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#i was about to say something controversial in my reply
alarrytale · 9 months
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Hi Marte!
I would like add a bit into the theme of Louis being ‘one of the girls’. First of all, that photo of Louis from like 2011(?) is great, I’ve never seen it and I loved it! IMO Louis might have his semi-artificial laddy lad image but also he has women in his team and the most seen ones are Krystle and Helen and Louis himself shared few pictures of hanging out with them like 2 months ago and that one picture is from some club where they sit together at some lounge and it reminds me that old photo you posted yesterday like it definitely has that ‘one of the girls’ vibe. And as it feels to me he really loves to be surrounded with friends and take his band and crew as friends, you can see both Krystle and Helen hangout with him quite often and someone even wrote that he and Krysten give trouble siblings vibe (or something like that, I don’t remember the phrase as it literally was). So I don’t think he has changes but we just don’t see it much.
This theme also reminds me of Harry as ‘one of the girlies’ which I loved so much during his tour. On one hand yes, it was for the show and part of his showman skills but on the other hand I like to think he doesn’t really need to pretend and can be this flamboyant girlie if this word connection makes sence. And what I totally loved were all of his “Sister!” speeches like for me it gave me all those feelings like gay man talking to his female friends and giving advices because he knows men (and his man haha). Some fans (probably hets) found it cringe that he called fans sister but for me it was totally cute.
Hello, anon!
I get that vibe from both of them too. The difference is that for Louis his lad image is pushed so hard, we hardly never get to see him like that anymore. I also think that's why some of the newer fans, who haven't seen that side of him, have a very different view on him than i do. Harry shows that side of him more. I love when he's calling fans 'sista' too.
Here's one more for you:
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Ps. If you want to see more pics like that check out my 'fetus friday' tag (i used to post rare or unseens of fetus harry and louis every friday back in like 2013?. I still have some rare or unseen pics in my drafts i think...buried somewhere...) also check the tags 'fetus louis' or 'fetus harry'.
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oceanwithouthermoon · 20 days
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imo everyone who insists that saikis life was perfect and he was a spoiled brat complaining about nothing are just purposefully ignoring and misinterpreting the whole manga simply because they like other characters better and want to make up scenarios to make their fav seem like a precious little victim in every situation
its hard to explain but i see it happen a lot with specifically people who have dedicated accounts for other characters and constantly misattribute every issue to "saikis such a baby, my character has it way worse!" "saiki hurt my babys feelings once so i hate him!" "saikis such a spoiled brat, my baby has a way shittier life and never complains about it!" "saiki hurt my poor precious fav once so hes an abusive monster!"
and said "shittier life" that they "never complain" about is either the persons headcanons (literally made up) or... the character DOES complain about it and the person takes those words at FACE VALUE but ignores everything else, including things that actually HAPPEN right in front of our eyes
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romeoandromeo · 4 months
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I shouldn't comment on Reddit posts because I always inevitably get some weird guy making an incredibly rude and disgusting comment to me. What gives go play with your cheesy unwashed dick I'm sure that'll be more pleasurable than whatever supposed justice you think you're doing because you're offended at whatever I said
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sooshihu · 2 months
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charles leclerc x reader ~ instagram au
prompt: the great looking driver we all know and love creates controversy with his new and surprisingly young girlfriend
warnings: age gap
january 5 2024
yourusername shared a story
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yourbestfriend liked your story
user liked your story
charles_leclerc started following you
charles_leclerc liked your story
user liked your story
user liked your story
wagsf1
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liked by user, user and others
wagsf1 !charles leclerc has been spotted with an unknown girl outside of a club in monaco!
after this picture was taken he allegedly drove off in his new ferrari with the girl
comments
user she does look like his type that’s for sure
user YALL I FOUND HER SHE LITERALLY JUST TURNED 18 LAST NIGHT
user im sorry WHAT
user mr leclerc going younger and younger i see
user didn’t he like break up with his girlfriend like 3 weeks ago?😭
user our fav walking red flag🥰
user oh to be her…
and 457 more
february 2 2024
yourusername
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liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and others
yourusername 💦☀️🌊🤍
comments
yourbestfriend 😍
user @charles_leclerc mr hitting on fresh 18s that you?🥰
user that’s deff charles’ yacht
user my guess is she’s going after his money to pay off those student loans
yourusername how did you know🤭
and 54 more
f1gossip
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liked by user, user and others
f1gossip charles leclerc with his supposed new and very young girlfriend😉 let us know your view on this couple!
comments
user still think she’s after the money
user why you all hating we don’t know anything about her yet💀
user fr like calm down😭
user she can’t be mature enough for him she’s just a kid
user he wouldn’t be with her if she wasn’t
user i saw her instagram she doesn’t look like the bitch yall make her out to be just saying
and 374 more
april 2 2024
yourusername added a story
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charles_leclerc liked your story
charles_leclerc replied to your story:
je t'aime, magnifique❤️ (i love you, gorgeous)
april 25 2024
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc and others
yourusername joy of missing out 🤍 enjoy the little moments you share with only yourself
comments
charles_leclerc 🤍
user it’s over he commented a heart on her post they’re offcial😔
user am i the only one who LOVES her vibe?😍
user deff not! she seems like a very nice and humble person to me i don’t know why she was getting so much hate
user “she’s just 18 blah blah blah” it’s not your relationship leave her alone
yourusername i love you
user the age gap is kinda wild tho
user hair care routine??
may 3 2024
charles_leclerc added a story
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user liked your story
user liked your story
yourusername replied to your story: ❤️
yourusername replied to your story: ❤️
yourusername replied to your story: ❤️
yourusername replied to your story: ❤️❤️❤️
yourusername added a story
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may 19 2024
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others
yourusername haters be hating because they don’t wake up next to charles leclerc like i do
comments
user WERE YOU SILENT OR SILENCED DEAR HATERS
charles_leclerc wouldn’t want it any other way🤭
user THE CAPTION SHUT UP I LOVE HER
user do you see his smile? and yall still think she can’t make him happy cause she’s ‘too young’💀
user Something About You - Eyedress, Dent May ~ 0:44
user the amount of things i’d do to wake up next to either of them is concerning
user every book girlie dreaming about their age gap trope
and 487 others
charles_leclerc
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liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and others
charles_leclerc she’s gotta pay off those student loans somehow, am i right?
(last pic is me proudly taking all of the pics above)
comments
user charles simping for yn is so real omg
user love how they’re making fun of the gold digger rumours😭
user charles.jpg when?
user i just know it would be full of yn pls
scuderiaferrari after the loans are payed off we suggest buying her a ferrari of her own 👀
user the unseriousness of their hard launch captions are highlights of my day
user she’s living our dream fr
user can’t decide if i wanna be him or her
and 1,592 others
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machine-saint · 9 months
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the op of that "you should restart your computer every few days" post blocked me so i'm going to perform the full hater move of writing my own post to explain why he's wrong
why should you listen to me: took operating system design and a "how to go from transistors to a pipelined CPU" class in college, i have several servers (one physical, four virtual) that i maintain, i use nixos which is the linux distribution for people who are even bigger fucking nerds about computers than the typical linux user. i also ran this past the other people i know that are similarly tech competent and they also agreed OP is wrong (haven't run this post by them but nothing i say here is controversial).
anyway the tl;dr here is:
you don't need to shut down or restart your computer unless something is wrong or you need to install updates
i think this misconception that restarting is necessary comes from the fact that restarting often fixes problems, and so people think that the problems are because of the not restarting. this is, generally, not true. in most cases there's some specific program (or part of the operating system) that's gotten into a bad state, and restarting that one program would fix it. but restarting is easier since you don't have to identify specifically what's gone wrong. the most common problem i can think of that wouldn't fall under this category is your graphics card drivers fucking up; that's not something you can easily reinitialize without restarting the entire OS.
this isn't saying that restarting is a bad step; if you don't want to bother trying to figure out the problem, it's not a bad first go. personally, if something goes wrong i like to try to solve it without a restart, but i also know way, way more about computers than most people.
as more evidence to point to this, i would point out that servers are typically not restarted unless there's a specific need. this is not because they run special operating systems or have special parts; people can and do run servers using commodity consumer hardware, and while linux is much more common in the server world, it doesn't have any special features to make it more capable of long operation. my server with the longest uptime is 9 months, and i'd have one with even more uptime than that if i hadn't fucked it up so bad two months ago i had to restore from a full disk backup. the laptop i'm typing this on has about a month of uptime (including time spent in sleep mode). i've had servers with uptimes measuring in years.
there's also a lot of people that think that the parts being at an elevated temperature just from running is harmful. this is also, in general, not true. i'd be worried about running it at 100% full blast CPU/GPU for months on end, but nobody reading this post is doing that.
the other reason i see a lot is energy use. the typical energy use of a computer not doing anything is like... 20-30 watts. this is about two or three lightbulbs worth. that's not nothing, but it's not a lot to be concerned over. in terms of monetary cost, that's maybe $10 on your power bill. if it's in sleep mode it's even less, and if it's in full-blown hibernation mode it's literally zero.
there are also people in the replies to that post giving reasons. all of them are false.
temporary files generally don't use enough disk space to be worth worrying about
programs that leak memory return it all to the OS when they're closed, so it's enough to just close the program itself. and the OS generally doesn't leak memory.
