#crumbles down into nothingness and i hate everything i do and gods fuck i want to cry but i can because there are people at home and

[zoppzoop]

GAAHAHHHHH

[nctsworld]

reigniting

✩ mark x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | car s*x | smut | fluff | 1.6k

SUMMARY ⇾ your hate for your dance captain (and ex-best friend) melts and evolves into something more for the night. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ smut (near the end), car s*x, swearing, angst in backstory RATING ⇾ mature FOR ⇾ @markleesflathead​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ yes i’m bitter that most of my fics in ask form don’t show up in tag so i might have to post them as individual fics hhh || @markleesflathead​ idk how this ended up into car s*x but i’m sorry if it isn’t what you really expected slkfmd also i’m v flattered to be one of your fave writers *_* thanks for the bday wishes!!

“I missed this.”

Mark suddenly says into the air after catching his breath from all the laughing he just did. With the hand that’s been resting on the steering wheel since he parked the car fifteen minutes ago, he swipes his thumb against it.

Your laughter subsides too, turning your head in the passenger seat to get a good look at him.

The closest street lamp isn’t near enough to cast a light to see all his features clearly, but you don’t need much lighting to see the waver behind his bespectacled face, nor the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

“I missed you,” he whispers softly, then matches your eyes with a tilt of his head.

The beginning was simple. You and Mark, best friends since middle school, about to attend the same university and were going to do everything together, including extracurriculars.

Which included the university’s main competitive hip-hop dance team, since both of you were on your high school’s too.

From what you heard from upperclassmen, every year, the team offered at least five spots open. Of course, Mark and you were confident in yourselves and each other to make the team.

But during your first year, only one spot was available on the team.

The straining of your friendship began to slowly occur, since you saw less of each other in order to train more individually for the auditions.

And when the auditions happened, there was a new tension between Mark and you. Still friends, but competitiveness was a prevalent wall between you two.

The wall grew larger, tangled with vines of jealousy and bitterness, when Mark received the spot, not you.

Both parties tried hard to keep the friendship afloat, but it eventually came crashing down.

“You’re just fucking jealous that I got in and you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you said. “and I should be, because I’m the better dancer.”

“As if.” he scoffed. He spat out the next words venomously—

“If you were better they would’ve chose you, but you’ve just never been as good of a dancer as me.”

That was the last time you spoke to Mark... for a while, at least.  

When second year came by, you decided to prove him wrong and obtain a spot on the team. Successfully, you did, but partway through the term, the captain dropped out and, to your dismay, Mark was given captaincy.

Fast-forward to today, Mark constantly gave you shit during practices and you knew it was personal.

Sure, you could’ve quit, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. However, you always did wonder why he didn’t decide to kick you off the team when he had the power to do so.

Following one practice, Mark ordered you to come by the studio on a separate night for a talk. He claimed it to be extra training, but you were mentally prepared for him to finally remove you from the team.

However, you were wrong and the unexpected happened—the wall between you two began to crumble. The hostile professionalism during the extra session grew into an area of familiarity, remnants of a lost friendship. After the session, Mark swallowed his pride and apologized about what he said back then, even offering to take you out to dinner.

During the meal, both of you caught each other up on the last year or so, and at the end of the night, Mark drove you home.

Laughing, smiling, and talking with you like the last couple of years were a nightmare faded into nothingness.

And you didn’t mind it, because you missed him too.

But instead of telling him that, you nibble on your bottom lip and rock your head forward with a small smile.

Continuing the conversation from where you left off, after Mark agreed to stop giving you such a hard time during practice, you say, “Can I ask you to stop doing one more thing during practice?”

“What’s up?”

“Please, for the love of God,” you say with your hands clasped in a prayer. “Stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting.”

A hearty chuckle escapes from Mark, leaning his head back into the headrest. “Why is it distracting?”

“You know why!” you exclaim, beaming. “I know you do it on purpose!”

He cocks an eyebrow playfully. “And why would I do that?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "Because I know the oh-so humble Mark Lee still loves it when he gets attention."

The driver runs his tongue over the bottom of his teeth in a smirk, hand still on the steering wheel.

"And what about you?” he retorts. “You must still have a thing for arms if you think it's distracting."

You gasp inaudibly, unsure of how he could still remember that tidbit after all these years, and you twist your upper body to inch near him, glaring at him accusingly. "Is that why you do it?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." he shrugs nonchalantly. Leaning closer to you, parroting your stance, he adds in a teasing whisper along with a squint of his eyes.

"You'll never know."

There’s a passing beat as your eyes lock, one that carries the weight of the years of loving each other as friends, hating each other as enemies, working together as dancers, and everything in between.

A moment of connection that represents what everything has been working towards to for a long time, even if you never thought you’d have the chance to ever have Mark in your life again.

His look falters for a millisecond, flicking to your lips, then straight back to your eyes as if he shouldn’t have done that.

The corner of your mouth lifts slightly.

"Are you going to kiss me, Mark,” you whisper daringly. “or are you going to keep staring?"

You’re awfully aware of both of your breathing. Yours, heavy and wanting. His, light and barely existent.

"How do you know I wanna kiss you?" he croaks, a small crack in his voice underlying his question.

Because maybe a little part of you always wondered what it’d be like for Mark Lee to want to kiss you since you were kids—for him to send you that anxious starry-eyed yearning that could send your heart into cardiac arrest.

And now, from first-hand experience, you know it really does.  

You hold your breath and question back—

"Am I wrong?”

The tension in the air snaps. He’s fast to cup your cheeks and crash his mouth into yours. Soft lips move in tandem with yours as you rest your hands on his shoulders, lightly tugging at his body.

The first, tender kiss is quickly thrown aside, along with your shirts. The desire escalates immensely and you’re suddenly straddling him in the driver’s seat, now pushed back to give extra room for both individuals.

"Should we slow down?" you ask offhandedly at one point while Mark’s mouth leaves a hot trail down the side of your neck. At the same time, his fingers glide and grip onto your bare waist, making their way to grasp your breasts.

Mark jerks away from your neck and carefully caresses the back of your head. "Do you want to?"

"Mm-mm,” you hurriedly shake your head and drag him into another strong kiss.

The exciting rush continues to run through both bodies present. When you return to the passenger seat momentarily to rid of your pants, Mark shimmies his bottoms and briefs down to his ankles and pulls a condom from his glove compartment.

“How often do you have car sex?” you joke, straddling him once again after he wraps himself.

In his reclined position, Mark looks up and scans your body quickly, both indulging in your natural beauty and in disbelief that you are here with him right now, after all these years.

“Hey, a guy’s gotta be safe—fuck, God.”

All quips and logic are thrown out the window when you sit on his length.

You have one hand pressed against his defined stomach, the other on the car ceiling. Bouncing with no end in sight, you allow the pleasure to enrapture your senses. Muffled whimpers reverberate against the inner side of your wrist as you feel him deeply with every movement.

On the other hand, Mark tries his best to keep his focus on you, but the intensity breaks him down. He groans in pace with your moving body, and he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Mark—” you cry. You rip your hand from the car roof and, without thought, frantically push it against the driver’s window, smudging the frost that all your collective breathing conjured up. You’re surprisingly already coming undone, and so is your lover beneath you.

“I’m close,” he pants thickly. His hazy gaze attempts to meet your half-lidded eyes, but you’re losing control. All you can do is barely nod and as you’re about to bounce more vigorously, Mark releases your waist and raises himself upward, clutching your back and neck to lock lips fiercely with yours.

You barely can thrust against him, but you don’t need to at this point, because the kiss is simply enough to draw out his climax.

You’re pulled back to reality after a few moments, panting with your foreheads tipped against one another.

“And to counter your question from before,” Mark grins, still breathing heavily. “I’ll only stop rolling my sleeves up during practice if you stop tying your shirt up to show off your waist.”

You try to stifle a smirk, but it can’t be helped. You reply to him with a flutter of the tip of your nose against his.

“No deal, captain.”

nctsworld’s birthday week celebration!

[maggyoutthere]

This "Everywhere At The End Of Time" thing has been showing up on my recommendations list on youtube. What even is this thing-

I mean it sounds neat. I'm like half an hour in and I like it :/ it's so nostalgic with the static and record scratches. I'm a sucker for ambient music and these sound neat

Edit:

Reached Stage 2

What is happening why is this triggering something in me. Like I can clearly tell something's wrong. You can still hear the music but the static and record scratches are louder.

I'm kinda scared though. As much as I love listening to music I can tell when something is just more than your typical summer hit or even mental health PSA. What is this-

Edit 2

K so apparently this is an album representing various stages of dementia. That's a tricky thing to do but I have faith in music. It's a great way to express stuff so I'm very curious to what this is gonna turn out like.

Edit 3

Idk if I like where this is going.

"I still feel as though I am me" broke me a little for some reason. Idk why but it just stood out differently to me. I am very very hesitant to jump some tracks to get to hear the other stages still today. Most of these tracks transmit the same idea but I didn't want to leave out anything.

Also no I hate rb stuff to make those threads. Have the consecutive edits of this thing.

Edit 4

STAGE 3 YOU CAN'T JUST CUT OFF LIKE THAT WHAT THE HELL-

Little heart attack I just had aside, I'm liking it so far. It's starting to get very uneasy but I think that's the point of it. Goodness gracious Stage 3 scared the absolute crap out of me. It cut just like that. So abruptly and caught me off guard. Not even a fade out, damn.

Edit 5

I had to skip some tracks from the second half of Stage 3 and

oh no

Edit 6

Reached Stage 4

I am having some very visceral reactions to this. It is incredibly unnerving but I want to keep listening to it so much. I love how it’s not even music anymore, it’s just... noise. Lots of different noises all crumbled up together, unified by some vely loud static.

Might have to skip some bits here because all Stage 4 songs are 30 min long each.

Edit 7

MOMS COME PICK ME UP OH FUCK OH GOD NO NO NO NO

I HATE IT HERE BUT I LOVE IT BUT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It’s so hard to put down what this is doing. I’m not even sorry for rambling just take this post for what it is idfk if people are even reading this but holy fuck.

The 30 minute ones are killing me from the inside out. I’m very sensitive to audio and sounds (probably because of autism) and this is just pulling all the levers in my brain. It’s so- i have no idea what to call it. Sensory triggering?? I guess???

Edit 8

Stage 5.

Oh... god. 

Edit 9

Reached Stage 6

This has no description, both in the video and in my head. The sheer nothingness something so loud can transmit; the void where something should be but you can't remember what. Blessed were the minutes when I was still listening to the first track; there was music at least. Now there's just this emptiness, this absolutely deafening silence.

The worst is that you know exactly what's going on.

Edit 10

Listening to the last track: Stage 6 - Place in the World fades away

Everywhere At The End Of Time is a series exploring dementia, its advancement and its totality.

I cannot put to words what an absolute masterpiece this is. To tackle such a serious mental illness like this one is already an incredibly hard thing to do; to make art out of it is risky, to make it work is nothing short of a miracle.

The Caretaker (pseudonym of the composer) is an absolute master of his craft. To use something so carefully constructed as music and sound to make sense of something that makes someone not make sense is a challenge to say the least. How do you even go about it? In music there are bound to be rhythms and leitmotifs and patterns: there is bound to be organization.

This is where EATEOT absolutely excels in. I don't know if this could be called of music but I'll surely call it of art; the genius of these tracks are in their editing rather than in their composition. The first 2 stages are pretty much just songs with static noises and record scratches layered on top. It gets the message across: there is still memory, it's just blurry, washed out. It's there but it's hard to see.

From then on out, everything changes. Stage 3 keeps the background noise going, now repeating certain parts of the songs or even reverberating them. The memories themselves are starting to change, not just getting difficult to access. Stage 4 sees the absolute fear and horror of realizing such thing is happening. The grasping at anything in pure terror of forgetting everything. There is no such thing as music now. It's unnerving, it's uneasing, and rightfully so. This does not sugarcoat things and I personally like that.

Stage 5 hits us with a certain calmness after the storm. Things aren't better of course, they're just quieter. Memories are starting to dissapear completely and now there is mostly only the background noises.

Then comes Stage 6. It's desolated, it's deserted, it's nothing. It's gut wrenching. I'd like to touch on the last song because I particularly liked this one. "Place in the World fades away" is, in my opinion, divided into 2 parts. In the 1st half you have static and noise. There is nothing in there. The occasional crescendo almost scares you because of how hollow the mind seems to be at this point, but it leads nowhere. Then there's the 2nd half. You start to hear music. Actual music this time. A choir of voices, still echoing from somewhere else remind you of how it first started: with the music. It puts things into perspective and signals you towards the first of this 6-part series, how far we've come. Then, as if telling what must be told, the music fades away, leaving you with a whole minute of absolute silence. No static, no record scratches, literally a whole minute of dead silence.

I found myself continuously going back to this tumblr post and to the comment section of the video; I didn't want to feel like I was experiencing this alone, and I was glad to see people in the comment section helping eachother out, talking and venting, so that was heartwarming.

I know I'm not usually very serious about things but I wanted to try and do it for this absolute magnum opus. I like to critique stuff as much as the next guy, but to be able to analyze something like this is unique. If you want something to challenge you emotionally, something to make you think and reflect on things, this is an absolute must.

Tl;dr: Everywhere At The End Of Time is a haunting representation of dementia, both in its advancement and in its totality. It's really profound and definitely worth a try if you have some free hours.

