Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds​ : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens.  Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

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Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door. 

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound. 

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.” 

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now. 

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog​

Soul anon yaaaal!

I loved what you did w my last request so I'm, as would Alyssa Edwards say: back back back back again!

So a Soulmate Au (oh really?), where you can see when your soulmate is in danger of dying, like you see everything w their eyes and as Levi is this badass man who is always in pre-death moments, reader constantly connects w him this way.

But, just like w the "take my pain", Levi never sees anything that connects him w his soulmate, so he has no clue who could it be.

Until someday he finally sees his soulmate is in danger, and she specifically asks for him to save her bc she saw him saving a lot of people so many times... And he has to run against time to save reader.

Happy ending as always!

Hi soul anon!! Also, I love Alyssa Edwards <3

Her eyes, his heart.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: soul anon, modern AU, romance, cop Levi, fluff, angst, love, falling in love, happy ending.

Concept: Levi is always in near-death situations with his job and when he does, his soulmate sees what happens. Levi has never seen anything from his soulmate, but he knows his has been getting a lot. During a normal safe day, Levi sees through your eyes and you are begging him to help you as someone chases you down. Levi pieces together the visions and saves you just in time.

Bullets slammed into Levi's car right by his head. Levi flinched and felt his soul link in his eyes making the whites glow. He gritted his teeth as the bullets ripped through the car as he used it as cover. He could just about hear comms chatter over the sound of the gunfire.

He counted the bullets of the handgun until he knew they were out. He knelt up and twisted his body. He leaned over the hood of his car and fired at the robbers at the jewellery store. He lowered his gun and sighed when he knew it was over.

He stood up and let the smell of gunpowder, blood and dirt hit him. He scrunched up his nose a little and felt his connection go. He frowned a little in thought before clearing up the scene and calling it in and asking for an ambulance.

Levi got into his car and drove to the station with a rain cloud over his head. He called in his shot-up car and went to his office. He sat down and wrote up his report as his mind was on his soulmate. Levi had been through a lot and sent images and visions to them, but he'd never seen anything.

Hange leaned in your doorway. "Hey? You made it back."

Levi looked over at his friend. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He frowned a little. "I send a lot of visions to my soulmate, but I've not seen a single thing from them. Does that mean I don't have one?"

They hummed. "You have one because you send them. I think it's likely that they live a very safe life."

Levi ruffled his hair. "I feel bad that I send them so much."

"I'm sure they don't mind."

"It's disturbing stuff."

Hange hummed in thought. "Well, maybe they don't do dangerous to protect you. You go through enough."

Levi blushed a little. "That's kind of them."

"It is." Hange pulled back. "I'll leave you be. Maybe you should take some time to think everything over."

"Hmm."

Levi took time off work as Hange's words fluttered around his head. He stayed safe at home so he wouldn't flood his soulmate's head with bad things. He drank calming tea, exercised and didn't push himself.

He relaxed one day in the living room of his house and felt a rush. He gasped and opened his eyes to see running and heard a woman panting. He looked around and frowned when he heard you calling out places, places he knew in the city.

He grabbed his keys, jacket, gun and badge before racing out of his apartment. "Talk to me, come on."

You panted and kept running. "Help me, please detective Ackerman! Help me! He's going to kill me!"

Levi gritted his teeth and felt helpless. He jumped into his car and raced off towards where you'd been. "Show me more."

You skidded down an alley and slammed into a door causing you to fall into an abandoned building. "Shit. Ow."

Levi turned his car down a road and knew where you were. "Hold on."

You pushed yourself up and ran into the building. You covered your mouth and slipped into a room. You crouched down and hid under broken abandoned furniture. "Help me."

Levi slammed his fist against the wheel. "Come on!" He noticed the alley you'd gone down. "Got you." He pulled up and flew out of his car and raced down the alley. "I'm coming."

You whimpered and looked out to see a man with a knife. You gasped and hid further into your hiding spot. You covered your mouth with both hands as tears filled your eyes. You screamed when the table above you was ripped away from you. You fell back and crawled away. "NO!"

Levi pulled his gun out, turned the safety off and ran into the room you were in. He gritted his teeth when he saw your attacker holding your neck with his knife raised. Levi pointed. "FREEZE POLICE! Put the FUCKING knife down!"

The man glared at Levi, then back down at you and went to stab again. "Die."

Levi fired three bullets into your attacker. He ran over and slammed into the man before he fell onto you. He turned the attacker around and cuffed him. "Piece of shit." He panted and looked over to you and felt his heart skip a beat. "You must be my soulmate."

You welled up and nodded. "I am."

"Why have you not shown me anything until now?"

You sat up and rubbed your tears. "Because you were going through enough. I tried to live a safe life, but I failed. I'm sorry."

He knelt in front of you, then pulled you into his arms. "Don't be sorry. You're so sweet to...to live a safe life...for me..." He clung to you. "I'm just glad I could save you in time."

"I knew you'd find me. I figured out you were a detective from the visions. I heard people shout you and you report your name. I knew you'd figure out where I was with my callouts."

He rubbed your back. "You did good. You did real good." He pulled back and wiped your tears. He smiled a little at you and felt the urge to kiss you. "You're beautiful."

You blushed. "You're very handsome."

He leaned closer and kissed you lightly. "I should call backup." He held you against him and called it in. He helped you up and walked with you out to his car. He pulled his jacket off and put it around you as you sat in his car with your legs out. "Do you need anything else?"

You shook your head and held his hand. "No."

He squeezed tightly. "I'm going to take care of you now, okay? I'm also going to be more careful." He crouched in front of you. "I swear."

You smiled at him. "I'm just happy you saved me."

"Can I take you on a date?"

You blushed a little and then nodded happily. "I would like that."

"It'll be safe."

You hummed a laugh. "I look forward to it."

He took your hand and kissed your fingers. "Me too."

You are right and you should say it. I figured this out a while ago, but the reason (mainly) why some marginalized groups (a progressive society) celebrate ppl like Harry and Taylor "supporting" them is because as het white cis attractive people, these celebrities represent "acceptable" society "supporting" marginalized peoples, if that makes sense. People who are "acceptable" by society, get all of the benefits, traditionally (cis white het people). It's human to want social approval, marginalized people want it too. When a gay fan knows that Taylor supports him (cis pretty white woman) it's like "society in general" that was so rejecting, supports him. That's powerful. Another queer person (im sorry to be blunt) is just another marginalized person with the same struggle in accessing social approval i.e. resources and belonging. People can more easily celebrate "normal celebrities" accepting "difference" than pure difference. It's why Harry in a dress was "acceptable" for most people while Billy Porter dawning full ball gowns regularly is "too much and too weird". Harry in makeup needs defending, but lil nas x needs questioning.

you're exactly right and we also need to acknowledge the connection between race and the treatment of queer celebrities. white queer celebrities usually just have their sexuality erased (lady gaga, billie joe armstrong, andrew scott, halsey). poc and especially black celebrities who are queer either have their sexuality completely ignored in favor of viewing them as Just Black (frank ocean, meg thee stallion) or, if they're too queer to erase, they're demonized and treated like freaks for being gnc (lil nas x, billie porter). the way people treat gay celebrities just boils down to how socially acceptable of a fag they are and being white, cis, and gender conforming all tie into that.

Hi! So from the prompt list, could you do the 44th dialogue prompt where reader and roommate!Bucky are talking and bucky just keeps falling in love with her more and more but reader is oblivious to his flirting bc she doesn't think anybody wants her and while they are talking and bonding one evening they fall into the category of relationships as the topic of the conversation (sorry if it doesn't make sense, english isn't my first language)

Bad Night

Summary: After a bad date, Bucky offers his help.

Warnings: Some angst, lil fluffy, pretty cheesy, mentions of sex,

AU: Roommate!Bucky x reader

AN: After 3 days I'm finally letting this go. Not very sure how this got so long, but part of me wants to make a part 2 if that would interest anyone.

Prompt from this list. Requests are always open, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.

MASTERLIST

"Hey, dollface, can you look at something for me?" You heard Bucky call, his footsteps getting closer to your room. "If it has to do with your testicles, then no. I will not."

He stopped in your doorway, eyes wide as he looked you over. "Oh, wow. Where you going? Got a hot date you didn't tell me about?" He teased, walking further into the room.

"Yeah, hopefully this one actually goes decent. Now what do you need?"

He turned so his back was to you and pulled his shirt off. "This place on my scar is all itchy. Does it look irritated?"

Until that day you had came home early from work to Bucky standing in the kitchen shirtless. He had expected you to immediately look at the cluster of scar tissue on his shoulder and never see him the same. Instead, you had just greeted him like any other day; a warm smile that made his heart melt before blabbering about your day and asking him about his.

This hadn't been the first time he'd asked for you to inspect a spot on his jagged scar. Although for the first month he'd make it a point to cover it, not wanting to freak you out.

That's when he got more comfortable, walking around without a shirt or just in a towel after a shower. When your smile started making his heart melt even more than before.

You touched your fingers to a small red blotch on the spot where dark metal met skin and he shivered slightly, goosebumps forming on his skin. "Yeah, it is a little. Try putting lotion on it."

He sighed and turned to face you, looking down at your dress. "Who is this guy? Do I know him?" He said cocking an eyebrow at you. "I tried that stupid dating app you suggested." You exhaled, shrugging your shoulders.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shook his head. "You're not going." He said folding his arms across his chest. You raised your eyebrows and copied his actions. "And whys that?"

"Because, I should've never told you to try it. Dating apps are full of weird people." He muttered, going over to your dresser. "Murderers, stalkers, creepy cat people."

He opened the drawer and pulled out some clothes to stuff into your hands. "Which is why, you're staying in with me." He smiled, sparkling white teeth flashing at you.

Rolling your eyes you put the clothes back in their spots. "If I don't go on a decent date for once, I'm going to end up a creepy cat person. Besides, not all cat people are creepy. Mrs. Lawrey is really nice."

"She's an exception." He nodded, following you towards your bedroom door and down the hall. "If it makes you feel better, I'll text you if he starts acting creepy."

He huffed a breath and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to look at him. "Fine, but, that means I get to come rescue my girl if he does."

You felt a slight blush creep your neck and moved away from him to slip your shoes on. "You're just saying that, because I pay half of the bills." You said, opening the front door.

"And you cook pretty good. Now, go on. Be safe." He teased, swatting at your backside as you walked out into the hallway. "Try not to break anything, please." You told him on your way down the hallway.

"Not making a promise I might break."

_____

The date had went horrible, one slip up and he said a few choice words to you before calling a cab to leave.

You swiped your fingertips under your eyes to erase any sign of crying before you got to your front door, wanting to avoid Bucky at all costs.

"Hey, dollface. Back already?" He said from the living room. "Yeah..." You mumbled back, trying to make a break for your bedroom to change.

Bucky could tell something was wrong by how you weren't rambling about everything that happened. "Oh, no you don't. Get back in here."

You exhaled and turned back around to look at him. "What, James?" You sighed, walking closer to where he was sat in a recliner. "What'd he do?" He said, narrowing his eyes at you. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"You're crying, I wanna know why. What'd he do?" You rolled your eyes at his stern voice and shook your head. "Just didn't go very well." You said, sucking in a deep breath.

They never did. As soon as you let one little fact slip, they'd high tail. You would've been better off staying home like Bucky had suggested.

Bucky's voice broke you from your self pity. "C'mere." His hand reached out to grab your wrist and tug you closer. "I'm not sitting on your lap, that's weird."

He scrunched his nose up and shook his head. "Doesn't have to be. Stop being a brat and let me comfort you."

Once you were sat on his right thigh with your side against him, he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head back against the chair. "This should be our new bonding method. Feels like we're getting closer by the second."

You teetered your head back and forth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Maybe because, I'm on your lap. That's pretty close."

A soft pat to your thigh and he was looking directly at you, blue eyes dancing back and forth in curiosity.

He wanted to know what made you so sad and torn up about one stupid date. "Tell me about it?"

You took another deep breath and he lifted his head so you could slip your arm behind his neck. "Every single time I go on a date, they mention sex. As soon as I tell them I'm a virgin they're gone. Tonight's was just extra rude about it."

