#I love some good angst

[marthafanaamay]

Charlie giving false hope angst

Okay so it's a pretty common theory that Lilith and Lucifer are divorced since she has been gone for 7 years. Charlie would totally come to this same conclusion despite her dad still wearing his wedding ring and referring to Lilith as his wife instead of his ex. Meanwhile, Charlie notices that Alastor has become smitten with Lucifer and she immediately jumps into "omg two dads" mode and encourages the Radio Demon to pursue her dad. However, just as Charlie finally convinces Alastor to confess his feelings, Lilith finally shows up. Lucifer and Lilith are all lovey-dovey because they never split up. Everyone in the hotel just thought Lucifer was in denial each time he said that they were still together. Now Alastor is heartbroken and poor Charlie feels so GUILTY for giving her friend false hope.

[tardxsblues]

Doctor Who | Mummy on the Orient Express

Sometimes, the only choices you have are bad ones. But you still have to choose.

[coffeecatcraze]

The fact that Vaggie knew it was a HORRIBLE idea for her to go to Heaven because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many bad memories there, but her girlfriend needed her and she couldn't say no to her cute face; the fact that the headstrong, optimistic, determined, powerful Princess of Hell knew she couldn't handle taking this huge step alone and the only one person she could imagine being by her side in that critical moment was Vaggie.

The fact that even when she felt so hurt, heartbroken, and betrayed and tried for a second to deny it, Charlie never stopped loving Vaggie, still referred to her as her girlfriend, and had full faith that she was completely succeeding in her task (getting detailed sensitive information from a weapons-dealing Overlord) while Charlie herself was struggling and failing with her own.

The fact that even with Charlie so upset that she intentionally threw a painful commentbat her (a comment with a subtle double meaning, though Charlie herself was definitely NOT thinking clearly enough to realize that implication and only meant to make a jab at the secret-keeping), Vaggie still wanted so desperately to protect Charlie out of love that she regrew angelic wings despite having been in Hell for years.

The fact that one gesture from Charlie told Vaggie everything she wanted to say to her, and that mutual understanding was so complete that she didn't hesitate to run to her knowing she would be accepted because her girlfriend still loved her and forgave her.

The support, love, and intimate understanding these two share even when things are hard and painful is so beautiful. They've been together for years; they've been through so much; and it's wonderful to have that respected and portrayed canonically instead of dipping into that easy, fan-craved trope of dramatically heavy relationship angst. I'm glad they left that angst itch to be scratched by fanworks instead, because these ladies aren't that type.

They are powerful; they are determined; they balance and complete each other; and most importantly, they are so head-over-heels and experienced in their love for each other that it took one day for Charlie to deeply consider everything and fully reconcile with Vaggie, who never doubted her even for a second. Their relationship isn't just established; it's stable, and I love to see that for a wlw couple. <3

[muttghoul]

All respect to the people who found the Imperator death scene genuinely sad but personally I think seeing Copia throw himself over her coffin like a discarded muppet and make some of the most dramatically fake crying noises I’ve ever heard in my life was arguably the funniest moment of the film

[thatskindarough]

I’m not sure about anyone else but I personally have a pretty hard time finding Aziraphale centric fics. Crowley centric fics are really easy to find, stuff that splits C/A evenly is also pretty easy to find.

So I think we should start a thread of Aziraphale centric fics (or at least ones where he gets to take a major role in.)

I’ll go first:

These are the Soul by Mikripetra—This is my comfort fic I love it with my entire being.

Starmaker and Starlight by Nohaljiachi—This one just made me very happy then very sad. It focuses on Aziraphale before the beginning, coming to be friends with the starmaker (angel Crowley)

Prax In Terris —by Oatmeal Addiction I love this one because it captures the spirit of good omens perfectly. Genuinely if s3 was a fanfiction this (and the other fic in this series) is what I’d want it to be. Now it is not exactly Aziraphale centric, it does split time pretty evenly with Crowley and Muriel, but I love Aziraphale’s role in this, and he gets to be really interesting and stubborn. (Maybe not for all readers who dislike face value interpretations of the FF though.) It’s a wip about the second coming and I’m very curious where the author is gonna take it.

If you want, please feel free to add any Aziraphale centric fics to this post and also please shamelessly self-rec your own fics

(Edited to add the author names and also to say thank you for everyone recommending things, it makes me and I’m sure other Aziraphale fans very happy!)

