#clashes with the fiction in interesting ways

[fictionadventurer]

Laura Ingalls Wilder: Eliza Jane Wilder was a terrible schoolteacher because she was a horrible disciplinarian

Also Laura Ingalls Wilder: [sends her unruly teenage daughter to live with Eliza Jane in the hope that she can figure out how to control her]

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hello again everyone i'm putting on my tinfoil jester hat & passing out Hefty grains of salt. its batshit theory time!

in short: i think Julie is gonna get violent & might end up killing someone - or she'll at least try. and i'm pretty sure something terrible is gonna happen to her.

in long: hoo boy. strap in

first off, i'd like to say that i love womens' wrongs And rights! all of this is said with utmost affection & respect for Julie. i love it when characters do terrible things, its interesting and so tasty for the story and their development <3

second disclaimer: most of this is just based off of what we have / know as of now. which is, admittedly, not much! so despite having short arms, i may be reaching very far! i'll get the based-on-knowledge part of my thoughts out of the way before getting into the more abstract I'm Just Making Shit Up At This Point part (educated guessing, yk yk!)

not sure where to start so i'll begin with what starting this line of thinking - flower symbolism. I've gone a little bit into it in a previous post from a while back (where i just made observations about the neighborhood map), but i'll restate the relevant parts. there are two flowers in the neighborhood with greek myths attached, and similar ones at that: the hyacinths outside of the Post Office, and the sunflowers outside of Frank's house.

most people know the hyacinth myth! Apollo, while playing metal frizbee with his (male) mortal lover Hyacinthus, Apollo's thrown discus bounced off of the ground and accidentally hit Hyacinthus in the head, killing him - then Apollo turned the spilled blood into the hyacinth flower. in another - popular - version of the myth, the wind god Zephyrus was jealous and blew the discus off course to kill Hyacinthus. as for sunflowers: Clytie, a nymph, was in love with Apollo and grew jealous of his relationship with a princess, Leucothoe. Clytie informed Leucothoe's father of the relationship, and he buried Leucothoe alive as punishment. Apollo turned his murdered lover into a sunflower. two flowers attached to greek myths about Apollo falling for a mortal, and that mortal gets murdered by a jealous non-mortal.

next, I would like to bring attention to This Concept Artwork from 2021. now i'm not gonna use this as a definitive "oh this exists so it must mean-" but there are always elements of concept work, especially Canon concept work, that sticks or can allude to themes or information that will be revealed later in the story. concepts are concepts for a reason - it means there's a solid idea that's being explored in depth, most times for use (especially that deep into the story crafting).

specifically, right now i'd like to look at the type of flower Julie is holding. pansies. normal ones + the primary fucked up pansy. pansies are symbols of love - both romantic and platonic, but predominantly platonic. it can also symbolize nostalgia, thought, admiration, remembrance, and can even be used as an "i'm sorry" flower. in victorian times, it was often used to represent forbidden/secret love.

stick with me, i'm getting to the point i promise

now, another thing is how much of Julie's character (meta-wise & in regards to the WH show as a production) is centered around love. her house is the "cutest" or most feminine one in the neighborhood, and it's downright infested with hearts, from the windows to the bushes to the chimney. she exists as Frank's foil, and it's almost definitive that she was meant to be Frank's love interest (there's just. so much evidence that there's no way that's not it). and just look at her! she looks like a love interest! if WH was a real show that i sat down to watch, i'd see her and immediately go "oh, ok, that's her base role"

this contradicts with what we know of her character - Julie seems big on platonic love, loving her friends, but other than that? she very much steps around what her house/character design is trying to say. she's hopscotching right over what the production wants from her. the only thing she kinda sticks with is the whole flower thing

but. but but but. i wonder! after the update, I'm pretty confident that the neighbors are influenced by the "script" and the workshop, even if they're not aware of it. see: the difference in how they act in the "recovered media" (where they behave more like they're characters playing out a bit, their dialogue has no natural lulls and it just sounds like a (really good) script) vs the 14 audios & the phone calls (natural dialogue, they seem more layered & like actual people instead of just characters, there's no set shenanigan - they're just doing their own things). and we can assume that the latter audios are from the neighbors off-script off-the-air.

despite this, they still somewhat try to fill their roles. the question is: how much of that is authentic, and how much is them still feeling that pressure to perform? just like how We as people feel pressure and expectation from societal rules/norms, even if we're not conscious of it. like, say... kids growing up thinking being queer is wrong, even if they've never been directly exposed to / made aware of homophobia/transphobia. We fill in the absence of being told "this is right" with "it must be wrong", and We act accordingly

so apply that to sapient puppets who were (again, most likely) made with set relationships, dynamics, and character details in mind. they're meant to be This Way, even if they want to be That Way, and that internal "programming" has to conflict, at least a little. like how I've seen Clown mention that homophobia will/may be a theme, and the only way i can see that happening among puppets who have never been directly exposed to it is if the above happens: they feel pressure from something they're unaware of. expectation from a "higher" plane of existence. as above, so below.

OKAY NOW WE'RE GETTING TO IT I PROMISE! blend this all together into Frank & Eddie catching feelings. they weren't meant to fall in love. they're not supposed to be together. it's - from the perspective of Playfellow & society (in the time period WH was active/created) - wrong.

Julie is supposed to be with Frank. Frank is supposed to be with Julie. in a way, they are together - they're best friends. they're foils. they were created to compliment each other and click. in the media audios, they're almost always together. if one of them is in a scene, so is the other.

so what happens if Frank starts to pull away? if he starts to spend more time with Eddie - what if Julie feels like she's being pushed out? what if she asks Frank to come play, only to be told he already has plans with Eddie, and if Julie tries to join in, what if Frank tells her no?

if it were me in this situation, I think I'd start to panic a little. everything has always been the same - it's always been Frank and Julie. that's how it's supposed to be. Frank and Eddie, well that's just - that's just wrong! and if, at this hypothetical point in the story, things are tangibly starting to degrade/go wrong, Julie might cling even harder, panic even more.

you see where I'm going with this? what i meant with the flower symbolism and what it could point to?

their world is falling apart, and Julie's one constant - Frank, her best friend, her grumpy rock - is pulling away. for Eddie. the mailman. and so what if the jealous "lover" takes action? Julie can make things go back to normal. she needs Frank, and in her mind she's losing him, but she can't lose him. she can't. and maybe that little whisper of expectation that she can't hear but feels nonetheless, fuels this fire. it makes her feel justified, makes her feel the need to act and "correct" this. maybe if she gets rid of the distraction, Frank's love and attention will be hers once more.

i mean, people do insane things when they're under that much pressure. from current probably-horrible events, a loss of control in their own life, their closest person seemingly distancing themselves, subconscious pressure from societal expectation. especially when it comes to love - platonic or romantic. w/ Julie, i'm pretty sure it's platonic in regards to Frank. though she is bi, so you never know! could be both!

and maybe it won't be about Frank & Eddie, if any of this turns out to even a little right. maybe there's a factor I'm not considering or haven't seen yet. but i really do think that there are things pointing to it.

like yeah, the Concept Art linked above. the caption saying "liar", the specific species of flower, Julie holding it over her mouth as if keeping a secret, the hammer. not sure if the person standing over her is her primary puppeteer, an abstract, or something else (it seems cracked?) but that's not what this theory is about!

then there's the flower patch - both behind her in the concept art, and the one behind her house on the map. it's striking me now that the two look very similar. they have mostly the same flowers, even. blue/yellow/white/orange "daisies", some daffodils, what i think are roses (it's hard to tell specifics on the map). an odd choice to make them so similar (unless it's coincidence!).

when I first saw the patch, my immediate thought was "holy shit is that a body dump?!" bc it's oddly green compared to the rest of the map, it's placed at a noticeable distance behind Julie's house - as if it's supposed to be "hidden", and it's the lushest spot in the neighborhood. now, to provide a counterargument to my own claim: it could be very green because that's how things are shaded, it looks like it's at a distance from the house bc the map is 2D, and its the lushest spot bc Julie's all about flowers - also, i doubt flowers would spontaneously grow since we can assume none of them are real. it's a puppet world of props. but who knows.

(and okay this might or might not be relevant but we can assume Julie is the one who made the chalk drawings on the path, right? i think there's a spiral in front of her house. just making a note of it.)

and there's just how much "pressure" seems to be on Julie compared to the others. she doesn't match her house. she doesn't fit her "role" the way she's meant to. AND OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT - by the swingset, there's now a bowling ball and what looks like red scissors. idk about you guys but i associate scissors with Eddie. he's all about crafts, after all! now i'm really reaching but hey? murder weapon? Julie does seem fond of bowling balls... that's a perfect bludgeoning weapon to have on hand (in abundance!)

in conclusion, i just think Julie has major potential to do some deliciously fucked up stuff. in fact, i hope she does! it could be handled/done in an absolutely fascinating way, and could have intriguing consequences.

who knows, maybe i'm right about her trying to get rid of Eddie (not out of malice or anything, just fear & pressure), and there'll be a whole thing where he keeps on coming back, completely unaware that she tried to off him, bc he's a puppet and it's probably really tough to kill something that wasn't really alive in the first place. i mean, in This Observation post i made about some new map secrets, there's a strange window shine on the Post Office door that could be spelling out either "nexus" or "new us". that plus the apparent extra hands/faces behind the door... Eddie is quite accident prone. who's to say he's not used to being replaced by himself? it's not like he'd remember. or is that the reason his memory is bad? holy shit wait - no wait this is a tangent. sorry. this post is about Julie lmao maybe i'll make a different post for this Eddie Thought i just had bc ough. ough...

and also, before anyone tries to come at me - because there's always people who twist words to Start Shit or misinterpret/miss the point - i'm not saying that Julie is like... homophobic. or hates Eddie. or is a "jealous crazy-" just. yk? and if you think that, maybe reread the post. or take a reading comprehension class &lt;3

AS FOR THE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENING TO JULIE. this is based on Two things and also Vibes. this section will be mercifully short compared to the rest of this clusterfuck of a post

so in the Livestream Trivia doc compiled by @/theneighborhood watch, yes i'm referencing this again sorry, there's this tidbit:

that, plus This Artwork, which features Julie (they're her shoes!) standing at the edge of an apparent chasm (the edge of the set, i assume) paints an interesting hypothetical picture. maybe she wanders a little too far and falls off the edge of her world. maybe she discovers something and Wally has to do something he doesn't want to do, but "needs" to. hey, who knows. maybe she is gonna hurt / try to hurt someone, and in an attempt to save them / stop her, Wally pushes her - either accidentally or on purpose, either way the end result would be the same. now I'm just pulling things out of my ass so lets move on lmao

then there's the Unknown Record in the website's media section. i actually recorded the audio and sped it up - i'll post that video later - and it seems to be an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland. the only part of it i've been able to clearly pick out is "Alice found herself falling down.... down... down..." followed by, presumably Alice speaking - who's high pitched voice reminds me of Julie's. so that's another point in the Julie Goes Bye-Bye Via Rapid Descent theory. or just goes temporarily missing! it could be that the only relevant part of the above trivia tidbit is the "falling down a cavern", and not the "never seen again" part. but it could. be. both.

though! though. Clown has stated that if all the neighbors were to take on roles in Alice in Wonderland, Wally is the one who would be Alice. which follows his direct connection to the spiral/eye pit, and the phrase "down the rabbit hole". so it could be either or. it could be both! it could be neither! this is all speculation, which brings us to....

the end! we made it! i hope you're still carrying your Hefty grains of salt! soon you'll be able to fill a large chicken-shaped shaker with it all!

[kyliafanfiction]

Boiled down to an overly reductive binary, there's really two approaches people can take to 'spicy toxic problematicness' for a character.

Either it's the starting point for the character, or it's the ending point for the character.

That is, for some people, the real fun is in detangling a fucked up mess of a character and bringing them to some level of... if not 'okay', then at least 'more okay' compared to before. It's not about turning them into a fluffy harmless woobie that barely resembles themselves, all the rough edges filed off, but it definitely does ultimately involve them ending up somewhere more functional than they began.

For others, the toxicity is the goal, the draw, the end game. They want the characters to get... well, worse implies a moral judgement that doesn't always apply, but to borrow a phrase I heard someone use a few weeks ago, they probably want to accelerate a character's fucked-upness. That end point may involve them still being better off in terms of their lived daily reality, maybe even involve them hurting less people, or even helping people, but they're more fucked up than they were before, even if in different ways.

Obviously, this is, as I said, reductive, but separating out the two trendlines when it comes to fandoms for the kinds of characters or ships that attract this kind of binary can be hard, and can result in intrafannish issues, because people may tend to see one as the only acceptable approach, or at least the only form of approach that involves real appreciation for the character.

But neither one is solely valid, even insofar as this binary really holds water in lived reality.

Hard to keep in mind sometimes.

[romanoffsbish]

Method Acting

Scarlett Johansson x F!R

Request | When your friend gives you the leading role in her debut sapphic rom-com you find yourself elated, but then you see who her star-studded casting managed to be and suddenly you aren’t too sure what to do. How does one work with their crush in such intimate ways and not swoon further? | WC: 2,516

Smut: Masturbation (R) — Non-con 👀 (SJ) | Mommy (SJ) | Oral / Fingering (R) | Thigh-Riding (SJ) | Overstimulation (R)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Where'd all that confidence go, hm?" You gulped, not only to remain in character, but because Scarlett was literally hovering over your body and it was like the air around you'd thinned. Your head felt light, but you still managed to stutter out your line, "I-It was a r-ruse."

Bentley chuckled, "You know, I don't think I mind," then she lowered her smirking face into the crook of your neck, your breath dramatically hitched, and you threw your head back to give her the necessary space to leave behind her pale pink gloss for the camera to see.

——

This was meant to be acting, but she wasn't exactly not sucking a partial mark into your skin, fortunately it was hidden from any lens viewpoint, and it only really added to the scene as you moaned out affectedly.

"There you go Raina," she rasped against your cheek, smearing her collected spit and gloss on the skin. "I knew you'd be a perfect little dove for your mommy, you just needed me to help dumb you down, hm..."

You whimpered the title inquisitively, giving off the characters innocent girl aura as her lips clashed into yours, but deep in your soul you wanted to scream it.

Well, for the blonde starlet that is, Scarlett was nothing short of a goddess, her beauty perceivably effortless. It came with many perks, one of those being the ability to have people figuratively crumble before her. You had actually done so physically when you first shook her hand, it was embarrassing and she's teased you since.

When she wasn't teasing you though she was a natural nurturer. There was a calmness she brought to your anxious life that you were going to miss when filming inevitably comes to an end. Which was actually taking place this week, today you were working on the climax.

Bentley, her character, finally had a chance to corner Raina so that she could finally prove her love with the length of her fingers. Up until now your character had been avoiding Bentley as they were forced to see one another at the weekend long reception of a mutual.

Maritza, the director, screenwriter, and best friend of yours wanted the sex to feel real, so she is letting you two feel it out in a set of scenes. Scarlett appreciated the artistic creativity, because she wanted nothing more than to bring you to bliss, even if only fictionally as she knew the cameras were rolling. You genuinely liked the idea of an organic, sapphic scene too, but you just wished it could have been with any other actress.

Not the one you were recklessly falling in love with.

"Cut!" The director called after she felt there was enough tension, and kissing caught for the scene. She was also your very best friend, and knew you were likely spiraling beneath the surface; below Scarlett.

As soon as the director gave you the all clear for the night you took off without even sparing the blonde a glance. Months on this set with her and she'd teased you every step of the way, playing on your obvious crush, the one you'd publicized just a year ago.

"Y/N, who's your celebrity crush?" It was an easy question to answer, and since you were such a newcomer in the acting world it felt harmless to give them one, "Scarlett Johansson, she is just so gorgeous, and that voice of hers is just, ugh, don't even get me started." Or so you thought. Because not even three months later did you find out she'd be playing the love interest in this low-budget, cheesy sapphic rom-com.

The blonde was absolutely ecstatic when she got the script in her email because it came with your name attached. This was your closest friend's script, so you were given the lead without any issues, except for the casting. Without you ever knowing she took a shot in the dark by sending it to the woman who'd grown interested in you the moment she saw you in that interview. When you got the casting news you were mortified, and the blonde used that to her advantage.

There was no denying you meant it when she arrived on set for the chemistry read through, you were a bit of a stuttering mess—true to the character, but it was clear to the blonde that you were just being yourself. Scarlett played the part a bit too well, but she still kept it hidden that she desired you too. Until tonight she'd believed it was never going to go anywhere, but then you moaned in her ear and she realized it had to.

You weren't the only one affected by the small scene.

Scarlett was outside your trailer, her fingers flexed against the chill of the air as she prepared herself to knock on your door. It was Thursday night, normally she would go home, but she knew you were staying on the lot to cut costs so she felt compelled to stop by.

Without an answer she took it upon herself to open the door, noting her worry as the excuse for why she did. When she entered the trailer she was overwhelmed by a heady scent, and as she turned the corner to find you with your hand buried between your legs she'd found the delightful source. Scarlett said nothing as her body leaned against the wall, eyes focused in on the way your puffy lips devoured three of your fingers whole.

