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art blog(derogatory)
blake kathryn
Product Placement
Cosimo Galluzzi
PR's Tumblrdome
d e v o n
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Andulka
taylor price
ellievsbear
Today's Document
styofa doing anything
KIROKAZE
Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
🪼
No title available
titsay
Discoholic 🪩
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Cyprus
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@ick-aruss
Thought it was a good idea to make a links page for this little au, just incase it actually goes somewhere lol
The ForgottenTale main story is here!
Chapter One - The First Run
Game Start
A scared little flower
Flowey will remember this decision
The Scary Lady
A Fleeing Situation
A Breather
Side Stuff
Art and little animations
🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸
My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t
If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
With love and endless gratitude
🕊️ Nadin’s Hope: A Mother, A Memory, A Future
Hello, my name is Nadin I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate. I’m a wife. And now — I’m a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small design studio, of making art that told stories. I used to think about colors, fonts, sketches. I used to think about the future.
Then the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home. 25 members of our family were killed — his mother, his siblings, his nieces and nephews, children. Entire branches of a family tree gone in seconds.
We were displaced twice after that. Everything we had disappeared — home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib. No stillness. No celebration.
But she came into the world quietly and beautifully. And in her eyes, I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, I spend my days holding her and trying to build a world around her that doesn’t shake with explosions.
We don’t know what comes next. There is no clear path. We are walking toward the unknown, step by step — with our daughter in our arms and hope as our guide.
🧡 How You Can Help
This is why I’m asking for support. Not for comfort — but for survival. To help care for one baby girl who entered the world after everything else collapsed.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
If you can spare anything, it will help us:
Cover basic needs, so we can breathe and heal
Support a path toward even the smallest stability in a place that has none
My husband manages the donations securely through a U.S.-registered Stripe account. Everything is converted to USDT and exchanged here in Gaza. The rates are difficult — $100 becomes only 195 shekels (July 2025) — but we use every shekel carefully, with full transparency and documentation.
🎨 Sharing a Piece of Me
I want to share more than my need. Over the next few weeks, I’ll begin posting some of my graphic designs from before the war. They are pieces of who I was — and who I still am.
They may not be perfect, but they hold something real: my story before the silence, and my belief that beauty can still live alongside survival.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. If you can give — thank you. And if you can’t, just sharing this post is a form of support I will never forget.
an asriel and kris comic i made (they are the siblings ever)
fun fact this is based off of true events, my little brother pulled this shit and i figured that this scenario would fit them so well
A Breather
Previous
A Breather
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Help me join Vgen!
Hey everyone! You might know me from my fanart or some of my short comics, but I'm here to ask for YOUR help!
I'll get straight into it. I need this post to get to 100 likes and 5 unique comments so that I can get accepted into Vgen. Vgen is this amazing site that helps artists get their commissions out there and make it easier to find clients and work with higher chances of not being scammed
Here's some of my art for you to get a feel on
Please take a small amount of time to give a like or a repost to help get this post moving and so that I can get onto Vgen. Thank you for listening to this small rant and I wish everyone else trying to get into Vgen a swift entry!
!! Help me get into VGen !!
Hi! I usually just post fanart here and only ever ramble through the tags, but this is important for me, so please read
TL; DR is that I need this post to reach 100 likes and 5 unique comments in order to be accepted into VGen. Here's the full explanation:
I've been drawing seriously for about 9 years now (here are some examples)
For all this time, I've only ever done commissions to people I've known personally, but after all this time I feel like I've gotten to the level where I feel confident about beginning to try to work with this and go after my dreams
After some researching I found out about VGen - a site design to help both artists find clients and to help people to not end up scammed by fakers. I found it great, but issue is that getting in VGen as an artist can be hard. I'm not friends with anyone who's in so I cant ask for a code directly, I tried the contest but it didn't work out and I don't want to have to rely purely on luck - this is where you come in!
Another way of being approved is sending in a post with the tag and having it reach 100 likes and 5 unique comments. I don't like asking for engagement, but Tumblr is the platform I've done the most numbers on and I feel like this is easier than spending months trying to win at the contest
Any reblog or like genuinely means the world to me and it only takes a few moments of your time. Alternatively, if you're in VGen and have a spare code, I'd be eternally grateful if you were so kind to share it
If this doesnt work, I'll probably just keep adding the tag to my next posts until something eventually gets there. Regardless, if you read this far, thank you
Reblogging this to not let it be forgotten - we already reached the necessary comments and are half way there with the likes! Thanks so much to everyone who helped this far 💕
If you haven't yet, please consider leaving a like - its a single click for you, but it can really help me!
