#they could make pride flags out of his fucking irises

[nethersonq]

day ?????? of doing things nobody fucking asked for

this thing made me nearly start sobbing last night because every time i thought i'd found them all another one popped up. twitter followers watched me go insane in real time

so here. every bakura eye color change i could find. if theres another im going to be really upset about it but i will add it to the chart nonetheless.

edit: extended bakura eye color chart

second edit: bakura chart 3.0

third edit: bakura chart 5.0

#please god end my suffering #yugioh dm #yugioh #yami bakura #bakura #ryou bakura #they could make pride flags out of his fucking irises #stupid dumbass housefly says things #would tag as art but like. does it really. does it really count as art.

[hecksee]

Stained Flowers

Hi this is angsty af but im struggling right now so imma project onto fictional characters

Sorry @lumosinlove I like making Leo suffer

this is my entry for the @hpbrokenhearts ​ contest, i started out writing this when i was struggling, and tbh i still am, but it’s gotten a lot better. 

Much thanks to the wonderful @iswearimnotanaestheticgirl for editing this monstrosity. You wrecked carnage on it, but it helped so much and I love this end result so much. 

Thank you so much to @peggyrose19 and @marauderss-hp for looking this over and giving me suggestions! 

This is probably inaccurate but I don’t know anything about hockey, and this is fanfic so who cares about the accuracy. 

THIS COULD DEFINITELY BE TRIGGERING, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

TW suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, its got a TINY bit of spice sprinkled in (i would rate this teen probably, mature if i was being extra safe), major character death, stress, homophobia, one sided pining, hanakhai, vomiting, something thats sort of like a suicide note, and a shit load of angst

Read on A03 here

Leo knew he was screwed the moment he saw Finn O'Hara on the screen for the first time. He knew he was gonna fall hard. It didn't matter that they had never met or that Leo’s attraction was purely physical. He knew that he would want everything with Finn.

But then Leo started to fall deeper and deeper over time, time that was spent mostly spent obsessing over Finn. Only a few weeks after Leo saw Finn for the first time, it started.

Everybody knew about hanahaki. When someone felt unrequited love, a seed sprouted in their lungs. Nobody knew how or why the seed appeared but it was inevitable. 

The victim would start coughing up flower petals, and if their feelings grew, the flowers would grow larger until the victim couldn’t breath because their lungs were filled with nothing but blossoms.

There were only three things someone with hanahaki could do. The main solution was to surgically remove the flowers but have all feelings of love vanish. And some said it was impossible to ever love another person.

So Leo knew exactly what was going on when he started coughing up small yellow petals a few weeks after he first saw Finn on screen. 

But, over the next few months he learned to recognize the signs. The tingling in the back of his throat before he started coughing up the silky yellow petals. The itch in his left lung when people mentioned Finn O'Hara. The stabbing pain toward the left of his chest when his teammates threw around homophobic slurs and comments like beads at Marti Gras is nothing new, but now it's accompanied with a burning sensation in his lungs and bloody daffodils.

The daffodils. The fucking daffodils. He decided to look the meaning of the cheery flowers up one day. Unrequited love. After that Leo laughed humorlessly, and decided that hanahaki had a fucked up sense of humor.

Somehow, Leo made it through a full year while coughing up a mixture of blood and petals. He learned how to hide it, how to excuse himself from a situation, and how to choke the petals back down while playing. He made sure that nothing would impact his career, no matter how much longer he had left.

Leo feared that his time was almost up some days. On those days, he wondered Why was he alive? Why did only the left lung sting? Wouldn't it just be better to end it than to live through the constant pain?

He almost made it through a year keeping his hanahaki a secret. 

Well, almost. His mom walked in on him cleaning the daffodils smeared with red off the floor, and he had promptly broken down in tears.

He had ended up telling her everything, how he was gay, how he hated himself for it, how he sometimes thought it would be better to just end it all instead, who he loved and why.

His mom had made him tell his coach, insisting it was for the best. There had been a major fight between the coach and him. Leo was yelling and crying but standing his ground about how he needed to play. How playing was the only thing he was living for, damn it. Leo had ended up winning, so he kept playing. And just like before, he kept the hanahaki a secret from everyone, especially his team.

But then, he found out why only his left lung stung. Logan Tremblay. The latest player that was drafted to the Lions. He was newly minted, fresh from Harvard university. Short, broad, brunet, green eyed rookie Tremz. 

