#*aggresive screaming into the void*

[the-artist-of-chaos]

Mmmmm. Twiffy headcanons go brrr 👁️👁️ (minor spoilers for bugsnax btw-) OH, and there’s gonna be a couple angst Hcs too, and some hurt/comfort lottaham. be warned, don’t kill me.

•First met wambus at a grocery store during their freshmen year (so around 14-15)

•Okay. Yes. I know. When she says she has 2 left feet, she means that she can’t dance that well, figurative language, yea yea- WHAT ABOUT LITERALLY TOO? IM GIVING HER 2 LEFT FEET.

• “oh I’m fine hon, don’t worry!” *INSERT HER LITERALLY HAVING A HOLE GOING THROUGH HER STOMACH-*

•I feel like one of her stims would be quietly mumbling wamby to herself <3

•has scared the wind out of people before because she can be very quiet. It’s scary. One moment she’ll be in her research tent, and the next? She’ll be right beside you!

•has a HUGE spice tolerance.

•would absolutely love Halloween

•would also smack the shit out of you with a pillow if you woke her up before 8 AM.

(Okay, now it’s time for the big angst/hurt comfort guns)

•Dated someone else for a good 3 years (between ages 16 - 19) before she dated wambus, this said someone else was an absolute selfish piece of sh!t that would act like a full on narcissist, would hurt Triffany verbally and emotionally. Wambus kinda knew about the relationship and would BEG Triffany to leave them. As much as Triffany wanted to be with wambus, she kept getting manipulated by said ex to stay with them, so the first couple times wambus tried separating them, it didn’t work, but once Triffany realized that she was being used, she broke up with them and got with wambus. (Hehehehe, I’m gonna be such a sucka later, I HAVE ANGST LORE)

•Had trouble asking for assistance, expressing her true self, and relaxing due to said ex. After the whole shitshow, Wambus gave Triffany time to heal and recover. He didn’t want her to immediately jump into a relationship after just leaving one, an abusive one to be exact. It took about a month before Triffany was comfortable enough to date wambus, and about 20-25 years later, they’re happy married! (MAN I LOVE SELF PROJECTING)

•Has nights where she can’t sleep because the memories will just come creeping around the corner, and sometimes, it’s obvious; she’ll be trembling like a leaf while staring into space. Wambus already has an entire set of instructions memorized in his head on what to do in this situation, and is going to stay by his wife’s said no matter what.

#bugsnax #triffany lottablog #bugsnax triffany #wambus troubleham #lottaham #bugsnax headcanon #YALL PLEASE DONT KILL ME I WAS IN AN ANGSTY SELF PROJECTION MOOD TODAY #*aggresive screaming into the void* #oh and I have angst lore for wambus too #I have angst lore for EVERYONE

[error707-thatdude]

I wonder if my moots in the dqxi fandom would hate me if I classpected the characters

#i have many thoughts #no im not tagging either fandom lmao im not that bold #bee buzzes #been spinning some ideas very aggresively in my mind wahoo #screaming into the void

[manofmanymons]

Survive kids on twitter? (Sorry i just needed to ask someone this and i like asking things) or survive kids reacting to todays tumblr status or twitters political aggresiveness

(Example: vanilla extract)

I imagine Aoi being like my roommate and by that I mean she follows too many political accounts and makes herself sad scrolling through the tl every night. She has to delete the app for her mental health.

She eventually makes a new account but this time only follows lyric bots and accounts that post cute animals.

Minoru and Miu are both on fandom twitter but for very different fandoms. Minoru runs one of those gimmick accounts and none of his mutuals on main know it's him. Miu is 90% a shitposter and has no idea how she ended up with so many followers. Her tumblr is mainly original spooky short stories. People who follow both of her accounts think the difference in vibes is hilarious.

They both send memes in chat.

Saki starts out on "normal" twitter but slowly gets dragged into fandom twitter by the other two and gets super into following cosplay accounts. She posts more on insta whereas her twitter is full of rts.

Ryo follows like 50 "bug of the day" accounts. He, Takuma, and Kaito are all only on twitter because their friends forced them to be.

