#right now it hurts physically to read them

[crescenthistory]

You Too, Silly

Pairing: Bartylus x Reader (Starkiller x Reader)

Summary: When your two best friends fall in love and make it official, you try to be happy for them despite your heartbreak. When they keep flirting with you, though, things grow complicated.

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, poly relationship obvi, miscommunication trope, pining & yearning, hurt/comfort, (some) angst with a (very) happy ending, your pov and you think your love is unrequited, it is not!, all three of you are stupid but you're in love so it's fine, kissing while crying, some slight suggestiveness but overall safe for minors, light drinking at a slytherin party

Note: this is my hard launch of romanian!barty mwah – if you don't like it sorry not sorry, this is my barty now!

Being in love with your two best friends hurts.

Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other hurts perhaps even more.

Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other, yet for some reason seem hellbent on jokingly flirting with you at any given moment could be considered a form of torture.

And for the past few weeks, Barty Crouch Junior and Regulus Black have been putting you through nothing short of torture.

As any relationship either boy has sustained throughout their lives, your friendship with them was complicated. When you and your dorm mate Dorcas first began integrating yourselves in the friend group that consisted of Barty, Regulus and the elusive Rosier twins, you had both said you might come to regret it. You remember clearly sitting up one night and talking about it – you both thought it would end in flames, yet somehow you couldn’t help but poke the bear. You would prefer to fly under the radar, avoid any more pain than you had already had to grapple with, but you also craved a sense of belonging and figured it was worth the risk.

And oh, were you rewarded. 

No friend had treasured you the way Barty does. The second he decided he “liked your vibe” as he put it when he cut you off mid-sentence during your first proper hang-out, you had a loyal guard dog who would kill for you and then demand cuddles as payment. Almost overnight, wherever you went, Barty wouldn’t be far behind, no questions asked. He was fierce in his love, uninhibited and wild. It made you feel important in a way that sizzled over your skin.

In Regulus, you found a quiet understanding no one else had been able to give you before. He was both a mirror held up to your face and a cushioned bench to share during your turmoils. It seemed like he could read your every thought, every experience, like the books you would bond over. Silences shared with Regulus often gave you more than long conversations with others ever could. While he didn’t declare your friendship in the same way Barty did, he still had this simple way of making you feel seen and known.

They quickly cemented themselves at the root of your heart. They were your best friends, and you theirs. Your boys; with their respective green and white strands in their curly hair, who were misunderstood in each their way yet were never a mystery to you.

Perhaps naively, you had always thought there was a certain tension there, that something ran deeper below the surface. Barty was physically affectionate with all his friends, but the way he reached out for you felt differently charged. The only other person he held as long as he did you, was Regulus. It felt right. Likewise, you had yet to be in a room with Regulus without feeling his eyes on you, and you often absentmindedly compared the feeling to when Barty hugs you – they were equivalents, those gazes were the former boy’s version of affection. When you played spin the bottle during an after-party in the boys’ dorm one night, Barty’s grin had widened brilliantly when it landed on you and Regulus. You had sworn you had seen a hunger in his eyes when he watched you share the brief kiss, and you could still hear the soft sigh Regulus breathed against your lips. Again, it all felt so right. 

It went unspoken, but you thought that was because it did not need to – not because it was not there.

You knew, of course, that you had been stupidly delusional when Barty hauled Regulus with him into the Great Hall a month ago, hands intertwined, and announced with his signature Cheshire cat smile that he “finally got the boy”. You saw them making out – rather publicly – at the quidditch victory party the night before, but at the time it had only made you smile. It was odd, how you hadn’t realised that kiss was proof that all this tension really was just the two of them. Not before the words left Barty’s mouth did it hit you that this was a part of them you were not involved in. That felt decidedly wrong, but you shoved it down and joined in on the wolf whistling and congratulations, pushing your plate away in the chaos, unable to take another bite.

Since then, you have just tried to be happy for them. Or at least seem it.

Tried to smile through it all as Barty made sure their honeymoon phase was as public as humanly possible, much to Regulus’ ongoing chagrin. Tried to laugh at the quips your friends made, the “get a room you two”s and the “lovebirds”s, though you were never able to dish them out yourself, instead just humming along in agreement whenever Dorcas or Evan did. Tried to stiffen your mask to the point where it could not crack underneath the pressure of emotion, perfectly polished as you originally intended for it to be. All those years ago, before they had ensured you would not need it – you gave yourself a silent thank you for your previous doomsday caution. 

You even tried not to avoid Barty and Regulus, to be normal. Why should they be punished by losing one of their best friends because they had the audacity not to fall in love with her too? While you thought yourself generally successful in not showing disdain for their new relationship, this was the one aspect you struggled the most with. Your instinct was to run away and it physically pained you not to. In the few weeks they had been together, you had not been able to stomach being alone with just the two of them and confront their relationship in such close proximity – but you knew you could not avoid them altogether. Instead, you tried to always attach yourself at Dorcas’ hip and always invite the rest of your friends if Barty and Regulus wanted to do something with you. They ask you to study out by the Black Lake? Fantastic, you, Dorcas and Pandora have an Astronomy project you need to work on anyway. They want to visit that one store in Hogsmeade with you? How convenient that Evan was discussing how he needed something from there earlier, and if he goes, then Pandora goes and if she goes Dorcas can’t be the only one left behind, can she?

To offset any accusation that you were not spending time with them alone, you still spent time with them one on one when you knew the other would be busy – just seeing Regulus or Barty was not too bad, it was seeing them as a couple, knowing it did not include you, that you could not withstand. If you were alone with one, you could just pretend nothing changed. 

You made sure you focused on these ‘rules’ in your mind, the carefully constructed plan on how to make it through the year. Somehow you did not have it in you to wish they would break up and put you out of your misery – you wanted them, not just one – so instead you set your sights on graduation day. What you would do afterwards, you did not yet know. Disappear off the face of the earth? Become an Unspeakable as an excuse not to ever see them again? Endless possibilities. You zeroed your focus on your coursework and these measures you must take to protect your heart and sanity – if you filled your mind like this, maybe you could distract yourself from the pain that leaked through your body.

Barty remaining his flirtatious self whenever he was around you and Regulus’ simmering dedication to you seemingly only building, was decidedly not helping your case.

Which is how you ended up in this admittedly awkward cat and goose chase.

“There you are!” Not only did you hear Barty’s screech the moment he laid his eyes on you – everyone else in the library did as well, going by the shushes and ugly glares you both received that Barty paid zero mind to. “Dragă, I have been going crazy without you, where have you been?”

He plopped down on the bench beside you instead of any of the readily available chairs around the table, thigh flush against yours. “Good morning, B,” you whispered, hoping to lower his volume with yours.

The ever-growing grin on his face told you he likely understood your attempt. His hair was still damp from his morning shower and hanging slightly in front of his eyes, but you could see the sparkle there you thought was reserved for you. “Good morning,” he stage-whispered dramatically, to show his abiding of library law. Then, he pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek before pulling up his books. “Tell me, why are we studying on a weekend morning?”

This was the kind of activity that caused your delusion. It was early on a Sunday, arguably too early, and you had snuck out of your dorm to the library before anyone else woke so you would not be roped into any heartbreaking hangout. Yet, upon your absence, Barty went looking for you before doing his hair or anything – and when he found you studying, as he likely assumed you would be, he just joined you. There was no reason for him to.

You had been staring at him a tad bit too incredulously for a tad bit too long, so he gave you a cheeky sideway glance while he readied his books. “Too early for you too, baby?”

You shook your head, but couldn’t stop the laugh escaping you. “Maybe I’m just shocked at seeing you voluntarily in the library. I usually have to drag you here.”

“Yeah, because usually I have you with me somewhere more fun when you try to go to the library,” he explained to you matter-of-factly. “Now that you are here from the get-go, I accept my fate that this is where we’ll be. For now.”

“Lucky me.” You poked him lightly in the side to emphasise your sarcasm before you tried to return to your books, though your attention was thoroughly divided.

“I reckon I am the lucky one who gets to spend time with the fittest babe in the castle.”

You snorted at the same time as your heart shattered further – an odd reaction none other than Barty could draw from you. Those comments are not only how you got in this whole emotional mess to begin with, but felt like genuine ice shards spearing through your flesh. You were guilt-ridden as you revelled in them, and begged the gods he would stop.

“And I reckon,” you teasingly copied, hoping to sound level-headed and not agonised, “that Regulus would not appreciate having that title taken away from him.”

“Regulus is a fit babe,” Barty said dreamily, unaffected by your correction. “But he would agree that the title belongs to you, Dragă.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Barty was incredibly particular in how he showed affection, and flirting with you explicitly was not at all out of character for him. You just, perhaps bitterly, hoped that maybe he would stop, if he was to be in a monogamous relationship with one of his two best friends.

“What’ll you be working on?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation. 

Likely entirely unaware of your attempt, Barty allowed you, delving into a longer rant about what extra assignment Professor Flitwick had assigned him because he “saw potential in you, young man”, which he of course found to be utter “trollpiss”. It was familiar, working side by side while also not studying at all, gossiping like the two best friends you are. It should be lovely, and you kicked yourself for being hung up on it just being friendly, when friendliness in itself is a gift you should be grateful for.

While you tried to allow yourself to enjoy Barty’s company and not be guilty for how hard you noticed where his body touched yours, you kept your eye on the clock. Regulus had prefect rounds on Sunday mornings, but as soon as he finished them, he would seek the two of you out. 

You had to get away from Barty before then.

“While this was lovely,” you said with a forced airy tone, “I have to get going now, B.”

“Cool, where’re we goin’?”

Your pageant winner smile wavered slightly as he immediately began to pack up his belongings, considering it a given that he would join you in your endeavours. “I don’t think so. I’m heading to meet with the Hufflepuff third years I tutor, and I believe it would be considered a crime to introduce them to you when they’ve just stopped being scared of me.”

Not technically a lie. You picked up a massive amount of extracurriculars after Regulus and Barty became official, and tutoring Hufflepuffs was part of it. Though you had no scheduled study session with them today, you knew at least two of them were still too much of a pushover to say no to you if you headed over there. Innocent casualties in your escapades. 

Barty immediately pouted. “No fun,” he whined, sitting back down before you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you flush to him so he could rest his forehead on your stomach in defeat. “Why do you have to be such a swot? I miss you.”

You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart flutter at the sentiment. You brought a shaky, selfish hand up to card lightly through his hair, separating the green from the black. “Sorry, B. Duty calls and you know how much I love to be a hero.”

“No hero would leave such a perfect victim like me destitute and alone.” He moved his chin to rest against your flesh so he could look up at you in faux misery.

“Good thing you have Regulus, then.” You feared your voice was more pointed than you wanted it to be. It did not go with the pleasant mask you tried to wear, but the mask never fit quite right around Barty.

Something odd flashed across his eyes at your words and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Whether he wanted to say something that would explain it, you would not find out, because you gave his hair one last ruffle before patting his cheek lightly and pulling away.

“I’ll see you for dinner, alright B? Don’t worry about me.” You turned around and walked away without waiting for a response.

It still came behind you, sounding too much like the ache in your own chest. “Counting down the minutes!”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You survived the rest of the Sunday with little to no incident; as in, you avoided being alone with Regulus and Barty, ensuring the friend group ate together and sat together in the common room afterwards. When Pandora retreated to head to bed, you immediately used the excuse to slither away too, lest you end up trapped with just the two of them by the fire.

Dorcas opened the door to your dorm just a few minutes after you had settled down on your bed to reread your comfort novel. You looked up with a warm, small smile to greet her, but it slipped away as you saw her eyeing you carefully. Neither of you said anything before she was sat on her own bed opposite you, studying you. There was this crackling ferocity to Dorcas’ silences that would make even the strongest man cave – and you were not feeling particularly strong lately.

