#it's angsttttt

[apotatomashedbybts]

Their retreating footsteps fell into Yoongi's ear like a hammer on a steel surface.

Reblog with a random sentence from your wip.

[ask-lu-two-and-mew]

For Lucario >:3

“I just… wanted to help…”

[sokkabaddiebender2021]

zutara this, kataang that, zukka queerbait maybe, WELL WHAT IF JETKO IS CANON IN THE LIVE ACTION?? THOSE TWO HAD THE MOST CHEMISTRY IN THE ORIGINAL SHOW I WANT TO SEE THEM IN LIVE ACTION NOWWW (the actors are also my pookies i’m biased)

[keykittygirl]

Anyway as you asked here you go ^^ ( TW : BLOOD)

And a reminder this is a fake scenario, it's not canon in the AU or anything just something for me to practice writing on :3

He froze in shock at the scene before him.

Tears started streaming from his wide terrified eyes, his jaw agape as he tried to proceed on what just happened.

His spear has long been forgotten and now lies beside where he stands.

“N-no… This c-can't be…”

His legs buckled up before him as he fell to his knees. His hands trembling as he tried to caress her now cold cheeks. His tears stained her pale face.

“P-please… D-dont leave me… I should have been faster… I'm so sorry… Please…”

He begged shakily while he bent down slowly so now her cold forehead pressed against his own.

He can't even hug her or even try to stop the blood that keeps oozing out from her wounds as the spike prevented him from doing any of it.

They both now in a pool of blood… a pool of her blood…

He doesn't care if his armor were now stained by her blood...

He could have prevented this.

If he was faster she would be still breathing right now.

It's all his fault.

He let her die before his very eyes.

If he was just faster, he should have been faster!

“I'm sorry keya… I'm so sorry I fail you”

He pressed his forehead more against hers and clung as much as he could as if it could bring her back again.

His body is wrecking with sobs as he continues to mutter words of apology. He caressed her soft long hair that's now sticky with blood.

A familiar voice can be heard from afar.

“Ne Zha! Thanks Buddha's you oka-”

Xiaotian being the first one to arrive only to see something he would never even thought he would see.

The blossoms were now crying over the dear butterfly… His dear little butterfly…

The others that had finally catch up, only to freeze at the sight before them.

“I'm so sorry, keya… Please wake up… Please… don't leave me here alone… Please I'll do anything…”

Wukong tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Ne Zha… You need to let-”

“N-no no no no! I-I should have been faster!… It's all my fault!… I-I…”

His words were being interrupted as heavy sobs broke out from him, tears never stopping leaving his eyes.

The others finally gained enough composure to try to approach and comfort him by performing a group hug, some do it while looking away from the now lifeless body before them, still unable to fully believe or process what just happened.

“It's my fault…”

“Shushshs shh it's not kid… it's never been yours…”

Said Wukong toward the poor boy as he also joined the hug to try to comfort the poor boy.

“Shshs… you have to let go of her kid… I'm so sorry…”

Hehe anyway this is actually a rewriting of a fake scenarios I did before, which is this.

Ignore the cencored one ^v^

I want to see if I did improved in my writing or did I do the opposite or stayed the same

Share your honest thoughts about it in the comments okay? ^^

[ryoshiwaah]

chapter 15: mistletoe pt.2

a/n: lowkey short chapter bc I had to dig to find my motivation.

The day after, Y/n woke up to loud voices echoing in the house; being half-asleep, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, taking in her surroundings: next to her, where Minji was sleeping the night before, was a tidy bed. 

The sight made the youngest groan in frustration, annoyed that her friend was probably having breakfast without her, and also dared to stop cuddling her. Unacceptable.

As she stared at the empty space for a little more, contemplating the way she could use the situation to make Minji feel guilty and receive more presents on Christmas’s day, from the corner of the eye, a glimpse of a note caught her attention.

On the pillow, there was a folded piece of paper that said “for Y/n”.

Curiosity and worry got the best of our stupid protagonist and she opened it, to her, it was either a suicide note or a lame joke that Minji thought once she woke up.

Opening it with trembling fingers, Y/n thought of the worst and her anxiety only flared up at the words slurred into the piece of paper. 

“I’m sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I’m sorry for writing this and for leaving you alone.”

The first paragraph was apology after apology, the ink blurred and made a mess because of the wet stains on the paper, signaling that Minji was crying while writing the letter. The doubt creeped into her mind that this was all a dream.

She had to be dreaming.

“Writing this feels like betraying you, Y/n, but the guilt of ending up becoming more… I can’t live with it. You don’t deserve it, the hate of the netizens if they find out, the looks on our parents' faces.”

