#chapter 2.2

[manga-meow]

[please-let-this-work-oh-my-god]

NO POCS IN 2.2 WE LOST

(Anjo Nala is limited btw)

THE NEW SKINS THOUGH

PV: https://youtu.be/cWFz-l5vYfY?si=UcRmfclQrq8Zp21s (MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING FOR 1.9 ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE) (skip to 2:23 to NOT get spoiled)

[marieisnothere12]

bootyhill

Y’all boothill saying fudge instead of fuck is so funny but it also feels right like smth abt it makes sense (ik hoyo cant make them curse tho)

HE ALSO SAYS FORK ME INSTEAD OF FUCK ME ITS KINDA CUTE 😭😭😭

HE SAID SHIRTBAG

[kittycornercomic]

CHAPTER 2- page 2

[oldxport]

𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑖. 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖. (𝑑𝑖𝑠)𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

[tw: references to religion, christianity]

Nothing  is  truly  archived  in  its  pristine,  maiden  state  —  photos  age,  digital  files  corrupt,  and  atom  links  corrode  one  by  one.  Painstakingly  crafted  monuments  oxidize,  the  Great  Pyramids  crumble  by  the  second,  and  the  stars  go  out. —  The  constant  of  life  is  the  beating  shore,  the  waves.  Movement,  change.  Erosion  chases    heels  like  a  mad  dog.

Even  the  mind  is  subjected.

Memory  is  the  basis  of  evolution.  How  can  one  prepare  for  a  future  if  one  does  not  remember  past  paths,  leading  to  pitfalls?  The  information  must  be  stored  to  be  retrieved  and  safely  kept  to  progress.  Hail,  progress.  The  human  brain  is  marvelous  for  processing  data  through  the  senses  and  parsing  time-space-now-then-will.

The  permanence  of  anamnesis  relies  on  factors  that  are  opposingly  conscious  yet  automatic.  Current  scientific  theories  propose  two  leading  families  of  individual  human  recollection:  the  declarative,  explicit  memory  and  the  non-declarative,  implicit  memory.  The  explicit  centers  on  the  “self,”  it  is  autobiographical,  semantic,  and  episodic,  the  epitome  of  what  humankind  thinks  memory  is.

They  merely  see  the  surface  and  guess  the  depths.

The  implicit  are  those  without  focused  consciousness,  background  tasks  in  procedural  memories,  and  subliminal  stimuli  in  priming.  The  human  mind  is  fascinatingly  efficient  and  set  on  learning.  Intake,  inhale,  install…  However,  reminiscence  is  not  a  science.  It  is  an  evocation  of  the  heart,  and  it  is  damn  awful  at  it.

To  light  the  synapse,  a  capricious  impact  has  to  stir  the  heart.  Humans  are  no  longer  concentrating  creatures  on  their  own  accord.  Intensity,  disbelief,  or  abnormality  of  circumstances  is  vital  to  categorize  memory  as  a  “notable  incident”  and  prevent  it  from  falling  through  the  cerebral  grates  and  being  discarded  as  peripheral  tedium.

The  other  way  to  preserve  time  is  to  conduct  it  as  a  ritual.  Opposite  of  the  singular  moment,  the  ritual  is  a  compilation.  By  diminishing  the  individual  days,  it  proposes  a  trade-off  to  stabilize  and  further  a  construct,  a  pattern  of  action  that  organizes  time  with  space.  It  is  mismatched  socks  worn  together  as  a  distinct  statement,  no  accident.  The  repetition  fights  off  modern  cynicism’s  iconoclastic  war  drum.

The  last  way  to  keep  recollection  is  through  auto-annihilation.  To  scar  the  inside  of  the  mind  so  thoroughly,  the  brain  cannot  overwrite  the  data.  Touch  upon  it  repeatedly;  the  echoing  sting  disembodied  of  the  time  of  the  strike.

Yet,  despite  all  of  the  methods  to  keep  vigilance  of  memory,  the  first  statement  holds.  The  lens  of  retrospection  is  smudged;  what  is  necessary  for  the  ability  to  remember  is  intrinsically  flawed  by  natural  design.  To  call  upon  memory  is  a  return  to  bear  witness  to  a  crime  scene,  and  in  its  autopsy,  the  testimony  is  never  black  and  white.  It  is  the  sentiment  branded  on  top,  warped  and  curling.

What  is  said  is  what  is  thought  to  have  been  said. REMEMBER THIS.

The  past  is  a  burn  that  lingers  but  weakens  as  the  mind  digs  through  its  kindling.  By  order  of  this  world,  memory  is  no  different  than  a  star  lightyears  away,  its  beam  dimming.  It  is  meant  to  fade.

It’s  more  than  alright  to  bask  in  the  glowing  embers  of  a  dying  planet.

Therefore,  there  is  no  reason  to  fear  un-memory.  It  is  part  of  the  forgetfulness  curve.  The  waves.  In  every  crest,  there  is  a  trough.  A  soar  ends  with  a  land.  Why  look  for  a  map  for  a  place  you  do  not  know  anymore?

A  day  lost  a  week  gone,  are  not  causes  for  alarm.  Recall  last  Tuesday  at  7:23  A.M.  Asleep,  maybe.   A  “normal”  day  is  liquid  glugging  into  the  drain.

A  man  closes  the  faucet  and  helps  himself  to  a  cup  of  water.  It  is  partly icy.  The  pipes  are  directly  pumped  from  a  frigid  spring  in  the  ███████  Mountains.  He  hopes  to  rediscover  it  again  tomorrow,  along  with  his  name.

It  is  OLD SPORT.

He  is  uncomplex  like  a  line,  that  one.  Point  A  to  B,  straight.  At  the  end  of  their  ride,  he  tells  Mr. Kato  that  he  had  no  idea  what  they  talked  about  but  wishes  the  befuddled  captain  a  good  day.  Arrives  on  the  premises,  books  a  photography  appointment  when  he’s  told  about  the  temporary  keycard  and  spreads  out  his  arms,  a  wingspan  similar  to  that  of  a  large  Pandion  or  a  smaller  Aquila,  when  security  pats  down  his  charcoal  blue  but  otherwise  nondescript  two-piece  suit.

He  enters  the  second  floor.  The  timing  couldn’t  be  more  appropriate  since  this  is  the  first  time  Old  Sport  is  not  the  first  operative  on  the  scene.  He  is  second,  the  numbering  graphically  explicit,  as  he  is  greeted  by  a  man’s  figure  at  the  end  of  the  hallway.  The  vow  Old  Sport  made  a  long  time  ago  somehow  pierces  through  the  fog’s  veil  and  shines  brighter  than  the  fluorescent  lights  overhead.  As  asked  by  the  Foundation,  he  will  devote  himself  to  it.  It’s  the  sense  of  duty,  an  ingrained  reflex  responding  to  the  new  task.

Or  is  it  the  man  behind  the  glass,  a  familiar  stranger,  who  sparked  the  guiding  beacon?  Summoned  that  lost  purpose?

If  it  was  indeed  lost.

With  or  without  amnestics,  the  mind  is  conditioned  to  adapt  to  the  unknown  or  press  on  while  in  denial.  Both  march  forward,  boots  thumping  untrodden  ground.  A  fool  smiles,  walking  into  a  place  he  does  not  know,  and  reaches  out.

Operative  —  correction:  Commander  Tiul-Xol’s  handshake  is  double-handed.  Old  Sport’s  hand  is  clasped  on  each  side, embraced.  The  Commander’s  hello  is  warm,  raining  years  of  comradery  on  the  former  agent.  Old  Sport  notices  the  disparity;  his  twenty  and  even  so  years  of  experience  is  not  up  to  par  with  this  man,  who  has  shared  bread  and  shed  blood  for  his  compatriots,  saving  the  world  from  ending  over  and  over. A fraternized secret pact to go into the dark together. How apropos that it  is  together  how  constellations  chart  the  night  sky.  Together,  together.  —  The  tender  first  fruit  who’d  break  his  own  heart  and  let  others  feast  on  its  fragments. OH, YOU ARE NOTHING.

… 

Even  a  ‘hi’  or  a  ‘good  morning’  would  do,  but  this  is  to  be  expected.

A  simple  salutation  struggles  to  form.  Like  a  dumb  little  newbie,  Old  Sport  opens  and  then  closes  his  lips.  There  is  overthinking  on  the  length  of  a  “hi,”  or  if  “hey”  is  too  casual  for  an  official  first-time  shared  assignment,  or  if  a  “Hello,  Sir,”  would  be  dismissively  professional  of  the  various  times  he  and  the  other  man  have  cursorily  orbited  one  another.  All  the  while,  the  Commander  blinks  at  him,  every  dark  batting  lash  sweeping  up  something  torrid  within  Old  Sport  than  the  tranquil  knowledge  that  the  Foundation  might  have  had  a  deliberate  hand  in  macerating  his  past.

He’s  buckling,  god,  the  crook  of  his  spine,  all  but  kowtowing.

That  is  what  happens  to  those  who  creep out  of  the  underground.  They  cannot  bear  the  light  head-on.  He’s  punched  his  ticket  into  the  Sublime,  and  the  clarity  of  his  ineptness  burns  him  up  under  its  magnifying  scope.

Thankfully,  the  Commander  laughs  and  claps  his  hands  around  Old  Sport’s.

“ It’s  good  to  see  you.  I���m  glad  the  Committee  took  my  recommendation  into  account. ”

“ Thank  you. ”

And  then  the  interaction  is  over.  Old  Sport  sits  down,  choosing  the  chair  close  to  the  door.  His  eyes,  which  have  never  strayed  from  his  clasped  hands  on  his  lap,  slowly  trace  the  curved  contour  of  the  table.  The  stare  stops  on  a  pair  of  worn  combat  boots,  no  polished  dress  shoes.

Their  owner’s  face  is  creased,  loose  with  tiredness,  and  open,  vulnerable  like  a  split  pomegranate.  Old  Sport  doesn’t  know  if  he’s  authorized  to  be  a  witness.  A  yawn  scrunches  the  center  of  the  Commander’s  face,  prominent  on  his  heavy  brows  and  strong-bridged  nose.  He  wipes  at  his  eyes,  and  as  Old  Sport  begins  to  rise  to  action,  the  Commander  waves  it  off.

But  no,  that  won’t  do.  Old  Sport  searches  the  inner  pocket  of  his  suit  jacket,  preparing  a  remedy  in  advance  as  always.  It’s  to  be  another  score  on  his  perfect  record;  he  digs  through  the  void  and  discovers  nothing  there.  He  has  forgotten  his  handkerchief.  The  chill  from  the  water,  now  swirling  inside  him,  permeates  throughout  his  system  at  this  small  but  surprisingly  heavy  failure.

