#how to write angst

[urfriendlywriter]

15 Angsty Prompts. Break your readers. Duh.

[ feel free to use! tag me when yall write somethinggg!! my favs are 11,12¡¿¡¿ omg & 14!]

"I was never enough for you, was I?"

"You made me believe love should hurt. It shouldn't."

"If I begged, would you stay?" they ask, their eyes down cast and glassy, lips trembling. [ouchie]

"I would’ve burnt the world down for you.." "So would I ha-" "Liar."

"No, no, no why? Why are you leaving?!"

^ "Because love isn't enough anymore to stay."

animalistic sobs leaving your body, grieving, emptying your soul out as they hold you, their entire world just collapsing.

^ they whisper, "You're strong, my love.." They pull back cupping your cheeks to wipe your tears even if theirs fill their eyes. "Let it hurt, I'll hold you tonight."

"Please. Just this one last time, pretend you still care."

"I hate that your arms still feel like home."

Their knees give up, "Tell me you don't want me here.. please. Lie. If u have to.."

^ Your eyes well with tears, you try to look away but u can't and before you know it , you're both hugging. "I'm sorry.. I can't."

"How can I make this work?" "You can't-" "Please, [name], don't fuck with me. Please.. How.. can I make this work?"

"I don't miss you." "Look at me and say it, then I'll leave." and the other can not look at them in the eye, "Fuck."

"Please! [Name], give me one more chance.." "No, I'm not giving you another chance to break me further, [Name]."

[me-writes-prompts]

-:"What it's like to be in love" Prompts:-

(We’re so baaaack!!! Lmao, have these angsty/fluffy(???) prompts, tag me if y’all write any of ‘em!!)

By @me-writes-prompts

To not realize you're in love because loving them is a second nature to you

It's the stolen glances, bruised expectations, quiet appreciation

"I love you, but I don't expect you to love me back."

Sitting in bed together in the mornings, performing separate routines in comfortable silence

"To love someone is to let theme exist, in their most natural being, while encouraging them to do so."

But is it so cruel to want them to love you back? Love is pain.

"Denial just makes your love stronger."

"My love wasn't enough to keep you by my side forever. To keep you."

Words left unspoken, dying on lips, because saying them would make them a reality. A truth.

Love exists everywhere, even if they don't. In the creases of the sofa, in the bed sheets, on the fingertips that haven't felt the same soft silkiness that was their hair.

"Loving you wasn't ever enough, was it?"

"Tell me you love me back. Please."

[faetima]

𝐝𝐥𝐦𝐥𝐮 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝) . .

. . you have hanahaki, a severe case of shyness, and a crush on scaramouche, and scaramouche is an absolute jerk.

// tws ; blood ; gn reader ; hanahaki & modern au ; slight cursing 

a/n: first time posting here yippee (pls be nice)

you sobbed, heaving up stupid yellow carnations while sitting on the cold, hard floor of the school bathroom.

you wretched up the damned flowers. they fell ungracefully into the toilet which sat in front of you.

your knees hurt from sitting on them for so long.

if only you could tell him how you felt. it would finally all be over, one way or another. maybe with your feelings being requited.

or maybe with you choking to death, the only thing with you while you die being the stupid fucking flowers.

you coughed again, pale yellow petals fluttering to the ground elegantly.

it was a stark contrast to how, just moments after that, you were coughing your lungs out, flowers flopping down into the toilet in large clumps; stuck together by mucus and blood.

you wheezed and wheezed and wheezed until it felt like there was nothing left in your lungs and your throat was burning and your knees were bruised.

you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears left.

you coughed and coughed and coughed to the point you thought maybe just dying would be better than this fucking hell.

you curled into a ball, crying. crystalline tears ran down your cheeks, falling onto your clothes, the ground, anything.

if only you could fucking talk. why were you like this? why were you fine with your friends, but so terrified to talk to anyone? to everyone?

to him?

maybe, just maybe, if you were different you wouldn’t be in this situation.

if only you weren’t so pathetic, so stupid, so scared.

you hated yourself. you hated yourself so, so much. who the fuck was this terrified to talk to people, but opened up so easily once others talked to them?

maybe you should just confess and get it all over with.

—

you opted to just give him a letter anonymously. 

who knew if he would even read it? he received dozens of confessions everyday.

even if he did read it, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

—

if you could, you would eat up your words.

it was much, much worse than you thought.

he had ripped open the envelope, immediately reading the letter with a scowl.

he wasn’t even halfway through when he burst out laughing.

”what the fuck is this?” he snickered, holding onto his locker so he wouldn’t fall from how hard he was laughing.

