#very angsty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elliewilliamsblunt · 18 days

Text

(¯`·¸.-~*´¨¯`*·~-. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕔𝕖 .-~*´¨¯`*·~-.¸·´¯)

Notes!: Hii!! This will be my first full series!! This chapter is pretty slow, it goes more into detail on the reader and her back story. I wanted to start a base for how the reader's plot will be about her feelings toward growing into her sexuality!:) Again this is BACKSTORY, Ellie and the rest of the characters are next chapter. There are a few OCs I wrote but they are just family and old friends they aren't major characters.

Summary: After a harrowing confrontation with her family, she finds herself fleeing from home, seeking refuge on the doorstep of a distant aunt's house. Desperate for a fresh start and eager to break free from the shackles of her past trauma, she dreams of embracing the freedom and joy that adulthood promises. Determined to carve out her own path, she sets her sights on attending a local college, yearning for the chance to rebuild her life on her own terms.

TW: self-image issues, identity struggle, trauma, ptsd, religious trauma, homophobia, internal homophobia.

(if you don't want to read the backstory just wait for the next chapter)

Past tense= italics

Present= Regular

↞chapter one↠

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧• 𓆩⚝𓆪 •⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Quiet murmuring gently purred in the back of your head. While cheek tingled numbly against the cold glass, and your arms lazily hugged your heavy duffle bag. Until an abrupt yet subtle jolt alerted your eyes to flutter sluggishly open. The long ride to Wyoming had finally ended, along with a peaceful end to the hell you went through. Your weary gaze swept over the quaint station, dusted with a rare powder unfamiliar to the Arizona landscape. Dormant trees stood sentinel, while locals huddled together like snug penguins. The site was gorgeous, comforting even. But you couldn't help but hold yourself a bit tighter in novelty. Despite the harsh factors that led you into a new state…you crumbled back to being a homesick child.

“You gettin’ off?” the elderly driver interjected, causing you to jerk your head away from the window, only to realize the bus was now empty, his puzzled gaze fixated on your attire, It was embarrassingly obvious you weren't a local…” Y-yeah! Sorry…” you stammered, hastily swinging your duffle bag over your shoulders and briskly shuffling off the bus.

The biting cold seemed to sting your skin like venom, eliciting a scowl and banishing your fatigue. Yet, given the abruptness of your departure from Arizona, there wasn't much opportunity to select the most suitable attire for these foreign conditions since you ran. So, you swallow back your frustrations like a cold pill shoving your hands in your hoodie pockets. Venturing through the busy station, hoping to start your new life freely.

༺♰༻

You'd never once seen your aunt, besides in the backgrounds of your baby photos. Aubrey was mostly a hushed name back at home—a figure who seemed to have disgraced the family name, severed ties with the church, and retreated to the solitude of the mountains. As a little girl you didn't quite get it, more so blindly following your parent's morals and bubbling a grudge against the distant kin. It wasn't really till your older cousins sneered and gossiped about her forbidden sins boredly awaiting Christmas morning.

“You know why Auntie isn't here?” Brianna hummed boredly to her older brother lounging lazily on his phone. “Cause she's a fuckin dyke?” He’d snort making you gasp over his vulgarity, and a small pout to settle on your lips. “I'm gonna tell your momma you're cussing..” You warned being the whiney girl you were, causing the older twins to scoff. ”yeah Dustin tone it down for the baby..” Brianna cooed mockingly, triggering your cheeks to flush in humiliation and annoyance. Dustin chuckled carelessly with a shrug. “Tone it down? It’s true, she's a total freak! That homo ran off with some girl. Abandoning the people who really cared for her.”

“You guys are such liars!” You exclaimed in annoyance trying to mask the tight feeling in your gut. ”Sure! We’d just make something like that up” Brianna interjected rolling her eyes. “You’re such a little brat, maybe you’re just like her too that’s why you’re callin’ us, liars!”

“I-I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!!” You’d cry once more trembling slightly in anxiety.

“Are too!!” Brianna taunted back louder than before only for your bedroom door to be slammed open by their furious mother now awoken from slumber.

You vividly recall the fear that gripped you that night, promising yourself never to resemble that woman. Now, you stand, perhaps finally at the correct house, your entire life condensed into a duffle bag and a hopeful “prayer.” Like god could spare you any mercy now…Releasing a trembling sigh, you ascend the weathered steps of the Victorian residence, awkwardly lingering outside, feeling abandoned and cold.

The creak of the door opening was like a thunderclap in your chest, causing your heart to race and your palms to dampen even in the cold. What if she, too, turns you away? I'm sure she doesn’t want to care for someone kid! What if she insists on sending you back to your parents? What if... What if... What if...?

Your mind quieted as the woman's unfamiliar voice called your name, gentle yet tinged with confusion. Her soft, alarmed gaze pierced through you, triggering an immediate welling of tears. Trembling chin, pouted lips, eyes already puffy from your last breakdown. You couldn’t bear to even muster up a reason for being on her porch. You whimpered ducking your face into your palms sobbing softly until you felt her arms envelop you, in a comforting warmth.

༺♰༻

You had never been one for trouble, You were known for your impeccable character, attending church faithfully every Sunday and participating in Bible study. Your academic achievements were outstanding, consistently ranking at the top of your class. Beyond your academic pursuits, you dedicated yourself to cheerleading and even volunteered to support the homeless community. With a coveted acceptance to college, your future seemed destined for success and a much-needed break from the small town you called home.

You were a “good girl” under the terms of your teachers and your parents whom you cherished even after your clash. But even so, you weren't really….happy in a sense. You had gotten everything you wanted, god had given you a clear path to achievement. But there was no.….happiness. Guys your age found you quite boring, though you really showed no interest or care for them anyway. While girls couldn't seem to have fun with you, drinking? No. Skimpy fashion? No. Boys? No. Sex? Definitely not.

There were never really many characters to choose from, Arizona was more desert than home. Young people were practically running to get away from their faith and the old morals held in town. But you had always been the little girl who kept to her roots. Treading carefully away from danger and temptation. Even if it was boring…maybe even horrific to worry about even the slightest sin to send you hurling towards damnation. You remained pure and true to Christ. Just a lonely girl and her Bible well…until….

Hannah…

Hannah Whitlock

Lead cheerleader, blonde, freckled-faced, and cherished by everyone in school. Her dad was a lawyer, her mom was a home wife and they lived in the most perfectly white house on the edge of town. Accompanied by a pure golden retriever, a big green yard, and rose bushes lining their fence. She was the epitome of perfection, someone every girl wanted to be and every boy wanted to be with.….though you had trouble deciding which side you fell into long before you two had spoken. But despite that, she seemed like the answer to your loneliness, a miracle from god gracing your presence. Yet, you later realized she was more of a temptation from Satan than a divine gift.