“Spit it out.” It was all she said.

You sighed and put your book aside, straightening up in your previously comfortable position. “What is it, Cas?”

She gave you a stern but not unkind look. “You’re different. Why?”

“Different how?” You stalled.

She indulged you. “You’re not yourself, babe. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you act like you’re programmed and not like you’re living. I want to know what’s wrong. I want to help.”

The staggering, almost fragmented way she spoke was in part to spoon-feed you her concern so that you might actually answer her truthfully and in part how Dorcas was with emotions. She had not been raised to speak of them, but she was loyal and smart, so she knew when it was needed, even if you wished she wouldn’t.

You looked at her with heavy eyes for a moment before sighing once more and bringing your hands up to roughly rub at your face. “There is no way for you to help right now, I’m sorry. Except maybe be my shield.” The last part was added as a joke, but it fell flat.

“Shield you from what?” Protectiveness flared in her tone and you knew you had to soothe it with the truth.

“Not what,” you said softly. “Who.” You pleaded with your eyes for her to understand.

It took but a few seconds before her face scrunched up in pity – and something that would almost looked like amusement, had you thought her cruel enough to laugh at you. “Barty and Regulus.” 

It was a statement, not a question, yet you nodded in affirmation, shutting your eyes in humiliation. “It’s bad, Dorcas. It’s so bad.” A tired heave for breath. “But I will get through it. I just need a little bit of distance without any drama around it and to get my shit together.”

Dorcas looked like she was weighing up her next words carefully. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would have told you to talk with them. Alas, I know you won’t. But I hope you somehow end up having to.”

Cryptic and confusing; just how you knew her to be. 

When she realised you would not answer her first sentiments, it was her turn to sigh and give you a rueful smile. “I assume this is why I suddenly have been roped into so much lately? Marlene misses me.”

You laugh at her teasing tone, happy for her to not dig too much into your feelings. “Sorry about that, babe. Just for a little while longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she repeated with a tilted head. “If it’s any help, I get it.”

“Considering you got the girl, I don’t think you do.” There was no malice in your words, just a bit of longing. It was bittersweet to indirectly admit your loss.

“That’s not what I meant.” She waited to continue before you met her eyes once more. “I can’t say I understand your heartbreak exactly, but I share your confusion. I also thought you would be part of it.”

The look you gave her must have been nothing short of gobsmacked, yet she had the kindness to not laugh at you. It was unclear whether you were most surprised by her knowing you were in love with both of them, or her having shared the same assumptions as you once. Both floored you.

“I–” you tried, but your voice failed you. All you were able to do was whisper a small, “Thank you.”

This time, there was nothing but pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry babe. I’ll shield you to the best of my ability.”

You shared small, knowing smiles and you decided to end the conversation there, lest it get teary. Reaching over, you carefully switched off your light and placed your book on your nightstand, abandoning any attempt at being comforted for the night. When you laid your head on your pillow, there were phantom indents on either side.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The one place you had no opportunity to shield yourself from or avoid either of them was during classes.

With your timetables for the year, you and Regulus ended up sharing more than half of your classes, while Barty was in at least a third of them. When you first saw the allocations, it felt like painfully little, and the thought of scraping by so many classes without them felt like a punishment you did not deserve. Now, you almost wished it was less.

Almost was the key word though – because Regulus’ presence by your side at your shared Herbology station was somehow melting the tension that had settled in your bones and making your chest heave all at the same time.

His elbow bumped lightly into yours. “You alright?”

You looked up from the notes you were pretending to study for the depotting you two were currently attempting, giving him a brief smile. “‘Course. Ready for the next step?”

His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, flickering over your face carefully before nodding almost imperceivable. You shifted your focus towards the Venomous Tentacula on the bench before you, reaching out to carefully manoeuvre the prickly leaves away so Regulus could attend to the roots when his hand stopped yours.

“These aren’t tight enough.” His voice was but a whisper as he took off his gloves to tighten yours where the velcro was hazardously slapped on top of each other. With long, cold fingers he elegantly realigned the straps and made sure there was no gap between your skin and glove. “Don’t want my best girl getting hurt, right?” 

Regulus looked up to meet your eyes, a small smile playing over his lips. With his striking grey eyes locked on yours, you feared your emotions were too clearly pasted across your face. His loose grip remained on your bare skin, thumbs brushing carefully above your gloves.

“Right,” was all you offered him curtly, pulling your hands back to yourself. 

Together you navigated the plant meticulously from one pot to the other you had pre-prepared. Propagating, maintaining and harvesting from the plant was one of your major projects in Herbology for the term and you and Regulus had been dedicated to your so-called coparenting to begin with. Now, to have his body half pressed to yours as you covered the plant’s teeth and angled its venomous leaves away while he extracted and cleaned its roots, it was almost too much. You breathed in and instead of being overwhelmed by the smell of dirt, your nose was filled with Regulus’ shampoo and cologne. You were suddenly thankful your part of the job was rather stationary, as you feared your hands trembling.

Regulus took a laboured breath as he settled the plant properly within its new home, packing the potting mix carefully around the roots. “Right there, perfect,” he murmured, presumably to himself, yet you fought the shiver down your spine. You noticed him glancing at you in the corner of his eye with what can only be classified as a smirk growing on his lips. “Amazing work, amour.” That was unmistakably to you.

You lightly shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Are we done?”

“Unfortunately,” Regulus replied, dusting the remaining dirt off his gloves as he took a small step back from the plant – and closer to you. “Gregory has been successfully assimilated to his new environment.”

You scoffed a laugh, to which his smile grew genuine. “You’ve got a flare for the dramatics, Black.”

“Only comes with being close to one Bartiemus Junior, doesn’t it?”

His eyes were crinkling from his smile and adoration, but you took the comment for what it was – a reminder. A warning. Albeit a confusing one, giving his amorous words just a few moments ago, but one you most certainly needed. “That it does.” Your tone was drier than you intended, but you did good; the smile didn’t slip.

Regulus’ did, and he tilted his head while regarding you. “I almost slipped up a few times there, though. Was a tad distracted.” There was an undeniable cheekiness dripping from his words.

“Yeah?” was all you managed to say.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, leaning against the desk. You had time to small talk, giving as you were finished long before anyone else. “Pretty girls like you really shouldn’t be allowed in here; it’s a safety hazard.”

“You would know all about safety hazards,” you mumbled, fighting yourself from going red from the sentiment or seeing red from the audacity. 

Regulus’ laugh seemed more guarded than usual.

“Speaking of,” you said, trying to get the conversation to safer grounds, “who do you think will definitely kill their plants at last today?”

If there was one thing you and Regulus did well, it was gossip, and you managed to derail him into chattering quietly with you instead of doing some weird dance of pushing the limits and then drawing them clearly. As you spoke, you took small, careful steps away from Regulus to put some physical distance between you, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

If you had looked him in the eye even once more before your separation to go to your next periods, you would have seen that he did.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You would have thought the Quidditch game on Friday to have been a blessing.

The tension had been growing more and more between you and your best friends, and it seemed that the more you volleyed around their pretend flirting, the more fired up they got, in each their own way. It didn’t seem sustainable anymore. 

Even Dorcas had grown weary of you, though she tried to remain supportive while urging you strongly to speak with them about it.

“And say what exactly? What could I possibly say that would not make the situation ten times worse?”

Dorcas levelled you with a look that spoke volumes, but she seemed unwilling to verbalise any of it in response. Instead she just offered you a vague, “It might go better than you could imagine.”

You must admit you had grown weary of her cryptic remarks as well.

A quidditch game gave you the perfect opportunity to have a small break from them guilt-free, seeing as they were all playing for Slytherin. In turn, you believed you gave Dorcas a break from working overtime to shield you and keep any awkward situation at bay. 

With you in the stands, cheering for your little makeshift family who were all involved in the game somehow – Regulus as Captain and seeker, Barty and Evan as beaters, Dorcas as a chaser and Pandora as commentator – you thought you could finally breathe for a moment. 

Any such hopes were shattered when Barty came chasing up beside you before you could ascend the wooden stairs to find your seat.

“Dragă! Hold up!”

The pet name sent warmth up your spine, but the sigh that escaped you was not a happy one. You turned regretfully on your heel to take in Barty’s form as he jogged up to you. His quidditch gear was tight, much more than it had any business being, seeing as he could easily make them larger with a quick spell if he wanted to. 

You didn’t ask what he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind, grin permanently plastered on his face in your presence.

“Do I not get a kiss for good luck?” He threw you a cheeky wink with his comment as he came to stand in front of you, breath slightly laboured.

“Sure you can. Regulus is right over there.” You hoped your voice sounded a bit lighthearted even in your sternness of correcting his flirting. Even more, you hoped the heat in your cheeks had not turned into any noticeable redness. 

A look at Barty’s wicked smile told you it might have. “I’ve already gotten plenty from Reggie. Now I just need my girl and I’m golden.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, at least not like that. You knew he meant a kiss on the cheek, and you knew he asked to make fun – not of you, but of the concept of good luck kisses and of your closeness as friends being read as anything else. He likely didn’t even know that you had been among those reading it as something else, this was a joke the two of you were in on, as all best friends should be.

Still, you couldn’t help but wince at the sting in your heart.

“I think you’ll do just fine without it, B.” You pressed your lips together in the same way you would if you were fighting a smile and not a frown.

He tilted his head at you, a mix of black and green strands falling into his eyes. “Have I done something that would make you want me to fall to my death? Because that is what will happen without you as my good luck charm.”

You shook your head, taking miniscule steps towards the stairs; away from him. “I’ll be a shining bright good luck charm in the stands. You’ll see me after, at the party.”

“I sure will,” he replied salaciously, but you caught the flicker in his eyes. “Wear a pretty little thing for me?”

“You know I’ll wear jeans.”

“And aren’t they a pretty little thing?” His smile grew more affectionate. “And you look good in anything, Dragă.”

“Sure.” You cleared your throat, stepping more confidently away from him. “See you later, B. Play well.”

“Just for you, baby!”

It was as if he was laying it on even thicker the more you turned his compliments away. While you never got quite used to his outspoken praise, it had been years since you embraced it and stopped fighting him on it – he didn’t seem quite pleased that you suddenly had started. Then again, Barty never liked not getting his way, so it shouldn’t surprise you.

You turned and walked back up the stairs, not turning to see whether he jogged off too or remained watching you like usual; you didn’t feel like having the pieces of your heart jumped on, and both alternatives would have resulted in nothing less.

In the stands, you settled into your usual place by the railing, seated beside Lily and Marlene, who were there to cheer on Dorcas. The two girls were the only Gryffindors you tolerated, not due to any of your own sentiments, but simply as a form of hatred by-proxy from Regulus and Barty – they were also a great opportunity to slowly edge Regulus closer towards reconciling with his brother. Though you knew in your heart that was a slow-and-steady-wins-the-race type of situation.

The game flew by and while you were relatively certain you cheered in the right places and sat with baited breath at the tense moments, you felt you were never truly present. Pandora’s voice in your ears was lulling, allowing your soul to drift out of your body and float up into the skies. You wondered if maybe you should take her up on her offer of teaching you how to meditate. Maybe that is how you end your torture rather than trying to change Barty and Regulus’ ways of being, even if it sent terribly mixed signals.

You were somehow exhausted by the time the whistle blew to announce Slytherin’s victory, despite not having done anything. 

Victory was a guarantee for a rowdy party, which, if you didn’t watch yourself, was a guarantee for mistakes. You could not risk slipping up and confessing your feelings to either boy – though some part of you whispered that perhaps some liquid courage is what you needed to tell them to stop flirting with you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

If the game had gone by in a blur for you, the party was nothing less. You lost Dorcas to Marlene’s wicked laugh just a few minutes in, and had since drifted between your many groups of friends. Shots with Evan, braiding with Pandora, armwrestling with Emmeline, gossiping with Amelia and Regulus. Throughout the whole night you had managed to keep things light, floating through the crowd and keeping someone by your side at all times. It made it bearable to be near the both of them when you had others to keep up appearances for. It also was a great distraction from the joint envy that bloomed in your heart whenever Barty paraded Regulus around like he ought to.