Aaaa i really hope you'll be able to get in there. Vgen is such a cool website and I also want to get on there because this is genuinely such an amazing thing for artists
Every time I start to feel like my art isn't improving, I try redrawing old art and that usually makes me feel better This is like one of my very first Ocs that I made when I was 8 and drew like every day. Her name was Milly but I'm changing it to either Maeve or Meadow
Every time I start to feel like my art isn't improving, I try redrawing old art and that usually makes me feel better This is like one of my very first Ocs that I made when I was 8 and drew like every day. Her name was Milly but I'm changing it to either Maeve or Meadow
Thought it was a good idea to make a links page for this little au, just incase it actually goes somewhere lol
The ForgottenTale main story is here!
Chapter One - The First Run
Game Start
A scared little flower
Flowey will remember this decision
The Scary Lady
A Fleeing Situation
Side Stuff
Art and little animations
Dang. No wonder it's called forgottontale, from what i can tell even the owner forgot it. That's sad, I really liked it.
LMAOOOO I DIDNT FORGET IT I SWEAR 😭😭😭😭
Help a Family in need
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.
Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.
As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.
In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.
Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.
For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.
Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.
Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.
Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.
Adam
✅ Vetted by Association: @bilal-salah0
Donate & share: Donation Link
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is faci… Adam Bin Ali needs your support for Help Mohamad reunite his family
bbno$ jayvik stream got me acting unwise
ref
Must Be Something In The Water - Smile 2 Alternate Ending/Continuation
Chapter 1
The screams were deafening. Loud enough to drown out the blaring ringing feedback from the microphone.
The very same microphone that was now grotesquely smashed into Skye Riley’s face, the entire right half covered in blood and other unidentifiable flesh.
As the puddle of blood continued to grow around the now completely still pop star, the entire crowd abruptly surged backwards, as if just beginning to come out of a trance.
And then the true panic began.
It was a free for all, and every single person in the auditorium was scrambling, dashing, and dragging their ways past each other and through the sea of terrified concert goers in an attempt to escape the horrifying scene that had played out before them.
Not everyone was darting for the exits, however. There were still several people (whether it be the morbidly curious, or the devastated family and friends of Skye) that had stayed behind and were now instead rushing towards the stage towards the dead pop singer.
Elizabeth rushed forwards, her daughter’s name in her mouth as she screamed, immediately hopping over the small divider fence and immediately moving to climb up onto the stage where her child had been standing only moments ago. Back when all of her blood was still inside her body.
Elizabeth tore through the small crowd of security guards, police officers, a few concerned concert goers, backup dancers and a few friends of Skye’s.
“Move!!! Jesus MOVE!!” She screamed at them, her voice breaking as she approached her daughter’s still form.
Finally, after what felt like ages, the crowd parted enough that Elizabeth could rush through, and was immediately taken aback once she reached her.
Skye’s face (smeared with still-warm blood) was drawn in a tight smile, her one remaining eye completely empty.
Elizabeth froze, feeling as though her heart had just been shattered, ripped apart into tiny pieces, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Before she could stop herself, she keeled over and vomited on the now bloodstained stage.
A strong, tough figure rushed to her side, kneeling beside her as the crowd closed once again, pushing Elizabeth to the outskirts. Several people were frantically calling 911, requesting for aid and medical attention.
Elizabeth knew better.
Her daughter, no matter how much she wanted her to be alive, was not there anymore.
She gagged again, and she felt a hand lightly touch her back, before a pair of arms tugged her to her feet and embraced her.
When had she started crying? She found she couldn’t tell.
And who was screaming like that?? Oh wait. That was also her.
Her hands found their way around the strong figure’s torso, hands latching onto the back of their shirt and squeezing.
The night moved like a blur.
One moment, there was a crowd on the stage, and she was in the middle of it, then she was sprinting out after a group of paramedics who were frantically trying to pack Skye’s wounds, injecting her with adrenaline, and performing CPR on her body. Elizabeth knew that it was a futile and hopeless attempt. Skye was gone, and she found that she could quite literally not process that thought.
