hard up, so hunt me down

slavic trashbin raccoon + I became a fully responsible adult while I was away, so now I also have a job she/her 24, name's Ana

[sheikahfication]

You must jerk off and cry to absolve all of your sin

[hopeitwillstop]

WIP Tag Game

Thanks to @major-toast for tagging me there! It's my first time being tagged in such a game, and I'm really excited!

It took me a long time to take part, but here I go, I guess, huh.

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and you post a snippet or tell them something about it.

1.Dry and worthless monument to our love

2.I'm the relic from the past, praise to Ceasar

3.I'll probably take dad's car (know that it's unlocked, I broke it with the crowbar)

I don't have lots of mutuals. The ones who I know write things had already taken part in this, probably. So if you already did, sorry. And if I tag you and you don't write at all, maybe just share some thoughts or headcanons on whatever pairing you love the most. Somethething that has been in your head for a while, and you'd want to turn into a fic? I guess, huh.

So, yeah. @hospitalbeach @hinny-is-my-comfort-ship @em0tionallymotionsick

[aether-alt]

Reg coming back to the dorms to see the curtains around Barty’s bed closed and the very obvious noises of Evan and Barty having sex, only to sneak over to his bed without a noise and get off to the sound of his best friends fucking

[lizardmist]

toxic rosekiller except it's less 'barty manipulator' and more clingy, jealous, obsessive love

it's the fact that they need one another to stay sane, would do anything for the other, drive each other completely batshit crazy but it just works

it's how they know the other better than themselves, how they refuse to communicate, how their arguments have never once ended with apologies but with hate sex or slammed doors

toxic rosekiller who have almost killed each other at least twenty times in twelve months. toxic rosekiller that everyone accepts as completely unhealthy and who believe that they are the absolute pinnacle of love

[laced-in-ruin]

TW: Slight mention of Suicide Ideation

There are no words to describe how much losing Evan hurt Barty. He literally felt everything and nothing inside of him. He was a storm, a raging beast, a monster, a coward, and lonely. Barty didn't feel any of that "if only I could see him one last time" bull shit, no, he was ready to kill, to slaughter, to do whatever it took to see Evan again, forever. Except he was a coward, always, and he couldn't bring himself to end his own life. And when it was taken from him, there was no soul left to go meet Evan’s. Barty was a coward in life and in death, always, in every universe. And Evan suffers for it twice- when he was alive and when he was dead.

[aiexh]

contrary to popular belief, barty DID reunite with evan in the afterlife, but due to the dementor's kiss, he was only a shell of who he used to be

he lost everything that made barty barty

evan noticed, of course, but never really cared. obviously, he was sad about how things turned out, but in his eyes, barty was barty. his barty, and nothing could change that.

when barty thought of his past, he could only remember the extremes of it. his hypersexual tendencies, his chaotic and destructive persona, his all consuming love for evan.

so, he created hornkus binglefuck (reggie chose that nickname), an "alter ego" of sorts, from what he could remember of his past self, and tried his best to embody that persona, simply because he couldnt take the pain in evan's eyes whenever he looked at barty

evan hated hornkus binglefuck so much, because that wasnt barty. sure he was chaotic and outgoing and lowkey evil, but that was the barty everyone else saw, that was the persona barty forced himself to be. his barty was soft, gentle, passionate.

his barty would softly stroke his back after rough sex, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. his barty would sneak the two out of hogwarts just because he noticed evan was feeling overwhelmed. his barty took his time and listened to whatever bullshit evan was ranting about that day. his barty was his, and his only. not some persona, but himself, raw and unhidden. he wouldn't have to hide behind false words and emotions with evan, never.

so, one day, evan sat barty down, and explained to him oh so softly, because he knew barty was still fragile, no matter how much he tried to hide it, and he told him. he told him everything about his barty, and how he didn't have to pretend around him, and how much he loved him, his lack of a soul and true happiness included.

and barty broke down, and Evan held him, just like how barty held him during their hogwarts days. and barty never pretended around him anymore.

