#enjoy your angsty pixels

[kaklord]

Spock angst please 🙏

perhaps McCoy arguing about how he needs to be careful on away missions.

guess who forgot to make the pen the right size again

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[teeful-corner]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ How? .ᐟ. . . (THE FUCK ARE YOU ALIVE!?) Lloyd Garmadon x Reader | Gender Neutral Reader

ੈ˳light Dragons Rising (s1) spoilers, reference to previous seasons; Ghosts of the past come to haunt Lloyd in the future, while somehow also quelling a long-term ache in his heart. ੈ˳tags / warning: implied relationship, death (slightly detailed), dealing of lost and angsty Lloyd, Jay and Cole are still not back :(, not proof read! 4.9k words.

"Hey Lloyd!" Arin called from the library, catching Lloyd's attention sharply as he tried to pass by. The call didn't seem urgent, yet Lloyd wasn't going to do anything of particular urgency either, so he decided to peak inside; he was also wondering why (and how) Arin was in the Library. Not that it had been locked, or anything of the sort, yet because the Library somewhere that Lloyd would have thought Sora would be, not Arin. Hmm, maybe scratch that. Arin would probably be in the Library if it meant he could learn anything about the ninja. Good dedication, he had to admit, albeit it a tad weird. "Yeah Arin?" Lloyd called back when Arin didn't turn his attention over to him, still engrossed in whatever he was looking at. When Lloyd entered the room, walking over to Arin to peer at the book from behind, he would soon notice it was an old photo album. Zane, Pixel, and Nya used to keep it up to date with adventures and general family outings. "Who's that? I don't think I ever remember a ninja wearing purple on your team before." Arin asked, pausing for a minute before he added on quite proudly. "And I know more about you guys than anyone should know!"

The photo that Arin was looking at was a group photo, one in front of the Monastery before one of the countless times it got burnt down. Sometimes Lloyd couldn't help but wonder why they didn't rebuild the Monastery out of something that was inflammable; though he guessed Master Wu always enjoyed coming back to a Monastery that hadn't changed. And Lloyd had to admit, it was also a nice change of pace of the constant changing world outside. It felt like a part of the chaotic world was standing still; even if that feeling was usually a brief one. Yet, in the photo, Arin would point at a Ninja who was piggy-backing off of Lloyd back. Well, maybe not piggy-backing. It was more of, at the time of the photo, they had jumped onto Lloyd's back and he was in the process of falling down. Meanwhile, Kai had burst out laughing and Nya was elbowing him, rather harshly, with a snicker. Though her efforts were rather targeted as seeing the rest of the team was already bursting out in bubbly laughter. Lloyd swore he could hear all their laughter echo in his pointed ears, like the day had just happened. But he knew he was wrong. His eyes became saddened as much as he tried to smile; if not to soothe Arin, then to soothe himself. "Ah, well, that's the Master of Crystals." Lloyd began to explain to Arin, who craned his neck back to look up at Lloyd. "...um, shoot. What can I say about them?" Lloyd tried not to laugh at his own short comings, a habit that he was constantly teased for yet he couldn't help. "The Master of Crystals?" Arin mumbled in echo to Lloyd's statement. His eyes filtered back down to the frozen photo, taking in how blurry everyone looked from moving. He couldn't help but crack a smile. "You two seem close!" "We were!... we really were." Lloyd's voice drew off a bit, his eyes glancing to the side as he still tried to wrack his mind on what to say. He knew if he said too much he would start crying, yet he also knew that Arin would want to know as much as possible. Yet how could he sum up them in words? That task, Lloyd thought, was impossible. "I wish you could have met them," Lloyd would find himself mumbling. "They were amazing, well as great as a person can be." Lloyd started as Arin turned to face him again, photobook still supported in his hands. "They were rather talented, some of their paintings are actually hung around the Monastery - well those that didn't burn in the fires. They were. . . wonderful, incredibly funny at all the wrong times. Fearless, in their own way, and yet reckless at the same time. Master Wu always scolded them for jumping head first into situations instead of using their head. "They were rather passionate as well, yet somehow managed to be a total introvert; they would not speak to the press, nor anyone they were uncomfortable with. Always gave one of the Ninja this stare that screamed 'help me'. Social awkwardness, that's the word for it." Lloyd couldn't help but smile as memories began to surface themselves after being dormant for years. Arin kept his eyes on Lloyd as he spoke, only occasionally glancing down at the picture to look of the Ninja that Lloyd spoke of. Arin couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't heard of them before. "They were also kind... maybe too kind." Lloyd paused in his speech, he had been rambling for a while before his words fell short. So much so Arin had noticed that Kai stopped to listen from the doorway; he seemed curious on the conversation, yet soon realized who Lloyd was talking about and grew the same solemn look. "What happened to them?" Arin was compelled to ask when he noticed all the past-tense that Lloyd was using when describing the Purple Ninja; furthermore the solemn look that the two grew when speaking about them. Yet, Arin wasn't sure if those looks were because the Ninja got lost during the merge. . . or if something before the merge happened.

The silence was more deafening than a rock-n-roll concert. Arin's brain was flooded with reasons for the sudden silence, ranging from the simplest answer (they were lost in the Merge) and the most complex scenario his brain could possibly think of. He would gingerly close the photo album and try and place it back into the shelf, "We don't have to talk about it if you guys don't want to!" He was quick to rush out. He didn't want to cause any sort of discomfort, and the silence suggested he had; that or he had just resurfaced some horrible memories that were being shoved away. Arin didn't hear when Kai had came over to the two, jumping when he felt the sudden warm hand on his shoulder, and gingerly glancing back over to Kai. He seemed in a much better shape about the question than Lloyd was. Arin knew Kai was trying to offer some sort of smile to soften the anxiousness that coursed through Arin - yet his smile wasn't very convincing. "They gave their life to try and protect us, kid." Kai explained, ruffling Arin's hair in another attempt to soften the mood. Yet, somehow Arin felt worse in hearing the news, turning to look over at Lloyd with apologetic eyes. Lloyd wasn't facing them.

Sora was quick to pick up on the more solemn mood that Lloyd seemed to be slumped in, not being as attentive during training or flat out spacing out - which tended to cause multiple accidents. Sora knew she wasn't the only one who caught on either. During her training with Nya, the Water Ninja continued glancing back at Lloyd with frowned eyebrows and eyes swimming in worry. Nevertheless, they both saw how careful Arin was around Lloyd, and Sora half wondered if some sort of stress caused Lloyd to crack and snap; she's heard from a few sources that he could have a temper on him. Yet, Nya pointed out how Kai acted around Lloyd and claimed that something happened that wasn't Lloyd snapping at Arin. Something much bigger. "How can something bigger than Lloyd snapping at Arin make Lloyd so. . ." Sora fished for the right word. Distant didn't feel right. ". . .I don't know! Not-Lloyd and Arin so cautious?" Nya glanced over at Sora, lips pierced in a frown, before her eyes returned over to Lloyd, "I don't know, but something did happen. Not Lloyd snapping happen, yet something. I've only seen Lloyd this despondent since-" And Nya stopped, causing Sora's interest to peak. She waiting for Nya to continue, dutifully noticing the rise of suspicion mixed with realization that swirled in Nya's eyes. When Nya did not continue, though, Sora asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Since some big even that caused Lloyd to lose someone close to him, and he somehow still blames himself over all these years?" It was a rhetorical question, laced with some humorous sarcasm, as Sora went back to her work. She was fixing up her mech, trying to add some enhancements on it so it would run smoother. All the while she was also trying to channel her elemental power without Riyu's help. This allowed Riyu to be able to lay in the sun nearby while intensively watching Sora's work, ready to bounce onto his feet if Sora needed his help. Sora noticed the silence from Nya, yet ignored it at first as she tightened a screw. Yet, after the third, the silence got a tad awkward. Sora glanced back at Nya, who was staring at her with a baffled look; almost as though she had seen a ghost. "What. . .?" Sora glanced behind her, seeing if she had missed something. Yet, she only saw her mech and came to the conclusion that she didn't. "How did you?" Nya's posture straightened as Sora glanced back at her. Now Sora was positively confused, "How did I what?" And Nya would roll her wrists, acting like that had carried the answer to Sora's question. It didn't and Sora was left just puzzled. Yet Nya seemed to get the hint that, maybe, Sora didn't know what she was talking about and happened to just take a rather accurate jab in the dark with her rhetorical question. As for Nya shook her head, clearing the baffled look on her face, before actually waving off Sora's puzzled look this time. "Nothing, nothing. I just thought-" And again, Nya wouldn't finish her sentence as her eyes drifted back to Lloyd. Sora would notice as she rubbed her neck, her eyebrows frowning more so than before, and a frown tugging deeper on her lips.

