#let the angst begin

[silverstudios]

"Bad end"

So since we're all in the mood for angst it seems- Let me give you that "Bad end" thing that I mentioned the other day. Keeping it vague so that everyone can wild with this idea :) ... While they are breaking out winfrey- someone (Lankman) gets a lucky shot with a pistol. Alex gets shot, but keeps it quiet until they are far away from that hell on earth, and then just has a quiet moment with Clyde. They know they are a dead man walking....might as well be use to their closest friend one last time. Might as well not bleed out to death....at least this should be fast and Maybe painless, right? "Can you eat me?"

#doai sitcom au #hehehehhe #silver rambles #I want to see how you all respond to this prompt #let the angst begin

[wind-and-earth]

The Southern Air Temple

Ever since they had arrived at the Southern Air Temple Haru had felt a growing pit in their stomach. It felt like a chasm almost, opening wider and wider each hour they spent here.

For the most part so far they had kept up appearances for the kids, running around with Ikki and Meelo, reading texts and exploring different rooms with Jinora. But they weren't fine. No amount of learning more about their culture or the burst of pride they occasionally felt seeing the work Aang had accomplished could make it go away. They didn't know if their act had worked on the rest of the adults there but couldn't bring themselves to worry enough if it didn't.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all and they should've just stayed with Korra from the start.

For the millionth time during the trip they found themselves in the statue room and as painful looking at his statue was it brought a strange sense of comfort to Haru.

Footsteps and a sudden presence made them jump slightly, turning to see none other than Tenzin. "Oh, hey Tenzin," they greeted trying for their usual friendly smile and laid back tone.

@airteacher

#muse: haru omi #let the angst begin #runs around excitedly

[pirxtefairy]

closed starter : @plaguedpirate 📍 the home of the antique shop owner

Avoiding the imposing lights of the street lamps, Zarina lurked around shadowed corners; her eyes carefully scrutinizing the neighborhood. She didn't spend her personal time around the more affluent areas of Evermore, but the girl did make a habit of pursuing them for higher-class items to steal.

Tonight was a rare night for the Neverland native. Zarina was on a mission fueled by a spare bit of intel she heard in passing. Allegedly, the owner of the antique shop, Secondhand Treasures, lived on this street. With her particular... occupation, Zarina avoided the antique shop. The fairy knew better than to try and peddle her findings to someone who would be able to tell within an instant that she was lying through her teeth. Selling to them was non-negotiable... but stealing from them was another story. She's been in dire need of a good score lately; and while she's not proud of the work she does for a living, this house could very likely turn her week around.

Zarina knew she found the right home by the decorative, antique pots on the front porch. With her hood protectively slid up over her head, the brunette approached cautiously. Slow, quiet steps were muffled further by the padded grass. The windows were dark, the lights were off and the house was seemingly empty. Zarina always felt more guilt about sneaking into houses, but she only did it during desperate times. With a silent sigh and one last look around, she expertly prowled to the back door before slipping the lock-picking tools from the small bag across her body.

#let the angst begin #apologizing in advance because i tend to overwrite as you can see #no faith no trust just pixie dust *.⊹₊‧ – // threads ⚔️ #ch: james hook

[jac-is-procrastinating-again]

Chapter 10: Shit gets real, peeps.

So much happens... Michael tells Aziraphale a little about the Great War, and what Crowley's name once was. Aziraphale starts wondering just how much of a difference he's really making. And his visit to the Great Library brings some painfully shocking discoveries to light.

TW: bullying, reported violence... Buckle up; this is where it starts to get darker, peeps.

#good omens #ineffable idiots #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #to love the stars too fondly #shit gets real #let the angst begin #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction

[wayfaringstrangxr]

Starter for @inquisitivelydamned

Aziraphale had been so busy with his new duties that he hardly noticed the days passing by. Despite the endless list of things he must do, the arcangel isn't so excited about it, he feels incomplete. Most things would be so much simpler if Crowley were there, they've been through so much together and knew so much about Earth and humanity... Most angels didn't even know the average time of a human life and it was pointless try to explain anything.

Week after week Aziraphale would send a note to Muriel back at his bookshop. The note always had the same two questions: "You haven't sold any books, have you?" and "Did he changed his mind?" and the answer was always the same as well: "No and no."

This was the 34th note Aziraphale was writing and he simply stared at the paper for a long time, wondering what he should write. After several minutes - or perhaps hours - he still has no idea. He seem to be missing something important, but he couldn't remind what it was. So a thought came to his mind; He would visit the bookshop. No one would miss him if he left for a hour or two...

Taking the lift below, Aziraphale opened a big smile to the sight of the bookshop, his heart become warm and his cheek gain color again. Closing to the door, the sign could be read "closed", which made him happier, because then no books would be sold.

The angel entered the bookshop and took a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent of the store. "Hello Muriel!" He says happily. "I thought about popping in and say hello myself." Aziraphale raises his head to stare at a sudden movement and lift his eyebrows at the sight of a man standing across the shop. He had red hair and a funny tattoo of a snake close to his ear, sunglasses covered his eyes and Aziraphale asked himself why he would wear sunglasses inside.

The bookshop was closed, so the angel got curious. "Who are you?"

#Leader of the heavenly hosts | Archangel Aziraphale #inquisitivelydamned #let the angst begin

[shade-pup-cub]

WIP Wednesday!! I'm excited for when I can post this whole.

