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softguarnere · 2 years

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A World Without Color Is A World Without You

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: What's up y'all?! @brassknucklespeirs and I have been talking about soulmate aus, and now they're living rent free in my brain. I had a wild day at school, and using those feeling to create angst was strangely therapeutic, I won't lie. I hope you enjoy this, and my requests are always open if you have something specific you would like to see! (As always, this is written for the fictional depictions from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real-life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! The usual HBOwar stuff: war, guns, injury, blood, language. I also didn't really proof read this, so take that for what it's worth.

"So is it like, a cultural thing?" George asks. In between his shivering, he gives you a sideways glance, watching you tense up as you continue staring straight ahead through the darkness, watching the line. He shrugs. "I've just always wondered."

"About what?"

He shrugs again. "Well, back in Toccoa, I kinda thought maybe you were just shy. But I know that's not true; you're pretty chatty after a few drinks. I remember reading somewhere once, before the war, maybe back in school, that in some cultures it's rude, or even taboo."

On your other side, Joe huffs. The cool air in front of him clouds up with what little warmth he can muster. "George, I'm sure if she wanted to talk about it, she woulda told ya by now."

"Yeah, Luz," you agree. "If I knew what the hell you were talking about, I probably could have answered you twelve different times."

The radioman knocks his shoulder against your own. "Awe, come on (Y/N). My brain is frozen -- gimme a break."

"Okay. I'll answer if you actually ask the question."

"Okay." Luz nods. For someone who was so eager to find answers a moment before, he seems unsure of himself when you give him permission to ask. He stops looking at you and trains his own eyes on the line, voice softening when he asks, "Why do you never look anyone in the eye?"

There it is.

Toye reaches behind you to smack Luz on the back of his helmet.

"Ow!"

"You can't just ask that!" Joe reprimands. "Besides, you could probably just figure it out from context."

Joe is right. It seems like most people should have figured it out by now. Maybe then you wouldn't have so many sweet-talking replacements sauntering up to you with calls of, "Hey, Shy Girl, you found your man yet, or are you playin' hard to get?" or "Baby, I bet I could be the one to make you see color."

Because that's the thing: your world has always been shades of black and white, and it will remain that way until you look into the eyes of your soulmate. The first color you ever see will be the color of their eyes, and then -- according to everything you've heard your friends and family describe -- the rest of the world will follow as a whole universe of color is revealed to you. But therein lies several problems for you.

Problem one: you didn't find your soulmate back at home before the war. Which, you initially thought, might be okay. Maybe you would meet them after. Or during, some of your more romantic-minded friends told you dreamily before you shipped out.

Which made problem two all too real to you: if you meet your soulmate and then they die, the world will go back to being black and white.

The realization had hit you like a punch in the gut. Everyone else seemed to think it was tragically romantic, but not you. You had always known the world as shades of plainness and shadow. How could you stand it, if you discovered the beauty of the world, only to then have it stripped away from you? And worse, how could you stand to lose the person that you loved -- that you were destined to be with? Something that was all too possible in the middle of a war.

So you made a decision. A hard one, but one that seemed necessary -- you wouldn't look a stranger in the eye again until after the war.

Under the blanket of night, huddled together with your friends for warmth, you tell them exactly that. No one can tell if the slight shake in your voice is from emotion or from the cold, and no one calls it into question. You've never told anyone before. You're not sure how they might react.

Joe pats your knee. He's not a man of words, but his action says it all.

"I'm sorry," Luz whispers. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay," you reassure him, trying to smile, more for yourself than for him. To lighten the mood, you decide to do what he would do if he weren't in an awkward position -- you crack a joke. "Why does it matter, Luz? You worried we might be soulmates?"

Taken off guard, he laughs. "I won't lie, (Y/N), the thought has occurred to me."

It had taken a lot of strength to tell them your secret. Now though, they know -- secrets rarely feel so heavy when there's someone who can help you carry them. Your burden reduced, you turn towards him in the darkness. "Well, let's find out."

"What?" Out of reflex, he turns to you.

Your eyes meet and . . .

Nothing. The world is still black and white.

"That answers that question," Luz says.

"Toye, you wanna find out if we're destined to be together?" You tease.

"Eh, why not." You blink owlishly at each other in the darkness, searching each others eyes for something that might not have been there before. Nothing happens, but neither of you breaks eye contact.

A smile pulls at the corner of Joe's mouth, and before you know it, the two of you are giggling at the idea of finding out that one of your oldest war-buddies might have been your soulmate all along without you realizing it. Who knows if it would have been funny anywhere but Bastogne -- the environmental pressures are starting to get to everyone -- but in that moment, it's the most hilarious thing in the world. Even George is shaking with laughter.

"Shhhh!" Only the sound of crunching snow rushing towards your fox hole can stop the joke. Compton leans down, his eyes never leaving the line in front of him as he hisses, "Keep it down! You wanna give away our position?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," you giggle.

For all your trying, it's not until he's long gone that the three of you manage to catch your breath. Somehow, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, however slightly. You can look your best friends in the eye. That's something.

You fall asleep between them, the world still black and white, but not quite so dismal as you once imagined your dull color scheme to be.

"I've been workin' on the railroad, all the livelong day," you sing along with the other men, your grin the widest it's been in a while. Finally out of the fox holes, finally haven taken Foy, finally moving on.