'clearing your RAM' is not a thing you need to do. neither is resetting your registry values.
your computer can absolutely use disk space from deleted files without a restart. i've taken a server that was almost completely full, deleted a bunch of unnecessary files, and it continued fine without a restart.
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fisheshavegill · 3 months
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--- Crazy Rich Asians.
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「 ✦ CRA ✦ 」
sunghoon fanfic! fem reader!
" its not my job to make you feel like a man, i can't make you something you're not "
word count : 2.1k
no proof read
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
The Park Family was widely known for their lavish lifestyle, grandeur mansions, and a fleet of luxury cars that would make anyone envious. They were considered to be one of the most prestigious families in the entire country. However, despite their perfect appearance, some rumors were circulating about their family that were quite controversial. Despite the neatly ironed curtains and immaculate gardens that surrounded their mansions, there were whispers of deceit, betrayal, and scandal that lurked behind their opulent lifestyle. What was going on behind closed doors was anyone's guess, but it was clear that there was more to the Park Family than met the eye.
CURRENT TIME
Screaming and then proceeded to throw a flower vase.
After a few moments of throwing various items on the floor in a fit of frustration, you began to feel winded and paused to catch your breath.
You stood there, panting heavily, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye and turned to see two of the maids peering at you through the small gap in the partially closed door.
Their eyes widened in surprise as you locked gazes with them.
The fear in their faces as they realized they had been caught spying on you. Without a word, they quickly turned and scurried away, leaving you alone in the now-quiet room.
As they stormed out of the room, you slammed the door shut with a loud bang. The only witnesses to this scene were the maids, who stood their peering to you earlier, unsure of what to do or say.
The maids were now busy working downstairs, cleaning and cooking the kitchen for their owner’s lunch. As they worked, they engaged in a conversation about their owner’s wife, Mrs. Park. One of the maids curiously asked, "What's been happening with Mrs. Park lately?" The other maid, who was chopping some fresh carrots, replied, "I heard a rumor that she saw a leaked photo of Mr. Park sleeping with another woman while he was on a business trip." 
The head maid overheard their conversation while she was inspecting the house and immediately intervened. She scolded the maids and reminded them of their duties. She warned them that their laziness and idle talk could cost them their jobs. She was a strict disciplinarian and expected her staff to uphold the highest standards of professionalism. 
The two maids quickly returned to their duties, one mopping the kitchen floor while the other continued to chop the vegetables. The head maid kept a watchful eye on her staff, ensuring that they performed their duties to the best of their abilities.
The head maid, is an elderly woman who has been with the Park family for decades. She started working for them when Mr. Park Sunghoon was just a baby and has since then become a trusted and loyal member of the family. With her extensive experience, she has become an invaluable asset to the household, where she oversees the smooth running of the daily activities.
However, due to some reason, Mr. Park Sunghoon had requested that the head maid be transferred to his house. It is not clear what prompted this request, but it is believed that he wanted her to oversee the daily running of his house and his ‘wife’. Despite the move, the head maid continues to be a highly respected and valued member of the Park family.
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SUNGHOON’S POV 
Seated at a long glass table with his employees, he listened as they discussed their company's upcoming plans. However, he couldn't help feeling bored as the conversation revolved around collaborating with other brands, something he strongly despises. 
His tired eyes drifted towards the window where he gazed at the bustling streets and towering buildings of the city. He let out a deep, tired sigh, feeling drained by the conversation with a disinterested expression on his face, he picked up his glass of champagne and slowly made his way towards the door, that signaled the employees that he expects the team to revisit the plan and make necessary revisions as quickly as possible.
 The way he closes the door conveyed a strong sense of disappointment, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that he was not satisfied with the outcome of the meeting.
As Sunghoon walks swiftly, his secretary rushes to catch up with him, panting slightly. The secretary takes a deep breath  "Mr. Park, I'm sorry to inform you that your head maid has called multiple times during the meeting."
Sunghoon stops walking abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise and frustration. He turns to his secretary, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I thought it wasn't urgent." The secretary stammers 
Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief and reaches out his hand, , "Give me my phone." The secretary quickly retrieves it from her pocket and hands it over to Sunghoon.
It was a rare occurrence to witness the head maid calling. However, whenever she did, it was an indication that something serious was happening in the house.  He hurriedly  started walking back to his office, all the while trying to reach the head maid on the phone. Despite his attempts, the head maid remained unresponsive. 
As he sinks into his black leather desk chair, his frustration mounts with each unsuccessful redial of the head maid's number. Despite his efforts, the call won't connect. Under his breath, he mutters a string of expletives, his irritation palpable.
As Mr. Park was sitting in his office, his secretary was quietly shuffling papers in the corner. Suddenly, he looked up at her  "Please reschedule everything today and move it by tomorrow." He then finished the last sip of his champagne and left the office.
As he stepped out of the building, he squinted his eyes for a few seconds before noticing his car had arrived. He walked towards the service driver, who was already standing next to the vehicle.  While thanking the driver for delivering his car.  He firmly stated that he would be driving, eager to take control of the vehicle himself. The driver handed over the keys, and he quickly got into the car, buckling up his seatbelt and starting the engine. 
As he drove down the winding road towards his mansion, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he was finally back home. With one hand on the steering wheel, he frantically dialed the number of the head maid, hoping to catch up on whats happening. The other hand nervously tapped against the car's leather interior.
The drive wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity to him. Finally, he arrived at his exquisite mansion, which stood tall and proud amidst the lush greenery of the surrounding garden. He parked his car near the entrance and stepped out, taking in the fresh scent of the blooming flowers and the cool breeze that rustled through the trees.
As he approached the front door, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for the last time he had been here. It had been weeks since he had set foot in his own home.  The scent of the house felt so surreal for him because he hadn't come home yet ever since he went on a business trip. 
As he made his way towards the colossal doors, he couldn't help but observe the gloomy atmosphere of the house. The emptiness of the space was palpable and the silence was deafening. However, amidst the eerie stillness, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of keys clacking and female whispers that seemed to be discussing how they were going to open the door. 
The head maid was nowhere to be found. But just in the right time he saw her walking down the stairs towards him. 
“Long time no see, Sunghoon,” the head maid said with a deep bow.
“Why weren’t you picking up the phone?” Sunghoon asked, raising his eyebrows in frustration.
“My apologies, I must have left it somewhere,” the head maid replied, looking around nervously.
“So, what brings me here then?” Sunghoon asked, trying to control his temper.
“Your wife,” the head maid replied, her voice hushed.
Sunghoon's face contorted with anger. "What happened to her?" he demanded to know.
“She has locked herself in the bedroom since lunchtime and she hasn’t been eating for the past few days,” the head maid explained, her tone concerned.
“I suppose that you have the keys to it,” Sunghoon said, trying to remain calm.
“I don't. She must have kept it in her hands,” the head maid replied with a shrug, sensing Sunghoon's frustration.
Sunghoon deeply sighed in frustration and put his palm to his forehead. He went upstairs and moved out the two maids who had been trying to find the right keys for hours. He knew that his wife was going through a tough time, but his impatience was getting the best of him. He deeply sighed before knocking on the door.
“Love, it’s me, Sunghoon. Open the door, please. I’m begging you,” he pleaded as he knocked on the door repeatedly.
He waited for a response but still heard nothing. So he repetitively knocked on the door and kept calling his wife on the phone with his other hand.
Sunghoon  in question was known for his exceedingly brief fuse, a characteristic that had been observed by the household staff to be progressively deteriorating. It was evident that his temper was getting worse as he grows up, as all the housemaids could sense Sunghoon's fury even from a distance when his wife wasn’t replying. The tense atmosphere in the household was palpable, and it seemed that everyone was walking on eggshells, afraid to set him off.
Without any hesitation, Sunghoon mustered all his strength and threw his shoulder into the locked door.
But no matter how hard he pushed, it just wouldn't budge. Frustrated, he stepped back to assess the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to take a different approach. He used all his leg strength to deliver multiple kicks.