“Stick to the plan.” Dark went limp in Wild’s arms before his body vanished in a puff of black and purple smoke, showing that the enemy was dead. Horrified, Wild began to shake, still looking down at his hands. “What did you do?” It was the first time in so long that he used his voice without being told to do so. It felt wrong. His head whipped around to Sky. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” “Now Hyrule!” Sky demanded, but it was too late. Wild used his protection, blocking any attack that was going to come from the Traveler. Twilight slowly made his way to Wild, saying, “Cub, please, don’t make us do this. Come back with us.” “No.” “Then you leave me no choice…” Twilight knew how the protection worked. He balled his fist, punching the glass-like sphere with all his might. Three hits cracked it. Six broke it. That left two more rounds of protection. Each time it shattered, Wild looked more and more like the child he still was. Twilight’s heart matched the glass, fragmented and giving way to destruction, but he had to do this. He had to get his Cub back before it was too late. If it wasn’t already too late. Daruk bust forward, flinging Twilight away, letting Wild pounce. Hyrule saw it coming and released the lighting in his hands back at Wild. Wild refused to scream or make any other noise than his panting groans as he tried to resist the magic. The metal armor began to heat and smoke, nearly catching his tunic under it on fire. When Hyrule stopped, falling into Legend’s side, Twilight caught Wild to lower him to the floor. He was dragging in ragged breaths, but he managed to speak.

Twilight wished he wouldn’t have. “I hate you.”

#ao3 writer #wip wednesday #it all starts tomorrow!! #let the angst begin #🔥😈🔥

[bookishfeylin]

Angsty Feylin headcanon, that I chose not to group in with the others because of said angst potential:

Feyre was pregnant Under the Mountain.

#acotar #feylin #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanons #Feylin headcanons #headcanons #let the angst begin #feyre x tamlin #tamlin x feyre

[abunchoflonesomeheroes]

Updates Updates!

@pc-corner (CAMIR) and @caladeniablue have updated their Cohen stories respectively!

Follow CAMIR’s story here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Lonesome_Heroes_Cohen_2023/works/46959472

Follow Caladenia’s story here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Lonesome_Heroes_Cohen_2023/works/46869595

#merrymonthofcohen #star trek fandom event #updates #let the angst begin

[thatsdree]

Some news for my G/t Oneshots!

It was originally called “G/t Oneshots (SFW)” but I am no longer considering my work SFW. I’ve decided that I want to write about darker themes and topics, which could be sensitive to some readers, hence why I changed the name.

If there are any sensitive topics in my oneshots, I will make sure to include a warning at the beginning of the story.

However, there will be no sexual content or fetishes. That’s just not my thing to write (or maybe I could in the future? Who knows…)

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t oneshots #giant tiny #let the angst begin

[mobiues]

‘   i still don’t get it,  you know ...  ’    it’s stifling.   it was never stifling when he was around her before.   or had it been ?   mobius doesn’t remember.   everything seems to blur together since he realised the truth of his entire existence and the timeline spills like he’s never seen before.   he wants to trust her again,  so much.   she was the only friend he thought he had,  and yet —  

‘   why’d you lie to me about C-20,   ravonna ?    ’    why had you gone on to say nothing?

   @rxvonna​    /   back from hiatus sc

#rxvonna #let the angst begin #for all time: in character.

[diortm]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @atvrvxia​ 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬

aveline had been doing one last check of herself in her white dress. she couldn’t pin-point what it was, but there was definitely something bothering her about her image in the mirror. the thought that this might just be something psychological, like cold feet, came across her mind but she kept staring. then suddenly, she saw something move behind her, someone come in and stand in the doorway to her room. “fitz?” it couldn’t be. she quickly spun around, and realised the mirror had not in fact deceived her. “fitz.” she breathed out in disbelief. it took a second, but the reality of the situation soon dawned on her. she was standing in a white dress for god’s sake. “you can’t be here.” she stated with a tone of panic. 

#let the angst begin #aveline de galard ; 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒. #aveline ft. fitz becker ; 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. x

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: an old friend finds you at your lowest point, and you're confronted with ghosts of the past. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.7k chapter warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Grief. Time jumps. Referenced death of family members and romantic partners. Canon typical violence. Blood mention. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: I took a week off to get my shit together. I hope you are still with me :) Also, please pay attention to dates in this chapter.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-March 7, 2022-

You hobble forward through the snow, dragging your right foot behind you for as long as you can until you’re forced to use it to step forward. Every time you have to bear weight on your ankle, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the pain, to convince yourself it’s not that bad. But each time your injured foot comes in contact with the ground, you realize your imagination didn’t do it any justice. Still, you try to keep the noises you make in response down to nothing more than sharp inhales. Despite the fact that the boy trailing a few steps behind you always keeps his eyes cast down, he sees everything, and the last thing you want him to notice is the severity of your injury. 

Both of you have more important things to worry about. 

It’s a forgivingly warm day, and by forgivingly warm, you mean not freezing. Snow still covers the ground, so tightly packed that in some areas you can walk on top of it, but in others you have to forage a path – it’s nearly above your knees. Without the support system of the group you had just been with, there was no way you’d be able to make it in this weather. This was the plan – head South, for warmer weather. But still, you’ve no real destination or purpose, you’re kind of wandering aimlessly through the woods and mountains, with nothing to direct you but a cracked compass. 

Despite the pain you’re in, you find the discomfort a welcome reprieve. If you’re focused on that, you’re not thinking of her. Of what you’d just lost, which would spiral into all the things you had lost, and so on and so forth. If you let yourself go down that path, you wouldn’t be able to come back, despite your future looking more and more uncertain each day. 

The boots that crunch behind you echo your own footsteps, so when they come to a sudden halt, you turn to look at him. He puts a finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?” 

His head tilts towards the wind. It’s hard enough to hear already, between the rushing river to your left, and the whistling of the breeze through the pines to your right. It ruffles his dark hair and you watch him – but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when his eyes are obstructed by a pair of Rayban Wayfarers perched on the bridge of his nose. You’d found them – along with the aviators you wore – on a road full of abandoned cars about three days back. Or was it…four? You’d have to look at your journal. Either way, you’d known they were necessary to avoid snow blindness, especially now that the sun was out. 

After a few moments of listening, he shakes his head. “I thought I heard horses.” 

Whether he did or not doesn’t matter. “We should move back towards the woods,” you advise.

