#anquish

[erikvelema]

Overtuigd van de Waarheid!

[squishosaur]

i think the media is consuming me actually

[canisalbus]

Sorry if this has been asked a bunch of times already but...How did they meet?

In the original canon, they were both studing theology in Venice at the same time. Vasco had been sent there by his parents, who had recently found out he's gay and hoped that proper strict education would straighten him up. Machete's former mentor had just became a bishop and no longer had time for keeping an apprentice, so he funded his further studies as a rare display of goodwill. Their classes overlapped a little bit so they knew each other by sight, but they mostly hang around in different circles. Vasco was well liked in his friend group which consisted of other sons of rich nobles, and Machete spent a lot of his free time voluntarily helping teachers and professors around the faculty or kept to himself. One of Vasco's buddies started picking on Machete and Vasco (as an overprotective 'can't have people feeling bad or sad around him' good boy he is) felt responsible and started following him around (mostly to soothe his own guilty conscience) and eventually they became friends.

Over time their relationship started to gain romantic tones and they ended up living together in a tiny rented attic room. I'm not sure how their break up played out exactly, but in the end Machete graduated and went on to be ordained as a priest (a goal he had trained for all his life), while Vasco dropped out and reluctantly returned to his parents, who swiftly forced him into a lavender marriage to cover up his sexuality. I can imagine them anquishing over the situation as the end loomed ever closer, trying to come up with a scenario where they could still secretly be together. Unfortunately at least one of them would have to throw away a promising future for a plan that could fail at any time. The price was too high and the risks were immense so they just had to allow the separation to happen. Some 10+ years later they meet again by random chance, Machete has advanced in his career rapidly and is now a cardinal secretary of state, and Vasco has followed his father's footsteps into politics and works as a Florentine ambassador. Since both of their jobs center around diplomacy and foreign relations, they end up working together frequently, which conveniently enables them to see each other off-the-clock as well. They resume where they left off.

[milequaritchsslut]

His sun girl

Summary: He loved you, but he had to let out at some time…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Dead Reader

Warnings: Alcoholism, death, blacking out, crying, depression, isolation, sadness, loneliness

He sat in his room most days, alone with his thoughts and the dim lighting that he allowed to stay on. He wasn't one to talk about you anymore, you were in the past. But so was he—it was like he was stuck without you. Almost like someone paused his movie and never turned it back on after you died. Yeah that's what it felt like—just that. He had no control over moving on or staying put in his agony. It wasn't like he wanted to move on either, he was ok with sulking and rotting away in his apartment alone.

He loved looking at your pictures—it gave him some sense of comfort, knowing that he still had small pieces of you with him. He loved you more then you could've ever known, he adored everything you did. Even when you weren't so amazing, when you would come home drunk and yell at him. You had promised that you would've stopped—he begged you to keep that promise. But like they say once a cheater—always a cheater. And sadly you led yourself to your own demise, you had one too many shots that night. Collapsing to the ground and laying unconscious—he rushed to the hospital when the paramedics called him. Worry and sorrow filling him as he realized he was too late—you left him before he could even say goodbye.

He sobbed into his hands-falling to his knees next to your hospital bed. Tears streaming down his rosy cheeks and staining his clothing. His heart was smashed onto the ground, the pieces scattering and spread around the room.

It seemed his world was taken from him that day-what had he done so wrong? All he ever did was love and care for you gave you all he had left in him. But it seemed it was your time, time to let you go—even though he desperately didn't want to. But that wasn't really his choice was it? No it certainly wasn't—so he didn't move on. He stayed put—replaying that day in his head for the last 7 months and crying and wailing for you to come back and just let him tell you how much he loves you. That's all he really asked for—was that he could've just told you how much he loved you.

That he would've torn the sun from the sky itself if it would've made you happy-or maybe you wanted a scorching hot star? He would've flown into space and grabbed one—letting it burn his hands to a crisp, but that would've been ok. Because it was for you, and if it made you happy then his pain didn't matter.

He remembers that you liked the sun, you bathed in it every day. Even when you got sunburnt you still went out and enjoyed it -he called you his sun girl. You acted like the sun too-always so ready for the next day and excited. You were the brightest star in his sky—the only one really. You were the reason he got up in the morning and the reason he had a smile on his face. The second you left-so did that smile, that smile you loved so much and adored. He lived in anquish and sorrow now-no light shining through his life. Nobody saw him smile—actually nobody really saw him at all. He never went out—he never ate—he never went on missions—he never did anything. Not without his sun girl

Taglist: @jennieskimichi @addictiontowardstheinternet @rawegggohan @raaaaainn @horror-cassettes @adrunkskeletonsduck @nejirehh @222a1yssa @beiroviski i @lana-4life @ladyfairenvale

[randompenname]

No More Nightingales

I had a dream that made me wake up crying, so naturally I am bringing you into my trauma for company.