It began when the family relocated to the quaint town, embodying the quintessential "American Family." Hannah's mother, fervently religious, compelled her husband and daughter to immerse themselves in the church community. She immediately caught your gaze being a girl around your age attending rather than the young babies, or the well-practiced elderly. Hence starting your spiral into temptation. Every Wednesday after school you'd attend Bible study where the lovely girl would already be dragging in newcomers with her charm. Her smile even eased you into speaking up in the group as the days went on, along with finally earning a friend.

Brief studies grew to become chatting at on campus, partners in projects, and small sleepovers at her lavish home. She had taken your breath away, someone who had shared your faith, your humor, even your music! You were so drawn to the blonde so blissfully happy you didn't care to spare a thought of your “unnatural” desires. Hannah made your heart pump, and your lips tug into painful smiles. For once in your life….you felt…alive. Everything was well, your families got along great, and your parents loved Hannah and you. Though there was a sliver of turmoil in you, and it was clearly evident you didn't want to be her…But be with her…The way your chest would tighten over her small boy toy obsessions. Or when she'd gawk over karate kid….The girl caught on of course…she wasn't an idiot…but more so amused.

However, one particular afternoon would etch itself into the fabric of your existence. It was the onset of winter break, and just like any other Friday, you'd follow the beauty home for a sleepover. Happily awaiting the plan set the next day when she'd let you accompany a trip to Alaska set by her affluent father. Through your anticipation had left the afternoon quiet, and dull. Hannah had suggested you two “prepared” to meet “hot” ski guys ranting on and on about a boy she had met the year before, stirring yet another fresh wave of frustration within you.

Your head snapped when her sweet voice called your name once more. Drawing you to take your attention off the nail polish you were messily smearing on your toes. “Hm?” you'd hum agitatedly causing her to giggle. “What's up?…” she whispered with a soft smile tugged on her glossy lips making you shift in embarrassment. Quiet and ashamed, you offered a shrug accompanied by a stiff smile. “Nothing…”

“Ugh….don’t be like that..” she whined as she tossed away a magazine scooting closer in bed for your attention. “Come on…you’ve been acting so weird since I started talking about Nathan..” She mumbled as she took the nail polish from your hand quickly taking over. “Weird…?” You snort in a tense tone watching her brush glittery nail polish neatly. “I can feel your annoyance from miles away babe.” She remarked with a soft laugh. Her smile effortlessly infecting your lips to curl up. "I don't know... I'm just not... I mean, I'm not into... guy talk?" you stumble over your words, cringing inwardly. "Guy talk?!" she huffs, laughter bubbling up even more. "Y-yeah... I just... I don't know... I mean, how can you be into those jerks at school..." you mumble in disgust, causing Hannah to give you a confused glance."Oh, come on, you don't think any of the guys are hot?" she teases, while you scrunch your nose in refusal, shaking your head. "Not even Warren?" she presses, as you firmly shake your head once more.

Hannah sighs with a soft giggle. “You’re weird…I swear if you weren’t a Christian I’d think you’re a total dyke…” That word….You felt ten years old again…sobbing to god you wouldn’t become so imbedded with sin….” as if…” you remarked with a weak smile. But part of you knew you weren’t like all the other girls, you weren’t boy crazy, nor did you even fathom the thought of simply holding a guy's hand. You were different, selfish even. You talked down about the boys she awes over…even going so far as to privately shred confessions slid in her locker deaming “It was for better.” Yet, you flaunt your smiles practically awestruck over the blonde when you were supposed to be praying to the man whom you “worshipped.” Too blind to see you were entertaining this fantasy of being satisfied as just a friend.

Let’s face it…you were a fucking hypocrite.

You dedicated countless hours to praying, determined not to succumb to temptation while harboring resentment towards those who seemed happy while you felt miserable. But, here you are, nestled in your crush's bed, her soft smile and infectious laughter filling the room. You were in deep... she had you right on the fucking spot. The girl was cunning, adept at charming others and effortlessly getting whatever she wanted with just the bat of an eye.

Hannah smirked, her touch gentle as she finished painting your toes, closing the nail polish with a flick of her wrist. The glint in her eye was mesmerizing, leaving you shamelessly weak, you hated her for that…even to this day. "I don't know... you seem to only hang around me," she hummed, purring your name, before settling back against her pink comforter, beckoning you to follow suit. Shyly joining her, your eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling, avoiding her captivating gaze. "Am I just that pretty...?" she added softly,

You tilted your head a little to look at her once more….feeling her warm breath on your cheek, your nose so close it could kiss hers. Causing you to shamefully fleet to your worried instincts, toying with the cross necklace resting over your breast. “No….just…sweet..” you hushed back with a gentle smile. “Do you have a crush on me…” she countered abruptly in a playful sense but it was more than enough to make your heart stop its flutter and slowly sink into your stomach.

"Please..." you groaned dramatically in response. "I meannn..."She hummed tauntingly, turning to lay on her side facing you, and you couldn't tear your gaze away. Hannah was... perfect... even when you were too scared to admit it. There was something about that moment that felt so serene, so beautiful, locked away in her room alone. It was as if God had granted you a brief moment of privacy with your true thoughts. You shifted to match her position, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her presence. Her laugh…her smile…the way her pretty nose would scrunch…or the way her hair smelled so disgustingly sweet…she was a magnet for desire.

"The way you talk to me... it's like no one else matters," the blonde whispered teasingly. But at that moment, your mind hadn't even processed the idea of amusement. You felt weightless, you felt... honest for once in your life. "Because no one else does... no one else is as amazing as you, Han," you confessed. The blonde girl's smile faltered slowly, confusion flickering in her azure eyes as they scanned your face. In your own confusion, you mistakenly interpreted her disgust as interest, sinking yourself deeper into oblivion. And then, without thinking, your lips met hers.

She was soft... her lips were sweet like strawberry chapstick, and her blonde locks cascaded silkily between your knuckles. And you instantly felt hungry…so deprived of something so gentle and sweet as a small kiss….you could finally understand why boys had been aching for girls…There was nothing…that could ever match such a heavenly feeling…

Your mind was clouded with affection…so eager to finally kiss the girl you've been aching for.

Leading you to miss how little of a reaction you were getting.

A͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽f͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽p͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽.