[celestialholz]

... I know, right? ‘Where the hell have you been, woman?’ I hear you all shouting from the rafters, and to that I say: the world has fucked me, and not in a good way. I don’t have a job any longer, I probably won’t have an apartment shortly, but what I do have is the ability to write good and ridiculous Qcard again thanks to the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest and I’ll be damned if I squander it! For the uninitiated, the contest aims to find ‘the worst opening lines in all fiction that will hopefully never be complete', and naturally I took one look at this and went ‘inspirational, stunning, fantastic, drown me in it’ because I am absolutely wild. So with my grand thanks to the genius that is Mr Archer, welcome thusly to a little thing I like to called Timed Out. :D

Have missed this, honestly... (Selma, I know you’ll want in, and thus @q-card ^_^)

--------------------------------------------------

Q of the Continuum hovered in silence, peering dully through a galaxy-wide nebula of dimness, with the exact same grimace he’d been sporting since he’d accidentally destroyed the phenomena known as time, twelve centimetres ago.

“Well, it could be worse,” he thought aloud, rationale not quite keeping up with his inner mutterings. “Who even needs time? I’ll just... I’ll just pretend it never happened. No one will even notice, it’ll be absolutely fine!” 

He sighed deeply, dispelling particles of nebula across light... inches? Furlongs? Something non-timey, he imagined. 

His siblings were going to kill him. 

“It could be worse, it could be worse,” he murmured as a sort of enigmatic mantra, wincing at the sheer chaos; trillions upon trillions of threads were scattered where they’d once led to individual worlds and lives beneath the blankness, the grandest and most horrific tangle of wool in the knitting box that was the universe. “I can absolutely fix this, completely -”

He tugged at sixteen ribbons simultaneously, all of which crumbled to atoms beneath his touch. Well, what was sixteen mortals having no perception of their own mortality, or their wedding anniversaries, or their children’s birthdays? Who would even notice? Certainly not them... 

Were entities supposed to covet large quantities of stiff alcohol? Perhaps Jean-Luc would have something relevant, a nice dose of mental clar -

Oh stars, he realised silently. Merde!

He snapped instantly, summoning his beloved captain; Jean-Luc Picard stood stock-still, frozen in a moment, brow ironically risen as he stared unknowingly into the dust of shattered time.

“Well, mildly awkward,” Q began at a man who definitely couldn’t hear him, feeling a practice run may be in order. “You see, dear, this was the linear progression of the universe, but you know of course that I like to tinker whilst you’re at work...” He cleared his throat pointedly, started again - that would hardly pass.

“’What’s this, darling?’ I hear you enquire affectionately, not at all furiously... well, my precious captain, I’m glad you asked! This was time, and now it’s slightly... exploded, but -”

His head spontaneously fell into his hands, a moan of sheer despair rising in an anguished muffle. Maybe he should summon an impenetrable wall, hide behind it for the rest of... space, he assumed. Perhaps several billion metres’ worth.

Never mind his siblings, his husband was going to murder him fathoms before they even realised his cataclysmic idiocy.

What is it humans say, Q - ‘rip the band-aid off’? 

He stood a little straighter, grimaced painfully, concentrated, and clicked; Picard’s physical form miraculously began to ignore the fact it was outside the time that no longer existed, though he seemed rather surprised at his position in open space, and even more astonished at what was before him.

“Q? What in the name of - where are we?” He snapped. “I’m rather in the middle of something -”

“Oh, I’m sure you were absolutely swept off your feet,” Q breezed, “but you’ve no need to worry about that any longer, I assure you... or possibly ever again.”

There was an awkward pause, charged by the most caustic of glares.

“What the hell have you done?”

He should vanish, Q knew in the protracted few millimetres, or send him home, find a way to fix it alone, because how in the cosmos’ name was a mere human meant to help with this, however extraordinary he was? 

‘Communication is key to this relationship’s success, Q - if we are to flourish, you must explain your actions when necessary, and I mine.’ It had been whispered against his human shell in the dead of evening, a soft understanding, and he’d shivered against the silent vow of the promise his eyes offered.

“You’re going to grievously overreact, Jean-Luc.” 

“That is a distinct possibility, yes.”

How very reassuring. He swallowed, spun the man to the madness before him.

“So, once upon a -” wonderful phrasing there, Q... “That whole ‘time’ thing, mon capitaine, the one you really enjoy following the regular mortal pathway of?”

Picard paled four distinct shades, and Q absently checked he’d oxygenated him sufficiently.

“That’s... time?!”

“It was,” the god corrected, wishing the thankfully intact fabric of reality would swallow him, essence and all, where he hovered. “It’s a comprehensive mess, now. We are thoroughly timed out. Out of time, my dear. Do hope your uniform’s a timeless fashion -”

“Fix it,” Picard commanded simply, eyes ablaze with the fires of supernovas. Q rolled his own in exasperation.

“If I could just fix it, do you think we’d be having this conversation?”

Fury and despair in flawless equilibrium met him, and he subtly shifted in discomfort.

“Are you trying to suggest that time itself is irreparably fractured?”

Good galaxies, they’d gotten to raised voices... “Well no, not quite. I’m trying to suggest that it doesn’t exist at all. No connections, threadbare, mostly gaseous... a comprehensive disaster, if you will.” He cleared his throat, chancing a glance at his livid husband. “You’re not appreciating the flippancy.”

“Indeed not,” snapped Picard. “You will fix this, dammit!”

Q was glad one of them had some level of confidence, at least. “I’m going to try very hard, Jean-Luc. What would be helpful is a good mortal perspect -”

Ah, he realised. I’m in love with one of those.

He levelled the still-enraged captain with his most curious gaze, glimmer of a smile tugging at lips. “How good are you at sitting still, dear?”

Picard pursed lips primed to throw the most toxic of statements at his usually beloved before Q tilted his head in deferrence.

“... Might be for several hundred light-kilometres... fear not, I faithfully promise to keep you alive!”

“Consider me reassured,” Picard spat, before letting loose a frustrated sigh that sounded rather more like a snarl. “Will you at least grant me a seat, then?”

-------------------------

“Right!” Q muttered three weeks on, having finally reestablished the concept of a week in the past several light millimetres. Seconds had almost reappeared - he estimated it would take an extra quarter-parsec or so. “Almost done, dear - did you perhaps need a break? I could chill some wine -”

No, Picard thought at him coldly, unable to do much else whilst he was viewing the whole of space-time through a wide-angled lens - ‘I need someone who understands linearity, dearest! An electron microscope of simplicity. I avow you shall forget everything you ever learned!’ He took a brief second to twitch just slightly, to pointedly sharpen a dulled glare of utter rage. Finish the damned job!

“Duly noted, just thought I’d ask...”

... He was definitely going to be sleeping on the couch for a good while to come, he knew in defeat.

---------------------------

“Well, that was educational,” Q had murmured eventually, withdrawing from his husband’s mental space completely at last. It had been two million, four hundred and nineteen thousand, two hundred and six seconds, a concept that finally made complete sense again. He could divide it down to the yoctosecond, round it up to the closest eon, meet himself in the middle and long-multiply the distance in working days from Saturn to the lower atmosphere of Betazed at warp three and a half.

It might well take at least that long for Jean-Luc to forgive him, he thought dully.

Well, at least they had the luxury of allowing him the time now - and if he snuck in silently next to him once he was asleep, altered his mass to nothingness to remain undetected, he wasn’t about to mention it.

“Goodnight, Jean-Luc,” he announced mildly, readjusting a blanket slung haphazardly across the couch.

“I hate you,” his husband replied frostily. “Lights.”

He knew better than to click them out. “Oh, you don’t.”

“I really wish I did, sometimes.”

Q grinned merrily, hiding it behind the covers of Shakespeare’s complete works.

[asgardianthot]

Hunting Season (sambucky) – Part 1

Fake Dating AU

Series Masterlist

Summary: The Barnes family is your average rich people circus. With Bucky’s post-breakup financial depression, and a literal treasure hunt at stake, his best friend Sam finds himself in a mad situation in order to help him. They sure can pretend to be together, but that’s just the easy part.

A/N: You want some clichés? I’ll give you some clichés! Fake Dating, friends to lovers, asshole ex-boyfriend, only one bed, mutual pinning, slowburn, you name it :) Also rich!Bucky headcanon because I can.

Words: 3944

The night before.

"What is it this time?" Sam answered the phone, preparing for the rant he was about to hear.

On the other end, Bucky sighed heavily.

"Everything?"

Sam kept his chuckle in as he poured the freshly cooked spaghetti on a plate.

"That's a new one." He rolled his eyes, "Is he still calling you or something?"

"Yeah, and... God, I think I might take him up on his offer."

Although his friend's tone was extremely off-putting, Sam knew him too well and was certain that Bucky wasn't being serious. He was just saying it to be dramatic because he felt trapped. Still, he needed to be reminded that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Wilson placed the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could take his meal to the table which was a few steps away from the actual kitchen zone.

"No, you won't." Sam reminded him.

"I might!"

Bucky didn't sound honest, but he sounded desperate. He had broken up with the world's biggest, most monumental jerk a hundred times before, yet for various financial and emotional reasons, Bucky had also returned to the man too many times. Sam knew there was an emotional bond, a toxic one, but never asked to what extent, he just made sure Bucky didn't fall back into his webs. Recently, though, it seemed as if he had come to his senses; hadn't picked up the phone when the devil's name came up on his screen for weeks, didn't even mention the master manipulator in a long time.

Sam sat at the small table and put his phone on speaker, next to his food.

"You can't just go back for his money, man."

"Well, I can't keep crashing at my parents’ house, either." Barnes replied with more anguish than Sam had expected.

He sounded like he was fed up with the whole living situation. Although the Barnes weren't necessarily bad, they were inherently overwhelming and controlling people with whom Bucky had already spent eighteen miserable years; Sam understood how downright exhausting it must be to go back to them for help, and he understood why he hated it there. He probably had just gotten into an argument, but Sam still felt empathy towards his poor friend, because Sam's parents were the nicest people on earth- sure, they pried and judged from time to time, but only the normal parental amount. He couldn't imagine growing up in the Barnes' house.

So instead of spurring out laments and empathic hums, he focused on finding Bucky a solution, reminding him there was a way out of the mansion-trap.

"What about that job?"

"I didn't get it." There was a hearable stop, followed by a groan, "I don't know what else to do, I don't know how much longer I can stay here!"

As he worked his brain, Sam shoved a forkfull of spaghetti into his mouth, using the time he was chewing to concoct a quick solution. His friend just needed some caring aid, and Sam was good with home finances, he's good at being responsible and setting down instructions. He's a college professor after all, so giving orders and helping people in confusing times was wired into his bones.

He swallowed before speaking, "Tell you what, why don't you come over and we'll figure something out?"

-

Sam was just finished doing his single dish in his single apartment when Bucky got there. He opened the door and found the resemblance of a lost puppy.

"Thank you."

The host ushered him inside, and while Bucky closed the door behind him, Sam returned to the kitchen to finish putting everything away.

"Don't thank me yet. We need to come up with a plan." He turned to him with a mildly disappointing glance, for he was expecting a disappointing answer, "Just to be clear: no savings?"

"Nope." Bucky popped his 'p' with exaggerated defeat.

"Remind me to call you an idiot later."

"Will do." He nodded.

While Sam put away the now clean pan on the bottom counter, James found himself shame-walking to the table. He sat down, extended his arms over the furniture and let his head drop with self-pity.

"What about your folks, are they really not willing to help out?" Sam tried.

"They won't give me a single penny."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

As soon as Wilson headed towards his friend, he noticed Bucky was waiting for him to be able to stay one hundred percent attentive. He was fidgeting with his fingers and bouncing his leg up and down, looking way too nervous for being around Sam, his best friend whom he trusted more than anyone. So, Sam got the severity of the issue and sat down on the table with him.

"Listen..." Bucky began, although he missed Sam's eye contact on purpose, "I was thinking... and I know that you've already supported me enough, but maybe... you could, uh... Lend me some money?" Suddenly, his face contorted in anguish as he was clearly embarrassed to even ask; before Sam could respond, he started rambling, "Just to get my own place, and I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I get some stability."

Sam tilted his head with sympathy.

"Of course I can lend you some money. But it's still a risky shot, dude."

Seeing him shrug, Sam noticed the evident sadness and surrender in James' face, and Sam wondered if it had been the devil ex or the Barnes who had sucked the hope out of him.

"It's all I got. I can't stand my parents any longer."

Sam nodded, and they fell into some silence. The discomfort coming from Bucky's end of the table was palpable, so Sam attempted to ease some of the tension.

"You can always just leave the country and go live with your sister." He joked.

The way Bucky looked at him with a small smile, Sam could read the gratefulness in his eyes.

"Nah, I could never leave you." Barnes taunted back, "You'd crumble."

"Yeah, that's it." Sam looked away with lifted, disbelieving eyebrows, "Definitely not the other way around."

He got a chuckle out of his best friend, and in comparison to the glim aura that had been surrounding him the last minutes, it was a relieving sound

" 'sides, she wouldn't get off my back either." Bucky added, "Rebecca's not an option."

Once again, silence dropped on them, only this time it was a pensive one. It didn't take long for Sam to have the best idea he'd had yet.

"Drink?" he offered.

"Please."

-

"I'm telling you, I can't seem to do anything right." Bucky admitted in between sips of wine, "The more I try to fix my shit, the more I mess it up, and that's Brock's cue to jump right back into the picture and offer an easy way out."

"You can't let him control you." His friend reminded him, "You're better than that."

