#and they put it up yesterday and now people are screaming
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This is my Essay from the MCR Swarm Zine. I kept hesitating to put it up here, as I feel pretty tender about it. But after everything that happened yesterday, today. I feel like I have to put it out here. It's necessary. Needed. For myself, at the very least.
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"'Cause you only live forever in the lights you makeâ
Itâs June 2022, and Iâm watching My Chemical Romance perform songs of anger, community, and defiance in one of my favorite cities- Prague.Â
The city of my fatherâs family. A city that has repeatedly stared tyranny in the face and decided to rise up despite the odds. Â
Itâs 1945 and the citizens have rebelled to take back the city from the Nazis, street by street.
Itâs the spring of 1968, and citizens fight against another oppressive regime. They are supposed to be crushed in four days.Â
They last eight. Months.Â
Itâs 1989, another uprising, one that comes to be known as the Velvet Revolution. The city is finally free, a culmination of every revolution and rebellion that has come before.Â
In each instance citizens clawed towards freedom by any means necessary, fighting in the open to stop jackbooted goons from holding onto power. To save friends, family, and complete strangers from suffering for one more moment. Each time they lost, they made sure to make it hurt, and to make the oppressor remember how hard the fight had been.Â
They didnât always win the battle,
âThe good guys die and the bad guys winâ
but they won the war.Â
These people keenly knew that institutions will not save you. Only your fellow comrades will.
Itâs June 2022. My friends and I are facing calls of discrimination, for extermination. It can be a miserable time, but I find strength in watching one of my favorite bands. I join the hundreds on livestream, watching the thousands in the stadium. Our eyes fixed on the five on stage.Â
As Gerard starts crooning out the notes of Heaven Help Us for the first time in fourteen years, again Iâm reminded:
They will not save you.
What is this song but a scream to be saved by outside forces? That in the midst of a cruel martyrdom, the Heavens will be silent to pleas for help. Itâs the punchline to the joke, right? No higher power is coming to save you, no matter how much you cry.Â
Best they can offer is to watch you burn.Â
Heaven Help Us has never been a hopeful songâand itâs a struggle to feel hopeful, some days.Â
But the world is an echo of the past as much as it is a march towards an uncertain future. I feel those ghosts whispering to remember this cityâs history while watching MCR on stage. To remember that the only solidarity that can be found is in mutual aidâin the community of our fellow freaks and queers and fags. That without intersectionality between it all we will fucking fail. Itâs hard work, and we wonât always win.
That doesnât mean weâ I â should give up. And MCR agrees. In contrast to the despair of Heaven Help Us, there is Danger Daysâ which speaks more to me now than any other MCR album. Songs of radical love and resistance against fascist conglomerates and an uncaring apocalyptic worldâŠthat doesnât feel as fictional as it did before.Â
In Prague, MCR plays six songs from that album (Boy Division counts, damn it). Seeing Gerard, Frank, and Ray all screaming into their microphones about an apocalypse that is crashing down around our ears lights a fire inside of me. Reminding me that changing the world might mean dying, but hell yeah lets try anyways. Your sacrifice might light the path of victory for others. You get to be the fucking detonatorâand isnât that a privlege? To have your acts of resistance inspire the next in line.Â
Itâs in direct contrast to the lament of Heaven. Stop asking who, what will save us, and realize we have to save ourselves. By any means possible.Â
The concert ends with Kids from Yesterday, and I finish the night listening to Gerard sing that the only people we can truly count on are each other. That fighting for your friends is the purest form of love alive.Â
So in the face of extermination, say fuck you.
And make damn sure your friends want to leave graffiti on your grave.Â
#mcr#my chemical romance#mcr zine#music zine#resistance#the resistance#queer resistance#queer community#if we dont fight for us then who will
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Iâm sorry your probably still up, Iâm sorry youâre probably suffering and scared right now, but thank you for posting. Thank you for not giving into doom. Thank you for putting a little more love and hope and reminders to hold onto your community and survive into the world right now. I really appreciate it as someone who canât sleep tonight. I hope you rest well and survive, even if it is mother fucking impossible thrive in these conditions. Sending you a guttural field to scream in together rn.
This is a very sweet message, thank you for sending it. And I hope youâre also able to find some peace tonight. Admittedly, I think Iâm doing significantly better than many people right now, and to some extent Iâm only as calm as I am right now because I very intentionally stayed out of the mire for most of the day. Instead, I read some stories that made me smile, and doodled some of the remaining fall colors, and later took a walk while the first snow of the season was falling, beautiful massive flakes coating the trees. Iâm looking forward to drinking some warm beverages tomorrow while the snow keeps falling and getting to talk to my therapist. A blue jay came to my bird feeder this morning for the first time in a while, and perhaps tomorrow they will come again.
A couple hours ago I got the chance to video call a beloved friend who I havenât talked to in a while, and it was really grounding to just catch up with someone I care about in the midst of all this. No better time to phone a friend and share the burden than the middle of a sleepless night.
Iâve spent a lot of time recently appreciating the resilience of my local riparian ecosystem. I live in the suburbs, but even in the middle of this heavily human altered environment, life still flourishes. Just this year Iâve seen owls and muskrats and turtles and cranes and raccoons and hawks and a very adorable juvenile skunk. I think when the storm is gone I will once again go out to pick up trash around the creek and do my part to help this little ecosystem thrive.
I think for anyone who is struggling right now or tomorrow or any of the days after, the best thing to do always, is to find someone to help. Yesterday (or the day before yesterday at this point I suppose), I helped one of my neighbors get through the aftermath of a domestic violence incident and find somewhere safe for her and her kid to go. Being able to provide support for someone who needed it in such a tangible way was really nice, and I know I can always look forward to finding more opportunities to help the people around me.
Thatâs whatâs most important right now, I think. Helping your neighbors whenever you can, holding space with your loved ones to cry and laugh together, and doing something practical and tangible like cleaning up the trash by a creek.
#this turned into a meditative little almost prose poem so thanks for the opportunity to do some cathartic 3am writing#Caitie answers#us politics
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#idk what it was but last year there was this weird wave of ONLY COLONIZER RACISTS COMPLAIN ABOUT THEIR NEIGHBORS NOISE tl#it almost made me leave tumblr for good i think some people saw my complete breakdown over it#because yeah complaining about loud foot steps at night might sound dumb to you but im literally losing my mind in this house#but everyone on here was so quick to jump on the THATS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR WHEN YOU LISTEN TO YOUR NEIGHBORS FOOTSTEPS#like autistic people reblogged this without any nuance#like taking sensory and auditory issues aside ?? it fucking sucks!!!!!!!! i dont want to be able to listen to the whole life of my neighbors#and its not their fault our house is made out of fucking cardboard & we all got scamed bc they put fancy expensive floors in w/o insulation#but like my neighbors are out here SCREAMING at 11 pm and not even thinking about trying to be mindful and respectful of others#i literally just stood frozen in like a trauma response in front of my neighbors door because they invited a bunch of people over#and screamed karaoke like theyre about to die#like SCREAMED screamed on a thursday night#and i talked to them before several times and they are sooo sorry every time but still do it regularly#and i dont even share a wall with them and i can hear them screaming and can make out every song theyre singing#like i love karaoke i get it but dont act surprised when i tell you for the 3rd time that its loud when you FUCKING SCREAM AT NIGHT???#i literally begged the apartment company to hang up an info sheet about noise bc the house rules and the law say no loud noise after 10pm#and they put it up yesterday and now people are screaming#i was unable to ring their door bell for a couple of minutes bc i just could not understand how they were screaming asif theyre in a stadium#i havent slept all week because every night someone on the complete oposite of the house under me was playing drums every night#i know life sucks i know the only time we get to ourselves sometimes is at night but????? you cant just whip out drums at night???#just because you want to or dont get to otherwise???#and its not even a cultural thing?? because many countries have the same night time noise rules as germany?#i know its funny to poke fun at germans for being rule loving stoic and how they have smth up their ass and haha but like china has them too#i would love for life to be a big big party but my life is having to get up for work in a couple of hours and i have to work the front desk#which on its own shoves me into a meltdown of having to talk to people and get the phone like every 2 minutes#but i havent slept all week#i havent slept properly the last 5 years#and i have been trying sleeping pills and everything#now im just too groggy to form proper sentences when i have to talk to neighbors when theyre loud and they think im high#people think im crazy either way because to make sure where the noise is coming from i have to walk through all the corridors of 7 floors#and people always see me and to make it less weird i talk to them but that only makes it more weird
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i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".
it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.
do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.
but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.
do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).
you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.
walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.
no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.
do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."
you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.
there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.
i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.
he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."
