#i still have more memes unanswered from a week or so back

[fangirl-dot-com]

🌑Track 3 - Big Reputations

guys, I was so proud of this chapter and then the instagram post. I always try to make them look cohesive and that the pictures were taken all together - and I think I was able to do that really well this time!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar huffed while looking at the notification from the WhatsApp. Apparently two new numbers had been added in the past hour. However, no one has said anything. He opened the app and began to type, before he pressed the delete button. 

What was he supposed to say? 

Liam and Theo had been added weeks ago. The atmosphere of the group chat was a bit lighter with the two new additions. Despite what he had said in an interview a couple of months ago, the group chat did have a random meme or quirky text thrown around from time to time. The two new drivers had made themselves known immediately. Yet, these two “drivers” had yet to say anything. 

Oscar’s eyebrows scrunched at the two unknowns invading the safe space. His apartment was quite empty. Lily wasn’t able to join him for the last few days of break. He was technically supposed to be packing to head to Bahrain in the morning, but he couldn’t find the want or energy to actually start. 

He would have called Lando, but the Briton was already busy with Quadrant things. He thought about texting Logan, but immediately shut the idea down. The American had probably gotten a new number, since Oscar’s messages weren’t even delivered. And the sight of Logan’s Instagram being deactivated also meant that he didn’t want to be found in the first place. 

Oscar’s heart clenched weirdly at the thought. How had they gone from being best friends to not even talking anymore. 

To Oscar, it hurt. The Aussie was trying to justify his own acts against the American. If Logan had been just a bit more extroverted, or had done a better job at driving, or had actually tried to reach out, then maybe Oscar wouldn’t have distanced himself. 

But then again, he had multiple unanswered texts and missed calls from Logan that he ignored. 

Another notification had him glancing back down at his phone. 

This time, George had taken the initiative to welcome to two, still unknown, rookies. The “hi, welcome to the grid” text was a standard for everyone who joined. His fingers itched to also welcome them, but he stopped himself and looked closer at the two contacts. 

Racer #2 and Racer #95. 

Oscar sighed at the sight of the familiar number. He guessed that someone had been wanting to take that number since Logan was no longer racing. 

However, he just wondered who they were and why they didn’t use their real names. The answer came from the #95. 

“What?” Oscar whispered to himself as he read over the text. Lamborghini didn’t want them using their names until they showed up at testing. How ridiculous it was in Oscar’s mind. He watched as Liam tried to make conversation with #95, asking if their number was a nod to the famous Cars movie. 

Liam didn’t get a reply. 

The Aussie had a bad gut feeling. Maybe this was all a joke. They could try to be civil, and maybe freaking answer? Oscar did not like the vibes he was getting from the two. 

He didn’t even know if they were both males. 

He had heard rumors that Lamborghini was looking at a possible female candidate. But that what they were supposed to be: just rumors. He cleared the app and opened the messages icon on his iPhone. George’s contact is what he pressed and immediately opened a call. 

His phone rang for a moment before the Briton picked up. 

“Hello mate,” George’s voice sounded from the phone. 

“Hi George. I just wanted to ask about the two new numbers.” 

“Ah the new drivers for Lamborghini?” 

Oscar nodded before he realized that George was not on Facetime. “Yes.” 

George sighed. “From what I got, they’re legit drivers. However, I got an email directly from Michael saying that Tonino wanted his drivers’ identities to not be compromised before testing.” 

“Ah, well, I just didn’t want to say anything to them before I knew they were legitimate. It’s kind of weird.” 

“I understand. It’s weird to see that someone else is going to use Logan’s old number.” 

Oscar could hear, what was it, a touch of sadness in George’s voice? Why would he be sad? 

“I meant that it’s weird that they don’t want their names to be known. I mean, it’s just a number George, I’m not upset about that.” 

The Mercedes driver made noise. 

“But it’s Logan’s number.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, if Logan wanted to keep it, he should have been a better driver.” 

The line went silent, and Oscar really thought that George might have hung up. A quick glance to the screen told him otherwise. 

“You don’t truly believe that, do you? Logan tried to hard.” 

Oscar bit out, “Well, it wasn’t enough. He should have done better, been better. Maybe then I could still stand him. Thanks for your help George.”  

With that, the Aussie hung up before George could even answer. He was furious. If Logan truly wanted to stay in F1, he should have done better and that was that. No need to be butthurt over someone who wasn’t going to be in his life anymore. 

On the other side of London, George was still looking at his phone screen after Oscar hung up. But, the Briton was staring at the Driver #2’s WhatsApp number. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to memorize the digits. 

“What are you staring at?” Lewis sounded as he sat on George’s couch. 

Oh, George kind of forgot that he was there. 

The tall Briton didn’t answer as he opened his own messaging app and went directly to Logan’s new contact. The last message had been read but went unanswered. And that was almost a month ago. 

But, as he stared at the info tab and the number he had down for Logan and then at the number for Driver #2, the digits matched up. 

George’s eyes widened before he looked up at Lewis and smirked. 

“How do you feel about the two new drivers?” 

Lewis shrugged. “A bit stand-off-ish. But I understand, they were only added today.” 

The brunet took a seat across from his older teammate and faux sighed. 

“I’m just worried that the rookies are going to not be included. Ya know, like what happened with Logan.” 

Lewis put a hand on George’s shoulder. 

The man looked at him with big brown eyes. “It wasn’t your fault George. Williams had this planned for a long time. There was nothing you could do.” 

George stood up immediately and threw his hands. 

“But I could have been a better friend. He was struggling Lewis and no one did anything. Oscar was too busy making eye-babies with Lando to notice that his friend was falling. Alex was being an asshole. And no one else took the time to even get to know him, and now he’s gone.” 

On the inside, George was congratulating himself on the performance that he was putting on. Of course he knew that driver #2 was Logan. And, he was guessing that driver #95 was possible that best friend that Logan spoke so highly of, the female ex-driver or Arrow. 

Lewis stayed seated. “I know you’re upset George, but it won’t change anything in the past. All we can focus on is the future. I know for one that I will do my best to get to know the rookies so we don’t have another issue like last year. I know you’re not focusing on the chat but it looks like Max and Charles have been able to get a few answers out of them.” 

George looked back down at his phone to see multiple notifications from WhatsApp. It looks like Lewis was telling the truth. 

Multiple messages had been exchanged between the two rivals and the unknown numbers, well, unknown to everyone but him. George smirked. 

“Looks like the rivals can get along.” 

Lewis snorted. “I guess they also want to try to be a bit more welcoming. We can all learn from our mistakes last season.” 

The shorter Briton looked down, slightly getting emotional. Lewis knew first-hand how detrimental Formula 1 was to childhood best friends. His own heart still hurt to see Nico on the weekends that he was there. He felt guilty that he let Brocedes happen once again with Logan and Oscar. 

For a short time, George had been irate with Lewis about the switch to Ferrari. But now, seeing what happened with Logan last season, George didn’t want to miss precious moments with his friend. 

George never responded to what Lewis said. He only sat down again, across from the couch, and sent a simple text to Logan. 

Back in Milan, you and Logan were cackling over messing with the other drivers. You could tell that no one knew what to do with the secrecy of identities. But now that you were in a banter with Charles over ice cream flavors and Logan was having a deep conversation about air pollution with Max, the group chat seemed a little less daunting. 

A ping from Logan’s phone had the two of you looking at it. Logan hadn’t expected a text from George after leaving him on read months ago. But now, the new messaged seemed to stare back at them. 

All the message said was “Glad to see you back. Let me know when you get to Bahrain for testing.” 

Logan winced as he forgot he had the same number for both iMessages and WhatsApp. You could definitely tell that he was spiraling. You placed a hand on his arm. 

“Hey, Michael isn’t going to be upset. He knows that you and George are friends.” 

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. 

“I’m just so scared of messing up again.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Logan, you didn’t mess up the first time. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Your body leaned back, expecting Logan to retaliate. Except, the American only smiled at you, taking in your words. 

“You’re right.” 

You pushed his shoulder. “Like always.” 

Instagram was pulled up on your phone. You refreshed the page to show that Lamborghini had posted something about the two of you. Your fingers quickly scrolled through the comments while you smirked at all the fan theories. 

You pipped up as Logan sipped on a smoothie. 

“Looks like everyone is talking about us.” 

The man across from you smirked back. “But they don’t even know it’s us. I kind of like it. No one knows and can’t say anything. They just know that something big is happening. Also, George wants to meet up when we get to Bahrain.” 

“You texted him back?” You never looked up from your phone, now scrolling through twitter. 

“Yeah. George was actually the only one that was nice to me on a regular basis. I miss him.” 

“Sounds like fun. I’m glad you had George last season. Are we going to play paddle?” 

The typing sounds came from Logan’s phone as he texted George. A ping signaled that he answered. 

“Yeah. Looks like Lewis, Max, and Charles might join.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like peculiar bunch?” 

Logan shrugged. “I mean, Lewis is going to be Charles’s teammate next year. And then anywhere Charles goes, Max isn’t too behind.” 

“Makes sense. Kind of like us?” 

Logan sent you a lopsided smile. “Like us, except we aren’t childhood rivals.” 

“Of course. Only because we never karted together.” 

A sigh left Logan’s lips. He always wished you could have karted with him, but you were off in the Italian divisions while Logan stuck in the British divisions. However, the summers the two of you spent together in Florida would always trump the times apart. 

Logan got lost in thought before he spoke again. 

“Do you even know how to play paddle?” 

A snort left your lips. “Of course. Maybe I’ll bring the one you sent me with your face on it.” 

Red flushed Logan’s face. “Please don’t.” 

“What would you do about it Mr. Sargeant?” 

Logan just picks up one of the decorative pillows from the couch and chucks it at your head. You do not have time to react and it ends up hitting you square in the face. Your mouth lets out a squawk before you pick the pillow back up. You rise from the plush chair and stalk toward Logan, who has put his hands up to deter you. 

“Please have mercy! I didn’t mean it.” 

You stopped for a bit, giving Logan some false hope and enough time for him to put his hands down before you swing the pillow, hitting the side of his head. Logan splutters before reaching out and pulling you down on top of him. 

The two of you tussle for a bit before Marissa walks into the room. She chuckles as she watched the two of you roll on the floor, both tugging on the pillow. 

“I don’t even want to ask.” 

The sound of her voice makes the two of you freeze. Your heads slowly turn toward her, before the two of you scramble to get up. You mock dust yourself off as Logan awkwardly chuckles. 

Marissa cocks an eyebrow. “If the two of you are done, it’s time for the suit and helmet promo pictures along with some circuit testing.” 

You and Logan have giant grins on your face as the two of you follow her out. Logan elbows you before walking quickly to Marissa’s side. You gawk at him before shaking your head. 

Logan was going to be the death of you. But you’d let him. 

At the test track, you were smiling behind your helmet as you watched Logan go lap after lap. The helmet was just a standard black one with multiple different sponsor logos on it, as well as the Lambo one being the biggest. You and Logan had worn them while walking into the circuit, just in case there were any cameras or paparazzi around. The last thing you wanted was to be outed before testing. 

You watched as Logan finally pulled in, the car looking fast. 

Logan’s hands automatically went to take his helmet off as a force of habit, but he quickly put them down. Like you, he also didn’t want to outed. 

Marissa beckoned the two of you over. 

“All right, that looks good for Logan. Y/n you’ll run 15 laps and then you’re done for today. I’ve already talked to Michael and he’s fine with the two of you playing paddle. He’s rented out a building for the day, just in case, but he wants the two of you to have fun. The flight you need to catch is early at 5 am. Please be on time.” 

As you and Logan were running to the gate the next morning, you should have headed Marissa’s warnings a bit more. The two of you were huffing and puffing by the time you got to the lounge, with only 15 minutes to spare. Many older, fancy-looking people gave you weird looks. You tried to smile at them, but it came out as more as a grimace. 

You were able to catch a few hours of sleep while Logan went over some more data. He was always the one to go over things like that, trying to find the sweet spot of the car. Logan had done the same at Williams, but it rarely made a difference. He had just found the perfect balance of the car in Austin last year, and then they made him switch with Alex. And then he didn’t even get his car back. The rebuilt chassis was terrible. 

Logan smiled to himself as he felt the familiar weight of your head on his shoulder. He barely turned and kissed the top of your head. A blush ran through his face as you leaned more into him, trying to snuggle closer. 

Benny was watching with a small smile as he saw Logan place his head on top of yours. The older man had sworn that he wouldn’t be returning. But the moment Michael had reached out with an offer than he couldn’t refuse, he accepted it without hesitation. He would do anything for Logan. His wife was also very understanding and was thankful for the compensation that Lamborghini was going to provide for her family. Logan was like their eldest son, and they couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him down again. 

You were still pretty tired on the way to the hotel, but were now buzzing with energy as Logan drove you to the paddle courts. He was driving one of the company’s Lamborghini Urus since your Aventador and his Huracan hadn’t been able to be shipped in time. They were done and ready to be driven when they shipped them to Jeddah. 

Logan had given you the DJ privileges for this ride, but he claimed it on the way back. You were going through his phone, letting George know that the two of you would be the first to arrive. He texted back that him, Lewis, Max, and Charles would all arrive together. You thumbed up the text, after telling him to give him Logan’s last name at the counter so that they could be let in. 

George was smirking in the Mercedes that Lewis was currently driving. Charles and Max were banned to the back seat (yet they claimed they wanted to be back there because they couldn’t afford to be caught riding in a Mercedes). 

Once they parked, he turned his body to face the group. 

“Now, I’m going to give the front a last name so that we can get in, but do not overreact, ok?” 

The lanky-Briton didn’t wait for an answer before he got out of the car. He could feel the presence of the three drivers and held the door open. The lady at the front stared at them weirdly. George watched as she opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. 

“We’re a part of the group that’s playing today.” 

“Name please?” 

The lady typed something on her computer. 

George smiled. “Sargeant.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw heads whip toward him, but he decided to ignore the shocked looks as well. 

Typing resumed as he tapped the desk, a bit impatient to see his friend after a while. A grin grew on her face as she finally looked up at him. 

“Court 3. Extra paddles are in the small boxes if you don’t have any. Enjoy your time.” 

George took the initiative and led the group around the corner. Lewis tugged on his sleeve, but he didn’t stop, not when he heard the familiar laugh. 

The door squeaked as he opened it, letting the figure in the room notice the arrival of the group of four. George’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Logan. 

To him, the American had filled out a lot. He often looked too skinny during race weekends, especially after Benny left. The Briton wanted to ask him about his nutrition but had always been nervous to. He was also more tan that he had been. His hair looked fluffy and there were no more purple eyebags under his eyes. Overall, he just looked so much better than end of the 2023 season Logan. Where had the sick child gone and who was this man in front of George? The brunet thought for a moment that he had been played, until Logan started walking toward him. 

“Mate, are you going to ogle or are you going to say something?” Logan asked as he stepped toward George, arm stretched out. 

He clasped George’s hand and pulled him into a hug. Once the bro-moment was done, George still kept looking at Logan.

“You look good mate.” 

Logan’s head leaned back as he laughed. 

“Thanks.” 

It was then he noticed that the other three drivers had yet to move from the door. Their eyes were still wide and looking at the duo. Logan smirked as he saw you sneak up behind them. 

“Hi guys!” you semi-yelled, making them jump. Your giggle sounded in the big court. That was the icebreaker that they needed as they finally walked into the room. You immediately stood next to Logan as he introduced you. 

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Logan. “I know their names. We had good conversations about how chocolate is the best ice cream flavor. Isn’t that right Charles?” 

Charles had a pout on his lips. “I said no such thing. I believe we agreed that vanilla was the best non?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.” 

Max raised his hand. “You are both wrong. The best flavor is clearly mint chocolate chip.”

You all just deadpanned at him. 

“It’s true.” 

“No it isn’t.” 

“Logan, you don’t have an opinion when your favorite is literally the Superman flavor.”

“Shut up Y/n.” 

“Are we going to play paddle now?” 

“Yes Lewis, we’ll play paddle.” 

It was quiet for a moment until you yelled, “I call Charles as a teammate.” 

Logan and Max whipped toward you. 

“That’s just unfair.” 

“I’m leading, he pushed me, I pushed him back, and after, he pushed me off the track. It’s just unfair.” 

Logan followed your lead. “Charles, what happened with Max?” 

“Nothing just an inchident on the race.” 

“That’s it. Lewis is my teammate.” 

“Back off Leclerc. You have him for next year, he’s mine.” 

“What if I wanted Lewis?” 

“Max, you win every race. You can lose at paddle.” 

“Ok, but I still get Charles right?” 

georgerussell63 has posted

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, venus2, and phoenix95

georgerussell63 going into the season strong 💪 (max lost)

liked by phoenix&venus, y/n.nation, venus2, and 3,204,184 others

russellgeorge oh we are so back (I'm delusional)

mercganggang WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN

lambof1 hold on - GEORGE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE??

lamborghini_duo we've been known 🙃

phoenix95 glad to see verstappen on his knees - I'm taking his emotional support rival tho

maxverstappen1 uh, exCUSE me 🤨 get your own emotional support rival

venus2 do I mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc you don't like vanilla so I refuse

maxverstappen1 Charlie I like vanilla

lewishamilton this is so pitiful to watch 🤦🏾

russell63 George really said "I'm getting the band back together"

sargeantgirlie ok - I think I have everything figured out

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[lawain-dimensional-heroes]

You've given me a lot whenever I do these, so it's only fair that you have a turn.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

4? Well then...Here I go.

1 - There really should be a bit more pressure on referencing the ask / RP meme in question

I know this is like the third or fourth time I've been blabbering on about it-- and I think I have it in the rules, but time and time again I see people who send rp memes to my blogs not reference the RP meme they want to send. I don't just mean the simple icons or the thing the meme asks one to send the mun, but referencing which rp meme it came from.

