#really frustrated

[bellobambino]

Unraveled

A Luigi Mangione Fic

Luigi Mangione x (F)Long Time Friend

630w

Summary: Luigi shows up at his friend's apartment, hoping to reconnect after being missing for 3 months.

Luigi's POV, First Person Perspective

Warnings: ... Catholicism? Maybe some religious justifications of murder if you're into that.

Author's Note: Please don't give me shit for the religious aspect. Italians tend to be fairly catholic. The act of washing a loved one's feet or caring for a loved one's feet has been talked about and written about for a long ass time. I have serious feelings about it okay. The symbolism, sis. Get cultured, idiots.

———

I knocked, already planning what I was going to say.

How do you apologize for falling off the face of the earth? Especially when things were getting serious. I didn’t know if she’d seen the suspect photos yet—if she knew it was me. And if she did, would she turn me in?

When she opened the door, her face did this thing—the thing faces do when they’re trying to process too much at once.

She blinked. “Jesus, Luigi.”

I tried to play it cool, to say something smooth, like I just happened to be in town and thought I’d swing by. Instead, I croaked out, “Hey.”

It was the voice of a man who hadn’t spoken in months.

“Get inside,” she said, ushering me in.

Her apartment smelled like lavender and something else I couldn’t quite place. It smelled much better than I did. She didn’t ask why I was there, or what kind of mess I was in, or how long I planned to crash on her couch. She just started peeling me apart like an onion.

Backpack. Jacket. Scarf. Hoodie. She got me to sit on the couch. Then she kneeled in front of me, placing my frozen feet in her lap. Immediately, she started working at the triple-knotted laces of my New Balances.

Fiddling with them, she smiled to herself. “You’re very thorough, Lu.”

She chuckled as she unraveled the laces one by one and slipped the shoes off, chucking them and my crusty, frozen socks toward the back door. Then, suddenly, she was holding my bare feet against her chest.

It took me a few moments to process what she was doing. And why.

“I’m so sorry,” I croaked. I didn’t even know what I was apologizing for in that moment, but my Catholic guilt had me saying it anyway.

She didn’t look up, just kept holding my feet in her warm hands, tending to them like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the Son of God on his knees, washing the feet of His disciples—rinsing away all the dirt, grime, and sin of what they’d been through to bring them back to their foundations.

That’s what love does, right? It goes lower. Lower than who you are or what you’ve done. Low enough to lift you out of the corner of hell you’ve crawled into.

But I’m no disciple. I’m an absolute mess. A murderer. And yet her hands were still on me, warm and deliberate, and it was too much. I was shattered. I couldn’t even look at her.

“Sorry? For what? You’re getting frostbite, if you don’t already have the beginnings of it,” she said so matter-of-factly.

I wouldn’t have believed any of this was real if the warmth of her hands wasn’t the truest thing I’d felt in my entire life.

The longer she held me, the more devastated I became. Before I knew it, I was sobbing. Ugly, inconsolable sobbing. I grabbed my scarf off the couch and shoved it into my twisted, tear-streaked, snot-covered face. I couldn’t control the release that came out of me. I didn’t deserve this, but she was giving me grace. Seeing me for who I really was—and who I really was in that moment was pouring out of my eyes and nose.

I knew she couldn’t ignore my reaction, but she didn’t say a word. I tried to steady my breathing, desperate to regain some control. I sniffed, trying to contain the snot situation. “Are you mad?” I squeaked, needing to know.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she reached for her slippers. Gently, she slipped them onto my feet. “I’m gonna open a bottle of red. Do you want a glass?”

That gave me my answer. "Please."

_______________________________________

never satisfied. I cant start or end a fic to save my life. it's so anticlimactic lol

[carcasscounty]

Love the random surge of borderline suicidal ideation while I'm hanging out with my family

Really cool Brain, Keep it up

[victory-cookies]

came home really late and my dumb ass was tired so I went to lie down and I just fucking fell asleep. I needed to shower. I wanted to like. do shit tonight. but no I took a three hour nap and now it’s way too late to do anything

[diabetesnscoliosis]

Ngl "radfeminism" online is getting so stale and boring. All i see are the same four posts with the same commentary and half of it is sharing shit from cookers lol. Everyone is like "oh why do ppl think we're right wing" but then share the same fckn right wing view points like. Don't even get me started on "tHe rIgHt vErSuS tHe lEft" when left means neoliberal. Neoliberalism is related to liberalism, classic right wing ideology.

