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pinkandgoldensoul · 2 years ago

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Already Home || Chapter 4 - Nothing Is What It Seems

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pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, drinking, makeout session and mentions of sleeping together (but no description of it, SFW), insecurities, lot of fluff, angst other notes: y/n catches a cold? word count: 11.6k (and I didn't even include all the scenes I wanted to, but it was getting out of hand. I always put dividers, if you want to read it in chunks!) A huge thanks to whoever reblogs or likes the story ♥

You took a sip from your cup. The water felt warm around your waist, making it pleasant to stay in there under the moon’s soft beams. You took another sip. While glancing at the dim lights set around the patio, you paid attention to the speakers blasting club music in your direction. You hadn’t noticed them when you had first arrived. To be fair, things had got more than hectic when you had entered Max’s house: a lot of people were already packed in the kitchen, filling up cups and glasses, toasting and talking loudly. As you drank once again from your cup, you placed it right behind you on the poolside and rapidly submerged to warm your arms and hair, which had almost dried out. Underwater, you saw a blurred wood of legs moving, dancing, jumping. You came back to the surface. «All good?» You heard Max say, leaning against the pool right next to you. You turned towards him, a smile on full display. «Yeah. Really good.» «Happy to hear that.» he whispered, getting a little bit closer so that only the two of you could listen. You quickly turned to grab your cup back in your hand and addressed him once again. «Cheers, Max!» «Cheers.» You both toasted lightly, bringing your cups together with a small movement, since they were already close, and stared at each other while doing so. Someone yelling at the opposite end of the pool made your heads turn, just in time you could see Daniel bomb-diving into the pool. Covered in splashes, you all laughed at him; he was definitely enjoying himself a lot. Better than being given pity looks in the paddock, that was for sure. Max had decided to throw a party during the short two-weeks break before Singapore would host the next Grand Prix, and invited friends as well as F1 drivers, plus people he had never seen but were admitted anyway. With a bit of convincing, he managed to bring you there and so far you had been having a whole ton of fun.

Out of the water, right next to the door which divided the patio from the inside of the house, where the heart of the party was, you eyed Carlos and Lando having fun on their own. «Y/n!» As Daniel called you, you diverted the gaze from the drivers’ couple. «Dan!» «I missed you a lot.» he theatrically put his arms around you, engulfing you in a drunk – but still affectionate – hug. «I know, Dan, I did too.» you chuckled, trying not to crush under his weight. Max patted Daniel’s shoulder, in an attempt to help you out of his grubby-drunk hold. «Come on, mate, it isn’t time to be sentimental yet!» «Isn’t it?» Daniel said, rapidly letting you go and turning towards Max. The Dutch simply smiled at him and drank from his cup. Dan, lips parted, looked at you with lost eyes. «It isn’t time yet…» he reasoned under his breath. «But… IT IS TIME TO GO CRAZY!» Before you could make sense of his yell, you felt him wrapping his arms around your legs and raising you out of the water. Letting out a squeal of surprise, you then leaned your head back down and started laughing, lost in joy, as Daniel made you twirl with him and showed you like a trophy all around.

You danced with Daniel and a little group of people he knew before going back to Max, who was laughing and drinking with his close friends. Willing to join them, you took the cup you had left on the edge of the pool, only to see it was empty. Getting out of the water, Max immediately noticed and turned towards your standing figure; as you quickly dried your body with a towel, he looked at you, arms resting on the wooden poolside. «Where are you going?» he asked. You shook your empty cup in front him. «Quick fuel pit-stop.» you said. «Don’t spill it, it’s flammable!» he said laughing, turning back to his friends. Walking to reach the kitchen, you got near Carlos and Lando, who smirked at you. «Did he like it?» the Brit asked. «Uh?» you asked, confused. «The little striptease she gave him? Oh, Max liked it for sure!» Carlos said laughing. «Yeah! Did you see him staring back at her when she walked towards us? He’s so-» «Do you want me to show you something as well?» you asked with a seductive tone, interrupting Lando’s rumbling. As they looked at you surprised, clearly not expecting such an offer, you raised both your middle fingers in front of their faces. Getting past them, you heard them burst out laughing uncontrollably, and didn’t stop yourself from smiling lightly as well. You briefly glanced at the inside of the house: the big room arranged as a dance floor was packed with people dancing at the rhythm of the beats exceptionally chosen by a dear friend of Max who had joined the party at the last moment, Martijn. Everybody was so worked up and hyped you couldn’t even see him through the crowd.

Walking down the corridor, you were drawn to a rapid flow of French talking; you then eyed Charles and Charlotte, clearly having a discussion, as they entered a room and locked it. A little bit uneasy at the sight, you shook your head trying not to think of it and kept going. You reached the kitchen, definitely a calmer and quieter place; you searched for the pack of beers you had seen at the beginning of the party, a few hours earlier, but you guessed it had probably vanished quickly. You then decided to have a look in the hall, sure you would find at least the boxes you had brought. «Here you are!» you said, getting close to the new-found box, opening a bottle and starting to fill up your cup. «Here I am.» You heard a soft voice speaking in front of you, right next to the entrance door; deep inside of you, you knew who that was, and you would’ve preferred to keep your eyes glued to the cup instead of raising them to look at the person. You didn’t, of course. You were met by Kelly’s stare, indecipherable. Without knowing how to react, you slowly became aware of your hand being strangely wet. You had just forgotten to stop pouring beer in the cup; your gaze dropped down and you realized the carpet beneath you could be considered drunk enough for the rest of its lifeless life. «Fuck- Sorry, I mean, ehm…» Panicking and unsure of what to do, also thanks to you not being sober enough to process the situation, you downed the liquid which you had actually poured into the cup and then got rid of it hiding it in the box, together with the beers. «Do… do you know where Max is?» Kelly asked, a brow raised. «Ye-yeah! Of course!» you answered, nodding convulsively. You both stood in awkward silence. «So… Can you bring me to him?» she asked you, trying to read into your dead-panned face. «R-right! It’s this way!» You rushed your steps towards the pool and, after thinking you had got lost, you successfully reached the patio. You halted before the window-door. Was it the right thing to do? Max had told you Kelly had broken up with him over text… You two had briefly discussed it after Monza, and he seemed pretty determined not to hear from her ever again. How could you lead her in front of him without being taken as cruel? «What’s wrong?» Kelly asked, her voice urgent. You didn’t answer. You opened the door and got close to the pool, stopping once again as you stared at Max. He seemed to feel the weight of your eyes, because he turned to look at you standing, motionless, concern written over your face. Max hadn’t time to react, since Kelly brushed past you, sick of waiting, and quickly reached him. Brain fogged up because of alcohol, he stared at her without being able to react. What was she doing? Why was she there?

Did she want to talk? Do that stupid chasing game, leaving him with no mercy and then coming back playing the victim? Max turned his back to her, pretending not to care. He’d suffered because of her shitty silent treatment, and it was time for her to reap what she sought. As soon as he felt the warmth of her hand, carefully placed on his shoulder, though, Max knew his propositions were going to crumble like a house of cards. «Max… Please…» she whispered softly. He abruptly turned his head to her. «What do you want?» he asked, plain yet sounding aggressive. «I want you out of this pool so we can have a talk like adults do.» Kelly stated, determined. Max dryly chuckled and stopped looking at her, his eyes back to the pool. «Do you think you acted like an adult towards me? Because I don’t.» Kelly put a hand on her forehead, exasperated. «Max, stop being a child. I’m not here to waste time.» «Then leave.» «I won’t leave until we discuss.» Max tried not to give up on his words: he wanted her to disappear, so that he could go back to drinking carelessly and having fun. But he couldn’t ignore her, as much as he would force himself to. He quickly got out of the pool, using the same towel you dried yourself with, and pulled Kelly aside, so that they could speak without being heard or interrupted. As they did, a group of people out of the pool started yelling and pushing each other; waking up from your dozed state, you rushed towards them to prevent the brawl from growing even bigger and creating further problems. «I… I didn’t mean to sound rude with my texts. I just needed time to think, and I couldn’t do it with you next to me.» Kelly started. «So?» Max asked, his impatience beginning to soften. «I don’t think you can have both me and y/n.» «What?» Max couldn’t make sense of it: what did that mean? Before he could even act or say something, he felt Kelly’s hands surrounding his neck as she got closer. «But I would never give you up, Max.» she said, tender. As you vainly tried to split the two guys who started fighting, you had time to direct your gaze towards the scene unfolding between Max and Kelly.

Those seconds of distraction, in which you saw the two of them inching closer and closer, prevented you from noticing someone out of the brawl coming towards you. You realized it the moment you lost balance and spun your arms in hope of regaining it but without success. Max, confused as to why Kelly’s lips seemed so near, got startled by the loud sound of splashing water behind him. He turned and saw your hair floating and waving, until you emerged and got checked over by Daniel, who was already in the water. «Are you okay?» the Aussie asked you. «Yeah.» you slurred, looking back to where you were standing before the fall and trying to push away the sense of dizziness. Without even noticing, your gaze turned back on Max, who was still dazed. «Love?» Kelly whispered, to regain the Dutch’s attention. At the word, Max’s head snapped back up to her. How did he call him? «No.» He quickly removed the hold she had on him, almost disgusted, and definitely disturbed by the pet-name he was so used to hearing. He didn’t want to listen to it anymore; not there, not in that moment, not after the way she’d acted. Max found Kelly’s way… weird. «Now what?» she asked, snorting, eyes wide-open. He really wanted to tell her to never search for him again, but he was way too drunk to be able to make sensible decisions. Passing his hand through his hair, he answered. «It’s better if you leave.» Kelly’s heart dropped. «No… No, you don’t mean it, right? Right, Max?» her voice cracked. «Go. Please.» he added, trying to sound as polite as he possibly could but still convincing. Tears in her eyes and pride torn apart, Max saw her furiously pacing towards the exit, without sparing anybody a glance. He thought he’d try to avoid the sight of her leaving because of how difficult it would be to bear; he was ready to feel that tight clenching in his chest, the usual discomfort it would arise inside of him after they’d had a fight. It didn’t. Max felt empty, as if emotions couldn’t fill him anymore nor touch him a bit. Turning on his feet to watch you talking with Daniel, Max suddenly perceived a weight being lifted off his shoulder. The way you swiftly moved your arms in the water, your soaking wet hair, the glossy color of your skin, pearled with drops under the dim lights set around the pool, brushed away any other thought like a gust of wind would do with dark clouds. You were there, with him, having fun and deliberately spending time together. Could things be better than that? Could he ask for more? Electricity and adrenaline rushed through his fingertips. A new wave of energy pushed him inside the pool, taking your hand and pulling towards him. Thinking Max was still talking with Kelly, you got a little startled by his presence right next to you. «Let’s go dance!» he told you full of enthusiasm, smiling and dragging you out of the pool without waiting for an answer. You weren’t embarrassed dancing in a bikini and neither was Max with his swimming trunks; nobody even dared to point out you were getting the floor all wet with water, because it soon started being mixed with sweat due to the heat. Max had asked you to get drunk with him; the way he had whispered it into your ear made you figure out he was probably upset because of Kelly and wanted to get it out of his head. You simply accepted any drink he would pass you without even complaining; you were there to have fun, so it simply felt right. Plus, you didn’t want to make him feel like an outcast or bad in any way by leaving him drinking alone. You had already drunk more than you usually would anyway, so there was no reason in trying to hold back at that point. If you had to drink, you had to fully experience it and enjoy it. «Full send, okay?» he told you, shots in the hands of both of you. You nodded, giggling, your head feeling light. «Now!»

For a while, you had Lando and Carlos dancing around you, laughing, teasing each other and then paying full attention to their girlfriends, who suddenly appeared next to them. In the meantime, Max had joined Martijn to the console and you saw them half-hugging, arms around each other’s shoulders. You stopped dancing to take a look at them, a fond smile adorning your lips. He seemed so happy. You… liked it. Music blasting, lights pouring down on dancing bodies, glasses and cups floating in the crowd: everything seemed in place, where it belonged, how it should be. When did you start liking parties so much? Before you could answer yourself, a weight plopped on your shoulder. «He’s beautiful, isn’t he?» «Yeah.» you answered Daniel, absentmindedly. He didn’t seem surprised by your words, though. «He’s happier when you’re around.» he spoke again, lifting his chin up from your shoulder. «I don’t think it’s just because of me.» you chuckled. «I mean, he’s got so many reasons to be happy.» Daniel deeply stared at you. «Do you think so?» «Yes?» you said, confused at his question. «Y/n, you seem happy too, here, right now.» «Well, I am.» you affirmed, smiling. «Are you?» Those two words had you self-doubting and prevented you from saying anything else. «Everybody hides stuff. We’re all here to forget things, we drink, we laugh, we dance, because we’ve got nothing to lose.» «Or… maybe we’re simply celebrating together.» Daniel sadly smiled. «That seems like a better option.» «C’mon, Danny, we’re here to have fun!» You dragged him in the middle of the dance floor and moved around him trying to get a reaction out of him; he followed you, wooing and acting as crazy as he did before coming to you. Daniel, after minutes which seemed hours, got taken away by some people you didn’t recognize and you were left alone, tired. You stopped dancing, as your limbs suddenly felt heavy. Your eyes locked with the ones of someone who was watching you across the room. Max’s stare was so intense, so deep, so unreadable and cryptic you couldn’t help but let your certainties crumble as he started walking towards you, taking slow and firm steps. None of you diverted gaze, both chanted and connected by the same unknown spell. As your lashes clashed and reopened, they showed you Max had got closer. Flattering them once more, he was now standing right in front of you. He bent his head towards you, letting his fingertips brushing against the back of your hand. «Let’s get out of here.» His words sent chills to your spine and paralyzed you so that you didn’t react to them; you then felt his fingers gently wrapping yours and carefully bringing you out of the room.

The wooden door behind you didn’t give you the support you needed in that moment. The strength, the force, the drive that had taken you and Max couldn’t be restrained. You were crushed by Max’s hold: his hands were desperate, taking advantage of all the skin your swimsuit let on display and bare for him to touch, to explore; yours simply tugged at his damp hair, as your mouths joined in multiple kisses and breathed into each other whenever you’d halted momentarily to look hungrily in each other’s eyes. You felt drunk, overwhelmed; but you couldn’t stop his roaming hands, you couldn’t get away from his lips, quite the opposite, you tried to get even closer to him, to keep his head steady onto you, Max gently nibbling at every inch of skin he could reach. Your lip, earlobe, neck: he needed to taste it all. You could hear him groaning inside the kiss, as much as your faint moans would fuel the pace of your tongues, joined in a desperate dance. It didn’t feel messy, just blissful. As you finally stopped making out, you drank Max’s smile like sweet wine. His eyes searched for yours and pierced right through you, making you shiver. Once again, he took your hand and carried you over the bed; you both laid down, facing each other. You giggled, probably due to your drunk estate, and left a quick kiss on Max’s lips. Before you even realized it, he spun you around and captured you with his arms. «Come here.» he said, as your back leaned on his warm chest, closing your eyes. Max’s started whispering sweet nothings in your ear, so that shivers would run through your spine. «Y/n…» Your body was almost shaking because of the power his voice had on you, because of the chills pervading your body. As your name left his lips once again, an umpteenth shiver had you trembling. His arms’ grip became tighter, hands resting on your belly but slowly making their way upwards. Another shiver caught you, and another one followed. Then suddenly Max’s warmth disappeared, leaving you in a shaking mess, freezing cold.

You opened your eyes. The room was still quite dark, but lit enough to realize it was a place you had never seen. Faint and vague images lingered on your mind, not even able to think about them. Could it all be… a dream? That freezing cold feeling, the one that got you awake, immediately caught your attention, making your hands reach for your arms. Your fingers were soon met by someone else’s arms, though. Startled, you retracted your fingers as if you’d touched fire. Then you slowly and carefully freed yourself from the hold, so that you could look with your eyes a reality you couldn’t, would never accept. As Max’s sleeping figure appeared before your eyes, you gasped and stared at him speechless. His features were relaxed, hands still unconsciously reaching towards you. Before proper panic could occupy your thoughts, a deep pain in the middle of your forehead caught you, as well as your bare, shivering skin: you looked over the room and saw a window opened, cool air entering. «Fuck.» you sighed in distress. Your neck hurt as well and, bringing a hand on it to soothe the pain, you noticed your hair was still damp. Did you sleep with wet hair? But first and foremost… Did you sleep with Max? Suddenly, all the kisses and touching scenes your thoughts had tried to show you were given a face, a name to link to them. Max. You held your breath. For a split second, you reasoned it could simply have been a dream, an overly inappropriate dream, something that made you feel deeply embarrassed and confused, but at least only a fantasy. Even if it had, though, you had drunk too much to know: your memory blurred every time you tried to recall any event of the night and your temples pounded restlessly. And you still woke up hugged with Max, which didn’t exactly fit with the chance of it just being a dream. You got up from the bed carefully, trying not to wake him up. As soon as you saw a bathroom door, you entered it. Zigzagging through a few empty bottles on the ground, you reached the sink and looked at the mirror. You checked your appearance: tired, all over the place, lips a little bit swollen. You brought your fingertips on them. As much as you would’ve liked to abhor what had might happened, a desperate thought pierced its way in your mind: you didn’t remember how it had felt like kissing Max. You touched your lips hoping it would trigger some sensorial memories, but it just replayed all the kissing, the nibbling, the moaning of two friends who got drunk together and went beyond any limit. How did you get in that room with him? How didn’t you stop him before he could do, you could do something so illogical and stupid, something both of you would regret? You put the toilet seat down and sat on it, staring into the void. How did it happen? Well, you were dead drunk. But was it enough to cross any boundary? Did something more happen between the two of you? Something you couldn’t recall at the moment? Did anybody see you, if you’d kissed before getting in the room? Did anyone take pictures? You pressed your cold hands onto your cheeks, trying to halt your worries. You got up and wore one of the bathrobe hanging on the wall, so that you’d stop shivering and trembling while you searched for your clothes.

Walking silently down the corridor, you heard some sizzling noise coming from the kitchen. Your tummy grumbled. Having some breakfast wasn’t a bad idea, after all. Turning towards the kitchen counter, you didn’t expect to find anybody; pretty dumb of you, since a frying pan on a stove meant there was someone cooking. Yet, when your eyes met Carlos’ towering back you gasped and brought your hand to the chest, afraid your heart may flee away. Startled, he briefly checked over his shoulder who it was, acknowledging your presence. «Oh! Hola, y/n.» Carlos greeted you, a veil of surprise in his tone. «H-hi.» Your voice came out hoarse, shivers still travelling through your skin. He kept his focus onto the pan, as silence settled in the room once again. Unsure of what to do, you moved closer to the fridge and opened it. «Sorry if I didn’t believe you when you told me you were an early bird.» you said, referring to a conversation you had with him and Charles back in Monza. He giggled. «You should trust me a little bit more.» he replied. The pounding in your head made you incapable of choosing any of the food inside the fridge; there wasn’t much anyway, you figured. Carlos, turning towards the counter – and towards you – as he put his cooked eggs on a plate, saw you standing still and silent. «Hangover?» he simply asked. You nodded, then regretted it as pain cursed through your forehead. «Drink water, then.» Following his advice, you took a huge 1,5-liter bottle and grabbed an empty cup, still placed on the counter from the night before, and sat in front of Carlos. You stared at him eating for a while, Carlos eyeing you up from his plate a tad confused, then decided to open the bottle and pour a cup. As you did so, Carlos broke the ice. «Did you have fun with Max?» The counter got soaked with water. Either miscalculating the amount of water coming out of the bottle or being hit like a freight train by Carlos’ words, you avoided his gaze and dried the surface with your sleeve. «Why are you wearing a bathrobe?» he then asked, noticing for the first time your unusual mise. «Carlos!» you half-screamed. «What?» His doe eyes forced you to put a softer tone and involuntarily show a bit of discomfort, closing the hems of neckline with your hands. «Can you stop making weird questions?» «You’re making it weird not answering them!» You sighed, frowning. You weren’t ready to tackle the topic, and certainly not in the right condition to. But would you ever find yourself ready for it? Probably not.

