Oc Angst - Tumblr Posts

This is an old scrapped idea of mine I had to connect A Dance With The Devil and Unobtainable on AO3. It had been fermenting in my mind for a week and a half before I actually wrote it out. I originally intended for ADWTD to be an oc x canon fic with Izzy and my oc Killian (Illya, as referred to in the oneshot) as a kind of short almost "one night stand" kind of things before Illya's story progressed back to his original ship. Now, this is only a oneshot, not gonna be more than that because oc x canon just doesn't do it for me anymore.

Please be brutally honest with me- I know it's cringe and weird, but I actually really like this one.

Sobbing violently

I wanna see Strandy in a Situation™ but I don't have any ideas :(

How about him grieving the loss of his best friend (a haunted doll) after the fear apocalypse ( @fantasist-art )

Made the backstory of Emily. I want all 3 of the polys to have some sort of trauma in their past cause... why not!

Mr. Bentle

Summary - Emily's past, starring Mr Bentle.

Warnings - sexual assault, homophobia, pedophilia, recovering rape victim, poly! relationship, gn! character, metions of being a stripper, crying, angst, a bit of fluff at the end, child neglect

Words - 1408

When I was a child, everyone thought something was wrong with me. They thought it was weird that I told adults that their jokes weren’t funny, when I didn’t smile, and for having little to no interest in boys. 

In my small hometown in the mostly barren North Dakota, everyone knew me as the town weirdo. I didn’t really mind. I didn’t care when the girls called me names and wrote stuff on my locker. I ignored the silence that would ensue every time I would walk into a room. 

That was all before I had come out as pansexual. After, it wasn’t just teenagers that bullied me. I had grown men and women calling me slurs on the daily. My teachers would completely ignore me. And my parents? They didn’t want to have anything to do with me. To them, I was a fuck up. A mistake that they tried to erase.

The only person that really seemed to care was my dance teacher. Mr. Bentle was the first person I came out to, and he took it in stride. Unlike all of my other relationships, nothing really changed between Mr. Bentle and me… or at least I had thought so.

~

“Emily, you’ve done this routine thousands of times. What’s going on with you today?” Nothing was wrong. I just happened to have a medium-sized laceration on my foot that might have been affecting my movement. It seemed when I left my dance bag at school this Wednesday, someone slipped something sharp into my shoes.

“I apologize, Mr. Bentle. I-” Before I knew it, Mr. Bentle had stridden across the room. His warm breath tickled my neck as he repositioned my arm from behind.

“Like this, Em,” It took him a little longer than usual to back away from my form, “Let’s try to keep that arm there, yes? Again!”

~

That was only the beginning. His lingering touches turned to caresses and then something different altogether. Me being me, I didn’t realize what he was doing. I merely thought he was being kind; it’s not like I had anything to compare it to. When he would invite me over to his house to “hang out”, I thought the touching was normal. I didn’t particularly like it but, he was the only one who cared for me.

Soon, my dance classes turned into inappropriate sessions with Mr. Bentle. This is when I started to realize that something had to change. I love dancing. I’ve been dancing since I could stand up on my own, so I wasn’t fond of losing this time to do my only passion. 

I know now that it wasn’t a good idea, but I asked Mr. Bentle to stop with the caresses and heavy petting. Maybe I should have asked for help, but who would have helped me? Plus, I thought he would have just stopped if I told him I was uncomfortable because I thought he cared.

~

I have no nerves as I walk into Mr. Bentle’s studio. What’s there to be nervous about? This is going to go just how I planned it; I’ll ask Mr. Bentle to resume my lessons and we’ll get on with it. 

“Mr. Bentle,” I start when I see him already sitting toward the back of the studio, “can we please talk?” Mr. Bentle smiles and pats the spot beside him. I sit down and his hand gravities to my thigh. He gives it a gentle squeeze and looks me in the eye.

“What’s going on?” His face is open and nurturing. It almost distracts me from the feeling of his hand drawing higher on my leg.