This will help big times when answering ask from like days/weeks/months ago that are still left unanswered. I have like 140+ asks and no one-- I repeat: NO ONE has sent an ask while referencing the rp meme they're referring to. Now it wouldn't be that much of an issue if I had reblogged like one or two rp memes in total, but I know myself and I have reblogged many rp memes over these years and there's a good amount of those memes that share the same emoji's/icons to the point where I am honestly considering deleting old asks that don't reference the RP that it came from.

Now I will admit, I do that myself unintentionally and I do wish that I did refer the memes in question cause I know that it will help make it easier for the mun who'd want to answer older asks.

Honestly, I should just reblog rp memes and add a clear line of text stating to reference this asks when sending it.

2 - There needs to be a return to fun M!A's and events

Is this like a very old trend of tumblr that died off or are there no longer any M!A(Magic Anons) around? And on top of that, where's the fun tumblr roleplay events?

It may be me who did a lot of M!A back when I had an ask blog for my muses, but I loved these things and it was a random fun thing you could get and of course you get to have the final say if that M!A starts yes or no.

Like-- I can recall a few M!A's I had done-- mostly my muses transforming into other muses, but the shenanigans that happened was silly. I also remembered that one time when there was a M!A where Maroon turned into a literal raccoon, it was hilarious!

And then there's RP events. Although there's one I'm doing right now (thanks @hxroic-wxlls for allowing us to partake in that Mario cruise event, it's fun!), there's a scarily few amount of those nowadays on tumblr and it's kind of sad to see something from old tumblr not be so present anymore if at all.

Honestly, there should be more of those events happening in the future-- like proms, Au events, etc. I bet it'll be a fun time on this hellsite!

3 - Ask blogs and Roleplay blogs are just the same thing

As someone who had worked both kinds I've come to the realization that ask blogs and roleplay blogs are mostly the same, the only difference being that ask blogs are mostly ones with art (or in my case back in the day: models) whereas roleplay blogs are mostly just icons and text. Honestly I should restart my ask blog part once again

4 - there's no need to know every single detail about your own muse

Okay, this part hits a bit closer to home as there's been times in the far past where people called me out on the fact that I don't roleplay a muse properly cause I haven't owned/played/read/watch any media involving them. At that time it was from the Neps years ago and yes while I haven't owned any of the Nep media at the time I have watched some things.

I think it's totally fine to wing a muse, it's a part of the charm of roleplaying: roleplay the muse you want to see fit. And if you don't know some details about the muse in question? Is that bad? Not really, but it does help the portrayal, but it doesn't have to be these tiny details that make or break a muse. Sure, some small details may seem small at first but in reality it's a big impact, but I think it doesn't mean it's the end of roleplaying a muse. It's exactly why canon divergent muses exist!

[stcpidcupid]

In Tomie's profile you mentioned she was a child actress. In what movies was she acting? (if you mean real movies and not fictional just for her plot)

AINE ˳ ⠀⠀⠀ this has been in my inbox for over a week by now, i'm so sorry anon but i've kinda let it stay unanswered while i collected the movies / tv show she's been in 😭😭

under the cut, you will find all movies / tv shows that feature tomie – from her young age, up until her debut ( and after ) !

as a child, tomie was primarily featured in kids' shows and movies appropriate for her young age. many people remember her for being in numerous kids' shows, especially a disney show called jessie. her character, minyoung, is one of the adopted ross kids, having been adopted when she was five years old. minyoung, or mimi– as she tells people to call her–, is a quiet yet sassy kid who knows how to take care of herself and her siblings. she has been a part of the main cast since episode one, yet during the last season of the show, she's seen less and less as the show progressed. the other characters in the show have been saying that it's because she started going to a private school, and mimi quickly became just an occurring character until the show ended in 2015. in real life, 2014 was the year tomie moved to south korea, so it became difficult for her to fly back and forth for filming.

fans who have known her ever since jessie were genuinely surprised once she debuted in stupid cupid. and after the show became a meme online, tomie kind of stopped talking about it because she felt a bit embarrassed about being a disney actress.

while she stopped filming tv shows, there was still a period of time when tomie would be featured in various movies, most of them being south korean.

in 2016, tomie was a smart and fearless seventeen-year-old wonju, a niece of sanghwa from train to busan. being a kendo player, wonju is famous for always bringing her kendo stick wherever she goes. once the actual plot starts, wonju takes care of suan with her uncle when seokwoo is unable to, and is quick to become overprotective of her. unfortunately, near the end of the movie ( when seokwoo, suan and seongkyeong reach the train ), she gets separated from the trio as she tries her best to fight the zombies away, getting bitten in the process. in the last scene where she's featured, wonju makes eye contact with a shocked seokwoo, and nods her head as the last goodbye before running the other way to attack more zombies before she becomes one as well.

that was the last thing where tomie was featured as an actress before debuting in stupid cupid.

when stupid cupid debuted and were still rookies, tomie was unexpectedly shown in the teaser for a new movie called okja. there, tomie acted as a young, but brave girl mija. the group debuted in february, but due to tomie being featured as a main character in such a famous movie that same year in june, it helped stupid cupid skyrocket into fame almost immediately.

even tho she was on a hiatus back in 2018-19, mighty devil records couldn't help but chuck her into acting again until the whole "scandal" passed. so tomie had a chance to star in he is psychometric alongside got7's jinyoung and sistar's dasom. tomie's role was a supporting character named kwon eunji, a lovable young adult that went to the same school as jaein & ahn, getting closer to jaein and later working alongside her as a police officer. fans couldn't help but awe at the way tomie portrayed a fun and clingy best friend, despite having less screen time than the other actors. fans got skittish when her character got a lot more screen time at the end of the show because they feared she'd get killed off from the show ( which was later proven false, fortunately ). overall a good way for tomie to receive good support from people, and she quickly announced the ending of her hiatus after the show.

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled,  not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a  couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

[electricbarnes]

tell me you still see me

steve rogers x reader

summary: steve has been working a lot lately. you begin to have doubts about your relationship.

↳ songs i listened to for inspiration 

wc: 5.9k | warnings: some angst, overthinking, self-doubt, implied smut 

note: this is a repost from my old account that was deleted. so if it’s familiar, that’s why! i wasn’t planning on reposting but i read it over and decided why not. i have another steve fic that i’m almost done with, so i wanted to post this in the meantime. i made a few minor edits. i hope you like it! and if you decide to reread it, thank you x1000 !!

You arrive at your apartment, hands filled with groceries for the week. You struggle to open the door with the many bags on your arms, but eventually make it inside. You kick off your heels and set the bags down on the kitchen counter. After freeing your hands, you reach into your purse to find your phone. You unlock it and tap on the first name at the top of your recent calls.

The phone rings for a bit before you hear the sound of your boyfriend’s voice saying “Hello”.

“Oh my god Steve, you’re never gonna believe what I saw at the store just now,” you say, thinking of the wild thing you witnessed during your shopping trip. It’s not everyday that you see someone throw themselves into a cereal box display. It was a hilarious sight and you just wanted to tell someone about it.

“So, I was just strolling through the isles looking for some snacks when a-” you’re cut off before getting too into the story.

“Honey, can this wait? I’m about to go into a mission briefing,” Steve says in a hushed tone. Immediately, you feel guilty for interrupting him while he’s busy. It was well into the evening and you had assumed he wouldn’t be working.  

“Oh, uh yeah of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” you apologize.

“That’s okay,” he reassures you, “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, talk to you later then.”

The phone beeps, indicating the call was over. You sigh and go back to the task of putting your groceries away.

You decide to lounge around the rest of the day, trading your work clothes for some comfy sweats and a tee shirt. You spend the night mindlessly scrolling through social media while reruns of some sitcom play on the tv. You even send Steve a few memes here and there. You’re not really sure if he’ll understand them but they reminded you of him.

After eating a late dinner, you channel surf for a bit before putting on a random movie. When the movie finishes, it’s nearly 11pm and you realize that Steve hasn’t called you back. You pick up your phone, tempted to call him but decide it’s better to wait till tomorrow. He hasn’t replied to your texts, so there’s a chance he’s still busy despite the late hour.

Unfortunately for you, being a superhero is a full time job, which means that Steve can be busy at any moment of any day. You knew this going into a relationship with thee Captain America. To be fair though, you didn’t think you’d actually get to know the super soldier like you do now.  

When you met Steve, he was just some handsome guy at the park who helped you with directions when you were visibly lost. You ended up seeing him at the park again a couple days later. Recognizing you, he stopped and asked if you wanted to get a coffee. Who were you to deny this man?

You spent two hours in a café getting to know each other before exchanging numbers. In hindsight, his vague answers about his career were a little suspicious. It wasn’t until you went home that night and saw a picture of Steve in a tweet captioned “idc that captain america is like 100 yrs old, he can still get it 😍”.

Needless to say, you were shocked. While you were feeling dumb for not recognizing him sooner, you also wondered why he didn’t say anything. After an awkward confrontation about the subject, he explained how he didn’t want you to go out with him just because he was Captain America. You were quick to ease his worries and reassure him that you were interested in Steve for Steve, not for his heroic persona.

Since then, your relationship with Steve has been nothing but amazing. He was always so sweet with you, taking you on simple but romantic dates. There was something about that 40s charm that was so endearing. You loved the small things, like how he would always open the door for you or how he would bring you flowers on each date. It was so easy to talk to him about anything and everything. You felt like he was not only your boyfriend, but also your best friend.

There were times where you wondered why he ever picked you, an average person compared to the super people he’d work with everyday. He could’ve had anyone he wanted. Steve would say that you were like his sanctuary from the hectic world of being an Avenger. It meant a lot to you that you could be that person for him. You thought he deserved some peace after everything he’s been through. He wanted to protect you from the evil that inherently came with the job, which you understood, so he rarely spoke about the missions he’d go on. The less you knew the better. Though sometimes, you would wish he’d open up more about what was going on while he was away. Especially since he would be gone for days on end.

It was only a month into your relationship that you realized how hard it’d be when he would leave to be Captain America. It was his first time leaving for a mission that lasted longer than a day. He had to spend a week in some place on the other side of the world with no way of contacting him. Of course, you were worried the entire time he was gone. Despite trying to distract yourself with work and personal tasks, Steve was always at the forefront of your mind.

You had never felt such relief than the day he called you after a whole week of silence. Steve had even asked you shyly if he could come over that night. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he told you that he needed to see you. It was the first time he had spent the night at your place. Having Steve’s arms wrapped around you the entire night just felt right. You knew as early as then that you loved him.

Over the year that you had been together, those long missions became easier to manage. You’d always trust that he’d come back to you in one piece. Steve would sometimes feel guilty about being away for so long that he’d try to make it up to you by taking you on an extraordinary date. But you always assured him that you were happy to just be with him, even if it was just something like the two of you watching a movie at your place.

Lately, Steve has been more distant with you. You’ve chalked it up to the fact that there’s a literal distance between you two since he’s moved upstate to the newly built Avengers compound. Before, he was just a short drive away from the Avengers tower to your apartment. Now, he’s hours away from you. There were discussions of you moving in with him, but your job was in the city and you couldn’t leave that behind.

You both decided to make the best of the situation, calling and texting whenever possible. FaceTiming was the usual occurrence throughout the week, often before bed. You’d tell him about your day in the office and he’d tell you about the new recruits he would train. On the weekends, he’d stay over at your place. It was rare that you’d stay at the compound. Steve said he’d preferred your apartment, claiming it was homier than the compound. Plus, you’d actually have some privacy.

For a long time, it had been a good system. You love Steve and did anything to make the relationship work because he’s worth it. Yet, you couldn’t help the lonely nights where you wondered if he felt the same.

Calls were less frequent. Texts were unanswered. Weekend plans were cancelled because Steve would be assigned to missions during those days. You’d understand, of course. He’s out there saving people! You can’t fault him for that, but it doesn’t stop you from missing him.

Now, it had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him in person. You had texted him throughout the day, but texting wasn’t his favorite thing. Texts were usually reserved for quick check-ins and reminders of I love you’s. He preferred calling and you did too, hearing his voice was much better.

After learning that he had been back from a short mission, you texted him.

You: FaceTime later? ☺️

You were eager to see him, even if it was through a screen. You were just hoping he had the time.

Steve ♡: Sure.

Later that night, you sat on your bed with your laptop, opening up FaceTime. After a few rings, Steve’s face appears on the screen. A smile immediately breaks out on your face.

“Hi babe!” you say cheerily, finally getting to see your boyfriend after what felt like forever.

“Hi honey,” he says with a soft smile.

Your smile dims a bit, eyebrows furrowing when you recognize the background. “Are you still in your office?” It was pretty late and you assumed he’d be in bed by now.

“Yeah, I was finishing up on some mission reports,” he explains, shuffling some papers on his desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be done by now,” you apologize, recalling the last time you had interrupted him from his work.

“No, no” he waves his hand, “I thought I’d be done by now too, but it’s a lot more than I expected.”

You frown at the thought of your boyfriend overworking himself. You want to ask him about it, but you know he’ll say what he always does when you ask about his missions: It’s classified.

“You’re not stressing yourself out too much, are you Steve?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. Even through the hazy quality of the webcam, you can see the tired look in his eyes.

“Never,” he says with a smirk.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” you say with a teasing tone.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about honey,” he reassures you. “Besides, I wanna know what you’ve been up to.”

You scoff, “well, it’s definitely not nearly exciting as your week must’ve been.”

“I still wanna know,” he says with that boyish grin you love.

Steve always knew how to make those butterflies appear. You end up telling him about the incident you witnessed at the store which makes him laugh as he imagines the odd sight. He tells you about a prank Tony pulled on him and Sam and you beg him to send you the recording of it. He refuses, but you know you’ll get your hands on the footage eventually. Things felt normal again, just talking to him.

“So I was mixing the dough and halfway through I realized I completely forgot about the eggs,” you were in the middle of telling him about the new recipe you ended up ruining earlier this week.

Steve hums in response. You notice him looking to the side, not looking at the screen and you hear the sound of typing.

“and then a blue monster broke into my apartment,” you make up in an attempt to get his attention.

“Mhmm”

“and he stole all the cookies,” you continue.

“Hmm”

“Steve,”

Silence.

“Steve,” you say with a little more force.

“Huh?” he finally looks up at the screen.

“You’re not listening to me,” disappointment laces your voice.

“I was,” he quickly defends but you don’t buy it.

“Uh huh,” you cross your arms and lean back against your headboard. “What was I talking about?”

Steve glances elsewhere, not meeting your eyes when he mumbles “something about a party?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “yeah, like 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry honey, I was listening, really… but these reports need to be done,” he says with an apologetic look on his face.

You couldn’t stay mad at him, but you did feel hurt that he would pretend to listen rather than just telling you something.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

He must notice the disappointment on your face because he apologizes once more.

“I’ll make it up to you honey,�� he promises.

“Are you coming this weekend?” you ask hopefully. He couldn’t come last weekend and you were missing him terribly.

“Of course,” he gives you a tired smile that you return.

“Okay, finish those reports and get some sleep,” you instruct, emphasizing the last part.

“Yes ma’am,” he raises his hand, mock saluting you which makes you giggle.

“Goodnight Stevie, I love you,”

“Love you too sweetheart”

The call ends and you go to bed with a smile on your face.

The rest of the week goes by quickly. You’re excited to get to the weekend because that means you can finally see your boyfriend, in person! Not just behind some screen. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time he came over and you miss his touch.

It was Friday afternoon and you were sitting at a small table in the cafe you frequent, taking a lunch break. Halfway through your break, you got a call from Steve. You were a little surprised to see his picture pop up on your phone since you’re usually the one to call him. Nevertheless, you smiled and answered “Hi babe.”

“Hey honey,” he greets.

“I’m glad you called, I was thinking of picking up a few things from the store after work today. Do you need anything?”

“Uh… about that,” he says in a low voice. Your heart immediately sinks, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“You’re not coming.” A statement, not a question.

“I’m sorry honey. A mission came up and we leave tonight,” he explains and you almost want to laugh. Of course he’s leaving again.

“How long?” you ask. Maybe it’s just for a day and he can still come on Saturday or even Sunday.

“Two days… maybe three,”

You take a moment to process his words. Part of you saw this coming. It seemed too good to be true that you’d finally have him all to yourself. You glance up, trying to fight the sudden feeling of tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a busy café.

“There’s… there isn’t a chance you can skip this one?” you hesitantly ask. Normally, you’d just accept it, but your patience was running thin. This is the second time in a row he’s cancelled on you.

“You know I can’t. This is important,” he says it so sternly, like he doesn’t realize he’s breaking your heart. The missions are always important. More important than you.

“Yeah, but you’ve been working nonstop. I mean, don’t you want a break? Aren’t there others who can go instead?” you argue, voice raising.

“Y/N, I’m going. I have to,” he insists, leaving no room for an argument. You knew how stubborn Steve could be, so you knew he wasn’t going to change his mind on this. Rationally, you knew he probably had no choice in the matter but you took a chance anyways.

“Okay,” you relent.

You can hear Steve sigh before saying, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He’s been saying that a lot lately, but you know they’re empty promises.

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he says much softer than his previous tone.

“Love you too,” you say back, but your heart hurts.

Before you met Steve, sleeping alone wasn’t so bad. Some nights you would be on your phone, scrolling through social media till you eventually got sleepy. Other times, you’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about your day and mentally planning the next. Too often you found yourself overthinking about something you did, something you wish you could change. Or you would be anxious about something coming up, running through different scenarios of how it’d go. For some reason, your mind wouldn’t let you succumb to the sleep that your body desperately needed. But you were used to it.

Then Steve came along and he’d be there to ease your mind. On the nights he would stay over, sleep came much easier. There would still be nights where your mind kept you awake, but Steve would be lying right next to you. You’d be on his chest, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you told him about that meeting you were nervous about or how you got in trouble by your boss for a simple mistake. Steve would assure that everything would be okay and you found it easy to believe him.

He always knew when you needed a distraction from your worries, bringing up mundane things like last night’s baseball game or telling you about the modern music he actually started to like. Sometimes, he’d tell you a story from his life in the 40s. Stories like how his friend Bucky would drag him all over town, trying to find a date for the evening. Or about that time he had to star in an action movie when he just started out as Captain America (which you made a mental note to find later on Youtube). You loved hearing about Steve’s old life, curious about what made him into the man you love today.

