#I KNOW it's not true like are you kidding me

[emptymanuscript]

XD!

So, laugh rule but also:

What’s kinda throwing me is that I think this is actually pretty close to the central thesis of the actual mystical/religious tradition/lineage I’m actually in.

Like, the belief is absolutely that the god we call God is real (as are many other gods and other things) but that the fundamental idea of Divinity vs Mortality is not real. That the fundamental purpose of most religious thought is so the Divine can keep us in our place, even though we’re perfectly capable of doing what they do and achieving apotheosis into being without a difference. The problem with God is that He thinks He’s it and the problem with people is that we think we aren’t.

And, yeah, the fundamental task of the novitiate (initiate? I’m always fuzzy on those. The person just starting out who knows enough to look but enough, yet, to do. Early level apprentice who is learning the ropes sort of person) is to Self Create.

Like that’s the most necessary part of the tradition. You’re supposed to study your little butt off (obviously why I am drawn to it XD, studying everything as a religious devotion? Sign me up! I am a B+ child and I want you to love me teacher XD). But the purpose of the study is to find the hidden resonances, what is actually true, that is not actually recorded in full anywhere because you are divine so only you can fully define you.

It’s self definition by using the other. I am that. I am not that. I am like that but not in this way, etc. Just using metaphysical principles rather than your social group.

Or, I suppose, in ADDITION to your social group.

My actual biggest criticism of my tradition lineage is how often we’re inconsiderate assholes. Not just that we’re not nice people but that we’re not nice people in and on principle. For whatever reason (some I know and some I don’t) the first thing we seem to say we’re not is good, kind, and caring. Like, the exact thing we would want in our own deities and berate the Demiurge (the god who thinks He is God because He was the deity that did all the original creating as far as He is concerned) for not being is what we’re not going to do, too.

Which I get as an act of anger and provocation and boundaries. But I really don’t understand as a mature decision for the path of one’s life. I hear it’s better to reign in hell than serve in heaven but nothing I see demands that that is the actual choice at hand.

There IS a lot of worship. And, yeah, I think part of the draw to my tradition/lineage is that it speaks to lonely weird people who are happier surrounded by books than crowds. But there’s nothing actually NECESSARY to the path about starting a cult, claiming that you’re evil, and then proving it by manipulation and lies. But somehow, those are all the famous people writing the influential texts.

Like, why not be the sort of person you wish that a deity would be. Be your own dream fulfillment. And instead of putting yourself up at the top of a pyramid of something icky, just be the sort of person that other people like hanging around.

Of course, that may just be me being a novice. Wizards aren’t exactly known for their EQ. We know the forbidden names of gods and a whole mess of trivia. My current joke is that if you want to find one of us, go looking for a party. Go to the weirdest one you find. Like, these are not the cool kids, you get me? Look at the people who are up against the wall, not partying. Find the most boring person out of them. That’s your most likely candidate to be a Wizard.

If they are, the questions to ask are ones that lead you to awareness of their humility and sure confidence in themselves.

The more confident they are that they know the secrets of the universe, as a whole, for everything and everybody, the farther back toward initiation they are. The more they need to fight for their own self definition and boundaries, the closer they are to being in the “middle” of their journey. It’s not really the middle it’s simply that you’re very self confident at the very start and very self confident at the end. But the majority of the journey is taking a hammer to the ego when we’re often the sort of people who don’t have a lot of ego defenses to spare.

Which means defensiveness and love/worship cravings are rampant. A great area to promote Narcissistic impulses.

That’s actually a big warning I’ve run into a few times now. That a lot of people simply break and become these megalomaniacal monsters who are just completely full of themselves and their arcane power. They become Demiurge like. They think they’re it. You’re just a prop to them and their power trip fantasy.

Mostly, I hear the solution to be this gray ascetic humility. That the world is illusory and transitory and that includes me and my feelings. So you become this immovable, unimpressable center point. Nothing bothers you. It’s why I talk about my own lineage as shit-eaters. Because that’s a literal example from them. That you should be able to have the same experience and same emotional impact whether you have the best meal of your life or eat literal feces. All that matters is your will and willpower and, yeah, power… so you can enact your will.

Can’t say I like the idea. I do not particularly want to eat feces. I like enjoying food. And this dichotomy strikes me as false. You either reject life or are conquered by it. Meh. I like dialectical thinking not dualistic thinking. And the entire point is to make something new. Something you. Not to simply repeat the old lies and oppression.

If you’re a god, great. Namaste. In all humility and seriousness. I see and acknowledge the divine in you. I welcome it. But as a living, breathing, experiencing person who participates in the world with other people, I would ask some questions:

What are the benefits of your worship to you?

What are the benefits of your worship to your worshippers?

How are you the same as your worshippers?

How are you different from your worshippers?

What are the drawbacks and costs to you that come from your being worshipped?

What are the drawbacks and costs to your worshippers from worshipping you?

If you put yourself in the place of one of your worshippers (pick a few at random) would you feel the benefits and costs weighed out in your favor?

If you put one of your worshippers in your place (pick a few at random) would you come to the conclusion from the outside, with a godlike view of the whole situation, that it weighted out to an activity that was ultimately favorable to them?

For the worshipper you have put in your place, would you be satisfied with how their worshipper’s lives would work out for them in the care of that other?

What would be the benefits to you of rejecting the idea of being worshipped all together?

What would be the costs to you of giving up that particular place at the center for just being one of that particular group you get along with?

DO you actually get along with your worshippers when they aren’t worshipping you? Or do you only like them for their worship? Are they the people you would surround yourself with if you weren’t in this group together?

What benefits might they get from being let go from worshipping you? From being let go from the group?

What would it cost them if they were to stop worshipping you? What would they necessarily lose if they left the group?

Looking at the balance of your answers to these questions and comparing it to likely possible alternatives (NOT the best, NOT the worst, NOT the strangest), is worshipping you the best thing for your worshippers?

Looking at the balance and considering the likely possible alternatives for yourself, is being worshipped in this way the best thing for you?

Looking at all the answers that you’ve written out, and being honest with yourself, with the full divine view of what is and what could be, is this situation what you actually want? Would that answer change if it was for someone else? WHY? WHY is this the best arrangement? Or WHY isn’t this good enough? WHY does it matter who the worshipped is versus an alternative versus the worshippers? WHY? WHY? WHY? There is a reason that children demand this endlessly. It is the most necessary question to understand their lives. That doesn’t really change when a child grows up and realizes their own divinity.

They say you gotta worship god because he created stuff, but I created myself, and my epic boobs, and I'm real, so aren't I better than god? Maybe I should be worshipped. Much to think about

[rainydayathogwarts]

Love at first sight - Sirius Black

summary: lily's sister who goes to beauxbatons throws the party of the summer which sparks likely friendships, and an even likelier romance. wc: 2.3k

Lily came into the Great Hall the same way she always did: a determined look on her face, chin lifted up confidently, carrying overflowing papers in her arms, but something was different. Those paper she carried? They weren’t filled with head girl applications or polished assignments, no, they were party invitations.

She sat at her usual seat, and as per usual, the marauders ruffled through her papers. “Party invitations?” Whispered Sirius excitedly, as though it was something secret. Lily puffed her chest out “Y/n’s throwing a party, and encouraged me to extend the invitations to some Hogwarts students.” James cleared his throat to stop himself from choking on his tea. “I’m sorry? Your parents are letting you throw a party? The same two people who didn’t let you come over to Marlene’s tea party?” Lily grinned widely. “Well, y/n only comes home during the summers. I’m there every winter and spring break , so she kind of has a way with our parents. All she had to say was ‘this is our last summer before we graduate’ and she had them.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Marlene cut in, her face lighting up, “If this is y/n’s party, does this mean it’s going to be filled with sexy french kids?” Lily nodded happily, sharing a look with the other marauders. It was going to be the party of the year.

You and Lily were the epitome of opposites. You’d engrossed yourself in getting to know all the kids in the neighborhood and quickly because friends with your french neighbour, while Lily only befriended one — Severus. By force of being around the young boy, you’d learned his language, his language which quickly became your own. Whilst you and Lily had your own friends, no one was closer to you both than each other. You were twins, not only blood brothers but best friends. Due to your linguistic talent, you’d not only received a letter from Hogwarts on your eleventh birthday, but from Beauxbatons too. Petunia, ever so jealous of your relationship and your magic, had duped your parents into sending you away.

Petunia had ran off crying, locked in her room alone until she formed the plan of the century to break your relationship with your twin apart. “Well, they’re always together. Isn’t it better for them to learn how to live apart from each other?” And your parents had fallen for her trick. Now, you only saw each other during the summers, and your relationship was stronger than ever. But things would soon change.

The only thing Lily heard of for the rest of the day was this party. Who was she inviting? How many people would be there? “Sirius, it’s not my party. I don’t know the details. All I’ve been told is that I have these invitations to give out to people.” Sirius stared at the front of the boldly decorated invitation on the top of the pile which read in a glittery font ‘No invite, no entry!’ He ran a rough estimate in his mind and decided there had to be at least seventy invitations in the stack of papers. “Can I help give them out?”

Lily and Sirius had proudly made up a list of who to invite, or not to invite, the rest of the marauders eventually gathering around to put in their own two cents. When the invitations had been given out, Lily returned to her dorm whilst the marauders all sat in front of the black lake, soaking up the limited sun rays whilst staring at their own invitations. “This is some high end decor.” Commented Remus, turning his invitation in his hands. The fonts had been carefully chosen, and a textured disco ball sat in the centre of the page. “Yeah, according to Lily, y/n loooves to party.” Marlene added, laying on her back. “I’m excited to meet her,” started James “She sounds fun, and we barely ever hear about her from Lily.”

Sirius hummed, gears turning in his brain. “Lily said they’re nothing alike.” He recalls. It was true. You and Lily weren’t only opposites in terms of personality, but looks too. Despite being twins, you had taken all of your father’s genes while Lily took after your mother. No one ever believed you when you said you were twins, let alone siblings.

The party was nearly an entire month later. The marauders found themselves outside an ordinary muggle house, glancing at each other nervously. Had they arrived too early? Marlene glanced down at her invitation, ensuring that they were there right on time. A knock on the door and they were waiting. The door slammed open and they were met with you, a bright smile on your face and a tray in the other with an array of pink and blue jell-o shots. You weren’t the only thing that welcomed them, but the loud roar of noise from inside the house blasted them too. Remus cocked an eyebrow, thinking ‘That’s one mean silencing charm.’ “Grab a drink you guys!” You called, holding the door open with your foot as you moved to the side for them to come in. You introduced yourself over the noise, clueless to the mesmerised eyes following you.

Sirius let himself be dragged into the house by Remus, though his eyes followed you as you escaped into the backyard. Lily had been right, you weren’t nothing alike. You wore fishnets under your small denim shorts, your top exposing more than just midriff. He gulped, trying not to be caught staring at your breasts when you turned around, instead moving his gaze to the endless jewellery you wore.

Sirius heard himself gasp — apparently the french like to be early. The party in the backyard was lit, he finally noticed, with groups of people already playing beer pong, dancing to the music, and even exchanging light conversation. Lily ran to join them, trying to properly introduce you to her friends, but you were running back to the door as the bell rung once more.  Apparently everyone arrived at once, because a crowd of people suddenly flooded the living room. A mix of elegant french and fast english chatter filled the air, and Sirius saw Marlene’s jaw drop, already picking the girl she was going to spend the rest of the night flirting with. Just as Lily was about to catch you, you jumped onto the coffee table, pointing your wand to your neck with an amplification charm.

“Okay, listen up everyone!” You called out, and from within the crowd, Sirius caught your eye, his muscular arms thrown over two of his friends' shoulders. You hadn’t properly noticed him when he walked in, but now? You shook the thought out of your head. “We have about 200 wizards in this house. A house that you can tell is in a muggle neighbourhood! Now, my silencing charm may be great, but it doesn’t hide magical activity! So if we can keep the magic down to a minimum and get the party up to a maximum that would be great! Where’s my music!?” And suddenly the music roared to life. Sirius shoved to the front of the crowd, offering you a hand to help you down from the coffee table. You felt your stomach jump at his offer, the light reflecting off his silver jewellery. Instead of taking Sirius’s hand, you wrapped your arms around his neck, swinging your legs off the table. Sirius snaked his arms around your waist without missing a beat, spinning you around so you let out a joyous laugh. “And who might you be?” You asked, running your hands down his chest before letting them hang by your sides.

Sirius curtseyed, miming saluting you with a hat whilst very poshly saying “Sirius Black, at your service.” You giggled, putting both your hands on his bicep. “Hey, you met Sirius!” Lily cut in, bumping you with her hip. You met her eyes, and they glinted with mischief. She most definitely knew how attracted you were to Sirius in that moment. “Come meet the others!” She didn’t give you time to respond, instead tugging you away from the curly haired boy. You waved at him, yelling “I’ll see you later!” and then “Shut up” to Lily when you turned around. You didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling like the cheshire cat.

James was the first to bring you into a hug, his hands respectfully patting your back. You turned to look at Lily, nodding in approval. Your introductions with Remus and Marlene were quick, witty comments given by each of them before Marlene so boldly asked “Hey, is that cute brunette over there into girls?” You laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to be more specific, but for you? Anyone would be into girls.” Simple to say, Marlene turned bright red, and not because of the warmth the alcohol had given her.

When Sirius returned to the group, you were already gone, dancing with your friends. He threw his arms around James’s shoulders, resting his head on his best friends’s shoulder. “James, we’re going to be brothers in law!” The boy barked out a laugh, pushing Sirius away to look at him properly. “I’m in love with her James.” Remus laughed, slapping a hand on Sirius’s back. “Well what are you going to do about it buddy?” He asked, sharing an amused glance with James. “I’m going to convince her to come to Hogwarts. Wait! First, I’m going to make her fall in love with me!” Sirius frowned at his two friends’ loud laughs, muttering something like “I’ll show you.” But he didn’t have the chance to come find you in the crowd, because two pairs of hands were placed upon his shoulders, and you appeared, saying “Come dance with me.”

Sirius almost passed out at your offer, blindly following you onto the dance floor and missing the surprised look Remus and James shot each other. Apparently, you wouldn't need much convincing to fall for Sirius. Sirius took your hand, spinning you around, and you looking him up, looking around as though it would hide the bite of your lip. Sirius’s jeans were just tight enough around the crotch, and low waisted enough that every time he raised his arms too high, a sliver of his abdomen would show as his top would ride up. You spun around in Sirius’s arms, pressing your back against his chest. His hands trailed down to your hips, tugging them closer to his own. You giggled, moving your body alongside the music. Sirius groaned, whispering the lyrics in your ear, his hot breath hitting your sweaty skin.

The next time Sirius groaned, it wasn’t out of enjoyment, it was because someone had called out your name. “Viens avec nous? Just une cigarette!” (Come with us? Just one cigarette!) You had laughed at your friend’s words, shaking your head. “Non, il est trop beau, je ne veux pas le quitter!” (No, he’s so gorgeous, I don’t want to leave him!) Sirius hummed as you turned around in his arms, putting both your hands on his chest. “Come outside with me! Somewhere we can talk!” You grinned, sliding both your hands down in his, and letting him drag you outside.

