#[💔] ━━━ angst ! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

highhhfiveee · 6 months

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Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime

oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜

to crumble (mike schmidt x reader)

tags/warnings: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mike fucks up, reader picks up his slack. things just don’t work! let me know if i missed anything! mndi.

this is long, sorry ;-; there are also probably a million errors in this, please ignore 💜

part 2 here: 🏳️

all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.

you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.

in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility.

every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched.

you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice.

you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house.

his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck.

they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one.

"missed you," you whisper.

"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something.

you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless.

"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness.

"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?"

you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.

sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day.

he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy".

for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions.

mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting."

mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9.

abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."

you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it.

you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you.

you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike.

you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas.

mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep.

for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't.

you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.

you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work.

mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?"

mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first.

you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.

mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.

you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered.

"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"

"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again."

it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside.

you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription.

you argue with him before work sometimes.

"what do you need ambien for?"

"i can't sleep."

"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."

"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."

"what time do you take it?"

"i don't know, y/n."

"why are you lying to me?"

"i'm not."

"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?"

he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia.

you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose.

you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.

the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.

he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.

"i think abby's asleep already."

you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you."

"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy."

"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly.

"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."

you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face.

his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--"

he leaves without another word.

how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak.

for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care.

you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore.

you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.

he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you.

mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.

this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.

the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.

a prequel of sorts : x

THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #fnaf angst #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf fic #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #this was painful #kind of tired so it may be ass but #it feels painful #imagine your relationship just falling to pieces 💔#i made this so long #whoops #faire is writing stuff #josh hutcherson

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cassianyis · 4 months

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#sally face #sally face fanart #sal fisher #travis phelps #sally face fandom #salvis #drew art of a ship i dont ship just for angst 💔#art #angst #sorry lol

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nayrring · 7 months

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All men do is lie

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acornshell · 7 months

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"Where is MY happy ending?"

───── ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴

It’s sad Roman hours y’all🥲💔

I decided to indulge into my love for dolls imagery/concept for this one!!

Got heavily inspired after re-watching the Sanders Asides episode, [The Sides Need A Nice Day] !! :D

Also I absolutely love how Thomas did his hair!! I tried my best to make it look pretty as the real one!💖

It’s always such a joy to be able to make art for Sanders sides again!🥰

Hope you like it!!✨

[Reblogs are deeply appreciated!💖]

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanart #ts art #sanders sides art #thomas sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #roman sanders fanart #roman sanders angst #tss roman #sanders sides roman #fanart #art #degitalart #artwork #💔❤️‍🩹👑

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qingxin-dream · 8 months

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“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy’s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#wrote something much darker for a change #been listening to ‘heather’ by ruby haunt💔#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche angst

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thegargantuangourdii · 5 days

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It speaks for itself.

#art #artists on tumblr #my art #digital art #invader zim #iz #dib membrane #dib #zim #zadr #zadr breakup 😟😔#it’s such a sad day #zadr comic #zadr angst 💔#teehee

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asleep-kat · 1 month

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Two sided coin

#art #digital art #fanart #my art #digitalart #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk #lmk fanart #monkie kid fanart #lmk mk #lego monkie kid spoilers #monkey mk #YOOOO ANGST!!!!#Damn this might just be my fav MK art i've done so far 💔💔💔

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estinesstories · 1 month

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𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓘𝓽, 𝓟𝓲𝓰. 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1-2

𝙃𝙖𝙯𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙃𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙁!𝙋𝙞𝙢𝙥!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙡, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 💗

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙢𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙮, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧/𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙭, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤.

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙞𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙢. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙑𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙖𝙧 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙑𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙍—𝙥𝙚.

