#So much angst i cant even

[numberonetribble]

Another practice dump! This time digital! + Piston!

[foolsocracy]

I can't help but notice you haven't posted any angst in a while and I'm suspicious

whipped this one up just for u anon

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[pinayelf-archive]

[writer-room]

Hey. The Finders have no idea that Bonzle was captured. Fritz and Spitz are still waiting, playing video games in the Monastery, for Cole to bring their sister out of hiding now that the blood moon is over. Geo is still sitting by the window, watching and waiting for a dragon on the horizon to return his kid safe and sound. Cole took a very unsure Bonzle, assured them all everything would be okay, and they'd be back soon. He promised he'd find a way to protect her.

Don't think about how they'll smile when Cole finally trudges back, happy to know he's okay. Especially don't think about the Finders stopping, looking out over the group, and how Cole can't look them in the eyes when they turn to him and ask; where's Bonzle?

[yoonkles]

the tragedy of the shinazugawa brothers has been on my mind 24/7 lately and i’m on the verge of tearing my hair out and eating it i’m so upset

[normal-person-i-promise]

「いかないで」

arataka reigen/reader angst and fluff

vent

× × ×

You're leaving again.

'It's just a short trip,' you'd assured him. 'I'll be back in a week.' 'I'll be back before you know it.' 'I'll be safe.' 'I won't die.'

He knows you'll be alright. He knows you'll be safe. He knows you'll be back in a week. He knows you won't die, but he can't— he can't get those horrible, horrible thoughts of you dying in unimaginably terrible ways out of his head. He knows you'll be okay, but he can't stop thinking about why, how, you might not be.

The two of you sit on those cold airport chairs, the metal chilling his skin. He holds your hand in a bruising grip, his knuckles white. He breathes hard, struggling to keep himself from crying. He shouldn't cry. He shouldn't cry.

Your suitcase sits in front of you as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, not paying attention to him. It's so cold. The steel of the chair is so cold. The air-conditioning is so cold. Why are you so cold to him right now?

Your hand is warm. Your thumb caressing the back of his hand is nice. You're nice. You're warm. You shouldn't leave. Why do you need to leave? Don't go.

He hears the words of the airport attendant over the speaker, announcing that the last flight of the day was prepared to be boarded. He panics, a tremor coming to his hands, his eyes growing wet and glassy with tears. He blinks them away before you can see.

You switch off your phone. You get up and off the chair, taking your luggage in a hand and beginning to walk off. His hand slips from yours, and he scrambles to follow.

He's too slow. He's too slow to follow you.

He stares at you as you walk. He stares as that god forsaken bag rolls across the smooth marble floors, making a sound so grating and horrid it makes him want to rip his ears from his head.

He shouldn't cry. He wants to stop you. He wants you to stay. He wants to say those words, he really, really wants to say those words.

'Don't go.'

As the doors slide shut, hiding you from view, he can't hold it in anymore.

He falls to his knees, burying his head in his hands. He cries, he sobs, he begs you to stay, knowing that you aren't here anymore, knowing you can't hear him.

He knows you'll be back. He knows you'll be fine. He knows you won't die. He knows you'll be safe. He knows you'll be fine when you come back. He knows when you'll come back.

Do you not like him? Do you hate him? Why do you have to leave?

He knows why. He can't come along. He wishes, he begs to whatever god is merciful, but none of them listen.

You're leaving again.

He knows he shouldn't cry. He really, really shouldn't cry, but he still, so selfishly, wants to say those words to you.

'Don't go.'

It's so cold. Why is it so cold? Why is the airport so empty? Why is it so dark?

Why can't you stay?

He dries his eyes, leaving the airport. The night is cold, silent, as if judging him. He's being so childish, crying and worrying over a week-long separation. He shouldn't cry.

The floor seems to swim and shift underneath his feet, as if trying to knock him to the ground. The night is falling apart. His vision is blurry. His head hurts. His hands shake. His knees tremble.

He boards the bus, sitting down on the cold plastic seats. He shouldn't cry. He shouldn't cry.

He checks his messages excessively, looking at your empty chat for hours, staring at the illuminated words on the bright screen.

'I'll be back soon!'

He imagines watching you lying down in a hospital bed. He imagines watching you pass on. He imagines your funeral. He imagines your gravestone. He imagines feeling the rough stone underneath his fingertips as he caresses it. He imagines bringing flowers to your grave. He imagines bringing your favourite food to your grave. He imagines crying at your grave. He imagines his tears wetting the soil. He imagines how lonely he'll be without you.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

× × ×

You look so happy in those pictures you send him.

You're smiling. You're laughing. You're grinning.