As soon as Logan stepped out onto the ice for the first time Leo felt that telltale sting. But it was on the right side of his chest for the first time. Fuck, I'm not having unrequited love from one person, but from two?! 

His right lung had irises. Royalty, the Fleur-De-Lis, France. Leo didn’t know how those things related to Logan but he could take a guess. Logan was French Canadian born and raised, that had to mean something. 

Leo’s life went on. Now he had double the work of fighting the flowers down. Two names instead of one. Leo could tell there was something between Fish and Logan. The intense stares they gave each other across the rink meant something. The tension between them one day had just disappeared. Leo saw something as Logan's hot temper reared up whenever Harzy got into a fight or got hurt. 

The signs grew. Rainbow tape on their sticks, posting LGBTQ+ supporting messages on the team Instagram; small things you’d need to look out for, or know exactly what they meant to know the significance. 

The real confirmation was when the official Lions Instagram posted the picture of Logan and Finn kissing at a pride parade, smudged bi flags painted on both of their cheeks. 

The caption read “We are aware of the homophobia in the league, however, two of our players aren’t willing to hide their relationship from the public anymore. Both Tremz and Harzy have our full support.” 

The moment he saw it, the feeling of petals started to itch in the back of Leo’s throat, but he gagged them back as he scrolled through the comments. They were filled with the expected bigotry and homophobia with the occasional biphobic comment. Yet scattered in were the kind comments, full of support, rays of sunshine on a raining day.

Leo started typing out a comment of his own, telling the happy couple how happy he was for them. But the lie was rancid in his head. The flowers Leo had been choking back came up in a wave of blood. 

Before Leo got hanahaki, the few dreams he had were filled with a faceless man. One that would kiss him and fuck him, but now, now there were two men. And they had faces. 

Finn O'Hara and Logan Tremblay haunted Leo's dreams in the best way possible, more nights than not. Sweet soft kisses, hands tangled in auburn or brown hair, gently worshiping the hard planes and angles that came from a lifelong dedication to hockey were commonplace in Leo's dreams. 

In stark contrast, some nights were filled with sloppy, urgent kisses, nails scratching on backs, and a pure need for release. But the dreams would always end, and Leo was left with the burning pain of self loathing building up in his throat before the flowers would make themselves known.

During this dream, Leo had been on fire all night, and it was thanks to him that the team had been led to victory. So here he was with his boyfriends, celebrating. 

Leo leaned up to give Finn a soft kiss before turning onto his side and beginning to kiss Logan's neck. Finn had started to ruin Leo and didn't stop until Leo had hit the peak of his pleasure.

However, the aftermath of Leo's pleasure was slowly but surely turning into pain. Suddenly the metallic tang of blood was clogging his throat and the familiar smooth petals were filling his mouth. 

The flowers and blood were dripping out of his mouth, and seeping into the white bed sheets. Even worse was that Finn and Logan seemed unsurprised.  no, they were almost happy. Their gentle murmurings of praise turned into cold raucous laughter. In between the harsh laughter they told him how stupid he was, how he was a nobody, how they would never love him.

As the flowers only got worse, coming up in waves and mingled with the tears that were rolling down his face, Finn and Logan vanished. Then he was falling, falling, falling. 

He woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, lungs gasping for air in between choking sobs; lying in a combination of petals and blood. His face was sticky with tears and warm, wet blood, and a few stray yellow and white-ish purple petals stuck to his skin. The only indicator that Leo's dream wasn't all bad was the stickiness in his underwear. But the worst part was that he was alone, stuck with only fantasies, once again.

The next day, Leo knew that practice would be bad. Even though yesterday his team was idolizing the Lions, they sure as hell wouldn’t be idolizing them right now. Practice was full of his teammates throwing around a myriad of slurs. The locker-room was even worse, where the coach wasn’t there to monitor their comments. 

Leo fidgeted with his bracelet, uncomfortable with the comments that were flying around, with the flowers edging up his throat. He didn’t remember what happened next. 

One minute Leo’s fidgeting with his bracelet, the next he’s yelling. Yelling about how people aren’t judged by their sexuality, how hell, maybe there even was a gay person in the room! To that he was obviously asked if he was the gay one, to which, he responded yes. Leo stormed out of the room to a soundtrack, suppressing the flowers fighting their way up his throat as soundtrack of cruel laughter and biting words rang around the room, just like the ones in his dream. 

