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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

#steddie #my fic #angst with a happy ending #or like maybe bittersweet end 'cause of Steve's headspace #i dunno #just a little ficlet as warmup writing #so i thought i'd share

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maehemthemisfit · 7 months

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How writers look when putting angst no happy ending, major character death, and hurt no comfort in their WIPs.

#just be brewing up PAIN #you know who you are #angst #light angst #angst no comfort #angst no happy ending #writers #writer #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #genshin angst #jjk angst #writer memes

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duckimate · 2 months

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lost longing for someone you can't recall, but that someone's a faraway deity

"The ancient gods changed men to things, but left them A consciousness that smoldered endlessly, That splendid sorrows might endure forever. And you are changed into a memory."

so ! fanart for solar eclipse au by none other than THE @mochiwrites. but i switched the concept around?? (au of an au. woah)

.SPOILERS!!. spoiLERS!!!! I SAID SPOILERS. .

instead of solara being punished and casted down to earth for reincarnation it was proteus instead <333

yes i know amor solis takes place in a more modern setting but personally mumbo k jumbo with his vest and tie and british glory gave me more of a painter than sculptor vibe (artistic boyfriends,,,)

bros drawing his lover from his past life when he cant even recall any of those memories <3

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tfrinpin · 2 months

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Hullo. I am amongst the living.

This little idea kept nagging at me, so here we are: TFP where Op goes ✨FERAL✨

So y’know that whole shtick about “they had a secret relationship all along?” Well this is sort of like that, basically— yes, Megs and Op have had a secret relationship ever since the Orion arc. Megs kept in contact because he missed Optimus SO MUCH. And the war has been going on for so long. Also they can fix Cybertron together. But MOSTLY Megs missed Optimus.

Things go along, now they’re definitely considering peace time and even drafting a treaty to share with their respective factions.

But a little bump in the road comes in the form of someone that Megs DID NOT expect to see— MegaZarak. And instead of Zarak heavily injures Optimus or tortures him, like a previous idea I’ve had before— I’ve thought of something a little more heart wrenching. Shit goes down right when Prime and Megs are about to establish peace: Zarak beats out Megs from the title as leader of the Decepticons. He retreats, and escapes via ground ridge thanks to Optimus and the crew. Knockout, BreakDown, SW, and DreadWing follow after him, ever the loyal soldiers (and they also dont want to deal with Zarak). But Optimus gets nabbed just before he jumps through the ground bridge, and he’s now a prisoner to Zarak. So to fuck with Megs even more, Zarak uses the Botched Synthetic Energon to make Op go FERAL.

Like he’s a literal beast on a leash, fangs and all— and Megs, when staging a rescue operation, is torn because he doesnt want to hurt Op, but he has no choice because OP IS FERAL AND HE WILL LITERALLY GET HIS FACE RIPPED OFF. Optimus’ optics are the striking green just like when Ratchet messed around with it earlier on in the series. (Don’t do drugs kids)

He’s got Optimus pinned and he’s trying disparately to pierce through the feral veil that’s blinding the Prime. And there’s a small, tiny moment where Optimus calms down, and his optics flash blue. He tries to speak but his words are staticky and jumbled. Megs reaches out a soothing hand over Op’s face, but unfortunately the touching moment is short lived when Optimus’ optics flash green again, and he goes back to fighting like a rabid animal.

Megs has no choice to knock Optimus out and take him to the wreckage of the Harbinger where both bots and cons have established a new base since the one is Jasper got blown to bits. So Megs is looking through the cell door of the brig, watching as a feral Op is chained to a wall, snarling, growling, and trying to rid himself of his bindings. Ratchet establishes that it’ll probably take days, maybe WEEKS to flush the botched synthetic energon from Prime’s frame. Megs, ever the stubborn mech, refuses to give up on his Prime— so he sits, and waits, and assists where he can in order to bring his Prime back to himself.

So yeah, an idea where Optimus is pretty much having to be treated like a wild beast the whole time until they can get the botched synth energon out of him.

You’re welcome.