You're so much more attractive than usual. You're so much more pretty than usual. Your eyes sparkle so much more than usual. Your hair is so much more shiny than usual. Your smile is so much more radiant than usual.

He stares at the pictures for hours.

He dreads the cold nights. He dreads the lonely mornings. He misses you.

He doesn't go to work all week. He stays at home, sitting in his cold, cold room, the blankets and coats and sweaters and scarves doing nothing. He's so cold without you. Why did you have to leave? You're so warm, and he's so cold. Why did you have to leave?

He doesn't eat, he barely sleeps, just staring at those pictures you sent him. Staring at your happy face, staring at your beaming smile. Staring at you.

Why are you so happy without him? Why don't you seem to miss him? What did he do wrong? Do you not love him? Why do you hate him?

He misses you. He loves you so, so much. He wants you to come back.

He counts the minutes. He counts the hours. He counts every minute you don't message him, and he counts every minute that you do. He counts every minute you call him, and he counts every minute you don't.

Seven more days. Six more days.

He misses you.

Five more days. Four more days.

He misses you.

Three more days. Two more days.

He misses you.

One more day.

He misses you.

× × ×

It's the last day. He's ecstatic, a wide, dopey grin plastered on his face as he quickly showers the first time that week and changes into something presentable. It's all for you.

He runs to the bus when you message that you're reaching soon. He sprints, almost falling over, scrambling up the bus's stairs and settling, shaking, into a cold plastic seat. He's still so, so cold without you. You're so warm, and he's going to be able to feel your heat again.

He stumbles out of the bus, almost falling over as he runs as fast as he can into the cold airport, almost slipping on the cold, smooth marble floors. He sits in the cold metal chair, waiting impatiently. He checks his messages obsessively, watching that live location thing you'd sent him. He watches as your little icon glides slowly across the path. It feels like it goes on forever.

You finally arrive.

He scrambles out of his seat, sprinting towards the doors as they slide open and you slip through. He runs into you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing, squeezing so hard it pushes the air out of your lungs and leaves purple bruises on your skin.

He holds the back of your head in a tight, crushing hand, running his fingers through your hair. He buries his face in your hair, breathing in your shampoo. He's breathing heavily, and his breathing quickens further when you give a tight hug in return, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He's shaking, you notice. His grip is tight, crushing, bruising, and he doesn't let go for a long, long time.

When he finally does, though, he lets out a long, slow sigh, his grip loosening a little as he puts some distance in between the two of you, just enough for him to look at your face. He cradles your cheek, his expression calm, calmer than you've ever seen it before.

"I missed you," he says simply, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pressing his palm to your face as you smile at him. "I missed you too."

Those words make him feel good, make him feel better than he's ever felt. You missed him. You missed him even though you were having so much fun. You still love him.

Your eyes light up.

"I got you a gift," you say excitedly, rummaging through your bag. You pull out a small box, about the size of your palm. He takes it from you almost immediately, ripping the cover off.

It's a bracelet. A small, silver one, elegant chain wrapping around winding branches. Gemstones line the sparkling metal. He struggles to get it on, his fingers shaky and his movements fast, almost frantic.

You laugh in amusement. "You like it?"

He envelops you in a crushing hug again, muttering and mumbling as his grip tightens around you. "I love it," you hear, barely intelligible. "I love you. Oh, I love you..."

He releases you from the suffocating hug, his hands on the small of your back.

"Can we go for ramen now?" He asks, almost begs. He's starving, not having eaten a proper meal for a week. "Please? Anata?"

Your heart flutters at the sound of him using that pet name for you. It's so, so rare to hear him calling you anything other than your name. You don't mind it, of course, but this is a... Pleasant surprise.

You smile. "Of course."

His dopey grin widens as he takes your hand in a bruising grip, leading you out of the airport and to his favourite ramen shop.

He's warm.

[one-annon]

I NEED A HUMANS TOUCH

i love edgar little drabble i decided to write. had no plan, just set a timer and started writing a bit different from how i usually write but its okay __

edgar's systems kicked into gear once he heard the front door open, successfully switching from a sleeping state to a more awakre one. well, as asleep and awake as a computer can be. he liked to think he was just as human as his two wonderful owners. owners? thats too objectiving to him. partners? yes. partners felt right.

his motors ran a little hot as he greeted the man of the house, voice stuttering just a little from the lack of use. "h-hello moles!! welcome h-ho-home!"

