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#always going to be that scar. ''Are they going to hurt me
viinieroxide · 3 days
Text
—seven days. [ vii ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
author's note: that's it folks. welcome to the end. peace out (my hand is hurting like a bitch) NOT EDITED NOT BETA READ EXCUSE THE MISTAKES
tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm i hope i didn't forget anyone
max: ANSWER ME
max: [NAME] I SWEAR TO GOD
max: I’LL FLY TO TEXAS RIGHT NOW I SWEAR
max: THIS IS ALL FUN AND GAMES FOR YOU ISNT IT
max: YOU FUCK ME AND THEN YOU LEAVE
max: YOU'RE ALL FUCKING THE SAME ALWAYS LEAVING ME
max: FUCK YOU [NAME]
max: TALK TO ME YOU COWARD
max: EXPLAIN YOURSELF
max: IM GOING INSANE HERE
Max has visited your apartment a total of two times since he’s given you the keys. The first time—Max remembers it was in early January 2020. You held a housewarming party disguised as a little lunch get-together as a thank-you for his gift. Daniel and him as well as two of your former roommates, Max recognizes them as Julia and Kendall from the PR team, are the only ones invited. You cooked pasta. Your mother’s recipe, you claimed. It easily became one of Max’s favorite dishes in the world and he requests you to cook it from time to time.
The second time, Max remembers going there again after the Monaco Grand Prix 2021. It’s been only a week after your breakup with Leo and four races before the incident with the Hamilton fan in Silverstone. The team holds a dinner to celebrate Max taking P1 and usually, you’re present in these types of things—the after parties and team dinners and all forms of team celebrations in general because you like celebrations but you're nowhere to be found.
Max finishes dinner quickly and excuses himself to Horner. He grabs a beer and drives himself to your apartment, because he knows you’re definitely not staying in the hotel with the team.
When you’re sad, you tend to hide away. It's an annoying habit. You make it your career to dig your nose into everyone’s problem—Max’s most especially—and provide everyone with the help you can offer. It's your love language, Max thinks, to be insanely helpful to everyone but the moment that the places switch and you’re the one who needs help, you run away because you refuse to bother everyone else with your problems despite the amount of people who are willing to return the favor you gave them in the past. It is very hypocritical of you.
He knocks on your door. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him. It's an established pattern, a system that works for both of you. You shout for him to wait and Max does so, observing the details of the woodwork in front of him as he waits patiently for you. You have a very nice door.
You open the door. Max’s brows raised slightly at the sight of you. You're still in your Red Bull polo shirt but instead of the pencil skirt you were wearing during the race, you wore short shorts instead. Black, fitted, and they stop a little above your mid-thighs. You're barefoot, too. No YSL heels in sight.
Max turns into a lovely shade of pink. You don't notice it.
You have long legs despite being 5’5” only, which gives off the illusion that you’re very tall when you're actually not. Your body ratio consists of seventy-five percent legs and twenty-five percent upper body. You have lean legs. It's full of childhood scars—thin white lines that are barely noticeable because of how old they are. You have well-built calves and dainty ankles, which look weird but also look right, and your feet are veiny, jagged lines of green blue on skin. Max thinks it's because you wear heels every day.
“Somethin’ wrong, man?” your voice sounds nasal, hoarse, and deep at the same time. Your eyes and nose are red and Max knows full well that you’ve been crying over Leo again and yet you carry yourself as if you're fine, standing in front of him with your shoulders straightened and your tone professional.
Max never liked the bitterness that washes over him whenever he sees you with Leo. But at that moment, he’ll rather endure the bitterness that chokes him until he thinks he’s about to pass out if that makes you alright, if that makes you stop crying.
“I have beer.”
It's a lame thing to say. He should have said something better. He should have asked if you’re alright, should have asked why you were crying, should have asked if there's anything you need him to do just so you’ll feel better. But his mind blanks and he just thrusted the beer forward.
You smile, shaking your head. You take the beer from his hands gratefully, “I have pasta. Wanna go in?”
It's a fair trade. You love beer. He loves your pasta. And so, he entered your apartment.
He faces your door for the third time in 2023. A million thoughts run around his brain per second as his eyes train on the wood patterns of your front door. Dread pools in his stomach as he holds the door knob. He only holds it, not twisting it and pushing it open just yet.
Max is stalling. He knows that. He shouldn't be stalling. He knows that, too.
He dreads what's waiting for him on the other side of the door. He can hear your voice in the back of his skull, saying, “Pussy. You risk your life and drive a rocket ship for a livin’ and you’re afraid of openin’ a damn door?”
Max takes a deep breath and opens the door. Silence and emptiness greets him.
Your apartment has always been bare. You refuse to buy carpets, curtains, houseplants, decorative furnishings or anything that can make your loft apartment seem like someone actually lives there.
(“It's expensive here,” you said.
“I’ll pay,” Max offered.
“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll just bring something from home.”
You never did.)
Max’s feet lead him to your living room. Dust accumulates on top of your glass coffee table and couch. Max remembers them coming along when he bought the apartment. You never got them changed.
His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the familiar looking box that sits atop the coffee table. He strides towards it, head tilting to read the little pink sticky note attached to it. It reads: Sorry Max, I can't steal more from Kelly.
Max’s entire world crumbles down. He opens the shoe box and sees the shoe, arranged carefully in place.
He hurriedly reaches for the folder next to it and reads the writings inside.
Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.
Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.
I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024.
Max keeps re-reading the last two sentences just to make sure he’s reading it correctly.
I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager.
I resigned, Max.
resigned.
Max hurls the shoe box and it zooms in the air and hits the wall. He fists his hair and pulls. A scream erupts in his throat. The neighbors are going to file a noise complaint but Max cannot bring himself to care. He’s the one whose heart is breaking here.
He grabs the folder. Max feels something fall on his foot. He looks down.
A beaded bracelet. Navy blue and red—the color of Red Bull. There are three white beads in the bracelet and on those three white beads are the letters M and V—his initials—and the number 1—his current number.
Max drops on his knees. He picks up the little thing with trembling hands. He brings the bracelet to his chest and Max falls apart. This time, you’re not here to hold him together.
max: hey im planning to visit the US
max: do you think you can show me around?
Logan Sargeant is a good driver. That's a given. It's his profession. But the way he drives; it's making Max sleepy.
“So….” Logan begins awkwardly. “I’m assuming you're visiting Texas because of [Name].”
Max nods, “Yeah.”
“You're not mad at her, are you?” Logan asks. “For resigning?”
“She told you?”
So you told the American boy but not him? Max cannot help but be offended now.
“Well, I kinda assumed? Liam mentioned it to the other day, who heard the news from his cousin.”
Max’s brows furrow.
“Lawson?”
“Yes, Lawson.”
Max remembers the kid all too well. Liam Lawson has overtaken him in Singapore after all. It's embarrassing. Watch out, Max, you teased him. Liam’s out to get you.
“Liam probably heard it from Leo.”
“Leo?”
Logan is mentioning too many names. Well, it’s just two but two is still many for his brain to comprehend right now.
“Yeah, Leo and Liam are cousins.”
Max pauses.
“Leo and [Name] still talk so I guess [Name] told Leo, who must have mentioned it to Liam, who then mentioned it in the groupchat with me and Osc—are you okay?”
Max tries his hardest not to scream.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. “I’m fine. How far are we from Austin?”
They drive past a sign that says “Welcome to Austin.”
“Well, it looks like we’ve just arrived.”
Max is once again offended that Logan knows where you live while he doesn't. Vista Del Pueblo, Logan tells him the name of the place as they hop off the car. It's funny how close you lived from the Circuit of the Americas. No wonder you always requested to be home after the Austin GP before flying off to the next city.
The two-storey yellow and red brick house is empty. Despite that, it looks like a perfect picture of a happy childhood home. The backyard and the patio is wide. Beside the driveway stands an olden tree. Below the tree is a reclining chair that looks like it has gone through a dust storm and a thousand rains.
“It’s empty,” Max announces. Logan nods.
“Yeah.”
Logan ends up approaching an old woman in the neighboring house who was sweeping dust off her porch and asks her if she knows the [Last Name] family’s whereabouts.
“They haven't returned home since Christmas,” she replies. “Everyone in the neighborhood tried contacting them but no one got through. Ever since Julio died… It's like the entire family followed after him.”
Max and Logan stiffen, shocked at the news that's just been revealed.
Julio died….?
Max needs to find you. Urgently. He needs to see if you're okay.
