#but i am moping rn

[max-the-mouse]

this morning sucks :////////

[pochapal]

blowing a kiss to my mutuals who i have been sorely neglecting. on account of the Horrors.

[nbprincey]

I need myself a giant picture of Lennier's face on my wall. right now

[tomorrowillbeyou]

man. ok

[torgawl]

still very much obsessed with the ost from the new desert region in sumeru

[boyfeminism]

hate when my phone goes off n its not even my gf

[overwhelmed-frog]

they should invent a version of being disabled in your early twenties that isn’t so lonely

[persimmonlions]

people who ask for advice then are really hurt by that advice even though i tried to make it as soft and generic as possible: lol. lmao even

[themathomhouse]

last week, I went to see one of my best friends perform in a pole dance showcase. I had an incredible time, made all the better because my boyfriend came along. he threw himself into the theme, stayed over on their (super uncomfortable) sofa bed with me, and he told me he loved me and we talked about trips we might take together. nobody has really made that kind of effort for me before, and I know it's pretty bare minimum, but I just adore him. my friends love him, they told me how well we fit together and how wonderful it was to see me happy. I was going to spend Christmas with his poly family, who made me feel like I belonged. his wife and I were going to bake mini cookies and make an attempt at some other desserts, we were all going to play games, and Christmas was going to mean something to me again. it was going to mean love.

yesterday, he told me he didn't love me anymore and he wanted to break up.

I've never had the rug pulled out from under me like this. I feel sick, I can't eat, and everything feels like a nightmare from which I can't wake. for a brief moment when I woke up this morning I forgot, and it wasn't until I reached for my phone to text him good morning that it fell on me again and I felt like I might drown in it.

I thought I'd been in love before, but with him everything was so bright and beautiful and intense and just more. we'd been seeing each other two months when we told each other we'd fallen in love, and it was maybe two weeks after that when I realised this was it. this was what I wanted, every day, for the rest of my life. I still feel that way. he's been gone for one day and there's an empty ache where my heart used to be.

anyway I just want to make a formal apology to Bella in New Moon, bish I'm sorry that 17-year-old me was so harsh. you mope away girl this shit is the pits

[kimjunnoodle]

i started a new medication and i feel like that address tweet where they made a list

[anothertroy]

Excision - Zanias

[flamelo]

Just realized that i've had a crush on this guy for half a year, wtf I never liked anyone this long

[maraeffect]

(i need you to listen)

i do not want this body (my body is failing)

skin me like a basilisk (my body is failing)

electric cross to touch somebody (my body is failing)

justify my temperament

[sixosix]

( a/n ) light angst, hurt/comfort, PROFANITY WARNING, guys im so sorry this is so short but its all im capable of rn

special mention TYSM @earthtooz for proofreading i owe u my soul

he’s always been a little sensitive to people caring for him. he’s used to taking care of others, to have his parents let him get away with everything, and he’s spent his life isolating himself from people who would see him past what he is but for who he is.

reo rolls his shoulder to shove your hand off of him, frowning at the wall. “you know me well enough already, don’t you? you know that i hate it when you get like this.”

“this isn’t good for you, reo. you’re destroying yourself,” you snarl, jabbing at his back. “i’m sick of seeing you like this. i’m not a babysitter, nor your therapist.”

“i’m not asking you to worry about me, am i?” he snaps, finally turning to meet your eyes.

anger boils in your chest, but you let it simmer with a few deep breaths. reo isn’t thinking properly right now, raving on and on about not working hard enough, and how he isn’t catching up. “there isn’t a professional boundary between us, i care for you because i love you. right now, when you say shit like that? i can barely give a fuck about you anymore.”

reo’s sharp scowl falters around the edges, giving way to confusion. “where are you going?” he demands when you make your way to the door.

“away,” you say, slipping your shoes on and refusing to look at him. “you said you need space, right? then i’ll give it to you. we’re over.”

“fine.” his tone is biting, but his voice sounds strange. “fine…”

he’s still lethargic, you tell yourself; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he’ll regret it later. but he doesn’t stop you.

maybe if you were to glance back at him one last time, you’d see the broken expression on his face hitting him right after.

from the start, reo’s always been expecting you would leave him. everyone does that to him, anyway. even nagi, who he still considers his best friend. it was a little too good to be true with you, so he tells himself that this was bound to happen. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when it finally happens.

reo groans, shoving his face into his pillow. his friends snicker at his misery, so reo does what he needs to and flips them off with two hands. but as a groveling man with his face hidden by his sheets, it does not paint the intimidating picture he wanted.