The door creaked and groaned under the force, but it soon gave way.
Despite the loud noise, no one came to stop him. After all, it was his house and he had every right to do as he pleased. 
As he opened the door to the room, he was taken aback by the sight that greeted him.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the spacious room as he looked down to see pieces of glass scattered all over the polished marble floor.
He couldn't help but wonder what had happened in the room. As he inspected the whole room, he noticed that you were nowhere to be seen. However, the sound of running water caught his attention, and he realized that you must be in the bathroom.
He quickly made his way towards the bathroom, pushing aside broken glass that crunched beneath his feet. The maids followed him cautiously. Reaching the bathroom door, he found it closed. Without wasting any time, he knocked gently on the door, hoping you would answer. As he waited for a response, he let out a sigh, still trying to piece together what had happened.
As he stood outside the bathroom door, "Love, it's me, Sunghoon." He waited for an answer but didn't get any response. After 5 seconds of silence, he opened the door. There, he found you sitting on the bathroom floor, with the shower head pouring cold water over you. The maids, including the head maid, who were present in the room, were in shock at the sight of you.
Without wasting any time, Sunghoon sprang into action and swiftly turned off the running water. He carefully checked your pulse to see if there were any signs of life.
Upon discovering that you were still alive. In a calm and steady voice, he informed the maid that you had fainted but were still breathing. "Please call emergency services right away," he said, gesturing towards the door. The maid nodded and immediately left to make the call. Sunghoon remained by your side, , as he waited for the help to arrive.
Sunghoon lifted you up in his arms and carried you to the other room. As he walked through the space, his attention was drawn to the state of the room you shared together. He couldn't help but notice the mess that you accumulated, with clothes, books, and other items scattered all over the place.
...... TO BE CONTINUED  .....
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this was all written for three hours so yk i was kinda rushing AHHAHAHHA
++ made a few edits because i reread this story and the ending kinda made me feel ehhhh
_
Continuation - C.R.A II
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leclercsbunny · 9 months
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maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz
part five ♡ masterlist
anasainzvdec posted a story 12m ago
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blanca watches you convene with ana animatedly, nodding and laughing along with the both of you as per usual, though she held an air of reservation and restraint, being deep in thought.
"sorry, i have an urge to use the restroom again." you sheepishly cut through her story.
"again? your bladder's gotten small or something?" ana comments amusedly.
"let me go with you." blanca stands up from her seat, making a face. "i think the oj got to me aswell." you gestured towards her smugly, as if to tell ana; look, i'm not alone in my struggles.
"fine, but hurry back." she playfully rolls her eyes.
blanca hooks her arm around yours, and you both depart to the restroom. you made small talk on the way, and went to do your business separately.
when you left the stall to wash your hands, blanca was already there. she looked as if she was... waiting for you. she looked serious, and somehow, bothered.
"is everything alright?" you ask her, feeling your heart drop.
"i say this out of the love i have for you and carlos." blanca utters slowly, watching your expression change. "but does he know?"
"i don't know what you're talking about, blanca." you wave her off, suddenly turning defensive.
"i'm sorry if i'm overstepping... but i cannot help but notice all these, very subtle tells." she says softly, not wanting you to get agitated. "you're suddenly queasy when it comes to certain foods, and you're drawn to sweets. like, crazy partial to them. you use the bathroom often, your waist is just.." she measures it with her hand. "and i think we've cultivated a friendship comfortable enough for a brazen comment about the evident size of your... nether regions."
"blanca," you hiss, feeling your cheeks warm with both embarassment and indignance, as you cover your body from her all knowing gaze. "i don't like what you're implying."
"and you didn't drink coffee. you need your coffee, you're like a.." she sniffles, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain her own composure, "fish when you drink those latte's."
"why are you crying?" you push her shoulders, feeling your own nose itch from the buildup of emotions threatening to just spill and topple the both of you. "this is your own freaking fault that we're having this conversation. be woman enough to finish it."
"you're pregnant." she said it with certainty, eyes welling up with tears, she didn't know wether from happiness or sadness. maybe both. it was supposed to be a joyful moment, one which had been your dream for such a long time. but instead your eyes were both red from the complexities of your current emotions, the information tainted with the knowledge of your current realities. "how far long?" she asks.
"still not sure." you rectify with a broken voice, wiping your tears away. "i took some pt, but i've been delaying the blood tests."
"makes sense," blanca reaches out to grasp your shaky hands, "what do you plan to do?"
"i don't know." you reply honestly. "i can only ever think about matteo, and.. and..." you shake your head resolutely, "i don't want anything to change with him."
"things are going to change, but it doesn't always mean a bad one." she tells you, "i know you're at odds with carlos, but— will you tell him?"
you shake your head, "he doesn't need to know." yet even you found it hard to believe.
"he's the father, y/n." blanca reminds you softly, "i know he's done something horrible, and there's no reason to his actions.... but it will crush him."
"he has a very fickle sense of loyalty, and i'm tired of waiting for him to change." you reply. "i don't need his wavering devotion in my baby's life. please understand me, blanca." you tell her pleadingly.
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f1chai the carlos-yn-daniel drama bubbles over with more controversy as yn is embroiled in a shocking pregnancy scandal. spanish news outlets broke the news over the weekend, claiming the spaniard's long time, now ex girlfriend, has secretly been seeing one of the best child-rearing physician in madrid— neither carlos, nor daniel have been accompanying her, but one of the sainz' sister was discreetly pictured on one of her visits. this led many to speculate that yn is indeed with child, and have been for some time. the question of wether it is sainz's or ricciardo's have yet to be answered. the parties involved had declined to comment on this matter.
username what the fuck
username IS CARLOS A SHARP HITTER OR SOMETHING ?!?
username am not believing this until further notice
username LIES !! character defaming ones !! SUE EVERYONE !!
username LAWSUIT LAWSUIT LAWSUIT
username seriously why the fuck are people following her anyways...
username right !! she's a normal citizen and these people are all up in her business 🙄
username seriously. let the girl breathe fs
username wrong on so many levels
username this is better than any telenovalas 😭😭
username who's the daddy ? 🤨
username MAMMA MIA ??
username are we even doubting carlos... that man has a whole ass son
username just why? yn already had it good 😭😭😭
username she was running then tripped
username on sainz's lap...
username have to give it to him. well done !!
username get the bag i guess !!
username yeah 😭😭 atleast her baby daddy isn't some brokie 😭😭
username he's a cheater though
username **serial cheater
username 😭😭😭😭
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whumpinggrounds · 1 year
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Overused Disability Tropes
Woohoo here we go. I expect this one to be a bit more controversial because I am using specific media as examples. I would really prefer if, when critiquing this post, you avoid defending specific media, and focus instead on what’s actually being said/represented about disabled communities. If you feel I’ve done a really grave injustice, you can come into my askbox/DMs/replies to talk to me about it, but I might not answer.
One more time: I am not interested in getting into a debate about whether something is a good show/movie/book/whatever. I’m not telling you it’s bad, or that you shouldn’t enjoy it! People can like whatever they want; I am only here to critique messaging. Do not yell at me about this.
Newest caveat aside, let’s get into it!
Inspiration Porn
Without a doubt, our biggest category! Term coined in 2012 by badass activist Stella Young, but the trope has been around for literal centuries. There are a few different kinds that I will talk about.
Disabled character/person is automatically noble/good because of their disability. A very early example would be A Christmas Carol’s Tiny Tim, or, arguably, Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Real life examples include the Jerry Lewis MDA telethon, or children’s hospital ads that exploit sad-eyed kids with visible illness or disability.
Having a disability does not automatically make you a kind/angelic/noble person. This many not seem harmful, and may even seem positive, but in reality, it is condescending, inaccurate, and sets bizarre standards for how disabled people should behave.
This portrayal is often intended to elicit pity from abled audiences, which is also problematic.
In these portrayals, disability is not something to be proud of or identify with, only something to be suffered through.
Disabled character person does something relatively mundane and we all need to celebrate that. This is less common in writing, but happens in the real world when people do things like post pictures of disabled people at the gym captioned “What’s your excuse?”
This is condescending, and implies that anything disabled people are capable of, abled people are automatically capable of.
Makes it seem like it’s an incredible feat for a disabled person to accomplish tasks.
Uses people’s actual lives and actual disabilities as a reminder of “how good abled life is.”
The “Supercrip” stereotype is a specific kind of inspiration porn in which disabled people are shown to be capable of amazing things, “in spite of” their disability.
The Paralympics have been criticized for this, with people saying that advertisements and understandings of the Paralympics frame the athletes as inspiring not because they are talented or accomplished, but because their talents and accomplishments are seen as “so unlikely.”
