either.

"...So I can't see you at all? You really are gonna spend all summer alone?"

"We can still call." You rush to tell him, and Steve can imagine the way you strangle the phone cord in your hands. "I dont…i just don't want to be seen. But I'll call you. i'll call you everyday."

"...When is it? The..implant?"

"Next week. Im going to home school for the last weeks of school."

"Holy shit, your serious?"

"Yeah. It's…Its bad, Steve. I…I cried after they told me the plan. Right in the room with mom."

"...Will you at least come over one more time this week? At least come hang out at the pool once?"

"..I'll ask mom."

-.-.-

Your mom does say yes, and hanging out at the pool was just as fun as Steve thought it would be. Sure, you couldn't swim but you hung out with him in the guard chairs. You spent the night, and you both sneak out to hang by his pool, alone.

Steve, ever the bad influence at times, passes you the bottle of beer. "...Are you really not going to do anything? Or see anybody?"

"...I just…I think I was finally starting to accept my appearance and now this? For months? I just…I hate it so much. Its like the universe hates me."

"It's probably won't be as bad as you think, I mean-"

"It's gonna be pretty damn bad. like, it's gonna be the size of my cheek. Maybe even bigger! I'll look gross." You lean back against the warm ground.

"The doctor said they could do a skin graph but they wanted to use the skin on my face first so it matches better. But like come on, it's all my skin, the difference can't be that much! It's not like they had that issue trying to use a part of my rib as a prosthetic!"

"....Didn't you say that your body…like…sucked it back in and that's why it didn't work?"

".....Okay, fair but still! A balloon?? On my face? It's like they don't even fucking care how awful that's going to be.The stares I'll get, the grossed out faces. It's like, how do they expect me to live with that?"

Steve laid down with you, and while he didn't know a lot about what you were going on about, he knows your frustrated.

"Remember when you got that bar on your face? The metal one?"

You gave him a look. "..Yeah?"

"You lived after that. You survived."

"I was like, five."

"So? You gonna let a five year old be braver than you?"

"Oh that is not the same-"

"Okay, what about when you got that thing out of your stomach? The feeding thing-"

"My G-tube?"

"Yeah. You literally bragged about having your stomach stuff coming out of you and just living with it. We were like, ten?"

"Im still not over the fact that the doctors didn't believe me about it not closing all the way, those jackasses."

Steve says your name and you sigh. "Okay fine, but that was then and this is now. I'm older, I care more about myself."

Steve snickers and you reach over and shove at him. He makes a show of nearly falling into the pool which you scoff at.

"Last summer, you and I went out on a canoe together without a person with us. Mind you, you could have died if we tipped over. We gave the counselors a heart attack."

You laugh at the memory, the rebellion rushing through your veins. "I had you with me!"

For a moment Steve is taken aback, but he's quick to shake his head with a smile. "Obviously. But anyway, are you gonna let this get you? Are you just not gonna hang out with me because of a bunch of assholes? Do you think I'm an asshole?"

That makes you whip around to face him, aghast. "No, Steve what-"

He levels you with a long stare. "Then why do you think I'd care about it? You're my friend. I wanna spend the summer with you. Not just over the phone, which is bullshit because you hate phone calls anyway."

It's a moment like this where you ponder the real reason you don't want him to see you. The real reason that you refuse to acknowledge because it will never happen.

Only in fairy tales, or movies, or books. Things that happened to Pretty Girls, like the ones Steve talks about sometimes.

"...I'm scared." You whisper, softly. "...I'm really scared, Steve. This…this is going to change my life. I dunno if I'm ready for that." You look out at the water, which glows from the pool lights. "I've been told my whole life how this will fix things. Fix me. Getting this prosthetic, getting my trach taken out. There's gonna be a lot of benefits, yeah, but…I'm angry that I have to do this shit. I'm angry that it's something I just have to grin, and bare because there's no other fucking alternative."

Steve watches you as you talk. His eyes trained on the shape of your lips, the way the sounds are altered, the light of the pool on your face. You look…tired. More tired than anyone your age should be.

"....You know uh…worms?" He snickers a little when you furrow your eyes at him. "They go through that thing, that change thing."

"Metamorphosis."

"Yeah, metamor-whatever."

"Okay, end? Also those are caterpillars."

"Your a worm!"

"Caterpillar."

"Oh my god, shut up-"

You laugh, silent but obvious with the way your shoulders shake and you lean your head back.

"But like yeah, this is you going through your meta-thing. You're gonna be a pretty butterfly or Oh! A Swan. Yeah."

Pausing at his words, you can feel the heat creep up your cheeks. "...Pretty?" You echo, shy and just a little uncertain.

"Well duh. Really pretty." Steve insists, beaming at you. It's a brash, kinda backwards compliment but he's trying. He's really trying, and you aren't sure if you can keep shoving those fluttering feelings away.

-—————-

Those last three weeks of school pass. Steve doesn't get to see you until the first week of Summer, where he bikes all the way to your house. He had called to tell you he was coming, so he doesn't knock when he gets there.

"So, how did it go- Whoa-"

Well, you were not kidding. The implant was obvious. Very obvious, and Steve forced himself not to stare at it. Not that it mattered, since you were already crumbling away from him.

"It's awful, I know-" You gush, devastated. "Feels weird too." Your eyes are red rimmed from crying and Steve stands there awkwardly. Fuck, he was not good with crying.

