#angst ideas

[redd956]

Obsessed with the idea of an already wounded/exhausted character going "I... can take it." Like no bish you can't, but love enthusiasm and the horrified looks of your team.

[shittyauthorsunite]

Whumpee who has never been treated good. Whumpee who accepts worse than the bare minimum. Whumpee who's in a relationship with caretaker, and absentmindedly asks caretaker to stop doing something. Whumpee who freezes up after asking because they expect caretaker to be just like the rest.

Whumpee who's baffled when caretaker neither ignores them, nor yells. Caretaker who immediately stops because they don't want to make whumpee uncomfortable. Whumpee who acts like caretaker is a godsend, and caretaker visibly concerned because all they did was respect their lovers boundaries.

( Bonus points if whumpee starts overexplaining themself because they've had to fight to be understood their whole life, and caretaker just nods along with a bittersweet expression. )

Is this anything? Also apologies for being inactive for a few days, writers block is so bad I can hardly even think of prompts.

[youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon]

Imagine having your period while you’re working a shift at the bar, and even though you’ve washed, you still carry the scent of blood.

Pierrot walks in, greeting you with his big hand.

And… as he approaches the counter, you see him tilt his head upward, as if he’s… sniffing the air.

Blood.

He can smell blood.

And not just any blood.

Yours.

Pierrot vaults over the counter, throwing himself over you, shielding you from view.

“Why did you come here?” he whispers, curled close to you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, confused.

“… you smell like blood. Do you know what that means? Do you know what that implies? For them? For all of them?! For… me? You drive me mad. Mad! Completely mad! I can’t let you work. Not here. You’re too… close to them. You’re in danger. I don’t like it. Take the day off.”

“Pierrot! I can’t, there’s no one else!”

“I don’t care! I can’t let them—Harlequin—him—” he starts, breath short, panicked.

“Pierrot? Pierrot, are you okay? Do you want some water?”

“Please, my lady. Please! I can’t lose you, I won’t! Don’t—please!”

[crashingcryptid]

The mission had failed. It hadn't been anyone's fault, not really. An ambush had caught you all of guard, and the team had to fall back and get extracted. A complete bust, and Kyle almost got killed.

Somehow, it became your fault. Seeing Kyle in the hospital bed, Price snapped at you that your recklessness had put him in that bed. "This is your fault. You could've gotten him killed." You both know it isn't true, but you're new to the team, and Price needs someone to blame. Everyone did, so they started to ignore you.

They didn't talk when you sat with them in the mess hall, didn't have little conversations with you in the gym, and didn't want anything to do with you. It was like you'd become invisible to them, only good to be talked to if they needed you for a deployment. It took everything in you not to beg for them to talk to you.

You remember the times your parents would do the same, ignoring you as you begged for them to please talk to you. Please forgive you, please love you, you would promise to be good if they would just talk to you. Old habits die hard, another letter to Price scrawled messily as you sat at your desk.

You'd clean the toilets and showers for a month, you'd regrout the whole base, you'd do inventory for the rest of your life if it meant your team would just talk to you again. You rip up the letter and throw it away instead of giving it to him.

You stop eating. At least at their table. You take your food to your office. It's not technically allowed, but it's not like anyone pays much attention to you these days. It's safer in your office, quiet because you're alone not because you're being shut out. Life becomes simple motions. Wake up, work out, eat, work, lunch, work, another workout, dinner, and get ready for bed.

You stop seeking out your team, watching them interact from afar. It was probably easier to ice you out since they already got along with each other so well. Inside jokes that were established long before you joined, little pats to the shoulder, and going out drinking if there was an opportunity. If they didn't want you around, you didn't need to force your presence.

Laswell seemed to notice the effects on you. You were losing weight, sleep, even your patience as you snapped on the soldiers you were training.

"I think you should go on leave." Laswell slides the leave form across the desk for you to sign. Two weeks. She wasn't asking. She just needed your signature and for you to go. Maybe some time away would make the team feel better. They couldn't forgive someone they saw all around bas.

You sign the leave form, pack up a suitcase, and book a flight for the evening to anywhere that wasn't here. You didn't want to stay here any longer. It had been so long since anyone spoke to you that you had forgotten the sound of your voice. If you brought back a good souvenir, maybe they would forgive you.

Laswell watches you leave her office, taking your leave slip and tucking it into a folder. If Price didn't get his shit together and fix what he's done to his team, she wouldn't hesitate to put in your team transfer request. There wasn't much else she could do until then, waiting for a solution to form, or for you to leave.

[leavley]

CW // Suicidal ideation

~~~

Whumpee with a death wish. Depending on the character, the ways it will play out can wildly vary.

The loud and charismatic type wants one last blaze of glory to be remembered by. The lone wolf wants to find a quiet place and close their eyes for good.

After some time, maybe Caretaker notices Whumpee comes to them less and less, for injuries growing more and more serious. It can be a heartbreaking thing to discover about someone, and very difficult to break such a cycle of thought if it’s rooted into Whumpee’s everyday life.

If it has become a lifestyle, it becomes more of a monumental change in Whumpee’s life for every day they’ve lived it.

“I have to do this, Caretaker. I…”

“No. Please, please, I’m begging you… you don’t.”

[tallowandport]

This is based off Fanon, I am fully aware that in Canon a lotta this stuff is different. I just really like this idea because it's angsty as fuck:

Jason, assuming Tim was Part Of The Family and thinking Bruce just fully adopted this whole other kid immediately after he died, and being pissed about it.

Meanwhile Tim 'created an entire fake uncle just to avoid being adopted because Bruce and his relationship is purely Boss-and-Employee' Drake is just sitting here.

Jason, after everything's settled down and the batfam's got a truce going, like "so how many movie nights did you have? How many toys did Bruce bury you in each birthday?"

and Tim's like "??? Why would I have movie nights with my boss??? And the only thing I got for my 'birthday' was Trust Issues."

[veenuszz3]

Hey so anyone ever though about a time travel vampires smp fic where whatever character travels into the past somehow ends up in the time louis was still alive and well at and they keep mistaking him for owen in the back of their minds cause in the end he did manage to make himself look painfully similar to him...