The last thing she had said to her daughter was encouragement to smile. To get out there on the stage and have fun, relax, perform. Sing her heart out, and dance, and enjoy her life and her success.
A sudden realization dawned on Elizabeth as she was frantically climbing into the passenger seat of the escort vehicle.
Skye had begged her to not have to perform.
She had said she wasn’t ready. That she was scared and that she felt like she was going crazy.
And how did she react??
She had called her daughter a selfish spoiled brat.
Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, another gut wrenching sob tearing its way from her throat as the van pulled away, quickly moving to catch up to the ambulance that carried her daughter.
“The sirens are still on,” the driver was saying in a panicked voice. “They only keep the lights and sirens on if there is a chance at survival. If they had declared her dead, the sirens would be off.”
“My baby…” she found herself sobbing, leaning into the arms of that same strong figure that she had held her moments ago on the stage. “My beautiful girl…” Glancing up with watery tear filled eyes, she found that it was Darius who was embracing her still.
She couldn’t make herself care enough to stop crying.
——•——-
A few yards away, within the ambulance that was still barreling its way through traffic on the way to the hospital, was a group of paramedics, all frantically trying to regain a pulse within the now flatlining pop star.
The woman on the table was small, much shorter than most, and inherently beautiful. All of them could see and knew it, but there was just something… off. About the way her face looked. Something about that horrible smile that had been stuck to the star’s face since she had struck herself with the microphone.
One paramedic clipped open the girl’s outfit, exposing the upper half of her chest. Another two were carefully and delicately removing the microphone from her face, and then trying to pack the wound full of antiseptic and gauze.
The third was preparing the defibrillators to shock life back into the lifeless girl.
“Hands off, everyone back!!!” The paramedic yelled, and immediately, everyone stepped away from her. “Clear!” He shouted, pressing the machines against her chest and causing her entire body to jolt with the electrical current. The flatline tone continued.
Everyone held their breath. This was it. If she didn’t regain a heartbeat after the third shock to the heart, she would be pronounced dead.
“Clear!!” The paramedic shouted once again, pressing the defibrillators back against her skin and causing her body to jump once again with the shock. The flatline droned on.
Two paramedics grabbed each others hands, squeezing them tightly.
“Come on now dammit!!” The paramedic shouted, charging the defibrillators one final time. “Clear!!” The man yelled, his voice brimming with desperation as he pressed the machines against her skin again. She convulsed once again, and the flatline continued.
Everyone went silent, everyone’s hearts heavy with the realization that there was no saving Skye Riley.
The famous pop star was dead. She was officially dead.
Everyone lowered their heads, two of the paramedics even allowing a few tears to stream down their cheeks.
“…Call it,” the lead paramedic said, and another looked down at his watch.
“Time of death: 7:24 pm, Octob-“
*beep.*
Everyone silenced immediately, all eyes flickering up to the heart monitor.
*beep.*
Another small beep echoed in the silent ambulance.
*beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The machine let out a few small uneven beeps before finally regaining a rhythm once again, and slowly but surely picking up speed.
Every paramedic was silent before they all turned their eyes back towards each other, relief etched into all of their expressions.
“Oh Jesus Christ, it’s a miracle,” one of them mumbled with a soft laugh.
Must Be Something In The Water - Smile 2 Alternate Ending/Continuation
Chapter 2
Everything felt… foggy.
Like floating in an endless abyss of nothingness.
Everything felt overwhelming. Like the nothingness that surrounded her was beginning to consume her from the inside out. She could feel herself wasting away, becoming one with the universe all over again.
And you know what? That was okay, she found.
Nothing was better than everything. She had gone through so much in her final days, and she was quite frankly looking forward to finally escaping the pain and suffering.
And then…. Out of the nothingness came….
…something.
A pinprick of light at the edge of her vision, as if the darkness was only a sheet of paper, and had been stabbed by a sewing needle.
She reached for that light, letting it grow and swallow her.
For a moment, (or maybe it had been a while???) All she could feel was the feeling of cool air blowing against her skin, and the sounds of machines beeping all around her.
She slowly, and groggily regained consciousness, trying and failing to remember anything and everything that had taken place. Where she was. How she’d managed to get here.
The room had gone silent, she noticed first. That was odd. That monotonous beeping had been nice.
She felt her eyes flutter open, still blurry with sleep, and …. For some reason, her right eye was dark. As if something was blocking her vision.
