#i love angst mmm mmm angst

[alienhumanologist]

I just wrote morty angst bc I was thinking of him

Morty knew that he was never really wanted. And that his mom only gave birth to him in a feeble attempt to save the tattered shreds of a marriage doomed to fail.

He knew that Rick coming to their house was a saving grace to take them out of their sight, a faux abortion that wouldn't cause them any guilt whatsoever. Even though they would say they loved him. There was never any real tangible meaning behind it. Perhaps his parents just knew that saying it would give them some semblance of control towards being a normal family something everyone knew they could never be.

In that way at least he had some understanding towards summer. Summer never told him she loved him. She knew too that it was all bullshit. But unlike him she didn't feel the same guilt of having the meaning of your existence fall on being the saving grace of the family. An empath of sorts. Little regard to what HE wanted. Who cared if he didn't want to be the family therapist. He didn't want to hear from Beth how she hated Jerry. He knew. He saw it first hand, when both of his parents thought no one cared to listen to what was being said. And anytime he would try to be a fixer upper it all came crashing down to no fruition since no one would listen to him and his advice. After all, he had no wisdom. He was the stupid one. That's all they ever told him he was. Stupid.

Little care went towards the reason that he was failing all his classes was that Rick took him out of school with a facetious excuse on the tip of his tongue that school didn't matter. Morty didn't care if it didn't matter to anyone else. He needed it. He needed it as a clutch to normalcy, maybe he could try talking to other people. Maybe he could feel smart when he aced a test. If he wasn't too exhausted from being hauled around.

Except even when he was there he had a lingering feeling that he didn't belong. Every Time he'd try to talk he felt as if everything he said was the wrong thing. He saw how functional the other kids' families were, how proud they were when they won a national something or other. How fulfilled the other kids felt when they scored a goal. But to morty it felt empty. Nothing happy could be sustainable in his heart. After all, doing these things were simple tasks that needed to be completed in order to not die on another planet while he was still figuring out how to make himself sound normal. In fact the more he focused on things that could potentially endanger his safety the more he felt like he couldn't control his own graduation of his adolescence. He couldn't learn to control his ticks of how NOT to make his voice curl upwards in the most inopportune moments. No one else cared (except to bully him about it) no one bothered to teach him how to shave. He didn't need to, he could always have his face be melted off and grown back in with a slough of new flesh, one that didn't grow facial hair. His memories implanted in clones that could never let his controlling of impulses become a normal wave to ride. Instead having to push them down inside since no one cared to ask how he was doing. If Rick ever bothered to ask him “hey buddy how's it going?” In that blathering stuttering jumble of speech he knew it was a facetious cop out at making conversation so it was just him talking the entire ride to an inevitable dangerous situation.

[1spooky2me]

(TW: violence and blood)

Not good enough….

*Pork Soda by Glass Animals playin in the distance*

Part 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

TRAGEDY

DREAM OR NIGHTMARE

PART 8

[wntrswolf]

love mirage

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!secret-lover-betrothed-to-a-bracken

✧ theme/warning(s): slight/implied smut, angst, forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers. — (all characters mentioned are of age!) 18+

✧ word count: 1.8k

✧ author's note: hello! this is my first writing! this one-shot was spontaneously written as it was meant more for self-indulgence but i thought why not share it to others who also has a current obsession with the rising blackwood character, right? :-) anyways, reading fics under the benji tags manifested many scenarios in my head, and gave me inspiration to write something. lastly, forgive me for any possible grammatical errors, i still am an amateur in fictional writing. enjoy!!!

It was the dead of night. The sky had been painted in its darkest hue, the moon stood nearly at its peak, offering its gentle glow along the riverbank. The distant chatter that could be heard during a long day's labor was no longer present, replaced by the solemn silence of nature's symphonies—the flowing river, the rustling of leaves as they danced in breaths of wind, and the lullabies of insects as they clicked and buzzed.

The forest was no stranger to you; befriending the woodland for the passing moons. You often wondered if anyone would, or had, grown an inkling of your periodic disappearance following the hours of supper—what others would think of your father’s only daughter growing a rather sudden interest beyond the walls of your family's stronghold. You always made your way out stealthily, though his words echoed in your mind,

“You are our only hope, daughter. Do not fail us.” A stark reminder of your duty, which would soon bring honor to your family's name.

If it means anything, you knew it was wrong from the start. You had never intended anything as such to happen. For the name of a nobleman was bound to yours, yet your lips would chant whispers of another.

