#epic cast selfies

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Epic Systems, a lethal health record monopolist

Epic Systems makes the dominant electronic health record (EHR) system in America; if you're a doctor, chances are you are required to use it, and for every hour a doctor spends with a patient, they have to spend two hours doing clinically useless bureaucratic data-entry on an Epic EHR.

How could a product so manifestly unfit for purpose be the absolute market leader? Simple: as Robert Kuttner describes in an excellent feature in The American Prospect, Epic may be a clinical disaster, but it's a profit-generating miracle:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-10-01-epic-dystopia/

At the core of Epic's value proposition is "upcoding," a form of billing fraud that is beloved of hospital administrators, including the "nonprofit" hospitals that generate vast fortunes that are somehow not characterized as profits. Here's a particularly egregious form of upcoding: back in 2020, the Poudre Valley Hospital in Ft Collins, CO locked all its doors except the ER entrance. Every patient entering the hospital, including those receiving absolutely routine care, was therefore processed as an "emergency."

In April 2020, Caitlin Wells Salerno – a pregnant biologist – drove to Poudre Valley with normal labor pains. She walked herself up to obstetrics, declining the offer of a wheelchair, stopping only to snap a cheeky selfie. Nevertheless, the hospital recorded her normal, uncomplicated birth as a Level 5 emergency – comparable to a major heart-attack – and whacked her with a $2755 bill for emergency care:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/27/crossing-a-line/#zero-fucks-given

Upcoding has its origins in the Reagan revolution, when the market-worshipping cultists he'd put in charge of health care created the "Prospective Payment System," which paid a lump sum for care. The idea was to incentivize hospitals to provide efficient care, since they could keep the difference between whatever they spent getting you better and the set PPS amount that Medicare would reimburse them. Hospitals responded by inventing upcoding: a patient with controlled, long-term coronary disease who showed up with a broken leg would get coded for the coronary condition and the cast, and the hospital would pocket both lump sums:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/13/a-punch-in-the-guts/#hayek-pilled

The reason hospital administrators love Epic, and pay gigantic sums for systemwide software licenses, is directly connected to the two hours that doctors spent filling in Epic forms for every hour they spend treating patients. Epic collects all that extra information in order to identify potential sources of plausible upcodes, which allows hospitals to bill patients, insurers, and Medicare through the nose for routine care. Epic can automatically recode "diabetes with no complications" from a Hierarchical Condition Category code 19 (worth $894.40) as "diabetes with kidney failure," code 18 and 136, which gooses the reimbursement to $1273.60.

Epic snitches on doctors to their bosses, giving them a dashboard to track doctors' compliance with upcoding suggestions. One of Kuttner's doctor sources says her supervisor contacts her with questions like, "That appointment was a 2. Don’t you think it might be a 3?"

Robert Kuttner is the perfect journalist to unravel the Epic scam. As a journalist who wrote for The New England Journal of Medicine, he's got an insider's knowledge of the health industry, and plenty of sources among health professionals. As he tells it, Epic is a cultlike, insular company that employs 12.500 people in its hometown of Verona, WI.

The EHR industry's origins start with a GW Bush-era law called the HITECH Act, which was later folded into Obama's Recovery Act in 2009. Obama provided $27b to hospitals that installed EHR systems. These systems had to more than track patient outcomes – they also provided the data for pay-for-performance incentives. EHRs were already trying to do something very complicated – track health outcomes – but now they were also meant to underpin a cockamamie "incentives" program that was supposed to provide a carrot to the health industry so it would stop killing people and ripping off Medicare. EHRs devolved into obscenely complex spaghetti systems that doctors and nurses loathed on sight.

But there was one group that loved EHRs: hospital administrators and the private companies offering Medicare Advantage plans (which also benefited from upcoding patients in order to soak Uncle Sucker):

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8649706/

The spread of EHRs neatly tracks with a spike in upcharging: "from 2014 through 2019, the number of hospital stays billed at the highest severity level increased almost 20 percent…the number of stays billed at each of the other severity levels decreased":

https://oig.hhs.gov/oei/reports/OEI-02-18-00380.pdf

The purpose of a system is what it does. Epic's industry-dominating EHR is great at price-gouging, but it sucks as a clinical tool – it takes 18 keystrokes just to enter a prescription:

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamanetworkopen/fullarticle/2729481

Doctors need to see patients, but their bosses demand that they satisfy Epic's endless red tape. Doctors now routinely stay late after work and show up hours early, just to do paperwork. It's not enough. According to another one of Kuttner's sources, doctors routinely copy-and-paste earlier entries into the current one, a practice that generates rampant errors. Some just make up random numbers to fulfill Epic's nonsensical requirements: the same source told Kuttner that when prompted to enter a pain score for his TB patients, he just enters "zero."

Don't worry, Epic has a solution: AI. They've rolled out an "ambient listening" tool that attempts to transcribe everything the doctor and patient say during an exam and then bash it into a visit report. Not only is this prone to the customary mistakes that make AI unsuited to high-stakes, error-sensitive applications, it also represents a profound misunderstanding of the purpose of clinical notes.

The very exercise of organizing your thoughts and reflections about an event – such as a medical exam – into a coherent report makes you apply rigor and perspective to events that otherwise arrive as a series of fleeting impressions and reactions. That's why blogging is such an effective practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The answer to doctors not having time to reflect and organize good notes is to give them more time – not more AI. As another doctor told Kuttner: "Ambient listening is a solution to a self-created problem of requiring too much data entry by clinicians."

EHRs are one of those especially hellish public-private partnerships. Health care doctrine from Reagan to Obama insisted that the system just needed to be exposed to market forces and incentives. EHRs are designed to allow hospitals to win as many of these incentives as possible. Epic's clinical care modules do this by bombarding doctors with low-quality diagnostic suggestions with "little to do with a patient’s actual condition and risks," leading to "alert fatigue," so doctors miss the important alerts in the storm of nonsense elbow-jostling:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5058605/

Clinicians who actually want to improve the quality of care in their facilities end up recording data manually and keying it into spreadsheets, because they can't get Epic to give them the data they need. Meanwhile, an army of high-priced consultants stand ready to give clinicians advise on getting Epic to do what they need, but can't seem to deliver.

Ironically, one of the benefits that Epic touts is its interoperability: hospitals that buy Epic systems can interconnect those with other Epic systems, and there's a large ecosystem of aftermarket add-ons that work with Epic. But Epic is a product, not a protocol, so its much-touted interop exists entirely on its terms, and at its sufferance. If Epic chooses, a doctor using its products can send files to a doctor using a rival product. But Epic can also veto that activity – and its veto extends to deciding whether a hospital can export their patient records to a competing service and get off Epic altogether.

One major selling point for Epic is its capacity to export "anonymized" data for medical research. Very large patient data-sets like Epic's are reasonably believed to contain many potential medical insights, so medical researchers are very excited at the prospect of interrogating that data.

But Epic's approach – anonymizing files containing the most sensitive information imaginable, about millions of people, and then releasing them to third parties – is a nightmare. "De-identified" data-sets are notoriously vulnerable to "re-identification" and the threat of re-identification only increases every time there's another release or breach, which can used to reveal the identities of people in anonymized records. For example, if you have a database of all the prescribing at a given hospital – a numeric identifier representing the patient, and the time and date when they saw a doctor and got a scrip. At any time in the future, a big location-data breach – say, from Uber or a transit system – can show you which people went back and forth to the hospital at the times that line up with those doctor's appointments, unmasking the person who got abortion meds, cancer meds, psychiatric meds or other sensitive prescriptions.

The fact that anonymized data can – will! – be re-identified doesn't mean we have to give up on the prospect of gleaning insight from medical records. In the UK, the eminent doctor Ben Goldacre and colleagues built an incredible effective, privacy-preserving "trusted research environment" (TRE) to operate on millions of NHS records across a decentralized system of hospitals and trusts without ever moving the data off their own servers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/08/the-fire-of-orodruin/#are-we-the-baddies

The TRE is an open source, transparent server that accepts complex research questions in the form of database queries. These queries are posted to a public server for peer-review and revision, and when they're ready, the TRE sends them to each of the databases where the records are held. Those databases transmit responses to the TRE, which then publishes them. This has been unimaginably successful: the prototype of the TRE launched during the lockdown generated sixty papers in Nature in a matter of months.

Monopolies are inefficient, and Epic's outmoded and dangerous approach to research, along with the roadblocks it puts in the way of clinical excellence, epitomizes the problems with monopoly. America's health care industry is a dumpster fire from top to bottom – from Medicare Advantage to hospital cartels – and allowing Epic to dominate the EHR market has somehow, incredibly, made that system even worse.

Naturally, Kuttner finishes out his article with some antitrust analysis, sketching out how the Sherman Act could be brought to bear on Epic. Something has to be done. Epic's software is one of the many reasons that MDs are leaving the medical profession in droves.

Epic epitomizes the long-standing class war between doctors who want to take care of their patients and hospital executives who want to make a buck off of those patients.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/02/upcoded-to-death/#thanks-obama

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Priority

Summary: MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Song: i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

The sun dipped low over the Monaco harbor, casting a golden hue over the sleek yachts and classic buildings. It was race weekend, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Fans adorned in vibrant team colors filled the streets, while the pit lanes prepared for the moment that would thrill millions around the globe.

Among the horde of dedicated supporters and high-profile personalities were three friends, caught in a whirlwind of competition and camaraderie: Max, Charles and Lando.

Today, he stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on you—a talented influencer and recently appointed ambassador for the racing team.

With your effortless smile and magnetic personality, you effortlessly drew a gathering of admirers around you, signing autographs and taking cheerful selfies, your laughter ringing like music above the cacophony.

Charles and Lando, seated comfortably on a nearby bench, exchanged knowing glances as they watched Max, who seemed lost in a dreamy haze.

“Look at him,” Lando snickered, leaning back on his hands. “I swear he’s drooling.”

“Max, the biggest simp in Monaco,” Charles teased, suppressing a laugh. “He’s got those hearts in his eyes again.”

Max was clearly oblivious, completely entranced by your graceful presence. He didn’t just admire you; it was as though he had built a world around the very idea of you.

The way you spoke with your fans, how you listened to each story and responded with genuine interest—it captivated him.

“Should we go over and rescue him?” Lando suggested, feigning concern while he grinned. “Or do we let him bask in his hopeless dreams for a little longer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “But maybe we should give him a little push. He wouldn’t take any of this as serious if it were us in front of that crowd.”

“I can’t believe he’s got it this bad,” Lando said, his tone playful, “What spice do you think he would add to the word ‘simp’ if it was his turn to describe it? Charismatic? Earned? I can practically hear his monologue right now.”

Charles laughed, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied Max. “But seriously, look at him. It’s like watching a puppy. You know he wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

While they teased Max, he remained entranced. Conscious of his friends’ snickering, he reluctantly stole a glance at them and noticed their laughter.

Realizing what they were up to, he straightened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Guys! Quit it!” he called out, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I’m just watching!”

“Yeah, watching her while looking like you’re in a personal rom-com,” Lando snickered. “How about a quick flirt, huh? We can’t let those hours of sim racing go to waste, Max!”

“Or we could help you,” Charles added, the corners of his mouth curling into a teasing grin. “I could distract her while you swoop in for a heroic rescue.”

Max rolled his eyes, attempting to shake off their banter, yet a smile tugged at his lips, unable to fully resist the comedic timing of his over-the-top friends.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that? I’d rather drown than ask either one of you for ‘help’.”

“Oh please, it wouldn’t even be asking!” Lando exchanged a knowing grin with Charles. “You’d be thanking us with how epic this moment will be.”

Just as their banter continued, you finished with the last group of fans, standing tall under the sun, blissfully unaware of the trio observing you.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took out your phone, scrolling through your messages.

“Look! She’s free! Go now!” Lando exclaimed, shoving Max lightly.

“What? No! I can't!” Max stuttered, standing rigid, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Charles leaned closer, unfazed by Max’s protests. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t let the opportunity pass you by. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Max echoed incredulously. “What does that even mean? Look at her! She’s amazing. I’m just… me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charles replied. “She doesn't want another trophy; she wants someone real. If you don’t go talk to her, you’ll never know.”

With a deep breath, Max took a step back, contemplating the ocean of thoughts that whirled within him. “What if I mess up? Or worse, what if she thinks I’m just a weird guy?”

“Mate! You're the Max Verstappen,” Lando shrugged. “I don't think she'll care.” He winked. “Now go. You could get all the cool points.”

With a silent nod and a rush of adrenaline, Max finally took a step forward. As he approached you, he tried to focus on the words swirling in his mind.

Closer and closer, he felt his heart race—this was it.

You looked up just as he reached you, and your eyes met his. His breath caught, a mix of excitement and nervousness weaving together. “Hey…,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling small in this vast world of possibility.

You smiled brightly, that same warmth radiating from you that had drawn him here. “Hi there! You’re a fan of the team, right?”

Max nodded, wrestling with the best response while standing here, finally face to face with the person he admired yet knew so little about. “Yeah, I mean, um, I—I am.” He swallowed hard. “I saw you with your fans over there, and, um, you were amazing.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Thank you! I love connecting with them. It’s the least I can do. They make our sport so vibrant and exciting.”

“I can see that,” Max said, feeling the confidence slowly emerging. “Just like you’re making this whole weekend brighter.”

The two of you shared a laugh that alleviated the tension, and with each word, the distance between you lessened. The shimmer of stars began to paint the sky as the sun set, casting a magical glow over the race circuit, where a new chapter began to unfold.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lando watched from a distance, an approving grin plastered on their faces. “Maybe our Max isn’t such a hopeless case after all,” Lando mused, nudging Charles.

“Looks like our little simp might just prove us all wrong,” Charles replied, folding his arms in satisfaction as they witnessed the unfolding moment between you and Max, already knowing it was destined to be a story worth telling.

You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of racing. The revving engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the exhilaration hanging in the air—every race was a whirlwind of excitement.

As a social media influencer, you had the chance to immerse yourself in this electrifying world, and attending each Grand Prix was like living in a breathtaking dream.

But it wasn't just the races that thrilled you; it was the company you kept, particularly Max.

He was a whirlwind on the track, deftly maneuvering through the chaos of his competitors. Off the track, however, he was refreshingly down-to-earth.

From the moment you met, a strong bond formed—a friendship that quickly evolved into the kind of connection that made fans and onlookers raise their eyebrows with curiosity.

Your camaraderie was vibrant and infectious, turning the drivers’ lounge into your personal arena of chaos where everyone else was a spectator.

“Hey, Max!” you exclaimed, waving as he walked through the driver’s lounge after a particularly grueling race in Miami. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N! Ready for some ‘maxplaining’?” he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You mean me doing the yapping, Maxplaining is your job.”

“Touché,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s compare notes on what went wrong today. I have a few things to say.”

You led him to a quieter corner, the hum of the lounge fading as the two of you settled into a rhythm. You were comfortable with each other, like family.

“Okay, admit it,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially. “You totally could have cut that last corner better. What were you thinking?”

Max feigned a horrified gasp. “What do you mean? I was just giving the crowds a show! It’s about the drama, Y/N!”

“Drama?” you chuckled. “More like a slow dance with the wall! Lando warned you, didn’t he?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Lando is always going on about it. It’s like he thinks he can drive better just because he’s got a fancy new helmet.”

