#it will hit us one day probably but no one will be here anymore lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonsdietcoke · 11 days ago

Text

Parting Gift - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 2 of my mini series love ridden (you don’t have to read part 1 but it helps you get a deeper understanding of their relationship)

Warnings: Toxic relationship,Emotional manipulation and gaslighting, DUBCON/implied sexual misconduct, power imbalances and coercion,mentions of substance abuse,threats of self-harm, mentions of bruising, vomiting, unreliable memory

Summary: “It ended bad, but I love what we started.” A night out, was supposed to be a distraction, a step to moving on. Instead it leaves you questioning everything. Loosely inspired by Parting gift-Fiona apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: ahhhh here it is! This is very much a wild ride so be prepared and get comfortable lol. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………………..

“Two years.”

It echoes in your head as you stare at your phone. The screen blinks, illuminating the dark, quiet apartment, and your reflection stares back at you. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

Two years of late nights.

Two years of broken promises.

Two years of fights that always ended the same way — with you apologizing for things you hadn’t even done.

Two years of Su-bong.

The notifications keep coming.

Messages. Missed calls. Voicemails.

You blocked him a week ago. You had to.

Before that, you let the calls go unanswered. You left his texts on read. But after that voicemail, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It wasn’t just the things he said.

It was the way he sounded.

Drunk. High out of his mind. Slurring his words like he could barely get them out.

You’d heard him like that before, of course. Countless times. But this was different.

The shaking breath at the beginning of the message.

The muffled sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor.

The distinct rattle of a pill bottle.

And then his voice —

Low. Rough. Desperate.

“You know, if you don’t fucking answer me…”

There was a pause. You could hear him breathing.

“Maybe I should just end it all.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

The sound of pills being shaken in his hand.

“It’s in your hands now.”

You remember sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the phone clutched in your hands, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.

That was the breaking point.

You blocked him.

It was hard. Very hard.

What if he was serious?!

What if he did it and it was your fault?!

But it didn’t stop the nightmares.

It’s been a month since the breakup, and you haven’t left your apartment in days.

The dishes are piled up in the sink. Your laundry is overflowing.

You haven’t brushed your hair in three days.

The weight of it all feels suffocating.

You thought leaving him would make you feel free.

Instead, you feel empty.

When your phone buzzes again, you ignore it.

It’s probably Ji-hye.

She’s been trying to get you to go out for weeks.

“You need to live a little,” she said last time you saw her.

But you don’t feel like living.

Still, when your phone buzzes again, you pick it up.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:17 PM): Come out with us tonight. Please?

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:18 PM): There’s a new club opening in Itaewon. It’ll be fun.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:19 PM): I’m not taking no for an answer.

You stare at the messages for a long time.

The thought of going to a club makes your stomach turn.

You haven’t been out in two years.

You haven’t been you in two years.

But the apartment feels too small.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

Fuck it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shower burns your skin.

You scrub until you feel raw, as if you can wash away the last two years.

But no amount of scrubbing erases the bruises —

The ones he left on your heart.

When you step out, you wipe the fogged mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is a tangled mess.

Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles.

You look like someone who’s been barely holding it together.

This isn’t who I am, you tell yourself.

You plug in your hair straightener. You do your makeup.

By the time you’re done, you almost feel like yourself again.

You rifle through your closet, pulling out a black dress you haven’t worn in years. It still fits — snug and short, hugging your body in a way that feels foreign after months of oversized hoodies and leggings.

When you step into your heels, you wobble for a second.

It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything but sneakers.

But when you look in the mirror again —

You see her.

The girl you used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ji-hye and her friends are already tipsy when you meet them outside the club.

She squeals when she sees you.

“Look at you! You look amazing!”

You try to smile, but it feels forced.

The club is packed.

Neon lights pulse to the beat of the music.

Bodies move together on the dance floor.

Ji-hye hands you a shot as soon as you walk in.

“Drink up!”

You down it quickly, the burn making you wince.

“Another?”

Why not?

By the time you lose count, you’ve had at least six shots.

Maybe more.

You stopped counting after the first round of tequila.

The room spins slightly, but you feel good.

Better than you’ve felt in weeks.

You laugh with Ji-hye.

You dance with strangers.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then you see him.

At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you.

But when you blink, he’s still there.

Su-bong.

He’s standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you.

His hair is messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.

He looks the same as he always does —

Rough around the edges, disheveled in that careless way that made you fall for him in the first place.

But there’s something in his eyes —

Something dark.

Your stomach twists.

The room feels too hot.

You grab Ji-hye’s arm.

“Ji-hye. Is he…?”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh shit.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

She bites her lip, looking guilty.

“I didn’t know. I swear. But he’s friends with Seung-ho.”

She nods toward one of the guys in their group — a guy you don’t know well.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat.

You down another shot, your hands shaking slightly.

Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away.

But he doesn’t.

When you look up again, he’s moving toward you.

You see him before he speaks.

The way he weaves through the crowd, his gaze locked on you like he’s on a mission.

You look away.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him.

But it’s too late.

He’s right there.

“Hey.”

His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough.

You don’t turn around.

You keep your eyes on your drink, your knuckles white as you grip the glass.

“I didn’t know you came here.��

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

Your whole body goes stiff.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.”

Your voice is steady, but your heart is pounding.

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he slides into the seat next to you.

Like he belongs there.

Like nothing happened.

“Come on,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing. “You’re really not even going to say hi?”

You turn to him, your eyes flashing.

“Why would I?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you missed me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Missed you?”

You set your drink down, leaning closer.

“You left me voicemails threatening to fucking kill yourself. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

His expression doesn’t change.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.

“Did it scare you?”

Your blood runs cold.

“What?”

“Did it scare you?” he repeats, his voice soft.

“Did you think I was going to do it?”

You stare at him, horrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His lips twitch into something that might be a smile — but there’s no warmth in it.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, his tone almost casual.

“And you wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you thought threatening to kill yourself was the way to get my attention?”

Your voice is shaking now, anger and fear mixing in your chest.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he reaches for your hand.

And you’re too stunned to pull away.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I don’t know what to do without you.”

You rip your hand away, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t fucking do that.”

Your voice is loud now, cutting through the music.

“Don’t pretend you’re some fucking victim.”

His expression hardens.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

You step closer, your chest heaving.

“You always do this. You always make it about you. Like your fucking pain is the only thing that matters.”

He stands up slowly, towering over you.

“I’m in pain because of you.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

His voice is low now. Dangerous.

“You love me.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

He steps closer.

“I know you do. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.”

You hate how he gets in your head.

How he twists your words.

“I don’t love you,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time.

He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“Then why haven’t you moved on?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut.

And you don’t have an answer.

“Let’s go outside,” he says.

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“It’s too loud in here.”

You hesitate.

“Please.”

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away.

“Just talk to me.”

Your heart is pounding.

Your mind is spinning.

And against your better judgment —

You follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alleyway outside the club smells like cigarette smoke and spilled beer.

You cross your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. The night air feels too cold against your skin, cutting through the warmth of the alcohol.

Su-bong lights a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he brings it to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then —

“What do you want from me?”

Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and strained.

He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze steady on you.

“I just want you.”

You laugh, bitter and harsh.

“Do you even hear yourself? You had me, Su-bong. You had me for two fucking years, and you—”

Your voice cracks.

“You fucking broke me.”

His jaw tightens.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Your chest heaves, your breath fogging in the cold air.

“Over and over again.”

“I know.”

He takes a step closer.

“And I’m sorry.”

It’s the softness in his voice that undoes you.

That fucking softness.

Because for a split second —

You almost believe him.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words hang in the air between you, soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to carve them into your skin. And you hate how much they make your chest ache.

You hate that it’s him standing here, saying these things. Again.

“You say that like it fucking matters.” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Like it changes anything.”

He exhales smoke, eyes never leaving yours. “It does matter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head, your arms tightening around yourself like it’s the only thing holding you together. “You’ve hurt me too many times for it to matter.”

A pause.

A flicker of something in his eyes.

And then, softly —

“I couldn’t stop.”

The words hit you harder than you want them to.

Your chest tightens, your mind flashing back to the nights he stumbled through the door, high and out of it, mumbling half-assed apologies through the haze.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he continues, his voice quiet. “Not without you.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “You can’t keep blaming me for your fucking choices.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” You gesture between the two of you, your voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”

“I’m trying to fix it.”

Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Fix it? You can’t fix this, Su-bong. You can’t.”

He flinches at the way your voice cracks.

But he doesn’t back down.

“I can try.”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The months of pain, the sleepless nights, the voicemail that still echoes in your mind.

“You’re fucking selfish.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You don’t love me,” you say, and it feels like you’re ripping your own heart out. “You love what I do for you. You love having someone to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. Someone to save you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaves. “You only ever show up when you’re desperate. When you need something. And I’m fucking done being that person for you.”

He takes a step closer, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning down to the filter.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

You hate the way your heart twists.

“I want you.”

You shake your head again, but it’s weaker this time.

“I love you.”

And there it is.

Those three fucking words.

The words that used to make your heart explode. The words that used to make you believe in him, in a future that never existed.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a little. “I’ve tried, Y/N. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m fucking lost without you.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“You’re only lost because you never tried to find yourself,” you whisper. “You’ve always expected me to do it for you.”

His eyes soften, that familiar vulnerability creeping in.

“I’m trying now.”

“No, you’re not.” You take a step back. “You’re trying to pull me back in. That’s all you ever do.”

A beat of silence.

Then —

“I miss you.”

The words cut through the night, soft and raw.

And you feel yourself wavering.

Fuck.

You press your palms to your face, trying to breathe, trying to steady yourself.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper. “You don’t get what you did to me.”

He takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding.

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“You need to.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” Your voice cracks, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “What I need is to move on.”

His hand reaches out, tentative, trembling.

But when his fingers brush against your arm-

You flinch.

It’s instinctive.

A reaction you couldn’t stop if you tried.

And the look on his face?

It’s devastating.

He pulls his hand back slowly, like he’s been burned.

“I’m not him anymore.”

The words are quiet, almost desperate.

“I’m not the guy who fucked up. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”

“You are.” Your voice is soft, but firm. “You’ll always be that guy, Su-bong.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give up.

But then he looks up again.

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitate.

The rational part of you — the part that’s spent the last month piecing yourself back together — is screaming at you to walk away.

But your heart?

Your heart is still caught in the web he’s spun around you.

“ we’re already talking…” you slightly slur your words, the alcohol taking full effect.

“Five minutes,” he says again, softer this time. “At my place. Please.”

And against your better judgment —

You nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the sensation of weight.

Heavy. Suffocating.

An arm draped over your waist. A body pressed too close, warm breath against the back of your neck.

And for one blissful second, you’re still half asleep. Still caught in that hazy space between dreams and reality, your mind fogged over with sleep, soft and pliant.

But then your eyes open.

And everything sharpens.

The bedroom is dark — curtains drawn, faint slivers of morning light sneaking through the cracks. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. It smells familiar.

And the weight around your waist?

It’s Su-bong.

Your stomach lurches.

No. No, no, no.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest, the dull ache between your temples throbbing harder with each beat. Your mind scrambles to piece together how the fuck you ended up here. The last thing you remember clearly is the club — Ji-hye pulling you onto the dance floor, shots of tequila burning your throat, the neon lights swirling around you.

And then —

His voice.

His hands.

And now you’re here. In his bed.

You hold your breath, every muscle in your body going rigid. His arm is still heavy across your waist, his hand curled loosely against your hip, fingers twitching like he’s dreaming.

Carefully — so carefully — you think maybe you can slip out from under him.

Carefully, you reach for his wrist, your fingers trembling as you try to lift his arm off you. The sheet rustles softly, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. You freeze, your breath hitching.

He stirs.

A small, unconscious noise slips from his throat, his fingers curling slightly against your hip.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

Please don’t wake up.

You stay frozen, your body stiff, your breath shallow. His arm feels impossibly heavy against your waist, like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. Slowly — so slowly — you ease it off you, inch by inch, until it finally falls to the bed.

He murmurs something in his sleep, low and unintelligible.

You freeze again, your pulse roaring in your ears.

He doesn’t wake.

You let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible, and sit up as quietly as you can. The room tilts slightly as you do, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. You press a hand to your temple, blinking against the dizziness.

The sheets are tangled around your legs, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. You untangle yourself carefully, your fingers trembling, your movements slow and deliberate.

His body shifts slightly behind you, his breathing deepening for a moment before settling back into a steady rhythm.

Move.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet. The hem of your dress rides up as you stand, the fabric wrinkled and twisted, clinging to your skin.

You glance back at him, your chest tight.

He’s still asleep.

But his face is turned toward you now, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted slightly. He looks softer like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by sleep.

It makes your stomach turn.

Focus.

You force your gaze away, scanning the room for your things.

Your phone.

Your purse.

Where the fuck are they?

The panic sets in slowly, creeping up your spine like cold water, inch by inch. You scan the room, searching for your things, but the room looks almost exactly the same as when you left a month ago.

Cluttered. Messy. The ashtray on the nightstand is overflowing. Empty bottles litter the floor. The same crumpled blankets. The same cigarette burns in the carpet.

Like time stood still.

Like he hasn’t moved on.

Your stomach twists painfully, nausea creeping in at the edges. You stand, your legs unsteady, your head pounding. The ache in your body — between your thighs, in the muscles of your legs — is impossible to ignore.

You take a step toward the bathroom, your hands trembling as you reach for the door handle. You need a moment to breathe. To think.

To figure out what the fuck happened.

The bathroom is as grim as you remember. The light flickers when you turn it on, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The mirror is streaked with water stains, the sink cluttered with half-used toiletries.

You close the door behind you, locking it with a shaky hand.

And then you catch your reflection.

Your lipstick is barely there anymore, smudged at the edges. Your mascara streaked under your eyes. Your hair is a tangled mess, the carefully straightened strands now knotted and frizzy.

But it’s the rest of you that makes your breath catch.

The dress you wore last night is twisted around your waist, the hem wrinkled and pulled too high. Your thighs are bare. You pull at the fabric, tugging it down, but your hands freeze when you see the faint bruises.

Finger-shaped bruises.

