#where are the brakes!! Why did my brain not come with brakes!!!!

[sforzesco]

caius trebonius :) I posted this a few days ago, deleted it, posted it to twitter, and now I’m reposting it here! what a circle

anyway, trebonius! sometime in his legate years, but maybe not! what the hell is a timeline*. I will be changing up his face scars until I settle on a good origin comic for them

*I’ve spent the last two days creating a sourcebook on trebonius. I did not intend to do this, I just wanted to check something really quick for a scene I was writing and got mad that his wikipedia page didn’t cite any ancient sources. what was originally 4 pages of notes is now closer to 50 pages. I’m in hell, time has no meaning, I will stab caesar myself

[morelikeravenbore]

Can I Make It Any More Obvious?

Sk8erboi!Sebastian meets Ballerina!Aurélie, part one.

(Or: my slow descent into madness via a sk8er boi x notebook crackfic au.)

Inspired by the girlies in the writing server, thanks for the sk8er boi brain rot. I don't know why I'm writing this and I have absolutely NO IDEA where it's heading.

Content: MODERN AU. 🛹 It's 2002 and Sk8er Boi is rockin' up MTV. 🛹 Sebastian is an idiot (affectionate). 🛹 Sebastian thinks he's good at skateboarding but is secretly a nerd. 🛹 Basically Canon!Sebastian with a skateboard. 🛹 Yes I squeezed in a reference to my favourite Notebook scene. 🛹 Yes there will be more Notebook references. 🛹 Part two when? Who knows. 🤙🤙🤙

Warnings: SFW. Non graphic mentions of blood/head wound.

Word count: 2.6k

👉 PART TWO HERE.

[read on wattpad]

Wizarding folk, among which Sebastian was usually proud to include himself, had a distinct fondness for cobblestones. Great for aesthetics, sure: nothing screamed eccentric magical village quite like alarmingly uneven roads — but what worked for aesthetics was absolutely shite for skateboarding.

That's right. Skateboarding.

Luckily, Sebastian was a wizard — and quite a gifted one at that — and though his professors from his Hogwarts days would likely argue that inventing a hovering charm specifically to ride a Muggle skateboard over otherwise un-skateable terrain was a waste of his talents, he was inclined to disagree — especially now, as he hurtled down the main street of Hogsmeade, dodging carts, villagers and stray cats at speeds that rivalled the newest model of the Firebolt.

No, far from a waste of time, this was undoubtedly the most impressive use of his magical prowess since he'd successfully cast the Torture Curse on the first go.

That is until a Thestral-drawn carriage pulled out right in front of him.

‘Fuck —!’

For all the time and effort he'd put into developing his hovering charm, he'd neglected to install an emergency braking system.

Swerving hard to avoid collision, he heel-flipped upwards, accidentally performed his signature mid-air 360 Great-Merlin Kickflip over the top of the carriage, then rail-flipped off a lamppost before launching skyward again.

Choosing to ignore the fact that he'd just performed the best tricks of his life while careening uncontrollably through the air, Sebastian let out a great ‘Yeeeeew!’ of triumph — but the sheer force of his excitement threw him sharply off balance. Wobbling precariously atop the board, arms flapping like an overfed Diricaw trying to outrun a diet plan, he tried to regain control —

But it was no use.

He hit the ground, whacked his head on something hard — a bloody cobblestone, probably — and rolled neatly across the way before the great double doors of the Three Broomsticks finally ended his epic wipeout.

Groaning miserably, he rolled onto his back to find two blurry faces peering down at him with mirrored expressions of shock.

‘Are you alright?’ they asked in perfect unison.

Blinking rapidly, Sebastian's entire world flipped on its axis (er, again) as the face of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen came into stunning, albeit upside-down relief: backlit by the summer sun, a halo of auburn hair framed a pair of eyes so piercingly blue that he was sure they saw into his soul.

Fuck, he was dead, wasn't he? He was dead and this vision of beauty above him was an angel come to take him away to — ah, fuck fuck fuck! Death by malfunctioning magical skateboard was not how he'd planned to go out!

He scrambled gracelessly to his feet.

‘Shit,’ he replied, flicking his swishy hair out of his eyes. ‘I mean — fuck. Hello — shit, you're pretty.’

Taken aback, the girl's orphic eyes widened in alarm.

‘Did you — are you hurt?’

Sebastian swayed on the spot. ‘Who, me?’ He tried to chuckle, but nonchalance was difficult with a head wound. ‘Yeah, I'm fiiiine — completely, totally fine… Never been better, actually. Feel amazing. Best ride of my life.’

Her gaze lingered on his forehead. ‘You're bleeding…’

‘Am I?’ He definitely was — he could feel it. ‘S'alright, happens all the —’

A very disorienting moment later, Sebastian found himself in the back room of the Three Broomsticks with a cold rag pressed to his head and a very irate barkeeper clicking her tongue in disapproval.

‘Skateboarding!’ Sirona tutted. ‘Right through the middle of Hogsmeade! What were you thinking?’

But Sebastian wasn't thinking. At least, not about anything but startling blue eyes.

‘Wasn't,’ he muttered thickly. ‘Where girl?’

He stood up; Sirona shoved him back down.

‘Sebastian, you've got a bloody great gaping wound on your head!’ she scolded, holding him down by the shoulders. ‘I've called for the Healer —’

‘Fuck the Healer.’ He stood up again, swiping his bloody forehead with the back of his hand. Just a scratch. He'd be fine.

‘Oh for the love of —’ Catching him by the sleeve before he could stumble for the exit, Sirona levelled him a look she usually reserved for unruly patrons who’d indulged in too much firewhisky. ‘The girl who brought you here — while you were semi-conscious and incoherent, might I add — is eating lunch in the corner booth. But behave yourself, will you?’ she called after him as he wrenched out of her grip. ‘She's French!’

Sebastian liked Sirona — really, he did; she was the only villager who let him practise his kickflips out the back of the Three Broomies without calling the authorities — but right now he'd push her off a cliff if she got in the way of him and the girl.

Still unsteady on his feet, he barrelled into the tavern proper, where the lunch hour was in full swing and the smell of ale and shepherd's pie made his head spin. He made for the corner booth, flattening his hair with his hands and praying to Merlin above that he didn't look as fucked up as he felt — but his heart dropped when he found the booth occupied not by a dainty little redhead girl but by a group of menacing-looking warlocks tucking into a pig's head for lunch.

Shit.

He spun around. Maybe it was the concussion speaking, but he had the most awful, gut-wrenching feeling that if he never saw her again, terrible things would happen.

He had to see her again.

Scanning the crowd with increasing desperation, he was just about to accost Sirona for more details when he caught a flash of long, red hair slipping through the exit. He dashed across the room, chasing that swishy hair the way a bull charges after a Matador.

‘Hey!’ he called out, skidding through the doorway and into the sunlit street beyond. ‘Hey, wait!’

Frantic, he pushed through a group of disgruntled old ladies, jumped over a very startled cat and almost lost his footing again as he hurtled down the road, this time driven not by magically charmed skateboard but sheer desperation.

‘Hi,’ he panted when he finally caught up to her.

The girl cast him a sideways glance.

‘Oh, look,’ she said with a melodic French accent, ‘it's my new husband.’

Sebastian stumbled over another cobblestone.

‘I — what?’

‘You must've hit your head quite hard indeed if you don't remember professing marriage to a complete stranger.’

He stopped dead in his tracks. Was she joking?

‘I didn't,’ he said, aghast.

‘You did,’ she returned, flashing a wry grin over her shoulder as she walked on.

He hurried after her. ‘Fuck, I'm — I'm sorry, I hit my head really hard.’

‘Oh, so you're revoking your marriage proposal?’

‘No —! I mean, yes, but — I don't even know your name.’

‘Hmm.’ She stopped to peer interestedly at the window display of Tomes and Scrolls. ‘Makes our engagement a bit awkward, no?’

Sebastian could only gape wordlessly as she drifted gracefully into the bookstore.

‘Hang on.’ He dumped his board at the door and lumbered in after her. ‘You said yes?’

The girl pressed her lips together in suppressed amusement. ‘I said I'd think about it. – Bonjour!’ she added, greeting Mr Brown so sweetly that the shopkeeper's usually surly countenance brightened like he'd swallowed his sun. Sebastian wondered if he, too, looked equally as ridiculous as he followed her down the nearest aisle…

Likely he did.

He didn't really care.

‘You'd think about it?’ he whispered, lowering his voice as a show of respect to the books crammed into the overstuffed shelves on either side of them.

Though he'd be hesitant to admit it aloud to anyone (lest the truth ruin the bad boy persona he'd been carefully cultivating for many years), Sebastian was at his happiest when surrounded by books. No longer having access to the Hogwarts library since he’d graduated a year prior, he'd taken to visiting Tomes and Scrolls so often that Mr Brown, a fervent bibliophile and an avid sesquipedalian, had given him a part-time job and leased him the shoebox flat on the second floor, ‘...since you refuse to cease importuning me with your quotidian ritual of perambulating about my pulchritudinous premises!’

Crammed with books but bereft of furniture, the tiny, two-roomed flat was dingey, draughty and, judging by the thick layer of dust that’d greeted him on his arrival, hadn't had a living soul cross its threshold since 1892 — but it sure beat living with Solomon in Feldcroft: the only thing his uncle hated more than Sebastian's boards was Sebastian himself, and though piles of books didn't offer much in the way of conversation on those long nights alone in his flat, at least they'd never called him a good-for-nothing waste of space nor gotten so black-out drunk they’d passed out in the middle of the living room for several days. 

No, when it came to companionship, Sebastian generally preferred the fictional sort.

Today, though, squeezed between the narrow aisles with a girl whose radiance rendered him dumber than a flobberworm, Sebastian wouldn't have noticed if the books became sentient, grew papery legs and performed a perfectly choreographed flash dance in the village square. Deep in the reverential hush of the bookstore, they could have been the only two people in the world.

‘Well, you seemed so terribly earnest about us getting married…’ mused the girl, trailing delicate fingers over book spines and blurbs. ‘And I didn't want to hurt your feelings when you were injured. And then the barkeeper came —’

‘— Sirona.’

‘Oui. And you asked her to prepare us a wedding suite.’

Sebastian stared at her. ‘I can't tell if you’re joking or if you’re just…’

‘French?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mm,’ she said simply, and it was only when she looked him over did he become horrifying aware of his state of dishevelment: his grey hoodie was caked in dirt, there was a new tear in his jeans that he hadn't artfully produced on purpose, and when he glanced at his reflection in a nearby glass cabinet, he was shocked by how much blood was smeared across his forehead.

This was not Sebastian's first head wound. It was, however, his most mortifying.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, this angelic girl, with her silk blouse and balletic gait, wasn’t running from him, threatening to hex him, or even regarding him with the slightest bit of ridicule. In fact, unless the knock to his brain had skewed his ability to accurately interpret social cues, she rather seemed to be enjoying his company.

Or at the very least, she found him amusing.

He could work with amusing.

When she disappeared down the next aisle, he steeled his nerves, cast a (mostly useless) cleaning charm over his scraggly appearance, and followed after her again — only this time, with the strategic use of his signature swagger in full swing, the effect of which usually left hoards of girls swooning in his wake.

He tousled his hair.

‘Anyway,’ he began, confident, suave, assured, ‘I'm Sebas —’

‘— Sebastian Sallow,’ she said, not looking up from the book she was perusing. ‘I know, you told me earlier. You also told me your age, your middle name, which house you were in at Hogwarts, your favourite colour, and,’ — she flashed a dubious glance at the cut on his forehead, — ‘that you're “hands down the best skater in all the Highlands.”’

Sebastian's swagger visibly deflated.

‘Is that all I told you?’ he gulped. Given his recent history, blabbering on about marriage was not the worst thing he could’ve told her.

Not by any stretch.

‘Mhm.’ She slipped the book under her arm and glided deeper into the shop. ‘Aside from the marriage proposal.’

‘Right,’ he swallowed. ‘Aside from that. So, uh.’ He stepped around her before she could flit off again. ‘Are you going to tell me your name?’

She smiled up at him, and he wondered if her plump, strawberry lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

Fuck.

‘I already did,’ she said coyly, lightly stepping around him again. ‘But you evidently did not commit it to memory.’

Whatever remained of his short-lived confidence packed up its bags and slinked out of the bookstore with its tail between its legs, leaving him fully exposed as the poser he truly was.

‘You didn't,’ he moaned, chasing after the scent of her floral hair like a bee starved of pollen.

‘I did.’

‘No.’

‘Twice, actually.’

‘Twice?’

‘Mhm,’ she said, picking up another book. ‘Not a great start to our whirlwind romance, is it?’

Sebastian looked at her sideways.

‘I still can't tell if you're joking,’ he lamented, feeling a burgeoning sense of anxiety tighten his chest. ‘What if I guess?’

She set the book down and turned to him.

‘Listen, Sebastian,’ she began, pronouncing his name the French way, ‘you seem very sweet, but —’

‘I am!’ he blurted. ‘I am sweet! Very sweet, in fact! Unless —’ A surge of panic stole through him. — ‘Unless you don't like sweet? In that case, I'm not sweet, I'm horrible. A nightmare. I'm literally the worst, I'm —’

‘You're dumb,’ she interrupted with a giggle.

Sebastian softened like fucking butter.

‘I can be that,’ he said with so much earnestness he wondered what the fucking hell was wrong with him. ‘I can be dumb, if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want, and I'll be it.’’

‘What I want,’ she said, regarding him with equal parts exasperation and pity, ‘is for you to get your head looked at.’

'You sound like my uncle,' he snorted. 'I mean, uh, I will!... If you come with me?'

‘Do you need me to hold your hand?’ she said archly.

‘Yes!’

‘Mm…’ She pretended to think. ‘Non.’

‘But — wait! What if — What if I have a concussion and I die without ever knowing your name? Wouldn't that be tragic?’ He pressed his hands to his chest and went on dramatically, ‘As I lay dying, holding the vision of your face in my mind's eye like a guiding light, my only regret will be that I never knew the name of beauty.’

Clearly unmoved, she levelled him a look so dry it would've parched a weaker man than he. But Sebastian Sallow was no coward! — Especially not with books at his disposal and the smell of parchment in his lungs. Inspired into a literary fervour, he swept his arms wide.

‘Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips,’ — his voice dropped to a whisper, — ‘O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss…’

‘Oh, mon dieu.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It's Aurélie. — Aurélie Collins.’

Sebastian's mouth dropped.

‘Aurélie Collins the ballerina?’

‘Oui.’

She turned. He followed.

‘The famous one?’

‘Oui.’

‘But you're the youngest ballerina in the Paris ballet or — whatever. Right?’

‘Ballet de l'Opéra national de Paris,’ she corrected, holding herself a little straighter. ‘I didn't pick you as a ballet fan.’

‘I'm — well, I'm not,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘But my best mate is. Fancy prick, Ominis is, but all the Gaunt's are.’

She stopped so abruptly that he bumped into her.

‘Ominis Gaunt is your best friend?’

Considering they hadn't spoken in over a year, “best friend” seemed a bit of a stretch, but for all intents and purposes, Ominis was really the only friend Sebastian had. Or used to have: after that one time Sebastian had used the torture curse on him, their friendship had become a little… strained.

‘Why?’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said loftily. ‘In fact, he and I have a date planned in ten minutes from now.’

Don't worry, there's not a single universe in which Sebastian and Aurélie don't fall stupidly in love. I just needed a foolproof way to make Sebebe jealous in part 2, and what better than to have his girl (quote unquote) go on a date with his estranged best friend who he tortured for a spell book that one time lol.

[doromoni]

Hunting Affections

Charles Leclerc x photographer!reader

Max Verstappen x photographer!reader

Part 6.

fanfic + smau fic

y/n faceclaim : Hwang Eunbi

warnings : Ferrari bashing ( Im so sorry , the plot needs it 🥹) , mentions of abuse.

A/N : UP FOR EDITING 🤍

<previous next>

Summary; Love is but a concept — just connections of neurons that take part in the brain … and yet, why is it the most painful when one falls alone?

or

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back , until you can’t no more. Maybe then they’ll actually know what they’ve lost.

Ignorance is medicated by knowledge and experience — but ignorance can only be cured when the problem is seen and acknowledged.

I used to think that I was just what you made of me, thinking that what I’ve accomplished was because of your influence. You were sensitive, I wouldn’t say that you were insecure, no— you just had the tendency of being self righteous and self serving , I grew in fear that I would’ve taken a piece of your spotlight, so I hid in your shadow … always so quiet and obedient.. But I guess , I now know that i was also at fault, I was ignorant of how you made me so dependent to you and your actions.