His eyebrows creased together, hand moving to your knee. "You're a virgin? How?"

You looked at the ceiling, tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. "Hm, could be from never having sex." You said the most obvious answer.

"No, I mean-" he huffed a laugh and gestured a hand over you. "Look at you."

You pinched his side and he narrowed his eyes at you. "I thought we told each other everything?" He mumbled, his lips turning down into a frown.

"No, James. You tell me everything. I don't tell you near as much." You said patting his chest, the chain of his dog tags cool on your palm. "You don't have to, I know a lot just by paying attention." He said, giving a nonchalant shrug.

"Now, explain, miss goody-two-shoes. Why hasn't anyone popped your cherry?"

You looked to your lap and pursed your lips. "When I was younger I never felt the need to lose it. Now, I can't seem to find a guy who doesn't want to have sex on the first date. I'm not losing it to someone I barely know."

When Bucky stayed silent you looked at him, he was chewing on the inside of his cheek and you could see the gears turning as he looked at you.

He wanted to offer his help, but didn't want to scare you away. That was the whole reason he hadn't said how he felt over the past couple of months.

Although, he wasn't sure how you never noticed. How you hadn't noticed the lingering touches and looks, everything he'd say.

You had waved it off as mindless flirting because that's how he played it off; as him being a flirt without any serious intentions.

"You're being quiet and it's weird. Say something." You said flicking the tip of his nose. "I'll do it. If you wanna lose it, I'll do it. I know a lot about you."

"Buck-" you shook your head, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying. "You can't be serious." You said breathing a soft laugh.

He nodded and his hand on your knee moved to the back of your thigh.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you looked at him, his strong features completely serious. "I'm gonna go to bed. Its late."

Just like Bucky thought would happen, he was scaring you away. "Wait- no, come back." He said as you pulled out of his grip and stood.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. "Nope, not coming back. I know you don't mean it because... You're Bucky and you say shit like that all the time, so..." You inhaled deeply and started towards the hallway. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed."

Bucky stood from the chair and followed after you. "Sugar, wait." He grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you towards him, nearly crashing you into his chest.

In a sudden movement, his hands held your cheeks and his lips engulfed yours, the abrupt motion causing you to stumble a step back; your hands flying up to grip the sides of his shirt.

The kiss was slow and deep, the taste of his minty toothpast flooding your tastebuds when he slipped his tongue pass your lips.

He pulled away after a moment, looking at your shocked expression. "I mean it."

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat) 

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!! 

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst 

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia  @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head. 

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself. 

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me. 

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?” 

“Yeah.” 

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil. 

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.” 

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought. 

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb. 

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No. 

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left. 

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far,  1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”. 

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton​ for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell.  and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that.  title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it.  alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count: 

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur.  Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was. 

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face.  One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden.  I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too.  Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day.  Something like learning to garden. 

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing.  He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless.  He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini.  The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas.  Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’.  Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour.  That’s where his weekly livestreams began.  He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans.  Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day.  Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade.  Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber.  Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?” 

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed.  “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process.  It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’.  Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance.  He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him.  Though, he would admit that he needed a shower. 

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up.  Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know.  Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise.  Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself.  He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride.  He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list:  @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​  @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​​ @g-l-pierce​ @thecurlsofgod​

hannibal questions! 🍖🔪

@nietzscheantrout @horrorlesbians and @hanniba1 wanted me to answer these hannibal questions and i wrote too much but oh well! thanks to all 3 of you ilu!!!

favorite episode and why: oh we’re just goin straight to the hard questions huh um OKAY so i think i can only do an ep a season - s1: SORBET SUPREMACY! you get to see the exact moment will looks at hannibal and thinks “.........shit. it’s him isn’t it. he’s The One. SHIT.” and that is so important to me - s2: this one is really hard maybe naka-choko? it’s so fucking gay and sexy. but tome-wan... but mizumono............ yeah idk - s3: torn between digestivo and the wrath of the lamb cuz they both hurt SOOO good much; i love will breaking up with hannibal and hannibal manipulating the situation so will can’t leave asldkjansk it’s so toxic we have to stan..... and for twotl i mean do i really have to give a reason every scene LIVES in my mind and it contains my favorite shot in the whole show:

that is LOVE baby! that is DESIRE! that is being ENTHRALLED!!!!

least favorite episode and why: i feel like they’re all so necessary that it’s kind of impossible to say but probably antipasto. i get sick of hannibal and bedelia’s shenanigans really quickly and as much as i hate to admit it... i miss will. i also think it was an extremely weak season opener and i blame it for getting the show canceled sjshshsgsg the resentment...

favorite side character: chiyoh or jimmy or actually wait— RANDALL TIER 🖤

if you could bring back one character who died, who would it be?: RANDALL FUCKING TIER. i want there to be a weird thing with him and hannibal and will going on. but also i love what his death did for will so idfk, other than him it’s gotta be beverly

dish prepared in the show that you would like to try eating/making: i was supposed to make hannibal’s osso bucco recipe like 3 weeks ago but it completely slipped my mind so i guess i’ll get on that my next grocery trip  

which side character would you kill off?: chilton just because for god’s sake just let the man DIE ALREADY poor guy <- i’m taking ava’s answer because YEAH

was there any scene that you didn’t like to look at?: nah. the skin ripping scenes at the beginning of either kaiseki or sakizuki (idk i don’t remember, i hardly watch s2a) are particularly brutal but i tough it out

biggest ship: i mean do i even have to say

why did you start watching hannibal?: my wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, and her dad were watching it as it was airing and i was like “oh cool hannibal lecter origin story” but due to inconsistent access to the episodes i would just watch it randomly and that is... not the way to watch hannibal. i gave up around the end of s2 but knew hannigram was It regardless. i decided to watch s3 for the first time earlier this year just to have finished it and was like HOLD UP and did an immediate rewatch that left me... well, how i am now

favorite hannibal fic if you’ve read any?:

oh boy. yall ready for this? all of these can be found on ao3 obviously (i’m so sorry this is so long but i guess i’ve been asked to put together a fic rec anyway)

as soft, as wide as air by blackknightsatellite, the ladders series by emungere, blackbird by emungere, consenting to dream series by emungere, taken for rubies by emungere, at first meeting by emungere, protect me from what i want by @alienfuckeronmain, god of the cold, cold wars by highermagic, the abyss smiled back by highermagic, pomegranate seeds by highermagic, absolute zero by highermagic, in the truly gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini, TKO by sidnihoudini, oh dear by lunarwench, each according to its kind by chapparral_crown, a flood in our hearts by nanoochka, let me sinful be by darlingred, uncomplicated by stratumgermanitivum & youaremydesign, good bones by @damnslippyplanet​, like they do in babylon by @damnslippyplanet​, your obedient servant by kareliasweet, past our satellites by shotgunsinlace, only the tender meat by isagel, the shape of me will always be you by missdisoriental, a white-walled room by rodabonor, spleen et idéal by rodabonor, the paper doll series by rodabonor, a common point of interest by rodabonor [i do NOT like a/b/o stuff but if i did... it’s this fic], just thought you should know by earthsickwithoutyou, the sacrificial lamb by princesskay, transcendent suffering by itsbeautiful, not something polite by moistdrippings, leave your message after the tone by onewhositswithturtles, holes in the floor of the mind by feverdreamblood, crossing caina by feverdreamblood, the archipelago series by melusine10, but seas between us braid hae roar’d by kareliasweet

have you watched any of the hannibal films?: yeah all of them except manhunter! i grew up watching silence of the lambs because my mom loved it and i went thru a big edward norton phase as a teen so i’ve seen red dragon like 10 times

have you read the thomas harris books?: no and i’m not going to lmao #fakefan

favorite murder tableau: if we’re talking just hannibal’s- the judge. if we’re talking Murder Bad But Kinda Pretty like in general probably the mushroom people or the totem

favorite blood spill: will imagining hannibal while he beats randall to death or The Gutting of Will Graham

what’re some of your headcanons?: - will is good at shibari (backed up in canon: his fishing knots, the firefly man’s full body hishi karada harness) - hannibal rarely listens to modern, non-classical music but he’s a björk fan and he saw one of her chapel performances during the vespertine era and was Moved - will listens to classic rock (zeppelin, the doors, pink floyd) with some classic country (patsy, merle, johnny) and blues (billie, muddy, bessie) thrown in. he’s also a sucker for early/mid-90s college rock/alternative/grunge - will plays the piano (because of the piano in his living room) and the harmonica (because he’s country white trash); he’s kind of shit tho - hannibal fell for will somewhere between “my thoughts are often not tasty” and “you won’t like me when i’m psychoanalyzed” (love at first sight! at last sight! at ever and ever sight!!!) - will’s circumcised, hannibal isn’t 🤪 - hannibal’s a gemini!!!! adaptable, creative, intelligent, outgoing, impulsive, etc - will’s an aquarius!!!!! analytical, a loner, temperamental, unique, compassionate, etc - will’s mom was jewish go read my fic about it https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774326 - hannibal is an agender man (tbh i think of this as canon, it’s just unstated/undefined) - hannibal can speak russian, spanish, and a teensy bit of portuguese in addition to the other languages we know he speaks (lithuanian, english, french, italian, japanese) - will speaks limited amounts of french; he learned it as a kid in louisiana - ED TW will sometimes has a Difficult relationship with food due to food instability by the way of poverty as a kid and goes through periods where it’s hard to keep himself fed, but hannibal is so good for him in that way because he keeps him from going hungry 😓 (yes this is me projecting but also it makes SENSE) - hannibal typically bottoms but THEY DEFINITELY ARE BOTH VERS and will never stops being surprised by how much he loves catching a dick. every time is like religious experience. okay? okay - they’re also both very kinky and switches but tbh.... will was made to Dom hannibal like that’s the reason he exists he could drag that old bitch around by a leash and hannibal would be in heaven HANNIBAL WOULD CALL HIM SIR - the first time they have sex hannibal comes like immediately but he isn’t embarrassed because he’s hannibal fucking lecter and hannibal lecter doesn’t get embarrassed - i have a hc for their favorite sex positions but i’m not gonna put that here because i don’t want yall calling me crazy any more than you probably already do but if you wanna know just DM me all i do is think about them fucking it’s a curse - okay no more dirty stuff abigail called hannibal “dad” on more than one occasion and it was half-joking but it also felt comfortable to her; she never thought to call will “dad” because he’s a weirdo and never knew her as much as he knew his idea of her - hannibal taught her to play piano at the cliff house - beverly is pansexual!!! - brian and jimmy kissed one time when they were drunk and they NEVER talk about it EVER - chiyoh is straight probably. i know, i know, everyone says she’s a lesbian and if she’s a lesbian to you that’s awesome! she’s a lesbian! but idk i just think she’s SO fucking straight and tbh i mourn bc that’s my wife. she could MAYBE be bicurious... - chiyoh is non-monogamous and doesn’t do serious relationships, she doesn’t like the idea of being tied to one person ever since she left the lecter castle - she helped hannibal and will escape after The Fall; she told hannibal she would continue to watch over him and i think she did, she got them a boat and got them the fuck out of there - MOLLY IS DOING SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT WILL. SHE’S SO GLAD SHE GOT OUT OF THAT WHEN SHE DID. she has a good, long talk with alana and finds out all the shit about him and hannibal that will never told her (and it was a lot), gets drunk and burns all his shit, and then washes her hands of the whole thing; moves to a different state, gets a girlfriend, and never thinks about will again

okay i’m capping it there or i’m never gonna stop!! i’m not tagging anyone cuz i think everyone has done this by now lmao but if you’re a mutual who hasn’t and you want to just do it and say i tagged you!! mwah!!!!

i watched the first episode of canine intervention tonight, here’s some uncensored liveblogging featuring my spicey dog training takes:

“my dog training system is known all over the world" mhmm. lemme google this guy.

by clicking through his in person training site to his online remote training course, i found a whole lot of big red flags: "Establish pack leadership" dogs don't have pack leaders. anyone who wants to make you a leader is not using a good understanding of dog behavior "Time your praise and corrections" the times when i use corrections are when i'm the least on my game. my goal is NEVER to use corrections/positive punishment. why should i? it's concerning that he uses it as a core part of his method. "Exercise and reinforce your leadership as a way of life" more leadership bullshit.

fancy letters are not the end-all-be-all, and there are trainers i seriously respect who have none of them. but they don't talk about leadership and corrections. it's concerning that he talks about his sports team as a kid, where he went to high school, and his celebrity clients, but not his mentors and education in training.

back to the show

why does his facility have enough dogs to keep them in kennels? how does that teach aggressive dogs how to be safe in a home environment?

not all of the dogs in the first shot of a class (~1:38) have two collars on but a lot do. that's not a red flag (i worked sydney in two collars [her flat collar and a martingale, because syd was very gear smart and it was nice to tell her that we were doing heeling now]) but with what i saw on his website? it's quite likely that one of those is the dog's normal flat collar with tags, and the other is a prong, choke chain, or electric collar

also: "I help the dogs that no one else will" is a flat out lie

if you're willing to take on any human aggression cases, generally you’re willing to take on all of them. now, some of these cases may generally lead to a recommendation of euthanasia. but that's in the best interests of the dog and owner

oop class shot where it's clear that they're wearing prongs

here's two points not about this guy specifically: 1) it is hard (impossible?) to do humane, ethical dog training in a 45 minute episode slot. it's not good tv. it's slow as hell. there's no drama. the aggression trainers i know? have never been bitten. many have never been CLOSE to being bitten. no tv value. 2) the positive dog training community is OVERWHELMINGLY white and middle class.

it's also full of racists.

