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therealplaguedoctor · 4 months ago

Text

Never do a shoey.

Daniel Riccardo x Podcast.host!reader

Summary- classic case of he fell first and also fell harder. So y/n is a popular podcast host known for interviewing/having really famous people on her podcast. She was reached out to by mclarens media team to have their two drivers on the podcast. The episode did really well and mclaren invited Y/n to join them that weekend for the Miami Grand Prix! Where she meets a fan of hers that she just so happens to be a fan of... what will happen? Will they get together for just the podcast? Or will there be more?

Warnings- suggestive implications, mention of 'love' marks/bites, alcohol

Stupid warnings- reader is in Florida (surprising i know), author is a dumbass and pretends she knows shit(she doesnt), American spelling, I never spell check, also has refs to some of my twt moots 🫶

F/c- various people on pintrest

A/n- So I had this idea for a minute but I didn't know who to do it with so I had my moots on Twitter help me (hi guys!!) So thank them for the DR3 fic!! (Also i got lazy with texts dont mind it) And as always: sorry if it's ooc and I hate everything I write lol

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Y/n L/n a name that quickly rose to fame. She started to become famous on tiktok due to her 'face time' series. Talking about events in her life but acting as if the audience was a friend she was on face time with.

Y/n is known for her impressive conversation skills. She can hold and carry a conversation like it's breathing for her.

She had created a podcast as she rose to fame originally named 'facetime' which was scrapped after legal reasons. She changed the name to 'celeb seats' as she was able to secure an interview with YouTube and tiktok influencer 'Kallmekris'. She was able to continue this trend with having a celebrity on her podcast almost every episode-

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You closed the tab. They had just posted an article about you! You're a new type of famous now, the article was just a get to know you article. It was pretty accurate actually. It talked a bit how you rose to fame, then it talked about how you claimed that fame with your podcast 'celeb seats'.

The podcast you hosted was normally just you and one other guest, only a few times it was just you. Your guests were all celebrities, some more famous than others, some more liked than others.

But there is one main reason on why people enjoy your podcast: you're still a person. You don't act like your famous (whatever that means) and you prioritize your guest comfort over content. The main example is when you had YouTuber Markiplier on and had cut a large portion of it out. Him later talking on it saying something along the lines of 'she told me that she's going to cut that convo out. Cause I mentioned that I was iffy on people seeing it. She didn't ask she just said she was going to when I said I was iffy on it'. Him being a largely trusted person boosted your character and your popularity which widened your audience.

You were able to interview people from almost everywalk of life. Politics, actors, youtubers, streamers, tiktokers, voice actors, and even singers!

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Y.n just posted!

Liked by Billie.eilish and others

Y.n: great to have you on @/billie.eilish !! This episode of the Celeb Seats Podcast will be posted next week on Wednesday!

User1 OMG GURL HOW

User2 WHY CANT IT BE WEDNESDAY ALREADY

User3 I still can't believe that she has Billie's number

User4 WHAT

User3 It's in episode 12 she mentions it, it was her first QnA episode with the q: who's the most famous person on your phone!

User4 IMMA GO REWATCH THAT HOW COULD I MISS IT

Billie.eilish: thank you for having me it was a blast

Y.n 🫶🫶🫶

User5 I love them sm

danielricciardo oooo can't wait!

User6 WHAT DANIEL HUH?

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You see the verified name pop up in your notifications. Clicking on the profile, daniel ricciardo, the name seems familiar, you then read a little: formula one driver. Huh, it was currently Saturday night. There was a race tomorrow you decided to give it a watch setting an alarm to wake you up for the race, you put down your phone and eventually drift off to sleep.

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Daniel arrived early the next day at the paddock signing a few things and walking in, with his classic smile on.

He stepped up in front of the camera as the truck drove around the track for the drivers parade.

"Hello Daniel Riccardo" the journalist greeted

"Hey" he smiled

"So today is a big race today" she said "your home race and all"

"Yeah, it's always exciting you know?" He chuckled waving to the crowd

"Of course" she smiled "well we actually only have a quick question for you today: I'm sure you've seen it but people are surprised you listen to the Celeb Seats Podcast. Care to add anything?"

"Oh yeah" he smiled "I've listen to that podcast I think since the first episode it's actually really entertaining. And I think Y/n is a great host and I'd love to be on it"

"Alright thank you Daniel" she said as he stepped off to the side. As Oscar was next to get interviewed

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Your alarmed blaried in your ear. Turning it off you sat up and made your way to your living room and turned on the TV turning it to the EPSN channel. As you started making some coffee.

You sat on the couch as the race started sipping your coffee. You had to google some terms after they were said causing you to miss some overtakes. As the race wrapped up you turned off the TV and quickly went to YouTube and searched: formula 1 explained. Adding a few videos to a watch later playlist.

You quickly made yourself some breakfast before making your way to your office and settling down to start editing a video as well as finish the next episode of the podcast.

Deciding to take a break from editing you check your business email. Deleting the spam emails as well as the ones that were definitely scams. Before you glanced over a familiar orange logo you saw earlier that day. You clicked on the email:

Hello Y/n L/n

We hope this email finds you well. We have seen you podcast called "Celeb Seats" and we would love it if you were able to host our two drivers: Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. We know you're located out of Florida and we have a Grand Prix later this year (may 3-5) in Miami. We would love to be able to invite you actually!

Sincerely, the Mclaren media team.

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You quickly typed out your own email that basically amounted to:

I would love too be able to host them! Thank you for the invite I accept!

After a few messages back and forth you were able to set a date to record with enough time so you could edit and post it before the grand prix.

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You were adjusting the angle of one of the cameras as you heard a knock at the studio doors.

As you settled down after adjusting the mics in front of them.

"Okay," you said "Welcome to the Celeb Seats Podcast I'm your host Y/n. And today we are actually joined by two people" you motioned over to them "both formula one drivers for mclaren, Lando Norris" you motioned to him "and Oscar Piastri" you then motioned to him.

"Hey" Lando said

"Hello" Oscar smiled

"Okay so this is actually the first episode with two guests so let's see how it goes" you chuckled

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After calming down from laughing "okay okay we" Lando motioned between him and Oscar "have a question for you"

"Shoot" you smiled

"Well you did mention earlier that you watch a little bit of formula one" he said as you nodded "well who is your favorite driver?"

"That's tough" you said "well hmm, I'd want to say Logan cause he's you know he's American" you chuckled "but I'd have to go with the other aussie, Daniel Riccardo. Sorry Oscar" you chuckled

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Y.n just posted!

Liked by mclaren and others

Y.n: Guess what! I know I normally post as soon as the episode is recorded but I had to wait to post this 🫣. But I had both mclaren formula one drivers on my podcast! @/LandoNorris and @/OscarPiastri, thank you for joining me!! This episode will be out tomorrow before media day!!

User7 HOW

User8 SHE ALWAYS GETS EVERYONE ON

Mclaren Thank you for taking care of our boys 🙌

Y.n it's no problem!! They were entertaining to say the least!

User9 I LOVE HER SM

LandoNorris Thanks for having us!!

Y.n it was great to have yall on!!

OscarPiastri Best interviewer ever!!

Y.n you just wanna become my favorite driver?

OscarPiastri ...maybe

Y.n dw Osc you'll always be in front of Lando

LandoNorris WHY AM I CATCHING STRAYS

User10 I love the bickering

User11 they are all siblings your honor

User12 wait...

User12 WDYM HER FAV DRIVER SHE WATCHS F1???

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Daniel was happy about another podcast episode dropping he put it on and started his work out. He was taking a break when he almost choked on his water. He was your favorite driver.

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You were walking through the paddock making your way back to mclaren hospitality with Lando. You two walked side by side before Lando tapped your shoulder and said:

"Hey let me introduce you to some of the other drivers" Lando smiled innocently. There was nothing innocent about that smile.

"Hey Daniel" Lando waved to a man you recognized, Daniel Ricciardo, your favorite driver. Oh fuck you Lando you thought to yourself. Lando then motioned at you "This is Y/n L/n she's a guest for Mclaren this weekend" Daniel looks over at you, fuck he's kinda hot. "And y/n, this is Daniel-"

"-Riccardo yes I know Lando" you chuckled

"Wow I was just trying to be nice and introduce you two" he huffed, you just rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the tall Australian.

"Nice to meet you" you smiled "I don't know if you watch my podcast but I mentioned that you're my favorite driver"

He nodded quickly "yeah I'm actually a big fan of you podcast" he smiled "I've been watching it since episode 1"

"Wait that long?" You asked a bit shocked that he watches it

He smiled "yeah!" He said "I was actually listening to the most recent episode while working out and I almost choked on my water when you said I was your favorite" he said scratching the back of his head a little bit embarrassed

You laughed, he smiled.

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Media day by passed way to fast. You wished you could spend more time with Daniel but he had practice the following days so sadly you couldn't.

Sunday

The race had began. Each lap passed the next one faster than the last. Next thing you knew you were celebrating with his team in the garage. Lando had just won the Miami grand prix, his first race win.

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Y.n just posted

Liked by mclaren and others

Y.n thank you for the invite mclaren 🙌. Can't belive I was there to celebrate this first win for @/LandoNorris congrats man, you deserved this!!

User13 ONE OF US ONE OF US

User14 NEW F1 INFLUENCER

Mclaren you were great company!! We'd love to have you again

Y.n stopp I'm blushing 🤭🤭

Mclaren 🧡🧡🧡

Y.n 💙💙💙

User15 mclaren admin and Y.n flirting was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

AlphaTauri You should visit our garage..

Y.n is that an invitation 🤭

AlphaTauri ...maybe 👀

User16 ARE WE GONNA IGNORE THE LAST PICTURE

Y.n yes

User16 OMG HIIIII

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Lando had invited you out. In Miami. After his first win. You should have known how wasted youd get, too say the least. You and a small group of his friends went club hoping. The night was fuzzy, but everyone in that group drank their weight in alcohol and then some....

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You woke up with a killer headache making you remember the highlights of last night: the dancing, the clubs, and the fucking alcohol.

The room was plastered in darkness which you thanked the blackout curtains you invested in. You went to get up but couldn't. You were held down by something around your waist. Or someone.

The arms that were wrapped around your waist were strong. You tried to escape them again, which just made them tight around you and the man next to you burry his face in your back.

You thanked God that you were clothed, thankfully in your own pants but the shirt was definitely not yours.

The man let out a groan as he moved, you froze before closing your eyes and pretending to sleep. The grip around your waist loosened as you feel the man move slightly. Based on the movement he was on his back. He began to move again sitting up, you felt his body heat leave which left you a little colder.

You moved slightly as being frozen there was a bit uncomfortable. This movement in turn caused him to freeze:

"Did I wake you?" A familiar voice asked you. No fucking way.

"No" you said softly as you shook your head sitting up.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you looked the man in the eyes your suspicions were confirmed: Daniel fucking Riccardo.

"Well good morning I guess" you said, if there was even a little bit of light in the room it would show you being beet red.

"Mornin' " he muttered in response "well uh" he said "fuck, what do we do know?" He asked

Which just caused you to start laughing

"What? What did I say?"

"No, nothing" you said "just funny"

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You stood in your bathroom as you looked in the mirror. Daniel offered you to shower and get new clothes on first (mostly so he could get that shirt back). As you stare at yourself in the mirror hand tracing the love bites and love marks that covered your body. Damn. You thought to yourself.

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You awkwardly handed him his shirt after you exited the bathroom. He thanked you as he grabbed it and walked into the bathroom going to take a shower himself as he stilled smell of alcohol and the late night activities.

You walked into your kitchen not knowing what else to do you started making breakfast. It was pretty basic: toast, eggs, and some sausage.

Daniel exited the bathroom, his hair still a bit wet. He looked even hotter than before, how is that even possible. Shaking your head of those thoughts you slid a plate across the counter in front of him. You both ate in silence before he spoke up:

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked

You shook you head "I remember getting drunk but no I don't remember what your referring too" you said

"I don't either" he said softly munching on a peice of toast

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After a little bit and a extreme amount of awkwardness Daniel left. It was weird you house almost felt empty now that he was gone.

It had been a few hours since Daniel left before you got a text:

??- hey this is Daniel, I asked Lando for your number I hope that's not weird

Yn- No it's not,

Daniel- good lol

Daniel- so I just wanna talk about last night real quick....

Yn- let's just not mention it again like ever

Daniel- agreed.

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After that awkward first string of text messages you actually started talking to Daniel. It started off with just some comments on his racing or one of his posts soon you were texting him almost everyday. Text turned to calls, some calls turned to facetimes.

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"Hey Danny" you smiled as you answered the face time placing your phone back on the counter facing you as you cooked.

"Hey y/n" he said, "what are you making today?" He asked

"Well I'm making this stir fry-" you started "wait what time is it for you?" You asked him

"Uhhh doesn't matter" he said the screen to your phone was almost completely black. You could only see bits of his face.

"Daniel" you said in a warning tone

"It's, 1am" he said muffling himself as he talked

"Daniel-" you started. "You litterly have a race tomorrow. Go to sleep"

"But-"

"Nope you need to sleep before the race"

He huffed "fine." You heard a little bit of shuffling before a quiet "goodbye"

"Good night danny" you said before grabbing your phone and hanging up the face time.

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"AND LEWIS HAMILTON WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX-"

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After the celebration you got up and texted Daniel:

Yn- tell yuki I said congrats on points!

Danny- I get no congrats... 🥺

Yn- maybe if you went to sleep earlier youd be in points and you'd get a congrats too

Danny- :(

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"Danny isn't it like past midnight over there or something?" You asked, you two were currently facetiming eachother again, while you worked on editing the next episode of your podcast.

"Yeah" he yawned "but I like talking to you" he said groggily

A notification popped up on your phone as soon as you looked over, "what the fuck?" You said

"Hmmm?" Danny asked

"Carlos just signed to Williams"

"What" he asked "he what? Williams" you heard some shuffling as he checked his phone looking through Twitter. "Damn" he chuckled "glad I was up to witness this with you"

"Youre just trying to get out of me scolding you" you chuckled

"...maybe" he smiled "well hey if I was over there I wouldn't have to stay up" he said sleepily

"You just want to be on the podcast huh?" You joked

"Maybe" he smiled "come on let me be on it"

You smiled "okay okay" you chuckled "I actually have recorded a bunch of episodes for over your summer break so, you can come over anytime"

"Really?" He asked hopefully

"Yes Danny" you said as you went back to editing. "Just schedule a flight and let me know how long you want to be here"

"What if I wanted to be there the rest of the summer break?" He asked

You freeze a bit in surprise but before he could say something you spoke "I wouldn't be apposed"

He smiled as he hummed softly. Soon you heard soft snores coming from your phone.

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You heard a knock at your door. You walked over and opened the door a large smile on your face. As you opened the door to: Daniel Riccardo.

"Hey Danny" you smiled letting him inside

"Hey" he smiled walking inside nodding a quick thank you.

"Here let me show ya to the guest room" you smiled shutting the door behind him

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BREAKING NEWS: DANIEL RICCARDO SPOTTED LEAVING AN AIRPORT IN MIAMI BEFORE HEADING OUTSIDE THE CITY

User17 HWAT WHERE IS HE GOING???

User18 it's probably a media thing guys

User19 WAIT ISNT Y/N BASED OUTSIDE MIAMI???

User20 PLEASE YOURE FEEDING MY DELUSIONS

User19 😭😭😭

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Y.n just posted!

Liked by danielricciardo and others

Had this guy on my podcast he said he is a famous f1 driver...I don't see it 🤔

But anyways- it was great having you on the podcast @/danielricciardo !! As always look out for these upcoming episodes!! (had to rearrange my posting schedule for this man 😒)

User21 I KNEW IT

User22 dieing. Dead.

danielricciardo thank you for hosting me!!

Y.n it was great having my fav f1 driver on!

LandoNorris :(

Y.n know your place, youre behind Osc

OscarPiastri :D

User23 SHE CALLS OSCAR OSC IM CRYING

Frankie THE DANIEL PICS THANK YOU YN

Shelbyrose Get back in the cage

Olivia kinky.

Nics 😰😰😰

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"Okay" you said adjusting the mic arm in front of you as you sat down. Clearing your throat you start:

"Welcome to the Celeb Seats Podcast I'm your host Y/n, and to day I am joined by: DANIEL RICCARDOOOOOOO" you smiled

"Y/nnnn L/nnnnnnn" he said back

You chuckled "it's great to finally have you on"

"Great to be here" he smiled "sad I can't say that I'm the first f1 driver on the pod"

"But you can definitely say your the favorite" you chuckled

"True" he smiled

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"Okay okay" you said as you breathed stomach hurting from laughing, you turned to the camera "Thank you for joining us for this episode of Celeb Seats! We'll see you later!"

You got up and stopped the recording on the cameras as well as the mics. "So what ya wanna do?" You asked Daniel as you packed up the camera

"Well I don't know what you have around here" he shrugged "you have anything in mind?" He asked

You smiled "You don't mine if we go on a bit on a trip before we get there right?" You asked

He shrugged "I think I'd live" he chuckled

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As you pulled into the small dirt parking lot Daniel looked at the tall trees that surround it.

"Welcome to Highlands Hammock" you said "we don't really have mountains or the like for hiking trails but we have these cypress boardwalks" you smiled as you both got out of the car.

You two slowly walked the boardwalk, you pointed out the different types of trees, some animals and other plants.

"I love cypress swamps" you smiled "they're so beautiful" you chuckled

Daniel who was right behind you whispered "yeah beautiful" as he looked at you

"Hmm what did ya say?" You asked turning to face him

"Oh nothing don't worry" he smiled

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You kinda forgot when you got here but you both ended up at a small park next to a lake. Sitting on a small bench as you watch the sun set across the lake and eating ice cream.

"This was nice" Daniel said

"Yeah" you smiled looking up at him

He looked back at you. You stare into eachothers eyes.

"I wouldn't mind spending all of summer break like this, with you" Danny said

"I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you" you said

With that you leaned into eachother, lips touching you melted into the kiss. His lips were slightly rough but the kiss was gentle. He placed his hand on the side of your neck just under your jaw.

The kiss broke.

"God I've been wanting to do that for so long" he said

You chuckled "me too"

"So can I call you mine now?" he asked

"Yes you can, but I will never do a shoey" you said

Causing him to laugh before pulling you into another kiss.

You did in fact ended up doing a shoey. It was fucking disgusting. Never do a shoey.

Fin.

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#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel riccardo imagine

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saltylemontears · 1 month ago

Text

freely || dr3

summary: you think daniel's the most beautiful when he's happy warnings: none a/n: this work is insanely short and i wrote this in 20 minutes, but i saw the video and my brain decided to think about a road trip with danny

you sit behind the steering wheel and adjust your seat for you to be comfortable for the next few hours. you put on your sunglasses, the warm american summer making its way into the car.

you've always liked road trips - getting to stare out the window and explore places you usually wouldn't even glance at normally. so, when you met daniel, who was just as passionate about exploring, you knew you've found the one.

well, speaking of daniel, he sits next to you, cozying up in the passenger seat after driving for the previous three hours. the late afternoon summer shines on his face, lighting up his features behind his own sunglasses.

you start the car. it's a bit bigger than you're used to, but it's not too bad, and you actually quiite like it. especially the radio, which can connect to your phone.

he rolls the window down, filling the car with fresh air. the wind brushes through his curls and he's smiling so hard. you return the smile, caressing his thigh.

you know how hard the past weeks have been for him, resulting in heartwrenching nights and sad mornings. so, you decided to plan a long trip around the us - because seeing him smile after all that is truly worth it.

as you focus on the dusty road, daniel shifts in the other seat, fiddling with the radio buttons.

he likes music, you know that, and so do you, so him turning on the radio isn't a surprise. he skips through the songs, trying to find one he likes, and when he does, he turns the volume up. he leans out of the window, yelling out the lyrics passionately.

you unconsciously join him, humming the melody at first, before turning to full-on belting, voice disappearing in the wind.

the playlist only gets better and it gets harder to focus on the road, singing that old miley cyrus song with the strangest accent. daniel turns to you with a camera, capturing a scene of you singing behind the steering wheel, the sun setting behind you.

when a song you both really like plays, you lock eyes and sing together, pefectly in sync. perfectly free.

you stop at a gas station to switch and to buy a red bull. you sit back in the passenger seat. danny is much more of a natural at driving, of course.

the sun sets, illuminating your faces red, and he looks over at you, caressing your hand with his own. and when you look back at him, you know he's finally happy. you know he can spread his wings freely. and you'll be here every time.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo fic

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verdemoun · 3 months ago

Note

Fun fact, Kieran may have been originally supposed to live longer, at least judging by his many unused voice lines (found on YouTube) and a longer hairstyle which I actually think looks better for him (found on rdr wiki of cut content). Maybe he was supposed to go to Guarma? The voice lines to me suggested going on hunting missions with him but I’m not too sure.

spoilers. obviously

fun fact i have listened to the 2+ hours of Kieran's cut voice lines so many times even my housemates know it and groan when they walk in and i'm listening to it. Did you know one of his cut voice lines for a near miss in a shootout is 'whoo, nearly took my head off!' to foreshadow his eventual demise? And he has several variations of lines telling Arthur to rest with the gentlest tone suggesting he would have been one of the few characters to show concern for Arthur's illness in later chapters? And slightly less relevant but there is a cut interaction in where he asks Jack to sneak him some food only for Arthur to threaten to kill him BUT CALLING HIMSELF UNCLE KIERAN???

screenshots by cad5150

About Guarma, all but confirmed. Here is one of his cut outfits, which I think very obviously suits the vibe of what most of the gang wore in Guarma like compare it to Micah's Guarma outfit in particular. Additionally he has this hood as an outfit accessory: some people think it was intended that when he rides into camp Horsemen Apocalypse there's a moment of the hood being taken off and then the characters having a much more visceral reaction to his eyes being gauged out but personally I think it makes way more sense that he was meant to be in Banking, the Old American Art 'replacing' Sean as an extra gun. Which would have been really cool because I would have loved a conversation where they bring up they're a gun short and it spiral into more reflection on how they're not just a gun short, they're a man down, they lost the 'joy in their lives' Sean Macguire and they were still hurting instead of just NEVER MENTIONING HIM AGAIN other than a few rare character lines.