Time became irrelevant right before you met him on this cool summer night. There the young man stood, one hand steady on the hilt of his dagger, ever vigilant should danger lurk in the tranquil embrace of the silent woods; his tense body relaxing upon the sight of your cloaked figure before him—a beacon of familiarity. You had planned to tell him about your betrothal tonight.

Although it was not much longer that you would find yourself a whimpering mess under the Blackwood boy. Your sighs mingled with the saccharine words Benjicot spoke, adding harmonies of moans and gasps of pleasure in the serenity of the haven you both made. You often feared getting caught but Benji assured you in these remote lands, he doubted anyone would be near enough to witness anything— not even the treacherous act you both selfishly indulged in. You still pray to the Gods that they grant you both the favor that no eye spies this clandestine meeting; and the many before.

You never really questioned yourself on why you couldn't confide in your father about your betrothal; had you already envisioned the conversation—mayhem would ensue. It was simple, it was the decision he made—securing your family's position through a marriage pact, a political alliance they called it. Duty, you thought yet again.

You didn't know what, or whom, to shift the blame on—or maybe it was the complexities of guilt. your guilt. You knew the inevitable, yet your selfishness, your greed, your immature desire for love; tainting your rationale. Or that maybe you should feel resentment that your father and the Lord of Stone Hedge, Humfrey Bracken regarded their relationship as close as to being kin. Maybe then you would have the strength to ignore your obligations, this once.

You cursed yourself for thinking the way you did, and you cursed the Gods for the decades-old rivarly between the ancient houses—a hatred and feud born long before either of you were born; beyond your father's time, and his father's before him, yet its roots grew, multiplying the petty divide among those that followed after them.

It made you question what started the war between the two in the first place, as sin begets sin begets sin; however, unwavering was the tryst between you and Benjicot—untouched by the strife and grudges.

He knew. You were aware of his knowledge with the woven webs you had with the Brackens; about your father's bond with the red stallion lord. Your thoughts do not come to a plausible explanation as they endlessly spun in your mind.

And all it took was Benjicot's hips to lower into yours, silencing these whirling thoughts.

Your cloak drapes over you, offering its warmth from the breaths of wind, coming from the riverbank. It spared the watchful eyes of the forest spirits from your unneeded bareness. At your side, Benjicot lays as he adjusts his breeches.

“There’s a war soon to come,” he says as he stares at the sky, hands behind his head, ”And I ought for you to know that given the growing wars, you have not left my mind since.” he nervously confessed.

You hum in response, the weight of his words settling heavily in the quiet of the forest. "I fear what lies ahead, Ben" you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, filled with both longing and apprehension.

He turns to you then, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and uncertainties. "No matter what comes, my love for you will endure." he vows, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your cheek.

You turn your head and sit up, feeling around for your discarded garments to dress.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, sitting up, his expression betraying confusion at your abrupt reaction. 

"No, it's not that." you breathed out, your back faced to him. It was this very moment you had feared since the first: the inevitable.

"Well, did you not finish as I had?" he ventured in jest, a playful side of him that you loved. "Or is it because I professed my love for you?", hoping his declaration had not caused you to pull away. "Trust me, I will make sure there's nothing—"

"My betrothal..." you did not let him finish, "it's to Aeron Bracken." you said, still facing away from him as you rose from the ground. You picked on your fingers picked in nervousness of his next response. The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air.

At first he thought he had not heard you clearly, as if the world had gotten awfully quiet. It was when you repeated once more, realizing his ears did not fail him as his blood got hot—of you saying the name whom ignited an unexplainable fury in him.

"Aeron Bracken," Benjicot repeated in disbelief of your sudden confession, "The Bracken twat, eh?" — the very same Bracken he encountered in fresh conflict, near the mill's boundary stones. Although he did not show it, the tension in the air was strong enough to burn and linger its flames; his knuckles turning pale as he clenched his fists at his side.

"A craven false king follower... is bound to your name, to you." he chuckles incredulously. 

He paced in the clearing, his footsteps heavy as he turned to you. "And what are you to do about it?" He posed the question, pain plain upon his face, though hope bled through the mask of his composure. Deep down, he already knew the answer. He could scare tell if asking you such question was to self-inflict torment, or just a desperate need to face the harsh reality of your confession— not a difference between the two really.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, "It's my father's decision," you explained softly. "I... I cannot defy it." You stood before him, as your tears glisten in the faint light. Torn between love and duty.

"Ben," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "You know the stakes. It’s my duty. My family's honor—” 

"Fuck honor!" he interrupted, his voice thundering through the forest. He strides towards you, "It was long gone the very moment we first met—" he huffed out. He knew in his heart that despite the love he developed towards you, the tangled web of your kinship with the Brackens would soon unravel the bond you shared— still, he gambled with the odds, just as you had.