"Nearly a million dogs are euthanized yearly and over 40% of them are pit bulls" i've calculated that first statistic myself, but it's important to put it in context: this is USA specific, and that's down from 3-4 million 20 years ago. the second one, i would love to see his source.

he's right that it's important to understand where aggression comes from

anyway back to those two points, at the same time that it's really, really hard to do compelling TV with ethical dog trainers, it's also really REALLY important that the positive dog training community be working on being anti-racist. and it's really, really important that low income dog owners and people of color are getting good dog training.

alright first case! he's had her 3 months, 3 bites in that time. 10 attempted attacks. she's a young adult bully breed mix who had one front leg amputated after being shot. owner walks her in a muzzle which is a) too small and b) not bite proof.

"I see what we're working with" he says, after approaching a dog in her crate. hazard responds similarly to someone coming in, but he's not a bite risk. that's not a good evaluation.

he is correct about lady macbeth's motivations: this is a dog who's scared as hell and making herself really big and scary so that everyone leaves her alone.

okay he's also right that playing with her around strangers is really, really good for fear aggression

"frenzied just chaotic state" yeah no

reality check for y'all: i am not an aggression specialist and i have seen more freaked out dogs

she was on edge! she was unhappy! but holy shit was she not even remotely close to what dogs are capable of

"she just bit me!" she nipped your cheek, not breaking skin. that's a level 1 or 2 (of 6). that's not NOTHING but it's well within normal for a dog who's being restrained when she wants to be somewhere else.

[note that at no point in the episode was the owner ever given any sort of indication that lady macbeth is not this horribly aggressive Pit Bull TM. nor was there any discussion of a bite scale.]

"The only option we're gonna have is to [board and train] for 3 weeks" "I have no choice but to take her back to my facility back in San Jose and work daily with her" no!!!!!

[15 minute break]

lmao sorry i had to go yell at gf about how much this board and train is not necessary and in the process penny decided to cause Drama again

ANYWAY, the b&t is not necessary because all of those aggressive incidents bar the first could have been avoided if the owner was on the ball. this is not JUST a lady macbeth issue, this is ALSO an owner issue. both of them need to relearn how to handle new people.

as a bonus, lady macbeth needs to learn to trust her owner, which she categorically cannot do in a b&t

"The box is an important training tool to teaching new behaviors. It's also a first step in establishing pack leadership" ok this is new to me

and new is not a good thing here

text: Obedience depends on a dog's trust and respect for their pack leader calculus depends on your trust and respect for your math teacher! if you respect them a lot you will magically be able to do calc!

I WAS HOPING. I WAS TRYING.

i was HOPING that his training for her fear aggression would be based in toy play.

instead he's got a fake arm and he keeps reaching out to poke her, and the owner says "no!" and does a leash pop (leash wrapped around her neck) every time she tries to bite.

"She doesn't know it's not his hand" it smells like plastic what would she THINK it is

also funky that we're 19 minutes into the episode about an aggressive bully breed mix and the trainer's childhood bully breed mix who killed a dog, and like. not a single mention of what these dogs were bred for.

let's go back to "how are you teaching aggressive dogs to live nicely in a home, if they are spending most of the day in a wire kennel"

for shits take, high school doesn't teach you how to handle your emotions! why should obedience class teach your dog the same?

and then like, every time she breaks the down he yells NOPE and leans over her??????

dude you're scaring her into being obedient. while you're talking about how it's important to treat her fear.

text: Fear based aggression can be reduced by desensitizing the dog to strangers you're right! it sure can! THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE

you've got a dog on her side with one hand over her, the other on a skinny check chain on her neck. every time she does anything but lay flat, the leash is popped and you say no. you are flooding this dog and creating learned helplessness.

jo summed it up well with this: he's good at seeing the behavior, he knows what he's looking at, he just can't change it. he only knows one method.

jo and i are now trying to figure out if "dog training but marie kondo not cesar milan" is a viable tv show

jas correctly stops the friend and changes how he approaches the dog, that's a good response

i'm laughing bc after a 3 week board and train which is not going to be less than $4k, he's giving the exact same "how to meet new people" directions that i would give to a similar client--at the start of our time! not at the end!

"I can't imagine imagine a dog having it too much worse than she did, the fact that she took a gunshot, the fact that she had no security for years of her life" alright dude a) think worse, this PALES to abuse cases b) let's not? shittalk? the care that people without reliable housing give to their dogs (and occasional cat!)?? because what they do for their pets is incredible, and it isn't necessarily connected to her opinions on strangers

so yeah still laughing bc like. that "happy ending" would be my first session with a client. that's how you START handling stranger danger. and for this the owner paid thousands.

Sinclair Twins, Jason, the Leatherfaces as dads (all separate), but someone they're about to kill somehow gets away, gets into their home, but takes their little baby and is like "let me live and I'll give you the baby back" or someone thinks the baby has been kidnapped so they try to 'rescue' the baby. I read something similar to this years ago with a different fandom, and its low-key became my favorite thing lately.

Readmore bc it’s a long boi 😂😂

Bo

★ Hoo boy, Bo is gonna go fucking feral. He’s never been so terrified in his life and he hates the vulnerability, so he hides it with excess hostility and rage.

★ But they have his kid, and he can’t just kill them, not without risking his kid. So he panics, anger and fear rising until he can’t take it any more.

★ People rarely escape Bo, so when this particular man slips from his grasp, he’s furious. He charges after him, bellowing threats - until the guy somehow loses him.

★ He wanders the house searching, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s alerted to something wrong when he hears his kid crying, their bedroom door open. Fear strikes him as he charges in, ready to murder the man for daring to go near his child -

★ There’s a knife to his child’s neck. Instantly he freezes, the man’s threats falling on deaf ears. How dare they.

★ He lets this one go, for the sake of his child. No one’s ever gotten away from  Bo Sinclair, but he’s too relieved to care, rushing to hug his kid.

★ Downstairs, Vincent lurking in wait. No one hurts his niece/nephew. The man doesn’t make it out alive after all.

Vincent 

★ He thought he tied them up properly, thought it was fine to leave one person while he worked on another. But somehow she broke through her restraints and slinked off without his notice.

★ Of course he panics. What if she finds a way out? What if she alerts the authorities? Possibilities run through his mind, each one worst than the last.

★ He never expects to see his victim, a young woman, tugging his kid to her chest, ignoring their squeals of protest. What he hell is she doing, touching his kid?

★ Yet when he storms over, the woman isn’t afraid for herself. She clings to his kid, as if fearful they might disappear. “Leave this child alone,” she screams, “why would you hurt a baby?”

★ He’s stunned. Then it clicks; she doesn’t know the child is his. His anger dissipates, but only briefly. Suddenly the woman is running again, still clutching his child. Vincent pursues.

★ Eventually his child squirms from her grasp, desperately fighting her, and the two tumble to the ground. Then the kid runs to him, shouting for their daddy, and Vincent scoops them up.

★ The woman doesn’t get it, of course. But she never has time to think about the weird family - Vincent doesn’t let her live long enough.

Jason

★ People avoid the lake now, so maybe having a kid let Jason get soft. His patrols become shorter, and he stops worrying about people on his turf.

★ Until his son goes missing one day. Jason searches for an hour, further and further from the safety of his cabin. Then he hears it; crying. Relief floods him as he rushes to his son - only to see him being tugged along by a man. 

★ Oh, he’s angry all right. Who’s trying to kidnap his kid? He storms over, knife clenched in a white knuckle grip. The man turns, fear and recognition sparking in his eyes. Everyone knows what lurks in Camp Crystal Lake.

★ But Jason only sees his son. He’s so gentle as he gathers his son in his arms, careful hands brushing through his hair. But the expression he shoots the man through his mask is terrible.

★ Yet he still has enough bravery to ask, “so you kidnap children now too?”

★ Kidnap…? Oh. Of course, no one would imagine the Crystal Lake killer could have a child, let alone know how to care for one. Jason draws up to his full height, gently pushing his son behind him, and raises the machete.

★ No one messes with his family.

Bubba

★ In the chaos, Bubba loses a victim. It’s happened before, no big deal, and Drayton often deals with it. He doesn’t even care about the insults shot his way - he just wants to get this over with.

★ He finds the victim cowering in a barn, bleeding and crying. Bubba reaches for his chainsaw, hands poised to kill - until he sees his daughter emerge from the hay loft. 

★ She loves to play there, he should have considered it!

★ The victim’s eyes dance from Bubba to the girl - and in a flash they have her in their arms, blood smearing across his daughter’s pretty summer dress. She cries out, hands reaching for him, and he snaps.

★“Let me go, and I’ll give her back to you.

★Bubba freezes. They’d really do that? Hurt his child for the chance at freedom? Panic blooms in his chest, the chainsaw falling to his side with a great thud. He’s shaking. His daughter is pleading to be let go. It’s awful.

★ Finally the victim lets her go, and she runs to him. The two embrace, both sobbing and babbling incoherently. The victim takes their chance to run.

★ But they can’t let someone go. So Bubba regretfully lets go, whispering nonsense words of reassurance, and goes after them. 

★ The victim doesn’t last five minutes after that.  

Thomas

★ His son isn’t old enough to be involved in the ‘family business’, but bless him he wants to help. So for once, Thomas lets him tag along. As long as he promises not to get too close.

★ They hunt down a victim together; a scrawny teenager with a busted leg. It doesn’t take long to catch him, and Thomas is so proud of his son for all the help.

★ But Thomas misjudges. He isn’t unconscious, only pretending, and as Thomas lugs him over one shoulder the boy breaks free. In a flash the boy is on his feet, grabbing blindly for anything to use as a weapon. When he comes up with nothing, he grabs Thomas’ son.

★“Help me,” the boy mutters, but his son only shrugs. This pisses him off, and before Thomas can react his son is being dragged backward by the hair. Thomas panics, immediately blaming himself for letting his son tag along.

★ But his son breaks free, snapping the man’s already injured leg with one well placed kick. Then Thomas storms forward, weapon raised as he unleashes all of his fear and rage.

★ They drag the body back together, and this time they make sure he’s dead.