Side tangent also his scarf is different in his guarma outfit which is it's own essay because if you're going off the blue high honor red low honor theory this so strong implies we could have seen some really cool character development. looking at what the gang were wearing in banking and then in guarma there's no obvious explanation as to where he got it. how cute would it have been if we got a scene where mary-beth gifted him a scarf?? but the also terrifying implication that we might see kieran become less high honour good boy blorbo to someone a bit more morally ambiguous?

I think the question really is how he would have fit in in Guarma, which of course we will never know and considering how much cut content there is about Guarma. Like everyone else in Guarma makes sense: Dutch's descent into immorality being so clear even Arthur questions it, Bill being the one trusted to look after Javier following his rescue, supporting their friendship in rdr1, Micah reaffirming his position as an actual piece of shit in his lines responding to Hosea and Lenny's deaths and complete lack of empathy. Maybe a kieran who is slightly more ruthless and active in shootouts in guarma but also shows compassion for arthur as arthur gets sick? Maybe the attack on Hanging Dog Ranch was meant to be more a revenge for Kieran's death assuming he was taken and killed similarly to his death in chapter 4 (given how much much foreshadowing there is for his death), but just another misery in chapter 6 that hits harder because we have more time to grow attached and see him develop?

Except. Except then we get to cut outfit kieran.

first. hellooooo sailor. but who is this man. who is this man who looks older. and wears a very, very low honour red scarf. and is obviously dressed still as an outlaw, and didn't go live a happy life with mary-beth. is it. is it possible. kieran was not always meant to be doomed by the narrative??

is it possible we would have seen kieran become more loyal to dutch and micah, true to his army abandoning, gang jumping, choosing to ride with the o'driscolls rather than die, immediately 'loyal' to the vdls despite torture because being alone meant certain death, coward nature? or would he have just been a character john could encounter in the epilogue? perhaps shaken by knowing arthur, as one of his very, very few friends, died trying to be a better person and abandoned any effort to be more than an outlaw?

but. but kieran. shirt all buttoned up. scarf on. thick coat. hair slightly feral and wild. why does it looked like you're all dressed up for the cold, buddy? like- like you might have been hiding out up mount hagen.

#kieran duffy #my blorbo my love my whole heart #rdr2 spoilers

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bitchesgetriches · 1 year ago

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Bitches I need some advice.

I'm fat, okay? I'm not ashamed about it. It just... Is. I'm fat.

Being fat is also fucking me up. It's causing me sleep problems, it's fucking my joints, I can't walk as far as I used to, I haven't run in years.

I want to lose weight. Not for anyone else. For me. I want to be fit again.

I'm surrounded by people telling me I'm "not fat" and need to "love myself like I am". I'm 210lb and 5'3". Ya girl is fat. And I'm okay with that it's not a bad word. I love myself. But I also love the things I used to be able to do when I was fitter. It's just really fucking hard.

I've got zero support left and right. And I don't know what to do. I know this isn't your area of expertise, but you're such great internet mamas that maybe you can help.

My darling child, we are SO humbled that you came to us with this. And while this isn't an area of our OFFICIAL expertise... weight and athleticism is something that I, Piggy, personally think a lot about! So let me see if I can offer some support to you, my beloved fat child.

By way of background: I have never been fat. Heavier than I want currently, but not fat. So I don't completely understand what you're going through. I have always been an athlete of one sort or the other. But more than that, I have always had the privilege of being relatively skinny without trying. At peak fitness I was running and rock climbing and doing all the stretchy and weight-trainy stuff. I was 5'5" and 130 lbs of jacked Bitch.

I am also a proud Italian American woman, which means that after 30 genetics decreed that I start putting on weight and rounding out and coming into my full Zia-ness. I'm currently 155 lbs. and running/climbing/stretching/jumping about/weight training is getting harder and harder. And that's frustrating to me.

Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. So I'mma use it just as you have! I'm proud that you are prioritizing your health and ability to do what you love over losing weight for the sake of just being smaller. Because let's be clear: weight and health do not necessarily go hand in hand. If your goal is to improve your sleep quality, energy levels, and joint pain, then you should focus on activities that will work directly on those issues. Maybe that'll lead to weight loss--maybe not!

A lot of the medical establishment is cruel to fat people, so I'd be cautious about approaching this with your doctor. But you SHOULD get medical guidance before embarking on any kind of physical change. If your doctor says "Well, just lose weight through diet and exercise!" then you might want to look for a new doctor. If they instead offer practical solutions for incremental improvement, then great.

One of my favorite athletes is The Mirnavator. She's a fat marathon runner and offers a lot of information on how to start walking more and running as a fat person. I think she'll be a good role model for you as she focuses a lot on energy and joint health.

Also, you should check out Aubrey Gordon's blog Your Fat Friend and her podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase. She's also got some great books out! She's a fat expert on weight loss and diet culture. And her insights into healthy nutrition and body image are amazing. Her data-based approach will help you avoid the extreme dieting and weight loss trends that can hurt your health. Plus she's funny as fuck.

Lastly I will just say that mental health is tied to physical health. You're bummed about not doing the things you use to be able to do... and that probably makes it a lot harder to change! Acknowledge any depression or anxiety you feel about being fat and give yourself compassion. Start small and do what feels good.

Now here are two VERY old articles I wrote when I knew less about fatness. I think they still have a little bit to offer, though:

Why You Probably Don't Need That Gym Membership

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Any fat members of Bitch Nation who want to weigh in? Uh... pun not intended.

#tw: weight loss #tw: fat #tw: dieting #just adding trigger warnings because I know any discussion of fatness and weight loss can be really triggering to some folks #be well my darlings

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noturlondonboy · 5 months ago

Text

Me Without You

Katelena Angstshot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate and Yelena get into a horrific car crash the same day that Yelena is planning to propose.

Warnings: major injuries, car crash, blood, talk of/implied adult content, gore, hospital stay, coma, memory loss, angst, mental illness, more angst, me making up medical stuff, swearing, did I mention angst yet

Positive!Content warnings: Wandanat, baby Billy and Tommy, Katelena fluff

A/N: Yes this is super angsty and kinda stupid and doesn't make sense but I swear on my life that no one dies and it has a happy ending so read it anyway :)))

This is NOT edited because my draft didn’t save and I am not about to redo all of it rn so

"Kate Bishop, if you touch that volume button again, I swear to god I will kick your ass so hard it flies out your fucking mouth."

Kate freezes with her hand on the dial, looking guilty as hell. "But it's so quiettttt." She had been blasting Mother Mother for the past ten minutes until Yelena's brain had exploded and she turned it down- she couldn't handle listening to it the entire drive to Clint's place. The morning had already been overstimulating enough.

Yelena pins her with a stare when they reach a red light. "I'm the one driving, which means I'm in control of the volume, if not the music. Hands off."

The archer pouts and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "You had the aux cord when I was driving yesterday," she whines.

"You didn't fight me for it," Yelena points out. She reaches over and cups Kate's chin, pulling her girlfriend's face close to press a soft kiss against her lips. "Cheer up, little hawk. You can have it on the way home."

Kate's demeanor immediately brightens, and she presses forward to kiss Yelena a little harder, holding it for a moment even after the light turns green and the car behind them honks. Yelena breaks off and presses on the gas frantically, her cheeks burning, and Kate laughs softly.

"You're so cute when you blush, baby," she says, leaning her chin in her palm to stare at her girlfriend's side profile as she drives their little Mitsubishi.

Yelena's grin is wide and bright, albeit shy. "Shut the fuck up, Kate Bishop," she says lovingly.

"I love youuuu, Lena."

"I love you too, stupid."

Kate settles back in her seat, rather satisfied with herself as she watches the snowy road go by. It was a little early for them to get snow, but a freak storm had blown in last night and iced the roads over, and Kate wasn't going to complain either way. She thought it was pretty.

"What if I turn your song on? Then can it be louder?" she asks after a couple minutes, the last notes of Hayloft fading out.

Yelena purses her lips in thought. "I suppose so," she concedes. Kate hums and pulls her phone out to find American Pie on Spotify and happily turns the volume back up.

They both sing and dance along once the lyrics start, and Kate's cheeks hurt with how much she's smiling when she replays the song. Yelena always straightens up a bit more to this music specifically, and the way she seems to glow as she dances to it makes butterflies erupt in Kate's stomach.

"You're beautiful- you know?" Kate mutters, watching Yelena with soft eyes. The blonde grins again and turns to her girlfriend at another red light, pulling her close once more to press a searing kiss to her mouth.

"And you, Kate Bishop, are very charming." She reaches a hand up to cup the archer's cheek and kisses her deeper, smoothing her thumb along her strong jawline.

Kate grins into Yelena's lips, and leans back again with a content sigh when the light turns green. They would be at Clint's in about ten minutes. "Thanks, Lena. I try."

A soft chuckle. "You're beautiful too, detka."

Kate blushes despite herself and gives a happy sigh. "God, I am so gay. This is so gay. We're so gay. I love being a lesbian."

Yelena barks a laugh this time. "I would hope so, Kate Bishop! We've been dating for six years." Even as she says it, she's consciously aware of the ring box in her left pocket, heavy and waiting. Her heart glows, and another smile has her dimples popping out.

"What's the grin for?" Kate asks, poking at Yelena's cheek.

"Just excited to see Wanda and Natasha." The two women had twins just a few months ago before they moved back from New York, so neither Yelena or Kate had been able to meet the new baby boys. They were staying with Clint and Laura's family until they found a new house, probably somewhere in Ohio.

Kate coos loudly, squishing her own cheeks. "Oh my goodness, I'm so excited to meet Billy and Tommy. The pictures they sent are so darling- I'm gonna die, Lena."

Her girlfriend reaches a hand over to squeeze her thighs. "Do you think you'd ever want kids, Kate Bishop?" They had talked about their future over and over before, but now with the two of them having a set of new nephews, the option of a family felt more real.

Kate twines their fingers together and lifts Yelena's hand to kiss her scarred knuckles. "As long as they're with you, Yelena."

"God- you really are cheesy." The assassin is still blushing furiously either way, and she marvels at how well Kate is able to turn her all gooey even after crushing on her for years and years.

"I can't help it," Kate says cheekily.

"No, god, you really can't, can you? You'd probably keel over and die if you ever tried to be serious for once in your life."

Kate punches her shoulder lightly and leans over the center console to smack a wet kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "Shut up, loser."

Yelena just cackles and turns to the archer. "You know I'm right!"

"Yeah, yeah." Kate hums a laugh and settles into her seat, gazing out the window. "I love the snow."

"I know, darling."

"Maybe we can take the twins sledding."

"We can't take four-month-olds into this weather, Kate Bishop. They'll get sick."

"Booooo."

"Dummy."

"Asshole."

"Fucker."

Kate grins. "Damn right I am."

"Kate!" Yelena's jaw drops, and her face is absolutely blazing. Her girlfriend just cackles.

"You sure weren't complaining last night when I used the new str-"

"Kate Bishop! Shut up! I'm trying to drive!" Yelena can feel her stomach pooling with heat, which is rather distracting when she's trying to navigate their car over icy roads.

Kate gives a shit-eating grin and waggles her eyebrows. "I brought it with me in my bag."

Yelena's skin feels like it's being torched, and her jaw drops so hard she swears she can feel it hit the seat under her as she whips her head away from the road to glare dumbly at Kate "You what?!"

Except that there's a patch of black ice right in front of their car, and when she takes her eyes off of the road, the tires choose to go skidding right at that moment.

It happens too fast.

Kate is shouting, reaching over to Yelena. The assassin's hands are wrenching frantically at the wheel, and there's a truck horn blaring from all directions- one second, two, and then a screeching crash erupts around them.

The world goes black.

——

Yelena's head feels like a horse is kicking into it repeatedly, and something hot and sticky is dripping into her eye as she slowly comes to. The pavement is scorching beneath her hands, digging into the flesh of her raw palms that have been scraped open on the road. She groans and blinks fruitlessly, each action slamming lighting into her brain.

What the fuck just happened?

Her legs are twisted uncomfortably underneath her, but as she regains enough consciousness to assess the rest of her body, she concludes that nothing is numb to the point of paralysis, probably due to the adrenaline flooding her system.

Where's Kate?

A spike of strength spears through her, and Yelena shoves herself to her shaking feet, biting back a scream and wrapping an arm around her torso when her ribs wrench with pain. The burning wreckage of the car crash in front of her is horrific- she doubles over her bleeding knees and empties her stomach on the pavement when she sees it.

Their car is completely demolished, with the truck that slammed into them not looking that much better, and Yelena is sick for a second time when she spots the damage done to her driver's side. She should be dead. How is she not dead?

Where is Kate?

Yelena opens her mouth to call for her girlfriend but chokes as blood floods over her tongue, and she realizes with a dull pang of horror that she bit into it in the collision so hard that the flow of sticky red is almost gushing.

A problem for later.

She forces the pain away and frantically stumbles closer to the crash, legs shrieking. "Kate!" she screams out, her mouth on fire as blood continues to sputter from her lips. "Kate!"

The car is in flames, and oil and gasoline are dripping dangerously from the twisted metal. "Kate! Please!"

There.

She spots her girlfriend as fire starts to crawl towards her, and Yelena lets out a wail as she forces her legs to go faster. The archer is sprawled out awkwardly on her belly with her cheek pressed into the pavement, blood pooling underneath her head and legs. Shallow breaths are pushing at her chest, but they're wet and raspy.

Yelena can feel the sobs shaking her own body, but sound has begun to fade from her senses, and all she knows is the heat of Kate's blood on her hands as she scrambles to pick the unconscious woman up. Kate's body is a dead weight over her shoulders. Yelena drags the two of them as far away from the crash as she can, and when they reach a spot of snowy grass on the side of the road, she's distantly aware of frantic voices and the wailing of sirens.

"Kate," she sobs, dropping herself and her girlfriend down into the snow. Red immediately begins to stain it. The archer has not stirred, and when Yelena sees the damage down to her face and head, she's sick for a third time. Her head spins mercilessly.

"Please, no."

But Kate is still breathing, so Yelena curls herself around her girlfriend and moans at the pain throbbing through her body.

"Kate Bishop, please. Please."

The ambulance cannot come fast enough.

——

Natasha is there when Yelena wakes up in the hospital, and she stares at her older sister for a few seconds before the redhead realizes she's awake.

"Oh, Yelena," she murmurs, getting out of her chair and hurrying to the side of Yelena's bed, leaning over her to hug her carefully.

"Tasha," Yelena whimpers, reaching out for her sister. Her entire body is aching mercilessly, but the pain dulls once she's wrapped in the love of her family.

Natasha holds her close and gets onto the hospital cot with her sister, brushing a hand through her tangled hair and kissing a bandage on her forehead. "What happened?" she asks softly.

Yelena's eyes immediately well up with tears, her face twisting painfully. "I got distracted, Tasha. There was a truck. And then I- I woke up on the road, and Kate-" She screws her eyes shut, a sob building painfully in her chest. "Is Kate okay, Tasha? Is my Kate Bishop okay?"

Natasha sucks in a breath, and Yelena's heart stops for a moment. "She still hadn't woken up by the time the ambulance got you guys here, and she's in surgery now. Clint is waiting outside her room for any updates."

Yelena can feel her tongue throbbing when she sucks it in between her teeth, and she remembers the blood she spit out of her mouth. "She was bleeding so much, Tasha," she cries softly, bringing a bandaged hand up to cover her burning eyes. "I thought she was dead when I first found her. Oh my god. I could have lost her. Oh my god."

Natasha hugs her closer and tucks Yelena's head under her chin as her little sister begins to sob and hiccup into her chest, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder and laying her cheek on golden hair.

"She's gonna be okay, Yelena. She'll be okay."

Yelena clings to her like a lifeline and wills herself to believe it as the tears soak her face.

——

Kate is officially pronounced to be in a coma two days before Yelena is discharged, and she's losing her shit. She hasn't been allowed to see her girlfriend the entire time she was still stuck in the hospital due to her own injuries, but she's able to stand up without getting too dizzy now and she's already used to the crutches needed for her sprained ankle.

The wound that she had bitten into her tongue had apparently looked and felt a lot worse than it actually was, and Yelena was already back to being able to eat soft foods, and the cut above her eye was scabbed over. Now the only real problems were the bruised ribs and burns on her palms- an annoyance more than anything, but still a major hindrance.

"Am I allowed to see her, now?" Yelena asks anxiously, cornering the doctor that had been sent to officially discharge her before he can leave.

The man sighs and scribbles a few more things down on his clipboard before checking his watch. "Once your sister is here to get a rundown of your at-home care, yes, we can take you to see Miss Bishop."

Yelena resists the urge to tear out her own hair and instead nods gratefully, her fingers pressing into her thighs through the soft pants she'd been given to wear. She'd been offered the option of a wheelchair over the crutches, seeing as her palms were still healing and the sticks were even harder to use without perfectly working hands, but that was too much for Yelena. Being in the hospital again at all was enough trauma to keep her away from people for the rest of her life, but she couldn't leave without Kate. Being confined to a chair would not do.

Natasha arrives with Clint a few minutes later, and the best friends both press kisses to Yelena's head before helping her stand up from her chair. The doctor hands Natasha several pill bottles and a thick paper packet of instructions before shaking her hand, bidding Yelena a speedy recovery, and disappearing into the hallway.

A nurse shows up just as quickly, her smile gentle. "I can take you to see your girlfriend, now, Miss Belova."

Yelena nods gratefully and follows after her with Clint and Natasha on either side, her anxiety building mercilessly in her chest with each heavy step closer to Kate's room. According to Clint, the young archer had been through three surgeries since they'd been admitted, one of which had been on her fucking brain, but all had been 100% successful and she was expected to recover without complications as long as her treatments were administered correctly.

If she woke up.

The door to Kate's room opens, and Yelena's heart drops in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend. She hurries in as fast as she can on the crutches, and ultimately just abandons them on the floor once she's close enough to the bedside chair.

"Kate Bishop," she whimpers softly, a shaking hand reaching out to rest on Kate's arm. The woman looks peaceful enough, but the bandages and wires and tubes turn her into a nightmare. Yelena can feel the tears already falling as she tries and fails to keep her eyes off the more grievous injuries.

Kate's legs are completely covered in wrappings and casts from a total knee replacement surgery and several stitches and broken bones, and her arms are littered with angry bruises and cuts that have minor bandages or some kind of ointment on them, but it's her head that has Yelena's stomach roiling.

The most damage had been done to her skull, she had been told. The whiplash from the crash itself and then hitting the pavement had splintered bone and damaged nerve endings, but the surgery on her brain had thankfully been small and didn't stretch to her spine. Either way, the archer was expected to need physical therapy in order to recover properly when it came to mental capabilities and processes, but seeing as she was still unconscious, they had no idea how extensive the psychological damage was.

"My Kate Bishop," Yelena whispers to herself, twining her fingers with Kate's and laying her head on the edge of the cot. How did this happen? How could this happen to them?

She remembers the ring box she had been carrying around with her for months now and feels a chill shoot down her spine. She already knew that all of their things had been recovered safely, including the ring, but the thought that she had been planning to propose the day of the accident was too much. There was no engagement to talk about- only the fear of a life without Kate Bishop.