“I would like to continue my dance lessons, sir,” his grip tightens on my thigh, “I understand that you care for me and I like you too, but I like dancing more than anything. I would rather do that than just hanging out.” His face is no longer open and kind. It is now filled with malice and indignation. I don’t understand why.

“You wanna break up with me?” He sneered.

I was confused, “Since when were we dating?” That made him angrier. The hand that didn’t have my thigh in a death grib went to my upper arm. He wasn’t gentle. I knew it was going to brusie, so I tried to pull away.

“Stay still, bitch,” he spat, “You wound me. After all I’ve done for you, you don’t want to be with me?”

My back touched the seat of the couch as he towered over me. For the first time since I started classes with him, I was scared of him. I’m never scared of anyone. It’s one of my odd traits, I didn’t feel as much as other people did; however, my instincts decided now was the right time to have fear kick in.

His hand traveled up my stomach and onto my chest, “W-what are you doing?” He huffed in annoyance. My heart felt as if it was going to beat out of my chest and I struggled to breathe. I wasn’t sure if my breath stuttered because of my fear or Mr. Bentle’s hands groping on my chest. 

“Just stay quiet. We’ll call this a little apology for breaking up with me.”

~

Anyone with common sense should know what occured in Mr. Bentle’s studio that day. When I had gotten home later at night, my parents had scolded me for staying out past my curfew. They had no idea that it wasn’t my fault at all. 

I went on with my life like normal after that, except without any dance classes. I took it upon myself to dance on my own. You couldn’t really tell I had been raped. The only sign was that I stopped doing ballet, the dance style Mr. Bentle had taught me. It made me sick to even look at the photos of me in my tu-tu that were scattered around my room.

When I turned 18, I left the small, confining town of North Dakota. I didn’t turn back and I never will. I grew to realize through my friends and partners that there was nothing there for me anymore. I’m not sure if there was ever anything there for me.

I turned away from classic dance entirely and started doing a more… provocative type of dance. It helped me release anger and sadness that I never knew I had and the sway of my hips and the cold touch of the pole made me feel free. It was the opposite of the seering hot touch of Mr. Bentle’s hands.

Being with Agatha and Francis, I’ve become more in touch with how I’m feeling. I know how to identify when I’m sad or angry, and if I’m paying attention, I can pick those feelings up on other people. I’m still blunt and straightforward. Francis said I should never get rid of this trait because she loves seeing me piss people off. Agatha needs that kind of straightoforwardness because they hate reading inbetween the lines.

Do my partners know what happened to me? They know to an extent. They know were I grew up and how I was treated… and they know of Mr. Bentle. They don’t know what he did; they both assume it was some popular upperclassmen, and I don’t plan on telling them it was him. Even though he did something terrible to me, I won’t ignore the fact that he opened me up to a whole new world of something I still love dearly; dancing. He encouraged me to dance even when my parents refused to pay for it, and even if that was for some malicious reason, I won’t let myself forget that. 

I will never thank him or be thankful to him. I will never put his name in a positive light and I avoid talking about him in general. He hurt me. Me, only 15 and him the age of 34. I won’t forgive him, but I’ll never forget him.

“Em, you can still come to dinner, right?” Francis called from their shared bedroom. Emily was sat in the living room and was staring down at her paper with a blank face.

“Emily?” Agatha lifted Emily’s face and wiped away tears she hadn’t known were there, “Are you okay?”

“I-” she paused, thoughts going back to the studio. The sizzling hot heat of his hands. Him, “I’ve let him go.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Bentle.”

Somehow Supernatural

Chapter 2: It's All Starting to Feel Real

Tags: poc!oc, gn!oc, teen!oc, panic attack, heavy cursing, Dean always needs his own warning, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of anxiety, Cas not taking a hint, Deanstiel (or whatever the fuck Dean and Cas's ship name is), general chaos

Summary: The Winchesters and Cas have a meeting about Casey. It doesn't go too well, and Casey realizes what shit their stuck in.