You (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: You by Dodie Clark, but with a twist ;)

Words: 3676

Notes: TW: MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL DRINKING AND ALMOST GETTING HIT. angsty at first, but gets pretty fluffy uwu haha + swearing + lyrics are italicized 

A/N:  this is for @queens-n-roses 2k writing challenge anddd reading all the other entries got me thinking well shit so here i am in all my shittiness ha ha ha anyways this is also my first time doing a song thing so tell me what you guys think! also also this is late bc im on my last weeks of school so sorry but expect more fics during summer!! (march-june for all ur western people) sdfdjks u know what im gonna leave a seperate post for the a/n fic bc yall i have kwento bye love you all <3

☀ tagging: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things

~~~~~~~~~

I told you I was looking for some empathy

Well, you fooled me

You slammed the door of the apartment you and Roger shared. You had just broken up with you boyfriend, Zach, as he was a misogynistic prick. He had insisted that you move out of your apartment with Rog and move in with him.

You had repeatedly told him no, especially since moving was expensive for college student. You had also only been dating for a month, and the whole thing seemed too fast. In response, he called you a ‘whore’ and ‘cheating bitch’, but the thing that took the cake was when he had punched a hole in his wall, which missed you by a mere inch.

You told him that you never wanted to see his face again, and got out of there, leaving him in a shocked state.You ran straight home, never looking back, tears running down your face. You couldn’t believe you didn’t see his nasty attitude before, but you were glad you got out of it before anything escalated.

Roger was sitting on the couch reading a car magazine, when the sharp noise caused his to dart up seeing you in disarray. You marched right over to your room and closed the door, leaving Rog completely clueless to whatever had happened. He followed you quietly, wanting to comfort you, but the door was locked shut.

He put his ear against the door, trying to make out anything from your sobs, but all he could hear was your crying. He’d seen you cry before, but not to the point that didn't even talk to him. It concerned him a lot, but instead of getting the spare key, he decided to give you some space for now. He told himself he’d make it up in the morning.

You were glad you had stashed a bottle of vodka in the dark corners of your cabinet. You were a shaky mess while the bottle sat in your hand. You placed the bottle between your lips, feeling the taste of alcohol rush into your mouth. It left a burning sensation as it made its way down to your stomach.

You didn’t know what you were feeling right now, but it definitely helped you take your mind off what had just happened.

You fell asleep on the floor with your back against your bed. Your mind wandered between fear, anger and sadness during your last moments of consciousness.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache. The soft pillow on underneath your head, made you feel the slightest bit better. Wait. You realised you were up on your bed, tucked in your comfy duvy. The light peered through your windows making your head throb at the brightness.

You looked away to darker parts of your room, seeing some pain relievers and a glass of water sitting on your night stand which only perpetuated your confusion. Nonetheless, you took them both, making you feel just a bit better. You were about to get up when your door swung open, hitting the wall.

“Whoops I’m sorry.”

You saw Roger holding a tray of pancakes. The stack of pancakes was adorned by powdered sugar and a trickling waterfall of maple syrup. It was such a heavenly sight, you had to restrain yourself from lunging at the sight of it. You couldn’t believe that Roger had made it for you. You couldn't believe Roger was responsible for it. He sat on your side of the bed placing the pancakes down.

When he had gotten a good look at you, he saw how distraught you were. You eyes were sore and puffy; Your hair was disheveled mess, sticking out in all directions. It was a good thing he left the pain relievers for you.

“What’s the occasion?” You practically drooling over the pancakes as Roger set them down.

“You seemed sad last night, so I head to the local diner and got some takeaway pancakes.”

“I knew you couldn’t have made them! and if you did, i guess that i’d have a big mess to clean.”

You both laughed. He’d been your best friend for five years now, and you both knew each other like the back of your hand. He handed you a fork as you wasted no time taking a bite out of them. It was a divine breakfast to say the least. You were devouring every piece as if it was your first meal in a hundred years. Roger could only sit back and watch, amused by how much happiness these pancakes. Little did he know it wasn’t necessarily the pancakes that made you happy.

“So were the pain relievers from you as well?” You asked, finishing up the last bit of pancakes. You laid your back against the headboard, the paper plate and plastic fork in hand.

“Yup, it scared me how much vodka you had drunk.” There was pity in his eyes as he said it. He saw how much was left in the bottle you held while you slept and it petrified him. For a second he thought you had died, but his worries were quickly washed away when he felt a pulse.

“Well yeah, you’ll have to remind me in the coming days.”

You trailed off, remembering your sorrow and pain from last night. You set down the now empty plate and fork onto the trail and took the glass of water from the night stand. Roger frowned seeing you still weren’t over what ever had happen. He thought that he might get punched for asking the question, but it was inevitable.

“So, what happened?”

You continued drinking your water, not really wanting to answer. You wanted to put it off for as long as possible, but Rog was persistent.

“You know you’ll have to talk about it sooner or later. It’s not healthy to keep it in, especially since you almost killed yourself over it.”

You stopped drinking and took a deep sigh. He was right.

“Zach and I broke up. He-” Your breath hitched and tears threatened to flood down your cheek.

Roger reddened, at the mention of Zach’s name. He always thought he condescending asshole. He’d always try to play nice around him just so you could be happy, but there were times when he couldn’t. He’d tell you that he was a dick or a pisshat. You’d always tell him to give Zach a chance, but deep down inside you agreed with every little statement.

“What’d the bloody wanker do?”

The anger in his eyes was terrifying. They were like lightning bolts that were about to strike at any moment, any where.

“He almost punched me, but he missed. He left a hole in the wall instead.”

You spoke softly as a tear rolled down your left cheek. You would have shrugged it off convincing Roger it wasn’t a big deal, but you couldn’t lie. You were horror-struck.

Meanwhile, Roger would have gone into complete hysterics if he wasn’t sitting on your bed at the moment. He tried to compose himself, but he couldn’t. He was ready to throw tables. He was ready to smack the Zach into the bloody ocean. He tensed up everywhere and you noticed his arms’ veins were completely evident. His gaze went dark as he angrily grit through his teeth.

“I’ll kill him.”

You put a hand on his arm, trying your best to get him to calm down. You stroke his arm gently, as he directed his attention back to you.

“Rog, I’m fine, no scars, no cuts. I’m just scared he might come looking for me.”

“I promise I won’t let that happen. I’ll always be there for you.”

He gave you a badly needed hugged, as he realised you needed to be comforted first and foremost. Despite the tight hug, it felt kind and tender. You sank into the hug as it was the first time someone had touched you with such affection and care. You truly felt loved.

Just a touch and a thought and I was gone

It had been days since the incident and you were relatively fine. You hadn’t seen Zach anywhere and you were starting to get back on your feet. Roger had really helped you get back to your normal self. He’d always speak out about his desire to “beat the shit and bullocks out the bloody cunt”, but you’d assure him, you didn’t even want to hear about him anymore.

Tonight was your first night out since, and Roger was accompanying you to be your wingman of sorts. He had thoroughly convinced you to get out and mingle and you had finally gave in. He had also invited Fred, Brian and John, but they all had turned it down last minute; something about them all going to the same meeting. It was a very bullshit excuse, but you and Rog didn’t really mind. It was high time the two of you had some best friend bonding anyways.

You were looking through dresses in your wardrobe, when you had finally found the perfect one. You went with a sparkly tube that ended mid-thigh; You thought it would do nicely with the white pair of boots you had bought the other day. You looked in the mirror, checking yourself out for a moment before you heard a voice from your bedroom doorway.

“I’d check myself out too if I were you.”

You looked back to see the blonde drummer himself, leaning against the door frame. A blush spread throughout your cheeks at his flirtatious comment; his flirtatious comments were quite regular, but you couldn’t help but blush.

Ever since he comforted you, you couldn’t help but feel more amorous around him. You’ve tried to brush it off, but your little crush on your best friend was growing stronger and stronger by the minute.

“Uh yeah well we should get going, before it gets too crowded.”

You hid your face behind your purse as you walked past him. He looked at you in confusion, wondering why you’d become so embarrassed all of a sudden, because you usually had some witty remark ready, but he followed nonetheless.

The walk to bar was relatively normal; you both talked about your day at university. You couldn’t help but stare intently into his eyes during conversation. You mentally scolded yourself for looking at him so love-struck.

By the time you had gotten to the bar, the chaotic atmosphere was in full swing. The pungent aroma of alcohol filled the air as you both stepped in. You both looked at each other knowing exactly what to do. He headed to bar to get some drinks while you searched for a booth. You pushed past the crowd to find a small booth by the corner of the bar. You slipped and looked around, really taking in the scene.

You toyed with the hem of the dress you wore, not really knowing what else to do. You came here feeling pretty confident, but now you really just wished you were home alone with Rog, playing scrabble. You came to impress the masses, but you were having second thoughts. You realised that the only reason you agreed to this whole night out thing was to impress Roger.

It seemed to always be about him.

You pressed your head against the table, realising just how strong you’d fallen in love with him. It was pathetic to say the least. You had fallen in love with a rising drummer who is known to steal the hearts of many. How could one compete?

You had barely spent five minutes in the pub, but you knew it wasn’t going to be a fun night. You decided you were gonna tell him this whole thing was too much for you and you were going to head home. You stood up from your booth and went to the bar.

When you got there, you found several girls fawning over him; You felt that he was the Queen Helen at times, just like Helen, his handsome face could start bloody wars.

You hoped that maybe he would accompany you home and you could hang out, but it was obvious he going home with someone who definitely wasn’t you. You squeezed through the crowd of females, before Roger noticed you and called out your name.

“(Y/N)! Sorry, I got a bit carried away.” He gestured towards the girls who cornered him into the tight spot.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna head home, I remembered as assignment or two due tomorrow.” You lied, not really looking at him.

He was too drunk to hear you over the loud music, but he nodded thinking you said that you were going to head home with someone. There was a ping of jealousy that shot through his veins, but he ignored it. This was your night, he wasn’t going to stop you from having any fun.

You were a bit scared to leave all alone, but you quickly pushed those those thoughts away as you walked towards the exit. As you left the pub, rain started pouring. You rolled your eyes, sarcastically thanking the world for such great luck. You ran home as fast as you could but by the time you got home, you were soaking wet and too tired to do anything. You just changed into dry clothes and fell asleep on the couch whilst watching an episode of coronation street.

Why do all the red flags

Just look like so much fun, oh

I have a habit of searching for the damage

To share my love

You were out with your friend, Maria, having a chatting over some tea at cafe near the University. You were talking about random things that came to mind, until she brought up your love life.

“So, I heard you finally broke up with that awful douchebag, Zach.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping it was very much true. You just nodded in response, not really wanting to talk about it.

“Well, have you been out since?”

“Nope, but I did go to the pub with Rog the other night. I left early, but he went home with someone else.”

Your eyes lit up when you Roger’s name, but it quickly faded when you remembered he didn’t go home with you. Someone else ended up in his arms that night. Maria noticed this very clearly and did not hesitate to bring it up.

“Do you fancy Roger?”

She asked simply, taking a sip of her tea. You blushed, not really knowing how to respond. You hadn’t told anyone about your sudden intrigue towards him, so your mind was trying to find a response, before your friend answered the question herself.

“Oh my god, you have! You’re absolutely flustered.” She pointed at your cheeks that were as red as ever. She laughed at how embarrassed you were over it.

“Can you shut up! Nobody knows.” You scolded her, swatting her hands away. You drank some of your tea, to hide the increasing temperature of your cheeks as Maria calmed down.

“As much as I love your little friendship, that’s a really bad idea.” She said seriously. You put your cup down, listening to what she had to say.

“I mean no offense, but Roger’s well Roger. Literally everyone knows him as hot drummer you have to take home at the end of the night. You’re just you. You probably just fell in love with him, because you had no one else to love.

You were a tad offended by it. You could possibly in a relationship with infamous drummer, Roger Taylor, right? You thought she was probably just jealous that you had been friends since high school, while she was just another girl in the long list of girls that wanted to talk to him. You were also very sure loved him. You didn’t think of him as just some rebound that you’d stick with until you found someone better. You thought that he was that someone better.

You tried your best to assure yourself that you weren’t a pathetic loser who had fallen in love Roger throughout the rest of your meeting with Maria.

In the end, you didn’t really succeed and you were starting to hope your infatuation was just passing.

People will tell me that I messed up

And it wasn't love

And I'm secretly hoping they are right

“Hey (Y/N), I’m sorry I let you leave alone.”

Roger suddenly blurted from across the couch. You raised your head up from the book you were reading. You wondered why he had brought it up in this particular moment. You were both across each other reading books when he had brought up the subject.

This was the first time in a while that you were together, silent. You have been refrained from seeing him too much, because you were trying to let your crush on him die in peace, but it just wouldn’t. You decided today you’d have a lazy saturday and lounge around. It just so happened that you both decided to read a book in the living room right after breakfast.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not really sure if he was talking about that night.

“I mean the first night you went out in a while. I thought you said you were going home with someone else.” He said empathetically completely putting down the book he was reading to join you on your side of the couch.

“It’s fine really, don’t worry about it.” You said going back to your book, continuing where you left off. That was when he stole the book from your grasp and tossed it aside, allowing you to focus on him.

“Ro-”

“It’s not okay. You were still recovering from asshat, Zach. What if he had found you that night?”

You just realised that possibility; you hadn’t noticed it with everything running through your mind that night, but you thought it was fine now. You were fire. Everything was fine.

“It’s fine I ran home, it was raining.” You said, looking away. Roger frowned seeing you weren’t going to budge. He scooted back the slightest bit and gave you some room to breathe.

“I just care about you a lot.” His whisper almost was almost inaudible, but you not absolutely.

“I really am fine. I’d tell you if I felt otherwise, promise.” You said looking back at him, meaning what you said. He sighed, before speaking up again.

“Then why have you been avoiding me the whole week? It’s like I barely even see you anymore and we live in the same apartment!” He said throwing his arms up. You bit your lip, wondering if this was the best time.

“Rog, I don’t think it-”

“Please.”

He looked at you pleadingly. He did not like not seeing you, he hated it. He missed the way you lit up a room with your smile. It was like his sun had been gone the whole week. He was starting to worry if he had done something wrong and that was when he remembered the night you both went out.

When he came back home in the morning, he saw you still sleeping on the couch. He realised he had misheard and you had actually gone home by yourself. He had been filled with guilt since then.

“I think I love you, okay?” You admitted quietly as you looked down, fiddling with your fingers.

“You think?” He asks. He was obviously ecstatic at the idea that you loved him, but wondered why you thought so. He wondered why you weren’t sure.

“It’s just that you’re you! I don’t know why I just fell for you all of sudden. I started noticing all these little things about you and they just made me fall deeper and deeper. I thought it would just go away, but it hasn’t. You keep me up at night, Roger Taylor.” You finished, taking a deep breathe.

“What if I told you I loved you too?”

“Well then I’d guess I’d have no choice, but to love you back. I mean this whole wanting to kiss you and everything isn’t going away.” You joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Well, I’ve loved you for quite some time, if you must know.”

“Yeah that’s funny.”

You laughed, while Roger did not really know how to respond. You thought he joking back, but he was dead serious. You realised this and stopped laughing abruptly.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, you’re really just oblivious aren’t you?”

You blinked once and pinched yourself to ensure this wasn’t a dream. You were surprised to find out it in fact was not. Your (E/C) eyes went wide as you looked at his blue ones, which were waiting for any kind of response.

“(Y/N)?” He asked waving a hand in front of you. You snapped out of your trance and tried to speak, but it all just came out as jumbled words.

“Me? Like? You? Too? Some Time?!” You mumbled as Roger laughed at the priceless look on your face. You seemed to be absolutely surprised to this revelation. Two people who have been best friends and living with each other for over 5 years fall in love? You thought it didn’t add up.

“I could just save you some and kiss you if you’d like?” He said as your stomach did backflips at the mere thought of it. You nodded as he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You hummed happily at how sweet it was. Funnily enough, the kiss was what brought you back to reality; you started to kiss back. Your lips were both in sync with one another as if they had been aching to meet each other for such a long time. When you both pulled away, all you could think is about kissing him again.

“Yes I do love you.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

Oh, I really hope I don't love you