He tried to parade you too, but you slipped out of his grasp before he ever could.

The closer the night got to being over, the more intimate the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room grew. People migrated from standing around to sitting huddled together, there were quiet conversations and card games instead of yelling and butterbeer pong. There were less of the other house colours, and more of just the familiar greens and faces.

Meaning, it was your cue to slip out and away for a minute.

You, Regulus and Barty always ran off into some corner towards the end to do a debrief of the night, perhaps a bit tipsily. If there was one thing you couldn’t take right now, it would be that.

It was easy to distract the both of them by starting a conversation with Evan and Pandora – whether torture methods has improved or worsened since the dark ages – that would have them in a chokehold. You used the opportunity to slip out through the common room door and walk down the hallway.

It was rare you were grateful for the gloomy dungeons and their cold stonewalls, but this was one such moment. You walked slowly, alone at last, taking deep breaths. Somehow the air felt fresh despite being several metres below ground; anything was better than the stuffy post-party air that clung to the common room.

You let your right hand graze the wall as you walked, texture rough and freezing beneath your fingertips, and tipped your head back with closed eyes. You knew the way like the back of your hand.

At the end of the hall was a rarely-used classroom that functioned more as a storage room these days – your favourite place of refuge. The desk in there was the perfect size to lay down on to close your eyes and relax, feet just barely hanging off the edge. Along the top of the wall was a narrow window that gave an obscured view of the Black Lake, distorted light spilling through to make the most beautiful shapes along the ceiling.

You could stay here and relax and by the time you went back, everyone would have gone off to bed already and you wouldn’t have to face anyone until the morning.

“... Amour?”

You flinched so violently you almost fell off the desk, sitting up by propping yourself onto one elbow and clutching your chest with your other arm. “Gods, Regulus, you cannot fucking sneak up on people like that!”

“Sorry, love.” He offered you a half-hearted smile from where his head popped in through the crack in the door.

Barty’s head appeared just below his, as if he had crouched down to get the comedic angle. “I’m not, what the fuck are you doing here?”

You could hear the light squaffle behind the door as Barty presumably tried to push Regulus aside so he could walk in, while Regulus tried to hold his own to walk with grace. It resulted in them more or less tumbling in, the latter boy straightening up to close the door carefully behind him.

“Whatcha mean?” you asked dumbly, deciding to remain in your half lounged position on the desk at the top of the room.

The boys exchanged a quick look that you didn’t have the time to decipher.

Barty was the one who spoke. “I mean, how come you’re hiding out here? We have very important matters to discuss, you know.”

Your lips tightened slightly. You looked between them quietly while they came up to settle in front of your desk, Regulus deciding to lean his weight against a smaller one behind him while Barty jumped onto it without hesitation, settling into some odd position.

“Needed some fresh air. Party got too hot for me.”

“So you decided to lay down in this dusty room?” Regulus asked humorously, lifting a brow at you.

At the same time Barty commented, “I cannot imagine anything being too hot for you, Treasure.”

You ignored them both, fighting not to meet their eyes. This was going worse than you imagined.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to run off on you.” You aimed for a light-hearted tone, if a bit tired. “Want to do the debrief in here?”

Regulus hummed questioningly, as if he wanted to probe more, but Barty clapped his hands together. “Yes. You’re simply not getting out of this love, lest my bleeding heart become public knowledge as I wail at your absence.”

“Stop it, Barty,” you whispered. He didn’t hear you, in one way or another.

“Okay, so we all agree Dorcas and Marlene are shagging?”

You sit more up at this, realising you truly would be doing the whole debrief here, and that you would thus likely be here for a while. Also well aware that you know more than both of the boys on that matter, as Dorcas' dorm mate. “Well, duh,” you offer. “But did you see anything tonight?”

You look at Barty as he speaks, but can feel Regulus’ gaze burning through the side of your head, and you wish he would stop trying to scrutinise you. You look over to meet his gaze, hoping to give him an I’m fine smile that would divert his attention. However, when his eyes meet yours you see they are sparkling with that mischief that only Regulus can pull off, the kind that is equal parts elegant and dirty. He winks at you, and you really, really wish he wouldn’t. 

You shift your gaze back to Barty, further assuring his claim. “Don’t push it with Cas, though,” you warn. “She will tell you when she feels like."

“But it is so much fun to push it though,” Barty pouted, making his eyes comically big.

“It’s even more fun to not be skinned alive by Dorcas in our sleep.”

“Fine,” he groans, throwing his head back theatrically before settling you with a gaze. “But only because you asked, beautiful.”

You hum noncommitedly, fighting any prickling tears. Don’t be such a fucking twat. Let your friends speak to you. 

“Oh,” Regulus said, as if he just remembered a piece of drama to share. “Amelia flirted with me earlier.”

“She what!?” Barty’s voice was not much unlike a banshee’s. “Have I not made it clear that your arse is off the market?”

Your heart plummeted and you had to fight not to let your shoulders grow into your ears.

“Right?” Regulus said through a laugh. “I think she was just too pissed, though. Would have flirted with anything that walked.”

“What did she say?” you asked somewhat meekly.

“Oh, something about gorgeous curls and tight shirts and whatnot.” Regulus made a waving motion with his hand, as if physically brushing it off. “You know, the usual. Called me baby.”

“Only we get to call you baby,” Barty said through a pout.

We?

“I know, amour, I told her as much.”

Barty nodded emphatically. “Good. I don’t like picking fights with birds, but I would if she can’t keep her hands off the goods.”

Regulus gave his leg a light kick with his own. “Down, boy.”

Your stomach was turning over and you desperately wanted to leave. A comment about being tired and wanting to discuss the rest over breakfast tomorrow died on your tongue when Barty turned his attention to you, pout giving way for a scrutinising look.

“What about you, Dragă? Anyone else flirt with you?”

Any turning in your stomach was replaced by an irritation seeping into your bloodstream, one that had been fighting with heartbreak and anxiety for your attention for almost a month now.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, B.” You’re not sure quite what possessed you to say it, but there was no denying your dry tone.

Barty looked equally puzzled, head actually reeling backwards ever so slightly. Still, he pushed his luck. “Am I not allowed to be concerned for my girl?”

You looked at him incredulously. “I am not your girl.” 

That was the whole point. That was the whole heartbreak. That was all you could think about. They were each other’s and you weren’t theirs and you most certainly was not their girl. 

Regulus’ stance shifted quickly, tensing in weariness. “Amour, what he meant–”

“I know what he meant.” You sighed, making no effort to hide your pain anymore. You could not take this. “I know what you both mean.”

“Baby–” Barty began, sliding off of his desk and moving towards you, but you cut him off.

“No! Stop it, Barty, please.” He looked as if you had punched him. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry. I am so, so happy for you and I’m glad you’ve found each other like that. But now that you have, I just can’t take you flirting with me or, or doing the play pretend. It’s not fun anymore.”

The room was laid in silence. 

You had been defiantly staring at the wall behind them both, but after practically being able to hear the crashing out in their minds, you slid off your own desk and made your way towards the door without sparing them a glance. “I need a moment.”

“No, no, hey, hey, hey,” Barty chanted as he ran up behind you, hand circling loosely around your wrist. Enough to ground you, but not enough to trap you should you want to wrestle free. He slowly came up around your stopped form. “Shit, Y/N, I–” This time he cut himself off, running his free hand through his hair and looking over at Regulus, whose footsteps you could hear stop right behind you. 

You stared at the door over Barty’s shoulder. This was your worst nightmare.

“Amour, we’re sorry,” Regulus whispered behind you. His hand came up to ever so slightly trace the side of your arm.

You felt ganged up on where you stood between them and you cursed your body for loving it, even as they were rejecting you more explicitly than ever. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault that you don’t– you know.”

“No, no, no,” Barty chanted yet again, hands coming up to grasp both of your cheeks and bruising away a few tears you only now realised had fallen. You would never stop revelling at how Barty’s touch could be so painfully gentle even when his voice was frantic and passionate. “That’s exactly it, Dragă, we do. We do. I do.”

You met his eyes and furrowed your brows at him. “Barty, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

He had the audacity to laugh quietly at you. “I don’t think you understand what you’re saying. In what world could I, Barty Crouch Junior, not be obsessed with you?”

“Lovely girl,” Regulus whispered as he inched forward into your field of vision, hand growing more confident in its touch on your arm. “I’m sorry, we’ve gone about this all wrong. We realised it quickly, but didn’t know how to fix it. The whole... getting together part happened naturally between Barty and I, and we figured it would with you too immediately after, but it proved, uh, more complicated.”

At last, your brain caught up with you, and your instinctive reaction was to jerk backwards out of both of their grasps, not even feeling the impact of your back hitting the desk behind you. Both boys hissed at the thump that sounded.

You finally looked at both of their eyes and found layers of insecurity and guilt there, along with… 

“Are you saying…” you started, but trailed off, unsure how to formulate the words.

“I’m obsessed with you, consumed by you, enthralled by you, whatever word you please, it’s yours. I’m yours.” Barty’s face was almost impassive despite the volumes behind his confession. More tears welled in your eyes, by confusion still more than any relief – you didn’t dare feel that yet.

“What he’s saying is that – well, that we love you.” Regulus smiled and you saw the quiver of his lips at the unfamiliar words.

You let out a half-choked sound. “I don’t understand? But then why– how come–” 

Regulus took a careful few steps towards you once more, hand held out between you in a show of safety. “Even as it happened, I remember thinking you would laugh at us for it. Really what happened a month ago was just that we didn’t really think at all.”

“Which you rightfully accuse us of a lot,” Barty added.

“Right. Barty and I were together and drunk and that tension we’ve all had, I guess it finally spilled over for us. By the time we had admitted our feelings physically, we didn’t really need words for it, which is what we both struggle with the most. And you weren’t close by to be dragged into it. When we told everyone we hoped to just… smoothly join you in. Wouldn’t be difficult right, it’s always been the three of us anyway?”

“Turns out it’s not so bloody simple,” Barty grumbled.

By this point, tears were streaming clearly down your face. Regulus reached out a hesitant thumb to wipe them away. “We were stupid, amour. And by the time we got our wits about us, we didn’t know how to reign you in, other than by… continuing being us. Us three.”

“How could I feel like it was us three when it was so clearly you two?” you all but sobbed.

Barty had grown too impatient by Regulus’ easing you in and closed the gap in two long strides, grabbing at your hand fiercely. “You couldn’t, we were just stupid wankers and absolute boys. You’re perfect, it’s not your fault you fell in love with us sods.”

You laughed a bit wetly, bringing grins out on both of their faces. “Bold claim you have there,” you said, some teasing making its way into your voice.

“But an accurate one?” Regulus’ tone was void of humour, just quiet and nervous and hopeful.

“Of course,” you breathed and Barty’s hands tightened around yours. “I always thought it was us three�� when it seemed like it was just you two, I– I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

“So you ran and you hid,” Barty concluded with a nod. Upon your almost offended expression he hastily added, “as is understandable, and as asserted, we are wankers and you are perfect.”

“Stop saying that,” you whispered.

“But it’s true,” Regulus added in the same cadence. Then, a sparkle settled in his eyes as he regarded you. “Can I prove it to you?”

Your breath hitched at the implication but you nodded, ever so hopeful smile growing on your face. You dared tighten your own hold on Barty’s hands – they were delightfully warm.