"I LEFT YOU GUYS ALONE FOR ONLY A SECOND!" Kai's shouting filled the court yard as Sora, Arin, Wyldfyre, and Riyu stood away from the gigantic hole in Monastery wall. Kai had gone inside only a a few minutes before a merge portal had appeared right above the Monetary; which both frightened and confused the four, seeing as Lloyd had used the dragon cores a few weeks ago! "It wasn't us!" Arin started, instantly trusting his hands up in the same way a cop would ask you to. Kai gawked at the four before rushing down the Monastery steps as Zane peaked door behind him, confused. Sora was quick to add to Arin's plea for innocence, yet she was cut off by Wyldfyre. "This was not our faults!" Wyldfyre crossed her arms, "Someone just fell out of the sky, crashed, and broke the wall! It was not me this time." Sora resorted just to agreeing with the two at this point. Kai groaned, and Sora wondered if it was out of laziness (for not wanting to deal with another broken Monastery wall) or out of 'I'm going to be killed for leaving you all alone!'. Either way he rushed past the four and over to the wall, but to Riyu's concerned growls, to check out the damage. He drew his sword just encase. "Fell out of the sky? But Lloyd should have stopped the rifts from reopening." Zane said as he walked over to Arin's left, staring at the rubble with confusion before he began to analyze the rubble as Kai began to carefully climb onto of it. "That's what I thought!" Arin shouted, thrusting his hands out at the crashed wall, "but then someone just- FELL FROM THE SKY!" Sora would add, "While being spit out of a rift. Though it disappeared after they got spat out." "Again, none of this was Wyldfyre's fault." Wyldfyre stated again, nodding in agreement to her own statement as though to add value to it. Nya didn't seem too amused as she rushed out with Lloyd to the hole in the wall and the proclamations of rifts and people falling out of them. Kai swore he was getting a headache from listening to Arin, Sora, and Wyldfyre explaining the situation again; not from their voices, yet from the sheer annoyance that these rifts were causing trouble again. Especially when they had all thought that they were taken care of. And just as he thought life was getting back to normal, or as normal as life after the Merge could get, life slaps him in the face. Again! Thanks life, you're really helpful. Yet Kai's sour thoughts towards life didn't stop him from checking the rubble and coming to a quick stop after he noticed a familiar gi lying on top of the white stone. His body froze at an instant, the grip on the Monetary wall tightened, both out of fear and unknowing how to process who laid in front of him. "Lloyd-" Kai called into the flurry of voices that tried to figure out what had happened. Gaining no response from Lloyd at first, Kai tried calling him again despite not being able to tear his eyes away from the person. Finally, "LLOYD!" "What?!" Lloyd shouted back to Kai, turning to face the Fire Master both confused and more aggressive than he intended. Though his stance quickly softened as he noticed Kai's face: pale white. A beat. Lloyd gingerly, yet with as much confidence as he could muster, walked over to Kai and where he stood on the rubble. As he approached behind him, Lloyd called out again: "Kai?" Yet the only response he gained was a shaking hand that Kai pointed towards the rubble. Concerned, and with adrenaline now rushing through his blood like crazy (the held silence from the others not helping his nerves at all) Lloyd climbed upon the rubble to come face to face with a haunting face. In an instant, it felt like Lloyd's world was turned upside down as his eyes flickered over every detail of the familiar body that was no longer mangled or torn, no longer gruesomely defiled in the most repulsive way.

Lloyd could still remember how their limbs hung on like strings, or were disconnected entirely. How their blood stained the concrete road blacker than it had been, how the rotting smell filled the streets before the war had ended and they were safe to burry their friend. The details rushed back to Lloyd quicker than he wanted; more graphic than Lloyd remembered it being. The shock, horror, terror, slight disgust all made him recoil away from the stones wall; it forced him to completely turn his back and cup his mouth in fear of puking. His eyes were wide, his pupils shrunk as he tried to get those horrible, god awful memories out of his mind. The smell he remembered that coated the streets hit him, causing him to hunch over. He knew this was all in his head, old trauma resurfacing to bite him in the ass for never fully recovering from that scene. He could hear the voices, panicked and just as disturbed (mostly from the original Ninja) when they realized who laid in the rubble. Lloyd distantly felt a hand on his back, but his mind swirled and circled as he felt like his gut had been punched. "What's going on? What's happening?" Arin panic sounded so far to Lloyd, and Arin seemed further when Lloyd turned to look at his student. Arin grew fearful as he saw the detailed horror on Lloyd. Nya was trying to calm the situation. Zane was examining the body, trying to make sense of what was happening. He first ran a diagnostic and the only words Lloyd picked up were "Alive", "Breathing", "Vital". They weren't mangled and torn and tattered, they breathed and were whole and alive. That was a wild concept to Lloyd, caused his knees to buckle. His hand slid down roughly on the Monastery wall as he crashed to his knees. He was trying to keep the tears from spilling over, hiccupping escaping his throat as he choked back sobs. "Can someone explain to use what's going on?!" Sora shouted as Lloyd balled his hand into a fist against the Monastery. Sora sounded distressed, Lloyd couldn't blame her. He couldn't blame any of the new students for how they felt at the moment, after all this was slowly turning into a shitshow of emotions. Lloyd could feel Nya trying to snap him out of his engrossing thoughts yet the felt all consuming; It's like Lloyd felt everything all at once and yet, somehow, nothing at the same time. He blanked out at the explanation the students were given. He blanked out for a while. He wasn't sure when someone had managed to move him, yet he now sat in the living room of the Monastery with his fists clenching at his pants and this sickening feeling still in his stomach. How can you possibly explain that the fact that someone who had died, gave their life, to protect something greater than them (yet somehow also meaningless after they gave their life) to students who hadn't heard of them before? Lloyd moved his hand to cup his mouth, trying to control his breathing as his eyes zooned out on the floor. His knee bounced now without the weight of his arm. He could hear Nya next to him trying to explain the seemingly impossible to the three students: "A long. . . long, time ago, during one of our last fights with Lord Garmadon, after Harumi had resurrected him, we were almost cornered." Nya explained, "Well, we had been running from their joint forces for a while, taking refugee in abandoned building of Ninjago, yet this time we had no were to truly run. I suggested we split up, confuse Lord Garmadon and Harumi and Lloyd said we needed to all stick together." Nya would pause, allowing Lloyd to notice how she had rambled a little and how Kai had to place a hand on her shoulder. There was a silent nod that was shared from Kai to Nya, something to reassure her. Nya took a deep breath before she continued, "To make a long story short, the Ninja you saw crashing through the wall was the Purple Ninja, Master of Crystals. . . (y/n). "They had, despite much protest, said they would ward off Garmadon and give us a chance to escape; promised that they would meet us back at the base-"

"Garmadon tore her to pieces." The growl in Lloyd's voice didn't go unmissed as he interrupted Nya. His hand pulled down from his mouth, pulling at his skin a little before he rubbed his neck. "Left her to die rotting on the street, limbs hanging on by threads. . ." His statement was followed by silence, stunned if not horrified silence. Lloyd didn't look up at the three students, who sat or stood nearby. He couldn't bare to catch their eyes, to catch the horror that their mind was crafting after the vague description that Lloyd left hanging in the air. The silence was thick, thicker than Lloyd would have wished. "But... but they seemed.. fine?" Arin choked out, trying to get some sort of positivity back into the room; or at least to get some people to start looking on the bright side. Despite the gruesome topic. "We don't know how." Nya answered, shaking her head. "The best explanation would be that she was fixed when their soul moved on to the Departed Realm? But we haven't seen much trace of that realm in the merged... nor have we seen many traces of other realms for souls, like the Cursed Realm." "Yes, and it is rather odd that she would appear now." Zane walked into the room, cleaning his hands with a cleaning cloth. Attention snapped to him in a unsettling way (from his standards) yet he guessed it was just worry for the Ninja he had just been taking care of. "Especially after Lloyd stopped the MergeQuake. We can only hope that means that the Realms are settling into their new place, and returning people to where they're meant to be. Yet, that would not explain how (y/n) managed to resurrect." Zane noticed how Lloyd didn't look in his direction when he spoke, yet he couldn't blame Lloyd, not after all they've been through. Not after all he's been through; Especially since he was the closest to (y/n). "Well, the only thing we can do now is just wait for them to wake up, yeah?" Sora pipped up after a moment and she would receive a nod from Zane. She made sure to think on her next words, as well as her tone, before she crossed her arms, "So then let's go do something! I'm sure your friend wouldn't want to wake up after being dead for so long to see you all depressed!" "OH!" Arin pipped up instantly. "I have just the thing!"

