Angsty - Blog Posts

Dogma Headcanon

When he was a cadet on Kamino, he was not the same reg-loving guy. He broke the rules, snuck food, classic cadet behavior.

*Obviously, Tup was his batchmate. They were the closest in their group.

ANYways, in a training sim gone wrong due to their team going off protocol, his entire batch besides he and Tup got killed. Tup suffered a head wound, which while didn’t cause significant damage then, is what got the ball rolling in his chip decaying. Dogma, on the other hand, only had minor damage.

After this, Dogma followed the regs more closely, but it still wasn’t to the full extent as we saw during the show. He stopped sneaking food, and he broke the rules less, but he was still a fun guy.

One day, Dogma accidentally overheard the Kaminoans talking about the chips. He ran away back to his bunk room, but not before being noticed by the Kaminoans.

Dogma was escorted to the lab, where the Kaminoans demanded to know what he had heard. Dogma, knowing better than to lie to a Kaminoan, told them. After gaining this information, they *reconditioned Dogma, but only of the information that they didn’t want him to know. Once the process was over, they threatened harm to his person if he ever told anyone what had just happened.

After this incident, Dogma became more reserved, and only talked to Tup. This is also when he became a target of bullying, which also contributed to his love for regs as they were the only thing (besides Tup) that never hurt him.

A few days before being shipped out to their battalions, the Kaminoans pulled Dogma to the side. As a final effort to scare Dogma into behaving, they threatened to harm Tup and himself if he ever disobeyed commands. After hours of threats and a deep cut curved around his eye (which Dogma eventually got his memorable tattoo to cover) Dogma promised to never speak of what had just happened.

His first battalion was serving with the 501st, and not even a year into his deployment the Umbara arc happened.

*Reconditioning. In this little au, I imagine reconditioning to be somewhat different than what is normally seen in Star Wars fics. The Kaminoans can select what clones can and cannot remember, and to what extent. Reconditioning is very painful and traumatic, and only works when the clone is awake. The more specific an event removal is, the more pain it causes. In Dogma’s case, they knew that removing his entire encounter with overhearing the Kaminoans would be useless, and cause eventual suspicion, so they just took out the part where Dogma heard what they were discussing.

+Something to note: the more a clone is reconditioned, the less stable their chip becomes. That’s why more clones are decommissioned than reconditioned, as the Kaminoans didn’t want their plans to be revealed. In Dogma’s case, after he was reconditioned, his chip stability decreased. During Umbara, Krell noticed something weird with Dogma, and when he did some force shit and found a link to manipulate Dogma using his chip (not that Krell new that’s what it was) he used this newfound knowledge for his own gain. He now had a clone that would listen to his command, and he could destruct the clones’ trust in one another. Throughout this all, Dogma was unaware of his or Krell’s actions, and only came to when Rex was hesitating to shoot Krell. After he shot Krell, his memories came rolling in, about what he did and what Krell did to him and everything else he witnessed during the Umbara arc.

If anyone wants to write something about this go ahead! Just put the fic and where I can find it in the comments so I can read it :)

the first thing you saw when you woke up was what seemed to be the infirmary, what happened..?

your head pounded still, so you didn’t move around too much. You were clearly laid down in of tge beds- you saw that were hooked up to some IV in your arm. carefully you sat up, against the wall behind you. what was this IV..? you couldn’t remember anything, besides passing out that is.

you heard the door open and close, but your eyes were closed as even the mere light from outside didn’t help your headache. you then felt somebody sit on the bed before speaking up.

“the hell were you thinking; pushing your body like that woman?” oh. it was Zoro.

“why would you care?” you groaned, opening your eyes to look at him. he seemed tense, there was eye bags under his eyes, yet he looked moodier than usual.

he glanced at you as he sighed, burying his face in one of his hands as he spoke. “because you’re my crewmate, idiot. you pushed it too far and your body practically gave up, you were out for two days straight.” he explained, you sat there quietly taking in this information.

“thought you’d be happy.” you scoffed, not caring to look at his bewildered expression that sat on his face as you spoke.

pt1

pt2

tags; @ghostfacefricker6969 @jellyslimesofficial

masterlist

The air was crisp, cold, lifeless.

Lifeless like the body of Satoru Gojo your husband, love of your life, is just lying in the battlefield. People dragging him away to get his body to use it. Like a fucking weapon.

Seeing a few tears roll down his face as his cursed energy kept him alive for a spilt second. Just watching the life die out of him, wrecks you to your very core.

You didn't even notice the warm drips of water roll down your face, as yours and his students fight Sukuna in the distance.

You might get Megumi back, your basically son but you'll never get over the fact that you won't get your sweet 'Toru back.

What shook you to your knees was seeing a candy rapper on the ground. His favourite.

