#angst drabble

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

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Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[shukein]

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿(𝘀): 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝘆, 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗻 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿: 𝗴𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿(𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘀) 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻(𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁), 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 (𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲), 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟱𝟱𝟵

𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

it has been almost seven months now, and nothing has happened. nothing.

crowley has yet to still find you a way home, dealing with multiple overblots has become far too tiring to deal with, and having to be the one to solve everyone's problem was too much.

where was your help? why hasn't anyone helped you get back home?

sure, the last few months in twisted wonderland have been lots of fun, but you still didn't belong here. you don't belong here.

you just wanted to go back home, even if that meant dealing with the pain of leaving everyone else that you care deeply for.

"Headmage?" you call out to the man, opening the large door into his office. the man was sitting near his desk, seemingly busy with a bunch of paperwork that was scattered on the table.

he'd shift his gaze up away from the papers, a wide grin spreading across his lips as he dropped his pen. "Ah, well if it isn't Ramshackle's Prefect! What may I be of help to you?"

his voice booms loudly, watching as you approach his desk, fiddling with your fingers. "Uhm... I just wanted to know if there was anything that you found... to help me get home?"

with those words alone, crowley's grin faltered slightly, and you already seemed to know what his answer would be.

"A.. Ah! Right, I am... uh, I'm still looking into it of course! Just a little delayed with... uh, well, with all this paperwork. But worry not, I'll find you a way back home soon enough!"

and it's taking you six months?

you would let out a sigh of disappointment. you knew how this would end, but you had hoped with how long had passed that maybe, just maybe, crowley would've found something.

"Well, I still have a lot of work right now, so how about you hurry along now. You wouldn't want Grim causing any trouble now, right?" the man would shoo you away, and you'd find yourself leaving his office soon enough.

"Hah... what a letdown."

"-ease! Please! Just help me find a way back!" you yelled, screaming desperately for the person's assistance.

"Why should I?" their voice was cold, filled with nothing. a void of any emotion as tears welled in your eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be the one helping people? Why would I be doing your job?"

you could only stay silent as tears streamed down your cheeks, staring at the person before you.

"How about you go and kill yourself and see if you'll get home that way."

you immediately sat up, panting heavily as you looked around the room. you'd lean back against the headboard, trying to catch your breath as your gaze shifted over to the side of you to see grim's sleeping form.

"Fuck..." you brought your hands up to cover your face, feeling all the tears coming out again.

you sobbed quietly in your hands, staying as quiet as possible to keep from waking the feline next to you. fuck! fuck! fuck!

"Is there really no way of going back...?" your voice croaked, wiping the tears away as you stared down at the small beast next to you, moving one hand down to pet his small, chubby body.

"It's ok. Crowley will find something soon. I just gotta keep hoping for it."

©SHUKEIN. please do not translate or repost any of my work on any other platform, or claim any of it as your own. 2024

[localcanadiancreature62]

My Thoughts on Fiddlestan

Okay you people are literally all or nothing with these mfs,like it's either all gut wretching angst or all tooth rotting fluff. So i raise you,"what if it was both?" aka i made them have a good time but they also have Issues ✨. @misteria247 you might wanna see this one cuz i know you love Fiddlestan lol.

So first things first,their first meeting. They would meet soon after the portal incident when Fidds' sanity is slowly starting to slip from the first several usages of the memory gun and he ends up going to Ford's house after having a vague familiarity with the place as well as a desire to make amends with his friend while he still remembers him,only for him to see Stan at the door. A man wearing his best friend's face. Stan lets the guy in while still keeping the ruse of pretending to be his brother after he just faked his death,trying his hardest to pretend that he knows what Fidds is talking about regarding the portal and Ford's time in college.

A few weeks pass,and Fidds get the slight suspicion that he's not actually talking to Ford as "Ford" brushes off his science-y ramblings with "I don't understand" or "I'm too tired to hear about it maybe later",when he knew that the real Ford would know exactly what he's talking about regarding his ideas for modern computers or Schrodinger's cat as well as gladly ramble along with him even if it's 2am at the time instead of ignoring it. He also realizes that "Ford" surprisingly knows nothing about anomalies and either tries to shoo creatures away or just beats the hell out of them rather than studying them whenever they have an encounter with gnomes or something,plus the fact that he gets jumpy whenever an eye-bat appears. Fidds is still sane enough to notice these "tells" and so he confronts the man about it despite Stan already being nervous about not being able to keep up the act. Stan decides to come clean after the southern man literally backed him into a corner while interrogating him about who he is and where the real Stanford is,he explains the truth about Ford's disappearance and that he's trying to fix the portal while having no idea about how his brother's science mumbo jumbo works. Fidds' expression of anger and fear changes into guilt sympathy and even intrigue as he regrets trying to aggressively gouge the man for answers,when the grifter turned out to care about Ford all along instead of selfishly stealing his life for success. He wondered about Stan's relation to Ford and the man explains that he's Ford's twin brother and that they had a rough patch in their brotherly relationship which lead to this whole mess. Fidds then offers to help fix the portal since he's the one who co built it and Stan couldn't be more than happy,although with the condition of no more lies as that impersonation fiasco genuinely scared him which Stan agrees to. They didn't get along at first with Stan's stubborn personality and tendency to tease others at random while Fidds was just really tired and he wanted to get Ford back so that he can get out of this whole mess,but they managed.

Throughout the building of the portal,the two begin to bond regarding their history with Ford and how the man inadvertently screwed them over with his ego. Then talking about how they always felt inferior in comparison to everyone else (Stan with Ford,Fidds with his rough and tumble ranch family who roughhoused constantly while he was a scrawny nerd),discovering that they weren't so different as they thought. Stan ends up taking his partnership with Fiddleford more seriously as he soon realizes that they only have each other,while Fidds starts to humor Stan's teasing and occasional goofing off since he doesn't have anyone else to turn to with Emma may and Tate still refusing contact from him ever since the divorce (just so that Fidds wouldn't yknow. cheat on his wife). They soon become friends who often look out for each other with Stan trying to stop Fidds from overworking himself while Fidds teaches Stan about quantum physics as he tries really hard to understand despite being the "dumb" twin.

Fidds' use of the memory gun becomes less frequent as he didn't have a reason to blast himself with it anymore due to finally having someone that understands his troubles with Ford and the darn triangle feller,no longer feeling as though he had to forget everything as he had someone to talk to about all of this (i mean in canon he wouldn't never went insane if Ford fucking talked to him and explained why he's still going through with the portal with his desperate desire for approval). Stan sees his steadfast love and support be appreciated by someone besides his ungrateful brother,while Fidds sees his unwavering loyalty and handmade gifts be cherished by someone who cares rather than ignored by his egotistical friend.