«Did… did you see anything?» you half-whispered. «You mean, between you and Max?» You hummed. «Well…» he cleared his throat before speaking again. «I saw you in the pool, when I was with Lando. And I also noticed you were pretty close back inside, while dancing. For a moment I thought you had kissed.» he nervously chuckled, embarrassed. «Did we?!» you asked, eyes wide-opened. «I didn’t see, the floor was packed.» Carlos said matter-of-factly. He realized you were edgy, way too edgy about it. «Did something happen?» The calm tone of his voice contrasted your racing thoughts. «I don’t know, Carlos!» Your hands ran through your hair, not caring about how messy they would be afterwards. «I… I woke up in bed with him.» «Okay.» he said. «Probably there wasn’t room elsewhere, y/n. You were both drunk and-» «We were spooning.» you added in a breath. Carlos stopped, a bit taken aback. «Maybe you were clingy-drunk. But now you’re going to tell me something else happened, right?» He said that as a joke; he was smiling. As he saw your features not reciprocating his, he sighed and let the forehead drop on his hands. «What else, y/n?» he asked, monotone. «I think we made out.» Carlos’ head immediately snapped up to stare at you. «‘You think’?» he said, bewildered. «I don’t know if it was just a dream… But when I woke up, I just had images of it in my head. They felt real, Carlos.» As your voice cracked, you searched for reassurance in his eyes. Right when he opened his mouth to talk, you sneezed. «Bless you!» «Thanks.» you whispered, your forehead aching as much as your throat did. «Don’t think too much about it-» «Achoo!» «Bless you. Maybe Max remembers something and will-» «Achoo!» «…tell you. Are you sure you are okay?» Carlos got up and tore off a piece of paper towel, handing it over to you. «I think I might have caught a cold or something. I woke up shivering because the window was open and my hair was still damp.» «Well, I guess that’s the prize for sleeping with Max.» «Carlos!» You patted his shoulder, while he laughed off, sitting back again in front of his breakfast. «You going home?» he asked you, noticing you were searching for something in the living room. «Yes, I just need my clothes.» «Nah, you don’t. You have your cute Max’s robe, what else do you need?» he said, munching. «Max’s robe?» you asked confused. He gestured with his finger towards the front of the robe; stitched there was his name. «Oh no.» «Did you also wake up with that on? Because then you definitely fucked. That’s some kinky stuff I don’t want to know about.» «Who said kinky stuff?» Before you could scream at Carlos, Daniel entered the kitchen, interested in the strange and inappropriate discussion. «Nothing, Dan. Did you see my clothes by any chance?» you asked him, trying to subtly change the topic. Not very subtle, since, prompted by the question, he naturally looked at your mise. «Why are you wearing a freaking bathrobe?» the Aussie frowned. «You see? I’m not the only one finding it weird!» Carlos said. «Oh my gosh.» You walked away from the two of them, going to check over the pool for your clothes; they were, in fact, still laid on a deck chair. «Are you already leaving?» Daniel asked you as you entered, changed. «Ye- Achoo!» You startled the two drivers, saying in unison “Bless you”. «I’m going home, I don’t feel good.» you rushed. «I see. Get well soon, so we can throw another kinky-party.» Daniel said, playful. «Bye, guys!» Before they could turn around to wave goodbye, you were already gone.

Daniel and Carlos had breakfast together, lazily chitchatting for a while. Max got awakened by their laughter. He opened his eyes, head pounding but no headache in sight. He deeply inhaled. He moved his arm on the other side, expecting to find someone. Instead of noticing the sheets were cold and empty, Max gazed at the ceiling questioning his own gesture. Why did he automatically reach out for someone? Did he sleep with anybody? Like a lightning through dark clouds, the image of your face struck in his thoughts. You had shared the bed. A faint trail of your scent still drenched the pillow next to him, making him long for your presence, your skin, your hair, your smile. Max suddenly wanted to touch you, to hug you, to stay in bed all morning with you without talking or moving, just spending time together. But you weren’t there. He spread his arm over the empty side of the mattress. You had probably already got up. He decided to do the same.

Entering the kitchen, Max got blinded by the sunlight coming through the huge glass windows. «Look, the sleeping beauty woke up, Carlos!» «Seems more like the sleeping monster.» Carlos and Daniel both laughed at Max, who raised a middle finger towards them. «No, Max, that’s not polite. Please, behave.» Daniel said with a faked sweet tone. «Do you know where’s y/n?» he asked, his sleepy eyes trying to adapt to the brightness. «Mate, you don’t even greet us first and you ask about y/n instead?» Carlos mocked. «Yeah, Carlos is right. You forget your friends?» Max opened the fridge, annoyed. «What are you talking about, y/n is also a friend…» he said in a low tone of voice. «Sure?» Carlos spatted, amused. «For real guys. Do you know where she is or not?» Max turned back to them with some juice in his hand, awaiting an answer. «She’s gone home.» Daniel said. «Home?» Max asked, frowning. «Alone?» «She’s old enough, you know?» Carlos smiled. «Yes, but she usually waits for me.» Max got lost in thought: why did you run away without even saying bye if you would be heading towards the same destination anyway? «Maybe she got tired of waiting.» Daniel said, smile getting bigger as he expected a reaction from Max. But the Dutch didn’t pay attention to him; instead, he searched for his phone. He ran to the room and took it in his hand, dialing.

Your phone rang as you tried to reach out for the spare keys Max had given you, still deep in your pocket. «Hi, Max!» you quickly said. «Whe– where are you?» He sat on the bed, hand on his forehead as the hangover started building up. «I’m back at the apartment, I…» you sniffed, «I don’t feel good.» Max tried to speak but got interrupted by your sneeze over the phone. «Fuck… Do you have a fever? How do you feel?» He passed a hand through his hair, rushing questions. «No, I think it’s just a cold… The window was open last night, this morning I woke up shivering.» As you finished the sentence, you mentally facepalmed: had you just implied you two had slept in the same room while not being ready to talk about it? Yes, you had. «Do you need medicine? I can go to the drugstore before I get there.» «No, don’t come here! Max, you’re going to get sick as well!» «I won’t leave you alone if you’re ill, y/n.» You sighed. «Max…» you said, soft, «You still have a lot of races to go. I don’t want to infect you with whatever I have.» «Okay, but… All my stuff is at the apartment. Eventually I’ll need to come and take it.» «Hopefully I’ll be fine by that time.» you let out, sighing. «Well, I guess I’m going to stay here, then. The simulator is upstairs anyway.» «Perfect.» you hissed because of the headache. «But I’ll come see you in three days.» «Max!» you complained. «Do you need a maid? You know, to cook, clean and all that type of things?» «Max, it’s just a cold, I can manage.» You heard him sigh, resigned. «Promise you’ll call me if you need anything.» «Promise.» you smiled. «And don’t even try to ghost my texts!» «Of course not.» you laughed. «Take care of yourself.» «Take care too, Max.»

You quietly made your way up the building stairs, slowly approaching the apartment Max had asked you to share. Still feeling off, you opened the door and dragged yourself inside. A shuffling noise coming from one of the bedrooms made you stop in the middle of the living room. As a flash, you saw Kelly cross the corridor and rush to the bathroom. With unsure steps, you got closer hoping she would notice your presence; she did, exiting the bathroom with a beauty-case in her hand, and you immediately regretted it. She looked awful: mascara all over her face; red, puffy eyes, trembling hands. And words sharper than knives. «What the fuck are you doing here?!» «I… live here?» you answered, scared of her reaction. She dropped the beauty-case to the floor, making you flinch, then she pointed her finger towards you in accusation. «Why is it always you, uh? You’re literally wherever Max is! You’re like a little puppy, following him and preventing him from spending time with me, his fucking girlfriend! And he dumped me because of you! I can’t believe it… You had to get in our way, didn’t you? We had it all, we were starting to build a family… Do you even know what a family is?» She quickly took her phone and angrily showed you pictures of Penelope and Max, all of them together, all of them happy. «Do you see it? Do you see what I’ve lost because of you? You ruined it!» You stood still, unable to react. Kelly hid her face in her palms, sighing and crying, only to look back at you. «I hope you’re happy now! But you’re not going to be the one who tells my daughter she’s lost him as well, right?» «It’s not my fault.» you whispered. But you didn’t mean it: it was a poor attempt to convince yourself it wasn’t. Your teary eyes showed the truth: the hurt, the untold truth they desperately needed to unveil. «Right. It never is! My relationship falling apart isn’t because of a girl living with my boyfriend and being around him more than I do! You know what? Just take it, take him, learn how to stand by a F1 driver! But don’t come at me when you realize you can’t keep up with it, because it will be way too late!» She entered the main bedroom and then stormed out of it, bumping into your shoulder while doing so. As you heard the door slam, a tear escaped your eyes. Right after, a waterfall of tears rained down your face. You had dreaded it, you had foreseen it; you had weakly tried to prevent it from happening, causing a bigger mess with Max; then you simply ignored it and forgot it. You had ruined it. The opportunity of a new beginning, a newfound love for Kelly; the support of a much-needed family for the little Penelope; lastly, the chance for Max to escape old toxic bonds and start over, writing a happier ending to such a tough and traumatizing childhood. You had ruined it all. Being accused felt nothing compared to seeing Kelly’s sadness painted on her features, nothing compared to the thought of her finding a way to explain the situation to her daughter. Sorry, Penelope, nobody loves you and you’ll never have a father.

The guilt was creeping out and eating you alive, paired up with an incurable despair. There was sickness, yes, you felt sick inside, cold climbing up your limbs, lips quivering and trembling convulsively. You nestled up on the couch, grabbing the first cover you had found in your bedroom, and cried until you fell asleep, finally finding peace and being able to rest, just for a while.

Darkness was all around. That was all you could see once you had woken up. Your nose felt stuck and it was difficult to breathe; your forehead still ached a little. You couldn’t tell whether it was for the crying or the illness; maybe because of both? Trying to get up from the sofa, with tired steps you searched for some tissues: you figured out you would need them a lot. Plopping back near the armrest for better support, you stared into the void: the apartment was sunk in a comfortable silence, veiled by darkness, almost floating above Monaco’s streets. It felt lonelier than expected. Those were the moments in which you’d think accepting moving in had been a stupid idea, a reckless and non-sense one. It felt empty, now that you knew Kelly had moved out, or at least had tried to. Her hurt face still distressed you. For a second, you tried to put yourself in her shoes: you couldn’t even imagine how stressful being a single mom was, especially after being left twice. The trust issues Penelope would have to face in the future due to her paternal figures disappearing after a few years; her thinking the fault may be hers. A daughter growing up and believing she is the problem. Nothing new, after all. Right?

You decided to get up and stop pitying yourself; cooking something for dinner seemed a reasonable and quite useful option. Opening the fridge, you found… some salad in a plastic envelope, a cart of milk, three lone tomatoes and a pack of Red Bull’s cans. Salad and tomatoes would be. While searching for a plate inside the cupboard, you heard your phone vibrating on the couch. You went grab it to read the new text you had received, curious to see who it was from. Strange someone had remembered you even existed. “How are you doing? All good?” It was Max, and you smiled. How could you not? You were sick and lonely, but your heart would race faster regardless of the distance, just because he had thought of you. Just because he cared. “My nose and throat doing a lil bit worse I’m good tho” “Need anything?” You flipped your eyes back to the counter and snorted, amused. “Actually yes” “Shoot” “Groceries. Your fridge is full of red bulls and nothing else I’m going shopping tomorrow, this is unacceptable” «Fuck!» «What?» Daniel turned around and saw Max facepalming. «The fridge back at the apartment is almost empty.» «Poor y/n…» Daniel laughed. «You were all worried she’d die because she’s alone and ill, but she’s actually going to die of hunger. She deserved to live, she was a good friend…» the Aussie said, dramatically pretending to wipe away tears. Max sighed. “Sorry, I forgot. Do you want me to order something for you?” “No, three bold tomatoes survived the war” Smiling, you sent him a picture of your plate. “It looks better than whatever Daniel is cooking for the two of us” You raised your eyebrows surprised. “Can he cook???? I didn’t know!” «Y/n is questioning your cooking abilities.» Max laughed. «You’re about to have the best dinner date of your life, so don’t try to distract me.» “Food intoxication could occur within the next 24 hours, so it’s been a pleasure y/n” “Bet Dan can cook better than you do” «What’s this silence, buddy?» Daniel asked. «I can smell the roasting from here.» «What are you talking about…» Max said, while typing an answer. «She roasted you because of your nonexistent cooking skills, right?» «Stop it!» «Okay, she definitely did.» Max and Daniel both smiled without looking at each other. They had missed spending time together. It wasn’t planned. That morning, Daniel had sat next to Max on the couch and started talking as some people, still in the house, began awkwardly walking away. Chatter and laughter filled the room with that light, pleasant pinch of fun Max had always loved about Daniel, so it simply felt natural to ask him to stay over for dinner. Just as normal friends do. Max couldn’t recall the last time they had seen each other off the track to have a good time. «May I have your attention?» Daniel asked in an overly formal tone. He invited the Dutch to take a seat and put the dish in front of him, as a waiter would do. Max tried to hold back a laugh: he had also missed his silliness. «What’s the name of the dish?» «The art of regretting life choices.» Daniel said, sitting in front of Max. «Oh, is it your speciality?» They laughed at the same time. «It quite is.»

After a careful and thorough taste-test – just to be sure the food was edible – Max and Daniel started eating, looking at each other at times and smiling for no reason. The sun was already setting down, still letting a few shining flakes of light reflecting onto the pool water. Daniel attentively watched Max’s every move, almost studying his behavior, and he easily noticed the way he would check over his phone quite often. «Did she stop answering?» Daniel asked, looking down at his food, unable to stifle a smile. «Uh?» Max’s head snapped towards him, clearly taken aback by the question. «Y/n. You’re waiting for her to reply, right?» Daniel saw a flash cross Max’s face, a light, a sparkle inside his eyes now lit up, but the Dutch was quick to divert gaze and react to being caught red-handed. «Yes, but probably she’s eating as well.» he said, scratching his nape. «Oh, did she manage to find something inside your dusty pantries?» Daniel chuckled. «Yeah, she did.» Max felt awkward, now that Daniel had brought the topic onto the table: you. It made him nervous and excited at the same time, and it weirded him out because he couldn’t understand why it had such an effect on him. «You two had a lot of fun yesterday, didn’t you?» Daniel then asked. «Yeah, it was really nice.» Max simply grinned at him, but the Aussie was having none of that practiced-media-smiling expression. «I saw you getting in your room together.» Max swallowed and looked at Daniel straight into his eyes, waiting for him to go on. «Max… I want to know if our relationship is at risk.» the Aussie said, with a pathetic worried expression that got the both of them cracking up. «But actually… I mean, it’s you guys’ business, and you know I’d never tell Kelly about it…» Max stopped Daniel rambling before he would get more awkward than it already was. «Kelly and I broke up, it’s fine. And there’s nothing between me and y/n. But now I’m curious, what did you see, mate?» he said, chuckling in anticipation. «Oh, I’m sorry for you and Kelly.» «It’s okay, not a big deal.» «Uhm, okay… Anyway, my phone ran out of battery, and I desperately needed to record Lando drunkenly talking to a door to blackmail him in the future… So, I went to your room to search for a charger and basically right after you came in hugging with y/n. You seemed pretty shit-faced, to be honest.» «Why were you searching for a charger in MY room?!» Max asked, in disbelief. «Guess I was shit-faced too.» «Oh my god…» Max said, shaking his head. «You two fell onto the bed like a couple of zombies and laughed as two idiots.» «Luckily, I don’t remember a thing.» «Luckily… unless something has happened.» As Daniel stared at Max expecting him to say add anything to the conversation, Max, who was trying hard to recall the moment, got struck by a memory. «Wait a minute… You… Daniel, you opened the window, right?» «What?» «Yes, you opened the window because you said it felt too hot in there or something like that.» Daniel, lips slightly parted, looking for that piece of information with his eyes, almost as if they were plumbing the depths of his brain’s abyss, suddenly got enlightened. «Oh yes, I remember! Ah ah! It was a good joke.» Silence followed and Max, not quite enjoying the embarrassment starting to veil his cheeks because of Daniel stare, broke it. «Let’s eat, it’s going to get cold.» «Yep, this amazing food deserves true appreciation.» «And the cook does too.»

A buzzing noise woke you up. It was low, almost inaudible; yet, it broke your sleep and your hand felt forced to reach for the bed-side table. It was your phone, someone was calling. «Hello?» you said, trying to cover the hoarseness of your voice. «Hi, y/n!» It was Charles. «Hi! All good?» you asked, a bit surprised by the call. He chuckled. «Carlos told me you’re sick, I wanted to check up on you.» «Oh, that’s really nice of you…» you smiled. He had woken you up so damn early and your eyes, your throat, your nose hurt, but it still was incredibly nice of him. «I’ve caught a cold, but I’m doing better.» «Guess you stayed in that pool a little bit too much!» You both laughed at it. «After I got in, I kind of lost track of time, to be honest.» you added. «’Cause you were having fun?» «Yes.» you admitted, half whispering. There were a couple of seconds of silence, which gave you time to sit on the bed, in an attempt to get your body more awake. «Uhm, y/n, can I ask you something?» «Charles, of course.» «But don’t get me wrong, okay?» «Okay…? You’re making me worried!» you chuckled. «At the party… I saw you getting in a room with Max.» Your heart stopped: your cheeks immediately flushed because of embarrassment and also due to the covers still over you, making an effect. «I… I was just wondering how things are between you two after, you know, after Zandvoort and Monza-» «Charles, what- why are you asking this?» «Because you’re a friend of mine and I just want to make sure you’re happy, especially after I’ve picked you up drunk and crying in the middle of a street.» Heavy silence fell on both ends. «No, I’m fine, Charles… And there is nothing between us.» you rushed. «Okay, that’s fair.» he stated. Other moments of silence occupied the line, before breaking the ice once again. «Charles… I saw you too, at the party.» you began, unsure. «Was it a good sight, at least?» he asked, playful. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him. «No, I mean… You and Charlotte… I think you were arguing or something.» Your worried and tensed tone of voice poorly concealed the implicit answer you really wanted to ask him. «Arguing is part of being a couple. Sharing life together also brings discussions. It’s all good, y/n.» You couldn’t help but sadly frown at his words and at how defeated they sounded. Naturally, a hit of self-doubt didn’t miss the chance of hitting you. «Was it for the picture?» «What picture?» Charles asked. «The one in Zandvoort, of us entering the hotel… Sorry, Charles, I didn’t even know it was posted, Max showed me the article a couple days before the party and-» Charles stopped your rant before it would uselessly get any further. «No, y/n, it isn’t because of that, don’t worry. I had talked about it with Charlotte right after and she was fine with it.» You suddenly heard on the other line a lot of chatter and someone seemingly talking to Charles. «Y/n, sorry, I have an interview and I need to get ready… But it was nice to hear from you!» «Oh, thanks, Charles! Have a good day.» «You too, y/n. Take care!» Once you tossed your phone on the other side of the bed, you closed your eyes and sighed. You felt trapped. Those covers chained you to your thoughts, your illness, your monotony; you didn’t feel like doing anything and couldn’t stand the weakness draining you. It was a simple cold. You would get over it quickly. But why did it feel like a lethargy? Why did it take any bit of energy out of your body, out of your mind?