#spilled ink#warm up#âwhy did u tag it warm upâ bc i wrote it off the cuff while drinkin coffee lol#btw the 30 dollar buy in for the dog walking is bc they pay the organizer a small pittance so she can#run fb ads and stuff and like she does put in a lot of work i don't mind paying her#but that's exactly what im fucking talking about like.#ppl can't afford to volunteer their time anymore and we all understand it!!! everything costs money for everyone!#like we didn't have to use to say ''do you mind paying me back for the stuff we ate''#we used to be able to afford to feed our friends once in a while!!!
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Heylo my maggotsies... I'm sorry to do this but I have a thing that I really, really need to do (thank you Ash for helping me realise that) but I'm terrified to. so well. I'm going to make one of the posts (Neil reblogged me a couple of days ago so I feel pretty safe making one now since he only lurks by once in two weeks so this is as good a time as it gets to make a post and not expect many notes, yes I'm an overthinker and I'm actually scared of this getting notes).
Sigh. Here goes.
...I'm scared of even typing it.
Nope okay I can do this let's go.
If this post gets 1k notes, I'll look up jobs in design and film making that don't need a college degree.
2k notes, I'll sign up for an Alliance Francaise course so I can have another language on my CV, and I'll find a course that teaches me how to use design software.
5k, I'll look up distance learning alternatives, because just talking about physical college yesterday made me spend the whole morning and afternoon today in and out of nightmares screaming. Fuck.
10k, I'll tell my mum that I can't do the offline college. She's been talking to me about it, but I've been dodging because I'm not well-off and I really need to be earning and idk how to do that without college and I feel so guilty.
15k, I'll officially back out from the college (does that count as dropping out, if it hasn't begun? maybe half. i am a college and a half dropout, my 11th grade self would hate me and my 10th grade self would refuse to believe it).
I don't know what I'll do then. I don't know how to live as trans here in India, I don't know how to earn enough to be able to help my family, I don't know what I'm good at and I'm so fucking terrified. But. I spoke to @random-doctor-on-the-internet last night (I love you Ash you're such a fucking amazing human) and they made me realise that well maybe landing in a hospital with steroids to relieve an allergy attack because of exam stress isn't normal and so.
Well. Here I am. I know I can't do it, but I'm scared to risk everything, it's just not something people do here, dropping out. But also (TW s**cide statistics mentioned below the cut)... And so I've just. Got to do it, got to save myself and say no to college (cue say no to school, kids joke). Somehow be brave enough. And yeah.
To quote a financial express article: "In an alarming situation, a total of 7,62,648 suicides were reported in India between 2018 to 2022, Of this student suicides account for 7.6% at 59,239". Maybe if more people did say fuck you to the system here, that wouldn't be the case. That number could have been 59,240 (aside from everyone who wasn't counted and hushed up), that could have been me, and I don't want to put myself in that situation again. You know? Yeah.
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how would modern day sukuna be like a father? :o
nerves â ryomen sukuna x f!reader
a/n: no curses au, lovelies! thank you for being so patient MWUAH and of course, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates it!
when one thinks of sukuna, one thinks of a broad muscular man covered in tattoos with a sharp jawline and an even sharper tongue punching the hell out of anyone.
you never think of the same man carrying a pink glittery bag and his own little pretty princess.
âdo you have your lunch box?â
âyup!â
he quirks an eyebrow, âyou sure?â
your daughter nods excitedly before looking over her dadâs shoulder. she grins when she finally sees you and excitedly calls you over, âmama! âmorning!â
a smile instantly appears you on your face as you make your way towards your little sweetheart, âgood morning, baby!â
you take her into your armsâignoring your husbandâand you kiss her cheek, âyou excited for your first day of school?â
âmhm!â she gasped suddenly, âmama, look at my hair! papa made it for me!â she giggles, proudly showing off her ponytail.
you look with a knowing look and a small smile at your husband.
sukuna frowns and looks away, âit was easy anyway,â he then glares at you, âdonât make a big deal out of it.â
you giggle and pad your way towards him, resting your arm on his shoulder and gently kissing his lips, âitâs a really cute deal, though.â
you lightly bounce your daughter in your other arm, âright, d/n?â
âyeah! papa is the best!â she cheers, hugging him tightly.
your husband groans, butânonethelessâhis arms are wrapped around you two, âyou two are such drama queens.â
he leans slightly, mouth near your ear as he whispers, âyou better give me a proper fucking kiss when we drop the brat off.â
you gasp lightly and smack his shoulder, âwatch your language!â you watch him scrunch his faceâmost likely about to sass youâso you press a quick kiss to your daughterâs cheek then your husbandâs.
you then push them through the door with a nervous smile, âokay, bye! have a great time and donât forget that mama loves you!â
âI love you too, mama!â
of course, you wouldâve loved to accompany your daughter to school, especially on her first day, but the darn office just happened to call for you right now.
sukuna knows that, and so does your cute daughter, so there is a reason why they were both so reluctant to leave.
anyway, back to the present.
your husbandâs frown is still evident as he is robbed yet again from a âproperâ kiss. he picks your daughter up easily and then throws her in the car.
she, as always, finds it funny and starts laughing her little butt off. sukuna rolls his eyes, and gets into the car himself.
he puts on the playlist that your daughter made herself, and finally starts the car. the ride is quiet, if you donât count the singing and screaming of your daughter.
of course, sukuna canât do anything about itâeven if he knows that he doesnât want her to stop in the first place.
the school isnât that far away anyway, so they reach it in no time. your husband skilfully parks in front of the gate and takes his seatbelt off.
he doesnât hear hurried unbuckling of a belt or nonstop squealing and fidgeting, so he looks at his daughter, âwhatâs up?â
she fidgets with the hem of her shirt then speaks up, softly, âI amâscared.â
he furrows his eyebrow, turning his entire body towards her, âhuh? why? you were so excited with your mom earlier and you were screaming my ear off about it yesterday.â
âI know,â she murmurs then frowns, ââŠbut what if people donât like me?â
sukuna is stunned for a moment. he isnât the one to normally deal with your daughter whenever she needed deep or meaningful emotional advice.
that was what you did, especially since you are able to read your daughter pretty well.
but he tries his best cause he would be damned if he isnât the best father. his hand is placed on her head, albeit a bit roughly.
she whines, âpapa, my hair!â
he takes a moment, âIâŠâ he starts then quietens down for a second, and even then, youâre daughter is looking intently at him.
he then looks at her again, âthey will love you. youâre a good kid."
your daughterâs eyes widen at her dadâs unfiltered compliment. she beams, quickly unbuckling her belt and throwing herself into his arms.
her smile is so wide it almost hurts her, but her heart feels so full because of her dadâs praise that she couldnât care about anything other than him.
he slowly starts patting her head, âand if someone bothers you, I will just beat them up.â
âmama said no violence!â your daughter scolds and almost on cue, your face appears on the screen: youâre calling!
looks like you managed to squeeze in some time to check up on her. your daughter swiftly presses on answer and chirps, âhi mama!â
âhi baby! why are you not in school yet?â you question, eyes darting towards your husband, questioning.
âpapa wanted to get some food first, so we just arrived!â
sukuna isâinternallyâflabbergasted. this liar. he is about to interject, but then he ponders about it for a moment: maybe she doesnât want you to see her hesitant about the whole school thing.
maybe she wants to appear strongâwith no weak pointsâin front of her mother. then he breathes out a chuckle, at least she takes after him in something.