He frowns, but doesn’t argue, and you abandon the easy path in favor of what’s safer, but also much, much, harder terrain to move over. Now, you have to move slower, but the pain is just as bad as before. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before you lose your footing over some gnarled tree roots, and it sends you to the ground. It hurts, and because you weren’t prepared for it, sharp cry you let out can’t be held back. 

“Shit!” 

Within a second, the boy is kneeling at your side, brow furrowed in concern. And you’re reminded, with him hovering over you, that he’s not a boy anymore.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say rapidly, rolling onto your stomach to push yourself up to a seated position. 

“No you’re not,” he crouches down, gesturing to your foot. One of his hands lands on your shoulder, keeping you from trying to rise to your feet.  “You’re clearly not.”

You lift up your pants to tighten the cloth you’ve wrapped around your ankle – a makeshift compression sleeve – even though you know it’s not going to fix the problem. It’s main purpose, really, is to hide the majority of the bruising and swelling. It makes it easier for you both to stay in denial of how bad the situation really is. “I twisted it. It’s fine.”

“It’s fucking broken,” he insists. “You know it is. We can’t keep going like this, we need to rest, and food. You need to ice it and actually let it fucking heal-”

“Ethan,” you hiss. “Just where the fuck are we going to do that?”

Wherever you are is incredibly remote, you hadn’t been able to find a reliable shelter since you first started running away. 

Your nephew frowns again, his head dropping. “You’re right. We’re fucked, aren’t we?” 

“We’re not fucked,” you say, even if you don’t believe it. “We’ve seen worse.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know....this is pretty fucking bad, right?” 

There was something equally tragic about almost every situation you’d been in since the beginning of the outbreak, so it’s honestly hard if you’re actually doomed or not. 

“I mean we survived….that,” you gesture towards the general direction from which you’d come, even if it’s a week’s worth of travel away. 

“Maybe we’re still not out of it.” 

“We are. The worst is over.” Despite your own doubts, you try to remain determined for his sake. 

Ethan only sighs. He doesn’t argue with you, and rarely does. It doesn’t mean he agrees with you. Even after everything you’d been through, he’s sensitive – and incredibly introspective. 

This conversation was getting filed away to bring up later. There’s a lot of things you know he wants to talk about, but he knows now is not the time for those conversations.

“Let’s keep moving,” you decide. “Hopefully we’ll find shelter soon, and when we do, I promise, you can rest.” 

“You can rest,” he corrects.

You hum your affirmation, and he stands. The thick pelt that’s draped over his shoulders shifts when his hand reaches out to help you up. There’s still blood that stains his clothing, and it’s caked under his fingernails. Yours too. It’d be nice to clean yourself off properly, but with the unpredictable temperatures, you’re not interested in diving into the river and risking hypothermia.

The second that you rise to your feet, you can see you are – as Ethan predicted – fucked. 

There’s four, hulking figures cantering towards you on horseback. You turn to look into the woods. “Fuck, we have to-” you fumble for the revolver strapped at your hip, and Ethan lifts his rifle, but it’s too late. Before you can even draw your weapons, or comprehend an escape plan, you’re surrounded. 

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” there’s at least two guns trained directly at you. “Hands up.” After everything that had gone down, you’re out of bullets, so even if it might’ve been a good bluff, a gun would only get you so far. 

You both obey, but Ethan subtly shifts his weight so he stands in front of you. “Hey kid. Step away from mom or we’ll shoot you both.”

The words come from the man on the horse directly in front of you. Probably the leader, if you had to guess, and clad just like his counterparts. They’re all clad in muted tones, handkerchiefs obscuring their mouths and cowboy hats casting shadows over their eyes. There’s a dog seated obediently at one of the horses feet. 

You don’t say anything as Ethan steps away. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both been cornered like this before. And hopefully not the last, you think, before realizing just how grim of a wish that would be. Either way, he knows what to do. Silence is an incredibly effective card to play when you have absolutely nothing to offer. It allows you to bide your time, to strategize, to listen.

Once Ethan is an appropriate distance away, he raises his chin in defiance. “What brings you to the area?” 

“Nothing. We’re passing through,” you answer. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe the only thing you really can use as leverage right now is just how down on your luck you actually are. Unfortunately, you have found that even when you have nothing to give, there are still things that can be taken.

“What’s with all the blood?” another man asks, this one to your left. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“Only the usual kind.”

“Infected?”

“We aren’t sick.” 

“We’ll see…” the third man whistles to the dog at his feet, which trots forward with a low growl to sniff at your shoes. 

Neither you or Ethan have been bit, so you know you’re in the clear, but that doesn’t make things any less hopeless. You exchange a sidelong glance with your nephew as the dog sniffs at you, and you glance to the only cowboy who has been silent the whole time, the one at your right. He clears his throat, adjusts his hat, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes….just for a second. The dog backs away.

“Looks like you aren’t lying,” the cowboy in front of you sounds almost satisfied. “Both of you, take off those glasses.” 

You sigh, glancing over at Ethan. 

“Don’t look at him, just do it.” 

You do, pushing them off the bridge of your nose and up into your matted and tangled hair. Pointedly, you turn to look at the men surrounding you. Revealing your face is always a risk, and you’ve made plenty of enemies who would recognize you. But you’re out of options.

“Where are you headed?”

“South,” you say. “Just trying to get out of the cold.” 

“If think this is cold, then you must have not been in the area long enough.”

Actually, I have, asshole. Is a decade long enough? You keep the commentary to yourself. 

“Any friends nearby we should know about?” 

Your stomach twists. No. But he doesn’t deserve the story. Not when all you want to do is forget every second of the last week. “Can you just tell us what you want from us?”

“Answer the question.”

“Hold on,” the man to your right speaks up for the first time, and you turn to look over at him. “What’s your name?” His voice is muffled by the bandana.

Hesitantly, you give him your first. 

