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ownedbytaylorswift-13 · 2 years

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It’s a Cruel Summer | Matt Murdock x Fem!reader (2/5)

Bad Boy

A/N: I’m so incredibely sorry for not being faster while posting I swear I always say i’m going to but i totally forget 😭😭😭, but anywaysssss, last chapter we learend a little bit about miss y/n stark and this chapter were are saying her day to day life right, like shes a fucking billioner, avenger, supermodel, filanthrophist and miss girls bussy, shes gotta wake up and train and look gorgeouse and meet the love of her life all while saving the world so here we gooooo. thx for reading *kisseshughskisseshugskisseshugs* <333.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated🫶🏼🫶🏼

Pls let me know if you would like to take you off the tag list or add you🫰🏼

TW: age gap (r is like 21 and matt’s like 33-34), bad writing, y/n, over powered reader, pick me girl, rich people, fwb, maybe alcohol/drugs, insensitivity, rich savior, my writting, drama, probably more.

“Good morning Ms.Stark, it’s 5:30 am. You are required on the training floor at 6:00 am.”

I grunted, wishing I hadn’t woken up during the night so I actually would have gotten at least one more hour of sleep. Why did we have to train so early anyways?

I went to my bathroom to try and freshen up a little, I put my hair in a shower cap and took a super quick freezing cold shower, brushed my teeth and changed into more suitable clothing.

I went to the kitchen, Scott and Wanda already going into the elevator.

“Wait! I’m coming!” I said quickly, grabbing a protein bar and going into the elevator.

“Morning,” said Scott, yawning, holding the door open for me.

I hummed in response.

“Hey, Wanda, do you know the training plan for today?” I asked, opening the wrapper of my bar, leaning into the elevator wall. She just looked at me with hate and I swear she almost growled, obviously me talking to her when she had just woken up was equivalent to me stabbing her, I get it though.

“You’re late,” Steve said as I walked out of the elevator.

“Only five minutes, grandpa,” I said walking right past him, blending into the crowd, his look was disapproving.

“Uh, Okay, so today we are doing one on one combat, me and Nat will be supervising, remember you are not allowed to shoot, stab, or harm in any lethal way… you are not allowed suits, weapons of any kind, or powers. Fail to follow rules and you will receive a sanction. I have also already picked your partners ‘cuz you are incapable of getting along” Steve said, Nat stepped forward and turned to us positioning herself beside Steve.

“So this is how It’ll go, one, Scott and Sam. Two, Bucky and Peter. Three Ed and Wanda,” “Venom? Really? I should be able to use my powers!” Nat just gave her a death stare, Steve made a notion for us to be quiet and Wanda huffed, “Four, Pietro and y/n. Five Vision, Loki, and Thor take turns.” Natasha listed and sounded as grateful as the rest of us to be here. Only some seemed to agree with their partners, everyone else looked like they just smelled shit.

“Let's start with number…um…four, Go!”Said Steve, me and Pietro looked at each other while walking to the mat, everyone walked towards the benches beside.

“Don’t worry draga, I’ll go easy on you,” Pietro said, trying to flirt, like always, after our encounters some time ago, he kept on insisting, but I know it's just routine.

“You want me to go faster?” He said with a thick accent, he was as hot as he was fast.

“No, no this is perfect Pie-ughh, fuck,” I locked my glossy brown eyes with his blue ones and grabbed his face. His pace was lightning, and he didn’t even have to use his special abilities.

“You like that?” He said, smirking already knowing the answer.

“I don’t need you to” I said, coming back to reality.

“Yeah, because you cheat,” He said, getting ready for combat.

“And you don’t?” I said going in already.

We fought dirty, punched, kicked, kneed, elbowed, scratched. It looked like foreplay for a bad “dark themed” porno. We both somehow ended up with knives, breaking more rules with the second, but it was so exciting we didn’t care. We kept threatening until we were standing up, his knife pressed on my throat making me press against him. But I wasn’t defenseless, he had one of my arms restrained, the other had a knife pressed to his side, just below his last rib.

“Come on guys! I said no knives!” “Wait, I want to see where this goes,” Steve and Nat, forever agreeing to disagree.

“Come on babe, let go,” I was breathless, he didn’t budge, not even a twitch, nothing.

“Seems you won’t go down the good way, time to play dirtier,” I pushed the knife in his side hard till I cut him open, and felt drops of his warm blood on my fingertips. Not stab, just cut. He reacted very fast, slashing my jaw. The small cut gave me an advantage, he thought it had been more serious and I played into it. I dropped to the floor, breathing heavily, only a couple of seconds in which Pietro got scared he had actually hurt me badly. He went to kneel next to me and gave me the perfect moment to win. I turned fast and knocked him over with my leg and straddled him with both knives in my hands one in his throat and the other in his chest.

“Dead,” I said, giving him a little smile, I threw the bloody knives and got up stretching my hand to help him.

“You broke several rules, and as I told you you’ll have consequences, you're on mission report duty for the rest of the summer,” He said, firmly.

“Worth it,” I said walking away, smugly.

“Where are you going? Too shy for round too? Or too scared?” He said, making me jump back a little one second he was on the other side of the room and the other he was right in front of me.

“I’m a busy girl Pietro, I can’t stay here all day making you bleed,” I said, sliding past him reaching for the door.

“Whatever,” He said and went back to his place with a swoosh.

“Okay, next up is number…two…Go!” Steve’s voice echoed in my head along with his thoughts on what other punishments to give in case more rules were broken.

I went up to my floor and drank some water. I went to my room and showered, cleaning dried blood off was hard and I did have a busy day today, I was going to Hell’s Kitchen. I’m America's sweetheart, and as the Upper East Side Princess, I need to expand my philanthropism and help. I usually go to hospitals, food pantries, shelters, local businesses, things like that. Today I was going to an orphanage, to be precise Saint Agnes Orphanage, it was a catholic orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen, one of New York’s shadiest. I had gone there a couple of times, the kids were so sweet and religious, super cute, I really liked all of them.

I got dressed and then changed because Vision said “Statistically, the catholics could find it disrespectful to Christ” so I wore pants. What I ended up wearing was actually very cute. It was black high waisted wide leg leather trousers, a silk baby blue bra with lace details and a cream cover up. I wore it with white and blue flowered heels, a black purse, two chains around my neck, one gold and the other white gold. Two rings, one the signature Vivienne Westwood cross and the other a blue eye ball being held by two hands. In my left wrist there was a pearl bracelet, and in my ears black and gold lock-shaped earrings, my hair was down, dark and curly, all the layers tying the look. My makeup was flawless, my eyes were big and glittery, you could see the shadows in my face, sharp dark edges but soft cheeks flushed and plump, long black eyelashes and of course my signature brown red glossy lips. I sourley rather be dead than plain, and I defined owed my life to Rhianna and Charlotte Tilbury.

Happy was driving me today, we both knew I was completely capable of defending and driving myself but I guess he enjoyed babysitting bodyguarding and driving. I had carts full of things I was taking to the orphanage, I knew these kids have had it hard enough, I just want to give them something they’ll enjoy and that they don’t have to share. I know I’m one of them too, I was in an orphanage, I didn’t have anyone until my dad. It was just pure luck, one scandal less and I would have probably called a place like that my home too.

Me and Happy tried to fit everything into the car, there were a lot of things and the trunk along with the last row and part of the second were completely backed up. There was only room for three people. Happy started the car and I wrote the address on the car’s gps.

“I thought we were going to Hell’s Kitchen,” He looked confused.

“Yeah we are,” I said, now also confused.

“That’s Queen’s kid,” He said looking at the address and now just looking at me like I was stupid.

“Yeah I know, but I thought we could pick Peter up today, I think we could really use the help, and I haven’t seen him in a while s-”

“So I’m driving across town and then back?” He finished my sentence.

“Yeah, let’s go, it's getting late” I said smiling at him, he just rolled his eyes, huffed and drove.

“I’m gonna play some music,” I said, connecting my phone and putting my playlist on shuffle.

“I love this one,” I said, turning it up a little. Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift or perfection, call it what you want.

“Don’t be all grumpy,” I said. “The drive’s fast only…thirty minutes,” I said.

“Make it fifty,” He said and kept driving.

“You know I can drive, right? You didn’t have to come,” I said, crossing my legs and arms.

“Too late for that now, we are too far gone,” He drove all the way to Queens with not a single word. He always acted annoyed but I knew he enjoyed this. It reminded him of when I was a kid and he actually had to drive me around.

“We are here, what now?” He asked me, going to park the car.

“We wait for Peter to come out, I think I’m going to wait outside though, he doesn’t know I’m picking him up,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. I closed the door and pushed my back against the car. I pulled out my phone and looked for Peter’s contact name, but he didn't answer. Soon the bell rang, a lot of mentally illed teens started swarming out, I guess STEM was doing its job. They were all thinking so many different things, I felt so special knowing what Edward Cullen felt like, I could totally be a Cullen, I’m hot enough, and I’m also so mysterious, everyone would be so in love with me and I would also look so pretty glittering in the su-

HONK.

