#all the foxes live forever

[tankuare]

Nora said that she knows who dies first between Neil and Andrew and I am BEGGING her never to release that information for my own mental health

[dayurno]

agh….. there are a lot of little things about kevin’s treatment in tkm especially that really hurt me, but the whole situation with telling wymack is the worst of it. give our boy a break 😭😭😭😭 he’s struggling!

SO MEAN TO HIM i was just talking to luni liaisun about this yesterday but the way kevin is blamed for so many things that are not at all his fault (neil going to evermore out of his own volition, kayleigh hiding that he's wymack's son, neil asking him to lie about his past and not tell the foxes that he's the butcher's son) and subsequently isolated from the group because of that is insane LOL i think kevin and andrew get a pretty similar treatment from the upperclassmen but by the end of tkm andrew has been 'humanized' to them through neil while kevin hasnt yet shown the threshold of humanity needed to be treated like a person worthy of grace and understanding

this is mostly a personal opinion and can be totally disregarded from canon intentions but to me kevin's isolation from the foxes is very relevant to my own experiences of navigating the world while noticeably neurodivergent, and its one of the things that brought me closer to kevin's character in the first place. i think while reading it is easy to agree with how the world at large (and even kevin himself at times) thinks kevin is, but kevin's crime really is that he's weird even among people who are weird; he's annoying and he's overinvested and he's programmed and when you're neurodivergent that's three of the top reasons why people choose to deny you kindness and humanity and understanding. i'm not sure where i was going with this and i'm not the best at articulating my thoughts on this subject, and of course kevin is annoying and intense, but that's not. illegal. you know? a person being annoying to you shouldn't make them an easy target for all of your frustrations and that's, ultimately, a very Autistic Experience

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[schrodingersbobby]

I think buddie is definitely going canon. I don't think what Oliver said about the finale should be assumed to be about buddie. I don't think Buck or Eddie's new love interests will be at all serious or endgame in any way. I have no idea if they will break up before the season ends or sometime in season 7. I think the couch is definitely about the Buckley-Diaz family. I'm not setting my heart on any single scene in the finale and I'm keeping an open mind that any scenarios I come up with are equally likely to not be the direction the writers decide to go in. I think the finale will probably have a big buddie moment if nothing else to round up their arc from 6b. I'm content and excited to see the finale however much focus they put on buddie because from everything we've seen it looks to be an incredible episode for all the characters regardless. These are all sentences that can and should and do co-exist. Hope this helps <3

[best-enemies]

I've reached season 5 on my CSI rewatch and I'm a few episodes past "Swap Meet", where a woman is murdered after attending a swing party with other couples from the neighbourhood. Near the end of the episode there's a moment that made me jump from my seat:

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two cups. He hands her a cup of tea.)

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BRASS' OFFICE]

Erin Brady: Everybody fantasizes about other people. (She glances at Grissom.)

Even you, Mr. Grissom. A neighbor, a friend ... girl at the office.

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - HALLWAY]

(The door opens. Paul Brady walks out of the hallway. Erin Brady walks out into the hallway. Sara is sitting in the hallway chair watching them. She watches as they meet and kiss.)

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two culps. He hands her a cup of tea.)

LIKE!!!!!!!

Right after Erin ends her sentence with 'girl at the office', the first time Sara and Grissom meet again, he brings her tea. This might be an innocent interaction but to me it seemed like a nod to this relationship they have where both are into each other, know about the other's feelings, but can't/won't do anything about it (although Sara has kind of given Grissom an ultimatum). I don't know if it was intentional - I'm guessing it is, because I picked it up immediately. I might or might not have squealed in delight.

[the-casbah-way]

sometimes being so overly sensitive makes it hard to function like how do people do it. today we drove past three dead pheasants and i'm expected to be fine about the fact that they died alone and in pain and everyone keeps driving as if they never mattered. as if they didn't live and breathe and think. ok

[multishipper-baby]

Baby fever so bad I've been thinking about the ideal number of kids for characters. What is wrong with me.

[wilder-fangirl]

story in the tags

the unbreakable connection between me and a song I heard in a fanvid over ten years ago

[vuulpecula]

✖ @paramounticebound inquired forever ago: 🎶 prohibition au tho

askbox clear out | 2025 ↳ send a symbol & i'll start a new thread with a starter based off it ↳ 🎶 - for my muse to dance with your muse.

Up on stage, a group of local musicians covered a Sophie Tucker song. The music was good, but the drinks were better. Everywhere one turned, the alcohol was flowing. Hardly anyone mingled without a drink in their hand, unafraid of threat of a raid or, at the very least, a hefty fine. Chicago, so far, was turning out to be quite the city, after all.

Dragging her attention away from the others swooning on the dance floor, Fox returned it to her partner. Twisting a piece of dark hair around her finger at the base of his skull. "Don't you go stepping on my toes, Mr. Singh, these are new shoes." She winked at him as she leaned a little further into his embrace. The band shifted their own tune to something slower. Giving the crowd a chance to catch their breath after a rather rambunctious Charleston. It gave the dance partners a chance to finally talk or drink.