Takuma is Mr. Boring who makes posts like "had a sandwich for lunch today :)" He likes ALL of his friends' posts and leaves cute comments on them.

Kaito does not use his twitter. DRACMON, however—

(Well, he doesn't post anything, but Kaito is very sus of all of Miu’s online friends, and it takes a lot of self-control not to obsessively scroll through her page to keep an eye on them. He has personally asked Dracmon to slap him and take his phone away if he starts doing it.)

Shuuji and Akiharu run a Kemonogami blog together. They would have separate accounts but old man no technology goodly but still has a lot to say.

Shuuji also follows a lot of mental health blogs and sends advice he thinks is helpful to the squad gc.

Miyuki does not have a twitter ksjdn

They all also have priv accounts that they use exclusively to follow each other so they can scream their more personal or random thoughts into the void without any pressure for anyone to actually respond. Basically a way to talk to each other without gunking up the gc.

They block each other over petty stuff CONSTANTLY

I said it before but I'll say it again

Miu, Minoru, and Saki would make the vanilla extract cake

They all, as a group, have gotten in heated debates in their gc over tumblr polls.

Death threats were made over the snail race

#this is like a month old ask I am so sorry #i should start closing my ask box during exam season instead of leaving it open and ignoring it #digimon survive

[miraimisu]

Babe, let me request #48 please? (/ω＼)

I love this prompt to bits because, like, it’s such a flexible thingy? It has so much field to dig in and MAN ain’t I in for some ♥*-MINEDIGGING-*♥ – so yeah, galore with thy angst and get a grip on your nearest vodka bottle. 

Bakugou Katsuki was no friend of mistakes, misunderstanding or whatever the name one would have for it– but in that moment, he knew he had made a mistake.

A very big one.

He was now pacing all around his room, hands deep in his sweatpants’ pockets as he went around his dorm, his head shaking, rattling, telling him he had made the right choice– but man. wasn’t his heart crying inside his chest. The feeling of dread, regret and just… trying to imagine, without wanting to, how broken she had been after she was robbed of a wonderful night. It was all starting to eat him alive.

There was a pang in his heart that was, definitely, not going to survive this night. Uraraka had shown up at his dorm door, her hands shaking, unable to stop talking and beating around the bush. 

He had had to shush her with a glare and a twitching eye. “Uraraka, you’re making my head pound and you’ve been here for a fucking minute.”

“Oh, right!” she seemed to remember that the point of her visit was, and he swore there was this spark in her eye flatering each second he glared at her. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to crash in this late, so uh.. I was wondering…”

He leaned a bit forward to get the sentence out of her spluttering mouth, but she was taking her sweet time. Something big must be bothering her if she’s such a mess in front of him, someone she would be unfazed by and, actually, was constantly headbutting for a make up with Deku.

Again, like hell making nice would cut it– but again, that was off topic. Her hands racked behind her head as she racked for words that would convince him to follow her plan. “Well, you see…” she trailed off for a moment before snap suddenly almost pouncing on him and what the fuck “there is this party at the town center that everybody is going to! But you need to get yourself a partner if you want to go in for free and– and I don’t really have much money to afford such expensive ball and–”

“Hold the fuck on, a ball?” she nodded, scared of what atrocities he’d bark at her at the notion of suits, dressing up, and snobs hogging him with questions about heroism. However, his response was rather surprising. “And why aren’t you asking Deku instead?”

That startled her, because in no universe would this be a coherent answer that Bakugou would give to a party invitation. It caught her off-guard. “It’s not him who I wanna go with, and– and promised Tsuyu he’d go with her, so… I was expecting to go with you!”

His side leant against the doorframe, eyes darting around as he searched for somewhere to look that wasn’t her, her eyes, the way her lips had that straberry gloss that must taste deliciously good against his or her rosy cheeks. Anything else than her would be fine as long as she didn’t murmur a word while he pondered the consequences of going to a ball with her.

It could either go incredibly well and end the night with her tucked in his chest or end horribly wrong with him screwing up badly– like he always did. And he had long ago accepted that they didn’t belong together, that having feelings for her was wrong, wrong, very very wrong and going to that damn ball wouldn’t help his turmoil. 