Other examples include the way we discuss famous figures like Stephen Hawking, Alan Turing, or even Beethoven. Movies like The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game frame the subjects’ diagnoses, whether actual or posited, as limitations that they had to miraculously break through in order to accomplish what they did. Discussions of Beethoven’s deafness focus on how incredible it was that he was able to overcome it and be a musician despite what is framed as a tragic acquisition of deafness.
The pity/heroism trap is a concise way of defining inspiration porn. If the media you’re creating or consuming inspires these emotions, and only these emotions, around disability, that is a representation that is centered on the feelings and perceptions of abled people. It’s reductive, it’s ableist, and it’s massively overdone.
Disabled Villains
To be clear, disabled people can and should be villains in fiction. The problem comes when disabled people are either objects of pity/saintly heroes, or villains, and there is no complexity to those representations. When there is so little disabled rep out there (less than 3.5% of characters in current media), having a disabled villain contributes to the othering of disability, as well as the idea that disability can make someone evil. There are also a few circumstances in which particular disabilities are used to represent evil, and I’ll talk about how that’s problematic. 
Mentally ill villains are colossally overdone, particularly given that mentally ill people are more likely to be the victims of violence than perpetrators of it.  This is true of all mental illness, including “””scary””” things like personality disorders or disorders on the schizoaffective spectrum. Mental illness is stigmatized enough without media framing mentally ill people as inherently bad or more suspectible to evil. This prejudice is known as sanism.
Explicit fictional examples of this include the Joker, or Kevin Wendell Crumb in Split.
People can also be coded as mentally ill without it being explicitly stated, and that’s also problematic and sanist. In the Marvel movie Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness, Wanda’s appearance and behavior are coded as mentally ill. This is used to make her “creepy.” Horror movies do this a lot - mental illness does not render someone creepy, and should not be used as a tool in this way.
Visible disability or difference to indicate evil is another common, incredibly offensive, and way overdone trope. This is mostly commonly done through facial difference, and the examples are endless. These portrayals equate disability or disfigurement with ugliness, and that ugliness with evil. It renders the disabled villain in question an outcast, undesirable, and uses their disability or difference to dehumanize these characters and separate them from others. This is incredibly prevalent and incredibly painful for people with visible disability or facial difference.
An example of visible disability indicating evil is Darth Vader’s prosthetics and vastly changed physical appearance that happen exactly in time with his switch to the dark side. In contrast, when Luke needs a prosthetic, it is lifelike and does not visually separate him from the rest of humanity/the light.
Dr. Who’s John Lumic is another example of the “Evil Cripple” trope.
Examples of facial difference indicating evil range from just about every James Bond movie, to Scar in the Lion King, Dr. Isabel Maru in Wonder Woman, Taskmaster in Black Widow, Captain Hook in Peter Pan, and even Doofenschmirtz-2 in Phineas and Ferb the Movie. Just because some of the portrayals are silly (looking at you, Phineas and Ferb) doesn’t make the coding of facially scarred villains any less hurtful.  
A slightly different, but related phenomenon I’ll include here is the idea of the disability con. This is when a character fakes a disability for personal gain. This represents disabled people as potential fakers, and advances the idea that disabled people get special privileges that abled people can and should co-opt for their own reasons. 
In The Usual Suspects, criminal mastermind Verbal Clint fakes disability to avoid suspicion and take advantage of others. In Arrested Development, a lawyer fakes blindness in order to gain the sympathy and pity of the jury.
In much more complex examples such as Sharp Objects, a mother with Munchausen by proxy fakes her daughter’s illness in order to receive attention and pity. Portrayals like this make Munchausen or MBP seem more common than it is, and introduce the idea that parents may be lying or coaching their children to lie about necessary medical treatment.
Disability as Morality
Sometimes, the disabled character themselves is a moral lesson, like Auggie in Wonder. Sheerly through existing, Auggie “teaches” his classmates about kindness, the evils of bullying, and not judging a book by its cover. This also fits well under inspiration porn. This is problematic, because the disabled character is defined in terms of how they advance the other characters’ morality and depth.
In the “Disabled for a Day” trope, an otherwise abled character experiences a temporary disability, learns a moral lesson, and is restored to full ability by the end of the episode/book/movie. Once again, disability is used as a plot device, rather than a complex experience, along with more permanent disability being rejected as impossible for heroes or main characters.
Examples include an episode of M*A*S*H where Hawkeye is temporarily blinded, an episode of Law and Order: SVU where Elliott Stabler is temporarily blinded, and an episode of Criminal Minds where Agent Hotchner experiences temporary hearing loss.
Real life examples include sensitivity trainings where participants are asked to wear a blindfold, headphones, or use a wheelchair for a given amount of time. This does not impart the lived experience of disability. It should not be used as a teaching tool. 
Disabled people as inherently pure. This is related to inspiration porn and disabled people as noble, but is different in that it is usually appears in combination with developmental, cognitive, or intellectual disabilities. These characters are framed as sweet, “simple,” and a reminder to other characters to be cheerful, happy, or grateful.
Examples include Forrest Gump, Rain Man, I Am Sam, and What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.
No matter what the stereotypes of a given diagnosis are (yes, I’m thinking of the automatic cheerfulness associated with Down Syndrome), disabled people have personalities. They are capable of being sad, angry, sarcastic, irritable, annoying - any number of things beyond good/sweet/pure. It is reductive to act otherwise.
Disability as Surreal
Less common than some of the others, but still worth thinking about!
Disabled characters are framed as mystical, magical, or other than human, a condition that is either created by or indicated through their disability status. This is especially common with little people.
“Disability superpower” is when a character compensates for, or is uniquely able to have a superpower because of, their disability. Common tropes include the Blind Seer, Blind Weapon Master, Genius Cripple and Super Wheel Chair.
Examples include Pam from Supernatural, Charles Xavier from X-Men, or the grandpa in Spy Kids.
Disability as Undesirable
Last and least favorite category here. Let’s go.
Disabled people as asexual or not sexually desirable. Disabled people can be asexual, obviously. When every portrayal is asexual, that’s a big problem. It frames disabled people as sexually undesirable or implies that it is impossible for people with disabilities to have rewarding, mutually satisfying sexual relationships.
Examples include The Fault in Our Stars or Artie in Glee.
Abandoned due to disability. Hate this trope. Often equates disability with weakness. Don’t want to talk about it. It’s all right there in the title. Don’t do it.
Examples: Quasimodo in Hunchback of Notre Dame, several kittens in the Warrior Cat series, several episodes of Law and Order: SVU, Bojack Horseman, and Vikings.
Discussed in 300 and Wolf of Wall Street.
Ancient cultures and animal nature are often cited as reasoning for this trope/practice. This is not founded in fact. Many ancient civilizations, including Sparta, cared for disabled people. Many animals care for disabled young. These examples should not be used to justify modern human society.
Disabled characters are ostracized for disability. Whether they act “““normal”““ or odd, characters with visible or merely detectable disabilities are treated differently.
Examples include pretty much every piece of media I’ve said so far. This is particularly prevalent for people with visible physical disabilities or neurodivergence. Also particularly prevalent for characters with albinism.
This is not necessarily an inaccurate portrayal - disabled people face a lot of discrimination and ableism. It is, however, very, very common.
Bury your disabled. What it says on the label.
Examples: Animorphs, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, American Horror Story, Criminal Minds, Dr. Who, Star Trek, The Wire.
Mercy killing is a subtrope of the above but disgusting enough that it deserves its own aside. I may make a separate post about this at some point because this post is kind of exhausting and depressing me.
Examples: Me Before You, Killing Eve, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Of Mice and Men, and Million Dollar Baby.
Disability-negating superpowers imply that disability is undesirable by solving it supernaturally instead of actually portraying it, and giving their character powers instead.
Examples include (arguably) Toph from Avatar: the Last Airbender, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Legend of Korra, Dr. Strange, and Daredevil.
Overcoming disability portrays disability as a hindrance and something that can be defeated through technology and/or willpower.
Fictional examples include WALL-E, Kill Bill, The Goonies, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Heidi, The Secret Garden, The Inheritance Cycle, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Strangelove, Sherlock, The Witcher.
Real life examples include videos of wheelchair users standing from their chair to walk down the aisle at a wedding, or d/Deaf children “hearing” for the first time through cochlear implants.
What Does This Mean for Your Writing?
First of all, congratulations for making it this far!
Now, as I have said again and again, I’m not going to tell you what to write. I’ll ask some questions to hopefully help guide your process.
What tropes might you be playing into when writing disabled characters? Why do you find these tropes compelling, or worth writing about? How prevalent are these tropes? How harmful are they? What messages do they send to actual disabled people?