You let Sirius guide you to a less crowded side of your garden, where you could people watch without being disturbed. You pushed Sirius against the wall of your backyard, watching as his eyebrows flew upwards in surprise. “So, Mr. Black, what would you like to discuss?” Sirius felt his heart surge, its pace quickening by the second, and he was sure you could feel it under your fingertips too. “Go out with me.” He heard himself blurt, and his eyes went wide at his own question. You laughed, looking around. “Aren’t we out right now?” The silence he left you with made you giggle, leaning your head forward on his chest. “I’m just joking.” Sirius shoulders slumped down in relief, hands loosely gripping your hips.

“I don’t want this to just be a little party flirt. I want to really get to know you. You… you seem cool.” You pressed yourself onto your tip toes, leaning forward to softly kiss Sirius. He sighed as you pulled away, chasing the kiss softly, but you refused to reconnect your lips. “I’d really like that.” Sirius smiled widely, pulling you flat against his body. “And hey, who knows, maybe you can show me around Hogwarts?” Sirius nodded, replying with “Yeah of- wait, what?” You straightened your back, cocking your head to the side. “Yeah, I’m moving to Hogwarts next year. Mum and dad finally had enough of me being so far away.” You interrupted yourself with your own laugh, pushing yourself off of him and looking around. “That’s what this is! My goodbye slash welcome party. Didn’t Lily tell you?” Sirius shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Well since I’ll be seeing more of you, can I properly kiss you now?”

Nodding at Sirius, you let him tug you closer to him, bringing you into a passionate kiss. You gasped at the force of his kiss, letting Sirius slide his tongue into your mouth. Moaning softly, you brought your hands up to cup Sirius’s face, pushing your body even deeper into his. “Oh my!” You pulled away from Sirius harshly, stumbling away from him. “I mean, I knew you guys had something going on, but I didn’t know it was going on.” You felt your face flush at Lily’s words, and heard Sirius cry out from behind you “Why didn’t you tell us she’s joining next year!?” James, from next to Lily, turned to face her, surprise overtaking his features. “I wanted to see how you guys got along before telling anyone!”

Remus approached the four of you, tipsily mumbling “Marlene has a roster of like three girls right now, and I just overheard some guy saying he wants to jump in the lake. I didn’t know there was a lake.” Remus stood silently, finally taking in the scene in front of him.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe

[imsofreakingtired]

Hi! I love your writing <3

I wanted to ask,can you please write something about really drunk Sevika being vulnerable with reader and reader comforting her?

Maybe drunk Sev talking about how tired she is or her expressing some insecurity?

anon i love this ask so much, here u go<3

tired (angst, hurt/comfort)

