#newt grundy

[newt-grundy]

Yishay Mercy 12:08 AM (57 minutes ago) to me milk is a teething baby and newt is a grumpy ol man and neither will respond well to the other ones softness so goodbye milk, sighs newt and goodnight newt, sighs milk

Newt Grundy 12:47 AM (18 minutes ago)

to Yishay how bout milk manipulated, punished and abused newt, then left him in the desert to die, and in an attempt to cover her misdeeds, lied about newt to everyone enforcing mass social hate against newt. Newt was left with next to nothing in an envirmoment of hard drugs, picked up meth, and almost fucking died a few times, so now yes he's a grumpy old man, a grumpy old bitter spiteful man who doesn't trust anyone including those who he loves most because newt is discarded trash to everyone. But despite this; this little boy will work against the grain, and will someday make a name for himself, this time not for milk, but for himself, and unless milk can somehow develope the ability of self awareness, to her manic depressive state that needs serious attention, and properly apologize for what she has done to the man she claimed to love, he doesn't want her in his life, unless to to properly act out his own justified revenge, whether it be poems, or fucking emails, because the hate in his heart is unrelenting, a swelling storm throughout each day, which source traces back to the once nice milk, who'd look up at him adoringly, in the iowa city apartment, before everything was fucked, and newt made the life changing choice to leave his life to fullfill hers, because he thought that would be enough for milk. 

Newt Grundy  12:47 AM (17 minutes ago) to Yishay In other words, romantize all you want, my head is clear and rooted in reality and I'm not letting you make me think different

.Newt Grundy  12:48 AM (16 minutes ago) to Yishay Unless you have an apology, please, do not contact me. don't want to hear about your hurt, until you've apologized for the hurt you've caused me, which I know you're too damn prideful to do. So yes, goodbye milk. Goodbye Jesse.

[newt--x]

Unrelated since she left seasons ago, but Geraldine Grundy/Jennifer Gibson can choke

[sugar-cube-person]

Masterlist

GOTHAM:

Jim Gordon

Oswald Cobblepot

Jerome Valeska

Jeremiah Valeska

Edward Nygma

Jervis Tetch

Victor Zasz

Victor Zsasz x Fem!reader PT1

Butch Gilzean/Cyrus Gold/Solomon Grundy

Butch Gilzean x Gn!reader

MARVEL:

Loki

Thor 

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Stephen Strange

Bruce Banner 

Peter Parker (Tom, Andrew, and Toby)

ONCE UPON A TIME:

Killian Jones

Gideon Gold

Peter Pan 

Henry Mills

DISNEY CHANNEL:

Luke Ross 

Ravi Ross

P.J. Duncan

Gabe Duncan

Joey Rooney

Parker Rooney

STAR WARS:

Luke Skywalker

Anakin Skywalker

Han Solo

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

THE MAZE RUNNER:

Thomas

Newt

Gally

Frypan

WE’RE THE MILLERS:

Kenny Miller

David Miller

HARRY POTTER:

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Blaise Zabini

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Sirius Black (old or young)

James Potter (young)

Remus Lupin (old or young)

GRIMM:

Nick Burkhardt 

Sean Renard

Monroe

Hank Griffin

Drew Wu

CRIMINAL MINDS:

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner 

Derek Morgan

GHOSTBUSTERS:

Ray Stantz

Egon Spengler

Winston Zeddemore

Peter Venkman  

RULES:

I will NOT be writing ANY smut since I do not feel comfortable with that, when requesting please be specific or I will improvise and I think that defeats the purpose lol, anyways enjoy and have fun, I can’t wait to hear your requests!

EXTRA:

You can request from other fandoms too and if I don’t know which fandom it is I will definitely try it out and write for it :)

[tussive]

Sry for the spam. Was looking for those newt grundy poems and found a bunch of old posts that deserved more attention than they got.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

My Riverdale @ Hogwarts Headcannon

-So, obvi, Betty’s a puff. 

-Archie’s a Gryffindor. 

-Veronica’s a puff, too (she’s loyal, honest, and doesn’t particularly embody the qualities of the other houses, but she could totes be a Slyth, I geddit, jeez, calm your shit.) 

-Jughead’s prolly a Ravenclaw. 