"Scarlett..."

The blonde's eyes snapped up to your face, fearing that she'd been caught, but it proved to be the other way around as you moaned her name upon releasing.

"My character's name is Bentley," she cooly teased, startling you into yelping and scrambling to grab the blanket that had bunched up by the end of your bed. Scarlett beat you to it, taking a predatory leap forward so that she could keep you from hiding your body. "None of that baby girl, don't hide from me now."

"S-Scar," you breathlessly muttered her name, or better yet part of it as she cupped your jaw and kissed you into a state of stunned silence. "Let's practice our scene for tomorrow darling, make it extra authentic."

"I-I don't think—." Scarlett slipped her thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your teeth to still you. "Oh, pretty girls like you should never try to think."

When she released her grip on your mouth she'd forcefully pushed you back onto the mattress, making your body bounce and driving your mind into madness all while she slipped out of her sweatsuit. The arousal you'd already felt doubled in intensity, mind alit with the endless possibilities for how this could go. Your mouth slowly filled with saliva as she sauntered closer to you while only dressed in her expensive lingerie set.

"You're so beautiful," you softly acknowledged and she offered you a genuine smile in return. Her lips gently pressed to yours as soon as she climbed over you and you both melted at the touch. "Thank you angel."

Scarlett took her time with kissing you, she didn't even move to deepen it until she felt your slick on her skin.

"I'm going to devour you Raina," she winked playfully and you met her tease with a smile that warmed her heart. "Make my dreams come true then Bentley."

Something about hearing her characters name didn't sit well with her, even if she had started the play on words, joking shoved aside she needed you to know this was more than a over the top scene preparation.

Scarlett pulled your body down the mattress by your ankles, throwing your legs open she took in a big whiff as her nose nuzzled into your plush thigh. "It seems I'll be making both of ours come true," she laboredly breathed against your slick cunt, "Just as long as you know there's no copyright on Scarlett," she winked and husked as your eyes widened, "Scream it for me Y/N."

"Oh Scarlett," you cried as soon as her tongue firmed itself against your folds, a long, drawn out moan left her as she tasted your glorious slick for the first time. The both of you were immensely pleased, your body began to squirm the more you felt your orgasm build. Her arm had to lay against your abdomen to hold you down so that her tongue could lash at you unchecked.

Your pleasure was entirely under her control, and the thought alone had the both of you teetering over the edge, ready to fall further into one another. Scarlett was unsure how that was even possible though, she'd loved you after a month into the filming, on a night when cast and crew rented out the local bar and she actually went regardless of her star power status. It was the only time you'd talked to her so openly, the booze in your system dropped your nerves and you let her hear all of your hometown childhood stories.

There was a twinkle of purity in your eye that she found refreshing that night, but this new glossy look you wore was far more enticing to the blonde starlet.

You looked almost peaceful, but beneath the surface you were absolutely losing your mind. Her masterful tongue was showing your fingers up in real time, your hot slick flowing out of you as if you were a leaking faucet, slowly dripping down from her chin and settling atop of the exposed skin of her bare breasts.

Which only made her move with more efficiency, her tongue slowly curled inside of you, caressing your g-spot as the tip of her nose pressed into your clit and you lost control of your every sense. Gasping for air as pleasure coursed through your trembling form, blurry white stars filled your vision as your eyes crossed and the taste of something metallic coated your tongue as you harshly bit down on your lower lip before you were screaming incoherently, her name sinfully intermixed.

You felt her smirk against your thigh and couldn't help but to smile yourself as you felt her kiss up your body with a softness that transcended all prior carnality. There was this break in the tension as she tenderly locked her lips to yours, tongues dancing around the other as her hands anchored to your chest, fondling the malleable skin as if it was second nature. Soft whines reverberated into her mouth the longer that she played with your sensitive breasts as she kissed you dumb.

Eventually the blonde felt this intense urge to satiate her own body, so she pulled back and you whimpered. "Fuck, you're so hot Y/N," she groaned as she stared at you, so beautifully spaced out, the thin line of spit tethering your lips together snapped as she grinned.

"You know, you're my celebrity crush too," she teased, finding amusement in the way you tried to shimmy away from her, but her hands firmly pressed down, keeping your body stilled by her grip on your breasts.

"Don't try and run now darling," she purred against your neck, her face having dipped down so that she could finish the job she started during your shoot.

"Scar, th-the movie," you warned but she simply didn't care, the woman chuckled against your skin, "Oh love, you know as well as I do that make up can cover this, plus, this is really just us aiding the film, you know?"

Scarlett continued on bruising your soft skin with her teeth as you couldn't, nor did you really want to, find a reason to dissuade her from her current ministrations. Just as soon as she was satisfied with her hard work she flipped you onto your stomach without warning.

A low moan left the both of you as her cunt touched down, your body shivered as her slick smeared onto the back of your thigh, the idea that you'd turned her on that much hadn't even permeated your mind until now and with the physical evidence you felt powerful. Even if she was on top, you aided her by tensing your muscles to which she rewarded you with a hoarse moan and two fingers that slid between your slick lips.

The both of your bodies moved in steamy tandem, your front being pressed further into the mattress with every rough thrust of her fingers and hips. The room soon became a lewd symphony as your skin slapped together and the both of your slick seeped and spread, all working to drown out your soft, choked moans.

With her free hand no longer on your hip you were thrown further into the depths of pleasure as her palm roughly pressed down on your abdomen just as her fingers reached your depth, your body jerked but she just kept going down until she could play with your clit.

"Mommy," you screamed the desired honorific, it almost sounded like a plea for mercy, but the blonde had none to show you, she instead slid a third finger into your core causing you to spasm uncontrollably. Which in turn tensed your muscles up even further, and sent her into a state of immense bliss, her teeth instinctively sunk into your shoulder and drew blood.

Her body had arched back then dropped to the side of yours in a matter of seconds, her fingers stayed buried within your warmth, almost like a place of comfort. It took you far longer than her to regain your composure as this was actually your fifth orgasm of the evening. The other two having happened before she caught you.

Nevertheless, you were able to form a sentence as you felt her fingers vacate your pussy, "W-what was this?"

Scarlett had been shifting to a place of comfort when your disconcerting question was aired, you caught her completely off guard but upon settling her cheek down on your bare ass she hummed softly in thought. Then as she really thought about it, imagining a future where you'd part ways after filming ended, she frowned.

"You're mine," she tiredly growled against the sweaty skin of your ass, her teeth nibbled at the round flesh as she gave you her answer (demand). "Then, now, the point is you'll always be mine Y/N so get comfortable."

"I'm plenty comfortable," you murmured, words a bit muffled as your face burrowed into your silky pillow. Scarlett smiled to herself, her heart officially settled now that she knows you understood; you were hers, this sinful endeavor was her official sealing of a deal.

Her worn down body sidled up by your side, still her strong arm wrapped around your midsection so that she could pull you close enough for her to feel your body against hers. "Goodnight baby girl, I think we've done enough work to ensure the scene will be a hit..."

—

When tomorrow came, and the scene was shot you two found it only took one go as the sexual chemistry was palpable. Maritza had winked, and mouthed a 'your welcome' thinking that you'd just won the blonde over, but unbeknownst to her this was just an encore...

Or as the sapphics would simply call it, round two.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 14 - Speed, I am Speed

WE'VE MADE IT TO THE 2024 SEASON. IT IS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!

When I started this fanfic, I never would have thought that people would be interested in it enough for it to get past the first few chapters. But everyone has proved me wrong! Here's to a great fictional season!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN - 6 SPOTS LEFT!

Screams echoed through the paddock as whispers of your arrival seeped through the cracks of the buildings. The drivers watched with smiles as crowds of girls, boys, and adults alike flooded the entrance area to maybe catch of glimpse of you. Only a select few would be lucky enough to get a signature or for you to even take what they offered. But that didn’t damped the electric atmosphere that was quickly building. 

The moment you scanned your card and stepped through the turn-style, all hell broke loose.

Max stood next to Christian in the garage that was placed in the middle. The Ferrari garage was to the right, and McLaren sat to the left. 

“Quite popular. Isn’t she?” a stray mechanic commented as he worked on one of the RB20s. 

Christian only smirked. “She’s great for the media that’s for sure.” 

Max stepped through the entrance to wait for you. He was already in his Red Bull kit with a signature can in his grasp. He watched as you quickly signed multiple things and stopped to take few pictures. He noticed that you really only stood still for the squirming kids who really looked nervous to be next to you. 

You were hastily ushered farther into the paddock as you were a tad bit late. The outfit you had on was similar to Max. Jeans adorned your legs while a Red Bull polo was hidden behind your famous blue bomber jacket. Dark red sneakers completed the look. A winter flavored red bull sat comfortably in your hand. You had talked to Max about how the flavor was far superior than his preferred original. He would only eyeroll and then sip his own can. 

A bright smile shone on your face as the cameras clicked around you. Video cameras followed your every move. 

Lando and Charles had joined Max. They too were in their respective Ferrari and McLaren kits. The bright orange clashed with the bright red, while Max was the neutral navy between. Some cameras were pointed their way hoping to get a few shots of a not so common friendship and a decade old rivalry turned friendship. Yet, the trio’s attention was all on you. 

You had finally gotten to the garage. However, you completely missed the three and walked right in, excited to greet your mechanics, Christian, pit crew, and Mitch. The one thing the crew all liked about you was that you made sure to try to say hello and check in with how they were doing. 

You had surprised everyone with coffees or other drinks for preseason testing as a way to share your appreciation. 

As you went around the garage, you gave a quick side hug to Christian and then walked over to Mitch. Your eyes lit up at the sight of another familiar figure next to your strategist. You stood and talked to the two. 

While you stood there, completely oblivious to the three men standing outside, they of course didn’t miss anything.  

Lando stood there with open eyes. “Did she just walk right past us?” 

Max just continued to be unbothered and sipped his drink. 

Charles had a familiar knowing look in his eyes. “Who is she talking to mate?” 

The British driver scoffed and waved his hand. “Her strategist.” 

The Dutchman sighed before maneuvering the papaya man to a better angle. 

“Can you see now?” The driver in red questioned as he smirked at the now visible scene. 

“Oh.” 

The three stared as you talked to your best friend, who was now clad in a Sky Sports polo and khaki pants. You threw your head back as you laughed at something the younger Monegasque had said. Mitch also chuckled where she stood. 

Finally, your head turned and eyes made contact with steel blue ones. Your smile somehow got even bigger at the sight of the Dutchman and you other friends. You said something short to the two around you. Arthur gave you a side hug before he ducked out the side entrance, probably going to get ready for the driver’s parade. You’d hope that he was the one to interview you. 

You were now making your way to the other three drivers. Your maroon Red Bull was still in your hands. 

“Top of the afternoon to you gentlemen,” you spoke in a posh accent. Lando rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up that was a good impression. You’re just a hater.” 

“As if. You live there now, you could at least learn how to properly speak.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You barely live there anyway now. You should be talking like Charles if you expect me to be able to finesse a British accent.” 

“Oh so now I have to speak in some hoity toity French accent?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused Charles.” 

“Stay out of this Max.” 

“Ladies, ladies, you’re all pretty, but let’s save the fighting for the track,” a new voice that was attached to one Oscar Piastri sounded as he walked up to the four of you. 

“What’s up pastry?” you asked him. “And where is your better half?” Your eyes ran wild around the paddock. 

“Uh who?” 

“You know? The smell of gunpowder and the cry of eagles follow him where ever he walks?” 

Oscar sent you a deadpan look and sighed like a middle-aged dad. He turned just a bit to show the bright blue suit that belonged to the American Williams driver. He was looking at an iPad before he suddenly sensed five pairs of eyes on him. He looked up, grinned stupidly, and waved. You were glad to wave back, while the four men waved small ones. 

“He’s such an iPad kid.” 

“So are you,” Max finally. You squawked like a bird as you stared at him.

“If I’m one, so is Lando. Mr. I play Fortnite all the time.” 

Charles was done with your bickering. “Oscar did you need something?” 

The Aussie looked so done with everything, but perked up at the question. “Yes. Zach sent me to fetch Lando. We need to get ready for the parade.” 

A look of enlightenment crossed over both Lando and Charles’s faces as they said quick goodbyes before turning to go back to their own garages. That left you and Max to stand out in the open. He closed the gap between you and wrapped an arm around you. At that motion, multiple cameras clicked but the two of you didn’t care. 

“Are you ready for today?” he asked as the two of you walked into the garage where you’d be escorted to the parade. 

“Yep! I mean, you’re starting pole and I’m starting P6, so we’ll see what happens.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug.

“Kid that’s good for your first race.” 

“I know. I think I thought that I’d be higher up.” 

Max squeezed you a little tighter. “You just have to worry about overtaking George, Lewis, and Lando. Once you get them, you could be forecast for a podium.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’d be happy with just staying in the points.” 

Christian clapped the your backs as you passed him to line up in the back for the parade. You found a small corner of the room to just sit in. Your headphones had been given to you in your garage, and classical piano music filled the speakers. You knew you probably looked so anti-social right now, but you didn’t care. You needed to find your calm before the storm hit. 

Many drivers didn’t even send you a second glance, yet one found himself on the floor next to you. The Monegasque’s cologne filled your nostrils as you put your head on his shoulder. You flashed him a thankful grin as you showed your phone screen. 

MON23 was the song that was currently flooding your headphones. Charles rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. Max was the one to come get the two of you once the signal was given that the parade was about to start. You and Max walked out together, and there was Arthur, ready with his microphone. 

He turned to the camera that was in front of you. “I am joined by Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n. Thank you for joining me, even if you didn’t have a choice.” 

Max and you let out a laugh at the comment. 

He continued. “So we saw some domination from the RB20 in the free practices with you Max snatching P1, P2, and then P3 respectively and then taking Pole Position for the first race of 2024. How is the car handling this year and do you expect the same amount of untouchable-ness as last year?” 

The Dutchman leaned into the microphone, while you stood next to him waving at the spectators. 

“Yeah, well we saw that the Ferraris and McLarens were going to be close after the preseason testing. I was glad that I was able to take pole. I know this one,” he pointed at you which made your attention shift to the conversation, “was wanting a higher position. But the car is fantastic, yet I think that it’ll be a closer year.” 

Arthur looked happy with the question as he turned to you. 

“So Y/n, we know you’re starting P6. What are you plans for that?” 

You huffed as you now talked into the microphone. “Well I plan to just fight as hard as I can. I know that Max and I have very different strategies today. But, overall we just want to bring as many points to get a jump start on the Constructors.” 

You were given a nod from some personelle signaling that it was time to wrap thing up. 

Arthur turned back to the camera. “Well thank you both for your time and best of luck!” 

The two of you were led to a car with an open top. Thankfully for this time, you and Max would be together. Funny enough, they told you to drive. Your eyes widened so much when they handed the keys to you. 

You kept turning around asking if this information was correct. Max was just sitting in the car laughing. You climbed in and turned the car on. Once the parade started, you pushed the gas pedal and the car started to move. 

The lap around the track was a nice one. Max and you made small talk while waving to the crowds who seemed to yell louder when your attention was turned to them. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in your race suit and helmet in your hand, going over your race strategy one more time with Mitch. 

She explained it once more. “So by turn one, you need to be up at least two places. You need to get the jump on George, Lando, and Lewis. They tend to go inside, so going wide will be your best friend even if it seems tricky. You're faster than they are. Try to get up to Max who can give you a tow if needed. And kid?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Just have fun. Points are points. You don’t need a podium to show your worth.” 

You nodded at her revelation and put your balaclava on. Arthur had somehow snuck in to do your handshake beforehand. He knew that it would calm you down just a bit. You slipped your helmet on and connected the different wires. With one foot over the car and the other following suit, you quickly adjusted your race suit before slipping down into the car. One of the mechanics put the screen on the nose for you to go over data and tyre degradation one more time. Your eyes flickered across the screen before it was taken away and your car was pushed out. 

At that time, you put your visor down. Your fingers touched where your lips would have been without your helmet and rose to the air. A second ritual you would call it – a special motion for your godfather. 

Starting Grid:

Max Verstappen 

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton 

Lando Norris 

George Russel 

Y/n L/n 

Oscar Piastri

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz 

Alex Albon 

Lance Stroll 

Logan Sargeant 

 Pierre Gasly 

Yuki Tsonda 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Esteban Ocon 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen

Valtteri Bottas  

Nico Hulkenberg 

They put your car on the P6 grid mark and stayed near with the tyre covers. The five guys smiled as you began to move about, nerves making it hard to stay still. Your eyes closed and a smile made its way to your lips. 

“Speed. I am speed. One winner, nineteen losers. I eat losers for breakfast.” 

“Kid, you know the radio is on right?” 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Mitch’s voice. 

“Uh now I do.” 

Her chuckle came through the speakers in your headphones that where under all the face layers.

“At least we know the radio is working.” 