The next day he dreaded going to practice. He knows he won’t be welcome on the team anymore, so what’s the point of going?

Leo ended up just texting his old coach that he was resigning. His team broadcasted the fact that he’s gay on their Instagram. Now Leo’s the target of the myriad of hate that Finn and Leo faced. It made him sick to his stomach. Seconds later, he was puking into the toilet. No flowers this time, but still unpleasant. 

He still walked with dragging steps to the rink and practiced, of course. He didn’t want to lose his skills when he attempts to go pro. Trying to ignore the fact that he knows no one will take him now. 

Out of the blue, three days after Leo outed himself, his phone rings shrilly. Marlene McKinnon. The Lions announcer. Why was she calling him?

Marlene asked him to play for the Lions because he had great potential. Leo hesitated. Did she not know that he was gay? He pensively inquired about his sexuality, how would that impact his place on the team? 

To his surprise, Marlene told him it wouldn’t influence anything. Leo was shocked, but in the happy way. Then she asked if he had any health conditions. Just like the thing about his sexuality, Leo hesitated. Eventually he nodded and said yes. 

It’s hanahaki, he told her in a slow voice, but it doesn’t impact my playing.

Fucking lie. 

Marlene was silent for a moment but then put him on hold with some shaky words. 5 minutes later, she agrees to let him play, on the condition that his hanahaki doesn’t get worse, and if it does, he needs to have them removed. Leo agreed, and suddenly, Leo was going professional. 

Sure, Leo was worried about becoming a Lion; his subjects of affection were there and they were in a happy relationship. But over time, and many, many practices filled with words thrown at O’Hara and Tremblay, he had learned to choke back the petals. 

After a few months, the day came where Leo was leaving. With many tears, and a lot of goodbyes, Leo left for Gryffindor. After a couple long flights, and a short taxi ride, Leo stepped out of the car to Hogwarts. 

Inside the rink, he was greeted with the signature smell of a hockey arena, he couldn’t quite describe it, but it was pleasant, and reminded Leo of home. 

In a blink, he was bombarded with maroon and gold, hugs and welcoming words. When he turned his head from the excitement, he saw them. Finn and Logan, standing back with Pascal Dumais, who he was going to move in with. 

After meeting everyone and flipping out while Finn and Logan give him a hug while swallowing down the familiar liquid and petals that up, Leo was informed that he won’t be living with the Dumais’ after all. 

“You’ll be living with Finn and Logan, I hope that’s alright?”

Leo quickly excuses himself to the bathroom to let the mixture of flowers, blood, and bile out. 

But Leo ended up moving in with Fish and Tremz. However over the weeks, he formed a close bond with both Finn and Logan. Of course, he became closer with the rest of the team, Loops especially. Hell, Leo has a feeling that Loops knows what it feels like to love someone who will never love him back. 

But after Sirius and Loops get together, Leo knew that he’s the only one who will never get the privilege of having requited love. 

Leo was glad that he had managed to keep it a secret from the team. Well, there were some people he had to tell. After all, Remus was the team medic. Remus was keeping it a secret from the team and the public. But Remus didn’t know who was triggering Leo’s love. The only people who knew were Leo and his mother. 

Each practice where the two of them do anything lovey dovey, Leo needs to be excused while he chokes back the flowers that are bringing themselves up his throat. But his goalie face hadn't been developed over happy things, so he shoved his feelings back and forced himself to remain calm, pretending to support their relationship; which he did, of course he did, but Leo wished more than anything that he was there with them. Leo wishes he was there in between them, wishes he was the one holding hands with them, and sharing sweet soft kisses with them. 

Hell, more than once in the time when Leo was with the Lions he considered ending it all. The thoughts weren’t new, no, he’d been struggling with them since he had realized he was gay. But now, with the objects of Leo’s affection so close yet so far, he didn’t know if it would be worth living.

But then one day, about three years after the hanahaki had started, Leo woke up with agonizing pain in his chest, like someone was squeezing a palm around his heart. He thought back. The aching had worsened every time he interacted Finn and Logan. Now the flowers were coming up almost every hour of every day. The tingling feeling is now always at the back of his mind. As soon as Leo thought about Finn and Logan he felt flowers coming up. 

The flowers are accompanied with a burning pain instead of a small stab. All of the flowers are full blossoms, a few with stems and leaves. They’d be perfect and prim, beautiful, if they weren’t coated in enough blood to look like a murder scene. 

