#it's angsty

[xiloscient-is-gay]

Dunno where this idea came from, I just needed to draw more of these two

[kibouhero]

"I think since I got this power, the one thing I've come to fear more than anything is being useless to those around me..." Izuku murmured. "I've always had that fear since I was little, but getting One For All made that fear exponentially worse."

[haemey]

Qui sedet at dexteram patris

You believe

I don't understand

Falling

I warned you

Of gravity

As you created it

When neither of us

Had felt it

You believe

I don't understand

Losing

There were four

At the gates

After you

No more

You believe

I don't understand

Cruelty

When I suffered your death

As you did mine

When you asked your death

Of me

You believe

I don't understand

You

I believe

You don't understand

What I held

In my hands

Under my wing

In my heart

In my words

We both know

What

We don't have to believe

We could have been...

(Also on Ao3)

Tagging @goodomensafterdark

This is not part of any poetry event, it's just something my mind came up with when it was supposed to sleep. Which is now.

[tragedy-for-sale]

Until Replacements Come

"There's only one reason Alpha-17 comes to the capital."

Brothers don't keep secrets from each other. At least, that's how it's supposed to be. But lately... Wrecker wasn't too sure about that. They weren’t training to be spies; they were training to be soldiers. The brothers of Clone Force 99 all have a secret or two up their sleeves. Crosshair’s medbay sonnet, Tech’s secret lab, and Hunter’s out in the water- However, if these brothers hold their tongue too long, when the truth finally reins free, forgiveness may be too far- Hunter's out in the water- Brothers find their first enemy, not in regs, but in each other. As Tsunami storms place Tipoca City on lock down, secrets come in with the rain

Greetings, dear reader, as you may know I participated in this year's @clonebang as a part of team 10. I had the opportunity to work with @pizzaboy-maul who created corresponding art to my fic. The full fic is finally up on AO3. The first chapter is below, enjoy!

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

|| Ch. I || The Lab & Nala Se

The mutation of genetics required hours of dedication. Understanding the structure of one’s DNA, what type of bond holds them together, how many chromosomes and what each individual chromosome affects. That was the tip of the iceberg of knowledge a cloner had to learn and understand. For if one did not, clones would never be viable. Understanding one’s own species’ was completely different to understanding another’s. Nala Se knew this, beyond just simply knowing, she also understood the differences. She understood the manipulation of genes just as well as she knew the effect those mutations would have on the individual later in life. As a young scientist, she felt overwhelmed with the powerful feeling that came with knowing she could create a being and choose every aspect of it. Their eyes, color of hair, whether they would have hair. But as Nala Se got older, she realized it was a great privilege, and not something to take advantage of and fuel the ego of a god. Nala Se was a scientist, she was not a god. As she aged, she viewed her creations with great pride but looking down at all the clones she’d had a hand in creating, it was a bittersweet feeling.

It had been an experiment, as all scientists did, she was simply testing a hypothesis. Following a hunch. Late in her private lab, four clones were created; it wasn’t some grand demandment by the prime minister or chasing after that godly pride, no, it had simply been a test. Four clones. This didn’t happen all at once, no, looking over all the chromosomes individually, manipulating genes to present certain alleles, changing the structure of DNA in itself, an act like this couldn’t possibly happen all at once. No, it happened slowly.

Early in the morning came the first brother; Age acceleration of course. In the case of heightened sensitivity, she knew a majority of those manipulations would have to be added later on in development, so for now, he was almost normal compared to all the clones she’d oversaw. That evening came the second brother, an enlarged hippocampus, resulting in the creation of more neurons and synapses, enhanced neuroplasticity for better absorption of knowledge. This clone would have to undergo constant stimulation to the mind and would remember little details his brothers have long forgotten, but his mind will be exceptional. 

The third brother came the following night, enhanced metabolism, heightened protein synthesis; he would tower over everyone around him, he’d move mountains. There was a trickle of doubt, he might turn out to be hard to control, he might wreck everything. The last and final brother came the morning after; enhanced synthesis of rhodopsin and photopsin to better photoreceptors; an added fourth cone: tetrachromacy; Larger optic nerves. This clone will see colors his brothers never would, he’d see clearly in the night and farther in the day. 

