#bc I just drown in self hatred and pain

[hoodiehydra]

Family comfort fics jskskdskjds

Idk maybe an Andro Bros fic (bc there aren't enough of those in the world ngl) where Agoti has to be the one comforting Aldryx

Aldryx blames himself for what happened to them and Agoti needs to reassure him otherwise

YES

Oh my gosh this was almost 1.2K words I am not even joking wth-

Warnings: none. No swearing at all, this is pure angsty comfort.

I put all my big sibling thoughts and feelings into this. This is sometimes how I feel towards my siblings, and I wish my sister would understand how much I care. But- you know, I don’t think she would ever know. This is just the tip of the iceberg.

—————

I’m back, and I’m here to stay.

It’s been a year.

A year.

Yeah.

And in that year, everything changed.

A year since what, though?

Agoti’s return.

Even after that one year, it still hadn’t gone back to normal. At least, to Aldryx. The poor guy was not sitting in his room, crying over the past events during the two years of Agoti’s no-longer-mysterious disappearance. Oh, how he wanted to kill the Dearests so badly… he really would, he, in fact, could. So, what’s stopping him?

Geography. And also a whole load of self-loathing and guilt. He hated feeling this way, but he couldn’t help it. Choking out hushed sobs and tears, he was huddled up in his covers, trying to find warmth and comfort in a piece of fabric. It was all so overwhelming, his thoughts just up in his mind’s personal space. It was suffocating.

He felt so useless when his little brother was gone, he couldn’t do anything, and he knew that. He knew all his contributions had no use in the investigations. At that time, all they could assume was that he was dead. Gone, and without a single trace. Those two years were the worst ones ever. Never seeing his brother again, and he couldn’t help at all, it should have been him. At least, then, he wouldn’t worry about his brother. He would have been safe. Why him?

Sighing softly at how pathetic he felt then, he wiped the last of his tears dry. Can’t have his brother or father worrying, after all.

Grimacing, he stayed in his room, hoping that he would finally be left alone from his thoughts for a while. He needed some space to breathe. But no, all he was thinking was: you let this happen… it should have been you. You are useless, maybe next time you should be the one to be captured. Maybe then no one would need to worry, huh?

Hatred consumed him as the horrid thoughts invaded his mind. He knew they weren’t true, everyone would still worry about him. Especially Agoti. It wouldn’t help anyone but himself to ease off the pain.

But that little part that always was the reason for his self doubt, never gave him an easy time. The words got louder and louder, and he believed them. He believed those toxic words plaguing his mind and it only hurt him more. The feeling was sickening, overwhelming. He didn’t feel like he could turn to anyone about it. He’s the big brother, the strong one, the pillar for his brother. This wasn’t his role. No… he couldn’t be weak. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that small vulnerability, even for a moment. No. He always acted strong, even if he was breaking inside. He couldn’t face the fact that yes, he was not perfect. He has feelings. Valid ones. But it felt so weird to open up, to show how soft or vulnerable you could be, especially to those you were supposed to be strong for.

He hated the feeling in general. It was sickening, awful, it made him feel so anxious and spiteful of his own feelings.

Damn you, emotions and feelings.

Still tangled up in the silk, the background noise was drowned out in his thoughts— funny, the background noise was always someone screaming, didn’t matter who. And yet, he couldn’t hear them. The one time he wished he could hear the noise, and he couldn’t. Talk about awful timing.

Aldryx quietly wept in the room, but he wasn’t the quietest crier. He did have a low volume, but maybe those with sharp hearing could pick up some sounds.

Agoti… his hearing was incredibly sharp. As in, I-can-hear-the-neighbours-arguing-next-door kinda sharp.

At first, Agoti ignored the little weeps for his brother’s privacy. He knew what Aldryx was going through, without asking. It was a special bond the brothers shared, they knew each other so well, even behind closed doors, they could sense what the others was going through.

The more Agoti left his brother alone, however, the longer Aldryx stayed in the room, locked up.

Agoti hated how his brother felt about himself, because it was not at all true. Not even in the slightest.

Finally, he decided to do something about it.

Quietly shuffling towards the door, he gently knocked thrice on the hollow, wooden door.

Aldryx stiffened at the sudden sound, but he already knew who it was and what it meant. Agoti knew.

There was no point in hiding it anymore, he could try to deny it, but what was the point? Agoti knows. If he knows, there is no doubt Solazar knew, but… he would definitely open up to his brother more. It wasn’t that he was mad at Sol or anything, it was just easier to open up to someone nearer his age. Besides, Sol was probably a millennia older than him.

With a soft ‘click’, Aldryx slid open the door for his little brother, but he made a point to cover his face, or his eyes, with the blanket. Agoti made his way in, while Aldryx laid back down on the bed, now soaked with his tears. It was very hot, he was sweating. But it also felt really cold, freezing actually. He didn’t exactly know how to feel about it.

He gave up hiding himself. Why hide when everyone knows the truth?

“I’m guessing this is about my kidnapping?” Agoti asked.

Hesitating, Aldryx nodded.

“And you think this is your fault?” Agoti continued.

Again, Aldryx nodded. Shoot, he didn’t think Agoti would be this specific.

“Look, big brother. I know you were scared when I was gone. I will never know how you felt, and that’s fine. You don’t have to explain, but I’m back. I’m back, and I am here to stay. I will never leave you. I won’t understand how you feel, because I have not gone through what you went through. But I’m here, you can always talk to me. Okay? Stop hiding. It’s been a year, let’s stay as close as we can. I know it’s difficult for you, because it is for me too. But none of this is your fault. Listen to me. None of it is your fault. Fuck the Dearests. It’s them. You did all you could, and I appreciate you for that. Thank you, big brother, for all you did. Thank you.” Agoti murmured.

Whatever Agoti had said had finally caused Aldryx’s thoughts to go silent. It was all quiet. Finally, he was at peace. Both sighed with relief that Aldryx had stopped panicking.

Aldryx looked down, thinking about what Agoti had said, when the younger brother leapt towards Aldryx and hugged him, holding him in a warm and comforting embrace. Aldryx quickly wrapped his arms around his brother, returning the affection, while Agoti’s tail coiled around Aldryx’s now no longer shaking figure.

He was calm.

Agoti was back.

And he was not leaving them again.

And from the open doorway, Solazar softly smiled at the two brothers, happy that Aldryx was now soothed.

They were finally reunited, and nothing would tear them apart again.

—————

GOODBYE THIS WAS SO MUCH WTH 😭😭😭

WELL I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT

#hydra talks #fnf agoti #fnf aldryx #brotherly comfort #andromeda brotherly fluff #glassbreaker’s treasure trove

[addictt-with-a-pen]

i’m so sick of myself, but I don’t have anyone else.

#i hate how I don’t have anyone #i spend every day and every night alone #and I hate myself #that’s not a good thing lmao #bc I just drown in self hatred and pain #no one’s ever there #who else do I have? #it’s just me #and it makes me feel so sick and so very sad #because I can’t stand myself #… #sigh #depression #self hate #pain #broken #hurt #lost #alone #words #my words #late night thoughts #confused #abandoned #trauma #my post

[flintbian]

Is literally anyone okay rn? Half my dash is just depressed as hell. My professor looks and sounds like he's going to cry and I have no idea how to respond to his latest email. And meanwhile I'm just trying to finish this damn assignment but the stream of tears are getting in the way like @ me stop crying goddamn it I can't see!

#i keep bouncing back and forth from numb to the world is ending #there is no fucking middle ground unless you count 'i want to die but must go on' as somewhat middle ground #thank god im seeing my therapist tomorrow bc i never learned how to do any of this and cope and i ain't coping idk how #nothing feels real idk if im real im either locked inside or crying/harming and it's a MESS #this isnt where i want to be... that's the only thing keeping me here #there must be better and maybe i can be #but the weight of losing someone forever presses down on me hence i cant fucking see #heartbreak and pain and sorrow and despair amd fear can't be all that there is i want to make a better life #it's just hard getting through the now...when all is bleak and dark and im drowning #what on earth is there to live for now? #a future that might not exist but im trying...im trying #it's just so hard #grief sorrow self hatred and pain consume me and there's no one to blame but myself and I'm living with that #it just makes it harder #idek what im talking about anymore but #if only i had the motivation to fix me for me...or any at all #im just banging my head against the wall spiritually #at least i ate today that's something right? little victories i guess #i dont want to be here anymore #just wish i knew the way forward #p

[elenalucilfer]

love ill-fated

on the significance of Kaworu and Shinji. spoilers!

Despair and self-hatred, the defining feelings of Shinji during such a desolate time. Over and over, he kept losing, he kept being lied to, and he was alone, so painfully alone, drowning in the remberance of what he’s done. But it must be proper that he finds hope again in quite literally, a sea of change. Sitting there, aglow with the sunset, an angel to come save him, Kaworu.

Kaworu was fascinated by Shinji, he saw something in him that was beautiful, that he wanted to know more about, even if they met when Shinji was at his lowest. Bombarded with this attention, this pure unadulterated love, Shinji is flurried with emotions. With every other person in his life he had expectations for them that they never met, and so he was constantly dissapointed and at a certain point gave up on the idea of a life without loneliness. But now, he’s greeted by a stranger, a stranger who wants him without anything in return. Never in his life had Shinji felt so loved, and so his instant reaction is to return that love, an exchange which is so foreign to him.

And just as Shinji was changed by Kaworu, Kaworu was changed by Shinji. Like all angels, Kaworu was created resenting Lilin (humans, those born from Lilith) and more importantly as the 17th angel, it was his role to truly end humanity. However, Kaworu was blessed to be different from the other angels, something I’d like to look into in another post, in the sense that he had the power to know and feel. He was not limited to the powers of just the Fruit of Life, he like Rei, had access to both Lilith and Adam. With this perspective and power, Shinji gave him a view of humanity Kaworu had never seen before. He looked at Shinji, someone he saw was capable of incredible things but was still bridled with the pain of the past, which hindered him from achieving all that he was capable of. How captivating that the exact thing which made humans so powerful, their minds, was the same thing that dutifully held them back. And so, seeing such a beautiful creature as Shinji in front of him riddled with heartache and loneliness, he felt sympathy for him, perhaps even empathy, and decided his own purpose.

This natural love between the two was a necessary acknowledgement between the angels and humans of each other’s existence. Kaworu loving Shinji was symbolic of all angels accepting humanity in all of its flaws and therefore accepting their fate; Kaworu was the catalyst of this acceptance and death of the angels. As the last of the angels he was meant to end humanity, but he recognized that he was not worthy of this decision and left it in Shinji’s hands, someone so dreadfully human. As “saviour” of humanity, which could only be saved with the death of the angels, Shinji had to love and then kill Kaworu BECAUSE he is human and our lives are full of sacrifice and self-destruction.  Shinji’s love for Kaworu was meant to show the pain of sacrifice that can push one to despair and resentment of those they save and themselves, which is elaborated on through instrumentality.

While doomed from the beginning, their relationship was crucial to the long awaited Third Impact. But more than that they gave each other meaning and a purpose; because of Shinji, Kaworu realized he was born to forgive humans and because of Kaworu, Shinji realized he was worthy and loved in spite of his shortcomings. Love can be full of struggle and sadness but this difficult reality doesn’t take away from the significance giving and recieving love (experiencing realtionship) has on our lives, no matter how it ends.

definitely going to edit this later bc im writing at midnight again *bites lip* also i want to make it longer bc they were NOT JUST FRIENDS

#neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #evangelion analysis #evangelion anime #Kaworu Nagisa #Shinji Ikari #kawoshin #instrumentality #third impact #angels and humans

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

pls scream about Leo a lil bit cause my love for that man is neverending and i live for you guys' blog,,, and ur comte love fuels me??? head empty except for those two pureblood clowns

HNGNGNG I hope that both you and everyone that reads my shenanigans knows how utterly understood I feel when I see anyone stan Comte, if not both of those idiot purebloods bc good lord...I live for two tired fossil men that just want DOMESTIC BLISS. Literally they have no brain cells beyond respect women and we love that for us, it’s spectacular!!

