I Was Kinda Upset Earlier That Most Of My Stories I Have In My Drafts Don't Have Any Kind Of Meaning

Vibes for Softly Tortured Characters

For the ones who make you want to wrap them in a blanket and also scream “JUST TALK TO SOMEONE.”

Always looks like they didn’t sleep (because they didn’t)

Talks like they’re about to say something else, but never does

Constantly touches their sleeves/jewelry/lip, like if they’re not holding something, they’ll fall apart

Laughs too easily, but it never quite reaches their eyes

Over-apologizes for things no one noticed

Craves affection but flinches when they get it

Body language = trying to take up as little space as possible

Flashes of unexpected rage, like pressure finally cracking glass

Always says “I’m fine” in a tone that screams “Please ask again”

Cries alone, then wipes their face like it’s a secret

Feels safest in chaos because stillness feels like waiting for pain

Thinks being loved means being a burden

Cannot remember the last time they were truly, fully relaxed

Keeps people at arm’s length, but is the first to drop everything if someone else needs help

Treats their own joy like it's a luxury they didn’t earn

Hello bugborg fandom! I present you with a short drabble.

Knowhere. 4 days after the abduction of Kevin Bacon.

“You knew.”

“What?”

“You knew the whole time, Nebula.” Mantis paused, deep in thought. Then finally, all those questions bubbled to the surface and formed one word. “How?”

Nebula was getting annoyed. “Again, knew what? I don't read minds, bug.”

“That Ego is my father.”

“Was,” Nebula corrected. Mantis flinched. Her antennae flickered a bit.

“I told you yesterday,” Mantis continued. “But I could sense…guilt. Remorse. Nervousness. You already knew.” 

Nebula stiffened. “It wasn't hard to guess. Ego didn't have a single other being living on his planet. He murdered all of his previous children and their mothers, makes sense he'd spare the most useful one.”

Mantis's eyes widened for a moment. “Yes, that was why he wanted to find Peter.”

“I'm not talking about Peter, grasshopper.”

“It's Mantis.”

“Let's just say that we've got one thing in common.”

“What is that?”

Something resembling a smile twitched on Nebula's lips. “We both had total dicks for fathers.”

modern au drabble/oneshot

Her foot fell heavy on the brake, but it wasn't enough time to stop her car from hitting the pole. Her head flew forwards (thank the GODS she was wearing a seatbelt) and then crashed against the headrest.

She had an immediate migraine.

She told herself it was just a reaction to the pain in her head when her eyes began to water.

Still, she squeezed them shut.

She was rudely awoken from her micro-nap by the loud ringing of her phone (she needed it that loud, because when she was in the workshop, NOTHING could make her stop. Except maybe "Take You To Rio" blasting at full volume through the phone speaker).

Moana's name flashed across the screen, a picture of her smiling in the sun with a silly flower crown in the background.

Loto almost didn't answer.

But she did.

"Hey, Mo."

"Loto! I'm…kind of surprised you picked up. So listen, I was thinking, for our Halloween costumes, we could do Dracula and….Loto?"

"Dracula and me?"

"No, I just. You're oddly nonhyperverbal. It's strange. Are you okay? Where are you?"

It was at that moment that Loto wished she could lie.

"On the corner of Mayoral Drive and Wellesley Street. Near the post office."

"Are you…mailing something?"

"No. I…hit a pole. With my car," she added for clarification, because there were other possibilities.

There was a pause, for about three seconds. Then,

"Loto! What do you mean you crashed into a pole? Why didn't you call me?"

"You called me," Loto pointed out.

"Right, but why didn't you call me immediately? Is it bad? Do you need a ride? Are you being lifted to the hospital?"

"No, Moana. It's fine."

"I'm coming. GPS says it'll be fifteen minutes. I can do it in ten."

"Mo-"

"Nope. No arguments. Sit tight."

Loto thought Moana had hung up, until the loud car engine starting that came from the phone was joined by a question.

"Which pillow pet is your favorite?"

"Pillow pet?"

"For comfort. I'm going with the penguin if you don't answer in five…four…three..two..one! Penguin it is. Okay, bye."

Then Moana hung up.

Loto rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Why was love so complicated?

It seemed like LESS than ten minutes by the time a honk sounded from behind Loto’s car. She blinked blearily, glanced in the rearview, and saw Moana's sticker-covered hand-me-down Volkswagen Beetle.

Then, seconds later, Moana opened the passenger door, pillow pet in one hand and hot chocolate in the other (she had stopped for hot chocolate??) and got in.

She looked at Loto, then looked away, tapping her fingers on the cup. "Hi."

Loto swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes staring out the windshield and into the stormy distance. "Sorry," she blurted out. "For this. For making you stop whatever you were doing to come here."

Moana put the coffee cup on the dash, where it sat precariously close to the edge. Then she reached over, without a word, and pulled Loto into a hug.

"I crashed my car into a tree once," Moana whispered, as if those were deep, comforting words. "There was a bird in the middle of the road, and I swerved so I wouldn't hit it, and I hit the tree instead."

"At least the tree didn't sue for damage," Loto said, voice muffled against Moana’s hoodie.

"No, but the owner of the house tried to. That was how I met my friend Maui."

"Maui sued you?"

"No, Kele sued me. Maui was the lawyer who won the case for me."

Loto chuckled, nuzzling closer to Moana. "You're a wee bit silly, ay Mo?"

"I'll do anything to see you smile again."

Loto blushed.

"Okay, get back to your car," she said jokingly.

But she stayed in Moana's arms.

And Moana didn't move a muscle.

i drew a horse from memory one like and i will reveal my beautiful boy to the world

some crazy good fanfic in my google docs. whatever guy started writing it i hope he finishes it

Things Your Character Secretly Fears (But Won’t Admit It)

(Even if they act like they’ve got it together or especially if they do.)

Being truly known (because what if they’re not enough?)

Being truly loved (because what if they’re not enough... again?)

Being forgotten.

Letting people down, and knowing they did.

Becoming their parents.

Needing help.

Asking for it.

Getting what they want, and hating it.

Being vulnerable and not being met there.

Losing control in front of others.

Letting someone close, only to be abandoned.

Never finding their purpose.

Success (because now they have something to lose).

Hurting someone they care about.

Saying something they can’t take back.

Feeling too much, and not being able to stop.

That they peaked too early.

That they’re not the main character in their own life.

Trusting someone and getting burned for it.

That deep down, they are the villain in someone else's story.