They’re light, barely there, but you know what they are.

Your stomach drops.

You lift the hem of your dress higher, revealing more bruises along your inner thighs. Some small, faint smudges of blue and purple. Some darker.

You press your fingers to them, your skin flinching under your own touch.

Did I fall?

Did I—

Your mind races, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that makes sense.

And then your eyes flicker lower.

Your underwear is backward.

You stare for a long moment, your brain struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing. The waistband digs awkwardly into your hips, the tag twisted around to the front.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Your stomach churns violently.

You lift the toilet lid, falling to your knees as you retch. There’s nothing in your stomach but bile, burning its way up your throat.

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The bathroom spins around you, your head pounding, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.

You reach for the sink, pulling yourself up slowly, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your eyes flicker back to your reflection.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache between your legs.

Did we—

No.

No, no, no.

You grip the sink harder, your nails digging into the porcelain.

‘I don’t remember.’

That’s the worst part.

You don’t remember anything.

You remember seeing him at the club. You remember yelling at him, calling him out for the voicemail. You remember him pulling you outside, the alley reeking of cigarette smoke and beer.

And then it’s all a blur.

Flashes of his voice. His hand on your arm. The way he looked at you — dark, desperate.

But nothing else.

Your chest tightens painfully.

You want to leave.

You need to leave.

You unlock the bathroom door with shaking hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you step back into the bedroom.

But when you step inside —

He’s awake.

Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. He looks up when he hears you, his gaze locking on yours.

And the first thing you notice?

He’s sober.

There’s no haze in his eyes. No slurred speech. No unsteady hands.

He’s completely sober.

Your stomach twists painfully.

“Morning.”

His voice is soft, tentative.

Like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t say anything.

You take a step toward the nightstand, searching for your phone. Your purse. Anything.

But he stands up slowly, blocking your path.

“Hey.”

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“You don’t have to run.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t remember anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I don’t—”

“I know.” His eyes soften, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of concern. “You were really drunk.”

Your heart sinks.

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me at the club. You… you wanted to come back here.”

You shake your head, your stomach churning.

“I don’t remember that.”

You must’ve been really drunk because from what you remember you weren’t exactly happy too see him. How did you go from fighting with him to begging to be back at his apartment?

“You were drunk,” he says again, like it’s the answer to everything. “It’s okay. I took care of you.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache.

“What do you mean, you took care of me?”

His gaze flickers away for a moment, his jaw tightening.

“You wanted to come back,” he says softly. “You told me you missed me. That you wanted to… you know. Talk. Figure things out.”

Your mind spins, scrambling to fill in the blanks.

“I don’t remember,” you whisper again, your voice shaking.

“I know.” He steps closer, his voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You flinch.

But he doesn’t pull back.

“I missed you,” he says again, his voice softening. “I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They only hurt so bad because he was saying them now. After everything.

And for a moment —

You don’t know what to believe.

“You were wasted, Y/N.”

His words come soft, careful, like he’s tiptoeing around something fragile. His body language matches it — slouched shoulders, a furrowed brow, the faintest slump in his posture like he’s weighed down by concern.

Your stomach churns.

“I… I wasn’t that drunk.” The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. A lie to yourself, as much as to him. You’d lost count at six shots. At least six. Maybe more.

His lips press into a thin line, a faint shake of his head following. “You could barely stand.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, knuckles trembling.

“I don’t remember…” You force the words out, hating how small they sound, how they let the power tip toward him.

He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You were crying. Saying you missed me. That you needed me.” He pauses, eyes meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave you there?”

The breath punches out of you. Crying? Saying you missed him? Needed him?

That couldn’t be true. That can’t be true.

But your mind betrays you. A flash of his hands steadying you on the dance floor. His voice coaxing you into the alley. The warmth of his hand brushing yours.

Pieces fall together, but the picture is fractured, missing the crucial moments. And that’s what he’s counting on.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracks, a fresh wave of panic rolling through you. “I wouldn’t—”

“You did,” he says firmly. Not loud, but firm enough that it cuts through your protest. “You were falling apart, Y/N. I couldn’t just—” He stops, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s trying to collect himself. “I had to help you.”

Help you.

The bruises on your thighs burn like a brand.

“By bringing me here?” you snap, your voice rising. “By—by—” You stop yourself before the question comes tumbling out: Did you touch me?

His face hardens just slightly, enough to send a shiver skittering down your spine. “I wasn’t going to let you go home alone. Not like that. You don’t even know what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean what could’ve happened?” Your voice cracks, pitching higher, panic seeping in. “What did happen?”

He holds your gaze, and for a moment, his expression softens again. “Nothing happened.”

The words should feel like a relief. They don’t.

“Nothing?” Your voice is small, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Nothing,” he repeats, stepping closer. Too close. “You needed me, Y/N. And I was there for you. Like I always have been.”

Always.

Your mind spirals, reaching for anything concrete, any moment from last night that you can grab onto. But it’s all a haze, smothered by the tequila and the smoke and him.

“I don’t…” You press a hand to your temple, the ache blooming there sharp and relentless. “I don’t remember asking to come back here.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against your arm, and you flinch without meaning to.

His eyes darken at that. “You’re scared of me now?”

You want to say yes. But the word lodges itself in your throat, too big to swallow, too dangerous to spit out.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

“Then why are you acting like this?” His voice is soft, low, almost tender. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. I just—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And now you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.”

He steps closer. You step back. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking, suffocating.

“Why am I here, Su-bong?” Your voice is stronger now, the edge of panic sharpening it. “Why the fuck was I in your bed?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together like you’ve just said something unreasonable. “You wanted to be here.”

“No.” You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks, the words tangling in your throat. “I don’t even remember coming back with you.”

His expression doesn’t shift. “You were drunk,” he says simply. “You don’t have to make this a big deal.”

You laugh — bitter, sharp. “Not a big deal?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Not a big fucking deal? I don’t even know what happened, Su-bong. I don’t—” Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting violently. The next words catch in your throat, almost too heavy to force out. “Did we—”

You can’t say it. You can barely think it.

“Did we have sex?”

He doesn’t react right away. Not outwardly. But you catch it — the faint flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze shifts to the side before finding yours again.

“Why would you ask me that?” His voice is steady, but there’s something too measured about it, like he’s rehearsed this answer in his head a thousand times.

“Because I don’t fucking know,” you snap, your hands trembling. They curl into fists at your sides, shaking with every ragged breath. “My underwear’s on backwards, Su-bong. I have bruises. And you’re acting—” You stop yourself, your throat tightening painfully. “You’re acting like you did something.”

His jaw tightens again, and this time his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He exhales slowly, dragging his hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want,” he says finally, his tone low but clipped.

It’s not an answer.

It’s not a fucking answer.

“What does that mean?” Your voice rises, panic flaring again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you wanted to come back with me,” he says, sharper now, a flash of frustration cutting through the veneer of calm. “You were all over me at the club, Y/N. I told you we shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off abruptly, his fingers raking through his hair again, the strands spiking in every direction. “But you wouldn’t let it go.”

Your stomach twists painfully, the nausea creeping back in full force.

“I wouldn’t let it go?” Your voice cracks, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You’re blaming me? You’re saying I—”

“I’m not blaming you.” He exhales sharply, his voice softening just slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself back in. “I’m saying you wanted this. You made that clear.”

“I don’t even remember!” Your voice breaks now, raw and jagged, splintering through the room. “How can I want something I can’t fucking remember?”

He steps closer, and this time you’re too stunned, too frozen, to move.

“Y/N.” His voice drops lower, almost pleading, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you. “You were drunk, yeah. But you weren’t—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “You weren’t out of it. You knew what you were doing.”

The words settle over you like a lead weight, pressing down on your chest until it feels impossible to breathe. Your mind scrambles to piece together the night before, to fill in the blanks, but it’s all fog. Hazy flashes of neon lights and pounding music and his hand on your arm.

“I don’t—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight in your chest. “I don’t know what to believe.”

His expression softens slightly, his shoulders lowering as he steps closer again, closing the gap between you.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice coaxing, soothing. He reaches for your hand, brushing his fingers against yours.

You flinch.

The motion is small, instinctive. But he catches it, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he carefully, deliberately pulls his hand back.

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a faint edge of frustration again. “I tried to do the right thing, Y/N. I could’ve left you at the club. I could’ve let you go home alone. But I didn’t.”

He looks at you, his eyes steady and unwavering, and you hate how much they make your stomach twist.

“I stayed.” He takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne, mingling with the smoke and stale alcohol lingering in the room. “Because you needed me.”

You press your back against the wall, your hands gripping the hem of your dress so tightly it crumples in your fists.

“I don’t remember needing you,” you say, your voice small but sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looks up again, there’s something different in his eyes. Something dark.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re here.”

The question hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

And in the silence that follows, he steps back, his expression shifting to something softer, more familiar.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “And I know you missed me too.”

“Just… stay.”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Stay.

You want to run. You want to grab your things and get out of this apartment, out of this nightmare, and never look back. But your legs won’t move. Your feet feel glued to the floor, weighed down by doubt and fear and something else—something softer, something that aches when he looks at you like this.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whisper.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. Vulnerable.

“I know.” His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not the guy I was before, Y/N. I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.”

You hate how much those words hurt. How much you want to believe them.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” you say, your voice trembling. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You did,” he says firmly. “Maybe you don’t remember, but you did.”

The words cut through you like a blade, sharp and cold. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to believe him.

But the tequila haze clouds everything, blurring the edges of the truth.

“Just give me a chance,” he says, stepping closer again. “Let me prove it to you. Let me—” He stops himself, his voice catching. “Let me fix this.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away. His fingers are warm, steady, wrapping around yours like they belong there. Like they always have.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says again. His voice is so soft, so careful. “Just stay. Please.”

Your chest heaves, your breath shallow and uneven.

And then—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, sharp and jarring. You jerk your hand away from his, your heart leaping into your throat as you spin toward the nightstand.

Your phone is lying there, screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Ji-hye’s name flashes across the screen.

Your stomach twists violently.

Su-bong doesn’t move. He stands frozen in place, his gaze fixed on you. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to see whatever’s written on his face.

You grab the phone, your fingers trembling as you swipe to open the message.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:04 AM): You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

Your breath catches, your chest tightening painfully.

“Who is it?” Su-bong’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady, but there’s an edge to it now.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, you take a shaky step back, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something dark and unyielding. “Who was it?”

“Ji-hye.” The name barely makes it out of your mouth, your voice cracking on the second syllable.

He hums, low and quiet. “What did she say?”

You glance down at the screen again, the words burning into your retinas. You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

You don’t know what to say.

What can you say?

“Y/N,” he says again, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s trying to keep you from bolting. “Talk to me.”

Your chest heaves, your breath coming faster now. “I need to go.”

The words feel weak, hollow, and you hate how they tremble as they leave your lips.

“Go where?” His question is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes your stomach turn.

“Away from here.”

The second the words are out, his expression shifts. The softness in his gaze hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“If you walk out that door…” He trails off, his voice cutting off like he’s biting down on the rest of the sentence.

Your heart races, panic rising in your chest. “What?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see me again.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs.

There’s a finality to them, an edge that cuts too deep. You don’t know what he means — if he’s talking about leaving your life or leaving altogether — but it doesn’t matter.

It scares you.

And he knows it.

His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching, unwavering. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:06 AM): If you’re with him, just leave. I’ll come get you.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

Su-bong takes another step closer. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “We can talk. We can figure this out. But if you walk away now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. The threat lingers in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, Ji-hye’s message flashing like a lifeline in your palm.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, pleading. “Stay.”

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your mind spinning.

And in that moment, you don’t know what scares you more; the thought of staying, or the thought of leaving.

561 notes · View notes

worldly-fluster · 1 month ago

Text

Imma post something, only cause my cat put her paw on my phone screen while I was reading about Sylus and she hit the little blue circle in the corner. She the love of my life ❤️

Anyway...time to write some ANGST angst.

Like... WARNING THIS MIGHT TRIGGER SOMEONE.

LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Sylus-- Part 1 of 4

(I don't have the mental energy to put all of them on one lol I'll try getting Xavier's out tonight-no promises)

Yeah um, going off some personal stuff here so it's probably gonna be a mess. MC has an emotionally abusive family. It's 'Diary' but I call mine a different name.

You have been warned btw.

Sylus-

•He knew your life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, even living in Linkon he knew there were shadows everywhere. Hell, when he met you, you would flinch at everything and hardly spoke so he knew something had happened to you at some point.

•He just didn't expect it to be...this bad.

•You both were having a normal day, you were smiling and laughing. Finally feeling safe enough around him to open up more. He was so excited to have seen your eyes light up that nothing else mattered in this moment.

•When it happened.

•Your eyes, still bright and happy, looked around the Mall you both were in when they fell on two people staring from across the walkway.

•He saw you freeze and your eyes glaze over slightly making his eyes snap to whatever was making you react like this.

•He saw an older couple, almost glaring in your direction.

•He acted fast as he moved to block yours and their view. He stood in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look at him.

•Your eyes were still glazed over with an unknown emotion to him.

•He gave you a soft worried smile and took your hand and led you away.

•But not before hearing some words from the couple as you walked.

•"I see she's whoring herself out." "I wonder if she has a kid yet?" "She'd make for a useless mother if so." "She's probably living under a bridge in a tent she can't afford while sleeping with crack heads." "I bet that's her pimp with her now."

•Sylus' eye shined red as he heard the exchange, his blood boiling in red hot anger.

•Who were these people to talk about you like that?? Especially while he was in earshot.

•The rest of the day he spent just trying, trying his hardest, to make you feel better. To bring you back to laughing and smiling again.

•But all you said was, "Can I go home please?" In the small voice you used to talk in.

•He obliged, not wanting to overwhelm or overstep.

•When he dropped you off at your apartment, he... didn't want to leave you alone.

•He didn't worry about finding the couple from earlier, he already had Mephisto on them the moment they left the Mall. He was more worried about the look in your eyes.

•And more than pissed that those people made you shut yourself away from life- from him- again. After he worked so hard to get you to feel safe.

•You barely registered his presence in your apartment before you locked yourself in your bedroom, wanting to be alone.