Hunger pushed you out of the bed; a blanket still over your shoulders, you walked towards the fridge and had your breakfast – a cup of cold ice milk – at 11.34 a.m. You laid down onto the sofa. Stared at the ceiling. Every single cell of you felt bored and tired; it was only natural for you to slip again into Morpheus’ arms.

«Y/n…» Y/n. All you could hear was your own name, someone whispering it against your ear. A sudden wave of heat reached your skin: you felt a presence next to your face, hot breaths hitting your sensitive neck. It was all around you, all onto you, a body radiating warmth and making you crave even more closeness. «Y/n… Y/n, I need you.» It was no longer a whisper, no; you could clearly recognize the voice and, before being able to react, skin was touching skin, tight, in an unexpected, intimate hug. You naturally wrapped your arms around him, beyond overwhelmed: everything about Max, everything about that situation felt intense and amplified. Your heartbeat seemed to resonate in each fiber of your body, making it blatantly evident how the closeness affected you, how Max affected you. While holding onto him, you suddenly felt his body taken away, together with his comforting presence. «We don’t need you.» A loud, painful pang in the middle of your chest. It hit you, struck you, wrecked you without warning: you recognized the voices, you could even see their faces despite the dark room you suddenly found yourself in. You got up and tried to escape it. You couldn’t bear to hear your parents’ words echo and ricochet onto the walls just to crush you harder, but you soon noticed there was one door and it was tragically locked. Ugly tears probably cut through your cheeks, as sighs made way for a defeated and helpless scream. «Y/n!» Your name felt like nails on a chalkboard: sharp, unbearable, getting your senses on full alert. «Y/n!» Why did it sound so… close? «Y/n!» Like a slap on the face, it woke you up and got you jumping forwards, but the hold two hands had on your arms stopped you halfway, so that you locked eyes with someone, with Max. He had come over to check on you, as he had promised, and found you lying on the couch, far from being quietly sleeping as he expected. His own breath mimicked yours, as he got closer to you trying to make sense of the whimpers coming out of your lips. You trembled, and still trembled in his hold after he got you awake; he couldn’t help but stare at your teary eyes, your flushed face. Max tried his best not to sound or act harshly, but a flame burned inside of him and consumed him. Frustration. He should’ve expected you to get worse, to be feverish, not being able to do everything on your own. He should’ve done something more to help you, instead of giving up to your stubborn self. And now he had to look at you, blaming his choices and in search of a way to compensate. «M-Max?» you fluttered your eyelashes multiple times, afraid of hallucinating. Your hoarse voice triggered his frustration even further. He simply sighed at you. You saw him getting up and coming back quickly with a big glass of water, a thermometer and some pills. «You keep a thermometer in here?» you asked, still a little bit shook. «It was Penelope’s.» he said, handing it to you without looking. «Max, I’m okay, I don’t think I have-» «You’re taking it right now.» His tone didn’t leave much room for discussion. But you failed to notice his distress, too caught up in your own. «Max, really… I’m okay.» You didn’t mean to, of course. How could you even do it on purpose? «No, you’re not.» Still, you pushed him over the edge. «I-I had a bad dream, Max, that’s it.» you gulped, his tensed expression making it hard for you to keep it cool. Because with that, you had twisted the knife inside his wound a little bit deeper. «‘That’s it’.» he let out a nervous chuckle. «That’s it, right. You’re shaking, it seems like you’re having a fucking panic attack in your sleep, you wake up with flushed cheeks and you’re about to cry, but you pretend everything is fine! Maybe this isn’t even the first time it happens! How do I know? How can I even-» Max’s hands reached his face before he could say anything he would possibly regret saying.

You tried to get up so that you could face him properly, not able to sustain his hurt tone washing over you from above. Though, Max immediately stopped you and kept you down onto the couch. «Y/n…» Max closed his eyes and kept repeating your name under his breath like a chant, his hands still on your shoulders, trying to calm himself down by preventing you from involuntarily fueling his frustration even more. Then his irises pierced right through you, tinted with an something you had never seen in them. Pain. And it was inside his eyes that you felt your inner world collapse. Deep down, Max was expecting you to cry, somehow; but when the moment came, he felt totally unprepared to take in your emotions, since he was trying to deal with his own. He took your hands, which were trying to hide your freed tears in vain. «I… Max, I took a family away from you.» Not able to cover your face with your hands, you buried it onto his chest, defeated. Max didn’t hesitate at the gesture, but lingered over your words. «What are you talking about?» he whispered, a bit confused, placing a hand on your head and slightly pressing it towards him. «Kelly… I saw her an- and she was so sad…» As you mumbled several times “I’m sorry” through sniffles, Max immediately grabbed you and gently pushed you away from him so that he could look at you. «What do you mean? When did you see her?» He panicked at the idea of Kelly trying to ruin things between you as a stupid revenge. Did he think she would manipulate or tell lies just to purposely make you feel bad? No, Max didn’t. But the mere thought drove him crazy, and he needed to know whether she had or not. «She was here to get her stuff,» you sniffled, «and she was upset… She doesn’t know how to tell Penelope… It was your new family, Max, I’m so sorry I ruined it all.» Max’s heart shattered. Splinters of it hit you as well, lacing blood and tears through the same river, pouring down as an only waterfall. You could hear the turmoil, the blast raging inside of him, and you could see it portrayed in his eyes, wandering into yours in search of peace, in need of reassurance, though you had none to give him nor yourself. As Max unconsciously pulled you close and gently rubbed your back while you sobbed, he started analyzing the consequences of his decisions. Did he care about Kelly being gone? Not really, after the things she had said. Did he care about Penelope being gone? Yes. But he knew she was an extremely loved daughter, surrounded by the Piquets, and had a father, as well. It seemed easier to subside his own attachment with cold logic, even though he perfectly knew there would be much more to deal with other than scratching the surface. He would do that, someday; he would. Not now. Not with you weeping in his arms because of a situation you were completely foreign to, and still felt guilty for. Not with you igniting a stronger flame of sadness in the middle of his chest, capable of eclipsing any other thought or worry. «Y/n, I want you to listen carefully, because this is the last time I’ll tell you.» His calm yet serious tone made you shiver, while he took your face into his hands. «You’re the only family I need.» Max didn’t look away, not even for a split second. And neither did you; like two opposite poles being locked in their attraction, you stared at each other as deeply as you had never done before; your eyes being the same ocean, waves of emotions overflowing into one another. «Whatever Kelly told you, forget it. I just want you to stop crying because of stupid people, and I want you to heal, so that you come back to have fun with me as we always do. I don’t want anything or anyone to take the relationship we have away from us and I don’t want it to change.» Max swept with his thumb a warm tear you couldn’t keep in after hearing his words. «I hate to see you cry.» he said in a whisper, wiping away other tears away from your skin, away from your heart.

A tingle in the middle of your chest urged you to speak, to thank him, to say something in order not to leave him with dead silence as an answer, but your mouth opened a couple times without emitting sound. As unexpected as a thunder during a summer, sunny day, Max quickly leaned towards you and left a slow, soft, affectionate kiss on your forehead. It seemed to take away all your worries and to put order through your chaotic brain, making you forget everything else with a pleasant confusion and the tingling near your heart began radiating through your body. Max got up and offered you his hands to help yourself stand up as well. Still a bit confused, you followed him to the kitchen, where he made you sit back again. «Bought some food to get you in shape as soon as possible!» With his bright cute smile, he took all the things he had brought with him out of bag and showed them to you, as to get your approval. «And I bought some dinner, too!» Max raised his eyes to see whether you felt happy about it; your faint smile and your hands travelling up and down your arms immediately activated his protective mode. «Are you cold?» «I don’t kno-» He had already gone towards the bedrooms and come back with a blanket, which he placed over your shoulder carefully. Before moving on, he stood still looking at you: you seemed off, both physically and mentally. «Do you want to eat?» he asked, at this point doubtful his plans would work. «Not really.» you said, sad. «It’s okay. It’s a bit early for dinner anyway.» Max said, checking the time. Think, Max. Think. He had to find an idea, a sparkle, anything that could make you feel better, because he couldn’t stand seeing you so low. He sighed. «Why don’t you take your temperature?» You avoided him. «Didn’t you say you would pass by in three days?» «Oh, did you want me to leave you starving?» he smiled. And your heart skipped a beat. «Uhm, no, but I…» Unsure of what to say, aware of the lie you had right on the tip of the tongue, you let Max block any excuse. «No, y/n, you wouldn’t have left the house to go shopping, since you’re here trembling like a leaf.» At this point all your walls and defenses had fallen down, turned into ashes, and despite the blanket you tightly held, you felt naked, vulnerable under Max’s stare. Those seconds of silence made you nervous and tense, but at the same time a flame was slowly melting you inside; you wanted to curl up into a ball, so that you could keep yourself together without falling apart in front of him, because of him. «Is there anything you’d like to do? Something that would make you feel better?» You gulped, trying to push away your trail of thoughts. «Right now, I think I would only be able to lay down on a bed and do nothing.» you lightly chuckled. «Okay, let’s do that.» Uh? What? «C’mon.» Max got closer to your chair and gently placed his hands on your arms, as an invite to get up. «What are you doing?» you said, your voice cracking. Because you were ill, you thought. Because you were close to him, you knew, deep down.

«If it makes you feel better, we’ll lay on a bed and do nothing.» Like two feathers carried around by the wind, you both reached Max’s bedroom; not really able to get a hold of the situation, of what was happening exactly, you froze. Something stopped you, something blocked you. Memories from the party and whatever might have happened that night haunted you after the words Max had said. I don’t want it to change. You were the only family he’d need, but he was the only family you had. The only one you couldn’t afford to lose. That knot in your stomach, the warmth in your chest, the tingles caused by his stare, all those feelings that you had started picking up along the way like small flowers suddenly revealed themselves as a heavy and deadly weight: you couldn’t allow them to grow roots in your heart and they couldn’t show through in any way. And as flowers, they would wither, eventually. Max’s touch awoke you and painfully reminded you how much of a hard task it would be to let whatever you felt for him die, with him happily floating around you. «Do… do you prefer the couch?» Max asked you, mistaking your hesitation. «N-no, it’s okay.» He sat onto the bed, took off his shoes and kind of jumped on it, smiling at you like a happy kid having fun, then laid down and got comfortable. In quick and small steps, you mimicked him and got next to him, careful not to get too close. Max, who was having none of it, swiftly pulled you near to him, scooting over a bit so that you could lean on his chest. Well, so that you could hide your blushed cheeks. Max noticed, and he simply found it cute. «Don’t act like this is the first time.» His words made you open your eyes wide in embarrassment. You tried to avoid the topic, hoping silence would kill it. «Y/n?» It didn’t. «Mmh?» you hummed, face still pressed down to him. «You don’t need to be embarrassed. I mean, even Daniel saw us.» Your heart was about to blow up: Daniel had seen you. Okay. Not okay, but okay. What were you supposed to say? What would Max want you to tell him? Was it the start of a much-needed confrontation you guys should have had earlier? Your pupils flicked left and right in search of clarity, without finding any. «Saw what?» you whispered as if you didn’t know, as if you didn’t want to know. «He saw us at the party. You know, when we entered my room and basically passed out onto the bed because of how drunk we got.» Slightly moving your head towards him, you watched him smiling as he recalled the moment. And a wave of relief mixed with doubts immediately hit you. «Did he see us down the corridor?» you asked, still trying to make sense of it. «No, he was already inside, he was searching for a charger in my room. He said we didn’t even acknowledge him and simply snuggled together.» «Oh.» Lie. You had lived the last couple days trapped in a stupidly beautiful yet scary lie: that you and Max had kissed each other, craved each other, maybe even slept together. All those images your mind had played were mere illusions, dreams, indicators of underlying feelings which went unnoticed by the radars. Nothing had happened. Your worries should’ve melted like snow under the sun, but they didn’t; indeed, they multiplied, and they showed on the outside, since Max easily read into your silence. «You okay?» «Yes! Yes, I, uhm, I just don’t remember anything of it.» Truth. It was the truth, after all. «Ah, don’t worry, neither do I!» Max laughed off. Your head laid back onto his chest, once again, as if it was its place of belonging, its natural place.

Forced to let go of all the fake kisses, you were now left with the other memories you had gathered over time and they lingered in your mind, lightly floating and giving off a sweet taste though a bit faded. You noticed how close you and Max had grown after time and how comfortable you had got to physical contact; was it normal? Was it something friends would do? After all, Max often initiated it, so was it okay to him as well? As your and Max’s hands found each other onto his chest and began tenderly and unconsciously intertwining, your thoughts raced and a thousands of questions popped into your mind, but being unable to answer them, you simply gave in to the moment and to Max’s fingers playing with your hair. «I’m going to fall asleep.» you giggled, hinting at the overly relaxing situation. «Okay.» Max said in a whisper. Instead of stopping his hands, he guided your arm over his torso, so that you would cling onto him and get totally comfortable, and he protectively held your shoulder to have you even closer. Your eyes shut, your lips involuntarily curling upwards and comfort radiating through your entire body, wanting to get lost in his embrace. Max felt you relaxing under his touch and couldn’t help but smile as well. Silence and stillness seemed to move away the chaos, the loud media writing shit about him, people hating or always ready to put their sharp tongues into use. On that bed, lying next to you, with you, Max’s heart swam in a lake of joy and calm, and the magic bubble you two were able to create made him crave those moments more and more. No, Max didn’t want to change any of it: that little piece of heaven you had needed to be protected, nurtured, and taken care of. He would do anything to preserve it, to keep it safe. To keep you safe. «Let’s sleep, y/n.»

It took me two days to post this. Two freaking days. But I've learned a few tricks to post chapters faster, so I guess it was worth it? Hope it was worth waiting for it!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #golden #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen angst #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfiction

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fourmula1 · 2 years ago

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Not sure if you’re taking requests. But what about depressed Omega Daniel and Max during the Melbourne Weekend. I just think he’s looking so good lately.

“You’re really sure?” Max asks him for the hundredth time today.

Daniel would be annoyed if he wasn’t so endeared.

Max has been stressing since they left Monaco; fussing over Daniel, worrying about if this was the right move for Daniel, if he should be traveling back to Australia and fucking up his routine he was getting into. How his mental health would be.

Daniel was sure. He’d have a lot of support going to the race with Max, the love of the team, getting to see Michael.

And his family.

First stop: Melbourne. Next stop: Perth.

A whole month home in Perth with his parents and sister and the kids. And Max.

He’d had his doctor fill his meds and birth control for the next month so he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that and instead could focus on soaking up the Australian sun and filling his cup with the love of his family.

“I’m sure,” Daniel said as he adjusted his backpack straps, waiting near the hotel suite door for Max to stop fussing so much about how this weekend was going to go. “Stop worrying so much, think about the race!”

“I am of course always thinking about the race but that does not mean I cannot think about you, too,” Max said with a little frown as he picked up his own backpack, eyeing Daniel carefully. “Do you have your pills?”

Daniel rolls his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. He takes his birth control and his anti depressant every night when he and Max brush their teeth together before bed. It’s only media day; they’re not going to be at the track until bedtime.

“Max,” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I’ll take them tonight, we’re fine. Just, hurry up so we can get out of here,” he nods to the door, ready to get going. Brad texted that he was downstairs with the car fifteen minutes ago.

Finally Max agreed and they left together, heading down the hotel hallway and riding the elevator to the lobby.

It was surreal to be back at Albert Park and not racing this year, but the atmosphere was warm none the less. His face was plastered everywhere despite not having a seat. Daniel knew the media and the fans anticipated him being here this weekend and he was finding it rather nice, if he did say so himself.

Things weren’t perfect. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t even great, if he was honest. But he was home and he was going to make the most of this weekend, even if that meant hiding in the garages and watching from the sidelines.

It was also his and Max’s first public appearance as a mated couple. People had suspected for years, rumours had flown, but they’d kept it to themselves because they didn’t want the media circus to be about their relationship instead of their racing.

Now, Daniel supposes, he’s no different than any of the WAGs who will be here this weekend.

Daniel stands on the sidelines of the Fan Zone stage and watches Max and Checo address the crowd, watches as the fans go crazy, peeks out to see a few giant cut-outs of his own head bouncing in the crowd. It makes something warm bloom in his chest to know that even though he’s not racing, the fans are still thinking about him. Missing him.

One of the fan questions is about the month-long break between now and Baku and what Max and Checo will do with all that time between races.

“I will be spending some time in Perth,” Max says and Daniel grins when the crowd breaks out in a cheering roar, clearly picking up what Max is putting down. When Max looks toward the side stage where Daniel is stood the crowd roars louder now that they’ve spotted him there. “With Daniel, of course,” Max finishes, the cheek of him.

Daniel laughs – really laughs – and peeks his head out to give a wave.

The crowd go insane, Max laughs, and Daniel feels – for a moment – like he’s okay.

#always taking requests #but i make no promises to fulfill them lmao #anyway i dont liek this much but i tried #depressed omega daniel

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onboardsorasora · 1 year ago

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I see that you are a dewis connaisseur as well, so I was wondering if you have any fic suggestions or any authors that write about Dewis that you know of? I feel like a drug addict in desperate need of a fix.

Thank you in advance☺️

Hiii Anonstie! So, I literally just went straight to my bookmarks lmao. I will admit, that I haven't read any new Dewis lately, and thats on me- I've been distracted with writing lol. BUT!!! Here's a lovely list, I truly hope I linked everything correctly. I know dr3writings put out something recently as well, that I plan to check out- I already know its good Hopefully the formatting doesnt get messed up, but I mainly hope I've provided something you haven't read as yet! <3

Aloha - The Art of Saying Hello and Goodbye by WaitingtoBloom Words: 16,210 Daniel travels to Hawaii in an attempt to shut out the world and find his bearings after a tumultuous start to the season, but Formula 1 ends up finding him anyway in the form of one Sir Lewis Hamilton.

Active Love by f1errari Words: 1,638 Daniel grins, one eye closes, he forgot how sharp the sun is at home but he looks at Lewis anyways who smiles softly and tips Daniel’s cap down just a little, Daniel scrunches his nose up in response but opens his eyes ‘well, let’s hope it goes better then last time huh’ - (aka Daniel thinks about Lewis a lot and how good they are together before the 2022 Australian gp)

wrapped in gold by Anonymous Words: 1,162 Daniel had gotten the address from the photographer he’d messaged on Instagram. She’d said it’s beautiful and Lewis trusts her judgment, he’s not all that familiar with the area in the summer anyway.

Love, In All the Hard Places to Reach by IICarpeDiemII for toastandvegemite (Restricted) Words: 15,270 Daniel’s been living on his own for almost a decade. He’s forgotten how it is to live with other people. He’s forgotten how hard it is to hide things from someone you’re sharing the same bed with.

it's not a crime to steal from a thief by Anonymous Words: 1,228 Max is still celebrating when Lewis posts the photo with the caption: You win some, you lose some. Today, I won.

one bright moment by pronoe for Gertika (Restricted) Words: 1,345

Daniel wins the race, Lewis wins the championship, they kiss in parc fermé.

loved you for years by Anonymous

Words: 1,665

“Now that you’re back at Red Bull, will we see a mating announcement between you and Max? You two have always been so close.”