Regulus’ smile matched yours and he took a final step towards you to bring the two of you together. His lips covered yours in the sweetest of kisses, slow and smooth and exactly how you had guiltily pictured. He breathed in as he kissed you and you felt the air move across your skin, tickling and tingling. When he pulled back he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek too.

“This whole thing should have never played out this way,” he started. “But this is exactly where I always wanted to end up.”

Barty bumped lightly into both of you, giving you a conspiring smile. “It’s true – he tried to brag to me that he had been picturing us three together since fifth year, which is embarrassingly late for him. I’ve pictured this since the fifth week of knowing you both.”

You huffed a laugh, feeling your entire face still burning from the confessions, neck aching from the whiplash and lips tingling from the kiss. “Then you’ve both got eons on me. I only really realised, like, last term.”

“See, that’s because you are sane,” Barty provided, circling his arms around your hips to pull both you and Regulus closer to him. “A sane beautiful girl who balances us out perfectly and who completes my heart.”

“One we will spend eons making up lost time with,” Regulus added somewhat cheekily. 

You brought your hands up to properly wipe at your face, hoping to remove redness and giddiness with the wet. “It’s barely been a month.”

“A month you spent confused and hurt, Dragă. That cannot slide. I would have hexed anyone else who did that to you.”

“No one else could have broken my heart,” you said then, intending it to be romantic.

The horrified looks on their faces said otherwise. “You were heartbroken?” Barty exclaimed in intense frustration, pulling his wand up and handing it to Regulus. “Reggie, baby, I need you to Avada me right now. Use my wand so they can’t trace you and send you to Azkaban, because you need to be her personal servant to repent for us.”

“Barty!” you laughed, quickly plucking the wand out of his hands before any shenanigans could occur. “It’s fine, really–”

“Nope, absolutely not,” he cut you off. “I must fix this. Kiss it better?”

Before you could even really respond he brought his hand up to the back of your neck, pulling your face gently albeit quickly towards his. Millimetres before his lips could crash with yours, though, he paused. Giving you the opportunity to back down. His thumb was ghosting carefully across the baby hairs at the nape of your neck.

With a delighted sigh, you leaned your chest against his and brought him the final way in for the kiss.

His lips were softer than they looked, fitting exactly within the narrative that usually followed your relationship with Barty. He quickly opened them for you, bringing your bottom lip in between yours and kissing you passionately, tongue sliding over delicate skin. One of your hands curled into his shirt by his collar, wand long since discarded on a desk, while the other found Regulus’ neck, massaging it not much unlike Barty did with yours.

Barty’s skillful lips trailed happy kisses along your jaw, turning into a smile at the breathy laugh that escaped you at his ministrations. 

Your eyes met Regulus while Barty practically attempted to bury himself beneath your skin, smiling and sighing against you – kissing it better. The former boy’s smile was at its widest and most sentimental, encircling the both of you within his arms.

“Y/N,” he said, almost seriously. “We will do right by you, as we always should have. I’ll start by asking, will you please legitimise our feelings by becoming our girlfriend?”

Before you could reply, Barty added against your neck, “And will you please take back your demand we stop flirting with you, because I don’t think I can.”

You were afraid your smile was almost dreamy – everything you believed out of reach just a few minutes ago was not quite literally cradled in your arms. “You are both so unbelievable. Yes, I’ll happily be your girlfriend and yes you may flirt with me.”

Barty popped his head back up from your neck, lips somewhat swollen despite being stretched wide. “Fucking finally.”

“You say that as if I was the one holding back,” you teased, poking him in the chest.

“And while I will lay down and take a sword to the chest for ever believing I was not mad about you,” Barty began. “I think there is also something to be said about little miss run away and completely shut away any and all feelings and compliments.”

You hummed as if in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

Regulus snorted in that way he only ever did around you two. Then, he reached out and gave you two, three kisses in a row, grinning all the while. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Too cute.”

Barty, tactile as ever, was cradling your cheek in his hand, tracing the side of your nose with his index finger. “I want the court to know that I am absolutely mad about Regulus,” he started, smiling all the while. “But it was always you too, silly.”

Emboldened, you leaned forward and gave him a sweet kiss. “Glad to know it.”

“Now let’s make sure everyone else does too, yeah?”

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 18

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 1.9k

Note : This is the last chapter (an epilogue of sorts). Thank you so much for everyone who has read this story and make this such a wonderful journey! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“My Heart Will Never Let You Go”

Two years later... 

Two years felt like both a lifetime and a blink of an eye. You stood at the threshold of your new home, boxes and furniture stacked behind you, with a view that stretched over a quiet, tree-lined street. The house wasn’t huge huge, but it was spacious enough and had tall ceilings and windows, with dark-stained hardwood floors that creaked gently as you moved through each room. It was perfect—comfortable, cosy— it was a place that felt like it was yours and Bucky’s from the moment you’d first stepped inside.

You watched as Yelena wrestled with a particularly awkward piece of furniture— a bookshelf that had somehow ended up at a wonky angle in the back of the moving van. She had a focused look on her face, her brow furrowed as she attempted to pull it free.

“Yelena, you good there?” Sam called out, grinning as he hauled two large boxes under each arm with what looked like minimal effort.

Yelena shot him a glare. “If Bruce was here, this would already be inside and probably assembled, Sam,” she snapped, wiping her forehead as she took a breather.

Clint chuckled, pausing beside Sam to lend a hand with the boxes. “I don’t think Bruce would fit in this house with his size,” he teased. “But he’s definitely missing out on this free labor.”

Alex, meanwhile, was just minding her own business, carrying little trinkets, because “she’s not a superhero” and isn't used to “doing the heavy lifting” which is utter bullshit— you’ve seen her carry crates of ancient tablets without breaking a sweat. You’d say something if not for the fact that Yelena is determined to let her “sit there and be pretty”— her words, not yours.

It was just the right balance of chaos and laughter, mixed without the friendly banter of people who had come to feel like your very own little family. All of them had given up a Saturday off to help you and Bucky settle into your new home.

Though you’d all been at it for hours, spirits remained high. The jokes were still tossed back and forth, handling the stress with an ease that people who had faced far bigger challenges could.

Inside, Bucky popped out with a grin, taking one look at the disheveled pile of boxes and furniture in the yard. He shook his head. “Are we sure we’re doing this right?” he asked skeptically as he made his way over to you, brushing a gentle hand over the dip in your waist.

“Have some faith in them,” you laughed, leaning into him slightly. It was strange, sometimes, how normal this all felt now— after all the ups and downs, the years of history between you, ones you remembered and ones you were reminded of— after all the doubts and fears that had once made a moment like this seem impossible.

As Yelena, Clint, Alex, and Sam worked their way inside, carrying boxes and arguing about whose arrangement strategy was best, you watched the growing pile of belongings grow and grow. It had taken time to get to this place— not just physically, but emotionally (who knew getting a property was hard? Bucky didn’t. Back then, houses cost next to nothing.)

There had been moments when you thought you might never get here, when doubts had grown too large. But Bucky had been patient. He had earned your trust, and little by little, you’d both found ways to rebuild.

Yelena finally made it into the living room with the bookshelf with a triumphant glee as she wedged it into place beside the fireplace. “See?” she announced proudly. “Teamwork.” She gave Clint a high five, nudging Sam out of the way to start helping Alex arrange the boxes currently stacked in a vaguely organised pile.

Clint set down the coffee table he and Sam had carried in, smiling as he looked around the room. “Well, I guess you’re officially grown-ups now,” he joked. “A house in the suburbs, boxes stacked to the ceiling…next thing you know, you’ll be mowing the lawn every Saturday and taking Alpine to the vet for check-ups monthly.”

Alpine, your white cat who’d stolen both yours and Bucky’s hearts, sat curled up on the carpet near the door, watching the activity with mild disinterest. Her tail flicked occasionally, and you smiled at her, remembering when Bucky had first brought her home one rainy night not long after you’d first moved in together. She’d been a little ball of fluff— shy and skittish and hated human touch, but over time she’d come to love affection and crave attention, much like the two of you had done with each other.

“Alpine’s probably relieved to be out of our cramped apartment,” Bucky said, moving to scratch her behind the ears. She looked up at him, unfazed by the chaos around her.

Sam plopped down on the sofa, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “So we’ve done the heavy lifting,” he said, stretching out his arms dramatically. “Time for pizza.”

Alex rolled her eyes but smiled, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a stack of pizzas she’d ordered on her way over. “Bird man wouldn’t shut up about food the whole way here,” she said, passing out plates.

As everyone settled around the small coffee table, pizza slices in hand, everything felt… right. You started telling stories again, with Yelena recounting the time he’d accidentally shot himself in the foot during a mission—“It was supposed to be a warning shot, okay?”—and Clint giving you a hard time about his tendency to get into mischief on missions. 

Bucky caught your eye across the room, his eyebrows softening as he watched you laugh with the others. You could see it all in his eyes—the shared memories, the nights you’d spent patching each other up after long missions, the sunny mornings filled with intense conversations and coffee, the slow rebuilding of trust that had led you both here. You smiled back at him, a word less thank you for everything that had come before this.

When the others started discussing the best way to hang your artwork and where the photos should go (Alex would know best), Bucky nudged you gently, nodding toward the front porch. You stepped outside together, leaving the laughter behind for a few quiet minutes.

The sun was setting, blanketing a golden glow over your suburban neighborhood.

You leaned against the railing, watching your new street— the sound of distant lawnmowers and birdsong filling the evening air, kids playing with their bikes. When Bucky joined you, his arm brushed against yours, he kissed your temple briefly.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the trees that lined the street, the leaves beginning to turn orange with the start of fall.

“Yeah,” you replied, letting the breeze move your hair, “It’s more than nice. It’s…it’s everything I didn’t think we’d ever have.”

He nodded, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “I never thought we’d have it, either,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Two years ago… I didn’t think I deserved it. But you… you made me believe I could. You’ve been so patient with me.”

You squeezed his hand, your eyes soft as you looked at him. “You earned it, Bucky. We both did,” you told him, “It hasn’t been easy, but you never gave up, even when things got… bad.”

He smiled, a bit of the old hesitation still there, but not much. It had been tempered by comfort and confidence, the kind that had to come with time and healing. “It was worth it,” He gestured to the house behind you, the cosy life you’d built together, “because it got us here.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, appreciating the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze and the laughter drifting from inside as Yelena and Clint argued over whether the bookshelf belonged against the far wall or by the window.

“You know, getting was the last thing I imagined for us back then,” you said, an amused laugh escaping as you remembered. “I was scared we wouldn’t make it a few more months, at one point.”

“I didn’t make it easy, did I?” Bucky chuckled, nodding. “But you kept giving me chances, and…I— I just couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek. “I don’t regret any of it.” You whispered, “We’re here, together, and that’s all that matters.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. For what felt like a long time, you just stood there, taking it all in— the subtle chirps of life around you, the distant sound of voices and laughter inside, and the steady arms of then love if your life beside you.

Eventually, the front door swung open, and Alex appeared, hands on her hips, grinning at the sight of you both. “Come on, lovebirds,” she beckoned you both in, “We’re not done in here yet!”

With a laugh, you pulled away from Bucky, looking up at him with a sparkling smile. “Let’s get back to work.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand before letting you lead him back inside. The others had cleared more space in the living room, arranging the furniture and unpacking boxes. As you joined in, the rest of the afternoon passed quickly in a happy blur of new memories. Suddenly, the ones you’ve lost seem insignificant.

As the evening wore on, your friends began to pour out, each one leaving with a hug and a promise to visit soon. By the time the last of the boxes were unpacked and the furniture finally found its place, the house was almost dead silent, save for Alpine’s adorable purrs as she claimed her new favorite spot by the window.

Bucky draped an arm around you, then lines on his face tired but content. He looked around the room, processing the cosy, lived-in feel of the space you’d created together. “Well,” he said softly, “looks like we’re officially moved in.”

