i'm just feeling the angst tonight

you’re safe as long as you don’t imagine your otp slow dancing to ‘the way you look tonight’ in their pjs in the kitchen of their new house at 3am with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders if you do imagine that then you’re ruined im sorry

“Don’t go, Cas,” Dean whispers, a soft plea in the dark, his lips pressed against Cas’s.  “Please.  Just stay.  I just got you back.”  I just learned to love you, he wants to say.  Dean clings to him tighter, pulls his warmth closer.  His fingers stake real estate in Cas’s hips, pinning the angel against him.  He changes his mind, and slips his hand up Cas’s back, letting himself drink in the hills and valleys of Cas’s muscles.  

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas whispers, cutting himself off with a kiss.  Dean hates that it’s Crowley who’s pulling Cas away from him.  He hates everything about the situation.  He has to fight the bitterness rising in his throat at the thought of Cas and Crowley working together again.  “I have to.  I have a lead.”  Cas buries his fingers in Dean’s hair, and Dean wants to lose himself that feeling again and again.  The heat of Cas’s skin against him where they lay - chest-to-chest beneath Dean’s covers; the slide of Cas’s lips on his… it’s incendiary, and Dean doesn’t want to douse the flame.  Watching Cas nearly die in front of him; hearing those words that have been on the tip of his tongue for years… all at once it was too much and not enough, and he’s terrified of letting go of it.  “We have to find Kelly before it’s too late.”  Dean exhales slowly, dragging Cas in for another long, lingering kiss.

“I know,” Dean whispers, pulling his hands up to Cas’s face.  “But every time you leave, I’m scared something’s gonna happen.  To you.  To all of it.  I’m scared I’m never gonna see you again.  Especially now, after–”

“I’ll come back to you, Dean,” Cas says, rocking back enough to look at Dean, their eyes meeting in dark.  His voice is soft and reassuring, and it makes Dean’s heart ache.  “I always do.”

Dean sits on the edge of his bed, still in his boxers, and watches Cas dress in silence; watching the soft amber light of the lamp dancing across him as he moves.  Always the adios, he thinks.  He knows, in the grand scheme of things, this is necessary.  What Cas is doing is important.  But for once, he wants to be selfish.  He wants to say fuck it all and disappear.  

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Dean.”  Cas’s voice pulls him back.  Cas’s hand is on his cheek, and he leans into it, chasing the warmth.  “In the meantime… Keep busy.  Do what you do best.”  Cas smiles, and Dean inhales.  It’s a staggering - and rare - sight.  “Save people.  Hunt things.  The Winchester family business.”  

Dean huffs out a laugh and stands, surging forward to wrap Cas in his arms.  He pushes Cas back against the door and kisses him hard, burying his fingers in his hair.  “Be careful, please,” he whispers desperately.  “I love you, Cas. Please be careful.”  His voice breaks, and he hides his face in Cas’s shoulder.  It kills him, being vulnerable.  But if there’s one person in all of creation with whom he can be, it’s Cas.  

“Always,” Cas murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple.  And then he’s gone, and Dean’s chest aches at the loss.  He crawls back under his covers and dreams of Cas until Sam wakes him with a case.  

anonymous asked:

I'M SRRY FOR ALL THE ANGST BUT WHAT abt like a year later bakugou sees his ex, who is still single after breaking up w bakugou, (from the last post) what would happen? SORRY im super emo tonight

SIS I LITERALLY JUST FINISHED CRYING SO IM WITH YOU

part one

bakugou katsuki

It had been a year since you left Bakugou and you had been a mess. You would see Bakugou do his hero thing on the tv and you would feel yourself begin to cry. Your friends had pushed you towards going out for the first time in over a year and you found yourself at a bar, wearing a figure hugging outfit, leaning against the bar with a glass in your hand. Lots of people came up to you and as you began to slip into intoxication, you told more and more people to fuck off and leave you alone. When you felt buzzed enough but not drunk, you waved to your friends and stepped out of the bar. It was a chilly night in tokyo since winter was on it’s way. The grass had a light frost on them and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you began your walk back to your apartment. The city was illuminated and you just felt yourself feel worse and worse with each step. 

“You look cold.” You heard being said from behind you and you stopped at that familiar voice. You turned around and saw your ex boyfriend standing there lighting a cigarette. You let out a breath, watching the condensed air leave your mouth, choosing not to look at his face.