âsukuna! she couldâve been late!â you huff then sigh, âgood thing that you guys moved early anyway.â
your eyes then focus on your daughter, âhowâre you feeling?â
âexcited!â
âany nerves or anything?â you ask knowingly, but she shakes her head.
she hugs sukuna tighter, âI was a little nervous, but papa made me feel better!â
you grin, âdid he now?â
he notices the teasing glint behind your eyes and looks away to avoid your gaze. your daughter giggles at her dadâs behaviour, and so do you.
and your husband has never felt more teamed up on than now. she hears the bell rings, âoh! I gotta go now!â
âbye papa!â she kisses her dadâs cheek, âbye mama!â then kisses the phoneâs screen. you blow her a kiss back, and she dashes out of the car, ready to start her day.
even while walking towards the building, she turns again to her dad and waves at him happily.
sukuna nods and she grins, switching her focus back on the school. his focus is on her intently, until you speak up, âI am proud of you.â
his gaze snaps to you, expecting a teasing smirk, but instead youâre smiling warmly at him. his heart contracts in a way that makes him feel weird, and he canât find it in him to give you a snarky reply.
he groans, âshe is my daughter as much as she is yours, yâknow.â
you hum, âof course, she is,â he hears rustling on the other line, so he assumes youâre checking some papers before turning to him again, âshe takes after you in more ways than one.â
âyeah, I noticed,â he says quietly, and you laugh.
he notices from the corner of his eyes his daughter laughing excitedly with a bunch of others girls, and he lets out a breath that he didnât know he was holding.
you tap on your desk a little, âyou nervous?â
âif someone hurts her, I will kill them.â
âI figured."
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okay buckle up chuckle fucks here is everything i remember from tonight (absolutely missing some stuff)
- before dan comes on he introduces himself over the speaker stating that he asked phil to do it and phil said no because he didnât want to be sat behind a curtain for an hour
- dan comes on stage and stands in the big church plinth thing (iconic)
- he tells a story about how he went to a&e the day before yesterday because he had sore eyes. says phil was trying to get him to put eye drops in but he was being very dramatic so whilst on the phone to 111 phil knelt over him lying on the bathroom floor holding his eyes open to put drops in. dan then went to hospital to check it and everythingâs fine (lol) he just needed some special eyedrops. phil did not accompany him and dan had to cross a dual carriageway on his own whilst not being able to see well (i doubt he will ever let it go)
- here is a diagram i drew on the way home to depict said event
- it is also giving this
- spoke about the butt chair. union chapel said they did not have any furniture for him to borrow so he had to bring his own - he bought the butt chair from his bedroom and a lil plant to decorate. said phil carried the plant to the car but made dan get the chair in the uber and then said âokay have fun at work sweetieâ (this was said jokey but we died nonetheless)
- he then talks about pissyourselffordan trending and how he had to explain to harper collins what the actual fuck was happening on stan twt. apparently they were glad the fans were supportive and he has an engaged audience but they were not going to use the hashtag in the promo. called the whole scenario pissgate and the crowd chanted piss at him
- he was told there was wine and advertised wine before realising alcohol was not allowed in the church. he then got given a sprite and everyone screamed that it was piss
- talked about the book and the previous release, how weird covid was, talked about the photoshoot for the book cover and the graphic design. said he didnât love the pics because they were super dramatic. someone shouted âitâs cuntyâ he replies: âoh itâs cunty is it?â then realises he said cunty in a church which was a big lol
- he then read the new chapters, several mentions of phil not being supportive and abandoning him at the hospital (he talked about phil a lot it was very sweet)
- then brought out danâs slit (box used to put questions in before the show)
- the questions i can remember include but are not limited to:
- what was the weirdest position you wrote the book in: âcheeks out in an armchair curled up over my laptop, you might think your scrolling posture is okay now but when you hit thirty you will all be brokenâ
- fave comfort show: âthe office - is the office a bit millennial? it isnât as millennial as friends. ross being offended by a manny? thatâs where my internalised homophobia is fromâ
- how has the gaming channel affected your mental health? A: he is finding it a lot more sustainable than before because of help with editing, but will see where it goes
- will he ever judge drag race: he didnât want to when he was asked because he didnât want to be exposed to more speculation about his sexuality at the time, same with strictly come dancing
- how do you cope with feeling lonely whilst surrounded by people: talked about how online friends are truly real friends and distance doesnât have to determine friendship levels. says it is important to notice the friendships even that arenât close
- i canât remember the question but he said that phil has to remind him of some of the stuff that is in ywgttn when he struggles âi literally learnt the word catastrophising from your book dan come onâ
- another tour? âdo you guys want thatâ *screaming* âwhat would it be?â *dan and phil games screams* âwell đđâ
- are we going to get more sister daniel: *everyone loses their minds* âmaybe i should have done it for the church but it is far too exposing under the spotlightâ
- did you work in the asda in Lower Earley: âwhat in the baby reindeer? yes i didâ
- then went to the insta questions that were too inappropriate for the audiobook including
- piss
- will you wear wigs
- when will you wear wigs
- how long is your big toe âsix centimetres - i donât have a big toe im just a long personâ
- pee pee poo poo time
- what were the other names for the book: âyou will get through this was a bit cliche, you will get through this night? she is sexy and mysterious. at first we wanted to call it âyou are messed up read this to fix your issuesâ but then realised the book was more serious in tone after it was finished so went with ywgttn insteadâ
- i genuinely canât remember most of these i think i dissociated a lil at this point if anyone remembers please add
- then read the authorâs note at the end of the paper back, talking about how lockdown impacted him and was a big scary thing and also how incredible it is to see people recommend it, find it useful, have therapists recommend it etc. âit is an honour to have created thisâ
- took a selfie with everyone
- someone gave him a bouquet of flowers and he said âaww you guys are so gayâ
- then said âif you enjoyed seeing me in person⊠iâll see you again very soonâ
this is everything i remember off the top of my head so people please feel free to add what i have forgotten!!
and here are all the pics i got!!
#dnp#dan and phil#daniel howell#amazingphil#dapg#ywgttn#dan howell#phil lester#phan#dnpgames#dapgames
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i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.
yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said âsure you canâ and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said âi donât want to look at that anymoreâ. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didnât mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.
he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it âuglyâ. i told him that wasnât a very kind thing to say and that he wouldnât feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to himâbecause he has ânormal handsâ, and heâs glad he does because otherwise heâd be âuglyâ. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a âmessed up faceâ and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasnât very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.
iâve told my supervisors about it and theyâre going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: iâm genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasnât been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know heâs encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly havenât had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesnât teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than canât be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.
iâm lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that iâm a grownup with thicker skin. iâm worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldnât do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldnât stop crying until she couldnât see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friendâs arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something iâm still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindnessâtheir parents Clearly missed something pretty important .
#and for the record i consider my deformity pretty mild. maybe iâm just used to it but things like amniotic band syndrome can turn out a lot#more severe. i rarely even call myself disabled because i donât feel like the term is applicable to me. iâm more hindered by like#my adhd anxiety depression etc than i am my hand. so for those kids to react that way to what i THINK#is a pretty small thing. makes me worry about people that are more visibly disabled#Kids.That are more visibly disabled
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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!
[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]
-
Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroomâthe one thatâs far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anywayâbefore he completely loses his shit.
âSon of a bitch!â Heâs almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.
âMotherfucker,â he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least heâs in control of that much, at least itâs anything but what heâs feeling right now.
âThatâs a good way to break your hand, yâknow,â a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.
He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.
âJesus shit,â Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. âYou walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.â
Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. âSomehow, I donât think you wouldâve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.â
Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.
âWhat do you want?â he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks heâs entitled, considering.
This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. âCame to see if you were okay, I guess.â
Steve snorts. Is he okay?
Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky âmaybe.â But lately? Itâs more of a resounding âno, not fucking really.â
Aside from everything else â aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact heâd had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy arenât together â aside from all that, thereâs Billy fucking Hargrove.
Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steveâs buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasnât going to push back.
And then heâd started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into todayâs fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steveâs head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing âoops.â
It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steveâs red face and Hargroveâs triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldnât retaliate.