At that, you burst out laughing, imagining Lando prancing around, confidently boasting about helmet aerodynamics while utterly ignoring the zen of driving.

Lando had long since accepted his role in your friendship as the comedic relief, always reminding you both to loosen up amidst the pressure.

As the races sped by from more distant tracks like COTA to the legendary Brazil Grand Prix, your friendship deepened wonderfully, forming an unbreakable bond.

Instagram stories filled with laughter and spontaneous videos of Max’s antics, unfiltered and untamed, all while being followed by millions.

It wasn’t merely a friendship; it was an adventure, one you cherished.

“Oh, I’m definitely maxplaining this one for the Gram,” you declared one day, holding up your phone as Max attempted to juggle a football while simultaneously answering questions from fans.

“Y/N, focus! We need to practice our pre-race rituals, not showcase my juggling skills,” Max replied, though he couldn’t resist the allure of the camera, striking a mock-serious pose.

“Fine, focus mode activated! But I’ll always film your epic fails,” you bantered, capturing him dramatically failing to keep the football afloat.

The moments you shared were infused with invaluable lessons and effortless joy. It was on a chill evening following a hot race that things began to shift for you both.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t racing? Like, normal stuff?” you asked, settling comfortably in a lounge chair, your gaze fixed on the sunset outside the paddock.

Max paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes. It’s hard, though. Racing is everything I know—you lose track of reality. But I guess if I weren’t here...” he trailed off, his brow furrowing, “I’d probably be lost.”

“I get that,” you affirmed. “But you’re not just a racer, Max. You’re an inspiration to so many. It’s more than just speed; it’s the grit and passion the fans see.”

A shy smile crept across his face. “And you, Y/N, you’re more than just this influencer. You humanize the sport. You put a face to racing that isn’t just helmets and stats.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you felt a flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Max. That means a lot,” you replied, warmth spreading through you.

There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Have you ever thought about how this could go beyond racing?”

Your heart raced. “What do you mean?”

"Nothing," he muttered shyly, his ears went bright red and excused himself to finish his debriefing. . . .

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the park as Max leaned against a nearby wall, scrolling through his phone.

He had been enjoying his time with you, your banter and laughter filling the air, a comfortable rhythm you had established over the weeks.

Yet, beneath the surface of your friendship, Max felt a flicker of something deeper, a burgeoning affection he hadn’t quite dared to voice.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure approaching you—a tall, dark-haired guy who carried himself with an ease that annoyed Max for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

As the guy drew closer, he greeted you with a wide smile, and you responded with a tension in your shoulders that sent alarm bells ringing in Max’s head.

"Hey, Y/N!" the guy said, his voice overly cheerful as if he were trying to create an upbeat atmosphere. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

“Uh, hi, Ben,” you replied, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “I’ve been… good.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact while fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Max couldn’t hear the rest of your conversation, but he could see your discomfort rise like a tide. Ben leaned in closer, gesturing animatedly with his hands, and Max’s heart raced.

It was clear you wanted to retreat, but Ben seemed oblivious to your disinterest.

Max took a step off the wall, deciding he didn't like the way Ben was invading your personal space. He approached them, a casual yet protective demeanor in his stride.

“Hey, babe! There you are!” he had called out, forcing the brightness into his tone, hoping to drown out the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Your relief was evident as you turned to him with that light that made everything feel right.

“Oh! Maxy, hey!” you exclaimed, that simple greeting sending a jolt of happiness through him.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, a stark contrast to the cloud that overhung your expression when you were with Ben.

“Yeah, I just… um, was catching up with Ben here,” you said, the slight falter in your voice not going unnoticed by Max.

He felt a flicker of protectiveness flare up inside him, and he stepped closer, narrowing the space between you and Ben.

“Ben!” Max called, feigning cheerfulness as he directed his attention to the other guy, whose smile seemed to dim the moment he realized Max had entered the scene. “You’re still talking about high school? What a wild ride that was, right?”

Ben chuckled lightly, clearly irritated with Max's interruption but not wanting to show it. “Yeah, we were just reminiscing about old times,” he replied, shooting you a glance. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze darting away, unable to meet either of their eyes.

Max could see you were struggling, trapped in some unspoken tension, but he didn’t want to let you stay there any longer.

“Well, we’ve got our own plans,” Max interjected smoothly, a hint of challenge in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently.

“So, are you ready to grab that smoothie we talked about? The mango one?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator sharing a secret, “I hear it’s worth it.”

You caught his eyes, and in that moment, your gratitude was palpable.

“Yes! I could really go for a mango smoothie right now,” you said, the tension easing from your face as you shifted your weight towards Max, your unexpected ally in this moment.

“Smoothies are great for tackling the past,” Max added with an exaggerated grin at Ben, who now looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

Max felt a thrill of satisfaction watching the other man’s expression sour, knowing you were finally free to escape this uncomfortable confrontation.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ben forced through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into Max as if trying to figure him out.

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, the practiced politeness in your tone striking a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d shown Max.

Together, you turned away from Ben, the café’s atmosphere lightening as you stepped outside into the warm sun.

Once you reached the sidewalk, your sigh of relief was almost comical. “Thank you for that, Max. I didn’t know how to get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual while his heart raced. “Ben can be a little… intense, can’t he?”

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Intense is one way to put it. He has a way of making things complicated.”

“He’s... well, we have some history that’s not exactly fun,” you admitted, your expression somber as you waited for your smoothies.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked gently, his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn’t want to push you, but he was curious and concerned at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your phone. “It was just a complicated relationship. One of those where things started out great, but eventually spiraled into something toxic. It was… hard to let go.”

Max’s expression softened. “I understand. You don’t have to share everything if you’re not comfortable, though. I just want you to know I’m here for you, always.”

You smiled, a genuine light coming back to your eyes. “I appreciate that, Max. I think after all this time, I’ve finally learned what I want in my life. You just being here means a lot.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I wouldn’t want anyone to make you feel uncomfortable. You deserve better than that,” Max said, handing you the smoothie.

“Thanks, Max. You really are a great friend.” As you two walked away from the stand, you stole a glance at him, your eyes shining. “You know, I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

Max smiled. He just hoped he was something more to you. . . . .

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed unexpectedly. The screen lit up, revealing an incoming call from a number you recognized as belonging to Red Bull Racing's media team.

Your heart raced; you just had been following F1 closely, and your recent friendship with Max Verstappen had garnered its fair share of attention on social media.

You answered the call, curiosity piqued.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” a cheerful voice greeted on the other end.

“Yes, it is!” you replied, trying to sound composed. “Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Sarah from Red Bull's media team. We’ve been monitoring the amazing fan reactions to the content featuring you and Max. We’d love to capitalize on that momentum,” she explained.

"We’d like to invite you to join Max for a fun game, which we plan to share on our social media. Are you up for it?"

You couldn’t believe it. “Absolutely,”

“Great! We’ll set it up for tomorrow afternoon. You'll both be given ten questions. Some will be about F1, and others will be random. Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you hung up, excitement bubbling inside.

Who wouldn't want to play a game with one of F1's biggest stars?

The next day, you arrived at the Red Bull Racing headquarters, a breathtaking fusion of sleek modern design and rich motorsport culture.

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with genuine smiles from the team members bustling around, their energy infectious, the air thick with the anticipation that always brewed before a race.

ou could hear the chatter about tire compounds and race strategies, a symphony of excitement that made your heart race.

After a quick cup of coffee—rich and strong enough to zap you awake—you engaged in light banter with a few of the engineers, teasing them about the latest car performance.

Just as you were beginning to feel at home, Olivia, the content manager, came over and ushered me into a bright studio space designed explicitly for video content.

“Ready for some fun today?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m always ready for fun, especially with Max,” you replied with a grin.

As you entered the studio, you spotted Max Verstappen lounging against a table, his trademark red and blue cap perched backward on his head.

He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up with a warm grin.

“Hey! Finally, the famous Y/N has arrived!” he exclaimed, his tone playful and welcoming.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate, Max. I’m just the guy who occasionally shows up in your videos.”

“Nah, you’re a big deal now! Everyone loves the banter we have,” he insisted, pushing himself off the table and giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Ready to get this started?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see who knows the other better!” you replied, feeling playful and competitive.

Sarah stepped in, ready to explain the rules. “Alright, everyone! Here’s how it will work. You’ll each take turns asking questions, alternating between F1 trivia and personal ones. Let’s find out just how well you know each other!”

“Sounds good,” Max said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ladies first.”

“Alright, Max,” you said, preparing to razz him with your first question. “What’s my favorite food?”

He crossed his arms, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s easy—pasta! But the way you always go on about it makes it seem like you think you’re Italian.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Damn! You’ve been paying attention,” you replied with mock disbelief. “But just wait till you get yours.”

“Bring it on!” He replied, leaning in with an eager grin.

You took a deep breath and decided to up the ante. “Okay, here’s an F1 trivia question. What year did Red Bull Racing first win the Constructors’ Championship?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “2010,” You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

Then it was Max’s turn. He leaned closer, an intensity in his gaze. “What’s the last concert you went to?”

You paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “It was a Coldplay concert last year. They were amazing!”

The questions flowed naturally, and laughter filled the room as the banter turned to playful teasing. Each time he got an answer right, there was a spark—a moment of connection that seemed to linger in the air a second too long.

You caught him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his expression both challenging and curious.

“Okay, okay, I have one for you,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if ready to break some sacred bond. “What do I like to do on my days off?”

You squinted, trying to remember the few times the team had shared off days together. “Uh, you like spending time with your cats, and you also love to do sim racing?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Close! I do love spending time with sim racing, but I also spend too much time playing FIFA. You should’ve known that!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, your turn! What’s my guilty pleasure?”

Max smirked, a glint of mischief swirling in his gaze. “You’re definitely a sucker for reality TV. Pretty sure I’ve caught you watching Love Island USA a couple of times.”

“Guilty as charged!” you admitted, laughing along with him. “But I can defend my choices if you want—ahem, it’s simple entertainment!”

His lighthearted ribbing felt warm and right, and the camaraderie between the two of you had grown into a familiar rapport almost effortlessly.

As the Q&A continued, you both slowly drifted into laughter punctuated by thoughtful pauses where a silence spoke volumes.

You began to wonder if he felt the same magnetic pull you were experiencing. In those fleeting glances, you saw a flash of something—curiosity, longing—as if both of you were teetering on the edge of discovery.

Finally, as the game progressed toward the final question, Sarah interrupted with an excited sway. “Alright, I think we’re done for now! This video is definitely going to be a hit.”

You glanced at Max, who still wore that boyish grin—his energy infectious as he reveled in the laughter circulating around the room.

But deeper than that, you felt a weight pressing on your heart, urging you to say something more.

“Hey, Max, can I ask you something?” you called out, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity, and for a brief moment, it felt as though you were in a bubble, shut away from everyone else.

“About our chemistry—does it mean anything to you?” The question hung in the air like a transmitted spark, and you could see his expression turn serious, the lightness shifting into something deeper.

He took a moment, weighing your words. “Ever since we started being friends, it’s been… different. Fun, but something more,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you.

Your heart soared. Max was just as captivated by your chemistry as you were. It was as if some invisible thread had tethered you both, pulling you closer together.

With a casual flip of his cap back to forward, Max held your gaze. The laughter faded, and there you stood, surrounded by the energy of the Red Bull Racing headquarters, but your world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You felt the magnetic connection evolve into something tangible, something real that could break the barriers between colleagues and something much deeper—a thrilling journey ahead sparked by an unexpected electric tension. . . .

You glided down the hallway, adrenaline and excitement coursing through your veins. This was no ordinary night; in an unexpected twist, Max had chosen you to accompany him to an exclusive F1 gala.

You had always seen him as more than just a friend, but the tension between you had never been openly addressed—until now.

The door to the living room gave way, revealing Max perched comfortably on the sofa, his classic black tuxedo accentuating the chiselled lines of his physique. His tousled dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. But when he turned to face you, his expression changed from admiration to sheer shock.

“How do I look?” you asked playfully, knowing full well that the dress you wore clung to your curves in just the right way.

Lifting the last of your earrings into place, you caught his gaze, lingering far too long on your neckline.

Max’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stammered, “I-uh- You look— You look great.”

His eyes seemed glued to your chest, and you smirked at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, let’s keep our thoughts innocent,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He blinked rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and his cheeks tinged with a light shade of crimson. “Right. Innocent. Of course.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to regain composure.

“You look—really beautiful. I mean, not that you don’t always…”

You laughed softly, enjoying the fluster you’d caused in the usually confident driver. “Thanks, Max. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his tux and shooting you a half-welcoming smile. “Ready to go? I think I’m about to break a world record for the longest time spent staring without saying anything coherent.”

“Let’s get out of here before you break any more records,” you replied, grabbing your clutch and heading toward the door.

The gala was being held at a splendid venue in Monaco, the ambiance glowing with extravagance. The soft sounds of classical music floated through the air as you and Max made your way inside, adorned in gold and silver decorations.

It felt surreal, the elegance around you contrasting sharply with the adrenaline-fueled world of racing that was Max’s daily routine.

As you entered, the murmurs of guests turned into a wave of excitement. “Max! Over here!” A handful of fans spotted him, rushing forward with cameras and excited whispers.

You watched as he interacted with them effortlessly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A wave of pride washed over you; he was not just a friend but a superstar—one of the best drivers in the world.

After several moments of mingling with his fans, he returned to your side, breathless from the attention.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice now lowered to an almost intimate whisper. “It’s... a lot sometimes.”

You offered him a warm smile, knowing how taxing the spotlight could be. “It’s nice to see you outside of the track. You can actually relax for once.”

With that notion in mind, he later led you to the bar, where you both ordered drinks—Max preferring a classic whiskey while you chose a sparkling signature cocktail adorned with fresh fruit.

As you sipped your second drink, you turned to him. “So, any secret dreams for the season?”

Max leaned back against the bar, an amused smile stretching across his face. “Well, aside from winning, I might want to one-up my last season’s record. Or maybe…”

He paused dramatically, “I was hoping for a podium finish on our next outing in Italy. It’s always been a special place for me.”

“Why is that? The food, the scenery?” you queried, genuinely curious.

“It’s got the perfect blend of everything. The passion, the fans... And the tire placements at Monza are—well, they’re quite thrilling,” he explained, his enthusiasm evident.

You listened, fascinated by his love for the sport and the intricacies he shared. “I can see why you love it so much,” you replied, “It’s like an art form...”

“Exactly!” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “And speaking of art, I could hardly choose an artwork more stunning than you tonight.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you chuckled softly. “Smooth, Max. Just remember, I’m not a trophy to be won.”

“More like a prize, then,” he shot back, his grinning eyes glinting in the light.

After what felt like a whirl of conversations and laughter, you noticed the transition in the evening. As Max caught your gaze, he spoke softly, “Say, would you like to dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. “Dance? I’m not even sure I know how to—”

“You know how to sway, don’t you?” he teased, offering his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you shifted onto the dance floor, surrounded by elegantly dressed couples twirling and gliding with grace. The music faded into an intoxicating sound that seemed to pull you both closer together.

His hand found the small of your back, guiding you smoothly.

