#maybe this...will help my angst writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wikiangela · 7 months

Text

fuck it friday

tagged by @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck 💖💖

finally back with alive shannon! still not done with the conversation I'm stuck at, but just left it for now and gonna circle back later (and I can't even begin to tell you how much it bothers me that i'm not writing in order now omg) but small progress is happening so yaay! haha here's something from ch3 - buck's pov - it's a longer snippet that I literally just wrote so it's rough but it's something at least haha

prev snippet

___

“Buck!” Christopher exclaims, noticing him first, and he hears rapid footsteps and crutches hitting the floor.

“Hey- shoes!” Eddie sighs heavily, and Buck just knows he’s shaking his head.

“Hey, bud.” Buck smiles, finally turning away from the TV, giving Chris a hug. “How was school?”

“Okay.” he shrugs. “Hi, mom.” Chris adds, turning towards Shannon to give her a hug as well. “How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, concern in his voice, and Buck’s heart melts. From the look on Shannon’s face, so does hers.

“Better.” she smiles, running her hand through his curls with the softest expression on her face, just full of pure love. Buck’s so happy they get to have this, both Christopher and Shannon, that they get this time together they so obviously needed and missed. “Buck’s been keeping me company while waiting for you.” she adds, grinning at Buck.

“What are you guys watching?” Eddie comes closer and sits in the chair, gesturing for Christopher to come over to him, and then helps him out of his shoes. He’s glancing at the TV, probably trying to guess if he knows the show.

“It’s just this telenovela your abuela was obsessed with a couple years ago.” Shannon shrugs, lowering the volume. They’ll have to rewind and see everything they’ve missed. Or maybe look it up and start from the beginning. Buck’s invested already, and she’s fun to watch with, and maybe if they bond over that, things will feel less awkward. “There’s reruns.”

“You’re watching telenovelas?” Eddie looks up at Buck, then at Shannon, and back at Buck, frowning. “Without me?” he pouts, sounding half-teasing. He keeps looking between them, almost nervously. Is he worried that they won’t get along or something? Ridiculous. Buck can get along with anyone if he wants to – well, almost – and he’s gonna try here, for sure – it’s Chris’ mom, he has to.

“Sorry.” Buck chuckles, leaning back against the couch. Eddie finishes helping Chris and stands up again, while the boy takes a seat between Shannon and Buck, grinning from ear to ear. He scoots closer to Shannon, carefully cuddling into her side, her arm coming up around him. “You wanna watch with us?”

“Uh, I’d love to, but dinner won’t make itself.” Eddie moves to go towards the kitchen, but then stops and hesitates. “Uh, Buck-”

“Ugh, you’re gonna cook?” Christopher wrinkles his nose. “Can’t we order something again?”

“My cooking isn't that bad.” Eddie says, mock-offended, crossing his arms. “Right?” he looks at Buck, and then Shannon. Buck winces and takes in a sharp breath, while Shan wrinkles her nose – and Buck sees such resemblance between her and Chris in that moment – but neither says anything. “Unbelievable.” Eddie shakes his head, and Buck and Shannon look at each other over Christopher’s head and crack up. They might be on the same wavelength, that’s good. Teasing Eddie is another common ground, it seems like. “We had take out last night, and the night before, and before that all the food people brought over after-” he pauses, swallowing hard, still not able to talk about the accident, about almost losing her. He told Buck about his abuela and tía, and Bobby, and even Hen and Karen, and some other people from the station bringing some food so he doesn’t have to bother cooking while taking care of Shannon. “Well, what’s left is in the freezer, and I wanted to do something nice and cook, but maybe I’ll just defrost something.” he sighs, defeated, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “That okay, boss?” he adds, emphasizing the last word and looking at his son with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” Christopher nods, then bursts into giggles.

“Fine.” Eddie turns and starts walking towards the kitchen. “Buck, you coming with me?”