The rest became a hazy blur, a memory you desperately wished to erase. The soft gasp that escaped her mother's lips, the sensation of Hannah's hands forcefully pushing you away...Your gaze shifted to her, once gentle eyes now filled with tears, her hand covering her lips in utter disgust... Your heart plummeted as if a heavy weight had lodged itself in your chest, suffocating you, making it impossible to draw breath.

What the fuck did you do?…

You bolted from her bed, your breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps, your ears muffled to the barrage of insults and slurs spewing from the girl's mother. Snatching your phone and hoodie, you shoved past the older woman, paying no heed to your packed bags. All you could think about was getting the fuck out of there.

You don’t remember ever crying so much….the way your head throbbed, eyes raw and glossy, nose so congested, each sniffle and huff echoing like uncontrollable hiccups. Walking through the quiet, fading streets of the town, you wished incessantly that you hadn't kissed her, hadn't committed that sin, hadn't ruined something so good to make you forget how grey your life looked.

That dying afternoon before you trudged homeward, you found yourself seated in the weathered church where your paths had first crossed. The scent of aged books lingered in the air, the lacquer on the pews chipped and worn, the church bathed in a somber yellow glow that only intensified with the onset of night. Your gaze fixated on the cross before you, its presence a haunting reminder of your transgressions.

You considered…wrestling with the idea of harboring resentment towards your faith…If God merely represented a distant promise of paradise after enduring a lifetime of suffering, was dedicating yourself worth it? Was it worth adhering to the moral teachings of a book your family had solemnly embraced? Yet, you refused to entertain such thoughts, staunchly forbidding them, even at the potential expense of your own elation.

With a softly whispered plea to the deity, you begged for forgiveness…cleanliness..and a promise of your devotion and focus. You got up and left the house of worship walking home with a small sliver of something better…

There was a brief respite between your sobs until a new menace emerged. You stood quietly beneath a dim, yellow light, your gaze fixed on your mother, seated upon your weathered veranda. Her expression was somber, devoid of discernible emotion—a blank stare. Yet, it was enough to render your legs as heavy as lead, dragging them slowly, step by step, until you halted just shy of the first stair of your porch.

Your mother, keenly aware of your tendency to evade her anger, rose deliberately from her chair—or so you surmised from the creaking floorboards. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to meet her gaze. "Look at me," she demanded sternly, her voice cutting through the air.…to which you ignored watching tears already beginning to roll warmly down your chin vanishing Into the grass. “LOOK AT ME!” She yelled causing you to jerk and slowly lift your chin before you were met with a harsh smack across your cheek.

So violent, that a small whimper escaped your throat, leaving behind the metallic tang of blood on your gums. Your body quivered, fingertips rushing to soothe your split lip. Only for your wrist to be tugged back harshly by your mother. “Why did I get a call about you coming onto Hannah?!” she bellowed. Coming onto?…”w-what?!” you hiccuped in return. “Don’t play dumb with me! I heard from Mrs Witlock you forced yourself on her daughter!”

No…no Hannah would never say that…

"NO! I-I didn't do it!" You cried out in defense, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Her mom is lying!" Your mother's face contorted with a mix of disgust and anger as she delivered another stinging slap to your cheek. Sobbing uncontrollably, you felt her grip tighten on your hair, forcing you to meet her gaze. "Blaming others for your sins? You should thank your lucky stars your father isn't home to see this!" With a forceful tug, she dragged you back into the house, pushing you roughly inside, causing you to stumble and crash onto the wooden floor. “And don't you dare think for a god damn minute I'm gonna raise a fagget in my home! First thing tomorrow you're gonna get your shit together and head to a camp! you best pray you get your act together or you ain't coming home!” She hissed her chest ragged falling and rising angrily. “Do you understand?!”

You whimpered, stifling back sobs, utterly unable to find words to respond, which only seemed to stoke her anger further. She knelt, gripping your cheeks tightly. "Do you understand?!" she yelled once more. "Y-yes!!!" you screamed. Finally releasing her grip, she scoffed softly. "Get upstairs and pack…before you end up like your fucking aunt."

Relieved to be away from her wrath, you bolted clumsily upstairs. With hiccuping breaths, a busted lip, and puffy eyes, you retreated to your room, slamming the door shut behind you. Your mind raced a mile a minute, grappling with the events of the evening. How could Hannah say such things? How could your mother...even...No...

No…

You're done….

You're done living like this…

This town, Hannah, your damn parents, the church—screw it all! You're fed up with living the life they've prescribed for you. As you pack your duffle bag with essentials—shoes, soap, a measly seventy bucks—you retrieve the solitary photo hidden beneath your cluttered bed. —the one thing you have of your aunt, sent to you privately on your tenth birthday…along with a small note.….a pretty glittery card sent far later than your birthday…

“𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓉! 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒! 𝒰𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎…𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓂 𝐼 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓊𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉…𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒…𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉….”

-𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓊𝓃𝓉

That moment crystallized in memory—the sparse words from your aunt, the postal photo capturing Jackson's snowy vistas, and her address. It became your lifeline, your sanctuary, the sole refuge amid familial discord. Perhaps it seemed impulsive, thoughtless, considering her estrangement from the family. Yet, you felt compelled, with no alternative. Tucking the card into your bag, you surveyed the dim hallways, noted your parents' silence, and descended the creaking stairs, bidding farewell to the familiar confines of home as you stepped into the enveloping darkness of the night.

The journey to the bus station was eerily silent, filled with a dreadful sense of foreboding. You were barely 19…you were running from the church…your family…college. Anxiety clenched your stomach as you purchased a ticket to Wyoming, boarding the dimly lit bus amidst weary locals. Doubts crept in—Was this really right?…what if things get worse...? No, you couldn't entertain such thoughts. With a heavy sigh, you brushed your sore lip, then rested your head against the window, succumbing to the rhythmic vibrations of the moving bus. Venturing out the south…and into the west.

༺♰༻

Aubrey—the woman vilified as horrible, selfish, and sinful—revealed herself to be among the kindest souls you'd ever met.….She even proved herself to be more motherly than her sister…. While her sister bore and raised you, it was Aubrey who cradled you through that tear-filled afternoon, offering solace without demanding explanations for your sudden departure. She tended to your wounds with care, nourished you, and refrained from prying into your painful past, instead embracing you in the sanctuary of the new home she willingly extended to you.