You leaned into him, nuzzling into his shoulders, a smile spreading across your face. “We did it.”

Later that night, after the last box had been stashed in the closet and the house had settled into a peaceful rhythm, Bucky found himself standing by the small dresser in the bedroom. His hand hovered over the top drawer, his heart picking up speed as he slowly pulled it open. Nestled in the back, hidden under a stack of socks, was a small, tiny velvet box.

He carefully lifted it out. He’d picked the ring out months ago with help from Alex and Yelena. Now, he was just waiting for the right time. And tonight, standing in your new home together, he felt closer than ever to the moment when he’d finally be able to give it to you.

He tucked it back into the drawer with a sheepish private, feeling an electric anticipation racing on his veins. Soon. 

Very soon.

So made his way back to you.

You were curled up on the couch, half-asleep but smiling when you felt him dip the couch beside you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. As you drifted to sleep in his arms, he held you close, knowing that in this home, he’d found everything he’d ever been searching for.

-end.

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[solalunar-eclipse]

No-Way Mirror

Inspired by this fantastic comic and a conversation I had with the talented @sharpedgedfool.

TW: blood, minor punctures, brief mention of the sensation of blood being drawn (and of course blood drinking)

Also available to read on AO3!

(This was mostly written before my hiatus began, I just wanted to finish editing it in a semi-reasonable timeframe, ahaha.)

...

Shadow continued to smile wryly after his admission, allowing himself a faint laugh. “The best part is,” he continued, “I can’t even begin to imagine how a vampire would go unnoticed for any length of time. Their teeth are massive, surely anyone bitten by them would scream and get them caught almost immediately?”

What Sonic said next came as a bit of a surprise. “I could show you, if you want.”

Shadow glanced over in confusion, finding that same self-confident smirk still on Sonic’s face. “What?”

“I can show you what a vampire’s bite actually feels like.” he explained, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

Ah. That made more sense. Shadow rolled his eyes. Sonic was probably trying to goad him into a fight of some sort or another—or perhaps even being flirtatious. He did tend to match Rouge’s energy at times, though this was the first instance Shadow had noticed where he had done so without the bat being directly present.

Well, he had been at the party for a while anyway, and he was tired enough of socializing that he was willing to humor Sonic, for his own entertainment if nothing else.

He pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened, and Shadow took a bit of pride in having thrown off his companion. “Really? I mean, heck yeah, man!” Sonic grinned, leading him towards the back of the house. This wasn’t his place, it was Amy’s, meaning both that Sonic probably knew it almost as well as his own and that Shadow was distinctly less willing to tear it up than he might have been if it were Sonic’s home.

Once they’d made their way down the hall and into a side room, Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at Sonic. “So, what’s this ‘vampire bite’ supposed to feel like, exactly?”

Instead of replying, Sonic took a deep breath, steadying himself—

—and then lunged.

Shadow was practically thrown backwards, only catching himself half upright on the desk that happened to be by the window. A sharp, pinching pain radiated from his neck, but it soon settled down into a duller yet persistent ache.

Had that moron actually gone and bitten him as a joke?!

For a fraction of a second, Shadow was prepared to tear into Sonic, both verbally and also physically if necessary, but then he noticed something else that left his limbs feeling oddly as if they’d been filled with lead.

The teeth currently buried in his neck were…very sharp. And, now that he was thinking about it, very long, especially for a hedgehog that hadn’t been genetically modified like him. Shadow had gotten his blood drawn enough times in his life to know what the sensation of blood leaving his body felt like, and he could also feel that in his veins.

Okay. New assessment of the situation. Sonic was, quite possibly, an actual vampire. Which meant that vampires were real. And Sonic was currently drinking his blood.

Shadow wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. He didn’t exactly want to try and rip two vampire fangs out of his neck—while he would heal fast enough that his health wouldn’t be a concern, it would hurt a hell of a lot worse than it currently did.

Thankfully, before he could think much farther than that, Sonic seemed to rouse himself slightly. He shifted a little, exhaled against Shadow’s neck (and wasn’t that a whole host of other things the hybrid would prefer to never unpack), and then slowly retracted his teeth.

Almost nervously, Sonic took a few steps backwards, his lips stained a green that would normally have been only a shade or two lighter than his eyes. Right now, though, his irises burned as crimson as Shadow’s. That was a little odd considering he hadn’t just consumed red blood, but Shadow had already been made quite pointedly aware that his knowledge about vampires was severely lacking.

“Um.” Sonic said, the picture of eloquence as always. “…I kinda expected you to throw me through a window by now.”

Shadow blinked. “Why?”

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause I just bit ya and drank your blood for a solid ten seconds?” Sonic shot back, but his raised quills made the comment seem less like a quip and more like an accusation. Accusing who, the hybrid hedgehog wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I…just can’t find it in myself to be all that bothered,” Shadow said, still feeling a bit distant and bewildered.

Sonic frowned, stepping forward again to look more closely at Shadow. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t take enough for you to be dealing with blood loss, but you seem kinda out of it.”

Shadow looked away, paying a little more attention to how he was feeling for a moment. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.” he explained softly. “I was already beginning to feel a bit strained from the party, and this is…not bad, necessarily, just a lot to process on top of all that.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Sonic looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Shadow didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him that way.

“Here,” he offered, “why don’t you walk me home? That way I have more time to ask you some questions in a place that isn’t keeping either of us cooped up.” A place that isn’t keeping you from stretching your legs, Shadow didn’t say, but heavily implied.

A soft half-smile, so unlike his usual cocky smirks, spread across Sonic’s face. “That sounds great, honestly.”

The two of them left through the back door, each texting their friends to let them know that they were leaving early. Despite the fact that Sonic had a lot more people to message, he finished at about the same time as Shadow, given that he was rather less concerned about any minor spelling errors and tended to type much more quickly.

They walked in silence together for a little while, Shadow gratefully taking the time to process what had happened.

So, Sonic’s a vampire. What now?

…well, do I really even have to do anything? Sure, he drinks blood, but he has far too strict of a moral code to actually hurt anyone permanently. And he’s been a vampire this entire time, long before I knew, and there haven’t been any problems, so…I suppose this doesn’t really change much at all.

It seemed the silence was too good to last, though, because Sonic spoke up. “Hey, uh…sorry. About drinkin’ your blood a little, back there. I really figured you’d, like, punch me in the face or Chaos Blast me off or something.”

Shadow blinked, drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, and accidentally said the first thing that came to mind. “I honestly forgot I could do that.”

Sonic let out a laugh that was half genuine, half disbelieving. “You forgot? How’d you forget about the thing that literally only you can do?”

“I just did.” Shadow insisted, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. “And if you’re so sorry about it, then why didn’t you pull off as soon as you realized I wasn’t reacting?”

“I didn’t think I’d even get that far, really.” Sonic shrugged, and Shadow shot him a half-hearted glare.

“It wasn’t a date, Sonic, it was you biting my neck.” he retorted flatly.

The blue hero laughed again, this time a proper unrestrained cackle. “Aw, what, should I take you out to dinner next time first?”

Shadow nearly stopped walking, only just catching himself. “Maybe I ought to bite you ‘next time’, we’ll see how you like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you wouldn’t bite lil’ old me, would you?” Sonic batted his eyelashes innocently, his fanged grin completely undercutting the image he was trying to portray.

Shadow had a feeling that Sonic was hoping to goad him into insisting that he would, so instead he tried a different tack, looking to throw the other off. “I suppose you’re right, given that I’m a vegetarian.” he said, adding a pointed, “unlike somebody currently present.”

Sonic abruptly started pouting, an expression Shadow didn’t often see on his face. “Hey, normally I’d just snag a few blood bags from the hospital! That’s at least better, right?”

“You what.” This time Shadow actually did stop walking.

The sharp tone of his voice alone had Sonic freezing mid-stride as well. “I mean, it—it’s not really that many! And I only take the ones that’re gonna expire, I swear!” He held his hands up defensively.

The hybrid let out a sigh. “Still, people might need those. Frankly, I’d rather have you bite me again than keep on raiding hospitals.”

Sonic’s uncharacteristic silence made Shadow hesitate. He looked at the vampire properly, only to see him wearing an expression that looked a little like someone had just smacked him with a live fish.

“You’d let me feed from you? Like, for real?” he asked, blinking and shaking his head as if to make sure he hadn’t just imagined Shadow’s words.

“I would.” Shadow insisted. “I can regenerate blood much more quickly than most people, so you might even be able to take more than you could from a hospital’s blood stores. It’s a win-win. You get a meal without the theft and uncertainty, and I get to know that you’re not stealing from hospitals anymore.”

Sonic stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, before smiling more genuinely than he had throughout the entire rest of the night. “I’d—I’d honestly really appreciate that.” he said, rocking back on his heels.

Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll send you a message at some point to schedule a time, then, unless you get hungry soon. If so, you can text me—but don’t pretend to be hungry when you’re not!” he added quickly. “I’ll be able to figure it out if you do.”

“Cross my heart, I won’t!” Sonic said, doing the associated motion for bonus effect and adding a wink at the end. Clearly religious symbols (at least from human traditions) weren’t as good at dispelling vampires as they were made out to be.

“You’d better not.” Shadow scoffed lightly. “Now then, where—” he continued, looking around for a street sign, only to realize— “oh. This is my street.”

The vampire frowned unhappily. “Aw man, already?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again before long.”

It was almost comical how quickly Sonic perked up. “Hey, good point! I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round soon, Shads!”

He dashed off before Shadow could even begin the sentence “Don’t call me that,” which was heard only by the empty space around him.

Shadow let out a tired sigh, and walked the last few meters to the front door of the building where Rouge’s apartment was. The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slightly odd look, but he paid them no mind as he stepped into the elevator, allowing himself to lean against the back wall only once the doors were closed.

He shut his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t regret making that offer, not one bit, but if every subsequent vampire encounter was going to be as draining (pun not intended) as this one had been, he might need to schedule them even more carefully than he’d originally thought.

Once the elevator arrived at the correct floor, he shuffled over to the apartment door and unlocked it with practiced ease, stepping inside and instantly beginning to shed his costume. It was only once he’d removed his cape that he caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a double-take.

There was an acid-green stain on the right shoulder of his shirt, marring the pristine white material. Shadow stepped closer to the mirror and took a closer look. Indeed, there were two puncture holes in the shirt’s neck on that side, showing exactly what had caused the stain.

Sonic had probably gotten saliva on his nice shirt too, the idiot. Shadow huffed in mild irritation as he pulled it off, heading to his room to hide the damage. He would see if it was salvageable tomorrow.

If not, then it seemed that he would be insisting upon a suitable replacement from Sonic the moment that vampire scheduled his first feeding session.

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I said it on my reblog of the original comic, but I’ll say it again here as well—if you liked this, then please check out Orion’s Fleetway and Shadow series! It’s very similar, very well-written, and much longer than this small piece.