”what pathetic fucking weirdo confesses from an anonymous letter? are they too terrified to say it to my fuckin’ face?”

he continued reading the letter.

when he was done, he crumpled it up and threw it away behind him, still laughing.

”that’s so goddamn stupid.”

unfortunately, the crumpled up letter hit you on your head.

not embarrassing, right?

well, it wasn’t until scaramouche saw it had hit you.

”oh, sorry,” he exclaimed in a voice dripping with mock sweetness.

”didn’t see you there.”

it would’ve been fine until his next comment, which you unfortunately overheard.

”these dumb fucking bitches. they’re so stupid, can’t even move out of the way. what are they, blind?” he muttered under his breath, tone condescending.

you burst into tears right then and there, unable to stop the overflow of emotions.

you walked away as quick as you could, wanting to kill yourself right there.

”so emotional, and over what?”

his laugh rang down the hallway, following and taunting you.

—

you don’t know what had come over you that day. before that you had always tried to keep your emotions in check, always tried to stop the tears from coming out in front of people you didn't know.

maybe hearing your crush degrade and insult you had just struck a chord or something.

—

weak coughs wracked your frail body, using up the little energy you had left.

you were on your death bed (quite literally! you were laying on your bed while dying).

honey yellow flowers surrounded you, their sickly sweet scent making you feel nauseous.

you choked up another batch of the flaxen flowers, watching them flop forward onto your bed sheets, staining them a dull crimson because of the blood on them.

with half lidded eyes, you stared at the carnations. your mind was hazy, and your vision blurred.

if you recalled correctly, they symbolized disdain and rejection.

how fitting.

[morallysuperiorlips]

Let's Talk About ✨ANGST✨!

What is ✨angst✨?

The Google machine describes ✨angst✨ as a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.

The world of fanfiction/writing also uses it to describe stories that air on the side of sad/serious/more dramatic tones, themes, etc.

But morallysuperior, how do I write that sort of thing? Where do I even start?

Well, dear writer, it might seem daunting but this is VERY easy to break down.

There are a whole bunch of subgenres of ✨angst✨: hurt/comfort, trauma unearthed, working through loss, dealing with new traumas, etc. But, from my years of studying writing and writing words upon words of shitty fic and chipping away at my WIP, this is what I’ve deduced. All forms of ✨angst✨ fall into one of two categories:

Character-Driven ✨Angst✨ and Character Relationship-Driven ✨Angst✨.

From there, each of those categories can branch off into two slightly more specific but still pretty all-encompassing categories.

Character-Driven ✨Angst✨

Mental: Focus on your character hitting a low. Maybe their deepest fears have just been unearthed. Maybe somebody or something triggered a past trauma. Maybe something about their environment has left them in a terrible place.

Physical: Focus on your character getting hurt. Who hurt them? Why were they hurt? How badly were they hurt? What do they think about as they’re getting hurt? Is it something they can really recover from?

Character Relationship-Driven ✨Angst✨

Mental: Focus on the character’s relationship(s) hitting a low. Did they have a substantial disagreement that may or may not have unearthed some trauma? A miscommunication that resulted in a blowout fight? Do they have to separate for some reason, whether bad or good? How are their bonds being tested? What situation are they in that might make them question their relationship?

Physical: Focus on the character’s loved ones getting hurt. How does your character react? Do they do anything to intervene? Can they do anything to intervene? Did they perhaps cause it in some way? What happens after the fact? Can their loved one recover? How does it affect their relationship going forward? (Makes for great hurt/comfort)

Once you kind of identify those general concepts, I think the possibilities are ENDLESS, and you’re welcome to branch off in any direction your twisted mind desires :)

As always, go fucking write something <3

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

HOW TO WRITE A CHARACTER WHO IS IN PAIN

first thing you might want to consider: is the pain mental or physical?

if it’s physical, what type of pain is it causing? — sharp pain, white-hot pain, acute pain, dull ache, throbbing pain, chronic pain, neuropathic pain (typically caused by nerve damage), etc

if it’s mental, what is the reason your character is in pain? — grief, heartbreak, betrayal, anger, hopelessness, fear and anxiety, etc

because your character will react differently to different types of pain

PHYSICAL PAIN

sharp and white-hot pain may cause a character to grit their teeth, scream, moan, twist their body. their skin may appear pale, eyes red-rimmed and sunken with layers of sweat covering their forehead. they may have tears in their eyes (and the tears may feel hot), but they don’t necessarily have to always be crying.

