#light angst

[jayjayinblue]

a sam winchester coded playlist

a angst playlist that I made about sam and his character development, I hope you'll enjoy :)

[secretsacreds-blog]

Doomed love

Imagine a story with a walrider oc in the outlast trials with a reagent oc that could be your partner you've pretend for years to eb a reagent you've built a relationship with them but one fucking mistake where you've believe they were trust worthy you showed your form to them just for them to run away

"Why would you want to leave me? Can't you see that I love you?"

As you held onto their body as they screamed from.the toxins of the smoke on your body.

Yeses this is a quote from easterman

[cloudxboy]

what if I’m not myself, will you still be there?

totally fluff lusimo art here 👀

no text version below

[yuzarforever]

Nexus Prime 👥 Transformers One Headcanon

This is probably the third most complicated Prime to translate into TFO. In various iteration he's a combiner, a construct made up of several transformers that turn into different parts of a cybertronian frame to then combine and create a new bot.

Not that this changes much, in the end...

Nexus has always been one of the more balanced Primes, with great problem solving and even greater combat abilities. He gets along with pretty mush everyone and, in the group, he has the role of pacekeeper when his older brothers fail and the situation inevitably escalates.

That is because Nexus Prime was born from Primus desire that all his creations live together in harmony and collaborate with each other.

He possesses the broadest spectrum of powers and capabilities of all Primes, one for each member of the gestalt that composes him.

Plasma-ion cannon

Force field shield

Regeneration

Flight (without wings , G1-style)

Machine communication

Because yes, he is a combiner and for this reason he does not posses an "alt-mode". He thinks faster, moves more efficiently, he always has new ideas and, even if he consumes way more fuel than the others, he's always ready to action.

But, if he was born combined, would he even realize what he his? In fact he has no idea.

Scrap! So normal mechs do not usually hear multiple voices in their head each with different ideas and different opinion on how to deal with things? Stop overthinking so much... It is useless to concentrate one's forces to fight what cannot be fought. There's nothing fragging wrong with you! Scrap, THEY are the strange ones! Yeah! You'll make it psychosomatic! Qick question... Did we close the gas? ? ... ... ... ARE YOU FRAGGING KIDDING ME?!?! Here we go again...

Masterpost

[mi-myself-and-i]

BOOK 7 IS KILLING ME RAGHHHHHH

Anyways…. Parallels by big theif is so Lilia and I don’t think anyone else gets it. Also I was going to add Sebek and his Gramps but I am really bad at digital art <\3

[theyluvjulz]

what would happen if nat’s girlfriend died in the wilderness…?

omg wait this scenario is actually so heart-wrenching to think about lol. If Nat’s girlfriend died out in the wilderness, it would completely shatter her in the most quiet, devastating way possible. Nat is already so guarded and used to having to be the tough, resilient one who holds everything together, so losing the one person who was her safe haven out in the middle of nowhere where she couldn't protect her or fix it would break her entire brain. She’d probably spend the first few weeks completely numb, going through the motions of daily life like a ghost, staring at the front door like she's still expecting her to walk through it with mud on her boots and that stupid smile on her face.

The absolute worst part would be the survivor's guilt eating her alive every single second. Nat would replay every decision, every weather forecast, every argument, and every single "be careful" that she didn't say loudly enough before the trip. She’d drive herself insane thinking about those final moments, whether her girlfriend was cold, if she was scared, if she called out for Nat while she was taking her last breaths, and how Nat wasn't there to hold her hand or save her. Nat would probably end up sleeping on her girlfriend's side of the bed post wilderness, wearing her hoodies just to try and trap whatever faint scent is left on the fabric.

Eventually, that deep grief would morph into a really dangerous, self-destructive kind of anger. She’d push everyone who cares about her completely away because feeling anything close to love again would feel like a betrayal to her girlfriend's memory. She’d probably end up driving out to the edge of the woods late at night, sitting on the hood of her car in the freezing pitch-black, smoking cigarette after cigarette and staring into the treeline just wanting to be closer to her. It would basically turn Nat into a shell of herself, forever locked in that grief and waiting for a way to get back to the only girl who ever really knew her inside out.

Or, realistically, she would kill herself. but ehh who am i to say

[bwfambi]

MARRIAGE TROUBLE — THEODORE NOTT

CONTENT : angst (maybe), making out, harsh words

SUMMARY : you hate your obsessive husband, he doesn’t take it so well.