•He understood and sat in your living room to wait for you to feel at least a little better.

•In his waiting he saw your book shelf and decided to read something of yours.

•The Book Thief...no, The Hobbit series...no, oh what's this? A notebook?

•He opened the book in curiosity only to be met with pages and pages of words, emotions, and... things he wishes weren't true. He thought this was a diary of some sort, he felt he shouldn't be reading this but something inside him wanted answers to why you act the way you do.

•The more he read the more an uncomfortable weight started settling in his chest. How have you been through so much...

•He put it together that those people might be your Mother and Stepdad. He could feel the red hot coals of anger towards them as he read what they did.

•He flipped through the notebook to the front and saw the title you gave it. 'My Death Book'.

•...

•Before he can think about it anymore, he takes quick, long strides towards your closed bedroom door.

•He knocked on the door softly, not waiting for an answer as he opened the door slightly to peek in.

•You were laying, curled up in the bed asleep.

•He walked over to check on you, to make sure the words in that book weren't going to come true. Ever.

•He wants to make sure you have a chance to forget, and never be reminded of any of it.

•He was going to make sure that you would never have to write something like that again, that you'll never feel like that again.

•One way to make sure you never ran into them again...was to take care of the problem at the cause.

•He texted Luke and Kieran a few details, just a screenshot of Mephisto's surveillance of the older couple and an order to 'take care of it.'

•He immediately got replies, '🫡' 'On it boss!'

•They didn't even question it, used to how he works by now.

•Now with that taken care of he sat down on the end of your bed. He reached over to play with a strand of your hair, a soft, protective look in his eyes.

•He just wants to lay with you, cuddle you, shower you in his love and kisses, but you aren't that close yet. He doesn't want to overstep more than he already does.

•He just wishes that he could have been there from the beginning, to make sure you kept your adorable shine.

•No one messes with his Sweetie and gets away with it.

**IT HAS BEEN UPDATED lol just a few things here and there to pull it together and make some things make more sense. Sorry lol**

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace imagine #lads sylus #lads angst #lads

82 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

Note

I know that you don't take request right now but I just had to submit this one before I forget it lol. I'm hoping that you'll write it when your requests are open again?

So anyway, reader is ridoc's twin/sister (he's hilarious) and she walks in on someone trying to kill bodhi so she helps bodhi fight him and later takes care of his injury and he falls for her. The following days someone keeps leaving little gifts for her (protective ridoc lol) and reader approaches bodhi to ask what he's doing and he confesses that he likes her

Not exactly like the request but close by and way longer than I thought it would be. So many of you bad missed Bodhi so here we are.

Angel eyes

It truly was luck. Luck and nothing more. You had separated from the girls after your nightly walk. A way you bunch decompressed after a long day of training. It felt better like that. Easier. With no one able to walk in on you chatting. You had stayed out longer after swearing to be careful, simply because the night was warm and you enjoyed nothing more than being able to watch the stars. They reminded you of home. All the people you had left behind.

You had rounded the staircase not longer than an hour later when you heard muffled sounds. Not a lot of cadets followed the curfew hours so at first you brushed it off to someone sneaking around the same way you were. Just the higher you climbed the more it didn’t sound like innocent chatter. No. It sounded as if someone was struggling. The scraping against the rock walls. The pained growls. You pulled the blade from your boot, one that your brother had kindly gifted you. Testing the weight of it in your palm before letting your senses guide you to the noise. It probably wasn’t all that smart to approach something like that alone but something from deep within urged you to.

And there there they were. Two males held Bodhi’s hands while the third one sent punches into his stomach. The sight made you stumble for a moment. Bodhi was a great fighter. You had the honor of being assigned him as a partner on the mats. This felt wrong. They have had to drug him. Used something to weaken his link with Cuir. Blood that soaked the gag now had been the thing that sent you into action.

Using the shadows to your advantage. You crept closer. Sending your brother’s dagger flying. Not stopping to look if it landed the target because you knew that it did. And there was no time to admire your handy work. The less time they had to realize that they weren’t alone anymore the better. Right as the dagger met the guy who’s been punching Bodhi neck, your hands were already around the second male's neck twisting it with a painful crack.

It’s the third guy who instantly backs away from Bodhi, sending his body crumpling to the ground. He’s the one to meet your black eyes. You can feel that he wants to run. That he’s panicking. That he’s petrified because he can’t move. Your power is too deep in his system. “Lucky for you, I need someone to speak about this to”, you step closer to him, “And you will voluntarily do it, won’t you?”, he barely nods, shallow breaths barely hitting his lungs. You smile up at him watching as he tries to do the same but your power seizes his muscles. Making him hit the floor too as he wriggles in soundless spasms.

You turn back to Bodhi, who had crawled to rest against the wall. Hand draped over his middle. You cross the distance in a couple of smooth strides, dropping to your knees. Bodhi instantly flinched trying to pull back. You two weren’t necessarily strangers but you weren’t friends. He was in the ranks up above the group of people you hang out with. But you saw him around, trained at times.

“Let me help”, you muttered, “Can I pull your shirt up?” You caught his gaze, right as he pulled the blood rag from his mouth. His nod was subtle. Easy to miss but you caught it nodding alongside him. Gently pull up the material.

“Shit”, you hissed. The skin was already turned black and blue. They sure didn’t hold back, “You need to… We need to get you to the healers”. A slight panic flickered in your chest. His friends were on patrol tonight too. Meaning you quite literally had no help to call out to. But Bodhi didn’t even nod as he watched you.

“Bodhi, you need to show me that you can hear me, okay?”, you muttered, cupping his cheek with your palm. “I will get you some help”, you nodded at him, looking into the eyes of someone who seemed to look past you now. Cursing beneath your breath you turned around looking at the corridors that stretched out, hoping to find any sort of movement. “Pretty”, the sound was groggy and tired. You halted. “So… pretty”, he breathed out. “What?”, you muttered, your eyes catching his one last time before his body slumped down.

Bodhi felt like his whole body was on fire. At times he was sure that he had died and it was the flames of the underworld liking at his skin. But in flashes of consciousness, there were voices. Muffed ones and unrecognizable. But most importantly there was a girl. One that constantly leaned over him, brushing at his hair. Her cold fingers felt heavenly against Bodhi’s burning skin. And those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes looked down at him. So pretty. So unbelievably pretty.

Quite frankly Bodhi was convinced that whoever his angel was he had dreamed. Hallucinated. Until he had finally been able to get to the main floors. Both Xaden and Garrick were on either side of him. Even if they said that they weren’t worried they had been mother hens to him ever since.

But only a couple of steps in Bodhi halted. A full-body shiver ran through him. It felt like a fever dream all over again. “What is it?”, Garrick gripped Bodhi’s upper arm but he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to get his words out. “I told you that you should have still stayed in bed, Bodhi, damn”, Xaden stepped in front of his cousin. Bodhi shook his head, pulling at Xaden’s shoulder, “Her”, he breathed.

Both males turned to where Bodhi was pointing, before sharing a look. They had interrogated the one suspect who had been neatly delivered all tied up. But no one knew who had done the handy job because Bodhi’s stories had been well… rather delirious. “What about her?”, Garrick asked, look at the way Bodhi glanced at you as if you had carried the moon and sun. “That’s Ridoc’s sister, Bodhi. Violet’s friend”, Xaden muttered.

Bodhi pulled at their grip, rushing through the crowd. He knew he had seen you before but this. You looked like an angel in his head and now you were here. “You”, he breathed, making you turn your head at the new voice. “Durran, good to see you on your feet”, you shot him a smile. You didn’t want to make a big fuss. No one knew what had happened that night and you preferred it that way. “You were there. I saw you”, he muttered. Your brother raised his eyebrow shooting you a strange look. So much for a secret.

“Come”, you pulled at his hand, wanting to get away from the crowd of people. “Look, I did what I had to”, you breathed as you two rounded the corner of a more secluded area, “If your friend needs help with solving…” but you didn’t get to finish the sentence as two strong arms warped around your shoulder. Your body stiffened for a second. He was hugging you… You slowly raised your arms as well, careful to not hurt him. The bruises on his body still vivid in your head.

“Thank you”, Bodhi breathed, “I thought I had imagined you”. You chuckled, “Most would say that’s quite a nightmare”. Budhi shook his head as he slowly pulled away, “I thought quite the opposite”, he admitted, swallowing thickly, “I thought you were an angel. Your eyes…”, he muttered moving to cup your cheek. You felt your face burning crimson, fighting the urge to look down. “So pretty”, he breathed out.

“Is that what you were referring to back in the corridor when I…”, you frowned. Surely, not. He wouldn’t have noticed that. “Yeah…”, Bodhi breathed, his face growing red as he pulled back, clearing his throat, “Sorry, that’s stupid”. But you caught his wrist, “No, it’s sweet. No had ever thought that they were… well… pretty”. Your eyes locked and for a moment you two just stood in silence. “Can we meet up sometime?”, Bodhi breathed after a moment. You chuckled, “Sure, if you’re not scared that my brother will kill you with a fork”, you nodded towards the table where Ridoc had unfortunately seen you two talk. So much for a secluded spot. Bodhi huffed, “I think, I can handle a fork”.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran fourth wing #bodhi durran iron flame #bodhi fourth wing x reader #bodhi fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #iron flame x reader #iron flame imagine

271 notes · View notes

everything-is-as-it-was · 5 months ago

Text

My TIT Berlin experience!

Here's all the things that happened during the show that stood out to me as probably things that don't always happen/ were specific to our show:

They came out wearing shorts because it was a super hot day in Berlin, Dan said they had performed in the same venue for ii as well and distinctly remembers rivulets of sweat cascading down his arms

They made the dolls 69 :(

During the Phil Doctor bit, people shouted "scheiße" for the first one, and the typer write it as "scheisse." Dan asked "do we not have the B thing?!" and the person then proceeded to write "scheisseBBBB" on the screen. We had the same answer for the NEXT two questions and they were written: "scheiBBBBe" and then simply "BBBBB"

Phil seemed to forget a line and laughed after Dan looked at him pointedly at the beginning of the game show bit

Dan had to repeat the fact that they put Vegas pages in Tabinof twice in order for them to actually put it on the screen

Someone shouted cat whiskers when Dan asked what their legacy would be

The wrestling went as expected (notable instances include but are not limited to: Phil shoving the pompoms of a hat while standing over Dan. Dan trying to hit Phil with a metal chair. Phil slamming Dan's head into said metal chair. Dan biting Phil. Dan holding Phil hostage, prompting Phil to ram his ass into his crotch. Three times.)

Dan was very very sweaty after the wrestling (lol)

After Dan's little monologue once the wrestling was over, Phil came out and there was a super awkward pause where I think someone forgot their lines (I remember there being a pause and Phi saying "......what are you talking to them about?"

The confessions bit:

Someone pegged a cop that was their ex's friend

Two ppl got engaged

Person's friend cancelled on them so they sold their ticket to buy merch (this was also stated on a card in the phlit during the pre show)

During the dance bit Phil was very obviously looking at Dan. Dan was very into it but Phil is so me in that he looked quite honestly lost lmao

After the show we stood by the stage door and Dan and Phil came out in a big black van with tinted windows. It was very difficult to see inside lol. Then about 15 minutes later one of the members of their staff (british ginger guy with a beard) came out and said "they" (dnp ig) texted him and wanted to make sure people weren't waiting at the door anymore since they were gone, so he just wanted to let us know they'd already left in case we didn't know.

#dan and phil #dnp #phan #dan howell #dip and pip #phil lester #dapg #danandphil #dan and phil games #amazingphil #tit tour #terrible influence tour #titspoilers #dnptitspoilers #tit berlin

61 notes · View notes

dandeleon · 6 days ago

Text

BONUS POST ABT MY ADIPOCERE & URAPOCERE AMVS BC I FEEL LIKE YAPPING 😋 HASHTAG AUTISM

hiiii first of all tysm for all the nice tags & comments on both of these it genuinely means the world 2 me ^_^🩷🩷🩷🩷yay

(theres some specific tags i talk abt & look at further at the bottom of this post ^_^)

ok first if u read the tags on my adipocere animation u remember i said ive had the idea 4 them since august Which is true

so heres some stuff ive made b4 i realized i could make my own amvs

this picture uve probably seen i drew it back in like october?? I think?????

i dont like this as much anymore i wanna redraw it someday maybe

BUT

did u know i made another one with urapocere ford 2 parallel that one

it was gonna be in the same post as the other one but i didn't like how it turned out sooo it got scrapped

theres also this i made in early december

i think i planned on posting this but i forgor lol

feel free 2 read it all bc it still stands & is like the basis for my animations lol

theres also this

which i made in ms like a day or 2 before starting my animation & ended up re-using it 2 make this part:

also heres some early parts of the adipocere one:

^ this one i was planning on using which is why its coloured and animated but then i realized it looked like ass so i redid it👍

^ early ver of the beginning (threres an extra frame in the walk cycle here i think? i dont think i kept the 7th one in lol)

^early ver of uras beginning

heres some specific frames i like too ^_^

i think the expressions in these turned out rlly good :) esp the ford one.. my only goal for that one was to make him look like he was having the absolute worst time of his life & i think i did pretty good on that front lol

i have more but i hit the image limit LOL

anyways to finish my yap sesh off heres the last part of both animations side by side bc they parallel eachother & i think its neat :)

(hi its leon from the future, i lied here ur only halfway through this post sorry)

actually im gonna come back to this on my laptop & add more stuff maybe

if the post ends here its either bc i forgot to remove this text or tumblr decided to post this for me while trying save as draft

heyyy im on my laptop now ^_^ and also wondering why i didnt do it on here on the first place bc this is where all my images for this are anyways lmao

anyways!

heres more frames n stuff that i like

(most of these r from the urapocere one because that one ended up being a lot more polished)

^ frame by frame of that one part towards the end

my favs of these 4 are first & last one esp the last one i really like how that one came out ough.. the hand ended up looking rlly good imo (im a sucker for nicely drawn hands)

some particular frames from the final part i like :]

some i like bc i think they came out nice some i like cause they look goofy w/o context

an adi one!!!!

this is just that one part w/o the bg & harsh lighting

OTHER ONES!!!!!!