(𝙃𝘼𝙕𝘽𝙄𝙉 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙇 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝙑𝙄𝙑𝙕𝙔𝙋𝙊𝙋! 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 @𝙘𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙚! 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 💗)

You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the demon at the front desk. It had been thirty minutes, thirty minutes since you were supposed to meet Valentino for direction issues. You growled to yourself as both your arms and legs were crossed, your ermine coat sagging on your shoulders and showing your gold chains and velvet dress. Your star glasses rested softly the bridge of your nose as you looked around the room. Pulling out a cigarette, you lit it and watched as the demon at the front desk tapped away at her computer. Finally, the door in front of you that led to the hallway to the studio opened, revealing Val in all his glory. He smiled evilly at you through his glasses while you glared at him. He took a drag of his own cigarette as he watched yours hang from your mouth.

“Y/n! Good to see you again~.” He slurred your way, watching as you stood up and strutted over to him with narrowed, pink eyes.

“Your lucky I didn’t leave, ya fuckin’ lump.” You growled at him as you walked past.

You’ve never liked Valentino. You were aware he abused his cast members and employees, so you tried your best to stay away from him. You didn’t need him anyways, you were the biggest pimp/porn director in hell! It helped a lot that you were half-hellborn, so you could travel to all of the rings and make videos for everyone. You were also friends with Asmodeus, who gave you plenty of tips and tricks. He also taught you that list should be enjoyed and never forced, and that it’s an art. Which was specifically why you and him alike hated who Val was and what he did. He was just lucky Ozzie couldn’t travel to the Pride ring, or else Val wouldn’t have a career anymore, let alone a life. The only reason you were teaming with him for this was because you his movie meant really good money.

Val glared at you as you walked in, but held his tongue for the money. As you entered the studio, you looked around at the actors and crew members. All of them looked rather… on edge. You furrowed your brows, but ignored it.

“So, where’s the star?” You huffed as you looked around the room, multiple large, buff sinners as well as tiny petite, skinny ones as well. Val seemed to be searching as well for a moment before growling and turning to you with a very forced smile.

“One moment.” He seethed before stomping off to a door on the other side of the room. You quickly glared at him and stopped his movement. Her stopped dead in his tracks and cold sweated as he heard your heels walk up behind him.

“I’m gonna get ‘em y’ abusive prick.” You whispered to him, making sure no one else could hear as they worked. “Go back t’ yer fucking chair.”

You heard him scurry off as you softly knocked on the door that read Angel Dust at the top, golden plate. Moments late, a hesitant “come in,” came from inside. You gently open the door, having to duck your head as to not hit it as well as your horns on the top of the frame. You smiled at the sinner in front of you, a white, demon, spider boy in a red velvet robe. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“Hey, darlin’,” you cooed as you strutted up to him, subconsciously swaying your hips. You took note of his funny expression. “Are you my star?”

“Who are you?” He inquired, turning in his chair to actually look at you.

“I’m y’ new co-director, doll!” You cheered. “Whenever yer ready, come on out. We’ll wait for you.”

Angel looked utterly confused as you twiddled your fingers his way as if to say goodbye before walking out of the room and back over to Valentino who sat impatiently in his chair. You sat in the one next to it leaned back.

“If I ever find out you hurt another one o’ yer workers, girls or boys, I will rip your limp dick off of your bald balls and chop it in half, and then I’ll shove one half up your ass and see it shut. The other half will go in your throat, and then I’ll see that up too.” You threatened him in a low voice, not looking at him in the eyes. You just heard his breath hitch for a moment before Angel’s door opened, revealing him in nothing but black leather boots. You snatched the script from the table beside you and looked over the first scene. You turned to Valentino with a snarl.

“Are you kidding me? The main subject is gonna be some random robbery rape? No one’s gonna like that shit.” You whispered at him. He huffed at you with crossed arms.

“Fine then. You direct it if you’re so full of it.” He seethed. You scoffed at him but stood and walked over to Angel and the group of large sinners.

“We’re changin’ the script up a bit, fellas.” You took a huffed of smoke and blew it down and away from their faces, something that made them raise a brow.

