#angstember2021

Angst!! Angst and Hurt/Comfort!!

They’re some of the most fun fanworks to both create and consume!! In the interest of inspiring some lovely, lovely angsty works, I’ve come up with a month long prompt list starting on September 1st! Welcome to Angstember!!!

This prompt list is multi-fandom, and if you’re interested in participating and sharing, please use the tag #angstember2021 (I really want to be able to see all of your stuff)!

I’ve also set up a little collection on AO3 for anyone who’d like to add their works! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/angstember_2021

Dang, I don't know how old this is, so apologies if it's taken me forever to answer this!! Thank you for the prompt!!! <3 <3 <3

I was working something in conjunction with a prompt from Angstember 2021: “Help will be here soon, I promise.” The whumper in this case is @strahlenderzynismus 's OC Amos, but could just as easily be your favorite BSD whumper XDDD

Contents: electrocution, shock collars, escape attempt

“Help will be here soon, I promise.” 

Chuuya gazed up with unfocused eyes, Dazai’s face swimming in his vision and mixing with the rain.  He lay gasping in a puddle, his muscles shot, fried from the unending bout of electricity, iron-handed punishment for being out of his invisible cage.  They still twitched from misfiring nerves and the pain that threaded them.  It had only stopped when Dazai had taken a tazer to the collar to overload and fry the system. 

“Can’t…can’t move.”  Chuuya’s voice was little more than a cough and mouthed words.

Rain pelted down on his face as he watched Dazai mill over him, seemingly uncertain of what to do, or where to place his hands.  He looked over his shoulder and shouted words, incoherent to Chuuya’s ears, to someone off in the distance.  Chuuya tried to focus on Dazai’s brown eyes – more words were spoken, Dazai’s mouth moved, and then Chuuya blinked and he was gone. 

No.  Chuuya struggled, tried to sit up, see where Dazai was going.  But none of his muscles cooperated.  Come back, Chuuya wanted to yell.  But the only thing past his lips was a pained whimper against the rough brick sidewalk.  He’ll come for me!  All he needed was a moment of opportunity, and then he – Amos – would find him again and take Chuuya away. 

A quick, fluffy drabble, written for one of @greenfiredragonfly‘s Angstember prompts.

“Got you in my clutches now, angel.” Crowley squeezes, suiting action to word. He sinks onto the sofa, pulling Aziraphale with him. “You’re trapped.”

Aziraphale’s own arms tighten in response, subtly nudging Crowley’s embrace into a more secure hold. “So I am. My, how dreadful.”

“You’ll never escape.”

“No,” Aziraphale agrees cheerfully. “This is my fault. I should have known not to trust you. Wily, tempting serpent that you are.”

“Mhm.”

“Whatever will I do.”

“Stay in my clutches?” Crowley suggests.

“Hm.” Aziraphale pretends to consider. “Not a bad idea.”

“Terrific.”

“I’ll thwart your wiles,” Aziraphale promises, cuddling in. “Later.”

Also posted on AO3

Doing the Angstember prompts from this post. No apologies! Please feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here.

Warnings for injury mention

‘Crowley!’

That’s all the warning Crowley has before he has an arm full of angel. He manages to swallow the groan the half tackle, half hug causes, instead letting himself sink into the hug.

‘They told me you were dead,’ Aziraphale whispers as he holds Crowley, clinging tightly to the demon. ‘They said such awful things about… about how. Described in detail what they did to the Black Knight...’

Crowley clings back just as tightly, despite the way moving makes him want to grit his teeth and scream. ‘Can’t kill me angel,’ he mutters, ‘I’m too sneaky to kill.’

Aziraphale pulls back, then lets go with a gasp. ‘You look half dead already!’ he cries. ‘Oh, Crowley why did you let me hurt you?’

‘Like you could,’ Crowley lies, though by the look Aziraphale gives him it is not a successful lie. ‘I’m fine.’

‘And I’m a demon,’ Aziraphale snaps, pulling Crowley down onto his bedroll. 

‘What?’ Crowley tries to keep the panic from his voice. ‘You’re a what?’

‘Oh, I thought we were lying to another.’ Aziraphale pulls out a bowl of water that is far too warm to have been lying around. ‘How badly are you hurt?’

Crowley winces as Aziraphale tugs at his shirt. ‘Some of those things they were saying might’ve been true. Those arseholes hit hard, for the ‘good guys’.’

‘Being a ‘Good’ guy does not mean being kind,’ Aziraphale says with a sigh as he helps Crowley get his shirt off. ‘Nor does it always mean being good, in a moral sense.’

With a sigh, Crowley submits to the angel’s tender, and human, healing acts. ‘Yeah, definitely got that impression angel.’

