#why did they actually sound like them all like at the very least the George actor nailed his one little intro line?

[pucksandpower]

I have an idea for the Grid Kiiiiiids. They all try to start teaching their sister to drive a kart 🥹 up to you how old she is when they start lol but you know Max and Charles especially want that girl in a kart ASAP

Grid Kids: Little Racer

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids can’t wait to take their sister karting

Series Masterlist

Lando looks particularly proud as he rubs his hands together. “Alright, we got the best present for her. Trust us, she’s going to love it!”

George nods enthusiastically, “It’s honestly the best thing ever. A bit of an investment for her future, you know?”

Max, trying to hide a grin, chips in, “And it’ll give her a head start in racing.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously, “What did you boys do?”

Charles can barely contain his excitement. “Just open the garage and see!”

You slowly make your way to the garage with growing trepidation, the grid kids practically bouncing on their feet behind you. When you open the door, there, in all its glory, sits a shiny new kart, complete with racing stripes and a custom-made helmet with your daughter’s initials.

Your jaw drops. “She’s one! She can barely even walk! What is she going to do with a kart?”

Lance, looking a little defensive, offers up ideas, “Well, she can ... sit in it? Look cute? Take photos for Instagram?”

George chimes in, “It’s never too early to get them started, right? I mean, she’s got the genes for it.”

“Think of it as a ... decorative statement piece for now? Then, in a few years, she can actually use it,” Mick suggests.

You can’t help but chuckle at their over-the-top enthusiasm. “You guys ... she’ll probably be more interested in the cardboard box it came in than the actual kart itself right now.”

Lando pouts, “Well, when you put it like that ...”

You laugh, “Thank you. It’s a very thoughtful gift. But we’re going to have to save it for when she’s a bit older.”

Max smirks, “By a bit older, you mean like five, right?”

You shake your head, exasperated by your impressively stubborn sons but always grateful for how much they love their sister. “We’ll see.”

***

Four years later, the sound of shattering glass pierces the quiet night. In an instant, you’re on your feet, grabbing a baseball bat from the corner of your room. Sebastian, equally alarmed, snatches up a table lamp from his nightstand, wielding it like some sort of medieval weapon.

As you both stealthily approach the main room, you hear muffled whispers.

“Why did you have to step on the vase, Max!” George hisses.

“It was dark! And Lando pushed me,” Max retorts defensively.

Lando protests, “Did not!”

You round the corner, brandishing your bat and glaring at the intruders. “What are you doing in here?”

The grid kids freeze like deer caught in headlights, Lando holding a giant Happy 5th Birthday balloon, Charles cradling a shiny new helmet, and Mick holding a small cake with five candles.

Max tries to salvage the situation with a sheepish grin, “Well, you did say she could start karting when she turned five. We just wanted to be the first to take her.”

Lance points to the clock on the wall that now reads 12:03 AM, “Technically, she’s five now.”

You sigh, lowering your bat, a smile slowly forming. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sebastian chuckles as he puts the lamp down, “At least wait till morning. And next time, maybe use the door? You all have keys for a reason.”

Charles grins brightly, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lando glances at the broken vase and nudges a shard of ceramic with his toe. “Sorry about that. We’ll get you a new one.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Just ... go home. We’ll see you at a more reasonable hour.”

Mick winks with a cheeky smile, “How about 7 AM? Sounds reasonable to me.”

You groan, ushering them out. “Go, before I change my mind about the karting!”

As the door closes behind them, you and Sebastian share a laugh. The grid kids never fail to bring some chaos into your lives.

***

The morning sun is just starting to peek through the curtains when you hear the soft hum of engines outside your window. Rubbing your eyes, you sit up and glance at the clock. 6:57 AM. “Seriously?” You mutter under your breath.

The doorbell rings and the soft hum now sounds suspiciously like the familiar excited murmurs of multiple voices.

You throw on a robe and head downstairs, opening the door to find the grid kids, all in their race suits, clustered on your front porch. Behind them, a trailer holds the tiny kart, polished to a shine and adorned with a large bow.

Max declares, “Told you we’d be back!”

Charles holds out a tray of coffee, “We brought reinforcements.”

George steps forward, a picnic basket in hand. “And breakfast! We figured that after all the excitement, you might be hungry.”

Lando bounces like a hyperactive puppy. “So, is she ready? We’ve got the whole day planned out!”

Sebastian, now also at the door in his pajamas, chuckles, “Let the poor girl wake up first.”

Mick is holding a small helmet and gloves. “We’ve got everything she needs.”

“We even have a little race suit for her.” Lance shows off the preschooler-sized suit, complete with the German flag and her name. “We got it customized and everything!”

You can’t help but join in on their enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. Just give us a minute to get her up and ready.”

The grid kids cheer, high-fiving each other.

As you head back inside, Sebastian wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You know, for a group of the most elite drivers in the world, they sure get excited about kiddie karting.”

You smile back, “That’s what makes it all the more special.”

***

You tiptoe into your daughter’s room, finding her sprawled out on the bed among a sea of stuffed animals. Sebastian follows closely behind, his excitement barely contained.

“You do the honors,” you whisper, motioning to the tiny alarm clock on her nightstand.

Sebastian nudges the clock and it lets out a soft rendition of a race car engine revving. Your daughter stirs, her little eyes slowly blinking open.

“Vroom vroom,” she murmurs drowsily, pushing herself up with a yawn.

“Morning, sunshine,” you greet, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Ready for your big day?”

She beams, “Karting day?”

Sebastian chuckles, “That’s right! And you’ve got a whole pit crew waiting for you downstairs.”

Her eyes widen in excitement, “Brothers are here?”

You nod, “Bright and early. They couldn’t wait.”

She practically jumps out of bed, “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Downstairs, the grid kids are in a frenzy of activity, making last-minute checks on the kart, packing snacks, and discussing strategies.

“You sure she doesn’t need a quick racing line tutorial?” Lando asks, pointing at some scribbles on a whiteboard.

Max rolls his eyes, “She’s five, mate.”

“Exactly. The perfect age to start,” Lando retorts.

Your daughter giggles as Charles lifts her onto his shoulders, “Look at you, future world champ!”

George hands her a small helmet, “Safety first!”

She tries it on and it slips down half of her head.

“Maybe we’ll adjust that,” Mick chuckles, helping to resize the straps.

Once everything is packed and ready, the convoy sets off for the track. Your daughter, sandwiched between Lando and George, is treated to a hilariously exaggerated commentary of their drive.

“Watch that apex! Oh no, a dramatic overtake by that ... minivan?” Lando narrates, making your daughter giggle uncontrollably.

