Rosekiller Band Au......should I Do It?

Yall we need a bartylus big bang. PLEASE.

Jegulus:

Regulus: I’m a bad person

James: No, you’re not

Bartylus:

Regulus: I’m a bad person

Barty: Me too :p

THIS IS NO HATE AT EITHER OF THEM IM OBSESSED WITH THEM BOTH

barty crouch's top song is monster high fright song.

go argue with a wall

"suniye" "sunaiye"

TOP TIER ROMANCE .

i hate non desi james but they always make desi james cringe in fics like- tell me why latin james is throwing parties and doing bachata while desi james is called bloody JAGDISH?! and makes aloo ke parathe??

oikawa calling iwaizumi iwa-chan is better than him calling him hajime ANY FUCKING DAY.

go argue with the bloody wall.

buff sirius

"James potter varia-" i was then shot 67 times

Shitty Diner - Rosekiller

I hope this is what you had in mind @meowmeowkri if you saw me re-blog with this, no you didn't

I love batshit Rosekiller as much as the next person, but I don't see a lot of their darker hours. Where the anxiety is all consuming. This of course focuses on Barty. I haven't gotten the characterization for Evan down just yet, but a girl is trying her best. I don't have an ED or Body Dysmorphia so if I misrepresent anything that's written, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Tags: Bulimic! Barty Crouch Jr x Evan Rosier.

Word count: 1,782

Warnings: Eating Disorder mentioned, Bulimia specifically, body dysmorphia, graphic descriptions of vomiting, body checking, shattered glass, blood, alcoholism mentioned if you squint

Divider @firefly-graphics

The restroom of the shitty diner was silent save for the sound of some pop hit playing on the overhead speaker, and the sound of a fist hitting glass. His fist. It took a couple of minutes for Barty's mind to catch up with what he had just done. He blinked slowly, looking at the blood trickle from his knuckles down his arm, the glass embedded in his skin shining in the dim, flickering lights of the restroom. He looked back at his reflection, to any outside onlooker he looked gauntly, dark circles under his eyes, harsh angles. His ribs poking out a bit if he moved just right. As he stared, his reflection warped in the shattered mirror. Watching as his cheeks appeared a little more rounder than before, his stomach extending in a gross manner. And his biceps just looking wrong.

Dinner was going smoothly, he insisted on picking off of Evan's plate declaring that it was cheaper to do so. Even that felt like it was too much for him to consume in front of him. As he got a little more comfortable with Evan as the meal progressed and the food loosing heat he picked a little more off his plate. A little distracted from the thoughts that pointed at every insecurity engrained him, until he glanced around and caught someone staring at him. In reality, it was probably nothing. A person lost in thought. A quick glance that only came off as staring. And he felt sick. He couldn't help but let his thoughts drift and start telling himself this stranger had thought him to be eating too much, and unhealthy. Someone who had no business eating what he was eating. After that he let Evan carry the conversation. As he got lost in thought, he stared down at his thighs, how the flesh under his clothing felt too big, too much. His palms grew sweatier and he just about bolted into the diner's one toilet restroom locking the door with shaking hands and an equally as shaky exhale.

He was knocked out of his replay of the events as a sick wave of nausea swept over him. He turned the water on in the sink. He shoved his hand under the running water the dark red turning light under the weak stream. The porcelain was long stained orange from the rust of the faucet, and as the water ran the red of his blood and the rust contrasted disgustingly against each other. He did his best to just focus on the stinging of his skin from the glass as the hot water knocked the shards out, ignoring the incessant need to vomit. His mind was still struggling to keep up with what was happening. The only thing tethering him was his shaking hands picking out glass shards from the broken skin of his knuckles. He made the mistake of looking into the mirror, and he immediately grimaced at what he saw. Flushed cheeks, and a sweaty forehead. The wave of nausea that hit him was immediate. He staggered across the small bathroom, and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, Merlin knows the last time this thing was properly cleaned. The impact of his knees hitting the dark tile rung through him, the pain was muffled by his nausea. He couldn't bring himself to care about the bruises that were already starting to form under his baggy jeans.

As his knees hit the ground, he shoves his bloody fingers down his throat, the taste of iron and copper is heavy on his tongue. He gags himself. His diaphragm and abdomen clench painfully as they respond to the intrusion in his throat. His esophagus and throat spasm sorely around his fingers. There wasn't much in his stomach to get rid of, but it was enough for him to cause an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. His eyes roll back and his fingers fly out of his mouth as the small amount of water he had, fries, and his stomach acid hit the stained bottom of the toilet in a disgusting slurry of fluid and chewed food. His fingers went back down his throat immediately after.

Behind him, a door pushes open. A door with a broken lock to Barty's future dismay. Evan has caught him in the act. He hovers in the entrance of the shitty diner restroom. His eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. A shattered mirror, with blood still clinging to the dirty glass. A sink left running. And his - he wants to say boyfriend - gagging himself on the nasty ground of the men's restroom, and vomiting into an equally as nasty toilet.