The smell of some sort of bread was the first thing that came to mind, the second would be the warmth of a weighted cover that was tossed up to my shoulders, and the third would be the softness of the pillow at my head and the mattress under me. The warm and softness coaxed me back to sleep, yet my mind made it feel as though I had been asleep for decades. Decades. A soft murmur escaped my mouth as I rolled onto my side, my brain slowly registering the sounds that echoed from where I laid. The sound of birds nearby, the clattering of pans, the sound of laughter and chatter and talking; Feet on wood floors and sliding doors. The smell of different ingredients mixing with the smell of baking bread or maybe pie. It was like the sweetest dream. I grabbed at my covers and turned again on the mattress below me. It was so tempting to go back to sleep, to let the soft, warm sounds bring me to a dream where I was with everyone again. That was until I had fully registered what was happening. With a quick motion I shoved the blanket off of me, sitting up, and looking around feverously. I stared at the room in front of me, all too familiar and all too haunting. My hands had a mind of their own at they first touched the sheets under me, then my cheeks and face, and slowly my whole body as I began to register something: I was. . . alive? How was this possible? Hadn't I died, oh I don't remember, a few years ago? This shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't-. Thoughts circled around my mind like a storm that could not be tamed, panicked and frightened, terrified and horrific. I tried to remember what I could not, at the time, and my only last thoughts were those of the moments before I had died. The feeling of my bones, ligaments, tendons, muscles all pulling apart are screams ripped out of my throat in a piercing way that still haunting me. The tears that streamed down my cheeks, the pain; oh the unbearable pain, all suffered to make sure that everyone else could hopefully see another day. So Lloyd could see another day. I raised my hand, feeling my damp cheeks. I didn't even realize I had been crying, and I frowned my eyebrows as I couldn't understand whether it was because the memories or the confusion. And I couldn't help but sit on the bed, my bed, as I reeled in all that was happening. I was alive, I was back. Yet was everyone else here? What had happened after I died? Did the resistance work? Is Ninjago City back to how it had been? Is- The thoughts brought me onto my feet and tugged at my gi, taking in a shaky breath as I felt it. My feet guided themselves, my mind in a foggy trance, to the door and out the room, down the hallway of the Monetary while following the sounds of voices and laughter. I was led to the kitchen, were I would stand at the door and look in at the scene: Lloyd, Nya, Zane, Kai, and four people I didn't know; three kids, one frog guy. They all were making Pies, from what I could tell, and they were laughing and smiling and joking. Kai had flicked flour at Nya, who sneezed and glared playfully at Kai. Zane was putting pies into the stove, helping as the kid with pink hair read a book out loud. Lloyd with a kid in orange stood at a counter nearby, seemingly racing to make the pie that the pink-haired kid was shouting. The frog guy stood nearby. I didn't noticed as tears flowed back down my cheeks as I stared at the scene, my mouth slightly agape. Everything seemed so peaceful, so right. I could only guess Jay was in his room changing because there was a massive pile of flour on the floor and on Kai and Lloyd. Cole probably in the bathroom from having eaten too many of the sweets, with all the empty pie tins that laid on the table. Nya was the first to notice me, she was about to throw water at Kai yet paused as her eyes caught a glimpse of me and looked back. I could see the way her eyes widened, realization and relief and overwhelm wash her. All I could give her in response was a small smile, a weak bit of laughter.

There was a brief moment were we just stared at each other, and the next thing I knew Nya had rushed away from her spot and enveloped me in a hug. And I couldn't help but hug her back, feeling tears form in her eyes as I choked on mine. "Oh fuck-" Kai mumbled, and I could only guess he had realized why Nya had not shot him with water and instead rushed towards the door. The room grew quiet, confused then realized, as attention darted over to Nya and I. Lloyd's eyes. Oh, his eyes. Despite the pain that rang through them, they way they scrunched and drew out lines on his face. Despite the way he could only meet my eyes for a few seconds at a time. Despite the way they reddened, looking like he was about to cry. His eyes were still lovely as ever. I tightened my grip on Nya, "What did I miss?" I mumbled softly to the shocked silence. I let out something akin to a airy-chuckle. "Most recently, the ending of MerqeQuakes which occurred when all the realms were merged together into one big realm; before that,-" Zane began to respond yet he stopped himself. He couldn't help but smile, and I swear he was about to cry (if he could). "Actually, that does not matter. What matters now is that you're back... and awake." Nya slowly let go of me, I could feel as she tried to break from my grip and I slowly loosened her. She was smiling, yet she was crying; choking on her own tears. I couldn't help but give Nya one last reassuring squeeze before I slowly moved around her and towards Lloyd. The silence seemed thicker as I reached Lloyd, his hesitance more noticeable as his brows thickened and frowned. A thin frown spread across my lips, I knew what this was about (that much didn't take me being alive for years to know). "Lloyd I-" My voice felt weak as I started, reaching out to Lloyd with my hand yet stopping. I balled it into a fist, seeing Lloyd turn away from me, and slowly dropped my arm back to my side. What words could you say to someone who you betrayed? Nevertheless someone like Lloyd, who's been through so much and the last thing he wanted (I knew) was to see my body on the concrete floor. Blood staining the road. Limps ripped apart by his father. I knew that so much that my last thoughts had been about Lloyd had how he would react when he saw the scene. My mouth twitched as I stood there, next to Lloyd, in silence as my head fell. Sorry was not good enough, it would never be good enough; no apology would be good enough to start trying to make up for the time I had missed. For lying, as I knew that I wouldn't meet them back up. For everything. For leaving him alone and making him bear the world without me for so many years. For not being there for him for whatever he had to go through while I was gone; it had aged him so, I could see the aged pain in his eyes. It would never feel enough. "I'm-" And yet, somehow Lloyd turned to face me. And somehow, he came to embrace me, hugging me tightly as though he were afraid I would die again. And somehow, he managed to be near me after everything I had done. And somehow, I had a feeling, we would slowly get through this. Slowly, I wrapped Lloyd in a hug and gripped onto his gi, just as tightly. I buried my face into his shoulder as he did the same and we just stood there and hugged tightly. And everything felt right, even if it was for a brief moment. Everything felt like it had and how it should here in the Monastery, with Lloyd: It felt like home.

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[hellishjoel]

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” 

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert  on his toes. 

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else. 

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city.  Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another. 

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive. 

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies. 

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable. 

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse. 

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates. 

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from  death, they sent you. 

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die. 

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.” 

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter. 

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down. 

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies. 

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. 

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today. 

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed,  despite running the same territory. 

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since. 

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine. 

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes. 

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past. 

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists. 

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like. 

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled. 

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home. 

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans.  You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert. 

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you. 

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you. 

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed. 

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you? 

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water. 

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing. 

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it. 

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him. 

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.  

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes.  You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down. 

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers. 

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice. 

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief. 

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem. 

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed. 

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close. 

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers. 

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.” 

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face. 

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?” 

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it. 

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. 

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears. 

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his. 

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield. 

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner. 

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you.  So you let him. 

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked. 

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt. 

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face. 

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful. 

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk. 

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer. 

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst. 

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.” 

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him. 

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring. 

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?” 

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers. 

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion. 

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more. 

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home. 

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion. 

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach.  Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next. 

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses. 

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury. 

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again. 

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head. 

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think. 

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms. 

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice. 

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!” 

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation. 

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do. 

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side. 

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace. 

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week. 

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle. 

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.” 

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.” 

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs. 

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.  

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too. 

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again. 

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair. 

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again,  lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him.  “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?” 

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face. 

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long. 

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.” 

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”  

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it. 

---

here's my masterlist!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

[wren-writes-things]

Let's see... 1, 9, 12, 13 for the fandom ask games? :)

Oh hey Pixel! Thanks for asking.

OTP? 

Probably Sasharcy (of course in the context of Sashannarcy). I absolutely adore all variants of the Calamity Trio but I just tend to drift towards them. My guess is that the personality contrast, and possibly just how much they both need to grow and forgive each other. I don't know it just intrigues me.

I also really like platonic Zelink from the BotW/TotK iteration.

9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!

Hmm... Pixel go read your own fanfic! Joking, probably

And I Know I Kissed You Before (But I Didn't Do It Right) - BearerOfTheBitterMoon (liminal-lesbian on here) - Okay I could put all of Mara's fanfics on here. Her writing style and story concepts are just amazing. But we'd be here all day, so we're not going to do that. This one specifically though, was just such an emotional rollercoaster (without leaving with permanent emotional trauma, ex: The Three Body Problem). It's very sweet, it's very sad and it all just feels so real. If that makes any sense

A Witch In Wartwood - Disect - I haven't finished the sequel fanfic yet, but I love this story. It had a very creative take on a Swap AU, and it did a really good job at capturing the essence of the original show while also completely being it's own thing.

Pinpoint - i'm-at-my-limit - Okay, I need to get caught up on this one, because I love the concept and I find it's characterization really interesting but I'm also behind by like two chapters because I wasn't reading as much for a while.

Across The Seven Seas - Heart_Wit_Strength - Did I successfully trick you into thinking I wasn't going to say this? Did it work? Seriously though this is one of those fanfics that I read, immediately reread and proceeded to think about for the next three days. I actually have fan art of it that I need to complete some day. I don't know what you did, but you succeeded at it.

Then there's this one fanfic about Sasha that I really like, but I cannot find it or remember what it is called.

(I have quite a few others that I really liked, these are just the four that were in my brain apparently)

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

So the same week that I created Daren, I also created what I call that Devil in the Details AU. Which is one of those AUs where it could be angsty, but I decided it was way funnier to write absurd shenanigans.

Basically Marcy, a lonely and aimless college student, opens a music box (gifted to her by her academic mentor, Andrias) and ends up with Darcy as the devil on her shoulder. Then Anne and Sasha are sent by heaven to prevent her from becoming corrupted and taken over by them.  

Of course, it’s a massive train wreck. 

Darcy is trying to convince Marcy that she should trust them. But because Sasha and Anne are almost always there they can only accomplish this through underhanded life coaching. (Though when Sasha and Anne aren’t there it’s manipulation is more direct).