~~~~~~~~~

what i read in march

several antigones & some other stuff

call me zebra, azareen van der vliet oloomi

oh boy. i really wanted to like this one, but uh. nah. so this book is about zebra, a young iranian-american from a lineage of ‘autodidacts, anarchists and atheists’, still traumatised by her childhood experience as a refugee (incl. her mother’s death on route). when her father dies years later, zebra decides to retrace the route of her exile thru barcelona, turkey, and back to iran. this sounds great! the beginning is good! but zebra is a quixotic figure (don quixote is unsubtly flagged as THE intertext several times), delusional about her own importance, obsessed with some kind of great literary mission and obnoxious & condescending & egotistic as all fuck (she looks down on students but treats her realisation that like, intertextuality is a thing, as this grand revelation when like..... we been knew since Lit. Theory 101) - and this is intentional & part of the quixotic thing & in general i approve of abrasive & bristly & difficult female characters BUT i expected there to be a gradual process of realisation where she sees that a) maybe her entirely male lineage of geniuses ain’t all that, c) her mission is uh.... incomprehensible. instead, once she reaches spain, she gets bogged down in endless pretentious bullshit and a #toxic relationship that takes up way too much space. knowing that all of that is likely intentional doesn’t.... make it good. also the writing is pretty overwrought for the most part & not even your narrator’s voice being Like That excuses plain bad writing, like the  absurd overuse of ‘intone’ and ‘pose’ as dialogue tags. i see the potential and i see the point & i liked some of it but uh. not good. 2/5, regretfully, generously

in the distance, hernan diaz

i don’t really go for westerns or man vs wilderness stories but damn i’m impressed. despite the violence & deprivation and sheer amount of gross shit, this story of a swedish immigrant getting lost in the american west for decades remains at its core so human, so tender, so sad (honestly this book is SO SAD, yet sometimes oddly hopeful), so evocative of isolation, loneliness, and the desire for human connection. 4/5

notes on a thesis, tiphaine rivière (tr. from french)

god, if i ever considered doing a phd i sure don’t anymore. this is a short graphic novel about a young woman’s descent into academic hell while writing her dissertation about labyrinths in kafka. it’s funny, the art is expressive and fanciful, and it is incredibly relateable if you’ve ever tried to actually write your brilliant, glorious, intricately constructed argument down, battled uni administration or had a panic attack over how to phrase a harmless email to a prof. Academia: Not Even Once. 3.5/5

red mars, kim stanley robinson

this is a very long hard sci-fi novel about mars colonisation & terraforming, discussing the ethics of terraforming, the potentials of a truly ‘martian’ culture, and how capitalism will inevitably fuck everything up, including outer space. all of this is up my alley and i did really like the first half (early colonisation efforts), but the 2nd half (beginning of terraforming, lots of politicking) was a slog - i liked reading about how terraforming was going, but the rest was just bloated, scattered and confusing. also there’s a tedious love triangle the whole time. 2/5

dragon keeper (rain wild chronicles #1), robin hobb

i love robin hobb she really can write a whole 500+ page book of set-up, characterisation and politicking and make it WORK. anyway, this has disabled dragons, a quest for mystical city, lots of rain wilds weirdness, a dragon scholar in an unhappy marriage, liveships, a sweet dummy romance, and uh... a lil penpalship between two messenger bird keepers? not much happens but it’s so NICE & so much is going to happen. also althea & brashen & malta turned up & i screamed. 3.5/5

season of migration to the north, tayeb salih (tr. from arabic)

this is a seminal work of post-colonial arabic literature, a haunting tale of the impact of colonialisation, especially of cultural hegemony in the education system, the disturbing dynamics of orientalism and sex, and village life in a modernising post-colonial sudan. it’s important, it’s well-written, it’ll make you think, but fair warning, there is a lot of violence against women - it has a point but still uh... wow. 3.5/5

dune, frank herbert

SOMETIMES.... BOOKS THAT ARE CONSIDERED MASTERWORKS OF THEIR GENRE.... ARE WORSE. so much worse. the writing in this is atrocious (”his voice was charged with unspeakable adjectives”), herbert somehow manages to make court intrigue and plotting UNBELIEVABLY DULL and sure, it was the 60s, but i’m p sure people knew imperialism was bad in the 60s! the main character, the eugenically-engineered chosen one or whatever, literally spends years among the oppressed & resisting natives of a planet ruled by a space!empire and at the end he’s like ‘i own this planet bc imperialism is Good Actually’. emotionally neglecting/abusing your wife, who you (!!!) decided (!!!) to marry for political reasons bc you’d rather marry your gf is also Good Actually (cosigned by the protag’s mother....) the worldbuilding is influential for the genre, sure w/e, but mainly notable for there just.... being a lot of it, the whole mythology-science makes No Goddamn Sense, all around this is just Bad. Bad. 0.5/5 i hope the Really Big Worms eat everyone 

dragon haven (rain wild chronicles #2), robin hobb

this healed my soul after toxic exposure to dune. anyway w/o spoilers: everyone is very much In Their Feelings (including me) and there’s a lot of Romance and Internal Conflict and Feelings Drama and Complicated Relationships and Group Dynamics and also dragons, which are really like very big, very haughty cats who can speak, and a flood and a living river barge with a mind of his own (love u tarman!). it’s still slow and languid but so so good. also: several people in this have to be told that People Are Gay, Steven, including Sedric, who is himself Gay People. 4/5

an unkindness of ghosts, solomon rivers

super interesting scifi story set on a generation ship with a radically stratified society in which the predominantly black lowerdeckers are oppressed and exploited by the predominantly white upperdeckers, mixed in with a lot of Gender Stuff (the lowerdeckers seem to have a much less stable and binary gender system than the upperdeckers) and neuroatypicality. it’s conceptually rich and full of potential, but just doesn’t quite stick the landing when it comes to the plot. 3/5

sanatorium under the sign of the hourglass, bruno schulz (tr. from polish)

more dreamy surreal short stories (ish?). i didn’t like this collection quite as much as the amazing street of crocodiles, but they are still really good, even tho you never quite know what is going on. featuring flights of birds, people turning into insects, thoughts about seasons and time, fireman pupae stuck in the chimney, and the continuing weird fixation on adela the maid. 3.5/5

angela merkel ist hitlers tocher, christian alt & christian schiffer

a fun & accessible guide to conspiracy theories, focusing on the current situation in germany and the current boom in conspiracy theories, but also including some historical notes. i wish it had been a bit less fun & flippant and more in-depth and detailed bc it really is quite shallow at points, but oh well. also yes the title does indeed translate to ‘angela merkel is hitler’s daughter’ so. yes. 2.5/5

the midwich cuckoos, john wyndham

fun lil scifi story in which almost all women in sleepy village midwich are suddenly pregnant, all at the same time. the resulting children, predictably, are strange, creepy, and possibly a threat to humanity. i get that it was written in the 50s but it is strange to read a book where almost all women, and only women, are affected by A Thing, but all the main characters are men & no one tells the women ‘hey we think it’s xenogenesis’ -  like realistically 80% of women affected went to the Neighbourhood Lady Who Takes Care of These Things like ‘hello, one (1) abortion please’ and the plot just ended there. i still liked it tho! 3/5

antigone project

antigone, the original bitch, by sophocles (tr. by fagles)

god antigone really is That Bitch. that’s all i have to say. 4.5/5

antigone, That Bitch but in french, jean anouilh

the Nazi-occupied france antigone. loved the meta commentary on what tragedy is and how antigone has to step into the Role of Antigone, which will kill her “but there’s nothing she can do. her name is antigone and she will have to play her part through to the end”. i didn’t really like (esp. given the ~historical context) the choice to make creon much more sympathetic, trying to save antigone’s life from the beginning. hmm. 3.5/5

antigonick, anne carson

look, antigone really is That Bitch and you know what? so is anne carson. best thing i’ve read so far this year, don’t ask me about it or i’ll yell the task of the translator of antigone at you. 5/5

home fire, kamila shamsie

honestly i really wanted to like this bc politically it’s on point and an anti-islamophobia antigone sounds amazing, but it just doesn’t succeed as a book/adaption. it spends way too much time in build-up/backstory (the play’s plot only starts in the second half of the book!), waaayyy to much time on the weirdly fetishistic antigone/haimon romance, and even the most interesting characters (ismene & creon) don’t fully work out. sad. 2/5

currently reading: the magic mountain by thomas mann, but i should be done in a week or so! also: the paper menagerie by ken liu, a collection of sff short stories

Consider: Mina is a genuinely happy and positive person, but everyone has bad days (especially people who have been thru trauma, like seeing your loved ones regularly beaten to a bloody pulp). The thing is that Mina just. Refuses to show that trauma has actually been effecting her. She starts suppressing negative reactions to situations bc she wants to "stay strong." Beginning of the year? She cried when they got rescued from USJ. End of the year? "Lmao guess we survived another one! Ha! Ha! :)"

oh my god like millennial humor?? if yeah then lmao mina please

if not ahhh Mina baby you have feelings too that you gotta tend to!\

Alright- All (or at least all the angst headcanons I received) are answered below the cut! Please be careful, there are some, well angsty things in there!