-Let’s be real here, Cheryl’s a Slyth, Jason’s a Slyth, the Blossoms are Pureblood a-holes and Cheryl and Jason are both sitting and looking at their parents like “wtf, dude?!” 

-Kev’s tricky... fuck it, let’s make him a Puff, too, for being honest, caring, headstrong, and there to lend the kiddos a helping hand while also going off to be gay with his boyfriend because they’re smols. 

-Side note, not a headcannon, it’s just my hair is getting all glowy in this light and it makes me smug- 

-Polly will be in Gryffindor for the sake of the whole “star-crossed-lovers” Romeo-and-Juliet style. 

-Betty and Jughead are writing the school newspaper. They are an Epic Dream Team with Matching Patronuses who smell each other in the Amortentia and are really cute and adorable and fuck it, they’ll get married straight outta Hogwarts, won’t they? 

-So, the Grundy thing DID NOT HAPPEN, FUCKING FIGHT ME, MCGONAGALL WOULD BE SUPER SUSPICIOUS OF HER. 

-My children are all safe from the evil that is Clifford Blossom AKA The Actual Worst. 

-Polly gets “sent away to Beauxbatons for a semester as part of her NEWTs course.” 

-(They make sure she does the classes by mail so she’s all caught up.) 

-The only one of the RD5 who wasn’t in Slytherin was Fred and maybe FP. 

-The football kids in the show are the Quidditch players. 

-Cheryl still has like, zero friends, and she’s sad. 

-Like, the gang occasionally takes pity on her.

-Poor Cheryl. 

-Poor Jughead.

-They don’t hang out at Pop’s, they hang out in the Kitchens or the Three Broomsticks.

[tomgilsenan]

Events during April 2017 at Uptown Bill's Coffee House: 1) Diego Davidenko playing at the coffee house (Now living in Los Angeles, he stopped while on a US tour). 2) Guests on a live television broadcast of Tom's Guitar Show. 3) Ukester Brown presenting a ukuele workshop on a Saturday afternoon. A concert followed. . 4) RiverRun organizers distributing runner packets. A pasta supper followed. 5) Newt Grundy performing at Open Mic. 6) Aly Jayne from Milwaukee singing at Uptown Bill's Live

[newt-grundy]

Dead man rippled his foreskin in folds dripple and corset for mid drift sepid, tight, tunicate to unglue my match stick.

Dime groove roll, tip the bucket of grey sauce, a move so bold, as to tell him to fuck off.

Hector the specter flew and drank necter, but Hector the lover never could muster the strength of another who fucks other specters whom resemble his mother.

I’m bitter edged ankle biter, I miss my smooth milk water. I played the role of father, my son is dead in the gutter.

[newt-grundy]

Every day I swallow barbed fingers like the memory of none. Her lips in shower steam graze the edges of my thumb. Forceps clip the surface of the bubbles on my tongue. And dying graces are easy pink bastard, empty gun.

I can’t go on another day, not another hallow, meaningless sprite to snap back my elbow. Nostalgic lullabies of her voice in my vicissitude, cast me out gone and over water shallow.

Love betrays.

Love destroys, hate creates. Inspired by the wire that hangs me by my feet. I want this sweet death to come and take me, back to the bottom of the forbidden creek.

Bloodied sand on my face, and dirt in the seams. Wound infected with ridicule, fest in the heat. Time the jest, grotesque, beaten and bloodied, lacking of the fluid to drain the cyst, brutalized. Earlobe sawn to bits like grits to the pits, I realize, the time is rest, her soft coconut breast,(now verbalize) while all the while broken and bathing in piss, she passes them to the spring, without even a glance.

Men tied down by tents and set ablaze, a mere couple blocks where you get your pastries glazed. Not an eyebrow raised for the murder of man without wealth. And you won’t see his face stickered on a Walmart shelf. Pan handlers, sulk back to camp pockets empty, stomachs reversing, children go hungry. DT’s in the morning, with nothing to vomit. Faces sunk in cartoonish, like Wallace and Gromit. Patches on track marks, begging on the sidewalk, ratted out by the cashier, cop tells em to get lost. Tryna get a smoke so they fuckin see straight, and find their way back before it’s much too late.