"Have you got a wife back at home, Mr. Singh?" The alcohol made her bold ( or perhaps rude, in some circles ). "Fine man like you ought to have a wife."  

[sweet-milky-tea705]

Am i aspec or just someone who is unable to find anyone who doesnt look gay attractive and lives in the middle of fucking nowhere

[falafels]

pt.35: Kevin’s birthday!! <pt.34 pt.36>

merry TGR day/eve soldiers godspeed to us all

tags for the homies ❤️ @andrewsleftarmband @blurryhour @you-know-i-get-itt @notexactlythatgirl @longspacerat @tessasilverswan @minyard-05 @carbon-dated-gal @bisexualchaosdemon @stormiiflies @watercoloureyes01 @vampire-overlord @iron-sides @azure-wing @buffalo-fox @ohgodnotagainplease @pink-hydrangea @jaywalkerss @ohmynoggin-blog @cosmic-marauder @min-getoutofmy-yard @plazybones @disastersappho @leestars13 @the-witch-forever-lives @minyardsss @post-historical-posts @andabuttonnose @hidinginmyhands @aftg4l @allfor-thegames @kaleidoskuls

[amalashuor]

Between one year and another

The Palestinian people will never forget these moments

They will never forget that the world is celebrating its new year for the second time, and the Palestinian people are welcoming the new year with a hemorrhage of death. They are welcoming the new year with new forms of death. They are dying of hunger - cold - bombing - displacement - siege

They will never forget that they were left to face the most difficult and harshest conditions with zero cubic meters of tools

They will never forget that the sound of their children's frost and freezing did not reach beyond the roof of their tents

Let this silence be forever and let us swallow our regret

Let the world see how we welcome our new year Doctors who stood firm in the face of war for more than 440 days and finally protested while working at Kamal Adwan Hospital

Let the world witness that we are welcoming our new year with the death of more than 7 newborn babies from the severe cold inside the tents.

Let the world witness that we welcome our new year by dying of hunger.

Let the world bear witness that my family is still asking you to donate so that we do not die of cold, hunger and homelessness.

Every person I tag here with your name I want to tell you that me, my family and more than 20 people need your support and to spread the word about us I hope you understand that and help us with all your strength

@omegaversereloaded @punkitt-is-here @paper-mario-wiki @heritageposts

@fairuzfan @90-ghost @schoolhater @jehadism @irhabiya @sayruq @sar-soor @mrala @scodoz @youngmanhattanite @clientsfromhell @wlwaerith @miametropolis @jujusjunk

@dirhwangdaseul @b0nkcreat @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @vamprisms @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @schoolhater @fools-and-perverts2 @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @yekkes @hotvampireadjacent @tododeku-or-bust @marxism-transgenderism

@pcktknife @lana-baumgartner @xxlunawarriorxx @zivazivc

@classychassiss @northern-passage @sillysymbol @dailyquests @tiredguyswag

@transguyhawkeye @ender--slime @miss-galaxy-turtle @see-arcane @spitblaze

@cuntylouis @wander-bunnies @sagescider @jinsouled @gotinterest

@longseasons @boffix @vaugarde @moonscape @bamsara

@busket @fox-guardian @cherryflavoredbutch @stardustfanfare

[lackadaisycats]

I hope you know that literally nobody is going to be able to live up to the standard you, V*v, and Glitch have set and your arrogance and exploitation of your fanbase and connections has screwed millions of creatives out of their dreams because Hollywood is a joke that isn't worth telling and wealthy e-celebs like yourself have claimed the indie scene all to yourselves and moved the goalposts into the stratosphere.

Nope. This isn't a zero sum game. There is not some limited, prescribed number of indie trophy slots that a few studios greedily filled up, blocking everyone else out. That is not how it works. Nothing any other creator is doing - short of personally sending hired goons to your doorstep or stealing your credit cards - is taking anything away from you or preventing your success. In fact if an indie creator can manage to demonstrate that they've got something viable going, it may help to map out a pathway for others.

I think I'm not going to bother trying to address whether or not cartoons in return for support from fans - an entirely voluntary exchange - constitutes exploitation. And I'm living in the Midwest driving a 2007 economy car with 200k+ miles on it, but let's just skip past the assumptions that I'm wealthy and connected too.

Instead, let's get to the weirdly myopic notion that the indie scene is held captive by three studios. Maybe YouTube algorithms or Twitter bubbles are somewhat to blame, but in actuality there are so, so many individual people, friend groups, and small production houses out there making independent animation, I cannot possibly name them all.