acute pain may be similar to sharp and white-hot pain; acute pain is sudden and urgent and often comes without a warning, so your character may experience a hitched breathing where they suddenly stop what they’re doing and clench their hand at the spot where it hurts with widened eyes and open mouth (like they’re gasping for air).

dull ache and throbbing pain can result in your character wanting to lay down and close their eyes. if it’s a headache, they may ask for the lights to be turned off and they may be less responsive, in the sense that they’d rather not engage in any activity or conversation and they’d rather be left alone. they may make a soft whimper from their throat from time to time, depends on their personality (if they don’t mind others seeing their discomfort, they may whimper. but if your character doesn’t like anyone seeing them in a not-so-strong state, chances are they won’t make any sound, they might even pretend like they’re fine by continuing with their normal routine, and they may or may not end up throwing up or fainting).

if your character experience chronic pain, their pain will not go away (unlike any other illnesses or injuries where the pain stops after the person is healed) so they can feel all these types of sharp pain shooting through their body. there can also be soreness and stiffness around some specific spots, and it will affect their life. so your character will be lucky if they have caretakers in their life. but are they stubborn? do they accept help from others or do they like to pretend like they’re fine in front of everybody until their body can’t take it anymore and so they can no longer pretend?

neuropathic pain or nerve pain will have your character feeling these senses of burning, shooting and stabbing sensation, and the pain can come very suddenly and without any warning — think of it as an electric shock that causes through your character’s body all of a sudden. your character may yelp or gasp in shock, how they react may vary depends on the severity of the pain and how long it lasts.

EMOTIONAL PAIN

grief can make your character shut themself off from their friends and the world in general. or they can also lash out at anyone who tries to comfort them. (five states of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventual acceptance.)

heartbreak — your character might want to lock themself in a room, anywhere where they are unseen. or they may want to pretend that everything’s fine, that they’re not hurt. until they break down.

betrayal can leave a character with confusion, the feelings of ‘what went wrong?’, so it’s understandable if your character blames themself at first, that maybe it’s their fault because they’ve somehow done something wrong somewhere that caused the other character to betray them. what comes after confusion may be anger. your character can be angry at the person who betrayed them and at themself, after they think they’ve done something wrong that resulted in them being betrayed, they may also be angry at themself next for ‘falling’ for the lies and for ‘being fooled’. so yes, betrayal can leave your character with the hatred that’s directed towards the character who betrayed them and themself. whether or not your character can ‘move on and forgive’ is up to you.

there are several ways a character can react to anger; they can simply lash out, break things, scream and yell, or they can also go complete silent. no shouting, no thrashing the place. they can sit alone in silence and they may cry. anger does make people cry. it mostly won’t be anything like ‘ugly sobbing’ but your character’s eyes can be bloodshot, red-rimmed and there will be tears, only that there won’t be any sobbing in most cases.

hopelessness can be a very valid reason for it, if you want your character to do something reckless or stupid. most people will do anything if they’re desperate enough. so if you want your character to run into a burning building, jump in front of a bullet, or confess their love to their archenemy in front of all their friends, hopelessness is always a valid reason. there’s no ‘out of character’ if they are hopeless and are desperate enough.

fear and anxiety. your character may be trembling, their hands may be shaky. they may lose their appetite. they may be sweaty and/or bouncing their feet. they may have a panic attack if it’s severe enough.

and I think that’s it for now! feel free to add anything I may have forgotten to mention here!

[callmeizukunotdeku]

"You're lying," Damian said. 

And honestly, Tim had to laugh, "I don't know why you think I am. I asked to keep a cat, Alfred said no, and that was that."

"But that..." Damian furrowed his brow. Tim's voice was taking on a different tenor than usual. Something a bit more strained. "He let me have a cat."

"Yeah," Tim said, cringing when his voice cracked on the word, before trying to play it off with a casual shrug, "you're his son."

And Damian was fooled for a moment. He had his mouth half open to reply that he was the blood son. He was different. Superior. 

But he paused upon the fact that Tim hadn't just made that point for him, he'd given him an example. 

The cat. 

Tim had wanted one and been refused. Damian had wanted one and had been obliged. 

He had wanted a dragon and been obliged. 

But Tim couldn't have a cat, and Damian, whenever he asserted his superiority, had thought he was lying. 

He was lying in a way. They were the same. Tim was a well-respected associate of his father, but... 

You're his son. 

But that didn't mean as much as Damian assumed it did. 

Damian assessed his options before doing something he usually avoided. He swallowed his pride, looked at Tim, and said, "I...don't fully understand what your place is here."