The fact that the two found someone who cared even when they have their own troubles means a lot to them,this steadfast love and concern was what made Fidds and Stan slowly fall for each other. Stan finally found someone who appreciates him and sees him as worthy even with his many mistakes or occasional stupidity while Fidds finally found someone who won't waste his loyalty and kindness in favor of their own selfish wishes (*cough* Ford *cough*). They're finally happy,after dealing with so much pain. They had their happy ending,or did they? 😏.

While they WERE in a healthy and loving relationship,things weren't all sunshine and rainbows. Stan outright refuses to talk about his problems in fear of being a burden to his nerd plus the emotional walls he put up were too strong even when he tries to be open toward the southern man which always ends in him not wanting to talk about it,meanwhile Fidds opts to metaphorically run away from his issues by using the memory gun to forget every argument and misunderstanding he had with the drifter (which were mostly caused by the memory gun in the first place). Whenever they have a problem with something that the other does that isn't related to the portal,they don't set boundaries they don't talk about it they don't confront the other about it,they do NOTHING.

Fidds slowly starts to go insane again as he starts forgetting about Stan at times with his use of the memory gun whenever they have an argument which is a LOT of arguments as every couple doesn't always agree with each other,he lashes out and has a paranoia episode over either imagining Stan being a stranger that wants to hurt him or him being Ford that wants to take revenge on him for quitting the project which obviously upsets the drifter but he doesn't do anything about it as he cannot afford to lose the one thing he has left because of his dumb problems (little does he know,is that he's already doing it. he's already losing Fidds cuz of his issues). Stan on the other hand,starts treating Fiddleford with the same codependency that he gave Ford with him expecting the hillbilly to always be there for him and always put HIS interests at heart despite the man having his own wants and needs with his Mcgucket Labs project. Thus Fidds is being taken for granted again while Stan is confused and angry over why this hick is ignoring him and trying to abandon him like Ford did (Stanley your brother issues are showing).

It only gets worse in the moments culminating to Fidds' insanity,where Stan doesn't even know who his hillbilly partner anymore while Fidds is completely unaware of the torment he's putting Stan through with his erratic behavior and amnesiac ramblings. Stan was there for the tapes,he was behind the camera with every transition as the southern man told him it was a little experiment regarding the memory gun and he believed that at first only to soon realize that Fidds was literally frying his own brain with that gun after reading his notes about the electricity that erases the memories plus the side effects of prolonged use. By the time Fidds had that car crash,he quit the project again and stopped seeing Stan as he left the drifter alone to fix the portal by himself albeit with more knowledge of how it works due to the various quantum mechanics lessons the man drilled into him. He just needed to figure out the elaborate codes to actually activate it. Stan missed Fidds as he was guilty about their last interaction being an argument about the memory gun and even encountered him but with a new red robe while the man went on and on about some memory cult,but he knew that the man is too far gone for him to make amends with.

Stan then ended up using Fidds' Mcgucket Labs money to support himself but then he realized that it won't be enough as that business was just a start up gig that didn't had the chance to become successful due to the portal and the memory gun,so he had to come up with another way to survive all alone. Then he went to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store and saw that everyone was interested in Ford's weird mad scientist house,taking everyone there as he saw that people's interest in the freaky things in that house would make great revenue for him. The Mystery Shack (originally the Murder Hut) was born,and Stan had finally left his life of being a miserable grifter behind. However.. he still saw his Fiddleford rummage in the trash or make killer robots in the news sometimes. He yearns for what could've been yet he shakes his head as he knew what he had with the nerd was currently unsalvageable in his current insane state.

[k0dzukeiji]

imagining a toxic relationship with Kenma

timeskip kenma x gn!reader

genres: angst

warnings: toxic relationship, cheating

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Toxic Kenma who only dated you to find out your weaknesses

“Who is that?”

“Them? That’s (Name)”

“They seem… interesting.”

“Yeah? Well don’t get your hopes up, they don’t warm up to people very easily.

“Is that so…”

Toxic Kenma who started to ignore you

“Kenma, want to go to the café after your stream?”

“…”

“Kenma?”

“…”

“Kenma did you hear me-“

“Can you just leave me alone? can’t you see im busy?”

Toxic Kenma who at first treat you like his priority, choosing you over his games. but slowly over time, he began to prioritize his streaming and games over you.

“Kenma want to go out? I heard theres this—“

“No, a new game came out today. I promised my viewers I’d play it.”

“O-oh… okay…”

Toxic Kenma who gaslights you into thinking it’s your fault. he lost a game and you so happened to have walked into the room? It’s your fault. he broke his controller? It’s your fault. he didn’t like the dinner so he threw it away? your fault again. he lost interest and cheated on you? its your fault. don’t you get it? It’ll always be your fault.

“(Name) can you just stay out when I’m gaming? I always lose when you come in”

“R-right… Sorry Kenma, I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah sure.”

Toxic Kenma who cheats on you cause he got bored of you

“Why…?”

“I got bored.”

“That’s it..?”

“I told you, if you ever got boring, I’d drop you.”

Toxic Kenma who made you think it’s you’re the problem

“It’s not my fault you never paid attention for me”

“What..? What are you saying? I always—“

“Always what? Just walked right past me while I was gaming?”

Toxic Kenma who realized he never got bored of you

“Maybe I didn’t get bored…” He thought as he scrolled through your instagram, watching you be happy with your new boyfriend while he’s here, alone. but then again… whose fault was that?

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yo this lowkey sucks 💀 i wrote it in 10 minutes

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[theesirenteller]

ANGEL TEARS | Jax Teller.

Bunny stood in the doorway, arms crossed as she watched Jax pace back and forth in the dimly lit room. His hands ran through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. The tension between them was palpable, a thick cloud that neither had the courage to dispel.

“I’m not over you,” Jax finally admitted, his voice raw with emotion. He stopped pacing, turning to face Bunny, his eyes pleading for some kind of understanding. “I love her, but...”

“But what?” Bunny cut in, her voice wavering between anger and hurt. “You can’t just say that to me and expect it to be okay. I’m not a consolation prize, Jax.”

Jax took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. “Daydreams of fear, just another tear,” he murmured, almost to himself. “A tear that makes it seem real, again. You don’t understand, Bunny. She flows straight through me, like wine, again.”

“Then why are you here?” Bunny demanded, stepping forward, her eyes locking onto his. “Why come back to me if she’s everything to you?”

Jax looked at her, his expression tortured. “Riding into the Sun… what can I do? You’re everything to me, everything. I can’t quite tell you enough, again. I’m going through it now, back again.”

Bunny shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It’s not that easy, Jax. It’s easy but it depends. You can’t keep doing this, keep tearing me apart every time you’re unsure. I deserve more than this.”

Jax took a hesitant step toward her, his voice barely a whisper. “I know, Bunny. I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know what to do without you.”

Bunny looked at him, the pain in her heart reflected in her eyes. “Then figure it out, Jax. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth it.”