This was it; this was one of his last days, if not his last. 

With slow robotic steps, Leo stands up, taking some deep breaths. He fished a pen and a notebook from his cabinet, and started to write four letters.

The words to his family tell them how sorry he was at how bad he was at hiding his worsening hanahaki, how much he loves them, and how he wishes he could have said goodbye in person. 

“I’m sorry for causing you pain.”

In the letter towards the team he apologized for hiding his disease and explained how thankful he was to be a part of his dream team. He told them how different the Lions were to his old teams, how they were a family and how they loved each other no matter what, regardless of their differences.

“Thank you for being like a family to me.” 

In the one addressed to Logan and Finn, Leo explained how they were the subjects of his attraction, how much they influenced his life coming out by choice, consequences be damned. Through blood, sweat, tears and flowers, he found himself rattling on and on about how much he loved them, how he fell in love with them, and how much he valued the friendship they had; even if it was just friendship. Leo’s hand lingered as he thought about it. Would this letter cause the two of them to blame themselves? Should he really write it? 

No. He had to. Leo added a note telling them not to. It wasn’t their fault, it was his choice. 

He brushed away the crimson mess. With droplets of blood staining his fingers, Leo starts on the final and most formal letter. 

Leo wrote vaguely in this letter. He told that he did have hanahaki, and how he had dealt with it for years before he joined the Lions. He publicly commends the Lions for being so accepting of him, even though he had hanahaki and he was gay. Finally, he thanked his fans for staying with him through it all. 

Then, with all the letters finished, Leo sealed them in envelopes and wrote to whom they are addressed to. Gingerly, Leo placed them on his nightstand and prepared for his final practice. 

During practice Leo told everyone how much he appreciates them, which wasn’t too unusual, so nobody took much notice. Otherwise, practice was uneventful. Leo blocked some passes as they prepped for their game with Hufflepuff next week. 

Leo was coughing almost nonstop during practice but he chokes back the blood, bile, and flowers. He allowed himself to think that this is the last time he’d have to push it down. The aching pain in his chest doesn’t subside, if anything it only grew worse the longer practice goes on. 

Leo walked into the locker-room, preparing to take a shower and stretch before heading home when the aching in his chest grew. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears and the world around him blurred. He swayed, unsteady on his feet, trying not to cry or scream. His breaths were labored, he was becoming lightheaded and his heart was pounding in his chest. The pain became too much to bear and Leo’s legs failed on him.

The team rushes over with concerned expressions on their faces. On his knees, the flowers, stems, and leaves start to come up, splattering all over the cold ground, no matter what Leo does to try and keep them back. The team became frenzied, calling for Remus. 

It was too late. Leo knew that this was his end. 

Once, when Leo was little, he asked his grandmother why people didn't just get the flowers removed. She smiled at him sadly and told him that, there might be a person you loved so much you couldn't bear the idea of not loving them. Even if you died for it. 

At the time, he brushed it off as stupid but now, now as tears sqeezed through his blurry vision and the feeling of the cold tile floor disappears, he understands exactly what she meant. 

The last thought that went through his mind, before the petals, flowers, and blood came up for the last time, was of his two loves. In an instant, all of his fantasies of Finn and Logan melted into the reality of their friendship and flew past his eyes. With one last satisfied smile, Leo closed his eyes. His grandma was right. 

Some love really was worth dying for.

Just a quick reminder, this is my entry for @hpbrokenhearts so if you liked this fic or it made you cry/broke your heart, please put a broken heart in the comments, either in emoji form or not! Thank you so much for reading!!!

#lumosinlove #coast to coast #sweater weather #c2c #lumosinlove coast to coast #lumosinlove sweater weather #finn O'Hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #angst #leo x logan x finn #hanahaki #im sorry #tw suicidal thoughts #tw blood #tw hanahaki #tw dark #tw major character death #tw nsfwish #nswfish

[h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e]

State of Mind [B.H. x you]

Request: @lemonypink​

Inspiration: Rock Me by Great White

Word Count: 2253 Warnings: profanity.

Written Date: 12/27/19-1/1/20 Posted Date: 1/1/2020

[MASTERLIST]

Dating Billy was like dating one of the many attractive rockstars plastered on the pale walls of your bedroom, except only with slightly less screeching girls and more bloody knuckles. Billy hated when other men, many who are older, would try to propose to you some sort of midnight deal involving money and their hotel rooms and you hated when girls would reach up and twirl bits of his hair or rub the lapels of his jean jacket with their fingers every time you left to get more booze or for a quick bathroom break. 

