#angst mwahaha

[tvb0y]

“ You Dont read anymore” Stfu i Bing read 6 different fanfics in one week and yet your over here still trying to get through Harry Potter.

You don’t know how much trauma angst ROTTMNT fanfics have given me 💀

[fwoggiekeromoto]

Even if the world ends, I’ll always love you.

[mandiemegatron]

ʟᴏꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀ

ᴱᵘˢᵗᵃˢˢ ᴷⁱᵈ ˣ ᶜᶦˢ!ᶠᵉᵐ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ: ꜱᴀᴅ. ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐀 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥!! 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 🤭🤭💖💖💖💖 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 - 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐋𝐌𝐅𝐀𝐎𝐎 😭😭😭😂😂😂 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒! 𝐀 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞!!

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐨, 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧! 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞! 🤭💖

Header by ; @buggyandthebartoclub ♡

One year, three months and fourteen days.

Shaking, furious hands pushed clothing and important items into a duffle bag, heart broken tears streaming down your face as you bit back sobs of anger.

One year, three months and fourteen days.

You could feel Killers eyes staring into your barely contained, rage filled form, smartly staying silent as he watched you pack. After a few moments though, he gently sighed out,

“... I won't make excuses for him.”

You almost snarled at him as you whipped around, the expression on your face causing the long haired man to take a step back in caution. He held his hands up as a white flag, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your wrath.

“Then don't.”

One year, three months and fourteen days.

You tried to block out everything as you walked past Killer, slinging the large bag over your shoulder easily. You broke into silent, angry tears again as you walked past the Captains door, unable to unhear the sounds of pleasure that rang out from inside.

Your heart shattered just a little more as another woman's voice called out his name, causing you to kick his door in a rush of rage before you stomped upstairs and out onto the deck of the Victoria.

Walking past a confused Wire and Heat, the two men sharing a joint and a look with each other as they watched you hop off the ship and onto dry land, surprised you wouldn't even look back when they called your name.

One year, three months and fourteen days.

The first tavern you came across, you walked in with your head down and sat at the bar. You grabbed a couple beris from your pocket and sighed a thanks as the bartender slid you a beer, an almost pitied look on his face.

“You alright, girlie?”

You frowned and sighed for a moment before giving him a slow nod, taking a long glup from the glass before asking,

“You know if any place near here has any rooms for overnight stays? I'm lookin’ to stay on dry land for a while.”

He hummed to himself before calling out a name. A soft, older woman came around from the back, a confused look on her face as the man repeated your question to her in another language. She then nodded and spoke softly to him, throwing you a gentle look before motioning for you to follow her.

“She'll getcha set up. You'll be alright here.”

You gave the man a grateful nod, chugging back the rest of your beer before tossing a few extra beri on the counter for him, and enough for a few nights stay in the room.

“I'm truly thankful.”

You slid off the stool and went to follow the woman, only stopping for a moment to throw over your shoulder,

“If anyone asks, you never saw me.”

The man laughed and replied, “Saw who?” before going back to wiping down the counter. You nodded to yourself with a small smile before following the woman up a set of stairs hidden behind a barely noticeable wooden door.

You must have looked confused because a soft voice came from the woman as she explained,

“You not the first. You not the last.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as tears stung your eyes. You didn't like how she read you a little too well.

Opening the last door on the left, she led you into a cozy but warm room, fitted with a single bed, a fireplace, a table and chair and a small bathtub in the far corner.

“You be safe here.”

She sat you down on the bed, letting your bag drop to the floor with a dull thud. Lifting your face in her aged palms, she gently moved your face from left to right before giving a soft nod. Reaching into one of her apron pockets, she placed a small vial into your hand with a gentle smile.

“Put in bath. You sleep.”

You sniffled and nodded as you replied softly,

“Thank you so much.”

She nodded again and patted your head with a chuckle before moving away from you, humming to herself and she shut the door behind her. The second the door shut, you broke down, your heart shattering into tiny pieces in your chest.