[collisvng]

♠︎♡●WALK OF SHAME○♥︎♤

Pairing ♤ Han Jisung x Fem Reader ☆

Synopsis ♤ You and Han had become friends quite fast.  You loved his writing, he loved your voice. He and Bangchan manage to get you an audition that could potentially start your career as an artist under their company. But things go terribly wrong, resulting in the potential loss of Jisung's friendship. ☆

Warnings ♤ Mentions of: anxiety, panic attacks, brief mention of blood, yelling/screaming, crying, the feeling of being useless, a LOT of angst ☆

Word Count ♤ 1,837 + 8 sm screenshots ☆

THE BEGINNING ♠︎

"What the fuck?!" Jisung yelled after you.

You click-clacked your way ferociously through the halls of the JYP building, faltering a few steps that almost landed you on the ground.

You were running away from your only shot at getting into the company, but you didn't care. The air was leaving your lungs, your eyes became blurry from a combination of dizziness and tears, and for the first time in your life you knew you couldn't handle any sort of pressure. There was guilt and hatred in your eyes; feelings towards yourself and your actions. And worst of all, you had Jisung following after you in the most confused rage you had ever seen before.

For the last two weeks Han had been helping you with your audition. You guys had been friends for a while now ever since meeting at an anime convention that Jisung somehow managed to sneak into unnoticed. One moment you’re chatting it up with a Turnip-Head cosplay that approached you because you were dressed as Sophie Hatter, then the next thing you know you're at the dorms hanging out with Han and his friends. 

After a few failed attempts due to his anxiousness, he eventually invited you to see him work. He took you to the studio and showed you songs he wrote. Each one being passionate excerpts of romance, heartbreak, and acceptance. He was a literary magician in your eyes. And one day, when he heard you singing the chorus to a song he was working on, he never let a moment pass without speaking about it. You were full of surprises, and his brain was full of lyrics he wanted to hear you perform. Eventually, the guys learned about your hidden talent and encouraged you to try to do something with it. Chris was especially encouraging and even tried to sample some of your melodies for background vocals in his own songs.

You guys bonded over your love for anime, video game lore, and your constant praise of each other’s talents. You loved his writing and lyricism. He loved your voice. And eventually… you secretly grew to love more parts of him. He even took the time to write your audition song for you, after the company finally gave you a chance (with the help of Jisung and Chan’s constant pleading).

You became his muse, he became your best friend. And now, with your nails digging into your palms trying to keep yourself calm, you couldn’t even look at him.

He called after you again… And again… And again…

It wasn’t until around the fifth time that you finally spun around and yelled, ‘What the fuck do you want?!’ did he finally stop.

You both stood a great distance away from each other. Partially because Jisung needed space to calm down, and partially because you both knew how you can get in moments of stress. Your eyes widened, then narrowed sleepily as you stared him down. Just one word, one word, and you were ready to blow up in his face. Whether it would be with anger or with tears though, that was a mystery.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out a bit softer than the last time he spoke. “You just walked right out!”

“I couldn’t do it,” your nails were one clench away from drawing blood. “I’m not ready. I told you I wasn’t ready. Now your boss thinks I’m a dumbass.”

Han let out an angry sigh, rubbing his finger tips over his nose before bringing his palms from his chin to his eyes. He pressed inward, as if to push them through his skull.

“You’re not a dumbass,” he huffed, “and you ARE ready. Stop telling yourself you’re not.”

“LOOK AT ME!” You released your hands from their clawed prison to hold them up to show him. The imprints were deep, you were borderline hyperventilating, and your eyes widened once more. If you could see yourself in the third person, you probably would have thought you were crazy. “I look insane, Ji. I’m too anxious for this.”

His hands dropped to his sides, eyes opening slowly. A small vein began to stick out on his neck as he clenched his jaw. Jisung was always understanding and compassionate–the type to listen when people asked him to, responding in the best way he could. But right now, seeing you freak out as he stood in front of you, was setting him off. He knew you had potential. He knew you were capable. And as a person who became an idol himself despite also having anxiety issues, he knew anything was possible as long as you wanted it badly enough. 

“So that’s it?” His blunt tone caught you by surprise. 

Jisung made his way over to you in long strides, practically gliding across the floor. He made it to your side in record time, looking down at you with what little distance there was between both your heights. He looked annoyed, he was annoyed, and he wasn’t about to let you walk out of the building without knowing that he was.

“You’re just going to let this go? Everything Chan and I did to even attempt to give you this opportunity… And because you feel nervous you’re just going to walk out?” An irritated laugh left his throat as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Gosh you always do this.”

You felt your heart on the verge of cracking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Each word that left his mouth next sent you into anguish.

“You never stick to one thing.”

Crack.

“You always need help, but never follow through.”

Crack.

“And you use your anxiety as an excuse to give up.”

And there it was, in its final form; heartbreak.

You were no longer present in your body. Arms limp, eyes glossy, a hitched breath in your throat, and no emotion shown on your face. You almost looked bitchy, but in a ‘I no longer have anything to lose’ kind of way. You wanted to fight him, but also wanted nothing more than for this end and to just hug him. You couldn’t believe someone you grew so close to in such a short time would end up being like this.

“I think you, of all people,” you took a step forward, the tip of your nose practically meeting his chin as your glass eyes searched his, “would know how messed up that last statement is.”

He leaned down to meet your gaze. Pupils to pupils, nose to nose, mouth to–fuck what kind of shit was trying to pull? You wanted to punch him, but with him being so close like that for the first time your mind was running laps. But that all ended the moment he said, “At least I’m not letting my problems get in the way of my own opportunities.”

That was the final straw. The overstimulation in your brain took over and your whole body began frantically shaking. Jisung being so close, his anger, the mix of emotions in your head, wanting to sob, feeling ashamed for walking out of your only shot at the career you’ve always wanted, knowing that your friend saw you as nothing but someone who gives up… 

It took Han a moment before he realized you were finally in full panic attack mode. Harsh breaths expelled themselves from your mouth as you vibrated from your torso upward. You were flexing and unflexing your hand as if you needed to grab something, and your eyes were no longer looking into his, but blankly staring at something in the distance to hyperfixate on something other than what was happening. He took a step back, his big boba eyes filling with concern.

He pushed you too hard. He let his emotions get the best of him. He did it; he fucked up. 

“Shit,” he mumbled a swear under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Grabbing your hands at the right moment as they unflexed, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Breathe.”

The phrase was repeated over and over, followed by Han squeezing your hand with every intake of oxygen you made. Eventually you found a steady rhythm. And his words, despite you wanting to slap the living hell out of him, were actually helping you calm down.

Once your breathing became stable, you and Han stood there in silence. You came down from your panicked high and once that was done… you didn’t really know where to go from there.

With Han’s fingers still laced with yours, he tried to step forward. It caused you to flinch, almost stumbling backwards, which filled him with dread. “Listen, I–”

“Thanks for calming me down,” you released his hands instantly. “But I think I need some space from you right now.”