[prongsandpetals]

no one asked for this but i’m saying it anyway because i am tired of this grandpa.

i dont hate jegulus or their shippers. personally, it doesnt make sense to me and my moral compass trickles into fiction meaning i dont have much interest in any of the slytherins. it could also be the fact that when people would create oc’s for james in their fics 10 yrs ago and made lily a raging bitch id be fighting them all in the comments- a fight or flight response that now has spread to jegulus- but thats neither here nor there. it brings people joy and they are fictional characters, and it doesnt physically hurt anyone!

but there is something to be said about some of the less savoury implications it has had on the fandom. it feels as though jily is in its own subfandom sort of pushed to the side, leaving two mlm ships to dominate. unfortunately a lottt of female characters have been forgotten or pushed aside because of this. a lot of people who joined the fandom not that long ago either dont know or forget that this fandom was not built on either wolfstar (who i love), or jegulus. yes, they popularised them, but this fandom has revolved around jily for over 10 years. not to mention many of these fics were written from lilys pov, meaning there was so much more depth put into the girls characters. to erase this is to erase the fandoms history.

the diversifying of characters is something amazing that has come more recently with the popularisation of the fandom and thats one of the good parts!! however if someone still views aaron taylor johnson as their james, that doesn’t make them a racist - the man has been james since at least 2006.

another (smaller) thing ive seen is someone will post a song or a photo and attribute it to a jily moment with harry that we can realistically see happening canonically and a comment will say something along the lines of: “this but its how james felt when regulus (insert something that did not happen here)” idk if its the autism but god those always get me a little bit, especially when it includes harry.

similarly, it feels as though people who ship jily are assumed to be less progressive. as a lesbian jily shipper i can’t disagree more. just because a ship is a straight ship does not make it a bad ship - i think we can all agree there are so many amazing LGBTQ+ ships out there now for everyone to enjoy. it does feel quite strange to me to place the two characters who created the child that there are seven books about into different ships, but people like them so its chill!! but when its just complete eradication or discontent with the canon ship… ;(

i also think that to have jegulus be endgame (except aus), a lot of james’s insanely important character traits literally HAVE to be erased. his hatred for death eaters and fight for justice, his unending loyalty to his friends - especially sirius- his black and white view on right and wrong, all of these traits become warped and stretched when it comes to jegulus. of course there isnt much canon to go off of so when people disregard it entirely i can understand it to a degree. but when you erase the important canon points we have on their characters, we are basically just creating oc’s with real characters names.

another thing that i find irksome is the fetishisation of these mlm ships- if youre gonna ship two men together do it right!! why are you calling regulus a cute little baby victim and james a big strong protector!! let them be complex and messy or dont do it at all! not to mention the erasure of a lot of wlw ships... lowkey gives girl who has gay boy best friend that thinks lesbians are weird… anyways off topic! ive heard people say its not fetishisation, its because the female characters arent written with depth- that’s why people read jegulus and wolfstar! okay? go give the girls some depth? regulus is a character we basically know nothing about canonically and youve turned him into a fully fleshed character who is now a lot of peoples favourite - it can be done with the girls too. there is such emphasis placed on wolfstar and jegulus for their deep, tragic love stories - and the marauders friendship in general. the gryffindor girls are right there. dorlene is right there. marylene is right there.

and if it truly werent fetishisation, i would argue that it can be a romanticisation of toxic relationships. a lot of people dislike jily because there is no “angst”. the angst is fighting in a war at 21 years old. the angst is lily and james’s differing blood statuses and the implications this has on their lives. the angst is having a prophecy hanging over their unborn child’s head that forces them into hiding. the angst is being betrayed by their best friend, leading them to sacrifice themselves for their family and the wizarding world. the angst is literally right there, but because their relationship is healthy and happy- one of the only things in their lives that is not full of pain- they are deemed boring.

again, i dont hate jegulus. i especially dont dislike anyone who likes the ship and gets something out of it. but there is so much change this fandom has gone through since their introduction and popularisation that has made interacting with the fandom as a whole almost unbearable sometimes, and thats what i do hate.

all in all, multishippers definitely have the most fun.

[feng-shui71]

Hey there ol buddy ol pal. LOVING your Wesker OC x canon. Adoring it even. I kick my feet for every new post about them I see.

I'm DYING to know what happened to Jordan after Wesker's death in RE5, or if you believe Wesker made it out alive and picked her up covered in lava a week later.

AHHH THANK YOU OF COURSE small warning it’s extremely long, it covers the end of Re5 as well. I added drawings at the end, skip to those if you’re not willing to read this entire ramble I went on ^^ work is under the cut as usual. Not proofread:

Okay so first of all right after Re5 she’s devastated. She’s on the helicopter cradling her head in her hands as everyone else is relieved that Wesker is finally dead. She knows he deserves it, she knows it’s just years worth of built up karma coming back to bite him in the ass, she should be happy. Wesker is an evil, evil man, she really shouldn’t be in love with him after everything, hell, he’s even hurt her, both unintentionally or not. But despite this, despite everything, she does, she always did and god it hurts like a bitch. It feels like the aftermath of Arklay all over again, except this time he’s gone, for real this time. She will never help him up in the morning, raking her fingers through his blond locks, styling it into pristine slicked back pompadour. She will never hear his smooth crooning voice that always managed to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She’s left heartbroken once more, without her husband, and her children, without a father.

The ride back is extremely tense. Chris and Jordan refuse to speak to eachother, resentment between the two parties forbidding them to do so. They’re both relieved, don’t get me wrong, they’re best friends, however they’re both pissed. Chris feels betrayed, Jordan had been presumed dead since before the Spencer Mansion Incident, but low and behold she’d been alive this whole time?? with HIM?? he knew she acted a bit too eager to hunt him down. The B.S.A.A. shouldn’t have sent her. To top it off, the fact she hadn’t even tried to help Jill? try to get ahold of him? anyone? It made him mad just thinking about it. Jordan on the other hand, is going through a whirlwind of emotions right now. She’s enraged at Chris, hell, he just killed her husband, however guilt, guilt is really what’s gnawing at her brain right now, especially since she’s trapped in a chopper for however long while everyone inside of it is beyond pissed at her. The first thing she does is apologize profusely to Jill, whom the other accepts very reluctantly, probably only because Jordan would talk to her P30 puppet every so often. When you’re alone almost 24/7 missing your friends and family it’d only be natural to try to talk to one of them since they’re in the vicinity, albeit a hollow shell of them.

Half of these conversations were tear-filled apologies, choked sobs as Jordan held Jill’s cold face, wishing she could do something about it. Other times Jordan would sit down and try to talk to her, catch her up on how her day was going, try to see if she could pull the old Jill out of her, conversations about S.T.A.R.S. and such were common here. Going over memories of a past life. Jill doesn’t blame Jordan for it, hell, the memory is foggy, but the first time Wesker had brought Jill into that wretched facility the two had gotten into a huge fight over it, the woman exclaiming how this was unacceptable and cruel, there is a line with Wesker’s plans that she’s willing to put up with, however Jill’s enslavement is one of them. The entire eugenics project itself had already put him on thin ice. Every single argument over Jill after that, Jordan’s arms were laced with bruises and things of that sort, Wesker by all means never hit her physically, however his iron grasp sure did leave a mark. Jill shivers at the memory upon recollection.

Overall Jordan is a complete mess, her last few years had been .. pretty horrible to say the least but at the very least she always had her Albert there with her. Adjusting to life after him is extremely hard for her as Wesker manipulated her into codependency, she falls back into her self destructive habits that she’d long since weened off after her initial reunion with Wesker. Excessive smoking, whether it be weed or a pack of Marlboro blues, a lot of her time is spent out on the porch chainsmoking. This habit extends to alcohol as well, hard hitters such as Tequila or Whiskey. Hangovers are now a common occurance as she rots in her bed, sometimes waking up with her hand reaching over on the other side, only for it to be cold and empty. Barry and Jaiden try their best to visit, try to get her out the house to break her isolation. Jaiden spends days on end sleeping over just to keep his sister company, sometimes he feels like he failed her, he should’ve been there for her more. It puts a horrible taste in his mouth to see his once very charismatic and extroverted sister become so.. broken, her light dimmed from everything that has happened to her. Jordan has a headstone made for Wesker and buries an empty casket in his bodys place, just to keep his memory alive. Every weekend she picks up his favourites: a bottle of Pinot Noir, Jack Daniels and some primroses from the local flowershop down the street. She sits against it , adorning the resting place with the flowers and alcohol, and just talks about her day, as if he’s still there. Over time she starts to feel better, starts to move on and reconnect with her loved ones again, reconnect with Chris and Jill. However this weekly visit is the only thing from her mourning period that carries over. She loves him, she really does.

That’s what like .. mainly happens if we’re sticking to the canon, where he’s actually y’neow, fucking dead. However let’s say he isn’t:

A few weeks after the events of Re5, Wesker shows up to her humble abode covered in ash and igneous rock. He’s injured all over and honestly not doing too good, every move of his muscles is excruciating and lacerations cover his body from head to toe. Jordan is extremely shocked and relieved to see him, yet harbors feelings of anger. Like, yeah you deserved that you idiot, what were you thinking? despite this, her love towards him makes her stay, helping to rehabilitate him. Wesker however, is kinda pissed and also! extremely humiliated. His plans are foiled once again by that fucking Redfield and to top it all off, he’s being nursed back to health as if he were a kicked puppy. I like to think during all of this, Wesker learns some emotional maturity, everything starts to click for him. For once in his life he actually starts to feel .. guilt, he feels sorry, time after time he’d put Jordan through hell, yet here she was, with him. It really makes him stop and reflect. He starts to atone for his sins, trying his best to treat Jordan better, whether it be biting his tongue to not say some ill-mannered quip or just surprising her with her favourite flowers; hydrangeas and roses. I like to think after Re5 if Wesker survives they live a simple domestic life, no more grandiose plans or fighting bioterrorism for either of them. Being with each other is enough.

Oh also Wesker still probably has control of Uroboros, I think he uses it to do things when he’s too lazy, like grabbing the remote when he’s couch-locked. When they’re sleeping they wrap around her without him realizing. Jordan gave each and every tendril a name also, one of them is named Paul. Paul is her favourite.

doodles:

[she-whatshername]

Lolol I had my first sibling fight in years and now I’m like “what would the marked ones do if their SO for in an argument with a sibling”

Garrick

Wouldn’t know what to do honestly

Would probably crack a joke to lighten the mood

Eventually would jump in and pull you away if things got really bad

Would completely take care of you once you’re out of that situation

And once he knows the dynamics of the situation with your sibling he’s making sure it never happens again

He’s in full protective mode

Bodhi

He’s observing at first but the moment your sibling says anything that he knows would hurt your feelings he’s getting in there to defend you

No questions asked, he just knows it’s time to intervene

And I think that’s what I like about Bodhi. With Garrick I think he’s really good a playing both sides and thinking long term about when he intervenes with Xaden and knows how to play a good long game. He’d be the best person to plan revenge with

But Bodhis like “fuck it. My love needs me and I don’t care how foolish I look or what anyone thinks, I will defend them”

Like, okay sir

He’s pulling you away and helping you calm down. He’s on your side validating your anger or wiping your tears away

You’re staying with him tonight

And if your sibling comes around to apologize he’s the first one to say “they don’t want to talk to you”

Ugh he truly is the best

Xaden

…

I’m sorry he’s like down the middle for me

I think he doesn’t understand the complexities of sibling relationships.

And for how he poorly handled his ex with Violet, he’s on my naughty list (for the wrong reasons lolol)

I think he’d be like “they don’t need my help” and would let you argue with your sibling, even if things get really bad

He just thinks you can handle it and doesn’t want to step in unless you call for his help

Eventually someone is tapping him on the shoulder like “go get your partner”

And then he’s dragging you away and taking care of you

If you’re honest with him that you need him to step in he’s committed to it

And if you and your sibling go at it again he’s stepping in and not messing around

Petty Riorson is ready to verbally or physically thrown down for you

And yes to petty, this man knows how to read someone and would probably throw out a witty verbal insult that would just end the fight right there lolol

Xaden really is the 💅🏾 emoji at his core

Liam

He’s such a golden retriever

But he protects

He would absolutely step in and shut that down real quick

Loyal this man is. No one is making you feel less than on his watch

Period

Imogen

she’s throwing hands and the argument turns from you fighting your sibling to you saving your sibling from Imogen.

You end up having to calm them down after the fight lolol

[inevitably-johnlocked]

What's Been Going On.

Hey gang.

First off, before I make a cut, I just want to thank y'all for your patience and understanding the past couple months with my... distinct lack of interesting posting. I really appreciate it. I spend so much time here that I tend to eventually burn out and then feel bad when I physically can't provide y'all with new stuff. I love this blog and the community here, and I'm grateful that y'all are so understanding.