TW: Eating Disorder, Gore/ Graphic Depictions, Homophobia, Depression, Suicidal Tendencies/ Self harm mention, Death, Possible spoilers to those not caught up with the BNHA manga- Please ask to tag if I missed any!

(looking at all these warnings made me realize omfg YALL DID NOT HOLD BACK IM CRYING ASK AND THOU SHALT RECEIVETH I SUPPOSE)

a-single-eyelash asked:

Denki accidentally hurt someone as a kid, say a sibling or good friend, with his quirk. It made him hate his work, until he saw a hero with a similar work to his. This is what made him think that not only is his quirk cool, but also that he can become a hero. Well until, he hurt Sero. His boyfriend, got electrocuted by him on the battlefield. (Sorry this is an idea I’ve had for a fic)

O H

BRUH THAT HIT ME LIKE A TRAIN COMING OUT FROM BEHIND THE BUSHES I THOUHGT THERE WAS GONNA BE A HAPPY ENDING THIS IS STILL GOOD THO 

anonymous asked:

Bakugou is still sad, Sero is suicidal (Read to may fics about it man), Kami is legitimately afraid he’ll disappoint his parents, Tsu feels to normal, Kiri feeeeeelsss way to useless, and idk maybe Aoyama feels ignored. My own angsty headcanons.

Ah, yeah I can see how those can play into those characters!

anonymous asked:

Sero’s fight or flight response with a villains ice-like quirk (if your for that headcanon) OR Sero overwhelming his quirk trying to rescue a goddamn building of people

OH YA I AM FOR THAT

Also NO STOP HAVE I GOT SOMETHING IN STORE ABOUT COLLAPSING BUILIDINGS

anonymous asked:

Ashido + Bakugou bond over their quirks being destructive and not really knowing how to use them to actually *help* people

oh wow, I’ve never actually seen it that way.

But how about this: while they vent to each other about how their quirks can’t help people, the other is like, full on giving them descriptions of how their quirks actually CAN but they just never realized and they’re opening each other’s eyes while having their own insecurities knocked down

anonymous asked:

Omg your angst au is so angsty it’s beautiful

AH thank you haha!

anonymous asked:

Angsty headcannon boi-  Sero was bullied in middle school for having wonky teeth and actually had braces. Which is why he has such a pearly white smile now.  Sero was the last in his class to get his quirk and when he did he was laughed at because it was a ‘useless quirk’

n O ANON IM SOB

IM CRYING LEAVE HIM ALONE ILL SQUARE UP WITH THOSE BULLIES

anonymous asked:

Angst head cannon.  Sero flinches whenever kirishima hardens.  Sero’s parents are majorly homophobic and are actually quite strict. So whenever sero isn’t with bakusquad he tries to revise but it doesn’t work and he’s scared to ask for help.

Aw, man that’s heart wrenching to have parents so unsupportive- I feel it :( He’s just in a constant worry state whenever they’re around

anonymous asked:

If you’re still accepting the angst hcs… i think kaminari gets like really overcharged whenever there’s a storm and since they moved to the dorms there’s nowhere for him to release all the excess energy. So he just kinda hides away in his room in pain.

Aw, that’s terrible!

I dunno.. I feel like that one day when someone finds out during a storm, they’ll like, ask the teachers about “where someone could discharge a lot of energy askingforafriend” and they immediately know who they’re talking about and they’ll ask Powerloader and Mei and others in their department to build something for him to discharge all the excess AND be able to utilize it somehow :0 just a thought!

anonymous asked:

My headcannons: Sero is anorexic Bakugou has PTSD Kaminari has depression Kirishima had self-esteem issues Ashido is perfect (canon)

Oh that last part- she is, she is *clap**clap*

Though.. I will say that just because the others are haunted by those- it doesn’t make them less perfect. It’s their struggles that they learn to cope with and grow from, and it makes them, well, them. Not a definition of perfect can define that :’)

(sorry just speaking from my thoughts cause these hit close to home ahhh)

anonymous asked:

Lmao i sent a lot sorry if their not the best but hopefully some heart strings will be pulled

NONSENSE ANON ALL MY HEART STRINGS WERE PLUCKED BY ALL THESE AND NOW ITS YALLS TURN

transcandydemon asked:

Todocanon; todoroki has constant nightmares of the boiling water incident and of his father hurting him or his mom which causes him to not get as much sleep ie his calm attitude and how he’s not quick to get into conversations because of exhaustion

oh ya, such a traumatic past is def something that could still be haunting him in his dreams :’( but when the others notice, they’ll make sure to check up on him and try to find ways to help reduce nightmares or at least comfort him whenever they’re in his dreams

anonymous asked:

Deku head canon : deku is super jealous of kirishimas and bakugoa relationship since hes been trying to get close to kacchan for years and kirishima managed to do it within days

D’: He probably would feel that- jealousy’s very strong! But ah, in my personal opinion, i think he’d feel that, but after time learns that maybe it was best that he stopped dwelling on it and moves on, and learns to accept and be happy that he and Bakugou could at least be acquaintances that could eventually work well :’)

anonymous asked:

Denki headcanon: where he wants to be as close to bakugo as kirishima is and he tries so damn hard but takes bakugos insults to heart and he really does get torn up and upset about it(ex: the sports festival scene )

Oh wait which scene? Dunce face or?? :0 but yeah, I feel like he’d take it to heart at times. (but my bakukami heart tells me to say that when Baku realizes he gives him a good ass pep talk and beings hold back on his insults, or reassures Denki)

anonymous asked:

Bakugou could have PTSD and nightmares

Oh same headcanon! :’D Ah, but poor Bakugou. I’m sure the others would take it into mind and be aware of it and help him subtly so as to not provoke him, :’(

violetsare-tblue asked:

Bakugo: because of his inferiority complex, feels like he needs to prove himself over and over or he’ll be just the victim again  Iida: his left arm is completely numb. He isn’t paralyzed and he can move it. He just can’t feel anything in his hand or arm. Makes holding hands with someone feel empty and useless  Sero: he is so scared of being worthless as a hero and a person. He doesn’t want to be left behind by his classmates so he overworks himself and comes to school with random bruises

Oh mmhmm, I definitely see the Bakugou one! Especially after what he said during his fight with Deku, it def shows :(

Aw, Iida probably still looks back at his actions back in the Stain arc and regrets the errors of his ways. Luckily, I’m sure he’ll find someone who helps him through it and reminds him that mistakes don’t define him :’)

:’( Serooo MAKING ME CRY

casua-aria asked:

I have this Sero headcanon where he was the disposable (like how when tape dispensers run out and become disposable) friend in groups throughout his childhood, but now that he goes to UA, he has true caring friends that would never do that to him.

D: !!

That’s so sad- he must have thought his quirk was just life taunting him for being “disposable” hence the tape quirk :( but heck yeah, once he meets the students of UA he definitely begins to see that he wasn’t the problem in the past, but rather those that he was “friends” with!

anonymous asked:

Sero remembering very clearly all the pain that happened when his arm got cut off, maybe being a little scared of Kirishima for a few days after he first wakes up? Idk

OH YEAH THAT ONE HURTS

Like maybe.. once he’s able to respond again, he flinches and has an anxiety attack when he sees Kirishima because the sight of him just sends a flood of the memory to play in his head OOF

anonymous asked:

A personal favorite that nobody’s really thought of: a villain cuts off one finger from each of Ochako’s hands so she can’t use her quirk

OH MAN THATS BRUTAL OMG

That’s so dark!! I feel like a villain would do that should they get a hold of her and, mm maybe wanna rile up someone close to her to lure them in

meptoonzart asked:

Kirishima traitor

b R U H ID CRY MY EYES OUT IF HORI MADE HIM THE TRAITOR

                                                                                                                             Anonymous said:                                                                 

I have a lot of angsty headcanons about Kaminari specifically so I’ll just spam you with those. He attracts electricity, so he often gets struck by lightning and has almost died from it twice. Kaminari knows people think he’s the traitor and it eats him up inside every day. He’s been ‘propositioned’ by quite a few creeps because he’s pretty and his quirk is, well, what it is. He has nightmares a lot and it causes power outages, he’s terrified his classmates will hate him for it.(1/?(Idk2maybe)            

Sero got into a fight with someone after the sports festival, because how the hell did he make it into UA’S hero course, and Kaminari happens to be with him and he actively threatens the dude who started the fight with his quirk. No one bullies his friends. His overuse of his quirk is slowly killing him, he hasn’t told anyone that it’s destroying his brain. Bakugo reminds him of living in an abusive household but he doesn’t know how to say it so he laughs it off.(2/?(Okaymaybe4wearegettingthere)             

Kirishima and Sero are the first to find out about both the frying brain and the abusive household, and Sero asks Kaminari if he wants to go try something. Kaminari says sure and Sero reserves a training ground for them, and Sero swings around with Kaminari and he hopes it works for Kami the same way it does for him. Sero is smiling because he doesn’t know what else to do, but swinging through the air helps him feel better and free. It helps. But there’s always, always the anxiety (¾)  

the anxiety of ‘Maybe today is the day I fall’, but he doesn’t realize that Kaminari is helping him stay grounded. He won’t fall. Not when he gets to see Kaminari fuller of life than he’s ever been. They land on one of the buildings in ground Beta, and laugh like idiots as it starts to rain. Kaminari’s dying, Sero is a mess, and they just sit there for hours, past the end of their reservation, talking through their anxieties. Kaminari is scared to die. Sero is scared to lose him. (Okay1more4/5)        

Sero promises Kaminari he’ll be there, he’ll do everything he can to help keep him alive as long as possible, and he asks Kaminari how long he has from his last estimate. Kaminari laughs, starting to cry. Six years. Sero tells the Bakusquad, and they promise him that they’ll be there when the time comes. Not villains or Dadzawa could stop them, and finally it does. For only being a hero for three years, he’s made history for kids who have terminal illnesses (ranoutofspacedammit)      

 And the drawbacks of quirks come more into light. Kaminari may not be a great student or hero, but he brought hope to a lot of people, and everyone will miss him. They can’t hear thunder crack without thinking of him, can’t see the golden sunrise without thinking of his smile. Can’t even bear to look at the classic lit section in a bookstore. He saved people and raised awareness, but he wrecked their hearts as well. (Somehow this turned into a near-fic I’m so sorry Hope you’re doing well(Done))       

ANON OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS BASICALLY FIC IM CRYING THERES SO MUCH I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START CRYING   

iamnootthedabmast-r said:                                                                     

Heard you want some angsty headcannons- so Kaminari tends to stay up due to his quirk and he likes to stay in the dormitory lobby, so he just sits on the couch on his phone or just sits there in the dark- but this leads to him finding some secretive angsty stuff about other people in the dormitory for ex; Bakugou comes downstairs and just starts cooking cause he has terrible night terrors and Kaminari just quietly witnesses as Bakugou cries silently while he eats. (Part 1)    

(Part 2) the next morning Kaminari kind of wants to try ask or comfort him but feels rude and awkward so he also kind of struggles with the knowledge of knowing that everyone in his class is a little to a lot of broken.  So yeah, sorry if it’s a little confusing- in awkward when it comes to writing what I want to write…

DUUDE THIS IS SUCH A SAD CONCEPT IF YOU WRITE IT I WILL LEGITERALLY PERISH ON SPOT

                                                                                                                             Anonymous said:                                                   

May we… suggest directly… angsty oneshots? Please feel free to ignore this if you preferred hcs

 (lmao sorry, im not caught up with the manga or anime to know what the first part is referrring to :’D) but ah yeah I’ve seen that headcanon, not too sure how to feel, but it’s out there!                   

i don’t want to love you| steve rogers

So guys, this is my first time writing for Steve. He and I still have.. problems with one another because of what he did in Civil War. But because the anon asked so nicely.. and it’s a Post IW fic.. I couldn’t pass this up. Enjoy!