“Who the fuck are you, bitch?” One of the bigger demons rasped out. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m Y/n, owner of Star Streaks. And your new director, since your old one,” you growled out, glancing back at Val, who was glued to his phone. “Is a bit busy at the moment.”

Their eyes widened at your names, and they all immediately shut up. Your eyes finally landed to Angel with a sweet smile as you looked down at him. “We took out the rape-y-aspect of it, darlin’, don’t worry about it.”

Angel’s eyes seemed to soften slightly till you finally looked back to the others. “Alright, here’s the new script,” you snapped your fingers, making each of their hands hold a packet of papers. “I’ll give you an hour to memorize it. Now, I’m gonna order everyone some bloodbaths from Frazzola’s!”

Before they could say anything, you walked off and pulled your phone out, failing the bakery. “Aye, Baldi,” you turned to Valentino, who looked like he was having the worst day ever. He gave you a half-assed glance. “How many people are workin’ on this right now? Cast and everything.

“Uh, like, I don’t know, forty?” He sighed with a rose brow. You smiled at him and walked off, listening to the cheerful woman answer the call.

You watched carefully as the sex scene finally took place. Suddenly, your phone vibrated on your lap. You picked it up and looked at the name, your assistant’s popping up on the screen. You showed Valentino and watched him silently nod. You exited the room quietly and stood outside to pick up the call. A few seconds later, a blonde woman you knew as the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar, walked up to the door to the studio. Your eyes widened.

“Excuse me for a moment, Honey.” You whispered to her, looking to Charlie again. “Princess Charlie! What a lovely surprise.”

Charlie seemed startled by your voice before widening her eyes at you. “Y/n Star? Woah, I didn’t know angel works for you too!”

You chuckled at her and smiled sweetly at her excitement. “Oh no, honey. I’m just his co-director. Speaking of, make sure yer quiet when you go in, their recordin’.”

She nodded at you silently before entering the room. You then unmuted yourself and apologized to Honey for having to hold on her.

As you were talking with Honey about statistics, which quickly just turned into how excited she was that she was pregnant with her dear wife’s baby, it was a few minutes after Charlie went into the room, and you heard crackling and screams coming from the room. You also noticed an orange hue illuminated under the door. Soon, smoke poured out of the door, and the screaming stopped. Your brows furrowed.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry darlin’ I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I think there’s a fire in the studio.” You hurried out and hung up before whipping open the door. Behind it, stood charred equipment that had been knocked over, as well as multiple workers and actors sprawled all over the room, terrified expressions on their faces. It didn’t help that you looked furious. You searched the room and landed your eyes on Charlie, who looked more scared than anyone there. You frowned and looked at her worriedly. “What the fuck happened in here? Are you okay?” You put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t speak. You turned to the rest of the sinners and demons in there room. “Is everyone okay?”

You got multiple nods and “yeah”’s from everyone, making you sigh in relief. Suddenly, you realized you couldn’t find the two most important people of the movie in the room, Angel Dust and Valentino. You seethed, angrily storming to Angel’s room and slamming open the door so hard it causes the handle to get stuck in the wall. Valentino whips his head up to look at you, and all color leaves his expression as you slowly looked down to Angel Dust, who was crumbled up on the floor in pain, and held a black bruise on his eye. You were absolutely fuming. Angel looks at you with a painful expression, tears just barely brimming his eyes. You looked back up to Valentino. You stepped over Angel and towards Val.

“Angel, go get Charlie and leave. Tell ‘er you ain’t comin’ back ‘ere. And remember not to be mad at her, be mad at this little cunt sucker.” You growled, never taking your wild eyes off of the abuser. He said nothing, and only left. You ripped the door out of the wall and slammed it shut. “Are you FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME!?”

“W-wait, Y/n! Please, it was an accident-“ He stuttered, backing up as you stepped closer. You growled as he finally fell back onto the couch in his room.