1: bord from the begining clip i like (theres another one i like from the same clip ill see if i can find it in my sea of folders l8r)

2: from the part near the end. i think it ended up looking cute (which was unintentional but i still like it)

3: blizzard ford (blizzardless edition)

4: fidds! i like this one :) im also running out of things to say

ALMOST FORGOR 2 PUT THIS ONE from adi

this ones probably my fav part from the whole adi amv tbh i think it turned out nice

moar fiddleford

heres that other bord one i mentioned ^_^ idky i just like how this one ended up looking lol

EXTRA SECTION BC THIS TAG MADE ME POG SO HARD

I DIDNT EVEN THINK OF THAT BUT IT FITS SO WELL AUGHHHHH

thank u person who added this tag ur going unamed bc i dont wanna put u on blast but ur tags on both posts made me smiles so big like. u get it🤝 u get what i was going for 🤝🤝🙏🙏🙏

i have more tags from these posts i wanted 2 add but apparently i hit the image limit :( sad

so im just gonna like vaguely mention them since i cant add images

another thing ppl tagged in the ura one was the yellow text changing the meaning to bill & i NEED u to know that was semi-unintentional. i literally just made the text yellow at the end so people didnt misinterpret that as ford saying it being like "thank GOD fiddlefart died i couldnt stand his ass lmao😂🙏" but thank you for making it look like i had a cool meaning behind it LOL. i think the concept of like it being something ford DID say about fiddleford when he quit the project & bill is repeating it back to him after finding fiddleford dead to torment him is a really cool idea actually waow.....

hold on im gonna be really normal abt that bc i think thats such a interesting way to interpret the lyrics.... like fiddleford left & ford was like "WHATEVER im finally free now without HIM around. hes gonna be looking at me enviously when IM the one with MY name and MY name ALONE on the nobel prize!!!!" & bill repeating those statements back when fiddleford is dead like "this is what u wanted!!! u wanted this!! ur free now!!!!" UGHH THATS SO COOL AND OR FUCKED UP ACTUALLY thank u to the ppl who tagged that im taking this interpretation & running with it i genuinely think its so cool omgggg

like i said in the tags of the urapocere post the lyrics were originally meant to fit fords warped view of fiddleford right after he quit the project but the mv leaves it kinda up to interpretation of whos saying what to who. my personal interpretation while making it was its kind of a mix of ford to fiddleford, ford to bill & bill to fiddleford and/or ford & literally any combination of those work i think tbh. choose ur own adventure who was the biggest hater there

also some tags on the adi one were interpreting where fidds was dragging ford to & i wanna say my personal vision of it was fiddleford kinda just finds fords body lying in the snow in the woods maybe (dont ask why fiddleford would be there.. idk cult things maybe..) and fiddlefords feels obligated to bring him back to the lab so he doesnt freeze to death (he wouldve just erased him & fords memory of it anyways) which is a bit ironic cuz fiddleford is the one who froze to death LMAO (and maybe ford did too idk... you decide)

another thing this goes back to that image towards the top of this post where i yapped abt the songs n how well they fit with fiddauthor & i wanna specifically talk abt the line talking abt icarus because??? oh my god????? literally i think that line alone is like half the reason i associate this song w/ fiddauthor so heavily bc its literally them??? fiddleford literally compares ford 2 icarus in j3 like... its too perfect..

that line alone is also the reason i added english captions to both of them i just wanted ppl to see the icarus line LMAO

another line i also mentioned in that pic was the one telling the other person to forget it all even their face & i think its pretty obvious why that one fits LOL

(feel free to add more thoughts abt them w/ these songs if u have any ^_^)

anyways. adipocere is my fav song ever & for the past few months ive been doing that thing where u imagine an amv in ur head to a song u like & im very happy i can like. actually look at them now. making these were alot of fun :]

i do have a LOT of personal nitpicks with these (ESP the first one) but that also might just be cause im the guy who had to make it frame by frame LOL

(one minor one is fords skintone in urapocere ended up a bit more grey than i wanted but also he is like. in the middle of being possessed & tortured by a whole ass demon soo. it works i suppose LOL [makes him look zombie-ish])

also i thought making these amvs would make me less insane abt associating these songs w/ fiddauthor but tbh i think i just strengthened it LMAO

Sorry if literally nothing in this post makes any sense im just typing shit 😭🙏

i was gonna add more in tags but it wont let me add anymore so i think that might be a sign to stfu now LMAO

#i yapped a lil too close to the sun with this one LMAO

21 notes · View notes

jinxsleftmiddlefinger · 19 days ago

Text

timebomb highschool au

(part 7)

(pt1) (pt2) (pt3) (pt4) (pt5) (pt6) (read on ao3)

description: timebomb highschool au pretty much sums it up lol. there’s also canon storylines (vander death, vi conflict etc.) but translated into a modern context

Saturday morning. The big day. Sister reunion attempt 2.

Jinx was so nervous she thought she was going to throw up.

It’s just Vi. She tried to remind herself, but she didn’t even know Vi anymore. Her sister had become a stranger, an outsider, a rich kid bootlicker.

Before Vi had reached out to reconcile, before that disastrous meeting at the mall, Jinx used to tell herself she did not miss her sister. Her sister abandoned her, betrayed her, and why would Jinx love someone who did that? She used to say she never wanted to see her sister again, even when she would lay awake at night and feel the pain in her chest, a big sister sized hole in her stupid heart.

Only now did she admit to herself that she missed Vi. She misses the old Vi at least, just like Vi misses Powder.

And both are gone for good.

Jinx didn’t know how this meeting today would go. She could only hope for something good, and that the stupid piltie girlfriend would not be here this time. She was a little afraid of what’d she do if she saw Caitlyn again.

The voices were loud today. They weren’t always there, but when they were, it was like her mind was at war. People she used to know, the people who knew Powder, would haunt her. Jinx liked to pretend them away, to pretend she was completely normal and totally not insane.

Through the clamour in her mind, she hears Vi’s car pull into the drive way. She fiddles with her fingers, waiting for her sister to knock.

The phrase ‘It’s just Vi’ sounded less reassuring and more threatening as each second ticked by.

Even though she expected the knock at the door, she still jumps at the sound. Her hand reaches tentatively towards the knob, still contemplating backing out of whatever she had agreed to. But she knew she couldn’t do that to her sister, who probably meant well. Probably.

The creaky door opened, revealing a girl with short pink hair, a wide eyed expression, and her hands in her pockets.

“Hi,” She says.

Jinx opens the door wider. “Come in. Don’t worry, Silco and Sevika are out.” She hopes her sister can’t hear the tremor in her voice.

Vi walks into the house, looking around with curiosity at the room around her. Jinx feels the need to hide her home, almost, like it was something too private for her estranged sister to see.

“Go, sit.” Jinx gestures towards the kitchen counter, at one of the stools surrounding it.

Vi sat down slowly, careful of her surroundings.

“Do you want, uh, something to drink?” Jinx asked, picking at her blue and pink painted fingers.

Vi looks down at the table, crossing her arms over the countertop. “Just water, please.”

As she reaches up to take a glass from the shelf, she hears Vi take a deep breath behind her, like she’s preparing for some kind of speech.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry, Jinx.” She starts. “When I was trying to make up for being a shitty sister, I ended up still doing something shitty. I shouldn’t have brought her, I know how you feel about…pilties.”

The word sounded unnatural in her mouth, like her tongue didn’t quite know how to form the insult.

“But I want to be in your life. I want to stay, Jinx. To be a good sister.”

Jinx’s hand freezes on the glass she was taking down from the cupboard. Her breath catches in her throat. Those words suddenly hit her like a train, running around and around in her mind.

I want to stay. I want to be in your life. I want to be a good sister.

And at the same time, she hears laughter. Not from the real world, but from the one in her mind; the one that was messy and full of scribbles and people that she needed to remember weren’t real.

‘She doesn’t mean that’, They whisper to her. She fights the urge to throw the glass against the wall, to run, to attack something. She was in control.

And Vi wouldn’t lie to her, not again.

“Really?” Jinx says. “You mean it?” She despises the hope I’m her voice, that childish, naive, sound of hope when she asks the question.

“Yes. Yes, of course, Pow- Jinx. Of course I mean it.”

Jinx shuts her eyes tight, imagining shooting a gun at all the voices in her head that just won’t shut up. And then, miraculously, they do.

She runs toward her sister, throwing her arms around her, the glass of water forgotten on the counter. “I want you to stay too, Vi.”

She isn’t lying this time, she really means it, Jinx knows that. She still struggles to banish the image of Caitlyn from her mind.

Jinx releases herself from her sister’s arms, remembering something she definitely should have mentioned before. “Silco will be home soon,” She says urgently. “You have to go, Vi, I’m sorry.”

“Wait-“ Vi stands up. “When can we meet up again?”

Jinx bites her lip. She didn’t know how smart it was to have Vi over at her house; they were bound to get caught at some point, and Silco wouldn’t be very happy about it. He didn’t ban her from seeing her sister again, but he clearly didn’t approve of it.

“I-I don’t know. Is somewhere else we could go, somewhere where…” She trails off, the end of that sentence obvious, at least to her: Somewhere Caitlyn won’t be.

“There’s this college party I’m going to tomorrow. Just by myself, Caitlyn doesn’t like parties, so…Maybe you could keep me company?” Vi smiled ever so slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, sure sis.” Jinx led her to the door. “Text me the address.”

“I will.” Vi looked reluctant to leave, her facial expression revealing she really had much more to say to her sister.

An idea popped into Jinx’s head as she opened the door for her sister. Her light smile turned into a smirk, holding the door,open to ask her sister one last question.

“Do you mind if I bring a friend, Vi?”

“Of course. No problem. Bring whoever you like.”

They hugged one last time, and Jinx felt three words on the tip of her tongue as she watched her big sister eat to her car. She wished she could say it; ‘I love you’, but she didn’t think she could do it if Vi didn’t first. The voices came back, her mind blurring and shrieking, screaming at her that Vi could never love Jinx, Vi only loved Powder.

She silenced those voices by bringing out her phone and opening her messages, clicking on a contact without a picture and only a few texts. Ekko’s contact.

Jinx: do u want to go to a party? (:

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane season 2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane spoilers #jinx #ekko #ekko x jinx #jinx and vi #vi and jinx #vi and powder #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #timebomb #ekkojinx #powder #jinx x ekko

24 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 9 months ago

Note

PLS PLS PLS GIVE US POLLY KICKING D WORD MATTY IN THE SHIN LORE AHHHHHHHHHHH *that’s me screaming at the top of my lungs omg*

buckle up, babies, it's lore time.

basically, on tour, when there's no show on a sunday (or even if there is, you'll do this before or after), you and the girls (polly and gabi, and if charli and mrs mac and carly are around they'll join in) congregate in someone's room to drink wine and eat snacks and gossip and watch a movie. sunday sesh. and you all agree to make a point of continuing it after tour each week or every couple of weeks, just for a catch up, alternating whose house you're all meeting at. the first sunday after tour ends, it's your flat at 6pm. cute, nice, fun.

unfortunately for you, quite literally as soon as the plane landed back in london, you and matty sped back to yours and have been holed up in the flat doing nothing but fucking (catching up on all the sex that was impossible to have on a packed tour bus), so fervently that to be completely honest neither of you have any idea what day it is anymore. so, yes, as you can imagine, sunday comes around, and you're practically none the wiser.

anyway, you and your boyfriend order a takeaway for dinner. the intercom buzzes, and nobody speaks, so you figure it's the food. matty - shirtless, literally wearing grey sweatpants and nothing else - says "babe, you get the plates, i'll go to the door for the food", and you - wearing underwear and one of his t-shirts - agree.

the door goes. matty opens it and goes into a coughing fit. because, as you've probably guessed by now, it's not the food at all, it's the girls. all of them. and they look HORRIFIED. carly nearly drops the literal box of wine bottles in her arms in shock, but gabi grabs them before they hit the ground.

nobody really seems to know what to say, until matty decides to awkwardly lean against the doorframe in an attempt to be casual and asks "so... what are you doing here?" - charli folds her arms and says "you answer that question first, healy", and he's like "um. hanging out". polly squints at him (she doesn't have her glasses on) and says "is your face wet? why?", and matty literally cannot resist smirking and saying "you're really asking me that? they could revoke your lesbian card for that, mate"; she scoffs and kicks him in the shin like "don't be such a twat" (but she does it harder than she means to and he's genuinely like "ow! pol!"), while the rest of the girls start groaning in exasperation at him being crude like "oh my god, i can't believe she's fucking you" and "give me strength" and "well, the slut uniform makes sense now" lmao.

meanwhile, you're back in the flat wondering why matty's taking so long, so you pad into the hallway like "baby? everything alright?", and when you hear what is unmistakably mrs mac screech "baby? what the fuck?" you blanch as you realise what day it is and run to the door to save your boyfriend from the wrath of the girls. like, you stand in front of him protectively (he puts his arms around your waist it's very cute) and muster up a smile like "hi girls. forgot it was sunday. soz. how are things with you all?", and mrs mac is like "don't deflect, sweetheart - explain. now", and you sigh like "you'd better come in. matty, babe, could you wait for the food while i talk to them for a second?", and he says "of course, darling", and kisses your nose to further noises of disgust (and an "awww!" from carly lol) as the girls make a beeline for the living room.

anyway, you're like "can i have two seconds to make myself presentable?", and charli's like "absolutely not. spill" - you take a deep breath, and you tell them everything. i mean, not the d word stuff, but the rest of it; you're like "first of all, just to preface, because i know you all worry about me - it's serious. very. we're in love, guys", and despite themselves everyone smiles. gabi's like "how long have you been, y'know, a thing?", and when you're tell them that it's been like 7 months "but we wanted to wait until tour was over to say, so nobody thought it was like, i don't know, just a fling while we were away together, or that he was taking advantage of me" they're all like "jesus. alright".

matty comes back into the room just as polly says "you've seemed a lot happier on this leg of tour, to be honest. so has he, actually", and he giggles when you quip "yeah, well, it's nice having someone to fall asleep with in hotel rooms. and the other stuff that happens in there". mrs mac takes a long drink of wine and winces as matty snuggles in beside you and digs into idk chow mein or whatever, and she's like "the realisation that all of your sex stories were about matty... i feel a bit ill. i should not have asked for details about the hot tub. or the time i caught you having phone sex on the bus. or the time i heard you through the wall and you told me it was the best sex you'd ever had. christ"; matty's like "best sex you've ever had? aww, babe", and you roll your eyes while he kisses your head but you smile and kiss his hand. carly giggles like "you guys are actually really cute, you know. adam thinks so too" - matty sits up straight like "carly you did not tell the boys please tell me you didn't", and charli's like "of course we did. had it in the chat before your girlfriend even appeared. also they're on their way over, squizz and john and all, so i'd put some clothes on unless you want them to rip the piss out of you even more than they're already going to". you giggle while matty groans and trudges off to get a shirt and some leggings for you, and on his way back mrs mac corners him in the hallway and says "you know i love you, and i'm actually really glad you're happy and you're dating someone who's not a dick. but i love her just as much as i love you, and i promise you that if you ever hurt her, healy, i WILL castrate you with a pair of nail scissors. got it?"; he's like "jesus alright. but i won't hurt her, mate. she's it for me, really. gonna marry her one day. m'serious", and she beams like "oh, that's lovely. still. i'm keeping nail scissors in my bag from now on. just in case" lol. but yeah! that's how everyone finds out about you and matty lmao

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty #lore asks

59 notes · View notes

surrogate-fawn · 1 year ago

Text

End of Term (NYC College AU)

Part 1 of 2

(Link to Part 2 will appear here when posted)

Summary: Fawn is a small-town girl from West Virginia trying to find her future in the Big Apple. She's left everything from her past behind her . . . or so she thinks. During her final exams, Fawn is completely unaware that she's been pregnant since before the semester began -- and her labor has started. As her discomfort grows more intense throughout the day, Fawn gets a little closer to discovering the cause of it. Hopefully, it doesn't take her too long to figure it out.