Over the course of a week, these four enhanced clones were created. The more one manipulated genes, the larger the margin for genetic mutations. The manipulation of DNA is to affect how proteins build the body, the manipulation of proteins is to change the foundation of a house while the framework is already up. That is why this is a test, Nala Se told herself. It was likely these clones would not survive, many base clones already didn’t survive. There were already many undesirable mutations to be fixed in the standard clone. Millions of clones were created, heart defects, missing cones in the eyes, the misformation of bones; all those mutations became a greater risk the more chromosomes were changed. DNA started to self-destruct on itself. For all the clones that were in this facility alone, there were just as many that were quickly discarded when defects like those were spotted. There were already signs of congenital defects in her experimental unit. Nala Se knew that even if all these clones survived, even if  they all lived, their life would forever be a struggle. If not due to error in their creation than the lifetime promise of war.

As the lights of this private lab dimmed for the evening, Nala Se reached out her hand for a young girl to take. This young girl took Nala Se’s hand, looking once behind her at the four tubes growing her brothers. 

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

It's been such a wonderful experience for me. It was definitely challenging. I hope you check it out. Read the full fic here.

[toomanyhyperfixations]

Imagine that Molly becomes so depressed and lonely after losing Scratch that she eventually "gives up the ghost" the same way he did. When Scratch eventually comes back, he has to help bring her back to life the same way she did for him.

[chericherilvr]

if I shared random non fanfic things I write would y'all fuck with it?? cause I have a poem I think would kill a couple of you that I wanna share

[pearlypairings]

Pssst.

Hey.

Hey you...

I did something, mmm, kinda out of the ordinary for my usual writing routine. AKA started a fic that's not hellcheer for once😅 forgive me Father Eddie, for I have sinned—

jonathan x chrissy | wip : 6k wc | slowburn, angst, eventual fluff | ch 2/?

summary: a photography commission from the unofficial Queen of Hawkins for her boyfriend sends introverted Jonathan Byers on a reluctant journey, discovering not all cheerleaders are the same. Some are very observant, thoughtful, and even full of self-doubt and responsibility like him...

read below the line for a preview :)

Jonathan carefully plucked the latest batch of photos from the first wash bin. The darkroom was bathed in red with the faint hum of the safelights burrowing into the background, Jonathan’s focus undeterred by the constant buzzing. Whenever he pulled those heavy darkroom curtains closed, he drifted into another world, a state of perfect flow for his work.

Last weekend he’d spent over 6 hours stalking through the woods, hoping to find the perfect overcast shadows over Skull Rock or a fawn grazing on the new growth at the edge of the pines. Instead, Jonathan had stumbled upon the ruins of a Hawkins High party, practically apocalyptic in nature with the way cans, bottles, and clothes were left strewn about the brush and the earth floor.

He had nearly rushed through the littered party ruins until a glint of the noon sun caught his eye. Under the cover of a weedy fern, a dainty gold necklace glimmered in the light, half-covered in patches of dirt and surrounded by a heavy shoe print, a thick-soled sneaker by the looks of the imprint. It was almost too poetic; the year of his graduation stuck out from under the dirt, bathed in a golden light, while the chain buckled under the dirt and grime of the life around it, like dismal foreshadowing.

Minutes ticked on as he adjusted his camera’s lens for a close-up, leaning back on his left foot to get the angle just right for the flare above the "86" pendant. He snapped two just in case—keeping his fingers crossed that he captured the foreboding atmosphere. There was something magnetic about it.

The rest of the afternoon he shot about a dozen more photos, including a rabbit poking its head out from its burrow which the older Hawkins folk would adore, a family of mossy stones congregating by a snaking vine, and a majestic hawk, brownish in color, opening its wide wingspan from its perch on the pine tree.

Not his best nature photography by his own scale, but there had to be something usable for the Hawkins Post, who always seemed in need of decent local photography to accompany their articles. He’d already been featured twice this past summer from his photos of the town fair and the downtown block party.