And in that moment Daniel knows, his mate at home isn't going to be thrilled with that question.

I've had the time of my life (and I owe it all to you) by Danubius

Words: 2,147 Daniel realized he shared his bathroom's wall with his negihbor after a long shift at work, when he heard the singing from the other side, and singing back seemed like a good idea.

He didn't think things would escalade so quickly from there.

let's just dance by dr3writings

Words: 1,374 “You done with your work?” he mumbles, leaning further into the solid body behind himself and feels a light exhale on his neck that makes him shiver pleasantly.

“Yep, just in time too I saw,” Daniel whispers, the song still playing on repeat in the background and his fingers have started tapping out the beat lightly against Lewis’ stomach without a conscious thought.

can't stand the heat by @toastandvegemite (Restricted)

Words: 2,839

Lewis is most irresistible Alpha on the grid. Daniel is the most untameable Omega.

It should be a match made in heaven, but for some reason Lewis is determined to resist Daniel’s charms.

#dewis #dewis writing #dan/lewis #anonymous #answered #fic recs #fic rec

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brasiliangp · 9 months ago

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'drive to survive' season 6: a cheat sheet for people like me, who only care about like 3 ppl of the grid <3

Episode 1: Money Talks

Team: Aston Martin

0 - 2:00; shows some of the drivers (Lando, Lance, George, Max, Alex, Esteban) and Gunther on their winter breaks

2:41; Lawrence going all 007 villain mood

6:30; Aston Martin car launch

10:32; Lance gets injured

12:30 - 19:30; drivers in Bahrain (photoshoot, talk about Mercedes and Ferrari)

20:15; Lance is back

23: 20 - race (Bahrain GP) (does focus on Mercedes/Lewis/Toto a bit)

30:20 - Fred and Ferrari

33 - onwards; Aston Martin's podium, reactions from Mercedes and Ferrari, moments between Lawrence and Lance

Episode 2: Fall from Grace

Team: Alpha Tauri / Red Bull

Christian Horner TW throughout!!!!!

1:40 - start talking about Daniel

4: 35 - Red Bull car launch

also Daniel shows up for the first time

6:37 - Nyck is introduced

8:05 - some Red Bull tory nonsense with a charity shooting thing

10:33 - Jeddah

12:49 - introduction to the change in leadership at AT

14:34 - 17:51; race footage

18 - Nyck showing his Monaco apartment

backstory into Nyck and him chatting with a friend till 20:20

22:10 - Monaco GP

23:50 - they bring out the traumatized by rbr support group (Gasly and Albon) to talk about Nyck

25:00 - Daniel and Horner discuss plans for the future

27:30 - 32:30; race footage

32:55 - Horner calls Daniel

33 - Silverstone test

38:40 - Daniel back in F1

39:30 - Back to Nyck

Episode 3: Under Pressure

Team: McLaren

2:18 - McLaren car launch

4:24 - Oscar introduction

7:30 - 9:17; race footage (Bahrain)

11:40 - talks about Lando possibly switching teams (lasts literally the whole episode)

11:56 - 12:27; Horner TW

12:30 - Miami GP

16:49 - 19:16; Zac and Lando go golfing

20:40 - 23:58; race footage (Miami)

25:00 - 26:25; Lando and George flying together

26:25 - 27:30; Lando's life story

35:20 - Silverstone footage

Episode 4: The Last Chapter

Teams: Haas / Williams

0 - 4:00; Gunther

4:00 - Introduction to Nico/Kevin

5:13 - addressing the drama between then

7:08 - Williams

7:33 - James introduction

13:26 - 16:30; race footage (Jeddah)

17:57 - 19:50; Gunther

19:50 - 20:30; James

20:30 - 21:20; Alex working out

21:30 - Alex and James talking

24:30 - 29:50; race footage (Montreal)

29:57 - Lily!

39:40 - 41; race footage (Mexico)

43:10 - 45; Mattia Binotto TW

Episode 5: Civil War

Team: Alpine

2:10 - 5:40; Pierre in Cannes

8:20; Pierre and Esteban at the Alpine HQ

11:50 - 14:10; Pierre and Esteban story (where the drama started)

14:20 - 15:40; Pierre and Esteban go karting

17:30 - 23; race footage (Australia)

25:05 - 26:20; Esteban family house/working out

27: TP drama

28:30 - 37; Monaco GP

Episode 6: Lead of Faith

Team: Mercedes

0:15 - 3:40; George and Lewis shooting the road test video

8:25 - 9:05; Lewis talks about issues with the car

9:20 - 14:30; very sweet moment with the Wolffs where Jack goes karting

17 - 19; Lewis contract talks

19:00 - 19:12; "Lewis and I agreed to be open and honest with each other" Toto

19:25 - 19:35; "if Lewis were to leave it would almost look like he lost faith in the team" George

20:45 - 25; race footage (Barcelona)

26:30 - 27; Barcelona podium

28:30 - 30; Toto and Lewis talk

31:40 - Lewis' extension with Mercedes is announced

32:10 - "There just never feels like a time where I won't be a Mercedes driver" Lewis

Episode 7: C'est La Vie

Team: Alpine

0:30 - 0:40; Ocon and Ryan Reynolds

3:15 - 5; Pierre at a basketball game

5 - 6; Ocon in St. Tropez

7:50 - Horner TW but this one was funny lmfao

8:10 - 13:10; race footage (Silverstone)

15:40 - 17:00; race footage (Hungary)

20:40 - Omar is fired

22:56 - 23; Horner TW

26: Bruno sits Pierre and Esteban down for a chat

29:35 - 34:37; race footage (Zandvoort)

34:40 - 35:50; Pierre's podium

Episode 8: Forza Ferrari

Team: guess?

0 - 5:00; introduction to Fred and Ferrari

10:10 - 10:50; Carlos and his mom

15:40 - 22:30; race footage (Monza)

23:59 - 25:33; Fred, Carlos and Charles having lunch at Maranello

31:30 - 40; race footage (Singapore)

Episode 9: Three's a Crowd

Team: Alpha Tauri

0 - 2:40; Daniel

2:49 - 3:26; Alex and Logan talk about Daniel coming back

8:10 - 10:10 - Zandvoort (Daniel crashes)

12 - 14:25; Liam is introduced

17:45 - 20:40; quali in Singapore

25:33 - 30; race footage (Singapore)

31:50 - 32:56; Daniel working out

34:20 - 37; race footage (Suzuka)

37:50 - 38; Horner tells Liam Yuki and Daniel will be driving for AT next season

42:35 - 45:30; race footage (Mexico)

Episode 10: Red or Black

Teams: Mercedes x Ferrari; Aston Martin x McLaren

0 - 1:10; Charles in the Alps

1:10 - 1:30; Carlos working out

2:24 - 2:57; Red Bull and AT playing in the desert

4:40 - 5; Horner TW

5:30 - 7:30; Vegas opening ceremony

8 - 28 (pretty much); Vegas footage

29:05 - 29:33; Lando and Oscar

32 - 33; McLaren x Aston Martin

36:45 - 41:40; race footage (Abu Dhabi)4

44:32 - 44:34; Fred!

46:29 - 47:29; Red Bull and Horner TW

#i tried #but i did skip around so i might have missed some things #drive to survive #dts #anti rbr

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year ago

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Here's a compilation I made of six different comedians (two per podcast) on three different podcasts saying something about different types of comedy, specially how it's different in Britain and American. Tumblr won't let me embed it even though I compressed it down to be under the max file size, so I'm using a Google Drive. It's just audio, but I made it a video instead of an audio file so I could add text to show what people and podcasts are playing at a given time.

I put those together and then I wrote down a bunch of thoughts about it, which I think start out somewhat coherent but get less so as I go along. It's a whole bunch of stuff I've been thinking about all shoehorned into one post just because they're all on a vaguely similar topic, like a hastily thrown-together Edinburgh show. The point is that I'm going to listen to Mike Birbiglia's albums. That's... that's the upshot. That's how all this started.

I found the chat with Hari Kondabolu especially fascinating, having heard a few of Hari’s comedy specials and albums, and heard him on The Bugle a lot over a bunch of years (also I saw his Problem with Apu documentary, everyone should watch that, and should know that he says all the time on The Bugle he doesn’t get royalties for it anymore so doesn’t mind how people find it, just watch it).

He’s an interesting presence on The Bugle, an outsider as an American, who was there from the very beginning of their reboot in 2016, so you can kind of watch him figure out what this is in real time. At first he audibly has no fucking idea what he’s signed up for, and as it goes along, you can hear him settle into an area of “Well I still don’t really understand why you’re doing this, but I see what it is now and have found a way to do my thing beside your thing and that’s fine.” That’s partly a reaction to Andy Zaltzman, because no one really knows what to do with Andy Zaltzman unless they’ve had a long time to get used to it (except for John Oliver, I’m pretty sure they just met at a student comedy gig in about 1999 and instantly said “Oh look, my comedy soulmate”). But some of it is also a reaction to the British stuff. The references to British politics and history that you get on a topical and political comedy show, and the way they approach all their material. I like hearing Hari Kondabolu on there, an outsider perspective who can pick it apart a bit.

So I found his Comedian’s Comedian podcast interview interesting – honestly the whole thing is worth a listen, even if you don’t really know Hari Kondabolu’s work, as a good analysis of political comedy and the mechanics of good comedy bits and British vs. American comedy and the comedy industry more generally. But for this post, my interest is the British vs. American stuff.

I cut out a big chunk of their Brit vs. American discussion on that episode, and put it in the video above. I debated how long to make the clip, to create what was meant to be a compilation of people discussing British vs. American comedy, and ended up leaving in some stuff that’s a bit off topic where they fawn over Daniel Kitson. I realize comedians fawning over Daniel Kitson is hardly such a rare and exciting event that it needs to be preserved, but I particularly enjoyed hearing Stuart Goldsmith and Hari Kondabolu do it, so I left it in when cutting out the clip. I’ve heard Hari bring up on a couple of other occasions, as well, that he’s wildly impressed and amazed by the Hotmail address.

Anyway though, the Kitson stuff aside, the clip from the Comedian’s Comedian podcast is mostly Hari Kondabolu and Stuart Goldsmith discussing how the Edinburgh Fringe Festival shapes British comedians’ careers into something different from what they are in America. They have to write a new hour every year, because there will be reviewers there who saw last year’s hour and will catch them out if they try to recycle material. Also because it’s a smaller country, so they can only tour one show in so many places before everyone’s heard it and they have to do a new thing. Hari Kondabolu is impressed with the work ethic but mildly horrified by the whole thing, and can point out some aspects of the system that people who are used to it just wouldn’t notice because they seem normal.

I think there are two major factors that mark out the Edinburgh-influenced British model of comedy careering building as being different from, say, American stuff: the new hour every year and the way each hour has to be themed and coherent and structured and preferably built around some story or message. In Hari Kondabolu’s podcast episode he mainly talked about the new hour every year thing, but also briefly touched on the concept of themes. Stuart Goldsmith mentioned that tides seemed to be changing, as it used to be that themes would make you different and interesting, but not anymore, so they’ll become less common soon. I’ve just spent three weeks listening to 38 shows performed at Edinburgh 2023, and I can say, I’m pretty sure that prediction was inaccurate. Themes and throughlines abound, and I’m happy about that. I like a good theme.

I do think there are pros and cons to it, though, and Hari Kondabolu points out some significant cons. If you look at the list of shows by any British comedy who's been doing Edinburgh for a long time, there are going to be some filler years. Some years when they did a show just because it's a new year and Edinburgh is up there so they'd better write a show, even if they don't have much to say. Hari is right to say that British comedians work fucking hard to turn over a new hour every year, but that doesn't mean the quality will always be top-notch.

Also, themes can be limiting. I'm sure there are some themed shows out there that would be better if they were just freestyle, if the comedian let themselves say all their best stuff, rather than cutting good material due to not being on theme. Or adding weaker material because it is on theme.

So that’s an American going on a British person’s podcast to tell them how fucked up the British comedy system is. I’ve made this compilation to compare it to a British person going on an American’s podcast, in which the American thinks the British system is great and in fact what he wants to do as well. Nish Kumar on Mike Birbiglia’s podcast, from just a couple of years ago. It’s an interesting contrast. A couple of people have told me before that Mike Birbiglia is like a British comedian but in the form of an American person. Including @my-excellent-bicycle, who told me ages ago that he's very good, and I said I'd watch him, and then I didn't, so sorry about that. Absolutely no offence to any of the people who'd already told me about him, but I have to admit, when the "Mike Birbiglia is so cool, he's like an American who does British comedy" endorsement comes from Nish Kumar, that does mean a little extra. Enough so I have now downloaded Mike Birbiglia's stuff, will listen to it next.

I can't really speak to the accuracy of what Nish Kumar said in that clip, since I haven't yet actually heard Mike Birbiglia’s shows. But I see what Nish means. He means shows that are built around one topic and/or narrative and/or theme and/or message, and stay on that, or at least around it and vaguely adjacent to it, for an hour.

Later in the 2021 podcast episode from which I took that Kumar/Birbiglia clip, Nish mentioned that actually, even though this is a generally British thing to do, he personally doesn’t tend to do it much, and he’d like to do it more. That was true, as of then. I’ve heard Nish’s 2014 (might have been originally his 2013 show, actually, whichever one got recorded for the Soho Live thing on Amazon Prime), 2016, and 2019 shows, and none of them were all that structured. They were coherent, particularly the latter two, which stayed on the topic of politics. Even that earlier one had some throughlines and underlying bits that kept coming back. But he didn’t do a really carefully constructed narrative show until 2022, the one that just had a video come out, Your Power Your Control.

So I found it interesting to hear Nish Kumar in 2021, just before he wrote Your Power Your Control, say he’d like to do more narrative-type stuff. And then the next year, he did it. Good for him. Nish Kumar just did a new episode of the Comedian’s Comedian podcast as well – it was recorded very recently, to go with the release of his latest special – and in that one, he mentioned that he was pleased with the way he managed to Birbiglia-fy this show in a way he hadn’t done with previous ones, making it a structured narrative the way Mike Birbiglia does. But actually, the way most British comedians do, and apparently this one American guy that it’s time for me to check out.

Then I added a clip of David O’Doherty from a very recent podcast, in which he talks about getting backlash from Americans for not being what they expect, which is just a bunch of unconnected jokes. I added that clip to the conversation because he brings up Hannah Gadsby and Nannette, and I think that’s an interesting point.

Hannah Gadsby got a huge amount of backlash for Nannette, and most of it was misogynistic. Not all of it, I guess. I guess it’s technically possible for someone to just really not like Hannah Gadsby’s style of humour, and they hated Nannette for perfectly legitimate reasons. Just like probably, some of those people on those cesspits of toxicity that were those Josie Long-related comedy message board threads in 2007, just legitimately did not share her sense of humour. Maybe one or two of them. But mainly, it’s the misogyny.

However, DO’D makes an interesting point about Hannah Gadsby’s show. Most “Edinburgh hour”-style shows do not get as massively world famous as Nannette did. So they got hit with misogynistic backlash, but it was fueled by the fact that it was being seen by a lot of Americans who are not used to that type of comedy, and just don’t understand. They thought Hannah was taking the respectable genre of doing 50 punchlines in 20 minutes, and making a mockery of it. Just because it was the first time they’d seen a comedy show with some sad bits. They thought Hannah Gadsby was doing comedy wrong.

So many people – mostly American people – who saw Nannette didn’t realize that ending a show with 10-15 minutes of sad bits is so commonplace in certain comedy circles that it’s also common to make fun of it. You hear comedians all the time, make jokes about the standard hour that’s funny for a while and then has a sad bit. There’s even a term for it: dead dad show. A dead dad show isn’t just a show about a dead dad. It’s any show that’s funny for a while but also poignant and touching and sentimental and has sad bits at the end and wants to make you cry as well as laugh. People joke about it because it’s been done a lot, it’s been done in some hack ways and some bad ways, it’s also been done in some brilliant ways, it runs the gauntlet like anything else.

It’s fine for people to say they’re not into that kind of thing. But Nannette got so big that people who’d never heard of that genre started seeing it, and they had no idea what they were seeing. So that’s how they ended up saying Hannah is not a comedian, this isn’t comedy, Hannah tricked a comedy-expecting audience into seeing a one-woman show! How dare you bring trauma into a comedy show? As though comedians talking about trauma aren’t a dime a dozen in Britain and Australia.

And I think that has pros and cons too. I like a show that works some serious stuff in, that has some deep personal or political message. But also, sometimes, people have a point when they say a comedy show has focused so much on the personal or political messages/trauma dumping that it forgot to also be funny (not with Nanette, though, people forget that Nanette had lots of good jokes in the first 45 minutes, it was a funny show, people just watch clips that have been cut from the last little bit and are then say this so-called comedy show isn't funny). And I guess it's up to each individual comedy audience member how much humour they'll allow a show to sacrifice for other stuff before they get sick of it. How much sad stuff or angry stuff or introspective stuff or educational stuff or heartwarming stuff or philosophical stuff or narrative stuff a show can have at the expense of funny stuff, before they'll say, "Okay, I need more comedy than this in my comedy shows." But I think it's a pretty shallow view of what comedy can be if you're not okay with a show that has any of that other stuff.

I am conflating Britain/Ireland and Australia/NZ quite a bit in this post, and that’s because I think when it comes to this sort of thing, they’re very similar. I’m also conflating Canada and the US, because I think they’re similar, in that neither of have this tradition that I’m pretty sure developed at Edinburgh and MICF. And I’m not talking about any other countries because as far as my comedy knowledge goes, those may as well be the only ones that exist (sorry Anuvab Pal and Aditi Mittal, I do know a couple from India too, but as far as I can tell, the special type of comedy they do in India is “say some stuff and hope you don’t get arrested for it”).

There is an obvious reason for that: Australia has a festival that’s similar to Edinburgh. British and Irish (and Irish, sorry for having forgotten to add “and Irish” in the earlier bits of this post, I just saw Dara O’Briain’s newest special – called So Where Were We, just released by the BBC, by the way, I recommend it – and it’s chock full of trauma, proving the Irish can do dead dad/never met my dad shows with the best of them) comedians develop their careers around Edinburgh, and Australian/NZ comedians develop their careers around the Melbourne Comedy Festival. North America doesn’t have anything like that.

Obviously North America has yearly festivals too, but not ones that are so big that every single comedian in the area wraps their whole career around it. I think the only one big enough to do that around here would be Just For Laughs, but Just For Laughs isn’t nearly the same thing, since people have to audition for it. You can’t just set up a show and show up. People can’t start writing a show in September with the assumption that they’ll take it to JFL next summer, because unless they’re already very famous, they can’t be sure they’ll be accepted into JFL’s lineup.

I found the David O’Doherty clip interesting, as he lists storytelling shows as just one of the many things that are, in fact, comedy, but get called “this isn’t comedy” by mostly Americans on the internet. But also, it’s not like all Americans just do 50 punchlines in 20 minutes and that’s it. They do lots of stuff! They have alternative comedy there, and at this point I’m getting out of my depth, because I have a sort of idea in my head of what American alternative comedy means – the vague idea involves things like Eugene Mirman and Fred Armisen and Kristen Schaal and improv shows in New York – but I don’t really know what I’m talking about. This post would be better if I knew what I was talking about more.

