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findafight · 1 year

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Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #cc bnf steve #stranger things #this is cleaned up from a version i word vomited in a discord group lol #also Sassafras and Moonshine are steve and Robin's rescue cats they got when they went to adopt one but then found out they were bonded #and stobin had already agreed that theyd eventually get two cats and call them sassafras and moonshine after Stone Soul Picnic #so when faced with platonic soulmate Cat Edition with the names they already wanted. it was a sign.#finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #genderqueer steve harrington

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sweetcherryharry · 3 months

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Begin Again — 04

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

There he stood, right in front of her, a smile playing on his lips as their gazes met. Y/N felt a rush of emotions, a mix of surprise, nostalgia, and an underlying current of something more profound. The unspoken words of their past seemed to linger in the air between them.

Harry, with his soft brown curls and a simple white shirt paired with jeans and worn-out vans, looked like a page from a memory that she had been trying to forget. Yet, as he stood there, the year they hadn’t seen each other melted away, and they found themselves suspended in a moment that defied time; it seemed like the past months never happened.

The Love Band's living room, with its soft lighting and the faint melody of Fleetwood Mac in the background, turned into a cozy space where only the current moment held importance, at least for Y/N and Harry.

"Hi, sunflower," he replied, the words carrying a weight that transcended the casual greeting. The endearment was a throwback to the days when Harry used to affectionately call her by that sweet nickname, a reminder of their time together.

To Y/N, hearing it from him sounded bittersweet, like the echoes of a melody that brought both the joy of nostalgia and the ache of what they were once.

As Harry spoke, his heart seemed to beat in his chest like the rhythm of a familiar song. In awe of her presence, he couldn't help but marvel at the woman she was. The way her eyes sparkled, the slight curve of her lips as she smiled – it was a sight he had missed more than he realized.

In that suspended moment, their gazes held a conversation that words struggled to capture. Without a word, Y/N found herself stepping forward, drawn by an instinct that transcended logic. Harry, as if guided by the same unspoken force, opened his arms, a silent invitation.

As they embraced, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of each other's presence. The hug felt like coming home after a long journey, a familiar haven that resonated with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the soft melody of their intertwined past.

For a moment, the cozy living room encapsulated the essence of what they used to be – a refuge where their souls met without pretense. The faint scent of Harry's cologne, the gentle rise and fall of their shared breaths, all contributed to the sanctuary of the embrace.

However, as they lingered in the hug, reality began to reassert itself. The made-up living room, once an intimate haven, became a stage where the complexity of their emotions played out. They reluctantly pulled away, a mutual understanding passing between them. The connection was undeniable, but so was the need for boundaries.

"I loved the show, Harry, you did amazing," Y/N said, a soft smile on her lips as she attempted to bridge the transition from the warmth of the hug to the safer ground of friendship. "I love the new album, too."

Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners, appreciating her genuine compliment. "Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot coming from you."

In his mind, he couldn't help but think that she was the muse behind the songs, wondering if she realized the entire album was dedicated to her. The melodies and lyrics, born from their shared experiences, whispered a silent acknowledgment of the impact she had on his creative journey.

"I can see how much you've all grown as a band," Y/N continued, her gaze drifting to the people surrounding them, all engaging in conversation between them, trying to give the couple a little privacy. "The Love Band has really evolved, and it's inspiring."

Harry nodded, a humble gratitude in his response. "We've put a lot of heart into it. It's been quite a journey."

"Speaking of journeys, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, pointing towards the two girls that stood a few meters away. "Let me present you to them; they're fans, just like me." She joked, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the playful introduction.

Both Harry and Y/N walked towards them, and as they neared, Natalie and Maia exchanged excited glances, their smiles widening at the sight of the acclaimed musician in their midst.

"Harry, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, gesturing towards the two girls who stood now close to the pair. "Natalie and Maia, this is Harry."

Harry offered a warm smile, extending his hand to each of them. "Nice to meet you both."

Natalie and Maia, both trying to contain their excitement —understanding that he was also their friend’s ex-boyfriend— shook his hand enthusiastically, exchanging introductions with genuine joy. "Nice to meet you Harry, we enjoyed the show so much," Natalie admitted.

Y/N, sensing the formal atmosphere, playfully rolled her eyes. "Okay, you two, you can fangirl. It's okay."

This broke the ice, and they all burst into laughter. The living room, with its soft lighting and the distant hum of Fleetwood Mac's tunes, witnessed the easy camaraderie of new friends. As they settled into conversation, the transition from fan admiration to genuine connection felt effortless, the shared laughter echoing in harmony with the melodies that surrounded them.

Y/N, sensing Natalie and Maia's eagerness to get to know one of the artists they both admired, decided to give them some space. With a smile, she excused herself, mentioning she needed a moment and headed towards the conjoined bathroom.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts in the brief solitude. The room's distant chatter and laughter, though comforting, served as a stark reminder of the evening's unexpected reunion with Harry.

As her eyes met her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a mix of emotions played across her face. There was joy, undoubtedly, at the sight of Harry again after a year of separation. His presence evoked a rush of memories, laughter, and shared moments that had shaped a significant chapter of her life. Yet, intertwined with that joy was an ache, a reminder of the emotions she thought time had dulled.

The realization hit her; she had missed him more than she allowed herself to acknowledge. Seeing him, hearing his voice, brought back the echoes of the past, the shared dreams and the bitter taste of the breakup that lingered beneath the surface. It was as if time had folded, and for a moment, the wound felt fresh again.

She held back tears, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The bathroom, with its muted ambiance, became a sanctuary where she grappled with the bittersweet truth of their renewed connection. The mix of emotions was a testament to the complexity of their history, a narrative that had left an indelible mark on her heart.

Lost in her whirlwind of memories and emotions, Y/N hadn't realized how much time had passed. The knock on the bathroom door jolted her back to the present, and she hastily wiped away a stray tear. "Coming!" she called out, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

A familiar voice responded, breaking through the door's barrier. "It's me, sunflower. Can I come in?"

Y/N took a big breath, her heart fluttering at the endearing nickname that held echoes of a shared past. With a decisive nod, she unlocked the door, letting him in.

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a smiling Y/N, standing amidst the faint glow of the room. Yet, as normal as she tried to portray herself, he knew her more than she knew herself.