His lips came forward into a pout, as puppy dog eyes met your blurry vision. You could tell he was remorseful for what just happened, but it wasn’t enough for you to stay and hear him out. You needed to be as far away from this place and him as soon as possible.

As you turned to walk away, Jisung tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm to pull you back. But he was immediately stopped by the sound of Bangchan’s voice echoing across the hall.

“Don’t.” His voice was stern and blunt. It almost sent a shiver down your spine. “Let her leave. She’s been through enough.”

Han looked over his shoulder at Chris, then back to you. His hand remained floating in mid-air, while sudden realization began to set in for you. When did Chan get here? How much did he notice? Was he here the whole time? Who else–

Before you could flare yourself up again, Bangchan was already in front of you grabbing ahold of Han’s shoulder and pulling him to the side. He told you to leave, followed by saying he’d text you later. Then without letting Jisung get a word in, you left. The last thing you remember before exiting was hearing Chan ask Han what the hell he was thinking, then next thing you know you were pushing through a set of double doors and running.

That night you received several texts from a group chat that Felix randomly made that included everyone except for Han. Apparently there were already rumors being spread about your conversation with Jisung and all the guys knew. You also received many texts from Bangchan and Jisung himself.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You would never be able to show your face around the JYP building ever again. And to make matters worse… You probably lost a friend.

Notes ♤ AHHHHHHH! It’s finally done! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Figured since I am best at writing angst that I should start off my page with it lol Depending on how things go, this might turn into a two part mini series. We’ll just test out the waters for a bit and see how it goes. Thanks for reading! 🩶 — collisvng✨️

[parvulous-writings]

The Loop // Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish drabble(ish)

Warnings: Repeated main character death. Mention of gun wounds, and bombs. Spoilers for Operation Trojan Horse/MW3 Reboot's ending.

Words: 1.1k

Notes: What a hell of a fandom debut, eh? I have a few ideas similar to this one.... Ough... Lots of thoughts...  My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

John wasn't entirely sure how long this had been going on for. How many times he had seen the same ceiling in the morning, the same people outside, had the same conversations over and over again. The first few times he thought it was just an odd, deja-vu fever dream. 'Okay, this time, it'll change. This time, it'll be tomorrow. This time, everyone will get to move along.' But, every time it was the same. He didn't know how many times November 21st had come and gone, only to come again the next time the Scotsman opened his eyes. He had lost count somewhere in the teens - which was god knows how long ago now.

Some days, he tried to do things differently, saying different things to those he came into contact with, taking different routes to the destinations he knew he had to be there for. But no matter what details he ended up changing, the day ended up the same way, every time. The Scot rubs his temple a little bit as he sits up, grumbling sleepily as he slowly wakes. He can still feel the violent thrum from what felt like moments earlier, his last few seconds of life before blacking out, and waking up here once more. He could swear that every time the loop restarts, the pain in his temple is even worse than the time before. He ran through everything that his pain addled mind would allow him to - all the details and points that he could remember;

The day would start with Laswell telling the team that Makarov and Konni group were in London, and plan to meet with a hacker. Whatever was on the drive in the hacker's possession - some sort of Trojan Horse virus - allowed Konni to control the trains under the city, that much Johnny had already managed to commit to memory. Makarov will board one of the trains, with intent to try and take over the channel tunnel. When they get further into the tunnel, through the numerous Konni operatives, he and Captain Price will find a guarded bomb. They'll manage to break through the remaining Konni operatives with the help of the Shadow Group, and then he and Price will start to work on defusing the bomb. The next few minutes - the last of Johnny's life - always seem to go so quickly. They're little more than a blur; the reserve Konni soldiers, the momentary stun of being shot by Makarov, the last stand, and then... Momentary pain... Nothing more, and restarting right at the beginning of that day again.

He had tried resisting before, that he could remember. Only once or twice, but he remembered. He had tried shoving Makarov away before he could take that first shot. The first time he had wound up with a shot to the abdomen because of it. It hurt like hell, but he thought he would be able to make it to the next day, with some medical help. But, of course, help never came - seemingly caught up at the other end of the Channel Tunnel. It was slow, and it was painful. He had hated it - and he had hated the panicked, dreaded looks on the faces of his teammates even more. They had tried to hide the direness and eventual hopelessness of his situation from him, but Johnny was no fool. Reckless at times, and certainly impulsive at others, but never a fool. It hadn't taken him as long to bleed out as it felt, but it was still too long. The only good thing about that whole day, was knowing that he had passed in Simon's lap, as the man tried his best to comfort him, in his own way. The second time had been worse - so much worse. He had turned earlier than the first time, anticipating the man's shot, but that had had catastrophic consequences. There was a yell from Price, and then, a bright, burning light. It only lasted for a moment, but by God did it hurt. It felt like his entire being was on fire - and for the briefest second, he could have sworn he smelled burning hair and fabric. Unfortunately that horrid stench had followed him through to the morning, sticking in his nose for the majority of that loop. He learnt from that; keep your attention on the bomb, Johnny. Keep everyone else alive.

A part of John wished that he could be caught in a loop of pretty much any other day. Hell, even some of his most humiliating defeats in his Under 21's football team would be better relived than this - perhaps the shame could be better dealt with than the knowledge that no matter what, no matter what course of action he takes, who he talks to, or what he tries to do to prepare himself, the day will always end with his death. It's set in stone, and to a certain extent, he's come to accept it. In any case, this last day allows him to think back on his life - and even though he can't change a single thing about it - about those good times. Joining the military. Pissing people off constantly as the perpetual F.N.G. Meeting Ghost - spending time with Ghost, even if the man was incredibly closed off. Finding a friend in both Gaz and Price, knowing that no matter the situation they had found themselves in, they had had each other backs. Even now, on this last day, even if the others didn't know it each morning, they looked after one another the best they could. If nothing else, Johnny knew that he could take solace in one thing:

In his last moments, he is surrounded by those he trusts most. Those he would have taken a bullet for anyway - he started to take the mindset that that was what he was doing here, taking a bullet for his team, ensuring their survival, and helping them forward. He could only hope that there were versions of his teammates out there that managed to move on from this day, who made it to November 22nd, and managed to give Makarov everything that he deserved. He supposed, though, that dying amongst his team, even if it hurt them emotionally, was the best thing he could have asked for, given the circumstances. Pushing this flurry of thoughts out of his mind, John took a deep breath, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

It was time for another day.

[maroonswan]

I feel like villian!Bakugo Katsuki would break up with you in the worst way: he never does.

He just disappears from your life.

Doesn't answer your calls or texts.

Never reaches out to you again.

You're just left there staring at your phone at night for weeks on end wondering what you did wrong, shocked that he chose to do this, that for you he's just gone.

