Clark having beef with Billy is the one thing I would never let go in anything I write LOL
Billy's not his son, not his younger brother, not his friend, barely a colleague. Clark's blood boils everytime he sees the kid. He's easily irritated whenever Billy speaks. He has an urge to scold Billy whenever the boy charges in recklessly. He would tell Billy to be grateful for what he has. He would tell Billy to take things more seriously. Everything boy does drives Clark mad for no reason at all.
Why is it, anyway?
Isn't he supposed to be good and kind?
Not really, not with this one kid whose eyes are too sparkly for his own good. Naivety. Stupidity. Blind faith. Unbreakable will. Neverending patience.
Somewhere down the highway to Hell,
Clark has to hold the kid's broken body in his arms, barely alive, still a kid.
Billy's not his son, not his younger brother, not his friend, still barely a colleague to him.
But Clark may start to understand then, he's never seen Billy as anything of those names and titles. Whenever he looks at Billy, he sees himself, and he sees a life that will soon be lost to the endless pain and suffering the world may cause. And his ill-will towards the boy is the remnants of the regrets and doubts that he can never let surface, be seen, and be known; a part of himself that died too long ago.
In the end,
Superman is the symbol of Hope
But Clark is just a human. And like any other human on Earth, we all grow up to be inadequate adults that are, somehow, still loved and admired too much by our children.
Ppl make Virgil the voice of reason to much. That bitch is just as stupid as the rest of em. I yearn to read a silly fic where someone asks Virgil his opinion on like. Buying a lego set or something and he responds with “oh yeah buy it, if someone breaks in we can use it as a weapon or just hope it distracts them.” And Logan and Janus just look at him like
Can I ask for Freddy, Chica, Roxy, and Monty with an S/O who likes to roller skate in the PizzaPlex overnight and brought some big enough for them to join?
🎩Glamrock Freddy + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🎩
There are a lot of things Freddy is good at! Rollerskating is...not one of them. It's quite embarrassing, really. He's mortified that he's going to make a fool of himself in front of you, but if you really want him to try...he'll do it. For you, superstar. You may have to guide him through it, though. At least, until he gets the hang of it! Which he will, of course. He just...needs a little practice, first.
🐊Montgomery Gator + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐊
Monty sucks at rollerskating, period. He's big, he's clumsy, and he keeps tripping over his own damn feet. But it's not his fault--it's these freakin' skates! They don't fit right. And the floor is too slippery! And his laces were undone! And--(Yeah, yeah, sure.) Eventually he just goes off to the side to sulk. He just wanted to look cool in front of you, and now he looks like a total loser!
🍕Glamrock Chica + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🍕
I love to imagine that Chica is great at rollerskating. Out of the band, she's the best at it. She's even got her own skates! They've got her face on them! The two of you are twirling around the ring for hours on end, hand-in-hand, dancing and grooving and having the best time. She only stops once it's snack time, because who can say no to a good post-Skate Date pizza?
🐺Roxanne Wolf + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐺
Does she know how to skate? Pssh, yeah, obviously! Just. Hold her hand for a second. Why isn't important, just don't let go! Okay, fine...she doesn't know how to skate at all. She never learned, okay? And she pouts about it even more than Monty. It's not her fault she's bad at this! It's the skates! They're what's broken, not her! (She's gonna be sulking about this all night.)
ogujuhhhh. hi. im in a lot of pain because my uterus is betraying me and i want someone to cut it out of me
this is NOT as intense as i wanted it to be maybe im a baby but god do i wish roman would sedate me and rip my uterus out.
so with that in mind. tw/cw for roman fantasizing about putting his hands in your internal organs??, this is 3rd POV but only written with 'her' and no names or nicknames used for it. so like. sort of reader but sort of not.
wc: 1280(?) im p sure word said
shoutout to my husband who let me ask him 'what knife in your kitchen would you use to preform an emergency c-section' and helped me settle on one 😘
👨🏻⚕️🔪
he watches the way her hands push into her back as she stands in the shower. steam overtakes most of the space but he still has a clear view of her body. he doesn't need to see the blood to know it's there, she woke up in pain with a stain on his bed that in worse relationships would have bothered him.
"mmmh," she sighs and leans forward as the water beats on her lower back.
"should take it out," he offers, unhelpfully, before sticking his arm into the shower and pushing his hand against her lower back. it's freezing compared to the near boiling hot water of the stream. she jumps. "few cuts here and there, yank the whole thing out. scramble it in some eggs."
"'m pretty sure that's a placenta thing and not the uterus," she replies, trying to hold her breath as he digs his annoyingly - now warmish - knuckles into her back.