Harry stepped in, closing the door behind him, his green eyes holding a mixture of concern and understanding. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, just needed a moment.” The bathroom felt like their own little bubble and privacy; vulnerable. And for a moment, this was her Harry —well, was— and decided to just be honest. “It's just… a lot to take in, you know?"

Harry mirrored her sad smile, acknowledging the weight of their reunion. "I understand. It's a lot for me too." He gently touched her arm in a comforting gesture, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. "I never expected to see you in the crowd again… after everything.”

For him, the sight of her in the audience triggered a strong sense of déjà vu, as if time had folded back on itself, recalling the moments when she used to be a familiar face in the crowd every night during their time together.

Feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of shared history, Y/N found herself enveloped in a spontaneous hug. Harry's arms wrapped around her, a familiar embrace that brought a rush of mixed emotions. At that moment, words seemed inadequate, so they let the hug speak for itself.

"I missed you, bug," Harry whispered, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I'm glad you're here."

Y/N, her eyes damp with unshed tears, managed a small, heartfelt smile. "Me too." The simplicity of those words carried the depth of the emotions they both felt. In the shared hug, amidst the echoes of their past and the uncertainties of the present, they found a moment of solace—a bridge between what was and what could be.

hellooo i'm back!! :) if you want to be added to the taglist, please reply to this post! thank you so much for the support, hope u enjoy <3

taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @slutforcoffein @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate @that-one-little-soybean @voniikg @lovergirl42442 @daydreamingwithaseaview @harrysdaydream22 @lonelyxhabit @obsessed-with-every-book-ever @silenthappyplace @ameerakane20 @hesdebility

#harry imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harrystyles #harry styles series #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #famous!harry #second chance romance

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catboybiologist · 4 months

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Hi! I'm Sierra. Time for a pinned post refresh.

Otherwise known as CatboyBiologist, or @hi-sierra (my SFW blog [this one is SFW too, but less so]). This page is remaining active, but if you want to find me somewhere else, I use the same username on reddit, Instagram, co-host, and tech.lgbt. This is me:

Trans woman, PhD student in molecular biology, boymoder, shitposter, freediver, hot girl on your phone, hiker, rambler (this post included), tgirl tummy tuesday supplier and enjoyer, former femboy, bane of bioessentialist fuckwads who try to use biology to validate biogotry, flaming bisexual, 196 nanocelebrity… whatever was the first thing that brought you to my blog, I hope it’s enough to get you to stay! I post selfies, hornyposts (minors and people who are averse to that be warned), stuff about the ocean, posts about my growing sense of wanderlust, my adorable lil tortoise, tutorials for transfemmes and GNC people, rambles about science, documentation of my own transition, rambles about transness, rambles about the eroticism of programming a machine to feel arousal, rambles about nature, and random shitposts. Please send me pictures of cute animals in your life!

If you wanna support my science career and my transition, consider dropping a tip here! PhD salaries are notorious for being negotiated to be exactly the cost of living…. And then forgotten about for years as inflation drops that below minimum wage. So I’m always a little strapped for cash. Anything helps!

Links to some of my tutorials and relevant resources under the cut:

I'm tracking my transition, and some people have said they found this helpful! This spreadsheet is generally updated monthly:

Usually, I write a little journal to go with it when it updates- you can find that under the #trans journal on my blog.

If you're interested in checking out some of the things I'm trying to write, here's a post with links to individual stories I'm making:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/741010247774306304/writing-consolidation-post?source=share

My femboy guide, written well before I started HRT, but still has relevant info:

A "boyboob" tutorial, aka how to make it look like you have cleavage in an outfit that looks better with it:

A quick and dirty guide to taking better selfies, with a specific emphasis on people who may have stopped hating their body recently due to transition:

And here's a few of my personal favorite little rambles and posts about my transness, in no particular order:

CW for transphobia on this one:

A massive shoutout to @foldingfittedsheets for this amazing art of the lil borgir holding a trans flag:

I adore this so much <3 if you want to support their art, her commissions are open and really sweet!!!!

And of course, a massive shoutout to @whalesharkcat for this lovely pixel art of my tortoise:

I still love this so much, and will continue to into the future <3

For preHRT selfies, search the femboy tag. For post HRT selfies, use the "trans selfie" tag. I've been on HRT since August of 2023, so I'm still very early in the process! Day to day, I present male, but I plan to change that around the 1 year mark.

I guess that's about it! One final note is that I've been alluding to video/podcast style things for a while now. With my aderrall prescription, I've actually put in a lot of research work that might lead to 1-4 of those, so that might actually happen in the near future! No promises of course, life always catches up to you.

And if you liked my previous pinned post better, here it is:

Anyways, if you read this far, thanks for sticking around and bbyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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dreadful-windandrain · 1 month

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listened to the real will wood album three times yesterday. here are my thoughts:

am i being detaIIIIIIIIINED? am i under arrest?? (yes!)

"this is a song written by a dead guy" the implications..........

unsyncopate cotard's solution right this fucking second

the transition into dr sunshine lives is SO GOOD

was it when i left the cave and swore i'd. NEVER GO BACK!!!!!!!

how did he make white knuckle jerk hornier. what's with the moans. and why do i like it better than the original.

HEART BLUER THAN MY b-b-b-b-bbbbbaaaaa~a~LLLLLS!

the weird voices he uses in thermodynamic lawyer sure were a choice

fucking ADORE front street live. even better than the original and my favorite off of this album. literally just. the tempo changes. "if you're not on your worst behavior... get the fuck out!" "is this shit enough proof for you?" "give us all that fucking osmosis! oh, yeah!!" "sing it with me you fuckers!". he made a villian song sound even more evil. wtf and well done

i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i tru

the long ass intro for hand me my [x], i'm [y]! is fabulous. the anticipation!!!

the tempo is also faster here than the original which is awesome but overstimulating as hell when the second half of the bridge hits

take it away, creeps

here's a song *first chord of 2012*

by retracing myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ste-epppppppppp pssssssssss

the guitar riff that starts mr capgras makes my brain perk up like a bluetooth speaker being connected

FUCKING HURT EACH OTHER! COME ON!!!!

yet another banger intro! the latter half of this album does not miss!

can we drop this shit? i wanna see you at each other's throats, man, make some fucking noise. one two three oh YEAAAAAAAH

the transition here also. magical.