Words: 2,675

I kinda felt like I was gonna vomit. Not because I needed to vomit, but because my tum-tum was doing flips and turns like a fucking rollercoaster due to my crippling anxiety. Usually, I would do little exercises that helped me regulate like my mom taught me, but that just reminded me that I was in a different universe where I might not be able to see my mom - or anyone I knew in real life - ever again. These consistent, little thoughts did not help my already upside-down stomach.

I was sitting in the bunker, in the room with the table that has the big map of the world. I liked to call this room the “meeting room” when I watched the show because… they met people in the meeting room. Come on, it was like the foyer of the bunker so everyone had to pass through it to fight and argue and shiz.

Anyway, I was sitting in the meeting room surrounded by men that I never thought I’d ever meet in person. Maybe the reason for my anxious tum was because of the “omg-smexy-men-are-staring-at-me” effect. If so… give me an anxiety stomach ache every day.

Dean sat straight across from me at the map table. Even though he wasn’t in pouncing position anymore, he was still on guard; which, I mean, valid. All that shit he’s gone through definitely made him a tough cookie. 

Castiel was standing right behind Dean’s chair like a guardian angel. I mean, literally right behind. He was basically breathing down the hunter's neck. Maybe he liked the smell.

And Sam.

Oh. Sammy. Boy!

He had his ass sat directly on the table and was staring at me in wonder. Sam’s hair was hanging in his face at an angle that was just… perfect. It was also the perfect length, not short enough to make him look like he was 15 and not long enough where he looked crusty. Did I mention that he looked fucking perfect? Honestly, if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought Sam was the angel.

No offense, Cas.

All three attractive men were gathered around the meeting table to discuss me. Me! I was kinda feeling myself and basking in the attention that I was getting from multiple hot men before I realized something a bit alarming.

Dean, Castiel, and Sam… were deciding what to do with me. I wouldn’t put it past Dean if he decided to kill me or abandon me in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a father instinct for just some random teen.

…or maybe whoever’s body I’m occupying is important to him.

“Y’all gonna talk or just stare?” I asked. Yes, during my whole internal monologue full of ogling men and withering away from anxiety, not a single person talked. They gave each other looks, but they didn’t utter a word. 

Someone finally decided to speak up after realizing how weird they were being.

“So…” Sam started. He had his hand thoughtfully under his chin. I thought I might mention it because it almost took me out, “You just appeared out of nowhere?”

“I mean, I guess so. I’m just as confused as you guys are,” I spin in my chair, “Honestly, I thought I was just having one of my regularly scheduled psychedelic dreams but then, I woke up with Dean in my face.”

“A dream?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, dude, a dream. I was basically floating in this void and then I started hearing someone telling me to wake up and then… Dean’s face.” I took another twirl in my chair. 

The guys looked like they were trying to solve a puzzle. They had their thinking caps on full blast, you should have seen their faces. 

“Did you try the usual holy water, sliver, cross stuff?” Sam turned to Dean in question.

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

I get trying to make sure I’m not a bad type of baddie, but he could have used his non-dominant hand so it wouldn’t be as hard cause damn. That shit really hurt.

“They didn’t try to attack you?” Sam continued.

“No.”

“Then, I think we should be good for now. We can let them stay here since they seem discombobulated,” Bless you, Sam. You’re the greatest of all these fuckers.

“But if they try anything, they're out,” Cas nodded along with Dean’s words. The angel barely even looked like he was listening to what Dean was actually saying, “And if we figure out you were lying about who you are, I will find a way to send you to hell. Trust me.” 

Go shit on a brick, Dean. And you too Cas, agreeing with Dean like a lost puppy. 

“Okay…” I muttered. I didn’t really like the idea of dying, especially if it was in someone else’s body, but what could I have done? Said no? Been kicked to the curb? I’m not really worth anything to them so-

…wait.

“You never told me, whose body is this?” 

All of a sudden, it got a little awkward. Sam’s cheeks were pink and Dean was avoiding my eyes. Even Cas looked a little weird.

“Well-” Dean started.

“We-” 

“Sam found the kid on a hunt and couldn’t help but save them. They almost died, but Sammy got Cas to heal them,” Dean blurted. Sam’s face turned a dark red now that the truth was out to the masses.