Just because they are common tropes does not mean they are universally awful. Cool fantasy or futuristic workarounds are not necessarily bad rep. Showing the ugly realities of ableism is not necessarily bad rep. It’s just a very, very common representation of disability, and it’s worth thinking about why it’s so common, and why you’re writing it.
As always, conduct your own research, know your own characters and story, and make your own decisions. If you have questions, concerns, or comments, please hit me up! Add your own information! This is not monolithic whatsoever.
Happy writing!
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monzaaasharl · 5 months
Text
Who Do You Think You Are?
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Pairings:: F1 drivers x Female driver! Reader, Christian Horner x Daughter! Reader, Geri Halliwell x Daughter! Reader
Summary:: Y/n Horner is officially announced as a 2024 f1 driver
Author note:: This is set during July 2023 just so the time frame makes sense
Masterlist
Here it was.
This is all she had ever worked for. And now she had it. Becoming a Formula One driver was all she ever dreamed of, and now that it became true she didn't know how to act.
She knew it wouldn't be easy, hell, everyone around her knew that. Especially her parents, Redbull Racing Team Principal Christian Horner and 90s Popstar Geri Halliwell. They knew better than anyone that Y/n becoming an F1 driver would spark controversy, but that's exactly why they didn't hold her back.
Y/n's parents wanted her to have everything she ever wanted. And if helping her with her journey into motorsports was what she wanted, they would do anything in their power to make it easier for her.
Contrary to popular belief her father wasn't as involved with her career as many people thought. I mean of course he gave her advice that the other drivers in F4, F3 and F2 wouldn't get, but they would just have to find it out for themselves. The main part Christian played in her motorsports career was being the person to introduce it to her, and get her her first ever go-kart.
They always tried to keep their father-daughter relationship away from the world of motorsport, because as Christian knew, and y/n would later find out, the media can destroy relationships with information that isn't even true.
Y/n practically grew up at the race track. She was always begging her mother to let her go karting after school and Geri almost always let her with the conditions that she had to do all her homework, and if it wasn't done she couldn't go until it was.
It was almost inevitable that Y/n became a driver, she was meeting new drivers every time she came to a race with her parents. And they could all tell that the way she spoke about karting and her dreams, she was going to go far.
The moment Y/n got off the phone with the Team Principal from Porsche she sprinted down the stairs of her childhood home, as she was staying with her parents at the time, and ran to find her parents.
"Spider in your room or something?" Her father teased, knowing her fear of spiders.
"Much better than that" Trying to hide the smile on her face, however it was growing bigger by the second.
"Go on then, what's happened?" Her mother asked her, confused by her behaviour.
"I'M GONNA BE A FORMULA ONE DRIVER FOR PORSCHE NEXT YEAR" She exclaimed at insane volume.
"Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you" There were tears forming in Geri's eyes as she spoke. "Come here", she widened her arm's for Y/n.
"That's definitely not what I thought you were about to say", Christian joked, and joined in the group hug.
They all took a few moments to comprehend what was going on. As soon as they let go from their hug Christian spoke up.
"I'm sure you'll be good competition"
"I hope so", Y/n joked. "I'm so excited" She squealed, "but I'm also terrified"
Geri laughed at her statement, Y/n always had conflicting emotions. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant, my love" She reassured her daughter, "Who's your teammate going to be?"
"Mick Schumacher" She replied, "I mean, he's been in F1 before, what if he's much better than I am?"
"Nonsense", Christian answered, "They wouldn't have signed you if they didn't think you would good enough." He tried to soothe her worries, it always upset him when she would second guess herself, she was his baby girl, and he wanted whatever was best for her. "You're going to be fantastic, and I know that"
Y/n hugged her father tightly, she knew her parents would always be her biggest fans. "Thank you, Dad"
"So, how long have you been keeping your signing a secret?" He pondered.
"Since September last year...", She quietly admitted.
"That long?"
"Well, it wasn't certain until about 15 minutes ago" She admitted, "They want me to go sign the papers next week"
"My little girl is all grown up", Geri spoke up.
Herself and her father laughed and rolled their eyes.
After a few conversations, and a few more tears, mostly from Geri's eyes, but Y/n could've sworn she saw Christian's eyes become glossy at one point, Y/n went to her bedroom and decided to pack her suitcase, to go back to her own home and then to Germany to officially sign her contract.
It was now 6th July 2023 and Y/n was about to sign her contract.
"Are you ready, Miss?"
"I suppose so"
She didn't even have enough time to take in all her surroundings, the pen was in and out of her hand in seconds.
"You are officially a Formula One driver for Porsche now, congratulations" The team principal of the team said whilst they shared a handshake after her signing.
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This was it.
It was now official.
This is Y/n Horner, and this was her story.
...Introducing Speedy Spice...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist::
@treehouse-mouse @champomiel @honkyscats
Please let me know if you would like to be added or taken off of the taglist by my comments, messages or asks.
Feel free to send requests.
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partycatty · 5 months
Note
Hear me out bi han with a figure skating reader?..
YAS i actually have two other requests for the same thing! u guys r so cute i love ur lil ideas :))
bi-han > foolish
how it goes when you're an elegant skater and he's a stoic ninja!
warnings: u almost die, controversial bi-han character writing?
notes: this reads like a barbie movie it's a little corny, also i imagine his frost/ice shoots out like elsa LMFAO like all beautiful n shit when he's not trying to spear someone w an icicle
masterlist <3
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•when i say bi-han is absolutely horrible at verbalizing his romantic thoughts, i promise with my entire being that i mean it.
•so it comes to nobody's surprise when all bi-han can do is watch you as you glide across the ice like a gorgeous fairy, eyes closed and completely encapsulated in the movement. he was supposed to be scouring the land for raiden and kung lao to confirm their whereabouts, but he stopped when he heard your pretty humming and scraping of ice. all he could do was stand atop a roof and observe you quietly, suddenly feeling a little warm, which was completely out of character for the cryomancer.
•your skates were handmade and your movements weren't professional. you learned through VHS tapes and magazines growing up, and you wanted nothing more than to leave fengjian and make it big in the olympics.
•each time he returns to fengjian to spy on the farmers and report back to liu kang, he's sure to stray from the path when nobody is looking, and checks on the frozen pond to see if you're skating. something about it entrances him. perhaps it's because he uses his ice for dominance and strength, while you submit your entire life to the deadly pond in such a beautiful display of grace.
•it takes him several visits to actually approach you, and it was entirely unintentional. you had actually fallen into a thin patch of ice, your leg trapped in a jagged part and effectively sucking your leg into the freezing water. he leapt from the rooftop and revealed himself to you. while he may not be the best at encouraging words, he's great at barking commands. so, in his all-ice-knowing voice, he tells you how to save yourself step by step, since you seemed entirely clueless about this incredibly important survival skill.
•your nerves got the better of you as you cry out and squirm, and the ice cracked even more. bi-han let out a growl of frustration with the situation before stomping across the ice to you. you wanted to shout out and tell him to stand back or he'd make it worse, but the words get caught in your throat when, with each step, his footsteps spawned large swirling waves of frosty ice, effectively repairing the cracks around you.
•bi-han doesn't outstretch an arm, he just stands menacingly - and silently - over you as you whimper in pain. saving yourself, you use his thick arm as leverage and hoist yourself out of the water, and he barely flinches at your soggy weight.
•"you... you did that," you say incredulously and out of breath, pointing at the intricate patterns along the ice top. bi-han's eyes follow your point and he exhales before turning back to you. "with the ice... how?"
•"you were foolish," he replies coldly, though you sense a morbidly caring tone in his voice. "stay near the shore. you'll lose that leg if you're not careful. no more skating then."
•your hand is on his chest as you regain your balance, and your eyes fall to the emblem on his uniform.
•"how did you know i was skating?" you ask, with a smirk teasing your lips. bi-han tenses up at your question, looking away momentarily. he would literally rather die than admit he was staring at you, and you sense that, so you move back to the emblem.
•"you are in a clan," you mutter, reaching to trace it. "what are ninjas doing in fengjian?"
•instinctively, he snatches up your wrist and holds it in the air, warning you silently not to touch it. but even so, bi-han's lips part for a moment, his eagerness to speak to you overtaking his stoicism. he covers his mouth and furrows his brows. something about your gentleness, your kindness, causes him to desire to match it. your sweet eyes looking into his, you tilt your head and he nearly collapses.
•he decides not to answer your question, and you assume whatever it is is a private matter. perhaps the whispers in madam bo's restaurant might offer an explanation later.
•"well... thank you," you thank him gently, with your arm still in his grip. it's evident that... he doesn't scare you. in fact, you're fascinated by this man. everyone knows everyone, so who could this big yummy scoop of ice cream be??
