#I have brought you angst

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[kalivodas]

listen i just had to i have such a fundamental feeling for that bear of a man

part 1

warnings p in v nasty nasty talk he calls you kiddo but come on now

IT’S YOUR FAULT. at least that’s what he tells you, coos into your ear as the wet of his mouth finds refuge against your throat. his beard tickles, but his tongue sears.

“you started it, kid,” he grumbles to the fever-ridden air between you. his truck was hot, fog pilled on the windows. (jesus, you were fucking in the parking lot of a home goods.)

he places a palm on your back, arches it up nice and pretty for him, and teases the head of his cock against you. you hear his breath hitch when he meets nothing but wetness.

“please,” you whine, and you feel goosebumps prick your skin at the rawness of your voice.

“beg for it, lovie,” he urges.

your hips buck, grinding into him aimlessly as he pulls away from you. a man who would stick his dick in you in the back of a shopping plaza, but a man with restraint, nonetheless.

somewhere between the high-pitched whimpers of oh, fuck you and god, please please please just put it in and fuck me, john, please baby, need you bad (it was absolutely this one), he bottoms out inside you.

you feel his hips shutter against you. your lungs fall empty, a pathetic, breathless thing falling from your mouth. when you find your air, catch his cock in a vice, he completely draws from you.

“stop being mean,” you grit, bite at him, and your back heaves when his teeth sink into your shoulder.

he grins. you feel it. “why dontcha’ just be quiet honey? just-“ he jams his length into you, face splits impossibly when he hears a squelch. “let her talk for a little bit, shut that pretty fucking mouth.”

before you get to rebuttal, or a form a decent thought in the mush that was your head, his palm finds the fat of your hip. he squeezes there, hums when you whine, and places a hefty palm on your ass. he lets the other hand snake around, enveloping your mouth.

“fat babies, huh?” his pelvis all but snaps against you, and you bite against his hand when his balls slap your clit. he feels you squeeze him, like a fucking vice, he says, and one of his hands slide to your shoulders.

he pushes you down, cheek flat against the leather of his backseat, and pistons down into you like he got paid by the damn hour.

“i’ll give you a fucking baby.” his chest shudders, you swear you feel the hair of it prick your back. your bear.

“fill you the brim, jesus, i’m gonna make you a mama,” he grunts, and you can hear the brute of him shatter. his words come out slurred and broken, lungs taking in air almost viciously.

your hips lock beneath him, and you paw the hand on your mouth away. “knock me up,” you beg him. “please, gotta be— fuck, gotta be full.”

you’d put twenty bucks on the bet that he whimpered.

“i’m gonna’,” his hands find the pudge of your thighs and he tightens his fingers on you like you might slip out of them. “gonna’ make you all fat and pretty, kid.”

he cums then, hot spurts of him filling your tummy. he peels himself away from you, and has to bite away a smirk at the spent, sweaty state of the two of you.

“no more house shopping for you, mr. price,” you coo up at him, but your body hasn’t moved. in fact, it sounds like your fighting your lungs to breathe.

he laughs. “yeah baby, that’s the problem.”

a / n dedicated to @pricegouge only ur tags awakened something

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: referenced mind control / parasites / intrusive thoughts (only in the tags) / ]

(This is just a fun “what if” so bear with me-) I know we make mention of the potential for Krang remnants to be stuck with Raph and/or Donnie, but Mikey and Leo also had a moment with the other two where a type of Krang goop was crawling beneath their skin (this being immediately after Raph broke free.)

So I raise you the potential for all four of them to have a bit of that Krang parasite on them…and for that to have unforeseen consequences.

[multiplicityofmind]

there is something so personal about fabian this season. he comes back from his summer quests, just getting over the shadow of his father's legacy. his mother left her only son, returned from saving the world for the second time, for gilear. and for the first time, he's entirely alone. no waitstaff, no fencing, nothing. it's a big house and he's entirely alone. it's all looking up for him! he's popular, he's dating the girl he has a crush on, everyone loves him! it's his birthday and it's fucking amazing!

then it crashes down. it's his birthday and everyone here is in danger. it's his birthday and everyone close to him is in danger. it's his birthday and one of the last physical remnants of his father's legacy is going to be destroyed. it's his birthday and it's too reminiscent of prom night, thick smoke and his father's blood. its his 18th birthday and he has never felt more young, unprepared.

[wandixx]

Count the freckles, connect them like the stars part 2, Pisces

Summary: Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him

M’gann tried to not do it too often, but there was something really nice in going on a rant about something inconsequential. She was leading a stressful life, like all other heroes, teenage or not. It was impossible not to, when every other day could end in life-or-death situation, with innocent lives as additional stakes. Personally she thought she was quite good at handling it, too. She wasn’t the one to get frustrated easily, to explode at people over things that stressed her out in other parts of life, and lately she even got some useful coping mechanisms thanks to Black Canary. She certainly had bigger problems than characters in her sitcoms.