You lifted the pillow to your face and screamed into it, sobbing and wailing into the fabric, thankful for the muffled music and chatter going on downstairs. You hoped no one could hear how loud your heart was breaking.

One year, three months and fourteen days.

That was how long you were worth something to Eustass Kid.

It felt like hours had passed, spent sobbing into the warm pillow until your eyes burned and your throat was sore. The chatter had gotten louder but at this point, you didn't care. You were sure no sleep would come to you tonight.

“Y/N!”

You frowned as the muffled sound of your name met your ears, Eustass’ furious voice shattering through the night like a gun brought to a knife fight. You curled into yourself, pressing your form into the corner of the bed as your name rattled off the small window.

“Damn it, Y/N! Answer me!”

You pressed your palms to your ears with eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the urge to call for him; for him to collect you into his arms, for him to apologize and tell you that you're the only one he needed-

Only silence.

You sobbed tearlessly, ignoring the way your heart lurched into your throat, the feeling of nausea washing over you like a rogue wave.

You hated this.

You hated him.

You waited for what, again, felt like hours. Your name never hit your ears again after that, even as the sun rose above the buildings and trees and filled your room with a gentle warmth. You didn't dare move from your spot, almost frozen in despair, even as night fell once again.

For three days, you only moved to use the washroom across the hall, almost sprinting back into your room, worried someone would spot you. Anxiety crept over you like a sticky blanket, stinking to your skin and making you feel like you were stuck in mud. You slowly munched on whatever food you'd grabbed from the Victoria on your way out, your meager meal lasting you longer than you thought.

“I hope this works,” you moan to yourself as you filled the bath, a lazy hand creating ripples over the top of the water. Your other hand tipped the small vial into the bath, the scent of rosemary, lavender and peaches filling your senses. You sighed softly, a small smile washing over your face for the first time in ages.

You quickly stripped and settled in, throwing a quick glance at the door to make sure the chair was stuck under the knob. No one was getting in without you knowing.

Taking a deep breath, you sunk under the steaming water and stayed under, letting the fragrant water cover you entirely. Your mind was blank, empty as you counted in your head until your lungs began to burn.

You resurfaced with a gasp, a shaky hand pushing back soaked hair from your face and you groaned softly to yourself as a warmth flooded over your insides. You rested in the tub until the water got cold, only removing your depressed and exhausted form from the tub once night fell once more.

Dressed in simple pajamas, you sat in front of the fireplace with your blanket wrapped around you. A half eaten apple sat beside you with a glass of water, the last of your food from the ship filling you with sadness more than satiating your hunger.

You huffed to yourself and wrapped your arms around your legs, your chin resting on your knees as you watched the fire crackle and pop. Strangely, your mind was empty, no raging thoughts running rampant or suffocating you into tears. While the change was welcome, you were almost terrified of falling asleep only to wake up back on the ship.

Slowly, you removed your covered body from the floor to glance out the window towards the port from the side, the blanket covering your head to obscure most of your face just in case anyone from the ship was looking for you.

Your heart dropped through the floor when you saw the empty port, the Victoria Punk gone from sight.

You let the blanket fell from your grasp as bitter tears filled your eyes, your mouth falling open in a silent wail as you fell to the ground, your cold palms pressing into your face as you sobbed. The sound of patrons partying downstairs overtook the sound of your heart shattering.

Your exhausted body fell to the side, your eyes rolling back as the shock took over, knocking you out cold. Your head bounced off the wooden floor as you hit it, your form sprawled out almost carelessly.

It was four days before you woke up again.

Bright lights pierced through your eyelids to the point it pulled you from the darkness. You breathed out a low groan, a tired hand moving up to rub at your face as your eyes slowly blinked open. Your gaze met metal, then hospital equipment. It moved over the slate metal room with confusion, taking in the room slowly.

You slowly sat up with a grunt, wincing as you gently grasped the left side of your head with a slightly shaky hand. Your fingertips met soft bandages and you couldn't stop the confused “Huh?” that escaped your lips.

“I wouldn't move too much.”