Tim gave him a smile filled with enough sympathy to make something ugly roll in Damian's gut. "Me neither, kid. Me neither."

[dattebroyo]

half return

[stardella]

Making fanart for my own espilver fanfic? Couldn’t be me :/

Next to you, I laid softly on this hard ground on Ao3

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie (its rly scratching the itch atm), steve harrington being a sad drunk :(, angst with a happy ending, 1.4k

If you asked him how it transpired, Eddie couldn’t tell you — but somehow, there’s a drunk Steve Harrington on the Munson’s couch.

Physically, he’d hazard a guess Steve walked all the way from whatever party he’d been at. Which is a concern in itself—either Steve wandered through the woods or he wandered quite some way, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The why of why Steve’s here—why he chose to sought out Eddie in particular—is another mystery altogether.

If Eddie had to guess, he’d say somewhere between the commonality of crashing at each other’s place to keep the nightmares at bay and a night of drinking is how Steve ended up here.

It’s nearing midnight the clock tells him, blinking red from the microwave. Steve’s holding a glass of water that he’s sipped from only once.

And he’s sad.

Considering it, Eddie hadn’t thought Steve would be a sad drunk. Especially if you consider the sheer amount of parties he threw as a teenager.

It just doesn’t quite fit into his ever changing picture of Steve Harrington. Like a puzzle piece the wrong shape that doesn’t fit with the rest. Happy drunk? Horny drunk? Those made better sense than this.

But then again, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of Steve a couple months after the Vecna-episode of their lives.

(It’s sort of something he really likes about Steve, that he can’t ever really pin him down — that he’s always surprising Eddie.)

Either way, the fact remains that Steve is drunk and Steve is sad.

Eddie just doesn’t know about what.

“C’mon,” Eddie nudges the glass in Steve’s hand gently, the second time tonight. “Gotta drink up, Stevie, lest you risk the wrath of tomorrow’s hangover.”

Steve’s slumped sideways on the couch, not too drunk to be out of it, but evidently rather physically beat. He’s leaning his head up against the ratty leather of the couch, his eyes closed.

Eddie sits opposite him, enough distance to keep it friendly, but close enough to catch the glass if Steve suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like holding it anymore.

He wants to sit closer, wants to maybe even hold Steve’s hand. Cup his face and murmur sweet nothings until sad drunk Steve is replaced by someone happier.

Eddie swallows the desire down, away.

By all accounts, there’s nothing Steve’s said or done to give away his sadness. Eddie only knows he’s sad from that slight downturn of his mouth — the slight jut of his lip. The world’s most adorable pout if it wasn’t being caused for bad reasons, Eddie thinks.

He knows what it looks like because it’s what Steve looks like when he wakes from a nightmare. When he’s properly distressed, thrust to the verge of tears. Eddie knows the sight well. (And Steve knows his.)

On the couch beside him, Steve makes a little noise in response to the nudge. His eyes crease open.

He looks tired. It’s not the exhaustion that comes with terror, with having sleep chased from you, but… bone-deep tiredness.

Eddie’s lip part, unsure if it’s to urge Steve to drink some water again or just to ask what’s wrong when—

“No one wants it.” Steve says, in the smallest voice. It’s barely a whisper.

Eddie’s brows draw together. The sadness in Steve’s words travel out, pushing an ache into his chest.

“Wants what?”

Steve is silent. He’s not looking at Eddie — he wasn’t before, but now his gaze is downcast, studying the glass in his hands. His finger traces the rim.

“Wants what, Steve?” Eddie tries again.

This time, Steve sighs and it looks like it takes the wind out of him completely. “My…”

There’s a crack in his voice. Steve clears his throat and closes his eyes again, this time scrunched up as if he’s resisting the emotion that tries to take over.

“My stupid love. Keep… keep tryna give it, but no one wants to take it.” He inhales jaggedly, turning an inch and pressing further into the couch, like he’s hiding. His voice is muffled and wrecked. “No one wants it.”

Something splinters in Eddie’s chest, slivers of agony burying beneath his skin. He’s speechless.

How can Steve think that? How can he believe that?

“I do,” Eddie says, before realising what’s he’s saying.

Steve stiffens on the couch, tentatively digging his face out from hiding. His downturned eyes still have that warbling sadness and Eddie just needs to make it better — even if it means throwing his pathetic crush under the bus.

“Eddie-” Steve says, wary and tired all at once, as if he’s saying don’t do this, don’t lie to me.

“I do. It sounds lovely,” Eddie insists, completely truthful. “If you want someone to give it to, I’ll take it. I want it.”