He must've eaten them before the battle. He loved his sweets. And oh god he loved you.

Hearing screams, you wanna help but you can't because you're frozen, Stuck to the ground as you see his blood stains on the wet dirt.

_

Should I do a full one to this? Such a cute fluff 😋 (sorry y'all)

Master lists

I'm deforestation

quiz: are you a marsh, swamp, bog, or fen?

Now the poll is over so let's take a look at each angsty ship.

Murther:

Now, everything i know about Murther is from memes and texts posts and headcannons. So I might not know much about the show but I have pretty good idea about the ship.

The angst come from the secrets and the entanglement due to destiny. Being two half of the same coin that never really got to be one

And obviously the ending. Aurther died soon after finding out the truth i think. So we also never got them to be together being truthful. Essentially, it ended right when it was gonna get good. They were good for each other. They loved each other with such softness and inevitability.

But now one of them is dead. Leaving  the other to live on alone which is one the worst outcomes out there. It's angsty but not toxic. They should have been together but alas.

Johnlock:

My idea of ship comes from BBC Sherlock. Like Murther, Sherlock and John are actually good for each other. AND they get a happy ending. As angsty as it gets. There is a positive ending. They got together. They healed each other. They were what each of them wanted.

The angst comes from sacrifice (Sherlock) and denial (John) They are the most important people in each other's life.

Their ship can be summarized in this phrase.

"I will go to hell for you, I will come with you."

However, their angst also comes from codependency. They are good for each other but they also fall apart without each other. They need each other. Their presence don't just make them better, their absence also destroy each other. It's the need! The amount of need is proportional to the amount of angst you get.

Destiel: speaking of need. This ship is defined by need. They are the best version of each other when they are together and worst version of each other when they are apart. They hate their own self but find salvation in loving each other and caring for people.

They understand each other. Dean would fight anything and everything to protect Cas but Cas won't let him and will stay in purgatory away from dean to keep Dean safe.

They are each other's strengths. They are also each other's weakness and those around them know it.

Cas will defy his purpose, his existence, his faith in God, already has, for Dean. And Dean, becomes a monster when you take Cas out of the equation. But he'd still pray, he'd still beg, he'd fight through everything to get his angel back and they even has 'i need you' stand it for I love you and I just jejdmsjnsndbbsbbebsh

Hannigram:

now we are leaving the angsty romance waters and entering the self destructive toxic love waters.

This ship is blatant. They know there is love under that obsession and vulnerability. But they are just too fucked up. Their I love you Is 'I see you'

Hannibal and Will. They both go through life feeling alone. Singular creatures. Then they come across each other and they are no longer alone. They clash they destroy each other in their love and obsession for each other. And at the end. Will brings out the selflessness out of Hannibal and Hannibal brings out the animal in Will.

Their whole story is poetic and they aren't letting each other go. Hannibal is so fucking scared of vulnerability that comes with love. He tests Will. Hoping that will won't see him. That Will will only see what he projects, like everyone else. But damn he is bared. And Will tries to deny himself over and over again but he is hopeless. Hannibal tries to eat him and Will tries to get him killed. It's their stuff and at the end. Will accepts the monster inside and kills them. And finally Hannibal gets honest and let's Will destroy him.

Finally we have Kalmoash:

Their story hasn't come to an end. AND I am not sure how Moash's arc will end. But the obsessive destruction is there. They are too, two sides of the same coin. Kaladin took a path that Moash could not.

Kaladin had people he could rely upon. Moash was encouraged into destruction. Now the choice was his but that doesn't negate that at their breaking point Kaladin had friends and people who cared in the past that gave him the strength and positive outlook to make the right choice while Mosh lost the only family he had and his whole life, lived with distain. Then at his weakest moment had odium.

And Moash loves Kaladin while kaladin is our local Aro Ace fly Boi. And he calls moash his closest. (Used to.) And as angry as Moash was, He still says to kaladin that if you say no I will stop. Its the  momentum and series of wrong choices that separates them.

And even after giving everything up. Moash still has one thread that ties him to his humanity. (I know how that feels and maybe that's why Moash is the only character that I feel any kinship to.)

Their conflict comes from the fact that they are bound by their own thinking.

Moash in his skewed way, helping the man he loves. Odium wants Kaladin. Moash knows that. He also knows that Kaladin would rather be dead. The servitude of odium is no life so he wants to kill kaladin to save him a worse fate. But he also knows that no one can kill kaladin. So he baits Kaladin to kill himself. (Peak toxicity).

In his mind he is saving Kaladin and Kaladin i thinks hate only cause he can't accept the other things that he feels.

Now so far Kaladin hasn't tried to save Moash. But now maybe he will try and reach out. I doubt it but damn I want moash to get better. Become a radiant or even a bondsmith. Better yet.A SKYBREAKER.