content warning(s): alcohol abuse, heavy(ish?) angst

“you haven’t felt right for days is it the fact you never say what comes in your mind that day? maybe it’s time to shut away ‘cause i’ve never really felt okay.” 

~~~

You can’t find Sevika anywhere—she’s not at the Last Drop, she’s not at the harbor, and no one in the Shimmer warehouse has seen her all day. You finally find her up in Silco’s empty office, sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of hard liquor and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her prosthetic arm is detached, propped up against the low table. You remember that Silco’s away on a trip uptown for the night, something about him needing to buy things for Jinx’s room. The room is so silent you can hear everything in the streets outside—the fights, the drunk laughter, the rumble of wheels. Somewhere deep beneath the building you hear the distant boom of an explosion—Jinx must be working on her experiments. 

“Sevika?” you say in a low voice. She gives a start, stares at you like she’s never seen you before. 

“Hey,” she says. Her gaze is slightly unfocused, and in the dim light of the lamp the rings beneath her grey eyes look deeper and heavier than you remembered. 

“You okay?” 

You approach her slowly. You’ve never seen her like this before—sitting in this slouched position, hand limp, absent-minded. You feel a sudden concern. Is she sick? But that was like wondering if the sun shined at night. Sevika didn’t get sick. 

“I’m fine,” Sevika says gruffly. 

You feel her forehead anyway. Half-heartedly, she bats your hand away. You’re closer to her now and can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Hey,” Sevika says again. “Why do you stick around?”  

“What?” 

She raises the bottle to her mouth, but seems to decide even that motion requires too much energy. She lets the bottle roll onto the floor. It was empty anyway. 

“I’d leave me, y’know, if I could,” Sevika mutters. “So why don’t you.” 

Then you understand. The slurring of words. The heavy tone. She’s drunk. This is somehow even more alarming than if she were sick. Sevika doesn’t get drunk. She has a powerful alcohol tolerance and disciplines herself with a limit to how much she can drink each day. She can’t afford to get carried away, doesn’t have the time to let herself fully escape from the world. There’s just too much to do. Silencing Silco’s opponents. Overseeing shipments. Bribing Piltie suppliers. Making deals with the magistrates of Zaunite districts. And, lately, cleaning up Jinx’s messes. 

At any rate, though, she’s drunk now—no doubt about it. You’re almost fascinated. Working at the Last Drop, you’ve seen any number of drunks: some sobbed loudly about past wrongs, some picked violent fights, some jumped up on tables and sang. But Sevika is collected even in intoxication. Her voice is subdued, and she looks more tired than anything. 

“I stick around because I care about you,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting down beside Sevika. 

“I’m no good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m no good. You deserve better.” 

“Don’t say that, Sevi. It isn’t true.”

There’s something desperate in the way she’s looking at you—a raw plea in her eyes. You cup her face in your hand, raising her chin to look her in the eye. “Hey,” you say softly. “It’s okay. Talk to me.” 

She looks away. “I feel like I’m holding up a crumbling brick wall. I’m walking through these streets and I see these kids, you know, playing in the gutter and looking up at me with their hungry eyes, and my chest gets so tight I think I might die.” She shakes her head, draws in a shuddering breath. “It’s never enough. No matter what I do, what choices I make. It’s never enough. I’m never enough.” 

“You’re doing all you can.”

“I’ve done horrible things. I close my eyes and I see these…these faces, these twisted angry faces, cursing me for what I’ve done to them.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” 

“I had the choices. I made all the wrong decisions.” Her voice breaks and she stops abruptly, biting her lip. “I just…I just don’t know myself anymore.” 

“I know you,” you tell her. “And I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re more than enough.” 

She looks at you tiredly. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her broad shoulders.

“It's okay, Sevi. I’m here.” 

With a deep sigh she rests her head in your lap, and you stroke her hair until she falls asleep. You don’t leave her side even after you hear her slowed breathing. You stay there, running your fingers through her hair, threading out the heavy thoughts, warding away the nightmares. She won’t remember this in the morning. She would deny she ever gave a thought to any of what she told you, let alone spoke them aloud. So you store her secrets in your heart for her. If you could take away her burdens by doubling your own, you would. 

In her sleep, Sevika clings tightly to you.

[lazysoulwriter]

Through Tipsy Eyes - Harry Styles.

The living room was dimly lit, the fairy lights you insisted on keeping year-round casting a soft glow across the room. A bowl of popcorn sat half-forgotten on the coffee table, flanked by two glasses—yours still half-full, Harry’s empty. You glanced over at him sprawled across the couch, cheeks flushed, curls a mess, and an undeniably goofy grin plastered across his face. He was drunk. Very drunk.

“Y/N,” he drawled, voice low and rasping in that way that made your skin tingle. “Y/N, d’you even know how beautiful you are?”

You snorted, pulling the blanket further over your legs. “Harry, you’ve told me that about ten times in the last five minutes.”

“Well,” he paused, hiccuping, “it’s true. You’re… you’re so beautiful I can’t… I can’t even…” He flailed his hands dramatically before letting them fall back to his chest. “You’re, like, annoyingly beautiful. How’s a man supposed to cope?”

“By not drinking four margaritas back-to-back, maybe?” you teased, leaning over to poke his cheek. He caught your hand and held it against his face, nuzzling into your palm like a cat.

“’M not even that drunk,” he protested, though the slight slur in his words begged to differ.

“Oh, really?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been laying there for ten minutes, staring at me like I’m the love of your life.”

“You are the love of my life,” he said immediately, eyes wide with drunken sincerity. “I’d fight anyone who said otherwise. Actually, I’d fight everyone. All of them. Line ’em up.”

You burst out laughing, and Harry pouted. “Don’t laugh at me,” he whined. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“I know you are,” you said, still giggling as you leaned over to kiss his forehead. “And it’s very sweet, H. But maybe save the declarations of war for when you’re sober, yeah?”

He hummed, seemingly pacified, and then his eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. “You’re so lucky to have me,” he said, grinning like a child who’d just discovered a secret. “I’m… what do the kids say these days? A catch.”

You rolled your eyes but played along. “Oh, absolutely. The biggest catch. What would I do without you?”

“Probably date some boring guy your age,” he teased, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Harry, you’re only four years older than me,” you shot back. “You make it sound like there’s some massive age gap.”

“Four years is a lot!” he insisted, sitting up slightly and gesturing wildly. “When I was four, you weren’t even born yet. That’s wild.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it with a triumphant grin.

“…But seriously, Y/N,” he said, voice dropping to that husky tone that made your heart stutter. “You’re… you’re everything. Did you know that?”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

“No,” he said firmly, sitting up fully now, though the movement made him wobble slightly. “I mean it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Before you could respond, he reached out and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and you could feel his breath against your neck, warm and slightly unsteady.

“I love you,” he mumbled, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

Your heart swelled, and you tilted your head to press a kiss to his temple. “I love you too, H.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes shining with a mix of affection and mischief. “Do you think we’ll be one of those couples everyone’s jealous of? You know, like, disgustingly in love?”

“We already are,” you said with a laugh, brushing a curl away from his forehead.

“Good,” he said, nodding decisively. “’Cause I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing patterns on the back of his neck. “You’re such a sap when you’re drunk.”

“’M always a sap,” he admitted with a grin. “But you love it.”

“Maybe I do,” you said, your voice soft.

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “…Do you think you could feed me?”

You blinked, confused. “Feed you? Harry, there’s popcorn right there.”

He shook his head, a sly smile curving his lips. “Not popcorn, love. You know what I mean.”

It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, your eyes widened. “Harry!”

“C’mon,” he said, his grin turning cheeky. “If I’m your baby like you always say, doesn’t that mean I should… y’know, be fed properly?”

Your jaw dropped, and he laughed at your reaction, his head falling back against the couch. “I’m just kidding! Sort of.”

You narrowed your eyes, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you love me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Unfortunately,” you quipped, but the teasing edge in your voice was soft.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, cutting off his cheeky remarks. His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the kiss deepened. When you pulled back slightly, your foreheads still touching, you smirked, already feeling his hands on your boobs.

“Permission granted,” you whispered.

His eyes lit up, his grin somehow managing to be both playful and adoring. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you replied, pressing one last kiss to his lips before settling against his chest.

Drunk Harry might be cheeky, but he was your cheeky, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[morganbritton132]

Adding onto Steve's crime spree from this (and this and this)

Eddie has determined that he's not asking the right questions in life.

Is he questioning the man? Yes. Every day.

Is he asking Wayne for help when his van shits the bed on Thursday? No. When his van is still unusable come Saturday, did he ask his friends if he could catch a ride to band practice? No.

Did he ask if he could get a ride home? Also no.

It's raining and Eddie regrets his life choices so hard, he doesn't notice the Porsche 928 until it blows through the crosswalk he was about to step onto. He's hit with a tidal wave of frigid early November street water because, of course, he is.

"Fuck's sake," Eddie swore, pushing his wet hair out of his face. In his perphery, the Porche slams on its breaks and rolls back into the crosswalk beside him, but he barely notices. Talking to the driver, the world, or god, Eddie does not know when he rants, "Thanks! Thanks for that, I really need pnumonia. Thanks for bestowing-"

"Sorry, man," Steve says, an apologetic wince sticking out of the open window of the Porche. "Wanna ride? I can take you where you're going."

Eddie looks at the car, then at Steve, and then back at the car and signs, "...Fine, but only because this car is beautiful and not to expunge your guilt."

"Dude, I don't think a sponge is going to help."

Eddie rolls his eyes but sticks his guitar in the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. He has to physically stop himself from touching everything. He's never even seen a Porche before, wow.

Steve's in the driver's seat looking like he's dying for Eddie to ask about the car so he can talk about it. Honestly, Eddie wants to ask about the car. He probably should have asked about the car but instead, he shakes the water out of his hair like a dog as payback.

"C'mon, man," Steve complains, wiping the water off his face. "Watch the leather."

Eddie gives him directions and then bites the bullet. He asks the wrong question, "You trade in the Beamer?"

"No way. That's my baby," He says. "I'm just borrowing this lady."

The conversation is actually nice. None of Eddie's friends know anything about cars but Steve seems to know a lot. He can almost forgive the guy for being a jock and the psychological warfare he's bestowed onto Eddie's brain the past week and a half, but then-

“It sounds like - shit," Eddie says, echoing the same sentiment as Steve at the sight of flashing red and blue lights in the rear view. A question he should've been asking all along occurs to him, "Did you steal this car?"

Steve gives him an annoyed look and then rolls down his window, smiling that All-American smile, "Heya, Hop. Didn't think you were working today."

"This car was reported stolen."

Eddie swears, sinking into the leather with the hopes that it eats him. Steve doesn't even hesitate, "Let me guess, Mrs. Woolledge? Crazy she knows what all her neighbors are doing but not that her kid's on dope."

Hopper doesn't say anything and the silence is loud so Steve adds, "It's not stolen. It's my dad's car. I have permission."

"From your dad?" Hopper asks, getting an annoyed nod from Steve. "Same dad that's out of town?"

"Well, Hop. There's this thing called a phone."

"You get that MRI...right? Throw the keys out the window," Hopper says. Eddie's mentally preparing on how he's going to explain this to Wayne when he calls from jail. Steve protests. Hopper demands, "Throw. The keys. Out. The. Window. Now."

Steve seems to realize that he's pushing his luck because he does just that. He even gets out of the car when Hopper tells him to. Hopper tells him to get in his truck and Steve straight up lies, "Hop, I'm taking my friend home. We're working on a school project together. At his house.”

Eddie curses Steve's entire bloodline from start to finish when Hopper lookings directly at him still in the car, "That true?"

Say no. Say you don't know him. Say you know nothing. Say anything but, "Yes."

"What subject?'

"History," Steve says at the same time Eddie says 'Art' and then rolls his eyes, "Art history, yeah?"

Hopper nods like he thinks they're full of shit and then tells them both to get in his truck.

Steve protests but more about leaving the car on the street than anything else while Eddie briefly thinks about the psychic his mom used to know. He wonders if she could curse someone for real. Maybe he can call her from jail.

He's fully ready to see the police station that he fails to realize where Hopper's going until they’re in Forest Hills. He turns and looks at both of them and says, "I'd like to know what grade you get on this project."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Steve says with a salute, pulling Eddie out of the car. Once they're inside, Steve peaks out the blinds like, "Yeah, he'll sit there for a while. He thinks I'm lying. Wanna smoke?"

Eddie is baffled, "No."

"Okay," Steve shrugs and flops down on the couch. He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and adds, "Spare key. We just gotta wait until he's gone and can circle back for your guitar."

The only thing Eddie can think is, “what the fuck” and he doesn’t even know which part he’s talking about.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Derby Day | Buddy & Monkey: Double The Trouble

just small blurb inspired by yesterday's game.

double the trouble masterlist

“I’m cold, Nana!” You whined, your little body shivering despite the pink puffer jacket wrapped snugly around you.

“I know, sweetheart,” Amanda replied, her voice soft and soothing, “It’s a good job you’ve got a big puffer jacket on to keep you warm, isn’t it?”

“I’m still cold, though. I don’ like it!” You squirmed in your seat, frustration bubbling as the icy rain drizzled down around you.

You weren’t having a good time at all. The cold, biting air somehow seemed to cut straight through your coat, and after a weekend filled with back-to-back games, you were utterly exhausted.

Sitting in the pouring rain at Samford Bridge, tired, wet and grumpy your mood was quickly going downhill.

Arsenal were losing. To make matters worse, Katie had just been sent off the pitch. That was the final straw.

You’d had enough.

“Boo! Bad ref! No’ like ‘ou!” You shouted, your tiny fists clenched in defiance. Your cheeks flushed with anger as you glared at the pitch, completely unbothered by the looks from those around you, “Bad ref! Bad decision!”

Besides you, Monkey blinked in surprise, “Yikes. Didn’t expect that,” She muttered, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and agreement, “Seriously, ref? That was a bad call!” She said louder, crossing her arms dramatically.

You nodded with vigour, your little scowl growing even deeper, “I don’ like her. That was mean to send Auntie Katie off da’ pitch!” Your voice trembled with indignation as you shifted restlessly, clearly unhappy with the referee’s decision.

“The ref is clearly biased, I guess,” Monkey chimed in, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh, like she was about to give up on everything.

Around you, the atmosphere was a mix of energy and frustration. Fans were singing, chanting, and booing in waves that echoed through the stadium. A few choice words–ones you knew you weren’t supposed to say–rang out loud and clear from some disgruntled supporters nearby.

So, naturally, you thought it must be okay for you to say them too.

“You’re shit, ref!” Your little voice rang out over the Arsenal away end, the words surprisingly loud for someone so small. Heads turned, and a few fans nearby exchanged amused glances.

“You tell ‘em, kid!” One fan chuckled, clearly trying to stifle their laughter.

Monkey froze, her jaw dropping as she turned to stare at you in disbelief, “Oh my God,” She whispered, clearly trying not to laugh.

Nobody–nobody– saw that one coming from you.

“Excuse me, young lady!” Amanda’s voice was sharp, cutting through the moment like the cold rain around you, “We do not say words like that. Where on earth did you hear that kind of language?” Her eyebrows shot up as she turned to face you, her expression full of disapproval.

Without missing a beat, you pointed an accusing finger straight at Monkey, “Monks’ said it before!” You declared with the kind of righteous confidence only a child could muster.

Monkey’s mouth fell open, “What? No, I didn’t! Don’t even try to pin the blame on me, you little worm!” She argued, her tone somewhere between exasperated and amused.

Amanda’s stern gaze shifted to your favourite person, “Monkey,” She warned, her voice full of suspicion.

“I didn’t!” Monkey held her hands up defensively, “I swear, I didn’t teach her that– She must’ve heard it from the other fans!” She insisted, her cheeks turning red.

“Nuh uh, it’ all Monks’ fault!” You disagreed with a stubborn pout, crossing your arms tightly across your chest, “It’ true, Nana. I’m only copyin’ her!”

Monkey glared at you, her eyes narrowing with a mix of shock and playful annoyance, “You lyin’ little…” She muttered under her breath, clearly biting back the rest of her words.

“Monkey!” Amanda cut in, her sharp tone cutting her off before she could finish.

Monkey slumped back in her seat with a defeated sigh, “I wasn’t… I weren’t gonna say anythin’ bad,” She mumbled, glancing away as her embarrassment deepened.

“Don’ like it! Arsenal no win!” You pouted, kicking your little legs in frustration as Amanda tried her best to call you.

“They tried their best, sweetheart,” Amanda replied soothingly, tucking your hood tighter around your face to shield you from the rain.

“Tupid’ Chelsea. Don’ like them!” You huffed, crossing your arms as Monkey snorted beside you.

“Hey, I have a great chant in mind,” Monkey said, her eyes lighting up mischeviously.

Amanda shot her a warning look, “Don’t even think about it, madam.”

Before Monkey could reply, the referee’s whistle pierced through the air, signalling the end of the game. Arsenal had lost after six gruelling minutes of added time.

The result was clear, and so was your stormy mood–it darkened even further.

You balled your little fists and glared at the pitch with fiery determination, “I wanna fight them! They’re meanies!” You declared loudly, kicking your feet as if you were preparing for battle.

“No, no, ah-ah. We don’t fight,” Amanda said quickly, catching you before you could squirm out of your seat.

“But why not, Nana?” You whined, your pout deepening, “They made Arsenal lose! I wanna fight ‘em!”

“No fighting, and that’s final,” Amanda repeated, steadying you with a firm hand.

“Fine,” You grumbled, crossing your arms dramatically, “But I wan’ go see Mummy now. She’s sad. I’ cheer her up!”

Amanda hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered the potential chaos you could cause.

“Don’t worry, ‘Manda, I’ll take her down. I’ll make sure she doesn’t start swinging at anyone in blue,” Monkey offered with a grin, already standing up and tugging her jacket on.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Amanda said with relief before focusing her attention back on you, “Right, little miss, listen to me. Your big sister is going to take you down to see Mummy, but you have to promise there’ll be no fighting. Understood?”

You nodded solemnly, sticking your thumb up in a dramatic gesture, “You got it, dude!” You declared before scrambling out of your seat, your little legs ready to bolt, “C’mon, Monks! We gotta go and find Mummy and make her feel happy again!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Monkey replied, grabbing a hold of your hand before you could dash off like you had a terrible habit of doing so.

“You’re so slow!” You huffed, stomping your foot, “Havin’ a baby makes you slower, Monks’!”

Monkey raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, “That’s not true. My baby’s literally the size of a blueberry–it’s still tiny,” She explained, giving your hand a gentle squeeze to keep you from wandering.

“Monks’, when you have your baby, will you still play football?” You asked, your wide eyes looking up at her with curiosity.

“I guess,” Your favourite person agreed, glancing down at you with a small smile.

“But who’s gonna look after the baby when you’re on the pitch? Cos’ Mummy will be playin’ too!” You pressed, clearly concerned.

Monkey paused, thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t know yet, Buddy,” She admitted with a small shrug, “But I guess I’ve still got time to figure it out.”

Your eyes lit up with determination, “I can watch them for you! I’ can do a good job cos’ I’m gonna be the best Auntie!” You declared confidently, puffing out your chest.

Monkey chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Oh, yeah? Somehow, I don’t think a three-year-old is the best babysitter for a newborn.”

“I’m nearly four!” You argued, your voice rising in indignation, “That means I’m gonna be older and even better!”

“Alright,” Monkey bit back a grin, shaking her head, “Maybe we can revisit that when you’re officially four years old then.”

You frowned, unimpressed with her response, “Monks–”

“Look!” Monkey interrupted quickly, pointing towards the pitch with a smirk, “There’s Mum! Why don’t you go bombard her with all your questions?”

Your eyes lit up at the sight of Leah, and you let out an excited squeal, “Mummy! Mummy!”

Leah turned around at the sound of your voice, a tired but warm smile spreading across her face as she spotted you barreling toward her. She crouched down just in time to scoop you into her arms, holding you close, “Hi, Buuba!” She greeted, her voice filled with affection.

You scrunched up your nose almost immediately, “Ew, Mumy! You’re all wet. Gross.”

Leah laughed, brushing a stray piece of wet hair from her face, “Well, that’s what happens when you play a full ninety minutes in this lovely British weather.”

“That’s some fine sarcasm,” Monkey quipped from behind you, clearly amused.

Your attention quickly shifted to the pitch, your little face scrunching up with frustration as you spotted several Chelsea players and the referee, “Bad ref! Bad Chelsea!” You shouted, while giving them a death glare.

“Oh, here we go again,” Monkey snickered, try and failing to hide her amusement.

“Put me down, Mummy. I wanna fight them! Let me at ‘em!” You grumbled, thrasing around in Leah's arms, "I will fight 'em all!"

Leah sighed, tightening her grip on you as you continued to wiggle in her arms, “Ah, ah, not happening, Bubba. We don’t fight.”

“But they made Arsenal lose!” You protested, kicking your feet in the air, “I’ teach ‘em a lesson! Tupid’ Ref! ‘Tupid Blues!”

“Because fighting isn’t how we solve things,” Leah explained patiently, kissing your forehead, “And I don’t think anyone will take too kindly to a toddler running riot around the pitch, would they?”

“I’ no run riot, Mummy. I just… I kick ‘em!” You insisted, wanting down as soon as possible.

Monkey snorted, shaking her head in amusement, “Well I don’t think that would go down well either.”

Leah nodded, gently rubbing your back to calm you down, “Exactly. Right now, I just need my Bubba to give me a big hug. Can you do that for me?”

You grumbled under your breath but relented, wrapping your arms tightly around Leah’s neck, “Fine, but if they do it ‘gain, I’ gonna fight ‘em, Mummy!”

Leah smiled, her voice soft and reassuring, “I’m sure you’ll always have my back, Bubba. But for now, how about we just focus on cheering each other up, yeah?”

“Okay, Mummy,” You said with a small smile, nestling into her shoulder as your earlier frustration began to fade away. But then your head shot up, and your eyes sparkled with excitement, “Mummy! Monks’ said when I’m four, I can look after her baby!”

Leah froze, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Monkey, who immediately stiffened, a guilty look spreading across her face.

“She what?” Leah asked slowly, her tone calm but dangerously sharp, as Monkey took a cautious step back.

“I–uh–gotta go!” Monkey stammered, spinning on her heel and making a break for it, leaving Leah standing there, stunned and you giggling mischievously in her arms.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[longing-for-the-picturesque]