This was the Sunset Strip, Hollywood’s most popular spot for metal musicians and whores with fishnets that run up the expanse of their thighs, and it was a dangerous combo when the two of you were thrown into the mix. Yet, it was a drug that provided cheap thrills, and you and Billy were just teenagers without a whole lot of money lining your pockets. This was your amusement park. This was where parts of your D.N.A laid to rest. Billy’s too.

They say one loses fifty to about a hundred strands a day and you cannot imagine any other area in Los Angeles, other than your home, that’s collected all 54,750 of your fallen hair since the age of fifteen. No other area’s collected your fingerprints as much or your littered cigarettes. No other venue outside of the Whisky A Go-Go have you and Billy carried out most of your sloppy quickies in the public restroom—usually because Billy dragged you after a guitarist or singer couldn’t keep their eyes off you.

Billy’s jealousy has gotten you guys into more trouble than sometimes it’s worth. You’ve gotten kicked out of clubs for smashing beer bottles against the wall just centimeters away from his target, a musician’s most precious asset—his pouty face. You were surprised that you could count all scuffles Billy’s gotten himself into with band members, some from bands you actually enjoyed watching, on one hand.

You still haven’t forgiven him for banning the two of you from ever attending an L.A. Guns gig again.

“This place blows.” Billy slams his glass on the counter in a huff and the bartender gives him a pointed look before shaking his head to himself.

His attitude tonight was wearing down your placid features faster than a clock counted minutes. And, he’s hardly glanced in your direction to at least make it easier for you to hear him among all the other noise that penetrated your ear drums. 

He slid off the stool and doesn’t apologize when his shoulder shoved into your chin. Sometimes you swore you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him.

All the trouble with security and other patrons you both been in hadn’t just been because of his loose tongue and quick fists. No, you were pretty sure you’ve been in more altercations that involved a split lip or black eye than he had. There were too many bimbos that rubbed you the wrong way and too many guys who thought they had a free pass to grope you just because you sometimes wore mini skirts and low-cut tops.

You knew Billy’s itching mood meant you had to turn down alcohol and provide the role of babysitter because if you didn’t, he’d do something that even he’d regret. But, you’ve never been one with much patience. It’s why you hardly knew the three-year-old stranger who lived under your parents’ roof and called you “sissy” in passing. You didn’t feel all that bad for the cold shoulder she often received, your mother and step-father provided plenty of warmth. They preferred her over you anyway.

“Wait up, jerk!” You called after your boyfriend, though he didn’t slow down. You weren’t doubtful that it was due to him ignoring you over simply just not hearing you.

The effort in teasing your hair and painting your face to near perfection had gone to waste so far, but you didn’t mind. The ever prideful girl in a leather skirt and jean jacket, though that alone couldn’t define you.

The bartender’s glare was glued to you, waiting for the payment of Billy’s whiskey glasses. You searched through your pockets, only finding a couple loose bills and some change of mostly pennies you knew wasn’t not nearly enough to cover the tap. You set it on the counter and chased after Billy’s direction before you could be flagged. Luckily some drunk was hassling the bartender for another serving and you caught the wisps of Billy’s dirty-blond locks leaving through the back exit.

Barging through the door, you found Billy already sucking on a Marlboro—your Marlboro.

You marched through the dirty alley. “Hey, stupid, I could’ve gotten arrested back there! I haven’t any money on me you know!” Just inches away from him, you continued, “He knows my freakin’ face.”

“Tough luck.” The smoke harbored in his mouth was blown into your face. 

You swiped at him, knocking his, well, your cigarette on the ground. “I’m so sick of your pointless attitude, Billy. Grow up!”

With a flared nose, Billy scoffed, “Everything’s fuckin’ pointless, babe. Don’t you get it?” The point of his burning finger touched the chilled skin of your chest, pushing you. “You’re pointless.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you don’t mean that.” Focusing on the golden pendant that’s hung around his neck, you could feel the suffocating heat of his blue irises. “Two years can’t just go by and not mean anything,” you mumbled. 

“Yeah? Well, it did!” A bit of his spit landed on your cheek as he puffed a breath down your face. 

You knew this act almost too well. Billy may be the biggest asshole who ever lived, though you knew you stood in a place well below a pedestal to look down upon him, but whenever this sudden bout of anger was directed at you, you knew it was displaced. Billy had a fishermen’s nest worth of loathing in the pit of his stomach, directed at his father and things that couldn’t be undone from the past. 