Their relationship is essentially. "You betrayed me I have to hate you or I will love you" "I hate you I will save you by killing you." They have such strong passion for each other and it will destroy them.

But I am hopeful that sunshine Boi Renarin can save them.

Let the war begin

The last stretch.

Let the war begin

Kalmoah is at the bottom. And loosing. The funny thing is. It's the most toxic relationship in fiction. Hannigram and destiel got nothing on kalmoash in terms of toxicity. Maybe it will Win a toxicity poll. This goes to show how few people know about it. Will explore it in the next post.

Let the war begin

Let the war begin

Poor guy

Overwhelmed (Vinny x Garmadon) Part 34

(I suggest you check out parts 1-33 if you haven't already, and also sorry for not posting a lot I've been...busy)

(This chapter might have slight gore I woke up feeling angsty today)

"Y'know you're a really smart guy...but how the fuck do you wear these clothes?!" Enji laughed out before snapping his fingers and his clothes changing from the white shirt, blue jacket and dark green cargo pants into a dark red shirt, a black jacket with red lines across the bottom, black jeans and black boots. "That's way more comfortable~!" Enji said as he stretched. Vinny backed away more causing Enji to sigh and smirk.

"Are you that scared of me~? I feel so offended, I'm your friend~" Enji spoke out dramatically before crouching down to Vinnys' line of eye. "I introduced myself...your turn~" he added as he grabbed the cameramans' cheeks harshly causing him to jerk away. Enji stared at him as if he wanted an answer, "You clearly know who I am..." Vinny said as he looked away, this made Enji chuckle, "You're right...I do, I know more about you that you know of yourself~" the black haired menace spoke, causing Vinny to give him an annoyed look.

"Y'know....if it were up to me~.....I would have killed you already...." Enji hissed out his voice becoming more distorted and him grabbing Vinny by his collar. "But it isn't and frankly you are quite useful!" he added his voice returning back to normal. "Then why isn't up to you...what are you? A dog on a leash for someone?" Vinny hissed causing Enji to punch him in his face. "Fuck! Ouch!" the cameraman hissed as he used his hands to cover where he was punched.

"You're getting quite an attitude and I don't like that...but if you're that curious about who I am voluntarily working with...it's the cape guy you saw last time!" He responded to Vinny who backed down and went back to being quiet. Enji put on a black cape and let out a sigh, "I can't have you telling anyone about me..." He said before grabbing Vinny and throwing him to the floor. "I should put you in your place...."He added his voice slowly becoming more aggravated and violent. Vinny flinched and tried to leave but the door was locked.

Enji smirked before mist filled the room and he turned into an exact copy of Garmadon. "W-what the fuck...?" Vinny whimpered out before stepping away. "Something wrong?" Garmadon Enji said in Garmadons' voice. Vinny tensed, "Y-you're not real...a-and you're not him..." The cameraman whimpered out as he panicked more trying to open the bathroom door. "Are you scared of me...is it because I'm a monster..?" Enji said in disguise before grabbing Vinnys' chin.

"N-no no no no no....s-stop this...stop it!" Vinny panicked out before dropping to his knees. Garmadon/Enji smirked before transforming back, "You're caring so much now....but you clearly don't care about how he feels when you keep secrets~" Enji teased as he dusted himself off, "I-I thought you don't want me t-tell anyone..." Vinny whimpered out.

"You're right....I...I want our little secret to eat you up! To make you feel guilty about not telling anyone and to watch it slowly destroy you and all of the relationships you have with everyone!" Enji said with a sadistic smile on his face, causing Vinny to hide his face, "Awww....don't cry~ Especially when you're hiding your face" The sadistic figure laughed out before lifting up Vinnys' chin.

A blade appeared in Enjis' hand and he made Vinny look directly at him before grabbing the cameramans' hand before slowly digging the blade into it, a bone chilling horrifying scream escaped Vinnys' mouth and he tried to pull his hand away but Enjis' grip was too strong, "S-stop i-it!" Vinny cried out trying to pull away but that made the blade move more. He looked away and winced and screamed in pain. Enji grabbed his cheeks and made him look back at him his eyes now were blue again and he had the same sadistic smile.

"Oh this is so fun~! Don't you think~?!" Enji giggled out before taking he blade out and stabbing him again. "P-please! S-stop!" Vinny cried out letting out a choked sob. "I think we're doing it somewhere a bit too obvious~" He added before taking the blade out and then stabbing his foot causing another pained scream and for him to jerk away. "Don't move~" Enji chuckled out before pushing the blade in further, Vinnys' hands were covered in blood and he was holding his stab hand close, while crying out and screaming in pain for him to stop.

