#[ * I noticed he was there in January i think. i don't remember well if it was later or earlier ]

[starmonsterrr]

Hello :}

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: that's it folks. welcome to the end. peace out (my hand is hurting like a bitch) NOT EDITED NOT BETA READ EXCUSE THE MISTAKES

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

max: ANSWER ME

max: [NAME] I SWEAR TO GOD

max: I’LL FLY TO TEXAS RIGHT NOW I SWEAR

max: THIS IS ALL FUN AND GAMES FOR YOU ISNT IT

max: YOU FUCK ME AND THEN YOU LEAVE

max: YOU'RE ALL FUCKING THE SAME ALWAYS LEAVING ME

max: FUCK YOU [NAME]

max: TALK TO ME YOU COWARD

max: EXPLAIN YOURSELF

max: IM GOING INSANE HERE

Max has visited your apartment a total of two times since he’s given you the keys. The first time—Max remembers it was in early January 2020. You held a housewarming party disguised as a little lunch get-together as a thank-you for his gift. Daniel and him as well as two of your former roommates, Max recognizes them as Julia and Kendall from the PR team, are the only ones invited. You cooked pasta. Your mother’s recipe, you claimed. It easily became one of Max’s favorite dishes in the world and he requests you to cook it from time to time.

The second time, Max remembers going there again after the Monaco Grand Prix 2021. It’s been only a week after your breakup with Leo and four races before the incident with the Hamilton fan in Silverstone. The team holds a dinner to celebrate Max taking P1 and usually, you’re present in these types of things—the after parties and team dinners and all forms of team celebrations in general because you like celebrations but you're nowhere to be found.

Max finishes dinner quickly and excuses himself to Horner. He grabs a beer and drives himself to your apartment, because he knows you’re definitely not staying in the hotel with the team.

When you’re sad, you tend to hide away. It's an annoying habit. You make it your career to dig your nose into everyone’s problem—Max’s most especially—and provide everyone with the help you can offer. It's your love language, Max thinks, to be insanely helpful to everyone but the moment that the places switch and you’re the one who needs help, you run away because you refuse to bother everyone else with your problems despite the amount of people who are willing to return the favor you gave them in the past. It is very hypocritical of you.

He knocks on your door. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him. It's an established pattern, a system that works for both of you. You shout for him to wait and Max does so, observing the details of the woodwork in front of him as he waits patiently for you. You have a very nice door.

You open the door. Max’s brows raised slightly at the sight of you. You're still in your Red Bull polo shirt but instead of the pencil skirt you were wearing during the race, you wore short shorts instead. Black, fitted, and they stop a little above your mid-thighs. You're barefoot, too. No YSL heels in sight.

Max turns into a lovely shade of pink. You don't notice it.

You have long legs despite being 5’5” only, which gives off the illusion that you’re very tall when you're actually not. Your body ratio consists of seventy-five percent legs and twenty-five percent upper body. You have lean legs. It's full of childhood scars—thin white lines that are barely noticeable because of how old they are. You have well-built calves and dainty ankles, which look weird but also look right, and your feet are veiny, jagged lines of green blue on skin. Max thinks it's because you wear heels every day.

“Somethin’ wrong, man?” your voice sounds nasal, hoarse, and deep at the same time. Your eyes and nose are red and Max knows full well that you’ve been crying over Leo again and yet you carry yourself as if you're fine, standing in front of him with your shoulders straightened and your tone professional.

Max never liked the bitterness that washes over him whenever he sees you with Leo. But at that moment, he’ll rather endure the bitterness that chokes him until he thinks he’s about to pass out if that makes you alright, if that makes you stop crying.

“I have beer.”

It's a lame thing to say. He should have said something better. He should have asked if you’re alright, should have asked why you were crying, should have asked if there's anything you need him to do just so you’ll feel better. But his mind blanks and he just thrusted the beer forward.

You smile, shaking your head. You take the beer from his hands gratefully, “I have pasta. Wanna go in?”

It's a fair trade. You love beer. He loves your pasta. And so, he entered your apartment.

He faces your door for the third time in 2023. A million thoughts run around his brain per second as his eyes train on the wood patterns of your front door. Dread pools in his stomach as he holds the door knob. He only holds it, not twisting it and pushing it open just yet.

Max is stalling. He knows that. He shouldn't be stalling. He knows that, too.

He dreads what's waiting for him on the other side of the door. He can hear your voice in the back of his skull, saying, “Pussy. You risk your life and drive a rocket ship for a livin’ and you’re afraid of openin’ a damn door?”

Max takes a deep breath and opens the door. Silence and emptiness greets him.

Your apartment has always been bare. You refuse to buy carpets, curtains, houseplants, decorative furnishings or anything that can make your loft apartment seem like someone actually lives there.

(“It's expensive here,” you said.

“I’ll pay,” Max offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll just bring something from home.”

You never did.)

Max’s feet lead him to your living room. Dust accumulates on top of your glass coffee table and couch. Max remembers them coming along when he bought the apartment. You never got them changed.

His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the familiar looking box that sits atop the coffee table. He strides towards it, head tilting to read the little pink sticky note attached to it. It reads: Sorry Max, I can't steal more from Kelly.

Max’s entire world crumbles down. He opens the shoe box and sees the shoe, arranged carefully in place.

He hurriedly reaches for the folder next to it and reads the writings inside.

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024.

Max keeps re-reading the last two sentences just to make sure he’s reading it correctly.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager.

I resigned, Max.

resigned.

Max hurls the shoe box and it zooms in the air and hits the wall. He fists his hair and pulls. A scream erupts in his throat. The neighbors are going to file a noise complaint but Max cannot bring himself to care. He’s the one whose heart is breaking here.

He grabs the folder. Max feels something fall on his foot. He looks down.

A beaded bracelet. Navy blue and red—the color of Red Bull. There are three white beads in the bracelet and on those three white beads are the letters M and V—his initials—and the number 1—his current number.

Max drops on his knees. He picks up the little thing with trembling hands. He brings the bracelet to his chest and Max falls apart. This time, you’re not here to hold him together.

max: hey im planning to visit the US

max: do you think you can show me around?

Logan Sargeant is a good driver. That's a given. It's his profession. But the way he drives; it's making Max sleepy.

“So….” Logan begins awkwardly. “I’m assuming you're visiting Texas because of [Name].”

Max nods, “Yeah.”

“You're not mad at her, are you?” Logan asks. “For resigning?”

“She told you?”

So you told the American boy but not him? Max cannot help but be offended now.

“Well, I kinda assumed? Liam mentioned it to the other day, who heard the news from his cousin.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lawson?”

“Yes, Lawson.”

Max remembers the kid all too well. Liam Lawson has overtaken him in Singapore after all. It's embarrassing. Watch out, Max, you teased him. Liam’s out to get you.

“Liam probably heard it from Leo.”

“Leo?”

Logan is mentioning too many names. Well, it’s just two but two is still many for his brain to comprehend right now.

“Yeah, Leo and Liam are cousins.”

Max pauses.

“Leo and [Name] still talk so I guess [Name] told Leo, who must have mentioned it to Liam, who then mentioned it in the groupchat with me and Osc—are you okay?”

Max tries his hardest not to scream.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. “I’m fine. How far are we from Austin?”

They drive past a sign that says “Welcome to Austin.”

“Well, it looks like we’ve just arrived.”

Max is once again offended that Logan knows where you live while he doesn't. Vista Del Pueblo, Logan tells him the name of the place as they hop off the car. It's funny how close you lived from the Circuit of the Americas. No wonder you always requested to be home after the Austin GP before flying off to the next city.

The two-storey yellow and red brick house is empty. Despite that, it looks like a perfect picture of a happy childhood home. The backyard and the patio is wide. Beside the driveway stands an olden tree. Below the tree is a reclining chair that looks like it has gone through a dust storm and a thousand rains.

“It’s empty,” Max announces. Logan nods.

“Yeah.”

Logan ends up approaching an old woman in the neighboring house who was sweeping dust off her porch and asks her if she knows the [Last Name] family’s whereabouts.

“They haven't returned home since Christmas,” she replies. “Everyone in the neighborhood tried contacting them but no one got through. Ever since Julio died… It's like the entire family followed after him.”

Max and Logan stiffen, shocked at the news that's just been revealed.

Julio died….?

Max needs to find you. Urgently. He needs to see if you're okay.

The sun retires for the night and Max decides that it's time for Logan and him to retire as well. Logan drives them to a hotel and Max pays for two rooms despite Logan insisting that he can pay for his own. They grab dinner at the hotel restaurant, in a private area that Max paid for.

“You’re not angry at her, aren't you?” Logan asks for the second time that day. His plate is half empty. Meanwhile, Max’s plate is barely touched. His appetite significantly decreased. He keeps thinking about you, worried about how you're coping with Julio’s death. You are never the best person when it comes to dealing with pain. Physical pain, you can handle. You’re barely fazed when you burn your hand in the oven, when you hit your hip at the corner of the table, when you accidentally get scratches and you don't even notice it until someone points out the blood that terrifyingly drips down your arm. Max can still remember how you dealt with your breakup with Leo. All those nights crying, the unhealthy fixation in work so you won't have any space feeling human emotions, the moments where you disconnect with reality that Max has to pull you out of many times. The death of a father is a million times worse than a breakup. Max imagines a thousand scenarios in his mind. He needs to be with you right now. He needs to make sure you're alright.

“I hope you're not. You obviously are but I still hope you're not,” Logan continues. “She was always going to leave, you know? She told me in January. She told me that she needs to—

Max accidentally throws the glass of water he was holding. It falls onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the room. Logan stares at Max with his eyes wide. A cleaning crew comes in a hurry and cleans it up. Max doesn't apologize, he only says, “send me the bill later” and sends the crew out. He turns to Logan.

“She needs to what?”

“You're angry.”

You reminded me, Max said in his mind.

“And?” Max raises his brow. “She needs to what?”

Logan lets out a shaky breath, “She needs to become an engineer or else she’ll never forgive herself.”

Manager. Engineer. What's so damn special about that engineering position anyway? Why are you so hell bent on leaving Max? Red Bull pays you more than an engineer. Hell, Max is even willing to raise your salary to the same amount as half of his annual salary in Red Bull if it keeps you from leaving him. Max is willing to pay for your student loans and refund everything you paid to USC during your college years.

Max pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. He’s feeling too many emotions all at once.

“I think it's best if you talk to Leo?” Logan suggests. Max appreciates that he’s trying to be helpful but mentioning Leo brings nothing but more anger in him. Fucking Leo. Why does he know where you are? He’s your fucking ex for god’s sake. Why are you even still talking to your ex? “He’s close with [Name]. I think he can help you.”

Max contemplates.

He doesn't want to ask fucking Leo.

And he’s not that desperate to seek help from him.

Logan writes his number on a table napkin. Max pockets it.

After dinner, Max sits inside his hotel room. He dials the number Logan gave him because if he’ll tell you where you are, he can swallow his pride for a day. It takes three redials and two rings before Leo answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Leo Stark?”

“Yes, this is he. May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Max Verstappen.”

Silence.

“Hello, are you still there?”

Max hears a loud crash followed by a series and a whole lot of ruffling, “Sorry about that. Do you mind repeating that?”

“Max Verstappen.”

“Ah, so I’m not hearing things. I thought I was hearing things. Sorry. Do you wish to talk to James Vowles? I can transfer the call to him.”

“No,” Max says. “I want to talk to you. It's about [Name].”

“Oh.” A pause. “You're going to ask me where she is, aren't you?”

“You're smart.”

“Well, mate, too bad. I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,” he echoes. “I mean I can but I won’t.”

“So you know where she is.” It's not a question. Something bitter rears its ugly head in his stomach. His bitterness and anger now dwarf his worry for you in size. Fuck Logan for reminding him that you always wanted to leave. Fuck Leo for knowing where you are.

“I’m going to ask again and you better give me the answer I want. Where is she?”

“The answer you want?” Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s always what you want. Have you considered what she wants? Does [Name] even want you to find her?”

“You don't know what you're talking about—”

“I do,” Leo interrupts and the way he sounds so sure of himself aggravates Max. “I do, mate. Believe it or not.”

“I see what's happening here,” Max sneers. “I’ve heard you and [Name] broke up because she was prioritizing me over you. Is this it? Are you doing this out of petty jealousy?”

Leo sighs, “You’re making this about you again.”

Max opens his mouth to retort but Leo cuts him off, “Let me get this straight with you, mate. When we were still dating, not once have I been jealous of you. I understood that she works for you and that she has to put you first in certain situations. After all, you’re her job. I’m just the home she returns to after work.”

Max���s jaw clenches. Leo was her home. It was the truth no matter how much Max hated it. Leo does not stop there.

“I have no issue with her focusing on you. The only problem I have with it is her tendency to focus more on you than herself. If you come to her at a very vulnerable time, especially now, there’s a chance that she’s going to focus on you again. She deals with grief in a very unhealthy way and I don't want her to do that. Not when she needs to properly grieve for her father.”

Leo sighs again.

“So please, mate, just this once. Think about what she needs right now and it’s not you.”

You don't need Max.

But Max needs you.

That is one of the most painful truths he’s ever been given.

“She’ll come back. She always does. It may take months. Years, even. Just… Let her grieve and let her pick herself up. There are people who don't want help because they need to do it themselves or else it won't feel fulfilling. [Name] is no different. Also, I’ll be honest with you, mate. I don't want you coming to her before she achieves her dreams. You’re so used to [Name] giving you everything you want that you forgot that she, too, is someone who needs and wants and dreams. She just wanted to be an engineer.”

“And how is this my fault?”

“You knew what she wanted. You agreed to help her achieve it. You didn't allow her to move to Renault. You told her that you’ll ask your team principal after you win and you did win but you didn't keep your end of the bargain.”

“I—”

“Who are you to control her dreams? If you love her, you would have asked Horner, at least. She knows you never asked Horner. Maybe she would have never resigned if you tried to talk to Horner, but you let your selfishness win.”

Max feels all breath punched out of his lungs.

“You had the power to ask your team principal yet you didn't and she has to watch you achieve your dreams while she can't. Unfair, don’t you think?”

A pause.

“Just start considering what she feels, mate. That's all.”

“I am considering her. Always.” This is the closest to a love declaration he can admit out loud. The purest form of love is consideration, they say. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel, pays attention to detail, holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you, keeps promises so you won’t be disappointed, that's when you know they love you.

“Are you really?”

Is he really?

“Take care of her for me, Verstappen. Even from afar. You can do that.”

The call ends.

Max stares blankly at the wall, still holding his phone against his ear. Then, he hurls it across the room. He aggressively drags his hand through his face.

Max flies back to Belgium after Austin to spend the rest of his off-season with his mother and sister. He apologizes to Logan for his behavior. Logan is a kind man, he forgives easily. He drives Max to the airport.

The next day, an article is posted, titled—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN.

On New Year's Eve, Kelly messages Max. He can't say that he’s surprised. In truth, he’s been expecting her to message him, whether it's to beg to take her back or to curse him out or to tell him something about Penelope or it's to inform him that she's going to pick up her things in Max’s penthouse in Monaco.

kelly: i sent someone to pick up our things in your place

max: okay

kelly: also

kelly: *sent a photo*

kelly: she apologized for something that's not her fault

kelly: you have a good one

The photo is a screenshot of Kelly’s conversation with you, dated December 30. That was yesterday.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Max looks up to see his mother’s worried face.

“Oh, uh,” he closes his phone and almost drops it. Fucking clumsy fingers, fucking messages, fucking pain. “Nothing, Mum.”

His mother does not look convinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? No need to hide it. You may be a world champion now but you’ll always be my baby,” she says. “What does [Name] always say? Even champions are allowed to cry.”

At the mention of you, Max looks away.

“Tell me. Is it Kelly?”

The last time Max cried in his mother’s arms was when he was eleven. Jos always said boys should never cry. That boys who cry are weak. And weak people do not become champions. Max wanted to be a champion so he never allowed himself to be weak. Weakness only becomes a weakness if it is known so he learned to bottle it up over the years and all the bottled grief became anger. Hence, the birth of his serious anger issues.

He’s twenty-seven now with three WDC titles under his belt. He’s outgrown both of his parents in terms of physical size and in career accomplishments but when his mother’s arms wrapped around him, he allowed himself to become a little boy again. He allowed himself to be weak.

“She left me, Mum,” Max whispers, hugging her mother close. Sophie rubs his back in soothing circles.

“You’ll find someone, Max,” his mother assures.

“I don't want someone else,” he says. “I want [Name].”

“Oh.”

Sophie blinks.

“Max, you—”

“Please, don't make me say it, Mum,” Max pleads, squeezing his eyes shut. A lone tear drips down his cheek. “Don't make me say I’m in love with [Name].”

