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fandsart · 1 year

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Steve whose parents are scrooge level extreme capitalists who don't believe that children should be allowed to "freeload" off their parents.

Steve whose dad pushes him into sports to eventually make something of himself and earn what little he is provided with.

Steve whose mom makes Steve maintain the house while they're away instead of hiring a housekeeper.

Steve whose parents are scrooge level extreme capitalists who pinch pennies even when they have so much money already.

Steve whose dad who doesn't pay for heating and cooling if he's away for long enough.

Steve who sometimes won't have access to warm water for months at a time.

Steve whose mom gives limited allowances for food, but is the level of rich that she's never really checked for prices herself and so underestimates how much things cost.

Steve who himself must pinch his pennies.

Steve whose parents are obsessed with appearances.

Steve whose mom who is sends clothes every now and then. The most stiff and respectable items on the market.

Steve who can't afford to waste money on clothes he actually wants because of his limited budget.

Steve whose dad sends a house inspector at least once a month if he's away for longer than a full one to make sure Steve has in fact been keeping up on it.

Steve who sometimes has to waste some of his precious money on cleaning supplies for the house.

Steve back in high school sitting there like ;-; while Eddie goes on a tabletop rant about how rich boy Steve could never understand what it's like to race in the shower with the water boiler to finish before the heat runs out, or what it's like to regularly skip meals to save money for clothes that are both actually comfortable and stylistically preferable.

Steve who took a cold shower that morning, and is now wearing the itchiest and ugliest thing left in his wardrobe because he needs to buy detergent which is why he skipped lunch that day ;-;

Steve whose always been teased for his big-ass house and his pool and these luxuries that surround him that he honestly has very few positive experiences with. Steve not realizing until that very moment that he, himself, is not actually all that financially stable at all.

Steve having an existential crisis in the middle of the day in the Hawkins High cafeteria

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington angst #steddie prompt #<- I guess #steve harrington's parents #fandsart

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lemony-snickers · 1 year

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"you are the only one who's ever broken me open."

"do not scream god's name, scream mine."

"please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

"your heart is beating so fast." "because i'm happy."

"i want to draw a map of your scars so i can always find my way back to your heart."

"i don't believe in such nonsense." "i'm not asking you to. i'm simply asking that you believe in me."

"is that good? that's all i want, to make you feel good."

"it reminded me of you. but then, sometimes i think everything reminds me of you."

"what a fragile thing, that love can so easily turn to violence."

"why are you doing this?" "because i love you."

"it didn’t feel right when I was always thinking of you."

"i would have felt like the luckiest person on the planet."

"are you gonna take that off or should i keep guessing?"

"i wanted this to be special."

"i can't believe... after all this time... i should have known it would be you."

"i want to be wildly, deliriously happy. wildly, deliriously loved."

"i try always to be too much for you."

"the sooner i leave, the sooner i will return and we can begin again."

"i didn't die." "you were dead to me."

"i don't care if other people see us together, you do."

"and you say i'm the one who should be resting."

"i'm sorry." "for what?" "that you got stuck with me."

"what makes you happy?" "lots of things." "and what makes you unhappy?" "lots of other things and some of the same ones."

"i wish i could give you the world." "the world is not enough. but you are."

"i have never needed anything so much as i need you. and i hate you for it."

#lemony snippets #writing prompts #fanfic writing prompts #smut prompts #romance prompts #angst prompts #i mean i guess they are prompts if you ignore how bad most of them area ;dlsjfasdf #idk here are a bunch of horrible half-formed pieces of things i have written but have either never finished or will never publish #for some other more talented person(s) to utilize as they see fit should they so choose #anyway yeet #this is a queued post #as is almost everything these days lol #gosh re-reading this stuff is so cringe-y help asdasdf

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brekitten · 1 month

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Bruce doesn't dream.

He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.

And yet.

The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.

The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.

(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)

This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.

He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.

Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.

Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.

He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.

He can't help but think of his own children.

Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.

Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -

Bruce wakes.

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2smolbeans · 6 months

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Yandere Prompt Idea:

A darling victim becomes self aware of how their yandere truly views them as. How they were just an object for their life, a solution to fill in the hole. They hate it. They want to be seen as a person, as a genuine friend for their yandere. It just hurts so much for them since..All those years, those intimate warm moments, all those late night talks- couldn't just be for the sake of manipulating them into a romantic relationship right? It had to be genuine. The whole time, the person they knew- couldn't just be a fake mask underneath.

Right?

"You see me as this 'thing'..I'm not. I am a person. I have feelings. I have complex thoughts. I have FLAWS."

Their voice cracked as their body folded- back hunched over as they pleaded frantically.