Pull the blinds on the lives that are soon to die. Unemployed dehumanized, value nullified. Take to the tracks to live by the spike, a fury to flee these thoughts of suicide.

Love betrays

Love destroys, hate creates. Inspired by the wire that hangs me by my feet. I want this sweet death to come and take me, back to the bottom of the forbidden creek.

[newt-grundy]

Sticky as the smudge on the bottom of the serpent. Her plastic excrement, ask my pointer for the whole story. Right lick, just beneath the nose, foiled myself lay back like trebuchet. I caught herself at the last second, reaching forth her hand would dampen. I lobbed to her chest, a wet napkin, and told her to not forsake the crevice. I front up eggnogs and omit weakness, because this women was my omen. My tales on desktop, arthritis creped, right to arms of men with horrid, faces beauty, yet distorted, spaces easy, lines contorted.

Walk like Ti-Chi, foot goes backward, favorite student, fucks Grundy bastard. Eye of the sky, light of the clouds, terror of the fountains, takes them in a vow. Holds my seed with grievance, condoms a cute orgasm. Said he was the opposing color, but what’s he say, when I ask him. I’ve heard he’s made his way to town, my name fell forth from his cracked lips. I want to crack his unjust crown, and lay him to bed, in concrete piss. I’ll thieve his bride, and march inside, storming with my boots of late. Hold his mouth just to the south, where I gape her ringed wraith. The ghost I fuck, I’ve made a muck, but she is mine for the take, and both will die I promise lies, to make amends with languish fate.

Two heads underwater, can’t exchange breath forever. My simple solutions are convoluted in execution. I’m brought forth to court, love grants suspicion. Caught pink handed, hateful infatuation. All things done in the name of closure, close a door on fruit flooring places. The summer rots your brain with braids twisted and angry in their own fusion. Children are naked in mud water, only fathers but yet drunk fathers. Boys alone, they say he’s a try hard, since he went and fed girl never after.

You’d be dead if wasn’t for me, bitch.

My hands on your back when you said, itch.

The sigil of man rise the hex, witch.

I could never hate but I’m jaded as fuck.

The flies drink the droplets that held to your cunt.

Wilberts alive, but he’s still a runt.

And now he craves, his vengeance trough buckets

[newt-grundy]

Up in the Grundy sphere, call me MC dirty pink

when I cut my nails, I get blood in the sink

Abandon all hope, there ain’t no king of the meek

Self-harm erect, hide that shit from my shrink

The world ruled by the strong, who come down on the weak

Who beg on the ground with, shit on their knees

Grateful for the moment just to kiss his feet

Take it in the back; no one cares if you bleed

Fingers and wires tied to make a wreath

The one and only crown that’s fit for a king

Bones in his throat, and grit in his teeth

Pick it out and flick it for the poor to feed

There ain’t no hope in this world, just look at me

The shining example of the lone MC

Living for the purpose of no purpose to see

Dying by the day, dead by the end of the week

Left his message for deaf, who don’t bother to think

Murder in his heart eatin him up inside

Pleading for a farce, to put an end to his life

Demap this boy, his stinkin up the joint

Left his message for deaf, who don’t care if his dies

[newt-grundy]

Co-enabled self-destruction, cards on the table, rupture my gumption, sand in my navel. Tears the wall apart for firewood, hands cut covered soot. If it’s green, don’t matter, pull it up by the root. Too many dogs in the kitchen, too many crooks contemplating, strollin wide circles, now what the fuck else will go missing? Palms flat to the fire, slap the bag then pass it. Coon hide knife hilt, just lick it and stick it. Captain eats first, then women and children, and yes don’t ask, of course that means kitten, and no, dumbass keep your fingers from pickin. Everyone eats, then rum and black eyes, every night.