He couldnât.
Heâd marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.
So, no, actually, heâs not really okay.
But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.
âWouldnât have expected you to care,â he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. âThe number of speeches youâve given about how much me and my group suck, Iâd have figured youâd be the first to say I deserved it.â
Munson doesnât say anything for a moment, and Steve doesnât look back to see if the barb landed. He doesnât really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.
âNot your group anymore, though,â Munson finally says.
Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isnât going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.
âHasnât been for over a year, now, right?â Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. âAnd whatever you were like then, youâre⊠less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see youâre kinda trying something new this year.â
Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. âThanks for the endorsement,â he drawls. âIâll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.â
âItâs a start,â Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.
âI guess,â Steve mutters.
âAnd, uh â hey, I grabbed your stuff,â Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steveâs attention had glossed over until now. âSome of itâs kinda⊠milky, sorry.â
Steve blinks. âUh. Thank you,â he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.
Munson shrugs again, putting Steveâs stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because itâs probably never been cleaned. Not like Steveâs stuff is clean now, anyway.
Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.
âWhat I canât figure outââ nope, apparently heâs staying, ââis why youâre in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.â
At least that makes more sense; heâs here out of curiosity, not concern.
âI mean, most people wouldâve hit him for that,â Munson goes on. âI wouldâve.â
But Steveâs already shaking his head before Munsonâs finished speaking. âNot worth it,â he says firmly.
âWhat, afraid of a little suspension?â Munson asks, almost teasing. âPretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.â
âNot anybodyâs golden boy anymore,â Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. âI dropped basketball, remember? Didnât even go in for swimming this year.â
âOh, yeah,â Munson says, like heâd genuinely forgotten. âSorry, not really into the whole⊠sports scene. Like, at all.â
Steve shrugs. âWhatever. Not important. I donât give a shit about being suspended. I donât even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but â whatever.â Steve shakes his head. âItâs just that he couldâ there are other things he could do.â
In the mirror, Munsonâs eyebrows go up. âWhat, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?â
Steve raises his brows right back. âIf he did, do you really think Iâd tell you?â
Munson tips his head to the side. âYeah, okay, fair enough.â
âAnyway, he doesnât have blackmail, he has⊠leverage, I guess.â Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.
ââŠare you allowed to tell me what that is?â Munson asks after a moment.
And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and heâs asked them to follow his lead in just â not talking about it. He hasnât told anybody any version of what happened in the Byersâ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?
(No, no, thatâs not fair. Steve doesnât even know those people, and heâs trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesnât have to be nice, but he shouldnât be unkind.)
(The point stands, though â who would Munson even tell?)
âDo you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?â Steve finally asks, avoiding Munsonâs eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.
âWell, Iâve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargroveâs version of events, as has pretty much everyone, Iâm sure. Havenât heard yours, though,â Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. âI just figured it was because he hated you.â
Steve lets out a humorless laugh. âYeah, well, youâre not wrong. But alsoâŠâ He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. âThere are these kids I babysit. Sort of.â
âSort of?â Munson presses.
âWell, most of the time it feels like theyâre just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where theyâre going without, like, disappearing, and that they donât have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,â Steve admits.
âUh huh,â Munson says; he sounds⊠a little confused, but not disbelieving. âAnd you ended up with this gig, how?â
âItâs Nancyâs little brother, and his little nerd friends,â Steve says (heâs allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and itâs true. And besides, itâs affectionate).
âAaand youâre still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler arenâtâŠâ
Steve shrugs. âThey grew on me. But thatâsâ thatâs not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargroveâs stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasnât supposed to be out.â
âAh,â Munson says.
âYeah.â Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably shouldâve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munsonâs scuffed sneakers. âSo he came looking for her.â
âSo⊠Not that Iâm advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but â like, wouldnât it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?â Munson asks.
Steve passes a hand over his face. âShe was terrified,â he says quietly, feeling a little like heâs betraying Maxâs trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. âShe was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasnât supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since heâd specifically warned her to stay away from him.â
âWhatâs wrong with this other kid?â Munson asks, brows furrowed.
âNothing,â Steve bites out. âHeâs smart, and heâs brave, and heâs, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that heâs black.â
âYouâre fucking kidding me,â Munson snaps, and Steveâs hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. âWe already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but â a fucking kid?â
Steve subsides. âYeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.â He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. âHe knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past meâ and by the time I was able to get up, he was alreadyâ he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wallâ one of my fucking kidsââ Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day heâs had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. âSo I decked him.â
âGood!â Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.
âYeah,â he says. âThen he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, butâ I mean, I mightâve actually won that fight if the fucker hadnât hit me in the head with a plate.â
The expression that crosses Munsonâs face is almost comically shocked. âWhat?â
âYeah,â Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. âIâm a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and thenâ I dunno, nothing.â
Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munsonâs face has turned from âcomically shockedâ to âmildly horrified,â but heâs a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.
âHoly shit, how are you not dead?â Munson blurts out.
He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds heâs actually grateful for the question. Heâs glad to move the conversation along.
âMax.â He smirks over at Eddie. âHargroveâs stepsister. I guess she, uhâ threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.â
Thatâs a deep over-simplification, but Steve canât think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byersâ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; itâs almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).
âHoly shit,â Munson says, and whichever part heâs referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.
âYep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, butâŠâ Steve shakes his head. âHargrove is a fucking psychopath. I donât trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if heâs focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit backâŠâ
âYou think heâll retaliate by going after one of your kids,â Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.
âI know he will,â Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. âAnd they are my kids.â
Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but heâs definitely smiling now.
âIâm serious,â Steve insists, close to smiling himself. âThey think Iâm stuck with them, but theyâre the ones stuck with me.â
âLucky them,â Munson says, andâ what?
âWhat?â Steve asks.
âLook, youâre either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over⊠what, his car was better than yours? Heâs better at laundry ball? I donât fucking remember, and it doesnât really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,â Munson says with an authoritative nod. âYou, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.â
âWell,â Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, âif Iâd known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, Iâd have done it ages ago.â
And now Munsonâs back to smirking at him. âSeeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?â
âWhat? No. I mean â notâ not specifically yours, itâs just⊠like, thereâs not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last⊠while.â Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. âYou just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.â
âAnd all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,â Munson drawls.
Steve rolls his eyes. âI didnât say it was severe.â
âYou got hit with a plate,â Munson deadpans, and Steve canât quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. âSorry.â
Steve shakes his head. âItâs fine.â
Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. âYou want some help with that?â
Steve blinks at him. âWhat?â
âYour whole⊠hair situation. You could bend ovâ like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,â Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.
It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.
On the other hand, Steve really doesnât feel like leaving the bathroom yet. Heâs pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, itâs quiet. It feels almost safe.
âYeah, sure,â Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that heâs accepted.
Credit to him, though: he doesnât back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.
âHot or cold?â he asks, going for the taps.
âHot,â Steve answers immediately; he doesnât need any other cold liquid on his head today.
âHm.â
âWhat?â
âNothing,â Munson says airily, turning on the water. âYou just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower â all that weird jock shit.â
It isnât intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperatureâthe school pipes take forever to heat upâbut to tease. Itâs a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, itâs⊠actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesnât say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steveâs hair.
âCold water is better for your hair. Not that youâd know anything about that.â Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.
Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. âOh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!â Even as heâs pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steveâs scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.
He canât remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe heâd gotten a hug from Dustin last week?
Shit, thatâs fucking pathetic.
He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.
The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.
After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steveâs head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.
âThatâs probably as good as Iâm gonna be able to get it,â he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.
âBetter than I couldâve done here,â Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.
When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.
âWell, Iâm not going to lie to you,â Munson says at last, âyou look a little like a sad, wet dog.â
Steveâs eyes snap to Munson with a glare. âGee, thanks.â
âSome people are into that!â Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. âThat droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. Itâs a thing.â
Do you want to? â the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steveâs head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isnât sure that wouldnât be a bridge too far.
(He isnât even sure it is teasing. For a moment, heâd had the genuine urge to ask.)
âAnyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but Iâm pretty sure your shirt is toast,â Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.