“What do you think?” he whispered in your ear as you found your rhythm. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” you replied, heart racing as you shared his space. The warmth from his body enveloped you, grounding you.

Eventually, the song slowed, and as you swayed in closer, you could feel the heat radiating between you. It was a different rhythm now, one that echoed the unspoken tension of your friendship.

You felt his breath hitch as he leaned closer, inhaling softly.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“Yeah?” You searched his face, and the way his eyes flickered with vulnerability sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad I chose you to come with me tonight,” he admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not just a date; you’re... you’re everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I care about you. More than just a friend,” he confessed, the courage of his words electrifying.

And there it was, laid bare before you in the most romantic of settings.

“Max, I feel the same.”

His gaze held yours, vulnerability mixing with unfettered joy. The music around you faded, but the world felt suspended in time, just the two of you wrapped in honesty.

He took a breath, then leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours, tentative at first. You melted into the kiss, feeling like the most cherished person in the room.

The night had transformed into something truly unforgettable, and you knew that this moment was the beginning of something beautiful.

You wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone beside you on the bedside table. Light streams through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of your living room, remnants from the night before—glasses, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of champagne.

You try to ignore the phone, but the buzzing doesn’t stop, and neither does the nauseating flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

“Who is it?” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the screen. Max’s name flashes back at you, and your heart races. Memories come flooding back. The party. The laughter.

His lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made everything else in the room melt away. The kiss—a moment suspended in time, etched forever into your mind.

But then everything changed. The kiss had been captured, and going viral made it feel all too public. You had fallen for him—hard—but now the weight of that kiss felt like a betrayal.

You were terrified it would affect his career, and yet, what happened was beautiful. You cannot reconcile the two.

“God, what have I done?” You bury your face in your hands as shame washes over you. The thought of what the public would say twists like a knife in your heart.

You pick up your phone and stare at it, the guilt tightening its grip on your throat. You tell yourself you should call Max, but what would you even say?

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. You let it ring through to voicemail, your thumb hovering over the disconnect button.

“Hey, it’s Max Verstappen. I’m probably busy right now, but please leave a message.” His cheerful voice rings out, and you hear the tremor of hope in it.

You feel like you might cry, but you can’t give in. Not now. You drop the phone back onto the table, letting out a shaky breath.

A few hours later, you finally get out of bed and make yourself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will steady your nerves. On impulse, you switch on your laptop.

The first thing you see is a headline blaring from every angle: Max and Y/N: The Viral Kiss That Broke the Internet. Your heart sinks further. This was surreal and terrifying all at once.

“Incredible,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You want to escape from it all. In that moment, the coffee tastes bitter.

Later that afternoon, you’re stirring the milk when your phone lights up again. It’s Max. You feel a rush of warmth mixed with dread.

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you stare at his name. Finally, you press the button, willing yourself to answer.

“Hello?” his voice is light, almost cheerful, and you can hear how easy it is for him to smile despite the chaos surrounding both of you.

“Max,” you manage, voice shaky. “We need to talk.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you okay?” His concern is palpable. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “About last night… the kiss… the cameras… I can't help but feel like I’ve ruined your career somehow. We’re all over the media, Max! What if it affects your races? Your reputation?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interjects, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t ruin anything. Trust me. In fact, I’m glad it happened. I wanted people to know how I feel.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” you manage, frustration creeping in. “You’re an F1 driver. Your image matters.”

“Yeah, but my heart matters more,” he replies, and there's an unmistakable intensity in his tone. “You matter more.”

“Max, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. Those words run like electricity through you.

“You and me… last night was amazing—life-changing, actually. I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time, and it finally happened.” He chuckles softly, the sound bringing a small smile to your lips.

“All the media chatter is just noise. I'm happy people see how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll twist it. They’ll make it sound like you’re just some guy who kisses his fans! This isn’t a good look!”

“Listen,” he says firmly. “If they want to spin it that way, let them. But I know the truth, and so do you. I didn’t kiss a fan; I kissed the person I care about the most. That’s you, and nothing anyone says will change that.”

You feel like you could cry. Max’s words are a balm for your frayed nerves. But still, the doubt claws at you. “What if it backfires? What if it affects your team’s performance?”

“It won’t,” he insists, voice lighter now. “I thrive on pressure. Trust me; if I can drive a Formula 1 car at 200 miles an hour, I can manage whatever they throw at me. More importantly, it’s you I want in my life. Can you at least think about that?”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. You take a moment, letting it seep in. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you face backlash.”

“Only if you don’t call back,” he says, teasing you gently. “But seriously, let’s enjoy this. Go out with me, just once, without worrying about the cameras.”

“I don’t even know how the press will react,” you sigh.

“Then surprise them. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll be there.”

You can feel your heart racing as you mull it over, but deep down, something beautiful stirs—a possibility, a spark. You could face the chaos together.

Finally, you admit, “Okay, then. Tomorrow, let’s go to that Italian place we love. But just a warning: I’m not putting on a show for anyone.”

“Perfect. Just you, me, and pasta,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a little.

As you hang up, you stare out the window, meeting your own gaze in the reflection.

The episode before you has unsettled you, but perhaps, just perhaps, you and Max are writing the first chapter of something profound—something that even the world beyond the two of you could never fully understand.

Your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead. . . .

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting playful patterns on the floor as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart raced with excitement and nerves as you brushed the last strokes of mascara on your lashes.

You wanted to look your best, not just for yourself, but for Max. After the viral moment that had your names splashed across every social media feed, meeting up felt like stepping into a whirlwind you couldn’t escape, nor did you want to.

“You look amazing!” your best friend Mia said, planting herself on your bed, her phone in hand. “That dress is perfect for you!”

You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric swirling around your legs. “Do you think he’ll even notice?” you laughed nervously, trying to inject levity into the situation.

“Are you kidding? Max will definitely notice. He’s been on cloud nine since that kiss!” Mia replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, who wouldn’t be a little distracted by the thought of a girl like you?”

Just then, the sound of your phone buzzing stole your attention. You rushed over, your heart leaping when you saw Max’s name.

“Hey!” you said, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey!” he replied, his voice warm and a little nervous. “I’m outside. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” you hurried to grab your jacket and purse, glancing at Mia over your shoulder. She gave you a thumbs-up and a grin before you dashed down the stairs and out the door.

Max stood leaning against his car, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted navy shirt and jeans that accentuated his athletic figure. His hair was slightly tousled, the sun catching the glint in his blue eyes as he turned to you.

“Wow,” he said, his smile widening. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to act cool while your cheeks heated up.

“Ready for our big adventure?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a laugh, settling into the passenger seat.

Max drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as you occasionally glanced at one another, the tension palpable yet exciting. Eventually, you broke the silence.

“So, about that kiss…” you began, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

Max chuckled, a little shyly, “You mean the one that broke the internet?”

“Yeah, that one! Do you think… I mean, how do you feel about it?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

He glanced at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Honestly? I’m still pinching myself. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that, but when I saw you, it was like everything else faded away.”

“Same here,” you admitted, your gaze locked onto his profile, trying to decipher his thoughts. “But now the whole world knows, and that’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I wasn’t ready for the headlines either. But I kind of love that we’re doing this together, even if people are watching.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the attention?” you asked, concern flickering across your features. “I mean, we didn’t even talk about what this means.”

Max reached over and placed his hand on yours, sending a warm jolt through your arm. “I’m okay with it because it’s you. I like you, and I want to see where this can go, with all the chaos around us.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “So, how about we forget about the cameras and just enjoy our time together?”

Nodding eagerly, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. “I’d like that.”

You spent the afternoon at a quaint café downtown, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee setting a cozy atmosphere. You shared stories over pastries, laughter ringing between you both as you learned more about one another.

“Okay, your turn,” you said after Max revealed his embarrassing childhood nickname. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Max took a moment to think, a slight furrow spreading across his brow. “Honestly? Losing the people I care about. Being a driver means that you travel a lot which means you lose friends quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a rush of empathy.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “It taught me to value the people in my life even more. I guess that’s why I feel so lucky to have met you.”

Your heart fluttered as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Also, I’m terrified of clowns.”

You burst into laughter, the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious.”

“I am! They’re just so unpredictable,” he insisted, his expression mock-stern. “One minute they’re juggling, and the next, they’re doing who knows what.”

You continued to share stories and tease each other, the world beyond the restaurant fading away. It wasn’t until you stepped out into the warm evening that you realized just how much you enjoyed his company.

“Wanna take a walk?” Max suggested, his hand naturally finding yours.

“I’d love to,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his while you strolled through the twinkling lights of the downtown streets.

As you walked, the conversation flowed easily, your laughter mingling with the warm evening breeze. With every passing moment, the nervousness that had initially gripped you dissipated, replaced by a growing affection.

Then, as you rounded a quieter corner near the park, Max paused, turning to face me. The city lights danced in his eyes, and the warmth between you two was undeniable.

“Can I—” he hesitated, his gaze searching yours, “Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering wildly. “Definitely.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss was different, deeper, and more meaningful than the last—an unspoken promise of what was to come.

You pulled away, and you laughed breathlessly, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, if this goes viral too, at least it’ll be a better story,” Max teased, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Let them talk!” you giggled, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. “As long as it’s with you, I’m in.”

“Good,” he replied, his expression sincere. “Because I think we’re just getting started.”

With that, hand in hand, you continued your stroll, the world around you two fading into a beautiful blur as you embraced the adventure that lay ahead—together.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the paddock. You and Max walked hand in hand, the sensation both electrifying and soothing.

The world had made a spectacle of your private moment, and now, as you stepped into the paddock, everyone watched, their eyes glimmering with curiosity and amusement.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you caught his gaze.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper—an unspoken promise that made your heart race.

Max chuckled, a warm laugh that seemed to drown out the chatter of the surrounding crowd. “Look at you, though. How can I not? You’re stunning today,” he said, his fingers gently squeezing yours.

He was always so effortless, a confidence that could light up a room, and now he was casting that glow on you.

You blushed slightly, trying to suppress a smile. “You know that’s not fair. You always know what to say to make me squirm,” you replied playfully, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, turning serious for a moment. “You have to know how lucky I feel. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

The sincerity in his words made you feel exposed, yet cherished.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Lucky, huh? You’re the one racing in the fastest cars in the world. I’m just here, taking selfies and trying not to trip over all the cables.”

He squeezed your hand, a reassuring gesture that made you feel as if the two of you were in your own little world, separate from the high-octane chaos surrounding you. “Nah, the real race is in my heart. And you’ve won it.”

“Smooth talker,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully, though your heart fluttered at his words. “Just wait until you end up on the podium again; you’ll be too busy celebrating to remember little ol’ me.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. “You know I’d dedicate every race to you if I could. Last time on the podium—remember? I pointed to you. That was for you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, your smile wide. “You were practically glowing. It was such an amazing moment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier,” Max said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. “Every time I look at you, I get reminded of what really matters.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me cry,” you joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in your tone. “Don’t ruin my makeup, please!”

Max laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “I promise, I won’t deliberately make you cry. But you are basically my good luck charm. You have to come to every race now.”

“Deal. But I get to pick the after-party spots,” you replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who said I was going to take you to an after-party? I might want to just take you home and cook you dinner.”

“Cook? You?” You laughed. “I thought you’d just rely on takeout after the races.”

“I can surprise you,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there’s something nice about a home-cooked meal. Wouldn’t you want to try my pasta? I’ve perfected it over the years.”

“Fine, but it better not be like the time you tried to make pancakes and turned them into a science experiment,” you shot back, remembering the sticky disaster that had resulted in laughter and flour-coated walls.

“Hey! That was one time. I’m much better now,” he insisted, pretending to be offended. But the twinkle in his eyes told you he was just teasing.

As you walked past the team garages, you noticed the crew setting up for the next race, and the adrenaline of the environment pulsed through you. “Max, look at all of this hustle and bustle. Doesn’t it make your heart race?”

He nodded, his expression serious now as he gazed at the busy scene. “Definitely. It’s the thrill of competition—everyone’s working hard for one goal. But to me, nothing compares to this moment with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

“I try my best,” he admitted, a playful grin returning. “But honestly, you inspire me to push harder, to be better. I want to win races, not just for myself, but for you.”

“Max, that’s so sweet. Just promise me you won’t risk it all out there. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

His expression softened, and he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise. I’ll always be careful. You and I have a lifetime of moments to create together, and I won’t let anything take that away.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as you simply enjoyed each other’s company. The world around you became a blur, and it felt as if time stood still.

“Alright, what’s next on our agenda?” Max asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

You glanced around thoughtfully. “How about we grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Perfect! I know this great place just down the road. And after that, I’ll show you my secret hiding spot in the paddock where I keep my trophies,” he said, winking at you.

“Trophies and secrets? You really do know how to woo a girl,” you replied, playfully nudging him as you both started walking toward the exit.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve,” he said confidently, pulling you closer as you stepped into the evening light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever adventures were ahead. "You are my priority after all,"

[mysunshinetemptress]

Unseen, Unwanted, Indifferent

Leah Williamson x McCabe!reader

Warnings: Pure angst

Read part 1&2 here-You see me Wanted,Unwanted

The makeup wipe snagged on a stray eyelash, leaving a black streak against your cheek. Frustration bubbled up, mirroring the turmoil in your stomach. Leah's birthday party was in two hours, and doubt gnawed at you like a hungry rat.

The vintage Thiery Henry jersey framed in corner of your room, the one you didn't even debate on gifting to Leah, suddenly felt childish, a relic from a past life before Leah. A life where "pretty enough" wasn't a constant mantra echoing in your head.

What if she didn't like it," "What if she wanted you to buy her a fancy necklace...a ring...a bracelet, not a jersey that had been hanging up in your bedroom since you were seven." You shook your head "She'll love it her Mam said so."

You forced a smile, the reflection in the mirror unconvincing. Leah's Mam might have said it, but sometimes moms sugarcoated things, especially when it came to their precious daughters. You gnawed on your lip, the familiar metallic tang a grounding presence.

The jersey, a faded crimson with the legendary "14" emblazoned on the back, held memories. Memories of childhood afternoons spent glued to the TV, mesmerized by Henry's lightning-fast runs and audacious goals. It wasn't just a jersey; it was a symbol of a passion you shared with Leah, a connection forged over the love for a team, and the idolisation of the same player.

Taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't a diamond necklace, but it was genuine. You weren't some sugar daddy showering Leah with trinkets, you were her girlfriend, someone who understood the pure joy of a perfectly placed volley.

Suddenly, a different fear pricked at you. What if you weren't good enough to attend her party as her girlfriend, you were quite and happy to fade into the back with your small circle, Leah was a social butterfly, someone who didn't mind attention and fed off it well, were you good enough for her.

You rang out your hands shaking your head, of course, you were you had to be she wouldn't be dating you this long if she didn't think you were good enough for her, pretty enough for her, right?

"She loves me, she said so herself," you whispered to yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror again before turning to the clock.

The pep talk you delivered yourself wasn't entirely convincing. You grabbed the frame, the crimson a little duller under the harsh light, and held it against your chest. It felt reassuringly familiar, the worn fabric whispering stories of epic matches and shared cheers.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled through Leah's social media. Pictures of her beaming next to the girls, all perfectly styled and radiating confidence, filled the screen. Each one felt like a tiny jab of doubt. But then, tucked between selfies with the Arsenal, Lioness and Milton Keynes friends, was a picture of you two, arms linked, celebrating a goal during a recent match. Leah's smile was genuine, her eyes crinkled with laughter, focused solely on you.