•"don't thank me yet," he replies, eyes looking down at the ice and back to the shore. "with me. come."
•you do an awkward combination of skating and walking beside bi-han as he leads you back to the snowy shore. his hand rests on your back, full palm taking up a great amount of space on your back. you shudder at the thought.
•"may i thank you now?" you ask with gentle playfulness, smiling up at the ninja before bowing out of respect. "you saved my life, sir. the least you can do is tell me your name."
•"bi-han," he finally replies, his lips in a firm line. "don't make me save you again. be smart. be vigilant."
•his lecture halts when he hears his brothers call for his name in the echoey distance. he shares one last glance with you before walking off into the village alleys, and you're utterly dumbfounded. did that actually happen, or was that a weird hypothermic hallucination? do those even happen?
•before the lin kuei end their exploration of your village, bi-han decides to leave one last lesson for you at your doorstep. how he even knew where you lived baffled you. but, the uneasiness went away when you opened the hastily put together box, and see a brand new pair of ice skates, the blades frosted with the same beautiful pattern you saw on the ice that day.
•never again did you get near the thin points of the icy pond. and, every winter after that, you can't help but feel a pair of eyes on you in the distance as you improve your flips and pivots using your gorgeous skates. and you're pretty sure the lin kuei's business in the village ended quite some time ago...
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yaz-4200 · 1 year
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~Secret Relationship With The Real Slim Shady~
(Eminem x reader!)
- PART 1 - 2001 - you’re in a secret relationship with slim, an innocent runway model and the controversial rapper
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“You’re too paranoid baby” Marshall cooed softly in your ear
“I’m telling you Marshall that man recognised us” you said pulling the hood down further to cover you a little more- you loved wearing his hoodies they were not only comfy but you always felt so safe and hidden in how big they were.
He sighed pulling up to the McDonald’s drive in, getting ready to order a quick meal before he dropped you off to your next shoot.
You repositioned yourself in your seat, turning away from him to cover your identity when he pulled up , he laughed slightly to how seriously you took it- at the end of the day it was your sweet reputation he was protecting not his own
The immediate gasps filled your ears as he pulled up to the window “Oh my God!EMINEM” the fan girls called out
Marshall smiled and laughed “how y’all doing” he said with a chuckle “Can we get your autograph??!!” One of the workers squealed , Marshall nodded signing something for the both of them before they gave him the food “who was that with him” one said quite loudly as he began to drive away
You smiled to yourself , you enjoyed seeing him interact with fans - and hearing them ask about your identity make it clear you concealed yourself well "see wasn't that bad was it" marshall teased with a sly smirk on his face- you pushed his arm playfully "shut up" you replied with a laugh. You both settled down at the back of the car park as he handed you your food "I promise to call you whilst im in Detriot baby i just gotta sort some stuff out with the kim and see hailie" he said refering back to your previous conversation You smiled back at him , "its fine marshall , i have back to back shows here so i'll be busy too-say hi to hailie for me" you replied beginning to eat your fries You had only met hailie a hand full of times, which proof had mentioned was non-existant for past girls slim had been seeing. That made you happy,knowing he loved you enough to bring his daughter around you meant alot. You watched marshalls face grow intrigued by something outside the car, "Motherfucker!" he yelled too loud for your liking you turned your head and just then you heard it the "click" of a camera rang in your ears. "shit" you mumbled.Turning back to slim who slammed the car door open "jesus fucking christ marshall stop!" you hated when he acted on impulsive like this "Back the fuck up punk!" marshall shouted pushing the camera back with his palm , the guy seemed to get the hint jumping back away to get away from marshall In moments he was back in the car, a laugh escaped his lips as if the situation was funny "This isn't funny marshall hes gonna shop those" you replied pointing to where the man was "Then you cant deny me anymore in your little interviews" he retorted moving your head to his shoulder "i dont know what im gonna do" you mumbled to yourself.
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heyidkyay · 1 month
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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |
Part Twenty-Three
Matty Healy x reader
Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.
What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 
Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!
Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx
Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)
> Last update: look back here if you'd like!
Masterlist
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“I said no.”
Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.
“Give me a reason at least?"
I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?
“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.
“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.
I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”
Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.
“One thing after another with you.”
My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”
The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”
I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it. 
“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.
“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”
I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.
Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.
I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”
With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”
I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”
To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep. 
Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.
“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”
“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”
Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”
My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.
The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.
He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.
I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me. 
Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand. 
But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.
Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.
“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.
“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.
“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”
Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.
Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.
When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.
“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”
I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky. 
“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs. 
“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.
Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”
I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-
“Anyone here?”
I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.
George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”
Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.
“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”
“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”
I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”
Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”
I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done. 
Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”
Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.
“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”
It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.
Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.
See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.
Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard. 
George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more. 
Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.
He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.
I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon. 
The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.
I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.
I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated. 
“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”
George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”
Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”
I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.
Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”
I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”
He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.” 
I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”
I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.
He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”
I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.
During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.
George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.
“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about. 
He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it. 
“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.
Or maybe I was just kidding myself.
“Sorry.”
George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”
He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.
“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile. 
“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.
I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.
“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."
I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.
Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.
I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.
“What?”
George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.
“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me. 
Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”
My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”
We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.
“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.
I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”
That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”
George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”
He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.
His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”
I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.
The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.
I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.
You had me from the start  Pulling all the stops out  On the down low, secretly  But I think you knew your psychology  Was working on me  Infatuated  And doing this all wrong  You've got  My number and my name  And you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going  Can I see you every day?  Do you love me  Like I love you?  Ah, you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going
(Song: Ride - Future Love)
It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me. 
I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.
His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.
A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.
Not even a second later my phone was in my hand. 
Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me? 
Matty had always had a thing for Sundays. 
There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick. 
No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him. 
There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.
Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.
It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.
Jamie had somehow managed it.
Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.
But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.
It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings. 
He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.
There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.
He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.
Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.
Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.
The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”
Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.
This was it, he supposed.
The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.
He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.
The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.
If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal. 
He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.
It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.
She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.
Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.
The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.
“You can just hang your-”
“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway. 
It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.
“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”
He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him. 
Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”
God, it was so fucking strained.
He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.
“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.
“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”
Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”
She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before. 
But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.
Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv. 
There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.
She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which. 
He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.
He found himself smiling at the thought.
It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.
“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down. 
Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.
“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.
She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”
Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”
She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”
Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.
The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.
“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.” 
Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.
She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”
“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.
“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”
Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”
Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.
“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...” 
He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks. 
She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?” 
“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.
“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”
That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.
Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind. 
“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”
Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.
Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”
Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.
“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.” 
He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”
He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.
“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”
Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.
“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”
“Said what?”
Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”
Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.
Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”
Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.
“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.
“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”
She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.
“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”
Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.
“Then what?”
Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”
Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.
He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.
It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”
Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.
“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.
“I know.” He answered.
“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.
“I know.”
He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest. 
"Why didn't you tell me?"
“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.
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nvoirs · 4 months
Text
𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣
Summary: An after party for exams is missed because of salient reasons! Definitely nothing more..
Disclaimers: MDNI 18+ only, Fuckboy Leon au, Unprotected sex, Both reader and Leon are in their twenties, cream pie, degrading language, shower sex. Literally this is written bad.. I haven't written in months ok! not proofread because I cannot be bothered. Requests are back open.
⠀ꔫ
An after party was being held as a celebration for everyone completing their exams by a very well known individual in your year, almost everyone was going to it minus the nerds but it had definitely been at least an hour since the party started. Your friends were probably wondering where the heck you were, because it wasn’t like you to show up late to anything.
Leon had decided to let himself into your dorm room, thankfully Claire wasn’t in when he did so otherwise it would have caused a whole lot of controversy. You see Leon and you had been fucking around for the past few months or so, yes quite literally fucking and as you thought about it now you couldn’t help but pinch yourself. Because how did you, a well mannered, straight A goody shoes get with someone like Leon? Claire was very well aware of the fact that you two were sleeping with each other, she’d make jokes telling you guys to not “mess around near her bed or stuff” before leaving for her class.
Leon was notoriously known around campus as a fuckboy. Definitely not something to be proud of, but you didn’t expect anything more than having your back blown by him every time he’d approach you. You wouldn't even call it friends with benefits, because you and him had never just hung out without him leaving you all sweaty and flustered on your bedspread telling you he’d “catch you later” basically telling you the next time you’d get to fuck.
So when he decided to let himself into your dorm room while you were in the shower, you didn’t expect someone to fling open the shower curtain exposing your naked body to whoever was behind it.
“What the fu-! Leon, what the hell are you doing?” You gasped, covering your breasts and trying to squeeze your legs together.