"I'm a somebody right?! I'm not just something for your big little game am I? You do about me care right?! You..Please..You do, don't you?"

Their hands desperately clawed onto their own scalp, applying pressure as their fingers interwinded with the strands of hair- squeezing hard.

"That's not all I am right?"

_________________________

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompt #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere thoughts #yandere writing #yandere ideas #male yandere x reader #female yandere x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere idea #yandere scenarios #angst #yandere angst #oh god..Guess what I thought of #I am a surgeon..I AM- I AM A SURGEON!!

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andtheyreonfire · 25 days

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"came back wrong" but with g/t. bringing someone back to life--or finding someone you thought long dead--but in a far different form. i need the desperation in either party not recognizing the other. the fear that comes from realizing this isn't the person you lost, either because they're too massive to be anything but monstrous or too tiny to be anything but inhuman. i need the conflict that comes from trying to figure this out, or from accepting the person you've lost is forever changed.

on the giant side, like--imagine watching someone you know being frankensteined back to life, only the "ideal form" the team of scientists have chosen is impossibly massive. in some fantasy setting, imagine finding a lost party member claimed and given "new life" by some natural spirit. but--be they claimed by the fae, an odd type of infection, or the will of the forest itself--any humanity has been completely stolen from them, including their new, towering size. imagine a ritual to bring a loved one back gone wrong as they are transported back in an inhuman state--or you are transported to the realm of the spirits, and are given a painful awakening of the true scale of what lies outside our world. from the giant's perspective--either from a fantastical scenario or just an i-died-and-came-back-with-size-shifting-powers thing--they're either pleading with the person grieving for them, going hey, look at me, i'm here, i haven't changed at all, please look up. or, they're simply wondering why this tiny, chittering thing at their feet is so adamant that they know them, if they regard them peacefully at all.

on the tiny's side, there's perhaps even more of a sense of loss, as the revived is faced with a loss of power. someone's soul could be shucked into a homunculus doll, brought back either at the request of a loved one, or simply cursed into this form. maybe said loved one doesn't even recognize them, simply curious as to why this shop has a perfect replica of their deceased on a dusty shelf. some clause could exist for ripping people's soul from the beyond, one that forces any revived person into a smaller, weaker form. be it the laws of balance, the size of a sacrifice/summoning circle, or any other magical mishap, the necromanced is left with all the size and life of a broken action figure. in some tamer scenario, the only heartbreaking change could be the revived's own fear. it doesn't matter if they're not physically a doll, or if their soul is bound to an object. they don't want to be manipulated. there's a terror in suddenly having power, losing your life, and coming back with absolutely nothing. their loved one simply wants them to stop looking at them as if they'll harm their re-gifted life.

be it an actual necromancy, or just a shift or transformation, give me the fear of change. the loss of identity. an external threat exacerbating an internal. fear of power, or lack thereof. yeagh

#i've been trying to figure out how to phrase this for so long #does this make sense. i feel like i'm being pretentious #i i like it when the gu y is changed into an even BIGGER buy. or SMALLerthey should do that more often #g/t #giant/tiny #the beast speaks #g/t prompts #g/t angst #g/t fearplay #i guess

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lettucefather · 1 year

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Prompt: "I hate that you understand me."

I mobified this prompt in my brain. I'll polish it one day but you've waited long enough already, so here you have a little something

#tysm for the prompt btw ♡♡♡♡#lettuce art tag #mp100 #serizawa katsuya #shigeo kageyama #angst #<- i guess!#prompt

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quinn-pop · 7 months

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mtdd week day 6 - flustered

just a post romk scene

in all these years you’ve never…

#mtddweek2023 #this is the only prompt i used a script i already had drafted #the whole thing is actually about 6k words this is just one bit i particularly like #don’t you just hate it when the guy you dislike so much you stage a coup against him finally shows a sign he cares about other people #anyway maybe ill clean the script up one of these days idk #kirbyposting #my art or something #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #this definitely doesn’t have to be a romantic thing but i think the amount of strong feelings happening on dedede’s end is enough #revenge of meta knight #i guess #quinn does comics #angst? light angst? does this warrant a tag uhh #<- i know this will do nothing as is #let me know if you need anything

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

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Hey, who wants a really dark and morbid prompt filled with angst? Well buckle up or scroll away cause I'm about to hit yall with a hammer. You have been warned.

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Danny had slowly come to hate his human side. Well, humanity in general usually left a poor taste in his mouth, so as the weeks passed and the end of his sophomore year inched closer he made a decision. He was going to live his afterlife in the ghost zone. Probably go so far as to fake his death.

Things go south when his bio-dad showed up and he would have been stoked to learn his bio-dad was Batman if it wasn't for his insistence on "fixing" him. He wanted to be less human not more. Geez.