Steve eyes him. Some of that melancholy in him has turned to apprehension. He sniffles a bit and sighs again.

“Not- not like that.” Steve murmurs, eyes falling back to the glass in his hands. He speaks with a lilt of embarrassment, as though he thinks it’s shameful to care this much. “Not as a friend, Eddie.”

A stone grows in Eddie’s throat. It’ll hurt like hell to swallow it, to speak, but Steve has always been worth it.

“I know,” Eddie breathes. He can’t quite keep all his nerves out of the words and they jam up in his mouth for a moment. “Not like that, Steve.”

He desperately wants to grab his own hair, to fiddle with it, release some tension, but he also doesn’t want to break the quiet softness between them.

The fridge hums in the silence. The clock on the microwave blinks back midnight.

Wishing hour? Maybe in some myths and stories. Eddie clings it anyway.

Steve’s hazel eyes are a little wider now. A little more awake. He’s picked his head up, no longer leaning against the couch cushions.

“You…”

Freak. Fag. Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies every awful way this could roll, entirely too late. He tenses up, shoulders curling in, a minuscule motion.

But Steve doesn’t look disgusted, he looks a little in disbelief.

“You… want it?” He asks, that same quiet whisper.

And that does a number of Eddie’s heart—the enormity of Steve’s disbelief that someone would want his love, that the rest of it—the semantics, the fact that boys can’t kiss boys—doesn’t even matter to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaks. He nods jerkily, the nerves still there, even with Steve’s easy acceptance. “I do. I’d love to have it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He’s laid his head back down, his hair scrunched up against the leather, but his eyes are still on Eddie. Not scrutinising, just studying. There’s still that hazy look to them, no doubt the alcohol still in his veins.

“I never… didn’t think…” He’s murmuring more to himself. From the concentration of his gaze, he’s thinking hard. He sniffles again, nose twitching and then frowns, eyes cast to the side, before,

“Okay,” Steve says finally, voice quiet. “If you… if you mean it.”

Then he unfurls his hand, the one that had been tracing the glass, and puts it forward. Between them on the couch.

Eddie eyes it, stomach swooping, pulse thudding, and then does what he does best; throws caution to the wind. Steve might hate him tomorrow but tonight, Eddie won’t hide.

Their fingers slot together easily, two perfect puzzle pieces.

Eddie wonders if him in Steve’s life, him like this with Steve, is one of those things that would work—would make sense. If he wants to make sense with Steve or instead be another surprising thing about him.

(That Steve Harrington might like boys. Might like Eddie.)

Steve is gazing at their joined hands. For the first time since he got to Eddie’s trailer, his lips turn upward, a very small yet happy smile. He gives a very light squeeze with his hand, the lack of strength evidence of his sleepiness. Eddie squeezes back nonetheless.

Then Steve’s eyes are closed and in a few deep breathes, he’s out like a light.

It’s a careful process to extract the glass of water from Steve’s clenched hand, but Eddie manages it. It sits on the edge of the coffee table and when Steve wakes up, mouth dry and in need of water, it will be there.

And so will Eddie.

The burning possibilities of what happens come tomorrow—when Steve’s sober and actually thinking straight (ha)—filter through Eddie’s mind, but he can’t find it in himself.

There’s no regret of he’s done. What he’s said, what’s been revealed.

It’s tomorrow’s problem (or tomorrow’s fantasy come true…?), but til then, Eddie burrows into the couch and readies for a sore neck tomorrow morning.

He should really get up and turn the lamp off, Eddie thinks to himself. Then Steve snuffles in his sleep, uses their intertwined fingers to bring him closer, and he forgets all about it.

[urfriendlywriter]

Angsty Prompts

(feel free to use, tag me when yall write!!! mwah xoxo)

"You're okay, look at me--yes, my love, you're okay. I'm here now."

tight hugs, their hands cradling you and your heart close to theirs.

Their heart shattering with every ragged breath u take and every sob that escapes your lips

"Do u know.. it's incredibly brave of you to.." They pause, gently rubbing the tears stains off your cheeks, "Be vulnerable with me? It's my honor, to protect you, and be a safe place for you."

being hospitalized, and waking up to find them curled at the foot of your bed, holding onto ur hand.

Voice breaking as they whisper, their hand tightening around yours, "I-I thought I lost you.."

pressing your lips their forehead, as they break apart in your arms, clinging onto you. eyes full of pain, tears and rare vulnerability that bares open their entire being to you

^ caressing their face, unable to know what to say or do but whispering, "Let me hold you through this all. It's okay to cry, my love.." and they completely shatter.