You jumped at the low voice, turning your head too quickly and giving yourself whiplash. You groaned again and held your head in both hands, breathing through your nose softly to fight back the nausea that rose in the back of your throat.

“Tsk,”

Two soft but firm hands gripped your shoulders and gently began to push you back down into the bed. You pulled your hands away and your brows furrowed as your eyes met two bright amber eyes, soft, sun-kissed skin and a spotted hat.

“Are you deaf? I just said-”

“Who are you?”

The man paused at your question, taking your face in before resuming in moving you to lay back down. You allowed him to move you, your eyes still confused and wary even as he moved back a little.

“I'm … a doctor.”

When you rose a suspicious eyebrow, he stood a little straighter with a thin-lipped frown, almost glaring down at you as he continued,

“I saved your life. The least you could do is say ‘thank you’.”

You sighed through your nose and gave him a slight nod, barely getting out,

“Thank you.”

He huffed and crossed his arms, running a tattooed hand over his scruff before he asked,

“Are you a pirate? Your belongings tell me you belong to a crew, but I'd like to make sure.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you looked away, glaring up at the metal ceiling as you bit out,

“I thought I was, once.”

The tattooed man shifted on his feet, his gaze never leaving you as he questioned,

“What's that supposed to mean?”

You scoffed with a bitter laugh before you retorted with a snark,

“Let's just say Eustass Kid is a fucking twat.”

The man paused again before a wide grin cracked his face, the expression almost unfitting on his face as he suddenly began to laugh. You whipped your head to the side to stare at him, your teary eyes wide and confused as you barked out,

“What's so goddamn funny?!”

The man cackled to himself, a hand covering his face as he chuckled into his palm. It took a moment, but once he composed himself, he snarked back in a mocking tone,

“I could have told you that.”

You flinched at his words, blinking back angry tears as you glared back up at the ceiling. The man then sighed heavily, moving closer to the bed before leaning over you so you were face to face.

“Seems to me that I have a perfect way for you to repay your debt.”

An almost cocky, thrilled look washed over the man's face as he leaned back with a comment of,

“My name is Trafalgar Law, and you are on my ship.”

Your blood turned to ice.

You'd heard Eustass talk shit about this guy many times, how he was psycho and would rip up his opponents in a flash and without remorse.

The Surgeon of Death.

You steeled your expression and bit back in a returning mocking tone,

“I'm not scared of you, Captain.”

Law grinned devilishly down at you as he nearly purred out,

“Oh darling, you should be.”

“Are you sure-”

“Stop fucking asking me that goddamn question, Kil.”

Killer bristled at Kid's tone, glaring at his captain from behind his mask. Large arms crossed over an even larger chest, an air of worry and anger danced around the First Mate, unable to stop thinking about if you were safe or not.

“... She made her fucking choice.”

Killer frowned, sighing to himself as he shook his head slightly.

“I think you made it for her.”

The blonde man knew he hit a nerve when his best friend didn't respond. Killer turned his head to glance at Kid and he sighed again when the red head didn't move.

Eustass Kid simply glared forward, his gaze dark and heart heavy as he locked it back up, feeling like a goddamn fool for thinking you'd stick around. Kid knew he made some stupid mistakes but this one cost him dearly.

It was a long while before Eustass spoke again, the only words the man could mutter out fell on deaf ears on the silent and empty deck.

“... I think I fucked up, Y/N.”

Eustass leaned back in his chair with a deep-set frown, flesh and metal arm crossed over each other as he stared out at the glassy sea.

It was a few days before he spoke again, demanding everyone on board forget your name. Anything you left behind was thrown overboard, sinking to the bottom of the sea without a second thought.

After that, it was like you had never lived on the Victoria in the first place.

Though, some nights, if anyone crept into Kid's room quietly enough, they'd find him tossing and turning, one of your shirts tightly gripped in his large hand. It stopped smelling like you ages ago, but Kid couldn't find it in him to part with it.

There was more than one war going on within Eustass Kid's life, though this one, he'd have to fight on his own.