I jumped, Happy brought me back to reality and made me look like a total idiot. He wanted me to look for Peter so we could go, I could hear it in my head. I started walking towards the main entrance with my arms crossed and spotted Peter, he was kind of far and I didn’t want to walk all the way up there. I tried his phone again but he didn’t pick up, he didn’t even check it. I uncrossed my arms and walked with confidence towards him, turning a lot of heads to me, I couldn’t help it, I was magnetizing like the moon, I do kind of blame my Leo moon for that. As I walked, I noticed that Peter looked…embarrassed? Why? It was a strange look on him, he was with his friend Ned who was looking ten times worse than him and this other kid…um… Flash Thompson, I roamed through his head, he was the kid that always gave Peter such a hard time, if he only knew who he really was. Time to play the hot bimbo friend.

“Pete! Hey Peter!” I said walking towards them, channeling Elle Woods and exploding the valley girl in me, I guess growing up in Malibu has its perks.

“Oh my God! Hi!” I said hugging him tight, my back to Flash.

“Y/n? Wha-What are you doing here?” He said a little embarrassed.

“I’m here to pick you up, dummy. We have that thing, remember?” I said pulling away.

“Are you y/n Stark?” Flash asked, still behind me. I turned to him and gave him the most disgusting side eye I could summon out of my being.

“Oh yeah… the thing,” He said, getting the hint.

“Yeah, come on, let's go, we’re running late already,” I said, taking his hand and dragging him with me.

“Peter! Where are you going?! Don’t leave me!” Ned said, reaching out.

“I’m sorry dude, I have a thing,” He said, turning to him and then back to the exit.

“Are you!?” Flash asked, again. I just breathe out a laugh. Peter smiled.

“Thanks for saving me over there, by the way, Flash can be very…” “Don’t worry about it, he’s just a bully but I’m a certified mean girl,” I said, teasing.

“Yeah, whatever,” He said, rolling his eyes a little.

“Why are you here though?” He asked.

“There is a thing, I just didn’t tell you about it, we are going to Saint Agnes,” He looked at me more confused.

“It’s an orphanage,” “I told you, you shouldn’t make jokes about me being an orphan, it’s not cool y/n,” He said, trying to convince me he was annoyed.

“None of that, I’m in the mood to feed my savior complex today and you are going to help, I’m just going to give some things to the kids, brighten up their days a little, I don’t know, I’m the modern Mother Teresa” I said, opening his door. I closed it and got in the car.

“It’s jacked up back here, I barely fit,” He said, trying to not sit on the things.

“Cry about it. Let’s go Happy,” I said, retouching my lips and admiring myself in the mirror. I played with my hair and posed for myself, I’m so pretty it’s annoying, to others not me though.

Me and Peter talked a little, it didn’t take that much to get to the other side of the city, it was actually faster.

“We’re here,” Happy announced, shutting the car off.

“Okay, help me,” I said, getting out.

“Hello, Miss Stark, the kids have been waiting for you, they’re in the temple.” A nun said.

“I know, I’m so sorry, there was a lot of traffic,” I said, giving her an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, they’ve missed you, the kids. Oh, did you need help getting the things out?” She asked nicely.

“Oh no, it’s okay I can manage,” I said going into the temple, happy and Peter behind me.

“Y/n!” A swarm of kids surrounded me, I swore they were going to trip me over.

“Hello sunshines!” I said, matching the excitement. Even though I didn’t love to admit it, these kids had a soft spot in me. I put the things on the floor and picked one of the little kids up, hugged him and put him on my hip. Damian, he was my favorite.

I started setting everything up, organizing and letting them know what everything was. I had brought clothes, food, shoes, supplies, toys, computers, books, hygen products, everything I thought they might need.

“What’s happening?” I heard a man think, Mathew Matt Murdock. He was talking with… father Lanthom, and I guess he realized his confusion.

“She’s the girl that volunteers with the kids, y/n Stark, Ironman’s daughter, she comes around once or twice a month and the kids seem to like her,” Father Lanthom said. Matt hummed in acknowledgement.

“She’s a very nice young lady, you know,” Father Lanthom said as if hinting something. Matt chuckled.

“As you said, she is young, I think 20, and I don’t think the Upper East Side princess is interested,” Matt said. That made me chuckle, which somehow he heard, because he turned his face to me surprised I heard. After all we were too far to listen to the other, second time of the day I felt like the emo vampire.

I spent time with the kids, Peter was so much help. Everyone was wondering how such a small kid could carry such heavy stuff. The day went by rather quickly, and before I knew it it was time to go.

“So we were in Asgard on a bridge made out rainbow! Yeah, Thor was in the palace fighting his sister Hela, when suddenly she made a knife out of magic and Agh! Stabbed Thor in the ey-“

“I’m I think is time to get going Ms. Stark, the kids have to get ready for bed,” A concerned nun said.

The kids cried out for me to keep telling them the story but I reassured them that I would be back as soon as possible and that it was getting late.

“I’ll be back, kids! Don’t worry! Be good!” I said waving at them as they closed the doors.

NEXT CHAPTER >>>

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

Tag List 🏷

@queen-arya22 @originalwitchsworld @lady-justice-thoughts @isa-cabanas @chatoicboy @fancymiraclecoffee @sflame15-blog @mattmurdockmylove @celestialgalaxies @stilesstilinski37 @sgt-morgan @luckyheart-67676 @paradise-forthe-soul @suga-baby-darling @victoriatx2 @aspenisuncool @foxybee07 @lhlwhore @readruslit @mybelovedjules @moonswin @mars-quartz @romanxffs @redheadpixie033 @bugsbeetlesbats @a-court-of-valkyries

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teacup-captor · 1 year

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I have a ko-fi now. Billionares if you see this and you have a billion to spare please follow the link below

[Psst! I intend to do some more roleplaying on this account. Everything under the "#Gargoyle Leo" tag is rp!]

PLEASE SEND ME BEES. I WILL BE SO HAPPY. PUT A BEE IN MY INBOX /NF

Or send me a Sherlock (ANY ADAPTATION) to edit into a catboy!!!!

Or just tell me about your day or make random noises at me <333 infodump if you'd like omg!!! /g

Other blogs I have!!!

@teacup-crafter (creative stuff archive PLS PLS PLS SEND ME ASKS WITH SHERLOCK ART REQUESTS)

@tths-system-antics (system blog (very inactive. Sorry))

@your-fave-is-soup (gimmick blog for souping blorbos. I'm active I just don't get asks. I love souping blorbos)

@bentleysbeetle (Good Omens RP blog. Adoptive child of Aziraphale (and by proxy, Crowley) and best friends with Bentley. Dabbles in crime solving. Also- I do tarot readings there. Long story. You get a silly one and a serious one if you ask.)

@youngpoetthomasthorne (poetry + aesthetic + rp blog)

(Send art suggestions for other Sherlock Holmes media too!!!!)

Some of my posts!

Honky Tonky Jonk - Sherlock & Co. Fansonk

Sherlock & Co. discord server

Tag system:

#Gargoyle Leo - this is my tag for the Good Omens roleplay :) everything under this tag is roleplay!! Everything else is ooc :P as a general I'm only roleplaying when I'm directly interacting with other Good Omens roleplayers. My character is called Leo and uses it/they/he/she/ne pronouns. They're totally not based on anyone what are you even saying /j

#sigmord - stimboards

#trinket box - things I am saving <3 little trinkets :D

#bees for me - bees sent in my inbox or bee posts I have been tagged in

#why can't i just be normal moments - I AM NOT BEING SELF-DEPRICATING. This is my tag for unhinged things I've said (on Discord mostly, but I'm open for other things too)

#good omens season 2 spoilers - self-explanatory

#bbc ghosts 5 - bbc ghosts s5 spoilers

Trigger warnings get tagged as #tw [trigger] and #[trigger] tw just so you're covered

I also have tags for my friends. If I reblogged your post and you don't understand one of my tags it's probably bc I reblogged it from a friend

DNI:

-PROSHIPPERS/SUPPORTERS, THINSPO/PRO ED OR ANYTHING BODY FOCUSED*. I WILL NOT DISCUSS THIS GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY PAGE, YOU ARE PROMOTING SELF-HARM AND I DO NOT WANT THAT ANYWHERE NEAR ME.

(* body focused as in you post only/primarily pictures of bodies especially in a weight focused way)

-ZIONSTS/PRO-GENOCIDE/WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANNA CALL YOURSELF F U C K OFF. THIS PAGE IS PRO PALESTINE. FUCK MY ASS IF YOU'RE NOT PRO PALESTINE

(if you don't know what's going on regarding Israel vs Palestine I'm very happy to give an explanation but I am N O T discussing this. Good people are pro Palestine.)

(If you apply for the rest of my DNI feel free to ask why or discuss calmly with me but if you start getting angry you're fucking blocked)

-Homophobes, transphobes, enbyphobes, racist, yadda yadda if ya hate people fur things they cannot or should not change fuck off right to hell

-Against therians/otherkins

-Ableists (that includes if you believe NPD or other PDs are inherently bad or use terms like "nArC AbUsE". They're people too and they can be nice.)