"No! It's…Its not that bad. I just had a hard time picturing what it looked like when you told me." He explains, the words spilling from him. It was the truth, he really didn't know what to expect. "It's not bad, I swear on my collection of baseball cards, it's not!"

You narrow your eyes at him. "...Even the signed ones?"

"Yeah."

Your shoulders slowly relax and you rub at your eyes. You were always good at coming back from crying. Steve, well, he wishes he could bounce back that fast.

"..Wanna watch a movie?" He suggests, already heading into the living room. "Any one you want!"

-----

After that, the weeks passed and you slowly grew bored of keeping yourself locked away like some princess, or troll. You slowly started joining your mother on her errands. The implant grew and grew, but after a while you got used to it. Steve barely glanced at it anymore, instead focused on spending the summer with you, whenever you had the chance.

You do end up hanging out with him during lifeguard duties. He jokes about having you as his assistant whenever you bring him water or snacks, but you always retaliate with squirting at his hair with a water gun.

It's not all perfect. You do get stares. People sometimes avoid you, and kids your age are cruel, but Steve is there. He's getting popular, and with whatever grade school cred he has, he makes sure to use some of it to protect you.

It all shifts when the surgery finally arrives. You and Steve are sitting out by his pool again, now a month and a half older. "...I'm gonna miss you, at camp." He states, taking a sip of another beer.

"...Your still going??" You raise an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"Because I like it? Besides, I'm thinking about being a counselor. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Well, I…I mean I'm not gonna be there." You state, and the words sound ridiculous as soon as you let them out. Steve laughs and you shove at him. "I'm gonna miss you, sure, but I still wanna go! I need to defend my swimming record, and I already have what I'm gonna wear for theme night! Wouldn't you still go if I couldn't?"

The way he says it, it sounds like the answer should be obvious. The camp was for people like you, after all.

He says your name after a moment, confused. "...Wouldn't you?"

"...I dunno." You admit after a moment, breathing in slowly. "....It's kinda fun, but sometimes I hate the atmosphere. I hate the way the counselors talk to me at times, like I'm stupid. I don't feel like…I'm disabled enough to warrant even being there. Hanging out with you, it actually makes me enjoy it. It feels like an actual camp."

Steve doesn't say anything for a while. You watch the way his brows furrow, and the contemplative frown on his lips. "...Does that mean…last year was your last year?"

You ponder it before shaking your head. "...I want to go with you." You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your swim suit. "If you become a counselor, then I will too! Like hell am I gonna let you boss me around even more."

He laughs, loud and clear. You're jealous, and awed all at the same time. "But I will probably stop one day, I think."

Steve nods, and you wonder if the sadness in his eyes is just a trick of the light.

----

The next morning, you go in for early surgery. Steve is antsy the whole day, though he isn't sure why. You were a pro at this! He's heard countless stories about your various surgeries, so why does this one feel so…great? Monumental?

He doesn't get to come see you until the next day. He walks in, holding a bouquet of flowers and a plush of your favorite animal. He hopes he doesn't look as tired as he feels. He woke up early at 6 AM, zoning out to Twilight Zone reruns until 8, where he stumbled around to get ready to see you again. It hadn't been that long ago, but it felt like maybe you had gone three months without seeing each other.

As he makes his way over to your room, he's reminded of an episode he watched. A hospital themed one. It kind of confused him, really. The woman got surgery to be beautiful, but it failed.

Steve turns a corner, and passes a plastic surgery office where he can hear the distant sounds of a meeting.

He remembers watching the bandages being removed, and thinking he heard them wrong. The woman was beautiful. The surgery was a success and yet…the hospital staff had recoiled. He had been blown away by the revelation of what the doctors and nurses looked like, and something in the back of his mind wished you could have seen it with him.

He steps into the hospital room, his eyes landing on you. Your face isn't fully bandaged up, but there's a strip of cloth that keeps your mouth shut. You look as exhausted as he feels. Your eyes slowly open to see him, only to become slightly panicked.

"Hey." He greets, slowly walking closer and settling down in the plastic chair beside your bed. You don't say anything, you can't, but Steve does. "Y'know, I'm kinda confused." He admits, gently placing the tiny stuffed toy on your bed. “I don’t think the doctors did much.” You make a noise of confusion, gesturing at the bandage on your face. Obviously they did, what was he even getting at here?

"No, really. Like sure, the balloon thing is gone, but you look the same to me, Miss Butterfly." He admits, leaning on his arms and gazing up at you. Watching as the words slowly register. You slowly smile, eyes shining with tears before you wince and grab at your notepad.

'Stop making me smile, my face hurts like a bitch. >:('

He laughs, shaking his head and reaching over to grab the remote for the TV. "I'll ask the nurse for more drugs, maybe you'll be a little nicer to me." He grins, and flips through the channels. "But hey, there's this episode I want you to see.."

Midway through the re-runs, you fall asleep. The drugs and the pain dragging you under. Steve sits there, his hand in yours. He eyes the IV, his thumb brushing against the bandage keeping it inside. His gaze travels up your arm, and lands on your face. Your expression wasn’t exactly peaceful, but he was glad you were resting.

“I was scared this morning.” He admits, emboldened by the silence. “I know you’re like, super good at all of this, but…yeah.” He trails off, letting his eyes slowly drift closed. “You do look really pretty. In your hospital bed, or..anywhere really. You always have.”