"She loves you," you breathed, a mantra against the storm brewing inside.

Taking a deep breath, you messaged Leah. "On my way! Can't wait to celebrate with you." A heart emoji followed a small gesture that felt significant right now.

Arriving into the private room the music thumps loudly in your ears as you search for someone you might know, your sister or Leah preferably.

The door swung shut behind you, plunging you into a cacophony of pulsing music and excited chatter. Strobe lights cast the room in a dizzying array of colors, momentarily obscuring the faces in the crowd. The vintage jersey felt heavy against your chest, a symbol of your anxieties more than a birthday gift.

A knot formed in your stomach as you scanned the room. Faces blurred together – a sea of unfamiliar laughter and flashing smiles. Panic clawed at your throat. Where was Leah? Where was anyone you recognized?

Just as despair threatened to engulf you, a familiar figure emerged from the throng. Your sister, clad in a brightly colored dress that clashed spectacularly with the club's dim lighting, spotted you and waved enthusiastically, a beacon in the sea of strangers. Relief washed over you as you hurried towards her, the pounding music muted by the whoosh of returning confidence.

"Hey you!" Katie greeted you with a hug, her voice barely audible over the music. "There you are! I was starting to think you got lost."

"Almost did," you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. You cast a glance around the room again, searching for Leah amongst the dancing bodies. "Have you seen Leah?"

"She's over by the food table," your sister pointed towards the opposite corner of the room. "Looks like she's being swarmed by admirers." She gave you a knowing wink.

A pang of insecurity flickered within you. Images of Leah's social media feed flashed in your mind – the dazzling smiles, the effortless coolness of her friends. Would you be overshadowed by the crowd? Were you good enough for her world?

Taking a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders. You weren't here to compete. You were here for Leah, for the shared passion that transcended the glitz and the noise. With a newfound determination, you thanked your sister and weaved your way through the throng of dancing bodies, the pulsating music thrumming in your chest, a rhythm that echoed the beat of your own heart.

Katie nudged you "Come on, I've actually got a surprise for you." You looked at her brows pushed together in confusion. Surprise. What surprise ? it wasn't your birthday.

You smiled as you arrived in front of Leah, butterflies erupting as she turned to look at you her own smile seeming to grow ten times bigger, suddenly every doubt you'd had throughout the night had disappeared and was replaced by swells of butterflies lots and lots of butterflies.

Leah moved pulling you into a tight hug "I was starting to think you might never show." You shook your head "I wouldn't miss it for anything." Leah squeezed your hand looking down at the frame before looking at Katie as the Irish girl cleared her throat.

"Before Y/n gives you her present, I thought I would give you mine." Katie paused as Leah felt her heart sink, squeezing your hand to gain your attention you turned still smiling only for it to falter at the look on the older girl's face "Y/n..I...I'm so sorry." You titled your head slightly confusion written across your face as Katie began to speak again.

"I never thought you would go through with it mate, but the fact you have made Y/n fall so hard for you is impressive, what's even more impressive is the fact you've strung her along for this long., so without further a do, here the 100 pounds for holding up your end of the deal, and here's an extra 50 just for keeping it going for so long, fair play."

You flicked your head between Leah and Katie trying to figure out what was going on.

The air hung heavy with betrayal. The pulsating music seemed to mock you, a cruel soundtrack to your shattering world. Leah's hand, moments ago warm and welcoming, felt clammy and distant in yours. You fought the urge to yank it free, the familiar crimson of the jersey a burning reminder of your misplaced trust.

A million questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you. But all that escaped your lips was a choked whisper, "Leah?"

Her gaze wouldn't meet yours. Shame, or maybe something more sinister, flickered across her face before she mumbled an apology, its sincerity lost in the deafening silence that had descended upon the small group.

"What's going on, what is she talking about." Leah wouldn't look at you so you looked at Katie "Katie." Katie let out a laugh at the look on your face "Wow Le you really got her good, she looks so heartbroken."

The world tilted on its axis. The laughter you heard morphed into a distorted jeer, the music into a relentless cacophony. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, mirroring the frantic beat of a trapped bird.

Leah's silence was an accusation in itself. The warmth of her hug just moments ago felt like a cruel mirage. You clutched the jersey tighter, a shield against the icy tendrils of betrayal that snaked their way through you.

Finally, forcing your voice past the lump in your throat, you rasped, "Leah, please... tell me it's not true." You yearned for her to deny it, to laugh it off as some elaborate, misguided prank. But the hollowness in her eyes confirmed your worst fears.

Shame burned hot on your cheeks. How could you have been so blind? The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night morphed into a monstrous realisation – you hadn't been paranoid, you'd just been too trusting.

Anger, hot and fierce, bubbled up within you. Katie's smug laughter grated on your nerves. "A bet, You were a bet." The words tumbled out, laced with laughter and a humour that surprised you.

Katie's words hung in the air, a cruel punchline to a terrible joke. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend. You were a pawn in some twisted game. The vintage jersey, a symbol of shared passion moments ago, now felt heavy with the weight of a lie.

Heat flooded your cheeks, a burning tide of humiliation. You wanted to curl up into a ball, to cry to disappear from Leah, Katie, and the entire room that seemed to be closing in on you. But there was no hole to swallow you up. All you could manage was a choked laugh, a pathetic sound that echoed your shattered heart.

Leah, her face now pale, stammered something, an apology maybe, but it was lost in the roaring storm of emotions within you. You didn't need to hear it. You saw the truth reflected in her eyes – a truth far uglier than any betrayal. Pity, perhaps. Regret, at most. But no love.

“I mean come on pal hardly you actually thought that.” Katie smiled at you "Why would she choose you, for crying out loud she didn't even know who you were till you came off your loan, that's how how unseen you are."

You straighten your back, the framed jersey suddenly feeling foreign in your hands. Mustering all your strength, you meet Katie's gaze, your voice surprisingly steady. "A hundred pounds? That's all I was worth to you, Leah?"

Leah flinches, her eyes welling up. You wait for a denial, an explanation, anything. But there's nothing. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the throbbing music that seems to mock your pain.

The familiar metallic tang of blood filled your mouth as you bit down on your lip. You needed to escape. The pulsating music, the flashing lights, the throng of oblivious dancers, it all felt suffocating. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

With a strength born of desperation, you shove the frame into Leah's hands muttering a small happy birthday before pushing past her, ignoring her outstretched hand, ignoring Katie's voice calling after you. Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you weaved through the crowd, the thumping music a dull counterpoint to the storm raging inside.

Reaching the doorway, you stumbled out into the cool night air, the sudden quiet a physical blow. Gasping for breath, you leaned against the wall. What were you meant to do now.

Inside Amanda came pushing through the Arsenal girls before reaching her daughter “Where is she off to then we are about to do the cake.” Leah turned to look at her mum cheeks blotchy and tears in her eyes “Mum….i.”

The words poured out of Leah's mouth like a waterfall as she explained the horrible bet to Amanda, who began to feel nauseous at the thought of her daughter being so cruel, to you, the girl who was so scared to meet them, you who felt to unimportant to sit in the living room with them you would prefer to hold up the doorway, her daughter had just broken the heart of the most genuine kind girl she had met, in the most horrible way possible.

"I'm sorry you did what." Leah's eyes dropped to the ground unable to look at her mother's disappointed face. "I.....Leah of all the things and to Y/n.....Y/n she god Leah she was it she was your one....she's the one we all wanted the one we were all gunning for how.....how could you be so cruel and to Y/n I'm so disappointed, I actually can't even look at you." Leah turned “Mum…I.” But Amanda was gone.

The cool night air slapped you awake, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the club. Tears welled up again, blurring the neon glow of the street signs. A hundred pounds. A bet. The words echoed in your head, a relentless drumbeat drowning out everything else.

Suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder. You flinched, expecting Leah, but it was your sister, Katie, a worried frown etched on her face. "Y/n, wait!"

You glared at her, the anger a hot coal in your chest. "Don't even try it, Katie."

"Look, I know this is messed up," she began, but you cut her off.

"Messed up? That's an understatement." Your voice trembled, but you held her gaze. "How could Leah do this? How could you?"

Katie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It was stupid, a stupid bet. I never thought she'd actually go through with it."

You scoffed. "Right, because Leah is Miss Perfect, incapable of making bad choices." The sarcasm dripped from your voice.

"She is a good person, Y/n," Katie insisted, but the conviction was lacking.

You shook your head, the betrayal cutting deep. "No, she's not. Not if she can treat someone like a pawn in some sick game."

"You're supposed to be my sister, I thought when I finally got to Arsenal you might love me as much as the others, that we could be actual sisters." Katie looked at your face full of regret "I do love you Y/n." You shook your head "No you don't, if you loved me you wouldn't have ever done this to me, you would never do this to Ella, or Lauryn would you?."

Katie reached out, but you flinched away. "Don't touch me."

Katie felt the guilt begin to eat away at her "Let me at least bring you home." You shook your head stepping away from her a single tear running down your cheek "No need I already called Mam."

Katie's eyebrows pushed together in confusion "Mam's at home." You smiled sadly at her "No she's not she flew out last night, i thought it was time she meet my girlfriend."

Katie felt nauseous as she began to realise just how far this sick joke had gone, you really fell in love.

“You really love her.” Katie said surprised, you nodded as tears began to roll down your cheeks “She is the first person that saw me, in the chaos of our lives she saw me, She wanted me for the first time in my life I was wanted, picked by someone who wasn’t my parents or my siblings because the felt bad, or so I thought turns out she’s indifferent, I’m nothing to her but 100 pounds.” Katie went to step forward again but turned at the sound of your Mam shouting. “Leave her alone right now Katie McCabe or so help me god.”

“Mam.” Your Mother shook her head “I don’t want to hear a word from you do you understand.” Katie shut her mouth nodding as she dropped her head.

You threw yourself into her arms, the dam breaking as you sobbed into her shoulder. The betrayal, the humiliation, the pain – it all came pouring out in a torrent of tears.

Your mom held you tight, her voice a soothing balm. "It's okay, love. Let it all out."

Katie watched from a distance, the weight of her guilt crushing her. The prank that started as a harmless joke had spiralled into a devastating betrayal. She had hurt you, her own sister, and she knew she might never be able to make things right.

Your mother held you for what felt like hours, whispering reassurances as you choked out sobs. The city lights blurred through the veil of your tears, each flicker reflecting a shard of your shattered heart. Finally, your cries subsided into hiccups, leaving behind a raw ache and a dull throbbing in your head.

Pulling back, your mother cupped your tear-streaked face, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Why they did this, sweetheart, is because they're cruel and shallow. But their actions don't define your worth. You, Y/n, are strong, kind, and deserving of real love. Don't you ever forget that."

Her words, laced with love and unwavering belief, were a soothing balm to your wounded spirit. You leaned into her touch, finding solace in the familiar warmth. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped at your eyes. "I just...don't understand. Why would Leah do this?"

Your mother sighed, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. "Sometimes, people make terrible choices, honey. But Leah will have to live with the consequences of her actions, just like Katie."

You head straight for your room when you get home, ignoring the buzzing of your phone you mutter a quick goodnight to your Mam before shutting your door and crawling under the covers, before beginning to cry again.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless. You should've known. The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night wasn't paranoia, it was your intuition screaming unheard. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend, you were a punchline in a cruel joke.

Anger, hot and fierce, flared within you, momentarily pushing back the tide of sadness. You grabbed your phone, the need to confront Leah burning in your gut. But what was there to say? The silence at the club spoke volumes.

Your thumb hovered over Leah's name, then hovered some more. Finally, with a deep breath, you deleted her contact. A small act of defiance in a night that felt like a complete and utter defeat.

Exhaustion settled over you like a heavy blanket. You curled into a ball, the hollowness in your chest a constant ache. Sleep, when it came, was a restless affair, filled with fragmented memories of flashing lights, pulsating music, and Leah's cold, emotionless eyes.

You awake the next morning to your Mam at your bedroom door saying there was a woman at the door who wanted to talk to you.

You let out a huff tearing off the covers before heading to the kitchen. You stop dead at the sight of Amanda sitting in your kitchen having a cough before your bottom lip starts to wobble.

Amanda jumps up from her seat before wrapping her arms tightly around you "Oh darling I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." You shake your head "I'm sorry too Amanda, I'm so sorry I wasn't good enough for her."

Amanda pulls back, cupping your face gently. "Sweetheart, you are more than good enough. Leah's actions are a reflection of her own shallowness, not your worth. You have a kind heart, a brilliant mind, and a passion that shines brighter than any trophy."

Her words sink in, a flicker of warmth battling the lingering chill of betrayal. You nod, wiping away a stray tear. "Thanks,Amanda."

"Can I get you some tea, love?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

You nod gratefully, sinking into a chair at the table. As Amanda bustles around the kitchen, you steal a glance at the woman who, until yesterday, was your girlfriend's mother. The sight of her fills you with a mix of emotions – anger, sadness, and a flicker of curiosity.

Amanda returns, placing a steaming mug in front of you. You mutter out a small thank you before clearing your throat "How is she?." Amanda's face softens "Y/n we don't have to..." You shake your head "Please."

She hesitates, her brow furrowed. "She's a mess, to be honest. She told me everything last night, and I was… well, let's just say I'm not happy with her. Not one bit."

Relief washes over you, a small comfort amidst the wreckage of your heart. "What did she say?"

Amanda takes a sip of her tea, her gaze distant. "She said it was a stupid bet, that she never meant to hurt you. But frankly, intentions don't matter much when the result is this much pain."

"A hundred pounds. That's all I was worth to her?" Your words come out in a chocked sob.

Amanda reaches across the table, squeezing your hand. "Honey, you are priceless. Don't you ever let anyone tell you differently.

Later that day, your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You open it cautiously, your breath catching in your throat when you see the name: Leah.

The messages are all the same, short and to the point: "Y/n, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

You stare at the screen, a war raging within you. Part of you wants to unleash a torrent of anger, to make her understand the depth of your pain. But another part, a smaller, wounded part, aches for her.

The next few days are a blur. Ignoring your teammates who all seemed to know about the bet, you couldn't help but question if they had been part of it too in opening up and getting to know you, including you in things. Your mam becomes your rock, offering endless cups of tea, movie marathons, and fiercely supportive silences.

You're asleep on the couch when you begin to hear shouting, you sit up rubbing your eyes before going to stand before moving more quickly as you here your Mam let out a shout for someone to leave

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you bolted towards the front door. The shouting was unmistakeable - your Mum's voice laced with anger, and another, muffled voice pleading its case. Bursting into the hallway, you skidded to a stop, taking in the scene before you.

There, on the doorstep, stood Leah. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her hair a mess, a stark contrast to the composed figure she usually presented. Your Mam, arms crossed and face thunderous, stood blocking the doorway. Amanda stood behind Leah tugging on her arm trying to get her out of your driveway.

"Absolutely not, Leah!" your Mam boomed, her voice echoing in the small hallway. "You had your chance, and you blew it in the most horrendous way."

Leah flinched, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I know, Mrs. McCabe, I know. I was awful, and I deeply regret it. But please, just let me talk to Y/n. I need to apologise properly."