One of the men must have gotten the signal because the tire covers came off and everyone who wasn’t a driver fled the scene. Up ahead, you noticed Max start to drive off. After him was Charles, then Lewis, then Lando, then George. And now it was your turn. Using the pedals, you gently eased your car into movement. You were starting on softs. The team had let you know that you were going for a three stop strategy. Softs, hards, then finish the race on softs. Max was going for the soft, soft, and then hards. 

The team were hoping that by putting you on the softs, you’d be able to help Max with the last stint of the race. Softs were your specialty, especially used softs. So the last bit of the race should be your fastest.

Your formation lap consisted of weaving back and forth, warming the tyres up and getting them ready to grip the track. Once you were back in your spot, you were careful not to go over the line and stay in the half box. Your eyes shifted up to watch the lights. 

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

Blink. 

Your feet hit the pedals before your mind even comprehended. Your head swerved back and forth to look at your mirrors. Behind you, there was the dark green Aston Martin of Fernando Alonso and the other papaya colored McLaren of Oscar. However, the beginning of this track was a giant straight. 

With tyres still warm, you quickly got into George’s slip stream and made your move. 

For the viewers everywhere, Croft’s voice rang out. 

“And it’s lights out and away we go! 

"Max Verstappen gets the upper hand on Charles Leclerc on that initial jump but Leclerc is not giving up just yet. 

"There goes the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton right behind Charles Leclerc as they go into the first corner of this race. Seems like Leclerc was able to keep his position.  

"Oh! And around the outside is Y/n L/n getting the jump on both George Russell and Lando Norris! An overtake on the outside is really tricky but she has made it work for her favor.  This rookie is making moves right out the bat. 

"I see we have some congestion in the back. Looks like the Haas of Kevin Magnussen has found the side of Alfa Romeo of Valtteri Bottas. 

"Let’s have a replay of that beginning shall we? We’ll start onboard with our rookie.”

The camera is on your car as the viewers can see the lights go out and your car lurches forward at the start. Your head swivels as it seems like you’re making sure not to hit the Aston or McLaren that were behind you.

But once you found George Russell’s slip stream, your head stayed straight as you exited to the left of George to go around the outside of both the Mercedes and Lando’s McLaren. As your RB20 continued forward George and Lando quickly left your camera’s view as you now had seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton in your sights. 

“And what a great overtake that was on L/n’s part. Let’s head back to see that little kiss between the Alfa and Haas.” 

You had now found yourself right behind the Mercedes. Yes, they possibly had the faster car, but you had the pace. 

And you were gaining. 

You pressed the radio button. “Gap to Hamilton?” 

Mitch was quick to respond. “Two point three-seven behind. But you’re gaining two tenths a lap. Keep it up.” 

“Thank you.” 

In the next nine laps, you were right behind him. 

“What is the gap to Leclerc after I get around Hamilton? 

“Five seconds. But we will pit before you get there. You have about five laps left before tyre degradation gets too terrible. Use three to get around him and two to widen the gap.” 

“Perfect.”

Yet, in about two laps you were right on his tail. Using DRS, you were able to get him on turns 14 and 15 as the DRS was coming to an end. 

“And it looks like Y/n L/n is about to make her move on Lewis Hamilton! She goes wide once more on turn 14 and cuts him off by going deep into turn 15, does she have it? 

"She does! What a move!” 

You fly down the straight with Lewis trying to get back ahead of you. Yet, you were quick with the defensive moves. 

“Hamilton is not giving up that spot. Will he be able to take it back at the corner of turn one? He does not gain the position back and has to be fine with fourth for now.” 

“Good job. Keep it up.” 

“I’m trying,” your voice rattled. In three laps you were called into the pits. 

“Looks like Red Bull is calling L/n into the pits for her first stop. Now drivers are losing about 15 seconds so this will put her down back to P8 right after the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz who has gained to positions since the start 14 laps ago. 

"And that is a 2.0 second pit stop. Phenomenal for Red Bull whose pit crew seemed to be bored this winter break.” 

“Good stop. Can you let the boys know?” 

“On it kid.” 

“Looks like L/n wants a message relayed to the crew. What a sweetheart she is.” 

You apparently were the first one to start the pit stop train, because either one, two, or three laps later the pits were full with cars coming in and out. Like strategy, you were now on hards. Yes, they weren’t your preference but, you needed to change the tyre type at least once during the race: it was mandatory.

You somehow were leading the Bahrain Grand Prix. For about the second half. 

Surprisingly, Max had gotten overtaken by Charles right out of the pit exit. You knew you needed to extend the gap between you and the Monegasque Driver, so that you and Max could pit at the same time. 

By the 37 lap, you were calling in your radio. 

“I need to box. Left tyre is almost dead.” 

“Got it. Max is in a good position as well so you will come in and Max will follow. Stay focused.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Looks like the Red Bulls are coming in to box. And who is that as well? Charles Leclerc follows Max Verstappen inside. But there is a significant gap as L/n is already leaving the Bull area with new tyres and Verstappen is getting fixed as well. Leclerc will have to have a perfect pit stop to at least catch up to the two. 

"And that is a rather slow stop for Ferrari with a 3.2 second stop. Will this be the mistake that leads to yet another Red Bull 1-2?” 

You and Max bolted out of the pit exit once it was safe to do so and you were over the line. You were told to keep giving him the tow for a couple of laps since you were now on the softs while Max was on the hards. 

However, after a couple of laps, something seemed off. 

You pressed you radio. “It feels like the tyres are wearing down a lot more. Do we have something for that? I could make it to the end, but I might get overtaken.” 

“We’re checking. Just keep being nice on the corners. Max has been given the go ahead to overtake you. GP will tell him about your tyres and he should help you keep going.” 

“Is this the moment that the Bulls will switch? We know that they’d like to keep their champion at the front as soon as possible. Ah, there it is. Nice pass on the straight going into the fourth corner.” 

GP came on over Max’s radio. 

“Max, Y/n’s tyres are degrading faster than expected. I’ll keep you updated but she will fall out of DRS or any tow help in about five laps.” 

“Are we sure there isn’t anything else to do?” 

“Positive. You just keep going. She said that she’s going to try to fend off Leclerc who is gaining 2 tenths per lap but is 3 seconds behind Y/n with 10 more laps to go.” 

Max watched you fall out of help-range in the predicted 5 laps. He could catch glimpses of you when he slowed down on the corners but that was about it. All he focused on now was being the first one across the checkered flag. 

You were coping brilliantly. By going slower around the corners you were slowing down the tyre deg but also slowing down Charles.

“Gap to Charles and then Max please?” 

“Gap to Max is about nine seconds now. And Charles is still gaining and is now in DRS so watch out on the corners.” 

“Got it. My tyres are done for and I have no grip. Might be safer to let him pass. I don’t want to pull a George Russell 2023 Singapore.” 

“Focus.” 

Well, you didn’t thundercunt yourself into a wall, but on the first corner of the last lap, you had a lock up.

“That is a bad lockup for the Red Bull rookie and there goes Leclerc, taking advantage of the small mistake. Props to Y/n though for handling the car well and getting it back on track.”  

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed as your car went wide allowing Charles to slip by. “Sorry for the language.” 

You turned your radio off, a bit embarrassed and annoyed at yourself, not wanting to hear Mitch’s reply. 

You tried desperately to catch back up but it was no use. Your tyres were done as you crossed the finish line in third place. You quickly turned your radio back on. 

“And good job Kid with points, third place, and a podium on your first race. Congrats.” 

“Aaahhhhh thank you team! This was an experience for sure and I can’t wait for the next one! Sorry for that lock up, we’ll get them next time.” Your hand stuck out the top to wave as you drove significantly slower.  

“Wasn’t your fault kid. We’ll go over in debrief. Enjoy the celebration, you earned it.” 

Max had already parked in the first place spot as he got out of the RB20. He turned and expected to see you in the second place spot, but was a bit disappointed when he saw his childhood rival. His heart sank for a bit as he thought you might have been overtaken more than once. But his spirits rose when he saw your RB20 pull into the third place. 

He watched as you stood on the nose and lifted your arms up in celebration, put one down, and keep the other raised with a fist clenched as you brought it down sharply. He knew the cameras were eating it up. 

If his history knowledge was correct, and it usually was, you were the first woman since Lella Lombardi to score points, but were the first one to get on the podium.

You were making history.

And the people were eating it up. Your name was heard above everyone’s. He would meet you in the cool down room. 

He was escorted over to the weighing station where he stood for a few moments before going over to the cool down room. He was soon joined by Charles. The two stood like middle-aged dads who were watching their neighbors mow their lawn and silently judging them as they watched the recaps. The main one was your first overtake around the outside. 

“Dang she’s quick in that car.” 

Max nodded. “Her simulator times were a bit faster than me during testing.” 

“I don’t know how then I got around her. Seemed like she was just falling behind the last five laps.” 

“My tyres were degrading too quickly and were basically done by the time I crossed the finish line.” You walked into the room, sweat glistening on your forehead where your hair also stuck. Although you hadn’t gotten your second place, third place was still impressive. A smile was probably permanently stuck on your face now. 

Max held his arms open for a hug and you dove right in. His hands rubbed up and down your back. Your gaze was now turned to the TV where you watched Lando and Lewis dance for multiple turns before Lewis finally took P4 on the second to last lap. 

Charles brought you into a quick hug and kissed your forehead. You wanted to talk some more, but you had been queued to go up to the podiums. You went out first, Charles followed, and then Max. You stood still as the Dutch anthem rung, followed by the Austrian. 

And now it was your favorite part. Your grabbed your bottle and shook it, before hauling it up on your shoulder like you always did. 

The "champagne cannon" as people liked to call it. You showered the older drivers with the sticky liquid, but was quickly turned against and sprayed as well. You then walked over to the banister and sprayed the team below. 

When your bottle was finished you picked up your trophy and made your way down to celebrate with Red Bull. 

You quickly found Mitch and gave her a giant hug like you had done once you got out of your car earlier. Christian also gave you a big hug and told you how proud he was of you. 

The night for you didn’t last much longer as the adults had said that they were going out to a club to celebrate. You were a bit saddened to hear that you couldn’t come with, being on the podium and all. But, your time would come. 

And instead of celebrating, you changed out of your suit and fire proofs and got into comfier clothing. However, you couldn’t stop yawning. 

Thinking that Mitch, Christian, or Max would come get you to leave, you lied down on your small bed in your drivers room. An alarm was not set. 

Your eyes closed and you fell asleep soon after. Dreams of first place danced behind your eyelids. 

You’d get there if it was the last thing you’d do. 

skysportsf1 has posted

skysportsf1 we are excited to introduce our main interviewer line up for the 2024 season. David Croft will still lead our main commentary, but we welcome Nico Rosberg, new-comer Arthur Leclerc, and Jensen Button to our team!

liked by formula1_fan, y/n.89, charles_leclerc, y/nxarthur, and 22,830 others

formula1_fan YEESSS so happy to see this trio! maybe we'll actually have good interviews now

y/nxarthur this is just fueling the delulu

leclercbros4life so happy to see Arthur still involved in Formula 1

change_ur_f-car I know right! I would have thought he'd given up charles-marry_ME now he can be near Charles and Y/n all the time y/n-is_my-romanempire I mean, I would have liked it to be Arthur Leclerc "Y/n L/n's Partner" but we'll get there

y/n.89 THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE! WHOO!!!!!!!!!!!

landonorris I think you missed an exclamation mark maxverstappen1 I thought I was your best friend arthur_leclerc sorry mate, but I was here first oscarpiatri he would like to be more tho *this comment was deleted* y/n.nation UH HELLO????

arthur_leclerc thank you for this amazing opportunity!

arthur-4lifers baby boy is BACK

sebastianvettel good to see you here kid! can't wait for the future

f1_fanatic this seems suspicious

RedBullRacing has posted

redbullracing a phenomenal start to the 2024 season with an RB 1-3! See you all in Jeddah!

liked by y/n-on-top, lestappenlove, logansargeant, and 93,822 others

y/n.nation YEAH PODIUM AND POINTS FOR OUR ROOKIE

box_box_offical I totally see her breaking Hamilton's rookie year in points - place your bets here ladies and gents

charles_leclerc glad to share a podium with Max and Y/n, but tell them to watch out next race

y/n.89 yeah, we'll be watching you...in our mirrors as you eat our dust maxverstappen1 what she said

emotional_support_rivals loved the lestappen moment, y/n is their kid at this point

y/n.89 whose last name would I take? maxverstappen1 mine charles_leclerc mine y/n.89 you're both wrong, I'm taking Geri's :) arthur_leclerc hyphenate?

maxiel-lover that start, middle, and finish were just the best

y/n's_version I will have a new Roman Empire every weekend at this point

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 race one of freshman year in the books! first woman since lella to gain some points and first woman to stand on any step on the podium. next stop - the number one spot

liked by martagarcialopez19, liakblock, kellypiquet, and 73,209 others

martagarcialopez19 my hero and role model everyone!

liakblock mine too! y/n.89 gonna cry :(

iamred_iamyellow literally number 1 driver, max get out of the way

redbullracing ROOKIE! ROOKIE! ROOKIE!

y/n.89 ADMIN! ADMIN! ADMIN!

arthur_leclerc favorite girl *liked by y/n.89*

landonorris I'll get you next time

y/n.89 surreeee

hE_tUrned_inTo_mE this was one of the best opening races ever, that double overtake around the outside was amazing

y/n_updates this race is going in the history books

Race Stats:

Max Verstappen 

Charles Leclerc  +3.583

Y/n L/n  +1.264

Lewis Hamilton  +2.840

Lando Norris + fastest lap +1.264  

Carlos Sainz +1.830

George Russell +2.375

Oscar Piastri +4.284

Alex Albon +3.001

Fernando Alonso +2.904

Logan Sargeant +1.992

Lance Stroll +5.932

Pierre Gasly +6.200

Daniel Ricciardo +1.209

Yuki Tsunoda +2.092

Esteban Ocon +3.871

Zhou Guanyu +6.997

Nico Hulkenberg +8.287

Valtteri Bottas – DNF 

Kevin Magnussen – DNF 

Driver's Championship Standings:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points 

Y/n L/n – 15 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points 

Lando Norris – 11 points 

Carlos Sainz – 8 points 

George Russell – 6 points 

Oscar Piastri – 4 points 

Alex Albon – 2 points 

Fernando Alonso – 1 point 

Logan Sargeant – 0 points 

Lance Stroll – 0 points  

Pierre Gasly – 0 points   

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points   

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points  

Esteban Ocon – 0 points   

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points   

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points   

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points   

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points  

Constructor’s Championship Standings 

Red Bull – 40 points 

Ferrari – 26 points 

Mercedes – 18 points 

McLaren – 16 points 

Williams – 2 points 

Aston Martin – 1 point 

Racing Bulls – 0 points 

Alpha Romeo – 0 points 

Haas – 0 points 

Alpine – 0 points  

If you want a continuation, read this chapter of Besties for the Resties!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @mellowarcadefun

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

thanks for you request!! I’m SO SO SO sorry it took me so long to complete, there has been so many edits and rewrites and start overs but anyways, here is the final product, I’m praying it doesn’t disappoint. my motivation has not been there lately… anyways I gave it a go, hope you enjoy 🤍🤍

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: your avery’s best friend and she’s suddenly been thrown into a world that isn’t her own and she needs you… but in going to support your best friend, you don’t expect a certain someone to take you interest

warnings: mild swearing and mentions of the reader having a dead father

a/n: this is set mid the first inheritance games book, timelines may clash a little but work with me please 😭😭

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

“I go on holiday for two weeks and of course that’s when everything blows up,” I exclaimed over the phone.

Avery was down the other end. I’d practically just stepped foot back in my house after fourteen glorious days in Europe and just about had time to fling my suitcase to the corner of my room before I straight away called her. How did I miss everything?! Pretty much as soon as the plane touched down back in America my phone practically blew up with messages and calls and news alerts. Suddenly my best friend’s face was all over TV and I had a billion DMs from people I’d never even talked to before.

“Timing is impeccable as always,” Avery laughed.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Screw jet lag, this was way more important. We had the longest conversation I think I’ve ever had in my whole lifetime. She told me all about the will of this mysterious Tobias Hawthorne and the people involved. She explained how she’d been flown all the way out to Texas and was now required to live in Hawthorne house for at least a year where basically the whole family resided. Including four of Tobias’s scarily hood looking and intelligent grandsons.

“I can’t lie, this all sounds like it’s been plucked right out of a novel,” I said.

“42.6 billion dollars,” she confirmed, “what gets more fictional than that?”

“Ave this is crazy,” I replied, eyes as wide as saucepans.

“I can’t believe it,” she responded with a long sigh.

“You’re literally a billionaire,” I murmured. Saying it out loud made it even more real, even more shocking.

“I never thought I’d hear anyone say that out loud,” she said, then she sighed again,“I just can’t work out why I inherited it, I mean over his family it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well what did his grandsons have to say?” I asked.

“One thinks it’s a game of sorts, like a puzzle,” she explained, “their grandfather used to give them puzzles when they were younger and he thinks I’m the final one.”