If I see your square jaw, thin faced straight line, surly smile round here one more time, it’ll be murder, like that of a muffin in the oven, fell apart chips blazed, burnt hair of the infant. I can fly my arms in tight knit circles, tooth floss needle, pack rat worship. Your cloud stink, narcissist mildew, pads the air with the gunk, syphon from tissue. Gat tackle boy with a smirk on his dick, with a rich picket fence, smell the roses of shit. In fact you’ll never forget, your headspace thought bubble popped to a drop, rolling off your eyeball, I’m ditchin the lot. Like a kid with a board, I’ll put wheels to your ears, smack your lobe, get rode, I practice for years. Cut your knee inverted, snuff jackets pillow curbin, with a turban of flesh, damp on your black heads, urban. I sleep better rather next to my bed, spinal fluid loosely drooped with the sigil of hex, carved in my wrist with a box blade dot painted to spec, meth drop jaw lock, fuck the hole in your head.

pat my pocket buddy time to do what I said.

How come you gotta manifest a drone for me to flash my ass and chest. Baboons beat red and frothing at the mouth, pulling on twisted labia, match point, tug of war. Slum lord he makes you, ape shit he claims you. Rusted bucket wench he leaves you to dust. Cum warp. he bathes you, tight ship he frames you, kettle uncle finger clamp, enough is enough. Your eyes fall to the patter of overpriced shoes, you have failed to notice me despite my eyes locked on you. You gotta invisible chain and it weighs your lips down, I can see the disdain as he commands you “Come now” You’re a moth with your wings torn, in opposite directions, you flail like a fish, gasping for satisfaction. An empty vessel, dirty soul, shame the reaction.

Someday, hold a second; it’s just a good idea sometimes. Someday he’ll be a cold bag in basement. Someday, my wrath of rat justified. Someday he’ll be dirt packed under the cement.

[newt-grundy]

For some reason or another, I’m still fuckin kickin. Kickin so hard right through the belly button. Run this shit a second time, run it twice, second life. But this time without my boy, rest in peace, six six nine. Mower blade on my foot, only got three toes. Smack my lips in the heat, why I taste playdough? Smoking white nigga shit, sleepin in a tunnel. Say they ain’t no body, so I’m talkin to the shadows. Ain’t got cash cream, instead it call gelato. Blood clots in my jeans, girl I’m shootin hallow. Bullet stash with the beam, pale is my moto. Wicca eyes on both sides, twisting right to Anglo. Think I smell dessert, but it’s your head in the oven. Chop your tits, to a mince, nipple dime a dozen. Handle bars, sour brown, making me feel nuthin. Babtist shit ain’t making sense, you say imma own cousin? I could walk these fire coals, that’s the state I’m buzzin. The state vs. Grundy, and Grundy ain’t winnin. Person whale took my girl, woe is me, I hate the world. Which leaves me to lose nothing if I lose my rumpin dime, in your spine neck crumpet, got crime crumble and lactic. Bitch, he deserve it, cold wrap in plastic. You deserve it too, but your plank is different. Floater in your eye with the waves are torrent, with the rotate orbit of the thumb print serpent.

Nirp or die bitch, keep your eyes to the side, sixty five cents make a dollar get high, start spinnin, cut it up, bust it out, then hit it. Hurry yo ass, don’t get me fixin. Stop playin where the rose at? I don’t know shit, do my pockets look flat? I told you that shit spent homie, but you don’t listen, watchya don’t trust me. Think I been pickin? It’s stuck to the bottom of the boat, but we can’t float with families round ya know? They’d sniff or spot the glow, so pack ya shit up gotta go. Gotta find a box to occupy, light up in the trash, stunk to high heavens rise. Snipe a butt on your way I got shakes from bud cakes. Let us fix this state, because I need a head change.

But sour went south, plastic cross in my mouth. Tongue my teeth leakin drano, warm puss poppin out. Twitch knuckles stuck gummy, panic driven, need money, cure my vertebrae breakin crooked lousy and runny. Dread drops the clouds, cancel out the sunny side overhang on the route, tumble weed roll, viper vengeance and dust tolls, to eat through my skin, larva freedom bustin out. I thought I could maintain control, but now I start to doubt. My main vein once plump and prominent is shriveled like a raisin in a drought. I’m crackin here man, the air’s movin too quick, I can’t catch my breath. I miss my baby brother, I haven’t seen him since, my skin was flushed and relaxed; now it’s taught to a pinch. Situation getting fucky, what she’s saying don’t make sense. I know it’s just a come down but this one’s sure a bitch, I don’t know if I can handle it, but If I don’t then I’m dead. I miss when I was comfortable sleepin in a warm bed. Now the grass is wet matted dog shit, and covered in insects. Dry under the bridge, next to nazi tags and dirty rigs. Tie my pack to my bibs, wake up with a fuckin knife in my neck. From out the blue, a disturbing invite of death, no one to call, no one to help, my thoughts rapid flyin, colliding in my head, this is hell.