Turns out his bio-mom was that one lady with the long dark hair and green eyes that would smile at him from the shadows while he was patrolling as Phantom. He liked her. Sometimes she waved at him. He liked her a little less for siccing Batman on him. She had called him in out of worry for thier "son"

As it turns out, the reason she did that was because the source of his power (he pointed out it was called a core) was absorbing too much power too quickly and was at risk of overheating and having a meltdown, something akin to a nuclear reactor. He didn't like where this was going. Frostbite had said everything was fine at his last check-up, but no one was listening to him (another thing he hated about being human. As a ghost he was respected, or at least listened to) "So, what? I'm going on vacation?"

The "adults" looked at eachother. "Something like that." Nightwing gave a reassuring smile that only seemed to unnerve Danny more. They were hiding something and Danny had a bad feeling that it was going to end up making him miserable in some way.

He made sure that his friends and sister (meeting his bio parents changed nothing. She would always be the best big sister he would ever have. The only big sister!) knew where he was going and for how long and to raise holy hell if he wasn't back on time. After that we went willingly with Batman onto the batjet.

This turned out to be a mistake as he woke up nearly two months later completely human. Well, ok. Not quite. His eyes still glowed green whenever he was angry or distressed, like now. But his core and all his powers were gone.

Batman had stolen his powers from him. He had stolen Phantom from him. Everything he ever worked for. All the treaties he had made and signed in preparation for his coronation to the Ghost Zones throne, all the grueling training Pandora and the others gave him to controlling his powers, every flunked class and detention from having to run out and deal with a ghost, his shattered dreams of being an astronaut, everything he had done and sacrificed since the accident now meant nothing.

All because of some rich megalomaniac billionaire wanting to control him. Figures. He had the audacity to act suprised when he blew up at him. His powers where such a huge part of him. It was one of the few parts of himself that he actually liked. And Bruce had the nerve to give him the "superpowers aren't everything" speech. How condescending could someone be?!

The insinuation that he could be one of his flightless birds (oh God he would never fly through the nights sky again would he?!) and should be greatful about it was frankly insulting.

So he did what he did best. Escape. Except they caught him. Every. Single. Time. Was this a mansion or a prison? Honestly he wasn't sure anymore. Where was Jazz and his friends?

He cursed aloud when he realized they didn't have any way of tracking him without him being a ghost. He really was on his own with his kidnappers huh. And they were trying really hard to inflict some Stockholm syndrome, but didn't like it when he made the insinuation out loud.

They tried everything in thier power to keep him there "until you're better" and he couldn't tell you how many times they've busted down the door to reach him before it was "too late". Many locks throughout mansion were removed because of this. Too bad for them there was a lot of ways a normal human could "Go Ghost". It was a reoccurring joke that was slowly driving Bruce insane. Good. Suffer.

He really wished Nightwing would stop coming into his room at night to hug him though. The hugs were long and uncomfortable and he kept trying to talk to him. Weird. He acted like death was something to fear.

Too bad he wasn't going to make it easy for them. He had managed to slip away from the purple girl long enough to set two of the libraries on fire (a fact the estranged Wayne child was later furious about when he found out) and make a run for it. He actually managed to steal the batmobile and get a few miles out of the city before he was caught and recaptured. Danny never gave up though. He always found a new way to raise hell and escape.

He was going to become a ghost again.

One way or another.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #tw: depression #tw: suicide #tw: implied suicide attempts #dark #suicide #implied suicide attempts #he plans to raise from the grave #so silver lining i guess #angst #this is much darker than usual and i even cut out a lot of things so it wouldnt be nearly as dark as it started as #please dont @ me if you dont like it

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aduckwithears · 7 months

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I don’t know if this is a fic prompt or just angst or what but I’m thinking about a lockdown style audio/video following the events of s2 and it’s just a close up on Crowley’s phone sitting on the backseat of the Bentley as Aziraphale leaves progressively longer and more frantic voice messages. Feel free to flesh this out in whatever way makes you hurt the best.

#sorry I guess #this was the sad thing I was thinking about earlier today #good omens s2 #good omens fic prompt #ineffable breakup #ineffable divorce #good omens 2 #gos2 #a duck talks #good omens angst #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley #good omens

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star-vibing-prompts · 9 months

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"Whoever said that you were in control hm?"

"Wait...what-"

"That's right, me darling."

#otp prompts #smut prompts #fluff prompts #betrayal prompts #< i guess #angst prompts #< kinda #story prompts #story writing #story prompt #story ideas #star prompts #vibe prompts

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

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a protective villain with a very Very oblivious hero possibly?