“You need help defrosting? Wow, you are helpless.” he says, winking at Chris, who just laughs again, but then gets up anyway, following Eddie – who’s at the kitchen door already, and flips him off.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gayarthur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @eowon @theotherbuckley @weewootruck @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @callaplums @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @underwater-ninja-13

#fuck it friday #the alive shannon fic #shannon diaz #buddie wip #buddie fic #wikiangela writes #my writing #angst #fic snippet #my wips #didn't write much today tbh and need to go to sleep soon bc i work tomorrow #but just scribbled this so decided to share - maybe it'll help inspire and motivate me lol #(also side note bc im excited - didn't write today but almost finished a crochet teddy bear and it's turning out so cute!! haha)#(lowkey buck getting into crocheting fic when lol - omg did I just have a new idea 🤦😩 lol)#anyway why do i always ramble in those tags lmao

63 notes · View notes

lewkwoodnco · 1 month

Text

also not all of these would have happy endings for obvious reasons 🫠

#I keep feeling like my angst writing is so tired sjskxksm maybe this album will help #personal #my polls #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #george karim x you #george karim x reader #ttpd #the tortured poets department #taylor swift

21 notes · View notes

tsukihimeyfan · 10 months

Text

Just finished watching Wendigoon's video about Hisashi Ouchi and had a terrible, awful, no-good DP prompt idea come into my head. Come suffer with me.

So the Fentons constantly threaten to tear ghosts apart "molecule by molecule" right? What if they managed to make an anti-ghost weapon that made good on that threat? One that tore apart ghostly DNA or ectoplasm, and just straight-up turned any ghost hit by it into green goop, melted within seconds like Danny's clones?

So I imagine that at some point after destroying a couple of ghosts with this new weapon, Jack and Maddie finally manage to corner Phantom somehow. Terrified, Danny is left with no choice but to try to explain who and what he is, hoping to all the Ancients that it will be enough to stop them from hurting him.

Unfortunately for him, the Fentons don't really listen at first and shoot him point blank.

Danny puts his arms up to protect himself and closes his eyes, trembling in abject fear, imagining himself melting away into a pile of goop right in front of his parents. He desperately hopes it's quick and painless. He waits for the end.

...and waits

... and waits

The Fentons and Danny both feel shocked, but Danny eventually laughs (a bit hysterically) and continues explaining his accident, intensely relieved that his half-human nature had protected him from this weapon.

Once he explains everything, the Fentons apologize with tears in their eyes for how they had treated him. They accept him for who he is, and promise to do their best to learn more about ghosts' true natures. They decide to use their inventions in an actually scientific, ethical way, to learn more about this culture and people. Danny and Jazz are both ecstatic. Everything seems perfect. Sure, Danny might have thrown up and passed out the minute they got home from that little talk, and sure, his skin turned a bit red and painful where he got hit, but that was the extent of it, right? His human half purged the effects of the weapon from his body, no harm no foul.

But they all forget that while Danny's DNA is half human, it is also half ghostly in nature, and the weapon just tore through those parts of him like bullets through paper.

A week later, Danny's skin starts to feel like it's burning

#danny phantom #dp prompt #prompt #basically the Fentons accidentally give Danny extreme radiation poisoning and have to deal with the consequences #maybe Vlad could get a redemption arc in this #finally realizing that Maddie is not as perfect as he imagined her to be #and using everything in his considerable power to help save his Little Badger #could also be #DPxDC #dp x dc #if they end up reaching out to the justice league for their resources and expertise on non-human biology and radiation exposure #and of course every single one of them would end up loving Danny and wanting to take him away from these people who hurt him so bad #or at least help him recover and watch over him after #they wouldn't be fans of the Fentons to say the least #if anyone writes anything on this you can take it anywhere you like #but I'm personally a sucker for Angst with a Happy Ending #so in my imagination Danny manages to make it through the almost 3 months of suffering and eventually recovers #with a ton of new friends (and maybe a lover) for his troubles #but he'd never be the same #and I don't think he'd ever look at Jack and Maddie the same either #don't look up pictures of Hisashi Ouchi btw #only made that mistake once #danny fenton #btw for those who don't know but don't want to watch a 90min video about it #Hishashi Ouchi was a poor man who was exposed to so much radiation that his chromosomes were torn to shreds #**READ THE FOLLOWING SENTENCES AT YOUR DISCRETION CW IT'S NOT PRETTY IF YOU DON'T LIKE THINKING ABOUT NASTY STUFF/BODY HORROR DON'T READ #then his skin started to slough off #then the lining of his lungs. then the one on his intestines. then on almost every one of his organs #He lived for 83 days bc the best doctors in the world were trying to save him #but Yes it was probably as excruciating as it sounds especially bc his mind was intact for most of it

