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[sosouthernbeats]

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[rikosseen]

Husband!Goo who hurts himself deliberately as an excuse to be close to you, and because he’s an attention seeker. “Another fight,” he shrugs

Husband!Goo who plants the softest kisses on you when he thinks you’re sleeping

Husband!Goo who traces your palm, and fiddles with the ring on your finger, wondering how you two made it work

Husband!Goo who twists and turns late at night after an argument

Husband!Goo who desperately tries to win back your favour when he realises that he really messed up

Husband!Goo whose pretty privilege is not saving him this time

Husband!Goo who shamelessly displays PDA

Husband!Goo who’ll beg for you to participate in couple trends because he’s chronically online

Husband!Goo who photoshops everyone else to look uglier than him, just to win one compliment from you— and because his sense of humour is broken

Husband!Goo who spends a little too much time with you in the changing rooms when he’s buying you branded clothes

Husband!Goo who has his favourite sharp objects sprawled everywhere in the house in case anyone breaks in and tries to hurt his family. Not that his hands aren’t sufficient enough

Husband!Goo who knows nothing about personal space; always up and close to keep your eyes and body from wandering away from him. He despises your attention being stolen

Husband!Goo who jokingly flirts with someone else to make you jealous, only to be beat by his children under your command

Husband!Goo who asks for his boo boos to be kissed, only to get beat again by his kids because of how cringe he sounds

Papa!Goo who’s always the bad guy just because his kids say so

Papa!Goo who can’t help spoiling his little family

Papa!Goo who blames his farts on the little ones, and traps whoever’s annoying him under the blanket to suffer his toxic gas

[crushedsweets]

What’s bens story in ur au? I remember u saying smthn about it being different but i dont remember ahahjxkdnxjckcnc

this page on my website has the info! i copy and pasted his info under the cut! again, some stuff might have been changed since i wrote this in July 2023!

Ben was a young boy in the late 2000s. As a boy his age would, he was infatuated with video games and the Legend of Zelda series. He was able to buy the Majora's Mask game cartridge at a garage sale down the street. 

He befriended the man who sold it to him, not really keeping in mind 'stranger danger.' The man insisted Ben comes over to beat Majora's Mask with him, but his intentions were sinister. The man developed a completely deluded theory that he could insert himself into a virtual reality, and tested that on several victims who bought the same exact game cartridge from him. He drowned Ben in his bathtub after a fit of rage. Shortly after, he was arrested. Ben's soul, alongside many other victims of the man, was trapped in the cartridge he was drowned with. He wasn't reborn until a teen found and managed to fix the cartridge, in which Ben's soul was trapped in something akin to a computer virus. As Ben was the last victim, he held most of the control of the entity, but was not the only soul inside the 'body' he inherited. This leads to unclear motivations, an unsteady personality, and identity issues. He horrifically tormented kids and teens for a while, until Slenderman's proxies were tasked to 'tame' him. Ben eventually saw the proxies, especially Toby, as friends and lessened the severity of his hauntings. Of course, that wasn't an easy task, and took months of coaxing and luring him out through websites like Cleverbot. Ben refuses to completely drop terrorizing people online, but he's more of an 'internet troll' to mess his victims, unlike his previous habits of crawling out of screens to scare them. He will still occasionally do this to people on the dark web, only because he knows they can't often go to anybody about it. 

He generally spends a good bit of time online, both literally within computer systems, and stuck on a phone/computer. He eventually met Jeff on the dark web, who he befriended and acquainted with the proxies. He will occasionally help the proxies with erasing and altering CTV footage, corrupting files, and so on. He's the main reason Jeff is left alive, since Slenderman cannot physically maintain Ben and relies on keeping him content for help.

[pinkandgoldensoul]

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If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, online hate towards reader, insecurities, fluff, angst other notes: fake instagram things? Loosely based on Singapore GP 2022 word count: 10.1k (as always, feel free to use dividers to split the chapter into chunks!) A huge thanks to whoever reblogs or likes the story and a special thanks to @ally4and33 for her support in the last couple days! ♥ Love you all!

It felt soft. The light knocking on your eyelids, asking for permission with its warmth. As your entire body slowly moved, awakening, you snuggled up to the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders and enjoyed its coziness. Max’s smell still trapped onto the pillow, you smiled with eyes closed. He wasn’t there, but you knew he had been all night, cuddling with you and falling asleep; you still could feel his thumb repetitively rubbing your skin as he held you close and the beating of his heart lingered on your mind as a beautiful song that you play on loop, knowing all the lyrics. By heart. Waking up to those memories – real ones, this time – made your insides twist in a pleasant discomfort; you knew you weren’t mistaken, you knew Max had stayed over with you, holding each other, and you didn’t have to fear or mistrust your mind. You had snuggled and cuddled together, and nobody could doubt it. No drunk, slurred mental estate could put those moments at risk. You owned them, forever.

You looked over to the side, only to realize Max wasn’t lying next to you. You weren’t surprised, though; you figured he may have decided to go training, have breakfast or simply get up. Staring at the ceiling, you smiled: your nose didn’t feel as stuck as it was the day before and an unknown wave of positive, bright feelings earned you a decent dose of optimism. You probably had been needing it for quite a long time. «Good morning, y/n.» Max’s voice made your head snap up towards the door, and you actually would’ve preferred not to see him. That smile wrinkling his lips, his eyes brimming with light, his whole appearance blinding you way more than sun beams could ever manage to: everything about him enchanted you. «Morning,» you whispered, stretching a bit. «Slept well?» he asked, getting closer to the bed. «Really, really well.» you answered, uncapable of stifling in a huge smile. «Bet you did, it’s 11:30!» Max said, laughing. «You sleep in way more than I do, c’mon!» As you said that, you rolled over the bed, facing the pillow, and you felt the mattress sinking down onto your side due to Max’s weight. «I’ve bought you some medicine.» You eyed the small plastic bag he still held in his hands. «I think I’m doing better.» «Doesn’t mean you’ve fully recovered.» Max added. «I know, but-» «No, don’t even bother telling me you don’t need medicine because I’m not listening to you.» After a small pause, Max looked at you again, almost unsure. «Do you really feel better?» «Yes, still a bit sluggish, but I feel fine.» Despite the positives in your feedback, he couldn’t help but get stuck thinking about the negatives. «Sluggish? Maybe you have a little bit of temperature?» «I don’t think so?» Max rummaged into the plastic bag and took out a brand-new thermometer. «Why did you buy a new one?» you chuckled at the sight. «Because now this is your personal thermometer.» «Thanks…? Didn’t know I’d need a personal one.» you raised a brow, still amused. «Oh, but this is special, y/n. It will know everything about you.» You inspected the packaging thoroughly, trying to convince yourself it would, without really succeeding. «You can give a name to it, if you want.» «Max, it’s a freaking thermometer!» you laughed. «So what? It may get offended if you don’t. You know, it’s really sensitive.» As he cracked that lame joke, you glared at him. «Tell me you didn’t say that.» Max’s cheeks immediately squished upwards to make room for his mesmerizing and innocent smile, happy and giggling as a kid would do after making a mess. And you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning at him as well. «You’re so stupid…» «And now I’m sure you don’t have a temperature, because your heart’s stone cold. Poor thermometer.»

After a couple of minutes – and a lot of insisting – Max dragged you out of the bed so that you could have some breakfast-brunch-lunch-whatever you have before noon; then, he persuaded you to take some medicine to relieve the dizziness and you started to feel better. Max noticed your eyes got livelier and livelier as time passed by and it only encouraged him to suggest new activities, as he would’ve liked to spend all day talking with you, relaxing on the couch, or onto the bed watching a movie, but in his mind a whim, an urge, a need and, ultimately, a duty, called upon him. Getting ready for Singapore. He needed to come back to his other house to get some simulator work done, he was missing it; but how could he ask you to come with him and get bored all alone? Or if you decided to stay at the apartment, how could he leave you alone again? Max felt troubled at the way he had gradually become unable to accept the idea of you being on your own; it wasn’t a matter of trust, despite the latest events. He simply couldn’t let go of your soft hands, of your scent, of your lips curving into a beautiful smile, of your voice chanting him like a siren.

Sitting onto the bed, Max played with your hair, combining strands into a messy braid. So lost in the process, he didn’t even remember when and why he had asked you to let him do so. «Are you going for a loose braid?» you enquired, enjoying the slow-paced rhythm of his fingers working on your hair. «Yes, my specialty.» As he heard you giggling, Max felt his heart caving in. «When did you learn to braid?» «When I was seven. My mum taught me how to braid Victoria’s hair.» A fond smile immediately bloomed onto your lips, and you were lucky enough not to have Max in front of you, so that you could hide it. He had shared with you a few of his childhood memories before, and his sister’s name always came up, either because she was present or absent during his karting days; you could tell he really loved her and somehow still felt sorry for taking their father and himself away from her. He had also showed you some pictures, which had your heart melting in awe, though you’d try to dissimulate. Max was a loving person and you cherished every seed of affection he would plant along the way, just so you could grow even fonder of him. «Is it done?» you asked, as the weight of your hair leaned back onto your skin. «Yes.» With a quick motion, you brought the braid forward, onto your collar bone, and stared at it. Max sat back in front of you and got captured by the sun light shining through the window behind your back, reflecting its gold onto some rebel strands of hair, as a perfect frame to your face. Reacting way too late to your “Thank you”, Max stuttered, realizing he still had to tell you about his plan. Had he prepared one? Not really. But his instinct dictated it to him, spontaneously, as he started speaking to you. «Tomorrow I need to go back to the house and get done the training for the race and I was thinking you could come with me.» Your eyes immediately flicked to his, a glimpse of surprise flashing inside of them. «A-are you sure? I don’t want to bother you…» «I’ll be locked inside a room pretty much all the time, how could you ever disturb me?» he chuckled. As you pondered in silence, Max prompted you with all the activities you could undertake there and reassured you about getting proper medications if you still needed them, offering to be the one to go buy them. As he kept maxplaining in order to persuade you, you giggled and stopped his rambling. «Max, it’s okay. I’ll come.» you smiled. His face immediately lit up, and your chest ignited at the sight; without noticing, his fingers had reached yours onto the bedcover and they had shared a rush of electricity, of magic. Of complicity. Of… something. Something you couldn’t name, but definitely something sweet, warm, comforting and almost painful at the same time. #

«This is the room. Do you need me to show you the bathroom?» «No, we’ve been here a few days ago, I remember.» «Fine.» Max scratched his head. «I’m… I’m going to ask what’s for dinner.» «Okay… I’ll take out my toiletries, then.» «Perfect!» Max rushed out of the bathroom quickly, eaten alive by embarrassment. He’d been awkward in his life before and obviously had slipped up countless times, but after that little talk, a thin veil of uncertainty, hesitation and discomfort weighed down onto his cheeks as a fire, covering the skin with a soft blush and making his hands slightly clammy. Max hated not being in control of his heart drumming inside the ribcage, pleading to get out and reach its half; he hated his voice cracking or sounding insecure despite the attempts at dissimulating; and he also hated his mind running, racing on its own and replaying moments he’d prefer not to be reminded of while standing in front of you. Could he really blame his mind, though? After all, he had been the one to ask you to come back to the house where you nearly had kissed, nearly had hooked up, nearly had crossed the fine line between friends and not-just-friends; still, it was the place you had danced clinging to each other, got drunk together with smiles, whispers, fingers intertwining and shivers, cutting all the noise and everybody else out of your piece of heaven. All these memories were mere rings to a longer chain and the more Max tried to trail back to its beginning, the further it would get due to the new – old – images of you two together, packed inside the same untitled folder of his heart. The only partial relief was he wouldn’t be able to spend too much time with you due to the simulator training.

He wasn’t alone in his struggles, though. You avoided the reflecting surface of the mirror in which you had seen played forbidden fantasies only a couple days before, and as you turned around taking a closer look to the bathroom, you eyed the bathrobe you had worn, all your attention channeled towards those three letters on full display. Max. You recalled yourself freaking out in there, convinced you and him had slept together, then stealing the robe away without a second thought. When did it all become so overwhelming you would fall apart simply going back to those memories? You closed the cabinet with a firm thud: getting through the sudden closeness had never seemed so hard.

«Hello?» Slowly waking up, you tried opening your eyes. «Hi, Alice, what’s up.» It was Max speaking; his voice was distant, but still clear enough to hear it. «No, I’m awake. Why are you calling, though?» He seemed like he was in the room next to yours, at the phone with someone. «Hope it’s not a new media activity, we already have a lot this week.» Visualizing the floor plan in your head, you reasoned he was in his bedroom. «What? Is this a joke?» As Max’s tone raised, you couldn’t refrain yourself from eavesdropping a little bit more attentively. «But where did they get these numbers? Did they make them up? Unbelievable…» Numbers? Was he talking about simulation work? «Well, we could sue them for defamation. ‘Cause we’re fine, right?» Nope, definitely not simulation work. Your forehead hurt, and with those words dancing in your brain confusion inevitably grew. «Alice, can we please talk about this on Wednesday? Just tell me that other thing.» Hands rubbing tiredness out of your face, you sat onto the bed. «For fuck’s sake… Is it bad?» Feet barely touching the ground, you tried gathering energies to get up. «THEY SAID WHAT?!» But Max’s altered voice got you flinching, startled, frozen in place. «How do they dare? Write down all their names, because I’m not being interviewed by those assholes! Don’t get them near me! Fucking dickheads.»

With featherlike steps, heart thumping in your chest, you leaned against the door frame of Max’s room, trying not to disturb him and hinting at your presence at the same time. «No, we’re not discussing it now,» he said in a hurry, after noticing you were standing a few meters away. You unsurely walked towards him. «But I want this to be clear: I am deciding what to do, and I don’t want anybody else to interfere.» As Max abruptly ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket, only to look at you, the breath you were holding finally released. «Who was it?» you managed to whisper, full of doubts and uncertainty. Max, noticing your distress and able to read that little veil of sleepiness you hadn’t been able to shrug off your face, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, giving you a shy smile. «Alice Hedworth.» You raised a brow, in confusion. «The communications manager of the team.» he plainly answered. You looked down, recalling the quick-tempered replies he had given, then raised your eyes back at him. «Why would you have to sue people? What happened?» «Did you eavesdrop?» You gaped at him, feeling like a thief caught red-handed. «Uhm… It woke me up, so…» Max sighed. He’d rather not tell you, but he was aware it was inevitable for you to find out eventually, so there was no point in hiding it from you. Plus, there was probably nothing to worry about. Or at least Max hoped so. «Some journalists claim we breached the cost cap last year. They also say another team is involved, but of course, we’re the ones under the spotlight and now they’re complaining about how it’s unfair we won the championship, since we did it illegally, to their saying.» Max’s placid expression wasn’t able to instill reassurance in you. «But you guys are really fine?» «Of course we’re fine, they’re just coming at us because they cannot accept they’ve lost and scandal is the only way to bring us down at the moment, since their car can’t.» He slightly chuckled at his own comment, but again, it did nothing to calm your mind down. «How could they invent all of this? I mean, it’s a pretty big accusation, they must have some sort of proof in order to say it… How did they get numbers?» «I don’t know, I’m not an accountant. And you aren’t a detective, y/n.» Max said, smiling at you. «C’mon, let’s go have breakfast.» He was guiding you towards the kitchen with his fingers barely brushing against your lower back, when suddenly another thought crossed your mind. «What was the second thing?» «Uh?» he said, caught off guard. «You said you wouldn’t release interviews to some journalists.» you explained, taking a seat. He frowned. «You really paid attention to the conversation, didn’t you?» Max turned his back to you, grabbing two cups from the cupboard and hiding his reaction to the topic. «You don’t have to worry about it.» he downplayed. «Just paparazzi being annoying as always. But they’ll be taken care of.» You would’ve liked to pay more attention to the way his tone had subtly turned serious, suggesting bother and almost rage; the last bit of the sentence been spitted out of the mouth as a curse, in a lower voice, so that its darkness couldn’t reach you.