A desperate, sarcastic giggle left her lips. The hopes of another Christmas together were shattering right in front of her. That couldn’t be their last Holidays together, it wasn’t possible. After almost a decade of being friends, Minji was letting everything go because of a kiss?

The promise of growing up and succeeding together, the secrets – Their entire lives.

Did all of that simply didn’t matter anymore to her?

“I know you’d be able to keep it up in front of the world, but I’m different. I’m not like you, I’m not strong nor patient, and if I can’t love you freely I’d rather not love you at all. My feelings will pass and yours will too. I’m sure of it, you’re easily bored after all.”

The piece of paper fell to the ground with calmness despite the weight of the words written on it. Y/n didn’t talk, her head felt light and dizzy, overwhelmed with dread, sadness, anger and fear.

Slowly, the loud voices began to have a meaning, becoming distinct sounds: Y/n could hear Minji’s mother yelling at someone, her own mother trying to reason with her, while a male voice, perhaps Minji’s brother, was gradually raising his voice.

Did they know what happened? Maybe Minji came back and they were lecturing her. 

With trembling legs and a heart filled with delusion, Y/n almost tripped on her own Christmas shoes as she ran to the kitchen, flying on the steps of the stairs. It was clearly one of Minji’s pranks.

She never pranked her to be honest, but maybe the Holidays’ spirit made her let loose.

Minji wasn’t in the kitchen, or in the house, not even in town anymore. Y/n learned from the girl’s mother the truth behind the piece of paper: she had called a cab and went back to the dorms, claiming the company needed her as soon as possible.

They tried to make her come back but she was adamant, always justifying her actions with the same sentence – “The company needs me.”

Y/n lost hope once again, she spent her holidays locked in her room, barely getting out to eat. Minji did the same, training, eating, sleeping, repeat; her instructor checked on her from time to time, but she would always lock her door and shut off everyone.

previous | masterlist | next

[starheirxero]

Imagining Lunar hyperventilating and choking on their sobs as they repeat to themselves you're already on this path you can't stop, you're already on this path you can't stop, you're already on this path you can't stop–

[transcrewonthedutchman]

The goddess first true encounter with Mortality. With Grief. With Loss.... With Love.

[intairnwetrust]

Moodboard for @azrisweek

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Fifteen

Estranged

The stage door burst open and you poured out into the damp alleyway. The neon signs illuminating the wet asphalt, providing just enough light for you to flick your lighter repeatedly in a failed desperate attempt to light your cigarette. It took you longer than you would have liked to realize you weren’t alone in the alleyway. As if by design, you found yourself again staring at a shadowy figure in an alleyway, eyeing you down like a predator. His dark curls enthralled his dark, chiseled face. He turned his face up to confirm your suspicion-it was him.

“No.” You shake your head immediately turning to open the stage door, but slash beats you to the door, overpowering your attempt to open it and slams it shut as his arm encases you into him. He was larger and stockier now, more muscular and manly. You instantly pull away. “I guess you’re still not above running away huh” slash bites, his voice deeper and gravelly. “I have nothing to say to you.” You bite back immediately shutting his remark down. A tense burn was thickened in the damp night air. Both of your hearts racing with adrenaline as your chests both rose in anger. Your back is turned as he towers behind you, his large hand still holding the door shut.

“Seems like after a couple years you might think of something to say for once.” Slash growled. His labored breath from the brief struggle was hot on your neck. His sharp sweet musk filled your lungs and your knees weaken slightly. Words fail you. Rejecting the desire to drink him in completely, you remain unphased. You simply can’t believe this is happening right now.

Only the gentle rainfall onto the pavement filled the void. Slash reissued his anger with a fist to the door, you jolted in fear underneath him as the sound banged out on the metal door. A frustrated grunt escaping from his lips

“Y/N! What are you doing here?!�� He barked out some sort of expression of concern and confusion and shock to see you, especially here. You had enough and ripped yourself away from his enclosure and stood away in the alley now facing him.

“WHY DOES IT MATTER SLASH?! HUH?! WHY DO YOU SUDDENLY GIVE A SHIT? WHAT DO YOU CARE?!” You broke your silence.

“BECAUSE IVE ALWAYS FUCKING CARED, Y/N!” He immediately replied.

The two of you wasted no time picking up a long awaited conversation. The conversation was clearly reminiscent of the past now.

“That’s bullshit - that’s bullshit and you know it!” You retort.

“I WAITED Y/N!” Slash took a pause and continued, you watched him.

“I WAITED AND YOU NEVER WROTE! YOU NEVER CALLED, YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING!” He took a slight step forward pleading in anger, a tinge of sadness trailing in his voice.