Leah's words die in her throat at the sight of you standing behind your Mam so small, so sad, so broken "Y/n" Your Mam turns immediately and Amanda's hands seem to grip Leah's arm tighter as she goes to step into your house.

You step back as Leah steps forward again "You haven't answered any of my texts...I..." You can't help but laugh internally at Leah's lack of words, but it also feels even more crushing than the night of her birthday party, that's all she can say, that you haven't answered her texts.

The cynical part of you snorts. You clench your fists, the anger threatening to bubble over. But before you can unleash it, your Mam speaks, her voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness.

"Leah, honey, I understand you're sorry. But actions speak louder than words, and yours spoke volumes. Y/n needs time to heal. She trusted you, and you betrayed that trust in a cruel way."

Leah hangs her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know, Mrs. McCabe. I was an idiot. A terrible person. But please, believe me when I say I never meant to hurt Y/n like this. It started as a stupid bet...a dare, really. But it spiraled, and I…"

"And you let it go on," your Mam finishes, her voice colder now. "You let it go on for who knows how long, playing with Y/n's affections. That's not a mistake, Leah. That's a conscious choice."

The truth hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating weight. Leah opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You see a flicker of something in her eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps just a glimpse of the pain you're feeling mirrored back at you.

Amanda looks at you sadly as she tugs Leah's arm "Come on Le." Leah pulled her arm out of her mum's grip "I love you." You felt your heart sink as your eyes welled up with more tears, shaking your head you stepped out from behind your own mam, "No you don't." Leah shook her head "I do." you stepped forward this time within arm's length.

Leah doesn't hesitate to step closer before putting her hands on your waist and pulling you in, you don't fit it, you can't this is all you've wanted since her birthday so you sink into you wrap your arms around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

Your voice, laced with a quiet strength that surprised even yourself, cut through the tension. "Love isn't a word you throw around after breaking someone's heart, Leah. Love is about respect, about trust, about building something real together. You built a house of cards on lies, and now you're surprised it crumbled?"

Tears streamed down Leah's face, her voice trembling. "Y/n, please. I know I messed up. I was stupid, and I let pride get the better of me. But the time we spent together, the way you made me laugh, the way you understood my passion for the game... that was real. I never meant for it to go this far."

You scoffed, a humorless sound. "Convenient, isn't it? To pick and choose what parts were real and what were just a game. Because let's be honest, Leah, that's all I ever was to you, wasn't I? A pawn in your little bet."

Leah flinched, but you pressed on, your voice gaining momentum. "Maybe you never meant to 'hurt' me, but you did. You shattered my trust, made me question everything I thought we had. And for what? A hundred pounds and a cheap thrill?"

Silence descended once more, heavy and suffocating. You pulled back seeing the flicker of shame in Leah's eyes, but it did little to ease the ache in your heart.

Leah's lips trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I... I care about you, Y/n. I really do."

"Care isn't enough, Leah," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within. "You had a chance at something real, something special. You threw it away for a hundred pounds and a cheap laugh. How can I ever trust you again?"

Leah opened her mouth to protest, but your mother's hand on her shoulder silenced her. Amanda gave you a sympathetic smile before ushering a defeated Leah towards the car. As they drove away, you retreated back into the house, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily upon you.

You stood there for a long time, the weight of the encounter settling on you. The betrayal still stung, before you could turn to your mam and begin to cry into her shoulder once more you felt another hand on your shoulder turning, you didn't hesitate before throwing yourself into Mary's arms.

The tears came again, a torrent of hurt and confusion released into Mary's embrace. Mary held you tight, whispering soothing words that did little to penetrate the fog of pain.

"It's okay to cry, love," she murmured. "Let it all out."

You clung to her, the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo grounding you amidst the emotional chaos. The image of Leah's tearful face lingered, her declaration of love a discordant note in the symphony of your heartbreak.

Pulling back slightly, you wiped your glistening cheeks. "Do you think she really cares?"

Mary sighed, a deep breath that spoke volumes. "Honey, sometimes people say things in the heat of the moment, especially when they're trying to win someone back. True remorse takes time and action, not just empty words."

Her words were a balm, a dose of reality amidst the swirling emotions. You hadn't expected Leah's sudden appearance, nor the raw vulnerability she displayed. Part of you ached for the connection you thought you shared, the spark you felt whenever you were together. But the other, more sensible part, echoed your mother's sentiment. Actions spoke louder than words, and Leah's actions had spoken volumes.

You don't return to Arsenal, instead, you attend a meeting with your agent, Jonas and the board at Arsenal, you inform them of your wishes to be transferred this summer and when asked why you tell them everything, from the unwelcoming atmosphere your teammates have had from the start to a stupid bet that destroyed two relationships you really thought you had made since joining.

The air in the sterile conference room was thick with tension. Jonas, your agent, sat beside you, his jaw clenched tight. Across the table, the Arsenal board – a group of stern-faced men in expensive suits – listened intently to your story. You spoke with a quiet strength, your voice betraying a tremor of lingering hurt as you recounted the events of the past week.

From the initial awkwardness with your teammates to the cruel betrayal orchestrated by Leah and Katie, you held back nothing. You even explained how the constant feeling of being an outsider, someone tolerated but not truly welcomed, had chipped away at your confidence.

When you finished, a heavy silence descended upon the room. One of the board members, a man with a salt-and-pepper beard, finally broke it. "This is a serious allegation, Ms. L/N. Do you have any proof of this 'bet' you speak of?"

You shook your head. "No, sir. It was a private conversation. But the way Leah and Katie acted, the way they looked at me… it all adds up."

Another board member, a woman with a sharp bob and piercing blue eyes, leaned forward. "And you believe this… bet… is the reason behind the strained relationship with your teammates?"

"It could be a part of it," you admitted. "Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't. But the overall feeling was… unwelcome."

Jonas cleared his throat. "Look, Ms. L/N has a very successful record on the pitch. But a player also needs to feel comfortable off it. This situation clearly isn't working for her."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the board members. The man with the beard steepled his fingers. "We understand your concerns, Ms. L/N and Mr. Hernandez. However, a transfer is a significant decision. We need to explore all options."

The next few minutes were a blur of discussions – potential solutions, alternative clubs, and the financial implications of a transfer. Finally, the woman with the bob spoke up.

"Here's what we can do. We'll launch a discreet investigation into these allegations. If your claims are substantiated, we'll take appropriate disciplinary action against those involved. Additionally, we'll work with the coaching staff to ensure a more inclusive environment for all players."

You exchanged a surprised glance with Jonas. This was more than you expected.

"As for the transfer," she continued, "we understand your desire for a fresh start. We're willing to consider loan offers from reputable clubs, provided they meet our financial requirements."

Relief washed over you. A loan deal wouldn't be ideal, but it would give you a chance to escape the toxic environment at Arsenal and prove yourself elsewhere. You looked at Jonas, silently seeking his advice.

He gave you a quick nod. "That sounds like a fair compromise."

A tense negotiation ensued, with Jonas expertly navigating the complexities of transfer fees and loan agreements. Finally, a deal was struck. You would be loaned to a top-tier Spanish club for the upcoming season, with an option to buy included in the contract.

As you shook hands with the board members, a sense of closure washed over you. This wasn't the fairytale ending you'd envisioned when you signed for Arsenal, but it was a new chapter. A chance to rewrite your story, a chance to rise above the betrayal and prove your worth on the world stage.

You disappear after the meeting, your house is empty you aren't in London or in Dublin, turning down the opportunity to play for Ireland, instead you hide out in Manchester at Mary's, attending solo training as well as Mary's solo training, you don't answer your phone to anyone on the Arsenal squad, Ireland squad, Katie or Leah's no collar id.

When the transfer/loan list is made public your phone blows up once again, you don't answer it until Katie's name flashes up on your screen, you hadn't spoken in weeks but you also knew this was important.

"You're leaving, you're leaving Arsenal, you're leaving." you sigh heading out to sit on the back step "I am." Katie stops for a second before you hear her voice crack "Y/n, I never wanted this, I never wanted you to leave." You shake your head "What did you think was going to happen, that I was going to sit back once again, I've been hurt enough, I have done everything for everyone even if it hurt me and this time I decided not to, I need to stop putting everyone else happiness, their comfortability over my own, I'm done."

There's a small pause before Katie speaks again "Y/n...I never meant for this to happen the way it did, you have to know that." You brush your hands through your hair "I don't, I didn't I'll say the same thing i told you the night of Leah's birthday, you wouldn't do what you did to me to Ella or Lauryn, or any of our other siblings, so I still don't know what I must have done for you to do it to me, what I must have done for you to hate me so much that you thought this would be funny." Katie tried again "Y/n." your bottom lip quivered "I'm tired Katie, so so tired of feeling like this, I don't want to feel like this anymore, I want to be happy, can you just let me go on this loan and let me be happy?" Katie could hear the hurt in your voice and she thought back to every time you finally spoke up and yet still pushed aside for something else, someone else. "Ok." you nod "Where are you going to go." you wiped your tears off your cheek. "I don't know yet, I just need to get out of England." Katie let out a small Oh "You're leaving the league." You smiled softly "If I'm going to give myself the best chance, I need to."

"I'm proud of ya." you laugh slightly "For what." Katie stops "I...I..." You smile softly wiping the stray tear "It's ok, I think I've finally made my peace with that, with this."

Shame burned in Katie's gut. She thought the prank would be harmless, a way to lighten the mood, had backfired spectacularly. You weren't Ella or Lauryn, or any of her other siblings, the ones who could shrug things off. You were Y/n, the quiet observer, the one who carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Seeing your vulnerability, the raw pain in your voice as you spoke of wanting happiness, chipped away at the last vestiges of Katie's justification. The truth, stark and ugly, stared back at her. It hadn't been a prank, it had been a cruel act fueled by a childish need to be funny, a way to lash out at the feeling of you constantly wanting to follow her around, do everything she wanted to do, now she realised you did it for comfort, you idolised her so much you wanted to do everything she did like Lauryn had done, so why had it irked her so much that you did the same.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the ragged sniffles escaping your nose. "I need you to do me a favour, you at least owe me that." Katie nodded franticly before nearly bursting your eardrum accepting "Anything." You wipe your cheeks again cursing internally at how emotional you were.

"When I leave, Leah can't know until I'm gone, she...she can't know until then 'cause I'm not ready to talk to her, please Katie promise me this." Katie agrees, You are right it is the least she can do. "I promise, just go smash it yeah." You let out a small laugh "I'll try."

Arsenal's Y/n McCabe joins FC Bayern Munich.

Blocked left 15 voice messages

Blocked left 25 voice messages

Voice messages full

[gleesonarchive]

An epic elevator selfie featuring some of the cast and crew of 'Star Wars: The Last Jedi' 📸 (02.12.2017)

[karazor--el]

#Repost @BitsieTulloch Officially over halfway through our final season of #SupermanAndLois. Some selfies from this season so far. Trying to enjoy every last moment with our amazing crew and cast. Thank you to our writers for writing such an amazing, heartbreaking, epic final season.

💞

[msfangirlgonewild]

Epic selfie moment at Queen Charlotte premiere in LA!

[borntodeal]

I am really looking forward to seeing this guy in Los Angeles to celebrate the opening of "Malum" in theaters worldwide. Here, Sam Brooks and I grab a selfie while receiving hair and makeup attention. Moments after this image was captured, we were engaged with Anthony DiBlasi, the other cast, and the crew on the set of "Malum." Truly one of the most anticipated horror films of 2023. Sam is an incredibly generous acting partner who warmly shares every scene with his fellow thespians. We have several epic moments in "Malum" together as officers Price and Hudson. This guy is a rising star and soon to be a household name, everywhere. • • • • • #acting #actorslife #casting #actors #actor #actorlife #act #director #setlife #drama #filming #FeedTheDemon #MalumMovie

[cecilbaldwin-fan]

Did I tell you about the time @symphonysanders and I went to the #sandiegozoo? #tourlife

From Cecil’s Instagram.

[remythologise]

I don't have twitter and I'm seeing posts but a lot of them involve knowing what I'm looking at...can you pls explain the latest spn/Jensen news, pretty please?

Sure! Explanation of the events of the past week (some of these dates might be relative to my timezone, apologies for any errors):

JUNE 24: News breaks that Jensen Ackles and Danneel Ackles’ production company has a prequel in the works focusing on John and Mary Winchester; entire fandom displeased

Fandom ire at the prequel focusing on John and Mary momentarily overshadows the fact that it seems like Jensen Ackles has the rights to Supernatural (!!!) and has ‘five shows in the works’ of which this is only the first

Showrunner is Destiel fan-favourite Robbie Thompson, responsible for such Absolute Banger Episodes as ‘Meta Fiction’ (see more here)

A lot of blowback from absolutely all sides of the fandom - BiBros et al mad that it focuses on Not The Brothers, Destiel fans mad it focuses on Not Resolving Destiel, everyone largely mad it focuses on John Winchester (widely regarded as abusive) and the ‘epic love story’ of John/Mary (canonically forced by cupid magic)

Various cast members including Misha Collins, Jim Beaver, Jake Abel, Ruth Connell and Julie McNiven reply to the article with comments indicating they’d like to be involved

Eric Kripke tweets that Jensen and Danneel are ‘the perfect people’ to take control of this story and Jared is ‘too busy Texas Rangering’ to be involved

JUNE 25: Jared Padalecki tweets about being left out of the loop on the prequel; absolute chaos ensues

See this ask reply for a list of tweets, events and reactions

I’ll also add that this gets large enough to get coverage on Vulture, Variety and other news sources

Robbie Thompson retweets his tweet from 2019 saying ‘I ❤️ you #SPNFamily’ in response to… everything

JUNE 26: A scramble for Jensen, Jared and Eric Kripke to do PR damage control on the Jared issue. Meanwhile, Misha Collins does his best impression of this scene from the Lion King to promote GISH

Eric later deletes all tweets about the issue, which is VERY funny. Man can’t handle the heat!

Very funny contrast between Jared’s ‘have a talk, as we often do’ and Jensen’s ‘miss these talks'

Jensen later changes his twitter header and bio from Supernatural/Dean Winchester to The Boys/Soldier Boys which IS somewhat unfortunate and perhaps deliberate break-up related timing

Jared tweets that he ‘doesn’t want anyone to receive hate or threats’ which is like… Jared YOU started this, YOU tweeted this to your millions of followers

JUNE 26: Jensen Ackles does further damage control by tweeting ‘Canon? we got you’ and linking to this article about what the show might hold, which points out the Problems of John Winchester

See article for further details but this implies Jensen actually does care a lot about doing right by the fans and the narrative canon

This, combined with the fact Robbie Thompson is running it, convinces most Destiel-side fans that the show Might Be Better Than Expected and one CW-approved stepping stone to greater things

BiBros are furious because article is written by ‘known Heller’ Natalie Fisher, who is friends with writers such as Meredith Glynn and Robert Berens

Meanwhile, Steve Yockey references the ‘Steve Yockey is dead?!?’ tumblr meme on twitter in a reply to Ruth Connell

JUNE 27: Gen Padalecki posts an instagram story which may or may not be shady commentary on Jensen Ackles

However, yesterday Danneel Ackles also promotes the Padalecki MLM product on HER instagram - can I just say I simply love the use of a) product promotion and b) instagram stories as tools of warfare and diplomacy

JUNE 28: Various scripts drop thanks to the team at tumblr’s spnscripthunt (go support and fund their efforts if you can!)