“W-well you cared about them enough to train them!” Sam retorted. Now it was Dean’s turn for a red face. 

“You brought them stacks of books!”

“You made them your big bacon breakfast…three times! I can barely get you to cook for me!”

“You eat salad. I’m not making a fucking salad for a meal!” 

“It’s good for your body! Your body will rot away from all the red meat you eat!”

“At least I’m not eating rabbits' food!”

“You know,” Cas finally piped up, “The kid was bound to die.”

Silence. Damn, dude. That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? From what I heard just now, the Winchester brothers really liked this kid. It kind of makes me feel bad for pushing them from their own body, but… what was Cas saying?

“They were meant to die the night of the hunt. Right on the floor of their living room where you found them. It was their fate. It was a miracle I was able to heal them and it was almost impossible for them to survive a month like they did,” Sam and Dean were getting pissed. Castiel - bless his heart - didn’t seem to notice, “They were never supposed to have formed relations with you two because you weren’t supposed to meet them while they were still alive.”

Poor Cas and his sucky communication skills. Now due to his harsh words, the angel’s collar was being winkled by Dean’s man hands. Castiel didn’t look alarmed at all. I wasn’t sure if it was because Dean was a mere human or because the majority of the Supernatural fandom was right about these two.

“Shut up,” Dean seethed. Sam was hovering behind Dean either waiting his turn to get a lick in or making sure Dean didn’t take it too far. I was now feeling really bad because this was all making a bit of sense. I finally understood why Castiel didn’t seem fazed by my sudden appearance, why he’s been saying all this shit about how this person should be dead already.

Speaking of Castiel, he was just letting Dean choke him up against the table. I knew he didn’t really need my help in the situation, but I was starting to feel a little awkward just sitting there. It’s way different seeing these men fight when they’re on screen and I’m in a whole other world looking like a mole rat on my couch. 

With courage that I didn’t know I had, I muttered, “Guys… I need to take a shit. Real bad.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at me in… surprise? Disgust? Both? It didn’t really matter what they thought of my statement, all that mattered was Castiel’s insensitive words were forgotten. For now.

Fingers combing through his hair, Sam sighed, “Come on then,” he said, walking off. He expected me to follow him and I did. To the best of my ability. He’s got long fucking legs, so he’s got even longer fucking strides. I had to practically run and I’m of average height!

Sam finally stopped at the door to the bathroom. I didn’t actually have to shit, but I figured I could use this opportunity of aloneness to recoup, realign, and do all things zen. 

Closing the door to the bathroom, I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. Today was one of the weirdest days of my life. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad weird yet, but it was weird. I never thought I would travel to a different universe. I never thought I would ever meet the Winchesters. I never thought I would get to walk with my own two feet - mostly - through the bunker that I’ve adored for years. 

What the hell brought me here? I wasn’t really complaining, but I still have to wonder. Was this planned? Was this person’s body kept alive for me to go in it? Do I have to save this world somehow? Am I connected to something here? Was this fate like Castiel mentioned?

I sat on the toilet seat feeling pretty lost. I wasn’t sure why it was so bright in the fucking bathroom, but it was bothering me so I slammed my face onto my lap. It was dark and warm and what I really needed at the moment. 

I know, a really sharp change in my emotions, but that’s just how it be sometimes. Perhaps being alone right now wasn’t the best decision. Usually, being alone worked, but now it felt like there were 20-pound weights on my shoulders, and it was getting kind of hard to breathe. It was also really hot, so I started squirming on the toilet seat like that was gonna cool me off.  I don’t know what I thinking because that’s not how heat works.

Then, I thought I could sit on the floor and continue my deep ponder about how the fuck I got into this situation, but I finally realized I was having a panic attack and didn’t really want to move. I found that if I moved, I would black out or it would be 10 times worse, but who knows, maybe this body works differently.