"Oh wow...I bet if I didn't make this room sound proof the whole monastery could have heard you~ And you're so dramatic~!" Enji laughed out before taking out the blade, "You're the one that stabbed me first~" He added trying to make it seem like this was Vinnys' fault. Vinny curled up in a ball as Enji continued to torment him.

(Told you I woke up feeling angsty gonna try and work on another part rn)

Regulus knew James would fight for him no matter what. That he would put himself in harm's way for Regulus, Death Eaters, and Dark Lord be damned. The only way he could think of to protect James was to absolutely make him hate him. Regulus put the performance of a lifetime, insulting Jame's best friends, saying horrible things about muggleborns and halfbloods and being a true imitation of his mother. James could only just whisper "please don't do this," but when Regulus cruelly insulted Remu's lycanthropy, he just couldn't do it anymore. James found comfort in Lily's arms, knowing that she too was heartbroken by Mary. Regulus had to watch the man he loved being in a relationship with the girl he told him not to worry about thinking that if James moved on so quickly, their relationship probably didn't mean anything to him. James had to go through the rest of his life thinking that Regulus hated him and trying very hard to hate him back but absolutely failing, because when he closed his eyes at night all he could think about was dark black curls and stars

Was thinking about, Cure for the Common Universe last night...

Almost cried.

Would recommend.

prayer scene, trembling amplified for feels

thnx and credit to op @judgehangman​ for all the tears caused.

“happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being, it’s in just saying it.”

“cas, i need to say something.”

This one of my OC's (credit to the original artist)

Name: Margarette Gertrud Liddell aka "Doll Face"

Age: 14

Birthday: october 31

Height: 4'10 (147 cm)

Sexuality: asexual attracted to women

Info: She developed schizophrenia at 5 years old and her shitty parents left her in a mental hospital and never came back.

One of the nurses of the hospital teached her black magic, she learned how to do hexes, cartomancy, necromancy and even blood and chaos magic.

At 12, her grandparents took costudy of her but they are very negligent, they left her alone for days, forget about her meds, etc.

She also has severe anxiety, she is bullied by half of the kids of the school and the other half are afraid of her because she always gets revenge.

The apocalipse started when she was running away, she managed to survive for 6 months until she got kidnaped by a group of survivors.

She is very quiet and sarcastic, most people doesn't know when she is saying the truth or not.

Curious fact: Maggie has an older brother who she knows nothing about, he runned away at 13, before she was born.

Likes:

Reading

Hexing her bullies

Being sarcastic

The people in the hospital aka the only exeception (she sees them as her family)

Psicology

Being smarter tha adults

Being alone

Dislikes:

People in general

Her biological family

The educative sistem

Her panic attacks

Being smol

Being touched

He doesn’t know what to make of it.

It’s ugly and it’s not, it’s beautiful and it’s not, it’s simultaneously everything he could have wanted and everything he dreaded.

She was leaving him.

She was leaving him, and wasn’t that fantastic? Wasn’t that horrible? Wasn’t that everything he could think of, alone but together with himself and a bottle that he could’ve sworn had fused to the callouses on his fingertips, had been superglued there and never ever left.

She was leaving him.

He still had his wedding ring, stuck to his finger in a different way than when you try on a ring and have to take it off with soap and water and time. It was stuck by the adhesive of his own mind. Trapped. He couldn’t take it off, couldn’t bare to pry it away.

She had taken hers off long ago, so why was his still stuck, like the bottle to his callouses and to his lips and permanent streams of saltwater that clung to his cheeks for days and days and days? Why?

All of his breaths were shudders and all of his thoughts were endless strings that never had a conclusion, an essay with an infinite word-count. He could still see the amber spilt on the floor through watery eyes, and still found it ironic that he was back to crying over spilt milk and spilt Jack Daniels and spilt tears and he was crying over everything and nothing and whatever was in between, so why did it matter anyways?

He clenched the bottle even tighter in his hand, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was alcohol and how much of it was his own tears at this point, and he knew he had to stop.

He had always known he needed to stop. He knew he needed to stop the first time he took a secret sip from beer in the fridge and the first time he had a serious hangover and the first time and the first time he met her and the first time she left him and the first time she came back and the first time she left a second time.

So many firsts. To him, the milestones didn’t matter a single bit. To him, all that mattered was that he didn’t have to care about what really did matter. And he was incredibly proficient at that in particular.

So he was good at knowing when to quit, but he was never quite as good at quitting. He was still stuck on that one time she smiled at him and she had looked so genuine, so real, and how she had looked just as real and tired when she said that she wanted a divorce and that she had had another.