[dustykneed]

good luck, babes! 💙💛

maybe i should write a fic. hmm

(edit: if you wanted to know my personal interpretation... watch the can in bones' hand. and the colors mean things loll. i think i'll make an explanation tomorrow just for fun)

[itsnotmourn]

OH MY GOD ITS CARMEN AND RICHARD

[spooky-activity]

Practicing my comic paneling and action poses with some Firefly/Stelle angst. Set immediately after the end of patch 2.1, where we find out Firefly is still alive!

+ bonus

[littlelightfish]

Kuro is always the one to die first. Mickbell is the one that has to go through the anguish of knowing he saw the only one he truly considers a family die. Look at his face when he realizes Kuro died/is going to die.

Mickbell doesn't cry here because he's afraid for his own safety or scared of what just happened. He cries because Kuro put himself into great danger and got killed.

I'll always wonder what would happen if Mick gets killed first.

[insignificant457]

There is a nebulous jordie lives au which lives entirely in my head in which jordie recovers from the plague while Kaz is still sick. He gets up to find them food and water only to return and discover Kaz is nowhere to be found. Still recovering from the fever, he searches the barrel for days before he finally sees Kaz wandering down the staves in a sort of fugue state, soaked to the bone with a haunted look in his eyes.

Kaz won’t tell him what happened, but jordie knows it’s bad because his baby brother flinches every time he touches him, and soon enough he’s started wearing gloves, even in the height of summer.

Soon, they discover kazs gift for cards, and it keeps them fed and clothed, if not much else. Kaz is angry at jordie for losing the money, refuses to let him make any decisions. Jordie is beholden to his angry traumatized little brother because he can’t deny that he failed them the first time around.

Kaz is offered a place in his pick of the gangs, but the only one willing to take both him and his tag along older brother is the dregs. Jordie dies a little bit inside when they join up, when they take the tattoo side by side, but he’s not sure they’ll survive another winter on the streets.

And the plot of SoC generally goes on from there. Jordie tags along on the ice court, he and Jesper test kazs patience at every turn, he’s constantly offering unsolicited annoying older brother advice about Inej.

This lends itself to a really interesting exploration of Kaz and jordies relationship, what holds brothers together in the face of incredible trauma, the skewed power dynamic of Kaz becoming the breadwinner for them both at the age of nine, etc etc. But mostly, this au is a vessel for the sailing of the ultimate crack ship, which is of course, jordie/alys Van Eck.

[bluebutlikenotalways]

And so we return, as all things do, to Centaurworld.

[X] Should I draw Nowhere King Black Pearl? Vote now!

ALSO! White Pearl’s design is once again cosmicwhoreo’s

Actually I’m not leaving this in the tags. I loved doing those funky backgrounds, but it also means a diversity loss because he fucking speared her on bisexual beach DX

[landedinpayne]

in case you are in the mood to feel devastated here’s an alternate way of viewing charles’ response to edwin’s confession:

we know that charles kinda puts edwin on a pedestal- yes they are partners but there is a bit of a hierarchy between them. charles just looks up to and admires edwin in so many ways while constantly looking down on and being really hard on himself. he puts on his big happy persona because he thinks that people wouldn’t like him if they actually got to know him.

so when edwin confesses, it’s like a blow to him. he took his charming persona too far and went and tricked the most important person in the world into thinking he was worthy of love. and it’s worse because he does love edwin in that way, which is exactly why he can’t let him know that. charles still believes that he is like his dad, and he saw exactly what his parents’ relationship did to his mother.

he thinks that loving edwin in the way that he wants to would only cause more pain to this boy who has already been through far more than he deserves. so he blinks back his tears, attempts the same charming smile he’s used all these years, and dishes out the gentlest non-rejection in the history of forever