Bucky had heard that speech a hundred times, and a hundred times he had lowered his head with shameful agreement, like a toddler being reprimanded and responding with the generic You're right, I'll do better. However, this time, Barnes was honest. Too honest, for Sam's taste, actually. Staring into nothingness as if illuminated by some divine realization of disappointment, he clacked his tongue.

"See, I don't know that I am."

Sam, on his part, was having none of that.

"Yes, you are. You've just made some very questionable choices." He slurred, and only then did Bucky realize how drunk his friend had gotten over the past hour, "And you wanna know why?"

With the last question went a very unpreoccupied hand gesture, employing the hand which held the glass of red wine like he'd forgotten the wine was even there, and therefore almost spilling it all over his carpet.

Bucky cringed and reached for the now turned dangerous beverage.

"I think that's enough wine for you." He laughed, trying to pry the glass away.

"Because you never listen to me!" Sam ignored him, which was Bucky's cue to effectively grab it and leave it on the coffee table, "I told you not to let him pay for stuff in the first place. Told you if he owns everything you share, he owns you."

The words, Bucky remembered from many times prior. The harsh tone, though, was relatively new.

"It just sort of happened." He shrugged, "I lost my job and suddenly..."

As Bucky lost his trail, Sam filled in with amusement, "You became a housewife from, like, the 1950's."

Barnes smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood, and escape the current lecture he was receiving, "Why is that bad?"

Unfortunately for him, Sam was not playing along.

"Because you can't hand them your independence. Not to your parents, not to Brock Fucking Rumlow, not to anyone. You know what's worth more than money?"

"Let me guess, my freedom?"

"Your dignity." Sam laid out the words with much more seriousness any drunk man should be able to convey.

Silence followed the rough declaration, and Bucky sat back. He pursed his lips at the ground, feeling even more judged in that apartment than in his parents' house. At least, they nagged about things that were insignificant to him, but what Sam had just dropped was a truth-bomb that resonated with his deepest concerns.

"That hurt." He admitted.

He wasn't upset, and even less with Sam. This was what he needed to hear, after all, and he could always trust Sam to be responsible and hones, but that didn't mean he would sleep on that sentence until he made some real changes in his life.

"It's just the truth." Sam grinned with somewhat lament as he reached for more wine.

-

The day of.

Sam woke up the next morning with the smell of fresh breakfast, and a hangover. When he managed to get on his feet, he walked down to the living room, where he found Bucky preparing something in the kitchen. Last night's events came back to him at the sight of his face: his cry for help, one late night talk and lots of wine. That's pretty much all that came to mind, which made him wonder what his drunk persona had put Bucky through.

"Morning, pal!" the voice made him jump a bit.

Bucky seemed cheery, which meant that he'd woken up hangover-free, and that drunk Sam hadn't been a pain in his ass. Sam felt he could relax.

"Did I really pass out on red wine in my own couch?" he groaned, scratching the back of his head.

Walking closer, he recognized what Bucky was preparing as french toasts, and his rumbling stomach felt grateful.

"Like a grandpa." Bucky confirmed with a mocking tone.

"Jesus Christ." Sam sighed.

"Don't let your dad hear you say the Lord's name in vain."

The warning reminded Sam of Bucky's parental situation. Bucky was one of Sam’s few friends who knew Sam's parents, and they'd gotten along many times, whereas Sam had never even met the Barnes. He knew Rebecca, but that was about it, and he figured they must be real characters if Bucky kept them away from him.

Sam let his body fall flat onto the couch, and covered his eyes with his arm rather dramatically, "I'm slowly spiraling down into a mediocre professor's life."

"You're not a mediocre professor and you don't have a mediocre life." Bucky denied him the right to self-loathe.

"I disagree. Your problems are the highlight of my week."

"Stop moaning and eat up."

As Sam raised his arm to peak, he found a plate of french toasts and a cup of orange juice being offered to him.

He gave Bucky a look of ultimate gratefulness as he mumbled a thank you and received the food.

Suddenly he appreciated more than ever that his friend was good at cooking, even though it probably came from a tragic backstory like his many childhood maids taught him in order to replace the absence of his parents or something.

"Least I could do." Bucky reckoned, meaning the fact that Sam had welcomed him into his home and offered to help him with his financial situation, "This, and dragging you to bed last night."

Sam visibly cringed before taking a big bite, "Did I say really dumb stuff?"

Bucky reflected on that idea for a hot second. Sam had, as a matter of fact, spilled out some truths, but Bucky didn't want to embarrass him, so he simply let it go.

He chuckled instead, "Nah, just the usual stupidity."

On his way to prepare some coffee, he checked his phone and noticed he'd received a text: we need to talk.

-

He knew what this was about. Which was the reason why he told his parents to meet him for lunch, some place they would approve of, after he'd had time to tidy up and borrow some of Sam's clothes. All just to minimize the judgement he was about to endure.

As soon as he sat down on the restaurant table, Barnes father hit him with that familiar severity.

"Where did you spend the night?"

"A hotel room." Bucky replied.

"You can't afford one."

"And I have you to thank for that." The tone quickly shifted to one of mutual accusations, "You're the one who cancelled all my cards."

"James." His mother joined the conversation in an attempt to get Bucky to lower said tone.

"It’s fine. I'm gonna crash at a friend's house.” Bucky directed the eased words to his mother, "Until I get on my own feet- which I will."

"A friend?" the dad interrupted, "Is that what you're doing now to pay for a roof over your head?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows, unamused, "Are you calling me a whore?"

"James, your father and I are worried." The woman reached over the table for her son's hands, "We want you to get yourself out of this... low spot. And last night, you proved your immaturity to us by throwing a tantrum and running away."

"Wasn't a tantrum." James retrieved his hands from his mother's grasp, "Look, if you're not going to help me out financially, then I see no reason to indulge your criticism. Otherwise it's just free abuse."

The older man rolled his eyes, "Always the drama king."

A cloud of silence fell upon the three people, thankfully soon joined by a waitress who took their orders. After they all delivered their monotone words and handed the lady their menus, Barnes father went back to the same topic.

"So, who's paying for your stuff?"

Bucky sat back on his chair, "Oh, we're still on that."

"Just wanna know how much I owe the poor soul. You keep forcing your financial situation on people, you're gonna run out of friends."

Eventually, James found himself in a tight spot. Whatever answer he gave his father, the man wouldn't be satisfied. His own son begging for money was beyond simple disappointment. The only time George Barnes had approved of Bucky depending on someone was when Brock Rumlow owned his life, because Brock was a family friend and a fine young man. Naturally, an opportunity popped into Bucky's head.

"Well, he's not a friend." He announced, earning attentive looks from both his parents, "He's, uh... we're a couple. He's not lending me money, we're sort of... living together."

Something in their eyes told Bucky they weren't buying it.

"Since when?" the mother asked.

"It's been sporadic. But we're stable."

George Barnes narrowed his eyes, "I take it it's not Rumlow."

"No, I told you, that's over." Bucky shook his head.

"Then I wanna meet this guy."

"Oh, invite him over to Nana's." The woman clapped her hands together.

The simple thought of the upcoming family vacation made him lose his appetite. Every year during spring break, the Barnes would get together for some quality time at their grandparents’ lake house. Bucky figured that this year, he probably would spend one or two weeks there before he could manage an excuse to leave. That was before he made up a fictional boyfriend, though, and the biggest problem was he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring.

"He has plans for the break." He lied.

Winnifred gave him a look that yelled incomprehension, as if she was incapable of fathoming the idea of someone not wanting to join their plans. "He can cancel them, he'll have more fun at the lake house anyways!"

"It's just that-"

"He'd love it.” Her voice began doing that thing where she sounded like she was genuinely begging, instead of simply manipulating, “And maybe you two could win Nana's hunt this year."

Now that caught Bucky’s attention. That actually made him reconsider everything. The Barnes had some very odd traditions, some Bucky loved and some he despised; but there was one in particular he had very mixed sentiments about, and which now presented itself like lifeboat.

"Right. The hunt." He trailed off, contemplating the possibility of participating in the godforsaken annual hunt.

"So what's he do?" his father’s words snapped him back.

"Huh?"

"Your boyfriend. What does he do?"

Bucky swallowed hard. In a moment of complete panic, his blank mind went to the easiest way out: the person who had actually offered his house to him for the night. Sam’s occupation was the only thing that popped into his head.

"He's a... professor.” He blurted out without much thought, “University."

"That's lovely." His mother approved.

Shit. It only then occurred to him that he was effectively making up a boyfriend, job and all, which meant he certainly couldn’t get away from it now. And it would only get worse as he dug into his lie deeper and deeper.

"What do I call him?" the older man asked.

Once again, Bucky found himself gulping.

-

"You told them what?!" Sam exclaimed.

Bucky sat with his head down in shame, while Sam paced around his own apartment, furiously.

"I'm sorry." Barnes said truthfully.

"You could've dragged anyone along with your dumb plans.” Sam ignored him and continued scolding him. “Why me?"

The appellee sighed, "It was an ambush, Sam, you should've seen it."

"I don't care!"

"They were asking me all these questions, it felt like a fucking quizz!” Bucky’s lamenting state turned much more hectic as he tried to explain his actions, “I panicked, I don't know, it just came out."

A big breath of disappointment shook Sam’s chest. Of course, he tried to understand Bucky when it came to his family. He did his best. But this was too much, for now that pressure had been transported to Sam. The weight relied on Sam’s shoulders as a whole. Still, he figured there was no way out of the hole Bucky had dug for the both of us. If the Barnes thought Sam was their son’s boyfriend, then that’s what he was. At least, until Bucky found an exit for both of them.

Reflecting on how this would be the last favor he would ever do for his friend, and at the same time acknowledging that was just a lie he told himself, Sam sat next to Bucky, who seemed expectant of more judgement. Much to his surprise, Sam’s words weren’t harsh.

"I take it they wanna meet the boyfriend." He said, a lot more nonchalantly than either of them expected.

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes, "Shit, are you serious? Would you do that for me?"

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time I get you out of trouble." Sam ran a hand down his face.

"Sam, you’re-“

"The best, I know.” Wilson glanced up at the ceiling for strength, laying back on his couch, “So when do we have to put on a show?"

There was a brief silence, only interrupted by the sound of Bucky’s fingernails scratching the back of his head, which dropped another wave of tension upon the pair.

"That's the thing." Bucky cringed.

"What's the thing?"

"You know my family's lake house?" he tempted.

"No. No, no, no!” Sam found himself standing up at the mere thought of what he knew he was being asked, “I am not going to the middle of rich nowhere with you and your folks."

"It would only be a week.” Bucky raised his voice with a plea, earning a look of disbelief from Sam who felt like a week was not worthy of being introduced by the word ‘only’, “But, with a bunch of family members."

Samuel shook his head, clear disbelief plastered on his features.

"You don't realize how insane you sound right now."

"Hear me out, this is a good thing. Just... listen.” Bucky raised his hands in defense, “You know how my grandfather left his fortune to Nana?”

Doing his absolute best to stay open-minded, Sam nodded. Perhaps Bucky was headed somewhere with his explanation.

“Well, she has this... odd way of getting rid of it."

"The hell you talking about?" Sam frowned, growing inpatient.

"I never told you ‘cause it made me sound even more of a trust fund baby."

"Which you are."

"Point taken.” Bucky tilted his head with acceptance before he continued, “But this is good for both of us. She hates giving out her money, but she has no use for it, so she... makes it into a game every year."

Sam remained quiet, becoming more and more upset because he started getting an idea of what this was about: money and his family’s eccentric behaviors. And of course, Bucky meant to bring Sam into both of those things.

"I hate your family."

Bucky couldn’t hold back a tiny smirk, "You won't when you find out how much the prize is."

Suddenly, Sam found himself considering the offer. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm listening." He said, unprepared for the number he was about to hear.

"Four million dollars.” Bucky laid out like he was pitching him a job offer, which, in some twisted way, it was, “We split it, I can get back on my own feet, gain my independence... and you get two millions for being such a good friend."

The amount of money was too much for a family game. The idea sounded too ridiculous for any normal family. But then again, these were the Barnes. Therefore, while Sam was having a hard time processing the information, he blinked fast, maintaining eye contact with Bucky, almost as if waiting for his friend to break character and reveal that this was all a joke.

"Two million dollars?" Sam confirmed.

"Two million each." Bucky nodded, expectant.

Sam had to sit back down, but not next to Bucky this time. He sat on the coffee table, still digesting it. The prize was more than what he made in a year. And it really seemed like this was Bucky’s best solution to all his problems.

"And it's a game?" Sam asked with that same cautious tone.

"Yeah, it's a... treasure hunt.” Barnes shrugged, “With, like, challenges and stuff. She cooks up the entire thing in her twisted little mind."

Sam nodded, at nothing really, but just as a manner of expressing that he had processed everything properly.

"But we'd have to pretend for a full week and actually win the thing."

"Nana loves me, 've always been her favorite. You butter her up, she'll give us the cheats. Make it easy for us."

The man nodded again, this time with purpose, "Okay."

"Okay?" Bucky raised his eyebrows with hope.

"Okay." Sam raised his voice before he could regret the choice, "Let's get this prize."

[kat-hawke]

Reimposition

 (Follow [Legacy], runs in conjunction with [Like So Many Grains of Sand] & [Defibrillation])

Suspended in the nothingness, a cold burn raged from within, feeling as if she was being torn apart from the inside out. The screams of agony were drowned out by the white noise that rang in the ears, the note climbing higher and higher as the intensity of the pain grew. Building up, it felt as if it would finally end, the pressure of the vacuum in her core threatening to burst until it all suddenly vanished, and the palms of her hands were planted against the floor of a carriage.