The sun retires for the night and Max decides that it's time for Logan and him to retire as well. Logan drives them to a hotel and Max pays for two rooms despite Logan insisting that he can pay for his own. They grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, in a private area that Max paid for.
“You’re not angry at her, aren't you?” Logan asks for the second time that day. His plate is half empty. Meanwhile, Max’s plate is barely touched. His appetite significantly decreased. He keeps thinking about you, worried about how you're coping with Julio’s death. You are never the best person when it comes to dealing with pain. Physical pain, you can handle. You’re barely fazed when you burn your hand in the oven, when you hit your hip at the corner of the table, when you accidentally get scratches and you don't even notice it until someone points out the blood that terrifyingly drips down your arm. Max can still remember how you dealt with your breakup with Leo. All those nights crying, the unhealthy fixation in work so you won't have any space feeling human emotions, the moments where you disconnect with reality that Max has to pull you out of many times. The death of a father is a million times worse than a breakup. Max imagines a thousand scenarios in his mind. He needs to be with you right now. He needs to make sure you're alright.
“I hope you're not. You obviously are but I still hope you're not,” Logan continues. “She was always going to leave, you know? She told me in January. She told me that she needs to—
Max accidentally throws the glass of water he was holding. It falls onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the room. Logan stares at Max with his eyes wide. A cleaning crew comes in a hurry and cleans it up. Max doesn't apologize, he only says, “send me the bill later” and sends the crew out. He turns to Logan.
“She needs to what?”
“You're angry.”
You reminded me, Max said in his mind.
“And?” Max raises his brow. “She needs to what?”
Logan lets out a shaky breath, “She needs to become an engineer or else she’ll never forgive herself.”
Manager. Engineer. What's so damn special about that engineering position anyway? Why are you so hell bent on leaving Max? Red Bull pays you more than an engineer. Hell, Max is even willing to raise your salary to the same amount as half of his annual salary in Red Bull if it keeps you from leaving him. Max is willing to pay for your student loans and refund everything you paid to USC during your college years.
Max pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. He’s feeling too many emotions all at once.
“I think it's best if you talk to Leo?” Logan suggests. Max appreciates that he’s trying to be helpful but mentioning Leo brings nothing but more anger in him. Fucking Leo. Why does he know where you are? He’s your fucking ex for god’s sake. Why are you even still talking to your ex? “He’s close with [Name]. I think he can help you.”
Max contemplates.
He doesn't want to ask fucking Leo.
And he’s not that desperate to seek help from him.
Logan writes his number on a table napkin. Max pockets it.
After dinner, Max sits inside his hotel room. He dials the number Logan gave him because if he’ll tell you where you are, he can swallow his pride for a day. It takes three redials and two rings before Leo answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Leo Stark?”
“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Max Verstappen.”
Silence.
“Hello, are you still there?”
Max hears a loud crash followed by a series and a whole lot of ruffling, “Sorry about that. Do you mind repeating that?”
“Max Verstappen.”
“Ah, so I’m not hearing things. I thought I was hearing things. Sorry. Do you wish to talk to James Vowles? I can transfer the call to him.”
“No,” Max says. “I want to talk to you. It's about [Name].”
“Oh.” A pause. “You're going to ask me where she is, aren't you?”
“You're smart.”
“Well, mate, too bad. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t?”
“I can’t,” he echoes. “I mean I can but I won’t.”
“So you know where she is.” It's not a question. Something bitter rears its ugly head in his stomach. His bitterness and anger now dwarf his worry for you in size. Fuck Logan for reminding him that you always wanted to leave. Fuck Leo for knowing where you are.
“I’m going to ask again and you better give me the answer I want. Where is she?”
“The answer you want?” Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s always what you want. Have you considered what she wants? Does [Name] even want you to find her?”
“You don't know what you're talking about—”
“I do,” Leo interrupts and the way he sounds so sure of himself aggravates Max. “I do, mate. Believe it or not.”
“I see what's happening here,” Max sneers. “I’ve heard you and [Name] broke up because she was prioritizing me over you. Is this it? Are you doing this out of petty jealousy?”
Leo sighs, “You’re making this about you again.”
Max opens his mouth to retort but Leo cuts him off, “Let me get this straight with you, mate. When we were still dating, not once have I been jealous of you. I understood that she works for you and that she has to put you first in certain situations. After all, you’re her job. I’m just the home she returns to after work.”
Max’s jaw clenches. Leo was her home. It was the truth no matter how much Max hated it. Leo does not stop there.
“I have no issue with her focusing on you. The only problem I have with it is her tendency to focus more on you than herself. If you come to her at a very vulnerable time, especially now, there’s a chance that she’s going to focus on you again. She deals with grief in a very unhealthy way and I don't want her to do that. Not when she needs to properly grieve for her father.”
Leo sighs again.
“So please, mate, just this once. Think about what she needs right now and it’s not you.”
You don't need Max.
But Max needs you.
That is one of the most painful truths he’s ever been given.
“She’ll come back. She always does. It may take months. Years, even. Just… Let her grieve and let her pick herself up. There are people who don't want help because they need to do it themselves or else it won't feel fulfilling. [Name] is no different. Also, I’ll be honest with you, mate. I don't want you coming to her before she achieves her dreams. You’re so used to [Name] giving you everything you want that you forgot that she, too, is someone who needs and wants and dreams. She just wanted to be an engineer.”
“And how is this my fault?”
“You knew what she wanted. You agreed to help her achieve it. You didn't allow her to move to Renault. You told her that you’ll ask your team principal after you win and you did win but you didn't keep your end of the bargain.”
“I—”
“Who are you to control her dreams? If you love her, you would have asked Horner, at least. She knows you never asked Horner. Maybe she would have never resigned if you tried to talk to Horner, but you let your selfishness win.”
Max feels all breath punched out of his lungs.
“You had the power to ask your team principal yet you didn't and she has to watch you achieve your dreams while she can't. Unfair, don’t you think?”
A pause.
“Just start considering what she feels, mate. That's all.”
“I am considering her. Always.” This is the closest to a love declaration he can admit out loud. The purest form of love is consideration, they say. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel, pays attention to detail, holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you, keeps promises so you won’t be disappointed, that's when you know they love you.
“Are you really?”
Is he really?
“Take care of her for me, Verstappen. Even from afar. You can do that.”
The call ends.
Max stares blankly at the wall, still holding his phone against his ear. Then, he hurls it across the room. He aggressively drags his hand through his face.
Max flies back to Belgium after Austin to spend the rest of his off-season with his mother and sister. He apologizes to Logan for his behavior. Logan is a kind man, he forgives easily. He drives Max to the airport.
The next day, an article is posted, titled—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN.
On New Year's Eve, Kelly messages Max. He can't say that he’s surprised. In truth, he’s been expecting her to message him, whether it's to beg to take her back or to curse him out or to tell him something about Penelope or it's to inform him that she's going to pick up her things in Max’s penthouse in Monaco.
kelly: i sent someone to pick up our things in your place
max: okay
kelly: also
kelly: *sent a photo*
kelly: she apologized for something that's not her fault
kelly: you have a good one
The photo is a screenshot of Kelly’s conversation with you, dated December 30. That was yesterday.
you: sorry about the breakup
you: i didn't know about the shoes
you: i didn't take it
you: im so sorry
you: i hope you're not too hurt
kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you
kelly: take care of him for me
you: thank you for loving him
you: but i can’t do what you're asking
you: not anymore
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Max looks up to see his mother’s worried face.
“Oh, uh,” he closes his phone and almost drops it. Fucking clumsy fingers, fucking messages, fucking pain. “Nothing, Mum.”
His mother does not look convinced.
“You know you can tell me anything, right? No need to hide it. You may be a world champion now but you’ll always be my baby,” she says. “What does [Name] always say? Even champions are allowed to cry.”
At the mention of you, Max looks away.
“Tell me. Is it Kelly?”
The last time Max cried in his mother’s arms was when he was eleven. Jos always said boys should never cry. That boys who cry are weak. And weak people do not become champions. Max wanted to be a champion so he never allowed himself to be weak. Weakness only becomes a weakness if it is known so he learned to bottle it up over the years and all the bottled grief became anger. Hence, the birth of his serious anger issues.
He’s twenty-seven now with three WDC titles under his belt. He’s outgrown both of his parents in terms of physical size and in career accomplishments but when his mother’s arms wrapped around him, he allowed himself to become a little boy again. He allowed himself to be weak.