Max sends an email to Christian that he’s not going to take a manager in 2024. Christian tells him it's a bad idea, that he needs a manager because he’s becoming busy with his schedules and everyone wants a piece of time with the third-time world driver’s champion but Max cannot care less. If it’s not you, he’d rather have no one at all.

Max wants to learn how to get used without you on his side. He did a little reflecting over pre-season and realized how he had become so dependent on you. He learns the functions of a Google calendar and how to use a Notion page.

Max just knows 2024 is going to be a shitty year for him.

Bahrain, Max remembers, is your favorite track. He doesn't know why you like Bahrain. Bahrain is hot. Bahrain is not as exciting as other race tracks. Personally, he prefers Spa-Francorchamps.

He also remembers that you like watching the air show. You never said it outright but you always have this smile on your face while watching the jets painting the sky with colors so Max kind of figured.

Max snaps a picture of the jets in the sky. He opens his Instagram and searches for your name in his message list. When he presses his conversation with you, the first thing that greets him is his spam of angry messages. All delivered, all unread. The last message, Max remembers, was sent when he visited Austin with Logan to search for you.

max: SO YOU TOLD LEO BUT NOT ME? DO I EVEN MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU?

His finger hovers on the send button. He lets out a sigh and he pockets his phone instead.

Daniel approaches Max after Max wins Jeddah.

“Hey, have you been talking to [Name]?” he asks.

“Not lately,” answers Max. Not since she left me, Max thinks.

Daniel scratches his nape. “I think she's angry at me.”

“You’ve been talking?”

Now, Max is offended. So you talked to Leo, you talked to Kelly, you talked to Daniel, but you made no effort to talk to him? When was he going to get a message from you?

“Well, I kinda…” Daniel pulls out his phone. “I just checked up on her? And she replied like a week later. She sounds kinda angry? I don't know. Do you think she sounds angry?”

Daniel shows Max his last conversation with [Name].

daniel: hey!

daniel: heard from max what happened

daniel: we miss you! you should visit come by in bahrain! the opening is gonna be sick

you: can't sorry

daniel: aww how about jeddah

daniel: i’ll fly you out don't worry about traveling commercial

you: idk man

you: might be too much noise and distraction for you

you: good luck in jeddah tho

A very passive aggressive reply.

“Yeah, she is,” Max supplies.

Max wins Bahrain. Max wins Jeddah. Australia, on the other hand, is a funny story. First, the Williams team pulls an annoying move. Poor Logan. He had to give his car to his teammate and sit out of the race.

Max visits him after the news was officially announced. He finds the American racer in his driver room, sitting sadly on the bed with his head bent low, after asking a rookie Williams mechanic, who trembled at the sight of him.

It's a pitiful looking room. Max has a villa for a driver room. Logan doesn't even have a closet for his overalls, just a rack held together by hopes and dreams. The bed is so tiny and narrow that Max is sure he wouldn't even fit if he lies in there unless he assumes a tight fetal position.

“You’re here,” Logan stands from the bed, eyes wide in surprise. He hasn’t expected Max to visit him out of all the people in the grid. Not even his own teammate performed that courtesy. “Uh, I don't have anything. Here, have my seat. Do you want me to grab—”

“It's fine,” Max holds his palm up. “Sit back down, Logan.”

Logan slowly sits back down and moves to the side so Max can have a space to sit on. Max occupies Logan’s given space beside him. Their shoulders and elbows are touching.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Logan nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Max nods, but he doesn't believe him. Comfortable silence wraps the entire room. It lasted less than five minutes.

“You should break the car,” Max suggests seriously. “So no one can drive it, too.”

A soft laugh escaped Logan’s throat.

The door swings open and enters Leo, who freezes when he sees Max Verstappen sitting next to Logan. He looks at the two F1 drivers then back in his hand, where he was holding a large Stanley cup and two styro cups.

“Great, I only brought two cups,” he says, kicking the door behind him to close it. “Should have told me the world champion is coming. I would have brought the expensive wine.”

“What do you have there?”

“Beer,” Leo lifts the Stanley cup and gives it a small shake. “Transferred it to a Stanley cup so no one would notice.”

“James wouldn’t be happy,” says Logan, frowning.

“We’re not happy with him either,” Leo retorts, pouring the beer into the two cups. He hands one to Logan and another to Max.

“I suggested breaking his car,” Max inserts, accepting the cup. He still feels a bit weird to be hanging out with Leo like this. He’s angry still, but he’s not as angry as he was in Austin. Leo’s words, though Max would never admit it out loud, made sense. You left because of Max’s own selfishness. He was the one who had cut your wings and thought that his gesture was out of love when in fact, it was an action born out of his desperation and his fear of being left behind by you.

“Should I?” Leo humors his suggestion, shrugging his shoulders.

Logan sighs, shaking his head at the two. He can’t believe they're both older than him but still wield that petty immaturity.

“Please don't.”

Second, the RB20 has brake issues in Australia so Max ends up retiring in the middle of the race. Max hears everyone cheer at his retirement. That's when you know he’s good. When everyone wishes for his downfall. Everybody in Red Bull grows wary watching their prized driver stomp inside the garage, looking like he has a lot to say to the mechanics. His head is as hot as the burning car at the pit.

Max hears two people whispering amongst themselves:

“Mad Max is back.”

“Where's [Name] when you need her? He’s going to get blow up at us now.”

“[Name] really is a saintess because she’s the only one who can handle him when he’s angry.”

“I never appreciated her efforts before but I am now. I hope she never left.”

Max hopes she didn't, too. Out of all the people in Red Bull, he’s the one who wishes that she hasn't left the most. Now, he’s even angrier.

Max wins P1. If he doesn't, it's a DNF. The problem is the reliability of the car, not him. Never him.

He steps foot in Austin soil again on October 15th for the 19th race of the season, eager to win another P1 and increase his chance of snatching his fourth consecutive world driver’s championship title.

Fortunately, the RB20 doesn't fail him mid-race. The Dutch national anthem is heard all around the Circuit of the Americas and Max retires to the garage, too tired for any form of celebration. He wants to change out of his racing gear. He still has to fix his Google calendar and check out a few things in his Notion page. Who knew being your own manager can be so tiring?

Kendall comes by, a camera in hand. She snaps a quick picture, only one take because she knows Max hates taking pictures. Max believes you mentioned it to her before and has asked her to take the pictures quickly so he wouldn't get annoyed. You were always too thoughtful, always mindful of the little details. Perhaps, it was why he fell in the first place.

Max pivots on his heels to leave after he hears the camera click.

“Oh Max,” Kendall stops him. “[Name] came by earlier. She said congratulations.”

Max entire world stops spinning. Everything else became a mass of white noise.

“Where's she?” Max demands.

“She left already, said she’s got somewhere to be—”

Max sprints to his driver room, grabs his keys and ran all the way to the parking lot where his car was parked, not minding the screams and the questioning stares he received from the people he ran past them to his car. His mind only focuses on one thing—he has to get to you.

He drives down to the familiar road that he and Logan drove in last December 2023. He's racing against time and like all races he'd participated in, he hopes to win. He hopes that he’ll be able to see you. Max arrives at the red and yellow brick house in Vista Del Pueblo, jogging up until the front door and knocking. Four slow knocks followed by three quick ones, so you’ll know it's him.

No one answers. Max jogs up to the window at the front and peeks inside. The house is still empty as it had been in December.

Max's shoulders sagged.

He wasn't fast enough.

[kathlare]

caught in the silence

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie spends a quiet evening in London with her mother and grandmother, only for an unexpected conversation to reveal long-held family secrets about her relationship with Lando.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

January 30th, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Victoria sat in the grand living room of her mother's massive London house, the smell of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. The house, decorated with vintage tapestries and ornate furniture, felt even bigger than it was with the silence of just the two women sitting together. Amelie’s grandmother, Julie, sat across from her, her hair silvery gray, eyes sharp despite her age. The conversation was casual, yet there was a certain weight behind every word spoken between them.

—Amelie and I are doing well,— Victoria said, smiling softly as she sipped her tea. —I’m glad she’s finally found some balance, with work and all. But I do wish she'd be more forthcoming about… things. She's been so secretive lately, hasn't she?—

Julie chuckled softly, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her teacup. —Ah, Victoria, you know how she is. Always keeping things close to the chest. But I have to admit, I'm glad she's spending more time with me. It's been lovely having her back in London.—

Victoria nodded, the pride in her daughter's progress evident. —Yes, it's been good for her. But there's still something I can't quite put my finger on. Lately, she seems so... distracted. And she's been spending a lot of time here, hasn’t she? More than usual. Almost like she’s hiding something.—

Julie set her teacup down with a knowing smile. —Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Victoria. Something about a certain British young man who has been sneaking around in my house.—

Victoria raised an eyebrow. —What are you talking about?—

—Come on, darling,— Julie said, her smile widening. —You know who I mean. Lando. He's been slipping in and out of this house every chance he gets. I’ve caught him a few times. Not that I'm complaining, of course. But Amelie and Lando? They're very clearly not just ‘friends.’—

Victoria froze for a moment, her thoughts racing. —Lando?— she repeated, her tone less sure now. —No... Amelie wouldn’t...—

—Oh, she would,— Julie interrupted gently. —Believe me, I’m not blind. The way they look at each other... It’s pretty obvious. And you know, I’ve been in this game long enough to know when two people are... more than just friends.—

Victoria's mind immediately went to the past. She remembered the months in 2021 when Amelie and Lando had been inseparable—until they weren’t. The sudden distance between them, the painful quiet. She had watched Amelie struggle with it, but she hadn’t known the full details.

—They were so close back then,— Victoria murmured. —I never understood what happened. I mean, I knew something went wrong, but Amelie never told me.—

Julie gave a little laugh. —Well, I have my suspicions about that, but that’s not the point. What matters is that now, with her back in London, I’ve noticed how they’ve been around each other. She came home from Finland, didn’t she? And that’s when I saw him again. Lando was with her then too, wasn’t he?—

Victoria stiffened slightly. —They were in Finland together?—

—Indeed,— Julie nodded. —I think it’s safe to say that they’ve rekindled their relationship, at least in a more serious way than they’re letting on.—

A silence settled over the room, the weight of Julie’s words hanging between them. Victoria stared into her teacup, her fingers gripping it tighter than she intended. She thought about Amelie, the daughter she had struggled to connect with in the past. Their relationship had gotten better in recent years, but this... this was different. She didn’t know what to think.

—So what now?— Victoria asked, her voice low, though there was no anger behind it, just an undercurrent of concern. —Do I just pretend I I don't know anything? Or do I... confront her?—

Julie leaned back in her chair, a smile tugging at her lips. —Oh, darling, you’ve always been the sensible one. But sometimes, we have to let them make their own choices. You know how Amelie is. She’ll tell you when she’s ready, and if she’s with Lando again, well, it’s not our job to figure it out. Just let it happen in its own time.—

Victoria nodded slowly. —You’re right. I suppose I can’t protect her forever. Especially now, with everything that’s happened before. But I don’t want her hurt again.—

Victoria set the teacup down, her gaze drifting to the window as she let out a sigh. Her thoughts were scattered, torn between the past and present, between understanding her daughter’s choices and her own desires for clarity.

As Victoria’s mind swirled, the sound of footsteps from the hallway snapped her from her thoughts. She turned toward the door just as it opened, revealing Amelie and Lando. The couple was clearly caught off guard to find Victoria and Julie still awake in the kitchen.

Amelie froze in the doorway, her hand instinctively clutching Lando’s arm. Lando, ever the awkward one when caught in moments like these, gave a nervous smile. His heart sank when he saw the look on Victoria’s face—half expectant, half amused.

—Oh, uh... hey, Mum,— Amelie said, trying to sound casual, though her eyes darted nervously to her grandmother and mother. —I didn’t know you two were still up.—

Victoria didn’t immediately respond. She just looked at Amelie, then Lando, her expression unreadable. Julie, on the other hand, gave them a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

—You two didn’t think I’d be awake, did you?— Julie asked with a teasing tone. —Caught red-handed.—

Amelie’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly looked away. Lando, on the other hand, felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He had spent enough time with Amelie’s family to know that things were rarely straightforward when it came to relationships.

Victoria, after a beat, set her teacup down and looked directly at Amelie. —You’re back from your walk already?— she asked, her voice calm but stern. —And here I was, thinking you were getting some fresh air by yourself.—

Amelie let out a nervous laugh, stepping further into the room. —Yeah, well… I, uh, bumped into Lan here,— she gestured toward Lando, who gave a half-hearted shrug.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the story. —Bumped into him, huh? In the middle of London, at this hour? And with him walking you right back in here? You two are full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?— Her tone was casual, but there was a distinct edge to it, one that made Amelie feel the weight of her mother’s scrutiny.

Amelie was about to respond, but Lando cut in, his voice a bit too loud in the quiet of the room. —Well, you know, we were just out for a walk. Nothing special.— His nervous laugh did nothing to help his case.

Julie’s eyes twinkled as she shot Amelie a look, her voice dripping with humor. —Oh, I’m sure. I mean, it's perfectly normal to be out walking with your “friend” at this hour. But we’re all friends here, aren’t we?— Her emphasis on the word “friend” was impossible to miss.

Amelie’s heart skipped a beat, her face flushing crimson. She knew her grandmother’s teasing tone all too well, but this felt different. She wanted to laugh it off, but something in her chest told her to stay quiet for a moment.

Victoria’s gaze was now fixed on Amelie, her tone shifting to one that was more serious. —I thought you were going to take it easy for a bit, Amelie. You know how much I worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit... distracted lately.—

Amelie’s stomach churned, and she quickly glanced at Lando. She could feel the tension growing. Lando, his usual confidence fading, shifted uncomfortably beside her. He could sense where this conversation was headed, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. Not like this. Not with Amelie caught between her family’s expectations and the weight of their secret relationship.

Amelie cleared her throat, forcing herself to smile, though it was weak. —Mum, it’s really nothing to worry about. It’s just... Lando and I... we’re... we’re just hanging out. You know, as friends. Nothing serious.—

Lando’s heart dropped at her words. It wasn’t like he was expecting her to announce everything to her family right here and now, but hearing her dismiss their connection like that hurt. He shifted again, his hands in his pockets, his gaze flicking to the floor. He tried to swallow the insecurity creeping up, but it wasn’t working. He’d been here before—hurting her without meaning to, and now it felt like the tables were turning.

Julie, sensing the tension, decided to add some levity to the situation, though it didn’t really ease the air. —You two make a cute couple, though, don’t you think, Victoria? Amelie and Lando? What do you reckon?—

Victoria, despite her best attempt at appearing unaffected, gave a small smile. —They do seem to be quite close again, don’t they? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this. Though, Amelie, I’m not sure I believe you. If you’re just “hanging out,” why did I catch you two sneaking around so... cozy with each other?—

Amelie winced. She hadn’t expected it to be this hard, and now, with Lando standing there silently, looking like a lost puppy, it felt worse. She wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.

—Mum, please. I don’t want to talk about this right now. It's complicated.— Her voice shook slightly as she tried to dismiss the conversation.

Lando finally spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. —Maybe it’s better if I just go...— He looked at Amelie, his words laced with uncertainty. He could feel the distance growing between them in that moment.

Amelie, caught in the middle of everything, felt the stab of guilt in her chest. She didn’t want to hurt him, but this situation was spiraling, and she had no idea how to make it stop.

—No, Lando, please stay. It’s just...— Amelie paused, her voice faltering. —It’s just that I don’t know how to tell them about us yet. I’m scared of what they’ll think, okay?—

Lando’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze. —Scared of what? That we’re not “just friends”?— He hated the way his voice sounded, bitter with the hurt he didn’t want to admit. He didn’t want to push her, but he was tired of feeling like a secret.

Amelie opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her mind was racing. She wanted to tell her mom the truth, tell her how much Lando meant to her now, how much things had changed since their past. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet. Not when there were so many questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she turned to Lando, her voice barely above a whisper. —I think you should go. It’s… it’s better this way. You should leave now.—

Lando’s heart sank at her words. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but hearing her say it like that hit harder than he’d imagined. He gave a small nod, a forced smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He walked past her and toward the door, but not before he glanced back at Amelie. She avoided his gaze, focusing on the floor.

He left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving an emptiness in the room that was almost tangible.

Amelie didn’t move for a long moment, standing there in silence. The air felt thick with unspoken tension. Finally, she sank into a chair at the kitchen table, her hands gripping the edge as if she needed something solid to hold onto.

Victoria watched her carefully, her expression softening, but still filled with that unshakeable concern. She took a deep breath and walked over to her daughter, sitting down beside her.