Here are some anyway:

Far-Fetched Worthikids Satina | Scumhouse Noodle and Bun Punch Punch Forever Ramshackle Noodle Papajoolia | Pipi Angel Hare | The East Patch Jonni Peppers Salad Fingers Monkey Wrench Studio Heartbreak Felix Colgrave JelloApocalypse Odd1sout (started indie, got picked up by Netflix) Allie Mehner JaidenAnimations Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy Cloudrise | The Worlds Divide Telepurte RubberRoss James Lee ENA Godspeed | Olan Rogers Ollie and Scoops Meat Canyon Port by the Sea Kekeflipnote Boxtown Kevin Temmer Weebl Joel Haver CircleToons Long Gone Gulch Atlas and the Stars Animist Skibidi Toilet A Fox in Space Alex Henderson Talon Toniko Pantoja Sr. Pelo Hullabaloo Kane Pixels (started indie, picked up by A24) Homestar Runner Fennah Gods' School Alan Becker Dungeon Flippers JazLyte Psychicpebbles (started indie, Smiling Friends picked up by AS) Piemations vewn Metal Family Dead Sound chluaid Jacknjellify Betsy Lee | No Evil My Pride Cranbersher GeoExe | Gwain Saga Horatio the Vampire Mech West Playground | Rodrigo Sousa The Brave Locomotive Finchwing (+ many other Warrior Cats animators) Quazies SamBakZa Kamikaze: Trial by Fire

By no means a full list. That's just YouTube, and mostly just English language stuff, and I didn't even get to the multitudes of Warrior Cats animation collabs.

The point is, the indie landscape is vast and populated by creators new and old, making all kinds of animated media from skits, to shows, to ARGs, to films. Audience sizes vary as much as the content, stylistic approaches, subject matter, and budgets do. There are no compliance standards, no gateways to entry, no goalposts. There's not even any preset definition of success except what you decide for yourself.

Anyway, instead of nurturing your resentments, consider making something. I assure you, it's a far more rewarding use of your time and energy, and pretty much no one can stop you. ------------- EDIT- Made some additions to the list based on comments. Thanks!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

One of the funny things about me is that (despite shipping a lot of things) I am unable to imagine Sonic being in a domestic relationship with anyone unless Tails is present.

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 01: CALL ME YOURS

a/n: somewhat (?) proofread! just needed to get it out there, before i forget. 😅 alsooooo if you would prefer shorter but more chapters, let me know 😊 🎶 call me yours by lilian helper 🎶 crush by fox gunn 🎶 there's no way by lauv ft. julia michaels

The moment you walked into the living room, you knew two things: first, the cameras were already rolling, and second, you were absolutely and irreversibly screwed.

There are plenty of things to be concerned about when you walked onto the Inside set—being without your phone for a week, tripping on your own feet, being at the mercy of seven of your most shit-starting friends, fumbling your words, or not getting along with the other contestants. But instead, all you could think about was him.

Not the cameras. Not the chaos. Not the loudness of it all. Not Milli and Cinna, who are currently sitting next to you as Cinna speculated who the fuck ordered the golden straw. Just George, standing a few feet away from you, looking completely unbothered. As if nothing happened. As if the two of you didn't just ruin your friendship two nights ago.

It happened after a year of skirting the line: hundreds of inside jokes layered with meanings, countless one-on-one moments that felt far too intimate for 'just friends', lingering glances you hoped no one noticed, and endless excuses to be near each other. Friends constantly asked "will they or won't they?" as they did whatever they could to set something up, push something to happen. Meanwhile, your fans created millions of edits, insisting that it had been secretly happening all along.

But beyond all your friends' efforts and fan speculation, nothing ever happened.

Until two nights ago, alone in his empty flat.

Both of you gave each other the heads up that for the next week, you wouldn't be able to talk due to 'important family trips'—a lie, of course, to cover up being on the show. A week wasn't long, sure, but for you two—seven days felt forever. You hadn't gone more than a single day without at least texting since you met during the Sidemen Talent Show. His roommates were out on the town, and while you were both invited, you opted to spend the night alone—just the two of you. At some point, the shitty television show playing in the background became nothing but noise—forgotten between the shared laughter and stolen glances that lingered longer than they should've. Soon, the silence felt loaded. With one too many glasses of wine, your guard dropped...but it was the way George looked at you, almost as if he was trying not to. You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but he was soon hovering over you. You could feel the warmth of his breath and see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he knew it was a bad idea but wanted it anyway. His hand brushed your jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You whispered, "We shouldn't." But you wanted nothing more. "What are we doing?" George mumbled, his eyes now locked on your lips. His voice was low and a little slurred, and for a while, none of you moved. Until you leaned up, and his lips were on yours. The kiss, though soft, was hungry and aching. Like a secret finally breaking free, like a weight being lifted off both your backs. His mouth moved against yours with a year’s worth of restraint unraveling all at once—desperate, tender, and a little clumsy from the wine, but so, so real. Each kiss tasted like everything you’d never let yourself say sober.

"Can the contestants please make their way to the challenge room?" Tobi's voice blasted from the speakers, accompanied by the screen flashing the same message in bold white letters.