You should’ve known. You should’ve expected it to happen, sooner or later. It was bound to happen, you told yourself. After all, been dragged down the pitlane by one of the most famous drivers in the world under thousands of flashing cameras wasn’t really a gesture that would get anyone go unnoticed by the press. Of course, medias had gone crazy over those pictures taken in Monza, but the true bomb was dropped with the rumors of the probably-not-so-private party of last week. Suddenly, your name started to travel from mouth to mouth, even though nobody had ever acknowledged your presence before. You went from being a stranger to the Cupid’s arrow breaking into Max’s cold heart, the one who caused him and Kelly to argue and ultimately split, a mysterious girl no one knew who had unspecified intentions: clout? Money? Visibility? After all, you could’ve never gained those alone: you weren’t that beautiful. Kelly was way prettier than you; she brought a heavy and significant surname and was successful in her field. Who were you? A parasite? A gold digger in search of fifteen minutes of fame? A lot of people agreed on the fact that you definitely didn’t look like someone worthy of being pictured together with Max Verstappen. To be fair, nobody had prepared you for it anyway, but you couldn’t say Kelly hadn’t warned you.

The weather in Singapore was extremely humid; you couldn’t tell, though, if the sweat forming onto your skin was the product of the low atmospheric pressure or the fruit of being swamped and chased by a group of photographers, journalists and phones used as microphones, directly pointing at you like knives. It wasn’t a walk of shame; indeed, you couldn’t understand what was there to be ashamed of, you didn’t know what you were supposed to tell those people, and neither could guess what they expected to hear when there was nothing you had to say. Still, your gut sensed the hidden words and the secret turmoil you had to keep inside, paired up with the anxious oppression of the small crowd surrounding you, addressing questions at you, as you marched head-low towards Red Bull’s garage. «Are you the reason Max and Kelly Piquet broke up?» «How long has he been cheating on Kelly with you?» «Y/n, please answer some questions for us!» «How did you guys meet? When did your relationship developed into something more?» «Y/n, please, can you confirm the rumors about the party in Monaco?» «Can you tell us more about your family?» You abruptly halted your steps. Which family?, you bitterly said to yourself. Still lost in thought, you distinctly heard the clicks of a camera taking pictures. In that exact moment, you felt nothing more than a lifeless doll inside a lions’ cage: you weren’t a person anymore, you were just an object, without feelings and sensitivity, which had to withstand whatever they wanted to do to you or give them anything they tried to gain from you. Before rage could take the upper hand, you felt two hands dragging you away from the journalists. «It’s enough pestering for today.» You felt Carlos quickly grabbing your arms and guiding you towards the heart of the paddock, in order to leave all of them behind and preventing them from even daring to follow you. «I promise you the hospitality is a much quieter place.» he said, smiling. A veil of numbness, though, had washed emotions away from your face: reality had thrown an ice bucket at you, not only forcing you to face your inner chaotic magma of feelings, but justify the lack or the presence of them in front of the world as well. It was clear, you weren’t ready. You told yourself the timing of the news was absolute crap, unmerciful, cruel; if it had happened a couple months earlier, the situation would’ve been almost totally under control. Because you would’ve had nothing to control. «Don’t mind them, they’re going to drop it soon.» Carlos’ words momentarily distracted from your trail of thoughts, and you were glad they did. «Hopefully you’re right.» you sighed.

You both plopped onto a small couch in the living area, absentmindedly watching the tv hung on the wall. Sitting in silence, caught in your headspace, you didn’t notice the Spaniards eyes studying your expression. «So… Italy did good to the both of you, uh?» Carlos smugly looked at you. You rolled your eyes, kind of annoyed. «Stop it.» «I mean, now I get why you were so worried something happened at the party.» «Aren’t you supposed to help me relax?» «Isn’t it working?» Your furrowed eyebrows made your confusion clear. «No?» «I think it does. Now that you’re mad at me, you’re getting those journalists out of your head.» As a faint smile lingered onto your lips, a voice coming from the tv immediately caught your attention, drew your gaze, captured your undivided attention: Max’s. Seeing him suddenly lit up your opaque features, and Carlos noticed; unfortunately, he also witnessed distress and worry replace the fondness inside your eyes. You couldn’t bear the sight of it. No, as much as you tried to avoid it, there was an inner part of you that shattered in pieces while hearing journalists insinuating stuff without proof, implicitly – but not trying to hide it either – suggesting Max wasn’t worthy of being a champion, that the 2021 title had been robbed. Once again, his abilities and merits were questioned looking at parameters that didn’t include his outstanding performance and talent. And it hurt you; somehow, it hit close. When he had informed you about the rumors it didn’t seem that bad, or serious, or anything that could be real, to be honest; but everybody referred to it as a grounded certainty, a fact to deal with and, even before an official confrontation with the FIA, all cried scandal. Inside Max’s cold eyes, you read frustration and anger. You couldn’t stand it. So you stood up. «Y/n?» Carlos asked. You left the hospitality without adding a word.

Your feet automatically moved down the paddock with small and quick steps, trying to go as fast as they could. You didn’t cross eye with anybody, because the only person you wanted to see wasn’t walking in the crowd. There was un urge, a deep-rooted need to seek refuge in Max’s arms, unfold your distress and take out his, merge them together and let go of them. With fidgeting hands, you reached for your phone in the jeans’ pocket and called him. You had so many things to tell him; so many useless words to make sure he was doing okay, so many dreamed reassurances you wanted to give and be given back. Although he wasn’t picking up, you marched towards your destination until you finally saw Red Bull’s logo standing out onto the external wall of the hospitality. You were ready to approach the entrance, about to step onto the stairs and run inside, but someone sprung up in front of you warding you off with an arm. «Sorry, you can’t get inside!» This person from the team guided you a couple meters away from the door you desperately wanted to cross. You looked at her closely, and you saw a tag onto her Red Bull shirt. That Alice, uh? Now it makes sense. «What?» you simply asked. «You’re not allowed to get inside our hospitality, I’m sorry.» she quickly repeated, shaking her head. «But I need to talk to-» «Y/n, I’m sorry, but you can’t. I don’t know what Max told you, but we as a team have other problems to deal with at the moment and we don’t want rumors about you two to be on the list as well.» The stern expression she put on made you stand still, speechless, almost uncapable of reacting. «Also, you’re not allowed inside the garage throughout the weekend. As soon as the situation with the media gets better, you’ll be welcomed again, I promise.» «I just wanted to talk to him.» you whispered. She sighed. And she left. After exchanging a few words with people from the stuff – probably making sure they wouldn’t let you in – she disappeared inside the building, and with her all your hopes of relief.

«She can’t get near Max down the track, in the pitlane or here in the paddock, okay? Paparazzi are everywhere and they’re just waiting for those two to slip up again.» Alice spoke to some colleagues in the communication area with a peremptory tone; hearing heavy steps behind her, though, she immediately turned into ice. «Who’s slipping up?» Max asked, quickly taking a sip from his water bottle. Alice deeply inhaled, mastering the courage to confront him. «You and y/n, Max.» she replied, sharp. As your name was brought into the conversation, Max’s focus shifted completely on it. «What happened? Did you see her? Did you talk to her?» Alice, trying not to get intimidated by his pressing questions, kept her tough face on. «She came here to see you and I had to make her leave. There are too many eyes on you, and I’ve already told you this is an extremely delicate moment! Also, Kelly is involved, and we don’t need other troubles…» «But Kelly isn’t involved at all, this is only between me and y/n! And we’re not even together!» Max said, raising his voice in frustration. «Press doesn’t care about the truth, they just know what they can see! And they will try to dig deeper if you give them the opportunity to.» «So what? I can’t see her anymore? She isn’t going to come over to our garage for races?» Max asked, sarcastic. He probably expected Alice to match his sarcasm, but she hesitated, afraid to fuel his rage. Her silence, of course, did the exact opposite. «I told you it’s my decision! If I want to hang out with her, I will! You’re nobody to tell me who I can spend my time with!» «This isn’t meant to be against you, and you know it.» Of course not, he thought. It never is. They treated him like a little puppet for their PR content he didn’t give a shit about and expected him to accept restrictions on the people he could spend time with. His manager, approaching Max to calm him down, put a hand onto his shoulder. «Come on, Max, let’s go-» «What would you do if they asked you to stop hanging out with a dear friend of yours?» he asked Alice, gradually more uncapable of containing anger. «I’d do it, if it’s for the good of the team.» «But this only has to do with me! My friendships don’t involve the team!» «Yes, but YOU are part of the team! Guess what, for most you ARE the team, you represent it, and when they see you, they think of Red Bull!» «And do you think this is fair to me or to anyone else working in the team?» he replied, crossing arms. «Okay, Max.» Alice said, resigned. «Okay. If you don’t like it, you can call Christian and tell him yourself.» With that, Alice simply walked away: she had nothing else to add, since there was no one willing to listen.

Max didn’t waste any time. His steps echoed through the corridors – followed by his manager, who vainly tried to stop him – and constant loud thumps could be heard from quite a distance, causing a few employees to peek the head out of their office to check who was passing by. He didn’t even knock on the door; there wasn’t time for formalities, there wasn’t enough patience to calmly handle the situation. «Can we talk?» #

You sat across each other. You weren’t there. It was hard to explain, but you felt some kind of comfort in being surrounded by silence despite a crowd of people going back and forth as little ants. Despite Sebastian sitting in front of you, sternly staring at you. There was tension; composure, studying of movements, distance. And it magically dissipated, as Sebastian’s sigh erased the wall of unsaid words dividing you. «I’m sorry for treating you badly last time.» you casually said, not daring to cross eyes. A pause. You quietly reasoned which words to use next, although Sebastian prevented it by breaking his iced silence. «You don’t need to apologize. I could see something troubled you, and I’m pretty sure it still does.» He was met with an unmutated expression. «You can talk to me, if you need it. Whatever it is, I’ll try to help you.» Yet another shower of silence. He then insistently searched for your eyes. «You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with all the media pressure. I’ve been there before, and I’ve learned how to deal with it.» «That’s not the problem.» you said, reluctant, diverting gaze. «Okay. Then what is it?» he persisted. Yeah. What was it? The press asking you about your private matters or them hinting at a romance affair which was non-existent, to your dismay? Was it the fact that you wished it was real and actually had to hide something, instead of fighting feelings you desperately tried to conceal and repress in front of anybody, Max and you included? «Or I’d better ask… Who is it?» Sebastian’s words had you like a deer caught in the headlights. «Guess Max is still the deal, right?» he inquired again, leaning his elbows onto the coffee table. «Yeah.» you hummed, mostly to yourself. «Do you like him?» Seb slightly smiled at it. «I don’t know. I mean, I think so, but- It’s probably just me, it’s not worth ruining our relationship.» you rambled. «Who said you are going to ruin the relationship?» Seeing Sebastian put a skeptical face, you swam in your own insecurities: the amount of paranoia you’ve been dealing with in a week made your head hurt, and for a second the clouds darkening your mind got away thanks to Seb’s light of reason. You would reflect upon it in another moment, though: the weekend already seemed difficult even after putting aside your emotions, and you clearly weren’t in a position to gamble. «I can’t afford to lose him.» you then stated, staring at the sky still lost in thought. «Trust me, Max won’t let go of you that easily. He really enjoys your company, you’ve got nothing to fear.» Sebastian smiled. You tried to do the same, but you told yourself you would’ve liked to be as confident as he was.

Max didn’t like losing. Not that hard to figure out, some would say. But it was a trait which he kept also off the track; there was something so confident and assertive in the way he would speak his mind, express his opinion, a sort of determination stemming from dead-certainty and belief. And Max had just conquered a small win, after all. You weren’t allowed to enter the Red Bull garage, but he had managed to convince Christian Horner to let you stay in the hospitality. «But I don’t want her to be here tomorrow and on Sunday, understood?» Christian asked, making sure Max wouldn’t take advantage of it. Max nodded, despite not being fully satisfied yet; after texting you to come over and seeing you enter the hospitality, though, a bright smile immediately spread over his lips, as he immediately searched Alice’s eyes to catch her reaction and enjoy it. She crossed her arms and simply walked away, visibly annoyed. At the same time, Max saw you getting closer with a cheerful appearance: without even thinking twice, his arms were ready to welcome you in a hug. «Thank you.» you murmured as you parted. Looking at you, Max couldn’t restrain a thought: winning had never tasted so sweet. #

«So many corrections, right?» «Yeah… I lost the count of all the times I was about to hit the wall!» Max and Charles having a little debrief after the first sessions of free practice was an established tradition no one ever really complained about. The two of them were walking inside the paddock, heading towards the hospitalities, and the discussion gradually shifted from track conditions to simply catching up with each other. Charles was quick to notice way more cameras than usual were pointing at them; he hadn’t really paid attention to the rumors, so he felt naturally weirded out by the sudden interest. «Is it just me or is everybody following us?» the Monegasque lightly chuckled. «Yeah, seems like it.» Max brushed off. «Did I do something?» Charles asked, utterly oblivious to the situation. «No, they’re here for me, don’t worry.» They stopped a couple meters before Red Bull’s entrance, but before splitting, Max stepped in. «I still haven’t apologized for how I treated you the morning after Zandvoort. So, uhm, I’m sorry.» Charles squinted, thinking hard, then let out a “Ah!” after successfully remembering the situation. «Don’t worry, I noticed there was tension between you and y/n. It’s fine.» As Charles added a smile to the sentence, a laughing filled the air and made the two drivers turn their heads: they saw you getting out of the hospitality playing and laughing with Sergio’s wife and, in particular, with her children. You had spent time with them and watched free practice together, and now that it was time to say goodbye. Exiting the door, you immediately perceived stares on you and couldn’t help but cross them. As you and Max made eye contact, a spontaneous and traitor smile appeared onto your lips, making Charles slightly spying on Max’s expression to observe his reaction. Acknowledging the newly relaxed atmosphere between the two of you, he didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him a little. «Did she already recover?» «Yes, almost fully.» Max answered, as they saw you discretely blow your nose. «She’s doing a lot better.» «And you’re both doing better, I see.» Max was about to look at him and reply, tell him off or something, but he wasn’t able to divert gaze as you gently tousled Sergio’s son’s hair, a fond and amused look in your smiling eyes. Charles’ goodbye reached his ears delayed, and Max got lost staring at you, in awe, his heart twisting in affection.

On Saturday, things didn’t get better. Max had texted you to ask if you’d like to have breakfast with him outside of the paddock before the third session of free practice, so that the team couldn’t have anything to scold him for. You had gladly accepted. You dressed up, combed your hair and pulled the door behind you as you got out; inside the lift, you felt a light comfort since you were about to spend some time with Max again. But no, things weren’t supposed to get better. In fact, as you tried to get out of the hotel, you were stopped by the presence of a bunch of journalists waiting outside the hall glass door. Do they care that much about me?, you wondered. You stood still, hands closed into cold-sweat fists, unable to take a decision. A voice inside of you told you not to pay attention to those jerks and to fiercely make your way past their ignorance; silence would kill their loudness. However, there was a gut feeling you couldn’t ignore, pleading you not to enter the lions’ den, because you simply wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. Paralyzed by fear, you retraced your steps.

Pushed the door, took your shoes off and passed a hand through your hair, breathing deep. There was nothing to freak out about. You got closer to the window and peeked down the street: they were still there. That’s normal, you thought, they were there a few minutes ago. You swallowed. You noticed your mouth had gone dry. Was it dry when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing multiple times, you realized it still hurt a little bit. Did it hurt when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. You quickly took your phone out and texted Max. “sorry, I don’t feel good, I’m not coming” Had you just made up an excuse so that you didn’t have to show up? You couldn’t tell. You sent the text, then threw the phone onto the covers in distress. You peeked down the pavement once more: they were still there. Nothing to freak out about. You picked up your phone from the bed once again and did something you had never done, something you shouldn’t have, but that your irrationality reckoned as a good idea. Scrolling social medias to read what they had said about you. To your surprise, you found several debatable Instagram pages which posted stolen shots of you and Max. The most frequent attribute either one of you was given was “traitor”, oftentimes written in full capital letter onto your faces. The real cruelty, though, was stored in the comments section.