You’ve spent about 730 days together so far. You weren’t just some cheap date nor an easy lay. Billy’s shown you too much—given you more—to be able to take it back straight out of the blue. Damaged goods. That’s what the two of you were, and he found comfort in the thought that he wasn’t alone.

But, even when your brain knew better, your heart found it difficult to differentiate truth from impulse. And right now, the beating beneath your breast bone was thumping a very low, and foreboding note.

You tongued at the rim of your upper back molar, a nervous habit since preschool, before stating, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Just get out of here!” Billy pointed at the dark street as if you hadn’t rode here as his passenger for the millionth time. “Find your own way home.”

“The hell I’m not,” you ground between your teeth. Your palms met his chest a couple times before he snatched your wrists. 

But, when you glanced up at him, his face was turned into the deeper end of the alleyway. It’s almost too dark to see, but when you squinted you made out the shape of a figure, presumably a guy. And upon closer inspection, you noticed he was about your age. Maybe younger if going by the pudginess of his cheeks. You’d never seen him around before.

“Hey, asshole, what are you staring at?!” Billy’s voice rang in your ear like the beating of heavy church bells, or worse, thunder.

The lone boy looked stuck in a crossfire, and immediately you knew he was in fact younger by a few years based on the softness of his eyes despite the glow of a cigarette between two fingers. Hell, even at fourteen you’d been smoking for at least a year. 

His knee jittered, ready to bounce if Billy proved too big of a menace, but he stood at a dead end. He had no where to go. 

“Billy,” you warned, but Billy had already succumbed to the role of a predator. Tense muscle pulled out of your grasp as he stalked towards the wide-eyed deer. “Billy!”

“That’s it! I’m outta here!” But, this was what he wanted. If he couldn’t shoo you away like a pigeon picking at crumbs on a sidewalk, he’d ignore you like a lone cat skittering in the neighborhood. 

Making up your mind about hailing a cab and then raiding your step-father’s study to pay for the ride, you’re about to reach the sidewalk when suddenly your blood ran cold. You could recognize the clinking of the sheathing of a pocketknife, you’ve carried the same one you found just hours before the first day of fourth grade on you since. Right now, it fit snug inside your leather boot and it bumped against your ankle with every step. 

Which meant Billy somehow hadn’t slipped your knife in his pocket. 

Yelping, Billy fell against the bricks and slid down until he reached the littered ground of smokes and shards of glass. The boy had already been running away by the time you’d turned to watch, shoving past you with sweat beads above his brow. Some of the glint of the metal in his hand was obstructed by a thick, red consistency and the steady thumping in your chest stuttered.

Running after the boy was a lost cause, especially since the streets tended to be busier at night than in the daylight. Yet, by the time you knelt beside your fallen boyfriend, his breath released in puffs and the tear of his white T-shirt across his abdomen contained stained blots. The skin beneath raw and wet, but not deep at all. 

“Oh, thank God,” the breath swooshed out of your lungs, “It’s just a nick, Billy.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled as he inspected the cut. “Way to go world, just kick me when I’m already down!” 

Your shaped eyebrows knitted together. “Jesus, have you gone mad? You just got shanked and you’re laughing?!” Your hand hovered just inches away from his wound. “What should we do?”

While you’d been too worried, the pads of his fingers grazed the slice. He winced. “Tonight, I was supposed to be some pissy prick, not escape death from the hands of some scrawny freak.” 

“Does—Does it hurt?!”

“It’s not that bad, actually.” Yet, he grunted, “Little fucker,” under his breath as he got to his feet. You followed his lead, still shaken. “It just stings mostly. I’m more worried about the questions someone might ask when they see this,” he gestured to the gash of his ruined shirt, ”but we gotta clean it, babe.” 

“We?” Arms crossed beneath your chest, you remembered the things he’d said just moments ago. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just tell me that I’m pointless! Clean it yourself.”

“Hey. Hey,” Billy reached for your arms, gently uncrossing them until your hands were enveloped in his. Somehow even when it was just above fifty degrees, Billy’s body was a furnace that radiated heat. You think it was the anger he could never quite let go of. “I didn’t mean any of it.” 

You sheepishly glanced towards the side with puckered lips before you spoke. “You sure you didn’t mean it?”