At the track, the grid kids swarm around, setting up the kart, unloading equipment, and securing the area.

Lance kneels in front of your daughter. “Now, remember, it’s all about having fun, okay? But also ... don’t crash.”

She giggles, “Okay, Lancey.”

Charles takes her hand, leading her to the kart. “Ready to hop in?”

She nods eagerly, and with a little help, she’s seated and ready.

With the helmet securely in place and the engine purring softly, she looks up at you and Sebastian with big, excited eyes.

“Remember, slow and steady,” you call out, giving her a thumbs-up.

She revs the engine, and under the watchful eyes of her brothers, begins to kart for the first time.

As she makes her way around the track, the grid kids cheer raucously and even get a bit teary-eyed. The sight of the little kart zooming around, driven by your fearless daughter, is a memory none of you will forget.

When she finally finishes her laps and the engine dies down, the grid kids rush over, lifting her into the air in celebration.

Lando, panting from excitement as if he were the one driving, declares, “Best. Day. Ever!”

Your daughter is grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it again tomorrow?”

Sebastian pulls you close as you watch your children make plans to kart together soon. “Looks like we’ve got another racer in the family.”

Your heart melts when you see the look of pure joy on your daughter’s face as she’s surrounded by her brothers. “Formula 1 better watch out.”

[fxrmuladaydreams]

the boss’s daughter (gr63)

george russell x wolff!reader

summary: you become attached to a certain british driver, but he panics when he thinks about the repercussions of your relationship

notes: i’ve only ever written george one other time and it didn’t get all that much love, but that could’ve been bc the tags weren’t working so we’ll see how this goes. i hate having to do math with ages when it comes to fics so we’re all going to pretend that toto and susie are older than they are so they can have a daughter who is age appropriate for george 👍

Your father had tried his hardest, for years, to get you interested in racing. Your parents were Susie and Toto Wolff for god’s sake, it didn’t make any sense to him why you were so disinterested in cars.

Susie tried to convince him it was okay. “So she’s not going to be a Formula One driver, she’ll find something else. Something she enjoys.”

Little did they know that something was going to end up a someone.

Some might’ve called it lazy, your gift to your father on father’s day being the promise you’d attend a race weekend with him. But you would call it financially responsible.

You mother made you keep your promise, even after gifting him something he’d actually use.

“It’ll make him so happy.” She cooed at you.

And happy he was, taking you around the paddock from garage to garage, introducing you to the other team principals, even a few of the drivers. You ended your tour back at the Mercedes building, you father’s arm over your shoulder as he guided you through the crowds.

He tugs you along with him as he talks to the engineers. You’re sure it’s important, but to you it just sounds like nonsense droning on.

Your eyes wander around the garage, stopping on the two drivers standing in the corner.

You’d met Lewis before, you father adored the man. He was invited to various family gatherings and parties. He was sweet, his dog Roscoe even sweeter.

You hadn’t met George yet though. Sure, you’d seen him on the team instagram, accidentally turning himself into a meme practically every weekend.

You watch as George talks animatedly with Lewis, his hair slightly falling into his face. Lewis eventually gives George a pat on his arm, then walks away, leaving the younger driver alone.

“You haven’t taken me to meet George yet.” You tell your father once he’s finished with the engineers, softly tugging at his arm.

He pulls you over to the young British driver, who seems to stand up straighter in the presence of your father.

“George, this is my daughter, Y/n.” He introduces you.

When George’s eyes meet yours, you can’t help but drown in them. The soft green practically glitters in the sun.

“Nice to meet you.” He says, holding his hand out to you.

You take his hand in yours and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Toto looks between the two of you and very quickly notices the glint in your eyes. He also notices the way George’s lips tilt upwards in a soft smile.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s leave George to get ready.” He says, attempting to pull you away from George.

“But I want to see the car.” You keep yourself planted in front of George.

“You can go see Lewis’ car. I’m sure George wants some time alone before the race.”

“I can show her. I’m not busy.” George says, shrinking slightly when Toto’s eyes meet his.

“Alright.” Toto says gruffly, making sure to follow right behind you as George leads you to his side of the garage.

George almost looks nervous as he shows you his car, pointing out different things, then showing you everything on the steering wheel. You step closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as he points at the different buttons.

Toto lets out a breath when it’s time for George to actually get ready for the race and get in the car. He pulls you back over to where he sits with the engineers and sits you down next to him.

The race is long, but at least if you watch the screens you’ll actually be able to see the cars driving as opposed to their zooming by on the actual track.

George only makes it barely outside the podium, scoring P4 after the race. You watch as he pulls his helmet and balaclava off in frustration. His golden hair sticks out in every direction. A light sheen of sweat coats his face, and you can see the light pink imprints on his cheeks from the balaclava.

You’re able to escape your father for a moment after the race to find George talking to some of the Mercedes workers. He’s got his race suit tied around his waist and a water bottle in his hands.

“Hi George.” You say when there’s a break in their conversation.

“Hi Y/n.” He says, giving you a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed your first race.”

You shrug. “It was alright. I much preferred the company before and after the race.” You tell him, letting your hand trail up and down his bicep.

He flushes under your gaze, stuttering out a quick “thank you” before he’s pulled away.

He doesn’t see you again that day, hoping that you’ll decide to attend another race sometime in the future.

You do, hoping to see the British driver again, maybe this time without your father watching over you like a hawk.

You attempt to seem more casual in the garage this week, only letting your eyes wander occasionally in search of George. He’s not hard to find, his height making him easy to see.

You catch his eye as he gets ready for the race. He gives you a soft smile, to which you reciprocate and give him a wink. His face flushes as he quickly tugs the balaclava over his head.

He doesn’t get a podium, but stays pretty high in the points. He’s slick with sweat when he gets out of his car, his hair is flattened to his head, and sticks out when he runs his hands through it.

He lets out a breath when he gets back to his driver’s room, closing the door behind him, but feels it get caught in his throat again when he sees you on his couch.

“Hey George. Good race.” You tell him.

“Th-thank you.” He stutters out. “Who let you in here?” He doesn’t sound put off or offended in his question, he’s genuinely curious as to how you found your way to his room.

“My dad is the team principal. I have access to pretty much wherever I want.” You stand up and slowly walk over to him. “Look at your hair.” You say as you softly run your fingers through the golden strands, attempting to straighten them out.

George huffs out a small laugh, not sure what to do. You’re very close to him now, practically pressed up against him. He can see the sparkles in your eyes, and can smell your sweet shampoo.

You catch his eyes wandering around, seemingly looking anywhere but at you. You use your fingers yo tilt his chin down so that he has to look at you. You smirk up at him.

