#enjoy the angst

[snailsnaps]

REPROGRAMMED - PART 1

PART 2 -> [ HERE ]

Mikey's such a dum-dum, who walks into their enemy's lair all by themselves and expect everything to turn out okay??

[dat-lil-shark]

Pixie AU Humanformers (sneak peak)

This is still a work in progress, so I'm not showing anything more yet, but here's a sneak peak for you guys for the design of Pixie AU Humanformer Bee, Arcee, and Bulk (and their Pixies) (sorry I forgot to add the names on Arcee and Jack, as well as Bulk and Miko. But you guys can tell)

(and for those who don’t know what Pixie AU mean, it is an AU of mine where all the transformer bots are humans, and all the canon humans are Pixies. The Humanformers are still stranded on another planet but this time this planet is the planet of the pixies)

Bonus Bumblebee doodle:

[necroromantics]

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 16. // (masterlist)

The loud blaring scream from the old TV danced throughout the small living room of Nina’s apartment as the screen played a classic slasher film. Junk food and nail polish sprawled out on the hardwood floor beside the two girls as Natalie firmly gripped Nina’s hand in hers, applying another steady stroke of pink paint onto her nails. Only the glow from the TV screen, and the dim light from the lamp standing tall next to the couch, illuminated the dark apartment which had long been overtaken by the midnight hour.

Perching the brush in between her fingers, Natalie carefully ran the paint over Nina’s nail one last time, before leaning back and examining her handiwork. She watched as the girl blew over her freshly polished nails, as she beamed with excitement as she spread out her hands.

Natalie fought back a smile at the enthusiasm, and brought herself to her feet, stretching the late-night tiredness out of her overworked limbs.

“Gonna go out for a smoke. You coming?”

As her nails finished drying, Nina nodded, and jumped to her feet as well, and followed the tall girl over to the front door, grabbing her leather jacket as Natalie grabbed her coat.

The springtime weather outside had been warmer than other nights, with only the occasional chilly breeze rushing past the two girls standing on the front step of Nina’s apartment building. The downtown streets were consumed by the darkness, only the orange overhead glow of the flickering street lights reflected off of the wet roads, glistening in the little remaining snow that hid in the shadowy cracks and crevices between buildings. Natalie held her cigarette between her fingers, with her jacket draped over her pajama top. She stared out at the world around her, watching cars drive past, splashing the dirty water of the melting ice, the sound of the engine roaring. Taking a deep inhale of smoke, pressing her lips onto her cigarette as she thought to herself for a moment, she thought the busy nightlife of the moment was almost peaceful.

Nina sat herself down onto the cement step, arms crossed over her knees, and took a deep breath in. It was a quiet night, only the occasional car or pedestrian passed by. The stars were brighter than usual, mingling around the waning moon in the abyss skies.

Natalie glanced down at the girl, and took a seat next to her. The two girls sat in silence for a moment, letting the world move past them.

“So what's going on with you and Toby?” Nina asked, turning her head to look at Natalie, who looked back at her.

“What about us?”

“Like are you two a thing or…?”

“We’re just friends,” Natalie said, tapping the building ash off of her cigarette.

“Whaat! You two are so cute together though,” Nina continued to tease as the other rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think he even knows what he wants.”

“Well what do you want?”

Natalie took another long drag from her smoke as a drunken group stumbled down the sidewalk, past the pair, and down the street, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Another car drove past, the headlights reflecting off of the water collecting on the roads.

“I don’t know, just a quiet life I guess. I know Toby wants to go back to how everything was, but I don’t,” she sighed as she stared down at her burning cigarette, “I’d rather have a good life than have him.”

Nina stayed quiet for a moment, looking at the girl who looked down at her feet, with time and tiredness tracing her freckled face, her messy unwashed hair tangling itself over her shoulders. She was strong, made to be tougher than most girls her age. She was tall, she took up space without restraint. She was bold. Nina eyed the way Natalie’s brow furrowed, with disgust, or frustration, or shame. She watched as Natalie took her last deep breath in of smoke, and flicked the finished cigarette to the ground, inhaling life into her dazed body as she shook herself out of her own thoughts and back into the moment.

“But whatever, that doesn’t matter.”

“That’s like, really similar to how I felt with Jeff,” Nina said, “All I really want is to have a good life but how can I even achieve that if I’m just like, all alone, you know?”

“It’s better to be alone than with someone who makes you feel like shit, Nina.”

“I guess so. But I don’t want to live my life alone like there’s got to be something about me he can love, right? It doesn’t even matter anymore though, it’s not like he’s here,” She ran her hands over her ponytail, laughing sadly at herself.

“You don’t need to waste your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate you. Jeff was a dickhead to you anyways.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that even if he was a dickhead, I wish things were different.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Natalie muttered, groaning softly as she stood up, tailbone sore from the hard cement, “This conversation is getting too deep, let’s go inside.”

Natalie sat down on the couch beside Nina who buried herself under the covers and stretched out her legs. She laid back into the seat and placed her arms over Nina’s legs, watching the rest of the film playing out on the old TV, reaching for the remote to turn the volume down. When Natalie glanced over to the younger girl, she noticed Nina had fallen fast asleep, breathing softly as her chest gently raised and fell. She looked peaceful.