Sometimes he’d just entertain your wild thoughts, especially when you’re half asleep. Conversations like how different life would be if dinosaurs never went extinct or if flat earth conspiracists were right. You’d be lying with your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist while you mumbled any thoughts that came to mind. He’d listen till he heard your soft snores and he’d give you a gentle kiss on your head before he’d fall asleep too.

Then there would be nights where words would rarely be spoken. A night of soft moans as he took care of your body in ways only he knew how. He’d whisper praises, drawing out moans from you as he hit all the right spots. It was always different and exciting. You never knew what to expect, but he would always be so loving. You’d always stay close, basking in the afterglow.  

After having the comfort of Steve in the night, the times he’s not there feel a lot lonelier than before.

Like now, you’ve got your eyes closed but you’re not sleeping. Your thoughts seem louder than ever and they’re all about Steve. It probably doesn’t help that you decided to wear one of his tee shirts to bed, the faint smell of him making you miss him even more. After he cancelled on you (again) this past weekend, you started to wonder if he even wanted to see you at all.

You want to be mad at him, but how can you be? He’s Captain America! He has a responsibility that he can’t ignore, not even for his girlfriend. Lately, you can’t help but be worried at how many missions he’s been going on. To make matters worse, you’re left in the dark about all of it. He says it’s safer if you don’t know. You just have to trust him and trust that he needs to go.  

But what if he doesn’t actually need to? What if he wants to go so he doesn’t have to see you. Okay, that’s extreme, but it’s a possibility? It seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to you at all sometimes. You’re always the one texting and calling. It’s never really him unless it’s to let you down (again). Maybe you’re just being needy. Were you asking for too much? Are you overreacting? Probably. But it’s normal to be upset about not seeing your boyfriend for weeks, right?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. You pick up your phone from the nightstand. The clock reads 3:12am. You unlock your phone and open your messages to see the last few texts Steve sent.

Steve ♡: I’m sorry.

You: just be safe

             —

Steve ♡: I’m back.

You: okay

Your thumb hovers over the call button for a good bit, contemplating if you want to bother him so late at night. Before you can overthink it, you hit the button. You turn to lay on your side with the phone against your ear, anxiously waiting for the ringing to stop.

“Hello,” Steve answers, voice deep and filled with sleep. You feel guilty for waking him up, but at the same time feel relief at the sound of his voice.

“Hi,” you say shyly. Honestly, you weren’t expecting him to actually pick up. You were prepared to just leave a voicemail.

“Is something wrong?” he mumbles.

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong… I just…” you can feel the heat rising in your face, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. “I just miss you,” you say quietly, not even sure if he’s heard you.

You can hear the shuffling of sheets.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” he says and it warms your heart for a moment, “and as much as I wanna talk right now, I have to be up in a couple hours for a mission.”

“Oh,” the small smile you had on your face quickly disappears. You had no idea he was leaving again even though he just got back the day before.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay hon?” he says tiredly.

You feel a lump in your throat forming but you push past it, “yeah… yeah, of course.”

“Love you,”

“Love you too,” you practically whisper.

The phone call ends and the tears start to slide down your face. You didn’t have the energy to fight them anymore.

The last call you had with Steve a few days ago left you torn between logic and your emotions. You knew he was just tired, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you two. In the past, he never seemed to mind talking to you, even in the odd hours of the morning. You always believed that you guys were so in sync. It seemed like he knew when you needed comfort and would be there to provide it.

You would be able to tell when something was off with Steve and though you would always offer to talk about it, he would brush it off. Thinking back to it, maybe he never really opened up to you for a reason.

You began to question if you are more invested in this relationship than he is. It feels wrong to even think so, considering how sweet and caring he is, especially with you. But everyone has their limits, right? Maybe he’s just gotten tired of you. It’s clear that work is his number one priority right now, maybe he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend anymore. He always makes promises of making it up to you another time, but maybe there will never be another time.

The thought of him leaving completely sends a pang of hurt to your heart.

You: can we talk?

You had sent Steve that text what felt like forever ago, but in reality has only been 20 minutes. You had spent that time repeating in your head what you were going to tell him while you paced back and forth around your living room. You were going to ask for a break. You didn’t want to break up with him completely, no, but you thought that this would be better in the long run. You’re hoping a break will give him the space he needs and then you guys can go back to the way you were. You figured it was better to let him focus on being a hero. You didn’t want to become the clingy girlfriend that he’d eventually resent.

You had no idea how he would react. Maybe he would agree. It’ll be tough, but every couple goes through something like this, right? Sure, it’s a special circumstance with you dating an Avenger, but other people have busy partners. You wonder how they manage a relationship when they don’t see each other so often. Maybe you were giving up too easily? But you’re tired of feeling pushed aside, like you aren’t his priority when he’s at the top of your list. You’re tired of feeling guilty for being upset when he can’t come see you. You’re just tired of feeling like you’re losing him.

Just as you start to doubt your whole plan, your ringtone breaks the silence. You pick up your phone with a shaky hand and tap on the answer button.

“Hello,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the nervous tone of your voice.

“Hey honey, you wanted to talk?”

“Uh, yeah…” you reply, already struggling to keep your voice even.

“Is everything alright?” he’s concerned and you can imagine the look on his face.

“Yeah…yeah,” you lie, “I uh… I just wanted to talk… about us.”

“Listen honey, I’m sorry about last week but it was really-“ he begins to apologize, but you shake your head, not wanting to hear another excuse.

“It’s more than that Steve,” you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts. “Do you realize it’s almost been a month since we’ve last seen each other?”

There’s a pause before he answers, “…I didn’t know it had been so long.”

“Do you even care?” you ask, voice giving in to the mix of anger and sadness you feel. The tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Of course I care, you know I do” he defends.

“Do I though?” you question. The rehearsed words you mentally prepared are long gone. “…I’ve been sitting here thinking of what I’m doing wrong because I feel like something’s changed between us.”

“What are you talking about?” he sounds genuinely confused, “Nothing’s changed.”

“Steve… we don’t talk like we used to, I barely get to see you. I miss you all the time.”

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,“ he acknowledges.

“And I don’t blame you for that,” you clarify.

“I know how important your job is, but… but I’m feeling a little left out here,” your voice cracks at the end. You wipe the few tears that started to fall down your face. “I mean, I feel like I barely know that part of your life. You’re gone most of the time and you never talk to me about it.”

“I can’t, for your safety. We’ve discussed that.”

“Yeah and I thought I could handle it, but you’re giving me nothing here,” you argue. “I wanna be there for you Steve, but it’s hard when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I... I can’t. I want to but it’s better if you don’t know,” he says pleadingly. You want to believe him, but you just can’t seem to let this go.

The silence lingers over the phone.

“Maybe we should take a break,” you eventually say with defeat.

“A break?”

“Maybe we just need some time to sort things out. You can focus on your work and when things get better… we can try again.”

“No, no…” he starts to argue, “that’s not fair.”

“Steve, please…” you beg, “just try to see where I’m coming from. I still love you, I always will. I just think we need this.”

He doesn’t say a word, making you anxious.

“Steve-”

You’re cut off by the phone hanging up. You sit in disbelief, letting the weight of the conversation fall on you.

You spent the rest of the night just curled up on the couch. You keep questioning your decision. In your mind, this was the right thing to do, despite the heartbreak you knew you’d be feeling. But you didn’t think it would hurt as much as it does now.

Steve’s reaction made you rethink the idea of a break. You worry that he thinks you don’t love him anymore when it’s the complete opposite. You did this because you love him. You didn’t want to lose him completely, but it looks like you lost him anyways. Maybe, deep down, a part of you was trying to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

The living room was dark, the only light coming from the street lights outside. The tears have stopped flowing, but the headache lingers. It’s almost 2 in the morning and despite being worn out from crying, you have trouble sleeping. You’re about to get up for a glass of water when you hear a knock on your door.

Your first reaction is to panic, because you weren’t expecting anyone at such a late hour. You mentally run through the self defense moves Steve insisted on teaching you. Slowly, you approach the door, trying to not make any noise.

Knock knock knock.

“It’s me.”

It’s softly spoken, but you hear him loud and clear. You quickly open the door to reveal Steve with a look of sorrow on his face. You can’t help but stare at him in shock, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“I don’t want a break,” he says hoarsely, breaking you out of your trace.

You all but pounce toward him and wrap your arms around his neck. He immediately wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that reminds you of home. Despite everything that happened over the phone, you feel a flood of relief from finally being in his arms.

You stood in his embrace, relishing the feeling of him being there for a good minute before you pulled away. You meet his eyes, noticing the tears surrounding them and it hurts your heart.

“We should talk,” you say, voice rough from the crying just hours ago.

You’re sitting side by side on your couch. You look at him and can’t believe that he drove all the way to your place in the middle of the night. You can see the worry on his face and you want nothing more than to comfort him, but you hold back because you want an explanation first.

“So..” you start off, “you don’t want a break?”

“Y/N, I know I’ve messed up, but please don’t give up on us,” he says with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to. I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted. I thought…” you shy away from his stare, “maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steve looks at you with guilt, realizing for the first time how much he’s hurt you, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that a lot lately but I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Then what's been going on?” you ask, looking back at him, determined to know why it took you asking for a break to get him here.

Steve looks down at his hands, visibly nervous. Why? You have no idea.

“Talk to me Steve,” you encourage him. “Please.”

He turns to look at you, taking a breath before saying “I’ve been looking for Bucky.”

You’re immediately confused. Out of all the things you thought of him saying, this was never one of them.

“Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” you question. You knew of his friend from the stories he would tell you. Bucky was practically a brother to Steve.

“Yes,” he says easily, but it just makes you more confused. The thought of Steve going crazy briefly crosses your mind.

“He’s the Winter Soldier,” he explains. You recognize that name from the news. He was a part of the incident that happened in DC.

“What? H-How would that even be possible?” you question, not really being able to wrap your head around it. From what you knew, Bucky died in war back in the 40s.

“HYDRA was using him. They found him after he fell from the train and they brainwashed him for decades until I was able to snap him out of it when we fought in DC,” Steve continues, “After he saved my life, he disappeared.”

The pain in his voice is evident as he talks about his friend. You scoot closer to him and you take his hand into yours, offering him comfort.

“Sam and I have been following any lead we could to find him,” he explains, “I’ve been doing that along with all the other missions I get sent on. That’s why I’ve been gone so much.”  

It finally makes sense to you.

“Oh Steve,” you say, “I wish you would’ve told me this sooner.”

“I know honey, I should have…” he squeezes your hand, which you reciprocate.

“HYDRA is evil. I’ve seen how cruel they can be,” he continues. “The thought of them coming anywhere near you kills me,” his voice filled with emotion and his eyes gloss over with tears. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out of that headspace…”

He looks away from you, head down, “you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

You reach over with your free hand to touch his face. “Steve,” you turn his head to look at you. His blue eyes shine even in the dim lighting. “Please don’t shut me out. I want to know these things. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I just want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Your eyes beg him to understand you. “And I get it now. Bucky is your friend and I know you’ll find him again someday. Just don’t put all that stress on yourself,” your thumb wipes away a stray tear falling down his face. “I want to help you in any way I can. You can always come back to me.”

He subtly nods and looks at you, faces only a breath apart. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, like he’s in disbelief.

He closes the distance, lips finally meeting yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as you continue to cradle his face in your palms. You focus on conveying all your love for him into the kiss. You pull away briefly to move on to his lap as he leans back into the couch. His hands naturally fall on your hips as you get impossibly close.

You break the kiss again, “Promise not to leave me again,” you plead, but your tone is much lighter this time. You never wanted to leave his arms again.

He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowing a bit, “I can’t promise that,” you give him a sad smile, already knowing that. His hand leaves your hip to push a stray hair behind your ear, “but I can promise that I will talk to you more and show you how much you mean to me more often. ”

You genuinely smile at that.

“This is important to me,” he says, pulling you closer, emphasizing his words, “you’re important to me.”

“I love you”

“I love you too,”

You lean back in to kiss him again, smiling in between because you’re happy to have your Steve back. And you know things will get better from here. There’s still going to be some tough nights when you miss him and he can’t be there, but you know he’ll be missing you just as much. You won’t have to doubt his love for you again.

You pull away once more, “Remember how you said, you’d make it up to me?” you question with a mischievous look in your eye.

“Yeah,” he says looking at you expectantly.

You simply raise your eyebrows and smirk at him. He catches on and mouths an “oh”.

You’re lifted from the couch so you latch onto Steve’s shoulders, giggling loudly at the sudden movement. He carries you into your bedroom, where he definitely made up for lost time.

You slept much easier that night.

hope you enjoyed reading! 🤍 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!! let me know if you liked it :) 

[fezdispenser]

“So am I a whore or not?”

EVELYN HUGO MEME || Accepting || @kitkween

‘Oh i’m fuckin’ sorry,  you finna fuck him now too?’ flying out his mouth so visceral, tongue sharp and  his pride hurt, and his heart aches, but it was his own doing. The pain etched on her face plays over on repeat, and if he could take back his knee-jerk reaction he would in a heartbeat, but they’d already hit her ears like a fever pitch and left her looking at him in a way he hadn’t seen, nor did he ever want to again. Because, fuck, hurting Kat was the last thing he wanted to do. Hadn’t he already done enough to hurt her? In the weeks since the car crash, he’s pulled back more and more, distancing himself as some kind of cruel and unusual self-punishment for his sins; for the part he played in the downfall of her relationship with Ethan. 

It’s been days since the party now, between the unanswered texts and the calls diverted to voice mail, the message was received  loud and clear: he fucked up.  

So now, he’s outside her house, the text’s and call unanswered still, but he persists. And eventually, with a little help from Xander she lets him inside, his heart in his fucking throat as she leads him upstairs to afford them a little privacy, he doesn’t have a fucking clue where to start; i’m sorry seems hollow when what he wants to tell her is how he hasn’t been able to sleep, or eat, or think for fucking weeks; how every time he closes his eyes he sees her, face bloodied, sirens sounding and that all engulfing fear that he was going to fucking lose her before she was even his. He wants to tell her how watching her go upstairs with some guy whose name he didn’t know felt like a soccer punch to the gut; because fuck if almost losing her didn’t just solidify how fucking in love with her, he was, and how much that terrified him. 

But he doesn’t tell her any of that, instead he stands, weight shifting from side to side, a gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach, rocks in his throat making him feel like he can’t fucking breath, and he wonders if this is how Rue feels with them anxiety attacks she gets, and before he can even begin Kat does. 

“So am i a whore or not?”

His head shakes, “c’mon now – i neva meant it like that – i’m sorry - ” he hates this, emotions raw, like every  nerve exposed to an open flame, he sighs heavy and blue eyes flash up to meet her gaze, the faint bruising still a visible reminder of how close he came to losing her that night, and he’s fighting every fibre of his being to close the gap between them and pull her close, kissing every fucking bruise and scar that was left behind; to make her feel safe, and loved.  He’s quiet, but his mind is not, he’d never been good with words; with being vulnerable, it wasn’t a luxury he could afford in his life, but he couldn’t afford to lose her either and he knows he has to say something.

“ Look, Kat – please– ” there’s a pleading in his voice as it breaks on please, “ neva should’a said that – I just  – lost my shit seein’ him all over you like that –” jealously wasn’t something familiar before Kat, it wasn’t an emotion that severed him, it was ugly, and cruel. He’s shaking his head, wishing he could spill his guts; if he could just be fucking honest about his feelings, maybe, just maybe, they’d get somewhere. 

“ he just got me all fuckin’ jealous and shit –” well, it wasn’t  I love you, but it was a start.

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past Chapter 20:

So Ngl I love this chapter, I am a ho for a soft LeLo moment. Hope y’all enjoy 😊 (also you don’t have to listen to the song but I feel like it adds to the moment)

Logan paced the length of his room, back and forth, back and forth wearing a hole in the carpet. He had his lower lip pulled between his teeth, biting, worrying it until it was sore and swollen, his hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously cracking the knuckles over and over again.

He had to say something, he needed to say something. But god, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He hadn’t spoken to Leo aside from the occasional meme, since he ran and hid from him, it had been what? A week? And yet Logan felt like a vital part of himself had been ripped from his body and stolen from him.

Logan huffed an exasperated breath and sat at the foot of his bed, he needed a game plan, things were always easier with a game plan. Mentally Logan began composing a list in hopes that once he had an idea of what to do he would actually do it.

Step 1: Text him and hope that he responds

Step 2: Apologize for nearly accosting him, then running away, then ghosting him (god why are there so many things here?)

Step 3: Hope he accepts the apology

Step 4: …

Then what? Logan groaned at the thought and flopped backwards, what exactly was he trying to accomplish here? Get Leo back into his life as a friend? That didn’t feel quite right and made Logan's stomach clench uncomfortably, but the alternative option filled him with anxiety, all the unanswered questions that pulled up in his brain Logan couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. Well, at least it was the start of a plan, enough to take that first step.

Logan pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and pulled up Leo’s contact.

(You): Hey :waving emoji: whatcha up to?

The moment he hit send Logan dropped the phone face down on his chest, too nervous to watch and see if Leo would read the message let alone respond. Only a second late though it buzzed with an incoming message.

(Sunshine Giraffe): Just finishing up at practice

(Sunshine Giraffe): How about you?

Logan felt his stomach do that weird swoopy thing like it does whenever he goes on a roller coaster as he typed out his next text.

(You): Nothing much RN

(You): You want to go find something to do?

(You): Together?

There was a bit of a pause as he watched the typing bubbles pop up then disappear, in the near minute and a half it took for Leo to respond Logan nearly chucked his phone at the wall, but then he felt it buzz in his hand again.

(Sunshine Giraffe): Sure, that would be nice

(Sunshine Giraffe): You have an idea in mind?

(You): Nothing too special

(You): Meet me at the rink?

(You): We can go explore a bit; I can show you the area?