All it is to say, there was still something enjoyable in channeling pent-up stress into winded discussion about something she found absurd in old English poems or other elements of her homework.

“And it feels so dumb, like, man heard from some witches that he’d get promotion, which wasn’t that surprising, considering everything he’d done, and then become king, and then when he got said promotion by virtue of doing what he was doing, he decided he needs to force the fate”

“Exactly! Like, Macbeth, my man. Even if you assume these ladies are right, which, why would you do that, these were randoms by the road, this means you’re guaranteed to become king. Why kill your king, your friend who you’ve been wax poeting about few pages ago?!” Danny agreed passionately, waving his hands in righteous exasperation so much, that he almost tripped over his tea. In all honesty, he was M’gann’s favorite rant partner. Sometimes he’d ask «Do you need solution or someone to yell with?» and then he was always eager to match her energy and never tried to give her advice when she didn’t ask for it. On few occasions they stumbled upon resolution while egging each other on, but but that was never a point. The point was to complain about whatever until they both felt better about it.

“And maybe it makes sense and makes everything deeper or something, but who the hell is Hecate and why did she just show up? Like, can everyone stop acting like it’s obvious? Not everyone here is human” she whined, slightly redundant. After all, big part of why she was at school in the first place was because people assumed she was human too. Still it would be nice if things were explained a bit more.

“And it’s not even general human thing, just ‘Western’ culture thing. Hecate is goddess from Greek mythology, though I’m not sure why she was used here? Maybe because one of her things were crossroads. But still. She is not really well known. Like, bitch please, not everyone here knows mythology, give people breadcrumbs at least”

“Breadcrumbs?”

“Breadcrumbs. Tiny pieces of information that can lead you to the answer. It’s from some fairy tale, I think”

“Huh. Cool”

M’gann leaned back in her chair and looked at the high ceiling for a moment.

“I need to get around to making bread sometime soon. That could be fun”

Danny just hummed in agreement.

“But it’s hard to heat up the kitchen enough for dough to grow, since it’s connected to main area”

She saw out of the corner of her eye how Danny’s face scrunched up, deep in thought.

“I think Sam mentioned some recipe that let’s bread grow in fridge overnight. I can ask her about it, if you want”

Girl slumped back forward, to look at him surprised, to make sure he was serious.

“Would you?”

“Of course”

“Thanks”

She reached forward to get her own tea. Danny’s eyes followed her hands as if they were artifacts cursed so once you looked at them, you couldn’t look away. She mentally reached out, just a little, just slightly, to brush against his most surface level thoughts to see what got hims so intrigued. Not any deeper, just–

Ah. He found stars in her freckles again. He wasn’t sure if he should mention it.

M’gann wondered how she could ask about it without bringing up the fact that she read his thoughts. Sometimes it was hard to balance between what his comfort and hers. Without telepathy, people’s moods were downright indecipherable, but she knew humans didn’t really see it the same way, and couldn’t separate public thoughts from private ones.

She needed something with hands, something with–

“Unrelated human culture question, girl at my school offered to do some palm reading on me, do you know what does it mean?” she asked, bringing her hands forward a bit. She hoped he’d take them, but didn’t want to make it too obvious. He did, careful warm fingers grasping her left wrist and flipping it palm up.

She slowly moved pen over to where they sat with her telekinesis, doing her best to not call any attention to it.

“It’s a superstition. Some people believe they can read future based on the lines on people’s hands,” he explained, feather-light finger tracing it “It’s usually stuff like how long will you live, something about your love life, maybe some other things? I don’t know much, I always preferred other forms of pseudoscience.”

“Like what?”

“Astrology~” he said with pizzazz, flipping her hand again, “and you have Pisces, which means you’re caring, optimistic, kind and sweet”

M’gann couldn’t help but laugh. She tried to keep open mind to all different Earth concepts, to not treat them as stupid, even if she considered them absurd, but this one caught her off guard. It was fine though. Danny laughed too.

“Does it really?” she deadpanned, after they both calmed down.

“Yeah!” He mindlessly grabbed the pen and started drawing line just below her knuckles “Pisces is one of the Zodiac Constellations, which is this sort of belt of stars that Sun passes through over the year. Each constellation is supposed to take up 30° of the sky and has assigned time to it, based on when Sun is in opposition of it, so it’s best visible at night. People born during that time have specific Zodiac Sign. Like I said, some people believe it affects people’s personalities and life. I’m Gemini, so allegedly, I’m really curious, playful and adaptable–”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Eh,” he stopped drawing to look at her and wave his hand in so-so motion, “Unfortunately some people get really intense and rude about it, so they’d say I’m two-faced and inconsistent or some shit and then decide they should never talk to me again. Personally I see it as dumb fun though,” he finished, scratching against her skin to write visible lines. M’gann was sure this particular pen normally wrote smoothly, but it seemed like skin made it a bit harder to use. It was alright, she liked the slightly tingly feeling it left behind.