As a literature student LET ME ELABORATE: this works so well because the book itself fits perfectly within multiple structures of drama-theory and i KNOW Donna knew that and that's why they are in the book

Many people have probably said this before but i will still give my opinion :)

Number one: the murder occurs RIGHT in the middle, which fits perfectly within the five act structure of Gustav Freytag what is the 5 act structure you might ask? in greek tragedy (which typically has 5 acts) (as well as more modern works) each act can be associated with one point on a triangle, with the 3rd act being the highest point.

first you have the Exposition, which could be defined as the point until Richard joins the greek class (if you ask me) (but you could define it up until a later point i suppose?)

the second act is when the tension builds up (thrilling momentum), which fits perfectly with the bacchanal and then the murder plans. maybe you could say the first act is until the bacchanal? well im not sure hahah

the third act is the Climax, OBVIOUSLY the murder and that's kind of where the peak is reached and everything after that is just,,, "calming" down from that point on (but it's not really calm rip)

the fourth act is "retardant momentum" which is where the tension kind of goes away and you have hope still, that despite knowing the book will end badlyy, it will still work out for the characters somehow, even though the greek class is DOOMED to go down

the fifth act (i am pinpointing the starting point as henry's Su1cide) is the "Catastrophy". Everything goes to shit and at the end everybody is unhappy, and while the main character doesn't die, i will say his soul does to some degree and it even ends with Francis' death to really drive home the point that a "good" character (Protagonist we are supposed to like) dies at the end and we have a true tragedy

NUMBER 2: Now this is just UGH i love it so much There are two different kids of dramas, plot wise: analytical drama and synthetic drama and TSH just shows us both types PERFECTLY

analytical Drama is the type of drama (like for example Oedipus) where you already know the ending in the beginning, but the plot of the drama is "how do we get to this horrible point" and that is just EXACTLY the first part of TSH

synthetic Drama is the second part of TSH, you start at a point and the plot is just,,, "how does the story continue from here" to put it simply

TL;DR I agree with OP SOOOOO much because Donna Tartt wrote TSH NOT with the medium of television in mind, she wrote it KNOWING drama theory relating to the building of tension and when to put which plot point and she incorporated it perfectly in her story, so in reality Theater is not only the best, but truly the ONLY way to authentically act out TSH

Am I the only one who thinks The Secret History would be way more interesting as a stage play than a movie? It could be put on in the same style as a Greek tragedy, taking inspiration from ancient performances. Or there could be constant rotating sets and backgrounds, but the mountains and the cliffs always being present onstage, reminding us that what no matter what Richard is telling us, and no matter how much Richard and the Greek class try to rationalize it, they will always be haunted by what they have done. THINK ABOUT HOW THE BACCHANAL COULD BE SHOWN

[goldenroutledge]

we were liars

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: inspired by taylor swift’s cruel summer.

warning(s): angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, baku ‘24 crash, mutual pining, two stubborn idiots in love basically.

a/n: this has been a long time coming! longest thing i’ve written in years and i loved every minute of it! enjoy <3

They say there’s no place like home. Whether that’s a person or a feeling, it’s hard to tell. Every summer allows you to figure that out, but at what point do you lose hope in trying? At what point do you resign to the feeling of wanting someone so badly, knowing they’re impossible to have? At what point do you stop torturing yourself into facing that fact?

Seeing as it was impossible to decline Carlos’ invitation to join his summer vacation, finding answers would be a hopeless pursuit. Not that you were paying close attention or anything, but plans were always tentative around this time of year. Knowing that whenever he calls, you’ll answer. It’s always around mid-late July, many nights during the race weekends that have you awake in the middle of the night, on the receiving end of his late night thoughts. It’s by that point in the season that Carlos begins to feel restless, carrying more doubts in his ability than he’d care to admit.

But he’s only human. He needs a break. He needs to retreat back to the solace that calms the soul, an unfamiliar peace that he doesn’t stop craving until he sees you again. For most months out of the year, Carlos settles on the sight of you running through his imagination until he musters the courage to give you a call. He settles once again when he wishes you sweet dreams to mask the three words and eight letters that rest on the tip of his tongue. Just friends or not, Carlos settles for having you in his life any way he can. You’ve already attended the many races he’s asked you to come to, sometimes with less than a day’s notice. Summer break is the reunion you both can count on, always overdue no matter how much time you’d spent apart.

The journey to the house has your mind buzzing with possibilities, or theories, as to how your dynamic with Carlos will be. Will you pick up like you never left off? Will you keep pretending that nothing’s changed between you two? For now, you’d have to put that on hold. Given that Lando had been accepted as an honorary member of the Sainz family, it was no surprise to see him, tan as ever, answering the door at Carlos' vacation home. “Y/n! Long time no see!” He greets you with a bright smile and a hug, offering to help you with some of your bags.

“No kidding, it’s nice to see you too!” You smile warmly, eyes instinctively drifting past him in search of his best friend and former teammate. “How’s your break so far?”

“Much needed.” He sighs, gathering your bags in an attempt to take them all in one trip. Lando starts rambling about his triumphs and defeats so far this season at McLaren, feeling comfortable enough to divulge his true thoughts in your company, sans the media training.

Any remarks you had in response suddenly leave you, heart melting under the gaze of those gorgeous brown eyes you know so well. Carlos’ lips turn up into a smile at the sight of you, eagerly opening his arms to meet you in a crushing embrace. “Look who made it to Mallorca!”

Your smile spreads so wide that your cheeks begin to hurt, not that you care. “I wouldn’t miss it. You know I’m not one to pass on a free vacation.”

“Ah, come on.” He grumbles at your teasing words. “Tell me you didn’t miss me, too.” You both relax in each other’s arms, never pulling too far away. To see him like this, up close and personal, feels like a dream. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while and you admire how handsome the length looks on him.

“Maybe a little bit. But it’s not like we haven’t been on the phone nonstop. We always keep in touch.”

“That’s true, but those phone calls don’t beat the real thing. They’re not even close.” Carlos runs a finger underneath your chin, so quickly that if he didn’t have your full attention, you would’ve missed it. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Who would’ve thought you would be so happy to see little old me when you’re rubbing elbows with the rich and famous every weekend. You have it all.”

He smiles, but shakes his head in playful disagreement. “Not everything.”

“Ahem.” Lando clears his throat, still visibly struggling with your luggage at the front door. “Hate to burst your little love bubble but would anyone care to help me carry this?”

His interruption startles you and Carlos, causing you both to retract from the other’s hold and stand at a very platonic and appropriate distance away from each other. Not that you were just caught in anything unusual, but it sure felt like your parents just saw your prom date kissing you goodnight on the front porch.

“Jesus Y/n, is your suitcase full of bricks or something?”

“Just bikinis.” You laugh, not missing the way Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at you before going to help poor Lando carry your bags upstairs. “Gotta get my money’s worth out of them. Not all of us get paid millions to drive in circles, you know.”

Lando scoffs. “We’re only here for a week. How many of them could you possibly need?”

“She needs options, cabrón.”

“See, Carlos gets it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sure. Defend her.” Lando snides at the Spaniard. “I’ll remember that.”

—

The summer holiday not only gave you an opportunity to restore your serotonin levels and forget that the outside world existed, but it was also a chance to reconnect with the people you hold dear. (Sometimes) Lando, Carlos, and of course his sister Ana. Being close with Carlos’ family was a packaged deal with anyone he was also close to himself. The four of you together made for unforgettable memories. The day had been spent on the water, with Carlos showing off his ability to pilot something other than a Formula 1 car.

“Enough of the boring conversation please!” Ana interjects Lando & Carlos’ chatter about their latest golf game, wanting to revert the conversation back to something interesting at dinner. “I have a burning question I need to ask Y/n. And I know that somebody here would love to know the answer. So, who are you dating?”

Her question changes the mood suddenly, a mix of interest and curiosity filling the atmosphere. It takes you by surprise even though you don’t have to pause to think about it because the answer is simple. It’s not complicated, even if your feelings for the man sitting across from you are anything but.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

This draws a dramatic gasp from your friend beside you, one that conceals a subconscious sigh of relief from Carlos.

“What do you mean? How is that even possible?”

You chuckle at Ana’s amazement, feeling unexpectedly shy with your love life being the topic of conversation. “It just is. I’m not really interested in dating anybody right now.” As if Carlos wasn’t listening closely before, he sure is now. The inquisitive looks you receive from each of your friends prompts you to explain yourself further. “I mean what’s the point, you know? If I don’t see a future with someone, why would I put myself through that? Knowing it’s gonna end in disappointment.”

“I’m just saying, you’re way too hot to be single. Isn’t that right, Carlos?” Ana defends, smirking at the harmless embarrassment she’s pushing on her brother. He shoots her a sharp look and draws a pained gasp from her when he (harmlessly) kicks her shin under the table. Carlos clears his throat to hide it, but their interaction is evident, and ever true to their sibling dynamic.

“She’s right. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

The tips of your ears burn at his compliment, but you know he’s only saving himself. He’s the gentleman everyone knows him to be and adores him for by giving you a line that’s been written into romantic comedies since they came to be. “Thanks, Carlos.”

His heart clenches at your words, unable to tell if you really believe it or not. He knows that his statement was vague and it toes the line of friendship more than he would like, but he’s also at a loss. How could he even begin to describe the ways he loves you, or notices everything about you, big and small? How he lied when he said anyone would be lucky to have you, knowing that most people wouldn’t even come close to deserving the love you have to offer. He knows that he’s not supposed to feel this way, let alone tell you and destroy the friendship you have. Locking eyes with you across the table, he wishes you could read his mind. Instead, he settles for a polite smile.

—

Once the boat is docked, it doesn’t feel right to abandon the sunset and head back to the house. The air on the beach is crisp, smelling of the clear waters and reflecting the pink and golden hues of the setting sun. Lando and Carlos are the last to leave the boat, carrying a beer cooler to where you and Ana sit down in the sand.

Carlos hands you a drink before taking a comfortable seat next to you. The silence is tranquil as you rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the gifts that Mother Nature has to offer. A warm feeling envelopes Carlos as he peers down at you, one that he can’t pass off as just the alcohol starting to move through his system. He wants to commit this moment to memory. If he’s settling for this, then he isn’t settling at all.

“We should play Truth or Dare.” Lando suggests, growing bored of the silence, though it was nice while it lasted. His expression turns puzzled at the looks he receives from the rest of you. “What? It’s fun.”

“If you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, you would’ve made one hell of a frat boy.” You tease, Ana and Carlos agreeing with you.

Lando sighs. “I know. What a waste right?”

“But then we would’ve never become teammates.”

“You’re right.” Lando chuckles, toasting his drink with Carlos’ at the realization.

“I’ll go first.” Ana speaks up, interrupting the boys before they could get too deep into their side chatter. Judging by the closeness she’s seen from you and her brother, what’s the harm in trying to help things along? “Carlos, truth or dare?”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink before throwing his head back dramatically. By his sister’s not so subtle hints throughout the night, and really every time you are in each other’s presence, he can feel where this is going. Yet a part of him isn’t mad at it.

“Truth.”

“Boooor-ing.” Lando sneers and you can’t help but giggle. Ana gives him a look as if to say, not so fast.

“Are you in love?”

Lando regrets ever saying anything in protest, as he nearly chokes on his beer once Ana finishes her sentence. Given what he knows, it’s impossible for him to not die of laughter at the scenario. Watching Carlos fight for his life on this question tops any interview moment they’ve had inside a Formula 1 paddock. Carlos pauses, which luckily for him can be passed off as pure concern for his best friend that’s currently gasping for air.

Your chest feels tight at the question, not expecting Ana to go there. You know Carlos’ life being on the road as a very rich and attractive athlete probably isn’t one of abstinence, but you can’t deny that it doesn’t crush you to imagine someone else having the key to his heart. You take a few gulps from your drink and it makes you worry that if this keeps up all night, there won’t be any alcohol left for you to drown your feelings in. They’ll just stay trapped inside of you with nowhere to go.

“Yes. I’m in love… with life.” Carlos professes, looking around with gratitude, raising his arms up as if to give thanks to the beautiful scenery around you.

Ana scoffs. “That’s not my question! I asked are you in love. As in, with someone. Perhaps even someone next to you.” She speaks the last part quickly, feigning innocence as she looks between you.

“Please, Carlos and I are just friends.” You brush off her words, knowing how she can be sometimes when she believes in something. Relentless; just like Carlos is. A trait you can’t help but admire in them both. Lando laughs in disbelief, making kissing sounds to contradict you. Carlos’ smile falters, eyebrows scrunching together ever so slightly. It’s impossible to tell if he’s hurt at your dismissal of only seeing him as a friend, or just annoyed at the antics that are a nuisance to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

“We talk all the time, Anita. I think you already know the answer.”

Ana shrugs. “It’s the rules, Carlos. You picked truth, so you have to answer.”

“Yeah! Spill the beans, Carlos.” Lando encourages. “And don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

“Easy, cabrón.” He warns, glancing between his best friend and his impatient sister as they wait for him to answer. Finally, his gaze lands on you, quietly sitting beside him through all of their quips. He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know you don’t hold him in a higher regard than friendship entails. Yet the weight pulling at his heartstrings isn’t one he feels the need to bear anymore. You may never know the full truth, but that’s just another thing Carlos feels the need to let go of. “The answer is yes. I am in love.”

While the summer weather is nothing but serene, the storm inside of you is the complete opposite. You feel like throwing up. Leave it to Lando to suggest a fun, light-hearted game to stir things up. You paste on a smile, trying with everything you have to hold Carlos’ gaze and make your ‘just friends’ statement feel like reality. The emotion glossing over your eyes betrays you. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

He can’t shake the unsettling feeling that’s consuming him. Whether it’s the guilt of omitting a very important detail to that answer or the fact that you don’t seem disturbed at the thought of him with someone else. Ana and Lando share an incredulous look, unable to understand how two people can be so oblivious to one another while also being unable to look away from them. “So that’s it?” Lando mumbles, but his quiet tone isn’t much competition for the silence that’s fallen over the group.

Carlos pretends that he can’t feel the disappointment in the air, turning his attention to his friend and choosing to carry on with the game. “Lando, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Lando says cooly like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” Carlos ponders, thinking carefully as to how he’s gonna get his payback. The awkward tension between you could’ve been avoided entirely had Lando not mentioned this stupid game at all. “I dare you to… jump into the water with all your clothes on.”

“So the opposite of skinny dipping? But we have no towels!”

“Exactly.” Carlos raises his eyebrows pointedly. He can’t think of a better punishment than to make Lando sit here shivering until he can find comfort under a scalding hot shower. “Unless you are too scared…”

“Never too scared.” Lando argues, already making a mold in the sand for his drink to sit while he’s gone. “I’ll do it, on one condition. Y/n comes with me.”

“No.” Carlos answers for you, almost immediately. “That’s not in the rules, remember?”

���Come on, live a little.” Lando looks between the two of you, hoping he can make a convincing argument. If he doesn’t liven up the mood now, he’ll consider this game a wash. “How about this, if you join me, you don’t have to answer any questions or do any dares. You’ll have immunity.”

You raise your eyebrows at his idea, intrigued. You’d do almost anything to distract yourself from what just happened with Carlos. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t.”

“You can.” Carlos objects, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “And you will. Come on Y/n, you could get sick. It’s getting chilly out.”

Lando scoffs at his hypocrisy. “Oh, so now you’re concerned? Because who cares if I get sick, right?”

You look between the two men, and then to Ana, who shrugs undecidedly as if to say it’s up to you. Carlos’ eyes are pleading, hoping to get through to you before you do something you might regret. Then again, these are the same eyes that looked into yours minutes ago and told you he’s in love with someone else. You don’t need to listen to his concerns, you don’t owe that to him. Drinking what’s left in your bottle, you accept Lando’s hand to help you up before making a run for it towards the water.

The two of you disappear under what’s now the nighttime sky, the moonlight shining bright enough to lead the way. It isn’t until you’re just about there, that one wrong step onto a bottle hiding in the sand halts your movements, causing a sharp cry to escape your throat as a sharper cut of glass slices into your foot. Lando barely makes it to the water when he realizes you’re no longer beside him, instantly turning around to see that you’re bleeding. “Oh fuck, are you alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder, trying to examine the injury but comfort you the best way he can.

A string of curses fall from your lips, language more characteristic of a sailor than your normal self. “What does it look like? Holy shit, it hurts!”

“Carlos!” Lando calls out, unable to peel his eyes away from your foot.

Both Carlos and Ana were already watching the scene unfold, and Carlos wasted no time in rushing to your side within seconds, Ana following closely behind from down the beach. “Y/n? What happened?”

“I stepped on this– fuck– that bottle.” You nod over to the bottle, a couple feet away from you. Carlos’ heartbeat quickens at the sight of you, clearly distressed and in pain, but knows he can’t afford a freezing moment of panic. He removes the thin linen shirt he’s wearing to wrap around your foot and compress it, in hopes the bleeding will stop.

Lando takes a step back when you remove your hands from where they clutched your injury, trying to catch his breath as he feels lightheaded at the sight, glass piercing your skin deeply. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Carlos and Ana pay him no mind, as Ana rests a hand on your knee soothingly while Carlos goes to wrap up your foot with his shirt. But you are just as quick to stop him. “It hurts, Carlos.”

“I know, I know, but we have to stop the bleeding. This cut is deep.”

“Removing the glass will only make it worse.” Ana falters, knowingly it’s not what you want to hear. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You’re probably right, I think I need stitches.”

“We will get you there.” Carlos assures. “Just breathe with me, can you do that?”

You nod, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as your eyelids flutter shut. Clearly Lando has to do the same, feeling dizzy at the sight. He wanders over to where the bottle lay broken in the sand, a wave of guilt washing over him when he realizes the label reads Estrella Galicia. Carlos’ favorite beer, the same one they happened to have an abundance of in the cooler today. A bottle they must’ve dropped by accident when making their way up the beach.

Ana tells you that she’s going up to the house to find Carlos’ keys to drive you all to the emergency room. Lando finishes picking up the pieces of the broken bottle, heading inside to dispose of them. It’s just you and Carlos now. Not that you bothered to care who you were alone with at this moment, but you feel safe.

You notice your heavy breathing has slowed down in tune with his as he gently secures the fabric around your foot. “You will be okay Y/n, I promise.” Considering how out of it you are, you nearly miss the feeling of his lips kissing your forehead chastely. Before you can wonder how the hell you would be walking up the beach, Carlos is effortlessly lifting you off the ground and carrying you in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

—

“Don’t do that.” Ana nudges her brother’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like you do. She’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right.” Lando chimes in. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s your fault.” Carlos snaps back at him.

“What did I do?”

“I told you not to take her with you. It wasn’t a good idea and clearly I was right.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “She wanted to. And if you wanna talk about fault, it was an Estrella Galicia she stepped on. That bottle fell out of our cooler.”

Carlos felt that tightening feeling in his chest again, a mix of guilt and shame brewing into something far more intoxicating than what he’s had to drink tonight. “I would never be so careless.”

“None of us would be. It was an accident, that’s the point. It’s not like she blames any of us for what happened.”

“She might.”

“Carlos, stop it.” Ana interjects, watching him with concern as he leans forward, hands clasped together while his mind is in deep thought. “She would probably slap both of you if she heard what you’re saying right now.” Ana proceeds to retrieve some money from the bag she hurriedly grabbed before leaving for the hospital, asking Carlos to get some chips from the vending machine. There wasn’t much she could do about the bickering between him and Lando except try to diffuse it by separating them. She knows how stubborn her brother can be and knows that his attitude won’t go anywhere until he sees you.

Carlos certainly doesn’t feel like himself, sluggishly moving down the hall, unable to break his train of thought. The fact that you got hurt on his watch, still unaware of how he feels about you has his heartstrings tangled in knots. The most unbelievable part being that despite the intensity of his Formula 1 career, he’s never felt as on edge as he does right now. It’s both exciting and scary that you’ve seemed to wedge yourself a little closer to his heart than the sport that’s defined his life.

When he sees you with Ana or Lando, he envies them. He envies the authenticity that defines your friendships with them, the feeling of being able to say what’s on your mind without a care, knowing they’ll never lose you. He wonders what that’s like, he craves to have that with you. He struggles to remember when his feelings began to get in the way of that. Now he has no choice but to face it, feeling further away from you than he ever has. The longer this goes on, that distance will only worsen until you don’t know each other at all. A part of him wants to do everything in his power to stop that; another part tells him that he’s powerless when it comes to you.

His head hangs low, finding it easy to get lost in the glow of the vending machine. Behind him in line, the sound of a kid deliberately tapping his foot snaps him out of his trance, prompting him to hurry up with the chips. Heading back towards the waiting room, he notices Ana and Lando speaking to a doctor. By the looks of it, they’re hanging on her every word, urging him to pick up his pace so he doesn’t miss any updates on you.

