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#light angst really
kjack89 · 3 months
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Pops up, chucks a tiny angsty ficlet, disappears again…
Enjolras shouldered the door open, shivering against the sudden sting of icy air as he stepped outside. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to keep his teeth from chattering as he crossed the alley behind the Musain to where Grantaire was lurking next to the dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Thought you quit,” Enjolras said in lieu of a greeting, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them warm.
Grantaire didn’t look remotely affected by the cold, and as he raised the cigarette to his lips, the orange glow from the tip lit his face in sharp relief. “Well,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke, “you know what they say about bad habits.”
Enjolras jerked a nod. “Hard to quit,” he affirmed.
“Something like that anyway,” Grantaire said. He took another drag, tapping the cigarette against the top of the dumpster before asking, “Did you need something?”
Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”
Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Just out here to get warm, are you?” he asked, amused.
Since Enjolras’s teeth were now audibly clacking together, he supposed Grantaire had a point. “Just wanted to check on you,” he managed between shivers.
Grantaire rolled his eyes and reached out to draw him close, wrapping his free arm around Enjolras’s shoulders. “Idiot,” he said, with no small amount of affection. “Pretty sure the point of the whole breakup thing means you don’t have to check on me anymore.”
He said it lightly, but his arm tightened around Enjolras’s shoulders, just a little.
There were any number of things Enjolras wanted to say to that, but the problem was, when he was tucked like this against Grantaire’s side, warm and safe, the point of the whole breakup thing just seemed like a terrible idea.
He didn’t say that, though, just reaching out to pluck the cigarette from Grantaire’s fingers, raising it to his own lips. “Well,” he murmured, “bad habits, you know.”
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euthymiaaa · 5 months
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— longing for someone prompts ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
im bathing in angst rn, enjoy!
them haunting your mind constantly, but are you even in theirs?
unconciously searching for them wherever, whenever
itching to text them, yet the guilt of pestering them hits
your stomach being on edge whenever you see someone who has a similar figure to theirs
regularly scouring their social media for any updates
them acting so sweetly which turns out to just be a cruel dream
envy creeping up your throat whenever other people hangout with them
taking them off your mind by hanging out with your friends, just for you to only see bits of their personality in your friends
weeping frustruatedly on your knees because you can't stop recalling your memories with them
surrendering to your insecurities; perhaps they truly are better off without you
hopelessly persuading yourself that you were able to go on with life before knowing them, so you can definitely do it after they left
urging the universe to see them one last time before letting them go (it never happens anyways)
"if anyone is listening, please let our paths intertwine again before the day I take my last breath"
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iiping · 11 months
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imagine if their fallout started with this 🥹
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caicie · 1 month
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Jason: Do you ever wonder what life would’ve been like if you’d never met him?
Tim: What kind of question is that?
Jason: A ‘yes or no’ one.
Tim:
Jason: …yeah. Me too.
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nottspocket · 1 year
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Commission for @uglygreenjacket’s lovely flower-shop fic, Little Shop of Flowers
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faetima · 7 days
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𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐬. .
. . you’re cursed with hanahaki and shyness, while scaramouche is fated to forever hide his feelings behind a mask of indifference.
// tws ; blood ! ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au 
a/n: i love safety scissors by tiffi
there were many things you didn’t know about scaramouche. his family life, his favorite type of flowers, what his favorite kind of dessert was.
what his personal feelings about you were.
but, one thing you did know about him was that he liked cherry cola.
much, much more than the regular kind.
that was too bad though, since you hated cherry cola.
but you couldn’t fault him, your tastes just didn’t match up.
there were many things you didn’t know about scaramouche. his favorite sport, if his love language was physical touch like yours, if he didn’t like shy people.
if he was romantically interested in someone.
but, one thing you did know about him was that he wasn’t rightfully yours.
and that he would never be.
your life was slipping away like delicate grains of sands falling through your hands.
you gagged, pale pink and pristine white candytufts slipping out of your mouth and flopping onto the floor, the ungraceful motion contradicting to how elegant the flowers actually looked.
the flowers were dotted with dull, red spots of blood, standing out on the otherwise light colored blossoms.
you clenched your hands into tight fists, suddenly feeling how cold and clammy they had gotten.
you hunched down, heaving and coughing up more of the damned flowers. they were clumped together and were glistening from being coated in mucus and blood.
the cabbage-like scent of the candytufts combined with the metallic, iron scent of blood was starting to make you dizzy, your stomach turning. you gagged on nothing, queasy from the miasma.
maybe you had no chance with scaramouche.
you sat in class, shoulders slumped forward and lips turning downwards just the slightest bit. you rubbed one of your eyes, tired.
you let out a shaky sigh, not noticing your right leg bouncing up and down unconsciously.
“can you stop that?” a sharp voice cut through the silent haze that had been set over the classroom. you glanced up, finding indigo eyes narrowed in annoyance. scaramouche’s hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was clenched. he scowled at you, pretty face contorting into one filled with exasperation.