“Do I make you nervous George?” You ask softly.

His cheeks flush. “No, no, I’m fine.” He gives you an unconvincing smile.

“You are actually.” You tell him as you lean towards him. You give him plenty of time to back away before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

The kiss is brief, teasing. George can’t quite process it’s happening before you pull away.

You give him a soft pat on his chest, the black fireproofs smooth under your hand. “See you later George.” You wink, then leave him in his driver’s room.

George can’t seem to look his boss in the eye after your encounter in his room, especially not when you seem to find him at every race, and pull him into secluded rooms or hallways with your lips attached to his.

He’s in dangerous territory, he knows that. But he can’t stop. Not when your tongue is practically down his throat, and not when he holds you in his arms in his hotel room at night. He’s grown attached to you, addicted one might even say.

He doesn’t know what this is, neither of you have put a label on it yet, but the time you’re spending together sure feels an awful lot like the time a couple would spend together.

He was equally relieved and terrified when you told him that you wanted to make your relationship public. It was in his hotel room, you were wrapped up in his arms and a blanket, playing with his hands when you told him. He was glad to hear that you were in fact dating, that his heart could stop clenching every time he was with you, wondering if it was going to be the last.

He however knew that he was not mentally or physically prepared to find out what was going to happen when Toto found out. Was he going to lose his job? His life? Both were reasonable expectations in his head.

You’d been around George long enough now to sense his unease. You sit up, slightly pulling yourself away from him. “Unless… you don’t want to…”

He can’t speak, he can’t find the right words to say, he’s seemingly paralyzed.

“Okay. I get it.” You say, getting up from his bed. “You can’t date the boss’s daughter. Obviously. It was stupid to think this could work.”

He scrambles up from the bed when he finally processes your words. His sweatpants get caught in the blanket, tugging them lower down his hips. “Y/n, wait-”

You grab your small bag you brought to his room and walk to the door. “It’s okay George. Really, I understand.” You sigh. “I had fun though.” You give him a small smile before leaving.

He gives you space for the rest of the night, hoping that he’ll be able to find you at the track the next day to talk things through. He’s surprised when he doesn’t see you anywhere. He attempts to casually ask Toto where you had gone.

Toto doesn’t think twice before answering. “She wasn’t feeling well. She took a plane back home this morning.”

He waits for you to appear again, race after race after race, hoping that you’ll come back and talk to him. He tries calling, texting, even messaging you via instagram, all of which go ignored.

He feels like he’s lost a part of himself. And he’s determined to get that back.

Toto is surprised to find George at the door to his home over the break. The poor British driver wrapped up in a coat, shivering, clutching an almost frozen looking bouquet in his hands.

“George? What are you doing?” He asks.

George takes a deep breath. “I’m here to see Y/n. We were together during the season, but I made a mistake, and now I’m here to apologize and ask her if she’ll have me. Again.”

Toto looks even more confused. “You were dating my daughter?”

George gulps. “Yes. I was. And it was amazing, and I really care about her. And I would like to keep… dating your daughter…” he trails off.

“Leave.” Toto attempts to shut the door.

“Dad?” George sees you appear behind your father. “George, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apologize. I shouldn’t have let you leave, and I should’ve been able to make our relationship public. I’m here to ask you for another chance.”

You brush your father out of the way, and grab onto George’s free hand, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. His hand is freezing, and you feel just how cold his cheeks are when you softly cup his face. You don’t know if the pink blush on his face is from you or the cold.

“No. This is not happening. Absolutely not.” Toto says.

“Dad, I’m dating George. Whether you like it or not.” You turn to face him. “George is a good guy. You know that, you see him practically every weekend. And I’m going to be very upset if you kill and/or fire my boyfriend.”

Toto looks back and forth between the two of you. George with his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and you with a pout on your lips and your eyebrows raised, as if challenging him to do something.

“Fine. You can date my daughter. But no sneaking away at races.” Then he looks directly at you. “No going into his driver’s room.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I won’t go into George’s driver’s room anymore.”

“Anymore?!”

You giggle as George tries to hide himself behind you.

[thatfandomslut]

No Matter What

Regine George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warning: insecurity

Request:

Valentine's / Follower Celebration Request; Regina George w/ quote 51 and piece of chocolate 5. Or: “In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you.” w/ arguing

Valentine's / Follower Celebration Requests are closed.

"So, what happened?" Cady asked as she passed (Y/n) the glass of water from her counter. What is usually the time that Cady takes to tutor (Y/n) has turned into a therapy session since (Y/n) and Regina are arguing. This was a very rare occasion as they typically settled things in private but Regina brought Karen and Gretchen into it, so (Y/n) has come to Cady. Hence why there was a math book and homework, that was twenty-five percent finished, scattered on the table.

(Y/n) accepted the water gratefully, sighing as she wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I told her I felt uncomfortable with her relationship with Shane Omen. I never said they couldn't be friends. I wouldn't ever tell anyone who to be friends with or they couldn't be friends with. However, she does that for me all the time. That's why I felt like I had the right to at least let her know that the way she was still friends with her ex-boyfriend, the boy she cheated on Aaron with, makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I'm just insecure, but them having a relationship worries me." (Y/n) explained, hoping she didn't sound bitter.

There was a hum that escaped Cady as she listened, nodding carefully. (Y/n) She could see that she was thinking, which made her dread that maybe she had no one on her side. "I understand your worries. I wouldn't feel comfortable either. I think it's actually very healthy to establish boundaries. I also don't think it's fair that Regina has made you unfriend people and then get mad when you express your discomfort with her and Shane." Cady sat beside her, putting a comforting hand on her arm. (Y/n) felt validated by Cady's words, happy to finally have someone who sees the disagreement from her point of view.

"I feel like it wouldn't matter if she didn't cheat on someone else with him. I don't care that she's friends with Aaron or her other exes. It's just Shane." (Y/n) told Cady, leaning back in her seat. She felt a bit embarrassed by how insecure she was, but she knew Cady wasn't judging her. "I just sometimes don't even feel good enough for Regina. Then, I find out she's hanging out with Shane Omen. What am I supposed to think? I know it's bad for me. I'm supposed to trust her. I do trust her. I'm just being insecure. I just really love her."

Cady rubbed her back softly. She understood what (Y/n) was saying. Oftentimes, she felt insecure around the girls herself. But, she knew it was a different level since she was in an actual relationship with Regina. "In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. I honestly feel like that is the love that you and Regina have. Maybe, you two just need to sit down, and maybe you can try to be vulnerable with her like you were with me." She offered softly.