92 notes · View notes

mid-nightowl · 6 months

Note

paramedic/EMT dick is so good omg :o i hadn’t thought about that one

i have seen social worker dick which also felt really appropriate (also love that for jason) but!!! EMT actually feels like it works better to me???

thank u for putting that thought in my head~

ahhhhhhh!! i am so ecstatic i could put the thought of emt/paramedic!dick in your head hehehehe

paramedic!dick is so special to me<3 it very much i think hits what dick needs and wants out of his civilian life but also directly influences his vigilantism too

my main three takeaways are these:

it's a highly rewarding but deeply traumatizing career and it scratches his innate need to help people without violence & fear

it's a little bit more training than a police officer but i think covers a field of knowledge dick knows but doesn't know intimately like he does criminal justice or law. it would also benefit his "night" job to be more equipped to handle traumatic injuries

ems schedules are chaotic and all over the place especially if the garage is down a paramedic or ALS provider or just overall understaffed but the overall structure of it would be good for dick (if he can balance his work-vigilantism life healthily, depending on how you write him)

#asks #ladytauria #i got halfway through an essay and decided not to infodump on you askfgsjkgbsjgb #but yeah ems is one of my niches i feel i know too much about but i am just very passionate about it #but i also truly believe it would be a better profession for dick than police officer (blegh)#like there's just so much potential in this career for him #the community aspect; the balance of heroism and trauma which parallels his trajectory as Nightwing; the balance of work and home life #(which can flip between healthy or unhealthy)#the training and the role of ems in society esp in regards to the trifecta of first responders #you can easily deal with the same things dick did as a police officer but as an ems provider and it would be better ethically and morally #also the idea of him being able to help others without violence and fear is such an interesting thread to pull on like omg????#and then just the angst potential bc the job is just as traumatizing and frustrating as vigilantism; the cycle of burnout and exhaustion #(which can also be a downside writing-wise like he's already traumatized enough by being Nightwing maybe his day job shouldn't be)#i could talk all day about the potential akfgnkasjg apologies for the ranting-gushing lol #dick grayson #paramedic!dick grayson

41 notes · View notes

mayxo-hxh · 20 days

Text

Hisoka the man that would get his limbs decapitated with a straight face but would fall to his knees when the menstrual cramps hit him.

Illumi sees him lose a leg and laugh about it but the moment a single cramp hits he finds him on the floor in the dead family guy meme pose. Hiso on his period is so grumpy about life Illu gotta take care of him and give him a lot of love.........

#just currently writing this fic abt how hisoka dealt with his first period around illumi after they got married. and im thinking thoughts.#it was literally supposed to be a funny fluffy hurt comfort angst maybe even with smut and suddenly it turned angsty :(#help #changing one detail about the fic changed the entire vibe man.#hisoka is just not used to being loved.... illumi go give ur man a kiss #hisoillu #hisoka x illumi #hxh #hunter x hunter #hisoka #hisoka morow #illumi #illumi zoldyck #my post #my hcs #trans hisoka

15 notes · View notes

boyywithluv · 24 days

Text

#having a creative rut feeling #gonna rant #im basically a giant baby and i don't handle angst very well #and i constantly worry that im just. idk mentally weak or a deeply uninteresting person bc of it.#every big fantasy artist i see is usually very into making sad or angsty pieces and like i wish i was like that #like i fall into this mental hole very very often that im just holding myself back with how many subjects i dont write or draw #but also like when i DO write dark subjects it doesn't make me feel any better??#i dont like feeling sad or angry bc once i am its extremely hard to get back out of it.#and thats scary for me.#but also i want to make art that means something instead of my nonestop slew of smut and feelgood content.#i genuinely feel so trapped by my own emotions and its sp frustrating.#i keep getting told how good for you it is to get the negative feelings out but it never helps when i do it #i just feel. worse? i dont feel good.#i kinda wanna delete the one cloud post bc it just doesn't feel good.#ugh #idk i want to have good intelligent things to say and thoughtful art to make #and everything i make feels soft and cheesey and lame.#not that i find those things lame #but just that it feels like im stuck in baby brain.#when i was a teen i would write horror stories!!! i still love horror!!!#but if i make someone suffer in fic now it feels me with this awful awful overwhelming sense of dread and guilt and i end up so upset #im frustrated at me bc this is such a fucking weird sensitivity to have. im tried of telling myself its okay #bc i WANT to feel mentally free enough to create shit that isnt just uwu soft.#i don't think im making sense but like.#you know #I've literally been bullied out of fandom spaces for only making soft content #multiple times.#so idk maybe this is a learned sense of shame #but i feel like a big over sensitive baby and like I'd be able to do so much more if i wasn't #vent ish

7 notes · View notes

thehusbandoden · 9 months

Text

I've been stressed out this past week and haven't been able to write much </3

I don't know what to write, but I kinda want to write either Dabi, Shoto, Hawks, or Tamaki??