Do  not  fear  un-memory.  Surf  on  the  forgetfulness  curve.  Shoot  the  tube.

Someone  else  enters  before  he  can  request  his  leave  to  fetch  the  Commander  a  tissue.  Therefore,  Old  Sport  stays  put  and  assembles  his  belongings  from  his  briefcase.  It  is  one  thing  to  watch  a  man  be  unguarded,  another  to  signal  others  to  look.  While  Old  Sport  cannot  help  the  man,  he  can  at  least  sanctify  the  Commander’s  authority.  The  room  fills  up.  Old  Sport’s  thoughts  wander  to  the  First  Disciple.

It  is  not  Peter.  It  is  Andrew.

Befitting.  Nobody  remembers  Andrew.

It  doesn’t  take  very  long  for  introductions  to  go  around  the  table.  Throughout  it  all,  Old  Sport  barely  stirs.  He  smiles  through  it,  raising  a  brow  at  Dying  Breed’s  self-appointed  break,  but  overall,  it  has  been  an  illuminating  experience.  The  Decommissioning  Department  and  MTF  Iota-10  have  never  held  formal  team  introductions.  A  matter  of  size,  schedule,  and  if  the  rumors  were  correct,  egos  made  this  an  impossible  undertaking  by  the  Fire  Suppression  Department.  This  is  Old  Sport’s  first  time,  and  finally,  his  chance  arrives.  Old  Sport  grins,  stands  up,  and  bows  as  the  focus  swings  to  him  at  the  end  of  the  table.

“ Hello  and  good  morning,  everyone.  Regardless  of  whether  or  not  this  is  the  first  time  we  are  meeting,  I  would  request  that  you  all  please  refer  to  me  by  the  appointed  codename-slash-callsign,  'Old  Sport,'  as  it  is  one  of  the  precepts  of  Chi-Zero-Zero. ”  He  says,  righting  himself  back  up.

“ As  everyone  else  has  shared  some  personal  information  and  or  humorous  anecdotes,  I  will  also  release  useful  background  facts  about  myself.  I  have  been  with  the  Foundation  for  twenty-four  years.  Previously,  I  was  a  member  of  the  Decommissioning  Department,  as  well  as  the  Mobile  Task  Force,  Iota-10,  known  as  the  ‘Damn  Feds,’  officially  and  unofficially. ”  Old  Sport  figures  disclosing  his  experience  would  be  helpful  to  the  junior  members  of  Themis.  Now,  the  mind  whirrs  for  the  next  move.

“ I  have  a  multitude  of  hobbies  and  like  various  things.  Additionally,  I  have  very  few  dislikes.  I  look  forward  to  working  with  everyone  until  the  very  end  of  this  assignment  or  until  reassignments.  Thank  you. ”

He  sits  down,  pleased  to  have  hit  all  the  notes  he  practiced  in  the  shower.  As  he  is  the  closing  act,  Old  Sport  decides  to  utilize  the  chaos  of  a  post-meeting  exit  rush  to  speak  with  the  Commander.  In  some  parts,  it  is  to  repent  the  previous,  unsubstantiated  “mission  failure.”  In  others…  esoterica,  meaningless  to  everyone.  Rather  than  calling  the  Commander  over,  Old  Sport  spots  his  window  of  opportunity,  gleaming  and  wiped  clean,  and  moves.  Forward,  forward.

Catching  Smooth  Operator’s  attention,  Old  Sport  slides  his  arm  frontward  to  initiate  a  handshake  —  snatching  the  other  man  with  a  two-handed  clap.  It  is  a  mirror  of  the  past,  a  reflection  of  Smooth  Operator’s  candid  warmth.

Imitation,  flattery.  Prayer.

Albeit  enveloping  the  Commander’s  hands  with  longer  digits,  Old  Sport  swings  their  hands  up  and  down,  body  saying  what  he  couldn’t  before.  Hello,  hello.  He  won’t  waste  his  time  now.  “ Commander,  it  has  been  nice  to  see  you  again.  It’s  been  two  years,  eight  months,  and  to  my  knowledge,  three  days, ”  Old  Sport  muses  and  tilts  his  head.  Pauses.  Tests  out  the  words  sans  shower.  “ It is an honor  to have been selected. I will be  dedicated  to  serving  you,  on  and  off  the  field. ”

Old Sport  leans  forward,  stamping a  grave  promise in the air  between  their  intertwined  limbs. Each word is pressed in like a personal cinnabarite seal.  “ Upholding  the  parameters  of  this  assignment  is  my  highest  priority.  Therefore... However,  whenever  you  need,  my  body  is  yours  to  command. ” 

He’s  felt  this  way  for  every  job  given  to  him  by  the  Foundation.  The  corporeal  is  nothing  without  purpose.  If  his  back  breaks,  it’ll  be  with  pride  at  fulfilling  something  grander  than  a  single  skeletal  remnant.

“ I  do  not  know  if  you  have  accessed  my  personnel  files  yet,  Commander,  but  I  will  strive  for  nothing  but  success  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  will  fill  any  position  you  require  of  me  without  complaint.  I  have  been  told  I  am  quote,  ‘accommodatingly  versatile,’  and,  ‘surprisingly  flexible,’  end  quote. ” 

As  he  is  saying  them,  no  boastful  flourish  curlicues  the  para-phrases.  Such  comments  never  particularly  mattered  to  Old  Sport.  However,  to  recompense  the  earlier  mistake,  he’ll  assure  Smooth  Operator  that  it  was  a  fluke; he has  verifiable testimonials.

Old  Sport  smiles  and  leans  in  again,  unaware  of  the  lack  of  privacy  in  a  crowded  conference  room.  He  closes  with,  “ I  fondly  anticipate  working  out  the  details  of  this  arrangement  after  introductions  and  the  facility  tour.  I’d  like  your  pager  number  to  find  a  suitable  time  and  place. ”  There  is  a  soft  squeeze  between  their  hands  after  one  last  downswing.

Finally,  the  lattice  breaks.  Old  Sport  concludes  with  a  nod  and  returns  to  his  spot.  He  picks  up  his  briefcase.  As  asked  by  the  Foundation,  he  will  devote  himself  to  it.  It’s  the  sense  of  duty,  an  ingrained  reflex  responding  to  the  new  task.  Support  the  MTF  Commander  at  all  costs.  Forget  your  record.  It  means  nothing.  You  are  nothing.  Support  the  MTF  Commander  at  all  costs.  Nod,  if  you  understand,  In-su. The scales ...

A Valuable Employee  does  not  think  of  themselves  as  individuals  but  as  a unit  member.  The  workplace  is  family.  The  company  is  covenant.

Nobody  remembers  Andrew.

Old  Sport  nods  and  wonders  where  he  left  his  handkerchief.

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

II.ii.3 Qu’il Fallait Que La Chaîne De La Manille Eût Subi Un Certain Travail Préparatoire Pour Être Ainsi Brisée D’un Coup De Marteau

okeydokey folks. so tumblr unfortunately has an 80 character limit for poll options. as you can see this option is. not brief. so I will be breaking my usual guideline of putting translators under the cut, because I simply cannot fit the options in the poll itself Y_Y

that being said:

Wilbour: Showing That The Chain of the Iron Ring Must Needs Have Undergone A Certain Preparation To Be Thus Broken By One Blow of the Hammer

Wraxall: On Board The "Orion” (wraxallll....)

Hapgood: The Ankle-Chain Must Have Undergone A Certain Preparatory Manipulation To Be Thus Broken With A Blow From A Hammer

Beckwith: Showing that the Chain of the Bracelet Must Have Undergone Certain Preparation to be thus Broken by One Blow of the Hammer

Denny: The Broken Shackle (dennyyy....)

FMA: In Which We See That the Shackle Must Have Undergone Some Preparation To Be Broken By One Hammer Blow

Rose: How the Chain on the Shackles Must Have Undergone Preparatory Treatment to Be Shattered Like That with One Whack of the Hammer

Donougher: The Ankle-chain Must Have Been Worked On Previously, to Break at a Single Hammer Blow

[delicatemusickingdom]

Book 1 Part 1 Chapter 3.1

Chapter 3: Sword

The door opened, and a tired-looking man entered. In unison, all the people in the room turned to look at him. 

The floor creaked as he walked in and sat down on a nearby chair with a heavy thump. Jiri placed a mug on the sidetable, and he drank its contents with a single gulp.

“Damn, I’m fed up with them. Every single time I see those guys from the ‘other side of the wall’.”

There were some people who told him to spit it out, but Jiri ignored them. She just stood at the man’s side, crossing her arms and stared down at him. 

“You knew how they were going to treat you. That drink was your reward for putting up with it — you did put up with it, right, Keldon?” 

The man, Keldon, grimaced and nodded. 

“Obviously. I don’t want to take a beating from the knights just because I made some mistake.”

“So did you find out what was going on over there?”

Hanks asked as he slowly made his way forward. Keldon let out a deep sigh and spread his hands. 

“It’s construction work. It’s nothing to do with us — just construction, plain and simple.”

“Not ‘nothing to do with us’. Hasn’t the waterfall stopped flowing?” 

Another person said from the other corner of the room. At that, Keldon turned around, with annoyance on his face. 

“Those people don’t give a damn about us, okay? They don’t know that the waterfall is our only water source capable of quenching our miserable thirst. They found a water pipe in bad shape, so they decided to fix it. It just happened that it’s at the opening to our waterfall. That’s all.” 

“Well, at least that means they’re not purposely trying to make us die of thirst.” 

At Jiri’s words, Hanks nodded, but his expression was thoughtful as he spoke. 

“With that being said, we can’t just ask them to hurry up so the water can continue flowing like normal again. If they make a mistake, it can stop flowing permanently. In the end, that waterfall is the result of someone else’s oversight. We don’t have any right to claim it as ours. Then the question is, how long will the construction work take?” 

Keldon shook his head. 

“About that, old man. I don’t know if they themselves didn’t know, or they didn’t want to tell me, but basically it’s like that.” 

His report caused an uproar. 

“What?! Then how long will we have to bear with it? The water we have saved up won’t be enough. This is going to be a huge problem.” 

“You don’t even know the one thing that matters the most? Then what was the point of going all the way to the ‘other side of the wall’, Keldon?” 

“I did all I could, okay? But if I sniffed around any longer than I had, they would have gotten suspicious! Or do you think I should have informed them of our plight? Do you really think they’d do something to help us after hearing that—”

Before he knew it, Keldon had jumped up in anger, but Jiri placed a hand on his shoulder. Although it didn’t look like she was using a lot of strength, Keldon easily sank back into his chair. 

“Stop it, you all.” 

Despite not being that loud, Jiri’s voice echoed clearly throughout the room. That alone was enough — the room fell completely silent. 

