#this is so angsty im sorry

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington thought a lot about what could have been over the years. He thought about Nancy, and how he could have been a better boyfriend. He thought about his parents, and how he could have done more to uphold their expectations. He thought about Robin, and how he wasted so much time not knowing her. He thought about the kids and every instance where he could have stopped their pain if he had been seconds earlier. Perhaps what Steve thought of the most though, was how he could have saved Eddie Munson.

But to Steve Harrington, it was clear he couldn't do anything really, except for regret.

[hannibalslillamb]

I'm thinking about Trans!Dean and how he definitely bound his chest on hunts, despite numerous lectures from Sam on how that isn't good. How one night, they're running through the woods from the big monster, Dean is thrown into a tree, while Sam hovers over him and John ganks the big bad. But Dean's hurt and he can't breathe so Sam and John make the decision to cut the binder so Dean can get more air.

After that, they start making the steps to get Dean his top surgery.

[demigods-posts]

whatever you do. don't think about how percy and annabeth held the sky. and both of them earned grey streaks. that likely lasted for a couple of years. so during the year before the prophecy. when percy and annabeth weren't on speaking terms. one look in the mirror was enough to remind them what could be if they had time.

[avephelis]

silly au where hunter can also see the other golden guards but all they do is annoy him

[mmmairon]

Please. I don’t want to hurt you.

Inspired by @wyvernne ’s vampluc

[lineffability]

but what if the "you don't dance" comment in s2ep6 was a direct callback to 1941 when everything was going so romantically and they were back in the bookshop and making eyes at each other and put on music and nightingale started playing and Crowley braver than ever in his life asked Aziraphale to dance, maybe even bowing down cheekily and offering an arm, and first Aziraphale takes it delightedly and gets up but then falters and gets scared and draws back and lies "I'm an angel, I don't dance" and then everything gets angsty and the sentence sticks in Crowley's mind like tar and feathers and he believes it, he believes him, angels don't dance, (angels don't consort with demons either, we can never truly be together, even if we both want it) and he takes it to heart and that's why Aziraphale asking him to dance is almost earthshattering in its overt symbolism, it's Aziraphale saying "I'm ready to dance with you now" but all Crowley can do is stand flabbergasted and say "you don't dance" because angels don't dance, you don't dance, because he remembers what Aziraphale said and what he did not say in the silence between..... they did not dance in 1941 and then in the present they dance at last but it isn't quite right is it because can't Aziraphale see the threat?? and can't Crowley stop saying such distracting things about demons and attacks?? what if the dance comes too late?what if angels finally DO dance, what if Aziraphale WANTS to dance, and Crowley too, but there's no nightingale's song anymore to dance to???? what then??????

[stiffyck]

I'll probably lose followers over this but can scar exist on his own without being something grian can constantly angst over.... can scar be an actual person instead of just someone who provides grian comfort and nothing else.....

Sorry but most of the time desert duo fans will make Scars whole character just about Grian and it's. So weird. Give Scar his own personality and his own issues and make him feel like an actual person im begging. You can give scar some angst even if you're focusing on grian.

Can we like make Scar an actual character and not just a guy who's there because Grian grian grian

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[mintypsii]

not a part 2, but here's a prequel to this sanuso comic I did last month !!! (takes place the night before ,, technically after the first three panels)

[meliake]

If I read one more fucking fic where Tim begs for his life in Titan's Tower I'm actually going to explode like?? READ IT????

Tim is a little fucking shit the entire time, fully confident in his abilities until the very end. And Jason didn't try and kill him, just gravely injured him to send a message, hence the bloody writing. Like guys- he could have killed him but purposefully didn't to prove his point.

There was no moment of regret for him because the 'pit rage' got to him, he was in full control of himself all throughout electrocuting Cyborg and Beastboy, putting Raven to sleep. LIKE GUYS PLEASE JUST READ THE ISSUE I STG

[fatuismooches]

Now I realized we're always comforting the segments since the time of their life is depressing, but we never comfort Prime himself. The one who experienced everything. Reading the Zeta fic honestly broke me, I just want to go up to Prime and hug him and pamper him and everything.

The segments are from one point in Dottore's life. One phase. They don't usually stray from the personality or actions they've had during that time. Perhaps that's why you found it easier to comfort them, as they never left that state, and you could read them better. But Prime, he is a culmination of all of them, he is them and yet he is not at the same time. He has a bit of all of them ingrained in him and yet he's not the same as them.

The more you get to know about the segments, the more you indirectly get to know about Prime as well. On the very rare occasions you get to see the segments being vulnerable, your heart aches not only for them but for Prime as well. At least the segments now have you for comfort and reassurance, but who did Dottore have back then? He had no one, only faced with the reality of your sleeping body daily. When the realization hits you, it just hurts you... really bad. Prime never shows any weakness - he's always cunning. Intimidating. Manipulative. Around you he was confident. Teasing. Bold. One could never guess how he felt all those years ago. You could have never guessed, and you know him better than anyone.

You don't even know how to bring up the topic, you imagine that even if you try he'll brush it off and change the subject. That was simply the man he was - he'd never admit to such things, at least not without a lot of nudging, (and you meant a lot.) Instead, you settle with making sure that he knows you're here now, and that you're always going to be with him. You randomly hug him throughout the day (even if he does get a bit annoyed at times.) Nuzzling your cheek on the top of his head, into the soft fluff of his hair, arms gently but firmly wrapped around him as he questions your sudden presence, shuffling through paperwork, but you remain silent as your grip tightens.

You don't even care if the position is uncomfortable, you just hold him and hope to transfer your feelings to Dottore somehow. You don't care how weak you are, if you can do something to make him less stressed you'll do it. Cooking his favorites to pampering him in the bath (the lazy way he lays on you while you wash his hair, it's almost as if he's going to crush you) to even organizing his office just the way he likes it without him knowing. You mumble sweet things into his ear while he gives you that look at the almost nauseating cheesiness, you kiss his scars and rub your hands over his calloused areas.

You don't care about anything. You just want to provide some comfort to him. It's the least you can do, after everything you've caused in the last few centuries.

[shamrockst4r]

i think if i read the novel before watching monster high i would definitely be a frankie stein stan but oh well anyway some creature fanart for your mind and soul

[miusato]

Ken, it's too early to give yourself a mid life crisis and worry too much 🙃

[kat-in-a-trashcan]

Do you think that one of the reasons Charles is so upset about not being able to grow up is because if he was able to grow up and live a life he would be able to escape his dad and the terrible people in his school and have a life of his own away from pain? Was it something he was looking forward too? Dreaming of an escape? Would he be able to have a full life to heal, live, and forget his tragedies?

[polar-equinoxx]

Mav deserves to say something like this to him

[linkedin-offficial]

blood orange