In the brief hours you spent with her, she effortlessly instilled a sense of calm, guiding you through the unfamiliarity of her home. She graciously introduced you to an unused room, assisted in organizing your belongings, and even insisted on joining you for dinner downstairs. Though her gestures were undeniably heartwarming, your paranoia about this newfound sweetness overshadowed any potential smile. Such warmth and wholesomeness felt alien, you were used to silent dinners after starter prayers, you were used to coming home to parents who lacked tenderness…you were used to bland. Yet, here you are sitting in your aunt's colorful Victorian abode. Enjoying the nurturing, the simple yet comforting conversations. But the sudden shift unsettled you—there lingered a nagging fear that if you grew too accustomed to this newfound warmth, it might vanish as swiftly as it appeared.

With that thought, the door opened, and in came another older woman down the hall peering into the kitchen confused. Tall, dirty blonde, simple jeans along with a neat blouse and cardigan…she seemed intimidatingly sophisticated. "Rachel?" Aubrey's voice rang out, beckoning the blonde to enter. "Aubrey...hey...um..." Rachel hesitated, crossing the room to stand beside her wife, her gaze flickering uncertainly towards you. "Who... is this?" Aubrey swiftly introduced you, moving to stand protectively behind you. "She's my niece... she... needs a place to stay..." Aubrey's voice softened, her hopeful smile unwavering as her fingers gently kneaded your shoulders. "I offered her the guest room... just until things... get a little easier for her."

In contrast to her wife, Rachel exuded a pragmatic aura, fully aware of the recklessness inherent in taking in someone else's child, especially a runaway. Shame flushed your cheeks as you glanced down at your plate. "Um...baby, how about we... chat in the hall for a second..." Rachel's voice carried a hint of timidity as she addressed her wife, prompting Aubrey to nod in agreement before giving you a final reassuring squeeze and exiting the kitchen, leaving you alone with your worries.

What are you thinking??? You can't just throw yourself in these women's lives?! You need to go home! Are you stupid?!—your mind spiraled while you tried to get a listen on what the two were debating.

“Aubrey…we..we can't…we shouldn’t plus what if your sister..finds out or…the cops get involved I-”

“So what we send her back to my sister? do you see her face? I know how my family is they’ll just fucking beat her and send her off to some psycho cult preaching about faith!” Aubrey hushed sternly in return making her wife immediately quiet and guilty.

“Look…I…I promise I’ll talk to my sister if…that’s what it takes..but I can’t send her back…I know..what it’s like to be in her shoes and…I had to deal with it alone..” Your aunt hushed. You peaked into the hall curiously seeing Rachel frown cupping her wife’s cheeks. And with a short nod and a sad smile she whispered. “Okay…” Quickly, you snapped your head back to your food continuing to eat before they noticed your ease dropping.

“Sorry, for my introduction I’m Rachel..” the blonde announced as she reentered the kitchen, taking her seat across from you at the table. You offered a quiet nod in response, prompting a slight frown to crease her lips. “It’s just…worrying to see a kid…in here…wait…how old are you?...” she questioned gently. "Nineteen," you whispered, to which she sighed in relief. "Well... then I suppose we don't have much of a problem," she attempted a joke, though it fell somewhat flat. Aubrey offered a weak smile, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You've had a long day... you should head up... and...you can stay as long as you need."

Your heart swelled with gratitude, igniting a flicker of hope within you. "Thank you... really, I... I..." your words stumbled softly before your aunt enveloped you in a tight hug, silencing your hesitant expression of gratitude. Meanwhile, her wife offered a small smile as she collected your empty plate to clean. "Don’t worry about thankin’ us okay?" Aubrey whispered as she pulled away, and you nodded in agreement once more, overcome with emotion. With a final exchange, you parted ways, heading towards the guest room to settle in.

With a soft sigh, you gently closed the door behind you, casting a fleeting glance around the dimly lit room. After slipping into a simple t-shirt and panties, you settled into the crisp, inviting bed. Weary from the day's events, your gaze drifted up to the ceiling, your belly content and your body longing for rest. Yet, despite the comfort, your heart still yearned for the warmth of the southern sun, the feeling of your skin kissed by its rays, and the presence of Hannah by your side on the steps of the church…..You let your hand drift to the cross between your breasts before allowing yourself to drift off….praying for a better day..

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧• 𓆩⚝𓆪 •⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

More notes!: hey guys!!! Sorry this is so late and a little dry😭 I really hoped you like this starter though! I’m already working on chapter two which will pick up on reader meeting the characters :)))

Taglist!: @bready101 @vqxen @a-little-bit-of-everybody @shiimer

#Spotify #tlou #tlou2 #ellie x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #slow burn #angst #angst with a happy ending #abby tlou #wlw yearning #wlw concepts #fanfic #very angsty #ellie smut #wlw #ellie tlou #lesbians #idk gang

52 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 18 days

Note

3, 7, 14, 20, 29 Numbers for the Drabble! Can I get really angsty here with like Eddie being depressed and almost dying and Steve saving him?!

Okay, I don't know if I went the route you were thinking, but I tried. Also, I definitely think I went a different way with the 'saving' thing, but here we go. This also got way longer than a drabble.

3: "Please, don’t leave.”, 7: "I almost lost you.", 14: "Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”, 20: "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”, and 29: "I thought you were dead.”

CW: Implied/Referenced Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Eddie's Sacrifice Being Referred to as a Suicide Attempt

Established Steddie, Pre-Season Four Relationship

——— A voice low and raspy floats through his head. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” it says. There’s a pressure to Eddie’s hand. The firm squeeze of somebody else. Somebody who doesn’t remind him of his uncle. He can’t pinpoint who it is exactly, but it’s somebody familiar. A person who knows him, most likely. A person who’s willing to talk to him in the in-between of somewhere and nowhere.

Though, it’s not the first time he comes to hear this phrase. Uttered to him day in and day out. A constant reminder that he’s not gone, but he’s not there. Not with this person. This somebody that seems to care about him. And he should know, because their voice is familiar. Strong and urgent and pleading and soft, all at once. It’s the burn of a mid-winter fire in his backyard, tossing butt-ends of cigarettes into its mix, drinking spiked eggnog until he can’t sense the numbness of his cheeks and is lost in the glorious laughter between him and his uncle. It’s the push come to shove.

The shove that he needs to wake up. And wake up he does. Startled and groggy, too. Choking in the back of his throat. Jump the wire with hands out in front of him, clawing at his mouth, at the contraption stuffed down his throat. Then, in a blur of motion and noise and light, it’s gone.

He can breathe. He can blink. He can smack his dry lips and suck down on the plastic straw offered out to him. Offered to him by a shaky hand that doesn’t have the same rugged, aged quality to them that his uncle’s do. He can see, so he looks. Up the person’s arm and to this stranger’s face.