You unintentionally roll your eyes and let out a loud scoff/laugh/cry. You glance upward at the sky in frustration. The level of disaster and frustration had you almost chuckling.

“They took me AWAY!” You laugh in total anger at this whole situation. Slash’s demeanor slows as he tries to understand what you mean. You notice his confusion and go on.

“God slash- they locked me UP! In that-that fucking asylum! I wrote- I wrote you every fucking day I could and THEY never sent them.” You ramble and flail your arm.

And then you turn to face him again. “And you know what slash-?” Your arms hit your sides limply defeated. “it didn’t even fucking MATTER in the end because as soon as I got out you were already moved on! Okay?! I saw you on MTV, I saw you win all the stupid fucking awards, the girls, I saw it all slash!” You roar off this all as slash stood still and watched.

“I MOVED ON BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU DID! WHAT CHOICE DID I HAVE? I COULDN’T LIVE IN THAT ANY LONGER. If I felt it any longer it would have fucking killed me. Do you understand that? My fucking life depended on forgetting you. Living-…with the fact that I lost you seemingly so quickly, foxey.. I couldn’t…I-“

The nickname spilled out of his mouth like acid. Causing a slight pause between the two of you. You snapped. This was stupid. You had a job to do, he could return to his night of luxurious squalor. You start stepping backwards, wiping a tear off your cheek.

“Did it mean anything then?” You ask quietly.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You shrug. “All of it- slash. Did any of it mean anything to you then?”

Slash took a step forward.

“ it meant fucking everything.” He emphasized. His voice choking ever so slightly.

You give slash a wholehearted smile through your tears, feeling silly. Still hurt, still angry. And now confused and terribly frustrated.

“Well, this has been great, just lovely-“ you laugh and sniff up tears. “but I don’t have time for this, I have to go. ” You continue to walk away.

He stands there looking at you in awe and defeat. Words failing him.

You round the corner, your heels clacking on the ground. You rest for a moment up against the opposite corner to catch yourself. The bright lights from the street shining down on you against the brick wall. You cup a hand over your mouth as additional tears etch their way out of you against your will. Everything you have fought to forget came spilling through you like tidal waves. The air swept from your lungs. And now that entire confrontation to top it off. What a nightmare you thought. An absolute fucking nightmare. Everything he said just then…..all of this- it had broken him too. By the emotion in his voice, it was clear he was earnest in his heartbreak. It was real- he really had been wounded just as you had.

Clara rounded the corner “there you are girl! Hey wassa matter doll? come on you know we gotta end tonight with a bang. Don’t let no stupid guys hold you down” She held you as you composed yourself. Her cheery demeanor always lifted you off your feet. She was right, you had clients to please and money to make, a roof to pay for. You had to earn your keep.

Clara pulled back and held your face in her hands“I got somethin that’ll cheer you up-“ she giggled like she had a secret and pulled out a small baggie of coke, shaking it playfully it in her fingers. You wiped your face and took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s fucking do this.” You said sighed. You and Clara circle inside through the front door as to avoid returning to the alleyway. “By the way- did ya catch that total HUNK in the alleyway back thea? Gawd what I would do to climb that guy like a tree, didn’t catch his face but I’m sure it’s as good as his ass!” She remarked nonchalantly unaware of his identity or relation to you. I mean she was right. Time had been extremely kind to him. He grew into himself. His curls were somewhat darker and larger than life. His body fit and toned to the point that it was noticeable even through his clothing. His stature was taller and thickened with muscle. His strength was greater and so was his overall energy. Something undeniably cravable about him that pierced through the anger and pain associated with his presence. Memories infiltrating your mind. Had things gone differently back there, a small part of you wished to turn around and run back into his big muscular arms, to feel his large strong hands hold your body like a doll, his hot breath to caress your neck again….

*snap snap* “Helloooooo. Are you even listening to me?” Clara laughed. You returned to reality.

“Sorry right- what were you saying? God- sorry Clara I’m just off it tonight.” You admit still staring off. She takes no offense.

“Oh I was just sayin about that VIP client that booked you tonight. Pretty exciting stuff to have such a big name like that request you specifically like that- a last minute booking for you like that ain’t cheap, oughta put up some big cash to reserve you like that. Of course I suppose cash ain’t no worry for guys like that., bein famous n all.”

You queue back into the conversation.

“Famous?” You ask

“Yeah girl, ain’t you neva hearda Guns N’ Roses before?”