Sasha is a nearly fallen angel who has taken to giving beneficial but selfish advice and also physically attacking any devils that she ends up paired with. 

Anne is just trying to get Sasha back on the right path and to find a way to get rid of Darcy so Marcy can go back to a normal life.

Then Marcy who was incredibly lonely finally has a social life and people that she can get engaged in her interests. So she’s convinced this is a great thing and is scheming to make it permanent. 

And from this queue all of the comedic shenanigans that could possibly come out of it. But also Anne and Sasha helping guide Marcy into making a life for herself that she really wants rather than what everyone kept telling her she wanted. While Darcy of course tries to counteract that because they assume she searching for a very specific type of success and do not understand any other idea.

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day?

So ironically the answer here is also Sasharcy. I’m not sure how this happened but we have two Sashanne centric AUs (TOH and BotW) and two Marcanne centric ones (Witch Marcy and also BotW). But none of them have focused on Sasha and Marcy specifically (aside from post breakup in the Witch Marcy AU). It's a really interesting occurrence

[trixie-troubleby]

I saw you wanted prompts so here i am.

I've envisioned them as Sportarobbie but ofc you're free to change that if you wanna (i chose these bc i had some cute ideas for these two options too and i wanna tell you but i won't rn to not influence you too much, i will probably once i reblog your writing tho)

Kinda angsty option: 6. "You can't die. Please don't die."

More random option: 87. "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

maybe I’ll do the second one later sometime! For now enjoy some very minor angst! Thanks for the request!!

It was an accident. Robbie needed to stress that it was an accident. He hadn’t meant to– he would never mean to– He let out a series of swears as he rushed over to where the hero was laying unmoving, dropping his latest invention on the way. It wasn’t supposed to do this, this wasn’t supposed to–

He grabbed the hero’s wrist, which was somehow already cold. He tried to check for a pulse, but he was never very good at that sort of thing. “You can’t die.” He said, rolling his sleeves back and starting to press down on his chest. “Please don’t die.” He mumbled, keeping count of the beats in his head. “The kids will murder me–“ There wasn’t a response, but he kept going. “You can’t–“ There was still so much he wanted to do. So many plans to try, so many nicknames to give. “Please–“ His voice cracked. Some part of his mind thought this was embarrassing, the rest didn’t care.

He thought of all the time he’d spent with Sportacus. Every sly look or wink. The small nods and words the kids didn’t notice. The touches, rare and fleeting but treasured all the same. The exasperated smile. The way the hero said his name. All of it, overwhelming him. “You can’t die. I love you.” He paused beating on the man’s chest, only to move to his mouth. He opened the hero’s mouth with his hands, pressing his lips to Sportacus’ and blowing in air.

“Robbie?” Sportacus’ voice came from decidedly not where his body was.

Robbie jolted back from the limp body. He looked from the body to the standing Sportacus with a furrowed brow. “What the fuck?” He demanded, voice barely a squeak.

“It wasn’t real! It wasn’t real! I’m sorry! We’re sorry!” Pixel sprinted towards them, some of the other kids in tow. “The Sportacus was a hologram I’ve been working on.” He held up a remote, pressing a button and the hologram dissipated.

Robbie looked up to where the real Sportacus was standing, dumbfounded. Robbie’s face was burning. He felt like an idiot.

“We– we thought if you saw your schemes could be dangerous–“ Stephanie stumbled through her words.

“We thought you’d mess with us less! We didn’t realize–“ Trixie added.

“Kids. That was not an okay thing to do.” Sportacus said, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a gentle frown on his face, one that screamed ‘not mad just disappointed.’ Robbie almost felt bad for the kids. “You did not have my consent to have an image of me walking around. More than that, this was clearly very upsetting to Robbie. I know his pranks are not always fun, but he is not a bad man. And even if he was, it would not be okay to trick him into thinking he’d killed me.” Sportacus said.

Robbie swallowed. The kids’ eyes all turned to him, wide and apologetic and terrible. “I’m fine.” He mumbled, looking away from them. “Don’t worry about me.” He pushed himself up off the ground. Looking at the place on the concrete where moments before he’d been giving CPR to a hologram.

“Kids. I need to speak to Robbie alone for a bit.” Sportacus said. Some of the kids looked ready to argue, but a look from Sportacus told them how welcome that was. They scurried off, offering rushed apologies to Robbie.

Once they were all out of earshot, Sportacus walked over to Robbie, putting a steadying hand on his arm. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“That depends.” Robbie grimaced. “How much did you see?”

“I uh… saw and heard. Enough.” Sportacus said, hesitatingly, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“Right.” Robbie’s eyes flickered away from the fists. “Then in that case, I think I oughta go start packing.”

“Packing?” Sportacus asked, hand out in a flash, grabbing Robbie’s arm.

“No way in hell am I staying here when you’ve heard me make a complete fool of myself.” Robbie responded, looking down at the white knuckled grip on his arm. He shook the hand off his arm. Robbie started back towards his lair, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his shoulders in defense as he walked.

“Did you mean it?” Sportacus’ voice cut through the air with an enviable ease.

He didn’t have to respond. He shouldn’t have responded. He should’ve kept walking. He paused. “Did I mean what?” He asked, brow quirked as he glanced behind him.

“What you said?” Sportacus asked. “The last things you said.” He added. If Robbie didn’t know better, he would say that Sportacus looked nervous. “That you love me.” He cleared his throat.

”You uh– misheard me.” Robbie lied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say that.”

“I heard you.” A small smile on the hero’s face.

“No, you didn’t!” Robbie insisted, feeling his face flush.

“I think I did.” Sportacus had the audacity to laugh. Robbie decided he would kill him for real. This was just cruel and unusual and–

Sportacus kissed him. A gentle innocent pressing of lips. He pulled away after the shortest time, looking up to Robbie with a warm grin on his face. “Thank you for trying to save me.”

“You’re uh– welcome?” Robbie cleared his throat.

“Can I kiss you again, or did I really mishear you?” The hero wore a quirked brow and a smug smile.

Robbie narrowed his eyes. “Watch it. Next time I’ll let you die.” Sportacus laughed, leaning up to kiss him again.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Idk if I ever told you, but my wife and I knew you on Ao3 first 😅

First time I found your blog on here, I literally got so excited and shouted across our apartment “babe I found Lacrimosa’s tumblr!! By accident!!”

Needless to say, you’re one of our favourite writers. We love reading your fics. Any time we go looking for one and see Lacrimosa wrote it, it’s an immediate read

What's up with y'all tryna make me cry happy tears today, it's summer I can't drink enough to fill the reserves back up lmao.

But jokes aside, thank u so much. You've told me how you found me before but the details are a new addition and idk if I've gotten so much serotonin out of a few pixels before omg.

Thank you for enjoying my works and especially thank you for telling me! Y'all actually don't understand how much that means to me.

P.S. I'm currently working on two WIPs and the hell that is the bridge for the longfic cuz I'm in a mood again but I can't quite decide which one to focus on primarily rn (probably gonna throw in a poll some time). They are gonna be the tragic angsty shit again though, it's my trademark atp lmao

[mooneytried]

HIII SO i made the Album and Track names for Ellie, RHM and Totally Quality Content! Take your time to read and I hope u enjoy :D

Ellie

Album 1: Dried Up Petals

While this album was short (in terms of tracks), it was widely popular. It was praised for Rose's vocals and personality.

1. Don't Call Me Yours! (single)

2. Deep Red Lipstick (single)

3. Metallic Purple

4. Late Night Sky

5. Ruined

6. Pretty? (Single)

7. I'm In Too Deep

Album 2 : A Shiny Disaster

Ellie Rose's second album was a big hit. It explored the themes of Dried Up Petals in a more deep and compelling way while exploring new ones. The main appeal of A Shiny Disaster is the  intense fun and heartache is has.

1. Red Velvet Cake

2. Made Out Of Shiny Plastic

3. Didn't Say Anything (single)

4.Glittery Eyeshadow

5. Truth Or Dare?

6. The Epitome Of Fame (single)

7. Rulebook

8. A Shiny Disaster (single)

9. Charred Boquet Of Flowers

10. Could You?

11. Star-Studded Downfall (bonus track)

Album 3 : Crystal Like Heart

Crystal Like Heart was eclectic. Unlike Rose's two previous album, her third studion album had a different yet similar vibe. Many of the songs leaned into many directions thematically and sonically but still had a feel that made it cohesive.

1. That's Really Harsh

2. Famed Beauty (single)

3. Pixelated

4. Red, Green and Blue

5. Cherry Red Paint

6. Cursive (single)

7. Pink Hearts Around My Name

8. Bubblegum Flavor

9. That's Why I Love You

10. Crystal Like Heart (single)

11. You See More

12. First In Line

13. Dark Blue

Right Hand Man

album 1: Sunset Glow

This album was Right Hand Man's introduction. It's been critically acclaimed for being charming and meaningful.

1. Burning Sensation

2. Rough Times (single)

3. Sunglasses (single)

4. Frozen Soul

5. Grounded

6. Stolen

7. Do Not

8. Flaming Memory

9. Ablaze

10. The Last Thing You Said (single)

11. Last Ditch Effort (bonus track)

Album 2: Let it Fall

Right Hand Man's second album. RHM brought in a new writer (now his husband), Reginald Copperbottom to work on the songs (even being the sole writer of some of the tracks). The general consensus is that the emotions in this album were more real and Copperbottom's lyricism is very expressive.