i definitely didn't almost cry at the end of fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva when the tempo slowed down and everyone was vocalizing

-ish is so fucking underrated oh my GOD you people don't talk about it enough

the people who sang "myself again" after "and i'm gonna be"...... read the room

the new harmonies on where do you get off, front street, and mr capgras give me life

overall i love it but i do believe that ww didn't sing the song with five names to spite me personally. he did sing it on in case i die but still. you don't know how much tax fraud i would commit to hear it live with a full band

#will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwattw #the real will wood #wii woo #wee woo #ren's rambles

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everythingne · 5 months

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wing damage - mv1

Eldest of the Halliwell-Horner pack, Y/n “Nadine” Horner gets her heart broken by the man she’s supposed to wed in six months. Four years of love slipping down the drain faster than she can try and grasp at the remaining water droplets. But... not all hope is lost as far as the f1 community is concerned and they might be right, since Max seems to be trying to get a little closer to his Team Principals daughter.

max verstappen x influencer!horner!reader

warnings & notes: cheating, mentions of alcohol, small age gap (24-27), strong language, probably inaccurate f1 information, using a name as a placeholder for y/n bc i’m not typing that every time, dates are off by two days in the beginning. deal, might have gotten christian's lore wrong but idk man he's just a white guy

fc: sophia la corte (and various ginger women on pinterest.)

04 MARCH 2024 — TWITTER. ↴

—

BAHRAIN, 04 MARCH 2024 — REDBULL GARAGE ↴

“Do you want me to confront him?” Max asks, sitting down next to me in the paddock. His hand comes to squeeze my knee, my father rubbing my back as he deletes every photo—every memory of Jacob Taylor from my phone. Four years down the drain. My friends back home at my apartment are currently bagging up his stuff. Both Mona and Ally will move in with me, just like college again, once his stuff is empty. My bare apartment will soon be filled with our old nick nacks but i can hardly be happy about it.

Cheated.

The man who spent 50k on an emerald cut four karat ring with a real gold band, cheated? The man who cried when his mom told him she loved me, cheated? The man who cancelled an entire film set because it conflicted with my schedule, cheated? The man who won over the hearts of not only Geri Horner, but Christian Horner? He was the one who cheated?

Jacob was (strong emphasis on the was) the highest standard I ever held. Now, I didn’t even know what standards to have anymore. Anyone could be a cheater. I never stood a chance.

“It’s fine, Max.” I say softly, wiping at my face again to try and make it look less like I’ve been sobbing since I found out as soon as the plane touched down two days ago. The paddock is buzzing, qualifiers getting ready to start for the first GP. The warm Bahraini sun beats down on the track and I can see the heat wiggling above it. Even in March it’s as hot as summer over here, and part of me misses the gloomy, smoggy streets of London right now.

“It’s not fine!” Max groans at me, throwing his head back in exclamation. I know he’s sick and tired of hearing me say it for the thousandth time, but if I say it’s not fine, I’ll break down. And we can’t have that.

“Max,” Pierre’s voice calls before Max can go on another tirade about killing Jacob. Max turns and I can see the hesitance in him to leave my side. He’s been like this since I met him the first day he raced with Red Bull years back—instantly the two of us clicked. When the days got hard, or his dad got on his back a bit too much, I would appear by his side and with a tiny smile somehow I'd fix everything. After I became his sort of 'chauffeur' when one of our drivers got sick in Abu Dhabi his first year, and we got stuck in an hour of traffic with nothing to do but talk, we became basically glued to each others sides.

I think having my unwavering support made a lot of the transition into Red Bull easier for him. And in moments like these, where he's watching me with a keen eye, I don’t know how I lived so long without his calm presence at my side. I was only a five years old when my dad joined Redbull, it’s been my entire life, and every racer who has passed through our team has never stuck to my side like Max Verstappen has.

“Go.” I nudge his knee when I see his hand twitch and hover by his helmet, eyes darting to me and then Pierre who waits in the doorway, so I supply, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Max nods, giving me a departing hug before he gets up and starts tugging his racing suit on. Immediately my father replaces him, turning my head to card his hands through my hair.

“Oh, honey.” My father murmurs, squeezing my arms as he lets me lean into him, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, Papa.” I sigh, leaning into him and letting his wrap his arms tight around me.

“No, I trusted that boy. That’s what I did wrong.” He says back, before handing me back my phone. We sit like that for a long time, people passing us without asking. Everyone knew. I had found out the same way they all did—on social media. Jacob didn’t even have the balls to tell me himself. Fucking coward.

Eventually someone calls my father away, the racing must now in full swing. So I force myself to sulk off to a hidden corner where I can munch on chocolates and watch Max from a little tv. Not as good as my usual perch next to my dad, but I don’t need the public seeing me the day I find out my fiancé of several years had been cheating almost the whole time. With his co-star. Fucking hell.

10 MARCH 2024 — INSTAGRAM ↴

THENADINEHORNER MADE A NEW POST!

liked by maxverstappen, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, and 124k others...

thenadinehorner: the halliwell-horner household >>

tagged: christianhorner, gerihalliwell, blubelhals, theoliviahorner.

USER HAS COMMENTS LIMITED ON THIS POST

gerihalliwell: love u lots mini ginger spice!!!!

⤷ thenadinehorner: mama ill cry </3

charlesleclerc: maman says hello and that she will have wine for you when you come to monaco

⤷ arthurleclec: nadine you are very beautiful do not let a man win -- maman

⤷ thenadinehorner: OMGGGG <3<3<3 XOXO MAMAN JE VOUS AIME TELLEMENT

christianhorner: my beautiful daughter

theoliviahorner: best sister ever

allycameragirl: cutest family fr

blubelhals: I LOVE YOU NADI COME BACK SOON !!!

maxverstappen: you and your sisters together is recipe for disaster

⤷ danielricciardo: bet they're planning ur downfall.

⤷ thenadinehorner: beware both of u 🔪

10 MARCH 2023 — LONDON, ENGLAND.

I knew returning home to my apartment was going to be hard. I had spent a few days with my dad, Geri, Olivia, Bluebell, and Monty. My father's third marriage had brought me Bluebell and Monty, Olivia's mother my first step mother and my father's second wife.