-Against mspec gays/lesbians, turigirls, lesboys, or other contradicting labels

-Against self-diagnosis

-Endo/t*lpa (*u) systems and their supporters (if you're respectful or syscourse neutral you can stay, just know that I'm under the belief that endo systems are either not systems or they're invalidating their own trauma. If you use labels such as "neurogenic" to say you formed from trauma bc of a mental illness, that is literally trauma and makes you traumagenic)

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mascwhump · 3 years

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Chapter 4: Sharp Edges

Here ya go.

TW: blood, mild gore, stabbing, drugs?, starvation

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

The only way Charlie was able to keep track of time was through the meals he was given, and the lighting in his room.

For breakfast, it was a slice of toast, two slices of bacon, and a glass of orange juice. For lunch, a ham and cheese sandwich, a glass of water, and a multivitamin. For dinner, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and carrot sticks, or a plate of pot roast and mashed potatoes, and a glass of water.

The lights would turn off a few hours after dinner, and be relit just before breakfast. Only one light near the door remained on, providing just enough light to see. One day, he asked Basil the time.

"I'm not allowed to say," he answered.

So, Charlie made up his own time. Breakfast was at 7 AM, Lunch at Noon, Dinner at 5 PM, and the lights shut off at 10 PM. They would turn on again at 6 AM. He had no idea how accurate this was, but keeping time was one thing that allowed him to keep control.

He continued to find new ways to pass the time. Now healed, he was able to do more rigorous exercise. He'd do a circuit of push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, planks, and whatever else he thought of that he could do with his arms chained. He'd also sing softly to himself. The silence was deafening at times. He often sang "i'll wait for you" by Saint Slumber - a song on Crow's playlist.

He wondered about the team, about what they were doing. He hoped that Deke was alright - he wasn't there when Mallory showed him the video of the team being released. He must've gotten out before the soldiers got to him. That's what he hoped, at least.

A lot of time was spent reminiscing. There were a lot of good times with the team, especially when they got to hang out as friends while on leave. Once, Adrian brought home a used poker set after venturing into town. They all got drunk and played until morning. Another time, it had snowed, and Ethan insisted on using a riot shield they had stolen on one of their previous missions to go sledding. They walked through the woods to find a good hill, and took turns. Crow just watched. He claimed he was too big for the "sled", and said he was having fun just watching his friends eat shit at the bottom of the hill.

At dinner one night, Basil brought in a thin mat and a mint green blanket. Charlie wasn't outwardly grateful, but he secretly appreciated it. Sleeping on the cold tile floor was doing a number to his back. The mat couldn't have been more than an inch thick, but anything would be better than the tile. The blanket was equally welcomed - the sweatpants he was given hardly did anything to keep him warm.

He wasn't sure if Basil had brought it on his own accord, or if Mallory instructed him to give it to him. He assumed the latter; Basil surely wouldn't do anything without prior approval. The kid looked like he would cry if Charlie even looked at him wrong.

The next day, Basil came in to bring breakfast; only, he didn't have any food with him.

"I'm sorry, they didn't have a tray for you. I still came to let you use the restroom," Basil said.

Charlie thought it was strange. Did they forget to make his meal, or was something else going on? Maybe they ran out of food. He didn't mind too much, because he wasn't really hungry, anyway. Basil left and Charlie thought about how many others might be there.

Time passed, and Charlie’s stomach was growling. Basil would bring lunch soon, he thought. But soon the lights shut off for the night. There wasn’t anything he could do besides go to sleep.

Morning came. Charlie woke up to the sound of the door opening. He was about to say something snarky to Basil, questioning why he wasn’t fed, when he realized it wasn’t him in the room.

Mallory stood in the middle of the room, holding a duffel bag. Charlie stood up and approached him, getting as close as he could until the chains stopped him about 3 feet away.

“So you’re going to starve me now?” He spat.

“Basil has been assigned to other duties,” Mallory said, setting the bag on the floor.

“And that means I don’t get to eat?”

Mallory stepped closer to Charlie, leaving just inches between them.

“Firstly, food is a privilege. You’re lucky I allow you any food at all. Secondly,” he growled, “you do not speak to me that way.”

“I’ll speak however I want,” Charlie hissed.

Mallory shoved him back, causing him to fall to the ground. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Charlie propped himself up on his hands and watched him retrieve something from the bag. He pulled out a some sort of chain contraption with three loops.

“I’m releasing you from the wall, but the moment you do anything stupid, you lose that privilege. And I’ll make the chains even shorter,” Mallory said.

Charlie only nodded. Mallory seemed to accept that as an acceptable response, and motioned for Charlie to stand up. He walked behind him and Charlie could hear keys jingling.

“Do not move until I put these on,” Mallory ordered.

The first cuff of the chain was free. Charlie felt relief as the metal fell from his wrist. A thought arose from the back of his mind to fight when the other cuff was off. He knew it was stupid, and that the chances of him even getting close to escaping were one in a billion.

He did it anyway.

As soon as the other cuff came off, he whipped around. He managed to land a punch to Mallory’s jaw, and a kick to his shin. But a sharp pain in his abdomen stopped him in his tracks. He began to look down before he was thrown onto his back. Mallory stood over him, holding his hand to his cheek.

“I’m not stupid, Charlie.”

The handle of a knife was sticking out of Charlie’s chest, just below his sternum. In shock, he lied there, unmoving. Every breath made the pain worse. He watched as Mallory circled around him. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Mallory then leaned down and gripped the handle of the knife, looking directly into Charlie’s eyes as he pulled it out. Charlie screamed, his hands flying to the wound and putting pressure on it. He rolled over in pain.

“How long should I let you suffer before I give you your little miracle drug?”

Charlie ignored him. He was too focused on not dying. There was no way the knife hadn’t gone through his stomach or liver. Blood poured out onto his hands and the floor. He whimpered as he applied more pressure. It felt like hours had passed before he felt the needle poke his arm.

Soon, the pain flipped into ecstasy. He rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling while the serum worked. Mallory stared in amazement as the wound seemed to magically heal, leaving no scar. It was a few more minutes until the high came down. Charlie was left dazed on the floor, covered in blood.

“Go take a bath,” Mallory said as he turned to leave, “and clean this up. If there’s one spot of blood on the floor when I come back...”

He left the room after picking up the duffel bag and Charlie sat up. There was a pain in his abdomen, like a bruise. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was. He got to his feet and walked into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and got in the bathtub, scrubbing away the blood on his body and hands.

After the bath, he used a towel to wipe up the blood from the floor. It took a few rinses of the towel in the sink to get it perfectly clean. He didn’t leave anything behind.

#easton’s unnamed story #whump oc #whump #whumper #this kinda sucks ngl #but I wanted to get it out

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years

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To Hell and Back

Chapter 5

Summary: Hels takes a liking for Ex’s gift. Ex also invites him to another chat in the end and make amends.

Characters: Helsknight, Evil Xisuma

TW: None

———————

Hels was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling blankly. He could go and kill more mobs, torment more hermits in the overworld, or...visit the other alters. He grimaced at the thought. Hels hadn’t seen them since his little dispute with Ex and while he was certainly pride and ego, there was a bit of anxiety that ate away at him.

Being all the bad things about your clone wasn’t just bloodbaths and decapitation. Pride and ego could take a turn for the worst and be subdued by insecurity.

Did they hate him? Well, he wouldn’t be too awfully surprised because they hate everyone, especially each other. But there was a real kind of hate that was more than just a hateful friendship, as weird as it sounded. He couldn’t really put his finger on it.

Hels sat up, surveying the luxurious room. He had everything, really. He had money, power, magical abilities, and people bowed to his feet. He glanced at the window. The dull red fog outside wasn’t much to light up the room that was already minimally lit by chunks of glow stone growing in the corners of his room.

His eyes soon landed on a deep blue near his desk. On the floor laid the bouquet of flowers, almost entirely wilted. He cocked his head to the side.

Still there.

He walked to the flowers and picked them up. He wasn’t unfamiliar with flowers. He hid in a lilac bush while spying on Wels. He recalled that they smelled quite pleasant and a bee landed on his cheek, probably thinking his red eyes resembled flowers of some kind.

He turned the flowers over in his hand as if he expected some kind of surprise. Hels hardly noticed his cheeks flushing slightly during his little examination.

Then, he sat the flowers on a desk a few feet away. Something told him not to throw them away. He could burn them, he thought. He could tear them to shreds or even eat them. But he turned to the bathroom and mindlessly walked into it to grab the bowl of water.

It was no fancy vase, and plants usually died in Hels. Even warped fungi and nether wart. But he sat the flowers in the bowl with their petals hung over the edge. A few petals already fell onto the wooden surface but with a small bit of magic, he pulled them together and a bit livelier than they were before, though not completely.

Then it hit him. Why was he caring for these flowers? They were just flowers. There’s billions of flowers in the overworld he could bring to his room.

And….that didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Bringing plants to Hels.

He shook his head. This was ridiculous, he didn’t need some stupid plants. Yet, he looked at the flowers on his desk. They seemed to hold some kind of sentimental value but he couldn’t understand why. He felt as if they brought him the smallest bit of joy to look at them.

Nonetheless, he decided against the idea of gardening.