No need to freak out.

You run back to the window, your breaths picking up the pace as you noticed they were still there, still fucking waiting for you in order to assault you like a prey. You shut down the blinds, closing off the rising sun’s beams, drowning in the darkness. The phone, which you had let fall back onto the bed again without noticing, vibrated with a muffled sound. “Thought you were doing better…?” Knees gradually gave in under your shaky body, crawling on the floor with your back against the wall. “I thought that too”, you slowly typed. In that moment, your throat tickled and made you cough so hard you hoped to spit out the anguish’s knot in your stomach, emptying your body from the very bottom and finally getting rid of that discomfort. Before you had time to process it, coughs turned into sobs and a few ugly tears hid around your eyes, making your skin sting and burn. #

Sick. «What’s that pout, Max?» You had got better so fast, you’d had no problem for days… How come you were sick again? To be fair, Max easily guessed illness had nothing to do with it. «No, nothing.» Something was up yet another time. He knew you would avoid in any possible way further exposure, minimize the risk of being caught together and troubling the both of you. And this drove him mad. He couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions: he’d always had to fight against prejudices and poor thinkers, sailing the sea throughout major shitstorms, and he had learned how to handle the pressure from a very young age. He was used to it. But you weren’t. And he was aware. Though, he wished you would stop being so conditioned and influenced by other people. «Then put your helmet on, it’s almost time to go.» Lambiase’s voice brought him into the present, awakening the sounds of fervent mechanics bent over the car, the noise which had made him zone out in the first place. #

Vox media. A vox media is a word that has a neutral meaning per se, but can carry both a good and a bad one; it’s like a medal, with its two faces, both brought into the table whenever the term is mentioned. It’s funny how the chances of getting the wrong message it’s almost non-existent… Well, the context usually clarifies it. There are words that can only have good or a bad meaning in a specific situation. And as a driver, in the middle of your last flying lap of the last session, knowing the checkered flag is getting closer and closer and so is the adrenaline for a conquered pole position, taking all the possible risks you can in a street circuit, searching for grip in every single centimeter of asphalt, there’s probably only one thing you don’t want to be told. «Box, Max! Box, box, box!» «Why? What the… why?» A stab amidst the chest. This is what those words felt like for Max, leaving him breathless for a second, as his focus broke and fury took its place. «What the fuck!? What the fuck! What are you guys saying?!» They left him yelling in frustration on his own, keeping silent; but Max needed answers. «I don’t get it, what the fuck is this about?» «I’ll explain once you’re out, Max.»

As Max parked the car for the FIA to check it, his eyes flicked to the side: flashes got his attention, and a group of cameramen run towards Red Bull’s pit wall to picture their failure. And it was in that moment he finally realized how all the pressure the media had kept on the team had pushed the system to crumble like a house of cards, making them get stuff wrong with his car and preventing him from delivering as he was about to do. Did he really wanted to be filled up with crap excuses for their mistake? No. He had obliged to whatever they had instructed him to say in interviews about the cost cap, and they had thought banning you from the paddock would solve their problems. It clearly hadn’t. Max got out of the car and removed his helmet in a hurry: GP tried to hold him back, to no avail. He had already gone past him, not sparing a glance.

Max marched towards the hotel. The sweat clung onto his skin like a suffocating veil, and his frustrated rage certainly didn’t help getting rid of it. He passed the back of his hand on the forehead. He was on the edge. All because of the team fucking up his qualifying, the team who was in everybody’s mouth for the cost cap scandal, the team who had decided to get you away from him for PR reasons. His mind was filled up with racing thoughts, but one thing was extremely clear: he was fed up with all of it. There wasn’t any tolerability left; he would’ve stripped himself naked and run to you undressed, if that would get those paparazzi and “journalists” out of the way. Out of his way, out of yours.

Entering the building, the receptionist didn’t even manage to address him with practiced polite words, since Max simply sped right past him, thinking his racing suit would serve as a sufficient introduction.

He knocked onto your door with such a force you jumped, startled, still sitting in front of the tv in shock for the mishap. When you opened to him, your shock grew even bigger. Max didn’t give you time to react and stormed into the room as soon as there was enough space for him to sneak inside. You turned and followed his restless pacing back and forth, mouth still agape for the surprise. «Max, what happened?» you tried to ask, but the words came out with a shaky voice. «No fuel.» he replied, closing off the blinds to unwanted attention. «I… I’m so sorry… But I’m sure you’ll have the pace tomorrow! And- and there might be a safety car! Anything can happen during the race…» Rummaging through your mind in search of words of comfort, you stared at Max, who was giving you his back. He nervously passed a hand through his hair, as his chest started rising and falling quite fast. Why did he get there? It wasn’t your fault, and neither could you turn back time or change the situation. What was he searching for? What did he expect, what did he want from you? In a fraction of second, Max turned around and he immediately got the answer. You felt your wrist been pulled, while your bodies crashed together onto each other, molding together, melting, clinging. You could hear and feel onto your skin his hot, heavy and shortened breaths, as Max’s face nestled against the crook of your neck. It was so quick you didn’t see it coming; it was so natural you didn’t even try to avoid it. Because it simply felt appropriate and right to let Max loosen the embrace enough to stare at you and then quickly closing the gap, leaning in for a kiss. Hands full of your skin and lips dancing heatedly onto yours, Max understood: this was what he came there for. He hadn’t been able to resist without you, especially after the pressure he had withstood. He had needed you so bad. You couldn’t rewind time and prevent mistakes from happening, of course; but there was a lot you were able to do by simply standing on his side, smiling, encouraging him and checking up on him, things he had terribly missed. He just couldn’t stand the idea of you watching him from a screen, miserable, not even daring to put foot into the paddock in fear of people halting you and asking you inappropriate, nosey questions. And as his hands firmly held your head, perceiving the skin underneath them emanating warmth acted as a foot stomping on full throttle: suddenly, he needed to feel your body even closer, despite your faint attempt to regain breathing space gently pushing on his chest, and his tongue asked for permission to deepen the kiss, slowing down the rhythm only to make it more intense. Max had lost control since jumping out of the car, but he hadn’t realized; and even after running to you with his suit still on, ignoring every person around him, knocking on your door and kissing you out of the blue, then getting all worked up, no, he still hadn’t managed to notice. But your hands, still pressed down onto his chest, eventually splitting you apart… Yes, they were the ones to break the spell. The bitter cold that hit him as your body got away from his hold felt like a slap straight to the cheek. He sobered up, all at once, unable to speak or say anything now aware of his actions. On the other hand, you didn’t even know what had pushed you to move away: in fact, a part of you immediately regretted it. Out of breath, you vainly tried to come up with an explanation, some sort of defense, and quickly acknowledged your guards had completely fallen apart as soon as Max had crossed the threshold. «I didn’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.» Max said, clearing his throat, visibly embarrassed. «No, Max, I…» You what? You didn’t know, you couldn’t state it openly; was it a problem telling him or admitting it to yourself? Was it his unreadable expression making your hands clammy? Or was it him walking away defeated and disappearing as quickly as he had into the room? #

You tossed and turned under the covers, willing yet unable to find peace of mind: Max’s touch still lingered onto you, pervaded your senses and couldn’t brush him off your thoughts. You wished you had stopped him from leaving you in such a confused state; in fact, you wished you hadn’t stopped him at all in the first place. That kiss had felt like heaven: unexpected, unplanned, sudden, so that your heart sank into your chest; urgent and needy, as you were, even after not seeing each other for less than twenty-four hours; casted with tenderness, because it had stemmed from a comforting embrace; burning of desire, incomparably more passionate than whatever you had been able to imagine in your dreams after the party. Had it been another dream? Did you fall and hit your head? You sat straight up and pinched your cheek, scared to be living a lucid, feverish fantasy. It stinged. It was real. You crushed back again onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling and sighing. He had kissed you first. He had run to you, crossed the darkness of the night with his hair still sweaty only to kiss you and walk away. You wanted to torture yourself with how it wasn’t possible for you to love each other, but the only thing you could wonder with a smile written on the heart was whether Max had enjoyed it as much as you did. Above all the pictures journalists could’ve taken, opposed to the previous occasions, you told yourself you would’ve liked having been caught this time. Just to have a proof for your unreasoned happiness.

After unsuccessfully attempting at falling asleep, you had sent a text to Charles, asking him if they could have you inside the garage for the race. There was no way you would manage to lock yourself into the room, staring at the tv and watching Max doing everything he could to win the race and, possibly, the championship as well. Charles, a born gentleman, said yes despite being conscious of the extra spotlight the team would have to face.

You were surprised – and pleased – to see that nobody was waiting for you out of the hotel; strange, you thought, but people had probably got bored and tired of standing, and they decided not to harass you on Sunday. How kind of them.

Sitting with headphones in your hands, you watched the rain fall, mindlessly fidgeting with the wire. «Here you are, the star of the moment!» Charles chirped, taking a seat right next to you. «Y/n, an interview, please!» said Carlos, mocking one of the pleading journalists he had saved you from on Friday. You threw an annoyed glance at both. «I can still leave.» you threatened with a smile. «Oh, but you won’t.» Carlos confidently said, putting a pair of sunglasses on. Charles, amazed, eyed his teammate. «Carlos, you’re such a fashion icon!» «Tell me something I don’t know yet.» the Spaniard boldly replied. «Uhm… It’s raining and you don’t need sunglasses?» you asked, skeptical. Carlos let out a sigh in fake annoyance. «These aren’t for the sun.» he indicated them. «It’s a filter for all the bullshit you’re going to feed us with after we’ve asked you what we want to ask you right now.» He then turned towards Charles, who stared at him trying to telepathically read into Carlos’ head. «What… what was the question?» he whispered, still looking intensely at him. Carlos, flipping his head towards you, bore his eyes – well, definitely his sunglasses – at you with a knowing smirk. «Y/n.» «Yes…?» «I’m not getting in the car if-» «He’s not getting in the car!» Charles repeated after him, impressed. «Yes. I’m not getting in the car unless you tell me what the heck is going down between you and Max Emilian Verstappen.» Silence filled the air, as Carlos nodded in gloating and Charles shook his hand uttering a “Such a good question, mate”. After the little scene, they both turned to you at the same time. «So?» Carlos urged. «I… I don’t know what you want me to say!» you said, embarrassed. «Well, you could start with explaining what you were doing last night in the same room.» «How do you kno-» «Someone from the Ferrari stuff was down the corridor and saw you opening the door to him.» Charles confessed. Still a little bit mad about your privacy being violated, or better, about your vulnerability being exposed, Carlos pressed you even further. «Don’t you trust us? Charles, y/n doesn’t trust us.» he said, sad and offended.

You deeply inhaled, desperately trying to master the courage and tell them so that you could be over with it, but words died before you would even shape them. Charles, noticing how difficult it was for you, had an idea. «Carlos, why don’t we take a guess? And whoever loses, must stay five seconds under the rain?» «And the winner?» «The winner… The winner wins a hot chocolate!» Charles said, his eyes searching for confirm in yours. «Fine.» you breathed out. «Okay, I go first.» Carlos eagerly said, sitting on the edge of the seat. «You… you cuddled onto the bed!» «How sweet!» Charles chuckled. You shook your head, in denial, whispering “No, I’m sorry.” It was Charles’ turn, now; he leaned forward, forearms onto his laps, trying to read your eyes. Uneasy, your pupils flicked right and left in search of relief. «You kissed.» As he spoke those two words, a sudden cloud of warmth burned your limbs, awakening them from their sleep: your heart beat faster, your lips slightly parted in surprise and a pink flush tinted your cheeks. «You kissed!» Carlos yelled, jumping onto the seat, as if everything had become clear. Unable to sustain their astonished expression, you looked down. «It’s not something to be ashamed of.» Charles immediately tried to lift off your embarrassment. «It’s all wrong… I mean, all of this, we shouldn’t-» You stopped talking as you felt a hand touch your shoulder: it was Carlos, this time addressing you with a serious face. «Did you like it?» «Carlos…» «Did you like it, y/n?» «Yes, I did.» you whispered.

Feeling small in your chair, you hid the palms of your hand under your laps, still self-conscious. «I don’t know if he liked it…» «Bet he was the one to go for it.» Charles quickly jumped in. Yes, he had been. And the mere idea confused you even more, made your heart flatter and do somersaults inside your chest. «…But even if he did, we can’t go out or something, with all the hate we’re receiving. The team would never allow it.» «Y/n, listen.» Carlos began, addressing you. «After a qualifying session like the one he had yesterday, no driver would’ve crossed the city to leave a meaningless peck on a friend’s lips. He likes you and you like him, so there’s no need to overcomplicate things because of your fears when it is that simple.» «It scares me.» you whispered, still deep in thought. «I’ve got so much to lose…» Charles softly smiled, then cleared his throat to gain your full attention. «Imagine to be an f1 driver in qualifying: it’s Q3 and you just have one shot to set the pole. There isn’t time to be careful or afraid, you must send it, even if it means you have to take risks.» «Yeah, you gotta send it!» Carlos said, in excitement. «You get nothing for nothing, y/n.» «Guys, I’m not a racing driver.» you laughed. «But you’re going to be together with one of the best out there, so you need to gain some courage!» Charles, not satisfied with the discourage written over your face, tried to persuade you a bit more. «You will probably confront about it pretty soon anyway, and I think you should tell him how you feel. If you don’t, you would both miss out on an amazing relationship.» Uncapable of sustaining the serious atmosphere for so long, Carlos broke the short silence that followed Charles’ words. «Nah, would they really? I don’t think Max deserves it.» Saying so, Carlos took his glasses off and put them back into the pocket. «I’m getting emotional… Our little y/n has grown up so much, Charles…» he turned to him, «She’s about to have a boy now.» «And what a boy, Carlos!» the Monegasque chuckled. The three of you shared a laugh; as you watched them jokingly bicker, you couldn’t help but think you were lucky to have such amazing people to support you, despite them being famous and busy any time of year. Charles, feeling your eyes onto him, stared at you with a brow raised, as you seemed about to say something. «Thank you.» You both smiled at each other. «Oh, don’t thank me, y/n. You owe me a hot chocolate, after all.» Charles said, «And you have to go under the rain, Carlos.» «No, I don’t! It’s not fair!» he protested. «You gotta send it, Carlos!» you told him, Charles laughing uncontrollably at your joke. «You’re lucky I’m a gentleman.» he replied, raising his pointer finger at the two of you.