She had another, didn’t she? Of course she did, she was always good at back-up plans and back-up-back-up plans. He knew it when she had a beer spilt on her shirt that neither of them liked (like the Jack Daniels on the floor and the milk knocked over to the ground and his heart to hell fires). He knew it when she came home with her lipstick smeared and with her eyes wild, he knew it when she stopped looking him in the eye and started looking at the wall behind him.

(The last time she looked him in the eye she told him straight to his face that she had another.)

(The last time he looked her in the eye he didn’t say a word.)

He stood up and slipped on the whiskey and prayed to whoever was out there that he wouldn’t be able to get up. It didn’t work.

It never worked, did it? Whoever was out there doesn’t care much for people like him anyway, and he could hear in the back of his head the whisper screams of ‘alcoholic’ and ‘acute mania’ his own screams weren’t loud enough. The shards of the bottles scattering everywhere when he smashed them to drown them out hid under his couch and beneath the coffee table to escape him and he understood why, because he was running from himself too, like her.

He didn’t know if there was a God anywhere.

you asked for an angst ask, is this enough angst for you?

so basically tim drake x reader where the reader is an vigilante who dies in tim’s arms 😌

Paring: Tim Drake x reader

Prompt: Prompt list ᜊ14-“Let. Me. Go.” “You know i can’t.”

Summery: When a mission goes wrong and your severely injured there’s nothing Tim can do to save you

Warnings: blood and gore, major character death, description of large wound, lots of blood, read at your own risk

A/N: i’ve been gone awhile but look i made you some content (Masterlist) i’m pretty sure i’m missing something but i can’t figure out what so if looks different from my other fics let me know

Word count: 2k

Too Little, Too Late

You were never supposed to be there. He warned you not to come but you never really listened to him anyway. He should have known it would take more to stop you.

It all started with the new drug going around. It gave the ultimate high with twice the mortality rate of any normal pill. Bodies were dropping quick and you wanted to do something about it. The plan was simple, first figure out where the drugs were coming from and second, stop it. Simple enough.

The only problem with your plan is that you were currently benched from the crime fighting scene. Apparently Batman's not a fan of teenage heroes who aren't the best at following orders, which was ironic considering how many he knew that fit that exact description. If you could just prove to him how good you were in the field he would let you fight. Right?

"You're not coming." Tim appeared at the door of your room. Of course he had already guessed your plan.

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop me," You shot back, stuffing your gear into a backpack. You still couldn't believe he was taking Bruce's side on this, he was supposed to be your wingman.

"This isn't safe," He stepped into the room. "It's not a game, there are consequences in the field."

"I know that Tim. I also know that I can save lives out there. I'm not some damsel in distress and I just need to prove it to him," You turned towards Tim with pleading eyes. He could stop you if he really wanted. You both knew it so your only option was to convince him not to.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a second before smiling slightly at you. "You're not gonna listen to anything i say are you?"

"You know me so well," You smiled innocently back at him. He would never be happy with your choice to fight but he wasn't going to get in your way which was more than enough for you.

"Alright, you win. I won't tell him you're coming but when he inevitably gets mad at you I'm not backing you up. Deal?" He stretched out his arm.

"Deal." You shook his hand with a wide grin on your face. Tim had been your best friend for years and you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to be more than that. He was your whole world, the reason you became a vigilante. You would do anything for him no matter how dangerous or scary because you knew he would do the same for you.

That night, as promised, Tim didn't tell Bruce about your plan to upstage his raid. You got there earlier than them and found a comfortable spot on the adjacent roof to watch from. The drug runners had a 25 man operation, all of which were carrying some heavy duty guns and clearly didn't skip arm day.

"8 on the left side, 6 on the right. 2 guys by the door, 8 pacing and 1 giving orders. If I slip in through the back and work my way forward I should be able to get by. Plus if batsy gets here when he said he would i'll only be on my own for about 10 minutes. Oh yeah, it's all coming together," You smirked to yourself putting down your binoculars. 

Of course you knew you couldn't take them all but that wasn't the point. All you needed to do was prove your skills for a short amount of time. Simple, easy, foolproof.

You slipped off the roof and made your way around the building. The lock to the back door was easy enough to pick and you snuck inside unnoticed. The first 8 men were boxing up the drugs and the next 8 were carrying them to the trucks while the 6 were loading the crates onto the trucks.

Ducking behind one of the crates you prepared yourself for the brewing fight. You peaked over the edge to get one last look at the men when something caught your eye. Inside the box, underneath a large batch of the drugs was something that looked like a bluish sort of metal that definitely wasn't pills. You quietly pushed the pills over and saw underneath were at least 10 very big, very scary, and very not earth originated guns.

"Holy alien gun smugglers Batman," you mouthed the classic Robin catchphrase in disbelief. "They've got a crime ring, inside of a crime ring-" you ducked back behind the box. "That's genius! Why didn't I think of that," you muttered a bit too loud. The man closest to you stopped what he was doing and listened.