She slowly lifted her fingertips towards her face, her arm trembling with the insane amount of effort it took to raise her arm at all. Her hand found soft cotton surrounding that half of her face. Had something happened to her eye???
She found, to her own dismay, she couldn’t recall. She couldn’t remember a lot, actually. What had happened. Who she was.
That one frightened her a little bit.
She couldn’t even recall her own name. She couldn’t recall… anyone’s name. She could remember vague faces and voices, but…. None of them had a name attached to their face.
She looked around, trying to make her eyes regain focus. The room was mostly dark, all aside from the light filtering in through the window nearby.
Once again, she realized that the room was dead silent, and horribly still. Was she in the hospital?? It almost seemed to be too quiet to be a hospital at all.
She opened her mouth and sucked in a breath, feeling her heart beginning to race as more and more questions without answers bubbled up.
She attempted to speak, and found that her throat was incredibly dry, her voice coming out cracked and inaudible. She hoarsely coughed, and tried clearing her throat.
“H-hello??” She croaked, hearing her own voice leaving her mouth and sounding so unlike her. She looked around the room again, and saw absolutely no movement. Heard no movement whatsoever. “Hello??? Someone help…” she whispered into the dark calm of the room, and was once again met with silence.
All at once, she realized that she was incredibly thirsty. She felt as though she hadn’t drank anything for days.
Her eyes darted to her bedside table, finding several vases of slightly wilted flowers and multiple cards, boxes, clothes… just a whole lot of nothing helpful. She found herself wincing, a pain beginning to flare up in her face and lower back.
Oh jeez. She couldn’t remember much from before, but she could definitely remember that back pain.
“…Doctor?” She called out, her rasping voice still barely breaching a whisper. “Nurse?… Anyone??” She breathed slowly, not understanding how she could be waking up like this and not have doctors and nurses surrounding her like vultures.
Why was that though??
She glanced over to the upper panel of her bed, and noticed the buttons to adjust her bed, as well as a big red button labeled “CALL”. She raised a shaking hand up and pressed the button, expecting a beep, a crackle of static from the speaker, anything. She was only met with silence. How odd. She pressed the button a few more times, listening closely to see if it was working. Silence was the only sound that greeted her.
She rolled her eyes in annoyance, feeling a little flare of frustration rise up inside her. Those damn call buttons were literally there to save lives, and it just so happens that she got the one that didn’t work. Fantastic.
Her eyes were drawn back to the vase of flowers, more importantly, the water that the flowers were sitting in.
Her stomach churned at the sight of the water, and suddenly it didn’t seem to be such a big deal that she was in pain or that the doctors weren’t immediately at her bedside, because all she cared about was the fact that she needed water. Asap.
She reached her trembling arm out towards the vase, and found that lifting just the weight of her arm felt like an impossible task. She strained, trying to scoot over just enough that she could bat at the vase with her fingertips. She was finally able to get a slight grip on the vase and she dragged it closer, her hands reaching up towards the flowers she didn’t give a shit about, and tossing them to the floor.
She reached her other arm out, and carefully took the vase into her hands. Her arms shook with the effort it took to keep the vase held up, and after what felt like eternity, she was able to set the vase into her lap.
She felt a little grossed out at the thought of drinking from a dirty vase, but another part of her couldn’t make herself care enough to not get a drink.
Bringing the vase to her lips with trembling hands, she took a long drink of the water, and immediately felt her mouth and throat cool down. It was glorious, and the taste was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She didn’t really have time to taste it much before she was chugging the entire vase of water, ignoring the splashes that ran down her chin and onto the sheets and blankets.
She made it about ½ way through the water when a thought struck her, almost making her drop the vase on accident.
Her mother wasn’t here.
The memory of her mom startled her, and she found herself pulling the vase away from her mouth and sucking in a nervous breath.
Her eyes scanned the room again, this time in search of her mom. The room was still silent. Still empty.
She was still alone.
She had been angry with her mom, she slowly began to remember. She had yelled at her about something, and then her mom had screamed back at her. And then….
She glanced up to the wall, and found a mirror hanging on the opposite wall from her. In the mirror, she was able to see her own reflection staring back at her, and she was taken aback.
Her face was wrapped in a white cloth that was completely covering the entire right side of her face. She had a substantial amount of bruising around her usable eye and her nose, painting her skin in deep shades of black, blue and purple. Her hair was a tousled mess, and she looked as though she had not eaten anything in ages.