I guess the basic rule I’m working with is: British/Irish/Aussie/NZ do a new hour every year and it has themes and throughlines and narratives and coherent structure and they workshop it all year and then take it to Edinburgh and then scrap all that material and do a new one. And American comedians just write one joke(/bit/funny story, not just the classic type of one-liner “joke”) at a time, and at any given time are performing the combination of their best crop of jokes, and whenever they write a new joke it replaces the worst one in their set, so they evolve that way. I’m trying to understand why that difference exists, and part of the problem with my efforts to understand that is I don’t really know what I’m talking about, and the other part of the problem is that stating the difference that way is a massive oversimplification. It’s difficult to understand why a phenomenon exists if that phenomenon doesn’t really exist in nearly as simple a way as I’ve stated it here.

I know there are exceptions to that rule I just stated, even though I’ve not listened to any Mike Birbiglia yet. For a really famous example, I watched John Mulaney’s new show Baby J earlier this year (fuck him for the Dave Chapelle thing, the divorce and addiction are his own business and people who don’t know him shouldn’t have tried to get involved in his personal life, but fuck him for the Dave Chapelle thing, I didn’t watch his new show in any way that could translate to view count/profit for him – but I did love all his previous shows and was curious about what’s in the new one so I watched it), and that was pretty much all around one story. Even Hari Kondabolu’s new-ish special has a little bit of a theme, about being political while having a kid. And there are plenty of others, so it’s not like this stuff doesn’t happen in America. And there are plenty of British comedians who just do one joke at a time.

I don’t know – I’m not completely making this dichotomy up, right? That’s why I made that compilation in the video at the top of this post. Other people talking about that thing I’m talking about and proving that it is somewhat based in reality. It would help if I knew more about American comedy. You can’t really compare British and American comedy unless you know quite a bit about both, and I don’t know nearly enough about American to really understand this.

That’s why I asked my brother about it the other night, because he’s been doing comedy in Canada for a long time and most of the comedy he watches/likes is American. I asked him if he knows what I mean when I talk about this dichotomy, and why it may or may not exist. And he didn’t really know what I’m talking about, which means 1) the difference is so significant that someone who mainly follows North American comedy doesn’t even know about the dead dad Edinburgh show so can’t compare anything to it, and/or 2) I didn’t explain it very well. Because we had a whole conversation where at some point I realized we were talking past each other. He was using the word “alt” a lot, and it meant one thing to him and a different thing to me, so neither of us really knew what the other was talking about.

That in itself is interesting to me, because it shows that comedy is too big to really make these generalizations. You can’t talk about “alt comedy” as a coherent thing, because it means wildly different things in wildly different places. You can’t talk about “British comedy” or “American comedy” because Britain and America both have a lot of people in them who all do wildly different things.

At some point in my conversation with my brother, I said that when I say storytelling comedy I mean “like the thing Mike Birbiglia does”, and he has seen some Mike Birbiglia but says he doesn’t think what he does is particularly different from what most American comedians do, and I couldn’t refute that because I haven’t actually heard Mike Birbiglia yet. All I could say on that was… well one time I heard Nish Kumar say Birbiglia is like a British comedian, so that’s probably true, right?

So I really don’t know what I’m talking about well enough to understand this, or even explain it. Then again, my brother told me that he thinks British comedians write regular jokes in a way that American comedians don’t, and I said no, I think of the opposite as being true, and when I asked him for examples of why he thinks British comedians are like that, he said Jimmy Carr and Ricky Gervais. So he may not know enough about British comedy to know what he’s talking about. Is it possible that no one knows what they’re talking about? That’s kind of interesting to me too, I assume anyone who actually does comedy must know everything about it. I mean, I try really hard to know about comedy, but I don’t know nearly enough about it to properly do it. So the people who do do it know way more than I do and understand everything. But my brother’s been doing it 13 years, had traveled to perform in the States and nearby cities somewhat often, never made enough money from it to quit his day job but has made quite a lot of money from it over the years, and he may also not know what he’s talking about.

At some point we got talking about recorded comedy, and he said when he listens to audio-only comedy, and then watches a video of those people, he’s often surprised because he was picturing someone young and hot but it turns out to be a balding man in his fifties. I said that often, I can hear hours and hours of audio-only comedy by someone, and have an image of them in my head, and then see a picture of them, and I’m always surprised by how different the picture looks. Because I’m always picturing a person in their forties or fifties, maybe a bit overweight, slightly balding if it’s a cis man, and then I’m often surprised to learn they’re actually around my age or younger (many exceptions there too, Kitson is currently mid-40s and balding but I tend to picture him the way he looked in 2003, though I’m sort of updating my mental image of him now). Which I’m pretty sure says something about the difference between the comedy I watch and the comedy my brother watches, that we have such different images in our head of the “default comedian”, what we picture when we don’t know how someone really looks.

This may or may not be related to the fact that my brother recently started putting clips of his own comedy on Tik-Tok, and has things to say about how the engagement is going that make me despair at the soullessness of humanity. So what does he know? At some point I worked out that when he talks about writing jokes in a classic way, he doesn’t just mean one-liners, he means anyone who actually writes their material instead of just doing crowd work and “comedian destroys heckler” videos for social media. Apparently doing anything besides that is old school now, and he thinks British comedians do more old school stuff than American comedians, and again, I despair at the soullessness of humanity. But to be fair to America, I’m sure there are plenty of soulless British comedians on Tik-Tok too.

That’s part of it though, isn’t it? That my brother thinks of Tik-Tok-type comedy as American and British comedy as stuff that doesn’t do that. You can’t cut out a clip of a good dead dad show and put those 90 seconds on social media. I mean, you could, and I guess some people do, but that’ll ruin it. The British Edinburgh hours need their context, the good ones aren’t nearly as good without it. But maybe American comedy can be clipped more easily, since it’s not written to all flow together. But also, British comedians cut bits of their show out all the time to shoehorn into their twenty seconds of screentime on a panel show. Stewart Lee had a whole thing about that like 15 years ago, how no comedian can be that funny if their set can be cut up for a panel show. But, you know, we can’t all be Stewart Lee (though it’s my understanding that many people have tried). I’m pretty sure this is the sort of thing Stewart Lee knows about, and has strong opinions about. That was my mistake, asking the wrong comedian. I asked my brother, I should have been asking Stewart Lee.

So I still don't have an answer to who invented the dead dad show. I mean, I think I might know that one, Russell Kane may have invented the shows about dead dads specifically. But I don't know how the storytelling comedy with sad bits and themes started, or why it took off in Britain/Australia and not in North America, or if it's even true to say that happened. I feel like Kitson invented it, because it feels a bit like Kitson invented everything, but I know he didn't. I feel like Stewart Lee knows who invented it - I don't feel like he invented it, because he's constantly talking about the alt-comedy godfathers (gendered term there, but they were mostly fathers and not mothers at that time, that is an issue) from the 70s and 80s on whose shoulders he stands. And I don't really know anything about those people, so that doesn't help.

There's a guy named Oliver Double and I think he knows. I just got paid again, my bank account is looking a bit more stable than it did a little while ago, I think I'm going to buy his books. I'm also going to listen to Mike Birbiglia, I'll let you all know if he knows anything. Maybe most people don't know anything. Maybe everything has a smaller cause than I assume and we'd all be living in a radically different comedy world if Russell Kane's dad were still alive. Maybe it's fine to think the British comedy style is to write classic jokes because Jimmy Carr tours arenas and therefore gets to be their representative. Maybe the storytelling/pure joke telling comedy dichotomy doesn't even matter anymore, it's all about the dichotomy between improvised stuff on Tik-Tok and anyone who actually writes material now. Maybe improv just means crowd work now? But I hope not.

...This was going to be a post about how Hari Kondabolu thinks British comedians should scrap the concept of "recycling material" being bad, and just tell their best jokes even if they don't all fit a theme. Then I had a conversation with my brother the confused me and now I don't know. Does anyone else know anything that they want to share?

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sohoharlem · 3 years ago

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Below is Part 1 of some comments from readers on my take on S&A that i’m able to publicly address/answer/post. *In some of the asks I received, there were some sensitive things said which might be triggering for some people. While I have a feeling most of everyone is on the same page, I did redact some words/comments/asks entirely (especially since I’m still not touching one specific topic right now), but I can guarantee based off the response I get that many agree. But it shouldn't change the meaning of your comment.

Thank you so much. You are definitely not alone. I think a majority of the people out there are on the same page.

I can understand that sometimes it's hard to put what you are thinking into the exact words, and I also feel that because of the condition of his fandom right now, it can be a bit intimidating. I've observed that, and experienced it first hand. But there comes a point where I needed to put my fear aside and address something serious. You don't know how people will react to you saying something that might seem scary. Thank you so much, I'm really happy I was able to convey that for you. Brazil: Ellie Ross and Sebastian Stan's possible break up in Brazil.

Yes. I do believe it's very toxic, yes.

In regards to his acting, his type of acting, and how he approaches his work, it’s not uncommon or unknown that usually for drastic roles, an actor will try to approach their role they are playing as best as they can in a, how do I say, very real way? They will immerse themselves into that role immensely. It can be dangerous, but sometimes actors are also able to keep that part of themselves distanced. But there is a danger to acting some times and I do think it’s something that needs to be acknowledged more and people need to STOP ignoring. Obviously it’s not this drastic, but what comes to mind is Tom Hanks for Cast Away. He went through major physical changes for that role. Daniel Day Lewis the king of Method acting is another one that’s gone as far as not showering for weeks. Kate Winslet took months to recover after filming The Reader. An unfortunate one is Heath Ledger. His two more recent roles before Dark Knight were flops. He wanted to do well in the Joker’s role. He locked himself in a hotel room for a month to play the Joker. Don’t even get me started on the changes Brittany Murphy went through in Hollywood, not just for roles but as herself as a person in the business, to make herself feel more accepted because she felt she needed to change physically and mentally. Then the roles she started to pick up were very different than what she used to do and much darker over time. They were also all flops. Some people tried to help her but a lot of the public was also very oblivious to her suffering. I suggest people also watch that documentary on HBO max...Hollywood can be a very dark place. When people prepare for roles sometimes, there can be different outcomes, ya know?

Obviously, I cannot speak on his behalf in regards to P&T, most of what I stated above were things the actors have admitted or were public stated. He has obviously not spoken about his role to play Tommy. I also think more people should be concerned instead of angry. I don’t think that because he’s with Ale that he’s doing better, I think it makes him think he is. I don’t think she was/is a cure. That’s why I think this place he is in is dangerous.

This actually touches base the part in my posts where I said I find their behavior together vs apart odd. If anything I think it’s a worst sign. About him getting better sooner by doing that, I think it’s going to get worst before it gets better, and I don’t think it’ll be over months span. Possibly much longer. Maybe. I hope I’m wrong.

*this response is more for the person who asked since they know what is blocked out. didn’t want to leave this important point out.*

I also think this plays a key part. Yes.

- SH

#Sebastian Stan #alejandra onieva

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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years ago

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Hot Take: The Life Is Strange fandom as a whole imo accepts the bare minimum for lgbtq representation as well as poc representation, I’m not saying that Max and Chloe’s relationship should’ve been more obvious but I feel it comes off more as a really close friendship rather than 2 girls into each other. Which they have their moments, the moments in the pool, some of their talks and everything, but I wish we got more. I don’t know I wish we could’ve confessed to Chloe that we liked her or that you can try to romance her towards the end and everything and that you can still kiss Chloe or hold hands with her in the Sacrifice Bay ending. I may come off as nitpicky and ungrateful but as someone who wants more open lgbtq relationships in gaming and just to have these more open relationships in gaming in which we get actual confirmations from these characters and or are allowed to lgbtq with little to no limits. I am also a bisexual woman who felt there was more to be desired with Max exploring her bisexuality and or the fact she may like women, I feel that as much as Chloe was explored their relationship growing and expanding into something much deeper and more intimate was not shown enough. For example, I am gonna use Rue and Jules from Euphoria and imo they have a great wlw relationship that works well seeing how imo Life Is Strange has always been about finding your place in a world that may seem strange and cruel at times and being often a teenager or someone who is growing with their relationships. I feel that a kiss or 2 should’ve been an option and imo I feel that they were imo too chicken to do so and Rue and Jules relationship imo is a good example of good wlw relationships that show how there clinging to being young, to wanting to be together even after highschool but nothing lasts forever and just deeply caring about each other despite the problems they endure with each other and on their own. I really imo wanted more from Life Is Strange in terms of poc and lgbtq representation which imo they barely show and imo they have all these lgbtq fans but they barely cater to them in their games, they do in the comics and everything but still.

The fact that Chloe and Max never really express romantic feelings for one another or even things like Chloe getting nervous around Max, them actually being able to have a serious kiss and everything. Not everything needs to be on the nose but I really wish that we got more intimate romantic moments with them outside of the pool scene which imo was more about them talking about Rachel. I personally feel that the series explored only Sean and Daniel’s story as poc’s and we do get some in the second game which I appreciate but like we never get poc love interests or poc’s who do play a major role in their games. Sorry if this also comes off as nitpicky and asking for too much. But as a member of the lgbtq community we always accept the bare minimum rather than wanting what cis straight people get, give me more open lgbtq relationships between people that aren’t left as ambiguous. Imo, DontNod prides themselves on ambiguous lgbtq relationships or half-assed ones, they pride themselves on being able to please both straight cis people and lgbtq people. I think it’s good to leave choice for people and it should’ve been a choice, an option to confess your feelings before the world may end, to have Max hold her hand or they embrace and Max tells Chloe she loves her and stuff. Same with Sean as well, I felt for him being mlm they focused a lot on Cassidy and imo his bisexuality was more addressed than Max’s for example but it doesn’t excuse imo how the fandom and the developers in a way treated Finn and Sean. Finn barely got any romantic moments with Sean and at least not as many as Cassidy did and not to mention the fandom undermines his intentions which were never selfish at all and they see him as a terrible person rather than someone who just made a terrible choice and suffers the consequences of them. I hate it’s so easy for Finn to die and everything and I hate that Cassidy is pushed to be the better choice rather than encouraging the player to go for whoever. I wanted more for him imo and for him to explore his bisexuality with Finn and everything more than what we were given. With True Colors coming out all I ask is that we get enough and there is some equal ground between Steph and Ryan (i think that’s his name) but I already feel as though it’s unequal because of the simple fact Steph is getting DLC and he’s not getting anything really. But I am excited for it and honestly I really hope that Ryan won’t get shat on by the fandom or have his existence simply undermined so they can bring Steph up. But then again I also somewhat feel they could’ve made Lucien a poc which not to make it about race but we’ve literally never had a poc love interest in the series and honestly would love 2 poc’s together. But yeah I am excited and I really want to learn more about Ryan and learn more about Alex and the characters in it, I really am hoping and praying for good things.

#true colors #life is strange tc #life is strange true colors #life is strange 2 #life is strange

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

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Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Two

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Profanity, slight sexual themes, description of the beginning of an anxiety attack, Max puts his hands on you for a hot second but then you rip him a new one lmao.

Chapter Summary: The Lord’s have a discussion while Max work’s from home and you meet the other half of D.C’s richest power-couple that you now work for.

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @captainsamwlsn @zeldasayer @readsalot73

Chapters: 1/2

The Lord manor was silent, as it always was. Even when Max and Valerie were home, it was still lifeless.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked into her bedroom, which was larger than most living rooms. The steady click-clack echoed throughout the grandiose household and bounced right back to the source. Nothing else was heard; no laughter, no pitter-patter by the feet of excited pets or even children to see mommy come home. Not even the eagerly awaiting footsteps of her husband to welcome her back, take her bags, and ask her how her day went.

Maxwell was never the type for such idiosyncrasies, and never would be.

Cold, empty, fake.

A dollhouse meant for Barbie and Ken was more authentic.

I guess that made them no more real than the toys themselves.

Well, that is if Barbie and Ken secretly hated each other and slept with other people on the side all throughout their relationship. Valerie didn’t know much about dolls.

She set the plastic bag onto her bed and began unbuttoning her blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the ground before shimmying out of her jeans.

Valerie Lord wearing something that isn’t designer? She picked up the sundress that had first caught her eye, pressing it to her chest and marveling at just how soft it felt. That’ll be the fucking day.

She slid it on with ease, she couldn’t say that for half of her wardrobe.

Dresses were made to hug her figure and accentuate her curves. Constricting, suffocating, so tight she could barely breathe and the flashing of cameras so bright, nothing was there to ground here, nobody was. She couldn’t see it all was too-

Soft. Her fingers ran along the fabric, hips swaying slightly as she watched the long skirt flow with her movements. It hugged her chest like it was made just for her, but it didn’t suffocate her - not a choking grip on her lungs, but a gentle hand on her chest. Her hands drifted down to the pockets, where she slid them in and remembered the grin you had on your face when you told her.

“It’s sort of my signature.” You boasted, chest puffed out like you just won a gold medal. Valerie couldn’t help but notice the shirt you had been wearing, a button up with covered in different colored squares, so tacky and loud she could feel the migraine building just from looking at you.

She also couldn’t help but notice just how little buttons were actually used to close it. A wide expanse of your chest on display, smooth skin practically on show for her before stopping just above your belly button, the curves of your chest peeking through enough for her to wonder if you slipped, would you be completely exposed?

Valerie shook herself free from the thoughts of the ridiculous seamstress, with her ridiculous tattoos and that ridiculous nickname. ‘Stitches,’ give me fucking break. She scoffed, but then turned around to admire the dress from the back. You do good work though…

The idea was set in her mind, and Valerie Lord was as stubborn as they come. There was no turning back. Won’t be too bad, she reasoned with herself. I could count it as my charity work for the month.

Maxwell sat in his office, nursing a glass of scotch while going over a contract sent over to him late that afternoon. He could’ve easily stayed late at work, it wouldn’t be the first time. Valerie wouldn’t have worried, or cared at all really. She slept in a separate bed, in a separate room on the other side of the house.

She wasn’t his reason for coming home early. Christ, she wasn’t the reason he did anything.

The true culprit was his secretary.

Delilah Harris was a pretty young thing who must've thought that sleeping with the big man would get her a better job, better pay, or maybe a side job as his sugar baby. What she wanted exactly he wasn't too sure about, but if he had to deal with the pathetic woman cuddling up to him at his own company as if they were lovers moonlighting a secret affair? Oh, he was going to lose his shit.

So he found himself sitting at the mahogany desk in his office, glasses pushed up on his nose. Finally able to get work done without being distracted by some incompetent bimbo batting her eyes at him.

The door to his office creaked open. He didn’t bother looking up.

Spoke too goddamn soon.

“I've commissioned a seamstress to make me a dress for the gala in September.” Valerie’s voice was always so matter of fact. So condescending, as if her flimsy shrink degree suddenly meant she was smarter than him, the one who actually made money.

“I’ll be meeting with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds positively riveting, dear.” Max drawled, turning a page to read more of the agreements. He was only a quarter through the damn thing and he already knew half of these deals weren’t going to be made unless he was six feet fucking under. Somebody was definitely getting fired tomorrow.

“I’ll be a bit tied up at work. You know, since I actually have a job and all. But you go ahead and make sure to tell the sewing mice I said hello, Cinderelly.”

He heard his wife huff and put her foot down, Max didn't have to see her to know she had her arms crossed and a frown on her painted lips. Like she always did when she didn’t get her way, a petulant child with an endless temper tantrum.