The TL;DR for those who aren't able to read below the cut due to the content warnings: I've lost 2 relatives in the past couple weeks, and one of them hit me very hard. I am sad, but I am trying my best to carry on. It will hurt for awhile, and I'm not okay right now, but I will be... I always am.

Below the cut, cw for descriptions of deaths, cancer, depression.

So, as I mentioned, I lost two family members in two weeks, almost exactly a week apart from each other. One, my youngest aunt (dad's sister) who I wasn't close with but I saw occasionally, from a sudden heart attack. The second, a little over a week later, was my uncle (dad's brother and my godfather) after a LONG battle with various cancers but the final one was leukaemia, and he passed away this past Monday. This is the one that hit me like a freight train because I was very close with this uncle.

For context, PRIOR to all of this, I haven't been sleeping well since just before the time change for some reason – so about a month or two. I just can't sleep through a whole night anymore, and it's frustrating and leaving me exhausted for weeks on end (the insomnia is important to note and it will be relevant in a sec).

Last year I think it was, maybe the year before, my uncle was diagnosed with throat cancer. He had undergone months of radiation and it went into remission. Then about a year or so, it came back as a different cancer, but I can't remember which one it was. Half a year ago, he got leukaemia, and was undergoing chemo and blood platelet replacement therapy for a few months.

On Remembrance Day weekend (November 11), the family found out that there was nothing more they could do for my uncle's treatments. This was devastating news for all of us to hear. Of course we hoped he would be okay until after Christmas, but his prognosis was already less-than-2-months after that revelation.

A week later, my aunt passed away suddenly. No pre-conditions other than probably being overweight and a heavy smoker, but my cousin (her 17-year-old daughter) found her in her room. I am closer with the cousin than the aunt, so I was texted by one of my other aunts at 2am Friday morning to talk to my cousin, since I have gone through a traumatic sudden-death of a parent and this cousin trusts and relates to me. And the only reason I saw the text was because I was already awake due to my insomnia. I called the cousin and stayed on the phone for 6 hours with her to ensure she was going to be okay. I took the day off work to sleep.

Exactly a week later, my uncle was rushed to the hospital with a brain bleed and pneumonia. I was texted by a DIFFERENT aunt, this one being the one I am closest to and knows how close I am to my uncle, last Thursday. I found out on the Friday I took off of work that he wasn't going to get better, that the bleed was essentially killing him slowly.

This uncle, for outsider understanding, essentially became a second father to me after my dad died and I moved to be closer to his family. He became the parent my mother wasn't. This uncle ensured I was always okay, and would drop everything for me. So to say I was devastated to learn that I was losing him forever brought up a lot of core memories from when my dad died is an understatement. First, my aunt dying young, like my dad, from a sudden heart attack, like my dad. Then my father figure in my life dying shortly after? Lots of turmoil this past couple weeks for me.

On Sunday, November 24, I said my final goodbye to my uncle, and he passed away on the 25th. It hurts so badly that I want to scream non-stop. I took that Monday off to grieve, and worked from home the rest of the week to sit in my grief alone. One of the things I am so grateful for was that I was able to say goodbye to him, and to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I love him. It gave me a sense of closure that I didn't have with my dad when he died. One of my biggest regrets about my dad passing is that morning he died, I never said "I love you" like I usually did because I was running late for work.

I did not want to make that mistake again. I got to hug my uncle, and tell him I love him so, so much, and I got to thank him for always being there for me when dad died. That he helped me through my grief when I finally did break three years after he died.

I let him know he was loved; I am so grateful for that opportunity.

I miss him so much it physically hurts.

Just because his death was inevitable, it doesn't make it any easier. It feels different than my dad's death, for sure, in the sense that I lost dad too young and unexpectedly. But it still hurts to lose someone I love even if I know he's leaving us. I am just glad he's not suffering anymore; he was in immense pain when I saw him last.

So, this past week, I have been sitting in my grief, crying at mundane things because they remind me of him or things we did together. I've played video games to distract my mind, and tried my best to work on this blog, albeit at a minimum.

The surprising thing I think about this whole ordeal is the immense support I'm getting from my coworkers, and my employer's understanding about my situation. I have a job that's primarily digital, so they've let me take as much time as I need to feel up to working fully again, and I am just EXHAUSTED, but I want to try to go back to the office on Monday, to get back to the routines that make me feel comfort. Work has said that if I'm having a hard time I can go back home, which, again, is so generous. I was at a different job when my dad died, and they didn't want me gone more than a week. This has been literally 2 weeks non stop of me working / not working / working from home..... I just cannot wait until Christmas break so I can finally just REST. I am extremely lucky to have the job I have, and I am very aware of that. The fact that they're letting me have more grievance leave than normal for a non-immediate family member boggles my mind, but again, I am grateful.

So yeah, that's what's been going on with me the past couple months. It's been chaotic, I'm tired, and very very lonely. AND to top it all off, I'm feeling my seasonal depression seeping in earlier than normal because of all this stress and anxiety, and I just... ugh. I need to get back to routine.

This is also why I'm doing the Christmas cards this year... because I want to have a bit of happiness this holiday season in what will probably be even more depressing than normal. My Dad's death-iversary is on January 11, and will be 17 years since his passing. It will be harder to cope with this year more than ever now, I think. Best I can do is continue to talk to my therapist to keep me from sinking further, and not bottle everything all up like I did 17 years ago.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding. I haven't been "feeling it" these past couple months, and I know it shows in the lack of content I've been posting or producing. But I am so grateful to this community for understanding without the context y'all didn't have before now, and I hope you guys understand that I won't feel like myself again for awhile.

I'll try my best, though.

Love y'all. 💜

[asoulwithadream]

Proof of why Hozier pre-read the Good Omens S2 scripts and made Unreal Unearth based on it.

The song is very obviously "Crowley", as will be explained in this analysis that was very much not fueled by overconsumption of sugary pastries. You may believe that there is one line that does recall Aziraphale more than our loveable sad demon, however I do have a theoretical explanation for that to maintain the strictly demonic narrator. This song, much like its original meaning, is about how he feels betrayed and tricked, or at least, deluded by his own hopes.

You know the distance never made a difference to me. This is the metaphorical distance between them, as angel and demon. They’re considered the opposite of each other. Good and bad. The locations of their respective headquarters, (the basement and the top of the building) is also a physical show of the distance between the two in management and creature type.

I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea The lyrics say that he “SWAM” past-tense, so this would refer to actual things Crowley has done: he did step into a whirlwind of Hellfire disguised as Aziraphale, right? And he did run into a burning bookshop for him. Metaphorically, he did swim through a lot of fire. Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen and all that we believe Crowley believes that what he thought their relationship was (“us”), in the end, was just his own imagination or fantasy of what he wanted them to be. So I thought you were like an angel to me This is one of my favourite parallels in the song, due to the changing definition of “angel” throughout the song, and how it’s used in the phrasing. Here, “angel” becomes the goodness and kindness that Crowley sees in Aziraphale; how angels are traditionally viewed by humanity. Then, he adds “to me”, alluding to their special relationship, different from the usual angel/demon relations between Heaven and Hell. He thought that Aziraphale had been, was, and would be, good and kind, to him.

Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy To not only Crowley, but most beings, the secrecy here is God’s Ineffable Plan™, and the darkness is the Metatron’s manipulative meddling. In light of fulfilling it (through the Second Coming), Aziraphale shows his true colours by siding with the angels. If there were scarlet flags, they washed out in the mind of me Crowley justifies putting Aziraphale on a pedestal that “he didn’t deserve” (because of said betrayal) because he was so blinded by love and hope, that he couldn’t realise the extent of Aziraphale’s religious trauma and character. Where a blinding light shone on you every night and either side of my sleep In the Divine Comedy, Dante is blinded by light in order to see God. Aziraphale has been systematically coerced into siding with Heaven, and this blinding light is what he sees as his destiny and responsibility to the world and to God’s Plan™. I wouldn’t doubt that Crowley would have nightmares of this, considering that he canonically does sleep. Where you were held frozen like an angel to me Here is the second parallel of the term “angel”. Angel has now become what demons see angels like: cold, callous creatures, only different from demons by look and power. Aziraphale trapped himself (or “held” himself “frozen”) in his vision of a grander future, encouraged by the Metatron, which made him become distant and cold to Crowley in the time-span of a poorly-timed confession.

It ain't the being alone (sha-la-la) Here begins a part where Crowley seems to try convince both Aziraphale and himself that some of the consequences of the divorce don't really affect him, to emphasise the LAST effect, as will be explained below. Thus, being alone is a big part of being Hell’s representative on Earth, so that wouldn’t be the biggest hurt that Crowley experiences post-divorce. It ain't the empty home, baby (sha-la-la) Though I can imagine that the bookshop without Aziraphale is not the same, he could still find some nostalgic comfort in the place. And after all, it's as cold as his own apartment now. You know I'm good on my own (sha-la-la), sha-la-la, baby Crowley repeating the fact that he's alone. He reminds Aziraphale that he really doesn't care being by himself, maybe trying to get a jab at the angel by showing that "Us" can just be Crowley if h wants to. You know, it's more the being unknown So much of the living, love, is the being unknown What I believe hurt Crowley the most about the entire situation is that he thought that they knew each other and shared an incredibly special relationship given their circumstances (even if it was just platonic, and never ventured further). However, through choosing Heaven, the entire worth of their relationship seemed to shatter into pieces, as if Crowley never truly meant anything to Aziraphale, as if they were never friends. And that hurts particularly, because to Crowley, Aziraphale was the only one to ever truly know him.

You called me "angel" for the first time, my heart leapt from me You could very clearly read this as from Aziraphale, however, it doesn’t make as much sense in the context of the song (as being predominantly Crowley coded), so I have another theory that could explain this line, that I, truthfully, like more: - Aziraphale has, through the history of their friendship, called Crowley a variation of “nice” due to different occasions (2500 BCE, 1793, 1827, 1941, 2019, and so on…) This calls back to the first usage of angel in the song, synonymous to the traditional qualities of holy beings (nice, kind, etc). Whilst Crowley does react negatively every time Aziraphale refers to him as such, imagine being seen for the first time in a positive light by someone you thought was your enemy after being condemned and judged as pure evil forever. Maybe this was what solidified Crowley’s feelings: the realisation (or, the fabrication of a delusion) that Aziraphale was different, that he was like him, that he could see through the pre-set prejudices. You smile now, I can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth Even in the end, during the 15 Minutes, you can still see Aziraphale smile, and I believe that Crowley recognised that Aziraphale in the one that was ultimately "betraying him". Of course, now there's this entirely new side of the angel, but I believe that in these moments he’s realising that both the angel he knew, and the angel he’s meeting now, were both Aziraphale all along. And what's left of it, I listen to it tick, every tedious beat Crowley’s hanging on to the last memories before they vanish completely. Their dying relationship is like a heart about to fail, a clock saying goodnight, and whilst I can imagine that Crowley would want to distance himself to avoid getting hurt any further, he would be able to completely, especially because of the lines after the next one. Going unknown as any angel to me Aziraphale, by becoming Head Archangel, has ceremoniously become the authority of Heaven itself, one of the many things that Crowley hates the most. By doing so, Aziraphale is now part of the group of angels that Crowley has as the second definition of “angel”. The ones that never knew him.