Yet, he’s not a stranger. No, not at all. It’s Steve.

Steve Harrington, the guy he’d been kissing back at his trailer nearly every night before the bullshit came to bulldoze him. The guy he’d held on the couch when he had concussions number one and two. The guy that makes him cry.

The cup and straw is set aside hastily. Outstretched hand to his uninjured cheek. And a thumb, steady and warm wiping at his tears. “I gotcha, baby,” Steve murmurs. Leans tight and close, pressed warm against Eddie’s side. And kisses at his overheating skin, at the tear tracks, and his hiccuping chest. “I gotcha,” he coos again. “I almost lost you, but I have you. I have you.”

Days move like that. Nearly like that. Eddie wakes up sobbing and choking, too warm and agitated. And Steve holds his face, kisses his cheeks, and brushes back his hair.

It works until it doesn’t.

When he’s discharged, he moves into a drab apartment. Too far from his childhood home. Away from a room that was brimming with him and his love for all the people and all the things he’s ever known. He’s lost everything. Lost tattoos, patches of smooth skin, books with margin notes, tapes and records, poster and banners, clothes and old stuffed animals. It’s all gone from him. Anything he’s saved from his and Steve’s time together, that’s all away from him, too.

Even as he unpacks the boxes of things that replace that of which he’s lost, it doesn’t soothe him. Nothing does. He had expected to never see the daylight again. To have left everything behind, with Wayne and Steve and the other people he’s come to know. That he wouldn’t have to see it again, but even if he had to, it would still be there. But nothing is. Then, he doesn’t graduate. Doesn’t even want to try again; just tells everybody, “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll get my GED or something, y’know? Maybe just go to trade school.”

Though, he knows that’s a lie, too.

Because he’s ten times worse off than he was before. Nothing to stick to his name. A distance that stretches between him and everything he’s ever had. It’s noticeable in the way he’s prone to lash out more. Prone to laying in bed, tight under his blanket, not doing anything. How quiet and how unnerving he’s become. Staring off at nothing, caught in flashbacks and blinking lights, holding to himself tightly as if he can will the normal to creep back into his body. He figured if he had died, sure there would be a bad taste to his name, but at least he wouldn’t have to keep making up for things he didn’t do. He wouldn’t have to justify who he is. Or find a way to hide in broad sunlight.

Everything he’s ever known is twisted backwards and shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine. He tries to do the things he loved, but all that it reminds him of is playing a demented concert, creatures come to life, bites and scars and blood and screaming. And death. Sometimes, he wonders why he didn’t just die down there. How he survived.

So, he asks. He asks because it’s his story, too. He deserves to know, right?

It’s during a stay-in date night at his new apartment that he asks. “Hey, Steve?” And part of him grimaces at the last time he used those words, in that exact progression, in the moment that should’ve been his last.

Steve startles on the couch. Untucks himself from under Eddie’s arm. And full body faces him. Wide eyes, tight mouth, and wrinkled brow.

“Nobody’s told me how I…how I managed to survive. Will you tell me?” He asks quietly. Even his voice is as tired as his brain is. He used to be good at masking this. The waves of discontent that flood from his body every once in a while. It was manageable because it was just about his parents, or his living situation, or the bullies at school. But now it’s just him. It’s him as a whole, as a person who shouldn’t have lived. How nobody’s written Zombie Boy on the side of his van, he isn’t sure. He isn’t sure about a damn thing anymore.

But instead of answering, Steve just shakes his head. Tries to tuck back in close.

Eddie won’t have it. He scoots farther away. More distance. Why is there more distance? His emotions are haywire, he knows that. Something sparking red inside his chest, ready to light up in bright shades of orange through his mouth. “Why not?” He questions, though it falls flat and bitter. “Tell me,” he demands. Has practically skipped over the pleading stages, he’s done begging.

“I—“ And something in Steve’s eyes harden. Jaw setting with an unsubtle twitch. “I can’t tell you, Eddie,” he bites.

“You won’t tell me,” he accuses. “Which, I don’t get why you won’t. It’s something I want to know, don’t make me go to Dustin. Or Robin. They’ll fucking tell me.” The words fall from his mouth dark and slow. Dripping from him like the hot churn of tar. And he should regret how sour his tone has already gone, based on the hurt creeping into Steve’s face.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs. “Please don’t make me fight you on this right now. I—I literally can’t bring myself to say it. It’s…I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you, but it was one of the worst moments of my life. Is that not enough of a reason for you?” He could take this all back, really should, but Eddie just shakes his head stubbornly. Furrows his eyebrows and wags his hand as if to gesture for Steve to keep going. Instead, Steve stands from the couch and makes way to the door, hand stretched out for his sneakers. “I’m not fighting with you,” he states calmly. “I know that you’ve been curious or…or that you’ve been trying to come back to yourself or whatever, but it’s not something I’m willing to share. And it’s certainly not something I want to argue with you about.”

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs. “It’s probably bullshit anyway.” The fight leaves him all at once. As he leans into the couch, head at his lap, picking at his sweatpants. He sniffs, an attempt to rescind the tears that want to fall down his face.

But instead of leaving, Steve stays by the door and sighs. “Why do you want to know so bad?” He asks. Before Eddie can give him the same response, Steve quickly adds, “Don’t tell me that it’s ‘part of your story’ or whatever. I know it is. It’s just…Something’s different about this.”

He used to be unreadable. Unfathomable. Jumping between all kinds of things, unable to pinpoint him in a single way. But he shrugs. Goes quiet again. And mutters, “Just go, Steve. It doesn’t matter.” Even if he wants to say something about how he was supposed to die, or how he should’ve. Even if he wants to show all his cards: I’m lost, I’m different and everybody can tell, I’m falling apart, I’m close to death anyway.

Steve still doesn’t move.

“Go, Steve. I said that it doesn’t matter,” Eddie snaps. He raises his head. And for some reason, Steve is still there. Concerned and confused and sad all at once. He hates it. “I’m not gonna make you talk about it! Why are you still standing there?! You can go! I’ll find out one of these days, so stop looking at me like that!” He shouts. And he hates that, too. But he lets himself loud and angry, red faced and harsh lines. Because why won’t Steve just—

“You’re being a real dickhead, you know that?” Steve asks rhetorically. “I’m trying to save myself the fucking heartache I went through, and you—What, you think bullying words out of me is going to get you an answer?! I just don’t get why you’re so curious about what I saw! You’ve never pushed before, y’know, back during Starcourt or after Billy or whatever, but now it’s—“

Eddie groans and stands. Interrupting with his own words, “I’m not forcing you anymore, so let’s just drop it!”