“I’m not that cold.” You say quietly. He let out a small laugh before exhaling the smoke.

“You’re clinging to yourself for dear life.” He says, shoving his free hand in his pocket. You stared at him for a moment before sighing.

“How is your hero work going?” You ask, looking around for any exit from this conversation. His eyes were trained on your face before he shrugged nonchalantly. 

“It’s going well, how’s your work going?”

“I quit that job,” You said slowly before looking at his face for the first time since he arrived. “I ah- I’m a student aid now, i’m about to be a professor.” He looks at you for a moment, his face holding an unreadable expression. 

“I’m glad you’re doing what you want,” His voice is gruff and low, stomping on the cigarette he was smoking. Your hands are numb and you know you’re shaking. “Do you want to go in somewhere so you can warm up or I can just leave…” He left it open ended, almost coaxing you into letting him stay. And if you weren’t so buzzed, you would’ve left and went home but you missed him and the alcohol was giving you confidence. You followed him inside his car and you felt familiar. He was still driving the same car he had when he was with you. You noticed your sunglasses were still hanging on the rearview mirror and you wanted to smile but you were desperate for warmth. So as the car warmed up, you held your hands infront of the vents and from your peripheral vision you saw him looking at you with a very small, warm smile. 

“Bakugou-” You were stopped by him clearing his throat.

“No let me,” He began, staring at your quivering face. “I was angry that you left me, a year ago,” You puckered your lips in annoyance because you knew you were right to leave him. “But, You were right. I was not there for you but you did not hold me back. You never held me back. You were my motivation and even till now, you’re my motivation to be a hero. I always hoped that you would see me doing my hero work and be proud of me,” He looked down, rubbing his nose before looking back at your face. “I haven’t been with anyone since you left me. I haven’t let anyone touch me since you left. I keep wishing you would come back but every time I roll over in my bed, I see that you aren’t there and I can’t breathe because I miss you so much. And when the bed is just empty, I just want to go back to sleep so I can dream of you. Nothing feels the same anymore and I-uh, I miss you so much.” His eyes stared into yours, tears pooling at his water line and before you knew it, you had tears going down your cheeks.

“I missed you too, I missed you so much Bakugou but I can’t come back until I know things will change.” You saw his hand reach forward and hold yours, warming it sightly.

“It will be different, I promise. I fucking promise.” 

What is a Family?

Trigger warning: physical & emotional abuse (please do not read if you are triggered by abuse as it gets quite descriptive)

Note: sorry i haven’t published anything in a while…i haven’t been in the right mindset for the past two weeks or so and i hope this little drabbley/one shot explains things. it’s 4:30am and I literally just wrote this straight through. i can’t make any promises, but hopefully i’ll be starting up with my writing again because after writing this, i feel like a huge weight has been lifted :)

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5

“Is this…” Dirk whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Todd’s face and his hands. “Is this helping?”

Todd doesn’t turn to face him- can’t turn to face him. He stares instead at his own hands, frostbitten fingers carefully encased by Dirk’s as he attempts to warm them. Cold enough to feel distant like a memory. But not numb. Not completely. Just enough feeling left in them to register Dirk’s well-meaning ministrations scraping his raw, freezer-burned skin like sandpaper.

It isn’t helping. It isn’t helping at all.

“Yeah, Dirk,” he chokes out through chattering teeth. “Thanks…”

But it’s all in his head. It’s all in his head…

(drawing variations courtesy of my camera’s cool filters)

Breathe

I had a rough night last night, and I felt like I needed some scenario, some comfort to drown the nasty feelings out.

Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts

Thank you for reading. 😊

Jumin x MC

Angst

Word Count: 1103


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anonymous asked:

hannigram 8 <3

8. things you said when you were crying (prompt meme)

“Mmm, that’s nice. You should really charge by the hour for this.”

Will sat with his feet in Hannibal’s lap, on the receiving end of an extraordinarily skilled foot massage. They were sat on the porch swing of their mountain cabin, enjoying the last long days of summer, their sweating glasses of lemonade forgotten on the table next to them. The two dogs lay on the ground next to them on their backs, legs splayed and tongues lolling in the heat.

“What makes you think I’m not keeping a running tab for things like this?”

“Hah, if that’s the case, I’ve run up quite the bill. When, may I ask, are you coming to collect, Doctor?”