Cinna and Milli stood up from beside you, prying themselves off the beanbags you'd all practically melted into. You let out a playful groan, dropping your head back. “I don’t want to go. I know they’re going to be evil,” you whined, making both girls chuckle.

Taking Milli’s outstretched hand, you let her pull you to your feet. As the others started making their way toward the challenge room, you caught George’s gaze lingering on you out of the corner of your eye. He stayed back, letting everyone else pass.

He disguised it as adjusting something on his microphone pack, which only made your chest ache. Him waiting for you wasn’t odd—no one would’ve questioned it. Everyone already knew you two were close before the show. Mandi had even declared the moment you walked in that it was unfair both of you were here, claiming you were “definitely dating,” which would make "doing nothing together too easy." Her theory, of course, was backed by the dozens of TikTok edits she and Milli had watched of you and George together.

You both denied it—laughing it off with an ease that had been practically rehearsed for months. But you silently prayed none of them noticed the flush in your cheeks, the redness in George’s ears, or the way your eyes kept finding each other across the room.

As Cinna and Milli moved ahead, their laughter blending into the buzz of the rest of the group, you hung back. For a second, it felt like it used to—just the two of you; normal, almost. You had to physically restrain yourself from throwing your arms around him and telling him how happy you were that he was here. He licked his lips, and you had to force yourself not to remember how they felt on yours.

"Hey," He said, soft enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed. "Hey."

The silence that followed stretched between you like a tightrope. One wrong word—one mention of that night—and it would snap, sending you both tumbling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to the ground and then back up at you. You noticed how they paused, just briefly, at your lips. "So, uh...how are you finding things so far?"

The conversation already felt...so small. Meaningless.

You forced a smile. "Fine, you?"

He nodded slowly at your words, sheepishly even. "Yeah...just...you know," he shrugged, "ready for the lads to fuck with us." He put on a stupid accent, one that he knows always make you chuckle. And it almost did. Almost.

Silence filled the space again, thick and charged. You stared at each other a little too long, both of you trying to refrain from subconsciously moving closer to each other, as you always have done. George shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say next.

His voice dropped down to an even quieter whisper so that no one could hear (as if he didn't have a microphone pack strapped to his chest). "You left before I could wake up. I'm not sure if you wanted to talk about it...or if we can...but I think we definitely should."

You hesitated. Too many words fought to reach your tongue, none of them right. Not here. Not now.

"Yeah, uh, I don't know..." you mumbled, "but we definitely should." Your eyes darted around. Everyone else was already in the challenge room, just two studio managers still tidying up the set.

He nodded again, too quickly this time. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just, I wanted to let you know that I don't want it to be-"

"Oi! Lovebirds!" JJ poked his head from the challenge room and into the hallway, "Get your asses in here right now! We're waiting on you two!"

George let out a low breath and let out a quick smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess that's our cue." He held out his hand for you to take.

You stared at his outstretched hand, your heart thudding in your chest.

For a split second, and against your better judgement, you almost reached for it—almost letting muscle memory win. But instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a small step forward, slipping past him to join the others without another word.

Not a rejection. Not quite. Just...space.

His hand hovered mid-air for a moment longer before dropping back to his side. He didn't say anything, just followed behind you—his eyes trained on the ground.

When you stepped into the challenge room and saw JJ, Simon, and Tobi—JJ in mid-rant about how he was this close to starting without you, you smiled.

Familiar faces. Some sort of normalcy. Even under the far too bright lights, you could pretend that nothing actually happened; that you weren't spiraling and panicking underneath your cool exterior; that George's closeness doesn't mean anything more than usual.

You mumbled an apology as you took your spot next to Milli and Dylan, trying to keep your expression neutral. Out of the corner of your eye, George slid into his place across the room.

Your eyes met once—just once. A flicker. A slient later.

But for now, the cameras were rolling, the game was beginning. And you can't let Tobi, Simon, or JJ have an idea that something was weird between you two. Then you'd never hear the end of it.

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

"The challenge is Insider Dating," Simon began, clapping his hands together. "You'll each be given two questions that you must answer to our satisfaction. Think of it as a chance to really get to know your fellow Insiders!"

The group let out a chorus of exaggerated awwws, leaning into the bit for the cameras.

"But," Simon added with a mischievous grin, "there will be distractions. You can opt out… but it’ll cost ten grand from the prize money.”

A collective gasp echoed through the room—playful, dramatic.

Tobi jumped in. “We’ve already paired you up. We’ll call your names. When it’s your turn, sit at the table, open the menu, and read what you see.”

As stage managers did a final sweep, double-checking mics and cues, everyone began speculating about what the distractions might be.

“I think we got this,” Dylan assured you, resting his hand on your bouncing knee. “Don’t worry.”

Milli grinned. “Remember, you’re a bad bitch!�� You laughed, grateful, until something across the room caught your eye.