No one was surprised to find a tensed atmosphere around Red Bull’s staff. People had tried to dig deeper into the cost cap story to see things clearer, pointing at the team and angrily accusing them of cheating “once again”. Max let it all rain down, wash the frustration away from him and erase the grip from the track at once. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t make sense of his escapade; he had overstepped any boundary and completely disregarded any resolution he had set for himself. The “fine line” has been crossed and there was no making up for it. «Like the rain?» Max peeked over his shoulder and saw Daniel approaching. «It’s relaxing.» he then answered. The Aussie nodded and stared intensely at him, then looked out the window as Max did. «Do you remember the morning after the party?» Daniel abruptly asked. «In the kitchen?» «Yes.» «Uhm, yeah, there was Carlos as well.» Max recalled. «Right.» he paused a few seconds before carrying on. «Before you got up, I talked with him a bit and he told me a few things about y/n.» Daniel knew he had perked Max’s interest as he felt a pair of eyes watching attentively, and couldn’t stop a grin. Max, thrown off by his behavior, sighed annoyed. «If you’re joking, this isn’t funny.» «I’m not.» Daniel replied. «Carlos said y/n was freaking out because she’d had some kind of dream about you two but couldn’t tell whether it was some blurred memory or her subconscious messing with her in hangover.» «What was the dream about?» Max found himself whisper. «I don’t remember exactly. But you can ask her.» Daniel, pleased by his reaction, looked at him. «Carlos told me y/n likes you.» Those words sent electricity through his fingertips and awoke his heart, which beat faster: Max felt caught by feelings he couldn’t control nor understand, and they took over him to the point he couldn’t stop himself from releasing them. «Dan, I kissed her.» Max blurted out, confessing. Daniel goggled at him. «At the party?» he asked, surprised. «No, yesterday. After qualifying.» Silence. Max scratched his neck, nervous, itching everywhere, the same electricity travelling onto his skin. «Dan, I don’t know why I did it, and… and I don’t know what to do, because at first she seemed to be okay with it but then she pushed me away! I have no idea what’s going on…» Daniel flicked his eyes to the side before inching closer to him, so that nobody else could hear what he was about to say. «Max, I know you’ve just broken up with Kelly and that it might be too soon to say, but have you, like… considered you could’ve fallen in love with y/n?» The dam of his heart’s lake fell apart and a waterfall of emotions poured down as the rain did outside the window. Needless to say, Max’s awareness of his feelings for you hid under the thick layer of unconscious knowledge, and being exposed to it upset him greatly. «Guys, it’s time to race!» they heard someone say, probably some engineer from Red Bull or McLaren passing by. «It’s showtime.» Daniel said, nudging Max.

You watched the race from the Ferrari garage, once again, and it was even more nerve-wracking than usual, as yellow flags followed one another. Your eyes were vaguely paying attention to the images onto the screen, but your heart was constantly searching for Max’s position, and when a massive lock-up brought him in a run-off area and forced the team to pit, you were caught by an indescribable sadness, since the championship title was inevitably postponed.

Walking down the pitlane, hiding yourself from indiscreet eyes with some of the Ferrari merch Charles had given you as a camouflage, you saw an orange suit waving towards you. «Daniel! Congratulations for p5!» you said, grinning at him. «Oh, thanks.» he replied, a bit absentmindedly. His answer left you a bit dumbfounded: after such a good result for the team – with Lando in p4 – and for himself as well, you expected to see a glimpse of happiness in him. Then you reasoned he had just got out of the car, drenched in sweat and physically worn out. «Are you okay? Do you need some water?» you asked, not able to read his expression, eyes gazing far behind you. In fact, Daniel was tired, but his poor reaction was due to focus: he was searching for someone down the pitlane, and that person was Max. The Dutch had asked him to detain you in the middle of the post-race crowd so that he could confront you and talk to you without leaving the track (as the team had ordered him, after the latest events).

Max had run to the weighing to be one of the first drivers on queue and had jogged back to the garage to drop the helmet; he was so impatient to reach you, despite not being sure of what to tell you exactly. Maybe he simply wanted to see you and have you close. Easily getting rid of his PR assistant – since she was too caught up speaking with Sergios’ – and lowering the cap’s visor in hope of going unnoticed, he fiercely walked with eyes scanning left and right, and when he finally spotted the two of you, every step was lighter, as he felt closer to finally break free and disclose his hidden feelings. «Max!» Or maybe… not yet. «Max, stop!» Alice’s voice halted his wide strides; Max turned around, livid, and he would’ve lashed out at her if only he hadn’t seen the worry covering her face. «Take a look here!» she said, handing him the phone.

What's wrong with this instagram story, you ask? Oh, nothing. Simply sets up half of the drama planned out for next chapter. (I can't believe next chapter could be the last one, don't wake me 'cause I don't wanna leave this dream)

AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Eight

FLOGGING / SWALLOWING / COCK WARMING (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: When the pair of you end up trapped in an online meeting, Maxwell comes up with a perfect way to keep you entertained.

Rating: Mature-ish

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, P in V (there’s no sex but please use protection in real life, thank you), cock warming

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Notes: Ok, so this is a little modern day setting and is more of a representation of if Maxwell was big CEO.

Being called into Maxwell Lord’s office was a regular occurrence. Though you were considered an intern, you did plenty for him. Your job description only included his admin and screening his calls, a minimum of two coffee runs a day.

On your first shift, he told you not to be nervous and that only made you more so. He was patient with you unlike any other of his staff, your colleagues said that maybe he actually liked you. Two weeks in, Maxwell insisted you buy yourself a drink on the company card to accompany his triple shot espresso.

“I dunno what he sees in you,” a colleague said, looking you up and down.

Fortunately, you didn’t see it either.

You noticed how all the other women dressed in the Black Gold offices. Sheer shirts and blouses, skirts that cinched them in at the waist, heels with the highest stilettos possible. You chose to go minimal and comfortable, your smallest shoe a kitten heel.

It wasn’t long until you elevated your wardrobe, adding a touch more makeup to your routine but not too much. You still looked like yourself and Maxwell’s eyes continued to follow you while you worked.

There were many reasons why Maxwell liked you. He secretly thinks he shaped you from the shy, softly spoken girl to the confident woman you had become. You were well mannered, forceful if you needed to be, always got his lunch order right and to put the cherry on top, weren’t vying for his attention.

However, it only made you more desirable.

You had noticed how he took care of you, most of all at the office party. A guy from accounts wouldn’t stop harassing you, you shrugged him off but he wouldn’t let it go. When you went to leave, he followed you until Maxwell caught up with him.

You never saw him again.

Part of you knew he had been fired, that Maxwell wouldn’t have stooped so low as to get his goons to beat him to death, you wished he had though.

“Thank you, Mr Lord.”

“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered and he loved nothing more than to see that proud smile on your lips, your back straightening.

For months after that, the sexual tension seemed to rise between Maxwell and you. You knew it was wrong to have a crush on your boss yet his energy was magnetic.

How his lips curled when you came into his office to place his coffee on his desk, how he nodded happily as you ran off a list of all the names you politely told to fuck off. How you warned him that his wife had magically appeared at reception and how you pulled every trick to make him disappear.

Then there were the other moments, the ones where his eyes darkened when you made a cheeky comment. The ones where he leaned back in his chair and allowed you to willingly berate him, a smug smile plastered on his face knowing he’d been bad. All the times he’d caught your gaze when he ran a broad hand through his dyed golden locks and it’s like he felt your pussy clench.

You’d imagined all the ways you’s let him have his way with you. You always wondered how good you’d look with your tits pressed against the cool glass of his desk when he fucked you from behind.

“I’m just popping out.”

He interrupted your daydreaming.

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” He retorts, taken aback.

You wouldn’t normally but you had to put your foot down on this occasion.

“Mr Agraste has been wanting this meeting for months and I’ve run out of excuses. He’s sent me an email two times a day for the past three weeks, you are having this meeting whether you like it or not.”

It was clear to him that you were at the end of your tether. Yet he knew how fucking boring this was going to be, it was going to be all about figures and profits and money, money, money. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to do it alone.

His look of alarm dropped, his lips curling.

“Then I need you to sit in.”

Your nose scrunched, “What?”

The smug expression grew as his eyebrows raised into his unnaturally blonde hairline.

“I need someone to take notes.”

Take notes?

You questioned whether you needed to show him, yet again, how to hit the little red button on the screen to record it.

“Since when?”

“Since thirty seconds ago.”

He gave you a childish grin.

You hum, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You can use mine.”

The phone vibrating in his pocket snapped him out of the trance he was in. Maxwell and you had been in this meeting an hour and already, he was losing the will to live. He switched off his camera to look at the message, eyes glancing to you as you tapped your notepad with a pen.

This could have been an email.

You smiled sweetly.

“Fancy a little pick me up?”

Part of you was hoping he’d offer you his finest liquor to help loosen off your aching muscles but instead, he pulled on a cupboard and out rolled a coffee machine.

“Why do I always go out and get you coffee when you’ve got that in there?”

“The coffee you get is better.”

That and he liked to see you deliver it to him, the way you walk in those kitten heels and the new pencil skirt you bought.

“How much longer do you think this is gonna be?”

He shrugs, “Another half hour.”

“Jesus Christ,” you say, stretching your back before standing up.

“Why, have you got somewhere to be? Someone to meet?”

Maxwell knew he was prying but he didn’t know your situation and he needed to know if chasing you was a bad idea. He had taken too many of those.

“No,” you giggle, “just don’t know how much more I can take.”

He places a cup on his desk, in front of your seat.

“We could make it interesting.”

“How so?”

You’d wandered over to his floor to ceiling window, watching the ant sized people and matchbox cars go about their day. When you glance over your shoulder, he noticed how you fluttered your eyelashes in curiosity.

You were warned by your parents when you applied for this job. Maxwell Lord had a reputation, he had done adverts on yachts with scantily clad women, the he was more than likely to hire you if you were female. Then there was the whole Dreamstone palaver that literally the whole world knew about.

They were right in some parts yet he had plenty of beautiful woman roaming his office halls, why the fuck would he choose you?

“What did you have in mind?”

You couldn’t deny that he’d peaked your interest.

“If my observations are correct, I’d say you like me.”

He watched how your body stiffened but he’d seen how you appeared flustered when he caught you looking. Sometimes he knew you weren’t even focusing on his face, there were other aspects of him that caught your attention.

“Maybe… but I’ve heard what people say about you.”

He smiles, “The one where I’m a ladies man when I’m actually a divorcee who hides from her whenever she turns up at my doors.”

You nod faintly, that was true.

“So why do you only hire women?”

“I haven’t chosen who works here in years and there are men, you know.”

“But you have so many women to choose from.”

“And I’m choosing you,” he tips his head to the side. “If you want me.”

Your stomach does a somersault, everything now depended on you and you tried not to have any second thoughts before giving your response.

“You still didn’t answer my first question.”

“How about a way that we can both sit comfortably.”

It was cryptic but something in you couldn’t say no.

Within minutes, you found yourself downing your drink before taking a seat on Maxwell’s lap. There was no pressure, you would both take it as far as you wanted to, if you didn’t wish to continue, all you had to do was stand up.

The temperature rose between you as you exchanged delicate touches and light kisses. Mr Agraste was no longer talking yet the voice who had taken over was equally as boring.

You almost whined when Maxwell was finally asked a question he had to reply to.

Sniggering, he switched the mic back on and answered swiftly. You scrambled for your notebook, ass still firmly planted in his lap as you scribbled some form of illegible notes.

You’d worry about that tomorrow.

He muted himself, returning his attention to you, chuckling at your agitated expression. It fell as he lifted his hips into you, his semi erected outline pushing gently against your skirt. Hearing him sigh sent shockwaves down to your pussy, your juices spilling into your knickers as he rolled his hips again.

He worked himself until his stiff length strained against it’s confinement.

His cock was all you could think of, the meeting was nothing but white noise under Maxwell’s soft moans of pleasure. You needed to see it, to touch it, to have it sit snuggly in between your heated walls.

You stand up, a momentary flash of disappointment behind his eyes as you turn round.

“Take it out.”

The words shook with your breath but the tone was stern. His eyebrows rose, his mouth parting before he had something to ask.

“Are you sure?”

You’re not even looking at him, already bending down to hike up the hem of your skirt. You lift it over your thighs and over your hips, Maxwell finally seeing what was underneath. The knickers you wore wear simple yet accentuated your figure.

You pulled them down in one swift motion, carefully treading out of them as you face him.

His hands reach for his belt and slowly unbuckle as he soaks you up from your neat triangle of pubic hair to your soft curves. The belt whips from the loops and he tosses it to one side, his fingers tugging at his zip, unbuttoning his trousers and underneath were white briefs. His thumbs tuck under the elastic, pulling down until his weighted cock springs free.

Your mouth salivates.

He lets you admire it before patting his lap, initiating the next step.

You take a single step, twisting on your heels so your ass faces him. Peeking over your shoulder, you watch his eyes flit from your behind to your eyes. You grab your ass cheeks and tilt forward, spreading them to show him how wet he’d made you.

Your arousal coated your lips and inner thighs.

“How would you like me?”

There was a cockiness to your question and he liked it.

“We should really finish this meeting…”

You pout, straightening up, your hand moving to pull your skirt down.

“But, I can think of a way you can keep me warm.”

His hands grabbed your hips and heaved you to him, his face pressed against your lower back. He lets one hand go, squashing between your bodies so he can take his cock in his palm, lining it up with your entrance.

Squeezing your side, you slowly start to sink down, his fat tip nudging at your folds. You mewl as his girth breaches, the stretch met with the slightest twinge before fading into something pleasant. Your walls relax around him as you let out a long exhale, dropping until his cock disappeared from view.

He knew how good you were a magic tricks.

His hand spreads over the curve of your ass, watching how the goosebumps arrive on your skin.

“Is this ok?”

This was more than ok, you can barely get the words out.

“Uh-huh.”

“Lift your feet a little.”

You listen, taking your feet from the floor so he can scoot towards the desk. The air whistles through gritted teeth as your walls clench his cock with the movement.

“Sorry,” the temperature rises in your face.

“Just,” his word is gruff, “don’t do it again.”

He was pretty sure if you did, he’d lose his mind and come there and then. It had been so long since he’d felt anything other than his hand, his trust in women deflated from his money grabbing ex who screwed him out of almost everything he got.

Yet you were sensitive, when he told you not to, you twitched.

He grunts.

“If you behave, I’ll give you a reward.”

The pair of you sat through the rest of the meeting like this, only business matters being discussed between you.

Your lips were becoming sore with your teeth buried deep into them so you didn’t make a noise, your motions were kept to a minimum so not to disturb either of you. Even when you wrote something, words noticeably wobbly, your mind couldn’t stray away from what was between your legs.

He was in a similar position, trying to focus his attention on what was being said on the opposite side of the screen. However all he could feel was your warmth, the steady flutters that held his cock a fraction tighter.

Even though you were doing your best not to look, he could see how your eyelashes batted when your head was at the right angle, how your lips were getting plumper, the heat that climbed up your spine when his palm attempted to soothe you.

Your juices weeped around him and Maxwell just kept smiling, no one outside of the office any the wiser.

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - ten | F, senpai

You sat, like every other time you streamed, in front of your computer with the room lights off, but a strip of soothing red LEDs on so you could still see your desk. You were a faceless streamer and could comfortably sit in the darkness since no one needed to see you. Your blue light blocking glasses rested on your nose as you set up the chat and everything else you needed for a hard night’s work of being silly on the internet.

“Oooookay. Can you hear me guys? One, two. One, two. Mic check, mic check. Sob in the mob with the Rob Bob Bob?”

A few people in the chat helpfully answered that your audio sounded too quiet. You adjusted it.

“How about that? Price check on prune juice, Bob. Price check on prune juice.”

Everyone started sending thumbs ups and happy faces, with a few saying “You’re good!”

“Thank you, kittens. I guess I have to do the intro, huh.” You took a breath and - as fast as you could - said: “Hey everyone it’s Jageun Geomeun Goyangi, JGG, the Little Black Cat, coming to you live out there in radioland. We got a great stream tonight; a few indie games, I might play an old favorite, who knows where the night will take us? I hope you enjoy the stream and I hope you enjoy the jokes and remember, no backseat gaming., or I’ll turn this car around! If you like the video, like it, if you dislike it, dislike it, but let’s waste no further time and get to gaming.”

You paused. and inhaled deeply.

“How long was that?”

This was an odd little game that developed between you and your chat. When you first started, you tried to make your intro as personable as possible and it just got longer and and more ridiculous. Now you said it as fast as possible to see if you could beat your best time.

The times rolled in.

LeaBea: 0:8.02 TheNicestGuy: 0:0:7.57 QuackIsWhack✅: 0:0:8.22 🗻of Namhae: 0:0:7.58 YangYangGangGang: 0:0:8.15 SleepySheepy😴: 69:69:69.69

“SleepySheepy you’re so full of shit,” you laughed. “But also: nice, nice, nice, nice.”