The man pulls his handkerchief down around his neck, pushes the brim of his hat back. Now, you can see him clearly. He looks familiar, but it’s not someone you know from this lifetime. His long, dark hair pokes out from where it’s slicked back behind his ears. He looks far too young to be the first person that comes to mind. But….maybe. 

And then he repeats your name, adds your last himself. How does he know?

You tilt your head to the side, squint against the sun. 

“....Tommy?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Huddled at the far end of a couch, you’re still trying to make sense of the situation when Tommy settles into a chair that he pulls alongside you. 

“Let me take a look at your ankle.” 

“It’s fine, really,” you insist, even though all your efforts to refuse help since you’ve arrived have been futile.

It’s the most normal-looking community you’d seen in a decade. Completely self-sufficient and self-governed – no FEDRA, no Fireflies. Hell, you’d just showered under warm, running water – had watched the blood and dirt and grime swirl about the tiles before disappearing down the drain. And now, despite the temperature having dropped since nightfall, you are perfectly warm in a thin gray sweater, thanks to the central heating and a fire crackling in the fireplace. It seems far too civilized to be real. 

Your eyes flick behind Tommy towards the stairs, and you register the sound of the water running above you. Ethan. For the past few days, he hasn’t left your sight once, such a force of habit that leaving him alone puts you on edge. If something happens, and you’re separated….

“He’ll be fine,” Tommy assures you, almost like he can read your mind. You focus back on him, but don’t have anything to offer in response. He sighs, lowers his voice. “Whatever happened to you, I want you to know that you’re safe. And can trust me. You know that, right?” 

You study Tommy. Of course, you want to trust him. But he is a man, after all. A man you haven’t seen in a long time. You had been betrayed so many times by people you thought you could trust that it was no longer something you could give so easily. The sincerity in his expression, the conviction with which he speaks, however, causes you to soften. “C-Can I?” 

“Of course,” Tommy says. “We knew each other….before.” 

“I know, I know.” You nod, wearily, and take in the room. “Guess it’s just….a bit of a shock.”

“I get it,” he sympathizes. “But I’m here to help. If I wasn’t, all this…” he gestures around the living room of the once-empty house he’s letting you use for the night. “...would be a huge waste of time and resources.”

You offer a small smile, feel some of the apprehension fade, and allow him to examine your ankle. When you’d gotten a glimpse of it in the shower, you really couldn’t deny the severity of the situation. 

“It does look like it could be broken,” Tommy says as he begins to wrap it in a bandage. It’s so sensitive, you can’t even watch, trying not to wince. “Tomorrow, I’ll get the doctor to come by and take a look. But for now, we’ll ice it and keep it elevated. Maria’s coming by later with dinner and some medicine that should help with the discomfort.” 

You nod. To be real, the whole situation seems too surreal. There is something interesting about this situation – that right after one of the most traumatic events of your life, someone you knew from before was there to help. It wasn’t nothing. 

And you’re aware that there are a thousand questions that hang between you. It’s overwhelming, you don’t know what one you want to pick, or if you even want to. So you keep it simple. “Who’s Maria?” 

Tommy maneuvers a pillow under your foot and gingerly rests an ice pack on top. “She only kind of runs the place. And….she’s also my girlfriend.”

“How nice,” you say, earnestly. 

“Yeah….” Tommy smiles to himself. “Yeah, it is nice. I have a life here. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that way.”

His candid nature further helps you relax. If you can trust him, and he feels safe here….maybe you are, too.  

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to ask…” Tommy begins, rubbing his hands together and looking over his shoulder. “But uh….the kid….Ethan…is he….”

You tilt your head.

“Is he….Joel’s?” 

“Oh,“ your eyes widen. You register that a less hardened version of yourself might have laughed at the misunderstanding. But not now. Something twists deep in your gut at the implication. “No, no. No. He’s not mine. He’s my nephew. My brother’s son.”

“Okay,” Tommy looks almost relieved. “Sorry, it's just. He’s so young and you sort of look alike and-”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” you say. Because you can see why he thinks that. You are old enough to be Ethan’s mother, and people constantly assume he’s your son. Most of the time, you don’t bother to correct them. No one needed that information. Ethan was only a child when his parents passed. The two of you were all that remained of your family, and if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be here. -“I get it.”

It’s been awhile since you’ve thought of Joel, of Sarah. It seems cruel, but it’s really just a matter of self-preservation. For some time, right after the outbreak, you had tried to find them. But you weren’t willing to abandon Ethan or Vincent, and there was only so much you could go. You kept losing people, and then started to avoid thinking about them entirely. Those memories became a distraction. You had more important things to focus on. Staying alive. Only when things were quiet would you let yourself indulge. 

“He’s still alive,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence. 

It almost feels selfish to be relieved that Joel’s alive.  Because anyone who remembers what it was like before has survived, against all odds. And it’d be impossible to meet anyone who hasn’t traded over part of their humanity to last this long. 

Despite that, you aren’t surprised. Joel was practical, smart….a protector. You remembered a hot summer night, the way he’d made some guy harassing you and Sarah cower and retreat with all his friends. It would be terrifying to be on the receiving end of that rage. What kinds of things was he capable of? Maybe you’re just projecting. 

“And Sarah?” You think of her, her sweet smile and quick wit. 

Tommy’s head drops, he shakes his head once. 

“No….really?” It’s such a stupid question to ask. As if he’d make such a terrible joke. 

At first, you’re overwhelmed by the anger you feel. It grips you tight around your throat and you struggle to breath as Tommy continues. 

“It was the night everything went down. The military had these orders to kill all civilians….we all got split up. Sarah and Joel were cornered by this soldier. I shot him but…. I got there too late…she, uh….yeah….” 

The anger dissipates quickly. Because you know all too well that it’s not useful. You’re completely powerless, it won’t fix anything. So all that momentum and energy comes screeching to a halt. You’re left thinking of Joel, of what that loss must have felt like. What you’re feeling now probably isn’t a fraction of what he felt. And you feel terrible. 