Under a cut bc I went off and is long:

That being said I’d be happy to yell abt Leo!! Where do I even begin, this man was the reason I got into Ikevamp in the first place, and I’ve read just about every single one of his events at this point. He just makes me so TENDER!!!!!! For whatever reason the first thing that came to mind was this one time he lies about being jealous and MC is lolol u a fool if you think I can’t tell when you lie to me. And he’s so fuckiNG SHOOK?????? It’s even funnier because she’s internally like [I’m not 100% sure but for a second there he almost looked mad...time to test this theory even if it’s just A GAME T H E O R Y] And he’s so fucking pikachu meme that shit sends me. I can’t handle the fact that he’s so used to people just assuming he’s fine, that he can handle himself. That he’s lived for so long without really anyone noticing at all. (Comte absolutely notices and will lightly roast him, but doesn’t really push him about it or wants to overstep). And so when MC just actively pays attention and is so gentle with him he’s just floored???

God I’m crying now, but I will just never forget the funeral scene in his fucking rt. This asshole, this absolute moron, straight up tries to come at us with “yOu GeT uSeD tO iT aFtEr HaLf A mIlLeNiUm, i’M nOt SaD”. Like are you serious. Come here and let me hold you before I throttle you. Absolute clown. He’s just always trying so hard to get by on his own and it breaks my heart. How long...how long has he lived just getting by, nursing his own wounds and dragging himself up all by himself. HE LEFT HOME AT LIKE 14 (whatever the fuCK SOME TOO YOUNG AGE) AND RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE HANDS OF PEOPLE THAT HATED HIM FOR HIS TALENT. HE REMEMBERS HIS MENTORS DESTROYING HIS UTENSILS WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PARENTS THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY REJECTED ANY EXPRESSION OF LOVE OR COMPASSION FOR HUMANITY THAT HE CHERISHED SO DEEPLY. I DON’T NEED SLEEP I NEED TO HUG HIM IMMEDIATELY FUCKING HELL.

Like.........there’s just........I don’t know how to explain it, but I once saw it explained so well in a post. It was basically talking about Castlevania, and how in that show Dracula sees humanity’s folly and develops so much hatred he just goes straight to murder rage. And while in some ways I understand that, I understand even more deeply Trevor’s response to humanity’s fear and violence. He says that he knows they’re short-sighted, that maybe we all just don’t deserve saving...but that he’s going to do it anyway. Leonardo just so much gives me that energy of knowing there’s so much pain in the world, but all we can do is keep walking--keep trying, even if we have to claw our way forward. Because if you only see the awfulness in front of you, you forget the way that strangers make silly faces at babies to make them laugh on the train, how a friend will put everything down to race over to someone and comfort them with some ice cream--do anything they can to distract them from the hurt. How the sight of a child crying will prompt careful cooing from a stranger as to their bravery, an offering of cool water, the gentle placement of a bandaid. How a pair of teenagers will spot a lost child in milliseconds and help them seek out their parents protectively. There is so much wretchedness, but also so much beauty in it all, and the older I get the more I see myself wanting to believe in the latter. I want to be hopeful, and easily impressed, and full of love. To be bitter and jaded accomplishes nothing, and only becomes a worsening self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you seek negativity, the more you will find it; and worse, create it.

I also scream a little bit bc like. I’ve gone on and on about how Comte is very obviously in love with MC all the time, and sure that may be true. But...I really don’t think Leo is exempt from that either if I’m honest lmfao. Only because what does Leonardo do when it isn’t his route? He almost never shows up. Once in a while he might appear for a split second in a scene, but he almost never converses with MC beyond those short moments. While Comte is the one to pine openly, I’d wager Leo is the opposite. He pines in absolute silence, because he knows that if he gets any closer--he’s going to fall. He’s going to enjoy it too much, going to keep seeking out more before he can stop himself. And losing another person he loves...he just can’t do it anymore. In his first meeting story he talks about seeing MC’s eyes and feeling like he’d known them all his life, and even in his MS he speaks to just being completely fascinated by and enamored of her. She doesn’t hesitate, always does her best, meets people head-on and without much hesitation. After a lifetime of people that are probably just immediately interested in him for his talents, or always seeking out his company for the novelty, this is someone that doesn’t give a single fuck if he’s Leonardo da Vinci. Sure she’s aware, and sure she’s impressed to some extent, but her respect--her attraction and admiration--is something that has to be earned. 

There’s something so refreshing about how their love was written. Sure it’s the whole fake marriage to a real relationship, but it’s also a kind of subtle enemies to lovers pulled off masterfully. MC is 100% minding her own business, just wants to do what she must in order to get home, tries to focus on her work to keep from thinking about how much she misses her old life. She doesn’t rely on anyone, doesn’t talk about how hard it is or how scary it is or how confusing. And even Leonardo forgets in his curiosity, is just chillin and also just trying to do the bare minimum to keep from getting too attached--figures he can admire her from a distance. And then he sees her staring at the hourglass. And suddenly, he can’t just watch her do that herself. Just wait for the hard times to pass, just sit with her own loneliness--that hollowing silence. There’s something so moving about it because he reaches out precisely because he knows that feeling to his fucking marrow, and literally just cannot watch somebody else do that to themselves. Sure he’s been dealing with it for three hundred years, BUT THIS GOOD BABIE CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE THIS. SHE WORKS HARD AND DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!!!! And so he drives her crazy as he races ahead of her, intercepting any attempt for her to preserve that silence and hide. She doesn’t see any pattern to it, and that’s just how he likes it--he doesn’t want her to worry about the how or why. 

Like I fully remembering playing in Japanese and being like oh my fucking god this is hilarious, this man is just a wild fucker and I love this. I was enjoying myself, mostly laughing and shaking my head. But then it just gets so, so serious. I was having so much fun that I, like a fool, forgot the anime effect. If you’re having fun, it’s going to come crashing down without mercy soon enough. And it does. He helps a little girl without any hope play her violin again, and maybe I’m just too English major but I was fucking FLOORED when I realized I didn’t see that that was straight foreshadowing. That little girl without hope? That was MC (and by extension depending on how you play, us). Though the metaphor isn’t quite so easily mapped without a physical space, the connection is clear when you think about it. With his careful social awareness, he makes a place for MC to exist in the mansion so naturally--as though she was meant to be there from the start, crafts a positive impression of her presence with each of the residents. And he does it with zero expectation of anything in return; he’s just happy to see her not stressing herself out anymore or trying to do everything alone. MC doesn’t fall in love with him despite their differences, she falls in love with him because they are the same in a singular and all-encompassing way that matters; they both care about other people so deeply, to the point where they will forego any personal needs in order to make that person’s life easier. Whether it be muting their own hardship, or working to involve another person in a new space (or opening up to the point of self-destruction to keep a person from feeling alone), they go above and beyond what anybody asks of them--perhaps strong to the point of their own detriment, in some cases. 

It’s why I always laugh when he says to Sebastian “That cara mia, she has a good heart.” Of course she does, Leonardo; it certainly takes one to know one. 

And because I literally have no brain cells beyond being in fucking love with Leonardo THE LAKE SCENE IS AN AFFRONT TO MY DIGNITY AND SELF-CONTROL. HOW DARE YOU, SIGNORE. HOW DARE YOU ASK ME TO SIT THERE AND WATCH YOU OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME AND NOT BAWL MY EYES OUT AND TRY TO KISS YOU ALL AT THE SAME TIME. SIGNORE “hAhA yOu’Re So SmAlL yOu LoOk LiKe YoU’rE DrOwNiNg In My CoAt.” I WOULD DROWN AND DIE HAPPY--BITCH I TELL YOU THAT.

Like. I can’t think of another route I’ve ever done where I spent a good amount of time like “lmfao this guy is so wild im gonna punch him” to just be in a whirlpool of my own tears, regretting my entire fucking LIFE days later. Like Leonardo’s cultural impact???? Fucking immeasurable, I wish every white man disaster I ever met had a hidden heart of gold in all of his boyish dumbassery, an ICONIC himbo of our time. 

Also because I remembered it before posting and I am Dying^TM. The event where MC was a pureblood and he was human. That entire fucking event. I literally can’t think about it without screaming and crying. Her just so flustered at his reaction to her like “oh look, free real estate” as he plops her in his lap, absolutely no fear, treating her like a princess because of her noble title despite NO NECESSITY BEYOND PLAYFULNESS BUT ALSO STILL MEANING IT IN AN EARNEST WAY, being charming to no END just to see her laugh or look away shyly. 

WHEN HE SAID. WHEN HE SAID “...Can’t leave you alone, or you might go off someplace I can’t follow.” I. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU STRIPPED DEVOTION DOWN TO ITS BARE ESSENTIALS!!!!!! GAH HOW MC HERSELF SAYS “I would tell him the truth but...he’s much too generous for a human. I know he would offer his life without a moment’s hesitation.” How Leo describes the aftermath of her biting him: “Lucky for you, I’m a true gentleman, Unlike my principessa, who took me like a storm” HELLO??????? H E L  L O ???????????????????????? ARE WE JUST GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FACT THAT HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SOUL WHEN SHE BIT HIM???? I--

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(Also as much as I love him the cigarillos have got to go at some point, boy do you have any idea the shit secondhand smoke does good lordt)

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #can you feel me going through 800 different emotions in the course of writing this #fucking hell #he absolutely kills me i love him so much #would do ANYTHING for him #if you listen v closely you can hear the soft sound of me grabbing tissues #god i was just rewatching some of his events and i just #THE SHEER WARMTH OF HIS PRESENCE HOW IT WASHES OVER YOU WHILE READING #IM SHAKING AND CRYING I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #like leo is just one of those routes where its like 'my life was before and after this moment' #otome is honestly destroying my standards OTL #he just makes me feel So Much my coherence disappears #brain cells???? don't know her only Leo tiddy #in conclusion: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[throwing-summers-at-the-walls]

pull me out the train wreck, watching stars collide, and the ideas document !!

Thanks for the ask king ❤️

This got long lmao

• pull me out the train wreck

(warning for self harm & suicidal ideation)

Ok so I started this one in December last year. At that time I had to do a presentation for one of my German classes. Being the procrastinating clown that I am I didn't work on it. On the due date I pretended to have a connection problem and my teacher told me I'll do it later. 2 weeks later, the presentation is due tomorrow, I'm going insane with stress and self-hatred but am I working ? No lol. Here I am feeling like shit and listening to sad songs (the title is from Train Wreck by James Arthur). So I started writing this fic.

John hates himself and can't sleep/feels restless bc of it. He decides to just get out and pick a fight to spend energy and feel pain so he can focus on something else and get rid of all these nasty feelings. It kinda works, and he also punches a wall. Harold finds out and tends to his wounds. Later he tells a threatening number he doesn't care if he shoots him, then he has a nightmare and he feels like fucking shit so he punches a wall again and Harold finds him and takes care of him again. And idk how to finish it gkfkfkd bye. I was thinking about him replacing hurting himself with exercising but idk. It's. A complex issue that isn't solved easily so. Anyway snippet time

He punches the wall several times until he bleeds. The rage cools down and fades. He's left bloody, panting, and in pain. His hand is throbbing and he wonders if he broke something. He slowly comes back to himself. He feels drained and empty, but somewhat calmer. He walks back home, undresses and collapses on his bed.

His nightmare is interrupted by his phone ringing. Everything comes crashing down on him. His hand hurts. He moves to lie on his side but more pain comes. He sits up and discovers a nasty looking bruise on his chest, along with several smaller ones. His knuckles are sore and covered in dried blood but nothing seems to indicate a broken bone. At least he can't even remember what his nightmare was about. The ringing stops. He calls Finch back immediately to not seem suspicious – last time he missed several calls he was blackout drunk and Finch had watched him like a hawk for weeks.

• watching stars collide

Inspired by Shallows by Daughter (my beloved)

They go stargazing and they love each other and Harold tells John a legend about Ursa Major (I still haven't figured out if saying Ursa Major is common or not, or if everyone says the big dipper and Ursa Major is like fancy af). Not much plot mostly fluff. Also the legend is one I heard during a summer camp when I was a teenager. Harold knows French folklore that's just how it is. A short snippet bc it's a short WIP:

"You know what, Harold ?" He shifts to lie on his side. "The stars are beautiful but I prefer to look at them in your eyes."

Harold chuckles, and his face softens.

"I love you too."

• one random idea

Star trek TOS, K/S + body horror caused by a transporter malfunction. Body horror ideas so far: too many ribs ? One arm disappearing, the other arm receiving its bones ? Idk I don't really like these. There's so much fucked up potential with the transporters but no thoughts head empty unfortunately. Also the malfunction fucks up Kirk's brain and more specifically his bond with Spock. Snippet:

The warm, comforting presence of Jim in the back of his mind is gone, it turned into a wound, deep and infected and bleeding. Instead of the link there is only rot and blood. A part of himself has been ripped off. He's drowning in blood. His mind screams for the comfort of their severed bond. He's heard of Vulcans dying because of broken bonds and he understands now.