Jonathan had to wait until today to process the film; Tuesdays were when Mrs. Franklin unlocked the school’s darkroom for the school newspaper, The Weekly Streak, and the yearbook club. Jonathan had joined both groups in order to utilize the room for free and made sure to at least do the bare minimum for each club meeting. Mrs. Franklin turned a blind eye whenever he brought in his own film to develop, casually complimenting his artsy photos of sad, empty parking lots, once even slipping him a Lincoln to tuck a portrait of a distant stranger at Lover’s Lake into her spiral agenda.

Being a senior meant he only had one more year to take advantage of free film developing, a perk he never took for granted, since his part-time job at the Hawk barely covered the extra groceries at home—let alone stuff for Jonathan’s expensive hobby. Film added up pretty quickly, so whatever change was left over from his paycheck, he scrimped and saved until he could buy another 33mm cartridge from Melvald’s. The supplies for developing were way more than that and harder to conserve. With that somber idea in mind, he took care in transferring the first three photos from the prep solution to the next chemical mixture, not wasting a single scrap of this opportunity.

Some days he wondered if the acrid fumes helped or hindered him, the chemicals seeping into the air with a heavy, almost-metallic smell. As a freshman, it used to burn his nose, his eyes, any of the sensitive sources for sensation. Three years of experience later, he barely noticed any odor, having drifted with the humming of the safelights into the background of his awareness.

With the last slosh of the bath, Jonathan nearly jumped with the classroom light suddenly poking through the slit of the door creaking opening. If these photos were ruined, he’d have to start the painstakingly lengthy process all over again from the negatives. Fred Benson, another senior in the journalism club, had a habit of ignoring the “in use: keep out” sign and incidentally destroying all of Jonathan’s hardwork with his objectionable entrances.

Jonathan sighed, almost a groan by its volume, in exasperation. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Fred’s incessant questions right now; he always seemed to have special requests for his articles at the last minute. And while he claimed to prefer Jonathan’s work to the other student photographers, it never stopped him from making Jonathan retake photos of the same art class gallery or demanding another professional headshot for his college portfolio.

He covered the bins and snuck past the curtain protecting the developing photos, narrowing his eyes at the unwelcome thorn in his side. “Fr–”

“I��m sorry,” The voice that interrupted was sweet, meek even. Definitely not Fred’s weasley intonation and that caught Jonathan off guard. “Fred said it was okay to come in, but I should have waited—you look busy.”

Chrissy Cunningham shrunk her frame, her arms crossed over her cheer sweater, with the dip of her head showing off the blonde bangs perfectly coiffed over her brows......

More in the link:)

[theangelshavethephonebox]

Cozy

Rallennia are happy and nothing bad happened! drabble 4 u @starryeyedgazer

[lit-in-thy-heart]

bitter is the antidote

Rating: Teen+

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Gwaine & Lancelot & Merlin, Gwaine & Merlin, Gwaine & Lancelot, Lancelot & Merlin, Lancelot & Percival

Characters: Gwaine, Lancelot, Merlin, Percival

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jealous Gwaine, watch gwaine come to so many wrong conclusions in real time, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic, casual touches, well in theory but they're all useless with the casual part, Pre-Slash, eating an apple with a knife, Insecure Gwaine, Protective Lancelot, gwaine gets to be a bit of a bitch, Self-Esteem Issues, Loneliness, shockingly no dick jokes, Hurt Merlin, Angst, Self-Hatred, but largely mild, Episode: s03e10 Queen of Hearts, Canon Era, Good Friend Lancelot, POV Merlin, POV Lancelot, POV Gwaine, Injury, Burns, it's not graphic but there is a description of the appearance, Supportive Lancelot, man literally meets gwaine and is like well if merlin likes him then i'm sure he's great, Percival's family, sharing food, Existential Crisis, Sort Of, there will be a follow-up landing relatively soon, hopefully, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Words: 21,947

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: ‘I heard you using magic! I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me,’ added the voice.