#rinpin #tfrinpin #megop #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #tranformers prime #feral Optimus #feral op #megazarak #yeah this one is just full of angst and i just had to draw it #also the prime bots are tricky to draw the first time around but #eh #it was fun anyway #but also Megs refusing to leave his husband #and most likely will rip Zarak’s head clean off his shoulders #there’s a happy ending I swear

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aerknight · 6 months

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@naffeclipse orcas beach themselves to hunt seals orca!eclipse beaches themself to hunt y/n :)

#falls over #sometimes art inspo grabs you like this eclipse and you start something and do not stop until it is done #that was me with this LOL #i have joined the orca eclipse hype train #yeah uh if someone looks at you like this dont stick around #anyway #i saw some people mentioning on the fic comments they think yn is gonna be turned mer #i hope this does not happen because I CRAVE THE ANGST #cancel the happy endings >:)#also i know the orca thing could just be a design choice #but i like to think its because either #a: mimicking to scare off other predators like sharks #b: mimicking to hunt orcas #imagine being an orca and this thing that kinda looks like an orca at a distance and then when you get closer its all WRONG #apparently this is called aggressive mimicry #mer!eclipse #fnaf au #orca!eclipse #apex polarity #fnaf daycare attendant #my art

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will-die-for-janus · 4 months

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Logan thinking Virgil didn’t care enough to put any effort into his gift AND thinking it’s because something is wrong with him and need to re-evaluate

but then him finding out Virgil made something incredibly thoughtful that appeals to his interests specifically

bonus: Virgil being so mad over Janus implying he put no thought into his gift

#i wanna cry just thinking about it bro #at least he got a happy surprised at the end :]#nillatalks #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #ts sanders sides #new sanders sides #logan sanders #logan angst #ts logan #ts virgil #virgil sanders

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dclovesdanny · 1 month

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Dc x dp

Dead on main 5/5

Jason never wanted to see his family die again. He could still hear the replace- Tim’s screams. He could still feel Damian’s blood coating his hands as he desperately tried to put pressure on the wound, could see Dick’s wide yet unseeing eyes.

Everyone had died, except for him. He was alone.

Then he and Danny made a plan.

Danny had been his friend for a few years, and knew loss as intimately as he did. Jason had held his friend as he sobbed not too long ago over his clone/daughter Ellie. He knew that sometimes, you couldn’t come back.

Instead, he and Danny promised each other that if they could do it again, they’d be better. They would save their family. They wouldn’t let themselves loose everything again. They just wished they could do it again.

They were both so drunk that neither of them heard Desiree’s whispered “So you wish it, so it shall be.” Neither of them saw her exchange a glance with Clockwork.

Next Morning, Jason woke up to his phone ringing off the hook.

“What!”

“Jason, it’s Danny. You need to look in the mirror or at a calendar or something!”

Jason checked the date on his phone, and stared.

It was two months before he left the league. As he surveyed himself, everything was the same as the past except his jacket. It was the only thing that was the same. Wait, Danny!

“Danny, what happened with you? Why the hell is this happening?”

Danny looked around his old room. The only thing that wasn’t fitting with the past was his phone, which he had woken up with clutched in his hand. He could hear his parents downstairs. He looked like he did before. Then, he noticed a familiar green sticky note on his mirror.

Here is your chance to save them. Your consort can help you.

Only you two shall remember, but your abilities remain.

Danny clutched the note.

“ I think Clockwork just gave us a second chance.”

#dead on main #time travel #dcxdp #dc x dp #clockwork helped #only Jason and Danny remember #Jason is definitely going to steal Damian #Everyone else will be so confused #Danny just fought the lunch #everyone else died in the future #I’m blaming GIW #and League of Assassins aka Ra #misunderstanding #angst #chaos and angst #angst with a happy ending

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rosieofcorona · 6 months

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A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land.

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn.

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell.

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement.

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head.

“You are extraordinary.”

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to.

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness.

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still.

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see.

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.”

“As you say.”

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place.

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts.

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light.

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability.

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand.

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body.

His god is nowhere here.

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin.

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm.

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens.

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear.

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy.

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–”

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding.

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now.

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze.

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her.

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true.

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest.

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands.

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.”

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.”

“Very well.”

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation.

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath.

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod.

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind.

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove.