—Amelie,— Victoria began gently, her voice softer now. —What is going on with you? I know you’ve been through a lot in the past, but this… I can see how much Lando means to you. I just don’t want you to get hurt again. You were so heartbroken after everything that happened between you two before, and I’m afraid it might happen again.—

Amelie’s chest tightened, the old wounds reopening at the mention of the past. She had tried so hard to bury the pain, to move forward, but hearing her mother speak about it so openly made it feel fresh again. She wanted to explain, to tell her how much Lando had changed, how much they both had grown since then, but the words wouldn’t come. Not when she was still scared.

—Mum, I don’t know what to say,— Amelie admitted, her voice shaky. —I’m just... scared. I don’t want to fall for him again, not if it means getting hurt. I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pain again. And if I tell you everything, I don’t know how Dad will react. Or Callum, or Checo. I just don’t want anyone to get involved until I figure this out.—

Victoria’s expression softened even more, and she reached out, gently placing a hand on Amelie’s. —Sweetheart, you don’t have to figure it all out by yourself. But I get it. I really do. It’s hard to let go of the fear and the past. But you can’t let that stop you from living your life. From being happy, whatever that looks like. And if Lando is part of that, then we’ll figure it out together. We’ll make sure that you’re not hurt again, okay?—

Amelie nodded, her heart feeling both heavy and lighter at the same time. She had never been the type to open up about her feelings easily, especially not when it came to love. But with her mother sitting beside her, offering support, she couldn’t help but feel a little less alone.

—Thank you,— Amelie whispered, finally allowing herself to breathe. —I’m just not sure what to do next. I don’t know if I can tell anyone, not yet. It feels too soon, too complicated. But I do care about him, Mum. I really do. I just... I don’t know if it’s enough. Not yet.—

Victoria smiled gently, squeezing her daughter’s hand. —You don’t have to have all the answers right now, Amelie. You’ll know when it’s time. Just take it one step at a time. And know that no matter what happens, I’m here for you. Always.—

Amelie smiled back, though it was a little shaky. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders, knowing that her mother was there for her, no matter how messy everything felt.

As the conversation slowed down and the night stretched on, Amelie felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. The uncertainty about her relationship with Lando was still there, and the fear of repeating the mistakes of the past loomed large. But for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things might be okay. That perhaps, in time, she could figure it all out.

[muzaktomyears]

George Harrison and Paul McCartney interviewed about Bob Dylan and the Beatles by MOJO magazine in 1993, including extracts from John Lennon being interviewed about Dylan in 1979:

GEORGE HARRISON

Do you remember Dylan at The Albert Hall?

Oh yeah, I was there. I remember it a lot. First of all you had him saying, You remember this song? This is how it used to go and this is how it goes now! But the thing I remember most about it was all these people who'd never heard of folk until Bob Dylan came around and two years later they're staunch folk fans and they're walking out on him when he was playing the electric songs. Which is so stupid. But he actually played rock'n'roll before. Nobody knew that at the time, but Bob had been in Bobby Vee's band as the piano player and he'd played rock'n'roll. And then he became Bob Dylan the Folk Singer so, for him, it was just returning back. And maybe The Beatles - well, not just The Beatles but the whole wave of rock'n'roll that happened again in the '60s - spurred him on into wanting to get back into the electric guitar.

Was there a degree of Beatles/Dylan mutual envy at that time?

Well, he got a little bit of pleasure out of us and we got a lot of pleasure out of him. But you know everybody starts out being slightly grungey, rebels against the world, we were like that too. You know the famous Beatles story: we cleaned up our act a bit because Brian Epstein could get us more work if we had suits. By the time Bob came along it was like, Yeah, we all want to be more funky again, and please put a little more balls into the lyric of the song. There's a funny thing that I don't think anybody else has noticed and that is when John wrote Norwegian Wood, it was obviously a very Bob Dylan song, and right after that Bob's album came out and it had a song called 4th Time Around. You want to check out the tune of that - it's the same song going round and round.

You were very consciously listening to each other?

Well I can't speak for him but we were listening. I think it was his second album we heard first in February or January of '64 and we were in Paris at The Olympia Theatre and we got a copy of Freewheelin' and we just played it, just wore it out. The content of the song lyrics and just the attitude - it was just incredibly original and wonderful, you know.

Did you meet him in '66?

I met him every time. I felt a bit sad for him because he was a bit wasted at that time. He'd been on a world tour and he looked like he'd been on a world tour. He looked like he needed a rest and that was the time he went back home and fell off his bike and almost broke his neck. So...

PAUL MCCARTNEY

What sort of shape was he in? He was just winding up a world tour...

He was pretty wasted. There were a couple of times I went to hotels - one was the Mayfair, I can't remember the other one. But he didn't appear much more wasted than anyone else - you know, we kept up with him! We all sort of lay around together; it wasn't the kind of scene where you had to say anything enlightening.

So it was pretty much Dylan holding court.

Oh it was, very much. It was a little bit An Audience with Dylan in those days: you went round to the Mayfair Hotel and waited in an outer room, while Bob was, you know, in the other room, in the bedroom, and we were getting ushered in one by one. I know Keith was there. And Brian.

Didn't you feel you both had to perform?

No, not really. I was just quite happy to pay homage. The only trouble really was that occasionally people would come out and say, you know, Bob's taking a nap or make terrible excuses, and I'd say, It's OK man, I understand, he'd out of it, you know. And they were a bit guarding, like the Pope's men at The Vatican. He can't see you just now...

Didn't he come round and play you an acetate of Blonde On Blonde? Or you played him an acetate of Revolver?

No, I played him some stuff off Pepper later. And I'd brought it on acetate or a tape of Pepper...

It must have been Revolver. This was '66.

I'm pretty sure it was Pepper 'cos I remember him saying, Oh I get it, you don't want to be cute any more. And I was saying, Yeah, that's it. We really admired him. I'd known his stuff as long as I'd known Ray Charles's, so he was a big hero of ours. He was very keen on I Wanna Hold Your hand - he'd thought the middle eight, "I can't hide, I can't hide" was "I get high, I get high" and was rather amused by that. And we were amused that he was amused. Then we eventually met him in New York, one of the big hotels there, he came round with his road manager who was a nice bloke. Al Aronowitz was there, a kind of mate of ours, Dylan, his road manager and a few other people showed up. And they brought along with some illegal substances of which we partook and had... quite a wild night.

What happened?

Well, I was wandering around looking for a pencil because I discovered the meaning of life that evening and I wanted to get it down on a bit of paper. And I went into a little room and wrote it all down, 'cos I figured that, coming from Liverpool, this was all very exotic and i had to let my ordinary people know, you know, what this was all about: like if you find the meaning of life you've got to kind of put it about! Mal handed me the little bit of paper the next morning after the party and on it was written, in very scrawly handwriting: THERE ARE SEVEN LEVELS. Till ten we'd been sort of hard scotch and coke men. It sort of changed that evening.

In '66 it seemed as though you almost wanted to change places: Dylan was the mystic folk prophet who wanted to be a pop star; The Beatles were the pop stars who wanted to go underground. Was there a kind of mutual envy?

None whatsoever, no. I think it was mutual admiration, certainly from our side there was admiration. I mean to this day... I just met him at the airport about a year ago and he just kind of shambles up and says, Hey Paul, y'alright man, and we give each other a big hug. I was in Heathrow and he was. He had an anorak on and had the hood pulled up. He was really like a kind of bagman, you know. And he just kind of shambled up to me, Hey Paul, alright man.

He seemed very attracted at that time by the idea of being a pop star, the suits, the screaming women...

Well I think he found something attractive about that. I don't really think it changed his stuff an awful lot. I don't know, there might have been some feeling that it was time for him to get off the street and into the hotel or something. I don't know.

That was the time when your music had the most in common, Revolver and Blonde On Blonde. You almost crossed over at that point.

Well, he influenced us and a lot of people. He influenced the Stones. Sympathy For The Devil is very Dylan, just the endless lyrics. I remember us being round at John's house at Weybridge, when I went round to write once, and he'd just got Like A Rolling Stone and we put it on and it seemed to go on and on forever. It was just beautiful. I don't know if he aspired to that showbiz thing you were saying but he showed us all that it was possible to go a little further. But the nice thing about Dylan for me was that he brought back poetry. We'd come from that student scene, 'cos we'd all started as students, you know - I was a kind of sixth form layabout, John was at the art school next door - and we'd started out with things rather like poetry readings in Liverpool. Hamburg was a student scene. There were kids in Hamburg who called themselves The Exies - The Existentialists - and wore a lot of black; Astrid and Jorgen and Klaus, they figured they were Exies. That was one of the sad things about The Beatles: we got so huge that that kind of student thing got cut short, but Dylan reintroduced that into all our lives. I always thought of Dylan as a poet first - him and Allen Ginsberg holding up signs, all very hand-held camera from New York, all very enigmatic.

You were never in awe of each other?

Oh he wasn't in awe of us. He just liked "I get high." As the guy who introduced us to smoking dope he just thought it was hilarious! I always like those sort of things, it's like Jake Riviera thinking "living is easy with eyes closed" was "living is easy with nice clothes". They're always better, those adaptations. But John was probably the most influenced. And George is one of those guys who can quote all Dylan's lyrics. There's always a lyric for an apt situation: George goes, Oh well! Remember! The pumps don't work 'cos the vandals took the handles! George knows the whole works of Dylan. But I think John was the most influenced in the vocal style. Certainly You've Got To Hide Your Love Away is a direct Dylan copy, it's like an impression of Dylan, Yeeew've got to hayed... that lerv ay-wayyy. Just saying ay-wayyy, rather than away...

Did John ever mention that car ride with Dylan which was filmed for Eat The Document?

Mmm?

You know, when the two of them got driven around Hyde Park with Pennebaker filming them?

Well he might have but not at length. We didn't really chat about that too much. I know he was very keen on Dylan.

There's a great bit in the film, when he's in the car with Dylan and it's five in the morning, and Dylan's drunk and completely out of it and threatening to throw up and John says: Do you suffer from sore eyes, groovy forehead or curly hair? Take Zimdon!

Zimdon! Ha ha ha. Zimdon! Well that's nice stuff, but he turned on the whole Zimmerman bit and made a lot of fun of Bob later.

When do you mean?

Later, you know. I got a feeling...

He recorded those Dylan parodies in the '70s, didn't he? [There are tapes of three of them - Serve Yourself, an acid response to Dylan's You've Got To Serve Somebody, the equally self-explanatory Mama Take This Make-Up Offa Me, and a spontaneous moulding of the live TV news into Stuck Inside of Lexicon With The Roget's Thesaurus Blues Again.]

He did. He always had a go at people, John. That was really part of his charm. He was ballsy enough to have a go at you, you know, then he'd lower his little glasses, look at you over the top of them and say, It's only me! John was the mouth. He was a lovely boy but he did shoot his mouth off. Quite often.

Why did he have a go at Bob?

I think he was quite disappointed that his name wasn't Dylan. Finding out that it was a Jewish name that he'd changed I think he felt a bit betrayed. I remember him making quite a stink about that.

But he must have known that from the start.

I'm not sure we did. No. I think we sort of found all that out later. He had a go at everyone then. Including, probably most of all himself. That's who the real go was at. You know, to understand John you had to sort of look at his past. The father leaving home when he was three. Being brought up by his aunt. And his mother, you know. It's extraordinary he made it to the age he made it to. So John had a mighty chip on his shoulder - we all did to some extent. John could say to you, Fuck off yer twat. Then he'd just go, Only kidding! You had to accept that he could swing both ways.

Why did he feel so let down by Dylan?

He loved Dylan so much. He did feel a little let down. John was like that. John like gurus. John was always looking for a guru. When he introduced Magic Alex who was just some Greek guy who was a bit of an expert in electronics. And I remember John coming round to my house and saying (mystic voice) This is my new guru, Magic Alex. And you had to sort of smile a little and go, OK well that's cool, Wow, knowing that this may not last. But... John had found a guru.

Was it the same with Dylan? You know, he wanted to sit at his feet?

Yeah. I think he did worship Dylan to some degree. He was certainly the big one. There was Elvis before that... but Elvis was a different kettle of fish. Elvis was going to shop us on the Nixon Tapes. That's another story...

I want to hear it!

You know those Nixon Tapes that he kept rolling all the time? There's a set of tapes were Elvis is trying to shop The Beatles. (Courteous Southern accent) "You know, Sir, They're very un-American! I believe they smoke drugs!" Elvis! Telling Nixon! He's trying to get made a marshal, trying to get made a US marshal.

Have you heard this tape?

No, I've just seen a transcript of it. It's quite wild. 'Cos Elvis is ryng to shop us. No doubt about it. Definite bad move, El!

That's hysterical!

It is, it's wild! You've got to laugh. But as I say, I think to John these people were great heroes and he found out a little later they were only human. Think about the Maharishi. We all went off with this guru and John got very let down and wrote Sexy Sadie. He was always doing that, he was always having an idol and seeing it knocked down. If you think about it it's probably very symbolic of his whole life, the father figure. Yoko in a way was a father figure. Hate to say it. But John always required that. Complex boy. He was a lovely boy but, perhaps, you know... idols with feet of clay. John always wanted people to be magic and, you know, we're all human.

What did he see in Dylan?

Inspiration, maybe. I don't know. Maybe that he allowed us to go further. He allowed the Stones to go further, then we did Pepper and we allowed everyone else to go further, It was like boots walking... we'd take a step, Dylan'd take a step, Stones'd take a step, we'd take another step, John'd take a step. I'd take a step, I'd do Why Don't We Do It In The Road?, John'd go, Fuck, I wish I'd written that...

Which of John's songs would you like to have written?

John's? Oh... if forced on the point I'd have to say, Help, Imagine, Strawberry Fields. But it doesn't matter, all in all, here we are, born, die, and on the way stuff happens. John did some magic stuff, Dylan did, Stones did, all of us have from time to time. I remember Dylan defending one of his loose vocals - some critic somewhere - by saying, (nasal whine) "Listen man there's an A in there somewhere! It goes from A flat to B flat but it goes through an A. Every note's in tune!" You know, there is an A in the middle of it somewhere but he just chooses to go around it. Great! Rules are meant to be broken.

So do you think he's deliberately 'deconstructing the myth'? How many opportunities has he had to reach a larger audience - Farm Aid, he was the final act of Live Aid, The 30 Year Tribute concert? The last two were absolutely appalling.

I think he does it on purpose, you know. He does it on purpose. I know someone played with him in one of his latest bands - G.E. Smith, New York guy - and I said, How is it, man? And he said Oh great! He said, We'd come up to him after a show and say, Fantastic man, Tambourine Man went down so beautifully, and then he wouldn't do it for two weeks! But I can see that...

Keep a good head and always carry a light bulb!

Yeah, it was nice, all that stuff. But the only pity really is that it's all closed up, like Moses passing through the waters, the Red Sea. We all got through it all, it tended to close up when everyone's got through it. Now it's re-opening a little bit. The modern scene's getting a little crazier again, but it's all a little bit corporate now. Very corporate. Sickeningly so. And you know it wasn't that way before. And he was one of the catalysts in the whole movement.

JOHN LENNON

Extracts from interviews broadcast in 1979 on New York's 1027WENW radio in The Lost Lennon Tapes (interviews by Jonathan Cott, David Shepp and Jann Wenner).

You first heard Dylan on a visit to Paris in 1963?

I think that was the first time I heard him at all. I think Paul got the record (Freewheelin') from a French DJ. We were doing a radio thing there and the guy had the record in the studio and we took it back to the hotel and (gauche accent) fell in luv, like!

Do you still see Dylan as a primary influence on your writing?

No, no. I see him as another poet, you know, or as competition. Just read my books which were written before I'd heard of Dylan or read Dylan or even heard of anybody. It's the same, you know. I didn't come after Elvis and Dylan, I've been around always. But it I see or meet a great artist, I love 'em, you know. I just love 'em. I go fanatical about them - for a short period. And then I get over it! And it they wear green socks, I'm liable to wear green socks for a period, you know.

You've Got To Hide Your Love Away and I'm A Loser?

Yeah, that's me in my Dylan period, 'cos that's got the word 'clown' in it. I always objected to the word 'clown' - or clown image that Bowie was using 'cos that was always artsy-fartsy - but Dylan had used it so I thought it was all right and it rhymed with whatever I was doing. So that was my Dylan period.

So you were saying, If Dylan can go it I can do it?

No, I'm just influenced by whatever's going on. It's the same as if Elvis can do it, I can do it. If the Everly Brothers can do it, me and Paul can do it. If Goffin and King can do it, Paul and I can do it. If Buddy Holly can do it, I can do it. Whatever it is, I can do it!

How would you characterise your relationship with Dylan?

Whenever we used to meet it was always under the most nerve-wracking circumstances. And I know I was always uptight, and I know Bobby was. And people like Al Aronowitz would try and bring us together. And we were together and we'd spend some time but I always used to be too paranoid or I'd be aggressive or something and vice versa. He'd come to my house - can you imagine it? This bourgeois home life I was leading? - and I used to go to his hotel. And I loved him, you know, because he wrote beautiful stuff. I used to love those so-called protest things. I loved the sound of him. I didn't have to listen to his words. He used to come with his acetates and say, Listen to this John, did you hear the words? And I'd say, It doesn't matter, you know, the sound if what counts, the overall thing. You don't have to hear what Bob Dylan says, you just have to hear the way he says it. Like, the medium it the message.