“Your knuckles…” the hero said. The villain turned around — fast enough to make their cape flap — and stared at the nemesis in their lair. Their wounds only healed slowly but the villain supposed they were doing better by the hour. However, they hid their curious and worried thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” they hissed, aggressive enough to promise the hero’s departure but as so often, the hero didn’t leave. They actually did the opposite of what they were supposed to do. They came closer.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re hurt,” the hero said softly.

“No shit.” The villain turned around again, their back towards their enemy. This was embarrassing. Not only had the hero found a way into their lair, no, they’d also found the villain in a vulnerable position. Even if it was just their knuckles.

“Hey, your joint capsules could be very damaged, or your bones—”

“Thanks,” the villain muttered but it was harsh and mean. What they’d done was pure evil.

“I’m trying to help you,” the hero said. They sounded frustrated. Slightly shaking voice, short breath…

“You broke into my lair.”

“You looked upset yesterday.”

“And someone beat the living shit out of you yesterday.” For the last time, the villain turned around. As they looked into the hero’s eyes, they saw confusion but above all that…shock. The loud tone was probably what had scared them. Now, the villain felt bad for that, too. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“I don’t understand. What did you do?”

The villain took in a deep breath. They closed their eyes but all it did was to bring up the violent scenes from this morning.

“The one who attacked you yesterday was a villain, right?” they asked. They observed the blood on their knuckles briefly.

“Yeah, a friend of yours, they say.”

“My best friend,” the villain corrected quietly, not whispering yet. It hurt to think about them, it hurt to talk about this. The villain was probably in shock, too. They didn’t really know, they just wanted everything to be over soon. “I killed them this morning.”

“…what?”

“I killed them. They’re gone. They won’t hurt you anymore.” They watched as the hero swallowed and they knew exactly what they were thinking. Monster.

It was true. Murder is one of the very few things that isn’t exactly justifiable. The villain was a monster. And for what? Love?

This was pathetic. The villain didn’t quite feel the guilt yet but they knew it would come and dip the next few months in complete darkness. It would be a very cold winter.

“Why did you do it?” the hero asked, cautiously as if they were afraid something like that would happen to them too.

“I’m a villain. It’s what I do,” the villain said and their voice was so bitter it was almost unbearable to listen to.

Somehow, the hero couldn’t believe that reasoning, though.

#I love my bestie dw #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #angst #i guess?

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notemaker · 3 months

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Okay so Sonic Prime was basically a weird game of seven minutes in heaven, right? Kissing may not have been involved but everything else sure was.

#Sonic prime: ends #Sonic & Shadow: So I guess that character development never happened huh.#NUH UH-#we got...so much sweet sweet character and relationship development #no way im letting that go #srls. on so many levels #not just sonic and shadow #but obv they had a pretty interesting role #thank u prime for not making shadow a one-facet angst prompt generator #they gave him JOKES #they gave him SASS #and most of all they gave him a very vivid sense of protection #which? made me scream. because FINALLY.#god. thats what he was made for. thats what shadow is sort of ABOUT #and sonic prime really went and gave him the role of..well. sonics shadow. lol.#NOT derogary in meaning. just that he covered the spaces where sonic had trouble with #man their relationship is so interesting #especially in this version of themselves that prime has given them #id watch so many episodes worth of this.#anyway. tags #my art #art post #sonic #shadow #sonic prime #sonadow #am I wrong #sonic prime spoilers #sonic spoilers #sonic prime season 3

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jankwritten · 3 months

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Jasico Bingo Challenge: Comfort Food

Jason has just managed to slump onto the bench at table one for lunch when, seemingly from thin air, a brownie materializes before him.

He stares down at it. It is smooth along the top, ribboned with cracks like all the best brownies he’s ever had in his life.

He imagines this is how Tantalus feels. To be so close to something he wants so bad, knowing that he won’t be able to reach it, not really. That he can try all he wants, but surely wherever the brownie appeared from, it will just as fast disappear if he reaches for it.

Jason, unfortunately, has a lifetime’s worth of training in not reaching for it.

Moving over so the temptation isn’t directly before him, Jason pulls forward his empty plate and, with a pitiful sigh, summons the lunch he’s eaten every day since he turned ten.

The brownie follows him.

Jason tries not to notice, because, frankly, admitting he’s being haunted by a pastry is a step too far, even for his standards. He does not notice when a brownie shows up on his nightstand after he’s had a hard time breathing in a normal pattern. (It’s not a panic attack.) He does not notice when a brownie appears beside the ambrosia one of the Apollo kids tried to give him. (He doesn’t need it, he’s fine.) He looks the other way when a brownie shows up on the napkin he’s handed for s’mores at the campfire. (He can’t eat the s’mores either.)