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x tav #my fic #halsin x reader #halsin x fem! tav #fluff #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #but mostly just so soft #like it was a delight to write something so sweet #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #halsin romance #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic

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daedelweiss · 1 year

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hello, tumblr! welcome to my version of a rottmnt separated AU ✨ "life mission: save my brothers" ✨ where splinter managed to rescue only leo after the turtles have been mutated. raph was taken to big mama and was raised to become a battle nexus champion, mikey was taken by draxum and was trained to be a warrior to protect yokai and fight against humans, and donnie was thought to be dead but was actually taken by a tech mob and ran away when he was 7 only to meet big mama, who used his talent with tech to her advantage.

there will be a comic about this . 3 . it’s quite long help-

btw, donnie doesn’t know that other turtle mutants exist. big mama gave him goggles that prevented him to see them and was told to cover up his turtle-yness which is how he got to meet raph sometimes before they found out they were brothers. leo rescues them over the course of the story: first raph, then mikey, then donnie (after they found out he’s still alive).

there will be more about them! and feel free to ask 😄 i’m really happy with the feedback i have about my AU so hope y’all like it too 👉👈

( 🌿 do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

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flamingpudding · 7 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 6 - "I can't wait for you."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury

Danny stared at the stars above his head, sitting on top of Fenton Works. Even after a week his arm still tingled with phantom pains from his accident. In his left hand was a dagger he hadn't looked at in years now. Was it 6 or 7 years? Danny couldn't really remember. He had been too young when he had made his first decision for himself only.

The fingertips of his right hand traced imaginary patterns over the blade as his eyes searched out different constellations in the night sky. 7 years ago, he would have never imagined for himself a future where he was allowed to follow his own dreams. A week ago he had talked about his dream of becoming an astronaut, exploring the vast space that existed just outside of their own stratosphere.

Now after that the lab accident he had he felt like another dream had gotten shattered by the wheels of fate. It wasn't even his past life from before the Fentons that shattered these dreams, in the way he had feared in the first couple of years after coming to live with them. It where times like these when he would dug out the dagger to take it with him to see the stars.

His eyes turned from the stars to the blade in his hand.

It was a special blade his biological mother had ordered when she learned about having twins. The blade itself was only one half. The flat surface of the handle and the blade on one side while the other appeared like a high quality blade and greatly decorated handle, spoke of the missing part. His dagger was only half of a dagger, the other half was with his twin.

This was the only thing he had taken with him when he had left at the tender age of 5 or was it six? His memory was blurry and back then celebrating your birthday wasn't as big of a deal as it was in the life he had gained with Fentons.

At times Danny wondered why he had been the only one to see it. His twin had gone through the same teachings, the same lessons, the same training, the same mission. Yet Danny had been the only one who saw the way their grandfather really was. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the brainwashing. Danny had seen it all and realized it pretty soon and when he had talked with his twin about it?

He had hit a wall. Grandfather knows what he's doing. Stop imagining things, Danyal.

"I can't wait for you. Damian, if you can't see what I do, then I can no longer stay here and wait."

These were the last words he had said to his twin after another argument about their grandfather gaslighting them about a mission result. It was right there and then that Danny decided he needed to leave and that he did.

Somehow, as a five years old he had managed to get all the way to America before they found him again. And when he refused to come back they, his grandfather's mans, attacked without remorse. After all it was better to get rid of loose ends than to let them frail your masterpiece.

But ending up near death in the middle of a forest where the Fentons happen to be camping was his luck back then. They probably thought that he wouldn't make it, that Danny wouldn't have the will to continue barely breathing in his own pool of blood but Danny proved them wrong. He did have the will and he had continued crawling until Jazz had found him.

That was how his life had changed the first time. The Fentons took him in, allowed him to dream and to build a future and family of his own. Now this lap accident was making changes to his life again and Danny couldn't help but think back to his previous life. "I wonder if Damian finally saw what I did or if he still is under grandfather's influence…"

Months later Danny was introduced to an apparent family friend of his parents. One Danny felt was too much of a fruitloop and gave him concerning flashbacks to his grandfather but was still easier to deal with. But following all the incidence of conflicts with the fruitloop was also a moment to which said fruitloop somehow convinced his parents to let him drag Danny to a Gala.

Danny hadn't paid any attention to the guests of this gala, no he had taken the first chance he got to escape the way Sam had advised him before to do, and fled to a balcony. Breathing in the clear night air Danny loosened the tie he was made to wear. He did not notice the soft click of the balcony door behind him.

"Danyal." Danny whirled around and pulled out a hidden blade he kept on his person more out of habit than anything else. He hadn't heard his name spoken like that in years, even the fruitloop and a more American dialect when it came to saying his name.

He froze at the mirror image with green eyes that stood before him. That couldn't be could it?

"Damian?" The other teen nodded and Danny only relaxed his stance ever so slightly. His shoulders were still tense and he was still ready to spring into action or use his ghost powers to escape if needed.