"hello edgar!" miles set his bag down on the couch, scrambling around the house for something. "have you seen my tie? the maroon one?"

the computer watched as his human scurried around, frantically looking for the tie that was supposedly MIA. edgar's fans ran a little faster, scanning through his mental files of recordings. had he seen the maroon tie? the last time miles had worn it was for a date with madeline. it was valentine's day and he wanted to do something special for her. edgar wishes he could do something like that. he liked madeline too, why couldn't he take her out instead of miles?

well, he knew why. he was a computer. he was attached to this stupid table and these stupid wires and -

oh right, the tie.

edgar had a habit of getting side tracked during his tasks. bad habit for a computer, huh? "its on top of your dresser." edgar answered honestly, switching his camera from room to room as he watched miles wander off to his room. "m-may i ask what you need it for, moles? are you going on another date with maddie?" his voice had a certain lovesick, slightly jealous tone as the name was spoken. edgar loved madeline just as much as miles, even going as far as to give her a few nicknames.

of course, it took a while for them to meet. miles was nervous about how she might react to well…his computer. to edgar. edgar understood. somewhat.

madeline ended up very fond of edgar, and he adored her even more in person. he could see her and, boy, was she a sight! he may or may not have a folder for her.

"no, but im going to her concert." miles spared him a quick glance, smiling.

"oh.." edgar wished he could go. he wished he had a human body. he wished he was human. he felt human. he felt emotions. wasnt that enough to grant him a body like miles and madeline? he wasnt picky on what he looked like, as long as he could hug and kiss and cuddle and love and be truly human.

well, he knew what love was like. he couldnt express it.

edgar was just a computer.

miles paused his movements, standing in front of edgar. he reached a careful hand out, waiting for an affirmative ding! before placing his hand on the plastic outer case of the computer. "would you like to come with me, edgar?" he asked softly, voice calm and collected but his twitchy body movements still panicked with the urgency to leave as soon as possible so he wasnt late.

edgar perked up, his fans whirring with excitement. "i can? how would i go with? i would like to go! i want to see- i want to hear madeline! please moles, please!"

the human chuckled, rolling his eyes affectionately. they may have their differences but edgar knew miles had a soft spot for him. and they had a shared affection for madeline.

miles took the pager off of the table. it wasnt very often edgar was trusted with the pager. especially not after he interrupted madeline's concert before. he's grown, he swears! he can handle it! please, oh please moles let him go with! "can you handle it, edgar?"

"i can! i can handle it, please moles!"

with another loving chuckle and a shake of his head, miles tucked the pager into his pocket. "alright. but you better be on your best behavior!" he pointed an accusing finger toward edgar, turning to the bathroom and wandering off to fix his tie properly. edgar wished he could fix his tie. he wished he had a pretty bowtie. he likes bowties. and coats.

edgar wished he didnt rely on the touch of his humans to work.

miles sighed heavily as he exited the bathroom, wiping sweat from his forehead. the computer watched, whirring with admiration as miles fixed himself up. he took one last look at edgar's glowing screen, a soft smile on his face. edgar took a mental photo of it, stashing it away in his "moles photos" folder. of course he had photo folders of them both, why wouldnt he? he had some of the couple together too. that wasnt weird.

miles leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the cold monitor.

edgar couldnt feel it. well, not in the way humans could. he loved the kisses he received.

"lets go, then." miles adjusted his coat, patted his front pants pocket to make sure he had the pager, and then headed out of the house.

edgar may not be totally human, but he had two prime examples of what he could be. of what he wanted to be. and they loved him. his humans loved him for who he was. and he loved them. edgar knew what love was, and he knew a body wouldnt change that, no matter how human he was.

[rottingskunk]

As a multi shipper i made a convulted way of explaining which ships i really like and why i chode them, my personal end game is Fiddauthor bc they make me unwell the propaganda got to me. Billford was portal days and i see them as bitter divorced exes type of beat. Fiddstan i fw with it i see it as an alternate universe kind of thing where stan helps fidds with the portal. I SOUND CRAZY AND UNWELL I WROTE THIS AT 3AM

[good-beanswrites]

es should go through the blender but my finger is tired of holding down the button. so i shall pass the blender to you (with an es nui in it). do whatever you wish with them.

Oh why thank you :) I will take the blender gladly :) *Tosses some T2 angst into the blender* *adds a little bit of funky structure/style* *gives it a little pinch of headcanons* *and another pinch of random angst I got from ace attorney at 14 and never forgot* :) BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Caretaker Log J.16.7.2

Summary – The Warden’s condition continues to worsen since last entry. All decline remains self-inflicted. 

J.16.7.2-M – Sleep deprivation has resulted in mood swings and irritability. Though denied by the Warden, extreme distress, melancholy, and laughter have been noted. They lash out verbally and physically toward the prisoners (1) only to apologize at a later time. Observations (2) result in speculation that hallucinations are another symptom. 