—

The hospital room is cold and uninviting. Quite the opposite of an ideal place to spend your summer vacation. You lay there alone for what feels like hours, wishing nothing more than to have Carlos at your bedside. You know he’s here, and so are your friends, but it’s not the same. The heart monitor beeps routinely every couple seconds, and your blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, making it impossible to doze off even if you wanted to. The pain in your foot is better, though not gone completely, after having the glass removed by a doctor and your wound properly stitched up. Given how late it was, they’d keep you until the morning, needing to monitor the wound for a possible infection.

When you ask for your friends in the waiting room, your nurse looks like she’s seen a ghost at the mention of Carlos Sainz. Once you had reassured her that you had no head injury whatsoever, she reluctantly left to go find your description of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. You’ll see him.’

And so taking a deep breath, Carlos is standing in front of your room, tapping his knuckles gently to the wooden door. “Knock, knock.”

You smile instinctively at the sound of his voice, eager to see someone familiar in what has been a lonely couple of hours. “Come in.”

He opens the door immediately before laying eyes on you sitting up in the hospital bed, hurt and exhausted from the day’s events. He swallows down the guilt that creeps up his throat, hoping that it doesn’t show. He doesn’t deserve to throw a pity party right now when you're the one that’s in pain. His words don’t get that memo as he laments. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Maybe if I went too, it would’ve been me instead.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, patting the foot of your bed so he will sit down. “I won’t let you think about the what if’s, Carlos, you need your feet to drive remember? Though knowing your resilience, you’d probably come back and win, glass in your foot be damned. They don’t call you the Smooth Operator for nothing.”

His heart warms at how you know just what to say to lift his spirits. “I could win only if you’re there to cheer me on.”

“Just say the word and I will be. I wouldn’t fly around the world on a moment’s notice for just anyone, you know.”

“I don’t want ‘just anyone’. Just you.” Your smile beams, and all of a sudden you feel the need to be close to him, holding a hand out to him that he instantly takes in his own. “Can I say something? And can you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Tonight can’t get much worse, can it?”

He faintly smiles at your quip, but it also worries him that your relationship may always be limited to just that, laughter and clever jokes. He needs you to know that he’s serious. And it wouldn’t be so bad to hear that in return from you either, just this once. “I love you.”

You freeze, probably looking like a deer in headlights. There must be some truth to the theory that people tend to be more honest at night. The exhaustion from the day wears on the brain while the world falls asleep, leaving the two of you to face the lingering vulnerability intertwining itself deeper into your friendship. You’d been denying it for as long as you can remember. A part of you wonders if he’s just tired of fighting it, if he’s just giving in to what everyone expects to happen between you. Even though Carlos is a terrible liar, you can’t shake the doubt that tells you his admission isn’t what it seems.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to say that just because you feel bad. I understand.”

“It’s not about that, Y/n. I’m telling you how I feel– no, how I’ve felt– for a long time now, and I refuse to hide it from you anymore.”

“And how can you say that when a few hours ago you said you were in love with somebody else? Does that ring a bell to you?”

The realization hits Carlos, now he can understand why you’re so skeptical. “I never said I was in love with somebody else, it’s you! I was talking about you. When I said that I am in love, I meant to say that I was in love with you.” He sighs, finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

The feeling that comes over you is paralyzing, unable to breathe a word in his direction. Those damn eyes that he’s giving you only complicate things. As badly as you want to express your love for him in return, you can’t. Not when the past several months, if not years, of your life have revolved around falling in love with Carlos and not being able to stop. Not being able to save yourself from the inevitable rejection that would break your foolish heart in two. Each day, the feeling buries itself deeper but comes alive in bursts. If your body didn’t remind you of it with a quickened heartbeat and a fuzzy feeling when he’s near, you wouldn’t know the difference between your ‘best friend’ Carlos and the confused one sitting at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Y/n, please. Say something. Tell me to get out or tell me you love me too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I know there’s something behind your eyes. There’s something you’re hiding from me, I can feel it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Y/n, you forget that I know you.” He states obviously. “We’ve been best friends for years now, so the question is how could I not?”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Having you is more than enough. But you have to understand that I can’t go on like this. I want to love you and never hide it. For as long as you let me.” His eyes bare into yours, nearly feeling claustrophobic as he takes both of your hands in his. “Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out as a mumble instead of the vibrato you wished to have right about now. Tears gloss over your eyes, but you don’t welcome them. The downturn of his frown and the emptiness that’s seeping into his expression claws at your chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” He opens his mouth to say something, be it out of apology or anger, you’ll never know.

Three resounding knocks to your hospital room door cut through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

It’s Lando and Ana, the soft smiles on their faces falling as they look between you and Carlos, sensing that something isn’t right. “Are we interrupting? We thought we’d check on you before they kick us out for the night.”

“Not at all.” You put on a smile for them in reassurance, yet fooling no one. The suspense in the air is palpable enough to leave all of you feeling awkward to say the least. It’s enough to make Carlos split the distance between his best friend and sister, leaving the room without a word.

Carlos walks as fast as his feet will take him, eventually landing on the familiar chair in the waiting room he sat in when he arrived. For the first time tonight, his mind isn’t racing and anxiety isn’t coursing through his veins. He is defeated, worse than he’s ever been before. Be it a race-ending issue with the car or losing out on his Ferrari seat, those are losses that he can at least come back from. This one’s a dead end.

“Want some? You look like you could use a snack.”

His attention swivels to a boy in the seat nearby, who he now recognizes from the vending machine earlier, snacking away on his bag of Ruffles. Carlos shakes his head, but still smiles softly at the consideration. “No thank you, not hungry.”

“Do you like chips?”

“I prefer cookies.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And why’s that?”

“I dunno, you’re Carlos Sainz. Chili. I thought you’d go for anything salty or spicy. I guess you really do learn something new everyday.”

Carlos sighs, remembering his current troubles. His eyes flicker over to the hallway containing your room, expecting to see a familiar face at some point. “Tell me about it.”

The boy, whose backpack is embroidered with the name ‘Samuel’, gives Carlos a puzzled look. “What did you learn today?”

The question leaves him clueless as to how he can answer, without trauma dumping onto Samuel who is none the wiser to the conundrum he’s in. He clears his throat before answering, eyeing the vending machine as an analogy comes to his mind. “I love chocolate chip cookies, but they don’t love me back. My job doesn’t allow me to have them because they are too sweet for me. I try to stay away from the cookies, but I can’t. I wish I could be selfish and have them all to myself, but it’s just impossible. I can’t win.”

“Maybe try a different kind? Something healthier for you then.”

“Good idea, but that would never work. I’ll always love the chocolate chip cookie. Nothing else compares to her.”

“Are you talking about a girl?”

“No, no.” Carlos tries to cover, heat rising to his cheeks. “Still talking about the cookies.”

“You could always try baking your own.” He suggests. “When my mamá bakes cookies, they’re better than anything else because she makes them with love.”

Carlos nods along, and thanks Samuel for his words of advice. He’s off in his own world right now, desperate enough for guidance that he’s willing to imagine the ridiculous analogy between chocolate chip cookies and his relationship with you.

Minutes turn into hours, and Carlos finds himself in your room once again, sitting in a chair near your bedside. He reassured Ana and Lando earlier to go home as he insisted on staying with you overnight. Visiting hours were far from over, but a small bribe for your nurse was all it took for an exception to be made for Carlos Sainz.

The sun is up before you know it, but that’s not what shocks you. It’s the man slumped over in the chair overcome with fatigue. You wish it was all a dream. That stupid game of truth or dare, stepping on the glass bottle, pushing Carlos away when in hindsight, you should’ve surrendered too. You should’ve given in the same way he did, it surely would’ve made for a less awkward ride home. It’s not his words from last night that cloud the space in your mind, it’s your own. Seeing him now, he looks tranquil. Like the weight of the world can’t touch him when he’s already said his peace. You’ll continue longing to feel the same, knowing that your chance might’ve just come and gone.

—

AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024

“Care to tell me why you’re really here?”

A puzzled raise of your eyebrows tells Lando everything he needs to know before you can even say it. “I’m sorry, I can’t support McLaren now? One of my best friends happens to drive for them.”

“Another happens to drive for their rival, too.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing personal. Orange looks better on me.”

“Carlos would beg to differ.”

“Will you stop that? It isn’t about him.”

“Fine. But it’s not not about him, admit that.” He gives you a knowing look, one that’s skeptical of how much you’ve been avoiding Carlos lately, ever since the vacation you all took together. What was once a lively group chat between you three now consists of the occasional meme or reaction photo. “Come on, something happened between you two. Admit it.”

You sigh, eyes tearing away from him as you feel pressure under his interrogation. “Nothing happened. It’s probably more about what didn’t happen.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Like your bestie hasn’t already filled you in.”

Lando shrugs, never giving away too much. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“He just misspoke. He told me he loved me after I injured my foot over the summer. I brushed him off, and we’re pretending like it never happened.” Lando’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t realize his jaw is hanging open until you press two fingers under his chin. “And that includes you. Deal? Not a word about this to anyone.”

“Damn, that’s even worse than I thought! You’re avoiding him because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t love me, doofus. He felt guilty because I stepped on a bottle that one of you probably dropped.” Three sharp pokes to the Brit’s chest emphasize your point, the narrative you’ve spent months now convincing yourself is true. “It’s just been a little tense, we haven’t really been the same since then. He thinks I’m being cold about the whole thing.”

“Are you?”

“No! I just know him better than he knows himself and he refuses to admit it. He’s stubborn, as you know, and he won’t let me forget it. He’s probably messing with my head until I cave in.”

“Cave in to what? Admitting you love him too?”

You gulp, brain scattering while you feel for some reason, like you’re being found out. “Where would you get that idea?”

“You haven’t denied it. Isn’t that all he wants anyway? I’m sure if you told him you didn’t feel the same way, this would all be over. Which won’t happen because you do, in fact, love Carlos Sainz.”

You resist the urge to give Lando a good whack to any tender part of his body, by the way a McLaren team member accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation in passing, obviously trying to look away before you notice. “Don’t use his full name.” You warn in a hushed whisper. “Word travels fast around here, you know.”

“Please don’t injure me before the race. I’m just saying, would it hurt to speak to him for more than five minutes at a time?”

“He’ll get over it. Hell, he might already be over it. I just think a little more space wouldn’t hurt either of us right now.”

“Well, you know what they say about space.” Lando gives you a knowing look, before dramatically breaking out into his best Nick Jonas impersonation. “Space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get close.”

“Very nice, Lando.”

“Just don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

“It’s better for our friendship this way, okay? Imagine had I said it back, what kind of damage that would do to all of us when it goes to shit. It would never work between us, and I refuse to set us up for failure. I’d rather keep things the same. And he would too, he just doesn’t know it yet. This year hasn’t been the easiest for him, you know? He’s just trying to cling on to what’s familiar. He might think that he loves me, but it’s a phase. In a year from now, he’ll be in a new team, a new era of his life and career, and we won’t even remember this.”

“Really? Because I think, if he had it his way, he’d be with you forever.”

“And I feel terrible about pushing him away, but it’s for the best, okay? You’ll see.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Lando nods slowly but unconvincingly, taking some steps backwards and away from you, leaving to do the pre-race preparations he should probably be focused on instead.

—

“For the best?!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes wide and hinting a mix of disappointment, hurt, and frustration at the turn your friendship has taken.

“I know, I had the same look. It doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Each excuse I hear from her is more ridiculous than the last. I miss when I could just talk to her, you know? Without thinking about how she’s gonna push me away this time.”

“You should just tell her to stop inventing.” Lando giggles, biting his lip to keep from breaking out into full hysterical laughter in the middle of the driver’s parade.

Carlos shoots a warning glare to his friend. “It’s one thing if she didn’t feel anything for me, but she’s been avoiding me as if we haven’t been best friends for years now. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe she’s scared to lose you, have you ever thought of that? What would happen in case it doesn’t work out? I think she’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, though. She knows me. I thought I knew her, too.”

“You do. I, for one, think you’re perfect for each other.” Lando tries to offer some consolation, but he knows that Carlos can’t and won’t settle for the silver lining in all of this.

“I used to think so too. But hey, she might be onto something. Maybe it is for the best.”

—

The race doesn’t disappoint, keeping in line with the chaotic patterns the 2024 season has had to offer. Nearing the end of the race, the pit wall, mechanics, and spectators alike can breathe a sigh of relief that the position of their driver won’t be threatened. Oscar leads by 10 seconds, making it a great weekend to be a guest of McLaren for the weekend. The garage bustles with excitement as the cars begin the last lap.

It was looking like a fight to the checkered flag between Checo and Carlos, closely rounding Turn 2 just behind Charles, racing wheel to wheel down the straight before the two cars clash, the Red Bull of Checo sending the Ferrari of Carlos into the concrete barrier at 300 kilometers per hour.

A wave of adrenaline strikes you instantly, audible gasps sounding through the garage at the brutal and unexpected impact. The same sight of the crash had to be on every monitor throughout the entire paddock, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat. Carlos being a beloved member in the McLaren family certainly intensified things, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screen. A flash of heat burns through you as you see Checo seemingly confront Carlos and walk off, but your worries don’t dissipate until you see the man in red get out of his car, slowly but steadily.

—

It’s almost night by the time you arrive back at your hotel, Lando having stayed back in the paddock for team photos and celebrations of Oscar’s win. It’s a short walk back to the nearby hotel, and you could use the fresh air to help clear your mind anyway. Mindlessly, you open your messages with Carlos. Typing, then erasing, then typing again.

‘Glad you’re okay.’ No, too short.

‘Are you okay? Sorry about your race.’ No, too impersonal.

‘I love you too. I should’ve said it sooner.’ No, too risky. Too permanent. You’re not ready for what comes next. Who knows if he even wants to talk to you, especially about this. Don’t be selfish.

Your earlier conversation with Lando creeps up on you, giving you more to worry about than you had previously considered. Could it be guilt or pure heartache, you’re not sure. All that is certain is you can’t carry on with your relationship like this either. It only took you a few months and a crash to fuel you with the same passion he felt for you over the summer, when he confessed. Facing the truth is scary, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you let him go. You can’t live with knowing that he might go so far that he never comes back.

The elevator door is open, your thoughts so entrancing that you don’t bother to look up. Until that signature red polo catches your eye, and they trail upwards to meet the brown ones you remember so well, the same ones you’ve been waiting to see again.

“Hi.” He breathes, almost in disbelief. From the mental and physical wear of today, Carlos can’t be more relieved to see your face, no matter what has gone on between you. Pure surprise sets in when you, after taking a few pauses to get a good look at him, engulf him into your arms with a passion. He winces slightly at the soreness that’s sinking into his muscles, but ultimately relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, trying to untangle yourself from his hold, to which he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“It’s not just about that, Carlos. I haven’t been a good friend to you lately and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“No.”

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“I pushed you away when I told you how I feel. But you need to know that I’m not sorry I said it. I’m not taking it back.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “This again? Why won’t I take it back? Because it’s the truth! I love you! I wish you could see it. I wish you could feel how badly I’ve been wanting to say it and hear it back from you. I’m man enough to understand if you don’t feel the same way, but you won’t even give me a conversation. You refuse to talk to me and I don’t know whether to take that as rejection or an admission. Because if you really didn’t believe a thing I said that night, we wouldn’t be here. Things would’ve stayed the same.” You stay silent, trying to process each of his words and their meanings, a mistake you’ve made one too many times. “Just talk to me, please.” His voice cracks slightly in his last word, and his plea brings tears to your eyes. “Not what you think I need to hear. Tell me what you’ve been holding inside.”

This is exactly what scares you about Carlos. His ability to understand your innermost thoughts without a word. His skepticism is more than enough to rattle you. Having him as a best friend is one thing, but leaving your heart to be broken in his hands is another. “I just don’t want things to change, Carlos. At the end of the day, we still have our own lives, our own goals and ambitions. It doesn’t matter how I feel when there’s plenty standing in the way of it.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent every waking moment wondering how all of those things could be ours, together. I fell in love with you and you’re punishing me for it, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Does it scare you? Is that why you want to sabotage our relationship before it has a chance? You need to understand that I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty you got hurt. I told you because I refuse to look you in the eyes and lie anymore than I already have.”

“I know.” You sigh, a tear slipping away from you. “I know that.”

“Then why are you only admitting this to me now? We’ve been wasting time dancing around this long enough.”

“I know how you feel because I feel it, too. Watching your car slam into the wall like that… I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing the truth. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore about avoiding you, about lying to you, about any of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I love you too, Carlos. It should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you told me but I just panicked. All I could picture was how this ends a million different ways and each of them were more heartbreaking than the last. But the longer I waited, I just thought it would be too late.”

“It’s never too late, Y/n.” Carlos whispers, brown eyes glossing over as they admire yours. Honestly, unabashedly, and lovingly, for the first time in a while. “I’m still here, aren’t I? After all this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, remember? Some things are worth waiting for.” He holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your fallen tear. “You are worth every second.”

You don’t hold back any longer, closing the gap and kissing him with all that you have. All of the emotions that for too long, had nowhere to go, have now found their home. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the hum of approval he gives you is delicious. If it were at all possible, you feel as close to him as you’ve ever felt, and him to you. Kissing him, feeling your love be reciprocated calms your head and sends your heart ablaze. You’d reckon the wall that stood between you, was always ready to be knocked over with the slightest gust of wind, had you not spent so much time trying to hold it up. Letting go was your best decision to date, the feeling of his lips on yours just confirms that.

It isn’t until the sound of the elevator dings that you pull away, realizing neither of you had pressed a single button upon entry. To your surprise it’s Lando, his grin smug like he’d just pulled off some kind of heist. You and Carlos instinctively try to put an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, only this time, nobody would believe there’s anything platonic about you two. By the looks of Carlos’ tousled hair and the smudges of your once perfect lip gloss, Lando needs no explanation from either of you.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on.” Lando laughs, reaching inside and pressing the ‘Close Doors’ button. “I’ll take the stairs.”

💌: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[shanklin]

In a world where the belief of humans can create gods and deities, Stan dies from an infection soon after losing Ford.

It’s just a minor setback! Or so Ghost!Stan tells himself as he tries desperately to figure out how to touch stuff again. It doesn’t help that Ford warded most of his things against ghosts.

One day while practicing to become corporeal Stan comes across a couple of weird creatures [a gorilla wearing underwear? Unicorn made out of corn? A horse riding another horse? What?] ranting about Bigfoot and how stuck up she’s gotten ever since she ascended to godhood just because some crazy fanatics turned the hunt for her into a cult.

Meanwhile smaller szories and folktales like them are trying their hardest to survive. But peoples belief is fading and soon they will be forgotten and cease to exist.

This changes everything! Stan knows a great business opportunity when he sees it!

It’s almost too easy to abuse the system.

Religion has always been a scam in Stan's opinion. So he might as well turn himself into a god.

Good thing Ford did all the hard work for him by becoming the mysterious science man in the woods. All Stan has to do is to make himself visible long to create Mr. Mystery.

The belief of the townsfolk grants Stan enough strength to become corporeal and soon enough Stan opens his temple [tourist trap] for business. 

People pilgrimage to his holy ground, pay tithings [entrance fees] listen to his sermons [tours] and leave offerings [cash] in exchange for blessings [cheap souvenirs Stan tells them will bring them luck]. They even take little statues of him back home and convert others to believe in him as well. [It's a fun tourist trap why wouldn't you believe the owner exists].

Eventually he even gets his own priests [employees] to help him out.

In exchange for favours Stan also promotes the almost forgotten and fading folktales he meets. They quickly become his most loyal followers. Stan may have scammed his way into godhood at record speed but he still cares for the little guys. He’s saving their lives and they could not be more grateful. 

The other gods however HATE him but cant do anything about it because he's not technically breaking any rules.

With every new believer Stan grows stronger and changes.