So he looked at her and all his doubts vanished. She wanted to go with him, right? Of course Uraraka was intelligent and would have known the risks of going with a explosive, aggresive and over the top man to a ball, who had more traits as a villain than a hero but was defying fate anyway. In a way, the thought of her overseeing his flaws came across as rather endearing.

But the fear didn’t go away. So when he nodded curtly and spat at her to get the hell out of his corridor, even if she smiled dashingly at him, the troubling feeling of something not being right throbbed and writhed inside of him.

And when there was only half an hour until they had to part to the ball, Bakugou still say by his window, pajamas on and his suit forgotten in a corner of his closet. His heart was tight in fear’s grasp, trembling with the thought of screwing the night up– of fucking er up, of marking her memories of what could be a great night on her own with a sour reminder of what his company was.

And when Kirishima came to knock on his door, fear had barked at him to go away. When his best friend demanded to see him, frightening curses flew towards his friend. His troubling thoughts, banging against the walls of his whole being fought to keep him at bay. But when Kirishima eventually left the door, his footsteps fading out, he felt no relief.

There was no pleasure on the way Bakugou punched the nearest wall and started cursing at his shitty feelings for gravity girl, screaming because she was the first one to actually give his heart a reson to beat, give his mind something to think of when days were gray, and have something to treasure.

He was no longer the same boy.

And he was torn between deeming it a good or a bad thing, still struggling to find the answer to his ever lasting war.

Were those shitty feelings there to hold him back? Where they there to lift him up?

Then, a sharp image of her crying came to his mind. He knew that everyone was still gathered down at the hall, and Kirishima was probably telling her the news. He still had time to dress up and run to her side, be a good friend– be a good date. The walls around him remained silent, and five minutes later, time dragging on, everything around him remained silent, as if chiding them menatlly for his rash decision.

And, much to his inner surprise, nobody came around. No one came to him to tell him off for being a jerk, and no angry Uraraka came to his door to beat the shit out of him, like he had expected. Would he have given up, though? Honestly, he didn’t know.

By this time, Bakugou knew everyone was away at the party, and he was glad that Uraraka had found the bravery to go there despite everyone going with a date. He also assumed that she had someone to pay the entrance for her. 

But then… why wasn’t that nauseous feeling going away? She was good to go now, she didn’t need him for anything. Why was the thought so unpleasant for him to fidget with?

Maybe… maybe this wasn’t her fault. Maybe it was his for being so goddamn stupid, for being a coward, for being afraid of facing her.

He stood up from his pity bed, removed all his pajamas and scrambled into his neat tuxedo, his hair a mess and his emotions all over the place– still, the thought of her smiling, her laughing in his arms, sweeping her off her feet… it all filled him with a bubbly feeling of cheer and enthusiasm, his fear all forgotten in the spur of the rise.

His heart was soaring.

So he ran.

He ran, as fast as his feet could carry him, he was flying in the midst of a crowded city, the city lights brushing past him and his blazer swaying in his pace, people staring at him as his sick smirk widened with the thought of her being only his for the night. He was determined to make things right.

For once, Bakugou was set on making her feel like the queen she deserved to be.

When he got to the palace at the center of the town, he could hear soft classical music soothing all his senses into a lulling tempation to just limp and sway with the rythm of the night. There was chatter in the air, people talking heatedly, and he was aware of some people commenting on how wrinkled his shirt was, or how his hair was disheveled– heck, some fans actually kind of squealed upon seeing him at the party.

Bakugou quickly paid for the invitation fee and made his way in, running in between dressed up women with lots of make up and overly extra dresses. He could already picture his princess in a simple, red gawn, smiling when she saw him and squirming in his strong hold.

Bakugou flew upstairs and crossed the threshold to see his people, all in the same area, some chatting and some dancing somewhere else. His crimsom, heated irises scanned the crowd to find her; where was that little thing with  red gawn and–

Uraraka came to view, dancing in the arms of another man, distant laughter filling his ears and the feeling of her in his arms twinkled to disappear as he stared at her, unbelieving– she was smiling in the arms of another boy, sharing experiences with another person that wasn’t him, and suddenly, it dawned on him that he had been too late to the party.