Gasping for air Kat fell back into the cushioned seat and against the wall, a hand resting on her throat as she hastily glanced around. For once, she was alone in the speeding vehicle, no slamming of a cane or cryptic words from the mouth of a ghost. Instead, a pocket watch had been left on the seat where Charles had always appeared, and once her thoughts cleared enough to move, Kat didn’t hesitate to snatch up the timepiece.

Less than a minute remained until time ran out, thirty seconds. As the second hand ticked backward, she looked towards the still shifting, the non-euclidean world beyond the carriage window. A shaky exhale and the feeling of a burden lifted. She could finally escape this purgatory, move on to whatever afterlife awaited. For a moment, her mind lingered on those she’d leave behind and how she failed them, but eyes peeled back to the face of the watch.

The second hand neared the end, ticking from the last five seconds. Three, two, one...

The hand froze in place, the timepiece stopped.

“No...” Kat breathed out.

Muscles in her face twitched as her anger began to boil, the grip on the watch tightening as she shook it and tapped it against the palm. “No!” She shouted, vigorously shaking the timepiece now as she felt cheated.

“No! It’s not fair!” Her voice cracked, and the watch was slammed into the floorboards, shattering into several pieces. The sole of her boot crushed what remained as rage clouded her vision, the tears of anger and sorrow welling along the bottom eyelid.

Elbows propped on the knees as she threw her head forward, fingers collecting in the mess of raven hair as she sobbed in anger. Contemplating if this was, in fact, her afterlife and not a purgatory, sentenced to relive her mistakes, betrayals, and second guess for an eternity. It wasn’t until the carriage came to its abrupt halt that her attention returned to her surroundings.

The world outside was breaking apart, into specs of white dust, floating upward into the beyond as if caught in a breeze. Curious, Kat stepped out of the carriage, watching the sight across the inverted city in awe, before she realized it was getting closer at an alarming rate.

Boots dug into the cobblestones as she began to flee, but the effort was in vain. Within seconds the street and buildings around her began to peel away in flakes. Panicking, she reached out for something, anything, but instead found her hand and arm disintegrating in the same manner. In the blink of an eye, the entire limb was gone, and soon after, the rest of her body followed, her scream of fear echoing out into the empty white space.

“We had a deal.” A voice similar to her own, and familiar, called out from the unknown. “And it’s time you’ve held up your end.”

“That’s rich, seeing as how you’ve failed to hold up yours,” Kat responded in what felt telepathic. Without a physical form, she couldn’t tell if she was looking around the blank space or if it moved around her.

The mirrored voice began to laugh menacingly as it took form. The floating black shadow slipping into view, it’s dark violet eyes set on Kat as a sharp finger wagged in the air. “My end was to prevent you from dying, which you didn’t make easy over the years.”

“Looks like you’ve failed. Deals off.”

“Ah, hardly.” The shadow waved off. “Technically, you mortals are so fragile from the inside out. Alive, but only just.” Two of its sharp fingers pinched the air, leaving only a hair of space between them as it’s legless body floated closer. “The deal was alive, never said anything about conscious.”

“And you allowed the corruption of an Old God to seed and run rampant? As far as I’m concerned, we’re done.”

“That was your own doing!” The shadow spat out as it quickly closed the distance, it’s faceless form inches from Kat. “I warned you not to play in that part of the void, yet you poked and prodded, opened the door, and let the Old one into your mind. Don’t blame me for that, I may be timeless, but I’m not that strong. Or at least I would be had you upheld your end of the bargain. You never did tell the Void Priest why you kept her around.”

“You know how much I fucking hate sand... “Another familiar voice called out from nowhere, both Kat and the shadowy being glancing upward to try and place it.

“Riley?” Kat questioned under her breath. “No. No, that can’t be right. She’s been gone for months...”

“Another lost cause.” The shadow chimed in. “I’m tired of being cheated out of what is owed and subjected to the menagerie of weak-willed mortals you coil around your fingers.”

The empty space shifted in the blink of an eye and turned into a harrowingly familiar sight. The Freehold Arena. In the change, Kat found herself in a physical form once more, in the thin leather outfit she had been forced to wear at the time. Looking downward, she discovered her folding sword in one hand.

“There won’t be an Admiral to save you from the ring this time. Pity, that.” The being taunted as the rolling cloud of its form shifted, donning a mirror image of the Director, the body and attire pitch black and eyes remaining the deep violet hue. Its own weapon lifted, pointing at Kat from across the ring as it slowly circled.

“You...” Kat spoke slowly as she began piecing things together. “You think you can take my form, my body, and ascend yourself on your own.”

The dark mirrored image shrugged one shoulder as the circling came to an end. “I believe it was you who said so yourself; trust others takes too much time, easier and more efficient to do it yourself. If you’re not going to respect our deal...” Turning Kat’s own words against her, the shadow rushed across the arena.

In the split second of judgment, Kat braced herself and the swords locked together, the sound of steel on steel piercing the air as she stared down the image of herself over the blades. Both exerted force, near equally matched as either refused to falter.

The sky above twisted and shifted without warning, the clouded sky vanishing and an inverted woodland replacing the once blue sky. The forest was akin to the conscious space of Alyssa’s blade. Both Kat and the shadow were distracted by the sudden change, looking upward in the moment of confusion.

Her adversary took advantage, kicking her leg out from beneath her and bringing the sword around. Leaning back, Kat narrowly dodged the attack, the razor edge of the blade making the briefest of contact with her cheek, drawing a small amount of blood.

Rolling backward, Kat sprung to her feet and parried a second attack, taking the window of opportunity to counter, slicing the jet black arm by a hair. Pushing back the shadowy being unleashed a relentless onslaught of hasty attacks. With only the one weapon, Kat was forced to time her defenses, the steel colliding in a few block blows as she maneuvered backward, pivoting on a leg to dodge the other attacks.

Their dance of blades seemed endless; one after another, they pressed each other. Scrapes and nicks of the blades across their bodies and taunts and sharp words were slung between blows. The ground within the arena began to crack with small fissures, glowing both dark and bright from beneath the earth.

Another spark-throwing parry overhead and everything froze, neither could move, or look around. The silence was overwhelming before the ground trembled uncontrollably, and the whisper of Riley’s voice sounded again.

“Kat, I don’t have a lot of time, so I need you to hear me in there, alright? You have to survive this. You have to come back. I don’t want to drink alone for the rest of my miserable life, so I’m going to need you to survive like you always fucking do. I lo— Lady, get off me!”

Time resumed, and the inverted woodland above blinked out of existence. Kat’s arm continued in the follow-through, circling around before forcefully kicking the shadowy being away to create some distance.

“Riley?!” Kat called out, glancing around in confusion.

“Nobody here, but you and I.” The dark mirror image answered, rushing Kat again.

Stepping to the side, she avoided the attempt at impalement, raising her own weapon to slash upward from the bottom. Her attack failing as the earth shook and fissures grew again and sent them both staggering to the side, hands scratching at the ground as she fought to stay standing.

“She’s crashing again!” Another unknown voice shouted from nowhere.

As the tremor ended, it was Kat that rushed her mirror image this time, forgoing an attempt at impaling and using her momentum to slash horizontally. Another failed attack as the being parried, staggering Kat and brining its sword overhead.

With her free hand, Kat caught the incoming blow by the being’s wrist, following through by pulling the arm down and across, elbow to elbow she pushing up from the ground and rolled over the being’s back. Tucking the sword against her chest in the movement, Kat utilized the momentum to land a mighty swing, her arm extending as the roll concluded and the blade making contact with the mirror image’s midsection.

As the sword pierced the body and cleaved it into two, the shadowy creature dissipated into the original cloudy form again, screeching in pain.

“Cranial swelling will never go down at this rate.” The unknown voice spoke, from nowhere, over the pained wails of the creature.

The Freehold arena began to crumble and break as chunks of the earth floated toward the sky or collapsed into the unknown depths below, the dark and light glow flashing erratically from each fissure.

“You can’t kill me!” The creature of shadows cried out as it retreated and vanished from view. “I will get what is owed.”

Ignoring the vocal threat, Kat dropped her weapon and moved out of the way of flying chunks of earth. Panicked again, she searched for an exit but found nothing. The ground beneath her boot gave out mid-step as another fissure opened up, nearly swallowing her whole. Fingers clawed into the dirt as she scrambled to pull herself free until loose earth slammed into the side of her skull, and her frantic hold on the ground was broken.

“I’m sorry...” Riley’s voice echoed quietly amidst the chaos as Kat tumbled into the unknown depths. 

[ @alyssa-ward​, @blue-eyedraven​ ] [ Alluding/brief mentions: @saelkath-alzarah​, @preyontheweak​ ]

( [Chapter I] [Chapter II] [Chapter III] ) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V] [pt.VI] [pt.VII] [pt.VIII] )

[clericbyers]

will and el are probably gonna meet up with the rest of the kids in the upside down. like they accidentally stumble into eachother. maybe neither group knows why they’re stuck, maybe will and el do, etc. either way, it’ll be the first time will and mike have seen eachother in a while. mike, immediately when he sees will although he was cursing violently not even a minute before, gets all soft and 🥺 and wills all 🥺 too and they just hug with whispered “i missed you” and “together, right?”

omg mike and will reunion in the upside down...you wound me anon but I love the idea.

“Ah fuck,” curses Mike for at least the tenth time in the past five minutes. Lucas pats his arm in a useless gesture of comfort. “Literally fuck this shit; fuck Hawkins, fuck the Upside Down, fuck everything! I cannot wait to get the hell out of this town.”

A branch crunches and the group quickly huddles together. “Nice going, Wheeler,” starts Max with a roll of the eyes. “Attract the attention of the monster why don’t you.”

Mike shoots her a dirty glare that makes Lucas punch his arm right where the boy was previously soothing him. Steve motions for the two to quit their antics and raises his nail bat as he steps toward the sound. Mike watches carefully and turns to search for a random weapon he can use since Steve has the bat. He passed off the gun to Nancy, who is still at the border with Robin and Dustin, and Mike lost his LARPing sword early on in the trek, leaving Steve, Lucas, Mike, and Max in the Upside Down proper pretty defenseless aside from Steve’s bat.

The crunching noise increases in volume and Steve flexes his fingers on the bat, ready to swing when the time calls for it. A possessed little rabbit bursts through the bushes and Steve is wacking it the ground before it gets the chance to do much else. Mike feels bile in his throat seeing the nails slicing through fluffy fur and solid bone. Blood oozes from the puncture and beady black eyes stare up into nothingness as death takes another soul.

“Fuck,” whispers Steve as he kicks the bunny away. “Didn’t think innocent animals would be possessed, too. Why are we the lucky ones who escaped possession?”

“I don’t wish to know.” Lucas raises his hands in surrender. “I just want out to get back to the damn border.”

“We have to keep going,” Mike retorts. “We can’t ignore this monster and let it take over Hawkins permanently, let alone the world. I hate this shit as much as you but we have a duty now.”

A mosquito buzzes by and pricks Mike on his neck. He spews out a bunch of curses as he smacks the bite and rants about his intense hatred of the Upside Down. Max raises her eyebrows at some of his choice words, but she doesn’t get to comment on them when another crunch takes to the air. No one has the time to prepare when two human-like figures race toward them. Mike stares for a moment, finding the silhouettes oddly familiar and then it strikes him.

“Will?” he blurts out, dropping his hand as he takes a step forward. This can’t be real; Will and El were in Maine, far away from all this Upside Down mess. Yet, they look as real as anything could be in this dimension.

“Mike!” calls Will with a wide grin on his lips. Mike is stunned into silence as he watches Will approach but when the distance is small enough, he reaches out and pulls Will into a tight hug.

“Will,” he breathes against the other boy’s neck, tucked in to hold him closer and never let go. “God, I missed you so much.”

Will laughs. “I missed you, too, Mike.”

Mike just nods. He squeezes his shut so he doesn’t have to open them and possibly lose this reunion if it ends being a heartwrenching hallucination. “What are you doing here; I thought you were safe.”

“I was, and I still am,” the brunette pulls from the hug but keeps his arms wrapped around Mike. “I just...El and I ended up here a few days back. El is projecting right now via her Void; we found a way to make her powers work when in the Upside Down and for me to, well, see her and make her present.”

“Make her present?” Mike scowls but doesn’t want to spend time thinking about that when he’s got Will in the flesh right here in his arms. “I’m just glad you’re alive then. And that you found me. Us! Us, that you found us.”

Will shakes his head with a smile and presses his forehead to Mike’s. “I’ll always find you, Mike. Crazy together, right?”

Mike blinks a few times and can feel all his frustrations and anger crumble away from the simple statement. Remember you’re not alone. Crazy together. The Upside Down could drive him insane all it wanted, the monsters could chase him to the ends of the Earth, but as long as he had Will at his side, he could make it. He could survive. He could live.

“Yeah,” Mike closes his eyes and lets Will’s warm breath ghost over his freckled cheeks. “Together.”

[talpup]

Chaos: 43

Summary: The day Aizawa Shouta betrayed his Love was the day the Daimon lost everything that mattered in his life. Now, with her awake from her slumber and memory wiped, he has another chance at having her and being happy. There’s only the small problem of heaven wanting his Love dead, and hell wanting control of her. And her promise to protect and help another. Oh! And her remembering what he did.