If heâd been wearing a darker color today, it mightâve been alright, but of course today heâd chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he canât salvage it, he might as well ditch it; itâs getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and heâd honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargroveâs little stunt all over him.
He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.
âWhat?â Steve asks. âIf itâs wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. Iâve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.â
Munson blinks at him, almost like heâs trying to clear his head. âOr!â he practically shouts â possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, âOr, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?â
âNot really,â Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. âBut leaving after that feels a little likeâ letting Hargrove win. Like Iâm retreating or some shit.â
âNah, donât think of it like that.â Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like heâs trying to show Steve a grand vision and they arenât both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. âThink of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins Highâs most esteemed dealer.â
Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than heâs ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. âWhat, seriously?â
âSure.â Munson shrugs. âLemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit â though I am just a little biased.â
âWhy?â Steve asks; he doesnât understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesnât even know what heâs done to deserve.
Munsonâs eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. âBeen where you are. Itâs not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldnât have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,â he glances back at Steve, âyouâre genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I donât think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.â
âIâŠâ The words stick in Steveâs throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve canât help but realize itâs probably the nicest thing anyoneâs said or offered to do for him in⊠heâs not even sure how long.
His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munsonâs eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steveâs shoulder. âOr, yâknow, you can tell me to fuck off, because Iâm, like, way overstepping some boundaries, andââ
âWe should go to my place,â Steve blurts, while grabbing Munsonâs wrist for some insane reason.
âWhat?â Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.
âMy place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.â Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. âI want to be able to take a real shower.â
Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steveâs side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they donât both lose their balance.
âI see how it is!â Munson gasps dramatically. âMy sink shower just wasnât good enough!â
Steve holds in a laugh. âYour sink shower was⊠fine. But Iâve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.â
Munsonâs gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and â oh. Oh, that hadnât sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you donât go around making to just anybody.
Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, âI could, but Iâd have to charge you extra.â
Steve canât help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesnât stumble more than a couple of steps away.
âMeet you at my place?â Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. âHalf an hour?â
âWouldnât miss it.â Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.
âMunson,â Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boyâs hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. âUh. Thanks. For, like⊠yeah. Thanks.â
Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steveâs absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. âNo need for thanks, man,â he says. âIâm honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.â
And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination itâs leading him to.
And thinking that heâs honestly a little excited to find out.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things post s2 AU#stranger things#this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k#is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve#solar wrote
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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME
â 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER
a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)
summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.
word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)
pairing: logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.
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Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgottenâthe man who used to smile.
Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harmâhe'd never knowâbut he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.
When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chestâpuncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.
He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.
His family. His home.
What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his worldâhis universeâwould be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.
And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.
"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.
What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.
Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failureâthe guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?
Why did he have to fucking live?
He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.
What once felt like a giftâeternity to find these people who loved himânow rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.
"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.
His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.
No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.
Nothing.
The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leaveâmove to a better spot where humanity was sparseâbut the pull of you across the street kept him there.
"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.
The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards itâgrabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.
He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.
The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feetâunfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.
The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attentionâa glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.
Your lips against his still seared through his bodyâyour moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.
Doing the same to you felt unfathomableâpainful.
But how could he stop?
When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.
The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speakerâsoft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.
"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breathâhearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.
"Nightmares."
You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sandâgave him hope that this world might treat him differently.
Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.
He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.
"Do they happen often?"
The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.
Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.
"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.
He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefullyâhiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.
"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touchâyour kiss.
They should have scared you.
Logan almost wished they had.
"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledgeâyour hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."
You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."
"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."
"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"
Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling soundâhis body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.
Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.
"Why are you up bub?"
You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."
"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"
"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."
He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"
"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."
"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."
"I'm going to hang up."
"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.
The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.
"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."
He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silenceâof ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.
Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.
He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."
"Whyâ"
"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."
Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"
"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."
"That's boring," you groaned.
"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."
"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."
He growled, low and hungryâpleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."
Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongueâshivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.
You needed him.
"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."
He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feralâas if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."
He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stoveâthe incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudlyâand horriblyâto some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.
If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.
Or to you.
"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came firstâthe chicken or the egg."
Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.
"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.
"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."
Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."
"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."
"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.
The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"
"Ask you what?"
Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strainâhis grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.
If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.
"What came first."
He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated beforeâthis out of place.
"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counterâhis head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"
"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."
"Did you beg her?"
His claws pressed to Wade's smug faceâblood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."
"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."
"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.
"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricaneâor whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."
"Don't fucking talk about her like that."
Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.
"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."
"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.
Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.
The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.
The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."
Wade was right. For once.
What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.
And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.
Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.
This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.
"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.
"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not.Â
"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wallâhis claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."
He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."
On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.
You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.
No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.
Logan made sure you understood that.
That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.
You would give him the space he neededâthe time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heartâcarved into the metal of his bonesâbut Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.
The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.
You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen.Â
Maybe this made you seem desperateâa type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.
"Logan," you saidâhis name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.
"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."
The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"
"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"
A loud rumble of an engine blared in the backgroundâkilling your ears. "What?"
"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"
"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"
You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."
"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."
That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something strongerâa fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.
"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.
He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief momentâLogan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.
"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."
What he broke.
This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his wordsâeach one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something goodâa light he sought in the darkness he found himself inâand messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.
He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.
Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.
"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.
"Anythin'."
The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharingâevery dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.
You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.
"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."
Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."
You smiled, worrying your lip between your teethâthat familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."
"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."
Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse wordsâmainly growled on Logan's endâcut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.
"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."
"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.
"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."
Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.
Your chest heaved as your body grew warmâthe image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.
"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.
"Shut up."
"Got ya red handed angel."
With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your workâWade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"
His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.
"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."
A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your bossâher glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.
"I've got to go. But Wade..."
"Yeah?"
"Take a picture for me will you?"
"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower wallsâ" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek.Â
The line went dead instantly.
The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your likingâeach flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.
That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.
A date that felt long overdue.
You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.
This wasn't temporary.
A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.
Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.
Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on topâwrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.
Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.
"You're early," you saidâdesperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.
Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.
This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.
"I told ya I had great timing honey."
Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."
"I know."
The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.
You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remainedâlingering on the edges of your heart.
"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his toolsâthe bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.
"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other sideâin your homeâand yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"
He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it freeâstamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.
"I'm not picky."
You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."
"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."
The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"
A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."
"I smelled different."
"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."
There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the centerâas if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.
You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.
Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.
A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.
You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to rippleâface screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.
For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.
Logan could feel your eyes on himâthe aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scentâthe way your heart sped up with each shift of his bodyâand finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.
You liked him.
He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.
The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.
"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.
"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."
"Smart woman."
You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.
A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.
"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.
You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.
Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.
All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.
Home felt like you.
He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"
Your eyes dragged to the doorâtracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."
"What?" he spit.
The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."
Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"
"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."
"I think so too."
Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.
Except this time...he started the conversation.
"You asked about my nightmares last night."
Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."
He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."
"I know what I'm getting intoâ"
"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."
The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.
Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."
"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.
That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so longâput it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.
He told himself you didn't need to know.
It was better this way.
Tonight proved that all those reasonsâall those excusesâstood no chance when it came to you.
"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.
"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like thatâeyes wide and lips turned downâhe felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.
Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.
Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.
But saying it all to youâŠ
He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.
"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt likeâwhat...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."
"Oh, Loganâ"
"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crackâhis eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."
Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so brokenâso raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.
This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.
"I came home and they wereâ" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words outâthe truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."
You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.
"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."
The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the futureâsnapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."
"That's not me."
He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."
"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyesâthe fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."
"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."
Your gaze hardened. "Why?"
"So you know what you're gettinâ"
"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."
He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hipâhis claws retreating back into his body.
"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."
"Then it's a good thing I want you too."
That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.
"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.
The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"
You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.
The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.
The sight of his smileâwide and unfilteredâmade your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.
"The blue..."
"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."
Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.
So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.
"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"
You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."
There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."
"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."
"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.
"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirtâleaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."
"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closerâhis arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."
"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."
A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his bodyâthe love resonating in how you clung to him.