The conclusion of this post is that I abandon WIPs a lot. Rip to watching stars collide, it was almost over. Also thanks for asking for the ideas doc bc last night I thought about Spock feeling like his brain is bleeding but I just wanted to sleep so I didn't write it down, and it came back to me when I reread what I had written.

#wip folder meme #ask #i think i posted another excerpt from watching stars collide a while ago in response to another meme

[coquelicot-blues]

don’t go at sea without your life buoy

Spoiler alert for recent chapters (320 to 323)

Rating: Gen (but can be read however you want)

Characters: Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto

Summary: How I imagine Midoriya & Todoroki's reunion would go. Spoilers alert: there are waterworks.

WC: 1.5k

A/N: I keep thinking that I'd really like the manga to address the rift in Midoriya & Todoroki's relationship after everything that happened... so that's what I cooked up. Plz note tho that this is written in Midoriya's POV, and he does have a tendency to blame himself a lot.

Also, I just wanted to jot down my ideas, so it’s written in a play script format. Enjoy :)

___________________________________________________________  

Izuku has started wandering around the UA grounds, ducking through doorways or hiding behind bushes whenever he crosses paths with civilians to avoid conflict (bc his presence is still a sore subject). The grounds have changed a lot, become a true fortress and labyrinth to walk through, but he doesn’t mind wandering too much, because he is on a mission, and he will succeed no matter what. After four days of having stayed at UA now, he's started feeling more like a human being, and no longer like smelly, hungry, and weary beast. Being reunited with his friends and Mom has also really helped. Kacchan even talked to him without screaming once!

That said, there is still one person Izuku hasn’t found yet, hasn’t spoken to since his return.

And it’s an important person too.

So Izuku wanders around, looking for his friend.

He finds him on the rooftop.

IZUKU: Todoroki-kun!

SHOUTO: (looks up, but his expression remains schooled in an impassive mask, unlike the usual soft smile he'd normally greet Izuku with)

IZUKU: (arrives beside him) Hi. Can I sit here?

SHOUTO: (without inflexion) Of course.

IZUKU: (sits, slightly uncomfortable with this unusual atmosphere) I've been looking for you! You're the only one I didn't get to greet up to now.

SHOUTO: (hums. There is silence then, but it doesn’t last long, bc he suddenly says, as deadpan as ever) You bathed.

IZUKU: (scoffs) Yeah, even Sensei insisted on it.

SHOUTO: (nods absentimindedly) Good.

And this may seem like an improvement from Todoroki’s earlier conversational skills, back when he was still the not-here-to-make-friends Earlyroki, but Izuku knows it really isn’t, knows that this Todoroki right here is not really comfortable either in this situation because he’s just... he looks like a stone statue, not even looking at Izuku or smiling warmly at him. He’s just there. Not doing much. As if he were sitting with a stranger.

IZUKU: (steels himself) Ok, I know this may seem like a stupid question but... How are you?

SHOUTO: (without missing a beat) I could ask you the same.

And really, Izuku knows what this is, knows that Todoroki is now deliberately distancing himself, avoiding the question —which Izuku can relate to, since he himself also hates this question... He decides, tho, that if he wants to hear from Todoroki on this point, he has to show his own sincerity, his own willingness to reconnect.

IZUKU: I'm fi— (stops himself: old habits die hard, huh) I mean, it's been... hard, but seeing everyone really helps. (pointedly, he looks at Todoroki, both so that he can understand that he's purposefully included in the 'everyone', but also to prompt him to talk, which doesn't work... so instead, he continues) What about you?

SHOUTO: (still stonily) Likewise.

And it's just... it's awful, this conversation. No, it's actually excruciating, to have lost so much ground with Todoroki, to now only be allowed the normal platitudes he would reserve to a pesky stranger trying to pry.

It hurts.

But Izuku has never been a quitter, has he.

IZUKU: Todoroki-kun, I get that you're... angry with me. I just... I would really like to hear about you. I'm just worried is all.

SHOUTO: (suddenly, he shows the first sign of emotion by sighing deeply, something so weary that he seems to gain thirty years, suddenly) I'll be honest, Midoriya. (finally he looks at Izuku) I'm really glad you're here, because then we can know when you are safe, and when you are not, and we can support you the way you need to be, which is frankly all I could ever want right now... (stops himself, breathes, then peers into Izuku’s eyes) But I can't... Talking is not something I can do.

And Izuku thinks then that Todoroki really, really is the kindest person he's ever met. Because Izuku has always been able to read between the lines with ease —he's honed his observational skills enough throughout the years for it to become like second nature— and he understands that what Todoroki really meant —what he didn't say to spare Izuku's feelings— is 'Talking with you'...

So he blinks, nods furiously, and buries his grief with this cold, bitter acceptance of knowing one has tarnished a friendship that was once so pure and good and easy, to make it... different.

Painful.

Corroded.

IZUKU: I— I understand. Of course I understand.

Izuku looks down, stifles his tears, and waits for the inevitable. He knows Todoroki: he's not one to remain in an uncomfortable situation when he doesn’t have to, and Izuku won’t stop him, so he will leave, and Izuku will be alone...

Except that he doesn't: doesn't leave, nor let Izuku out alone on the rooftop.

They just sit in silence, Izuku wrestling with his tears while Todoroki just looks at the view.

And Izuku's heart, even as it breaks, mends just a tiny bit, because Todoroki is a good friend, and even if Izuku's hurt him, he won't leave Izuku alone when he himself is hurting...

And that's just... too much.

IZUKU: Just so you know, though, I really never wanted any of this to happen.

SHOUTO: (looks at him, eyes sad) Yes, I know.

IZUKU: (but this doesn’t feel like enough, so Izuku continues) No, you don't, though. I never meant to hurt you, Todoroki-kun.

SHOUTO: (unwavering) It hurt you too. This is a very heavy burden that you bear.

IZUKU: I mean yeah, it is, and sometimes I feel like I'll just crumble under the whole weight of it, but that doesn't change the fact that even as I tried to do what's best for everyone because of One For All and All For One, I ended up hurting you.

And Izuku selfishly —oh so selfishly— wishes Todoroki would just shake his head then and tell him that he's wrong, that Izuku didn't hurt him.

But contrary to Izuku, Todoroki has never been one to dish out white lies to make sure not to hurt people's feelings, has never been one to tell others that he's fine when he doesn't feel fine...

So when Todoroki only stares at him, Izuku can honestly say that it hurts, and it hurts so bad.

Because he hurt his friend.

Izuku hurt his best friend.

SHOUTO: (after a long pause) You didn't mean to.

IZUKU: (just can’t stop the tears from flowing, and flow they do) But I did. And that's the point, Todoroki-kun! (hiccups, then gulps, and continues) I just... There's so many people in your life that have hurt you, and I never —never— wanted to be one of them, but I am now, and I hate that I am! And I know there's nothing I can do to make it better, to make it not hurt, and I just hate myself for it! I don’t... I don't want you to hurt anymore. (buries his face in his hands helplessly) I'm so sorry, Todoroki-kun.

And Shouto doesn't say anything then... He just clears his throat, but stays otherwise silent. It's only when furiously wiping at his eyes that Izuku catches a glimpse of him and... oh, he's crying too.

In a much more subdued way, without making a fraction of the noises and sniffles Izuku is making, but the tears are there, and they're falling steadily, like a faucet's been opened and forgotten there.

And somehow, even as he feels that he's drowning in this sea of guilt and self-hatred and regret, Izuku feels just a little better knowing that Todoroki still lets himself cry in front of Izuku.

It somehow brings him comfort.

So they cry side by side, until the faucet runs out of water and they're both nursing stinging eyes and wet cheeks and dripping chins through the silence between them.

Until that silence breaks after a few moments.

SHOUTO: Do you... I've started sparring with Bakugou, to keep working on our Quirks and techniques. (long inhale, exhale, then he's looking at Izuku once more) Do you want to spar with me?

Suddenly, it feels like Izuku's just been thrown a life buoy, been given a second chance into the kindest person's heart, as if a once closed door is now suddenly ajar, and wow, this is his chance, and he will not let it go to waste.

IZUKU: Of course Todoroki-kun! Of course, I'll spar with you!!

SHOUTO: (nods) Ok.

But he doesn't move, and Izuku waits for him to do so until he suddenly understands what this is, understands that Todoroki meant it as a promise instead of some one-time event. As a promise meant to reconnect with his friend, but also as a way to keep him close for the foreseeable future.

To make sure that Izuku won't just leave again.

And maybe it’s futile, maybe Izuku will be forced to have to leave again soon in order to protect everyone, but his heart tells him that he has every intention to keep this promise.

To be a good friend to a good friend of his.

He'll just have to make sure that Todoroki knows it too.

#tumblr fic #my first tumblr fic #todoroki #shouto #midoriya #izuku #bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha 320 #bnha 321 #bnha 322 #bnha 323

[pomrania]

Great AO3 tags V

(I) (II) (III) (IV)

Taking a dive through the Magnus Archives tag, and here's some things I found. As before, only one tag per fic; so if some seem amusingly linked, it's a lucky accident. And since this is the result of me going through over 150 pages of AO3, it will be in multiple parts.

I am a touch-starved lesbian and that's everyone else's problem now

only sexy vampires allowed in this household

Victorians were kinky freaks

when you're bad at saying "I care" but great at knowing how to annoy the other person

seducing your monster boss as a way to get him under your thumb

the summary's pretentious im just a stem major whos doing their best to write okay

make sure to check which tabs are visible before you ask someone to fix your computer

pure visceral hatred for old rich men with libraries

the timeline of this is "I'm having fun"

the idea of road trips was only created by americans to cope with how outrageously big america is

working title for this was 'evil reprehensible men have been divorced 7 times & counting'

not canon compliant! everyone is alive and well definite

i didn't know that was a tag but i guess that applies

The Weed Socks Stay On During Sex

this is half meta half fic and half projection

Elias gets punched by a child and clawed by a cat

must a story be good? is it not enough for it to simply be extremely self-indulgent and sappy?

If you stop your husband being murdered in his sleep it probably does mean you like him

I can't be proven wrong in-between episodes

Need a beta reader but might just die like men without one

i hate that i feel deep emotions about these evil old men IN LOVE

nothing says lonely like sad masturbation on the sofa

i was absolutely drowning in sad gay bitch juice the other morning and this is what came out of it

listening to people ramble about their highly specific knowledge and interests is a love language

Character Death and Undeath (Not Necessarily Correlating)

we're all here for monsterfuckers... but what about monsterLOVERS.....

overuse of uk specific school words i will explain promise

this fic is meant to reach an audience of me

everyone has trauma and I Will make them talk about it

it’s just a lot of meta and it gets more and more meta each chapter that’s really all this is

Sentences That Don't Make Sense In Order To Evoke A Specific Emotion

i don't feel right calling this hurt/comfort so let's call it...bittersweet lol

i wrote this at 1am bc i wanted to be in pain apparently

honestly fuck America and their fucking werewolves

#fandom: magnus archives #no particular fandom #not a reblog

[elsaclack]

set the fire and let it burn

HI SO THIS IS 110% BASED OFF OF @startofamoment‘s ATLA AU IN WHICH JAKE IS A FIREBENDER!!!! WHICH IS AMAZING AND AWESOME AND EVEN THOUGH IT’S NOT COMPLETELY NECESSARY TO HAVE READ THAT PRIOR TO READING THIS YOU GUYS HAVE TO READ IT. RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY I’LL WAIT

okay ANYWAYS this is based on one little snippet from that fic bc i’m a trash goblin and i couldn’t stop thinking about it and erica only encouraged me (read: politely listened while i screamed about it in her dms and then VERY KINDLY allowed me to write and now publish this) so here it is: the firebending angst au spin-off from hell

(titled in my google docs as “i gotta get a new Brand but shit boi!!!!! this au is so good!!!!!!!”)

Beneath a flickering fluorescent light, in the only plastic chair not cracked from years of wear-and-tear, Jake Peralta sits alone in an emergency room waiting area. Between his fingers he compulsively spins a golden ring, fingertips occasionally catching on the green gemstone set along the band; he stares down at it with eyes that do not see, do not process, do not blink.

