Bonding Through Trauma
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Contenido adultoContinúa1h 47m
Última publicación mié, ene 29, 2025
Working at Vought could be a high risk, high reward job.
Everyone knew that.
I thought I was free from it as a simple coffee runner for the building, especially after managing to avoid any of The Seven for my years of employment.
Then the invitation came through, a trial miracle pill that'd at least ease some of my insecurities.
But of course that would come at a price beyond mere side effects, some that lead directly into the path of the most intimidating (and debatably most unstable) member of The Seven.
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Echo of the Past
A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.Concluida
Loving The Russian Mafia
"You have a choice either choose me or being a mafia" I added hoping that he'll come back with me and if not then I will be the one leaving him this time. He suddenly started laughing loudly confusing me. "Oh god you are so innocent sweetheart do you honestly think that I have brought you here just to let you go...do you think going away from me is so easy, do you really think that I'll ever let that happen" he said controlling his laughter for a while but again started laughing. "You can't keep me with you without my wish" I whispered feeling all my confidence gone suddenly. "You'll be staying with me love with or without your wish" he replied coming closer his lips touching my ear, before walking out leaving me all alone. **** Ryan Knight and Vienna Green both were high school sweethearts, they were deeply in Love with eachother. But one incident changed their life and parted them away from eachother. But destiny had some other plans and they both met again but Ryan is now the most feared and powerful mafia of Russia. And after knowing this, all Vienna wants to do is run away from him. But what she doesn't know is that Ryan won't let her go this time, not again. **** Book 3 in Loving series. It can be read as a stand alone book. Cover by @EndlessHeights-Concluida
Toxic||COMPLETED
COMPLETED!! ⚠️ Cliché alert ⚠️Mature content Jesus you probably don't want to read it because it's cliché and your typical wattpad story but you can still give it a shot! Yeah? Please?? Okay I will stop... I wil still edit from time to time don't worry too much ! * * * "Well?" He asked impatiently. "No I don't want to be your girlfriend" I said casually like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Why?" He asked angrily . "Simple, because boys are jerks".Concluida
Full Throttle
I've made it out of that nightmare I used to call home. The last person my parents had entrusted with my safety was a lie. The man I was being married off too turned out to be a ruthless monster. Escape was my only choice if I was going to come out alive. Now, I'm hundreds of miles away from the only home I knew. Living in a car, scraping by. Enduring what I was afraid of to begin with. A rich girl like me was not meant for the streets. But I'll be damned if they drag me down. If it means survival from here on out to keep me away from the hands of my own family so be it. But the universe seemed to have a different plan for me. One with three men, 3 bikes and a load of baggage they are not ready to deal with. Protecting myself is a priority, especially with the life that is growing inside of me. Distance is key, survival is crucial and staying the hell away from these men is detrimental. They've got no idea the hell that is me, Juniper Vanderbilt.
When Darkeness Breathes...(Contest)
How can I explain what has happened? How a lifetime of pain and disability was far more sinister and darke than even I could have imagined? I am only now discovering the truth, and I will share it with you, page by page from my journal. Do you have the courage to uncover the truth? Will you make it to the end with me? Lets see... (This story is dedicated to everyone who has ever felt different or misunderstood. We are all equal♡) This is the condensed version for the #TNTHorrorContenst entry.Concluida
X & Y ✓
Kith never thought that her senior year of high school would be spent in a frat house, especially the frat house of her ex-best friend's, douchey, irresponsible older brother, Cameron. She'd fantasized about going to college since middle school, but not like this, not this early. She'd never planned on doing homework in a lounge that reeked of testosterone and beer while her new roommate partied until the stars went to sleep. Kith had never intended to be the source of drama in two very different schools either. Her senior year was supposed to consist of: hanging out with friends, doing tedious assignments, having a snowball fight during Winter Break, tanning during Spring Break, and rounding off her high school career with a creatively themed Prom. But none of that mattered; her plans didn't mean anything anymore. The phrase 'supposed to' was now an afterthought. Because things had gotten a little screwed up on the way to graduation. Deals with Mature Themes such as mentions of rape. Warning will be given beforehand.Concluida
Scarred Bloods (#2 Confused Cliche Love Series)
Blaze; the boyish but seductive daughter of Reese and Francisco Capone. She was a partyer, and not only did she love to party on the floor but she always loved it in bed, and she also would love to punch Jay Brenalds in the face. The only reason why she knew him and had to be in his presence almost every day was because he and her older brother, Mayne, had been best friends since they were infants. The man truly annoyed her, and it didn't help that he was two years older than her so he felt he had some type of 'authority'. Even though he was 21 and she was only 19 she could still put him in the hospital. But it was fine; she had Brooke, his cousin and her best friend, to help keep him in check. Jay was an only child; his make believe brother just happened to be his best friend, Mayne. The two were like two peas in a pod, inseparable, especially during a mission. Jay's Dad worked for Mayne's parent's organization as a tracker often and that allowed him and Mayne to work as assassins. They helped kill the worst of the criminals for the government and got paid for it. It was easy money. Blaze was completely content with being oblivious of their double life but of course she just had to get thrown in it. All she wanted to do was get some fried chicken from Mr. Brenalds; instead she ends up seeing Mayne slit someone's neck while Jay snapped another's. If that doesn't make you lose your appetite... ~ "Jay, if you touch my fucking boob I will cut your hand off." I threatened, staring at the body part with a very life-threatening glare. Jay thought over it for a minute, his eyes moving from his hand to my breasts multiple times. His hand then moved forward and grabbed my boob. I stared up at him in shock, and my anger was just rising as time went by. I was going to kill him. "That is why I was born with two, Blaze." Cover by @EveninglatteConcluida
The Boys: Beyond
At Vought, we have proudly cherished and championed our vision of nurturing future superheroes at Godolkin University since 1965! The place where true superheroes are born, from A-Train and Maeve, perhaps you could also be a part of The Seven. Be amongst the greats that came before you, from Soldierboy to Homelander. Remember, if you hear someone spread misinformation about God U, say something, because after all, what kind of Super do you want to be? Meet Rowan. He's neither good nor bad. He's trying to find his place in a world of corruption, lies, and deceit. Where's the best place to find his identity in times of upheaval? I think you know, at God U. Vought International proudly sponsors us.
EVE (Homelander)
INTERVIEW #001 - Dr. Leslie Grant, Developmental Psychologist Position: Child Behavior Analyst - Years 1 to 10 "When they were little, it was... kind of beautiful, actually. Two kids who'd never had anyone before, finding each other in the middle of a sterile lab? You'd see them curled up reading picture books, sharing food, laughing like normal kids. For a while, we really believed it was working. She grounded him. She'd calm his tantrums with a hug, a whisper. But now I think-" (Pauses) "Now I think she learned early that if she didn't soothe him, we'd all pay for it. That kind of conditioning-" (Shakes head) "It doesn't go away."
6 months to live
It all started my sophomore year of high school. The first symptom that struck me was the constant headaches. I was easy to brush it off since I had been overwhelmed with before and after school activities. More activities meant more coffee to poison the pain of maintaining my reputation. "It's the stress," I would constantly tell myself. Then it was the small fragments of my memory that kept being stolen away from me. Bits by bits, they would slowly vanish leaving me demented. I though I was going crazy because I couldn't remember simple things like where I lived. It never occurred to me that I would only have 6 months left to live.Concluida
A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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