[all-too-unwell-13]

i dont remember much about jason and his mom but.. like on the show if he was physically looked like her for angst reasons while Thalia looked more like zeus although black jason is a cool idea im just scared of fans going to murder me

no that's so valid!! i obvi love love love black grace siblings BUT i think it would definitely also make sense for thalia who resembles zeus + jason who just... doesn't. bc it also kinda makes sense considering it's clear that zeus has a favourite kid (and it isn't jason 😭), so there's that.

idk if we'll get hera scenes in s2 bc she isn't mention until... book 4? idk- but it would be kinda cool to see an hera who resembled jason's mom? if that makes sense? so we could have like jason who looks like hera, bc she basically raised him more than zeus OR his mom, and then thalia who looks like zeus???

idk i'm lowkey scared to talk abt this too bc i feel like it mightttt be controversial but 😭🙏

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

i look forward to reading the migraine fic when you finish it!!! :)

Be ready, cuz this is a lengthy one😭 And lowkey, I went a bit heavy on the angst🥲.

TW: Angst, childhood neglect

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In all her life, Spirit never thought she’d EVER wind up on a double date. And yet, here she was, picking out an outfit to wear to some new downtown restaurant that Oliver had been dying to go to. When he gave her his signature puppy dog eyes, it became physically impossible to refuse.

With a frustrated sigh, Spirit grabbed a red t-shirt and a black bomber jacket, and some black ripped jeans that she adorned with a belt and chains. She tied her hair into a low ponytail, pulled on her sneakers, and left her dorm.

As she made her way to her car, her phone began to ring in her pocket. Annoyed, she hung up without answering. Her mom couldn’t get the hint, and called right back, so Spirit hung up again and put her phone on mute. She couldn’t get why the woman was being to adamant today. It’s not like she cared to call over the holidays. Did she want to give a half-assed apology like usually? Maybe give some dumb excuses? Or maybe ask if Spirit had decided to send her a gift, even though she knows damn well that Spirit can’t afford anything up to her standards.

A low, uncomfortable pulsing was starting to form at the base of Spirit’s nape. Not in the mood to handle a migraine, Spirit closed her eyes and breathed deep till the feeling vanished before pulling out of the parking lot.

By the time she got to Aiden’s place, he was waiting outside, looking adorable as he moved bit by bit from side to side as he barely lifted his feet to jog in place, trying to stay warm. With a smile on his face, he speed-walked to Spirit’s car and quickly got in, chuckling shakily with his teeth chattering a bit.

Spirit stared at him with an amused yet disbelieving look, scoffing. “It’s sixty degrees. There’s no way you’re that cold.”

He chuckled again. “I washed my hair, and it’s still a bit damp. That’s why I’m so cold.”

“Why didn’t you dry it? And why were you waiting outside if you—”

She was cut off when he leaned forward and kissed her, smiling against her lips. He pulled away, seeing her clearly trying to suppress a smile. “You’re still an idiot.”

“I can live with that,” he said, kissing her again. She kissed him back, and he felt as if the warmth of her affection was helping him thaw.

By the time they got downtown and to the restaurant, Issac and Oliver were waiting outside, and the sight of them made Spirit chuckle. Oliver was hugging Isaac under the blonde’s jacket, and Isaac was obviously keeping him warm that way. Obviously, neither of them were the least bit anxious about PDA, seeming oblivious to anyone who looked at them. Even though they’ve only been together for a few weeks, they look as if they’ve been dating for years.

With his chin on top of Oliver’s head, Isaac spotted Spirit and Aiden and smiled. “Hey!”

Oliver pulled back, his face slightly splotchy from being pressed against Isaac’s chest, and smiled and said hi as well.

“We’re not late, are we?” Aiden asked.

Oliver stepped out of the warmth of Isaac’s jacket and pulled out his phone. “Right on time, actually.”

Spirit looked at the restaurant and felt her stomach twist uneasily a bit. “This is the place? It looks really. . . fancy.”

“It’s not too fancy, don’t worry,” Oliver assured her. And then, probably understanding the slight hesitance in Spirit’s voice, he said, “It’s not too expensive either. Everyone raving about this place on social media has been talking about the great food and prices, and how it’s a ‘must-visit place in Tucson’.”

Spirit felt relief to hear that.

They all made their way inside, jingling the dangly bells by the door, and all of them were immediately in awe. It was a multi-cultural restaurant, clearly mixing Hispanic, African, and Korean culture together. Spirit was prepared to take mental notes, wondering what dishes she could try to re-create for her culinary class.

Obviously, it was a popular spot. Especially for influencers. As a waitress led them to their table, they passed many people taking pictures of the food or recording themselves.

Isaac and Oliver sat on one side of the table, and Spirit and Aiden sat on the other.

“This place is so cool”, Oliver said, still looking mesmerized by the decor. “Getting a reservation was so lucky.”