Yelena's allowed to stay with her girlfriend until visiting hours are over, and her energy is so sapped that she's barely able to put up a fight before she's back in Clint's car with her sister holding her tightly as she cries. The image is burned into her brain, and it repeats over and over. Kate prone on the ground and covered in blood; Kate unconscious in a hospital bed with brain damage and a broken body.

She takes the pain medicine she's been given and passes out as soon as they get to Clint's house, the sleepy fog a welcome distraction from the hell she was in.

——

Natasha refuses to give her more medicine when she wakes up from the induced haze for the third time, which Yelena logically knows is a fair move, but she's pissed about it nonetheless. The drugs kept the nightmares away, and now with Kate Bishop gone to ward them off and in the fucking hospital, Yelena knows they'll be even worse than normal when they finally catch up to her.

Her grumpiness is temporarily dispelled when her new nephews are plopped carefully in her aching arms, however, and she cries over the two beautiful baby boys as she sinks into the couch and holds them close to her chest. Billy is asleep, his puffy baby lips parted as he smiles in his dreams, but Tommy has his wide green eyes on her with a bewildered look on his squishy face. Yelena can't help but to laugh tearfully as he grips her finger and teethes on it before staring at it in confusion.

"They're beautiful, Tasha," she chokes out, smothering both soft baby heads in kisses and cuddling the boys close.

Natasha's smile is wide, her cheeks glowing as she watches the scene adoringly. "Aren't they?"

Wanda appears from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her wife's waist, laying her cheek against Natasha's shoulder as she gazes at her baby boys and the way her sister-in-law is so gentle with them. "You'd be a good mom, Yelena."

The blonde's tears start anew, and she holds the babies closer. "Kate wants kids," she accounts, rocking her body to keep Billy asleep. He coos softly and presses his head closer to her, giving a tiny yawn while his brother continues to stare. "Fuck, Natasha, she wants kids. She wants kids, and I want kids, and I was gonna propose to her and now she's- fuck. Oh my god."

Wanda carefully takes her sons from Yelena's arms so that Natasha can sit and pull her sister into a tight hug, stroking her hair. "I know, Yelena. I know. She'll be alright. She's gonna wake up soon, and she'll get better, and then you two can get married and make babies and give Billy and Tommy some more cousins and it'll be perfect, okay?"

Yelena's laugh is wobbly and quickly turns back into hiccups, but her sister's words help. "I need to see her. Will you take me to see her?"

"Of course, Yelena. Let's get some food in you and then we can go, alright?"

Yelena nods and accepts the help to hobble to the kitchen table, where Laura is humming and making grilled cheese sandwiches. She plates one with a steaming bowl of tomato soup and puts them on the table in front of Yelena before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Eat up, honey. Drink some water. Breathe."

Yelena melts against her and wraps Laura in an awkward side hug, missing her own mother desperately. The food is hot and delicious, but the flavor barely registers because of how anxious she is to get back to Kate.

The drive to the hospital is much too long, and Yelena has to keep her eyes closed for the majority of it due to the unexpected terror that spikes every time she sees the road rushing past them. Was she going to be too scared to drive ever again? Would she ever feel strong enough to get back behind a wheel?

As long as her Kate is okay, honestly, she couldn't care less.

Kate is looking significantly better when they get to her room, and the tears are so familiar to Yelena at this point that she doesn't even notice them streaming down her cheeks until Natasha brushes them away. The doctor gives them both an update on the archer's condition, lining out the progress her stitches and broken bones and burns are making, even saying that the physical aspects of her head injury are already mending beautifully and much faster than expected.

But she is still unconscious. And Yelena feels like she's going to snap.

She situates herself in the chair next to Kate's bed, marveling at the significant lack of certain wires and tubes that already aren't needed anymore. The bruising and swelling have gone down in several places, and Yelena can taste the salt in her mouth when she tries to give a wobbly smile as she kisses Kate's forehead.

"Hi, babydoll," she whispers, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. Kate's even breaths are hot on her cheek, and she shuts her eyes tightly, willing her girlfriend to wake up. "Please be okay. I need you to be okay."

She and Natasha stay there with Kate for several hours, her older sister getting a few energy drinks from a vending machine and taking a nap while Yelena just holds Kate's hand and talks to her softly.

"You're going to love Tommy and Billy, Kate Bishop," she whispers, stroking a thumb over Kate's wrist. "They're so squishy and cuddly. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Yelena eventually dozes off at one point, and she's thrown back awake by Natasha frantically calling for a doctor. She shoots up with a headache building around the cut on her forehead to see Kate's fingers twitching in her bandaged palm, and a rush of different emotions dumps itself into her system as her sister carefully pries her from the chair she's in so that a doctor can get to Kate.

Yelena stumbles and whips her head around in a panic, her mind whirling. "Tasha? Tasha, what-"

"She's waking up, Yelena- we need to get out of the way."

They end up in the hallway in another set of chairs once Natasha is able to retrieve Yelena's crutches from the panic of the hospital room, and she's wringing her hands for a few minutes before Natasha has had enough.

"You're gonna tear your bandages off like that," she mutters, gently taking Yelena's hands in her own and holding them away from each other. "Breathe, Yelena. They're gonna take care of her."

Yelena forces air into her lungs and blinks hard, failing to keep the tears from falling. Natasha holds her into her side, her big sister supporting her up. "I need her to be okay, Tasha," she murmurs softly, lips twisting. "I need my Kate Bishop."

"I know, Lena. Breathe. Kate's strong. She'll be annoying the shit out of us before you know it."

This gets a wobbly laugh out of the blonde, and she presses her forehead against her sister's in gratitude. "Thank you for being here with me."

"I'm never going anywhere."

"You better not. I'll kick your ass."

They wait about thirty minutes before a doctor opens the door to Kate's room and offers them a relieved smile. "We've got her stabilized and she's lookin' fine," he tells them, offering a clipboard for them to look over with information on her vitals mapped out. "She's a bit disoriented, of course, and her body has been inactive for over a week, so that combined with the beating she took is going to leave her exhausted, but she's currently awake enough to eat and talk. Feel free to go in and see her for a moment while we get some treatment plans worked out."

Natasha thanks him and helps a restless Yelena stand and hobble back into the room, where Kate is propped up against a mound of pillows with a fresh pain medication IV drip in her arm and new vital monitors hooked up to her fingers. She spots the two sisters and gives a weary smile, the bags under her eyes dark.

"Hey, Natasha," she croaks, voice rough from not being used for over a week. The sunlight from the window casts her in a honey golden glow, and Yelena doesn't think she's ever seen anything more beautiful than her Kate Bishop alive and well. (As well as she can be.)

Yelena can feel her eyes flood with tears for the millionth time, but she manages to hold them back as she pushes from her sister and hurries to Kate's bedside, cupping the archer's cheek gently and pressing a desperately soft kiss to her dry lips. "I'm so glad you're okay," she chokes out, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's, mindful of the bandages and stitches.

Kate lets out a noise of surprise, and when Yelena leans back in confusion, something cold and terrifying slips into her heart at the look in Kate's eyes.

"Oh. Um- wow. Not that I'm gonna complain about being kissed by a beautiful woman as soon as I wake up, because, like, damn. But, uh... hi. Are... you a friend of Natasha's?"

-—

Yelena is completely silent on the drive home, her eyes dazed and unfocused and staring absently out of the window with a slack jaw. They were sent back out of the room almost as soon as the doctors realized the one problem with Kate's condition. The one mental process that had been damaged.

Memory loss.

But why only Yelena?

She doesn't hear Natasha trying to talk to her, doesn't register Laura or the dogs or her parents who arrived while they were at the hospital. She doesn't feel the arms around her shoulders, doesn't feel the scalding shower water on her broken skin, doesn't feel the drug induced fog taking her until she's already gone.

And she is desperate to stay gone.

Natasha lets her stay gone a lot longer this time.

It's a few days until she comes back around, her mother's soothing touch in her hair ringing through to her brain as Melina sits silently at her daughter's bedside. The woman gives her a tearful smile when Yelena's eyes land on her and focus, registering her mother after a moment.

"Mama."

"Hello, malaya medveditsa." Melina presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I am so happy you are here." Yelena knows she doesn't just mean here as in Clint's farm.

"I miss you," Yelena whispers, her lips twisting up as her brain slowly remembers more and more. Alexei appears in the doorway and sits on the other side of the bed, his weight nearly toppling it. He takes her free hand, and Yelena starts to hiccup softly.

"Papa."

Her parents just hold her.

Are you a friend of Natasha's?

——

Yelena turns down every offer to go visit Kate in the hospital, and she can feel her heart wither away more and more each time. But she can't do it. She can't. The way Kate looked at her, that light of unfamiliarity in someone's eyes when a stranger acts like they know them...

God, she kissed her, and Kate doesn't even know who she is.

Why did Kate only forget Yelena?

(Because the author said so. The author can do whatever they want. That is the beauty of fanfiction. It's okay I hate myself too.)

Each new update from Clint and Natasha kills Yelena a little more, and by the time a week has passed since Kate woke up, she's nearly screaming with how restless and lost she feels.

Kate is healing wonderfully and ahead of schedule. They've already got her started on physical and speech therapy. Her stitches can come out soon. Her blood pressure is back to normal. She can eat solid foods without assistance.

She doesn't know who Yelena is.

Her palms are finally healed enough for her to use her hands at 100%, so she starts working out in her room- pull ups on the door frame, mostly. Her ankle still has a boot on it, which means no runs yet.

It makes her want to die.

The day that Kate is scheduled to be discharged, Yelena finds herself stealing Natasha's car and driving so far out into the countryside that her ass is numb and not a single speck of civilization can be found. The boot and nervousness can only stop her so much.

She has several missed calls from her sister, but doesn't bother to return them until she's sure that the location for her phone is turned off.

"Where the hell are you?"

Yelena frowns slightly at the harshness in her sister's tone, but she knows it's deserved. "Out."

"Where, Yelena."

"I don't know, actually. Somewhere. Far."

"Jesus Christ, Yelena. You scared the shit out of us."

Yelena is silent for a moment, but then she forces the words out. "How's Kate?"

It's Natasha's turn to be quiet. "She's good. She's back at the house now. She... she keeps asking about you."

The breath feels like it's been punched from Yelena's body. "She what?"

"Well, it's probably nagging at her that a woman she doesn't recognize kissed her and then never came to see her again."

"That's not fair, Tasha," Yelena whispers.

"No, I know it's not. I'm sorry. It's just... do you know what you want to do about it?"

"What's there to do, Tasha? The love of my life doesn't know who I am. Sounds simple enough."

"You're not gonna try to help her remember?"

"The way I see it, she needs to be able to focus on getting better without some stranger claiming she's her girlfriend and causing her even more problems. She wouldn't-" Yelena stops and sucks in a breath as she leans her head on the car, eyes blurring with tears. "It's my fault, Tasha. It's my fault she almost died."

"Yelena."

"I don't care if that's stupid and childish. I want to stay away from her, okay? Please. I can't do this. I can't stand for her to look at me and not know who I am."

"But what if there's a chance for her to remember?" Natasha says weakly. "What about the ring, Yelena?"

Yelena hangs up, tosses her phone into the car, and slides down into the grass to curl in on herself and let the sobs fall from her mouth.

Fuck the ring.

Fuck everything.

——

Yelena returns to the farm only to drop off Natasha's car and pack her bag, throwing the duffel over her shoulder and heading back down the stairs towards the front door as quietly as she can. She's nearly there when a voice sounds from the couch in the main room, and her blood chills.

"You're Natasha's sister, right?"

Yelena's head turns slowly to see Kate Bishop laid across the couch, her legs and back both propped up on pillows with a blanket over her lap and a compression bandage around her forehead. Her heart is trying to decide between beating an extra million times per minute or just stopping entirely.

"What?" she chokes out, something hot and uncomfortable already building in her chest.

"Are you Natasha's sister?" Kate sits up a little more, the action making her wince. Yelena is moving towards her to help her before she can stop herself, but Kate accepts the offered hand with a look of appreciation. There's a fucking tingle when their skin touches.

"Yes, I am," Yelena says roughly, taking a rushed step back. There must be something concerning in her eyes, because Kate's brow furrows softly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice is stiff. The blood is pounding too loudly in her ears, and the backs of her eyes are burning so hot she can barely see. "I'm glad you're alright, Kate." Yelena turns quickly and hurries for the door, but Kate's voice stops her again.

"This is yours, Yelena. Natasha found it in between the couch cushions when she was setting it up for me and asked if I could give it to you when you got back."

Shit.

"Yelena?"

She doesn't have to turn back around to know that Kate is holding the ring box in the very hand that was originally supposed to wear the jewel in the first place.

"Ask Natasha to hold onto it for me, will you?" Yelena says roughly, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"I know you, don't I?"

Yelena slumps forward and leans her head on the door heavily, the sobs already threatening to break loose. I can't do this. "Did Tasha tell you something?"

"Nobody has told me anything. It's driving me fucking crazy." Kate's voice is low and agitated. "They said I have memory loss, but they won't tell me what I've forgotten. Only details from the crash I was in. But you're on my lock screen and there's a Polaroid of us in the back of my phone."

Yelena can feel herself start to hyperventilate, but she clamps down on it and forces her chest to stay still.

"Were you in the crash, too? Is that what happened to your foot?"

She's getting dizzy.

"Who are you to me, Yelena?"

The edges of her vision are going dark.

"Yelena?"

She shoves down on the door handle and lurches forward out of the house, barely managing to get past the threshold before stumbling and crashing down onto the porch as her eyes roll back and her chest screams at her to breathe. But she can't. She can't breathe. Everything is too tight and too hot and she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't-

——

Yelena's head is foggy from the remnants of a nightmare, but a face appears in the blur of her vision and looms over her.

"I can't tell who you are," she croaks, "but if you don't get out of my face, I'm going to punch you."

Natasha's chuckle sounds forced as she leans back. "Fair enough."

"Jesus Christ. What happened this time?"

"You passed out on the porch. Kate said she thinks you were having a panic attack."

Fuck.

"I can't do this, Tasha. I can't do this."

"She wants to see you."

"I can't." Yelena's eyes well up and she presses her fists into them, mouth twisting painfully as a broken wail splits her throat. "I can't do this. I barely made it through her getting to know me the first time, Tasha. I can't do it again. I can't tell her about all the people I've killed again. I can't watch her face when she finds out how much blood I've spilt. I can't do it."

"Yelena-"

"I don't deserve her, Natasha!"

Her sister is quiet, a firm hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing. Yelena's body rocks with hiccups, and the despair in her blood is thick.

"How long have you been having worries about your relationship with Kate, Yelena?" Natasha asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her baby sister's face.

Yelena doesn't respond for a few minutes as she tries to get her breathing back under control, and Natasha helps her sit up before getting her a glass of water and some of her non-drowsy pain medication.

"A while, I guess," she mutters lowly, staring sorrowfully down into the cup as she clasps it between her palms. The cold glass is soothing on her palms, which may be fully healed but are still easily aggravated. "Like I'm not enough for her. She needs more. I can't give her more."

"And you still wanted to propose?"

"I thought that maybe it would fix me."

Natasha pulls Yelena into her chest and holds her tight, kissing her hair.

"I thought that maybe if we got married, I wouldn't be scared anymore. It would be cemented, her and me. She wouldn't say yes if she wasn't sure, right?" Yelena whispers, tears pooling and dripping onto Natasha's sweater.

"But should you propose in the first place if you're not 100% sure about it yourself?" Natasha tucks away another strand of hair, cupping her sister's cheek.

"But I- I am sure, Tasha. I want Kate Bishop forever. Just my Kate Bishop. She's all I need."

"What makes you think she doesn't feel the same way about you, Yelena?"

"Because I-" She stops, bottom lip quivering as her shoulders shake. "I'm a mess. I'm broken, Tasha," she whispers, eyes blurry. "She deserves someone who isn't broken."

Natasha tuts and cups Yelena's face with both hands, leveling their stares. "Yelena. Honey. We're all a little broken." She kisses the healing cut on her forehead. "Kate loves you. Even now. I can see it. Wanda can see it. Clint and Laura and the kids and the twins and the dogs can see it." Yelena hiccups a small laugh. "She may not remember the face, but she sure as hell remembers the feeling. She sees you and instinctively feels love."

"Do you really think so?" Yelena whispers after a moment, sniffing softly.

Natasha's smile is sad but assuring. "I do. She just needs to be given a chance to remember."

"What if she's different? What if she has an out and doesn't want me? What if she hates me, Natasha?"

"Then we learn and adapt- and I don't think that'll happen." Her sister leans their foreheads together, muttering soothingly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll be here no matter what happens, you know that."

They stay that way for a moment until the door opens and Wanda appears with Billy asleep in her arms, smiling softly at the two sisters. Natasha seems to glow when she spots her wife, and she stands to hug the woman and kiss both her and her son. "Hi, detka."

Wanda hums and kisses Nat softly, then takes her spot on the bed next to Yelena. "I thought a good baby cuddle might help you feel better."

"You know me so well," Yelena jokes softly, holding her arms out for the baby. Billy is placed gently into them, and she cradles him close, pressing her lips to his soft head and inhaling his baby smell. "Fresh baby," she whispers with a grin, looking at him adoringly.

Natasha cackles and her wife scowls good-naturedly, slapping her arm. "That's exactly what I said when I saw them for the first time!"

"I was exhausted, and she went straight for the boys first, only to fucking say fresh baby," Wanda gripes, but her eyes are soft and she loops an arm around Natasha's waist.

Yelena smiles and laughs softly, bouncing the baby gently as he shifts and yawns, his eyes fortunately staying closed. "Hello, tiny boy," she whispers to him, stroking a knuckle over his soft hair and squishy cheeks. "You are so precious."

"Kate is holding Tommy right now, if you want to go see her?" Wanda offers carefully, Natasha squeezing her hip.

Yelena pauses and looks up at them, brow furrowed.

"She has a really high chance of gaining all of her memory back if she's able to interact with what she's forgotten, Yelena," Natasha says gently, leaning her cheek against her wife's head.

The blonde sucks at her lip anxiously, glancing back down to the sleeping baby in her arms. He gives another big yawn and stretches his pudgy fingers out, eyes cracking open to look up at her. "What do you think, Billy Boy Baby?" Yelena whispers, tapping his nose softly. "Should we go visit Kate Bishop and your brother?"

He smiles sleepily before yawning again and snuggling back into her arms.

"I guess that's a yes," Yelena murmurs. She looks back up at Wanda and Natasha, eyes stinging. "I don't know if I can do it. I'm scared, Tasha. What if I can't do it?"

Her sister moves back towards her and hugs Yelena's shoulders. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Yelena. Give yourself a chance, okay?"

"...Okay."

Kate is sitting up on the couch with the footrest up and Tommy perched happily in her lap when Yelena appears in the main room, Wanda and Natasha right behind her. She's not allowed to walk and hold Billy at the same time due to her boot, but once she's sat down in a chair next to the couch, they place the baby back in her arms. Kate watches her closely the whole time, absentmindedly patting Tommy's back.

Yelena waits until the two other women have left the room before glancing up and meeting Kate's gaze, heart pounding against her ribs. "Hi, Kate Bishop."

The archer's smile is beaming, recognition shining in her eyes. "Hi, Yelena."

——

By the time Kate's knee is healed up enough for her to use a cane instead of a walker, she and Yelena have gone back to spending almost every waking moment together. More and more pieces of her memory come back every day the more they talk, and everyone else can see Kate falling in love with Yelena all over again.

And she's not shy about it, either. The first thing that she's filled in on is the timeline of their relationship, spanning from when they first met at a surprise party Natasha was throwing for Clint, to when they started dating, their first kiss, their first time together, the adventures they'd been on, all the way up to the car crash.

With all of this in mind, Kate figures there's no reason for her to hold back when she starts regaining memories and therefore feelings. She notices how beautiful Yelena's smile is, so she tells her. She remembers the way her face looks when she comes, and doesn't even hesitate before letting Yelena know that it's one of the hottest things she's ever seen.

"Can I kiss you?" Kate asks one evening, staring up at Yelena from where her head is resting in the blonde's lap. Yelena's hands go still, the tv screen blaring red when her character dies, but she's unbothered.

"What?" She glances down at Kate, whose head bandages are already gone.

"Can I kiss you?" she repeats, smiling wide. She reaches a hand up to cup Yelena's face, which is already red. Another thing she had gotten to learn about her girlfriend again- Yelena appeared so stoic, but when Kate flirted even a little bit, she blushed like a fucking tomato.