SleepySheepy😴: LOLOL

“And what’s with the disparities guys? I felt like that was under eight seconds and you’re all giving me weird numbers.”

🗻of Namhae: You didn’t tell us when to start, lol

“That’s true Namhae, I should start giving signals. That’s my fault. Anyway, we got a good stream for you tonight, a few indie games, I might play an old favorite--” You laughed.

🗻of Namhae: 😞 LeaBea: LOL SleepySheepy😴: F WackIsQuack: Haha! QuackIsWhack✅: Change your fucking name back, I swear to god

“No name trolling, you know the rules, ladies, men, and nonbinary friends: Be nice in the chat, the world is already too harsh.”

JohnnyYuta: Sorry, Quack QuackIsWhack✅: Thank you

“Okay, let’s see… if Keeho is alive… and awake. And then we can see who else wants to stream.”

JohnnyYuta: He’s already streaming A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: He’s been streaming all day QuackIsWhack✅: You know what that means…

“I don’t have enough money to buy chicken nuggets?”

The chat flooded with emojis of potatoes that were meant to be chicken nuggets. Truly a crime against humanity that there wasn’t a nugget emoji.

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack✅: You gotta kill him

“I will, Quack… or should I say: Shane Madej. And then you can trap him in your ribcage like the demon you are.”

QuackIsWhack✅: LOL

“But if JohnnyYuta and Tree saw that he’s streaming already, let’s go raid him. Send him: the nuggets.”

You navigated over to Keeho’s Twitch page to find him, as your spies informed correctly, already streaming. As you and your chat made your way over to his, and his chat was suddenly filled with the same message of five nuggets in a row, over and over again.

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 TheNicestGuy: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 I💚Keeho: Heyyyy, it’s Cat! A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: The jig is up! JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 StrickenChicken: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 UltimateHyung✅: Oh noooo~~ a raid~~ lol UltimateHyung✅: Whatever shall we do with all these nuggets! I💚Keeho: Hi Cat! 👋 There’sARockInMySock: Cat!! 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 MinHoe: Sheepy, I thought you weren’t awake now?? SleepySheepy😴: I fucking LIED lol MinHoe: lol

“There’s what in the chat?” Keeho looked up from his game. “Ohh, Cat's on! Hi Cat!”

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: ACCEPT OUR NUGGETS!! 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔

“Accept nothing. Accept my Discord invite, you pest.”

Di-Dng!

“Hiiiiiiiii~~,” you sang.

“What’s going on, Cat?”

“Nothing much. I thought you said you weren’t starting before now?”

“Ummm, did you hear there’s a new map in Tale of Tails?”

“That weirdo gumiho gacha MMO you play?”

“Yes.”

You laughed. “No, because it’s a weirdo game for weirdos. Like yourself: a weirdo.”

“Okay, there’s no need to go so hard, what are my fans going to think?”

“That you’re a weirdo.”

“You can just admit you’re jealous, Cat.”

“I have no desire, nor need, to admit such a thing.”

He laughed. “I’ll get you hooked on it one day.”

“Some of us aren’t rich and can’t buy the best cards, my guy.”

“You don’t need to buy cards, my dude.”

“Is that what you tell yourself every time you hit ‘Purchase,’ champion?”

“It’s what I know, chief.”

QuackIsWhack: The girls are fightingggggggg MinHoe: Sheepy, answer my fucking message SleepySheepy😴: nah fam MinHoe: Don’t you nah fam me SleepySheepy😴: lolol 🗻of Namhae: Oooo MinHoe, so forceful 🗻of Namhae: Kabedon him against the wall next SleepySheepy😴: lolol, senpaiiiii~~~ MinHoe: I hate you, Sheepy MinHoe: 😞😞😞 SleepySheepy😴: 😎😎😎 LuciPURR: Cat, call him “buddy,” “guy” next

“They want me to fight with you more.”

“You just came here to fight with me?”

“No, I came here to fight you… in the realm of games!”

“I’m going to send you to the Shadow Realm!”

Both of you started singing the Mortal Kombat theme.

🗻of Namhae: MORTAL KOMBATTTT QuackIsWhack: daNA daNA daNA TheNicestGuy: daNA daNA daNA A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: DA DA DA DA DA DA DA JohnnyYuta: DA DA DA DA DA DA DA UltimateHyung✅: There’s the traitors UltimateHyung✅: I saw you sell Keeho out in Cat’s chat QuackIsWhack: Yo, but why are you stream sniping, boss? UltimateHyung✅: Are you defending them, Quack? QuackIsWhack: You’re all guilty of the same crime JohnnyYuta: You gotta do what you gotta do to get your fav streamers to stream together lol SleepySheepy😴: You gotta do what you gotta do what you gotta do, you know? LuciPurr: Do the Dew A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: I ship them 🥵 JohnnyYuta: My OTP 🗻of Namhae: guys… TheNicestGuy: GUYS QuackIsWhack: No shipping. I’m the mod, I say so UltimateHyung✅: Not in this house you aren’t QuackIsWhack: In Cat’s chat I am lol UltimateHyung✅: Lol QuackIsWhack: We should migrate back to our own chat anyway

“Thank you, Quack,” you said. “There will be no shipping in this house. Especially not drop shipping.”

“We’re in different houses.”

“There will be no shipping in either of these houses. Only a pox upon them.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m about to ship you with the wall.”

“Ohhh…”

“By slamming your head into it.”

Keeho laughed. “You’d have to be here first. And on camera.”

“Fuck, my one weakness.”

“You’re like a vampire.”

You hissed like Nosferatu.

“Understandable. I’ll set up the game.”

“Kay kay.”

“Kee Kee.”

“Ho Ho.”

“Santa??”

The two of you laughed.

As Keeho invited you to the game he read the chat. “‘Is Cat a vampire?’ Are you a vampire, Cat? Am I friends with a Dracula?”

You hissed into your microphone.

“Is that a cat hiss or a vampire hiss?”

You laughed. “Now I’m not sure.”

Keeho chuckled.

“But I’m a faceless streamer, person-in-Keeho’s-chat.”

“So you’re like a vampire or something and can’t appear on camera.”

“Vampires can’t go out in the sun, dude.”

“Twilight ones can.”

“You’re trying to make a point to me about vampires with the straightest, most boring vampires possible?”

He laughed.

“Where’s your sense of terrifying homoeroticism?”

QuackIsWhack✅: They do be like that tho There’sARockInMySock: The inherent homoeroticism of the vampyr 🗻of Namhae: Vampires are gay?

You laughed. “Yeah, they’re pretty gay, Namhae. At least the good ones are. Bram Stoker was closeted and stuff… he was best friends with Oscar Wilde… you know how it goes. Carmilla was like the OG vampire book and that was about two girls. Anne Rice’s vampires were pretty gay as well.”

“Why do you know so much about vampires?”

“Maybe I’m the Big Titty Goth Girlfriend we’ve all heard so much about. Ever think of that?”

“Then you are shooting yourself in the foot by not having a camera.”

You cackled.

“Plus, I know what you look like, and you’re not.”

“Oh shit, yeah. Damnit, if only we were never friends in real life.”

Keeho laughed loudly. “Let’s go back in time and not be friends, and then I’ll believe it when you say it.”

“Yes, that’s my fucking plan.” You laughed.

QuackIsWhack✅: Anyone who asks about her tits, gets the hammer JohnnyYuta: Dang, Quack JohnnyYuta: Punish me mommy QuackIsWhack✅: You trying to get banned? JohnnyYuta: Absolutely not, ma’am 🧍‍♂️ A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Crack the whip on him! QuackIsWhack✅: Tree? A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: No ma’am 🧍‍♂️

“What in the kinkery fuckery is going on in your chat?” Keeho laughed.

“Stop looking at my stream, dude. And I don’t claim them.”

“You have to claim them, they’re your chat.”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

QuackIsWhack✅: Excuse you?

“Quack is my only monkey. I made a circus just for her.”

He laughed.

“She’s been around the longest.”

🗻of Namhae: I’ve been here since the beginning too QuackIsWhack✅: Yeah, haven’t you been here longer than I have?

“Wait, what? Namhae, you’ve been here the longest?”

🗻of Namhae: I think so. I remember back when you only had five subscribers, right when you started 🗻of Namhae: (One was me, btw. lol) QuackIsWhack✅: Yeah, I came in at like, 15 or something lol 🗻of Namhae: Lol 🗻of Namhae: This is the same account from back then too, go check how long I’ve been subbed JohnnyYuta: No lies Namhae? 🗻of Namhae: Lol, why would I lie? Quack can just check QuackIsWhack: Ohhh yeah, lemme check A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Did she have any other fans then? 🗻of Namhae: There was a handful of people 🗻of Namhae: I haven’t seen any of their names in a really long time though QuackIsWhack: Holy shit, you’ve really been here the whole time 🗻of Namhae: See? 😊 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Yooooooo TheNicestGuy: Wow JohnnyYuta: Oppa! YangYangGangGang: Oppaaaa!

“Ohhhhh shit. You hear that, Keeho? I’ve got someone who’s been here almost as long as me.” You laughed.

“Shit, I’m so jealous. That’s so cool though.”

🗻of Namhae: 😊😊😊

“Aww, cute blushie smiles right back at you, Namhae. You know what? I should make you a mod, since you’re always around.”

🗻of Namhae: Really? 🗻of Namhae: I’d be honored JohnnyYuta: Oh shit TheNicestGuy: Wow… A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Senpai’s noticed him, AND he’s gonna be a mod? A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: I’m so fucking jealous

“Well, you know, stay around for five or so years and maybe you’ll become a mod too, Tree.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Goals 🥲🥲🥲 JohnnyYuta: Living the dream, Namhae

“You’re so silly, Tree. Annnnnd, you’re a mod now, Namhae. Quack can message you and tell you the ropes.”

QuackIsWhack✅: We got so many ropes, you’d think it was the Scouts up in here 🗻of Namhae✅: testing…? 🗻of Namhae✅: Oh my god 🗻of Namhae✅: I have a check QuackIsWhack✅: Woowwww JohnnyYuta: Look at himmmm QuackIsWhack✅: How do you feel, Namhae? 🗻of Namhae✅: So special 🥺🥺🥺 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Ahhh my TT QuackIsWhack✅: lolol 🗻of Namhae✅: 😤😤😤 🗻of Namhae✅: Who needs to get banned? Lemme at em! YangYangGangGang: There’s a new Oppa in town

You chuckled. “You’re funny, Namhae.”

“I’ve seen him in my chat occasionally when you’re not streaming, he cracks me up.”

🗻of Namhae✅: 😳😳😳 JohnnyYuta: BOTH senpais have seen him! 🗻of Namhae✅: I don’t know what to do with all this A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Go crazy! Go stupid! SleepySheepy😴: Go apeshit MinHoe: Sleepy, answer me dammit SleepySheepy😴: 😴😴😴

You laughed at the chat. 

Di-Dng!

Di-Dng!

“Heyyy, BrickTheBracken and MickTheMacken are here!”

“Hey guys,” Keeho said.

“Hey hey,” Bracken and Mick responded.

“Are you guys in the same room again? You’re a little echoey.”

“Sorry,” Bracken responded. “We just moved into the new place and we’re not totally set up yet.”

“I’ll take my laptop to the other room,” Mick offered. A few seconds went by and he could be heard shuffling his headset. “This better?”

“Much better.” Keeho answered.

“Do we know if Yeji or Ryujin are going to show up?” You asked.

“They should,” Bracken offered. “Maybe they had to stay late at their day jobs?”

Di-Dng!

“Don’t even fucking talk about day jobs,” Ryujin exploded into the chat. “I was watching you guys on the way home and I’m so mad I had to stay late. I wanted to be around for the nugget raid.”

You laughed.

“Love a good nug raid.”

🗻of Namhae✅: Everyone loves nugs 🗻of Namhae✅: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack✅: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 StrickenChicken: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 UltimateHyung: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LeaBea: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 TheNicestGuy: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 YangYangGangGang: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LeaBea: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 There’sARockInMySock: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 MinHoe: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LuciPURR: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: All hail the nugs!

“Ryujin, are you watching my chat?”

“I ammmm, thanks guys. Now I really feel like I was at the earlier raid.”

“My chat’s pretty sweet.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: You’re sweet

“Oh, Tree, I’m blushing. My heart just went ‘doki doki,’ dude.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 😳😳😳

“Can you quit flirting with your chat and accept my invite?” Keeho asked.

“I’m not flirting with anyone. They’re all just lovely people.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t see an invite from you.”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t add you.”

“HA!” You laughed loudly.

QuackIsWhack✅: F A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: F StrickenChicken: F UltimateHyung: F SleepySheepy😴: F I💚Keeho: F LeaBea: F JohnnyYuta: F TheNicestGuy: F There’sARockInMySock: F MinHoe: F 🗻of Namhae✅: F, senpai

“At least Namhae respects me.”

🗻of Namhae✅: I respect you, sunbaenim

“All I need is your respect, Namhae.” Keeho said as he held his fist to his chest and pretended to struggle with his emotions.

You laughed. “Close my stream, dammit!”

“I’m going to close it when we start playing.”

Di-Dng!

“Guys! I made it!” Yeji yelled, winded.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Keeho responded. “Do you want us to play a round while you get situated or would you rather play now?”

“I need to play something and not think about the printer that I spent like three hours trying to fix because our office didn’t pay a bill and now the printer company won’t come fix it and no one else can or wants to fix it.”

“Holy shit,” you said. “You’re way too pretty for that, Yeji.”

“I knowwww, I should never have become an office worker. I thought it would be easy.”

“Aww, my baby.”

SleepySheepy😴: WE love you, Yeji I💚Keeho: Yejiiiiiii LeaBea: Aww 😥😥😥 There’sARockInMySock: Yeji! 💜💜💜 QuackIsWhack✅: We love you, bubbah A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Yeji is the prettiest JohnnyYuta: Love our girl StrickenChicken: I’m not wlw, but if I was I would pick you, Yeji UltimateHyung: Were I single, I would ask you out in a manly fashion 🗻of Namhae✅: You deserve better, Yeji

“Are you looking at my chat, Yeji?” You asked.

“Ryujin is showing me. Aww, you guys are sweet.”

“You do deserve better.”

“I know… UGH I have to interview somewhere else or make more money streaming so I can leave.”

“I think you can do it. I mean… I never went to college and here I am.”

“Living the dream, Cat.” Ryujin said.

You laughed. “Nah, I’m living the ‘a lot of hard work and a little luck’.”

“Dang right, hard work,” Keeho said emphatically.

“Mhm.”

“Now: Are we finally going to play?”

“Yes!”

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[vmrenarde]

An Email Through Time

You have mail… You have mail…

The computer echoed across the room. The robotic voice flowing through the speakers sounded as though it was trapped inside of a tin can. Old hardware seemed strangely difficult to upgrade in the Age of Technology. I groaned, slamming a pillow over my face and tuning out the sound of the broken notification system. You’d think that one alert would be enough. 

Almost as if a God above watched me in spite, my alarm clock blared on my bedside table. I’d always been a strong advocate for sleeping in. Waking up at five in the morning to catch the train to work seemed to exacerbate my affliction. I grabbed my phone, silenced the alarm, and checked my social media. It was my daily routine and a comfort I had grown accustomed to. 

You have mail… You have mail…

The notifications from my computer did not stop, interrupting my routine. Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed and over to my cluttered desk. I sat down quickly, the rolling chair under me was not expecting my sudden weight and rolled away. I grabbed the corners of the desk and pulled myself back. Clicking through my computer, I looked at my new mail. Most were ads or subscriptions that I had long since forgotten about. Nothing of interest caught my eye until I saw a subject line in all caps. 