1. Let's Start Over

2. Through An Artist's Eyes (single)

3. Words

4. We're Something (single)

5. They Call Him Heartless

6. You Know

7. Let It Fall

8. But I Didn't

9. Deadly Lie

10. I Want Nothing At All (single)

11. Intensely Vivid

12. Shatter My Heart

13. Too Much For A Guy

14. Cold (bonus track)

Totally Quality Content

EP 1: A Rollercoaster That Never Ends

The band's first output. They had started out in college and produced their own EP. They eventually signed a record deal and some of the songs on their EP made their way to their first studio album. The EP showed great promise, with a lively yet angsty premise.

1. Peaked In High School

2. The Tale Of A Blond Prince

3. I Wore Your Jacket To Science Class

4. Sure As Hell (That I Know)

5. Tragic End To Our Fable

Album 1: Empty Jar Feeling

TQC's first studio album. Much of their sound and energy was derived from A Rollercoaster That Never Ends but with better production and more storyline focused songs. It was praised for telling relatable stories.

1. The Guitar In The Corner

2. Smile Along (single)

3. I Still Have Your Playlist Saved

4. Broken Prodigy (single)

5. The Last One Standing

6. Courtesy Of The Host

7. The Message You Posted On The Freedom Wall

8.  Sure As Hell (That I Know)

9. The Tale Of A Blond Prince (single)

10. Watched From The Wings

11. Blue Pen (bonus track)

12. Headphones And A Jacket (bonus track)

EP 2 : The Performers Bow

TQC's second EP. They are currently working on their second studio album and it is speculated that some of the songs in this EP will appear in the album (like what was done for Empty Jar Feeling.)

1. Whiteboard Scribbles

2. Can't See To See Us

3. The Ballad Of A Unsung Hero

4. Well Why Won't You?

[hazely-sims]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @simstryingtheirbestok and @elvgreen - thank you so much! I love talking about myself hahahaha

I have no idea who's done this or been tagged but I'll tag a bunch of people. Please feel free to ignore me for literally any reason! 15 is so many ahhhh I already feel sorry

@pixelevia, @tealplumbobs, @treason-and-plot, @dandylion240, @simssaga, @monets-pixels, @twitchesandtics, @nikkeisimmer, @bioniczombie, @aisquaredchoco, @faeriefrolic, @echoweaver, @cas-sims, @happy-lemon, and @berrydreamland

are you named after anyone? My middle name is my great-grandmother's name, but spelled differently for some reason.

when was the last time you cried? Just now I inhaled my tea and coughed so hard I cried lmao

do you have kids? Nope

do you use sarcasm a lot? I don't think so. I try to only use it when it's really obvious that I'm being sarcastic. Honestly I feel like sarcasm is often unhelpful or even harmful because the actual thing that's true never gets said, so I usually respond to any and all comments with a serious answer by default. People make fun of me but I'd rather be the idiot who didn't get the sarcasm than the jerk who laughed when you weren't joking.

what sports do you play/have you played? I am so, so bad at sports, but I did play recreational soccer for a few years around the age of 9. I would not do it again.

what’s the first thing you notice about other people? What they look like? I feel like there's not just one thing. Everyone has different distinctive features, right?

scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I don't necessarily mind if a good story has a sad ending, but I hate scary movies. Horror is a really wide genre and there are many types of it that I can appreciate and even enjoy, but I don't like movies/games/etc. that are just scary for the sake of being scary. I do not find being scared entertaining at all.

any special talents? I play the violin but I don't know if it's a 'special talent' since it's kind of my job? I'm pretty good at singing though even though I've never had training.

where were you born? I'm from... Canada.

what are your hobbies? I mean, the Sims 3, obviously. I try to have that be my only hobby honestly because I only have so much time, but recently some of you internet nerds got me watching kpop videos... one deep, long rabbithole later and I'm obsessed with these dorks (exclusively) but also still watching other performances (by groups I do not care about) and a bunch of angsty Korean BL dramas. Who am I.

do you have any pets? Yes, I have a grey and white cat who is perfect in every way

wow tall are you? 5′2''

fav subject in school? English, and any performance or pop culture classes.

dream job? I also don't really believe in dream "jobs" but if I could get paid an actual livable wage with the job I have (I teach English) then that would come close. But I also love performing with other people so acting or music would also be a dream job if it didn't also have to be, like, a job.

eye colour? Hazel... 👀

[yakkolicious-writing]

The Obituary

"Graveyard at Night" by Rennett Stowe, Modifications: Resized to 3000x1055 pixels is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Fandom: Animaniacs Central Relationship: Yakko, Dot, & Wakko Warner Wordcount: 2,612 words Summary: Yakko knew something was off about today, and he was right. Today, a certain "special friend" of the Warners, one Yakko didn't like to think about, made his way into the morning paper, forcing Yakko to confront his regrets with how he dealt with the situation. With Dot and Wakko's love and support, can Yakko realize that one mistake, no matter how severe, does not determine his worth as a person? Warnings: This story discusses death and uncomfortable implications of "Chairman of the Bored," a segment of Animaniacs 1993. Rating: T. Not suitable for younger audiences.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56754184

This is probably the single most angsty fic I've written. Lately I've been struggling to continue Animaniacs (I actually haven't seen the full series yet), but Chairman of the Bored is my single least favorite segment, mostly because of Pip Pumphandle, the special friend the Warners have in that episode. If you haven't seen Chairman of the Bored yet... brace yourself. It's something, to say the least. I wrote this fic to give myself some closure so I can get back to watching the show. I hope you enjoy this!

There was something off about today. Yakko didn’t know what it was, but he could just tell something was off. Everything seemed normal in Burbank today: the morning sky was a peaceful light blue, the sun shone just as brightly as it always did, the birds sang happily, and the Warner Bros. staff were just as busy as ever. Surely anyone else would’ve said this was a normal day. If the day seemed so normal though, then why did Yakko feel like something strange was going to happen?

Yakko jumped out of the tower and grabbed the morning newspaper. Yakko liked to stay informed, and his way of doing that was reading newspapers. Maybe it was a little old-fashioned, but he liked the way the papers felt in his hands, and seeing the words in print made them easier for him to take in. Yakko smiled at his unread paper before jumping back up to the water tower and opening the door. He saw Wakko and Dot sitting at the kitchen table. Wakko was busy scarfing down a copious number of grapes, while Dot adjusted the cute little yellow flower in her ears: normal sibling stuff. Yakko closed the door behind him and grinned at the paper.

“Morning paper!” Yakko exclaimed in a singsong voice.

“Yeah yeah,” Dot said, “you got your newspaper.”

“Sis, it’s important to keep up with world events and the news,” Yakko explained, “it keeps ya smart, and knowledge is power.”

“But it’s so depressing!” Wakko whined.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Yakko replied, “but sometimes there’s something sweet in here! Or something really satisfying.”

“Satisfying.” As Yakko said that, he felt his stomach drop. Why? It was just a word. What was his body trying to tell him? Should he not have said that? Was something satisfying going to happen? Was something unsatisfying going to happen? There were so many things that it could be that it just left Yakko confused and worried. This day was shaping up to be anything but normal, and not in the “having fun with his siblings” kind of way.

Yakko sighed and opened the newspaper. As he flipped through the black-and-white pages, he saw the usual stuff: political news, the weather, sports coverage, comics with art styles that screamed that they’ve been going for a while, and the daily crossword puzzle, Yakko’s favorite. Yakko took a moment to examine the crossword and its clues for a moment, his tail wagging as he did so. Dot looked over at Yakko, saw his tail wagging, and giggled.

“Aw, does Yakko love his crosswords?” Dot asked.

Yakko promptly grabbed his tail and only let go when he was certain it had stopped wagging, not saying a word to Dot. Then, he resumed looking through the newspaper. Eventually, Yakko saw the obituaries. Obituaries, though not as gloomy as the political news, were still quite depressing. Usually, Yakko would skim through the obituaries with a frown before moving onto something else, just so he could have the knowledge, and that’s what he tried to do today. Yakko looked at the obituaries and saw if there was anything interesting. At first, everything seemed normal: a seventy-eight-year-old man who died of a heart attack, a ninety-year-old woman who passed peacefully in her sleep, a forty-two-year-old father who died of cancer. Yakko didn’t know any of these people, but they seemed like fine people who were very loved, and he felt sorry for their loved ones. This is why the obituaries were so gloomy: it was always the better people who ended up on those pages. Sometimes someone who was a bit more morally dubious ended up on the pages, but it wasn’t too common.

As Yakko read through the obituaries, he saw something unusually interesting. A sixty-three-year-old man was hit by a bus. His eyes bulged, alerting Wakko and Dot.

“What did you find, Yakko?” Dot asked.

“This is the most interesting obituary I’ve read in a while,” Yakko began, “this old guy got hit by a bus!”

“Whoa!” Wakko said.

“Is there anything else?” Dot asked.

“Let me see,” Yakko replied.