It all slammed into him at once.
Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.
Tonightâfor the first timeâhe slept.
Without nightmares.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x you#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x y/n#my writing
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spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!
aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong
something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.
from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says âthe other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear lifeâ stuck out to me.
i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. heâs terrified that heâll lose. itâs an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like heâs confident heâll win, when in reality even if he does win, heâs still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.
that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and whatâs ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking heâs confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.
so why does he act this way
all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but itâs ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. itâs how heâs able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.
as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.
but this brings me to my next point.
aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesnât seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, heâs still able to pull it off. heâs still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.
but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.
that says more than enough about his character.
and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. heâs witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.
and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.
i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isnât easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.
letâs all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.
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âŠ Ë : · CHILL GIRL (HONESTLY, SHE'S NOT) â ALEXANDRA SAINT MLEUX, CHARLES LECLERC đŠą
pairing â charles leclerc x singer! reader x alexandra saint mleux
summary â you and alex broke up because she suggested charles to join your relationship, and you're really mad about it
warnings â hate comments (mostly for alex, but it's just for the plot), mixed smau, arguments
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
masterlist | letterboxd
tags; @iamred-iamyellow @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @changetyre @ilovechickenwings @callsignwidow @inejghafawifesblog @formulaal @niyu2208 @ilivbullyingjeongin @magnummagnussen @astmclaren455 @sp1rl @only-nope @eyerollerr
yourusername just posted!
liked by charlesleclerc, sukiwaterhouse and 312,502 others
yourusername MILAN WHAT THE FUUUCK !1!11!!!!!! You were so loud and SO MANY i still can't believed that i got to play my silly little songs infront of that much people. giggling and kicking my feet atm đđ
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user1 now why is charles in the likes and not alexandra
user2 honestly this is getting out of hand user3 yn keeps terrorizing their images in her concerts and they're in her likes. it makes absolutely no sense user4 there's a rumor that alex cheated on y/n with charles and that charles was also attracted to y/n aswell user5 lol what
user6 THANK YOU FOR COMING WE LOVE YOUU
user7 i'm so in love with her
user8 i hope that she's fine, she seemed tired these days
user9 she's performing heartbroken it's normal to be tired
user10 your music saved me, y/n â€ïž liked by author
user11 omg she liked it!!
reneerapp collab when?
user12 I WOULD DIE FOR THAT user13 Y/N RENEĂ I'M BEGGING YOU user14 this would be a dream ngl
user15 i met her in the backstage and she was the sweetest woman in the world, she took time to talk to my friends and me. it was amazing
user16 i just want to be half as cool as her
alexandrasaintmleux just posted on her story!
[caption: red for today đ€]
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user17 matching with y/n's tour outfit?
charlesleclerc trĂšs belleâ€ïž
user18 ferrari red or my kink is karma red?
yourusername đ€
yourusername just posted!
liked by charli_xcx, charlesleclerc and 401,452 others
yourusername This bitch is @ tiny deskk. Thank you for having me this evening and for the interview, i had so much fun darlings
Go check out the tiny concert and the interview at tiny desk yt channel đ±âšđŠąđ€
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user19 slay slay slay
charli_xcx tiny desk BIG VOICE
yourusername hold on while i scream user20 the only opinion from a charl- that matters
user21 HER STYLE ^^^^
user22 the interview was WILD
user23 we've been waiting for over a month for the rumors to be clear
rachelzegler 4 + 4??
user24 ATE đŁïž
user25 yeah everyone is noticing her now, but at what costs
user26 she's always been incredible, stfu user27 it's not her problem that her ex's bf is a dick
alex's chat with charles
charlesleclerc just posted a story!
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alexandrasaintmleux charles what are you doing?? are you being serious??
alexandrasaintmleux she adressed the rumors yesterday, you idiot. it would've ended there but you just ruined it.
alexandrasaintmleux just posted!
đMadrid, Spain
liked by francisca.cgomes, yourusername and 43,104 others
alexandrasaintmleux far from home đđ€
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user28 gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous
user29 charles not liking??
user30 AND Y/N DID
user31 y/n back in the likes omggg
user32 the world is healing
francisca.cgomes wait i'm trying to spell gorjus liked by author
user33 y/n and she complemented each other soo well
user34 i miss them user35 you guys know they broke bc of something right?? like they didn't ended their relationship bc they were good. something bad was going on between them user36 yeah it's @/charlesleclerc user37 and she tags him ijbol
user38 GUYS !!!! y/n performing in madrid this weekend !!!! THEY'RE SEEING EACH OTHER
user39 ALEX AT THE MIDWEST PRINCESS TOUR VIP TENT??? user40 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
user41 she's putting space between charles and her
user42 PLEASE TELL ME YOU LEAVE CHARLES
yourusername just posted!
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, ynupdates and 612,830 others
yourusername playing mermaids with y'all tonight was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G madrid đ€đ€đ§đ§
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rachelzegler how does it feels being the prettiest and more talented women?
yourusername you tell me user43 this duo>>>
user44 i really thought alex was coming tonight
user45 we didn't see her but my senses tell me she was on backstage
user46 obsessed isnt a strong enough word for how i feel abt this outfit its so pretty
yourusername just posted on her story!
[caption 1: OMG OMG OMG]
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user47 Y/N WHAT R YOU DOING
user48 HAHAHAHAHAHA
user49 you're actually the funniest person alive
user50 not the same phrase charles used-
user51 y/n woke up an chose violence
alexandrasaintmleux i'm so proud of you btw đ€
already working on part 3 :))
#charles leclerc#alexandra saint mleux#alexandra saint mleux x reader#charles leclerc x reader#f1#formula 1#formula 1 smau#f1 smau#noraverse đ«§#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#alexandra saint mleux smau#charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux#charles leclerc fanfic#cl16#cl16 x you#cl16 x reader#chappell roan#alexandra saint mleux x you
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a paddock day
charles x civilian!reader
yn
liked by yourbsf, and 12 others yn yo soy muy feliz aqui ! hasta mañanaaaaaa barcelona gp, te quiero mucho! [i am very happy here! see you tomorrow barcelona gp, i love you very much!]
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yourbsf finally main girl gets to watch a gp!
‷ yn literally jumped on this plane last night im shivering and quaking.
yourfriend ATE THAT UPPPPPP!!! WNJOY
‷ yn THANKS BABESSS
yourbsf im literally telling u theyâll see u and go WOAH WOSH WASH! then theyll fall in love with you and youâll be those lowkey ass wags
‷ yn Should I just wear a giant banana costume to get their attention
‷ yourbsf DUHHHH!!! and go public, theyll stalk you and follow u and ull go famous
‷ yn what happened to being lowkey ass wag
‷ yourbsf i can be your wagđđ
yn instagram stories:
you strolled through the paddock through all motorhomes like a little girl, contained with excitement. a lot of people were there but somehow, not in front of the ferrari motorhome.
you saw a man dressed in all black (kind of stupid since it was burning hot) with black sunglasses as a hat on his head walk you way. âum excuse me? would you mind if you took my photo please?â you approached him as he turned to you
he looked at you but of course, he was wearing the sunglasses so you wouldnât tell what he was thinking. did he not speak english?
âtu no hablas ingles?â you asked âOh! No, sorry. I do speak english and of course. Where would you want to take it?â He said in a foreign language.
âJust hereâ you walked over to the 55 wall âYou are a fan of Sainz?â He took your phone as you walked over âBoth of them, but my best friend loves him and couldnât come so I thought Iâd send her a photoâ you laughed as he did as well.
He took a few photos as you stood in front of the wall. âLeclerc or Sainz, for you?â He asked, handing you back your phone âBothâ you said in an obvious manner
âLife or deathâ he laughed ââŠ.Leclerc⊠though, Ferrari needs to stop fucking him over so he can get another winâ You shrugged, putting your phone in your pocket as he nodded with a smile. âYou?â âLeclerc!â He exclaimed as you giggled, this man was quite fun.