I liked to think that I grew apart from ignorance, being enlightened by my own wrong actions and thoughts. Braking the chains that hindered me from living life— the chains that you’ve shackled on me. Maybe, it wasn’t your intention to cage me and poison me with your affections… maybe you’re we’re ignorant , just like I once was. But your ignorance is still no excuse.

I could only hope that you find your own peace and fulfillment . Because I have found mine, and I will be selfish this time and I wont ever let go.

———

Majority of racing fans see Red Bull Racing as the evil power hungry villain of Formula 1 , that and all people in its team are hateful scums of the motorsport world . When in fact , they are the most kind and loving team I have had the chance to work with — where people who treat each other with respect and warmth no matter their organizational hierarchy . But do not get me wrong , the other teams aren’t bad … it’s just Red Bull has its business and employee relationships balanced to a tee.

Moreover, the issue of sexism had been rampant in the motor world, that is already a fact, yet I felt both seen and understood in the premises, in walls of the Red Bull Office… who would’ve known. My presence here was not for a diversity hire or some agenda. I was put here to actually innovate the Red Bull Racing brand and pull my own weight.

Never in my career in motorsports have I felt so appreciated and significant enough to be treated correctly , most specifically in this moment , that sadly I cannot say hadn’t happened before .

I was discreetly pulled from my meetings to talk face to face with Christian Horner. All the possible mistakes I could’ve made came rushing in to my mind. It hasn’t been a week since I’ve officially worked for the racing team , yet here I am walking towards the office of the CEO and team principal of Red Bull Racing.

With a deep breath , I gently knocked on the mahogany door that separated me from my possible dismissal.

“Christian, its Y/N”

“Oh , yes yes . Come in!” Christian’s voice echoed through the thick wood. Slowly opening the door , there I saw my boss with his back pressed on the plush leather material of his office chair ; a hand perched on the bridge of his nose as he signaled me to sit.

“ So , am I in trouble? Why did you need me?” I gave an awkward laugh as I tried to lighten the mood

“It’s about Max” Memories of the meetings and debriefings of relationship lectures from the Italian team came to mind. The lectures were harsh and are mostly one sided , as the fault was somehow always pushed to me ; even if I wasn’t entirely involved , but who could they have blamed? Charles? He was their golden boy — so the nearest person to point to was me. It was always me.

Just like muscle memory, my words instantly echoed.

“I’m so sorry “ slipped from my mouth.

My hands trembled as I waited for the unending reprimands to be more careful not to taint the team brand and all the crap that followed.

But, nothing came … Christian’s face contorted to a face of confusion and perplexity

“…For what? “ He then asked leaning a smidge forward ; his chair squeaking a little.

“Oh … uhm , you said something about Max? I’m assuming that I did something to dirty his image?” I said slowly, now also confused.

“What? No! Max’s image has never been better., Well not if we couldn’t cover this issue. I called you here because I wanted you to work closely with the PR head to cover a fight with Max and other drivers”

my brain stop working , as I heard the words Max , fight and other drivers, slowly connecting the dots ; my mouth spoke before I could realize

“WHAT?! Is Max okay?! How did that happen??”

“Max , is physically ok .It was after the press conference. It was between Max , Leclerc , Daniel and Oscar . We couldn’t get any of the drivers to talk … We were hoping that you could talk to Max.”

As I processed his words , the dilemma of professionalism and personal life came tumbling down and the distinction between the two are becoming blurry. The trauma of working for Ferrari with Charles once again came rushing back.

“Sir, are you asking me as an employee to interrogate my boyfriend? “ I asked , swallowing my nerves . Hoping that what I was thinking of was no where near the truth.

“No y/n , I’m asking for you to see If Max is alright and If he would like to sit out the practice races tomorrow … and if he does open up to you about the fight, then you are not obligated to tell us anything without Max’s consent” As Christian said those words , I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding in; the huge weight leaving my shoulders , because even if they had asked that of me I refuse to betray the person that I love for my career.

“Thank you, Christian. Where is Max right now?” I asked standing up .

“He’s currently inside his driver room — he’s not allowing anyone to enter. Well we hope you’d face a different outcome ” Christian said as he walked me out of his office.

I chuckled at his statement , a very typical Max Verstappen move. Not that he doesn’t want anyone to near him, he’s just afraid that he might say something wrong in the heat of the moment ; something that I’ve learned to handle in the years that i’ve known the Dutch Red Bull driver.

“Hey, Christian… thanks for not asking me to break Max’s trust” I said as I hesitated going out the door.

“Of course, kid. Max is family and now you are too.” He said as he ruffled my hair, earning a groan and a swat from me.

— — —

Pacing through the Red Bull motorhome in a mix of a jog and sprint , I made my way towards Max’s driver room.

And right outside the door was Mary : Max’s Pr manager, pacing back and forth as she spoke to someone on her phone.

Her eyes met mine , and in an instant she was in front of me

“ Oh thank goodness! , y/n! Finally ! you go talk to Max , please . I need to sort important matters about the issue, which of course will be debriefed in our meeting later… alright bye!”

And just like that , Mary was gone . And once again I am facing a mahogany door, only this time it was my boyfriend on the other side.

I raised my knuckles towards the door and gently knocked. Pressing my ear towards the door

“My love , it’s me . What happened? Can you open the door” I heard rustling, but there was no reply.

“Max, please open the door, love . Remember what we agreed on? Communication is the highest priority, please love, let’s talk”

then a soft click and a knob twisting was heard , as the door opened I was then pulled into his embrace . Max’s head buried in my neck , as I felt wetness and heard soft sniffles, Max was crying.

Suddenly alarmed with the severity of the situation, I instantly wrapped my arms around him , a hand softly brushing his hair ; saying soft reassuring words in his ear.

I continued to hold Max tightly in my embrace, as rouge tears slowly fell from my eyes. hurt filling my heart at the sight of the person I love breaking down. Briskly wiped the tears from my cheeks, I heard Max mumble.

“Max?” I asked as I gently maneuvered his face towards me , cradling his cheeks and wiping his tears away with the pad of my thumbs.

“I- I lost control, and I hit him. I punched Charles … I’m sorry. He was insulting you and I-i … it just happened. I was so angry … and I enjoyed doing it., am I really a monster?” His voice broke . A gasp fell out of my lips as my eyes fell to Max’s knuckles , they were bruised and bleeding from the cuts.

The conversation that we had about physical violence came to mind. Max had entrusted me with the knowledge of the extent to which his father had used physical violence to discipline him in his childhood. They’re relationship was better now… but the trauma still stays. Max had sworn to no longer resort to physical violence , he didn’t want anyone to go through what he had before.

“ Shhh, shhh Max, my love . It’s alright. Everything is okay , you’re okay. You didn’t enjoy hurting him , you fought for me, you protected me… that’s it my love, that’s it . You’re not a monster , you never were and you never will be. Max you’re the farthest from it . My love, I’m sorry that you’re facing this because of me. Im so sorry” I lifted the his busted hand and gently pressed a kiss to his wrist.

Guilt suddenly came twisting my stomach, bile rising to my throat. Because of me , Max had done what he hated the most. Im so sorry Max.

“N-no , I don’t regret protecting you , Schatz. I regret my way of doing it. You will always come first.” Max’s change of attitude gave me whiplash. Gone were the tears and vulnerability. The look of determination overcoming his entire feature, he looks so determined for what? Am not so sure.

“My love , what do you mean by that?” I asked as I searched the answer in his eyes.“The track , Liebling … the track” a grin now stretched his face.

“Max , please think straight .You don’t need to do anything “ I said as I once again raised a hand to his cheek softly.

“It’s my job to protect you, My Schatz” Max said , now pulling me closer in his embrace.

“Yeah , yeah … but who treats your wounds, huh? Big baby, please be safe” words muffling as Max pressed my head to his chest. The worry never leaving my mind.

y/n_stills.

Liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, schecoperez and 1,427,995 others

y/n_stills. I didn’t sign up for this @redbullracing I was promised 2 normal drivers. But good job on P1 and P2 on practice 3 I guess

tagged : @maxverstappen1 and @schecoperez

user1 not you using these pics 😭.

user2 y/n outing the red bull drivers. i love it!

user3 Keep em coming @y/n_stills.

y/n_stills. You’re welcome children

maxverstappen1 wow… thanks dear

y/n_stills. Love you 😘 @maxverstappen1

redbullracing you’ve signed the contract

y/n_stills. unfortunately :))

redbullracing excuse us?

y/n_stills. nothing ~ thanks for the snacks 😘

user1 y/n is continuing the beefing with motorteams saga 😭

schecoperez thanks y/n

y/n_stills. you are welcome checo 😇

danielricciardo the sarcasm is so nice 😇

maxverstappen1 you’re lucky you’re not here @danielricciardo

landonorris oh, are we bullying @y/n_stills.?

alexalbon another reason why I don’t regret leaving Redbull. 🫶

y/n_stills. I hate you all >:(( and @alexalbon? lily wants a word with you 😇

mclaren our drivers are well behaved 😇

y/n_stills. Im giving the fattest side eye. 👀

landonorris I am well behaved!

y/n_stills. This u?

landonorris … touché

danielricciardo what did I do??

y/n_stills. @danielricciardo fault by association

oscarpiastri but i’m good right? @y/n_stills

y/n_stills. You’re safe for now @oscarpiastri , little papaya… better watch your attitude 🤨

user4 y/n is not playing y’all HAHAHAHAH

user5 she ain’t holding back fr fr , the grid should watch their back 🤣

user6 everyone say thanks to y/n for giving us driver interactions.

user7 it’s great to see Redbull’s wacky side tbh~ they are not as evil as people make them to be .

user8 they literally instantly cut off their second drivers.

user9 @user8 woah thats statement is baseless, they do give them chances for the drivers to prove themselves… at the end of the day the goal is to win.

scuderiaferrari work for us again

y/n_stills. I don’t go back to my exes , sorry ☺️

user1 SIDE EYE

user2 did y/n really just 🫣

user3 THE TEA IS HOT , y/n your never escaping the rumors , girl.

mercedesamgf1 get it line! you already let her go once smh

user4 which ex 🤔 hmm ? Don’t be shy y/n , which ex.

y/n_stills. 10 mins

viewed by maxverstappen1 , charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 2,729,691 others

story replies

maxverstappen1 Thank you, Liebling! I love you 💙

y/n_stills. love you more 💙

maxverstappen1 lmao no.

y/n_stills. Emilian 🤨 Excuse you? Dafuk you mean , no?

maxverstappen1 no, because I love you more.

y/n_stills. Your love disgusts me 🙄

maxvestappen1 well then be ready to be disgusted for the rest of our lives.

y/n_stills. Woah wut?? Max?

y/n_stills. MAX?? Hello??? You don’t get to dip after that

y/n_stills. max max max max

y/n_stills. safe driving … luv u 💙

maxverstappen1 Love you more 💙

y/n_stills. ugh I hate you >:((

oscarpiastri make em chow their last ka-chow?

y/n_stills. You’re too young to understand top tier humor , oscar

oscarpiastri I’m literally 1 year younger than Lando and 3 years younger than you

y/n_stills. Yes and still a baby

oscarpiastri Wowwwww. Ghee and you’re old, mom

y/n_stills. Watch your mouth, young man 🤨🤨

oscarpiastri sorry mom

y/n_stills. That’s better! Good luck with qualifying ,little papaya 🧡 drive safe

oscarpiastri thank you 🧡

charles_leclerc seriously y/n , stop it

y/n_stills. seriously charles, move on.

charles_leclerc do you honestly not miss me at all?

y/n_stills. nope, so stop whatever you’re doing and be happy with what you have.

charles_leclerc you’re just confused

y/n_stills. Dude? You’re the one who’s confused . For the last time, leave me aloneeeeeee . I swear I’ll block you and file a restraining order.

f1wags

Liked by user1 , user2 , user3 and 168,281 others

f1wags Y/N L/N spotted with Victoria Verstappen today in the F1 Paddock! But the Red Bull Senior Designer is not in a Red Bull Uniform , I see. It looks like y/n is a full time wag today and she is off duty. Go support yo man, girl! 😏

Y/N L/N was a no show today at FP3 , which had fans curious and speculating of the photographer’s absence on the grid . But the curiosity of fans are quickly satisfied, as it was reported that y/n is indeed within the confines of the Red Bull motorhome offices , catering to her responsibilities to Red Bull. Nevertheless, she had shown support by posting congratulatory memes of the 2 Red Bull drivers on her instagram account.

Moreover, it looks like we will be in fact seeing more of y/n l/n but this time within the confines the Red Bull Garage; as a support of Max Verstappen and the whole Red Bull crew!

user1 it’s great to see that y/n takes her job seriously.

user2 we do love a boss bitch

user3 Red Bull had hit the home run with y/n fr fr

user4 a professional queen 🤍

user5 she supports Max both emotionally and professionally, we love to see it

user6 you know what I love the most? Right after her work , she said bye to the uniform

user7 I mean, no one can stop a fashion icon 😎

user8 she’s so extra , I love it HAHAHAHAH

user9 Im in love with her jacket! Someone please tell me where to get it pls pls

user10 Brunello Cucinelli … and the price hurts 😀

user 11 I always forget that they are literally loaded

“ So everybody , welcome back to Formula 1 . It’s a sunny day , no rain forecasted for today’s qualifying. Teams are stowing away their slicks and wet tires and our drivers are all at standby in their cars as they wait for the firsts qualifying session to officially start.”

“ I must say, Crofty . Our drivers are quite tense today during FP3, and even yesterday during the practice sessions; specially our drivers in red .The Ferrari Garage not particularly happy with Charles Leclerc’s rookie mistake during the 4th turn — almost causing a collision with his own teammate Carlos Sainz.”

“Ferrari was not having any of it! the drivers were called to pit instantly— was this another lapse in strategy? Or perhaps a driver error? I cannot tell, the issue was not brought up to the FIA… I mean it’s their own teammate. Very aggressive on Leclerc’s part, I might say”

“ And do you know who’s also driving aggressively during the free practices? Max Verstappen and Checo Perez — I believe that Christian Horner is loosening the reigns on his drivers. There were no radio calls to the drivers when both cars were given warnings for impeding Leclerc’s car during free practice 2 yesterday “

“ Also , another impending incident had also happened to Charles Leclerc, only this time it was by the Mclarens, By rookie Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris .They were also only left of with a warning by the FIA , as the both Mclaren were bound to enter the pits.”

“Wow , wow, The FIA is very lenient with the teams this Grand Prix… but what an unlucky session for Charles Leclerc, They could only hope that his chances in qualifying would be better”

“ First one to go out of the garage is the 7x Champion Lewis Hamilton , and not long after is George Russell. Both Mercedes are out of their garages and is waiting at pit-lane exit. Along with Fernando Alonzo’s Aston Martin.”

“And out goes Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari and Max Verstappen goes next, last year’s pole position and winner”

“Will he be able to do it again? Will Max Verstappen be able to grab another pole and another win?”

Max’s eyes never left the car infront of him , his gloved hands flexing on the Red Bull steering wheel. Body fueled with adrenaline

Mind zeroing on the red Ferrari, til the radio sound came on and the voice of GP sounded,

(Radio conversation are italicized)

; Max we are with you. Do what you need to do;

;Thanks guys, will do. I’ll keep it clean, tell checo I said thank you;

;Thanks Max, will relay your message to checo;

Max’s eyes came to view the Ferrari’s side mirror , to see Charles already looking at Him ; eyes glaring with rage. Max scoffed , lifting his visor — staring back with no fear nor regret.

“Oh, a radio from Max to his engineers, “say thank you to perez”. What could that mean?”

“And that starts the first qualifying session for this week’s Grand Prix!”

***

“ 17 minutes in Q1 and all cars are out of their garage with Lando Norris is currently leading and Piastri 0.100 seconds behind his team mate. 1 minutes left in Q1”

“Oohh! And Charles Leclerc spins out to the gravel… the wing might’ve taken some damage on that turn. It looks like the car is beached! Let’s look at it in another angle .Ferrari could only hope that Leclerc’s time will get him to Q2”

;MERDE!! THE CAR IS UNDERIVABLE!

; You’re pushing the car so recklessly!! Go back to the garage!;

;Fix this, Oversteers like shit…;

“ And that’s the checkered flag! Sargeant, Zhou, Magnussen, Hulkenburg and Ocon . And that is it for Haas and both Alphatauris are in q2! Leclerc barely making it! “

As Q1 had ended, both Red Bulls are called back to the garage and asses damages.

;That’s P3 , P3 , Max. Don’t push the car … let’s conserve the tires for now , Leclerc has been beached;

A scoff escaped Max’s lips.

;Copy;

Heat, sweat, the roar of the engine and enraged shouts filled the Ferrari garage. Charles Leclerc was seen in an argument with his engineers and mechanics — tension within one side of the garage grew rampant as the mechanics scramble to replace the front wing of the car.