”sorry,” you mumbled, immediately dropping your gaze down to the desk, swallowing hard. nervousness crept up your spine, and you took in a shaky breath.
”whatever,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. his ears had the lightest tint of pink to them, of which you didn’t notice, too caught up in your own embarrassment.
you had bought new clothes because you thought you were going to see him that day.
you had cut your hair in your bedroom with safety scissors.
it was so embarrassing. especially because that was the only way he would even notice you, taking the fact that you were too scared to talk to him because of being so goddamn shy.
there was some distant memory you had of scaramouche and you back in seventh grade.
you had both been working on a project, and somehow you had wound up sharing your earbuds with him.
his nose had scrunched up in what had seemed to be disgust.
”you listen to this fucking stuff?” he asked you, staring at you with a scrutinizing gaze, a hint of curiosity in it which you hadn’t noticed.
you had stayed silent, not exactly sure what to say.
it wasn’t his fault that your music tastes hadn’t quite aligned.
— 
you had texted your friends.
they had said not to do it.
but you, being stupid, didn’t want to listen to them.
so you had cut your hair on impulse, all because you wanted to look nice for scaramouche.
now your hair looked so, so damn stupid.
and the worst part? 
you had cut it with safety scissors.
you should’ve listened to your friends.
coughs wracked your feeble body, draining all the energy it had left with the motions.
candytufts fell out of your mouth, piling up on the ground.
sharp pains in your lungs came in intervals, making you wish death would just come and take you already.
but no, it just had to be cruel. it was taunting you, making you feel like you were going to die, make you wish that you were going to die, only to never actually take you.
instead it put you through this suffering.
you felt like you were coughing your lungs out, wanting to rip your throat out from the pain.
you sobbed, wishing to just die, wishing for the world to just end your pain and suffering.
but, alas, death would never come for you.
all because scaramouche hid his feelings for you under a mask of indifference, hidden from anyone’s knowledge.
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tardxsblues · 1 year
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Doctor Who | 8.09 Flatline
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ali-mart · 6 months
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A Shin Hati & Ahsoka post Ep.7 “what if” moment
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glambots · 27 days
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Can I ask for Freddy, Chica, Roxy, and Monty with an S/O who likes to roller skate in the PizzaPlex overnight and brought some big enough for them to join?
🎩Glamrock Freddy + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🎩
There are a lot of things Freddy is good at! Rollerskating is...not one of them. It's quite embarrassing, really. He's mortified that he's going to make a fool of himself in front of you, but if you really want him to try...he'll do it. For you, superstar. You may have to guide him through it, though. At least, until he gets the hang of it! Which he will, of course. He just...needs a little practice, first.
🐊Montgomery Gator + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐊
Monty sucks at rollerskating, period. He's big, he's clumsy, and he keeps tripping over his own damn feet. But it's not his fault--it's these freakin' skates! They don't fit right. And the floor is too slippery! And his laces were undone! And--(Yeah, yeah, sure.) Eventually he just goes off to the side to sulk. He just wanted to look cool in front of you, and now he looks like a total loser!
🍕Glamrock Chica + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🍕
I love to imagine that Chica is great at rollerskating. Out of the band, she's the best at it. She's even got her own skates! They've got her face on them! The two of you are twirling around the ring for hours on end, hand-in-hand, dancing and grooving and having the best time. She only stops once it's snack time, because who can say no to a good post-Skate Date pizza?
🐺Roxanne Wolf + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐺
Does she know how to skate? Pssh, yeah, obviously! Just. Hold her hand for a second. Why isn't important, just don't let go! Okay, fine...she doesn't know how to skate at all. She never learned, okay? And she pouts about it even more than Monty. It's not her fault she's bad at this! It's the skates! They're what's broken, not her! (She's gonna be sulking about this all night.)
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seance · 1 year
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I HOPE THAT YOU WILL FIND YOUR WAY / I HOPE THERE WILL BE BETTER DAYS
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hallwyeoo · 1 year
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I really desperately want Luo Binghe’s perspective in svsss. I want to know what he’s thinking and feeling. I want every horrible thought and ache he has throughout the story. I want to dig my fingers into his brain and squeeze out every last experience, all his despair and hope and longing. I want to know exactly what he was thinking after without a cure, during the abyss, in jin lan city, during the five years. I want it all.
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mila-bee · 6 months
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anxi-writes · 10 months
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Had an urge to write something angsty awhile ago. And thought that maybe tumblr would enjoy this depressing piece of work because, y’know, transformers. Anyways, here’s your food 😋
• ANGST •
It was like a blow to the gut. The glassy windows to outside serving as anything but protection from the sudden emotional pain. The dark space swirls with yellows, oranges and reds, a violent yet beautiful landscape.