Notable changed content includes Castiel telling Dean to ‘parent’ Jack in 14.16 and Castiel texting emojis to Claire in 12.16 (possibly an in-script joke about Dean being attracted to a poodle?)

JUNE 29: News breaks that Chaos Machine Productions was started as ‘Free Will Entertainment LLC’

The name was apparently changed in October 2020 - was that as a result of the 15.19-15.20 filming? Or something else?

The idea that Jensen set up a company called ‘Free Will Entertainment’ to continue telling the story of Supernatural is honestly BONKERS. A lot to unpack here to do with the textual and metatextual narrative of Supernatural that I don’t have time to get into, since there’s about twenty wild implications that could be speculated from that name alone

Stock price on ‘Jackles’ Sexy Silence’, conspiracy that Jensen didn’t like the ending of Supernatural and was quietly plotting to take the narrative under his own control, to bring Dean back to life and possibly to canonise Destiel, reaches historic high

The fact does not go unnoticed that, through coincidence or not, Jensen and Danneel registered the company on a Thursday very close to September 18, the Lazarus Rising/Castiel Anniversary Date when Dean was saved from Hell

JUNE 30: Misha Collins makes a social media post with Castiel art for the last day of Pride Month

Twitter post liked by Robbie Thompson

On his instagram, Misha also puts music on the story of ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love With You’ a song made famous by Elvis and then subsequently Destiel AU Fanfic Twist and Shout

“The song was initially written from the perspective of a woman as “Can’t Help Falling in Love with Him”, which explains the first and third line ending on “in” and “sin” rather than words rhyming with “you” - Wikipedia knowledge obtained via @jurisffiction

Falling… sin… But we don’t have time to unpack all of that-

JUNE 30: 8.17 Goodbye Stranger script excerpt surfaces with Dean’s ‘I love you’ to Castiel

Fandom has long known that the ‘I need you’ was formerly an ‘I love you’ because Jensen believed Dean saying it in that moment to Castiel was out of character - but we did not have the script to prove specific changes

Additional ‘I forgive you’ not included in the episode - the original scene reads as very romantic, since this was Dean absolving Castiel for past crimes and telling him he loves him in the moments before death, as well as ‘I love you’ of course being what ‘broke the connection’ of Naomi’s control

Notably this episode written by Robbie Thompson, the very man Jensen and Danneel chose to helm their next project

JUNE 30: Misha Collins misses his blanky text

To cap all this off, Misha Collins texts fans a selfie of himself at ‘the spare room at Jensen’s apt in Vancouver’, saying he ‘misses his blanky’, implying he has spent many nights there

It has been an open secret that Misha basically shared Jensen’s apartment in Vancouver since around 2018 due to [redacted dubiously obtained information] but it’s never been publicly stated (to be clear, this does not imply anything other than friendship, as actors in Vancouver often share accommodation and Misha had previously couch-surfed at Jared and Jensen’s places)

Cockles shippers go wild. Does the ‘blanky’ refer to Jensen? Was there a reason to send this on the last day of pride month? Will this man ever shut up?

Hope that helps! May this wild carousel of News About A Show That Ended Eight Months Ago never end!

[teruthecreator]

berdly’s phone consists of the following:

-shitty, overpriced phone charm he bought at his first convention that always falls off

-redbubble phone case of a poorly-cropped, blurry image of the Super Smashing Fighters cast

-a few of those visual novel app games that have anime men text you in the middle of the night

-clash of clans 

-cookie run kingdom 

-flappy bird (”of course i have flappy bird, kris! you can’t download it from the app store anymore! why would i throw away such a priceless relice!?”) 

-a photo album of fanart he screenshotted from deviantart, with the occasional mirror selfie of him in his “gaming attire” (read: graphic t-shirts, gaming headphones his parents bought him for christmas, a single black fedora he’s yet to retire, etc.) 

-his contacts, which consist of: noelle, his mother, his father, and kris (but their name is MORTAL ENEMY with poop emojis surrounding it) 

-his music (which is all illegally downloaded--his single crime) that is mostly video game osts, the entire legacy of Epic Rap Battles of History, a few ray william johnson songs, lemon demon’s entire discography, and some songs from flight of the conchords

-and, finally, his notes app--filled to the brim with all the fanfiction he can’t post to the internet because his mom blocked the family computer from fanfiction.net wattpad and ao3, and he’s too scared of making the family go over their data plan if he posts it from his phone

[jessamine-rose]

♡ Let’s Make a Mug Together ♡

The wholesome, romantic activity of making a mug together…..but with the whole cast bc what is Obey Me! if not chaos and everyone fighting over Mc?? Fufufu~ I’m not very confident in writing for Obey Me! but I wanted to flesh out this idea I’ve had for our beloved demon brothers and side characters!! I hope I gave them justice  ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Spoiler warnings:: Main Story lore up to Season 3 in Belphegor, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon’s parts

♡ Lucifer’s mug is simple but elegant. He goes for a classic, practical shape painted in shades of black and grey, with either deep blue or brilliant red accents for a pop of color. If you compliment his mug, he will respond with his classic smirk and a hand over his chest. “It’s just a mug. It doesn’t have to be overly complex or garish.” *eyes his brothers*

♡ Unfortunately, the calming nature of the pottery workshop is disrupted by his brothers’ constant arguments. Which results in Lucifer threatening to reshape them like clay before a clay war or a paint fight breaks out. Whenever that happens, Satan and Belphie will sneakily attempt to hex his mug  ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ

♡ Right off the bat, Mammon proclaims that his mug will clearly be the best!! The first time he touches the pottery wheel is…...an epic fail, as quoted by Levi. Once his mug has the right shape, Mammon will go for a striking design in black, yellow, and gold. The entire process would have taken less time if he hadn’t been competing with his brothers -.-

♡ He will insist on sitting beside you at the painting table. Halfway, you will glance at his mug and see…….isn’t that detail similar to your own design?? “Oi, what are ya lookin’ at?? Huh?? I-It’s not like the Great Mammon wants our mugs to match or anythin’!! And don’t you dare let my brothers try to match with you, got it??” (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

♡ Even in a pottery workshop, Leviathan’s otaku speech is activated. “Waaaaaa this reminds me of that anime Let’s Make a Cauldron Too about pottery from the human world!! The protagonists were a mix of professionals and novices but they were all able to make such great designs!! Aaahh and one of them was good at making fun, moe sculptures--I wonder if I can copy her technique?? The--” “We get it, Levi!!”

♡ Don’t underestimate Levi’s art skills!! He makes good work of the assorted paints and brushes to illustrate a flattering likeness of Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan!! Later on, he shyly offers you a drink from his mug…….and would you look at that?? He sculpted some mini goldfish inside so it looks like an army of Henry’s is swimming in your tea!!  (╯✧▽✧)╯彡✿

♡ Satan chooses cat designs!! His mug very much resembles a cat, with two sculpted cat-ear triangles on the rim and a tail for the handle. Or even better, what about a bunch of mini cats climbing the rim, handle, and surface of his mug??!! Satan will paint them with a variety of patterns and faces. It is a catty design which he adores and which won’t be compared to any of Lucifer’s ideas--

♡ He may offer to paint a small addition to your mug. Just a minor detail which no one will notice…...after your mug is glazed and washed, he insists on making dark coffee to maintain the surprise. When you finish your drink, you will find a secret message cleverly painted on the bottom interior of your mug. "I hope your day is full of joy. ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ"

♡ Asmodeus’s mug needs to be gorgeous and creative to complement his beauty!! He incorporates some of his nail art techniques to paint a glamorous, one-of-a-kind mug worthy of his lips. As a finishing touch, he presses his lips against the glazed mug to leave behind a pink kiss mark. Would you like one, too~ “We don’t want any of your gross kisses, Asmo!!” “Aww, are you sure?? <3”

♡ He uses his mug for Devilgram selfies!! Soon enough, his account will be filled with pictures of aesthetic drinks within the fabulous mug…...but the focus will always be on Asmodeus as he holds the mug with a bright smile, of course!! Doesn’t he make the prettiest beverage model?? („─‿─„) ♡

♡ Beelzebub’s mug is amazingly oversized. It might as well be mistaken for a bowl or a pitcher, considering how gigantic it is. “Beel, how many drinks are you trying to fit in there??!!” “It’s big enough so I can fit all of the vegetables and rice when we have curry.” “Are you saying that curry is a drink??!!”

♡ On top of that, Beel’s art skills are simply horrific. After much thinking with Belphie, he paints on his mug a simple sunrise gradient of solid warm colors.....Then he decides to draw a wholesome picture of his family (Mc included) holding hands around the bottom of the mug. The final product ends up insulting his brothers and giving them nightmares for days  _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

♡ Fully aware of his terrible (but better than Beel’s) drawing skills, Belphegor comes up with the idea for him and Beelzebub to use solid colors. He paints his mug a muted dark blue to resemble the night sky, with white dots for his favorite stars and constellations from the human world!! Their mugs match, too  =w=

♡ After chatting with you and Beel, he decides to make a simple addition to his mug!! A green mountain with a little pink puffball on top. The cloud-like shape has a yellow circle for a face and little horns--is that sheep Mc?? Looking up at Beel and Belphie’s twin stars?? How adorable!! “It’s you, me, and Beel. Let’s look at the stars again later.”

♡ Diavolo is like a child exploring the limitless world of creativity. He molds a mug which is decidedly…….unique. Asymmetrical. More fit to be a museum art piece than a piece of everyday drinkware. He also has fun during the painting process--his design could either be a colorful abstract work or a collage of his favorite Devildom landscapes and places!!  o(^▽^)o

♡ For the latter design, he will happily recount his memories from those special places as he paints. “Lucifer, here is the private beach we rented out 6000 years ago!! Barbatos, do you remember the Snapdragon Skull meadow where we hosted my childhood tea parties?? Mc, if you don’t mind, I would like to revisit these places with you next time.”

♡ Barbatos decides to mold a cup meant for tea. His set of teacups--plus an expertly molded teapot--are painted with sophisticated designs impressive enough to star in Diavolo’s next royal tea party!! From Japanese cups to European china with matching saucers, he is very interested in the different types of teaware!!

♡ He watches Diavolo’s mug creation and protects their cups from the demon brothers’ shenanigans. If you need help with your mug, he will politely smile and guide you through the process. Barbatos will stand over you, his hands lightly holding your wrists as you shape clay and paint designs. “Diavolo-bocchama, such childlike creativity ( ◠‿◠ ) Moving on, Mc, this is how you paint a traditional teacup.”

♡ Simeon’s mug gives off a homey, sophisticated vibe. He helps Luke during the clay-shaping process and comes up with a mug which feels comforting to hold. He paints a dazzling image of the Celestial Realm on the surface along with some original quotes in pretty, cursive lettering. At one point, Mammon almost tries to sell it on Akuzon as a personal item created by Christopher Peugeot.....

♡ His mug is always filled with coffee for recipe experiments or writer’s fuel. Oftentimes, you will visit Purgatory Hall to find Simeon expertly pouring steamed milk into his mug to finish off the newest menu item on The Angel’s Halo. “Mc, you came just in time. Would you like to try our Special Blend Coffee with Cloudy Sheep Latte Art?? Ꮚ • ⌄ •Ꮚ ”

♡ Luke is intent on making a perfect mug to pair with his sweets!! With Simeon’s encouragement, he happily sculpts a classic mug with everyone. Originally, he thought of painting assorted desserts on his mug…….then he considered the consequences of Beel’s reaction. To which he switched to a design of Celestial Realm imagery and the human world constellations he had learned from Michael!!

♡ At one point, someone *cough* Mammon *cough*  points out how cute and little Luke’s mug looks in comparison to everyone else’s creations. “Aww, isn’t this mug just like the Chihuahua??” “Ehh?? That wasn’t my intention!! It’s just that all of you consume bigger portions than me!! ໒  •̀ ﻌ •́ ७ ”

♡ Solomon’s mug looks exactly like what you’d expect from a sorcerer. Being familiar with various historical models of pottery and symbolic magical tools, it isn’t a surprise for him to come up with a special mug which may have mystical properties and functions. (It reheats his drinks.) Combining his skills in art and sorcery, Solomon effortlessly creates a vintage mug decorated with magical runes and embellishments  (∩^o^)⊃━☆゜.*  

♡ The finished mug is a gorgeous piece of pottery…...until Solomon uses it for his beverage concoctions. Suddenly, in everyone’s eyes, the work of art has become a sinisterly deceptive vessel for logic-defying poison. “Do you want a sip, Mc?? You won’t believe how good black coffee tastes with bloodberry sauce and devil’s chili peppers.”

♡

To my darling Belphewhore friend who proofread and contributed to this work:: No, you did not see me simping for S*lomon. Thank you very much for your assistance <3

Tagging:: @sunny-xty @panicattheattic @luminari-mc @kitsune-oji​ @souielle​ @moemoemammon​​ @dorkus-mcdingus​

[karihighman]

The way I desperately need their characters to be besties because they’re already supportive cast mates IRL 😊🫶 ps: a Lisseth & Melissa selfie would be epic just saying! So excited for what’s in store for Celina & crossing my fingers for a Lucy interaction or even a Chenford scene

[tophthedaydreamer]

the future! part 3

after being formally adopted by gyro (he still visits the drakes), boyd studies to become a scientist. he establishes a tech company that gets super successful! he becomes a billionaire genius a la tony stark, but remains his kind, down-to-earth self. still epic friends with huey and often provides him with tech that helps him gather artifacts and treasure.

violet becomes a scholar of all things magical and paranormal. a master at casting spells and solving magical puzzles, as well as identifying mystical beasts. has met mothman (they took a selfie together). i imagine she gets married to huey, and the two become a cool nerdy couple. 

gosalyn becomes the next guardian of st. canard, taking on the name quiverwing quack! super punk n cool, she’s got a sick hockey team on the side. she has uncle jesse vibes. 

[itsclydebitches]

That post on the cast's lack of curiosity and imagination hit the nail on so many issues I've had with this show lately. If I had to guess why this is the case, it's either because so much stuff has been crammed into the show that they decided thinking things over can be cut or they learned the wrong lesson from V5 and think that they shouldn't have the cast slow down and discuss what they've learned or are unsure about.

Personally, I think it's both those things with a third issue of the show not knowing where it's going. Hence, why we get so many ideas that are shoddily executed, dropped completely, randomly return, seem to go in circles before disappearing, etc. There are a hundred ideas piled on top of one another, with no real focus on any of them, so yeah, no wonder we haven't seen space made for those questions. I know the more optimistic side of the fandom pushes this idea of the mater plan. Most of the writers worked with Monty, they have his notes, just look at all the comments about how they're writing two volumes at once. Personally, I'm of the opinion that if this story was truly well-plotted, we would be seeing more of that creative work in regards to the group's thinking. If the writer knows basic facts like how Salem will be defeated, how the heroes hit on that solution, and the like, then you're able to incorporate not only their journey towards that ending, but all the pitfalls that come along with it. Questions like whether Ironwood's downfall was truly planned from the beginning is a more subjective (a fairly emotionally driven) conversation, but scenes like Nora's comment on the way to the party, introducing the Staff's abilities a few minutes before they're used, accomplishing nothing with Penny before killing her off, diving into a random void that was never a part of the story's expected structure... none of this feels like the writers have a good handle on where they're doing. And if you don't know where you're going — at least a basic idea — it's a lot harder to let your characters discover how to solve their problems. The authors may not know how to solve those problems yet. RWBY's magic system has always had wishy-washy rules and Salem's own motivations were only announced this volume, eight years in. That's not good groundwork for creative thinking on the part of the characters.