“it hasn’t even been that long,” nagi remarks. he doesn’t spare reo a glance so unfortunately, he doesn’t get see reo flashing him with his middle finger.

“mmrgh,” reo says, still pressed against his bed.

isagi pats him on the shoulder, which doesn’t help anyone, but it’s the thought that counts.

“record him, record him, do it,” bachira says, clapping nagi on the back repeatedly, his strength enough to jostle him back and forth. obediently, nagi follows, pointing his phone camera right at a moping reo.

“day two without y/n,” nagi says to his future audience. “barely holding on.”

“i feel awful,” reo groans. “y/n blocked me.”

“do you regret what you said?” isagi asks.

“‘course i do,” reo hisses, offended that he would even ask that. “i was an asshole. y/n was right—y/n’s always right. i’m stupid.”

bachira snorts, “keep fighting, reo!” and barely manages to dodge the pillow thrown his way.

the camera pans back to reo, who’s looking red in the face, awfully pathetic. “fuck off. don’t post that. y/n’s gonna see it and make fun of me when we’re back again.”

nagi posts it anyway.

chigiri hums thoughtfully, waving a hand in front of your face. “you don’t look like you moved on to me.”

you splutter, shoving his phone back onto him. you feel your heart pound in your ears and with the way chigiri smiles knowingly, you almost wonder if he can hear it, too. “shut up! why did he say that? i hate him.”

“sure you do. say what?”

“‘when we’re back together again’ like he’s so sure about it,” you try to say it like you’re angry, but your expression resembles reo from that video. it doesn’t come out as you want it.

reo looks much better now. nagi says that reo religiously followed your advice right after and has been faring better, which is a real shame since you can’t even see it for yourself. he looks less pale and much brighter, but instead of the anger you last saw him with, he’s just become a carbon copy of a wet blanket.

“aren’t you?” chigiri watches the post again, just to torment you with your sniveling ex. “getting back together again, i mean.”

“i’m leaving.”

“yeah? and go where? reo’s bed?”

“i’ll strangle you!”

[aziraphales-library]

I know y’all are super busy but I really need season 2 fics. I’m ugly crying rn

You haven't said if you want to feel better or worse, so here are some of the currently most-kudos series two fics...

I Wanna Fade Away with You by kademeow (G)

Aziraphale realizes, after entering the lift with the Metatron, that Heaven doesn’t have what he wants, or needs, at all.

How's the View by Etheostoma (T)

“May I come in?” Crowley blinked. “No,” he declared, and slammed the door in Aziraphale’s face. He slunk away away from his apartment door and snatched the half-full glass of merlot he had left atop one of his plant stands, downing the entire thing in one gulp. “May I come in?” he mimicked, scrunching up his nose and raising his voice. “No you bloody well may not,” he yelled at the door, before dropping the glass to shatter across the unforgiving concrete floor.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

My take on the S2 fix it. I honestly think that Neil will fix it in S3 but that will be a while and I am sad rn. So basically, here goes: Someone criticises Crowley in Heaven and Aziraphale has had just enough of that to be honest so he decides that maybe - maaaaaaaaybe - it would be better for everyone for him just to return to Earth and to his demon. Obviously - Season 2 spoilers - like...all of them.

tales from a bookshop by Rizandace (T)

Post-season-two. Crowley's moping, Aziraphale wants to fix things, and turns out, there's enough blame to go around. ----- “You’re being ridiculous.” Crowley very nearly falls over. Like, actually. He very nearly loses balance for no reason at all and tumbles to the sidewalk next to his car. He’s been playing Aziraphale’s voice in his head for weeks, he’s been trying very hard to drown out the sound of it, in fact, and now suddenly, abruptly— “What are you doing here,” is all he can think to say. He whirls around, and there he is. on Crowley’s right, standing there like he’d never left. Where he belongs, Crowley’s mind helpfully supplies. He wishes he could punch himself in the brain, knock the thoughts right on out of there.