[strawberrylips-1211]

angst blurb

I dont know how we got here...I can barely remember how we met, its such a distant memeory almost like a fading dream, a soothing and gentle fantasy. Because that's what it was, a fantastic facade. You were so wonderful, a perfect gentleman. I was enamored in a matter of weeks, you swept me off my feet with such affection, the gifts couldn't compare to how sweet you were, I didn't realize that being so close to such a pretty thing could burn me so.It started off with small things, small comments or remarks, I brushed them off at first. After our first fights you would be the first to apologize. The first to kiss my tears away, I wonder where it went wrong, what happened...no, I mean, I wonder when did your mask start slipping off. Was it when I finally fell into your trap? when was it that you decided that I wasn't worthy enough for your love anymore?

Was it even love?

[tmntxthings]

Can i please hsc or oneshot angst for raph (2018)

∑一Change・゜・。

author’s notes: O.o angst you say? I saw this tiktok and the sound made me so sad!! SO INSPIRATION!

warnings: hurt / no comfort, angst, short, drabble, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph thought, that as long as he tried his best, things would work out.

It seemed simple enough. And in most cases, his best got things done. When it came to his family, he was able to keep his brothers out of trouble for the most part. He was able to provide for them. To distract them from the many problems that surrounded their home as well as stepping up when Dad couldn’t.

It got easier with time. And Dad healed, he became a parent again. Raph didn’t have the same responsibilities that he felt only he could shoulder. But still, it was hard to change those habits. Always feeling the need to carry the burdens. To be the one to fix things.

Communication is always key. Raph learned the hard way that bottling up his emotions only led to having a huge blow up later on. So he did his best when it came to his relationship with you. He didn’t want to be the reason things fell apart between the two of you.

So he did his best.

But as he watched you turn to leave, without even trying to talk to him about what was wrong. He didn’t know what to think. It had to be him. Something had to be wrong with him.

“Y/n!”

He called out to you. But you only shook your head and continued walking further away.

So he went after you. “Can’t we talk about this?” He called after you. His snaggletooth digging into his lower lip nervously as you continued to ignore him.

Slipping past your form before you could reach the ladder that led to the manhole cover. His body a blockade though it wasn’t his intentions to force you to stay. He just wanted to talk to you!

“Please,” he pleaded. “Just tell me what I have to do.” His hand went out, reaching for your own. He couldn’t help himself but try to find any sense of comfort in this moment. He liked your touch. You were warm. You had always been a safe place for him. For his feelings. Even if you were angry with him. “Tell me what I need to change, and Raph will change.”

It would be just that easy for him. He would do anything you wanted. He could be different. Whatever you didn’t like he’d change it. Whatever it was that he did to upset you, he’d make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“…Raph” you said in a solemn tone, tugging your hand away from his hold.

His heart broke. He didn’t reach for you again. But he went down on his knees before you. Making himself smaller. He needed to be smaller.

“No no, Y/n! You make me happy, we make each other happy!” Raph said with absolute certainty. But as your face met his, it was the epitome of hopelessness. “Don’t we?” He cried out in despair. Not understanding. Needing you to spell it out for him. He wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on his own. He wasn’t like Donnie. He wasn’t like Leo.

“I thought-“ your voice broke, the back of your hand going up to cover it as you held back a sudden sob. It was all Raph could do to stay still. To not instantly scoop you into his arms and hold you close. To calm you down and tell you that everything would be okay. He’d fix it. But he stayed in his place as you recovered yourself.

“I thought this could work. When we were young and stupid, but Raph… I’m human and you’re..” the hand covering your mouth went down as it gestured towards Raph’s form. Mutant. Was the word that went unsaid. He was other. He wasn’t human. But he hadn’t thought… you hadn’t seemed to mind…

In those quiet moments where it was just you and him. When you would lean closer than friends would get. How you would constantly text him.

“I just don’t think it’ll work Raph. It was nice to pretend. It was nice to dream. But I’ve got to be realistic. I can’t spend my life down here.”

In the sewers. In the shadows. Raph didn’t want that for you either. Maybe he had been too selfish. For ever thinking that the happiness the two of you shared was something that couldn’t be broken. He had thought his bond with you was so strong.

Slowly, Raph got up from his knees. He shuffled away from the ladder. “Oh,” was all he could say in response. He felt… how did he feel? It was hard to describe. But you didn’t hesitate to linger. You started to climb.

It seemed like this wasn’t something he could fix. He looked down at his hands. Big rough maws. Green. Not to mention the claws. Nothing like a humans. Nothing like yours. His hand closed into a fist as the manhole cover closed overhead.

He was disappointed. That was what he felt. Crazily enough, it was because he couldn’t change for you. Even though he desperately wanted to.

[somemydayy]

this is what losing someone feels like

warning: implied death of loved one, significant other loss, angst may occur.

A loud creaking sound of the door alerted the bartender. They were preparing for a bombardment of drunkards on their last stop. Youths who came for a drink after clubbing, or the occasional regular surge of office workers after a long day on the job. He expected the same from few to far between regulars who always came for a quick drink or two, sometimes more as they drowned down their worries with liquid courage.

But what they least expected was to see, you, and the sight of you was quite horrifying, to be completely honest. Mangled, knotted and twisted hair in what could be described as a rat's nest sat atop your head. Your hair looked messy, and that was putting it nicely. Disheveled, battered jeans that seemed to have way too many rips for comfort, that plain white t-shirt you oddly like to wear on the weekends, and those distinctive recognizable dreadful squeaky shoes he could hear from a mile away. Chapped lips, bloody, and bruised finger nails from that horrific habit of biting your nails whenever your stressed out, or feeling overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotions. He feared you were going to rip out your hair with the way you were gripping onto the roots of your scalp. Your eyes were bloodshot and held a distinctive glassy look to them that he recognized instantly; it was apparent to anyone that looked at you that you had been crying. From the way your mascara was smudged at the corner of your eyes, or the way your nose seemed to remind him of a cherry tomato.

He found himself focusing on your face. He noticed the way your makeup seemed slightly off, and more dewy then usual, or maybe it was the tear streaks dripped all the way down the apple of your cheeks. Oddly enough he thought you looked hypnotizing, similar to that of the heavy rain that was currently thrashing against the windowsill in a recurring stream. Was it the rain, or was it your tears, he didn’t really have the heart to ask.

“Bad day?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t ask you much about why you were doing out so late, it was a apparent to anyone you looked like you needed a break from whatever you found yourself enstrangled in recently.

“I can tell.” He didn’t mean to let it slip past his lips, but his mouth had a mind of its own. And he felt himself shuttering at the thought of being so thoughtless, especially towards you in your current state.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life. I was just worried about you is all.” He stammered out a apology, he was expecting a harsh response, maybe a demand for compensation, a scoff even, but he was taken aback by your reaction or lack therefore of one.

“It’s okay.” her lips were pressed together in a gentle smile as the teardrops fell down her flushed cheeks.

“Burbon?”

There was something about the taste of burbon that reminded me of the way he used to kiss me —gently, but with a bite to it.