“What’s the point of fighting among ourselves here? Keldon acted as our representative and investigated the situation. It would be cruel to expect any more than that.” 

“She’s right. We’ll just have to help each other. Just as we’ve always done.” 

Hanks took over from her, and continued to convince everyone.

“If we lend each other water and use it sparingly, we should be able to hold out for a few more days. If there are no signs of the construction getting done anytime soon, then we’ll take action. But until then, we’ll just have to wait and see. That’s what we’ll do for now. Is everyone okay with that?” 

“You’re right. We don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.” 

Those words were said by a plump woman with a large waistline, and everyone else murmured their agreement as well. 

****

“Yesss! We won’t need to fetch water for a while!” 

One of the boys said, his voice raised in excitement. 

“What, that tiresome job?” 

The other kids nodded. 

In a corner of the lower quarter, at one of the open spaces that served as a gathering spot for the children, Jareth and the usual bunch of kids sat together. 

It had been two days since the water from the waterfall stopped flowing. Pretty much everyone in Fountain Alley knew about it. The adults kicked the children out of the meeting room for an important discussion, but they secretly eavesdropped on it, thinking it must have been about this matter. 

Once the adults finished their discussion, they quietly left the area without being noticed and went to the open space, where they immediately began to dissect what they had seen and heard. 

Apparently the waterfall wouldn’t come back for a while. The first thing they thought was that they would be free from the hard labour. For them, the word ‘waterfall’ was almost synonymous with the ‘job of fetching water’. 

But for the kids who had a wider perspective on things, their faces were clouded with worry.  

“But what if this continues, and we run out of water?”

“Eh, once the construction is done everything will go back to normal, so we’ll be fine.” 

“But they said they didn’t know when it would be done, right?” 

“Yeah, if this continues even after the construction is done…”

“I don’t think there’s much water left in my house.” 

“……”

The excitement from earlier had disappeared, and the severity of the situation they were in began to sink in. The boys who lived in between the castle walls and the world outside fell silent. 

After long pause, one of them looked up.

“River……”

“What did you say?” 

“A river! The last time I went to the ‘other side of the wall’...... uh, the citizens’ quarter, I could see the river from there. If it’s there, we’ll be able to get plenty of water!” 

At first the boys’ expressions were filled with suspicion towards their friend’s words, but they lightened up, before quickly returning to worried ones. 

“You say you saw it from the citizens’ quarter. You mean, it was ‘outside’, right? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yeah, it’s on the other side of the barrier, right? What will we do if we’re attacked by monsters?”

“If it’s further away than the waterfall, wouldn’t that mean it would be even more tiring?” 

“If the adults found out, they’d definitely get angry.” 

Faced with the other’s opinions, the boy who had mentioned the river didn’t press the matter further and fell silent. But even though they had reflexively shot the idea down, it’s not like that would help solve their current problem. After a moment’s ruckus, the boys stopped talking, feeling awful. 

In the end, no one was able to come up with a good idea. The boys, who had deliberately heightened their own anxieties, carried those feelings with them as they dispersed. The boy who had mentioned the river also started to walk away with heavy footsteps. Just as he was about to quicken his pace to catch up with the others— 

“Hey.” 

“Hmm?”

The boy looked up. 

He didn’t know when, but the black-haired boy had appeared by his side, standing there with his arms crossed. 

“About that river’s location, could you tell me more about it?” 

His gaze facing the direction of the ‘outside’, Yuri said unsmilingly. 

****

“……Here we go.”

Yuri let out a ragged pant, somehow managing to push the bucket onto the cart by leaning his weight on it. There were already a number of similar buckets lined up on the cart.

It was the same scene as when they did the job of fetching water. The only difference was, Yuri was the only one in the cart’s vicinity. 

After loading the buckets, he quickly looked around. Alright, no one’s around. He gave a small nod to himself and walked to the front of the cart. He grabbed its handle and leaned his weight forward. 

It didn’t even budge. It was no wonder. Even an adult would have difficulty trying to move the loaded cart all on his own. For the boys, normally they would need at least five or six of them working together to get it moving somehow. 

Yuri turned to look at the row of buckets behind him. I see. I loaded in as many buckets as usual, but I guess I was being a bit too reckless. Yuri climbed onto the cart’s platform and pushed out one of the buckets. The bucket made a dull thud as it hit the ground. A second thud followed. And a third. 

In the end, only half of the buckets were left in the cart. 

How about this? Yuri returned to the front of the cart and, once again, gathered all his strength and pushed the cart forward. 

The ground stubbornly pushed back at the soles of his feet. The platform of the cart creaked slightly. Still no good? —Is what he thought, but the cart suddenly began to move slowly. It takes quite a lot of strength, but I think I can make it work somehow. 

Did I take out too many buckets? But the cart will be even heavier on the journey back. Better not get greedy. Yuri cut off his lingering regrets and decided to only look ahead.

The aim is to go ‘outside’. 

Even if the cart was a lot lighter, it was still too heavy for a child to bear alone. Yuri’s steps were laboriously slow. 

The alleyways that he ran freely about every day now felt so long. Even the bumps on the road felt like they were filled with malicious intent towards him. They were extremely difficult to get a footing on, and every time the cart passed over a bump, the sound of the wheels bothered him. 

Even though I chose a route that people don’t usually pass through, if I dawdle here for too long someone is bound to be se mee. 

There was a risk of losing control of the cart if he increased its speed, but Yuri was determined to get out of the lower quarter as soon as possible, and concentrated all of his strength in his arms. 

At that moment, someone appeared to block his path. Yuri hurriedly braced his legs to kill the momentum he had just gained. Befitting its weight, the cart was slow to come to a stop, and Yuri gritted his teeth and dug in his heels. 

After a few seconds that felt like forever, the cart came to a stop. Yuri felt relieved and angry at the same time. He’d almost run them over, or was in danger of getting run over himself. Yuri was more angry at that than the fact that he’d been discovered. Who the heck is that?

“Whoa, you came this far pulling the cart all by yourself!”

“As expected of Yuri!” 

When he looked up, he saw Jareth and the other boys looking at him. He couldn’t tell if they were impressed or amazed. 

“You guys… why are you here?”

While saying that, Yuri noticed that the boy who had told him about the river was also standing with them. They must have heard about it from him. 

The question is, why did they decide to show up? Yuri didn’t want to dwell on that too much. After all—

“Why, obviously we’re here to help out.”

There it is. 

“You say help, but I’m going ‘outside’, you know.”

“We know that, obviously.”

“You don’t need to force yourselves. It’s the ‘outside’, you know? Outside. Like Grandma Jiri and the others told us so many times, the world ‘outside’ is swarming with monsters.” 

“Yeah, of course we know that!”

Well, what now? Putting aside the fact that he also didn’t know much about the ‘outside’, Yuri thought to himself. None of them have ever gone ‘outside’ for real. At the very most, they’d only been to the edge of the barrier because an adult took them there, but that means they didn’t really know the actual scale of the danger they would be facing. 

But Yuri did hear a slight tremor in their voices as they spoke. Scary things were scary, after all. Then why?

“Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could fetch water while the adults were busy freaking out?” 

Jareth said with a grin, as if to say, You understand, right?

I see. Yuri was satisfied with that answer. To prove themselves to the adults. Was that their goal? But there must be some of them who were simply taken in by Jareth’s words, or just couldn’t refuse him. 

“That’s only if everything goes smoothly, right?”

“But you’re still going, aren’t you, Yuri?” 

That’s true, but not because I want to prove myself to the adults or anything. Inwardly, Yuri clicked his tongue. If I waste any more time here and an adult finds us, then it would all be over. 

My only goal is to get the water and go home. And it’s true that if there’s more people, I can get there quicker and collect the water faster. 

Besides, if I refuse, what will Jareth and the others do? Will they go to the adults and tattle on me? Even if not all of them did, one of them might. Well, what’s even more likely is that they’ll ignore whatever I say and follow me anyway. 

If that’s the case, then—

Yuri took a quick look at Jareth and the others. There weren’t any girls or extremely young children. Looks like Jareth took that into consideration when recruiting his comrades. 

It’s probably time to accept my fate. 

“Okay, okay, I get it. Let’s all go together.”

As he hurriedly quelled the cheers rising up, Yuri once again got the feeling he was doing something extremely reckless. 

Maybe the one who truly doesn’t understand what they’re getting into, is me.

****

Certainly, the cart was lighter to move now. They had taken the buckets that he’d left behind and put it back onto the cart. Now that there were several people pushing the cart, the cart moved easier than it had been when Yuri was pushing it alone. He was still dissatisfied with some things, but that point alone he conceded. 

But at the same time, the chances of being discovered had increased significantly. Yuri tried not to dwell on which option was better. 

As luck had it, despite a few close calls, they managed to reach the outskirts of the city without being questioned by any adults. 

Houses that were lived-in became sparse, and the number of abandoned houses gradually increased. As even the ruins started to slowly be replaced by weeds and trees, the feeling that they were getting closer to the edge of the barrier — nearing the outside of the Imperial Capital — grew stronger. Most of the roads were already half-covered in dirt. 

Beyond that, the final obstacle in their way awaited them. The fields. The outer edge of the Imperial Capital was full of patches of cultivated land and pastures. Most of the land was used to feed the people from the ‘other side of the wall’ — that is, the people inside the castle walls, however, there were plots of land that lay untouched due to reasons like lack of sunlight and water. On the other hand, there were places where the land was in good condition, but extended beyond the effective range of the barrier, pushing the limits of its safety. In any case, there were plots of land that the people from the ‘other side of the wall’ left alone, that the residents of the lower quarter used for the same purposes. 

That’s the kind of place Yuri and the others will be passing through. The fields, which have been ploughed and cultivated by the residents of Fountain Alley for generations, as their means of barely getting by. The fields that they often brought water to from the waterfall. It wasn’t harvest season, but it wouldn’t be odd to find an adult here. 

Unlike the alleyways, there was hardly anything that could obstruct one’s view. While pushing the cart, Yuri thought of the excuses he would give in the event they were caught. 

Before he could think of a good excuse, as they entered the fields, they were greeted by an unexpected person. 

“What are you doing?” 

At that familiar voice, he turned around, and like he expected, what entered his view was that familiar golden hair.

“Flynn……”

The boy he hadn’t seen since the Grey Alleyways incident ran towards him. He wasn’t wearing his usual cap, and his knees and sleeves were dirty, as if he’d been working in the soil. There were many children that were sent to tend to the fields, but Yuri was surprised to see Flynn out here. 

Flynn looked at the cart that Yuri and the others were taking turns to push, and frowned. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Yuri?” 