He sat back on his bed with a sigh. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands, and kept staring at the flowers. That was until a small red envelope appeared out of thin air on his desk. He lifted his head and raised a brow.

“That’s peculiar,” he said aloud. He made his way to the desk and picked up the envelope as if it was a bomb. The golden calligraphy on the back was impeccable and a wax seal was placed on the front. He opened it.

Hey Hels!

I’m mostly saying this because Xisuma said I should so I wanted to say sorry for angering you a few days ago. Guess it wasn’t really my place to say what I said.

Anyways, I wanted to meet up again this weekend. Talk things over, bro hug, whatever you think is right. I just don’t want you mad at me. Xisuma said being mad at each other is normal in a friendship but I think I hit on one hell of a touchy topic.

Alright this is getting long and sappy. Meet me this weekend in The End at the same edge we were before.

Hopefully you come,

Evil Xisuma

P.S. There should be a flower with this in a couple minutes. You didn’t seem to like them but I couldn’t think of anything else.

Hels read over the letter and on cue, a tulip appeared and landed next to the discarded envelope. He picked it up and spun it in his hands, a small grin appearing on his face. He sat it with the other flowers in the bowl and admired what could become his own little dome of flowers in the bowl.

Though, he was a bit ahead of himself. He was becoming soft, especially for Ex’s actions. He was caring for flowers, appreciating letters, and, as much as he hated to think about it, there was a minor thought in the back of his mind that seemed to want to see Ex again.

He put the letter back on the desk and exhaled through his nose. This was taking up his time. He needed to clear his head, kill a few mobs, execute some villagers.

And probably make plans to visit The End this weekend.

#my fic #helsknight #evil xisuma #helsknight x evil xisuma #hels x ex #hermitcraft #long post

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ofmargos · 4 years

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chicago’s very own margo rosas has been spotted on madison avenue driving a mercedes-AMG G65 , welcome ! your resemblance to camila mendes is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-third birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re distrusting , but being passionate might help you . i think being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be lipstick stained kisses on mirrors , doing vocal warm-ups five minutes before top of show , popping bottles of bubbly to celebrate buying a new pair of shoes . ( my biological dad paid off my mom to keep my relation to him a secret ) & ( cis-female + she / her ) + ( lia , 20 , she / her , cst )

whAT is up my dudes ! i’m lia & i lowkey missed wealthy & writing for my bbygirl margo so i’m rlly excited to be here !!!! if you know her from before i’m sorry lmao i’ve tweaked her background a bit but everything else is p much the same ig ?? she’s fun , she’s a dumbitch , & she’s here to make things harder than they need to be probs . but if you wanna know more , i wrote a novel below so plz enjoy that . if you wanna plot then LIKE THIS & i’ll slide in your im’s.or if you prefer discord hmu @ 𝐛𝐛𝐧𝐨$𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥#1904. i look forward to writing with y’all ! <3

S T A T S ↴

-- * FULL NAME : margaret lucia rosas -- NICKNAME(S) : margo ( preferred name , started introducing herself to people as “margo” back in like the 7th or 8th grade ??? who’s margaret ? we don’t know her ) , mar , mars -- * AGE : twenty-three -- * D.O.B : october 31 -- * ZODIAC : scorpio -- * GENDER : cis-female --* ORIENTATION : heterosexual heteroromantic -- * HEIGHT : 5′2″ -- * NATIONALITY : american -- * BIRTHPLACE : chicago , illinois -- * OCCUPATION : broadway performer -- * TRAITS : passionate , creative , dramatic , distrusting , outgoing , ambitious , fun-loving , loyal , daring , sarcastic , stubborn , overconfident , impulsive , hard-working , petty , secretive lowkey

B I O G R A P H Y ↴

( TW : BRIEF MENTIONS OF ABORTION, ALCOHOLISM, AND DRUG USE )

first things first , i’m just going to say it-- margo was an accident . and her story begins with her mother , stassia , who was born and raised on the wrong side of the tracks in chicago , illinois . although she was born into poverty , she had big aspirations for herself and wanted a better lifestyle . her ambition and work ethic were unmatched , and that’s how she managed to get into columbia university ( thank you scholariship $$ ). stassia was in the middle of struggling through her college years when she met her future baby daddy . he was older , going through grad school , and the sole heir to a billion-dollar company . the sparks between them flew instantly despite their differences and they messed around for the better part of a year before the unexpected happened . stassia found herself taking a pregnancy test in the bathroom in between finals ( #justcollegethings , amirite ) and swore she was going to pass out when she noticed the double lines . and let’s just say that her baby daddy did NOT take the news well . a lot of horrible things were said that day . too many hurt feelings for the relationship ( that apparently was never that serious to homeboy ) to carry on . ( TRIGGER WARNING !!! ) so he cut all ties with stassia-- but not before giving her a crazy proposition : get an abortion and never talk to him again OR keep the baby but tell absolutely no one it’s his and never talk to him again . they both seemed like shitty options to stassia , who was actually tragically in love w him , but when he even offered to PAY HER a hefty sum ( i’m talking millions of dollars ) to keep the secret .. well-- it seemed like a blessing in disguise . she’d finally have the funds to live the life she always wanted . even if there was now a baby she didn’t plan for in the mix . so she took the hush money , had the baby in secret , and ran off to completely reinvented herself . ( TRIGGER WARNING END )

although margo’s mother was born into poverty , margo certainly was not . by the time she was born , margo’s mom was ramping up to graduate college and join the high society in the heart of chicago . she got a good job , a lavish place to live , and never told margo about her past . margo grew up completely disconnected from her mother’s side of the family and had no idea of the lies she was being fed over the years . early on in margo’s childhood , her mother met a man through work who she would later go on to marry . that man is the only dad that margo has ever known . he and his daughter were a welcomed addition to their little family , making margo’s home life feel complete in some way . she was provided a good life with the dual income adding to the millions her mother kept . the life her mother always wished she had growing up . in a way , everything she did was for margo . she never wanted her babygirl to struggle like she had to .

as she got older , margo went to all the best schools but only made average grades . she was never too concerned with academics and instead focused on her poppin’ social life and extracurriculars . during her middle school days , she developed an affinity for the performing arts . when everyone had to pick an elective , margo found herself in the theatre class and absolutely loving it . and she was good too . she had excellent stage presence and took every role she got in school productions in stride -- literally the best tree number 3 you’ve ever seen in your life . as she moved on to high school , she rose in the ranks of the theatre department until she was pretty much landing every single lead by the time she was an upperclassmen . acting was her passion , and she figured why not turn being dramatic and talking a lot ( her two most notable personality traits ) into a career . to really hone the craft , she trained herself to be a triple threat : actor , singer , and dancer ( sutton foster , eat your heart out ) . honestly truly had rachel berry in early seasons of glee vibes-- she knew she was the best around and wouldn’t stand to let anyone take the spotlight from her . her peers hated to love her talents because she acted like such a bitch to them offstage / out of character . not that margo really cared for what others thought of her anyway . self absorbed as ever , she told herself she didn’t need friends and generally pushed away any one that dared try to get close to her-- save for her sister . though somehow , someway she managed to get sucked into a small group of friends that would change her for the better ( s/o to ky and gio , sorry they had to put up w bitchy hs margo , rip )

after graduating somewhere in the middle of her class , margo followed in her mother’s footsteps and went to columbia university . she was really only able to get in because she was a legacy and her parents made a considerable donation to the school , but we don’t talk about it . and to say that margo’s college years were transformative feels like an understatement . on one hand , they were some of the best years of her life : she got a true taste of independence , met some of her best friends ( s/o oliver and claudia ), and felt fulfilled to be in the city she had romanticized for so long-- new york baby ! but it was also a very low point for her . back in her high school years , she felt like a very big fish in a teeny tiny pond . she was hot shit , the top dog in her department , and all her hard work and effort to remain leading lady had paid off . however , at columbia she was just one in hundreds of talented people . some with more or less talent , or more or less connections , but they deserved a shot at fame just as much as she did . margo felt like she was fighting for her chance in the spotlight every single day and it was both parts exhausting and humbling for her . she had a amy march mentality “i want to be great, or nothing” and considered throwing in the towel . temporarily thrown off by the pressure to be successful , she took a small tumble from grace . ( TRIGGER WARNING !!! ) turning towards alcohol was her coping mechanism of choice . losing herself in the party scene and surrounding herself with other people that prioritized getting drunk or high over going to class and getting good grades had an obvious effect on her academic performance . ( END TRIGGER WARNING ) she almost lost her place in the BFA Theatre Program during her junior year due being on academic probation . it took a little bit of intervention on her close friends and family part to get margo clean and pull herself together . but by her senior year , she got back on track to graduate on time and participated in various shows at local theaters to build her resume . after almost losing everything she had ever worked for , a fire was lit under margo that had her determined to push herself hard than ever before and make a name for herself in the theatre world .