“Are you okay?” I questioned suddenly, feeling guilty I hadn’t asked her right away,

“Yeah I’m fine,” she exhaled, “I’m a billionaire right?”

“No, I mean are you really okay?” I clarified, “because if it were me I know I wouldn’t be.”

“I think I’m okay,” she replied, hesitating a little.

“Avery,” I sang in an accusing tone.

She laughed a little and then, “I don’t know how to feel about any of this,” she sighed, “god I wish you were here.”

“Then I’ll come,” I blurted out, the instinct too prominent to ignore.

“What?” she gaped, as I pictured her with a hanging jaw.

“I’ll come to wherever you are, seen as you can’t come to me,” I replied, “that is if you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, “but that’s a long trip for you and-“

“I don’t care about any of that,” I interrupted her before she went off on a selfless tangent, “seeing you is going to make whatever I have to do to get there worth it.”

“You’re an angel, a real life angel,” she whispered and I could hear the smile in her voice.

I laughed, “see you as soon as possible, I have a plane ticket to book.”

“Wait,” she told me suddenly, making me jump a little, “I’m paying.”

“Avery-“ I said, attempting to begin to decline.

“No, you can’t even decline because I’m a billionaire,” she snapped before I could even say no, “heck I could buy you the whole plane if I wanted.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” I pressed further.

“Let me buy the ticket, it’s the least I can do,” she said, “and I’m getting Oren to pick you up from the airport.”

My mind flicked back to her explanation, the name sounded familiar. It took a few minutes for it to finally come to me, “Isn’t that bodyguard?”

“He’s the only one I’d trust with your life,” Avery explained.

“God Ave, you make it sound like I’m going to get shot,” I attempted to joke.

“I really need to be cautious at the moment,” she said, warning in her voice, “this whole billionaire business is not as glamorous as it seems.”

“Oh Avery,” I murmured sympathetically, “I’ll be there to hear every last drop in a few hours, okay?”

“Thank you,” she said, he tone thick with gratitude, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

***

Next thing I knew I was on a first class flight to Texas at three AM in the morning. I’d never flown first class before. It’s a shame I didn’t get really experience it, seen as I fell asleep for the entire flight, still exhausted from my previous travels. For the parts I was awake, it was beautiful and such a lovely smooth ride. When I’d finally made my way through passport control and grabbed my luggage I was in search of Oren. Avery had text me the number plate of the car ready to pick me up. Seemed she’d forgotten to mention it was a limo I was being picked up in. That information alone would’ve sorted me out just fine as there was only one limo at the pick up station. I walked up to the window and tapped on the blackout glass. It rolled down all of a sudden, making me jump. A man sat in the front, a flat serious expression on his face.

“Identification,” he said before I could even get a word out.

Identification? What the hell did that mean?

“y/n l/n,” I guessed, my name seeming like a viable option for a response.

“Physical identification,” he clarified.

“Can’t you see my face?” I asked, not really knowing what else he meant by physical identification.

“Do you want to get in this car?” he deadpanned.

Great! I’d gotten on the wrong side of Mr. Smiley now.

I wracked my brain for what he could mean by physical identification, “do you want my passport or something?”

“That’ll do,” he nodded sharply.

I fumbled around in my bag like an idiot until I find my passport. I handed it over as soon as I could.

He took it swiftly and analysed it for a good few minutes, “okay jump in.”

“Are you Oren?” I asked, swinging the back door open and putting my suitcase down by the seats.

“Most certainly,” he replied, as I slid in.

“Avery mentioned you,” I clarified, worried he might he starts speculating I’m an enemy imposter dressed up as Avery’s friend coming to commit a murder.

He gave me a thoughtful look as he began to pull out of the pick up station, “all good things I hope?

“Very good things,” I reassured him.

He smiled to himself, almost looking touched, “that’s nice to hear.”

We fell into an awkward silence. There was nothing more necessarily to be said but something hung in the air waiting to be said, but I don���t think either of us could work out what. Thankfully for me, it was Oren who broke the silence first.

“It is also nice Avery has a friend coming to stay with her but I hope you understand you won’t be able to have your normal coffee and catch up anymore, Avery’s life is so different now,” he said, his tone authoritative and serious.

“I know,” I nodded, “I understand how dangerous it all is. I’m just here to make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he replied, “you are a good friend.”

“This is the bare minimum,” I shrugged lightly, “and I know she’d do the same for me if ever I needed it.”

And that was true. She’d do anything for me in a heartbeat. Avery needed me right now, so that’s exactly where I’d be.

***

The rest of the car journey was relatively smooth. I conversed briefly some more with Oren, having the standard school and home life, getting to know me talk. I didn’t mind his company at all, he was a genuine man with a kind heart. I could tell as much from just that hour in the car. When we finally pulled up, sunrise is on the horizon. The house was a phenomenon.

I got out of the car and just stared up at it, my jaw dropped in pure shock. The exterior was huge and it looked like a castle crossed with a Manor House crossed with the worlds biggest mansion. Everything about it screamed prestigious. It reminded me of a historical palace I once toured when I was younger.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it,” Oren smiled, handing me my luggage.

“Oh thanks,” I nodded, “and yeah, woah. Avery owns the whole of this?”

“Every acre,” he nodded.

“Someone needs to pinch me, so I know I’m not dreaming,” I murmured, “it’s magnificent.”

“It truly is,” Oren agreed.

I stared up at the building again and attempt to take in the grounds. It’s so vast I can’t even see all of it. It expands for what seems like forever. I was so lost in thought when my name was shouted that I nearly didn’t hear it altogether.

“Y/N!” shouted a voice. It could only be one voice.

“AVERY!” I screamed, whipping my head around.

I spotted my best friend and suddenly discarded all of my luggage, it somehow seeming irrelevant at this time. We sprinted towards one another as fast as possible and collided. I flung my arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as humanly possible, it’s a wonder I didn’t suffocate her. She did the same, holding me so close that I heard the uneven thumping of her heart in her chest. I inhaled the comforting scent of her perfume as I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling at home in her arms. I didn’t even realise I was crying until we pull away from each other.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she laughed, tears also rolling down her cheeks.

“You better believe it girl,” I smiled, “thanks for the plane ticket, first class is gorgeous.”

“Get used to it,” she told me, with a little wink.

“No, I’m not becoming a gold digger friend,” I shook my head, putting a palm out, “I refuse.”

“We’ll see,” she said, with a graceful shrug.

“Nope,” I shook my head stubbornly.

“Let me show you the house,” she said, veering the subject elsewhere.

“I know you said it was big but you didn’t mention it was this big,” I gaped, my eyes glued to the structure.

She smiled sheepishly, “big was a bit of an understatement on my part.”

“You think?” I laughed, still trying to drink up the details.

As we walked up to the doorstep I became aware of movement coming from behind us, I turned around to see Oren walking around two meters behind us. Quickly I whipped my head back around to Avery, to avoid awkward eye contact with him.

“Does he follow you everywhere?” I asked, dropping my voice low.

“Most places,” she shrugged in reply.

I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s not as creepy as it seems, trust me,” she said, “he’s very subtle.”

“Okay,” I replied unsurely, tempted to turn around again.

“Just don’t think about it,” she told me as we approached the door.

I tried to, but it was impossible not to be aware of someone tracking your every move. I began to wonder if I’d been microchipped with cameras and microphones yet. Avery grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open to reveal what looked like magic.

It seemed even larger on the window with its towering central staircase and large windows. The corridors seemed endless and so did the rooms within them. The floorboards were wooden and glossy, clearly expensive. The carpeted parts were velvet, they must’ve been. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that everything was embroidered with some sort of gold laced trim. A large, intricately crafted chandelier hung roundly from the ceiling, glistening with crystals. It was mesmerisingly beautiful. And my best friend owned it all.

“Ave…” I trailed off, at a loss for words.

“I know,” she nodded, beaming at me, “come in.”

“I feel like if I walk on the floors I’ll scratch them or something,” I scoffed.

“Don’t be stupid,” she grinned, yanking my arm so I practically fell in, “where should we go first?”

“Shouldn’t we pick up a map or something?” I joked, “is there a tour guide who can show us around?”

She giggled, “I’m your certified map and tour guide today.”

“Lucky me,” I winked, “where to first, oh noble one.”

“How about my room?” Avery suggested.

“Yes! I need a room tour!” I replied, excitedly.

“This way,” she said, grabbing my hand and cocking her head towards the large central staircase, that split into two.

***

I’d thought the house was beautiful but I couldn’t believe Avery’s room. Heavenly was an understatement. She had a queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, that looked so comfy just staring at it made me sleep. She had a chest of drawers and matching vanity and a massive bookshelf that I was green with envy of. I noticed two bifold doors on one side of the room, which confused me.

“Open them,” she grinned, as if reading my mind.

Slowly I curl my hand aground the edge and pried the two doors apart. I almost fainted at the sight. A walk in wardrobe. Of course I’d seen them in the movies but never in real life, in someone’s house. It was such a massive wardrobe, it reminded me of that scene from Barbie, where her wardrobe seemed endless.

“No way!” I gaped at her.

“Way!” she winked.

There were of course other species of furniture, like shelves, a desk and chair, a beanbag, bedside tables, an armchair and so much more. Anything could ever want or need was in that room. Like the huge TV or the mini fridge. There was a small door on the other side, which I presumed lead to an en-suite, as I caught a glimpse of bathroom tiles inside as the door was slightly ajar.

“It’s definitely an upgrade from the car,” Avery exhaled.

I looked at her sadly. I’d offered her to live with us for a while so many times, but she declined each and every time. I thought it was because she didn’t want to be a burden. She never deserved the life she had, she deserved this now. After all she’d been through, all she’d lost, all she’d worked for, she deserved this. And secretly I was glad a random dead billionaire left her in his will.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said quietly.

“What look?” I asked.

“The one where your eyes go all sad,” she murmured.

“My eyes go sad?” I said, almost laughing.

“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes, then sighed, “I wanted to live in my car okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, unconvinced.

No one wants to live in their car, it’s something you’re forced to do when your home is no longer liveable. But I didn’t press the matter, those days were long gone now. Now she had this. She pulled me down onto the mattress beside her. We laid down staring up at the ceiling, my head resting on hers. We didn’t say anything for a good while and the silence was comforting, it was nice. It allowed us to breathe a little.

“This house is full of secret passageways,” Avery murmured after a while.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Nope,” she grinned.

“This just gets more and more like a mystery movie by the second,” I replied, wide eyed.

“I know,” she said, “I’m finding it a little mental.”

“A little?” I scoffed.

She laughed lightly, airily. It was a pretty laugh but not a proper one, if I’d been looking at her face, I was sure that the smile wouldn’t have quite reached her eyes.

I say up and she followed suit, so I looked into her eyes and asked her, “are you really okay?”

There was a long pause. Hesitation. It told me everything already but still I waited for her to respond.

“No,” she sighed. It surprised me that she said that. Avery wasn’t one to admit she wasn’t okay very easily, not even to herself. So the fact that she was admitting that to me out loud spoke volumes. She was really not okay. I didn’t say anything right away and let her carry on.

“This is a lot,” she exhaled, “and I know it makes me sound so selfish. I have everything and anything I could ever want but it’s just so much to adjust to.”

“You don’t sound selfish, you sound human,” I reassured her. She needed to know that her feelings were normal, if I were in her position I know I’d be a mess. But she was here, holding it all together or trying to at least.

“I have a helicopter, a freaking helicopter and there’s all these interviews I have to do, functions I have to attend,” she exclaimed, “I don’t know what to do with myself half the time. I mean it’s so obvious I don’t fit in, I wasn’t born into all of this.”

She took a sharp breath in and I decided I needed to let her rant and get these things off of her chest.

“School is like a living hell, most people hate me,” she groaned, “private school is not for me, I’ve got no friends there and everyone seems to be either shooting me weird looks or whispering my name. And it shouldn’t affect me and I know it’s pathetically stupid but it really does.”

“Hey,” I soothed, rubbing up and down her arms, “kids are stupid and you know they’re just jealous. Besides you won’t be in school for that much longer anyway. One, two years with these people and then you never have to see them again. And you’ve only just joined recently, there’s time to make friends if you want to. And I’m only a call away, no matter where you are, what time it is, we have phones for a reason.”

“Yeah,” she blew out a breath, “yeah, okay.”

“You can carry on,” I told her, “just get the weight off of your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to complain, it feels wrong,” she sighed.

“Nu-uh,” I snapped wagging my finger, “you’re a human with feelings which means you have every right to complain so shoot girl.”

“Thank you, really,” she said, her big hazel eyes deep with gratitude.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum, this is like getting you a spoon from the cutlery drawer when you ask,” I said, “now tell me, what else?”

“My life is apparently constantly at risk, I mean I have bodyguard who is standing outside this door right now,” she replied, “I could be killed. Literally killed. And people want to do that to me and that’s so hard-“

Her voice broke and she struggled ro pull herself together, despite how hard she was trying. I instinctively enveloped my arms around her and pulled her tight to my chest

“I’m sorry Avery,” I murmured, “that’s awful, absolutely awful. But you have Oren and you know he’s going to take good care of you, you have whole teams of people preventing that from happening.”

She mumbled an indecipherable response and let a few tears slip.

“And these stupid people aren’t making things any easier for me. All of them are so…” she trailed off, “I can’t find the right word to describe them. Grayson thinks I’m some sort of threat and I’ve inherited this money because I’m a scheming, lying, manipulative snake. Xander seems to live to confuse me, constantly throwing out weird phrases that just throw me off. Nash, well Nash is just very laid back, he doesn’t seem to care about me or my role in the will which is good, but I don’t like the way he looks at Libby. And Jameson…” she hesitated, “Jameson thinks I’m just a game, one left by his grandfather. And the worst part is I dont even know what I’m here and I can’t figure it out.”

“Yet,” I replied.

She titled her head, confused, “What?”

“I can’t figure it out yet,” I explained.

“That’s patronising,” she said, “are you trying to take me back to first grade?”

“It might help you,” I shrugged.

“First grade?” she laughed.

“An open mindset,” I clarified.

She doesn’t reply.

“These grandsons for the most part seem a bit snobbish if you ask me, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to them,” I said, “they’re not worth you at all. You’re not a snake, you’re not stupid, your sister isn’t a prize and you’re not a game. You know this, in here,” I press my palm on the left side of her chest, “don’t let them make you forget it.”

She smiled through glossy eyes,“what would I do without you?”

“Have a mental breakdown in the shower alone and pretend it’s all okay,” I guessed.

“I did that yesterday,” she told me.

“Damn it I didn’t get here fast enough,” I joked, my heart breaking at the thought of Avery sobbing all alone.

She cracked a weak smile, “you got here, you are here, that’s all I care about.”

“Just take a second and breathe, okay?” I said.!

“Breathing,” she replied. I could hear she was breathing in and out in a rhythmic, calming motion.

“Good, keep going,” I nodded in encouragement.

We fell into silence again but like most of our silences, neither of us felt discomfort. I let her breathe, I let her think, I let her have the moment to herself I know she’d felt to selfish to take since she got here.

“Better?” I asked after a while.

“Better,” she nodded her head.

“You’re going to get through this, it just all seems a lot right now because you’re not used to it and it’s all come at once,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied.

We wrapped our arms around each other, a warm hug acting as some sort of cocoon, excluding the outside world for mere moments. I breathed in her shampoo, the smell comforting. We stayed in each other’s arms for long time. We had both needed it.

“I’m really glad your here,” she whispered as we pull away.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” I told her.

***

“I still can’t believe you live here now,” I exhaled, the side of my cheek pressed on her head.

We’d gone back to talking, catching up on each other’s lives for a bit. It seemed we just never could stop talking. And it felt good.

“I know, it’s crazy,” she admitted, “me and Lib have just about got used to it.”

“Libby’s here? Now?” I asked excitedly.

Avery nodded.

“Please can we go and see her?” I asked, “I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“Of course,” she grinned, “I’m just going to ignore the fact that you love my sister more than you love me.”

“It’ll probably make you feel better,” I shrugged, teasing her slightly.

“Hey!” she laughed, slapping my arm lightly.

I’d forgotten how much I’d missed Avery’s company. She wasn’t just my best friend, she was part of me. Every time we were together I was just immediately elevated. I needed her.

“What? You said it,” I grinned, poking my tongue out.

“My best guess is that she’s baking in the kitchen, so we’ll look there first,” she explained.

“How comes she’s baking at nine in the morning?” I asked.

“She’s productive,” Avery shrugged.

I nodded as we exited her room. I followed Avery, presuming she would know where she was going. But after a labyrinth of corridors and a few smiling landmarks, I began to doubt her orienteering skill and decided we were lost.

“Ave I swear I’ve seen that suit of armour before,” I mentioned to her.

“There’s a suit of armour?” she asked.

“We’ve seen it like three times now,” I nodded, pointing to it.

She tilted her head and examined it, “we have not!”

“I’m telling you we definitely have,” I replied,

“You have walked past it four times actually,” a sudden voice said, making me jump out of my skin.