Idk, do you mind lending me your brains for a minute? If you have a specific idea don't hesitate to send in a request <33

Tysm. 🥺 Feel free to comment/request anything if you'd like <3

~~~~~

Navigation | Masterlist | Requesting Rules

#Oh and I started school so y'know that helps #Idk why but I feel drawn to write either Dabi or Tamaki #Y'know what I'mma just go scroll through my random drabbles #Maybe I'll find a gem in there or something #sorry for the rambling again lol #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader #angst #fluff #thehusbandoden #bnha poll #question poll #mha poll #chit chats #mha chit chats

7 notes · View notes

mommalosthermind · 2 months

Text

I’m a writer! Of course I’m opening a doc to braindump a story that’s approximately five sequels away from the one I’m supposed to be working on.

#momma talks #this is a call out post @ me personally but also probably you. don’t lie.#i am very tired and achey and TIRED and my brain decided that meant it should gift me a fully formed fic #that makes no sense because it’s SO FAR AWAY from what I’m writing #so. i have 500 words for today and zero of them are in the right doc send help and maybe mid ol #midol. except midol sucks so nevermind. gonna chug extremely caffeined #tea and stare into the void #and by the void i mean scrivener #and hopefully i will feel like a human by the time the oldest offsprings requires their daily walk-and-traumatize-me-with-angst-fic time

3 notes · View notes

arkhamknightz · 3 months

Text

me trying how to figure out how to write something other than angst

#— kai speaks!#help #i dont know how to write fluff #i literally am an angst writer at my core #maybe i am just sad #how to write happy fic

2 notes · View notes

callsignspark · 10 months

Text

thinking about Jake and Flora and how they both have to work on being more vulnerable and open with each other. they're both fiercely independent people and aren't good about asking for help when they need it.

Flora is awful about asking for help with tasks/projects. it's been just her for so long that asking for help with anything physical doesn't even register as an option in her brain. the only time she asks for help without hesitation is at her shop, and that's only when it's something she knows she can't do herself, like moving an enormous floral display or putting up new lighting. she's good about asking for support when it comes to emotional/mental health things. she's not afraid to call Natasha up and vent or ask for advice or just have her come over so she's not being sad all alone. Nat wasn't always stationed near her, but phone calls and emails are always available.

on the other hand, Jake is good about asking for help with tangible things. teamwork has been drilled into his head since he was a kid - first during sports and then the navy really drove it home. so he doesn't hesitate to be like, "Can someone help me with fixing my truck?" because (1) he knows he doesn't know enough to do it himself and (2) it'll get done faster if someone who knows what they're doing helps. but he is very much the guy who bottles up his feelings, just pushes them down, and ignores them. he knows it's not healthy, but he doesn't know how else to deal with them.

they both get much better about their respective difficulties, but early on in their friendship-turning-into-a-relationship, it'll just be like: *Jake comes over to her house* "Why did you hang up the curtains? I was going to do that for you this weekend!" and she's just like "Oh, that's sweet but I just wanted it done so I did it." as she's completely covered in drywall dust from drilling holes. meanwhile, Jake is having a bad week, because of family and work and just everything going wrong. so he's snapping at everyone, and she takes him home and helps him relax before coaxing him into talking about what's bothering him. he didn't even know he was on the verge of tears until he feels her wiping them away.

idk just these two loving and supporting each other and consciously working to improve their communication skills for the person they love.

#I seriously can't wait to write these two!!!#the angst and the love is going to be so delicious #Xs and Os fic #X&O fic #was this inspired by me manically hanging up the curtains in my office because I can't wait for someone to visit and help me? maybe #elle writes

2 notes · View notes

angeygirl · 10 months

Text

FNaF One-Shot: Broken Music Box, Broken Memories

While rusting away in a sealed room, the creature who would become Springtrap finds himself forgetting everything except for pain and darkness. Music, however, is known to have powerful effect on memory.

Inspired by a headcanon by @ponds-of-ink

(Not super graphic, but seeing as this involves the aftermath of the spring-lock incident, there is going to be some heavy injuries described in the first half)

------------------------------------