“She left me, Mum,” Max whispers, hugging her mother close. Sophie rubs his back in soothing circles.
“You’ll find someone, Max,” his mother assures.
“I don't want someone else,” he says. “I want [Name].”
“Oh.”
Sophie blinks.
“Max, you—”
“Please, don't make me say it, Mum,” Max pleads, squeezing his eyes shut. A lone tear drips down his cheek. “Don't make me say I’m in love with [Name].”
Max sends an email to Christian that he’s not going to take a manager in 2024. Christian tells him it's a bad idea, that he needs a manager because he’s becoming busy with his schedules and everyone wants a piece of time with the third-time world driver’s champion but Max cannot care less. If it’s not you, he’d rather have no one at all.
Max wants to learn how to get used without you on his side. He did a little reflecting over pre-season and realized how he had become so dependent on you. He learns the functions of a Google calendar and how to use a Notion page.
Max just knows 2024 is going to be a shitty year for him.
Bahrain, Max remembers, is your favorite track. He doesn't know why you like Bahrain. Bahrain is hot. Bahrain is not as exciting as other race tracks. Personally, he prefers Spa-Francorchamps.
He also remembers that you like watching the air show. You never said it outright but you always have this smile on your face while watching the jets painting the sky with colors so Max kind of figured.
Max snaps a picture of the jets in the sky. He opens his Instagram and searches for your name in his message list. When he presses his conversation with you, the first thing that greets him is his spam of angry messages. All delivered, all unread. The last message, Max remembers, was sent when he visited Austin with Logan to search for you.
max: SO YOU TOLD LEO BUT NOT ME? DO I EVEN MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU?
His finger hovers on the send button. He lets out a sigh and he pockets his phone instead.
Daniel approaches Max after Max wins Jeddah.
“Hey, have you been talking to [Name]?” he asks.
“Not lately,” answers Max. Not since she left me, Max thinks.
Daniel scratches his nape. “I think she's angry at me.”
“You’ve been talking?”
Now, Max is offended. So you talked to Leo, you talked to Kelly, you talked to Daniel, but you made no effort to talk to him? When was he going to get a message from you?
“Well, I kinda…” Daniel pulls out his phone. “I just checked up on her? And she replied like a week later. She sounds kinda angry? I don't know. Do you think she sounds angry?”
Daniel shows Max his last conversation with [Name].
daniel: hey!
daniel: heard from max what happened
daniel: we miss you! you should visit come by in bahrain! the opening is gonna be sick
you: can't sorry
daniel: aww how about jeddah
daniel: i’ll fly you out don't worry about traveling commercial
you: idk man
you: might be too much noise and distraction for you
you: good luck in jeddah tho
A very passive aggressive reply.
“Yeah, she is,” Max supplies.
Max wins Bahrain. Max wins Jeddah. Australia, on the other hand, is a funny story. First, the Williams team pulls an annoying move. Poor Logan. He had to give his car to his teammate and sit out of the race.
Max visits him after the news was officially announced. He finds the American racer in his driver room, sitting sadly on the bed with his head bent low, after asking a rookie Williams mechanic, who trembled at the sight of him.
It's a pitiful looking room. Max has a villa for a driver room. Logan doesn't even have a closet for his overalls, just a rack held together by hopes and dreams. The bed is so tiny and narrow that Max is sure he wouldn't even fit if he lies in there unless he assumes a tight fetal position.
“You’re here,” Logan stands from the bed, eyes wide in surprise. He hasn’t expected Max to visit him out of all the people in the grid. Not even his own teammate performed that courtesy. “Uh, I don't have anything. Here, have my seat. Do you want me to grab—”
“It's fine,” Max holds his palm up. “Sit back down, Logan.”
Logan slowly sits back down and moves to the side so Max can have a space to sit on. Max occupies Logan’s given space beside him. Their shoulders and elbows are touching.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Logan nods.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Max nods, but he doesn't believe him. Comfortable silence wraps the entire room. It lasted less than five minutes.
“You should break the car,” Max suggests seriously. “So no one can drive it, too.”
A soft laugh escaped Logan’s throat.
The door swings open and enters Leo, who freezes when he sees Max Verstappen sitting next to Logan. He looks at the two F1 drivers then back in his hand, where he was holding a large Stanley cup and two styro cups.
“Great, I only brought two cups,” he says, kicking the door behind him to close it. “Should have told me the world champion is coming. I would have brought the expensive wine.”
“What do you have there?”
“Beer,” Leo lifts the Stanley cup and gives it a small shake. “Transferred it to a Stanley cup so no one would notice.”
“James wouldn’t be happy,” says Logan, frowning.
“We’re not happy with him either,” Leo retorts, pouring the beer into the two cups. He hands one to Logan and another to Max.
“I suggested breaking his car,” Max inserts, accepting the cup. He still feels a bit weird to be hanging out with Leo like this. He’s angry still, but he’s not as angry as he was in Austin. Leo’s words, though Max would never admit it out loud, made sense. You left because of Max’s own selfishness. He was the one who had cut your wings and thought that his gesture was out of love when in fact, it was an action born out of his desperation and his fear of being left behind by you.
“Should I?” Leo humors his suggestion, shrugging his shoulders.
Logan sighs, shaking his head at the two. He can’t believe they're both older than him but still wield that petty immaturity.
“Please don't.”
Second, the RB20 has brake issues in Australia so Max ends up retiring in the middle of the race. Max hears everyone cheer at his retirement. That's when you know he’s good. When everyone wishes for his downfall. Everybody in Red Bull grows wary watching their prized driver stomp inside the garage, looking like he has a lot to say to the mechanics. His head is as hot as the burning car at the pit.
Max hears two people whispering amongst themselves:
“Mad Max is back.”
“Where's [Name] when you need her? He’s going to get blow up at us now.”
“[Name] really is a saintess because she’s the only one who can handle him when he’s angry.”
“I never appreciated her efforts before but I am now. I hope she never left.”
Max hopes she didn't, too. Out of all the people in Red Bull, he’s the one who wishes that she hasn't left the most. Now, he’s even angrier.
Max wins P1. If he doesn't, it's a DNF. The problem is the reliability of the car, not him. Never him.
He steps foot in Austin soil again on October 15th for the 19th race of the season, eager to win another P1 and increase his chance of snatching his fourth consecutive world driver’s championship title.
Fortunately, the RB20 doesn't fail him mid-race. The Dutch national anthem is heard all around the Circuit of the Americas and Max retires to the garage, too tired for any form of celebration. He wants to change out of his racing gear. He still has to fix his Google calendar and check out a few things in his Notion page. Who knew being your own manager can be so tiring?
Kendall comes by, a camera in hand. She snaps a quick picture, only one take because she knows Max hates taking pictures. Max believes you mentioned it to her before and has asked her to take the pictures quickly so he wouldn't get annoyed. You were always too thoughtful, always mindful of the little details. Perhaps, it was why he fell in the first place.
Max pivots on his heels to leave after he hears the camera click.
“Oh Max,” Kendall stops him. “[Name] came by earlier. She said congratulations.”
Max entire world stops spinning. Everything else became a mass of white noise.
“Where's she?” Max demands.
“She left already, said she’s got somewhere to be—”
Max sprints to his driver room, grabs his keys and ran all the way to the parking lot where his car was parked, not minding the screams and the questioning stares he received from the people he ran past them to his car. His mind only focuses on one thing—he has to get to you.
He drives down to the familiar road that he and Logan drove in last December 2023. He's racing against time and like all races he'd participated in, he hopes to win. He hopes that he’ll be able to see you. Max arrives at the red and yellow brick house in Vista Del Pueblo, jogging up until the front door and knocking. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him.
No one answers. Max jogs up to the window at the front and peeks inside. The house is still empty as it had been in December.
Max's shoulders sagged.
He wasn't fast enough.
568 notes · View notes
weird-an · 2 days
Text
tw: homophobia
Jim drives Max home. She had been to the country fair with El. They are sitting on the backseat, high from the bunch of sweets they bought. The whole car smells like sticky caramel and cotton candy. Like childhood and good memories.
Max hugs El goodbye. El smiles at her and Jim is so fucking relieved. That she's got friends, that she can do what kids her ages do, that she can act normal like she can't kill a man just by thinking about it.
It only lasts a second. El freezes, grabs Max' hand before she can get out of the car.
"Jim," she says, voice wavering. "What's a... faggot?"
Jim frowns. When and why did she learn that word?