“Oh, you’ll know when it’s time. I’m not one to forgive debts. Especially when you can offer such wonderful gifts in return.”

Hannibal moved his hand up to Will’s calf at this, kneading it firmly with his hand. He looked over at Will, and the wicked glint in his eye was almost enough to have Will half-hard in his shorts.

Will shifted a little so that he could reach Hannibal’s mouth, giving him a soft kiss in thanks. Hannibal let out a low moan at this, reaching his free hand up to hold Will’s cheek and deepening the kiss. They made out lazily for long minutes, Hannibal’s tongue exploring Will’s mouth thoroughly and his hand still massaging Will’s calf and sending sparks up into his groin.

Just as Hannibal began to move his hand up towards Will’s inner thigh, they were jolted from their reverie by a sharp bark. Will, always attuned to his pack, pulled back reluctantly from Hannibal’s plush mouth to see what had Encephalitis so worked up. The dachshund was already up and running, heading towards the tree line at far edge of their property and barking all the way. Bubbles, their corgi, had perked up, but wasn’t quite ready to give up her spot on the grass unless she was sure something good was going on.

“Ceph! Ceph, what is it?”

Will laughed at the petulant look on Hannibal’s face before getting up to see what had the dog so agitated.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you. Keep my seat warm.”

He crossed the small field to find Ceph sniffing and whining at a huge brindled Mastiff, lying on the ground and breathing heavily.

“Oh god, oh god.” Will kneeled down and reached his hand out so the dog could smell it, gaining its trust before running his hand gently over its side to check for injuries. The dog was quite obviously in a lot of pain, but Will couldn’t determine its origin.

“Hannibal!” His voice trembled and broke a little on the last syllable, panic rising in him as the dog continued to whine softly.

“Will? Will, what is it?”

“Hannibal, come here, I need your help.”

Suddenly Hannibal was there, crouching down next to Will and putting his hand firmly on Will’s shoulder, grounding him.

“Who do we have here?”

“He’s hurt. We have to help him, Hannibal, he’s hurt bad. I can’t find it, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s alright, we’ll figure it out. We’ll help him the best we can. Let me see.”

Hannibal repeated Will’s motion of allowing the dog to smell him, then palpated firmly on the dog’s abdomen to check for internal injuries.

“He’s malnourished, but there’s nothing seriously wrong that I can feel. Let’s see if we can get him to stand. Help me Will, he’ll be quite heavy.”

As Hannibal reached out to get a grip on the dog’s thigh, it let out a loud yelp and began whining more intensely.

“Ah, we’ve found it. He seems to have fractured his leg. Not to worry, though it won’t be a quick heal, he’ll be fine once we stabilize it.”

Will was still shaking a little with his earlier adrenaline rush, but nodded firmly and pet the dog’s head reassuringly.

“Can we give him anything for the pain?”

“We’ll need to sedate him, and yes, I have some morphine in the first aid kit that we can dose appropriately for his weight. We’ll get him comfortable. Can you stay here with him while I go inside and get my supplies?”

Will nodded again, and Hannibal got up to return to the house. When he came back. Will was sitting with the dog’s massive head in his lap, murmuring comforting words. Hannibal wondered if Will knew he was crying, light tracks of tears running unbidden down his face. In that moment, he looked at Will and saw the absolute best of his heart, and he fell deeper into love with him than he ever thought possible. This Will was the shining counterpart to the deadly and bloody Will who had ensnared him all those years ago, and he was equally beautiful for it.

“You’ve got him, he’s going to be alright. I’m going to give him an injection that will take away his pain and put him to sleep for several hours. I can set his leg while he’s under, but we’ll need to keep him on light sedatives for the next few weeks to keep him from moving around too much while it heals.”

Hannibal proceeded to prepare the syringe and put the dog under, his giant tongue lolling out of his mouth as he lost consciousness. Once the dog was asleep and Hannibal was sure he could feel no pain, he took the dog’s leg in his hands, feeling to make sure the break was clean.

“It’s a simple fracture, no other damage to the area. He’ll be just fine.”

He quickly set the bone into place and wrapped it with a splint, giving Will’s hand a squeeze after. Will gripped his hand hard, his breathing coming more evenly now.

“Come on, let’s get him into the house. We’ll pull one of the extra duvets for him to lay on until we can get a dog bed big enough.”