His lies turn into reality. His souvenirs become actual blessed artifacts protecting the owners and Stan becomes one with Gravity Falls. Its true protective deity. Time has no meaning and throws up a barrier protecting his home. The same one Ford has already studied in the past.

And when the zodiac fails and Stan tells Bill that that doesn’t matter because Bill will die here, Gravity Falls rumbles with excitement.

Stan spins a story about the deity protecting this land and how they will not allow Bill to break the barrier or harm them any further.

All Stan needs for everyone to do is to close their eyes and pray.

“Stan, we don't have time for your ridiculous lies!”

“Just once in your life do as I say and believe in me, Sixer!”

The people of Gravity Falls have surprising faith in their local conman and so do the kids. With no other options left Ford closes his eyes and says a short prayer.

When he opens his eyes again the world is engulfed in blue flames and before him stands the young form of his brother surrounded by the real life versions of fake tourist attractions.

Stan puts on his holy knuckle dusters and grins. 

[seat-safety-switch]

Elevator racing isn't for everyone. Hollywood movies make it look like it's just a matter of getting in there and pushing the right buttons until you win. They miss all the strategy. The camaraderie. The intense, sweaty moments where you're heading to the top floor, getting real close to overspeed, and can't remember exactly what flywheel weights you put into the brake governors.

I started like a lot of other people do: being afraid of elevators in tall buildings. Couple lurching stops as a kid at the department store is all it took to put the fear in me. That, and a very overzealous imagination. It's easy, when you don't know anything, to imagine falling to your death in a darkened elevator shaft. Tried to stay on the third floor, tops. Changed dentists when he moved to the fifth floor of the Cascadian Promenade downtown.

Back then, I hesitate to admit, I'd even take the stairs. Getting my steps, I'd tell my coworkers. Show them my glittering, buzzing smartwatch, its screen throbbing with RGB-firework satisfaction with my amount of physical toil for the morning. Gotta get my steps. Of course, this was a bold lie to cover my fear of the unnatural world, just like all physical fitness is. Nowadays, the most walking I do at the big tournaments is to go on the podium to accept my trophy.

So how did I get from that pitiful state of fearing mortality to the vertical-movement-competition champion you see before you today? Again, Hollywood would tell you I pushed the right buttons. And they're half right. The secret to a true elevator racer is that one morning where you wonder what the "speed" setting does on a laptop left carelessly behind by the Otis guy.

[maximura]

Since I have decided it’s Seongjoong Saturday, here are random things my mind thinks about them (historical inaccuracies included):

1. Seonghwa is the dominant one who calls the plays but he’s clever enough to give Hongjoong the illusion and delusion that he’s in control.

2. Sometimes Seonghwa is the hissy cat and sometimes he’s the tired golden retriever. Hongjoong adjusts himself accordingly because Ateez would implode otherwise.

3. Their favourite child is Yunho because that dude is the only sane one in that group.

4. Seonghwa scorned is like a Scorched-Earth-Apocalypse. Hongjoong scorned is like when a toddler throws a tantrum then immediately takes a nap because he tired himself out.

5. I know for a fact that at least once (a month) Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong’s outfit, purses his lips like Miranda Priestly and sighs in grave disappointment.

[themeaningthemeaningthe]

can’t sleep for other reasons and my brain can’t stop thinking about a post i saw and initially ignored but keep having thoughts about. i didn’t comment on it or anything and now it’s lost to the ether and i don’t wanna go looking for it but these thoughts gotta go somewhere.

this will be long and rambling and probably a little incoherent cuz it’s 3am.

the post was someone saying that they finally picked up gideon the ninth after years of seeing locked tomb posts and griddlehark, then dropped it after like 2 chapters bcuz they think the dynamic between gideon and harrow is abusive (which is fair when u first start it) and they can’t believe people are into it as enemies to lovers. on the one hand, people are totally cool to just not like something for whatever reason, i myself just have thoughts about the Nuance that i didn’t express on the post that i now must here.

lots of important spoilers for GtN!! (and maybe accidentally ones to HtN)

ok here’s the rant.

that’s the point!!!!! that’s the point.

they are terrible to each other and they have always been. the growth and the development of their character dynamics together explores how this thing between them that has always been sharp and seething and spiky must buckle under the weight of outside pressure beyond anything they could have imagined.

in a very important pool scene (one that is ubiquitous in fanart and i have to believe this poster saw at least a few times) we get an explanation from harrow! and not only does this give us a more full look into the context of drearbruh outside of gideons narrow point of view, but it also makes more clear why they were like That.

i’m sorry but literally harrow is 200 dead kids that her parents killed to make her, and gideon is the one kid they couldn’t kill. and gideon realizes once told this, she is the living reminder of the war crime committed to save the house, and no one who knows can forget it.

and harrow has known the truth of her origin since she was old enough to comprehend anything!! so yeah, a traumatized child who knows she’s the entirety of a generation of her house is gonna lash out at literally the only other child on the planet who she happens to also have power over.

and i feel like the book makes this pretty clear!! this was bad!! but also, these are two traumatized kids growing up in a dying, creepy, planet that is lowkey hell.

the other key thing about the pool scene, is that it is a Confession. these books are sooo steeped in catholicism. harrow isn’t just explaining the true history of her life, she is Confessing all of the sins that make her up and all of the sins she has committed. bearing the entirety of the wretchedness of her soul for gideon judge. expecting her only friend whom she has made miserable for years to kill her.

and i know we joke about gideon being lesbian jesus, but there’s a reason for that (besides the obvious). bcuz after hearing her Confession, gideon baptized harrow in that pool.

one flesh one end, bitch.

and also like yeah griddlehark is an enemies to lovers in some ways, but i feel like also not in the typical way you would think about that trope?? bcuz correct me if im wrong but they never really become lovers (and i personally am not sure they ever will). yes they love each other and make the grandest gestures of love imaginable. but that love is inevitably fucked up in some ways and it’s impossible for it to not be.

god that was way too long. anyway. some Nuance is necessary.

[i-dared-myself]

Instances

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hiii helloooooo 👋!! I know you didn’t even write this request yet 👉https://www.tumblr.com/i-dared-myself/773155354439778304/ BUT it inspired me to ask if you could do something similar but sorta like 'moments the 9th member questioned if her members were actually ✨️just friends✨️ of hers' or 'the members being too in love with her to be subtle and she questioning it all' ykwim??? 😋

The first instance in which you questioned your relationship with the other members was, unfortunately, on camera. It was to be edited before uploading, thank goodness, or else the shipping would have been off the charts.

The group had been given costumes for another one of the role-playing games, and everyone was arguing over who was to be which role.

“Obviously you’ll be the princess,” Jisung says as he hands you your dress. It’s big and poofy and a tiny piece of you is squealing that this is your childhood dream come true.

“Okay.” You accept the clothes and slip into a changing room. When you return, none of the others have gotten dressed yet. They’re still in normal clothes.

“I could totally take Jeongin in a fight,” Hyunjin exclaims, tossing his hip to the side. 

Changbin gives him a skeptical look. “Still…”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Really? What about Chan? You think you could defeat him too?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flicks over the older man before he nods. “Yeah.”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. “Just put the costume on. We need to hurry this up.”

Hyunjin groans, but obeys. He grabs one of the many sets of clothing and bustles off with it.

“Are you guys almost done yet?” you impatiently ask. “Hurry this up.”

Felix brightens. “Help us choose! Who should be the prince?”

You shrug and pull out your phone. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

You hear Seungmin mutter something before your chin is tilted up and away from your phone screen. You’re staring up at him, face burning as his tongue wets his lips.

“Help us decide?” His eyelids fluter almost all the way shut. “Please, princess?”

You regain your bearings and swat his hand away. You gather your skirts up and stomp away, sneering at him. The camera crew splits up so some of them follow you.

“What was that?” Jisung scowls at Seungmin. “You’re cheating.”

Seungmin’s shoulders shake as he laughs. He smiles enough that his lips lift up to show his gums, eyes wrinkling shut. “Maybe it wasn’t for the game. Maybe I did it for me.”

You choke on absolutely nothing and fumble with your phone. It drops and just before it hits the ground, Changbin scoops it up and presses it into your grip.

“Go get ready, okay?” He smiles gently. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

So you rush off to the set, sitting on the couch. It has been designed to look like a medieval castle, with a stone fireplace in the back. 

Eventually the others file in, and you’re surprised at the costumes everyone has been forced into.

Chan appears to be dressed as a knight, although the chest plate is hanging at an odd angle. His eyebrows are pinched together slightly as he attempts to fix it.

Hyunjin is sporting a bright blue dress with more sparkles than yours. You’re instantly jealous, even more so when you notice his giant wings.

Changbin got the short stick. He’s dressed in a dragon onesie with the hood pulled up over his head.

Jisung sits next to you on the couch, a weird hat with a feather on it placed precariously on his head. He’s holding a strange instrument that resembles a guitar.

 Minho has a wig on that flows down to his waist. His dress is a dark green and it’s rumbled near his shoulder from him constantly fiddling with it.

Jeongin is next to him, on a throne it seems. A crown sits atop his head as he adjusts his pants.

Felix sits at Minho and Jeongin’s feet, legs crossed beneath him. He has a smaller version of Jeongin’s crown and a tiny frown.

Seungmin has long black robes and a fake beard. He keeps tripping over the robes as he makes his way to his designated spot.

“Everyone’s here,” the manager says. “This is similar to the family video, but without the missions. Try to maintain your roles the whole time, but if anything happens we’ll just edit it out.”

“So we’re just chatting, in character?” Chan summarizes. When the manager nods, Chan smiles and faces the group. “Everyone introduce themselves!”

You slowly stand, smoothing out your dress. “I am the beautiful princess. I am the fairest in the land, well-known for my hotness.”

Seungmin strokes his beard, humming. “You’re lucky we don’t have any frogs.”

You stick your tongue out at him as you sit back down. Felix stands next, clearing his throat.

“I am Prince Felix!” he announces, spreading his arms dramatically. “Son of King Jeongin and Queen Minho! Fiancé to Princess-“

“Hold on,” you interrupt, making Jisung snicker. “When was that part of the characters?”

The staff all shrug and motion for Felix to continue.

Felix saunters over to you, kneeling and taking your hand. He raises the back of it to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses to it.

Then he looks up, and your breath catches at the intensity in his eyes.

“My son!” Minho snaps. “You little bastard, get over here!”

The staff wearily say a reminder to watch the language. But you know it will be edited out regardless.

“Who’s next?” Chan questions. 

Jeongin gets to his feet and adjusts his crown. “I’m the king! I have announced his engagement to her, but um, I love harems. I’m still looking for my own if she-“

Minho slaps his arm, scowling. “And what about me, huh?”

Felix hides a laugh, ducking his head. “My father is trying to steal my fiancée!”

“Hey, maybe she’s into DILFs.” Seungmin shrugs. He clears his throat and deepens his voice in an imitation of a wizard. “I mean, maybe she’s down to fuck a daddy.”

The staff all facepalm and mutter out reminders to calm down a little.

“Wouldn’t that be me, then?” Chan lifts a hand into the air hesitantly. “I think I’m more daddy than Jeongin.”

“No. You’re the knight that swore to forever remain a virgin,” Jisung sternly says. “Stay in character!”

“When did I-“ Chan cuts himself off with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Whatever.

“Shut up, virgin boy!” Hyunjin waves his arms to get everyone attention. “What about me? Don’t I get a love interest? What if I run off with the princess? It could be so dramatic and scandalous and-“

“You can get the wizard.” Changbin points to Seungmin. “You both have magic.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and groans. “But I don’t want the old wizard!”

Felix gathers you in his arms, dipping you slightly. “Please don’t leave me for my father. Uh, he has herpes.”

Jeongin splutters out a protest. “I do not have herpes!”

“Maybe it’s from that harem you’re putting together,” Minho grumbles. His chin rests on his fist.

Felix falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. “Please! I can’t stand the humiliation!”

“Yes please,” Jisung randomly says from the back. When Chan narrows his eyes at him, Jisung’s face turns bright red.

“I think it would be even more scandalous if I ran off with the princess,” Minho chimes in. “Instead of evil step-mother, I’m the hot step-mom. Except not step-mom.”

“No,” Hyunjin immediately says. “It should be me since I’m supposed to get them their happily ever after. So it would be hilarious if she runs off into the sunset with me.”

“Or what if I don’t have an affair, and just marry the prince,” you suggest, much to Felix’s delight.

Seungmin considers it for a moment before snorting. “Nah. Boring.”

“I challenge thee!” Jisung shouts at Felix. “A duel to the death! For her hand in marriage!”

You’re still wondering what is going on, when you’re suddenly hoisted over Changbin’s head. Your skirts fall into his face.

“I am the evil dragon, here to kidnap the princess and keep her in my lair!” he cries. “None shall best me!”

Felix gasps and covers his mouth. “Someone kill him! He’s stealing my wife-to-be!”

Chan levels his sword (pool noodle) at the fearsome beast (Changbin). “I shall defeat him and regain your fiancée! For the low price of some gold and maybe her hand in marriage.”

Felix purses his lips before shrugging. “I can live with sharing. Do it!”

Changbin starts laughing maniacally and spins around to sprint away. Because he can’t see with your dress in the way, he promptly smacks into a wall and collapses on the ground.

Chan gently places his foot on Changbin’s back, lifting his weapon proudly in the air. “I did it!”

Half the staff have left at this point. The remaining ones seem to be on the verge of tears.

“What if we just all share.” Jisung looks to Felix with his suggestion. “We all marry the princess, and each other.”

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Sure,” Felix relents. 

“Let’s just scrap this whole idea actually,” the manager says. “Go home, everyone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second instance was, unfortunately, on stage.

You had been unaware of changes to the set, and when you were about to make your entrance, smoke machines were activated. You wander out from the cloud, joining the others on stage. You wheeze slightly, which causes Hyunjin to side-eye you.

“Seungmin,” you mutter from behind him as everyone takes their places for the first song. 

“What?” He gets into the opening position.

“The smoke machine triggered my asthma and I don’t have my inhaler,” you say as you mimic his stance.

“Huh?” Seungmin stumbles over the first move as the song begins. Throughout the entirety of the song, you struggle to keep up. It’s difficult when your chest feels so tight.

Not to mention the lack of air.

When it finally finishes, you slump, hands on your knees as you gasp over and over again. Jeongin pats your back worriedly, looking to Chan for guidance. Seungmin whispers into Chan’s ear as Jisung and Minho distract the crowd off to the side.

“Inhaler?” Chan rushes to you. “You have asthma?”

“It’s no big deal.” You wave a hand before sucking in as deep a breath as you can. It comes out of you in a desperate cough. “It hasn’t been bad for a couple years so I just-“

“Save your air,” Chan cuts you off. He straightens and checks for a staff member. When he finds one who’s close enough to the stage, he motions them over.

They seem confused, but do approach.

“Take her backstage and get her a medic,” Chan orders. He lifts a finger to brandish at you. “And fucking stay there until we get back.”

You wince at his tone, but walk away. You go down the steps and shuffle backstage. The crowd roars in bewilderment, but Felix diverts their attention with his abs.

The rest of the show goes by without you. You have your phone to amuse you, but it doesn’t help with the nauseating ball of nerves in your stomach.

Chan seemed really mad. What if you got kicked out of the group for this? You missed a whole concert.

Finally, they come back to see you. You can’t tell what they’re saying, since they’re all talking at once.

Chan stands there with his arms crossed. You swallow as you glance up at him, twisting your hands anxiously.

“You never told me you have asthma,” he eventually says. The others stop their rambling so he can speak.

You blink last the tears threatening to form. “I’m sorry, I just- I get it if you want to kick me out now and- and-“

“Oh!” His eyes widen and he wraps his arms around you reassuringly. “No, that’s not what I meant. We were just worried, baby.”

“The whole show, all I could think about was you,” Changbin adds. 

“When are you not thinking about her?” Seungmin mumbles.

You’re still just staring at them blankly, because Chan called you baby. Did it slip out? Is there meaning behind it?

“Honey?” Jeongin places his chin on your shoulder once Chan steps away. “How are you feeling?”

Is this a thing now? Are nicknames what everyone’s doing these days?

“Better,” you respond. You push past the thoughts swirling in your head. “It wasn’t bad enough that I almost died, but I’ll be feeling it for a couple days.”

“Where’s your inhaler, love?” Hyunjin questions, circling his thumb over the top of your hand. 

Your brain short-circuits. “Uh. In- In the dorms. But it expired a year ago.”

“We’ll get you a new one tonight, doll,” Minho promises. 

“Will you carry it around at all times, angel?” Changbin asks softly.

You manage to whisper out an affirmation, unsure of what’s going on. 

“Good girl,” Felix remarks, slipping on his jacket.

“I’m gonna-“ you cough, “go wait in the van.”

Jisung flashes you a worried look. “We’ll be there after we change, sunshine.”

“We have our phones if you need us, darling.” Seungmin smiles fondly at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And the third was, fortunately, alone. It was when you finally addressed everything, as well.

About a month after the concert, the nicknames were still a thing. They used your name in public, but anytime you were alone they refused.

It was always Hand me the butter, baby or Wanna go shopping, doll?

But what makes you snap is when you break your wrist. Not just the injury itself, but how they react.

You come out of a turn unbalanced and fall, landing on your hand. You yelp at the sudden throbbing pain in your wrist once, and then they rush you to the hospital.

You are put into a cast and sent home, loopy on pain medication. You had apparently broken your wrist, although you found it hard to believe. No matter how many times they showed you your X-ray, you couldn’t comprehend it.

Jeongin said that was the medication talking.

So you sit on the couch, staring at the cast. It’s a pale blue colour that’s frankly depressing.

“You ready for bed yet, angel?” Changbin asks gently. He rubs your shoulder soothingly.

“Not yet.” You look up from it to the television, watching whatever show Jisung had thrown on. 

“I’ll wake you when it’s time for your next dose of pain killers, baby.” The bags under Chan’s eyes have never seemed larger. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” You lean back against the couch. You slide off it after a moment, resting on the floor. “Tired.”

“Then go sleep, doll,” Minho chides. He sighs and shakes his head. “Honestly…”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” you stubbornly say. You try to cross your arms to further prove your point, but whimper when you bend your arm the wrong way.

Seungmin jumps to attention and whips around. He eases your limbs down and squeezes your non-injured hand. “You need rest! Just go to bed, darling!”

“I can’t tie my hair back,” you mutter angrily. Your face heats at the admission. “So I’m just going to never sleep and that way I won’t have to deal with it.”

Hyunjin squints at you. “Yeah, she’s out of it.”

“I’ll tie it for you, honey,” Jeongin tells you. He arranges himself behind you, running his fingers through your hair. “Does anyone have a hair elastic?”

Felix peels one off his wrist and hands it over. He strokes his thumb over your cheek comfortingly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need your inhaler? Are you good to sleep alone tonight?”

You nod, making Jeongin groan as he loses his progress. “I’m fine, Felix. Jeez…”

Chan’s tone sharpens. “Baby, is something wrong?”

“You guys have just been so weird lately,” you slur, the exhaustion from the day and the medication getting to you more then you’re trying to let on. “Pet names and acting all worried and shit.”

Jisung splutters. “No we’re not! We’re normal!”

Hyunjin shoots him a filthy look. “Ignore him.”

“In truth, we’ve realized something,” Changbin carefully says. 

Seungmin rubs at his face. “I guess we’re doing this.”

You’re limp at the feeling of Jeongin toying with your hair. You can barely put the thoughts together to say, “Huh?”

“We like you.” Minho pauses the show you had forgotten about. He faces you, expression serious. “And we understand if you don’t want to date because we work together.”

“Or because there’s eight of us.” Jeongin chuckles. 

You swallow and glance down at your lap. “It’s okay.”

Felix shifts. “Uh, okay then…”

You stare into nothing for a second before standing, your hair complete. You lean down to kiss Jeongin. “Goodnight.”

Jeongin blinks after you pull away. “Uh… Sweet dreams.”

So you kiss everyone goodnight before wandering up the stairs to bed. They all watch you go before Changbin sighs.

“She’s too tired and drugged up to realize we’re not actually dating yet, isn’t she.”

Jisung hums his agreement. “We’ll tell her in the morning.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I Won't Say (I'm In Love) ~ Tony's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,215ish

Request: Won't Say from Hercules + Natasha is quite sure Tony and reader are in love with each other, but she's after more info so she can try and work out a plan to get them together. She's managed to get a confession out of Tony. Now she's trying to get her best friend to confess, maybe during a girl's night in movie night along with Wanda. But she's stubborn as fuck. But so is Nat, and she ain't ending this night without the info she wants!

Notes: I hope this makes sense... I'm a little worried especially since I steered away from the request a bit.

“If there’s a prize for rotten judgement

I guess I’ve already won that

No man is worth the aggravation

That’s ancient history, been there, done that”

You sighed as you came home from yet another failed date. Another man who cared more about you being a housewife than a working Avenger. You carried your shoes in your hand as you made your way to the common room of the Compound for a drink.

“You alright?” Tony’s voice had you jumping.

“Tony!” You exclaimed. He was sitting on the couch, nursing his own drink. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he shot you a smile. “But seriously, you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just another failed attempt at dating.” You grabbed a beer from the fridge before plopping down next to Tony on the couch. “I’m beginning to think it’s not worth it anymore.”

“What? Dating?”

“Yeah. Searching for someone to spend your life with. They either are awful straight from the start or they hook you in and break your heart once you’re fully committed… I think I’ll stick to being single.”

“Not everyone is like that. You just have to find the right one.” Tony stood up. “Don’t drink too much of my liquor worrying about it.” He leaned down and kissed your head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Tones.”

You sighed as Tony disappeared down the hall. You hated the reason behind your insistence on going on dates. Anthony Edward Stark. He was your type. Similar to guys you’ve dated before. Which is why you’d never admit to your feelings for him. You would just get hurt if you did. Tony wasn’t the type for a serious relationship, at least not anymore. He made that very clear since his and Pepper’s break up where he was back to sleeping around with any woman who looked at him a certain way. You couldn’t let yourself be one of them, knowing that you couldn’t keep your feelings in check.