"same area," she's sure he shrugs when he says it even if she can't see it. "what's it matter if you want it out of you?"
"do you want it out of me?" why is she even giving him the-
"are you - right now," another unhelpful dig of his knuckles into her lower back which makes her exhale harshly, "are you asking me about kids right now?"
really a larger conversation for another day.
"that's not-"
"oh i'd love to make you nice and fat," his other hand finally meets her side, cold so it makes her jump again. "want me to do it right now? couldn't hurt to try, right? it's a myth you know, not being able to get pregnant on your period."
"roman," it's a half hearted warning at best, but he keeps going. he always keeps going, he doesn't know when to stop.
"can't tell me you're getting shy on me now," he's adjusted his grip, both of his hands are on the meat of her hips, thumbs sweeping along her back and digging in with whatever pressure isn't making her outright cry. the muscles of her back are tenser than he's felt before but still he pushes and pushes.
"ah- wait - ow- " and she nearly crumples and he grins when he catches her, getting himself soaked in the process.
"that was a hell of a knot. what do you have to be so stressed over, huh? live in a - god you're light - place that you don't pay a fuckin' dime for and you're wound up tighter than-"
"stop just for two seconds, please, god, stop," one of her wet hands reaches and covers his mouth which makes him laugh. it doesn't really work in her favor, it never does, not when he starts making out with her fingers in earnest. god you're so weird, she thinks, pulling her hand away with a twisted smile that she regrets.
she can't help it when it comes to him.
"gonna have to pick one though," he bites at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, only pulling away when he knows the indentation of his teeth will stay. his hand which sits on her waist to steady her from her earlier near-collapse slides over her abdomen and his fingers spread. "either i put a baby in you, or i get rid of it."
his hand slips lower, over the swell of her abdomen to the spot above her uterus. "or, hear me out, third option, i put the baby in you and then we take this bitch out with our kid. the fuck is it that your friend says? one and done?"
he presses (digs) his fingers against the spot and she whimpers, it hurts, god it hurts, but the sigh of relief that leaves her when he finally lets up the pressure is enough to have made it worth it. the steam and the pain and now his goading really warps her brain into something fuzzy and her ability to focus on anything other than staying upright vanishes.
so he does it again to hear that pathetic noise leave her mouth, the one that brings weak knees and reliance on him. and a third time and until he sees the red start again in the shower.
"you're bleeding on my pants, you know," he snarks, though honestly he doesn't care. watching her brow pull together while he soothes (causes) another ache.
"you're, hmn, in the shower with me still dr-ressed, that's - ow, your fault."
"mm, i think it's your fault for not letting me put a baby in you," he mumbles it to himself. his hand finally draws away from between her legs and he runs it over her back a few times. "come on, out, out, dry off while i change out of your filth."
--
the following few days, he hadn't interrupted any of her other showers or bothered her about how she was feeling, no more than normal anyway, but when she stretches with her hands on her lower back with a quiet pain sigh, he zeroes in on it.
he didn't really forget either, but he was letting it slide.
now he couldn't. not while the reminder was directly in front of him like that.
"come heeeeere," roman's voice is honey in her ears and if she had any strength to be suspicious, she would have asked why before just moving to sit between his spread legs. he untucks her shirt haphazardly, exposing the expanse of her back to run his hands along her spine. "relax."
he's not bad at using his hands. his thumbs in the right spots to work out knots, he pulls away when she winces, telling her to 'suck it up' quietly. she lets him get away with it since his hands dont stop.
it's not long before her head starts to dip, she's falling asleep.
It would be so easy now, too.
the knives in the kitchen would be sharp enough, and clean. he paid people for those exact reasons, to keep the kitchen and cutlery in pristine condition. scalpels weren't serrated so surely a paring knife... no, probably not sharp enough.
the deboning knife would probably work. roman laughed. yeah, he would be fileting her in a way wouldn't he be?
one long slice along the front of her stomach to split her open. the blood spilling and staining his sleeves, the couch and carpet beneath them. fabric can be replaced, but getting to learn the way she feels from the inside, in a way nobody else gets to? maybe even feel her heart beat against the tips of his fingers.
it was almost too much to think about with her body curled over in front of him, arms crossed on her legs as he did his absolute best to keep up his work on her back.
still, his mind spun. intestines pulled away from that tiny organ that caused her so much pain every month and it would just be a few ties - easy, he could tie a knot to kill off a blood supply - and some snips and he could just. yank it out. toss it out with the coffee grinds, really.
what's more of an intimate way to solve a problem than being the guiding hands himself?
rest of her organs and insides fit herself back inside that pocket of her form, skin tugged close and lovingly sewn back together he'd watch a youtube tutorial to learn how of course. none of this would be blind. he wanted this to go well, wanted to help, craved the thanks he'd surely get in return for it, because this is what she needed. regardless of if she realized it or not
Fluff? I don't know, a bit Angsty right off the bat ig.