"Are you sure?" Yelena frowns and brushes a hand through Kate's hair, and the woman purrs happily, her eyes closing with content. Good lord, she was adorable. "You don't have to. I'm not rushing either of us. We have all the time in the world now, detka."

Kate smiles lazily and looks back up at her girlfriend- god, that word sounded so good- and gives a soft nod. "I'm sure. Yes. Please."

Yelena's breath hitches, and she puts the controller that she's still holding down to stroke a knuckle over Kate's cheek. "You're sure-sure?" she whispers, eyes hooded as they dart to Kate's lips. She would be lying, of course, if she said she hadn't wanted to kiss the archer breathless from the moment she'd come out of her coma, but after kissing Kate before realizing the woman didn't recognize her, she had stayed away from the topic out of shame.

Kate's own breath catches at the look on Yelena's face, and she grabs the hand that Yelena has on her face softly, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against the calloused palm. "I'm sure-sure."

Yelena can feel her heart thudding against her ribs, and she feels like a teenager again, spotting Kate for the first time through a crowd of people she wished she could avoid. "Okay," she whispers, shifting and cupping Kate's face gently.

"Okay?" The archer smiles almost shyly, lashes fluttering.

"Okay." Yelena leans down and presses her lips to Kate's ever so softly, breathing the archer in and feeling herself already getting high on the scent of flannel and pine.

She breaks off, and Kate stares at her, starstruck. "Wow," she mumbles, lips parted.

Yelena laughs softly, her cheeks burning. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate leans up and captures Yelena's mouth in hers again, cupping the back of her head and kissing her hard. The blonde groans and wraps her arms around the archer, pressing them both carefully into the couch.

Yelena hisses a sigh and opens her mouth a little wider when Kate bites softly at her bottom lip, and the woman's tongue licks past them heatedly.

Jesus Christ, she had missed this.

Yelena tangles her hand into Kate's dark hair and tugs at it softly, earning a soft gasp from her before the blonde moves down her neck, trailing her lips along the strong jawline and nipping at her pulse.

"I love you, Kate Bishop," she growls softly, sucking a bruise into the soft skin under the archer's ear and soothing over it with her tongue. Kate pants breathlessly into her ear, and holy shit Yelena is turned on.

"Maybe wait to bang it out until Kate is fully healed?"

And just like that, the spell is broken, and Yelena promptly falls off of the couch. Classic.

"Наташа, клянусь Богом, я надеру тебе задницу!" she yells at her sister as she sits up, her cheeks burning furiously. Kate's face is just as red as hers, but there's a mischievous light in her eyes that lights Yelena's stomach on fire.

Natasha cackles so hard that she doubles over with her arms around her stomach, wiping tears from her eyes. Yelena is fuming. Kate is blushing. No one is being productive.

"Sorry, sorry- I had to." Natasha pauses, her grin wicked. "Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You two are both so fucking horny for each other and it's just the funniest thing ever. I can't with y'all."

Yelena can only gape at her sister, who shrugs and heads up the stairs. "Wanda is taking a nap, so keep it quiet, will you?"

She swears colorfully under her breath and huffs, but her blood feels like lightning zaps through it when Kate's hand reaches over and cups her chin, her head twisted to face the archer.

"Don't pout, poor girl. Are you really horny for me?"

Yelena's face goes supernova.

Fuck you, Natasha.

"Fuck you, Kate Bishop," she says out loud.

Her girlfriend's smile is sly. "Literally, I hope?"

"Kate!"

The archer cackles and slumps back on the couch, holding her aching stomach. "You're too cute, baby."

Yelena only grumbles, scowling as she tries to decide if tickling Kate and possibly reopening any injuries would be worth it. Kate sees her face and stops abruptly, pointing.

"Yelena Belova, you are not allowed to tickle me," she warns, raising a brow.

Yelena narrows her eyes and leans into her girlfriend's face, somehow gaining the bravado to smirk in a way she knew always got Kate going. "How about we get married and I show you just how hard I can tickle you, Kate Bishop?"

Kate squints, the tips of her ears red. "I can't tell if you're proposing or threatening me with a good time."

The blonde shrugs. "Why not both?"

Her girlfriend smiles brightly, her eyes wide. "Are you seriously fucking proposing to me right now, Yelena Belova?"

"Maybe?"

Kate hums roughly and leans forward to kiss her hard, pressing her palm to the back of Yelena's head to hold her closer. "You must really like me, Miss Belova," she whispers in between breaths, "to propose- after kissing me only once- since I even remembered who you are."

Yelena smiles into Kate's lips and slowly maneuvers to stand up while still kissing her, moving forward to straddle the archer's lap. Kate lets out a soft noise, and Yelena silences it, tracing her tongue along the archer's soft bottom lip and tugging it between her teeth.

"Are you guys serious right now?"

Yelena just kisses Kate harder and takes a first of dark hair, swallowing every noise and moan her girlfriend makes while flipping Natasha off from where her sister had appeared at the top of the stairs. The redhead just groans and turns right back around, muttering under her breath. "I just wanted a fucking sandwich."

Yelena huffs a laugh and breaks off from Kate for a small moment, both of them breathing hard with flushed cheeks and warm stomachs. "Yes, Kate Bishop. I like you. Quite a bit, actually, I hope you've noticed."

Kate can only nod, her eyes wide and a little unfocused. She is the poster child of freshly kissed.

Yelena grins and kisses her cheek softly, whispering against the soft skin. "Will you marry me, Kate Bishop?"

#bishova #katelena #fanfiction #oneshot #Angstshot #angst #Wandanat #Billy and Tommy #Kate bishop #Yelena belova #car crash #Wanda Maximoff #Natasha Romanoff

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ghouldtime · 2 months ago

Note

Hello again! Since you said that you HC König to be Styrian, do you think he'd be the kind of person to sometimes speak his dialect with reader to tease them a little? The dialect is kinda hard to understand for people, who only speak High German (the German you find in texts and the one you're taught at school and stuff). Because I speak with a dialect as well and I'd love nothing more than to banter with König in our Austrian dialect together! Of course, there's a thousand dialects in Austria! So, someone from Styria has a hard time understanding someone from Vorarlberg, but still! (Also, because I HC him from the southern part of Styria, I like to imagine he "barks" a little when he speaks! It's gotten better as he grew up, but when he gets drunk he still barks, which makes it harder to understand him! It's really hard to understand some people from southern Styria >.< Are we allowed to share our own HCs with you? I just thought it'd make sense since I am Austrian! Not trying to sound entitled or anything, of course! But I just love giving him HCs of things I'm familiar with :>)

Anyway, sorry for the long ask! Have a nice day! ^^

💚💚💚💚💚 HELLLLOO it's great to see you back again :D I hope you're doing well! Also prefacing this with I'm an American so I'm admittedly not the most well versed in everything Austrian! I do put in my research and know some but I haven't even been there so if I'm ever wrong, absolutely feel free to correct me (I try my best not to be totally ignorant)

To answer your question simply in one word: ABSOLUTELY. Caps, bold, and all.

Naturally, his default IS his dialect. That's what he grew up speaking, that's what he learned, that's what sounds the most correct to him. Yes, it's not the standard, but it's HIS standard.

If reader doesn't know his dialect or if he's going out of his way to be a bit of a little shit, he'll be teasing about it - he's got a sense of humor (as unconventional as it might be). Assuming reader is learning German, he of course will still be helpful with teaching! He'll speak the "textbook" standard, but he's still slipping his dialect in, especially if they're catching onto what he's saying and he wants to make a sly comment.

What did he just say? Oh, nothing, you'll figure it out :) .... eventually, in due time.... and maybe a few post it notes in your text books there...

If they already know German, he'll pretty much insist on his dialect and will maybe speak a bit slower if you're lucky. But he'll talk so much if he likes you, you'll catch on - sooner or later (all apart of his masterplan). He's far more comfortable speaking German so he naturally adopts a faster talking pace too to match

Side note Dialects are SO interesting. One of my pals is Norwegian and he'd look me dead in the eyes and switch to another dialect whenever I understood him. Frustrating, actually pretty hilarious, and gives me MORE incentive to learn and to try and figure it out. How a single language can vary so differently from place to place in the same country is very interesting to see and hear alike

(Also you're absolutely welcome to share head cannons with me anytime!! 💚💚💚 I love hearing them and I love seeing that people can relate and have their own experiences to add. It really adds depth when we know we're never getting more than the bare minimum and it's not entitled at all its so nice to hear these little details)

I'm absolutely on board with that head cannon and support it FULLY in every sense of the word. That's 110% HIM. Since he wasn't much of a talker as a kid too I think it certainly was much more pronounced for that reason before it lessened as he grew up, and especially had more exposure to his peers.

I adore niche head cannons like this, it's my bread and butter. Because you KNOW we'd not get that level of love and attention to detail with or from the game alone and it's just adding that extra pizzazz, that extra depth that he deserves

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 If you don't mind, I'll adopt that for him because it's so perfect??? It's so him I just love the idea so so so much

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erelavent · 2 months ago

Text

I listened to the hour long high performance podcast with Otmar, which wasn't easy, he's pretty dry, but he drops some truth bombs. Tea is in Red, Interesting facts/stories are in Purple, My Opinions are in Green.

Here is a breakdown:

He discusses that his failure at Aston Martin was due to Lawrence Stroll wanting rapid success after he bought the team. He mentioned that AM was like a church with 2 popes because Martin Whitmarsh was installed into the team and took over 90% of his responsibilities, so he couldn't really do much. He didn't try to challenge the decision too much because Lawrence owned the team, and he has the right to change what he wants.

Over at Alpine, the failure was similar. He didn't have control over the entire team. He said neither the finance team nor HR, communications, or marketing reported to him, they reported to France. He didn't know that would be the case when he signed.

He also wants to clear up that he had nothing to do with Alpine fumbling Oscar Piastri. The failure to sign him and properly file the CRB happened in November, and he started in March. Alpine let him to the fall for their incompetence by putting his face on the press release. He states that the decision to do it was intentional and malicious because he asked the press officer about it and she was specifically told to do that 😭. He mentions that Alpine didn't care about on-track performance so much as the people in charge cared about their careers. Given the closing of the power unit development program, and the reported rampant corruption over there I'm inclined to agree with him.

He mentions that even though they didn't sign Oscar Piastri, they did deliver their end of the contract in giving him 5000km of running time in a 2-year old F1 car to ensure he had the experience to get his superlicense points. He thinks that Oscar not signing after Alpine essentially strung him along is unjust enrichment because he received the benefits of the contract without having to give anything back. We'll agree to disagree on that one.

He throws a bit of shade at Alpine by saying that when he was there, at least they were in the mid-field but now they're 9th in the championship.

He mentioned that when he was there Alpine was 25 horsepower down on power on their engine unit and that there is a gentleman's agreement between engine manufacturers that if you are low on horsepower (regardless of an engine freeze), you are allowed to get it back up and he was advocating for Alpine to get it back to equal levels with all the other manufacturers.

He got fired in a Zoom meeting by the head of HR at Renault, not the CEO of Alpine or a superior. Team principals, they're just like us.

He thinks he was fired because he disagreed on how to change the corporate culture at Alpine. They wanted him to get rid of people who had been at Alpine for a long time and were doing a good job and he disagreed because that sends the message that "Doing a good job gets you fired." He thinks this is directly tied to the collapse of Alpine because all their best staff are currently at other teams.

He said if this ever happened again, he would require that he owns all aspects of leadership at a team rather than having them report to his higher ups. That's common sense I fear. He should have learned that lesson at Aston Martin.

He quoted Peter Drucker by saying "Culture eats strategy for breakfast", which shouldn't have been as surprising to me as it was lmao. They're both Austrian-American management guys but like it caught me off guard.

He discusses the need for psychologically safe environments in F1 teams so people are free to make mistakes and improve without fear of your team member or management stabbing you in the back.

He discusses how applying the theory of a psychologically safe environment is easy when you're winning but much harder when you backslide (*cough* Mercedes *cough*). He says that in times of difficulty, leaders have to be able to take responsibility when they make mistakes because it sets the tone for others. However, it's complicated in an F1 team because not all leaders at each strata may implement this strategy so it's not as effective.

He discusses the need for empathy in making the workplace a safe and enjoyable space because that looks different for everyone, some people care about getting paid more and some care about the breadth and depth of work they get to do.

At this point, the interview starts to sound less like a podcast and more like a job interview. Idk if the hosts realize they're doing this but they're asking "How did you as a TP change the work culture?" "How did you ensure the workspace was enjoyable?" and they're making him give examples. it's not really a conversation so much as him listing his strengths and weaknesses and using the STAR method, but we power on.

He discusses Racing Point and how he personally recruited half the team after assessing what they were lacking compared to other F1 teams. He mentions that the only way he was able to poach top talent at other teams was by creating a culture that made people want to work there.

He talks about how he got clever with the Racing Point budget to make the team an enjoyable place to work including shopping for work benches at Costco (I agree Costco keeps the cost low).

He tells this funny story about Lawrence Stroll taking a tour of the factory to determine whether or not to buy the team. Lawrence walks in to the electronics department to find them instrumenting a front wing with an engineer on a stool balancing the wing on a trash can to get it at the right height.

He said that Vijay Mallya was really hands off at Racing Point which made for a successful team because the team was able to do what they do best without a micromanager watching over them.

He says that compared to Vijay, Lawrence is the opposite because he's completely financially and emotionally invested in the team but it works because Lawrence hates losing and he's not afraid to put his money where his mouth is.

He confirms the story that TWICE, with his partner at Soft Pauer, he paid the salaries of all Racing Point employees out of his own pocket because the payment for F1 was coming in late (he mentioned that by the end of his tenure, there were 408 employees and it was in the millions for pay). With the exception of the higher ups and the finance department, the employees didn't know. He said it was a risk because the money from F1 might not have come or it could have come in and being relegated to other causes and he might not have gotten the money back.

I'm sorry but I'm not gonna clap for Otmar for paying the Force India employees' salaries out of pocket TWICE because how much money was he making to be able to afford to do that in the first place? Does that not speak to an extreme disparity in pay between the team principal and the other employees? It's like when a CEO makes 200 times the average worker. Maybe instead of paying out of pocket, you should have shrunk the pay gap and put the extra funds in an emergency fund for moments when pay would be late.

He said he paid it twice to maintain team morale, even though he didn't tell the employees because why would he, he's not trying to lord it over them.

After he is asked how he gets his business partner who doesn't even work for Racing Point to help pay for the team's salaries and how he poached Andrew Green from Red Bull, Otmar talks about building trusting relationships by listening to the lowest dissenter rather than dismissing them while still giving weight to subject matter experts.

Otmar mentions that what he likes most about F1 is the immediacy of the competition. You see results almost immediately week after week as opposed to waiting 4 years at a car company to see results (he compares it to his days working at Ford).

Otmar says that ideally, he would like a build a new American-backed F1 team in 2-3 years with the right people.

"We're a sport, supposedly." —Otmar Szafnauer (lmao). He mentioned that out of the hundreds to thousands of people working on an F1 team, only 2 are actually sportsmen. So, in reality teams in F1 are really just technological development companies.

In that vein, you respect the drivers but also need to make it known that they don't know everything. He mentions that drivers are supreme athletes but for a lot of them, that came at the cost of a formal education (place your bets as to who he's talking about) so you treat them differently to say, an aerodynamicist.

The host says that this episode was likely filmed 1-2 days after Daniel liked drove in F1 for the last time. I'm not sure if he means Singapore or any of the other times Daniel was rumored to have his last drive. The host asks if, due to this lack of education, we (the general audience of F1) are to harsh on drivers when they underperform. Otmar says F1 is a meritocracy and thus teams have to do what is needed to ensure they perform best in the championship including dropping a driver midseason based on the availability of other drivers and their stats. I disagree, F1 is definitely not a meritocracy.

He mentions that when Logan was dropped, he thought that his replacement would need 3-4 races to adjust but he was wrong because Franco Colapinto got up to speed almost immediately. So though it's a tough position to be in, he understands the need to maintain positions in the WCC.

Otmar says that Daniel was a brilliant driver and he's unsure if his decline is due to confidence because the engineers at Alpine (Renault at the time) sang Daniel's praises and he knows that he eventually outperformed Nico Hulkenberg.

Best driver Otmar worked with is Seb at Aston Martin because of his relentless work ethic. He explains that during restarts, Seb would ask the engineers to measure which part of the track had the highest grip so that in the off chance he was in the lead, he would know to accelerate in that area giving him an advantage over the other drivers. He liked that Seb left no stone unturned and he admired that.

Driver Otmar would never like to work with again is Rubens Barichello (he chose him cuz he's old lol). He tells the story of Rubens complaining that the tyre was shifting on it's rim and underbraking. Otmar thought he was making it up because he didn't think he could feel that and that it was more likely that the grip would deteriorate before the seal for the tyre rim did but Rubens was adamant so they marked it. They checked at the end and it had moved a few degrees but he felt it.

Otmar would have loved to be a TP to either Max or Lando (he knows Lando's dad). He thinks Lando is too hard on himself and if he could be more positive, it would suit him well. He talks about injecting him with some American optimism.

Otmar talks about his other business, EventR. Its an interactive and collaborative itinerary and he created it while at Aston Martin to deal with logistics and changes in a more streamlined way.

TLDR; this entire podcast was a job interview of Otmar's effective leadership and why a team should hire him.

#f1 #otmar szafnauer #lawrence stroll #martin whitmarsh #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #lando norris #sebastian vettel #rubens barrichello #nico hulkenberg #logan sargeant #franco colapinto #renault #alpine f1 #aston martin f1 #racing point #high performance podcast #super long read

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sparklingmineraltequila · 3 months ago

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American Wasteland

Note: Finally, a Cassandra POV. Sorry that it's a tiny bit shorter but I have had one of most emotionally traumatising weeks of my life. Don't worry, next chapter I'm back on my shit with smut and all.

Warnings: 18+, drugs, alcohol, sex work, references to past abuse, domestic violence

Hot afternoons can feel like an impending scream. It's the mundanity about them that has always killed Cassandra. All the filth and despair of wide, yawning night with its neon lights and hookers on pavements and aching solitude is manageable; at least she can focus her misery on something concrete. But these baked afternoons, when the hours bleed into one amalgam of humming fans and beading sweat, plunge her into a white hot light of clarity at just how fucking sad she is. She's indulging herself too. Has been for the past three fucking hours, doing nothing but picking at her nail beds and staring at a stack of Crash's books against the wall and studying them. He dog-ears his pages, she already knows that, and from here she can see that he cracks the spines too, not surprising. Cassandra quickly pushes down the bubbling sentimentality she feels at the closeness of Crash in those simple acts. Harder still when thinking about those ice blues eyes, the absent minded twisting of a wedding band that's no longer there but the memory of an ex-wife that Cassandra knows nothing about but her name, that oily scent of tobacco on his fingers when he pushes them past her lips. The trailer door opens and he comes in: Crash holding a pharmacy bag,

'You're up,' he states, not daring to make eye contact after what transpired last night. Cassandra thinks it's the first sheepishness she's ever seen cross the stoic lines of his face. She doesn't reply.

'I got you some aspirin,' he continues, setting the bag next to the bed, regarding her for a moment longer which she returns with a glacial look.

'I don't have to talk to you,' Cassandra deadpans, not even bothering to sit up.

'I know,' Rust returns, with an equal frostiness that sends Cassandra into indignant fury.

'How dare you take that mild-ass tone with me,' she spits, now shifting to sit up, 'I got fucking drugged and fucked and then made a complete goddamn fool of myself spewing my guts on the side of the road like some fucking teenager.'

'You are a teenager.'

'I'm twenty fucking years old.'

'Oh you think that a couple months, some cussing and hard-ass attitude means you ain't a teenager. You've still got your goddamn baby hairs, Cassandra.'

He's right and it makes her sick. All the things that she's done to shed that oppressive sheath of girlhood to become a woman. Woman: the word always seemed glossy and unattainable to Cassandra. Fuck if she didn't practice at whatever she thought it entailed: learning how to properly inhale, switching from tights to stay-ups, conditioning herself to like beer by forcing herself to order Blue Ribbons when she went out. It would also mean a whole new type of navigation in her relationships with men; the idea of sex now lingering behind every exchange. Sex. It's what has practically defined her life since she went through puberty. Who to do it with, who not to, how to use it, how to make that biker think you want him without ending with your head bashed against the stage when he realises you don't. Cassandra has learnt to keep her desire and attraction to a minimum. Like with dope dealers, the dumbest shit you can do is get addicted to what you sell. Then Crash came along and fucked up her whole plan. In and out of stripping, pay for rent and save up for student debt, get away from dad and stay alive and sane. But no, not since that night that he came in that year ago, hair starting to turn from that golden to the caramel brown that it is now and cut surprisingly short for a biker. He'd sat with Ginger and a few other of the Iron Crusaders, nursing a Lone Star with a look. far more terrifying than the feral cruelty behind his companions' eyes: ice cold impassivity. A man with nothing to lose has a degree of violence to him allowed by his complete detachment to anything and anyone. Cassandra knew this and yet still locked eyes with him every time she saw him watching her on stage. Never a lap dance, though. She'd tried once and his disgust had made her feel smaller than any of the copious insults dolled out by her father,

'No.' Crash had said firmly, pushing her off with a surprising gentleness.