He’s been waiting here for the better part of an hour now - sitting here, mostly. Except for the thirty seconds during which he’d been certain his inner organs would finally manage to crawl right out of his throat, which also happened to be the first thirty seconds he spent here in this room, manically pacing, borderline running in circles. He’d visited the bathroom after that, because through the anguish clouding every other sense, he’d somehow registered that he needed to wash his hands.

(It isn’t until he notices the water rushing over his hands into the basin below runs red that he fully realizes why.

And in his reflection in the mirror behind that sink, he sees that same red liquid dotted on his cheek. He splashes water into his own eye in his haste to wipe that away.

It isn’t his blood.)

He’s been waiting here alone for the better part of an hour, except for when one of the healers approached him, her expression unreadable, the ring currently twisting around his fingers clutched in her hand intended for his safekeeping.

(It was apparently the only item of clothing salvageable - not that she told him that.

She didn’t need to.

He was there.)

He’s been waiting here alone for the better part of an hour now, and he finds himself wondering how many waited here before him - how many felt anguish gnawing at their throats, how many felt their bones crack beneath the weight of their uncertainty, how many plummeted into the inky black void of grief and heartache and loss.

How many struggled for air through lungs compressed by guilt and shame and the fear that they maybe, possibly played a role in what happened.

He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, focusing on the sharp bite of a band too small fitting snug around the first knuckle of his thumb, banishing the haunting echoes of an hour ago to the furthest corners of his mind.

She hadn’t cried.

He isn’t entirely sure what to do with that information - can’t fathom a situation in which he’d need to know that. But he has it, carved deep into his memories: Amy Santiago did not cry.

She’d screamed.

She’d yelped.

She’d rasped and trembled and gripped his shirt like a lifeline.

But Amy Santiago did not cry.

He cried. He hadn’t even realized it at the time (or afterwards, in all honesty), not with his hands so slick with blood he could barely keep a grip on her. He’d ripped holes in the knees of his jeans from skidding to a stop at her side and he’d pulled her up into his chest, out of the blood quickly pooling beneath her, into an unsteady and panic-stricken embrace.

She didn’t cry when she got shot - nor did she cry when he burned her to stop the catastrophic bleeding.

And really, it felt an awful lot like what he imagines having his very soul ripped out of his body would feel like, to press the sharp heat of his palm against her wound despite her hoarse cries of pain echoing off the towering alley walls surrounding them.

She didn’t cry, but she did pass out from the insurmountable agony of it all; the healers found them there on the ground, his inflicting hand shaking as he stroked her face, desperately begging her to open her eyes again.

And then they left him here, alone in the waiting room. They left him standing on a grimy tiled floor with his hands stained red, his face carved by glittering tear tracks, his heart ripped open in his chest.

She was still unconscious.

Her grandmother’s ring is far too small to fit on his thumb, or really any of his fingers, but he twists it around his fingers anyway, mimicking the movements he’s seen her do countless times before when lost in thought. It does nothing to drown the guilt out.

Years. He’s spent years learning how to control the fire raging within him. Years of intense focus, of tutelage, of unlearning deeply-ingrained self-hatred and suppression - and in the end, he still hurt the one he loves most. He’s certain it will be a lifetime before the look of sheer agony that had twisted Amy’s face the moment his palm pressed against her wound will even begin to fade from his memory, and even then he’s quite certain the sound she’d made - the guttural, heart-wrenching sound that he ripped from her throat - will never leave him.

The ring falls from his fingertips and clatters against the tiled floor between his feet; it’s only then that he registers how heavily he’s breathing, how blurry his vision has become.

Focus, Jacob, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Holt’s says, as clearly as though the man himself is seated right beside him. Benders have emotions, but emotions cannot have the benders. Focus.

He grips both arm rests on his seat and hinges his entire existence on them, eyes falling closed as he forces himself to inhale deeply through his nose. His lungs are rioting between his ribs and the edges of his teeth pinch the edges of his tongue, and he’s real. He’s real and present and his emotions are a hurricane in a cardboard box inside his chest.

He opens his eyes and the world is technicolor once again; the green gemstone on Amy’s grandmother’s ring winks beneath the flickering fluorescent light twelve inches from his left foot.

It’s as his fingers close over the ring that the waiting room doors slide open and a familiar healer steps into the room.

“Is she okay?”

The question springs up from somewhere deep inside him, spilling from his lips without a conscious thought. He blinks and he’s on his feet, clutching Amy’s ring like a talisman, and the healer’s face is kind and gentle where not blurred by unshed tears.

(So maybe he’s still working on the whole focusing thing.)

“She’s okay.” the healer says, and all of his senses fade for just a moment. He is the physical embodiment of relief, teetering on the precipice, seconds from floating away into the heavens at the weight of the world vanishing from his shoulders. “She’s resting now,” the healer says as he slowly comes back to himself, “but she would like to see you.”

“I-I didn’t,” he rasps, and then stops, words lost to the sharp emotions jutting up like icebergs in his throat. “I didn’t - hurt her?”

A look of understanding flashes in the healer’s eyes. “You must be the firebender,” she says slowly.

And for just an instant every last nanoparticle of self-hatred in the universe crashes down upon him like a tsunami rising from the deep -

“Cauterizing the wound was the best thing you could have done for her,” the healer says, voice gentle, and the unshed tears pooling in his eyes finally crest and drip down his face. “In fact, without that, I’m not certain we would have gotten to her in time. You didn’t hurt her.” Her hands close over his, her grip steady and warm. “You saved her life.”

He hadn’t felt himself crying in the alley, but he definitely feels every last poorly-restrained sob shuddering through his chest like aftershocks of an earthquake now. “Saved - saved her life?” he repeats hoarsely as the healer pats and releases his hands.

“Yes, sir,” she says with that same kind smile, “and I know she would very much like to thank you for that.”

He nods, swiping the back of his hand across his face, and shuffles blindly after the healer as she gestures toward the emergency room.

Amy’s sitting up in her bed when he gets to her, and though he recognizes all the signs of exhaustion in her face, her eyes still light up when she sees him.

And if he was crying before, he’s all-out sobbing now.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a mumbled rush, practically tripping over his own feet to get to her and her outstretched arms. She draws him into a tight embrace without a word, the muscles of her arms straining against him from exertion, and when she falls backwards against her mattress she traps his arms wrapped around her waist beneath her. He buries his face in her pillow, well aware of the fact that it’s soaking up his tears, and Amy’s hands are clumsy where she strokes his hair and shoulders.

She’s looking up at him when he pulls away minutes later, and in her eyes he sees blazing intensity, and her fingers wind around the collar of his shirt moments before she pulls him into a hard and unforgiving kiss.

“You don’t apologize to me,” she says, voice quiet and hoarse and so, so fierce, when he pulls away a moment later. “You saved me. Never apologize.”

He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes as the truth of her statement washes over him. “I know,” he whispers thickly, “but I had to hurt you to do it -”

“I don’t care, Jake,” she interrupts sharply. “I’m alive because of you. That’s all that matters.” Her eyes are still blazing when he manages to open his again. “You’re a good man. You used your firebending abilities to save my life. I love you more than anything in the universe, and -” she reaches up to frame his face in her hands “- I am so proud of you. Thank you, Jake. I love you, every part of you, so much.”

He lifts his hands to cover both of hers and turns his face so that his lips slide against her palm; he presses three kisses there, eyes never once leaving her face. “I love you, too,” he whispers into her skin, “more than you’ll ever know.”

He can tell there’s a part of her that would very much like to argue, a lighthearted and playful part he only sees when they’re goofing around or flirting, but the dark circles beneath her eyes seem to be carved deep into her skull and her thumb strokes weakly against his cheek; she merely smiles, soft and serene, and allows him to gently buffet her to one side of the bed so that he has just enough room to shimmy in beside her. And he falls asleep quickly to the sounds of Amy’s deep, even breathing, her grandmother’s ring snug against the second knuckle of his index finger, his face all but buried in her soft hair.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in years.

#brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago fanfiction #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #my b99 fics #startofamoment #:)))))) #idk how else to tag this i mean #READ ERICA'S FIC #IT LITERALLY DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE UNIVERSE

[guardiandae]

Meta/Commentary Part 1: A Little ‘XO’ Wouldn’t Go Amiss

(Spoilers below)

Wade finally learned his roomie's real name on day two, when the proposed nickname of 'Priscilla' was rejected via stabbing.

"Y'know- I usually know a guy's name before I let him penetrate me," Wade joked, gritting through the pain.

"My name is Nathan Summers. You can call me Nate. Or you can shut your whore mouth."

I’m gonna say this right now so when I finally finish the sequel of this fic, nobody can cry foul or anything or pretend that I didn’t plan everything all along from the very start of this journey: There’s a reason why Nate stabbed Wade and it’s not just to be an edgelord. This fic starts written in Wade’s POV and then switches to Nate’s, and there is so much more info revealed from Nate’s perspective that changes how interactions are colored. In the sequel, it’s not written in that style but eventually you will understand Nate’s POV and be able to look back on this (and other moments) and be like, Ah. I spent a few months just agonizing over this fic planning. The levels of depth going on here, you don’t know.

Also it’s hilarious because, the movie never really establishes Cable’s real name so hi, it’s Nathan Summers. Scott Summers’ (Cyclops)’s son, but like... older than him because future and time traveling hijinks or whatever. This is only important because like, daddy issues.

-

technically they were even sleeping together, even if Nate slept in the only bedroom because he'd called dibs and Wade slept on the couch in a pile of fast food wrappers.

Denial.

Living with Nate was weird after living with Vanessa for so long. No more kisses -- not like he wanted any.

Denial!

-

Usually when Wade got home, Nate was never there.  Hours later when Nate did come back, he'd just go to bed. Other times, Wade was hired for jobs that took days of travel to complete. There was little interaction between them and they barely saw each other, so Wade took to leaving little notes behind.

[Went to get milk. And also to put a cap in someone's ass. He's a bad guy though, so don't worry. I'll be home late. xoxo] [Forgot the milk. Also didn't cap the guy so I didn't get paid. Can you pick some up while you're out? xoxo]

So much info in one little spot. Nate only sees them as roommates, as a living arrangement and tenuous partnership to serve as an end to both of their needs. Nate has a place to live, and his only responsibility, as we learn in his POV, is to pay the rent on Wade’s behalf, with Wade’s money, because Wade is a disaster and his memory is getting worse. Not only is Wade just an annoying person who can’t take anything seriously, in his incorrect opinion, but there’s that level of guilt for feeling like a freeloader when Nate is the kind of person who’s had to fight just to survive his entire life. Wade’s little notes are so sweet, but to Nate, 1. weird 2. is this a joke? 3. stop reminding me of how much you care and meanwhile i can barely bring myself to write a note back, aaaaaa

I need to remember to revive the note-leaving between them in the sequel. It’s too cute, I can’t stand it.

-

Mercenary jobs had become harder to come by, and then work dried up. It was almost like nobody wanted to pay a guy to kill people anymore. As if there could ever be a shortage of people in the world who needed to die. But when one door closes, another opens -- everywhere he went, he suddenly saw slews of missing persons flyers. Wade had never noticed how many there were before, but he took it as a sign. He'd always wanted to try his hand at being a P.I. and Wade hadn't realized that the market was booming with families desperate to find loved ones. He offered his services as a private dick to several different people, but every single case was unsolvable. It was like they'd just vanished into thin air, but he knew that wasn't possible. It was frustrating to realize he was such a lousy dick.

Spoilers, but this is when the Thanos snap happens, and Wade is completely oblivious. Could someone who can be so devastatingly observant really be so obtuse? Or is his mind just protecting itself from such an incomprehensible reality that everyone else is suddenly saddled with? These are things Nate wonders later as well. Even I don’t know for sure. (I haven’t watched End Game and there’s still more plotline to tackle during the Snap, don’t @ me about how Marvel did it, I don’t know and I don’t care, I have my own plans)  (By the way, characters will either be snapped or inexplicably alive, and that’s not a plot hole, that’s the joke. Welcome to Marvel, the writers never fucking make sense and I don’t have to either, YEET)

[Someone tried to sell a metal arm on the black market????!! It better be Bucky's and not yours. Not like I care.] [It was Bucky's.]

Rip Buckkyyyyyy lmaooo

But also, cryyyy because Nate is busy trying to help deal with absolute fucking chaos and he didn’t really stop to consider whether Wade would be wondering what happened to him. Ow. Yeah, I think Wade definitely subconsciously registered what happened and is in total denial of reality. It’s better that way. Nobody fucking tell him.