[tobukizzy]

marauders era x vogue

i totally forgot i made these last year so what the hell dumping some here

[b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m]

Now why are these so good

[talkingrosekiller]

barty who truly thinks no one could ever understand him but then meets evan who'd make an effort to understand him any day.

evan who truly thinks no one could ever love him how he loves other people but then meets barty who loves him like it's breathing and is ready to do absolutely anything for him any day.

[hospitalbeach]

slavic barty is my only joy these days

his accent his behavior his sad eyes

[hopeitwillstop]

Implementing some Slavic things into Evan and Barty's lives just because I'm Slavic and I can. (Yes, I know that other families in other countries can do it, too, just sharing.)

Barty's mum, while she's alive, being really welcoming each time Evan visits over holidays, offering him second helpings and packing him food to take home/back to school. Because in her eyes he's too lanky and maybe his parents don't care that much.

Evan learns to bring her something, even if not that big, every time he visits, because he wants to show how much he appreciates her effort and hospitality.

When Evan and Barty decide to drink in the dorm, get properly pissed, it's somehow established that it's a bad habit to put an empty bottle on the sidetable of the bed. It goes to the floor. Some prophecy shit, Panda supports it. Mostly prejudice, but it's still cute.

Barty has a habit of looking into the mirror every time he leaves the dorm/their apartment. Just so he can remind himself what he looks like and who he actually is. Evan doing the same secretly because he watched Barty do it for years. Not liking yourself is a main point. Also giving you luck!

[reasons-to-not-end-it]

REASON TO NOT END IT:

"To masturbate"

-anonymous

#323

[epsilonblack]

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. His bandages still itched, tight and bulky around his wrists, but he left them alone. Across the room, Barty lay on his stomach, his feet kicking lazily in the air as he scribbled furiously in his crayon filled notebook.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly.

Barty didn’t look up. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Sirius hesitated. “They gave me more labels today."

That got Barty’s attention. He turned his head, expression unreadable. “Labels? Like soup cans? Or the kind they stick on your back when you’re not looking?”

“The second one, probably.”

Barty rolled onto his side. “What flavor are you, then?”

“Bipolar. Borderline.” Sirius shrugged. “I’m apparently a human mood swing with abandonment issues.”

Barty stared at him. “That’s a very dramatic soup. Bit spicy.”

Sirius snorted in spite of himself.

“They said I’m emotionally unstable. That I feel too much. That I panic when people leave me. And it’s all true. But it still hurts, hearing it out loud.”

Barty slowly sat up, letting his journal fall shut. “They said I have schizophrenia. Did you know that? Voices, visions, wild things. They think I’m bonkers. I am, probably. But they’re not wrong.”

He leaned forward, oddly serious. “But you? You’re just… a cracked glass. Still sharp. Still beautiful. Just fragile in places.”

Sirius blinked at him. “That’s weirdly poetic.”

“I’m an artist,” Barty said simply, picking up his red crayon again. “All of us are just shattered things trying not to cut each other.”

Sirius lay back on his pillow, exhausted. “I hate how much that makes sense.”

Barty began to draw again, humming softly under his breath. After a while, he said, “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Me too,” Sirius whispered.

And for a moment, the silence between them was almost comforting.

It was late, the ward quiet except for the irritating buzz of the hallway lights and the occasional soft shuffle of staff rounds. Sirius lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, sleep eluding him again. Barty sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing against the side of his own bed with a crayon, the paper pressed to his knee.

“Your boyfriend came again today,” Barty said quietly.

Sirius turned his head, his voice rough. “Yeah. He did.”

Barty didn’t look up. “He always comes. Brings you coffee. Talks to the nurses. Smiles like it’s not hurting him inside.”

Sirius blinked slowly, throat tight.

“You’re lucky,” Barty said. His voice cracked a little, soft but trembling at the edges. “My boyfriend used to visit. He brought me sweets once. He said he’d wait.”

Sirius didn’t say anything.

“But he doesn’t come anymore.” Barty’s hand stopped moving, the crayon stilled mid-line. “He’s dead. They told me he died.”

There was a long pause.