'It's fine, y'know. It's my job,' Cassandra had tried to reassure him, sitting next to him. He'd turned to look at her and had asked,

'How old are you?'

That had made her arch her eyebrow,

'19. Why? You like 'em older?'

To a less observant person, Rust's jaw muscle twitching would've gone unnoticed,

'Yeah, I do,' he'd said, shoving a twenty dollar bill in her panties' waistband, Cassandra noticing how he'd chosen to place it on her hipbone, 'Clear off, baby.'

'Want me to send over Rose? Red-head, real pretty.'

As Cassandra had said this, a burly Iron Crusader had called her name from across the club, making her turn,

'Yeah, baby?'

'Come bring that pretty, lil' ass over to daddy's lap,' the man had slurred, making Cassandra wince and start to head in his direction. That was until Rust had grabbed her wrist, halting her,

'Easy, Thunder,' he had called over to his fellow Crusader, 'I haven't decided whether to take this one for a spin, yet. She any good?'

'The best, Crash,' Thunder had cackled back, raising his beer in salute to him. With that, Crash had pulled her down into the booth next to him, lighting and a cigarette with complete disregard towards a confused Cassandra perched next to him. When she'd tried to straddle him again, he'd pushed her off,

'Listen, I have a quota to make so do you want a fucking lap dance or not?' She had huffed with a slight agitation in her voice that she hadn't yet learned how to conceal. In those days, she was hungry for it: money, sex, attention, security. Too hungry to learn how to manage it when it spilled over and tinged her tone in desperation.

'What's your quota?' Rust had asked through an exhale of smoke, seemingly uninterested.

'Around 50 dollars, at least.'

He'd arched his eyebrow at her,

'You tryin' to do one over me?'

'I'm desperate, not stupid. If I was trying to scam someone, I'd have picked some liquored up truck driver who hasn't gotten some since Missouri,' Cassandra had stated dryly, making Rust's lip quirk up momentarily.

'50 dollars, at least, by the end of your shift, huh?' he'd drawled, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

'Yeah.'

'What time's your shift end?'

'About another hour.'

'How much money are you on?'

'Straight floor work? About 40.'

Rust had reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered, leather wallet before putting down 5 ten dollar bills,

'50 but you stick with me until you're done.'

Cassandra had eyed the bills with suspicion and Rust dryly stated,

'Don't be an idiot, Cassandra. Take the fuckin' money and just sit your ass down.'

'You know my name?'

He had jerked his head towards a huddle of Iron Crusaders in another booth,

'You're popular.'

'Oh.' she'd nodded, slightly deflated by the implications. Rust had picked up on the tinge of shame in her eyes,

'Ain't no shame in it, baby.'

'You don't have to be nice about it.'

'I ain't nice.'

Cassandra had regarded him for a moment longer, thrown off by his apparent self-discipline,

'So, you're stuck with me for an hour. What do you wanna do?' she'd asked, tucking her knees onto the booth. Rust had barely spared her a sidelong glance,

'What're you drinking?'

'Jack and coke.'

He'd scoffed at that,

'You're nineteen.'

'And you're a biker running meth so who's breaking the law more, here?'

That had gotten a proper look from Rust, almost turning his head in her direction before handing his glass,

'How's straight whiskey?'

Cassandra had taken the glass from him and taken a straight gulp while being watched by an impassive Rust,

'What's your name, baby?' she asked in a saccharine tone, a slight tilt to her head.

'Drop the act.'

'I don't have a fucking act. This is how I talk.'

Rust had hummed at that,

'Crash.'

'Crash, huh?'

'Yeah. Crash,' Rust had replied, fixing her with a cold stare. Cassandra had nodded, slightly intimated,

'Ok, Crash.'

A schoolgirl crush had morphed into a worrying codependency that had left her strewn on his mattress, in a semi-catatonic state. Worst part is: Cassandra cannot bring herself to hate him. The sickest part of her is even hoping that he kind of finds her attractive like this: at her rawest, most ugly state. She doesn't know how much longer she can keep the jig up; this near constant state of self surveillance is weighing on her heavily and this lacquer of practiced indifference is eroding. Fast. Even now, as Crash places a glass of water, a carton of Marlboro Golds and a bag of those plasticky powdered donuts by the mattress, she can feel her resolve faltering; trying to ignore the small disappointment that he cares so little to concede her her cigarettes. The grit in her wants to right-hook him hard and run away from this place, but she can't and she won't. She doesn't have anywhere left to run and the humiliation of having to ask to crash with one of her fancy college friends gnaws at her. She notices him staring at her, crouched by the mattress. Burying her head in the pillow, she mumbles,

'Stop it. Please stop it cause, I swear to god, that I'll cry if you don't.'

'Cry, then,' Rust mutters, 'Ain't no shame in it.'

'Yes, there is. A lot. Crash, I'm-I'm a whore,' Cassandra chokes out in a sob.

'Hey-Hey, you never fuckin' say that ever again. You hear?' Rust says, voice raising slightly as he clasps her jaw with his hand, 'What happened last night was me, all me. You were high out of your fuckin' mind and, even if you weren't, you couldn't had said no if you wanted to.'

'But I liked it.'

Rust ignores the heat that pools in his gut at those words,

'That don't make no fuckin' difference.'

Cassandra brings her hands to her face, trying to conceal her tear streaked cheeks. A futile endeavour, given the heaves of her sobs,

'It ain't even that. I've been a stripper since I was eighteen. Eighteen, Crash. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?!'

'You were a desperate, little girl with a daddy who beat her and no other choice in this cesspit of a fuckin' world other than to strip for men like me.'

'Not for men like yo-'

'Yes, Cassandra. For men like me. Stop making fuckin' excuses, you're smarter than that,' Rust borderline snarls, her chin still grasped in his hand as he shakes it slightly, emphasising his words.

Cassandra stares at him for a moment before she gives Rust the type of embrace that she hasn't given since she ran up to the police officer who pulled up, just as her dad burst out of the house with the jagged end of a bottle of malt liquor in hand. She buries her nose between the seam of his leather jacket and his faded t-shirt, inhaling deeply: sweat, Camels, beer, faint scent of deodorant. She moves her head up to thank him in the only way she knows how to and starts to kiss his neck. Rust gently grasps her shoulders to pull her away,

'Not now, baby. Tomorrow but not today.'

'I can-'

'You ain't in the right state of mind. I can see it. You ain't my Cass, right now. You're that scared little girl tryin' to reconcile the fact that her daddy has hit her for the first time and that it ain't gonna be the last.'

Cassandra flinches at that,

'Why the fuck would you bring that up?'

'To remind you that you should be scared.'

'Of you?'

'Of any man.'

Cassandra eyes him narrowly as he stands up,

'You heading out?'

'I'll be back, tonight.'

'Can you hand me a book?'

'Which one?'

'Something relatively chill.'

Rust goes to his stack against the wall, runs his hand down and stops at a book before lifting up the ones above it and slotting it out. He hands it to her,

'First bit of philosophy I ever read. I think most of what he preaches is placid bullshit but it ain't too intense a read.'

Cassandra takes The Stranger from Rust's hand and briefly flicks through the pages before landing at the first one. She squints to read some pen scrawl,

Houston, 1987,

For all those sleepless nights and to kickstart those philosophy courses that you've been mentioning,

From Claire to Rust

Cassandra's head snaps up, brow furrowing. She recognises one name, not the other. Her voice is gelid as she ask,

'Who the hell is Rust?'

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle x original female character #american wasteland

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mantisgodsart · 3 months ago

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Did you know? You have to post art for people to see it. Wild, we know. Anyways, we finally drew our Bau's swords, and we're going to make you decipher their extremely thick (designated south Appalachian from our American Accent Experts) accent. Also comes with bonus notes under the cut.

"Y'see, the thing with weapons is that if y'ain't careful wit'em y'can really tear up a man. Throwin' metal aroun' th'place doesn' come without consequences. It c'n take a lotta work ta master any weapon't all, an' even more work t' keep from hurtin' anyone y'wouldn't want to." "Take m'swords, for example. These're cuttin' blades, n' they're hooked't th'tip. Y'see this sorta thing fer sport, usually, but they're a bit useless fer actual fightin' cuz they don't cut shell. Y'need t'have some dexterity t'put 'em to work, 'cuz hitting shell with 'em's worse'n useless. Dulls yer blades, 'n such. Y'need ta hit b'tween th'shell, or't does nothin', 'n any actual hit'll be real likely t'kill 'r maim." "Mine've got swordbreakers in'm, cuz I don' really use'm t'cut. Bit narrow t'really club with, but I like'm narrow cuz I like t'get inta guards. Th'hook's made ta get inta joints, but't works just's well t'grab shit outta bags'r hands, n' th'extra grabbin' bits make't a bit easier t'nab that." "'f I miss, worse't happens is't some bug gets'r shell sliced, 'n tha' doesn't mean much, y'know? No major hit, 'll scab over'n a few hours'n be fine. 'f I used a crushin' weapon, though, 't might actually hurt 'em." "'n a pinch, they'll work jus' fine fer th' original purpose. Fit th' hook 'nto a limb, give'a shallow cut, 'n most people'll back off once they know y'could've ripped a limb off. Makes't harder for'm t'wield a weapon, too. If's somethin' real fussy like a velvet ant- they don' clot like other bugs, so y'can't really draw blood from'm- then'm usually stronger'n em, so disarmin' works jus' fine, 'n I can hold onto 'em if'ey still wanna pick a fight." "…'sides, carryin' aroun' two'a these makes me look real cool, don'tcha think? All fancy'n such."

Bau's specific accent for the in-universe setup rather than the "translating things" is, like. Distinctly "cricket or grasshopper who has not really made an effort to, like, get around the fact that their mouthparts aren't super made for the sorts of sounds used in bugnish" which is perceived as a Hick Accent because a lot of crickets Do tend to work around similar, like, Perceived As Hick Industries Done By Mostly Uneducated People. It takes Effort to sort of train yourself to speak in a way that will read to other bugs as More Educated, and Bau has just sort of… never bothered? Best they've got is enunciating it a bit more clearly, chief. They're not relearning how to speak a whole language to be seen as Slightly More Educated.

In terms of actual in-universe sounds that are Not translated to English they'll just sound a lot chirpier. You could probably interpret some of the words in there as adjacent to the sort of shit you hear out of birds. Might be able to unintentionally set off the fight-or-flight of bugs who used to be heavily preyed upon by small songbirds if cussing violently enough. Sometimes you accent sounds with actually making the standard cricket-chirp sound if you're trying to be sexy.

Sometimes you also do this when you are pissed off at people, This is because crickets are Like This and a lot of them will fucking fight each other for the approval of a potential mate.

Anyways, the fun part of Bau's weapons is that they are deliberately built for being showy and impressive and letting them do flashy sleight-of-hand with their opponent's belongings while also being hideously inefficient enough as actual weapons that bringing them onto the battlefield in the first place actively seems like a terrible strategic decision.

#our art #bug fables #finished #ink #bau #ocs #our ocs #we should. transfer the ask channel stuff over here. it would be a good idea #are we smart enough to do this though #anyways. we write baus accent out phonetically from our personal remembrance of the specific accent we're aiming for #and some things have been smoothed out so as to read better in text because “but't” doesn't read right #we are doing this because a lot of these words read like entirely different words in our mind when not contracted

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aristotels · 8 months ago

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I would love to hear an extended rant about being an artist in a periphery country, if you're willing to say more.

sorry for this being late! but yes there are quite a few things to this.

1) EDUCATION/JOB OFFERINGS

when you are from a periphery country, the art education accessible to you is much worse than in the imperial core. yes, i know, you dont need to go to art school, you can be self-taught, you dont need a degree, but art school is about making potential job connections. in a country like croatia, you do not have access to those connections. you do not have ability to go out, show your portfolio, get reccommended by a professor for a listing. the education is stunted as well - the animation program here is atrocious, my building had an attic with dead pigeon corpses littering the room, there are no drawing tablets, computers are old, the building is leaking, but the lack of ability to make professional connections is the main concern.

also, your degree? people hear you got a degree from a balkans land and you are immediately less worthy in their eyes. your name, which is not anglo? crossed out, despite your skills. job offerings within your country? good luck, everyone lives in poverty, you are underpaid, and studios hiring can be named on fingers of one hand. you are left with earning online.

and you are left with earning illegally. making author contracts with pdv, taxes, etc is incredibly complicated when working over upwork, doing commissions etc. this does constitute as black market. we do not hand in our taxes like in the usa, theyre deducted from our salaries and contracts immediately. this means you are missing out on potential grants and statuses which require you to provide papers of your commissions. it also means that transfering money over paypal has to go into small amounts to your own account, to avoid suspicious activity.

2) ART TOOLS ACCESIBILITY

a thing that is very frustrating. living in a periphery country? good luck getting anything. art shops are scarce. art shops do not carry the same amounts of items, and they are more expensive than in their mother countries. you are left with office supply stores. the quality of accessible paints and other tools is lower. its already been proven that products shipped to eastern europe are of lower quality and higher price than in the west; and this goes for paints too.

this means that, if you do traditional art of any kind, you are left with shopping online. this includes shipping - youre in a periphery country? congrats, often it does not ship to it, or the shipping is atrocious. your choices? mostly deutschland amazon - every item has 10€ shipping minimum. prices are not adjusted to your salary, they are adjusted to the german ones, which are much higher. i have to regularly order fillings for my brushpen. it is not available in my country. the price on amazon is significantly higher than on pentel website, and their usa based shipping. yes, just the price of the product. pentel does not ship this to my country btw. aliexpress is what you have, it takes 2 months to arrive, is frequently lost in mail, and even with it being cheaper - its still a bit more expensive than the original.

3) ALGORITHM, SOCIAL MEDIA

this is the third thing - algorithm works against you if you are not from the imperial core. of course, there are timezones, but also - your posts tend to be shown to people who live around you; meaning you have harder time breaking into the international market, and that market is the only viable one.

4) BEING PAID LESS

being eastern european (or asian or southern american or african or...) gets you lower salary. i indeed love my employers, i adore the comic i work on so much that its become my own project as well, theyve been nothing but kind to me - but the fact remains that i, as an eastern european, am and will always be paid much less than my usamerican counterparts.

5) JOB OPPORTUNITIES, ONCE AGAIN, ENGLISH LANGUAGE

adding this but: its hard to break into cartoon network/adult swim/etc without being presently there. you cannot get to conventions, you cannot have your portfolio checked, and you must speak english. yes. anglos take english-speaking for granted, and fail to realize that actually speaking english for us is not a privilege, its a necessity, and its a tool of imperialism. it is unfair that you cannot do ANYTHING without speaking english. you cannot get jobs, you cannot advance your career, and while i personally speak english quite well, not everyone does, not everyone should have to.

anyway sorry for the length

#txt #artists on tumblr #eastern europe #imperialism #usa imperialism #marxism #marxist leninist #socialism #communism #ask

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travellingwiththedead · 6 months ago

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Ok, watching iwtv s2e2 again and taking notes because everything happening too much:

(Spoilers under read more)

Louis and Armand arguing about who should have made contact first sounds a bit like Louis and his mum arguing about who should have kept in touch, but less angry.

Also Daniel absolutely not buying their domestic bliss charade is hilarious. "Keep selling it"

Ok, on Louis and his photography: How are all your pictures turning out so well? You're taking them at night, free hand, no flash light. I guess for less hurried ones he can, because he's a vampire, just stand very very still, but we see him and Claudia move the camera while taking pictures (or use a way too short exposure time), he's taking pictures on a moving bike. They should all be underexposed or blurry as hell xD

Louis getting nasty when Daniel's questions go places he doesn't like is so good. Three grumpy old men in a penthouse, trying to one up each other.

Love how Claudia is all indecisive about going into Madeleine's shop until someone tells her not to do it, then she immediately goes in. Lestat's daughter, absolutely. They both hear someone say "Lestat/Claudia, no!" and immediately go "Lestat/Claudia yes!" xD

Aaaand now Daniel's hand is shaking again. Guess it's time for another visit from Fareed (give me my mad scientist husbands)

Love Daniel gleefully correcting Rashid (and indirectly Armand) that you're not supposed to be using gloves with old books and documents. Have the writers stolen this from tumblr posts after s1? ;)

Armand, give poor Real Rashid ('it's just Rashid') a raise already xD

Armand, you dramatic shit, making the lights flicker like that when meeting Louis

The whole Theatre part is just so good. Ben Daniels gave his all and he's stealing the show. Standing ovations for this man. (and also wishing him so much strength after the loss of his husband, so sad for him)

The whole Annika scene was so intense, the actress is fantastic.

KP (the MVP of production crumbs) and his little knitted hat ^.^

The whole theatre troop looks so good. And the set is great.

Celeste's "Do American vampiresses all wear pastels?" is giving Morticia Addams xD

Daniel calling it all a telenovela, and making sure to have the fitting background music, is hilarious xD he's right and he should say it

Delainey is so pretty when she smiles. And also once again doing so well.

Roget, what do you know? Also I wanna know what else was in that box, apart from the letter (looks like some kind of deeds or other official documents? maybe money?).

And there Louis goes lashing out again. Vicious.

Hm, not sure where this whole scenes puts the Armand-is-Alice-theory (which I don't subscribe to). Because Louis clearly thinks Alice as an actual person and that he could find her in present day.

Personally I think Daniel remembering 70s Armand here has less to do with Alice and more with Louis now and Armand then using his memories as weapons against him.

I bet Daniel will make them pay for this in the future, he's not just gonna take that. I mean, he sees nothing wrong with slapping a vampire so collecting himself and then striking back even harder would definitely be something he'd do.

the preview for next episode is confusing me. 1576??? But yay for past-Lestat and Nicki ^^

#iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers

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sillimancer · 2 months ago

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so I've been watching Bluey and I'm on episode 37/52 in series 1 so I feel like I've seen enough of it to have genuine thoughts (I skimmed the wikipedia page too)

the reason I started watching it was because of its reputation among millennials with kids who have been swearing up and down that it's basically free therapy for our age group. I'm definitely in the market to having my brain chemistry altered but after 37 episodes, I don't know that I'm there yet. there is still a lot of show left to go though, and some of the most-circulated clips I've seen on social media have been in episodes I haven't come across yet, so that is subject to change.

what I CAN say is that Bluey is objectively a very good tv show that 100% deserves its Peabody award. it's thoughtful, fun, and honestly funnier than it has any right to be. I've laughed out loud more than once. Joe Brumm made the show with the intention of it being entertaining for both kids and parents and he absolutely nailed that balance, I think. in that way, it's not a kid show; it's a family show. and I like that (and I'm pleasantly surprised by how well it works!).

I haven't been a kid for a long time so it's hard for me to put myself in the shoes of a child, especially in a world that is so drastically different from mine. I think this is the first kid show I've seen that prominently features things like smartphones. I know those shows exist--the new Blue's Clues is a good example of how things have been updated to suit modern audiences--but it's something that caught my eye as an Old Fart (in internet years). Not as a bad or good thing, just as a "wow I'm getting older and it's getting harder to relate to or even understand childhood" kind of way. Maybe that's why people want to be parents so badly. To reconnect with that. I can sympathize with that feeling.

the show focuses a lot on Bluey and her sister and friends navigating the world through imaginative play, which I love and has a solid backing in child developmental psychology. I actually just started learning a little bit about play therapy (I follow a play therapist on tiktok who kinda got me into it, I love her), so I feel like I've been getting a little bonus bit of enrichment out of the show for that. it's like when you're watching a movie that's partly in another language and you don't speak the language but you recognize it and can maybe pick out a couple words? it's like that.

I think Brumm really captured lightning in a bottle with this project. you can feel the love it's made with. the storylines are grounded with just the right touch of an almost magical or fantastical quality that really makes you feel childlike wonder even as a cynical and deeply depressed 30-something. There's conflict and mess, sure, but built on a foundation of safety and community, and I think that's probably what's resonating with (american) millennials. we inherited so much instability and pain from our previous generations that it's hard to believe a world or even a family unit like Bluey's could exist. parents who love each other? who are active in their children's lives? who apologize when they do something wrong? COULDN'T BE US!

all this to say I'm enjoying the show, it's heartwarming, it's charming, it's delightful, and I hope Joe Brumm lives forever. but it's also very much designed for children so like. I worry the millennial parents crying over this show on tiktok may be overselling it.