-

There was nothing that he hated more than being ignored. Might as well just talk to himself. Which he did a lot of lately.

Foreshadowing.

-

All of the warmth left his body at once, leaving him a little breathless and dizzy. He was vaguely aware of Nate looking at him, but it was less of a 'you're home' and more of a ' why are you here?'

This whole area of the fic hurts so good because I’m gay and I love drama.

Wade coming home, literally bleeding to death on the inside and in shock because, once again, everything went to shit for him, story of his life. And he sees Nate just there, dressed down, relaxed, and has this little flash of domestic happiness because he so desperately wishes that the domestic happiness was real and that Nate actually was waiting for him and happy to see him come home, and the hard snap back to reality where Nate doesn’t even like him is soooo fucking painful lol end me. And on top of that, he misread Nate’s concern as hate/disgust for him bc that’s what he’s used to, and then he passes out on the floor and wakes up with Nate over him because I’m gay and I love drama!!!!

-

"Wade, you died for a second," Nate told him. Wade couldn't quite tell if Nate was concerned for him or just annoyed. "I had to pull a piece of metal pipe from your chest. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I got a… pipe in my chest," Wade said, pausing for breath. His lungs felt wet and heavy. He should've left the pipe in.

"Very illuminating," Nate deadpanned, letting go. "Anything else I should know?"

This moment where Nate is so very fucking concerned for Wade, but then Wade cracks a weak joke, because that’s how he copes, and Nate is like, wow, fuck it, so much for being worried about you.

[[SCREAMS IN GAY.]]

-

These thoughts didn't feel like his own, even though they had his voice. His mind was always scattered, full of thoughts that flowed nonstop like a babbling brook. Sometimes it took a lot of conscious effort to reign himself in and make sense of his own head. But these just popped out of nowhere, in bold print, in boxes that were separate from everything else.

"Am I going nuts?" he wondered aloud, whispering to himself, because honestly, he was a little afraid of his own head right now.

(A little late to be asking that.)

And this is when the ‘boxes’ manifest for Wade. But in this fic, the voices that manifest in his head are his own intrusive, negative thoughts. The depression, the loneliness, the self-hatred, the belief and fear that Nate hates him too.

-

I’m gonna recap vs a full copy and paste because the next bit is long:

-Wade is coughing up blood clots from his lungs in the morning, or trying to. -Nate is disgusted but also sympathetic and offers to help Wade out. -A really layered conversation occurs.

“Maybe if I drown myself in the bathtub, the blood clots will rinse out. What d'you think?"

Wade’s exhausted. Joking, but also dead serious. Nate is concerned about Wade making such a dark joke, but he also can tell that Wade really is struggling.

“I’ll help you.”

“Really?” Wade is relieved Nate wants to help him, at first, but then remembers he just said he wanted to drown himself in a bathtub, and becomes disheartened again because he remembers Nate doesn’t like him. “Oh. Yeah.”

From Wade’s point of view: Nate just offered to help Wade kill himself, because of course someone would get a kick out of drowning him, he’s annoying, yadda yadda.

From Nate’s point of view: Wade isn’t okay and he offered to help him with his problem, because he sounds desperate and Nate doesn’t think that jokes will help Wade with his mental state, nor will the drowning actually do anything to solve the problem (the blood clots festering in his lungs).

"I bet you'd love to hold me down and watch me struggle," he said, still thinking about the drowning idea. Then, in a flirtatious tone, "I'll make it good for you, baby. Just promise me we'll do it face to face."

From Wade’s POV: He’s making a joke about Nate drowning him, but also making a sex joke to make it funny, to mock Nate if he really does want to drown Wade, so maybe he wouldn’t do it, or maybe it’d be weird and interesting.

From Nate’s POV: Wade is flirting with him, and his humor and still really dark and Nate really shouldn’t laugh at it or encourage that kind of thing.

From Wade’s POV, seeing Nate trying not smile: ah holy fuck he really wants to drown me.

"I don't want to watch you struggle," Nate said. If he did, he'd just leave Wade alone to keep coughing up blood.

"Ah. Consensual," Wade nodded. "Okay, well, I'd be open to some over-the-clothes stuff, and whatever happens while I'm still dead doesn't count."

Nate couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think we're having the same conversation."

Wade is continuing the joke, because from his POV he’s like, whelp, this might as well be what happens.

But they really aren’t having the same conversation. There’s more like, four different conversations happening at once. Wade’s very sincere idea of drowning himself as a solution to his problems, and Wade joking about Nate drowning him as a sexual innuendo.  Nate interpreting Wade’s dark humor as a shitty attempt at flirting that he neither wants to encourage nor outright shoot down, and Nate offering to give Wade a better solution to fix his actual problem.

And Nate’s solution is to use his telekinesis to just... remove all the shit from Wade’s lungs. But he didn’t communicate that idea with Wade before just doing it, even if he did ask permission, so that’s pretty shitty and hence why we had to add the ‘Nonconsensual Telekinetic Heimlich Maneuver’ tag. smh

"That was dubious at best and now we have to add a warning in the tags," Wade sighed. "Non-consensual telekinetic Heimlich maneuver…. This is problematic now. People aren't gonna click on this."

-

This is a good spot to stop for now and continue in another post.

#self meta #reread #a little xo wouldn't go amiss

[groovenians]

big ass vent!!!

she thinks she’s just SUCH a special person. she’s SO empathetic and loving, always trying to make everyone happy, giving all she can and being selfless. oh and i’m an ungrateful selfish snake who controls her whole life and does whatever i want. i’m just like my father, i’m just like her bio mother. and i’m always so sweet and kind to everyone but her. she tries SO hard to be kind to me but i always act annoyed and aggressive with her. a poor unappreciated single mother and abuse victim who can never be happy.

and i cannot even fully explain how completely baffling it is to have to be around someone like that. she’s completely engrossed in her fucking fantasy and even though nobody ever calls it out we all know it bc her bullshit oozes through the cracks of her poorly constructed mask. now i’m not saying she’s never been through hard shit. i acknowledge the fact she went through hell and i know she’s dealing with a lot of pain. my issue has always been the fact she’s let herself drown in it. the last time she ever went to therapy was before i first started school, which is well over 15 years ago. she has no healthy ways of coping, she can barely act like an adult, and her suffering in every way defines her and she lets you know that bc it’s all she has to make herself feel good. anyone who tries to question her ends up being screamed at. she mocks people for the same things she says she was traumatized for. she’s nothing more than a hallow, selfish, childish, self absorbed, control freak abusive nutcase.

she thinks that bc she’s idk.....acted like a parent to the bare minimum that makes her the best mother ever or something??? and it’s not like i’m ungrateful for all the things she’s done for us for a bit of fun but buying us things isn’t going to makeup for the emotional void she’s left in our lives. having to grow up an a severely mentally ill trans kid with no one to really rely on was fucking hard. having to unlearn a bunch of toxic traits and self hatred was really hard. not being taken seriously when discussing my symptoms that left me feeling like i was literally insane was really hard. having to be my own parent was really hard. having to admit to myself i was becoming someone like her was really hard. and on top of that dealing with her abuse??? while living in my old house, in my room with no privacy ever, going to a school with no real friends and the ones i did get close to ending up hurting me, yeah fuck that was a lot of shit. it cut really deep. uhhh yeah

so like. yeah i hate her and i’ll never forgive her for any of it. maybe me moving out and having her family take my side will be a little wake up call. lol. who knows but at least i won’t have to deal with her like i do anymore. may god watch over me during this time bc dude is in for a show.

#mothers m #abuse m #general heavy shit ig idk

[clay-air]

IT Reddie/Stanlon/Benverly In the Flesh AU

Losers are in their early/mid-thirties.

Living: Bill, Ben, Mike

PDS sufferers: Georgie, Beverly, Stan, Richie, Eddie

Five years ago, the dead rose all around the world, and the small town of Derry, Maine, was no exception. Halfway into the zombie apocalypse, a breakthrough drug called neurotriptaline allows the risen dead to regain their senses—rebranded as Partially-Deceased Syndrome sufferers, they receive treatment and begin to be integrated back into the communities they nearly destroyed. Derry was never the most tolerant of towns, and to no one’s surprise the surviving townsfolk are incredibly hostile to the returning PDS sufferers. It is in this setting that seven Losers—each damaged in their own way by the events of (and prior to) the Rising—find each other and start to heal.

Disjointed outline and notes below the cut: I will definitely never actually write a fic for this bc I am pathologically incapable of turning my ramblings into a cohesive story with a plot and all that, so everything is up for grabs!!  If you do get inspired by my musings and write or draw something, please lmk!!!  Also feel free to comment with your own thoughts/ideas/headcanons!!!!

Warning for references to: suicide, homophobia, spousal/parental abuse, hate crimes, self-harm scars, violence

Bill Denbrough gets his baby brother Georgie (their age gap is a lot bigger in this AU) back but has to deal with the residual guilt he still feels about his death (an accident Bill maybe could have prevented). He saw Georgie after he’d risen, missing an arm and eating a dude (alternatively, Zombie!Georgie actually kills Bill’s wife Audra bc Bill hesitated over shooting him, and Bill has to deal with that while also trying to make sure Georgie doesn’t find out/remember what he did) and was the one to restrain him so he could be sent to the treatment center.

Ben Hanscom loved Beverly Marsh from afar until she went missing (killed by her abusive husband who later died during the Rising) and when she comes back to Derry from the treatment center with no one waiting for her, he decides this time he’ll actually step up and be there for her. Of course he has to actually get her to trust him first. She vaguely remembers him as a guy who was always nice to her, but it’s dangerous to assume that anyone in Derry has less-than-homicidal feelings regarding those with PDS.  Beverly is starts off nervous and flighty, but eventually adopts a very “middle finger to the whole damn town” attitude, and, despite her initial reservations, finds that the words of a certain Undead Prophet are starting to resonate with her....

Stanley Uris committed suicide before rising from the grave, and he’s trying to find a reason to stick around for his “second chance at life” that he never wanted in the first place. Can he finally move past the cloying, suffocating fear he felt every second he was alive now that he no longer has any need to “fear the Reaper”? He finds companionship in Mike Hanlon, a quiet man who defended his farm on the outskirts of town all by himself during the Rising, luring the Risen who wandered on to the property into a barn and keeping them inside once he heard about the successful neurotriptaline trials. Mike’s refusal to join the Human Volunteer Force during the Rising (he didn’t want to kill anyone, zombie or not) earned him the scorn of the already-pretty-racist townsfolk.

Richie Tozier was the victim of a homophobic hate crime, and now because of bureaucratic bullshit (reintegrated PDS sufferers need to be incident-free for a minimum of three years before they can change their address) he has to come back to the very same town that loathed him enough to kill him. Also they have another reason to hate him now! He’s trying to take it in stride (or at least outwardly appear like he’s taking it in stride) but his murderer, Henry Bowers, is basically a town hero for helping form the HVF, and he’s using his status in the town to make Richie’s already pretty miserable half-life hell. Things start turning around for him when he finds a reason to stop playing hooky and actually show up for the Give Back program: another PDS sufferer who is wound up tighter than anyone he’s ever met, is absolutely CAKED in flesh-tone makeup, and whose snapped insults in response to Richie’s trashmouth antics don’t carry the now-familiar hatred behind them that he’s become accustomed to. Also he’s cute as fuck. But damn, gay thoughts come with a lot of baggage after being gay literally got you killed.

Eddie Kaspbrak succumbed to slow poisoning by his mother, who’s Munchausen by proxy escalated with deadly effects. Unfortunately, once he’s released from the treatment center Eddie has nowhere to go but back into her open arms. She refuses to acknowledge what she did to him, and starts using his daily neurotriptaline doses as a new way of controlling him (Eddie is absolutely PETRIFIED at the thought of going rabid). Ironically, his only moments of freedom happen when he’s at work for the Give Back program (his mother’s protests that he’s too frail to do manual labor don’t really hold up under the fact that he’s kind of unkillable now?) where he meets a fellow PDS sufferer who’s an irredeemable trashmouth but who treats him more like a human being than anyone ever has, even counting before he was a literal zombie. And no, Eddie does not think he’s fucking funny. He doesn’t.

Featuring:

- Beverly supplying Eddie with DIY neurotriptaline she learned how to make from the ULA website so he can get out from under his mother’s thumb, which he accepts after an hour-long tirade about how she doesn’t know if it’s safe or even STERILE (“Eddie, honey, I don’t think we can get infections anymore” “it’s the PRINCIPLE of it, Bev!”)