Mya leaned in toward George, who seemed to be explaining the rules again. Her hand rested lightly on his bicep, a sly smile on her lips. Your stomach twisted. She was gorgeous. And George? Maybe he’d like her more.

It shouldn’t matter. You and George were just friends who’d… hooked up. No claims. Still, the way she tilted her head toward him, the way he let her—it made your chest feel tight.

You looked away quickly, turning back to Milli. “As long as it’s not snakes, I’m happy.”

Finally, the challenge began.

First up: PK and Cinna—rats crawling over them.

Since entering, Cinna was the person you trusted most. She seemed genuine; serious about the challenge, lovely, and just overall kind. PK, on the other hand, terrified you—loud, outrageous, unpredictable. You worried he’d spend more than he’d earn.

Still, you had to give them credit. They both endured the rats. Neither tapped out.

You looked up—George was watching you. But as your eyes met, he quickly looked away.

Next came Farah and Jason. Though Farah had been rowdy so far, you admired how kind she truly was. When Jason panicked about the nail near his ear, she comforted him, hyping him up.

“This is so fucked up!” Jason screamed, sending the room into laughter. Except George. He had his own bit ready.

“It’s gonna get more fucked up!” he said, slipping into that same ridiculous accent he always used to make you laugh. Everyone cracked up—but you knew that joke was targeted particularly for you. It became clear when George's eyes looked over to see if you were laughing.

His eye contact made you feel small. You sank a little into your seat, hands beginning to fidget.

“Hey,” Dylan whispered, taking off one of his rings. “Here. Fidget with this, if it helps.” You smiled gratefully, twiddling the ring between your fingers.

Dylan and Mandi were up next—"a kiss from a chicken" as their distraction. Dylan admitted what he’d do if he could be invisible; Mandi revealed her first kiss.

“This is our only group of three—a threesome, if you will,” JJ announced with a smirk. “Milli, Mya, and Whitney—please take your seats.”

Shit. That meant you were left with George.

You were pretty sure the realization showed on your face, especially when JJ and Simon winked at you. Tobi’s lack of reaction was more concerning—did he realise something?

“You got this, Milli.” You gave her a smile as she stood.

Creepy spiders crawled across their heads as they answered: Milli’s most embarrassing date story, the most famous person in Mya’s DMs… and then Whitney tapped out. Another $10K lost. Fuck.

Now it was your turn.

Tobi called out yours and George’s names. JJ led the group into a chorus of exaggerated “Ooooohs.”

You forced a laugh, heart pounding as you stood. George met you halfway, giving your hand a quick squeeze. You hadn’t realized how visibly nervous you were—but he had.

Still, he looked away quickly. His expression unreadable.

“Go on, loverbirds!” Jason heckled. The group erupted in laughter. George flipped him off, and you forced a laugh.

You sat across from each other, and today, the table felt too small. George slid his foot between yours—a subtle touch to ground you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

As always, JJ made another joke at your two's expense “This isn’t your first date, so you know what to do.” You rolled your eyes and flipped him off again, earning some more laughter.

"Please open the menus." Simon instructed.

You flipped it open.

SHOCKING QUESTIONS.

“Ladies first,” JJ said, smirking. “So George, you're up.” George nodded in resignation as a technician locked you both into the shock devices.

You look at the questions listed on your menu. "What is your worst online dating experience?"

You’d heard this one before. But instead of listening, your eyes tracked the way he flinched—eyebrows furrowing in pain. Your hand instinctively reached for his, ignoring the group’s collective aww. You squeezed it, silently telling him to hang on. He squeezed back.

“Was that satisfactory?” George muttered, wincing.

Tobi, Simon, and JJ nodded. "Please ask the next question."

Really? You turned to look at the three hosts, who all had a mischievous look in their eye. These bastards.

"Snog, marry, and avoid three Insiders." He's going to say Mya.

George hesitated. "Do I really have to answer this?"

“You can tap out,” JJ taunted, “but we all know what your going to say anyway."

“Can it be any gender?” George asked, trying to stall. A shock hit. He grimaced, then gave in.

“Snog Cinna. Marry you. Avoid Farah.” He turned to Farah. “Sorry—you’re quite loud.”

“Fair,” she shrugged. She had admitted that was her red flag.

Tobi clapped. "Good job, George. It's now your turn to ask the questions."

"Which Insider do you currently trust the least?" George asked hesitantly, his hand now enveloping yours even before the shocks started.

The jolt shot through you. You yelped.

“This is unfair—I've just met them!” you protested. Another shock hit. You squeezed George’s hand tighter.

“You can always back out,” Simon teased, shuffling the cards.

But ten thousand...

Cinna came to your rescue. "It's okay! We won't be offended, right guys?" She got everyone to agree.

