i don't know how to angst

it’s fine

[ a louisentine oneshot ]

Summary: During a game of war, Louis reveals the reason he was sent to Ericson.

Warnings: The reason isn’t a good one…

Just a little story inspired by this ask I saw for @louisentine-is-good-shit  

“Okay, I gotta know.”


“What’s your deal with cantaloupe?”

“You mean, what’s my deal with the most despicable thing grown on this earth?”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“When was the last time you had one? I guarantee that if you had one right now, you’d take a bite and say, ‘wow, this is worse than eating walker guts!’”

“Oh, geez.” Clem rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Perfectly dramatic enough!” Louis argued.

Clem shook her head, a small grin tugging at her lips. She had to admit it: she was having fun. When Louis suggested a card game to the group, like he usually does, it seemed that no one was interested. After everything that went down with Lily and the raiders and the big rescue, they were still in recovery mode. 

Most went along with their new nightly routines or back to their rooms, leaving Louis with his stack of cards and a discouraged frown. 

That was when she realized that it had been weeks since they had actually spent any time together. Sure, they went hunting and they ate together, and he was practically spending every night in her and AJ’s room, but as far as alone time goes that didn’t have to do with planning or their everyday survival… 

Hell, that had to be when they shared their first kiss at the piano. 

So, Clementine was determined. She sent AJ off with Tenn to finish coloring before it was their turn for watch duty, and then she approached Louis with a smile. She suggested they go play a private game, one on one. 

Needless to say, he was thrilled.

He practically pulled her arm out of its socket while dragging her into his room. 

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I’m fine, alright, it’s just been rough. “

Originally a vent sketch featuring my favorite out of the Sanders Sides personas that became something more.

Since Part 2 came out while I was working on this one, may draw another for it soon. Either way, hope you enjoy!

Please do not repost or edit this.
Or use without permission.


How could I ask for redemption if I’m still a murderer, if I’m still a sinner…

what have I done


Inspired by this post by @anxious-ball-of-sunshine

No no no no no…

The anxious Side struggled to breathe as his eyes skipped across the mirror, taking in the left half of his face. The scales. The bulging eye. The scar of a mouth.That disgusting yellow.

No no no, change it back…

He watched the reflection of his shaking hand as it rose to his cheekbone. He didn’t want to touch it. He didn’t want to see himself touch it. Just seeing or feeling was bad enough, but both would just confirm that…that he…

Change me back…

It would force him to believe it. And he didn’t want to believe it. 

A small flare of stubborn indignation cut through the horror, just long enough for Virgil to regain some of his bearings. Of course he would put him in that position. Making him crave denial. How dare he. 

Virgil inched his hand forward before he could stop himself, teasing his fingers across the scales under his engorged eye. 

Yep. This was real.

A shudder wracked his lungs. 

Clenching his teeth, he tore his now-mismatched gaze from his face to look the rest of himself over. He even had the Snake’s clothes, down to the stupid gloves. Virgil made an effort to focus on his new wardrobe in favor of his new scaly profile; it was easier to ridicule.

Didn’t mean he liked it any better. The gloves were the first to go, followed by the hat, flung to the floor with extreme prejudice. He tried to tug the cape off next, but the clasp seemed to have a mind of its own. Heck, maybe it did, knowing who’s fault this was. 

C’mon,” the anxious Side growled, growing wary at the beginnings of an echo in his own voice. He had to calm down or this would start affecting Thomas. He pulled at the cape more insistently. He couldn’t change himself back (oh God oh God) but if he could just get his regular clothes back he might feel better. He could hide in his hoodie until he figured out how to solve the real problem. 

Except the damn cape refused to come off. 

Get off!” Virgil snapped, pulling at the garment so furiously that he almost spun himself completely around. 

So occupied was he that he barely noticed the muffled clang. Harder to ignore was how the flooring underneath his feet suddenly changed. 

Oh no




Hands flying to his face in alarm, Virgil tried to sink back into the safety of his room. But he couldn’t. The way was barred. Someone moved in his peripheral vision, and he stumbled backward in an effort to maintain distance, tripping over his own feet and colliding with the wall of the stairway. 

STAY BACK!” The words launched themselves out of his lungs as he threw one hand out in front of him, turning his face away to better conceal it behind the other arm. Panting heavily, he struggled to regain his balance. “LET ME GO! DON”T LOOK AT ME!