May You Be Forgiven by Haydenn11 (E)

I forgive you. Satan, he was an idiot. How could he think his wasted heart would ever compare to Heaven asking Aziraphale back with open arms, as Supreme Archangel, no less? Crowley never stood a chance. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to dash across the street and into the celestial elevator with Azriaphale, principals be damned, or blessed? But, Crowley couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. He had at least that much self-respect left. He’d never belong in Heaven; he could never be happy there. And neither could Aziraphale, but his stupid, stubborn angel never could reconcile that fact. ___ After the events of episode six of GO2, Crowley must learn to live without Aziraphale and Aziraphale must navigate his new life as Supreme Archangel of Heaven.

But You, My Dear, Are An Ocean by megzseattle (T)

After Aziraphale's defection, Crowley tries to figure out how to live life for himself.

- Mod D

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 9

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

(Yes I'm procrastinating rn)

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You sit behind the glass and yawn in the deathly din of the transit office. You lazily scroll a finger over your phone. The brief rush has dissipated so now you're free to read old forums about the cult classic show you've been bingeing.

Despite your hours being cut, every shift feels too long. The time is dull as most people buy their passes online or get tickets at a kiosk in the mall. So you work is minimal and the pay even less. Not to mention, your patience.

You lean your chin in your hand and press your finger to your lashes, trying to keep the old mascara from stinging your eyes. The chirp of the sensor has you sitting up and you nearly bite your tongue as you try to greet the customer. Not him!

“Closed,” you lie and reach for the metal gate above, struggling to clasp onto the handle.

“Hours say–”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” you snarl and hop, rolling down the grate and slamming it into place.

You swear as it hits your phone, knocking it through the small slot under the glass partition, locking it out and you in. You lock the bottom, not caring about the burner. Fuck it, you only ever text Snicky.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky stops by your phone, bending to pick it up, “how many of these you lost so far?”

He wiggles the phone at you, am eighty dollar Polaroid piece of shit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, what's happened to customer service these days?” He tuts and comes closer, shoulder broad and rolling. “Look, I'm not here for me, right?” He tucks your phone in his jacket pocket, “my friend, Steve, the string bean, he likes you.”

“I don't fucking know you. Or him. And I don't wanna know you–”

“You don't? Cause I think I got to know you pretty well–”

“Fucking ass–”

“Let's not keep going through this, alright? Now, I've been pretty damn nice. Do you know how much you can learn from a phone? I know you're about thirty-seven dollars in overdraft and your Instagram keeps popping up with pictures of that dumb girl that hangs off you.”

“How, I–”

“Locked me out? You think,” he taps on the glass on the other side of the gate, “what if I made you a deal?”

“I'm not into the hard stuff,” you scoff.

“Didn't seem to mind it,” he winks, “maybe coulda gone for something lighter…”

“What do you want?” You bark.

“Alright, alright, like I said, it's not me,” he smirks, his gaze creeping up and down your figure. “My friend, he's got no luck with the girls. Told me you stood up for him. That's sweet despite… being you.”

“So you wanna be my pimp? Oh, fuck off–”

“A date. That's it.” His hand tightens in his pocket, gripping your phone. “Humour him. He's been moping about you all week.”

“Yeah right, I'm not stupid–”

“You won't see me. Really, I got plans. Saturday's are good for business, not worth the cut.”

Your nostrils flare. You want to be done with it, him, that club, and all the losers who hang out there. You bite down and cross your arms, glaring at him.

“How about… three hundred?” He offers. “Up front.”

He shifts and pulls the phone out of his pocket. He sets it before the slot in the window then reaches into his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and counts several bills.

“He'll pay for dinner. He's the old fashioned type, you know? Just wear something sexy.”

You scowl, furrowing your nose as your mouth dries. You can't believe you're even considering this. Are you that low?

Well, hes offering as much as you get in a week and the last chunk of your rent. So yes, you are.

“Saturday?” You ask crisply.

“Seven,” he slides the money and phone against the bottom of the gate, “I'll send you the time and place.”

“If I even hear your name–”

“Relax,” he backs up, “I got mine. Just take it easy on my pal.” He smirks and uns his thumb along his bottom lip, “he's a virgin.”

“You're nasty.”

“Oh I know I'm just your type but he's better for you,” he chuckles and turns, stalking to the door, “and if you don't show, I'll be back to collect and trust,” he pauses, “I always get what I'm owed.”

The door swings shut and you stare after him. Slowly you look down and unlock the gate. You push it up and reach for the phone and the bills. The skinny one can’t cause you that much trouble, can he?