“Your favorite, right?” he asks gently, in contrast to her rough swing of the glass against her hand. He stared as she gulped down the drink in one fell swoop.

She drank down her grief like it was the finest wine. Like it was the purest blood. After a while, she can never tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

“Umm, no. It wasn’t my favorite, but I grew to like the taste.”

Actually burbon was never really her favorite, she only drank it because it was his.

You reply it over, and over like a broken record stuck on repeat. The memory overflows, and spills out into a harsh wave of regret, heartache and despair. The memories are so vivid, it’s so beautiful and painstakingly solemn at the same time.

“Bourbon is a type of whiskey, much the way that Champagne is a type of wine. So all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon.”

“I don’t get it.”

“All Bourbon is whiskey but not all whiskey is a bourbon.”

“Still don’t get it.”

“I hear they just opened up a new bar on main street, I’ll take you to there, next time. Maybe try some burbon while we’re at it.”

“I don’t think trying burbon is gonna help me understand the complexity of how it’s brewed or if it’s whiskey or not.”

“We’ll see, but I can’t wait for you to try it. I promise you’re gonna love it!”

The memories of him, you try to keep them ingrained within your mind, forever. From the way he used to grin after telling you a joke, the way his laughter almost always seemed contagious to a fault, the way his smile lines became more prominent whenever he grinned at you, the way his demeanor carried a sense of security, and love, the feeling of pure joy would fill his voice whenever he talked about his dreams, and aspirations for the future. The future that was painstakingly cut too short. The memories are still so vivid, and painful to recall, but they’re the only ones your left with now.

The air was warmer, and the sun shined brighter, and his voice sounded more prominent back, then. Now your faced with the painstaking truth of forgetting the way he used to call out your name, and it scares you. It feels like a nightmare, the terrifying feeling of being faced with never seeing the person you love the most in the world ever, again.

“You only drink hard liquor? Or are you going hard on me, huh?”

“Depends, I don’t think bartenders are supposed to drink with the customers.”

“We can make exceptions, I am the owner after all.” he says with a grin.

And he had no other words to describe what he felt, but heartbreak.

You’re never going to forget him. You’re always going to love the color of his eyes, and you’re going to search for someone with the same contagious laugh. You’re never going to fully let go of him. You’re going to have those nights when all the regret and pain comes rushing back. You’re going to miss him with all your heart, but you’re going to be okay.

Because that’s what living on means for you, and for him. He’ll always be in your heart, living on through you.

And now they’re only a memory. A fragment of his soul remains with yours. But how could you possibly live with this pain. This heartbreaking truth, of never getting the opportunity of telling them you love them ever again, never being able to feel the warmth of their embrace, the touch of their caress, hearing the ring of they’re voice greet you with such enthusiasm, nor will you ever be able to give them the love they gave you. But you must live on.

Maybe it’s okay to miss them when you’re trying to move on. Maybe it’s okay to cry on days like this and feel lost until dawn. Maybe it’s okay to constantly ask yourself why? Why did it have to end like this when all those times I thought it would end like in the movies, I’ve seen before.

Happy ending? But where’s mine, you continually ask yourself tearful, woefully.

Maybe it’s okay to hurt, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to heal, somedays. Maybe it’s okay to remember, and miss the person that gave you’re life a color. After all, they are the red stitch that was once woven into the fabric of your very soul.

But today, you’ll take one step at a time. Recalling memories, if that helps. Just today, you tell yourself solemnly.

You remember you were just a little less broken back then, and sometimes you wish that you could just glue the shattered pieces back together again, but how do you do that when someone took a piece of your heart with them when then left.

They say that grief is just love with nowhere to go.

And maybe you never knew what that truly meant, until you lost him; but that was then. Now you didn’t need to look back only forward. For something that was lost, because if it was meant to be, it would have been. But that’s just what people say to make themselves feel better.

But today, you’ll just take it easy.

He is many things, but one thing he couldn’t be was yours. For your heart belonged, yearned, and loved another.

“His voice. Please don’t let me forget his voice.” you often told yourself in moments of desperation, like a prayer you mumbled this to yourself on days such as this.

Lips up to a glass of liquid courage, and your heart set ablaze. Even as you downed cup after cup, and the alcohol began to burn at your throat you wondered out loud.

“I never understood why someone would drown their sorrows in alcohol, until now.” she said solemnly.

The only source of light came from the shallow lights bouncing off the corners of the room. The atmosphere was rigid. He stilled his sights upon you, who was seated infront of him. The words that were so heavily engraved in his mind overflow with curiosity and suspense slipped off of his lips, out onto the world.

“It’s okay for you to cry, the sky does it too.” he says almost apologetically, as he points to the nearby window being thrashing against by the falling rain.

Some people cry with tears, others with thoughts.

“I know.” you reply softly, with a hint of sorrow stuck within your throat as the tears begin to pour down your cheeks.

“I know.”

© Somemydayy 2024 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

[localcanadiancreature62]

Fiddlestan au Stan and Fidds argument Post Weirdmaggedon

@mickeytk Here.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Stan is watching the Duchess Approves in the living room as he hears the loud noises of Dipper and Mabel running around from upstairs as they do dumb kid stuff like forcing each other to gross smelling sniff scratch and sniff stickers,he sighs contentedly as he can finally have peaceful quiet moments like this again without having to worry about the portal or Bill hurting his family anymore. He then smiles as he turns up the volume of his favorite show while eating a can of meat. "Ah. This is the life. No Bill,no portal,no apocalypse,just me in my house and my family being left to their own devices. I sure hope this peace sticks forever." Stan says to himself as he enjoys his quiet afternoon,until he heard the rough knocking on the door. He decided to ignore it as he figured it was probably some dumb gnomes trying to get in and steal food again plus he was busy watching the good part where Duchess sues Count Lionel for killing her new husband. But the knocking persisted. He then groans in annoyance as he walked up to the door to answer it as neither the kids nor his brother were around to answer with them being busy having fun elsewhere. To his surprise,Fiddleford Mcgucket was at his door. He tried to not act happy about the southern man finally reaching out after those painful years of watching him lose himself. "What's your business here,Hick?. Tell me now or i'll shut the door on your freakishly long nose." Stan asks as the hillbilly looked at him with his big bright eyes and charming smile while he lightly blushed,the con man almost vomiting from the fact that the southerner STILL makes him feel this way even after how much he hurt him. "Ah just wanted to see Stanferd' so i could show him my new plans for creating a trapping device fer anomalies. And i.. want to talk to you." Fiddleford explains as he stared at the former grifter expectantly. "Ford's not here,Mcgucket. He's chasing some new moth species in the forest. Get lost." Stan says in frustration,not wanting to face his ex despite how his gut tells him that he absolutely needs to and even yearns to. Fidds isn't offended by the man's harshness in the slightest. As based on the things he recollected about the con's behavior through the kids telling him stories about him,he was always a grump who often avoided being "sappy" unless he couldn't take it anymore. "Well fine. I know how bad ya feel about our.. separation,darlin'. Stanferd' has been telling me about your guilt and how bad you took the heartbreak lately ever since he found out about our relationship. If ya really want me to leave again,i understand. Yer probably not ready to talk yet anyway-." Fiddleford remarks as he then tries to walk away,only for the swindler to grab him by the wrist. "Damnit Ford. I can't believe he told you even when i explicitly told him to NOT tell you anything about my pathetic moping over the break up. And uhhh,you can stay. I.. want to talk too." Stan replied as he opened the door a bit wider to let the hillbilly in as Fiddleford enters the building while the con guided him to the kitchen where they can discuss their relationship more comfortably. Stan sat in his chair while Fiddleford sat at the chair in front of him. "So what do you have to say for yourself?. After making me go through that dumb memory gun 'experiment',which was just an excuse to rope me into your problems." Stan says bitterly,leaving out the part where he heavily grieved the southern man after he lost his sanity in the final moments of the memory tapes before the car crash occurred. "Ah never meant to force you into anything back then. You were completely willing to help at first despite you being annoyed at having to be the camera man." Fiddleford explains as he watched the man shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well what about the part where you left me after that car crash and made ME fix the portal while i tried to avoid your cult mess?." Stan remarks as he balled his fists in anger while his hands are placed on the table,wanting to retaliate at the hillbilly for making him hurt for so long yet he doesn't as part of him still deeply cares about the nerd. "I- Ah wasn't in my right mind back then and i figured that the entire world was against me with my slipping sanity as well as paranoia. I had to leave,Stanley or else i wouldn't have held onto the sliver of peace i kept before i fully lost mah mind." Fiddleford says as he looked at the man in guilt,but then Stan banged his fist on the table as he couldn't take it anymore. He needed the hillbilly to know how bad he hurt him.