But Shouta has waited so long to have her back. Has planned and taken measures to see his Love protected. He won’t loose her this time. He’ll do anything to keep her safe, and stop her from remembering his betrayal. Cost and consequences be damned.

Though it really is a shame that the cost just might bring about Chaos.

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of violence, sex, questionable con, and non-con (though we’re thankfully done with that), and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155333/chapters/55898098

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a great big THANK YOU to those who have left comments or re-blogged.  They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship, and help brainstorming.  Your thoughts and our chats mean a lot.

43.1

Shouta's blade swiped at the winged humanoid in front of Reyanna. Damn.  How had the thing moved so fast?  It was almost as if the Nenu had been in both places at once for an instant.  No flint could travel that fast.  Even if it was a fraction of a nanosecond, it still took time to disappear and reappear.  And that time left the traveler defenseless, open to attack.  If their enemy had no such weakness, he would be able to flint in as close as he liked, and kill them before they even realized he had traveled.

Shouta sneered, pushing Reyanna back and stepping in front of her. “Damn children of Chaos.  Bending order.  Twisting nature to your will.  It’s no wonder you’re thought of as abominations.”

The Nenu tisked at him.  “Careful, fallen Seraphim.  That’s your Bonded your talking about.”

Shouta snarled and swung his weapon.  This time the blade met flesh, cutting the Nenu.

The Nenu jerked back, hissing at the cutting sting caused by the Daimon’s blade. The wound had actually hurt.  More than that, the bloody slice had taken longer to heal.

That’s right.  How could he have been so foolish as to forget?  The Daimon’s bond with Reyanna would grant him aspects of Reyanna’s power, and do the same for her.  Even if his Sister hadn’t been a child of the four realms, she would've have ties to heaven and hell thanks to her Lover.  Her lineage and connections were chaotic, all be it in an ordered sort of way.

The Nenu scowled. He hated ordered chaos more than order itself.

“Don’t mock us.”  Shouta gritted.

Their Bond was broken.  Anyone could see that.  But more than that, Reyanna was no Third.  She might've been different.  Special.  And now that she was no longer singular there were questions that needed to be answered about her and Todoroki’s differences, as true born nephilim's. But he knew her better than he knew himself.  Reyanna wasn’t a Third.  He would’ve know if she were.

The Nenu chucked.

Only stupid children of God’s order thought that something as deeply seeded and all encompassing as a Bond could possibly be broken.  Just because there was no visual evidence of a complete and filled Vim ring didn’t negate the binding words, or power that was called upon to bind a couple as one.

Bonds were more than an exchange of words and rings filled with a portion of a lovers life force. They were permanent ties.  A bind that was forged in hottest, truest, most feared thing in all the cosmos.  Consuming love.

It couldn’t be undone.  Or taken down to its parts like a forged weapon.  A Bond was more than forever.  It marked something even deeper than a beings soul.  It was said that bonded lovers could find each other even in the nothingness of true death.

The Nenu bared his teeth at Shouta. He had to separate the Daimon from Reyanna.  The power of their Bond was stronger the closer they were together.  That was the reason for the Vim rings.  To make up for the loss of power bonded lovers experienced when they were apart.

Enji took on one of the beasts.  Kai and Shigaraki another.  While Hawks and Hizashi faced the third.

“At little help, Dabi.”  Shigaraki called.

Though the Demon hated asking the other for assistance, they needed it. As well as Kai fought with a single hand, the Daimon General was clearly lacking the finesse he had before he lost his left hand.  Not that Shigaraki was willing to give it back.

“I can’t you idiot!  These two already gave me conflicting orders.” Dabi looked between Shouta and Reyanna grateful for those orders.

People thought hell was the worst place there was.  And while that might've been true for the average human, it wasn’t so for anyone else. Oblvi was way worse than hell for one reason.  Death here would always be true for those not of this realm.

Yes, hell had its torture and endless torment; but when you died in hell you came back, soul spit back out of the ether to live again.  That was unless some angry, heartless daimon gave you a true death.  But here in Oblvi, all deaths were true, at least for outsiders.

Faced with such a terrifying possibility, Dabi would much rather stay by the two who were fighting for more than themselves and Todoroki’s task.  Call him a romantic, but he knew the power of love.  He had seen Aizawa focus instead of breaking when Kai had taunted him with Reyanna’s rape.  He had heard the stories of Reyanna fighting with the Great Rock for over half a day and killing him just because some foolish Rock Bats had set upon her wounded Love.

These two would end entire worlds for each other.  And though that love and devotion didn’t extend to him, it would shield and protect him if he stayed close enough...he hoped.

Damn. Dabi thought.  He really had come a long way.  From first thinking that Aizawa and Reyanna would be the death of him, to now thinking that they might be what kept him alive.  Though he was still certain that the two would be the death of him.  His being here was entirely their fault after all.  Sure neither had compelled him to come; but it was Reyanna who had effectively brought him in by summoning him for help with her greatest desire.

He should've known then who the woman was, and listened to Aizawa, and not messed with her.  Who the hell wanted Aizawa?  Let alone wanted the Daimon enough to have him be their greatest desire.  That alone should've been enough to tell him that the pretty Doll face was Aizawa's bonded Love.  He had simply been a fool for not seeing it.

Shouta’s quickly took in the other fighting beasts.  If Enji, Hizashi, Hawks, Kai, and Shigaraki could live to keep them distracted long enough…

“Dabi. See Anna back and through the tear.” Shouta commanded.

“What! No!”  Reyanna pulled at Shouta's arm.  “I’m not leaving you.”

She had left him broken and alone after she had remembered everything, but now she wouldn’t leave him, Shouta grumbled to himself.  At least she hadn’t said she wouldn’t leave Todoroki.

“No one’s leaving.”  The Nenu said, suddenly behind Reyanna.

The Third’s claws lashed out.

Shouta shoved Reyanna to the side, taking the cuts on his back and shoulder.

Fuck! The stung.  Shouta thought, gritting his teeth.

Shit. He hissed. The sting didn’t stop but grew, blossoming around the slow healing wounds.  The pain spread and ran through to every corner of his body.

It wasn’t a poison, his systems reaction would've told him that.  It was more like a sensory echo of the initial wound.

Blue flames hit the Nenu.  The attack did nothing but divert the Thirds attention long enough to allow Shouta to  put some distance between him and the thing.

Reyanna was back at Shouta's side in an instant.

“You’re still bleeding.”  She said, eyeing the slow closing wounds with angry horror.

“Damn it, Anna!  Go!  We don’t have time for your petulance.”  Shouta snapped.

“We don’t have time to argue.  I already told you.  I’m not leaving you!”  Reyanna barked back.

The Nenu appeared before them.  “And I said, no one’s leaving.”

This time Reyanna shoved Shouta out of the way.  Her blade swiped at the Nenu’s first slash, weapon grinding against his fingered talons.

She blocked and diverted the second strike, her blade locking with his four main claws on the third.

“You forget, little Sister, I have more than one hand.”  The Nenu said, left hand readying to strike.

“So do I.”  Reyanna gritted.

Her right hand open, lifting out toward Shouta.

Skidding and rolling to his feet, Shouta tossed his blade to her.

Reyanna caught it and plunged it up and into the Third’s armpit.

The Nenu grunted.  His swiping left arm halted and fell to his side.

Shouta's blade embedded in the Nenu, Reyanna sliced up and out in a brutal cut.

The Nenu growled.  The three other fighting beasts faltered. His eyes flicked black.

Reyanna’s upper-hand was short lived as the Nenu’s right thumb circled beneath her blade.  His four locked claws wrapped around the weapon.

The Nenu’s hand squeezed, flesh sizzling and blood pooling from his palm.  The weapon cracked in his grip.

Shouta, Dabi, and Reyanna watched in awed horror as Reyanna’s blade broke apart and crumbled.

The Nenu’s right hand opened, claws ready to strike.

“No!” Shouta ran and flinted to Reyanna’s side.

His hand wrapped around her right, pulling his blade from her grip.  Shouta spun, pulling and turning Reyanna out of the way.

“Fight me like a true child of Chaos!”  The Nenu demanded, claws coming down.

But there was no one there.  The Nenu’s talons raked through the air where Reyanna had been.  He looked to the side seeing Aizawa holding his blade and Reyanna safely behind him.

Fallen Seraphim or not, no angel or daimon could move that fast.  The damned Daimon had tapped into Reyanna’s power as a child of Chaos.

The Nenu snarled.

Two of the beasts ceased fighting and broke off toward Shouta and Reyanna.  They flinted but the Nenu was there to meet them.

Shouta and Reyanna both pushed the other out of the way, the two sent flying in opposite directions.

The two attacking beasts charged.

“Dabi!” Shouta shouted, in no position to get to Reyanna in time.

“Dabi!” Reyanna hollered, eyes on Shouta’s who had yet to make it to his feet.

Caught between them and the conflicting compel, Dabi cursed.  He was tired of being their demon dog.  He had a soul now.  He shouldn’t have to be stuck with these two homicidal, cursed lovers who could never agree what he should do. He had made one mistake.

So what if he hadn’t left when Aizawa told him to the night Reyanna had summoned him. That shouldn’t mean that he should have to pay for it for the rest of his existence.  He had just been doing his job. One would’ve thought that having made one such everlasting mistake in selling his soul fate would’ve taken pity on him.

“I’m done!”  Dabi yelled.  “I’ve had it up to here!  I’m no one’s dog!  I can’t fucking do it all!”

Temper making him want to kill everything in sight, Dabi’s hands flew out to either side.  White flames shot out, blasting the two charging beast.

The beasts writhed, bodies covered in fire.

The Nenu was forced to call the two creatures back before too much energy was expended while the pieces of him suffered and died.  Once near him, the creatures fell over and melt back into him.

The Nenu opened and closed his left hand looking at the large, new burn on his forearm.  His other hand touched around a second burn on his chest.  These wounds weren’t healing.  Why?

His eyes lifted and focused on Dabi.

“You have a soul.”  The Nenu accused.

Still fired up over his white flames and successfully meeting Aizawa and Reyanna’s impossible demand, Dabi jutted out his chin and grinned. “Yeah.  What of it?”

The Nenu snarled at the Demon.

And they had the nerve to call his kind abominations!  A demon with a soul!  Who had ever heard of such a thing?  Who would even think of it, let alone make it happen?

The Nenu turned to Reyanna.  Of course.  This was all her doing.  Everything was starting to make sense.

He had known is Sister had come to unseat him from his throne.  But what he hadn’t known was just how prepared the Bitch would be.  This whole entire thing was about him and Reyanna wanting his place.  Well he wouldn’t give it up so easily.  His weak, unknowing Sister would have to lose everything she knew for a chance at his throne.

The third beast charged at Dabi.

Gripping Sakamata and Kai’s severed hands, Shigaraki’s foot stomped the ground.

A near straight crack that was barely discernible shot towards the charging beast.  The beast halted and crumbled to dust.

Dabi spun around just in time to see the creature crumb.  He laughed nervously.

“You--” The Nenu began, black eyes flicking Shigaraki.

Dabi turned back to the Nenu.

White flames shot out of the Demon’s hands and engulfed the Third.

Dabi’s laugh became maniacal.

Careful to keep the wonder from his voice, Enji asked.  “Who the hell are these demons?”

“Just a couple of strays.  That one there is your sons uncle.”  Hawks said, gesturing to Dabi.

Enji looked over the crazy, laughing Demon his lip curling.

Shouta brushed himself off and took a step toward Reyanna.

The Nenu stepped out of the flames.

Dabi’s laughter died.

“Shit!” Dabi cursed.  He raced to the nearest body.  “Zawa!”

Shouta pushed the Demon away.

Dabi was sent flying.  He slid to a halt near Shigaraki’s feet.

“You think you can end me!”  The Nenu thundered.

The forest of trees behind them swayed and fell from the deep tremor that shook the ground.

“I am the first son of Chaos!  I own this place.”

The ground ceased shaking.

The Nenu’s eyes scanned the small gathering of adversaries.  “...and everyone in it.”

Shouta's breath caught.

The Nenu’s eyes were the same as Reyanna’s when she use her power. Spiraling galaxy's now existed in the Nenu’s deadly gaze.

Before any of them could move, three beasts broke from the Nenu again.

Shouta met one of them with his blade.  He looked about frantically for Reyanna but she and the Nenu were gone.

[candyshua]

Intertwined | Chapter Four - That’s Just How The Cookie Crumbles

Kim Mingyu was your best friend, your knight in shining armor, your crush, your everything. But sadly, you were not his.

After getting his girlfriend pregnant in his fourth year of college, the two of them moved away to America after graduation. And then, you were all alone.

Meet Yoon Jeonghan, your current best friend. An aspiring video game designer, he has been your rock for 5 years. He helped you through so much drama. You would be surprised to learn that he was madly in love with you. What happens when Mingyu comes back to Korea?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 970

Warnings: Foul language

A/N: i decided to continue this story since it got so much love!!! thank you all for supporting me <33 sorry this chapter is so short, but please tell me if you’re team mingyu or team jeonghan!!! and please please please (!!!) leave feedback, it is very much appreciated.

Jeonghan was surprised to hear a knock on his door at the ripe time of 3 in the fucking morning. It was one of those nights where he stayed up playing video games, getting a little bit lost in reality. He stumbled to the door, and smiled when he came face to face with you. Soon, that smile dropped once he saw how much of a mess you were.