So, I moved to the floor. The floor was nice and cool, but then I started thinking about spiders because I was on the floor in an underground bathroom and spiders here really made sense. I wanted to get back on the toilet, but my body didn’t wanna listen. So now, I was a lump of a human on the bathroom floor that was probably shivering, but I couldn’t really feel my body anymore.

I wonder why when my body’s panicking my thoughts are calmer than when my body’s not panicking. It doesn’t really make sense. Like, none of my thoughts were screaming at me or telling me to do stupid shit. They were just calmly saying stuff like ‘you should get up’ or ‘there might be spiders here’ or ‘your probably gonna die, but take your time’. 

Yeah, the calm thoughts were definitely worst.

Now I recognized the feeling of tears falling down my face and I felt pretty pathetic. I mean, what the fuck was I crying for? Nothing was wrong. They hadn’t killed me yet. I’d always wanted to travel to another world, but I guess my body couldn’t take it. Wait! This wasn’t even my fucking body!

“So goddamn pathetic,” I wheezed. My right cheek was pressed against the floor and when I talked I could feel the tears smearing all over the place and it gave me the ick, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying. 

I love to mention the fact that I have a superiority complex, but I never talk about the opposite of that. My dandy ‘you’re a fucking loser and will never do anything in your life’ complex. It always sneaks up on me at the worst times, like when I’m supposed to be enjoying myself in another universe for crying out loud, and makes me feel more worthless than - fucking - everything. It makes me wanna crawl into a hole and never come back out.

Feeling worthless and having a panic attack simultaneously isn’t the best. It means not only can you not breathe, but you also don’t feel like trying. So, I laid on the floor of the bathroom and didn’t do any of the breathing exercises that my therapist taught me. I just waited to black out.

“Hey, kid, you doing okay in there?” Sam’s voice sounded so far away. I could barely hear it. My lungs were starting to hurt from lack of air, so I curled my aching body into a pathetic little ball.

Pathetic.

“Did you hear me?” Sam sounded. I didn’t move a muscle. I wasn’t surprised when I heard his footsteps getting farther from the door. Of course, he would abandon me. Even I would abandon myself. I was so damn pathetic that I didn’t deserve to be cared for.

Bang!

“Kid! What the hell?” Sam’s voice was now closer. Was it odd that I could smell him? Was I really that desperate for someone that I was imagining things?

So fucking pathetic.

Strong arms lifted me off the floor. I was now pushed against a firm chest and not cold tiles. I don’t think I was imagining this, but I wasn’t gonna get my hopes up. I couldn’t see much because of the tears, so I just snuggled deeper into Sam’s flannel.

More footsteps approached. More voices.

“What the hell happened?”

“They were in the bathroom and I heard sobbing, but they wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Are they hurt?” 

“No, I think they’re having a panic attack.”

“A what?”

“A panic attack, Dean. I’m just gonna get them to lay down somewhere other than the floor.”

“The floor? Did they pass out?”

Sam brushed my hair back to see my face, “Maybe. They’re awake now.”

When we got to the couch, Sam put me down and crouched in front of me. He was looking into my eyes while I was trying to look at his. 

“Breathe with me,” Sam whispered gently. 

I tried to do what he said, but my lungs were burning. Every breath I tried to take would come out shaky or devolve into a sob. Sam slowly took my hands, giving me a chance to pull away, and continued breathing with me. It took a while, but soon I was breathing steadily and my crying had stopped.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

I nodded.

“You want some water?” 

I nodded again.

“Dean?” Sam turned to his brother that was standing behind him, “Mind getting them some water?”

Before Dean could move Castiel appeared with a glass of water in hand. I hadn’t even noticed he had left. The angel handed me the glass and while I gulped it down, he stayed hovered over me. He looked really worried, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Does this happen a lot?” Sam questioned. His hand was still holding one of mine. It was comforting.

“Yeah,” I croaked, “No big deal.”

“Is there something wrong with them?” The shorter brother asked.

“Nah, I’m just kinda sensitive,” I huffed, “Kind of hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with that in this body.”

“Sorry you have to,” said Sam, “I know how it feels.”

Well, well, well. One of my personal headcannons was true. 

