#that thinking thoughts of this didnt make me feel so. bad.

[imwetforyourmom]

FADING AS THE SONG GOES.

CW: Angst, unresolved angst?, breaking up, crying, drugs and shit, hanging around the wrong crowd, !!!!DO NOT DO DRUGS!!!! very bad drugs

SUMMARY: Of course chris noticed when you werent okay, he was your boyfriend afterall.

A/N: I have no idea how drugs work, so bear w me here

·˚ ༘

“Its okay, to not be okay, my love.”

The secret was out before it was even whispered to your own mind. It was no secret why you came home with bloodshot eyes, rasped voice, drug smelling breath, the scent too strong, even when you chewed mint gum eight times before coming home, it was still there. Everyone knew what you were doing.

You never received the adrenaline pumping through your blood from keeping such a ‘thrilling’ secret. And, as much as you told yourself, the adrenaline that was once hoped for, wasn’t why you started. It was never even a thought to begin with, that was just what you told people when they curiously asked, and not for the fake bullshit, the real reason why. But why would you tell them the truth? You didnt owe them that.

On the other hand, you owed your boyfriend the truth. You owed him the spilling of your guts, the reeling truth of why you’d begun. But, the guilt swimming down your lungs, stealing your choice of freed breathing, choking you, was why you chose not to. The silent cries, pleas and begs from the little voices inside your head did little to convince you to stop, but they didnt do nothing either. Thats why you’d shoved them into the crevices of your mind, mangled within the rest of your innocence. You knew Chris’ begging voice would do everything to tell you to stop, another reason you never told him. You didnt want to stop.

The radioactive chemicals that filled your body was too addicting to quit, the pure high you felt was strong enough to hold you in its grasp, shove you around and control you. You, too delirious with how good it felt to have the drug pumping through you, to even try and claw your way out. To even try and think about stopping, because when even the slight thought of quitting sent not shivers down your spine, but the crackling of each bone in the drugs grasp went down your spine.

Not even the warmth seeping from Chris’ body when he held you was as good as the high you experienced. Chris would never amount to the drugs, (he controls the guilt). As much as you loved the boy, you loved the intoxicating taste of drugs more. The more you came home late, the more your body ached with the need to feed it more, to give it that beautiful, delicious, ‘at peace’ moments. The more your eyes sunk in, the more your laughter escaped your body, hanging with your ‘friends’. Little did you know, you would’ve actually despised these people if you werent high off your ass everytime you hung out with them. Your little buddies were never people you’d even think about hanging out with, they’d bring that sick feeling of nausea in your stomach when sober. But you weren’t sober. The more you lost yourself, the more Chris was left sat on the bed, watching as the door shut, the peek of little light falling from his lane of vision as it closed comepletely. Why were you leaving him in the dark, there to slouch his shoulders, rest his head in his hands as his thoughts became too heavy?

Gosh, why couldn’t you just fucking stop. What was wrong with you? What was so fucking messed up in your already fucked up head that you chose drugs over your own boyfriend?

In the otherwise silent room, the brush of a foot pushed against the creaky floorboards, you didnt look up. Too ashamed to meet the eye of what you’d hoped, Chris’ hopeful gaze.

“Y/n?” Chris’ voice interrupted the sudden crowding of your own mind, the thoughts all swarming like a crowd of people at a concert, no other reason except to move.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Answer him you asshole!

Your voice tangled within the confines of your closing throat, making it harder for you to speak. Your eyes moved quickly to Chris’, despite the slow bobbing of your head falling backwards.

With a strained effort to speak, you answered. “Yes?” Your eyes looked up to meet his, the almost pitch black room normally lit up with only his pure presense, but it didnt. It only saddened the tension mingling in the air.

His face was sympathetic. Fuck. All the guilt rushed up to the surface, filling your body and taking it whole, that your eyes begged to release the guilt. It began to become harder to hold the tears back, even with only two words uttered, shoved into the atmosphere.

His adams apple bopped downwards as he swallowed, his hands coming to his lower abdomen as they connected, fidgeting nervously like a child in trouble. The eye contact he held began faltering, his lips twitching to speak.

“A- Are you okay?” His hands dropped, his chest rising with a sudden quick inhale, maybe the air was thick with confidence, for him, at least. You felt as if the air was so thick with awkward tension you couldn’t breathe.

The swarming crowds in your mind disappeared, vanishing into the dusty air of your mind. Leaving you to sit, rocking back and forth, holding your head in your hands, too occupied with thinking of a reply to his question to actually answer his question, either the truth, or a lie. He knows the truth either way, you knew that. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to admit that you werent okay, it itched your throat with nausea.