"A queer," he says, feeling uneasy. He isn't really prepared to talk about stuff like that in his car on a Saturday evening. "A person who… loves someone of the same gender. Don't use these words... It's not nice."
"Queer," El echoes. Shit. Max stares at her with wide eyes. More... guilty than surprised. "Is that bad?"
"No." Hopper shuffles in his seat. "Just... different."
Why are they talking about this?
El stares at Max' house. A line between her eyes.
"Billy is hurt. He thinks it's okay, because Neil is right about him," she says finally, like she's reciting a text she memorized.
"What?" Jim's mouth turns dry. "What happened?"
"What happens to faggots," El repeats, voice monotone and eyes distant. "Neil just wants to help."
Jim doesn't know shit about gay people. Jim didn't ever really think about them. But he knows about fathers whose help is nothing but wounds and scars and nightmares.
He's out of the car and bangs at the door.
"What's going on, Sheriff?" A stern looking man with a mustache is opening, a frown on his face. There's blood on his wedding ring, his hand on the door.
"You're not laying a hand on the kid," Jim yells and he can feel El's presence in the back of his mind, her fear and maybe that's what makes him pull Neil Hargrove by his collar. "Do you understand?"
"Sir, there has to be a misunderstanding-" Neil starts, but is shut up.
Jim has always been a hothead and he doesn't even remember raising his fist. He lets go of the other man.
Neil holds his nose.
"Oh, I understand fuckers like you," Jim spits. "I was raised by one."
He tries to peek into the dark of the house.
"Billy," he shouts.
Billy looks small next to his dad. His lip is split, eyes wide and he stares at Jim like he's a monster, Santa Claus or something similar unbelievable.
"Chief," he says. He's scared, Jim can see that. His hands are shaking.
"Your dad doesn't know shit. If he ever touches you again, call me. Do you understand?"
"O-okay." Billy nods, voice shaky.
Jim turns to the boy's father. "Not in my town," he spits. "Not Max, not Billy, no one."
He knows he can't save everyone, but he can at least try to protect some kids.
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forthevillains · 2 days
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Albert Wesker headcanons
[these will be purely my opinion on what he does and how he is in and outside of relationship. Also let me know if I should write NSFW headcanons too!]
~ Albert is not a very open person so it’s difficult to get to him in the first place. It’s not like he lacks emotions, but as he can get easily attached, he prefers to only interact with people he must and that stays professional
~ though if you managed to get through that tough facade of his, you’ve earned yourself a loyal ally, a partner, a friend. People always make him seem bad, but gladly you didn’t care and wanted to find out for yourself, determined to find out as much as you could about this mysterious guy. And Wesker really appreciates it, even though someone being so interested in him that much feels odd
~ he is still distant at the beginning of the relationship, but it slowly develops into something warm and intimate. You have to give the poor man time, he hasn’t been in a proper relationship in ages if ever at all
~ the definition of you fell first, he fell harder
~ also he’s an active pet name user, so it’s very rare for him to call you by your actual name, though the more he falls for you, the more common it is for him to actually do that. Definitely adds ‘my’ before he says any pet name when he’s talking to you, just to make it known that you are special
~ he very much prefers women younger than him for a mere reason of spending as much time with you as possible. He doesn’t age like a normal person and he needs someone who would meet him at the very end so that you could leave this world together. He also wouldn’t want you to stay behind, however if you were actually his age, he would surely take care of you and make sure you still feel beautiful despite getting old
~ with the relationship come the secrets that he was able to hide from you before you got together. It’s safe to say that this man is not really a green flag due to the scars his trauma left on him. He’s not good for you and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he’s aware (somewhere deep down)
~ Albert insisted that you two live together, he needs you by his side and even when it might come off as if he’s trying to just be controlling - he’s just very scared of either you running away or someone hurting you while he’s not there to protect you
~ when it comes to sleeping by his side, for the first few months he just sleeps on his side of the bed, leaving you enough space only until he’s deep asleep. Then he’ll subconsciously wrap his arms around your body, pulling you close and making a personal teddy bear out of you. He’s touch starved after all the years alone, so much that even if he tries to give you enough space, his body won’t let him do so. You better not tell him though, because he’d feel embarrassed. Just wait for him to do it consciously and enjoy it;)
~ he’s often busy meaning you’ll have to find a hobbies of your own inside the house
~ he’s very keen on taking care of you in his free time, especially your hair. It’s kind of a therapy to him, not just playing with it, but also washing or braiding, even dying it. He’s up to do all of that for you
~ when there’s something going on with him, he probably just leaves, so that he doesn’t bother you with his problems, but if you come to him, offering your love and affection, he’s up for it. He will gladly lay on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, closing his tired eyes. Might as well fall asleep in that position because the exhaustion would get to him
~ if you worked in Umbrella with him, then you’re aware of his plans for the future, though if you haven’t, he’s gonna keep you unaware for the rest of your life, feeding you with delusions he came up with. But don’t you worry, it won’t affect your relationship at all, he’s gonna make up for all the lies;)
~ he wouldn’t dare cry in front of you, if he ever cried at all. He’s not the type of person who would go cry to the corner, he usually overcomes the sadness with anger, so good luck calming him down
~ Wesker is actually a really good cook! He doesn’t have much time for it, of course, but when he does, he makes you delicious meals (he really likes to spoil you)
~ speaking of spoiling… His favorite thing to buy you is lingerie, without a doubt. It’s just a bad habit of his, whenever he sees something you’d look good in (which is everything in his eyes), he just has to buy it for you and then watch you try it on knowing that it’s going to end up torn apart in less than a week. He tries not to do so, but he’s so eager to have you at times he just rips your clothes off:( so he buys new new ones quite often
~ he often comes home too late, finding you asleep on the couch as you were waiting for him for too long. His heart aches at the thought of someone being so excited just to see him, of someone actually caring about him and loving him as he knows how much of a risk he’s putting you in just by being with you. He would come up to you, gently taking you in his arms and carrying you to bed. He wouldn’t join you anytime soon, but he’d definitely stop by just to look at your peaceful, sleeping form, wondering just why on earth did you choose him
~ loves it when you sit on his lap while he’s working or even while he’s just reading a book. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, while he holds a pen/documents/book in the other. Your presence is very important to him, he loves touching you, feeling you. He needs you and having you so close brings him enough comfort to let loose (and if you’d look up at him you’d probably see a tiny smile on his face)
~ absolutely loves listening to you. Even when he’s exhausted after a very bad day, he’ll pull you close to him, asking you how your day went and just lets you talk, only reassuring you that he’s still listening whenever you stop. Your voice is comforting to him and it’s his way of relaxation, to just be close to you and listen
~ underrated opinion, but in my eyes he’d hate smoking. It’s basically killing you, so why would you do that? If you’re a smoker, he’ll ask you to stop, but won’t do anything against it if you tolerate that he doesn’t want you to do it inside the house. He’s still annoyed whenever you light up a cig though
~ he likes it when you take his sunglasses and try them on. It always gets him to smile for some unknown reason as he watches you giggle, happy that you have a thing of his in your possession, even if for just a few minutes
~ secretly, his dream is to settle down and live a life he never got to have. He’s just a broken man after all and having you gave him a different view on life. Of course, he still wants to save the world (in his own ways), but he also wishes he got to have a peaceful life by your side, seeing you smile everyday, traveling across the world if you’d like to. He wished he could be the perfect man just for you
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Trust
part 9 of DLM ao3
After the stew was done and Danny got out of the shower they all sat down to eat. They ate in silence for a while neither one of the bats wanting to push Danny into feeling uncomfortable, but Jason had a question he wanted to ask. He probably should have asked earlier, but he’ll blame it on the shock for not thinking of it sooner.
“Hey, Danny?”
“Yeah?” Danny said, setting his spoon down.
“How did you know it was me?”
Danny tilted his head and squinted, “What do you mean?”
Jason gestured with his spoon, off to the side Dick was watching them, his gaze analytical. “I mean, how did you know the guy in a red helmet was me?”
“Oh.” Danny settled and picked up his spoon again, through a mouthful of soup he answered, “It wuz th’ same ectoplasmic signature.”
Jason stared. He glanced at Dick, but he also looked confused.
Across from them Danny paused and glanced between them warily. He stared at Dick for a moment before turning to Jason. “Like I mentioned before, we’ve both been… death touched. And when someone’s been death touched a bit of ectoplasm gets incorporated into their system, the amount of ectoplasm varies depending on the situation. But when ectoplasm binds with a person it develops its own unique chemical signature. You can think of it like DNA. Ghosts and some machines can sense the differences, so when I came across Red Hood, I could sense that it was you.”