“She’ll be making a suit for you as well, darling.”

The glasses slipped down his nose as his head shot up. “Excuse me? If you didn’t notice I’m a little busy running-” He stopped in his rant to take in the flowing white dress she wore that came all the way down to her shins. “Well that’s a bit too ‘Little House on the Prairie’, don’t you think?”

She uncrossed her arms, hands coming down to the skirt to bunch it around in her fists and swish it side to side. “Well I like it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something just because you don’t like it.”

Max snorted and set his glasses on the table. “Well that much is true, given how much you know I loathe that laughable model, yet you still keep him around.” He feigned thought and looked off in the corner. “What’s his name? Randy?”

“Robert.” She corrected. “And how’s the secretary, still drooling at your feet like the little lap dog she is?”

“At least she gets on my lap.” His eyes roamed her figure in the dress with a hunger she hadn’t seen in God knows how long. “What are you wearing under that?”

Valerie grinned, her hands slowly slid up her legs, dragging the dress along with them. “Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her husband sighed, head falling into his hand but never letting his eyes leave her form. “You know I hate games Valerie.” His tone was even as he spoke but she could see the tension in his shoulders like a steel wire ready to snap.

“Well that’s not true at all.” The dress passed her knees and slid up the silky skin of her thighs. “I know for a fact that you love games.”

Her hands released the skirt, letting it fall back around her legs.

“But only when you win.” She turned on her heel, fabric swishing around her as she did. “Wednesday afternoon, Maxwell, don’t be late!” Valerie slammed his office door shut behind her, leaving her husband alone once more.

Maxwell sighed, long and loud, before he pushed his glasses upright on his face and returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. For the rest of the night he did all he could to push away the phantom image in his mind of his wife’s supple thighs gripped in his hands.

Max looked to the building his driver parked outside of with great disdain.

“Check again.”

The driver, Daniel, sighed and looked through the mirror to meet his employer’s eyes. “I have sir, three times already. This is the address that Mrs.Lord gave to me.”

The shop was tiny, the name “A Stitch In Time.” on a sign above the door. A series of little figurines, mugs, and warrior knic-knacks lined the multiple window sills. It was quaint, homey, and the type of place many feel like a friend rather than a customer.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Max stomped out of the car, shutting the door with so much vigor it shook slightly.

“Wait here for me.”

“Of course sir.”

His first step onto the asphalt, was directly into a puddle of muddy water that splashed back against the end of his trousers. Even through the window he could hear Daniel cough to hide his laughter.

Max peered through the windows, looking for a sight of anybody within the store before grabbing the door using only two fingers and walking inside.

A small bell jingled against the door as his entrance, and a voice called out from the back of the store.

“I’ll be out in one moment!” A woman shouted, Max took the chance to look at the racks of clothing around him, picking up one particularly horrendous skirt with the tips of his pointer and forefinger with a frown.

This was the place that Val chose? Maybe he should sign her up for rehab, because she’s got to be smoking something to think-

“Welcome to a Stitch in- oh shit.”

Max turned his head to see you standing at the back door, mouth slightly agape. He took in your cheap jeans, your gold chain resting against your chest, a large expanse of skin left sinful on display due to the especially gaudy shirt you wore only being buttoned by the button three. Untamed curls framed your face like a halo as you stand shocked by the man before you.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumbled, your eyes raked over his blonde hair all the way to his designer shoes. “That lady was actually for real.”

“That Lady, being my wife I presume?”

Max's voice, though annoyed, was rich and smooth and shook you out of your stupor.

“That she is. She came in on Monday and briefly spoke about..a commission?”

“Yes.” He continued to walk around the store, looking at everything with a sour face, even you. “Why she did I’m not so sure.”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and Max Lord was already proving to be worse than his wife.

“Is this place up to health code?”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and it was confirmed that Max lord was definitely worse than his wife.

He waved a dismissive hand in the air before he stopped browsing judging your store.

“But what baby wants, baby gets.” He drew a hand to his heart in what could only be described as a sarcastic display of fake love.“Happy wife happy life and all that bullshit, right?”

You knew from the get-go that Maxwell Lord the Fourth was a load of shit. The moment you saw his dazzling smile in his commercials you knew that in real life he was probably like every other rich person in the world. Entitled, classist, and so judgmental they’d reject a glass of water in the Sahara if they knew it was tap.

You weren’t sure if it was satisfying or disheartening to know you were right.

Nonetheless, a job is a job and you’d having to be fucking insane to reject a giant payout like the Lord’s would no doubt offer.

But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Timeline?”

Max blinked. Usually people who thank him for the oh so amazing chance to work for him, but you stood your ground. He tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a new inkling of respect.

“Four months.”

“Event?”

“The museum of Natural History is throwing a gala for it’s donors.” He adjusted his cuffs as he spoke to you, only looking at you in brief glances which pissed you off even more. “I’m the top one.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Of course you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how charitable of you.”

The animosity of his glare dissolved into a smirk. “Of course.”

You stuffed your hands into our pockets so he wouldn’t see how tightly they were balled up into fists.

Think of the money, dumbass. You reminded yourself. Stomach the rich people bullshit for a little bit for a huge payout. You've got this.

“I’ll be able to do it, but it may be a time crunch.” His face fell once more.

“This is a job, honey.” He spoke slowly and moved his hands with each word as if you didn't understand what he was saying.

“I expect it to be done to the best of your abilities, whatever pisspoor standard that may be.”

Well, you thought before you marched forward until you were nearly nose to nose with the billionaire. You lasted this long, that’s reward enough.

“Listen here you glorified trust fund baby, I work hard and I work well. But keep in mind I have a multitude of people coming through that door every damn day that I also do work for. So don’t think that just because you and your trophy wife have matching silver spoons wedged up your-”

Max’s left hand lashed out and clamped over your mouth, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your cheeks. If you weren’t so fucking pissed that this mother fucker had the audacity to put his hand on you like that, you may have taken a moment to marvel at just how soft they felt against your skin.

You reared back, blood roaring in your ears before you finally found your voice. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind if you think you can put your hands on me like that and not expect me to shove my foot up your-”

While you yelled, Max fished a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to you with a condescending smile. “Will that suffice?”

His manner, so calm and collective while you were about to wring his neck made you pause.

“Will what suffice?”

He sighed, wiggling the slip in the air. “This.”

You set your hands on your hips and stare at him in defiance. “Oh? What is it? A certificate for being the most pompous-”

“Just take a fucking look and you’ll see!”

While at first his sudden booming voice caused you to jump. You couldn’t help it, but your chest swelled with pride at seeing the great Maxwell Lord lose his temper at you. To know that you could get under the skin of the most powerful man in D.C. was almost enough payment in itself. Keyword being almost.

You snatched the paper from his hands, anger melting into shock when you realized it was, in fact, a written check and-

That’s a lot of zeroes.

Max picked some imaginary lint off his shoulder before he took in your gobsmacked form with a satisfied smile. “I trust that will be enough to cover the consultation fee?”

Christ on a cracker, this was just for the consultation fee?

Stand your ground, girl. You reminded yourself. Don’t give him power over you. Give this corporate ken doll a piece of your mind.

You cleared your throat as you tucked the check worth more than your car into your backpocket and crossed your arms. With squared shoulders and your head held high you spoke in the most impassive and neutral tone you could collect from yourself.

“It’ll do.”

Maxwell grinned like he was the cat and you the canary. You wondered what that made his wife. The sadistic pet owner most likely.

“Marvelous.” He all but purred. “Valerie will be in tomorrow to talk design with you. Until we meet again, Stitches.”

With a quick pivot on his heel, your richest client walked out of your store and into the car waiting for him outside.

You felt a bit of your pride return when you watched him step into the dirty puddle of gutter water for a second time that day.

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #Stitches

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hardcorehardigan · 4 years ago

Photo

[Cover: GREG WILLIAMS/AUGUST IMAGES]

Tom Hardy interview and exclusive David Bailey shot

By DANIELLE DE WOLFE

02 September 2015

ShortList meets the British actor who took on the Kray twins and won. Plus an exclusive image of the actor taken by the inimitable David Bailey.

Interviewing Tom Hardy is not like interviewing other film stars. From the moment he arrives – alone, dressed down in hiking trousers and black T-shirt, puffing away on a complex-looking digital e-cigarette – it is immediately clear this is not someone who will be exhibiting any kind of on-promotional-duties polish. He is very, very nice (I get a hug at the end of the interview), but there is unmistakably a wired edginess about him. When we sit down, it starts like this:

Me: I’m going to start with an obvious question, which is… Hardy: Have you seen the film? Me: Yes. I… Hardy: Right, well that’s the first question, then. The second one is, “What did you think?” I tell him I loved it, and why, and he is pleased (“That’s a f*cking result!”). When we move on to me asking him questions, his answers – again, in contrast to other film stars, with whom the game is to get them to veer slightly away from prepared, succinct monologues – are smart and eloquent, but long, drawn-out and enjoyably all over the place, veering off into tangents prompted by thoughts that have clearly just formulated. At the end of our allotted time, we are told to wind it up not once but twice, and even then he is still going, launching into theories about American versus British gangster films and life and humanity and such things (“Sorry man, I can talk for f*cking ever!” he laughs). He will be talking with a seriousness and sincerity (“All the risk was taken by [writer and director] Brian [Helgeland], to be fair…”), then will switch without warning into a piercing, mock-hysterical falsetto (“…letting me PLAY BOTH F*CKING ROLES, MAN!”).

In fact, briefly, while we’re on the subject of the way he speaks…

Tom Hardy’s normal speaking voice is not something we have been privy to onscreen. Since he delivered – whatever your opinion of it – the most imitated cinematic voice of the decade in The Dark Knight Rises, we haven’t come close. That thick Welsh accent in Locke, The Drop’s quiet Brooklyn drawl, the Russian twang in Child 44: we just never hear it. And this might be because it doesn’t exist. It’s five years ago, but if you watch his Jonathan Ross appearance in 2010, where he is very well spoken, he confesses he “sometimes picks up accents, and sometimes I don’t know how I’m going to sound until I start speaking”. If you then watch another video of a feature on GMTV, dated just a month previous, while addressing some young people from troubled backgrounds as part of his charity work with the Prince’s Trust, he is speaking to them in a south London street kid drawl. Today, in the flesh, he is about halfway between these two.

A natural-born chameleon.

Tom Hardy shot by David Bailey for ShortList

BEING DOUBLE

The role we are here to discuss today does not, by Tom Hardy’s own standards at least, involve a huge stretch accent-wise. But it is “the hardest thing that I’ve ever done, technically”. This is because, as mentioned, he plays not one role, but two. In the same film. You will likely have seen the posters for Legend by now, depicting Hardy as both of the Kray twins. Which seems an ambitious, almost foolhardy undertaking.

Hardy agrees. “It is one of them situations,” he says. “You get an actor to play two characters, and immediately, it’s pony. It’s gonna be rubbish. Just: no. It’s a bad idea.”

This particular “bad idea” came to him when he first met writer and director Brian Helgeland (who had previously written screenplays for – no biggie – LA Confidential and Mystic River) for dinner. Brian wanted Hardy to play Reggie (the hetero, alpha male, more-straight-down-the-line Kray). Hardy, though, had read the script, and of course, being Tom Hardy, was drawn to the more complex character. “I was like, ‘Well, I feel Ronnie,’” he says. “So which actor am I gonna give up Ronnie to, if I play Reggie? Errrrrggh…. I can’t have that. ’Cos that’s all the fun there! And Reggie’s so straight! But there was a moment when I could have come away just playing Reggie. We could have gone and found a superlative character actor to play Ronnie, and that would have been the best of everything."

But Helgeland sensed the dissatisfaction in his potential leading man. “I’m sitting there thinking, ‘Oh, he wants to play Ron,’” he tells me. “And the paraphrased version is that by the end of the dinner, I said, ‘I’ll give you Ron if you give me Reg.’”

And so began their quest to turn a risky, potentially disastrous idea into something special (as Brian puts it to me, “the movie’s either gone right or gone wrong before anyone even starts working on it”). Hardy found some comfort in Sam Rockwell’s two-interacting-characters performance in Moon. “I’m a big fan of Sam,” he says.

“And Moon gave me reason to go, ‘I know it’s possible to hustle with self, to create a genuine dialogue with self.’ So then it’s the technical minefield: can you authentically create two characters within a piece at all? So that the audience can look past that and engage in the film? It is what it is: it’s two characters played by the same actor. But I think we got to a point where people forget that and are genuinely watching the story."

This was the ‘why I liked the film’ reasoning I gave to him at the beginning of the interview. And it is a remarkable performance, or pair of performances, or triumph of technical direction. The opening shot features both Tom Hardy Krays sitting in the back of a car, and feels strange, but very quickly, within about 10 or 15 minutes, you settle into it, and forget that it is actually the same guy. This was made possible, in part, by Hardy’s stunt double from Mad Max: a New Zealander named Jacob Tomuri.

“He inherited the hardest job of my career,” Hardy grins. “I put on a pair of glasses, played every scene with Ron, then took ’em off and played Reg. And we went through every scene in the film, recording it on the iPhone. So he’s got every scene of me doing both characters, on his iPhone. He actually played both brothers, had to learn all of the lines. He was paying attention twice as hard to keep up. But he superseded that, and was eventually ad-libbing. There’s a line that ended up in the film, where Ronnie goes, ‘I bent him up like a pretzel, I hurt him really f*cking badly.’” “Where did that come from?!” Hardy shrieks, in that falsetto again. “It came from New Zealand."

The wife’s tale

The other big potential pitfall, as Hardy sees it, was contributing to the ongoing glamorisation and eulogising of two brothers who were, to say the least, not very nice. Somehow they have become almost as iconic a piece of the Sixties puzzle as the Beatles or the Stones. But this was not something that Legend would be setting out to reinforce. “One has to approach these things thinking about the families of the victims who were involved in the other end of it,” he says. “Before you find the heart to like somebody, you’ve gotta look at their track record as best as possible: the people who’ve been hurt, the bodies, the suffering, people who were bullied, who lived in terror, who lost significant parts of their lives in the wake of these two men. There’s a lot of sh*t to wade through. And a lot of people who do not, quite rightly, want to see anything to do with these two men. And if I were them, I wouldn’t want to be involved myself, but there’s also part of me that wants to know. That wants to get under the skin.”

So how do you go about doing that? About humanising, to any extent, such people?

“I think the first port of call is, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do and say whatever you wanted to do and say in the world, regardless of the ramifications and the consequences?’ Ultimately, when I – we – go to the cinema or read a book or we go to escape, we respond to certain types of characters that go, ‘F*ck it: I’m gonna do whatever I want.'

And that’s because we can’t. Because most people would feel a responsibility.”

The answer to how Legend would do this came in the shape of a person who did feel some responsibility, namely Frances Shea: the troubled wife of Reggie, who died in 1967. Played by Emily Browning, she became the centre of the film when Helgeland met Krays associate Chris Lambrianou, who told him that “Frances was the reason we all went to prison”.

“We could have put more of the carnage and the crimes in that film,” says Hardy. “Not to say that it is not there, but what you do see, really, is Reggie, Ronnie and Frances. That’s the dynamic we focused on, that space, which hasn’t been seen before. What was that dynamic like? I don’t know if we came anywhere near the truth, because we weren’t there. But that was the playing field, if you like: Frances Shea, future ahead of her, caught up in something, and no one with her, the suicide. That sits with me in a way as the lead. She’s who we forgot. Ronnie, Reggie, they’ve done their bit. Frances was forgotten. And that kind of all ties it together for me."

FUTURE LEGENDS

The initial praise for Legend has been plentiful, but the mindset of Tom Hardy right now is such that he does not have the time to bask in it. There are other quite ludicrously challenging projects to be pressing ahead with. Coming in autumn is The Revenant, starring his good friend Leonardo DiCaprio and directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu of Birdman fame. Its trailer, as well as doing the not-going-anywhere trend for big beards no harm whatsoever, suggests that it will also match Mad Max in terms of an unrelenting barrage of intensity. Further into the future there’s the Elton John biopic Rocketman (initial challenge? Hardy “can’t sing”) and another foray into comic-book adaptation with 100 Bullets (news of which broke just after our interview).

And right now, as in this week, he’s working on a BBC series called Taboo, which is set in 1813 and stars Hardy as an adventurer who comes back from Africa and builds a shipping empire. The story has been developed by his production company Hardy Son & Baker (formed with his father, Chips) and has been written and directed by Locke/Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight, with Ridley Scott also exec producing.

“We’re sat on something really awesome,” says Hardy. “And it’s trying to piece it together. I’ve never produced anything before, so I basically don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ve got some options and solutions: if you say something is not working, you better come up with at least four other options. But it’s good. It’s just different.”

Another day, another big challenge. Another chance to do something different. It isn’t an easy life being Tom Hardy. But neither will it ever a boring one, and that’s good news for us.

Legend is at cinemas from 9 September

Words: Hamish MacBain. Images: David Bailey, Studio Canal

You can also read the Hardy interview in this week's ShortList Magazine. It'd be a crime to miss it.

Source: https://www.shortlist.com/news/tom-hardy-interview-and-exclusive-david-bailey-shot

#shortlist #bewareoftheman #tomhardydoesntbiteunlesstherolerequiresit #tomhardy #interview #exclusive #davidbailey #shot #danielledewolfe #september2015 #legend #gregwilliamsphotography

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chal-lelerc · 5 years ago

Text

i’m literally going to yeet myself off a cliff because i wrote. an essay. responding to this ask. and tried to configure a cut and it somehow disappeared goddamn this site. will try to write again as word for word as possible because i want to Speak. I Will Not Be Silenced. Fuck. FUCK.

anyway. i wouldn’t say that it’s daniel deciding lando is a threat that would be the main point of contention (because let’s face it, all drivers view their teammates as a threat -- remember, friends, not family), but rather their ability to deal with each other's energies. not in the sense that they’re hyperactive or excitable, but rather their general modes of existence. however, i do trust (whatever value my trust holds lmao) that dan is thoughtful and knows limits, and that he’ll be able to read lando well. regardless, this is a far more palatable take than some of what i’ve been seeing recently so i appreciate it.

this is just me making presumptions and headcanoning the shit out of real life people and and projecting and extrapolating from the Vibes that have been exuded into the virtual atmosphere so take this all with a grain of salt.

that being said, lando seems to be rather sensitive and prone to being overwhelmed; he seems to get distracted rather easily and might come off as a bit rude (see, him not answering people over discord even when they’re directly addressing him). not to be a shitstirrer, but, dare i say it, i feel like some may find it a bit hard to really become friends with him because of this. take charles, for example. i personally feel like he very much has a welcoming, will get along as genuinely as possible with everyone at at least a superficial level kind of personality. i think that so long as the recipient is receptive, he’s an easy friend to make if one is able to handle his energy (in this case, i do mean his hyperactive excitableness). i don’t think lando is one of these people that can do so, nor do i think he’s as open. clearly he’s civil, but it’s not the same thing. the relationship between charles and lando seems significantly different than the one between lando and george or alex or especially max. obviously, there are varying degrees of familiarity that come into play, but regardless, lando approaches charles and most group situations in which charles will be present differently than he would with people like max v or groups with folks like max f and connor and ‘razz’. if i’m being frank, sometimes charles/lando interactions make my anxiety ridden ass nervous sweat i just want everyone to get along and be happy and play eurotruck sim together. i think charles is lando’s “in small doses” type of guy. they streamed essentially solo together the other day and interacted quite beautifully if i do say so myself. i think lando’s turnoff point is when there are lots of overlapping personalities in a single instance that never shut up, and charles only ever compounds this kind of chaos (no hate, just facts).