((This story features Newt, who belongs to @mittysins.))

TW: Cryptic pregnancy, graphic bodily descriptions, implications of past abuse, emotionally traumatic birth experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I still wasn't used to the subway trains. Sitting on one was like riding an elevator sideways during an earthquake. The g-force of every start and stop made my stomach lurch, and I still almost flew outta my seat every time. I could expect to be a little queasy by the time Newt and I reached our last stop -- and that was when I didn't wake up sick.

"Bleh. I blame YOU for this!" I text messaged Newt, despite the fact he was sitting a few seats over. He was sitting in our usual spot, but that morning I needed to sit in the back corner, where I could curl up and rest against the wall.

I saw Newt check his phone from the corner of my eye, and seconds later I got his reply: "How is indigestion MY fault?"

"I didn't even want takeout until YOU asked for it." I was sure to put a goofy emoji at the end of the message to show I was being sarcastic.

"Sorry. Cravings." Newt replied. A second later he sent a gif of a cartoon cat shrugging.

I leaned over and met his eyes with a deliberately exaggerated frown. There were several strangers sitting between us, and I probably looked crazy -- but what else was new in this city? I hit 'send', and watched Newt check his phone. I delighted in his held back snicker when he saw the giant picture of a middle finger on his screen.

That morning marked the start of our first finals week as freshman at Queens College. Newt and I had stayed up as late as possible, doing some last-minute study cramming at my apartment. Now that Newt was entering his second trimester, he was trading in his morning sickness for late-night cravings of Chinese food -- specifically steamed dumplings with fried rice (but it had to be plain rice, he'd cried when I'd accidentally ordered the pork rice).

"You're a bad influence on me, lol. I need to stop joining in on your craving binges." I hugged my backpack tighter to my stomach as my guts cramped again.

"I'm not the one who ordered two boxes of sesame chicken and three extra egg rolls." Newt retorted. A second later: "Not to mention the lo mein."

"The lo mein was supposed to be for lunch today! >:("

"Ye right. ;)"

Fine, yeah, I'd overdone it last night. I could barely contain myself around food anymore. Ever since I'd arrived in New York City that past summer, I'd been overeating. I guess I was eating my emotions. The stress had been piling up all fuckin' semester!

Moving from the suburbs of West Virginia to such a huge city had my nerves fried by the time I settled into my teeny-tiny apartment that was more expensive than a house back home. Stacked on that was the anxiety of starting school. Stacked on that was the fact my roommate, Makayla, refused to do her share of chores. Stacked on that was homesickness. Stacked on that was studying enough to not lose my scholarship. Then stacked on all of that, my one and only friend in this city was dealing with an unplanned pregnancy.

If my next-door neighbor hadn't been Newt, I'd still be floundering. Without a doubt. We clicked at first sight, as if we'd known each other in a past life. He was my lifeline. Newt had lived in Manhattan all his life, but Queens College was the only local school within his budget and that's how we'd ended up in the same off-campus student housing. He was the one that taught me street-smarts -- which roads to avoid at night, where the best Mom-and-Pop restaurants were, how to hail a cab, and how to read the hieroglyphics that were the subway maps. Although we'd only been friends for barely a month when he knocked on my door with a positive pregnancy test and tears in his eyes, I'd never thought twice about being his shoulder to cry on and his hand to hold.

I didn't care if worrying over him added to the stress of my new life here, it was a worry I gladly carried.

But it seemed all that stress was finally catching up to me.

As the train came to another screaming halt, I was twisting myself into a pretzel. My stomach was cramping again, straining hard to move along the mountain of food I'd eaten twelve hours earlier. The doors slid open, and several passengers I recognized as fellow students stood up. Newt joined them, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder and plucking the air pods out of his ears. I knew I needed to get up, but my legs needed a few extra seconds of convincing.

"You good?" Newt asked as he watched me lift myself off the seat in segments.

"I'm fine," I said, walking with him onto the platform. "I just hope that Pepto kicks in soon."

"How many exams you got today?"

"Three," I groaned, my head falling back on my shoulders. "Chemistry, biology, and that stupid-ass remedial algebra class."

"Ha! I've only got two," Newt gloated, pausing to zip up his oversized red jacket.

"Uh-huh, but don't you have to wait eight hours between them?"

"Gives me plenty of time to study," he said as we continued up the station stairs. The sonofabitch was talking like he hadn't been complaining all week about his morning class and evening class having the same exam day.

"Please," I smirked, rolling my eyes, "I know you're just gonna play The Sims 4 on your laptop."

We both shivered as we walked out of the muggy underground and into the biting cold winds coming off the harbor. I pulled my hood over my head and pulled the drawstrings tighter around my neck.

"You can't prove anything," Newt grinned, his breath coming out as a soft cloud.

I gave him a comedically unamused look. "You're pregnant, so I'm not gonna hit you."

Newt chuckled and placed his hand over the small, four-month bump that was hiding under his jacket. "Thanks for the save, kiddo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk to campus was only two blocks, but it felt like I was forcing myself to trudge through mud. I regretted ordering so much food. Clearly, I hadn't learned my lesson, yet.

My overeating the last few months had me in a constant state of bloat. It always felt like a giant water balloon was sitting right on my guts. I was peeing every few minutes, my kidneys working overtime to get rid of the extra fluid I was holding. Gas bubbles were always rolling through me, too. They were mostly just annoying blips of movement but recently they'd gotten painful.

The worst were the large pockets of air that got trapped under my ribs. They would stay there for hours sometimes, making it excruciating to breathe. Nothing in the world could help me when I got like that; I just had to go about my day in agony and wait until the pressure spreading my ribs apart decided to move along.

By now, I was kinda used to functioning while my intestines were trying to kill me; but, God, they were trying extra hard that day.

My stomachache flared up right outside the library, the shortcut I took to get to chemistry class. I sat down on a bench, gripping the edge of the seat and trying not to double over. My sides ached, and a deep stabbing pain plunged deep inside my abdomen. The invisible knife twisted, and I realized I was holding my breath.

"Fawn?"

I looked up at Newt, who had doubled back to check on me. His first class was on the other side of campus, and the library was where our daily routes split for most of the day.

"I'll be fine," I said, waving him away. "I'll buy a soda at lunch. That usually helps."

Newt glanced over his shoulder, down the path he was supposed to take, and then stepped a little closer. "I won't be out of here until five. Don't wait up for me, okay? When you're done with exams, just go home."

"Yeah, I will," I nodded. "That sounds good."

Newt nodded back, looking a lot more at ease. "Is it okay if I come over with some soup later? I found a new recipe online and it looks really good!"

"That's fine," I said, stretching my arms over my head to loosen up my torso. "Just use your key. I'll see 'ya then, bud."

"See you then." He gave me a two-fingered salute and continued on his way.

I checked the time on my phone and sighed. I had to get moving again, or else I'd have half my final exam score deducted for being late. My chemistry professor was a real stickler for being on-time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd moved to New York City to finally get my degree in Botany & Plant Science. It'd been my dream for a while to become a researcher and study the pharmaceutical use of plants. Having a pair of old hippies as parents will inspire that interest in 'ya. Queens College was the best scholarship I could get out-of-state, and I had to be out-of-state. I just had to be.

I already had trouble fitting in with my classmates as a "mature" undergrad student. Since when was twenty-nine considered too "mature" for college?! All of my subjects were basic introductory courses, and that meant I was surrounded by fresh-faced teenagers less than a year out of high school. Even Newt wasn't that young. He'd taken a few years off before college, but apparently twenty-four was still young enough to fit in with the crowd.

At least not having any classroom friends meant I was left alone that morning. I sat in my assigned seat and watched the rest of the students file in from the hallway. The desk allowed me to hunch down when my stomach clenched again, the muscles in my abs pinching hard. I crossed my legs and bounced my foot, trying to distract myself from the storm brewing inside me as the professor laid out the rules of the exam period.

I was in pain for that entire hour. It was hard to keep up with the time limit. I had to pause on several multiple-choice questions -- sometimes because they were challenging, other times because the stabbing, twisting pain was flaring up. I began fantasizing about how good I'd feel after I was able to get my hands on a soda, and that daydream carried me through.

Shockingly, I was one of the first students to stand up -- and I'd finished with barely eleven minutes to spare. My professor nodded at me as I placed my exam packet on his desk, and he quietly wished me a good winter break as I shuffled out the door.

Freedom at last! There were about two hours to kill before my biology exam, so I was sure with a light snack and some rest I'd be feeling better by then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd worked hard to build up enough of a nest egg to live off in New York. I'd squirreled money away for three years in a secret bank account, and lied to Alexander about how much my hourly pay was. My scholarship covered only part of my housing costs, and I knew living off savings couldn't last all four years of school. However, I was not going to stress over buying a three-dollar root beer when it felt like I was being wrung like a washcloth.

The dining hall at Queens was a glorified cafeteria: fold-out tables, plastic chairs, too much noise and not enough space. I really wasn't hungry, but I knew if I skipped out on lunch I would regret it later. So, I stopped by the Nathan's stand to grab a hotdog and bag of plain potato chips to go with my large cup of carbonated medicine.

I made do with sitting at the empty end of a crowded table, where the huddle of dudes at the other end were playing Magic: the Gathering. That stuff was more Newt's scene than mine, so I put my earbuds in and pulled up the YouTube app on my phone.

The Peanuts Christmas special played on my screen as I nibbled on chips and washed the salt away with long swigs of root beer. I was hoping to summon a little Christmas spirit to help me not feel so dead inside. It was two weeks away, and it was the little candy-red cherry atop my mountain of things to worry about. Between hesitant bites of hotdog, I wondered how I could pry some gift ideas out of Newt last-minute. I'd already gotten him an Amazon gift card, but I wanted to get him something a little more per-.

I sucked a sharp breath through my nostrils, choking on half-chewed bread as my stomach cramped again. It didn't feel the same as the hundreds of other cramps I'd been having. This one was bad. It was really. Fucking. Bad! I curled up in the seat, my hands dipping inside my hoodie pocket to press against my stomach. Even through three layers of clothing, I could feel my muscles clenching.

And it just wouldn't stop. Most of them would fade after a few seconds, but this one just kept going. I doubled over, pressing on my belly and praying the pain would stop.

And then it stopped.

I sat up straight and looked around. No one nearby was paying any attention, but my freckles turned pink anyway as I quickly rose and tossed what was left of my food in the trash. I chugged the rest of the soda.

There were still two exams to go, but I was already checked out for the day. I knew there was a bottle of cupcake vodka leftover from Makayla's birthday party last month. Mixed in a milkshake, that stuff had been sweet enough to give me both a sugar high and a buzz. Maybe if the soda didn't do the trick I'd go home and try soothing my stomach with one of those. I deserved one already, and it wasn't even noon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hurt to be upright.

My biology exam was half lab work and half a written test. The class was split into two groups: one to do the lab first, and one to do the written exam first. Guess which one I was in.

I was white-knuckling that clipboard as I quietly shuffled from one specimen sample to the next. Identify this bone. Identify that leaf. Is this a rock or a fossil? I was rocking my weight from side-to-side as subtly as I could. The cramping hadn't eased up since lunch. I was feeling this one down to the soles of my feet and keeping 'em moving was the only way I could stay standing.

At the apex of the cramp, I grit my teeth as a new pain bloomed deep inside my hips. I leaned my weight over the table, disguising the motion as trying to get a better look at a specimen. A knife-like stab hit my cervix and the ache radiated between my legs.

Ah, okay. I knew that kind of pain, even if it'd been a while.

No wonder the indigestion was so bad. I always got an upset stomach the day my period was due to start. 'Course, I could never tell when I was due. I tried tracking them, but ever since puberty they'd been on a schedule of their own. My cycles had been mild spotting for most of that year, so I figured there was a mighty buildup of Mother Nature in there that was trying to come out. No wonder I was already cramping so hard.

Oh, boy . . . and from my experience, I could tell I was in for a world of hurt once I actually started bleedin'.

I made it through the written half of the exam free of carnage. The pain was somehow easier to deal with when I knew it was all just hormones. At the water fountain down the hall, I popped a few ibuprofen out of my purse and downed them. There, now I knew I'd be feeling better once those puppies kicked in.

Another two hours, and I'd be free to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was relaxing on a sofa in the library when I suddenly felt a pouring wetness in the crotch of my pants. Ah, fuck. Fuck!