“Y/N?” Jeonghan asked worriedly. Instead of saying anything, you just crashed into his arms while being a sobbing mess. Jeonghan was utterly confused, wondering what the hell happened. You stood like that for a while, just being vulnerable in his arms. After a little bit, you pulled away.

“He’s back.” You murmured.

“Who’s back?” Jeonghan questioned.

“Mingyu.”

And with that, Jeonghan felt his heart sink into his stomach. That one man was your absolute weakness, the one who could make you do anything. And it sucked, at least it did to Jeonghan, because it wasn’t him. Jeonghan wasn’t the one with that power over you, he was just your best friend, your sidekick, your platonic buddy.

He would never be Mingyu. And for a while, that was okay, because Jeonghan let himself relish in the placid fact (or so it seemed) that Mingyu was never going to come back. Maybe Jeonghan wouldn’t be drowning in unrequited love forever, maybe you would come around soon.

Alas, Jeonghan didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect your first love to come back and undo all the progress Jeonghan has made. It fucking sucked, to say the least.

It sucked because Jeonghan was madly in love with you. He knew he was in love with you ever since you first got drunk in front of him, at that company dinner so long ago. You were hiccuping, and he took you home.

During the car ride home, you put on music through your phone, singing loudly, and quite beautifully. Jeonghan noticed your particularly powerful voice, and he kind of basked in it for a little bit. That moment was nothing but pure bliss, nothing but pure love. But, it had to come to an end, just like everything in Jeonghan’s life.

You sat on Jeonghan’s couch, eyes distant and vacant. Jeonghan had wondered what went on, since you seemed quite traumatized.

“So uh...Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

You could barely look Jeonghan in the eye. You felt so fucking guilty, for some reason unbeknownst to you. You swallowed a lump in your throat and shook off any feeling of anxiety.

“It was coincidental. I saw him at a fucking cafe...And then shit went down? I don’t really know, Han. He kind of confessed to me, telling me he had loved me ever since I confessed to him.”

“What? When did you confess to him?” Jeonghan interrupted, feeling dread starting to sink into his bloodstream. He wanted nothing but to disappear into nothingness, so he wouldn’t exist at all. So he wouldn’t have to taste this bitter flavor of unrequited love.

“When I was drunk, apparently. Years ago. He’s loved me ever since then...So um, we kissed.”

“Oh.”

A thick silence hung in the air for god knows how long, the two of you waiting for the other one to speak. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t have a good reason to. Jeonghan then realized that his time was almost running out, that you weren’t going to magically fall in love with him.

“I felt guilty.” You admitted, resulting in Jeonghan’s eyes widening. He looked at you with apprehensive eyes, anticipating what you were going to say next.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked hesitantly.

“I thought of you, Han, and I just did.”

Jeonghan’s heart melted when you said those words. He didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or melancholy. He wanted to cry and laugh. Needless to say, his feelings were very juxtapositional.

“Why’d you think of me?” Jeonghan asked, wanting to coax the words he has wanted to hear for so long out of you. Please say it, Y/N. Please tell me you like me, Jeonghan thought.

“Because I think I like you.” You admitted, shutting your eyes closed in absolute embarrassment. Lucky for Jeonghan, you didn’t see the huge smile that broke out on his face. It wasn't a total victory, since Mingyu was back, but it was progress.

Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t destined to be stuck in the sticky web of unrequited love.

“Um, Y/N?” Jeonghan whispered timidly.

“Yes, Jeonghan?”

“I like you too. I have been liking you, for a very long time. So, there’s no need to be shy.”

You opened your eyes, staring directly at Jeonghan. You felt a huge tsunami of guilt crash into you. You didn’t deserve someone as angelic as Jeonghan! Jeonghan deserved someone completely faithful, not a confused woman like you.

“All I ask is that you give me some time. Nothing is definite, and I’m kind of a mess right now.” You pleaded.

Jeonghan smiled sadly, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Maybe it wasn’t unrequited love, but it sure was bad timing.

“Okay.” Jeonghan smiled, trying to hide the utter sadness threatening to tear him apart. Jeonghan didn’t know why, but he hated Mingyu.

After a little bit, Jeonghan walked you home. You had said your goodbyes, and you were about to walk into your apartment complex, until Jeonghan stopped you.

“Y/N!” He shouted. You turned around, feeling the anticipation bubble in your stomach. “I may have not been with you since the beginning, but I”ll be with you until the end. I promise.”

You had believed him wholeheartedly. You always knew you could trust Jeonghan.

He was your best friend after all. He may have not had been there in the past, but he was here now. That’s what matters, isn’t it?

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Damsel in Distress

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1658

Summary: Baz’s father made the mistake of bragging to the gods, and now Baz has to pay the price. That is, unless a golden hero comes and saves him.

Carry On Countdown day 5: Mythology

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyy I know I said I wouldn’t be doing anything for the Carry On Countdown, but I love Greek mythology, and this idea just came to my head. So, here’s another dumb greek myth AU from Theo. Enjoy! :)

———————————————-

Baz

I hate this. I fucking hate this. Which is understandable. There isn’t much enjoyable about being chained to a bloody rock.

I uselessly pull at my cuffs, but they stay in place. What I wouldn’t give for Hercules’ strength right now.

“This is stupid!” I shout back to where (I think) my family and friends are. “Are we sure this is necessary?”

“The Gods demanded it!” Dev shouts in reply.

I growl and look back out the sea. “The Gods can shove it for all I care.”

“Don’t say that! Blame your dad for bragging about how brilliant you are!”

“I blame him too!”

And I really do. Stupid arsehole bragged that I could outsmart any god. (Which is probably true. I'm brilliant.) But David, King of the Gods, was not at all pleased by that statement. So he made a completely reasonable demand of my father; chain me, his only son, to a rock so I could be eaten by a sea monster as punishment for his arrogance. Which is stupid. It’s not like I said what offended the Gods. Why do I have to get eaten?!

I guess those questions are pointless right now, since I’m already chained up.

The ground starts rumbling. Fuck, guess my time is up. I can see something coming up very, very quickly in the distance. I press myself back by instinct. Not that I can escape. I just have to stand here and wait. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, fuck, I’m going-

“Hello.”

I open my eyes, and I gasp. I must already be dead and in Elysia. Because this man has to be a gift from the heavens.

He’s perfect in every single way. Tawny skin covered in moles that looked the constellations of the sky. A beautiful thatch of curly bronze hair illuminated in the sunlight. His eyes, though plain blue, are gorgeous. The corners are crinkled up with his glowing smile. His short white chiton blows in the sea breeze, which almost makes me squeak. There’s a bag over his shoulder, along with a polished shield and strange curved sword.

“Um,” I say. “Hi.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Baz. Who are you?”

“My name is Simon.” He leans to the side, looking at my restraints. “Why are you here?”

I scoff and rattle my chains. “Same old story. My father pissed off a god, he has to pay a price. I’m the price.” I tilt my chin towards the ocean. “The sea monster is going to eat me.”

Simon frowns. It’s painfully adorable. “That’s not good. You shouldn’t pay for his mistake.”

“You’re telling me. But i’m already stuck here so,” I shrug, “guess I’m sea monster chow.”

Simon keeps frowning. He’s thinking, I can tell. I can almost see him the gears turning in his beautiful head. Whatever it is, he takes a little longer than I think he should considering my limited time. But eventually, he grins again, looking at me with bright, idea filled eyes.

“I could save you, from the monster. Would that be okay?”

My eyes go wide. What the tartarus? “Sure, if you can, I wouldn't complain. I’d very much like to live.”

Simon puffs out his broad chest. “Of course I can. I’m a hero.”

I’m about to question that smug statement, but the rumbling gets very close. Simon’s head whips back. He looks back at me. “Stay here,” he says, then runs towards the edge of the cliff where I can’t see.

“It’s not like I have much choice!” I yell.

Simon doesn’t reply. I huff and slump down, only chains holding me up. Suddenly, the entire rock starts shaking. I tense up. Fuck, here it comes. I look up, and the ocean explodes in a monumental geyser. The massive sea serpent rises up from the water. It’s taller than any building I’ve ever seen. It’s blue-green scales are beautiful, almost distracting from it’s enormous mouth filled with rows of pointed teeth. It growls, and large fins fold out from it’s head, trying to intimidate me. I want to be brave, but this thing is terrifying. I’m breathing heavily, pressed back up against the rock. The beast sniffs the air, then looks down at me, and roars so loud the ground rattles and my ears hurt. I press back even more.

“Simon!” I shout. “If you’re going to do something, I think you should damn well do it now!”

“Close your eyes!” he shouts back.

Well, I don’t know what he’s going to do, but if I’m going to die I’d rather not see it coming anyway. So I close my eyes tight. The monster roars again. I can smell it’s disgusting fish scented breath. I’m waiting to feel it’s bite on my flesh. I hear another bone shaking roar, but suddenly it dwindles into a whine. There’s a weird crumbling and cracking sound that follows. I can’t smell the monster’s breath anymore. Slowly, carefully, I crack open one eye. I gasp.

The towering sea serpent, the one that was about to eat me, is now a huge stone statue. Frozen with it’s mouth open to eat me, but no longer a threat. And there’s Simon, fucking floating above me. Well, more flying, actually. His shoes have goddamn tiny wings. He’s putting something back in his bag, something with snakes on it. I’m intrigued, but I’m not sure I want to know what the fuck that thing is.

Simon flies back down to stand in front of me. He’s smiling so hard his pretty freckled cheeks must hurt. “Told you I could save you.”

“It seems you were telling the truth,” I say, still in a slight state of shock.

“M-hm. I’m a hero.”

I chuckle. “Well, Mr. Hero, could you do me a favour and get rid of these?” I shake my chains.

Simon looks very surprised and a bit embarrassed. “Oh, right, sorry.”

He takes out his odd sword, then holds it up in front of me. I wince away instinctively. There’s a sound of metal on rock, then my arms are loose. I open my eyes. A few links from my chains still hang from the cuffs, but I'm free.

“Thank you,” I say. “For, everything.”

His golden skin flushes a beautiful shade of pink. He scratches the back of his neck and shuffles his feet. “No problem. Uh, all in a day’s work for a hero.”

Gods above, he’s adorable. And kind. And brave. And downright gorgeous. I take a step towards him. “Well, I’ve never met a hero before,” I drawl. “Are you all so courageous and devastatingly handsome?”

He turns bright, bright red like a tomato. He's so cute. “Well, uh, I-I don’t know. I’ve never met another one.”

I chuckle once more, taking another step closer. “What, you don’t all have some sort of club to compare grand quests?”

“Nah, doesn’t work like that. People only tell your stories when you’re dead, I think.”

“That’s depressing.” I tilt my head to the side. “Want to tell me about your quests then? I’m sure I wouldn’t mind some heroic tales.”

Simon’s blue eyes go wide. “Oh. Uh, sure, yeah, I’d like that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I could, um, fly us out of here. Go somewhere nicer.”

“Please do. I don’t want to spend another minute on this blasted rock.”

Simon smiles. He takes my hand, rough skin dragging on mine, and pulls me even closer. So close I can feel his hot breath. My mouth feels very dry. “Mind if I pick you up?” he asks.

I nod before even thinking. “Please do.”

Suddenly, Simon puts one arm around my back and the other under my knees. He picks me up like I weigh nothing. I yelp and instinctively grab his neck. He grins, then we fly up into the sky. I hold tighter. The ground shrinks into nothingness. Dev, Niall, and my father are mere awe struck specks.

“Wow,” I gasp. “Please don’t drop me.”

Simon chuckles and pulls me closer. “What kind of hero would I be if I dropped my damsel in distress?”

I glare at his stupid smug, beautiful face. “I am not a damsel in distress. I was an unfortunate victim of a god’s bruised ego.”

“Okay, true.” His brow adorably furrows. “Which god did your father anger anyway?”

“The king arsehole himself, David.”

Simon’s eyes go wide, but his smile doesn’t go away. “Uh, that’s weird. Because David is actually my father.”

Shit. Of course, just my luck. I hold on even tighter. “Does that mean you’re going to drop me now?”

Simon looks positively horrified. “No! No, of course not. I would never. Besides, I don’t like my father that much. He’s kind of a prick.”

“Well, that we can agree on.” An idea crosses my mind. A terrible, wonderful idea that might get us struck from the sky by a bolt of lightning. But it would be worth it.

I turn towards Simon with a smug smirk. “Say, how much do you think it would piss off your arsehole father if you kissed the man he tried to have eaten?”

Simon flushes down to his neck. He looks shocked at first. But slowly, his lips pull into a big smile. “I think he’d be really pissed. But I’d really like it.”

I wind a hand in his thick curls and pull us so we’re nose to nose. (I really hope he doesn’t lose focus and let both of us fall.) “I would too.”

He leans down and presses his mouth firmly against mine. His lips taste like the sweetest fruit. I sigh into it, tilting my head, deepening the kiss. He presses me closer to his warm body. I feel like I could melt into him.

Well, this isn't how I thought my day would turn out, but I’m certainly not complaining.

———————————————-

AN: Hope you liked that :D I changed stuff from the original Perseus and Andromeda myth for Carry On's sake, so don't jump down my throat because it's not accurate to myth plz. I know my greek myth lol I'm just adapting. So I don't know if I'll do anymore Carry On Countdown prompts, what with my big bang still a WIP, but who knows. If so I'll make this part of a series. Maybe inspiration will suddenly hit me again haha. Have a good day and good countdown everyone :)

[gaylienz]

i fucking REFUSE to believe that Draco Malfoy went on to marry a pureblood girl and have one (1) pureblood son/heir and did basically nothing with his life besides being rich with hints of longing to be something more. 