after she graduated from columbia she moved to new york permanently so that she could fully submerge herself in her work . not long after graduating , she was lucky enough to book several gigs including her big breakout role as lydia in beetlejuice the musical ! it really skyrocketed her into broadway stardom which is cool . a life long dream that once seemed unobtainable was suddenly a reality and she couldn’t have been more elated . with her sudden ( and well deserved ) success , she got a lot of media attention . soon she was getting verified on twitter , instagram , gaining a whole bunch of followers , and getting asked to be on talkshows and stuff to promote the show . honestly , truly a dream ! but her new-found fame gained the attention of another group of people .. her mom’s long lost family . one of her aunt’s ( that she previously didn’t know existed ) reached out to her through social media . and at first , margo honestly couldn’t believe that she had family that her mom never told her about . but after some thought it sort of made sense . in hindsight , her mom had always been evasive whenever margo asked about the other’s childhood or her side of the family .

when margo told her mom about her aunt reaching out and how she wanted to meet her , her mom shut it down quick . stassia told her there were a lot of reasons that she didn’t talk to that side of the family and that was that-- PERIODT . but margo was #rebellious and went to meet with her aunt anyway . and that’s how she found out about her brazilian roots and her big ol’ loving and supportive extended family . that whole experience made margo reconsider what other things her mom was keeping from her . and boy oh boy was that a rabbit hole she shouldn’t have gone down . when margo started to demand her mother tell her the truth , it caused their relationship to grow tense . stassia eventually cracked and told her about her bio-dad and all the things she went through for margo . with the truth finally being exposed to her , margo started seeing things in a new light . like her whole life is kinda a lie and why didn’t her father want her ? where was he ? does he know who she is ? why did he never try to contact her ? has she ever walked past him in the streets and never knew ? it was all too much for her to think about so she just kinda ... shut it all out . she acted like nothing was different , even if her “ what if ” thoughts keep her up most nights .

if you just ignore the abandonment issues , insecurities , and her inability to handle emotions and focus solely on her success in material terms : margo’s doing really well ! she’s been living in new york full time for two (2) years now . she’s one of broadway’s most popular rising stars . having completed her run as the original lydia deetz on broadway , she’s moved on to take on the mantel of janis in mean girls on broadway . she’s learning , growing , and thriving . just trying to have a good time all the time with her friends and live the dream , baby !

P E R S O N A L I T Y & F U N F A C T S ↴

margo is super fun-loving and down to clown

will try anything once and it’s gotten her in trouble more times than she can count

also cannot stand to be bored , so she’s always looking for the next big adventure

although she can be really ridiculous sometimes , she’s very serious when it comes to her work . she’s super hard-working and doesn’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of achieving her dreams : even herself

margo’s a very sociable girl and will talk to anyone and everyone . she’s the type that will hold a conversation for 2hrs with a stranger at a party and then when you ask her “who was that” she’s like “i don’t remember their name but i do know their entire life story so that’s cool”

has a way of making people feel like they know her really well when really she’s only letting them see 1/8th of her

keeps her personal life private normally unless you’re super good friends w her

i wouldn’t recommend pissing her off , bc she is petty as a mf and will lit rally never forget how one’s wronged her . this causes her to start fights sometimes . she’ll just bring up old shit out of no where and , since she’s nosy af , she makes everything her business and confronts people on their bs

she’s a whole liar bc she claims she’s a “retired party girl” but really party girl margo has never stopped , will never stop , can never be stopped

studied theatre in college but minored in mass communications just in case she needed a backup job

is v bad at being an adult !!!! like ... can’t cook , often forgets about her responsibilities until the last minute or needs to be reminded like 20 times , stills calls her parents to be like “how do u use a washing machine plz help” , y’know the drill . yet somehow she manages to act as a mom friend to the people that are closest to her ??? v much a “do as i say not as i do” type of hypocrite lol

she has a tiktok and posts dumb shit on there all the time w her friends and like vlogs her backstage experiences in the theater and does the stupid dances and all that stuff hehe

is learning portuguese after meeting the brazilian side of her family

self-proclaimed dancing queen and it’s not because she learned ballet , jazz , and tap whole dabbling in other styles but because when she’s drunk you will in fact catch her dancing on tables !!!!!

i cannot stress enough how bad she is at dealing with her own feelings . like ... instead of dealing with them head on she just ... shuts down . runs away . will ghost on someone she really likes just bc she’d rather leave first than get left and i hate her for it

have i mentioned how big her ego is ???? pHEW . she rides a v fine line between self confident and OVER confident . but tbh it’s just a cover up for how much she rlly hates herself , there i said it

loyalty is EVERYTHING to margo . if you got her back , she’s got your back . but if you screw her over or mess with anyone she loves then she’ll likely try to make your life a living hell IM SORRY

undiagnosed insomniac . nights she spends alone in her own bed are the hardest for her because it’s when all the bad scary thoughts creep up on her and no matter how much she wants to shut them out and just close her eyes and fall to sleep , she can’t . so she’ll often roam the city looking for a distraction or hit up her friends and bother them for some spare company

she’s doesn’t like to be alone ( not like in a romantic relationship sense -- she actually likes being single bc she’s afraid of letting ppl get close enough to hurt her ). hence why she’s always had a roommate even after she moved out of her parent’s house . if she’s not attached to her roommate / best friend kylie’s hip then she’s definitely hitting up her sister or her other friends to see if they want to hang out , even if hanging out is laying around doing nothing or running errands together . margo wants to tag along just for the company

notoriously known for coming up with terrible ideas or following through with other people’s terrible ideas without question bc #YOLO

she’s her pr agents worse nightmare simply bc she has no filter and will not change herself or what she posts just bc she has a big audience ( follow margo on social media and you’re gonna see the good , the bad , and the ugly she does not give a FUCK )

always has good intentions ! her execution / way of showing those intentions is just poor !

she is a rich girl that could not survive not being rich and doesn’t even realize how spoiled she is . spends money like it’s nothing

a mob boss ( this is a joke but also kinda not a joke )

WANTED CONNECTION PAGES HERE

#can y'all tell i hate writing bios ????#this whole thing is a JOKE but i tried lol #plz plot with my baby i will love u forever #THIS IS LONG BUT I'M GLAD IT'S FINISHED OMG #wealthyhq:intro #abortion tw #alcohol tw #drug tw

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skiniminnie · 4 years

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(TW)IF YOUR IN S/H (self harm)RECOVERY DONT READ THIS!!!

I never really understood this, which I get the whole, finding other ways to not slash your skin method but I’m almost six months clean, (5 months, 23 days, 6 hours, 4-7 minutesish) but like I’m trying to remember I’m doing “well” because I haven’t cut in almost six months, but fuck. Life is hard. No wait that’s an understatement, this shit is fucking impossible to overcome, it’s just making me think that maybe this whole recovery thing was pointless to say because yeah I was hurting myself and yeah I was sad but atleast when I was doing it, I knew where my pain was coming from.. it’s like I can be sad, and I can come up with a billion reasons as to why I’m sad but when I cut, that feeling you get( not a “good” or “happy” feeling but when that sharp “pain” starts to be felt it’s like for a moment in time, I kind of control it to say ( which I know sounds confusing and ugh) welcome to my world, but even tho I spiral out of control, I am the one who controls how much I do it.. sorry❤️ here’s to confusing 6 am thoughts❤️ also if you are in recovery and you read this, your doing great, don’t listen to me and my fucked up mind, also sorry if anything I typed is triggering💖 I just wanted to say a few things..

#fat #ugly #tired #painful #self destruction #painting #tw #trigger #self harm #suicde #suicidal #tw sensitive material #selfharm #not pro just using tags #proana #promia

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szparx · 4 years

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regretregretregret

tw / suicide , car crash , blood , drugs , alcohol , religion

weekends don't feel the same anymore

ive been away for far too long

cruisin' and bruisin' down the highway of hell that is my poor miserable life.

gaining new tumors and ulcers and blisters and bumps every goddamned day

flying so high the birds cant even see me and then crashing so hard that even james dean himself would feel sorry for my soul

never sleeping and not eating. no drinks and no shoes and no shirt and no service, no drugs or nuclear weapons allowed inside.

wild life, right? the kind of mundane that you only get from working a 9 to 5 job in a cubicle for a pharmaceutical company

except im (insert age here) and unemployed and i have been my whole life

and i grew up too fast and escaped too slow and now i am painfully and totally trapped under the seatbelt in my flipped car on i-80 and the child locks are on

and im suspended above a holy burning fire set as a trap for the angels as they come to reclaim their vessel for lucifer himself

a devil like me that only the sweetest of grandmothers could love and care for, and take in as if they're their own

knowing full well their time is almost up and soon they'll be leaving some poor preteen to the foster system in heaven, and all of the cherubs and archangels will pass them around like a plate of chopped liver at an overcrowded thanksgiving dinner that your mom said you had to go to and, yes, you have to wear the sweater vest

it's like a party except you're all alone and there's only gas station vodka and all of the music comes in the form of clocks ticking and other cars passing you at 90 miles an hour as you lay dying.

and nobody seems to care, and nobody called the police because you finally got what was coming to you.

what has been coming to you since the 8th grade.

a suicide so potent that only the greatest alchemist could have ever even dreamed about brewing, and somehow you've done it yourself on the cold tile of your mother's bathroom.

and all of the pills once in the cabinet are splayed on the floor around you, soaking up and dissolving in the pool of warm blood that is making a slipping hazard all over the floor that she loved more than you.