“Never mean it.” He kissed at your hairline before pulling away.

“Then, why were you being so mean?” you questioned him, still a little insulted.

He sighed and brought you into his side, almost forgetting about the tenderness of his stomach but your were mindful. You knew this trick of his, tucking your head under his chin to hide the plain emotions he failed to bar behind a careless façade.  

“Because of my dad… He—uh,“ his adam’s apple bobbed against your temple. “We’re leaving. He’s moving us to Indiana.”

Just when you thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, Billy dropped a bomb on your head. 

A/N: You wanted chaotic and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than 80’s Sunset Strip. Sorry it’s not 100% what you wanted, the story just seemed to go in this direction.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 2 #st #st imagines #st imagine #billy hargrove x y/n #reader insert #imagine #fanfiction #dacre montgomery

[ofmcxie]

&&. ( ada rhodes ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( she ) is a ( 768 / appears [25] ) year old ( vampire ) who resembles ( anya chalotra ). ( she ) has been said to be ( dauntless & protective ) but also quite ( possessive & volatile ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( she ) has chosen to align with ( the vampires ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( an assassin ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole. // fulfilling celine dahl’s rival

(( Hey guys!! I’m Jade and will be playing the lesbian vampire disaster that is Ada here. I’m always awful at these intro things, but i’m really looking forward to rping with you all :D Feel free to hmu for plots anytime because I live for them lol. Also, i’m going bullet point in the hopes I don’t write an entire essay and it gets too long to read, but we’ll see how well that goes...xD ))   

Backstory: 

Ada didn’t had the easiest start in life. Born to simple farm folk who never really wanted her, in a time of knights and holy wars when a woman’s sole purpose was considered marriage and children.  

She had never been that kind of girl. One of her earliest memories being a time she had tried to go out training with the boys only to be dragged back to their homestead to help her mother cook.

Her father drank a lot, and was an incredibly abusive individual. It certainly wasn’t helped by the fact he was a self-riotously religious man, and Ada had been born with a defect. Her irises had taken on a purple hue from the day she had opened them; not enough to be obvious unless you truly looked, but he had deemed it a mark of the devil. 

Ada hadn’t seen it that way. Instead, growing to relish in her uniqueness. Like a physical manifestation of her defiance burned into her very soul, it meant she wasn’t born to be weak. 

It caused a great many fights with both her parents who weren’t exactly good people at the best of times, going to bed beaten and hungry more often than not.

The years that followed were no kinder, Ada haven all but given up until one night, were a chance encounter would change her life forever. 

She’d been following the well-trodden path home when she’d been ambushed.    

Having nothing of value to give the bandits, they’d settled for some other form of payment. 

She’d tried to fight them tooth and claw when she realised what was happening, unarmed so fighting dirty, their blood both under her nails on her lips by the time they’d got her to the ground. But they had her now, and they were angry...She’d grown up used to getting in fightings, it was probably the reason she’d lasted as long as she had, but there were just too many of them.      

Ada had been incredibly lucky that day. The men not having time to do much of anything before they were being flung off her with such a speed and force that it blurred together. She couldn’t even see what was causing it, but was pretty certain she heard bones crack as they hit trees. 

She’d jumped to her feet uncertain whether to expect the same fate, but the whole situation had her reeling, and she’d fallen to her knees again before being able to do anything about it.      

An eery quite followed suite, and by the time she’d caught her breath long enough to look up again -- she would have never been prepared for the sight that met her. 

It was a woman; beautiful, covered in blood dripping from her mouth and...glorious. Where most would have been terrified Ada only found herself awestruck. 

She’d briefly contemplated if this individual’s fangs were a defect as her eyes had been, and the words were out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying.      

The comment may have been idiotic, but it seemed to snap the woman out of whatever trance she had been in. A low chuckle leaving her lips instead going for Ada’s neck. 

They’d begun to talk, and she’d found this woman was a skilled assassin of all things, apparently it’s easy to do when no one ever sees you. Women certainly weren’t capable of such a thing; it made her work easy. 

By the end of the night they’d ended up in a contract of sorts. This woman would teach her some tricks of the trade in exchange for her blood whenever asked for.  

Ada was hardly innocent, and if meant gaining even a modicum of power over her own life then she would grab it with both hands. 

They met in that very same spot often after that. Three years of being taught certain tricks; where to nick so you could leave the scene before anyone would notice, what substances made for the least traceable poisons.