“It smells incredible in here,” Spirit said, grabbing a menu. Her eyes widened at the selection. Never in her life had she seen Dominican Fried Yuca and Korean Kimbap Rolls right next to each other on a menu.

There was K-pop music playing, but the sound of it was drowned out by the sound of people talking in the restaurant.

“What’s this?” Aiden asked Spirit, pointing at one of the menu’s Spanish dishes.

“Mofongo,” Spirit stated. “Puerto Rican mashed and fried plantains, mixed with oil and meat.”

“Interesting,” Aiden said, looking at the types of Mofongo on the menu.

It wasn’t long before they each decided on a dish. Oliver got Bibimbap with North African Spiced chicken, Isaac got Dominican Rice and Beans with garlic chicken, Aiden got the Beef Mofongo, and Spirit got jjajangmeyon with Kimchi and pickled radish.

Judging by the business of the place, it was clear their orders would take a while, so conversation filled the waiting time.

“I’m gonna kill that ginger prick if he doesn’t stop kicking my seat in class,” Isaac stated dramatically. “He’s driving me insane!”

“Can’t you just sit somewhere else?” Spirit asked.

“And let him win? Hell no. He does it cuz I get to class early and take the best spot in the middle, by the aisle. He’s a jealous and petty pretty-boy-bitch, but I’m not backing down first!”

Aiden chuckled. “In theaters now, ladies and gentlemen. The Seat Wars: A heartbreaking saga of betrayal and murder.”

Oliver laughed; a contagious sound that made them all start laughing as well.

Spirit was enjoying herself enough that the previous pulsing in her brain was merely a distant memory now.

But, suddenly, nature was calling.

“I’ll be right back,” Spirit said to the others, standing and making her way towards the restrooms. Once again, Spirit noticed the many influencers in the restaurant. Some taking pictures, some recording themselves, some typing on their phones.

Spirit heard the bells by the entrance, and though she knew it was just another person entering the restaurant, she glimpsed anyway and—

She froze.

Her eyes widened.

Suddenly, Spirit wondered if she was seeing things. But the blonde hair, the obnoxiously bright outfit that likely cost more than her beaten-up car, and the air which the woman carried herself with were all too familiar.

Mom, Spirit thought to herself, her stomach dropping.

Abruptly, in just a blink of an eye, the pulsing in the base of Spirit’s head returned tenfold, causing her to wince and rush into the bathroom. All the stalls were empty—shockingly since the restaurant was packed—and Spirit rushed into the nearest stall, locking it and leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath and control her spiraling thoughts.

My mom is here. Is that why she kept calling me? If she’s here, it’s probably for her blog. Did she want to dress me up and parade me in one of her stupid videos like she used to? ‘Perfect mom’ my ass. I can’t stay here. I don’t want to talk to her. I have to get out of here.

But then Spirit’s scrambled mind recalled how much Oliver had been looking forward to this. How much fun they were all having. How badly she didn’t want to ruin this for her friends or her boyfriend, just because she doesn’t want to speak to her obnoxious mother.

The pulsing began spreading quickly, making Spirit clench her teeth and lean further against the side of the stall, pressing her temple against it hard. Tears burned behind her eyes from the sharp pains all throughout her head. It felt as if her brain was being squeezed by something that had little needles on all sides.

In just a few seconds, Spirit felt like she could barely stand, so she slid down to the floor, her hands reaching up to tug at her hair. Still, the spiraling thoughts never let up. There was a feeling in her gut—a mix of anger and hatred and fear and anxiety—that she hadn’t felt since the last time she saw her mom face-to-face, before she even started college two whole years before. It wasn’t a particularly happy face-to-face.

Spirit reached into her pocket, opening up her messages to Isaac but hesitating. The feeling in her gut began to swirl with an overwhelming feeling of guilt for ruining their fun double date. Sure, she could just go out there and act like normal and pretend she hadn’t seen her mom, but the fact that her vision was starting to blur in and out due to the pain was a massive warning sign that she needed to leave.

Spirit shut her eyes, breathing deeply, trying her best to push back the pain of the migraine, at least for a few minutes. The fingers pulling at her hair began to rub her scalp instead, trying to relieve the pressure.

After about five minutes, the pain was eased enough for her to tough through it a bit. She quickly did her business in the bathroom, washed her hands, fixed her mussed hair, and left. She kept herself from looking around as she made her way back towards the others, seeing them all still smiling and chatting.

I can’t ruin the mood, she thought suddenly. So, she put on a smile and made her way back over, sitting again. “Hey.”

“Spirit, perfect,” Isaac said quickly. “We’re having a debate here. You see, Aiden and Oliver are both trying to tell me that strawberry is a better candy flavor than cherry.”