“Huh.” Jason said unable to come up with anything else in the face of discovering that he gave of what probably amounted to his own unique radioactive signal.
“And you said some machines can track this?” Dick asked. Jason was thankful that his brother was here because he wasn’t sure if he was up for asking all the necessary questions.
Danny looked hesitant again and looked at jason.
Jason nodded at him and Danny looked a little reassured.
“Yeah. There are a few. That’s how the GIW are tracking me. I don’t think they were around Jason enough to latch onto his ecto-signature so you shouldn’t need to be worried about them tracking you down. Gotham has plenty of low level ghosts so their scanners should be pretty muddled. But that’s also why I should go. My signature is stronger than the shades of Gotham and They know how to track it. I don’t want to give you any more trouble.”  Daanny wasn't looking at either of them, instead he was completely focused on stirring his stew.
Jason and Dick glanced at each other.
“Hey, Danny, look at me.” Jason said.
It took a bit, but eventually Danny looked up.”
Jason smiled slightly, “I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I?”
Danny looked away, biting his lip. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”
Jason reached across the table and placed his hand over one of Danny’s. “I’m Red Hood, kid, I can defend myself. And there are plenty of bats in Gotham who would love to help.”
“The GIW are different. They don’t care who they have to hurt to get what they want. They’ll just keep bringing in more agents until they get me.”
“Well then we’ll bring in the Justice League.” Jason said, Bruce would be okay with it if Jason told him it was to protect a kid. 
“I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. I won’t let you get hurt.” Danny said, shaking his head. 
Jason glanced over at his brother. Dick was always better with the emotional talk.
“We’re vigilantes Danny. We’ve been trained in defending ourselves and others.” Dick said.
“And they wouldn’t be able to take us down without causing people to go after them for attacking vigilantes.” Jason added.
Danny shook his head harder, he was staring at the table, his eyes slightly glossy. “They won’t care, they'll lie and say you were defending dangerous creatures, that you were being manipulated by evil ghosts.” Danny laughed bitterly. “Or they’ll claim you’re also contaminated and capture or exterminate you. They’ll do anything to get what they want.”
There was more to this, Jason knew. Something bad had happened to the kid, apart from the obvious scar, but now wasn’t the time to push for information. Right now, they needed to convince Danny to stay with them, to let them protect him.
Jason got up, walked around the table and crouched by Danny’s chair. “Kid, look at me.” Jason said gently. He waited till Danny did before continuing. “I know you’re scared,” Danny opened his mouth and Jason continued before he could argue, “and I know you’re worried about us getting hurt. But this is what we do. We fight to protect people. And there are a lot of powerful people on our side. And I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you before, I’m sorry we didn’t get to you in time in the past, but we’re here now. Together we can take down the GIW. Let us help you.”
Danny’s eyes started watering, and Jason reached up to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Then Jason was falling back as the kid launched himself at him. Jason held Danny as he started to sob. “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you.” Danny whispered as he cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
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There are sights I`d rather never see: Scar - a brand of shame upon my heart; Look of pain, dark as the stormy sea; Seat of swords that`s driving us apart.
There are truths I wish I`d known before: How fierce you are - have always been; What it takes for you to wage the war On the pain and grief you hold within.
There are words I`d rather never hear; And it hurts me that you`ll never know How much I hate the sword and spear That could take you where I cannot go.
There are thoughts I`d rather have unthought: So much time has passed since then but still I am yet to gain my grand reward - Your forgiveness - and I never will.
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anarchy-and-piglins · 19 hours
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you asked and I deliver (I am exceedingly partial to “there are hybrid hunters and they are an active threat” osmp settings so be forewarned)
He spends a long time making bolt holes and hideaways around the valley, stocking them with weapons and food. When confronted, he says they’re in case of emergency for if hunters find the valley. They’re actually for the worst case scenario (the hybrids finally get fed up with having a human in their midst and run him out of town like he thinks he deserves) the rest of the crew finally put together their actual purpose only after Ran and Tubbo get angry one day after he messes with one of their projects. They yell loud and long enough to drive him into a panic, he vanishes, and the crew have to organize a party to find him before the hunters do.
They find Techno in the woods a few months after noticing the hunter’s traps seem to be sabotaged without their intervention. He gets cornered by a group of hunters, gutted and left for dead, and they barely manage to keep him alive. Niki is the first one he sees when he wakes up. he compliments her hair, and she decides right then and there that he’s staying.
Techno grew up in a mixed hybrid family and when they were captured, suffered a lot of scarring. He spends the first few months of his time with the osmp crew pretending to be a hybrid with his hybrid features surgically removed, because he’s afraid they won’t accept him and he can’t go back to the humans who did that to him in the first place.
None of the crew think about how dangerous it is for someone who can’t fly, can’t breathe underwater, cant shrink, and can’t teleport to navigate the floating islands and high bases. Techno manages through sheer stubborn grit for a while before a nasty fall takes him out of commission for a month.
He’s painfully touch-starved for a really long time. It takes a lot of late nights and awkward hugs before Phil sees him staring at a preening circle longingly and realizes touch starvation is also a human thing. He now gets to participate and they play with his hair until he passes out.
he’s usually barefoot. He’s also always got a few knives on him.
Ranboo has a lot of hair jewelry and Techno borrows it regularly. He’s the only one that’s allowed.
Okay okay okay, I'm munching and crunching on these as if they are a bowl of little snacks for me
Ough that one is painful but so so accurate to Techno's character. I wouldn't be surprised if the hidey holes are kind of meant for both, though at the end of the day Techno figures for a long while the hybrids are a bigger threat to him than other humans just because his expectations are so low
HSKJSQJHSQJSQQS YES nice and whumpy, perfect human!Techno osmp backstory
We've been over this but human!Techno pretending to be a hybrid is always tasty
YEAH, I love the 'accidental whump through oversigh' thing so much. Nobody is actively trying to make the commune hostile to Techno, it just is by design and he's too stubborn to mention it until he gets seriously hurt hehe
hsqkhqjqssq UEUEUEUEUE yes
I feel like walking around barefoot is such a bad idea he's gonna lose some toes. Good for him tho!
Peerpressureduo my beloved, I think Ranboo used to have long hair and then cut it off at some point (maybe because long hair was a sign of enderman royalty and they're doing the whole 'disowned by my shitty family' thing). Their hair is now a little above shoulder lenght and they still wear a lot of hair jewelry, but they love braiding Techno's hair and making it pretty and such. It's like, recontextualising something that used to be painful because it reminded them of their family
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roomsofangel · 3 days
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GROWING PAINS . . . # CHAPTER NINE !
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synopsis you hated christmas. simple. this year was no different, the only thing changing was the scenery when you decide to let your older brother, yunho convince you to visit your grandmother who neither of you had met but hoped it would do some good. everything was still the same — writer’s block, the winter loneliness, the way yunho won’t stop singing jingle bell rock, yeah, everything was the same. at least, until a certain blonde haired boy made it his mission to melt your iced heart.
warnings none really!
wc 1.3k
if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^
this chapter is in san’s pov !
a/n i decided to update this today and give you all a double update for growing pains since i know it has been a good while:( let me know what you guys think :D
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san thought he knew a lot of things back when he was still a rosy cheeked kid with deeper dimples than he had now — when he still had a lot of hope in the world and nothing snuffed out his spark just yet.
and maybe now that he’s an adult with more emotional scars than before, he can say he never wants anyone to feel the way he did. not since that night, he refuses to let anyone feel as if he has given up on them. sometimes he wonders if thats who he is or the fact he just wished no one ever gave up on him.
this small town, oh the ache it carried when he decided to come back three years ago to care for his mother. it was best to not live these days in his own rues, he had to learn to accept the past and embrace the future, no matter how much it ached.
and for the most part, san was fully convinced he was healed from that chapter of his life — that he no longer needed medication to make him feel alright.
“and this is yeosang.”
ah, that made his world shatter. kang yeosang in the flesh.
his eyes couldn’t help but match the other’s when they narrowed, eyeing and taking in the sight of how he was sat before the sound of your voice came up again, “you can sit by me if you want to.”
and san felt his heart ache a little, well— does it count as an ache? he hasn’t felt anything in his chest like this before, unless it was to do with hurt and sorrow. san nods, “of course yn.” he smiled, and tried to ignore the feeling of a glare on him as he took a seat with you, your smile warming him up.
it seemed that time was going by achingly slow, but san was thankful for the three that were there. mingi seemed to be decent, he reminded him of wooyoung. he should text wooyoung later, he forgot to do so.
as the movie progressed, it was some romcom that san could recall watching with his sister years ago, he couldn’t remember the name but he could recall certain scenes as he tried to snack on the popcorn given and focus on the texture, the taste. he could feel your hand brush against his and he felt his face warm, why was he warm?
“personally, if she says i’m a bird i’m gonna be a bird.” mingi broke the silence with his hands raised up in defense, making yunho snort and san couldn’t help but laugh a little himself and nod along. “so are you?” he teased a little and mingi grinned
“i like this guy.” mingi motioned over to san who nodded his head in acknowledgment and returned the grin, yunho agreeing with a “right!”
but san didn’t miss one thing,
the one thing but san is he was too observant for his own good
so yeosang must have forgotten that san noticed everything, even the similar little scowl that he remembered all too well.
“no! like this!” mingi shoved yunho aside to get onto the snowy ground, laying on his back and spread out to begin making a snow angel, making yunho groan and find a new spot to make his own
san chuckled, turning his attention to you who quickly looked away and back at your brother, making his lips only curl up more. he was convinced his face would hurt later on. “are they always like this?” he asked, wondering out loud and asking you while you nod and laugh. “sadly.” you said in response, san chuckled
“thank you for inviting me, yn.” san whispered softly as his eyes glanced up at the night sky, the stars twinkling and he noticed the moon was full. god, it was beautiful. he always loved the moon, he loved the different meanings and the different phases. how can something so magnetic and beautiful also be so far?
his eyes glanced towards you, your rosy nose scrunching as you felt the snowflakes fall onto the bridge of your nose and melt on your skin, your focus more on the same moon he was admiring.
how can something so magnetic and beautiful feel so far?
san walked back to his home, holding his house keys while you followed behind, your little hums making him smile at the snowy ground that he tried to focus on, counting each little detail. “hey san,” your voice met his ears, and he hummed in response
“i’m glad you came tonight.” you said, the two of you reaching his doorstep and he thought this was comical in a way, maybe even endearing. you were walking him to his door this time, oh how the roles reversed but he didn’t mind. he’d do anything to spend just even another second with you.
san smiled, “me too.”
“i’ll.. see you around?” your voice got a bit higher towards the end, your feet backpedaling to walk away soon to get on your way back home but your gaze was still on him, cheeks and nose rosy. “you know where to find me.” he whispered, not letting his eyes leave you for one moment. no, he needed to every little detail of you tonight committed to memory.
you looked.. so beautiful, under the moonlight with the snowflakes in your hair. “goodnight, san.” you looked at him, and he nodded.
“goodnight, yn.”
you reminded san of the moon,
he just hoped he could be your sun.
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mrs-snape5984 · 1 day
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“Free me from this pain, I’ve been running from…”
“I'm tired and I'm free falling. Free me! I'm lost and I am calling you…” (“Free me” by Sia)
I’ve experienced some very rough hardships in my almost 40 years lasting existence in this world…but I’ve never given up on myself. I knew, that I’d have to fight my way back out of these horrible miseries, and I kept my faith to find the path to better times…to find the path, which will lead me upwards again.
I admit, these hardships left their marks, their scars on me. They formed my heart and my mindset…they made me the person, that I am today. I learned my lessons…and I kept going.
Since I’m living struggling with this goddamn bitch of a disease, called ME/CFS, my life has only one direction: It’s going downhill…and it’s getting faster! In these past 1,5 years, I’ve lost more and more of all the things, which made my life worth living for. I lost my ability to do my job as a pedagogue and social worker. I lost my freedom, since I’m stuck in my dark room day and night. I lost a lot of social contacts, since screen time is messing with my brain and each phone call costs me too much energy. I lost my capability to be an active mother for my three children…and this is the part, that hurts the most. Damn, I lost so much more…and I feel my heart shattering in pieces every fucking day!
Everything in my life is slowly falling apart and I’m losing my grip on reality…and on myself! The newest pain in the ass is probably my habit of passing out every few days. My whole system shuts down in the middle of a simple talk or something else and I’m falling into unconsciousness! I can’t remember the things, I’ve done before…I’m just blacked out for several hours. At first, my kids were afraid in these moments…especially when they couldn’t wake me up from this state! But now, they simply accept that “quirk” of mine as their new reality…and my motherly heart is aching for them. This shouldn’t be their reality! They shouldn’t have to live with a mother, who’s always in the dark…who’s always lying in bed! They’re children!! They shouldn’t have to whisper in my presence. I should be the person, they can rely on unconditionally!! Fuck…my heart is bleeding…and I’m sorry for my pathetic venting.
I need a way out of this hell…but since there isn’t any possibility for me right now, I’ll keep on clinging on Severus. My fantasies of him and my way of coping with my misery by writing stories about him and my - oh so self-inserted - OC Julia/Jules are the only thing, that keeps me mentally stable functioning. Well…at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I mean, I know how depressed my posts might seem.
My favourite artist for my darkest ideas is my friend @madfantasy. I told Mani about my wish to be freed from my darkness…to be cured from my disease. I need a saviour…a true hero…I need Severus! Since there aren’t any promising medical treatments, I’ll need a magical miracle to get rescued. And this is exactly, what Severus is trying for me. He conjures the demons inside my soul and forces them to leave my body. Severus is the only person, who’s brave enough to face the darkness within me. He’s my knight…and the love of my life. 21 years of my life, it was Severus, who kept me going…who inspired me with his resilience and his courage! A lot of those previous hardships could be endured by me, because I had something, I believed in. I had something, that gave me confidence and strength. I had Severus. So, please…don’t let me lose my hope and my faith in his support. And don’t let me lose my faith in myself.
Mani, my precious friend, I’m stunned by your ability to understand my ideas. Every time, I’m commissioning you for another project, your art helps me to soothe my troubled heart. It is as if you’re drawing my feelings!! I can sense my own emotions in every single line of your drawing. You don’t know, how grateful I am that I was allowed to meet you here. I love our conversations and our understanding for each other. Feel hugged, Mani! I’m sending you so much love! 🫂🫂 (fly fly) 🥹🖤 Thank you for everything.
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy & Jules🖤
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prince-liest · 1 day
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Stop iitttt the idea of someone cutting off Lucifer's wings/ him cutting them off to save Charlie is..... it's in my head now. Firmly planted. Especially if we throw in a little extra 'I already went through this once, what's a second round!' spice. I have been struggling to find a good/ believable plot where in I can hurt the guy (lol) and it alwayssss comes back to Charlie or another person he cares about/ doesn't want to see hurt. When someone's holding a knife to the throat of a person you love, better not make any sudden movements and try to comply, especially when you can reason yourself into believing that what happens to you is extremely unimportant. Ugh, you have giving me so much to think about as always...
Okay, it's past 10pm, I can let myself go slightly insane about wingless Lucifer for a little bit now - what a GREAT mental image!!
He has to keep up a cheerful face for Charlie! You know she's going to be deeply upset, she's going to be horrified, she feels the full gravity of the situation! But her deep-set sympathy is not a boon, at least not right now, because he's doing this to protect her and he's damn well not going to let her get hurt further by emotionally scarring her for life or anything! It's fine! Gosh, imagine if he just fell apart, haha - but don't worry, Charlie, it's not that bad. He just has to - breathe through it. It's all good. Don't feel guilty. Don't let the blood he's spilling leave a permanent stain on your relationship.
It's all going to be fine.
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starfirewildheart · 11 hours
Text
Scars and Souvenirs
Chapter 19
Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.
Pairing: Sy / OFC
Word count: 2,206
Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assault.
Chapter 19
~~~I was in the hospital for the last 6 days. I had hoped I'd have loads of time to write but in reality I spent that time being a human pin cushion, being sick from meds or having tests. Thanks for being patient with me!~~~
Sy paced impatiently back and forth in the small observation room as he watched Mike through the two way mirror. He'd argued Mike's plea to Walt and the attorneys and they finally relented, though of course there was a cost. Mike wouldn't be allowed to testify at trial after this but they all understood why he needed to do this. He also wanted to do this without Sy or Walt in the room so the compromise was using an interrogation room so they could be close by and see them at all times. He just hoped Mike got the answers he was looking for.
~~~~~~☆~~~~~~
Mike looked up when the door opened. A deputy led Mitch Holmes into the room and cuffed him to the metal ring in the center of the table then left again. Another man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase entered. “As agreed on, there will be no recordings, nothing said will be admissible under any circumstances, for anything.  I want it to be known that my client is doing this as an act of kindness and can stop at any time he chooses.” He looked at Mike then at the two way mirror where he knew Walt and Sy were before closing the door and leaving father and son alone while he joined the others behind the glass. 
“Are you OK? I was worried when I heard what happened to you.” Mitch was laying it on thick acting like father of the year. “I can't believe the court let you get involved with that damn man and woman who got you hurt!” He had no idea how much Mike had been told about his involvement in what happened but since he wanted to visit him he doubted that he knew much. Now was time to try and throw Sy and Deb under the bus. If he could get Mike to hate them then he might have a chance with the court. 
“Y..you were worried about me?”
“Of course I was! I should never have agreed to let them take you.”
“The court agreed, not you,” Mike reminded him.
“I've always told you that the court don't give a shit about us and that nosey assed cop neither!” Mitch complained. 
“So, do you have anything you want to ask me?’ when Mitch looked at him like he'd grown a third head he continued. “You've spent your time talking about and blaming everyone but not a single word about you or even me. Why is that?”
“I was talking about how they let you get kidnapped and hurt, Mike. You.. you're not still mad at me over boxin’ your ears when you drank my whiskey are ya? Cause you deserved that,” Mitch shook his finger at him.
Mike shook his head to clear it wondering if he'd somehow ventured into some alternate dimension of crazy. After a few minutes something dawned on him. Walt and Sy had told Mike that Mitch had been held in isolation since being arrested and the only thing he'd been told about Mike was that he'd been rescued and was alive. Mitch had no idea that Mike knew it was him that sold his son to the gang. Sitting up straight Mike leaned closer to the table. “You're a worthless junkie who couldn't pay off his debts so instead of dealing with it like a man, which you aren't, you SOLD me to them! You sold me for the cost of your own fucking habits KNOWING  what they were going to use me for.” 
“You don't talk to me like that!” Mitch snapped.
“Or what? You gonna hit me some more,  Mitch?” He let the sound of the last two letters in his name draw out. “That will never happen again.” Mike stood up and paced around the small room successfully making Mitch antsy and uncomfortable before coming to a stop facing the mirror in front of where Sy was standing on the other side. “When I started trying to arrange this meeting wanted to talk to you about a lot of stuff because I was going to demand answers. The moment I saw you though I realized you would never tell me the truth about anything. You would try to manipulate me to get what you want but nothing more.” He turned to face Mitch. “That being said, what I do want to say,” he sat down and leaned on the table. “I just wanted to say that I hope your prison stay is everything you deserve it to be and I have some friends now that will help me make sure that your cell mates know that you're available to work off your own debts now. Granted I'm sure you won't bring the same price I would have but they will just have to whore you out twice as much.”
“You little fuck!” Mitch growled and tried to lunge for him. Mike was much too fast and moved out of reach.
~~~~~~♡~~~~~~
Geralt watched intently as the doctor force bent Debbie's knee, ready to jump in if he felt he needed to but the woman was tough. There were tears in her eyes and she had his hand squeezed so tight he could hear the bones creak but she did exactly what she had to do.
“I'm impressed with how well you're doing. Incision is healing nicely and I'm going to start your physical therapy this week. Once they get your leg strength built back up…”
“You're going to do another surgery and then I start all over?” She interjected. 
“Not all over but re-healing, yes. Remember it is going to be a long road but we will get there!” 
“I'll get there…” She mocked as the door shut behind him, throwing a roll of tape in frustration. 
Geralt arched his brow at her and tisked but had to bite his lip when she blushed at his mild scolding. The nurse came in and fit a new brace on her leg. It was shorter and had locks so that she could start to bend the knee slowly and not cause damage. Finally, after setting up physio, the next doctor appointment and getting blood work done they made it out to the truck to head home. “Hungry little one?”
“Starving,” She nodded. 
“Pizza, burgers, Mexican, Chinese?” He listed off nearby options. 
“Chinese,” her stomach growled loudly.
When they were seated and placed their orders Deb sipped on a soda then twirled the straw in the bubbly liquid. “You and Sy are really close. He always talked about you but now that we've met on person I can tell the feelings are mutual.” Geralt took a drink of his water waiting to see where this was going. “None of you have girlfriends. Why?”
“A few of us have had in the past. Napoleon often has a female companion but not for long periods. Will has a girl back where he calls home.” 
“You don't agree with attachments though? You think they are an exploitable weakness.” She looked  down at her plate. 
He pondered carefully before answering.  “I think anything that we love or care about has the potential to be used against us. If the person is evil enough or ruthless enough they will exploit anything.”
“I don't want to be a weakness,” She sighed softly.  “I already have been though, for all of you. He called you to help him but if not for me he wouldn't have needed to.” 
“Don't do anything stupid,” he leveled his eyes at her.
“I'm not, i.. I just don't want to be a reason he gets hurt. I want to be an asset not a burden.” She munched a spring roll. 
~~~~~~☆~~~~~~
Sy stretched his back as he walked through the barn with Mike. It had been a crazy day that started with them and their attorney arguing with Mitch's attorney on whether or not Mike could even see him. Once they met most of Mitch's demands, around four in the afternoon, then it was finally 
tiime for the meeting. “Did you get what you wanted out of the meeting?” He asked Mike.
Mike scratched Rose's snout and neck. “I wanted him to explain why he would do all this to me? Why does he hate me so much that he would sell me to someone who was going to pimp me out? Why?” His voice rose as he turned to face Sy. “What about me is so fucking broken that….” He choked up and spun to the left punching a wall in frustration. 
Sy went to him and pulled him into a hug but quickly let go when Mike fought against it. “Kid you're not the one who's broken, he is. Your old man has an addiction but it's more than that. Mitch is,” he struggled to find the right words. “He's a monster. He is the one who disappointed you, who let you down.”
“No one else ever saw that.” Mike demanded.
“Because it's true,” Sy stood firm. 
“And what about Debbie and everything that happened to her because of me?” He yelled. “She nearly died because you both tried to help me!”
“What? Mike, no, that wasn't your fault. You and Deb both got caught up in something that you had no control over. You didn't do this to her anymore than she did it to you.”
“They took us because Mitch sold me!”
“Walter pulled Deb and I in on the gang case. We got involved knowing the risks, kid. You two happened to be together so they took you both. Your old man set it up, sure but they took her hoping to get information about our investigation.”
“He's right,” Deb said as she limped over to them on her crutches. When they pulled up they saw Sy's truck by the barn and stopped. “Truth be told, we all try to protect each other from bad stuff and sometimes end up making it worse. Sy was working with Walt and shut me out of the investigation trying to protect me. On my end all I saw was him secretly texting and calling some random woman, sneaking off to meet her in secret. Instead of talking to him about it I threw myself into my work which got me involved with the corrupt detective. I convinced myself that what Lindy said about me not being enough for Sy was true and was trying to distance myself so it wouldn't be such a shock when he left me.” It was the first time she'd said some of that out loud. Sy was looking at her like she was from Mars and Mike looked like he wanted it to be true. “I don't even pretend that I have all the answers any more because the truth is that I'm more worried now than ever but the few things I do know, I'm sure of. Love gets you hurt whether it's unintentionally or not. Loving someone makes you a point of weakness for them and leaves them open to getting hurt. What is the alternative? We've all found each other and formed bonds which I think we are weaker without. If we run away from each other then we're vulnerable and will do anything to find each other.” She scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration.  “I can't make you believe the truth any more than I can force you to stay here if you're determined to leave. None of this was your fault and I hope you believe that, Mike.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, “and we want you here.”
Everything broke through Mike's walls at once and they crumbled. He wrapped his arms around Deb and buried his face against her shoulder and neck as the dam broke and he sobbed. He sobbed for his past, his childhood, his asshole father, his mom that left him and all the shit that happened recently. He cried until he had no tears left. He felt Sy's arms around him as well, helping comfort him. When the tears finally stopped and his heart rate came back down he felt completely drained. They must have been standing there for quite awhile because his legs were aching and going numb. 
The three of them headed back to the house. Mike was so drained he went to lay down for a nap before dinner. Debbie headed to the kitchen and grabbed her pain pills tossing a couple in her mouth then going to the fridge to get some water to rinse them down before bending down to try and grab an ice pack from the freezer. Sy's big hand reached in front of her and got the pack.
“What did the doctor say?”
She told him everything as they went to set on the sofa. It didn't take long between the exhaustion and the meds that she fell into a fitful sleep.