(Sunshine Giraffe): Sounds like a plan

(Sunshine Giraffe): See you in 15ish?

(You): :Thumbs up emoji:

Logan breathed in deep, step 1 done. He rolled up off his bed before snagging a pair of shoes from his closet and making his way up the stairs to the main area of the house.

“Hey Dumo?” he called out, peeking his head into the living room where Dumo and Celeste were curled up together on their couch.

“Quoi?” he asked looking up.

“Mind if I borrow your car? I’m going to meet a friend.”

“Hmm,” he hummed as if thinking hard about the request, “fine. On one condition though.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Dumo chuckled as he grabbed the keys off the coffee table in front of him, “Stop moping,” with that he tossed the keys through the air for Logan to catch.

“I have not been moping,” he spluttered, making both Dumo and Celeste laugh at his expense.

“Sorry Tremz, but you kinda have,” Celeste said with a mildly sympathetic grin, “for like the last week at least.”

“I- no- I haven’t,” he stuttered at a loss of ways to defend himself, “alright I’m leaving,” he finally said before turning to make his way to the garage.

“Remember no more moping!” Dumo called after him, still chuckling.

When Logan pulled up outside the rink, he spotted Leo sitting on the stone steps leading into the main entrance of the building. At the sight of Leo all wrapped up in his jacket and scarf, beanie pulled low against the chill of the frosty air, Logan felt an odd warmth settle in his stomach. Somehow that warmth seemed to calm the fluttering butterflies inside him as he parked and hopped out of the car.

“Leo!” he called out as he got closer, making the blond glance up and lock his baby blue eyes on Logan.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, standing up from the steps grinning widely.

Jeeze, Logan always forgot how tall he was until he was right next to him, his face tilting upwards basking in the rays of warm sunshine Leo always seemed to radiate.

“So,” Logan said, a bit lamely not entirely sure where to take this conversation. He dug his hands into his pockets just to hide his nervous fidgeting, he knew he needed to apologize but it felt weird to just jump into it right out of the blue and the words seemed to stick in his throat at the thought. “Um, I thought we could walk around for a bit. I can show you some of the best places around here if you want.”

Leo chuckled and held out his hand gesturing to the sidewalk next to them, “well, where you lead I will follow.”

Logan laughed at the little self-satisfied grin on his face, “Did you really just reference the Gilmore Girls theme?”

“What? Who me? Yes, yes I did.”

“Come on, you dork,” Logan laughed again, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the sleeve of Leo’s hoodie and tugged him forward.

Together they began wandering down the sidewalk leading away from the rink, Logan pointed out all the restaurants with the best take out, the little book shop that Finn would always drag him to after practice, the music store where he bought one of his favorite guitars. He could feel the warmth of Leo’s arm brushing against his own as they walked, Logan could feel those soft blue eyes watching him and each time he would glance up Leo would smile tenderly at him.

The sun began to sink along the horizon as they walked,painting the frosty sky in cotton candy and orange sorbet turning the swirling clouds into sugar coated ice cream cones. Eventually the sidewalk led them into a hidden courtyard, a few people resilient enough to brave the cold were sitting at wrought iron tables outside a little Italian restaurant, a makeshift stage had been set up and a typical hipster looking guy with a guitar was strumming a soft tune his voice mingling with the notes to create a soothing melody.

“Hey,” Leo said, nudging Logan, “let’s sit for a bit.”

Logan nodded and followed Leo over to sit at the edge of a stone lined fire pit, the blaze was contained behind an intricately designed wrought iron cage but the heat still bled into their backs as they sat and watched the musician.

“Hey Leo?” Logan said softly, not looking up.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed and tucked his hands under his thighs to stop himself from fidgeting.

“It’s ok,” Leo replied, his voice sounding so earnest.

“No, it’s not,” Logan said, finally looking up, Leo was watching him again with that soft look in his eyes that made something inside his heart melt just a bit. “I shouldn’t have done that, that night. I held you down, took advantage of you. And then I ran away and hid like a scared little child. And then on top of that I couldn’t even nut up enough to text you back.”

“Logan,” Leo’s voice was soft as he reached a hand out and gently brushed a bit of hair off of Logan's face, the light brush of his fingertips made his breath hitch. “Please believe me when I say, it’s ok. You didn’t take advantage of me, I liked you being there. And I mean you’re strong,” he chuckled and glanced down at Logan's body, “but if I didn’t want you on top of me, I very easily could have gotten out of your hold.” Leo let his hand settle at the side of Logan’s neck, the warmth of his palm comforting,“and as for the rest, it’s ok to be scared. It’s ok to not understand the things that you’re feeling. Believe me it’s hard and confusing but it’ll be ok,” his voice tapered to a whisper as he finished speaking.

Logan felt himself crumble at Leo’s words, his eyes fell closed and he couldn’t stop the sigh from falling from his lips. Suddenly, Logan felt like all the energy had drained out of his body, he let himself lean forward to rest his forehead on Leo’s shoulder.

“How are you always so nice?” he asked, he felt Leo chuckle at the words as his fingers tangled into the soft curls that fluffed out under the brim of his snapback.

“It’s my southern charm,” he teased, Leo let his hand wander away from Logan's neck to wrap his arm around his body and tug him just a bit closer into his side.

The two of them sat like that for a while, comfortable in each other’s presence. They let the fire's heat fight away the winter chill as night fell steadily darker and darker around them. The soft music drifted closer on the frosted breeze but with Leo’s warm arms wrapped around him Logan was content to stay right where he was.

Eventually though they did have to leave the little bubble of that hidden courtyard but Logan didn’t want to leave Leo. He had been hiding from him for the last week but after finally finding stability with him again his heart was calling out to be with him as long as possible, so Logan walked with him back in the direction of Finn’s apartment.

“Well…” Logan said softly looking up at Leo’s face when they finally made it to the entrance of the building.

“This is me…” Leo replied, his baby blue eyes watching him tenderly.

“I guess I should get going, I’ll see later Leo.” Logan turned to leave but felt Leo’s hand reach out and grab his arm.

“Wait,” he said, “um… do- do you want to come up?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Logan hesitated remembering that last conversation with Finn, him walking away. “I don’t think Finn really wants to see me right now.”

Leo huffed a soft little chuckle, “I don’t think Finn would ever object to seeing you. Come on, I’ll make dinner.”

“You’re gonna cook?” Logan laughed a bit disbelievingly.

“Why does everyone act like that’s such a surprise?” Leo said tugging Logan a bit closer to the door, “Come up. Please?”

Logan felt warmth bleed into him at the soft sound of Leo’s please , he was suddenly struck by the realization that if he asked it in that voice Logan wouldn’t be able to deny Leo anything.

“Alright, I’ll come with you.”

The smile that split Leo’s face lit up the entire street with sunlight.

Read on ao3

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’ Chapter 3: Netflix and Not-So-Chill

Marvel Highschool! AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 2,927 words

A/N: Hey everyone! Please enjoy this chapter, and these two dumbasses being in love. If you want to be added to the taglist, message me or send an ask, I would love to have more of y’all on there. As always, thank you to @transparentfestivaltiger for editing, because the lord knows I would be absolutely lost without her. Thank you<3

“Y/N, do you want dressing on your salad?” Bucky yelled from the kitchen. However, his question went unanswered, as the shrieks of Becca were much, much, louder. Sighing, he turned off the stove and placed the bowl of lettuce down to run to their shared room. Their shared room. He quickly grinned at this.

Though it was already the second week of staying at Y/N’s house, he still was not used to it. The first week had gone by so hecticly and quickly, with their teachers being absolutely unable to work their devices. Mrs. L/N had made them stay in opposite rooms of the house while they had their separate classes to avoid distraction, but they still texted and sent each other memes. It wasn’t like their teachers could see them anyway. Actually, Bucky had made several appearances in Y/N’s classes, and vice versa. Her mom wasn’t too fond of that, but she realized that nothing would stop the pair of best friends.

The amount of homework Bucky and Y/N received was unbelievable, and both of them complained to the L/N parents daily about how much they hated it. In their English class, they were already beginning to research for a debate that would later turn into an argumentative essay. Y/N had, later that Friday night, flopped down on the bed and yelled profanities at Mr. Barrett.

Returning to the present, Bucky ran to his and Y/N’s shared room to see what the commotion with Becca was. Looking in, he saw Y/N cradling his little sister in her arms, singing softly to her. She seemed to be calming down with the melody of the song, and Bucky smiled. “You two good, Y/N?”

Her head whipped up, and she nodded, still singing to the baby she was holding. “Your singing is pretty, doll.” Her face flushed and she quickly looked back down, shaking her head. She quietly walked over to him and they walked down to the guest room where Becca’s crib was. Bucky took Becca from Y/N and placed her down.

When they finally left the room, she spoke. “I don’t sound pretty, Buck, it’s just for fun.”

He stared at her in amazement, because she really didn’t know how beautiful her voice was. He wanted to say more, but she seemed to be done with the topic, so he dropped it. “Can I help with dinner?”

It was just the two of them in the house tonight, as Y/N’s parents went three hours north to check in on her grandparents. They were at-risk, and couldn’t leave the house, so they decided to stay over the night to help them with shopping and around their house. Bucky had offered to make dinner while they were out, earning him kisses all over his forehead and cheek from Mrs. L/N, Y/N snickering on the side. She had no problems with it though, as Bucky’s stir fry was to die for.

He nodded and turned the stove back on to continue cooking. “If you want you can grab the ranch from the fridge and put it on the salad. I don’t care if we have it or not.

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” As you moved to the refrigerator, you spoke. “I swear to God, I’ll kill Mr. Barrett if he gives us any more research homework. In the first goddamn week, he manages to assign us this bullshit.”

Grinning at her dramatic behavior, he quipped back, “Well, that’s kinda their job, Y/N, they have to give us some type of work to make sure we understand what we’ve learned. Plus, your brain is sorta empty, some knowledge can’t hurt you.”

“Hey!” She frowned and he smiled cheekily at his good-natured insult. Y/N tossed the salad and ranch with a pair of tongs. “You’re just plain rude.”

“Why thank you, doll, I’ll take that compliment to heart.” Their eyes met, but it was held a bit longer than usual. She didn’t regularly give herself the pleasure of staring into his eyes as it would be a little creepy, but she couldn’t help it. Bucky’s grey-blue eyes were always so pretty, and looking into them only further increased her crush on him every damn time. However, the awkward silence and staring got to her. She finally cleared her throat and went to set the salad down on the table, hoping the normalness would return. “Do you wanna sit at the couch or the table?”

“Y-yeah.” Bucky stammered, not really being able to form a sentence.

“That’s not a choice, Buck.” She smirked at him, and he just blushed.

“Let’s eat on the couch and we can watch Netflix while we eat. Is that good with you?” She nodded, and briskly took the salad bowl to the living room. Bucky took the time she was gone to breathe properly. He exhaled deeply, and went back to the stir fry in the pan, which was about ready to be served. Jesus, he was in love with her. Her eyes were fucking beautiful in his view, and he wanted to stare into them forever, for the rest of his life.

He placed the stir fry on two separate plates and walked over to the living room. Y/N sat, well laid, upside down on the couch, legs dangling over the back of it. Bucky placed the plates down on the coffee table and tapped her knee. “Sit up Y/N, time to eat.”

She excitedly rolled off the couch, ungracefully landing with an “oomf” on the ground. “Thank you, Buck, it looks really great.” She grabbed her plate and sat next to him on the couch and lifted his feet onto her lap, so his head could rest against the arm. Grabbing the remote, she asked, “What do you wanna watch? Oh, I actually haven’t seen The Bronze yet, but it’s on Amazon Prime! It has Sebastian Stan in it.” At the mention of her well-known celebrity crush, he rolled his eyes. He definitely wasn’t jealous. Not at all. “Do you wanna watch it?”

Bucky’s eyes widened a little bit when he remembered what he had heard about the movie. After watching some interviews with his best friend’s crush (he needed to see what was so great about his competition), he found out that The Bronze had a very raunchy sex scene in it. His face flushed at the thought of watching it with her. “Buck?”

Realizing he had spaced out in his thoughts, he responded. “Y-yeah, sure, that’s fine.” He grabbed his plate, and settled himself in for an interesting night.

The movie was funny, he had to admit. Melissa Rauch’s loud-mouthed and stubborn character had him laughing with her foul quips and insults. He thought the Lance Tucker dude was a douche, but Y/N didn’t care about that. No, she just continued to thirst over his thighs and abs. However, she also enjoyed seeing Haley Lu Richardson’s performance as Maggie, and Bucky couldn't help but think that the two were very similar in personality. He’d always admired Y/N’s happy and spritely energy, along with her loud mouth and sarcasm. She was caring, and open, and listening, and he loved watching her interact with kids. Her sweetness was what really made him crazy for her. She really was a dream.

Snapping out of his thoughts, once again, he heard her laughing and his lips turned upwards. Bucky looked back at the screen and was instantly filled with fear and panic. Oh, fuck me. It was the sex scene. Lance was backing Hope into a wall while making out.

Sure, he had a lot of making out sessions with his ex-girlfriend, Dot, when they were still dating in the eighth grade, and yes, unfortunately, his mind had gone on to leading it something more, but he was older now. Not by a lot, but breaking up had taught him to not be hasty in everything. He thought that he was absolutely in love with her, and they had moved fast, which probably led to their inevitable break up. If he even managed to have Y/N as his girlfriend, he would take things slowly, because she was the best damn thing he had in his hellhole of a life. However, this scene was absolutely explicit.

Y/N was completely unaware of the sex scene, but as soon as she saw Hope and Lance in the bar, she thought, well, they’re gonna fuck. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Bucky, trying to get his reaction, yet his face stayed extremely neutral. After a whale of this scene, she finally averted her eyes, face red from embarrassment. The fact that this was a sex scene was enough to leave her flustered, but Bucky, her crush, best friend, and boy she was in love with, was right next to her, and she would’ve loved nothing more than to throw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Bucky cleared his throat several times, and when the two finally made eye contact, they turned even more red, if that was even possible.

“So-”

“Do you wanna-”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N and Bucky managed to cut each other off with each sentence. Both of them chuckled. “I’ll turn it off.” Y/N grabbed the remote at lightspeed, and turned the television off.

“Um, I’m gonna take a shower real quick.” He added, gaze directed at the floor.

“Me too. I’ll knock on the door when I need to get my clothes from the room.” They headed off their separate ways, and Y/N thought back to what had just happened. As the warm stream of water hit her back, the events of the last hour ran through her mind. The way Bucky laughed, the way he talked, the way he called her “doll”, the way his ass looked in those jeans…

Realizing her thoughts had run off again, she sighed. Y/N was hopelessly in love with her best friend, and she did not know what  to do about it. He clearly had no interest in her, that was made clear when he dated Dot. That disgusting girl. Dolores was scarily possessive and a nasty human being in general. She went out of her way to give Y/N scalding comments, and she seemed to always have a problem with her and Bucky hanging out, which caused the duo of best friends to drift apart. Thank God they had officially broken it off. Y/N toweled herself off, and tucked the towel right under her arm to walk back to her room.

She knocked on the door with three taps, but received no response. He must’ve still been in the shower, so she opened her door, and stepped in, where she met Bucky's bare torso. Droplets of water raced down his back, and she knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop staring. Finally snapping out of it, she cleared her throat and managed to stammer out, “Hey, Buck, I’m sorry, you didn’t respond so I thought it was okay.” Both of them were flushed, staring at each other, towels still wrapped around their bodies. “I’m, uh, just gonna go now,” Y/N got out, and ran out without another word.

Whew.

Her heart was beating erratically, face flushed, but despite that, she managed to giggle. The situation was so weird. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him shirtless before; they had had their large share of pool and beach days together, but it seemed much more intimate now. Not to mention that they were now fifteen and not eight. Leaning against the wall, she tried to calm her racing heart as Bucky finished dressing. A few minutes later he came out in his NASA hoodie and sweats, and she couldn’t help but to be a bit disappointed. “Hey doll, sorry for not responding, I guess I just didn’t hear it.”

Her brow wrinkled, and she responded, “Oh Buck, it’s not your fault, I was just being dumb. I’ll go get dressed now.” She didn’t hear his meek okay as he watched her towel-clad form disappear behind the door. He sighed, and walked to the guest room, going to check if Becca was okay.

Y/N pulled out an oversized pink sweater and her flannel pants. She threw both of them on and went to walk to Becca’s room. She found Bucky holding his little sister in his arms, singing softly to her. As she came closer to the siblings, she saw that the little girl was wide awake, staring in wonder at her older brother. Becca and Bucky were nearly identical in features, from their complexion to their baby blue eyes. He looked up, still singing, and threw Y/N a small grin. She still found it amazing how after two years, Bucky was still able to be so soft and caring towards his baby sister. Ria would make her cry all the time, but thankfully they had outgrown that phase. Both of the fifteen-year olds sat in tranquility, staring down at the baby for a few minutes until Bucky spoke up.

“Can you grab your ukulele and play?” She was a little confused by his request and cocked her brow at him, until he continued his sentence. “Remember when we would have sleepovers when we were younger, and when I couldn’t sleep, you would play for me?” He smiled fondly at the memory of their nine year old selves sitting on her bed, his head laying in her lap as Y/N softly strummed to “You are My Sunshine”. “I think it would help Becca sleep.”

“Yeah, of course.” She made quick work of getting up and taking her ukulele off of its stand on the wall. She walked back into the guest room and sat next to Bucky on the bed. The smooth coolness of the instrument was familiar in her hands, and her fingers started to play the intro to “Sunflower Vol. 6”.

“No. No Harry Styles. I’m not exposing my sister to his music.” He smiled devilishly at her, knowing about her love for Harry Styles’ music. She gasped dramatically, feigning offense.

“You’re so mean. He is amazing. I would lay down my life for him.” She went through the many memorized songs in her head as he spoke again.

“What about me, doll? Would you lay down your life for me?” He asked this teasingly, but secretly, he really wanted to know.

She heavily sighed and gave him an adoring smile. “Buck, that goes without even saying. You're my best friend.”