She was right, too. (Y/n) and Regina did share a love that would overcome this. (Y/n) did love Regina despite all of her moods. She loved her in the morning when her hair was messy, she loved her in the afternoon when she was at lunch looking her most confident. "You're right," (Y/n) said softly, looking at her homework. "But first, I really do need help with my homework." They shared a small fit of laughter before Cady helped her finish her work.

After tutoring, she headed to Regina, wondering what she was going to say. Admittedly, (Y/n) felt a bit nervous. She wasn't the best at confrontation. That's why she sat in her car for ten minutes. Eventually, she pried herself from the driver's seat and made her way to Regina's front door. Before (Y/n) could knock or ring the doorbell, Regina opened the door with flushed cheeks. She stared at (Y/n) for a moment before running a manicured hand through her blonde hair. "I saw you sitting in your car for a while." She confessed, looking away a bit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, but there was no tension. It was just a thick heaviness of nervousness in the air. "I'm sorry," the two of them said in sync before laughing softly, a bit of awkwardness lifting off their shoulders. It was nice to see their anger over their last argument has finally worn off. (Y/n) always hated when Regina was angry, and Regina always tried to make sure (Y/n) was never angry. They worked together like that, always trying to protect each other's feelings while communicating and telling the truth. Sometimes, it led to little arguments, but the Shane Omen one was one of their bigger blow-ups.

Regina led her into the house, all the way to her room. "I want you to know that I cut off Shane. I realized that you had every right to feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry for invalidating your feelings the way that I did. I hope that you'll be able to forgive me." Regina said with a soft smile. (Y/n) only saw that smile when Regina was feeling vulnerable with her. Unlike (Y/n), Regina wasn't someone who wore her heart on her sleeve. So, when she apologizes, it means she took a lot of time out of her day to consider the things that have happened.

(Y/n) sighed, noticing that Regina's hand was taken into hers still. She laced their fingers together as she got the words sorted in her mind. "I'm sorry, too. I realized that I was just jealous and insecure. I trust you, and I should've made that clear. Instead, I let my fear control me." She explained, feeling tears brim in her eyes as she began to feel embarrassed again. She grew even more embarrassed when the tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Regina wiped the tears away softly, kissing (Y/n) gently on the lips. "(Y/n), I love you. No matter what I love you. I love so much it's crazy. You were valid to feel everything that you felt. The truth is, I should've cut him off a long time ago. None of this was fair to you." She said carefully, pulling away, but letting her hands stay to rub away any stray tear that continued to cascade down her girlfriend's cheeks.

There was a soft smile that pulled at the corners of (Y/n)'s lips as she sniffed. "I love you, too, Regina. No matter what." She said softly, moving in to kiss Regina once more.

[abiiors]

In Stages

For @alien-princess-v and @nowujustlooklikeanyone who requested similar George fics, so I thought I would combine them into one big piece. I hope you enjoy this :)

Also inspired by “I've been in love with her for ages / And I can't seem to get it right / I fell in love with her in stages / My whole life”

Five times he almost confessed + the one time he finally did

some angst but a happy ending, female reader, alcohol, weed etc.

wc: 6k

For as long as George can remember, he has been a coward. No really, every time he sees you hanging out with Matty and the rest of your friends, he wonders if this is it, if this is the right time. He has never felt so uncharacteristically shy around anybody before. But George feels absolutely tongue-tied when you’re in the room simply existing. 

The house party they’re throwing has taken a bit of a wild turn. Raucous laughter drowns out the sound of music in the room, a playlist that George agonised over for weeks that’s now just being treated as background music. 

‘God, you two are disgusting,’ you’re laughing at Matty and his girlfriend and he watches from a distance as his best friend blushes and slaps away your hand. 

The genuine happiness on all three of your faces makes his heart ache, makes him feel a little like an outsider. Especially since you’re primarily the cause of Matty’s happiness right now; what with you introducing him to the girl he’s now in love with. 

‘Come on, mate,’ Matty waves him over, ‘why are you sulking in the corner?’

He is sulking a bit, that’s true, but he still makes a face when Matty mentions it. 

‘What’s up with you?’ you ask and turn your body to him as soon as he sits down. He is wildly aware of the fact that your knees are touching; his covered in some old jeans, yours bare seeing as how the dress you wear ends around your thighs. And so he is very aware of the fact that he could be touching you if he slightly moved his hand. 

‘Hello?’ you wave your hand in front of his face. ‘Ground control to Major Daniel,’ you speak in a sing-song voice and he laughs a bit at the reference. 

‘Sorry,’ he feels a bit embarrassed for zoning out on you, ‘sorry, it’s been a long day.’

‘Something getting wasted can’t solve?’ you quirk an eyebrow and extend your glass to him. A red solo cup full of cheap beer. A party full of cliches. But he takes a sip of it gratefully and then cringes at the taste. 

‘This is disgusting!’

‘Don’t go all bougie on me now, Daniel. I’ve seen you drink much worse stuff.’ 

He laughs. Because he always laughs when you’re even remotely funny, he can’t help himself. Matty, seemingly bored of the conversation, pulls his girlfriend off his lap and whisks her away to the dance floor. George tries to ignore the pang of longing he feels. How is it so easy for his friend to simply just…ask?

Ask you to set him up with her. 

And then ask her to be his girlfriend. 

And ask her to dance with him; swaying to their own tune in spite of the fast-paced song.  

He looks away, clears his throat for some courage. ‘Let’s go up to the rooftop.’ 

‘Trying to get me all alone? Oooohhh,’ you waggle your eyebrows at him suggestively and he’s suddenly made aware of how tipsy you actually are. He simply rolls his eyes and tries to stop the words from bubbling up. 

Yes, he’s trying to get you all alone. Because he just wants to keep you for himself so he could go to bed with you next to him and wake up with you in his arms and he wouldn’t get irrationally jealous seeing you talking to other men because he would know you’re coming home to him at the end of the day. 

‘Yes, I’m trying to solicit you,’ he replies, hiding his true intentions under sarcasm, ‘now will you come with me?’

So you go, up and up the spiral staircase holding his hand and giggling all the way in anticipation. He suspects it has more to do with the drugs and the alcohol in your system than the fact that he’s funny. He has barely spoken a word tonight without overanalysing it at least ten times. 

‘Are you going to tell me the names of the stars and woo me?’ you sway from side to side, dance away from his grip when he comes any closer. He wonders if it’s a game to you, if you simply like the chase, the thrill of it. And he’s willing to walk to the ends of the earth if all you give him is one sign. 

‘I won’t need to give you astronomy lessons to woo you’ he laughs, tries to keep his tone casual. 

It’s all quiet up here. The sounds of the party downstairs are so muffled, as if you are under some blanket. A space only for the two of you. 