This is my submission for the second of our discords bi-weekly writing challenge. Prompt: Character A drags Character B outside to build a snowman.
Who would believe that cold could hurt as much as the wind was now hurting him? Biting away at his skin and bruising it red. Moblit lifted his trembling hands to his lips in a desperate attempt to keep warm, at least regain the mobility of his joints so he could get out of here, assuming his gear still worked.
Beneath him were the bodies of fallen friends and comrades, spread out upon the icy wasteland that in the summers had brought comfort to many of their troops.
Now the fields where they would so often relax whispered to him a promise of death, nothing could survive this biting tundra.
Hange, his hange had already-
“Berner!” at least he was still there, they would figure this out under his command, he was sure. Moblit had long ago put his life in the hands of Erwin Smith.
He turned to face the voice of his commander, not hearing or seeing what had snuck up on him, now reaching out as he took the first step in Erwins direction.
“No! No let go! Stop!” The much too fragile human body was easily crushed, if only it wouldn't hurt so much. If humans were meant to die, then why had god forsaken them by giving them the ability to feel hurt? The gear that had for years helped the survival of the troops was now tightening around the man's body, squeezing his breath and his life out of him. It felt like the world stood still, holding him in a moment of forever to make sure he could experience it all. Yet it happened so fast, before he could even register it, he had lost his footing and found himself crashing, struggling, aching. Despite the pain however, there was no sound of a scream coming from the man, the cold only made it worse.
“I'm sorry! Sorry Moblit!” his shirt soaked in the icy water he had formerly stood upon, their body laid upon his, weighing him down into the hellish cold. “It's alright, Hange” his voice was a muffled mumble against the wet ground, for he hadn't even lifted his head.
“Put these on” footsteps had approached them, steady even upon the slippery disco-floor of hell. Levi had tossed something their way, chains, no- more like claws for their shoes, seemed the device was working well, for the short man soon after ran across the ice, not even slipping in the slightest as he moved from comrade to comrade in order to supply them with this gift to fight god's nature.
Finally back on their feet, the ever-apologising Hange would help Moblit with the gear that yet laid too tight around his body. Their hands, even though also undoubtedly freezing, felt so warm against his wet shirt.
It took them a moment to gain their balance even with the gear given to them by Levi, but slowly they managed to together make their way over to where Erwin and Miche were waiting for them. Immediately they had been offered a warm drink by the tall man, both warm and spicy, the heated wine was quick to warm them up from the inside and out. “Moblit” a woman's voice reached his red ears “your shirt is frozen stiff” she was right, and as her voice burst into laughter Moblit would take the time to assess the damage. His laughter however joined hers, when Hange reached to touch his frozen garment, and it let out a loud crispy crunch. “Good god”
The light-haired man enjoyed the good company of friends. Miche behind them with a fire was again and again stirring the pot of mulled wine. Erwin, now together with Eld and Armin were going over some papers that would surely aid them in their upcoming task. Life rarely felt good, but for once in his, he had a smile on his face, and a resting heart rate.
The calm beatings of his heart only lasted so long however, for as Gelgar had gone to grab himself another beverage, a loud thud had been heard from across the sea of ice. “Eren!” Hange called out for the large creature that had thrown a large boulder of snow down to the ground. “Thank you!”
Yet again looking over to Erwin, Moblit found himself wondering how they had even gotten here. “I'm not sure this is an appropriate use of our-” he had started, but he was soon interrupted by Hange's voice once more swimming through his now warm ears. “Strike a pose for us!”
Erwin was smiling, standing over the drawings showing the general idea of this snowy endeavour and the groupings assigned, Erwin smiled- Was he sick?
As the human-driven titan struck a pose, a soldier whose name slipped Moblit`s mind was given the paper and coal to begin sketching the figure. As the blond soldier sat to draw, other soldiers would be assigned jobs and positions by the three plan-makers, and before anyone could even begin to doubt this as Moblit had, the Snow-Titan building project was in full swing.
Squad Levi had taken upon themselves the job of guiding Eren to bring in more snow without accidentally burying any of the soldiers who with the help of their ODM gear had begun carving the creature into the snow, using both water and torches to help it settle.