“Okay, really, no offense, but—either Whitney or Mandi!” They immediately jumped up, demanding to know why.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded. “It’s obvious one of you got the golden straw, and your denial makes me not trust you. Just admit it—it’s teamwork, so there's no point in being mad. ’Just be honest.” You were rambling, rushing to defuse the tension. “Also—the prices are literally extortionate! Who the fuck charges that much for a straw?” you added.

As the group laughed at your extra comment, the Sidemen motioned that the answer was satisfactory.

“George, just—please ask the next question,” you blurted, voice getting higher as you try and ignore the pain.

He looked down, face flushing red.

“Really?” he asked the Sidemen. They nodded. He berudgingly asked the next question; “Which Insider of the opposite sex would you… uh… be willing to share a bed with?”

“Agh—literally fuck off!” you yelled, jolted by the next shock.

You could answer honestly. Or safely. But the pain—and your instinct—won.

"George." You didn't dare look him in the eye, instead staring at the ceiling. You didn't see George's gaze fixating on the menu, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"Why?" JJ prodded.

“That’s not part of the question!” George defended for you.

“Uh uh,” Simon tutted. “We decide when the answer’s complete.”

Tobi stayed silent. And that’s when you were sure—he realised something was up.

You didn’t care anymore. “I’ve fallen asleep in planes with him, and on his couch plenty of times.” Even before two nights ago, you've stayed the night countless of times; mostly on his sofa, whether that is side by side on the chaise lounge or on his shoulder.

The Sidemen finally nodded. Accepted.

With the challenge over, the hosts announced how much prize money had been lost. Everyone began to file out—some toward the shop, others back to the living room.

George lingered by the door, waiting for you who stayed behind to playfully punch JJ in the shoulder.

“Hey, can we get you in Room 19 for a confessional?” a producer asked, pulling you aside. “Tobi wants to speak with you too.”

He knew.

You turned to George, his eyes locked on yours. Sorry, you mouthed. Later.

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

Room 19 was too bright and too quiet .

Tobi was already inside, lounging on the sofa like he hadn’t just summoned you in. He’d asked the camera crew to give you two a minute.

You slid into the sofa beside him, hiding your face in the back of the sofa. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be told off?"

He didn’t answer—just looked at you, like he was waiting for you to crack.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Something happened."

You shook your head too quickly, too defensively.

Tobi, of all people, wasn’t going to buy that. He knew. He knew. Ever since the YouTuber Pub Quiz—when he’d finally gotten fed up with watching you and George make heart eyes for three hours while being far too close to him. He heard firsthand George calling you snookums and had to physically pull George closer to him in order to protect their answers, especially after George kept gravitating towards you. When Tobi pulled you aside that night, he managed to get you to confirm it, drunk and giggly (fuelled by the alcohol from the night, and the shots you did with George), slurring out your not-so-little crush.

Maybe this was your sign to stop drinking.

“Don’t even deny it,” he said. “You and Mr. Architect aren’t acting like your usual lovesick selves.”

You rolled your eyes, scowling. “Fine. But you can’t tell any of the boys.”

Tobi mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key. You sighed.

“We slept together.”

His jaw dropped. “And?”

“And… nothing. We haven’t talked about it.” You could see the panic spiral forming in his head. “We were both drunk, and it was two nights before filming. We didn’t know we’d be here together. I kind of… left before he woke up.”

Tobi groaned. “You idiot. You didn’t want it to be awkward, so you made it more awkward.”

“I panicked!”

“For what it’s worth,” he muttered, “that poor sucker looks even more in love with you than before.”

“Tobi, we haven’t even made eye contact.”

“He looked wrecked when you were hurting earlier. That wasn’t acting. And trust me—Clarkey can't act for shit. Trust me, I've seen it."

You snorted. He wasn’t wrong.

There was a long pause. You didn’t say anything more. Not yet.

“They’re gonna call you for a confessional soon,” he said gently. “You good?” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess of George. "If you ever need a break, just ask them to go to the smoker's area. And, if you ever need to talk to me, just say so. We can hear everything."

You gave him a grateful smile, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him.

The crew came back in, cameras rolling.

You straightened your shoulders, just enough to fake composure. Although the world as you know it felt shook to its core, you had to pretend it was all fine.

Giving the producer a small nod, you convinced yourself you could do this. You'd done harder things. You just should not mention George, as much as you want to.

Maybe being away from your phone is harder than you thought. You wished you could text your roommate for her advice, although you could already guess what they were. Maybe you just needed the comfort. Maybe you just need George.

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

The end of the day came around faster than you expected.

With two new faces—Patrice (or “Uncle”, as he insisted) and DDG—the group loosened up again, especially after that tense challenge. Chaos resumed not long after, as people either tried to sneakily snag meal upgrades or tried to stomach the quite...unpleasant dinner prepared.

You wanted to keep track of who was doing what, to have a better idea of who to trust. But George was already on top of it. And right now, you couldn’t trust yourself around George, let alone what you might say if you were alone with him.