^^is just to say that Lando + Emotions, in my opinion, appears to be more complex than we tend to make it out to be. (ex: he obviously has his really good days, and we’ve seen that he has his rather bad days as well -- and sometimes quite regularly.) this doesn’t mean that the other drivers are two dimensional, or that we know them personally because of what they’ve allowed us to see of themselves via twitch, but just that lando seems to (willingly or not) show this complicated side of him more often; many sources have also said that he’s surprisingly shy and reserved. i think this is why he and carlos get on so well. everything else about carlos aside, his chaos was delivered via comparatively quiet jokes and intensely staring into lando’s eyes until lando cracked and hyena laughed. with carlos, there was nothing to feel the need to catch up to. now i’m not saying that charles and dan are really at all similar in any way, but i think they present the same situation: people need to be able to keep up with them. (max, bless his heart, was able to with daniel. i feel like he’s a happy medium between charles’ open friendliness and lando’s tendency to be reserved (and dan’s hypermasc vibes), which is why he can deal with daniel’s exuberance as well as coax lando out of his shell of sorts.) i sound stupid condescending when i say this and i promise this isn’t my intention, but i’m confident in dan’s ability to conduct himself like an adult when need be; we’ve seen he actually has a thoughtful brain in the content that red bull has provided us. regardless, there’s an inherent pervasiveness and aggression that comes with the sheer masc jock energy that daniel exudes that i’m not so sure if lando can handle (or maybe he can what do i know).

and all ^^ is just to say that i think lando may end up finding himself floundering in the wake of the force of nature that is Daniel Ricciardo, which is more a point of concern than their “immaturity”. or they could get along peachy and i’m just being an innane fangirl projecting my fantasies and psychoanalyzing and coddling semi-to-full adults who knows and who really cares lets see it play out

#lando norris #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #put it under a cut bc a) long as fuck sue me i like to Talk #b) i don't want to drag #c) some ppl don't want to see drivers get coddled which i get it if this seems like i am #d) some ppl couldn't care less lmfao #can u believe i used to fancy myself a fic writer #truly disgusted by my inability to manipulate the english language eloquently #oh well i hope the message got across anyway #when i tell u i literally rewrote this e n t i r e thing bc i'm That Interested.#i literally rewrote this e n t i r e thing bc i'm That Interested.#ask #anon #anonymous

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mattygraygubler · 5 years ago

Text

our campus: chapter 4 (tom holland fanfic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: none ?????

word count: 2.1k

a/n: so many texts and so much dialogue fuckin kill me also texts are bold

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

“I don’t know what you did to get her to give you a second chance, but I need to warn you.” Ally said. Tom turned to look at her, they had only ever spoken when necessary for theater stuff.

“Warn me?” He asked.

“Y/N can make your life either very, very good or very, very bad. She has most of the professors in this school wrapped around her pinky. And she doesn’t make it obvious, but she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. She can really help you if you let her.”

“Well, thanks.” He said awkwardly and turned back to his stuff.

“One more thing.” Ally said. Tom turned again and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you dare catch feelings.” “Seriously? No need to worry about that.” Ally scoffed.

“I’m serious, Tom. Don’t. She doesn’t need that right now.”

“Yeah, fine, I get it.” He said.

“Alright guys let’s get started.” Gigi said, signaling rehearsal was about to start.

* * *

It was finally Friday, and your phone was blowing up as you walked to the library. Class had gotten out late, so you were walking as fast as possible so you wouldn’t be late to your meeting with Tom.

if Y/N is ok with it its fine with me

i still dont know how i feel about this

pretty pretty please guys i really like this guy and he really wants me to go

You

what are we talking about i was in class

harrison invited em and all of us to the delt party tonight

and i said we shouldnt go bc of what happened

plus isnt tom a delt? wouldnt that be a bit awk?

You

honestly i couldnt care less. after the week ive had im gonna too blacked to even realize where we are

lets take it to a vote

aye

nay

You

im abstaining

the ayes have it! delt BABEEEYYYY

ill have harrison put us all on the list

You

glad we got that sorted ill see u guys at mine at 8

You walked into the library, checking your watch and seeing it was 4:02. You bit your lip. Hopefully he didn’t give you any crap for being late.

You walked quickly into hlab, and you knew you looked like a crazy person. Your bag was falling off your shoulder, you had a coffee in your hand and your water bottle tucked under your arm, and your phone in your other hand.

You scanned the room and saw Tom sitting across from Max, both of them had books out.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly. Max slid over a seat so you could sit across from Tom. “So sorry I’m late, crazy day.”

“No worries dar-” You heard him start to say darling, but stopped himself. “No worries. It’s only 2 minutes after.”

“How long have you been waiting?” You asked.

“Max and I have been hanging out for a while, not a big deal.”

“Speaking of, I’m on alc duty for tonight so I better go.” Max said, did his stupid handshake with Tom, and walked out.

Hlab was almost empty except for some freshman. Most people don’t like studying on a Friday, who could blame them?

“So I got a copy of your lectures from this week. What do you want to start with?”

“I don’t care.”

“Ok, what is currently confusing you the most?” He thought for a second before saying “Astronomy.” You nodded.

“Great, grab your notes and your textbook.” He pulled out a notebook and his laptop, opening the online textbook. You pulled out your laptop and a pen and highlighter.

“May I?” You asked and pulled his notebook to your side. You went through his notes, circling certain things with the pen and highlighting others.

“These are really good, Tom. I like how you put question marks next to things that confused you.” He laughed.

“Do I get a gold star?” He joked. You rolled your eyes.

“So phases of the moon.” You started.

“Wait a second,” he said after you had been talking for a while. “You’re telling me that the moon doesn’t actually, like, change?”

“It’s all shadows.” You replied. He nodded and seemed to finally be getting it.

“The phases will most definitely be on your next lab, which isn’t open note, so make sure you memorize them.” You said. “Let’s move onto stats.” He groaned. “What?” You asked.

“Statistics is so stupid. Letters and numbers shouldn’t go together.” You rolled your eyes.

“Stats is easy, I promise you. This is the first unit, all we’re doing is descriptive statistics and graphing. Let’s start with some vocab.” You said, highlighting certain words in his notes.

Once you could see his brain was about to explode, you moved onto writing.

“There’s not much to talk about, just email me your most recent paper so I can go through it and look for themes we need to discuss.”

‘“Themes?” He asked.

“You know, on going issues that need to be addressed.” He nodded and emailed you his paper, which you would read tomorrow. You heard your phone buzz and took a quick glance.

al dont be upset

then dont give me a reason to get upset

what is it

……….. It’s themed

are you kidding? were not freshmen, i dont wanna go to a stupid themed frat party

its blackout !!!! itll be fun i promise

You turned your phone back down and didn’t realize you had an upset look on your face.

“Everything ok?” He asked.

“Just arguing in the group chat.”

“Do you need to go?” He asked.

“No, no, just arguing about tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“Tonight is not related to political conflict, which is what we should be talking about.” He laughed.

“Do you ever have fun?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m serious, do you ever have fun, or do you just go to sleep surrounded by planners and textbooks.”

“That’s not funny. There’s a lot more about me that you don’t know.”

“Clearly.”

“So we’re starting off with socioeconomic issues over time and the class strugle. Did you read the Marx chapters?”

“Yup. Didn’t understand a word of it.”

“Ok, let’s get into it.” You said and began rambling about the bourgeoisie and the communist manifesto. Politics was your favorite subject, you could talk about it for hours.

You were having a really good discussion with Tom. It was global political conflict, and he was able to connect the themes to both America and England, which made you really pleased.

You were pulled out of your discussion when your phone vibrated.

pickin up panera anyone want anything

“Jeez it’s already past 6:30, I gotta go.” You said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He said.

“No it’s not your fault, I get so into politics I lose track of time.” “I can tell.” He said as you both packed up your stuff.

“Wanna grab some food?” He asked.

“Sorry, can’t,” you said.

“Why, got a hot date?” He joked.

“Maybe,” you said.

“At least let me walk you to wherever you’re going.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well where are you going?”

“Congression Hall?” You replied.

“Wait, you live there?”

“Uhm, yes? Me along with practically every other junior.”

“What floor?”

“8.” You said.

“Should’ve guessed.” He replied as you started walking across the quad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Honors 8. I forgot you were in hc.” He was referring to the eighth and top floor of Congression Hall, which was reserved for the honors college juniors.

“Yeah.” You said simply.

“I’m on six, by the way.” He said. “That’s why I was curious. I’ve never seen you around there.”

“I’m not usually, I only really use it for sleep.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“I assumed you lived in a frat house.” You commented.

“Nah, next year.” He said with a wink. “Speaking of frat houses, there’s kind of this party going on at Delt tonight-”

“I’m aware.” You said, cutting him off.

“Ah, well, if you want I can get you on the list.” You smiled to yourself.

“No need, I’m already on the list.” You said.

“Oh?” He said, clearly embarrassed. “Because of delta nu?”

“Nope.” You said, not offering any other information.

“Well maybe I’ll see you there then.”

“Even if you do see me there, I will be pretending I don’t know you.”

“Why?” He asked, clearly offended. “I run that house.” He joked, trying to play off the embarrassment.

“No offense, but your reputation would not be good for mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well I have a certain reputation in the greek community, and if people see me with you they’ll get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” He asked as you walked in the lobby of your building.

“Well, see, the thing is,” you said, stepping into the elevator. He pressed the button for six and eight. “I have certain standards. If people see me with you, they’ll think I’ve…”

“Wow, you are really uptight, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Certain standards? Jesus christ, you’re not the queen, Y/N. And I don’t have a bad reputation. But god forbid I don’t live up to your ‘standards.’” He said, storming off the elevator without another word, clearly upset. You sighed. Good job, Y/N.

Tom got to his room and threw his stuff on the floor, collapsing on his bed. His head hurt from all the tutoring, and trying to focus on not staring at your lips.

delt juniors

Tom

aight important question guys

Cal

whats up tommy

Tom

do you guys know a girl called Y/N Y/L/N? shes a delta nu

Joey

dan knows her ;)

Cal

fuck, Y/N? what are you doing with her?

Tom

shes tutoring me stop buggin

Max

i know her which u know shes in hc with me

Liam

oh danny DEFINITLY knows her

Will

who doesnt know Y/N? shes a hot commodity

Tom

what do you mean?

Cal

shes like the perfect girl next door, totally hot and so smart which just makes her hotter

Will

doesnt help that shes a huge fuckin flirt AND can hold her alc

Joey

dan is being suspiciously quiet……..

Dan

shut up joe

Liam

care to share with tommy your story with Y/N, daniel?

Dan

i hate u all

fine

i was like in love with her freshman year

and i thought she was into me too

and we made out a couple of times but nothing else

the second she found out i was in delt she stopped talking to me

like complete radio silence

Tom

wtf? Why?

Cal

she doesnt fuck with delts

thats like common greek knowledge

Will

maybe its because shes gonna be dchi sweetheart?

Joey

nah theres gotta be something else

Harrison

well i just put her on the list for tonite

Tom

wait YOU put her on the list?!

Harrison

yeah i invited her friend Emily Gold and she doesnt go anywhere without Y/N and these two other girls

Cal

Ally Park and Isabelle Miller

Harrison

yeah howd u know?

Cal

theyre like those cool girls from high school everyones obsessed with that are just out of everyones league

Tom

wow american high schools are so weird

Dan

tom if u wanna get with her i wont be pissed

Tom

nah like you said she hates delts, and after three tutoring sessions with me i guarentee i am her least favorite delt ever

Liam

theres no fuckin way she shows up tonight

she wouldnt be caught dead at a delt party

Noah

wait you said Y/N Y/L/N may come tonight????

DIBS

DIBS DIBS DIBS

I CALL DIBS

Cal

noah u seriously show up just to call dibs?

Noah

yeah bro have u seen her? if she comes tonight and any of you try to cockblock me i stg ill deck you

Dan

pretty sure tommy has rightful dibs to this one

Tom

nah fam she hates me so fuckin much

let noah try his luck

i doubt she’ll even show

Max

she’ll show.

Tom

what makes u say that?

Liam

max does know her best

Max

she and ally and emily and isabelle are ride or die. they circulate who picks what party they go to and if its emilys turn and harrison somehow conviced her to go, Y/N wont miss it

Dan

she hasnt set foot in a delt house since freshman year, you seriously think she’ll show?

Max

five bucks says she does

Dan

youre on

Noah

i just wanna make it clear

that if she does show

D I B S

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #frat!tom

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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09/08/2020 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 1:1-2:22, 2 Corinthians 10:1-18, Psalms 52:1-9, Proverbs 22:26-27

Today is the 8th day of September welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is great to be here with you today like it is every day because we come together and we take another step forward on the journey that we have committed to for this year, which is to move through the entire Bible together in community, day by day step-by-step, month by month. And, so, here we are at the threshold of some new territory in the Scriptures. We finished Song of Solomon yesterday with Jill and that was the wisdom literature of the Bible. We will fully conclude the wisdom literature and poetry of the Bible when we…when we conclude the book of Proverbs. But now we’re turning the corner in the Old Testament into the category known as the major prophets and we will begin with the book of Isaiah. And, so, before we do that let’s just fly over it. It’s good to get our bearings as we go into these prophetic books because they are full of symbolism and allegory and all kinds of interesting imagery.

Introduction to the book of Isaiah:

So, Isaiah, like we were just saying, is a part of the category known as the major prophets. And they're not known as major prophets because they have more importance than the minor prophets. They’re considered the major prophets because of the amount of material that is in…in the major prophets. So, the major prophets are Isaiah, which we’re about to launch into and then Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, and Daniel. So, for example, Isaiah contains 66 chapters and it’s one of the longer books in the Bible where some of the minor prophets, a lot of the minor prophets we’ll read through in one single day. But we’ll see as we begin to move into Isaiah that he is very passionate about what he's saying. And we will also find a number of passages that we move through to be familiar, some of the passages in Isaiah are some of the most famous passages in the Bible. Isaiah is used fairly extensively to as it's quoted in the New Testament. Jesus quoted from Isaiah 8 times in the Gospels. It was Isaiah that Jesus used to announce His ministry, like to launch His ministry in Nazareth when he’s like, “the spirit of the Lord is upon me”, right, “for He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.” And if we remember right, Jesus does this declaration, He reads from the book of Isaiah and He says this prophecy is fulfilled in your hearing and all of the people wanted to throw him off of a cliff after that. So, we can see Isaiah has some significance certainly rooted in the Old Testament, but very influential in the new Testament. As far as trying to place Isaiah historically, we’re probably looking around the second half of the eighth century BC. So, I guess if you kind of think of King David and…and then you think all the way to Jesus, I think that’s approximately 1500 years. So, Isaiah is like halfway between, roughly. And it seems like Isaiah was a person of prestige in some sort of way. Like, maybe part of a part of the upper-class, part of the aristocracy because he had access to kings and royalty and if he didn’t, you’re not just gonna get a crazed peasant coming in out of the countryside and having access over a long period of time to a number of kings. So, he was probably well educated and well connected. He prophesied during the reigns of five different kings and all of these kings we moved through their stories when we were going through the books of Samuel and Kings and Chronicles. So, Isaiah brings us back into that time, specifically among the reigns of certain kings, Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, Hezekiah and Manasseh, and then it's under Manasseh that…that the tradition of the Christian faith as well as the Jewish tradition was that Isaiah was martyred by Manasseh who ordered him to be…who ordered him to be sawed in half. There's no biblical reference to that. Like, there's nothing verifying that tradition. I guess the closest we would have is a reference in Hebrews that says some…some of the prophets died by stoning, some were sawed in half others were killed with the sword. And the tradition is that Manasseh was so fed up with Isaiah that he had him killed in this way. Now as we launch in, we’re gonna see like the parts of the Bible where you’re like, “this is the angry God part, He’s working through the prophets and doom and gloom and judgment.” And we will see some sobering things that get set, especially in the first half of Isaiah and then the whole complexion changes and the comforts and the promise of restoration and the promise of hope begins to emerge and it becomes one of the more encouraging parts of the Bible. And we must remember, these prophetic books, plenty of symbolism, plenty of metaphor, plenty that can be taken allegorically, plenty of allegorical language. And that's what we’ll experience in Isaiah and throughout the rest of the prophets. So, there are different lenses to approach these texts through but it's interesting just to kind of watch ourselves as we hear it or as we read it. Like, “what are we…what do we notice as symbolism? And then what is it that we’re taking literally and how and why are we doing that?” It's good to...it…it's good to exercise those muscles especially as we move closer and closer to the end of the year and like books like Revelation. How do we determine what we’re taking literally? How do we determine what is symbolic? And how can we determine what the symbol…the symbolism is about? And, so, let's just kind of watch ourselves as we’re hearing things and invite the Holy Spirit to lead us where we need to be led as we go through these books together and how they apply to our lives. So, we’re reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week. And let's dive in. Isaiah chapters 1 and 2.

Prayer:

We thank you father for your word and we thank you for the many complexions that it brings us through. And as we enter the books of major prophecy now, we invite your Holy Spirit to lead and guide us. And as we continue through the letters of Paul we ask that you take us deeper in our understanding of our relationship with you, deeper in our understanding of what the transformation that you are doing within us looks like and how to live into that and apply it to our lives. We love you. We need you. We worship you. Our hope is in you and you alone. Holy Spirit well up from within and lead us deeper into Jesus today we ask in the precious name of our Savior. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website and it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

It’s a birthday in the Hardin house today. My son Maxwell who….who read Daily Audio Bible kids for a couple years when he was much younger leaves his teen years today and becomes 20, which, you know, these birthday’s, they go by and you start thinking, “ha…how did that happen. I still feel like I'm 20 in some areas of my life. Like I have a lot of growing up to do in my own self. How did this happen?” But congratulations to Max. And we rejoice and celebrate that today.

Reminding you that the…yeah…the website and the app, they are the places to go to stay connected.

So, check out the community section. That's where the Prayer Wall that we speak of often lives. Check out the resources that are available in the Shop. Those are resources that have been made over the years because of the repetition, because of the journey, the rhythm that has been established here, day by day step-by-step forward through the Scriptures. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you profoundly. If the mission to…to speak out loud God's word for anybody who will listen to it and to build community around that rhythm, of that's become a part of your life and is meaningful then thank you for your partnership. Thank you so very much. So, there's a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the red button at the top, or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello my name is Michelle I’m on my third trip around the sun on the DAB family journey and I just wanted to thank all of you for the encouragement of coming back every day and standing strong when things are hard and being real and true and brave and faithful. So, thank you. I hope I can encourage you too in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hello DAB this is Jeremy Naff with…in Oregon and I’m just calling for the first time. I’ve been listening to the DAB now for…since January when we started the new…new time through the Bible and really just appreciate this. Blind Tony’s poem today just struck a note with me it’s almost like he was reading my own story. It’s when I get up early in the morning before the sun is up and listen to the DAB and spend time of the Lord. I was diagnosed with cancer four years ago and I’m just asking for prayer regarding that. The treatments haven’t been working. It’s now spreading to my lungs and now I’m going back on a backup chemo pill because the trials didn’t work, and I was kicked off of it. And I just want to spend my time wisely that I have if I don’t have much time. So, I pray that you would include me in your prayers for that, that the Lord would help me to know what to do, how to spend my time so that I’m not wasting my time. And pray for healing two. I really don’t want to have my life shortened necessarily although I do have peace about everything that’s going on in my life. So, I thank you for all of you guys prayer request. I pray for each and every one as I hear them. Thank you so much for your love and for your care. Have blessed day.