#my diary #watcher diaries #idk do I tag this for real in a detectable way #children's media #bluey #idk if there's a way to come out of saying 'I think kid media is neat' without sounding like a creep or a loser #but it is what it is idk it's interesting from a developmental psychology and sociological perspective I think #I don't know that this show is healing my inner child or anything like that #but it's been a fun way to take breaks between assignments cuz the episodes are only 7 minutes long #I DEFINITELY would have made my sister watch this if it had been around when she was little #this show is babysitting gold right here #you can also tell that the original seed of a concept was like 'peppa pig but make it australian'#I don't think I've seen enough peppa pig to say if bluey is better or not #but I can see the inspiration now that it's been pointed out to me #it kinda reminds me of the rugrats with the story beats and how it handles humor #I'm having fun!#also I see why people wanna fuck the dad dog now #I don't want to personally but I can see why people are being like that #he's funny and charming!#dude's got two kids he obviously has game

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thefriendlyferretwriter · 1 year ago

Text

A new side of you: Waltz of emotions

Pairing: Eugene 'Flash' Thompson x reader

Summary: Surprised, again and again.

Warning: 13k words, Tension, tension, tension, angst, a bit of fluff, OCs, don't know what else to warn you about.

A/N: I feel like this is standard by now but sorry again for being such a slow writer, I hope the fic is enough to be forgiven for my usual tardiness. Might have edited but I'm not a native speaker so get ready for plenty of mistakes, enjoy!

Tags: (Don't hesitate to tell me if you want to be added or removed, and thank you again for your feebacks ❤️) @loxerclu8 @wheelerzluv @ray-of-sunrise @m00nkn1ghts

People's view of the costume is accurate. The fabric is thin and flexible but unfortunately, it is quite a cold way to fight crimes during the chilly nights of New York.

"That was awesome! I wonder if it'll end up on the internet?"

"I doubt it. If it does end up there it'll be out of frame and shaky. The police were quite insistent when they were shoving people to safety," I say feeling the breeze as I swing around at full speed.

Landing with a huff I realize I'm out of breath, "Ned." I pant, "Remind me to get a custom binder, this one is killing me."

"I told you! You can't just buy any binder from the internet. It's like corsets, of course they are uncomfortable if they are not tailored for you!"

Your vendetta against Hollywood has reached another level," I say taking another deep breath.

With a leap I swing from the American Museum of Natural History and land on a school's rooftop.

A buzz makes me pause and crouch to check my phone and see a second call coming in from May.

"I got to go May is on the other line."

"Okay, 'night."

"'Night."

Swiping on my phone I wait for the inevitable.

"Where are you?!"

I try to defuse the damage as I look around, "I am at the park close to the flat," I draw out slowly.

"…Which park?"

…

"Do not tell me you're close to Central Park which is on the other side of the city."

"Okay, I won't say it."

"Damnit! you know I don't want you farther than Long Island at night!"

"I know, I know!" I whine, "But there was this guy with a huge Scorpion armor and he was doing mass destruction! The police couldn't do it alone they needed help!" I protest.

"Before being Spiderman you're my niece and my niece will obey the very few rules I put in place for her safety."

"Don't you think the fact that I can knock out people 3 times my size should allow me a bit of indulgence on those rules?"

"No young lady I read a ton of books on this and I know how this ends."

"How?" I ask curiously.

"Mostly teen pregnancy."

"Wow! Okay let's not be dramatic now, shall we?"

"And juvie," May continues her list.

"May I fight crimes, I don't commit it."

"Listen we have a system and it works, I don't get sarcastic with my boss and you don't go farther than Long Island past 11 PM."

"In retrospect, I think we should've thought harder on those rules."

"Too late, the system works and it's flawless. Now swing your ass back home before Spiderman gets grounded."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you," she says smugly.

The line dies and I breathe out the annoyance I feel to then breathe in the fresh evening air.

Tearing off my mask I try to crack my neck and let it hang down to massage and release the night's tension when my eyes catch a familiar sigh.

Flash?

He sits on a bench with his phone in hand looking perplexed.

It's been a week since we last saw each other, or even talked. I didn't want to bother him and I have the feeling it's the same for him.

I look down at my wrist and fumble with the different settings before I find and activate the voice modificator.

Swinging down, I drop on the cemented ground and accidentally startle him as he jumps and stumbles to the floor.

"Oh shit, sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I say genuinely with my voice coming out deeper thanks to the device.

Stumbling around to step back up, Flash looks at Spiderman with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor.

A torrent of curses comes out of his mouth along with an excited laugh of disbelief.

"I can't believe it, it's you!" he says and motions to me up and down.

"Oh yeah, it's me!" I say rethinking my decision to offer guidance disguised as Spiderman in front of Flash Thompson.

"Oh my god I was having such a bad night and now I'm talking to Spiderman!"

"Yeah, that's awesome! Listen, I saw you from up there and you looked troubled and honestly a bit underdressed," I point to his light shirt.

"Oh yeah," he says more calmly looking down at his outfit, "I just needed to take a walk to think about-"

He hesitates.

"No that's not important."

"No way, tell me, that's why I came down here," I say sitting on the bench inviting him to join me.

It's not the first time that Spiderman has a sit-down with someone in distress; words being as useful as a handful of punches.

He sighs and sits down, "There's this um-Charity thing and my mom told me I had to bring a date and I told her I would but let's say it's easier said than done."

"Why's that? Having trouble finding a date?" I tease.

"No," he chuckles, "No actually I already know who I want to invite, but I don't know if she would say yes, and even then I don't really know where we stand. Inviting her could compromise everything," he says sliding his hands down his face with a pained sigh.

Is it me?

Who am I kidding? It's not because we kissed once that I'm his only date choice.

"Alright, so you have an idea. Why not ask her?"

"Because she could say no and I really do not want to have the conversation that would follow after that."

"What conversation?"

"You know the conversation!" he shouts full of frustration as he stands up from the bench, "The one a girl gives you when she's not interested in you. The one that goes 'It's not you, it's me' or the 'We're just friends' except in this case I'm not even sure we're friends to begin with!" he finishes his rant pacing left and right.

"That seems complicated," is the only thing I can say after a few moments of tense silence.

"Yeah and also what kind of date would be a charity event?"

"A date?" I choke out.

"I just-I've always been good at reading people, I know whether they hate me or they tolerate me. But recently it's been hard to read her."

I listen silently nodding my head from time to time.

"Before, she just rolled her eyes or would just snap back at me but now she listens to me and she worries about me and I just-I like being around her. I just worry it is all just a front and she's simply gonna drop me or tell me we're not actually friends and she just had pity on me and took me for some sort of charity case."

He finishes sitting back down his head in his hands.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed her." he groans.

I'm thankful for the mask covering my flushed face.

So it is about me.

It couldn't be anyone else. Flash Thompson is a lot of things. Sometimes an idiot, an asshole, even a jerk at times but what everyone always seems to agree on is that Flash Thompson is no player.

"You could always invite her as a friend," I loudly blur out after an awkward pause.

Flash frowns.

"You ask her to be your date and you precise it's as friends," I precise my thought.

"I guess I could try but what if she says no?"

"Well, best case scenario she says yes and you do have a friend. Or worst case scenario, she does pity you and says yes allowing you to hang out with her and convince her to see you as more than that."

He stays silent staring out into the void before snatching his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling her right now before I chicken out."

Oh shit!

"Wow! Hey there how about we think about it before we make any rash decision," I say standing up from the bench in a hurry.

"What do you mean? you just told me to ask her."

"Listen," I panic and rack my brain for any last-second plan, "Here's what I propose. You walk back home and think about what you're gonna say to her on the way there, and then you call her once you get there."

He pauses, "Yeah okay, that makes sense."

A buzz startles me and reminds me of my curfew.

Trying to stay calm I hurriedly try to bid my goodbyes.

"O-Okay well, I got to go. Hope it works out for you!" I say carefully stepping backward, "As for me I'm expected somewhere so I'm gonna head there!"

"Oh yeah for sure. That's crazy man, I've always wanted to meet you, and now that it's the case you've just helped me!"

He looks back down at his phone's contact and slowly takes a few steps back nodding to me as a goodbye.

"You know what they say. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, emotionally and physically!" I shout jogging back.

When I'm sure he's far enough, I leap into the air and swing away.

"Wait! Can we take a picture-?!" his demand fades as I shoot my next web.

Answering the phone I reassure May I'm on my way and get a few more calls from Flash that I cannot answer.

The last swing sends me to my bedroom window with a thud as I slide the glass panel up and throw my phone in first before climbing inside in a hurry as my cell buzzes again.

"Is that you?!"

"Yeah, I'm home!" I say sliding my mask off before trying to unzip my suit as I stomp around attempting to slip out of the gear.

Jumping on one foot I try to snatch the blue and red material off my feet and trip falling on the cool wooded floor.

"What was that?"

May's panicked tone and the incessant buzz coming from my phone is overwhelming.

Out of breath and my head still on the floor, I raise my hand and blindly pat around my covers before they brush against the device.

I sit myself up with a grunt and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hi!" I say enthusiast and breathless.

"Hi," he answers back abruptly.

"Everything okay?" I ask dipping my elbow amongst my blanket and burying my hand in my hair to ground it.

"Yeah!" he says back quickly with a lighter tone, "Sorry I just thought I would end up leaving a voicemail and now I just don't remember what it is that I wanted to say," he awkwardly confesses.

"Oh yeah sorry about that I was taking a shower," I skillfully lie.

"You often run out of breath after a shower?"

"No! it's just, I left my phone in my room and I heard it in the shower and started panicking the third time it rang I thought something horrible happened," I spew out.

I'm getting really good at this.

"Oh crap, my bad I didn't think it would-" he sighs, "Of course you would think that, I shouldn't have called at this hour I'm sorry I didn't think."

"No! Really it's nothing. What did you call about?"

Silence on the other line. I let it run until I start thinking he must've hung up and asks if he's still there.

"Yeah um, okay so here I go. There's this charity event that happens like every year and it's kind of badly seen to go alone."

My heart speeds up and hammers against my ribcage. It feels like my blood skyrockets through my body leaving an ice-cold feeling behind that gives me chills. This feeling gets stuck in my throat making me believe I'm struggling to breathe.

"And you'd like me to be your plus one?" I attempt to finish the sentence for him.

"Not like a date or anything like that! More like as…friends?" he ends his sentence with hesitation.

Leave the blood impression right now it feels like I was punched in the guts as the air escapes my lungs in a swift.

"Friends?" I repeat meekly to make sure he is comfortable with the term.

"Yeah if you're up to it?" he asks anxiously in return.

I feel frozen for a moment before my eyes are drawn to my wardrobe.

"Yeah of course. I'd love to go with you," I say putting my phone on speaker before laying it down on my bed.

Standing up with a grunt and newfound confidence, I skip to my closet and push stuff back and forth.

"So what type of event is it exactly?"

"Well, it's a charity but it's a charity on the Upper East Side so…there's going to be a lot of snobby people," he says with an awkward chuckle, avoiding talking about our apparent new friendship.

"So," I draw out, "Dressed up."

"Yup," he confirms.

I sigh pushing a few hangers back, "Well I don't think they'd be much impressed with me," I chuckle embarrassed, "When is the event exactly? Maybe I could go grab something that won't cause a public humiliation," I chuckle throwing yet another hanger back with a huge cling.

"That's where you hate me," he says with a pained voice.

Frowning I look at my phone still lying on my bed.

"The event is tomorrow."

My eyes bulge. I don't feel angry, I'm more surprised than anything else.

"Oh, so that really was a last-minute decision to invite me," I try to say light-heartedly.

'Actually, I already know who I want to invite.'

"It wasn't," he replies softly.

I'm getting better at making him open up. A fact that makes me smile, but I realize that I can't push my luck at the risk of going too far and having him close back up in a blink.

Trying to brush off his confession I decide to joke.

"You know Flash, when people invite you to events they tell you days beforehand," I laugh, "Now I don't even have anything worth wearing to your fancy charity!"

"I'm sorry."

"No I'm not mad it's just-I don't want to walk in with a summer dress on," I chuckle trying to reassure him, "And it takes more than a few hours of shopping to find a dress that looks expensive but is not."

"You don't own a black dress?" he asks confused.

"No."

"Not to generalize but I'm ready to bet every girl owns at least one plain black dress."

"I mean I do but it doesn't fit me anymore," I say putting the black dress at least three times too small against my much-grown self.

After a few moments of silence, I start thinking the invitation is gonna be retracted.

"I might have a solution."

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you."

"And why is that?" I frown trying to conceal my offense with a teasing tone.

"Can't tell you either."

"I'm not liking this."

The other line stays silent for a moment.

"Does that mean you don't want to come anymore?"

"No, that's not what I said," I clear up.

"Good, I'll take care of it, and thank you again. Would you like me to pick you up? Tomorrow I mean."

"Oh no, thank you but I'm sure I can find my way around."

"Okay," I wouldn't bet on it but I think I hear the hint of a smile in his words.

"Hum, when does it start? When do I have to arrive exactly?"

"Oh well you know, there is no designated time but people generally arrive later and leave earlier so no pressure."

"Okay so let's say around 9 PM? How does that sound?"

"Awesome."

"Cool," I smile.

I look around my room sheepishly waiting for a goodbye or any other signs he would like to continue the conversation.

Walking to my bed I spin around and let my ankle bump into my bed's rail letting myself fall back on my covers.

"Cool," he repeats.

"Cool," I reiterate chuckling.

"Thanks again, really."

"It's no big deal I'm sure I'm gonna have fun anyways," I say with a smile.

"Well you know it's a charity event so people are gonna do a LOT of talking."

"Why are you making it sound bad," I chuckle.

"I wouldn't say bad, I'd say boring," he says nonchalantly.

"I think I can handle boring for a night."

"I'll take you on that one," he says almost as a challenge.

My door creaks open and May's frown makes my smile drop.

"Hum I'm sorry but I have to go, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

When the line goes silent I awkwardly sit up waiting for a scolding or a rant or anything else.

"So?" she asks with her brows raised.

I know she's waiting for an explanation but the news is too important, "I might've been invited to an event tomorrow."

The warmth is too much and in the heat, I throw my cover to the side with the help of my feet to turn around and try to go back to sleep in my haze.

Having opened my blinds and window during the heated night to let in the fresh breeze, the sunlight shines through and highlights my cluttered mess of a bedroom.

The usual New York rumble is accompanied by a merry voice.

"Wakey wakey night owl!"

"May," I whine sleepily, "It's the last days of summer, can't you let me oversleep?"

"Nope because you have a package and I've been trying to guess what's in it for about twenty minutes now."

"Huh?" I say with a hoarse voice.

"Come on, stand up!"

"I don't remember buying anything," I try to reason.

"And I don't remember buying anything either so come on up, up!" she says jumping up and down.

Sliding off my bed a box is thrown onto it. A huge white rectangular box closed and flattered by a black bow wrapped around it like a Christmas present.

I groan.

"I know what it is."

"What?"

"I have nothing to wear for the charity and Flash proposed to help but I thought it would just be a quick drop off not…that," I say with a gesture to the box.

"How nice."

"I guess but I'm uncomfortable getting a dress from him. If it wasn't so last minute I would've bought one for myself but-"

"Didn't you say it was a fancy event?"

"Yeah?" I answer not getting her point.

"Rich people smell a fraud it's better if he's the one dressing you up for tonight."

"Dressing me," I bark a laugh, "Flash would not dress me, maybe his mom helped or-"

I'm cut off by the phone going off in the other room.

As May walks out to reach it I admire the simplicity yet classiness of the box. I smile as I fidget with the bow before tugging on it and letting it loose.

Half-listening to May's phone call I push off the ribbon and lift the lid.

"Holy fuck!"

I throw the lid back on top of the box the corner not fitting back properly and let it slide aside.

"I'll call you right back-what?! What happened?!" May says in a hurry with the phone still glued to her ear.

I face her with my back turned away from my bed where the dress is sitting, "I can't wear that."

"Can't wear what?" she asks walking to my bed and opening the box back.

"Oh wow."

"I know."

"This is gorgeous."

"I know, I can't wear that."

"Wait-why not?"

“It’s too much. It’s the kind of dress you wear to attract attention, not just to walk around at a charity event,” I spit out at full speed as May puts the phone back to her ear and asks the person who is on the other line and who has not bothered to hang up to come forward and open the front door which is not locked.

"I think you're overreacting a little bit. It's just a pretty dress."

Listening to her I gather up the courage to turn back around and have another look at the black glittery dress.

"It's too much! He told me it's an event full of snobby rich people and you know what's gonna happen if I wear this around snobby rich people?"

May straightens up and takes a posh accent, "What a promiscuous little lady you are," she scolds before laughing.

"I'm serious!" I whine taking the dress out of the box.

The dress's length reaches the ground and the long sleeves hang loose. As the front of the dress faces Aunt May, the back view horrifies me.

I choke on my gasp and swiftly turn the dress around.

At the view of the open back of the dress May's eyes match mine as they widen like sausages.

"Oh wow now that's promiscuous," she says with no accent or tease this time.

"What was he thinking?!"

"Nothing. I doubt Flash handpicked this dress himself," she speculates feeling the fabric of the dress.

Her observation is followed by the front door shutting and a voice calling out to May.

"We're in here Happy!"

With a frown, I watch as Happy Hogan appears at the threshold of my bedroom.

"What is he doing here?" I question as I point to him with the dress still in my hands.

"Your aunt said you're going out tonight and she didn't want to stay alone so I proposed to stay with her," he says all the while analyzing the dress up and down before pointing to it, "Where did you get that?"

"It's a gift," May explains.

"No! No no no no no, it's temporary, a temporary borrowed and very expensive looking dress."

"Not just looking," Happy informs me.

My body proves that it is in fact possible to get even more tense.

"What do you mean by that exactly?" I ask with a meek voice.

Seeing my distressed face Happy makes eye contact with May, gauging the situation.

"Well I mean," he draws out walking up to me and grabbing the dress raising it to examine the fabric, "It looks like the kind of dress Tony makes me pick up for Pepper so I figured-"

"Oh my god!" I shout throwing the dress back on my bed.

I walk to my nightstand and reach for my phone.

"What are you doing?" May ask.

"I'm canceling," I say hurriedly.

"What? No!" she protests.

Flash's number is already dialed and the phone is placed at my ear as I shoo both of them out of my room.

Hurrying May out I close the door as the fourth dial rings in my ear.

Somehow the sound of his voice allows me to breathe out.

"Hey, what is it?"

"What the fuck Flash!"

The warmth leaves his voice and worry takes its place, "What is it?"

"The dress!"

"What? what's wrong with it, you don't like it?"

"It's too much!" I exclaim.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry."

"What were you thinking?" I said feeling a little guilty knowing he couldn't have guessed that I wouldn't like the dress.

"Hey in my defense I didn't choose the dress."

"Then who did?!"

"Well I wasn't sure so I kinda asked Lea to choose," he hesitates to say.

My brain freezes and a headache is right around the corner, "Wait, isn't she supposed to be on her honeymoon?" I ask pinching my nose and scrunching my eyes closed.

"She was but she's a big part of the charity so she is flying back for tonight and is gonna finish her honeymoon here in New York."

"Oh and so you let her choose a dress for me not thinking that our way of dressing up might be way different?" I ask incredulously.

"You make it sound bad."

"It is Flash!" I shout hyperventilating, "She's a model and this type of dress is made for the runway, not charity, and not on me."

"Wait so the problem is that it doesn't fit?"

"No!" I groan falling back on my bed beside the same dress that is making me break down.

"I'm sorry but I'm having a hard time understanding the problem right now, do you hate the dress is that what it is?"

"No, I don't hate the dress," I say.

It's true I like the dress, it's a pretty dress.

"Have you tried it on?"

I pause and answer 'no' in a tone that says it should be obvious to him that I would never try on a brand-name dress.

"So what's the issue exactly? You don't dislike the dress and you haven't tried it on so you can't complain that it doesn't fit, so what's up?"

"It's not a normal dress," I explain as a matter of fact.

"A normal dress?" I can hear the tease in his tone.

"Yes, a normal dress." I reiterate.

"And what is a normal dress exactly?"

"A dress that doesn't look like it was made in a studio in a fancy part of Beverly Hills!"

"Okay, I understand, Lea has a particular style."

"And Lea knows how to walk around with people's eyes on her!" I shout convinced that he now understands my point of view, "I just-" I sigh, "I don't want to walk in there and have people looking at me and judging me, especially rich snobby people."