He can handle it. He can handle the constant, demanding temptation. He will not succumb to it, gods dammit, he’s stronger than whatever fucked up test the fates are throwing at him. If this is one of his Herculean tasks, so be it. Jason will endure.

Nico throws himself to the ground at Jason’s side. Peleus, around the other side of Thalia’s Pine, snorts.

Jason simply shuts his book and directs his attention to the dramatic lump of Hades spawn at his hip. “Yes?”

“You keep disappearing,” Nico mutters. “I’m exhausted.”

Something warm and fluttery beats into Jason’s chest. “You were looking for me?”

Nico lifts his head up just enough to give Jason a flat, dead look. Then, he flops back over.

Jason tries not to be too pleased. Nico was looking for him, which means Nico was actively seeking him out, and by his lack of urgency, it doesn’t seem like it was for anything more than hanging out. They’re friends now, or to the point where Nico will admit they’re friends, but Jason is still getting used to Nico showing up around him to just…be around him. Sure, with the others it makes sense - Percy loves getting attention from his friends, and Piper and Leo demand his attention so they can all three silently sit together in a room doing their own thing. Nico is more distant, to put a name on it. He’s fiercely loyal and everything, Jason knows Nico’s always got his back, but he’s not really the kind of guy who likes to hang out.

When he does, though, of his own volition? It feels pretty damn nice.

Which is why Jason feels so awful when he looks down to his book on his plaid picnic blanket, and spots a fucking brownie, innocent and perfect on a pristine napkin.

His stomach turns. He closes his eyes immediately and tilts his head up to breathe.

Gods. Not a fucking second goes by that he’s not being tested.

“What’s wrong?”

Jason reopens his eyes to the foliage overhead - the pine needles are lush and thick, dappling the sunlight enough to create comfortable shade. He inhales, and exhales. “You ever get the feeling the gods are screwing with you, specifically, on purpose?”

Nico scoffs. “Yes. All the time.”

Jason peeks down at him and, though he does smile, it fades fast. He sighs, tilting his head all the way back to the tree trunk.

The tone of hanging out shifts and Jason feels pathetic about it. Nico sits up.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing, you- tell me.”

It really feels like nothing, compared to what Nico’s been put through. A stupid brownie sitting in his peripherals for the last three days has nothing on walking through Tartarus, getting kidnapped by Giants, and being held prisoner in a fucking jar.

Nico puts a hand on his shoulder. Jason feels infinitely worse.

“Whatever it is, you can trust me, Jason, seriously. I’m here for you.”

Burying himself alive sounds like a decent option. “You could just open up a crack in the ground, frankly,” Jason says.

Nico, unfortunately, only looks more concerned.

Jason supposes if there’s anyone to begrudgingly admit the brownie haunting to, it would be the boy who can summon ghosts. Who is unfortunately also the most likely to be offended that Jason sees this as a fucking trial. Gods dammit.

“Jason-”

“Brownies keep showing up everywhere I go!” Jason blurts out, before Nico can start any more well meaning, heart rending shit. Jason buries his face in his hands. “Which would be fine because I like brownies, but I can’t- it’s like they’re trying to trick me, like someone’s got a sick vendetta against me, or, like, the gods are trying to teach me to not give in to what I want!”

Nico’s stretching silence is, frankly, not reassuring in the slightest.

Jason hunches down further and waits for the retreat. For Nico to say something soft but cutting about how he has to handle real problems while Jason gets chased around by fucking dessert foods.

This is it: the most humiliating moment in his life.

“You…can’t eat brownies?”

“No,” Jason says, muffled. “I’m allergic to fucking tree nuts.”

More horrific silence. Here he is, Jason Grace, whining that his hardest trial in life is a fucking nut allergy.

Nico’s hand moves from his arm. Jason’s stomach sinks to the pits of the Underworld.

“I had no idea,” Nico says, under his breath. “Since when?”

Jason lifts his head back up, though he refuses to open his eyes. His face is hot like a sunburn. “I think since I was a kid? I-I forgot, y’know, with the amnesia, but I would get these awful stomach aches after eating stuff, and I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe right and- I talked to Frank about it a few months ago and he told me I was probably allergic to something. Reyna confirmed it.”

“Oh,” Nico says.

Jason, hating himself deep in his lungs, looks at his friend. One of his best friends. Likely about to be ex-friend.

Nico looks…constipated.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Jason says in a rush. “I made it sound really serious and it wasn’t, it’s nothing like, you know, bad, it’s only annoying. I mean- it really sucks, y’know, this thing I love keeps appearing but I don’t know if I can trust it to not make me sick, and it’s like- like some god out there knows all that. It just sucks.” He’s such a loser, isn’t he.