“It is,” Oliver insists, giggling.

“Personally,” Aiden says, “I can’t tell the difference between two flavors when it comes to candy, but subconsciously, when given a choice between the two, I do pick strawberry since it’s my favorite fruit.”

Isaac scoffs, gesturing to himself dramatically. “I feel offended, attacked, ganged up on, and I need someone on my side here.”

Smirking, working up the energy and mental strength to be her usual self and act normal, Spirit shrugs. “Sorry, Isaac, but I’ve gotta agree that strawberry is the better candy flavor.”

Isaac groans dramatically, dropping his head on the table. “Y’all suck.”

Spirit laughed with Oliver and Aiden, but it felt forced.

The others continued talking, but Spirit began to not pay attention to the conversation. Anxiously, she glimpsed around, unsure whether she did or didn’t want to know where her mom was.

Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to not run into her. I can just keep ignoring her calls. But what do I do if she does talk to me? She’ll make some kind of scene, that’s for sure. God, my head is killing me.

“Spirit?”

Spirit startled, realizing she’d been asked a question by Oliver. “S-sorry. What did you ask?”

Oliver slightly narrowed his eyes. “I just wanted to know if you were okay with catching a movie after we eat.” He looks around to where Spirit was looking before looking back at her. “You alright?”

Spirit then realized that Aiden and Issac were both looking at her strangely.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, a little too quickly.

None of the others looked convinced.

“You sure about that?” Isaac asked. “You look a little pale. Are you sick?”

Dammit, Spirit thought, that guilt twisting in her stomach like a knife. “No, I’m not sick,” she insisted. “Just a little headache, but I’m fine.” On accident, seeing a flash of blonde in the corner of her eye, Spirit looked that way, only to realize it was a different blonde woman. She let out a little sigh of relief.

“You’re on edge about something,” Aiden stated, his knuckles gently touching her knee under the table, and Spirit realized she was bouncing her leg.

With a sigh, Spirit realized they’d already noticed something was off, and there was no convincing them otherwise.

Biting her cheek, Spirit looked around one more time before looking at her friends.

“My mom is here.”

Isaac’s eyes widen. “What?!”

Also looking surprised, Oliver looks around again, no doubt looking for the woman.

Aiden, recalling what Spirit told him about the woman’s insane neglect, and remembering the sadness on her face when she talked about the woman, he grabbed Spirit’s hand and squeezed. “You okay? Do you want to get out of here?”

As much as Spirit did want to leave, guilt for ruining what was supposed to be a fun outing made her shake her head.

“Spirit—”

“We were having fun. I didn’t mean to—” she was cut off by a grimace when a wave of pain in her head hit her like a truck.

Oliver sighed. “You have a migraine, don’t you.” It was an observation, not a question. Her friends were too good at reading her.

“You get migraines?” Aiden asked softly, looking concerned.

Spirit clenched her jaw, silently cursing at herself for not hiding everything better. Now, their fun was ruined. Just knowing that made her head hurt worse, her vision once again doing that blurring thing.

“Let’s get out of here,” Aiden said, squeezing Spirit’s hand again. As if sensing how guilty she was, Aiden kissed her cheek, making her look at him. “It’s fine. We can eat here another time. If what you need is to get out of here, then that’s my main concern. Okay?” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s go.”

Spirit and her friends got up and started towards the front.

“I’ll cancel our orders,” Isaac said, but before he could break away from the group to go do so, Spirit froze, looking nervously at a table near the front corner of the restaurant. The woman had a literal camera guy sitting across from her while she talked, using that fake overly-sweet voice Spirit hates.

There was no way they could leave without her seeing them.

“That’s her?” Aiden asked Spirit quietly.

She nodded, resisting the urge to sink to the ground and pull at her hair. She rolled her neck a bit, bothered greatly by the headache. Without a word, Aiden let go of her hand and instead put it on her upper back, using his thumb to massage her nape, easing some of the pain. “Let’s go. Quickly.”

They sped up their pace a bit, and Spirit kept her head down. Isaac went to the front to cancel their orders, and Aiden and Oliver went outside with Spirit.

As soon at the cold January air hit her, she sighed heavily, allowing the cold to relax her nerves a bit. Aiden’s hand remained on her back, and Oliver touched her arm gently. “Spir—”

Spirit cut off her friend with a retch, doubling over. She heaved, and the dizzying force of it almost made her fall if it weren’t for Aiden wrapping his arms around her.

“Crap,” Aiden gasped, his concern growing as Spirit continued to heave. “You’re okay. Just let it up.”