“And my zodiac sign is Pisces?”

"I mean, you're not from Earth and I don't know when you were born, so it's hard to say"

"Right, dumb question"

Danny stopped again and stared at her intensely, suddenly deep in thought. M'gann carefully didn't peek, even though she was curious.

"It isn't," he started slowly, "Mars is close enough that parallax doesn't really affect way stars are in relation to each other, at least from what I read, so you probably could see Zodiac Belt from the surface. We can try extrapolating Earth Zodiac to Martian year and based on that see what was most likely visible when you were born. That could be pretty neat exercise"

"Huh. Are our stars really the same?"

"Yeah, it's really cool, but I don't get it enough to really explain," Danny answered, sounding genuinely bothered by the fact. This just wouldn't do, it was supposed to be time for them to unwind.

"It's fine. Maybe next time."

"Maybe next time"

"What's the story behind Pisces? Like the one you told me about Virgo and three Goddesses?"

Danny relaxed, though he quickly turned a bit sheepish.

"Funny story… There is no story" M'gann forcefully tramped down her disappointment.

"So, was Virgo only constellation with the story?" she asked, trying not to grumble. She enjoyed listening to Danny, when he was so excited, with shining eyes and almost glowing. Sometimes, it was hard to get that out of him, even if he genuinely felt it. M’gann was careful to not look to deep into his mind, so she didn’t actually know why at times he kept repressing every bit of excitement he seemed to feel. She was determined to let it surface far more often.

And these were nice stories too.

“No, don’t worry,” Danny said, not quite laughing, but with this type of projection about him, “It's just Pisces really. I think it was because Greeks adopted Babylonian Zodiac and had to scramble to find anything that could be set as origin story for each constellation. For everything else they found something, more or less matching, but Pisces proved to be difficult. Virgo is supposed to look like Maiden and other Zodiac also has assigned something they look like and based on that myths were assigned. Pisces is said to be two fishes that are tied together by their tails but nobody knows why they'd be that. One idea I heard was that they were fish that lead Aphrodite’s chariot after she came to be from sea foam. Aphrodite was Greek Goddess of Beauty and Romantic Love and was born from Uranus' blood that fallen down on see when his son injured him. I'm not sure if said fishes even appeared in any other Aphrodite myths, or even most versions of her origin story, so I don't think this counts. But I like the way it looks. It's pretty."

M'gann looked down on her palm, where Danny successfully kept upon drawing. She didn't really see what could be so pretty about this particular shape, she thought it was no different to other ones she saw, when Danny drew or when she later went to check it out, but who was she to disregard his sense of aesthetics. Maybe it was something specific to how human or ghost brains were wired.

"It's fine," After a moment she added "So, Pisces have no story and some humans can be weirdly intense about stars on night of others birth”

“Exactly”

“And I’m Zodiacless”

“For now… Ha! I’m done!”

When M’gann looked at it again, she still had trouble seeing fishes in it, but at this point she came to understand that humans were really good at finding things in most random places.

Danny was staring at her, when she looked up from wobbly drawing. He grinned, like he was barely stopping himself from laughter.

“Don’t worry, I don’t know how anyone saw fish there either”

[theaxolotlkween]

lol au where Rex and Noah were friends during the Nanite Project.

[headfullof-ideas]

HELP I JUST CAME UP WITH ANOTHER ANT!ANGST PROMPT-

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking about step 9 and the whole concept of forgiveness of one’s self and others and it bringing healing and how bobby and Eddie have been paralleled a fair amount and the idea that Eddie started this process back at the end of s5 with his forgiveness and acceptance of his father but how he hasn’t yet gone anywhere near his mother and their relationship .