The tone was familiar, in the same way that the sea and the sky was, even as the tides changed and the clouds burned in pyres that transformed their hue every night. It eddied through Merlin’s memory in plumes of drunken laughter and soft words spoken by firelight and, before he could stop himself, his mouth was opening. ‘Gwaine?’

The first hiccup in Merlin's plan to save Gwen from the flames by aging himself was not being able to undo it as easily. The second hiccup was Gaius not showing up with the potion to do it for him. This third consequence feels less like a hiccup and more like a soul-crushing revelation. Well, fourth. Ending up on a lit pyre is a rather significant consequence.

Opening:

Merlin had been expecting Gaius to be waiting by the doorway to the courtyard. He had been expecting the potion to be bundled into his hands, with some false curse bestowed upon him for such wickedness, and for him to be able to breathe a little more freely again. But, as Merlin was escorted towards the pyre by Camelot’s guards and Arthur, Gaius was nowhere to be seen – not on the fringes of the crowd, at least. He nearly walked into the back of Arthur as the latter suddenly stopped, so preoccupied was he with trying to spot Gaius. The timbre of the voice that carried out across the courtyard was familiar and, when Merlin glanced up, it was issuing from Uther’s mouth, but the words mingled with the wind clawing at the clothes of the crowd and blew past Merlin’s ears. Merlin forced his body to remain still even as his eyes furtively leapt from face to face around him, searching for any indication that Gaius was there and would be able to save him. ‘...destroy Camelot.’ Uther’s final two words cut through Merlin’s desperation as he was recalled to reality by a tight grip on both of his arms. Even with the blood draining from his face as he was pulled closer to the pyre, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little incredulity. Planting a poultice to make Arthur and a commoner fall in love, as Uther believed he had done, was hardly torching the citadel. Though apparently it warranted torching him. Merlin understood – well, strictly speaking, he didn’t really understand, more he was aware – that any indication of magic had Uther digging out the flint, but the whole thing did seem a little excessive. He hadn’t tried to kill anyone. Well. Not for a while, anyway, and it hadn’t been anyone that hadn’t tried to kill him first.

Written for the Merlin Bingo prompt 'canon divergence'

Read on ao3

[namethestars]

anyway might post something new for the series this week...

[burgerspeople]

I have the bulk of the next two Turbulence chapters typed up. I need to fill in some stuff, but I have the major events written.

oof is all I'm saying

[rorimoon9597]

I'm working on the next part of 'Finding Altn-251' and it's angsty bc i was just in an angsty mood when I started on it. I have no clue when I'll post it tho, hopefully soon

[leviscolwill]

zowa made me want to write a gavi fic 🏃🏻‍♀️

[butchsquatch]

What's up nerds i have to get this shit out of my head!

Erase The Past and Never Hesitate (1979 words) by butchsquatch Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Solomon Reed/V (Cyberpunk 2077) Characters: Solomon Reed (Cyberpunk 2077), V (Cyberpunk 2077), Song So Mi "Songbird" Additional Tags: Cyberpunk OC Viko - Freeform, Post-Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077), Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Trans Male V (Cyberpunk 2077), Angst, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Therapy, more tags to be added as I write more Summary: DC is a new life for Viko but he's still haunted by the actions of his past in Night City and Dogtown. Can he get through it with therapy and a friend on his side?

[female-fogbank]

Hi! could you do kirk/la'an in the gym for sexy enterprise bingo?

Not one of my ships...anonny, but for one time only, I did get some inspiration. It's not smut...but it is a little steamy but heartaching... don't hate me 😬

Can be read on AO3 here

La’an took her frustrations out on the punching bag. James T. Kirk was back on the Enterprise, again. It was like time was conspiring with fate to torture her. She couldn’t seem to escape him, and every time she saw him, intrusive memories of 2022 filled her head. Along with her fantasies of what could’ve been. If she were honest, the fantasy was taking her over completely. It didn’t help that he was still a charming and affable man with a soft heart wanting to help others. She could tell if given enough time, he’d burrow under her defences and decimate her. 

Knowing this, she did her very best to avoid him when he was on board. She didn’t want to tempt fate and unravel her timeline or worse break her heart all over again.