She had found somebody else to dance with. He wouldn’t be the one to sweep her off her feet. Suddenly, he was alone, and she wouldn’t need him anymore.

Frowning, head down and tie too suffocating, Bakugou turned around and left the party before it had even began for him. The void in his stomach only widened the more steps he took home

And in his walk to the dorm where he’d end up thinking what went wrong, all conclussions pointed to the fact that he had made a mistake.

A very big one.

#request #kacchako #kacchako fanfiction #fanfiction #I AM SO SORRY THIS ENDED UP SO ANGSTY AND SHIT BUT OMG SORRY????

[outcrspvce]

*aggresively screams into the void* I AM GOING TO BE OKAY.

#i'm trying so hard to stay positive #that's what i need most

[pazvizslaplasmathrower]

A Father’s Duty - Chapter 48

Read here or on AO3!

Chapter 48: Hard Feelings

Summary: Have father/parent issues? Yeah? So do I. This is mostly for my own sanity, but i still hope people enjoy it. Each chapter is about 1k and a lil’ more. Mostly bc I have a short attention span and its easier to write that way for me.

Chapter summary: After a horrifying vision, Din decides to confront you, and Paz, finds use of extra time to craft something exceptional.

A/N: ASDFGHJKlL hope you guys like it! Also my requests are open for stuff so hmu! Please please comment, itd be cool to know how i’m doing

Word count: 2258

Bolting upright, Din forgot that the baby was clinging to his chest. Had those little claws not been clinging to his shirt, the little one would have gone flying from the bed. As he panted, sweat collecting in his helmet, his son, quite angry at the sudden awakening, murmured and blabbered aggresively, even baring those small teeth at him.

“S-Sorry, kid...Just...Just gimme a sec.”

Gently, he placed the child on the bed and hurried silently to the refresher, his heart pounding. With the door shut and locked, Din Djarin wasted no time in taking his helmet off, savoring the air that actually passed through his lips. Turning on the water, he washed his face vigorously, hoping he had just been dreaming. Looking at his reflection, the wild quality of his eyes was alarming, harkening back to his younger days. This was a new sort of fear, not for himself, or that of a comrade, but for the young ones under his care who could not properly care for themselves. Since waking, Din had the urge to go into the young one's quarters and see if his other child was indeed alright. Surely they had to be, he had Paz Vizsla watch over them and since everything was silent save his jarring waking, they were alright.

But what if they were not? Those images he could not expunge from his mind, the visions were so plainly clear as if the violence was happening right in front of him. His child was simply sitting, locked securely to a chair while someone hovered over them, doing something. Unfortunately, Din was too far off, and the scene kept shifting strangely. The Mandalorian would have simply written it off as yet another horrid dream until Beviin looked in his direction, locking eyes with him. Up until then, they had not been making a sound, keeping mostly limp, but when their head turned, that their indifference turned into sheer horror.

Taking a few, quick, desperate breaths, Din tried in vain to relax the tension plaguing his body, but not much came of his efforts. For now, he would just have to keep it to himself until morning when the rest of his clan was awake. Waking and questioning Beviin would only serve to make them frightful. Wiping away another fresh layer of sweat from his brow, Din fit his helmet back on and retreated back to his bed. For certain they would talk in the morning. Damn him if he were to let them  face the dangers of the world alone. He would be there by his side whether they liked it or not.

***___***___***

Awkwardly, you jerked involuntarily, waking at once head coming up to smack against something hard.

“Kark!” You yelped, hands moving to rub the throbbing spot. “Gah! That hurt!” Falling back on the bed, you looked to see the form of a Mandalorian, and judging by the size it was certainly not your father.

“You were having a nightmare, I believe.” He said nonchalantly. “I was checking to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh...Wait, why the hell were you watching me while I was sleeping?” Incredulous, you tried squinting to see if Paz Vizsla was showing any bodily emotions.

“Your father asked that I made sure you were alright. He suspected something was the matter and by the looks of it, he was right.”

