Pathetic love struck Dot who's all "lemon chan" this and "lemon chan" that, who even turned down the cute and a little love crazy pink haired girl from the Lang dorm because of his "future fiance Lemon"
Which at first you were fine with, it's the first year of college, people change their minds but now almost three years later the both of you are on the cusp of graduation and he's still obsessed with Lemon chan who's still obsessed with clueless Mash. So you seek out someone else to have a fun flirty time with, asking Dot to take you to a dorm party before meeting up and clinging to the arm of a handsome guy and suddenly Dot doesn't even know who Lemon is anymore.
All he sees is you, his best friend who's always been there for him, who's always clung to him and held his hand when you were both scared, the one who made him feel brave and protective of you and strong, laughing and hanging off of another man.
Honestly though, this would tear me up inside. Because imagine pining after him for literal years, having to listen to him talk about how much he “loves” someone else and his dreams of them together and you’re just… there.
And Dot just doesn’t get it? No matter how many times he asks you if you have a crush on someone, or why you still don’t have a boyfriend yet when “you ain’t ugly to look at or anything” “oh, thanks Dot🙄”
So when you go to the party that night and he immediately splits up to find Lemon, you find yourself feeling alone because the one guy you want to be with doesn’t wanna be with you.
“I think I found someone who doesn’t wanna be here even more than me.” You smile as you flop down beside Lance as he offers you a sip of the fruity drink in his cup.
And it’s barely an hour later when you’ve found a secluded with Lance and for the first time in as long as you can remember you feel content? All the time you’d spent in his and Dot’s dorm room you feel comfortable around him. So when he leans in to kiss you, you’re reaching up to hold his jaw as you kiss him back—
And of course that’s the exact moment that Dot spots you on the other side of the room.
Warner Angst [Mostly Yakko]: A New World Order by LeDiz: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683027 Summary: The Reboot has begun! And so Yakko must adjust to becoming a digital native, mansplainer, and arguably socially aware big brother. Egh, he got through TV in the fifties, he can do this...
The Animaniacs Fanfic community is so slow I’ve been saving some of my favourites to an ever-updating rec list by yours truly 🤗
This particular list is broken up into Angst and Fluff categories, though they occasionally overlap I place them wherever I think is most appropriate 😊
Hope you peeps enjoy and send me any fics you find that I haven’t already listed 😅
“SPOT, TURN OFF THAT AWFUL MUSIC,” COMPLAINED DAVEY. When Spot, who sat in the passenger seat of the car, didn’t respond, Davey reached out with one arm and smacked him lightly on the arm. “Turn. It. Off.”
Spot grinned, holding his phone farther from Davey. “Never Gonna Give You Up is a great song! C’mon, Davey, let up,” he pleaded, his voice overly filled with sadness.
Davey groaned, swatting at Spot repeatedly. “It’s awful! I mean… can he even sing? Just listen to it,” he sighed.
“I’m trying too! You won’t let me,” Spot said. Davey turned to glare at him, but Spot simply “Davey, bud, please.”
There was a final, unhappy sigh before Davey gave in. “Just one more play of it, though,” he added. “Having listened to this for the past half hour, I have an awful headache.”
In fact, the lyrics were on a constant repeat in Davey’s mind, causing his head to spin. He would never admit it to Spot, though; Spot would continue to play the song for hours on end if he knew. The more torturous the song, the better, as he often said.
Spot’s grin widened from ear to ear and he eagerly tapped at the screen of his phone, setting the song to another replay. As the song faded out, it erupted out of the speakers again, the hauntingly catchy and yet still positively awful music circling Davey’s thoughts.
Before he knew it, he was mouthing the words, whispering them beneath his breath. And Davey’d barely realized it when Spot let out a loud ‘AHA’.
Davey jumped, jerking the steering wheel. As he straightened the car back into the correct lane, he shot a death look at Spot.
“What was that?” he hissed, teeth clenched and face turning bright red. He already knew what was coming.
“You’re singing,” whispered Spot, almost in awe. There was a babyish look of joy starting to spread on his face and then it completely changed, turning into a hysterical happiness. “Oh my gosh, you were singing along.” He burst into uncontrollable laughter, a few snorts caught in between the laughs.
“Stop!” Davey groaned, tearing his eyes from the road to snag Spot’s phone from a limp grasp. “I wasn’t singing! I was-”
He was cut off as a car slammed into their own vehicle from the front, making everything turn into a noisy blur. Crashes and pressure and spinning all started at the same time. There was no time to form thoughts, no time to react to anything.
It was all over before it felt like it had started; their car spun to the side of the road and began spitting smoke from the front. Airbags had gone off in the chaos and numb pain was spreading through Davey’s body.
Raising his head, he struggled to unbuckle his seat belt. When Davey finally managed to complete the feat, he opened his door and fell out onto the grass, coughing from the fumes emitted from the airbag explosion.
He crawled to the other side of the car, stumbling to his feet when he reached Spot’s door. The door was creased and dented, glass shattered; the other car had directly impacted this area, and the looks of it didn’t ease the terror pumping through Davey’s veins.
His throat clogged, heart pounding, Davey opened the door. He was able to unstrap the seatbelt trapping Spot and he pulled his friend from the car and onto the grass.
Spot was still, and when Davey lowered an ear to his chest, there was a horribly faint heartbeat. The occasional breaths from Spot were harder to detect. And there was blood, blood all on Spot’s face.
Davey had no idea what had happened to Spot. He wracked his brain in a panicked sweat, searching for any clue as to determine the situation. Nothing came up; his thoughts swirled and twisted too much to discern anything intelligible.
He gently moved himself away from Spot and turned to the car, climbing in and searching for Spot’s phone. It was the only thing that was ingrained in Davey’s head at the moment: call 911.
When the phone was finally found and Davey emerged from the car, already dialing the number, Spot’s face was pale underneath the blood. His chest had grown still and his entire body was limp.
Davey collapsed on the grass, his hand dropping to his side, clenching the phone tightly. His eyes were locked onto Spot’s closed ones, straining to catch some sort of movement. But all that happened was the dripping of tears down Davey’s face, dragging trails in the dirt on his face.