“Relax sweetheart, I’ve seen it all before you don’t have to hide from me.” The shit eating grin made you sigh before removing your arms from your naked body.
“How did you get in here? What if Claire was home! Wha-!” He’d pressed a palm to your mouth muffling your yelling.
“I just wanted to see you, that's all.” He shrugged his shoulders.
You slapped his hand from your mouth sighing, “Leon if you wanted to see me you wouldnt come charging into my bathroom while I’m taking a shower, you wanted to fuck me admit it or your getting nothing.”
“Oh, that’s easy then I wanted to fuck you ok? God those other girls just don’t know how fuck like you do.”
You cringed at his words but laughed, “Ok I forgive you, but don’t say those words ever again, its cheesy as fuck got it?”
“Deal, so can I join you?”
“Lock the damn door first.”
“Oh your right, my bad.”
He quickly shuffled to the half cracked open door to the bathroom, snapping it shut before making sure it was locked.
He's taking his clothes off before you know it, and hopping into the shower your back to him as you reach for the soap bottle.
“Let me help you with that princess, I’ll help scrub your back.”
“Thanks.” You replied dryly, rolling your eyes at his attempt to slow things before they got too heated.
He was humming, rubbing the soap into your back and massaging your shoulders making you release a quiet moan.
“Hm, what was that?” he teased, finger ghosting over your clit.
“Nothing! Just help me wash up. I can't be late, and why aren’t you coming anyways?”
He laughed, “These types of parties aren’t my thing, they're more or less for nerds sorry to shake your pretty little head, princess.”
He really needed to stop calling you that, it made your hole clench around nothing, cunt beginning to dribble slick out.
“Yeah whatever, I’ve got better grades than you at least.” Your voice cracked at your last word, as Leon began to stroke your clit causing you to buck your hips upwards in shock.
“I knew you’d like it.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver in delight.
“God I’m going to cream pie you and make you walk around the nerd party with my cum inside of you.”
You moaned at the thought of it, “Please” you whined grinding your ass on his now erect cock.
“Fuck, I’m going to give it to you so hard just wait.”
He rubbed your pussy this time, smearing your arousal across your clit and entrance. He slipped one finger inside, began to push it in and out and looked at your turned back for a reaction.
You cried out in pleasure and pain as he inserted a second finger beginning to finger yourself open.
“Mhm yeah just like that, stretch me out”
He growled in response before sliding his fingers out of your soaked hole.
“Mhm Leon help a girl out would you?”
Rubbing your ass against his hard cock, you arched your back like a feline whining.
“Help you with what exactly? Speak up.” He growled becoming impatient from the sheer like of not being inside you right now.
“Help fill me up please, need your cock massaging my insides and stretching me out.”
“Well fuck if you insist.” Without any warning he parted your pussy lips and pressed the tip of his cock into your hole making you moan.
“Fuck princess, your literally sucking me in god you can't live without this fat cock breeding your pussy can you? Leaving a fat load inside of you”
You mewled in response, as you pushed your ass backwards, forcing your pussy to swallow him all.
The warm water cascading down your back and dripping down where you and Leon were connected made you feel drunk.
Still cockwarming Leon he gently tugged on your hair, slapping one of your hardened nipples.
“Aren't you going to be late to your little party.” He chuckled.
“Ah don't care about it, anymore.” You winced from the stretch your pussy took sliding such a fat cock into your tiny little pussy.
“Well this is my way of celebrating your end of exams.” He grinned, beginning to move.
He grinded his dick inside of your cunt hitting your g spot repeatedly making your cry out.
Leon reached out to cup your tits in both hands, massaging them both before pinching the nipples.
“Such pretty tits.” He mumbled. “Prettiest I've seen, and I've seen a lot.”
“Leon.” You groaned. “Don't have to brag about being a slut.”
He groaned as your pussy squeezed around him, close to milking him. “I think you like that I’m a slut, squeezing around me so tight like that.”
“I’m going to cum, go faster.”
He quickened his pace, but his hips stuttered as you came on his cock. The orgasm aftershocks leaving you in a frozen state stuck to the shower wall. Your face became flustered as Leon thrusted his cock in and out of your wet hole, the squelching sounds echoing off the walls.
“That’s right, cream my cock baby.” 
His hips faltered before stilling completely, his thick, warm cum filling you up nicely. You felt woozy but full, Leon’s cum dripping out of you.
“Nice cream pie you’ve got there.” He slapped your ass lightly.
“Leon!”
“You missed the nerd gathering.”
“This was better.”
“Oh?”
“Now turn the damn water off before we use all the water on the whole of campus.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
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syeren · 5 months
Text
BATTLE OF WITS.
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summary — sampo loves to rile people up, no matter who it is and what rank you are. but, once you step into his life, could he still keep up his uncaring demeanor?
genre — comedic fluff
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Sampo is an easy guy, albeit, a con-artist but a real hunk of work. If something doesn’t catch his eye within a second or stimulate his brain for more than a minute… You can say bye-bye to trying to talk to him.
Majority of people view the picture on the vacation postcard of “not-giving-a-shit” and fall in love with the idea — swimming through the clear blue waters in this mental Mediterranean sea can be more deceiving than many think. It’s a one-way ticket to losing the most important skill in life, to feel concern. He for one, couldn’t care in the slightest. It all goes to show as to why he took up the very interesting and controversial means of work in the first place.
But once he stumbled across a person completely opposite to him, he couldn’t help but feel even more irritated. Of course, it was you, with your logical and reasonable thoughts and actions. Your morals were way higher on the scale than his, and he definitely could assume your IQ and EQ followed suit. He never felt so ridiculed and threatened by your demeanour because of this aura of “coolness” and “rationality.” That was the issue, he was always the smart one— or the lack thereof. If both your brains jostled within the ring, his would be pummelled to smithereens.
He wanted to brush off this problem as per usual, forcing himself to play the “unbothered” role because his ego couldn’t handle it anymore (ahh yes, the “be the bigger person” card.) But if this were a choice between mind over matter, the latter would reign dominant. He needs to showcase his true skills, it was his only “skill” anyway.
“Hey,” Sampo called out to you while you fumbled through your satchel. You gave him a quick eyebrow raise in response.
“What’s seven times eight?” he blurted out, standing directly in front with his arms crossed over his puffed chest. Yeesh.
You, on the other hand, gave him an indescribable expression that probably amounted to confusion, irritation, and most likely concern. “What?”
“C’moonn… I don’t have all day!”
Rolling your eyes, you continued to fish out some papers from your bookbag and grumbled the answer. “Fifty-six.”
“— Riddle me this. Imagine you’re in a tough situation where your pal is crying over their partner who was absolutely shit to them. Do you, A, comfort them, B, make fun of them, or C… Listen and give advice.”
Now it was completely indescribable about what you’re feeling or thinking. You slowly looked up to meet his eyes with a blank stare. You were judging him hard.
“… A with a mix of C.”
“No, only one answer!” he protested, wagging his finger in the air.
“Then A.”
He dropped his hand and returned to the same arm-crossed position. “This isn’t fun.”
“You think you’re not having fun? This feels like an interrogation, Sampo,” you playfully snapped, closing your book bag. “The fuck was that about?”
A mere shrug was all he responded with. “Just wanted to… Figure some things out,” he vaguely responded, to which, prompted your irritation even more.
“Sampo—“
“Okay, okay! Just heard from a little bird that you’ve got a head on your shoulders,” he replied in defence. “Wanted to see if it was true or not.”
“Of course I have a head on my shoulders,” you reiterated, shaking your head in disbelief. “What? You mean like, smarter?”
Sampo nodded his head. “Precisely.”
His answer made you immediately chuckle, letting out a breathy laugh. “Shouldn’t this little questionnaire prove the point? Such dumb questions.”
“Hey! They made you think though!” he argued. “Putting you on the spot and such.”
“… Easy questions like that won’t put anyone on the spot.”
Sampo inched even closer as he let out a prideful scoff, flipping his floppy bangs back with calloused fingers. “Fine. I’ll prepare something harder then—“
“Nope,” you interrupted.
“One thing’s for certain, you are one hell of a party pooper,” he stated dejectedly, rolling his eyes as he straightened his posture. “Natasha mentioned you were smart n’ all, but how is that any good if that pretty little head of yours is full of brash comments and half-assed sarcasm.”
“Since when were you and Natasha friends?” you deadpanned, the same sarcastic tone dripping from your lips.
“We always were! Hey! Don’t give me that face!” Sampo responded but as soon as he was speaking, your figure was slowly walking away from him. You lazily waved a hand in the air without turning around.
You, 1. Sampo, 0. Try harder next time, big guy.