Spirit dry-heaved again, but knew nothing would come up since her stomach was empty. She took a shuddering breath, steadying her legs and standing up straight again.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, rubbing her temple. Her fingers started to creep into her hair, but Oliver pulled her arm down gently before she could start pulling at it.

Aiden kept an arm around her waist, looking her in the eye worriedly. Before he could say anything, Spirit assured him again, “I’m fine, I promise. The stress just got to me a bit.” She then turned to Oliver. “I’m sorry—”

“We can always come another time,” he interrupted, smiling softly. “I get it. That woman certainly does have a knack for popping in and out of your life when you least expect it.”

Isaac came out of the restaurant then. “You okay, Spirit?” he asked.

Spirit nodded. “Yeah, I’m f—” She stopped when the restaurant doors opened again.

The others all turned around, frowning. Aiden looked disappointed, and both Oliver and Isaac looked hateful.

“So, you ignore my calls, and then you don’t bother to stop and say hi to me? You can’t take a second out of your life to say hello to your own mom?” Spirit’s mother walked over with her hands on her hips, one of her perfectly-plucked eyebrows raised, and her snobbish nose turned up at her daughter and her daughter’s friends.

Spirit said nothing, glaring at the woman.

“Leave her alone,” Isaac said, his tone cold and angered. “And don’t act like she owes you anything.”

The woman ignored him. “Spirit, I would appreciate it if I could post you in my blog, just to show the viewers how well you’re doing in college.” She then looks Spirit up and down, her lip curling slightly. “I brought you a good-looking outfit for the video and pictures. Okay? I can give it to you now, and we can meet up later. And maybe you could first get a hair appointment to get some decently colored blonde highli—”

“Shut up!” Spirit raised her voice at the woman, all but shaking with rage and drawing the attention of other people around. “I’m not gonna pose like your ‘perfect little girl’ in your stupid blog, just so you can feed your ego and feel good about yourself! You’ve done nothing for me!” Tears started to burn behind her eyes. Her temper was rising, bubbling and spilling over.

“Spirit-” Oliver started worriedly, putting a hand on her arm, but she shrugged him off and stepped walked towards her mom, Aiden’s arm falling from her waist.

“How many times do we have to have this conversation before you understand?!” She yelled, pointing a finger at her mother who seemed entirely unfazed. “I HATE YOU! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE!!!”

The woman said nothing at first. Then she scoffed, slapping Spirit’s hand away. “You’re exactly like your dad. . . was.”

Spirit flinched as if slapped, her stomach dropping. The woman certainly knew how to twist Spirit’s deepest knife.

Spirit just stood there as the woman turned and walked back into the restaurant, no doubt ready to put that fake smile and personality back on.

Frozen, Spirit heard the words in her head again.

like your dad. . . was.

“Spirit?”

Her ears started ringing. It felt like her skull was closing in on her brain.

“Spirit?!”

Was she breathing? She could feel air coming in and out of her lungs, but she felt dizzy and lightheaded.

She could hear her friends around her, but it was like hearing them through water. She hear Aiden, and she could also see him right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. He looked worried.

. . . was.

Spirit felt her knees give out, and the ground rushed up to meet her.

[azucar-skull]

Thinking about that opening scene in The Walking Dead game season 3...

And how that is so similar to ROTTMNT--

[schnitzelsemmerl]

A RtC fic, but Ocean votes for herself. Or she doesn't.

Karnak's loud voice boomed through all purgatory, "Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg. Your vote?"

Ocean stepped forward, nervous. The tension in the room was so thick it coud've been cut with a knife. The room waited in anticipation. There was the light. She could walk through. Into the living realm. Everything would be forgotten...or atleast she hoped so. Mischa glared, as did Noel, who whispered "Don't you mess this up", his voice laced with venom. Constance looked down at the floor, her hands resting in her lap. Ocean could see a single, small tear roll down her flushed cheeks. Ricky was next to Constance's right, patting her on the back in supportive manner. And Jane- no, that... freaky monster, was staring at Ocean with her black doll eyes, clutching her headless doll. No emotion behind her- no, its eyes.

Stay strong, Ocean. You can't feel empathy for them now. This is your chance. Your new shot at life. You could accomplish everything you dreamed of. Like becoming the prime minister of Canada. Setting an example. Bettering the world. Be known.

"Your vote, Miss Rosenberg?"

But what if you didn't choose yourself? What would happen then? Who would get your vote? Now that Ocean thought about it... she had never really thought about that. Every story had a lesson.. why didn't she ever listen to the others' stories?

Constance, who was obviously known as the nicest girl in town. But she was so much more. Constance loved to bake. She loved flowers, too. Especially tulips. She dyed her hair a different color every month. Ocean hated that. But what she'd give to be alive one more time. To see Constance alive too. One last time.