And everytime he woke up to an empty bed, he knew…

He had lost.

[ghost-bxrd]

So I posted this on my blog, but I really wanted to share it directly with you. This AU has me in a chokehold, and I literally woke up in the middle of night dreaming about this, so imagine:

Based on @lynzine‘s prompt: Dick hears Red Hood make chirps or hoots, and then freaks out thinking Red Hood is a member of the Court and is targeting Tim.

So, what if, instead of Dick offering himself up as a sacrifice, Dick gets angry.

Dick hunts down the Red Hood, stalking him all over Gotham. When Dick sees him, he immediately attacks with the intent to kill. (The court wants his owlet. He already lost one, he can’t loose this one, he will not fail—). Jason doesn’t want to fight Dick, but Dick is vicious.

And the fight just confirms Dick’s assumption that Jason is a part of the Court. Because not only does Jason probably have some training from Dick himself — back when he was Robin — but now he has even more assassin training via the League. Dick sees this, and he’s so so convinced this is a member of the court—

But then part of the helmet cracks and falls off. Part of Jason’s face (his owlet’s face) is visible.

Dick freezes.

Jason shoots.

(It’s not fatal, but it’s a close thing.)

Bruce rescues Dick, but Jason is long gone by then. Between the shock and the injuries, everything is kinda hazy for him. But Dick knows what he saw, and he realizes… he just tried to kill his owlet. His owlet is alive again, somehow, and Dick almost killed him again.

Dick becomes depressed and devastated, which results in him basically ignoring everyone — including Tim. He stops making nests and refuses to cuddle. He becomes almost catatonic.

But that’s okay. Tim’s worried for Dick. Tim’s used to being ignored.

Danggggg, okay, ooookay, I see you went for even more angst! Which I can totally respect, but still, how dare you 😭 alright, okidoki, let’s get to angsting my friend!

So we know that Jason’s beef probably wouldn’t be with Dick if he were to resurrect like in canon, mostly because, well, Joker made it a hot day after killing Jason before Dick tracked him down and distributed him all over Gotham like confetti.

As such it would stand to reason that Dick attacking Hood wasn’t part of the plan. The altercation happened by chance and, ok, fair, Jason was kind of targeting Tim so mayyybe he should have counted on that. What he DIDN’T count on was his mask coming off and Dick just—- freezing. And there’s this split second of absolute horror in both their eyes— for Dick because he thinks the Court took his owlet’s dead body without him noticing, and for Jason because he already pulled the trigger but dick isn’t moving out of the way—

Jason flees, only staying long enough to press a trembling hand to Dick’s pulse point and ascertain that Dick is alive— that he didn’t kill his brother, before fleeing and leaving Bruce and Tim to pick up the pieces.

Dick is adrift for a long while and neither Bruce or Tim can figure out what’s wrong because Dick refuses to tell them what happened, that Jason is alive. Because now that Dick knows— he’s terrified. And guilt ridden.

Somehow, he missed the Court taking Jason’s body. And now he thinks his owlet had been subjected to the same horrors that Dick was, turned into the same monster Dick spent years believing himself to be. And Dick— Dick is a talon. Dick will always BE a talon. He should have realized that Hood is Jason. Should have realized that’s his owlet under that helmet, instead he attacked him, aimed to kill him, and Dick knows how deep betrayal can run when you’re running mostly on instinct and half remembered emotions. Dick had Jason, Jason saved him when he all Dick knew was how to kill, and when Jason came back to him after Dick thought him lost forever—- Dick attempted to kill him.

Jason is… confused. And reluctantly worried. Batman and Robin are rarely seen on the streets after the altercation and Nightwing is gone altogether. He knows he didn’t kill Dick. He made triple sure of it. Even went as far as to sneak onto manor grounds and hang out in a tree until he’d caught a glimpse of the talon.