Your appearance in Eat The Document was a little edgy.

I've never seen it! I'm in it, you know! Frightened as hell, you know! I was always so paranoid. He said, I want you to be in this film and I thought, Why? What? He's going to put me down! It's gonna be... you know and I went all through this terrible thing. So in the film I'm just blabbin' off, just commenting all the time like you do when you're very high and stoned. But it was his scene, you know, that was the problem for me. It was his movie. I was on his territory. That's why I was nervous, you know. I was on his session.

MOJO (November 1993)

[sonicboomrevisited]

THE WEEKLY CHECK-IN

Issue 2 Updates:

7/22 Pages have been fully inked

I know, I know--only one page in a week? Pick up the slack, Multi! Don't worry; it's because I've been working on something special for Christmas ;)

Page 8 is in the inking phase. My main goal is to get the first half of the comic (pages 1-11) all finished before Christmas. That way I can work on the later half in January to be ready for February!

Issue 1 Page 16 WIPS:

Let's take a step a few pages forward from last week to look at a page that didn't change that much from beginning to end!

The Initial Sketch: The fun thing about this page, I would think, is seeing how ridiculous some of my sketched out faces for intense moments are! Originally Amy was going to yell at Sticks along with Tails. I believe the dialogue she had was a bit repetitive and I had wanted to give Tails some time to shine since he hadn't gotten much in the comic thus far. You can also see Sticks was originally meant to crash face first into something akin to a fruit stand. But then I remembered the ice cream cart and that made it into the final page instead!

Final Ink: Again, I wish I saved the in between sketches, but oh well. You can see here I have the electricity on Sonic colored blue. I do that so its visually distinct from everything else I need to color and so I can get a sense of how it is going to glow. You may also notice there's some extra effects in panel 2 that were removed in the final. I thought I would need them originally to emphasize what was happening, but color made the panel pop enough that it wasn't really needed. Panel 2 is also one of the only times I phoned a friend to help me with the art. I was struggling to visualize how the skin would pull as Sticks yanked on Sonic's ear pieces. I remember him telling me this final design might be a bit too grotesque for a PG comic once colored, but I thought it was too cool to leave out XD

Color: And here we are! I'm sure you guys will appreciate a look at panel 2 without text. Again, it was the hardest panel to get right out of this whole page! Shout out to Sticks, though, for being the easiest. She's such a fun character to draw.

Let me know what WIPS from Issue 1 you'd like to see next and please look forward to Christmas! :)

[royal-ruin]

f1 fanfic recs charles/carlos (charlos) part 4

other f1 fic rec lists here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise

in honor of carlos' win in the ausgp and his appendix removal (and his last year at ferrari, ignore me sobbing in the background), here are some of my fav fics of them.

if all of them are starred that just means they're all amazing.

i'll make you laugh by venerat (~7k)

[“You are cute,” says Carlos, waving his marker in emphasis. “Obviously. I am always saying this.”

“I am not cute.” Charles blinks at him. “When are you saying I am cute?”]

literally so adorable.

*what we felt by venerat (~14k)

[Imprinted, Charles should say, shocked. I hope he is alright. He should say that.

“My god,” he says instead. “On who?”]

so creative and amazing. def check out this author for more of other pairings, i know they have a bunch of hot smutty one-shots if you're into that.

*sweet tea in the summer by bloodmoonforme (~10k)

[Sometimes, when they first arrive at the circuit for a weekend, Charles will look decidedly paler, a little drawn. Then, he'll show up for FP1 on Friday seemingly much better all of the sudden, eyes unnaturally bright and cheeks red - that's how to tell how long it has been since he last drank.

Not that Carlos notices. Or keeps track of it, for that matter.

Except he does.]

Or the one where Charles is a vampire and Carlos struggles.

i don't remember this unfortunately, but i do remember loving it.

*the actor says he hates himself by bloodmoonforme (~5k)

[“You okay, mate?” Carlos asks, pitching his voice a bit louder in order to be heard over the music.

Charles doesn’t answer. Slowly, Carlos realizes that the way Charles is staring is one that he recognizes. It’s the same way he looks while he’s out racing, the same one he wears in the simulator. It’s a look of total focus. There’s something Charles wants and means to have.]

tags say that there's cheating so if you don't like that, don't read.

*dice che ti ama (ma lo sai che mente) by choripan (~3k)

[But Charles smiled, dimples out and about, back against the wall of Carlos’ driver’s room. Like he knew he wasn’t in danger.

Like he hadn’t entered a lions’ den looking like a three course meal.

(Like he knew Carlos was all bark and no bite, and toying with the metaphorical rubber band —stretch, stretch, stretching—wouldn’t ever make it snap into his straight nose.)]

kinda like a carlos-focused relationship study. it lowkey altered my brain chemistry for some reason

punctuated all wrong by Cloudcollector (~8k)

Prompt: "I don’t know if someone else agrees with me but I’m a sucker for the whole person A falls in love with person B but they think they don’t deserve person B’s love trope and I’d love to see how it would play out with charlos (not saying who’s person A and who person B, even though that should be pretty obvious)"

*the trials of 2022 by chiliconcarlos (~34k)

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

Friday is Just the Beginning by nottonyharrison (~3k)

On a Thursday in December, Caco had come to him with a proposal. A PDF attached to an email, emblazoned with the garish red Netflix logo, and consisting of a three paragraph, succinct concept that involved winter training, the mountains, and Carlos timing his schedule to overlap with Charles’ for a week.

On a Friday in January, he’s sitting in a private sauna long after the cameras have been packed away for the night, with Charles right next to him.

this is basically plot w porn, with a lot of carlos inner monologue which i love so enjoy!

Don't Do This To Me by pastrnaks_sainz (~2k)

[Carlos hands shake as he stares at his phone screen. The email from Caco is displayed and the brightness is turned all the way up. Like he’s being taunted. The big bold letters in the subject line might as well be saying ‘NOBODY WANTS YOU’ instead of ‘New Opportunities Ahead’.]

fair warning, one of the tags is hurt no comfort.

Loose Lips Sink Ships by kxleida (~2k)

Carlos finds out he's leaving Ferrari. Charles finds him in his hotel room, beer bottles scattered all across. They both know it's not fair.

A bit of hurt/comfort surrounding Charles, Carlos, and the Ferrari announcement for the F1 2024 silly season.

this isn't everything you are by shadil (~2k)

The news hit him again where he least expects it.

a prayer for which no words exist by transbrucewayne (~3k)

Charles has to assume Carlos knows by now; they should’ve told him. He doesn’t know how long they took to tell Sebastian, but it had been almost inevitable for him. He walked into the 2020 season with an air of resignation. With Carlos…everyone thought he was going to get another year, at least. Charles thought he was going to get another year. Then, Carlos would move to Audi, to the surprise of approximately no one, and the two of them would part, and Charles would spend the rest of his career smiling at him across the room, fist bumping him in press conferences, and never touching him more than the others deemed appropriate.

i know better (but you're still around) by shadil (~2k)

Sometimes, Carlos dreams about María.

He was his (but also he was not) by f1amboyant (~2k)

[Charles crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you leaving?” he asked, no bullshit, staring straight at Carlos, peering into his soul.]

Shadowhunters AU

and the world was gone by Bluejay141519 (~12k)

It’s not entirely unfounded, having something like this happen. Charles knows of various stories of the past, where different drivers’ energies don’t mix well and it causes chaos. He’s even heard of magic being used to sabotage in F1.

Charles always thought these were just stories, until he got his seat.

tbh it's not completely relationship focused, but it's still amazing.

[jfleamont]

Hey for your jily muse, out of order <3

Okay this is unforgivable, I know. You sent this prompt over two months ago. TWO. This ask has been sitting in my inbox since the 18th of January, so you probably won't even remember sending this but I promise you I've been thinking about it constantly and waiting to have free time to work on it and I have this tendency to leave things unfinished so this is me working through that as well lol

Without further ado, here it is ❤️

Out of Order - 744 words

Evans is in the boys' bathroom. She's in the boys' bathroom and she's crying.

One of her hands is gripping the sink, while the other fruitlessly wipes the tears that keep escaping.

She hasn't noticed his arrival, and Sirius doesn't bother clearing his throat. “I'm sure there's a perfectly logical reason for this.”

She makes a startled noise and turns to face him, her expression a mixture of anger and sadness. It's comical, really, so Sirius laughs.

“There is,” she mutters as she wipes her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. Her voice lacks the edge she usually aims at him— and at James, too, though Sirius can't help but notice a slight difference there.

He walks towards her and hands her his monogrammed tissue - he's never used it for this purpose specifically, but it has proved to be useful during the occasional prank or after a rough full moon - which she grabs immediately. She doesn't thank him, but he doesn't expect her to.

“Ah well, that's all I needed to know. It's not like you're invading my personal space or something.”

She lifts an eyebrow and eyes him curiously, looking more like her usual self. “I'm sorry, is there a plaque or an inscription that I haven't noticed? Does House Black monogram bathrooms as well as tissues?”

“Not that I'm aware of, no. Don't give my mother ideas, though, she might actually try to do that.”

She makes an attempt at a smile, but it quickly turns into a quiet sob.

“Apparently there can only be one crying girl per bathroom, and Myrtle has claimed the one across the corridor as hers so it's out of order,” she explains as she tries to regain control of her emotions, “and I thought this one was empty since everyone is heading down to watch the match.”

“You were right... for the most part. Why aren't you going then?”

“No reason,” she replies, her voice even, but she's not looking at him.

Sirius thinks he knows why. He suspects it has to do with the good luck kiss that Cornelia Kettleburn gave James at breakfast and how quickly Lily disappeared after that.

“Cool. I'm not going either. Fancy going to the Astronomy tower for a smoke?”

She looks taken aback. “I— wait, why aren't you going?”

In truth Sirius wants to go, and James is going to kill him for this, but lately he's been claiming that he no longer has feelings for Lily, and Sirius hates being lied to, so technically this is just payback.

“James got on my nerves so I'm skipping the match in protest,” he adds with a shrug and it's the truth, because it wouldn't be fair to lie. “So, are we smoking or not? Got a fag I can borrow?”

She's not an idiot: she knows this is an olive branch of sorts. Sirius can tell she's deciding whether to believe him or not; after a moment she sighs, and Sirius knows he's won.

“Haven't you got your own? Merlin, you're cheap,” she says while producing a pack of cigarettes from her satchel and handing it to him, a smirk on her face. He's glad to see that she seems to have calmed down significantly.

“I'm trying to quit so I stopped carrying them around,” he replies and grabs one, putting it in the breast pocket of his vest.

“Looks like it's working,” she notes as she fixes her appearance in front of the mirror and readies herself to leave the room.

“Absolutely.”

“Why are you mad at Potter anyway? Thought you two were inseparable,” she asks as she walks towards the door, a step ahead of him so that he can't see her face.

“Can't tell you, it's a secret.”

She huffs. “You lot are starting to sound ridiculous with all these secrets,” she whips her head towards him, her disapproval clear on her face, though he's almost certain this is just another way of disguising her curiosity. “Is this little group of yours a cult or something?”

“It's a counterculture,” he explains as he exits the bathroom, “how else are we going to beat those bigoted dickheads? The only way to fight a cult is with another cult.”

He's just joking, but the idea doesn't sound half bad to his ears.

Apparently Lily disagrees, because she snorts. Loudly. “Not sure about that logic but you do you, I guess.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“Anytime, Black.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

What were the highlights of the Royal tour to Australia and Samoa so far for you?

I know Charles is a trooper, but he was looking a little faded by Samoa. I know it's to be expected considering his age and medical condition. I do admire his stamina though and he seems buoyed by the general reception! Have you noticed a changing PR line addressing this? What are some of the considerations in PR now for Charles' team?

So first, remember, I'm not a typical royal watcher in that I don't do the day to day. And second, I've been pretty offline these days (it's the politics and the politicking for the election...I'm so over it and I"m not even in a swing state!) so there's a lot I've missed.

Anyway, getting to the questions...as best as I can...my awareness of Charles's trip was just what I saw in Chris Jackson's and the BRF's Instagram...which is that there were some big rainstorms, everyone was happy to see Charles and Camilla, and they were happy to be there as well.

From the photos I did see, I got the sense that Charles missed (misses?) engaging with the public and being with them. But I'm not sure if that "he misses people" is due to his role as The King where he has more head of state/'room where it happens' duties than the charity work and community outreach he spent most of his life doing or if it's due to the changes he/his team had to put in place for his treatment. From a couple of the Samoa photos, I also got a feeling like maybe Charles was missing his mother, like maybe her legacy in the Commonwealth and at CHOGM was something he was thinking about or reflecting on - it's possible we could even be talking about the same photos! Where you thought he looked faded (which is absolutely 100% possible because those very long flights + the most "on" he's been since his diagnosis and treatment beginning in January), perhaps that's when I thought he seemed to be...longing, I guess? Wistful?

I'm not sure about the PR, because of how offline I've been (I'll definitely circle back to this in a couple weeks once the election is over - feel free to send me reminders if I don't pick this up again mid-November). But something I feel quite certain of is that we're probably going to see BP change their travel plans, like no more long journeys and more rest days. For instance - thinking specifically to this trip, a do-over plan might see Charles having a rest weekend in Singapore instead of a "pick up Camilla and change planes" layover, then flying onwards to Australia, having the scheduled rest day there to acclimate, then doing his Aussie itinerary, and a partial rest day before flying on to Samoa.

(I don't think there's anything BP can do about protestors, like the one Senator. Perhaps they can be more inclusive in any prepared remarks to address something like that in the future but then if you plan for protest and it doesn't happen, do you still say that in your speech? I don't know. I think that in part, the BRF just needs to accept that people are going to be more outspoken and direct about their feelings about the monarchy and they need to have...not a script but some kind of talking point to be able to address or respond to it.)

I also think the walkabouts and the public engagements did remind Charles and the BP team that there's a kind of magic that happens when the public interacts with the BRF. It feels very much like there was some trepidation or nerves about how Charles would do with the Aussie public, the same way there were nerves about how the British public would receive King Charles on September 9, 2022 (which reminded me quite a bit of the nerves about how the public would receive Queen Elizabeth in September 1997 on her return to BP). So I think there's a good chance we might see those kinds of community interaction put back into Charles's schedule once he's properly recovered and has the OK from his medical team.

PR-wise, I think the immediate focus for Charles and his team will be a need to address the limitations on travel. There's no way Charles can match The Queen's pace when she was 75, or even 85, so I feel like he's going to rely more on the Edinburghs and the Waleses to do the long-distance traveling (the latter obviously when Kate is back to full strength and performance). It needs a spin, but how do they spin that? Will it be barbs towards William a la "The Prince of Wales needs to become a better statesman"? Will it be a promotion for the Edinburghs a la "trusted confidants and ambassadors"? (I don't include Anne here because all signs point to her slowing down, whether that's by choice or by medical directive following her concussion and hospitalization, I don't know.)

Speaking only for myself, I think if Charles and his team went back to doing virtual events - for example, a diary that's 1/4 virtual engagements, 1/4 in-person engagements, 1/4 head-of-state work, 1/4 rest - they'll be able to strike a nice balance that gives Charles the ability to interact more with the public, which really does seem to energize and invigorate him. And I think picking up a virtual program again will also help with the outreach to the Commonwealth and the realms, integrating those charities and those peoples into more of the daily royal agenda will strengthen those bonds, vs interacting with them only for CHOGM or foreign tours.

(I would also love to see Charles and Camilla do train tours, like William and Kate did in December 2020. I think that would be a fantastic way for them to get out and see people/have those community interactions and being able to relax and rest on the royal train between stops and overnight.)

I think I've lost the plot here. I'll end with this: no matter how you consider the tour/visits went, no matter what your perspective was, probably the one thing that's very clear is that Charles and BP will be reevaluating how they plan his work. They did the best they could with the information they had and what they knew about Charles's condition, and it probably ended up being a little too ambitious.

[nordschleifes]

chapter one — likes y cicatrices

➝ 2024 looks to be charlie's year, both on and off the track. hoping for an even better season than the previous one, she is certain that fernando's third title is within reach. however, it also brings thoughts about which future she wants with her boyfriend.

➝ word count: 3,4k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author's note: finally, the second part of charlie and fernando's story is now available for you all. updates will be released regularly, with the next one expected in november, as i’ll be at Interlagos at the end of this month. i hope you enjoy it, and by the way, happy birthday, charlie!