"I've been working on the railroad, just to pass the time away --"

You're just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, things will start to look up for Easy Company when something zings by your ear. One of the men beside you falls to the ground, and suddenly, the world around you descends into chaos.

A few more men drop like flies. Others tumblr over each other like dominos, some of them trying to flatten themselves to the ground for cover while others trip over each other to duck behind one of the nearby buildings.

"Sniper!" someone calls out. A body slams into yours as you try to scramble away from the tank you had been sitting on. The force of their body against yours sends you stumbling. It's just enough to hold you back from safety, and you feel the hot metal rip through your thigh.

You cry out as you hit the ground. Around you, bullets still race to find new marks as the sniper's rifle peppers the air with the sound of rounds being fired. You're face down on the dirty snow. It's harder than it should be not to roll over and call out for help, but the image of Julian back in Bastogne enters your mind and you settle for clenching your right hand into a fist and shoving it over your mouth to muffle your cries as you wait for it to be over.

More gunshots. Some cheers. How long have you been on the ground? A few minutes? Hours?

Someone grabs you by the shoulder and flips you over. Only then do you gasp out in pain.

"(Y/L/N)! Where are you hit?" Sergeant Lipton demands.

"Thigh." You try to sit up, but the Sergeant holds you down as he calls out for a medic. "Are the others okay?"

"Shifty got the sniper," Lipton assures you with a weak smile.

"But what about the others who got hit?"

"Alright, where'd they get her?" Spina asks as he appears beside you. From your awkward angle on your back, you can see him grimace as he looks at your thigh, which is pulsing with white hot pain.

"Is it bad? Is it --" you have to stop and swallow before you can continue. "Did they get an artery?"

"Roe's got the morphine," Spina says, looking over his shoulder and calling for the Louisiana boy before glancing back down at you. "Just take it easy, (Y/N)."

You grit your teeth through a spark of pain. It's hot and bright -- probably what stars feel like as they burn out.

"Hey --" Lipton pats your cheek with his hand, trying to keep you grounded. "Stay with me, (Y/N). Roe's comin', okay? Hey, at least you didn't get shot in the ass like Perco, huh?"

"Mighta hurt less," you hiss.

"She got morphine?" A thick accent asks as Doc Roe appears above you. He glances down at your thigh and then at you. And then --

Something happens.

Roe must sense it too, because just as his eyes start to move back to your injury, he stops short. Something about his eyes . . . it's hard to describe. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before.

They're not black and white, you realize with a start. You gasp sharply, not sure if it's from pain or from the shock. Then, slowly, the world around you draws into focus in a way it never has before. The blacks and whites you've become so accustomed to fade away as color seeps in, like water paints bleeding onto a fresh sheet of paper, filling in the world in ways that you didn't even know was possible.

"Doc, are you gonna help her?!" Lipton asks as Roe falls to his knees beside you, still staring straight into your eyes. Neither of you take note of Spina cursing in confusion, grabbing Doc's bag and tearing through it for morphine and bandages.

"It's you," you gasp at the same time that Roe whispers, "I found you."

Lipton looks between the two of you in confusion. The minute it clicks, his jaw drops into a capital O. "Oh shit."

"Right --" Spina pats your leg and stands up as more people approach. " -- Didn't hit an artery, but she'll need to visit an aide station to get this cleaned up. I've done what I can."

Aide station?

"Wait, no!" You try to push yourself up, try to prove that you're fine. If you get taken to a hospital, it might take forever for them to let you out. And then how will you get back to Easy? Something could happen to Roe before you return.

You grasp the Cajun boy's hand as you're lifted onto the piece of wood that's serving as a crude stretcher. Over the rumbling of the approaching Jeep engine, you plead with him. "Don't let them take me, Doc. I'll be fine. I'm fine! I don't wanna go."

"You gotta," he says sadly. "Your leg . . ."

"I want to stay here," you insist. "Please. Please, Gene."

"I'll find you." He presses a kiss to the back of your hand as they load you into the Jeep. "I promise, we'll find each other again, okay? But you gotta go now, (Y/N)."

Your tightly knitted fingers unravel as the vehicle starts to move, unnoticing and uncaring of your feelings on the matter. For the first time since you got hit, you feel your eyes grow hot and watery. There's no use trying to hold back the tears that slip out as you're driven away from the boy who colored in your world.

From the boy who's your soulmate.

#I said angst and I meant angst #bon appetit ya know?#band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #doc roe #eugene roe #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #my writing #soulmate au #george luz #joe toye #carwood lipton #ralph spina #buck compton

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kateis-cakeis · 4 months

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I think what really gets to me with the finale is that Merlin was so close to getting Arthur to the lake. Yet, there was no plan beyond that. It's like even if they did get there, who knows if anything would have happened.

The idea that there was still more tragedy awaiting even if they made it, that yeah despite all of Merlin’s magic, he couldn't save Arthur's life.

It was always the possibility of the Sidhe, but there was no guarantee. It was all hope from the start, endless hope that failed them in the end.