Sighing, you messaged your temples, already feeling tired despite having just woken. “Great. Fantastic. That's just what need!”

Paz simply looked on as you went on a brief tirade in a language he could not understand. Part of you wanted to scream at the man, demanding he leave you in peace. But he had gone out of his way to ensure your safety.

“I know it is far easier said than done, but it is in your best interest to try and calm yourself.”

“Yeah!” You growled, gritting your teeth. “I do kriffing know that!”

The Mandalorian watched you take ragged breaths before reaching behind himself to grab something. Though your vision was far from adequate, his movements captured your attention, was he going to give you something to  mitigate your anxiety?

“Since I didn't sleep last night, I thought I would try to make up for what I took from you.” Was there a slight crack in his voice or was that simply the modulator in his helmet?

“Um, what do you mean, you haven't taken anything from me...”

Paz Vizsla produced an item before you, the object resting in both hands. Though, given your damaged eyes, all you could make out was a dark blur of sorts.

“What do you think” His deep voice asked.

Pursing your lips, you scratched your head. “Um, I don't know what it is. I can't exactly see it.”

You could feel a sense of unease course through the man in front of you before it settled. Since when were you able to feel Paz's emotions? His presence withing the Force had been so  heavily guarded, for the longest time you had no way of identify his feelings except by analyzing his voice. That too tended to be unremarkably flat and void of inflections, though when it came to your father his voice tended to become rather loud.

“Ah, yes I should have known. Here lay your hands out flat.”

Nodding, you heeded his word, letting your hands lay out. In a moment you could feel something light and cool settle against your skin. Tentatively, you examined the object with your fingers, noting the two circular forms connected by some flexible metal and a long strap.

“Are these goggles” You asked, at once being more gentle with the piece.

The Mandalorian grunted in agreement. “Yes. I know more than just how to shoot a blaster, you know. Here, let me help.”

Holding completely still, you shut your eyes, allowing him to take the goggles from your hands and slip them around your head. He made sure you knew to tell him if he fastened them too tight as he secured the strap tautly. The sensation of the frames around your eyes was new, not awful, but certainly not comfortable.

“Come on, young one...Open your eyes.”

Your heart began to beat faster. And very slowly, you did as the Mandalorian asked. At once, light flooded your vision, the grand warrior appearing before you so perfectly, you could make out even the tiniest dents in his prized Beskar. Now your perception was flawless, as if you had never been wounded to begin with.

“I-I...I'm-I don't know what to say.” In an effort to see if this was real, you squeezed your eyes shut and opened them, but this was your new reality.

“You do not have to say anything, little one. This is how I try to right my wrong.”

Shaking your head, you wondered if all Mandalorians like Paz and your father were so honorable. “I did try to kriffing kill you.”

He hummed in reply. “That you did but was it of your own volition?”

“No.”

He leaned forward, inspecting how well your new goggles fit and looked. “These are beyond ordinary.” Paz tapped the side of his helmet. “There are buttons on the sides you should familiarize yourself with, settings so you should be able to see in nearly any condition imaginable. It should also be able to withstand the gamut of elements, but for Maker's sake please do not go out of your way to be reckless with them.”

Pressing the small buttons on the side, you could see Paz was right, he had expertly equipped these for anything one could imagine.

“Holy hell...How did you make these?!”

Standing, Paz Vizsla offered you his hand and he gently helped you to your feet. “Patience and time, little one.”

***___***___***

While Din was bushed and even a bit frazzled, his son was quite invigorated after his morning bath, flailing about and chewing anything those tiny mitts could snatch. Leaving his quarters with the baby in his arms, he sluggishly dragged himself to the main corridor, lamenting rest he was denied yet again. But this fatigue did not last long, for, upon entering, he came upon a peculiar scene. Alert and focused, his oldest child sat, legs crossed and tucked in front of them. Their head was held high, concentrating on the datapad held in front of them by Paz Vizsla.

“Now,” Paz swiped the screen, a single word appearing. “Read this to me. At your own pace of course.”

His voice simply radiated such a mellow nature, Din was sure this had to either be a facade or those mushrooms from the Lost Woods truly obliterated his mind. Then there was the kid, who-Wait.