"YOUR peace?. What about me?,huh?. With the little sanity you had during that time,didn't you once think about how much your little memory gun fiasco affected ME?!. YOUR PARTNER?!. Don't you get it,Fiddlesticks?. You HURT me. You left me to suffer from your dwindling mental state and THEN you abandoned me last minute when your mind couldn't take it anymore,leaving ME to cover up all evidence of YOUR insane cult from the house. I spent those days of memory gun testing watching my beloved southern nerd,the person most important to me at the time,destroy himself with a damn memory erasing ray while you never even called or talked to me about what you were going through before you got into that cult." Stan exclaims as he started crying angry tears as Fiddleford gasps in disbelief at his reaction. "Stanley,hun. Ah had no choice!. Ah had no choice but to leave or else you would've been roped in deeper into my problems. I couldn't reach out because i felt like clawing mah skull with every memory erasure!. Do ya know how hard it was to keep it together while knowin' full well that the gun was ruining me?!." Fiddleford says in slight annoyance over the con not considering how he felt at the time. "No no YOU don't understand. Do you know how hard it was for ME,to see your unhinged bastard self everyday while knowing full well that i couldn't talk to you about what happend with your empty noggin?!. I spent half of my life thinking that it was my fault,Fiddleford. I kept thinking that i was the reason why you went back to using that damned gun,i hated myself for never talking about our issues which lead to you using the memory gun with our every argument. Something i didn't know was actually ruining your brilliant mind with every use." Stan explains as he kept crying,more out of sadness and hurt this time instead of rage. "I did everything for you. I protected you from monsters,i made dinner for you even when i was used to living off of granola bars and couldn't cook for shit,i comforted you every time you had nightmares about Ford coming back to hurt you for quitting the project. Yet you still subjected me to that memory gun shit,and you left me despite everything we've been through together. Heh. Every time i get attached to someone,they always leave me in the end. Whether it's Ford,my old heist buddies Jorge and Rico,or you." Stan remarks bitterly as tears fell on his chest while he kept bawling from the horrible heartbreak as Fiddleford took a guilty glance at him,as he never knew how bad his dwindling sanity affected the man until now. "I.. Stanley. I'm so sorry. I- I had no idea that what i did hurt you that much. I never meant to hurt you,i just made a lot of regrettable decisions and my past arguments with you were just the catalyst. It was never your fault,the blame is all on me. I didn't mean to make you suffer with my problems,i sincerely apologize and i feel terrible for doing all of that to you without realizing how much it hurt ya." Fiddleford explains as he expresses genuine regret for his actions,but the con turns his back on him and refuses to accept his apology. "Sorry won't reverse the unimaginable amount of heartbreak you gave me." Stan says in slight annoyance,as he has accepted the man's apology but he's still angry at him for never explaining himself until 30 years have passed.

"Will this change yer mind?." Fiddleford replied as he then kissed the con straight on the mouth as he placed a light peck on his grifter's lips,the man blushing as he pulled away while leaving the man dumbfounded as Stan laughed from being tickled by the hillbilly's trimmed beard. "Ahahahaha! Fidds,your beard made my mouth feel funny." Stan remarks as he smiled at the hillbilly slyly looked at him. "But ah thought you were still mad at me?~." Fiddleford says as he blushes while staring at the con with pure love in his eyes. "I'm not anymore. Now that you gave me that long overdue apology and that great kiss~." Stan replied as he then kisses the southern nerd again,giving him a longgg slobbery smooch as the saliva connecting their lips breaks soon after he pulls away. "Ah missed yer kisses,and that adorable laugh." Fiddleford says as he smiled at the con,with Stan smiling back as he finally got his nerd back. All he wanted was to hear the man apologize,and get his hillbilly back instead of constantly seeing that empty mindless and insane husk that he became everyday,and he got both in one fateful afternoon. "I missed ya too,Fiddlesticks. I'm so glad to have you back. And we have plenty of time to make up for lost time before the kids come over to pester us about our relationship." Stan remarks as he then looked at the nerd with adoring eyes. "I'd like that. But first,let me hold you again like i always did. C'mere." Fiddleford replied as he gestures for the con to come over,which he obliges as he let himself get tightly embraced by the taller elder as he started crying tears of joy as he hasn't had felt the warm touch of his nerd in years (someone help this touch starved man). Fiddleford then winces in guilt as he thought he messed up again. "Hey,what's wrong?. Why are ya cryin' again?." Fiddleford asks as he kept gently holding his grifter in his arms. "N-Nothing. It's just- I haven't felt your warm embrace in such a long time. I'm so happy to feel it again." Stan replied as he smiled at his nerd while Fiddleford sighs in relief. "And am' glad to hold ya again. C'mere,darlin'." Fiddleford says as he then grabbed the man by the shirt collar as he lightly made out with him,with both of them blushing deeply as Fidds gently caressed his con man's face. Stan smiled through the kiss as he realized that he'll finally get to spend the rest of his life with the southern nerd he adores as he makes up for the time that the memory gun robbed from him.