Because well, it was always supposed to happen like this anyway... Arthur was meant to die so he could rise again, there was no alternative

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #some little festive angst for you all on the angstiest day of the year for this fandom ;)#i just feel for Merlin so much all that hope to save his loved one and yet and yettttt #like genuinely what would have happened like Merlin has gone around murdering Sidhe left and right djdjdjd #It was always meant to be this way is something that we all must come to accept with the canon #As Julian Murphy said in the infamous commentary they had to deliver on Arthur's death because they had been building up to it for so long!#anyway i love it watching Arthur's death is kinda like a strange catharsis for me these days #like it's I look at it like it's okay there's still hope it's okay to watch him die and feel sad it's not over forever

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skitskatdacat63 · 2 months

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His bullfighting days aren't over quite yet.

#GET IT??? HIS *BULL*FIGHTING DAYS....hahah yeahhhh im so clever.....#suddenly had the urge to draw old man version matador nando bcs DC randomly called him a matador during quali #and im like oh my god....dc....youre so right....#hoping this piece works as some kind of blood sacrifice for his performance in about 7 hrs :)#get it blood sacrifice??? and hes cutting his hand in this piece???#thats supposed to represent two things.#1. hes doing a blood pact/sacrifice so his performance goes well #2. hes testing the sharpness so he can slay the bull!(and the...horse? 🤭🤭)#had a very interesting convo w Suzuki abt the implications of matador nando #based on a meme i made 😭 abt how our fantasy is that hes gonna be the bullfighter. hes gonna slay the bull #but the reality will be that he looks upon the bull from a distance #hes meant to kill the bull to overcome it. but he just ends up longing to be the bull. he fails.. hahaha get it....#lmao angst aside i think its kinda funny how i can have this reasoning for the matador au in two eras #thats long the old man has been here. has had two distinct periods of challenging the (red) bull #ANYWAYS!!!! hope ya like!!!!!! i think this is pretty relevant hopefully 🤭🤭#quite happy w this one even if it was less of an ordeal than most of my drawings #waaaahahhh hes so handsome!!!!! handsomest guy!!!!!!!#lol scheduling this like an hr before the race cause as i said. its an offering. its a sacrifice. i pray to the racing gods #tw blood #<- just a bit 🥰 he was originally just gonna be holding the sword but i realized ouch! sharp!!!#f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso #catie.art.#fa14 #f1 art #f1 fanart #matador au

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thesylverlining · 19 days

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Might be spite-writing baby's first Disco Elysium fanfic

Because a bitch (me, I'm bitch) saw one too many things that slimmed Harry down (presented as an unambiguous Good Thing) so I had to write Kim adoring his belly before I turned into the got dang Joker

#this is my supervillain origin story #also kim is trans. because.#disco elysium #it was meant to be pure fluff but oop there's angst now too #i said 'drabble' and god help me it's 2k already #it's like day 5 of shark week so i wenT Fuck It and engaged in SELF INDULGENCE

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the-wiggler · 15 days

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take me in your tender arms, roll me in the dirt

Sypnosis: It's not love, but Gage will take what he can (and remain in deep denial).

spotify play lover's dream by saints amongst sinners

[title is from cover me in roses in holden laurence]

word count: 1.3k

“Fuck, this party is boring,” They sigh, leaning on the counter and taking a swig of their beer. They were in the kitchen of some house party, the sound of some Spotify EDM playlist thumping in the background.

Gage glanced over, peeling away at the sticker of some off-brand beer, condensation dripping down his hands. “Yeah,” He chuckled, eyes darting to them, “We should’ve known the minute we heard this music. It’s downright tragic.” His eyes follow the curve of their smirk, searching for approval.

‘Down, boy. Your tail is practically wagging.’

Gage quickly averts his eyes, paying close attention to the way the ceiling light hits his beer bottle. He could barely look in their eyes most of the time, breathtakingly beautiful and full of promises. But now, when they were dressed in some tight top that left little to the imagination and showed just enough skin to leave him craving for more, Gage feared bursting into flames if he looked at them too long.

“I thought that parties now would be better than those booze-fests in high school but God,” They sigh, running a hand through their hair, “This is somehow worse. It smells like sex and artificial fruits everywhere.”

“That’s the vapes, I think. All the rage nowadays.”

They wrinkle their nose, “Fuck, that must be it. God, I can’t believe I got dressed for nothing.”

“I mean you look good,” He nervously forces out, taking a swig of his beer to fuel his confidence, “And maybe I could, uh, give that outfit the attention it deserves. Could think of a few ways to make it worth your while. Upstairs, maybe.”

They return the look with a surreptitious smile and throw back a sip of their own beer, letting the question linger in the stale, suddenly too-quiet kitchen. “Yeah? And just what do you intend to do to me upstairs, mister?”

It’s a game they play, sometimes at a frat party, sometimes when they message him in the middle of the night to come over, and they spend the hour making “small talk” before they inevitably end up in bed again. Always playing coy, dancing around what they really wanted. Teasing him and pushing him until he took the final step. It made Gage’s head spin.

“Oh? You want me to say it here? In the kitchen?” He feigns disbelief, placing his beer bottle down, placing it on his chest in astonishment, “You absolute heathen!”

Mocking, joking, in an attempt to break the blatantly brewing sexual tension.

He’s still learning to get over his people-pleasing propensities, learning to ask for what he wants directly and accepting the consequences. But it’s a work in progress, and when faced with his friends-with-benefits that he’s not in love with, his resolve crumbles and all he knows is to beat around the bush, to laugh off any sense of intimacy between them, to hide any semblance of yearning on his part.