A sob escapes from the back of your throat. You didn’t even realise you were crying until now. Your face is drenched in tears, it’s as if you went for dive in an endless abyss of tears. It takes all of your strength to prey yourself from the disastrous scene out in the distance.
A hand clasps your shoulder. Your emotions change like wildfire as you whip around and slap the metal hand away.
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry…? Sorry?? He’s sorry. Where was that apology, that kindness, when he drove his blood stained fist into your planet? Where was his sympathy when he continued to push his own race into near extinction? It’s too fucking late.
“You’re sorry? Well sorry doesn’t bring back my home now, does it?” You hiss with anger. The pit in your stomach boils with rage and you can’t help but release it. Anyone would think you had a death wish with how close you were standing to the ex-warlord. Then again, maybe you did have a death wise. The one thing you were looking forward to and yearned had been incinerated. Dying is the least of your concerns.
“I thought the war was over! I and many others were told that Earth would be safe, that we wouldn’t have to fear a fate such as this!” You’re practically screaming now, your anger burned into your face like the scorched planet of what you once called home. Your crewmates, the aliens you’re now stuck with, look at you with pity. A pettiness that makes you want to just hurl yourself off into the coldness of space. Their pity is the last thing you need. If anything, it just makes matters worse.
“I had a family down there you know? I had a life down there outside of this whole human liaison bullshit!” Tears trickle down your face as you continue to express your anger whilst Megatron stands there. It’s only now that you realise that you might be the last human alive. And that scares you to no end. It’s that thought alone that stops you in your tracks. It stops you from adding onto your continuing verbal assault towards a certain mech, who knows If that’s a good thing or not.
The realisation that you might be the last of your species makes your knees wobble. The sense of dread fills your tiny being to the brim as you find yourself now on your knees. You can’t do this. Fuck this. Your body shakes uncontrollably as you fail to ground yourself. This all seems so bloody dramatic, maybe you would’ve ended up doing great in that one school drama play your teacher begged you to join.
Your vision blurs as you try to pull yourself up from the floor. It’s no use. Maybe it would be better if you just sank into the floor. Sinking into the floor and becoming one with the ship didn’t seem so bad. At this point you would do anything to not be here in this present time.
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youchangedmedestiel · 1 month
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I wrote this little ficlet this week (you can read it on AO3 too), because I needed too. It's called "Angelic bubble" I let you discover why. You can also read it below:
They have this silly ritual between them. It started when they were watching a movie in Dean’s room because Sam and Jack were playing table soccer in the Dean cave. They settled on the bed next to each other with their back resting against the headboard.
Dean won’t admit it but with his current age and the hunting life, his back is hurting when he sits like that too long. Too long being the half of a movie. That time Cas saw him being agitated, not comfortable. He kept moving to find a right position, but they were none.
“Come here, Dean!” Cas offered, patting the space in front of him and between his legs.
“I’m fine.” Dean said, settling in one position. But then he moved again slightly because he wasn’t comfortable.
“Dean.” Cas just said, low and strong, and Dean surrendered. He shifted on the bed carefully and sat between Cas’s legs. He looked behind him, quirking one eyebrow as he looked at the angel behind him. Cas rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean’s shoulders, and pulled him against his chest. “Lie down and relax.”  He said but Dean wasn’t relaxed at all. He wasn’t used to sit like that with Cas, they waited 12 long years maybe more to kiss after all. And at the time, they kissed a few times since Cas was back from the Empty, nothing more happened between them yet. Not that they didn’t want to, because they surely did, but not every walls come down at once, it takes time. So this kind of touching, despite feeling so right, still felt weird too, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it nor to have that.
“I can’t, I’m sorry.” Dean said sitting up, away from Cas.
“Why?” Cas asked, looking at him questioningly.
“I – I don’t know. I –“ Dean tried to explain but in vain. He was having difficulties to be emotionally vulnerable, but he improved that part a little bit. Now he was discovering he had difficulties to be physically vulnerable. It never happened to him before, especially not with a chick he would pick up in a random bar. So why was it so difficult with Cas?
“Dean, please, let me take care of you.” That was it. That was what Dean needed. He needed Cas to show – say out loud - that he wasn’t doing that because he felt obliged to. He wanted to make sure Cas wanted this, wanted him pressed up against his own body.
Dean leaned back against Cas’s chest he felt arms wrapping around him and maybe something else not visible to human eyes. He felt that warm and soft feeling he has every time Cas’s grace evade his body to heal him. And then he felt that warm breath and familiar voice against his ear whisper softly, “I love you.” He was finally able to relax. And now every time they watch a movie just the two of them in Dean’s bed, the hunter sits instantly in his private angelic bubble.
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mobius-m-mobius · 2 years
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DAVID TENNANT as Rev. Harry Watling in Inside Man (2022) - S01E03
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akiriith · 11 months
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Okay but the dragon's tear creating a bunch of Silent Princesses gives the flower a whole other meaning doesnt it
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