She looked frail. Weak.
She exhaled slowly, feeling her own breath shaking with her as things began to piece together.
Her name was Skye. She was a famous singer. And…something bad happened to her. A lot of bad things had happened to her, but something worse happened to her.
She vaguely remembered standing up on a stage, and seeing thousands of eyes gazing back at her from the darkness, lights from above completely blinding her. She remembered being terrified.
Suddenly, and all at once, her stomach did a flip and she fell forwards, hanging her head over the edge of the bed and vomiting up all the water she had just drank. Skye gagged harshly, until nothing came up again. She reasoned that maybe she shouldn’t have drank all that water so fast.
The adrenaline shock seemed to sharpen her mind, and she realized that usually a doctor would’ve come to check on her by now, if this was just a typical hospital. But no one had come yet… and now that she thought about it, since when were hospitals ever this silent?
Her gaze turned towards the door nearby, and she noticed that the door was closed and locked completely.
Skye furrowed her brows in confusion. Why would the doctors lock her in her room?
She suddenly felt a strong urge to get up out of bed and go looking around for someone.
She glanced down at her left arm, finding tubes and needles poked into her skin, covered up with clear medical tape.
She reached for the tubes and tried to gingerly tug them free from her skin, but she was immediately met with a flash of pain when trying to pull on them. She grimaced, instead moving to peel the tape away instead.
That worked better, and she was able to quickly free herself from the tubes and needles. She tossed them down to the side of her bed and scrunched her nose in disgust when blood began to seep out of the holes they had left behind in her skin.
Skye slowly moved to swing her legs off the edge of the bed, and found that it took a lot of her strength and concentration to make her body work and coordinate with her mind. She sat there for a moment, shivering at the sudden cold, not being covered by her blankets any longer. It was freezing, and the hospital gown that she had wrapped loosely around her body was not nearly enough to keep her warm.
She shivered uneasily, exhaling slowly. A small puff of mist escaped her mouth.
Okay. That was weird. Hospitals definitely shouldn’t be cold enough that the patients can see their own breath.
Skye shivered, reaching forwards and pulling a folded up hoodie off of her nightstand and slowly pulling it on over her head. The black fabric was soft, and still completely untouched. It was one of the hoodies she had released the last time she went on tour, and had an embarrassingly large image of her own face printed on the front, her name trailing down the left sleeve in a loopy cursive font.
Without a second thought, she carefully pushed herself off the bed and climbed to her feet, her knees trembling under her weight, and her leg muscles immediately threatening to give out under her. She inhaled shakily, before quietly letting it out and taking a step. The moment her leg lifted off the ground, she lost her balance and fell backwards, stumbling into the hospital bed directly behind her.
The smooth plastic railing dug into her spine, and instantly sent shots of pain through her like red fireworks. She grabbed the edge of the bed with all her strength, biting back a scream of pain, and trying to force her leg muscles to work.
Finally, after what felt like forever, her legs had stopped shaking so harshly, and she felt as though she was now able to stand on her own without her muscles betraying her.
She stood still for a moment, still shakily trying to breathe and regain her composure again. Her back was still throbbing angrily, but she figured since it was just a small bump she probably would be okay for the time being.
She gingerly snaked her fingers back behind her back and pressed against the sore spot, feeling the familiar ridge of her surgery scar. She massaged small circles into her muscles, trying to keep herself calm while she tried to alleviate the pain.
It didn’t take long before her back released a bit of its tension, her muscles warmed up and ready to move again.
She exhaled slowly, turning to look around her room now that she was up on her feet.
As she suspected, she was most certainly in a small hospital room. The only odd thing about it… well, all the lights and machines in the room were off. Even the heart monitor that she had been hooked up to was silent, its screen dark.
She swallowed, a nervous feeling beginning to rise up. She held onto the railing of her hospital bed once again, and carefully lifted her foot up, the muscles in her other leg still trembling weakly, but managing to keep her supported. She tried the other leg, and had a similar result.
She supposed she would probably be okay as long as she was careful. She just needed to step out of her room and flag down a nurse.
She took a wobbling step forwards, taking her hand off of the bed and praying that she was able to stay upright.