“Hmm,” They smile, enigmatic as the Mona Lisa. Putting down their beer and moving to face him, they crowd him against the countertop, pressing their barely covered chest to his, eyes slowly dragging up, lingering, very pointedly, on his lips before meeting his gaze, “Me? A heathen? You’re the one who’s been staring at me all evening, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The words whispered against his lips, softly, their lips grazing against his for the briefest of seconds before pulling away, like it was a secret only for the both of them.

Cause at the end of the day, that was all it was, wasn’t it? They were each other's dirty secret, whispered under the loud music of a frat party, said in the silent looks sent across the room. And Gage was fine with that, really, he was. The physical satisfaction of feeling them close to him, sending waves and waves of pleasure coursing through him, sneaking out of their room even before the sun had risen, hiding away in closets and watching them flirt with other people, just for him to end up in their bed again. He was absolutely ok with that.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he surges forward, closing the distance between them with one hand cupping their face, the other dropping down to their waist, removing any semblance of space between them.

They move in tandem, lips moulding and bodies pushing against each other. God, they tasted good, like beer and passion and wanton lust. He was addicted to the taste, addicted to them, their hands roaming his body, their body grinding against his. An erotic display of bodies moving against each other, grasping desperately where they could, tiny gasps and moans entirely too inappropriate for the back of some frat boy’s kitchen.

They part, eyes still closed, his lips desperately chasing theirs. “Shall we, uh, adjourn to the bedroom, my liege?” Even now, even when they’ve made clear their desires, will he continue to hide the hopeless pining of his heart. Because this isn’t what he wants, not really, no matter how much he lies to himself, tells himself otherwise.

He wants to kiss them because he wants to, wants to kiss them over morning breakfast, wants to be greeted with their sweet smile when he comes home from work, wants to learn the quiet, intimate, inconsequential details of their everyday life, wants to become so intertwined with them that he teetered on the very edge of losing himself.

Most importantly, he wanted them to love him the way he loves them.

But that’s for another night.

For now, he revels in their breathless chuckle, letting them pull him through the throngs of drunkards into some random’s bedroom. There, they push him onto the bed, grinning deviously as he lets out a quiet oof before climbing on top of him and continuing their heated kiss. His hands move to tug at their hair, swallowing the groan that falls from their lips while they move to slip under his shirt, cold hands against his warm body making him shudder.

“Watch the hands,” He breathlessly warns as they part, even as he quickly pushes his sweater over his shirt, “Oh- fuck- wait, my sweater uh- a little help please?” They snort, breaking the mood momentarily as they carefully manoeuvre his sweater over his head.

“Ok, ok quit laughing, asshole,” He complains, tugging at the hem of their tight shirt, “C’mon, off. S’not fair I’m the only half-dressed one here.”

“Wait.” They mutter, moving their head down to press a light kiss to his neck, forcing a gasp through Gage’s lips. They continue their assault on him, pressing soft kisses all over his body, marking him, smiling against his soft body as he falls apart under their ministrations.

And maybe one day, Gage will ruin this perfectly good arrangement, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. But for now? For tonight? When they’re worshipping him like this, sweet praises falling from those kiss-bruised lips? When their hands are pressed against his sweaty body? Gage will tell himself that maybe, just maybe, they feel the same way he does, that they want him the way he does.

That maybe their heart also threatens to burst when they hear him laugh, that they search for him in every room without even meaning to. That every joke they tell is just to hear him laugh, that every love song seems to have that one specific line that so perfectly describes him, that they have a secret playlist for him that they listen to in the dead of night. That every kiss they press to his body is an admission of love, of adoration for his entire being.

He lets himself forget, momentarily, that this is all a dream, that in the morning (if they even stayed that long) this would be over; that the love and ecstasy he feels is only a means to an end for them, a temporary distraction for his aching heart.

For tonight, he forgets.

#reverie audios #gage reverie audios #when i said i couldnt get gage out of my head....#I MEANT IT #i hate when they have angst but I also EAT THAT SHIT UP!!!#also i was gna post on ao3 but I understand the tagging system even less then tumblr #also ALSO i made a playlist of gage in his pining era and hell yeah u bet do i wanna know os there #silly writing stuff: reverie edition #yapping about gage #my humble offerings

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andieanderson-writes · 5 months

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I'm writing the softest, hurt to comfort Nanami fic inspired by a bruno major song rn, and I don’t think my heart can handle it. I'm writing this post for y'all to hold me accountable and remind me to post it within the next two days. Spam me if I don't. PLEASE. Y'ALL NEED TO READ WHAT MY MIND KEPT ME UP WITH😭😭😭☝🏻

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torra-and-the-toons · 8 months

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I know, much like the actual show, Wakko's Wish wasn't meant to be taken 100% seriously. I mean for christ's sake the surgery Dot needed was just a beauty mark implant to be even cuter.

But like... god damn Wakko really puts so much on the line for his sister and never once gives up hope. He's such a pure, honest, and selfless soul I just CAN'T he makes me CRY.

All three of them in this movie are just so good tbh and all the other characters trying to take that wish from them can go fuck themselves.