‘My, my George,’ you gasp, ‘are you flirting with me?’

Have been for the past six months, he thinks somewhat bitterly but settles on shaking his head in exasperation. He is, perhaps, slightly tipsier than he thought but he’s not exactly inebriated. So when you grab your hands in his, and try to twirl him around, he simply lets you. 

‘It’s lovely up here,’ you close your eyes for a brief moment and breathe in the fresh air. ‘It’s nice being with you.’

His head spins a bit at the words that have just come out of your mouth. At the way your hands are fisting in his shirt.

If this were a romance movie, he would see a shooting star right about now; crashing, hurtling towards the ground at full speed. He would wish upon it, wish for the girl he’s always wanted. Then you would look at him through your eyelashes, tilt your chin up, perhaps even get on your tiptoes to reach him better. But you wouldn’t have to. Because he would already be there, leaning in and closing the distance between you two. And you would maybe gasp softly and pull him closer still. Unwilling and incapable of pulling away from him. 

Instead, you stumble. 

And instead of the shooting star, it’s his hopes and wishes that come crashing down. 

He’s not drunk but you definitely are. 

‘Alright, then,’ he sighs in resignation. ‘Let’s just sit down before you hurt yourself.’

And right there on the rooftop, with your backs against the wall and your head on his shoulder, he thinks that maybe this is nice. Maybe he can settle for this intimacy for now; having your side pressed against his, softly humming along to the echos of the song downstairs. It’s so out of tune and bad but he still wishes he could bottle up this sound. Keep it only for himself. 

Slowly, the humming stops, replaced by sounds of deep, even breathing. All the courage it took him to bring you up to the rooftop so he could finally kiss you, all of it leaves him in a rush, leaves him weary. So he simply sticks to pressing a lingering kiss on your head. A sweet, chaste, friendly kiss. Just like he always has. 

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

George’s heart is pounding. And you’re not the reason this time. 

He can’t stop thinking and overthinking all the last-minute changes to the setlist, all the small gaps where he can mess up and derail the whole show. The rest of the guys seem fine. The rest of them are devouring a large pizza as if they haven’t eaten in days. And he can’t bring himself to even think about food. 

‘You look like you’re gonna throw up.’ Your voice jerks him out of yet another mini-spiral. 

How could he forget you were going to watch the show today? Their biggest show yet that Matty was so excited for that he made sure to invite you, personally, three times. 

Not that George doesn’t want you there, he actually really loves it when you cheer on him (and the rest of the band but he’s allowed to indulge in his daydreams a bit) but today it feels like just one more thing that might set him off. Just one more, really important person he could mess up in front of.

‘Everything alright?’ you ask again, hand on his shoulder and urging him to look at you which he simply cannot. He knows what you will see is someone on the brink of losing it. ‘George…talk to me.’

It’s the way you say his name that makes him swallow roughly. ‘’m sorry,’ he mumbles, ‘just a bit nervous.’ He tries his best to give you a reassuring smile but the most he can manage is a shaky and wobbly grimace. ‘We’ve never played a venue this big before. I don’t know why the rest of them aren’t shitting themselves right now.’ 

‘That’s not the case, love,’ you try to reassure but he’s not listening to anything right now. He hasn’t even registered the term of endearment. Instead, he feels himself grow more and more agitated with each passing second. His knee bounces in place, his fingers fidget with one of his bracelets and he tries to control the urge to just scream out loud. 

He’s still going on and on about the setlist change and how he’s not sure of his setup and how he’s going to mess up which is going to make Matty mess up which is going to turn the concert into a shitshow when you move to kneel down in front of him and grab his face in your hands. And that instantly stops him mid-spiral. 

‘Shut up for one second, will you?’ you ask sternly but your hold on his face is gentle. 

‘Make me?’ 

He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. What the fuck was his plan with that one? It’s not like you’re going to kiss him senseless and make him forget about everything for just one moment. This isn’t a movie. 

And the way your eyes go wide and your breathing gets uneven is proof of that. 

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles quickly and stands up to put some distance between you, ‘sorry, don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean it like that.’ He speaks in a rush, scared that he might have made things awkward. But you simply shake your head and make your way to him. 

The clock is ticking. They are supposed to be on stage in ten minutes. Adam cracks a joke that makes the rest of them laugh and George paces a bit more. It’s not like him to feel this nervous. Maybe he’s just having a bad trip, a bad day. 

The sound of the crowd does nothing to hype him up. Instead, it only serves as a reminder of what’s at stake. 

‘George shut up and listen to me,’ you take his face between your palms again. ‘You have done this dozens of time before. You made these songs, love. They are a part of you. You’re not going to mess up. Matty, Ross and Adam are not going to mess up. And these,’ you lightly tap on the IEMs hanging around his neck, ‘there are people to give you your cues.’ 

You’re right, he’s nodding along because he knows you’re right. 

‘Can I hug you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘do you think it would help?’

And maybe that’s just what he needs right now. A hug from his favourite person in the world. So he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your comforting scent washes over him, something he’s more aware of than his whole body. For a second he can simply let himself imagine that this is his life. That when you step back, he will tell you how lucky he’s to have you, that he loves you and you will say it back. 

Instead, he hears Adam calling for him to come over.

‘Thank you,’ he smiles, actually manages to do it this time. ‘Thanks, I feel a bit better.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you grin up at him. ‘You’re going to be amazing! And the ladies are going to go wild for you. Besides, I’ll be here cheering for you. That’s what friends are for.’

Friends. Yeah. He would have thought that time would dull the sting that word brings but that's clearly not the case. 

‘Good luck, okay?’ you whisper, get on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your lips are soft, warm. So close to his mouth that he simply stops functioning for a second. 

‘Come on, mate, now!’ Ross shouts. It really is showtime but how is he supposed to step away?

It’s only when you step back to go to the others and give them all a good-luck hug that he gathers himself. 

Just like you said, the show goes great. It’s actually flawless, garners rave reviews. The next day there’s a semi-viral photo of him with a lipstick smudge on his cheek. People online tease and speculate. And he simply wishes he could go back in time and finish what you started.

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

George giggles slightly at the look on your face. The boyish sound is so at odds with the rockstar persona he’s got going on at the moment. You, on the other hand, can’t quite believe your eyes. 

The world around you is bathed in golden light. There’s a blue blanket on the rooftop and not just that, there’s a whole picnic basket on the rooftop. There are bottles of pop and alcohol, and weed, of course, weed. Because where there’s George, there’s always some amount (usually large amounts) of weed. 

‘What is this?’ you ask incredulously; a tone of surprise and elation coats your voice and he feels a little pang in his chest. 