My mother? I didn't speak to her for good reason.

But being in my father and Geri's home had been refreshing enough to start and heal my heart. I also learned that Geri was really fucking good at healing, it involved a lot of wine and a lot of cursing.

My apartment had been a home full of happy memories of moving in with Jacob, and our time living together everyday I wasn’t at GPs and he wasn’t on set. Memories of our families and friends together with us, and now it would be just me. So empty. Alone. White walls with no decorations anymore. Just staring at me, closing in slowly.

God, I’d rather kill myself than deal with the solid ache in my heart that hasn’t left in almost a week.

Opening the door I sucked in a breath of pure agony. My father’s warm hand around my shoulder a soft reminder that even if I felt abandoned, I wasn’t alone. Not by a long shot. And as the door clicks open, my hand finds the lights instinctually, and my eyes widen to dinner plates.

“Welcome home!” a chorus cheers and I laugh, all my of old friends circled around the end of the foyers hallway, wine glasses and soju bottles in hand. I can’t even speak as tears fill my eyes and the girls run to me, waving my father off. He kisses my hairline, tells me he'll text me when he gets home, and shuts the door as my friends cart me into the kitchen and wipe my tears and fix up my messy hair with giggles.

“Tonight!” One of my friends—eventually I source the drunken giggles to Ally, “we will make you so hot and sexy, he will regret it.”

“And if he comes crawling back!” It’s Mona now.

“We will rip his dick off!” Marija shouts and the girls raise shots to me.

“Guys—what is all of this?” I can’t help but laugh, and then the three look at each other and smile.

“So… you’ve heard of a revenge dress, right?” Ally says slowly, and it all clicks.

—

10 MARCH 2023 — INSTAGRAM

THENADINEHORNER MADE A NEW POST!

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc, christianhorner and 976k others..

thenadinehorner: ‘little black dress, who you doin it for?’ 🖤

tagged: monanotlisa, allycameragirl, marijaswrld

USER HAS LIMITED COMMENTS ON THIS POST.

maxverstappen: Is this that ‘hot girl era’ thing?

⤷ charlesleclerc: i think so.

monanotlisa: absolutely sexy. as per usual.

allycameragirl: FUCKKK UR HOT 🖤🖤

landonorris: one direction???

⤷ thenadinehorner: ofc you know it’s one direction.

⤷ landonorris: cannot tell if this is a compliment or not but thanks ?

marijaswrld: 🧎‍♀️ < me

#my fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula one smau #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smau

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omegalomania · 1 year

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people bitching and moaning about fob "turning mainstream" as if that was never the entire point of fall out boy. that's In the goddamn dna of the band, it's baked into the ethos of why the band started in the first damn place. to be accessible to kids and especially to girls, who were often ridiculed and shunted out of the hardcore community. to be a gateway to bands that aren't as mainstream. to comment on the society they live in, as they live in it. people act like fall out boy "turning mainstream" was some kind of "betrayal" when from the start they were seizing on the trends of the time, putting their unique, unhinged fall out boy spin on them, and shooting them back out as a funhouse mirror. take this to your grave capitalized on the pop-punk zeitgeist that was big in the late 90s and early aughts and put their own spin on it: enmeshed catchy choruses with high-dexterity lyrical & linguistic skewerwork. infinity on high was basically a massive critique of the scene they were in - this ain't a scene it's a goddamn arm's race is a fucking thesis statement on what it is to be catapulted into fame in an industry that wants nothing more than a thousand cookie-cutter copycat acts of a successful formula, and fall out boy WAS the formula everyone desperately wanted to emulate. american beauty / american psycho blended sampling and modern hip-hop stylings with polished pop-rock and pointed those songs back at the snapshot of the 2010s we all lived in: commenting on racial injustice and the freeze-frame nature of relevancy. but even then they weren't doing it quite right - because fall out boy never does things quite right, they're never quite conventional, whether it's wentz's darkly confessional lyrics double-bagged in metaphor or stump's distinctive clear tenor or trohman's inescapable rock 'n roll edge or hurley's thunderous hardcore-punk-rock soul.

this band has always been too clever for its own critics, is the thing. but then, they always knew that. they knew they had a thriving fanbase of largely female fans so they were going to be mocked and belittled and ridiculed. they weren't quite right. they weren't quite so easy to market. pete wentz had to have all his hard edges filed off and cut down to size, skin lightened, literally whitewashed ("i feel like a photo that's been overexposed") to hell and back, even as he was marketed as the pretty boy of the band. and the other three members never even bothered with the spotlight: the soft-spoken vegan straightedge anarchist drummer and the wry, wisecracking, whip-clever guitarist who was more concerned with being the connective tissue than anything and the reticent vocalist who sang the words and wrote an awful lot of music but wasn't really the guy fronting the band. wentz's charisma carried the band, because the rest of them were really just some guys and never aspired to be anything else.

fall out boy is too pop. fall out boy is too mainstream. fall out boy isn't the real poster child of the emo movement. other bands are better. even within fall out boy's own narrative, they are repeatedly ignored, sidelined, and belittled, as though they weren't one of the only acts from the big 00s emo-pop movement to successfully not just survive the transition from the aughts to the '10s, and then later from the '10s to the '20s, but to thrive in it without banking on nostalgia. this band was supposed to be a flash in the pan. they weren't supposed to last and they weren't supposed to get big. they started off in joe's parents' attic because joe and pete were sick of how exclusionary and homophobic the hardcore scene was.

i think it's high time that people acknowledge how fall out boy has repeatedly succeeded where most of their other peers failed. cunning, clever, capable, and hyper-aware of the space they occupy in the culture surrounding them. that they are just as powerful, important, and artistic as any of the other bands in the scene that others might deify at their expense. that they deserve a hell of a lot more respect than they get from critics or hardcore punks who think they sold out. i hope one day they get that recognition. because they've earned it, time and time again, and the more i see people pushing back against that, the more certain i become of its inevitability.

#fall out boy #fob #*making poasts #this was supposed to be a pithy 3 sentence post but i kept going #just another Day In The Life of someone who sees a lot of garbage takes and gets tired #mostly i just shrug em off cause you know. what else is new. this has been going on since day 1.#but it saddens me. it saddens me that these guys are ridiculed for this still.#it breaks my heart that patrick isnt taken seriously as a composer in some circles because hes the guy from fall out boy.#it breaks my heart that people won't acknowledge pete as one of the most distinctive lyricists of our generation.#it breaks my heart that andy and joe are discredited and shit on within metal circles specifically because they're in fall out boy.#i hope they know that we get it. we get it and we're proud of them. no matter what.