It was quite a task to get him home, as the dog weighed at least a hundred pounds, but the two of them managed it, laying him out on the living room floor next to the fan. Ceph and Bubbles followed them in, sniffing excitedly at the new addition.

Will busied himself in the kitchen while the dog slept, making a big batch of food for him. He made sure to add extra eggs and a bit of olive oil to get his coat back into good shape, and stored the extra in the fridge. It looked like their food budget would be going up quite a bit, but Hannibal found that he didn’t mind that quite as much as he thought he would have.

Later that evening, after the dog had come out from under the anesthesia and enthusiastically eaten his dinner, Hannibal checked on his vitals before letting him doze again. Afterwards, they sat on the sofa with their two smaller dogs, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap and Hannibal gently stroking Will’s hair.

“You did a good thing today, Will. Your capacity for caring is something you should be proud of.”

“Hannibal, I didn’t do a thing! I sat and panicked while you handled all of the hard parts. I was a crying mess.”

“You found him and you comforted him, and yes, you cried over him. All of these are brave things, Will. I’m proud to call you my partner at times like this.”

“Even when I bring a hundred-pound dog into our small house? We’re not going to have a moment of peace once he’s out from his sedation, you know that.”

“Hmm, I expect not. But if caring for Herakles will make you happy, then I can think of much worse disturbances.”

“…you’ve already named him? I really am rubbing off on you, huh?”

“He’s a strong one, Will. The name is only fitting.”

“Hah, it is at that. And now I suppose my debt column has only increased. How would you like to collect tonight, Doctor?”

“I was going to offer my services pro-bono today, but if you’re offering, I’ve got a few ideas…”

Will laughed brightly, looking up into Hannibal’s warm smile. “By all means, lead the way. I’m suddenly feeling very ready for bed.”

it’s 4 am at 221b and sherlock is working on his best man speech, the papers are all spread out on the floor among pencils and scissors. he’s writing and writing and eventually he start to just let it flow out; his feelings and love and innermost scorching emotions, everything he has ever wanted to tell john 

it’s 5 am at 221b and sherlock reads through the love letter he has written, blinks away that stinging sensation in his chest and throws it all in the open fire

Imagine an au where Achilles was with Patroclus as he died

He’d be so confused by what’s happening because obviously Patroclus isn’t/dying/, he’s not the one who’s supposed to die, that’s Achilles. It had been all but promised that he would die first with Patroclus by his side to the very end. So obviously Patroclus wasn’t dying because the earth simply could not exist with Patroclus dead, it was designed to exist exactly as it did so that Patroclus could wake every morning and smile and help people and whisper words of love into Achilles’ ear. It simply couldn’t continue without Patroclus to do those vital things. So he keeps stroking Patroclus’ hair and babbling that everything will be alright, they’ll stitch him up and everything will be fine. But then he notices that the medics are focusing on men that aren’t as gravely wounded and they aren’t going to come back and waste time trying to save Patroclus. And Patroclus has a hand on his cheek and he’s looking at him like he’s trying to say goodbye and he just breaks because it can’t be happening, he can’t be leaving him, his Patroclus can’t just be giving up and letting himself be taken, because his Patroclus knows he can’t survive a day without him, much less a lifetime. But as he keeps sobbing out pleas for him to stay he slips away before Achilles eyes, and he can feel a terrible tearing in his chest as Patroclus’ hand falls to his side and he realizes he’s gone and he never said goodbye

[ Are you, are you - Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free?
 ]

Sorry - I’m feeling the angst tonight ~  (◕u◕)
Joined a bit late to the #DrunkenKissesChallenge held by @hannibalcreative

- ̗̀  kwon juno junhyuk — 13/10/1993 ~ 10/11/2017    ̖́-

hide and seek you h i d e, playing shadows way too late tonight. rainy weather in my eyes. would y o u rather me be c o l o r b l i n d? i wanna lie to your parents so bad it hurts to say you’re u n a c c o u n t e d for with you it isn’t c r a z y to fear t h e worst! ’cause i’m too scared to tell your momma i don’t know w h e r e you’ve gone. and i k n o w you tear but i’m praying that you’re holding on. and with god as my w i t n e s s, if you can hear this song… then you and i will find s o m e w h e r e beautiful to r e s t your s o u l.