“—Why does it matter in the first place?! You know what you did! It’s nothing different from—“

“Nothing different?! God, do you hear yourself?!”

“—Seriously, why does this matter so bad?! I don’t get it—“

“Because…Because I—“

“I thought you were dead!” Steve screams, just as Eddie shouts back:

“I wanted to die down there!”

And then the room fills with suffocating silence. As they stand merely four feet apart from each other. Wide eyed, red in the face, shaking. Immediately, Eddie looks down to the floor as Steve stops closer. Stepping back when he thinks they get too close to touching.

He doesn’t say anything about wanting to die, even now. Doesn’t say how even when Steve is doting on him, massaging his scars with lotion, taking care of him all sweet like—Eddie still wants to crawl outside of his skin and bury himself under the ground. Won’t say something about how he thought about all the ways in which he should’ve died, or could’ve died, or could still die now. Won’t.

Now, he understands why Steve can’t talk. Because he’s realizing he can’t talk either.

Steve’s voice is wet and heartbreaking when he asks, “What? Baby, why would you…”

Eddie just shakes his head. Heaves his own little wet thing. A sigh or a sob, it’s hard to tell. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I’m sorry,” he says first. “Please…Please go, Steve. I think I should lay down.”

“Hey, wait—No, Eds,” Steve calls out, his hand brushing briefly with Eddie’s wrist. But he can’t grasp. Not with how Eddie turns away, down the hallway, and slams his bedroom door behind him.

They don’t see each other for a week after that.

Eddie stays closed up and silent in his bedroom. Under his comforter. Unmoving. Briefly gets up to go to the bathroom. In which he tries to avoid how his uncle stares at him. Doesn’t want to eat, can’t bring himself to eat. Not with the guilt that fills his stomach anyway. Steve shouldn’t have heard that. Shouldn’t know that that part exists inside of Eddie, but it does. And it festers.

Festers uncaring that Eddie doesn’t want to feel this way. Just lingers heavy on his shoulders, tight in his belly, grumbling in his chest. It, that desire, tingles in his fingertips. As he takes his medications, holding onto the plastic bottles longer than he needs to. When he carries a cigarette between his two fingers, eyeing the embers sparking over his bare skin. It’s in the haunting images in his nightmares, where he lays bloody and exhausted and finally in solitude. But he wakes up sobbing anyway. Grasping to his elbows, rocking back and forth in his bed, biting down on his comforter or his blanket as to not wake up Wayne.

It’s still there when he sees Steve next.

A knock to his bedroom door, hesitant and small. Then, the bustle of movement clambering through. His shadow standing over the end of Eddie’s bed. “Eds?” Steve’s voice is low and cautious, standing on eggshells. “Baby? I—uh—I got a call from Wayne saying you were…That you weren’t feeling good. Just wanted to check on you.” Eddie pulls his head out from under his blanket and just blinks at Steve. He takes that as some sort of cue, though, and comes closer. Hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed. He lays his right hand over Eddie’s forehead and frowns. “You don’t feel warm or anything. How aren’t you feeling good?” He asks. And his face is all too soft. A little smile. The creases at the corners of his eyes. How his body language is still so sweet and caring and…It just doesn’t make sense with how Eddie treated him last.

So, without a response to give, Eddie allows himself to weep. A quiet thing at first, but that bubbles and pops and explodes from out of him in the next moment. Tumbling from him admits blubbering, apologies and terrible explanations and how he didn’t mean to push. Steve startles lightly, pulls his hand away, but doesn’t get very far. Eddie plunges his hand out from under the blanket, grabs to Steve’s retreating hand, and holds on firmly. “Please, don’t go,” he pleads, “Don’t go, Steve. I don’t—I can’t—“

Carefully, Steve burrows himself into Eddie’s blanket. Flush against Eddie’s torso. Arms wrapping around his shaking shoulders. Lips to his forehead, murmuring, “Hey, hey, Eds. You’re okay. I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.” And when Eddie’s crying only gets louder, Steve squeezes impossibly tighter. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always, Eds. I’m right here with you,” he attempts to placate.

When the crying gets hoarse and Steve’s words are just sticky kisses to Eddie’s forehead, does he calm down. Sniffing loud, burrowing in close to Steve’s warmth, scratching his chin with his wild and unwashed hair. “I didn’t mean to say it that way,” he mumbles, “It’s true, but I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Steve lets out a carefully measured breath. “I just hope that you don’t think like that now,” he murmurs. A tinge of sadness at the edges of his voice.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and the scream in his chest. The quiver in his palms and the thoughts in his head, he tries to steady. Of course this isn’t easy. “I do, sometimes. I don’t like it, though. And I’d never…But I thought my life was over at that point, you have to understand that, Steve,” he begins to explain. “And like—My life now, I may have some things. I may have you still and Uncle Wayne. I have Dustin and Mike and Lucas, our game and whatnot. But I can’t…Things that used to matter to me, they don’t mean anything at all. They just make me think of that place. It’s just…My life feels drastically different now and like there’s nothing to fix it.”

Above him, where Steve’s chin rests on the top of his head, he hears and feels the hum Steve emanates. He swipes one hand down the center of Eddie’s back. The other holding tight to the back of his head. “I think fix is the wrong word. Maybe just…You just need to be guided. But I don’t think I’m the right person to do that.”

“I know,” Eddie mutters. “I’ll have to find something because I’m not putting the people around me through—I’m not going to let you lose me,” he states determinedly. “Just please don’t go. And know that I really am sorry, that I am grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“It sucked,” Steve admits. “But I’m right here with you. By your side through the thick of it. And I forgive you, as long as you stick by me.”

All Eddie can do is burrow in closer, nod, and let himself succumb to Steve’s warmth. To be saved from near death is one thing, but to be held away from it is another. And Steve has done that for him. He kisses Steve’s chest, where his heart is, and makes a silent promise that he will find a better tomorrow for himself.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort #very angsty #arguments and making up

28 notes · View notes

svuobsessed · 25 days

Text

Olivia Benson X Daughter reader

Summary: Y/N Benson is attacked on her way home, her Mum is not happy and Elliot is pissed.

TW: almost SA, description of almost rape, not much only the first part.

Third person pov...

14 year old Y/N Benson was on her way home from school, texting her friends as she walked, her bag on her back, she was heading to the station to meet her Mum so they could go home together.