- Mike showing Stan that all the bird species he saw in the woods when he was alive are still there, and that the Rising didn’t destroy everything good in the world, also introducing him to his secret library

- Bill bringing Georgie to Mike’s farm so he can see and work with the animals (and also so he isn’t in town where someone might mention Audra). Mike is somewhat disapproving of Bill’s not telling Georgie what happened, but he sympathizes, and tries to help both brothers work through their trauma. (Stan eventually convinces Mike that he should be taking care of himself too)

- Ben struggling to convey to Beverly that he genuinely wants to be her friend (and more) and help her (Bev: “Oh wait are you one of those guys who finds the whole ‘undead’ thing hot? Why don’t you go to the PDS brothel then and leave me alone?” Ben: *internal screaming*)

- Richie and Eddie building fences at 1/6th the pace of all the other pairs of Give Back program “volunteers” bc they can’t stop ribbing each other and arguing and also Richie might’ve made it his new-life’s purpose to get Eddie to smile and laugh as much as possible. “Do you even still need glasses, asshat?” “The better to see you with, my Spaghetti” “Don’t fucking call me that”

- turns out Richie and Beverly sort of hunted as a group during the Rising (a la Kieren and Amy) and now they like to get together in the Barrens, get high off sheep brains, and try not to have panic attacks about what they did while unmedicated. Bev confesses that while she hates the slow-drip of returning memories of the Rising, she hopes that one day she’ll remember being the one who killed her husband because that would mean she got her revenge in the end. Richie offers to help her jog her memory by reenacting it with him starring as her husband, but she just laughs and punches him in the arm. “Be glad I can’t feel pain anymore, Marsh, that seemed like it might’ve done some serious damage” “Beep beep, Richie”

- insert that ep 1 scene with Rick’s dad dragging the neighbor’s PDS wife into the street and shooting her, but replace with Bowers killing Adrian Mellon as Bill  watches from through the curtains across the street with Georgie’s head tucked into his chest so he can’t see

- Stan slowly coming into his own through what starts off as relatively harmless acts of rebellion against Derry but escalates to all the Losers having a blast vandalizing their own graves. “Honestly Richie, I’m surprised your epitaph wasn’t ‘blessedly silent at last’” “Woah! Stanley gets off a good one!”

- Richie visiting the Kissing Bridge where he was caught halfway carving his name + ??? by Bowers’ crew and was brutally beaten before being thrown into the river. Looking back, it was hardly a crush worth getting killed over, but this time he feels like he’s drowning in his feelings (of fucking course it would feel like drowning) and he’s terrified. Carving a shaky “E” where he never got to finish his declaration last time takes some of the weight off his heart.

- Ben finally getting Beverly to realize that he’s been in love with her since long before the Rising by telling her that he was the one who wrote the anonymous postcard she received a few months before she died, and showing her all the other poems he’d written over the years. “January embers”...

- Bill and Mike helping Eddie gather proof that this mother was responsible for his death by combing through Derry police records and autopsy reports (also hey, turns out you can still detect all those poisonous chemicals in his partially deceased body!) and using it to get him essentially emancipated and his mother arrested. Eddie moves in with Richie afterwards and being in close proximity all the time brings both their feelings to a boil.

- Georgie does eventually remember encountering Bill and Audra during the Rising. “I died, and you lied”. He runs away into the Barrens where he meets a strange PDS sufferer who wears clown makeup instead of the usual flesh-mimicking stuff...

- the creeping emergence of a ULA splinter group led by Pennywise that starts haunting at the edges of Derry and stoking the fires of the townspeople’s fear against the Risen. Eventually they kidnap Georgie to their weird sewer cult dungeon under Neibolt bc they think he’s the First Risen (lol sorry dudes, wrong side of the pond), and the Losers have to gear up and go get him back before a fucking clown EATS HIM to bring about the Second Rising.

Physical appearances:

Eddie: wears his contacts and makeup religiously until he is able to escape his mother, at which point he starts to let loose a bit (it helps that Richie says he’s still adorable, even tho Eddie would never admit to that). He has a gash in his cheek and a huge puncture wound straight through his chest, both of which he sustained during the Rising.

Richie: wears glasses even tho he doesn’t technically need to anymore. Gave up on the whole makeup thing pretty early bc it was a pain to apply, but he does sometimes wear the colored contacts when he’s out and about for the Giveback Program. He’s covered in cuts and blue/purple bruises that he sustained in Bowers’ attack, and has a big nasty stitched-up gash just above his hairline from hitting his head on a river rock.

Beverly: makeup and contacts whom? She has a pretty conspicuously hand-shaped bruise around her neck that she tends to cover with scarves tho

Stan: wears the makeup and contacts, but is much better at making them look natural than Eddie is. Matching scars on each wrist that he keeps covered all the time. A bullet hole in his side from the Rising.

Georgie: wears the makeup and contacts. Missing an arm (injury sustained during the Rising)

#it steven king #In the Flesh #reddie #stanlon #benverly #writing ideas #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #stanley uris #bill denbrough #georgie denbrough #i wrote all this in the Notes app at 3am bc the idea possessed me like some sort of benevolent fanfic demon #not art

[gionamim]

BRIANNE TJU,  CISFEMALE, SHE/HER.  —  looks  like GIONA MIM is  attending   AURORIA UNIVERSITY  in  auradon.  they’re  the  NINETEEN  year  old  child  of MADAM MIM,  which  means  they’re  from  THE ISLE OF THE LOST.  heard  they’re  SOCIABLE  &  LOYAL,  but  can  also  be  RECKLESS  &  FORLORN  ;  we all have our bad days.  people  normally  associate  them  with  LETTING MUSIC LEAD YOUR BODY , MUSHING A PIE ONTO SOMEONE’S FACE , STOMPING AROUND IN BOOTS TOO BIG TO FEEL POWERFUL ,  CLOSING THE DOOR SO NO ONE SEES YOU WISHING ON A STAR —  

hello hello !!! it took me way too long to plan this child but now that she’s here im so excited for her !! pls if u like cabaret, magic, baking, and bitching, then step right up !!!

[ PROFILE ]

NAME: giona giulietta mim

NICKNAMES: gg

AGE: 19 

HEIGHT: 5′1″ (smol)

BDAY: november 2 ( scorpio! )

BIRTHPLACE: camelot

DEATHPLACE: .....camelot

FEATURES TO NOTE:

vk colours: pink and green and black

tattoos of constellations dotted and lined on her left calf: the lyra, and scorpio

dotted by herself

she has no pulse, no heartbeat

she doesn’t bleed

body temperature is cold

her skin heals quicker than average, if damaged

DOESN’T LOOK ‘DEAD’ (no dead skin, no disconnecting limbs)

she actually looks pretty perfect lol thats the star in her heart ayyy

when she’s truly happy*, she glows (like a halo around her head)

*truly happy = well ..... it’s a case-by-case basis

ON THE ISLE: it wouldn’t have been a full halo ... just more like a sparkle in her eye 

[ BACKGROUND/ SUMMARY AT THE END OF THIS SECTION  ]

madam mim has always been an average witch, but the way she gains excessive power momentarily is by eating the hearts of other witches, wizards, and magical creatures. this was how she fought merlin, way back when. and when she was defeated, she was furious, distraught, ashamed, embarrassed, but mainly furious

she spent years trying to find the perfect heart to consume, the one that would give her the ultimate power to defeat merlin once and for all (petty bitch)

she REALLLYYYY just hated losing and its SO PETTY BUT SHE LETS IT DRIVE THE REST OF HER DAMN LIFE

and it took her years and years. TOO LONG, in fact. because by the time she found one, the creation of the isle of the lost had been found, and she was running out of time.

she figured out that the way to beat merlin was to use his own tools against him: LOVE, BELIEF, GOODNESS. and she was losing power, so there were no pure hearts to be found easily (though snow white had plenty of children, they were too heavily guarded), so she sought other means. 

she studied the lore of stars. she charted, planned, and waited for the next fallen star. it is said that if you were to consume the essence of a star, you would be filled with the purest magic of all, an everlasting, and sustaining magic. 

a week before she’s meant to be thrown into the isle, she finds a star. 

but it’s not all she thought it would be. the essence of the star was so pure, it was fading in her evil hands. in its raw form, it refused to be consumed, let alone touched, by her. so she wrapped it up in a cloth (its light already fading slowly), and scurried away, seeking another way to keep the star and ultimately eat it. 

bear in mind this is all just to defeat merlin 

she experiments quickly, using millifractions of the star and testing it on different creatures: she finds out that if she chooses the little woodland creatures and let them eat the heart -- and she eats their hearts...she’s awashed with the intense magic. 

but how to find a large enough heart that will stay alive all these years in the isle? she decides to find her child. the child she abandoned decades ago, the one where she can’t even remember where she left it. 1 year old, wandering the woods, died in the cold of winter. but she knows where it would have gone -- to the land of the dead.

and there, she finds a wizened old skeleton (elder gutknecht) telling her that she simply cannot take the dead out as she pleases -- but madam mim uses the last of her magic to find a way and now she finally has a capsule in which to keep the essence of the star

she keeps it in her daughter’s heart. and as soon as it is in there, the girl comes back to life -- well, an almost-life. she has no blood rushing through her veins, no heartbeat. she doesn’t feel pain or exhaustion as a living girl does. 

on the isle, mim begins a MIM’S MUSICALE -- a cabaret show and dinner theatre. giona is the cleaner and the waitress, as soon as she was old enough to carry a tray of food and a mop&bucket. it helps when your child’s half-dead and somehow seems more energetic at night. 

this is where mim’s ego truly thrives bc even tho she’s lost her shapeshifting powers, its still like 7 nights a week, ppl going to HER place to watch HER perform (like they have a choice lmao)

probably gives herself awards

fast forward to 12 yrs old: mim is settling into isle life but still impatient for when she and the other villains can break out. she hears giona singing while washing the dishes from the night before. the girl can sing. and, yes she was losing patrons bc mim’s performances are just too abstract for ppl to like (clearly). so she forces giona to become the new act. makes her perform, sing, dance, every night. 

mim almost forgets that there’s a star in this girl’s heart. she almost forgets, until she sees those small moments when giona’s in the kitchen, when she thinks mim can’t see her; baking a small cupcake from whatever ingredients she could find, and though there’s no magic allowed on the isle ... there is still something unnaturally bright about that girl. and she hates her for it. 

this ‘goodness’ and ‘purity’ thing is very merlin-y and she HAAAAATES THAT

HATES SUNLIGHT, HATES BRIGHTNESS, HATE, HATE, HATE!!!

BLACK SORCERY IS IN !!! MERLIN IS OUT !!!!!

so she works giona to death (sort of). and tells her she’s ugly. and bullies her into low self-esteem. 

16 years old: mim is getting more restless about being trapped in the isle. she decides to take action again. she begins to teach giona the mim magic, which is hexes and jinxes and shapeshifting, and ofc, a hatred for merlin. 

but by this time, giona’s made up her own mind about her life. and she won’t let her mother live it. 

SUMMARY: giona was dead and brought back to life with star-essence that mim put inside her heart, so she will eat the heart when giona breaks her out of the isle and then she’ll use that star magic to destroy merlin and be considered the greatest sorceror once and for all mwahahahaha. also the star thing is a complete secret, mim hasn’t told ANYONE and giona has no clue about the glowy thing.