I left my backpack behind in a panic and speed-walked to the nearest restroom. I subtly pulled my hoodie as far over my hips as possible, hoping to hide anything that leaked through my sweatpants as I shuffled past other quietly studying students. I cussed myself out in my head for not thinking to put on a pad as soon as I started cramping.

Once I was hidden away in a stall, I inspected the damage. My underwear was damp with a watery pink discharge as well as several dark red clots. Yes, some of it had seeped through my pants, but not enough to be noticeable. I could still feel it dripping down into the toilet as I tried to clean everything up.

All it took was that first drop of blood for the cramps to reach their full strength. That was always the case when I missed a few periods. I pressed my lips together to stop a groan from escaping as I doubled over and hugged my midsection. My entire torso throbbed and clenched inward. My toes curled inside my sneakers as the pain once again trickled down to the soles of my feet. My jaw locked up as I grit my teeth against the pain, and I felt a charlie horse starting in the back of my neck.

Everything. Fucking. HURT.

The cramp left me feeling slightly weak. It didn't just disappear, it just . . . settled back into my muscles as a soft, constant ache. I held a wad of toilet paper between my legs for a few seconds, and in that short amount of time it was soaked in pastel pink. The floodgates had opened, and it wasn't going to stop. This pink discharge was no doubt going to become a full red tide by the time I got home.

I returned to the couch wearing a cheap cotton pad from the restroom vending machine. Although it wasn't smart, I swallowed two more ibuprofen dry. I sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, killing the last forty minutes before my exam watching videos on my phone.

The cramps just kept coming. I kept feeling blood gushing out of me and into the pad. My labia were constantly throbbing, and not in the good way. Every time I cramped, it felt like I was being turned inside out.

I seriously considered blowing off my algebra exam. I would fail the class, but I could just re-take it next semester, right? Maybe I could re-schedule the final if I brought in a doctor's note? Well, fuck . . . no, I couldn't do that. My health insurance wouldn't fully cover an emergency room visit and I doubted a doctor's note from three days after the final would be able to save my sorry ass.

Besides, I hated remedial algebra so much I felt nauseous at the thought of doing it again. I was just gonna have to suck it up and get through it like everyone else. Then, I wouldn't have to think about anything else until tomorrow.

God, why me?! Why today of all days to start the worst period in the history of mankind?!

I wondered if there was some cosmic deity out there who was taking joy in my suffering. If so, at least this pain was good for something in the grand scheme of things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the biting December air, I felt sweat dripping down my back as I trudged across campus to attend my last exam. It hurt to walk. It hurt to stand. Hell, it just hurt to exist. I made myself keep a steady pace, although my body was demanding I stop with every cramp. When that telltale stabbing would start in my lower back, all I wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry; but I was a grown-up, and I had grown -up stuff to do.

When I sat at my desk, my hips jolted up as if the hard plastic seat had burned me. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and my face burned in embarrassment as everyone turned to look at me. I started a chesty cough to disguise the sound.

I hadn't noticed it when sitting on the plush couch, but my labia were ungodly swollen and sore. This was not something that usually happened during my period. I knew my hormones were way out of whack this time around, so . . . maybe it was some weird hormonal reaction?

Whatever it was, it wasn't making the exam any easier.

My whole weight was sitting square on my pelvis in that uncomfortable classroom desk, and it was torture. I tried sitting as far back as I could to take the pressure off, but that just made my tailbone hurt, too.

My pencil slipped in my wet palm as I desperately tried to fill the bubbles in on my scantron sheet. I wriggled my hips, trying in vain to find a way to sit that didn't hurt like hell. Sweat began to drip from under my sports bra beneath my layers of clothing. It was taking everything in my power not to beg my professor to let me take the exam while lying on the floor. Fuck, I'd even do it standing on my head -- anything to get the pressure off my poor vagina.

Ten minutes in I decided to leave my final grade up to fate. I was in so much pain, I no longer cared if I failed the class. I chose my answers based on educated guesses, skipping the solving process entirely.

I was staggering to my feet within twenty minutes, and my professor gave me a scowl when he saw my worksheet hardly had any equations written on it. He leaned in as I placed my scantron on his desk.

"I hope you know you've wasted your time," he whispered, glowering at me from under his bi-focals. "You may as well have not showed up."

The only answer I could offer was a nod. I hurried into the hallway, tears blurring my vision.

I knew I'd wasted my time. I knew I'd fucked myself over. The further I walked down the hall, the more I regretted not trying harder.

I threw the test after ten fuckin' minutes, just so I could go home and be lazy. I wasn't sick, I was just on my period! What sorry excuse was that for wasting tuition money? There were probably dozens of other students in the same amount of pain I was in, but they weren't throwing away their grades over it. God, I was pathetic. I was so determined to pass this stupid remedial class at the start of the semester, even if it was with a 'C', but in ten minutes I'd given up.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe I was just too damn stupid to be here.

By the time I stepped outside, I was crying. I pulled up my hood to hide the tears and kept my head down as I began the long walk off campus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noon train wasn't as packed as the seven o'clock train, but it was still too full for my liking. That was what I hated about the city; you couldn't go anywhere without brushing shoulders with a stranger.

There were available seats, but I couldn't sit down. My lower lips were throbbing with my heartbeat. I had my arm wrapped around a standing bar, clinging for dear life against the g-forces of the train. My stance had to be wider than natural, or else my thighs would pinch and cause a hot, pulsating pain through my stomach. I knew I probably looked like a drunk trying to hold themselves up against gravity, but I reminded myself that New Yorkers see things like that on the trains all the time. No one would say anything as long as I kept to myself. My hood was still up to hide the leaks in my eyes, the flow of tears I couldn't fully control.

I clung tighter to the bar as I cramped again, and a warm gush soaked into the pad between my legs. My eyes dripped as they stared off into nothing, my mind going blank from the pain. A sudden "buzz-buzz" from the phone in my pocket brought me back from the void. I blinked my vision clear and checked the text message. It was from Newt, replying to a text I'd sent earlier:

"Sorry ur feeling so shit :( You going home?"

I rested my temple against the smudged chrome pole and typed my reply:

"On the train now."

Three grey dots appeared below my message.

Buzz-buzz.

"Still want me to come over??"

I replied: "Yeah. Makayla's with her boyfriend for the week and I need distraction."

Grey dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Awww poor bb. A whole apartment all to yourself. Glad I'm not THAT unlucky. /s "

I grinned and dried half my face on my shoulder. Newt had never fit in with his roommate's group of frat boy sports fans. Just like I had never gelled with Makayla's crowd of hardcore party girls. They weren't "bad" people, they were just . . . not "our" people.

"We need new roommates," I typed.

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Ye."

I felt another huge gush, and my thighs pressed together in response. My inner cheek bled as my teeth chopped through it. Fuck. Forgot to not do that.

That cheap pad didn't feel like it was gonna hold up much longer. The last thing I needed was to reenact the elevator scene from The Shining in front of two dozen strangers on the subway. I pulled my hoodie further over my hips, just in case.

"Fair warning," I typed, "my apartment might be a bloodbath by the time you get there."

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!"

"Omfg."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ohhh my fucking god."

I angled my lower back into the stream of hot water, pressing my hands into the glass wall of the shower. I hung my head as my body gradually clamped down on itself like a vice, tighter . . . tighter . . . tighter. Now that I was safely inside the privacy of my apartment, I could finally deal with the pain how I wanted: whining like a 'lil bitch.

"Ohhh my fucking god," I repeated, the sentence crawling out of my mouth as a slurred moan.

The water splashed pink at my feet. A few dime-sized globs of red fell onto the shower mat and were washed away. My pad had been soaked through with that thin pink discharge, but hardly any real blood. My body must've been trying to break my uterus open like a piggy bank to get out what it needed, because I felt like I was dying.

"God," I dragged the word out for a solid minute in a deep, angry groan as I sank to my knees. I ran out of breath, but the pain kept going. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and pitched forward, eyelids pinched shut and teeth open in a gaping snarl. The muscles in my torso vibrated with tension. It was hard to breathe, my ribs too tight to get a full breath. The air I managed to suck in came back out as another drawn-out groan: "Fuck."

I'd been trying for hours to ease the cramping and indigestion that were teaming up to kill me. I'd taken enough ibuprofen to drop a horse. I'd taken Pepto-Bismol like shots of tequila. Heating pads had helped, but not for long. I'd put an ice pack between my legs to bring down the swelling, but the ice stung. I'd turned the temperature as high as I could tolerate and was now face-down on the shower floor, letting the water hit anywhere it could reach. My skin was scalded red, but the iota of relief I got was worth it.

Knock, knock, knock. Three solid knocks on the bathroom door.

I knelt there with my cheek in a puddle of water, too engulfed in pain to react.

"Soup delivery!" A cheery tenor voice on the other side, somewhat drowned by the water rolling over my ears.

Newt? What was he doing here? He didn't leave school until five. Shit, what time was it? How long had I been home?

I lifted myself onto my elbows, blowing out a long breath as I waited for the pain to fade. As soon as it did, I called loud enough for Newt to hear me over the roar of the shower:

"I'll be out in a sec. Just put everything in the kitchen."

"M'kay."

I didn't hear Newt walk away, but I heard his heavy crockpot being set on the counter -- the kitchen shared a wall with the bathroom. God, that apartment was tiny.

Ugh. I had to get up. I'd been in there too long. The water was turning cold. My hands and feet were pruney. I had to get up. I had to get up.

I climbed up the slick glass wall, leaving smeared handprints in the condensation. The higher I stood on my feet, the worse I felt; but if you'd asked me to describe how, I wouldn't have known what to say. I steadied myself, turned the water off, and opened the shower door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a fresh bowl waiting for me on the counter as I stepped into the kitchen, but I didn't have an appetite.

"Don't like it?" Newt asked, serving himself a helping of soup from the crockpot.

My hair was hanging limp around my face and shoulders, dripping water like the branches of a weeping willow; but the droplets rolling down my neck weren't water. A sticky layer of sweat was coating my back and my legs beneath my plush winter pajamas. The bowl of homemade French onion soup sat untouched and steaming in front of me.

"No, it looks good," I said. "I just don't really feel like eat--ugh!" Another cramp started and this time I didn't hold back a moan of pain. "Augh!"

Newt set his bowl on the stove and took a few soft-footed steps towards me. "Does your period usually hurt like this?" he asked, rubbing his hand over my back.

I shook my head and braced my hands against the counter, unable to answer him with words. I tried to speak, but my mouth would only allow a series of small moans and gasps as the pain went on and on and on and -- fuck, this wasn't right! It had been almost a year since my last full bleed, but there was no way in hell this level of pain was normal!

I leaned over the counter, rocking my hips in a fruitless bid to shake away the twisting, stabbing, squeezing pain. As I struggled to fill my lungs with air, my mind scrambled for answers. Was this what endometriosis felt like? A cyst rupturing? A fibroid? Oh my god, what if it was a tumor?!

I felt more fluid dripping in globs onto my pad, and I let out a sob. "It feels so bad!" I whimpered to my friend, tears coming to my eyes. "I just . . . just want it to stop!" My lower back suddenly felt like it was going to break, and I let out another sob as my knees began to give out under me.

Newt saw me falling and he acted quick. His arms hooked under my shoulders, and he arched his back to try and keep me standing.

"Woah, hey!" he cried as he caught me in a low crouch, just before I'd hit the ground. "What's wrong?!"

My first thought was to tell him to put me down. He shouldn't be straining himself like that, and I worried about him even through the blinding pain. I opened my mouth to scold him, but that's when it happened. I will never forget the moment it happened.

A huge weight began to sit on my lower bowels, and I swear to god I thought my guts were going to fall out. A tsunami wave of nausea rolled up from that horrible sinking pressure and hit my stomach like a geyser. I dry heaved and sank lower to the floor as my mind was overtaken by one silent demand:

Push!

"Newt-!" was all I managed to gasp.

And then I was bearing down with all my strength.

I'd never felt anything more intense in my life. It was an unholy demon pressing down on me, and I had no choice but to submit.

A scream -- a full, honest-to-god scream -- ripped itself free of my throat. I rested just long enough to inhale, and then I was pushing again, my chin pressed to my chest. I felt a shift deep inside, pressing against my lower spine. Something was prying me open. Something was slipping its way down.

I screamed again as the realization finally dawned on me: Something was coming out!

"Fawn?!" I heard his frantic voice, but my vision was haloed in black. "Fawn, talk to me!"

I held onto Newt as my lifeline, until I ran out of the strength to push anymore. "Help me!" I panted, hugging him closer. "God, please help me!"

"What is it?!"

"I'm fucking turning inside out!" I cried, growling as I pushed the object lower into my pelvis.

At first, I was convinced my colon or something was about to pop out like a fucked up horror movie; but I felt the object heading to a different area of my body. I could feel my swollen labia pushing out into my pad.

"Augh, I think it's my uterus!" I sobbed as I strained -- unable to stop myself in both regards. "That's what's falling out!"

"What the fuck?!" Newt cried. "That can happen?!"

"Yes!"

"Oh, shit!" Newt jumped up and began circling the kitchen. "Where the hell is my phone?! I'm calling 9-1-1!"

"Please fucking do!" I yelled, dropping to all fours as Newt hurried to look for his phone in the living room.

Forbidding myself to push was like forbidding myself to breathe. It simply had to happen. Tears flowed from my eyes as I was forced to push out one of my own internal organs. Not just any organ, the one that would end my dream of having a family once it was gone.

This was hell. I was in hell.

My hips tried to jerk away from the pain as the object began to force itself though my vagina. I felt the object pressing against my pad as I pushed, and I wondered if it would be enough to hold it in. Maybe if I could somehow keep it inside me, the doctors would be able to pull it back in.

The next push told me I had no other choice but it let it out. What was happening was happening fast. Too fast. Too fast! Oh, fuck! I felt my skin yawn open and pull tight, creating a hellish burn that made me scream myself hoarse.

I hiked my pants down and craned my neck to see between my legs. The first thing I saw was a long strand of pink-red mucous clinging to my bulging lips for a few seconds, before dripping down onto the pad at my knees.