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You part 10

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Married, back in London, Jake comes crashing back into your life

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/notables: A n g s t, complicated relationship stuff, cursing. Alcoholism, violence, injury, blood. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Leaning down, he brushed his lips over your cheek in a tender kiss... the softness of you electrifying him utterly.

"I'll never let him near you," he vowed, his fingers reaching up to trace his lips where your skin had touched. "And I'll never let him take Marc away from you."

“Read to me, husband," you purred into Steven's ear, curling close to his side.

His eyes cut over to you and he grinned, reaching to lace his fingers with yours. You sighed, your heart overflowing as your fingertip traced over the gold band he now wore.

"Long flight, darling. You sure you don't want to rest a bit?" He suggested, gazing at you adoringly.

"Maybe I will if you read to me," you teased, pulling your intertwined fingers to your mouth, your lips grazing his ring.

You may have been on an airplane, but it still felt like your own little world.

After a few chapters about ancient Egypt, and a long nap, you awakened to your husband watching an 80's action film on the screen on the back of the chair in front of him.

Marc.

Latching on to his arm, your fingers found his again, just to toy with his wedding band.

"Hey, baby," he softly greeted, kissing your temple. "Steven bore you to death reading about the pyramids?"

"Absolutely not," you playfully defended, "I just find the sound of his voice soothing."

"You know what's soothing?" He pointed to his screen with a grin. "RoboCop."

You groaned. "How much longer till we land?"

"We're not even halfway," Marc replied, glancing at his watch.

"Maybe RoboCop will put me back to sleep."

Your honeymoon was magical.

All your hard work, saving and planning paid off, and you and your husband had the time of your lives. Sun-drenched days, passion-filled nights, nothing but relaxation in paradise. Playing games with Marc, reading with Steven, delicious food (and a delicious husband).

It was just the refreshing reset you needed to kick off married life.

Truthfully, you wondered about Jake - you missed him, and the tiniest part of you hoped nothing would interfere with your little bubble of temporary heaven.

Everything seemed fine - you made it back to London refreshed and ready to proudly sport your wedding band everywhere you went. You didn't care if it seemed a little old fashioned. You were proud and thrilled to have a wonderful, dreamy husband.

Steven transitioned into summer session classes at uni while you contemplated advancing your nursing career. Marc seemed steady, albeit a little quiet. Not brooding quiet - more like...observationally quiet.

The two of you had discussed what he might like to do. After all, he had spent years as a man of action. But he insisted he was content in his current role, making sure Steven got the education and credentials he deserved.

Still...something about him seemed a little off. There was no evidence of him drinking, and, even in his darkest times, drinking was never something he hid from you. It was a bit difficult to hide anyway, but he never even attempted to. So you didn't suspect alcohol as the culprit.

After insisting he was fine for a few weeks, he finally admitted how hard he had been trying to communicate with Jake. You were a little surprised at first, but only at first. After all, Marc had never enjoyed the feeling of not having control - whether over himself, his life, or just in general.

By now, an eternity had passed since you last saw or spoke to Jake. When Marc admitted that he had spoken to Jake quite a few times since your wedding, you had to bite your tongue to keep from asking, 'Did he ask about me?'

You already knew the answer. Jake was not interested in all things you. Besides, this wasn't about you anyway - it was about Marc as a system. Instead, you asked Marc why he didn't say something sooner to you about speaking to Jake.

"I didn't want to upset you," was his explanation. Fair enough.

Instead of starting an interrogation with questions like, 'Does he still work for Khonshu?' and the like, you kept your focus on your husband and asked, "Is that why you've been so quiet?"

Chewing on his lip, he waited a minute before replying, "Maybe. Just trying to figure some stuff out."

The look on your face clued him in to the fact that he was being vague at best. So he knelt down in front you as you sat in Steven's reading chair, took your hands and said, "I'll tell you more soon. I'm working really hard to figure out how we can all be happy - how we can all coexist and really be safe, and free of Khonshu for good."

Oh.

If Marc was working on something Khonshu-related, then his contemplativeness tracked. He was so earnest in trying to confess this little piece to you, that you decided to believe him and not prod too much right now. Just for now.

The very next night, you came home from work a little late - a night quite reminiscent of the one when you had found Marc drinking - to find your flat dark and mysteriously quiet.

Calling your husband's names, you headed to the bedroom to get changed when you heard a thump and a groan from inside the bathroom. Panic shot through your body as you bolted through the door, shoving it open to find...Marc? slumped over the closed toilet, shirtless, clutching his side and groaning in pain.

"Baby - what happened?" You gasped, kneeling down and switching into triage mode. That's when you saw blood pooling around his hand, oozing through his fingers.

What the hell...

"Shit, you're bleeding," you cried, stating the obvious while jerking the nearest towel off the rack to press to his side.

He grunted, reluctantly dragging his crimson-coated fingers away, hissing as you pressed the cloth into his side to staunch the bleeding.

Tears burned your eyes at the sight of your wounded husband, but only for a second, as your medical training kicked in. You noticed right away that his knuckles were bloodied, as if he'd punched a wall. His lip was split, his eyebrow was cut and there were even a few angry scrapes across his cheek.

"Hold this here for me, baby, I need to get the first aid kit," you sniffed, pulling his hand back over the towel covering his bleeding side. Most of what you needed was in the bathroom with you, so as soon as you were ready, you sat down and reached for his fingers.

"Here, let me see," you instructed. You gasped at the deep, angry gash in his flesh. "Okay...okay, I need to stitch this up, honey, it's deep." Pausing for a moment, you realized it was a horrible idea to tend to your husband, especially with tears stinging your eyes.

"Actually, here," you pushed the cloth back over his wound, making him groan in agony. "Come on. We need to get to A&E - "

"No," he firmly protested. "You do it."

You shook your head. "Marc, listen, I really should-"

"No," he repeated, his eyes finding yours. "Too many questions. No police."