Yakko began to read the obituary in more detail.

“He was hit by a bus on July 15th,” he began, “he was known for his rich life experiences and his strong desire for human connection. Family members remember his stories about his many meetings with celebrities fondly for how they aided their sleep. In his spare time, he could be found socializing at parties and bonding with people over cheese balls.”

The Warners’ faces sunk. Now, Yakko knew why today felt so off. Yakko read the title of the obituary. It read “Pumphandle, Francis ‘Pip.’” He looked at the photograph next to the obituary, and there was Pip’s face. The same droopy eyelids, slightly wrinkled face, and bald spot on the top of his head as there was when the Warners first had the misfortune of meeting him. Wakko and Dot leaned over to read the newspaper, and they saw Pip’s photograph as well.

“Pip died?!” Wakko asked.

“Looks like it,” Yakko answered.

“He was so young!” Dot cried, “well, actually, not really, but still.”

“Whoever wrote this sounds like they couldn’t come up with a lot of nice things to say about him,” Wakko said.

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Wakko,” Yakko replied, “seriously, who would actually put that he ‘bonds with people over cheese balls’ in an obituary unless you had nothing really nice to say about him but don’t want to be mean? That’s like saying a cult leader had great people skills!”

The Warners smiled and laughed at Yakko’s joke and how ridiculous the obituary was. However, after a moment, Yakko’s smile faded into a frown and his laughter died. He looked away from his siblings as they hooted and hollered, Dot occasionally cackling like a witch on helium. Wakko and Dot didn’t seem to notice that Yakko stopped laughing, and when Yakko noticed that, he sighed. He handed the newspaper to Dot, who took it without hesitation, and sat crisscross on the sofa.

Yakko had a lot of feelings about the day they met Pip. To say that day was a good one for him and his siblings would be the worst lie ever told. Pip would not stop talking about the time he met Bob Barker, and he would do anything to finish his story. When the Warners tried to leave, Pip was on the bus they were on. When they got home, Pip was inside the water tower. The Warners got no sleep that night thanks to Pip. Pip even decided he would take part in their bedtime routine at the same time as the Warners. Why Pip thought that was a good idea is a mystery that Yakko will never know the answer to. What Yakko did know was that Pip decided to sit in the bathtub with him and Wakko, and when it was time for bed, Pip had claimed Wakko’s bed before Wakko could, forcing the brothers to share Yakko’s. The Warners didn’t do anything to Pip other than make sarcastic jokes at his expense: he wasn’t outright hostile to them in the way a lot of unscrupulous figures they met were. Even then, Pip was so determined to tell his story that he didn’t seem to care that the Warners didn’t like him. Pip eventually left, but the silence he left was so deafening that the Warners chased him down, begging for another story: they didn’t find him, much to Yakko’s relief looking back.

It was only after Pip had been gone for a few days that Yakko let what he did to him and his siblings sink in. Pip had basically stalked him and his siblings, got in the bath with him and Wakko, and stole Wakko’s bed all for a story that ended in Bob Barker eating a bologna and cheese ball sandwich. Yakko was horrified that he let this happen. The Warners didn’t have any trusted adults in their lives. The closest was Dr. Scratchansniff, but he could be a killjoy sometimes. Yakko wouldn’t dare tell Scratchansniff about Pip anyways: it would only tell him that he was a failure of an older brother. Without any trusted adults, Yakko was often seen as the guardian of the Warners. He didn’t like to be seen as a father figure, just a cool older brother, and Wakko and Dot helped to take care of him too some days, but as the oldest of the Warners, he felt it was his job to make sure the chaos that he and his siblings got into wasn’t too much for them. This was absolutely too much. By not hitting Pip with a mallet or crushing him with an anvil when he had the chance, Yakko put not only himself, but also his siblings in danger. Most days, Yakko tried not to think about it, but now, Pip was relevant again. He was gone, but he only recently died, meaning that Yakko had to think about Pip and their fateful meeting once more. He hated thinking about it. It was a cruel reminder that something needed to be done, but nothing was done. For Yakko, it made him feel like the worst person on the planet.

It was only when Dot realized she was holding the newspaper that she realized that Yakko moved. She stopped laughing and looked around the tower before seeing Yakko on the couch. She elbowed Wakko to get him to stop laughing, and he too looked at Yakko.

“What’s wrong, Yakko?” Wakko asked.

“Why’d you move?” Dot added.

“I’m thinking about when we met Pip,” Yakko said, “how he wouldn’t stop shaking our hands… we traded each other off… we tried to run away from him but he followed us home… he… he got in the bath with me and Wakko! He stole Wakko’s bed! And I did nothing about it!”

Wakko and Dot’s eyes switched focus between each other and Yakko as he ranted. Yakko’s eyes filled with tears, and his fists were clenched in balls of rage. Why did he let that happen? Why did he put his siblings in so much danger? How could he sleep at night? Yakko got up, stormed to his room, and slammed the door behind him. Wakko and Dot’s eyes shrunk when they heard the slam. They exchanged glances, but those glances were all they needed to know that they knew what they needed to do. They jumped out of their chairs and ran to Yakko’s room. They knocked incessantly, Wakko with both of his fists.

“Yakko, open the door!” Wakko cried.

“We’ll bust down your door if we have to,” Dot began, “and then we’ll replace it, because we love ya!”

Dot and Wakko only stopped knocking when they heard Yakko’s footsteps. Yakko opened the door. He looked a lot more tired than he did before he ran off. His eyelids drooped, as did his slightly reddened face. His frown looked plastered on, and it caused his entire face to sag. Wakko and Dot both gave Yakko their best puppy eyes.

“Can we come in?” Dot asked.

“Sure,” Yakko said, “why not.”

Yakko walked back into his room, Dot and Wakko not far behind. Yakko plopped onto his bed, grabbed his pillow, put it against his face, and began to scream into it. Wakko sat next to Yakko and patted his back gently. Dot stood up with her arms crossed.

“Jeez, Yakko, you’re a mess,” she said.

“Dot!” Wakko glared at his little sister.

“OK, OK, maybe that was a little mean,” Dot said, “I’m sorry, Yakko. It’s just… I’ve never seen you this upset before.”

Yakko lifted his head from the pillow and sniffled.

“I hate myself,” Yakko said.

“Don’t hate yourself, Yakko!” Wakko replied, “we’re not mad at you.”

“You should be,” Yakko began, “I’m supposed to be looking out for you guys. Of course, we’re all supposed to look out for one another, it’s what good siblings do, but… I shouldn’t have let him so close to us. I understand he wasn’t exactly a jerk in the same way a lot of the people we meet are, but there’s a point that shouldn’t be crossed, and Pip crossed that point and we did nothing about it. I did nothing about it…”

Dot put her hand on Yakko’s shoulder. He looked at her and sniffled.

“Yakko,” Dot explained, “we’re not mad at you. That was a long time ago. None of us knew what to do with Pip. He was just so… strange, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yakko replied.

“You know, I was mad at you in the moment when you swapped our hands out and made me listen to Pip,” Dot said, “but I don’t think I would’ve done anything differently than you, especially since I swapped myself out for Wakko.”

“Yeah, you did do that,” Wakko replied, “but I probably would’ve swapped myself for one of you two if I had to talk to him first. After eating all those cheese balls, that is.”

Dot, Wakko, and Yakko chuckled, Yakko wiping a tear from his eyes with his finger.

“I just… I just wish things went a little differently that day,” Yakko said.

“Pip drove us crazy, Yakko,” Dot replied, “when he finally left us alone, we wanted to hear more from him! For some reason!”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Yakko agreed, “but either way, we’ve got each other now, and Pip… well, considering what happened that one time we were in Sweden, I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

Wakko and Dot hugged Yakko as tightly as they could. Yakko smiled at each of them for a moment before wrapping his arms around them as well and closing his eyes. The Warners hugged each other for ten minutes straight until they decided they had enough.

“I think I’ve had enough news for one day,” Yakko said.

“Me too,” Wakko added, “all that thinking made me hungry.”

“But you just had a ton of grapes!” Dot replied.

“I know! I’m hungrier now!” Wakko explained.

“I’m a bit, uh, too shaken, right now, to uh, make breakfast or anything like that,” Yakko began, “so why don’t we get dressed up and go out for waffles or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Wakko answered.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Dot added.

Wakko and Dot ran out of Yakko’s room, and Yakko beamed. He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t change his feelings. If Yakko could make it so he and his siblings never met Pip Pumphandle, he’d do it in a heartbeat. However, that wasn’t the way the world worked. Life was full of experiences, some fun and others not so much. All that Yakko could do was be the best older brother he could be. He felt he wasn’t perfect by any means, but even after what had happened with Pip, Wakko and Dot still loved him dearly, and that was enough for him. Whether Yakko deserved forgiveness or not was something he wasn’t sure if he would ever know, but if Wakko and Dot felt he did, then that meant the world. Pip was gone now, but Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were still here, together, on the Warner Bros. movie lot, in the water tower, just the three of them. Now, they could enjoy some waffles together, and hopefully, Yakko could move on from the day he and his siblings had the misfortune of meeting Pip. It wouldn’t be easy, but with the two best younger siblings he could ask for by his side, Yakko knew that he had people to lean on.