So you stuck close to who you could trust so far; Milli, Dylan, Jason,a and Cinna. Luckily, DDG managed to wrangle everyone into a budgeting talk—half serious, half banter—and you nodded along, grateful for the distraction.

Across the room, George finally stopped circling the space, his self-appointed half-joking job of policing the 'ruffians' (his words, not yours) done for the evening. But his gaze kept drifting. Back to you.

His eyes were pleading.

You could tell he wanted to talk. Needed to talk. About that night.

And you knew you should.

And part of you really, really wanted to.

But you were scared.

With a week still ahead of you—and cameras in every corner—this wasn’t the time.

Not quite yet.

Not quite here.

So you laughed a little louder with Dylan, leaned a little closer to Milli, and pulled Cinna deeper into the conversation.

Maybe you could avoid him for seven more days.

Maybe by then, you’d know what to say.

Maybe, in the real world, without all these cameras, this would feel less messy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @rubyskies

[aleskie]

SINCERELY, YOURS (ft. Max Verstappen)

SUMMARY: You come home to a heartwarming mess of papers, ink, and (worst of all) glitter. But the letters you get from it are worth the small headache.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: full on domestic fluff with mr. max!!

“I’m home!” you call out, balancing bags of groceries as you shut the door behind you.

“Mama, you’re back!” A small voice chimes in, followed by the quick patter of footsteps on the hardwood floor. It’s your son, Felix Verstappen, all smiles and undeniably far from the clean state you left him in an hour ago.

Setting the groceries down, you crouch to give him a hug. “My baby, did you miss me?” you ask, your tone sweet and playful.

He nods earnestly. “You were gone forever.”

“Mhm.” You take his little hands in yours, instantly noting the sticky sensation of what you suspect is glue. A closer look reveals the true extent of his artistry: while his face is mercifully clean, his clothes are a canvas of marker streaks and, to your dismay, glitter—the absolute bane of your existence.

Before you can say anything, another set of footsteps enters the foyer.

“Oh, schatz, you’re home,” Max, your husband, greets you with a warm smile. He leans in for a quick kiss before swooping down to grab the groceries. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, hun.” You return his smile, but your gaze lingers on him for a moment. That’s when you notice it: various shades of marker ink smudged across his forearms and—yep, more glitter dusted across his shirt.

Turning back to your son, you scoop him up effortlessly, earning a delighted giggle. Getting picked up is his absolute favorite thing these days.

“Fox,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want to tell me why you and Daddy are such a mess?”

He turns his head toward the living room, his grin stretching even wider. “It’s a surprise!”

“Really?” you reply, raising a brow as curiosity creeps in. Balancing him on your hip, you make your way to the living room. “And who is this surprise for—”

Your words falter mid-sentence as your eyes land on the scene before you. The living room is a battlefield of creativity and chaos. Markers are scattered across the floor, joined by an explosion of colored paper and scraps. Felix’s prized sticker collection decorates every available flat surface—the coffee table, the windowsill, even the TV remote. Glitter sparkles from the cushions, as though the couch itself had decided to join in the festivities. And to your utter horror, you spy bold streaks of green and red marker on the arm of your beloved cream armchair.

“Okay, I promise we were going to clean up before you got home,” Max pipes up, appearing from the kitchen with a sheepish smile. In one hand he holds a half-empty jar of glitter and what looks like a glue stick in between his fingers.

You exhale, smirking as you tilt your head and raise a brow at your husband. “What a surprise, right, Maxie?”

“Well…” Max rubs the back of his neck, the universal gesture of a guilty party caught red-handed. “I admit it kind of…escalated. But look!” He gestures toward the coffee table, drawing your attention for the first time.

The scene before you is pure, endearing chaos. Scattered across the table is a vibrant collection of handmade Christmas cards, each one uniquely charming in its imperfections. Crayon-drawn Christmas trees overflow with ornaments, ranging from Santa’s sleigh to inexplicably random racecars. Snowflakes, lopsided but earnest, adorn other cards, which are further embellished with an eclectic mix of Spiderman and holiday-themed stickers. One particular card stands out—a reindeer crafted from Felix’s tiny handprint, smudged at the edges but adorable nonetheless.

And, of course, glitter. Glitter everywhere. It clings to the cards, the table, and even seems to hover in the air like festive dust motes. You think the glitter is a bit over the top, but it tugs at your heartstrings all the same.

Felix wiggles excitedly in your arms, his grin as big as the mess. “We’re making Christmas cards! For everyone!”

Your exasperation melts a little as your heart softens. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah!” he says, practically vibrating with pride. “I made one for you, too!”

“For me?” you ask, letting a smile break through as you feign surprise.

Felix nods furiously before wriggling out of your arms. He races to the table, careful not to trip over the glitter-sprinkled floor, and grabs one of the cards with sticky hands. He rushes back, holding it out for you as if it’s a treasure.

