#angst bitch

[argumento-ad-nauseam]

"You are the person who makes me feel sadder than anyone or anything," say Portugal.

"..."

England wanted to say something but didn't know what.

He wished for a rational explanation for some reason he couldn't understand, because deep down he understood perfectly well what the other says.

They felt the same way and they knew it was just a strange way of saying: I love you.

[ashturnedtomist]

A letter, from me to you

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A Letter, From Me to You Masterlist

Genre: angst

Parings: Past!C!Quackity x reader

Pronouns: not mentioned!

Warnings: mentions of thievery, Quackity’s real name is mentioned, being intimate is mentioned, but nothing explicit, and one (1) curse word

A girl with bushy brown hair slid around the base of the building, the moonlight reflecting on her multicolored goggles. She crept her way towards the fountain, accidentally catching her reflection in the water, the Las Nevadas sign shining in the background. The teal swirl on her cheek stood out from the rest of her features, making her smile slightly at her appearance. She let out a sigh and sat down on the edge of the fountain. Clutched tightly in her hands was a stolen letter, one addressed to Quackity himself…

To the man who was forgotten and coped in the worst way possible.

I can’t do it anymore.

I can’t stay here.

I know you don’t truly love me, Ale Quackity.

You say you do, and for a moment, I believe you.

But then, we kiss, and you pull back and look at me like you wished I was someone else.

We hug, and you look like it pained you to do so.

We become intimate, and, in the dark, in between warm touches and soft kisses, I hear you whisper their names instead of mine.

You still wear those rings around your neck like you’re hoping, waiting even, for them to come back.

And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

I can’t keep being your replacement for them, a way to fill the void until you decide you’ve had a enough of me and want the “real deal” back.

I’m worth more than that.

Goodbye, Alex.

I love you.

A letter, from me, to you

“What…what is this?”

“What are you doing here?”

The girl jumped from her spot, almost falling into the fountain.

Standing over her in all his glory, was Quackity.

She couldn’t help but notice the worn and rusty gold rings hanging around his neck.

“N-nothing. I was just-”

“Where did you get that?” He asked sharply, cutting her off.

“This? I just-”

He snatched it from her hand and glanced over the contents, his eyes widening in realization.

He glared back over to the girl.

“You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested for breaking into my country. Now, get out. Now.”

She nodded hurriedly, scrambling back towards the entrance.

She couldn’t help but glance back, seeing the dark haired man clutching the letter shakily, his fingers slightly ripping the edges of the paper.

Tags-

@n3r0-1417

[runnfromtheak]

begrudging self-love retrospective

tagged by my loves @bitterleafs and @epistemologys

"Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. Tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!"

I wrote more than I thought this year tbh, so this will be a bit hard because a lot of my works were brain infestation passion projects that consumed me until I released them.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#1, of course, is a fic I am beyond proud of. My longest, my best, and my piece for the 2021 JayDick Summer Exchange: A Dwindling Mercurial High.

It was beyond fun delving into the different post-crisis periods and developing a case fic with twists and turns that surprised most people while delivering on the angst I am known for. It also has multiple endings for the lovely crow, and also because I couldn't see anyone way the case could end. Exploring Dick trying to uncover Gotham's post-Bruce Wayne mysteries while exploring Jason Todd grieving and trying to understand the dichotomy of Dick Grayson really helped me understand both of them better. It was a passion project, and I loved every minute of it.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Coming in #2 is my late offering to the still-active Catradora fandom that I adore far too much. Adora's such an interesting and complex character that I had to write out my take and it kept spiraling and spiraling as I got more and more in touch with who Adora is at her core. First and foremost, it is a character study, but it's also a bit of a tragic love story at the moment as Adora tries to let go of the one constant she's always had.

This one will be finished by February, hopefully, as my interests fluctuate but my need to explore Adora more remains constant.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#3 is a prayer for which no words exist, created in celebration of one of my best friends' birthdays (ico) and inspired by the works of Richard Siken from his collection Crush. It was a bit more project with coping mechanisms than most fics are, but I think that made it more raw and relatable. Writing it felt very intimate, and in ways, I think the fact that Dick is grappling with trauma most people can't understand but copes in ways we all do helps us understand him better. He's sad and pining, but he's trying to be strong because no one else is around to pick him up. And at the end of the day, be it romantic or platonic, don't we all just want to be loved and accepted?

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#4 is my contribution to aggressively arospec week, which celebrates those on the aromantic (a label I personally identify with) spectrum and the works they create around such things. I really, really, liked how this fic turned out and how people responded to it. Part of writing is throwing emotions into the void in hopes of reciprocity, or even understanding. Sometimes, it's a need to release emotion, and sometimes it is a need to let others know they aren't alone. This was a mix of the two, and I'm delighted it helped people. <3

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#5 might be a bit suprising. Majority of my fics are JayDick, with some rare-pairs cast in between, but this fic is dedicated to another of my best friends' birthdays (the wonderful Q aka @withthekeyisking-writer) and an exploration of the way I view one of the most deliciously problematic pairings people hate to love and love to hate: of course, I'm talking about Sladick. It may not be Alabama-style fun times, but it's deliciously dangerous and sexy in a way I didn't know I was capable of writing. It pushed the boundaries of my writing style and made me innovate a bit and grow a lot. Beyond that, it made me realize sometimes Dick just needs a Zaddy to make him stop angsting. Q, my dear, you're entirely to blame for my corruption.