Like YES JK ROWLING it is GOOD that he and Astoria decided to raise their child in such a way that he doesn’t hate muggles or halfblood or muggleborns but COME ON GIVE ME MORE. 

Give me Draco Malfoy who was every inch the bully, every inch privileged and cruel who suddenly found out that everything he believed in was false and watched it crumble to dust around him as he fought to find it inside of himself to be a killer. And is UNABLE TO.HE CAN’T FUCKING STOMACH IT.  He spends nearly two years being terrified for his life, for his family. He fuckin weeps, loses weight, is uninterested in the things he once loved. 

YES. His fucking conscious is awakened. I say a fucking LOT is awakened. It fucking BETTER BE. Like the realization that his whole situation fucking sucks and JK ROWLING uses the word “conditioning” to describe his life up to this point. Conditioning. I’d maybe call it a bit of brain washing.   And the boy is SMART. He’s second in their year. He HATES not knowing things. And if he suddenly realized everything he’s been taught is one big LIE...then what is the TRUTH??

He’s gonna fucking find out. 

Even if it’s humiliating or mortifying or confusing (like going into muggle London and walking around and exploring) because he is no longer standing fully on power and pride. No, most of that is gone. All he has left is money and curiosity and a burning desire not to let this tiny bit of light inside himself burn out into nothingness.  

And maybe yes, JK ROWLING he DOES love his parents, they love him, its one of their few redeeming qualities. That wouldn’t stop him from being resentful, from never trusting them fully ever again, questioning everything they ever told him and will tell him. 

he does NOT want to be his father. he doesn’t want to keep the cycle going. he loves his father but, he is gonna fuckin do his best to be as FAR from him as possible.FUCK your living off the money (he’s gonna do stuff with those alchemy books you say he reads whimsically, he’s going to learn even if it isnt for the money), FUCK your long hair and pony tails and dark severe clothing looking exactly like Lucius, FUCK your perfect Slytherin, pureblood but NOT Evil wife and 1 child who looks like Draco (like Draco looked Lucius) (bc as JK Rowling said, it “ is perfectly consistent with Draco’s character that he would find it easy to shut down emotion, to compartmentalise, and to deny essential parts of himself”.) DING. DING. DING.

HE’S GAY.  DRACO MALFOY IS GAY. DRACO MALFOY IS FUCKING GAY. even if the wizarding world is super accepting of lgbtq+ people, i bet bigoted purebloods probably arent because hey, gotta carry on the name, the line, the blood. 

And he was an awful asshole not at all a good person or any kind of person u want to look up to, but a incredible character. And he deserves so much more than this. he deserves more than “some unextinguished good at the heart of Draco.” He deserved to let that good GROW, to become a fucking fire. God im so MAD

[sparkknightella]

Girlfriend or Girl that’s a Friend (pt2)

the part two no one wanted!!

warnings: love and horrible imagery (i also branched pretty far off Stan’s canon character but for a reason)

please tell me what y’all think!! or send me requests!! i’m working on some other stuff but if u think i should stop pls help me not embarrass myself

part 1

———

Stan knew he ought to go home, but going home would lead to him sitting there and hoping to hear the tap-tap-tapping of pebbles being thrown against his window. The sound of Bill confessing that he too had feelings but he never believed that Stan did. The sound of hope and new beginnings and-

Stan shook his head, shaking the thought away with it. He rode slowly and carefully back to the Barrens.

The remaining embers of the fire they made were glowing red. Stan ran around, trying to find some sticks to help get the fire going again. He made the fire bigger than it had been when he was with the Losers. He stripped off his still-damp clothes (leaving his boxers, cause who knows what’s in that water?) and slowly walked into the now freezing water. He floated on his back until he couldn’t handle the cold anymore then went sat by the fire.

Why am I so fucking stupid? Falling for my best friend, how predictable?

“Fucking stop.” he said, the first words he’d muttered in hours. But they needed to be said. His thoughts had to be stopped but he didn’t know how to stop them.

He decided to finally build the infamous dam. No matter how long it took. He began stacking rocks and logs and fitting pebbles into open cracks like corks. It took hours of dropping sizable rocks on his feet and standing proudly for five seconds before the whole thing crumbled for Stan to finally get the dam built and stable.

He wiped his brow and looked around. When had the sun come out? When had he gotten this scrape on his leg? And this one on his arm? He shrugged and slipped his clothes back on, hoping he could get home in time to shower before his parents woke up and started pestering him with questions.

•

The losers had kept their promise, no man, nor god would have been able to reach Stan at school. They moved together seamlessly. No one had seen Bill all day but no one wanted to take the chance of letting Stan run into him alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to spend the night? We’re all pretty great at distracting you.” Ben smiled and finished packing up his bag.

“I’m fine, I’ve got a history project to work on and i think that should keep me distracted enough,”

Ben nodded and as the others met up, they each asked to make sure Stan was going to be okay before forming the Shell.

•

Stan hadn’t slept in days. Every night instead of sleeping at home, he snuck out and went to the barrens, he’d practically built himself a home there. There was a lean-to shelter, a mat he’d weaved out of the sea-weed like plants that grew at the bottom of the pond, and several more dams at various points in the small creeks that led to the Barrens.

Who knew all it took to become a master architect was a heartbreak?

He planned to steal a hammer and a box of nails from their neighbor so he could build himself a more permanent home. He probably had about half an hour before his parents went to bed and he could slip out his window into the precious little world he was building himself.

He heard the telltale sound of his parents bed creaking and quietly removed the screen from his window. (He of course did not account for Bill to be riding up at this moment). He dropped to the ground, grabbed the nails and hammer from their neighbor, and got on his bike.

He rode, cutting through the sleeping towns backyards and open gates and flying over fences and using children’s slides as ramps and-

Bill was amazed. He’d never seen this Stan. The Stan who was seemingly invincible. The Stan who no one could touch. The Stan who saw no consequences. The Stan who knew the world was his.

This Stan made a sharp turn and started heading towards... the barrens?

Stan was barreling through trees, taking the path less not travelled. He whooped and called out profanities to the old gods and the new, telling them how foolish they were to think the world was theirs. He was very... not Stan.

He slowed and dismounted his bike, coaxing a flame out of the coals of the bonfire for the fifth night in a row. He pulled out the hammer and nails and set them on the one of the final remaining rocks from that night with his friends.

Bill stayed in the shadows, wondering who the hell had possessed Good Boy Stan and made him into this wild creature of the night. He watched Stan pick up a various array of sticks and logs and start hammering them together. There didn’t seem to be a plan, just nails and hammers and the occasional cry of pain cause Stan didn’t exactly have the best of aim when it came to these things.

Stan was living. He wished that he’d lost it sooner because he’d never felt so free and so happy and so himself. Creating this bubble was the only thing keeping him from crumbling into the nothingness his heart so desperately wanted him to become.

No no no, if I keep going. Maybe... Maybe I’ll forget or maybe this’ll be enough. Maybe my heart will realize that this version of life is enough.

He began repeating this aloud. “This will be enough..this will be enough...” like a mantra, waking something else up deep inside of him. A deeper longing for freedom. A longing for self assurance. A longing for not needing anyone.

Bill stepped forward, trying to hear Stan better. A branch snapped under his foot and he saw Stan’s head shoot up from over the brush Bill was watching behind.

Stan shook his head. No one knows he’s here and there’s only a select group of people who would care. He began going through the motions of building.

Bill did not realize he’d fallen asleep until he woke up, having fallen through the brush and right into the light casted by Stan’s fire. Luckily for him, Stan was in the water, humming to himself and again, looking as if the whole world was his. The whole pond seemed to be flowing into him as he seemed to be flowing into the pond.

Bill stood up and made to move back into the darkness when heard a quiet... almost mouse like “Bill?”

Stan was in a panic. The love of his life had stumbled into his most secret world. “How long have you been here?”

Bill shook his head. “N-nuh-not long. I w-wuh-was just riding my b-bike and i heard a weird buh-banging noise down here.”

Stan’s head was doing a weird mix of shaking and nodding, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. Which for the record, he could not. He didn’t know what to think or say or do.

Stan realized. This was his world. He was in charge of anything and everything and he wasn’t about to let this asshat let him feel small.

“Why didn’t you leave when you saw who was here? You broke my heart and you know you did. You saw me break and you’ve seen the lengths our friends have gone to to keep you away from me. Leave. Get out. I don’t want to see your stupid fucking mug around here again.”

Bill shook his head. “S-Stan, how was I supposed to know?” He stepped forward and reached out for Stan’s hand. “I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. I had no ch-ch-chu-”

He could feel himself spiraling. Bill knew what he had to do. But what if he hates it? What if his mind has changed? I broke his heart he said.

Bill knew he had feelings for Stan. He didn’t know that he was allowed to like that like that. But now that he did... he realized the felt like that for a while. His heart raced as he saw the water dripping from Stan’s curls. An impossible lump had formed in his throat when Stan had started yelling.

So, he made his move. He stepped forward, grabbed the back of Stan’s head and pressed their lips together.

Stan was amazed his heart didn’t burst. Bill, who always felt like this impossible thing to reach. The sun to his moon. Always in sight, always that sense of longing. But the sun and moon could never be. Stan was relieved that they weren’t the sun and moon. He kissed Bill back and he could feel that wild thing inside him being tamed by Bill’s lips.

“I dumped her.” Bill gasped for breath when they finally broke apart. “I was trying to be something I’m not, I didn’t know how to let us be an us. You do make my heart race. You make muh-my mind melt and my stuh-tomach fill with butterflies and my skin to turn all these bright bursting colors.”

Stan could feel both their hearts pounding as one as Bill tried to make sense of all the feelings thumping around inside of him.

They kissed again and the whole world felt small and insignificant in comparison to the god-sized love they felt.

•

“Billiam, if you ever hurt him again, I swear to God.” Richie threw a popper at Bill’s feet. “Thees vill be grenade? You hear zat!” he slipped into a Voice.

“Richie! Could you not throw projectiles so casually!” Stan was stomping over, ranting in Richie’s face about the dangers of those poppers.

Bill watched, unable to keep the grin from growing on his face. The old Stan was back and better than ever, but Bill knew deep down, there would always be that wild side. The side of Stan that knew what was his and had no fear in claiming it. Bill knew that that version ruled the world with him by Stan’s side.

[outdamnedspot]

Burning Light

Wrote it at three in the morning and decided to dump it here. Angsty as fuck and I cried writing the last bit. You know when you hate half of a ship but it’s undeniable how they like each other? And they just??? Crawl into your head and you can’t get rid of the feels?????!!!??

That’s when I decided to make myself miserable and invite y’all for the ride

Rika was his sun. His goddess, his warmth, the light in his eyes. She gave him life.

It was only fair she was the one to take it away from him.

If you be my star I’ll be your sky You can hide underneath me and come out at night When I turn jet black And you show off your light I live to let you shine I live to let you shine

V’s photographs are beautiful, they said. Jihyun smiled, humble and diligent, finding it amazing that people just couldn’t see what was so clear to him. Yes, his photographs are beautiful. They had to be, bathing in the light of Rika’s smile.

One cannot see without light; the world’s beauty bloomed to life under Rika’s presence and all he had to do was capture this moment. Every photograph he ever took was for Rika, because of Rika. She was the very sun, the vortex of a universe held together by the sound of her voice and she kept him orbitating endlessly around her.

People were naturally drawn to her, to her light, her joy – and they spun around her in awe, enamored. Ancient civilizations worshipped natural deities, and Jihyun felt an eerie sympathy for them for he, too, worshiped the sun.

V’s photographs are beautiful, they said, but Jumin was but the moon reflecting someone else’s light.

You, without sin, are like the sun You, even with sin, are like the sun

An apology, and a beaming thank you shortly after. Rika’s hands were always cold, no matter how hard she rubbed them. Cold hands, warm heart, they say, and they don’t know half of it. Jihyun often tried to help by taking her small hands in his and warming them with his breath.

The blush on her cheeks was the most adorable sight. Then she would mutter something about him being too kind and Jihyun wouldn’t be able to hear to half of it over the furious beat of his own heart.

The feel of her hands on his skin was ingrained on the memory his body. The muscles on his back tensed at her touch as Jihyun himself melted away, unable to resist Rika’s warmth.

Because aside from her hands, everything else was searing hot. When he first kissed her, he thought his cells were combusting and he would find his death right there, on her lips. It was like the biggest gulp on a bottle of cognac, burning his throat and setting his chest on fire. It was intoxicating, and he felt so high he could reach the stars with his fingertips.

Lying by her side, their hearts pressed close as he held her, it was like basking in a bonfire in a chilly autumn night. His body seemed to feed on her glow, and every sleepless night they shared, Jihyun cherished as his last one.

Somehow, his soul knew it had found its end on that lithe form that he adored so much. Every time he kissed Rika he felt like he could die, just like the very first time – and it didn’t make him sad in the least.

Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight For the greatest tragedy of them all Is never to feel the burning light

He had vowed to give Rika his all and he would follow through with this compromise. She owned his soul, for its devotion to her was his raison d’être. She was the one who owned his mind, for everything he ever did was for her. She was his first thought as he opened his eyes every morning, and the reason he fell asleep with a smile on his lips at night. More often than not she followed him into the dream realm, if only to assert her absolute control over him.

She owned his body, so he would welcome the blindness she gave him willfully, just like the scratches on his back and the bruises on his neck.

My dear, find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weight you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and devour your remains. For all thing will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.