Best friend. The word stung both of them, sending little thorns of sadness through both of their hearts. And that’s all we’ll ever be, Y/N thought. For the third time that night, there was a silent tension in the air, so she finally decided to play “With a Little Help from My Friends”. As her voice filled the room, Becca giggled appreciatively, making both of them forget about the previous awkward moment and smile at her antics. Bucky started rocking his sister gently to the beat of the song, and soon enough he joined in singing too. He didn’t sing often, as he thought his voice was the most wretched sound on the planet, but she loved his low baritone. Her parents had commented before on how well their voices complimented each other, but they both just shrugged it off.

As she played the last few chords of the song, Becca’s eyes finally closed and Bucky placed her in the crib. “Well, clearly the Beatles did a little magic there, huh?” Bucky asked. He moved back to the bed where Y/N had already started to play “I Wanna Hold You Hand”. Her face was cast downwards at the strings of her instrument, giving Bucky time to study her face. The moonlight slipped through the curtain and lit up the side of her face, and her still damp hair dangled off her shoulders.

“You’re beautiful.” Bucky didn't even know the words were coming out of his own mouth. Did he say that? Actually? Her confused face staring at him in the face gave him his answer, and his face immediately heated up.

“What?” She whispered.

Well, there was no going back now. “You’re beautiful.” Another time, her stunned face would have made him laugh, as if she didn’t know her own beauty. Her face morphed into one of absolute adoration and she moved her hand up to cup the side of his neck.

“James.” Y/N practically whimpered.

He started to move in, his breathing fanning over her face, and she stared down at his pink lips. Her own tongue darted out to wet her lips, until a sudden thought struck her.

Best friends. That’s all they would ever be. This couldn’t happen. He didn’t like her. At least not as much as she liked him. No, loved him. He couldn’t like her. Bucky had made that perfectly clear when he dated Dot.

Y/N couldn’t let this ruin her most cherished friendship.

Her hand dropped from his neck, and she hopped up from the bed. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she quickly said, “Well, it’s getting pretty late. Is it ten-thirty already? Jeez. Well, I think I’m gonna sleep in my parents room tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bucky. Goodnight.”

She all but dashed out the door, leaving a poor, blue-eyed boy sitting alone on the bed, absolutely heartbroken.

TAGLIST

@transparentfestivaltiger

[animetrashlord-007]

Tumblr Takeover

Word Count;; 2.2k

Genre;; Fluff

Pairing;; Ushijima x Reader

Summary;;

You groaned as you scrolled through your Tumblr profile, glaring at the content that seemed to have no end. What used to be your messy, themeless blog filled predominantly with anime, nightblogging and the occasional debate, now contained volleyball. Only volleyball.

[The cringe is real, folks]

Notes;; Published: 2017-04-06

My Masterlist

   You groaned as you scrolled through your Tumblr profile, glaring at the content that seemed to have no end. What used to be your messy, themeless blog filled predominantly with anime, shitposting and the occasional debate, now contained volleyball. Only volleyball. You slammed your laptop shut before packing your school supplies and running out the door. Your teacher would never let you hear the end of it if you were late for the third day in a row, even if you tried to pass the blame onto a certain third year. It was his fault after all; he altered your entire blog overnight without asking beforehand, and the early morning discovery put you into a temporary state of shock. You growled and quickened your pace - no sane teacher would accept that excuse and you had no intention of gaining detention because of a volleyball-obsessed dork. Once you reached class (on time, much to your amazement), your irritation faded. As much as you hated to admit, it wasn't his fault. You should have expected this to happen sooner or later. You knew what you were getting into when you shared your account with him. He had told you his intentions at the beginning: Ushijima wanted to share his love of volleyball with you and your poor followers.

   It wasn't like you disliked the sport either; you knew your school’s team well enough to attend their matches (with only mild persuasion necessary on their part) and, while you could see the appeal, it wasn't your first pick for a hobby. In fact, it wouldn't be your second or third pick either, but if you had to choose a sport… you might consider it. In all honesty, the thing you enjoyed most about volleyball was the players. Shiratorizawa’s team was determined and they had talent. Somehow your admiration for their abilities had led you to befriending each of them to different degrees. When you saw Tendou in the halls, you’d yell manga references at one another, each quote becoming more obscure than the last, until the bell rang and you both bolted to class. Goshiki did his best to avoid you after watching you challenge Shirabu to an impromptu dance-off, which, to his horror, his upperclassman accepted. Neither of you were being very serious as you dropped it low and pumped it up, laughing at how stupid you both looked, yet Goshiki claimed to be scarred for life. At lunch most days you pretended to study with Yamagata and Ohira whilst spamming Semi with memes and vine compilations. He once blessed you with a response, and had it not been at two in the morning after a long night of studying, you would have been impressed with the video of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” on loop for ten hours. Never in your life would you have suspected to be Rick Rolled by your senpai, but you weren't one to back down from a challenge. Feeling invigorated, you continued to spam him every chance you got. To his regret, that included sending TED talks about asexual reproduction in various species in the dead of night when you were unable to sleep.

   “I think the real question here is why the hell do you watch videos about animal reproduction at midnight every week?” Semi sighed as he wiped the sweat off his brow before throwing his towel at you.

   “Gross! I don't want your stinky towel!” You snapped, tossing it back. You grimaced as you stretched, the obnoxious cracking of several joints resonated throughout the gym. After being hunched over your textbooks for the first half of their practice, it was nice to stand up and move your tired muscles. Goshiki muttered a protest to your presence under his breath, which you elected to ignore.

   “No way, she still sends those to you?” Tendou bellowed, slapping his friend’s back with a grin. The setter shrugged, shooting you glare before walking back onto the court, leaving you with the middle blocker. His grin fell into a devious smirk upon seeing your narrowed eyes. Knowing full well what his mind was focused on and that he had no intention of letting his inquiry go unanswered, you stalked toward the door. He kept pace with you, poking you as he continued, “You can't avoid it that easily.”

   Feigning naivety, you quipped, “I don't watch them, I just send them to Semi to bug him.”

   “Oh, no, no, you don’t. Not that question, the one before that. Why don't you annoy Ushijima like you do everyone else?”

   You allowed a quick smile to flicker across your features before turning to the boy who was still following you to the door and ignoring his coach’s calls to return to the damn court already. Pure bliss flooded your mind as you pursed your lips, hand lifted over your heart in mock despair as your eyes quivered. Giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being on the verge of tears, you whispered, “I annoy you, Satori-kun?”

   “No! Of course not! I just meant-”

   “I'm sorry, Satori-kun, I'll leave you all alone from now on,” a single tear flowed down your cheek and you just about imploded with pride. Who needs to take theatre courses when you have this much natural talent?

   “No, no! Don't cry!” Looking to his teammates for help, he pointed at you with exasperation. His silent pleas were met with snickers as they each turned their back on the scene.

   On the outside, you were a delicate mess. On the inside, however, you were rejoicing. No longer was his mind on why you acted just a touch different with the team’s ace (since evidently nothing slipped past those maroon eyes of his), but rather on how to stop the waterworks that threatened to break before him. All that was left was to run out of the gym, celebrate your narrow escape, and continue to avoid him until you could formulate a believable excuse. You didn't want him to catch on to the small crush you had developed on Ushijima, but more importantly, you didn't want him to know about your Tumblr. He would never let you live down your low-effort blog after he had shown you his organised manga-themed one. Nevermind the the flack you would receive about how much of a pushover you had become to allow Ushijima full reign over it. Perhaps you could lie and say that the third year intimidated you, so you didn't want to push your luck around him. Maybe fortune would favour you and Tendou would drop the subject completely after this disaster. Knowing him, however, that was unlikely.

   “I'll just go, since I annoy you-”

   “What did you do this time?” A gravelly voice resounded across the room. It sent shivers down your spine as you faced the sound. Ushijima towered over you, a mix between confusion and disappointment aimed toward Tendou. The redhead just laughed before running back onto the court.

   “Hey Wakatoshi-kun, did you finish your exam?” You fumbled with your bag strap as you tried to sidle out of his vision. Much to your dismay, his eyes followed you with an intensity that would make a weaker person crumble.

   “What did he do?” Reiterating his question with a deepening frown, he moved in front of the door and blocked your escape.

   “Oh, you know Tendou-kun. Everything he does is annoying. Well, I've got to go!”

   “Before you leave, did you see our Tumblr? I changed it a little.”

   “A little?” You repeated, bitterness tainting the smile you flashed toward him, “You changed it more than a little, Ushijima-kun. My favourite part of it would have to be the ask from a mutual about why I'm suddenly a volleyball blog, and if I'm sharing my account because it seemed even more all over the place than usual and I just loved waking up to a new theme as well. Yes, it was very nice, Ushiwaka-kun, very nice.”

   “You should try regulating your breathing, you look flustered. I am glad you liked it, however. I spent a decent amount of time on it,” he nodded, brushing past you to join his team in their practice. Unbelievable.

   “Oi, you! We're not done here! I'll be calling you tonight, so, uh, prepare yourself!” You shouted after him, huffing at his thumbs-up. A tinge of pink painted the tips of your ears when Semi and Shirabu smirked at you, which bloomed into a full blush at Tendou’s, “You can call on him anytime!”

   The rest of the day whirled by in a blur. You couldn't procrastinate on Tumblr without being reminded of your new theme, which turned off your desire to slack off in general. You finished your homework early, then you finished next week’s as well. Something seemed off, but you didn't stop to question it - you were motivated to work for once and you didn't want to jinx your flow. Even after finishing two essays, you had time to kill before you could call Ushijima. Since he was tardy to practice, he would undoubtedly stay late to make up the lost time. Heading to the kitchen, you grabbed out the ice cream and threw yourself down on the couch. With nothing left to do, binge-watching Netflix would feel rather guilt-free for once. Your relaxation was cut short when you heard a knock at the door.

   “I don't want to buy your shit, go away!”

   “It's Ushijima,” a palpable pause, “and I'm not selling anything. I have your textbooks. You left them in the gym.”

   You groaned at your own stupidity. How could you have let Tendou work you up enough to abandon your textbooks? On top of that, you allowed your desire to scold Ushijima to blind you to your obvious lack of study material. Without it, the likelihood of errors had increased exponentially. You smacked yourself with a pillow; now you would have to double-check all your homework. Anxiety tickled your numbing thoughts as you turned off the television. You didn't make any effort to meet him at the door, “Ugh, just come in already.”

   He offered a nod in acknowledgement as he entered the living room and placed the books on the table. He sat down next to you, smiling as he grabbed the dessert from your hands. You were used to him being in your home after many an afternoon spent showing him how to use Tumblr. What came as a surprise was watching him eat the ice cream. Most days he would return it to the freezer, disregarding your pleas. You took the chance to observe him while his own gaze fell to the carpeted floor. The embodiment of a proper gentleman, he maintained perfect posture. He was still in his school uniform, and he always looked tense in it, but he seemed to loosen up when he was in your home. You knew he had taken a shower at the school, which he usually did after practice, because his hair had been styled once more. You always appreciated how the minty scent of his body wash lingered throughout your house even after he left. His clothes seemed tighter, clinging to his damp skin, providing an even more exquisite view of his muscles. Eyes falling to his legs, you let your mind wander and toy with the notion of seeing those thighs bare of clothing. You didn't notice when he turned to you at last, still lost in your own somewhat perverted thoughts. Coughing to gain your attention, he cocked an eyebrow, “Enjoying yourself?”

   “Shut up, you smell nice.”

   He blinked, a tinge of red dusting his cheeks, before continuing, “What did you want to talk about?”

   “I was going to call you. You didn't need to arrive at my house unannounced and start eating my food,” you mumbled, hitting his arm, “but I wanted to talk to you about getting your own Tumblr. Or, I guess since you already took over mine, I could start a new one.”

   “Why?”

   “What do you mean why, doofus? When I showed you my Tumblr, I didn't intend for you to take it over. I just thought you might want to see that someone posted one of your matches and it was getting notes,” you sighed, hitting his arm again. He chuckled at the effort, lifting a spoon of the frozen dessert to your lips. You swore under your breath as your cheeks exploded with crimson heat upon swallowing the treat.

   “I'm sorry,” he placed the tub of ice cream on the table before facing you once more, taking your hands within his, “You mentioned how your blog was personal to you, and I enjoyed that you shared it with me. I enjoy spending time you.”

   “Oi, you can't just say things like that! Dammit, Bakatoshi! You're making me blush!” You slapped his arm once more, earning an amused grunt from the attractive volleyball-obsessed idiot. He leaned in to you, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear.

   “It was nice having something that was ours,” You could feel his breath on your lips as he caressed your cheek. Your heart skipped a few beats, waiting for him to make his move.

   “Geez, just kiss me already, Wakatoshi-kun!” You closed the gap, lips smashing against his. If he was surprised by your forwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead he entwined his fingers within your hair, returning the kiss with equal passion. Patience was never one of your strong suits, not that either of you were complaining.

[bkdk-writings-dump]

Do you know that "I'll cut you lr throat, that'll shut you up!" "You're beautiful" meme? I think it'd look really cute with barbarian!izuku (king? Maybe?) and explorer!kacchan (i love your writing btw c:)

Omg I’m so sorry, I completely didn’t see that you wanted their roles switched until just now… I hope you still like it with barbarian!Katsuki and explorer!Izuku. ((Off to a real good start here lol. Hopefully I didn’t mess up any of the other ones…))

A New Adventure

Izuku walked through the forest, map in his hands, sword on his hip, and alchemist’s supplies in his backpack. He’d set out to find adventure in the wilderness a few weeks ago, and while he’d been following trails known to him in his maps and books for the most part, he’d taken a wrong turn earlier that day and slowly found himself in more and more unfamiliar territory, unable to find his way back to where he started. It was getting dark by then, the forest dimming as the sun set over distant mountains, the sounds of birds chirping turning into crickets, then hisses and flutters of wings as the sky turned completely black along with Izuku’s surroundings. He lit a lantern, trying to press on through the evening, but it seemed that every step he took he heard some noise to his left or to his right that startled him. He’d see glowing dots between the trees, and thinking they were eyes, turn and run in the other direction. He realized after a while of running and cowering aimlessly, that he hadn’t even looked at his map in hours, there was no hope of getting back to the trail today. And yet, he was too scared to make camp, so he just kept walking.

He heard a crunch and a snap behind him then, and whipped around to see what it was. The light of his lantern caught the edge of what looked like a person running for cover in the shadows, and Izuku gasped.

Was he being followed?

“Hello?” he called out against his better instincts, but no answer came. Gulping, he turned back around and kept walking, making it a short way before he heard a rustling sound to his right and turned to look, once again startled. He could have sworn he saw the same humanoid figure from before, but this time he couldn’t be sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

“Is someone there? W-why are you following me?” Izuku nervously asked, but his words disappeared into the darkness, once again unanswered.

Shaking his head, he told himself it was just his scared brain thinking he saw something that wasn’t there, and continued on. He made it for quite a while without any disturbance after that, until he heard a twig snap to his left this time, and foolishly ran towards it without thinking, trying to find the elusive person.

“I know you’re there!” he called out, weaving through bushes into a clearing, following the noise. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

Just then, he heard a noise behind him, but before he had time to turn around, he was kicked in the back and knocked to the ground.

“Oof!” the wind was knocked out of him and his lantern tumbled from his hand, landing a few feet away in the grass. He flipped himself over, trying to reach for his sword, when the person stepped forward, putting a foot on his chest and drawing their own blade to warn him to stay still.

“Shut up, stupid human,” they said, drawing Izuku’s attention up their muscular form, noting the bare, bead-covered chest, fluffy fur cape, and stripes of face paint until he saw those glaring, bright red eyes. It was a man, blonde and broad-shouldered, with a sharp jaw and even sharper teeth, dressed like a member of the barbarian tribes Izuku had read about somewhere. He vaguely remembered reading about how protective they were over their territory, known to violently slaughter trespassers, but all logical thought was swept from his mind when he looked up into the man’s eyes; he was the most beautiful thing Izuku had ever seen.

“Why are you in my territory, huh? What do you think you’re doing, just walking around here like you own the place? Shouting about being followed?” the man spat, his blade pointed right at Izuku’s neck, the tip touching the skin there ever-so-slightly. “I’ll slit your throat! That’ll shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful,” Izuku breathed out the words without thinking, too enraptured by the man’s sharp features.

“Hah?” the man startled back, cheeks burning bright red, and Izuku blinked in surprise, finally realizing what had just happened.

“Ah, I…” he started, not sure how to explain, but the man was covering his face in his hand, grumbling something to himself and not even looking at Izuku.

“F-fine!” he suddenly shouted, startling Izuku into putting his hands up in a defensive position. “I’ll let you get away this time… but if I see you in my territory again, you’re dead, get it?” he said, drawing a thumb across his throat.

“Y-yes,” Izuku nodded.

“Good,” the man huffed, cheeks still faintly pink as he looked Izuku over one last time before turning to disappear back into the forest.

“Ah, w-wait!” Izuku called out, standing up as quickly as his shaky legs would let him. The man looked back, red eyes glowing from the shadow of a tree on the edge of the clearing.

“Could you tell me… what’s your name?” he asked.

The man paused, looking down, then back up at him.

“Katsuki. Katsuki Bakugou,” he said before fully disappearing into the dark forest.

Izuku smiled to himself, putting his hands over his fast-beating heart.

“Katsuki…” he whispered to himself, giddy with infatuation, excitement, and fear all mixed into one dangerously addictive feeling. He had a new adventure now, and his name was Katsuki Bakugou.

[chaoticspacefam]

OC Interview Meme - Saarai Ahaszaai

I was tagged for this again by @deepseacritter, thank you! <3

I think all my mutuals have already been tagged multiple times for this so I’m not gonna add any more specific ones, but if you’re reading this and you wanna do it (or do it again), then feel free to say I tagged you! Yes, I promise I mean you!