Them curling up into ur chest, needing comfort, security and strength

"I'm so sorry--" "No, no, no. You did ur best, my soul, i---i am the one sorry."

[me-writes-prompts]

-:"I can't stop loving you." Angsty romance prompts for your otp:-

(This prompt list...... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. tag me if you write these ☠️)

By @me-writes-prompts

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first." oof

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you." T-T

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?"

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?" (bear with me here AHHHH)

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever." (No words)

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me." SOB OMG DID I JUST WRITE THAT

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

[faetima]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐝. .

. . now he's truly all alone in this world.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: part two to dear. my darling !!

sorry it took so long, i have finals soon so ive been busy studying

aventurine stood at the doorway in utter shock.

you lied on the wooden tiled flooring of your apartment, blood smeared across your lips.

your apartment reeked of rotten flowers and, when he looked down, marigolds were splayed everywhere. single flowers, a few petals, clumps of them--they were all covered in splotches of dried burgundy blood.

aventurine snapped back to his senses. you were laying there, completely still, and he was just standing?

he took a sharp inhale and rushed forward. kneeling down by your side, he immediately placed a hand on your neck to feel your pulse. maybe he was just overreacting, right? he always seemed to do that when it came to you. maybe you were laying there completely unresponsive, but you couldn't be dead or anything! maybe you just fell asleep or fainted or-

he felt no pulse.

your skin was frigid, cold to the very touch. your lips and fingertips were blue, body and face bruised. splotches of black and blue covered you, and your glassy eyes looked forward, never blinking.

aventurine felt his heart drop.

you were dead.

he sobbed and sobbed for hours next to your body, hugging it tight. why was he so fucking stupid? if he had just talked to you or paid more attention or hadn't agreed to break up and had said he wanted to talk things through first maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be lying here dead, surrounded by the pungent scent of rotting marigolds.

aventurine broke out into a coughing fit. gently lowering your body to the ground, he brought one hand up to cover his mouth.

his coughing ceased.

he lowered his hand.

in the middle of his palm laid one bright yellow petal.

[simp-ly-writes]

How Could You Refuse?

─────── · ·

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: When assigned as the lab assistant to Jayce, you were first intimidated to work under someone of such genius inventions but the longer you work alongside one another, the more comfortable you feel and the more you feel for Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce, reader is mentioned to have hair.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,662

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: The way in which I hated Jayce so incredibly much to being in love with him in season 2 deserves to be studied. Let me know if you like this!

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─ · · You had been working under Jayce for as long as recent memory could remember. As soon as he got started working his brilliant mind within the Academy, you were assigned to help the genius (and to keep him alive as well)

─ · · At first you were intimidated and worried to work with the man, often staying in your own corner of the room, running over with tools before taking a few too many steps back- allowing him space or not speaking as to not disturb him but the longer you worked together, the more comfortable you felt. Sitting beside him, sharing meals and ideas together, hands brushing against one another when passing tools and diagrams. The jokes you two shared when your minds were foggy and not quite running right as you laughed at anything at all before the cleaners kicked you both out for the night

─ · · Working for Jayce as you both grew and aged meant getting woken up at odd hours of the night and early morning to be a comforting presence and to ensure he remember to drink liquids other than coffee and the caffeinated tea he unsuccessfully tried to "out-smart" you with

─ · · If Jayce was the brain, you were practically an extension of his body, moving around with him, always knowing what tool or paper he would be next. And if he was ranting or trying to summarize his key points before presenting in front of the Professor, you would be standing in front of him, notebook and pen in arms capturing his every thought. And when you would run out of paper, you would simply start writing up and around your arm

─ · · It would be an uncommon sight not to see you covered in Jayce's diagrams, equations, or quotes as you two walked down the halls together arm in arm. At first, you insisted upon walking slightly apart yet Jayce was having none of that, grabbing your arm and parading you down the hall with a large goofy smile as you did your best to hide your face from the on-coming stares as you glared at his shoes. But now you embraced the mutual comfort you both found in your friendship

─ · · One time Viktor decided to come into the laboratory early and was surprised to see you both asleep at the desk, your head resting on Jayce's shoulder as his arm wrapped around your side, cuddling you both together. Opening a window to let the cool morning breeze, out of the corner of his eye Viktor watched as you both came back to your senses. Stumbling away from one another as you patted down your hair and Jayce stretched himself out as your eyes darted all the way around the room, doing your best to not look and met Viktor's curious stare before he too turned around and began working. "coffee, anyone?"

"please," Jayce replies, grabbing your hand gently as you nod, dropping it and turning out of the hall, only catching the start of his next sentence to Viktor.