Chris’ eyebrows creased in remorse. His lips slipping to a frown as the air around them began swishing, sloshing with each movement made. He swallowed his previous longing for an answer to everything, instead, he moved his feet, the thick air begrudgingly moving along with him as he sat down, side by side with you.

His arm slid to your shoulder, pulling you close to him as he breathed in and out, slouched and sitting there, holding you against him as he prepared himself for the conversation he was intending to have with you.

“Its okay, to not be okay, my love.” He whispered, his head staring ahead, eyes glued to the monotone green and red carpet coating the floor. His hand rubbed your arm, maybe subconciously, who knows.

“I’m your boyfriend, you dont need to keep secrets from me, you dont need to hide in fear of shame. Thats not what i’m here for.” His voice remained the same, a tired lacing, with a rasp beginning to rip the seams.

“I’m here to be by your side, hold you as mine, let your tears soak my shoulder, share laughter with you, to share arguments together, even. But I cant do that, if you choose-“ his voice faltered, a sharp inhale interrupting his trail of words, as a seemingly brace for himself. “If you choose drugs over me, my love. You need to choose me. And I know, I know its going to be hard, but I want you to want to give them up, I want you to need the freedom.”

You stayed silent, your head resting onto his shoulder, listening to his words as he spoke. If only, if only, you could seep them in. Let them change you, but the drugs felt stronger, grabbing your wrist and tugging, like a helpless child.

Your voice cracked with emotion as you began, “I can’t, Chris,” a near sob escaped your throat. “I want to, I really do, but I just— I cant.” You gave up, your voice trailing off. Your eyes closed, tears beginning to flow down your cheeks, the painful lump in your throat serving as a warning for the sobs begging to rack through your body.

He nods, closing his eyes. A small, seemingly shattered exhale leaves his lips. His hand doesnt stop its comforting and assuring rubs onto your shoulder, only now, his thumb sweeps over your skin every few seconds.

He rests his head ontop of yours. The previous awkward silence seeps to the ground through the cracks of the wood floor. Acceptance is what takes its place. Acceptance that you couldnt let go, acceptance that Chris couldnt do anything to help, unless you let go. Acceptance, that it just wasnt going to work out, no matter how desperate of a longing ache filled inside Chris’ body. It wasnt his choice.

You were just, fading as the song goes.

1,329 words

TAGS

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @ssilentzom @b2cute @graysturns @wh0resstuff @sturn-bugz @sunsetsturniolos @strniolo @sturnssmuts @simply-a-simper @stunza @meerkatzthings @joemamaaa42069 @sturniluvr @cindylcuwho @wurlibydominicfike @watercolorskyy @aaliyahsturniolo1 @alyrasturnz @colorthecosmos444 @sturnobsessedwh0re

@lovesturni0l0s @maryx2xx @mattsmad @dollyspsychoxo @riasturns

@starsturni @britishamerican11 @mattspinkshirt

@chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx

@mels222lunchbox

@elas3

[delusionalgirlswatchf1]

“I think I like you best when you’re just with me and no one else.”[Pepe Marti x reader]

Being a college student and having an internship in f2 was not affecting Y/N well lately. She always valudated academic achievement. And she always loved formula 1. She really wanted to get a job in it,so she really cared about her internship. Her life in last months were totally catastrophic,she didnt even remember when she got some free time to herself. Even though she was frustrated from all of this mess,she never complained. Probably because of a certain someone that her eyes would always look for him first in a room.

Pepe.

She immediately smiled just by thinking about him.

He always took care of her in a way no one did before. The first person to help her in every way thats possible,the first person to make her feel welcomed.

Pepe.

Sometimes she would think he may be feeling the same thing as her. But then,she would blink her eyes to see the reality. A whole paperwork for the Manager and a long school work.

She shaked her head to make this thoughts go away. She felt a jacket on her shoulders and turned to see who was putting it on her.

Pepe.

“Are you trying to get sick? It’s freezing!”

He said with his warm smile.

Ah.Yes.

That smile.

Y/N wanted to say to him that she would never feel cold when his smile was so warm like this.

“You ran away from the team again? It’s becoming a bad habit of yours,Marti.”

“I couldn’t help it,they were being dramatic. Plus,I wanted to see you.”

Y/N smiled slightly. Was he really thinking like that?

“You always see me,dummy.”

Pepe shrugged and got closer to her.

“Yes but with bunch of other people. I think I like you best when you’re just with me and no one else.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She forced a chuckle.

“You are only saying that to mess with me.”

“Nope,I’m dead serious. I like your company,Y/N.”

Y/N blushed as she noticed how Pepe was looking at her. His intense and determined eyes were on her,with a look she only saw him doing on the races.

“I like your company as well.”

“As much as I like yours?”

“Yeah. Probably more.”