Saarai, this time, because I highly doubt Ni’kasi would even turn up to an interview unless someone bribed her XD Rai’s quite happy to talk about things though~

-The Pureblood that strolls in looks a lot taller than the HoloNet cameras have made her seem in the past, she has to duck to get herself through the doorway, mumbling something about “architechts needing to pay more attention to tall people when designing doorways”, before offering the interviewer an apology as she accepts the microphone and pins it to the collar of her robe and takes her seat-

? Name ?  -Though she is tall and imposing at first glance, she seems to exude a very calm, friendly aura as she answers the first of the questions, lounging in the chair in a very casual manner, as if they were having a conversation in someone’s living room and not in a studio- “Saarai Ahaszaai. You can call me Rai, if it’s easier for you.”

? Are you single ? “Wouldn’t you like to know~?” -Saarai hums teasingly, even winking a little at the woman across from her- “But no, and I’m not really looking to add anyone else to the circle right now.”

? Are you happy ?  “Pretty content, yeah!”

? Are you angry ? -the playful smirk fades and she looks slightly worried for a moment- "I don’t look angry, do I? I’m not, I promise.”

? Are your parents still married ? -She smiles again, but this time it is partly sad, and partly wistful- "They’ve both been dead a great many years now. But, I suppose...wherever they went afterwards, they probably still are, yes. From what I do remember of them when we were little, they loved eachother very, very much and I think if there is somewhere we go when we die, that wouldn’t change.”

NINE FACTS

? Birth Place ? “Hah! I don’t think there are many people now that know the name. We call it “Nathema”, now, but...it was very much different when we were little. We spent a lot of time on Dromund Kaas, though, more than at “home” home.”

? Hair Color ?  "I believe you’d call this a sort of dark scarlet?” -she flicks an errant strand back into place over her shoulders-

? Eye Color ? “Yellow, as you can see.” -she leans down a little closer to the camera, to give a better view of them for a moment before straightening up-

? Birthday ? -this question makes the Pureblood throw her head back, teeth glinting in the artificial studio lights as she laughs heartily- "Didn’t your mama teach you it was rude to ask a lady her age, dear? Old enough, I assure you~”

? Mood ? "Content, amused. A little hungry, I didn’t eat before I came here, realising now I probably should have, but oh well!” -the interviewer shifts uncomfortably in her seat, although the phrase was not presented as threatening itself, it wasn’t difficult to notice how sharp those teeth are and they’re clearly uneasy at the thought...-

? Gender ? "Female. Simple as that, nothing extra to add to that one.”

? Summer or winter ? "Summer, absolutely.” -Saarai’s answer is almost immediate, and as she speaks about the cold she visibly shudders- “I don’t do well in winter, far too cold for me. Nopeeee.”

? Morning or afternoon ? "Early morning is best, just as the sun is rising. It’s very beautiful, almost peaceful.” -she smiles once again, as relaxed as ever-

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE -She quirks a browstalk in surprise, but sinks back into the seat and nods a little, as if giving the interviewer permission to continue-

? Are you in love ? -She answers without hesitation- "Yes, I am. They’re both amazing.”

? Do you believe in love at first sight ? "Mmmhh, yes.” -Saarai has to consider this question in a little more detail before she can truly give an answer, nodding slowly- “I suppose that I do. But I’ve been told by my sister that I have a habit of “falling for people too easily”, as she calls it, so perhaps that has something to do with it.”

? Who ended your last relationship ? "It was a mutual separation.” -the Pureblood shrugs simply, not seeming awfully upset by it- “She and I wanted different things and we realised it just wasn’t going to work out, so we broke it off.”

? Have you ever broken someone’s heart ? "Not intentionally, but it would be wrong of me to assume that it’s never happened at all.”

? Are you afraid of commitments ? -this time, Saarai snorts, partly in amusement with perhaps a slight undertone of annoyance- "No. I’m not. It’s absolutely possible to be committed to more than one person at a time and I assure you I’m perfectly equipped to do just that.”

? Have you hugged someone within the last week? -Her demeanour softens almost instantly at this question and she smiles warmly- “Yes. My sister, and my son, and my partners. Why, did you need one? I’m told I give good hugs, pointy bits aside.”

? Have you ever had a secret admirer ? "Not that I’m aware of, but I suppose that’s what makes them a secret admirer, eh?”

? Have you ever broken your own heart? -the gentleness vanishes from her eyes and they lock with the interviewer’s intensely. While the gaze itself is not threatening, it’s very clear that she doesn’t wish to talk about this topic further and would like to move on- “Yes. Twice.”

SIX CHOICES

? Love or lust ? -She seems relieved to have left the previous topic unanswered, her smile slowly returning as she continues- “Definitely love over lust. Lust without the love is a very empty, lonely thing.”

? Lemonade or iced tea ? "Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever had either?” -Saarai’s browstalks pull downwards into a thoughtful frown as she concludes- “Iced tea sounds...interesting, though. I’d probably try that.”

? Cats or Dogs ? “Again, I’ve never had either, but if I had to pick one, I guess a cat sounds nice.”

? A few best friends or many regular friends ? "Why not both? I wouldn’t tell regular friends things I told my best friends, but that doesn’t make them not my friends.”

? Wild night out or romantic night in ? "Romantic night in.” -she huffs softly and shakes her head- “I don’t mind a drink or two every now and then, but I’d much rather be at home with my partners.”

? Day or night ? -She smiles wistfully again- “Night time. Before he died, my father used to take my sister and I outside to stargaze when we were little. Doing that now reminds me of him.”

FIVE FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

? Been caught sneaking out ? "Caught? No, I haven’t.”

? Fallen down/up the stairs ? -the Pureblood’s browstalks shoot upwards and she looks somewhat accusing, this time- “What did Aria tell you? That was one time! One!”  

? Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? "More often than I’d like to admit.” -Saarai snorts in amusement, shaking her head to herself- “I believe you’d call me a “hopeless romantic”, if you will.”

? Wanted to disappear ? -She looks down a little, but eventually does meet the interviewer’s gaze again- "Yeah. I suppose I did. It seemed like it would’ve been easier, at the time.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

? Smile or eyes ? "Both?”

? Shorter or Taller ? "Usually shorter, that’s just...easier, at the end of the day.” -with how tall she is, this answer was to be expected-

? Intelligence or Attraction ? “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find intelligence very attractive...”

? Hook-up or Relationship ? "Long-term? A relationship. I get attached easily, but I’m not above a few one-nighters here and there, if the opportunity presents itself~”

FAMILY

? Do you and your family get along ?  "My twin sister and I are, yeah. I haven’t seen my uncles for a very long time, but I’d like to think we’re still close and we’ll see each other again sometime soon.” -she smiles gently- “And my son, of course. He knows he can come to me for anything. But, that’s it...that’s the family, or what’s left of us anyway.”

? Would you say you have a “messed up life” ? -the Pureblood tilts her head, going quiet for a long-ish while- “By Sith standards, I suppose no. Not with the way the Empire’s been these days. In terms of how it affected me? A little, but I picked myself back up and we’re doing okay.”

? Have you ever ran away from home ? “I don’t consider it running from home. I ran from the place that used to be home, because it stopped being that way. I’m home now.“

? Have you ever gotten kicked out ? "Nnnn, nah. I’m gonna say no, on this one.”

FRIENDS

? Do you secretly hate one of your friends ? -Saarai hesitates before answering this time, worrying at her lip with one of her fangs- "I don’t know whether I would say “hate”, that’s a very strong word. But “dislike”, yeah, one of them a little.”

? Do you consider all of your friends good friends ? "Most of them, though I trust a few more than others.”

? Who is your best friend ? "Probably Ni’kasi. Or Koth. Can I say both of them? I don’t know if I can pick.”

? Who knows everything about you ? "Ni’kasi again. She’s been in my life the longest, I mean, we’re twins so...that’s kind of a given isn’t it?”

[aparticularbandit]

From your deathless reblog: "I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go" for Roisa please!

DEATHLESS ♚ SENTENCE MEME

Below is the less morbid version.  It still isn’t super fluff, but I may do a fluff one later because still have an idea for that.   This!  also has an AO3 copy if you find it easier reading them there!

You can find the morbid version here, but keep in mind that it has trigger warnings for graphic burn descriptions and a passing mention of suicidal ideation.

Luisa sits at the computer for what feels like the thousandth time since Rose’s disappearance – no, not since her disappearance, it’s been longer than that, this feels like the thousandth time since she was kidnapped and Rose reached out to her with a link to a chat room that must have been designed specifically for them.  She hadn’t known that Rose knew a web designer.  (She hadn’t known a lot of things about Rose.)

Her eyes scan what remains of their chat.  Most of the message delete themselves within 48 hours, so there’s only so many she can read through.  She remembers, though, a lot of what she’s asked and a lot of what she’s been told. Still, there’s one question that remains unanswered – one that she feels like she’s asked over and over, every time it disappears unanswered from the chat, only to have Rose avoid it entirely.

Why are you still in contact with me? she types, noting that it has disappeared.  Someone could catch you – us!  Isn’t this bad for you?

Rose won’t respond immediately.  She rarely does, unless they’ve set a time to meet, and it would only be by chance for her to be on now, when Luisa is and they aren’t supposed to meet for another few hours.  But Luisa wants the message to be there, waiting on her, the first thing Rose sees when she gets on.  She can’t avoid it when it’s like that.

Of course, Luisa has told herself this before.  It isn’t true.  Rose just pretends to not be there until she, too antsy and anxious to begin their communication, writes something else, and then the question is ignored and forgotten.

But she’s determined.

This time, Rose will answer her.  She will have her answer.  She’s not sure she can wait for it any longer.

 ~

Luisa sits at the computer for what feels like the thousandth time since Rose’s death, and she knows that it has only been a week – if that. She’s not sure it’s even been a full week.  Time doesn’t flow the way it normally does.  Everything feels faster and slower at the same time.  Sometimes Jane’s voice sounds like chipmunk speak, and sometimes Rafael’s speaks so slow that she knows he’s making words, but she can’t make out what they are.  Then everything snaps back, and they’re speaking like normal, and they look at her like she’s crazy and missing something – and she is missing something, but she’s not crazy, she’s just having a hard time with all of this.

The computer is easier.

Texts are easier.

Letters usually stay in one place.  Time can speed up or slow down, and she can still read words the same way. Sound is weird, motion is weird, but words stand still.

Of course, she’ll realize three hours later that it’s taken her three hours to read a text and that she was expected to respond three hours ago and hasn’t, which leads to a lot of apologizing because she can’t seem to stay in one time.

No, she does stay in one time, but the time is always the present and never the past, and she wants to be in the past.

She wants to close her eyes and see a living Rose, not one turned into a human shish-kabob.  But when has the world ever really cared what she wants?

Luisa sits at the computer for what feels like the thousandth time since Rose died, and she takes a deep breath, and she has no idea how long it has been or how many times she has actually looked at the computer – maybe more, maybe less, time is a construct and she’s just stuck in the middle of it – but when she opens it this time, flicking to her email out of idle habit, not because she really wants to see anything or expects to see anything, but there’s an abstract hope for something – and there it is.

Another email with another link to another chatroom, and her heart freezes.

Time freezes.

It’s been doing that a lot lately, though, so it’s not really a her issue so much as she feels herself drifting to the past even though she’s certain she’s in the present and there’s no way that email really exists.

No.

She’s logged into the wrong one.

Rose had made her create a new email address once they began to live in the Caymans, and she’d switched everything over to that one.  She’s logged into the old one out of habit, and there’s the email.  The old one.

She knows that the chatroom doesn’t exist anymore – Rose had destroyed it as Susanna when she’d revealed its existence to the detectives – but she still clicks on it out of a longing for something.  Even if the chatroom does still exist, all of their old messages would be gone.  It’s been a lot longer than 48 hours since the last time they’ve used that chatroom.  Everything would have erased itself by now.

It’s probably better that way.  If the chatroom still existed, Luisa’s sure that she would spend hours reading and rereading through their old messages, trying to find something – an inkling of anything – that might suggest….

No.  There isn’t anything to suggest.  Rose is dead. Rose loved her, and Rose is dead, and the only thing she would get from reading these messages over and over again would be eternal guilt for killing the woman who actually loved her, so maybe it’s better that they’re gone and the chatroom doesn’t exist because it means she can’t use it to hurt herself.

Except that the chatroom opens.

It does exist.

Maybe Rose had only kept the link from working in the police station. Maybe it would have worked if Luisa’d tried to log in at the Marbella afterwards.  But she’d never thought that was even possible, so she’d never tried.

Until now.

Luisa stares at the chat before her, blinks blankly at it, and reads the message written there.

Ask again.

Luisa stares at the words and stares at the words and tries to make them make sense and they don’t.  Maybe this is another one of those time constraints – time is playing with her mind again – trying to make her think that she’s—

Her eyes narrow.  She doesn’t shove the computer back – there’s no way of knowing when the message was sent, and if it only lasts for 48 hours, then it’s better that she answers sooner rather than later.  If the message disappears before she says anything, she’s not certain that she’ll say anything at all.  She’ll probably convince herself that there was never any message at all, and that isn’t true either – there it is, right there in front of her.

Why are you doing this? Luisa types, hesitant, fingers hovering over each key before she presses it.  You could get caught!  Wouldn’t that be horrible?

Worse now than it would have been then, if this is really Rose.  She’s finally convinced everyone that she’s dead. Getting caught would be…would be devastating.

But there’s no way Rose is on right now.  They were never on at the same time.  Not unless they’d planned it, and there’s no plan here.  Luisa hadn’t even known to log on.  This is all an accident.  She doesn’t know if it’s a happy one or not yet.

(It’s a happy one.  If it’s real. If she isn’t just making all of this up.)

She stares at the screen for what feels like – no, she doesn’t know, time is a myth, and she’s just living through it, there’s no way of knowing how long she has been sitting here staring at the screen and puzzling over everything – before, finally (or immediately?) there is a reply.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

Luisa reaches out as though to touch the screen.  Then her fingers flinch away, uncertain.  She reaches forward and touches the screen anyway, tracing the words.  Again, she doesn’t know how long she looks at the words, hearing them as though Rose is saying them aloud, brushing her fingers through her hair and tucking it back behind one ear.  She doesn’t check the time.  Is Rose dealing with this, too?  That shift from slow to fast to the right speed?

No.  Rose can’t be.  Rose doesn’t grieve the way she does. (Rose would grieve losing her. Rose is using an old chatroom that she knows Luisa believes to be destroyed to try and communicate with a ghost of her.  Maybe Rose is grieving.  Maybe this is how – talking to ghosts the same way that Luisa does, only not the same way that Luisa does. Because look – here Luisa is, responding to her, when Luisa’s ghosts, if they respond, are never quite real.)

How long have you been doing this?

She knows the answer before Rose sends it: Since I died.

Luisa stares at the word, and it feels like her mind still doesn’t quite comprehend it.  Her skin grows cold – colder than it normally is, frigid, freezing, dead – and before she can think, she answers, I killed you.  Why would you want to talk with me?

You killed me once, and I did not die.  Why did you think this time would be any different?

And again, that blank staring, that not quite comprehending, until, finally, she sends through, Where are you?

There’s a long enough time between her question and Rose’s response that Luisa can feel the weight of it on her shoulders, pushing down on them until she cannot bear it anymore.  And yet, she stays where she is, staring at the screen, at the flickering blink of the cursor on her screen, even though she won’t send anything else.  She keeps her fingers still, refuses to send anything to take that back – You don’t have to tell me, I’d understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me, maybe third time’s the charm, but I understand if you don’t want a liability such as me around anymore—

Rose sends her a location, and Luisa goes.

 ~

You would think that in such a situation, time would speed up, but it doesn’t. If anything, it feels like time travels slower, lingering and lingering.  Luisa can almost hear the cars around her honking at her to speed up. They aren’t – she’s traveling at the right speed, she knows she is – and yet the feeling of everything dragging on around her, holding her back, refusing to let her move forward to meet Rose weighs on her almost as much as the minutes waiting for Rose’s response did.

But not enough, not nearly enough, and that’s the point of it, isn’t it, that as much as time tries to drag her back to the worst moment in her past (and there are a lot of bad moments, but this is the worst, isn’t it, because this one is her fault, and this one is a repeat of a mistake she’s already made once, only she hadn’t learned, had she?  She hadn’t learned).  Time tries to keep her centered in that moment, and here she is, trying to force herself out and away to something that will clear her mind and bring time back to its normal, proper state of being, and time refuses to let her.

She will win over time, in the end.  She knows she will.

Even without this, even if this is all only a dream, in the end, even time will return to normal.  Everything does, eventually.  She won’t move on, but she’ll move on enough.  If she lets go.

But Rose’s truth is her own – she cannot keep her, and she cannot let her go.  No matter how hard she tries – no matter how many time Rose dies – no matter how many times they live this pattern over and over again, they return to it, they repeat it.

This time – this time, she’ll break the cycle.  They’ll break the cycle.  She doesn’t know how – it doesn’t quite matter how – only that it breaks, only that it breaks, only that it breaks.

 ~

There’s almost an hour of driving that feels like a small eternity before Luisa’s purple PT Cruiser sidles into the motel parking lot.  (Of course, it would be this car – the same car she’d “crashed” to put herself in the hospital, the same car she’d “crashed” to lure Rose out of hiding all those years ago, the same car she’d “crashed” that led to Rose’s first, equally less fatal death.  It’s the best car she’s ever had, and it’s the worst car she’s ever had – but that isn’t its fault, in the end, is it?  It’s all her own fault.)

Over a decade, and the motel is abandoned.  No one really stays here unless they need a place to stop after a long drive on the freeway – just a place to rest before getting up and going on their way again.  There are too many other, slightly nicer and no less pricier hotels along this strip of land.  This one just faded into obsolescence.

That isn’t why they chose it, that first time so long ago, but it’s certainly factoring into why Rose is choosing it now.