“No,” you choke out, the frustration fizzling into grief. “She was so-”

All that time you’d spent with her, all those years ago, yet you still can see her so vividly. 

Something you’ve always longed for is the ability to know, the second you meet someone new, just how much they are going to change your life. You think of Sarah, standing timidly at the end of your driveway, asking to use your landline. That was it. Then, she was always over at your place – eating your snacks, sprawled out on your couch watching television, asking for life advice as if you were qualified to give it. In the end, you’d probably learned more from her than what you had to offer. It wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to Joel. Not to Tommy. Or you. 

“I know, it’s-” Tommy starts, but he doesn’t finish. You understand. What is he supposed to say?

You’ve been a fortress, held together by nothing but sticks and plaster, and this is the blow that takes you down. It’s not just Sarah, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for the past week. That you’d hidden from Ethan because you didn’t want him to worry. But you can only take so much loss, pitching forward to sob into your palms.

You don’t cry like you used to. The tears come, but you don’t make any noise, save for the shaky, staggered inhales your body forces you to take to self-regulate. There’s a hand on your shoulder, and a weight settles next to you on the couch. “I’m s-sorry,” you manage through a faltering breath.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but he wraps his arms around you. Something in the back of your brain reminds you that this could be a part of some long con. But you’re sick of listening to that voice. You lean into him, and accept the little bit of comfort, because you can’t remember the last time it’s been offered to you. So much time spent being strong, but you’re only human, and no one is built to endure this much without breaking. 

“Where is he?” you ask Tommy, once you’ve finally managed to pull yourself together, his hand still between your shoulder blades. “Is he here?” 

“Last time I saw him, we were livin’ in the Boston QZ.” Tommy shakes his head. “But it’s….been awhile since we’ve spoken.” 

They had always seemed close, but you don’t press, because you get the impression it’s painful to talk about. You wonder what kind of man Joel must have become after losing Sarah. What else would he have to fight for? You know how loss has changed you, too. How all of this has changed you. For better, and for worse. 

“I bet he would be glad to know you’re still here,” says Tommy, patting your back.

“Sure,” you say. “But it’s been a long time.”

“It has been. But you took good care of him and Sarah,” Tommy says. “So there’s a place for you here. If you want to stay, the house is yours.” 

“Tommy, I can’t-” You aren’t really sure why you are refusing. It’s all so much. And it doesn’t even make sense to do it, because where had you been planning to go to begin with? You’re just stubborn. You know if you stop moving, everything will catch up to you. 

“You don’t have to decide tonight. But at least wait until you’re back on your feet.”

“Is that…a joke?” you glance towards your ankle, relieved to find some remaining proof of your sense of humor, something you’re pretty sure you can’t go on without. 

Tommy seems to share this relief, smiling gently. “It wasn’t intentional.” 

There’s a lull, then: “Maria was a lawyer, too. She could use your help on the council.”

You sniff, wipe at a stray tear that falls at the mention of your old life, the job that you were constantly complaining about. Everything had been perfect, and you had taken it for granted. “I don’t know how much of that stuff I even remember.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re family,” Tommy speaks definitively. “Maybe not technically. But eventually…you would’ve been.” That makes you ache, and he goes on. “It’s the least I can do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 10, 2024-

The wind rustles the leaves of the trees, through the windchimes that hang off your back porch. The sun is on the horizon, you can tell because there’s a red glow behind your eyelids. Huffing, you fold your body forward over your feet, pulling yourself towards the floor by the backs of your ankles, before stepping back into a lunge. 

The sound of a door sliding up interrupts the quiet, then two plates hit a glass tabletop. 

“Breakfast.” 

You open your eyes. Ethan’s head is tilted as he glances over at you. “I can’t believe you still do this shit everyday.” 

“Old habits die hard.” You push yourself up off the tattered blanket you’ve been using as a yoga mat and roll it up. “Gotta stay limber.” 

It’s the truth. You’re in your forties now, and have spent the last twenty years under constant physical and mental stress. If there’s anything you can do to reverse the damage and be a little kinder to your body, you’re going to do it.

You put your hands on your hips and look at the omelets he’s prepared. “Wow,” you say. “You know, you’re becoming quite the chef.”

“One of us has to.”

You ignore his dig to take a sip of the tea he’s prepared you. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Patrol. I have to leave in like 20 minutes. Are you going out today?”

“Tomorrow,” you correct, sitting in the chair across from him. “But today I have to meet with Eugene, and then I told Maria I’d look after the baby while she gets some work done.” 

“Makes sense. Tommy told me they’re hardly sleeping. How is she?” 

“She’s doing good. But…there used to be this saying…It takes a village.” 

Ethan considers this. “I still don’t know how you and dad looked after me all those years.” 

“You were five years old, not five weeks. At least you could walk.” 

“That’s still young. It must’ve been hard.”

“It was but….” you shrug. “We made it.”

Ethan looks into the backyard, like he’s contemplating the past two years you’d spent in this house. “You think this is it?” 

After Tommy had brought you to Jackson, you’d never left. Will it last? Is really what he’s asking. It’s easy to feel jaded. The last place you’d been before Jackson had housed you for almost a decade. It hadn’t been nearly as nice as this, but it had its appeal. Today, you feel hopeful. “It’d be nice if it was.” 

Ethan seems comforted by your answer. “I don’t remember much…from those days. Back at the beginning of everything.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” you say. There are so many things from that time you’d erase from memory if given the chance. Some things never felt less jarring, even with time. 

Ethan looks down at his food. “I miss them. I wish I got to know them better.”

You think of your brother, of Elizabeth. His parents. “You knew them,” you assure him. “And they loved you.” 

Ethan studies the divots in the glass of the patio table. He’d grown up to be a spitting image of his dad. In fact, if Vincent were still alive, you would’ve found a way to give him shit about it. I knew you were self-absorbed, but don’t you think cloning yourself is a little extreme? But he’s not here, so you whisper those sorts of things when no one else can hear you, and hope that somehow he can. 