Q2 was not any better for Ferrari, barely qualifying both drivers to Q3. Having everyone confused at the driver difference — as Sainz qualified in P4 while Leclerc qualifying P9.

“And welcome back to Formula 1 , We are starting Q3! Verstappen , Perez , Leclerc , Sainz, Norris, Piastri, Alonzo, Hamilton, Russell and Stroll battling for pole position”

“And that’s 12 minutes on the clock! And Half of the cars are on the circuit”

“ Hamilton sets the fastest 1st sector and 3rd sector , while Piastri sets the fastest 2nd sector!”

***

“And that is the checkered flag! The drivers have 1 one more lap for qualifying!”

“LECLERC TAKES THE FASTEST TIME! That’s P1, and Sainz crosses the line! That’s P2 and P3 for Oscar Piastri!— an amazing drive by the Ferraris!”

Everyone was tense at the red bull garage as they wait for Max to cross the finish line.

;Max , your currently in P7 , P7 , thats P7. You can do one last lap , send it Max;

;Copy, copy, where’s Leclerc?”

;Currently P1;

Max’s fingers flexed , a smirk growing in his face.

“Max makes the fastest 1st sector, and the 2nd sector…. and that’s the fastest 3rd sector!! And max crosses the checkered flag! ”

“AND THAT’S P1 FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN ! MAX TAKES POLE AGAIN! “

; What position was that?;

;That’s P1! P1! You got pole Max. Nice driving!;

; Amazing job everyone , let’s do well in the race;

“And that Qualifying! P1 for Max Verstappen, P2 for Charles Leclerc, and P3 for Carlos Sainz!”

The three drivers parked their cars to their respective places . The spaniard came rushing to hug Max , excitedly patting the Dutch driver’s back while the words “great driving” and chuckles were exchanged. The spanish driver parted from Max, then nudging the pole sitter towards the car of Charles .

The 1st Ferrari driver was getting out his car, clearly fuming. Max went near the Monegasque driver only to whisper “That’s for Y/n”, then moving away not once looking back.

“Max! Max! Congratulations on getting pole today! How does it feel to be in pole in this circuit again?“ Max went to answer the question

“Getting pole was amazing , specially this one… this holds a significant meaning to me personally.Today had been great , the car was amazing to drive ; and the team was as cooperative as ever.”

“Also Max, People had noticed that you were particularly motivated today? Is there a particular reason for that?”

“Well it’s always a motivation to win for the team , for all their hard work and all the time they spent making sure that the car was to its best. Also my friends and family are here to support… and of course my girlfriend who’s in the garage cheering me on right now”

Max answered smoothly with a practiced smile , as Leclerc was fuming from his peripheral vision.

“Ah ,of course! Y/N! A dear friend of ours here at Sky Sports! And lastly , any words for tomorrow’s race , Max?”

“Winning is always the goal , so yeah , We will try our best to keep the adding wins to the record. Thank you”

Max turned his back to the camera , handing the microphone to the Monegasque Ferrari driver — a face splitting derisive grin plastered on his face further infuriating the Ferrari driver.

“Thank you Max! We now have Charles Leclerc here with us! So Charles, how does P2 feel?”

Charles wanted nothing more than to storm out and leave the interview , as his face grew redder by the second .

“Well , its not better than pole. To be honest I’m very disappointed with the results.”

“Still an amazing effort for the team! That’s P2 for you and P3 from your teammate, right? Basing from the previous races, Ferrari had brought serious upgrades”

“Yes , but it is not enough for pole. But we will do our outmost best to beat Red Bull in tomorrow’s race. That I am sure. Thank you” and with that Charles went storming back to the Ferrari garage

“Oh! Uhm.. thanks Charles! Next we have another Ferrari Driver, Carlos Sainz on P3! So how do the upgrades feel Carlos?”

“I personally thought that the car was great compared to the last car during the last Grand Prix… the upgrades worked. We are very far from the Red Bull level of machinery, but we are getting there ….”

y/n_stills.

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri , and 728,627 others

y/n_stills. Another pole for you , love! Amazing driving as usual. Couldn’t be prouder 💙

P.s you didn’t have to show off, just because I’m here 🙄

tagged : @maxvertappen1

maxverstappen1: I mean that pole was for you :))

y/n_stills. 🥺🥺🥺

redbullracing a motivated Max is a scary Max

y/n_stills. Boy you said it 🥵

maxverstappen1 🫣🫣🫣

landonorris ew, keep it in your pants

y/n_stills. go cry somewhere else , norris ~ we are happy here.

comments are limited

—SPORTS HUB DAILY—Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc sparks fire within the Ferrari Garage

Article by Joseph Bens

Ferrari Driver Charles Leclerc was seen to be having a heated argument with his team, despite qualifying 2nd for the race this Sunday. The team statement was that they are happy with both of their drivers’ performances during the qualifying. According to Sainz , the car was very pliable and relatively easy to handle— and so we can rule out Leclerc having major issues with the car.

The Monegasque was reported to be unusually touchy and erratic based on fan reports as he was very adamant not to sign merchandise and interact with fans. The usually friendly driver was then seen storming off the circuit with alleged girlfriend scurrying in tow .

An inside source had tipped that an scuffle had happened between the drivers last Thursday, after the driver press conference , between Leclerc and Verstappen . The details of the fight were unknown, but it was said that Verstappen came storming out of the room — followed by Daniel Ricciardo, Oscar Piastri and a bloodied Charles Leclerc. The FIA not taking action as the incident was said to be just that, an incident and the drivers involved has refused to release a statement.

The Red Bull driver and the Ferrari driver are bringing heat on and off track! And we cannot wait for it to unfold. Tomorrow’s race would be one to watch indeed!

———

——— F1 Breaking ———

Ferrari appeals for FIA investigation towards Red Bull Racing and McLaren Racing for Impeding and possible brake checks

[rivet77]

Meditation used to be a practice that always confounded me, if I'm being honest. I would set a timer, close my eyes, focus on breathing fully & naturally through my nose, and it would feel like I'm attempting to stop a speeding train. My body would *fight* me, going "you can't stop, you have shit to do, you have things to worry about, how long as it been, surely the timer is getting close to being done, maybe you should check." Practically vibrating in my seat. My eyes would twitch. My body would itch. I'd literally be able to feel my heart squirming uncomfortably in my chest on every inhale. Every cell in my body would want me to stop, and prior to the last few months, I absolutely would have stopped!

Instead, I pushed through it. Insisted on holding the brakes down until I fully stopped, no matter how much the train wanted to keep going. I'd ask myself "why am I so uncomfortable" and start "scanning" my body, going through each part and intentionally relaxing it.

As this process goes on, eventually the breathing pattern stops feeling forced. The air begins to feel much like a drink of water when I'm thirsty, nourishing me, and it feels *good.* My thoughts happen, but I'm only observing them. I watch the lights & patterns on the back of my eyelids, no longer feeling my heart pounding against my chest, and I begin to feel an odd, almost... serene sensation above my eyes. As if a heavenly room opened up in my brain; where observations, ideas, and more come to me without much effort at all. It feels almost as if you're on the very edge of sleeping, without falling asleep. Before I knew it, the timer was going off. That's when it clicked. That's the meditative state I've been looking for.

Ever since I've been practicing it more and more. It's never anything long; I started with ten minutes, then fifteen, and I did twenty for awhile. It doesn't sound like a lot, but when you're sitting with your eyes closed, doing nothing, it can feel like forever (before you hit that meditative state, that is). Fifteen minutes is my sweet spot now, and by simply remembering the feeling of that meditative state, I'm able to reach it pretty quickly in those fifteen minutes. Before, i would spend most of the time trying to get there, but it's gotten much easier, and I almost always feel so much more clear and calm afterwards.

So yeah. If meditation has ever been a problem for you, just know that if you haven't practiced it, you're going to be stopping a moving train when you try. You need to keep holding down the brakes until it stops, or it will just keep accelerating. It'll be uncomfortable, and you'll need to learn to sit with the discomfort, feel it, and let it pass. What I found beyond that is 100% worth it

[severalforraelee]

Brother’s Rival: Prove It Short Story

Prompt: Hey can you please do a request w max verstappen where the reader and him are married and their teenage daughter wants to go on a date but Max is super overprotective please ❤️

Written by raelee / posted May 21

Word count: 1274

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

Prove It Masterlist

We watch through the links of the fence as Keagan gets out of his kart, removing his helmet and balaclava, turning towards Laurent Leclerc, and shoots daggers at him, in my opinion, in a petty manner.

“Laurent’s not going to like that look,” Rowan comments. The rivalry between a Verstappen and a Leclerc has continued to this generation- although it’s not as friendly as Charles’ and Max’s.

“He shouldn’t have braked so soon, then,” Max responds. No matter what, even if they are clearly to blame, Max will defend his kids.

They could be standing outside of a bank with a bag of cash in their hand and Max would be asking the bank why they don’t secure their money more safely.

“He would’ve run into the debris from the crash earlier, otherwise,” Rowan replies.

“Well his engineer should’ve told him about it sooner,” Avery pipes up.

Avery Verstappen, with looks just like her mother and brains just like her father. Both of which can get her in trouble from time to time.

“Uncle Charles would not be happy hearing you talk like that, Avery,” I remind her.

“Neither would Laurent,” Rowan smiles smugly at her. She reaches across me and her dad, punching him squarely on the arm. He whines to himself, rubbing the bruised area.

It’s a known fact that Laurent has a crush on Avery. From the way that he blushes whenever he sees her to the way that he stutters whenever he speaks to her, it’s been common knowledge for years. But because of the battle between Charles and Max and now Laurent and her brother, Avery refuses to even entertain the thought of dating Laurent.

Plus he would have to work up the nerve to even utter the words ‘Will you go on a date with me?’ Which currently seems impossible.

“Keagan would,” Max grins at his daughter.

I roll my eyes at the interaction. With the mentality being so similar between the two, Max and Avery will encourage each other to do anything that they think is a good idea.

Key word: they.

We wait for Keagan to get cleaned up and talk to the media before coming over to us.

“Good job today, buddy,” Max tells his son. He always makes sure to tell him those words, because his father never did.

“I crashed out, dad,” Keagan sighs. I reach out, rubbing the back of his neck comfortingly.

“Yeah, but that was Laurent’s fault, too.”

I roll my eyes. Typical of Max to suggest taking partial blame and shoving the other part onto someone else.

“I’m going to go grab a water bottle,” Avery informs us, shoving her two brothers on the way to the paddock.

Rowan glares at his sister’s back as she walks away and Keagan scoffs at the action.

“Don’t instigate her next time,” Max warns them.

“We were literally just standing here.”

Twenty minutes later, Avery still hasn’t returned from grabbing a water bottle. And the boys are getting impatient. And by boys, I mean all of them.

“Where is she? I told the boys that I would sim with them tonight,” Max switches from foot to foot, restlessly checking his watch.

“I’ll go check,” I inform them, leaning up to kiss my husband on the cheek before rolling my eyes at his behavior, walking towards the paddock to find my teenage daughter.

As I turn the corner, I hear familiar voices extremely close by. Once I catch sight of Avery and Laurent chatting with each other- closely, might I add- I duck back behind the wall. My head peaks around the corner to see if they noticed me. Luckily, they didn’t.

The two stand approximately a foot apart. Laurent looks down at Avery with a look of adoration. Avery is looking up at Laurent, twirling her Y/H/C hair around her index finger as she bats her eyelashes at him.

That’s a look that I’m all too familiar with.

It’s the look that I give Max when I want something.

“Hey babe, did you find-”And if I recognize that look, so will Max. I whirl around, pressing my hands onto Max’s chest to keep him from moving forwards.

“Oh, I don’t think she’s over here, she must’ve gone-””What are you talking about? She’s right there- oh.” Rowan stops speaking once he notices the situation that Avery and Laurent are in.

“What?” Max moves forward despite my protests, turning the corner.

“Avery Zandvoort Verstappen,” Max exclaims once he sees the pair.

“You’re named after a racetrack?” Laurent murmurs to her.

“My mom lost a bet.”

“Just what do you think that you’re doing?”

“Flirting with Laurent Leclerc, that’s what,” Keagan narrows his eyes at his sister.

She glares back at him.

It all makes sense now. Laurent exhibits his crush towards Avery through his shyness, but Avery acts the complete opposite towards him. She’s always seeking him out, wanting to talk to him about this or that. She has a crush on him too.

“Mr. Verstappen, I was actually going to try to find you later,” Laurent states.

Max raises his eyebrows at him. “And why’s that?”

“I think that your daughter is absolutely marvelous-””You think? You don’t know?”

I nudge Max in his side, giving him a hint to take it easy.

“No, no, I know, sir,” Charles’ son doesn’t skip a beat, though. “I was wondering if I had your permission to take your daughter out on a date.”

“Absolutely not,” Keagan says at the same time Avery asks, “Excuse me?”

Laurent looks between the two siblings in horror. Rowan leans against the brick wall next to us, watching the situation play out with sparkling amused eyes.

“You just caused my race to end,” Keagan says in disbelief. “And now you’re asking my sister out on a date?”

“Okay, I did not cause your race to end-””You’re going to ask my dad permission to take me out on a date? What is this, the 1950s?” Avery interrupts Laurent.

“No, I just know that you’re close with your family-””And why just my dad? My mom raised me, too. Actually, my mom was there more than my dad because of his job.”

“You’re completely right,” Laurent agrees, turning towards me. “Mrs. Verstappen, do I have your permission to take Avery out on a date?”

“You do, Laurent,” I smile at him kindly.

“Mr. Verstappen, do I have your permission to take Avery out on a date?”

I squeeze Max’s arm tightly, reminding him to be nice to the poor kid.

“Fine, just one date,” he grumbles.

“Um, aren’t you going to ask her brothers for permission?” Keagan raises his eyebrows.

Laurent opens his mouth, then closes it. It’s clear that he doesn't know what to say or do.

“You’re alright, Laurent,” Rowan shrugs with a charming grin.

“Well my answer is no,” Keagan snaps.

“Keagan-””I mean, seriously, Avery, he ends your brother’s race and then you’re going to go on a date with the guy? Stop being so stupid,” Keagan interrupts his younger sister.

Before me or Max can step in, Laurent surprisingly does. “That’s enough, Keagan, I’m not going to stand here and allow you to treat Avery that way. You know that she’s not dumb. She’s the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful girl that I have ever met. Treat her like she is.”

We all pause, looking between Keagan and Laurent for movement as they have a staredown. Finally, Keagan grins, reaching out to shake Laurent’s hand. Laurent shakes his hand unsurely.

“You’ll treat her right with that mentality. Welcome to the family, Laurent.”

[dizzyduck44]

A week on from Miami 🌴☀️🏎️

Let’s talk about how that may have been the most significant race week in about a year and a half. And no it’s not because I’m a Lando fan.

McLaren’s upgrades

Ok first we heard they won’t be significant, then Lando got given virtually a new car! Then we are told that what Oscar has is worth 2 tenths, what Lando has 4 tenths. Seems pie in the sky until Lando started sprint quali on medium tyres and suddenly it wasn’t bullshit! Lando won the main race and only lost fastest lap to his teammate. That car has pace and the drivers to unlock it. Also consider Lando won his first Grand Prix with a car he wasn’t happy about the setup on. There is more to come from that car. By the end of the weekend McLaren had fighting talk. They expect to be in the Championship mix before 2025 if not before.

Aston said they would, McLaren just knuckled down and did it!

Ferrari seem to be checking the wrong things!

Another weekend, another he pushed me/he gave me no room incident between the scarlet teammates. In the main race by lap 6 there is the usual squabble of let me try and pass (insert driver here) if my teammate can’t. Thing is around lap 10 Lando got a message telling him he was saving his tyres better than Oscar and the two Ferraris. So consumed with the fight to go forward, they forgot to look behind them and left the door open for Lando. Ferrari you have the car, the drivers, the knowledge. Just engage your brains. Right now there is a chance for Red Bulls to have mirrors full of scarlet and papaya. Don’t fuck it up!!

Fingers crossed the Imola upgrade package steps them forward as McLaren has done.

VisaCashapp RB’s, the paint job wasn’t the only thing with impact

Daniel’s first points in the sprint and another solid weekend and points in the main race again for Yuki show that their upgrades work. If Aston continue to flounder this is the team to watch step out of the “also ran” pack. Quietly just getting on with it.

Red Bull lost its vavavoom?

Not even sure where to start with this. Sprint race, no surprises. Quali, more of the same. Race, well. The Red Bull dominance is boring, because we have seen Max gets podiums with half a floor or a hole in his side pod. The RBs are the cockroach of the grid, unkillable. Bleeding every last bit of hope out of the other teams.