“Lieutenant Noonien-Singh,” the very man she’d been trying to not think about and avoid said. James Kirk strolled into the gym with his usual swagger and charm. 

“Lieutenant Kirk, what are you doing here?” She asked in a clipped yet professional tone. She didn’t stop punching the bag before her. She was off duty, he was the first officer of the Farragut, not the Enterprise.

“Thought I’d drop by to see if you’d take me out for that drink you owe me,” He told her, if La’an’s heart wasn’t already pounding from her workout, it would now. She felt his eyes rove her body, it was clear he was interested in more than a drink.

“Look, I think maybe I’ve given you the wrong message,” she told him, she should know as she gave it to him. She kept on looking at him, longingly to recapture the ease of friendship she had in 2022 with his alter.

“I don’t think so,” James said confidently, he grabbed the back collar of his uniform shirt. La’an paused in her workout, her eyes went wide as she caught a glimpse of his rock solid abs as his singlet rode up his trim yet firm body.

“What are you doing?” she asked incredulously, grateful she was already red faced from her workout as she felt her face burn a deeper red. She quickly looked back to the punching bag, she reminded herself that he was not for her.  No matter how many times she imagined what it would be like to sleep with him. She couldn't do it as her emotions were too involved with her ideas of how it would be like. One night stands and flings were reserved for people she would never see again, it made life easier.

“Well, if you won’t drink with me, why don’t we spar?” he asked, he pulled his gold top off and threw it to the side.

“You don’t want to fight me,” La’an told him, she threw another combo of punches and jabs at the bag. 

“I can take a punch,” he assured her, as he rolled his shoulders back and raised his hands up to take a fighting stance. La'an huffed a breath and turned to face him, she remembered his stubbornness, especially when he didn't get his way.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware but I’m an augment, taking a punch from me could literally kill you,” La’an told him, she only sparred with people who were biologically stronger like Spock or were extremely skilled like M’Benga. She already knew just looking at him that James was neither skilled nor strong enough.

“So could a bad batch of Andorian ale, doesn’t stop me from drinking it.” James said. He bent his knees slightly and took an MMA stance that was standard training for all federation officers. “Now, do I have to order you and make it more awkward for us?” he asked her in a light and jovial manner.

“You’re not my XO,” La’an reminded him, she didn’t want to spar with him. Her heart ached as he had no idea how he affected her.

“But as a first officer of a federation ship, I do technically out rank you.” He reminded her, she could see he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He gestured for her to come at him.

“Are you always this impossible?” She asked.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘persistent’ and I didn’t get to where I am by giving up. Now, come on,” he told her, she knew from the glint in his eyes that he wasn’t going to give up and decided to concede.

If they sparred then maybe he would stop harping on about the drink and she can go back pretending she never knew him. Well, technically she still didn’t know him, it was supposed to be easier that way. Just keep up the well-constructed walls around herself, to keep her heart and sanity intact. But it would help if he left her alone.

“Fine, but I want it on record that when, not if…when you end up in medical, that you won’t reprimand me,” La’an told him as they moved to the sparring mat. 

“Scout’s honour, I will take my thrashing like a man,” James said as he held up his three fingers together. 

“You were a boy scout?” La’an asked dryly.

“Shouldn’t you know that, given you accessed my personnel record?” he asked before he gave a charming smile that made her heart skip a beat.  

“Excuse me for being diligent in my duties,” she said as came at him first with a fast but gentle combo which he blocked with ease. She knew she was giving a false sense of security and confidence. But she’d seen how men got when they lost too quickly. 

“I looked into you too,”  James said, he tried to hit back but La’an was faster. She caught his fist and threw him to the ground.

“Why?” she asked, she stepped back as James rolled to his feet.

“Security officer calls me in the middle of the night to ask me a random question that she could easily find in the database. It got my attention,” He told her. 

“Databases are only as good as the people imputing the information,” La’an said, making excuses. She couldn’t tell him the truth and that would always be the problem between them. They danced around each other, throwing punches, dodging them.

“True, but there’s something here. I feel it,” James told her.