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yridenergyridenergy · 12 days
Text
On the eve of the seven-year mark for this account, let's address the biggest hate point about me: how I insist that people either ask before, come and say thanks, simply link to or credit this page when they share/repost the content.
Even if I manage to convince a handful of peopIe, I will continually have to argue and work with people on this because it's not inherent. For example, I come from an online community where, decades ago, we were shocked when we learned that Japanese artists were mad that some people had simply copied and pasted their fanart. It's obvious when you stop to put yourself in their shoes, but for a lot of people, it takes some personal effort to accept the realization that: "Oh okay, I see where you're coming from." In no way am I comparing fanart with most of my content, as artists deserve a ton more praise, but the concept of being grateful for where you got stuff and not simply saving and reposting stuff is the same. And guess what? People outside of that aforementioned community, and even probably newcomers to that community, are still sharing uncredited fanart. It's not inherent, I get it.
For almost seven years, I have posted twice daily, at least, and this requires quite a lot of budget, time, innovation and effort. And absolutely, the content comes from the band themselves, I'm not the photographer(s), the live show recorders, the interviewers, etc. However, you also wouldn't have that GIF, JPG, etc. if it wasn't for me. I do it to share the love, the passion. If I don't mention the source in my post, then it's either directly cited on the picture or the band has not mentioned the source either, like for memocas.
Also, each perpetrator thinks of themselves individually, but imagine my perspective too: it's not just one, but dozens of people who keep reposting my content to their own crowd of followers without any context. When you don't mention a source and just display new content out of nowhere, you are indeed claiming it as if you were the benefactor.
So, am I fighting for the "clout" or whatever? Well, maybe in the same capacity as those people are clearly attracted to. Whether we are or not, it's just about the principle behind the whole situation that reposting is not the proper way to show that you are grateful about something. Unless it came from a robot or some big corporation without feelings or humanity. If you don't wish to interact and ask permission or say thanks at all, let alone like or reblog on Tumblr, then the least you can do is to mention where you found stuff. To whom you owe the pleasure of having seen that content and being able to share it.
And it's so stupid because on Twitter, for example, you benefit from 280 characters now, plus a link gives a preview of the images that are on the landing site. There is zero excuse for not mentioning your source right there in the post where you repost an image (or screenshots of a translated interview, mindblowingly enough), in addition to whatever small comment you want to make regarding the content, instead of in a subsequent reply that nobody will bother to check.
A lot of people will still disagree on this and hate me, and that's fine. If you don't like me, then don't engage with what I share, because that's just hypocritical. This really shouldn't be that controversial, it's just that your feathers are temporarily ruffled. People added watermarks on their GIFs and scans etc. way before I did.
And the descent from "Please credit if you repost" to "Do not repost" came because people didn't do even that anyway. But if someone comes to ask me if they can nevertheless, I'm super likely to say 'yes'.
At the end of the day, I want to keep this blog positive, I want to foster a good environment to lift people's mood day by day. We have enough bullshit in our lives. I've heard of the Dir en grey community being toxic at probably more than one stage of its existence, but hopefully we can keep avoiding that.
As for me, I am eternally grateful to those who keep up with my apparently insufferable self.
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qqueenofhades · 7 months
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Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but its one that I've been reminded of in the few weeks since things have escalated so severely in Israel and Palestine-- I feel like the pressure for random, average individuals online to be vocally political is not only entitled and uncomfortable, but also just an example of misplaced priority.
Like, I have people on twitter right now that are flat out saying if you don't talk extensively about I/P you're truly, irredeemably evil. I've had mutuals say that silence means you're complacent in genocide, that you have blood on your hands (exact words). But it just doesn't make sense? Most of the people who I've seen being flat out harassed for being silent are teenagers who don't have money to donate, working class folks who don't have time to spare, and normal people who just don't have enough of a following online to even spread any word effectively. Of course, the ones doing the harassing are also poor/busy/not-popular, but they don't see the irony. (I've also seen them say that talking about war constantly is taking a toll on their mental health, saying they've cried, had nightmares, panic attacks, etc...but they also say that taking a mental health break from social media is "selfish" and genocidal, so.)
The whole interaction leaves me with so many questions. If stepping away from social media because politics are stressing you out (which they are known to do), are you obligated to use social media? Do you have to use twitter to be a good person? What does that say about people who can't afford a phone, or live in a country where it isn't quite possible? (Are homeless folks inherently genocidal, or is that an "obvious" exception that was never clarified because no one uses nuance anymore?) If you have to talk about world events, lest you side with the oppressor, at what point is something so catastrophic you *must* talk about it? Is there a number of lives lost that is low enough you can get away with being quiet, and a certain amount too high that you're obligated to talk about it? Is it your duty to have the news on 24/7 to make sure you don't miss anything and catch all the global disasters as they happen? How much do you have to talk about something for it to be considered "enough"? Is there a quota??
It just feels like a lot of people are acting as if people who aren't chronically online aren't 1. doing any activism, because the only important activism is social media networking (sarcasm), or 2. are inherently bad people for *not* spending 6 hours a day on their phones. Like, I had someone I thought was a friend say I was a bad person because I was trying to cut down my social media usage, because the timing was "too convenient"... as if that's a normal thing to say to someone, ever. Sorry if I went on a little bit of a rant, it wasn't my intention. I dunno, maybe it's just me; I've seen a lot of people saying this sort of stuff so maybe they are the majority. It just feels really weird to let people that are addicted to social media take charge of who online is "good" or "bad" based off their internet usage. As if we were all catholics or something. If I were to say that current takes on morality were very catholic-seeming, would you know what I mean?
As recently noted, I am myself on an embargo from answering asks related to this topic. I will make one exception because this is important. Please note that any wank in replies or reblogs will be instantly blocked (and I won't hesitate to disable reblogs if necessary). I will not be answering follow-up asks or getting drawn into Discourse. I do not want to do it and it will not be happening.
I have said it before, but it bears saying again: thinking that the only way to Do Activism is to be constantly on social media and immersing yourself in terrible things nonstop and then posting the Most Correct Opinions (and then viciously attacking anyone who is even slightly Not As Correct as you) is absolutely bullshit. If you're engaging with this content so much that it's giving you a mental breakdown or otherwise plunging you into a spiral of anxiety that you take out on other people who are just as far removed from actually doing anything about it as you: why? Do you really think that you and you alone, one random person on the Internet, are the only way anyone else is going to find out about these things? Or do you think you have to perform the Most Correct Opinions nonstop, viciously harass anyone who isn't responding in exactly the same way, and this is the sum total of what your response should be? Especially in a situation as bloody and complicated as this, dealing with reams of religious, social, cultural, and political history where the average commentator on this conflict knows only what's been fed to them by propaganda on TikTok? How the fuck is that useful or constructive for anyone, aside from perpetuating the idea that you have to be angry all the time on social media about things you essentially know nothing about? I can't see that it does.
What's happening to the Gazans right now is no qualification or equivocation, a genocide. It should rightfully be opposed and called what it is. But unfortunately, I have spent too much time around Western Online Leftists to believe they actually care a whit about stopping genocide as a fundamental principle, and only want to be seen to loudly care about what their Ideology has told them to care about. If it means hand-waving aside genocide and atrocities when committed by their preferred polities, so be it. Why haven't these same people been wall-to-wall up in arms about what Russia has been doing in Ukraine, or for God's sake Syria for the past ten years, if they're really concerned about the rights of innocent Muslim civilians attacked by a far-right imperialist power? Why not the Uighurs in China? Why not [insert the blank] of all the terrible things happening in the world as a result of far-right fascist genocidal imperialism? Why only this conflict? Why now? Why does it involve so much excusing of terrorism as long as it's committed for the Right Ideology? Why are some of the most loudly pro-Palestinian accounts on here also the most rabidly pro-Russian? How does that make sense? To put it bluntly, those genocides are being committed by nation-states that Online Leftists like for being "anti-Western," and therefore their activities are actually fine and should even need to be defended.
My point is not to say that what's happening to the Palestinians is not bad. It is. It is awful and inexcusable. However, I seriously doubt the motives and morality of those who are being the loudest about screaming on social media and attacking everyone else for not instantly repeating their views. I seriously doubt that the Online Left actually opposes genocide and accelerationism as fundamental principles, because they proudly demonstrate every day that they don't. Until those vast factors can be dismantled and shown for what they are, and this can be placed into its larger context, I don't buy it and I don't believe this wall-to-wall social media outrage factory is actually aimed at helping the Gazans or anyone else suffering the most as a result of this. It is just to show that they can be counted on to Perform Outrage and harass anyone else who doesn't do the same, and that does nothing for anyone whatsoever.
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