Natalie turned back over to watch the movie, the ambience of the world around her harmonizing with the suspense of the final scare before the credits rolled. She loved horror movies, how they never really had a happy ending. She thought it was most realistic how the main character fought so hard to survive, maybe even killed the killer, but could never truly be free from everything that had happened. The violence, the blood, being stripped from everything. Natalie thought that was what made horror movies so realistically gruesome. That she had a morbid understanding that no one else seemed to have. The only thing they didn’t get right, she thought, was that when the main character was the last one standing, there was never an annoying idiot in their life to insist he wanted to stand with them. Natalie had survived her own slasher film, the final girl, and the final asshole who didn’t understand personal space. When you survive a horror movie, she thought to herself again, you spend the rest of your life trying to make sure a sequel doesn’t happen. And Natalie’s mistake was befriending a serial killer.

As she watched the credit scene play alongside some suspenseful music, the girl turned the TV off with the remote. For a moment, she stared at her reflection bouncing off of the black screen, as if she was trapped in a void. She saw the kitchen lights from behind her shine over her in the reflection as well, and when the girl leaned her body away, it seemed the light seemed to follow. Natalie sighed and leaned back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling, the world quiet around her, the weight of Nina’s legs remaining still on her lap. She thought about the most dreadful things; she thought about Toby, the boy she considered her best friend.

She had never met anyone who had so closely resembled the sun. If she looked at him for too long, her eyes would burn. He was Icarus, and scorched wings. Teeth bared to the world as he fell. She thought back to a newspaper article she read about how when the sun dies, humans wouldn't know until eight minutes later. Natalie made it a point to stay eight minutes longer with him at any chance she could. She wanted to be there when his light went out.

The girl shook off her thoughts, and readjusted herself into a more comfortable position, before closing her eyes. She listened to the softly breathing girl draped across the couch, the occasional car passing, the creaking of the old apartment settling. . She listened to the sound of the clock on the wall ticking. Natalie listened to the world live on beyond her, and wondered how quiet it would be when the sun died. Her body fell heavy, breathing shallow, before the girl finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Natalie stretched the tiredness out from her slender limbs as she walked through the crisp warm countryside. The snow had begun to melt, dead grass from under the white blankets peaked out. Birds had begun to sing again, the subtle heat spread over her body as the girl made her way down the gravel roads. She dragged herself up the front porch steps, and into the house. Natalie listened as she heard the muffled TV playing from the livingroom, which meant Toby must have been home. Last time they talked, they had another argument over her unfavorable customers at the bar.

She shuffled past the living room, and into the kitchen, where the early morning sun shined past the windowsill, the white paint chipping. The old floorboards creaked under her sluggish steps as she turned on the coffee machine and went to grab her mug from the cupboard.

“Hey, how was the sleepover?” Toby asked from behind the girl, standing idly in the doorway.

“Where’s my mug?”

“What?”

“My coffee mug. Where is it?” Natalie closed the cupboard, and turned to face the boy, who always looked a little bit guilty of something.

“I accidentally dropped it last night, and-and it broke.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Toby stood silently for a minute, feeling the rage seeping from the girl across the kitchen.

“It’s just a fucking cup Nat, why are you mad?”

“‘Cause I told you to not touch my shit, Toby. You just don’t fuckin’ listen,” Natalie said, raising her voice as she pressed her hands together, trying to put a leash on her temper.

“Why the fuck do I gotta listen to you? You bitch me out over a fucking cup, I said it was an accident,” Toby raised his voice back, not quite willing to put his own leash on.

“Maybe have some respect for me and my things and we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Well maybe I just don’t respect stupid bitches, hows that sound?”

“Don’t call me a bitch, Toby, I swear to God.”

“Don’t act like a bitch then.”

“You’re fuckin’ unbelieveable” Natalie shouted, slamming her hands on the countertop before pushing past Toby, and out onto the front porch, closing the door hard behind her.

She dug a cigarette out of her pack, quickly lighting it, and closing her eyes as she inhaled. She felt the smoke go to her head, drowning out her racing thoughts, taking her teeth off of her tongue. Natalie let out a deep breath as she pressed her back to the wall, and squinted her eyes at the bright blue skies that draped over the rolling green fields.

The front door slowly creaked open, and Toby stepped out onto the porch beside the girl who refused to look at him.

“You should learn how to leave people alone,” she muttered as she continued to look off at the farmland ahead. Anywhere but him.

“You should learn to be less of a bitch.”

Natalie scoffed as she raised the cigarette to her lips once again, her free arm draped around her side, squeezing herself. Toby quietly stood by her, tapping his thumb onto his other hand and tried not to bite the inside of his cheek too hard.

“You know, I-I can just buy you a new mug,” he said softly, tripping over the words he forced out past his gnashing tongue, “I didn’t know you’d get so mad about it. I swear it was just an accident.”

“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter.”

The two stood in silence under the sun, listening to the passing breeze, and occasional birdsong. Natalie sighed to herself as she put out her cigarette, and nudged the boy’s arm with her own.

“Nina was telling me about this dumb frat party or something. She invited us, but I don’t know if you want to go.”

“Sure why not, better than being trapped in this place.”

The music blared loudly throughout the house, the bass of the song nearly causing the floor to shake. Toby groaned to himself as he noticed all of the people talking, drinking, laughing. Some dancing, some flirting. He couldn’t even hear himself think. He glanced over towards Natalie, who looked equally as uncomfortable, maybe even more than he was. The two pushed through the crowd of drunk strangers chatting amongst themselves, and into the kitchen where they saw Nina talking to a guy neither of them recognized. When she noticed them, Nina excitedly waved them over. Toby made his way towards the eccentric girl, and Natalie followed closely behind, pushing off a guy who accidentally knocked into her.

Nina poured four shots of vodka, and handed a glass to each of them. She plugged her nose while it went down, Toby shook off the taste, and Natalie swallowed the liquor down like she swallowed her pride.