[tiwsaltyst]

kinda nervous to post this but lol! i was meant to write a jeanmarco fic with this snippet in it but like idk now.. writers block caught up to me 💔

posting this here because i realised this could also work from when jean found marco in trost

That raw ache in Jean’s chest that’s on the verge of bursting felt like it was killing him. He wants to close his eyes and disappear from the present, yet he can’t look away. He’s afraid of what will become of the motionless body before him if he looks away. How will he cope when that body is six feet under? When he’s completely out of sight? When there’s nothing he can do about the earth taking back the soul that hid in that precious vessel? Oh, how he’d envy the worms that could take his flesh—take a part of him. How he’d envy the realm of death for obtaining his precious soul.

[theesirenteller]

Grocery Store Paternity

↫↫↫ 𝕸𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝕲𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖔 𝖝 𝕺𝖈! 𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊 ↬↬↬

"D'elia? ¿Cómo estás?  Ha pasado mucho tiempo."

Who would've thought that going to pick up a bag of frozen plantains would have the average person end up running into the devil? Most wouldn't think so. But for D'elia Wren, she should've known this day would come. Especially being in Santo Padre. Miguel Galindo was the devil to many. and D'elia was no different. Even since she was fifteen, he terrorized her body and mind. His love for the gringa was the only thing that saved her. Funny how now that didn't feel like such a blessing. 

D'elia stared at him wide-eyed with a clenched jaw. Her throat dry as she bit at the side of her bottom lip. Her hands shook against the cool rod of the cart's handlebar. She could feel the warm and wet sensation of tears start to form in the corner of her eyes. 

"Mom, can I have these, please! It's watermelon and jalapeno flavored!" The familiar squeaky voice felt the comfort of an angel. Which caused D'elia to snap out of her frozen state and turn her attention to the child at her side.

"Uhm, yes of course." D'elia agreed with a forced smile. She nearly snatched the candy bag out of her daughter's hands due to how fast she grabbed it before tossing it into the cart.

Miguel raised an eyebrow as he looked at the child. Watching the two in both curiosity and amusement. When the girl turned to face him and offered the man a polite smile; he felt his world stop and his blood run cold. She had the same smile and eyes as his mother.  She had her mother's vibrant, golden-umber brown skin, full lips, and nose. Everything else screamed Galindo to Miguel. An uncanny resemblance that couldn't be ignored. 

"Hola! I'm-"

"Excuse us." The poor girl was cut off by her mother before she had the time to be polite. D'elia lifted the child up with little to no distress and rolled her cart with her other hand. "Mommy, I'm not a baby!", the child pouted and squirmed. Her whining could be heard through the aisles as well as her mother's hushing.

"Get Davante to pull up her records over the last eight to ten years. Have Chino and Mateo follow her." Miguel ordered Nestor before continuing on with his shopping. 

D'elia and the nameless child haven't left his mind since that day. Days turned into three weeks and three weeks turned into three months before Miguel decided to take action and make a trip to confront D'elia. He hadn't informed Emily of anything and he doubted she would care about his sudden coldness and distance from her. Cristobal was all that he focused on when inside the Galindo home. The thought of his son having an older sister and him having a second child, a daughter. One that wasn't from his wife was…complicated. Both joyous and frightening. He could've turned a blind eye. And a part of him wanted to. Cristobal had been in enough danger and Miguel didn't want to put another child through that. But, then again the girl was his child and D'elia. Well, she was damaged goods and one of four of his deepest regrets. The things he'd done to her in his early twenties whilst she was only a minor…made his stomach turn. But in a distorted way…he cared for her. The way a pet owner cared for its dog. Now, it was too late to turn a blind eye. Miguel was now in San Francisco, standing in front of a brownstone building with Nestor and Davante by his sides.  

The tumblers of the locks clicked open and instead of a look of surprise, D'elia stood there with an indifferent look across her face. "Three men for one woman? Gee, I really must be a lot to handle." she greeted with dry humor before stepping aside.

Miguel sent her a subtle smile before ordering Nestor and Devante to wait in the car. "You're hard to tame but not hard to handle." He replied. The two story apartment was more spacious than he imagined. Downstairs, the living room where he guided into was subtly minimalistic. Painted a deep shade of purple with various accents of burnt orange lingering around. Like the couch that he sat on.

"What do you know? What do you want, Miguel?" D'elia immediately questioned as soon as she was seated. 

"Do you welcome all your guests this way?" Miguel chastised. 

"You ain't no damn guest." She shot back.

A rasped chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head "Fair enough." he then smoothed out his black suit jacket, "I know Alejandra is my daughter. I know she's eight years old and was born in Iowa. Mainly, one of those witness protection programs. I know you ratted out that whorehouse on the outskirts of Santo Padre to get you and her out of their…and away from me." his thumbs brushed over the gold ring on his fingers.

"She might be your daughter by blood but she's not your kid." D'elia replied stubbornly. "And your deep dive turned out to be right. That whore house and bitch Maria were the reasons kids like me were offered up to assholes like you. Just because you brought a little designer and some expensive jewelry around me doesn't mean you weren't as sick as the rest of those bastards who came around." her tone seething with venom and disgust.

"Fifteen was hardly a kid and don't you forget anyone one of those girls would've been happy to take your spot." Miguel argued.

"And I wish it had been one of them." D'elia hissed.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two of them. The pair now glaring at one another with mixed emotions.  Miguel's left eye slightly twitched and his expression sat cold until he smiled. 

"Look, I don't want any trouble D'elia. I simply want what every man wants…his family together. You don't have to be in Santo Padre but Alejandra will know I'm her father and she'll know her brother and all of the Galindo family." The smile across his lips never matched the dark expression within his eyes.

 He stood up from his seat and stalked his way towards her which caused D'elia to tense up. "And I'd hate for her to be brought into the family without you. A girl needs her mother and well..step-mothers can be a hard adjustment at her age." His large palm patted against D'elia's shoulder as he placed a kiss on her cheek, "You look beautiful by the way."  his warm breath hit the shell of her earlobe.

D'elia tightly gripped at the sides of her loveseat as her blood ran cold. She fought back tears of anger and instead nodded her head. "Okay." If he wanted to play…then they could play.

"Great," His smile now dazzling and bright, "I'll be in touch so make sure to answer your phone." with that Miguel made his way to the foyer before letting himself out. The thought of getting rid of Emily and starting his family over was fresh in his mind.

[marked-questions]

Dying Flowers in a Cemetery.

Come closer. Let me rest my head as the blade scratches the good parts of me. My chest, that burning sensation, it doesn't feel so good but I'd do it all over again just to be with you once more. Just to see that flashy smile of yours.

I feel light headed, but the sight of you keeps my head on straight, if it ever was. Don't look so gloomy, kid, pain won't last forever, I promise. That bubbling anger you have, let that keep your sobriety, not intoxicate you.

Let this be your last lesson, for you'll have to be the sensei now.. I'm so proud of you, kid.