So the idea that floor damage meant Max couldn’t keep up with Lando after the safety car and that Checo never really looked in danger of a podium from the first corner is difficult to understand. Max complained about that car ALL weekend. Yes there are upgrades coming but to see the Red Bull not just hit hyper mode and check out was new.

Which leads me to my point why this was so important. This season is far more open than any we have seen for a while. After the 21 from 22 Red Bull show last year, they have already missed out on two wins this season. One due to a brake failure (see earlier cockroach comment) and another to an apparent lack of pace. (Where’d the pace go?)

More importantly two other teams have already taken the top step this year. Two teams that are showing the capability to fight back at last. I fully expect to see at least 7 different race winners this year.

And with Lando now a Grand Prix winner, can we all agree that with a decent midfield car, Yuki is in fact the most underrated driver on the grid and has been for sometime?

[shunshunrika]

Angst 10 + Fluff 2 + Fluff 8 + Kaiser

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ JAMAIS VU - Michael Kaiser

warnings - ANGST!! Depiction of car accident, blood, hospitals, swearing, etc.

The sound of deafening sirens, strobing red lights and the screams were overwhelming your brain.

Your hands were on the steering wheel and your eyes were on the road. You were wide awake and absolutely alert, even when listening to Kaiser softly ramble about his day at practice. Your eyes were on the road. Then how did it happen so quickly?

Kaiser had offered to drive home but since you were a new driver and needed practice, you had pushed to be the designated driver. You followed all the rules, were paying attention to all parts of the road and yet, when a semi-truck blasted towards you, possibly due to a brake failure - there was nothing you could do. You couldn't react fast enough. You couldn't move out of its way.

CRASHHH!

The sound of metal crushing metal was so thunderous that you weren't able to process anything before the airbags kicked in and smothered you in your seat. It was silent for a second when you felt the sensation of a heavy body weighing down on you and quickly scrambled to open the car door and crawl out on all fours. Your heart was beating so fast as you saw people run towards the scene of the accident and help you to your feet.

"Mi-Michael?" you asked, turning around to see if anyone knew anything.

"Call the police and the ambulance!" Someone yelled over the crowd.

You fought your way out of their arms to search for Kaiser. You couldn't spot him anywhere near the car until - your eyes fell on a bloodied mass laying underneath two gigantic slabs of car metal. You blacked out after that.

The sterile smell of a hospital room woke you after God knows how long. You lay in the bed, your body aching terribly, eyes wide awake. You jerked up out of your position and were just about to scream when a nurse caught you.

"Michael!? Where's Michael?" You shrieked, trying to escape the nurse's grasp.

"Ma'am-" the nurse grit her teeth. "Calm down. The man who was with you is currently resting. He survived and is stable."

He survived.

"Okay." you say, taking a deep breath and calming yourself down. "Can I see him?"

The nurse hesitated a bit. Bad sign.

"Show me. Take me there." you demanded upon receiving that reaction. The nurse reluctantly helped you to your feet and started guiding you down a lobby and two floors down. You were soon in front of the suites marked "Special Unit"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm." the nurse insisted yet your heart wouldn't calm down. You opened the door slowly to see a figure propped up on the bed.

It was Kaiser. He was staring out the window, sitting under a blanket. He looked alright except for some bruises and cuts here and there. He didn't notice any of you come in. Or maybe he did but had no intention to look in your direction.

"Michael?" you asked tenderly, stepping towards him. He looked towards you with glassy blue eyes that bore absolutely no emotion.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

"W-what's wrong? I came to see how you are doing?" you said maintaining your composure but gulping down a big lump.

"Hmm." Kaiser thought for a bit. Maybe he was fine. Maybe he was just tired.

"My legs are completely crushed."

Huh?

"The doctor said I might not be able to walk, let alone play again."

What?

You must have started losing your balance because the nurse immediately moved to catch you.

"M-Michael what are you talking about?" you managed to say, your stomach dropping so low, as if you were about to throw up.

"Didn't you hear me the first time?" Michael said, smiling menacingly, looking like he was about to breakdown.

"I CAN'T PLAY ANYMORE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he shrieked making you flinch.

"W-wait. Michael. I-That's not it. Maybe-"

"I should have never let you drive. I told you to let me. This is all your fault!"

"Michael, maybe we can consult another doctor. Maybe we can fly out to another country to try. We have the money for that-"

“Nothing you do will fix things; no amount of money will turn back time.” he hissed through his clenched up jaw.

"Get out of my sight." He spat. "I never want to see your face again."

When you heard those words, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The room started to swirl around you, and you didn't know if you were going to pass out. The shock was so severe that you were thrown out of this scene, Michael and the nurse becoming blobs until they disappeared into the void.

"Hah.. N-no!" you found yourself gasping for air as you woke up, drenched in sweat.

"Y/N." Michael was right beside you, holding your forehead and looking extremely concerned.

"MICHAEL!" you yelled out, hugging him by the neck and making him fall on top of you.

"I am sorry. I am sorry!" you pleaded. "Don't go. Don't leave me. I- We will do something about your legs. So please, don't say you hate me!"

"Y/N!" Michael yelled back. "What's wrong? What happened? You were asleep!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you were mumbling at first and then you started tossing and turning." he said, rubbing your back to calm you down. His blue eyes bore concern, stark comparison to the emotionless orbs you saw in the dream.

"Your legs!"

"What happened to them?" he asked, confused.

"I crashed the car. Your legs got crushed. They said you'd never walk again." you said between gasps and sobs.

“Shhh, it was just a bad dream. It’s okay, baby.” he said, caressing your hair to calm you down. It helped to some degree.

"Michael-" you began. "Never let me drive when I'm with you okay? What if this is an omen?"

"You kidding?" Michael scoffed. "You think a nervous perfectionist like you would ever make a mistake on the road? You've never even driven one mile over the speed limit. If something happens, it's the other person's fault."

"No! You'll say that and then- then-" you gulped. "In the dream, you said you never wanted to see me again. You hated me!"

"I can never hate you Y/N." he said, kissing your forehead.

"And my destiny is to be the best striker in the world. I ain't losing my legs before that, got it? I reject the notion." he said, smirking at you, making you giggle a little.

“Stay with me, please." you said, cupping his cheek.

"Forever." he said, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

[astermath]

hey aster, happy 1k!!! love your work and you fully deserve all the love💗💗

so i’m sending in a prompt from idiots to lovers (“you’re so cute.” “what did you just say?” “i said you look like a boot.”) for robin buckley because this literally SCREAMS her

aww tysm that’s so sweet, hope you enjoy and ty for sending in a request! <3

♡ aster's 1K celebration ♡

wc: 0.9K

tags: lovestruck robin, crushing, fem!reader (duh), just some pining lol, not rlly proofread! normal sized font below

Robin is a girl that tends to fall hopelessly in love. She can’t simply have a crush, or think someone is cute, no, she always falls head over heels, straight into a vat of hearts and sappy confessions.

And usually that’s fine, that works for her. Her crushes give her a reason to go to school, to get stuff done, to put extra effort into her appearance. But she tends to admire from a distance. She knows how much she talks, and how hard it is to stop talking too.

That’s why she usually just sticks to looking at you from a distance, cheek leaning against the palm of her hand as she daydreams about the dates you could go on. In the timeline where she musters up the courage to talk to you.

But it seems that the universe has other plans. The universe being your English teacher, and the plans being a duo project about a country of your choosing.

You couldn’t choose your groups, which you didn’t mind, you could work with just about anyone. You’re smart, you could probably do this whole thing by yourself.

But to Robin, this was a huge deal. She’d never even talked to you before, besides the one time she had to apologise for bumping into you in the hallway. She still dreams about that interaction.

And now she’s gone for embarrassingly daydreaming about you to sitting in your room, surrounded by books about Italy, writing down interesting facts and discussing the order of the presentation.

But her mind is only halfway there. It’s hard to focus on wine, Rome, and pasta when you’re sitting right in front of her like this. The sunlight coming through the window is hitting your skin just right, she can smell your perfume, and your PJ shorts are the cutest she’s ever seen.

“So, do you have anything to add, or can I start writing out my part of the presentation already?”

“You look so cute.” The words leave her lips before they can even register in her own brain. It’s like her body has decided it needs to tell you how adorable you look, without her mind being able to pull the brakes at all.

You look up, quirking an eyebrow, clearly confused by what you’ve heard. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Ah! I, uh—“ She sits up straighter, her eyes averting to the papers scattered in front of her, cheeks tinging pink from embarrassment. She’s not great at coming up with excuses, but she doesn’t exactly have a choice right now.

“I said you uh… You look like a boot.”

Shit.

She could have slapped herself right then and there.

'Seriously, Buckley? A boot? That’s the best thing you could come up with? Not fruit, or something else nice?'

“Oh,” You look up, scratching the back of your neck for a moment. “Well, like a nice boot?”

“What qualifies as a nice boot?”

“I don’t know,” you smile, leaning backwards onto your hands. “I like cowboy boots. And gogo boots are cute too.”

“Huh. I see.” She tries not to make it seem like a big deal, but she enjoys learning small things like this about you.

A few moments pass, and she’s already got her nose shoved back into a book while you try to write down a good introduction.

“Did you actually have something to add though?” You ask, looking up from your paper.

“To the presentation?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I don‘t know.” She puts the book down, thinking it over for a moment. “Maybe that the word America comes from the Italian language?”

"Huh, seriously? That's really cool." You smile, and it makes the blood rush straight to her cheeks again. You're already noting it down under the 'fun facts' section of the presentation, your pen scribbling away as Robin tries to compose herself.

"Yeah, uh, Vespucci came up with it. Italian explorer." She fiddles with the bit of frayed fabric at the hem of her shirt to keep her hands busy.

"You're really smart, aren't you?" You flash her another smile, and she thinks it actually might kill her this time. There's no way someone could look this pretty.

"Oh, uhm... I-- I guess." She chuckles bashfully. "You're pretty smart too, though. You always know the answers to like, every question in class. Even though you never raise your hand."

You grin, knowing damn well that's out of pure laziness and not shyness at all. "Yeah, I guess so. 'M glad I got stuck with you on this assignment though. You're full of interesting facts, Buckley."

She smiles, averting her eyes in hopes of not looking like the complete lovestruck fool she is. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll teach you some Italian here and there too."

"Wait-- you speak Italian?" You sit up straight, eyes practically sparkling after finding out this new juicy bit of information.

"Well, only halfway so, but I like learning languages. Keeps the brain juicy, you know?"

You chuckle at that, leaning your elbows onto your knees and letting your cheeks rest on your palms. "You're somethin' else, you know that Buckley?"

"You're one to talk."

"Well, you did say I looked like a boot. I guess that counts as 'something else'."

The both of you start laughing, and suddenly she doesn't feel so bad about her slipup from earlier anymore. Or this project. Bless the universe for putting her in your room that day.

-

-

-

[ambrosia-ghostie]

i am so upset.

here are my real-time thoughts from tua series finale, i guess:

- is gun control not a thing in this timeline? jeez

- i don’t even know where i’d get a gun lmao

- this is giving MAGA… yikes

- i love meghan so much. national treasure. AND she can sing. EGOT, please.

- lila isn’t the only one hiding stuff from her husband 👀

- diego talking about lila with a new lease on life 🥺

- awh this is very “it’s a wonderful life”

- lila’s family is fab. the spinoff we need.

- i love how many actors get to perform as other actors performing another role on this show

- the whistle !!! call him out dr. jean !!!

- THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY

- dr. jean deserved better !!! 😭

- i love the fast food lady (featured extra). she understood the assignment.

- “it smells so nice in here!” why are me and klaus the same person but completely different?

- call back to viktor drawing the umbrella tattoo as a kid !!!

- holy shit, ben is the fly

- body horror is so cool

- oh hey! they’re seeing each other and it’s neither a wedding nor a funeral

- klaus still eating because he deserves it - just give him all the nourishment, please

- why do they always wait to tell each other the most important thing ??? one brain cell - i stg

- “not during christmas” - oh, diego. for those of us with chaotic families, it’s always on christmas

- klaus scooping up five’s empty seat is such big family/sibling energy

- “i didn’t see that one coming!” klaus, luther, and allison look just as confused as i still am

- THIS IS SO WEIRD AND RANDOM

- LITTLE GRACE NOOOO

- time travel is wild. five was right in s1 - i am not smart enough for it.

- “do you love him?” 🥺

- cronenberg would love this. i wonder how much of the virus effect is practical vs. cgi

- klaus’s clothes make a lot more sense for the final showdown since he probably borrowed from one of lila’s relatives

- luther’s borrowed clothing is a bit too luther to be believably borrowed tho

- this is my favorite van 🚐 set piece since little miss sunshine

- allison pulling the emergency brake is the ultimate mom arm 💪

- i too, like five, always end up in the subway (as a new yorker)

- oh shit, i just realized that no one probably told klaus how ben really died - ugh

- but, you know what, allison probably didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy with more trauma so i’ll let the lack of communication slide this time

- “i can fly now! oh it hurts”

- aim for the tanks… like jaws… the… 🦈 ?

- sigh, five and diego beef is just really not necessary - i’m annoyed

- “my hand is stuck in its ass” !!!

- FIVE AND DIEGO STOP THIS NONSENSE

- WHO CARES ??? this romance is not that important, dude. you’ve been trying to save your family for decades, my guy 😭

- oh damn - is five going to find the right subway station now?

- if they all forget everything like fucking dorothy in kansas, i’m going to be so mad

- holy shit - PET CEMETARY, but like PET SEMETERY !!! you can’t bring someone back, not really… that’s the show 😭

- netflix loves their stephen king

- this is also the lesson in 11/22/63… JFK… yeah

- i could write a thesis on this rn

- we got our coffee shop AU ?!?!

- can i be “cheesecake five”?

- oh… oh no

- THE COMMISSION! THE FOUNDER! AHHHH

- no no no

- don’t make my children not exist 😭

- THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR

- i’m sobbing… out of hurt and anger, tbh

- the children/family are on the lifeboats 💔

….

….

…

i’m not going to be ok for a while

klaus didn’t find out how ben died ???

wouldn’t ghost ben have been able to tell him ???

they really did borrow from stephen king because the alien reginald plot was pointless (i’m looking at you, under the dome)

all in all, i’m glad i got to spend time with these characters… we could have gotten even fewer seasons based on how netflix operates. but this ending could have been written/executed so much better.

i would have even smiled if the last scene was with everyone in the void. but no. we get the original ending of the little mermaid with the marigolds instead of sea foam 😫

there were parts of it i did like - especially the cleanse - but i feel like we all deserved better…

i dedicate this post to the memory of dave, sissy, ray, and every other beautiful character who ultimately became disposable. 💔

[rythmicjea]

Everywhere Has Valet!

A Riverdale microfiction based on the February writing prompt "Driving License" by @angelilacs

Jughead kept one hand on the dash and one hand on the back of his chair as Veronica slammed on the break for the fifteen-thousandth time. It was the only way to keep his neck from breaking. How was she so bad at this?! "I think I'm gonna be sick…" It was worse than the Tilt-o-Whirl at Coney Island!

"You're doing great, V!" Betty cried out. She jabbed Archie in the side. "Tell her she's doing great," she said through a gritted smile.

The redhead rubbed at his side. "Swell, Ronnie!" He whispered over to Betty, "why did we have to use my hot rod again?"

"Because Jughead only has his dad's motorcycle," she reminded. "Do you really want to see her try and drive that monstrosity?"

"I'm afraid she's going to break something!"

"She'll be fine!" Betty hissed.

"Are they talking about me?" Veronica asked anxiously to Jughead. "What are they saying about me?" This time when she slammed on the break it was to make a point.

"Ow!" Jughead rubbed at his forehead when it hit the rim of the windshield. This was getting ridiculous. She was never going to get her driver's license at this pace. "Veronica, just take your foot off the break and lightly put it on the throttle."

"But what if it goes out of control?!" She shrilled.

"It doesn't go over 25 and it's got a steel frame, you'll be fine. Maybe we should practice your parallel parking."

"What's the point? Everywhere you go has Valet!"

Betty's brain itched at Veronica's claim. Where had she heard that before? A radio program? Or a book? Had to be because the images she was picturing was of a blonde girl whose hair was uncoifed and was swept back by the breeze. And it was in color.

Veronica slowly took her foot off the break, letting the car begin to roll forward in the parking lot. Something about this felt familiar and not because she'd been attempting it for the thousandth time. There was a tickle at the back of her head that whispered something about a Halloween mask and a little black sports car. The right hand turn to circle the green was coming up and she could feel her confidence building.

"Veronica, you know I love you, but Riverdale isn't LA."