At that question, Jareth and the others shifted into a hostile stance. However, Yuri felt something else hidden in that question of his. What is it? It slipped away before he could pin down what it was. Yuri shrugged his shoulders. 

“Oh, you know, just going to fetch some water.” 

“Yuri!” 

The boys involuntarily raised their voices in protest, but Yuri waved a hand at them as if to shush them. 

Hearing Yuri’s words, Flynn looked behind him, in the direction the cart was headed towards — in other words, the ‘outside’. His gaze returned to Yuri, and he shook his head, looking amazed. 

“You really are a person whose thoughts I can’t fathom at all.” 

His face suddenly took on a serious countenance. 

“Mister Hanks and the others should have forbidden you all from going outside. Did you really get permission from them?” 

Flynn’s gaze shifted from Yuri to look at Jareth and the others one by one. It was as if he could see through them. Flinching from that piercing gaze, Jareth looked to the other boys for their agreement. 

“Ah, ahhh, yeah?” 

“What did they say again?” 

“It-It’s none of your business, right?” 

“They forbade it because there are monsters outside the barrier. ……Did you really talk to them?” 

Suddenly Yuri understood a part of what he had felt earlier. 

This guy… is only talking to me. 

“Of course not.” 

“Yuri!!!”

Yuri turned towards the despair-filled Jareth and the others with a fed up expression on his face. 

“What a pain. Besides, with us lying to him like that, it’s obvious we’d get exposed.” 

“……Even though there are monsters outside, you guys want to go out there alone? That’s too reckless.” 

Flynn said after a moment of thoughtful pause. Yuri couldn’t really read his expression well. 

“I know it’s reckless. If that’s all, we’re leaving. We don’t have much time. Say hello to Grandpa Hanks for us.” 

As Yuri was about to signal to Jareth and the others to get going, Flynn raised a hand to stop him. 

“……Could you wait for a bit?” 

As soon as he finished his words, Flynn turned on his heel and started running. One of the boys noticed a small shed in the direction he was headed and called out.

“Don’t tell me he’s going to tattle on…”

It’s true that there was a possibility someone was in the shed. 

Yuri stayed silent. Even if that was the case, if they tried to chase after Flynn now they wouldn’t make it in time. He was confident that he had the fastest legs out of anyone in their group, but he still felt like he wouldn’t be able to catch up with Flynn. Plus —

Right in front of everyone’s eyes, Flynn entered the shed. He didn’t come out for a while. 

“H-Hey, let’s take this chance and go.” 

One of the boys said, but Yuri ignored them and remained silent. 

Eventually, Flynn reappeared from the shed, carrying a bunch of stuff in his arms. 

With steps less steady than they were before, Flynn returned to the group and threw what he was holding onto the ground. 

“You… These are……” 

Yuri examined Flynn’s face seriously. What lay on the ground were farming tools — things like machetes, sickles, shovels and hoes.

“I think this is better than nothing.” 

Yuri grinned at his tone, which wasn’t joking in the slightest. 

“That’s thoughtful of you. We’ll take them.”

Yuri bent down and picked up a hatchet. The size and weight were perfect for him. Plus, it looked powerful. 

“I’m coming too.” 

“…Come again?”

This time Yuri broke into a fit of coughs. The other boys stared at Flynn with their mouths wide open. 

“I’ve checked out the medicinal garden here, but it looks like it’s lacking water. I’d be in trouble if it withered.” 

One of the boys came back to his senses with a start and started to speak. 

“If I recall correctly, there are various kinds of medicinal herbs around here…” 

“……Is it because of your mother?” 

Yuri had overheard talk of Flynn’s mother not feeling well. 

“I’d be in trouble if it withered.” 

Flynn repeated, answering the question without answering it. 

“Besides, I want to repay the debt I owe.” 

“Debt?” 

Yuri blinked. What’s he talking about? Since when did he owe me something— 

Ah, that. The Grey Alleyways incident came to mind. I mean, I did come running to help him. But in the end, didn’t Flynn handle it on his own without even needing me? Can you even call that a debt? 

Yuri looked at Flynn again. That face, and that gaze of his, was straightforward — so straightforward, in fact, that it could be called too straightforward. 

Before he knew it, Yuri had relaxed his body. Letting out a huff, he grinned in the face of that sincerity. 

“You’re a pretty good person, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” 

Yuri couldn’t believe his ears. What did he just say?

But for some reason, the other person had an offended look on his face. 

“I’m not making fun of you.” 

“No, you were.” 

“I was only praising you.” 

“That’s called making fun of me.” 

After saying that, Flynn turned away abruptly. Yuri was at a loss for words, and his mouth opened and shut wordlessly. He searched for a biting remark to throw back at him, but—

“H-Hey, shouldn’t we leave soon? If we stay here we’ll definitely get caught.” 

At Jareth’s timid words, Yuri shut his mouth. He gave one last glare at Flynn, and then placed his hand on the cart. To his surprise, Flynn took his place right next to him. It looked like he intended to push the cart together with Yuri. Certainly it was better if the person with more strength pushed the cart, but with that being said, still— 

Yuri decided to stop thinking or saying anything else. 

The group finally resumed their march in silence. 

Yuri fell into a sullen silence, and struggled to sort out his myriad of chaotic emotions. The glimmering golden hair that forcibly entered the corner of his vision kept irritating him.

As I thought, I don’t like him at all.

Prev | Index | Next

[class12maths]

Sample Video Tutorial on Inverse Trigonometric Functions for Class 12 Maths — MathYug

Explore Inverse Trigonometric Functions with video tutorials on MathYug for Class 12 Maths by subject expert Ashish Kumar. Master complex concepts with clear explanations and step-by-step guidance.

We’re excited to share sample video tutorials on Inverse Trigonometric Functions by Ashish Kumar (Agam Sir) to highlight the quality education MathYug offers. In these sample videos, Ashish Sir simplifies complex concepts into easy-to-understand segments, providing clear explanations and step-by-step solutions. These engaging tutorials highlight the effective teaching methods used in all our Class 12 Maths resources. Watch the videos and see how MathYug can transform your learning experience.

NCERT Exercise 2.2 Inverse Trigonometric Functions Class 12 Maths — MathYug

Inverse Trigonometric Functions Class 12 Maths Chapter 2 (Part-1) — MathYug

Inverse Trigonometric Functions Class 12 Maths Chapter 2 (Part-2) — MathYug

[aconite-scanlation]

Hoshi no Ouka | Chapter 2.2 [EN TL] MangaDex link | All Hoshi no Ouka updates

This newest Liberum creation. Friends, lovers, fashion and hanging out after-school... For Hoshino Ouka, a gal who grew up in the city those are important things. But when she unexpectedly had to move to the country side town 'Yutakamachi', everything she hold dear vanishes...? In an unfamiliar town the fresh and tender days of youth begin! ❧ Read the trial-draft here. ❧ Follow the blog/Discord for updates and extras. ❧ Want to talk about the series? Check out the Discord. ❧ See any mistakes? Let me know so I can fix it. ❧ I love reading your comments~ It also helps me gauge interest in the series.

[mathswithnarendrasir]

Class-8 Mahtematics Chapter-2 Exercise -2.2 | NCERT Solution #mathematics

[earlysunshines]

order for delivery!

pham hanni x fem!reader

synopsis: hanni is a terrible multi-tasker and it's very evident when her phone is in between her ear and shoulder while she orders delivery. she's messily figuring out what to tackle on her calendar first as she mumbles her order, what lecture notes to go over, when her midterms fall---and oops, she just said 'love you, bye' to the worker on the other end of the phone.

warnings: none(?) i think it's just rly silly and cute and fluffy ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: ugh she's so cute and such a loser and UGH anyways i wrote this so quickly but maybe that's because i love thsi fic so much it was so so so fun to write omfg ENJOY!!

hanni is a terrible multitasker, it only ends up in her getting things mixed up and done slower. still, she does it anyway.

her phone is tucked awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, fingers tapping at the laptop keyboard while scrolling through lecture notes. “uh, yeah… chicken lo mein with extra chicken… and um also…” she squinted at the calendar on her screen. “what was i supposed to— oh, right… midterm next wednesday. right, cool.”

on the other end you listened patiently, smiling to yourself and holding back a small giggle as she mumbled half an order while clearly being busy with other things.

“wait, sorry!” she apologizes quickly, realizing she hadn’t ordered what minji and haerin had asked for. “also six steamed pork dumplings— no, twelve please. shrimp fried rice and… wait, i already said that, right? ugh—anyway, just, yeah, add that too.”

you ring it all up, smiling wider. “anything else?”

there’s a brief moment of silence until you hear, “huh? oh, no, that’s it.” she replies absentmindedly. she had been paying no attention at all, flipping through her notes and muttering to herself quietly about what she needed to review before the weekend. “uh, yeah, thanks—love you, bye.”

another beat of silence passes before you chime in, voice playful. “love you too.”

you could practically hear her freeze, the realization hits her. you hear a gasp on the other end of the phone, sharp and followed by a small curse.

‘w-wait, what?” hanni stammers, cheeks heating up like crazy. everything hanni had been bombarded with halts. her hands freeze on the laptop, her phone almost slips from her shoulder, and the papers she had been holding with the other hand have all landed on teh counter. everything hanni had been thinking about—midterm wednesday, lecture notes, module 2.2, chapter three reading—dissapear from her mind in a blink.

she hears a laugh on the other end, then a voice that sends a shiver down her spine. 

“your total is $28.41, by the way.”

“god, i’m sorry.” hanni rushes out the apology, face palming herself. “i didn’t mean it— not that i don’t love you! well, i mean, i don’t know you, so i don’t love you. not that i hate you! no hard feelings. i’m not saying you’re— okay i’m, i’m going to go. bye. thank you. sorry.”

hanni presses the red button on her phone, ending the call and cringing to herself. hanni is more than glad that her friends in the living room hadn’t heard the most embarassing phonecall of her life. if any of them were to witness it, she’d never live it down. her cheeks are fuming against her hand; she’s a mess, she really needs to stop tackling twelve things at once even though it brings her some type of comfort—less chaos during lots of chaos makes it seem like something manageable.

she clicks through a bunch of tabs, skims through a few lines on her paper, and then closes her laptop. she does this while being distracted by the whole one minute interaction from earlier, shooting herself in the head mentally everytime she thinks of it.

less than twenty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up. hanni knows it’s not the person on the phone, because when the man speaks, it’s not the same voice that sent a weird shiver down her spine when she realized they said “love you too” back to her.

she takes the two bags over to her living room, setting them down in front of two ravenous students—otherwise known as her best friends danielle and minji—watching their eyes sparkle just from the sight. she rolls her eyes at them, sitting down against her small couch and leaning against as they waste no time to dig in and unbox.

hanni’s the last one to reach in and grab something to munch on—mistake number one. mistake number two is catching minji furrowing her brows at a piece of paper, pickiing it up and reading, instead of stopping her before she can do any of that.

her best friend reads it outloud in a confused tone: “i put two extra fortune cookies in there,” minji begins, danielle scoots over to read too. “hope your fortune is as sweet as your voice. love, the girl you don’t hate, but don’t love :(“

“p.s. you sound cute when you’re caught off guard ;-)”

minji finishes reading, and then the two of her friends look up, staring down hanni.