A/N :: didn’t wanna write this tonight but felt bad, hope yall enjoy

“I know—I know I’m selfish, Principessa..” Theodore trails off, fingers curling at your sides, inching tighter as his frantic eyes chase your gaze. “I want you all to myself.” He states, attempting to bring you closer to him.

The distance was there, your marriage was arranged, purely by the idea that you two were pure-bloods and would make the family line stronger. Despite the fact that you were clearly too young, still in school. It was bullshit, you never wanted this— him.

Theodore Nott was witted, a charismatic energy many felt drawn to; your parents were no different.

They had deemed Theodore a positive influence, dismissing the fact that he was close friends with Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater, hence Theo’s usual stark demeanour and no matter what you did, it was impossible to prove so.

However, Theo followed behind you everywhere like a puppy. Deep blue eyes always searching for an ounce of care that could at least soothe his spilling heart. Yet you never showed any regard, making sure he never fell into the idea that you loved him back.

Your hands clench into fists, teeth grinding against each other, he was a distraction. A distraction from assignments, duties, and priorities which he certainly wasn’t included in. “Vulnerability is a weakness, you disgust me.” You bite back, pulling yourself away.

His expression darkens, the familiar twinkle in his determination fading away instantaneously. Fingers fiddling with the keys in his pocket, anything to not yell out of anger.

“This isn’t vulnerability, you are my wife. I don’t want to see you hanging around other men, especially Harry Potter.” He states firmly, biting the insides of his cheeks shortly afterwards. His patience was crippling by the minute.

There it was, the man you knew was hiding beneath ‘sweet gentle Theodore Nott’. He was obsessed, unhealthily some may suggest. Most would if they saw him like this.

You cross your arms, scoffing at the change in his attitude towards you. A ‘brilliant’ husband he was. The bloody man couldn’t even keep his act up for more than a mere minute.

Theodore moves in, closing the gap between you once more, now cradling your face with such fondness it would fool any outsider looking in.

Your eyes widen for a moment, surprised at his confidence. The composure he’s been able to keep. “Careful, Nott.” You mumble, backing up against the wall.

He smirks in return, the twinkle suddenly appearing once more. “You won’t be able to resist for long, I look forward to that.” He utters back courageously, anticipation pumping through his veins.

Before you can think of a response, his lips crash onto yours, sucking your bottom in a hurried mess, biting occasionally like a miniature punishment. His tongue twirls with yours, head moving in as close as he possibly can, one hand still cupping your cheek and the other at the back of your waist.

As much as you try to deny and push, you melt into the kiss. Whimpering softly at the sudden contact. You were human at the end of the day, you still despised him, but this felt too good to pass.

After a few seconds, he breaks away, panting heavily as his hand makes its way back to your face, rubbing around the mole on your lower cheek. You were so beautiful, it didn’t matter you weren’t as obsessed as he was because he still has you.

“This doesn’t mean anything, you’re still bothersome to me.” You exclaim, brows furrowing into a tight line. Immediately pushing him hard, as far as you can away from you.

The original grin still remains on Theodore’s face, perhaps wider. The triumph he was celebrating was loud enough for you to notice yet silent enough for you not to hear. “As you say, tesoro.” He whispers, winking before leaving your dorm.

[blue-sky336]

Pairing: Michael Robbinavitch x reader x Dennis Whitaker, Dennis Whitaker x Michael Robbinavitch Description: You desperately need a vacation Warnings: I don't know medical terminology and lowkey sucked at writing this, sorry smh

Work was unforgiving per usual. LEDs burned your retinas and after your last combative patient whom you had left to your fellow resident, you were quite literally just done with the day. The psychiatric ward, which was relatively calm, had become nothing short of a land mine and you were nothing more than its helpless victim. was nothing that would bring your mood back besides maybe a couple of strong, warm arms holding you close at night. Your feet felt extra heavy today as you made your way down to the ER.

After an elevator and a few twists and turns you found yourself face to face with the bustling emergency room. You gained a few smiles from the day shift and an awkward half smile, short wave from Mel. You adored the girl, even more after your last karaoke night with her and Santos. Yet, she was not the person you were looking for. Instead, your eyes were set on finding your farm boy and mid-life crisis.