 Panic swelter I’m swoonin.

Cut my ankle lose inches.

Pop the bag, slip the moon in.

Burn shards, fuck riches.

(Home bum death squad homie)

[newt-grundy]

Rape the early afternoon. Boost the food that feeds the goon. Tie his head to the stake, witches burnt in water. Liquid flame of fallen foes,  glows the toes with rotting mold, of the hearts which sit the sand in circle circus tantrum. Lift the roots with grasp on stem, hold in hands the princess hem. Rock the baby, bye bye birdie and burn the walls which shade my friends. A wicket crew in fervor thoughts, where papnat sacks wrap motely rocks, thrown to warn the fenders off from snatching at, that which they sought. I am growing less of soft, with nights of blood the dark is god. Wire twisted in a lock, erect a tarp for shelter.

 Seeming guard gone a tower stands, occupied by old armed men, who once used the blunt of silver to pull out entrails from the dead. Barrel chested chasms with a corked hole, the cork was pulled now see the pull. Coted amber stained sand sits at the base the fall. Clinching, twisting, tweaker lips, curl above the teeth with sips, the clip the edges handle rum, and snap continue rotation. Glory had got me when I was strong, rattled by my pool of wrong. So in this dark which hears my song, the rats congregate at my footstool.

 Within a wire frame her body was losing all moisture. Hope evaporated from her pours; a mist of helplessness fell on her posture. Sixty days ago I ever so slightly nudged my eyes into the shower and against the sink of my monthly rent I calmly and firmly bent her. But now as I drape her comforter against the sun to comfort her, in the stillness of heated hate, the frantic motion of spite flies, she is cursing my name, saying it’s over. My home, my daily, the awarded kingdom of barb sobriety in solemn narcissism, she sprang from the west with a letter to scout her arrival and still married to him like knife to the skin, she begged me to love her once again. I was told amidst the beatings and emotional imprisonment, I (holograph of person) was her rosary, her hope hidden in damp stubborn fingers, which a jolt of the wrist could not loosen.

 After the long awaited and completely abandoned reunion, which shook and threw and I fell like a lovesick ragdoll, a sock monkey with rock honey tears to match my golden head, a mere week in the desert of ruin, and she was telling me to leave her, threatening a departure I’d kill all to prevent. We were always secretive amongst the other citizens, trying our best to fabricate closed doors out of distance and hushed tones, which she consistently broke before I. When the red dropped and the earth cooled, her word was “daddy”, her terror would float up with joy attached by hooks of mania, and she could not permit my loving her, as we were cell mates in a motorized coffin. During the day, I’d be commanded into habitual periods of exile, without any big other, and not a friend insight. All were hidden in shade and so I did the same under the magic tree and I wrote the truth I sewn my ears against.

 At first she was a star student, the prodigal daughter. The cute moth girl who’s flutter of fuzzy wings dazes men and breeds resentment in women. That light quickly faded like a string snapping, a child’s laughter met with sordid rebuke. Frequently more she would lay motionless in thick layers of discontent. I’d scurry like a goddamn fool around her, kissing her knees, begging her to drink water. I had always touched her tentatively and afraid; the softness only caused by the terror of love and now, she claimed such a touch was as breaking glass, concrete friction, mountains falling over each other. I’d find myself more and more dumbfounded of what just the fuck was happening as she would switch from loving as a child to as scornful as a widow, and this madness seemed to have no correlation with my actions or words. I was at the mercy of mercy, and when none, there was only the worst hate one could possibly bear to withstand, and I only could, under the hope of her past devotion to me, now fading fast with water, the leaves, we only ever saw one rabbit and his skin was pulled tight over his ribs, and I doubt he lived long in such an environment.

 Two months of this shame, then she left.

[newt-grundy]

“Wave hands like Clouds” Written and Performed by Newt Grundy