How his catholic guilt storyline seems more likely to play on his reltionship with his mother than his father (if his father wasn’t around that much it would’ve been Helena taking him to church etc each week) so the idea of an Eddie - Helena storyline that plays on catholic guilt and potentially his queerness in relation to that has me chewing on glass - it could be so epically good

[arathejedi394]

i cracked this morning and read the first like 200 words of my og novel that i wrote when i was 13/self-published at 14

and like

why did hank green post it on his instagram with praise?? like i think of it and i cringe. today i re-read the first 200 words and i wanted to stop existing?? why did my mom give him a copy of it i did not ask her to do that??? i just went to one of his concerts in 2014 and my mom just gave the book to somebody and for some reason that somebody gave it to hank green and then suddenly im in the crowd 15yo new best friend bc nerdfighteria and hank green is like "oh somebody gave one of the guys this book just before the show and i took a look at it and i kinda like it it's pretty good" and up he holds none other than my og novel he goes "a 14yo wrote this and it's pretty good this affirms my faith in humanity or something like a very young not-adult did this whole novel and it's not bad that's cool" idk what he said it was 10 years ago. and there's me in the crowd freaking the fuck out i say to my new bff who i had just met at the beginning of the concert bc we were standing next to each other like "BRO THAT'S MY BOOK" new bff is like "BRO THAT'S YOUR BOOK???" and starts jumping up and down for attention like "YO THAT'S THIS GUY'S BOOK" hank green hears points at me and goes "HEY HE'S RIGHT THERE YOUR BOOK'S PRETTY COOL KID" AND THEN!!! HE FUCKING PUT IT ON HIS INSTA??? AND PRAISED IT??? THE STICKY NOTE MY MOM LEFT ON IT WITH LIKE 10 WORDS OF SYNOPSIS STILL ON THE COVER??? ALL OF HIS INSTA FOLLOWER'S SAW MY MOM'S HANDWRITING??? AND MY WHOLE ASS INITIALS + LAST NAME??? A COMPLIMENTARY REVIEW BY HANK GREEN HIMSELF??? WHY?? WHY WAS MY 15 MINUTES OF FAME THAT CRINGE ASS Y/A NOVEL???

nobody go looking back at hank green's 2015 insta. do not confirm this is true. let this be a totally unverifiable claim of some rando fandom blogger.

listen. i was 13 when i wrote that book. i was so full of brand new baby teen angst. i do not understand why hank green did not open the book flip through a couple pages go "oof this kid needs a therapist and a writing coach" and never mention it again. i do not understand why he mentioned it on stage, i don't know why he put it on his instagram, it was so bad. ohmygod. i wish i could forget it ever happened

eXCEPT I CAN'T

bc iT wAs SuPpOsEd TO BE A TRIOLOGY. aNd I ONLY WROTE ONE. AND MY PARENTS ARE STILL ASKING ME WHEN BOOK TWO IS COMING.

IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS.

[juneiper-art]

not taking romanced heinrix with you in act 3 is so oooo... the Lord Captain gets back from Torture RealmTM and is like, *you* look like shit

[fujobobby]

may's last moments with bobby were really about how she doesnt have a room in their house and that's it .

[patchwork-crow-writes]

94 - At Cross Purposes

...I want you to know that I'm not mad at you, okay?

...I'm not.

As I see you stand before me, your eyes looking anywhere except the space I occupy, I suppose that you must have a reason for doing what you've done. And it must be a very, very good reason, to have risked the threat of the Roaring in your very own home.

I don't doubt that for an instant, my light. But it doesn't change the fact that you completely disregarded everything I warned you about not a day earlier. And I'm not going to lie - that fact pains me to my very soul.

It hurts because I thought that you, of all people, would at least have said something to me about your intentions... that you would have at least had the courtesy to let me know that you had heard me, and that you had understood me.

I need you, my dear - I need you to remember that your choices. Do. Matter. Okay? I meant it when I said that to you, I did. But with those choices must also come responsibility. Would you have been ready to face the consequences, had the worst happened? Would you have had the strength, the will, to accept your role in that mistake?

I want to say I believe that you could, but... I honestly don't know. It is only thanks to dumb luck that we do not have to deal with those problems right now... but next time you decide to be so reckless, we might not be so fortunate.

Never forget - you're a hero now, whether you like it or not. It's time for you to start acting like one.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 94

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[masterfuldoodler]

If half alive has 1000 fans I am one of them. If half alive has 1 fan, I am that fan

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[dialalagirl]

Scenario a love triangle between Azusa, Kanato and a 'doll' who Kanato kidnapped to be his perfect doll

*based on a fic my friend and I thought of*

~Unmade~ Azusa lingered in the shadowed corner, watching Kanato rearrange the doll like a fragile thing—its glassy eyes locked in an eternal stare, distant and mute. The room felt too small, suffocating with the weight of quiet desperation.

"She’s perfect," Kanato cooed, too sweet for something so sharp.

Azusa’s chest tightened. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t what made her unbearable. She was still. She was nothing. And yet, Kanato’s hands, trembling with a tenderness Azusa could never touch, shaped her—formed her into something unbreakable, untouched by time.

“She’s mine,” Kanato whispered--the words soft like a breath on a blade--and Azusa wanted to scream.

But the doll, that hollow thing, never blinked, never moved.

Azusa’s pulse drummed in his ears. She will never be real.

And neither would he.