I saw a hint of something beginning to breech out of me. It was fleshy and covered in blood. It was somewhat blue colored and wrinkled, and I was terrified. My inside-out uterus was coming out of me, and I couldn't bear the sight.

I shut my eyes tight and screamed through another huge push. I had a flash of the thought: "Since when was my uterus this big? Isn't it supposed to be small?" But it was gone before I could dwell on it.

Newt's footsteps ran back into the kitchen.

"Okay, I found-."

Both his voice and his footsteps came to a screeching halt as they entered the room. I heard something drop to the ground, and it sounded like the heavy-duty casing Newt kept on his cellphone.

"Holy fucking shit . . . !" Newt's voice was muffled, as if he was pressing his hand to his mouth.

"If it's really bad, don't tell me," I begged through gritted teeth, a small sob jolting my shoulders.

Newt didn't say anything, but I heard him drop to his knees in front of me. I opened my eyes and saw him spreading a hand towel from the sink over his lap.

"It's not that bad," he said, taking my arms and adjusting them so I was holding onto his shoulders. His voice was uncanny -- it was obvious he was pretending to be calm.

Newt draped the towel over his hands and my heart dropped.

"W-what are you doing?" I asked.

"Don't worry. I've got you covered," he said. "Just push."

"Newt?" I asked, turning my face towards his. My heart was starting to pound behind my eyes. "What's happening to me?"

I didn't see him smile, but his tone remained steady. "It'll be okay, Fawn. I promise."

I gripped his arms tighter as another pain started. "Oh god, I'm dying, aren't I?" I groaned. I wasn't even scared at the thought -- at this point, death felt like the only end to this pain. I'd all but accepted it.

"You're not dying, Fawn," Newt said, brushing his cheek against mine. His fledging facial hair tickled. "You're fine, you just need to push."

Sighing, I lowered my forehead to his shoulder and followed my body's demands. The stretch continued, grew worse by the second, until something round and squishy slipped out and dangled between my thighs.

God, it was finally over.

All we had to do was call an ambulance and they could take me to surgery. However this happened, there was still a chance my uterus could be saved. My dream didn't have to be - !

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, I was still pushing!

I screamed into Newt's body as my burning lips spread further over something wide for a few white-hot seconds. There was a disgusting splash that gushed over my inner thighs, followed by the softest little 'plop'.

I was empty. I felt hollow and numb. My body buzzed, but it felt dead. I was left gasping in deep breaths to steady my racing heart, staring off into nothing over Newt's shoulder. My eyes burned from sweat pouring down my brow.

"Fawn," Newt said -- his voice sounded miles away, "look."

"I don't wanna look at it," I sighed, wiping my face on my sleeve.

That's when she cried for the first time.

A warbled little mewl flew up to meet my ears.

I looked down, in the space between Newt and I . . . and I screamed.

A blue cord of flesh was hanging between my legs, coated in blood. It trailed down in a soft arch to the towel sitting on Newt's lap, where I saw the answer to every question I'd had that day.

Laying there between Newt's hands, squirming and screaming and blue, was a wrinkly newborn baby.

She was a girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Part 1 of 2

Author's Note: Thank you for reading Part 1! This is by far the longest fic I've written thus far. It's so long that I had to split it into two chapters! Part 2 will be available very soon. This story will be available on my AO3 page, just like all of my other fics! Feel free to follow me or any of my stories there under the same name.

#fawn drabbles #mittysins #borrowed ocs #fawn and newt #birth kink #labor kink #newt my beloved <3 #pre-relationship ship fic

162 notes · View notes

venriliz · 6 months ago

Text

10 random facts about me

got tagged by @druidberries @alientown @papermint-airplane TY <3

u literally tagged the most boring person but that's probably what half of all people think of themselves, huh? °-° i might regurgitate some of the facts i used for my introduction post in the sims of tumblr community. i wrote a lot so i'll put a cut with the facts below here. °-°

my birthday is the 4th of july and when i was a kid (prolly like 5 or 6) i saw an american parade on the news on tv. after i asked my dad why these people are celebrating he literally told me that they're celebrating my birthday °_° i believed for several years that americans celebrated my fucking birthday bc i wasn't aware of independence day existing lmfao. my dad just loved fooling me V.V he might be dead but i'm still holding that grudge lol.

i'm kinda lucky to be alive i guess? when i was a kid i was hit by a car in what we in germany call "Spielstraße" which is kinda like a street in dense neighborhoods where kids are allowed to play freely and cars aren't allowed to go faster than 7 kph/4.3 mph. i don't now how fast the driver was but it probably was something around 30 kph/18 mph. i didn't have very bad injuries but still °-° i could've died.

i was a typical horse girl as a kid (i still like horses but i'm not riding anymore because i'm a very old 20-something with knee problems lol) and i was fucking INSUFFERABLE abt it.

i don't want to have kids or get married. i'm not one of those people who hate children like i love my nieces and my nephew BUT i have a lot of mental health issues and can't possibly take care of another life if i can barely take care of myself properly, right? marriage to me is just a weird concept. i can totally respect people getting married and if i'm invited to a wedding i'm obviously attending but i personally can't really subscribe to the idea of binding myself to someone with a piece of paper and it then being such a stupid process when it doesn't work out. also... it costs too much money lol

i have kind of an affinity for finding missing pets (i also photograph every missing poster i see so i guess that helps with recognizing them?)

i was NOT good at school like i kinda sucked and i can probably blame a mixture of mental health issues, trouble at home and also being a lazy teenager that just wasn't really built for school life lol. i barely managed to get the "Mittlere Reife" (if you're german u know what i mean. i could explain what that means but explaining the german school system would take years). english, german and biology were my only good classes. i absolutely hated math like we're lifelong enemies.

speaking of germany, i am from germany or to be more specific from the most northern region nearest to the danish border and i LOVE living here. the north and baltic sea are close to me and people here are usually quite chill. the only thing i don't like that much abt living here is kind of the regional cuisine bc a lot of it is fish and i don't like eating fish T.T

i HATE going shopping (i'm an online shopper °-° EMP my beloved) and my friends just don't take me with them on shopping trips bc they know i'll kill the mood by complaining like a child and wanting to go back home lmfao

the first sims game for me was the og Sims and i almost fried my dad's old ass pc playing it. my first vivid memory of the game was noticing that here and there random houses appeard out of seemingly nowhere. the goths got a new house that didn't fit their vibe for example lol. years later my dad told me that he used to play the game when i was sleeping and just built these houses lmfao. so i guess my dad was an og simmer oO.

i remember 9/11 (yes i'm old enough don't age shame me T.T). i was in kindergarten at that time and just came home from a friends house when the towers fell. i saw it on tv and even though i was very young i understood that a lot of people were getting hurt. definitely had an impact on me as a kid.

yeah that's it. i rambled a lot but yeah °-°

tagging @landgraabbed @olli-online @living-undead @moonwoodhollow @microscotch @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @aniraklova @tiallussims @skaterboi108 @faerun-s @cristalviper @none-of-these-days @fadingforrest @acuar-io @elderwisp @lilamausmaus @simpleratattack @azeterna @butteredfrogs @mmonetsims and everybody else who reads this! HA!

#tag game #omg i wrote too much T.T

30 notes · View notes

hazellevessque · 5 months ago

Text

SCARLET IS DONE 🫡

So technically I finished Cinder…six months ago (🧍) when I read it for school because everyone was recommending it to me. But then we switched units and I wasn’t allowed to read a sci-fi book anymore, so I had to stop a few chapters into Scarlet. Then school ended and I didn’t have access to the books anymore, and I couldn’t get them from the library, so I had to resort to other methods (begging my parents to by me the books). They finally folded, and here we are!

I did re-read Cinder before this one because I was afraid I forgot what happened lol

That being said I think I liked the last book more than this one, but I still really liked this book so no harm done

I feel like everyone should know that my 12-year-old sister looked over my shoulder at one point, saw the world “alpha” and started singing, “SHE’S THE ALPHA, SHE’S THE LEADER, SHE’S THE ONE TO TRUST” 💀

Émilie is an icon, she needed more page time

Imagine that one day you look up and see a giant spaceship with a naked lady painted on the side of it. I know that that probably isn’t possible with the canon but. Just imagine

Wolf is…kinda just there to me tbh I don’t dislike him I just like the other characters…more?? He’s my least favorite in the gang AS OF RIGHT NOW. I don’t know if there are any Wolf stans in the crowd but please don’t come at me

Idk Scarlet gave me lesbian vibes

I really liked that the books take place in parts of the world other than America. I’m American and most media/all the popular books marketed towards us takes place here and I usually have to go out of my way to find books that don’t take place here

When Kai gave that emergency speech Cinder’s reaction KILLED ME. Oh my god. Wow

“Cinder has a bit of a crush on him” “Don’t we al?” I LOVE IKO

Also speaking of Throne I think he’s so funny. I know he’s the love interest of the next book so I’m excited to see that!

So apparently I have still not recovered from Peony’s death because every time her name got mentioned I was hit with a brick

There were multiple times where I had to get up and do a lap while reading. This book is very intense

Overall I really liked it. Most people I know say that Cress is their favorite book and Rapunzel is my favorite fairytale so I’m hyped for that!

Also I forgot everyone that was on the taglist so I’m gonna be doing this mostly from memory (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!): @writergracethepanda @winterrhayle @rosaadiazs @caliburn-the-sword @qylinscafvne

@rxsewqter @silverstarssart @typingwithmyhandstied @hijabi-desi-bookworm @livie1507

#scarlet benoit #scarlet #the lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #linh cinder #carswell thorne #wolf kesley #ze’ev kesley

30 notes · View notes

goatcheesecak3 · 4 months ago

Text

Adam's diary

Adolescent Adam stanheight x adolescent Scott tibbs (platonic)

Fic type: diary entry, angst

Warnings: domestic abuse, underage drinking

Summary: a diary entry written by adolescent Adam Stanheight, detailing the weekend he spent with his best friend, Scott Tibbs

A/n: absolutely no one asked for this but it came to me like a prophetic vision, and I live for rustynail angst

Scott just left. He stays here sometimes when his mom's boyfriend gets mad, and I stay with him when my dad drinks. Scott says I'm lucky to have a real dad, but I disagree. At least Scott only gets hit by some chump who's banging his mom, I think it's way worse when the beating comes from someone who's meant to love you. But that's whatever, because someday me and Scott are gonna be famous!! He's gonna be in a band, and I'm gonna do all their artwork and be their personal photographer. We'll be rich and we'll never speak to our families again.

Well, maybe I'll speak to mom. She's nice to me for the most part, she even hid enough money from dad to buy me this awesome camera for Christmas last year. I'm not allowed to use it when dad's around though, he can't know mom spent that much money on me. He doesn't have a clue where that money really went, he still thinks mom got robbed by one of the baseheads in our neighbourhood LOL!

I'd like to get rich enough to buy mom a house and take her away from dad, but even if I could afford it someday I don't think she'd go. She's scared of him, but she says she loves him and that she won't leave. It sucks because part of me wants to protect her, but the other part of me is really pissed that she doesn't protect me. I've gotten into fights with that asshole plenty of times, just to make sure he doesn't hurt her, but she's happy to sit back and watch him kick my ass.

Anyways, back to me and Scott. Scott stole some spray paint from his older brother, so this weekend we went and painted a mural on the old bridge downtown. You're not really allowed to get onto the bridge since it isn't used anymore, but me and Scott aren't scared of a little climbing LOL!!

I painted this cool design of a pole with skulls stuck to it, Scott says he wants to use it as an album cover for his band someday, which I think is pretty cool. After that we went to the corner store and brought some 40s to drink. The guy at the store is so old he thinks we're 21! Scott says one day we should try and walk out without paying, but I don't want to push our luck, plus, the guy seems nice, even if he isn't really all there.

There's a big football game on next weekend, so I'll probably stay at Scott's House, because dad will probably be drinking. We're gonna go back to the mural and add some finishing touches, and I'll bring my camera to get some cool shots of us in front of our masterpiece.

Life is better since I've found ways to avoid my dad. Anyways, that's all for now. I'm going to bed.

#saw #leigh whannell #saw 2004 #adam stanheight #sawposting #adam faulkner stanheight #adam saw #adam faulkner #scott tibbs #scott tibbs x reader #Scott tibbs x adam stanheight #adam stanheight x scott tibbs #rustynailshipping #angst #fic #diary

22 notes · View notes

allmoshnobrain · 8 months ago

Text

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 02 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3.3k

You didn’t want to dwell on it, on how your life was like a museum of places your family had been but weren’t anymore. Even something as simple as a spot you used to frequent as a kid was now just a distant memory. When your gaze met his, you found nothing but understanding there.

✦ warnings and tags: jason newsted x reader, age gap (23/38), no use of y/n, slow burn, grumpy/sunshine dynamics maybe?, reader has a backstory and it's kinda tragic, a bit of angst, eventual smut in future parts

✦ a/n: part 2 is finally here! i hope my portrayal of a small town is at least a bit accurate lol i know nothing about American towns, so I based it around what I usually see in fiction and also my personal life living in a small town growing up. also, jason and reader are still getting to know each other, but you can expect things to heat up a bit soon 🖤 hope you guys enjoy the read!

Jason never thought waking up in a quiet place would feel so weird.

Maybe it was to be expected. After living in LA for so long, he'd gotten used to the constant noise — cars, loud neighbors, all that chaos that comes with city life. When he opened his eyes that Sunday morning, he spent a few minutes trying to figure out what was off. Then it hit him: it was the silence.

Jason was never one to laze around in bed after waking up, so after giving himself five more minutes under the covers, he got up to brush his teeth and stretch a bit. The house was still quite a mess, with cardboard boxes all over the place, and he grunted softly, thinking about the unpacking day that awaited him.

At least he didn’t have anything else to worry about for the next few days, or weeks, or months. No dealing with packed schedules and tours, no getting his ideas shot down at the studio, no interviews, photoshoots, or autograph sessions.

Just him, his new house, and his music.

After heading downstairs and pouring himself the last bit of yesterday's coffee, Jason’s mind couldn't help but drift back to you. He wondered if you’d have followed his advice, and if you’d be hungover right now. You’d been so kind to him the day before, and he thought maybe it’d be nice to return the favor and check up on you. Plus, he needed to return your baking tray and coffee pot anyway. Which reminded him — he still had a few pieces of your brownie left.