So far as we know Crowley has never killed. Hell, this man had to talk him into littering and his big evil accomplishment was moving a few road markers. He made a point to say he goes along with Hell as far as he can, then he doesn't. It is a line in the sand that he has paid for, more than once.

Now to the dream.

Crowley is sitting on their bench, post divorce. Typical park scene, ducks quacking, birds singing, kids playing, people selling ice cream etc.

Our Hero is not doing well, he tries to hide it. Glasses on. Jaw clenched. Lips set to a thin line. Torn between anquish and anger. His arm which is, as always, draped along the back of the bench, leading to long spindle like fingers that twitch in an ill hidden effort to fight for composure.

Then he can't anymore.

With a upward snap, his fingers close into a fist and something falls from a nearby tree. Small and unnoticed by most in the hustle and bussle of the park. Crowley however notices. He knows exactly what it is.

What it was.

He can't make himself look at it. He feels sick.

He unfurls those long limbs and makes a hastey exit for the Bentley. Barely maintaing the restraint to walk when all he wants to do is run.

Unbeknownst to the vanished duke, stands a man in a familar suit. Watching the whole affair with baited breath and broken heart. Only once the sounds of Bentley have entirely faded away does he approach the small figure which has fallen from the tree.

He fails to stifle a soft sob as he mutters feverent apologies. His hands shake as he cradles the still warm, but quite dead, nightingale to his chest before he too, turns and walks out of sight.

The End

[orangesideirrational]

(inspired by this post :> )

text reads-

yeah i have SEX

S tomach aches and severe anxiety

E xtreme mental anquish over every decision i make

X dinosaur

[reillyissof]

NELL SHEET! this drawing caused me a bunch of anquish I kept starting and stopping it and I kept forgetting his side lines so I did alot of tweaks adding and fixing those and then remebering to make them glow. having a hard time with drawing so its easier for me to go into my backlog and finally digitlize which ive been putting off. I think it turned out pretty good first time doing real poses and side drawings like this. Im pretty happy with it! Ultraman nell!

[protoslacker]

All of us have a different view of the world, but I would like to put forward the following universal ideas as the rules of fair treatment that I personally would like to live by:

§ First, I cannot be free while my neighbor is wearing chains.

§ Second, I cannot know happiness while others are forced to live in despair.

§ Third, I cannot know health if plague and famine thrive outside my door.

§ And last, but not least, I cannot expect to know peace if war rides forward under my flag and with my consent.

Walter Mosely in The Nation, January 9,2003. An African-American Appeal for Peace

It’s time to come up with a new notion of civil rights and peaceful negotiation.

____

After the attack on The WorldTrade Center I felt anquish about the majority percieved as the right things to do. This essay ressonated deeply.

[kmp78]

THINGY'S UN-OFFICIAL FUNERAL SERVICE:

"Miss Thingy... you gave us more than we asked for and deserved, you provided us with fun and in returned we gave you nothing. You will not be forgotten... at least by us. Open your wings, fly away and be free... so long, my friend... so long.

Goodbye."

R.I.P Thingy 💔

In times of sadness and anquish, let's remember the immortal words of Dr. Tobias Fünke: "Soooomewheeeere over the rainbooooow... there's another rainboooow..." 🌈

(IYKYK and I won't explain further. 😂)

[uroborae]

viii. shed

And when the light returns;

when it bursts from the seams, splits flesh into gilded cracks and the ivory sludge she wretches onto the ground stains her lips, her skin;

it had expected this from the very start.

For an auspice should, juvenile though she is, understand the very fluctuations of its soul. Where her entire disposition could shift into cataclysm, a devastation upon which would threaten the safety of those it has come to consider as friends (fortunate though that its lifestyle was enough to keep the Aramitama at bay), Astraia had not left Hell's Kier until the very nature of that precarious balance was sufficiently understood.

So upon the first inception of light, where it had taken that blinding white into its soul, she had noticed the way it had bent to contain it. Noticed as it distorted when each Lightwarden was slain, each region cleansed from their burning corruption, as she contained the miasma within. That when Y'shtola could no longer see the truth of her, when they had raised arms against what should have been seen as an ally, Astraia knew this would be a fate from which it did not expect to return.