I turned around to see a boy coming up behind us. He was very tall, towering over both Avery and I. There was a bounce in his step and amusement in his voice, he was young, energetic and full of life. He had dark skin and a small grin planted on his lips. And there was a certain wistful sparkle in his eyes. I presumed he was one of the four grandsons, but I was trying to work out which one due to the descriptions Avery had given me.

“Have you been watching us?” Avery scoffed, arms folded,

“I just happened to notice you walking past four times,” the boy shrugged.

Avery narrowed her eyes at him, “why did you count?”

“I wanted to see how many tries it would take you until you realised you were lost,” he replied coolly.

“We’re not lost,” Avery insisted.

“Are you sure?” he chuckled, eyebrows raised.

“I call it non-purposeful wandering,” I piped up

He looked at me for the first time, his deep chocolate eyes meeting mine. His eyebrows now shuffled inwards and he tilted his head to the side, “I don’t recognise you.”

“I’m y/n,” I smiled, “I came to visit Avery.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he nodded, “did you only just arrive?”

“It was about an hour ago,” I shrugged in reply.

“Did you fly all the way out here?” he asked me.

“From Connecticut to Texas,” I confirmed with a short nod of the head.

“Now tell me,” he said, looking very serious, “do robots interest you?”

I side glanced at Avery and she subtly signalled for me to carry on conversation.

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” I said honestly.

“How have you lived your life without thinking about robots?” he gasped, looking somewhere between purely shocked and offended.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “should I start?”

“I’d strongly advise you to,” he said, “they’re most interesting.”

“Is that why you’ve got a singed eyebrow and oil on your sleeves?” I asked, not being able to suppress my mind’s curiosities.

“Observant,” he smiled.

“That’s what they say,” I replied awkwardly, knowing Avery would tease me about this later.

“Robots have a tendency to explode when you get them a bit wrong,” he explained, “if you can get past that, it’s great.”

“Explosions don’t really sound like my cup of tea,” I said, “but I suppose you never know until you try.”

“You have a good spirit,” he told me, “I think you would work well with robotics.”

“Thanks,” I replied, taking it as a compliment to mask my confusion over the whole conversation. I took him as someone who you just rolled with, no matter what. So that’s what I was attempting to achieve.

“Blueberry or lemon?” he asked me.

“Blueberry, no matter the context,” I answered without missing a beat.

“I like you,” he nodded, “Avery can we keep her?”

“For the time being,” she grinned, “unless she starts biting.”

“Can’t make any promises,” I winked then turned back to the boy, “you know your way around this place right?”

“Most of it, though I still discover a new secret passage way every now and then,” he shrugged, as if it were the norm to find secret passageways around your house.

“Do you know how we get to the kitchen?” Avery asked.

“And you said you’re not lost,” he teased her.

“She’s testing you,” I said,

“Is it because you got stuck non-purposefully wandering on your way there,” he smiled, using my precious wording,

“Precisely,” I nodded.

“Okay then,” he replied, “to get the kitchen you just need to follow these suits of armour and when they stop take two rights and walk down your closest set of stairs. You should find it there, if I’m not mistaken.”

My jaw hung slack, “you memorised that?”

“Sort of, thought I usually end up stumbling upon the kitchen by accident through a secret passage way,” he shrugged, “it’s an important room to locate.”

“I guess,” I agreed

He nodded, “Safe travels.”

“We’re not trekking across a desert,” I laughed.

“No,” he smiled, “this is much worse.”

And with that he turned and walked in the opposite direction. We watched him until he exited the corridor and went off elsewhere.

“That’s Xander,” Avery filled me in.

“The one who’s addicted to scones?” I asked, the blueberry or lemon question finally making sense.

“Yes, that’s him,” she confirmed.

“Yeah that figures,” I nodded, “I like him.”

“He’s nice, I mean he doesn’t act like he wants to kill me all the time so that’s a plus,” she said.

“Oh yeah, when do I get to meet the angel of a man who keeps wishing you death?” I grinned.

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” she grimaced

We finally made it to the kitchen, after a few wrong turns and a game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I spotted Libby from the doorway. She was piping vibrant blue icing, almost the colour of her hair, into a pink sponge cupcake. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, tightly squeezing her closer. She let out a small gasp in surprise.

“Guess who?” I murmured excitedly.

“Is this real or does someone have to pinch me?” she asked, the smile in her voice.

“It’s real,” I assured her.

I let go of her and she spun around, cupping my face in her palms.

“Y/n!” she beamed widely at me, brining me in for a hug, “hi love, it’s been a while, huh?”

“Too much of a while if you ask me,” I mumbled into her.

“Glad to see you again,” she smiled as we break apart. The unspoken ‘make sure my sister is okay’ running through her eyes.

“Me too,” I replied, silently reassuring her of the reason I was here.

“I’m starting to think you prefer my sister to me,” Avery scoffed, scooping a little buttercream onto her finger tip and popping it into her mouth

“Sometimes I do,” I replied mischievously.

“Hey,” she complained.

I stuck out my tongue in reply.

“Ooo please taste this,” Libby said, quickly grabbing a couple of cupcakes and handing one to both me and Avery.

“Well it’d be rude not to,” I grinned, taking one gratefully.

“It would,” she agreed as Avery broke the half of the bottom off of her cupcake and put it into of the icing to make her little cupcake sandwich.

I stared at her in disapproval, “you are a monster for doing that.”

“You’re just bitter because it’s the smartest way to eat a cupcake,” she replied.

“When you eat a cupcake you shouldn’t be analysing how you eat it you should just eat it how it is,” I exclaimed passionately. We’d had this fight many of times and I would never stop backing my corner.

“I don’t want icing smeared up my nose,” Avery defended, “and this is the best way to prevent that.”

I shook my head and took a bite of my cupcake, like a normal person. The flavours tantalised my tastebuds, teasing them to crave more. The cake itself was airy and light, not too dry but not too moist. It was the perfect cake to icing ratio and nothing was over sweet or too artificial. It was like heaven on my tongue. I’d really missed these.

“So…” Libby asked, nervously, “what do you think?”

“How do you do it?” I replied, taking another bite.

“Good?”

“That’s an understatement,” I told her, “is there fairy dust in this or something?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” a new person entered, cutting off whatever Libby’s reply was. His accent was definitely Texan and I looked up to my surprise to find an older looking man. Well not old at all, just older than me. I presumed he was in his twenties. He wore a cowboy hat, titled slightly to one side and from under it I noticed his brownish-blondish hair. He had hazel eyes and a sharp jawline but what stood out to me was his nose. He had a similar nose to Xander which gave him away to being another grandson, but which one?

“What are you doing here?” Libby asked, annoyance in her tone.

It surprised me. I had never heard Libby talk to anyone with any remotely negative connotation. I widened my eyes and looked to Avery who only shrugged in response.

“Coming to check up on you and your crazy cupcake baking obsession,” he explained, walking further into the room.

“I don’t need checking up on,” she grumbled, turning back to her piping bag.

“Oh I know that darlin’,” he smiled. It was the kind of smile that you don’t see often, the kind of smile that shows everyone else in that room that the person who is being smiled at is the other person’s whole world.

No one had ever smiled at me like that.

I scooted closer to Avery and whispered, “Are they…”

“I don’t know, I’m 99% sure but it’s not official,” she explained quickly.

“Oh okay,” I nodded.

We watched as they bickered, back and forth for a little bit, unsuppressed smiles on both of their faces. They meant something to one another, even if they didn’t know it yet. They continued to argue until the cowboy noticed my presence.

“Who’s the new one?” he asked, nodding at me

“New one? She has a name,” Libby said sharply.

“I’m y/n. Avery’s friend and Libby’s practically adopted little sister, nice to meet you,” I introduced myself.

“Am I even relevant anymore?” Avery sighed.

“Nope,” me and Libby grinned simultaneously.

“Nash,” he nodded, shaking my hand, “nice to meet you too.”

“We’re going to get going now,” Avery said, “I haven’t shown her the bowling alley yet.”

My eyes widened, “bowling alley?”

“Catch you guys later,” she grinned, pulling me out of the kitchen.

“You have a bowling alley in your house,” I said, still in shock, “why didn’t you tell me already?”

“When’s the best time to bring up the fact you have a bowling alley, I mean it’s not exactly normal conversation,” she told me.

“Okay fair enough,” I responded, as we start walking again, “so are we meeting everyone like it’s a parody of sorts?”

“Seems like it,” she sighed,

“Tour of the hottie Hawthorne’s,” I joked, spreading my arms out to reveal an invisible sign.

She giggled, “hottie?”

“Oh please, you can’t deny it, they’re all gorgeous so far,” I said.

She looked around cautiously, “they could be listening you know?”

“Oh well I’m sure they know,” I scoffed, “besides you’re telling me that you don’t find at least one of them attractive?”

“Moving on,” she said quickly, brushing over the subject, with pink-tinged cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” I asked her.

“No,“ she replied bluntly, “shut up.”

“You’re blushing,” I sang, “which one is it? Oh please tell me Ave!”

“None of them,” she insisted, digging her heals in.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

She replied, “that’s because you have trust issues.”

“No it’s because I know you’re lying,” I told her.

She didn’t reply.

“You better tell me fast because I will attempt to make a move on one of them at some point,” I warned her, “Nash is already out of the question because he’s Libby’s, so which ones yours? I’ll pick between the other two.”

She laughed. It was the first time since we’d met up that I’d seen her properly crack a smile, her eyes fully lighting up, “pick whoever you want, no one’s mine.”

“You might regret saying that later on,” I warned her.

“Doubt it,” she shrugged, “just be careful, okay? These people, this family… just be careful.”

“I will, promise,” I nodded, “so who’s on stage next in ‘let’s meet the Hawthorne brothers’.”

“It’s a surprise,” Avery said,

I smiled, “oooo how intriguing!”

We turned the corner and I noticed someone approaching. Avery did too, as I noticed her breathing sped up a little.

“Speak of the devil and I mean the literal devil, here comes another,” she muttered.

Approaching us was a blonde. Like his brothers, he was tall, but not as tall. He was dressed in what looked to be a highly expensive suit and matching designer shoes. His face was serious and unemotional, like it was paralysed in a state of seriousness.

“Woah, hello jawline,” I mumbled, after catching a glimpse.

“Wait until he looks you in the eyes,” Avery murmured.

“Oh god he walks really fast,” I said quietly, as he approached closer and closer.

She grinned at me, “rich boy leg strides.”

I tried to smile but fail, “Why is my heart beating so fast?”

“He has that effect of people,” she shrugged, “intimidation.”

“Why does he look like he wants to kill me,” I said under my breath when he was about two meters away.

“That’s just his face,” she reassured me.

I began to ask another question, “Are-“

“Shut up,” Avery hissed and I understood why. The blonde had stopped infront of us and he was staring me up and down, as if he were scanning for some sort of hidden weapon I had.

“Who’s this?” Goldilocks snapped, his voice clearly portraying his dominance.

“A friend,” Avery replied curtly.

“A potential threat,” he said sharply.

Why did everyone in this place think I was some sort of axe-murderer. Was it common in Texas or something?

“She’s none of your business,” Avery grits through her teeth.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied walking away.

He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, though I couldn’t work out if it was because he felt I was too below him or he just didn’t feel a need to. Whatever it was, it was clear that there was a tension between those two, but I decided not to bring it up yet.

“What’s he going to do? Research me?” I scoffed.

Avery shrugged as we continue walking, “probably.”

“You’re kidding!” I laughed.

“I wish I was,” she said, wiping the smile off of my face.

“So I take it he’s the one that hates you for breathing?” I clarified, mentally ticking him off of my list of what Hawthorne’s I had met and what ones I hadn’t.

“Yep,” she nodded, “that was Grayson.”

“Yeesh, his jawline looked dangerously sharp,” I winced.

“Better not get on the wrong side of it,” she winked.

“I think I already am,” I blew out a breath, “I mean if looks could kill…”

“Oh we’d both be long gone,” Avery giggled.

“I get the eye thing now,” I groaned rubbing my eyes, “god, ouch, it burns.”

“Doesn’t the piercing grey just give you a headache?” she asked.

“It really does, have you got aspirin?” I said.

She shrugged, “somewhere in the maze of a house.”

“Was he wearing a designer suit?” I was dying to ask.

“Always,” she nodded.

“You’re kidding, all the time?” I gaped.

She sighed, “All the time.”

***

We spent the rest of the day in various different places. I adored the library and the dance studio as well as the karaoke bar and swimming pool. These people had everything. But something was playing on my mind. I’d met three of the four Hawthornes, which meant there was still one to go. I hadn’t seen the other all day, but I had stumbled across his brothers another few times. I found it odd. Avery only shrugged when I asked her about it and presumed he was drunk somewhere. Avery and I had also convinced ourselves Grayson had a murder club, consisting only of himself, and we were the first on his hit-list. We figured if we went, we’d go together so it’d be alright.

Somehow, after touring not even a quarter of the house, we ended up back on her bed again, me catching her up on old school drama. I’d forgotten that she’d missed the break up of the century with an added cheating scandal from the girl with the guy’s brother.

“Hey I just need to run and find Libby a minute, I’ll be back,” she’d told me, after she’d received a text in her phone.

“Everything okay?” I checked.

“Fine,” she nodded once, “I’ll be back soon.”

But soon didn’t feel that soon. It was a little awkward sat in someone else’s bedroom without them. I didn’t know what to do with myself. After a while, I decided I should look for Avery. I opened the door and smacked into someone and almost toppled over.

“You should really watch you’re going, heiress,” the person said.

“Maybe you should too,” I scowled, looking up to meet a pair of alluring green eyes.

“You’re not Avery,” he replied, looking very confused.

“Gee, you’re observant,” I rolled my eyes, then suddenly felt a pang of guilt, “sorry, I tend to overreact when I’m pissed off.”

“A quality we share,” he grinned slightly.

“I wouldn’t call it a quality,” I said.

I stared at him properly, he was tall with dark, unruly hair. He had a similar bone structure than his brothers but his face was softer than Grayson’s, his features warmer.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” he smiled, a witty, mischievous smile, “Jameson Hawthorne.”

He extended a hand towards me and I took swiftly it. His grip was hard, strong I noted. Jameson, the brother I was yet to meet. And dare I say it, he was the best looking by far.

“So who are you?” he asked.

“I’m y/n,” I said, “I’m a friend of Avery’s, I’ve come to stay with her.”

“That’s nice of you,” he commented, a little awkwardly.

“It’s the least I can do,” I replied quietly.

He doesn’t say anything back but I don’t want him to. It was hard enough focusing on conversation when he was looking at me. He was gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. His whole face with was the picture of perfection. Symmetrical, but not harshly, it was more of a mellow, kind symmetry, that enhanced all of his features. His soft looking lips, his nice shaped nose and his eyes. God those eyes. They were a rich green like nature, glistening with intelligent thoughts.

“Well I suppose I’ll see you around then,” he said, pocketing his hands.

“I suppose you will,” I replied.

He walked away slowly and I realised that evening that my stomach fluttered whenever I thought about the Hawthorne with the green eyes.

***

That night I found it so hard to sleep. Avery was out in a mere few minutes but I couldn’t even shut my eyes. Tossing and turning and tossing and turning until I got so bored that I just slipped out of bed all together. I pulled a pair of socks on and left Avery’s room, beginning to wonder the dark hallway. I didn’t really think any of it through. Wandering in the dark, alone, in a house I didn’t know, surrounded by people I didn’t know.

“Midnight wandering are we?”

His voice made me jump but I didn’t let him see that. I turned around to see Jameson Hawthorne stood behind me. How long had he been there then? He looked so poised, so ready, like a big cat on the prowl. He needed to know I wasn’t his prey.

“Maybe,” I replied, a smile adorning my lips, “but even if I am I don’t know why that’s any of your concern.”

“Maybe I’m not concerned, just curious,” he said, “are you lost?”

“No,” I lied to myself and the world.

He waited a few beats.

“Maybe a little,” I smiled shyly, “this place is even harder the navigate in the dark.”

“Lucky for you I know it like the back of my hand,” he did, extending his hand towards me.

I stared at it, “do you want me to hold it or something?”

“No,” he shrugged, “I mean if you want to-“

“No,” I blurted out quickly, “not at all.”

He dropped his hand, a shadow of an expression I couldn’t read shifting across his face.

“Follow me then,” he said, shooting me a lopsided grin that I somehow manage to make out in the dark.

I walked beside him. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and slightly baggy pyjama pants. My cheeked heated up as I suddenly became horribly aware that I was dressed in my pyjama top reading ‘I need coffee’ and shorts decorated with cartoon coffee cups. I hoped Jameson wasn’t paying that much attention to me.

“So why are you awake?” he asked casually.

“I can’t sleep,” I replied bluntly. There wasn’t much more to it.

“Straight forward as that?” he said.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged, “why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” he replied, with a small smile.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“Am I stealing your thunder?” he played along.

“Very much so,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, with a pointed stare laced with banter.

“My deepest apologies,” he exaggerated.

“Not accepted!” I exclaimed.

He grinned, then shoved his hands in his pockets, “Where do you want to go first?”

“Where would you like to take me?” I countered.