Shaking your head in frustration, you grabbed your first aid kit, which was really a small medical bag, containing enough supplies to be useful in an emergency.

You would do anything for Marc, but right now, you were confused and growing more worried by the moment. "What were you even doing? How did you get hurt?" You huffed, gathering the supplies to mend his wound.

He didn't answer, and that pissed you right off.

Pausing just for a moment, you glared at him, before gathering some clean towels. Without a word, you hurried to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil, just in case you needed to sterilize anything the old fashioned way.

When you returned to your husband, you had calmed down a little.

Pulling the bloody towel away from his side once more, you started to clean the angry gash, attempting to get ready to close the wound.

A few minutes later, you instructed Marc to move to the bed. You certainly weren't going to stitch him up on the bathroom floor.

Pausing for a moment, you granted him a reluctantly sympathetic smile, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead.

"This is going to hurt. I don't have anything to give you - anything to numb the pain," you carefully explained. "Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?"

He nodded once, but still wouldn't speak to you.

"How did you get hurt, Marc? I thought you still had...healing armor or whatever. From Khonshu." And why was he acting so weird?

The instant you had the thought that Marc really didn't seem himself was the moment you knew.

Staring into his eyes challengingly, you whispered his name. "Marc?"

Swallowing hard, he drew a trembling breath. "Not Marc."

All the blood drained from your face. You blinked rapidly, completely blindsided and so confused.

"Jake?"

Averting his gaze, he gave you another nod.

Despite all your medical training, you froze. Lips trembling, you reached up to his face, carefully minding his scrapes and cuts as your fingers traced his jaw. It had been so, so long...

"You're hurt," you whispered, as if it were new information. In a way, it was. Because a moment ago, in your mind, Marc was the one hurt. That was bad enough, but now, after weeks on end of hearing nothing...

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed at your touch. "Please help me."

Releasing his jaw, you covered his hand with yours, squeezing gently before nodding.

"This will hurt, Jake," you reminded him, as if he wasn't there a minute ago to hear your warning.

"'S okay. I deserve it." Closing his eyes, he laid his head down and waited for the pain.

You were going to fucking kill someone. Either Jake, for asking you to stitch him up rather than go to A&E while you were reeling, having not seen him for so long. Or Khonshu for honestly being a giant pile of dicks. Maybe even Marc. You weren't sure why you were mad at Marc, but you had a feeling he was involved in this steaming pile of shit somehow. The only one who might get a pass was Steven, unless he was in on this Khonshu bullshit too.

Jake could feel your anger. It was rolling off of you, electrifying the whole bedroom. But your hands remained steady, tender and professional, dancing over his wounded flesh. The dichotomy of your righteous anger and your healing mercy made him burn for you.

Each stab with your needle felt like a consequence for how he'd failed you. Failed Marc.

It was silent torture, but finally you finished, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You had thought he might pass out from exhaustion or pain, but he simply stared at the ceiling and said nothing.

Not one fucking word of explanation, or even a cry of pain.

With a sigh, you left the room to wash up and get rid of some of the bloody dressings and instruments. The sutures were not your best work - after all, you didn't stitch people up on a daily basis. But it would have to do.

Feeling exhausted in every way, you readied yourself to tend to the rest of Jake's injuries, bracing yourself for stone cold silence. It fucking hurt, but he was more than clear on the matter of not communicating with you.

Returning to Jake's beside, you said nothing. You simply lifted his hand into your own, carefully cleaning his bloody knuckles. You thought about making a joke along the lines of 'I should see the other guy, right?' but ultimately decided against it. It seemed pointless to even try.

Grabbing a couple extra pillows from your side of the bed, you handed them to Jake, who had been watching you warily.

"I need you to prop up so I can take a look at the cuts on your lip and over your eye," you explained.

He obeyed, shifting the pillows into position before protesting. "You've done enough, cariño, you don't have to - "

"Like hell I don't," you snapped. "My husband's body is hurt..." you exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "You're hurt, Jake. I'm doing this."

At first, he wouldn't look at you. You tended to the cut over his eye first - it was the worst one. "You'll need a bandage here...and it might even leave a scar through your eyebrow."

"I'm sorry," he repeated his apology from earlier. He didn't know what else to say.

"For what exactly?" You questioned, cleaning the scrapes along his cheek. You were close to him now, fingers brushing, eyes flickering, gazes locking. His breath ghosted over your hand.

"For everything," he offered, his own hand stretching out to grasp your elbow.

You jerked away. "That's really fucking specific, Jake. Thanks."

"Mi vida -" he started.

"Don't!" You bit out, glaring at him, your chest heaving. "Don't call me that. Just...just tell me how you got hurt. Tell me why you're not healing. Is Khonshu gone?"

Jake shook his head. "No. But our armor is."

"Why?" you gasped. "How can you...do your job if he doesn't protect you? I thought that was all part of the avatar package."

Jake didn't exactly feel comfortable with this line of questioning but he honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

"I think..." he started, clearing his throat. "I think it's...punishment."

Every negative and intense emotion coursing through your body narrowed to one. Terror.

"What?" You cried, placing your hands on his bare chest. "Khonshu did this to you?"

"No. He did this to Marc."

If there was anything Jake hated, it was causing you pain. He had made a sort of strange peace about staying out of your daily life, to protect you and Marc. He viewed returning your unopened letters as a mercy - as a way to let you off the hook.

But as you lay your head down on his chest, grasping his hand desperately, your warm tears flowing onto his bare skin, he knew he had utterly failed and completely misunderstood what you needed. After endless weeks of silence, it took one choked sob and desperate plea from you for him to break.

"Why would he hurt Marc?" You pleaded, clinging to Jake like a child would to a parent after a bad dream. "Please...please tell me what he did to my husband."

Jake smoothed his hand over your shoulder, rubbing your arm in a small attempt to comfort you, electrified by the nearness of you.

"I...um," releasing a shuddering breath, he decided you deserved to know. "Marc has been...talking to me. And Khonshu."

Jake went on to explain how Marc had been staying up late, attempting to maintain control of the body. How he had even gone out at night and summoned the suit -several times, in fact.

"Why?" You sniffled, leaning into Jake's embrace.

"I think he's trying to negotiate our freedom," Jake explained. "But...I don't want him to."

"Because it's your job," you spat, accusingly.