“This is Joshua, he’s a friend of mine,” Nina shouted out, barely being able to speak over the stereo blasting dance and pop music. Toby scanned the older boy up and down, before easing his hostile expression, and giving a nod. He glanced over his shoulder at the girl behind him, watching as Natalie hugged herself with her arms, and glared around the room. The boy nudged her with his arm, gaining him a scowl before she realized it was him.

“Lighten up Nat, have another shot,” he shouted, leaning over to her so she could hear better.

“I’m going to take it slow, but you go wild.”

“Suit yourself,” Toby exclaimed before turning back over to Nina and the other boy introduced as Joshua, preparing himself to do another shot with the group.

Natalie took a step back as she made her way over to the chips, grabbing a paper plate as she piled some on, and sneaking herself a beer from the cooler. She pressed herself against the wall behind her as a couple of girls rushed past, giggling amongst themselves. Tossing a chip into her mouth, the girl watched quietly as Toby shotgunned a cooler with a few other boys. She watched as he brushed off the twitches and jerks in his fingers and arms. She couldn’t understand how it was so easy for him to talk to people. It was as if he had a special talent of making friends, while she couldn’t connect with people even if she wanted to. As she leaned her sore back against the wall, feeling the soft vibrations of the bass as the beat dropped, looking out over the sea of people in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she only existed in the shadow of the boy she called her best friend.

Natalie pressed her bottle to her lips as she choked down the last drop of beer, tossing the empty drink into the garbage can next to her, and pushing past people to make her way out into the backyard. The chill of the night brushed against her face as Natalie inhaled the fresh air, feeling the weight that suffocated her in that house fall off of her chest. Her hand dug into her jacket pocket as she pulled out a cigarette, replacing the cool, fresh air in her lungs with a burning smoke as she lit it, and inhaled. Natalie closed her eyes, sitting herself down on the hard cement step, the music barely muffled by the walls separating her from the party indoors. A few groups of people mingled outside alongside her, most of which held red solo cups in their hands, or joints, or cigarettes, chatting with people they’ve probably known their whole lives. The girl rested her arms over her knees as she stared down at the ground, listening to the world around her. She tried not to think about how slow, or fast, time was passing her by. She tried not to think much at all.

The girl sat on the step for a moment, finishing up her cigarette before flicking it to the ground. One song done, a couple seconds of silence, another one starts. Cheering, talking, yelling. Arguing, and yelling. One song ends, another one starts. Natalie groaned as she pulled herself up to her feet, making her way back into the party. As soon as she entered the house, back into the kitchen, she saw Nina quickly approach her, she stumbled a bit as she walked, anxiety painted her face alongside her flashy makeup.

“Oh my god there you are, I was looking all over for you,” Nina said as she grabbed Natalie’s hand, “I think Toby had too much to drink.”

The girls made their way into the living room, where they watched as Toby argued loudly with another unfamiliar boy.

“Toby I found Nat,” Nina shouted out, but he ignored her, or couldn’t hear.

Natalie watched on the sidelines as Toby drunkenly bickered back and forth with the college kid who was bigger, and taller than him. She watched as he insulted the other boy, put him down, clawed and bit his way to the top. It was a mortifying act, as if he had something to prove. As if he was lost in his own self-deception and lies. When the older boy called Toby a freak, Natalie watched as Toby tackled him to the ground, a hunger for revenge in his dark eyes. She watched as everyone crowded around, watching the younger boy take the bigger one to the floor, and beat him senseless. Even the pop songs blaring in their ears couldn’t muffle out the sounds of shouting, and yelling, and Toby threatening the other.

“Say that shit again,” he screamed louder than any bass the stereo could produce, “you think it’s fucking funny now, huh?”

Natalie's first pet was an elderly herding dog. As it aged with her, she watched as her companion succumbed to old age when she was only a child. She watched as Nina yelled for them to stop, other men pulling Toby off. When he looked at her, she saw a familiar look in his eyes. She knew better than anyone how to let a dying dog die. The sun was burning out, the girl thought. Natalie stayed for an extra seven minutes before storming out that night. She changed her mind before the eighth. She decided that she was better off not witnessing the light die too. That girl never really liked the dark.

As she pushed past the crowd of people, some shouting, most watching, and out through the front door, she tried to ignore the wasted boy who followed out after her. Natalie made her way down the road, pretending like she couldn’t hear Toby calling her name.

“Nat for fucks sake slow down,” he yelled out, running up to the girls side. She bared her teeth and quickened her pace, rejecting the orders of the boy. As he grabbed her hand, and stumbled over himself, Natalie had then noticed how bloody he was. He didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home,” she replied as she yanked her hand away from his grasp.

“What, why?”

“Because you’re acting like a lunatic!”

“So what? You think that makes you better than me?” Toby slurred his words as he raised his voice, unable to stand still as he tripped over himself.

“I didn’t say that,” Natalie spoke back.

“Well you sure fucking act like it.”

“What’s your problem?”

“There’s no problem, I’m having the time of my fucking life,” he shouted out, pushing past her and walking himself back home. He wiped the blood from his nose as he walked ahead of her.

Natalie stood for a moment, letting distance grow between them as the boy continued down the street, and shook her head in disbelief.

Toby burst through the front door of the quiet little farmhouse draped in the darkness of the midnight hour. Sobriety began to wash over him as he collapsed onto the couch that night. His finger ran over his lip as he noticed blood pouring from his busted mouth. He didn’t remember being hit, but was sure the other boy must’ve gotten a few good punches in. Toby turned himself over onto his back as he looked up into the dark livingroom, he couldn’t even remember why he started the fight in the first place. All he knew was that he would do it again. That he would spend his life fighting, and sleeping on the couch. It was him against the world, and he did what he had to do to survive. As he closed his heavy eyes, the buzz still warming his body, he made sure he heard Natalie come into the house before he let himself fall asleep.