It does not say it knows what will be.

It pretends it does not see the way Y'shtola grows to worry.

So when Innocence falls, and it knows it has taken too much, for it was after Storge when it began to crack and splinter, it makes sure it is far enough from the others when it soul begins to break.

When it fails, and it collapses beneath the strain, and wonders if dying has always felt this painful.

Or if it has taunted and denied death so much that, now caught up with her, it has condemned it to punishment.

Its avatar tries to offer mercy, dams the corruption by way of darkness, but even as the aether that swathes it becomes a checkerboard of whites and blacks, Astraia does not think it can do much against the weight. For it is a poison that stretches into each crevice, tearing her apart from within.

She is unravelling. A sinner damned. This infernal light burns its blood, burns the flesh, and there is a point where it struggles to breathe. As though its lungs have hardened into marble and its veins turned to ash.

It must look a hallow horror.

Gaze blinded by the light that erupts from it, drowning the world in a violent pallid hue, it does not, cannot, look upon the faces of its friends. Can barely hear them as they speak. It wonders, hopes, they are prepared to deal with the aftermath of her. Clever that they are, the would find a solution to the light if they had not already.

There were worse ways to be a sacrifice.

Much less when the desire to die was so very strong.

She offers again a single soul to save a world, and hopes this time it might be the last. Where it would end their torment as the final of abominations, where they might finally be free

and the agony of its soul, this loss and anquish, might cease.

"The combined power of every Lightwarden is too terrible a burden for any one soul to bear." When the Exarch steps forward (having waited, no doubt, until this very moment) when no when else will, the sigh that leaves it is one of relief. To finally know end, even if he had used her to achieve salvation, before the light takes hold

"And so I shall relieve you of it."

only for him to claim its place when it is unable to do otherwise.

To deny this sacrifice it would make for them, for his name to join the many who had given up their lives for its sake already, those it had not been enough to save

And it is like he conspires to make it hate him, but he offers such poor deception. A resolution that betrays his lies, his attempts to become their villain fractures with every word, that its feeble attempts to stop him only embolden him further. A determination for a stranger that borders on irrational, a dedication when it would be so much easier to let her go —

The wind howls and rips the hood from his head

and it all makes sense

in the worst of ways it does,

for the words it speaks next are only of a hollow, haunted understanding.

"G'raha Tia."

SHED (verb.) cast or give off (light)

[certified-anakinfucker]

i cant abandon star wars, how else will i burn excess anquish if i cant pace my room in a set of force adept’s robes with a black-hilted green-bladed lightsaber like the troubled consular i am?

[sunshineonmyshouldermyblogcom]

Psalm, Chapter 13

“O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long must I look the other way? How long must I struggle with anquish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart everyday? How long will my enemy have the upper hand? Turn and answer me, O Lord my God! Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die. Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying, ‘We have defeated him!’ Don’t let them rejoice at my…

[bogsidepoetry]

Outburst.

I cant stand this anger anymore,

the destruction and despair of a once forever more.

I cant take this confusion between us,

the tearing of our union and ability to trust.

I cannot withstand each time you dont believe,

the anquish full and broad yet still we cant find relief.

I cannot convince an aching thats buried deep within,

the truth is somewhere in the middle where 2 can both begin.

We must not turn what was beautiful into stone harsh thats cold,

We must turn from the heart that hides to one braver to be bold.

We must acknowledge what we had and what can be built upon.

We still have each other because of this,

and that cannot be wrong.

[g0thiclygh0ulish-diaries]

The Discovered Love Letters, (1890). By Carl Rudolph Sohn

Heartbreak Cures Writer's Block 

each key digs deeper into the punched hole in my chest.  pulling out with my heart, sentences dripping in blood, punctuation soaked in pain. broken rules that were broken  for no gain.

ellipsis clog up my arteries… the weight of every word  I couldn't say, knocking out the semi-colon now that the chapter is finished. fully stopped at the end of the day.

now here I sit, heart beside me as I write. bleeding tears, crying words  deep into the night. spinning hurt into life, heartache crops and edits down anquish  into creative silver linings

Kaci O'Meara ☆

[hypkigoodquotes]

deeper into his heart

Contrary to what we expect to be the case, therefore, the deeper into weakness and suffering and testing we go, the deeper Christ’s solidarity with us. As we go down into pain and anquish, we are descending ever deeper into Christ’s very heart, not away from it. Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly, p.57.