"I think I haven't been the most truthful..."

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─ · · As Jayce's diagrams became more complex, his position within the Academy rose and with his growing partnership with Viktor as well, all eyes were on these two men you had the pleasure of working alongside and you couldn't help but receive a few curious glances your way as well.

─ · · It was no shocker to anyone seeing your beauty under your ink filled arms and messy hair that you tugged at endlessly while trying to crunch numbers after numbers with a sleepy Jayce leaning on your shoulder, overlooking your work. He would often press a kiss to your hand, forehead, or cheek, praising you as your cheeks heated up before you squeezed his hand in thanks and returned back to your work

─ · · Now that you think about it, you both had been way more physically affectionate to one another in recent moments yet that was only a testimony to your long-term partnership, nothing more, nothing less.

─ · · You had actually received many offers from other brilliant minds and even sponsors asking you to work for them, and you denied every time knowing that your place was working with your boys but that didn't mean Jayce didn't get annoyed to your surprise.

─ · · His eyebrow furrowed as yet another person came forward, trying to charm your pants off and get you to work for them. He trusted in you, trusted in your working friendship but there was always that smaller, inner voice within him that thought otherwise. That you would leave him for something "bigger" and "greater" that pushed him to do his best- to impress you- to get you to stay

─ · · You were worried about just how far Jayce was pushing himself, striving for greatness as you spent an equal time sitting at the desk, often falling asleep at his side no matter how many times he asked you to go to bed. And more often than not, when you would reawaken in the morning, you would fine a simple note from Jayce as he had carried you back to your room.

─ · · When Jayce became a councillor, you were immensely proud, crying the entire duration when one of your collegue's told you before heading back to the lab where Viktor was already tinkering away. Might as well get closer to Viktor now that it'll just be us two from now on, you tell yourself. Sitting near Viktor as you pass him tool after tool, write down his notes, and provide him coffee

─ · · Work carries on as it usually does, the only difference is not seeing Jayce in the last couple of days yet that was to be expected with his promotion. You were happy to work alongside Viktor but more so than you had been in the past. You both shared a love of blunt and dry humour.

─ · · Jayce was confused as to why he hadn't see you yet, you were his assistant, were you not? He thought to himself near the tail end of a council meeting before heading to the laboratory to find you and Viktor asleep at the same desk, ankles intertwined, heads on a blanket of blueprints and sketches.

─ · · In a feeling of deja vu, Jayce opens the window, allowing the cool morning breeze to drift through the room as you both stir away. You blink, eyes and mind hazy as you stare at the broad man standing in front of you, hand resting on the back of your head. "I've missed you," the voice calls out as you hum, you shake Viktor awake as he groans, pushing your hand away before rubbing his eyes. "Jayce... is that you?"

"yes, it is, and this is where you've been the whole time?" Jayce asks, arms crossed like his eyebrows as he stares you down, his stare making you feel small.

"uh, yes. I've been helping Viktor continue his plans for the new gauntlets for the miners..." you trail off, looking over to find the chair beside you empty, your frown noticeable as Jayce gently turns your head back to face him.

"I need you by my side." And how could you refuse? with the puppy dog eyes you received.

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─ · · That very same day, you apologized to Viktor who only shrugged his shoulders, hand shooing you away and back to Jayce as you followed him in his shadow between meetings with the usual notes in your arm and tray of coffee in the other. Jayce huffed, stopping as you walked into his back, "nothing has changed, you still are my dearest friend, you know that?" Jayce looks down at you, expression serious as you nod your head firmly and take a step beside him, feeling as he takes the tray from out of your hand and wraps his arm under your own. "Much better."

─ · · You felt very out of place, standing to his side during council meetings as he would ask for your opinion as if you were back in the lab, except this time, a dozen eyes were watching your every move as you leaned in to whisper into Jayce's ear your answers.

─ · · The same feeling could also be said for the various events you accompanied him to as well. His arm always a staple around your waist or arm as he guided and introduced you to socialite after politician and you were becoming seriously overwhelmed, this was not a part of the original job description, you thought to yourself while freshening up in the washroom, another councillor Mel, joined you soon afterwards

"You and Jayce appear... close" you flush underneath her curious gaze, eyes darting around the mirror to anywhere but her gaze. "Yes... we have... worked together for quite some time now," you explain, picking at the skin near your fingertips.

"Just working partners though?" Mel presses forward, the hint of a smile appearing on her lips as your mind races at a mile a minute, you think of his mouth whispering into your ear, his large hands gripping your waist, his groggy morning voice as you wake him up with a hand on his shoulder as he smiles lazily at you before pressing a kiss to your temple. Your heart races as you shake your head of these thoughts, "we are nothing more than that," you clarify.