[the-kingshound]

Decision - part 2 of ?

TW: suicidal/self harming thoughts, description of violence, grief.

Time has lost all kind of matter or significance. After having torn the masked person apart limb by limb, slowly, until your clothes and your hair and your skin drip blood, still tasting metal in your mouth, you have functioned in an empty shell. Their screams weren't satisfying, they wouldn't be enough for the pain caused. The wound on your abdomen is closed, but pulses and doesn't hurt nearly enough.

You took down Arthur and Saraah's bodies. You hugged them and dry heaved. You weren't able to truly cry. It hurt too much, to hold their cold boneless body, so you didn't allow yourself any more contact than necessary.

It is your fault.

You stay in the room where it all happened. An unbearable amount of time later, someone finds you, kneeling in a pool of blood like a broken useless doll.

"Oh, no..."

It's Merlin. He gets you out. He enchants the bodies you hold not to rot, preserving them. When your mind starts revolting and clawing at your chest, Merlin shushes you like a small child.

"Drink," he tells you, placing a tea in your hand. You do, only because the warm smell of it compels you to as intended.

Merlin keeps you sedated for a while. Sometimes you wake, groggy, laid inside his tent. He is either working on your injury, or making potions and teas. He makes you drink something that pulls you into consciousness again. And again. Perhaps he wants to spare you, but from the very first conscious inhale you take when you wake, pain devours you whole and doesn't stop until you fall into magic induced sleep again.

The fourt time you wake up, he does allow you too stay awake. For good measure, he puts a warm cup in your hand.

"That is just for the nausea," he explains, somewhat avoiding your gaze. As if he knew it was your fault, as if he blamed you and he SHOULD he should blame you-

"I didn't make it in time," Merlin confesses, taking a steaming mug for himself. This time, he is looking at you, and he looks so old and tired. Guilty. "Mordred alerted me. Told me where to look. But I was too late and now..."

He takes a small sip of his tea. "I never though I would have to live past my boy. I hoped I wouldn't. I am old enough, as you can see."

Your heart breaks. You want to throw up, to destroy the tent, to tear up the entire kingdom.

Merlin then places the pomel of a sword in your hand. You feel a wave of anguish, instantly washed down in favour of warm consolation. Excalibur grieves, and yet it tries to soothe your pain.

"Here. Hold it. It wanted to stay with you."

You swallow, and this time you might cry. For a brief moment you feel an intense desire to cut your throat with Excalibur but you know it will stay blunt.

You have to bring your King and your brother home.

[its-ironic-right]

The best response I can get are tears ✨

[brekitten]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Danny Fenton Additional Tags: Crossover Angst Week 2024, Fenton Thermos (Danny Phantom), Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Ambiguous/Open Ending, how do i freaking tag why is it so hard Series: Part 4 of Bre's Crossover Angst Week 2024 Summary:

Peter wouldn't ever admit it (though he's pretty sure that Tony already knows and just hasn't said anything yet), but he was a dumpster diver. At this point, he may even be a professional. He did it fairly regularly, always searching for anything that could be useful.

Of course, he wasn't really sure if the thermos could be considered useful, but there had been tech added to it at some point in time - and that was what made it interesting.

So, he took it with him to his lab day with Tony. Getting it to work could be a fun little side project for them.

  Trapped in the thermos for months or years

Day four! Got about half of it done last night, then finished it today. So... 2 and a half fics done yesterday? Does that count? XD

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57329905

[super-rangers]

[jenonctcity]

[5:35pm]

Warnings: Angst

 “You don’t mean that…” The words fell from your lips softer than a feather hitting the ground. You couldn’t quite grasp onto the words that had just been said to you. No, not said, screamed. Shaking your head, you squeezed your watery eyes shut, liquid pooling in the waterline enough to make a small barely there tear roll down one of your hot cheeks. The words you just heard bounced around your head as you tried to make sense of them, of the meaning behind them. But you couldn’t quite conjure up an explanation for it. “Donghyuck,” You choked on your words before you could say anything else, opening your eyes and giving the broken man in front of you a sympathetic look. Gulping to try and clear the lump in your throat you continued on, “You can’t mean that.”

“Well I fucking do.” His own voice had lowered in volume, the defeat settling into his system as he looked at you with sad eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting from you when he had screamed his confession of his feelings for you. Feelings that he knew he shouldn’t be feeling about his best-friend’s long-term girlfriend. Perhaps you would have given him a big loving smile and ran into his arms elated, claiming your love for him and you would both live happily ever after. But he knew he was stupid for that scenario to even creep into his mind. In a way he didn’t want that to even happen, not when Mark had been banging on about proposing to you for the past month. It had been like Donghyuck’s personal hell, having to listen to all the different ways Mark could think of to pop the big question to you. It made it even worse that he had been expected to help him in finding the perfect way for it to happen.

How you’d even gotten to this confession was a blur. It started with him coming over to drop off tickets for a basketball game, which then led to him stopping for a slice of the cake you’d made the day before, then came the topic of relationships. You’d quizzed him on the crush that you knew he had on someone, a crush that Mark liked to tease him about despite not knowing who the mystery lady was. You’d never have guessed that under the pressure of your questions he would crack and confess his love to you.

“Donghyuck-“You started but he cut you off.