“There’s nothing,” she lied. He paused and dropped his guard as he looked at her, really looked at her.

“I don’t know who hurt you in the past, but you have some incredibly high walls on you," He told her, he groaned as La'an hit a hard punch to his side. She wanted to pretend it was an accident but his comment hit too close to home.

“I am the Chief of Security, like you, I have to maintain a professional distance from people to do my job," She told him, she came at him again but with a bit more force than she should have. But James managed to hold his own this time as it seemed like he was feeling out her fighting style. It was a fair turnabout, she realised she underestimated him when he jabbed her in the stomach.

“One would think, you’d feel comfortable relaxing with another senior officer over a drink.” He argued as he threw another punch but she parried it and slid under his arm.

“It’s not just a drink," La'an said, she elbowed him in the gut but before she could throw him to the ground, he kicked out her legs. They toppled to the ground in a heap, he landed on top of her.

“It really is,” he told her, they both looked at each other, breathless and sweaty. The position was too compromising, the way he looked at her, searching her eyes as if trying to decipher her. But even with all the unanswered questions swirling around them, there was a definite pull, that same pull she had spent months trying to ignore. 

“No, it’s never a drink, and I can’t do that,” La’an told him, she tried to shift him, but he grabbed her arms and pinned her down. 

“You know, I'm starting to think there’s something about me. Specifically me, that has you shaken up every time we cross paths. I see the way you look at me. So, what is it?” he demanded in a low voice, he went straight for the throat, metaphorically speaking.

“You remind me of someone I once knew," La'an confessed, she knew she was treading a fine line but she couldn’t lie. She also couldn't be needlessly cruel to him either as it would break her.

“He was…” La'an swallowed as hot unshed tears burned the back of her eyes, “A friend, but maybe in a different life it could’ve been more. He died during the war," she said, she watched his expression soften into one of empathy. She knew he assumed she was talking about the Klingon war, not whatever the hell the temporal agents and the Romulans were doing. She couldn't tell him, couldn't tell anyone, the same rules she kept repeating to herself over and over.

“I'm sorry, but-” He started softly, she cut him off as anger boiled up in her as she knew the speech he was about to give by heart. One didn’t survive the Gorn and endure the Klingon war without being told how death was inevitable. 

“Don’t give me the speech about war, sacrifice and how we all die, how death is inevitable-" she didn't get to finish her tirade or push him off of her. He kissed her, it was electric and yet so achingly familiar like they kissed before. 

When James pulled back, he looked surprised at what passed between them. La'an grabbed his singlet and pulled him back down. She kissed him, wondering if it was a fluke. But it wasn't, her body came alive, she moaned as his tongue smoothed over hers, his hands roamed. She wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened, fiery arousal burned through her. She caved into the desires that she'd ignored for too long.

She gave into it. Gave into the fantasy and allowed herself the pleasure of letting go. His kisses, the touch of his hands on her skin were everything. He pushed a leg between her legs and pressed himself against her. The hardness of his erection, his fingers smoothed over skin, pleasure washed through her veins. When his hand slid under her top and squeezed her breast, she woke up from her fantasy, this wasn’t 2022. This was very real, very dangerous, she was willing to risk the consequences. She tore her mouth from his.

“I can’t do this, we can’t do this,” she told him, both were entirely breathless and thoroughly unsated. It wasn't fair but fate had dealt them a cruel hand. 

“Maybe we should, I've never felt anything like this before,” he said. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Just as he was about to kiss her again, La'an shook her head, he pulled back and looked down at her, confused and a little hurt. 

But he respected her boundaries as he pulled his hand out from under her top and rolled off of her. She had to fight not to whimper as she missed the intimate contact of their bodies.

“It won’t end well, I - I just can’t take that risk,” she said, she haphazardly got to her feet. Her heart and body were warring with her mind, it was all too much. She had to leave before she forgot herself again and took what she wanted, damn the consequences.

“La'an, I think your friend of yours... He'd want you to be happy, to let people in which is why I’m not giving up on you or that drink you owe me,” he told her, La’an couldn’t think of a reply so instead she did what she always did with James. She walked away.