#torra rambles #animaniacs #wakko's wish #I honestly can't sit through the entire movie but the parts with the warners warm my heart #the scene where yakko tells dot the story and Wakko finding the star actually bring me to my knees #I live for this kind of angst #like I said I know it's not really meant to be taken 100% seriously but I like to pretend Dot was actually really sick

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hikari-writes · 1 year

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If there's one trope i have a hard time imagining oikawa tooru being in, its best friend to lovers 🤔🤔

LIKE??? I always imagine tooru being the type who would never think of his best friend as anything more once he established that they're his best friend???

He would sometimes (a lot of times actually-) jokingly flirt with you but even then those are strictly platonic. People would see the both of you and think, ah yes, oikawa being annoying, nothing new there.

But just because i said i have a hard time imagining it, doesn't mean i hate it nor i can't imagine it at all. Quite the opposite actually. I find tooru in this trope to be quite fascinating.

Hear me out here okay?

Oikawa Tooru, who has been friends with you for god knows how long. The one who has been by your side through your every ups and downs, comforting you when you're sad, sharing your happy moments together, cheering you up to get your minds off of things that upset you.

Oikawa Tooru, who will literally drive how many hours to your house as soon as he knew you had a shitty week or if you had a failed relationship. The one who will, without fail, blackmail the person who made you feel like that and destroy them inside out.

Oikawa Tooru, who loves your smile more than anything in this world, and hates to see your tears more than anything in this world.

Oikawa Tooru, who finds his heart fluttering when you mentioned how lucky you were to have him by your side, or when you snuggled closer to him because of how comfortable it was and him finding his heart going up to his throat at the close proximity between you two.

Oikawa Tooru, who finds you so endearing and only wishes to hold you in his arms for as long as he can and pepper you with kisses and whisper i love yous into your ear.

Oh?

Are these feelings normal for him to have towards his best friend? The one who he’s spent years and most of his time hanging out with? No matter how you look at it, his feelings for you are definitely not just of a friend’s.

Oikawa Tooru, who is only now realizing his feelings for you. How long has he been feeling this way? Probably way longer than he’d like to admit. Way, way longer.

Oikawa Tooru, who has fallen so helplessly in love with you, his best friend, but at the same time is unable to say it out loud in fear of ruining what you two have currently. He who fears the idea of getting rejected by his best friend, and never being able to show his face around you ever again.

Oikawa Tooru, who now finds the thin line that differentiates a friend and a lover so easy to cross, yet so hard. He has to consider what you feel towards him. It's all too risky no matter how simple it looks.

Maybe he'll move on from you one day. Or maybe he won't. But for now, he'll settle for the best friend title as long as he gets to stay by your side. And maybe, just maybe, holds a single, tiny bit of hope, that you would see him. Not as your best friend, but as something else. Something more affectionate and something more intimate. Something that's less platonic.

Until that day come however, he'll just have to accept his fate of being in love with his best friend, aka you.

Haha queued post again im so seory 😭🙏 i rlly said: today we contradicting ourself to make us look more like a clown yea 🤡 have a hard time imagining it then practically vmits out a whole ass imagines 🙄 but neways i had fun!! Writing for tooru is always such a pleasure i love him/p!!! Also this is totally so much longer than i anticipated im soery the idea was too good--

#CouGH see what i meant when i said i have a hard time imagining #i meant that like....as a general common trope for him?#like i think tooru fits smthng like #rivals or blind date or fake dating #smthng that doesnt involve him and u being friends in the first place u get #wat im sayinng?#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu aoba johsai

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sunnimint · 3 months

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Sneak peek of chapter 24 of BoaE 👀

#mint.txt #boae.txt #metonic #i meant it when I said cottage core #sprinkled with angst of course #and comfort too

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lindonwald · 1 year

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soooo,,,,Bridgerton AU?

#hetalia #aph romania #aph bulgaria #aph moldova #hws romania #hws bulgaria #hws moldova #I wanted to post this with the season 1 poster redraw #but I can’t decide on a ship for that one hahahaha #this one was clear from the beginning tho #one because I need the you are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires scene for robul SO BAD #and two because the angst of that scene that’s like >you are my brother< / >HALF brother<#I want ro to have >do you even know all the ways a Lord could be seduced?< tho hahaha #I need season 3 and I need it now……#when I said I can make any media about my favourite ship I MEANT THAT #also yes aged up mol HAHAHAHA #(tbh I don’t get why he’s a kid in canon)#(don’t use)

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orbmanson7 · 8 months

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@intrulogical sent me a Logan Angst prompt!

logan crying in a video whilst offering a solution to something and thomas going "stop crying"

I'm still taking Logan Angst prompts from any word or phrase sent to my ask box!

Asking for clarification had become almost habit for him by now.

"Ah, so you didn't mean that literally then?" Logan steadied his expression after the realization struck him. "I suppose this is why clarification is so useful in these discussions."

"There's nothing to clarify, Specs!" Roman threw his hands up dramatically. "It's not like we were trying to trick you!"

Logan blinked at that response. He hadn't thought they were trying to deceive him with their words, no, but it's not as though they had meant what they said, either. Hence the need for clarification.

He nodded towards Roman, replying,

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Roman instantly cut him off. "Because it seems like it takes a million times for us to explain something to you before you actually get it!"

Oh. So he was bothered by Logan's repeated desire for clarification. The quantity was the issue.

"I believe I understand your concern. While some subjects may take extra consideration, I can assure you, I am trying my best."

"Are you?"

Thomas stared back at him with an unreadable expression. Was it unreadable to everyone else, too, or just him?