“hanni, what’s this?”

“i— give me that!” hanni says, face burning up. she swipes the paper from minji’s hand, looking at the paper and covering it with her hand like her friends hadn’t just read it together. she cringes, closing her eyes and falling down on teh floor. “i’m an idiot.”

“hanniiiiii” danielle whines, scooting over to shake her by her shoulders while she’s on the floor. “what’s that about? do you have an admirer or something?”

“i can’t tell you, i just, i’m so stupid.”

“dude, what?” minji questions, completely ignoring the steaming, delicious food on the coffee table. “explain—now.”

hanni feels her heart beating like crazy, then she gives in and sits up. her face is most definitely beet red, maybe even worse when she glances at the note again.

“i accidentally said ‘love you, bye’ to the worker on the phone.” hanni says quietly, shaking her head. “and she said it back.”

“she what?” danielle and minji say in unison, looking at her in disbelief.

hanni lets out a weird noise, overwhelmed and flustered beyond words. she looks down at the note again through the spaces in her fingers as she covers her face, not noticing any name or anything that might lead to another encounter with the mystery girl on the other end of the line. this disappoints her a bit, but even if she were to have a name or number or anything, she wouldn’t be able to face you. 

after getting teased to death, the trio indulges in food after a very long and tiring study session. the conversation shifts to annoying professors, upcoming midterms, plans for when they all have free time—but hanni is still thinking of you, oddly enough.

—

a little over a week from that day, hanni orders takeout again. she’s somehow forgotten (for the most part) her embarrassing interaction, probably because her midterm is tomorrow and she’s completely forgotten to eat. her phone sits in between her shoulder and ear again, head tilted awkwardly to rush out an order. 

“alpha waves, altruism, anorexia nervosa… shit, sorry. um yeah, i’d like six steamed dumplings please, pork. umm… chow mein— no, scratch that. shrimp fried rice please.” her words are hurried out her mouth as she furrows her brows at her laptop screen, clicking through slides and trying to comprehend two units of psychology in one night. “that’s it, thank you, love you.”

hanni stops in place, frozen in shock. there is no way.

“wow, you must be smitten, huh?” she hears on the end of the line, followed by a small chuckle. “love you too, ‘hp.’” hanni had never used her full name when ordering things, well, only food. she always had this fear of sharing her legal name unless it was for unconsumable orders. “your total is $14.89 by the way.” 

you hear a groan on the end of the line, followed by what sounds like pens and pencils hitting the floor.

“...you alright?”

hanni, caught off guard by the whole conversation for the most part, but also the fact that you noticed how she had just spilled half her supplies onto her apartment floor, answers with a simple, “yeah.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“i’m really sorry, again, for the… you know.”

“your undying love for me?”

“what?” hanni says, completely disregarding the pens, pencils, and highlighters on the floor. “i- no! no. i’m not in love with you! i didn’t mean it—”

“i’m teasing, hp.” she hears the smile in your voice. “would you like an extra fortune? last time i had heard from you i remember something about a midterm.”

“you remembered?” it sounds a little pathetic, maybe desperate coming from hanni, but hanni couldn’t care less. she’s tired, overwhelmed, and has gone over so much work in the span of a few days that she really can’t think or function correctly.

“yeah, not many people sound as young as you. it’s usually a parent or something ordering for their family at this time. plus, you made my shift.” you confess, “i thought it was cute, you know, how frantic you had ordered your meal.”

“i’m really sorry about that, like seriously, i’m really, really sorry.”

“it’s okay hp.”

“right, yeah. i uh, i have to study. sorry— i don’t know why i’m saying sorry, ugh, sorry. thanks, bye.”

“no ‘love you?’” you ask, and before hanni can answer you respond, “kidding. i’ll throw in two fried wontons, have a good night hp.”

the call ends and hanni blinks a few times as she tries to process what just happened. she’s embarrassed beyond words, just as flustered too. there might even be a blush on her cheeks, she can’t stop thinking about how smooth you were with your teasing, plus the way your voice sounded. 

hanni thinks it’s the midterm getting to her, the stress. she cleans up the mess on the floor and goes through her vocabulary notes. she hears a knock on the door twenty minutes later which makes her jump in her seat.

she grabs the bag of fried rice and dumplings, placing it on the counter before taking everything out. hanni hears her stomach rumble a bit, she definitely underestimated how hungry she was.

before hanni digs in, she notices two fortune cookies and a note at the bottom. she completely ignores the cookies, grabbing the note and opening it up to see the same small handwriting from last time:

“i’m guessing your initials are hp? i could be wrong… 

hp like harry potter? it makes sense because you’re magical.

good luck on your midterm! hopefully you’ll order for a post-midterm celebration.

p.s. there are extra fried wontons ;p”

hanni smiles as she reads the note. pause. hanni stops smiling immediately when she becomes aware of the fact that she’s smiling because of a note. a note from a mystery woman on the other end of the line.

—

midterms are over, all of them. hanni had gone through all four midterms. all four. hanni’s burnt out to oblivion, finding comfort in her bed as soon as she gets back from her last midterm. she checks her messages and is greeted by the groupchat she’s in with danielle and minji.

minji: FINALLY i feel like a fish that’s been gutted out it’s not even finals lowk wasn’t even that bad actually how about you guys

danielle: my midterm is in an hour!  wish me luck :D how was yours hanni?

hanni: i’m about to PASS OUT why did i choose forensics

minji: because you’re a nerd don’t let one biology midterm screw you over who’s going to take care of my body parts when i suddenly get murdered

danielle: woah quite a situation, no?

hanni: uagghshhskafhjk i’m going to sleep GOODNIGHT do you guys want to come over later dani do you need time to unwind before you come over

danielle: no that’s alright! i find your apartment quite cozy i’ll just crash there right after, thanks han okay i’m going to review a bit more wish me luck!

minji: good luck mo dani!! you can do it  we love you

hanni: good luck! you’ve got this

danielle:  ❤️

hanni smiles at danielle’s message, she’s always so positive—even through text, even during these trying times. she decides to pass out for almost two hours, waking up groggy and finding herself almost tripping all the way back to her couch in the living room. she sighs as she collapses onto the cushions, waiting for minji and danielle to come over.

then her thoughts race back to you, embarassingly enough. she thinks about your stupid flirting, your stupid voice, and the stupid giggle she could hear through the phone. she thinks about how stupid she is for smiling, how stupid she is. everything is stupid.

hanni is fantasizing about some random person she’s ordered affordable chinese food from, she doesn’t even know her name. 

(hanni’s brain is mush.)

instinctively, she goes through her recent calls, dialing the number of the restaurant that serves her favorite dumplings. 

it rings for a few seconds before someone answers, “hello?”

the voice isn’t familiar whatsoever, hanni feels a strange discomfort in her stomach. 

hanni doesn’t realize that she hasn’t spoken a word until the second “hello?” is uttered. she breaks from her trance.

“hi, hello, yeah, hi.”

“hello, what can i get you?”

hanni purses her lips before replying, “oh, um.” she sounds like a sad child. “fried rice, i’ll do chicken. wontons, fried, twelve of them. could i also get beef-broccoli lo mein?”

she hears nothing for about three seconds, then a hum. “got it, could i get a name for that order?”

“hp.” 

“y/n’s ‘hp?’” who the hell is y/n? hanni thinks to herself. 

“what?”

“nevermind.” the worker says with her monotone voice. “will that be it?”

“yeah, thank you.” hanni doesn’t say ‘love you’ this time. she tells herself it’s because she’s not preoccupied with at least three things in that same moment, but a part of it is because it’s not the same voice that she had been expecting to hear. “what’s the total?”

“$24.12. it’ll be over in a little more than twenty minutes.”

“okay, thank you.” hanni says, and instead of hearing something snarky back—she hears a hum, and then the call ends.

…

you walk into work later than usual, one of your midterms had been pushed a bit later, so your hours were cut off. 

as you walk in, you catch your coworker’s head snap up. as soon as she realizes it’s you, she relaxes a bit.

“good evening haerin!” you beam, somehow upbeat and lively even after your grueling calculus midterm. “miss me?”

“just had to take more calls than i ever do in one week.” she sighs, watching you move over behind the counter and push your bag under the desk. “so maybe a little.”

“awww, you missed me so much.”

“shut up.” haerin groans, sitting down in the little chair where no customers can catch her. “you know what you missed?”

“what?”

“your girlfriend called—miss hp.”

“hp?!” you say it like you’ve just missed the train that comes every two hours. “seriously? did she say ‘love you?’”

“of course that’s what you’re so animated about.” haerin rolls her eyes at you, shrugging. “she didn’t.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips, a very exaggerated one for that matter. then you frown, sitting down in the spinny chair nearby and rotating yourself in your seat like a little kid.

“i can’t believe i missed her.”

“you’re actually insane for flirting with a customer.”

“she has a cute voice.”

“you don’t even know her y/n.” haerin scoots over, but only to flick you in the forehead. she leans back in her seat, smirking. you rub your skin and pout at her, making her roll her eyes once more before she continues on, “she could be old, crinkly, and married or something. what if she’s like… balding? what if her teeth are falling out and she—”

“why are you assuming the worst haerin. you’re so— whatever. she sounds my age, i guess. it’s just fun to mess around, it’s cute.”

“i will never get you.” your coworker crosses her arms, jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. “could you get that? i’ve run out of social battery.”

“it’s a phone call haerin.”

“talking to you drained me already.”

you frown, making her giggle at you.

—

the next time hanni calls is two days later, because she’s a loser that can’t seem to get the thought of the chinese restaurant employee who keeps flirting with her (albeit smoothly) out of her head. the phone rings twice, then someone picks up, and hanni waits eagerly.

“hi, pledis plates, how can i help?” it’s you, it’s you. the memory of hearing ‘y/n’s hp?’ pops up in her head—could you be y/n? you have to be.

“hi.” hanni says simply, biting the inside of her lip. she hears a small chuckle on the other end of the line, slightly relieved.

“if it isn’t hp.” it comes out cheeky, making hanni blush. “missed you, you know?”

“what?”

“did you miss me too?”

“i–” yes. hanni did miss you, not like she’d admit it, at least out loud. “i’d like to order dumplings.”

“harsh.” you respond jokingly, “six, pork, and steamed, got it.”