The card is a masterpiece of toddler creativity. Made with your favorite colors, it features a drawn angel perched atop a Christmas tree, both slightly lopsided but clearly crafted with care. Across the top, in Max’s slightly more legible handwriting, is the message: We love you, Mama! The glue is still tacky, and glitter flakes off onto your hands as you take it, but the love poured into it is undeniable.

You chuckle, any lingering annoyance dissolving completely in the face of their heartfelt effort. “It’s beautiful, Foxie. I absolutely love it.”

Felix claps his glue-smeared hands together in delight, his face glowing with pride.

Next to you, Max wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. His bright smile is as warm as the twinkling Christmas lights strung up around the room. “Totally worth it, right?”

You roll your eyes playfully but can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re so lucky it’s Christmas,” you tease, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Then, with mock seriousness, you ask, “Now, who haven’t you guys made cards for?”

Max chuckles and takes your hand, guiding you to the coffee table that has been transformed into a chaotic, glitter-filled crafting station. “We’ve got a list, don’t we, Felix?”

“Yes!” Felix chirps, his enthusiasm boundless.

He picks up a crumpled piece of paper from the table and hands it to you. The list is long, a mix of names from Max’s life as a driver—fellow racers, team members, and factory staff—along with Felix’s little friends and a sprawling number of family members.

You scan the list and raise an eyebrow. “This is a lot of work for just two people,” you say, smiling. “How do you want me to help?”

Felix’s face lights up, and he eagerly thrusts a jar of glitter into your hands. “Mama, you’re on glitter duty!”

You scrunch your nose, groaning in mock protest, which only sends Felix into a fit of giggles. Max grins as he reaches over to pinch your cheek. “Don’t act like you don’t want to join in on the fun,” he teases.

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes dramatically. Setting the glitter jar down with exaggerated reluctance, you roll up your sleeves. “But I swear, if I’m still finding glitter in my hair by March, I’m banning waffles from this household.”

Max gasps, feigning deep offense. “Not the waffles! You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know I would.”

The three of you settle into a whirlwind of crafting chaos. Felix chatters nonstop about his card designs, explaining every sticker and every crayon stroke in great detail. Max, always the silly goose, adds dad jokes and silly doodles to some of the cards, sneaking kisses to your cheek when Felix isn’t looking—and exaggerating them when Felix is watching, just to see him cover his eyes as he groans, “Ewww, you’re icky!”

The hours pass in a happy blur of laughter and mess. The coffee table becomes a scene of glue, glitter, and scraps of colorful paper, but the stack of cards grows, each one brimming with love and personality.

Eventually, Felix announces he’s “soooo tired” and toddles off to bed, barely making it down the hallway before Max scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way.

You’re tidying up the craft supplies, still battling the glitter that seems to have invaded every surface, mentally noting which furniture pieces might need professional help to remove the marker ink. 

As you gather stray scraps of paper, Max returns from tucking Felix into bed.

He joins you in the cleanup, and together you move around the room in a quiet rhythm, the calm of the evening settling over you both. Your hips occasionally bump into each other, and your fingers brush as you pick up stray bits of paper and reorganize the art supplies. It’s a small, unspoken dance of familiarity and comfort.

As Max turns his attention to the stack of finished cards, he pulls one out from under the pile and holds it out to you. It’s slightly neater than the others but still carries the charming imperfections of a heartfelt DIY project.

“For me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Of course,” he says with a playful smile, handing it to you. “Felix made you one, so obviously I had to show him who loved you first.”

You chuckle softly, taking the card from his hands. The front features a heart in your favorite colors, surrounded by stars and a glittery Christmas tree. In the center, there’s a simple drawing of two stick figures, unmistakably you and Max, hand in hand.

Inside, a short message in Max’s handwriting reads:

Merry Christmas! Thank you for all these years together—for loving me and making me a husband and a father. Here’s to more years and even more happiness. I love you.

Your chest fills with warmth as you look up at him, your eyes softening. “It’s perfect,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re so perfect.”

He grins against your lips, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

Pulling back, you reach over to the side table and open a drawer. “I made something for you, too,” you say, pulling out a slightly uneven card.

Max’s eyes light up with curiosity as he takes it from your hands. The front features a hand-drawn racetrack looping around a tiny Christmas tree, with festive doodles scattered across the background and the iconic RedBull car zooming on the track..

Inside, you’ve written:

To my heart, my rock, my joy—my Maxie. Thank you for being everything I never knew I needed. You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. I love you to the moon and back.

Max reads it slowly, his expression softening as he finishes. He looks at you, a mixture of love and gratitude in his eyes. “I love it,” he says, his voice quieter now. “And I love you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, your hands entwined on the table amidst the glitter and glue. The mess of the evening fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth and love filling the room.

“Merry Christmas, schatz,” Max whispers, his voice low and tender.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as the glow of the Christmas tree bathes the room in a gentle light. For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist. It’s just the two of you, standing together in the quiet magic of the season.

And in that peaceful, glitter-dusted silence, you know this is what the season—and your life together—is all about.