I gave Sam a smile and finally let go of his hand. I didn’t really wanna talk about this anymore.

“So, you guys got anything to eat?”

I used my own experience with panic attacks to write the scene in this chapter, so if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

AN: loved this chapter sm. I really like the tone of this fanfiction and I'm gonna try to keep it like this so when it gets dark... well- it doesn't get too depressing.

Hope you enjoyed!

enko girl angst animatic || ninjago oc x cc

I heard this song off of tiktok at first and instantly thought about my ninjago oc(shiro) & lloyd and i had an idea of making this angst animatic of them—

I had to make a separate au for it but- In short- Shiro dies and Lloyd is having a really hard time grieving. I might make a small angst fanfic of them because of this.

—

i hate this stupid fucking app with a passion

“he loves me, he loves me not” (small snippet of me writing)

seeds of sick adoration ripped and thrived in his throat, tears of bittersweet honey ran down their tanned cheeks as they hunched over the garbage bin.

their grip on the bin was as deadly as the grip the disease had on their poor body.

white daisy petals slicked with blood and saliva, they stained all that they touched, harmed the body they grew within.

pollen coughed and heaved its way out of the scarabia student’s body, iyad wasn’t allergic, but this time pollen was deemed fatal for them.

for every time they met eyes, another seed was planted.

for every conversation they shared, the sprouts would extend to stems.

the dreadful silence between the pair would act as bees, buzzing to nurture the growing vines, encouraging them to bloom flawlessly.

the botanical properties fought endlessly to leave iyad’s throat, leaving them bruised and poisoned for their fault.

iyad’s mind spins as the haunting story that implied that flowers, the flowers tell you if he loves you or not.

iyad looks down at his garden. he closes his eyes. 5 white, blood stained petals.

“he loves me…”

“he loves me not…”

“he—“

”Iyad?!”

—

how is it? is it good or cringe

anyways, none of my ocs are safe from me💗

tag list: @venaue @babyghoul138 @beneathsakurashade /nf i just wanted to have some moot opinions

parallels hurt.

carla -> how fake i am, switching to accommodate friendships so they don’t get weirded out by me— i don’t want to be alone— i don’t want to be who i was before, i hate her, im ashamed

iyad -> how i struggle to care about things, im detached to so many things i feel like i should care about— how i felt nothing when my friend genuinely was hurt (indirectly) by me

ryuuni -> how i hate doing the same things over and over again, i hate it when the rules change in front of me

kora -> being bored with life— being constantly told that i have potential, that the only thing im missing is passion and effort

these are the things my ocs reflect, i like seeing myself in media

“he loves me, he loves me not” (small snippet of me writing)

seeds of sick adoration ripped and thrived in his throat, tears of bittersweet honey ran down their tanned cheeks as they hunched over the garbage bin.

their grip on the bin was as deadly as the grip the disease had on their poor body.

white daisy petals slicked with blood and saliva, they stained all that they touched, harmed the body they grew within.

pollen coughed and heaved its way out of the scarabia student’s body, iyad wasn’t allergic, but this time pollen was deemed fatal for them.

for every time they met eyes, another seed was planted.

for every conversation they shared, the sprouts would extend to stems.

the dreadful silence between the pair would act as bees, buzzing to nurture the growing vines, encouraging them to bloom flawlessly.

the botanical properties fought endlessly to leave iyad’s throat, leaving them bruised and poisoned for their fault.

iyad’s mind spins as the haunting story that implied that flowers, the flowers tell you if he loves you or not.

iyad looks down at his garden. he closes his eyes. 5 white, blood stained petals.

“he loves me…”

“he loves me not…”

“he—“

”Iyad?!”