‘Surprise?’ he opens his arms wide like an enthusiastic talk-show host. ‘You didn’t think we wouldn’t find out about the promotion, did you?’

George beams as the realisation hits you. Just because he doesn’t work a conventional job doesn’t mean he’s completely oblivious to the hard work that goes into it. And he knows how much you have wanted this from the bottom of your heart. Although he would never admit to how he found out about it. He’s supposed to be a cool, aloof rockstar, he’s not supposed to be scrolling through the instagram page of a company to look at photos of you in your element. 

‘It’s not much,’ he admits sheepishly. 

But his breath gets knocked out of him when you launch yourself at him, tightly wrap your arms around his waist. ‘Shut up, it’s perfect!’ you laugh. ‘Thank you thank you thank you!’

He returns the hug and desperately tries not to let his face go beetroot red. 

The sun is just about to set. He checks the time, half an hour before everyone else is supposed to arrive. That’s the smallest bit of deceit he has let himself indulge in—telling everyone else the wrong time so he gets half an hour with you all alone. But he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it. 

‘And the others are coming too?’

‘They are,’ he confirms, ‘in a bit. I just got impatient.’

‘Shame,’ you shrug, ‘this could have been a perfect date.’

‘What?’ he stops breathing, almost certain that he misheard you. A small voice in his brain starts screaming and his breathing gets shakier. 

‘Yeah,’ you smile, completely unaware of the lightning that’s racing in his veins, ‘someday, some girl is going to be so lucky to have you.’

And just like that, he comes hurtling down. 

George wonders if it would be absolutely psychotic of him to grab you by the shoulders and shake you violently. He has never been as speechless in his life as he is right now because how in the world is he so hopelessly in love with an utter idiot?

How are you the smartest and the stupidest person he knows?

‘Oh,’ you sound a bit hesitant, ‘have I said something I shouldn’t have?’

He simply shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak right now and he doesn’t want to open his mouth and find out what comes out. 

‘Oh my god, there’s already someone, isn’t there?’ your eyes widen, you gasp as if you have connected the dots, solved the unsolvable cypher and George simply wonders if he should laugh or cry or throw himself off this fucking roof. 

Or pin you against the wall and kiss you till your lips are swollen. 

But that’s the exact moment his phone pings with a text. Saved and Damned by the bell. 

Matty and his girlfriend are almost here and his whole life is a fucking cosmic joke.

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

George has been mopey. There’s no other word for it. And he can tell that his friends are equal parts worried and fed up with him. 

Even now as he moodily sighs instead of doing actual work, he can feel Ross’s eyes on him. It’s not easy to hide shit from someone who’s essentially an extension of you; who knows your body language better than you do. So when Ross quietly offers him a cigarette and a chance to let it all out, he accepts gratefully. 

‘So all this for a girl then?’ his friend teases lightly once George is done unloading everything. 

It started out as a calm, collected discussion of his feelings. And then devolved into a rant about how he’s a coward for not being able to simply…confess. So the light teasing feels a bit like a jab. 

‘Yes,’ he replies curtly, ‘I’m pathetic. I know. Just say it.’

‘No, that’s not what…come on,’ Ross sighs. And it’s all well and good because George is not mad at him. Not really. 

He’s just annoyed, irritated, miffed, crabby, and yeah okay a little mad at himself. He feels like a pimply pre-teen who has no outlet for his angst apart from blasting out The Smiths in his bedroom. Which he might as well do at this point. 

‘And why haven’t you told her?’ 

It’s such a simple question. He almost wants to laugh at the obvious tone Ross asks it in. Why hasn’t he said anything yet…

Oh, maybe he’s terrified of messing things up?! What happens if you don't feel the same and then there are tensions between you and it would mess things up between Matty and his girlfriend because he met her through you. Also because George knows you two are like sisters. Or worse, he can’t say anything because what if you are already in love with someone else? And what if it’s one of his friends? What if—

‘Stop,’ Ross warns in a low voice. Maybe George’s panic is written very clearly on his face or maybe his friend just knows how to read him like a book. ‘What’s the worst that could happen if you told her, mate?’

And that’s a thought he does not want to entertain. Because there are a lot of possibilities; rational and irrational. So he simply hangs his head and takes another deep drag of the cigarette. 

They go back and forth; Ross tells him all the reasons why it’s a good idea and George comes up with a counterpoint for each one of them. This is a neverending debate, he knows it is because he’s had it with himself countless times before. In the end, however, he feels a little better. 

What if he simply started by asking you out for a coffee? Something that could easily be explained away as a friendly date. A coffee, a movie, a drink. Anything to spend time with you, to see if he has a shot. So George takes his keys out of his pocket and makes his way to his car. 

He’s almost pulling onto your street. His stomach is in knots, his mouth dry. He desperately wants to bounce his leg up and down but he’s driving so that’s out of the question. Your house stands out to him in the row of others and he scans the street to find some parking. A white car is parked in his usual spot in front of your house which makes him frown a bit but he doesn’t pay much attention to it; it’s not like he owns the spot. 

But then he sees you. In front of your door in a gorgeous black dress and a tall, handsome man next to you standing way too close than he should be. 

Too late George realises what’s happening. Too late he notices how you lean towards this man, how you smile up at him and place your hand on his bicep. The way your thumbs draw lazy circles on his arm that George thought was only reserved for him. Too late he realises what he’s going to see; the man bends down, you tilt your chin up and close the gap. 

For a second he’s sure he’s about the empty the contents of his stomach onto his lap. Fire burns through his veins; green and envious hellfire. So in a panicked daze, he floors the accelerator, pulls away and out of the street just as fast as he came in. 

He does not want to stay and find out if the other man is invited inside. 

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

George is in a foul mood. That, and he’s also terribly drunk; just one of two more pints shy of being stumbling, blackout drunk. 

It’s Adam’s birthday; a happy occasion. Everyone is a funny, cheerful drunk but he feels like he’s two seconds away from punching a hole in the nearest wall. Because you haven’t let go of that insipid man’s arm all evening. The same man that he saw outside your door all those weeks ago. 

Fucking Hayden and his pretentious drawl. He doesn’t understand what you see in that twat; someone as dazzling and gorgeous as you on the arm of one of the most insufferable people George has ever met. And the fact that he’s your date for the evening. That feels like a real kick in the nuts. 

If he could just take out his frustration by shutting himself in his studio and banging on his drums till his knuckles bled. But no, here he is. Stuck in a social situation. So when the chance comes to escape to the balcony for a quick smoke, he takes it. 

The night air does help a little to sober him up which is both good and bad. Good because he wants to be able to make clearheaded decisions. Bad because he simply wants to forget. 