(No, it isn’t.  It isn’t factoring into her choice at all.  Rose chose this motel for the same reason she sat staring at a chatroom that shouldn’t exist anymore, waiting on answers from someone who wouldn’t know to log in and check for messages – it’s the haunting feeling of the thing, sitting in the middle of her chest, causing her to live and relive old moments in an attempt to win them back, to return to a past that she couldn’t – can’t – recapture.  Only Rose is succeeding where the great Gatsby failed – she’s returning to the past.  She’s bringing it back to her.  But where Daisy never stayed with Gatsby, Luisa is determined, this time, to stay with Rose.  But Daisy was determined to stay with Gatsby, too.  It is what it is.  Right now, she needs Rose.  She needs her.  To bring time back to normal.)

She fights the clenching in the pit of her stomach as she steps out of the car. It’s dark now.  She doesn’t know what time it is, and the time doesn’t matter, only that it’s dark.  She’s okay with the dark.  So many of their meetings have been at secret locations such as this, in the dark just like this.  Why should this one be any different?  Just because they had full years of light and anywhere and everywhere – with Rose in a mask, sometimes, so not open because they have never been able to be open about anything, not entirely, not with anyone other than themselves, not with the people who are supposed to matter—

Supposed to matter as though they somehow don’t matter when they very clearly do matter but the choice has always broken her heart.

She doesn’t even have to knock on the door.  It’s the only room with lights on, barely noticeable from the freeway as covered with curtains and blinds the way that they are, but this close, it is impossible for Luisa – looking, searching – to not see them.  There’s a flicker at them as she approaches – Rose would have seen her headlights, must have seen her headlights, and gone to look, to check – and seeing her, there’s only another moment – another small eternity – and the door opens.  It must open quickly, Luisa knows Rose well enough to know that it opens quickly, but she sees only that hesitant pause of time trying to stand still and unable to do so, and it feels as though this is a door in a horror movie, creaking and creaking and creaking like the fan in their house on the Caymans used to creak, a sound that she knows Rose hates, so there’s no way this door would creak, and then—

Rose.

Her heart beats, and it keeps time better than time does, because here is Rose, and here is her breath coming through her parted lips, and if time wants to slow down for a moment – or forever – but let them maintain their own time as separate and real and present – then she won’t mind in the slightest.

Rose opens the door and welcomes her in, and Luisa thinks she will never leave again.

[harkasun]

Fic meme

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

***

Thank you to @bidnezz for tagging me; I really appreciate the inclusion!

I’ve written a ton (I have almost 100 documents in a malec fic folder on my laptop), but I don’t end up publishing a lot of them, so I don’t have a lot to choose from. I’ve only been posting on AO3 since the start of the year, but this looks fun, so:

1. Anything for a Quiet Life

Stuck working at his sister’s café in downtown Brooklyn, Alec Lightwood submits under the demanding wishes of his medieval-minded parents, until a over-dressed biker that Alec has been avoiding for years finally catches his eye. Magnus Bane is a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and, while Alec himself is hardly an open book, he is determined to understand Magnus and his mysterious past.

In which two tightly-wound men from drastically different worlds uncover one another and may just discover themselves along the way.

This was my first fic on my AO3 and the reaction it got was so inspiring and motivating. Before this, I just had WIPS that I never published. This was my start. It took up two pages in a notebook (including some haphazard sketches). The people who read it were so supporting and kind and made me feel so welcome into the writing community. I have @bakedgoose to thank for convincing me to post it, so thank you! Honestly, without you, I probably never would have done it.

2. An Angel in Marble

Magnus Bane is a struggling art student searching for inspiration on his final piece. Alec Lightwood is a suffering law student caught in a tangle of lies to protect himself from an oppressive family.

With the ghosts of his past at his back and a journal filled with so many unanswered questions under his arm, Magnus works through his creative slump and simultaneously fights to save Alec from a terrible fate. Chipping away at Alec’s hard exterior is a laborious task, but Magnus seeks out truth and yearns for life and the young law student may yet help him in uncovering his masterpiece.

My big, artistic follow-up to ‘Anything for a Quiet Life’. This is a ‘malec fake-dating on a Lightwood family skiing vacation’ fic. It’s still in progress and still has a lot of chapters to complete, but I wanted to include it just because it’s really important to me. I think I’m maturing as a writer from doing it and I’m actually kind of proud of this one and how it’s progressing.

3. Homecoming

Alec is a solider in the US army on tour in Iraq and due to come home in two weeks. Magnus is his fiancé back in New York, prepared to spend his birthday alone as he waits anxiously for Alec's return. A kind fate and a good-hearted Isabelle has a surprise for him.

Wrote this one through tears in about an hour after watching some soldiers coming home from war videos on YouTube. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but a commenter requested Alec’s POV, so chapter 2 was born and I’m so glad it was. I never received a request for writing before and I really enjoyed it!

4. High Warlock of Alicante

Magnus struggles with the return to the hectic life of a High Warlock and the new setting of Alicante. Alec comes to his rescue.

My first fic for the 5 Months of Shadowhunters Challenge was a tribute to my favourite character (Magnus) and probably my favourite fic of that series. I have @izzymalec to thank for making this happen. I’m getting so much more writing published because of this challenge (as well as a few edits!) and I’m really enjoying taking part in it, so thank you.

5. Roses are Red

It's February fourteenth and Alec has arranged a surprise for Magnus. They celebrate their first Valentine's Day as husbands, and as a couple. Featuring a romantic date around NYC and a blast from the past now shown in a better light.

I wrote this on February 13th when I realised it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow and I wanted to honour my boys. It’s inspired a few WIPs since then, which have so far gone unpublished, but hopefully I’ll finish and publish them eventually.

***

This kind of ended up as just me roasting myself about how I write constantly but never get anything published. I wish I was happier with more of my writing. I think I’m getting there, but we have a ways to go yet. I’ve seen a lot of people have done this already, so I won’t bug anyone with re-tagging, but if you see this and want to take part, then please do!

[lowkeyhockey]

stronger than my demons - nolan patrick

Pairing: Nolan Patrick/University Student!Reader

Mentions: Travis Konecny

Warnings: Description of depression and anxiety, curse words. Does not follow the “canon timeline” of this season (:

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Nolan makes a bad day better. He always does. 

* * * * * * * * * *

With Nolan gone, without his arms to hold you firm, you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the pink-tinted hours of the pre-dawn and wake around noon. You wake and immediately try to remember what time your thoughts had finally decided to take a break, to give you a break. There’s no way you’d gotten a full night’s rest, or even a half night’s rest — but maybe you’d gotten enough that you wouldn’t feel a failure at even sleeping.

When your mind decides to race ahead of you the way it’s been doing lately, it always feels like your own brain is a whole other entity from you, like it’s an enemy you just can’t seem to beat. How are you supposed to beat yourself, anyway? In what universe would you not end up the loser, however the battle ends up going?

You wake with resentment heavy on your tongue, thick in the back of your throat, you wake cold and alone and praying for the clock on your bedside table to show you an hour closer to dusk because that would at least mean that you have fewer hours of the day to get through.

But you wake at noon, with the sun directly overhead as though judging you for your sins — and that means you haven’t missed Nolan’s lunchtime call. He never misses it, calls exactly once at half past twelve whenever he’s away. Doesn’t matter if he’s just out for lunch with Travis or if he’s mid-roadie. He calls. Just once, though, and if you don’t pick up when he does he just waits for you to call him back.

And he never blames you for it.

Sometimes you’re asleep, insomnia or a late-night burst of productivity hitting you hard enough that you destroy whatever semblance your sleep cycle had to an actual functioning thing. Sometimes you’re in class, and you dig your phone out to text him an i love you and an on tuesdays i have biochem, remember? and sometimes an oh my god prof anderson’s even more boring than usual this week.

On Tuesdays he’d text back an i love you more, like it’s a competition and like he genuinely believes he’s winning, he’d text you a new science meme he found online, he’d text you a focus on ur prof anyway, and stop checking out your TA.

You’d always reply to the last one with a sneaky pic of your TA, usually while he’s bent over one of your classmates’ desks to explain a concept to them in detail. There’s a reason why your classmates keep asking him to explain the most basic of things, and it’s not just because he’s incredibly enthusiastic about doing it.

But it’s — Thursday, you think, you’re not quite sure, but it’s media day for the flyers and that means that Nolan’s probably going to be busy all day. For the second time since you’d woken up, you pray - for a moment - for time to move faster than it’s doing.

A peek at the clock tells you that your prayer’s gone unanswered, and — hey, at least that gets you to direct your annoyance outward. To the clock, to god, maybe, or just to the concept of time.

But because you still have about twenty five minutes before Nolan’s call, you climb - slowly - out of bed and head to the bathroom — if nothing else, you could at least brush your teeth before he calls you. That’s how he pushes you, when he’s there in person: just brush your teeth, babe, or just have some of the toast i made, i’ll make more if you decide you’re hungry or it’s okay if you don’t hit the gym today, Newton’s been whining for another walk.

And you both know by now that things are always easier after you’ve taken the first step. You brush your teeth, shower, even go through your (pretty basic) skincare routine before Nolan’s Facetime request pops up on your screen.

By the the time you accept the call, you’re feeling halfway-human again, though you’re in one of Nolan’s ratty old Wheat Kings jerseys and not your own clothes. You manage a smile for him, tired and - at the same time, and just from seeing his face - not, smile widening as he swings his phone sharply around.

You see something like a patch of orange fur flying through the air, Nolan ducking it just in time, and you hope that he hadn’t just dodged Gritty. God, were parts of Gritty - aside from his bellybutton patch - detachable?

Nolan laughs, the low, rumbling sound making you smile a little wider, even as you’re wishing that he’s there with you so that you can feel the sound. Nolan’s a grade A clinger when you both have the energy for it - you know exactly how his laughter feels when his chest is plastered against your back.

“I’m under attack, babe,” he tells you, and you think that you’re looking better than you feel, because he’s grinning at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair, a disaster of a masterpiece of a person and he’s not trying to quiet himself down for you.

Nolan is - well, most people would think of him as quiet. private, even secretive, restrained. But he trusts you, and even on the days when you feel more walking dead than alive he feels like there’s more of the world to see - and feel, and experience - when he’s sharing it with you.

He tries to quiet himself - makes himself soft and safe, soothing and easy - when he knows you’re having a rough day. But you love him when he’s like this, too.

Okay - in all fairness, you love all versions of him.

“Baaaaaaabe,” he whines at you, still grinning, and you realise that you’ve been staring.

“Is it Gritty, baby?” you ask, and you can feel yourself grinning back now — it feels like a mask stretched thin over your face, but it feels real, too. “You know I’m not getting in Gritty’s way. Ever.”

“Fuck, no, I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he promises you, and he’s turning again, the camera catching a shirtless Carter Hart in the background. They’re in the locker room, you think, and even though the other guys might be there too, you make sure to wolf-whistle at him.

Hartsy looks up to grin at you, giving a small, awkward wave that you think means he’s still a little shy with you, and Nolan swings the camera around again — this time so that his face is filling the screen, and he’s arching an eyebrow up at you.

“It was Teeks, actually. You wanna flirt with him too?” he asks, and it’s your turn to laugh — and it’s like something slips off your shoulders when you do, a weight you hadn’t known you’d been carrying.

“Think he still likes me after the last girl I hooked him up with?” you ask — you haven’t had the time or energy to hang out with TK in a while, thirty minutes with him is about as much social interaction as you’d get from five hours with literally anyone else, but the last time you did hang out together there had been a fourth person there, a lab partner you’d had earlier in the semester.

Teeks had seen her profile picture in your Whatsapp chat - he had zero sense of boundaries or personal space - and had insisted on an introduction. And, as it turned out, he’d come to regret it.

“Fuck you, she talks like she’s spitting out a dictionary,” you hear Teeks shouting from somewhere, and Nolan turns away from the phone - and from you - then, though you recognise the furrow in his brow even from his profile.

“Dude, I told you not to talk about her friends like that,” he tells his friend, sounding disapproving and stern, and Teeks - who’s the opposite of serious, especially when it’s Nolan being serious - goes pfffft in reply.

“You said to not call her a n-e-r-d, and i didn’t,” Teeks shoots back, like you’re a genius who just happens to be incapable of spelling, and you’re laughing again.

Nolan turns back to face you, then makes a face like he’d just been jabbed before he angles the camera so that you can see Teeks, too, maybe standing on tiptoe so he can hook his chin over Nolan’s shoulder.

“‘Nerd’ isn’t a bad word,” you tell both boys, mock-serious like you’re settling a dispute, and TK pumps a fist in the air.

“Y/N can say it, she is one,” Nolan protests, and you’re making a squawk of - exaggerated - affront while he goes bright red.

“You know what, Teeks? You can have him,” you tell them, and then it’s Nolan’s turn to make a sound of protest. Instead of pumping his fist again, though, TK makes a face like he’s considering it before shoving Nols aside - you’re giggling when he stumbles, but when he straightens up again he’s all yours.

“We’re having lunch in a little bit, babe. Have you had anything to eat?”

You shake your head, feeling a little guilty, but Nolan looks unfazed.

“That’s okay, we’ll have an early dinner tonight, yeah? I miss you,” he says, the last words coming in a low mumble. You’ve been missing each other a lot - you had a summer internship as a research assistant while he’d gone home over the off-season, and even as the season’s coming back into swing now you’re feeling more pressure from a heavier courseload.

“Sounds perfect, Nols. I can’t wait.” And you’re not lying, not just trying to be good enough for him - pretending to be a girl capable of going out for dinner in the city. You don’t have to lie or pretend. If Nolan wants to have dinner out, you want to be there with him. And if later you decide you’re too tired, or too anxious to be surrounded by people, you know he’ll want to be with you - on the couch, in pyjamas, eating takeout and fighting over who’s getting the better fortune cookie.

“Love you,” you say to him in a whisper, even though there’s no one around you to laugh and tease about you being so mushy.

“Love you more,” he replies, each word crystal clear, and you see another orange thing flying by - still just Teeks? - right before you cut the call.

[theparanormalperiodical]

The True Story Behind The Ring (2002) And The 11 Real Cursed Videotapes And Films That You Should NOT Watch

As a paranormal blogger, I often find myself treading the line between honesty and hoaxes. 

It could be the photographic evidence behind a ghost story, or it could be the claims of those that have supposedly witnessed something unexplainable - I spend most of my time trying to work out what's real with a capital ‘R’.

But if there’s one thing I can always rely on, it’s this:

The Japanese know how to make horror films. 

Sure, each corner of the world brings its own flair to the genre, but it’s a very specific aesthetic that runs like a piece of thread through Japanese horror, weaving together the cloak of Asian horror. 

And it was the British winter weather that reminded me of this aesthetic (and had me emotionally prepared to see a clump of black hair snake around my hand and upvote a Teen Mom 2 meme on Reddit).

So, in true Paranormal Periodical fashion, I’ve decided to dig deep into the reality of a horror icon native to Japan:

Samara, the creepy-ass chick from The Ring (2002).

Check out the trailer to her cinematic debut here!

But the thing is, the true story behind one of the most famous horror movies of all time goes much further than any ol’ cursed videotape.

Turns out that Samara’s life - and afterlife - is based on a very real story, and a very real set of ghosts that Japanese culture cannot get enough of.

Yep.

This means that there’s twice as much chance that The Ring is based on a true story than any other horror film. Great.

So, for all of the readers that haven’t hidden under their duvet, this article is going to be summarising the true story behind Samara, the Japanese folklore of the Yurei (imagine multiple Samaras just, like, existing all at the same time), and all of the cursed videos that bring us uncomfortably close to the plotline of The Ring. 

And if that wasn’t enough to traumatise you, I’ve even included all of the cursed horror films you need to know about!

Why? ‘Cause fuck you. 

If I’m going down, you’re going down with me. 

Now, let’s get spooky.

First, Let’s Recap Samara’s Screen Time (The Ring Movies And The Ring Novel Series)

Our story starts in 1991.

We are in Tokyo. News breaks that four teenagers have died on exactly the same night at exactly the same time. A journalist piques interest in this suspicious occurrence, and winds up in a holiday resort where they stayed a week before their mysterious deaths. 

When he’s not shacked up on the beach and living his Love Island fantasy, he discovers a videotape has been left in the room. This tape contains a set of weird-ass images and a warning appears which basically says:

“You gon’ die in seven days. If y’all don’t wanna die in 7 days do thi-”

An advert cuts off the instructions. (So, just like Love Island, then?)

This plotline sounds familiar, doesn’t it? That’s ‘cause it gets repeated in every novel and every film. But that’s not to say that this saga slacks story-wise. 

In the first novel, the investigations lead the journalist to the story of Sadako. Turns out that she was the daughter of Shizuko Yamamura, a medium who was branded a charlatan. Shizuko committed suicide by throwing herself in the crater of Mount Mihara as a result of her disdain by the world around her, but the fate of Sadako was declared unknown. 

The journalist follows the trail back to a well. And at the bottom of this well? What’s left of Sadako. 

Firmly believing that a proper burial will restore peace to Sadako’s ghost, he believes that laying her body to rest has fulfilled the duty expected of the viewer before the Flat Tummy Tea advert cropped off how to stop her.

But fit with the surprise ending that kills a sidekick of the journalist, we discover that copying the videotape is what spares the watcher of the tape from Sadako’s curse. 

Sadako doesn’t want to be laid to rest - she wants the world to know of her suffering and thus by copying the video and showing it to someone, more people will know.

Swap out a couple Japanese destinations for Seattle inspired locations, and we end up with The Ring (2002) - the American film. 

Still with me? 

Good. Because this is where the Japanese story and the American films diverge:

The American films go off-piece, either churning out this same plot, or go deeper into Samara’s past. This includes seeking out her mother and the child of the journalist being possessed by Samara. 

The Japanese, however, shake off such a simple plot and stick to the novels.

Spiral (1995) is the sequel to the first book, from which it is deduced that a tumour is what kills the victims of Sadako. The tumour forms in the throat, and then blocks the airway when the 7 days are up. This tumour is transferred from the tape to the body via an organism known as the Ring Virus.  

Investigations continue, questions go unanswered, and then the virus mutates and uses a report on this case to become a medium to transfer the curse to the reader. Some bloke reads it, and begins to think of Sadako and the well. He follows these thoughts to the well, and meets a girl called Masako.