“you memorized it?” 

“you ordered it last time.”

hanni can’t help but laugh, smiling as she holds the phone against her ear. “you must be head over heels to be remembering my order.”

“you’re the one who confessed first though?”

“that was a mistake.”

“uh huh.” amusement is laced in your tone. “it’ll be five dollars, should be there in less than twenty.”

“great.”

 hanni doesn’t know what else to say. you both pause, letting silence and the faint static ring in your ears.

“what happened to the usual goodbye?”

hanni feels herself shrinking in her bed, feet kicking slightly, blush forming. god, she’s head over heels, she’s insane, she doesn’t know a single thing about you other than the fact that you have a really endearing voice and that your flirting is enough to have her smiling like an idiot.

“thanks, bye.” neither of you hang up after hanni says it, knowing there’s something missing. hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling her stomach closing in on herself and simultaneously doing a flip. her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she chokes out, “love you.”

“i was waiting for that one.”

“a-are you— really?”

“yeah.” you simply state, and you say nothing else but, “bye hp.”

“you’re not going to say it back?”

you grin to yourself. hanni hears a small, amused laugh fromthe other end, sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t fold that easy, maybe next time.” you hang up right after, leaving hanni dumbfounded.

hanni looks at her phone like you’re going to call back, but you don’t. she drops the phone on her bed, putting both hands over her face and feeling her skin burn against her palms. she groans, then groans again, and sighs finally. 

maybe next time. there’s going to be a next time—hanni has that at least.

—

hanni calls again the next monday, around two days after the last call. it’s the same day she had first said the infamous ‘love you’ to you on accident. she calls at around the same time, laptop on her lap as she taps lightly on the backspace key, though not enough to actually press it. she wonders to herself for a moment, is the dent in her wallet really worth it? has she really reached rock bottom?

“pledis plates, what would you like to order?”

it’s not you. hanni sinks into the cushion of her couch and feels herself deflate. she can’t always call with the assumption that you’ll pick up, there are other employees after all. this time, it’s the same monotone voice she had heard before, a stark contrast to your flirtatious, lively tone.

“hi, i’d just like—”

“ah, hp.”

“how did you—”

“i remember your voice from last time. y/n was quite sad when she realized she’d missed your call by twenty minutes.”

“what do you mean?”

“she came into work late, midterms or something.”

midterms. the information alone gives her the assumption that you’re also in college, maybe even in her grade, and if she’s pushing it maybe you even go to her university. she conjures up a better picture of you now, not quite clear or concrete, but it’s something.

“is she a student?”

“i don’t know if i can leak that, she told me to be very secretive about her. i don’t think you’ll have trouble finding out more though, she never shuts up.”

hanni snickers, so you’re a talker too. yeah, hanni’s into that.

“well now i know her name.”

“do what you will with that.” the girl mutters. hanni hears a small sigh, then another response, “hey, y/n was curious about you. are you in high school?”

“what— no! do i sound like it?”

“you sound young.” the girl on the end of the line—haerin—shrugs. she continues, “y/n thinks you’re the same age as her, she also assumes you’re cute. i guess no one will know until a miracle happens.”

“i can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” hanni chuckles awkwardly, but haerin doesn’t respond.  “but if it helps, anyway, i’m a sophomore in college. tell her i’m interested in forensics.”

“okay.”

silence follows again, but haerin hasn’t hung up, and hanni still holds the phone against her ear expecting something more. hanni decides to take another step, asking, “y/n, how is… could you like, describe her?”

“physically or…? well, i can do a brief description. to start off: annoying, jokes a lot, pretends to be all mopey when insulted. physically: taller than me—i’d say taller than a lot of women. she has a nice smile i guess, but it’s the kind you want to wipe off her face, ugh, it’s like she’s making fun of you when she does it. her hair is also always a little messy, she says its for the ‘appeal,’ but i see none.”

hanni fights back a giggle. this woman has just spilled a good amount, a perfect amount in hanni’s eyes (any amount is alright, anything more than a name). this ‘y/n’ is tall, taller than most women, and hanni is shorter than most; hanni is into that, she loves taller girls. and messy hair too? that’s cute, probably. as long as it’s not the same type of messy that men rock around—men that barely shower or do anything. essentially: compsci majors—then hanni will be alright. you sound wonderful.

“did you want to order anything? or are did you just want to flirt with the idiot.”

“hey! hey, hey. lets not— ugh, okay, could i just get um, six pork dumplings—steamed.”

“okay.” the girl says quietly, and then hanni hears some light tapping. “six dumplings for hp.”

“hanni. it’s hanni. my name is hanni.”

“got it the first time.”

“you’re bright, aren’t you?”

“your order is going to be there later, bye.” and then the girl hangs up, leaving hanni speechless.

—

hanni waits a few days to call, because she doesn’t remember dialing on tuesdays or wednesdays and hearing a voice that brings her a little thrill. she leans against her counter waiting for a response, then lights up when she hears,

“pledis plates, how can i help?”

“y/n.” hanni says, almost relieved. “hi.”

“hi hanni.” your coworker must’ve leaked that conversation, hanni thinks. “nice to hear from you.”

“likewise.”

“can i get six dumplings? pork and—”

“---steamed, yes.” you’re smiling as you say it, like an eager little child. “nothing else?”

“no.”

“alright.” you respond, clicking two tabs and ringing up her order. you don’t give her the cost or anything, staring at the screen and deciding to huff out, “forensics?” you’re starting a real conversion now, what a step.

hanni is smiling hard, she’s so giddy that she’s twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger. 

“yeah, i think it’s nice.”

“cute.” you mumble, “i’m studying kinesiology.”

“is that so?”

“unfortunately.” you say lightheartedly. hanni doesn’t know what to respond with, she wants to continue the conversation and hear your voice longer, but there’s nothing she can think of. does she ask for your number? how you are? hanni is useless, she’s always been useless when it came to girls.

“hanni?”

“y-yes?” hanni cringes at the slight stutter.

“your total is five dollars. it’ll be there soon.”

“oh,” hanni says sadly, “i mean, um. okay.”

and then she hangs up, a little defeated, but there’s always a next time…right?

when her food gets there, she hurriedly pays the delivery driver, making her wallet cry even more. there’s a note in the bag, along with two fortune cookies. the note has your name and a number on it, making hanni gasp and smile to herself again. there’s a little ‘text me, miss hanni. i’m looking forward to it.’ and as soon as hanni reads it, she clasps her hands together, squeals quietly into them, giggles, and kicks her feet in the air.

hanni tries to do some schoolwork, managing to get ten minutes of reading down, a few sentences jotted down, and then the rest of the time she’s thinking about her new saved contact. she hasn’t texted you yet, mainly because she had been overthinking about what and when to text you. she contemplates texting danielle and minji about it, but she’d just be teased. 

this is the first time in a while since hanni’s gotten anywhere close to something romantic, or maybe this is platonic, but the flirting doesn’t support that idea. she’s tried tinder—once, once and never again—and going to parties. nothing works out, none of them make her giddy and giggly like this. 

before she knows it, two hours have passed, and so she decides to send a simple “hi, this is hanni!’ 

too enthusiastic? too bland? too basic? ugh. hanni groans, lying on her couch in an uncomfortable position.

you reply almost immediately with ‘hey, i’m off in twenty minutes. let’s call?’ and hanni has to put the phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

twenty minutes passes by too quickly, hanni hasn’t even figured out what to say. she looks at her phone, waiting for you to call, and when you do, she short circuits; hanni drops her phone on her face.

“hello?” it’s you.

it’s you.

“hey. um, how was work?”

“aw, even asking me about work.” she can hear the smirk in your tone, rolling her eyes as she smiles to herself. “it was fine, my favorite part was when this girl ordered pork dumplings though. she has a cute voice.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. hey, can i ask you something?”

“what is it?”

“i work tomorrow, but its the morning shift. i end at one, i was you know… wondering if you… wanted…” you sound nervous, this is a first for hanni. “if you wanted to share some dumplings, free of charge.”

hanni covers her mouth almost immediately, suppressing any signs of her freaking out.

“are you asking me out?”

“only if you say yes.”

you hear a giggle before you hear a “yes.”

“really?”

“mhm.” hanni smiles again, thinking of something that’ll leave you just as flustered. “okay, well… i’ll see your tomorrow. bye, love you.”

“love you too hanni.”

—

minji’s usually the one who picks up orders if it’s not delivery, and hanni is almost always taking the orders. so when hanni enters the shop for the first time, she’s quite fond of the smell of ingredients being stir fried or steamed, as well as the interior of the place. it’s very nice inside, hopefully the nice person she’s been meaning to see shows up soon.

there’s a girl by the counter, she’s only slightly taller than hanni, and her eyes are oddly cat-like. she looks up at her with those eyes, then shoots a small smile.

“hi, how can i help?” this is who the monotone voice belongs to. her image somehow matches perfectly with the voice.

“hi, i’m hanni.” as soon as she introduces herself, the workers eyes widen.

“woah, you’re real.”

“surprising, i know.”

“y/n is changing in the back—she was eager to get off fives minutes early so she wouldn’t be in uniform when you showed up.” haerin explains, shaking her head. “it’s nice to meet you, you’re very pretty.”

“thank you! i appreciate it. you’re pretty as well.”

haerin doesn’t get to respond. the person who does respond is the girl walking up to the register, scooting haerin to the side with her knuckles and tapping at the screen. the girl isn’t in uniform, and she’s also really good looking. 

you run a hand through your hair as you clock out through the system. “hey, did hanni ever stop by?” you ask haerin, not looking up from the screen because you’ve typed your code in wrong. 

“look up idiot.” your coworker snickers, and when you do, you’re met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

you notice her right away, hair flowing down past her chest, curtain bangs perfectly framing her face. her plump lips and striking features make you pause. sure, you expected her to be pretty—maybe even conventionally attractive, everyone is in their own way—but seeing her in person? she’s beyond that, practically model material. my god. your lips part slightly in surprise, and you catch yourself, quickly swallowing as you both smile at each other at the same time.

you clock out—thankfully not typing in the wrong code again from nervousness—and step out from behind the counter. a small tote bag hangs from your shoulder, and a plastic bag dangles in your hand. you glance down at it.

“twelve dumplings—steamed, pork, everything you like—for the pair.”

hanni’s smile lights up her face, and you can't help but think about how adorable she looks, how effortlessly charming she is.

“why thank you,” she says, her voice soft and playful. it sounds better in person than through the phone.

“you’re gorgeous, by the way,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, still marveling at her. “like, i expected you to be pretty, but… wow.” you can tell haerin is fake gagging or rolling her eyes or something like that from behind, she’s probably already on her way to avoid witnessing this interaction.

hanni blushes instantly, the red creeping up her cheeks. if she were at home, she’d probably be giggling and kicking her feet, but for now, she just looks away shyly, smiling. “thanks, you’re really cute too.”