He finishes his last bite of food and stands, towering over you, tall and lanky. When he reaches to collect his plate, you stop him. “I’ll get it. Don’t want you running late.”

“Thanks,” he leans down and gives you a quick hug. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is about to set when he returns. You’re back from Maria’s, mellowing out on the couch with your knitting while listening to an old comedy album you’d found the last time you were on patrol. 

“Hey,” you crane your neck to see him kicking off his boots in the foyer. Taking your shoes off when you walk in a house was a habit that had taken some getting used to. Before Jackson, you’d been so used to sleeping in your clothing, your shoes, knife and gun curled by your side, ready to grab at a moment's notice. The first week you’d lived here, you and Ethan had slept on the couches in the living room and refused to separate. 

In general, there were a lot of things that had taken some getting used to while you were settling in. But humans have a natural instinct to put down roots. It was only a matter of time before you’d start to thaw out. And boy did you thaw. 

For a long time, you were resistant to staying. At first, it was just for the night, then, it was until your foot got better. Your foot got better, and then you wanted to put on some weight. Then one day, you were sitting in the Tipsy Bison, sandwiched in a booth listening to Tommy brazenly flirt with Maria while watching Ethan joke with the kid his age working at the bar. It had been three months, and you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

Twenty years of running, of not knowing when your next meal was coming from, or what could be lurking around every corner. It was a different kind of exhaustion, and the second that you felt safe, it all caught up to you. All you did for the first two months was sleep. 

You woke only when Maria dropped by. Like Tommy had said, Maria had been a lawyer before. A prosecutor, however, so the work was different. You’d had a good laugh over the fact that you were raised by a ruthless criminal defense attorney with questionable clientele, because that was her worst nightmare. She was always enthusiastically telling you about things happening amongst the town council, and would even ask for your expertise. When you were done sleeping off the exhaustion, she’d extended you an offer to work for the town council. 

Not leaving your house for weeks you assumed would earn you the reputation of the town recluse. But when you started to participate in community affairs, no one gave you any grief. That was probably thanks to Ethan, who from the beginning, fit right in. He was desperate for a social life outside of you, and more importantly, with kids his actual age. 

Between helping Maria on the council, and Eugene with his….business…you didn’t go out on patrol too often. But you were glad you and Ethan had managed to find some sort of normalcy in Jackson. Even though you’d never admit this to him, the last group you’d lived in had some…..questionable traditions. 

“Did Tommy come by already?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the living room and practically throws himself down on the couch. 

“No,” you say. “Was he supposed to?” 

“He said he was coming over tonight because he has a surprise for you or something?”

“A surprise?” you ask. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan says, sounding slightly annoyed by your questions. Sometimes, you still get glimpses of the fifteen-year-old boy he once was. He had always been well-behaved, but those sorts of things slipped through on occasion. 

“Hmmm,” you return to your knitting, but don’t think much of it. It’s not like Tommy coming over is out of the ordinary. If it wasn’t him walking through your front door, it was Maria, and you and Ethan were over at theirs several times a week as well – whether it was for dinner or to help out with their new baby. 

You think about what Tommy had told you when he first encouraged you to stay. He’d called you family. At the time, you didn’t think that was true. But now, it was. Maybe you weren’t bonded together by blood, but you’d grown to care for each other as if you were. Opening your heart used to feel impossible, painful even….but all the people who had helped you at your lowest had proven otherwise. Shutting them out only made things worse. After everything you’d been through, all you had left were the people you cared about. What else was there? It was stupid to do anything else but love. 

There’s a knock on your screen door, and Ethan is the first to practically jump off the sofa. You don’t get up right away, figuring that Tommy will stroll in shortly. 

Instead, you hear more voices than you were expecting, the screen door closing behind Ethan, his muffled “Nice to meet you.” 

The sun is setting, and the last thing you want to do is go and meet someone who's new to the community to make small talk. But then you hear Ethan call for you. You need to be a good member of the community and keep up appearances. Begrudgingly, you lift yourself out of the sofa and walk down the hallway to your front door. 

You slide into your sneakers, pull on your pair of aviators to protect from the intense light of the sun on the horizon, stepping onto the patio. 

“What’s up?” you ask, stepping out onto the patio next to Ethan, and Tommy is to your right, though you are hardly aware of him as you focus immediately on the man standing in front of you.

You recognize him instantly. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter that his hair is more gray now than it is brown. It doesn’t matter or that the lines on his face are deeper, and his shoulders slump under an invisible weight. There’s a scar on his temple that hadn’t been there before, and his eyes, once warm and sparkling, seem impossibly cool and distant. He’s hardened by the world, and so are you.

“Joel?” 

It’s a stupid to pretend like you don’t know that it’s him. Like you need the confirmation. And you lower your sunglasses, just in case you’re seeing something you want to see, and not what’s actually in front of you. 

When you meet his eyes, his jaw clenches, and something unrecognizable flashes in his eyes.

“How are-” you step forward, and you’re not sure why. 

What were you expecting, a hug? A kiss? Some grand reunion, like you hadn’t lived separate lives for two decades, like you hadn’t loved someone else in the meantime. He probably had, too. So it’s not like you’d be able to pick up where you left off and forget all the things that happened. It wouldn’t be possible, but you have an instinctual urge to wrap him in your arms, to press your face into his chest as you did so many times before. You’d tilt your head back to kiss his neck, his jaw, and to feel his stubble scratch your face – you’d do it anyway, because you don’t care if it hurts you. 

Joel steps backwards just as you move closer. There’s a young girl hovering behind him, the same way that Sarah used to. But it’s hard to see much of her from where you are standing. His eyes flicker between you and Ethan, and then he turns on his heel and walks down the pathway without a word.

“Ellie!” he calls out, and doesn’t even so much as glance over his shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and his voice gruffer, a bite to it that didn’t exist before.