As she walked she walked past a white man mid 20s, The instant she did she felt his eyes on her, it heightened her anxiety but she kept on walking, slowly she got out her phone from her pocket and began tapping on it.

The man then pushed himself away from the wall and began following the teen, he was tall, kept his head down.

Y/N looked behind her every few seconds while tapping on her phone.

She was planning to text her Mum and tell her what was happening, as she did she began quicker, she heard the man walk faster to catch up with her.

The H/C girl taps her Mums contact and begins typing, they had a code word for incidents like this.

"Hey there" comes voice from behind the girl scaring her. She turns quickly and hides her phone, the teen looks up it was the guy following her.

She stared at the man, not saying a word. This made the man angry, Y/N saw grit his teeth slightly, she then inches away slightly from him.

The guy keeps a friendly smile on his face as he looks at the young girl. "Sorry for scaring ya. Just wanted to ask if you could tell me where the library is?" He asks the girl, Y/N doesnt relax her legs tense she was ready to run if the guy posed as a threat.

She looks at the time on her phone her message to her Mum still open. Once seeing the time she looks back up. "Sorry can't help you" she says to the man unapologetic.

She turns to run but her wrist is grabbed, the mans grip was hard and it was painful. Y/N tried to wretch her arm away but it only made the grip on her wrist tighten, he was twisting her wrist a way it shouldn't go.

Tears at the corner of her eyes she tried to yell for help but one look from the guy said 'you scream and I break it' so she kept her mouth shut, with her hand gone she uses her other to try and text behind her back.

The guy sees this and grabs her phone, eyes in horror Y/N watches as he smashes her phone, struggling in his arms Y/N tries to wriggle away but isn't able to, she is then dragged into an alleyway.

She teenager tries to drag her feet but he is to strong, Tears in her eyes Y/Ns back is forced up again the wall, she begins scratching at the man, his hands , face anywhere she could reach. The guy takes it and pins her wrists to the wall.

He then slaps her face. "Stop struggling bitch! Or this will hurt" he yells at her, the teen freezes in fear, cheek turning a nasty red.

Smirking he begins trailing his free hand to her chest unbuttoning her school shirt, she looked away from him as he kept touching her, "Mummy" she cries quietly.

Thinking of her mum gave her the strength to open her eyes, she starts to stare, the creep looks up at her smirk gone at the new found fury in her eyes.

'Show no fear' she thinks, as she continues staring into his eyes. Luckily he let's go of her wrists, taking the chance Y/N swings her leg back and kicks him in thr groin.

"Fuck! You little bitch!" He yells holding his area, Y/N quickly rips out of his grasp, grabbing her bag she hits him one last time before running out of the alleyway not stopping until she got to the station.

Olivia was sat at her desk, her daughter was late. Looking at the clock again she became even more worried. Y/N should've been there 20 minutes ago.

Elliot waves at his partner from across the table. "Liv? Hello? Liv!" Liv shake sher head ans turns to Elliot. "Sorry El" she tells him.

Elliot shakes his head. "It'll right, are you okay?" He asks her, Olivia goes to answer but us cut off by something behind Elliot.

Face of horror, she stands from her desk and walks around Elliot towards the entrance, standing at the doors was a young girl, school shirt unbuttoned, shirt ruffled, bag barely hanging onto her shoudler, her face was a bright red turning purple.

"Y/N, baby what happened to you?" Before anyone knew it the young girl collapsed in a fit of sobs falling to her knees, Olivia bent to catch her in her arms. The girl only sobbed harder as she clung to the woman.

Liv tried to comfort her but was unsuccessful, eventually they were able to move the two into a room. Olivia sat with her daughter curled up on her lap still holding onto her neck.

Olivia rubbed her hand up and down

Y/Ns back, the girl was clearly traumatized, the team were worried.

"Y/N baby, you gotta tell me whats happened okay" she tells the girl, Y/N had calmed down alot since she was in her mother's arms.

Outside Elliot is pacing, he was worried about Y/N. He'd never seen her so upset before it scared him.

Inside Y/N pulled away from her Mums shoudler, sniffling she told her. Olivia was shocked, she was worried and she was pissed. "Baby, I'm so sorry that happened to you, I swear to god I will catch that bastard" she reassured the teen.

Eventually Y/N passed out from all her crying, Liv gave her a change of clothes a mix of her tshirt and Elliots sweatpants. The teen was currently asleep in the cots in the lockeroom.

Liv sits at her desk frozen as if in a trace, after what her daughter told her she didn't know what to think. As she sat El walked over to her.

"Liv, hey did Y/N tell you what happened?" He asks her, Liv shakes herself awake, the tears in her eyes scare Elliot, he kneels on the floor infront of her holding her hand gently.

"Liv-Ss-she told me she was almost raped" she cries, Elliot pulls her into a hug. If he didn't he would've smashed his fit into the table. "W-what" his throat dry.

Once Y/N was awake she gave them a description of the man who attacked her, she told them everything she rememberd she could never forget the way his hands felt or his piercing gaze.

Days later they caught the guy, attacking another young girl, before hand cuffing him Elliot and Liv managed to get a few good hits in for Y/N, all the team managed to get revenge for Y/N, Fin slammed him extra hard into the table in the interrogation room.

Munch made fun of the guy and told all his insecurities, Casey tore into him during his trail so bad he instantly pleaded guilty and got sent to prison for 20 years.

After that Liv made sure Y/N never walked home by herself again, always either with a friend or member of SVU. Y/N eventually recovered from the ordeal.

The end!

A rather angsty one hope you liked it, sorry for the wait, also for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1302

#angst #law and order svu #svu #olivia benson #elliot stabler #happy ending #oneshot #assult #x teen!reader #olivia benson x teen reader #olivia benson x daughter reader #tw sa mention #very angsty #bastard gets what he deserves

31 notes · View notes

almendriww · 1 year

Text

— what happened when he wasn't there to pull you back from the darkness, wanda?

#oooooooohhhh #very angsty #but look at the replies there’s a happy ending there :))#my art #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #the vision #scarletvision #WandaVision #marvel #TW blood

299 notes · View notes

k-0re · 9 months

Text

tptm chp 19!!

this chapter made me very sad 😀

but hey flustered bela 🥳

#art #my art #artists on tumblr #tptm #to promise the moon #very angsty #very sad #reader cant catch a break 😥

93 notes · View notes

yunomagic · 1 year

Text

What if: sonic sacrifices himself in sonic the hedgehog 3 instead of shadow?