and that same gas station vodka bottle that you partied with like it was your last night on earth is laying in the crook of your corpse's elbow. painfully empty and trying desperately to fill with blood as it spills from every vein in your body, terribly black and thick, and not at all how the blood of a human being who was loved would look like.

and when the police zip up your body into a black bag and send it to the lab for testing, the head officer just shakes his head and rubs his temples because even though he never knew you he still knew that this was coming.

and as your tired coroner makes the first incision of your autopsy the tox screen comes back and tells him all the pills that you ate.

hydrocodone, acetaminophen, amoxicillin, ibuprofen, codeine, alprazolam, detroxamphetamine, amphetamine, diazepam, escitalopram, fexofenadine, fluoxetine, lorazepam, ranitidine, and sertraline Vicodin, amoxil, Motrin, Tylenol, Xanax, Adderall, Valium, Lexapro, Allegra, Prozac, ativan, zantac, zoloft

not to mention a fuckton of THC and booze

and he sighs and scratches his ass and wonders if he should even bother finishing, because he already knows that your insides are mangled and black and disgusting.

and he thinks it's a miracle that you even made it this far, and he knows how much poison you used, and the officer knows how much blood there was, and your family knows how much they resent you, and God knows how much guilt you carried until the bloody brutal end.

everyone knows everything about you. except why you did it, because you never left a note and you don't have any friends to tell so you took that dark secret to the grave with you. literally.

and the funeral is sparse and quiet, and one of your high school teachers attends and tells your red-eyed bloodline how much of a pleasure you were in class and says those five words that they are so so tired of hearing:

"I'm sorry for your loss"

and they've heard it a hundred times today, and a thousand times this week, and a billion times in the last 18 years because that is the only thing you consistently said to them.

and it was always 'I'm sorry' and never 'I love you' and now you can never take that back because you're dead and six feet under, and there's not anything left of you on the mortal plane or existence to bring you back as a ghost so you have to live, or rather not, with the fact that your family thinks you hate them.

and there's nothing you can do except relive your memories, because apparently hell is a movie theater that plays all your moments back to you and you sit there and realize that everything is terrible, and you see everything that you could have done differently if you had just cared a little bit more.

and you miss your brothers, and you realize now that you did have friends and you would give anything just to see them one more time.

and you finally, finally, finally find something that you regret more than living:

dying

#poetry #art #writing #stream of consciousness #emo #goth #edgy #angsty

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pinkandbluespottedpandapaws · 5 years

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Tw for vet, venting, cancer mention, tumor/cyst mention, absolute mental breakdown

Oki

Soooo yeah

Recently we took Raven to the vet (third fucking one shes been to so damn far) to see about getting her tumor/cyst thing removed FINALLY

We get to the vet and they're really nice, office is nice and they seem to actually know how to fucking do their god damn job

Then the problems start

The vet comes in and immediately both the person i was there with and i get the sense that she doesn't wanna be there and we exchange that "oh god here we go again" look

She starts talking to us while "examining" Raven- really basic touch and listen to her heart and barely checking her ears

Im trying to discuss my concerns with this lady all while shes just barely listening to what i have to say (could literally see that her mind was on probably 30 billion other things by how she acted and the tone of her voice) while she going on about what she wanted to do to/with Raven (which im sorry but if an owners trying to explain symptoms, ect to you its rude as fuck to constantly interupt and act like you're not even paying afuckingttention)

After this she disappears into the back for like 5 minutes and comes back in with some papers and hands me a paper that made my heart drop all the way out my ass and onto the floor- a total cost sheet for over $1600

They absolutely refused to do a payment plan and i got immediately denied for care credit (again)

Needless to say i had a complete mental breakdown in the vets office and had a half sedated dog trying her best to task for me (they requested that we sedate her before we came in)

So yeah right now i hate my life and feel like a royal mcfucking failure as a handler, dog owner, human being and doggo daddio for the mere fact that i don't have the funds to kamikaze the shit outa that tumor/cyst and that im allowing it to still exist. Alot of what ifs are running through my head and im seriously regretting my decision to live alone right now- because what if something happens to her? What if it spreads? What if theres more we can't see? What if its terminal? What if they can't do anything? What if she can't get up tomorrow? What if my worst fucking fears come true and i lose my babygirl that ive literally raised from a puppy to the wonder dog that she is today? Im so fucking terrified of this happening and i literally have no idea how to cope with the fact that this is actually happening or that this is even real life right now. Hell even typing this out is giving me a massive panic attack.

But regardless im doing whatever i can to try and raise the money to get this shit finally taken off- im doing art commissions, bake sales, jewelry and candles as well. If anyone would like to help out feel free to comment, dm, whatever im so outa spoons right now that I'm probably gonna need to actually go out and fucking buy some

If you'd like to donate to the gofundme that i set up for Raven click the link below

If you'd like to donate but can't donate to the gofundme you can donate to my paypal at the link below

Heres the offending parchment

And heres the offending tumor

And heres my sweet babygirl

Please donate guys we really need it

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thestuckylibrary · 5 years

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Group Ask 129

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

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Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

Anon 1 said:

Hello, I've lost a fic I was reading. In it Bucky is an alien, I think. He is a boxer/fighter, he fights against other alien/enhanced creatures (there's one that's some kind of giant lizard). Steve is still Cap, and he falls for Bucky, and starts going to the gym and becomes Bucky's training partner. What else? Nat or Fury tell Steve about Krees and Skrulls. Bucky lives in the gym, has his few belongings in metal boxes. Sorry, I can't be more specific. Thank you in advance.

samanthahirr, partyhardwoohoo and capiturecs sent in The Boy With The Thorn In His Side by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (complete | 21,980 | E) - AO3 restricked

Anon 2 said:

So I've been looking for a fic that I read probably close to a year ago. It was post TWS and they were living in the tower. During the war they had written letters to each other using their initials for names (Baby for B.B. Sugar for S.G.R) and Sam and Steve are really close so at some point Bucky ends up asking Steve if Sam calls him sugar too. Sorry that it's super vague

mythgrrl said:

i feel like ive sent you a billion asks over the years! good news is i found a fic i know i had sent in asks for a few times (sorry), bad news is i lost another fic. it was steve/buky pwp in wakanda after CACW. it was bottom!steve and they had no lube so they bucky used spit. although it was their first time in the 21st century it was established relationship. i swear the summary was smth like "steve & bucky have a free night in wakanda, they spend it how you think they might"c

disgruntledturtles said:

Hi there! Do you know the fic set in pre-war, where Steve and Bucky are out of money so steve makes a racy film and Bucky ends up seeing it?

slutforasoldier said:

Hey! Super sorry but I'm looking for this fic where Steve and Bucky have a disabled daughter with like metal legs? And they adopt an abused native American boy, I can't remember much else sorry x

dragonflybeach sent in Finding Nina by MPantrochilles (complete | 53,344 | T)

Anon 3 said:

ive been looking for this fic where sam and steve are on the typical "searching for bucky" roadtrip and one night they're in this shitty motel and buck just comes in through the window. i know it's not much to go on, but ive been looking for this fic forever now. please and thank you. i wish you the best of luck.

dragonflybeach sent in If They Haven't Learned Your Name by silentwalrus (complete | 237,623 | M)

Anon 4 said: (abuse)

Hey! I’ve been looking for this fix I read a long time ago. Bucky was raising his niece by himself. Steve was dating Brock rumlow, and rumlow was super abusive. Bucky meets Steve and notices somethings wrong so he tries to help Steve get out of the relationship. There’s also a touch of clintasha

legion-of-queer said:

okay, so maybe you wonderful people can help. Im looking for a babysitter bucky fic. he baby sists steves kids (bucky is a teen) they get into a relationship and nat is buckys sister? ive been looking everywhere for it and just really want to read it again!

Anon 5 said:

alright it's day three in the search for this fic and I'm getting desperate lol. Do y'all know the one where Bucky is kinda mean and cold as a kid until he meets Steve, and they have to touch to be comfortable in their own skin? Steve's mom says it's because they have a special bond but Bucky's mom is like, nah, ur weird. Thanks!

Anon sent in how we are hungry by liketheroad (oneshot | 18,366 | M)

Anon 6 said:

Hello! First, I would like to thank you for all the hard work you do! I'm sorry to bother, but I've looked everywhere for this story, and had no luck finding it. I remember that Bucky forgot about Steve (temporarily), but Steve still kept an eye on him. Then Sam calls him one day to let him know Bucky is missing, only to find him in his apartment (obviously angry). I highly appreciate your help. Also if there is any other story like it. Idk why, but I live for angsty Steve watching over Bucky.