He had ever hoped that the old Gods would bestow the blessing of his fervent wishes—that it would be you, not some other maiden, whom he would take to wife. He often dreamed of you bearing the heirs of his house, growing gray together, and watch as your blood flow through the veins that would carry on his legacy. Yet, it was only ever a distant dream.

You reached out to him, to calm the storm raging within him, but he jerked away. "Tell me, then," he challenged, stepping closer with fire in his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie, beyond this," he motioned between the two of you. "Are you suggesting that your father, and even yourself, are to declare for the usurper cunt of a King?" he whisper-yells to you. “Or is this some sort of arrangement with those Bracken fucks, to get back at us Blackwoods, simply just using me as a pawn, 'cus you know I'm now Lord?" His words spitting at you like venom;

“Oh, you know where my loyalties lie," you spat, your voice filled with heartache, "But I won't stand for you questioning my integrity nor my family's honor to secure a future." You glared at him as your heart stung with hurt, "And to accuse me... I would not dare to commit something so heinous even if i could; I'm not cruel, Benji."

Benjicot's jaw clenched, shaking his head as he stood facing the river, incomprehensible words muttered under his breath.

"I never asked for this," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "But I have responsibilities. We both do." you sniffled, swallowing the tension of your throat away, "And I know you know..." you wiped your tears, "we know... that this was bound to occur, sooner or later, Ben." your voice was barely audible, even with the deafening silence the forest came to be. "There's a war coming."

The silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken words and the weight of impossible choices.

Benjicot stood before you, his expression torn between love and anguish. His hands trembled as he gathered his scattered belongings, his movements reflecting the turmoil in his heart. You mirrored his actions, silently picking the remnants of what you felt is to be your last fleeting moment of happiness.

"I swear it," he finally spoke, "would that we were not bound by the enmity between our folks, I would have already vowed myself to you. Long before your father would have you promised to another."

His words pierced your heart with longing and regret, the bitter truth of your circumstances hanging between you like a veil of sorrow. “And I would have gladly accepted it,” you replied with a heavy sigh. "—my Lord."

The Blackwood male nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. With a heavy heart, you both silently acknowledged the futility of your love.

Benjicot turned away first. The distance between you both grew; and his silhouette became one with the dark forest.

You knew that somewhere, amidst the pain and heartache, you would find a way to carry on—a life of uncertainty but fraught with duty. As you walked away from the happiness and love that the forest had given you, the ache in your chest spoke of a love that was lost but will never be forgotten. It would be a bittersweet reminder of what once was, and what could never be again.

[a2zillustration]

Heeheehoohoo another self-indulgent one because Gale was SO UPSET after the Halsin proposition

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[evilfrogcereal29]

Work takes up sooo much time so I don't get to write as often, but pls know im still working on longer stuff!!

I just had an idea that I can't expand on cause i work in 30 minutes, but:

Nikto and reader were previously enemies on opposing sides and nikto obliterated you, like, hits you with a fucking explosive. At least he thought.

You're body is recovered, and take my sci-fi loving ass with a grain of salt but, you are refixed with 'new' parts. Aka, artificial limbs, organs, synthetic skin. Any part of you that was outrageously damaged was replaced with new life-like robotics.

And imagine if you are then, years down the line, recuited for Nikto's PMC and he, for the first time in his life, is horrified, scared even. At first he thinks he's seeing shit, because he remembers your face. He was sooo sure you were dead as hell tho, so... HOW THE FUCK WERE YOU STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM. The way your eyes seem to slightly glow unnerves him. everyone you meet knows theres something uncannily wrong with you, even if the higher ups insist you're human.

And like, you remember Nikto. But you're not mad, you don't feel much of anything, that part of you was not focused on when putting you back together. and that makes it actually worse for poor Nikto. You act so normal around him, especially since you're teammates, and he feels so guilty but you just stare at him with those cold eyes and ask him questions, always focused on work, never anything but work from you. And he's always forced to answer. You're a strangely grim reminder of his actions.

[holysheithyall]

A faint memory

[sanjisprincesswifey]

Hi, can I request song 2 with luffy! I use they/them pronouns and my body preference is afab. And I’m ok with safe and nsfw.