Stop talking stop talking he talks his mind insisted, running on overdrive. He couldn’t see the others and he could barely hear anything over his own gasping and heaving breaths. But he hadn’t actually said anything that could be misconstrued, had he? There were only so many ways to interpret ‘don’t look at me,’ he couldn’t have done himself in just by saying that? But what if their guard was already up an it was too late? He was still wearing the damn opera clothes, even if they couldn’t see his face–except the hat and the gloves and he could feel the scales a lot better without the gloves on oh God make them go away let him go back let him change back no no nonono–


Not “where is Virgil.” Not “what have you done with Virgil.” Just his name.

Shaking, the Side peered around his arm. Logan was already halfway up the stairs, taking up almost his entire field of vision. Behind the logical Side, he could barely make out the other two, gathered around someone sitting on the couch. Thomas. Thomas was breathing. Breathing for him. 

“We know it’s you, Virgil,” Logan spoke in measured tone. 


“We called you, not Deceit,” the teacher explained. “He announces himself rather differently, no matter who he looks like.  It stands to reason that the aspect we summoned would be the one that showed up, no matter the physical appearance.”

Slowly, Virgil turned his head to fully face the logical Side. He didn’t put his arm down yet. He’d face this if he had to, but not without a shield. Skittishly, he searched the other’s gaze. Logan believed what he was saying. That was a good sign.

Not enough. “…Patton?

Footsteps, then…

“I’m here, kiddo.” The moral Side shouldered his way past Logan, taking Virgil’s still-outstretched hand in both his own. “Dad’s here, we’re all here. We know you’re not really him.”

The anxious Side lowered his shield, painfully slowly, meeting Patton’s eyes. They were warm with sincerity.

Too much. Virgil had only pushed himself up from the wall before he collapsed against the other Side, burying his face in Patton’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to feel it himself anymore. He didn’t understand what Patton said next, as he adjusted to a more comfortable hold, but it sounded nice and soothing. Catching his breath, he tried to hush up and synch his breathing with Thomas’s. 

“Sounds like we gave you quite the scare,” he heard the Prince’s voice carry itself over from the general vicinity of the sofa. “If it was going to startle you that much, why didn’t you just change back when you felt the summons? Why were you even shifting into his shape anyway?”

“I can’t,” the anxious Side huffed into Patton’s shoulder. “He changed me himself. If I didn’t do the change I can’t change myself back.”

Thomas paused in his breathing. Patton’s arms constricted the slightest bit tighter. Neither Roman nor Logan said anything. Thomas resumed breathing. 

“W-well, when you’re all settled, one of us can help you with…that,” said the creative Side. He sounded a bit subdued. 

Virgil wasn’t calm enough yet to wonder why. 

He exhaled slowly, letting himself indulge in a little self-congratulation as he finally, completely synched his breaths with those of his host. Almost there. Just a little longer. Then they’d take care of this. He’d be back to normal in no time. 

What’s with the rise of musicals lately, like Hamilton was the new hit thing and that somehow lead to Heathers bubbling up from the depths. Then Dear Evan Hansen took off and that’s somehow awoken the spirit of Be More​ Chill??? Like I’m NOT complaining cause you all know I’m a slut for some angsty teen highschool song and dance numbers but really I don’t understand.

Random starters: Fainting/unconscious edition
  • "Wake up... please wake up..."
  • "Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit faint..."
  • "N-no no! Stay with me now!"
  • "Keep breathing, you'll be fine."
  • "Oh! You're awake! You've been out for so long-!"
  • "I found you unconscious back there. What happened?"
  • "Hey, are you alright over there?!"
  • "We found you in a horrid state.. but we patched you up as best we could!"
  • "Don't try to move. Just get some rest, okay?"
  • "Oh, I guess you weren't dead after all."
  • "Hey! This one finally woke up! Get me a doctor!"
  • "Shh... take it easy, there's no rush. You were passed out for a long time, you see."
  • "Ow.. my aching-"
  • "Ugh... where...?"
  • "Help me.. someone..."
  • "I can't hold on... fading away.."
  • "What happened? Where is this-!"
  • "Gah! S-stay away from m-me! I don't know who you are!"
  • "Did.. did you save me back there? Thanks.. I guess."
  • "I was passed out for that long?!"
  • "Help me up.. please help me up..."
  • "What happened to me anyways? I feel so lightheaded..."
  • "Am I in a hospital? I wasn't here before.."
  • "Where is everyone? How long was I gone?!"

miss-rosie  asked:

Since watching IW I've had severe feels from the loss of my baby Peter and the whole Tony/Peter dad relationship that was taken from them. In all the Peter coming back fanfics I've read peter is usually very emotional and Tony is more calm and reassuring. I was wondering if you could do a small piece where Peter comes back and both Peter and Tony fall apart.Like Peter being all terrified and Tony having a breakdown and holding him super tight and them just not letting go of each other. Thankkss

Big mood, @miss-rosie. Here’s an angst-filled drabble with a lot of crying.