The pain that tore through the man’s body had dulled in the time he spent in the darkness, but how long exactly would be a mystery. Even as the body was torn to shreds, the spirit clung violently to the remains; whether they be flesh or metal didn’t matter.

The Hell that awaited him would somehow be worse.

In Hell he wouldn’t have been given the mercy of going numb.

He should have been dead multiple times over, and each death had killed some part of the human being wedged inside the robotic suit. The first death was the blood streaming freely from the gashes, then the steel that stabbed his lungs, the bars that crushed his throat, the toxins leaking out from his organs. Eventually infection would set in as well as poisoning from the rust and corrosion. Fitting that a man who had caused so much death would meet his own end in so many ways at once. His only thought was staying tethered to the living world. Somehow, he did. By an unholy combination of magic and science, his soul was still bound to a body and he became a thing both dead and alive.

But, that scrap of life could still be chipped at. Sometime after the pain of his first death had faded into a numb ache, he felt another sensation: a painful dryness in the throat and clawing emptiness in the stomach.

Thirst faded away first. Though his throat was still rough with dry blood, there was no longer the pain of dehydration. The need for water had died. Hunger became unbearable until it too, dulled. It must have been at least a month, then. There was no other way of keeping track of time.

Each time he lost another sensation, another part of his humanity was lost as well. Memories blurred together or faded away. He could feel parts of himself falling off and drying up, but nothing could be done about it. His human body was breaking down. The idea he was still aware of it should have petrified him, but there was no point. He was still bonded in a body, any body. There was no point thinking about it. No point thinking about anything. The only thing that mattered was that this fate was not an eternal one.

The darkness and silence were enough to drive a man mad, and they did. At least, they would have if there was still a man inside that machine. The memory of anything that was not blackness and pain was feint and distorted. Strange images occasionally flickered in his mind and voices whispered in his ear, but he still knew one thing for certain: Hell would have been worse. Hibernation in this purgatory was a mercy.

The monster did not know how long he had been waiting, maybe it was only a few weeks, maybe it was decades. The pain had numbed enough that he dared to twitch a few fingers. With the squealing of rusted joints, he endeavoured to move and possibly stand. There might have been a weak point in the wall. After the pain he had endured for what felt like a lifetime, tearing himself out would at least be a possibility. He had learned patience, or perhaps it was desperation.

The mechanical creature twisted his torso to brace himself on the wall but stopped when he heard click. A feint, distorted chime came from somewhere inside his body. The trembling plinking formed a sound almost like a melody. He dropped back to the floor and listened. The out of tune notes were surprisingly sweet. After all, it was the only sound he had heard in the timeless void. He nodded slightly and would have endeavoured to hum if it was possible, but the steel in his throat prevented it. The melody sounded oddly familiar, oddly comforting. Slowly but steadily, a new sensation crept into his chest. At first it was a sort of prickling warmth, strange but pleasant. Blurred pictures slowly crept into the edges of his mind.

He closed his eyes, though it wouldn’t change much, and tried to conjure the phantom shapes. The first was a feint memory of a woman, dancing gracefully alone, or was he guiding her dainty form with his clumsy paws? The image flickered away like a candle, but he grabbed at another spark, a little girl. She seemed cheerful, but vanished before he could recall her face. He tried to catch the memory again, but it was gone. He could only recall the reddish golden hair.

He realized he had forgotten what sunlight was.

A dull, heavy feeling clutched his ribcage.

The monster dug into his own mind, trying to find another image. The next was not a pleasant one. A little boy, bruised and tearful trying to clean himself up in secret. Was he looking at himself from the outside? His mind strained from the effort until he found what must have been him, but younger, more stubborn and much more bold. Then why did he feel so much resentment at the thought of this reflection? What had that reflection done? He searched again until he found himself, small and frightened and bruised. There was shelter under the bed, with a small music box clinking out a melancholy tune.