You don’t call out after him, don’t trail after him down the street like the girl or Tommy does. But you do stare after him until he turns the corner and disappears from view. The only evidence he’d been standing in front of you at all is the pounding of your heart and a sick feeling in your stomach.

-

-

-

#let the angst begin....or at least....continue #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us writing #tlou #tlou writing #pedro pascal #troy baker #tommy miller #pre-outbreak! joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #ellie williams

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ GOJO SATORU ; — i hate how you make feel while simultaneously being so incredibly unfeeling

࿄ ! warnings - afab!reader, angst, lowkey reader is a meanie but she has reasons, okay! no other warnings :}

love is fruitless with gojo satoru.

he’s attractive enough - shiny grey-blue eyes, tall, tan: the whole shebang and it’s no wonder that girls fall at his feet for a single chance to bed the man. and, in a twist of fate: when a lucky girl gets to have gojo in her room, she’s met with the night of her life before he slips into the night, inconsequential and cold to the world - as if he hadn’t ran his hands on her naked body.

that being said, once you get to know him, you come to realise it is virtually impossible to be around gojo without wanting to pull your hair out. you once told him that you couldn’t be around him without feeling the urge to pull out handfuls of your hair. he laughed at that; bandage crinkling across his eyes and rows of bright teeth blaring haughtily at you.

even at moments that would require some warmth and thought-provoking soul searching, he’d look at you with the same expression he always gives - one of faux joyousness and a chastising turn of his lips poking fun at you because you felt something that happened to be the antithesis to what he’s feeling… if gojo could actually feel anything at all - given how he presents himself. how could you ever enjoy the presence of someone like that?

“what do you think of gojo, y/n-san?” asks utahime across the chabudai and you snicker, the sourness noticeable even in the tone of your laughter - if you could even call it that - ‘laughing.’

“arrogant. egotistical. one track minded. sometimes i want to wring my hands around his neck to get him to be quiet but-” (utahime giggles slightly at your words and you beam a little - only a little).

“it’s not fair to speak about someone when they’re not here to defend themselves,” interjects a voice and you can practically hear the pout in his tone.

“who said i was being fair?” you hum, a sip of ginger and lemon tea running past your lips and it does little to satiate the rumble in your gut and the rise of acrid bile in your throat. damn you, acid reflux.

“well, if we’re being unfair to each other, i think utahime should ask me what i think about you,” says gojo pointedly and he sits cross legged at the low table - raising what seems to be a brow under his many layers of bandages.

“for your information, we were not playing a game-”

“no, you can go on and ask him, utahime. i’m a big girl. i can take it.” you narrow your eyes at the white haired man when you say that and it’s somewhat laughable that even though he’s sat down, at your level, gojo is ridiculously too statuesque to look right at you - prompting what you can feel is a fiery blush erupt on your cheeks when he leans down. you want to kill him so badly. just who does he think he is?

“um… o-ok, if that’s alright with you then… what do you think of y/n, gojo?”

a beat passes and you hold down a swallow, a gulp, at the silence that ruminates the staff room. gojo looks away, as if in deep thought and you roll your eyes at the over the top act.

the man leans down again, elbows on the chabudai, “i think y/n is afraid. constantly running from anything that invokes even the slightest bit of fear and feeling in her bones,” and utahime chokes in disbelief, shaking the palpable heavy tension in the room.

“i don’t think i’ve ever met a jujutsu sorcerer with traits as undesirable as those- i mean, have you, utahime? talk about a red herring.”

another beat passes and you haven’t said a word; if the furrowing of your eyebrows and embittered scowl on your lips was anything short of an answer, though, then gojo had definitely hit a nerve.

unfortunately for utahime, if gojo goes low, you simply go lower.

“huh. maybe you think you’re right about me, gojo…” and he smirks, victorious in this little dance that you’re both caught up in - with utahime caught in the superfluous torrent of it all and you let a moment pass, you let gojo believe he’s won before you continue, “but it actually couldn’t be further from the truth. at least i’m deliberate about what i let others perceive about me. you want to know what i really think of gojo satoru? i think ‘how can someone as powerful and omnipotent as you be so unimaginative… so boring and so miserably orchestrated?’”

you look down at your hands, playing with the rings on your fingers and wanting to avoid the looks of the other two heads in the room, shaking in belligerent disgust and just second hand audacity.

“above all, though… gojo satoru is all too obvious yet not at the same time. it becomes neither cool or interesting when you pretend to be some suave and sexy man who strolls through life. no one knows gojo better than he knows himself and he knows that every night, when the capes and the glasses and the- the fucking bandages come off, all what stares back at him is what he attempts to hide and that’s when he really starts to feel. in the four walls of his empty room with empty eyes staring back.”

you finally look back up to see a pair of disbelieving eyes staring back at you and you can feel another boring into your soul. the bile sits at the back of your throat again and a pang knocks at the edge of your heart.

“i may be scared but you’re terrified and you go about your life like you’re not constantly thinking - worrying. if my problem is that i don’t let myself feel enough then, gojo, yours is that you pretend to feel and act superior to us normal people because you’re a fraud.”

you’re panting - breathless - by the end of it and your eyes widen, burning and brimming at the implication of what you’ve just said. your hands are clammy and the burning - the sourness starts to grow all over again. you can’t bear to look at gojo for even a second before stumbling from under the seat and storming out of the room.

consequently, that evening after the whole debacle, with gojo sporting a frown that didn’t curl up once even in the company of his students, does gojo let himself feel something. and it feels pretty damn good.

he just wishes that it hadn’t come from you of all people.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

#sorry miwa clocked your tea at the beginning #this is a huge hc of mine #gojo doesn’t let himself process things and #it makes me sad :( i do adore him #dw there has to be a part 2 he’s not going out sad like this #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojou x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you #✎𓂃stamped: (jujutsu kaisen)。°˖⌕ #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen #angst #jjk x reader