WHAT CLOSE FRIENDS OF GIONA WOULD KNOW:

she has no heartbeat, her body is sort of cold, doesn’t bleed, doesn’t need as much sleep

probably if they’re the kind of friends that like ... are genuinely good for each other lmao, they probably saw a bit of giona’s ‘glow’ when she’s truly happy

[ PERSONALITY ]

100 bad bitches can’t tell me nothin’

still a sort of mini-mim because giona also has a very short temper and is prone to just .... never letting things go lmao 

hates her mother: found out at a young age that actually, she’s not ugly, and she’s not stupid and she starts to drown out mim’s nagging and bullying

but still, in the middle of the night (bc for some reason she feels more active at night and cant sleep), she hears her mother’s voice in her head and cries herself to sleep

loves music & shows & plays & acting & performing:  but hates being forced by her mother to do everything. she hates being forced to sing by someone, she hates being told what to do

hate hate hate !!!!

loves to bake: little cupcakes and muffins and baked goods, and cookies ofc, and bread, she loves to make all kinds of bread and pastries. at least, that’s the dream. on the isle, she’d be lucky if she could find clean flour. so far, she’s only made cookies and tiny cupcakes.

these foods are only reserved for her friends, and they are all SWORN to secrecy that they will never tell her mother

loyal to a fault: once she feels she can trust you, she will never let u go. it’s ride or die. growing up with a mother hell-bent on hating her, she began to appreciate the few friends she made on the isle, and will do absolutely anything for them

still tho she’s like ..... she’s a bitch first and a friend later 

loud as hell and speaks her mind and would probably get a tattoo that says NO RAGRETS.

loves magic: CAN’T WAIT TO USE HER POWERS AND TURN INTO ??? A BIRD ???

doesn’t know anything about her heart: all she knows is that her mother tells her to keep herself safe, otherwise all that “business of trying to bring you back to life will be for nothing”. 

so yeah, she knows she was dead. but she just believes her mother used necromancy to bring her back, and it clearly didn’t work the whole way because she’s not fully alive

but you wouldn’t even know it unless you tried to find a heartbeat

[ how they feel about heroes/villains ]

giona only hates one thing for sure that is her mother lmao

merlin ???? will be fun to see but like otherwise doesnt give two shits, will probably praise him and send him a cupcake to thank him for defeating her mum

operates on a “if you mess with me, i will mess with you back” basis

doesn’t want to join any squads that plan to ‘ruin auradon’ because to her its just hakuna matata bro let it go why can’t you just be happy we’re actually here ?? lets fuckin run away !!!

[ CONNECTYONS ]

from the isle:

VKs who regularly came to MIM’S MUSICALE and saw her perform! she will hate the reminder ty 

MIM probably also hired a few weekly performers, ppl who performed once a night so if ur muse was a performer on the isle pls hmu !!!! 

VK friends that giona met and has them try her tiny baked goods 

they must love the cupcakes and cookies OR ELSE >:(

now in auradon:

those who know magic, who would investigate/recognise why she glows when she’s ‘truly happy’ and tell her that she’s a STAR and that her mother is probably planning to EAT HER

DEAD PEOPLE TO BOND WITH OVER BEING DEAD 

women/nb to squad up with and go shopping with and basically pls give her a girl squad she will fight anyone for you and you can do each other’s nails and just MAKE HER TRULY HAPPY W REAL FRIENDS AAHHH

someone to show her the kitchens :0 and take her grocery shopping :0

MAGIC PPL TO TEST-DRIVE MAGIC WITH. i’m talking fun duels, and pranking people pls.

musicals ?? to join ??? where she can finally play the roles she wants to play, and sing the songs she wants to sing ??? amazin

[ MAD MIM MAGIC ]

shapeshifts into any animal !

shapeshifts their size ! can be teeny-tiny or gigantic

shapeshifts their features to look a little different ??? like can look hideous, or more beautiful, or taller, or with bigger ears -- but can’t change into a whole other person

potions and hexes and jinxes take more concentration, but she can do it

[ NOTES / STAR THINGS ]

oKAY SO !!!!

the star part is greatly inspired by Stardust, the movie, especially the part about her glowing when she’s truly happy

mim is essentially growing her child to one day be able to eat her heart, gain the infinite powers, and defeat merlin

but since giona is the star (over the years, the star became a part of her heart), rather than someone who consumed it, the magic works differently for her. so she glows, and she heals easily, and she is awake more at night. with giona, the star ecomes a way of being rather than a power-source.

if her heart were to be taken out, she would go back to being dead, with no hope of a second life as an undead or zombie, because the star is the only life giona actually has. once it is gone, she is nothing.

giona can still do all of madam mim’s typical magic ! shapeshifting is the big one, and her thing is pink-green coloured animals. 

#usoa:intro #dear GOD #this took me 3 DAYS TO FIGRUE OUT #but i goT THERE EVENTUALLY #HERE'S MY CHILD

[daisybaeks-archive]

adagietto | baekhyun

Genre: Angst, AU

Pairing: Baekhyun x female!reader

warnings: themes of death (no violence or blood though), copious amounts of musical terminology

listen to this while you read

also i want to tag angst queen @kyungiebaby​ bc a) i can, and b) this is payback for all the angst you’ve written

“Wie ich Dich liebe, Du meine Sonne,  ich kann mit Worten Dir’s nicht sagen.  Nur meine Sehnsucht kann ich Dir klagen  und meine Liebe, meine Wonne!” 

Having your own private suite in concert halls is something that isn’t entirely new to you, but this time is different. You can feel it in the way the ushers look at you with sympathy in their eyes, in the way the audience members floating to their seats bow their heads respectfully when you cross paths, in the way you are all alone in your little balcony, no presence by your side. 

You didn’t expect the concert to be so soon. Didn’t think you would have to leave your house and face the snobs dressed in their cocktail dresses and well-worn tuxedos. Didn’t think you’d have the strength to sit through movement after movement, piece after piece. 

But here you sit. Alone. Tugging at the sleeves of your dress because it’s too cold, concert halls have always been too cold for you.

Baekhyun would always give you his suit jacket.

The orchestra onstage is warming up, flying through notes that you know so well, have heard so many times that you hear them in your dreams. Fluttering melodies and heart wrenching symphonies surrounding your subconscious in a never-ending cacophony. Your pulse beats in time to the music, your breathing signals the cues.

It isn’t long until the concertmaster appears, eliciting the polite applause from the audience. She bows, and from this distance you recognize her. If there was anyone who loved Baekhyun, knew Baekhyun, as much as you, it was her, a talented violinist who worked with your husband often. You wonder if she feels the same pain, knowing that this is the last time a Byun Baekhyun piece will debut. 

She raises her violin and plays an A that echoes, haunting the hall.

The concert begins.

–

Empty. Your home was empty, void of the absentminded plucking of strings, the humming of imperfect melodies, even the droning of the television. There was nothing, a hole of silence where an orchestra of sound once played.

You weren’t sure whether you found solace or heartbreak in the fact that Baekhyun’s death hadn’t changed a thing about it.

--

“How much do you love me?”

“Not at all, I hate you.”

“Ha.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Hmm. I love you more than there are notes on this page. More than the stars in the sky. More than, um, sheep on a farm?”

“That was terrible.”

“This is why I write music, dummy. I’m no good with words.”

“It’s okay. I love you anyways.”

--

You didn’t leave your bed those first few days.

Your friends brought in food that lay mostly untouched on your nightstand, sat next to you in silence and rubbed your back. You said nothing, just tucked the blanket tighter around yourself until they left.

You didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Didn’t feel anything. The thing you loved most in your life had been ripped away, yet you were hollow. A shell. An empty auditorium with only ghosts as an audience.

This is how he must have felt, you thought, closing your eyes.

--

World famous composer dies in hospital

Byun Baekhyun, 42, was declared dead this morning.

Health troubles and emotional strain have been plaguing the composer for the past two years. After a long battle, complete with multiple hospital visits and long periods in which he wouldn’t leave his house, he passed away this morning in the company of his wife.

Byun is world renowned for his emotional works. He started composing at the age of seventeen, and has since written a total of ten symphonies and a number of other pieces. He is praised for his ability to make people feel the deepest of human emotions.

News of memorial services are still to come. Members of the family have not made any comments at this time.

--

It started with his hearing.

After he started going deaf, Baekhyun started drifting. He would spend more time alone, silently staring off into space. You caught him more than once snapping near his ear, expression twisted with frustration and self-hatred. He’d press keys on the grand piano, eyes screwed shut in concentration. His hearing wasn’t completely gone yet, but it was fading quickly.

You’d gently grab his shaky hands and press them against your heart. He looked scared, you had realized. He was terrified.

You lay your head against his chest and swayed with him to a melody only you could hear.

--

“Baekhyun!”

“God, sorry. Yes?”

“I was asking what you wanted for dinner.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Baek…”

“I’m not!”

“You need to eat something.”

“What’s the point?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I can’t hear. I can’t make music. I can’t listen to music, God, I can’t even hear you properly. I can’t do anything. What’s the point?”

--

His studio was untouched.

In the corner, his violin. On his bookshelf, picture frames of the two of you. On his desk, a mess of papers.

Steeling yourself, you made your way to the desk and began flipping through the debris. One of Baekhyun’s friends had just needed some confirmation for the memorial service, some document that he had stored.

You brushed aside some letters and found a score.

Your heart leapt into your throat. It had been two years since Baekhyun had written anything, and you definitely had never seen this piece before. It was finished, and had been for a while.

You turned the last page of the score over and found a poem, scrawled in messy handwriting.

--

Memorial service for Byun Baekhyun

A concert will be held in memory of renowned composer Byun Baekhyun. The program will feature many of his most recognizable pieces, as well as the debut of his very last piece, discovered posthumously by his wife.

--

“I’m dying.”

Stop. Don’t say that.

“It’s okay.”

I need you.

“You have to be strong for me.”

Baekhyun.

“I love you.”

Don’t.

“I love you.”

--

It ended with his heart.

The loss of his hearing was devastating. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. He kept you up during the long hours of the night, pacing back and forth in your bedroom when he thought you were asleep. He was caught in his own head a lot, always thinking and disappearing into his studio. The pain and neglect weakened his body. You could see it in how thin he was, the bags under his eyes.

It was the heartbreak that killed him.

--

“I’m gonna be famous one day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m going to write something so great that I’ll be world famous. Tchaik got nothing on me.”

“Okay, slow down there, hot stuff.”

“Oh you think I’m hot?”

“Shut up. God. Why do I like you?”

“Aww you like me, that’s cute.”

“I’m going to break up with you.”

“Wait, no, please, I’m sorry!”

“I’ll forgive you if you write something for me.”

“For you?”

“Yeah. And it better be beautiful.”

--

The piece is so him.

You let the melody overwhelm you, drown you in sound. It soars and thunders, whispers and cries. It’s passion and fury and gentleness and love.

You sit in your seat alone, but you feel Baekhyun next to you. You feel him twirling you around darkened streets, feel his fingers in your hair. You hear his laugh and his see his smile. You feel his warmth around you, enveloping you and swallowing you up. You hear him telling you that he loves you.

For the first time in a long time, you remember a time before Baekhyun was sick, when you were so, so in love. When there were no doctor visits or sleepless nights or pretending not to hear the broken sobs in the hallway. When there was only music, a steady stream of melodies.

You don’t applaud when the audience erupts after the last note rings into the air. A sob escapes your throat, unheard. A blaze of tears run down your face.

You place your head in your hands, your body wracking with the cries you’ve held in for so long. Each one is overpowering, fortissimo emotions flooding out of you, rendering you helpless. The applause continues, shrouding your screams. It’s just so much, everything hitting you at once: the pain of seeing him suffer, the pain of missing him, the pain of feeling him again.

More than anything, you feel your love for him. It aches and grows, taking over your body as you cry out. The tidal wave is overwhelming, suppressed feelings making themselves known again. It’s too much, it’s all too much and yet not enough as your surroundings melt away and you hear nothing. Nothing but the blood pounding in your ears and a mantra repeated over and over again.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

--

“How much I love you, you my sun,

I cannot tell you that with words.

I can only lament to you my longing

and my love, my bliss!”