He could not remember the faces of the people that entered this dream, but he knew they had been the cause of many good feelings. That was all he remembered, feelings, perceptions. He tried to put names to the faces and faces to the feelings, but it was all lost in the void of madness and time. Nothing seemed concrete. If nothing was concrete, then what was the ache in his chest too dull and phantom to be from the injuries? Why did his throat tighten despite the metal rods in his neck? What was the tension in his eyes that threatened to bring tears that could never fall?

These were the thoughts of a human being, not of an immortal monster.

No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, emotions continued stirring up inside him. What emotions? What could a heartless creature know of loneliness, nostalgia or grief? What could this unloved and unloving machine possibly remember of a family, loving or not? What could he have ever known of a normal life? A life free of bloodshed? How could the remains of an ordinary man still be hiding inside this undead killer?

The gentle, distorted melody continued on, but for how long? Hours? Days? Only a few minuets? Time was impossible to keep track of in the sea of blackness. How much longer could he last while lost in fragmented memories? The thoughts and feelings and repeated melody were maddening. The beast had already gone mad years ago.

This was more painful than the hooks ripping into the human flesh he still housed. The ache of stiff fingers as he searched was nothing compared to the weight in the remains of his heart. The mechanical rabbit reached inside his own body and felt around his torso, looking for the source of the chimes that put him in so much pain. This was an entirely new torment. After being numb and immune to such pain for years, it was as if the softest, most secret part of himself had been torn open and exposed. After a few minuets of searching, he found the box and ripped it out without hesitation. It continued its trembling chimes while he studied it for a moment. The rabbit raised his claws and bashed it on the ground.

With a clink! the notes died.

So did the last shreds of William Afton’s humanity.

#springtrap #william afton #fnaf fanfic #my writing #angst fic #maybe a little dramatic #but i'm ok with that #also i wanted to work in the idea that Springtrap died multiple times and each time got more corrupted #hence the multiple fatal injuries and dehydration/starvation mentioned at the start #recovered his senses a bit as scraptrap (since he can talk) but Elizabeth might have helped with that (at least a little)

6 notes · View notes

allergic-to-four-leaf-clovers · 1 year

Text

[+] Isolation [+]

A short story of the Isolation Ending.

CW: Reference to isolation (willingly), mentions of past murder and torture, mention of starvation, dehydration and sleep deprivation. View with caution.

Author Note: wooo a fancy piece of writing done, albeit a small one. I'm actually quite proud of how this came out, it's- really quite good in my opinion. oh yeah also- credits to @an-author-and-his-characters for a funky little picture that inspired me to create this :D. with that mini rant out of the way, enjoy!!

==========================

Rayan could barely recall the last time he saw sunlight, nor could he remember being in it. he could still, albeit barely, feel the comforting sensation of sun rays basking across his skin, now a mere burning memory of when he actually felt alive.

Yet, here he sat - well, more crouched - in this suffocatingly cramped room he'd deemed as his safe space, the door locked tightly shut and barricaded even further with the nearest objects he could find. For safety reasons, he had told himself. In case he'd somehow escape in the future. If he even had a future at this point. The only source of light was from a miniscule window on the wall, faint blue-grey moonlight barely being able to filter through the glass.

He couldn't recall how long he'd been here. The nearly piercing pain of willing starvation had dulled to a dim ache after a while in his stomach, his throat hoarse and sore and his lips dry from lack of water. His eyes were heavy, yet he told himself he didn't dare rest, or even shut his eyes for that matter. Even he himself did not know why.

"This is for the best", he had told himself. "No-one will be hurt if this happens". "This is for their own good". Those same phrases had been circulating in his mind for as long as he'd been willingly trapped in here. From the now distant day of which he'd first confined himself in the solitary room, to.. now. He assumed nothing had changed in the outside world since he'd isolated himself. He doubted anybody even cared about his sudden disappearance.

"If this happens, nobody will get hurt". That's the phrase that he repeated the most. With him willingly isolating himself, completely devoid of food, water, human contact and communication, everybody would be safe. His past torture and murder victims whom had miraculously survived, wouldn't have to worry about him. His future victims would be safe. His friends, his family, Madison, Carrie, Kade, Zaden, Clyde, Iris, everyone, they'd all be perfectly fine, free from harm.