[lowhangingfruit123]

The 100 March Season Unforgiving II

Alright lets go finally felt angsty enough to vent about that tub of lard who spoke such pure unrefined brainrot to my face. As before press the keep reading if you wish to know the full story (heh writing this like a clickbait journo) or just move along with your day.

Oh and the topic will be about communism, if you have faced such people before then you'll at least have a level of familiarity with the situation you'll read

How the conflict started has since been lost to me but I vividly remember the rest of the conversation when they had decided to commit to their vocal chords an answer I really found funny to this day. This begotten gutter muppet from new york, the epitome of the idiocracy firmly incased within the garish americana cultura. Spoke to me that "Stalin wasn't a dictator" and never had I ever had felt what I could only loosely describe as PSYCHIC DAMAGE when that fool uttered those words.

and from then on I get to tackle some intricate topics that ,sadly because of their pride in being an advocate for communism get quickly switched out so they don't look further bad.

Like for example capitalism birthed the usage of commercial use of computers, I highly doubt that a society that does not give a damn about what new sensation a common man could enjoy and would put that computer for something that serves a better purpose than an entertainment machine. I don't even think video games would exist either if it weren't for capitalism because of it's main purpose "to entertain people" under the assumption that "you're wasting valuable computer parts to waste time fiddling with funny pixels on the screen" screams inefficiency and waste of resources that the computer parts used to make the video game machine will probably get repurposed or have anything of scrap value taken away. The next topic that I wanted to expand upon before I was rudely switched out by that mongrel was the idea that without capitalism cellphones wouldn't exist, especially for something like in today's standards. Under the purview of a utilitarian outlook of a communist government, YOU having time to fiddle with games or tweet about how bad a certain politician is, is something that the commies find "inefficient" when you could be serving the greater purpose of working for the great country like in the mines or some factory with the funny green nets. That's for the former the ladder of which will just get you killed for the most part funny how that works.

I find it hilarious as well when they kept on thinking that capitalism will not exist because "we removed the root of all evil! M o n e y" when infact people will just resort to bartering, and thats how money started off as well coins infact.

they also claimed that communism is good for the environment and im like "??????" have you seen the emission charts about china? I swear UN is a waste of money.

and also crimes, because their ideal communism world doesn't have money, people wont steal stuff and I just kept laughing. It was refreshing to see someone from the server stepping in for me and speaking how "thats the dumbest thing i've ever heard" and this was before they saw "STALIN WASNT A DICTATOR" schtick. Good god they had no idea what kind of caliber the idiot they were talking to.

As if we were handpicked by the vice army general to use the premium graded caliber of idiot, depleted uranium, probably in this case it worked more either as depleted cranium or depleted brain cells.

and to answer why "--communism world doesn't have money, people wont steal stuff" is stupid, its because you are assuming people will not adhere to their human instincts, of greed and of jealousy.

after the convo was cut short because of how much the commie was getting lambasted by half the server at that point, that their friend from the mod team had to swoop in and be their knight in shining armor. Was funny because they recommended to them the negative XP song the one about women. Literally the song described that commie girl from new york word for word was hilarious knowing that their "FRIEND" recommended the song to them. The absolute obliviousness that dumb mod guy had to pick that song not knowing how much of a good insult song that was to them. the worst part is knowing that commie girl thought it was a good song because their friend recommended to them, and im like "nah he may have more braincells than you (which isn't hard since any is better than none) but he didn't have enough braincells to realize that he just off-handedly insulted you by recommending you this song."

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

A small set up to the next installment of My Best Friend’s Brother (Janus’s 100% Foolproof Five-Step Plan To Win Patton’s Heart)

Intended to be read as either a text conversation or notes written on a piece of paper idc

Minor warnings for caps lock and Remus being Remus

Winning Patton’s Heart

JAN’S FOOLPROOF PLAN TO WIN THE HEART OF ONE (1) ADORABLE PUFFBALL (PATTON)

that’s so much longer than jan’s title

WE SHOULD HAVE CODE NAMES!!! PATTON WILL BE MORALITY, V IS ANXIETY, JAN IS DECEIT, AND I’M DUKEY!

OH AND RO IS PRINCEY AND THE NERD IS LOGIC

we don’t need code names

OF COURSE WE NEED CODE NAMES! YOU NEED CODE NAMES WHEN CARRYING OUT COVERT OPS

1). Insert ourselves into his life

and how do you suggest we do that?

Easy. Princey and Logic are gone, we’ll simply take their place

IDENTITY THEFT!!!

2). One-on-one time

We need to establish that not only do we like him as a group, but each of us like him individually and he needs to like US individually

so i have to hang out with him and actually talk to him!?!? you know he sat on my lap for hours and i barely said two words to him that entire time!!!!

YOU SAID STUFF WHILE HE WAS THERE

not TO him though!!

You have to talk to him if you want to date him Virgil

:(

8===D

why are you like this

3). Prove we listen to him

meaning?

Do stuff he expresses that he enjoys, give him things he says he likes. We’re just trying to prove that we know stuff about him

WE COULD STALK HIM!

NO!

4). Increase physical touching and romantic subtext

ARE WE FUCKING HIM IN THIS ONE?

No

what's ‘romantic subtext’?

Doing couple-y things like giving him flowers or going through a tunnel of love together

are those even real?

DO SEWERS COUNT?

You know what I mean, and no, no sewers

:(

5). Grand gesture

This is where we get together

and what is this grand gesture

The grand gesture needs to be tailored to Patton and therefore cannot be planned until we learn more about him

EW YOU SOUND LIKE ROMAN

Well Roman appreciates romance and we’re trying to establish a romantic relationship with Patton