“you think?”

“yes.” she meets your eyes, still flushed. “can we eat? i’m hungry.”

“right, yeah. i hope it’s not too forward, but is the park nearby good? we can settle down and, um… talk more. you know, more than just about your usual order.”

hanni laughs—you might die right then and there—before responding, “that’s perfect,” and then she nods, looking at you. her eyes are soft and warm and wonderful.

“great,” you echo.

“great,” she repeats, a small laugh escaping her.

you both walk side by side, still a little stiff at first, the mutual attraction between you creating an unspoken tension. but as you settle into the rhythm of conversation, the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by the easy flow of natural chemistry. each step feels lighter, the distance between you shrinking with every passing word.

—

—

—

hanni hears a knock at her door, confused because she hadn’t expected any guests other than minji and danielle—who are already in her living room leeching off her netflix account. 

she opens it to see you, which immediately brings a smile to her face. she almost leaps over to hug you, nearly making you drop the large bag in your hand.

“someone missed me.”

“shut up.” hanni says before pecking your lips. she looks at you, your dorky, adorable face, and then presses another longer kiss. “come in babe. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“i got off early because i had to cover. i wanted to surprise you, and i know you had company over.”

“oh yeah,” hanni had almost forgotten that her best friends had been there.

she leads you over, helping you take off your tote and setting it on her counter. her friends catch the two of you from their peripheral and wave, then their eyes light up at the sight of the familiar bag in your hand. you set it down, placing a the container of fried rice, lo mein, and dumpling down as they treat you like a savior.

“thank you so much, i owe you my first born.” danielle says, giving you a playful pout.

minji snickers, scooting up to the coffee table. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us—to hanni.”

you look over to your girlfriend, that’s right, she’s your girlfriend. hanni is rolling her eyes at you, pushing your shoulder, and then pulling you in by the wrist to sit next to her. she’s not one for pda—especially in front of danielle and minji—but under the table her fingers graze your skin, which makes you smile.

you grab a secret container from behind your back, handing it to hanni. when she opens it, she opens her mouth, shocked and grateful for the six steamed pork dumplings that you brought just for her.

[please-let-this-work-oh-my-god]

OH MY FUCKING GOD

[adm1n-b]

I Thought I Knew You

*Chapter One: Memories*      The halls echoed with the sounds of birds that had taken nest in the long abandoned building. Crumbled walls from the invasion, black, dried blood from the last battle still laid on the ground, waiting for something to wash it away, but she wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. She was far too caught up in the things running her mind. Memories of her time here. Regrets about who she trusted. A bit of disgust by how the long forgotten base now looked. When it came to the base, she was the one who did everything after all. She guarded it, she cleaned it, she killed the rodents that got inside. Only places she wouldn't touch were the other members' rooms. Those were their responsibility, and their living areas. If they want twenty mice roaming their room, then as long as they don't move into another room, they get twenty mice roaming their room.      In her memories she could see herself chasing after Dark after he pissed her off again, his screams of fright making her smile as she slowly caught up to him before he slammed a door in her face, locking it as he ran away from the door. Yami and End chuckling at the two of them as they did their own things. End planning out their next move with Guardian on his lap, holding onto him as she took a nap. Yami playing one of her games while Dark plotted the next way he'd anger Guardian. Everyone knew he did it on purpose, though Guardian went with it. She remembered her last regret, the only one that got her injured. She lost her right eye that day. How could she not regret everything leading up to it.      Guardian didn't snap out of it until she was face first on the floor, having tripped over an exposed wire, a few dead rats where they had broken it. She quickly stood up and moved away from the rats, brushing herself off as her nose scrunched up from it. "Disgusting..." She mumbled under her breath as she turned away from them.      She continued walking, making her way towards the status chamber. The ocean of goop began to come into view as she continued walking. That much alone told her she was getting closer to where she wanted to be. Wires hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, she was lucky there wasn't a bunch of water on the ground, and that the wires no longer had energy running through them. The floor was a struggle to get through with how many holes and up-done tiles had formed, or in areas with a more broken ceiling and walls, the crumbled concrete now stretched across the old floor.      As she entered the control room, she traced her hand along the wall, feeling the concrete bumps and cracks in the wall. She smiled a little at that. At least the walls here felt the same as she remembered. Here, she could watch End as he slept when she had nothing better to do, which was more often than not. She'd admire his every feature as she waited for the perfect time to wake him up from his long sleep. It was difficult to see him. The barely translucent goop made that hard. While bright lights kept the observatory room lit, she couldn’t lie and try to say that the lights in his chamber made it easier to see. The goop was dark, almost blocking out the light. Sometimes she was tempted to press the button to wake him up just so she could see him more clearly… But that would have made a hallway rise, and End would have walked out instead of staying in his chamber… But eventually she got used to it. She spent hours a day there, and for a long time she couldn’t even find where he was, but now if they had asked her if she could see him, she’d even be able to spot the freckles on End’s face. As boring as it was, she'd entertain herself with a monologue. He couldn't respond after all, and sometimes she just needed to talk.       She made her way to the control panel and rested her hand on the various buttons. She sighed softly and ran her fingers along them, a tiny smile on her face as the memory of her first time waking End up came to be. She had woken him up because she was feeling lonely, with Dark bugging her constantly and Yami often in her own world. She really wanted someone to pay her some good attention, and though it only lasted a minute or so because of Dark bursting into the control room, she felt relaxed. She felt more relaxed then she had in a long time, but many days have passed by then, and many more wake ups followed it, to the point he had to put up a sign saying not to wake him unless it was an emergency, next to the sign saying not wake him unless it's Guardian. Both signs had started rotting by now, but she still smiled as she looked at them.      She turned away and started walking through the base once more, a smile on her face as her steps filled the air.. That is until she reached the cellblock. She remembered when she had to lock up someone in there... Dark helped them escape, yet for some reason End allowed him to stay and go unpunished. Perhaps that was her first sign that something was wrong. She was the one that was supposed to protect the base, but she failed at every turn. She was small and weak, her summoning book often kept in her room to avoid it getting damaged, but the base was huge. It was impossible for her to guard it all by herself, but that's what she volunteered to do, and she failed time and time again... Perhaps that was why Dark was left unpunished. It was her job, and she failed.      She remembered the last battle she was a part of in this building. How she thought she had the upper hand, only to be quickly apprehended. How she lost most of her vision in her right eye. She still has nightmares about it. Sometimes she wakes up and rushes to cover her eye as the phantom pain came flooding back. Though she had no wound there, she'd cry bloody murder as she tried to tell herself it was just a dream, that it's already passed, but she can still hear their voices. Her screaming at her two friends after finding out they were traitors, one of them saying they weren't while the other quickly fessed up. The weeks she spent trapped in that place, unable to escape before some foolish child came along... The humiliation... The loneliness that gnawed at her to this day... It was infuriating.       She quickly started running, not wanting to be there any longer. She didn't want to remember how she found out those she thought were her friends weren't deserving of her trust. She didn't want to remember how much she’s failed everyone. She had to be the reason almost everyone left her, right? Who really knows? Not like she'll speak with those who wronged her. Not in a civil manner at least, and certainly not without being restrained.      But she didn't care about that. Not anymore. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who the reason was. What matters is why, and as far as she was aware, an eye for an eye is a wonderful saying…

[scoonsalicious]

With Friends Like These... Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ONGOING

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Warnings: 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here.

"*" indicates explicit sexual content (each chapter will feature its own warnings as needed), language, angst, excessive use of Bleachers' lyrics

More will be added as the story progresses, and some chapters may have specific warnings that I will keep under wraps to avoid spoilers. When we get to those sections, I will let you know, so if there is a specific trigger that you absolutely cannot handle, let me know and I will tell you if the section is safe. As always, please let me know if I miss any warnings.

Word Count: Currently 39k; Total TBD

Prologue Lily (04.27.24)

1.1 Major (04.29.24) 1.2 Bucky (04.30.24) 1.3 Major (05.01.24)

2.1 Bucky (05.02.24) 2.2 Major* (05.02.24) 2.3 Bucky* (05.03.24)

3.1 Bucky (05.04.24) 3.2 Major (05.04.24) 3.3 Bucky (05.05.24) 3.4 Major (05.06.24)

4.1 Bucky (05.07.24) 4.2 Major (05.07.24) 4.3 Bucky (05.08.24)

5.1 Major* (05.09.24) 5.2 Bucky (05.10.24) 5.3 Lily (05.11.24) 5.4 Major* (05.12.24)

6.1 Bucky (05.13.24) 6.2 Lily (05.14.24) 6.3 Bucky (05.15.24)

7.1 Major (05.23.24) 7.2 Bucky* (05.24.24) 7.3 Major* (05.26.24) 7.4 Bucky* (05.27.24)

8.1 Major (05.28.24) 8.2 Bucky (05.29.24)

9.1 Lily (06.03.24) 9.2 Major (06.05.24) 9.3 Bucky (06.07.24)

10.1 Major 10.2 Bucky

[thelovehypothesis]

Part 2.1 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 1 | 43

part 1

ex!Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x Max Verstappen

+3k words

a/n’s: again full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.2

warnings: angst-fluff (debatable happy ending)

Summary: Two three hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each or to another?

Racing Ahead (qatar grand prix 2025) 

It had been nearly a year since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

You were good at your job—great, even. From the very first race weekend with Max, you felt the rush of adrenaline, the electric tension of every decision you made behind the mic, and the weight of contributing to a world championship. It was thrilling, everything you’d ever worked for, and yet, there were quiet moments when your mind drifted back to what you had left behind.

But you didn’t have time for what-ifs. You stood in the garage, headphones around your neck, watching the pit crew scramble as they prepared the car for qualifying. Max was a machine—focused, relentless—and the two of you had developed an easy rapport. He trusted you with critical decisions, and you trusted him to deliver on the track. It was a partnership built on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As you stood there, watching the screens, you felt a familiar tug of emotion—memories of race weekends with Franco, late-night strategy talks, and the way he used to smile when he nailed a lap. But you pushed those thoughts away. That chapter of your life was over.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

The next few minutes were a blur of data, radio calls, and fast decisions. Max was flying, setting the fastest times in each sector. By the time the session ended, he had secured pole position, and the garage erupted in cheers. You smiled, proud of the work you’d done and of what the team had achieved together. This was where you belonged now—at the heart of the action, right on the edge of greatness.

But as the celebration in the garage began to die down, you caught sight of a familiar figure across the paddock—Franco. He was there, leaning against the railing, watching you. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, everything around you seemed to blur, the noise of the team fading into the background.