As she stood in the entranceway to the Aston Martin F1 factory, Charlie Whitlam couldn’t shake the strange feeling she had — it almost felt like her first day there. She flexed her fingers, hands jammed into the pockets of her black coat, trying to keep warm in the January breeze filtering into the building’s vestibule. She bit her lip nervously, trying to tell herself there was no reason to be so nervous — she’d been with the team for three years now, that was just another day in the office. 

But she was, mostly because of the man next to her, typing something quickly on his phone before putting it in the pocket of his green jacket

— They're coming — Jimmy said, as he picked up the camera hanging around his neck — You remember what you need to do, right? ?

— Greet Fernando and walk down the corridor next to him, right? — Charlie replied flatly, her eyes glued to the factory's entrance door.

— Well, yeah, but try to make it look natural. People will notice if it looks too staged, you know? 

— I'll greet him the way I always do.

— By kissing him on the mouth?  — Jimmy said, making her snort.

After the two weeks she had spent in Oviedo with Fernando, Charlie returned to the factory only to discover that her and Fernando’s relationship had become the topic of most of the workplace gossip. Articles in tabloids and on F1-related news blogs about her and Fernando,, as well as the picture that Fernando had posted of her on Instagram, graced the screens of almost every computer and smartphone at the Technology Center. 

When she returned to work following the Christmas holiday, she noticed that her colleagues treated her in a markedly different way, especially when talking to her one-on-one, almost as if they were trying to hold back asking her about her and Fernando’s relationship.  

It was irritating, to say the least.

— What, you really think I would kiss a driver on the mouth?

— You already do, don't you? — Jimmy retorted, cocking an eyebrow.

— I mean, sure, but not in a PR video. 

—  It’s not like it would be that weird. We all knew.

Charlie shot the team’s art director a glare.

— What do you mean, ‘we all knew’?

The man smiled. 

— Okay, at least the marketing department knew.

— How on Earth would you have known? 

— Because we saw all the photos I took of the two of you  last year. In fact, I saved some really great ones for TikTok…

— You’re not going to turn my relationship into material for a TikTok, or whatever. — Charlie said, bluntly — I'm here to win races, not to be the subject of some F1 romance story… I’m not some lovelorn idiot. 

— Sorry, I just see what the camera sees, Charlie — he said, causing Charlie to glare at him  — And there's no point in looking at me like that, it's true! You two look like two idiots in love…

Charlie clenched her jaw and turned her attention back to the door, feeling a bit uncomfortable. It wasn't like she wasn’t in love with Fernando — it was quite the opposite — but the way her coworkers’ view of her had shifted made her uncomfortable.  It was as if the person she was — the professional, the engineer — before her and Fernando’s relationship went public had been erased, leaving only Fernando Alonso’s Girlfriend in her place..

Simply being known as someone else’s girlfriend wasn’t in her plans.

— They’re here — Jimmy said, as a green Aston Martin DBX707 pulled into the drive at the entrance. He fiddled with one of the settings on his camera — Remember, make it look natural, okay?  

As she watched the passenger-side door of the SUV open, Charlie felt her stomach jump when she saw Fernando climb out. He said something to the driver as he got out, and had a bright smile on his face. It was the same smile he had before he kissed her that morning as they woke up in bed together at her flat.

As he passed into the entryway, Fernando walked towards her as if there was a gravitational pull between them. Charlie took her hands out of her pockets, preparing to greet him professionally, yet casually, as Jimmy instructed, but as he drew closer, Charlie felt like she was suddenly stuck, her mind blanking on what she was supposed to do. It was clear the driver felt the same way.

— Hi — Fernando said softly, after a few seconds.

— Hey.

There were a few more beats of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite. It was familiar, almost as if they were alone, her eyes saying everything her mouth couldn't say.

"You look stunning today".

“I wish I could have stayed with you in bed longer this morning.”

"I love you".

— That’s it? — Jimmy asked.

They both glanced at him, clearly confused.

— What do you mean? — Fernando asked

— Is this the way you greet each other?

Charlie looked at Fernando hesitantly. It was obvious they didn't greet each other like that, especially when they were alone. When Fernando arrived in England two days earlier, after nearly three weeks away from her, she had given him a… Much warmer welcome.

— Well, no — Fernando admitted — Last time, she was wearing something much more… Interesting.

Charlie’s eyes widened, and she playfully punched him in the arm.

— Fer!

— What? I didn’t lie.

— Jimmy doesn't need to know that…

— Not even that we didn’t go to the bedroom…

— No — Charlie said abruptly — That’s something else he doesn't need to know.

Jimmy couldn’t hold in his giggling, which made her a little uncomfortable. Charlie hated being seen as a joke. She didn’t mind joking around with her coworkers, but she’d always been a bit sensitive to being the butt of the joke at work, given that she was almost always the only woman on her team.

However, she swallowed down her discomfort. There was no sense in making a fuss, not right now.

— Okay, if we can't greet each other the usual way, how do you prefer, Jimmy? — Fernando asked, as he took Charlie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, as if he sensed that she could use some support. 

— Well, certainly not the way you just did — he said, looking at his camera . Then, he looked up at the two of them — Seriously, that was weird. I can’t use any of that. 

— Are you sure? — Charlie asked

— Absolutely. Now let's try this again and, please, try to be natural.

It took three more takes to get something that was convincing without being too wooden.  During the second take, Charlie stretched her hand towards Fernando, intending to shake his hand, but instead, he proceeded to envelop her in a hug. When Jimmy finally declared that he was satisfied with the footage he’d gotten, Fernando couldn’t resist the urge to give Charlie a kiss to her temple.

They walked side-by-side through the corridors of the factory toward Charlie’s office in Engineering. Mercifully, Fernando’s presence caused a bit of a buzz in the office, as her coworkers gathered around to talk to him, having not seen the driver in a few months.  

 Charlie, grateful for the distraction, sat in her cubicle, not paying attention to Fernando or the interested questions from her coworkers. She still had a job to do, after all.

She was still lost in her own thoughts as sat at her desk, her eyes eventually finding the photo of her with her grandfather, Jamie, both of them smiling with the disassembled engine on the kitchen table. Charlie had always loved that photo, because of how neatly it summed her up as a person. She loved cars and engines, a love given to her by one of her grandparents, who both treated her as someone worthy of love and affection, not a mistake or a burden.

— Oh, there’s nothing in here with me — Fernando said, jolting her thoughts back to the present.

— What?

— There’s no photos of us.. Not even on your computer.

Charlie felt her cheeks heat up as she realized that the picture of the car on her computer’s desktop wallpaper was the AMR-22, with the number 5 on its nose. She hadn't even thought about changing it, which was all the better, given that she would like to keep her relationship as private as possible.

— I didn't want to give the others a reason to talk — she murmured.

— Well, now that they're talking anyway, I think we can leave discretion aside, yes? — Fernando said, taking a pen and a green Post-It pad from her desk. He smiled as he scribbled a message on the top sheet, before peeling it up and sticking it next to the photo of her and Jamie.

The handwriting was clumsy, a little slanted, but the words were clear, the meaning filling Charlie's chest with something warm and overwhelming.

“Te quiero, tu Fer”.

— Better this way, right? — he asked, with a small smile.

— Much better — Charlie replied.

They chatted a little more before Fernando announced that he was going to the simulator.

— Good. Once you get to grips with the new car, we need all the feedback you can give us.

— Do you want a full essay, or just a summary? — he asked, sarcastically

— On a Power Point — Charlie replied. It made him laugh, which made her heart feel quivery.

— Do you think I'm George, to do that?

— Well, you two are close, I wouldn’t be surprised if he taught you how to make them — she said, grinning.

Fernando playfully squeezed her shoulder in response.

— Unfortunately, I haven't had my class with him yet.

— What a shame…

— But I'll make something, if that's what you want.

— Perfect — Charlie said, as Fernando gave her a delicate kiss on the forehead before he turned and headed towards the hallway that led to the simulator, Jimmy following diligently behind.

Not for the first time, she wondered how Fernando — or any of the drivers, really — managed to put up with the madness of having attention on them constantly. Even at their office there was a microphone or camera trained on him at all times.  Charlie had asked him about it once, mostly wondering how she would deal with the reflected limelight she would get, but he simply said that “he was already used to it” and that she “shouldn’t worry about it”.

“Why shouldn’t I worry, Fer?”, she thought, clenching her jaw. 

The first time that Charlie got an idea of what Fernando’s day to day life was like was  shortly after he posted the first photo of them on his Instagram. In the comments of the post,he saw hundreds of comments saying that she wasn't as pretty as the other women he had dated, that she was just an “amigaALO” or worse, that they should have a “mini Nano” soon. 

The idea sent a shiver through her body.

She was thankful for the foresight she had to make her profile private, and that would not be changing any time soon.

— So, it looks like you didn’t die? — someone asked, the tone of their voice joking and light. Turning her head, Charlie found Raúl looking at her, leaning against her desk.

— Not yet, if that was your expectation.

— Maybe not an expectation, but I thought there might be a chance — the performance engineer said, crossing his arms — See, with you out of the picture, I might be able to step into race engineering.

— I'm sorry to frustrate your plans — she said, giggling.

— Although, if there's anyone who can deal with Fernando, it's you — Raúl smiled.

— You think so?

— Definitely, especially now that you've become Mrs. Alonso...

Charlie rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

— Not Mrs. Alonso…

— Not yet, Charlie — Raúl said — But it's a matter of time...

— If you say so — she said, turning her attention to her computer screen to glance at her email inbox. Then, Charlie looked back at her colleague — Now, can we talk about work?

— Of course… Mrs. Alonso.

The rest of the day was dedicated to correlating all of the data from aerodynamics and from simulator sessions done by Felipe and Stoffel earlier on in the break. It wasn't a simple task, especially when Fernando was starting to adapt to the new car, with a long simulator session that afternoon. The data was all over the place, and everything was still very unpredictable. 

It was already dark outside in Silverstone by the time Charlie decided she couldn’t focus any more and it was time to go home for the evening. . She thought about asking Fernando if he wanted to go with her, but spotted him recording something on his phone next to Jimmy, so she decided to let him know via WhatsApp that she would be waiting for him back at home.

The drive to Northampton was uneventful, with traffic much calmer than at other times of the year. However, unlike the motorway, Charlie felt like there was a miles-long traffic jam in her mind, complete with cars honking and drivers shouting things at each other, all because of what Raúl said. The Instagram comments were one thing - she didn’t know those people, after all, but she worked with Raúl's every day.

Charlie expected it when she and Fernando decided to start dating, as suddenly as all of it came along — she had anticipated being the subject of scrutiny from people around the world, across news sites and social media, but knowing that she was under similar scrutiny from the people she saw every day was worse. 

She knew Raúl probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying — that there were so many people watching them, full of expectations, wondering if she would be the woman that would finally make Fernando Alonso settle down and put a ring back on his finger, if he would finally trade his steering wheel for pushing a stroller. It was even deeper than that, she’d seen the news articles about him and his former relationships — soon, she’d see questions about whether or not she would be the one to give Spain the next Alonso to stand on the top step of a Formula 1 podium. 

“Is this how Diana felt?”, wondered.

As she stepped into her flat, Charlie kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag haphazardly on the sideboard in the entryway, sinking into her sofa with a sigh.

The funny thing about thinking about all that was that Fernando had never talked about marriage or children, not even before they started dating. It probably wasn't even something he was considering at that moment or in the near future or even with her. 

Charlie had long decided that she was not fit to be a wife or mother, especially given her history with her own mother. She never had any desire to have children. She was sure it would eventually come up and she and Fernando would have to talk about it, but she didn’t know how he would react. He’d made comments to the media in the past about being a father, and he was married a long time ago, but… Perhaps keeping those ideas away from them would have taken the driver a while to realize that she wasn't the person his fans expected her to be.

Maybe keeping those ideas away would keep the end at bay.

Charlie smiled into the darkness of her sitting room as she felt a lone tear run down her face. She felt pathetic, crying over possibilities and scenarios that only existed inside of her head, even more so to get upset about what Fernando’s fans would think of her. After all, Fernando was not in a relationship with his fans, and it shouldn’t matter what they think. But, at that moment, she felt crushed by expectations that were both known and unknown to her.

Running a hand over her cheek, she took a deep breath, trying to push down the lump that was tightening in her throat. Inside her own head, Charlie could hear Hannah, her therapist, telling her that she needed to keep her focus on what was real in the here and now, not on some imaginary ring or a baby in her arms. What was real was that they loved each other.

“And that’s enough for me”, Charlie thought to herself.

She was putting the finishing touches on dinner when Fernando finally arrived at her flat.

— Nena? — he called from the doorway.

— Kitchen.

A few seconds later, he appeared at the kitchen doorway a wide smile on his face, kissing Charlie on the cheek as he approached. 

— Good evening to you too — she laughed, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist.

— How are you? — Fernando whispered in her ear. She felt the bristles of his beard brush the shell of her ear, sending electric chills down her spine.

— Good, and you?

— Better now with you here.

The sentence filled her belly with butterflies.

— How was it in the simulator? — Charlie asked, trying to ignore the way his beard scratched her skin as he placed delicate kisses on the crook of her neck.

— Very good. I think we have a car to compete for the championship.

She dropped the spoon she was holding in the sink, turning to Fernando. 

— Really? You think the car is competitive? I spent all day working with the data and it felt like it was all over the place… Do you really think we can compete?

— I do. And we will win, nena.

She grinned, feeling like she was much more at ease as she plated up the pasta she was making. She asked Fernando if he wanted dinner, and he accepted, following her out to the dining table. 

However, as she went to put the plate down, she frowned, spotting a large black bag with a red-and-white Bell logo on it. The size and shape indicated that there was a helmet inside. 

— Fernando, how many times do I need to tell you that you can't keep putting your things on the dinner table? — she asked, as she turned toward the kitchen, where he was rummaging through a shelf for parmesan cheese. 

However, upon seeing the source of her irritation, he simply responded with a grin.

— I put it there because I didn't want to forget to show you — Fernando replied, leaving the cabinet open and walking to the table.

— Show me what?

— This — he said as he unzipped the bag theatrically presenting its contents to her. 

The helmet was the same design that he had almost always had, with red, yellow, and blue stripes — the colors of Spain’s flag and the blue of the Asturian flag — the sponsors' names followed the lines, forming a cohesive design. 

— Your helmet?

— The new one, yes — Fernando smiled — I asked them to leave it at the factory for the photo shoots, but I wanted to show it to you first.

She glanced at it for a few seconds, puzzled.

— But it’s the same as last year.

Fernando looked surprised, but his expression gave way to an almost sheepish blush

— Well, yeah, much of the design remains the same, but I added an important detail.

— You did?

He took the helmet from her, turning it over in his hands so that the right side was facing Charlie. She noticed the new addition right away, next to the attachment point for his HANS device. The spot normally occupied by a small cross now had a familiar-looking red rose.

— A heraldic rose? — she stammered.

— The rose of Lancaster, more specifically. It's on the coat of arms of Northamptonshire, in the same way that the Cruz de la Victoria is on the coat of arms of Asturias.

— Why?

— Because I wanted to have something of yours with me in the car at all times. And you know that you are my rose, don’t you?

— Full of thorns?

— Beautiful, Charlie — he corrected her — And with some thorns, but it's not like I'm afraid of them.

The feeling growing inside her was confusing and overwhelming. It was stronger and scarier than anything she had ever experienced in her life, but at the same time, it felt good. So good that she hugged him tightly, ignoring the helmet that had been left between them.

— Thank you, my dear — she whispered.

— I have to thank you, baby.

— For what?

— For making me dream again when I thought I didn’t need to anymore  — Fernando replied.

— Does that mean you dream now?

— Yes. And my biggest dream now is to have you with me forever, Charlie.

Even though she smiled at him, the sentence left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Forever is too long, Fer”, she thought.

[vikenticomeshome]

Carl's Cool Kids and Hardee's Cool Kids Meal Toys (part 1/?)

Hello all,

Not too long ago, I made a post about the Cyberchase toys that were available from Carl's Jr. and Hardees back in 2003. This was a tiny part of the Cool Kids promotion that was shared between the two restaurants. The Cool Kids promotion itself lasted about 18 years, based on the archives that I have seen. It started with a "Cow and Chicken" promotion back in February of 2000.

The last promotion is unknown, as the links for November 2017 through April 2018 are missing their graphics, and their target pages are broken. The last one that has its image archived was an August/September 2017 promotion for "oddbods".

For the most part, I am going to stick to the "past promotion" pages, as those give us images and names for all of the products all in one image. If this is missing, then I will attempt to use the set of images from the "toy closeups" page. However, I will need to skip some of these promotions entirely, as I was unable to find images from them.

The year 2000

For February and March of 2000, we have a set of toys from the legendary old Cartoon Network show "Cow and Chicken". I remember watching this sometimes when visiting my grandma, who had cable. I don't really remember it though.