[johannesburchard]

wait wait wait. jonsa AU in real medieval times where jon becomes a priest for basically the same reasons he joins the night's watch (thinks he's ned's illegitimate son, no inheritance, more opportunities for advancement, catelyn doesn't want him to stay, etc.) and he rises through the ranks ridiculously fast because of his noble heritage and because church officials keep being executed for getting embroiled in plots related to the disputed sucession... and then sansa flees to her brother, the like 20-year-old bishop of some far northern diocese, for safety after escaping her evil guardian petyr's clutches... and jon is all disillusioned with the church after realizing that everyone around him cares more about money and power than religion, and he's just desperately trying to ensure the people in the region have food and shelter in the face of the oncoming winter while doing his best to ignore everyone trying to persuade him to get involved in the succession disputes... and it's basically canon!jonsa post-reunion except with added religious guilt! :D

there's gotta be at least one scene of jon agonizing over whether or not to write the pope to beg for the annulment of sansa's marriage. on the one hand, what does he even have the authority of a bishop for if not for situations such as this... on the other hand, the fact that she's still technically someone else's wife is the only thing still keeping him from breaking his vows with her in the wake of the parentage reveal...

meanwhile sansa is kneeling at the altar every day begging god to set jon free and let her have him instead... she's like bargaining and promising to dedicate one of their children to the church in his stead or to set aside funds to establish a new convent or something as long as god will forgive jon for renouncing his priesthood... :D

[euphietea]

a few Wind Breaker hcs.

umemiya. would really love and adore having a family of his own. signs up for every parenting class available and has a notebook of every piece of advice from each person in town. surprisingly doesn't freak out about the things that can go wrong and instead talks about the future.

suo. is a romantic at heart. not that he swoons at romance, but he is naturally very confident in his approach to it, but not obviously so. it's a subtle type of romance. he isn't shy to give compliments, gifts, signs of affection. if anyone says something about the person he enjoys, he'd be sure to repay the favor.

jou. into adulthood, he would have a completed horimono. they tell a story and were done by a friend of a friend of an elderly man he jokes with at the bath house. it would most likely be in the munewari style. while getting it done, he is relatively quiet and uses the time to reflect.

kaji. very gentle with his partner in most realms. doesn't have a lot of romantic history and so any affection is treated like a precious stone. he cherishes that stone, but holding it in his hands terrifies him. the thought of breaking it is too much for him handle, so he would rather look at it from afar.

[naffeclipse]

Argentate Bullet

Cryptid Hunter!Reader x Cryptid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this wonderful fic commissioned by @rosescarletful involving the cryptid hunter, cryptid Eclipse, and a night under the full moon. A monster lurks somewhere close! This is teeming with angst but such things make the hurt/comfort all the sweeter, I promise <3

Content Warning for angst, blood, body horror, and death.

———

In the dense woods outside of a small, rural town, you and your dear friend begin a hunt. A howl echoes and twigs crack. The silver light of the full moon mottles the forest floor as you follow Moon. His pale eyes flash red—he senses another human. The moment you step foot into a sparse clearing of half-dead meadow grass, your heart sinks.

A young man lies groaning in the darkness, curled up and cradling his chewed arm. Blood drips freely from mangled flesh and bitten sinew.

You should have been here sooner. The cryptid sighting suggested the violent nature of the monster as insatiable, senseless. A ceaseless need for bloodshed only spells ruin and grief for anyone caught in its path. You’ve handled werewolves before. They are perfect killers under the lustrous light of night. But they fall to silver.

Together, you and Moon help the young man to his feet. He babbles about a beast with fangs and yellow eyes. A horrible hunger growled within it. The monster snatched him from the road while he was peddling his bike at the late hour, and dragged him into the woods. Before it could finish him with a snap of its maw, it fled. He doesn’t know why. A sob escapes the young man.

You have no doubt the werewolf sensed the demonic cryptid using the animatronic as a vessel. Your dear friend has scared worse monsters.

You’re lucky you two arrived when you did, but you reassure him that he’s safe now. You set your gun loaded with an argentate bullet into the map pocket of your truck door. Leaning him against the driver’s seat, you quickly rummage for a basic first-aid kit—you curse yourself for not bringing more, but rarely do you find victims of cryptids alive after an encounter and you always endure long enough to reach your airstream.

“It’s going to be okay,” you promise. You hold yourself steady, hiding your fear at the blood seeping from the young man’s arm. He cradles it close to himself. “Can you tell me your name?”

Moon looms beside you, his eyes pale and flashing. He twitches. The end of his nightcap jerks slightly with the spasm of his faceplate.

“W-warren.” The young man swallows. His eyes shine wetly. The blood coating his ravaged arm gleams dark under the moonlight. “My wallet. I lost it by my bike. Please, I have pictures of my mom and dad in it. I need it.”