You held your hand over your mouth to mask the sound of your breathing. If he saw you all hell would break loose and you'd probably be shot long before you could get away. The plan wasn't exactly going how you wanted and on top of that Batman was early. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the familiar pointy shadow pass over head.

"oh fuck me," you groaned and jumped out from behind the crate to kick the gun from the mans hand. This was just the distraction Bruce needed to jump down and scare the shit out of everyone.

"Oh hey Batman. Fancy seeing you here." You called across the room while dodging a punch. The cheery upbeat comments during an intense fight were always your favorite part of the job because of the looks your opponents gave you. Whenever you brought out the vaguely threatening yet happy voice Tim would laugh and that made you laugh so it was a win-win situation for everyone.

"We'll talk about that later!" Bruce glared at you for a moment before returning to the fight.

The truck, which had almost every box loaded on it already, turned on and started to pull away with 7 people inside. Batman jumped on the back just before it could accelerate all the way. He was whisked away leaving you and Tim to finish up here. "Well that was rude, he could have-gagh hey watch it- at least said goodbye," You interrupted yourself when one man swung his knife towards you.

"You're lucky he didn't chew you out on the spot!" Tim called back while fighting off his own group of lackeys.

You dodged and punched and kicked but in your distraction you didn't notice one man go for the leftover boxes and pull out one of the shiny alien guns. He clearly didn't know what he was doing and started pressing buttons at random. The gun went off and a blast hit the wall shaking the whole building. Then he pointed the weapon at Tim and fired.

He didn't see it. He didn't know it was coming and he couldn't stop it but you could. You just needed to get to him before it did. Your legs moved on instinct well before your mind could do anything. You watched the blast in slow motion like a scene in a movie. You called to him and he turned but it wasn't enough to avoid the shot.

Gloved hands collided with the yellow emblem on his chest and you pushed. You saw the light of the blast reflecting in his mask. One second you were watching Tim fall down in front of you and the next you couldn't see anything at all. The steering pain ripped into your side and threw you into a wall.

The shock left you paralyzed on the ground gasping for air. You tried to move but the pain only got worse. You heard Tim yell for you but you didn't have the strength to do anything about it. He kicked the gun out of the man's hands and hit him over the head. The last two men used the opportunity to run out of the building.

Blood was pooling underneath you, soaking into your uniform and staining your skin. Tim sent a distress signal and rushed over to you. He knelt beside you and gently turned you towards him with a panicked expression across his face.

"You're okay, alright you're gonna be fine." The words tumbled out in a rush. Clearly he was trying to sound calm but he couldn't control the rising fear in his voice. He looked down at the bloody wound trying to gauge the damage.

You finally got somewhat control over your breathing, enough to talk at least. "I probably, fuc- can't donate my k-kidney after this, can I?" You laughed slightly before hissing in pain.

"Well your humor is unscathed I see," Tim riflled through his utility belt and brought out a few small pills. Pain killers would do little against the massive slash that stretched around your side but until Batman got back that it was all he could do. You were losing too much blood for him to move you on his own.

"Oh please, it'll take more than this to shut my jokes down," You smiled weakly. "I mean seriously, a mystery gash-" you winced "-from a weird alien gun? Child's play, I've had paper cuts worse than this." You were rambling now and Tim knew that you rambled when you were trying to distract him from something.

It's what you'd always done. Distraction was your specialty. You could always fix things with a witty joke and the dumb smile you knew he loved. You always knew when he was upset and you always knew what to say. You always had just the right snacks in your secret stash. You always made Gotham feel like a city worth saving just because you were in it. Tim couldn't imagine a world without you.

Even now with pain taking over your mind you were trying to make him feel better.

"Red, if he doesn't get back in time-" you tried to speak but he stopped you.

"No. Don't do that, don't you dare." He didn't look in your eyes.

"Don't be stubborn."

"You're gonna be fine." He stayed focused on stopping the blood. "We'll get you back and fix you up in time for those stupid Law and Order reruns you watch at 4 am. You're not going to die now, you can't. I won't let you." His voice was breaking and shaky.

"Tim," You reached up and turned his face towards yours. You took off his mask and saw the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes. "Let . Me. Go."

He took your mask off as well. "You know I can't."

"I don't think it's your choice anymore."

The spots lining your vision got bigger, taking over your eyes. Your mind was racing and yet you couldn't hold on to any thoughts. A weird calm came over you, you still could feel the wound but it was also sort of numb. Tim's voice was more distant. You knew he was saying something, calling to you, but the words were blurry and then they just stopped

Tim didn't remember when exactly you had died. All he remembered was the way your eyes stopped moving and your chest stilled. He knew you were gone but he still didn't move from your side. Eventually Batman came back and found him holding you. Somehow Dick ended up there as-well and the two of them managed to get Tim home.