It didn't take long until you spotted them. They were both in the middle of caring for a trauma, blood splattered across their patient's skin, dripping down their lacerated scalp on to the linoleum floor. You swallowed hard. Sometimes you missed the rush of a trauma, the feeling of getting your hands dirty and knowing that no matter what you would do whatever you could to keep them alive and stable. However, the overall rush and frustration of the emergency was what truly turned you off during your rotations. Psychiatry wasn't your initial choice, but it seemed you had a calling for it.

You didn't hear Robby or Dennis as they walked out of trauma 1, still wrapped up in your thoughts. Despite being a doctor yourself, you hadn't recognised your shaking hands and clammy skin until two warm hands gently reached for you, one on the small of your back and the other in your own hand. You practically jumped out of your skin, looking up rather quickly. You weren't aware of how much the room spun before, or maybe you were the one spinning? Your mind was a mess of dizzying colours and muffled voices. Perhaps you should have listened to your partners when they told you to take a break earlier that week. A second later and you were slumped over in the arms of Robby.

"We need some help over here!" Whitakers' voice rang clearly throughout the ER. In a matter of seconds, you were lifted onto a gurney with a few helpful hands, a routine check being performed by Robby himself. Dennis looked awfully worried, panicked eyes staring at your pale face and then back to his other lover's calm one. It was a simple routine of checking your heart rate, blood pressure and sugar levels, two of the three being awfully high while the latter was awfully low.

Being in the hands of such capable doctors and nurses who unfortunately happened to be your friends, you were hooked up to monitors and left to rest in your own section of the emergency room. A few minutes had passed since they finished their routine checks when your eyes fluttered open. These lights really weren't helping your migraine now as you squinted to blur them. Your ears rang for a minute before the noise finally dissipated into the distant beeping and buzzing of electrical equipment.

"You're back," a warm voice hummed, a calloused hand gently pushing any hair from your eyes. After letting your eyes adjust momentarily, you were met face to face with puppy eyes and a worried frown. "Hey, huckleberry..." you mumbled, rubbing your face into his hand desperately trying to keep his warmth.

He sighed, shaking his head at your antics. "You really scared us back there," he spoke your name with such sternness that you paused, "Why didn't you take a break when you felt like shit?" The question was more rhetorical than anything.

There was nothing you could respond with, not immediately at least. He glanced towards the closed curtains. "I'm fine, Dennis," you sighed once more, "I can't just take a break whenever I want. I didn't even feel bad until I.. well, y'know..." It was embarrassing to admit that you had fainted at work, even if it was just your overwhelmed body trying to catch up on rest. You watched as Whitaker rolled his eyes, feeling the hurt radiate off of him. "You can talk to Robby about that; I'm not hearing your excuses. What would have happened if you fainted anywhere else? Like, I don't know, driving home after work?" He glared and you swallowed hard.

"Dennis, please- You know I am responsible when it comes to leaving work, I would have napped or waited for one of you," but that was not a good enough excuse for Dennis.

"Oh, really? Just like how you're so responsible with taking your breaks? We have them for a reason. Use them. I'm getting Robby." There was no attempt at being the last word, only a small nod and solemn frown. "I'm not mad at you," Whitaker spoke up once more, his tone much softer than before, "I'm worried about you, we both are. I'm frustrated at the situation."

He turned and you watched as he stepped out from your curtained corner of the ER. Hot tears brimmed your eyes, both from embarrassment and uncertainty that your lover wasn't just mad at you. You understood he came from the right place and that he was entirely right, but that didn't make it easier to hear. Quickly wiping away any stray tears, you sniffled and adjusted yourself, so you were sitting up slightly rather than laying down. The blue curtains moved as Robby pushed them aside, his face full of worry and a smidge of annoyance. Dennis must have spoken to him on the way back to you, although he was nowhere to be seen now.

"Michael-"

"You aren't returning to work for three days, and you aren't leaving here until Dennis finishes work. You can move to the employee lounge after thirty minutes." The older man mirrored Dennis' stern tone with a practiced version of his own. All you did was give a nod, turning away from his gaze. You chose not to argue; they were right after all.

"I'm sorry, really." You spoke up, a frown adorning your warmer features. Instead of being met with the same frustration and sternness as before, a pair of chapped lips gently brushed your forehead while a hand squeezed your shoulder. "Be sorry later, just rest for now." Michael hummed, giving you one last peck on the lips before standing again. "Whitaker needs to cool off, but he'll come check on you later. Rest, please." The corner of his lips turned into the smallest smile, and he slipped through the curtain once again.

You would simply rest until your boyfriend's shift ended and pray he would accept your apology on the way home.