Her head was really beginning to bother her, and her eye throbbed painfully with every heartbeat. She really hoped she could find a nurse soon. Fuck, some Vicodin would be phenomenal right now. That thought irked a little bit of irritation in her, realizing the likelihood of the doctors prescribing it to her was extremely slim.
She took a couple more steps, being careful to stay upright and balanced, and finally, she was able to press her shoulder against the wall again. At least she had something to keep her standing, even if she lost her footing.
She lifted an arm, already beginning to feel the exhaustion setting in just from walking over here. She really wished she could sit back down for a moment, but she also really needed to have a nurse come in and speak with her. She still was having trouble remembering what happened and just how exactly she had gotten here.
She reached forward and pushed the door latch open, and then unlocked the door handle. She breathed slowly, trying to keep her body moving. The last thing she needed to do was have a fall right now.
She pushed the door handle down and took a few steps forward, peeking out the door.
Her heart sank.
The hallway was almost completely pitch black, and there were only 2 of the overhead fluorescent lights illuminated down towards the end of the hall. In the dim light, she could see the faint outlines of runaway gurneys littering the halls, papers covering every surface, and (though she may have just imagined it) she could’ve sworn she saw the still form of a person down at the end of the hall, lying completely still.
She felt herself immediately tense up, her breath catching in her throat. She took a small step back, letting the door slowly swing closed.
She inhaled slowly, her interest in going searching for a doctor vanishing in an instant.
Her heart had already begun to hammer frantically in her chest, her muscles instinctively beginning to tremble with the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.
Oh god, something bad must be happening. Something really bad by the looks of it. How long had she been asleep for?? Where was everyone, and why had she been left here??
With panic beginning to course through her veins, she twisted the locks on her door closed once again and pushed the door stopper down. She took a few more steps away from the door, her mind beginning to flutter nervously with anxious thoughts. Why was she here?? What had happened?? Where were her friends and family? Where was her mom?
She let her fingers tangle into her hair, the nerves already overwhelming her, and she harshly tugged at her scalp in an attempt to make herself calm down. The longer she kept her hair clutched in her fist, the more it pulled her scalp until finally, several strands ripped free into her palms.
She felt herself take a deep breath in, letting the hair free from her hands and turning back towards her room.
There, on her nightstand, was her saving grace.
Her phone.
Instantly, her mind brightened at the thought. She could call the police. She could call her mom and ask her to pick her up. She could call Gemma-
Her mind nearly did a barrel roll at the memory of her lifelong friend’s name. Her old ride or die. The friend that insisted that she would stay with her through everything.
But she hadn’t, had she?
No. She had left when things got rough. When the drugs became an issue.
After Paul.
The crash.
Rehab, recovery, the tour, meet and greets, photo shoots, dress rehearsals, Lewis-
Her mind stopped on that memory, and it all was starting to come back to her. All the weird-ass behavior. The screaming. The crunching on bone and flesh against solid steel. The smile.
She outstretched her hand, bracing herself against the wall as her stomach did another somersault, and she instinctively leaned forward, attempting to throw something up that wasn’t there.
The smiles… they had been the problem. They were the things that had been chasing her, haunting her, hurting her. Using her mind like a weapon against herself. She remembered feeling as though she was going insane, like she had no control over anything that happened around or to her. Feeling less like a person and more like a puppet on a string, being yanked about for others entertainment.
For IT’s entertainment.
Another wave of nausea rolled over her as she explicitly remembered the way that awful….thing had looked at her. It looked so excited. So gleeful about her terror and pain. It’s eyes she remembered best of all. Those horrible bloodshot eyes, so swollen they looked ready to burst like overripe fruit left to rot.
The sounds of her jaw breaking inside her own head, as it tore her apart from the inside out.
That memory above all the others, made her physically cringe, her hands reaching up to grab at her face, just to satisfy her own mind that she did not, in fact, have her head split open like a watermelon.
That image made her feel even sicker.
She needed to stop thinking about this shit right now. There was a time and a place, and right now was not it.
She shambled back towards her bedside, her legs feeling stronger and stronger after each passing moment. Her hands found their way around her phone, unplugging it from the charger and clicking the power on. Her battery percentage was at 8 percent, it seemed the phone had never charged at all in the first place.
The date was November 25th, 2024.
The last point in which she could remember had been the launch day for her tour, which had been on October 18th.
She had been asleep for over a month.
batboys for a secret santa!! they get a new brother for christmas :]
secret santa gift I did for @fernlessbastard !