YOU’RE NOT USING THE CODE NAMES :(

you didn’t either

SHIT

~~~END~~~

Step 1 should be posted soon (it’s short, but it’s finished)

Taglist under the cut

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling @the-sunshine-dims @taylorxoxo22 @oatmealoatmealoatmealoatmealoatm @captain-gh0st @007ardra @fandomfan315 @sophiexteresa @smolemopotato @contemplativespectrum @xachery-apollo @sp4c3d-0ut @your-gay-enby-highness @sanderssides-angst @idont-freaking-know @mavenmush @imlovethomassanders @sourshadowling @frogsandcookies @aricana8 @cute-and-angsty-prince @why-is-everyone-pretty @angelgrace003 @a-chilly-pepper

(Lol it’s been so long since I last updated this series, if anyone doesn’t want to be tagged anymore lmk.

Also this has been in my drafts for a while so if you’re tagged and you’re thinking “that’s not my username anymore, how did she tag me?” that’s how)

[healerelowen]

 I have some angst, the relationship trope is getting a bit old so let’s do something new. Also I’m sorry if this seems Ooc I just want the bot to feel agonizing guilt over its pride. Btw whatever the hell P03 did was indeed an accident, but the reader is too angry to care.  I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night! 

TW: Guilt, Break ups, and overall some angsty stuff

 It said it was an accident. You didn’t believe it. The look of panic and sheer pain on its display didn’t faze you. “S/O please believe me! I didn’t mean it!” P03 said, desperately trying to convince you. You stared at it, you thought you had known every bolt, every pixel on its screen. But now you didn’t recognize it at all. “I don’t care about what you meant! I care about what you did! All of it is your own fault!” You spat, anger spreading through your every limb like frost. P03 looked to be slightly annoyed, “It’s already done! I can’t do anything else to fix it!” You started to turn away, “Yeah, it’s already been done, and so is this relationship. Good day to you, P03.” You hissed as you walked away with a scowl. You didn’t look back on the journey back to your own home. Heat from the blazing afternoon kept the evening warm as you walked alone, the sun setting over the horizon turning the sky pale and the water a deep purple. Although as you looked at your reflection in the water, you could’ve sworn you saw P03 next to you for a split second. You blinked and it was gone, although confused, you continued forward. By the time you had reached your house, regret had already started to sink in. You wanted to run back to P03, and tell it that you were sorry. Just to return to its loving embrace, but you knew it was already too late. You said what you said, and now you have to deal with the consequences. And this time, P03 isn’t going to be there to help you.  You would just have to hope everything would turn out alright. You walked to your room, fell onto your bed, and cried yourself to sleep that night. Guilt ached your body as you whimpered helpless apologies to P03 before sleep dragged you away, it's invisible claws pulling you into darkness. 

—- 

“Yeah, it’s already been done, and so is this relationship. Good day to you P03.” Those words seemed to stab through P03’s chest. It wanted to call out to you as you walked away but it decided not to. There was no point in trying to console you once you said that. P03 hovered away to its work space, trying to continue what it had been working on beforehand. Although blinded with regret, P03 continued in an attempt to keep its mind away from the painful event that had occurred. It tried to finish it, but it couldn’t. Those haunting and hate-filled words you had hissed at P03 before you had left refused to leave it. Regret and guilt crippled P03’s thoughts, its claw clenching a tool it had been using. P03 suddenly threw the tool across the room in a blind fit of rage.  “Damn it, why did I have to do that! Of course it would make them upset! I should have known, S/O I’m sorry.” It’s voice started to break in the last sentence, “I’m so sorry,” P03 wailed quietly. It decided not to continue, however by then the sun had set completely and night had made its presence known with the darkened, star-speckled sky. P03 hovered away to its charging station, ignoring its workers as it passed by them. Guilt and sorrow had seemed to keep its mind sealed away from anything outside of its bitter thoughts. ‘I wonder if they also feel guilty.’ P03 wondered before an intrusive thought snapped, ‘Of course they don’t, not after what they said.’ That thought stung, but it had seemed so believable P03 decided not to take note of it. Once P03 got to its charging station, it connected to it and shut itself down, trying not to think about the loneliness yet to come from this day.        

[moodmusicmonday]

With Valentine's Day just around the corner, we couldn't think of a better way to express the L❤️VE in our hearts for our favorite pixelated characters than through the gift of 🎶MUSIC🎶 ! Let's celebrate Valentine's Day by creating the ultimate Choices Romantic Playlist!

How It Works:

🤍 Pick out your favorite OTP (we welcome ALL adult relationships, including throuples, polyamorous, etc). This can be ...

Your favorite pairing from the actual Choices game that you can create (ie Liam x MC from TRR/TRH; Hayden x MC from PM; Raleigh Carerra x MC from Platinum; etc)

Your favorite pairing that you have created through your own fanfiction writing or artwork or even HC

Your favorite pairing that someone else has created through their writing or artwork (wonderful way to show them some loving!)

🖤 Pick a LOVE song that reminds you of that pairing (We'll save angsty/break-up songs for another day)!

🤍 Aaaaaand submit! PLEASE click under the cut for more information and rules. Thanks!

About Submissions...

🖤 Anyone, whether you write, read or draw, you can participate. Whether you've participated in MMM before or not, YOU CAN PARTICIPATE! Seriously! We're talking to you! The lurker in the back: come play!

🤍 Submit your songs 1 of 4 ways:

Reply to this post.

Create your own post with your own banner. Make sure you tag us @moodmusicmonday .

Message us.

Send us an Ask.

🖤 What to include:

Your Pairings (we can include specific names if you'd like! But PLEASE indicate if they're MC or OC)

Are they from a PB book? Are they from a specific fanfiction? If you send us the link to the fic, we will be happy to link it

Song Title and Artist

A lyric that makes your heart flutter with love, that when you hear, it automatically makes you think of your OTP

🤍 You are allowed to share up to 3 (THREE) songs/pairings. This means you can ...

Share 1 pairing, 1-3 songs for them

Share 2 pairings, only 1 song for one pairing, 1-2 songs for the other pairing

Share 3 pairings, only 1 song per pairing.

🖤 All submissions are due by 11:59 pm on Sunday, February 13th (1 week from today!)

🤍 The romantic playlist will be ready for you to enjoy on February 14th!

Let us know if you have any questions!

Have fun, music lovers!

----------

Tag list (let us know if you want to be added or removed):

@alj4890 @ao719 @erenphoria @aussiegurl1234 @axwalker @bebepac @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @karahalloway @kat-tia801 @lovingchoices14 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @peonierose @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @sfb123 @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam@twinkleallnight @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @zaffrenotes

[lsvdw-blog]

Mistakes

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst, Some curse words; Teen (to be safe)

Premise: MC confronts Ethan about standing her up.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Already Here - this is Part II! This is very angsty and I'm so sorry 😭 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 😊

As soon as the name hits his ears, the maître d' subtly tenses. Lifting his eyes away from the notebook in front of him, he plasters on a fake smile, and levels at the man.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ramsey, but your table has been given to another party."

Ethan's brows furrow slightly. "Dr. Ramsey and I don't understand."

The maître d' inwardly rolls his eyes. "My apologies, Dr. Ramsey. However, your date has left and instructed us to put your table to good use."

Ethan runs a hand down his face.

"That's preposterous, Joshua. She couldn't possibly have left. Are you certain she didn't just excuse herself to freshen up?"

Joshua emphatically shuts the notebook in front of him, causing Dr. Ramsey to jump slightly.

"Yes, I'm certain, as is the rest of our staff here tonight. In fact, any one of us would have been honored to spend our evening with someone as charming as her, but instead, she was waiting for you. And, in spite of her lousy evening, she made ours, by leaving a very generous tip."

Halfway through Joshua's speech, a hush fell over the nearby clientele, who were now all watching the scene unfold.

"Do you think that guy is gonna punch Joshua?" Someone whispers and is immediately shushed.

Ethan's heart rate picks up as it dawns on him that the entire restaurant, personnel included, is gossiping about him.

"I—"

"You may be a medical professional, Dr. Ramsey, but that doesn't make you any less of an asshole for standing up such a lovely young woman. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Ethan is left standing there, dumbfounded. After a few seconds, he clears his throat and straightens the front of his suit jacket. As he turns to leave, the other patrons quickly avert their eyes and begin to whisper.

~~~~~~

She pounds on his door with her closed fist.

BANG BANG BANG!

"Ramsey, if you're in there, open the door right now!"

She probably should have just gone home, but she couldn't help herself; she needed some answers.

She hears Jenner barking on the other side of the door, but no one comes. For the second time that night, she's left waiting. The anger she conjured up on the ride over quickly dissipates.

She leans backwards against the wall by his door, inhales and exhales deeply, and slowly slides to the ground.

Am I pathetic? She thinks, as she rests her head on her knees by her chest and tightly shuts her eyes.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there when her eyes snap open at the sound of footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing here?" His baritone voice asks.

She gives a disbelieving laugh. "Really? That's what you're going to open with?"

Ethan coughs awkwardly and goes to unlock the door. He looks down at her and asks softly, "Would you like to come in?"

She's still sitting on the floor, head turned away from him. As he swings the door ajar, she slowly rises and enters.

Jenner immediately trots towards her. "Hey boy," she whispers as she stoops down to pet him.

Ethan drops his keys in a bowl and makes his way to his bar cart. "Would you like something to drink?"

"The strongest thing you have."

His large hand nearly spans the bottle as he pours them both a glass of scotch and walks back over. She glances at him, taking in his loosened tie and unbuttoned collar, hair in disarray, and how his cologne mingled with the faint smell of alcohol. His tousled state is almost enough to diffuse her completely. Almost.

She snatches the drink from him, downs it, and finally makes eye contact. To any other person, her eyes are ablaze with anger, but to him, he can see it for what it really is: a mask to hide the pain she's in.

"What the actual hell, Ethan?"

He looks away guiltily and takes a sip of the amber liquid.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, then I’ll talk. You could have called, or texted, or freaking emailed for all I care. You cancelling would not have been ideal either, but it would have been better than me sitting there, by myself, for almost an hour! 45 minutes, Ethan! If you weren’t going to show, why couldn’t you have picked a place friendlier to my resident salary? I could’ve saved myself a couple hundred bucks! I know this is new for you, but I asked for a date night, not to ride off into the sunset with you!”

Chest heaving and staring daggers at him, she was yelling, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He stays quiet for longer than she would have liked, which only frustrates her more.

“Oh, for the love of—”

“I don't want to make the same mistakes.” He interrupts her.

She freezes. “Mistakes? What exactly is a mistake here, Ethan?”

It may be the bright lights of his apartment, or her shouts of desperation piercing his heart, or the liquor he had before he left finally catching up to him,* but he snaps.

“This! All of this! This conversation, this date night, us!”

His eyes widen in horror at his malicious words and even Jenner barks at him to stop talking.

She mirrors his horrified expression and gasps. The crystal tumbler she forgot she was holding falls to the floor and shatters into a million pieces, reminiscent of her heart.

It feels like time has stopped and honed in on this specific moment. She sees everything in slow motion as Ethan opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to make a sound. She lowers her eyes, blinks a few times, and begins to turn to collect her things.

As she grabs her purse, time resumes. She makes a beeline for the door, but Ethan is quicker. He steps in front of her and gently cups her face.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean that at all. It was said in the heat of the moment and it is the furthest thing from the truth. Please don’t go." He’s gazing at her earnestly, but she keeps her eyes glued to the hardwood floor beneath them.

She registers that he’s speaking, but doesn’t hear his pleading. Everything in her is screaming to get the hell out of there.

"Please look at me." His voice, barely above a whisper, quivers and she is brought back to her harsh reality.

She snaps her head upwards, coldly staring at him, tears welling in her eyes. His heart cracks when he realizes that he’s never seen her cry.

Until now.

“Ethan, if you make me stay here right now, the next time I walk out your door, I am not coming back.”

The resolve in her statement is nearly tangible and grips him with fear. He swallows thickly and gives a slow nod of his head. She breaks free from his grasp and the last things he hears are the loud thud of the door and Jenner’s whimpers.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: No pixels drove to or from the restaurant as our man had been drinking. He may be an asshole, but is responsible and called a cab.

[xxbakerfacexx]

Simblreen 2020 - Gothic Teen Collection Its been quite a tough year for all of us so I hope I can bring a tiny bit of happiness with some pixelated furniture. I wanted to do something for our angsty teens  Set comes with 13 base game objects I wanted to keep it relatively simple, trying not to go for just red and black. I really enjoyed making this set so I hope you like it too. ~ Please don’t re-upload or claim as your own ~ My creations will always be free ~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Download - SFS