READ IMMEDIATELY 

My heart began to beat faster. The email was only a few hours old, landing in my inbox while I was deep in sleep. The email address was clear as day. The same string of letters and numbers that I had created so many years ago. I had begged my mom for weeks to let me create an email. I had wanted to play my online games, but I could never have imagined that one day this would be waiting for me.

I had heard from so many of my friends that they had all received emails from the future. I didn’t believe them, choosing to think they were being scammed by someone who wanted them to buy thousands of dollars in gift cards. But, with my email address staring back at me, I felt a pressure in my chest that I could not comprehend. 

The news had not spoken of this phenomenon yet, but in the coming years, it would wreak havoc on the world as we knew it. We would be able to communicate with our past selves. As far as I knew, my friends had only used it to warn themselves away from boys who would eventually break their hearts. At the time, it seemed silly to me. There were pros and cons I suppose. On one hand, you would save yourself the pain of a breakup, but on the other, you would be restricting yourself. You'd be limiting the deep and enriching moments you have with other people.

My heart was in my throat as my finger hovered over the mouse. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to read it. But, I knew myself. If, in the future, I had become okay with this procedure, there was a reason. Or, even more horrific, I still wasn’t on board with it in the future but had to make the difficult choice because of a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

I took a deep breath and clicked the email. 

SUBJECT: READ IMMEDIATELY 

Today, for you, it is March 15th, 2025. Do not under any circumstances go to work. 

Short and sweet. To the point. Distressingly so. 

“I have to go to work,” I spoke out loud. “What the fuck. I have to go to work!” I began to get frustrated. I can’t imagine a world where I have forgotten my constant struggle with money.

I searched through my email frantically, praying that there would be another message holding more context than “Don’t go”.  It’s honestly so typical of me to leave out pertinent information. Maybe future me knew that if I was told why I shouldn’t go, I wouldn’t think it was a big deal. I left it vague to set off this type of response in myself. 

I cursed under my breath and stared at the phone lying on my desk. I thought of the shop’s number, reciting it in my mind like a mantra. My foot bounced against the hardwood flooring and I rubbed my eyes in frustration. 

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, placing the phone on speaker and laying it back down on my desk. My manager, Meghan, answered in a somber tone. 

“I can’t come in today.” 

“What? Eileen, come on. You’re the third person to call out this morning. If one more person calls out I’ll have to close the shop for the day.” 

“Wait, other people are calling out?” 

“Yeah, and if you don’t come in I’m fucked.” 

“Meg…” I rubbed at my temples. “Please. I never call out. This is my first sick day in over a year.” 

I heard a deep sigh come through the speakers. “I know. You’re my best employee for a reason. Do you know why everyone is calling out?” 

“I can take a guess,” I said, running my mouse over the cryptic email. “You know, you should probably close for the day. I don’t know why. I just have a bad feeling about today.” 

I had worked with Meg for seven years. We had been the only consistencies through years of other people quitting or being fired. She deserved her spot as manager. Well, she deserved a more lucrative job, but if she had to stay in a shithole, she might as well manage it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I got an email from the future. You know, like Dennis was talking about a few weeks ago?” 

The line went quiet for a moment, then clicking from a computer mouse. Meg gasped. 

“I just… This is impossible. I thought we always said it was bullshit.” 

“I thought it was too. What happened?” 

“I just checked my email. I got one too. Oh my god, this is so scary.” Meg took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts. “Okay, I am thoroughly terrified, so I’m going to close up the shop for today. I’ll send everyone who is here home and then I’ll send a mass text to all the employees that we will be closing for the day. That seems like a good idea. I’ll text the boss and tell him that too many people called in sick and that it is impossible to run the store with three people.” 

“Good. Wanna come over?” 

Meg laughed as she began the process of closing down the store. “I feel like we shouldn’t be in groups, what if it’s like the apocalypse or something?” 

“If it was like the apocalypse I think the news would be reporting on mass emails. Come on, we can wait it out together. I have alcohol!”

“Well, neither of us works tomorrow-“ 

“And maybe we will never have to work again!” I laughed into the microphone. This entire situation was much more than I could bear on my own. 

“Okay. Fine, give me an hour to close up and I’ll be there. You better have breakfast ready for me, I’m starving.” 

“Of course, whatever your heart desires shall be yours.” 

Meg laughed and hung up. I put my phone down and stretched my back against the chair. I allowed my head to spin for a few moments before shaking it off and heading to the living room. I cleared any garbage, refolded the throw blankets, and fluffed the pillows on the couch. Walking into the kitchen I noticed last night’s dinner plates sitting in the sink. I groaned and got to work cleaning. Once I was done, I realized how much time I had before Meg would arrive. 

I plopped onto the couch, trying to wrap my mind around the events of the morning. I could not come up with any substantial theories and it hurt my brain to think about it. When I started to make breakfast, the email was still burned into my brain. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I made large strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I ran around the kitchen, looking for the blueberry muffin mix that I knew I had bought. Do not under any circumstances go to work. Finally, I took a deep breath and placed my hands on the counter to steady myself. I needed to relax. It was probably just a fluke or a scam. 

As I finished breakfast, Meg had arrived. She sat down at the kitchen table and filled her plate. I poured her a glass of orange juice and apologized for the lack of muffins. She rolled her eyes and ate her fill of eggs and bacon. I pecked at the food, but I was no longer hungry. My stomach was still in knots.  

Meg insisted that we have the news on in the background, in case something happened while we lounged around for most of the day. We swapped stories and gossiped about the people we knew. None of it mattered and that was exactly what we needed to take our minds off the heavy weight in our hearts.

We had ordered an early dinner before I started work on a large pitcher of margaritas. I had to make good on my promise of alcohol. Between pulses on the blender, Meg filled me in on the contents of the latest romance book she had finished. We laughed at all the protagonist's stupid decisions. 

“It was like a Hallmark movie. You have to read it.” 

I sat down with our glasses and we talked for hours. By 10:30, we were drunk and giggling like any other night. Meg was gushing over how cute Dennis was. She said that she’d love to ask him out but didn’t think that he liked her. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so in love. You should text him.” 

“What? Right now? No way, I could barely keep a conversation with him going right now.” 

I threw my head back with laughter. “You’re probably right. In the morning, then?” 

Meg repositioned herself on the couch, swirling her almost empty martini glass. She was quiet for a moment. 

“Here, let me get you a refill,” I said, grabbing her glass and walking into the kitchen. 

“I can’t believe we got those damn emails, it’s like-“ She cut herself off, I turned to look at her. She was staring at the TV, the look on her face sobered me. “Turn the volume up. Come here, turn the volume up!” She was frantically looking for the remote. I rushed back in, swiping it off the armchair and raising the volume. 

A lone reporter stood in the center of the city, our storefront in the background of the broadcast. The street was desolate, an unsettling sight. The area had a lively nightlife. There were many bars within half a mile of that spot and a slew of businesses that stayed open late to accommodate the heavy, drunk, foot traffic. Seeing it empty left a pit in my stomach. 

“…After nearly twelve hours, police still have no clue what has happened in the city. Unfortunately, there are no witnesses. The area has been almost abandoned. Families are saying that their loved ones came into the city this morning to go to work. At some point, around 11 am, they stopped responding to texts or calls. Nobody has heard from them since.” 

Meg had a hand over her mouth, muffling any gasps she would accidentally release. My head felt like it was spinning again. I checked my phone. I was bombarded by texts and calls but my fingers shook too much to respond to any. Twelve hours had passed since these people had gone missing. I felt my breathing become faster and my heartbeat grew louder. 

“…We are unsure of what this means, where these people have gone, or if they will come back. The police have put a lockdown on the area. Once we have wrapped here, not a single soul is allowed in or out of the area.” 

“We would have been there,” Meg said, stating the obvious thought that floated through the room. 

“And if we were there, we would have disappeared.” 

“So, if we disappeared, how could we have emailed ourselves?” 

Meg and I looked at each other for a long moment before reverting our attention to the screen. 

You’ve got mail… You’ve got mail…

Meg and I jumped out of our skin, the notification seemed like thunder in a world that was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. 

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and getting up to check my email. As I entered my bedroom, I looked out the window onto the open street below. Nobody was walking and there weren’t any cars driving, but all the apartments were lit up with people flitting around inside. Everyone was too terrified to leave their homes. 

“Nobody is outside,” I called to Meg, hoping to share in the unease. I shook the computer mouse, bringing my computer screen back to life. The newest email made my heart leap again. I couldn’t take much more of this. 

SUBJECT: THANK YOU

I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am. I’m not sure how time will flow moving forward, but you stopped us from, technically, enduring the worst experience of our life. I do not know what happens from here but thank you for saving us. 

The message was still so cryptic. What did I save us from? How would this change events in the future? Will I remember an event I didn’t experience? Well, technically, I guess I did experience it, but this current form of myself didn’t. I began to feel nauseous. Margaritas didn’t seem to go well with changing the course of the future.

I stood from my desk and walked slowly back to the living room. Meg was staring at her phone screen, tears pouring down her face. She looked up at me, holding her phone in my direction. I took it gingerly and read the email that was brightly displayed on her screen. 

It was the same.

For more original writing, follow my Patreon! All my writing is currently public access.

[chouxtranslations]

Shizun 016 - Sect rules

With the new addition to the house, the household budget was a little less tight. 

Lu Yunzhen decided to celebrate and brought home a reusable bag full of good quality meat dishes. He also stopped by the temple to buy some nice incense for Jin Yunu. 

As he got home with his bags he saw Mo Changkong and Jin Yunu staring at a phone in the yard saying something he couldn’t hear. The two heard him approach and turned simultaneously, “Shizun (master), you’re home?” 

His home was getting more and more rowdy. 

Lu Yunzhen loved this kind of warm atmosphere. He put on his apron and made two veggie side dishes in the kitchen. He then remembered to light the incense for Jin Yunu so he could worship himself but as he approached he found Mo Changkong playing a mobile game……. 

It was the newest smartphone costing nearly ten thousand bucks. 

The game that he was playing was a new one that’s still in beta named Hero. His martial arts skills didn’t translate to gaming at all. He didn’t know the moves and would pick a wild hero wanting to solo the enemy team. Then he would immediately get killed off immediately and get yelled at by teammates while waiting to respawn. 

Demonaziu: “You noob kid! How are your teachers teaching you?! Go back to class and stop trying to play games like the adults!” 

Mo Changkong was incensed and asked darkly, “Yunu, where is this guy?” 

His fist hardened and he wanted to beat him up, but he didn’t know how to drag the man out of the phone. 

“Worry not, master, leave this to this one.” Jin Yunu reassured him, opened voice chat, pinched his throat, and let out a soft and sweet female voice. “Sorry, it’s my first time. Please lead me, gege.” 

It was too pretty. Too deceptive. 

A man killer…. 

Lu Yunzhen knew the truth and even then he almost knelt listening. 

The other player had immediately softened up and started chatting up Jin Yunu, soon sending a friend request. 

Jin Yunu clicked confirm and responded to Mo Changkong fawningly. “Fret not, master. This one guarantees an in person meeting within three days. Where do you want to make the move?” 

Mo Changkong thought for a moment, “Find somewhere remote.” 

Jin Yunu agreed. “This one will invite him to a hotel in the suburbs. After he enters you can dash in and deal with this blind fool and make him pay punitive damages.” 

Mo Changkong replied, “Good. Lots.” 

The two continued to discuss it happily. 

Lu Yunzhen’s eyes had turned dark from listening. He dashed out with the spatula to immediately put a stop to the illegal acts. “You can’t do bad things!” 

Mo Changkong was shocked. “This counts as a bad thing?” 

Back in his era, there wasn’t much of a sense of the rule of law. The powerful ruled and things like murder and robberies were commonplace. Shizun had only taught him to not kill the innocent and not start fights. He was never taught to not fight back when he got bullied. 

A gentleman can be killed but not be humiliated. 

Mo Changkong held the phone and argued confidently. “This man had insulted Wujian peak! He’s detestable and deserves to be taught a lesson.” 

Lu Yunzhen was at a loss. 

If every piece of trash talk online escalated to an irl brawl they’d be in the middle of a world war by now. 

Looks like the two needed remedial lessons in both a sense of justice and online common sense. 

After listening to a long lecture from Shizun, Mo Changkong finally understood that the only response to being yelled at online is to yell back, not to move his fists. He had no talent whatsoever for arguing and felt immensely pent up; in the end he decided that he was going to get a demon who’s good at arguing to cuss people out for him. 

If one demon wasn’t enough he’d just get two. If they couldn’t win the argument then he’ll just get Jin Yunu to honey trap them of their location and get the demon to go argue in person. It’s not over til those bastards admit defeat! We’ll see who’s a noob kid then! 

Mo Changkong promised, “I won’t fight.” 

Jin Yunu answered obediently, “This one wouldn’t dare to fight.” 

Lu Yunzhen breathed a sigh of relief seeing that everyone understood. He decided to set some sect rules for Wujian peak. Hanging up a small chalkboard on the wall, he sternly wrote: 

Rule one: Running off to fight after losing an argument online is forbidden. 

Rule two: Honey trapping is forbidden. 

Rule three: Breaking the law is forbidden.

Rule four: To be decided. 

Mo Changkong immediately launched into applause and praise for Shizun. 

Lu Yunzhen appreciated the response but then noticed a burning smell. Realizing the veggies had burned, he dashed back hoping to save the duck. But as he was salvaging it he realized something was wrong. 

Where did Mo Changkong get a new phone from? 

Jin Yunu laughed, “It’s from Long Gongzi.” 

He was flirting with Long Jingtian at the bar when the latter asked him for his contact info. When he said he didn’t have a phone Long Jingtian immediately bought him the newest model, and then wanted to follow up with clothes and jewelry to boot. 

“Worry not, master, Long Gongzi is known for being a sucker.” explained Jin Yunu. “He spends money like water and casually gifts designer bags worth 5 figures. This one doesn’t like items made from skin and didn’t want them.” 

Lu Yunzhen was stunned…

He finally realized that his fee might have been too low…

Jin Yunu also felt wronged when he heard that he was only worth 3000 yuan, complaining, “This one could seduce some random man off the street and get more than that…. Sect leader, Long Gongzi will give you as much money as you ask for…” 

Lu Yunzhen was a little regretful, but it’s too late now. 

Jin Yunu suggested, “If master is lacking in money, this one can go attend at a bar. Those men all have a lot of money, this one simply have to lift a finger.” 

He had spent a lot of time as an actor before and was faced with many a young man who wanted to buy a smile. He was good at it and felt no shame at his talents. 

Lu Yunzhen took a breath and turned down the lure of lucre, and chalked up the fourth sect rule: attending at bars is forbidden. 

It’s too hard being the leader of Wujian peak… 

…

Mo Changkong finally figured out the game mechanics. He ignored the fool who kept on trying to talk to Jin Yunu by muting the chat and had fun hanging out in bronze games. Soon after, the game server died. 

He asked Shizun for help. 

Lu Yunzhen responded that his powers were limited and he couldn’t save the server. 

Hurry up and eat! 

Lu Yunzhen had filled the table with dishes, with the majority of it being Mo Changkong’s beloved meat. Jin Yunu had also gained a temporary seat at the table by being obedient, vegetarian, and not eating much. 

Mo Changkong handed the phone back to Jin Yunu and sat obediently. 

Lu Yunzhen went out to the yard to grab some home brewed wine. 

He had been interested in brewing since he was young and was talented at that. It was easily for him to make something tasty without much interest. Grandpa had always loved his wine, and when he passed…. He was still under age then and couldn’t drink. So the majority of the wine was placed as an offering in front of the grave. The only tub he kept was the one that Grandpa had disliked for being too bitter. 

After he came of age, he tried it and realized it really was bitter. But after the bitterness passed there was a faintly sweet aftertaste which was quite unique. Most people wouldn’t like it, but… he always felt in his heart that this wine was patiently waiting for someone important. 