Evan's immediate reaction was to be mad, so mad. Not at Barty, but at himself. For not noticing, for brushing off jokes Barty made about his body. For just carrying on like nothing is wrong. Joining him in his week long benders of miscellaneous drinks and clubs that was followed by profuse hangovers that induced vomiting.

He shuts the door immediately behind him, not bothering to be quiet. He isn't all too gentle when he finally gets his hands on Barty either. He pulls Barty's bloodied, and now spit soaked hand out of his throat And wrestles him away from the toilet.

A startled noise is pulled out of the man on the floor followed by coughing. Barty immediately faces Evan shoving him away as he coughs up a mix of spit and vomit. The fluids hit the floor in a splatter. It's not much, but it's enough for shame to fill his chest, and it doesn't take long for it to transfigure into anger.

"Ever heard of fucking knocking." Barty hisses followed by more coughing. His hands are shaking from the exertion of expelling the contents of his stomach. His eyes struggle to focus on the man that is still standing above him.

Evan's jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing at Barty as he takes in his pathetic form on the ground. "You're kidding," he bites out. That's what he's worried about?

"No- No I'm not kidding." he doubles down, even if the argument is pointless. The weight of being exposed, and caught in such a vulnerable position is heavy. The weight settles on his chest, a tightening hold settling on his lungs. His breathing stutters a bit as his eyes drift down and away from Evan. He's too dehydrated to form the tears his panic riddled body wishes to produce, his head aching and pounding. A dull pain settling behind his eyes as he falls apart in front of Evan.

His breathing is ragged, and he's spluttering nonsense as he panics. Mixes of him telling Evan to get the fuck out, and that he's fine. He's shaking so violently he thinks he's going to fall apart and fade away. As his breathing picks up in speed, his vision blurs even more. And he just can't fucking calm down.

Evan runs a hand over his face, not knowing what to do next. He takes a moment to settle his anger. Shoving it to the back of his mind to unravel and dissect later. He instead settles on the tile floor beside Barty to try and support him. His hands hover not knowing if he should touch him or not. He watches Barty nearly make himself sick again as he chokes on his breath and spit. He does what he knows best, and allows his touch to be rough.

He takes Barty by the shoulders, forcing him to look at Evan. "Hey-" he snaps. Trying to get him to look at Evan. Barty doesn't meet his eyes, his vision dancing around the room. The flickering fluorescent lights of the bathroom catching his attention instead as he looks up trying his best to not choke on his breath. He coughs and chokes anyway. Evan grips his cheeks meanly, gripping his sullen cheeks between his pointer-finger and thumb. "Look at me Barty." he says sharply.

Barty's vision darts to Evan, his dry sobs, and heavy breathing not slowing. He looks pained, and lost. His eyes are clouded with confusion and panic.

Evan takes a deep breath, "Barty- follow me. Barty c'mon breathe, gorgeous." he coaxes now that he's got his attention. Evan slows his own breathing. Taking measured deep breathes. He grabs Barty's shaking hand, guiding his palm to lay flat against his chest.

Barty keeps hyperventilating, choking and hiccupping as his panic is all consuming. He's knocked out of it when Barty's heart beats against his palm, and he feels the rising and falling of his chest. He closes his eyes. Trying to imagine that he wasn't sitting on the piss stained floor of their favorite diner, distracting himself with Evan's warm smiles, sarcastic comments and hidden smirks. His eyes flutter open after a while.

He coughs, as he tries to slow his breathing, still angry and ashamed. A few moments go by and he can speak again. "Don't treat me like a child Rosie." he chides, but there's no heat behind his words. He just hates that he was reduced to a blubbering panic mess just because Evan caught him throwing up of all things.

Evan let's out a relieved sigh, still taking measured breathes as Barty noticeably breathes along with him. He laughs a bit at his comment. Weakly, but at least Barty is looking marginally better. Even if his voice is rough from the sobbing and vomiting. "Deep breathes, love. Just like that…" he coos, his other hand wiping his spit and blood from his face and lips. Even a mess Evan finds Barty to be one of the most beautiful things on the planet.

Once Barty has calmed down he pulls his hand away from Evan's chest, the shame evident on his face as he scowls. He's not mad at Evan not by a longshot. He winces as the adrenaline starts to fade. A bright sting in his knuckles making itself evident. Evan notices and lets out a snort.

"That was your fault, idiot." he scolds, his finger poking Barty's forehead.

Barty scowls shoving Evan back in his seated position on the restroom floor. He was right, of course. But he wasn't going to admit that. "Not my fault their mirror was looking like it deserved a punch at the time…" not divulging the detail of his reflection being the cause of such a violent reaction. Evan rolls his eyes, deciding he'll press further once they're back home. He stands, offering Barty his hand to help him up.

Barty glares at the hand, but accepts it. Allowing Evan to help him up and out of the nasty restroom, in the shitty diner.

Hopefully I characterized them correctly, I'm not joking when I say I haven't written fanfiction since 2023. I suddenly want to expand on this little universe I've created, but no promises. Or I'll feel pressured and never write again.

I just saw someone on instagram refer to jegulus as 'the sun guy and his drowned bf' and that as what I shall call them from this day forth.