#angst yaoi

[sgtdakota]

hi im new here /lie :)) a little yaoi of los prisioneros won't hurt anyone... a little tags to be safe.. lol. :) no no si me conocen no soy yo

[sethmacfarlanedeathpose]

Not so much toxic yaoi as angst yaoi: au where rogue is a cis man and gambit is slowly having to convince him to come out of his shell and confront his internalized homophobia left over from his shit father. Note: rogue♂️ is very pro gay however he has a lot of panic around allowing himself to be gay

OKAY NOW I HAVE TO DESIGN A MALE ROGUE CAUSE I WANT TO DRAW HIM KISSING GAMBIT AAAAHHH but like I love the idea of Gambit helping Rogue feel more comfortable with his sexuality but there's just so much trauma from his abusive father and anytime Gambit even flirts with him he remembers all the horrible shit said to him and he panics and just runs away.

[soimse]

“He wants me so bad he just doesn’t know it yet” -Bill Cipher probably

[dykeofmisfortune]

hilson season 1: haha i too am in this episode. why is wilson always following house around.

hilson season 8: i need you because i don't know what i'm gonna do without you. i don't wanna die at the hospital i want to die here in your arms. if you die i'm alone. I need you to tell me that you love me. i'm not going to tell you that unless you fight. you're destroying your entire life. you can never go back from this

[tk-m0ss]

"and you never knew-"

"-how much i really liked you."

"cus i never even told you"

"oh, but i meant to." -back to the old house, the smiths

chat is this angst

[one-real-imonkey]

I cannot emphasise enough that I love Billford for the message it delivers.

The ship itself is toxic yes, Bill was manipulative and awful and ultimately using Ford. For fictional angst, that’s great. But it’s more than that.

Because Ford gets out.

Ford gathers his courage and cuts Bill out as best he can. He reaches out and it’s not easy but he gets free of Bill. He gets his family back, he gets his life back, he gets to move forward. There are bumps in the road ad setbacks but ultimately he wins. He gets to have an after.

And it shows just how scary that can be. The paranoia and the setbacks and the trust issues. The way people in those situations lash out and close themselves off and the way it takes time to recover and move forwards.

It’s a powerful message, and an important one, and that’s why I love the ship.

[cass-a-rollie]

Vann has an old mean cat she takes care of. One of the last pieces of Calista she has left, this cat doesn’t normally warm up to strangers let alone people she just met..

+ some extras

‘From me to you, 20 years ago’

[sunjuice1]

deku if he never got ofa ahhh

[gelatinepride]

Itty bitty amnesiac!bill comic even tho I've never done something like this before I started this to get the idea out of my head and finished it just to prove to myself I could

if you notice anything, no you don't

[pemprika]

angel's requiem 👼🩸 sad kawoshin pin for all the angst enjoyers

[hereissomething]

ah yes, the toxic hate triangle

[the-bloody-sadist]

Sinner comfort sketches, as a treat 🖤

[wiggly-round-worm]

I think being possessed by Bill has permanent side effects, actually.

[icecreambeach]

anyone else get occasionally assaulted by thoughts of holmes and/or watson dying in sussex? like, maybe one day, when they are both very old, holmes wakes up to watson in his arms and he knows right away. he genuinely believed he would be the first to go. he steps downstairs and lights up a pipe. he stands there for a long time. he writes a few letters and sends them out. he walks around the house, observing everything. then he goes outside to sit near the bees. he listens to their soft humming and passes away in the sunshine.

or, one day, when they are both very old, watson comes back from the village to see holmes asleep in his chair. he knows right away. he genuinely believed he would be the first to go. he sobs and sobs and sobs. he writes letters by candlelight. then he writes more. he writes until he has nothing left to say. then he goes out and sits by the bees, who are all silent. he passes away under the moon.

[probslozer]

You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

You know I hate to say, "I told you so"

You know I hate to say, but, I told you so

[violestars]

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

© art by @/Ceoretkr on twt