“Jason,” Nico says, again in that soft, almost pitying tone. “It’s- It’s not a god.”

“What?”

Nico swallows, and shuffles around on the blanket. He folds up his legs, and then tangles his hands together and looks down at them.

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d say Nico almost looked…

“I’ve been the one sending you brownies. I know you like them, uhm, and I wanted to help you feel better. Cheer you up, I guess.”

…guilty.

Nico looks back up at him, through his eyelashes, then immediately back down. “I didn’t know you were allergic,” he says. “I-I’m really- I’m so sorry.”

“You’re the brownie ghost?”

This time, Nico looks up with fluttering eyelids, a confused wrinkle to his brow.

Jason stares back at him as his stomach launches back up from underground, as his chest squeezes and his shoulders lift, “you’re the brownie ghost!”

“I, uhm, sorry?”

There was no god taunting him! No awful portent of an oncoming apocalypse! Just a misguided friend trying to do something nice, oh, gods, Jason could touch the clouds right now.

Nico was being sweet! To him!

“Are you mad at me?” Nico asks.

Jason only barely refrains from bear hugging him. “No! Nico, gods, no, I-I thought- I mean, you heard what I thought, but- you were trying to cheer me up?”

“I really didn’t know.”

“No, I know you didn’t. I know you wouldn’t do that. Oh my gods, that is such a relief, you don’t even know. I was so freaked out-” Jason stops himself, catches the pinched up look on Nico’s face. “It was a really, really nice thing, with context.

Nico doesn’t look totally convinced, but he drops his shoulders, relaxes his fingers. “I’m still sorry.”

“Already forgiven.” Jason looks down at the brownie again, and laughs. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

He doesn’t have to look to know Nico’s ears are red, to know he’s shaking his head to himself either in disbelief, or an attempt to shake off the compliment. But it’s true, no matter what Nico tells himself. He’s incredible.

“Whatever,” Nico mutters. Then, after a moment, he slumps all the way back to the ground, and sprawls.

Jason tosses the brownie to Peleus and dusts the crumbs off on Nico’s shirt.

When Nico cracks an eye open to glare at him, Jason grins, with one last petty swipe of his hand.

(Later that night, after the campfire, Jason settles into his cabin, still smiling about how silly he’d been. When he rolls onto his side, there is a brownie on his nightstand, lit by the yellow glow of the only lamp.

Written on the napkin, in shaky, unpracticed handwriting, it says, “no nuts. I triple checked.”

Jason has never eaten anything faster in his life.)

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #comfort food #fanficiton #tw food aversion #but it's due to allergy so does it really count #LISTEN!!! I just thought it would be silly and cute. nico noticed when Jason is feeling down and tries to do a small thing to cheer him up #something that he doesn't have to take credit for and can make Jason happy in peace #which backfires HORRIBLY because Jason doesn't talk about himself and Nico doesn't like long conversations at all #so allergies never came up #and Jason thinks he's just. cursed.#when in fact. his best friend is just learning how to love him #frankly i'm just taking these prompts and doing my best to subvert them I guess LMFAO #like this is supposed to be about comfort foods. which for Jason would be brownies.#but instead i made him unable to eat them. so they are discomfort food. >:)#angst food #anyway #jasico #jason grace #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo

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factorialsotherfandoms · 7 months

Text

It's too hot, but Forever's blood runs cold. His weapons are nothing in the face of the hoard, but he has been running for hours. He lost sight of Walter Bob maybe twenty minutes ago, and he hopes the Federation Worker is running in another direction.

Fuck, fuck, Pac and Mike will never forgive him if something happened to Walter Bob.

(Pac and Mike are welcome to never forgive him, if only he gets to see them - to see see any of his family - again.)

He turns a corner and knocks over some loose rocks and while Cucurucho told him to prepare there was /nothing/ he could have done to prepare for this. Maybe he should have told Baghera or Aypierre or Philza, been more specific when asking for advice, but with Richars - all the eggs - on the line... Forever made his choice.

(He remembers when Felps was taken. Is anyone even worried? Do his friends, his family, miss him? He was so worried back then, is he doing now to Felps what was once done to him?)

The monsters are not slowed by the pathetic clattering of rocks.

Forever made his choice, and he will lie in it.

Maybe literally. He brought as many totems as he could carry with him, but he used so many. Explosions are his primary weapon right now, but the monsters stay so so close. All he can do is run, and run, and hope he both finds some clues and /does not/ lead the monsters to the eggs.

(Cellbit and Bagi would be so much better at this. They'd have already found the clues, sorted it all out, be headed home already. They-)

He is caught on the arm.