"No, mi amor," he gently corrected you. "Because the first night he put on the suit, he completely panicked, and almost bought some liquor."

You cried harder. What the hell was going on with them?

"He didn't drink," Jake clarified. "I was able to take the body after he started walking home. And the reason I don't want him doing all this is because I can't protect him if I'm not Moon Knight. If I'm not in control. If Marc is out there, and gets hurt, Khonshu doesn't care. He doesn't care if Marc drinks - in fact, he probably prefers it that way."

Easing his arms around you, Jake hissed at the stretch he felt in his stitched injury.

"Khonshu doesn't want me distracted," Jake explained. "By Marc or by you. He wants someone completely devoted to being his fist - to watching over the travelers of the night."

"That's bullshit," you argued, though most of your ire had given way to a form of despair. "If he was protecting people, he wouldn't have done this to Marc. He wouldn't have hurt him."

You and Jake lay on your bed, completely wrapped up in one another. He had tried to stay away for your sake, but if you needed this from him, he would gladly give it.

"He didn't hurt Marc directly," Jake went on. "He just..." blowing out a sigh, he mustered the courage to tell you. "He told Marc he was a worthless weakling and that he would pay for interfering. So..." Jake couldn't go on for a moment.

"What?" you whimpered, nuzzling your face into his neck as if you could hide from the horrible ancient deity.

"Khonshu waited until Marc was in the middle of a fight - he was trying to save a woman from...it was three men. Assholes..." His jaw clenched in fury. "Khonshu decided then to take away his armor. So...they beat the hell out of Marc and...they stabbed him. Cut him with a piece of glass. That's when I took the body." Too fucking late, as it turned out.

You broke down. You couldn't take it anymore. When would your husband ever be free of this torment?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jake said mournfully. "I tried so hard to protect him. To protect you from exactly a moment like this. I'm so sorry, mi vida."

He held you for a while, soothingly rubbing your back, thrilled and bewildered by the chance to hold you like this. To be able to give you some measure of comfort. To bear the injury Marc had sustained.

"Why do you call me that?" You softly questioned after your sobs had quieted. "Mi vida? Mi amor? I'm not."

Ouch. Jake's heart splintered.

But you went on to explain. "I've respected your choices, Jake, and your life on your own. But why do you call me those things if you don't even want to know me?"

"I told you - I do know you," he reminded you, his voice filled with conviction. "I think about you every day."

Propping up on one elbow, you peered down at him. "Then why won't you let me know you? Why did you return my letters?"

"To protect you," he insisted, wincing as you rolled your eyes. "From Khonshu. From everything. It was my fault Marc was drinking again. All of this pain, everything was because I wasn't doing enough - "

"Then let us help you, Jake," you pleaded. "Let's figure this out together."

"Marc tried and look what happened!" Jake fired back, flinching away from you. "He got hurt. He could have gotten us killed!"

Trying to sit up, Jake hissed in pain, his skin burning as your hands fussed over him, trying to help him.

"What happened tonight is exactly what I've been trying to prevent. No one is listening to me!"

"Because you don't fucking say anything!" You cried, climbing off the bed, scrambling around to stand in front of him. "All you do is play the martyr - lay down every piece of your existence on this sacrificial altar to a spiteful god! You don't talk to anyone, you don't know anyone, you don't do anything here but sleep!"

Tears streaked down your face as your lip trembled. "No one can listen to you because you've made yourself a ghost! You can't hear a ghost, Jake. You can't see or know a ghost. You can't love a ghost..."

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you whispered woefully. "But I love you anyway. I'm here and I'll listen to you. You just don't say anything. And I know it's because of me. I know you can't stand to be around me - I guess you despise me - but you could at least try harder with Marc and Steven - "

"What did you say?" Jake breathed, his voice cold. With tremendous effort, he pushed himself off the bed and stood before you, eyes wet with fresh tears. "You think I despise you? How can you..." He trailed off, raking his fingers through his curls. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Shaking your head mutely, you stared up at him, so sweetly broken.

"You're right," he finally said, his head dropping in shame.

With a small whimper, you started to sniffle again, thinking you were right about how he couldn't stand to be around you.

"I haven't said anything to you. I've tried so fucking hard not to."

"Why?" you whispered. "What did I do wrong?"

He completely melted, reaching out for you. "Nothing, mi alma. Not one thing, ever."

Still confused, you shook your head mournfully. "Then why don't you..."

Murmuring your name, he brushed tender fingers over your cheek. "I was trying to keep you out of this - to keep you safe - to set you free - but I can see now - I only made everything worse."

Touching his forehead to yours, he wrapped one arm around your waist. "De verdad lo siento, mi amor. Por favor perdóname. Te amo."

He normally only spoke English with you, simply because that's what you spoke with Marc and Steven. But in his overflow of emotion, that's what came out.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."

Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @spxctor @flyesvenustrap @spxctors @cicithemes2000

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ghouljams · 1 month

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same hozier anon from earlier!

i was rereading your viking au and couldn't stop thinking about soap and butchered tongue!? specifically:

so far from home have a stranger call you "darling" and have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand

of course, hozier is specifically discussing the treatment of indigenous peoples and the wexford rebellion of 1978. but it got me thinking, what was soap's transition into viking life like? what is it like to speak a different language with reader when it's something shared just between them? the first time reader calls soap a term of endearment in his own mother tongue?

imo, andrew made unreal unearth with the intent of forcing us through every circle of hell and then just keeping through it all on a loop. and i thank him for it (what does that say about me).

Viking!Soap and Butchered Tongue is such a winning combination. I absolutely adore that song, it makes me tear up each time I listen to it. We'll get to Soap's backstory, his trauma, in the official story line, but for now yeah I can talk about his transition to viking life.

Strange men speaking in strange tongues, their clothing so different from his own, but their rough hands are the same, the sadness in their eyes is the same. It's human, it's familiar in a way that stings more than the cuts along Soap's face. They don't understand him when he speaks, looking between themselves, talking in quiet tones. The language they speak is rough, like hearing his own sounds jumbled back to him, but Soap's always been quick. Certain words repeat themselves, certain sounds repeated between men questioningly. He can make assumptions.