“I respect people who answer questions with questions,” he noted.

“Good because I do it far too often,” I told him.

“We’re going to the games room,” he announced.

“Why?” I questioned, like a whiny child.

“Because it is where I’d like to take you,” he shrugged delicately, before picking up the pace with longer leg strides.

I struggled to keep up as I asked, “this isn’t going to be like one of those sadistic murders where you cook me alive and blame it on someone else is it?”

“How did you figure out my master plan?” he teased, with a joking expression.

“I guess you’re just too predictable,” I replied, with a laugh.

“So you watch true crime then?” Jameson said.

From that comment I gathered he was an analyser. Just like me. He analysed conversation and made educated assumptions about people. But what split us apart was that he had the courage to say it to there faces, I kept all my observations in my head. I didn’t care if they were unconfirmed. But Jameson did.

“I listen to a podcast now and then, not a fanatic or anything like that,” I replied.

“Should we play a game?” he said to me, changing the subject suddenly.

“I thought we were going to a games room?” I said.

He thought for a moment and then responded, “a pre-game game.”

“I’ve heard you and your family are quite fond of those,” I said.

“Oh really?” he joked, quirking a brow.

“Yes really,” I grinned back.

“I see,” he pondered “and do you like games?”

“Depends,” I replied.

“On…” he prompted.

“What I’m playing,” I told him, “who I’m playing it with and why I’m playing it.”

“Interesting,” he hummed, opting thoughtful tone, “the man who makes it doesn’t want it, the man who buys it doesn’t need it and the man who needs it doesn’t know it yet.”

“Is that a riddle?” I almost laughed. It was so out of the blue, so sudden asking me a riddle in the middle of a conversation.

“Is my last name Hawthorne?” he countered with a smirk.

“A coffin,” I answered briskly. It wasn’t difficult to work out.

His eyebrows flew to his forehead, “that was fast.”

“Your riddle was maudlin and far too simple,” I shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow, “too easy? Okay, let’s try another and see if you’re as cocky.”

“Not cocky, just honest,” I replied.

He paused for a moment, thinking, “how can you physically stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?”

“My father is dead,” I said. It was true. I don’t know he I suddenly felt the need to blurt it out. It just happened.

“Oh-“

“But we’d have to be standing back to back,” I replied quietly, “that’s the answer to your riddle.”

“Correct again,” he nodded, then hesitated, “and I’m sorry about your dad,”

“Oh it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” I shrugged lightly, “I was young when it happened.”

I didn’t remember much, just being told I wouldn’t see him ever again. I had asked why and they had said he was going to stay in the stars now. And when I asked them if he’d ever come and visit, they told me couldn’t. So I cried. During the most part of my childhood I despised the stars, I’d stare up at them with a tear streaked face and curse them for stealing my dad. When I got older I realised the only thief was death and that the stars were nothing but a metaphor to hold a memory.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

I shoot him a small smiled, letting him know I’m okay and that we can move on. He read my expression well and together we carry on. After a little while he stopped in his tracks outside a set of doors. I almost crashed into the back of him as he paused to abruptly. He swung both doors open at the same time, having a little ‘Elsa’ moment in let it go, as he walked through with his held high. I quickly followed, trying not to gape at the extraordinary components of the room.

There was a pool or was it a snooker table, there was air hockey, ping pong, table football, everything you could ever imagine. There was also a regular coffee table, surrounded by comfy looking chairs and a sofa. But what caught my eye the most was the games cabinet. It was a sight to behold. It covered an entire wall and reached all the way up to the ceiling. There was a ladder on the side that looked like it could slide across, like a book ladder. Within the cabinet laid dozens upon dozens of board games and other games alike were piled atop of each other, like books in an old crooked bookshop, all slanted and uneven in the most perfect of ways. There must’ve been thousands of games here. Jameson caught me staring.

“Ever played chess?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t live under a rock you know,” I deadpanned.

He cracked a smile, “good.”

He jumped on the ladder and swiftly pulled out one of the several chessboards from the shelf and placed it down on the little coffee table. I followed him there and we both sat down. He then began to set it up and I was quick to help out the pieces in place.

“How good are you?” he asked.

“Why? You scared?” I teased, attempting to psych him out before the game even started.

“Only curious,” he said, cool as a cucumber.

“I can’t say,” I shrugged, “how can I judge my own ability fairly, I’m biased.”

“I suppose,” he replied, “but you would know if you’re alright at it.”

“I’ve won before,” I said. Actually I’d won quite a lot before, many many times. I wasn’t exactly lying, just being vague to work in my favour.

The board is set up, “what colour?”

“You choose,” I told him.

He shifted the board so the black chess pieces are on his side. Secretly my preference was the white anyway. I did a quick analysis of the board and sketch out a rough game plan in my head. I didn’t spend to long thinking, this game could go anyway and I didn’t want to be thrown off, but knowing what you sort of want to do was a start. Definitely the first few moves anyway.

“You start,” he urged.

“Such a gentleman,” I joked.

“I can’t help it,” Jameson winked in response.

I picked up a pawn between my middle finger a thumb, surprised at how smooth the finish was. This was an expensive chess set. I went with my classic start move of two spaces forwards into the centre. He grinned and mirrored the move on his turn.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“I would apologise but you still haven’t forgiven me from earlier,” he shrugged in reply.

“And I probably never will,” I grinned.

“Is this the beginning of some Shakespearean vendetta?” he scoffed, with a playful undertone.

“It might be, we’ll have to see,” I shrugged, “I haven’t decided whether it’s a comedy or tragedy yet.”

“Pick comedy, I don’t want to die at the end,” he said.

“We’re all going to die at the end,” I told him.

He replied, “not what I meant.”

“I know,” I smiled.

“You’re getting in my head,” he observed, realising my tactic.

“Am I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

“Yes you’re distracting me from the game,” he said sharply.

“Oh I hadn’t even realised!” I exclaim, doe eyed and innocent.

He narrowed his eyes at me, “your move.”

“Right,” I nodded.

We didn’t have much conversation after that. Actually the only conversation consisted of ‘your turn’ or ‘thanks’. Other than that only the sound of chess pieces being slid about the board could be heard as well as the dull silence that seemed like the loudest sound of them all.

Jameson had a lot of my pieces, the ones I didn’t need in my opinion. I let him have them, I want him to think I don’t know how to defend my pieces.

go on… my mind smiles, please. underestimate me.

I was deceptive and wanted him to underestimate me so I could surprise him, catch him off guard and steal the game from right under his annoyingly perfect nose. But Jameson Hawthorne wasn’t a big of a fool as I thought him to be. The few times I’d been forced to pull out critical moves, he noted them. He began to realise my talent for the game about half way through. He too was a talented player. His moves were swift but calculated, he was going to be a hard opponent to beat.

Move after move. Minute after minute. It was getting intense. Every move was critical, every second in between play was agonising. I found myself constantly self-consciously chewing on my bottom lip, captivated in my concentrated state.

He made his move and suddenly I realised what I can do. I could take a risk and bargain on what his next move was to trick him, but the tactic would only work if he moved the piece I needed him to move, otherwise it was checkmate for me. I sat there, weighing up my options. There was a chance he’d work it out and beat me, but there was also a chance he wouldn’t and I’d beat him. My eyes darted from left to right and back again until I impulsively took the chance. Praying my efforts had paid off, I watch his painstakingly slow next move. He shifted his knight diagonally by two. I wanted to stand up and scream in joy. I had him trapped. Brilliant. My calculated risk had actually worked. I kept a poker face as I realised he’d not yet noticed that I was a venus flytrap and he had crawled blindly towards me.

“Checkmate,” I smiled, leaning back.

His eyes were wide with surprise as his eyebrows shot up to his forehead. The reaction was so real, he didn’t have time to hide it. His jaw wanted to hang down but he was stopping it, I could see the clenched muscles.

“What?” I asked “didn’t plan on being beaten?”

“I was going easy on you,” he gritted through his teeth.

I grinned widely. So losing was a sore spot for Me Hawthorne. Interesting.

“That would explain why you look so shocked that I won,” I said with a sweet victorious smile.

“Fine, rematch but this time we play Hawthorne chess,” he replied, as if it were a deadly game.

“Hawthorne chess?” I raised my eyebrows.

He only smirked in reply.

***

He explained the rules. It was a lot like regular chess but there were six boards to play over and a few added rules that confused me. It wasn’t long before Jameson had me cornered.

“Checkmate,” he grinned, nicking my king.

“I was going easy on you,” I teased, mocking his earlier comment.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned, looking very unamused.

“Is your ego mended now you have a win?” I asked.

“Not quite,” he replied.

“Shame,” I pouted.

“Another match?” he suggested.

I shook my head then rubbed my temples, “I can feel a headache coming on. It’s probably from my lack of sleep.”

“Do you want me to walk you to bed?” he offered.

I shook my head again, “I’m not tired. My head just hurts.”

“I know something that might help,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Fancy taking a trip the kitchen?”

“This is feeling very serial killer-y again.”

“I only snap into serial killer-y mode every third Wednesday,” he joked.

“Well now I know I’m safe!” I grinned back at him

***

We walked to the kitchen together and I noted it was a completely different route to the one I’d taken with Xander’s instructions this morning with Avery.

Once we got there Jameson leaned against the counter and asked me, “do you like hot chocolate?”

I nodded.

“Or would you prefer a coffee?”

His eyes were pinned to my pyjama set as he said it. I self-consciously looked down and blush a deep shade of scarlet, remembering the deign, as he snickered.

“Very witty,” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, “hot chocolate is fine.”

He fumbled around for a saucepan in the endless row of cupboards. I didn’t know how he knew which one to search in, they were all identical. He put it onto the hob and added some milk.

“Our cook goes home after serving dinner so I’ve gotten pretty good at midnight concoctions,” he explained.

“The way you say that makes me a little nervous there,” I told him.

“Maybe you should be,” he flashed a smile.

He put the hon on to heat up the milk and grabbed the instant hot chocolate powder, whipped cream, mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

“Are you five years old?” I laughed.

“Mentally,” he nodded, “is that an issue?”

“Not at all,” I said , “I’m with you there.”

“Nice to know I have a fellow person who had the metal capacity of five year old too,” he beamed, “our conversations will be incredible.”

“We’re having a conversation right now,” I stuck my tongue out, childishly.

“I’m describing the ones in the future,” he rolled his eyes, before returning my tongue gesture by poking out his own.

I smiled to myself as I watched him silently. Even at this time at night - or was it morning by now - he looked good. I wished I could see him like this every night and not feel like I was stealing glances at him.

“So what about you?” Jameson asked suddenly.

“What about me?” I chuckled.

“Well I don’t know much about you,” he clarified.

“You know my name,” I shrugged, searching for more information about myself, “I’m seventeen, Avery is my best friend, my dad’s dead, I like hot chocolate but I also like coffee, I find the rain relaxing, I used to play chess a lot, I like to read novels, I don’t like sleeping but I do all at the same time… now what about you?”

“What about me?” he tilted his head to the side, copying what is aid moments ago

“I gave you my information now you give me yours.”

“Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, I’m eighteen,” he began, “my best friends are my brothers, I don’t know my dad at all, my grandfather liked to give me games, I like hot chocolate and coffee, I prefer the snow to the rain, I have played chess since I could talk, I like to read too and I love sleeping but I don’t do enough of it.”

He’s countered all off my points and mirrored them with his own. It was interesting to compare us. We were similar but so different. I was about to reply but he cut me off.

“Woah!”

“What?” I asked.

“The milk!” He yelled, worry outlining his features.

I spun around to see the saucepan emitting in a thick blanket of steam.

“Why is it smoking? Can milk even smoke?” he shouted.

“It’s steam!” I rolled my eyes.

“Can milk even steam then?” he quipped.

“It’s a boiling liquid of course it can steam!” I exclaimed, for someone so smart, I did wonder how he was acting so stupidly.

“What do I do?” he panicked, the stress evident.

“Take it off the heat!” I cried out. I’d thought that was logical but no. Apparently it was not.

“Oh shit, yeah,” he said, almost laughing

He took the pan off of the heat and the steam began to die down. We made eye contact and started laughing like mad people, until our lungs couldn’t take it anymore and we had to get our breaths back, our bellies aching. We just seemed to fit, me and him. It was like we were the two missing pieces of a jigsaw that have been lost between the sofa cushions for years and now we’d finally been found and put together to complete the puzzle.

The milk turned out pretty much okay and we prepared the drinks a lot easier than we’d heated them. Jameson added every topping going excessively, which made me shake my head and laugh. When we were both done I took a sip, the warm liquid seeping through my body to the tips of my toes, making me feel a little less cold. It was delicious.

“Verdict boss?”

“S’alright,” I shrugged, “I’m kidding, it’s really lovely actually.”

“I agree,” he nodded, “maybe I should smoke my the milk more often.”

I laughed, “you didn’t smoke the milk, it just got a bit steamy.”

“Steamy,” he wiggled his eyebrows

“You really do have the brain of a five year old,” I sighed inwardly.

“Hey! I thought we already established that and moved on,” he said.

“I felt like we needed the conversation to resurface but we’ll put it to bed,” I sighed, then with a mischievous look on my face added, “for now.”

He grinned at me, taking another swig of his hot chocolate, this time getting whipped cream on his nose. I subtly rubbed my nose, hoping he’d mirror my body language or take the hint. He did. Silence hit us like a bus would hit an animal running across the road in the dead of night. Quickly. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but nor was it comfortable. It just was. The only sound was the occasional sip of our hot chocolates.

After a while, I became aware that he was looking at me, actually it was more like staring. It was an analytical look in his eyes, like I was some sort of science experiment rather than a person.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, trying not to squirm as he held his gaze.

“You’re a lot like Avery you know,” he replied thoughtfully.

The comment caught me off guard and I couldn’t work out why. It wasn’t exactly an insult but it hit me like one. Why was Avery on his mind? And why was she on his mind whilst he was looking at me?

“Our brains work in similar ways,” I hummed, “I think that’s why we’re so close.”

“I noticed that,” he nodded, “but I also noticed you’re quite different at the very same time.”

The same and different? Being cryptic, I’ve decided, is a Hawthorne personality trait.

“How so?” I said.

“There’s something about you that is…” he paused to find the right word, “bolder.”

Bold? Really? That was one of last words I would have described myself with.

“You’ve only known me for a day,” I scoffed, “and you haven’t exactly known Avery for that long either.”

“I know,” he replied, “but you’ll find I’m very observant.”

It was only then I noticed his smile. It was the same smile Nash had on his face when he looked a Libby. And I hated to admit it but he look beautiful. His eyes illuminated, sparkling, bright. He looked genuinely happy. It made my heart melt a little, I wanted to see that smile every day. There was only major problem. I didn’t know if he was smiling at the thought of me or the thought of Avery. He could have easily be thinking about either of us and I didn’t want to get the wrong idea.

“You think Avery’s some sort of riddle,” I stated, trying not to let the bitterness seep through my tone.

“And you don’t like that?” he observed, an eyebrow raised.

“Any person who values another as just another game doesn’t get my greatest sympathies, no,” I told him blatantly.

“And what if she is?” he challenged, defensive.

“Is that all she is to you? Just a game?” I asked, getting angrier by the second, “what happens when the game ends Hawthorne, ask yourself that.”

“Then the game ends,” he shrugged, nonchalant as ever, “there’s not much more to say.”

“So she becomes nothing if not a tool for your own wants and needs?” I asked, stating it as bluntly as a pencil that barely writes.

“I didn’t say that,” Jameson insisted, a mixture of feelings betraying the usual mask he hid behind.

“You’re implying it,” I hissed, my eyes overcast, darkened.

He didn’t deny it and that gave me the only answer I needed.

“Now I don’t know you very well, but from what I have to go off of, I didn’t pin you as someone who was selfish,” I told him, raw passion in my voice, “a little bit cocky and far too brave, sure, but not selfish,” I snapped, my tone sharper, “but you’re acting like it and it’s not fair.”

He didn’t reply. Instead he morphed into some sort of stone statue, unmoving, unemotional, unwavering. I felt like a mother scolding her reluctant child.

“And did you even consider how hard this has been for her?” I questioned him, “coming here, to this labyrinth of a house, her life now dictated by a will, forever changed. She’ll never be able to walk the streets again like a normal person without paparazzi bombarding her. She’s just about adjusting to living here, one of your brothers seems like he wants to kill her, you treat her as if she’s a game and she’s being bombarded by the media, I mean the poor girl doesn’t even know why she’s here. She didn’t ask for this and I don’t want her to have to put up with your ‘I’m a Hawthorne so I’m going to use you because I’m entitled’ shit.”

Again, I got no response. For someone so witty and poetic with his words it was odd that now he chose to be silent. He stood still and said nothing. I wanted to shake him until he made a sound but instead I chose to be diplomatic, I chose to carry on.

“You can’t think of her like that, it’s not fair. Not for her or for yourself,” I said, “if you go by your whole life thinking everyone and everything is a game you’re going to lose people, fast.”

“You sound experienced,” he finally said, not replying to a word of my rant just picking out who he thought I was.