~~~

Natasha woke up at her usual time to work out, surprised to see that Tony was already in the gym, a sweaty mess.

“Hard night?” She questioned, coming over to where the man was running on the treadmill.

“Something like that,” he grumbled, focusing on his running.

“Did Y/N go on another date last night?” Tony didn’t bother answering that question. “You know that there’s an easy solution to this. Just ask her out.”

“Natasha—“

“She’ll say yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

Natasha stepped onto the front of the treadmill to be face to face with the billionaire. “And if I find out it’s true, will you ask her out?”

“Maybe.”

“Great.” She jumped off the treadmill and headed for the door.

“Wait.” He paused the treadmill and jumped off it. “Where are you going?”

“To gather the evidence I need to stop you guys from being idiots any longer.”

“Who’d you think you’re kidding?

He’s the earth and heaven to you

Try to keep it hidden

Honey, we can see right through you (oh, no)

Girl, you can’t conceal it

We know how you feel and who you’re thinking of (oh)”

You were sitting on the couch in the common room, various teammates around. Vision was talking about something that you had stopped listening to some time ago. Your focus was on Tony. He was standing in the kitchen area, preparing a cup of coffee while talking to Bruce.

Natasha caught you staring and rolled her eyes. She tapped your arm, causing you to look her way, before she motioned to the hallway with her head. You knew that if she wanted to talk, there was no avoiding her. You followed her into one of the conference rooms down the hallway.

“What’s up?” You asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Natasha leaned against the large glass conference table, arms folded over her chest. “Can you make it more obvious?”

“What are you talking about, Nat?”

“The fact that you’re head over heels in love with Tony.”

“No chance, no way

I won’t say it, no, no

You swoon, you sigh

Why deny it? Oh-oh

It’s too cliche (oh)

I won’t say I’m in love (shoo-doop, shoo-doop)

(Ooh)”

Your heart dropped at Natasha’s statement. “Wh—What? No, I’m not.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Your eyes were practically in the shape of hearts.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, Nat. Tony is my friend. That is all.”