She’d also helped her get over how she originally reacted to pain, teaching her how to lean into it instead. It was good thing to have in one’s repertoire if she ever got caught and interrogated -- But she unwittingly developed a slight thing for it in the process though she’d be damed if she’d ever admit that, and while she’s 100% a sadist at heart, she does still have a small weakness for it on certain occasions. 

The addiction of a vampire bite was no small thing either, and Ada began to believe she might be in over head with this woman; until the night raiders ransacked her village.  

She’d been left for dead, convinced it was the end...and yet woke up with a new lease of life. 

The woman had turned her, their relationship no longer being a one way street it seemed.    

Ada stayed with her for a few centuries before they eventually branched off on their own, though they’re still incredibly close to this day. 

Over the years that followed, she quickly gained notoriety for her ability to complete with freelance kill contacts so efficiently, and eventually flagged on the vampire court’s radar --- In the end being taken into their employ of her own volition, more than happy to serve the species that had granted her freedom. 

It was during one of these contracts she met an insufferable fallen angel who happened to be after the same person. It turned into a weird game of cat and mouse trying to thwart each other’s attempts, and Ada’s not even certain who actually got the kill in the end, but they still argue about it to this day.  

She’s been working for the king and his inner court ever since, and is incredibly loyal to them. She takes pride in being good at her job, and has no qualms killing for them without question -- Her only hard line is children, but that particular request has never come up anyway...     

Personality: 

Ada keeps her true nature very lowkey and acts differently around most people aside from a select few. She’s very much the ‘look like an innocent flower but be the serpent under it’ type character, and incredibly manipulative when she wants to be. This is especially prominent in the fact that Ada’s gay af, but she has no qualms flirting with men when they’re prey or she needs something from them. 

She really does love the colour of her eyes and is glad they didn’t change when she was turned, but on a job she’ll usually experiment with different coloured contacts due to the uniqueness of such features. 

Additionally, Ada’s completely down with this notion of vampires coming out of hiding, believing them to be a superior species that shouldn’t have to bow down to mutts or mortals just because their precious guardian angels deem it so — She plans on doing whatever she can to help further that cause.            

Connections: 

I’m literally open to anything, but here are just a few thoughts: 

Enemies with benefits: Filled by Celine Dahl. These two HATE each other; like passion of a thousand suns hate. I mean, Ada isn’t always the calmest person at the best of times, but Celine can somehow PISS HER THE FUCK OFF MORE THAN ANYBODY ELSE IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. With that being said, there’s also this weird pull between them. It’s like all that anger and hatred and loathing spills over into everything they do -- but Ada kind of lives for it. They just try to get under each other’s skin in every way possible. They’ve even slipped up a few times and had some pretty intense hate sex because FUCK I HATE YOU SO GOD DAMN MUCH AND I REALLY WANT TO HURT YOU BUT YOU’RE ALSO REALLY HOT AND NOW MY HAND’S AROUND YOUR NECK AND YOUR STUPID FACE IS INCHES FROM MINE AND...screw it, i’m totally topping though don’t even try!!

Fuck buddies/booty calls 1/4: Rosalia Fuentes, TBA. Ada has nothing against sex workers and sees it as a reputable job like anything else, but like, girl is egotistic af and frankly sees the thought of paying for sex offensive of her skill set. These would basically just be her go-to people whenever she’s back in Amsterdam, and wants someone who’s just completely dtf from the moment they meet up rather than pursuing someone new.

Vampires with the same maker who she weirdly considers family despite hating the term: TBA. I just...love the idea of this? Like Umbrella Academy-esk sort of misfit family that would actually kill for each other.   

People who’s family members/loved ones she’s killed, not that they’d know it was actually her...Or if they do there’s no way to prove it: TBA. Just give me allll the angst!    

I would love you 5eva if you actually brought her Maker here. 

Her favourite blood doll: TBA. Same as the fuck buddies connection, but already pretty addicted to being bitten. Ada doesn’t mind paying for this sort of thing as much, though this would be someone who doesn’t make her pay for it even if they work as one, or maybe that’s not even what they do for a living? Basically an individual Ada would consider making personally her’s if she was around more consistently and didn’t run the risk of having them in constant withdrawal mode.   

Anything else you can think of, come at me!!

#nhqintro #abuse tw #non-con tw #blood tw #murder tw #//They're very vague or brief mentions but I thought i'd flag them all just in case #//Side note: The bullet points did not help lol