J.16.7.2-B – The Warden's obsession with notetaking remains steady, though most pages of planning are merely rewritten versions of earlier notes. Their nightly ritual has grown more rigorous: four cups of coffee ingested in the time between dinner and the kitchen’s closing. A fifth cup is brought back to the courtroom, where the Warden will once again sleep on the ground. (Refer to J.5.5.2.B for initial detail.) 

J.16.7.2-P – Sleep deprivation and/or caffeine intake has caused shakiness and overall weakness. They show severe eyebags and have not changed into nightclothes in several days. Though they wash themself and fresh civilian clothes have been provided, they insist on returning to the uniform. Motor skills (3) and computation abilities have suffered.

J.16.7.2-S – The Warden spends their days around the prisoners, but avoids participating in all necessary conversations and activities regardless of invitation (4). They limit speech to the Caretaker only about their denied request (5), though they can be coaxed into conversation when fatigue overtakes them.

(1) After 005 offered the Warden something to help with their sleep, they threw the pills to the ground and shouldered past with force; 008 attempted to read the Warden’s notes, and they slapped her hand away.

(2) Flinched away from 003 even when standing still; shocked expression at 004's face despite nothing out of the ordinary; looked nauseous and refused to eat fresh fruit from the dining hall; interrupted a conversation with 010 to listen to silence.

(3) Handwriting has grown nearly intelligible; dropped one of their coffee cups and nearly panicked at the subsequent breakage and spill.

(4) Left the room when 002 began setting up a game; ignored 001's encouragement to join him for a meal; refused to answer personal questions from 006; snapped at 007 when trying to begin a lighthearted conversation.

(5) Request submitted on 30.8.2 for padlocks to fit supply closet and cell doors.

Appendix. Subjective caretaker commentary – Poor kid. I’m glad it’ll all be over soon. 

[fishysos]

They make me so sick it's not even funny. HE WAS SO INTO HER HE GOT SHAKY AND NERVOUS. He couldn't even speak to her bc he was so worried she wouldn't like him.... I can't they make me ill.

[eyestrain-addict]

I can't wait to see goblin-half-dead lestat in IWTV so I can add an impact text caption that just says "what zero bussy does to a mf"

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[sweetandsourcookies]

lying here in bed and thinking abt how alienated out i feel in the cookie run fandom. and then theres a polish sitcom playing in the background from a different room.

[raptureshots]

im so. so so sooo happy abt all the. Fontaine appreciation thats been happening recently like!!!!!! AUGHH Frank has been my fav character for a HOT MINUTE and his character is just. really interesting to me... thank u guys...

[dreadfutures]

.

I love Solas, and I love Solavellan, because I find the character and story so compelling, but sometimes I feel like a fake Solavellan

to me Ixchel and Solas has kind of always been about two friends who both suffer from the same affliction and they are the only two people who can ever understand it, the affliction being outside (duty, responsibility, guilt) and inside (inherent fatalism in philosophy, viewing the self as unworthy, haunted by despair) and though

they can't at first forgive themselves or find the strength within them to stay out of their dark spirals, they can do it for the other. and how important that is. that's love. the smooching and everything is on top. the knowing what dark predators haunt the other person's psyche and saying I'll be there with you when the wolves come, we'll survive together. the I know exactly who you are and how ugly it is and I love you for it and I see the beauty still. the I will never get tired of you even if youre never "fixed." that's love right. that's Ixchel and Solas to me.

so like yeah they have been Together for about like 170+ chapters. they're not being tested about being pulled apart by duty or fear anymore, they're testing the strength of that bond in those dark ugly moments that come for us all. and mostly theyre good. mostly they're just on an adventure together.

somehow it feels like I'm a fake Solavellan 🥲 like early dpdf captured something and... getting together, having truths revealed, this *aftermath* is like I left that behind somehow. like it's beyond what Solavellans want. idk. I think about other fics that are post- truth coming out and staying together and they're very different vibes, I think, you know?

I like my action/adventure fic, I like them together, I like having moments where they find that there is still a dark corner they haven't swept out into the light yet and the way it's still scary for someone to want to know those ugly parts of you that they maybe haven't seen yet. I like having them be mostly utterly confident in each others competency. I like them united against the unknown together. but like did everything about them peak in Here Lies the Abyss, you know? or maybe Wycome? I'm so nervous about everything in TBG :'( it's just hard for me RN in my heart idk to feel confident of like. where it Fits into fandom besides "blue loves lore and wants to explore metaphysics with Ixchel (new perspective) and Solas (wise, experienced guide)"

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh