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#just hate that literally anything makes me suicidal 😭😭

81folklore · 8 months

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this is me trying - CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x small!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

summary: after a twitter thread was made talking about the struggles you faced in a horrible way, you release a song you wrote with charles to talk about it

authors note: i am in no way saying olivia has struggled with or is dealing with anything mentioned in this story. this song means alot to me as someone who struggles with both addiction and my mental health so if im projecting..no one needs to know😁 i honestly have no clue how this is going to turn out but we will see. anything in bold italics is french

warnings: talks of addiction, depression, anxiety and suicide. alcohol addiction, drugs and self harm are all mentioned. the topics of this is me trying are mentioned, for obvious reasons but in a more personally focused way (if that makes sense). unwarrented hate (?). nothing really goes into detail but just regular warnings, please reach out to someone if you are struggling!!

authors note 2: i had to dust this one off and I HATE IT. its literally my least favorite work ive ever done so please feel free to keep scrolling😭😭 i just kept projecting by accident and it honestly kind of got out of hand. im also SO BAD with my wording so i have no clue if any of it sounds how i wanted it too!!

authors note 3: after reading it over i realised i never actually explained what i was talking about in the song thread so quickly, charles’ and yn split for a short period after yn started shutting him out, she spoke to someone (the stranger) who helped her start to extend the branches back out to charles and they got back together around 11 ish months before the song was released!! the fans never knew why they broke up, there was some speculation but most of it was dropped when they got back toegther

masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 2,457 others

good food, yummy people😋

view comments

arthur_leclerc: you mean good people yummy food right?

yourusername: suuure😁

charles_leclerc: beautiful girl

yourusername: love you!!

user7: what is charles doing in the 5th picture😭😭

yourusername: he dropped his airpod😭

user10: girl have you seen twitter…

user75: charles run as fast as you can

user2: there is no way charles knew he’d never be with someone like that💀

user10: what and he’d be with someone like you??

user6: wait what is happening in these comments what happened on twitter?

user7: someone made a thread ‘exposing’ yn but its just a bunch of bullshit that his fans are using because they dont like yn

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 3,562 other

studio time with baeee💋💋

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charles_leclerc: my favorite musician💐

charles_leclerc: i love you so much

yourusername: you mean the world to me charlie

pierregasly: kika wants to know if she can come next time

yourusername: tell her to text me so we can arrange it!!

user73: oh my god new music soon

user64: does this mean charles is on her new music?!

yourusername: maybeee

user64: GIRL DONT TEASE US LIKE THIS

user99: im so sorry about whats happening on twitter you dont deserve that

user2: yes she does

arthur_leclerc: can you tell charles to stop talking about your music when im not allowed to hear it, please🙏

yourusername: sorry arthur!! wanna come for a car ride and listen to it with us??

arthur_leclerc: please please please

user82: yn and charles taking arthur on a car ride to listen to her new song, oh what if i cried😭😭

arthur_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 86,289 others

*text in first picture reads: 🤍🤍* *text in second picture reads: so unbelievably proud of my sister*

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 8,215 others

if you had told me a year ago that not only would i still be here but i would be releasing a song talking about the darkest times of my life with the love of my life by my side i would never have believed you.

throughout the past few months i have revisited times of my life i wish i could have left behind but ive learnt that accepting that this is a part of me now is important in my journey of moving forwards, and in moving forwards ive learnt that my struggles do not define me and i wont be embarrassed by things that have affected me

sometimes i wish i could go back and erase that part of my life, erase the way i felt, erase the way i treated the people i loved the most. but i cant, and i wont let people belittle me for that time anymore

if you have struggled in the past or are struggling today, you are not alone. its a cliche thing to say but i promise you at least one other person will be experiencing the feelings your feeling, you may not know them, you may never know them but you are not alone, you never have been and you never will be

you are not weak for struggling, you are not weak for finding ways to cope, no matter what they may be, you are not weak for shutting people out and you are not weak for reaching out for help, no matter how little you think you need it. you deserve help, no matter how small your problems may seem to you, you are worthy of being safe, you are worthy of being happy

i never thought i would release a song highlighting those times for me, but i wanted anyone whose been through these things to know that i love you and i will always love you; this is me trying out now on all platforms❤️‍🩹

view comments

arthur_leclerc: i am so so proud of you, you deserve all the happiness in the world

charles_leclerc: you mean the world to me, i am so proud of what you have achieved and i will be by your side forever and always

yourusername: charlie i hold so much love for you i feel like i may explode

user55: ive been struggling with an addiction for a while, i cannot express the way this song feels. just, thank you so much

yourusername: im right beind you darling, i believe in you❤️‍🩹

user81: i fear if i listen to this anywhere outside of the comfort of my room i will break down in tears

user93: 🩵🩵

user42: I😭JUST😭WANTED😭YOU😭TO😭KNOW😭THAT😭THIS😭IS😭ME😭TRYING😭

sebastianvettel: im so proud of you yn, come visit with charles soon sweetheart

yourusername: dropping everything and coming right now

lewishamilton: 💜💜

yourusername: hi lewis🤭🤭

user70: YN HELP😭😭 (just like me fr)

charles_leclerc and yourusername added to their stories

seen by pierregasly, sebastianvettel and 2,348,172 others

*text on first photo reads: i hold so much love for you🩷* *text on second photo reads: my bestest friend in the entire universe🩵*

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc insta au #charles leclerc

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ironunderstands · 24 days

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God I love being correct (2.2 leaks incoming!!!)

“Jade saved Aventurine!!!” “Jade helped him out of the kindness of her own heart!!” “Jade is such a mother figure to Aventurine!!”

mmm yeah, definitely yup 100%

Honestly this fucking speaks for itself, and I’m so glad hoyo committed to the evil on her, she’s very compelling and that’s extremely cunty I must give her credit for it, but god do I absolutely despise the people who believe Jade and Aventurine have a healthy relationship, or that she “saved” him out of the kindness of her own heart or something.

To Jade, Aventurine is an investment, nothing more and nothing less, which is why she puts her faith in him, he’s a reliable business opportunity, but that’s not the same as caring about him personally and I really need people to get the difference

If Aventurine hadn’t proved himself useful to her, she would have left him to rot in prison or succumb to his death sentence, this isn’t saving, it’s exploitation.

Jade knows Aventurine couldn’t decline whatever offer she made, and anything is worse than death or slavery, the things he’s trying to escape, so she offers for him to join the IPC to make more money for them. That’s it, that’s all she wants, she doesn’t care about how bad being in the IPC is for Aventurine’s mental health, how he literally took on a suicide mission so he could escape being a stoneheart, how even if she “saved” him, his banner name is literally “gilded imprisonment” and his lightcone “inherently unjust destiny”, so damn she did a real good job at saving him and fixing his life, definitely didn’t just put him in a pair of gilded chains.

Also like can we talk about how weird Jades comment about his eyes were? Like it’s genuinely creepy to me considering Avens eyes are a) one of his biggest insecurities and b) people fetishize them, something which Jade knows and chooses to still comment about. I hate to say it, but I feel like if this was a male Jade saying that to a female Aventurine, yall would never let that slide and Jade would never beat the p3do allegations. Aventurine was likely a teenager/young adult in that scene, and either way there is a visible power dynamic between them (I mean Aven is literally in chains looking up at her), and I don’t think if the situation was flip flopped people would be treating Jade like some kinda hero. If they were the same gender I feel like people would be shipping them though 😭

So, yeah. Being correct feels amazing, pls use your brains and realize that just because one character sounds kinda nice to another, does not mean they actually care about them or are a good person!

#honkai star rail #aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr jade #penacony #hsr spoilers #hsr leaks #Ah it feels so good to watch the “Jade is mother figure to Aven” truthers lose #Now we have to prepare for the second wave of annoying #That being the “omg don’t end that flop jade”#I hope her kit is absolute dogshit just to limit the size of her annoying ass fans #Ik it will probably be amazing but still #Jade is a pretty amazing villain and I hope her fans don’t keep ruining her for me

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eddies-house · 1 month

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.

A senseless daydream.

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it. Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape. This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place. It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt. Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life. And last week he was suddenly dead. It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie. All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor. Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s. Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste. Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.

Whatever you wanted.

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke. His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you. He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him. He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place. Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick. He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible. Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible. And for what? For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions. Pathetic, he knew. But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man. Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything. He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come. A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind. And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver. The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him. He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better. It was a lie. He never had the flu. He didn’t feel better. He wanted to die. And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive. Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon. His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones. There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did. A flaw in the system. And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?

Several.

He thought to himself.

You could have gone to school, shown up.

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no. So. Many. Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death. He couldn’t stop making excuses. Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse. For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together. Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had. It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision. He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid. Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed. And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues. Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies. Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum. Dancing in the living room. Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees. Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin. Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense. Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer. That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised. Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights. Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in. Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home. Only he rarely did. Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time. Years and years of push back. A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.

“My dad has a ton of jobs.” He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.

The kids would snicker. Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness. And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day. Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them. Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature. At least that’s how dad described it. It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse. They called his dad a drunk. They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged. “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie. Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time. Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt. And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up. Closure in some kind of fucked up way. Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with. Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes. Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability. No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door. He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it. This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions. He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world. They shouldn’t have to worry about me. With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana. A life he’d always longed for anyway.

Be careful what you wish for.

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away. “One slip up…” They had said. It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him. Literally anyone. As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.

Cause he was nothing if not a problem. First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.

“Eddie?!”

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry. The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.” His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime. “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear. Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made. You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” You soothe.

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose. A wordless commitment. Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure. Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had. Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at. He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house. Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred. If either spoke it would make it real. Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him. There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind. Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip. It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him. In the standard of fight or flight, he froze. Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together. His croaking voice made that hard. But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability. And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime. Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him. Maybe that was dare you even think it, love. But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions. Conclusions you backtracked on immediately. It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–” A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.” His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior. “I shouldn’t–” There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath. “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn. Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet. Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.

“How’d you know?” He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.

“Wayne called me.” You sigh. “Said he got my number from Steve. Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?” At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it. “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in. Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.” You assure, taking care to relax your features. “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out. He wanted me to check in. I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.” You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again. You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick. The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor. There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better. You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again. It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words. When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage. In his eyes.

“But I will be. Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses. Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble. A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.” You demand.

“No, Bambi. Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key. Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself. And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses. His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness. Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in. He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!” Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow. “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down. I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it. My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.” Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze. A plea. “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in. I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal. It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him. The room turned colder, more vacant. Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart? His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall. The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended. Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what? Stormed off? Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat. He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other. And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness. The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut. An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.” You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth. “And I did. You didn’t say how long or—or where to go. But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake. Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips. Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you. Your boy.

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense. Bambi and Eddie. There is not one without the other, not anymore. Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”

It just fell from his tongue. A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious? Is that what you’re gonna ask?” He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping. Not because you’re afraid, no, never. You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts. “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.

“Bad.” He reiterates. “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.” Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip. “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it. And I’ll run with it. Far. Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.”

“I’m a pathetic man. Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.” You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.” He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow! Jesus fuck.” Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek. “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of. Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.

“Can you…can you do that again?” He whispers. Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck. His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest wet dreams.

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail. And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.

“Like that, baby?” You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.” A whisper that tells you everything. “I-I never—no one’s ever—“ He tries to warn you.

“What?” You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe. “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”

“Just my hand.” Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap. Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his. Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.

“We can stop.” You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.” His voice shakes, chest heaving. “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him. But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable. Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.” You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him. “Let me take care of you.”

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles. You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you. His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far. His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.” You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.” He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria. “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.

“Please, baby. Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.

“You bought condoms? Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!” You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back. You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care. Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed. You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you. Purely Eddie. Woodsy and minty. A tad smoky. And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room. And then it plays. A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love. A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.

“Well alright, cowboy.” You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.

“Shut up.” He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.

“C’mere.” You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you. “Wanna see you.”

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach. Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago. The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined. While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side. Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him. Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants. Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet. But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. His eyes grow, lips parted in awe. And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control. And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval. That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it. Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red. Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.” While grinding into nothing, poor boy. “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands. You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth. Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps. Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair.

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot. Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned. Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone. The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom. The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm. Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting. The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds. Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what. Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime. Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm. His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted. You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark. All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you. He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless. Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit. Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”. That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close. Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart. Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.

It could help though. And that’s all that mattered. If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing. If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree. Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar. Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works. Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did. Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste. Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes. While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet. Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity. Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips. A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?” He laughs, voice husky with sleep.

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created. Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow. He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”

Eddie just stared.

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!” You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you. When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse. I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck. And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you. I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.” You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table. Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you. Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute. He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing.

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I. Love. You.” You enunciate each word with a peck. “Point blank. No exceptions. You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man? We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records. A huge stack of them. All genres. Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal. It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling. That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?” You scoff. “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school. You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach. He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.

And he was blushing.

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me. I picked some out that I knew you’d like. Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them. Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him. Like Pandora’s box or something. Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper. A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold. His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper. It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture. At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said.

“No fucking way.” He smiles, half laughs. Then repeats himself. Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around. Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table. The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other. Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between. His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three. Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled. Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere. You miss it. But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything. Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi. Makes small talk with mom and grandma. Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day. No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her. He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang. Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual. Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background. Something about a broken sled. Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either. This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on. Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default. She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially. Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house. Beautiful in the summertime. Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays. One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 1 month

Note

Can you make some sad libby headcanons? I swear all your other sad headcanons made me cry😭

sad libby head canons

YES! libby is literally the fucking best and she's so underrated. trigger warning for self-harm, suicidal thoughts/attempts, eating disorders, and sexual assault. hope you like them <3.

she used to apologize to her mother after she would hit her (in tig she says her mother used to hit her when she was stressed)

she's been self-harming since she was like 12. she used the blade in her pencil sharpener and cut the tops of her thighs (you can't see them even when she wears shorts)

drake convinced her that him SAing her was out of love, and that he knew she 'wanted' it so she should stop complaining. she'd be the one who ended up apologizing to him after he'd assault her

in high school, because of how tough things were at home, she used to do drugs (she had this really bad group of friends that sort of influenced her) (she didn't get addicted to the drugs though, if was more of a once in a while thing when she couldn't handle her life anymore)

at some point, her mom was doing really badly financially, and they were forced to move into a smaller one bedroom apartment. libby thought her mom deserved the bed bc she worked so hard so she slept on the floor.

she's so used to people hitting her that it doesn't even hurt anymore. when someone does, she sort of dissociates in order to not feel anything.

her mom used to tell her she was overweight (she was literally underweight, her mom was just jealous). libby then developed an eating disorder (bulimia)

the ED was sort of an on and off thing for her. every once in a while, she'd get the idea in her head that she was overweight and ugly and should do smth about it, but, then, avery or one of her friends would help her get better.

the reason she's drawn to men like drake is bc it's the only thing she's familiar with. her mom was a piece of shit too, so for her its what's normal/what she deserves (this is less of a head canon and more psychology but eh)

she'll do anything anyone asks of her. she can't say no even if it makes her uncomfortable/she doesn't have the time/doesn't like that person.

she sometimes gets so mad at the world that she punches walls until her bones almost break.

she hates getting mad at people bc she reminds herself of her mother.

she's terrified of becoming a mother (even though she wants to be one) bc she's convinced herself that she'll be like her mom, if not worse.

her mom used to get mad at her for ricky (her father) leaving. so much so that libby started blaming herself for it

drake used to tell libby that if she didn't let him have his way with her, he'd hurt avery. libby, of course, didn't want that so she would let him do awful things to her.

she hates taking baths bc drake used to waterboard her (if you don't know what that is, search it up)

when libby used to do things her mom didn't approve of/like (mistakes all children make and learn from like spilling a glass of milk), she would deny libby basic needs like food, water, a bed to sleep in etc.

idk if this one will make sense (it makes sense to me but idk), but libby dyes her hair a new color very often bc its a way for her to start anew. like lets say she breaks up with drake again and she hates herself for getting back together with him in the first place, she dyes her hair a new color to signify the beginning of a new era.

she will literally break her back to please people/be the person they want her to be. if they think she talks to much, she'll stop talking, etc (people's opinions of her matter a lot to her)

tw prob one of the darkest hcs i've ever written: libby ended up in the hospital once bc she slit her wrists trying to off herself. this happened right before she took avery in. the doctors didn't think she'd make it.

she'd considered offing herself multiple times before and after the last hc, but she doesn't bc just the thought of it makes her feel guilty. she doesn't want people to cry over her bc she thinks she doesn't deserve their tears, and she doesn't want to leave people she wants to help

she insists everyone get therapy but herself bc, to her, other people matter more

the only thing that brought her comfort as a child was this stuffed bunny. she used to press it to her wounds bc it would dull the pain (this might not make sense but whenever i get hurt (cause im ass clumsy bitch), putting pressure on the wound dulls the pain). she also found comfort in how soft it was.

drake threw that bunny away cause he thought it was worthless. libby told nash about this and he searched the entire fucking country until he found that damn stuffed bunny (idk how he did but he's a hawthorne so...)

when she has panic attacks, she'll either be very silent/still in a corner or she'll be clawing/pulling at anything around her (including herself)

she didn't do well in school not bc she wasn't smart but bc the students and teachers were so creepy towards her (would harass her constantly) that she felt uncomfortable even stepping into the school

absolutely hates it when drunk people interact with her/get too close to her bc whenever drake got drunk, he'd hit her

hannah's death hit her hard too. they were actually much closer than people thought they were. hannah helped her through a lot of shitty things that happened in her life. she would visit her grave every once in a while to tell her she wished she was still here bc her life (and avery's) was absolutely shit without her. she would breakdown in the middle of the graveyard every time

whenever she felt like hurting herself but didn't have a blade nearby, she would dig her fingernails into the already existing wounds to make them bleed again.

drake once beat her up so bad she ended up in the hospital with brain swelling and a fractured arm. the swelling in her brain was so bad they didn't know if she'd make it out alive.

here's a happy libby head canon to (hopefully) make it all better:

she used to be this supervisor at a daycare when she was younger (that's probably not even a thing but lets pretend it is). the kid would make her drawings all of the time with hearts and proposals and stuff. she loved the kids so much, she would hug every single one of them and bake them cupcakes. they were literally her best friends, and some of them still send her messages through their mom/dad (she would befriend their parents and give them her number/email)

not proof read bc i'm a lazy ass bitch. i say this in every post, but pls talk to someone if you need help (if there's no one in your life you can talk to, contact a helpline). sending lots of love to everyone <3.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #libby grambs

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mulletmitsuya · 2 years

Text

Toman groupchat

Warnings: suggestive, swearing, mentions of euthansia and suicide

Desc: Mikey has good news (lying)

Mikey: yo

Mikey: YO

Mikey: YOO

Draken: what?

Mitsuya: i'm not gonna lie Mikey, if this is some goofy shit i might actually beat your ass

Mikey: you're always so grumpy oh my god

Mikey: like there's a cactus that's constantly twisting and turning in your rectum

Mikey: can you let me live

Smiley: unnecessarily descriptive

Angry: ☹️

Mitsuya: i actually want you to drop dead

Mikey: bro i didn't even do anything😭

Mikey: Ken-chin get your twin bro

Kazutora: remember when Draken would insist on us calling Mitsuya his sworn brother

Draken: cause it's what he is

Draken: say it Mitsuya

Mitsuya: me and Draken are sworn brothers

Draken: born to live and die together

Mitsuya: chill

Smiley: Draken's so intense sometimes lmao

Takemitchy: i can never tell if he's trolling or not

Mikey: i literally called you guys here for a reason but ok

Baji: Draken thinks he's so cool cause he's 6'2

Draken: yeah

Draken: amongst other things

Baji: like what 🤨

Draken: my abs

Draken: my hair

Draken: my tattoo

Draken: my scars

Draken: so many things yk

Draken: i'm just great like that

Baji: i actually hate him

Mikey: HELLO

Chifuyu: Baji-san, even if you don't have some of those things you're still cool!

Hakkai: you're making it worse man😟

Baji: shut up Chifuyu

Takemitchy: guys wasn't Mikey-kun saying something😅

Smiley: you smell so bad

Smiley: i had to say it

Takemitchy: ah😦

Chifuyu: axe body spray head ass

Mikey: i don't think he smells🤨

Smiley: that's cause you smell too LMAO

Smiley: you're B.O is HORRIBLE

Smiley: the smells cancel each other out😁

Angry: Smiley stop😡

Smiley: don't use that emoji Souya, they're gonna make fun of you

Angry: if you can use the Smiley emoji then why can't i use the Angry emoji

Smiley: idk i'm cooler

Angry: :(

Smiley: i was kidding

Angry: ...

Smiley: you want another plushie?

Angry: :) 💙

Smiley: ...

Smiley: 🧡

Draken: that was kinda wholesome

Takemitchy: aww

Smiley: shut the fuck up before i cave your fucking skull in

Takemitchy: ok chill😭

Draken: can i leave now

Mikey: I WAS TRYNA SAY SMTH THO

Baji: hurry up then

Baji: Tora and i need to finish

Mikey: finish what?🤨

Smiley: the implications of that sentence?🤨

Draken: 🤨

Mitsuya: 🤨

Hakkai: 🤨

Baji: if anyone else sends that motherfucking emoji so help me god

Takemitchy: 🤨

*baji has gone offline*

Takemitchy: WAIT NO

Takemitchy: WE SENT IT AT THE SAME TIME

Takemitchy: BAJI-KUN

Takemitchy: PLEASE

Takemitchy: I DIDN'T SEE THE MESSAGE

Takemitchy: C'MON MAN😭

Kazutora: we're finishing a game btw😐

Mikey: anyway!

Draken: GET TO THE FUCKING POINT MIKEY

Mikey: okok

Mikey: so, good news everybody

Mikey: GRANDPA MIGHT LET ME GET EUTHANASIA IN CANADA❗

Draken: that's not funny😐

Takemitchy: i don't really know what that means but i'm sure you'll look great Mikey-kun💛

Chifuyu: dude...

Kazutora: smart move bro

Kazutora: don't wanna be getting anyone pregnant👌

Mitsuya: ?????

Smiley: ayo...

Kazutora: what?

Hakkai: this is so unserious

Mitsuya: what the fuck do you think getting euthanasia means Kazutora???

Kazutora: um, like when females get their embryos tied or some shit like that, but for males

Draken: ?????

Mitsuya: it's not even close...

Mitsuya: how did you come to that conclusion...

Takemitchy: wait is this serious, what does it mean?😭

Smiley: what do you think it means??

Takemitchy: like a beauty treatment or something?

Takemitchy: right?

Draken: no...

Draken: Euthanasia is medically ending a persons life to relieve suffering or assisted suicide for the same reason

Draken: it's only legal in 7 countries

Takemitchy: 😧

Takemitchy: Mikey-kun that's not funny

Mitsuya: but how did you guys get to those conclusions

Mitsuya: i don't get it

Mikey: y'all were suppose to be happy for me but ok

Mikey: what happened to being supportive huh

Mikey: y'all just killed my vibe fr

Mikey: ...

Mikey: same way they gon be killing me in that hospital❗

Mikey: LMAO

Mikey: i'ma log off

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

Note

i was reading a meta about Rhaenyra's relationship with Harwin Strong and about Criston Cole and HAAAAAAA

In history, who is blamed for the dance, at least in the popular imagination, is Criston Cole the Kingmaker, who didn't like Rhaenyra and convinced brother against sister to fight and consequently ending the Targaryen dynasty

I'm pissed and I don't even like crispin cole that much 😭😭😭

The way that history blames him is so unfair like

oh god don't get me on my little criston soapbox ahaha but long story short i fully agree with you. criston is very bitter and has major anger issues, but it frustrates me how much people take his relationship with rhaenyra at face value rather than acknowleding how problematic it really was. i think it should spark some conversations about the double standards we hold men versus women to when it comes to experiencing sexual assault, because if criston and rhaenyra's genders were reversed i think fans' takes would be very different.

i've made a post here about why criston's ability to consent to rhaenyra was compromised. criston is canonically dornish (= poc, subjected to racism by other characters in the show including harwin), lowborn, and poor, while rhaenyra is valyrian (= white), as highborn as it gets, and super fucking powerful and wealthy. and she coerces him into sex in a situation where she literally holds the power to have him killed (if she accuses him of coming onto her) while he has no power at all. and he only takes this risk reluctantly, and under the false assumption that the sex means something. rhaenyra doesn't do this intentionally, but being oblivious to your power doesn't make it okay when you use it to pressure others into sex under false pretenses. like she just did not consider the implications of the power difference and of how much more criston risked than she did. of fucking course he's bitter, and of fucking course he hates her.

and i've made a post here about how and why criston ended up with the greens. alicent gave him a very real purpose and sense of healing after what happened with rhaenyra. she was one of the only characters to treat him like he wasn't lowborn, dornish, and poor. she entrusted him with herself, and with her children, and literally brought him back from the brink of suicide. of course he loves her, and of course he'll do anything to protect her and her children. he raised those children when viserys would not (think of how many times he rightfully gives viserys the stink eye in the show, there's very much stepdad-esque resentment there). and the political threat to them is very much real (maybe i should make a separate post about this, but there's one here that i think does a good job). honestly, the fact that he was defending them against rhaenyra was probably only a small bonus. obviously he hurts other people, including innocent people, in the name of protecting his loved ones- but like so does literally every other character involved in the dance lmao.

long story short: criston's actions were very much based out of a love and desire to defend the family he'd built, not so much around his hatred of rhaenyra, though that was probably the cherry on top of the cake. i'm not surprised history remembers him so poorly though, given how bigoted westeros is towards dornish, lowborn men like him. because how dare someone actually fight for their position rather than being born into it, am i right?

#ask #asks #answered #hotd #house of the dragon #criston cole #ser criston cole #criston #ser criston #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #alicent hightower #alicent #hotd meta #meta

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trying414 · 1 year

Text

Maribat Prompt

This was titled post-idea, and i literally just copy-pasted my note, so thats why theres the crying prompt thing at the bottom.

Also, none of this is meant to be offensive or anything. I wholly support all genders/sexualities. And I'm pro-choice. So if this is offensive, I'm so sorry, and please let me know (gently, im sensitive) so I can try to correct myself ❤️

Damian ladybug, Marinette black cat

"Father, I have acquired a kitten. I'm keeping her. She's MINE." (Stake his claim so no adoption occurs. But also the kitten joke because he loves animals.)

"Holy shit, it's hereditary." (I've definitely seen this line with Mari being a cat, but she's always with a bird. Not a bug. Which is fun for the cat-who-got-the-canary plays, but not what I'm going for with this idea.)

He can become red bird or something, I don't know. He can't be ladybird. I know that would relate, but he's not a lady.

Unless

Maybe he does it just to spite people

And take down sexist, discriminating assholes

He might

His brothers would laugh, but they would get behind the cause

It would seem so out of character

But he would enjoy trolling people

Maybe the bats mention ladybird strategically

People are looking for a female

And then as soon as one starts talking shit, BAM!

LADYBIRD IS A DUDE WTF

STAB STAB STAB

OW OW OW

(Those two lines were a reference to a play I was in when I was in high school and they fit perfectly 😂)

😘 drink your respect women juice, kids

And accept all.

Oh my God, though.

I know this started as damian, but could you imagine dick or Jason? Maybe even Tim. I feel like damian is just the least likely to pull this shit.

"Ladybird is a dude wtf"

Cue fake tears "I'm TRANS you PRICK"

he's not, but he supports whole heartedly and that will teach them not to assume one's gender

Suddenly, gothamites have united for Trans rights. Pride month is bigger than before. And gothamites protect their own. Someone says shit about their "Trans" bat? Oh FUCK no. And all the Trans gothamites finally feel represented. Whichever batbro is playing that part takes pride in helping them feel represented. He may not be Trans himself. But he knows how important it is to feel like you matter.

Bonus if it's Jason because he lived on the streets. He knows what being Trans and unaccepted can do to people, whether it be murder or suicide or rape. He's seen them turn to "hormone therapies" found on the street because they can't afford proper medical help or their family doesn't support it and the drugs are a bad batch or laced with something or not even the correct drug at all, and the next thing he knows, they're addicts or dead. Fuck yes he's going to represent.

Give him a more tragic backstory. Maybe he had a trans friend on the street that wasn't accepted by their family. Maybe he tried to help them get the drugs or tried to talk them out of it (having seen his own mother). And they died for it. So when he has the opportunity to represent, he takes it. No one knows if he's mtf or ftm. Maybe he's nonbinary or genderfluid (though I'm pretty sure that's not trans? I could be wrong. And if I am, please gently correct me. I want to learn, not be attacked.) Hell, maybe he's nb or genderfluid outside of the mask. I don't know. I don't think he would be trans, if I'm being honest. The only one I think I could really see as trans is Tim. Though, I'm sure there are great ways to spin Jason as trans, and no hate on that. Just not for this au (though if someone wants to run with this idea and make him trans, I have no problem with that, and I will happily read it 😊)

Fuck, I just wrote a whole goddamn prompt 😭

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thiswontbeforever · 2 years

Text

TW// sh & s*icidal thoughts, anxiety, depression

okay idk if it’s just me bc i haven’t seen anyone else really mention it & pls let me know if i should delete this but was anybody else watching s2 and really noticing that darkness edvin was talking about in wille?

first off the anxiety, depression, & dissociation he experiences is heartbreaking. i mean we saw s1 the constant anxiety, coping mechanisms, & the more physical & violent panic attacks (& maybe a form of sh with him hitting his head/pulling his hair) but the display of his anxiety this time is very different (picking his nails instead, the mouth movement thing edvin mentioned) and ofc not being able to breathe (still with the collar & ties) but it’s all even more repressed than s1. i mean it was heartbreaking bc he really doesn’t have anyone to lean on & he knows he needs to use his role as crown prince in a way he never wanted to in order to get what he wants & so he’s trying to keep that facade together, separate himself like erik (supposedly) did, & even w/ going to the school therapist he’s not actually addressed his anxiety much w/ anyone. i mean him actually throwing up this season, the anxiety taking over his body AGAIN, it’s such an intense and draining state to be in and edvin did an incredible job of adapting wille’s anxiety w/ the new situation. additionally, the scenes where he’s so out of it, literally looks just empty and blank…had me a mess. as much as i hate certain scenes, thinking about wille’s mental health & heartbreak i really do understand (it’s like simon asking “why can’t i just fall in love with him (marcus)? - why can’t i get over this? everyone says it’ll get better so i’m just being dramatic right? why does it still feel like this? what if i could feel it with someone else? desperation from both of them to try and feel anything other than what they do after it all, without each other, feel something close to what they had. it’s the whole point - they cant. they only had what they had because it was them and moving on is more miserable bc everyone involved has a different motive, different expectations, and are all using each other to a certain extent. trying to prove something but all they prove is what exists between simon & wille is real, and right, & cannot be recreated or replaced). okay i got way off topic buT -

back to wille’s state of mind what i was getting at was that darkness was truly there & i genuinely kept waiting for him to possibly hurt himself or really allude to suicidal thoughts. (there were a few lines where he did say just like i feel like i’m gonna die (?) i think it was) & with that true hollow look he had in so many scenes i wouldn’t have been surprised if those ideations were brought up. i never thought wille would actually do that or that that’s where the story was heading, but i just mean that i GET what edvin was saying. it’s darkness of anger, revenge, regret, and wille’s entire mental state where he genuinely feels like it’s never going to stop hurting or get better because he’s lost the one person who gave him hope. that scene where he goes to the like fence in front of the lake (?), listening to music, and then felice comes…i mean flashback to wilmon at the lake, how cold the water is then as a joke, a tease about august (?)…but in this scene it seemed like wille had been just standing there for a while before felice came & i really had this feeling of just disassociation & maybe unconsciously him thinking about the temperature of the lake…not like seriously but i hope what i’m trying to say makes sense.

i just think it was brilliant writing and acting to show how bad the position wille is in really was for him & have him finally start to open up in therapy & with felice & simon.

that being said…

where the fUck was my simon breakdown. (i know we saw a BIT in the last episode my poor baby 😭 he looked absolutely devastated & broken but god like !! i wanted more especially after trying to distract himself with marcus & everything uh. i’m glad he had his song but then !! they took it away)

#young royals #edvin ryding #omar rudberg #wilmon #yr s2 spoilers

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brightgnosis · 3 months

Text

While I'm getting better (slowly), there is kind of some more disappointing / depressing news still- though it's not about me for once around here.

My Husband's really not doing great emotionally. He finally broke down the other day about how depressed and stressed out he's been for months now; he didn't want to say anything because I've been ill and bedbound, and going through my own stuff, and "he didn't want to bother me with his issues too".

He's pretty sure that, since they're finding holes in his Mom's pelvis, and she doesn't seem to really be responding to any of the Cancer treatments since she came out of remission; she just keeps getting worse ... She's probably not going to be around much longer. And I don't really disagree with that? She's a trooper, definitely. But I don't see her lasting through the Multiple Myeloma more than a couple more years, max.

He's worried about after, though, because he and my Father in Law ultimately can't support this house without her disability income, however. Which means they'd have to sell this house and move. But the Farm's too much work to just get it done in any kind of a reasonable time frame- and frankly it's way too far out to be reasonable or feasible if something does happen, anyways. So we'll probably have to sell it and the entire 50 acres with it as well- especially if we even remotely want to be able afford a new house now that everything's over $150,000 here, now (thanks Covid!).

And of course that makes him spiral even more; what happens if we can't sell. What happens if we can't support ourselves. We're going to be homeless. We're going to starve. I'll have to stop taking my meds. I'll be in pain again. He'll have failed me ... The usual spiral kind of stuff. Which turns into Suicidal Ideation, of course, and thoughts of "well if I make it look like an accident, It'll get my life insurance money and It'll be ok"- and I hate that he feels like that so much.

I feel so horrible for him. I've got an appointment made with our GP, though, to see about getting treatment; Talk Therapy and Behavioral Therapies haven't worked for him in the past. So we're going to see about treating his Depression instead- which may, as a byproduct, wind up treating the Anxiety he was initially going in for anyways (which so far has been a bust. And now I wonder if this isn't why; because it's not an issue of Anxiety itself, but rather his Depression).

I just wish I could help him 😭 He does so much, and he still feels like it's not enough; it's not good enough, and he needs to do better for me ... But that man literally carries my entire world.

#Personal #2024 #Trigger Warning #Alphabet Soup #Depression #ReTaming The Farm

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normanbased · 1 year

Note

YOU 🫵

(Writing prompt) How do you think Norman Bates would be different if Psycho (1) was set in modern times?

HEY !! sorry I took so long I was quite literally baking a pie 😭🙏 I got carried away talking about headcanons so don’t mind me <3 if you see any typos no you don’t <333

Personality Stuff

I really don’t think all that much about his personality would change. He’s still a shy, reserved, polite guy who yearns for interaction and has a witty sense of humour.

He’s open to conversation but terrified of intimacy, and of course Mother is still breathing down his neck at all times. He’s less afraid of his sexuality, and is pretty content in the idea that he may be attracted to men. It’s a bit easier to come to terms with that when the world isn’t as hateful. After all, it’s California.

He masks pretty poorly if we’re being real, and the overwhelming nature of the modern era probably doesn’t help that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were more prone to shutting down or struggling with social interactions. Not the most helpful state to be existing in when you have a motel to run.

Plot/Lore Stuff

Most of his life experiences remain the same, aside from some slightly modernised circumstances. For example, there’s no way he could avoid going into the foster care system, but considering I headcanon Sheriff Chambers and his wife being Norman’s foster parents, I’ll just stick with that. Obviously when he turns eighteen he buys the motel and the house back from the county with his inheritance, (which leaves him broke) and after moving back in, Mother begins to manifest in his mind.

He has VHS recordings of news broadcasts about his parents’ deaths that he re-watches over and over sometimes. I think in a strange way he likes being reminded of it, and the pain that comes with it.

He has a phone and an old CRT computer, so he’s certainly seen programs and articles and blog posts about the case — I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s even seen True Crime YouTubers talking about it and trying to psychoanalyse him. bet he even knows about the conspiracy theorists that claim he murdered his parents and that it wasn’t a double suicide after all. He gets morbidly giddy over the fact that he knows they’re right.

When he moves out from the Chambers household, Norman goes right to managing the motel, which goes pretty well considering the old highway has sorta become a tourist destination in and of itself. People wanna relive 1950’s America so the diner, the motel, and a bunch of other spots along the highway actually get a ton of support from visitors as well as the local council to keep tourism high.

Regardless, Norman is still alone and isolated from others most of the time. But he has his computer. The wifi is awful out in the sticks, but the internet kind of becomes a home within a home for Norman. A total escape.

He likes looking up people online - finding their names, their social media, where they work, where they live, and so on. He makes little files on people he really likes. Sometimes he pretends he knows these people in real life and talks about them out loud as if they’re his friends. He’ll even introduce them to Mother to see if she likes them or not, which she almost never does. Hell, maybe he knew Marion Crane long before she ever showed up to the Bates Motel.

Norman is still very sheltered even with access to the internet. I don’t think he’s particularly tech savvy, but he sure does enjoy exploring the depths of the wider net. He’s kind of naive, the sort of person to look up the pyramids on Google Images and just scroll in awe.

He spends most of his time watching taxidermy time-lapses or hunting videos. Sometimes he films his own taxidermy tutorials and occasionally uploads them online. There’s no audio or anything, instead he puts little captions explaining what he’s doing with smiley faces and stuff :o) He gets not a lot of views, but all the comments are usually nice fellers from across the country complimenting his technique and asking where he bought his chemicals.

Unfortunately, he’s also into some really dodgy forums and sites. He has an unhealthy, obsessive curiosity for shock content and gore. It doesn’t arouse him or anything - at least, he doesn’t seem to think it does. He just gets overcome sometimes by a deeply rooted fascination for it.

He likes posting to shock sites, too. He mostly uploads clips and pictures of him poisoning birds or wringing their necks before he stuffs them. He has to kill them anyway, that’s how he rationalises it, so he might as well make posts. He loves reading the responses - whether the comments are negative or not, he revels in it. He doesn’t care if there are trolls or fetishists clogging up the replies, he just wants any attention he can get.

Somewhere deep in his hard drive he has a video of him doing taxidermy on his mother’s corpse. Every now and then he debates posting it to a shock site and getting a metric ton of attention and views, but he never does.

He doesn’t watch pornography, mainly because Mother would have a thing or two to say about it. There’s been one or two times he’s emerged from a fugue state to find hammers next to his CRT, so he doesn’t want to push his luck and lose his only source of true freedom.

Silly Stuff

He’s big on 70’s-80’s fashion. He likes sweater vests and saddle shoes and oversized button-ups. He even has aviators like a proper serial killer, but he wouldn’t find it very funny if you made that joke.

His music tastes can go anywhere from country to classic to punk rock. He likes listening to weird experimental rock music when his mood is low, and pop/classic country when he’s happy :]]

He doesn’t watch a lot of TV, but he used to enjoy watching late-night reruns of old cartoons. When his cable eventually got cut off he didn’t bother renewing it, you can just pirate stuff online anyways.

He doesn’t get memes. Sorry. That stuff is beyond him.

#ask #Norman Bates #psycho 1960 #headcanons

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astrocalypse · 3 months

Text

Y'know what? FUCK YOU*MAKES A VITA ET MORS OC*

Tw: Self harm, suicide, that kinda shit :3

Ok so this miserable girlypop (I have no name for her yet) She does portraits, photographs, even documents Morte's life for Morte WITHOUT GETTING PAID, IT'S ALL PASSION. Because yk, Morte. And as she should.

She seriously loves him as a whole but she doesn't want to confess

It's not only his looks or some shit that you'll normally crush on she loves him for everything. EVEN imagining that they spend their lives together, yeah, like- with kids and shit.

The more time they spent with each other, the more her love for him grows.

Her mood depends on him.

Admires Morte like a god

LOVES MORTE LIKE ONE SHOULD LOVE LIFE ITSELF BUT THAT'S TOO BAD CUZ SHE DOESN'T LOVE HERSELF (ME FR)

When she first met Morte she was like "HOLY SHIT DID I JUST TALKED TO A FUCKING ANGEL???!!!"

And that's where her mentally ill ass started to like him

She sorta has an obsession with Morte (obvi). She's devoted to him and he knows that duhhhh

Morte likes being treated like a god huh? (Is he not?) Well in terms of a DEVOTEE, then he hit the jackpot!

At first she believed he wasn't human. After all, how can someone be so.... Beautiful? Like a god? (Hahah)

If she could, she would move mountains just to be with him (aweeee you sad little motherfucker)

Always compliments Morte like he's some sort of god or something YIPEEEE!!!! Call her a worshiper atp lmao

Like, just dress a little fancier... Actually no- you don't have to dress nicely Morte. As long as you exist, this bitch is gonna give her soul to you.

"Omg you look really wonderful in that attire!!!!! Any woman would fall and maybe die for you!! ^_^ *insert words of pure admiration* May I take a picture??? Make another painting maybe??"

Gets worried for Morte more than she should for herself

Prioritizes Morte

Over a hundred paintings of Morte

Tons of photos of him as well

Likes writing about him

Said "You're my everything" to Morte in french, hoping he'd be confused.

Then she found out he can actually speak french and ohh boyy she died a little

Most of her portraits are perfect. If it's not good enough (in her eyes or what she thinks Morte thinks), well..;

She hurts herself when she thinks Morte doesn't like her stuff she made for him

like one time she bruised her thighs because Morte didn't compliment her painting for him like he did the last time, it sounded dry.

"I'm sorry for being too clingy, Morte..... :("

Her thoughts on the daily:

"Am I even worthy of being around him?"

"What if Morte finds me annoying?"

"What if my compliments doesn't sound genuine? I'm scared."

"Am I appreciating him for being him or is it just because of his looks..?"

"What if he thinks I'm just trying to get him?"

"What if he secretly hates me?"

"He probably hates how clingy I am"

"He hates me."

*Starts self harming* (girlypop cmon 😞)

Stays up late thinking about him and ends up crying cuz she thinks he doesn't care for her HAHAHAHAH

She knows what he does actually (kept it in secret so she doesn't get killed) But does she care? No!!

Likes being used as an alibi if anyone dares to be suspicious of Morte.

Would suffer for him.

Would kill for him.

Would DIE for him.

Literally anything for Morte (HAHAHAH)

When Morte died she did horrible things to herself (you can guess what those are)

She also cried for 7 MONTHS

Ever since Morte's death, she's the one who keeps taking care of his and Roxanne's graves (?)

Goes from complimenting to sobbing to his grave

Drawings of Morte EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Always says "I love you" before she leaves like girl he don't love you shut yo corny ahh 😭💀🙏

Always hangs out on his grave. People find it weird asf bc why are you hanging out in THAT place?? There's a serial killer buried there..

Compliments Roxanne too so she doesn't feel left out :>

She documented his life and kept painting him until she finally killed herself, hoping to see Morte in the afterlife.

Ew cringe 🤢

I'M REALLY SORRY ABOUT THIS CRINGE OC INSERT SHIT @aestheticghostie 🙏🙏🙏

I JUST MADE HER YESTERDAY (02.25.23) LMAO I MIGHT REDO THIS AT SOME POINT

#aestheticghostie #astrocalypse #oc concept #vita et mors #oc #hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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bewby · 1 year

Text

yeah no you know what i try so fucking hard to love my mom and to jzst have a normal relationship with her even though she has sucked so fucking bad raising me all my life and is literally the reason i'm so fucking scared and avoidant all the time but she keeps on being terrible whenever i tell her things that she doesn't like to hear like me wanting to quit my job but i couldn't even though i cried on my 2nd day of work so fucking hard they yelled at me and threatened me with violence to go to my shift 😂😂😂

or when i talk to her about how i'm never motivated to do anything she talks about how it's not motivation it's just "laziness" holy fuck and tje amount of times i have tried to tell her this is not true and she fucking yells at me. the only reason i need to maintain peace with my parents is cause otherwise i'd fr be homeless and struggling so much i need to live with them because i have nothing in my life figured out. it sucks so bad. because it genuinely drains the life out of me to live here and nobody knows because i try so hard to just be okay with my mom but it turns out no matter how many nice moments we have together she turns out to still be rotten inside and it makes me so sad i'm literally crying rn IJFJDHHHJ AND LIKE SURE! fuck them! fucj tjem i have given up on my parents long ago but it still makes me so sick because they're so good at making it seem like they're great parents but they genuinely are terrible

and i fucking hate saying this because i know they have it hard but they shouldn't have fucking subjected me to all that shit and hit me and been emotionally distant and dismissive of my problems. like i cannot stress wnough how much i have fucking tried and all that came from them was them threatening me with suicide, violence, saying i'm young and don't know anything 😂😂😂😂

and if anyone even tries to tell me "wow you're harsh you should go easy on your parents" DO YOU FUCKING THINK I DON'T TRY THAT AND EVERYDAY I'M MET WITH DISSAPOINTMENR 😂😂😂😂 today i wanted to just wear a fucking jacket i like out and my mom had s fucking Temper tantrum like a little fucking baby like holy fucking shit she was like about to cry becazse she didn't fucking LIKE A JACKET I WEAR I AM FUCKING 21 YEARS OLD I'M 21 DO I HAVE TO REMIND EVERYONE I'M FUCKING 21 YEARS OLD AND I HAVE TO STILL ARGUE WITH HER EVERYDAY ABOUT WHAT I AM ALLOWED TO FUCKING WEAR FUCK OFF OH MY GOD FUCK OFFFF FUCK OFF I WANNA FUCKING KILL MYDELF AND NOBOFY FUCKING GETS IT IT MUST BE SO NICE TO HAVE LOVING PARENTS😭😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

#insanely angry rant about my parents 😂.

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wishful-soda · 2 years

Note

Firstly I want to state that this ask is going to be long rant dear wishful-soda but I feel like your blog is such a nice and safe space for this type of renting, especially for us daniel girlies❤ So here I go...😅

For us Daniel girlies this season has been so difficult😭Daniel might not be performing very well this year-and I'm sure every fan is aware of this- but he doesn't deserve this treatmeant either. He has been basically through hell this year and there are people saying that he deserves this and also criticize us fans that we are going over the top to defend him. Like is this people are real?? Do they read the same things as we do?? Of course we might be little biased sometimes because because he is our favorite driver but I genuinely think that these people are just horrible. He has been slandered and dragged through entire media. I feel so sad for him because when things like this happen in any type of sport, people forget the past achievements and the talent of the said person. Honestly, I am on the fucking verge of a mental breakdown because of this news that are coming out everyday. Then I think if I am like this I CAN NOT imagine how this situation is like for Daniel.

That joke of a man named Zak Brown is doing everything in his power to push Daniel out of his seat while Lando gets royalty treatment from him. Please don't get me wrong on this sentence. I don't hate Lando, on the contrary I like him very much and I think he is a very talented driver but I'm just using it to make a comparison how badly Zak treats Daniel.

Not only he treats Daniel very poorly, he is giving Mclaren a very hard time. This is is very old and respectable one and now it is nothing but a mess and needs to do a very serious PR damage control and I say this as a person who studied Business Administartion.

This PR suicide leads me to think from a company-point as well. In this day of age, PR and Marketing is everything and after all Mclaren Racing is a company under The Mclaren Group and it has it's owners and board members. My mind is LITERALLY BLOWN AWAY that how are this people allowing him offering a seat that is already taken to a lot of people?! It is beyond unprofessional. He makes them look very bad. It doesn't matter that he is the CEO unless he owns 51% of that company(which I don't have the knowledege of), he will do what the board members tells him to do-for this type of big decisions. At this point, I think that he keeps it up like this, the only person that is going to be replaced will be him because he is getting a lot of criticism and hate at the moment because the team is like a circus right now.

Okay my rent is done dear wishful-soda😅 And I will be going back to my corner, thinking about how nice it would be that Cyril to return to F1 and reunited with his baby boy Daniel and save him from this horrible situation ❤️‍🩹 #cyrilwouldnever #cyrilabiteboulsupremacy💯

And let us not forget to do a prayer circle for Daniel everyone. Let us hope and pray that he will get over this horrible situation and afterwards that he will enter his villian era to prove this people wrong 😉🙏🏻✨️

Hi baybes! You are absolutely right, this is a safe space for ranting.

You are totally right. This has been a tough season for Daniel. And somehow having a tough first half of a season, erases all the good he's done in the past in some people's eyes. It's incredibly illogical, but that's exactly how he's being treated now. As if he's never done anything worth shit in his career when he's actually done quite a bit and is a fucking damn good driver.

Meanwhile, we're hearing how legendary and amazing Lando is. I'm not saying he's not a good driver, but to simply compare the two, Lando just doesn't have better results except for this first half of the season. So the narrative is stemming from somewhere, it all comes from somewhere and I think it's 10000% from the toxicity of McLaren. Right in line with the PR nightmare you mentioned. They are not showing that they value Daniel and think he's worth working with. They're not showing that they know he's a killer driver but is just struggling with the fucking tractor beast of a car they've given him this year.

I would fucking LOVE to see Zak get replaced as CEO. As an American, I don't love the picture he paints of us. He fulfills a lot of shit stereotypes. He's also just a garbage human in general so there's that too. I will legit throw a party if they replace him, regardless if Daniel is on the team or not, I just want to see him GONE.

and you're right; CYRIL WOULD NEVER.

Hope you have a good rest of your day bby, and Daniel girl rants are always welcome here 😘💖💖

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sllhouettedreams · 1 year

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Hi, I just read Forehead kisses and wanted to re-read Chasing Tomorrow. My simple question is do you have a backup of what you delete? More importantly why deprive the world of AFTG of such well written fics? Please bring them back 🙏😭

Yes, I have kept what I had written for chasing tomorrow and the two part I had planned afterward. I appreciate you so much for coming to ask about it and show your support. I honestly didn't think people would notice or care enough. While there is a tiny sliver of myself that believed the story just didn't matter to anyone else... the 'why' is really, really complicated.

The official answer is that... Objectively, it's not a very well-written story and I should have spent more time than I did to edit and piece each chapter together. Unfortunately, as I usually do with things I write (with very few exceptions) I began to hate it? Usually, even when I hate things, I don't delete them. But that combined with what little feedback received and a few weird bookmark notes a few people added, I felt uncomfortable leaving it up even as an orphaned story. I also deleted the other AFTG fics I had posted on AO3.

Every few weeks I consider going back to it, to fix it up and finish what I started because I still like the direction I went with it and the interpretation of canon I had planned, but something something seasonal depression. something something long personal story under the cut.

To summarize what's under the cut: I wrote Chasing Tomorrow to deal with a time in my life that was highly emotional and I'm not, currently, in the headspace to revisit or continue with Trusting Tomorrow and Tomorrow, After All (which would be the third post-canon continuation). I really, really do want to, though. Eventually, I will.

This is the sad bit so stop reading if you don't want to read about death, abuse (including sexual), and suicide mention in a long emotional ramble.

So I read AFTG for the first time in May of last year when I got COVID. It was a great distraction from being sick enough I couldn't move. I immediately was obsessed, actually.

Here's the thing, my family is kind of a fractured mess. I lived through poverty, homelessness, and abuse, physical, verbal, emotional, and even sexual. So I related to every single character (particularly andrew and neil, which is common, I think), on some level.

So this outrageous, messed up fucking story, meant a lot to me? As stupid as it sounds, I guess.

Anyways, here comes the sad part.

Literally the next week after I finished reading AFTG, my sister died. At the time, we didn't know what had happened to her and why she died so young-- she struggled with mental health and her disabilities a lot so everyone, even people I didn't know speculated it was suicide as she had attempted it before, more than once. I very nearly deleted my facebook because of the people who contacted me and things they said.

Less than two months later, my dad passed away, too. It was around this time that we finally learned how my sister had died as well. I wasn't on good terms with either my sister or father. I always put off making things right for many reasons. Pride, not enough time, exhaustion, the amount of emotional labor they both had always required, "if they wanted to fix things they would try" blahblahblah. I thought I had more time, see?

I became kind of obsessed with AFTG because well, outside of connecting with the characters, there's the whole motif of death and dying and meeting an inevitable end- not knowing if you have the power to change anything but trying your damnedest anyway, but accepting the worst outcome should it happen. It all seemed very profound to me at the time. And it was a distraction from all the emotions I was dealing with.

But, eventually emotions demand to be felt.

So in between those deaths, I began to write Chasing Tomorrow. It began as an exploration of grief and the burning desire to have changed something, anything, to prevent loss. It was a story that, I felt, was about love and the destruction it leaves behind when the person embodying it dies. About second, third, fourth chances to make things right. If there was a magical moment that could have fixed everything, about going back and not missing it that time.

When it was finished, I had no better understanding of what actually happened, of what I could have done, and what life will be like now without her. It was an outlet, but in the end I didn't get any satisfaction from it.

Writing it out now, and opening up about why I wrote it and what I thought it would do for me, I'm understanding exactly why I resent it now. It feels stupid, actually.

#This is way more than you asked for or expected #but it is the truth #ask

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alistairlowes · 4 months

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i survived s7 i'm freee. by far worst season. if i was an actor and they handed me this script i'd quit but each to their own

- …. not omar again for christ’s sake enough

- barbie's mom advocating for that guy to be expeled but she didn't lift a finger to try and expel her daughters rapists ofc

- skam espana guy

- y'all just met….

- so let me get this straight… omar and joel met after joel (a minor) was kicked out of his house for being gay and ended up homeless and then seeked help from youth center where omar (a 20yo) worked. and omar ended up fucking him… and now they are dating and living together. PREDATOR BEHAVIOUR. no… no. jail. he should not be around kids that need help that's fucking disgusting i hate him gtfo!!!

- elite wikia says joel is 16 but people on reddit keep arguing about the age lmao as if any age that's 16-18 makes it better when thEY FUCKING MET IN YOUTH CENTER WHERE HE WAS SUPPOSE TO HELP SOMEONE IN A VULNERABLE POSITION AND INSTEAD HE DECIDED TO FUCK HIM. also they said they met a year ago so even if he was 18 now he was still underage then.

- „you sound like a creep“

„no it's ok i'm with joel 🤪“

that just makes it worse you fucking fuck let everyone know you're sleeping with a student while working in the school

- ow omar is depressed? hope that the depression wins this round 🥂

- ah a half sister we didn't know anything about until now. sure why not

- eric is interesting portrayal of mental illness and sef harm. omar tho… idc if he kills himself

- BRO WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IS THAT NOT HIS MOTHER?????? WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG??? THIS CROSSED LINES WHAT THE HELL ☠️☠️☠️😭😭😭

- sara fucking sucks both her and her shitty bf can get fucked

- ok so joel is staying with omar because:

a) he doesn't want to be homeless again

b) he is afraid omar will attempt suicide

oh yeah great relationship

- chloe told ivan thank fuck!!!!

- i support ivan and joel cuz i want joel as far as possible from omar and legit least toxic ship so far

- idc about barbie and her bf and whatever money laundering drama is happening in here

- eric is wasted opportunity because they can't write for shit. i don't feel anything for the fact he wants to commit suicide because they never made me care about him

- literally lost the parents plot i can't be bothered

- idk how does this keep getting renewed like i'd understand some camp but this is just insane at this point

- i thought omar left but no :)))

- people are getting arrested i have no idea why idc

- killing that guy was only good thing this bitch did the whole season

- JOEL FOR GODS SAKEEEEE

- i don't care about a single character bye😭😭