Dabbers, Jordan in Texas. Let’s pray. Father, I pray for Ryan Kelleher in…in California who called in letting us know about his heavy heart and him just thinking about maybe a possible mental illness. Not sure…it sounds like what’s going on. But Father we just give You thanks for Ryan and that he is turning his attention to You and wanting to walk this life with You and through whatever comes his way. And, so, Lord I pray that You would hold his heavy heart, that You would be to him a light yoke, an easy burden in exchange for this heavy heart. And, so, Lord thank You for what You’re doing in his life. We pray against mental illness, we ask You Father for the mind of Christ Father that You talk about in Your word and just stability and Lord just a rhythm of grace in his life that maybe he’s coming out stuff or making changes in his life as You lead him but that, You know, that he’s just walking with You with Your rhythm, with Your pace and not looking at this person or that person in comparison but that he’s just looking to You Father, that You are the author and finisher of his faith. And…and, so, anyways we love You Ryan. We pray these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Okay so Tony the Narrator here hello everybody I love each and every one of you. Just a quick update. I’m in my new place. I’m still unpacking but it’s…it’s a lovely room. It’s a 20-minute walk from work and things are really calm. I’d like to thank everybody who prayed for me on Facebook. You all know who you are, and I love all of you. And I just want you to know that I’m praying for each and every one of you. Please keep praying for Vesna, Will, and the young Muslim man who I only got to share one message and it seems to have all disappeared off of Facebook now. So, I’ll probably never find out what happened there, but I sent him a challenge. I said you believe that God speaks to you in your dreams, ask Jesus to explain to you if He’s real or not. Hopefully that’s going to hit home. So, yeah, Vesna and Will they’re friends who I got to share the gospel…I had an amazing day…I shared the gospel with three different people at three different times. It was amazing. So, everybody, I’m praying with you, crying with you, laughing you, rejoicing with you. It’s…it’s an emotional roller coaster this Daily Audio Bible thing isn’t it? It’s been six years of suffering, tears, joy, and jubilance. So, God bless you all. Love you Brian and the Hardin family. China and Ben, we…I’m loving you guys too. God bless you all. Bye-bye.

Please pray for my baby boy. He was born at 26 weeks, three months early and…and he was doing really well for the first few weeks of life. But he’s had two emergency surgeries because he had an intestinal perforation and we’d just gotten to the other side of that and his stomach was healing up and was finally able to consume real food…I mean not real food but breastmilk and we found that he had a heart murmur which lead to us doing an echocardiogram where we realized that he had not one but three heart defects and that he’s gonna need surgery. Please pray for my baby boy Noah that he will be safe. That he’ll make it through this. God has been so faithful __ for us and having him be born. __ for him and pray for peace for me and my husband __ comfort…

I would like to ask for prayer for Chris. He recently dedicated or re-dedicated his life or Jesus but he has been under spiritual and physical attack. I ask that you pray for him. Plus, he’s starting a new career which has taken a while because our states been pretty closed up and it’s caused him to get kind of depressed, but I pray or I ask that you would keep Chris in prayer. I believe God has His hand on him and the enemy doesn’t want him to move forward. So, I ask that you would please pray for his physical healing, spiritual healing, and these attacks on him would stop. He also needs…is in need of finances. But again, his name is Chris and I appreciate the Daily Audio Bible. This is my first time calling. God bless all of you.

Yes, I am calling on behalf of my son 17 years old my wife and I and family adopted him when he was 7, 10 years ago. I’m just asking for prayer. My 17-year-old son is in a residential treatment center and he suffers with a mental disease called the DID, which is dissociative identity disorder and also a mood dysregulation disorder. My son has been in lots of trouble and had a lot of issues and it’s been very difficult. The last couple years have been extremely difficult. I’m just asking for prayer for him, that he would have angels do battle on his behalf. I pray Lord that he would focus on himself and focus on God and that he would learn…do a better job learning and accepting responsibility for some of the actions and some of the things that he needs to change with himself. I just ask that everybody here on the Daily Audio Bible would pray for Marvin. He needs to be healed. He needs to have a future that he can look forward to. Thank you so much.

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onboardsorasora · 1 year ago

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This literally popped up in my head after I finished that 'in the tags' post lmao. So....here's what no one asked for: Big CityTM reporter Dan and Country Boy Max

Daniel is a up and coming reporter for the local paper in the city. He had a really great breakout peace that garnered him a lot of attention from his peers and the editor in chief for his paper. The problem was that Daniel’s editor hadn’t wanted to run his story and a story got scrubbed last minute.

To punish him for being good, Daniel gets assigned to interview this guy a few towns over who claimed to see an UFO. Daniel’s livid, he knows whats going on but he can’t say no. He’ll go to this stupid town, interview this guy and write a fucking thesis on the sighting.

So he goes, jumps in his Raptor that was a bit of a splurge but it makes him happy. He pulls up to this smaller town by about lunch time, the address he’s given is this almost cabin like house on the edge of a cattle farm property.

He knocks on the door and this older man with a punchable face opens it, Daniel recognises the ‘the fuck do you want?’ face immediately. He gets it a lot as a journalist.

“Good afternoon, my name’s Daniel Ricciardo. I work with [insert big city newspaper here]. I’m here to ask about the sighting?”

Eventually he meets Max after Jos grumbles for a bit and complains about ‘fuckin aliens’. Daniel thinks Max is cute, in a very stocky country strong type of way. But he’s also about to interview him about seeing a UFO soooo …yeah.

Max has them walking around the edge of the farm and is talking to him about the sighting, that it was a weird light in the sky, no sound, no wind, some kinda pressure in the atmosphere that made the animals spooked.

Daniel picks up that Max doesn’t truly care about the whole UFO aspect of it all, he just cared about how it affected the animals. So Daniel tells him, like he gets it, its kinda weird but theres not really a story here.

“What? Because I didn’t get taken on their ship and fucked in the ass its not a story?” Max was deadpan and Daniel was shocked for 1.5 seconds before he bowls over laughing. He doesn’t see it, but Max is cheesing that he made him laugh.

“I wasn’t the only one to see it, you can ask Alex.”

In journalism, 2 sources are more concrete than one, so against his better judgement, Daniel agrees to meet this Alex. Turns out there were several people who admitted to seeing the same thing Max did and Daniel’s still skeptical but he’s aware that something must have happened.

His investigative journalist brain has been pinged, he has an itch to get to the bottom of this. So he calls up his editor and says hes staying out there for a few more days. He books a room in the motel nearby.

He and Max end up spending a lot of time together because Max was his first point of contact and knew everyone in the town. He could wrangle people and animals. Daniel’s also realizing that the longer he spends around Max the more he’s captivated by him. He truly wasn’t the dumb farm boy Daniel had initially pegged him as.

At the same time, Daniel is knee deep in all sorts of secrets about this town. His UFO story gained like three extra branches because this town has apparently been a hot bed for weird activity. And he enlists Max to help him sort it all out.

They’re working late one night in Daniel’s hotel room looking over maps and they kiss for the first time. They have sex in Daniel’s room surrounded by books and maps of the town’s history.

Daniel eventually goes back to the big cityTM and writes a killer of a story that gets a place on the front page with spillover on page 4. He gets a lot of interview requests and his career takes off. He gets invited on an interview in another big city for a nationwide news agency and bumps into Max who looks good. Daniel can’t help but think how nicely he cleans up.

They’re interviewed together and they kill it and people love their chemistry or whatever people look for in interviews. Daniel invites Max for dinner and they have sex in Max’s hotel room. And then they get together and live happily ever after.

#I have no explanation here lmao #this is my brain offloading after finishing 2wrecked2furious lolol #max/daniel #maxiel

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gnosticgnoob · 5 years ago

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Variations on a Theme: "The Weird vs The Quantifiable" -- Aggregated Commentary from within the Gutenberg Galaxy

The pursuit of examining the world through philosophy, mathematics, and science tends to be seen as expanding the borders of what is known and quantified, conquering the territory of what is not yet known. In this pursuit, the investigator encounters wonder or the "weird", and what ideologically separates some philosophers and scientists from others is whether the investigator sets aside the weird as a misunderstood quirk of what is not yet known but still knowable, or the investigator takes into account the weird as a fundamental, permanent attribute of the landscape of inquiry that may perhaps always represent factors which intrinsically and inescapably evade knowledge and literary explanation, not as a bug of our understanding but as a feature of the true ontological state of affairs. The former mindset supposes that with more time and rigor, our inquiry will finally arrive at a sort of epistemological/ontological "bedrock" that dispels any sense of the bizarre, the latter treats scientific inquiry itself as necessitating the injection of a sort of subjective poetry or play to adequately do justice to the full reality of what is observed and described for our purposes, without ever expecting that we will hit such bedrock. Materialism/scientism perhaps would posit that any inclusion of the mystical or poetic in the language we use to describe the world is inappropriate, pseudo-scientific, pseudo-intellectual, or maladaptive; the mystic posits conversely that to exclude the poetic and not make room for the weird is maladaptive.

I have here a collection of excerpts from other thinkers that I think work together to allude to the mystical as a permanent fixture of our endeavors for clarification through experimentation and language, or at least suggest that a more "mystical" mindset will always be more useful than one that is conversely more in the vein of materialism/scientism trying to arrive at a "final technical vocabulary":

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

“We say the map is different from the territory. But what is the territory? Operationally, somebody went out with a retina or a measuring stick and made representations which were then put on paper. What is on the paper map is a representation of what was in the retinal representation of the man who made the map; and as you push the question back, what you find is an infinite regress, an infinite series of maps. The territory never gets in at all. […] Always, the process of representation will filter it out so that the mental world is only maps of maps, ad infinitum.” --Gregory Bateson, English anthropologist, social scientist, linguist, visual anthropologist, semiotician, and cyberneticist whose work intersected that of many other fields. His writings include Steps to an Ecology of Mind (1972) and Mind and Nature (1979). In Palo Alto, California, Bateson and colleagues developed the double-bind theory of schizophrenia. Bateson's interest in systems theory forms a thread running through his work. He was one of the original members of the core group of the Macy conferences in Cybernetics (1941- 1960), and the later set on Group Processes (1954 - 1960), where he represented the social and behavioral sciences; he was interested in the relationship of these fields to epistemology.

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

“The mind is somehow a co-creator in the process of reality through acts of language. Language is very, very mysterious. It is true magic. People run all over the place looking for paranormal abilities, but notice that when I speak if your internal dictionary matches my internal dictionary, that my thoughts cross through the air as an acoustical pressure wave and are reconstructed inside your cerebral cortex as your thought. Your understanding of my words. Telepathy exists; it is just that the carrier wave is small mouth noises.” --Terence McKenna, "Eros And The Eschaton". McKenna was called the "Timothy Leary of the '90s", an American ethnobotanist, mystic, psychonaut, lecturer, author, and an advocate for the responsible use of naturally occurring psychedelic plants. He spoke and wrote about a variety of subjects, including psychedelic drugs, plant-based entheogens, shamanism, metaphysics, alchemy, language, philosophy, culture, technology, environmentalism, and the theoretical origins of human consciousness. -------------------------------------

“If quantum mechanics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet. Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” --Niels Bohr, Danish physicist who made foundational contributions to understanding atomic structure and quantum theory, for which he received the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1922. Bohr developed the Bohr model of the atom, in which he proposed that energy levels of electrons are discrete and that the electrons revolve in stable orbits around the atomic nucleus but can jump from one energy level (or orbit) to another. Although the Bohr model has been supplanted by other models, its underlying principles remain valid. He conceived the principle of complementarity: that items could be separately analysed in terms of contradictory properties, like behaving as a wave or a stream of particles. -------------------------------------

“We have to remember that what we observe is not nature herself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” --Werner Heisenberg, German theoretical physicist known for the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, which he published in 1927. Heisenberg was awarded the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics for the creation of quantum mechanics. He also made important contributions to the theories of the hydrodynamics of turbulent flows, the atomic nucleus, ferromagnetism, cosmic rays, and subatomic particles, and he was instrumental in planning the first West German nuclear reactor at Karlsruhe. -------------------------------------

“We have no right to assume that any physical laws exist, or if they have existed up to now, that they will continue to exist in a similar manner in the future.” --Max Planck, German theoretical physicist whose discovery of energy quanta won him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Planck made many contributions to theoretical physics, but his fame as a physicist rests primarily on his role as the originator of quantum theory; the discovery of Planck's constant enabled him to define a new universal set of physical units (such as the Planck length and the Planck mass), all based on fundamental physical constants upon which much of quantum theory is based. -------------------------------------

“There is no such thing as philosophy-free science; there is only science whose philosophical baggage is taken on board without examination.” --Daniel Dennett, American philosopher, writer, and cognitive scientist whose research centers on the philosophy of mind, philosophy of science, and philosophy of biology, particularly as those fields relate to evolutionary biology and cognitive science. A member of the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry, he is referred to as one of the "Four Horsemen of New Atheism", along with Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and the late Christopher Hitchens. -------------------------------------

“Things themselves become so burdened with attributes, signs, allusions that they finally lose their own form. Meaning is no longer read in an immediate perception, the figure no longer speaks for itself; between the knowledge which animates it and the form into which it is transposed, a gap widens. It is free for the dream.” --Michel Foucault, French philosopher, historian of ideas, social theorist, and literary critic. Foucault's theories primarily address the relationship between power and knowledge, and how they are used as a form of social control through societal institutions. His thought has influenced academics, especially those working in communication studies, anthropology, sociology, cultural studies, literary theory, feminism, and critical theory. Though often cited as a post-structuralist and postmodernist, Foucault rejected these labels. -------------------------------------

“When the mind projects names and concepts on what is seen through direct perception, confusion and delusion result.” --Patanjali, sage in Hinduism, thought to be the author of a number of Sanskrit works. The greatest of these are the Yoga Sutras, a classical yoga text. -------------------------------------

“The man who says that he has no illusions has at least that one.” --Joseph Conrad, Under Western Eyes (1911). Polish-British writer regarded as one of the greatest novelists to write in the English language. Conrad wrote stories and novels, many with a nautical setting, that depict trials of the human spirit in the midst of what he saw as an impassive, inscrutable universe. Heart of Darkness is among is most famous works. Conrad is considered an early modernist, though his works contain elements of 19th-century realism. His narrative style and anti-heroic characters have influenced numerous authors, and many films have been adapted from, or inspired by, his works. Numerous writers and critics have commented that Conrad's fictional works, written largely in the first two decades of the 20th century, seem to have anticipated later world events. -------------------------------------

“I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something.” --Richard P. Feynman, American theoretical physicist, known for his work in the path integral formulation of quantum mechanics, the theory of quantum electrodynamics, and the physics of the superfluidity of supercooled liquid helium, as well as in particle physics for which he proposed the parton model. For contributions to the development of quantum electrodynamics, Feynman received the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1965. He assisted in the development of the atomic bomb during World War II and became known to a wide public as a member of the commission that investigated the Challenger shuttle disaster. Along with his work in theoretical physics, Feynman has been credited with pioneering the field of quantum computing and introducing the concept of nanotechnology. -------------------------------------

“The critical ontology of ourselves has to be considered not, certainly, as a theory, a doctrine, nor even as a permanent body of knowledge that is accumulating; it has to be conceived as an attitude, an ethos, a philosophical life in which the critique of what we are is at one and the same time the historical analysis of the limits that are imposed on us and an experiment with the possibility of going beyond them.” --Michel Foucault -------------------------------------

“In mystical literature such self-contradictory phrases as ‘dazzling obscurity,’ 'whispering silence,’ 'teeming desert,’ are continually met with. They prove that not conceptual speech, but music rather, is the element through which we are best spoken to by mystical truth. Many mystical scriptures are indeed little more than musical compositions. “He who would hear the voice of Nada, 'the Soundless Sound,’ and comprehend it, he has to learn the nature of Dharana…. When to himself his form appears unreal, as do on waking all the forms he sees in dreams, when he has ceased to hear the many, he may discern the ONE—the inner sound which kills the outer…. For then the soul will hear, and will remember. And then to the inner ear will speak THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE…. And now thy SELF is lost in SELF, THYSELF unto THYSELF, merged in that SELF from which thou first didst radiate.… Behold! thou hast become the Light, thou hast become the Sound, thou art thy Master and thy God. Thou art THYSELF the object of thy search: the VOICE unbroken, that resounds throughout eternities, exempt from change, from sin exempt, the seven sounds in one, the VOICE OF THE SILENCE. Om tat Sat.” (H.P. Blavatsky, The Voice of the Silence). These words, if they do not awaken laughter as you receive them, probably stir chords within you which music and language touch in common. Music gives us ontological messages which non-musical criticism is unable to contradict, though it may laugh at our foolishness in minding them. There is a verge of the mind which these things haunt; and whispers therefrom mingle with the operations of our understanding, even as the waters of the infinite ocean send their waves to break among the pebbles that lie upon our shores.” --William James, Varieties of Religious Experience. American philosopher and psychologist, and the first educator to offer a psychology course in the United States. James was a leading thinker of the late nineteenth century, one of the most influential U.S. philosophers, and has been labeled the "Father of American psychology". Along with Charles Sanders Peirce, James established the philosophical school known as pragmatism. James also developed the philosophical perspective known as radical empiricism. James' work has influenced intellectuals such as Émile Durkheim, W. E. B. Du Bois, Edmund Husserl, Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Hilary Putnam, and Richard Rorty, as well as former US President Jimmy Carter. -------------------------------------

“Metaphysical assertions, however, are statements of the psyche, and are therefore psychological. … Whenever the Westerner hears the word ‘psychological’, it always sounds to him like ‘only psychological.’” --Carl Jung, “Psyche and Symbol”. Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. Jung's work was influential in the fields of psychiatry, anthropology, archaeology, literature, philosophy, and religious studies. Jung worked as a research scientist at the famous Burghölzli hospital, during which time he came to the attention of Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis. The two men conducted a lengthy correspondence and collaborated, for a while, on a joint vision of human psychology. Among the central concepts of analytical psychology is individuation—the lifelong psychological process of differentiation of the self out of each individual's conscious and unconscious elements, a process which Jung considered to be the main task of human development. He created some of the best known psychological concepts, including synchronicity, archetypal phenomena, the collective unconscious, the psychological complex, and extraversion and introversion. -------------------------------------

“God is a psychic fact of immediate experience, otherwise there would never have been any talk of God. The fact is valid in itself, requiring no non-psychological proof and inaccessible to any form of non-psychological criticism. It can be the most immediate and hence the most real of experiences, which can be neither ridiculed nor disproved.” --Carl Jung -------------------------------------

“Daniel C. Dennett defines religions at the beginning of his Breaking the Spell as ‘social systems whose participants avow belief in a supernatural agent or agents whose approval is to be sought,’ which as far as Christianity goes is rather like beginning a history of the potato by defining it as a rare species of rattlesnake…. He also commits the blunder of believing that religion is a botched attempt to explain the world, which is like seeing ballet as a botched attempt to run for a bus.” --Terry Eagleton, Reason, Faith, and Revolution. British literary theorist, critic, and public intellectual, Eagleton has published over forty books, but remains best known for Literary Theory: An Introduction (1983). The work elucidated the emerging literary theory of the period, as well as arguing that all literary theory is necessarily political.

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