He tugs the cloak one of them men gave him tighter around his shoulders. He doesn't want to seem weak in front of them, not when they're so clearly attempting to decide what to do with him. A different man pushes the conversation apart with his mere presence, leveling Soap with an icy stare. When he opens his mouth the words that come out are rough and mispronounced, but familiar.

"You want work?"

Soap nods quickly. Work, sure. He's strong, he's smart, he'd do anything to get away from the smell of death that carried him here, he can work. Even if it's hard, even if he hates it, he can work. Anything to get off this godforsaken rock.

What he thought would take months takes mere weeks. Weeks of living with the men that call themselves vikings to pick up enough of their language to converse. "Soap" they call him.

"Because ya needed a bath," Ghost grumbles over dinner one night. Soap laughs, not because it's particularly funny, but because he understands him. It's rueful, almost despairing. He understands him. No one will ever hear the words of the Mactavishes again.

Working helps him adjust. There are things to do to keep his mind off of everything, he learns the words for ship parts before he learns colors. He knows how to count money before he learns how to introduce himself. He knows Price before he learns the word for Captain, learns not to apologize for that. He watches the sun fall, watches it rise again. He teaches Gaz a few words, stops when it makes the ache in his chest grow too big and unavoidable. They get back to his new home and he's given a share of the profits, more money than he's seen in his life. He's given a bed in the long house, warm food, new clothes, he's given a sturdy iron band to wear around his arm, if he wants.

He learns the language, the culture. He adjusts. He translates the next time they're across the sea, trading with people he no longer feels familiar to. A viking wearing his tartan over his shoulders, speaking a familiar tongue, he feels like a stranger in his homeland. He leans against Ghost by the fire, toys with the iron band around his wrist. Strangers to every land but the one that took them in.

He misses his ma.

He doesn't mention it.

He meets you like a ghost of his past. He watches your village burn and sees his own in the smoke. He hauls you off kicking and screaming, in a familiar, painful, tongue. You sound like his memories of home. You sound like the place he's never been able to forget. You mean everything to him, and you hate him.

You won't speak to him, not the way he wants you to, and it's like losing his home all over again.

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #viking!soap #viking au

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man-down-in-hatchet-town · 5 months

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VHSCC OH MY GOD

(no spoilers)

Starkid nation, you aren't ready.

So let's start with the obvious. Look, I spent thirteen years growing up with Starkid. That initial Michigan gang are deeply special to me and I will always miss Dylan, Brian R., and Corey in any show they aren't in. And this one's no different. But just as Janaya came in and took over Belle from Britney so flawlessly, Curt, Brian, and AJ were all WONDERFUL in their new roles. The gentle-but-high-energy, truly decent, romantic himbo charm Curt brought to our Springsteen boy Jim (you all are going to LOVE Jim, I promise) perfectly offset the defiant, sneering anger of Young Scrooge in "That Scrooge." Brian's reactions (particularly to the "rather take my own life" line) were so funny and some of my favorite parts of the show. And AJ... this is now my favorite thing AJ has ever done. And that's saying something. The smaller casting shake-up moments (Joey as Fezziwig, other little line re-distributions) were so fun as well!

The new act 1 is PERFECTION. I was actually surprised by how absolutely hysterical it was? Like, I won't tell you what was up with that clip on Instagram of Brian, Lauren, and Joey doing a freak-out dance, but I can tell you that their whole Act 1 deal threatened to steal the show every. Single. Time. I already mentioned Curt as Jim, but you will also love Della, who is so funny and real and truly carries us through the start of the show (Janaya is a STAR and she Curt have brilliant chemistry). Ali did a terrific job of balancing the sadness and hope that are both at the center of the devastating little Match Girl. And Jamie's Grandma... well, honestly I have no idea how to talk about Jamie's song without giving stuff away.

But the real star of the show in Act 1, as he should be, was our man Clark. I can't emphasize enough how much he nailed the writing of this whole new act. I mentioned that the new stuff is hilarious, but it's also deeply heartfelt, and also sad exactly when it needs to be. Like, the transition after Jamie's song? I can't really talk about it yet, but what that moment does with emotion is unreal. And, as expected, every song is a banger! My one complaint about this show, and it IS a big one, is that there is no cast recording of the Act 1 songs. I want to listen to them all the time.

But the good news is, I CAN listen to Christmas Carol as much as I want! The classic that started it all is back, with so many people reprising the hell out of their truly iconic roles (God I love the VHS Cratchits), and better than ever. I traditionally hate change, and I love the version of VHSCC Live! we already have so much, but I think I somehow loved this version even more? The staging is alive and clever and there are some additions and changes, particularly in "Final Ghost"/"Christmas Day," that frankly blew my mind and somehow managed to elevate the material even further. I can't wait for the digital ticket to come out so that I can talk about them. To put it simply, James Tolbert mastered his Starkid directorial debut like you won't believe. I'm so proud of him and grateful for the larger role he's taken in Starkid since they moved base to LA.

Also, the Ghost of Christmas Past is extra unhinged this year? Jaime pulled out all of the impish stops and it was the BEST.

Basically, everyone more than delivered. I haven't talked about Meredith yet but she rocked it in the band and continued to validate the hell out of my opinion that "3 Spirits" is the dark horse best song in the show.

And a special shout-out to June Saito for continuing to be a costuming GENIUS. I always love her work and this production is no exception. I honestly wanted to give the return of the Bob Cratchit costume its own round of applause.

You know, the world is a mess and everything is pretty much terrible. It's been a hard year in an impossible decade. But every once in a while you come across some art that takes all of that, acknowledges the truth of it, and somehow pulls back the curtains to harness the joy and hope that's still there under the rubble. To me, Starkid in particular has always been about finding and holding onto the hope and the beauty and humanity that allows us to endure an existence that can so often feel bleak. And VHSCC is maybe the most perfect encapsulation of that idea.

So thank you Clark, James, Meredith, Brian, and everyone who worked so hard on this little bit of magic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let's make a little light.

#apologies for any typos it is late and I've had a wild day #Also shout out to Meredith for the number of times she teared up while playing in the band #she is so real for that #starkid #team starkid #vhscc #vhs christmas carols #clark baxtresser #james tolbert #AJ Holmes #Meredith Stepien #Brian Holden #Janaya Mahealani Jones #Jamie Burns #Lauren Lopez #Ali Gordon #Curt Mega #Joey Richter #Jaime Lyn Beatty

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