Neither of them spoke a word as they took in each other's appearance and Danny hid a small chuckle as his twin clicked his tongue at his defensive stance, crossing his arms.

"I see, you still have that half of a dagger mother had made for us."

"The only thing I took with me when I left."

His twin clicked his tongue once more before reaching into a hidden pocket and pulling out the other half of that dagger. Showing that he also had kept his half of it throughout all these years.

"There is no longer a need for you to wait, Danyal."

Danny blinked and completely dropped his defensive stance, hearing the unspoken words. He let a small smile tuck his lips upwards. It appears that there was a lot he had to catch up on with his twin.

"I never waited to begin with Damian. I ghosted you right after." He chuckled lightly, knowing his brother wouldn't understand until later.

"Don't lie, Danyal. You took your half of the dagger with you." His brother frowned before smirking at him. "You said you couldn't wait anymore but taking it with you was clearly telling me that you would still do so anyway."

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baker-chan-senpai · 11 months

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i LOVE alternate meeting serirei au's pass it on

#not just cos i have a thing for pre-mob serizawa but that's also true #serirei #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho #really i need more fanfiction of them #and angst #god i love angst #with a happy ending tho please #sketch dump #art #digital art

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strangersteddierthings · 7 months

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So it's like, Eddie comes back and now he's like really affectionate to Steve in a way he wasn't before. Except it's not Eddie, it's Kas trying to pretend to be Eddie. Kas doesn't have Eddie's memories, just echos of feelings towards people and apparently Eddie had Super Strong Feelings towards Steve. So strong Kas thinks "They must have been lovers. If I play in love with the man with the nailbat, they will surely Believe I Am Eddie and I can help Vecna defeat them from within" and that is NOT the case.

Queue shenanigans as everyone tries to figure what who the hell is in their friend's body while trying to pretend they don't suspect a thing. Because the sudden affection for Steve is just the piece that tips the scale, because there's been an awful lot of things not adding up since Eddie returned. Like Eddie eating veggies happily while Wayne stares at him, suspicious and confused, or when Will asked about DnD and 'Eddie' was like what the fuck is that and Will's like... Dungeons and Dragons? The others said you were just as obsessed as us with it?? and Kas!Eddie has to be like "*nervous laughter* hahaha I jest I love the Dungeons and the Dragons". Etc.

And then poor steve is left to deal with this affection he wanted so bad before but doesn't want now because he didn't want Eddie for his body (even if it is a really nice body) but he liked all the things about Eddie that no longer seem to exist. He's not loud, he's not outspoken and wild, he doesn't care for music anymore, didn't even know what dnd was! Everything that made Eddie Eddie is gone and Steve doesn't know how to feel about finally getting what he wanted (Eddie's affection) but it's not the Eddie Steve fell in love with. But Steve's supposed to be distracting the imposter while the others work out a plan.

#steddie #kas!eddie #what im sayin' is he fools no one but thinks hes infiltrated SO WELL #angst with a happy ending #like eddie is in there the whole time but shoved back and when El finally rips Kas from his head Eddie is like #holy shit it's me guys!!#and then steves like... so... kas said he loved me. Was... was that just him or do you... could we...?#and eddie tells him that kas never loved him‚ that was an act‚ but eddie DOES love him #and then they smooch

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luxtoony · 1 year

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S..so.. 👉👈 @somerandomdudelmao

I really didn't want my first fanart for Cass series to be angst but my hand didn't listen. The pose and atmosphere was so cool, I couldn't resist :(

Me showing up to my college after another (very very and that's two very's) late night dedicated to turtles.

(sorry for reposting but tumblr pranks me as always)

#cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt movie #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt casey jr #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanart #well technically it's just colouring #I will make proper fanart later #why does this fandom have so many amazing creators?#anyway I love angst but Cass #*grabs your shoulders*#don't play with me I beg of ye #this shit better have the comfort happy ending you promised #jk You do what you want and we will eat this shit up #luxtoony #my art #well my colouring

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inoreuct · 1 month

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more sanji drinking angst plis,,, 🙏🏼😁

y’know, it’s normal when zoro drinks. he has an iron liver and a sky-high tolerance. he get mildly tipsy with the amount of alcohol sufficient to kill a regular man.

when sanji drinks, though, it’s usually… not very good.