—

how is it? is it good or cringe

anyways, none of my ocs are safe from me💗

tag list: @venaue @babyghoul138 @beneathsakurashade /nf i just wanted to have some moot opinions

parallels hurt.

carla -> how fake i am, switching to accommodate friendships so they don’t get weirded out by me— i don’t want to be alone— i don’t want to be who i was before, i hate her, im ashamed

iyad -> how i struggle to care about things, im detached to so many things i feel like i should care about— how i felt nothing when my friend genuinely was hurt (indirectly) by me

ryuuni -> how i hate doing the same things over and over again, i hate it when the rules change in front of me

kora -> being bored with life— being constantly told that i have potential, that the only thing im missing is passion and effort

these are the things my ocs reflect, i like seeing myself in media

continuation of last Iyad’s Hanahaki post

Genre: fluffier than what ever happened last time

notes: wtf did i make, unfinished bc i dont have energy

Silver was tense to open the door, Jamil and Kalim were already acting in a very concerning way.

apparently they called his father, who relayed the information to silver. though relay is a generous word for it, cause lilia barely spoke an explanation after waking him up.

“Iyad’s feeling.. rather under the weather, why don’t you pay him a visit?”

his father was being so mysterious about it…

and that’s what silver’s here for, to be a good friend, but his initial worry amplified to the max when he saw the faces of Iyad’s peers.

the whole dorm felt very apprehensive, like everyone was collectively on edge. but now wasn’t the time to dwell for silver, his father has always preached the importance of bravery, especially when others are scared.

silver slips the door open, entering the still room, his blue eyes were immediately drawn to the bump in the bed.

“iyad.. are you alright?”

“go away”

his tone was sharp and angry, in a way it was reminiscent of their previous few conversations.

iyad was becoming distant towards silver, cutting their conversations short, their demeanor became rigid with awkwardness, their relaxed interactions soon became strained and forced, nothing like how they started out.

it hurt to think about for silver.. and for iyad.

silver walked over to the bed, pulling out the desk chair, sitting next the bump. a silence blanketed them both, the air was stuffy.

silver perked up when iyad shuffled under the covers, peeking their eyes out of from under the covers. silver couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn from the look they gave him.

iyad’s eyes, once filled with stoic nonchalance, now colored in with a guarded expression, nothing like it was before, now these eyes…

those weren’t the ones he fell in love with.

those eyes were kind, adoring, hardworking, calm. they warmed silver’s heart and cheeks whenever they met.

but.. but these eyes. they only sent a small shiver down his spine, rattling him out of motion. but even so.

“what happened? everyone’s says you’re sick..”

“it’s fine, i’m fine, why are you here?” iyad hissed through his teeth.

“they… jamil and kalim thought i should see you”

the eyes dropped down hiding behind the once beautifully tanned skin, now drained to make the student pale. closed eyes then being covered by the rich red bed covers.

“i… i don’t want to see you.. you should leave.. like now”

“no.. you’re obviously not well, what do you need? i’ll get it for you”

“i need you to leave”

each word started to crush silver, the pushing away from iyad irked him.

silver didn’t want to go, silver was worried, couldn’t iyad see that? his concern? his worry? his dread? his want?

his love?

“seriously, i can’t—“

“just what are you so afraid of?! huh, iyad? why are you so mean these days? we haven’t talked in forever..!” silver snapped, cutting his ill crush off mid sentence.

…

“…so what?” the words were muffled by the covers but were painfully echoed by the acoustics in silver’s head, he was growing more and more frustrated with the boy in bed.

“so what? so now you’re just gonna avoid me forever?”

silence molds on the outside of iyad, freezing over at the boldness of his classmate. both eyes stay averted, keeping down at the burning sun to preserve itself from melting, the sun being silver's eyes.

continuation of last Iyad’s Hanahaki post

Genre: fluffier than what ever happened last time

notes: wtf did i make, unfinished bc i dont have energy

Silver was tense to open the door, Jamil and Kalim were already acting in a very concerning way.

apparently they called his father, who relayed the information to silver. though relay is a generous word for it, cause lilia barely spoke an explanation after waking him up.

“Iyad’s feeling.. rather under the weather, why don’t you pay him a visit?”

his father was being so mysterious about it…

and that’s what silver’s here for, to be a good friend, but his initial worry amplified to the max when he saw the faces of Iyad’s peers.

the whole dorm felt very apprehensive, like everyone was collectively on edge. but now wasn’t the time to dwell for silver, his father has always preached the importance of bravery, especially when others are scared.

silver slips the door open, entering the still room, his blue eyes were immediately drawn to the bump in the bed.