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? I know that even though all of this happened, Crowley still has his feelings for Aziraphale. If he didn’t the 15 Minutes wouldn’t have been so painful, especially considering the weight and length of their relationship: they’ve been through Hell (literally) and knowing someone for so long can not be erased within a day. And I think that despite Aziraphale’s actions, Crowley still loves him, and with time will come to understand him. That I'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you The "ironic" line delivery is very much a testament to Crowley’s character and how he behaves, and most importantly, the betrayal which he feels. Anyways, Crowley has sacrificed both material and emotional value for Aziraphale. Not only did he give up God’s Ineffable Plan™ (not only for the angel, but he was a part of the reason), but he abandoned his position and allies in Hell and completely isolated himself to be on his and Aziraphale’s side, and helped the angel with the Gabriel crisis and its implication all throughout Season 2. And not only that, but confessing is also a pretty demanding and difficult task. Everything he’s done was for the person he imagined Aziraphale to be, only to be hurt by who Aziraphale actually is and what he’d actually do. Sacrifices thrown to the side.

It ain't the being alone (sha-la-la) It ain't the empty home, baby (sha-la-la, sha-la-la, la-la-la) You know I'm good on my own (sha-la-la), sha-la-la, baby You know, it's more the being unknown

And there are some people, love, who are better unknown Another jab at Aziraphale, trying to convey that Crowley regrets ever taking the time to know, befriend, and fall in love with the angel. He’s trying to convince the both of them that this was a waste of time, and that it was never truly worth getting to know each other, if heartbreak was the only conclusion of their relationship.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 12- The Shower Task

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New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I cut open my foot in July when I was outlining this chapter and couldn't shower for a couple days. Was awful. It's also shocking how much a simple cut can bleed. I have a scar now, it's purple and sticks out a little

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

Sleep does its best to evade you that night. Between the unwelcoming unfamiliarity of the guest room to the slight ache in your leg, you just lay there awake. Finally, late into the night you begin to fall asleep. Resting uneasily.  It's quiet all the way out here. A silence only cut into by the occasional bark of coyotes. It feels like as soon as you close your eyes you're opening them again. Valeria sharply knocks on the door and doesn't wait for you to bid her entry. She walks in and sets down a pair of crutches next to you.

"You can't do much with your leg," She starts. "you'll help me around my office."

You rub your face and sit up, feeling as heavy as two and a half bags of bricks. "... Okay." It's not what you want to be doing but your options are sorely limited.

Not only are you supposed to help her in her office, it turns out, you're confined to the office. Having to ask her for permission to use the bathroom like you're a child in school. It seems she doesn't trust you with the important paperwork, so you're stuck reading the official contracts and agreements that need to be signed in order for her to keep her possession of the fisheries and warehouses. The subtle scratching of Valeria's pen makes it difficult to focus on the swimming words in front of you.

"Valeria?" You pipe up.

"Hm?"

"... I think... could you send someone to look through the lab for my notes?" You ask.

The scratching stops.

"Your notes were in the lab when it exploded." Valeria says flatly. You look up from the documents and meet her gaze. She's backlit by the harsh sun shining through the window behind her. Making her shadow lunge imposingly across the floor towards you.

"Yeah." You frown. "Can you send someone?"

"Yeah, I can send someone." She sighs. "You could still cook without them though right?" She asks.

"Yeah." You reply calmly. You're not sure though. You know how to make passible meth, but you'll have to try and get all the ratios right again. You decide not to tell her that. "Just makes me feel better to have them on hand."

Your notes haven't been recovered.  So you've been spending the last couple of nights trying to rewrite everything you can remember. Maybe it's time to move onto a more modern way of keeping notes. Digital notes can't burn in fires, but it doesn't feel right. The first night insomnia has disappeared and you're stuck fighting sleep. Not wanting to stop now that you're going, hand moving faster than your mind. Scribbled out mistakes litter the lined pages of your brand-new notebook. Risk of destruction isn't the only issue with physical notes. It's hard evidence. Or perhaps soft evidence.

Your mind comes to a blank and you resign, closing the notebook and lazily pushing it to the side of the bed. Due to your injuries, your hygiene isn't what it should be. Valeria had taken you back to your apartment for the essentials like she had promised, hair care, bodywash, toothbrush and toothpaste, spare clothes. All you've managed was changing each day and brushing your teeth. You still can't fully stand on your bad leg but it's healing fast. Faster than a fracture should. You're starting to suspect the doctor is an idiot and that your fibula and tibia weren't injured at all. Or at least, not at severely as he said.

The need to clean yourself beyond sitting on the bathroom floor with a soaked rag tugs at you. You want more water, soap. You feel filthy, like you've grown a second skin made of grease. You struggle off the bed, considerate of your leg and ribs and slowly make your way out of your room. Casting a glance into the hallway that leads into the living room. 

In the bathroom you lean your hip against the sink and discard your crutches. Stripping out of your clothes is frustratingly harder than it needs to be, especially with the unnecessary cast. You lumber into the bathtub, struggling with how little weight you're able to put on your leg. It's worse some days. The shower is still wet from when Valeria used it. The water slickens the porcelain. You bend down and turn on the water, flinching at the cold spray of water,  and adjusting it to be warmer. You curse, realising you forgot a rag to clean yourself with. Warm water pelts your back as you contemplate if maneuvering back out of the tub for one is worth it. 

You decide that it is. Getting out is harder than getting in. Your knee almost slips out from under you when you kneel. You swing your good leg over and push yourself to an unsteady stand. Placing a hand on one pale blue tiled wall to keep yourself up right. You reach up and snag a rag. The sound of the shower drowns out all noise as you awkwardly climb back into the tub. Your blood freezes as you step on the curved edge and slip, Slamming into the wall and knocking bottles off of the side. You gasp, feeling a burn in your thigh and leg. You look down, checking it over.

The white bandage along your upper thigh, soaked gray from the water blooms red. The fall reopened the large cut. It dilutes in the water, swirling into the drain. In seconds the bandage has turned red.

"Valeria!" You panic. It heightens when she doesn't come so you call her name louder. The burn in your thigh hurts more than the throbbing in your leg. The bathroom door flies open and Valeria shoves the curtain out of the way.

You can imagine what you must look like right now. Laying in the tub naked getting sprayed in the face by the shower, a river of red running from your leg.

"What the hell happened?" She barks, leaning over and turning off the shower, getting her arms and shoulders wet.

"I fell." You reply sharply.

"Really? I thought you were just laying on your side and bleeding for the fun of it." She retorts. "Come here." Valeria carefully pulls you from the tub, ignoring the hiss of pain as the skin on your thigh stretches.

The feeling of her warm hands along your bare ribs is overwhelming. She doesn't offer you a towel to cover yourself, instead just sitting you down on the side of the tub. Water droplets drip down you and pool on the ground as she retrieves something from under the sink. It's a bucket of supplies. Bandages, stitches, alcohol, scissors.

"You're bleeding all over my bathroom." She says, beginning to cut away at the soiled bandage. You know you are, you can smell the nauseating metallic tang of it. "You tore the stitches, I'll need to fix them." Valeria comments. You wish you were a little more prepared to be seen naked. You wonder what she thinks of the sight. 

Valeria painstakingly takes out and restitches your thigh. Leaving the skin tender and delicate to the touch. She even wraps your thigh in a new bandage. Giving it a gentle pat when she's finished.

"You'll live."  She says. You don't respond, feeling embarrassed. You can't even shower properly without turning it into an issue of some kind. Valeria goes quiet as well. The silence is oppressive and uncomfortable. You're far too aware of the fact that you're naked in front of your boss, who had to drag you from the tub like a wounded soldier and fix your injury for you. She places a hand around your shoulders. "Come on, you need to lie down and stop putting strain on your leg."

Valeria walks you back to your room, arm still around your shoulders, keeping you pressed against her. You feel tired and gladly lean against her. Giving up on caring about your nudity. The white sheets suddenly feel welcoming as you lay in them. Pulling the covers over your body. Valeria lingers beside the bed. Seemingly unable to trust you to settle down without hurting yourself. You're left wondering what else will go wrong this month.

[glitter-garbage]

writing is so revealing it's insane actually.

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[pandoa]

ITS THEM, ITS ALWAYS BEEN THEM 😭😭

incoming kimi ni todoke manga spoilers

"never forget how much i liked you..." LITERAL TEARS

rereading these, i should’ve known that they wouldn’t have been endgame :,) even the flowers kento gave her when they got together weren’t meant to last forever

ayane was also always unsure of her own feelings since the beginning… and yet kento was so openly in love (going far as to ramble to kazehaya at like 2am about how in love he was i am sobbing)

years later and i’m still in shambles because of these two 😭 but still can’t wait for them to be animated in season 3 so i can cry for them again <3

[silverislander]

got through another church service :) (people wouldn't stop touching me without asking) (got guilt tripped abt not coming around anymore twice) (extremely aware i was being watched and judged the whole time) (everyone only seems to remember my brothers accomplishments) (they still fucking do gendered call and responses in 2023)

[tariah23]

I don’t even watch naruto but I scroll thru ur naruto tag for sasunaru🫡

[thebiballerina]

I mostly concur with the above reblogger, but I wanted to add one thing:

I wouldn't say that anything you do will have zero impact. There are SOME things you can do that will have an impact, if you choose to put your time and energy into this issue. (Which you are not obligated to do, to be clear, unless you have some sort of role or job which implies that sort of responsibility.)

You aren't necessarily helpless. But subscribing to OP's mindset is a really good way to make yourself helpless.

I've seen that mindset, repeatedly. I had that mindset, at one point in time. You know what changed that, more than anything else? Becoming an actual activist.

The activists who hold on to the mindset that a mental health break is selfish? The ones that can't or won't emotionally distance themselves? The ones that don't acknowledge their right to care for themselves because someone, somewhere is suffering worse than them? They don't last, and they don't help.

The good ending for that road is to burn out, and then not be able to help anymore. The bad ending is to fall heavily into compassion fatigue, and then be so desensitized and unable to care that you cause real harm. Or there's the other bad ending, which is that you neglect yourself so thoroughly that you end up hurt, sick, or dead (and maybe hurt others while you are at it). You might even manage to do all three of these things.

If you want to make a real impact on more than a minuscule scale, you not only need to allow yourself mental health breaks (which, yes, sometimes include disengaging completely), you need to accept that they aren't selfish at all. They are sometimes the only way you'll be able to preserve your ability to help. Feeling personally affected by an issue is valid, and sometimes unavoidable, but it doesn't correlate to how much of a difference you make.

Hurting yourself doesn't automatically help others. Many of us have heard metaphor which references the airplane safety instruction to put on your oxygen mask before helping others do so. It's a good metaphor. A suffocating person isn't going to thank you for the valiant gesture of suffocating yourself alongside them, when you had the option to save the both of you.

I believe in sacrifice, in some cases. I believe in acknowledging my privilege. But sacrifice generally implies that you are giving something up to help someone else. If you are just giving something up… it's more suffering in the world, not less.

Do you want to actually help? I bet you there are activism campaigns that would love to have you, in a variety of forms and levels of commitment. Including entirely remote efforts, if you aren't in a position or location to engage in in-person efforts. That goes for any cause, not just this one.

And you'll make a lot more difference in that sphere if you prioritize your impact, instead of your devotion to the issue.

i think anyone who is genuinely worried about their mental health bc of the situation in gaza probably needs to reformat their way of thinking about it. the answer is not to take a “mental health break” where you pretend whats happening in gaza doesnt exist and stop being vocal and refuse to hear people around you who are vocal. the way to do that “mental health break” much more effectively and not selfishly would be to remove yourself from constant streams of idiotic and/or murderously evil people. stop watching tiktok debates. stop reading genocidal reddit comments and news articles from sources you KNOW want palestine dead. stop putting the focus on the murderers and keep your attention on sympathy and love for the murdered, on hope and optimism (even if naive) and activism to do your part in making things better. dont get me wrong the murderers still need to be dealt with but if you as an individual feel like you’re getting too overwhelmed with despair to be helpful, the answer is to shift your focus away from those causing the despair, not to ignore and abandon those who have to actually live through it.

[perfunctory-satisfaction]

.