they’re in the galley, have been since dinner. zoro’s drowsy and full and slumped over the table with his chin in his hand as he watches sanji scrub at the dishes until they squeak, divested of his suit jacket and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, and the cook looks haggard. they’ve all been expecting it, really, what with Whole Cake being a fucking doozy— but sanji’s been holding it together perfectly. big smiles and neatly-pressed suits and coiffed hair and all.

zoro knows him well enough to know that he’s due to break at some point. still, tonight is the first time he’s seen sanji like this; like he’d just decided to say fuck it all and throw pretence to the wind. maybe it had been thanks to the emptiness of the galley, save the both of them. maybe sanji had considered it safe because zoro was in no place to judge.

but when sanji had picked up that bottle of rum, he hadn’t put it down until there was nothing left.

zoro had let him drink. the cook hadn’t even been smoking any more than usual— hadn’t had a single hair out of place, no sign of the pressure except the strain at the edges of his smile. everybody had been walking on eggshells for the past few days and sanji had just kept going like nothing was wrong, which zoro knows means quite a lot is wrong, because sanji’s a self-sacrificial bastard who wouldn’t be able to ask for help if his life depended on it.

didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt, though. he’s felt like he couldn’t breathe, the whole of last week; it doesn’t feel right seeing the cook with a bottle between his lips instead of a cigarette, liquor wetting the corners of his mouth instead of smoke. it makes part of zoro tighten into a dead knot. on one hand, it’s an unspoken show of trust— deliberately left alone so as to not draw attention to it, but one all the same. sanji would never let himself go in front of anyone else like this. maybe a few months earlier he’d think the cook just didn’t care enough for his opinion and get all offended, but now?

sanji knows he’s here. he’s never unaware of his surroundings, and especially now after… everything. he’s believing that zoro won’t judge him, and he won’t. he doesn’t. but enough is enough, and sanji’s grip on the edge of the plate is tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

it’s almost a relief in a really twisted way. zoro’s been hovering by the sidelines, sleeping with one eye open and waiting for sanji to crack just so he can catch all the pieces before the cook falls apart completely, and it seems like this is it.

his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. “alright, let’s get you to bed.”

“no.” sanji doesn’t stop scrubbing. he doesn’t even bother looking up. “why?”

zoro scoffs. “because you’re fucking drunk, cook. you’ve been washing that plate for five minutes.”

“well maybe it’s just not fucking clean, yeah?” sanji spits, quiet vitriol leadening his words even with his head bowed, and his breathing is jerky as zoro walks forward.

“oi.” it doesn’t come out harshly, exactly, but he needs sanji to know that he isn’t fucking around with this. “What the hell’s going on?”

“i don’t know.”

“what do you mean you don’t—”

“i don’t know!”

zoro lurches back at the outburst as the cook whips around, seething within the span of a second, plate dropped carelessly into the water in the sink. he hears it thunk when it hits the bottom.

“i don’t know, alright?” sanji laughs, eyes wild. “nothing’s wrong. everything’s wrong. everything is fucking perfect and i feel like i’m fucking dying inside.” his voice cracks right before he takes a visible breath and turns sharply, dipping his hand under the water to grab the plate and sponge again.

zoro watches his shoulders tremble. every movement of his now is precise and carefully calculated; he’s moving like a fucking robot and zoro hates it. hates the way his spine looks rigid enough to snap with a touch. hates the way his face is a placid mask, still water with a storm roiling beneath. zoro doesn’t know how to approach this other than with barbed words and concern thinly veiled as confrontation. he doesn’t know what to do other than be here because it’s better than not being here at all.

sanji’s hands have been scrubbed pink and raw. “get out, mosshead.”

“no.”

the cook’s cuticles are peeling, his fingertips pruned. he never lets either of them get this bad. “i said get out—”

“and I said no.” zoro crosses his arms. he counts three seconds of silence before sanji snaps.

“god, for once could you fucking listen?!” the cook snarls, rounding on zoro like a cornered animal and waving his arms. “i don’t want to talk to you right now! i do not want you here! so please, fuck off and— put me down, you piece of shit!” sanji borderline screams, struggling and wiggling over zoro’s shoulder as he’s hauled up and marched out of the galley.

zoro winces as the toe of a steel-capped oxford jams into his ribs, digging in deeper as sanji grunts with the effort. he doesn’t know where he’s going but they end up outside the infirmary, and he shoulders the door open before depositing sanji on the bed without preamble. “stay,” he grunts, ignoring the noises of outrage and turning to go get water.