For April and June of 2000, was have "Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot". I have never heard of this before. It ran on Fox Kids in 2001, so I am a bit surprised that I didn't see it alongside other shows I watched back then.

For June and July of 2000, we get a version of Tom and Jerry that was airing on cartoon network. What can I say about these two that hasn't already been said? I remember watching a few incarnations of Tom and Jerry. I think this is the one with William Hanna and Joseph Barbara. It doesn't look like the Chuck Jones variant from what I remember.

For July and August of 2000, we get some superheroes from DC. One thing I notice about these toys is that they don't have a consistent art-style. Wonder Woman is a particularly obvious outlier. They don't seem to be associated with a particular cartoon incarnation.

For September and November of 2000, we have "Brothers Flub". My only opportunity to watch Nickelodeon was visiting my grandma. I don't think I ever saw this show. Apparently the brothers are space couriers.

For October of 2000, we get "Monster Buckets". This picture is grainy, so I cannot make out all of the art. I wonder if this was custom-made, or if this was pre-existing art.

For November and December of 2000, we get "Tiny Toon Adventures". I've only seen bits and pieces of this myself. I know it has a huge following that endures to this day.

For January and February of 2001, we got toys for "Godzilla: The Series". This is another one that aired on Fox Kids back when I watched that channel. However, I don't remember ever seeing this series.

For March and April of 2001, we got "Max Steel". I had never heard of this series before. Apparently, this kids gets attacked by the villain and nearly killed by nano-bots. In an effort to save his life, he is given T-Juice, which saves his life and gives him superhuman abilities.

For April and May of 2001, we get "Monster Rancher". This is not a franchise that I am familiar with, but it is apparently pretty big and ongoing.

For June 2001, we get Crash Bandicoot. He's kind of a big deal. And Spyro is here as well.

For July and August of 2001, we got Wallace and Grommit. This was before the "Curse of the Were-Rabbit" film, which was probably my introduction to the franchise.

And now, we reach a gap. In September 2001, there was a Nascar promotion. And then, in November and December of 2001, there was an "Olive the Other Reindeer" promotion. I couldn't find any official photos for these promotions.

2002

In January and February of 2002, we got Phantom Investigators. I find this promotion fascinating. The series only ran for 13 episodes, between May and August of 2002. These are probably the only toys that were ever released for the series. They may be the only merch of any sort released for the show. I need to sit down and watch it, as the art style is something really special.

For February and March of 2002, we get a Pokemon promotion with little cups topped with Pikachu, Totodile, Mewtwo, and Charizard.

For April and May of 2002, we get the legendary magical girl anime Cardcaptors, based on the manga Cardcaptor Sakura.

And now, we get another gap. I couldn't find any official images for the June 2002 Spider-man promotion.

For August 2002, we get some Digimon toys.

For September 2002, we get "Jackie Chan Adventures". I loved this show growing up. I didn't get to see it very often, but it was good.

For October 2002, we got some Spider-man Halloween buckets.

For November and December of 2002, we go back to the classics for Peanuts, specifically "A Charlie Brown Christmas".

2003

Before we get into the 2003 promotions, let's bring back Cyberchase for a moment. While surviving bags of the togs show that they were released at Carl Jr's and Hardees in 2003, we don't know exactly when they were out. They were never given a promotion of their own. Instead, they were the backup toys when the currently running promotion was sold out. I'm not sure why they didn't give Cyberchase its own promotion.

For January and February of 2003. we got a promotion for the original Ice Age.

For March and April of 2003, we got a promotion for Cubix. This was a South Korean production that got a 4-Kids English dub. I don't remember it.

For May and June of 2003, we get a promotion for Dragon Ball. I hope I don't need to explain what this is. It's kind of a big deal.

For July and August of 2003, we get a promotion for "The Martians".

Now, hold on a second, I don't remember a cartoon called "The Martians" from back then. And I cannot find a cartoon by that name. Wait a minute...

Yeah, I guess Carl Jrs. and Hardees weren't comfortable with the original title of "Butt-Ugly Martians", so they renamed it to "The Martians" and re-did the logo. I couldn't find anything on the Wikipedia page about the show being renamed for different broadcasters or countries, so this may have been just for this toy release. How bizarre.

For August and September of 2003, we get a promotion for everyone's favorite mummy movie.

[disco-troy]

This isn't really canon WRT the superhero community (it is for some villains) but I really like the idea that like a whole bunch of people don't notice when Dick is batman. Like they notice some differences with Batman but they don't think its a different person. I just think that has so much potential for comedy down the road

Some hero: idk why ppl keep saying that Batman is such a bad team player, I did a mission with him in 2011 and he was kinda scary but like super supportive

Donna, knowing fully well that was Dick: that was a one time thing Riddler: I have learned much since the last time we fought batman, I will not fall for the flower trap any longer Bruce:???? Riddler: Don't you remmeber? In January Bruce: ooooohh yea (he doesn’t remember)

Dick: I hate Batman >:( Someone: No, I feel u he was such an ass this one time I worked with him.... Dick aware that that was him as batman and not Bruce: ://

[kaddyssammlung]

Okay. Let's do this mister Vessel (or whoever posted this. Sometimes I think it's you hiding in the main account. Hiding in plain sight...right?! XD ) More under the cut because of mental health things and I also write down how I found "it" out. You get what I mean.

Beginning of 2023 YouTube kept showing me reactions to Sleep Token's the Summoning. So I decided to listen to that song. I had checked them out in 2020 already but I did not really get them back then. And I am still beating myself up over this. But whatever....

I recognized that name but was not really aware of the fact that I had already seen “The Offering” from them. Back then I was confused by the lyrics.

So I listened to The Summoning and also Chokehold. All of this was in January of 2023 but I don't remember an exact date.

My brother and I share the same taste in music and we both liked those two songs. I remember driving to work with him and having wild discussions about the songs and especially their sound. They do sound so different and they still sound so different then any other band that I know. I really, really, really liked their music. My obsession came online fast at that point. I preordered “Take Me Back To Eden” because I wanted to have the CD as soon as it got released. Meanwhile I started to dive into all of their all songs. I read the name “The Summoning” again and remembered that I had heard that way back. I read the lyrics again and started to kind of understand them.

Not long, only a few days after having found them, my brother was like “have you heard who is behind that band?” I did not even care that much about it, so I said no. My brother also did not really know but he just told me what he knew. The same day YouTube suggested a song to me with a thumbnail that showed a shy-looking guy with a guitar. Sometimes you only look at something and know right away. So yeah....I watched that video and read the comments....

I never really thought about that in a sense that: it makes no difference to me. It never has. I have basically always known who they were ever since finding them. It was meant to be in a way.

I started to slowly get into the fandom. I felt weird and disconnected at that time. I really liked their lyrics and their lyrics spoke to me. They also reminded me of my own mental health issues. But at the same time I noticed themes of hope and getting stronger and leaving the past behind and growing strong through suffering. Or other spiritual themes. I was hoping to find peeps in that fandom that are like me and that get what I say, even the “weird topics” such as spirituality. I read through reddit (the normal big because the “other one” did not even exist back then) and also discord and well..hmm...maybe I was a bit disappointed. All of this surface-level shallow stuff XD. I don't mean this as an offense it's just what it felt like. So I decided to share some insight and long story short: it turned ugly on discord fast.

But I always had my little tumblr. Fun fact: I've been on tumblr since its existence. I have deleted my original tumblr a long time ago. It was a “romanticizing mental illness / being pro ana” type of blog. Then I had a recovery blog, fitgirl inspiration blog, Children of Bodom fanblog (that I still have) anyway.

None of those were what this is. I don't just mean this in regards to Sleep Token but more in general.

So...Discord almost destroyed this fandom for me but I did not let it happen. I mean it's also my mental health that got in the way.

Two years back I fell into the biggest whole that I've been in since a long time. This whole childhood sa topic and I had just swallowed down. But something in the lyrics always reminded me of not resolved trauma. So...finally coming out of this. Thanks to Vessel and his lyrics and also my need to explain those lyrics. In the summer of 2023 I found Kerry. She has a video that talks about “The Gods” and Vessel sings about “The Gods” and I wanted to know who the f* “the Gods” were so I started to get into her content.

A journey.....a weird journey ever since January of 2023 and strange synchronicity and all kinds of other things have lead to where I am now. 2025.....the era of truth has begun (it has something to do with spirituality again and nothing with that fandom). Let's see what I can say in a year. I don't know yet.

So...

Thank you :)

[setaripendragon]

JSaMN Readalong Liveblog - Chapter 1

Okay, so I've got the entire JSaMN audiobook on my laptop, and I'm going to be listening along for the readalong, and I wanted to try doing a bit of a liveblog and actually write down my thoughts as I'm listening. (And maybe flex some of my analytical skills in a more deliberate fashion than usual? We'll see.) I have read the book before, but that was a very long time ago, and I don't actually remember it very well. (I remember the show much better.) So I may end up making reference to things that come later in the story, though I'll try not to give spoilers.

"He hardly ever spoke of magic, and when he did, it was like a history lesson, and no one could bear to listen to him."

Okay, so, right off the bat, before we even get into chapter one, this just... already sets my brain sparking with curiosity. Almost immediately we get told that magic exists (presumably), but that one of our titular characters talks about it in such a way as to make it boring. That's just... so counter to expectations. Very tasty, and excellent way to start the book, to be honest.

And it's the very first thing we ever learn about Norrell, and it's such an evocative portrait in just a single sentence. There's so much to be drawn out of it; not just Norrell's character, but other people's perception of him.

Chapter 1 - The Library at Hurtfew (Autumn 1806 - January 1807)

The entire opening passage just... immediately sets us up with a system of magic that is treated, in world, in such a... boring, officious manner, and that's just such a fascinating choice. "Long dull papers", "practicioners must pound and wrack their brains to make the least learning go in", and so on. It lays out so clearly that these so-called magicians are... taking the magic out of magic?

(That's a thought I want to poke at more through the readalong. I'm feeling a theme here.)

Aaand then we get our first footnote! Which is a reference to an in-world book. I know that the style of the book, with it being set out as an in-universe history with relevant footnotes and references is, like, Iconic of the book, but I have to mention how much I love it. There's so much opportunity for worldbuilding like this.

It's also, I have to note, our first mention of our other titular character, and I'm vibrating at the choice to introduce both of them in such an off-hand way in the narrative. Without the footnote, Strange doesn't even get named, just called 'a great magician', and Norrell isn't even mentioned in the narrative at all. And the contrasts and parallels!

Strange gets called a great magician right off, whereas Norrell 'hardly ever speaks of magic'. Norrell makes magic sound like a history lesson, and yet Strange is the one who published a book called 'The History and Practice of English Magic'. On the other hand, Strange has published a whole-ass book, whereas Norrell makes magic sound so boring that people don't want to hear what he has to say about it.

Also the contrast between getting to hear what others think about Norrell, whereas with Strange we get to hear what he thinks about other magicians (namely, that they're stupid and quarrelsome).

And! And then there's the contrast of both of them against Segundus, who is, unless I missed something, our very first named character that's actually introduced within the narrative.

"Northern magicians ... had always been better respected than Southern ones." Ooh. I'd never noticed that before, but this is such a lovely little bit of foreshadowing of the whole Raven King backstory stuff.

And then, of course, Segundus asks The Question. And again we get another contrast. We're being told 'there is magic' and 'there is no more magic'; 'magic is a fascinating subject' and 'magic is dull, dry, and boring'; and also here is a learned magician asking this question in a very portentious manner. The narrator tells us three times what he's asking, as though it must be spelled out deliberately, only to be immediately followed up with "It was the most commonplace question in the world."

I honestly love Dr Foxcastle's response, too. It's such a beautiful example of someone twisting facts to suit their argument. (I'm sure there's a name for this sort of... false equivalence in an argument?) "you would not expect ... that astronomers should labour to rearrange the stars" is so poetic and now I really want a story in which that is a thing that happens.

And I know I've said this before, but it keeps coming up and it's such realistic worldbuilding with such an unrealistic aspect of the world that I can't quite get over it; the way that the York Society all but venerates the 'noble' magics of 'long ago' (back in the glory days), and romanticises the whole concept, and yet at the same time absolutely denigrates the reality of magic actually happening as not just a sham or a con, but something that belongs to lesser beings. "A gentleman could not do magic."

(Which also implies that other sorts of magic, done by said 'lessers' is actually still around and possible, for all that the gentlemen deny it being so and call practicioners of lower social classes charlatans. Another weird and interesting contradiction.)

An odd little thing caught my attention in the introduction of Mr Honeyfoot and his family; "...to eat a good dinner in company with Mrs Honeyfoot and her three pretty daughters..." I don't know if this is a convention of the time (I do love how the book plays with language and spelling to give the narrative the feel of something written in the 1800s), but 'her three pretty daughters' jumped out at me as a very peculiar way of phrasing it. Why not 'their'? It probably is just a stylistic choice because Mrs Honeyfoot was the only relevant party mentioned in that part of the sentence, but still.

I also love Mrs Honeyfoot's opinion of Segundus. 'Exactly what a gentleman should be, but ... he would never profit by it, as it was not the fashion to be modest and quiet and kind-hearted.' The contrast there - between the ideal of a gentleman as modest and quiet and kind-hearted that is, despite the elevation in social status of gentlemen, not in fashion - gives proof to the lie of the ideal. (Which feels like it ties in quite nicely with the way magic has been romanticised by men utterly incapable of doing it.)

"...some of whom had gone to the most retired parts of England and Scotland and Ireland, where magic was strongest" There's two things about this bit that grabbed me. The first is the lack of Wales named as an independant place. I don't know my history very well, tbh, but I attribute this to a in-universe attitude that 'Wales' is just a part of 'England', which does fit with the fact that Merlin, iirc, is called an English Magician, despite most probably being Welsh (unless that wasn't such a common part of the lore when the book was published?). The second is the tying of magic to nature, and more specifically the most wild and unpopulated parts of the land. There is such a strong connection drawn between magic and wildness in this book, and it's fascinating.

It ties into the Theme I mentioned at the start, I think, that all this so-called academic debate and 'elevating' magic to 'civilised society' takes something out of it, makes it lesser (to the point of failing entirely (or nearly so) once it's brought into that realm).

Oh, and Norrell's first introduction actually in the narrative is as 'The Other Magician'. Which has so many layers to it. Obviously there is the implication of 'there is the Society of York Magicians' and then 'that other one' (derogatory), and maybe I'm reaching to read more into it, but I can't help but compare it to Strange being 'a great magician' and then Norrell being 'the other magician'.

And then we get told that he lived in "a very retired part of the country". Mere minutes after being told that the Aureates would venture into such places to solve their (presumably magical) problems. Already tying Norrell to a superior magical place and drawing parallels between Segundus and Honeyfoot seeking him out and the year-and-a-day quests that Aureates would go on.

Norrel's letter to Honeyfoot and Segundus is so catty. Segundus notes the sarcasm, of course, but... 'I am at a loss to account for the sudden honour done to me' feels so much like regency speak for 'the fuck you playing at?' followed by his clear disdain for the 'wisdom' of the York Society. I love it.

"What, after all, is the worst that can happen?" Oh, Segundus, honey, no. Don't ever think that when it comes to magic!

Damn, but the descriptions in this book are top tier, chef's kiss, no notes. Just...

"...rain had made long ragged pools in the bare brown fields, wet roofs were like cold stone mirrors, and Mr Honeyfoot's post-chaise travelled through a world that seemed to contain a much higher proportion of chill grey sky and a much smaller one of solid comfortable earth than was usually the case."

I can feel that dream-like quality of the sky opening up around you and the world bending away from that one spot you happen to be standing on. On a more analytical note, I find it fascinating the rhythm that's created by the repeated use of adjective-adjective-noun; 'long ragged pools' and 'bare brown fields' and 'cold stone mirrors' and 'chill grey sky' and 'solid comfortable earth'. Gotta try and keep my ears open for any more instances of this.

The tale of the Manchester Society of Magicians trying to "apply the principles of reason and science to magic" which led them to the conclusion that "there was not now, nor ever had been, any magic in the world" and then the guy who tried to write it down was too depressed to start... Again with the theme of 'taking the magic out of magic'. You try to tame it and it's gone. And followed this time with the implication that this is a devastating thing to have happen.

'Prophecies are great nonsense!' Mr Honeyfoot says, mere moments before enthusiastically wondering if he and Segundus might be the two magicians mentioned in this prophecy. XD

And I'm sure this has been talked to death, but it's so interesting that Vinculus did think Segundus actually might be one of the two magicians, even if he did eventually conclude he wasn't. And then that leading Segundus to Ask The Question that does set off the events of the prophecy. Is that what Vinculus saw in him? That he had a part to play, just not the part?