Aziraphale sighs too. ‘At least you’re in one piece,’ he says softly, cleaning the worst of the wounds. ‘I doubt this place would be as interesting without you.’

After that compliment, Aziraphale does not meet Crowley’s eyes, but his hands are gentle as he binds Crowley’s wounds and, when Crowley wakes, he is still sitting by the tent door, as alert as any guard as ever been.

9/4 -Don't let go, with Scott

Maybe in space with John being the rescuer?

Split Second

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rated: Teen Genre: Angst/Family Characters: John, Scott

It was one of them or neither of them. Angstember prompt 4: Don't Let Go

Nothing cheeky about that request! I like requests :D This is actually my second attempt at writing this one, because the first one was more whump/h/c than angst. Might still finish off and post the first attempt at some point because I like the premise, but for now we're staying on the angst train (with a side dish of whump, admittedly), so you guys get this.

Angstember 2021 Prompts - I only plan on writing prompts if I get a request for them, so request away :D Doesn’t have to be TAG - characters from any fandom can be requested (although I can only guarantee I’ll work with ones I know)

John was trapped, wreckage collapsed all around him. By itself, that wasn’t necessarily a problem, just an inconvenience, but there was another factor involved. A factor that changed everything.

He wasn’t alone.

John was used to solo missions, dipping in and out of Thunderbird Five to local ships and stations in distress with his exosuit. It was unusual to have company – usually Alan – and even rarer that his company was his big brother.

Scott had been up on Thunderbird Five when the call had come in, an unusual circumstance in and of itself, and if he was honest John had been enjoying the rare company of just his big brother. Of course, said big brother refused to sit back and do space monitor duty while a little brother darted out solo, so they’d gone together.

There was no way there were any survivors now. The freighter had, somehow, imploded, John had been in the worst spot possible by sheer misfortune, and Scott was no luckier.

Aziraphale, over the years, had grown accustomed to Crowley’s pacing. He was always bursting with too much energy, too many ideas and questions and doubts that didn’t fit in his body, always spilling out. 

It was endearing, in a way. But Aziraphale was far too nervous and in need of concentration to find it anything other than a nuisance.

“Please, Crowley, sit down,” he said for the third time, sighing and trying very hard not to sound as tired as he felt. “Or at the very least tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Tell you what I’m thinking,” Crowley repeated, but he did stop his pacing to look at Aziraphale. “And what good would it do to us?”

“I’m… I’m not sure — but I want to know.”

“You want to know?” Aziraphale nodded, despite the danger in Crowley’s tone.  

Crowley sat down on the couch next to him, giving Aziraphale one long look from behind his glasses.

“I’m scared,” Crowley spat, but his anger couldn’t mask the shaking of his voice. “I’m scared that all of this won’t be enough, that… that I won’t be enough.” 

There was a beat of silence. Just enough for Crowley’s words to sink in and claw their way towards Aziraphale’s useless heart.

“I lived without you once, angel, I can’t do it again.” 

And they didn’t do this — but Aziraphale couldn’t help it. He wrapped his arms around Crowley, one of his hands coming up to let Crowley’s head lay on his shoulder.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. All the tension seemed to vanish, Crowley all but melting into the embrace, grabbing handfuls of Aziraphale’s coat in a desperate attempt to get closer. 

“Crowley, my dearest, I promise you we’ll get through this.” 

There was a response, muffled by his coat. Aziraphale’s hand drew circles on Crowley’s back.

“You’ve taken care of me for so long, my dearest, let me take care of you,” the demon mumbled a complaint, but Aziraphale shushed him. “I’ll come up with a way to get us out of this mess. I’ve already chosen a side, choosing a face can’t be that hard…”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. 

Welcome to “Angstember” (Sorta)

Anyone familiar with my writing knows angst isn’t really my thing. When I heard about the angstember prompt list I thought I’d hate it, but then I read it and thought I’d give myself more work. Welcome to Not-So-Angsty Angstember, an anthology fic of mini fluff and humor stories based off the “angsty” prompt list!

First up: “They Told Me You Were Dead”

got a secret (can you keep it)

It was time for a reckoning. For Tom to tell his deepest secrets, the one that sat, stale, inside him for too long and curdled, the one that rotted him from the inside out. For Tom to see if Harry could still love him, even knowing what he’d done.

Sometimes, Tom wondered if Harry could taste the decay and the poison on his lips when they kissed, if the darkness inside of him tasted bitter, soured their love. Tom wondered if Harry already knew, or at least suspected, and still loved him.

Tom hoped that Harry could still love him, even knowing the truth.

Written for Angstember day 6: And what happens when I tell someone else?