Anon 7 said:

Hi! I searched on your kid!fic rec but didn’t found it so in this fic Steve has a kid and he go to a nursery at the Avengers tower and Bucky take care of him. I just don’t remember if it’s a captain America/modern Bucky Barnes or not 🤷🏽‍♀️

kittenkakt and Anon sent in Love You More by Loeily, Squeaky (oneshot | 36,477 | T)

Anon 8 said:

hi! i lost a fic and need your help :( ive searched on a bunch of your tags and also on ao3. i remember the avengers thought steve was inocent and stuff like that and steve, bucky, natasha and sam (or clint im not sure) go to a mission and bucky and steve have sex and think that no one hears them but when they are on their way back home natasha or sam make a comment about what they heard. i know this is very vague, but the fic was short and i read it a long time ago. thank you so much <3

therandomravenclw and Anon sent in Watch Your Mouth by Enalena (oneshot | 5,311 | E)

indelicateink said:

You guys have opened my eyes to SO many wonderful stories I wouldn't have found otherwise--thank you. I'm hoping you can help me re-find one I loved? Searched the library tags, AO3, my bookmarks; starting to think I'm crazy. Hope this is an easy one: AU in which Bucky is the lead singer of a band (other avengers are bandmates); Steve is a former member of the band (bass guitarist?) who quit under acrimonious circumstances. The story focuses on him temporarily rejoining to help them out on tour?

Anon 9 said:

Hi, I’m looking for a post-WS fic where Bucky and Steve are in the Tower, and Bucky starts learning to cook and making all these amazing meals but he tells Steve they’re all takeout, and somehow the rest of the avengers gang ends up helping him hide his awesome new cooking skills from Steve. I checked the chef tags and can’t find it in there.

capiturecs sent in Dream of Caramel: or, A Recipe for Disaster by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth) (oneshot | 17,037 | T)

Anon 10 said:

i can’t seem to find this kidfic i read once. one scene i specifically remember stevebuckys child ate something they (i think he?) were allergic to. real hurtcomfort

#group asks

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greerkingstcn · 5 years

Text

Only The Good Die Young ↠ Self Para

WHEN: Tuesday, September 17, 2019 WHERE: The side of I-40 WHO: Featuring Bailey Kingston, Easton McIntyre, and Detective Hector Chavez of the Albuquerque Police Department TW: Death, Overdose

“Hello?” The blonde said into the phone on the last ring before her voicemail would have kicked in, having barely heard it over the sound of the music blaring through her truck’s speakers. “Hello?” She said again once the music was turned down and she was able to hear. “Hello, can you hear me?” The gruff, unfamiliar voice filled her ear as she pulled the phone away to glance at it, an area code she didn’t recognize but her phone was telling her was from Albuquerque, New Mexico. “Yes, hi. I’m so sorry, darlin’. Had the music a little too loud. How can I help you?” She asked once she brought the phone back up to her ear, brows furrowed in slight confusion. She didn’t know anyone in New Mexico, but the ranch had guests and investors from all over the country. It could have been one of them, maybe, so she paid close attention as she awaited the man’s answer.

“That’s alright.” The voice replied, a tinge of exhaustion evident in the sigh that followed his words. “Is this, uh...” She could hear some shuffling of papers before he continued, “Greer Kingston?” Nodding her head even though she couldn’t be seen, Greer waited a beat for him to continue before she realized she had to respond verbally. “Yes. Yes, sorry. I’m Greer Kingston.” Turning off of the dirt road from the ranch and onto the highway, the blonde waived at her mother with a smile as she accelerated. “How can I help you?”

“Yes ma’am, my name is Detective Chavez with the Albuquerque Police Department. Are you related to a Bailey Kingston? Date of birth, uh...” More paper shuffling. Greer could hear her heart beating in her ears as she waited, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white, praying the birthday he’d find wasn’t May 18, 1996. No matter the circumstances, the fact that no one in the family had heard from Bailey for three months and a detective from another state was calling her, couldn’t be good. Instantly, her mind went through various scenarios, each worse than the one before it. “May 18, 1996?” She asked, swallowing down the lump that had formed quickly in her throat. More shuffling. “Yes, 5/18/96.” He said finally, the papers stilling. “Yes sir, she’s my baby sister...” Taking in a deep breath, Greer continued on. “Is she alright? Did she get herself into some trouble down there?”

Her question was followed by a pause that seemed to last an hour, Greer’s gaze focused intently on the road ahead of her as she drove. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your sister...” He swallowed, a poignant pause hanging between the two lines for barely a second before he continued, “She’s dead.”

Dead. As soon as the words left the detective’s lips it was as if all the air had been sucked out of Greer’s lungs. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, and she pulled over on the side of the highway. Surely he couldn’t have said what she thought he said. Bailey couldn't be... no, she was only 23. Sure, she had her demons but this was Bailey. The little girl was practically indestructible. “Ma’am?” His voice broke her out of her thoughts as she cleared her throat. “Yes.” She said quietly, her voice filled with an emotion she’d never heard in it before. “I’m still here. Did...” Pausing, Greer sucked in a deep breath but it didn’t give her any relief. “I’m sorry did you say she’s dead? That’s... that’s impossible.”

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry. She uh, she was dropped off at a hospital last night in cardiac arrest. Unfortunately, by the time she’d gotten there she’d already had two doses of Narcan and had fallen unresponsive. They couldn’t revive her... you were the emergency contact in her phone.” She hadn’t realized it, but her foot had slipped off of the break and she’d been slowly coasting down the shoulder as Detective Chavez spoke. “Narcan?” She asked, her mind racing as tears welled up in her eyes. “Did she- did she overdose?” The question left her trembling lips as the truck drifted closer to the irrigation ditch on the right. “Yes ma’am.” Came the deep reply, “Accordin’ to the tox screen it was heroin.”

Every word spoken by the stranger felt like a knife being plunged deep into her heart over and over again. “Okay.” She replied shakily, her heavy breaths filling the silence of the cab. The truck rolled over a rather large log, causing it to lurch, which startled Greer back to her reality. “Shit!” She muttered, foot slamming on the break before she threw the car in park. “Ma’am?” “Yeah, sorry. Sorry... I--” She was blinking back tears furiously as the lump in her throat grew and the weight in her stomach anchored her to the seat. “What do you need from us? What do I have to do?” She found herself asking, her brain going into an autopilot mode she didn’t realize she had. “Well, right now she’s in our city morgue. You’ll need to make arrangements for her, you can contact the Medical Examiner at 505-541-3585 to set all of that up. There’s an investigation that’s been opened up... we’re tryin’ to track down the friend who dropped her off to see if we can find out more about what happened with her. But what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna let you get your bearings about ya and I’ll text you my name and number and the police report number and we can go from there. How’s that sound?”

“That’s just fine, Detective Chavez. I’ll keep an eye out for your text and I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow if that’s alright... I have to go tell my mama and my daddy.” She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible as she spoke, but the weight of the news was quickly crashing down on her and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to have this conversation. The reality of the situation was hitting her hard, like a freight train right into her gut, and it was making it harder and harder for the blonde to focus. “Yes ma’am. Tomorrow will be just fine.”

“Alright, thank you. You have a nice day, now.” She hung up the phone without waiting for a response and set it down in the seat next to her, both hands now gripping the steering wheel tightly as she stared straight ahead. She sat there like that, her breathing becoming more labored as her eyes fixed on the seemingly never ending road ahead of her, for what felt like hours until finally Greer Kingston broke. A loud, unearthly wail left her lips as her shoulders sagged and her head hung, sobs echoing off of her ribs as a mixture of grief, guilt and anger spilled out of her. Every single thing she’d feared since Bailey’s fight with their mother and subsequent radio silence four months ago had come true in the span of a ten minute phone call and she could feel it. Every last horrible inch of it. It was worse than she could ever have imagined, worse than any pain she’d ever felt, and it was vast. A black hole that had opened up and sucked her inside, causing her heart to shatter into a billion pieces and her body to ache in a way she hadn’t ever known to be possible.

And there she sat, on the side of I-40, sobbing until there was nothing left in her. She didn’t know for how long, but when she was finally able to catch her breath and it seemed as if all she’d run out of tears to cry, Greer lifted her head and saw the sun setting out of her passenger’s side window. The amber glow illuminated the inside of the cab and with a shaky breath, Greer wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. She had to get off of the side of the road. She had to go home and tell her family... she had to break the news to them. She had to be strong. But as she put the truck in drive, Easton’s voice echoed in her ears. ‘Auntie Greer, when is my mommy coming to get me?’ And the tears came again, her right foot stomping on the gas as the back tires spun before gaining traction and the truck took off, but instead of heading home Greer was heading towards town.

#self para #( ft. bailey kingston )#death tw #overdose tw #drugs tw #this started off as a starter for ian #but then morphed into this #so now i have to go write that #tldr; greer's little sister died in new mexico #and she just found out #kbye #i suck at writing emotions

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eusuntgratie · 4 years

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Character: the werewolf who looks like he's in his 30s

OKAAAAYYYY I think Derek is supposed to be in his early 20′s in the show? I can hear your judgement from here shhhh.

Full disclosure, while I’ve read two billion words of Sterek fic I’ve have only watched through S2, E8 of teen wolf, so I don’t have the full picture yet. Don’t worry, we’ll get there... tw is my emotional support show at this point.

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: ABS. I’m sorry, what? Also have you seen his face? HHHNNNGHH. Okay but seriously. He has a tragic backstory (like, they go so hard on the tragic backstory it’s a little much) and is all kinds of fucked up and doesn’t know how to communicate or handle his emotions, but we still see glimpses of how he’s a good person and really wants to protect these doofs he’s exasperated by and stuck dealing with. He doesn’t always do a good job, but I really think he means well and is sweet and soft underneath his 58 layers of unaddressed trauma.