This life-sized titan made out of snow had been Hange's idea, suggested to Erwin under the guise that it would boost morale and also help Jaeger take control over his abilities, perhaps they had been right?
Too cold to participate, Moblit remained by Miche’s booth, enjoying another cup of warmth. Hange had flown off some time ago, but he could no longer see them amongst the laughing joyful friends of theirs. Even those who fell meters down into the cold snow still helped bring laughter to the earth, kicking legs struggling with getting back up instead of out of a titans grip.
“Did you say something?” The question was from Moblit, aimed at the two men he was standing by, however, both Miche and Gelgar shook their heads, and even Nanaba who had just arrived to steal some of Miches body heat denied this accusation.
The answer came to him in the shape of a cold ball to the back of his head. As he turned around he finally laid eyes upon Hange again, now kneeling over with laughter. “Oh yeah?” he ran, ran towards his friend and threw himself at them so they both tumbled to the ground. Once atop of them, he had filled his hands with the soft snow and pushed it into their face. “Got you” their laughter only made his smile wider. “No.. got you” they replied with a cunning smile, before pushing a fist of snow up in his face in return.
As the man released them from his grip in order to remove the cold from him, they grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in close. Their breath and lips against his cheek burned like a pleasant fire. “I like seeing you smile, Moblit”
I like how people write Jayce taking care of Viktor, like reminding him to eat, sleep, drink water, or smth like Jayce isn't the type to forget to do all of those things because he forgot that it is a necessity not an option.
Jayce would be the person to hear his stomach growl, practically screaming with hunger but be too caught up with some invention or equation or smth and then when he's suddenly aware that damn its 5 in the morning he should probably go home he passes out in the hallway.
. . here you were, dove white bedsheets pooled around you, as fat, crystalline tears rolled down your face, an ugly reminder of what you had become.
or, a small fanfic based on boynextdoor’s album: why..
// tws ; none!! :3 ; gn reader ; modern au
a/n: stan boynextdoor guys
𝟭. 𝗖𝗥𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚
between umbrellas on a rainy strеet
your words broke thrоugh even thе ѕound of rаin, goodbye
i јust shut mу mоuth
i pretend not to hear agaіn
sobs wracked your body.
it’s okay. you’re okay , you thought to yourself, rocking your body back and forth, face buried in your knees.
the lies kept increasing.
lies towards yourself, towards him, towards anyone and everything.
you were fine , you told yourself.
as if.
here you were, dove white bedsheets pooled around you, as fat, crystalline tears rolled down your face, an ugly reminder of what you had become.
of what you had become ever since he left you.
a crying mess.
even the way he had broken up with you reflected the situation — rain pouring down, thumping over your roof as he stood there, umbrella in hand. his jet-black bangs were plastered to his face, wet, as if he had left without an umbrella originally.
your eyes had a joyful gleam as you beamed at him, crinkles at the corners of your eyes a mirror of your happiness.
until he shattered it, alongside your heart, of course.
it was like he had been cradling your fragile, glass heart, taking care of it, protecting it, until he decided to throw it full-force at the ground.
“i have to tell you something,” he had said, cold eyes analyzing you, examining your very being.
thinking nothing of it, you had asked what. he dropped your glass heart as he spoke his next words.
“i want to break up.”
and, so, you were here, crying like a baby.
a fucking baby.
you had thrown away the jacket you had worn when you had asked him out, trying to look your very best.
you wanted to look like an adult, mature and collected, coming to terms with any ups and downs life had to offer.
but, as it turned out, you were still a kid inside. ever so sensitive — fragile and delicate, able to break apart at any moment.
this was so, so much more cruel than any mean words he could speak to you. saying he loved you, whispering sweet nothings, and then dropping the bomb on you? saying he never loved you?
saying everything was meaningless to him?
you had gone to a cafe a few days prior, and what you saw made your heart crack all over again.
he was there, sitting alongside his friends.
worst thing?
he was smiling.
he was fucking smiling.
after what he did to you, he had the audacity to laugh, to smile?
it hurt so, so much, watching him smile, watching him laugh, knowing it would never be you making him do so ever again.
it made you hurt.
it made you hurt.
it made you sick.
and, so, you laid on your bed, crying like a baby.
crying like a baby.
i’m crying for you, baby.