“Pfft. That’s impossible.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and chuckled with him. Pepe checked out to make sure the jacket was standing still. Y/N then realized that it was his usual jacket and it smelled exactly like him. Was Pepe trying to kill her today?

“Thank you for the jacket by the way. Thats uh really nice of you.”

Pepe laughed.

“Stop being formal to me,we already passed that part months ago.”

“I know,I know. Just a habit.”

Pepe reached out to hold her hand. Y/N’s eyes immediately got locked into his.

“You know,I was thinking of taking you on a date. What would you say to that?”

Y/N was screaming inside as she was still trying to understand what was going on.

“I-uh as a real date?”

“I didn’t say fake did I?”

“And-And not a friendly date?”

“Who the hell goes on a friendly date? I want to be with you,Y/N. Go on a date with me,please?”

Y/N took a deep breath and ignored the way her heart was being.

“I-I will go on a date with you.”

Pepe smiled so bright that Y/N thought it was sun for a second.

[scoobydoodean]

i know it's compelling in fics for cas to feel betrayed about the jack in the ma'lak box decision but its So weird bc its obvious the moment jack breaks out of it hes like. oh man jack might need to be restrained at least until we can figure out a plan. like his first thought before jack breaks out is "this was cruel of them to do" and then hes like. oh fuck jack might be a threat actually.

like castiel is a complicated character hes on jack's side but by the time god suggests killing jack hes done a full 180 on it.

and when people are like "aiming the gun at jack is just as bad as shooting him" im even more confused bc like. dean aimed a gun at emma and didnt shoot her, even with the safety off. dean aimed a gun at SAM while under mind control/anger spell (talking about southern comfort iirc) and didnt shoot him. dean aimed a blade at cas and didnt stab him. like. its fine for cas to be upset at the god gun thing but its so weird when people act as if cas didnt basically admit jack needs to be stopped/bound next episode.

Cas should have been consulted and had a right to be angry that he wasn't included in the decision. At the same time, part of the reason the whole dead mom incident leading up to this happened is that Cas—yet again—kept something from everyone else so he could make unilateral decisions behind all their backs, so I'm not particularly sympathetic to his frustrations with being excluded.

I also just don't think it was cruel at all to put soulless Jack in a box and I think people should get over it. He was killing people and I care more about that than his feelings about being stuck in a box for all of 20 minutes. I simply don't care and it continuously baffles me how big a deal some fans makes out of this when Jack was going around fucking punishing and killing people in horrific ways for not believing in god on Dumah's orders after Cas suggested to her that Jack was in a vulnerable state due to being soulless and could be molded to do others bidding. Anyway like 20 minutes later, Cas went to inquire about putting Jack in The Cage. You know—the room where Sam was trapped for a year with Michael and Lucifer and where as far as Cas knows at that point, Sam was so badly tortured by Michael in addition to Lucifer that it ripped him apart at the seams?

Fandom's take on the entire thing is so devoid of even the most basic level of nuance or even plain simple honesty (to the point one of my mutuals was sent hate mail for months for nothing more than pointing out canonical facts surrounding the incident). It doesn't even surprise me anymore, because this is a fandom that infantilizes Jack to such an extent that it's been passionately argued to me that Jack should be allowed to kill people when he's angry because he has such Big Important Feelings and simultaneously and incongruously—that Dean shooting Jack to keep him from killing the black store clerk Jack was strangling to death in a rage was an act of abuse. Don't even get me started on gun disk horse that exists beyond that regarding the shooting people with guns show.

[thecherrygod]

/

[puppyeared]

horrible truth bomb dropped on my head 20 min ago

[skunkes]

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[claitea]

i've had these scenarios written down since volo's debut in pokemon masters and i just really wanted to scribble them down and finally release them

[twentyonefirstmates]

Just looked at the digital remains again and oh my god why are we not talking more about the original lyrics to backslide

If I were to backslide, tell everyone we know

Thanks for the last time they came out

...

Why did I not thank you more, saving me those other times

(Don't you dare jump in)

...

I'd rather you hurt me, than do nothing at all

I'd rather you let me down, than just gas me up

I'd rather you cuse me, than do nothing at all

...

You won't make a sound, pick someone else I won't be around

Trapped inside your smile, don't put me on trial

Don't you see you take, everything from me

[nerves-nebula]

gender adventures leo feat my most unexpected PTSD symptom

[chiimeramanticore]

[nerdie-faerie]

Just when I think the day's going well, I crash a golf cart

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

phone calls my detested

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[cottoncandylesbo]

I forgot how exhausting it is to sob, actually scream cry. it feels good and bad. my eyelids sting. i keep trying to get up and do things but everything just makes me feel sick.

[stardust-sunset]

(vent in the tags and under the cut. don’t read if you don’t want.)

sometimes i wonder if people would care if i was gone. there’s just no point anymore tbh.