“Fuckin’ accident my ASS, you SHIT DICK BITCH!” You screamed in his face before slapping him hard across the face. The hit caused him to fall to the side, but you caught him by the throat before he could go very far and slammed him back into the wall behind the couch. “What’d I tell you!? WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU!? I TOLD YOU IF I CAUGHT YOU DOIN’ THAT FUCKIN’ SHIT I WAS GONNA FUCK YOU UP, RIGHT!? IS THAT WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT ME TO DO TO YOU!?”

You slammed a flat palm onto Val’s crotch, causing him to let out a mangled mix between a pleasured moan and a pained grunt. You narrowed your eyes at him in disgust as he looked at you with wide, lustful eyes. Your grip on his neck tightened, causing his top hands to grasp your forearm weakly, his bottom hands spreading flatly onto the back of the couch to hold himself up.

“You, are fuckin’ disgustin’. You’re the sluttiest, bitchiest, most insecure, insufferable piece of pimp trash I have ever had the torment of meeting. You’re lucky that I have a lick of damn sense, or I’d rip that hard little mealworm you call a cock into pieces. I know that you own Angel’s soul. Give me that contract or I’ll still consider your damn punishment.” And with that, you let go of him. He panted and quickly snapped his fingers, the golden contract appearing before your eyes. You snatched it and glared at him before storming out of the room. You turned to the sinners who were still left in the room, an apologetic look crossing your features. “I am so sorry t’ all of ya, y’all can go take the rest of the week off, and I’ll make sure to give you all your paychecks by Tuesday.”

Soon, everyone left, and you stepped out of the room left with a closed eye sigh. Your index and thumb were rested on the bridge of your nose as well as your hand on your hip as you felt a headache coming along.

“Uh, Miss Star?” You were startled at the name, whipping your head to the side to find Charlie and Angel seeming to wait for you outside the room. They stepped up to you when you softened your gaze. Charlie smiled sadly at you, while Angel just kinda looked sad.

“Oh, what is it sweet heart?” You asked tiredly, leaning down a bit to talk to them both. Charlie looked over to Angel and nudged him towards you encouragingly. He sighed.

“Thank you. Thank you so much fer helpin’ us,” his voice cracked, and he sounded like he was about to cry. Your frowned at him. “Fer helpin’ me.”

You smiled gently at him and looked in between the two. “Can I give y’all a hug?”

Charlie looked ecstatic, while Angel rose a brow, but you pulled them both in for the most genuine, comforting hug either of them had ever felt, like that of a mother. They both relaxed into your embrace for a moment before you suddenly remembered. “Oh! Angel, I forgot.”

The then snapped, the contract the sinner had signed appearing in front of all of them. Angel’s eyes widened, tears brimming them yet again.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered and grabbed the paper, before you set it into cold flames, causing him to jump.

“You’re free now Angel, no more abuse, and no more pornos unless that’s what y’ want.” You spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile as he turned to look at you. Suddenly, he rushed to take you in a tight hug, leaving you surprised. But your gaze soon softened at him.

“Thank you…” he whispered, and you patted his back.

“Course, honey! Now, if you did wanna keep working, do not work for that man. If you want, I’ve got an open spot for actor. No contracts needed, tons of friendly demons, loads of breaks, and you can totally quit whenever. But I do understand if you don’t wanna keep the business. Just make sure you call me if you want the gig!” You gleamed at him, giving him your card as you started to walk down the hall to the elevator. “Or, you can just call me! I’ll be happy to talk whenever! Love you, kids!”

And with that, you left, strutting iconically down the hall and leaving the two staring at you in shock.

“Oh, she’s definitely my new idol.” Angel mumbled.

“Uh huh.” Charlie answered.

𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙊𝙉𝙀!! 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙤! 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨! 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 💗🫶

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox #vox x reader #spotify #requests open #fanfic #charlie morningstar #angst with a happy ending #angel dust #valentino #FUCK YOU VALENTINO 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕#feeling bad I left honey on a cliff hanger 💔💔💔

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