𝟮. 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗦
but you —
heard your mascara's running from crying everyday
kicking yourself now
i never felt better
he had said he didn’t like you swearing.
that you were too delicate, too innocent to.
even when you were angry, you couldn’t fucking swear, wanting to keep the love of your life, the bane of your existence, happy.
you had widened your shoulders when he needed to lean on them.
it only caused trouble for you now when you went upon the crowded metro, bodies pressed up against you.
you wanted to swear.
swear at him.
yourself.
everyone.
every-fucking-thing.
you swore dan heng wouldn’t ever regret it.
you were the fool.
the goddamn fool.
it would’ve been better if he had just said he didn’t love you.
why did he lead you on, saying he loved you if he was just going to break your heart, leaving it hollow?
now you wanted to rip up all the polaroids of him you had kept.
his appearance in the photos was the same — soft, ethereal.
beautiful.
the appearance of someone you had once loved.
of someone you still loved.
it was nothing like the cold and hard exterior he had worn when he broke up with you.
sometimes you just wanted him to get lost, wishing him heartbreak and bad wishes, wishing for him to suffer as you did.
but sometimes, you missed him.
—
you were used and useless now.
now, you wanted to change all your mannerisms — the way you did your makeup, the way you laughed, even the way you walked.
it all reminded you of dan heng.
and that memory stemmed on and on, and lead to another night of you crying in your room, mascara tainting your face, smudging it an inky black.
—
sure, he wasn’t the mean one.
your friends said that he was being reasonable, that he was so mature about the situation, not even putting any blame on you! you were crying for no reason at all, he could’ve ended things on a much, much worse note.
yeah, sure.
yes, you were the mean one! you were the one mad at him, sad over him, because of absolutely nothing! it wasn’t like he was the one who broke up with you!
ugh.
give me a break.
—
late at night, you were curled up in your bed, the excruciatingly bright screen of your phone illuminating your tired eyes and dried up tears.
your finger hovered over the button to delete his number.
you couldn’t even do a task as simple as that.
you were such a fool. you still loved him, even though he had already broken up with you?
pathetic.
—
yeah, this was better.
swearing to get it all out, to get all the red, hot anger off your chest, off yourself.
previously pinpointed on yourself, now you found a new target to direct it all to, to shift the blame to.
dan fucking heng.
previously, you had been sobbing in your room after he had broken up with you, sobs wracking your body as if you were a mere petal in a storm, drifting all alone.
the sorrow had eventually melted, leaving an omnipresent hatred in its wake.
but, if you despised him so much, why did you immediately soften up upon looking at photos you took of him?
he still looked so sweet in the photos, jet black bangs dusting his face, the tiniest smile on his face as he held up a peace sign.
maybe you should just rip up all the photos.
yeah.
—
life wasn’t too bad as of late.
you had been hanging out with new friends, and that took your mind off everything.
maybe you had finally moved on?
yet, you still felt a tinge of hatred towards dan heng, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong as you had come to realize.
you had heard he’d been kicking himself over the break up, crying everyday. you should’ve felt bad.
yet you felt the smallest twinge of happiness upon hearing this.
you could’ve — would’ve — died for him, yet it took him til now to realize what he had missed.
to realize what he had done?
why’d it take him til now? why was he so selfish?
he could’ve just not loved you from the beginning.
huh, maybe you hadn’t moved on yet.
sometimes, you still missed him.
𝟯. 𝗔𝗕𝗖𝗗𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘
a-b-c-d-e-f-g, right?
it’s still awkwаrd, will i gеt used to it?
give me back my a-b-с-d-l-o-v-e,
or draw a nеw lоve
an easy word you could memorize — love.
soft and delicate love, strong as titanium, yet fragile as glass.
but, well, you didn’t know love anymore.
the love you had known had changed.
it had broken into a million tiny bits, leaving behind shards of shattered glass, cutting you and making you bleed scarlet the moment you tried to pick up the broken pieces.
now you practically had to learn the meaning of love all over again.
everything had changed, now it was all inverted. bright, almost blindingly so, yellow shades of happiness and warmth had become depressing, melancholic blues.
dainty pink had becoming a forever burning inferno of red.
dan heng had been the moons and stars, your whole universe.
and, just like that, he had disappeared.
stormy black clouds had covered the glittering skies, leaving only darkness in their wake.
he had told you he had loved you.
you wanted that same love back.
or, perhaps, now you could draw a new love.
—
it was so, so awkward now.
you could barley get any words out around him.
he, who was spring and summer.
he, who left, leaving a cold and barren winter with you.
now who would alight your freezing heart ablaze?
—
it was still so, so awkward.
would you ever get used to it?
well, perhaps you would, you supposed.
if you could draw a brand new love for yourself, rewrite the meaning of it from scratch, you could get used to this too, no?