Every time he had a friend or classmate over, he would have them try the wine. 

But, no one liked it… 

He wasn’t discouraged. He stubbornly waited, sure that the wine will finally find the person who would appreciate it. 

Mo Changkong came. 

Lu Yunzhen once again brought out his precious wine, filled three cups, and eagerly served it. “Please try it.” 

Jin Yunu took half a sip and almost spat it out from the bitterness. He immediately put it down and focused on eating the dishes. 

Mo Changkong took the cup hesitantly and had a taste, but he was stunned. There weren’t any magical herbs or flowers in it, but it was that same familiar flavour… 

He’s not human and had some unique taste, so he never liked wine. But he always wanted to drink, so Shizun had spent many years to figure out this recipe. It was strong, bitter, with a sweet after taste. Everyone hated it, but he loved it…

Why didn’t he realize it before? 

Food, drinks, clothes, flowers, scenery… 

Shizun would secretly change most of the dishes at the peak to suit his tastes. Many things will slowly be the way that he liked, but he never noticed. He treated it as a matter of course and only threw a fuss wanting more and more, until Shizun had nowhere left to go. 

He never expected that after so many reincarnations that Shizun would remember what he liked, that he would keep around the wine that no one else would drink, just waiting for him to return. 

Mo Changkong was filled with regret. 

Lu Yunzhen saw that his expression was saddened and said with some embarrassment, “The wine tastes pretty bitter at first. If you don’t like it then don’t force yourself, it’s fine.” 

“I love it.” Mo Changkong held his hand that reached out to retrieve the wind. He gently continued, “I really love it…Everyone said, this wine was like me, that no one would like it, that it tastes terrible.” 

He was born a bad seed, with a bad personality, he was looked down on everywhere he went. 

Only Shizun believed that he was good… 

And only Shizun would drink the bitter wine with him. 

Lu Yunzhen smiled, “This wine doesn’t taste terrible. You just have to drink a few more cups to taste the sweetness. And once you taste it you won’t be able to put it down.” 

But, the wine was too bitter and too strong, it was hard for some to get to that point. 

Lu Yunzhen smiled, “I also gave it a name.” 

Mo Changkong replied gently, “En, it’s named Yixing.” 

Shizun had said that you could only experience its true flavour if you treated it single heartedly. (Tn: Yixing means one heart) 

Lu Yunzhen was shocked, “How did you know?” 

He thought the name was a little childish and had never told anyone. 

“I guessed.” Mo Changkong smiled and held out his cup, “Shizun, could you drink with me?” 

Lu Yunzhen was overjoyed. “Yes.” 

The cups had crossed. What a night, to drink wine with one heart. 

What place isn’t Wujian Peak? 

… 

The night deepened. Jin Yunu had went back to the doghouse to cultivate long ago. 

Lu Yunzhen was still a student and wasn’t practiced at drinking. He hit his limit at 5 cups and was carried back to his bed in a daze. His bear was placed in his hands. He touched the little bear’s fluffy ears and immediately fell asleep. 

Shizun had always loved drinking but wasn’t good at holding his liquor. He would often get drunk and fall asleep. No matter what was done to him he would never remember when he woke and was easy to bully. 

Mo Changkong was also feeling the effect the liquor. He leaned at the side of the bed and couldn’t help but to touch the short scuff of Lu Yunzhen’s hair, then his faintly red cheeks. He then touched gently at soft lips with his fingertips, and touched once more…

He wants it so badly. 

Every time Shizun was drunk he would steal many kisses. 

It was so sweet.  

At first, he would warn himself to only steal a little. But he never felt full no matter how much he ate, never satiated. His urges only grew and grew, his heart demons became deeper and deeper, and the acts he committed became more and more out of line. 

Shizun was always afraid of those things, and even more afraid of him losing control in bed. It was painful every time they finished. 

He knew he was a bastard, but he couldn’t control his ugly desires. The more Shizun asked him to stop, the more he could not. Desire, twisted, paranoid, violence, his methods became more and more crazed. 

Until finally, things spun out of control… 

Lu Yunzhen felt like there was something by his mouth in his dreams. It was cool and seemed tasty, so he gave a little lick. 

Mo Changkong shot back his hand as if he was electricuted. His mind cleared and he realized that he was still thinking of foul things. He was overcome with a strong sense of built. He bent down in despair and groaned in pain while holding his head. 

He can’t ask for it anymore. 

[limelocked]

i was gonna start this post to talk about solen my beloved but actually im just gonna talk about roa again

so Rise of Aeolia (roa) is my self indulgent as fuck sword art online wannabe universe, and when i say wannabe i mean wanna be better out of love for the concept and spite for the execution of the first arc (who even Likes the second part of season 1) so like same concept (successful vr mmo that removes the log out button, die in the game you die for real) but with more love

so like roa was explicitly created as a social experiment, it launched nov 22nd and The Incident/Lockdown happened a month later (to avoid unnecessary newbie deaths) but none of the locked in players know this, they dont get told fuck nor shit, this info has to be brought in by people who knew about the news and then intentionally went out of their way to trap themselves inside the game as well and like even then wouldnt those people sound like conspiracy theorists

anyways

roa being created to study how communities are created (among other reasons) means that a lot of resources are put into weird shit like changing your avatar

lets take my two beloved guild leaders shoo and solen for example!

shoo is trans, ftm, realized during his time in the game. the game lets you change your entire avatar every in game year (roughly 7.5 months) to see what that would do (would people use it to avoid punishment for crimes they did as the previous avatar, would it be widely used, how would it effect the health of the players)

solen is Not trans BUT uses a similar mechanic in that for a certain amount of resources and a level requirement; you can get another avatar you can switch to a la animal crossing outfit wand (shoo also uses this very notably but not for the intended purpose so its not applicable here) which means in essence you can have two or more player characters

solen is the guild master of Danelaw

morgan is the guild master of Roundtable

solen also just so happens to Be morgan, a secret very few people in Either guild knows about

the reason for these features being different is because one allows for total customisability and the other is like a money sink

mmos are things that just print money, if you keep an mmo running for a while inflation is gonna become a problem so letting high level players buy a new character slot and spend all their fortune levelling and gearing up their new character is one way to keep it in check while also studying how giving everyone a master disguise kit will change culture as well as letting the people actually interested in combat and beating the game not get bored of using the same things over and over again (solen uses swords and morgan is a magician, shoo uses swords and in battle switches to a second character that's levelled with guns)

this post had no point i just wanted to talk about my little guy (my little guy is an entire fake video game)

[spaceumbredoggos]

Is my wishlist for a new skylanders game controversial?

Every past game in order with buffs from later titles.

No more emphasis on toys, instead it’s focused more on gameplay (characters are unlocked either by having the old toys or getting the soul gems in game, but you can still buy the toys in stores.

New story after imaginators with four new core skylanders of each element with new form of chaos.

Added clothes as well as hats.

The portal is optional plugin/bluetooth device (on nintendo switch, it just uses the toys like you would use the amiibo, and you can use nintendo switch amiibos as characters.)

Nuzlocke mode built in.

All four difficulties unlocked from beginning.

Online co-op up to eight players/battle mode up to eight players/ racing mode up to eight players

All imaginator types/trap team traps are available at the beginning.

Any skylander can be played at any time in any game.

Soul gem already unlocked if you have the toy.

You get to choose one core skylander of each element (of the original 32) with variants (many new variants) to start off in spyros adventures (all games are played in sequential order).

Art style consistent of SSA.

Variants are a toggleable option and you don’t even have to have the toy.

Improved combat system based on strategy but keeps the main beat em up premise (elemental matchups, armor acts more as defense, clothes and hats also key in.

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Sword Art Online Alternate Gun Gale Story

Well, I’ve been putting it off enough. I think you’re old enough to know.

There’s this anime called Sword Art Online.

Sword Art Online is an anime based on the light novels by Reki Kawahara, published in who cares, turned into an anime in again, who cares. Sword Art Online is a story of immense media presence, with a manga adaptation, an anime with two seasons, a movie, then another new season, then a third season, then a second movie, then a third movie, a live action Netflix series, six videogames, and then a positive plague of spinoffs, with every series getting extensions and game adaptations. It’s an anime whose central premise is a full-body VR MMORPG where you put on a headset and go into a wholly real-feeling fantasy world.

Basically, if you’re familiar with the trend of ‘Virtual Reality MMORPG Isekai,’ where someone gets stuck in a videogame, but their real life is somehow still there in a way that can affect the story, then you’re looking at stuff that probably grew out of the particularly gnarled bush of the Sword Art Online root.

Now one might imagine that I have an opinion of Sword Art Online, since it’s an anime, and it’s about games, and that’s an area of specific study for me, as a person. The author has said he wants to represent videogames differently and not as a form of escapism or a thing that endangers you, which is why the first story Sword Art Online shows is a story about people being trapped in a videogame that will kill them, and which characters are in to escape their real lives.

So yeah, I have an opinion but it’s mostly ‘man, this thing looks like it sucks.’ I haven’t engaged with Sword Art Online as a whole. It doesn’t look interesting to me! It looks like the game sucks, it looks like the setting sucks and it looks like it’s mostly going to focus on a single character who is the awful venn diagram overlap of exactly interesting enough to remain the main character of over two hundred episodes of anime that constantly reset. Who wants to sink a month of watching into a franchise that doesn’t have any interesting reason to engage with it?

Oh wait, there’s a spinoff series, and it’s written by the writer of Kino’s Journey and Beat You To Death Angel Dokuro-Chan?

In Sword Art Online Alternative Gun Gale Online oh no that can’t possibly be the actual name of the series can it be oh no it absolutely is and oh no, the story is set in the same universe as Sword Art Online. Not the same game — it’s not following the ‘main’ continuity like those stories are relevant to it at all. Sword Art Online Alternative Gun Gale Story oh jeeze is instead about a person who exists in the real world, and who has a problem that a friend suggests they address by trying out the Sword Art Online style of game. From that, she gets into the game, and we learn about the game as she learns about the game. Eventually, she gets involved in the tournament scenes in the game, makes friends outside the game and there is a little bit of a weirdo escalation towards the end of the series, but it’s after the characters have engaged with the game and one another.

It is, simply put, the kind of story I would personally have expected you’d get out of an anime that was about a character who got into an MMO and cared about it a lot. A chance to show fantastic scenes in the MMO and a chance to show how the real world differed from the MMO for the character. No need for impractical nonsense like a microwave in the headset that can kill you (gosh, Sword Art Online sounds stupid).

Where this show shines and what makes me love it, is the way it relates to the game. See, in the world of Sword Art Online, a thriving industry of VR MMORPGs exist that do not let you customise your character. At all. No matter what. Despite the fact that character customisation is something almost every MMORPG offers, to the extent that not allowing it is notable, in this universe, you can buy a game, sign up to play it, then be immediately presented, before you engage with the game, with a situation that makes the game unplayable for you. Bonus, this lack of customisation is because the VR MMO generates an avatar for you based off you.

Our heroine, in this case, is interested in these VR MMOs because her problem is that she’s very tall. Six feet tall. She does not like being six feet tall. She would like to be shorter. She would like to be little and cute. And therefore, when she dials into a game and gets made into a pointy-eared elf giantess? She is out. And she tries another game and another game and another game, randomising every time, trying out game after game until she hits the first game that doesn’t make her tall.

The game that she gets into is a run-and-gun FPS shooter game called Gun Gale Online. Is she interested in these games? No! Hell no! She just wants to be little and cute, though, so! This game lets her be little and cute, so she goes into the tutorial and endures this game for which she has no taste, just wandering around in a virtual space where she gets to be the way she wants to be. The book even underscores this: She spends three months in this game, not engaging with its mechanics at all, just being in the space as a small girl, like she’s always wanted to be. It’s because this space is where she can be what she wants that she winds up even taking part in the game systems, which sets her on the path to becoming one of the game’s top players.

And this is how this game starts. It takes the idea from Sword Art Online which is dumb and sucks, and then shows how a player might react to that bad system, and the unforseen consequences that come from that. I love when a story uses its world building to inform its characters and it’s even better when it’s using a story decision someone else made to tell an interesting thing about its own story.

I wasn’t really prepared for how when put to the edge of it, Sword Art Online Alternative Gun Gale Online, sigh, is an anime that considers its source material, puts it in a meaningful context, and then, somehow manages to completely drop the knee on it. This is an anime made by the same people, it’s overseen by the same author and yet in this story, the characters who loved Sword Art Online, the game in their universe, which is the same name as the series in our universe, are awful. They’re emotionally constricted, desperately dangerous to themselves and others, manipulative and cruel. Our delightful hero straight up says the game they care about sucks.

I wish I could be more gung-ho about how this feels rather than what it is. Because it feels to me like this anime I am enjoying seems to think the same thing I do about its original source material, that it’s a crap thing with problems that need addressing. But it might not think it’s bad. I mean it almost certainly doesn’t think it’s bad, I don’t think Keiichi Sigsawa was locked in a cell being forced to write for Sword Art Online spinoff books, and if he was, well, dang.

But the fiction that appeals to me is an author I like, an author you see, who makes good things I like, got given a pile of money to make something for a thing I dislike, and then as a result wrote what I wanted him to write. He wrote a thing I enjoyed and that thing I enjoyed made fun of the thing he was getting paid to do. That’s a nice story. That’s satisfying.

It’s so obviously not true though right? Like that isn’t a thing that happens very often and when it does it tends to happen in industries with a lot less layers of control and constriction around them than anime production. You might see it in an indie band’s second album for a big publisher like Chumbawumba forced through with The Boy Bands Have Won, or a Troubled Production movie that bounced from studio to studio after a messy contract dissolution. This is a light novel that went through editors then that light novel went through scriptwriters and then that script went through production and at no point did someone go ‘hey! He’s callin’ our franchise shit!’ in any way that stopped things.

So I am balanced on the precarious edge of knowing there’s a satisfying, clever story here that I like, and also knowing that it is almost certainly, entirely in my head. It’s not like it’s likely to be true, but also it doesn’t hurt anything if it is true. It could be that Reki Kawahara was the person saying ‘yeah, you can beat up on my earlier work, it’s bad,’ and that made it happen. Maybe? I don’t know. And I can’t know.

I like the show a lot. I like the show so much that it feels bad that the main thing I can point to in the show for people is how much of the mistakes of its genre it doesn’t replicate. How many times the world-building of how this virtual world would intersect with the real world and the author gives an entirely sensible response. How many times it’d bring up something that other Sword Art Online media has said or implied is true and then pointed out that no, of course it doesn’t work that way, that’s dumb.

Uhhh hey, Talen, you may notice, this is Pride Month. This is a Pride Month story pile. What, as it were, is the deal? What kind of queer media shell game you trying to pull here? If this is a big ole queer show, why are you dancing around it, hmmm? HMMMMM? What, exactly, are you getting at?

And I get it. I get where you’re coming from and I get why you’re annoyed. Because the thing I’m talking about, which contextualises the whole show really differently once you see it, is something very gay in the last…. minute? Of the show. Literally. The last minute. This whole series is building up to that one minute that makes everything else in it make a lot more sense.

And it’s queer.

It’s definitely the queerness of a relationship starting, not the queerness of a relationship lasting! It’s not an anime about long term relationships or nothing! But it’s an anime where the crescendo of the narrative is about the healing power of gay kissing.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media #StoryPile

[aaryan-mwa-blogs]

The Influence of Home Recording Trends on Equipment Sales

Not too long ago, recording a professional-quality song required booking an expensive studio, hiring an engineer, and dedicating a significant budget to the process. Today, with advancements in technology and the rise of independent artists, home recording has become a mainstream trend, reshaping the way people create music and driving the demand for audio equipment like never before.