Why I don’t: He’s stubborn and frustrating. He gets an idea in his head and its impossible for him to see anything else. I think he really does have good intentions and means well and wants to protect the betas and Stiles but he can’t always see the full picture. Last frustrating example - in 2.02 Derek uses his delicious Alpha eyes & growl to protect Stiles from an escaped Isaac who wants to eat Stiles bc he’s a baby werewolf on the full moon. Gorgeous, perfect, delicious shipper moment. EXCEPT. Derek made Isaac a werewolf in part bc his dad beat the shit out of him all the time. And Derek doesn’t seem to notice that not only does Isaac shift and leave Stiles alone, but he’s also COWERING. And Derek doesn’t address that or comfort him on screen. Most of my issues with him are an issue of bad writing IMO (hello hi we’re talking about a teen drama that aired on MTV gotta keep those expectations in the basement).

Favorite episode (scene if movie) Also in 2.02... the first time we see him smile is when he’s flirting with the deputy so Stiles can break in to get Isaac. But also, every time he instinctively protects Stiles, which is every time they’re together and he’s threatened (in the hospital, when they see the kanima the first time, at the sheriff’s office...). Also the cousin Miguel scene in 1.09 is hilarious :)

Favorite season/movie I gotta finish watching before I can say. Honestly, I’m only invested in maybe half of the characters and a few of the storylines are pretty boring for me, so I doubt I’ll end up with a fave season and am more likely to end up with a collection of favorite scenes and/or episodes.

Favorite line “I’m the alpha” *swoon* But mostly the conversations that Derek has using only one word answers or even better, only his eyebrows.

Favorite outfit BB only wears tight jeans, black/dark tshirts, and his leather jacket. The look WORKS for him. If we’re being honest, jeans and that’s it is probably my favorite 👀

OTP STEREK!

Brotp I feel like I haven’t gotten there in canon yet, but I’m hoping/rooting for him to develop deeper relationships with his betas. They obviously care about him but I don’t think he’s let himself see that yet.

Head Canon he’s scared out of his mind. ALL. THE. TIME. He doesn’t let anybody see it, and we only see a couple of glimpses of his fear when he’s alone. But he’s alone, he’s lost everybody, he thinks everything is his fault. He is drowning in fear and guilt and that’s why he does stupid shit all the time sometimes.

Unpopular opinion i don’t know! I’m sure I’ll be full of them by the time I finish watching :)

A wish for him to forgive himself. more sterek! And more naked Derek shirtless scenes...but I think I’ll probably get that one bc MTV knew their demographic.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen hmmm. I don’t have a good answer for this either. To see him betray Stiles or any of the betas... but with a show like this I feel like that’s not unlikely to happen? we’ll see.

5 words to best describe them scared/lonely/frustrated dad/sarcastic/protective

My nickname for them SOURWOLF <3. Stiles calling him Der-bear and babies calling him Der-der or something like that in fic makes me meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelt

Character Asks

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gryphonablaze · 5 years

Text

OKAY so I had some thoughts

philosophical I guess? Idk I just had a lil bitty creative speculation writing spree I suppose. It was fun. A summary below

THOUGHTS

A Native American tribe (I can’t remember which one I’m sorry) has a story that this world is the third (or fourth I haven’t heard the story in a hot minute) that the creator has made. They burned the first because humans became shitty, flooded the second because humans became shitty, and what happens to this one has yet to be seen. Ish. Idk man we have a pretty good idea of where we’re goin and it ain’t good ANYWAY

Idk if any of the major monotheistic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) have a story of the world burning, but I(‘m pretty sure they share this story) know the story of the great flood and the ark and such n so.

But let’s go back to the beginning. In the Christian version of it, ya gal in the sky took seven days to create the world. But days weren’t technically a thing until the sun was a thing and the earth began turning, thus creating lengths of days (hypothetically). But being a writer, I had a thought.

When I’m writing a story or something, first I get the general gist of it. Idk the particular order that various creation stories lay out, but I know that the idea comes first. And day/night cycles and the solar system and such tends to come later. And so do the specific, like, species of flora and fauna and so forth. So ‘created the sun on the third day even though without the sun there is no day and night,’ if ya think about it like that, seems pretty reasonable to me.

Now to the destruction.

Personally if I don’t like a story I’ve written it’s usually resigned to a dusty digital corner of google drive.

But if you’re writing on a more traditional medium, and you really fucking hate a story? It wouldn’t be too nonsensical to think that they’d burn it.

(Cue tangent) of course maybe they regretted toastin it and went back like ‘maybe I should use some of the source material to start over. Whoop I lost like 90% of it.’ Perhaps this happened a few times. Perhaps those events, if they led to this world, would have left remnants, okay the point: extinction events. Interpret this how you will, I suppose

(/tangent)

Anyway. Start over. Okay, doing good. Using a similar geological premise bc yeah that part wasn’t so bad, now let’s sprinkle in some flora, fauna, aaaaaand lets give humans a round tw—ah fuck they ruined it again. Chuck it in the ocean and start over again. Maybe save some animals though they weren’t all that bad and it’d be a pain to start completely from scratch.

Let’s hop back to that dusty digital corner and resign everything I’ve just said to the hypothetical (lmao as if it wasn’t already). I doubt you haven’t heard those jokes about how this is the timeline god abandoned.’ Now, if ye Almighty Author can make a world that just keeps going in ON ITS OWN, a story that writes itself—many authors’ DREAM—and then plop it in a corner and leave it, or even straight up forget, everything that’s been happening is indeed the product of probability and actions.

Or, let’s go back even further. Like cheese or smth, let’s whip up a world. Add some rocks, some oxygen, some other stuff perhaps, and see what happens. And in that dusty corner over billions upon billions of years, the beautiful thing that is evolutionary luck works its work. And perhaps there was intervention in that time, perhaps there was not and only people claiming they were the intervention—and that’s given that their interpretation of higher powers is even in the ballpark—hell, this whole post is dependent on that assumption.

Take it back perhaps back even further; create a universe. Create some chemicals. Physics, gravity, energy, all that jazz—and through the combination of those mechanics and also some more luck, hydrogen squished itself together into stars and [insert development of the universe and solar systems and planets here]. Now that I write that, it occurs to me—we could simply be a scientific simulation someone ran, a replica of their own universe perhaps, applying all they knew and filling in as many variables as possible, or hypotheticals for a universe with rules entirely different than theirs, new kinds of physics and new kinds of chemicals and all new kinds of little tiny everythings. And click,

BANG

And here starts the universe.

And of course, in thinking of a higher power as an author or creator or someone running some simulations or someone, it’s entirely possible that things happened to turn out/they modeled things in a way so different than their existence. It’s entirely possible that whatever or whomever that hypothetical creator is, the idea of them is beyond our comprehension, beyond even our idealogical conception.

But if this hypothetical creator does exist, so there may be other universes. Parallel universes, alternative, completely bafflingly different, so many other shelved stories or simulations left to their own devices. And if you add in the actual multiverse theory (in which every choice ever made spawns another universe, and the other universe is one in which a different choice was made, so now they’re two parallel universes), each of these different universes, possibly with entirely different laws of physics and function, they themselves branch off into countless, infinite alternative timelines.

Summary

Section one starts with how there are multiple creation stories and a lot of them share the idea of an original world, then the creator destroying that world (with either fire or flood.)(repeat optional) and recreating it. Think Noah’s Ark.

Section two explores the hypothetical destructions in those stories (the flood or the fire etc) and stages the creator as a writer who is unsatisfied with their stories and thus destroys them.

Section three goes back to the ‘author’ theory and expands upon it with how this story/world (starting where most creationist stories start) may be abandoned on a metaphorical dusty corner of a shelf and essentially running itself—the point here is to create the image of our world being small or insignificant to the author.

Section four takes that idea, but sets the start at the beginning of earth’s creation as a lump of rock.

Section five takes that idea, but sets the start at the beginning of the universe as bunch of energy, matter, what-have-you was floatin’ around out there in them early millennia. It then suggests that this universe could be a simulation in which was tossed whatever existed in them early millennia and some basic rules and laws of physics and such

Section six then goes on to speculate that if this universe is a simulation (or a story, still) the basics of it may very well not be based on whatever the hypothetical author/simulation button presser exists in. Therefore there could be other universes also based on different basic building blocks, perhaps with different laws of physics, for example.

Section seven introduces the idea that if there is a hypothetical author/simulation button presser, there may very well be other stories/simulations (universes), that may be based on aforementioned different basic building blocks. It also tosses in the multiverse theory, which is that every decision ever made spawns a new parallel universe. Envision this as a tapestry of fractals, the beginning points being the simulation button being pressed, or chapter one beginning. There could be infinite possible beginning universe, and adding the multiverse theory, they break off infinite times into infinite parallel universes. Hence the fractals.

#existentialism #religion #universe #universes #parallel universes #creative writing #prose #simulations #stories #writing

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