He rips it away, tearing the flesh.

He gasps, throws a potion, and keeps running.

He has to get away, find fix this, find the eggs. He has to - he has to - the islanders put their faith in /him/ by electing him president, and now he has a responsibility to fix this for them. He'll fix it, he'll fix everything, he doesn't need to get out, he just needs to make everyone happy.

(He wants to see Richars again. Just once. If he can see Richars and know his son is safe, then he will die a pained but content man.)

Rubble.

He trips.

He falls.

He scrambles to his feet as the hoard descends.

Cuts his way back out, bloody and bruised, and keeps. on. running.

running.

There! In the distance.

Walter Bob isn't dead, he's waving at him.

Forever does not know what that means, but he runs that way instead. As he gets closer he finds the ruins of an old building. Decrepit, broken, but with a roof and four doors. With a last burst of strength he throws himself through the gap, twists his ankle on the turn, and Walter Bob slams shut the door.

With no time for his ankle he begins to help, sealing up the doorway with block after block after block.

Lights a torch and pins it to a wall, only for his ankle to collapse and drive him to the floor.

He looks up, sees Walter Bob watching impassively.

He should get up, get up, throw more potions and get ready to run again.

Outside the monsters howl.

Walter Bob keeps staring.

Forever shakily takes out two slices of avocado toast, and offers one to his companion. He can feel his heart in his throat, but also the crash coming now there are walls and light around him.

Walter Bob takes the toast with a nod.

Forever eats his toast.

It takes like friendship, concern, and regret.

By the time it is done, Forever has no energy left. He pulls himself to sitting, tucks his knees to his chest. Throws his head to the wall behind him, slamming it onto the red wall.

He cannot help the laugh welling out of his throat and into the air. Neither can he stop it, as it grows louder, more desperate, shifting to tears and sobs he cannot afford to cry.

Walter Bob sits down, too. Turns his head, watches the blocked up door.

Walter Bob cannot laugh.

Forever screams in his stead.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp forever #qsmp walter bob #qsmp spoilers #angst #forever in the nether #q!forever is going through it my guys #whumptober prompt stranded I fucking guess! the timing on that bit of lore #poor forever that was absolute shit what cucurucho did to him #i know he's ooc away but still #yeesh

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eskawrites · 4 months

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#21 for the angsty prompt, if you feel like it <3

21. "This isn't what it looks like."

Nancy has picked up many skills in all her years fighting the supernatural forces beneath Hawkins. How to shoot a gun. How to set a bear trap. How to bandage a wound, sort of. Well enough, anyway.

How to pack a bag quickly. How to sneak out of the house without being seen. How to disappear.

Her clothes are easy enough to throw into a suitcase, though she lingers for far too long debating whether she wants to throw Robin's sweater in there, too (she does). She leaves all her things in the bathroom, figuring she can just buy more wherever she ends up.

She doesn't touch the photos, knowing she doesn't deserve them, but she ends up just standing and looking at them for a while, getting lost in her own raging thoughts as she wonders yet again what the hell she's doing. Why the hell she hasn't done it yet.

She lingers too long. She hears Robin's car pull up, the sound of her tires on the driveway familiar in a way Nancy hadn't even realized until now. The car door shuts, and Nancy stares helplessly at the mess she's made of their bedroom. She hears the jingle of Robin's keys, then the turn of the lock. Her vision is blurred by the time Robin's greeting carries through the house. Then,

"Oh, you're in here. I--Nance? What's wrong?"

Nancy turns around in time to see Robin notice the suitcase open on the bed, Nancy's entire wardrobe piled inside it.

"What's going on?"

"This isn't what it looks like," she tries, but she was never a good liar, really. Clever, determined, analytical, but a terrible liar. Especially in front of Robin.

"Then what is it?" Robin says, giving her the benefit of the doubt anyway. An understanding Nancy can't stand. A chance she doesn't deserve.

And all Nancy can do is stare at her.

"Nancy?" Robin asks, her voice pitching high and nervous. "What's going on?"

"I can't," Nancy breathes.

"Can't what?"

"I just--I don't--I'm sorry, Robin."

Robin is crying now, too, reading the silences between Nancy's choked words, seeing her so vividly and so thoroughly. Nancy hates it. She wishes, suddenly, for Robin to be like Jonathan. Like Steve. More friend than lover, more stranger than friend, in the end. Someone easy to let go of. Someone who will let her go.

But Robin isn't like that. She's always been more. She's always known exactly why Nancy says the things she says, does the things she does.

"I--" Robin falters. Takes a ragged breath. Tries again. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Nancy rushes to say. "Nothing at all, you didn't--you know you didn't, Robs, you know it's always been me."