"So that means you wouldn't be mad if I tried something?" Mel asks, extending her hand in an equal silent ask as you stare at the gold jewellery running up her arm doing nothing but already compliment her immense beauty, they would look good together. "No, go ahead."

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─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[humanjarvis]

it's nice to have a friend

big glasses and a bowl cut. 

for the bulk of his short life, that was all anyone saw when they looked at zayne.

no one knew much about him, other than how annoying it was when the teachers praised his intelligence. more than a classmate, he was a goalpost. a standard they couldn’t meet. 

more often than not, his head was buried in a book. he found it much more worthwhile to study people than to speak to them. so he hid in the shade, away from the constant chatter and blistering heat of recess.

that day in september, he’d been too busy absorbing neatly stacked paragraphs to process the muffled voice above him—until you lightly shook his shoulder. 

you’d asked him if he wanted to play. they’d said it was his birthday, after all. but after a long pause and bewildered blush, zayne said no. 

the first three times you asked him, zayne said no.

his answer changed when the leaves did. 

in the brisk november air, pushed forward by a gust of wind, he bumped into a rowdy group of older kids. apparently, his murmured apology hadn’t been good enough. 

first, they threatened to snap his glasses. shatter the lenses so he couldn’t read anymore.

the wicked sneers and guesses that he was special came after. 

through it all, zayne hadn't said a word—he didn't have to. 

because before he could decide whether to tell a teacher or walk away, you were blocking him from view as best you could with your shorter frame, glaring at the boys with molten hatred in your heart. 

and when their leader snorted and took a step toward you both, you unclenched your fist and scratched him right across the face. 

zayne had never been one for violence. his parents told him it never solved anything, and he’d always seen more value in helping people than hurting them. 

but the next time you asked him to play, he nodded his head yes.

he was surprisingly good at make-believe—the doctor to your nurse. and when you invited him back the next day, and the next day, and the day after that, zayne felt he’d made his first friend. 

adult zayne still gets teased, sometimes. 

for the way he speaks like a nonfiction narrator. for the way he retreats from interactions and rejects invitations. for the way he’s hard to read unless you’re fluent in the language of him.

but with you by his side, he’s learned to pay it no mind. 

you like his cadence and his reticence and his rigid kind of softness. you tell him all of it, so he doesn’t have to wonder.

and when the crueler slights wear down the barrier you’ve helped him build, you repeat yourself. 

day after day, you save him. just like you did on the playground. 

so when zayne finds himself in linkon’s finest jewelry store, browsing through shimmering stones he never thought he’d have a need for, he knows one thing for certain: his first friend is his best. 

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

y’all… characters drinking alcohol (in fanfics) is not “dead dove do not eat”

character death alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

angst alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

whump alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

self-harm (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

suicide (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

infidelity (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

BDSM / smut / rough sex (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

even non-con (in fanfics) alone is not necessarily always “dead dove do not eat”

of course, any of the topics mentioned above can be “dead dove do not eat” if it’s written in extremely graphic details in the nature that will sicken your readers / in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / if it’s the main plot of your story. but taboo topics alone are not “dead dove do not eat”. I’m saying this because I’ve seen people use “dead dove do not eat” tag in stories that only mention a taboo subject once and it’s one sentence or one paragraph long, and that is… not what the tag is for.

for instance, if your story contains non-con, but it’s not explicitly written in graphic details / it’s not written in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / it’s not the main focus of your work / it’s only one or two paragraph long, tag it as “rape/non-con” accordingly, but it does not warrant the “dead dove do not eat” tag.

sure, you can say it’s “not that deep” and that it’s all just “made up fandom stuff”, but it can also make it more difficult for people who want to avoid the tag or people who seek out the tag specifically to curate their experiences if the tag isn’t being used correctly the way it's supposed to be used.

I’ve explained what “dead dove do not eat” as a tag means and how you can properly use it here.

but to make it as simple as possible, this is basically the meaning of “dead dove do not eat” tag 👇🏻

(so no, the tag isn’t about character going through a nasty breakup and drowning themself in alcohol or character getting drunk and having sex they end up regretting)

[starscream-is-my-wife]

This is part 1 of a continuation for my other post where LL Megatron gets trapped in the G1 universe, I was thinking about how someone would go insane in this cartoon world and thought "what if Megatron had someone else to accompany him" so, I gave Starscream an existential crisis

Edit: pt 2 here