Also a group that's supposedly all about checking sources just straight up not doing that just to "own the transes". Some of the shit shared borderline ENFORCES gender not fighting against it.

Also: female socialisation. Gnc is more than how you look <3

[melonsharks]

au where everything is the same except mabel and dipper have been going to gravity falls every year before the show takes place since like kindergarten.

its a pretty simple premise that derives mostly from my desire to explore interpersonal relationships and the ways a place and people can change from a young child’s point of view. it doesn’t change canon that much either, admittedly, i just wanted to draw childhood friends stuff LOL. ill call it uhhhhhhhh every summer au.

[catmask]

the 'all marriage is gay as far as im concerned' except its me watching a man and woman character in a show i like and accidentally saying 'theyre so gay' because i literally forget thats not the word for romance because to me all romance is gay

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[postphagendauniverse]

thank god there are phannies in journalism now so we don't have to sit through 500 interviews of "so you make money...on youtube?????" like we did with tatinof and ii, and instead can get the real hardhitting questions like "why is your sims gameplay so wack"

[housecantori]

Game crashes during House of Grief fight every fucking time am I going to be able to beat this game? I killed someone in the fight and that was enough to crash it!

[vettely]

as someone who is starting a new uni at 23 but is blending in perfectly with the 18-year-olds i'm curious and i need to ask

feel free to reblog and tell me in the tags what age do you get mistaken for, and do you find that to be a bad or a good thing :))

[juney-blues]

when you're part of a group with structural power over another goup, you really do gotta just learn to say "i am not exempt from 'fuck 'em' when relevant" whenever someone expresses frustration with you or people like you.

[cuntylouis]

I feel like many people have a fundamental misconception of what unreliable narrator means. It's simply a narrative vehicle not a character flaw or a sign that the character is a bad person. There are also many different types of unreliable narrators in fiction. Being an unreliable narrator doesn't necessarily mean that the character is 'wrong', it definitely doesn't mean that they're wrong about everything even if some aspects in their story are inaccurate, and only some unreliable narrators actively and consciously lie. Stories that have unreliable narrators also tend to deal with perception and memory and they often don't even have one objective truth, just different versions. It reflects real life where we know human memory is highly unreliable and vague and people can interpret same events very differently

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

Jason's been pestering Danny about why he looks like a borderline walking corpse for ages and Danny has decided to put his lying skills to the test. (he has none)

rambling below cut

I've been playing w the idea that the more Danny transforms, the more his ghost form gets "lively" while his human form gets weaker and more sickly. He knows that if he keeps transforming like this then, one day, he's not going to have a livable body to go back to, but he really doesn't want to think about all that. He's more interested in the weird "totally dead but not dead" Wayne son who may or may not have a thing for his sister.

everytime i do one these im like "this time I'll keep it simple so I don't have to suffer through colouring bc I have zero foresight—it'll be greyscale at most" and then all of the sudden its 4am and i'm trying to finish a stupid comic but i decided to add "some" colour to spice it up and hide my shitty ink job and then SOME COLOUR ALWAYS BECOMES FULL COLOUR WHY CAN I NOT ESCAPE THIS STUPID CYCLE!!

(did this all stem from me not being able to decide between a super pale character design and one w a vibrant tan bc I love white hair + tan but I also love extremely pale albino so I forced myself to find a way to make both work? never! that's absurd!)

[tourettesdog]

I am begging people to be normal about completed fics, and in particular one shots.

I am begging people to stop demanding more from authors, and insisting that one shots need to be longer or have sequels.

I don't think yall understand how many fanfic authors are one more "where's the rest of it?" comment away from throwing out any plans they might have had to continue an idea.

Unless an author like specifically says they might write more for an idea, just-- assume something marked as completed is complete, and respect it as it stands, please.

[dreamerdagn]

my tears of the kingdom experience so far

[idontmindifuforgetme]

guys i understand that i'm sounding like a broken record at this point, but notes on a fundraiser mean nothing if they don't translate into actual, tangible help for the family. my latest post about hani's fundraiser broke 4k notes, yet somehow we only managed to rack up a thousand today. that is too little. that literally means only 1/4th, at best, donated to the fundraiser. please donate as well as reblog. if you only reblog without so much as considering donating pocket change to the fundraiser, that puts into question if you care or if you're simply sharing it to absolve yourself of guilt. i understand some people genuinely can't afford it, but if you can please donate - however it may be. it helps. it makes a difference.