Thx u :]

journey’s end (or falling out of love ft. luffy)

notes: emotionally intelligent luffy (so normal luffy), gender-neutral reader (though readers' gender is not specified), sfw content but cw for angst, 500+ words, thank u sm for participating!

luffy didn’t know when everything ended when the spark finally faded. he honestly thought it never would’ve. but if your captain was anything, it was truthful; he was a kind, honest man who would never want to hurt you.

but this morning, when the spring in his step no longer leaped over to you with joy and excitement, you knew there would be nothing but hurt in his wake.

you noticed it in his eyes, so beautiful and wide but carrying so much pain. they glance over to you, glazed over, no smile in sight as he asks if he could talk to you alone.

the uncharacteristic rain cloud that clung over his head burdened you with a dark, heavy feeling in your chest as you followed behind him. he had led you to the girl’s room, making sure that it was clear before he decided to speak.

“there is something i need to tell you,” he mutters, standing tall, but unable to keep your gaze.

the unfamiliar tone that is laced within each word tells you all that you need to know. your relationship over the past couple of weeks had been coasting, only luffy was brave enough to say anything about it.

you take a seat on the closest bed, legs shakey and unable to no longer keep you up, so you succumb to their will with tears already pricking in your ducts.

“i don’t want you to be mad at me,” he starts, shuffling closer to you.

you can only laugh in response, still finding his compassion as charming as ever, but you didn’t want him to beat around the bush this time. holding your hand up, you signal him to skip the niceties.

“i don’t think that i…” he glances up at you, a frown twinging his lips as if he was going to cry. “…that this relationship is going to work anymore.”

the deep breath that you had no idea you were holding in releases, along with a tear that trickles down your cheek. you nod, biting your lip gently, though it hurts you knew this was inevitable.

luffy stands there, unable to move. he so desperately wants to comfort you, gum-gum his arms tightly around your body, and assure you that everything is going to be okay. but that was the thing, he couldn’t tell you that, not when he stood here and broke your heart.

“do you not love me anymore?” you dare to ask, not wanting the answer but asking anyway.

he shakes his head, deciding that hearing probably wasn’t what’s best for you.

your head drops down, a quiet sob leaving you as your body reverberates from the actions.

a few tears of his own fall, sniffling before luffy wants to speak again. “can i hug you?” he asks, for probably the first time in your entire relationship never needing your permission to show you affection. he figured this time admission needed to be granted.

“please,” you croak, only letting out more cries when his warm embrace coddles you in the same, comforting way it always did.

it only eggs you on more when it does, in fact, help and your sobs die down until you’re sniffling on your shoulder. only this time, you knew the lingering loneliness would continue as soon as he let go.

celebrate 3,000 followers with me!

[mar-zom]

headcanon that when Crowley cries, his tears burn and leave marks down his face and burn much like the pool of sulfur he fell into during The Fall.

When Aziraphale leaves to go to heaven, Crowley doesn’t leave his flat/ the bentley for years. Not just because he doesn’t have the energy to talk or see anyone but because he cried so much his tears left scars down his cheeks and in the palms of his hands.

[nowyoursoulisforfeit]

The good shit is Percy’s eyes turning black and orange and smoke coming off of him when his emotions are high even after he’s been exorcised . He will not lose another family and he will fight with everything he has to make sure if that. He does not care what happens to him. He has not known how to do that for a very long time.

[dakuatisuto-blog]

Some doodles

[cyllenity]

UndeadI love all the JP ShenMui fanarts of the last chapter that go somewhat like this

[watercolor-wings]

I don't like ship them and I think it wouldn't work in the story very well at this point, but honestly Flint and Silver should fuck it out. They'd rather be rid of each other as soon as possible but are forced together time and time again by circumstances. Love that kinda tension in a dynamic.

[mayhasopinions]

passing

[rushin-nights]

ALSO JUST A CASUAL SHOUTOUT TO ALL MY NEWER MUTUALS AND OLDER FRIENDS!!!! BLESS YOU ALL!!!! I appreciate you all and I swear I will actually post thingies-

[arom-antix]

Viktuuri week day 6: Love

[hylianmewmew]

iron tongue sneak peek (ravioli ship)

sneaky peekie at a new fic im still not sure abt the name as its barely anything right now but the running title is iron tongue

semi morbid descriptions(?) idk how exactly to tag this but its a ravio suffering inner monologue

If fear had a smell it was this, death and despair, the acrid stench of rotting and festering wounds. To Ravio, it was normal. It was the smell of Thieves' Town, the smell of suffering and squalor. You got used to it after a while, but it never left the back of your brain. The smell reminded you of where you were, what you are, and your misery. Ravio never forgot that, never let himself forget that. No matter how many days, months, years went by existing in Thieves’ Town but never truly living. Lorule had been turned into a wasteland, the past rulers making a foolhardy attempt to end a war that caused much more suffering than a war ever could.