“Don’t. I know.” He said and shook his head, not wanting to hear the rejection from you that he knew was coming. You sighed softly, your stomach filled with butterflies that felt like they were holding tiny daggers as you still tried to make sense of this situation. Had you somehow led him on? Given him the wrong idea? Why did he feel this way about you? Hundreds of questions crossed your mind that you wanted, needed answered for. “Forget about it.” He said snappily, shaking his head as he turned away from you, heading towards the door of the apartment that you shared with your boyfriend.

“Wait!” You called out, rushing to him and grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving.

“(Y/N) please…” His voice sounded like nothing you’d ever heard from the usually chipper man. You’d never heard his voice so filled with raw emotion and hurt before and it made your heart cry.

“Donghyuck, we need to talk about this, you can’t just leave after telling me that you love me and pretend that this never happened.” You said firmly, hoping that if you put your foot down with him then he would give you the answers that you needed. His eyes met yours, the dark irises swimming with guilt, shame, and longing. It had your head pounding and your chest hurting seeing him this way. Whilst he was Marks friend first, he was also yours. You’d spent so much time with him that it was inevitable that you and he would become friends. You just didn’t expect him to develop feelings other than strictly platonic.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m madly in love with my best-friend’s girlfriend and now I’ve made an absolute idiot out of myself by telling her! Just, forget it! Please!” The desperation in is voice was telling you that he was panicking about it all, which was understandable as you knew he thought you’d tell Mark. You had no intention of telling Mark though, not wanting to ruin their friendship over something that you could try and keep under wraps for as long as possible. He pulled his arm out of your grasp, which you hadn’t even realised you were still holding and you sighed to yourself as you watched him practically pull the door off its hinges in his haste to leave.

“Donghyuck!!” You called but it was too late. The door slamming echoed in your ears in the same way that his confession echoed in your head, leaving you with an empty feeling in your chest.

[mercuriians]

my paradise

jjk,, k. nanami x fem! reader

content info — short drabble, angst horribly and lazily disguised as fluff. <3 this fic was borne out of my own anguish upon witnessing certain spoilers. (gege hates us all)

author’s note — sorry for being mia. you guys all know how life can be. luckily i’m on break so i’ll do my best to send out at least one finished request 🙂‍↕️ i’ll fix this post’s format later, for now i hope you guys enjoy my first attempt at writing jjk.

"do you think heaven exists?"

you utter your question so softly, so innocently, in a timid whisper that seems like it barely even leaves your lips in the first place. the moonlight seeping from the window is dim, just enough to surround the room in a bleak, lazy kind of aura. nanami's just about ready to drift away into slumber—where it's dreamless and monotonous, and he simply just exists—but somehow there's a feeling that tugs at him. telling him that he should turn his body to face you, to see whether there's childlike curiosity within your eyes or quiet desolation.

so that's what he does. twisting around in the ivory bedsheets, he examines your expression with an air of diligence that probably shouldn't even be possible in the near-midnight hour. nanami ends up being a bit surprised. somehow you look calm. tranquil. like there's nothing else in the world worth focusing on but him.

but he still treads carefully, cautiously. "why do you ask, love?" nanami's voice is a bit hoarse, a little rusty from the lengthy time he's been silent.

perceptively, he sees the column of your throat move slightly as you swallow. "while i was on break earlier today, yuji asked me something," you admit. "he wanted to know how he could, in his words, 'give people a proper death' when the time came. and i guess that made me think about where we even go when we finally depart from this world. where our souls go to rest."

there's a small, intimate pause as nanami waits for you to continue.

"when we were kids, we were always told that there's a place for the good people and for the bad. obviously it's comforting to let yourself believe that it's all really that black-and-white, but i don't know." your voice trails off again. nanami doesn't know how much time passes when he sees your eyes become clouded over, like you're focused on something faraway. something distant, maybe something that wasn’t even there to begin with. "would there be some sort of paradise waiting for us when we die? would we even deserve that, kento?” you whisper.

he holds his breath.

it was exceedingly rare for you to succumb to such sentimentality. you were almost always driven with diligence, fueled by the need to stick to your schedule of early mornings, midday coffee breaks, and late shifts. in a world where curses ruthlessly threatened to enforce a strict hierarchy of chaos, he recognized the all-too-significant desire to at least maintain a reliable form of organization. especially considering the fact that you were both first-grade sorcerers. some of the very best.

but now, nanami's realizing that maybe, maybe the reason why you were always so vigilant is because there was no other option. there was no time to wallow in self-pity, to question why you both had to live in such a merciless society, to scream out in frustration and curse out every single damn thing in existence and wish that things had been at least a little bit easier.

either you accepted the cards you were dealt with, or you opted out of the game permanently.

nanami quickly wonders what that means for himself. but he shakes off the thought, shakes off the negativity that crept up on him for a split-second with the expertise that he's collected and honed over the years.

right now, his only objective revolved around you.

gently, he reaches out, touching your face with the calloused tips of his fingers. for a moment, he traces the smoothness of your skin, like a paintbrush to a canvas, before moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the way you look up at him with eyes just short of being teary makes his chest tighten, but he perseveres for you.

it's all for you. whether he likes it or not.

"i don't know the answer to that, and any sane person living on this planet wouldn't know either," nanami finally utters. as his words hit the empty air, he sees your pink lips curve upwards by the slightest bit. it’s like you can’t help but be amused by his trademark bluntness. even in the middle of such a bleak conversation, nanami’s glad that he can at least bring you some resemblance of joy.