"Wh..." He was so shocked to hear Thomas outright doubt him like that, he couldn't even formulate the question he wanted to ask. He tried not to let it show, straightening his stance.

Thomas needed his trust, his confidence.

"Of course I am," he told him.

He just needed to be confident. He didn't need to bring more doubt to the topic at hand, after all.

"Princey kind of has a point, though," Thomas only frowned at him. "We've talked about this before, but you never seem to get it. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, yes, of course," Logan replied as quickly as possible, trying not to sputter over how badly his attempt had just failed. "But it's not as though I have limitless knowledge--"

"Aren't you his language center or whatever it's called?" Virgil piped up. "Isn't this supposed to be your thing?"

"I operate his recognition and use of language, yes," he answered truthfully, "but understanding more than the contextual meaning behind a phrase via facial expression or body language or tone of voice doesn't typically fall to my expertise--"

"Then why are you even doing it?"

"Wh... It... Because it's my job."

He'd never had anyone ask him such a question before, and he wasn't sure there was a better way to answer it.

"And yet," Roman butted in, "you need us to explain what we mean forty times every episode for you to understand? If it's your job, shouldn't you already know how to do that?" He grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's not like I have to relearn how to write every time I have an idea, you know. I already know how to do it. So what's your problem?"

Logan stared. He...wasn't sure there was an adequate answer to that, either. Surely, there was a legitimate reason why pragmatic errors frequented his discussions with others, but if it really was his role to handle that on Thomas' behalf, why was he continuously struggling with it? Why had he not learned about it, held onto that knowledge, and then applied it when the situation arose, just as he had with near everything else?

Why was this different, especially when it so heavily affected his purpose to Thomas?

What was his problem?

Roman laughed.

"What? Cat got your tongue now?"

"...no?" Logan raised an eyebrow, confused. "I still have my tongue and there is no cat to--"

"Logan, seriously, just stop." Thomas held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't even looking at Logan as he spoke. "You're the one always lecturing us about learning stuff but then you don't even understand half of what we're saying unless we spell it out for you!"

Logan bit his lip, willing himself to understand.

"I don't think you'd need to spell anything out, Thomas. I simply ask that you clarify the meaning of--"

"For the love of God, Logan, this is exactly what we're talking about!" Thomas shouted, finally turning to look directly at him.

Logan paused. So this was more of the same, then.

"Ah."

It wasn't just that he was asking too often, it was the matter of his asking at all.

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Boy, and you call me stupid."

"I don't believe I've called you that," Logan responded calmly, then adding, "Today."

Even if it was harsh, at least when he had said that, he meant what he said.

After all, why would someone say something they didn't mean? Wouldn't they want to be understood? To be able to communicate effectively?

When he spoke, he wanted to not only be heard but for others to know what he was trying to convey. Using hidden context served little purpose, and only proved to create massive communication issues like this one.

Logan absently fiddled with the end of his tie.

The others were all looking at him disapprovingly.

He swallowed, but something in his throat felt tight, obstructed. His eyes seemed less focused, slightly blurring around the edges.

He tried to take a proper breath, but it came in shuddering and came back out shaky.

None of these were good signs, at least as far as seeming professional goes.

"Perhaps I have asked for clarification far too often for your liking." Logan paused, expecting to be cut off yet again. When the others didn't respond, he continued, "I merely wish to make sure we're communicating properly, that I'm not misunderstanding your--"

"We shouldn't have to explain it every time!"

And there it was.

Roman and Thomas both began yelling a number of things, but Logan just waited.

Everything they were saying... They were right. Something was definitely wrong here. Logan shouldn't be continuing to struggle if they've all done their part to explain their intention so many times. Why was he still in need of clarification, of assistance? Why hadn't he resolved this on his own already?

He would have to keep trying.

As it quieted down, he turned to Thomas, attempting to hold his gaze without trepidation.

"I... I'll keep trying, then."

"What, so you weren't trying before?" Thomas was so immediately outraged. "How long are we going to have to put up with this?"

"Logan, maybe you just need to try a different way of figuring it out." Patton offered, hands up, placating. "We all know you get stuck in your ways, so maybe just try it our way this time, yeah?"

But doing just that hadn't ended well at all last time. He couldn't have been the only one who remembered that, right? Last time, he was only left confused and ultimately misunderstood by the others when he tried it 'their way'. That couldn't possibly be the solution. No, there had to be something else.

"Well," Logan tried, "I don't know if that would--"

"He's right!" Roman cut in, sounding angry. "You don't even want to get it, do you? Is this an attention thing again??"

Roman moved his arms around in ways that failed to make sense to Logan at all.

"Oh no, Logan needs even more attention now so he has to pretend to be stupid to get even more camera time!"

Logan was completely confused at such a comment. That didn't seem like a fair judge of his conduct at all.

He grimaced,

"I... I would never pretend to--"

"L, it's fine if you're just doing it so you get to talk more," Virgil told him, leaning back casually on the staircase. "I get it, man, but this isn't the way, you know?"

Logan did not 'get it' like Virgil apparently did. Why would someone pretend to not understand something? Why not just be sincere, clarify their confusion so they can get the help they need? What purpose would it serve to lie about it?

"I just..." He wasn't sure how to explain to them that he wasn't pretending without knowing why they thought he was. "That's not... I wouldn't do that--"

"Oh, please." Roman scoffed.