"Oh if that's what scares you I can reassure you right now and tell you that no one will pay you any attention."

"You haven't seen the dress," I say as a matter of fact.

"No, but I can tell you that standing beside me as my da-my plus one, everyone will obviously be too busy admiring me to be paying you any mind."

I snort and try to muffle the noise by cupping my mouth but the unflattering cackle reaches the other end of the phone.

I know he's reassured now that I laughed but it doesn't erase my worry.

I calm down and weigh my request before verbalizing it.

"Could you drive me to the event?" I decided to just come out with it hoping for the best.

"What happened to taking the bus?" He asks genuinely.

"Again, you haven't seen the dress and I'd rather not travel around Queens dressed to the nines. I just want to be safe, you know?"

I know that my safety isn't at risk but dressed like that, a judging stare would be as dreadful as a wandering hand.

I can't hear him but I'm certain he nods agreeing with me.

"Well, it would be an honor to be your knight in shining armor for the night knowing you're actually my savior," he jokes, "But sadly there isn't any carriage available so we will have to settle for my car, I hope that's alright."

"Oh what a shame, I expected nothing less than the fanciest vehicle," I chuckle.

"Sorry Cinderella but fairy godmother only managed to get the dress."

"And I still wonder how she managed to do that," I say turning on my side and feeling the fabric.

"That's a secret…Try the dress on and call me back to tell me how it fits. Or better yet text me, It's kind of crazy around here today."

It is only now that I realize there is noise around him, a lot of noise and that makes me gather that he must already be over there helping to set everything up and I'm here having a meltdown and calling him having a tantrum about a dress.

"I'm so sorry I didn't, I mean if I knew you were busy I would've-"

"No no, it's alright really-" He tries to chime in.

"No I mean you're probably busy, I can't believe I didn't think of that-" I ramble before he cuts me off.

"No really, you're a life-savor Parker. Those events are old-fashioned and you're like forced to have someone with you and I really didn't want to spend my entire night answering the same question over and over again-"

It's his turn to ramble and I find myself listening on liking the idea of him opening up to me.

It is not every day that I get to listen to Flash Thompson ramble, let alone to me.

"It's annoying when people crowd you and ask why you don't have a date with you and they end up dissecting what must be wrong with you to not have a girl on your arm."

"Sounds annoying."

"It is. Sometimes I manage to avoid that kind of event but for this one my family is in charge so," He finishes dragging his word.

"You are forced to participate."

He confirms and gets interrupted by another voice. I frown trying to listen and make up a bit of the conversation going on before he comes back to the line with a sigh.

"I'm sorry it's a bit crazy right now. My mom always goes nuts the day of these events," he says as I can hear Mme.Thompson shouting in the back.

"Okay, that's my cue. Try the dress on and text me okay?"

"Sure," I say with a smile.

"Bye," he says along with another sentence that I cannot decipher, presumably aimed at someone else before the line dies and I'm left lying on my bed retracing the conversation.

I look at the dress once more. The sparkles look more and more inviting instead of revolting and I stand back up fixing myself before I open the door to face both May and Happy.

Making awkward eye contact I see that they are half bent toward my door before they stand straight up and cough to ease the tension.

After a moment of silence where my gaze is enough judgment, I speak up and ask for help.

"Can you help me do my hair?"

Meddling with the final strand of my hair May stands back to admire her work as I add the final touch to my makeup applying the red lipstick with precision.

Closing the cap I stand up and have an overall look at myself as May squeals and hands me my jacket. She asks a few more questions when I head to the door and check if I have everything I need placed in the pouch she lent me for the night.

My brain barely has time to register the questions before I hum and give a half-assed answer as I put my jacket on and try to exit the apartment.

I turn around to hear her give me rule after rule for the night.

"Flash drives you to the event, you stay at this event," she points out referring to the birthday incident where the only reason I wasn't grounded was the fact that my exit saved me from a potential wound from the blowout of fireworks.

"You have your fun and you come home at 1 AM. Not 2, not 3, 1 AM, got it?"

I nod.

"And Flash drives you back, no one else, Flash."

"Yes," I say a bit exasperated.

"And you stay glued to him all night."

"Yes, Aunt May I promise! Can I go now he's waiting for me outside," I lie.

He's not waiting for me outside, as a matter of fact I haven't even sent him a message informing him I'm ready for him to pick me up.

"Okay be careful-And text me both when you arrive and when you're coming home."

I nod at her as I walk backward to the elevator and watch as she smiles before closing the apartment door. I huff loudly and turn around to look down to my phone texting Flash that I'm ready and will be waiting for him outside.

It's when I'm halfway down the elevator that my phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I just got your text and huh," he draws out.

I don't answer and just let him bask in the silence of the line.

"I'm sorry things were crazy. I'm just now getting ready."

"Wait you're getting ready?! Then when are you coming to pick me up?" I ask walking out of the elevator and pushing the door of the apartment building open letting the New York ambiance bask me in its hurriedness.

The breeze reaches me and I rub my arm getting used to the weather slipping up the back of my jacket and biting at my open back when I notice a…no way.

"Flash what did you do?"

"What-what do you mean what did I do?" he stutters.

"I mean why is there a guy looking at me waiting by a car that looks like it's worth more than the neighborhood," my question is more of a statement.

I hear him curse under his breath.

"I'm really sorry. She told me she would be subtle."

"Who?" I ask taking my eyes off the supposed driver.

"My mom. I told her I had to come to get you but she still needed me around so I insisted and even said I'd call you to push back our meeting but she said it would be disrespectful and that she would send someone."

I stay silent processing all of it.

"I'm sorry I wanted to call and tell you but I just got to my room."

I look back up to the driver and make eye contact before we exchange hasty smiles.

I sigh thinking of this all over walking down the stairs one by one slowly.

"Okay, I guess it wasn't really in your power. But you better be here when I arrive I will not show up and walk around alone." I say firmly.

"Of course," he says in all seriousness.

Telling him I'll see him soon, I hang up and focus my gaze on the driver as I approach him.

"Miss Parker?"

I nod before confirming my identity verbally.

He then motions to the car before opening the door and gesturing for me to step in.

When it clicks shut I am left with the silence of the empty vehicle.

As the buildings go by and I get closer to the venue my stress level rises and I start fidgeting and falling into a cycle of grabbing my phone, second-guessing texting Flash, and then abandoning the idea and letting my body fill up with more anxiety.

The arrival doesn't stop that nagging feeling that causes goosebumps to rush down my spine, that or the wind nipping at my back through my coat.

Walking up the stairs my nerves run wild through my body as my legs shake walking up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I make eye contact with a man standing in front of the doors. Approaching him carefully, I struggle to find my voice and I am cut off in my stutter as he guesses my last name.

Confused, I confirm his guess and my frown must ring a bell for him as he turns to the door, "I was informed that one of Mme.Thompson's guests would arrive alone and I'm guessing it's you," he says as he buzzes me in.

I nod to him as a thank you and continue to walk ahead this time on a soft and long red carpet instead of stone.

The voices, which were mere mumbles turn into booming voices coming from every corner of the room and my coat is starting to make me sweat reminding me that I'll have to discard it soon.

The thought makes me sweat even more.

Like fate, my eyes scan my surroundings and immediately fall on him standing in front of the counter right beside Lea.

He's fidgety and I see Lea receiving a glass of alcohol before making eye contact with me as she nods in my direction.

I feel hands on my shoulders and jolt stepping aside to see who touched me. I see a man who stumbles back apologizing and realize he is trying to gather my coat to let me join the crowd and a cold sweat replaces the regular sweat.

As the fabric leaves my shoulder my voice stays stuck in my throat and instead, a small squeak manages to slither out.

Still looking for my voice, I turn to him walking away with my coat.

I'm left standing there helpless.

When I see the man disappear I turn back to my previous position to look back at Flash when I see him getting hit behind the head and scolded by Lea. I also notice the glass now empty on the counter as I hear his voice more distinctly dismissing Lea with a 'Whatever' as he rushes to my side.

"He took my jacket," I husher panicked but still trying to be subtle.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely taking off his jacket.

"I feel naked," I whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he reiters putting his jacket on my shoulders before ushering me to walk ahead leading us towards Lea at the bar.

His hand is placed on my back flaring shiver with the new sensation of his hand on my back, or maybe it is just the fresh jacket on me?

My brain focuses back and sets on Lea greeting me.

With her asking how I've been I let my hand play with the jacket and nod along with the conversation. Flash himself messes with the blazer by first securing it over my shoulder and then playing with the sleeves that hang loosely.

When my mind stops fixating on him, I blink in surprise when my ears register an apology coming from Lea about the dress. I try to protest and instead thank her for the last-minute save when Flash's mother appears to join and inform us that we need to scatter around.

I stand clueless for a moment before I feel his hand on my back gently pushing me to walk alongside him.

Led around once more I decide to stop being dragged around like a clueless puppet and tug the hand placed on my back to entertwine our arms and walk together instead of letting him direct me around.

I don't talk much. I mostly nod and answer small questions here and there.

The evening runs along pretty smoothly as each interaction the two of us have only lasts few minutes before Flash skillfully finds a way to bid our goodbyes and walk us to yet another couple beckoning us over.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" I ask him trying to glance in the direction he was looking at to see an older lady standing there motioning us to join her.

"That's Garret's grandmother."

"And she's a mean old lady," I deduct.

"No worse, she's a passive-aggressive bitch."

I'm taken aback by his name-calling and look back at the woman waiting impatiently for us.

"I think she's waiting for us," I suggest.

"Okay, don't talk and stay close to me," he instructs.

"You mean like I've been doing for the past hour and a half?"

My teasing provokes a smile to appear on his face for a moment but it quickly disappears when his head turns back to the lady as he walks us toward her.

I hug his arm getting closer to him as he uses his opposite hand and brings it to our linked arms as a sort of comfort I'm guessing.

"Eugene," she beckons us over with a honeyed voice.

Her mask falls for a moment and I can see a glimpse of irritation before, like any other influential figure, she morphs her face into a more pleased expression.

"Madam Pennington," Flash says with an edge.

I first think that his tone might've been hesitation, but that changes when the woman gets that sour look back on her face and I realize his tone is subtly bitter.

Without trying, my brain does the math in a matter of seconds and I realize that if Flash refers to her with another last name than Garret's it must mean she is divorced.

She makes eye contact with me as my face must've shown that I figured Flash's comment out and her burning stare drives me to get closer to him for protection.

He clears his throat driving her murderous stare back to him as I abandon the idea of nodding along to their conversation and instead subtly look around the room.

The buffet, the people, anything other than the two of them.

"My grandson seems to be upset. When I tried talking to him about it he refused to speak but I did overhear that you two fought over a girl," she ends her sentence looking at me up and down.

"And by overhear you mean that you snooped around against your grandson's wish," his argument is aimed not only at defending himself but McCoy's privacy as well which surprises me.

"Excuse you?"

Her voice getting louder I notice McCoy himself standing just a few feet away from us looking at his grandmother about to blow a fuse and I decide to diffuse the tension.

"I believe your grandson is looking for you," I say nodding toward him standing there frozen, "And Flash your mother is looking for us over there."

Pushing him into motion I look back to see Garret approaching his grandmother but decide to not dwell on the talk they're about to have.

"Are you okay?" I ask as we hurry away from them.

He doesn't answer and just nods with a hum. He does however ask where his mother is and that's when I frown.

"You know I made it up so we could flee the conflict, right?"

He stops in his tracks before turning to me and I can see the gears turning in his head.

"Oh, yeah."

We keep eye contact and it must take a toll on him because he then avoids my stare and decides to look forward, all stiff.

I'm guessing the only reason he doesn't flee is the fact that our arms are still tangled together but I don't want to let go.

Maybe it's selfish but since the last time we talked, or more precisely the last we talked and I was not in gear, he ran away and ghosted me.

I want an explanation.

"This place is beautiful," I say looking around at the structure trying to pry a conversation out of him.

"I have something to tell you."

His tone is particular and I can't make out if he's hopeful or desperate.

My own tone embarrasses me as I egg him on full of anticipation.

"There's this type of dance and-" he cuts himself off and stares behind us.

Turning around, I spot McCoy staring right back at him.

"Not again," I hear him say under his breath.

I want to ask him if he's gonna be okay or if he'd like me to stay with him to talk to Garret but he shakes my hands off his arm and grabs it before taking off in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on follow me."

I can only let out a small squeal of surprise before catching up with his footing as the previous noisy venu dies down when we reach the second floor.

Once up there he doesn't stop and continues to sprint down the hall before taking a turn and tugging me to a corner away from McCoy.

My back is placed against the wall and I rearrange the jacket on my shoulders as I see Flash look around the corner to see if Garret is following us.

I suppose he gave up the idea as Flash visibly relaxes and turns back to me.

The proximity reminds me of that night at the laser game and the sudden look on his face tells me he must reminisce as well.

He knows that I know what we're both thinking about because we avoid eye contact and I let my eyes bounce between the multiple decors as a decoy.

"This place is beautiful. I wonder what it would feel to go to sleep in a place like that," I try to deflect from the tension.

"It's like any other place, you go to bed and you fall asleep," he brushes off trying to avoid the tension as well.

The simple statement makes me turn back to him and make eye contact as the realization slowly sets in.

"No."

"No, what?" he frowns.

"You slept here before?" my question sounds more like a statement.

"Yeah."

"But you live like 20 minutes away."

"Oh so now you know where I live Parker?"

My eyes widen at his insinuation.

I'm not a stalker!

"Well after you pointed out that I didn't know where you lived I was curious. If anything you're the one who told me I should know where you lived."

"Yeah and by that I meant coming over not googling my address."

"I did not Google your address!" I lie, "You're making me look bad!"

My restlessness makes him laugh.

Still chuckling he points ahead silently asking me to follow him.

"It's more of a tradition. My mom wants us to stay and sleep here every year," he says walking peacefully beside me.

It's a change compared to his erratic running just a few minutes ago.

"So you also slept at the fairytale mansion?"

"Fairytale mansion?"

"Yeah, the one where Lea got married."

Confused, it takes him a few seconds before his frown disappears and his mouth opens with an 'Oh'.

"Yeah," he simply says opening a door as I stand here frozen.

I know he probably wants me to enter but I'm confused and look at him waiting for an explanation.

He doesn't answer and instead walks inside reaching the other side of the bed to retrieve something.

With hesitation, I take a cautious step in looking around as if the room is full of boobie traps when I hear a dull thump and look back to see him throwing a gym bag on the queen-sized bed.

It must be the glamour of the night inhibiting my ability to be logical at times because it takes me a few seconds before my confusion turns into curiosity.

"Is that your bag?"

"No, I just love going through other people's stuff."

I don't answer or laugh and just raise my brows.

"Yes Parker, It's my bag."

I relax and close the door behind me before walking toward the bed warily and sitting down softly as the mattress sinks under me.

"I thought if I have to run away from Garret, why not pause before going back out there?" he explains throwing a book on the bed covers.

He dives back into his bag as I grab the book.

"Hey, I know that book!" I note joyfully.

I see him stop scrambling through his bag and look back up at me.

"Really?" he hesitates.

"Yeah I talked about it with Susan on your birthday. Usually, she's not into these kind of books but she's been watching a show similar to it so I mentioned it to her."

When he doesn't answer and doesn't make a move to dive back into his bag, another question comes troubling me.

"By the way, how did you hear about this book?"

"Oh um, someone told me about it," he says fumbling with the clothes inside the bag.

"Really? Who?" I ask knowing this isn't his type of book.

He doesn't answer and I assume it must be Garret who told him about the book and he simply doesn't wanna talk about him.

"You know as much as I don't like Garret, he's been your friend for years," I tip-toe around the issue and remember that he must not know about the video I saw where he's going off on McCoy and his clique.

"And?"

"And. With such a great taste in books, how could you not forgive him?" I try to turn the tension into something lighter with a chuckle gesturing to the book.

His frown turns into surprise, "Oh yeah, yeah! It's Garret who told me about it a few weeks ago."

"I never thought Garret would be the kind of guy who reads outside of school," I try to say without sounding mean.

A flash of red in my peripheral vision attracts my attention to turn away from the papercover and fills me with excitement when I recognize the sight.

"You brought him!" I say gripping the plushy and letting the book fall back on the covers.

He seems satisfied with my reaction and tugs his bag to fall back down before he too takes a seat beside me.

I lean down with my feet dangling as my back makes contact with the lavish bedding.

I take a look over at the Spiderman plushy wondering if in the small period of time any harm came his way. My detective work comes out dry as the plush doesn't seem to have been put under any distress when I hear him lay down as well.

I turn my gaze to him ready to make another joke and congratulate him on the plush's wellbeing when I see him already looking back at me and lose my smile as the memories flash back.

The muffled music, the way his curls were laying on his bed. He's been growing them out.

I like his hair long.

I like his lips too.

The calmness I feel is cut short when the bedroom door swings open and the sound of heels thud on the carpeted ground.

I raise up in my seat in a rush and grip the plushy hard against my chest in a panic as if I had just been caught having sex.

"Jee! Ever heard of knocking?!" he shouts sitting up after me.

"Coming from you?" Lea says looking up and down at him with an incredulous expression.

He sighs. I don't know if it comes from annoyance or relief from the previous scene.

"I've been looking for you two, your mother sent me to get you, come on now it's about to start," she says turning back on her heels and pulling the door behind her to leave it half closed waiting for us to join her.

"What's about to start?" I wonder looking at him after admiring her walk away.

The face I find makes mine fall. The paleness and distress plastered on his face makes me feel like I'm about to be the butt of the joke.

His blank stare angers me and figuring out I won't get any explanation from him I jump on my feet straightening the jacket on my shoulder to run after her.

Any other day it would've been to get an autograph but right now my only hope is to get reassured that all of it is just a huge misunderstanding.

Surely 'It's about to start' cannot be that bad? Maybe just a toast, or a speech?

"What's about to start?" I say trying to catch up to her but my question goes unanswered when we reach the top of the stairs and I see the Thompson matriarch taking the venue by storm as she speaks up in the middle of the stairs with her voice reasoning through the immense space.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

I hear her call out before my arm is engulfed and my gaze is redirected to him.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you really, but I kept being interrupted and then there was Garret and then we had a moment of calm and we started to talk and-"

"This evening has been fulfilling and I enjoy each and every one of your presence-"

My ears cannot keep up in between the two speeches. I'm even more overwhelmed when I realize that Lea has left us at the top of the split stairs, walked beside Aliyah, and joined her newlywed husband down the stairs.

"The time has come, and I know you enjoy it as much as I do," she says with a cheeky smile and a look of knowledge across the room sending the surroundings into a fit of chuckles.

"So now. I invite you to take your partner by the arm, and let's join each other in the other room so the waltz can take place."

The end of her speech sends a cold sweat down my back and I turn back to him unable to scream.

I'm speechless and incapable of voicing my anger and frustration.

The words want to come out but my brain is mushing together my two arguments, the one where I tear him a new one for not warning me or the one where I yell that I don't know how to dance.

Why didn't he think of inviting someone who knows how to dance?!

"A waltz?! I don't even know how to dance!" I say loudly enough to share my panic and frustration without attracting any looks.

His newest excuse gets cut off by his mother reaching us at the top of the stairs, " What are you two still doing here, come on chop chop," she finishes clapping her hands to drive us to hurry downstairs.

Another gasp fights its way into my lungs when I realize I'm about to disappoint her as well.

It's only logical for her son to dance in an event she organized.

I'm standing here looking like an idiot with my mouth wide open when my own voice surprises me, "I don't know how to dance!" I say point-blank.

"Of course you do! You went to the same elementary school and I distinctly remember your grade took ball lessons," she says proudly.

The new information confuses me and I doubt the woman's memory.

Maybe she's confusing me with another girl.

Not knowing how to question her or flatly deny her version of the event, I start to babble as I notice Lea walking back up the stairs with her arm under her husband's.

"No-I. I don't. I mean-I never," I ramble, any argument dying on my tongue leaving me a stuttering mess.

I don't know how to word my sentence when my eyes notice Flash's face getting sour the more his mother insists.

"Mom she said she doesn't want to," he says dryly.

I don't know if it's out of annoyance or out of shame but both possibilities are taking a toll on me and I feel the tears coming alongside the lack of oxygen.

"Well, what do you propose we do? Your father isn't here so I can't dance and one of us needs to!"

"We've been hosting this event every year for 5 years now I think we can sit this one out," he says somewhat confidently.

"I would've liked a bit of a heads up Eugene," Aliyah scolds him through her teeth.

Yeah, me too.