I have (2) honourable mentions:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

and

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

These are both fics I didn't think I was capable of articulating outside of my imagination, ones that seemed too big and grand for me. not to mention they are polyamorous, OT3-centric, fics which is very intimidating to write. Two people in a relationship is difficult, especially finding a good ebb and flow with clashing personalities and keeping them both in character. 3 or 4? Infinitely more so. But, the writing in them is beautiful to me, and I am so excited to continue them and develop these relationships that have come to mean so much to me. I'm proud that I am trying new things, and developing my style further and further. So, yeah.

Now back to my regularly scheduled self-loathing mwahahahahaha

taggin @luthienluinwe, @withthekeyisking-writer, @nightwingvixen23, and @stevieraebarnes in case some of you haven't already done it. Lmfao good luck!

[narcissesmirror]

But. What if Erika was pregnant with Valkyon child before she got crystallized 👀

That would make a sick trope. So much angst.

[cataclysmica]

nessian acowar part11

IT’S GETTING STEAMY B @togreblog (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10) I’m sorry this literally took me .02 seconds to write

As soon as she’d thought about escaping, she could feel his frustrated reaction. Gods, this was awful. She’d never be able to hide her emotions behind sarcasm again. They’d have to actually communicate.

Worse, he might find out she loved him.

She slammed a wall over the thought as fast as she could. From the look on his face, he didn’t feel it. Hear it. Whatever.

“Nesta,” he said again, inching toward her as if she wouldn’t notice. “Why did you say I wouldn’t want you?”

There were about a thousand reasons, obviously, so she just went with the first. “Look at me.”

She felt a brief wave of bafflement down the bond for a second before it cut off sharply, like he’d tried to block it. “I mean, you were attractive as a human. But now…”

Nesta’s hands reached up to her ears unconsciously.

“Now,” he continued firmly, “you’re strong from training. You’re capable of flying and winnowing. And you’re immortal, which is a plus. Why is this a negative?”

She barreled on. “You don’t like that Rhys is making you train me. You act like I’m dumb every time you talk about Feyre and Rhys’s bond. You—”

“Nes, come on. I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“You always say I won’t understand!”

“Well I didn’t know you had a mate,” he said, clearly exasperated even without the bond sending her his every emotion. He was only a few feet from her now — why wasn’t he getting tired?

“And,” she said, scrambling for more negatives. She didn’t have any. She loved him. What could she possibly say? If only she could convince him to give her some time. If only he had liked he just a little more when she’d spilled the truth. Then she wouldn’t have to talk him out of it at all.

“And?” He asked impatiently. “Does Rhys know? He must. He can’t not know.”

“You don’t like me,” she said, going with the truth out of desperation. If he felt forced to love her, especially after what happened with Mor, he’d never want her. Never. At least if he refused her now he’d save her future pain. “You couldn’t love me.”

He didn’t bother blocking the despair on the bond; he rather flung it at her, forcing her to feel how totally unwanted her words made him feel. Her body actually hurt with the force of his pain. She never wanted him to feel like this again, ever, she —

That’s when his wings gave out.

She rocketed after his falling form, the idiot, who had stayed with her rather than landing like he was supposed to. As she flew, she grew her wings out to their original size. She remembered Mor mocking her wingspan that first day, and stretched them even wider than that.

Any emotion she felt was blocked by utter panic.

When she caught him around the waist, latching on with every muscle, all she could do was press her face into his neck and let her wings act as a parachute.

They slowed.

She exhaled shakily against his shoulder, not looking up until she felt him bump gently against the ground. He was on his back. She was on his chest. She vanished her wings to remove their weight.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes searching his. “I’m so sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to push you, I —”

He interrupted her with his lips.

[mutiny-and-retribution]

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else but you.” from horatio

a wretched soul- “Shakespeare Starters”

shakespeare inspired starter for oceansaiiling

tears fell from his eyes in a rapid succession, his long lashes trying their best to bat the salty heathens away. his legs were curled up to his chest, fingers curled in his blond hair as he tried to calm down. the two were stationed inside the restroom that was in the dressing room within his classroom, perched upon the old, stained carpeted floor. clad in his work attire and another gasp leaving him, mr. kennedy fought back another sob. the stars seemed to align in a twisted, horrible line for this to happen. his anxiety medication was foregone this morning in stay of waking up late, and he had not expected to run into the new shop teacher before class, being a terribly familiar face. mr. jack simpson, the new fucking shop teacher. and for horatio to come in and kiss him on the cheek for once ? that made for a very complicated mix of emotions. with a shaky “ are you sure ?” and a proclamation of love from his horatio, the attack began. a shaky hand wiping away a tear, he shook as he attempted to speak. “that’s what they all say. that’s what I said, and that’s what he said and (h o r a t i o)-” the name, so fondly spoken, broke off in a whine as he curled and clung onto the math teacher with another sob.“a wretched soul, bruised with adversity, we bid be quiet when we hear it cry. but were we burdened with like weight of pain, as much or more we should ourselves complain."