Just before she was about to slide the wheel to make her turn the weight of what he said hit her like a ton of bricks and so did her foot on the brake. Jughead was propelled forward and he hit his head on the windshield rim causing his neck to whip back. "OW! FUCK!"

Throwing the car into park she whirled around to him. "What did you just say?"

"Ow my neck…" He rubbed the back of it feeling deja vu. "I said it's Riverdale, not LA. Valet parking doesn't exist here."

"No, before that! The-the-the love part?"

Betty and Archie ran up to the car to make sure their friends were okay when they heard the last bit of the conversation. Betty pulled Archie back a few steps to give them some privacy. This was definitely not a moment they should be apart of.

It took the brunette a moment to get his faculties back and he inwardly chastised himself. "Yeah… I guess I did…?" That wasn't how he meant for it to come out. He had a whole plan! He was going to buy her her favorite flowers, even though they were out of season; and, cook her her favorite meal, from her favorite restaurant (The Brown Derby). She deserved the world and not some sentiment thrown out casually to win an argument.

But, Veronica had other plans. She didn't care how he said it. Just that he did. And his face was in her hands and she was kissing him soundly. "I love you too, Jughead!"

"Yowza!!" He cried, his ear-to-ear smile matching hers. And as he kissed her again, he forgot about their audience. Who would have thought the perfect place to profess his love was in the school parking lot being beat up by his girlfriend's lead foot?

The adrenaline of the moment quickly dissipated as the pain in his neck came flaring back. "I really think I need to go to the hospital. You might have given me whiplash."

"Right-o!" Veronica exclaimed. "I'll drive!"

"NO!" Jughead, Betty, and Archie screamed at once.

[vvatchword]

Slow Drive

Delta couldn’t get in the car. Instead, he walked beside it as Sinclair slowly drove out to the edge of town. Sinclair kept the window down and didn’t speak at first. The Sisters followed alongside, Eleanor sobbing uncontrollably. Every now and then Delta felt her questing thoughts probing at the edges of his mind before she jerked back. The other Sisters didn’t stop her—perhaps there was some sense that he was hers—and this alone rankled.

They could have stopped her, couldn’t they? And they didn’t. They let her just slide into his skull anytime she liked. Not even Cecilia said anything about it, and Cecilia always seemed to read him better than anyone else.

“So, chief,” Sinclair said, somewhere around the ten-minute mark.

Delta bristled, waiting for the inevitable.

“What kind of TV do you watch these days?”

Delta squinted in at him. Sinclair was keeping his eyes on the road. Had he always looked this old? Delta could see a reflection of his face in the glass and tried to gauge his own age. Taut skin, dark hair, no age spots. Thirties, perhaps? He hadn’t aged while he’d been dead. That seemed right.

“Do you watch TV?” Sinclair asked. “Or do you still listen to the radio?”

Delta shrugged. Sinclair took a moment to wave at another driver, who was gaping at Delta without any shame at all. They were so busy gawking that they went over the curb; in a squeal of rubber, they slammed on their brakes and smashed into a post-office box.

“You liked adventure serials, last I remember,” Sinclair said. He snapped his fingers. “You loved adventure films.”

Why had Delta wanted this, again? There was something horrible about having someone with power over you, but the kind where someone knew more about you than you did about yourself was a torture past reckoning! It was true, wasn’t it—that he was just a big kid stuck in this monster body? Maybe it was right that a girl half his age ordered him around.

“You’re lookin’ pretty down in the mouth,” Sinclair said. “Now, honey, I promise you nothing is going to happen outside the pale. All right? No lock-ups. Nothing you don’t ask for. Just a warm meal and a drink and some entertainment. Maybe a smoke. You still like cigars?”

“I’m never free,” Delta said at last. “I never get to go where I want. Even in my dreams I don’t go where I want.”

Sinclair grimaced. “Juan, honey.”

He said it low, so quietly that it could have been lost.

“I’m so tired,” Delta said. “Nobody loves me.”

Sinclair hissed through his teeth. “That’s not true. Why, look at that girl crying over there. She loves you more than life itself.”

“She wants to order me around. She doesn’t listen to me.”

“Well, that’s teenagers for you.” Sinclair laughed. “She’s starting to realize she can make decisions of her own, that’s all. She just doesn’t know where she needs to stop. No, you’re right to put your foot down. You have a right to your own life. You know what your problem is, chief?”

Delta shook his head.

“The problem is that you’re just a big softy. You get thrown into this world outside Rapture and you have to learn all its rules again. You feel off-balance. You deal with it by trying to make everyone your friend. You know how that makes me laugh?”

Delta glanced up, brows knit together. Sinclair was grinning at him like they were sharing a big joke.

“All the best scientists of the world stirred your brain up like a soup, but they couldn’t get rid of you. Back when I knew you, the minute you figured out you couldn’t make friends, you’d run for it. And here you are, over a decade later, running from your problems—like clockwork.”

Delta drooped, rubbed at his face. There was a pressure starting in the back of his mind. The memories were going to come back. He could feel it. He’d end up rocking back and forth in Sinclair’s back yard next.

“Now, what’s sad about that?” Sinclair asked. “I thought it might make you happy to realize you’re not some machine. No, you’re John Barton. You’re a hell of a worker and a good man. Many went through Rapture and came out unspeakable. You went through and became something better. Who else has done it?”

“I killed people,” Delta said. “I’m not better.”

“You had no choice. Better than those of us who did.”

Sinclair’s face had become stern. He was looking in his rearview mirror.

“Looks like ol’ Jack there is going to keep an eye on us,” he said. “Wouldn’t doubt he’s had us all figured out for weeks now. I wonder how long he’s been looking for us.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Delta asked.

“No reason to doubt him. You two do have the same problem, all things considered.”

“What does he want with me?”

“What’d he ask you for?”

“He wanted to see Tenenbaum. That’s all.”

“Then why go to you, honey?” Sinclair asked gently. “If he needs Brigid, he should go to Brigid.”

“I’m not stupid.” Delta’s hand movements were choppy.

“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying you are a little too eager for friendship, though.”

“I have no friends.”

“Good god, John, that’s an outright lie, and frankly, I’m a bit hurt. Do you not consider me a friend?”

Delta thought about apologizing. He decided not to. Instead, he asked, “Do you think he likes me?”

Sinclair laughed. “Now, what kind of a question is that?”

“He saved me from the police. He knows what it’s like to be me.”

“So does Dr. Porter,” Sinclair said. “And so do I.”

Delta shook his head.

“Dr. Lamb was in my head.” Sinclair’s voice was low again. “She was pulling my strings like a puppeteer. Son, I went through your hell for all of a day, thinking: I may have to live like this for years if he doesn’t knock me down. Before that point, I had never wished for death in my life, but in a matter of hours I was ready to go. All that, and I hadn’t gone through even a tenth of what you did. But hell, son. Hell. When I consider what that does to a man—over weeks, over months, over years.” He took a shuddering breath. “That was your greatest fear, you know. And I’ll never be able to forgive myself for making you live it.”

Delta didn’t dare look at him. He kept his eyes on his feet. What would his old self have felt? He was too frightened to reach back where his memories were. If they started flooding through him again, here on the street… Eleanor would have to touch him again. Eleanor would probably say, “Oh, he has to go home now and sleep in his own bed.”

It did sound nice. To go home, take a shower, go to bed. All of this seemed so pointless. To run away, just to go to Sinclair’s house, where he’d probably sleep on the floor, and Sinclair would talk to him like he was pitiful the whole damn time. Tomorrow he’d probably just go home, and everything would go back to the way it was, and he’d just take it, because of course he would. Who else could love him? Where else would people make a home for him?

It startled him to realize that this was why Sinclair couldn’t love him anymore. His previous self had been a whole person—a person who could speak, who was nice to look at, who knew who he was. But his current self… what was he to Sinclair but a child, an invalid, more dog than a man? Who could love that?

“I’m tired of thinking about it,” Delta said. “I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me. I just want to feel like a person. I don’t. I scare people.”

“That’s my fault, too.” Sinclair’s voice was thick.

“I don’t care.” Delta shook his head. He still didn’t look at Sinclair. “You feeling sorry doesn’t change it. I can’t change it. It happened. I don’t care. I just want to be a person.”

“But you are a person and we can help you. It’s just a matter of time at this point.” Sinclair slapped the side of his car. “And won’t you look at that! Home sweet home.”

Delta jerked his head up. They had pulled into a residential area. A series of brick houses spread out under comfortable old shade trees. Kids were throwing frisbees for their dogs a couple of houses over. The house that Sinclair was talking about was a red-brick affair with a nicely manicured lawn and a door with a stained-glass window.

“Eleanor!” Sinclair said, waving her toward him. “Come here!”

Delta froze as Eleanor, red-eyed, shuffled up to the window.

“Sweetheart, I swear on everything true and good in this world to treat your pops like a gentleman,” he said. “You understand me? I keep him off the street a night, and he gets that guest bedroom all to himself. But, see, I need some help from you to make sure this works out.”

Eleanor’s eyes were swollen and red. She stared at him without expression.

“I need you to get some clean clothes for him,” he said. “Let’s say—two days’ worth. Something for bed, something for daytime. Maybe a toothbrush and a razor and his shampoo, things like that. If you bring that on over, I can make sure he’s comfortable, and you can see how he’s settling in. And don’t you worry. I’ll bring him back as soon as possible, hopefully in better shape than he left.”

Without a word, Eleanor turned away and disappeared in a flash of light. The kids with the frisbees started shouting about it. Equally silent, completely expressionless, the Sisters all turned together and walked back toward town.

“You know, that’s the kind of thing I’d expect to see in a horror film,” Sinclair said, watching the girls troop away.

Sinclair turned into the driveway. Delta wavered for a moment, stuck between following him and turning to follow the girls back to Tenenbaum’s. The kids and their dogs had stopped to watch now. The dogs were alert in an unpleasant way—ears up, rigid-legged, tails swaying side to side slowly.

Delta held his face. Even dogs didn’t like him. Maybe it was Eleanor’s sadness pushing in on him, but he thought he was going to cry next.

“Hey, chief, look at this,” Sinclair said, leaning out of his window. “Come’ere!”

Delta slogged up beside him, leaned down. Sinclair held a little plastic doohickey with a button on it.

“Watch,” he said, and pressed it.

The garage door grumbled and lifted. Delta jumped. He must have made some noise because the dogs started barking.

“I’m living the good life,” Sinclair said, winking at him, and pulled into a spotless garage. “Get in here before you die of heat stroke.”

Delta wished he could tell him it was fine; poison couldn’t kill him, bullets couldn’t kill him, the cold couldn’t kill him, so what was the sun? But without a word, he ducked into the garage. The door closed behind him, cutting out the light and the Sisters, until it closed with a heavy thunk.

~*~*~*~

Sinclair’s home was dark: dark paneled wood walls, dark wine-colored carpet, heavy embroidered curtains draped over the windows. Delta caught sight of a living room set up with an easy chair and a sofa and a nice TV set. Everything smelled like cigarettes. As Sinclair flicked on lights and air conditioner, he headed down the right-hand corridor into an equally dark office, all mahogany and stuffy-looking, with uncomfortable-looking high-backed chairs. Delta eyed them warily from the hallway.

The first thing Sinclair did was sink into his office chair, grab his phone, and call Dr. Tenenbaum. Delta, feeling obnoxiously large, waited at the door.

“Brigid!” Sinclair said. “Found him. Oh, he got all the way to town. I had been out of the car maybe ten minutes when you called… all I did was pull out onto 9th Street and there he was. The man’s athleticism is unreal. Nope. Well, he did have a little run-in with the police, but… well, you won’t believe who he met.” He waited a second. There was complete silence on the other end.

“Jack Wynand,” said Sinclair at last. “Don’t know what he was doing with our boy here, but apparently he wanted to speak with you abou…”

“NO,” Dr. Tenenbaum said.

“All right, good enough,” Sinclair said. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t feel good about it, either. I thought you said he was a young man?” His brows drew together as Tenenbaum spoke. “That’s not right. He can’t have been a day under sixty.”

A muttering sound.

“He’s still a big guy. I wouldn’t get in a fight with him.” Sinclair drew out his pistol, released the magazine, popped out the bullets one by one, counted them under his breath, loaded the gun again. “Say, John?”

Delta jerked upright.

“Can you do me a favor and grab my holster? It’s right in that drawer across from me. Right there. Thank you, buddy. Sit down, sit down, take the weight off.”

The couch’s legs looked delicate, and the armchairs were too narrow, so Delta sank down on the floor, folding his arms over his knees. He loomed over Sinclair despite simply sitting. He felt so strangely childish.

“My question is this,” Sinclair said, throwing off his jacket. “Do I need to be worried about Mr. Wynand?”

When Tenenbaum spoke, it was quietly, and the rhythm was too even for Delta to make out anything. Sinclair buckled his holster. His smile sank into a frown.

“All right,” he said. “Understood. I just can’t figure what use John would be to him. Might it be to get to Eleanor?”

Delta whipped his eyes up to Sinclair’s. Sinclair was staring straight into his face, eyes solemn. He tucked his pistol under his arm.

“I thought not,” Sinclair said. “Well, thank you. Let me know if anything changes in the night. I sent the girls to get John some overnight clothes.”

Dr. Tenenbaum said something short.

“Doctor, if Eleanor and the girls had gotten there first, I’m afraid John would’ve left with Wynand. Hell, there might’ve been a fight, and frankly, I shudder to think of it. I think I was a fair option.”

Dr. Tenenbaum snapped something.

Sinclair took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against his temple. “Let me make this plain. I won’t take advantage of him. I swear on my dear sweet mother. He’s barely two months out of the suit and he’s like a whole new person; god knows who he’ll be by the third. I aim to spoil him rotten and nothing more. He will stay in the guest bedroom.”

Dr. Tenenbaum started talking. Sinclair listened, lips pressed together. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He opened it and shook it at John. John took it with a grateful nod and plucked one out. It was so tiny and delicate and soft in his hand.

“I understand. You don’t have to worry about me. If you feel like you have to check up, do. I promise it’s all above-board here at Casa de Sinclair. You don’t have to believe it, but that’ll just give you more worry than it’s worth. Go to bed with a clear conscience. I will.”

Sinclair tucked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and held out his lighter, the flame snapping into life above it. John lit it and sank back against the wall, one knee drawn up, one leg thrown out. He breathed in; breathed out.

“All right. Give my love to the girls. Reassure Eleanor I’ll be nothing but a gentleman. And don’t forget the man’s toiletries! Bye.”

He shook his head as he slapped the receiver on its cradle. “Good god, Juan. Your lot is going crazy without you. How do you do it?”

Delta paused, staring, before shaking his head.

“They do fine without me,” he signed.

“So you say,” Sinclair said, pushing pencils around on his desk with an idle finger. “Now, look. Brigid says you shouldn’t go out without someone from now on. I tend to agree.”

“I’m not stupid,” Delta said, hands stabbing through the motions.

“Of course you’re not stupid,” Sinclair said. “But you know Mr. Wynand killed several of your coworkers, don’t you? And those were fully kitted out. I doubt he’d hesitate for you.”

Delta growled. “I’d run away.”

“Good thinking. Do not fight him.” Sinclair rapped the table with every word. “Leave. In fact, take it one step further: you see him coming, you just run the other way.”

“What if he’s a friend?” Delta asked. “What if he wants to help?”

“Help with what?” Sinclair asked. “He’s the one who came to you. Now, although I doubt Mr. Wynand there went out today intending to catch you, he clearly wanted to use you in some way, and I’m guessing whatever it was wouldn’t have been very kind.”

“I don’t care,” Delta said. His eyes were burning.

A pencil bounced off of his forehead. He recoiled, only for Sinclair to flip a second one at him. It bounced off of the wall and against the back of his neck. Delta growled, yanked at his sleeve—only to feel the pencil tilt down his collar and slip into his shirt.

“For god’s sakes, don’t be dramatic. You’ve cared every step of the way. I should know.” Sinclair slapped another pencil down on his desk eraser first. “Now I suppose there’s no better time to address the, ah… Big Daddy in the room, as it were.”

Delta snarled and twisted his shirt out of his jeans. Crumbled leaves and dirt sprinkled onto the carpet.

“You clearly have some feelings for me.”

Delta’s breath caught in his throat. He kept his eyes down on his shirt.

“Now as touched as I am—and I will not lie, I am deeply, deeply moved—we were very different people 13 years ago. And even if we hadn’t changed as much as we have, right now is clearly a very sensitive time for you.”

Delta shook his shirt out until bits of hay filled the air.

“Do you know what you look like right now?” Sinclair asked, rising from his desk.

Delta reddened, fabric knotted up in his hands. The pencil plinked onto the floor.