He opened the fridge and grabbed the tray, munching on one of the brownies while he rummaged through a cardboard box for some kitchen utensils. Your brownie was soft but dense, with a strong chocolate taste and a crisp shell that was just amazing. She must be really good at cooking, he thought, a bit impressed. Even though Jason could take care of himself, cooking definitely wasn’t one of his talents.

He finally found a plate and put the remaining brownies on it before washing your stuff. Once everything was nice and clean, he quickly went back upstairs to change his clothes, then headed over to your house and rang the doorbell.

It didn’t take you long to answer. Your eyes lit up with excited surprise when you saw him, and a smile spread across your lips. You were wearing a pretty little dress, your cheeks slightly flushed and breathing a bit fast, making him wonder if you had rushed downstairs to answer the door.

“Good morning,” you smiled, and he cleared his throat, suddenly aware he’d been staring at you a bit too long.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still a bit rough from yesterday’s tiredness. “Uh... I brought back your stuff.”

“Oh, thanks,” you said, quickly taking the baking tray and coffee pot from his hands.

“So, you’re feeling okay? No hangovers?” he asked with a soft smile. You blushed a bit, probably still embarrassed about last night, but shook your head with a small smile.

“No hangovers. Took a long, warm bath and drank a lot of water, just like you said,” you giggled, and he chuckled. “Sorry about last night, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, then hesitated. He knew he should get back to unpacking, but he couldn’t help but think he should return your kindness from the day before somehow. If Jason was any good at cooking, he might have invited you over for lunch, but he knew he couldn’t cook anything that wasn’t too plain for a guest. “So, do you know of any cool restaurants around? I’d like to treat you to a meal, you know, as thanks for the brownies and the coffee. They really saved my day.”

“Did you like it?” you asked, excitement shining in your eyes as you smiled. Jason nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Oh, I’m so happy! I don’t know if there are any restaurants open today, though. Everybody’s at church or at home, but Joe’s Diner might be open if we’re lucky.”

“Well, I don’t know much about the town yet, but we can head over there for lunch if you’d like.”

“Oh, anything beats staying home all day,” you joked, and he wondered how many Sundays you'd spent alone since losing your parents. A knot twisted uncomfortably in his stomach, but he pushed it aside. He didn’t want to pity you, but he couldn’t help feeling a need to protect you, to shield you from a grief you shouldn’t be facing at such a young age.

If taking you out to lunch could help, then he was glad he'd invited you.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll get back to unpacking my stuff, but we could grab my car later and head to the diner. Pick you up at one?”

“One? You sure eat late,” you frowned, and he chuckled.

“How about half past noon?”

“That’s better,” you smiled.

“Alright. See you in a bit,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face to match your excited one.

☆

Jason showed up right on time at your door, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his short brown hair neatly combed. You had swapped your dress for jeans too, pairing them with a cute black tank top.

"Hey, we’re matching," you said when you saw him. He blinked, looking a bit confused before noticing you were both wearing pretty much the same thing.

"We really are. Want me to change or something?" he asked, a soft smile matching the warmth of his blue eyes.

“No way. You look good,” you replied, making him chuckle softly.

"Well, you look awesome too. Let's go, then, I'm starving," he said as he walked to his car, a big, black pickup truck. You raised your eyebrows, curious; the truck was brand new and clearly expensive, totally different from the battered old pickups you usually saw around town. Money clearly wasn't as tight for Jason as it was for you, which only made you more intrigued about him.

You walked over to his car and hopped into the passenger seat, feeling a bit hesitant. Being in a car still felt weird after the accident that took your parents' lives, but you didn't want to turn down Jason's kindness. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and dry mouth.

"You alright?" Jason asked, his blue eyes studying your face with a curious look. You nodded, forcing a smile to hide your discomfort.

"Just hungry."

The ride to Joe’s Diner was calm and nice. You showed Jason the way to Main Street and then to the diner, pointing out all the shops and spots you thought he might like. Jason was easy to talk to; he seemed genuinely interested in what you were showing him and in getting to know Oak Ridge better, which made you happier than you expected. You usually warmed up to people quickly, and his calm, laid-back nature was a pleasant surprise, a nice balance to your eagerness to help and please.

"There it is," you said as you both pulled up to Joe’s Diner and Jason looked for a place to park. The place was a small, old building with red brick walls. A neon sign displayed the name of the diner, but the lights were off since it was still daytime. A small "open" sign hung from the glass door, and you sighed with relief. Joe didn’t always open up on Sundays; Oak Ridge was a quiet place, even quieter on weekends, but as your stomach rumbled softly, you were just glad it was open. "It’s not much, but I swear the food is awesome."

"I can’t wait to try it," Jason smiled, and you giggled softly before hopping out of the car.

The first thing that hit you when you opened the diner’s door was the mouthwatering smell of fresh-brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. You stepped onto the black-and-white checkered floor, smiling softly as an AC/DC song played on the old jukebox by the window. The place was empty, except for Maggie, Joe’s wife, behind the counter in her pale blue dress and white apron. She smiled when she saw you, her eyes flickering with curiosity when she noticed your company. Her graying hair shone like silver in the warm sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Go grab a table; I’m just gonna say hi to Maggie,” you told Jason, and he nodded, picking a spot to sit. You sauntered over to the counter, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Hey, Maggie. Where’s Joe?”

“Oh, hello, dear. Joe’s in the kitchen,” she said, smiling as she grabbed a mug and poured you some coffee. You wrapped your hands around the mug, savoring the warmth. “Who’s that handsome stranger over there? Family?”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Newsted. He bought the house right next to mine — the one that used to be Mr. Parson’s,” you explained. “I’m just showing him around town.”

“You’re such a good girl,” she said warmly, glancing over your shoulder at Jason before leaning in and whispering, “If he does anything weird, you tell me or Mrs. Fischer, alright?”

“Thanks, Maggie, but he seems nice,” you chuckled.

“I know he does, but you’re a young girl living all by yourself… We look out for each other around here, so if you need anything, just let me know,” she said.

"Well, I think I'm gonna need a cup of your wonderful coffee for Mr. Newsted over there," you grinned. "And you know I'm gonna want that delicious meatloaf with fries on the side again, right?"

"Sure thing, honey. Just go sit down with your friend, and I'll bring it over in a jiffy. Oh, and..." Maggie hesitated, and you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I know you might not want to hear this, but... Ethan's been asking around about you. Said he wants to see you if you ever showed up. I'm sorry, babe. I know you don't want to hear about him, but I figured you should know," she finished, apologetically.

"It's alright, Maggie. Thanks for letting me know. But I'm not... I really don't want to see him right now," you said, trying to muster a smile despite the annoyance creeping into your mood at Maggie's words — not at her, but at Ethan, your ex-boyfriend. You were getting tired of his persistent attempts to contact you, even though you'd made it clear you were done with him. "Sorry he bothered you with this."

"Oh, honey, it's not your fault. He really messed things up with you," Maggie replied as she refilled your mug with fresh coffee and poured another cup for Jason. "Don't stress about it, alright? Just enjoy your lunch. I'm sure things will work out."

You gave Maggie a soft smile, taking both coffee mugs and making your way to the table Jason had picked out. It was right by the window, sunlight streaming in through the red curtains and casting gentle patterns on the wooden tabletop.

"Hey. Brought coffee," you grinned, sliding into the seat opposite Jason, who was deep in concentration studying the menu. He looked up, returning your smile and reaching for the coffee mug.

"Thanks, dear," he said appreciatively, and you felt a slight blush creep onto your cheeks at the casual way he used the nickname. He offered you the menu. "You wanna pick?"

"Oh, I already know what I'm getting. How about you?" you asked.

"I think I'm gonna go for the cheeseburger with fries on the side," he replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "And how about dessert later? I noticed they've got apple pie. We could split a slice."

"Sounds good," you smiled.

Before long, Maggie swung by your table to take your orders. You properly introduced her to Jason, and as they chatted, it became clear that being a people person was definitely part of his personality. While Maggie seemed a bit wary at first — typical Oak Ridge resident behavior around newcomers — soon enough, she was chatting and laughing with Jason as if they were old pals.

"So," you began as we waited for your lunch to arrive, "what are your plans for the week? You gonna hunt for a job or anything?"

"Oh, no, thank God," Jason smiled, shaking his head softly, and you giggled. "I'm just gonna start composing some new music, I reckon. Wanna give solo work a shot this time."

"This time?" you asked, intrigued. "You mentioned you were in a band, right? What was that like?"

"Messy," he replied, with a slight frown. You blinked, trying to decipher the expression on his face. He looked troubled, but you knew it wasn't directed at you, which made you wonder what could have driven him to leave his old band. "That's why I needed to be somewhere quieter, I suppose."

"Was it really that rough?" you asked in a hushed tone. He met your gaze, taking in your concerned expression and offering you a reassuring smile.

"It wasn't all bad. For one, it lined my pockets enough to do whatever I pleased after I left," he chuckled. "But... We had our share of issues. Eventually, it all became too much, so I had to step back."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you whispered, and he chuckled with a smile.

"Don't sweat it. I'm happier now that I'm out of that mess. Plus, I got to meet the coolest neighbor ever," he joked, and you laughed softly. "I just... I wanna start fresh, you know? Glad I could give myself the chance."

Your conversation was briefly interrupted as Maggie brought your food — cheeseburger and fries for Jason and your beloved meatloaf with some Coke for drinks. You chatted quietly as you dug into our meal, saving room for Maggie's apple pie, which you devoured soon after. Jason insisted on paying for the whole meal, and after a bit of back-and-forth and him reminding you it was his idea to treat you in the first place, you agreed.

As you headed back to his car, an idea popped into your head — there was somewhere you hadn’t shown Jason yet.

“Hey, can we take a little detour before heading home?” you asked as you settled back in the passenger seat. “There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

“Sure, let’s go,” Jason replied, and you smiled. You were starting to like how easygoing and open to your suggestions he was.

As you drove through Main Street, you pointed to a small street right next to the police station.

“Take this street over here,” you said, and Jason turned the car wheels. The few commercial buildings quickly gave way to houses, and then, as always happens if you follow a path in Oak Ridge long enough, the street turned into a dirt road surrounded by trees. Houses became more spread out, and soon you reached a fork in the road. One way led down to some farms and properties, the other up a small hill through a denser part of the woods. “We’re almost there, just go up this path,” you directed.

“Alright. You’re not gonna tell me where we’re going?” Jason asked with a small smile, his blue eyes glued to the road ahead. You giggled.

“You’ll see.”

You drove up the hill for a while on a narrow, twisty path that might’ve been tricky for an inexperienced driver, but Jason handled it just fine. Finally, after a few minutes of climbing, you reached the top, a little spot with a couple of pine trees and a wooden bench in the middle. Jason parked the car, and you hopped out.

“Come on,” you said with a smile, running up to the bench under the trees. Jason followed, grumbling about having to climb the rest of the way on foot. You laughed as a soft breeze messed up your hair. “Come on, old man, you can do it.”

“I’m trying. Sorry I don’t have your energy, kid,” he muttered with a mock-annoyed look. “I’m not used to the outdoors anymore.”

“I’m not a kid,” you huffed, and he laughed, a bit out of breath.

“And I’m not an old man,” he shot back.

“Well, you sure are looking like one. Don’t people in LA ever go for a walk?” you teased, and he laughed huskily. You grabbed his wrist. “Come see this.”

You both walked over to the wooden bench, and you turned to Jason, putting your hands on his shoulders before using him to help you climb up on the bench, standing on it.

“Careful,” Jason said, tensing up as he held your waist firmly, his rough palm brushing against the skin between your tank top and jeans. You chuckled, feeling warmth spread through you as your heart raced, his touch sparking a fire in your belly that you didn’t know could exist.

“I’m good,” you assured him, offering your hand to help him climb up onto the bench beside you. “Let’s go.”

“Do I really have to?” he joked, but he took your hand and pulled himself up with your help to stand on the bench next to you.

“Check it out,” you said, pointing downhill where the whole town sprawled out before you. From up here, you could pretty much see everything in the more urban part of Oak Ridge, which wasn’t all that big. Jason made a low impressed noise. “See over there? That’s Joe’s Diner,” you gestured to the red brick building that seemed tiny from this height. “And that’s the police station… And down there, in that tree-lined path, we can’t spot the houses from here, but that’s our street.”

“That’s awesome,” he murmured, his voice low as he took in all the sights you’d pointed out. “How’d you find this spot?”

“Just some hometown know-how,” you quipped, and he chuckled, his blue eyes meeting yours warmly. “Actually… My parents used to bring me here all the time. But I haven’t been in ages. It’s kinda tough to get here without wheels.”

“If you ever wanna come back here, just give me a holler. I’ll bring you,” he said gently, his voice tinged with a kindness that made you blush a bit.

“Thanks, Mr. Newsted.”

“You can call me Jason, remember?”

“Thanks, Jason,” you chuckled. He grinned before returning his gaze to the view ahead of you.

“So, got any other hidden gems to show me?” he gestured toward a bunch of trees near the white building you knew was the town church. “Is that a pool?” he asked, and you stretched up on your tiptoes for a closer look, spotting a square of water nestled among the trees.

“Yeah, that’s the Recreation Club. It’s pretty cool. My folks used to take me there all the time, but…” your voice trailed off as you spoke. You didn’t want to dwell on it, on how your life was like a museum of places your family had been but weren’t anymore. Even something as simple as a spot you used to frequent as a kid was now just a distant memory. “Couldn’t keep up with the membership fees after they passed,” you explained, glancing up at Jason with eyes that tried to hide your sadness. When your gaze met his, you found nothing but understanding there.

“C'mere,” he said, pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you.

The sudden embrace caught you off guard, but soon you relaxed into it like it was second nature. He was warm and unexpectedly gentle, and you realized maybe that’s what you’d been craving all this time: warmth, and gentleness. He pulled back, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s head back home.”

#ada writes fanfiction #valley of roses fanfic #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica x you #jason newsted #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted x you #jason newsted smut

27 notes · View notes