I think Jason wouldn’t be able to curb is growing concern for long, maybe a couple weeks, before he goes back and breaks into the manor while Batman and Robin are out on the streets hunting rumors of the Red Hood’s whereabouts

(Jason is horrified when he finds Dick sprawled listlessly in a heap of blankets that certainly looks like someone tried to arrange it into a nest, but failed miserably.)

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Schmol Solomon headcanon... but it's longer than I thought it'd be, whoops...

Warnings: mentions of death and cemeteries?, nothing wildly angsty though :)

Solomon, who visits cemeteries all over the human realm just to feel closer to his humanity. He'll take his time to walk through all the rows of headstones, reading each one and imagining how those buried lived their short mortal lives; if they had regrets, if they loved to the fullest, if they had accomplishments, or if they righted the wrongs they may have caused in others' lives before their own time was up.

On occasion, he'll look into old archives and find some records of the names in the cemeteries to learn more about the people he had been protecting without ever knowing of their existence.

This past time of his slowly turned into an odd, but niche hobby. The really old tombstones - the ones that have clearly been neglected as time moves on to the point that no one recognizes the name engraved or recalls the life lived - Solomon washes them, ridding them of the moss and discoloration built up over many years. The faded stones are polished to perfection, now looking as if they were brand new. Anyone visiting the graveyard while he's there cleaning will see him seemingly talking to himself, but really he's keeping the soul of the grave he's cleaning company - whether he's able to get in contact with them or not.

It's his way of intimately contributing to humanity without ever getting attached to the living. It's his way of understanding the intricacies of mortal nature, of truly understanding through the deaths of others what life truly means for a human. And it makes him feel closer to the realm he vows to protect.

[ike-mcswains-mortician]

hermie unworthy 🤝 henry oak

having falsely-manufactured memories of your youth that ultimately ring hollow, because the truth is that your father robbed you of what your upbringing should have been and you woke up without a childhood at all. and you were left to put together the pieces.

[gregorybacon]

Oh, the humanity. Please, pity me.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 15: Fear

“LIAR!!”

“I would…never lie about someone’s death…”

[itty-bitty-demon]

Oh boy.

She saw someone lurking outside the hotel, and now she's hiding.

@th3-radi0-d3mon

[auntiezelda]

Finally in control over her own body once more, Zelda wanted to tear Faustus apart for what he had done to her, for what he was attempting to do to her family. Yet she couldn't follow that instinct; she had to be smarter than him, and Satan knew she was certainly that. The only instinct she could follow after leaving her home was to go to the one witch she knew she could trust above all others, @alyafae. Maerose had always been a most loyal friend.

Knocking surely upon her door, Zelda need not wait long before the witch appeared. She attempted to give a smile but couldn't find it in herself to force one; she'd have to do plenty of that soon enough. "I'm sorry to show up unannounced and so late, but I have a favor to ask." She kept her hands clasped in front of her, missing her typical jewelry, missing her rings she could twist round when a cigarette was nowhere to be found; damn him and his spell.

[chcoticmuses]

@dcydrecmings

''when were you going to tell me?''

[allthatmay]

Can we get a little sneak peak of ch 4? Please 🥺🥺🥺

Oooh, I so wish I could give you a proper sneak peek, but I feel like I've already given too much of the game away! If you haven't seen them, there's a couple of snippets here and here. However, I will give you the teeniest, tiniest, angstiest preview I can muster!

Shanks has long since made a place for himself inside of Ace—a place that grows bigger and bigger the more they are together, and the more they are apart. It aches like any other wound, and like any other wound can be healed with time. But Ace has spent many hours digging his fingers in, twisting them round and round just to be certain that he can keep welcoming Shanks in, time and time again.

[leiawritesstories]

dial drunk

inspired by "dial drunk" by noah kahan. if you know the song, you know how much angst is about to happen. @backtobl4ck thank you for encouraging me ;)

Word count: ~1k

A/N: PAINNNNNNN. Frederick is very very proud of himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shifting flashes of red and blue police lights in his rearview mirror yanked Rowan from his half-unconscious stupor back into reality. The siren caught up with him seconds later, piercing through the fog of intoxication clouding his senses. Fuck, how much had he drunk? How many empty bottles littered the floor of his kitchen? 