The Rise of Home Studios

The shift toward home recording is fueled by accessibility. High-speed internet, affordable digital audio workstations (DAWs), and compact yet powerful recording gear have made it possible for musicians, podcasters, and content creators to produce high-quality audio from their bedrooms. The ability to self-produce without relying on a full-fledged studio has encouraged a surge in independent music, giving artists complete creative control over their work.

Streaming platforms have also played a huge role. With artists now able to distribute their music instantly through services like Spotify and Apple Music, the need for professional-quality recordings at home has skyrocketed. This has directly influenced the demand for high-performance recording equipment.

How Home Recording Trends Impact Equipment Sales

With more people setting up home studios, the demand for recording gear has soared. Let’s break down some of the biggest areas of growth:

1. Microphones and Audio Interfaces Are in High Demand

A good microphone is at the heart of any recording setup, and with more people investing in home studios, the demand for condenser microphones, dynamic microphones, and USB mics has surged. Similarly, an audio interface—essential for converting analog signals into digital formats—has become a must-have, leading to increased sales across beginner to professional-grade models.

2. Studio Monitors and Headphones Are Gaining Popularity

Flat-response studio monitors and high-fidelity headphones are crucial for accurate mixing and mastering. Many home producers realize that consumer-grade speakers don’t offer the clarity needed for professional-quality production, leading them to invest in proper monitoring equipment.

3. MIDI Controllers and Virtual Instruments Are Essential

With software-based production becoming more common, MIDI controllers and virtual instruments have become must-haves. Electronic music producers, beat makers, and even traditional musicians are incorporating MIDI keyboards and drum pads into their workflow, driving sales in this segment.

4. Acoustic Treatment and Soundproofing Materials Are Selling More

A major challenge in home recording is controlling room acoustics. As more people recognize the importance of proper sound treatment, sales of acoustic foam panels, bass traps, and reflection filters have increased.

5. Portable Recording Gear Is a Game-Changer

Content creators who need mobile solutions for recording podcasts, interviews, or field recordings are investing in portable recording devices. Small, high-quality handheld recorders and compact audio interfaces are seeing a rise in demand as people look for flexible recording options.

The Role of Social Media in Driving Sales

One of the biggest factors fueling the home recording trend—and subsequently, equipment sales—is social media. Platforms like YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok are filled with content from home studio enthusiasts sharing setup guides, gear reviews, and music production tutorials. Aspiring creators see these setups and feel inspired to build their own, leading them to purchase the necessary equipment.

Additionally, online communities and forums have made it easier for beginners to ask questions, get recommendations, and make informed buying decisions. This has led to more consumers seeking high-quality equipment from professional audio shops that offer expert guidance and reliable gear.

The Future of Home Recording and Equipment Sales

As technology continues to advance, home recording will only become more popular. With artificial intelligence, cloud-based production tools, and even virtual reality-based studio environments emerging, the demand for recording equipment will keep evolving. We can expect:

More compact, all-in-one recording solutions

Wireless and smart audio interfaces

AI-powered mixing and mastering tools

The home recording revolution isn’t just a trend—it’s shaping the future of music production. Whether you’re an aspiring musician, a podcaster, or an independent producer, investing in the right gear can make all the difference in achieving professional sound quality from the comfort of your own space.The influence of home recording on equipment sales is undeniable. As more creators embrace self-production, the market for high-quality recording gear continues to expand. For those looking to build or upgrade their home studios, choosing equipment from professional  audio shops ensures both quality and long-term reliability, making the investment worthwhile in the long run.

[slimegreenbeats]

How to Buy Beats Online Without Getting Scammed or Selling Your Soul

So, you’ve decided to buy beats online. Maybe you’re tired of your uncle’s fire freestyle sessions over that same YouTube type beat. Or perhaps you’re finally ready to release your magnum opus and take over the rap game (watch out, Drake). Either way, you’re in the right place.

Buying beats online can be a jungle full of overpriced instrumentals, stolen samples, and producers who disappear faster than your friends when the bill arrives. But fear not—this guide will help you navigate the world of online beat purchasing without getting finessed. And if you stick around, I’ll even hook you up with some free beats (more on that later).

Step 1: Know What You Want (Before You End Up with a Polka Beat)

Before you buy a beat, you need to know what you’re looking for. Otherwise, you might accidentally end up rapping over a banjo trap fusion track—and while that could be innovative, it’s probably not what you had in mind.

Ask yourself:

Do you need a trap beat or a boom-bap beat?

Are you looking for something melodic or hard-hitting?

Do you want something that screams radio hit or something that makes people say, “Why is this man rapping over elevator music?”

Having a clear idea will save you time and prevent you from impulse-buying a beat that sounds like background music for a cooking tutorial.

Step 2: Find a Trustworthy Beat Store (Ahem, Like This One)

Now, you could go and search "buy beats online" and wade through an ocean of sketchy websites, but why risk it? Save yourself the headache and check out Slime Green Beats—where the beats are high quality, the prices are reasonable, and there’s a 100% chance you won’t get scammed.

Why choose Slime Green Beats?

High-quality production – These beats slap harder than your grandma when you forget to call her back.

Fair pricing – No ridiculous fees that make you question your life choices.

Non-sketchy transactions – No need to meet a guy in an alleyway who insists on cash-only deals.

Step 3: Understand Licensing (Or Accidentally Sell Your Soul)

Ah, beat licensing. It’s like reading the terms and conditions for a new phone—no one wants to do it, but you should unless you enjoy surprises.

There are a few types of licenses:

Lease – You pay a small fee to use the beat, but others can also lease it. Good for budget-conscious artists.

Exclusive – You and only you own the beat. Perfect if you don’t want to hear Lil Timmy rapping over your song next week.

Custom Beat – A producer makes something specifically for you. Fancy, huh?

If you don’t read the licensing terms, don’t be surprised when your song blows up and the producer calls asking for half of your future children.

Step 4: Don’t Overpay (But Don’t Be Cheap Either)

Yes, some beats cost an arm, a leg, and your firstborn child. But not all great beats are expensive. And while free beats are tempting, if you’re serious about your music, investing in a quality instrumental is a flex that actually makes sense.

Speaking of free beats, Slime Green Beats also offers free beats—so if your budget is tighter than your jeans after Thanksgiving dinner, start there.

Step 5: Download, Record, and Release Your Banger

Once you’ve bought the beat, don’t let it collect dust on your hard drive. Get to work:

Record your track (preferably not on a $10 Walmart microphone).

Mix and master (or pay someone who knows what they’re doing).

Release your song and watch it take off faster than your diet plans.

And boom! You’re now the proud owner of a professional beat, and your music career just got a whole lot more serious.

Final Thoughts: Buy Smart, Rap Hard, and Stay Out of Beat Buying Drama

Buying beats online doesn’t have to be a shady, confusing process. With a little knowledge, a good ear, and the right producer (hint: Slime Green Beats), you’ll be making hits in no time.

So, what are you waiting for? Grab your beats now and start making music that’ll have people saying, “Yo, who produced this?!”

Disclaimer: No producers were harmed in the making of this guide. However, many rappers were saved from making terrible beat-purchasing decisions.

[starseedfxofficial]

The Ultimate Guide to Nailing NFP on the 1-Minute Chart When it comes to non-farm payrolls (NFP), most traders picture high volatility, whipsawing price action, and blown accounts. But what if I told you there’s a way to thrive in the chaos—by mastering the 1-minute timeframe? Yes, the 1-minute chart might seem like a caffeine-fueled rollercoaster, but it’s a hidden gem for trading NFP with ninja-like precision. Stick with me, and I’ll share insider strategies, unheard-of techniques, and the one secret most traders overlook when navigating this high-stakes trading event. Why Most Traders Fear NFP (And How You Can Beat Them) Imagine this: NFP numbers drop, and traders across the globe panic. They overleverage, hit the wrong button, or fall victim to emotional trading. It’s like buying shoes online and realizing they’re two sizes too small—regret comes fast and hard. The truth? Most traders fear NFP because they don’t have a clear plan. But the 1-minute timeframe isn’t the problem; it’s the solution. This timeframe offers micro-level clarity, allowing you to spot entry points, avoid false moves, and ride the trend with sniper-like precision. The 1-Minute Mastery Blueprint Let’s dive into the exact steps to dominate NFP with the 1-minute chart. Ready? Here’s your game plan: Step 1: Pre-NFP Prep - Check the Calendar: Know the exact release time of the NFP report. Use reliable sources like Forex Factory to avoid surprises. - Set Key Levels: Identify support and resistance zones on higher timeframes (15M, 1H). These levels act like magnets for price action. - Assess Volatility: Look at the Average True Range (ATR) for the past 24 hours to gauge potential price swings. Step 2: The Calm Before the Storm - 15 Minutes Pre-NFP: Reduce your lot size. This isn’t the time to go all-in. Think small, act smart. - Watch the Spreads: Widening spreads during NFP can eat into your profits. Choose a broker with tight spreads (no funny business). Step 3: The NFP Explosion - Wait for the Fake-Out: The first spike after the news release is often a trap. Avoid the urge to jump in—let the amateurs make their mistakes. - Follow the Real Momentum: After the initial fake-out, identify the real trend. Use tools like the RSI or MACD to confirm the direction. Step 4: Ninja-Level Entry - Use Pending Orders: Place buy-stop or sell-stop orders just above or below key levels to catch the real move. - Risk Management First: Set a stop-loss below the last significant low (for buys) or above the last high (for sells). Aim for a 1:2 risk-reward ratio. Step 5: Secure the Bag - Trail Your Stop: As the trade moves in your favor, trail your stop-loss to lock in profits. - Don’t Be Greedy: Exit partially at predefined levels. The market can reverse faster than you can say "NFP whipsaw." Insider Tips That Separate the Pros From the Rookies 1. Trade Like a Sniper, Not a Machine Gunner Overtrading is the #1 enemy on the 1-minute chart. Be patient. Wait for high-probability setups, and remember: quality over quantity. 2. Leverage the Power of Correlation Before jumping in, check related markets like the USD Index or Gold. If they confirm your bias, your trade has a higher chance of success. 3. Myth-Busting the “Too Small” Timeframe Contrary to popular belief, the 1-minute chart isn’t too noisy. It’s a goldmine for quick scalps when paired with the right tools, like Bollinger Bands or VWAP. Case Study: Turning Chaos Into Opportunity In October 2024, NFP exceeded expectations, adding 336,000 jobs. The EUR/USD spiked 60 pips in two minutes before reversing. Here’s how a trader (let’s call him Alex) nailed it: - Preparation: Alex marked key levels on the 1-hour chart and set pending orders. - Execution: He ignored the fake-out, entering long after a confirmed breakout above resistance. - Result: Alex secured a 3:1 risk-reward trade in under five minutes. The takeaway? Preparation + patience = profits. Advanced Strategies for 1-Minute NFP Trading 1. The “Bracket Strategy” Place a buy-stop above resistance and a sell-stop below support 5 minutes before NFP. Once the real trend emerges, one order activates, while the other serves as a hedge. 2. The “Hidden Liquidity Hunt” Big players leave clues—hidden liquidity zones where price often reverses. Use Volume Profile to spot these zones and position yourself ahead of the herd. Wrapping It All Up Trading NFP on the 1-minute timeframe isn’t for the faint of heart, but with preparation, discipline, and the strategies shared here, you can turn chaos into opportunity. Remember, the market rewards the prepared trader—not the lucky one. Essential Takeaways - Wait for the fake-out. - Use tight stops and smaller lot sizes. - Leverage correlation for added confirmation. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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[suburbancashforcars-blog]

Recycle Your Driveway by Getting Rid of Your Scrap Car in Adelaide

You may get a cash quote for your trash car from us in just moments. We buy junk cars instantly and provide free towing throughout the condition. You drive into your property every day and dread seeing the once cherished vehicle in the yard, knowing that you let it deteriorate to the condition that it is now. Don’t beat yourself up. There is a solution that will put your mind at ease. Sell your scrap cars for cash offers old car owners a solution for their cars, a winning situation for the owner and the environment. Let us tell you what that solution is.

Quick Transaction For Your Old Car

We’ve all heard that sound when you try to begin an old car, and the engine refuses to turn over. Sometimes this is because it simply needs a new battery, and it might also simply be a problem with the alternator.

But other times, it’s the last straw, and you’re not willing to pay for any more repairs. Perhaps the vehicle has been sitting on someone’s property or has incurred necessary damage, & repairing it is more trouble than it’s worth. Whatever the reason, you’re left with an old clunker and wondering how to get rid of a vehicle with over a hundred thousand miles. You could be wondering how to obtain rid of that old vehicle.

Is it possible to obtain cash for vintage cars? Do people even buy non-running antique cars? Fortunately, numerous companies will pay you for auto disposal, including free towing and transfer from any area.

How to Get Rid of a Junk Car

There are various choices for getting rid of a dead or old car, and they are not, however, all created equal. The most common methods to get rid of an old car are to trade it, take it to a wrecking yard, donate it, and sell it to a private individual – but these alternatives aren’t without costs.

While it is true that you can take cash for a junk car to a scrap yard and usually get a few dollars for it, this is not always the most excellent option. To begin with, Cash for unwanted car removals in Adelaide usually provide scrap metal prices for old junk cars. Those prices are near all-time lows, which means that the average vehicle will get less than before you factor in the cost of towing your vehicle.

Your car may have optional upgrades or luxury features that improve its value & a working catalytic converter is laden with valuable metals like palladium. It can earn you more, but junkyards usually will not pay extra for those things. They are attempting to maximize their profits in all ways possible.

On the other hand, at Suburban Cash for Cars Adelaide, we purchase junk cars, and our professionals specialize in appraising and valuing less-than-perfect autos. So, if you’re wondering how much you can get for selling an old car, try our online price tool to get a guaranteed, no-obligation offer only moments after enquiry!

We can come out, pick up your car, and provide you cash in as little as 24-48 hours if you like what you visit. Don’t worry, the car towing & offer are both free!

Alternatives for Getting Cash for Your Old Car

You may also think of selling your vehicle for private sale on popular websites such as Gumtree, as private purchasers manage to spend more than junkyards. However, they come with their issues, making them a less convenient alternative to receiving cash for your old car.

To start with, the time needed to complete a personal sale is indefinite. While waiting for the perfect buyer, you could be trapped with your old junk vehicle for weeks or months. If acquiring cash for your old car as soon as possible is essential to you, then selling it privately may not be the best option.

Most purchasers will not even think about acquiring a vehicle with necessary damage or that isn’t operating. So you’ll also have to consider the cost of repairs & which are impossible to estimate unless you’ve already engaged them. The inconvenient viewings and the risk of dealing with unknown purchasers who may be there to “kick the tires” and waste your time with poor bids.

You might separate your car instead, but this requires time and experience. The average vehicle contains over parts. You’ll require to be mechanically qualified to break everything down, value it all out, & guarantee you’re getting a reasonable cost for everything you trade.

These Options will Undoubtedly Result in a Lower Price, What is the value of your time to you?

Finally, you have the choice of donating your vehicles. However, this delivers a minor monetary benefit because a tax write-off does not directly reduce the amount of taxes you owe but instead reduces the amount of taxable income the government considers when deciding what you owe. Your several hundred dollar cars may save you less in taxes come tax season, not to mention the paperwork required to claim that credit. Getting reliable auto recycling services in Adelaide is pretty comfortable with the help of the internet. We get a lot of valuable details within a minute either we look around for any car technician, car wash or used auto parts store, wrecking yard, used car buyer or car insurance. 

Get Rid of Your Scrap Car with Suburban Cash for Cars Adelaide

Unless you want to become a small-scale used car dealer or transform your garage into a mini-junkyard, the most excellent way to obtain quick and straightforward cash for junk cars is at Suburban Cash for Cars in Adelaide, SA.

We’ll make you a guaranteed, no-hassle offer on your old car, truck, van, or SUV in less than two minutes. There is no responsibility to trade, so you are free to shop around. We’ll be there in 24-48 hours with free towing and on-the-spot payment when you accept your offer.