“but the way i see it,” he continues, hand dipping down to find yours almost instinctively, “none of that matters.”

your brows furrow. you curl into his comforting figure. “what do you mean?”

nanami’s eyes meet yours. “i couldn’t give less of a damn about what happens after death. not when i’m here with you in this moment,” he whispers, unable to restrain himself from inching closer, closer towards your face, “and hopefully the millions after.”

his lips brush against your own. it’s tentative, even almost shy—his way of asking you if this is alright.

you seal the gap without a second thought.

nanami pulls you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, as if he was unwilling to ever let go.

the intimacy of it all is enough to make him forget that for a moment, he was lost in thought, lost in the realization that people truly were helpless to whatever happened in the afterlife. but really, above all else, he was a soldier—had been since the day he enrolled at jujutsu high. and as long as you were safe, nothing else would matter. including his own—insignificant, small, dispensable—life.

at that moment, nanami’s armor became yours instead.

[no-white-dress]

Alright the poll's still going but the result is Clear enough. Have this thing

"There had been a time when Icy had wanted to take over the world. She wasn’t sure she wanted that anymore, she wasn’t sure she wanted anything at all. But she still remembered that when she had wanted that, she had wanted the world for herself and her sisters, not for capricious, power-crazed ghosts."

[snailsnaps]

PROGRAMMED OBSOLESCENCE [intro]

The basic premise? Villain Donnie.

There aren't enough Villain!Donnie AUs, at all.

In Rise, I think Dee has a lot of villain potential, but is kept in line thanks to his family. And still, he treads around the 'chaotic good' area. (Let's remember the Uranium, how he almost shot down his father, shooting a tranquilizer to his brother out of curiosity, inserting sub-cutanean trackers on his brothers without consent...)

So... what if his brothers weren't there? Do you realize how far he could go? I wanted to explore that.

Here, his brothers were never there to keep him in line, they never met eachother, well, until now. How have they never met though? A basic 'separated au' kind of situation. He was left behind in the lab explosion, thought dead, never mentioned to his brothers. Growing up alone, the silence being replaced with the worst kinds of thoughts.

But there's still a lot I need to explore, develop, etc...

[mythicaltoad]

The feeling when you want something but you’re afraid of what might happen if you let yourself have it :I

Anyway, enjoy this sketch. Bye 😘 ✌️

[dcbbw]

Commoner

Before anyone gets super excited that I have finally written and posted a full-fledged fic, please be aware that this is a Savannah Walker story, and there isn’t a main LI or primary character in sight. And no happy ending guaranteed.

Yeah, sounds risky A.F. for a romance reader, but it’s a take on what leads to her circumstances pre-social season (a story we don’t know a lot about), and bonus for me: I get to explore a facet of my head canon of Leo x Savannah (Lavannah).

I may be the only person currently in this fandom with this ship in her head. Seriously.

This story was born of a long-standing head canon, and the song inspiration (original version but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement were invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 61 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

This post will be broken into two parts (WORD.COUNT.)

Part 2 here

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,493

Rating: M for Mature themes

The car smells of rich leather mixed with pheromones and sweat, as it always does when we’re together. It’s a deeply masculine aroma that I will forever associate with him. The fingers of one of my hands tangle in his hair, the other hand is splayed against his back, my fingernails digging into his skin. I let out a soft gasp as his teeth scrape against my neck; I feel my head fall back further against the car’s seat.

The moon roof is open and the Cordornian night sky is a ribbon of black silk, the twinkling stars a scatter of white. I feel I should close my eyes, let scent and touch bask in this moment but I want to see. I want the most insignificant details of this night imprinted upon my brain because no matter how often these trysts occur, they are still too infrequent.

It always ends the same When it was me and you

I hadn’t expected to see him tonight. When I saw him earlier, he looked harried. Busy.

Uninterested.

I walk down the hall of the West Wing of the Palace, standing straight and tall with my shoulders back. Just as I was taught. I’m not supposed to be here; the West Wing is for the royal family. I am neither. Rather, I am an orphaned commoner, a ward of the Crown due to the most devastating circumstances.

I see the Crown Prince and feel the familiar butterflies. My breath hitches and I stumble a bit in my heels because my legs suddenly can’t support my weight. The way this man makes me feel … it is nothing as mere as a crush, nor is it infatuation. It’s love.

First love.

He wears a white oxford shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The top buttons undone give me a glimpse of his neck, throat, and a few errant chest hairs. His shirtsleeves are neatly rolled to his elbows, and I swear I can see the soft down of hair that covers his forearms. He is surrounded by staff … as usual. One hand holds stacks of paper; the other a pen. Even from our still considerable distance, I can hear the group’s murmurs, and see the furrow of his brow and the frown on his lips as he peruses a document. I see him decisively shake his head ever so slightly before handing the paper back to his assistant. He then leans over to whisper in the secretary’s ear before he breaks away from the large group.

He is heading my way, but I know he is unaware I am here. I can tell by the way he walks, the slight clench of his hand. When he gets closer, I drop into a low curtsy. “Your Royal Highness,” I greet in a low voice.

His eyes glance my way, but he doesn’t see me. He acknowledges my salutation with a distant nod as he fishes his phone from his pocket, dialing a number by heart. I don’t hear his words as he speaks into his mobile, but I know he’s talking to her. Even though all of Cordonia knows he doesn’t love her, my heart still breaks a little.

That night while the hour is still young despite the full moon in the now-darkened sky, I am ready for sleep. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I’m wearing a pink babydoll nightgown. I am climbing into bed when my phone rings.

“Meet me in the garage. The Aston Martin.”

He hangs up, not waiting for my response. We both know it’s in the affirmative.