Free from Rayan himself.

==========================

#writing #oc writing #my ocs #ocs #oc shit #oc angst #tw? maybe #help i forgor to add tags

4 notes · View notes

beevean · 2 years

Text

The Day That Hope Died

Yes, that’s the name of a real path in ShTH. I love this game <3

An exchange between Sonic and Shadow in the Pure Dark-Dark ending, inspired by a certain comic and its handling of respecting other people’s identity and choices. Sonic might be OOC (let alone Shadow but that comes with the territory), but I did my best with this unusual situation ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The idea of separating Diablon and Sonic so that they can have a 1-to-1, and most importantly a certain action Sonic takes :P are the suggestions of @rollflasher.

AO3 link: here.

Commander!

Sonic rushed to the core of the G.U.N. Fortress, heart hammering in his chest, he was too slow, he was too late!

If only those annoying black creatures didn’t hold him back! Now the Commander’s mech was nothing more than red scraps of metal scattered onto the floor. Sonic couldn’t see him anywhere… did he…?

“Only one left.”

A cold voice distracted him.

Shadow was approaching the remains of the Diablon, twirling like a toy the purple Chaos Emerald that used to power up the machine. That all but confirmed the worst in Sonic’s mind.

Shadow helped the aliens. Shadow destroyed multiple cities. Shadow destroyed the computers in G.U.N.’s base to weaken their defenses. Shadow murdered the Commander. At this rate, Shadow would destroy the entire planet.

That’s enough.

“Shadow!”

The black hedgehog snapped his head up as Sonic approached him. Cold eyes stared at him, through him, unrecognizable.

“Rouge told me that I’d find you here,” he said, in the most casual tone he could muster. “You really crossed the line, bud. I can’t let you do as you please anymore.”

“Not you again… Step back,” Shadow barked. “You can’t stop me from taking the last Emerald.”

Well, being nice was worth a shot.

“Oh, looking for this?”

Sonic took from his quills the only Chaos Emerald that Shadow hadn’t managed to snatch yet; the Commander had the right idea, separating the two gems so that they wouldn’t neatly fall in Shadow’s lap. The soft red light tinted the tiny platform underground. Sonic would find it funny, if the circumstances were different.

Shadow’s eyes widened and he looked taken aback, but not for long: as soon as his jet skates activated, Sonic stepped aside, avoiding Shadow’s lunging attack. And again, and again. Predictable. He couldn’t even have fun.

“Hello, fastest thing alive? You have to do better than that.”

Bored of the little dodging game, he grabbed Shadow’s wrist and kicked his legs. Surprisingly, Shadow fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. Sonic quickly thanked the Commander for tiring him out.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Shadow. I never thought I’d have to fight you like this again, but after all you did…”

Shadow wasn’t exactly a great person when Sonic first met him either, but he missed when the worst thing the other hedgehog did was being his faker. Now, he will never erase the images of the crumbling Central City and the sound of the grieving survivors from his mind.

The hedgehog started to get up, and before Sonic could react he started to talk, voice dripping with bitterness: “Don’t pretend you suddenly care. Either leave or perish at my hand, but stop being a coward.”

The derisive tone stung Sonic more than it should have. His ears drooped. “I do care. You’re my friend.”

Sonic shouldn’t talk to him. He should take him down! This is what he did with terrorists like Eggman! But I can’t… I can’t bring myself to attack him. I need to know first.

Shadow actually took a step back, and all of a sudden he bristled in a rage Sonic had never seen before from him: “You liar! Are you trying to guilt trip me?”

So Sonic had touched a hot button. He pressed on: he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he had to ask, he had to understand what was going on. “I watched you die to save the planet. You helped me again even when you didn’t remember me. You are a good person at heart, I know it! What happened to you?” A realization flashed in his mind before Shadow could even open his mouth. “Wait, it was that Doom guy, wasn’t he? He filled your head with nonsense!”

It had to be him. That stupid looking starfish alien, always hovering around Shadow, always telling him what to do… Sonic wished he had taken care of him back during the attack on Westopolis. But he got distracted, and now it was too late.

… Was all of this his fault?

Shadow crossed his arms, hands gripping too tightly to pretend to be aloof. “How presumptuous. Do you think you know me better than myself?”

“Looks like it. I don’t know what I’m looking at, but you’re not the Shadow I know.”