They zig-a-ziga, and he discovers that Masako is actually Sadako.

Oh, and she’s up the duff.

Sadako then makes him publish the files that are essentially now the tape.

The rest of the book series sticks to the growing spread of the virus, and includes a supercomputer project, someone giving birth to Sadako… The Americans only went so far as someone sending a video clip to her next victim!

Yet despite the escalating Japanese side of things, there is something that I need to mention to bring out yet another component of Sadako’s uncomfortably realistic story:

It’s her tragic death. 

Having fled to Hakone - the site of the well she died in - to visit her father in hospital, she is raped by a doctor. She defends herself with her psychic powers, but once she is strangled, she is incapacitated and cannot fight back. She is then thrown (still alive) into the well. 

Nevertheless, the premise is still clear - and uncomfortably accurate to Japanese folklore and the true story inspiring this set of novels and films.

*Runs away*

The True Story Behind Samara 

Now it’s time to discuss the woman of the well herself.

Samara, or Sadako, is the leading lass of these films and novels, and is known for her mop of tangled black hair, her debut appearance in the creepiest cursed video tape known to mankind, and desire for the world to know her name!

(I’m telling you, this whole saga could just be a metaphor for Love Island.) 

But it turns out that this tale is based on a similarly tragic set of events taking place 700 years ago:

It is claimed that a woman named Okiku worked in the dungeon of Himeji castle, and was the servant to a samurai. Among her tasks was looking after a set of 10 golden plates. 

In true rom-com fashion, the samurai fell in love with her, and wanted to leave his wife for Okiku. However, in true patriarchy fashion, when she declined his advances he blackmailed her by hiding one of the golden plates and threatening to tell the authorities that she had stolen it.

We are uncertain of the exact events following this, but we know that she either committed suicide by throwing herself in the well, or was murdered by the samurai and then thrown in the well.

Either way she ended up in a well.  And this well actually exists…

(Note the iron bars covering the well. To keep her contained, perhaps?)

Well, I say ended up - Okiku made a point of revisiting the samurai after her death. She would haunt him by crawling out of the well each and every night, and would make a point of counting the golden plates. When she found once was missing, she would scream and throw a fit of rage. 

If that story wasn’t similar enough to the theatrical version of events, then Okiku’s portrayal as a yurei will be sure to send a shiver down your spine...

The Yurei

Okiku is far from alone in her ventures in the afterlife. In fact, a whole branch of Japanese ghosts bare similarities to her existence.

And they are known as yurei.

Take a look at this gif of Samara:

A dark mop of wet, let down hair. A white, flowing dress. Arms outstretched and hands limp.

These are all core traits shared by this #squad of spirits.

The japanese word translates to ‘faint soul’ or ‘dim spirit’, but the main focus of the yurei is actually their burial and afterlife.

Women are buried in Japan in white flowing dresses and have their hair down, hence this aesthetic crossing over to the other plain of existence. Unfortunately, the plain of existence they reach is far from the heavens expected:

The yurei are spirits who are kept from a peaceful afterlife, thanks to the unfortunate nature of their deaths. The yurei are ghosts which have died under unnatural circumstances - think traumatic deaths or having no official rites to bless than during their final moments. Oh, and you can’t forget the burden of jealous feelings and the desire for vengeance! 

“So, is sharing round their tragic stories like Samara’s the way to cleanse this spirit?”

Nah. 

Performing the rites or resolving the circumstances of their desire for vengeance or their unfinished business typically does the trick.

In fact, letting the ghost have intimate relations with an intended lover is a very popular method of de-yureing your life. 

Not willing to shag a spirit?

(Of all the sentences I thought I’d say on this blog, that is definitely not one of them.)

I’m afraid you’re going to have to let the yurei carry out their final actions forever…and ever… and ever…

So, we know what yurei are - but is Okiku the only recorded case of one?

Nope!

In fact, she’s one of three famous yurei that are repeatedly portrayed in theatrical and cinematic productions. Otsuya and Oiwa make up the rest of the trio, but unfortunately I can only find Oiwa’s story. 

Well, the terrifying part, that is: anyone that portrays her in a film or at the theatre is sure to be haunted by her!

Currently freaked the fuck out? Here’s how you can spot if you are being haunted by a yurei:

Their appearance is often what gives them away. Aside from the white dress, the hair style is actually key to their aesthetic. It is believed that Japanese women often wore their hair pinned up during their life, and thus had it down for their burial. That or the characters portraying yurei at the theatre would wear wigs, giving the appearance of a cloak of long hair. 

Speaking of the white dress, yureis wore white kimonos as this was the symbol of purity, again the traditional garb of buried Japanese women. They would also wear a small piece of cloth to cover their forehead.

(Perhaps explaining why Samara draped her forward and covered her face - and thus her forehead, too.)

“So, they just look like women that have been buried?”

Nearly - they are often seen hovering above the ground, with wisps of colour coming off of their bodies. Also known as hitodemon, these often stick to the colour palette of greens, blues and purples.

These colours feature heavily in the American Ring films. 

The Real Cursed Videos You Seriously Shouldn’t Watch  

Aside from Samara’s #aesthetic, the main feature of both the novel series and the films is that of the cursed video tape.

Bearing a similarity to a student film from an edgy undergrad, it contains a mix of abstract and hyper-realistic images bound to unsettle the watcher - all set to a soundtrack of high pitched noises.

The tape contains traces of Samara’s life, and is intended to leave a mark on the watcher to encourage them to make the world know of her pain. But being creeped out isn’t the only effect of this tape. Over the week prior to their deadline, weird effects in photographs, bite marks and other physical afflictions are also noted. It's these mental and physical effects that give the real life cursed videos lingering on the net their ‘cursed’ label.

Unfortunately, these effects tend to be much more drastic than those envisaged in The Ring.

*sigh*

#1 - suicidemouse.avi

Mickey Mouse is one of the most iconic cartoon characters to date. His lovable charm and his adorable voice make him the extrovert of the age! However, this video might make you regard the frontman of Disney in a different light.

This video - which first appeared on 4chan - sees a sad looking Mickey walk through a dark, grey city, with hands behind his back. 

Things take a turn, however, when a series of creep-AF things go down.

The screen goes blank for a couple of minutes. The piano music stops. The music comes back on. Screams are heard. The music gets fucked up. The buildings around him crumble. He wears an uncomfortable grin as the city falls apart. Mickey collapses with a syringe in his hand. 

The final shot shows a blurry logo for the cartoon character, and Russian text appears. It reads:

“The sights of hell bring its viewers back in.”

It is claimed that after a single watch you will experience panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. 

Could it have simply come from a troll on the web? Potentially. But the urban legend follows a much darker tale, claiming film critic Leonard Maltin was reviewing old cartoons that would be brought into a compilation when he saw this one. He voted it out immediately, and actually left the room thanks to the video.

But it is also claimed her kept a version for his own records.

Oh! And it gets worse!

The original editor was supposedly driven to insanity having watched it, stealing a security guard’s gun and shooting himself having yelled “Real suffering is not known!”.

Yeah, fuck this shit.

#2 - The Japanese Kleenex Advert (1980s?)

The Japanese film industry makes yet another feature on this list, and once again, it's the traumatising stuff that puts them on the map. 

The advert shows a woman sitting next to a baby painted as a red ogre who sits on a pile of straw. If that wasn’t weird enough, music with the innovative lyrics “die” in German repeatedly being chanted is the soundtrack to this freaky advert. 

Well, depending on the time of day, that is. The soundtrack would alter depending on when it was viewed. 

Viewers also noted an unsettling feeling whilst watching the advert, some even complained of sudden intense suicidal thoughts. The advert was quickly pulled from air thanks to the complaints, but not before it could take its toll on the creators of the advert.

Unexplainable accidents and a series of mental health issues plagued the creators of the film, leaving both viewers and producers haunted. The baby in the video? Killed in a car crash. The actress in the video? Hung herself in a mental hospital.

#4 - The Grifter

Potentially the scariest video on this list, the Grifter is a collage of images and clips relating to human torture, sacrifice and a variety of other gruesome scenes. Splash on some unsettling music and you have yourself a 4chan icon!

The thing is, only screenshots have been shared of this video. All we know is based on the whispers and wonders of the internet pit that is this website. This includes a clip of a rotting plant with the words “Your race is the one dying”, writhing maggots, paintings melting, flashing colours, random forests, text in different languages...

“Hold up - doesn’t this sound like all supposedly cursed videos?”

The images of a very realistic looking baby/doll set this apart from the other videos (dis)gracing this list. Well, that and the supposed subliminal messages people claim to be lingering on the frequencies in the music.

A very clear message is laid out to viewers, however, when a voice says:

“This child (now a young man) is still alive and lives in a local shelter whose name was not given. He never spoke, and still is katatonie [sic].”

We then once again return to the parallels with the other videos:

Negative physical effects and internal afflictions are frequently noted by viewers; sudden nosebleeds, nightmares, hallucinations, depression and suicidal thoughts haunt anyone who dares watch.

Fancy clickin’ ‘play’? Good luck with that. Any clips found on any corner of the web are often taken down, and are near impossible to copy. 

#5 - Satan’s Sphinx

Most of the videos have been traced back to 4chan, and have left us with much speculation regarding their backstory. But the urban legend accompanying this video starts with its creation:

It was supposedly uploaded to the internet in 2006 by the US government in order to test subliminal messaging. But when the reports of madness started rolling in, it was taken off the web.

Don’t fancy watching it yourself?

Then you’re missing out on a succession of bloody images overladen with high pitched sounds and murmurs! Eventually the images flick through so quickly that a flash of is all that is left.  

So, no, you’re not missing out on much. Apart from depression. 

The Real Cursed Movies You Seriously Should Watch (They’re All Great Movies, Okay, It’s Worth The Sacrifice)

Everyone okay? We all good? Had a little cry?

It’s ok, it’s over now. 

Now it’s time for the cursed horror movies you can watch! 

But before I continue the train of terrifying-shit that is this post, I wanted to begin with a personal story regarding cursed videos: In case you didn’t know, I captured paranormal activity on audio whilst recording a video for my long-dead YT channel. It was when I mentioned the true story of Anneliese Michel that strange occurrences began to plague my sound. 

Given that, I firmly believe that discussing the true stories behind certain hauntings is what cursed these films, most of which were based on true stories or unholy themes.

#1 - The Exorcist (1973)

It’s famous for being one of the scariest horror films to date, becoming a cinematic icon that would lead the the horror movie genre forward in terms of both CGI and storyline. But it's also earned its reputation through the claims of a curse.

Fires on set, actors being seriously hurt during filming - and the death of actors whilst the film was barely out of post production - all scar the film. Heck, in 1987, the actress who voiced the demon experienced the curse herself when her son murdered his own family before comitting suicide.

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDGw1MTEe9k 

#2 - The Conjuring (2013)

Both the cast and crew cited paranormal activity, but it was a slash of a claw on Vera Farmiga’s laptop that sparked the rumours of a curse…

Digital claw marks ripped through her laptop and then appeared on her thigh, bearing the mark of a demonic attack or violent spirit. 

An exorcist was thus made to be on set throughout filming for the sequel.

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k10ETZ41q5o 

#3 - The Passion Of The Christ (2004)

The presence of Mel Gibson was not the only thing to have cursed this film. 

In fact, is was an ungodly amount of lightning strikes that plagued production - even if ‘ungodly’ isn’t the right word to use. In the filming of one scene, lightning struck the set, specifically Caviezel, a key actor in the film. And this was the second lightning strike felt by the assistant director. 

Unfortunately, this was one of the few ailments and issues Caviezel would fac including lacerations due to whipping and pneumonia. 

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Aif1qEB_JU 

#4 - Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

It’s time for another biblical tale! 

The sudden death of the composer and the infamous death of the director’s wife at the hands of Charles Manson have scarred this film. In fact, Manson supposedly cited that he was the devil and doing the devil’s work when he killed her. 

A producer also suffered sudden kidney failure soon after the film, amping up the evidence to suggest this film was cursed.

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjpA6IH_Skc 

#5 - Poltergeist (1982)

There’s a lot going on with this film. Like a lot. Like real, human skeletons being used in the pool scene. But that was just the start of this curse.

Unfortunately, this fantastic film has a fatal backstory. 

Carol-Anne, the little girl at the centre of the film, died at the age of 12 as a result of a cardiac arrest, and across a mere 6 year window 3 crew and cast members also met their demise. 

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eZgEKjYJqA 

#6 - The Omen (1976)

This film certainly racked up the greatest number of tragic occurrences, and this supposed curse is believed to be linked to the film itself.

The plotline follows the birth of the antichrist, and follows his life as he takes out his enemies and seeks to dominate the world. 

(Mwahahahaha)

And honestly, it seems like outside of the set this may have just been true:

3 planes carrying both cast and crew ran into dangerous weather conditions. The screenwriter himself was on two separate flights that were struck by lightning, and an executive producer was on a flight that flew through a storm.

Another plane that was supposed to carry Gregory Peck - one of the masterminds behind the film - crashed. Peck had cancelled his ticket moments before deciding to fly.

And the director? His hotel was bombed by the IRA. A special effects artist? His girlfriend was killed in a car crash. Still wanna watch? No thanks. 

Here’s the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sS-sXcx30O4 

So - What Do You Think?

Are you planning to watch any of these cursed videos?

Or are you currently googling ‘how-best-to-protect-from-yurei-and-maybe-the-antichrist-too-why-not’?

Whatever your doing this fine evening, you can find more spooky stuff on this blog - including a new ghost everyday. You in? Then hit follow!

[lightsintheskye]

Are you ok?? You haven’t posted in almost a month and I’m just making sure. I love you and your art a lot and miss seeing your comics and personal posts on my dash. I hope everything’s ok and thanks for keeping anon on and always being an inspiration to me, even if I can’t muster it up to say it in person.

Anon this is very, very kind of you to say. I really appreciate this, and I hope you don’t mind me being honest as I can with an explanation since I’m trying really hard to get back into running this blog- I don’t plan to abandon this blog any time soon if that’s what worries you.

I’m fact, I have not only one- but six comic ideas waiting for zelda and the link and the links au alone, since I have a vested amount of people still sending me Asks on the daily about it- maybe even creating a zine specifically dedicated to the au. I also have some comics for Devil May Cry, MHA, and, Smash Ultimate, and Voltron sitting in my drafts just waiting to be inked and properly drawn out but my issue right now is TIME and motivation.

I know this response will probably be a little bit long, so I don’t blame anyone for ignoring it- or if people unfollow me because it’s not hur hur funnee picture. Follower count has never really mattered to me nor will it ever. I’m just here to express my passion for video games and the series that I love.

I’ll be real with you and everyone- I try to keep an upbeat and hyped as shit attitude 90% of the time because god knows this world needs positivity more than ever now. It’s almost a fake it to make it attitude, but I am truly excited for all the video games and shows I devote fan art and comics to.

Recently life has just been very, very hard for me. This month alone my car broke, my router and modem broke, my computer almost broke-our house was cramped, one of our cats had worms- and my vacation to finally see my family was cancelled. Ive shelled out all my savings, and it’s cost me over a grand to fix it all and that’s not even counting my monthly bills. If it weren’t for the absolute kindness of my commissioners, especially @pocketseizure and @lettersfromfallenlondon who are literally angels among angels, I don’t even know what I would do this month.

On top of that, my work load has gone from something like 30hrs between school prep, work, and commissions to about 70-90 and it’s very very hard to make time for comics.

And because life just wants to needle in the point that times are hard, every August without fail my depression skyrockets regardless of what meds I take. I don’t talk much about my major depression that I have, nor my anxiety because I don’t like adding onto others stress- it’s already a lot for me to talk about it as I am now. I pride myself for being able to deal with my own drops in stability quite well but there’s times I’m so thankful to @mxrainbownoodle for being there to hear my pain and, and I give them the same respect back. Unfortunately, beyond them it’s incredibly hard for me to be more open and personal about my life because I’ve been used and abused by a staggering number of people around me- especially as an emotional dumping ground. It’s a very major reason why I don’t open up to anyone, because I NEVER want to have someone go through the experiences of emotional abuse and forced negativity I have. With Shani it’s an equal exchange of give and take and support, but I can’t seem to bring myself to be open with others the same way without feeling as if I’m dumping on them- or they are dumping on me. Many, many people don’t realize how just dumping their emotions out of the blue on someone can in turn hurt their friends- I understand it’s a cry for help, and that at times there’s seemingly nothing you can do to help yourself, but not apologizing after the fact- or being a repeat offender of it, or even offhandedly mentioning incredibly triggering things to someone because you feel it’s justified to joke or meme about something you experienced can really, really fuck up the person your talking to. Especially if you haven’t warned them or asked them if it’s ok. This isn’t a personal jab to anyone around me, this isn’t singling out anyone either- but if for some reason you feel these words strike a cord with you, why not reach out to the person you’re worried might feel this way about you- and tell them how much you appreciate having them as a friend and offering to help them in any way you can handle- do not offer everything when you can’t, but giving that little bit of love goes a long way and it never hurts to remind your friends and loved ones they matter.

Aside from that, my work load is honestly making having a social life in any capacity impossible, and my internet being out for almost a week hasn’t helped either. I’ve been so busy I haven’t even been able to reply to emails, anons, tumblr messages or anything for weeks aside from short answers. My discord has messages piled up to an alarming degree, and my phone is a string of unanswered texts that I’m still trying to get through but it’s tough since AGAIN a lot of these messages are people either complaining or asking something of me. For my own personal health I can’t look at a lot of them- I literally eat, work, commission work, and sleep with little to show for it and barely any energy left to even relax. I know eventually things will go back to letting me have fun and my meds will work again but idk when that will be;;

TDLR; I love you too anon I’m just trapped with a front row seat on the struggle bus, and the driver keeps missing my stop. But if it doesn’t stop in the next few weeks I’m probably gonna just crash through one of the windows and do a really shitty barrel roll, dust myself off and find the stop on my own.