There should be a couple of requests coming out over the next two days! Here’s what you can expect.

= PART THREE OF THE SENSES MINI SERIES FOR TONY STARK: SIGHT 

= DOCTOR WHO ONESHOT

= Something for Owen Hunt bc I just heard Greys Anatomy did him dirty and got Teddy pregnant.. what the crap. -_-

** And an annoucement about a 2K challenge, because I am FOUR away from 2K! Thank you all SO MUCH!

Prompt:  Could you do Infinity Wars Steve Rogers imagine where the reader is Tony's sister and when Steve and co. come to the Avengers compound after saving Vision, it is the first time they've seen each other since when they broke up in Civil War since she stood with Tony and they talk?

Fair warning: This is probably going to be two parts. I am planning to have a summer tag list, if any of you are interested. Please let me know!

Here. After all this time.. He’s finally come home. 

But you know as well as the other Avengers who have made their grand arrival to the New York Compound that this building has not been home to the family they had successfully destroyed for quite some time. 

He’s less then a foot in front of you. You can feel his piercing gaze intently focused on you, completely blocking out the conversations happening between the reunited Avengers as you do everything in your power to not look at the man before you. The anxiety building up in you is slowly eating away at your willpower, your patience, your heart. You feel like you’re losing control on yourself, and it drives you insane. 

Tony had warned you about this. He said that at some point, something big would be descending to Earth and it would require the Avengers that had been hiding out to resurface. Tony had been adamant that you remain behind with Rhodes in the Compound, since the two of you were best friends along with your twin brother.. and he wanted someone to be there in case something went wrong. 

  “Keep him safe for me, kiddo.” You pursed your lips as Tony stood on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek eagerly. “Going with the missus to the park. Be good.. and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

  “You do remember that I’m ten minutes older then you, right?” You replied mockingly. “Cause I’m normally the one who makes the stupid decisions.” 

The smile that spread across his face was enough to melt your heart. It was about time that Anthony Stark had some happiness in his life. 

Trembling fingers grip the flannel that’s wrapped around your body, a deep blue garment that had once belonged to Steve. The last time you’d worn it was before the Civil War had occurred, before it had torn your family to shreds and ruined a life you had once loved. 

  “Y/N? You hearin’ me?” 

Rhodey wraps his fingers around the frame of your wrist, gently tugging you away from an equally confused Natasha to give the two of you a bit more privacy. The former soldier knows the signs of an anxiety attack all too well - He had been helping both you and Tony deal with them for ages. It was normally Tony who had them.. you tended to act as if you were made of steel. You never let your walls fall, never let your vulnerability show. 

Not until Steven Grant Rogers came crashing back into your life like a forceful hurricane, demolishing the walls you’d built around your heart since he had left you behind. It still hurt to think about how the only man to ever love you had just.. left you behind. 

  “I-I hear you-” You rasped, wincing as it became difficult to properly breathe. The other Avengers were watching you so intently that you squirmed under their gaze, shrinking into Rhodes body and gripping his MIT shirt for support. “They-They won’t stop staring-” 

Vision was the one to step up. “I believe Miss Stark requires a moment alone, Captain.” He replied firmly, ushering the others in the lab from the premises. You wrapped your arms around James Rhodes and settled your chin on his shoulder, locking eyes with the humanoid AI (an: im sorry lol) and thanking him with a silent nod. 

  “You’re okay. If he even tries anything, I’ll kick him into next week with my bionic super legs.” 

  “The Civil War happened three years ago, James.” You replied solemnly, wiping your dampened cheeks with the backs of your hands as you inhaled deeply. Your vision slowly cleared until you were gazing at the stark white walls of the lab, the silence enveloping you in a sense of safety you had not felt in quite a while. “Grudges have to die at some point. I want to put this to rest. I want to get over him. To stop-” 

  “To stop loving him?”

You froze midway to the door and paused in your place, pressing your lips into a thin line as a sudden cold enveloped you - and you found yourself back in the confined walls of a HYDRA base in Siberia, where Steve Rogers had left Tony Stark for dead. 

The internal heater of your suit dissipated when you removed your helmet, sinking to your knees in the fabric of your armor to shield your brother from Steve Rogers wrath. Tony had created the suit to be light-weight and stealthy, while also offering equal protection and distribution of your powers. 

It contained the chaos that so often came with your presence. 

The super soldier stood over the both of you, shield weakly clutched in his arm as he stared at the blood painting Tonys face. 

  “Steve-” You cried out weakly, shivering as Tony wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you back against him. Despite the fact that you were the older sibling, your brother never failed in his devotion to protect his only living family member left. “Steven.. After all we’ve been through, you’re just going to leave the woman you love?” 

  “He’s my friend, Y/N. He’s.. He’s Bucky.” 

Rage replaced the grief flooding through your veins as you lunged forward, slamming Steve into the wall with your entire body weight, which also caused him to drop Bucky Barnes in the process. Normally you would’ve cared, but this was between the two of you. The man who you loved and who loved you. 

  “You don’t just abandon the people you love.” Tears blurred your vision as you rested your forehead against his own, oblivious to Steve’s fingertips ghosting over the shape of your hips. Oh, how he was going to miss touching you. “I thought.. what happened to loving me, Steve?” 

He never answered you. He simply pushed your battered form aside and bent down to grip Bucky in his embrace before leaving the HYDRA facility entirely. There was nothing but you, Tony, and the bitter cold. 

You had made a vow from that point on to never love another man the way you had loved him. But seeing Steve after all these years, gazing at you with such awe and such guilt over his choices.. It had you contemplating that vow. 

  “That’s the thing Rhodes,” You slowly exhaled through your nose and ran your hands over your face exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.” 

Part 2???? 

"We're in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops" Minjoon

Pairing: MinJoon (Jimin x Namjoon)Prompt: “We’re in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops” AU Rating: PGWord Count: 2,447A/N: *whispers* Minjoon is so precious ^~^ thank you anon for requesting and sorry I took forever with this (I hope you still get to read this)!! (P.S. Jimin’s doing the swearing on my behalf bc I swear that I don’t really swear at all irl – pun unintended) Enjoy!

Jimin’s phone vibrates once in his lap. He ignores it, working on the math problem he has in front of it. It vibrates again, then a series of vibrations start. Jimin curses under his breath, dropping his pen down to pick up his phone instead. 

There’s a flood of kakaotalk messages from Taehyung. 

[4:32PM TaeTae]im bored

chimchim

talk to me :( 

[4:33PM TaeTae] i hate math

save me

chimmm

why you ignoring me

chimmmmmmmmmmmmm

Jimin looks up and shoots a glare at Taehyung who’s sitting diagonally across from him at the table. Taehyung’s face lights up with a triumphant smile. 

[4:35PM Jimin]I’m trying to do my math problems, stop trying to distract me

Jabbing the home button, Jimin picks up his pen and goes back to staring at the same question that he’s been stuck on for nearly 20 minutes. There’s a reason Jimin’s here, stuck in study group past 4pm on a Friday afternoon rather than practicing his dance moves in the studio. 

Whoever deigned it necessary for a music student like him to take math in university should rethink their lives. How the hell is math even remotely needed in his degree? Something about holistic education and well-roundedness or some shitty excuse is what the deans will say but that’s honestly a ton of bullshit. Bullshit that has people like Jimin suffering because his midterms came back with an ugly 30/100 on the top and a “see me” post-it note tagged on the side. Taehyung had the nerve to laugh at him when he barely scraped a 33/100 on his. 

So here they are, stuck in a study group that’s supposed to coach them into passing finals. Jimin’s only here because the fear of having to retake the module and suffer another semester of math is real. 

His phone starts vibrating again. Jimin tsks under his breath, trying his best to ignore it, which is nearly impossible when his phone is basically wiggling its way dangerously close to his crotch. Stupid Taehyung and his non-existent attention span. Resigned, Jimin sighs and picks up his phone again. 

[4:37PM TaeTae]im still bored 

dont be mean chim

stop ignoring em

me*chimmmm lets go for tonkatsu later

i feel like treating myself after this torture

[4:38PM TaeTae]yah i know you can feel your phone 

if you keep ignoring me im gonna tell namjoon hyung you have the biggest crush on him 

i swear 

Jimin sucks in a breath. Dammit why did he ever let it out to Taehyung about Namjoon? He should have known that Taehyung would use it to blackmail him someday. 

Not that intoxicated Jimin had cared a week ago when he, in Taehyung’s words, “wailed for a solid hour about Namjoon hyung’s beautiful gaze and lips and body and everything”. And no, Jimin is still adamant that he couldn’t have been as pathetic as what Taehyung makes him out to be. It’s just a tiny crush okay, Jimin can appreciate good aesthetics and that’s not his fault.

[4:40PM Jimin] You wouldn’t actually do that

[4:40PM TaeTae] you talking to me ~\(≧▽≦)/~

so tonkatsu?? 

and if you ignore me i will 

[4:41PM Jimin] Whatever, Namjoon hyung won’t believe anything you say 

Do your work. I’m going to mute kakaotalk.

Satisfied, Jimin does exactly that. Taehyung can’t disturb him now and he can have the last 20 minutes of study group for math practice. Extra exam preparation questions that he has to hand in on Monday and still has no idea how to do. Jimin suddenly feels the urgency in his bones. 

Inherently, Jimin is someone who hates relying on others for help. It makes him feel somewhat worthless, inadequate in a way that leaves an unsettling feeling swirling in his gut. Which is why he’s debating hard whether or not to actually bring up his questions to their study group mentor now. 

The choice should be pretty obvious, because putting his pride down now is better than taking the walk of shame to the front of his tutorial class to meet the professor. It should be obvious, except that Namjoon is their study group mentor. Yeah, the very Namjoon that Jimin has a tiny crush on. 

Jimin bites his lip. It shouldn’t be a big deal really. Namjoon doesn’t even know he has a crush for god’s sake. Besides, Jimin’s pretty sure at least a fifth of the juniors in school have some sort of a crush on Namjoon. Namjoon who is tall, charming, smart and really nice and helpful to all juniors. Jimin probably needs his fingers and toes (maybe Taehyung’s too) to count the number of times he’s overheard whispered conversation and soft squeals over senior Kim Namjoon. 

But that said, the math problems are still leering at him. Forget about having any choice, Jimin doesn’t want to die of shame on Monday submitting a blank paper. Sighing, Jimin picks up his phone, turning on the camera app to take pictures of the questions he’s been stuck at. 

Namjoon has this system in study group, where they can send him pictures over WhatsApp of the questions they need help with so that he can look over the questions while helping the previous student. It’s somewhat like his own queue system that he’s implemented and it works. And yeah, it’s specifically WhatsApp, not KakaoTalk. Taehyung said and Jimin quotes “that Namjoon hyung is way too English-ified”. As if that really explains why Namjoon prefers an American chat app over a Korean one. 

Jimin opens Whatsapp and opens a fresh chat with Namjoon. His phone vibrates, banner on the top of his screen displaying WhatsApp notifications from none other than Taehyung. The first one reads “you really muted!!!!” and the second announces an attached photo. 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin decides to quickly attach the two photos of questions that he has to ask Namjoon before attending to Taehyung’s messages. He absently clicks the last two photos in his gallery and clicks send. 

Okay, now to entertain Taehyung while he waits for his turn with Namjoon. He’s about to exit the chat with Namjoon when something catches his attention. The first photo sent doesn’t have a plain white background. It’s definitely not his question paper. Jimin blinks, scrolling up so that the whole photo comes into view. 

“Fuck.” The girl sitting beside him shifts her gaze to glare at him but Jimin barely notices. “Fuck no no no, please don’t send. Oh god, please don’t." 