Rika shone the brightest then, a blinding light threatening to swallow everything around her.

She was a supernova and the universe was crumbling at her feet.

Jihyun marveled at the fact that he was not afraid, but thankful to every lucky star for sharing a piece of his life with the one thing he loved the most.

Now she would finally have his all, and his heart would go back to its righteous place by her side.

Rika gave him life, and now she would give him death, and Jihyun would welcome the latter as willingly as he did the former.

As Saeran’s fingers pulled the trigger, he prayed to God that he could still assist and protect Rika from afar. Her scream made his ears and his heart bleed, and, despite his best judgement, he almost wished he could stay a little longer.

Fear not, he wanted to say as he cradled her blonde head against his chest as he did uncountable times before. Fear not, for I am only returning to the place I belong.

One would never be complete without the other, but just as he waited his whole life to meet her, he would wait ‘till the ends of time to have her again. Her soul was a requiem for his own and he knew that it was not a goodbye so much as a setback.

Still, he would wait for her and for the moment they could be one again, at last. Until then he would love and adore her, making sure to prepare everything for his sun to return.

The bud of our love will swell up during the summer wind, and blossom into a beautiful flower next time we meet.

Fun fact: I don't like Rika. Fact literally everyone could see coming from a mile away: I love V so much that I couldn't cope with my feels and this is what we have.

the excerpts thrown around are (obviously for I can't write poetry for shit) mine. the beautiful souls who wrote them are: Gregory and the Hawk (song is Boats and Birds); Tite Kubo (Bleach vol 60); Oscar Wilde and Charles Bukowsky. I got the one in the end from V's wikia as I tried to calm myself down -- spoiler, it didn't work.

I was crying when I finished writing it, and my only hope is that I managed to convey how I think V feels about Rika.

[toddhowardxreader]

i wish someone would have told me at some point -- poor, impressionable young keena, a child who didn’t know what was wrong with them and didn’t have the words to explain it, a child who felt it was their fault that their brain didn’t work the same way as everyone else’s, a child constantly in pain with no source of relief -- i wish i could have known that there’s nothing you can do to to replace a parent’s love.

i wish i could have known that any parental figure i looked up to, who inevitably let me down in their own colorful adventurous ways, was no replacement for the burning black hole i always felt. that i could be as independent as i physically could, a lesson i believed well into adulthood, thinking that feeding myself and buying my own essentials and paying for my own existence, learning how difficult it is to keep a human being alive, i wish i had known that the pitiable attempt at being my own person was not going to fill up the hole inside me.

it helped, temporarily, it was a thin silty clay that kept me from stumbling too badly on the hole (or, at the very least, warned me that avoiding the hole was often the easiest solution) but oh, oh, when it rains acid and my attempts at filling this gaping ugly wound are washed away and it’s still as empty as it had begun, it throws things into stark relief.

i can’t replace her love. i can have everything in the world my heart desires, i could have a new family that loves me and comfort and ease and no more worries on my poor tired heart but it doesn’t get rid of the hole. someday, oh god someday i hope i can build over the hole, pave it and set the foundations and slowly create something worthwhile that makes me almost forget about the crumbling empty nothingness beneath it.

but it will never go away.

i have words for it now and i can call it whatever i want. i can tell people in plain and simple terms i don’t get along with my mother. i can tell them it’s abusive. maybe they will begin to understand. i’ve put enough distance between that relationship, now, that i can dully recite what she’s done to me over my life. because it’s not normal for a mother to lock her child out of the house. or to scream at her child and strike them and pull their hair and drag them naked to beat them like an animal. or to tell them in horrible, caustic words that they’re a freak, and messed up, to tell a broken child there’s something wrong with them. to threaten to a child that she’d kill their pet in front of them if they stop taking care of them. to have her sobbing, shaking child stand there as she films them and screams at them to stop crying because someday she’d show them this video and wouldn’t they think they’re acting stupid.

i mean, i can tell these things to people, because they happened to me and i can’t change that. i know it’s not normal to be more scared of my mother than of anything else. i knew that for a long time, ever since i started having nightmares of running away from her and started finding any excuse i could to stay after-school because i didn’t want to come home and confront her.

and people don’t like hearing it, they look pained and vaguely-sympathetic and they tell you that’s fucked up and awkwardly try to change the subject. but very, very few people understand what it’s like to hate the human being who gave birth to you. you know when i was a suicidal, mentally-ill teenager who just tried to get through every day alive, one of the things that kept me going, when i hid under the covers and cried and cried and wondered what was wrong with me and if i was going to burn in hell for hating her, the thing that kept me going was fantasizing about murdering her and it’s so fucked up and i know it is but it’s still the case because i hate her. she’s ruined so much of my life and it will never go away. i can do whatever i can to ignore that stupid empty bottomless black hole but it will never, ever go away.

it hurts so very much.

[l0st-h0p3]

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

I see it.

I’m on the tip of the ice berg.

Slowly it’s melting beneath my feet.

Soon I’ll be crumbling & crashing down.

Shes back. She’s here. I feel her. She’s near.

So last little update since I last wrote. I kinda decided I wanna treat this platform as my safe space. A place where I can vent and complain about my life because sometimes you just fucking gotta let that shit out man.

So I left off with the eating disorder shit so I wanna talk about that because I’ve been stressed the fuck out.

I guess there’s no simpler way to put it... I’m relapsing. It’s been day 3 of restricting and today has been the worst because it was the easiest and now I’m in deep waters.

Today I got a trigger drink. I really do hate that word but it’ll make sense in a second. So back when I was in beauty school I got really really bad I was like 89-90 lbs. All I ever did was drink a dangerous amount of coffee & espresso & eat the same food everyday because it fit in my calorie amount. In that time I was eating 500 calories a day. I guess it was really bad then because I was dating an alcoholic/drug addict and he was mentally, verbally & sexually abusive. After he raped me several times I lost all control of myself and literally diminished into nothingness.

Ok so my trigger drink. I got an iced Americano. If you don’t know what that is it’s 4 shots of espresso with water. I get it black. So because it’s so strong I take small sips throughout the day and I realize I’m not hungry at all.

During the week I normally work at 12 or 1 til close which is anywhere from 8-9. But we all know in the salon world you leave when the last client is finished. So I never eat in the mornings because I’m never hungry. So I come home at 9:30 , smoke a half of a blunt & eat some snackers from Olga’s.

It’s not 12:55 am and my stomach is growling yet I’m not allowing myself to eat. Part of me is like “no don’t fall backwards you made so much progress.”

But I don’t care. I hate my body. I don’t like how I look I feel and look ugly. I’m not comfortable in my own skin and I miss being petite, skinny and tiny.

So I’m an assistant at a salon & spa so I work under the head stylist. She had this client today that was clearly anorexic. Her arms were sooo thin you could snap them like a pencil.

Now some normal persons initial reaction would probably be something like “oh wow she’s so skinny, she needs to gain some weight.”

But what was my initial reaction? Pure jealously. Pure rage. That I couldn’t let myself get to her point because I was too weak.

So I don’t care really right now if it’s my eating disorder talking or if it’s me... maybe it’s both or maybe we are one by now. I mean it’s been 11 years already... what’s 11 more right?

I swear my ED is just a drug I can’t seem to get away from. I love & hate everything about it. It’s a journey filled with endless pain & eternal sadness. You don’t realize what you’re doing to yourself until you step away & look at the big picture and you’re like “fuck maybe this is a problem.”

And the worst part is I even went out of state for treatment and everyone around me thinks I’ve magically recovered because that’s what I want them to think.

Nobody knows I’m relapsing.

I think my disorder is kinda like an addiction. It makes me feel safe and like I have control. I’m terrible with or without it. No matter how hard I try I always end up back in the depths of the disorder.

And what’s sad is I really see me going down hill this time. I’m just not happy with my life right now. I have no close friends which is completely my fault because I lied to them about being with my ex again. I don’t really have that close of a relationship with my older sister because she’s going through some shit. And I don’t know like I love my work so much I love what I do but the depression makes me feel like I’m not going anywhere in my career and that I’m gonna stay stagnant. Some days it’s so hard to get out of bed in the morning. I just feel lost & lonely. And when I feel that way I turn to my friends Ana & Mia because I guess they are my best friends yet terrible enemies. I feel so good yet lost & confused without them.

I don’t feel like anything when I’m at a healthy weight. It’s like the negative attention I get when I’m sickly thin is a pro in my eyes? God that makes no sense.

I still have old pictures on my phone of my body from 2015 up until now. I’m literally triggering myself by looking at old photos of myself. The only thoughts that run through my mind are : “ you were sooo thin. Why did you let yourself go? This is the largest you have ever been? You’re fat. What are you doing to yourself you pig?”

So I’m done. I hate my body. Sure I looked sexy to guys but fuck it I don’t care. Fuck feeling pretty or sexy about myself. I don’t deserve to feel that way. I’m a piece of fucking shit who is terrified of the world and I’m just a lost soul.

I’m so hurt by my past that I can’t forgive myself. I can’t move on. I can’t escape. I’m trapped by my mistakes and traumatic events that occurred because of those mistakes.

Like in all honesty I really do think it was my fault I was raped and abused. Why? Because I knew what he was doing was wrong and I still fucking stayed. I ran back and forth from the toxic relationship for almost 2 years!

The first night me and nick ( 1st Ex boyfriend) hooked up was not like any hookup... it was forced.

So story time. I knew this guy nick through my old friend tyra. I always thought he was cute but I thought if he got in shape and cleaned up a little he would be really attractive yanno? So anyways fast forward to November 2016. Me & my friend tyra go to a college house rave party. We get there and in comes nick. Right when I saw him I was like “damn.” He went to navy school and lost so much weight and he looked really good. So the party starts and everyone’s super fucked up. I got drunk, smoked hella weed, and did some coke & molly. So 5 am rolls around and bodies are just hitting the floor man. I swear I was on an episode of skins or something. So by this point nick and I kinda flirted with each other but it was nothing serious. He was blackout drunk and on hella drugs. So we are kinda flirting and hanging out and we are trying to find somewhere to sleep. Every fucking spot in the house is taken and I decided that nick and I could sleep behind the dj booth on the fucking basement floor. So I sit out my blanket and pillow. I just wanted to cuddle. I was so fucking exhausted by this point and not feeling good because what can I say me and molly don’t get along. And As we are cuddling he keeps grabbing on me and trying to stick his hand down my pants. I keep laughing and telling him to screw off and go to bed. He keeps trying and trying. I keep laughing but nervously now and he keeps being persistent and sticking his hands in my pants. And what did I do? I fucking gave in.

Then we started having a relationship a couple months after that and we went downhill super fast. He never wanted to have a real relationship with me. He was awkward & didn’t really make any conversations with me. We just would get fucked up together and have sex. After awhile he became super manipulative and just mean. I was always searching for valadation from him.

He went to a navy school that was 4 1/2 hours away from where I live. He would visit a lot so I would see him often. Eventually when I started beauty school I would go and visit him. I remember my first weekend up there. I took some days off school and was so excited to finally visit him. The agreement with my parents is that I drove to my sisters college which was about 2 1/2 hours from nicks school so he would pick me up from there because my car was sketchy to take the whole trip. So he picks me up from my sisters apartment and everything seems good. We talk the whole way there and laugh. I get to his apartment and right off the bat he seems awkward around his roommates with me there because I was only 18 at the time and nick was 20 and his roommates were 21 & 22 I think. Mind you he begged me to visit him up at school and always held it against me when we fought that I never made an effort to see him. So the first night is ok we drink but I don’t think I got that drunk. We have sex once or twice as expected and yeah everything seemed ok.

Well the next day things took a weird turn. The whole morning he doesn’t even speak to me and instantly just hops on top of me and starts taking my clothes off. We go to the mall later that evening and he runs into some friends from school. He introduces me as his friend. I just kinda look at him with that “are you fucking serious face?”. I know he got the message instantly. His excuse was that he slipped and said friend. Yeah ok.

The rest of that trip was a blur. We never even left that fucking bed. All he wanted was sex. Like every fucking hour. And I didn’t even feel anything.

I guess the first time he raped me was when I visited the first time. I remember he wouldn’t let me wear clothes to bed. He always wanted me to wear nothing or the least amount of clothes possible. I remember I would wake up in the middle of the night still drunk & confused to find him on top of me trying to “stick it in”. I would kinda be like “wtf Are you doing?” And he would make up some excuse or just “fall back asleep.”

The others times I went up there it got worse. Some days we would barely say a thing to each other. I began drinking a lot because I guess I thought that if you can’t beat em join em. I got sick and tired of always having to take care of his drunk ass so why not get wasted with him?

The abuse got so bad. I remember one time I drove home and had to pull over on the highway because I was sobbing. I couldn’t even sit down or stand up too fast because my vagina had been torn so badly because he would just shove it in. I remember one time I told him to stop because he was hurting me... he told me to “just get used to it” and proceeded to thrust.

I felt trapped. Every time I tried to leave he lured me back in. Until finally I had enough. I stood up to his bullshit and told him what he was doing to me was terrible and no human in their right mind would do that to another human. I finally left.

I think those were my darkest days. My disorder really took ahold of my life and my own fucking boyfriend didn’t realize that I was 90 lbs. I was so sick.

But I still feel responsibility for those events that occurred. It’s MY fault. I could’ve left. I could’ve stood my ground right from the start. I could’ve stood up and grabbed my things that night we were lying beneath the dj booth.

I could’ve. I should’ve.

I didn’t.