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially to him when he noticed the subtle moments between you and Max. The way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race made it clear he was interested. Franco noticed everything, and it was as if the air between you and him thickened each time you were near.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen him. You didn’t know what to feel—anger, sadness, or relief. You had moved on—or at least, you convinced yourself you had. But seeing him here, now, was like reopening a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Later, after the garage had emptied out and the team had retreated to prepare for the race, you found yourself wandering the paddock, lost in thought. You didn’t expect to bump into Franco, but as fate would have it, there he was, standing by the entrance to the hospitality suite, waiting for you.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

“Franco,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. “I work here now. This is my job.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things.”

There was a brief silence, filled with all the words you both wanted to say but couldn’t. Finally, Franco spoke again, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your emotions in check. “Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice.”

“I know you did,” he said, his voice strained. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It never has.”

You shook your head, the familiar ache returning to your chest. “Franco, you can’t just say things like that. You can’t—”

“I still love you,” he interrupted, his eyes burning with intensity. “I never stopped.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were speechless. You spent months trying to move on, trying to forget him, but hearing him say those words stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, stepping closer. “And I know it’s too late to fix things. But I had to tell you. I had to try.”

You stared at him, torn between the past and the present. Part of you wanted to run back to him, to fall into his arms and forget everything that had happened. But the stronger part of you knew that things could never go back to the way they were.

“I can’t, Franco,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve built something here.”

His face fell, and he nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “I understand. I just… I had to see you. To tell you how I feel.”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m glad you told me. But we’re on different paths now.”

He took a step back, his hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might try to say more. But instead, he just nodded again, resigned. “Take care, Y/N.”

You watched as he turned and walked away, your heart heavy but resolute. You had made your choice, and there was no turning back now.

As you stood there, alone in the paddock, the sounds of the race weekend buzzing around you, you took a deep breath. The pain was still there, but so was the certainty. You had chosen yourself and your future. In this moment, that was enough.

Turning back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you squared your shoulders, ready to face whatever came next. You were here for a reason, and no matter what ghosts from the past lingered, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The next day after the race, as if pulled by some invisible force, you found yourself near the Williams hospitality and crossed paths with Franco again. His eyes held a certain determination, as if something had been left unsaid. You didn’t plan on stopping, but you did.

“I just need to tell you one last thing,” he said. His voice was soft but strained, like he’d been carrying the weight of these words for too long.

You hesitated, unsure, but standing there, looking at him, you knew you wanted to hear what he wanted to say. You exhaled, already knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where the two of you just stood there, the air thick with everything unsaid. Finally, he broke it.

“I see the way Max looks at you,” he began, his gaze flickering to the ground for a moment before meeting yours. There was an edge to his words, the mention of Max hanging between you like a challenge. You met his gaze, unflinching.

“It's..It’s obvious. And I don’t think it’s fair. You won’t give me another chance, but… you’re giving him one?” 

The accusation hung in the air between you, but it wasn’t anger or bitterness that hit you—it was sadness, the echo of what you both once had.

You shook your head slowly, the corners of your lips lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Max trusts me, Franco. You didn’t.” There was another big pause between you two. 

His expression faltered, the words sinking into the space between you. It wasn’t just a statement—it was the truth of why things had fallen apart.

“You know…I’ve moved on,” you said, though the words felt heavy in your chest. “You should too.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—regret, jealousy, maybe both. He took a breath, stepping closer.

He looked at you as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “So it is because of Max?” he asked, his voice tight. “He’s the reason you’re saying this?”

You shook your head, exasperated. “This isn’t about Max. It’s about me. I’ve found my place here, Franco. I’ve built something on my own. I’m happy.”

Franco stepped forward, close enough that you could see the pain in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

You hesitated, and for a moment, you felt the urge to reach out to him, to pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a deep breath and stood your ground.

“Yes, I do.”

He stared at you for a long time, his expression shifting from hurt to acceptance. Finally, he nodded, stepping back. “I guess I always knew I’d lost you the moment I walked away.”

There was a pause, and then, almost in a whisper, he added, “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

You felt the tightness in your chest ease, the weight of the past lifting, even if just a little. “I know,” you replied softly. “But we can’t go back.”

Franco gave you one last look, a look that said everything he couldn’t put into words. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, a gentle goodbye to the memories you shared, and turned to leave.

As you walked out of the paddock, the sense of closure settled over you. It was done. The past no longer had a hold on you. You had said your goodbyes, finally and fully.

Max was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car. When he saw you, he opened the door and gestured for you to get in without saying a word. The moment you sat down, he reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it. The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and whatever the future held—whether it was with Max, racing, or something else entirely—you knew you were ready for it.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but Max never let go of your hand. He didn’t need to say anything more—his presence was enough. You leaned back in the seat, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time in what felt like forever.

You knew things were going to change. But for now, you allowed yourself to just be in this moment, feeling safe and understood beside him.

The new, the better (abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric, charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every single decision you made felt like it could either make or break his season. The entire paddock was watching. The stakes had never been higher (for you(maybe), cause well the 2021 season happened).

As the race unfolded, your nerves buzzed with anticipation. Max had been flawless, pushing the car to its limits, but on the final lap, a risky opportunity presented itself—one that could either win the championship or lose it. You had seconds to decide. Your heart pounded as you called it.

"Box Box, Max. Trust me on this."

There was a brief pause on the radio, but Max’s voice came through steady and confident. “Copy. I trust you.”

And that was it. He trusted you, completely. He always had.

As Max took the gamble and crossed the finish line first, securing his fifth world championship, the entire Red Bull team erupted into cheers. The pit wall exploded in celebration, and you stood there, momentarily frozen, barely able to believe what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together.

Before you could even process the victory, Max pulled his car into the pit lane, the roar of the crowd filling the air. As he climbed out, he ripped off his helmet and, without a second thought, sprinted toward you. Your breath caught in your throat as he reached you.

His eyes, wild with excitement and joy, locked onto yours, and before you could say anything, Max was pulling you into his arms, kissing you deeply. The world around you fell away—there was no paddock, no crowd, no cameras—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the passion in his embrace, and the weight of the moment between you.

For a split second, time froze. Everything you’d been holding back, all the tension, the unspoken feelings, rushed to the surface. Max kissed you like he’d been waiting forever for this moment, and the way he held you, like you were the only person in the world, left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting, stunned by the intensity of it all. Max’s hand lingered on your waist, his forehead resting against yours as the crowd roared in the background. He grinned, his face flushed from the race and the kiss, and whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You could barely process it, but before you could respond, your eyes drifted to the side where Franco stood, watching the entire scene unfold. His face was a storm of emotions—jealousy, anger, heartbreak all at once. He looked away, and for a moment, the past tugged at you. But it wasn’t enough to hold you back anymore.

Later, after the race, you found yourself alone with Max in the team’s motorhome, away from the cameras, the chaos, and the noise. The atmosphere was thick with the unspoken. You sat across from him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but there was also a newfound calm between you two—a sense of inevitability.

“You really didn’t have to kiss me like that,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. But your voice trembled slightly, betraying just how much the moment had affected you.

Max leaned back, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I figured it was the right time.”

You blushed, your heart fluttering as his words sank in. You’d always known Max was bold, but this… this was different. “So… what now? Red Bull doesn’t exactly encourage relationships between team members.”

He smiled, a slow, confident grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Actually, they don’t mind, as long as we don’t let it affect our work. And we work pretty well together, don’t we?”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the victory. It was more than that. It was the trust, the bond that had been quietly building between you two for months. “You really think this can work?”

Max leaned forward, his eyes soft but sure. “I think we should give it a shot. See where it goes. No pressure, just you and me.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of the past year lifting slightly from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had control over your life, over what you wanted. And maybe, just maybe, this was something you were ready to explore.

“Okay,” you said softly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Winter break and the next season all became a delicate dance between work and something more. Max was still the fierce, competitive driver you admired, but there was a softness to him now, especially when it came to you. At work, you were still the same duo—focused, driven, unstoppable—but away from the track, things were different. The playful banter that had once been strictly professional became more personal. You found yourself opening up to Max in ways you hadn’t with anyone else in a long time, and the connection between you two deepened with each passing day.

Franco remained a constant presence in the paddock as he got a seat for the 2026 season, a reminder of the past you’d left behind. There were moments when his gaze lingered on you and Max, moments when you could see the regret in his eyes. But that chapter of your life had closed, and it was time for something new.

Max didn’t push you for more, but he made it clear he was all in. He was patient, understanding, and above all, he trusted you. It was that trust, more than anything, that made you realise how different this was. Max believed in you, in the decisions you made, both on and off the track. He never questioned you, never made you doubt yourself. And in return, you found yourself falling for him, slowly but surely.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling race weekend, you and Max were sitting in his hotel room, the city lights of whatever country you were in glowing softly through the windows. Max had his arm wrapped around you, and you were leaning into him, both of you exhausted but content.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “Really? Even after winning five world championships?”

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening. “Yeah, even after that. This—being with you—it feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you realised in that moment that you felt the same way. It wasn’t just about the thrill of the races or the adrenaline of being part of something bigger than yourself. It was about Max, about the way he made you feel grounded and safe in a world that was constantly in motion.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy.

And as the season went on, that happiness grew. You and Max navigated the challenges of working together in such a high-stakes environment, but you also grew closer in ways you never imagined. There were quiet moments, stolen glances, and late-night conversations that made you realise how much Max meant to you.

The rest of the paddock eventually got used to the idea of you and Max as a couple, and while there were still whispers and raised eyebrows, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you had found something real, something worth holding onto.

By the end of the season, you were no longer just Max’s race engineer—you were his partner, in every sense of the word. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever came next, you and Max would face it together, stronger than ever

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

II.ii.2 Ou On Lira Deux Vers Qui Sont Peut-Être Du Diable

This is one case where though I still am annoyed by the shortening, I can see why it would be done. Denny's got "Two Lines of Verse Perhaps Written by the Devil", and I'm actually almost fond of Wraxall's, "Two Lines of a Doubtful Origin".

In Which A Couple of Lines Will Be Read Which Came, Perhaps, From The Evil One: Wilbour

Two Lines of a Doubtful Origin: Wraxall

In Which The Reader Will Peruse Two Verses, Which Are Of The Devil’s Composition, Possibly: Hapgood

In Which Two Lines Will Be Read Which Came Perhaps from the Evil One: Beckwith

Two Lines of Verse Perhaps Written by the Devil: Denny

In Which Several Lines Will Be Read That May Have Come From The Devil Himself: FMA

In Which You Will Read Two Lines of Verse That Are Perhaps the Devil’s: Rose

In Which Are To Be Read Two Lines of Verse Perhaps by the Devil: Donougher