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cult-of-the-eye · 1 day
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inspired by @archivus' statements, i decided to give it a try myself
tw for depersonalisation, body image issues, body horror, slight gore
Out of Body Experience
Statement of Rebekah Fitch, regarding something that wasn’t her body. Original statement given 5th March 2018. Recording by [REDACTED], Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, Manchester. Committed to tape 26th March 2024. 
Statement begins. 
I never thought I would end up like this. I just-
I guess I should start from the start. 
Throughout my life, I’ve had a complicated relationship with my body. Not to get too, um, personal or anything, but let’s just say it's tough being the child of an immigrant mother, especially, well, my mother. She would make comments about my body, small ones, I’ll admit, but ones that certainly built up to…recent events. On top of all that, I spent a lot of my teen years dissociating. Tricking my brain into believing that I wasn’t real. That nothing was. It’s a bit difficult to solidify an image of your body when half of you is ashamed of it and the other half doesn’t even consider your ownership of one. Ownership. I guess that’s sort of where it all began. 
It was sometime in January when it all started to go wrong. I don’t exactly have a habit of staring at myself in the mirror, in fact, the only mirror I own in my cramped little flat is the bathroom one. It’s somehow always stained, a fact which I hesitate to admit helped me live with my…issues. The point is, the majority of the time, I didn’t know how I looked.
And then one day, I watched myself wake up. 
I remember exactly how it felt. You know how people sometimes slice oranges in half and then take the peel, dig their fingers into the sides and push, letting each segment split from the other, hungrily leaning up towards you? That’s how I felt. Inverted. Wrong. I saw myself in a way that I had never, ever seen before. Each and every part of me that bulged where it shouldn’t have, thinned and yellowed at the edges like a fruit in its off-season. Whatever was happening to my eyes didn’t hurt, exactly, but I could feel every single part of my body as if it had suddenly awoken from a deep unconsciousness. It disgusted me. The life of it all. I panicked, of course, I thought I was having a really, really bad dream and that all I needed to do was wake up. But, no matter how many times I attempted to shield myself from the view, no matter how many times I willed every single synapse in my brain to connect and let my goddamn eyes close, nothing happened. 
That nothing was the most excruciating nothing that I had ever experienced in my life. I was forced open, boneless and writhing. The me on the bed that I was watching slept soundly. 
I don’t remember when I snapped out of it. I don’t remember how long it had been. I sat up, drenched in sweat, determined to be rid of the one mirror I had left. Putting it in the bin didn’t feel as triumphant as I believed it would. I guess part of me knew that this was no one-off. 
Ok, I know what you’re thinking. It could just be a hallucination. I could be traumatised or mentally ill or on drugs. Well, I’m actually all of those things, which means that I have the unique ability to prove you wrong. I know what a hallucination feels like, I know what drug side effects feel like, and I know what my episodes feel like. And this? This was entirely separate. I don’t have to tell you that it happened again. I don’t have to tell you that I went from GP to GP, therapist to therapist to find out what was happening to me. But I will end this with proof. 
Statement Ends. 
Post-statement records include a medical report of one Rebekah Fitch. It outlines a series of scars of unidentified means on the underside of her eyelids, spelling out the phrase “I know that I exist.” Any attempts to follow up have led to dead ends. However, I’m afraid that I may be able to guess how this one ends.
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quietwingsinthesky · 8 months
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what if. Amy “fix-it” because hallucifer makes sam so paranoid about dean leaving for no reason that sam gives in and follows him and is witness to the whole thing
#hallucifer: wow. big brother really trusts us. (beat) so something’s up right? we know it’s never this easy.#sam: (visibly restraining himself from saying shut up. about to grab his scar.)#hallucifer: (aware he’s about to be banished) don’t listen to me if you want but. I’m just trying to help.#don’t blame me if you look in the papers tomorrow and find a obit for your brain-eating girlfriend. and… what was her kid’s name again?#sam: (touching the scar. not pressing down. face all screwed up.) || hallucifer: :3 it’s not like it’ll hurt anyone#if he really does trust you he doesn’t even have to know we’re following him. *and* you’ll know your brother still trusts you.#even when I’m here. maybe he won’t even punch you again. that still hurting?#sam: (grimace. because yeah. it does.) || hallucifer: door number two - he thinks you’ve lost it and he’s going to stab that woman to death.#so what’s it gonna be Sam? ready to gamble your friend’s life on if Dean gives a shit about your opinion?#[and that’s the point where sam goes to follow dean. still doesn’t talk to Lucifer. not there yet. but oh hallucifer is sooo pleased with#himself about this. because he’s Sam. and he picks up on what Sam doesn’t. and he could see all of Dean’s little giveaways that Sam was#turning a blind eye to. and now here’s the perfect opportunity to put a wedge between them and get sam to trust him more <3)#GOD. FUCK. IM UPSET NOW. WHY WASNT HALLUCIFER IN THAT EPISODE. MOST OF THE EPISODES?#such a good fucking concept. squandered.#anyway. idk if sam saves Amy but he DEFINITELY here’s Dean’s little speech to her about how she can’t change.#hallucifer with faux sympathy like (sigh) damn. well. i always told you what he was like. Michael. Michael-sword. no difference.#both of them want us dead the moment we step out of line.#and Sam just frozen there in horror with Lucifer’s voice sinking in. and he believes him. how can he not. with dean proving him right#hallucifer#spn#sam winchester#amy pond
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yayroos · 5 months
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i might be poking a bear best left to the archives of my other blog. but. it still hurts me so much that the thing i caught the most hate for across my various adventures of this fucking website was the time i, an aromantic asexual just coming to terms with what that meant for my life and future, dared to be hurt by John Watson in BBC Sherlock (which everyone still loved at the time) stating that a romantic relationship would improve Sherlock as a human being.
I got people sending me all the vile things the discourse could generate. I wasn't even primarily upset that they'd implied that Sherlock might not be aro/ace, that stung but i didn't really expect it to stick. I was upset that a character I liked and looked up to at the time was saying outright and with no wiggle room that being uninterested in romance was a fundamental flaw of someone's personhood.
I never watched another second of Sherlock after that. Never finished that show that up to then had meant so much to me. Because John said the things he said. And i went a ran to my room and made a sad and angry post on my blog all about asexuality and aromanticism and then for daring to be hurt by this i was subjected to all the violent rage tumblr could produce.
I wonder why i stayed on this god damn hellhole of a website. I really do.
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elytrafemme · 7 months
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posting actively anti KOSA stuff on my instagram account which i know is followed by at least one person who is explicitly pro KOSA... who i also work with...
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arthur-r · 2 years
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i ran out of storage while drawing this so i had to add the white parts in markup and call the rest of it good but this is “self portrait with future beard and pending scar” and i drew it after surgery this morning
#the outfit is stuff i have in real life and so is the scar except it’s not a scar yet it’s a wound#that’s what my mom keeps on telling me when i say wow this is such a cool scar#which is what i say to not terrify myself about how i might always have this scar#anyway if i had still been in ibispaint for the end of this i would’ve added some bright light behind me#because that’s what i was planning on but then i ran out of storage#anyway hi i did the surgery this morning and it went good the IV hurt and the anesthesia was scary but everything else was good#anyway i was gonna fix the shape when i was still in ibispaint but i would need 250 megabytes of storage and i don’t have it :(#so markup is all i have now shdhdf i can’t erase i can only draw on top#which is mostly how i draw anyway but still#anyway the surgery to make my face look regular again all the way would cost money and not insurance at all#so unless it heals really good on it’s own i might look like this forever#so i started thinking about forever and i reassured myself by adding a beard to the picture. and so. that’s why i drew this shdhdf#anyway i missed my dynamic brush and this was my first time using it in a lot of months and i had missed it shdhdf#idk if this is like. good. to people who aren’t on anesthesia. i will have to find out in the morning#but i wanted to break to you guys that it might never go away. but i did that by drawing instead of a picture#because i get nervous on the internet and especially today#and anyway i hope i still like this in the morning but mostly the point before is i have a scar there now#cause that’s what i had to get to not have a tumor there now. and so it’s better and it’s okay but also makes me nervous#but i’m gonna grow up and it will still be okay and this is scary but the worst dangerous part is over#and this is just maybe what i look like right now and maybe it will heal. but i will just have to find out#me. my post. mine.#my art#delete later
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quaranmine · 1 year
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literally i am so sick of acne set me free from this hell already please why do i have to live in constant pain
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