Jimin fumbles with his phone. The two grey ticks appear. Jimin collapses back in his seat with a small whimper. Opposite, Taehyung glances up in mild concern. 

This can’t be real. Maybe it’s just a bad dream, yeah? Maybe he’s getting so exhausted from math that he’s starting to hallucinate. It can’t be real, right? Jimin nearly jumps in his seat when his phone vibrates again in his hands. A banner notification from Taehyung that says ”what’s wrong chim“ and then ”you scaring me“. 

He’s still in the chat with Namjoon. Jimin swallows, throat dry. He blinks hard once, twice. The grey ticks are still there, mocking. Jimin wants to cry.

This is worse than any walk of shame to see his professor. Because right above his picture of his math problem is one of Jimin sitting in a tub, clothes trail on the bathroom floor as he hugs an empty soju bottle. Naked and drunk stupid. And if that isn’t bad enough, it’s most definitely Taehyung’s Snapchat capture because there’s a text banner that Taehyung’s kindly covered his exposed crotch with that reads "AWW LOVERBOY CRYING OVER JOONIE HYUNG”. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be thankful for Taehyung salvaging the last bit of his dignity. 

Of course Jimin is that dumbass that never switched off the function on WhatsApp that automatically downloads media into his phone. Taehyung had told him once to switch it because “it downloads useless photos and takes up space”, to which Jimin had shrugged and muttered something about having 256GB to spare. 

And it’s here to bite him in the ass now. Taehyung was probably sending him proof of blackmail material he has of Jimin’s crush on Namjoon, which Jimin knows Taehyung will never actually use to blackmail him. Except he just had to send it before Jimin got about to sending his math questions and obviously Jimin is the idiot who doesn’t check what he’s sending and just clicks the latest pictures. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin freaking out all over again. Taehyung’s flooding him with messages now, to which Jimin replies with a simple “fuck you” because he can’t take all the blame for his battered pride. 

Jimin’s back in his chat with Namjoon, math now forgotten, and still internally panicking when it happens. The grey ticks turn blue. It’s like everything comes to a standstill and Jimin stops breathing. Namjoon read the messages. Namjoon fucking saw the pictures. 

It’s like a slap of cold water to his face and Jimin sucks in a sharp breath. He needs to get out of here. Screw study group, he’ll ask for a transfer or just stop attending. He can’t face Namjoon, not now, not ever.

With shaking hands, Jimin grabs his bag, haphazardly stuffing his homework and stationery in. 

“Chim,” Taehyung hisses from across the table. Jimin ignores him. He doesn’t have enough focus outside of his panic to actually care. “Jimin, what’s happening?" 

Jimin zips his bag up and stands, setting his eyes on the door. He can feel a few curious stares and from the corner of his eye, he sees Taehyung standing to follow him. 

With his head down, Jimin makes a beeline for the door, making sure to shut it softly behind him so as not to make a scene. Hurrying down the corridor, Jimin feels dread curling like bile in his throat. 

As he rounds the corner, he hears hurried footsteps behind him. It’s probably Taehyung wanting to know what happened. Jimin doesn’t really want to talk about it. The magnitude of the whole situation is catching up with him and all he wants to do is curl up in a corner and drown in self pity. 

The footsteps close in, coming to a halt behind him. "Jimin-ssi." 

It isn’t Taehyung. Jimin’s breath hitches. Namjoon hyung. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jimin turns out of reflex. Their gazes meet and Jimin immediately drops his, shuffling a small step backwards. Namjoon drops his hand to his side. 

The corridor is empty. Jimin’s partly glad that no one’s going to witness his death by shame. He doesn’t dare look up at Namjoon. 

The silence drags a moment too long and Jimin’s unconsciously starting to shift his weight from feet to feet when Namjoon sighs. Wordlessly, he lifts his phone, tilting it for Jimin to look at. 

Jimin chews on his bottom lip hard. Drunk Jimin stares back at him hazy and unabashed. Jimin kind of wants to fling the phone across the hall. He would do it, except it’s Namjoon’s. 

"What’s this?” Namjoon says finally. 

Jimin pulls at the hem of his shirt, scrunching it up and then letting it go. “I… I sort of sent you my nude by accident?” Internally, he winces at his choice of words. “Oops?” He adds, before his brain catches up and goddammit Park Jimin why can’t you play it off like it isn’t a big deal because it really isn’t. 

It shouldn’t be at least.

“Uhm,” Namjoon replies. “Okay.” He lowers the phone slowly. “I… the caption…” Namjoon’s voice trails off.

Jimin closes his eyes. Of course. Why did he expect? Taehyung and his stupid caption. Jimin contemplates lying and pretending that “Joonie hyung” isn’t the one standing right before him. There’s probably a dozen and one people who have the nickname “Joonie”, right? But Jimin is horrible at lying and it always tugs at his conscience. 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” Jimin starts. “I mean, I was really going to send you my math questions. But Taehyung wanted to blackmail me and I didn’t turn off that auto download and it just sent and like, I had a crush on you since forever but half the school does too and you can’t blame be for appreciating good aesthetics but I don’t even know if you like girls or guys, I’m sorry I’m-”

Jimin breaks off when he feels fingers beneath his chin. He freezes. 

“You’re rambling,” Namjoon says mildly. He pushes gently, tilting Jimin’s face up, gaze searching. “Crush on me, huh?” Namjoon’s tone is light, teasing almost. He chuckles softly.

Jimin feels his face heat and he bristles. “I’m sorry I’m such a loser who doesn’t know how to ask his brain and heart to shut the fuck up about you,” he snaps. Dammit that came out all wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap-”

“You’re apologizing a whole lot,” Namjoon says, a dimpled smile spreading. “Sorr- I mean…” Jimin wants to facepalm himself. 

Namjoon laughs, the sound of it making Jimin’s stomach flip. “Well,” Namjoon shrugs, “If you’re really sorry about it, you could treat me to coffee now.”

Jimin stares dumbly. Coffee, what?

Namjoon awkwardly rubs the nape of his neck. “I mean, if you’re free that is. I haven’t managed to answer your math questions after all, and study group session’s over.”

Right. The math questions, Jimin almost forgot. “Of course, I’ll buy you coffee, Namjoon-ssi." 

Namjoon scrunches his nose. "Just hyung will do,” he says, and Jimin feels something warm settle in the pit of his stomach. “Or Joonie hyung if you want,” Namjoon adds, shooting him a grin. “I don’t mind.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Jimin groans. “And can you please delete that photo and pretend you never saw it?” Namjoon shakes his head. Jimin feels himself deflate a little. “Why, hyung? Do you want it for blackmail too?”

“No, of course not!” Namjoon feigns an offended look. “What do you take me for? I just can appreciate good aesthetics.” Then before Jimin can register those words and respond, Namjoon places a hand on the small of Jimin’s back to steer him in the direction of the campus exit. “Come on, it’s a date!”

(They end up talking for hours over coffee and forgetting about tutoring. Jimin later insists that circumstances forced him to visit Namjoon’s apartment on a Saturday to do math while having takeouts, which somehow dragged on into movie night and Jimin crashing at Namjoon’s place. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin calling Namjoon his boyfriend. And no, Taehyung gets zero credit because Jimin’s going to take all of it for himself.)

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic that got pretty long! I’ve never written Minjoon ever so I hope this is at least somewhat good (and cute maybe because it’s supposed to be fluff kinda). Also thank you to those of you who read my previous mini fics (and those who leave comments in your tags, they really make my day!)

Send me a prompt and a bangtan pairing, I’ll write you a short fic ♡

@iamalwaysaslutforcoffee and @amirosebooks tagged me for the thing! ❤️❤️

1. Are you named after anyone? my second name (małgorzata) is after a sea shanty about a young girl who takes care of an old, mean dutch sailor even tho he’s mean to her. because my dad is a sailor and named all my sisters (there are seven of us) after things to do with the sea. i actually got the most normal name, despite the absolute strangeness to me of my feminist mother being like YEAH WHAT A GREAT MESSAGE FOR OUR DAUGHTER WHAT LOFTY GOALS TO ASPIRE TO. my third name (irena) is my grandma’s. 

2. When was the last time you cried? about a week ago. i was just elected to the board of a professional society i belong to, and i got an email from the incoming president in response to my request for disability accommodations about how “disappointed” in me she was and that she would need to find someone else to fill the role if i couldn't do it without accommodation bc as we all know disabled people can’t do the same jobs as well as non-disabled people. soooooo. who knows. i might get fired bc i revealed that im disabled. maybe i should tell them that im gay next.

3. Do you like your handwriting? nnnnnn, i have no thoughts on this?? i don’t generally write things by hand. i do, however, write in all caps and this is a thing i picked up from one of the brothers who taught at my high school (i went to catholic school) who always wrote in all caps on the blackboard. 

4. What is your favorite lunch meat? turkey

5. Do you have kids? not yet. future baby daddy and i are planning to wait a couple more years. BUT SOON. THEY ARE COMING. TO END THE WORLD. they will be just so fucking blonde. (he and i were both white blonde as children, and also had terrible, terrible judgment or decision making abilities until about the age of 25. at least for me. even at 31, his decision making prowess is debatable. so they will be blonde and stick their fingers into every single light socket ever.) (also side note: but it is so fucking weird to me that he’s 31, ALMOST 32, because i have known him since he was 16 and the photo of him that comes up on my phone is him at 16, all acned-up, flicking me off and smoking a cigarette, sitting on the railroad bridge behind our high school. so anytime i see him in person i keep being like, JESUS YOU GOT OLD???) 

6. If you were a different person would you be friends with you? idk??? it depends i guess on the new person i was. 

7. Do you use sarcasm? ABSOLUTELY NO NEVER

8. Do you still have your tonsils? yup

9. Would you bungee jump? would, and have. prefer skydiving tho. 

10. What’s your favorite cereal? meat

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? it depends. one pair of combat boots has zips, so i can just unzip them. but one pair is just eight thousand laces so i have to unlace them to get them off. 

12.Do you think you’re a strong person? yes

13. What’s your favorite ice cream? engelblau. not to eat; i’m just really happy that it exists and it reminds me of cas. 

14. What’s the first thing you notice about people? if they view mockery as a form of affection

15. What’s your least favorite physical thing about yourself? well that’s a depressing question. stomach?? height, maybe. 

16. What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? i am wearing purple and navy boxers with tiny dancing polar bears on them. and im barefoot. 

17. What are you listening to right now? take that - the flood 

18. If you were a crayon what color would you be? cerulean 

19. Favorite smell? MINT LEAVES. like seriously if you give me fresh mint i will just sit there and huff it for like. hours. 

20. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? one of my project managers

21. Favorite sport to watch? high school basketball or track and field in the olympics

22. Hair color? silvery purple-blue that looks like the colour of a dead squid

23. Eye color? green

24. Do you wear contacts? t-technically? but i almost never actualfax wear them

25. Favorite food? tea

26. Scary movies or comedy? documentary

27. Last movie you watched? hidden figures. WHICH WAS GR8 BTW. A++++ do recommend.

28: What color shirt are you wearing? green. it has a t-rex trying and failing to do a push up. 

29. Summer or winter? summer

30. Hugs or kisses? kisses, i guess. i don’t generally do hugs. 

31.Book you’re currently reading? ugh no im not going to list it it’s for work and it’s corporate and ridiculous

32. Who do you miss right now? @plays-with-shadows, @amazinmango, someone who won’t talk to me rn, my dog samsa

33. What’s on your mouse pad? a grey hoodie and some fur. (i was using my dog borys as a mouse pad when i had to uninstall the mouse drivers on my laptop and needed to use an external mouse to reinstall them.) 

34. What’s the last tv program you watched? orphan black

35. What is the best sound?  the roo-roo-roos of my dogs when i come home

36. Rolling stones or The Beatles? stones

37. What’s the furthest you’ve ever traveled? uhhhh. idk. i’ve been to 48 states in the us, and most of europe, and now nicaragua. 

38. Do you have a special talent? i can fold my tongue backwards??

39. Where were you born? the barren north

tagging: @culumacilinte, @pecanpiedean, @isaksredscarf, @writtendark, @destielsimpalatardis