“Yeah well maybe I am,” I laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t realise what it might feel like from her perspective of things. I’m used to being in my grandfather’s world, a world full of games and tricks and puzzles.”

“People aren’t puzzles,” I snapped.

“I disagree with you there,” he said, “people shouldn’t be treated like puzzles but every person is a puzzle.”

“Am I a puzzle to you Jameson?” I challenged, taking a step towards him.

“You’re one of the most intriguing ones yet,” he whispered, moving closer to me.

“Funny, I think I could say the same about you,” I murmured.

My face was inches from his, close enough to see his beauty up close. It was even more breathtaking. He looked down at me, his eyes so tentative, so gentle. We moved closer into each other, like a magnetic force was reeling us in, we had no control. It felt natural, it felt right. Our lips were about to brush…

He cleared his throat and pulled away quickly. My face grew very flushed as my eyes darted to the nearest corner of the room I could focus on.

“Still not tired?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Not in the slightest,” I replied, our eyes connecting once again. The soft rolling fields of hypnotic emeralds once again speeding up my heart rate.

“Good because neither am I,” he smirked, “say, have you ever played strip bowling?”

Now this could get interesting.

a/n: again, I’m really sorry for how long this took me to write and I realise it’s not my most amazing work, so sorry 😔😔 I really wanted to portray a strong friendship with Avery as well as interest in Jameson but idk if that was achieved. anyways hope this was okay, thanks for reading <3

TIG masterlist

[tossawary]

I feel like I should be clear, as I poke and prod at all of the loose threads of various "Star Wars" media, and I say that this part or that part was bad or weak or frustrating, that I do genuinely like SW a lot. I think it's fun to examine the flaws (when I note that a character has personality flaws, that is not necessarily to say that I think this is a flaw in the writing), but there's a lot about it that I think is genuinely good. And not just because I first became enamored with magic laser swords as a small child and will always be fond of space operas with Muppets. (Look, I know Yoda isn't real. He's a puppet. I know this. But also, look at him!!! He's a person!!! Like Kermit the Frog!!!) Not just "SW would be so good if it was good" potentially good, but already strong and interesting and exciting!

(Admittedly, I keep thinking this, then I yet again stumble on some part of SW that's pretty rancid (the racist caricatures) or just kind of boring, and then it's like, "Oh, come on, I was JUST defending you!!! Stop betraying me this way!!!" There's a lot about it that's: "Yikes. Not cool." I don't think anyone needs to overlook those things.)

Trying to put my finger on the magic of SW for me is hard. My mind keeps going back to that Pratchett quote: "It's still magic even if you know how it's done." SW at this point is the work of thousands of artists. A labor of love for so many!!! (And just a job for others, but that's still effort!) Writers, actors, editors, costumers, makeup artists, puppeteers, set builders, matte painters, prop makers, musicians, foley artists, animators, illustrators, choreographers, stunt actors, game developers, and on and on, and science fiction and fantasy makes so much of their work even more obvious as they try to construct whole worlds, which often clash against each other. The creative strings of SW are so visible. They are shamelessly funky and weird and vibrant and working on rule of cool! What it does and what it's trying to do are right there to pluck! So reachable! You can really dig your hands into those plot holes! If you're an artist, the ancient, unwieldy movie magic giant that is SW kind of says to you, "Hey, you could do this too."

[agentrouka-blog]

Do you think that the Dance is also meant to be a foreshadowing for the books like D vs fA or Jon? Because I feel like with how the story is centered to the Starks, whoever gains their support (obv Jon if he joins 😂) will win and we get to have a second hour of the wolf

Let's put it this way: The main novel series is the point, and the Dance of Dragons is a result of its existence, it is fictional historical backstory that is meant to inform, illustrate and foreshadow the events of the main series.

The first book of the main novel series was published in 1996. It already contained references to the Dance of the Dragons, and they reappear sprinkled through the series, increasing in detail and relevance.

What is interesting is that the thing most emphasized about the Dance in the main series is the intra-family strife. Brother v. sister - and transcribed into the kingsguard: brother against brother, metaphorical and literal.

Bran was going to be a knight himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. [...] Bran knew all the stories. [...] The twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who had died on one another's swords hundreds of years ago, when brother fought sister in the war the singers called the Dance of the Dragons. (AGOT, Bran II)

It's a popular, high-culture piece of music that plays on the multiple perspectives of the historical event.

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the "Dance of the Dragons," Ned inspected the bruise himself. (AGOT, Eddard VII)

A Clash of Kings (1998) contains no reference, though you could consider the entire developing civil war to be an answer to that first reference.

A Storm of Swords (2000) picks it up again in much greater detail.

Stannis - notably having killed his brother over the throne - emphasizes the aspect of treason while discussing the fate of his wife's uncle Alester Florent.

"It has always been so. I am not . . . I am not a cruel man, Ser Davos. You know me. Have known me long. This is not my decree. It has always been so, since Aegon's day and before. Daemon Blackfyre, the brothers Toyne, the Vulture King, Grand Maester Hareth . . . traitors have always paid with their lives . . . even Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was daughter to one king and mother to two more, yet she died a traitor's death for trying to usurp her brother's crown. It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty." (ASOS, Davos IV)

The song makes another appearance at Joffrey's wedding, once again emphasizing that it is a complex story from multiple perspectives. Also setting up the inter-Lannister collapse that has been brewing for a while and explodes with Joffrey's murder.

Collio began with his version of "The Dance of the Dragons," which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female.  (ASOS, Tyrion VIII)

Jaime brings it back around to the kingsguard pseudo-brotherhood, which mirrors the inter-family aspect of the civil war.

The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well? (ASOS, Jaime VIII)

Given the mess that is made of the kingsguard in the coming book in KL and in Dorne... yes, Jaime.

By AFFC (2005) GRRM firmly establishes the Dance as a historical reference for destructive civil war over feuding siblings.

And the songs he chose . . . He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness. (AFFC, Sansa I)

It also turns the focus on Criston Cole as an alleged external engineer of such strife. Interestingly, his arms resemble a ladybug, Targaryen colors but not Targaryen.

"Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best." "The best and the worst." So one of us is like to live in song. "And a few who were a bit of both. Like him." He tapped the page he had been reading. "Who?" Ser Loras craned his head around to see. "Ten black pellets on a scarlet field. I do not know those arms." "They belonged to Criston Cole, who served the first Viserys and the second Aegon." Jaime closed the White Book. "They called him Kingmaker." (AFFC, Jaime II)

Contrasting to Stannis, Arianne uses the Dance as an example of treason from the other side, trying to manipulate kingsguard Arys Oakheart into supporting her coup against her father and brother, even though by Dornish custom her role would more rightly resemble that of Aegon II because she is the legal heir and believes her father to favor second-born Quentyn. Notably, Criston Cole is blamed over all Targaryen's involved. Ridiculous but probably significant.

Ser Criston Cole. Criston the Kingmaker had set brother against sister and divided the Kingsguard against itself, bringing on the terrible war the singers named the Dance of the Dragons. Some claimed he acted from ambition, for Prince Aegon was more tractable than his willful older sister. Others allowed him nobler motives, and argued that he was defending ancient Andal custom. A few whispered that Ser Criston had been Princess Rhaenyra's lover before he took the white and wanted vengeance on the woman who had spurned him. "The Kingmaker wrought grave harm," Ser Arys said, "and gravely did he pay for it, but . . ." (AFFC, The Soiled Knight)

Quite fittingly, Arianne's own little "dance" ends with horror and death and deep regret on her side, while poor Quentyn is busy on the other side of the planet.

Meanwhile, GRRM keeps the subject current in ADWD (2011) after Tyrion joins the entourage of "Young Griff", mixing in a reminder of different perspective on historical events. And some dragonslaying. Clearly, he has compiled a lot of detailed backstory for this civil war by now.

Haldon was unimpressed. "Even Duck knows that tale. Can you tell me the name of the knight who tried the same ploy with Vhagar during the Dance of the Dragons?" Tyrion grinned. "Ser Byron Swann. He was roasted for his trouble … only the dragon was Syrax, not Vhagar." "I fear that you're mistaken. In The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, Maester Munkun writes—" "—that it was Vhagar. Grand Maester Munkun errs. Ser Byron's squire saw his master die, and wrote his daughter of the manner of it. His account says it was Syrax, Rhaenyra's she-dragon, which makes more sense than Munken's version. Swann was the son of a marcher lord, and Storm's End was for Aegon. Vhagar was ridden by Prince Aemond, Aegon's brother. Why should Swann want to slay her?" (ADWD, Tyrion III)

Dragonslaying comes up again in the context of Hazzea and the effects of dragons in general.

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power? Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle's dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

In a telling twist on the name that pulls it directly into the present and likely future, we look at burned Quentyn:

After the girl was gone, the old knight peeled back the coverlet for one last look at Quentyn Martell's face, or what remained of it. So much of the prince's flesh had sloughed away that he could see the skull beneath. His eyes were pools of pus. He should have stayed in Dorne. He should have stayed a frog. Not all men are meant to dance with dragons. (ADWD, The Queen's Hand)

Which echoes again with Arianne in her TWOW sample chapters (2010-ish), which (interestingly) also flesh out her relationship with Daemon Sand, an intentional reference to a prominent character in the dance linked to Rhaenyra.

"Once we know beyond a doubt whether these be friends or foes, my father will know what to do," the princess said. It was then that pasty, pudgy Teora raised her eyes from the creamcakes on her plate. "It is dragons." "Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad." "I'm not. They're coming." "How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?" Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."

Much like with Daenerys, this reference emphasizes the destructive effects of the dragon-based civil war.

Since Arianne's little stint as pseudo-Rhaenyra went nowhere, but the Dance references remain thick and strong, we can likely look at her upcoming connection to Aegon as the point of it all.

Incidentally, GRRM has already set up their future conflict:

Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?' " (ADWD, Tyrion VI)

This places Tyrion into the role of a Cole-figure, hilariously, having pushed Aegon into changing direction to claim the throne directly without Dany.

There's the strife between family members, kingsguards, factions, and manipulative third parties, all over a throne that really isn't worth it, told from multiple perspectives, bringing misery and destruction to the smallfolk.

All the extra material on the Dance of Dragons was published after ADWD, from A World of Ice and Fire (2014) to the novellas (2013-2024) to Fire and Blood (2018), with one small reference to the extinction of the dragons after the Dance in The Mystery Knight (2010). So all this backstory was compiled and built up in the service of of the main story GRRM is telling.

You rightfully bring up Jon, Daenerys and Aegon all together, but it's extremely unlikely that Jon Snow is going to be a driving factor in a Dance of Dragons 2.0 because he will only just find out that he has Targaryen ancestry, and in a way that puts him it in conflict with her Stark ancestry.

No, this war is going to be between two established family members who both have claims and means alongside the ambition to ascend the Iron Throne. Not quite brother v. sister but aunt v. nephew. Tragic, destructive, self-destructive. Much like what the Baratheon brothers have served us before. Only with dragons involved on Dany's side, while Aegon mixes it up by simultaneously representing the Dornish side of the story, through his mother Elia - which is a whole different kettle of fish.

Jon's presence in there is probably going to be a very interesting complicating factor that might go in many different directions, with mirrors to Robb's Will and Stannis' offer of legitimization (another theme in the Dance), to accusations of manipulation and ambition (Criston Cole). The role of the prophecy is also going to be explored in all its myopic self-destructive emptiness.

This won't be a copy of the first Dance, though.

If there is an Hour of the Wolf, it's going to preside not over scarred survivors, but over the ashes and corpses of King's Landing and the Targaryen legacy in Westeros.

[frostednotdeer]

Hazbin Hotel, The Death of a Misogynist, and The Issue with Aesthetics of Redemption

Now that we have the pretentious psuedo-intellectual caption, let me clarify that I love Hazbin Hotel, Adam is a horrific (fictional) person whos actions shouldn’t be belittled in an actual discussion. I’ve been thinking about this horrible, horrible man alot though!

So, the baseline. The hook and pitch of Hazbin Hotel is that its a show about demons being redeemed and working through their issues while the world dismisses the idea of change. The actual story of Hazbin Hotel is a constant uphill battle against an unfair, fascist bureaucracy and the status quo of complacency its created, while the world dismisses the idea of change. My issue is I don’t think Hazbin Hotel is truly interested in discussions about redemption. I enjoy its discussions on status quo and complacency, but all its shown is that its entirely uninterested in talking about redemption in any meaningful way.

The character of Adam, from his first to near-last moments on screen is consistently characterized as an entitled, misogynistic, dangerous man-child who firmly believes himself above the concept of making mistakes. The first man thinks that he was made perfect and thus acts above those around him. (Despite this he is a delight to have on screen, hes hilarious, don’t @ me). In the final episode of Season 1, Adam is killed in an anticlimactic way after his third act breakdown. Perhaps its the shows own evident pacing issues, but I find it very strange that a show with the aesthetics of rehabilitation portrays Adam as beyond it, and a joke. (Which he very well might be, but it conflicts with the shows aesthetics). Why is a show which claims to be about second chances so disconnected to its pure-evil villains? This critique somewhat extends to Valentino, but I consider him to be more of a plot device for Angel’s own arc (which I love) rather than his own character (it would be extreme tonal whiplash to try to humanize him so soon after Poison) While Adam exists as an extension of heaven and one of the shows many embodiments of an evil status quo.

In the show’s current state, it doesn’t treat the residents of the hotel as “that bad” of people. Which is good for a show supposedly about rehabilitation! But it clashes so hard with how it (and to a worse degree its fandom, but I digress) treat characters who’re meant to be hated.

This post might not be entirely honest, as in Adam’s very last moments he smiles to his lieutenant in an admittedly heartfelt scene, humanizing him in a way the show didn’t care to before. And while I enjoy this, unless Adam and Lute’s possible remnants of humanity are explored in season 2, the show’s aesthetics are hypocritical with how it treats pure-evil.

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Also Guitarspear😭

[kuruk]

Genuinely I don't mind much when bl novels have horrible relationships that shouldn't happen in real life (only to an extent) because within those stories those men are equals even when they aren't, and I know people who write wuxia xianxia and xuanhuan often want to create a very dramatic and harsh world with a lot of tensity and friction between their characters, and they want to play with very exaggerated characters and relationships, and situations with high stakes, and write characters who are morally and psychologically messed up in a setting where that's expected. And because the setting is like this I can understand wanting to go into such things when the setting is like this endless killing immortals type of world but it's impossible to write straight romance that isn't stomach churning when you pair these unhinged men in need of therapy together with women and try to write out that man's progression and road to seeking forgiveness, if he even has that sort of development planned at all to begin with. I get wanting to play with a crazy mess of a character, but it's way too upsetting to put in something that's meant to be a romance because it mirrors reality too well when these characters will never be equal even if it's written to be so. It's just impossible to separate that from the context of real life no matter how much you intend to, and they honestly usually don't even intend to. When two men clash in a novel and at least one of them nearly kills the other and everyone's manipulating and killing endlessly it's like whatever it's a dramatic genre... but I really can't look at it the same way when it's straight romance yuore just making me sick to my stomach.. If you're so interested in that type of dramatic crazy intense relationship in fiction it's fine as long as it's not straight, not in a "men shiuld be abused" way I'm not even kidding here it's literally way different it's just easy to make it actually appear to be fantasy when not under the constraints of the context ingrained in our minds through a million years of misogyny gender roles and the violence with it 😑 like you can't separate that and I think that man should be sentenced to death and killed endlessly

[porcelain-savior]

Hello I just gotta say I love how you write stone so much ThankYou for doing fan fictions like these it makes my day and can I ask for a stone x strong reader like reader can take on 5 guys at once or something I think it will be really interesting you can make it rich or scrap I don't care, i love you're work btw ❤❤

I Bet Five Dollars!

Stone x Reader

a/n: I LIVE FOR A STRONG READER

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You weren’t sure how you got into this mess. One minute, you were arguing with a few men who were yelling at Vinnie for cheating. Now the next minute you were in a circle of men, Vinnie, Skipp, and Stone being held back by a few other people who were betting on who was gonna win this fight.

“I bet on that one!” One guy said, pointing to you. “Tweety on the brown hair guy!” Another guy said.

You stared up at the five men, confused. But ready. You gripped your dagger tightly in your hands. “Come at me!” You yelled. Vinnie perked up, before she smirked. “Kick their asses!”

Two of the men, jumped at you on your left and right. To which you stumbled back, causing them both to run into each other which caused them fall. Which gave her time to focus on the other three men.

There were two of the men behind you, which also jumped at you, you heard their feet stomping which made you go to the right and leave your leg out which caused them to fall. “Ow!”

The only man left was in front of you. “You little bitch!” He yelled as he charged at you. You held out your dagger. The two of your daggers clashed into each other. The two of you holding it front of you, your teeth grinding.

Stone blinked at he watched you, completely fascinated by you and the way you move so quickly and efficiently.

You smirked, before you moved over to the side which made the man fall and hit his nose into the ground.

The other two men from behind gotten up and charged you. You jumped, before stepping over the guy who was floor and stood on the other side of him. The other two guys didn’t notice him, so they tripped over his body and fell.