Hadn’t he sworn, months ago, to lock the alcohol away? Hadn’t he promised someone he loved more than life itself that he would stop drinking to forget?

Even though he had, that someone had broken him so badly he’d gone for the liquor cabinet, grabbed bottles at random, and poured the alcohol down his throat until the burn faded into numbness and the agony of the evening faded into the liquor-induced fog. Then he’d climbed into his pickup and left–he had to get the fuck away, clear his head. Part of him wouldn’t care if he drunk-drove himself off the side of the road, if he crashed and burned and died a nameless drunk. 

Guided by the police cruiser behind him, Rowan pulled off to the side of the road and stopped, keeping his hands on the wheel. A police officer got out of the cruiser and walked up to his door.

“Open the door, son.” The officer’s deep, calm voice was familiar, even through the haze of alcohol and anguish blurring his mind. 

Blearily, Rowan threw his pickup into park, set the parking brake, unlocked his door, and opened it. “Have my li-licensh’ here, sir,” he slurred. 

“Rowa, I don’t need your license.” Ah fuck, just what he needed–Rhoe Galathynius finding his daughter’s boyfriend–ex-boyfriend now–drunk driving down Main to get the hell out of town after a breakup that shattered both of them into a thousand tiny shards. 

“Sh-sir?” Rowan was confused. 

“You’re drunk, Rowan.” Rhoe’s voice remained infinitely patient. “I have to take you in for the night, son.” 

Son. The endearment stabbed a barbed spear straight through the raw ruins of Rowan’s heart. Groggily, he shut off his engine, stepped out of the truck, and would have fallen on his face if Rhoe hadn’t caught him. 

“Here.” Rhoe steadied him. “Come on, son. It’s just for the night; you’ll be able to go home once you’ve sobered up.” Holding open the back door of the cruiser, he nudged Rowan inside. “You get one emergency call.” 

“Aelin!” Rowan blurted.

“What?” 

“Aelin,” he repeated, hoarsely. “My call.” 

Unidentifiable emotions flashed across Rhoe’s fatherly face. “Okay.” He handed Rowan his phone. “Go ahead.” 

Rowan tapped Aelin’s icon, heard her ringtone start to sound, and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Th-this is Aelin.” Her voice–raw, rough, and creaky the way it was after she’d been sobbing–crackled through the phone. 

“Fireheart?” Rowan choked out. 

Click. Beep. 

She hung up. 

Blindly, Rowan grabbed for his phone, but Rhoe held it out of his drunken reach. “I’m sorry, son.” 

“Please,” Rowan begged, tears spilling out of his eyes. “Le’mme try again, sir, fuck, I swear I’ll cooperate.” His voice broke. “She–I–I need–she’ll call back, I swear.” 

Grief and empathy shone in Rhoe’s kind eyes. “I can’t. I’m sorry, son.” 

“Fuck!” Rowan buried his head in his hands. “Please!”

Rhoe’s strong hand rested on the younger man’s shoulder. “Why do you want to do this to yourself?” he asked, gently. Rowan could hear the muted pain in the older man’s words, the deep love Rhoe had for his daughter and for the man she loved, and he knew how much it must tear the man up to arrest his daughter’s boyfriend for drunk driving and then end up going home to a broken, emotionally bleeding version of his daughter. 

“S’done,” Rowan slurred, his vision blurring so badly he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep until the pounding in his head went away. 

Rhoe let out a soft sigh. “Stay here, son.” He left the back door open, stepped aside, and spoke to his patrol partner in a low voice for a few minutes. When he returned, he helped Rowan out of the cruiser instead of closing the door and heading off to the jail like Rowan thought he’d do. “I’m going to need your keys, son.” 

Rowan blinked. “Huh?” 

“Your keys.” Rhoe held out his hand, huffing out a short breath at Rowan’s complete confusion. “I’m going to drive you home in your truck, son, but I’ll need your keys to drive.” 