‘You’ve been hiding,’ you announce as soon as you step onto the balcony. 

The sound of your voice startles him a little. And makes the vein in his forehead throb. 

‘Where’s your boytoy?’ he asks without turning around. It’s a bitter and lame statement but he can’t help himself, so he simply stares off into the distance and let his annoyance grow.

‘Don’t be like that… I only wanted to introduce my boyfriend to my friends.’

Boyfriend. He scoffs. That dimwit is nowhere near worthy of the title. 

‘And so you did,’ he speaks curtly, ‘he’s great, amazing, is that what you want me to say?’ Harold is—’

‘Hayden.’

‘Whatever.’

The silence stretches on. For a minute he’s sure you’ve left, that he’s alone on the balcony once again but then he hears your shaky breathing. A wave of fear passes through him; has he made you cry? Did he cross a line? He turns around, fully prepared to grovel and apologize and stops in his tracks. 

Your hands tremble at your sides, your lip is curled up and your eyes blaze in pure fury. He’s actually a bit scared of that look. He’s only seen it once before and he remembers what happened then, he never thought it would be directed at him. 

‘What the fuck is your problem, George? You haven’t even talked to him and you’re just going to form opinions? Based off of what, huh?!’ you seethe and step closer. 

‘Well, I heard both of you talking to Matty and Ross. You got along great, it was fantastic, happy?’ 

He hears the tone of his voice, he really does. It’s snippy and rude and bordering on cruel but the tether between his brain and his mouth seems to have snapped. Or washed away with the last glass of scotch. 

‘Are you even hearing yourself right now?’ you ask incredulously, eyes wide and throat bobbing. Because of course, his behaviour makes no sense. Because of course, you don’t actually know what his problem is.

He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. This is not what he should be doing right now, he should be pulling you close and whispering 101 reasons against your lips for why he’s better, why it’s him you should be with. Jealous, envious thoughts cloud his vision and his judgement. He’s no good to anyone right now. But his feet refuse to move. 

Even when you’re fuming at him, you are downright stunning. Clad in a pretty pink thing that brings out the flush in your cheeks. Right now it’s anger and alcohol but he hates to think that there are days when that clown is the reason why you blush and bite your lip. 

‘Go away,’ he states. He tries to make it sound as dismissive as possible, as rude as he can but it comes out weak and pathetic. 

‘You don’t tell me what to do,’ you huff, arms crossing in front of your chest. He doesn’t miss the way it deepens your cleavage and right in the middle of this fight, he wishes he could hitch up your dress and fuck you till the only thing you can remember is his name. ‘I’m serious.’

This has turned into a battle of wills. He was never prepared for it, and now he has no way out of it. So he takes a deep breath and picks the worst possible option. 

‘If you really care about my opinion then here you fucking go. I don’t like Hayden, I think he’s a pretentious little shit who’s only with you because he likes you as his arm candy. But you’re too blinded to see that right now.’ It scares him a little how calm he sounds but now that the words are out there, he can’t stop. ‘He looks at you like you’re a piece of meat that he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. He looks at you like you’re this…this thing.’ 

‘You’re being cruel, George’ your voice breaks on his name. He sees the damage his words have done but it’s better this way. 

The betrayal will sting, you would go home and cry to Hayden. He would comfort you, tell you that George is an asshole that you should stay away from. And you would stay away from him. George would nurse his broken heart, fuck around till he can’t feel his dick anymore and then, if he’s lucky, move on. 

‘Yeah, well,’ he shrugs casually, ‘you asked me what my problem was. My problem is that he’s too conceited to ever be a good fit for you and you’re too stupid to see it.’

The last syllable resonates between the two of you like a death knell. You take a shaky breath, blink back the tears. 

‘You’re a miserable asshole!’

George watches you turn around on your heels and walk away. He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. The fight hasn’t fully sunk in yet. But it will. And when it does, when the eventual regret comes, he would desperately wish he could go back in time and confess his real feelings. 

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

George is fucking miserable. 

It’s been two months since he’s spoken to you, or heard from you, or even seen you. Two months since the night of Adam’s birthday. All he’s done in these two months is get out of bed, work till he’s exhausted and then drink till he passes out. 

His friends are worried about him. He can tell from the way they exchange long glances with each other every time he’s in the room. He wonders if they know what happened, if you told them but he hasn’t asked. In part because he’s worried about what they might tell him, that you and your boyfriend are all loved up, maybe even moved in together. Fuck, you could have eloped with him by now and George wouldn’t know. 

So he takes another swig of his beer and focuses on whatever show’s playing on the TV. 

It’s almost 11 at night and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be. He’s pretty sure that the bottle in his hand is the last one, that there’s no more left in the fridge but he does have a lot of weed. Maybe that’s what he will do after. 

So when the bell rings abruptly he lets out a deep, irritated groan. 

It’s probably just one of his friends, here to shoot the shit because none of them have any concept of boundaries with each other anyway. Maybe if he just ignores it, they will go away. 

The bell rings again followed by some pounding on the door. 

He huffs and gets off the sofa. The pounding doesn’t stop until he yanks the door open hard enough to rip it off its hinges; ready to yell at whoever’s bothering him at this hour. But one look and his heart stops beating inside his chest. 

For a minute he wonders if all the exhaustion and alcohol and sleep deprivation has culminated into hallucinations. And then his heart breaks at the sight in front of him. 

You look small and miserable; raw, red eyes with tear stains running down your cheeks. Your mascara is smudged, there’s a layer of black under your eyes and your lip wobbles from the effort of keeping everything at bay. He opens his mouth and closes it again when you make a run for him and bury your face straight in his chest. 

His heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. How often has he wished that you would just show up at his doorstep and all will be forgiven? But this is not how he wanted it, not when something’s clearly causing you pain. 

‘Oh, my darling,’ he shushes slowly, a bit bewildered but more worried. Whatever buzz the alcohol had left, drains out of his body in an instant. ‘Let’s get you inside, love. Come on.’ 

It takes him a few moments to calm you down enough so he can steer you into the living room and onto the sofa. Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor, old cigarette butts in the ashtray that he never cleaned out but he’s not bothered by all that right now. Not when he has much bigger things to worry about. 

‘It’s alright, love, he speaks softly and rubs your back in slow, soothing circles, ‘it’s alright.’

The coil in his stomach tightens as panic threatens to take over. But he has to stay calm for you. Because you clearly need him right now and he’s not about to disappoint you again. 

You stay like that for five minutes, then ten. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t try to ask you questions before you’re ready to speak. If he has to hold and soothe you all night long then he’s happy to do so as long as he knows he can do something to help. 