“Okay,” you soothe as you finally rip open a plastic red container. Bandages immediately roll to one side in your anxious search. “I’ll get it for you after we take you to the hospital. You’re bleeding badly.”

“Please, I need it now,” he gives a ragged gasp. He looks at you, desperation filling his shining gaze as his hands tremble, slick with blood.

Your heart squeezes within you at the familiarity of needing comfort in the height of terror. 

“Moon,” you say.

“It’s still out there,” Moon warns, his hand falling to your shoulder. His long silver and blue digits press into your collarbone. “It’s not safe.”

“I know, sweetie,” you face him. Though he stands much taller, you hold his wide, glowing gaze. “His bike can’t be far. Please, will you get it?”

He stares at you. A cool breeze blows before he releases your shoulder. 

“Be careful,” he warns, then slips around the truck and back onto the faded blacktop, disappearing around a bend following the forest’s edge.

You’ll thank him when he returns. Breathing a stabilizing sigh, you face Warren and ask for his arm. His eyes don’t meet yours for a moment. His attention follows the animatronic slipping into the darkness.

“It’s alright,” you say in a low, gentle voice. “Let me get you bandaged, and as soon as Moon returns, we’ll take you to get help.”

“W-who is that,” Warren asks shakily. His fingers writhe as you support his arm. 

“My friend,” you answer softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of the scary thing. It won’t hurt you again.”

“Something isn’t right,” he whispers, terrified.

You lift your head. You fear he might pass out from the blood loss but you find his face turned towards the night sky. The moon hangs clearly in the black cosmos, big and looming like an omen.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” You hurry to tie up the bandage already soaking in crimson.

“No. It hurts.” Warren pushes you away and doubles over, clutching his face and shouting, “It hurts! Stop!”

You step back, hands up, stunned. What did you do? Why is he—

A sickening crack of bone echoes within Warren. You start, horrified, then your mind races.

No, it’s pop culture to believe a werewolf bite transforms another. There has been nothing legitimate within your research to conclude that a bite would be infectious, nor that it would trigger a transformation on the very same night. A human can’t become a cryptid.

He can’t.

Warren groans until his agonized sound slips into a high keen. A vicious growl overtakes him and rattles through your chest despite the distance. Your eyes dart to the Winchester gun stowed away in the map pocket of your truck door.

“Warren,” you say, holding out a hand and stepping closer, “It’s going to be okay—”

“Get away!” he snarls inhumanly. He swipes at you with his hand, now elongated. It bursts with a coat of fur and bears long, wicked claws. You leap out of his reach but stand weaponless.

No. It can’t be.

Warren crumples to the dirt ground. On his hands and knees, his cries of agony lift into a feral howl while the rest of his body bends and breaks. You watch, rooted in horror, as his clothes rip under the bulking strain of his new form while black fur overruns his flesh. Thick, rugged sinew cords his body. His face snaps as his jaw elongates into a muzzle. A flash of yellow eyes pierces you through the darkness. 

“Warren,” you utter. You start slowly stepping towards the bed of your truck, seeking cover—anything to put between you and the newborn werewolf. Your hands are held out. You glance again at your gun but the young man stops howling. 

He slowly lifts his head, sharp ears pinned back against his skull. Lips pull over fangs. A horrid growl stops your heart.

The werewolf hunches low and slowly pads forward. A glinting maw spills saliva. You stare at the poor young man, your pulse racing in your ears. He straightens, towering upon you with hunger glowing within inhuman eyes upon hound-like legs. The moonlight covers him in pale gray.

He lunges. You dive, throwing yourself behind your truck only to catch a wicked snap of teeth inches from your feet. A sharp inhale. Your veins burn with adrenaline. You twist back to find the werewolf rounding back, widening his jaw. He reaches a long limb forward and hooks his claws on the bummer of your truck. Vicious talons rip down the edge of it. You scramble, kicking your legs and crawling backward in your shock.

Swift footsteps cut through the darkness. The werewolf’s ears swivel before he turns a second too late. A flash of limbs, metallic and dripping black and red, knocks into the creature, sending it careening back towards the road until he rolls to a stop in a heap of furry limbs. 

You gasp in a flood of relief. Moon straightens. A wallet drops into the dirt. From out of his slim animatronic chassis, two arms, inky and clawed, spread out defensively over you.

“Moon,” you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, “It’s Warren.”