“Oh.” Fumbling a little, Rowan handed over his keys. Rhoe unlocked the pickup, helped Rowan up into the passenger side, buckled his seatbelt, closed the door, and went around to the driver’s side. A moment later, they were back on the road, headed towards Rowan’s house. “Sir?” 

“Hmm?” Rhoe glanced towards him, his face illuminated in the amber wash of the traffic lights. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Rowan closed his eyes and sank back into the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry.” 

Rhoe was quiet for a long few moments. “Lock the cabinet back up, son,” he finally said. “It won’t do anything good for you.” He reached Rowan’s house, pulled into his driveway, parked, helped Rowan out of his truck, and walked him into his house. “Son.” 

“Yeah?” 

Rhoe pressed Rowan into a brief, tight hug. “Don’t beat yourself up too badly.” He closed the front door, leaving Rowan alone in his house once again. 

Rowan made it into the kitchen, shuffling slowly with his hand on the wall to guide him and keep himself upright, and swore at the sight of the bottles on the counter and the floor. So many. Maybe that was partially because of his hazy vision, but still–so many. 

He left the kitchen. He’d deal with that mess…later. Right now, he needed sleep. 

He only made it as far as the living room couch before his legs buckled and he half-collapsed onto the couch, barely remembering to kick off his shoes before he flopped down on his side, closed his eyes, and tumbled into the sweet black oblivion of drunken sleep. 

The last thing he saw before deep sleep claimed him was Aelin’s heartbreakingly beautiful face, her stunning eyes lined with tears, her soft, broken plea for him to  “just leave” spilling from her lips. 

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[imaginespazzi]

give us some of your favorite pazzi headcanons pretty pretty please with an extra cherry on top (i miss them)

Omg anon you're so cute (I miss them too) 🥹

Alright let's get delusional:

Their realizations were extremely different. Paige's was dramatic because "holy fuck i'm in love with my best friend oh shit shit shit" and it took her moment to process but once she did, she was fully set on making something happen. Azzi's was a lot more gradual and more "oh i'm in love with her, that makes sense," but also very much "now let me ignore it forever because i don't like change" with a whole lot of overthinking until she realizes there was no point in fighting it.

Their first proper date was a mess. Paige was trying to be romantic really by booking out a proper restaurant. They realized pretty quickly that sitting opposite each other under the blinding lights of a posh bistro, dressed in itchy fancy clothes was very much not their thing. But they were both a little too hesitant to say anything to each other, a little scared of the fragility of their new relationship (their second date was perfect, just the two of them in one of their apartments, sitting next to each other and watching basketball, occasionally stealing food off of each other's takeout containers)

They don't know how to be near each other without a part of their bodies touching. And it's been that way since they were as platonic as it can be. Whether it's just pressing their shoulders against each other, knocking their knees together, or linking their pinkies together, they need to be consistently tethered to each other.

Paige comes up with a new nickname for Azzi almost every week. Some are sweet, some are corny and some are a little stupid but Azzi loves all of them, even if she rolls her eyes at them. The one constant is that Paige always adds "my" before anything, from "my love" to "my dumbass". But her favorite thing to call Azzi is simply just "my Azzi".

They don't say "I love you" all that often. It's an unspoken truth that they both just know and feel. And so when they do say it, it's extra special and it means just that much more.

Completely unedited mush that lives rent free in my head tbh. But y'all send me y'alls headcanons too cause I need cute Pazzi content while they're in their silence era lol.

[ask-adam-the-dickmaster]

So if Hell is forever, and sinners can't be redeemed. Does that mean Cain can't be redeemed ever?

"Well uh...I guess not...but Cain was the first murderer, jealous of Able when all he could've fuckin' done was make the correct offerings to God..but I guess that's what I get when I ate that damn fruit...he sighed in disappointment, wishing things were different ..⚡"

[ashwii]

don't you hate it when your brothers are a different temperature than you

They rlly do be having struggles bc of this huh, mikey can't even hug his big bro dang