Then yeah, we've got the added issue of how much thinking the cast can engage in. I absolutely understand the criticism leveled at Volume 5, especially given how lack-luster the action was once we got it. However, I don't think we can ignore the show RWBY has become. By introducing more cerebral themes — who's keeping what secrets? How much of this war is fought with information? How do we judge our enemies in this supposedly gray world? — RWBY has axed the simplistic, "Hehe bad guys get punched in the face!" focus we had at the start. It's no longer nameless White Fang goons who get blown up in an epic train tunnel battle, it's drawn out conversations over torture wherein a kid tries to turn one of the bad guys by... appealing to basic, "You don't want to die too" logic, I guess. The point is, when you change the show in that manner you also necessitate that the characters talk about things. Work through them. Tease out lies from the truth, allies from foes, the strategy that will ensure victory when epic punches are no longer enough. Fans aren't wrong to be frustrated at their action characters just sitting around, but there's also a reason why many of us are simultaneously frustrated by things like Emerald's forgiveness, Ozpin's apology, or Weiss' interactions with her family: all of them lack important conversations to prove that growth, resolution, or characterization to the audience. Frankly, as much as I do understand that, "I want to see them fighting, not talking all the time!" perspective, I think it's the least of RWBY's problems post-Volume 8. Simply because so many of our characters didn't fight and didn't talk about anything important. Fans bring up drinking tea in the mansion again and again because it is, thus far, the most extreme example of RWBY failing to have their characters forward the story. Fans are frustrated because half of our main team didn't do anything, and that includes undergoing no real emotional growth, discussing no strategies, coming to no decisions — anything that might come of a well-written conversation. Personally, I don't actually think most fans dislike conversation in the show as much as they might think. It's just that RWBY (as is so often the case) hasn't executed it well. But not only do these talks usually provide fan-favorite moments (how many Blake/Yang shippers focus on their selfies, or Yang's dance moves, the stuff that happens in their downtime?), but it can be downright exciting to see these characters hit on solutions that will then impact later fights. We want to see them succeed, both on and off the battlefield. Yet Volume 8 failed spectacularly in that regard, giving us a Ruby who did nothing, randomly realized she could use the Staff (no real catalyst there), and then basically implemented Ironwood's plan only worse. If RWBY can't even manage to keep its title character significant, I'm not at all surprised we don't have more nuance like, say, creatively testing Salem's immortality, or questioning the information they've been told, or even just having conversations during the midst of battle so you can take out two story birds with one stone. RWBY has too much going on, making it near impossible to discuss what's important, and even if we knew, yeah, there's this fear that it will be too boring... despite us getting stuff like the mansion scenes anyway.

[ellelans]

You made a tag comment about how Buddie wasn't planned from the beginning. And therefore what we got in Season 2 wasn't (at the time) the groundwork for a love story. I agree completely! Much of it I can see as either a bit of fun (the Christmas elf, the instagram girl) or that kind of hyper-masc heterosexuality that loops around itself and becomes gay (Buck's whole...thing with Eddie in the beginning, the focus on Eddie's body/hotness/physical appearance). But sometimes I step back and look at the whole and I'm all 🧐 🤔.

I don't even know what I'm asking lol. Would just love your thoughts/feelings on the confusing spectacle that are Buck and Eddie in season 2. And when/how/why did the show change their mind?

Thank you so much for the ask and you know what? Let’s talk about it.I recently had an in depth chat about this pretty unpopular opinion with a friend and I tried to explain to her why I don't see buddie as an actual pairing or having any canon potential until early s3 and why I don't believe they were planned from the beginning.This will be long and all over the place of course lol

The first and the most obvious reason is the way 911 deals with main characters and their romantic arcs.They don't actually drag it on for long because there is no need or time for that since every single main character has a strong storyline of their own and any romantic development between any pair as an additional combined storyline. Relationships happen fast on 911 because they are planned ahead and the only relationship that took longer than usual few episodes was Chim and Maddie and they were already kissing and planning a date in 2x11.

Also when shows enter their second season there is never a way to predict how long it will stay on the air and because of that it is impossible for me to believe that buddie was planned as some epic old school slowburn that is nowhere as close to be resolved after 3 seasons.When I say old school slowburn I mean shows that have this one heterosexual romance at the center of the universe that is usually stretched across seasons and builds up sexual tension between characters and it takes literally years for them to finally get together.We have these two characters that where made for each other and you KNOW that they will eventually get together because of some ridiculous pining that will eventually end in a kiss and everyone will scream and cry.And maybe that’s how buddie feels to me now after years of careful build up-but the way I see it they as a potential something didn't happen in s2.

We all joke about how character introduction of Eddie is the gayest we have ever seen and Buck's reaction to him as true bisexual and I do that myself too because I am a bisexual too and tbh its hard to unsee (also I don't want to) but lets remove our rainbow glasses for a second. What really did happened in that scene? Eddie's perfect abs on display,Chim and Hen fun comments on how beautiful he is,Bobby's praise and bragging about getting Eddie and his Silver Star on the team and Buck's insecurities flaring up as a reaction to all of this.Buck immediately feels threatened.At this point we of course have no idea how deeply his insecurities run or why,but as episode progresses we witness Eddie on his first call making a better decision to how to handle a medical situation and backed up by Bobby.It has sort of a devastating effect on Buck,who suddenly starts acting like we have never seen him before.Then there is a that scene at the gym where Buck tells Eddie how he is his problem. And later we of course have the scene in ambulance when Eddie asked what exactly they are measuring. Because that's what it looked like - a usual macho men measuring context. But the thing is 911 doesn’t toxic masculinity when it comes to main male characters and we saw many examples of that already by then,but the biggest one was supposed to be BuckandEddie. Equals,partners and best friends.

911 was already pushing boundaries with cast,characters and relationships diversity and I strongly believe that what they wanted to show us was a male equivalent of what we are used to see in female bffs -a different kind of a friendship between men. Men who care about each other,who talk about feelings,discuss sex,dating or why they don’t,who again openly acknowledge that they find each other attractive and giving advices on how to take a more flattering selfie,who are not afraid of crying, admit they are struggling or heartbroken or loving their kid.Honestly when was the last time any of us saw a male friendship like theirs?Men are not allowed to be like that on TV (I am still shocked that its a Fox show tbh) and especially with each other.We are not used to see such a development so no wonder people started paying attention-which was what writers wanted,of course.

But that also brings us to that important question about queer undertones,subtext and do what we actually see in s2. Are there queer undertones?Absolutely. Subtext?It’s right there but you will probably not get it unless you’re reading between the lines.Before we get to Christmas Elf,there was ‘’He is cute!/He gets that a lot,you should’ve seen his kid...’’ Maddie and Buck scene that is once again reinforces that Buck finds Eddie attractive and it shouldn’t be a surprise because we already know from 2x01 he has eyes - but they mention it AGAIN and that personally made me raise a brow or two.By the time we get to that Christmas episode,we already have Shannon back and Buck finally moved on from Abby with Taylor and then Ali and then we are given another queer coded scene-with Christmas elf.And its very cute and to an average heterosexual viewer its a nice little joke,but any queer watching that scene was probably taken aback a little.

So why imo did Tim&Co do it and when they realized they can actually see where they can take BuckandEddie and when they started becoming buddie?My answer is ship teasing.It’s what a lot of people actually mistake for queer baiting,but we are not talking about that rn.Ship teasing works like charm and if shows can get away with that-they will totally use it to their advantage.It’s usually not always malicious,but it IS always intentional because that brings in a category of people that were overlooked for a long time-online fandom.Now I have seen some opinions that fandom doesn’t really matter,it’s the ratings that count and that is NOT TRUE.You can have your ratings,but if there is no buzz online?Your show is going nowhere.For at least a decade now every self-respecting production has teams to monitor fandom activities because it gives them better ideas about how consumers(fans) are interacting with their product (show).Fandom is important because we generate the buzz.So I do believe that BuckandEddie and that sweet ship teasing were to get a certain part of the fandom pay attention.

I wasn’t here when S2 aired so I don’t know if that was the case,but it is obvious that these scenes I talked about above made fans pay a LOT of attention. And maybe that was the reaction writers needed to start changing course from ship teasing to start building up to something else.They maybe didn’t plan it at the very beginning and on paper,but lets also not forget the insane chemistry between Oilver and Ryan,which imo is another big reason-it's impossible to ignore.

Because S3?Is light years away from S2 in terms of BuckandEddie-they became buddie.In s3 Buck and Eddie become each other’s significant other,they are in a primary relationship. ’’Buck invites Eddie...’’?!!!!! It is not yet romantic and probably won’t be until ending of s5 if we are lucky-but it is in your face,they are not subtle anymore.I personally saw buddie only at the end of 3x03 when Eddie came over and said that there is noone in the world he trusts with his son more than Buck, looking like he did into Buck’s eyes,while ‘Photograph’ played in the background right before Buck’s overvoice about being seen and found and a raft to bring one home. After S4 ending tho...we all know that something is about to happen and its like there is electricity in the air as we are waiting for s5!

Probably a lot more thoughts than you expected,but I have many feelings about these two and when buddie goes canon this post will become completely irrelevant lol 💖 

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (extra) || atz

A hand reaches into the frame to press the recording button.

The camera shifts around as the hand moves to adjust it on its tripod, fixing the device in place. When the image finally clears, stills and focuses, the hand moves back to reveal a man with blonde hair done in a mullet.

“Is it done yet?” A voice pipes up in the background.

The man adjusting the camera steps back to reveal a well lit room with wooden floorboards, the words KQ Entertainment behind him in big, white letters. Seven men hover at the back, all trying to push their way into the centre to see the camera.

“It’s on!” The man with the mullet cheers a little at his success. All eight of them rush to form a line, before he announces the beginning of the VLIVE. “하나, 둘, 셋 (hana, dool, seht)!”

“Eight Makes One Team!” They chorus together and bow, wide grins on their faces. “안녕하세요 (annyeonghaseyo)! It’s ATEEZ!”

They burst into a round of scattered applause.

“Hello everyone! It’s Hongjoong here!” The man with the mullet waves at the camera, smiling broadly. “So, due to popular opinion on Tumblr-”

“We’ve decided to check out @chasingatinydream’s fanfiction of us, Pirate King!” The young man with purple hair bursts into the frame, grinning wildly. “We’ve made a reaction video to some of the earlier chapters, which will be uploaded soon! We hope you watch it!”

[atinypiratequeen commented: There is nothing I want more in this life]

“But this video will be about us recreating the legendary post, which made more than half of the readers following Pirate King to curse the author online, Chapter 22, Gunshot! We haven’t read it yet, but we’ll be having one of us narrate as the story goes through!” Hongjoong continues, and everyone cheers, clapping again. “So now, we’ll be introducing the cast!”

“Hi! It’s Mingi here, main rapper and lead dancer of ATEEZ! I’m going to be the narrator for today!” The tall man waves, holding a script book in hand. His hair is wet, as if he’s just come out of the shower.

[imasexybuffalo commented: omg mingi looks so good]

“Hi, I’m Yeosang, playing myself.” The visual king himself waves, gracing all those who watching with with his presence.

[VLIVE Heart Count has increased by 2k]

[gothyeosanggf commented: im ded some1 save me]

[sassy-kpop-glitter commented: His birthmark is so pretty I wish they wouldn’t cover it! Also this chapter was so sad, this video is probably going to make me cry all over again.]

“Wooyoung here! I’m in charge of the sexy performance of this group and I’m playing Chin Hae, the main character!” Wooyoung waves with a big smile, other hand running through his hair. Hundreds of fangirls’ hearts swell all over the globe at the group’s most epic bias wrecker. “Also the one no one knows shit about!”

[@chasingatinydream commented: I was not expecting this portrayal of my MC but sure go for it Wooyoung]

“I’m Hongjoong, acting as Captain of the Treasure!” Mullet man beams at the camera, inclining his head a little in greeting. Then he glances back at the group. “Wasn’t I supposed to be blind in one eye? Where’s my eyepatch? And my red jacket?”

[@princejoongie1997 commented: I love you Hongjoongie <3]

“Here! Your jacket’s still in the wash because you performed with it yesterday, so the staff said to use this instead.” The man with green hair tosses a small black shape and a red blanket to his leader, before stepping into the camera with a cute smile. “Hello everyone, I missed you all! I’m ATEEZ’s San, director and also in charge of special effects and props!”

[@baeksofty commented: someone save me help help helpppp]

[@chasingatinydream commented: San is directing this wth is going to happen to my story]

“Hi.” Seonghwa smiles sweetly from a chair at the side. He raises the selfie stick he’s holding, waving it a little so everyone can see. “I’m Seonghwa, the oldest, and I’ll be the cameraman for this video!”

[@catmosphericlight commented: is it possible to love one man so much? I feel like its impossible]

[@berrylip commented: my finger hurts from smashing that heart button but i’ll do it for you seonghwa]

“Hi, everyone. It’s ATEEZ’s maknae, Jongho.” The youngest member waves his hand, smiling a little as he watches what’s happening right next to Seonghwa. “I’m going to be the extra who fills in any role needed.”

Hongjoong claps his hands once and everyone falls silent for dramatic effect. Jongho reaches behind the couch to pull someone out from hiding, pushing him right in front of the camera. The tall, lanky man shows itself to be Yunho, trying to crawl back behind the couch.

“And finally, our villain! We present to you, Yunho, AKA Leon Bastiville!”

[@someonerandom commented: LEON BASTARDVILLE!!!]

“You’re already getting hate, Yunho.” San comments as he peers at the comments flooding in from the readers. “Who is this Leon guy anyway?”

“I didn’t want to be a villain! Why did my luck run out on me when I needed it the most?” Yunho wails, attempting to hide from sight. Jongho simply grabs him by the ankle and hauls him back to the front, Yunho’s fingers scrabbling along the floor, before he finally locks his arms around Wooyoung’s leg.

[@mireu01 commented: Yunho as a villain i can’t im wheezing-]

“Sorry, we drew lots for this role.” Seonghwa explains over the noise of Yunho trying to escape from Jongho’s iron grip and Wooyoung attempting to pry Yunho’s hands from his calf as he takes the camera from the tripod, attaching it to the stick. It isn’t working. “Yunho picked the lot for the villain.”

“Alright, I’ll begin reading!” Mingi announces, lifting the script to his face. He starts to read, in the most dramatic tone he can. “Chapter Twenty Two, Gunshot, Original Version. Warnings, whipping, some gore- What? I feel like I shouldn’t be reading this on a VLIVE-”

“It’s a zero budget production, we’ll be fine!” San shouts as he gestures from the sidelines for Mingi to continue. The rapper pauses a little hesitantly, before starting to read once more.