“you can’t tell me what to do,” sanji spits from behind him, cheeks red from more than just anger as he pushes himself unsteadily to his feet. he either doesn’t realise that he’s listing to the side or he doesn’t care.

“sit down or I’ll make you.”

the cook barks a laugh that snaps in the air like a neck in rope. “try! i fucking dare you, marimo, you—”

zoro tackles him down and he screeches like a trapped cat, trying to escape even as the swordsman pins his legs and shoves his shoulders down into the bunk. “you are drunk. stop it.”

“why?” sanji shouts in his face. the cook is straining against him, all wild eyes and bared teeth, shoulders jerking with a sardonic laugh. “don’t wanna fight anymore?”

“no. i don’t.” the air is suddenly too quiet, too heavy, with something zoro doesn’t know if he should name. he watches as the cook’s face falls and twists into something sullen as he tries one last time to jerk his way out of zoro’s hold. “not like this.”

their ship rocks gently as zoro slowly eases off, shifting his weight back and sitting on the edge of the mattress with a soundless, weary sigh. there’s still a stubborn set to sanji’s chin even as he lays there on his back, unmoving from where zoro put him— leave it to him to be contrary for the sake of being contrary. the swordsman takes a deep breath to suppress an eye roll and opens his mouth to say something—

“it hurts.”

zoro stills, turning so he can see sanji better. “what hurts, cook?”

“everything.”

the blond is staring at the ceiling, unblinking and unreadable. the fabric of his slacks is riding up and zoro swallows down the urge to curl a hand around his pale ankle for comfort. he tells himself he doesn’t know where the urge to soothe came from, but he knows, he knows— this melancholy is something that sanji buries so deep, none of them catch even a glimpse of it on a normal day. his face is a blank slate, his usual fire banked, and he looks so drained. an cracked shell of himself running on empty. “i don’t want to feel it. i don’t want to feel anything,” he continues, softly enough that zoro has to strain to hear, leaning in instinctively.

glossy blue eyes flick over. golden hair scrunches against the off-white sheets as sanji turns his face towards him and whispers, “doesn’t that make me exactly like them?”

no. zoro swallows, at the same time both too wet and too dry, feeling a little like he’s been gutted with a dull knife. he says a mental to hell with it and slowly shifts his hand to wrap his fingers around sanji’s ankle, just a gentle grip, his thumb resting beneath the notch of bone. he can hear the soft sounds of the waves outside as it melds with sanji’s breathing, as he opens his mouth and comes up dry for things to say. “…get some sleep, curls.”

“can’t.” sanji purses his lips, shrugging a shoulder as he looks away like it’s no big deal. “can’t sleep. not well, at least. not since…”

zoro feels his own heart thud against his ribs as his gaze slips over sanji’s face, the redness rimming his eyes and the dark circles beneath. “i’m sleeping with you tonight,” he decides.

the cook makes an aborted noise of indignation before apparently deciding that it isn’t worth the effort. “we can’t fit two people in a bed.”

zoro shrugs, unaffected in the face of the venomous look sanji shoots him. “we can try.”

sanji mutters something to the ceiling under his breath. the swordsman pretends not to hear it.

they end up crammed onto the infirmary bed, sanji squashed against the wall and zoro almost falling off. the blond wiggles around in discomfort for five minutes before sitting bolt upright with a hissed curse and undoing his dress shirt in a frenzy; zoro stifles a laugh as he balls it up and hurls it at the desk across the room before flopping back down with a loud huff.

the cook scrunches himself up, spine pressed against the wall and one knee pulled up between them to maintain the distance, pointed at zoro’s gut as a subtle threat. “i’m not gonna bite you, y’know,” zoro grumbles. here he is doing this out of goodwill and this is how he’s treated.

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” sanji snips in reply. “also, you stink.”

“no i don’t. i just showered.”

“irrelevant.”

“priss.”

“moron.”

“spoiled.”

“i have standards, you sentient piece of kelp.”

“you—” zoro grits out, before he stalls. somehow, throughout this whole exchange, they’d inched closer and closer together and now sanji’s shoulder is digging into his breastbone, his breath warm across zoro’s cheek even as a brush of his skin above the loose, low front of zoro’s shirt feels completely opposite. “why’re you so fuckin’ cold?” he mutters, briskly rubbing at sanji’s upper arms before the cook bats him away with a startled hiss.

“don’t—” he cuts off and huffs a harsh breath, sneering in the dark as he digs for the right word, “—coddle me.”