“You look like a new human being every damn day,” said Sinclair. “I had no idea you were going to get this far. None of us did. It’s almost like you’re back.”

Delta smoothed his shirt out, dropping his eyes. The ash was building up on the end of his cigarette until it looked like a closed lotus.

“Tomorrow, you may realize you hate me,” Sinclair said. “I may have to call Eleanor from a payphone on the other side of town because you decided to throw my car at me. And frankly, I wouldn’t put it past you. You know what your last words to me were?” Sinclair slapped his pencil down. “You told me to go fuck myself.”

Delta squeezed his hands into a fist on his knee.

“Son, you’re about to have more ash than cigarette there. Come here, for god’s sakes.” Sinclair pushed an ashtray over the desk.

John tapped off the ash, eyes lowered. In the back of his brain, he could feel an electrical static building.

“Sorry,” he signed.

“I don’t know whether you’re apologizing for the past or for now, and either way, I don’t give a damn,” Sinclair said. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re being honest. You have nothing in you but honesty. It’s like I get to see you in your childhood.”

Delta snarled and shoved himself upright. “I’m not a child.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s a good thing. It’s you before someone beat all that fear into you.”

“What do you mean? Who beat me?”

“Don’t listen to me. It doesn’t matter.” Sinclair cleared his throat. “I just want you to know that as long as you stay here, my bedroom is off limits, as yours is from me. And you will not try to do anything beyond a handshake, you understand?”

“I’m sorry. I understand.” Delta took a deep drag of his cigarette. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the carpet.

“Again, you don’t have to apologize. You owe me nothing. But you aren’t well yet. You’re nowhere near well yet. I say you rest for a year at least before you start thinking about romance. And given what you’ve gone through, I’ll be frank: maybe it should be two or three or… lord. Five. The longer you wait, the better you’ll feel. Take some advice from an old rake.”

“I’ll go back,” Delta said. His fingers moved listlessly. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean that at all. Look at me. Look at me, Juan.”

Delta shook his head. Then he saw Sinclair’s shiny shoes up next to his beat-up sneakers. Sinclair leaned in, stared up into his face.

“I love you, Juan,” Sinclair said softly. “More than you know. But think about it this way. You need some time to understand what you really want. If you move too fast, you’re more likely to make regrets than good memories. All right?” He took Delta’s hand and clapped it between his. “Worry about recovering. Wait for Tenenbaum to collect the ADAM we need for your procedure. Learn a little about yourself.”

“Is Eleanor going to be safe?” Delta asked. He felt like his arms and hands were moving through syrup. “Should I go back?”

“Is Eleanor going… good god, honey, she nearly took the whole damn house off its foundation this afternoon,” Sinclair said. “There are 12 other Big Sisters at that house, all just as powerful as she is. I don’t like it that Wynand’s here, but I’d like to see him try and cause trouble with a house full of Supergirls. No, if there’s anyone in trouble here, it’s you.”

Delta closed his eyes. He had to go home. It was the right thing to do. The whole house full of Sisters and an enemy skulking around the perimeter! And at the same time, he couldn’t seem to move his legs.

“You okay there, chief?” Sinclair asked.

Delta shook his head, blew out a cloud of smoke, watched the patterns shift and dissipate.

“I’m glad you’re here. Do you understand? I’m pleased as punch. It doesn’t even seem real that we’re underneath the same roof again. Hell, forget about me—I think you might benefit by getting out of the house a while. Think of it as a vacation—a little time to recoup. Now come on. There’s a case of beer with your name on it and a night full of the world’s most rotten television.” Sinclair rose, throwing his jacket over his arm. “As for me, I’m going to make a roast beef sandwich. How about it? I’ve got fresh bread. As the kids today say—it’ll blow your mind.”

~*~*~*~

Delta’s bedroom was clearly not meant for someone his size. The bed was too small, the ceiling too low. If he turned on the fan and stood up, he’d get whacked in the forehead. His stomach sank. Was this the plan? To make him capitulate through discomfort?

“I don’t think I thought this through,” Sinclair said, clucking with displeasure. “Perhaps if we get the mattress on the floor of the den and lay the couch cushions at one end? That might be nice. Much roomier in there, in any case. And you can turn the television on in the morning and watch it in bed.” He winked. “Very cozy.”

“But I can’t keep you out of the living room,” Delta signed nervously.

“Oh, I won’t need to go in there past ten,” Sinclair said. “You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug, as my grandmother would say. Ah, son, cheer up!” He slapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t stand you lookin’ so sad. How many times were you making these faces under that helmet? I can’t stand the thought.”

Delta felt at his cheeks. He felt strangely naked all of a sudden. He wanted his suit again. He wanted his helmet.

“What are you feeling for up there?” Sinclair asked.

Delta shook his head. “I should go home.”

“You are home, honey.” Sinclair set a hand on his wrist. “Can you do me a favor, though?”

“Sure.”

“Can you drag the mattress yourself? I hate to ask you, but this leg makes everything a trial.”

“It’s no problem.” Delta leaned down into the bedroom, flipped on the light.

For a second, he saw the flash of a human shadow against the window. He started. Just as suddenly, he felt silly; he was seeing his own shadow thrown up against the blinds. No one could see in. Why would they want to, anyway?

“What is it, honey?” Sinclair asked.

“Nothing,” Delta said. “Bad thought.”

“You’ve been doin’ better, I thought.”

Delta was startled to realize the memories had settled back down. Was that all he had to do? Get upset and run to town? Maybe they would come back in the night.

Try not to think about it. Thinking about it will make it worse.

“Do you remember how to play gin rummy?” Sinclair asked as Delta lifted the mattress.

“I don’t know.” Delta pushed it on its side, leaned over almost double.

Sinclair sidled out of the way. “Well, we’ll bring out cards and see if you do. If you can’t remember it, well. We’ll just teach you again. Meanwhile, we’ll get you another cigarette, eh?”

Delta looked at his hands pressed against the mattress. God, they were huge.

“When will they get enough ADAM for me?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. We’d have to ask Dr. Tenenbaum that.”

“When I go crazy,” Delta said, “what will you do to me?”

Sinclair paused. “Let’s not think about that right now, honey. Besides. You’re doin’ great. Much better than we ever thought you would!”

“Something’s wrong with me,” Delta said. “I can’t think. It’s better, but it’s… worse. It should be faster.”

“You’re worried, that’s all. You haven’t been away from Eleanor this long and you did just have a fight with her. Come on, let’s get you settled down. I’ll get you a beer.”

Delta was about to ask if he thought Eleanor would forgive him when it struck him suddenly: if he wanted Sinclair not to think of him as a child, he should stop acting like one. He sounded like a child, didn’t he? Complaining all the time?

At first, he resolved to stop flapping his fingers so goddamn much. But the thought of shutting up filled him with a loneliness so complete it was a physical ache. Suddenly he completely understood Eleanor’s hatred of Sinclair. It was all his fault! It was all his fault he was like this! In the memories, he had been holding full conversations, jumping from subject to subject with ease! Even his terror in front of the whipping-man had been something—pure, almost. Since waking up, he couldn’t remember feeling anything that strongly except for his love for Eleanor and the power of his anger, and even then, both feelings made him feel tired, like there was such a frantic need to feel anything at all that he clung to them overlong.

The sheer level of work and uncertainty ahead of him squashed him so suddenly that he burst into tears. Horrified, he mashed his face into his opposite shoulder, rubbing his eyes so hard that fireworks went off behind his eyelids. But the tears wouldn’t stop, nor would the awful choking sounds. He couldn’t help it. Oh, of course he’d start crying here! Right in front of Sinclair!

Sinclair had started patting him on the shoulder.

“Shhh. Come on, John. Just get that bed all laid out so you can lie still a while.”

Delta shook his head over and over. “I didn’t mean to!” he said. “I’m sorry!” He mashed his cheeks against his shoulders, one after the other.

“You’ve had a rough day. Hell, a rough few months. You’ve cried before this; don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t remember!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sinclair said, slapping him on the back. “Look, you have plenty of very good reasons to cry, don’t you?”

Delta flung the mattress on the living room floor.

“I hate being like this!” he said. “I shouldn’t be like this! Like a baby! Giant and stupid!”

“I won’t have you insulting yourself,” Sinclair said softly. “You’re not stupid and you’re not a child. It’s just that right now it seems like too much. That’s fine. Look. Even if you could have been reverted in one go—why, look at Dr. Porter. It took him months to get to the point he’s at now. Hell, it’s taken me months just to be able to hobble around. And Dr. Porter had to deal with brain trauma on top of all of it, which, I’m told, makes the situation particularly heinous. Dr. Porter was the Alpha series right before me, wasn’t he? Second to last ever made?” Sinclair turned Delta’s chin down. “The process was standard by then, honey. He didn’t have half as much done to him as you did. You were in the pipeline for years. Not days, not weeks, not months. Years. It will take you more time to get better than either of us. And anyone who’s worth half a damn will give you that time. Do you understand me?”

“But what if I never get better?” Delta asked. “What if I’m like this forever?”

Sinclair’s hand clamped down on Delta’s wrist. His voice rose.

“Then they will give you that time,” Sinclair said, enunciating each word. “Anyone who matters will give you that godforsaken time. Do you hear me? Show me you understand.”

Delta nodded. His hand was pressed over his eyes.

“Good.” Sinclair slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll feel better if you’re clean. Come on. You’ll fit best in the master bath.”

Delta followed along, rubbing his sleeve under his nose. The fear and shame was drifting away. In its place was an aching emptiness.

I want to be worthy, he thought.

Worthy of being a man. Worthy of being respected. Worthy of being wanted. Worthy of being loved.

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[andichoseyou]

THE ERAS TOUR ASK GAME!

💗Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince: it's been a long time coming... what was your opinion on the Lover album when it first came out, and what are your opinions on it now?

💗Cruel Summer: fever dream high... can you remember the best or worst summer of your life? if yes, can you explain why it was the best/worst?

💗The Man: i'm so sick of running as fast as i can... can you name some songs, movies, poems, etc that make you feel powerful? like you could do anything?

💗You Need To Calm Down: we've all got crowns... name 5 female artists (besides Taylor!) that you love!

💗Lover: can i go where you go... what are, in your opinion, the most romantic songs of all time?

💗The Archer: you could stay... at the end of the day, who do you choose? who is your person? your other half?

💗THE LOVER ERA: if you could add one Lover song to the setlist, which one would it be?

🌟Fearless: i don't know how it gets better than this... what was something that you were afraid to do, but did anyway? how did doing that make you feel?

🌟You Belong With Me: been here all along... what are your go-to karaoke songs?

🌟Love Story: we were both young when i first saw you... what were your favorite books/fairytales when you were younger?

🌟THE FEARLESS ERA: if you could add one Fearless song to the setlist, which one would it be?

🍂'Tis The Damn Season: it always leads to you and my hometown... what is your favorite spot in the town you grew up in? was it a restaurant? your childhood friend's house? the school you went to? someplace else?

🍂Willow: i come back stronger than a 90s trend... favorite 90s song?

🍂Marjorie: you're alive in my head... if you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be?

🍂Champagne Problems: i dropped your hand while dancing... what was the last movie/show that made you cry?

🍂Tolerate It: tell me i've got it wrong somehow... rank every taylor swift track 5!

🍂THE EVERMORE ERA: if you could add one Evermore song to the setlist, which one would it be?

♟️...Ready For It?: in the middle of the night... what is the last dream that you can remember? what was it about?

♟️Delicate: isn't it?... what is your favorite taylor swift "question" lyric? (ex: "can i go where you go?" or "remember when you hit the brakes too soon?")

♟️Don't Blame Me: oh lord save me... all time favorite live taylor performance?

♟️Look What You Made Me Do: the old taylor can't come to the phone... what are your top 5 favorite taylor swift music videos?

♟️THE REPUTATION ERA: if you could add one Reputation song to the setlist, which one would it be?

💟Enchanted: this night is sparkling... favorite dress that taylor has worn? it can be on stage, on the red carpet, or just out and about... but it must be a dress!

💟Long Live: we will be remembered... what is your favorite Taylor related memory?

💟THE SPEAK NOW ERA: if you could add one Speak Now song to the setlist, which one would it be?

🧣22: it feels like one of those nights... when is your birthday? how old are you turning? what is something you want to do for it? do you have any birthday traditions?

🧣We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together: like, ever... best way to get over a break up? (romantic or platonic)

🧣I Knew You Were Trouble: so shame on me now... name 5 songs to scream-sing in the car with the windows down

🧣All Too Well (Ten Minute Version): i know it's long gone... what song(s) by taylor would you want a ten minute version of?

🧣THE RED ERA: if you could add one Red song to the setlist, which one would it be?

☕️The 1: i guess you never know... do you prefer The 1 or Invisible String?

☕️Betty: i know i miss you... what taylor swift song do you feel like she wrote just for you? a song that you relate to so much that it feels like she got inside your brain?

☕️The Last Great American Dynasty: 50 years is a long time... if you could write an essay/book/song/etc about any historical figure, who would you choose and why?

☕️August: you were never mine... favorite month of the year? why is it your favorite?

☕️Illicit Affairs: don't call me kid, don't call me baby... top 3 favorite taylor swift bridges?

☕️My Tears Ricochet: why are you at the wake... what are your go-to songs for when you need a good cry? (doesn't just have to be taylor songs!)

☕️Cardigan: i knew you... what is your favorite piece of clothing that you own?

☕️THE FOLKLORE ERA: if you could add one Folklore song to the setlist, which one would it be?

🦋Style: take me home... if you could ask taylor to cover one song, which song would you choose?

🦋Blank Space: if the high was worth the pain... what was the first taylor song you ever heard?

🦋Shake It Off: it's gonna be alright... list ten things that make you happy!!!

🦋Wildest Dreams: i bet these memories follow you around... would you consider yourself an optimist or a pessimist?

🦋Bad Blood: blood runs cold... all time favorite taylor collab? who do you want to see her collab with next?

🦋THE 1989 ERA: if you could add one 1989 song to the setlist, which one would it be?

🍀Surprise Songs: what are your two dream surprise songs that you want to see live?

🌌Lavender Haze: i just need this love spiral... what is the funniest/stupidest rumor about taylor swift that you have seen/heard?

🌌Anti-Hero: too big to hang out... are you a sexy baby or a monster on the hill?

🌌Midnight Rain: all of me changed... do you prefer sunshine or the rain?

🌌Vigilante Shit: don't get sad, get even... post your favorite taylor pictures from the eras tour!!

🌌Bejeweled: a diamond's gotta shine... out of the 4 music videos from midnights that we have, which one is your favorite? which one is your least favorite?

🌌Mastermind: none of it was accidental... what is your favorite "big word" that taylor has used in a song? (ex: Machiavellian, incandescent)

🌌Karma: sweet like honey... karma is cat for taylor, but what is karma to you?

🌌THE MIDNIGHTS ERA: if you could add one Midnights song to the setlist, which one would it be?

[gabykatttt]

Separation

Final pt

This song is called Grenade so Ellie this is for you Theodore said as the song started playing.

Theodore 🎶🎤

Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live, oh

Take, take, take it all, but you never give

Shoulda known you was trouble from the first kiss

Had your eyes wide open

Why were they open? (Ooh-ooh)

Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash (ooh-ooh)

You tossed it in the trash, you did (ooh-ooh)

To give me all your love is all I ever ask

'Cause what you don't understand is

I'd catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'd jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain

Take a bullet straight through my brain

Yes, I would die for ya, baby

But you won't do the same

No, no, no, no

Uh

Black, black, black and blue

Beat me 'til I'm numb

Tell the devil I said "Hey" when you get back to where you're from

Mad woman, bad woman

That's just what you are

Yeah, you'll smile in my face then rip the brakes out my car (ooh-ooh)

Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash (ooh-ooh)

You tossed it in the trash, yes, you did (ooh-ooh)

To give me all your love is all I ever ask

'Cause what you don't understand is

I'd catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'd jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Oh oh, I would go through all this pain

Take a bullet straight through my brain

Yes, I would die for ya, baby

But you won't do the same

if my body was on fire

(No) ooh, you'd watch me burn down in flames

(No) you said you loved me, you're a liar

'Cause you never, ever, ever did, baby

But darling, I'd still catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'd jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Ooh-ooh, I would go through all this pain

Take a bullet straight through my brain

Yes, I would die for ya, baby

But you won't do the same

No, you won't do the same

You wouldn't do the same

Ooh, you'd never do the same

No, no, no, no-oh

The crowd clapped their hands as Theodore dropped the microphone and got off the stage.

Eleanor followed him.

Theodore Theodore please stop Eleanor said.

How could you do this to me Ellie? I loved you so much and this is how you repay me cheating on me with a skank Theodore said.