He barely talked or ate or even moved for 4 whole days. The next thing he remembered was your funeral. It was a closed casket due to the damage your body had suffered. Bruce had organized a nice ceremony for you, it had two parts. One for your parents and friends who still wondered how someone like you had turned into the unfortunate victim of a stray bullet, and a second one for the people who knew how you really died.

Tim was the last person there after everyone had gone. People tried but no one could convince him to leave. He didn't want to leave you, he didn't want you to be alone.

tag list: @artistichoodiegirl @battlenix @allielozoya @bloodyspade0000 @emmaandbucky @sleeqyxpqnda @Ice_0987 to be added click here

angst prompt fourteen for my previous ask 😌😌

bro i finally finished writing the angsty ass tim fic that goes with this ask but i can’t for the life of me figure out a name soooo if anyone has some good angst titles they’d want to share then i can finally post it :)

ladies, gents, gender neutrals, i beg of you, give me angsty tim/jason/dick fic recs

i want to be sad and inspired

also i’ve been throwing up for the past 26 hours so that’s not fun and i think i died at some point last night

Parents Ig

I just had a lowkey fight with my mom.

She is like „you need to see the happy in life otherwise you wont notice it“

And I am like „this world is shit, it’s breaking but I have to live with it and I’d rather take a good moment than faking and lying myself into how beautiful it is, cuz it isnt but I still love it. After all its the only world and life I’ve got.“

She doesn’t understand this, she dont want to.

But I still have the feeling with the both of us, I understand this world better and feel way more comfortable. Cuz I just have accepted it and not trying to idolize it.

And she is such a hypocrite. But yeah anyways..

When you’re a night owl and an early bird at the same time it’s destined that you are tired 24/7

It's a w.i.p. as of now but I'll be sure to finish it and try to draw it digitally if I can~Charlie

FOUND FAMILY TROPE SAVE ME, SAVE ME FOUND FAMILY TROPE

I’m Angry. Can You Tell?

I also write poetry. I prolly write more poetry than anything else really.

Anger is easy to feel.

Easier to manage than abandonment,

Easier to manage than bitter disappointment,

Easier to manage than crippling despair.

It is so easy to feel fiery fury,

And expect justice to soothe those flames.

It is so easy to be in denial

To cling to it.

To let it have you think things can be different,

That it can be better.

If only you are are angry enough, 

Passionate enough to command change in every facet of the universe.

So yes, anger is easy.

Easy to swallow,

Easy to let burn,

Easy to pull out and use as a shield.

It is easy as it is empty.

Fruitless in its gains

Barren in its answers

A tempting, hellish, warm, void for the lost who cannot deal with the cold, unfeeling nature of life.

And yet to embrace life as frigid is to surrender.

It is to resign yourself to a dreary, insipid existence,

An existence of the same ruthless, unwavering pain.

Rage cannot change circumstance,

But submission will yield no revolution.

Be enraged,

Angry,

Pissed,

Fucking furious.

For you burn bright as you do, if only for yourself.

  Be weary and disillusioned when there is nothing left but Death’s waiting hand,

Be weary and disillusioned when you can do no more. 

Yield your rage when there is nothing left to burn.

It is easy to be angry.

Easier than holding expectations,

Easier than nobility,

Easier than infinite patience.

And for peace, it is just.

i swallow

part 2 of mourning your reciprocation

before you came, i was tied to a desk and a chair by the binds of basic needs and oftentimes wants when i got a raise. it was a mere routine to arrive at work on time, a severe lack of sleep forcefully shoved away in my eye sockets, only to return home countless hours later with body-crumbling exhaustion from overtime. but no matter how tired or worn out i was and no matter how much workload there was, i didn’t shed a single tear, because i knew all too well that such was life. or so i thought. a true life wasn’t a routine. to live and to exist bore stark differences. it wasn’t often that i found myself living, until i met you.

cooperation was what i always tried to achieve in group projects, in fear of being frowned upon with scornful gazes and disdain for not trying hard enough. that fear took my teammates into account, but in competitions, it overwhelmed me to an extent of completely disregarding rivalry. that left me unaware to those prying eyes that were waiting for the right moment to flip the tables. alas, what good was it to put my heart and soul to our first project when all of my hard work was for naught after the opposing team sabotaged the files that i was in charge of?

my tear-stained face hit face-first against the messy blankets under a tilted pillow that i attempted to lower the back of my head on. all the strength i had left after work was already used up for dragging myself up the bed. this was one of those moments that i felt like i could truly live. because it was hard to breathe when i laid this way that i realised, one by one, how the only thing that wetted my cheeks at this hour used to be a cold energy drink, how amazing it would be to be able to breathe when i suffocated, and how you would’ve rubbed soothing circles on my back, wordlessly yet affirmatively lying by my side as i bury my face in your collarbones.