#baekhyun imagine #baekhyun angst #baekhyun scenario #exo imagine #exo angst #exo scenario #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo #lowkey this sucks but listening to the piece while you read makes it better

[fairycosmos]

My fuckinggg crush (who looked like he was into me also but without being greasy and disgusting which is rare for men) is giving this other girl attention and has been online forever and is ignoring my texts and I'm so upset and this is so stupid and something a 12 year old would say but I have no friends and wanted to tell someone and I chose u bc ily and your blog and u take your time to give ppl good and well thought replies and ur amazing.

hey man it’s not stupid!! at all!!! it’s natural to crave affection from the person you want and it’s natural to feel jealous to some extent. what matters more is how you cope with those emotions, you know? don’t let them drown you, don’t let them force you into doing/saying something you’ll regret. crucifying yourself for this wont solve anything. take a breath, let it all wash over you. you’re alright. i know it’s super difficult, and it’s a lot easier said than done, but try not to let his actions impact how you see yourself. it’s not your fault he’s not replying to you, and it doesn’t mean you’re not worthy. if he doesn’t like you for who you are then he doesn’t deserve your time, you know? if he can’t appreciate you for who you are then he’s simply not ready for someone like you, and that’s entirely his loss. the worst thing you can do is let your low self esteem use this situation to turn your mindset into one of paranoia and self hatred. like, your existence doesn’t depend on him and what he thinks of you. in addition to that, just cause he’s talking to another girl doesn’t mean he doesn’t think you’re a cool, interesting person (assuming you guys aren’t like, exclusive of course.) it’s possible for him to see both of you in a super positive light. look, obviously cause you have feelings for him, you’re going to care about his opinion a lot, but always keep in mind that the world doesn’t begin and end with him. even if your infatuation is making it seem like it does. this sort of thing is always upsetting and painful, cause you can know all of this logically and still feel sad about it, but that’s okay. process whatever you need to process. every emotion is temporary, though your mind will do its best to convince you that it’s permanent. truly all you can do is message him, ask him what his deal is and then leave it. after that, the ball is in his court. and you don’t deserve to have to grovel for attention or love or validation, you can find all of that within yourself and through other sources. i 1000% get that all of this sounds like bullshit, especially cause you care about him so much, but i hope you can allow some of it to sink in. at the end of the day you can’t control him or how he feels, but you can control how you allow yourself to be treated, and how you deal with the pain/anger/sadness of the situation. 

i really hope you’re able to have a productive conversation with him to see if you can figure out where you stand. catching feelings for someone is always going to be annoying and complicated and weird, but as long as you have your own back you’re going to be just fine. i’m like hyper aware of the fact that none of this is helpful to you in the current moment but maybe you can come back to this in like a month or smth to look at your progress. you’re literally an ABSOLUTE sweetheart by the way like thank you so much!! i’m so fkn glad you enjoy my blog and i luv you to the moon and back. i’m lending you all of the strength you need to get through this. whatever the outcome is, you have the tools to handle it, so you will. you’re a lot more capable than you’ll ever fully realize, okay? you’ve got this. talk to him when you can, be kind to yourself and let the rest figure itself out. 💖💖

#anon

[saintlaurnet]

Sinners Crawl ♡ Bill Skarsgård

an unnamed bill skarsgård random (and extremely long) imagine/fanfic.

warnings: murder (is this a spoiler? lol). swearing. 

word count: 2.245 

notes: this is awful and extremely random ugh. I just wanted to write something related to the amazingly sweet Bill Skarsgård tbh. it’s an AU and I honestly don’t know if it’s going to be a Bill x reader thing or if I should explore the O.C lane. it might be a part one for a little something so… feedback is requested and appreciated! (also, let me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes bc I didn’t review it as expected and also because it’s late af lmao). <3

He killed her.

It’s almost impossible for me to catch my breath, to get any clue of where I might be. It has been two hours since we got the first call, and I haven’t stopped walking ever since. For the first time in two decades, I’m utterly lost. 

This can’t be right. It’s not real. Just like any other thing in my stupid, useless life, it doesn’t make any sense. I might be suffering from a badass hallucination. It has happened before, so it wouldn’t be a complete shock if it’s happening right now. 

We are best friends. Family, almost. We wouldn’t hurt each other like that, it’s ridiculous. To suppose that one of us caused the other’s death is so incredibly immature that I shouldn’t even be considering this as a hypothesis.

But I am. And this is one of the main reasons why I feel like my brain is about to explode.

Snow falls unceasingly against my warm skin, from a sky I don’t remember ever seeing before. Unlike my very own mind, the streets are completely empty. People must be at home, safe and happy. Hiding themselves from the maniac who killed the professor’s daughter. Undoubtedly terrified of a boy they used to love.

My cell phone buzzes against the thick fabric lining the inside of my brand new coat. I let out a long, long breath in a clear display of unhappiness. People keep trying to contact me even after I’ve made it pretty clear that I needed some time alone with my own thoughts. Unfortunately, they know me well enough to know how dangerous this can be.

Legs are aching and lungs are starting to burn like hell, but even so, the sense of self-care is not enough to force my body into inertia. I know I should be at home, comforting what’s left of my family, but I simply don’t feel the urge to spend another single second in a home torn apart by disappointment and loss. 

I laugh at the cold and sharp wind. I trusted him. We all trusted him. I said this before and I’m gonna say it again: he was the basic synonym of family for both of us, so how on earth he dared to betray us like that?

My whole body shakes as I brace myself against a telephone booth. It’s old, dusty and apparently useless. If I look close enough I might even see the cobwebs surrounding the worn out machinery. Soon enough, the mayor will get this thing removed from the sidewalk, since no one is going to have the need to use it anymore. It will be dumped and forgotten. Just like her.

I force myself to close my eyes tightly, consequently preventing hot tears to stream through my cheeks. Although I try to think about something else, about anything other than the way my own sister was murdered, my imagination is stronger than my will to keep my sanity. 

The images are so vivid that I have to warn myself over and over again that it’s  not actually real. But I can almost feel the way his large hands are wrapped around her throat; all the air leaving her lungs as fast as possible, with no guarantee of ever returning; her probably dazed and confused from the sudden lack of oxygen. I can easily see her fighting to get his hands off her, but failing miserably. Crying, begging, gasping for air as life slowly leaves her eyes.

I’m pretty sure she did all of this. The police said there was a fight, and I know my sister well enough to know that she wouldn’t give up on her own life that easy. Unlike me, she was a tough girl. She knew how to stand up for herself.

Apparently, she wasn’t tough enough to prevent herself from him.

But… how could she? None of us ever suspected that the gentle, kind-hearted Swedish boy who lived across the street would do us any harm. I used to say that the most dangerous thing about him was the way he narrowed his green eyes at me or the way he ran his hand through his hair as he watched us both do something mercilessly questionable. 

Damn. How stupid can I be?

“You’re not stupid, okay?” my sister used to warn me every time I came up with some self-destructive comment. “You’re just… young.”

And I want to tell her that it’s perfectly possible to be young and stupid at the same time. 

It hits me then. She’ll never hear it. She’ll never be aware of my ridiculous excuse. All because she is dead. All because of him.

My fist hits the cold metal behind me in a desperate attempt to get rid of the anger. I don’t want to think about her, about her current situation. But I know I can’t keep ignoring reality like that, because even if it sucks, it’s still my reality. And I have to deal with it either way.

My heart bleeds and I feel every bit of my consciousness crash like an old, forgotten vessel. I raise my eyes to the overcast sky, desperately trying to drown my sorrows in its darkness. I can’t go on pretending that what he did wasn’t able to tear every corner of my soul and confuse my already perplexed mind. 

Again, the frantic buzz of my cell phone is there. This time, I decide not to ignore it. I’m ready to give a shy, unprepared answer when a trembling and still strangely fearless voice cuts through the air.

“Where the fuck are you?”

I almost laugh. 

“Hello to you too, Landon”

Landon. For the first time in hours, my thoughts turn directly to my not-so-tall, hairy friend. The knot in my throat becomes obviously painful while I think of the possibility of having him here, by my side. I feel guilty for leaving him completely alone in front of my house, crying like a lost puppy in need of care.

Great. One more item to add to my list of regrets.

“Where are you?“ he repeats each word in a slow and almost absurd way, as if he doubted my ability to understand clear and basic phrases. 

“I have absolutely no idea,” I laugh at my own irresponsibility. 

Landon coughs, “So… you’re lost?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

The lack of guilt in my voice can make me feel even worse.

“Fine, just… just give me a hint of where you might be and I’ll see if I can get to you,“ he sounds so determined that I can hardly tell him that maybe, just maybe, I can manage to be alone.

I can’t. It’s a pretty obvious little white lie, and we both know it. I just don’t think I have what it takes to look at him right in the eye after all that has happened. I won’t be humble enough to admit that he was right about us the whole time, that I’m sure. 

Asking for forgiveness is something I’ve never been able to do, at least not in the right and sociable acceptable way. I’m not going to contradict my own nature right now.

“No, wait, wait!” I try not to sound so desperate as I search for the right words in my mind, finally being able to walk again as I squeeze the cool screen of the cell phone against my skin. “Are you still in my house?“ 

For what feels like the first time in forever, I let myself pay attention to the daily noises that follow on the other side of the line: cutlery and crockery clashing in a almost nostalgic harmony; muffled and slightly hoarse voices doing their best to hide the sadness within. 

"I am, thanks to you,” he tries to sound cool but end up failing miserably. 

I know how Landon feels. I’m pretty sure he’s just as broken as I am at the moment. We share a similar amount of pain over what happened. Landon adored my sister just as much as he adored… Bill.

His name. Oh, heavens, his name. The simple thought of him — of all the significant letters forming his designation — causes hatred to flow through my bloodstream. I remember all the times this word escaped my lips as a joyful prayer.

Bill, Bill, Bill. 

Back then, I wanted nothing but be able to adore him, love him. Right now, I want nothing but be able to forget.

Landon’s forced cough is able to get me to return to the present time. “Are you still with me?”

I roll my eyes as I walk away from an almost frozen puddle. He coughs a lot, and I hate it. But I’m not going to tell him that, simple because I’m not in the mood for an unnecessary, heavy discussion about his nature.

“Yes, and I need you to do me a little favor.”

“How little?” he asks, surprising me with his sudden determination. Normally, he avoids helping me out.

But today is anything but a normal day, so it should be suspected that none of us would follow our basic behavior.

“New York little.”

Landon gasps and I can almost feel him bending over my father’s old and dusty armchair. I can also hear my mother crying, too. 

“But it’s a huge city!”

“Yeah, there’s something we call "joke”. Ever heard of it?“ 

My provocation is forgotten as a result of the fact that we both have more important and concrete things to worry about than bad and unnecessary jokes.

"God, you’re so hilarious!” sarcasm flows through his words and I manage to let out a little laugh. “What do you need?”

I hear the cogwheels of my brain go into work mode while the worn soles of my boots make an almost comforting noise against the damp surface of the sidewalk. I see the strongly familiar signs in a lunatic attempt to form a compelling argument. This is my hometown, the place from which I can never escape. In theory, this is my safe haven, and yet I still feel like a complete stranger every second I step under the effect of this atmosphere.

“I need you to meet me in front of the old Goyle’s Cave”, I basically scream when I realize that I was finally able to connect the rest of my brain to the mechanism that processes reality as a whole.

“Wh.. Why?!”, Landon questions my decision, and I realize that he struggles not to complain about his probable hearing loss. "This place has been closed since we went to college.“

My stomach wraps up. I hate every memory I grow from that now detestable place. It was there where the problem began to unfold, or so I think. Which implies that it’s the perfect place to inform Landon about the plan that I’ve been developing in my mind since I acknowledged the death of my sister. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just need you to be there.”

He takes a deep breath for the hundredth time since we started talking.

“But…” he begins.

I quickly cut him off.

“Be there for me, Landon.”

“Weren’t you completely lost, like, five minutes ago?”, he provokes and I get ready to cross the empty street.

“Just come!”, I practically beg, tightening the purple scarf around my neck even more. 

“And what am I supposed to say to your parents?”, Landon asks and, somehow, I can tell that he’s truly concerned about my parents well-being,

Unlike me, apparently. 

“Just say you’re coming for me, okay? They’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

“Fine, I’m coming! But just because you’re asking me so nicely…”, he gives in and I try my best not to squeal at his statement. 

“I’ve always knew I could count on you.”

“Whatever, my lady. Anything for you,” Landon mocks.

“Stop being such a baby and hurry up,” I demand. “We don’t have enough time.”

He stops breathing, feeling as confused as someone can possibly be.

“Enough time for what? What the fuck are you up to?”

I take a deep breath, trying really hard to organize my own thoughts once again. I knew this was going to be complicated, but I honestly didn’t believe it would take me that long to absorb this new idea. My old-self would never consider doing this to anyone, especially when it comes to Bill.

 But the old me is dead and gone. It has been dead alongside with who my sister used to be.

Or so I think.

“He destroyed us,” my tone is almost disturbing. “You know that, don’t you? Bill destroyed us.”

“Yes, yes he did,” the pain in Landon’s voice is almost unbearable, but I force myself to keep going either way. 

“The police couldn’t catch him, so we’re going to.” I stare at the dark sky once again as I speak, feeling the snowflakes crowding gracefully in my hair. “Just as my sister used to say: an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. There’s no turning back now.”

I can feel Landon’s protection walls tumbling down like it was stone.

“What the fuck do you mean?”, he requires an explanation, irritation blending with fear to each syllable.

His swearing only makes me feel more motivated. 

“You heard me. I’m going to destroy Bill Skarsgård, and you’re helping me.”

#i hope this doesn't flop #lol #bill skarsgård imagines #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård x oc #imagines #fanfiction #bill skarsgård #about elena #not dobrev related #writing