“I still see him, though,” Barty murmured. “Sometimes he’s in the corner. Sometimes outside the window. I draw him, so I don’t forget.”

He lifted the journal and turned it toward Sirius, revealing a sketch... delicate, almost angelic, of a boy with wild eyes and a soft smile. “His name was Evan.”

Sirius’ heart sank.

“I don’t think he knows he’s dead,” Barty whispered. “I don’t think I do, either. Not really.”

Sirius pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Quietly, he walked across the room and sat beside Barty. He didn’t touch him, didn’t say anything. Just sat with him.

Barty turned another page and began to draw again. This time, he used blue.

“I think Evan would’ve liked your boyfriend,” he said. “Remus seems gentle.”

Sirius closed his eyes. “He is.”

And they sat together in the soft light, one broken soul beside another, while Barty drew the people they missed most in colors they could still see.

They sat there in silence for a little while longer, the soft scratching of Barty’s crayon filling the room.

Sirius glanced at the journal, then at Barty’s profile, pale in the dim light, eyes distant but focused on the page.

He spoke gently. “Do you know how Evan died?”

Barty paused. The crayon stilled in his hand. His head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something Sirius couldn’t hear. He was quiet for so long that Sirius almost didn’t expect an answer.

Finally, Barty said, “No.” His voice was soft. “I don’t.”

He kept staring at the page. “I think I used to. I think it was loud. Or maybe quiet. Maybe it was both. Maybe I watched. Maybe I didn’t.”

He pressed the crayon to the page again, drawing harder now. “Every time I try to remember, it’s like… someone’s holding a hand over my eyes.”

Sirius’ throat ached.

“I wish I knew,” Barty added, barely audible. “But I think… I think if I did, I might break.”

Sirius reached out, just barely brushing Barty’s shoulder.

“You’re not broken,” he said.

Barty let out a dry, breathless laugh. “Oh, Sirius. I’m so broken. But that’s okay. Evan was too. We were beautiful that way.”

And then he kept drawing, as if the memory might someday come back in red and blue and black lines.

The overhead lights dimmed with a low hum, then cut out completely, leaving the room bathed in the soft, blue glow of the hallway’s night lighting.

Barty didn’t move from the floor. He just kept scratching faintly at the paper, the sound barely audible, like the flutter of moth wings. Eventually, the crayon stilled. He whispered something as he stood, maybe a name, maybe nothing, and rolled onto his bed.

Sirius lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. It was too dark to see much, but he could still make out the faint outlines, the vent overhead, the seam of the ceiling tiles, the shadow of the window frame across the wall.

[morsmortish]

barty and evan are just as morally corrupt and simultaneously just as lame and uncool as each other

[maxxie-or-smth]

stop romanticizing your problems. start sexualizing them instead convince yourself you are into every bad thing you experience

[four-toast]

Perv Rosekiller Sunday, anyone?

[hopeitwillstop]

I'm a huge The Cure fan, so, well, it would've happened sooner or later.

Regulus thinking about James during late Hogwarts years, knowing it all will come to the end soon. Strong Choices vibes with "I'm not done being loved by him".

"You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow".

We're all used to comparing James to the sun. But have you ever been out on a cold, snowy night? Where all the snow is untouched, white, vast and blinding? It's everywhere you look, it's beautiful, it's sparkling, and you can't submerge into it for enough time before it starts to hurt. That's what James was to Regulus.

Something what you want to sink in so desperately, but can't stay in it long enough before it stings. And it's cold. Not because James is, but because it's what Regulus makes him. You think this boy is capable of dreaming about the sun?

[hopeitwillstop]

Rosekiller, but make it soft and quiet because Evan's just apathetic, and Barty is looking for comfort, buzzing in the silence.

I don't think they ever find their peace, they're too different. Maybe it's just enough to get by while all the Death Eater crap rolls out around them.

Evan taking Barty's silence as acceptance. Barty's silence is anticipatory, waiting for Evan to act. One is kind of content and the other one shrinks himself to fit the reality they're in.

They're so bad for each other, I love it.