                                      REST IN PEACE, BLUE BOY.

is it just me or does anyone else think that in “The World Was Wide Enough,” at the end of Hamilton’s monologue, when he says “Raise a glass to freedom” the freedom he’s raising a glass to is death? 

Like I know it’s a callback to “The Story of Tonight,” but I also just feel like it has a double meaning, you know?? 

Sam breaks his phone in half. He’s sick of the apologies that tumble past his lips like second nature, how he wholeheartedly feels sorry for everything, how his attempts at redemption or forgiveness are sometimes drowned out by classic rock, because dead singers are more important than him. He’s sick of never hearing a single apology back.

Sam doesn’t pack his bags. He’s tired of how the place his brother insists is home was tainted with death and betrayal before it ever had a chance to become a home. He can’t recall anyone ever dying in the impala.

Sam takes a motorcycle from the garage. One seat. One helmet. He dumps those at a Subway a few miles from the airport before hailing a taxi, because even enough for himself feels like too much.

He flies, because Dean hates flying.

Sam doesn’t tell a soul where he’s going, not even Castiel. He uses his middle name as an alias, something they’ve never done before, and looks in the phone book for a last name that’s just uncommon enough to not be obvious, but just common enough to be easily overlooked.

He just needs to get away. Just needs to breathe. If Dean wants to find him, he’ll hunt him down, and Sam will know he’s been found when he feels a fist connect with his face. But maybe Dean won’t look, won’t think he’s just run off, will think he’s been killed or something like that. The idea brings more relief than it should.

Maybe – hopefully – Dean won’t think Sam’s worth the effort. Because Sam can’t do this anymore.

so remember when thomas met up with gally in the death cure and instead of holding a grudge against thomas for beating him almost to death, he just kind of shrugged it off?

he did that because even though WICKED had taken control of his body, he still blamed himself for chuck’s death. he believed that if he had fought harder, he could have stopped himself.

he thought he deserved to get beat by thomas despite the situation being out of his control. 

so if you ever re-read the maze runner, just remember that gally is dealing with the trauma of having been forced to kill a kid as thomas beats him. he doesn’t even attempt to fight back.

and then he’s abandoned by the gladers who he had only wanted to protect and is left with the people who made his life hell. the people who had literally made him do every single thing that made everyone hate him.

he never had a chance. as a greenie, he was forced to run into the maze and get stung. everyone mocked him after that, especially when he didn’t want to be a runner because he was scared. and the memories he got back from the changing were supposed to make him suspicious of thomas. but no one ever took him seriously because from the moment WICKED forced him to run out into the maze, he was labeled a nutcase. 

this boy’s life was planned out to be the literal worse from the very beginning and he had no one there for him. he went through it all alone but instead of giving up, he continued to try to do his best and to protect people and can we just applaud gally for being wonderful despite all his angst and sarcasm???

kaleidoscopic stars

inspired by all the really good multiverse fics in the pacific rim fandom. 

SUMMARY: Mikasa is nine years old when she learns several things.  One: poison and words are fickle; a knife will always kill a man.  Two: there are worlds inside and around her, and sometimes if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel its steady thrum of power like a soft whisper at the back of her heart.  Three: if you become steel, forged and sharpened and refolded over and over again until the edges of you point outwards, you will not bleed.

ao3 | ffn

When Mikasa is young and her world seems like an infinitely vast place, her mother cuts a symbol into the palm of her right hand and wraps a clean rag around it, pressing a dry kiss to the blooming spot of red that appears on the cloth. 

“You must let it scab over,” her mother says, taking her daughter’s face into her hands.  “Don’t pick at it.  When it heals over and you have only a scar left, I will tell you everything.”

However, Mikasa is only a child, and everything holds no more meaning than if her mother promised to tell her nothing.  Still, she nods, clenching her jaw to prevent the stubborn tears from falling as she cradles her hand to her chest. 

“Do you promise me this?”  Her mother has kind eyes and a kind smile, but the set of her jaw and sharpness of her brows suggest some inner steel that Mikasa herself has yet to grow into. 

“I promise.” 

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it’s so important to remember that it’s not Jack’s fault. He probably feels guilty for putting Bitty in this situation. But it’s literally not his fault. He’s just doing his best being in the public eye in a very homophobic profession. It’s the the world’s fault for being messed up, not his. He’s doing his best