Robin shakes her head. "Then don't do this. Don't go."

"I don't know how to stay," she says, and she hears Robin sob.

"Try," Robin begs. "Please. For me. For us. Please, just try."

"You deserve so much more," whispers Nancy

"You don't have to always run."

"But what if I do?"

"You don't."

"Robin--" She can't do this. She turns sharply away from her, unable to look at her anymore, to face what she's doing to her. She grabs the suitcase instead and pulls it toward herself. Her hand goes to the zipper and tugs hard. It catches, and she grits her teeth and shoves the sleeve of whatever's in the way back inside.

Robin's sweater. It's soft to the touch, recognizable immediately. Nancy's fingers curl around it without permission. Behind her, she hears Robin's shaky breath.

"You don't have to do this," she says.

"I already have." Nancy turns to face her. Her hand won't let go of the sweater, so she pulls it with her, bundles it in her arms and holds it to her chest. "Robs. If I stay, you will spend the rest of our lives terrified that I'll try to leave again."

"Nance--"

"I can't do that to you. I can't--you--I'm sorry."

"So don't go."

"I'm so sorry."

"Nancy, please."

Nancy shakes her head. Screw the suitcase. She can buy clothes, too, when she's gone. She just needs to go.

She starts to walk out of the room, but Robin catches her by the arms as she passes her.

"Robin--"

"Just tell me why." Robin searches her face desperately. "Why? You have unresolved trauma? I know, I do too. The nightmares? The flashbacks? Your terrible sleep schedule and your unhealthy coping techniques? I have them all, too."

"You deserve--"

"Bullshit. Don't tell me I deserve better, I want you."

"I want you to have more."

"Not possible." Robin lets go of her for just long enough to step into her space, to reach up and cup her cheeks, brushing the tears gently, frantically, away. "I know your grief, Nancy. I know your pain, and your fear, and I know your need to run. Just please, please, don't run from me."

"I'll hurt you. I have hurt you."

"And you'll do it again, and I'll hurt you, because that's what people do. But we'll heal each other, too. Love each other, too. You just have to give us a chance."

Nancy closes her eyes and hugs the sweater closer. "Let me go, Robin."

"No." It comes out as a whimper.

"Please. Just let me go."

Robin's hands tremble against her, but she does as Nancy asks. She always does what Nancy asks, and Nancy loves her for it even as she absolutely loathes the slow, painful way Robin releases her now. She loves her, and that's the most terrifying thing she's ever faced. Nancy steps back, widening the distance between them.

She pulls the sweater on. It's long on hair, bulky enough to be instantly warm. The sleeves go past her fingers, and she bunches them in her hands and holds on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, opening her eyes again even as she backs away further. Robin watches her, eyes wide, broken heart on her sleeve. Nancy forces herself to turn around and keep walking.

She can hear Robin following her, but she doesn't argue again. Not as Nancy pulls on her sneakers, or grabs her purse, or pulls her keys down from the hook by the door. She just trails silently after her, watching Nancy rip herself out of the life they've started to build together.

But as Nancy opens the door and forces herself down the front steps to her car, her own thoughts start screaming at her again, voicing all the protests she's certain Robin is biting back now.

Nancy stops. She stares at the car, then down at the keys in her hand. An escape. A retreat. A new beginning, as if starting over has ever made her any less broken.

She turns back around. Robin is standing just outside the door, socked feet on the cold concrete, tears on her cheeks as she watches Nancy go.

"I don't know how to stay," Nancy says, and maybe it's supposed to be an apology, but it feels more like a plea.

"I'll figure it out with you," says Robin, always hearing everything she never says. "You know I will. You just have to trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust."

"I trust you, Nance," Robin breathes. "I trust you with my life. I trust you with my heart."

"I wish you wouldn't."

"That's not your choice to make."

She swallows. "But this is."

Robin closes her eyes. "This is."

Nancy drops her purse. She runs back up the steps. Robin opens her eyes in time for Nancy to slam into her.

"I'm sorry," she cries even as she wraps her arms around her.

"I know. It's okay."

"I'm going to hurt you."

"And I'll forgive you, just as long as you love me, too."

"I do. I don't know how not to."

"Then that's all we need," Robin whispers. Her hand tangles in Nancy's hair, and Nancy clings to her like a lifeline. "I promise that's all we need."

#asks #annieofhearts #ronance #gonna be so real with you i do not know what this is or if it is good #it is simply what came to mind and devolved from there #morning angst prompt for you all #i actually wrote this incoherently at like 1am but decided it was best to leave for a morning reread #so this HAS been reread and edited #if it's still mediocre well then i guess we'll all just have to live with that

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