âI lit a few candles today in hopes he might win, I really hope he does. Or any Ferrari winâ You said âDo you have a number?â He asked stupid question he thought âIâm sorryâ that was a stupid questionâ you laughed âDo you mind if we exchanged them?â You scratched you head âUm⊠ad much as I want to, I donât exchange numbers with random attractive guys, Iâm sorryâ you laughed âAttractive? Thank youâ âWell seeing as I can only see half your faceâŠâ you felt your phone start to vibrate and saw your friend calling you
âI have to go but it was lovely meeting you! I hope we get our Leclerc win today!â You started to walk backwards âYou too!â You turned around, putting your phone to your ear as you head your best friendâs scream, unknowing that Charlesâ eyes lingered on you.
It was only free practice today. He hoped to see you around more.
liked by 20 others yn LALALALALA
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yourbsf LETS GO BITCH 55!!!!!!! yourbsf still think u shouldve given hottie your instagram
‷ yn i got NERVOUS
june 2, 2023
liked by 21 others yn POLE POSITION LETS GO BABYGIRL
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yourbsf CHARLES BABYGIRL LECLERC
‷ yn FUCK YEAH
june 3, 2023
You were admiring the paddock once again, now race day, as you heard the familiar voice behind you. âI hope we get our Leclerc win todayâ you hear behind you and you start to smile. You turned around and your heart sank to your ass.
Charles babygirl Leclerc was smiling at you âexcuse me?â you mumbled, mouth slightly ajar âI know, I was in a more casual outfit yesterdayâ he laughed and you looked him up and down, wearing his red Ferrari suit âes muy stĂșpidaâ you mumbled
âI know you maybe think this is weird butâ I could really not stop thinking about you for the last few days and have been trying to find youâ He chuckled softly as you felt like you hit your head on the pavement. Charles Leclerc looking for YOU?
âWell, you found me! Congrats on pole by the wayâ âThank you! Though I hope to win tomorrow, for the both of usâ âOh please, I canât take another Ferrari lossâ you closed your eyes.
âYou are spanish?â He asked âOh, no! I just like learning languages and visit here a lotâ you said âWould you mind⊠if you showed me Barcelona some time?â was he asking you out? âI- uhm- sureâ you fumbled âYou donât give your number, so what about Instagram?â He smiled
âSureâ you grabbed your phone and showed it to him as he searched it up on his phone and suddenly, he was being called by fans. âIt was nice seeing you again!â You walked as fast as you could to the other side and he smiled, shaking his head. yn
| charles_leclerc has requested to follow you! 1h
request accepted!
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, and 25 others
yn did not go with the banana outfit @yourbsf. so so sad its over BUT WE GOT A FUCKING LECLERC WIN AND DOUBLE FERRARI PODIUM LETS GO
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yourbsf babes idt u needed the outfitâŠâŠ.
‷ yn đ.
charles_leclerc You are welcome
‷ yn thank you (and carlitos) for stopping the ferrari drought
yourfriend đ LETS GO BITCH
june 4, 2023
| charles_leclerc liked your story. 10m
| charles_leclerc liked your post. 7m
| charles_leclerc liked your post. 3m
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, and 12 others
yn mb my definition of âexploreâ is a museum LECLERC
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charles_leclerc I enjoyed every moment, stop apologizing cherie. We need another one for more exploring! june 8, 2023
charles.16
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charles.16 WHO IS THIS NEW WAG
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chalando1 chilll probs just a fan
‷ charles.16 they đ exchanged đ instagramsđ
updatef1I I FOUND HER @yn
‷ yn no you didnât
[COMMENT DELETED!]
f1w4gs SHES SO FUNNY I LOVE HER ALREADY june 8, 2023
f1wags._
liked by 3,281 others
f1wag._ Meet Yn Yln! Charles and her have been spending more time together and were rumored to have met in the Barcelona GP! We donât know much about her as sheâs very private but weâre already loving her humor!
#charlesleclerc #yn
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f1circuitzz Whatt!!! Sheâs so beautiful
chacha16 What does she do and what country does she live in?
‷ f1wag._ We know she is German but we donât know if she still lives there. Sheâs a fashion student but donât know what college/university!
ynsfan11 giggling at the bio
yncharles NEED HER AT THE PADDOCK / GARAGE AGAIN
user1 watch them be together for a week
user3 charles switched to blondes đ
june 8, 2023
charlesaep
liked by 6,272 others
charlesaep I CANT BREATHE YN AND CHARLES WERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME IM SWESTING IM CURING WHETHTHRUFKC
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User1 why canât she just walk
‷ yntcdts calm downđ theyre cute
june 10, 2023
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, and 8 others
yn i got a photographer now đ„č
view all 20 comments charles_leclerc i am âa photographerâ
‷ yourbsf i was THE photographer before you Charles Leclerc. ‷ charles_leclerc But I am now her favorite oneđ
‷ yourbsf I HATE YOU. YN DUMP HIM
‷ charles_leclerc NO
‷ yn why would i dump him? heâs a 2 in one (driver and photographer) / im kidding sharl loveu
‷ charles_leclerc I mean, I do love driving you around
‷ yourbsf you both are disgusting
‷ yn get dick
june 11, 2023
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 11 others yn is this montREAL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? view all 8 comments
charles_leclerc I love it when my girl is a fangirl đ
charles_leclerc ma belleeeeeeeeee
yourbsf Can I come
‷ charles_leclerc Am I the best friend
‷ yourbsf oh fuck you
charles_leclerc Your caption is funny, I love it
‷ yn thanks sharlie đ„čđ„čđ„čâ€ïžâđ©č
june 13, 2023
| yukitsunoda0511 has requested to follow you! 1h
| pierregasly has requested to follow you! 1h | landonorris has requested to follow you! 1h | carlossainz55 has requested to follow you! 1h
| fernandoalo_oficial has requested to follow you! 1h
| francisca.cgomez has requested to follow you! 1h
| carmenmmundt has requested to follow you! 1h
you just accepted 7 requests
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 30 others
yn SOOO PROUD!!!! CHARLES CAME BACK AND IS NOW A WORLD CHAMPION IM SHAKING?! CONGRATS TO FERRARI ON BEING GETTING WORLD CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP AS WELL IM SHAKING
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charles_leclerc Could not have done this without you, chérie
‷ yn love u sm babyyyyyâïž im scared though why are half the grid following me back (i ofc accepted)
‷ landonorris because he just ranted to us for TWO HOURS (he always does but for a few mins) about you and how amazing you are, mate! Had to see what the fuss was about
‷ charles_leclerc Thanks, Lando.
‷ yn IM GOING TO CRYYYY LOVEU SHARL
francisca.cgomez Youâre such a beauty!!! Loved seeing you todayđ Congrats, Charles!
october 22, 2023
charles_leclerc
liked by yn, and 8,559,282 others
charles_leclerc Another post about the Championship but this time for the person beside me who motivated me the most. My beautiful girlfriend, @yn, you are my everything. I love you more than you love pastaâ€ïž
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yn good morning?????????????????? WHAT
yn YOU DID THISBALL YOURSELF IM SO PROUD OF YOU LFG
‷ yn ball
‷ yncha16 AHAHAHAHAH SHES SO SILLY
‷ charles_leclerc Without you, I wouldnât push myself! So technically, you helped. ‷ yn id do it again ml
ynsbabe yn public when
‷ yn when sharl learns how to cook pasta đšâđł
‷ charles_leclerc Goodluck @ynsbabe
october 23, 2023
#SOF : are we feelin a part 2 ??? #FUTURE SOF: pt2!
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagines#formula 1#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc 16#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagines
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You're losing me pt.2
pt. 1 pt.3
TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst
The liquor on his tongue didnât even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didnât know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many waysâdisgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldnât wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didnât go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.
"âânother onâ,"Â he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.
"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didnât have any worry in her life.
"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."
"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."
"IÂ dinnae remember yesterday."
"What a shame."
He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."
"No."
"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology,"Â she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?
"No."
"Please, a drink won't kill you."
"IÂ said no."
"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."
"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"
"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.
While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isnât able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."
Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.
"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.
"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.
"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldnât happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.
"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesnât take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.