My nightgown is still bunched around my neck; the side of his thumb idly strums against one of my nipples. The Crown Prince of Cordonia lays atop me as we share a fevered kiss. His tongue in my mouth feels firm, assertive, yet so soft as it rolls against mine. Our hips are still pressed together as his now-limp manhood slips from my center.

He ends the kiss slowly, his lips lingering over mine before pulling away completely. He awkwardly climbs off me and I scoot into a corner of the back seat before sitting up and pulling down my nightgown. I thrust my arm downward to the car’s floor to retrieve my underwear. Leo remains shirtless as he struggles to pull up his boxer briefs and pants. 

We always have sex in the backseat of one of the many cars belonging to the royal family. We cannot chance being caught in either of our rooms; those spaces are off-limits to both of us. Crown properties, hotel rooms …  either here or in neighboring duchies and countries … are a risk he isn’t willing to chance. There’s staff, security, paparazzi everywhere.

Reputations are at stake.

We position and maneuver ourselves so we are stretched out on the backseat, his arm draped around my side and my head on his chest. His heartbeat fills my ear as we cuddle and talk.

This is my favorite part. Yes, a physical attraction is important, but an emotional bond and mental connection is paramount. I may only be 18, but I’m an old soul.

We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me We'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat

We lay quietly, our breathing becoming even and our heart rates slowing. I hear the spring breeze above us rustle tree leaves, and crickets chirping. Leo exhales a long breath that blows through my hair before speaking.

“You’ll be going to Ramsford next week.” His statement rumbles from his chest to my ear.

My nose scrunches in confusion. Ramsford? “Why?”

“You successfully completed your mandatory education six months ago. Now it’s time for you to learn the ways of Court: etiquette, societal norms, lineage of the various families … stuff that only the bluebloods care about. Bertrand has agreed to tutor you for one month.”

I bite my lip. Once upon a time, being recognized as an aristocratic member of Cordonian society had been my only goal. To wear a silk gown, with tendrils of my hair falling in soft curls against my cheek while being announced as Lady Savannah Walker would have been a dream come true.

Not anymore.

Now, I just want to be Leo’s wife one day.

“No!” I respond petulantly. “I don’t want to go.”

He pulls me closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Hey,” he says gently, “even the nobles have to do it. It’s a rite of passage into Court.” Silence before he asks quietly, "It's what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“Not anymore,” I protest as I bury my face into his chest.

He continues as if I had never spoken.

“It’s for the best. You’ll learn our ways and find a nobleman to marry you and make you a Lady.” He pauses; when he speaks again, contrition laces his tone. “That didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. AND you need to network. Get yourself an ally … an advocate; Drake has Liam. You need someone as well.”

“I have you …”

“I leave in three days for the Mediterranean cruise; two weeks after that, it’s Coronation. Six weeks later, the wedding. Whatever I am able to do for you as Crown Prince changes once I become King.”

His words slice me apart as he speaks them in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. And that is when I conclude this love is one-sided.

“I see,” I reply coolly as I pull away, signaling I am ready to leave.

Leo doesn’t release me. “Don’t put all the blame on me.”

“I’m not,” I lie as I avert my eyes from his gaze.

His eyes close briefly before they re-open. Even in the dark shadows of the automobile, they are intensely blue, like flames of gas.

“I’m 27 years old, and the last decision I made for myself by myself was when I was five years old! There are so many things I want to do, things I have never done! And I never will, all because of station and status.”

His head falls, his breath catches in his throat. “You want nothing more than this life you think I’m living, and I want nothing more than to leave it.”

“NOT ANYMORE!” I rage as I bend over to look for my shoes. “I just want YOU!”

“Why?” he asks. The question is simple enough, yet I can’t help but feel it’s a loaded weapon.

I find my shoes but stay bent over. My hair is a curtain that hides my face. “I’m in love with you.”

Silence as he ponders my answer. “Emotions don’t do well at Court. You want to be labeled a crown chaser? Because no one would ever believe that we’re together for love.”

He sits up, pulling his shirt back on. “Being with me comes with a price, love. You’ll go broke trying to pay it.”

I slip on my sneakers and open the car door so I can step outside and put on my trench coat. “You’re breaking up with me and sending me to Ramsford so you no longer have to be bothered!” I accuse. “It’s out of sight, out of mind with you nobles!”

My voice cracks and stumbles over the words, but I don’t cry. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Fully dressed, he climbs out of the car, walking around to my side to help me with my coat. He pulls me into an embrace before adjusting my collar and fastening buttons.

“You deserve someone who can openly be with you. Someone who can fuck you in a bed. Someone who will love living their life with you, not someone who will grow to resent you because of the life they have to live.”

“And you wait until after we have sex to TELL MY THIS?” I holler. “THIS is something best discussed over comfort food and wine, NOT in the back seat of your father’s car!”

He sighs, his forehead in his palm. “I needed at least one more night with you.”

He lifts his face to meet my skeptical gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you, Vannah but the trajectory my life is on right now, I will. Hell, I ALREADY AM! I know you don’t see it the way I do, but I am trying to help you avoid wasting your life and breaking your own heart.”

We climb into the Aston Martin’s front seats, a stony silence between us. He’s absolutely correct in that I don’t see it his way, and I never will. Yet, we hold hands during the ride back to the Palace, trying to maintain our fragile connection.

It's something that I hate How everyone's disposable

Two weeks later, I am sitting in House Beaumont at the breakfast table, nibbling on chicken apple sausage and toast. My phone is placed beside my plate, but I have no notifications, no texts, no emails. I haven’t heard from Leo in three days. That is when our communications ended; my last message to him sits on delivered.

Unread.