“why not?” zoro shoots back. the words are out of his mouth faster than he can process, but it’s too late to take them back. “give me one good reason and i’ll stop. just one.”

the quiet that falls into place after that is broken by the sound of sanji’s swallow and nothing else. it’s nearly pitch-black; they’d put out the lamp on the wall and the infirmary has no windows. if zoro strains his eye he can see sanji’s outline curled close to his own front, golden hair darkened to honey and arms wrapped around himself.

he recalls how it had felt to have fine bones beneath his hand. how the cook hadn’t kicked him off.

the hand he rests on sanji side is tentative. barely-there pressure, a ghost of a touch with enough space for sanji to back away. he settles his palm down more firmly after a few seconds, tracking his thumb up and down the bumps of sanji’s ribs, and he barely stops his breath from catching when the cook wiggles away from the wall and presses his spine into zoro’s hand.

sanji’s looking at him. he can see the occasional flutter of long lashes, feel the weight of the cook’s attention like sanji’s preparing to say something, but it never comes. a soft breath slips from his lips before zoro feels a hand curl around his waist, fingers curling into his shirt.

“sanji.”

the cook heaves a long-suffering sigh. it doesn’t hide how he’s affected by zoro using his real name; zoro can read him too well for that. knows him too well for that. “what.”

zoro readjusts, fingertips pressing into the small of sanji’s back to pull him closer, and wonder of wonders, the cook lets him. “you’re nothing like them.”

he pretends he doesn’t feel sanji’s arm tighten around him after a few seconds. he notices that his shirt’s damp right before he falls asleep, right where sanji has his face buried in his shoulder.

he doesn’t mention any of it.

the next morning is… interesting.

zoro had woken to an empty bed, with the sheets just barely warm and hazy recollections of a lithe body tucked to his side, a leg thrown over his and soft hair under his chin. he stretches and ambles down to the galley, scratching at his stomach beneath his shirt as he yawns, and right on cue— sanji’s disdainful little tongue click reaches his ears, and he smiles. everything’s back to normal, then.

there’s more of the usual; luffy getting yelled at to leave the eggs alone, i don’t care if you’re hungry, they are raw, and nami and robin being handed their special little tiny cups of coffee and tea respectively. the rest of the crew filters in, and zoro people-watches from his spot on the ratty corner couch before he eventually gets up and slides into his seat at the table.

but when sanji takes his spot beside him, it feels different. the cook’s made onigiri for breakfast, the plate set down just a little closer to zoro’s side than usual before he sits, and zoro pauses with his chopsticks in the air as an ankle bumps into his.

not roughly, or painfully, nowhere near, no. just a reminder. a small nudge that could say any possible number of things, but from the way sanji’s gaze meets his before darting away, he’d guess it’s the thank you that their cook always has so much trouble saying. it’s never a lack of gratitude— more of a refusal to acknowledge that he needed help in the first place, that he accepted it, but zoro will take what he can get.

the circles under sanji’s eyes aren’t quite so dark anymore.

zoro knocks back. he feels the rasp of his boot laces against the heel of sanji’s patent leather oxford, and neither of them pull away. the swordsman presses his lips together and takes a big bite to hide his smile, failing momentarily when sanji immediately starts berating his abysmal table manners, marimo, honestly, if you choke i will leave you to die, and yeah, sure. back to normal.

he catches sanji’s eye again, sky-cornflower-ocean blue, and he wonders what sanji could be seeing in his to make his face soften like that.

normal, and maybe a little something new.

(he isn’t quite sure what to do the following night. sanji’s already in his own bunk when he slips in for a quick few hours of shut-eye, but it isn’t long before he feels someone climbing in with him, and he just knows instinctively without even needing to open his eye. they’ve got limbs hanging out here and there but they fit reasonably well and zoro wakes with sanji’s sleep shirt tucked in his fist and his thin blanket pulled up around his shoulders.

it goes on like this night after night to the point where their crew knows, he thinks. even if zoro discounts the fact that most of them share a bunkroom, they’ve still got to know something’s up; sanji glows like sunlight reflecting off the ocean now, real smiles and laughs that have him tossing his head back and holding his stomach, eyes in sapphire half-moons. robin brings it up offhandedly one day and zoro hums that proper sleep’s doing their cook good— she gives him that look that she does, and he turns away with a smile that he hides in his arm.

the first time sanji finds him in the crow’s nest, he’s still asleep when zoro’s watch ends. the cook’s stretched out on the bench above as zoro sits on the floor, hand draped down against zoro’s collarbone, his face so peaceful that zoro can’t— fuck, he can’t wake him.

and it can’t be comfortable lying on his own arm like that; zoro sits down and carefully pushes him up until sanji’s leaning on his shoulder, that sharp nose tucked under his jaw, and drifts asleep.)