Noel, who was pretty much her frenemy. Yet despite all that, she... liked him. Not in a romantic sense. Not even in a platonic sense. She liked the way he saw the world. The way he sang. The way he was passionate about things that brought him joy. The way his handwriting looked like it came straight out of a love letter. Ocean hated the way she could never get away from Noel. And he hated that fact even more. But deep down... she'd do everything to be alive and bicker with him about something minor, something that didn't even matter, again.

Mischa, who was forced to join the choir. She honestly couldn't stand the way he'd start fights. The way he brushed his hair to make it stand up like that. But she grew to like it, for some weird reason. Ocean admired Mischa's passion. His hardworking nature, how he wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. He also stood up for her, he punched a girl from Ocean's AP Calc class who called her a prude. Her. Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg. He didn't have to. But he did it. For some ominous reason. She had to pick him. He had a whole fiancée to live for.

Ricky. The most creative person Ocean ever had the pleasure of meeting. He listened. He was creative, kind, a "cool dude", who was "madwickedawesome", as Mischa would say. Ocean missed how Ricky would always draw cats on the sheet music when they were supposed to be rehearsing. She missed how he would wear funky-colored sweaters every day. At one point, he owned about 20 different ones. She'd give everything to read Ricky's stories about Zolar one more time, despite being grossed out before. It was still weird to her. But strangely, she missed that.

And...her. The unidentified girl.

Ocean couldn't pick herself. No.

"Miss Rosenberg." Karnak spoke, interrupting Ocean's thoughts. "Time is running out."

Why did she ever take everything for granted?

The ominous novelty machine began to count, "10."

She didn’t deserve to come back to life.

"9."

Who should she pick?

"8."

It had to be someone else. And she needed to make that decision NOW.

"7."

They had to tell her story too.

"6."

They had to tell the choir's stories. She didn’t care if she would ever be remembered. But she couldn't let the others be forgotten.

"5."

Ocean wishes, she would've known this before.

"4."

She wishes she had known that there is no way to control who lives, who dies, and who tells one's story.

"3," Karnak's voice began to quiet down. The machine began to rattle.

Think, Ocean! Pick someone...

"2," he spoke, the gears in his mechanical body turned and malfunctioned audibly. Ocean cringed at the sound of metal screeching.

But who?

"1," the magic machine uttered. Everything turned dark. Karnak was broken, beyond repair.

Ocean softly breathed, "Her. I vote... for her." She pointed at a confused Jane.

But her decision was made a split second too late.

[adoriels-tears-if]

YPU CANT SAY YOU'RE SCARED FOR TELIO TOO THEN POST THAT SNEAK PEAK LMFAO NOW IM TERRIFIED.

You're overreacting Anon, it's not like I wrote this:

------------------------------------------

“You've done well,” Telio tells you, his voice broken, patting you on the head. That simple gesture is difficult as he lies on the ground. You crouched beside him. Your eyes glisten with held-back tears, and you see the pain in his eyes, mirroring your own. There's blood at the corner of his mouth and his breathing is labored. The weight of his touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold on to something that eludes you, and the pain in his eyes is almost unbearable. “You're going to be okay, right?” You croak over the lump in your throat. “Of course, I'm going to be okay. I'm just a little tired.” His smile is a fragile mask, barely hiding the anguish inside him, as if he's trying to convince himself as much as you are. The air between you is thick with unspoken words and shared grief, and this brief contact feels like a lifeline in a storm of despair. You squeeze his hand. One, two, three. You think your nose is running. You must be horrible to look at, but Telio doesn't comment. His absinth skin grows paler by the minute and a shiver you feel through your hand grips his whole body. There's fear in your voice as you ask him again if he's all right. He replies that he is, that he just wants to sleep, so you pull back the blanket and lie down against him, burying your face in his arm. “Okay...later on, after your nap, you'll tell me another story?” “Yes.” His voice is frail. “I promise.” Then you close your eyes, squeezing his arm, which is no longer warm, but tepid. When you open them again, Telio is frozen and your eyes widen as you realize you can't hear the comforting thud thud thud of his heartbeat. Several agonizing minutes pass before you find the courage to sit up. His face is livid, his lips blue. Night has taken him and you weep, begging him to come back. “Please come back. Don't leave me here alone. I don't want to be alone, come back, you promised me a story.” You break down as you realize his is over and yours will have to go on without him.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Maybe I write my reactions in other characters. Maybe every character holds a piece of me. Maybe there is some form of autobiography in every story I write.

Maybe I simply don’t reveal what it is…

[itsjustafia]

THE TEARS IN THIS MAN'S EYES!!?!?!?

I'm gonna die on Thursday.