Tony’s shoving through crowds of people, searching each face with wide, frantic eyes. Everyone who’s been trapped in the soul stone has come back once the soul stone was destroyed, masses of bodies appearing all at once, all confused, scared, leading to a scene of utter chaos. 

Tony’s elbowing through clusters of people, shaking as his lungs quake under a pressing force of adrenaline, his chest heaving as he gulps in gasps of air. 


At least eight people semi-close to him look over, and Tony shakes his head at them, a little too aggressively, as he presses forward, sometimes maneuvering around crowds, other times plowing through the center of them. 

“Peter Parker!” He shouts, over and over, as loud as he can push his tired voice. “Come on, kid! Where are you?” He’s growing desperate, and more and more people keep reappearing, blocking his way and pushing him back. He grits his teeth, anger bubbling against the panic coating his chest, and he pushes forward once more. 

“Peter Par–” 

Tony stumbles into a clearing, a small space unoccupied by everyone except for one, sole person, and his eyes burn hot as his pupils grow wide while his breath catches against a lump in his throat. 

Peter’s there, patting himself down as if to make sure he’s really there. He’s turning on his heel as he rubs at his shoulder, stopping when his eyes meet Tony’s. 

“H-hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter calls out with a weak wave of the hand, voice shaking as hard as his limbs that tremble against the rapid thump of his heart. He plasters a smile across his lips, but the familiar sting in his eyes has tears streaming down his cheeks, and Tony charges toward him, a similar look painted across his face as he wraps two, strong arms around Peter, pulling him as close to his chest as he can manage. 

Peter’s legs give out from underneath him, and both drop to their knees, Tony unwilling to let Peter go, even for a second. Peter’s fingers dig into Tony’s back as built up sobs slip through pressed lips, and Tony only hugs him harder, sniffling loudly as he rubs one hand along Peter’s back. 

“Sh-shit, Mr. Stark. That– I– I’m scared.” 

Peter’s shaking hard against Tony, and Tony can only squeeze him as tight as he can to ensure he doesn’t disintegrate once more. “You’re okay, kid.” He starts, voice breaking against his own tears. “It’s okay.” 

Despite the reassurances, Tony can’t get his tone to match the words coming from his mouth because it’s not okay– living through three weeks wondering if Peter’s dead has colored a dark cloud over his mind, his heart– one that’s going to take time to work past. 

But, he’s got Peter now, and the kid seems to be okay physically at least. He breaks the hug but keeps both hands to Peter’s trembling shoulders. 

“Peter, hey, listen. We’re okay, got it? We’re okay.” Even as he says it, tears continue to spill from his eyes, and he still can’t suck in a solid breath, but Peter nods, and Tony pulls him back to his chest, holding on for as long as he has to… for both of them. 

Lance with Intrusive Thoughts???
  • <p> <b><p></b> <b>Intrusive Thoughts:</b> "Wow Allura is verrrry near the edge ha h a you could literally just take a single step and push her off into the never ending dark abyss of space"<p/><b>Lance:</b> "Yeah how about we just doNT do that, Francis"<p/><b></b> -<p/><b>Intrusive thoughts:</b> " You can take that knife and-"<p/><b>Lance:</b> "-and cut myself uhuh sure. Anymore bright ideas Jeffrey because IM A LITTLE BUSY HERE"<p/><b></b> -<p/><b>Intrusive Thoughts:</b> "What if when everyone slept you gave them a scar to match Shiro`s."<p/><b>Lance:</b> "What if you let me get some fucking rest."<p/><b></b> -<p/><b>((BONUS:</b> <p/><b></b> He gets them during mind melding bonding sessions))<p/><b></b> -<p/><b>Intrusive Thoughts:</b> "Life is meaningless you should just fly the ship into the sun and kill everybody on it."<p/><b>Lance:</b> "Or you stop sounding as emo as Keith you fucking nut"<p/><b>Hunk:</b>"what"<p/><b>Keith:</b> "I don't know whether to be worried or offended"<p/><b>Pidge:</b> "how about both"<p/><b>Shiro, wiping away a tear:</b> "Relatable"<p/></p><p/></p>

Fools who run their mouths off wind up d e a d.