Thomas sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"Logan, the excuses aren't helping, either."

He hadn't meant to bother Thomas with all of this. He was at a loss on what he could do to fix this mess, one he had apparently started all on his own.

He swallowed again, feeling heat begin to rise behind his eyes.

"A-apologies."

Thomas shoved his hands down at his sides. Logan may not have been the best with body language but he could certainly tell his choice to apologize had been the wrong one to make.

Thomas glared at him, something Logan realized he had started to see more often lately. Logan flinched without meaning to, and he couldn't even begin to understand the shiver that had gone through him or what it could possibly mean. His vision blurred.

He could just make out Thomas' expression as it twisted at Logan's knee-jerk reaction, and he suddenly shouted at Logan,

"Ugh, stop crying! Just do better!"

He really hadn't meant to have any overt reaction, but he'd been quite unprepared for this turn of events.

Where had they come up with the idea that he would lie about this? Was this his fault to begin with, for not putting in enough effort to understand, to learn, to improve?

Clearly they had a better understanding than he did, so perhaps they were right. Maybe he was capable of understanding and was simply choosing not to properly learn how to discern the difference in someone's words with how they speak them.

He reached up, removed his glasses, and wiped a palm across his eye, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing. He wasn't entirely sure when he had started crying, either, but now it didn't seem to want to stop.

Thomas was right. Logan had to do better. It was past time he did his job the right way by now, and in the way Thomas wanted above all else.

He put his glasses back on and turned to Thomas, ignoring the last tear escaping down his cheek as he spoke.

"I'll try."

#logan angst #logan sanders #fanfiction #finally something with some dialogue #ooh boy i swear this isn't unsympathetic sides and thomas even if it seems like it #this is genuinely just a very bad reaction to Logan's difficulty with pragmatics #stuff like hyperbole innuendo metaphors irony and sarcasm all change how youre meant to interpret language #so of course logan can understand whats being said but when you change how you say it then it becomes harder for him to understand #when you dont say what you mean you know?#anyway yeah angst fun enjoy #sanders sides #long post #orbs speech bubbles #oh! and i was listening to I'll Try from Peter Pan 2 Return to Neverland when i wrote this #go listen to that and tell me thats not a logan angst song yeah?

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lostworldss · 5 months

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Currently going insane over Nia’s scene last chapter.

The fact MC had to awkwardly walk up and ask Nia just to kiss her in the first place because she unsure of how Nia feels.

And then Nia slowly becoming herself again when kissing MC.

And MC being so completely desperate to bring Nia back with her kiss.

And then Nia realizing this and switching back to Shadow and immediately breaking away from MC. She doesn’t want to hurt MC but still walks away.

#I am going to eat glass #this is so painful #like i am no longer having a good time #when i said i wanted angst this isn’t what i meant #the writing of this scene is really good tho #especially with the ‘finally home’ line because throughout the book MC described kissing and being with Nia as being their home #playchoices #blades of light and shadow #nia ellarious #nia x mc

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dereles · 2 years

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Derek follows the scent, gets an uneasiness he can’t shake. He tracks it down until he realizes that it’s not some innocuous bonfire—it’s Stiles’ house.

He can’t hear anything over the roar of the flames, can’t hear if anyone’s in the house. So he centers himself as much as he can with his heart beating out of his chest, and tries to find the sound of Stiles’ voice, the Sheriff, a distant sound of sirens. What he finds is the rumble of Stiles’ jeep, and relief crashes over him so strongly he’s nearly brought to his knees. It’s not certain, though, so he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and finds Stiles’ number.

“Is there anyone in your house?” Derek asks, as soon as the line connects.

“What? Why?”

“Is there anyone in your house.” Derek asks again, demanding.

“Uh—My dad was home when I left. Why? Derek, what’s happening?”

Derek’s stomach drops, his entire body going tense.

“Call the fire department.”

“Wha—”

“Call the fire department.”

Derek hangs up. There’s so much adrenaline running through him that he feels detached, watching distantly as a part of the house collapses in on itself in a plume of dark smoke. He doesn’t move for long seconds, inhaling deeply even as he feels ash scraping his lungs.

He’s violently jolted back into himself when he breathes in again and…and he knows that—that’s the smell of burning flesh. That’s the smell of Stiles’ only family burning alive and the rumble of Stiles’ jeep getting closer and he can’t—he can’t let—

Derek’s eyes are open, but he’s not seeing. Everything narrows down to that single scent as he takes a step forward, another step—not Stiles, not him too.

He might hear Stiles’ voice as he steps over the threshold, distracted as he remembers that there’s no mountain ash here, nothing that will keep him out, nothing that will keep them trapped inside. It falls away at the sight of the Sheriff, only feet away from the door, grunting with effort as he tries to push a burning chunk of roof off himself with black and blistered hands.

Derek’s shoving it away, pulling him up, half-carrying the man out the door, completely unaware of the deep groves of ash already healing in his palms. Stiles is running towards him—crying, terrified—but he hears the Sheriff’s steady, calming tone through choking coughs as they collapse against each other a safe distance from the flames.

Derek can’t stay—he can’t be near it anymore, but he can’t leave, wherever he goes he knows he’ll still be tasting ash, that smell—

He runs away. He runs home, home that’s not home anymore, home painted with soot and pain and guilt and alone, what he deserves.