“You’re really going to try to lie to me?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Okay, I see how it is.” Natasha stood up and went to the door. “You know, keeping your feelings inside will only hurt you both more, right?”

“I’ve been hurt too many times, Nat. I can’t do it again. With anyone. No more dates for me. I’m good with being all by myself.”

“I thought my heart had learned its lesson (ooh)

It feel so good when you start out (ooh)

My head is screaming, ‘get a grip, girl!” (Ah)

Unless you’re dying to cry your heart out”

Clearly, your heart had not learned its lesson. Though you had been pushing your feelings down for Tony successfully for a while now, something happened since your talk with Natasha. You were acting like an idiot. Like some middle schooler who couldn’t talk to her crush and it was becoming a serious problem.

“Are you doing okay, Y/N?” Tony asked one day after you ruined something in his lab when he was helping fit you to a new suit. “Something’s been… off lately with you. I’m started to grow concerned.”

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, unable to met his gaze. You internally cringed, wishing that you could just get a grip already.

“Cause that was believable.” He continued working. “You know that you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.” Just never about this, you thought. 

“You keep on denying (oh)

Who you are and how you’re feeling

Baby, we’re not buying

Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling (oh)

Face it like a grown-up

When you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad? (Whoa)”

Just another one of these stupid gala’s that the Team was forced to attend. You were standing to the side of the room, eyes focused on your drink. You were dressed in something that Natasha had picked for you and immediately noticed that Tony was wearing a matching tie as soon as you got here. You were trying to avoid everything and everyone, too caught up in your own world, to notice someone coming up to you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You jumped at Tony’s voice, despite it being one of your favorite things to hear. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “Came to check on you. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Fine.”

One of his brows rose as he looked at your unbelievingly. “Well, I think I have an idea to make it better.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the dance floor.

“Tony, no, I—“

“You need to relax.” 

Tony took your drink and set it on the nearby table before tugging you into the middle of the crowd of couples dancing. He readjusted the hand he was already holding so that it was better for dancing while his other hand came around your back and pulled you close to him. He began leading you in a small circle. His eyes were focused on you while you were trying to look anywhere else.

“You keep doing that,” he mumbled.

“What?” You questioned, still not looking at him.

“Avoiding me… why?”

“I— I’m not avoiding you.”

Tony scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me. You won’t even look at me.” Your eyes slowly met his deep brown ones. A small smile formed across his face. “There they are… I’ve missed those beautiful eyes.”

Your heart was hammering against your chest as your face heated up at his words. You had to force yourself not to look away.

“We used to talk about everything,” Tony admitted quietly. “But you’ve been pulling away.”

“Just a lot going on,” you muttered. “Been pulled on a lot of different missions.”

“That’s not it and you know it… Is it… are you… is there some you’re seeing? Did a date workout?”

“No,” you quickly shook your head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I just mean that good that no one’s hurting you. That— That’s it.”

The Team watched as you and Tony continued to dance and chat.

“She’s clearly in love with him,” Natasha commented. “Why can’t she see how in love with her Tony is?”

“Stop meddling, Nat,” Steve reprimanded. “Let things happen when they happen.”

“Says the man who waited too long.”

“Hey! That was low.”

“But true,” Bucky commented.

“There has to be a way that we can get them together,” continued Nat. “And I will be making it happen. Just watch.”

“No chance, no way

I won’t say it, no, no

Give up, give in

Check the grin, you’re in love

This scene won’t play

I won’t say I’m in love (you’re doing flips)

(Read our lips, you’re in love)”

Tony and you were in the lab. He had requested your help with one of his suits. The suit just shot him across the lab and you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

“Tony!” You laughed. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” he groaned, sitting up.

You rushed over and reached out a hand. Tony grabbed your outstretched hand, but instead of using it to pull himself up, he pulled you down. You squealed as you landed on Tony. He laughed, securing you to him. You froze as you realized how close your faces were. Tony’s laughter died down too as his eyes flickered to your lips. You shivered as his hand slipped up your body to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing against your skin.

“I…” you breathed out, mind reeling. “I got to go.”

You quickly pushed yourself off of Tony and rushed out of the room. Tony sighed, putting his hands over his eyes and he got angry with himself.

“You’re way off base

I won’t say it (she won’t say it loud)

Get off my case (sha-la)

I won’t say it (ooh)

Girl, don’t be proud

It’s okay, you’re in love”

You had been completely avoiding Tony since the incident in the lab and everyone, especially Tony, can tell. 

“Leave me alone, Nat!” You yelled as she tried to convince you to talk to Tony for what felt like the millionth time that day. “Seriously!”

“You are doing more harm than good at this point, Y/N!” She replied, not giving up. “Just be honest with yourself and Tony. You both deserve better than this.”

“Please, leave me be, Nat!”

“It’s okay to feel this way! It’s normal to be in love and to be scared. Tony’s scared too.”

“You don’t know what you’re taking about.”

Natasha sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to back down so it was time for her plan B to be put into place. She got a tranquilizer gun from her boot and shot you in the back. You gasped, falling forward and passing out quickly. She shook her head as she grabbed your body and began dragging you away.

~~~

You woke up with a groan. Looking around, you realized that you were laying on a table in one of the conference rooms. Tony was on the other end, sitting in one of the chairs.

“What’s—“ You cut yourself up to clear your throat as you sat up. “What’s going on?”

“Romanoff,” Tony answered. “She locked us in here and isn’t going to let us out unless…”

“Unless?”

Tony sighed, lifting his head to look at you. “Unless we confess our feelings.”

“No,” you immediately said, shaking your head. You scrambled off the table and onto your feet. “She can’t do this.”

Tony stood up and slowly began coming over to you. “Why? Why can’t she?”

“Because… Because… I… She just can’t.”

“Is it because you don’t feel the way she thinks you do or is it because you do?”

“Tony… I can’t… I won’t say anything… I can’t get hurt again.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, sweetheart… Never.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“But I can show it. If you’d let me.”

“Tony… I…” Your heart was screaming at you to just tell him that you loved him, but your mind was winning. “I… I’m sorry… I can’t say it. I can’t. I… I care too much… I have to protect myself. I have to—“

Tony grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His lips attached to yours in a swift motion, catching you off guard.

“Oh

At least out loud

I won’t say I’m in love

(Shoo-doop, shoo-doop, shoo-doop, shoo-doop)

(Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ah)”

Tony guided you through the tender kiss, his hands holding your face close to his. You allowed yourself to relax and melt into him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips when he finally broke the kiss. “I love you, too. And I will do whatever I can to show you every day.” His lips pecked yours. “Every damn day. I love you.”

“And if I won’t say it back just yet?” you nervously questioned.

“You don’t ever have to say it, if you’re not ready. But I’ll still be here. I promise.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 131 (The Gold Medallion)

Heather and Spencer were both grateful when the antidote arrived by morning. Spencer met a local merchant near the cantina for the medicine while Heather stayed in bed to rest. Once she drank it she felt better, if still a little nauseous, but after lunch the girls decided to venture to the museum.

They set up a few dig sites and found a few relics, but when the sun got too hot, the women changed into sundresses.

Finally, the sun was so hot they gave up digging and took shelter inside the museum. Walking through different rooms to view the priceless artifacts on display, Heather stopped when her phone beeped with an incoming text.

Suri keeps talking about getting married after her Aunt Elsa's death and I think she's going to propose to me. What should I say?!?

(I know that's not what the pop up says, but if I make these canon, they can't all be the same scenario as a ring in a bag!)

Heather was surprised to learn Hazel and Suri were already thinking about marriage, and she didn't feel equipped to offer advice one way or another.

This is a big decision and you should decide this for yourself, Dandelion. Love you.

She thought her answer more than sufficient, but Hazel was clearly upset and texted back quickly.

I thought I could really rely on you for life advice, sis. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have to ask.

Heather frowned. That definitely could have gone better.

"Hey Heather, come in here. Come look at this."

She put her phone away and found Spencer in a stone-walled room, standing before a diamond-studded gold medallion inside a glass display. A plaque on the wall revealed the medallion's inscription - found deep inside the Selvadoradian jungle decades earlier, the medallion was inscribed "A gift from Malcom A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth."

Spencer chuckled. "A Lady Goth and a Landgraab? That's a wild combination."

Heather froze. "Lady Victorine Goth and Malcolm A. Landgraab? How old is this necklace?"

"They think it's from the early 20th Century," Spencer read. "Malcolm A. Landgraab was a rancher out west, and Lady Victorine Goth was Lady Ravendancer before her marriage, one of the world's most powerful spellcasters who published a book of spells. But both were married to other people and there's no evidence they ever knew each other."

"Other than this necklace," Heather mused. "I should ask Mortimer Goth about it. Maybe he knows something about them."

"Do you think it'll have something to do with the curse?"

Heather shrugged. "Hopefully there's no curse, but if there is, and it does have something to do with it, I have to know more for Ash's sake."

Despite taking the antidote, Heather still felt feverish and fatigued. They headed back to the rental so she could take a nap, and Spencer took the time to analyze some of her new artifacts.

By dinnertime, Heather was feeling peckish, so they returned to the square for a nice evening in town with the locals. Heather remembered Conrad's fear that they could run into members of Los Tigres de Selva, but she was feeling well enough to really enjoy herself and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The night was warm, so they both dressed accordingly. On the way into the square, Spencer made an offering to the statue of Madre Cosecha, a Selvadoradian custom.

"She helped settle this place during a time of great famine," explained Spencer. "A true hero. Hopefully she can help keep us safe on our temple dig tomorrow."

Heather smiled. "We should stock up on more supplies, anyway. She would want us to protect ourselves and I don't need another spider bite."

They enjoyed arepas under the lights and chatted proudly about their kids. "Violet gets into everything, and she's got her older brothers wrapped around her grubby little fingers."

"She sounds a lot like Lavender. One minute she's sitting quietly looking through a book, and the next minute she's tearing through the bookshelf. And Ash has me convinced I could design an adventure game featuring stray pets. I even reached out to a philanthropist who loves to help game developers as a hobby named Cal Anthony, Jr. Suri actually recommended him - he's married to her mother's cousin, Olivia - but he said this was totally doable and he'd be happy to mentor me anytime. I think I might actually do it. I even have a name - Furever Friends: Stray Valley. I couldn't decide which I liked better so I added a colon to use both!"

"That sounds amazing, Heather. I'm sure my kids would love to play a game like that! How are things with you and Ash's dad these days?"

"As good as they've ever been, probably. Even when we dated. It's sort of strictly professional between us, but Ash comes home happy from spending time with Malcolm's family, so I can't complain. I guess they just got a new puppy, too."

"The kids won't stop trying to convince us to get another dog," Spencer moaned. "I think we're hoping to change their minds with a hamster, if anything."

When they finished eating, they moved to the cantina, where Heather decided to autonomously mix drinks at the crowded bar. Spencer danced the Selvadoradian rhumba in the courtyard while she talked Omiscan mythology with the locals. She was an expert in Selvadoradian customs after all her time spent in the temples and among the people, and she never tired of talking about the secrets of Selvadorada's past.

Their night continued until Heather began to feel feverish and fatigued again. Though the antidote had seemed to work, the women didn't want to take any chances and called it a night.

As long as Heather was feeling well enough, they had a temple to explore before returning home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Landgraab Curse you say?! More on that, here, if you want to know more.

A massive shout out to @opalsimmer and @berrysims-lp, whose sims Lucia, Silas, Neve, and Terrell first saw this medallion inside the Selvadorada museum! I recreated it in my game with @opalsimmer's help and intend to explore this mysterious Landgraab/Goth lore. (Uncovering some family secrets, of course!)

And thank you @oimygiblets for letting me make Calivia Forever canon even though your story takes place about three decades before mine!! And @opalsimmer and @matchalovertrait for naming Heather's video game! 🙌🙌🙌

[atangledfate]

Lanolin was happy to just have found everyone and insured that no one was in trouble. Sometimes she felt like a Mom chasing after her kids! Though at least one of them was disciplined enough to stay where she said she'd be. But she had the books she wanted, a language book for translations, a history book and a geography book. All things she was sure the brains back home would tear apart in days and figure it all out. On top of all of that Tangle hadn't offended the royal and in fact they seemed to be getting along well.

" Oh yea! well mostly thanks to my Uncle! I was a bit of a trouble maker when i was little! so he taught me me to channel it into martial arts! kept me out of trouble! well mostly... still got a call or two for knockin' some bullies around but! ya know kids will be kids right? "

She could have done serious damage in truth but she always had the sense to hold back. But she wasn't about to let mean kids bully her friends! If she had to get a detention or two it was worth it. Still it was nice to have her talents noticed! Next to guys like sonic, and tails it was easy to get overshadowed.

She sighed softly

" It's a pleasure your highness, its a pleasure to meet you. I do hope Tangle's been on her best behavior--- she can be a little rambunctious. "

Duo only smiled at Reyna and scratched his chin a little meekly as he hadn't meant to startled Lanolin so much. But he was a cat and naturally stealthy it seemed. Still it was a bit funny to hear her make that sound true silliness. A fair way to distract from his disappearance he hoped. Though Reyna clearly was curious where he'd been and it did make perfect sense to ask.

" Aha--- yea that was the plan and... then i had to go... ya know to the pathroom! which took me a moment to find! and then everything was MUCH bigger then i am! ho boy... this is why the Commander always says to go before a mission... which i normally do but... well this was rather sudden as it were "

Lanolin sighed as she eyed the feline but could understand since he probably just had lunch before coming. Still at least everything turned out ok.

" well its ok Duo, so what process do we need to go through to check these out. I think between what i have here... and the others we have a good bit of info to return to Restoration with. We probably shouldn't be to long or Miss Jewel will worry. "

She admitted clutching the books close to her chest

" Though! its my hope we can plan future expeditions, and establish diplomatic relations properly. Though that is far more Miss Jewels area of expertise then my own "

Reyna was glad that Lanolin seemed to be in wonder of the library. She was absolutely going to invite the sheep over again in the future. Whisper seemed to be settling in nicely, even looking quite cute with the number of books around her. Since they couldn't find Duo, and Tangle was higher priority, she nodded and continued along.

"Hahaha, why that sounds quite a lot like our world's Awoken, which I am one of! My gift was my unique eye sight." He says, as his eyes gaze over Tangle. "And I can see that despite your chipper appearance, you're a natural born fighter. You could switch into a fighting stance as easily as a dragon takes to breathing their natural element." He compliments.

Sadan hears the two approaching, and turns his attention towards them. "Ah, my beloved Reyna, how lovely to see you. I presume you're showing these Mobians around?" He asks.

"Hey honey, and yeah I am! Lanolin, this is my husband Sadan, Emperor of the Ancient Empi-" She begins before she's cut off by the sudden baa. Oh that was so cute! But then she sees Duo. Huh...that was some good stealth on his part. Surprisingly so, for someone so seemingly fresh.

"Duo, what were you doing over here? I thought you said you'd be reading up on our technology." She asks him.