Okay so before we start this, a key thing i want ppl to remember is that movie sonic is incredibly selfless. Like, when tails got hurt for the first time he immediately jumped straight into danger and refused to accept help from his parents and was also willing to DIE for them in exchange for the safety. No questions asked. Hes rlly just too selfless for his own good, and i imagine that quality carries over to sonic the hedgehog 3

ALSO this is gonna be more based on headcanon cuz, the movie is in two years by the time yall are reading this so yeah dont take my word for it. Do what you will with the following scenario and information. Anyways here we go:

First of all, sonic and shadow are probably going to have an interesting dynamic in the third film. Mainly because of their experience with grief and familial loss. Sonic lost someone who was like a mother to him, shadow lost someone who was like a sister to him. They both failed to save the women that played an important part in their lives and were heavily traumatized by their deaths. How the two hedgehogs deal with their grief is where their paths diverge a little.

Sonic spent ten years living in isolation, being afraid of himself and what people will think of him if he revealed himself to the world. And possibly beat himself up so many times for failing to save longclaw, while trying to make her proud by becoming a hero on the streets. Shadow on the other hand suffered from manipulation under gerald robotnik, who forced him to become humanity’s final destruction, although he was created to help it. And instead of beating himself up, shadow became filled with rage and unspeakable hurt. He found it easier to blame humanity for the death of maria and uses his anger as a driving force for revenge. Which undoubtedly, is a more dangerous path of grief he chose to walk on.

Thus, the two hedgehogs are foils, two sides of the same coin. They arent too dissimilar to each other, especially in the roots of their pasts. They learn that there’s more to the other than just looking like each other. Unfortunately, due to drastic circumstances, one of them is going to relive through their trauma of losing someone all over again, and dealing with that same feeling of loss and self-blame.

Everyone knows how SA2 ends, shadow sacrifices himself to save humanity and dies while doing so. But if the film wants to do something different, (and give everyone a huge punch in the gut), they’re going to twist that fate in some way.

Its already in the title but i still propose it: what if sonic was the one who sacrifices himself instead?

Its the final hour, the bio lizard has been defeated, but the ark is still falling down to earth. Running out of time, shadow blurts out the idea that hes going to use the power of the chaos emeralds to push back the ark into orbit, maybe he can save humanity. Sonic, is dumbfounded, shadow is going to die and he knows it. Shadow knows it too, but what other options are there?

Panicking, sonic defaults to HIS way of solving problems. Talking it out. Fast.

“You can’t just throw away your life like it has no meaning! You— You don’t have to use all that power. You can stay with us back on Earth! You can— you can have a life there! Just like you and Maria would’ve wanted!”

Shadow of course is insistent that this is his destiny. His fate. If hes destined to be the last hope to save humanity, then itd be fitting if he were to die. Sonic is still frightened and restless, he’s getting a familiar itch in his throat and a familiar heaviness in his chest. The same feeling he felt years ago, when he was a small, helpless child.

No. Hes NOT going to lose someone to the same fate again.

“You made a promise to Maria, to keep everyone happy right?”

Shadow glances at sonic, eyes widened, knowingly.

“That includes you too shadow.”

“Are you crazy?! If you do that then—“

“I wont be able to go back home to my parents and my brothers, or the townspeople of Green Hills. I know. But they survived long enough even before i came into their life. They need someone who can keep them happy.”

Shadow too, gets the familiar itch in his throat, the familiar tightness in his chest. Fear. Panic. Memories resurfacing. A parallel of maria shines through sonic’s selfless attitude.

“…and that someone is you, shadow.”

“Sonic—“

Sonic shoves shadow away with as much force as he could. A wistful smile present on his muzzle, along with a sorrowful glaze in his eyes. Shadow, with a raised voice, stretches out his hand. Hes trying to reach for sonic.

The blue blur has more experience with the chaos emeralds than shadow does. Making this sacrifice should be easy. If it werent for the grief-stricken ebony hedgehog reaching out behind him. For one last send off, sonic and shadow’s eyes meet for the last time.

Its crazy how they thought so lowly of each other when they first met, and nearly tried to kill each other. But the more time they spent, the more did the hedgehogs realize how much the other is truly worth, and how much respect they hold for one another. Its a shame they wont get to spend more time together back on earth.

A damn shame. But humanity needed a fresh sacrifice.

One pair of eyes, plaintive yet noble, another pair of eyes, staggered and fearful, stare at each other, for one millisecond.

Sonic raises his hand, not to reach back out to shadow. But to wave. Wave goodbye.

“Please… keep them happy for me, okay? Promise me. You’ll protect my family.”

Shadow cant hold back his apprehension any longer. Fruitlessly calling out to sonic for him to come back. To not go away. To not throw HIS life away like it had no meaning. Of course, it falls on deaf ears, and two voices say at once:

“Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog…”

Followed by a yell of chaos control, a blinding light, a futile chase for a falling body, and no recollection of being sent back onto the ark. To be greeted by an array of faces. All grief-stricken, mournful, sullen, and unreadable.

Shadow, in spite of his own grief and his own recollection of his past trauma. Does his best to comfort sonic’s brothers. He’ll attempt to do the same to his parents back on earth.

A couple months have passed by then, and shadow has learned from his past mistakes. Right now, he wont go down the path of revenge and go guns blazing in the streets again. Right now, he has a promise to keep. A promise to her, and a promise to him. Of course, thered be times where he wonders and hopes that hes doing enough to keep humanity, the people of green hills, and sonic’s family happy. Hes trying his best, and he’ll keep on trying no matter what.

Shadow sometimes fantasizes about a scenario where sonic lived, and the blue blur shows him around green hills. Rambling non-stop with that annoying (yet kind of endearing) voice of his, maintaining that same charm. Cracking jokes shadow cant understand, showing him technology and culture shadow has to learn. It wouldve been… nice to still have him around. It really wouldve been. He wishes it so.

Tails and knuckles are starting to warm up to the ultimate life form, and the wachowski’s appreciate shadow’s efforts in helping humanity. Understanding that he has no intentions of replacing their son, and cherish everything the ebony hedgehog does to honor green hills’ fallen blue devil.

And even shadow knows that the world is filled with cruelty and sorrow. Yet it was the world that maria wanted to live in, and it was the world that sonic chose to fight for and protect. There’s a lot of awful, sad things in the world. But there are still things, people, worth protecting.

There’s a promise.

Shadow will remember it.

Shadow will never forget it.

And that is why…

He will keep fighting.

(If things are messy sorry ill edit it when i get back from canada which is tomorrow lol-)

222 notes · View notes