I wanted to tell you but was scared Eleanor said.

Of what that I’ll find out well GUESS WHAT I did so go tell your little pathetic boyfriend of yours that we’re unofficial Theodore said.

What does that mean? Eleanor asked.

Are you stupid it means that we’re DONE AND I DONT WANNA SEE YOU EVER AGAIN Theodore said turning away before walking out.

I…f*cking quit this band tell Simon that Theodore said bursting into tears and walked away.

Alvin you can’t just give up it’s been your dream to become a singer Jeanette said.

She’s right Alvin don’t quit just because you’re going through something doesn’t mean you can quit Simon said.

Alvin remained quiet trying to hold back his tears.

Alvin are you okay? Brittany asked.

NO IM NOT OKAY I WANNA STOP SINGING BECAUSE IM DIAGNOSED WITH A MENTAL DISORDER I CANT CONTROL IT Alvin yelled bursting into tears.

That’s why you wrote that song because you’re dealing with a mental breakdown? Brittany asked.

Yes…I’m always been struggling with my mental health and I can’t do it anymore so I’m quitting the band like or not you can’t force me to stay Alvin said.

If you’re quitting so am I Brittany said.

Why? Jeanette asked.

Because I’m sick and tired just being all perfect and I don’t wanna fool myself anymore it’s sickening Jeanette it’s time to go on separate ways Alvin’s dealing with his mental health and I personally dealing with my health too so it’s over Brittany said.

Goodbye Simon you’re on your own now Alvin said getting up from his seat and left.

Bye Jeanette tell Eleanor that she’ll no longer live with us Brittany said.

You’re kicking her out? Jeanette asked.

Yes she cheated on Theodore Brittany said walking out. Leaving Jeanette speechless.

I guess we’re on our separate ways Simon said.

Yeah…we are Jeanette replied.

Our singing careers are over Eleanor said crying walking away.

Jeanette I have something to tell you Simon said.

Yes Simon? Jeanette asked.

Will you be my girlfriend? Simon asked with a blush on his face.

Yes Jeanette said.

Simon smiled pulling Jeanette into a kiss.

Theodore was watching them still crying about his heartbreak and left.

Alvin in the other hand was no longer the awesomest one he’s more like a psychopath.

The end….

@simplydannie @skydiverdrawings @horrorartist23 @juniper-666 @justnat3 @once-ler-ask-blog153 @zephyrmars

[mymisfitsbabe]

The other sides

****TRIGGER WARNING FOR Toxic behavior, threating tones, screaming matches***

*A Max and Billy bonding fic* *But lets face it, Billy is a dramatic shit and he lets his anger rule him*

“I just mopped the floor with Dustin!” Max said with an ear splitting grin plastered across her face as she rolled her window down. “You should have seen it! I lulled him into a false sense of security then,” She clapped her hands together, cupping them slightly so the sound she created boomed in the confined space of the car. “Wham! .K.O.”

Max laughed and rambled on about the game and how she wished everyone else had been there to see her demolish Dustin.

“Why was it just the little Harrington brat, where’s your boyfriend?” Billy asked in confusion as he drove them home from the arcade.

It was still early morning, Billy had woken up to Neil yelling at him to ‘go find your sister or else’. Lucky for him it was a Sunday, so that meant their parents would be at church for a few hours and they weren't  due to be home till afternoon. Honestly Billy was surprised the arcade was open so early, and even more so that Max had just come right out when he’d honked for her.

“Henderson?” Max had corrected, looking at Billy like he’d just said the sky was green. 

For a split second Billy didn't know what Max was talking about, but slowly his brain absorbed the information. “Wait, I thought that one was Steve's brother? The one with the hat, right?”

“What? No, that's Dustin Henderson, he’s an only child.” Max shrugged. 

“Wait, then which brat is Harrington’s brother?” Billy asked, confused. 

“Uh, no one. Steve and Dustin are just, like, best friends. That or Dustin has some really good dirt on Steve.” Max laughed.

That had all the alarms in Billy’s head going off. Billy slammed on the brakes, veering the car off to the shoulder of the road and throwing it in park. Billy glared at Max anger rolling off him so hard Max flinched in her seat.

“Why the fuck is he always hanging around you guys if he hasn’t got any siblings?” Billy yelled at her.

“H-he’s Dustin's friend!” Max had yelled back letting the shock fade into anger.

“No, Max, he’s not. No highschooler just hangs out with middle schoolers for fucking fun. Why was he there that night?” Billy demanded.

“I told you not to bring that up agai-” 

“I'm not fucking joking, Max!” Billy snatched her arm and yanked her closer to him. “Why the fuck was Steve Harrington hanging out all alone with a bunch of fucking kids? I want the truth.”

“Fuck you!” She hissed at him. “I still have that bat you asshole!”

“Max, this is serious! I swear to you if you don't tell me the fucking truth I’m gonna take that bat and use it on him!” Billy hissed.

Max looked at him with so much horror on her face that it turned his stomach, but he didn't back down, didn't loosen his grip on her arm.

“He was protecting us!” Max growled through gritted teeth. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Billy asked, letting her go.

“It's none of your business.” Max sneered.

“Not my-.” Billy scoffed. “If it involves you, then it's my goddamn business, Max.”

“I can't tell you!” Max screamed at him. “I can't tell you and you promised you wouldn't talk about that night ever again.”

“I’m going to rip his fucking head off!” Billy growled, clenching his jaw so tight it hurt as he started to shift the car back into drive.

“Wh- what are you doing?!” Max asked shifting in her seat as Billy pulled his car back onto the road.

Billy ignored her as he sped his way toward the Harrington house. Max watched the road with wide, fear filled eyes, her hair whipping around like flames in the wind. Billy could all but see the little hamster wheel in her head turning as she started to panic.

“Billy, please! Don’t do this!”

“Then just tell me why he was there!” 

“I can't!” Max screamed at him.

“Why not?!” Billy yelled back at her, taking a turn a little too hard. “Did he tell you not to?!”

“Billy!” Max screeched, she scrambled to pull on her seat belt and Billy laughed feeling down right feral.

“You think I won't go to his house?” Billy yelled glaring over at Max as she clung to the seatbelt. “You think I won't break him?”

“You’re an asshole! He didn't do anything wrong! He was protecting us, I swear!” Max screamed at him, her face going red in splotches. 

“Not good enough!” Billy growled slamming on the gas as he sped down Steve’s street.  

“Billy, just stop, please! Just stop!” Max begged, grabbing his shoulder and yanking at him.

“Not a fucking chance.” 

The tires screeched as Billy jerked the car into Steve’s driveway, he threw the car into park beside the beamer and started to get out of the car. Max wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him back into the car, Billy choked, grabbing at her arms and trying to keep upright.

“Get offa me Max!” Billy yelled as he tried to slip from her grip.

“You can't do this, Billy! Steve didn't do anything wrong!”

“Then tell me what he did! Tell me why you can't talk about that night, what the fuck happened?!” Billy yelled as he struggled out of Max’s arms, he grabbed her thumbs and pried himself free.

“Billy! Billy, please! Please, I swear he was just protecting us!” Max fisted her hand in his shirt, bunching up the black tee shirt at his sleeve. 

“Protecting you from what?! Huh? What the fuck is out there that's so goddamned bad that some random highschooler needs to protect you and a bunch of other middle schoolers ALONE in the middle of now where, at night, in FUCKING INDIANA!” Billy bellowed, his anger spilling over into fury. 

“Billy,” Max whined, she looked around panic clear on her face. “I can’t tell you, I can’t, but I promi-”

“Max, there is no good fucking reason for grown man you ask you to keep things from me! Whatever he told you, is just some bullshit tactic to get you to trust him.”

“Wait…” Max’s face scrunched up in confusion, she stared at him for a moment in disbelief before cracking a smile.

“What?!” Max laughed, the sound so abrupt that it startled Billy. “You think Steve Harrington was trying to-” She couldn't finish the sentence she was laughing so hard.

“Then why was he there, Max! If he wasn't being a fucking creep why was he there, why did he lie and why the fuck can't you tell me?”

Max shook her head and wiped at her eyes. “I already told you,” She said as the laughter died down. “He was there to protect us, nothing else. Dustin kidnapped Steve cause he was the only one around, or something.” Max shrugged and put her hands up to show she had no idea.

“Steve went to go help Dustin because Nancy was pissed at him, or something, I didn't really pay attention to that part and Steve, kinda, just bonded with his captor. I don't know the whole story there.” Her face twisted into something close to nonchalants.

“The poor guy had no idea who I was. Dustin had no idea I was going to be there, Lucas invited me and Steve was just trying to keep us alive so Nancy didn't kill him.”

Billy looked at her in disbelief as she kept rambling on. “You snuck out of the house to… go do what?” Billy asked, confused.

“Well, Dustin found this… dog… and it killed his cat, we had told him the.. Dog wasn't safe and he hit it from us. So, when it turned out to be dangerous Dustin found Steve and Steve helped.” 

“You,” Billy took a deep breath. “You went to go hunt down a feral dog?” Billy asked, anger so thick it shook his voice.

Max shrugged her shoulders. “Kinda….” She said, sinking into the seat.

“Hey guys..” Steve’s voice called from outside Max’s door.

Max startled, letting out a yelp and jerked away from the door. Billy flinched, he’d forgotten that they’d been parked in front of Steve’s house, forgotten that people could probably hear them yelling at each other, forgotten that Steve would be home and that he would definitely come out to investigate. 

“What's going on?” Steve asked bending down to look into the car.

Billy’s mouth went suddenly dry, Steve was standing there in his pajamas, red plaid pants with a well fitted gray long sleeved shirt, his hair was messy and he looked amused.

“Billy thinks that you're a per-” Max started to say, a laugh clear in her voice.

Billy clapped a hand over her mouth and glared down at her, a clear warning on his face. Max’s eyes glowed with a wicked glee and Billy had just enough time to wonder what the hell she was up to when she stuck her tongue out and slobbered all over his hand. 

“What the fuck, Mayfield?!” Billy screeched, jerking away from her and slinging saliva from his palm out his window.

Max laughed and Steve tried his best to hide the fact that he was laughing too. 

“Oh, yeah. I heard.” Steve nodded his head and smiled wide. “Suddenly the scar on my face makes much more sense.” Steve said, humor clear in his voice.

Billy looked over at Steve, confused and slightly interested in seeing the scar he’d left on Steve’s freckle dotted skin. 

“I'm making pancakes.” Steve said, looking at Max.

“Blueberry?!” Max shrieked a little too loud, lunging toward the door and grabbing the frame so tight her knuckles turned white. 

“Yup, bacon too.” Steve had backed away from the car when Max had slammed herself into the door and he leaned back in when he answered. “The guys are on their way, if you wanna join us.”

Max opened the car door and started to get out of the car when Billy snatched her arm and pulled her back in.

“No fucking way are you going in there, Maxine.”

“Billy, come on! I’ve never had fresh pancakes, and blueberries are my favorite!”

“I don't give a shit!” Billy hissed as quietly as possible. “You are not going in there alone.” 

“You can come in too, I’ve got plenty.” Steve said with a flat half forced smile.

Max beamed, and Billy withered, he really did not want to go inside Steve Harrington’s house.

“Over my dead body.” Billy muttered under his breath, but his grip loosened as he tried to picture what the inside of Harrington’s house looked like. 

Max pulled free of his hold and bolted out of the car before Billy could grab her again, very nearly running Steve over on her way out. “Come on, Steve makes the best food. You’ll love it so much you hate it.” Max called back to Billy as she ran toward the house. 

Steve watched Max run past him and shook his head, he looked over at Billy and shrugged putting his hands up in a ‘So, what are you going to do’ sort of way.

“Fuck,” Billy whispered to himself as he reluctantly got out of the car and followed Max inside.

The pancakes on his plate looked so good Billy wanted to scream, he wanted to throw the perfect plate of food across the room and stomp out of the homely house like a petulant child.

“Where are your parents?” Billy asked bitterly as he cut into the golden brown circles. 

Steve frowned, he leaned back in his chair to look at something Billy couldn't see. “Japan.” Steve answered.

Billy looked up at Steve and frowned, his brows furrowing together. “What?”

“They have two more days in Japan, then they’ll be headed back this way.” Steve shrugged and settled back into his seat, picking up his fork to eat.

The first bite of food had Billy tossing the fork back down and groaning, he turned away from his food angry that it was that damn good.

“I told you so” Max said around a mouthful of food.

Steve laughed, he opened his mouth to say something when the front door crashed open and the sound of four preteen boys scrambling inside echoed through the house. Billy turned in his chair to look toward the noise.

“Close the door you animals!” Steve yelled as he got up from his seat.

The door slammed as Mike, Dustin, and Lucas rounded the corner and raced toward the kitchen. When they finally noticed Billy they all stopped, tripping over each other as they tried to give themselves as much space as they could from Billy, who couldn't help but smirk at them. Another kid came scurrying in a moment later and ran right past Billy.

“Will, Will,” The three huddled boys hissed looking after their friend. 

The new kid turned toward them and gave them a look of confusion. “What? What's wrong?” 

Billy turned to face the new kid, who in turn looked back at him. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I'm Will, nice to meet you.” The new kid walked over and put his hand out to shake.

Billy’s brows raised up and he scoffed, but put his hand out and shook Will’s without hesitation. “Billy. It's…” Billy looked over at Max for something, help maybe? “A pleasure.”

Will looked over his shoulder to Max then turned back to Billy, he slowly pulled his hand away and made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth.

“Ohh, Billy… Max’s brother.” Will said nervously scratching at his head. “I thought you looked familiar.” 

Billy’s face crumpled up with confusion, one brow arching up as he put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fists. “Now, what do you mean by that?” Billy asked in an accusing manner.

“Will,” Steve interrupted. 

“No, Harrington, let the kid talk.”

“I-I” Will looked around the room. “I’m Will Byers…”

“Oh,” Billy said, cocking his head to the side and taking another look at the kid. 

“Well it's nice to finally meet you, since I missed you the last time I was at your house.” Billy frowned. “Where exactly were you, by the way. Cause it seems a little odd to me to invite all your friends over to your house then leave.”

“Alright, alright, foods getting cold guys.” Steve interrupted again, but was quickly ignored.

“I,” Will looked over his shoulder to Mike who shook his head, Billy glared over at the kid who stiffened and shrank back against his friends. “I have this condition. I sometimes get seizures… My mom had to take me to the hospital.”

“Really? How interesting. And why exactly was this guy there?” Billy tipped his head toward Steve. “He doesn't quite seem like the type of guy you’d be hanging out with.”

“He was there for Nancy.” Will answered quickly.

“Interesting, cause I didn't see Nancy at your house that night. Where was she?”

“She went with us to the hospital, my brother was really worried and she wanted to be there for him.”

Billy’s face turned up in mock surprise, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Well now that's a surprise since she was dating Steve at the time wasn't she?”

“That's enough. The kid was sick, he wasn't really in a position to know about everyone's love life, Hargrove.” Steve said sternly.

“Well then maybe you can fill me in on what the hell happened at the Byers house that night, since you’re such an integral part of this little group of middle school brats.” Billy shot back.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure I can follow along.” Billy answered.

“Short story is Nancy dumped me while we were all at the Byers, Will got sick. I told Nancy to go with Jonathan because I could see she wanted to, she did. I stayed with the kids.” Steve shrugged trying for nonchalant, but his shoulders slumped a little too hard and his mouth twitched down into a frown. 

Billy let the conversation drop, he glanced over at Max who was glaring daggers at him. 

“Why’d you lie to me?” Billy asked, turning his eyes back to Steve.

“Because you’re kind of a dick. And I thought I was protecting Max.” Steve sighed with a shrug. “The way you barreled in the house and attacked Lucas, can you blame me?”

Billy turned to look at Lucas, the kid had gotten taller and he stood with his chin up, clearly showing that he wasn't intimidated by Billy.

“No. I guess I can’t. I would have hit me too.”

The boys were skittish at first, but it wasn't long before they were all talking over each other and shoveling a large quantity of food into their mouths. Billy watched them in disgust. 

Once all the plates were cleared to the kitchen Steve started wiping down the table, Billy watched as each kid aside from Max started helping Steve clean up.

“It's your turn to wash, Max.” Dustin said, handing her a towel.

Billy’s eyes almost bulged from his head as he looked down at her in complete shock, anger once again settling into his features. 

“Your turn? What the fuck, how many times have you been here?” Billy snapped.

“N-never! I swear!” Max said, putting her hands up. “Dustin brings Steve’s food to the AV club and the arcade sometimes but I’ve never been here before I promise.”

“I-it's her turn cause she’s new. She hasn't done dishes yet and we have, so it's her turn.” Dustin said, backing away from them.