“Hm...B-Bes'laar.”

“Which means...?”

“Music!” Beviin almost cheered, the scars on their face stretching with their smile.

“What the hell is on your face.”

Beviin's head snapped to attention, looking upon Din for only a moment with great melancholy. Before they could answer, Paz stood to his full height, regarding him carefully.

“That's no way to greet them. Right, A'dika?”

His kid forced a smile, jumping to their feet, hands going to pull at the hem of their tunic. “Look what he made me, Buir. I can see now!”

It took him far too long to process the entirety of the situation than he liked to admit, a good portion of that time was spent staring at the child, then testing to make sure it was true and not some sort of elaborate prank to be pulled since he was in a state of intense fatigue. But, no. Their new vision was indeed very real.

“And he started teaching me to read again! M' not very good, but it's a start...again.”

Din handed the little one off to Paz, he would have to thank at some damned point, but as to how he had no idea. Kark that bastard! At this rate he would be in his debt until the end of time.

“Could you get the child something to eat? He's been chewing on my clothes ever since he woke up.”

The other Mandalorian nodded, turning to face Beviin who look at him desperately for a moment. “We'll practice again later, I promise.”

Their ears drooped when they were finally alone, Din deciding how best to address the subject at hand. By how vigorously Beviin was tapping their foot, he assumed they had the same dream last night.

“So...Can I go get something to eat or-”

“No.” Din's voice came out harsher than he intended, causing the poor kid to wince.

Beviin huffed. “Well if you're gonna say something then kriffing say it!”

Clenching his fists, it wasn't like he could exactly blame them for this attitude. His inability to initiate the conversation was only adding to the building suspense.

“Kriff, you know what.” Taking in a deep breath Din hoped Beviin would level with him. “I had a dream last night.”

“O-Oh.”

“I know you saw me, A'dika. You have to tell me when something is wrong. You told me you would!”

There was no snarky remark or declaration of profanity, nor incoherent outburst. Instead, Beviin's lower lip began to tremble, face fighting desperately to maintain its neutrality. The fight didn't last long, for within a matter of seconds, they groaned in agony, hands reaching up to grab their hair in frustration.

“I-I don't know what to do!” They wailed. “It's not kriffing fair! Stupid kriffing space wizards giving me their kriffing problems!”

Beviin took one of their fists slamming it heavily against the durasteel wall, regretting it immediately, clutching their throbbing hand.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mando cautiously moved over, grabbing his child's wrists so they would stop flailing about with reckless abandon.

“Lemme go, you metal head!” They growled, trying hard to wrestle out of his grip. Without their powers and in this distressed state, Beviin's strength was incredibly easy to ward off. In fact, he did not have to do much to keep them from getting away.

“It's alright...I'm here...Just let it all out...There we go.”

He waited patiently, speaking to the child calmly as they sobbed and tried controlling their ragged breathing, the wheezing eventually becoming soft. Satisfied that they would not lash out again, Din let go, letting Beviin remove their goggles and wipe away the mess of tears that had welled up inside.

“Kark,” the young one mumbled, “I told myself I wasn't gonna cry anymore...”

“Sometimes, it can't be helped, little one.” Affectionately, he nudged their chin, thankful when a genuine smile drew up the sides of their mouth. “I need to know what's upsetting you, alright?”

Beviin puffed their cheeks and let out a breath of air.

“Please, if anything happened to you-”

“Well what if something happens to you?!” The kid's voice nearly broke, but they steeled themself

“Then I really need to know.” Din stated rather bluntly.

They took a few seconds, adjusting their goggles, doing anything to stall. “How much did you see in the dream?”

“All of it...Until, y'know.”

“Kark, 'course you did...”

They lifted their gaze to Din. He couldn't see their eyes nowthe m guarded and enhanced by the gold-tinted lenses. Not being able to truly gauge their emotions was indeed unsettling.

“Fine. But you're not gonna believe it.”

#sw #star wars #star wars saga #fic #ficiton #fanfic #fanfiction #mando #mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandolorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fic #paz vizsla #paz vizla