The other men left, also gotten up. You held your dagger up at them, which made them stop. Thought about it, before they ran off.

“Awh man..I just lost five bucks..” Some guy said he frowned.

“OH MY GOD!!” Vinnie screamed as she ran over to you and hugged you tightly. “Gah! You did great!” Skipp cheered as he hugged you too. Stone only slowly walked over to you, titling his head to the side. He went in front of you and grabbed your cheeks.

“That was reckless.”

[sparkliest-bard-bracket]

Congratulations to ✨FREDDIE MERCURY✨ for being crowned the ✨SPARKLIEST BARD✨ in all the land!!!!

🎶HE. IS. THE CHAMPION. 🎶

Over the course of this bracket, he has faced off against many worthy bards, including an inter-dimensional storyteller, multiple irl musical artists, an immortal musically talented war criminal, and a muppet, and he proved himself to be the most sparkliest of them all.

Excellent singing, excellent piano playing, excellent songwriting, excellent fashion sense, and overall ~glamour~, Freddie Mercury has it all. Here are some of my favorite of Freddie's bardly moments, and feel free to reblog and add your own to celebrate our Bardly Champion!:

And to honor Freddie Mercury's wonderful legacy, I present my favorite Bohemian Rhapsody video ever -- he didn't even need to be alive to have a concert!:

And while we celebrate and throw a Queen-themed party for our Champion of Bards, do not forget to give a round of applause to all of the incredible bards who participated in this bardly showdown!! You can find all of their names and fandoms, along with the full completed bracket under the cut :D

That's all from me for now, folks!! I may make a poll for 3rd place if people are interested, and if people are very enthusiastic, I might make a round 2: fictional characters only! Lemme know if you'd be interested in either of those things, and thank you oh so much for your support through this whole bracket, and have a wonderful day all you fantastic bards and bard fans!!!

Complete Bracket in image format:

And the names and fandoms of all of our bards from the whole bracket!:

Jareth the Goblin King (Labyrinth)

David Bowie (Real Life)

Thom Merrilin (Wheel of Time)

Gurney Halleck (Dune)

The Bard/Kiwi (Wandersong)

Daeron (The Silmarillion)

Callie Cuttlefish (Splatoon)

Finrod (The Silmarillion)

Apollo/Lester Papadopoulos (The Trials of Apollo)

Apollo (Greek Mythology)

Bill Cypher (Gravity Falls)

Chong (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Max Rebo (Star Wars)

Edgin Darvis (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves)

Dimentio (Super Paper Mario)

Will Scarlet (Robin Hood)

Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem (The Muppets)

Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Katalina (Tabletop Time)

Starling Birdsong (Realm of the Elderlings)

Orpheus (Greek Mythology)

“Weird Al” Yankovic (Real Life)

Dave BruBot/The Major Player (Toontown: Corporate Clash)

Carrie Wilson (Julie and the Phantoms)

Kvothe (The Kingkiller Chronicle)

Elan (Order of the Stick)

Raz'ul, Son of Daz'ul (BomBARDed)

Edward Chris von Muir (Final Fantasy IV)

Binary Bard (Poptropica)

Christian (Moulin Rouge)

The Bard (Shovel Knight)

Fflewddur Fflam (The Chronicles of Prydain)

Man with the Harmonica (Once Upon a Time in the West)

Kyoami/The Fool (Ran/King Lear)

Diedrich Knickerbocker (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story)

Hannah Montana (Hannah Montana)

Bard the Bowman (The Hobbit)

Leliana (Dragon Age)

Sprig Plantar (Amphibia)

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer)

Neil Banging Out the Tunes (Tumblr)

The Muses (Disney Hercules)

Robinton (Pern)

Thistle/Sissel (Delicious in Dungeon)

Loquatius Seelie (Critical Role)

Cicero (Skyrim)

Michael Jackson (Real Life)

Oli/TheOrionSound (Empires SMP)

Megamind (Megamind)

The Onceler (The Lorax)

Mettaton (Undertale)

Gamzee Makara (Homestuck)

William Shakespeare (Real Life)

William Shakespeare (Something Rotten)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Classicaloid)

William Shamspeare (Ace Attorney)

Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time)

Brook (One Piece)

Gerard Way (Real Life)

Sea Hawk (She-Ra and the Princess of Power)

Snufkin (Moomin)

Frank Sinatra (Real Life)

Lias "Cliff" Bluestone (Discworld)

Rick Astley (Real Life)

Alan-a-Dale (Robin Hood)

Essi Daven (The Witcher)

Lúthien Tinúviel (The Silmarillion)

Stefen (The Heralds of Valdemar)

Roman Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Bard (Crypt of the Necrodancer)

Kass (Legend of Zelda/Breath of the Wild)

Steven Universe (Steven Universe)

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies)

Miss Piggy (The Muppets)

Nydas Okiro (Critical Role)

Charlie Pace (Lost)

Dob the Half-Orc Bard (Oxventure)

Kitagra (Kings of the Wyld)

Kaylie Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Father Gabriel (The Mission)

Gabrielle the Battling Bard (Xena: The Warrior Princess)

Haer'Dalis (Baldur's Gate)

Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!)

Tom Bombadil (The Lord of the Rings)

Sylvando (Dragon Quest 11)

Steve McKenzie/Jester (Galavant)

Gieve (The Heroic Legend of Arslan)

Jaskier/Dandelion (The Witcher)

Kubo (Kubo and the Two Strings)

Guiliastes/Gui (1/2 Prince)

Rocky (Lackadaisy)

Asmodean (Wheel of Time)

Neil Cicierega/Lemon Demon (Real Life)

Kermit the Bard (Tales of Tinkerdee)

The Pied Piper (The Pied Piper of Hamelin)

Venti (Genshin Impact)

Sir Robin's Minstrels (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)

Franz Liszt (Classicaloid)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Puss in Boots (Shrek)

Freddie Mercury (Real Life)

Hoid/Wit (Cosmere)

Noise (Roleslaying with Roman)

The Amazing Devil (Real Life)

Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Rickety Stitch (Rickety Stitch and the Gelatinous Goo)

Ron Stampler (Dungeons & Daddies)

Thancred Waters (Final Fantasy XIV)

Raine Whispers (The Owl House)

Jack Black (Real Life)

Scanlan Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Éile (The Witcher: Blood Origin)

Hap Gladheart (Realm of the Elderlings)

Alastair Nobledrifter (Saving Throw - DnD Podcast)

Maglor (The Silmarillion)

Bill & Ted (Bill & Ted)

DJ Cadence (Club Penguin)

Imp Y Celyn (Discworld)

Bard Otter (The Last Dragonlord)

Yara of Nowhere, the Wandering Bard (A Practical Guide to Evil)

Dorian Storm (Critical Role)

Maria von Trapp (The Sound of Music)

Demyx (Kingdom Hearts)

Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan (Tales of Arcadia: Wizards)

Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit)

BMO (Adventure Time)

[detroitbecomeonline]

Hello to my beloved followers and mutuals and anyone who just sees this post lol hi anywaY I have gotten a few asks recently just chatting about hankcon and I haven't answered them because I'll compile a general answer in this one post <3 Okay SO basically I agree with what everyone is saying and I'll reiterate it here and mix in my own opinion:

People's tastes/opinions are different. It's strange to see people attack and block each other over a fictional pairing, like, I've been on voice call with a Tumblr mate of mine who ships hankcon and we didn't explode. I am on the dad-son end of things, and guess what. She talked to me about all the things she likes about hankcon and I was happy that she was happy. It's fun, ok. It's FUN. FUN. When people argue "oh this isn't even canon" like. Dad-son and hankcon aren't canon, but we get to enjoy them in different ways and in different universes. Which is epic. It doesn't matter what side you're on- harassing someone for having a different opinion to you is not nice. And you're missing out on making friends with others.

Did you know that I follow someone who is self-labelled anti-reed900 despite me being a reed900 shipper? Guess what fuckers. I like a mix of opinions on my dash because I get to experience 5 GUM. This person doesn't post reed900 at all and I haven't seen this person harass others either. And it's all boiled down to taste. Did you know I disliked hankcon when I first got here? I had the tag blocked, but I didn't block others for having fun over in the other corner. Now I'm like, super neutral about it and even reblog it. You know rk1k? I used to dislike that too. Now I ship it. rip me. anyway. I was into simarkus and now I'm not! But I'm still going to do the simarkus arc in Encryption hella justice. So ultimately, I guess my opinion is who cares bro!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our interests change!! (Like the anon in my asks who said they liked hankcon and now don't anymore!)

End note which is a personal opinion: Posting "I don't like X" is not being hateful. Posting "Anyone who likes X is a [redacted] and Y is superior/canon/the right way" is not cool.

Edit: ur so hot and sexy if you follow me and our opinions clash about anything ever

[antigonick]

just stumbled into one of your snippets and i'm OBSESSED with your writing style. it is so fluid and punchy and such a delight to read. if you ever feel like answering, how does your writing process works? what are your inspirations, style and tone-wise? and what themes do you enjoy exploring the most?

have a lovely day! 💌

Oh, that's... WELL. That's! The best compliment you could have sent me, thank you so much, I don't know what to say.. I'm actually trying to write a... I'm gonna call it a novel when it's just a mess of fragments right now, but—yeah. Fluid and punchy is exactly what I strive to achieve with the character's voice so this is so nice to hear. WHATEVER. THANK YOU.

Anyway! My writing process is really... steeped in rhythm, I guess? It starts with character writing, which leads me to character voice, which leads me to finding the right "mind" tempo, and from it cascades the headspace I need to write. In that, in the idea of perspective and voice influencing the story first, I'm indebted to Faulkner, to Marlon James, to Woolf's The Waves, to Shirley Jackson—to the perspectivism twists of horror and gothic writing as a general rule. Rereading her, I think Emily Brontë has shaped my metaphorical network very early on, and my handling of violence, especially in dialogue—though more recently, Tamsyn Muir made me tick about dialogue too. Malin Rydén is one of my utmost inspirations, not a little because the main character of my story was first created for his story, but also because he was my gateway into harder, grittier speculative fiction and digital literature, which both inspire me now for the story I'm trying to shape—horror out of the gothic castle and into the terrible anticipation of what comes next, with more politics, with ghosts and body horror twisted to technology. In terms of pure form, I'm extremely impacted by poetry—E. E. Cummings, Alice Oswald, Emily Dickinson—those who deconstruct syntax to wrangle it into breath. He didn't influence me because I discovered him too late, but I feel a kinship to some of the early stylistic experimentations of Frank Bidart too. Hanif Abdurraqib, whose first name I gave to one of my main characters too because his voice is incredible: it moves. Charles Olson's Projective Verse gestures at what I feel when I write, you know? "ONE PERCEPTION MUST IMMEDIATELY AND DIRECTLY LEAD TO A FURTHER PERCEPTION (…). Always one perception must must must MOVE, INSTANTER, ON ANOTHER! (…)" and then "Breath allows all the speech-force of language back in." Even silence can be your story-weapon.

I'm interested in... blowing apart labels, dichotomies, I think, making them harder to grapple with—right and wrong, love and hate, personal and universal; transgressions, fluidity; how language fails, how language betrays; the way human connection can both fuck you and raise you up, in its constant failure and constant trying, in the violence of intimacy, in the tension between hardness and vulnerability—more than anything, I'm interested in the way individual desires clash with collective needs or personal ideals, in the lies and justifications you can find for yourself, in what it means for you when you come to dismantle them (or refuse to). I love palimpsest, stories retold again and again, and/or I love difficult, ugly settings, speculative and dystopia topics, I want the story to be political in itself, even when it's not politicking; and I LOVE mindfucks: using our terribly faulty, terribly subjective perception / perspective / memory / dreams / FEARS / intellect to tell a story that is both fascinating because it's unique, and trapped by it. Can't escape yourself. What are you gonna do with yourself (against yourself, for yourself) now?

Formally, I try to use that in writing: trapping the reader in one voice that swallows them really, ideally that jostles them a little, that blurs the boundary between them and the character: extreme immersion. I like to try and convey emotion / impression and even action as it is experienced, rather than explaining it clearly. In that phenomenology has influenced me, I guess? Deleuze, Guattari, Merleau-Ponty, and poetry again, I guess. Archibald McLeish says "a poem should not mean / but be...", and that's what I try to do with the character I choose, and then I let them be, and they drive both the story and the writing that should echo it—form and content cycling each other like mirrors.

Goddamnit, that got so long. Anyway. THANK YOU for being interested, I'm really touched.

[theendorisit]

I want to talk about some fun stuff I have had knocking around my head regarding the Magnus archives 

Note: is it Canon? I don’t know and I don’t care. @jonnywaistcoat gave us a bunch of fun toys to play with. I wanna play with them. I am not gonna tell anyone if their opinions on Magnus are right or wrong because it doesn’t matter! it’s a story. It’s fiction. It doesn’t matter if you picture white Archivist, black Archivist, asian Archivist - that’s how we end up with fun stuff like mermaid Tim! Imagine everything, and anything - it doesn’t matter, and that’s the fun of it! Also, I am keenly aware I am (checks watch) 8 years late to this fandom and I may be spouting stuff long since discussed, so forgive me if I am getting excited discovering long trodden ground.

I digress. So. One of the many things I love about Magnus is the fun and very clear metaphors that are used to describe the entities/ fears and what’s going on in the story. One of my favourites is the colour wheel theory. During the show I would get confused between the different entities particularly the stranger and the spiral but if the entities are like colours then this makes perfect sense: they do bleed into each other. So I wanted to try and transcribe these entities onto colours not thinking so much about which particular colour I think they ought to be, but how they complement or clash with each other. Disclaimer, not an artist. At all. I don’t know if I’ll do a good job - but that’s not really what I wanna talk about. 

Death/Terminus/The End isn’t a colour. Death is black-and-white. And death isn’t like any of the others.

This is just to say, that the way I read it - death, as an entity, is treated differently.

Jonny himself said in calls and livestreams that death was actually his main fear, maybe still is? So that might lend itself to different considerations.

In TMA, death is described as the fear of death, dying and nonexistence and all of that cosmological shit that most of us feel. However, TMA stories of death also include the opposite fear which is the fear of not being able to die. This is equivalent to the Eye finding someone who is afraid of being watched and putting them in a box, where no one can ever see them again.  The fact that this person in the pyramid can’t die and wants to, the fact the reapers, in escaping death achieve basic immortality - and often are not so sure they like it - this would be a very weird way to create a fear of death, by creating an apparent desire for it! 

So I think within the universe, this fear is special because it encapsulates itself and its opposite - whereas the other fears have distinct opposites which are separate entities (buried and vast, eye and dark). Not only that, but as season 5 showed us, there are fears that can combine and match with each other, and there’s no fear that death DOESN’T complement!  Like yes, actual death will stop fear, but a healthy dose of the fear of dying will go with everything. So in the colour wheel theory, I say fear of death is black and creates shades with other colours, and fear of not-death is white and creates tints (I just really like this metaphor!).

I’d love to make anthropomorphic art of the entities as individuals, and groups of individuals, based on matching colours. Example - Death, The Buried, The Corruption all work together as a buried alive fear. Unfortunately my fine art skills are dismal, so I’ll let more talented people have a go if they like this idea. I get why I haven’t seen so much of this, as the avatars kind of do this anthropomorphism, but death itself as a concept has been characterised for thousands of years (I am a big fan of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s versions!), and we have 4 (+1?) horsemen of the apocalypse bringing war and pestilence into humanoid form so I reckon it could be pretty interesting how people envision the entities. Personally I imagine the vast like Junji Ito’s Spiral-faced girl (she’ll pull you in!).

Anyway, that’s my perspective on blending fears like colours, and why Death really isn’t like any of the others.

[nitw]

Any games like NITW you like? Similar tone/story?

i've seen disco elysium clashing with nitw a lot, and even though that sounds kinda like a stretch i honestly get it. the way nitw portrays its existentialist and political themes might be a bit easier to identify with, and the setting is more familiar to our world too, but i can't stress enough that if you're a fan of either one of these games, you'll PROBABLY love the other.

oxenfree is another short little indie game that i ADORE, and it's crazy how much it reminds me of nitw on multiple aspects. between loads of unique and interesting dialogue choices (which in oxenfree's case actually matter more in the end than in nitw!), the tone and aesthetic and reality-warping visual effects, the overall gameplay, the comedy, and the story of some troubled but ultimately innocent young people being thrown headfirst into a nightmare that they should never have had to take responsibility for??? VERY nitw!!!!!!

i don't know how much i can compare nitw to oneshot thematically, but i have to mention it anyway just for being another life-changing experience that makes you connect with the world so intimately, and also blurs the line between physical reality, fiction and the subconscious in SUPER SPOOKY AND COOL WAYS!!! you also play as a nonbinary cat(?) with big eyes!

TAKE THIS LAST ONE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT because i haven't actually finished it yet, but va-11 hall-a is a very immersive game that also deals with mental health and the way capitalism and social media/news can affect it. it's also just sexy as hell i really need to pick it up again lol