“Get your gun.” Moon spares you a glance of bright red optics. “We shouldn’t have left you.”

There’s nothing you can say now. You breathlessly slip back behind your friend, rushing down the length of your truck. Moon’s many limbs writhe as he stares down the monster rising back to his paws with vicious growls.

Passing the claw marks carved into your bumper, you dart for your weapon. Behind you, a snarl rips across the road’s edge. Your heart leaps into your throat. You crash against the door and frantically pry out the Winchester from the map pocket.

The barrel gleams darkly in the moonlight. The smooth, carved handle holds intricate designs in the wood. You check with hands threatening to tremble that it’s still loaded. Hidden within is a shiny silver bullet.

You turn back to face the cryptid. In a powerful leap off his hind legs, the werewolf attacks. Moon lifts his four arms to catch the monster and hold it off, staggering back under the force. The snap of teeth nearly snags Moon’s nightcap and vicious claws swipe nearly slice through his chassis. You straighten, standing solid on your feet, and aim your gun. Your dear friend and the young man now cursed thrash together in a blend of demonic and lycanthropy. 

The werewolf towers over Moon who remains in his vessel, unable to spare a moment to escape the confines of it while fending off the vicious cryptid. You cry out a warning. 

In a heartbeat, the cryptid unbalances Moon, dropping him to the ground with a powerful blow of his large paw. The sharp clank of metal on the dirt freezes your blood. Red-dipped cryptid arms rake over the werewolf. Tufts of fur and flesh tear away but the monster gives no thought to the slashes as Moon unleashes an unearthly growl.

Your hands clench around the gun, pulse racing. The werewolf rears back under the moonlight, teeth exposed, jaws wide, and strikes for Moon’s spindly neck.

You squeeze the trigger. The echoing blast cuts through the night air, and a small hole within the werewolf bubbles blood, spilling down his chest. The werewolf slumps with a gurgle, then silence.

Moon grunts once before four limbs push the carcass off of him. With a meaty thump, the cryptid lies on the dirt, dead. 

You stare. Slowly lowering the gun, you stare unblinkingly. Tears brim your eyes. A haze of silver light and blood pooling underneath the furred cryptid overtakes you.

“Moon,” you say, your voice sounds strange, strained. “He wasn’t a cryptid. He was just bitten. He didn’t—He’s not—”

How can you shoot this monster when he’s just a person caught in very awful circumstances? All your other hunts were simple. They were only cryptids, not victims. 

You didn’t protect him.

You lower your hands. A hollowed coldness seeps into your chest cavity. The animatronic lies still as black ooze slips from crevices and cracks, accumulating into a lithe, towering figure with four limbs. Eclipse straightens slowly, watching you closely with red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Heart,” a deep rumble touches you, familiar and safe, but you shake. “You protected us.”

The demonic cryptid slips closer. His many hands reach for you, one trailing down your wrist before slipping the gun from your quaking grasp.

“He didn’t ask to become this,” your voice cracks.

“You didn’t know.” Two large, cool hands cup your face. Tilting your head up to meet their wide eyes, Eclipse softly growls, “It’s not your fault. If you didn’t stop him, he would have caused more harm. He would have joined the other monster in hurting people.”

Tears spill down your cheeks. You grasp his wrists, fingernails sinking into their dark red and deep blue being.

“I needed to—I should’ve—” you gasp a ragged sound, fighting a sob. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

“You did what was right, heart,” Eclipse’s wide jaw with razor-thin fangs lower to you. A crown of frills and horns tilt softly as they lightly flick a long, oily tongue to your cheek in comfort. “Please, don’t blame yourself. We shouldn’t have left your side. If we had stayed, we could have subdued him before he attacked.”

You cling tighter to their anchoring hold. A soft sound echoes as they set the gun on the truck seat before returning their lower arms to rest on your waist, gathering you close to cradle you against them. 

They bow over you. Four limbs, clawed and full of strength, keep you from falling. You press your cheek against their cool, slick chest. Weeping, you cave into their comfort while a young man lies dead in a form he never could have wanted for himself.

[ahhrenata]

excited to finally share my @steddiebang pieces for appledagger’s (twitter) amazing fic:

Of Space and Time

this story was such a thrill to read and i highly recommend checking it out!

appledagger, thank you! you’ve created a wonderful au and I’ve absolutely enjoyed working with you throughout this project! 🧡