He spends the night there by himself. But what he doesn’t know is that he won’t have to be alone much longer.

#sterek #should I make this a ‘read more’#derek hale #when I said there was more I meant in my head! but all my prompts are open for use lol #lowkey i might actually continue this #cause so many people want it and I did flesh out the idea more in my head #stiles stilinski #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #teen wolf #sterek prompt #sterek prompts #stiles stilinski x derek hale #eternalsterek #sterek is eternal #oops i guess #sterek angst #sterek imagine

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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part one

------

“Oh, wow…guys, I just had the craziest dream…”

“Hey, me too! There was this weird, like, demonic Steve Harvey —”

“Oh my God! With the pictionary?”

“— and the family feud! Yeah! Holy shit —”

Lance’s hands shake on Red’s controls. All of him shakes, really, trembling like the last dead leaf on a barren tree.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

As if he’s miles underwater, he hears the rest of the team chatter excitedly about the games they played. The drama, the excitement.

He hears them talk about the test.

He hears Coran say Bob is a god.

Mostly, though, he hears his blood rushing through his ears, and Keith’s words repeating over and over in his head. Again and again.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

No one attempts to drag him into the conversation. He’s not sure what he’d do if they did. It’s better that they ignore him.

It still manages to hurt his heart more, somehow.

(He wonders how many of them were relieved when Keith finally said what must have been on all their minds. What they’ve been feeling for — God, for who knows how long. Did they talk about it, when he wasn’t around? Did Pidge and Hunk make eye contact and roll their eyes over his head over every failed sim, back at the Garrison? Did Allura and Coran giggle in Altean about Lance’s idiocy? Did Shiro plan missions around him?

They must have. They must have. There’s no other — why else would they let Keith say that? Why else would they stay silent?

They all think it. All of them.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.)

He doesn’t bother getting out of his lion when they set up camp for the night. He stays right where he is, rigid and unmoving in the pilot’s seat.

Not unmoving.

Shaking.

No one comes. No one messages. He watches as they joke and laugh over the campfire. He can imagine what they’re talking about.

It was so crazy, they must be saying. Lance just kept fumbling! Man, I’m glad we’re heading to Earth. I didn’t know how to say it… but it’ll be easier to drop him off, you know?

He shudders. He thought — he can’t believe he thought they were fine. He knows he’s not great at reading people, but he’s never been this wrong before. He’s never — he’s never loved someone, before, who was disgusted by him.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

Why would they pretend? Why would — why would Keith pretend? It couldn’t have been easy. It couldn’t have been easy for him to smile, soft, promise that Lance was useful and had a place on the team, lying through his teeth. He thought — he always thought Keith was so honest.

He’s always trusted Keith. Even when he was jealous. He thought Keith was true.

He stays awake long after everyone else rolls out their sleeping bags. Long after the fire reduces to embers. Long after the lions power down. He stays, stuck in his seat, shuddering.

Thinking.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

They’re so far from home. Months, at least, of travel. Of close proximity with each other. And Red’s not always empty. It’ll be his turn to host, soon. For Shiro or Romelle or Coran or Krolia to stay with him.

To sit in the cockpit with him. Share the space. Share the air. Talk, probably.

(Will they bother? With pleasantries? With small talk? Would it be better if they did? Would it hurt less to sit in silence? To count down the minutes until they can be away from him?)

He won’t — he’ll be expected to bond with him still, will he? To share his mindspace? To form Voltron? To be connected, by their quintessence, as one?

(How did Keith do it, before? How did he pretend? Lance opened to them because he loved them. Because he trusted them. Because there was nothing he wanted more than to share with them, to save with them. How did they fake it so well? Lance didn’t notice. He didn’t feel their disgust. Their annoyance. He didn’t — he didn’t know.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.)

He can’t… he can’t stay here. Not for months. He can’t wake up every day to people who don’t want him, who don’t even like him. How can he? How can he continue to take up space when they’re wishing so desperately he wouldn’t?

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

For the first time in hours, he moves. He stands, joints creaking, and walks over to the cabin. Slowly, meticulously, careful of his shaking hands, he takes off his armour, arranging it neatly, piece by piece, on the floor. The flightsuit is next, folded carefully. He shrugs on his jacket, pulling the hood over his head. Robotically, he opens a random bag, stuffing it full with food and supplies and water pouches. He walks quietly out of the cockpit, moving quickly down the hatch, letting the light of the moon guide him down the packed earth of the planet they’ve rested on. He walks until his feet ache, and until the only thing he can hear is the creaking of the bugs and the heaviness of his own breaths.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

He takes out his comm, scrolling until he finds the right contact.

Five lions, six paladins.

He drafts a message, quick and unquestionable, and then sits on the dry ground, watching as the stars blink in foreign constellations.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

When the pod arrives, autopilot making it’s movement just ever so out of place, he stands, wiping the dirt from his jeans, and boards it. It has been sent with no pilot, with supplies to last a month, and coordinates to the nearest solar system with a fuel stop. Lance sits stiffly in the pilots seat, smoothly and easily maneuvering the pod back up from the ground and straight through the planet’s small atmosphere.

I just don’t want to be stuck for eternity with Lance.

As the planet — as Voltron — shrinks to a speck behind him, his hands finally begin to still.

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