Also, because we were talking about this in the discord chat at pretty much exactly the same time I was listening to this bit, and wondering What If Honeyfoot and Segundus were the magicians of prophecy:

(I would have put Honeyfoot first the way he was in the book, but we never find out his first name, so the pattern wouldn't fit -sulks-)

Oh, now here's a detail I had forgotten. Segundus says Vinculus made him write down his name, and "looked at it a good long while". There is a similarity between 'Jonathan Strange' and 'John Segundus', and of course the written word does have a certain significance with Vinculus given [Spoilers]. There's some nebulous web of connections here that I can't grasp well enough to put into words, but definitely has the feel of this book's general air of ominous whimsy when it comes to magic and how it works.

In the description of Hurtfew Abbey I'm noticing more adjective-adjective-noun descriptions, though not quite as evocative as the last bit of description. 'ghostly-looking wet trees' and 'fine classical-looking bridge', and I have to not 'handsome and square and solid-looking' even though it doesn't quite fit the pattern. But I'm fascinated by this repeated use of [adjective]-looking as a description here. I'm wondering if this is on purpose and if it's any sort of commentary on appearance over substance. The house is solid-looking not actually solid, the trees are ghostly-looking not actual ghost-trees, the bridge is classical-looking but not actually classical architecture. Or perhaps it's meant to give the whole place an illusory sort of feel, given [Spoilers].

Me being a rather name-obsessed sort of writer/reader, I find the name of Norrell's home - Hurtfew Abbey - absolutely fascinating. It gives these vibes of a place of solace and sanctuary; an Abbey being a place of religious seclusion and hurtfew calling to mind things like feverfew, which reduces fevers; this is a place that reduces pain. And yet, at the same time, we learn that the abbey itself is gone and the name comes from the River Hurt that flows through the place. Hurt flows through Norrell's home. That's some freaking symbolism right there.

Oh, Norrell here is so condescending about Segundus's book. Nitpicking at a self-admitted minor detail, calling it 'your little history', then smiling 'inwardly' to himself as he admits that Segundus couldn't possibly have known about said minor detail because Norrell has the only book it's mentioned in. And it's so... so weaselly, the way he couches it in compliments and 'you're lucky to be so ignorant' type statements.

He's so unpleasant, it's amazing. And even though we were primed for it by the not-an-introduction at the beginning of the book, it's wild to me that the introduction of one of the two titular characters is so, so very negative. He's petty, he's condescending, he's self-congratulatory, he's stand-offish, the best that could be said of him was that he's 'almost gracious' when letting them into the library. Only almost.

I love how disorienting magic is in this book. Again there's a connection to wildness and maybe a sort of 'otherness', that it's unpredictable even to the rules of reality. The description of Norrell leading them to the library being "as if Mr Norrell had discovered some fifth point of the compass" is so evocative, despite describing something entirely impossible.

The distinction made between Books About Magic and Books Of Magic is really interesting to me, given that the latter is implied to have some quality that the former lacks that makes them incredibly valuable. My first impression, given the phrasing, is that Books Of Magic describe how magic is done, whereas Books About Magic describe what magic can do or has done. But given my thoughts this readalong about the notion that trying to delineate or explain magic weakens it's effectiveness/presence/essence/etc, I'm wondering if Books Of Magic do have a sort of magic laid into their pages? Stolen, in a way, from the world by being Written Down. (And perhaps, made lesser for it?)

Coming back to Norrell's character, I've been told that contradiction is one way to create depth in a character, and this scene makes an excellent case for it. Because here he is, clearly a man utterly dedicated to magic, with a magical library magnitudes greater than even other very impressive collections, and yet, every time Segundus or Honeyfoot gushes about the incredible works or compliments one of the books, he's so very negative about it all, so bizarrely disillusioned with the wonders of magic. It immediately engenders the question why? And despite how generally negative Norrell's introduction has been, it does make him an utterly fascinating and engaging character.

"With his long hair as ragged as rain and as black as thunder, he would have looked quite at home upon a windswept moor, or lurking in some pitch-black alleyway, or perhaps in a novel by Mrs Radcliffe."

Admittedly, I was already in love with Childermass by the time I picked up the book thanks to the BBC mini-series, but oh my god do I love this description. Also the fact that just before this, we see him mocking his 'betters' and getting away with it with aplomb, it's yet another absolutely brilliant character introduction. Such a vivid picture painted so elegantly in so few words. (Can you tell who's my favourite character? XD)

I also really like the way that Childermass gets introduced almost as an aside earlier in the scene. (Another introduction that doesn't give any detail until later, like Norrel's and Strange's, although Childermass was at least present in the narrative for his introduction. Vinculus, too, got an intro like Strange and Norrell's, now I think about it.) 'There's a man, his name is Childermass, he works for Norrell, moving on! Here's a decadent and lush description of the library!' And it's only a good while later that we get this description of Childermass as a wild, disreputable, insolent sort with long dark hair.

Th footnote about Martin Pale and Cold Henry. I don't know what I'm thinking about this footnote except something along the lines of: !!!

It's so fucking funny, and yet, at the same time, there's some fascinating worldbuilding going on, what with us being told that "fairies were naturally wicked creatures who did not always know when they were going wrong" and also with yet another example of a magician being extremely pretentious and building a reputation on something of very little substance. (I say, while making grand extracts and interpretations of a text, I am aware of the irony.)

Oh, look another adjective-adjective-noun description. "Then, conscious of time passing and the *queer dark eye* of the man of business upon him..." (-lowers my shipper-goggles down off my forehead- 👀)

And 'a strong cruel-looking knife' which I didn't mark as particularly significant at first (this pattern seems to be something the author just does), but then I thought a little more about how it's another [adjective]-looking description and I wondered perhaps if there is some symbolism going on here with these descriptions. And the place being used to describe its inhabitants; Solid-looking (but actually fragile?), classical-looking (but not actually... antiquated? authentic? A Classic(TM)?), ghostly-looking (but actually... vibrant? vulnerable?). Cruel-looking (but actually kind?).

I'm probably reaching, honestly, but that's the point of this little exercise, so I'm gonna run with it and say that this makes me want to say that that book-binding table was Childermass's, not Norrell's. It fits him slightly better, I think (though kind is not a description that fits either of them particularly easily).

I know that there's other reasons to assume this - it's a form of manual labour which Norrell is unlikely to want or be skilled enough to do, for one - but I think it's interesting that the author took the time to direct our attention to it. Even and especially noting that even the character thought it was Odd, priming us even further to take note of it. And I think, given what I know from the rest of the story, it makes much more sense that it's foreshadowing Childermass's intimate familiarity with Norrell's books, rather than... What? That Norrell binds his own books? I suppose it would make sense with how propriatary he is, but we've already been told that well enough.

And for the end of the chapter, one more delicious parallel. Honeyfoot asks Norrel why magic is no longer done, and Norrell's response? 'It is a wrong question, sir', just like Dr Foxcastle said at the beginning. Except, this time, instead of 'magicians do not do magic', it's 'I myself am quite a tolerable practical magician'. Parallel and contrast! A callback to the beginning of the chapter! A cliff-hanger!Pulling the rug out from under us after spending the whole chapter building up how magic is gone, and then this!

Definitely makes me want to listen to the next chapter immediately XD

Since the readalong is covering the first five chapters in the first week, I was originally going to do one post about all five of them, but, uh, I underestimated exactly how much I'd have to say about the chapter. I might have less to say as time goes on (but I doubt it), so I might end up doubling up some chapters later on, but for now, I think I'm going to make a post a chapter and hope I don't fall behind the readalong, since just this one chapter took me a whole afternoon to get through. If you want to follow along with my liveblog, I'll be tagging each one with 'jsamn liveblog' as well as the 'jsamn 20 readalong' tag, but I won't be linking the liveblogs to each other because I'm already spending enough time on this, and I don't need the extra fuss ^^"

[lanassgirlll]

Old Faces

part 1, part 2

Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The last time you saw the Mikaelson family, you got left heartbroken. Now, you meet a certain member of the family again after centuries.

Warnings: maybe a little bit of angst? use of y/n!

AN: I don't really remember the original idea for this, since I published the first part almost a year ago, lol. But I wanted to finish it and I was in the mood to write, so here it is, the second part that I was supposed to post in January. It's short but at least it's something. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

Sitting down on the chair Elijah had pulled out for her, Y/N couldn't stop thinking that agreeing to talk to him was a mistake.

She could remember the pain so well from all those centuries ago, and yet the love she used to feel for him back then was playing with her rational thoughts. Was it possible that a little spark of it was still deeply buried in her heart?

Y/N was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even notice Elijah had sat down across from her on the small coffee table in the cafe he had taken her to.

He cleared his throat, maybe a bit too loudly, before speaking up.

"Y/N? Are you alright?"

She blinked a few times before slowly looking up at him. She stared in his eyes, seeing worry behind them? Surely her mind was playing tricks on her.

"You brought me here to talk, so talk, or else I'm leaving."

Y/N thought perhaps, she was being too harsh with her words, but she quickly dismissed the thought after remembering the horrible words he had said to her the day Elijah and his family had left her behind.

"Would you like something to drink first, perhaps a tea? You used to love tea-"

Y/N clenched her jaw and quickly cut him off mid sentence.

"I do not wish to chit chat with you like I have all the time in the world, as I said before. Get to the point or else I am leaving."

Elijah looked at her and sighed. He could still remeber her as if he had last seen her yesterday, and not centuries ago.

She hadn't changed much. Only her hair was much shorter and she seemed more.. on edge, more rude, than she used to be, but he couldn't be sure.

"I now realise that I have missed you, Y/N. And I know I have no right to say such thing to you, but it is only true."

As she heard his words, she rolled her eyes and looked to the side, so he couldn't see her face. She knew sooner or later her facade would break and her walls would crumble under the hurtful feelings that were consuming her. She was so confused.

"Yeah, you have no right to say this to me. You were the one who left me, remember? You were the one who broke my heart like it was nothing, knowing you were once everything to me."

"Y/N-"

But she cut him off yet once again, before he could say more.

"No, Elijah."

She turned to look at him again, before continuing.

"How could you do all that to me? I let you turn me into a monster, all because I was blinded by love. I left everyone I knew behind, so I could be with you. Everything I did, I did for you and your family, because I loved you, and you, you left me behind, all alone, like I never meant anything to you."

Tears were starting to form at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. She didn't want to let the pain from the past consume her.

Elijah could only look at her, a sad look in his eyes, as he reached over the table and gently took her hand in his, holding it tightly.

"You have no idea how sorry I am, Y/N. I know I made a mistake by leaving you, but I had no other choice, my father-"

"I do not want your pity. The time for an explanation has long passed. And I honestly.. do not care, not anymore."

She pulled her hand away from his grasp and took a deep breath. She couldn't hold onto old feelings, good or bad memories, or really anything that meant reconnecting with Elijah Mikaelson, nor his family.

"I was ruined after you left me. But that suffering shaped me into who I am today. Perhaps I still feel something for you, buried deep down, but I'd rather drown in vervain over and over again for eternity, than let that control me again."

She slowly stood up from the chair and looked down at him, a small smile forming on her lips. But it wasn't a mocking one or in any way mean. The look she had on her face way.. peaceful?

Elijah stood up as well, without looking away from her face.

But before he could say anything, she held her hand up in front of her and spoke up again.

"I wish things could be different, Elijah, but I'm sorry to dissapoint you, that they're not. I learned to live without you, and I will keep it that way."

She slowly put her hand down and stepped next to him, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Have a fulfilling and happy life, Elijah, I truly wish you all the best."

She gave him one last soft smile before speeding away, leaving only a trace of her perfume behind.

And all Elijah could do was stand there, shocked at their interaction. He wasn't hurt or mad, but what he felt was joy and pride.

He was proud of the woman she had become, how strong she seemed and even after all the pain he had put her through, she still had that endless kindness in her, that he had fallen in love with all those centuries ago, along with every other thing about her.

"Until we meet again, Y/N."

He said with a small smile, before walking away.

[grayskies2525]

A Year of Falling | Ben and Arlo | M/M | Part 1/?

I’ve decided to write another cheesy, little love story 😊. If you’ve read The Reluctant Reunion, and its sequel An Admirable Denial, then you may remember Ben. You don't need to read either story to understand this one.

Word count: 4,200 words

Link to all parts: A Year of Falling

***

Chapter One: January — First Cold of the Year

“I’m not sure what you expect, Ben, when the car is literally twenty-six years old.”

“I expect it to get me to work and back,” Ben says with a long, exasperated sigh as he throws his head back against the headrest of the passenger’s seat. “I need it to get me to work and back,” he tells his best friend, Felix, whose gaze is currently fixed on the road in front of them while he drives.

“Again, that’s asking a lot out of a car that is nearly as old as you.”

Ben narrows his eyes, though Felix doesn’t notice since his focus is still on the road. “I’m thirty-four, Felix. My car is still in its twenties, thank you very much.”

Felix spares a quick glance over at Ben before averting his gaze back to the road. “Ben, you were seven years old when that car was made. You don’t see a problem with that?”

Ben does, in fact, see a problem with it. Of course he sees a problem with it. He’s tired, though, so he refuses to relent. 

“Nope,” Ben says, exuding a confidence he in no way actually possesses. “Plenty of cars can run for several decades.”

“With maintenance, Ben,” Felix says, pointedly. 

In that moment, Ben silently concedes to losing the embarrassingly short-lived argument. He can’t pretend he maintains his ‘98 Toyota Corolla the way he should. Ben doesn’t have the resources — namely time or money — to keep a car like that properly serviced. Felix is well-aware of this. 

So, Ben slumps further down into his seat. He sniffles thickly, scrunching up his nose. One sniffle isn’t enough, so he scrubs at his nose with the back of his hand. Then, sniffles again. He quickly finds himself in an uncomfortable cycle, alternating between scrubbing and sniffling. This has been going on since he woke up this morning. That, alone, should have been indicative that his day would not be going well. 

He leans forward to open up Felix’s glove compartment. Immediately, a barrage of items tumble out, crashing to the floor. 

“What the hell, Ben?” Felix asks, annoyance clear in his tone. 

“Who keeps their glove compartment that fucking full?” Ben asks, feeling indignant in a way he knows he has no right to be. But it’s been a tiresome day — despite the fact of it only being 7:30 AM — and now he has to bend over to pick up Felix’s innumerable CD cases, and with his nose running incessantly, he’s not fond of the prospect. Reluctantly, he begins the task.

“Who opens up someone else’s glove compartment?” Felix retorts.

“Someone whose nose is freaking pouring like a faucet! I need tissues or something,” Ben says, resigning himself, at this point, to holding his arm up over his nose as he collects the fallen items.

“Oh my god,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t you just say that before taking it upon yourself to destroy my poor car. There’s some napkins in the console, I think.”

With another desperate sniffle, barely enough to stem the tide of his overflowing nose, he finishes shoving the items back into the full glove compartment. He quickly opens up the console and sees several brown napkins clearly acquired from various fast food establishments. He grabs for them and holds the rough paper to his pouring nose. He gives a productive blow before wadding up the napkins and setting them on his lap.

“It’s too early in the year for allergies, so my guess is you’re coming down with another cold?” Felix asks.

Ben rubs the bridge of his nose, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he’s beginning to feel. “Uh, yeah, probably,” Ben says, shrugging.

Felix lets out a long sigh. “Ben, you are literally always sick,” he says, and Ben thinks he detects an accusatory note to his tone.

Ben stares at him. “You say that like it’s my fault.”

“It is,” Felix says, emphatically. “Partially, anyway. You sustain yourself on Cheetos and, like, 2 hours of sleep a night. And you never do anything but work.”

Ben sniffles again, rubbing his nose. He closes his eyes, deciding to rest them for a moment. He knows there’s no use in trying to grab a quick nap, since they’ll be at the coffee shop he works at in less than ten minutes. “Let me know whenever not working becomes an actual option, Felix, and I’ll jump right on it,” he says, his tone slightly more biting than he’d intended. This is beyond a trite conversation between the two of them, and as appreciative of Felix as he is for picking him up when his car wouldn’t start this morning, he doesn't have the patience to listen to this again right now.

Felix lets out a long sigh. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to, you know… lecture you or whatever. I just wish you could manage without having to work two shitty jobs.” Ben keeps his eyes closed for a moment. If it were anyone else, he’d smile and joke it off, or change the subject. But this is Felix — his best friend since preschool. He’s the one person he can be his entire self with — even if that current version of himself is in a miserable mood.

“Yeah, Felix,” he says with a wry laugh. “Me, too. I’m just… I’m doing my best, though, okay?”