"They're waiting for us. Flash come on, come dance with me," Lea says extending her hand to him and taking a look at her proposal I see Mme.Thompson's bulb light up atop her head.

"You didn't even tell her there would be a dance?!" Her accusation seems rhetorical as the deep frown on her face doesn't seem ready to welcome any excuses.

He scrunches his eyes close and rubs them but doesn't answer and opens them back up to look at me.

I see regret and wonder if he regrets inviting me. A ball clogs my throat and I try to stay as stone-faced as possible instead of making a scene by dropping on the stairs and starting to ball like a baby.

He breathes in before following Lea's lead and I stop him. Placing my hand on his chest, I then shrug off the jacket he gave me and hand it back to him, my subconscious somehow realizing he would need it to look put together.

He walks down the stairs as his mother softly takes my arm under hers.

"I'm sorry, I would think my son would have the decency to tell you about this," she sighs as we walk down the stairs.

"But then again I should have known better with how different he's been acting lately."

I didn't intend to answer but that last bit of rant resonates with me and the wave of embarrassment and sadness I feel take a step back to leave place to my curiosity.

"Yeah I think Lea made a comment about it," I say looking at his back.

He suddenly turns his head around and looks at me following him before he turns back around and walks ahead taking his place with Lea in the middle of the room with the others.

Mme.Thompson stops us to stand around the crowd around the room and leave enough space for the others to dance in the middle of it.

Taking her attention away from me, she nods away seemingly to someone before music starts resounding in the area.

"I shouldn't burden you with that," she says with a warm smile while she rubs my arm in comfort.

"Oh no it doesn't burden me. I just hope he gets better."

My well wishes widen her smile.

"I'm glad he has you to hang out with," she says warmly.

"You're a good influence on him. and I can only hope you two stay close, it's not every day my son doesn't complain about this event."

"Yes, he told me about that. He was very thankful for saving him from those stares about him not having a date," I remember our conversation.

"Stares? Why would anyone stare at him fo not having a date?"

I frown, "You know. The rule about having a date for this charity in fear of being the talk of the night," I say trying to nudge her to remember.

"There was never such a rule. Who told you that? Eugene? Léa?"

I'm left speechless and with my mouth hanging open as the frown orning my face doesn't subside.

Her own frown is quickly replaced by a smile before she abruptly apologizes when a woman motions her over.

The loss of her arm is like a warm blanket has been ripped away making me notice the stares I was previously blind to.

A couple stares at me while another switches their stare back and forth between me and Flash, probably wondering why his date is not the one in his arms.

I look at him and see he's arguing with Léa while they waltz around and the sight would impress me if I wasn't confused as to why they look like they're ready to bite at each other's throat.

Another peep and I see that same man watching me with a nasty look before not-so-subtly whispering to his wife who makes eye contact with me before she answers him with a snarky smile.

I look around trying to convince myself I'm being tricked by my own paranoia when I start hearing my own intakes of breath and know it's a sign that it's all getting too much.

In my panic and without Ms.Thompson around to take my mind off things, I search for his face and find him already looking at me.

The panic sets in my chest and I know I need to step out for fresh air but I hesitate to do so in worry of the scene looking bad to the public.

Feeling the meltdown creeping up closer and closer, I look around and notice an arch under the stairs leading to a hallway and remember seeing multiple people passing through during the night and I conclude it must be the path towards a bathroom.

Sending a tense smile his way, I turn around to walk away.

Getting closer to my goal I step aside to let someone exit before walking in and locking the bathroom door behind me.

With the door shutting off most other noise from outside, I stand in front of the mirror and take a deep breath filling my lungs and trying to shake my head off those thoughts before hanging my head down and blowing out.

I raise my head and look at myself in the mirror to see the tears pricking my eyes and silently scold myself before reaching for a towel and trying my best to chase away the tears without messing up my mascara.

Another breath in and I take in my appearance one more time giving myself a pep talk before straightening my dress and deciding to go back out there before anyone starts to whisper about a possible date on the run.

I wouldn't want him to be surrounded.

Or maybe he'd like me to go.

I remember his face, the one he had on those damn stairs where I wondered why I accepted his invitation and why I let myself believe it could be that easy.

I violently shake my head off those thoughts and unlock the door ready to indulge the rest of this night before cutting all contact with Flash Thompson as I hear the distant music flooding back in my ears.

Lost in my thoughts I run straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry I-" My automatic response is cut short when I recognize him and the words get stuck in my throat.

"Hi," he blurs out.

I can only say hi back coldly as I believe any other response would send me back into the bathroom to place another tissue under my eyes.

"I swear I was gonna tell you."

His voice breaks the silence and when my ears register his words, I can't respond and instead walk around him to the other side of the hallway with my mind fixed on the idea that tonight was a mistake.

"No need to say sorry Flash-" I say nonchalantly, done with this poor decision of mine to accept his invitation.

"But I want to!"

I mess with a bust displayed on a table and let my finger slide on the statue trying to avoid his stare.

"Listen, it's completely my fault and I'm an idiot for not telling you. I was freaking out when I asked you to come here with me and I had my mind set so hard on you telling me you wouldn't come that when you said yes I was taken by surprise and the dance completely slipped off my mind."

I listen on with a frown. I stop messing with the bust and turn around leaning on the table as I look down avoiding his stare.

"My mom was the one who reminded me of it and then you called freaking out about the dress so I focused on that and I forgot again and then you walked in with your dress and then there was Garret's grandma and then Garrett and everything else followed so when there was just the two of us I just couldn't remember. And then Léa came in and you looked so sad and scared and angry I didn't know what to do."

I stand there listening to him spit out everything weighing on him before he suddenly breathes in for the first time and looks at me.

"I'm so sorry. I really am."

His gaze traps me and the remorse drowning his irises drains the anger out of me.

"You also lied about the date rule," I say, my voice barely able to convey any emotion.

I don't even find it in myself to yell at him, any scolding coming to mind being one he already gave himself.

"I'm an idiot and a coward and I completely get it if you never want to talk to me again."

At that I don't even know what to answer.

I did say I'd cut all contact with Flash Thompson after tonight but just a few weeks back I would've also said I'd never talk to him outside of schoolwork.

"Okay," I say after a while of silence trying to set us back in a way we can both be comfortable discussing with each other.

"If we're going on an apology spree I think I should be apologizing as well."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for? I'm the one who invited you last minute, so last minute that you didn't even have anything to wear."

I hear his step closing up on me before I put distance between us and walk back and forth down the hall.

"You invited me here to be your partner and I couldn't even participate in the important part of the night. Then there were the stairs and then people were talking and looking at you and Lea and then at me and it was all just so-"

My apology turns into a ramble and the simple retelling of the event produces that same panic inside of me.

Getting ready to excuse myself to go to the bathroom a second time, I turn around to see him standing right behind me. I can't look at him and instead focus my gaze on the floor trying to breathe properly when I feel his arms gently wrap around me and pull me in for a hug.

My finger messes with the fabric at the back of his jacket as my face is buried in the front of it trying to hide my face and not make eye contact.

I fool myself into thinking if I avoid eye contact with him we will stop talking in circles or better yet stop avoiding each other like the plague.

I also hope this way he won't see me on the verge of crying for the second time tonight.

"If anything," he says using my words as I feel his hand come up to stroke my hair, "I'm the one who should've thought better than to think you would still remember those dance classes," he says in a lighter tone.

I recognize his attempt to lighten up the situation and change the topic.

His comment makes me frown and against the warm feeling blossoming in my chest, I lift my face from the depth of his jacket to look at him.

"Yeah your mom talked about that but I don't think I ever took any dance classes, I think she mistook me for someone else."

His face, previously relaxed, falls and a sympathetic smile appears, "No you did," he says quietly, matching the hushed hallway.

My knitted brows are enough indication for him to continue his explanation.

He exhales through his nose and looks down messing with my hand to avoid making eye contact, "It was back when we were…around six? Seven?"

My confusion only deepens as I'm unable to rack my brain for a memory when I feel him tug on my hand gently drawing me closer to him and my frown turns into a muted gasp.

I don't have time to ask what he is doing when he laces our hands together and asks me in the quietest voice if he can.

It is then I realize he's asking to put his hand on my bare back to, I assume, teach me how to waltz.

I can't find my voice, the situation taking me aback so much so that instead of voicing my consent I decide to instead nod and place his hand myself to reassure him of my agreement.

I did not realize that my back was cold, most likely due to getting used to the lack of coverage but I feel it now as his hand feels hot against it.

My full attention is on him before my eyes are drawn down as I see him taking a step forward driving me to respond and step backward.

The motion has me uncontrollably giggling as my left foot follows his right to step to the side.

"Why exactly are we doing this right now?" I ask with another titter.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing Flash," I laugh, "Waltzing in the hallway."

"Dusting up memories. Proving to you that you do know how to dance or if you're right, to teach you how to waltz to apologize for not telling you there would be a dance."

My previous smile falls and I tilt my head back with a loud sigh.

"I apologized again," he awkwardly notices.

"Yes Flash, stop apologizing," I say looking at him straight in the eyes and raising my brows to emphasize my demand.

"I can't, I feel bad."

I reposition my hand on his shoulder with a light stroke as I squeeze our hands letting us continue swaying gently.

I find myself frustrated at his confession when my brain clears up and suddenly remember our last time together.

He feels bad about not telling me about the dance but he doesn't feel bad about running off the last time we saw each other?!

I remember waiting an entire week for a call or even a text. Jumping to my phone at every notification hoping it was him giving me an explanation for running off on me.

I force myself to brush it off when the feeling of his thumb stroking my back envelops me in a daze I want to hold onto until the night inevitably ends.

"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about the dance and I couldn't fulfill my side of the bargain."

"It wasn't a bargain, you just did me a favor."

I can't argue back and decide to look away.

"See, you're doing it."

I look back at him with panic thinking he's going to call me out on my avoidant stare and start a new argument when I see him smile before I notice that he's talking about us dancing and it is then that I look down and realize I'm naturally mirroring his movements.

I laugh impressed at myself before looking back at him as we acknowledge my accomplishment.

Our shared smile diminishes as he stops our dance.

"I didn't invite you because I was desperate," he confesses, "I just really wanted to hang out with you."

I stand there frozen before he gently nudges me sending us back into a soft waltz.

His honesty stuns me and I follow his lead again.

"I think it might be the first time you've been honest with me," It's my turn to confess.

"I don't always lie," he defends himself.

"No, but you never opened up like that before."

I see him trying to avoid eye contact and I silently scold myself as my words seem to drive him away once again.

"I like that," I quickly follow up.

That does it. his eyes raise back to meet mine.

"Why don't you do it more often?"

At that, he seems to hesitate as we gently sway side to side.

"You know friends share their feelings," I remind him of our conversation yesterday where he invited me to come here as a friend.

I can see that the memory rings a bell as he stops our movement once more.

I see his eyes desperate to say something but he's struggling with himself to find the right words as I witness his mouth open and close over and over again.

"See, like riding a bike. It comes back naturally," he manages to say stepping back trying to avoid the subject.

"You're doing it again," I say trying my best to not sound frustrated.

He huffs and slides his hand down his face.

He huff?!

How is he the one pissed off right now?!

I cross my hands taking a harsher stance.

"Okay, you said open so I'm gonna be open," he says fidgeting around.

"If you want us to be friends, you can't expect me to just tell you everything that goes through my head at every moment."

I sigh, "I guess it's fair."

My response appears to relax him.

"But," he interjects, "I guess I could make an effort."

I smile despite myself and look away to try and hide the fact that he turned the situation around once again.

My attempt fails when he looks for my face to catch me smile.

I turn away but he walks around me trying to catch me.

In a last attempt, I hid my face on the verge of laughter.

"Hey wait, you're cheating!" he protests with a chuckle.

I feel his hand on my wrists and yet he doesn't use force to uncover my face.

We stay like this for a moment before I muster the courage to slide my hands away from my eyes and meet his.

He smiles back and that feeling comes again, the one where I feel electricity run through my body.

Like the night he kissed me.

I feel frozen in space like I'm only able to breathe and blink.

He gets closer, so close that our forehead touches and I instinctively close my eyes waiting to feel his lips on mine like that night.

He's so close and yet doesn't make a move to close the distance between us. It makes me groan internally when I remember he's probably waiting for me to make a move.

He's literally two inches away from me and I'm still here what more does he need? for me to swing a flare in the air? Scream at him at the top of my lungs to kiss me?

The tension is suffocating and it's cut short when I feel a breeze of air where I should feel him.

"Thank you, I really wanted to dance with Lea. And don't be mad, I promise, you'll get a dance too," he says cheekily as I stand there completely confused.

He's quick to hold my shoulders and push us to the side. It's when I get my senses back and see a man walk past us to access the bathroom.

I get the answer I'm looking for when I look back at him and see him smile at me.

That's when I have to hold back my laugh with him as the bathroom door closes.

Placing my hand on my mouth, I snort before I see an arm presented to me and look up to see Flash waiting for me.

With the tension now gone I happily hold his arm as he directs us away from the lonely hallway to the booming evening when we cross paths with Mme.Thompson.

"There you are!" she says joyfully.

"I was talking to a few colleagues and they were adamant that I at least ask you to join us."

I open my mouth trying to find the words to politely decline when her son beats me to it.

"No Mom I think it's time for her to go home. Her aunt will kill me if I don't drive her back before 1."

Sharing her chagrin, Mme.Thompson bids me her goodbyes before she shares a look with Flash and tells him to come back as soon as possible telling him he'll be spending time with Garret.

The end of her sentence isn't met with agreement or joy but silence as I'm ushered outside with the cold temperature that doesn't get to reach me before I feel his jacket engulf my shoulders once again.

Another gesture he makes is to offer his hand to help me walk down the stairs of the building. I pause and look down at my heels and conclude like him that it's going to be harder to step down the stairs than it was to climb them.

The thought makes me laugh to myself before I accept his hand and carefully make my way down with another set of giggles.

"I'm never borrowing heels from May ever again," I manage to let out in between giggles.

"Miss Parker forgot to calculate the probability that those heels were gonna be a problem?"

The remark takes me by surprise and makes me stumble.

I crouch to make sure I don't end up face-first on the concrete and my position makes me snort as I hide my face behind my hands and kneel in the middle of the stairs to ground myself.

From any other perspective, I look drunk and I'm being chaperoned by Harrison Thompson's son.

My laugh turns into a fit and I'm left laughing out loud, gripping my aching stomach and praying the feeling doesn't kill me.

"Okay I think I got it, sit down," he says laughing about my situation.

Lost in my euphoria I barely manage to sit up on one of the stairs waiting to see his plan to help me down.

I try to calm myself down when he stands in front of the stairs and places my hands on his shoulders. I finally understand his idea when I'm lifted in the air by my hips and grip his shoulder in a reflex as I'm left gasping when I land on the ground.

I gaze at him and his previous smile falls a bit as he stands there with a blank expression.

I'm almost sure I see his eyes switch to my lips.

"Sorry," he apologizes for his sudden plan to get me down those stairs with a small smile trying his luck at diffusing the tension.

I reassure him before he gently directs me to his car.

The silence is calming and comfortable and I notice I had never been in his car before.

I bask in the comfort, all giddy as I look outside the window admiring the city I love to swing in so much.

He chimes in with small talks here and there and in my new feeling of serenity, I mindlessly make one-word answers.

After a while of admiring the scenery, I look back inside the car when I notice him fidgeting around looking tense.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you mad?" he asks as his hand tightens up on the steering wheel.

"No, why do you ask?" I return the question fidgeting in my seat to get more comfortable.

"I don't know, you don't talk much. Usually I can't get you to stop talking," he says scratching his face before returning his focus to the road, his side eye gauging my reaction.

I guess the comfortable silence wasn't shared and so I rattle my brain to find a topic we could discuss to fill the apparent discomfort he feels.

Trying to take the attention away from the topic of 'us', I remember the look he and McCoy shared and decide to ask hastily.

"Are you gonna reconcile with Garret?"

"Is that what you're mad about?"

"No Flash, I'm not mad. I'm just trying to make conversation since you seem to think my silence means that I'm angry."

"So you're not mad," he affirms one more time.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Cool," he finishes before he falls himself into silence.

"So? Garret?" I ask after a few beats of silence.

"Let's not talk about Garret."

"Too late, now I'm curious," I say turning on my side to give him my full attention.

"I reminded you how to dance cut me some slack," he whines.

"No," I laugh, "You taught me how to dance. I told you I didn't take dance courses."

His own laugh is short-lived, "Yes, you did."

"When?" I challenge him.

He pauses and takes a deep breath as we reach a red light, "It was during that time you moved to your Aunt May's."

The confession throws a cold in the vehicle.

"Oh," is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

"I remember," he says messing with his steering wheel waiting for the light to turn green, "You looked out of it during that time. It was what? 1st grade? 2nd grade?"

I wish he wouldn't pause in between bombs because the multiple aspects of the current situation make everything point to us being forced to look at each other.

I audibly exhale and wait for anything to come and fill the heavy silence of the car.

I even think about reaching over and turning on the radio.

"Why would we talk about my friendship with Garret?" he tries to distract from the conversation with a new topic.

"Oh, so there IS a friendship," I point out jumping on the occasion to step away from the previous topic, proud we have succeeded in shifting the subject.

In a streak of luck, the light turns green, and new chatter fills the car with a newfound lightness.

He sighs, "I don't know. Would that be a problem?"

"Why do you ask me? I don't manage your friendships."

"I don't know. I thought about just leaving that friendship behind but who knows," he says glancing at me with a teasing glint in his eyes, "If you root for him I could find it in myself to grace McCoy."

I chuckle as I change my position deciding to hug the headrest with my arm to rest my head on it.

"Sounds to me like you're afraid to choose for yourself."

He scoffs and laughs it off, "No, I'm just asking for someone else's opinion. Second opinions are important too."

It's silent as he shifts gears and I realize we're getting closer to my neighborhood.

"I thought about just ghosting him for a while. And with what happened last time, it feels like he's never gonna change," he confesses, "And maybe that's how it's supposed to end between us two."

"Ghosting?"

"Yeah, I don't think a discussion could get us anywhere useful. Garret is not the type of person to apologize anyways."

His demeanor is nonchalant but his expression shows a rare vulnerability.

"Some people just don't grow up," I barely manage to hear him mutter.

I hesitate but the observation kills me.

"That's very wise of you," I notice out loud.

He realizes I must've heard him and chuckles mostly at himself.

"I am wise," he proudly states as he turns the car again.

"That's just something Léa said," he adds.

He notices when I frown, "Believe it or not but my problems with Garret started before his attempt on your life," he jokes as he parks.

With the car now off I place my hand on his shoulder as a silent encouragement, squeezing and smiling at him before letting go of the headrest and looking out the window to see my apartment building.

I don't think much of it and open the car door to slip out of the vehicle.

"You know I'm supposed to be the one that opens the door for you, right?"

I turn my focus away from the building to see him getting out of his car, his head poking up from his car's roof.

He gets closer and stands right beside me at the bottom of the paved stairs.

He faces me and with newfound courage, I try my luck.

"Didn't you say we were going to this event as friends?"

"Opening a car door doesn't mean anything. It just says I have manners."

I hum impressed by his quick answer and see his hand already out for me to take.

Frowning, his smile turns my grimace into a bright smile when I recall the stairs incident.

I chuckle and grip his hand as he leads me up the stairs.

"See," he says as we reach the top of the stairs, "Just a gentleman."

My laugh dies down as we face each other with an awkward silence that I break when I slip his jacket off of my shoulder and hand it back to him.

He grasps it and looks down at it. He seems to hesitate before he looks back up at me clutching the fabric in his hands.

"School starts back tomorrow. See you there?" he asks.

"Yeah," I let out, my voice softer than it should be, "See you there."

I end the night with a kiss on his cheek, taking the risk of letting it last longer than it should.

The silence isn't tense or awkward and I know this time it goes for the both of us as we share a smile and I grip his shoulder squeezing it one last time.

"Good luck with McCoy."

His serene expression turns sour as he scrunchs his eyes shut and rolls his head back.

"You didn't have to bring up McCoy," he whines as I let a quick laugh escape me one last time tonight.

"Good night," I say with a smile, satisfied with how fulfilling this evening has been.

"Good night."

I let go of him and step back towards the door before I have to inevitably turn around and leave him there.

My last view of him is his figure standing right there looking back at me with a charming smile.

I'm not sure but I could swear he grazes his cheek where I kissed him goodbye in-between the smallest gap of the building's door as it shuts close.

#flash thompson imagine #flash thompson x reader #flash thompson x oc #flash thompson fanfic #flash thompson #spiderman homecoming #spiderman: no way home #spiderman far from home #spiderman: far from home #fanfic

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