“It’s true,” Steve said, stepping between Billy and Dustin. “This is Max’s first time over, and she’s only here today because you were with her.”

Billy looked into Steve’s eyes searching for any hit of a lie. With a heavy sigh Billy gently shoved Max toward the kitchen. 

“You dry.” Billy muttered as he started arranging the dishes on the counter.

They’d made it halfway through washing the dishes before Billy growled in frustration, his hair kept falling into his face and he was angry at himself for not putting it up before he started. Using his shoulder, Billy pushed the curls from out of his eyes for the fifth time since they started.

“Here,” Max said as she stood on her toes and scooped his hair up into her hands.

Billy flinched, jerking away and glaring over his shoulder at her. “What the hell are you doing?” Billy hissed like she’d burned him.

“Oh, relax. I'm not going to mess up your hair. I'm just gonna put it up like when we wash the dishes at home.” Max rolled her eyes and went back to gathering all his hair up.

Looking around cautiously, Billy let her finish putting his hair up, she took a rubber band off one of her braided pigtails and used it to tie his hair in place. 

“There, now you can stop growling like a feral dog at your hair.” Max snickered.

“Fuck off.” Billy muttered without any real bite to his words.

[tobiasdrake]

Ten paces from where we left off and I found Fubuki's final bauble. Let's go say farewell to my Bestie.

Are we at the Nail Man Murder clock tower? Why did you call me here? What a weird place to hang out.

NOPE. PUMP THE BRAKES. You're like early 20's and Yuma is... a number. I know you have trouble with numbers but this is giving me the yikes. And I don't mean character-yikes, I mean writer-yikes. Why is this happening.

I mean, I know why this is happening. Kodaka's made clear his intent to perv on adult women by proxy of his juvenile protagonist since the introduction of Shinigami's humanoid form. I just. Was hoping. It would stay contained to that.

Kurumi has game-long slow-burn waffling anime bullshit and Desuhiko had that heavily coded band conversation but fucking Fubuki gets to just come right out and say that. I am not comfortable with this conversation.

Please do not. I adore you, Fubuki, but I do not ship it.

Why is this Fubuki's final conversation topic. Goddammit Kodaka.

Though that bit about the arranged marriage is unfortunate. A reality of feudalistic politics, capitalist or nationalist, is that marriage is more often a political piece than anything else. Upper-class relationships are more contractual than affectionate.

At least she's not trying to follow up on it. Great. Thanks. Let us never speak of this again.

That's great and I support you. I've been wanting you to break free from their yoke and go your own way. Fuck 'em.

*gritted teeth* I just. Wish. It was happening. Because of. Something else.

There we go. I'll take that. I am declaring that that was what this conversation was about. Nothing else happened. Fubuki simply was inspired by her companions at Nocturnal Agency to break free from her parents and her stupid arranged marriage. Yes.

So. Fubuki Clockford. What can we say about her? Well, if anything, this final conversation confirmed exactly why Kodaka is not to be trusted with these kinds of characters.

Fubuki is a fascinating character. I could pick her brain for hours. She sees and experiences the world with a sense of childlike wonder that I almost yearn for. Of course she became a detective. What else could she be when every facet of normal life is itself a mystery to unpack.

She is on an expedition to the mystical realm known as life, and I feel that. I'm old and bitter now, and sometimes I think back to what it felt like to have hopes and dreams that life has long since beaten down. I bawled like a fucking baby when I saw this Penny Arcade comic one day.

And that was over 15 years ago. I'm even older and more cynical now.

Fubuki is a treasure. If only one person gets to live out of all of us then i want it to be her.

I just. Wish. Her creator. Saw this character as more than "LOL Sexy kindhearted bimbo".

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

All the Time in the World - Chapter 3

Birkhall, January 2020

The stormy weather, appropriately, hasn’t ceased all morning and the summons to Balmoral come before I have managed to calm him. I find it so difficult when I’m angry too, the emotions this whips up are so personal, wounds very deeply hidden and tightly bound. My hands are shaking when I reach up to kiss him goodbye.

“You never let me do this, what Harry’s doing. I begged you so many times.”

And here it starts. That guilt, that uncertainty, even at me. “It wasn’t what you wanted. I didn’t want you to destroy your family, your life, your birthright, because of me.”

“I should have fought for you.”

“You did, in your own way. I never wanted the destruction necessary to be with me.”

“I didn’t look after you enough.”

“Charles, when Andrew and I got divorced, you kept the roof over my head, both metaphorically and physically. You made sure I had food sent to me, a car and petrol so I could get about, every book published to entertain me… You looked after me.” 

“I didn’t keep you safe.”

“Yes, you did! I’ve had police protection since ’97…” My voice trails off. I neglect to mention why he paid for police protection for me, why he enfolded me into his household and he looks at me even more guiltily.

“Far too late… I should have anticipated the impact this would have had on you.”

To this day, I occasionally get nightmares about head-on collisions in a car. These twisted nightmares attribute blame to the people in my life I know would prefer me not to be where I am, but the day I lived that nightmare felt like I was hovering above myself, watching myself, in a state of complete terror. I still remember the shock when I turned the corner to see that other car, the jolt of the impact and the screeching and groaning of metal twisting and buckling. There was no pain. I realised I was alive and yanked off my seatbelt, kicked the door to get out of the car and staggered over to the other. It was upside down, the wheels still spinning. I took one look at the blonde woman at the steering wheel, blood on her face and I screamed and ran. At that moment, I thought I’d killed her. I ran until my lungs burst and then I collapsed upon the roadside verge and hysteria took over. At some point, I’d regained enough of my faculties to ring Charles, sobbing again and again that I’d killed her. It didn’t matter what he said, sense was not with me and I don’t know to this day how long it took him to figure out enough to send his protection officers to find me. They couldn’t console me when they arrived, nor get any sense out of me until they informed me that the woman whose car I’d hit was alive, more shaken than hurt, and angry that I’d left her upside down whilst I ran off, screaming. 

Charles was calm and gentle with me, downplaying the incident, but the parallels of the accident shook him to the core and made him reevaluate my position. From that afternoon, I relinquished a large chunk of my freedom for a chauffeur and my own police protection as it made him realise that I was a public figure now and that people might want to cause me harm. But it was as much for our reputation as for my safety. That cold rational part inside my brain knows that if that woman had died in a car accident because of me, nothing would be able to rehabilitate me. We would never be able to be together.

“I didn’t protect you from the press.”

His words pull me from the squealing of brakes and I’m grateful. “You couldn’t protect yourself. How were you meant to protect me?”

“That’s all Harry wants for Megan, I do understand that… But…”

“...Harry and Megan are perfectly safe here.”

“Yes… Harry doesn’t realise that not only was he allowed to marry the woman he loves, it was encouraged, celebrated.”

“It’s a different time.”

“He should be grateful.”

“No, he shouldn’t.” He’s no longer talking about Harry. His thoughts are firmly on our difficulties. “What happened to us was not okay. Everyone should be allowed to marry the person they love.”

“If you’d have married me in the first place…”

“It was a different time…”

“I don’t understand what more he needs.”

“He’s not you.”

“She’s not you, more like.”

“Good. I’m sure that would be illegal. I know we said we should be able to marry who we want, but there are steps too far and lines which shouldn’t be crossed.”

That makes him chuckle. “I’m certainly pleased you find it so abhorrent. There’s technically no law against it. You’d both be consenting adults.”

“I’m sure it’s happened in the past. Oedipus?”

He chuckles again, kissing me on the forehead. “Let me go, Darling, my own mother, who I have no intention of marrying, is calling.”

“Battle stations.”

“William will be apoplectic.”

“I’ll phone Katherine.”

“Since when do you two get on?”

“We’ve always got on.”

“Phone calls at times of strife to share gossip?”

“I’m a very good ally. I, actually, quite like her although I have to try really hard not to be insufferably posh and I think she’s warmed to me too.”

“She married a bloody Prince. Too posh? What was she expecting?”

“Shut up and go to your summons.”

“Everything in this bloody family is always such an absolute catastrophe.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“I just can’t believe he would do a thing like this, and expect there to be no consequences. My mother isn’t going to be thinking about that little boy she used to chase about the room when she draws her sword.”

“Will you be sticking up for him?”

“I just don’t think it’s possible. I can’t exactly put my neck out for him because then that will be seen as a slight against William. And I’m so angry at him, Darling. What should I do? Tell me what to do.”

“What’s the most important thing?”

“The Crown. Always the Crown.”

“That’s your answer. William is your choice. But remember through your anger that he’s Diana’s boy.”

“I know he’s Diana’s boy. That’s never been the dispute.”

“No. I mean, in the eyes of the public. Don’t forget.”

He sighs, “I’m not bloody likely to, am I?” and then pushes his head into my neck, signifying the end of the conversation and I hold him to me, swaying slightly as though to some inaudible music, not wanting to let him go.

“What will you do when I’m gone?”

That makes me smile. “What I usually do when you’re away, prepping for the apocalypse.”

“But it’s meant to be our holiday, together, and I’m constantly away…”

“Life is like that sometimes…” 

“Hold on…” I smile at him as I see him register my words. “Apocalypse?”

“The Chinese virus.”

“You’re obsessed with that bloody thing.”

“No harm in being prepared.”

“Well don’t get another bright idea to install wifi or something else abhorrent in my absence.”

“Would I ever?”

“Yes… You absolutely would.”

“Go and see your mother. When you get back, we can put on wetsuits and go for a walk.”

“Make sure the fires are lit, I don’t want you getting ill with the cold and damp.”

“If you’d let me fully renovate…”

“Don’t be drastic.”

“Shoo… See you later…”

Not quite unbeknownst to my husband, I’ve used the time he’s spent in war cabinets with his family to plot renovations to the house to try to minimise the drafts and the damp and to brighten the place up a little. I’ve read through the briefings on my husband’s desk about the virus in Wuhan and I know that we’ll be sent here, away from everyone for his protection if it spreads. This house is barely livable but he’s against change of any sort so I’ve spent a considerable amount of time with colour cards, matching up the shades of the walls and ordering the correct paints. I’ve also booked a glazier and several carpenters to solve the problem of the drafts inside and I’ve secretly paid for a new boiler to be installed, bypassing his deliberations so it happens this century. Irritating the head gardener considerably, I’ve doubled the extent of the kitchen gardens to make us self-sufficient. If everything goes to plan, the estate might actually be livable by the end of January. I know from past experience how uncomfortable this house can be in the cold and there’s no harm in being prepared. 

2010, Birkhall

It’s so cold my breath is condensing in front of my face. Which, ordinarily, occurs outside, not whilst I’m sitting at breakfast with my husband. We’ve managed to seclude ourselves after the stress of Christmas in perfect isolation from the world, just the two of us and my sister and brother-in-law. No polite conversations with inclement family members or sycophantic social climbers. It’s bliss. Arctic style. The thermostat reached zero this morning for the first time since I can remember. I mention this to my husband who laughs at me.

“We use Celcius nowadays, Darling.”

“Tell that to your barometer.”

“I use the laptop to determine the weather. It’s more accurate.”

“I prefer the old fashioned method. What’s a laptop but a lump of metal and plastic?”

“Yet, connected to the internet and power, it’s technically precise.”

“How did you connect… Don’t answer. I don’t actually want to know…”

He smirks at me and blows out a plume of white condensation. It shouldn’t be this cold inside. The fire is flickering brightly but it’s not been lit for long and doesn’t have that residual heat it needs to be warming. The morning shines grey through the windows and I can see the ice growing in patterns up the glass, reflecting the light into odd directions, making the room feel dimmer. I’m wearing an ancient fur coat, one I’m not allowed to wear outside anymore, and I can see my husband’s concern each time I bring my fork to my mouth. I hover my scrambled eggs just above it to watch him wince and then smile as I eat my mouthful. I have this glint of evil inside me which makes me want to pour my breakfast down myself to watch his reaction. I don’t, of course. A cackle of laughter disturbs me and I turn to see my sister walk through the door, wrapped head to toe in a blanket of tartan.

“You look like the Empress of Prussia sat there in your Ushanka and coat, inside. All you need is a muff!”

“That’s because she’s probably wearing the last Empress of Prussia’s coat.”

“I found it at the back of a cupboard, left to feed the moths.”

“And now you’re subjecting it to eggs…”

I laugh. I knew it was bothering him.

“Well at least it’s sensible attire for the temperature.” Ever the conciliator, my sister. She plonks herself down next to me and starts picking at my eggs. “I looked at the barometer, it’s zero degrees!”

“Minus eighteen.” 

Charles almost makes me splutter my eggs down myself. 

“It’s not Antartica, Sir, that’s a little extreme.”

“Celsius. Goodness. Can you Shand girls not keep up with the times?”

“Speaks the living relic of an ancient time!”

I listen to them bicker through breakfast with a twinkle in my eye even if I’m quite aware I must keep out of the argument.

“Darling, did you hear what she just called me?”

“Temporary deafness, I’m afraid...”

“Darling Milla, your husband is quite incorrigible. Surely you won’t stand for what he just said.”

“I was stuck in a daydream, I’m very sorry…”

Skiing is not my usual passtime. We never went as children and whilst my sister took up the hobby like the majority of our generation with the ease of the flights and enjoyed the buzz of the resorts, I hated flying and my ex-husband, Andrew, never particularly wanted to go, at least not with me. By the time Charles and I were able to holiday together, I had no wish to learn alone on the nursery slopes at Klosters whilst Charles hurtled off-piste down a mountainside. Instead, I’ve been subjected to yearly torments at Aviemore before we finally compromised on Clashindarroch Forest. It suits his green objectives and for me it’s so much easier, not having to face death by careering down a run on wobbly legs. The skis are lighter, we spend half the time trudging uphill and the slopes are much more gentle. We both find the forest beautiful under the blanket of snow and we end up getting cold as we insist on stopping to watch a bird we spot or because we’re transfixed by the view.

This year, we are able to ski cross-country on the Birkhall estate. A blanket of snow six feet deep has covered most of Scotland and both post and supplies are being airlifted in, but here the snow isn’t so thick and it’s perfect to ski on. I think this is Charles’s idea of heaven, being the tour guide around Birkhall, on skis, with me and a captive audience. I’m actually a fair cross-country skier by now and to my absolute delight, my brother-in-law is struggling somewhat. So for the first time ever, I’m the person keeping up with Charles and we get these wonderful quiet moments to ourselves, listening to the sound of the snow falling from the branches with a thud to the ground, spotting the deer in the distance before the other two catch up. My sister is red in the face with the exertion of climbing up each hill but I’m used to him dragging me up mountains and even carrying my skis through the snow doesn’t feel too tiresome. He’s so happy to have me with him, his eyes are soft each time he looks at me and he stands as close to me as he can get.

“Look, the stream is running.”

“Of course.”

“But it’s so cold!”

“The spring isn’t far from here. It’s warmer underground and it’s moving so fast it hasn’t time for the surface to freeze.”

“Will the loch be frozen?”

“Loch Ullachie, yes, definitely.”

“Can we go ice skating?”

He laughs at me and glides to a stop by the side of the stream. “What? On the rusty blades left to die in the outhouse?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t aware you can skate.”

“No. You can teach me. You’re the one with the famous teacher. Taught by Torvill and Dean themselves.”

“I wasn’t taught by them.”

“I thought you were.”

“No. I was taught by their coach. Both Anne and I were. She said she thought I’d make a skater.”

I hit his arm. “She had to say that.”

“No. She said Anne should remain on terra firma. I, apparently, was a natural.”

“Of course you were. I can just see you in your tights and your spangly costume…”

“You’re only being bitter because you’re jealous of my ice skating career.”

“Teach me. We can be Torvill and Dean.”

“It was so many moons ago, I’ve forgotten how to stand up. Anyway, aren’t Torvill and Dean famous for lying on the ice? We can do that! That sounds achievable.” Then, without warning, he pushes me over into the snow and falls on top of me, both of our skis still attached and sprawled together. He’s such an idiot. We’ve fallen awkwardly and he’s too far away to kiss me, so instead he’s pouting and making slurping noises making me giggle until I wriggle closer and his lips are still in that ridiculous pout and it makes me squeal as he attacks me with this sloppy kiss. He manages to subject me twice to this ordeal before I push a handful of snow in his face and we’re both laughing as I wipe away the snow from his mouth to kiss him properly. I hear my sister moaning at our excessive display of affection but it just goads Charles and he pins me down in the snow to kiss me again.

“You’ll never be free. I’ve got you forever.”

“A prince will come and save me and then I’ll be freed from your tyranny.”

“Never, never, never.” He kisses around my face, making me giggle again and then attempts to get up, realises his skis are tangled in mine and he’s stuck and flops heavily back on top of me. “I think we’re stuck together forever.”

“However will we cope?”