“You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes taut, a cold shiver runs down your spine. The arm around your waist is firm, strong and from the almost unbreakable grip he has on you, he doesn’t intend on letting you go any soon.”

“Wooyoung-ah, Yunho-ah.” San studies the script in his hand intently, before pointing at the taller man, who is still prone on the ground with an arm wrapped around Wooyoung’s leg. “You need to get into position, you know.”

There’s a pause, and the two turn to stare at each other in horror. “What?”

“You heard me.” San waves the script impatiently, pulling a Nerf gun from a small box of props the staff must have given him for this video and tossing it at Yunho, who barely manages to catch the bright yellow toy. “Yunho, stand behind Wooyoung and pretend to choke him.”

Neither of them move, still staring at each other.

[@alyj12 commented: Oh my god just do it please!!!]

“The fans demand it.” Seonghwa’s amused voice can be heard as the camera pans in on Hongjoong’s grin at the sidelines, next to San and Jongho. The maknae is snickering uncontrollably, hand over his mouth.

“You need to do it!” Hongjoong calls. He’s donned the black eye patch already and has the red blanket pulled around his shoulders, the thick fabric so long that it almost completely engulfs him with his head popping out of the very top.

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 10k]

[@itslizzeh commented: hongjoons such a cute smol bean save me]

[@chasingatinydream commented: why does hongjoong in that blanket remind me of a pimple]

Grudgingly and with no grace at all, Yunho moves behind Wooyoung, grabbing him by the neck and holding the toy gun to his head. The purple haired man makes several gagging sounds and Yunho’s face is one of utter disgust.

“Very good!” San praises as he glances down at the script again. “Now, Yunho, put your mouth at Wooyoungie’s ear.”

“What?” The two of them shout again, Wooyoung struggling to get out of Yunho’s arms while he still can. Yunho’s face is one of nausea as he scrunches up his nose.

“That’s gross, Wooyoung hasn’t showered since dance practice half an hour ago!”

[@atinypiratequeen commented: the two of them literally got the worst roles lmao]

“Do it, do it, do it!” Jongho and Yeosang are chanting in the corner, the maknae not even bothering to hide his laughter now. Yunho slowly puts his face near Wooyoung’s ear and Wooyoung gags.

“I can feel your breath at my ear! It’s weird!”

“It’s weird for me too, damnit!”

“Stop cursing! Now, Yunho, whisper in Wooyoung’s ear ‘I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.’ ”

“I hate this Leon guy, whoever he is!” Yunho yelps as the camera shakes from Seonghwa’s laughter. “Why is he so weird, going around whispering in people’s ears?”

“I don’t know! Someone save me! This main character’s life sucks!” Wooyoung flails around in Yunho’s grip. The tall dancer makes several loud retching noises, but has probably guessed that he won’t be getting out of this anytime soon. He simply closes his eyes for a moment, channeling his inner actor from that video shoot with Dingo, and leans next to Wooyoung’s ear, whispering softly.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

Wooyoung screeches like a dying cat. “No!”

[@mireu01 commented: someone get this boy an acting role]

“Very good!” San praises, clapping as he turns to Mingi. The rapper continues reading.

“Your heart sinks in your chest as the rest of your crew come into sight. Most of them are tied up in groups with rope, their heads hanging low as Navy soldiers kick and push them out of the cargo hold, where they had been hidden from sight. So that was why the ship had been so strangely silent when you and Wooyoung had returned to the Treasure. They had been captured- Holy shit, that was what happened to us in chapter twenty one?”

“I don’t know, I was saving myself, I mean the main character, from getting shot from a musket bullet!” Wooyoung wails, thrashing around. “Get me out of here! I regret ever drawing this lot! Who wants to be the main character when she has such a terrible life?”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 17k]

“The fans love it!” Seonghwa remarks excitedly, the recording steadying for a moment as he shifts the camera to San, who bows dramatically. Wooyoung shrieks at everyone watching his torment live.

“Yunho, tell Wooyoung ‘Hello, hello, hello, my two dear pirates. Now, we’re finally all here together. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night.’ ”

“That stalker was waiting in wait for us? That’s so creepy.” Jongho comments with a shudder. Yeosang shrugs. He can’t fathom the mind of a lunatic either.

“There’s poison in his voice, sweet as honey and as dangerous as snake venom. You don’t dare to struggle against him for fear of being shot point blank in the head, but his hold on you is making you panic and he’s crushing your windpipe, making every breath an arduous effort.” Mingi reads aloud, and Yunho, getting a little too into character, squeezes Wooyoung’s neck tighter. The shorter dancer yelps, flailing around.

“You’re choking me!”

“Very good, Yunho!” San applauds, completely ignoring Wooyoung’s plight. Yunho grins, nodding at the camera.

“Hey, I’m pretty good at acting!”

[@alyj12 commented: someone save wooyoung he looks like he’s going to die]

“Wooyoung’s fine!” Seonghwa beams, zooming in on Wooyoung’s struggling to free himself.

“You’re killing me!”

“Wow, Wooyoung’s really getting into character. Good job, Wooyoung!” Hongjoong raises a thumbs up with a proud smile on his face.

“I’m not in character-”

“ ‘While the two of you were off causing your little commotion back there at the official’s building,’ the officer drawls, playfully resting his chin on your shoulder as he addresses the crew, ‘one of my men ran back to the harbor to report it to me. My colleague that saw to you yesterday, Yoongi, was already suspicious of you. He smelled gunpowder on your ship, but your little de facto captain told us that you hadn’t been fired on.’ ”

“Are you serious? He smelled us out?” Jongho looks unimpressed by this, scowling. “Who the heck goes around just smelling ships?”

“Bring him out.” Yunho snarls, pressing the toy gun tighter against Wooyoung’s head. His finger must have slipped on the trigger, because there’s a pop sound and Wooyoung yelps, a foam dart falling to the ground.

“That hurt!”

“No, Yunho, he’s not supposed to die yet.” San corrects, shaking his head and completely ignoring Wooyoung. Yunho pouts, breaking character for a moment.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, Hongjoongie-hyung, it’s your moment to shine!” San announces, turning to his leader. Hongjoong tries to make his way over, but then he steps on the hem of his red blanket and trips, sprawling on the ground in front of the camera. “Oh, that was very good acting, hyung!”

“That wasn’t acting-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 49k]

Mingi glances across the script. “Leon clicks his tongue and you see your captain shoved forward, head bowed and hands bound in front of him. Part of you desperately wants to run to the man who named you, to insist he never incline his head to someone he doesn’t respect, but you are completely powerless now. He looks so small- Doesn’t hyung always look small? What’s the difference?”

“Yah, Mingi!” Hongjoong shouts as he attempts to get up, but trips and falls again. Jongho is snorting uncontrollably, hand reaching for a cup of popcorn that definitely wasn’t there earlier and Yeosang’s face is buried in a pillow as his body shakes with laughter.

“Bring me the cat.” Yunho snaps, getting into the mood once more, and San glances around for his extra.

[@teajuns commenting: yunho really getting into it kshdksj]

“Jongho, you’re going to be the guy that whips Hongjoong-hyung.”

Jongho couldn’t look happier, jumping to his feet at the words, his eyes shining.

“Really?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen almost comically in horror and he desperately scrambles back. “He’s going to break my back!”

“We don’t have a whip, but we do have a squeaky hammer!” San grins, pulling out the plastic mallet from the box. He tosses it to Jongho, who catches it and eyes it with a vindictive smile Hongjoong’s honestly quite terrified of.

“Don’t worry, hyung. I promise I’ll be gentle.” Jongho looks more terrifying than that Leon guy could ever be. Striding over, he rips the red blanket from Hongjoong, leaving the poor leader on the ground. He raises the squeaky mallet.

The sight is menacing.

“I’m not doing this!” Hongjoong shrieks, running for his life around the dance studio, Jongho chasing after him. Seonghwa documents the whole thing, spinning round and round in circles before he finally retreats the the floor.

“Sorry everyone, I got too dizzy.” He apologises with a laugh.

“Let me go!” The leader screams as Jongho catches him by the legs, sending both of them sprawling to the ground.

“Tell me who broke my guitar string!”

“Never!”

The maknae raises the hammer and mercilessly thwacks his hyung with it, the rubber hammer going squeak squeak squeak.

“Fine, fine, fine! I broke it while trying to play Havana, okay? God, please just stop hitting me! I surrender!”

There’s a final, hard smack and the hammer goes flying out of Jongho’s hands, hitting Wooyoung straight in the face.

[@roamingthesails commented: i can’t stop laughing this is so stupid]

Squeak!

“Ow! I’m not even a part of your scene, Jongho!”

“Hongjoong’s back is a mutilated, bloody mess of raw flesh and shredded skin, crimson streaming from several open wounds. Your captain is on his knees, face pressed against the floor, body trembling.” Mingi baulks a little at the intense description. “You can’t even begin to imagine what absolute agony he must be in, your musket wound was nothing compared to this. But your captain remains silent, teeth gritted against the torment brought on with each swing of the whip. Honestly, you’re so cool in this story, hyung. The last time you got a paper cut you nearly cried and went to Seonghwa-hyung to get a plaster-”

“I didn’t!” Hongjoong groans from the floor, attempting to massage his back. Jongho climbs off him with a triumph grin, settling next to Yeosang.

“Now act like you’re strong and laugh at Yunho, Hongjoong-hyung.” San directs his leader, but the lead rapper simply remains prone on the ground.

“I’m dead, I’m dead…” He moans, lying on the floor like a dead fish. “Just let me die…”

San squirts a bottle of red liquid on his back and Hongjoong screams, leaping off the floor in fright. The back of his shirt looks like a bloody mess. “San, what was that?”

“Ketchup.” The brand is blurred out, but it’s ketchup, alright. “It’s supposed to be your blood.”

“I showered before this…” Hongjoong whines, staring mournfully at his shirt. San ignores him and moves to check his script once more.

[@faith032101 commented: Does this make Hongjoong a snack?]

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 105k]

“Act evil and tell Hongjoong you’re going to whip Wooyoung too.” He instructs, and Yunho turns to Hongjoong with an evil grin that looks way too into character.

“Let me go!” Wooyoung tries to slip out of Yunho’s arms, but fails spectacularly once again. “I don’t want to get beaten up by Jongho! How is this kind of thing even allowed to be aired-”

“I wonder if your tongue will loosen if I do it to one of your crew, then?”

“I don’t want to die!”

“Now rip Wooyoung’s shirt, Yunho.” San instructs, studying the script. Wooyoung shrieks, doubling his efforts to become Houdini.

“This shirt cost me eighty two thousand won! Don’t do this to meeeee-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 579k]

[@addictmaniac commented: TAKE ONE FOR THE ATINY TEAM AND DO IT YUNHO]

Mingi adds on grimly. “Uncaring of the gun at your head, you flail and thrash against him, to no avail.”

“This shirt was expensive-”

With that, Wooyoung finally breaks free of Yunho’s grip, but the momentum brought on by his little escape sends him stumbling and he trips over Hongjoong’s blanket, before sprawling on top of his leader.

“Ow!”

“Wooyoung, you little-”

“Oh my god Hongjoong’s finally found out Chin Hae is a woman!” Mingi gasps in shock, a hand coming over his mouth. Yeosang gapes in shock.

“Oh no! What’s going to happen? Wooyoung’s going to hate her and they’re never going to be together-”

“Eh, I more of shipped her with captain anyway.” Jongho drawls.

“And he looks so betrayed! Hongjoong, don’t be sad! I promise Chin Hae didn’t want to lie to you-”

“I knew it from the beginning…” Hongjoong groans from under Wooyoung. Mingi ignores him.

“Not you, the cooler Hongjoong in the book.”

“She’s coming back with us. I hope you’re pure for sale, my sweet, but I suppose that may be difficult when you’re on the same ship as so many men- I sound like a pervert, I’m not saying this.” Yunho shakes his head, tossing the script away. It smacks into the camera.

“Ah!” Seonghwa rushes to save it. “Yunho!”

“Hongjoong-hyung, you’re supposed to shout Wooyoung’s name and we get a smoke bomb-”

“But I’m the main character!” Wooyoung protests as he heaves himself off his leader. The front of his shirt is sticky with ketchup, as if he’s the victim of a homicide case.

San pauses to think for a moment. “That’s true. We’ll just move on then. Jongho, smoke bomb please!”

Jongho picks up the cup of popcorn and throws it into the air. It goes absolutely everywhere.

“Great work, Jongho!”

“He flies out of nowhere, lunging for your captor. Leon snarls and tries to kick him away, but then he raises a short knife and buries it in Leon’s arm. The man holding you stumbles back onto the gangplank, falling onto the ground and your saviour takes your hand.” Mingi reads aloud, eyes wide. Then his mouth falls open. “Yeosang, you’re going to-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 1.7M]

“Yeosang the knight in shining armour to the rescue!” Jongho pulls three kazoos from his pockets and blows wildly. The screeching noise almost breaks a few thousand eardrums around the world.

Yeosang stands up, picking his way through the ketchupy, popcorn mess that is the room. He takes Wooyoung’s hand awkwardly.

“Like this?”

“Great! Yunho, pick up the party popper there and shoot Yeosang with it!” San cheers, almost grinning madly. Yeosang’s eyes widen in horror.

“Wait, what-”

Boom!

[@pinkrosesandblackthorns commented: YEOSANG IS DEAD ARGHHHH]

[@sassy-kpop-glitter commented: NO! NO! YEOSANG NEEDS TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY! DON’T BE SO CRUEL YUNHO]

[@ateez-8-makes-1-team commented: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS YUNHO]

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Yunho yelps, dropping the confetti gun.

Yeosang slumps to the ground, groaning. “That hurt…”

“Join the club.” Hongjoong mutters, a few inches next to him and completely spent.

“Wooyoung, go and shake his body and cry.” San whirls around dramatically, tossing his script into the air.

Wooyoung finally decides to try his hand at acting and sinks to his knees next to Yeosang. San shakes another red bottle on the two of them. “NAORIIIII!”

“No, that movie is Goblin, Wooyoung-”

“What is this ketchup? It’s burning my skin!” Wooyoung shrieks and San double checks the bottle, face turning a little pale.

“Oh. It was chilli.”

There’s a moment of silence as Yeosang and Wooyoung both stare at each other. Then they’re bolting for the door in horror, dashing from the dance studio while tripping over their own feet.

San follows, calling after them.

“Need any help, guys?”

“I’m a terrible person. I’m a terrible cruel, cold hearted man who just killed Yeosang with a confetti gun.” Yunho is mumbling to himself. Mingi pats him on the back, pushing him out of the door as well.

“Maybe you should get some rest, hyung. I hear the author has some pretty nasty stuff planned for you after the Sea Witch arc…”

[@chasingatinydream commented: STOP SPOILING THE STORY MINGI]

The two vanish out of the door.

“I’m going to take a shower and see a doctor.” Hongjoong groans, dragging himself after them. The door clicks shut behind him.

The camera turns around to fit Seonghwa’s unruffled face into the frame.

“Well, that was Pirate King, chapter 22, gunshot. Roll credits.” He shows the floor, the scene of a massacre with popcorn scattered everywhere. “I suppose this is just a good opportunity for cleaning up, hmm?”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 3.6M]

The next thirty minutes of the VLIVE are of Seonghwa’s Cleaning ASMR.