a star, a nightmare and the night of my life | adopted by heathers fic
  • Reads 648
  • Votes 4
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 52m
  • Reads 648
  • Votes 4
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 52m
Ongoing, First published Dec 03, 2023
violet elizabeth iverson, 13, a girl with a relatively simple dream: to not die at the hands of her abusive, drunkard father. fortunately, this wish is granted when a simple stumble on the streets of new york leads her to the best event of her life: meeting the off-broadway cast of heathers, a bunch of broadway stars who more or less saved this 13 year old girl.
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this story will contain some major trigger warnings, such as substance abuse, child abuse, child neglect, self harm and eating disorders. if there is any more i have forgot to mention, please let me know. if you think reading this might trigger something for you, please do not! self love is important yall.
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this is a work of fiction. fiction. this is certainly not what the off-broadway heathers cast acts like in real life, and violet is not a real person. this story never actually happened. it is fictional. if you're apart of the original off-broadway heathers cast, please don't read this. ily but don't read it.
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this description is written without caps for the aesthetic. i got the english honours prize; i know how to use grammar! anyway, enjoy!
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DIABOLIC SERIES 3 All my life I've lost my breath. It would happen over the simplest things, if I stretched too high to catch a ball, lifted something for too long, if I sneezed, if I talked. Other times I would loose my breath because I had a panic attack, or was yelling or being yelled at, if I was exerting myself on a physical level. Having the wind knocked out of me is a familiar feeling. But I didn't truly know what it felt like to loose the air in my lungs, loose the feeling that has kept my alive my entire life. I didn't loose it when I fell in love, I didn't loose it when I found out one drunken night with the girl I love would mean a baby, I didn't loose it when I found out that I'd actually be a father. No, I lost that when she told me that she doesn't love me. When she spit in my face how much she can't stand me, how I've ruined her life, that she doesn't want me in any aspect. I'm not her 'type' whatever that means, seeing as she quite willingly had sex with me. Her saying this made this ugly, lonely and depressing thought hit my diaphragm. Violet Thompson is carrying my child. And she despises me for it. The way I came to this conclusion was simple, Nonnie- -that's what I call her, since her middle name's Noel and I wanted something to call her that if I shouted it in the middle of a crowd, only she would turn to and know it's me- -told me that all she wants is someone there. A father for her baby, a physical presence. Not a mind, personality. Not a person. A body. A shell. I've been a dead man walking. And I was that shell, was just a body... until I found him.
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