The night before he left for his cruise, Leo slipped into my room unannounced. I gasp in fright and disbelief; we haven’t spoken since our last time together. Since he dumped me. I stare at him as the shock and surprise of the Crown Prince being in my South Wing bedroom dissipates. He returns my gaze steadily as he strides to me and pulls me almost harshly against him.

His lips seek mine, and our kiss is salty from tears; I still don’t know if they were mine or Leo’s.  With only Nora Jones crooning in the background, we hastily undress each other; my dress falls atop his shirt. His pants fall against my bra; our underwear tangles as they join the heap piled upon the carpet.

I kiss his neck softly as I straddle his lap. He marks mine as his lips and mouth blaze a trail down my body. He kisses the inside of my thighs before whispering he’s in love with me too; he then feasted upon my sex, and I think I died a little bit.

Night is lifting, a hidden sun streaking the sky with oranges and pinks when he leaves, promising to text me every day.

“SAVANNAH! Why is your phone on the table during a meal? And sit up straight, you’re slouching again!”

Bertrand’s overdramatic reprimand jostles me from my reverie, and I roll my eyes. I drop my sausage onto my plate. I’m not really hungry; the smell of strong-brewed coffee and the sight of eggs is making me nauseous. Maxwell’s eyes meet mine and he gives me a sympathetic look; I shake my head reassuringly before turning to face his brother.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I mistakenly assumed that since you were reading the newspaper, my phone would be acceptable this morning,” I say in a conciliatory tone.

The Duke looks flustered, obviously expecting a different reaction. I take the time to study the features he has grown into. However, becoming the youngest Duke at Cordonian court in centuries has taken a toll on him: his brow is constantly in a state of furrow, and his mouth is forever downturned. His eyes are filled with worry and disdain.

Despite this, Bertrand is extremely good-looking. Most assholes are.

I ask to be excused; the nausea is rising and I’m feeling light-headed.

“Are you okay, Sav?” Maxwell asks in concern.

“I’ll be fine,” I say convincingly.

As I leave, I hear a cellphone ring, but it isn’t mine, so I don’t care.

Two more weeks pass, and I realize I am pregnant.  My cycle is six weeks late, my breasts are swelling and slightly tender to the touch, and certain smells make me nauseous. Of course it’s Leo’s, he is my first and only lover. No one knows; I’m too in shock to tell anyone. And who would I tell?

Leo is the obvious choice, but he has yet to respond to any of my messages. The newspapers and social media are exploding with news of a supposed abdication and accounts of his adventures with some mystery woman from the cruise ship. There are photos of them taking in tourist sites, sneaking underneath a fence covered with NO TRESPASSING signs, feeding each other street food.

Rumor has it he returned to Cordonia briefly with the woman in tow, abdicated the Crown, broke off his relationship with Madeleine, and disappeared like a thief in the night.

I don’t believe any of it. He was in love with me, he said so. He would have told me if he were abdicating. He would have rushed to me to tell me the wedding was off.

Wouldn’t he?

Except he was no longer speaking to me ….

And then one random night when everything changes You won't reply and we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 ​@ao719 @marietrinmimi​ @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​​ @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14​​​ @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

[wormstacheangel]

Light slowly twinkled away from the living room as the fire dyed out. Leaving Dean to start feeling the uncomfortable cold. The winter air always stung a little more when he was alone in the dark. The warmth of the fire was long gone and intrusive thoughts kept him company as he walked through the empty house. 

Another day of opening old books and shutting them close with no answers found is coming to an end. He didn’t feel any closer to solving their problem but he still carried the hope of seeing him again. 

“He’s gone.” He locked the doors.  “He wouldn’t want you anymore.” He checked the windows.  “He’s never coming back.” He checked the traps.  “He won’t love you.” He prepared the coffee machine for the morning. “You’re useless.” He turned off the kitchen light. “You’re nothing compared to him.” He dragged his feet. “You’re nothing.”

Nothing. 

Nothing.

Cold. The world always felt cold when Cas was gone but it felt internal nowadays. 

He longed for the warmth of arms that only held him to say goodbye. It felt as if that was all they said to each other. Dean wished he would have been brave enough to say, “I’ll miss you.”

It was barely a whisper in the old house but he froze.

Dean stopped in front of the window that overlooked the water. The moon was bright tonight, reflecting over the water while it also lit up the back of his house. It will be home soon. 

He imagined how warm the house will be once it became a home. He can stand here and enjoy the view while Cas holds him. No fear. Just trust. 

Just love. 

“I love you.” He proudly says to the moon. Looking up at it with a strong longing to hear those words said back to him. But his house only echoed his footsteps and the crashing waves so, with a sigh, he keeps on walking to bed. 

Tonight it’s cold. The heater doesn’t work and the empty space in bed isn’t helping but tomorrow is another day for the sun to warm his house.

[portals-skycontent]

I know this is the first post for this sub-account, but here's some angst of my characters LMAO

(Current theories overall is that the skykids lose their memory when going through Eden, but over time (across multiple runs) they regain those memories, including some Before Death. This is Cherry's (little one) First time through and Aria has been through it plenty.)

If you have questions about them, feel free to ask! I'll try my best to respond to them (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

[brekitten]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Danny Fenton, Jack Fenton (Danny Phantom), Maddie Fenton, Peter Parker Additional Tags: Crossover Angst Week 2024, Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Identity Reveal, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Ambiguous/Open Ending Series: Part 3 of Bre's Crossover Angst Week 2024 Summary:

Saving his dad was the worst mistake of Danny's life.

And boy is he paying for it.

Bleeding out in an alleyway

Day 3! I'm on a roll today. Wonder if I could squeeze in a third fic 🤔 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57306013