“iyad.. are you alright?”

“go away”

his tone was sharp and angry, in a way it was reminiscent of their previous few conversations.

iyad was becoming distant towards silver, cutting their conversations short, their demeanor became rigid with awkwardness, their relaxed interactions soon became strained and forced, nothing like how they started out.

it hurt to think about for silver.. and for iyad.

silver walked over to the bed, pulling out the desk chair, sitting next the bump. a silence blanketed them both, the air was stuffy.

silver perked up when iyad shuffled under the covers, peeking their eyes out of from under the covers. silver couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn from the look they gave him.

iyad’s eyes, once filled with stoic nonchalance, now colored in with a guarded expression, nothing like it was before, now these eyes…

those weren’t the ones he fell in love with.

those eyes were kind, adoring, hardworking, calm. they warmed silver’s heart and cheeks whenever they met.

but.. but these eyes. they only sent a small shiver down his spine, rattling him out of motion. but even so.

“what happened? everyone’s says you’re sick..”

“it’s fine, i’m fine, why are you here?” iyad hissed through his teeth.

“they… jamil and kalim thought i should see you”

the eyes dropped down hiding behind the once beautifully tanned skin, now drained to make the student pale. closed eyes then being covered by the rich red bed covers.

“i… i don’t want to see you.. you should leave.. like now”

“no.. you’re obviously not well, what do you need? i’ll get it for you”

“i need you to leave”

each word started to crush silver, the pushing away from iyad irked him.

silver didn’t want to go, silver was worried, couldn’t iyad see that? his concern? his worry? his dread? his want?

his love?

“seriously, i can’t—“

“just what are you so afraid of?! huh, iyad? why are you so mean these days? we haven’t talked in forever..!” silver snapped, cutting his ill crush off mid sentence.

…

“…so what?” the words were muffled by the covers but were painfully echoed by the acoustics in silver’s head, he was growing more and more frustrated with the boy in bed.

“so what? so now you’re just gonna avoid me forever?”

silence molds on the outside of iyad, freezing over at the boldness of his classmate. both eyes stay averted, keeping down at the burning sun to preserve itself from melting, the sun being silver's eyes.

Should I post here more?

Oc art

(Some bases made by @mellon_soup on Pinterest)

Help what have I done😭😭

ok ok actual art post

Ocs, but made into monster objects or other way around, also a ship though

You wait for your time despite it being nowhere near

anyway doodle testing out how to try and draw the waiitng room with one of my oldest ocs

emo as.s lsosoerrrrrrrr

An OC Angst Thing (Brought To You By Hayloft II!)

My vision came back into focus. I shakily drew a breath of air as my body reformed, after being ripped apart over and over again. From within the storm of red and black, a winged silhouette trudged slowly towards me. I was shaking. I could hear my heartbeat. He gave me a strained smile, inky tears dripping from his chin. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"  I trembled. "Please, I don't.... I don't *know* what you mean! I'm not who you're looking for!"  He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Then suddenly, he was in front of me, his fist clenched around my shirt collar. "Oh you are, you just haven't..." His form suddenly went shadowy, then reformed into a face that I thought I'd forgotten. His voice went higher, more shaken. His hair turned to a mop of yellow. "....looked hard enough yet," his new form finished, and suddenly, I remembered. I remembered looking through my possessed self's eyes, leaving a sobbing teen to die alone. "Blaise... Oh god, Blaise, I..." I muttered, tears now spilling from my face.  "You look pathetic," his shaky voice muttered, his piercing yellow eyes seeming to stare through me, even though they, along with the clenched fist he was holding me with, were shaking with hatred. "Reminds me of someone else I knew." Then he dropped me into the storm.

You can't run from yourself angel.

I did a angst thing (under the keep reading)

(Es (the one in the suit) belongs to @mxdemeanor1945)