“Who do you think you are? ‘Your friend’? ‘The Shadow you know’? You just want me to be what you expect from me, don’t you?”

“I want you to snap out of it, yes. This isn’t you!”

“You don’t know anything! Black Doom helped me understand! It is my duty to judge mankind. Those foolish humans don’t deserve to live, and I will punish them personally–”

“SHUT UP!”

Sonic dashed to Shadow still rambling like a maniac and did the first thing on his mind: he punched him in the face with all his strength.

He almost fell over, probably more due to the shock than the pain. Even with his knuckles dully throbbing, even with his hands shaking, Sonic couldn’t deny that it felt great.

But Shadow didn’t have the decency to take the hint; there he was again, with that mocking fake smile, and those empty eyes. “Heh, I’m surprised you had it in you.”

“Enough!” he yelled. “I don’t want to hear another word from you unless it’s ‘I’m sorry, I’m back to normal’!”

Black Doom… it’s all because of him! When I get my hands on him…

“Arrogant hedgehog. How dare you dictate my own identity? I finally know who I am! I won’t let anyone sway me or stand in my way!”

Sonic huffed in spite of himself. “Your ‘identity’? Don’t act all philosophical on me when you’re talking about killing people.”

“This is what I was made for! They deserve it for what they did!” Shadow shouted, with such conviction in his voice that felt like a punch to the gut.

His fur began to shimmer of a bright red color; it hurt in the dimness of the cave. Nausea bubbled in Sonic’s throat, both because the negative Chaos Energy was too much to handle, and because of Shadow’s words. The more he let him talk, the worse he got.

His hatred sounded too familiar to be mere brainwashing.

Sonic sighed. “Fine. If you won’t come to your senses on your own, I’ll knock some into you! I stopped you once, I can do it again!”

Yes, the race on the ARK… he remembered it like it was yesterday. It was fun, racing someone as fast as him, keeping up with his banter. Yes, the real goal was to destroy the Eclipse Cannon from being used by Eggman, but Shadow was such an intriguing rival, and it was chilling to discover what was done to him, and the relief at him coming back to help them against the plans of his creators was immensurable.

There was no trace of that honorable person in the madman drowning in Chaos Energy in front of him, who was so sure that not only destroying the world was good, but was his purpose.

Was it Black Doom’s fault for reopening old wounds?

Was it really Sonic’s fault for leaving him alone?

Should he have kept a closer eye on his former friend?

But more importantly: what could he do now?

Shadow spread his arms, a twisted smile on his lips. The cave wasn’t red anymore, but shone with all the colors of the rainbow: the Chaos Emeralds were lazily circling around the black hedgehog. Their power was almost palpable, a soothing warmth caressing Sonic’s fur, but it wasn’t enough to stop the dread squeezing his chest.

Shadow with one Emerald could use powers Sonic couldn’t even imagine. Shadow with six Chaos Emeralds would be nothing short of a beast. It would be like trying to take Perfect Chaos down without his Super form. His chances were slim…

… but when did that ever stop him before?

“You’re clearly outmatched, Sonic!” Shadow cackled. “Give up and be smart for once! But if you insist on supporting humanity… I won’t show any more mercy!”

Something snapped inside him.

What was he doing, wasting time like this? Trying to reason with him? No matter how much he begged… people like him didn’t change that easily.

Maybe… maybe he is the real Shadow, and I was wrong all along.

Sonic clung onto his only Emerald and his cold anger. Nothing else mattered. There was only him, the world in dire danger, and an enemy to be stopped at all costs.

“Okay, Shadow. You made your choice. If being a murderer is what you really are… I’ll treat you as such.”

#sonic the hedgehog #beev's writing #obligatory 'i'm not a writer' disclaimer #shadow the hedgehog #shth #shadow the hedgehog (2005)#me: nice merciful hero you got there it would be a shame if i broke him :3 #i love writing dialogue #descriptions on the other hand can burn where they belong #no fight because i suck at it sorry #other names for this fics were 'truth thy name is vengeance'#'a heart awoken from darkness'#and a slightly less melodramatic 'are you friend or fiend'#the name doesn't necessarily reflect the path i just wanted to emphasize poor sonic getting disillusioned #funnily enough you can get to gun fortress after helping sonic twice in a row #the path is called 'birth of a devil'#some of the dialogue is taken from windii's retranslation btw #will i ever move on from shth angst? maybe... surge angst sounds intriguing too ;)#now i don't know if i'll ever finish let alone publish my fic based on the pure dark-hero ending however it's too similar

19 notes · View notes