(he stirs awake before sanji’s gone. his eye flutters open to find the cook mid-yawn, working out a crick in his neck and bathed in early-morning light, warm and golden. the cook realises he’s watching and freezes, shoulders going tense and stiff—

he deflates a little when zoro blinks at him, sleep-warm and bleary. “gotta make breakfast, marimo,” he murmurs, reaching out after a moment’s hesitation.

the hand that cups zoro’s cheek is gently callused and somehow familiar. he turns into it like a flower to the sun and breathes in something that he never even realised he’d gotten used to, olive oil and shoe polish and orange blossom pomade. “i know,” he replies, pressing the words into sanji’s palm, and a thumb drags across his cheekbone.

“need anything before i go?” sanji asks, and they both know it’s half a joke. what could he possibly give zoro in here? a dumbbell sandwich?

that other half, though— it’s far too serious. a cold plunge of water through zoro’s muddled early-morning brain. he knows what he wants, but zoro also knows that patience is a virtue for a reason.

the cook already has a hard enough time letting people in. zoro doesn’t want to push. the hand against his cheek is enough for him, even if it is all sanji could ever want, and so he slips the blond a wry grin. “onigiri?”

“you— ugh, fine.” sanji huffs. “anything else?”

zoro frowns, growing increasingly convinced that this is some sort of trap. these are unprecedented levels of generosity. “…protein shake?”

it takes all of two seconds before sanji puts his face into his hands, taking a deep breath before zoro hears something about having to do everything myself, don’t i? the cook plants his hands on his hips, tapping his foot with one brow arched. “of all the people in the world,” he mutters through his teeth, advancing on zoro with enough of a menacing air that the swordsman leans back into the backrest, “of course it had to be you.”

“me what?” zoro says warily, eyeing sanji up and down, and opens his mouth to continue before a fist grips his collar and there’s a brush of contact at his temple— a kiss, he realises, before all the thoughts drain out of his fucking brain.)

(he’s still reeling when he stumbles his way to breakfast. still wide-eyed as he washes the plates, for once, without complaint. it’s when it’s just the two of them, when zoro twists around to ask a question that he hasn’t yet phrased, that arms lock around his waist and sanji’s forehead presses to his nape.

they’re quiet for a long, long while. “you remind me that i’m not like them, y’know,” sanji breathes, barely loud enough to be heard.

zoro turns in his hold, hands dripping all over the floor, fuck, the cook’ll make him clean that up later, he knows and he isn’t even mad about it. “what do you mean, curls?”

sanji leans into him, all sharp edges and bony joints softened by lean muscle and zoro’s fondness, fingers long and thin and laced together over zoro’s hip. “i’m pretty damn sure they’ve never felt like this.”)

(not much changes after that. franky does make them a bigger bunk to share, though, and they fight perhaps even more fiercely now; afternoons are spent toying with each other across the deck, pushing their limits, pushing each other higher until nami yells at them to stop making a racket. zoro doesn’t pretend that he can’t tell when sanji needs a little more contact, keeping him close when perfectly filed nails dig into his shirt. sanji takes care of them all like he always does, and he lets zoro take care of him— most of the time, at least. it’s still a toss-up on whether he’ll explode or break down whenever anyone tries to help him, but with zoro it’s either both in succession or neither.

sometimes he picks a fight and then cries afterwards. others, he concedes to being wrapped in a ratty old blanket and tucked into zoro’s chest where he can hide from the world.

he sleeps through every night now, though. he’s fiery and sharp-tongued and bright-eyed and when he’s had a bit too much to drink he just gets loud, fooling around with their captain and cackling with nami in a corner of the galley between conspiratorial whispers, but zoro can’t deny him anything even though he’s fairly sure they’re plotting his downfall.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANONNNN #will never get tired of angsting this babygirl. i’m sorry he just has so many Issues #BUT I ALWAYS GIVE THEM HAPPY ENDINGS ALRIGHT SO IT BALANCES OUTTTT #it’s almost 4am this time this is actually horrid #GOODNIGHT ZOSAN NATIONNN #zosan #one piece #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #sanji #zoro #ino writes #ino’s ask box

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