no, no. i can’t afford to think of you right now. not when you just peered down at me, all disgusted and utterly hateful as if i was nothing but dirt. oh, please, if only you saw those foxes snooping around like i did, you would be standing my ground and supporting me… like before. you always would have. you’d have believed in my pleas unlike the others. those scoundrels were no different from each other with their ignorance, never failing to put everything on my shoulders then shun me for getting tired. was it on me to prevent the selfishness in human’s nature that was vulgarly rooted to the corrupted core? damn them all to hell!

i couldn’t even find ways to make it up to you because how on earth could i when you wouldn’t even spare a glance my way? frustration pooled a helpless desire in my guts to thrash around or punch just an ounce of pain out, but my limbs had reached their limits, so i cried harder instead, though my eyes were starting to sting painfully. i hated the wet burn that my hot tears made on these freezing cheeks, smeared all over my pillow and almost biting away at my face from how it hurt so badly, it hurt being misunderstood by you so much that i could die. but this excruciating pain told me that i was still alive.

because feeling pain was what it meant to be alive, i’d rather that night, after swallowing the hurt whole, i’d fall into a sleep that i would never wake up from.

W.I.P of an animatic thing i'm doing. its gonna be about hank, and its also gonna be kinda sad/angsty because i like bullying fictional characters :)

It all feels the same

I loathe Heroine.

I loathed her ever since the first time I saw her. From the very first flashy, dumb grin she flashed at me.

I loathe the littered freckles on her cheeks and the red, long scar that went over her jawline. The dark circles under her eyes and her forever messy curly hair.

I loathe her stubbornness. How she shows up every day. How she manages to get up every time. How convinced she is that her actions truly matter. How she fights for each pathetic person, as if each and every soul was so precious to her.

I loathe the way she pretends. Pretends to be confident. Pretends to be in control. Even when she is hurt and anxious and so obviously tired. How she comforts every victim, when she can barely calm herself. How she smiles softly, even at me. As if I were that easy to fool.

I hate her for rescuing me. 

She threw herself into the water. She pulled me up to the shore. She stayed until I sat steadily. Then she left. Not even giving a demand or a price or a reason.

I hate how she laughs at my jokes. As if we were friends. As if I actually make her smile.

I hate her most when it’s just the two of us. Hate how calm she gets. Hate how much she underestimates me. How calmer she gets.

And I was angry when I found her lying in the cold. Angry at her recklessness and bravery and passion, that forced her to never back down. Angry that I had to drag her out of there. That she used me for warmth. That she looked so comfortable. 

I get angry when she doubts herself. 

Because I know just how harder my life has been ever since she came to it. I know how kind she is in her greatest victories, I know how purposeful she is in her darkest hours, I know her better than everyone.

I was angry at her lover the moment I met her.

Angry at this feeble, laughable, fool who seemed to think she deserves Heroine. I got furious when she approached me. The idiot smiled and offered her hand.

I pushed it right away. I shoved her past me and wanted to walk away, to wait until she realizes just how useless she is to everyone. Wait until she leaves my and Heroine’s life. 

But she dared to keep talking. Dared to say she understands me. Dared to say Heroine’s name.

I lashed out at her. 

I yelled that she has no right to tell me about Heroine. That she’ll never know Heroine like I do.  That she is just lonely and desperate enough for Heroine to pity. That she would never truly love her.

I was pulled to the ground, and saw Heroine above me.

I could barely recognize her face. There was so much loathe and hatred and anger in her stare. I never saw her like this, not when she fought the worst of villains, not in the most stressful situations and not when I was in danger.

She told me to stay away from her lover.  That otherwise she will kill me.  That she doesn’t want to see me ever again.

She only stopped when my eyes started to water. I couldn't tell anymore what expression she wore, but I saw her leaving.  Panic rose through me, and I called her name. Begging her to stay.

She looked back at me, and for the last time, I saw her clearly. There was no malice nor pity in her eyes. Only disgust.

I loathed myself ever since.

Honestly, no clue what this is supposed to be from but I remember this Zombie apocalypse concept my cousin came up with and heres a basic summary of it.

Its the early 50s and a new pill has just come out, it says that it can increase masculinity in men and so since its the sexist 50s its a big hit. However this pill has the side effect of long term use causing the user to be turned into a zombie(dont remember how, she didnt explain it very well), and since all men are zombies now the women have to rise up and find a cure.

Yeah, thats kind of it. Also this is inspired by a verson of Sweet Caroline but with gunshots. So.... Yeah

When I draw something angsty, I honestly don’t really put a meaning behind it.