There’s a long moment where Felix says nothing, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. “Are you?” he asks, finally. “Doing your best?” Ben barely has his mouth open before Felix continues. “I mean, I know you work hard, Ben. Literally anyone can see that. But, what about, you know… everything else? Like, all the rest that goes into maintaining your well-being? I’m not even just talking about how bad you are at sleeping and eating well. God knows I’m also not great at doing those things, okay? I’m not trying to act like I’m perfect, but for me, I’m usually just caught up in other stuff, or I get distracted, but you….” Felix pauses as if in search of the right words. “You were literally a week paying rent this month even though you had the money. And last month, your water was turned off. And this kind of thing happens all the time, Ben. You just… you don’t take care of yourself. Like, at all.” Again, Ben opens his mouth to speak, but Felix shoots him a pointed glare before continuing. “And… And I think you want people to think it’s because you’re lazy, or that you just can’t be bothered, or whatever. But, I know you, Ben, and sometimes I worry that… that you just don’t care enough about yourself. Like, you have no sense of your value. Like you think you deserve to do nothing but work yourself to the bone. I mean, you don’t even try to apply for different jobs. You’ve just accepted this ridiculous setup you’ve got going on, and I mean, what’s even your reward, Ben? To come home to your tiny little apartment where you live alone, all so you can start the cycle over again the next day? You don’t even let yourself date! It’s like you want to be as miserable as possible.” 

Ben clenches his jaw and lets out a long breath. He feels moisture pooling up at the edge of his nostrils, so he quickly swipes at it with the back of his hand. “Go ahead and let me out here, Felix,” he says, his tone sharp.

Felix huffs out a breath. “Are you kidding me? You’re really just going to be angry about this instead of actually trying to process my words?”

Ben grits his teeth, wanting to respond, but his breath starts to hitch and he jerks forward into his napkins. “AhhH’DSHooo!” The sneeze is harsh, much more than the sneezes accompanying  his bad allergy days. He’s irrefutably coming down with a cold. The sneeze, and the realization that comes with it, depletes his energy. 

“Okay,” Felix says with a sigh. “I will admit that maybe this wasn’t the best time for this conversation.”

“Oh and there’s a good time to tell me that I live a worthless, shitty life?” he asks with a wry laugh. “A good time to tell me that because I didn’t go to college or have parents with enough money to help me out, that I’m not trying hard enough? Not to even fucking mention that somehow it’s my fault that I haven’t just fallen into some sort of fairytale romance like you and Connor. Because that’s the only way to be happy, right?” Ben asks, all composure gone. 

“Ben,” Felix says, sternly, though Ben thinks he can detect some hurt in his tone, as well. “You know that’s not what I was saying. I just want you to want more for yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ben says, rubbing the center of his forehead where a dull ache is forming. “Listen, thanks for the ride,” he says, looking out the window at the now visible coffee shop. “Don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll walk home later, or… I don’t know, try to get the one taxi or Uber this dump of a town has,” he says, bitterness coating his words, as he removes his seatbelt. 

“Goddamn it, Ben. Stop being so unreasonable. You know I’ll be here later.”

Ben’s already shaking his head. “Don’t waste your time,” he says as he leaves the car.

____________

It takes ten minutes into his shift to regret every single word he’d said to Felix in the car that morning. Felix is the sweetest, most caring person he’s ever met, and Ben knows he’d been putting words in Felix’s mouth — that he’d been projecting his own insecurities. But it had been so early in the day, and Ben had woken up late, not having time to get even a single cup of coffee in his system. Then, of course, there had been the mess with his car. And his budding cold. 

After the line of customers dies down, he leaves the other barista, Kenna, to handle the shop for a moment. He heads to the cramped storage area to send a quick text to Felix. Using this moment to also have a reprieve from wearing his mask, he pulls it off, then types one simple word — “Sorry” and hits send. He blinks when he sees an immediate response from Felix which also says “Sorry.” Ben furrows his brows. A moment later he receives another text from Felix.

Felix: Did we both just apologize at the same time?

Ben feels the corners of his mouth quirk up as he reads the text. 

Ben: Looks like it. You don’t need to, though. I was being an ass. I’m just tired and it’s been a rough morning and it felt like you were attacking me

Felix: I get that. I’m tired, too. Edna escaped her enclosure last night and Connor and I spent hours looking for her. It was AWFUL. But still, I shouldn’t have snapped. You know I just worry about you though, right? That’s where I was coming from. But I recognize those words weren’t what you needed at that moment.

Ben takes a moment to sympathize with Connor for having to live with Edna, Felix’s pet tarantula, then begins typing. 

Ben: What an emotionally mature response, Felix. Connor must be sharing what’s he’s been learning in therapy

Felix: He HAS been actually. Anyway, I’ll pick you up when I’m off work. 

Ben: Fiiinnnneee. I guess I’ll let you pick me up if you’re that eager to do it, geez

Felix: 🙄 Quit texting me and do your actual job.

And with that, everything is back to being fine between Ben and Felix. Their disagreement hadn’t even lasted twenty minutes. This has always been the pattern between them. Ben knows the foundation of their friendship is strong enough to handle a little shaking up every now and then. Felix knows this, too. It allows the two to say things that need to be said, or like today — things that don’t particularly need to be said, but are still their feelings, nonetheless — without the fear of any actual damaging effects to their relationship. Ben could spend every day telling Felix how grateful he is to have Felix in his life, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Felix has always been his one constant — especially after Ben’s parents passed away a few years ago. Ben has never had issues making connections with people, but keeping them… sometimes it feels impossible. But, somehow, he’s kept Felix all this time. 

Ben is distracted from his thoughts when Kenna peeks into the storage room. “Dude, I need you back out here.” 

So, Ben emerges from the storage room to reluctantly face more customers. His nose is still running relentlessly, which is not an enjoyable state to be in when serving customers. The next person in line looks to be a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He smiles awkwardly when Ben asks him for his order, and runs a hand through his curly, brown hair. “Um, yeah, can I just have a honey citrus mint tea, please?” he asks. 

The man’s voice cracks mid-sentence in a way that has Ben suspecting he’s not the only one under the weather today. The man’s tea order is further evidence of this suspicion, as well as the reddened skin around the edges of his nostrils. 

“Sure,” Ben says with his usual forced customer service smile. “Can you give me your name?”

The man opens his mouth to speak, but Ben notices his face contorting into an almost pained expression. Ben’s close to asking if he’s okay when the man’s head bobs down, then pops back up quickly. Ben realizes it was a sneeze — a completely silent one.

 “Uh, bless you,” Ben says slowly. “I mean, if that was a sneeze. Was it a sneeze?” he asks, an amused smile playing across his lips.

The man looks up, and Ben notices the man’s cheeks are flushed. Was this man embarrassed to be sneezing? “Um, yeah, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Ben feels his brows furrow as he realizes the man is definitely embarrassed to be sneezing. “I’m at the tail end of a cold and my n-nose —” The man swings his arm up to catch another sneeze. 

“G’nt!”

This time the sneeze slightly more audible, but still expertly stifled. 

The man’s cheeks flush further and his gaze is firmly fixed on the floor when he says “Uh, excuse me, again. My nose is just bothering me this morning. My name…uh... It’s Arlo?” he says as though it’s a question.

Ben watches this man — Arlo — look very much like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. All that embarrassment from two small sneezes? Ben wonders, to himself. Although, as Ben considers it, he realizes the man looked decidedly uncomfortable the moment Ben first saw him. Ben feels his expression soften as he realizes this guy must just be shy — exceptionally so. 

After Arlo pays for the tea, Ben turns around to begin making it. He’s reminded of his own cold as he feels his nose begin to tickle. Unlike Arlo, Ben does not have dainty, quiet little sneezes, so he’s reluctant to sneeze here around food and drinks. So, he tries to hold it off. He’s mostly successful. However, when he goes to hand the tea to Arlo, and with one sharp hitch of his breath as his only warning, he sneezes everywhere.

“HH-ADT’SHHHHUUUE! ADT’SHHOOOOO!” 

Ben winces as he realizes he’d never put his mask back on when he’d taken that break earlier. So the droplets from the two uncovered sneezes freely spray out in front of him, thoroughly coating everything close to him in a fine mist— including Arlo’s tea that he’s still holding out in front of him. He desperately hopes he didn’t actually hit Arlo with any of the spray. It’s now Ben’s turn to be embarrassed and he feels his own cheeks flush. 

Arlo’s staring at him, wide-eyed, and Ben is horrified to see Arlo actually reaching for the cup.

“Oh my god, no. No, no, no,” Ben says, pulling the cup out of Arlo’s reach. “I just sneezed all over that cup. There’s no way I’m letting you touch this thing. I’ll make you a new one,” he says, emphatically.

Arlo smiles, looking sheepish. “Okay. I just… I didn’t know if it was okay to ask for a new one? And, well, I’m already sick, so….” he trails off, looking away from Ben. 

Ben just stares at the man. “Dude, you have got to be a better advocate for yourself. I mean you literally just watched me sneeze on your drink. And you were just going to take it?” Ben asks, incredulous. 

Arlo’s face contorts into something resembling a wince. “I guess? I mean, I’m not good at handling these kinds of situations. I ordered macaroni and cheese at a restaurant the other day without bacon, but they brought it to me with bacon, and I’m a vegetarian, so I just… uh, I just didn’t eat,” he says, his cheeks flushing again. “I mean, I ate, but only the salad. But I was with my sister and she, well, she made them take the macaroni back and it was just so embarrassing so I told them not to worry about making any more — that I was fine with just the salad. So, anyway, I just try to avoid that kind of thing,” he finishes, finally, looking down at the floor.

“Were you? Fine with just the salad, I mean?” Ben asks, suddenly finding himself invested in this situation.

Arlo smiles and Ben notices his nose scrunches up in a way that’s almost endearing — cute even. It’s an odd thought to have because Ben doesn’t usually think about people like that — especially strangers. “Uh, no. No, I was actually quite hungry, and well, vegetarian options around here already aren’t that great. So, I really had been wanting the mac and cheese. But, I don’t know. I guess I panicked?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kind of do that sometimes. I’m not the best when it comes to dealing with people,” he says, that crooked smile and nose-scrunch returning. “I think I’ve made that abundantly clear today,” he says, laughing nervously.

Ben finds himself, despite the shittiness of the morning, smiling. “I think this failed social interaction is more the fault on my part than yours. I am the one, after all, who — and I hate to bring this back up, but it does seem necessary to do so — sneezed on your tea.”

Arlo laughs, his face lighting up in a way Ben, strangely, finds to be rather pleasant. The laughter is short-lived, however. Arlo turns his head to the side and holds a finger under his nose as if to hold back the obvious urge to sneeze. 

“HEH-g’nt g’nt g’nt g’nt gn’t gn’t g’nt! Hh Hgn’t GN’T! NgK’T!” 

Ben can't help but stare as Arlo became completely lost to the sneezing fit as his shoulders shake with each spasm. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anyone sneeze quite like that. Felix can stifle his sneezes, but he’s never seen Felix go that long with barely a breath between them.   

“Bless you!” Ben exclaims when it seems Arlo’s finally done. 

Arlo looks up and sniffles thickly. “Um, I really hate to ask, but do you have any, uh…” Arlo trails off, which Ben realizes he seems naturally inclined to do. 

“Oh, yeah! Let me grab some napkins,” Ben says, spinning around quickly. 

He holds out the napkins to Arlo, who takes them and immediately turns around facing an empty part of the coffeeshop. Ben shouldn’t be surprised — the guy was mortified to sneeze, so of course he’s going to be discreet about blowing his nose. Ben realizes, though, that either Arlo is blowing his nose profoundly quietly, or he’s not blowing at all, because there’s absolutely no sound coming from him. It occurs to Ben that, most likely, Arlo is only wiping his nose, though from the way his voice had sounded, it seemed he could benefit from an actual blow.

When he turns back around, the edges of his nostrils have visibly reddened. “Sorry,” he says, clutching his napkins. “Like I said — tail end of a cold. I’m fine, mostly. Just some sneezing, still.”

Ben huffs out an amused laugh. “Why are you apologizing? You just sneezed and blew your nose in literally the least disruptive way possible. And again — do I need to mention the incident with the tea? Because it occurred, like, one whole minute ago, so I don’t really think I need to, but if you think I do then —”

Arlo laughs. “No, no. No need to bring it up, again. I do remember.”

Again, Ben has one small hitch in his breath then he snaps forward in another sneeze. “HH-Ih’dzzzHHUE!” This time, though, he catches most of it with his arm. He blinks, then rubs his nose. “Ugh. I’m at, like, the head end of a cold, myself,” Ben says.

Arlo’s brows furrow. “The… the head end?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, chuckling. “Like, if you’re at the tail end, then I’m at the head end— as in, at the very beginning. Unfortunately,” he says, sniffling thickly. “I had been wearing a mask so that I wouldn't, you know, spread this lovely little thing around, but I took it off for a moment and forgot about it. So, your poor tea getting ruined was an unintended consequence of that decision, I’m afraid.”

“Ben?”

Ben startles at the voice, then realizes it’s Kenna. She gives him a pointed look, and Ben just now notices that more customers have been lining up while talking to Arlo as though this were a social occasion and not his literal job. 

“Sorry, I’m going to get this customer another tea. It, uh, it’s not any good,” he says, cringing at how ridiculous he sounds. He looks back at Arlo. “Sorry, I guess I kind of forgot I was working. But I’ll get you your tea now,” he says with a smile.

Ben puts his mask back on and remakes Arlo’s tea. He hands it to Arlo, who smiles softly before taking it. “Thanks,” he says. “Um, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Well, thank you,” Ben says with a wide grin. “And I hope this tea helps your throat. I’m guessing that’s why you ordered it?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m a teacher and I’ve taken the last few days off work, and I feel mostly okay, but I know as soon as I start teaching, my voice will abandon me entirely. So, I guess this is a futile attempt to keep that from happening?”

Ben isn’t going to tell Arlo that his voice seems to already be giving out on him with the way it’s cracking and dipping, and that he may want to play it safe and take another day off instead of using tea as a lifeline. He’s also not going to tell him how surprised he is to hear that Arlo is apparently a teacher. He seems much too soft-spoken and reserved for a job that demands standing in front of a room of people. So, instead, Ben simply smiles. There’s a moment where neither of them speak, and Ben has the odd compulsion to ask Arlo out. He’s not going to, of course. That’s not something Ben does. Also, he has no way to know if Arlo is interested in men. And more importantly, Ben doesn’t even know if he, himself, is interested in men. The fact that Ben felt compelled, at all though, is notable enough for him to ponder on. Dating — and all that comes with it — has never been something he’s felt especially inclined to do, regardless of the person’s gender.

Arlo also looks like he wants to say something, but instead he gives a quick, slightly awkward, smile. “I should head out now. So, I’m not late. Like I said, feel better soon and uh… try not to sneeze on anyone else’s drinks?” 

Ben notices Arlo seemed almost surprised at himself for making a joke, and slightly embarrassed by it. How can this guy be real? How can anyone be THIS cute in real life? Ben wonders to himself. “You feel better, too,” he says, while the nagging thought to ask Arlo out forces itself to the surface of Ben’s mind, begging him to verbalize it. Ben shoves the thought away. Arlo gives one last shy, little smile before he turns and leaves the coffee shop with his tea. 

Ben feels an odd sense of unease settle in his stomach as he watches Arlo walk off. Ben gives a quick shake of his head before returning to work, deeming the entire interaction to be, ultimately, inconsequential. Still, though, he can’t seem to entirely shake the inexplicable feeling that he’s letting something slip away from him. 

Part 2

[jalwyn21]

So there are multiple Swiftie accounts on Tiktok and Instagram that I found constantly insinuating how Joe might have cheated on Taylor based on the songs she wrote and based on Joe's former co-star instagram post (the one where he rode a green bike I think). My question is, do these people really can't process the possibility that their "queen" might be cheating too? And also according to them, co-workers posting a picture of another co-worker must be because they are romantically involved. What about the tons of men that Taylor has posted on her instagram before? Swifties are really trying so hard to do a smear campaign on Joe Alwyn with whatever bits of brain they have left in their head. I've noticed too that the popular Swiftie accounts with a lot of followers tend to post things slandering her past relationships (mostly the one with Joe) and overhyping her current relationship with TK. Which is also hilarious because I can remember very well that some of them are the ones who used to hype her relationship with Joe. Talk about hypocrites.

Also what's actually ironic (and quite amusing I must say) is now there are quite the amount of people (and that includes some Swifties too) that came to defend Joe in the comment section haha. And we can see that the OP didn't reply to any comments defending Joe because they don't want to agree with anything that is not borderline worshipper their "queen" 😂

The only one with a consistent history of cheating, or at least overlapping relationships is TS. She even brags about in her songs 🙄Can't believe this needs saying but coworkers posting a picture of another coworker is not cheating.. spending time with coworkers is not cheating..

Also those scooter pics were clearly taken months apart. Not only is Joe's scooter a darker colour but you can still see Christmas lights in her pic which makes sense for a December or January pic. There are no Christmas lights in Joe's pic, just the normal traffic lights, which makes sense for a pic taken in March. 🙄