SAUDADE – Oct 25th

➳  a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. 

Originally posted by sweet-cider

genre: angst/fluff - letter format
word count: 1.5k
warning: mental illness
next letter:
nov 11th

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“Can’t you stay for a while?” Dean murmurs against Cas’ bare chest. He sounds clingy, he doesn’t care in the slightlest, he wants Cas to stay with him, maybe they can stay in bed for a couple hours go somewhere nice for breakfast. “It’s still early.” Cas’ chest moves with a deep sigh.

“I would love to, but I have to go.” Dean nods, he is still sleepy, but he wanted to see Cas before he left.“ But I can stay for a couple hours, go back to sleep love.” Dean gets closer, enjoying Cas’ warm and even if he wants to stay awake and talk with Cas he quickly falls sleep.

He wakes up alone, Cas’ side of the bed now cold and empty, he feels the same inside his chest.

He rubs his eyes, getting ready to get out of bed. But before getting up his hand moves over Cas’ pillow. He knows what he is looking for because Cas always does the same before leaving.

“It’s easier this way.” He told Dean once, and Dean agrees, because saying goodbye isn’t easy and he would probably end up convincing Cas to stay with him, making leaving even harder for both of them.

He smiles a little bit when his fingers find the paper, Cas always leaves a note, Dean keeps all of them in a box in his closet. They don’t really talk about them, they don’t talk about goodbyes when they can finally be together but Dean is sure Cas knows he has been keeping them and Dean has always a stack of paper on his desk prepared for Cas.

The notes usually say the same, that Cas loves him and he will miss him, that he will be back as soon as possible, sometimes he tells Dean to think about something nice to do together when he comes back home.

Cas always kisses his forehead before leaving too, when he thinks Dean is still asleep but Dean has felt it and Dean knows it isn’t a dream.

He unfolds the paper carefully, Cas’ familiar handwriting greeting him.

Dear Dean,

I hope you know I would love to stay, I would love to spend the day with you in my arms, I don’t want to leave, but I know that even if we are apart our hearts beat at the same time.

I will be back soon, be careful.

I love you, Castiel.’

He folds it again, and cluthes it again his chest before finally leaving their bed and putting the new note in the box with the others one.

“I love you too, Cas.” He mutters staring at the box. His hand settling over his heart, thinking about Cas’ own heartbeat.“Come back soon.”

anonymous asked:

Oh, Grillby... This isn't some failure on your part. Even the best soldiers eventually have to step down. It's never easy to let that go, especially if it was a large part of your life for a while. But it sounds like you more than paid your dues. I know it doesn't feel ok. I know you're probably grieving that part of your life and your afraid of what might've happened. Please listen to Gaster and Sans... to the people who care about you... Please don't blame yourself.

* It’s only mine…

when they lose Will again, when he really, truly loses Will, he doesn’t know what to do. there’s no more monster for him to go after, no upside down to figure out, no one left for him to save. after everything, this is how it all ends.

later, El tells him about Kali–and maybe it’s a bad idea, maybe this isn’t healthy, but fuck healthy, after all the bullshit they’ve had to deal with doesn’t he at least deserve to have this?

so Mike gets on a bus to Chicago, to Kali, and asks if he could see Will just one more time.

Together’ by nanuk_dain. See their work and their notes on this manip here. It’s sappy and…Tony needs his Steve sometimes on the battlefield, and Steve needs to feel the breath on his face and…phew, this manip is so good.

TITLE — long distance.
WARNINGS — mature content and some swearing.
WORD COUNT — 2,901 words.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — i can’t even believe my last fic got over 300 notes, that’s insane, thank you so much. uh, this was supposed to be short and smutty but the angst in me came out to wreak havoc. it also turned out much longer than i intended (story of my life). and that fluff bit at the end? i don’t know her. anyway, hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading !

You’re woken up at 2:09 AM by a constant and nagging vibration, the glare of your phone guiding you as you blindly reach for the device. Through heavy-lidded eyes you study the name displayed on the screen and the sappy emojis that follow.

It’s your boyfriend.

“Hey,” you say, voice dripping with dread and worry, and fatigue. It’s silent on the other end safe for some rustling and just as you’re about to call after him, there’s a muted groan.

“B-bae?” He sighs into the transmitter—a sigh of relief. “Fuck,” he sobs. “I miss y-you. I… fuck.” Another sob. “Baby?”

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