[agnisleftpec]

in light of lie detector tests irl being mostly bullshit, especially so for people with anxiety, combined with fandom shoving all their mental disorders onto their faves cuz projection is fun, i propose a much more chaotic take on zuko joining the gaang wherein toph can NOT get a fuckin read on this guy and kind of wants him to just sit down and breathe for a second thanks, your heartrate is giving her a headache

#as with most of my ideas #time for jokes #the gaang ends up at a standstill cuz they really DO need a firebending teacher #but they cant fuckin tell if zuko is lying #at first they assume he's just like azula #but then toph's genuine concern for his heart health shuts that down #and so they begin opperation calm zuko the fuck down #which does not work at all #cuz the gaang suddenly switching from 'mm dont trust you' to 'hey lets do a spa day' is concerning to say the least #and then joke prompts aside #the angst potential if toph ever misinterprets anxiety as a lie #especially in the early days of zuko joining the gaang #things could go wrong pretty fast #is hyper anxious zuko pretty ooc? yeah #do i care? no #two versions of any character in my head #one is classic best efoort interpretation of canon #other is a free for all of headcanons and projection #both are valid and both are constantly pinging around in my head #you dont get to choose how i play with my dolls asgjfhdh #atla #zuko #toph #book three #insp

[mlem2460]

EAHF:

switched at birth au & y it ADDS to the story instead of taking away fr it

1) i get y people dont like the 'apple & raven being switched at birth' reveal undermining their whole stances on the storybook & their destinies cause that WOULD BE redundant & a terrible execution HOWEVER

2) think of the ✨possibilities✨

3) of the absolute ABUNDANCE OF ARCS available to all after the reveal

raven's frustration at everyone FINALLY believing she can be good, but only because they are ONCE AGAIN reducing her to her BIOLOGY rather than her actual character n struggling the keep her stance for choice over destiny & running the risk of rejecting the acceptance that she's been chasing being within her reach for all the wrong reasons, (extra spice for having to face resentment from some rebels for her new storybook happy ever after & no longer being encouraged to have outbursts but expected to have the emotional intelligence of a white after being partially raised by the most deranged queen in history)

apple being left by so many royals (not all tho, be fr) for being 'evil' & not knowing if she should be upset cause yes: they're supposed to friends, but no: they are following their destinies as they should, but yes: if she's supposed to be evil now resentment is good-but in an evil way? cue a jekle&hyde level of seconded guessing & doubt because she was raised to be good & she has strived to be kind everyday of her life but now she has to be evil to follow her destiny & oh this feels horrible, should she apologize to raven for the pressure she placed on her?, but no she's evil now and she shouldn't apologize for anything ever, but she feels horrible, but if she's evil is she supposed to feel horrible?, or should it feel good to do bad?, what does she do??

royals having to decide if they're more committed to being good friends or following their destinies

rebels having to decide if they want their leader to sign for a happy ending most of them dont get, resent her for that same ending, or pressure her into staying a rebel the same way the were pressured to follow their destinies

dexter panicking cause yeah! raven is amazing & everyone should see it, but oh gosh pls dont let daring be her prince that would be too much, but he wasnt supposed to be prince charming either?!?

briar struggling to support her friend (cause obv she not abandoning apple) but not knowing how to help apple in her struggle to try to stick to being a royal as the new evil queen when she herself is a rebel

maddie being 10 toes down for her bestie since day one & accidentally wreaking havoc on royals who cant actually be mad cause that's the mad hatters daughter & trying to make her conform would encourage rebel ideals of going against ones destiny but HOW IS THE TEA ROOM UPSIDE DOWN & THE GOWNS OH FOR THE LOVE O-

royals, sidekicks, henchmen, villagers, etc all across the kingdom now having concerns about children whos traits dont line up with their parents or whatever else

i personally hope grimm has an aneurism

it's easy to say the evil queen switched them for sh*ts n giggles & thats fun for its own reasons BUT what about the infinite possibilities of other culprits??? snow white sees her daughter has dark magic? switched. whoever ravins dad is tryna get back at the evil queen? switched. random bumbling henchman/sidekick doing a lil whoopsie? switched. concerned citizen tries to keep innocent child fr the evil queen & the delirious post-labour evil queen tries to take back her child? switched. jealous ex-lover or bitter sidelined sibling/relative? switched. magic? switched. hotel? trivago switched.

A N D every characters stance, feelings, etc are changed depending on how & y the switch even happened in the first place

In Conclusion:

don't let this au flop because of poor execution

#eah #ever after high #raven queen #apple white #briar rose #maddie hatter #dexter charming #all the characters #let the shipping wars begin #heck actually kingdoms could go to war if u want #au #switched at birth #whoop #the ✨possibilities✨ #could be anything really #angst #fluff #crack #wth have it all #muahahahhaha #😘

[lhrryonce]

No remedy for broken hearts

pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

rating: M

WIP: 4/?

summary:

When Draco and Astoria can’t find a cure for Astoria’s mysterious illness, in a last-ditch attempt to save her life, they consult with Healer Granger.

It'll be too little, too late.

-

“What time am I meeting you at St. Mungo's later?” he asked, not lifting his eyes from his plate.

“I am meeting with Healer Granger at 4 pm. You don’t have to come. I can ask Daphne or Mother to escort me.”

“I have cleared my schedule,” Draco replied drily. How could she assume he had anything more important to do than accompany her? He tried to mask his annoyance. “I want to see what this all entails. I'm not convinced, still.”

“Well, you don’t have to be,” she replied, “I have made my decision. If this is the best option I have right now, I am not going to waste it." She was looking at him now, almost challengingly.

“Roscher said you might get worse in the beginning.”

“I am aware of what he said, I was paying attention.” Unlike you. She didn’t have to say that part.

“I was paying attention.”

“You were occluding,” she snapped.

{read on ao3}

#current wip #dramione #dramione fanfic #my fic #mine #draco x hermione #hermione granger/draco malfoy #dramione ao3 #dhr #dhr fanfiction #let the angst fest begin