All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didnât pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.
**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.
**Medic:** ;)
Fuck.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ-
4 am and you still couldnât sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you werenât sure if he would pick up, but he did.
"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.
"Why did you do this, John?"Â you sobbed.
"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."
"Then why didn't you say sorry?"
"Love."
"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.
"I'm sorry; it was an accident."
"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."
"Iâ"
"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasnât what you expected. Why doesnât he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didnât Simon say something? Why didnât Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why donât they care?
If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.
And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didnât know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.
"Captain, Iâ"
"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."
"Captainâ"
"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.
#cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#call of duty#captain john price#john price#tf 141 x reader#cod mwii#tf 141#simon ghost riley#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soapghost#soap cod#soap x reader#141#ghoap#ghost call of duty#ghost#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#captain john price smut#task force 141#tf141#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader
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Your daughter has lice so you shave her gross head, & on the back of her head you find a QR code, clearly not tattooed on (She was born with a full head of hair and never got it cut more than a trim until now, no opportunity for anyone to sneak a tattoo in) but clear as day, with crisp lines, no redness so clearly its been there for a while. So you take a photo of it and post it to facebook asking what that is what's going on why is it there and all your friends from church start messaging you directly, saying some pretty awful, out of character stuff. Warning you not to scan the fucking code. Dont scan the fucking code you god damned bastard. Do not. So you don't, cause you're scared. And you put her to sleep without telling her anything, with a head covered in mayo youre gonna wash out the next morning I know its thursday night but you know what, let's, lets get you a three day weekend. Okay? Okay daddy. Love you. Goodnight. Woken up at like 12 am by the sound of your door being smashed in, you see men in riot gear breaking your shit down, breaking all your shit, and you can't fucking stop them. Two of them are grabbing you. Grabbing you hard, holding you down but you can see more of them coming into your house. You see them go upstairs to your daughters bedroom, and drag her out as she screams but they cover her mouth and shes hitting and kicking them and biting their hands but theyre so armored and strong it doesnt even matter. It doesnt matter. And as you see this going down you try to scream but the men restraining you put a dirty cloth in your mouth and you start gagging, choking. And your eyes are bloodshot. Youre crying hot tears. And once you see them drag your daughter out the doors and load your her into a van the two men holding you nod at eachother, before one turns towards you and starts strangling you until you pass out while the other holds a finger to his ear and starts talking, but you can't hear, you cant read his lips...
& you wake up the next morning with your heart pounding, and a gross feeling in your mouth. And you immediately run up the stairs to see your daughter sleeping peacefully in her bed, still bald. Mayo on her head. Mayo smeared on her pillowcase from rolling over. So you rustle her awake. Hey sweetpea. Are you, are you feeling alright? How are you feeling. And she groans and asks if you were serious about not taking her to school today. All sleepy still... Yeah. I meant it.. Lets wash that mayo off.. Come on.. You lead her to the shower and start rinsing.. But there's no QR code. No QR code anywhere. You log onto facebook and check what you posted... Back-of-head pic of your bald daughter, no QR code. Check the comments, its your church friends. Ha! Did someone get lice? oh, that sounds terrible. praying for smooth recovery. Why is she bald? Why did you do this? Is this some kind of joke? Oh, lice. Tell her I send good luck.... All the people who messaged you yesterday. You check your messages. Wiped. Nothing.
Your front door is intact. The shit the men smashed is still there. There's no blood anywhere. You're not bruised. Did you just fucking imagine all that? You pace around but something close to the cieling catches your eye,
a smear of mayo
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MUG CAKE CRISIS â F. READER x GOJO SATORU
Every household has to face a crisis once in a while. Yours came at 2:48am and you had to sweeten your husband's way into peace again.
cw: good old fluff â 0,9k words
Every household has to face some kind of crisis once in a while. Some deal with children â the tantrums or cries that keep the parents awake and as they are forced out of their dreams and expected to face whatever it is that makes their little ones so sad, all of the monsters underneath the beds, the nightmares and fears, they simply take it head on. Thatâs what makes parents the heroes of their children lifeâs. Other people deal with partners or the opposite, the loneliness. Sometimes the walls hear things no one else shouldnât. Arguments, screams and sounds of heated intimacy. There are different types of crises and your house is no foreign to that concept.
You woke up to the soft thuds coming from somewhere in the apartment. The whiney sounds following the, what you figured out to be, furniture noises gave you enough reason to get up from the bed. There was a crisis in your house happening right now, at 2:48am and you couldnât just let it be, so you wrapped yourself in a blanket, too sleepy to put on clothes on your bare body, slipped into your slippers and padded to the kitchen.
The view that met your eyes was endearing in a way. Gojo Satoru, your husband and a man you love to the extent of infinity, was in the kitchen, wearing only boxers that he probably put on in a rush, because they were turned to the left side, with seams and tag on show. He was frantically ramming through every cabinet, every drawer, every little basket and bowl that could possibly hide something. There was a mess around him, boxes laying around gutted and empty, some doors half-open and most of the things on the countertop moved from their original place creating the overwhelming sense of disorder. But that was a problem for tomorrow, now you had to take care of the man-child strongest sorcerer.
âSatoru, baby,â you called him, but he was too focused on his hunt to even look at you.
âGo back to sleep, love,â he mumbled and you yawned onto the plushy fabric of your blanket. You approached him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face to his bare back.
âNo sweets?â, you cooed, knowing perfectly how the one and only addiction of your husband can wake him at night. Satoru doesnât drink, he doesnât smoke and he only occasionally takes a sip from your coffee, but one thing heâs unable to give up, is sugar. He consumes so much of it, youâre in awe that he still has all of his teeth and in great health as well, and all of his blood tests normal, because you were sure that if you were the one who ate so much caramel, chocolate and whipped cream, youâd probably be dead before your teeth start to rot.
âCan you believe it?â he whined, audibly trying to force his voice to sound soft and calm, but you knew him better than that. He was tensed, soo annoyed, his heart was beating fast as if he was slowly falling into the state of panic, and you exhaled against his skin, hand smoothing over his stomach as you pressed your lips to his spine.
âTold you we need to go get groceries yesterday.â
âYouâre not helping, y/n.â
âOh, my poor husband. Sit down, Iâll make you something, how does it sound?â
He hummed in defeat, desperate to have anything sweet and so he sat down on the chair, as you quickly combined flour, cocoa, sugar and the one almost dying banana that had been laying there for a little too long. Some milk, vanilla extract and baking powder got mixed into the batter as well, and when the concoction was ready, you put it in the microwave.
Mug cakes became your saving grace for hard times like this one, when your husband would wake up in the middle of the night craving something sweet. Some might say, heâs a grown adult, he can manage without eating chocolate in the middle of the night. Well, no. Satoru is a baby trapped inside the 6â3 tall, muscular body, and heâd definitely throw a tantrum if his needs wonât be fulfilled. There was a time he almost teared up when the realization of his stashes being empty hit him.
Over the hot, steaming cake you scooped the last bits of vanilla ice cream that hid in the back of the freezer, away from his sweet tooth because you kept it for the time your period comes and you even managed to squeeze out a little bit of toffee sauce from the lonely bottle in the fridge. Yawning once again, you presented the masterpiece to your beloved man-child, with a spoon and he gathered you to sit on his lap, making sure you are tucked tightly into the blanket.
âI love you, you know that,â he mumbled against your forehead, before pressing his lips there.
âLove you too,â you smiled and lowered your head to rest it on his shoulder, while he began devouring the dessert you made him. You felt his body relaxing as the sugar saturated his bloodstream and you relaxed too, melting against his warm form and knowing that heâs once again happy.
ââm sorry I woke you up at that hour,â he whispered, when after catering his cravings, he carried you back to the bed.
You smiled, cuddling to his chest just few moments later. Oh, how much you love that man. So much, you were okay with getting up at nearly 3 am only to make him a mug cake.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru imagines#gojo imagines#gojo satoru#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen#satoru gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo#satoru#satoru x reader#satoru imagines#gojo imagine#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x you fluff#gojo x reader fluff#satoru fluff#jjk gojo
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