‘You were right,’ you speak through tears, in a shaky voice that sounds hoarse. ‘You were so right and I was just too fucking stupid to see it.’

His words from months ago come back to haunt him. Not like he has stopped thinking about them. Sometimes, at night, they play in his head on a loop. 

‘No…no don’t say that,’ he holds you close and gently rocks back and forth, ‘never say that.’

He focuses on how you’re almost on his lap; face buried in his chest, hands fisted in his jumper. Your bodies fit together perfectly as if you’re two pieces of the same puzzle and if it weren’t for the fact that you are currently crying your eyes out, he would have died of pure fucking bliss. 

‘Hayden cheated on me,’ you whisper in a broken voice. 

He had suspected something like this but hearing it still fills him with white-hot fury. 

‘He cheated on me with my friend. And you know what the worst part is?’ you laugh bitterly, ‘the worst fucking part is that I’m more upset about losing a friend than losing a boyfriend.’

That makes him laugh despite himself. 

That’s my girl, he almost says but stops himself. Because you’re not his, are you? All his yearning won’t make it come true. 

‘Go on,’ you nudge him in the ribs, ‘say I told you so.’

He has to clear his throat before he speaks. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ 

For the first time that night, you finally look at him. ‘No, that’s not…well you were clearly right, so…’

‘I don’t care about being right,’ he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, ‘I care about you.’

And that’s as close he has ever come to confess his true feelings. And maybe that’s as close as he’ll ever get. 

You open your mouth and close it again, a bit too stunned to say anything. 

‘It’s his loss for letting go of someone like you.’ George speaks it like a fact; an irrefutable, universal fact. Because to him, it is. 

It takes him some courage to do it, but he slowly wipes away the mascara-stained tears off your face. All while he looks at you with a gentle, tender smile. His feelings don’t matter in this moment; if you need a friendly shoulder to cry on then that’s what he will be. A friend, a companion. 

You are quiet for a while, playing with a random loose thread of his jumper, deep in thought. You are still almost on his lap, still in his arms. And there’s warmth in his body like he has never felt before. 

‘What are you thinking?’ he asks, breaking the silence. 

‘Maybe I’m just hard to love, maybe that’s what it is.’

If the urge to deck Hayden wasn’t strong enough before, it’s almost uncontrollable now. The only thing that keeps him in place is the need to reassure you. To tell you how wrong you are. 

There’s a cacophony of thoughts in his head, several of them fighting to be said out loud all at once. He wants to curse out your asshole ex, he wants to tell you what a wonderful person you are, absolutely perfect. How you always make him smile wide, grin ear to ear and make his stomach flutter. How you deserve the whole world. 

Instead, what he says is, ‘you’re the easiest person to love. Trust me, I would know.’

And that’s how everything comes out. 

And that’s how you end up looking at him through wide, teary eyes with slightly parted lips. 

And that’s how he finally does what he has been dying to do for years.

Years later, when George will remember this night, your first kiss, he will always remember the salty taste of it, the feeling of your dry chapped lips on his, how you messily grabbed at each other, unable to get enough. Years later, he will still remember how despite the kiss not being picture-perfect, it was still the best thing he has ever experienced. Years later, he won’t remember what you were wearing that night, or what day it was or what time. He will only remember how his heart beat fast enough to almost leap out of his chest. 

But later isn’t here yet. 

And right now he only wants to lose himself in this moment, in catching up for all the months and years he has lost out of sheer cowardice.  

[yoshirage]

Body swap diaries: PETER’s CYOC

After months of training and studying, I stood there proudly with fellow agents and superiors in the lower levels of Area 51 awaiting for my first mission as a full fledge secret service agent. It was a grueling time to the point that out of 50 candidates, only 3 of us actually made it.

We hear a gruff raspy voice from the intercom. “Welcome new agents and congratulations. You all are now officially part of the secret service which; as you all know, deals with more covert missions regarding this country. So please meet up with your superiors to discuss your first mission.”

All of the agents dispersed and so did I, and made it to Mr. Carlson’s office. I open the door and see a half naked man with curly hair frantically trying to put his clothes on.

“Ahh dammit looks like i forgot to close that damn door again. Lock it for me will you Peter.” I locked the door behind and sat at one of the office chairs trying not to look and stare at my supervisor’s body. “Hahaha come on now Peter, don’t be so shy. This isn’t the first you’ve seen me in another body.” He was right, but the usual bodies he’s in are the bigger hairy daddy types.

“So i guess you took my advice huh”

“ yeah. Went with someone younger and chose this guy named Jon to take for my time off. Gotta say its a different feeling.” He flexes his arms.

“You look great sir”

“Hahaha thanks Peter. Now since you were the highest achieving agent we have, i decided to assign you as a personal guard for a past president. As may know, any two term US president that finishes their service gets assigned a lifetime agent to help with safety and security, and they are also enrolled with the ‘reincarnation program’ which…

“Gives the ex president and their partner, a choice to have their consciousness transferred to another person’s body.”

“Very good Peter!” He claps his hands “now of course they can opt out of it if they choose to, but we at least wanna give them a taste of it and see if its for them.”

“Isnt it too early for Mr Obama to be in this program?”

“Yes you’re right which is why I’m assigning you to George W bush.”

“Wait isnt there someone already assigned to Mr. Bush?”

“There was, but we are reassigning Gary to a much more… lets just covert mission.” I just nod my head knowing exactly what he means.

“Now Mr Bush has been living in his current body Bruno for almost a year in Brazil.”

“How about the real Bruno.”

“He’s living life as Mr. Bush. We programmed him to practically BE George Bush… memories and all” i nod my head. “ now Mr Bush has been alerted of the change in staff but I would like you to travel to Brazil and introduce yourself”

“No problem sir. Will do”

“I also gave the guys at the lab the Ok to swap you with someone else for this mission, of course you don’t have to.”

I thought about it for a short while and decided to swap. “ Thank you sir. I will go right now.”

“Sounds good. Here is a catalog of the guys that are available.”

I look over it and saw Jon’s body with the amount of $10,000 right by his name. “Damn! I cant believe this kid is getting paid $10,000 to swap bodies with an agent” i thought to myself.

“now if you’ll excuse me. I think its officially time for me to start my Time off.”

“Have fun sir and Ill see you when you get back.”

I leave his office and made my way towards the all the while looking at the catalog.

“Hey Peter!” I waved at Vinh “ Mr Carlson told me all about your mission. So have you thought about which body you want.”

I looked over the catalog one last time…. “This one” I said

(Which of these guys should Peter switch with. From top to bottom: Joey, Christian, Larry, Leon).

[ride-thedragon]

the person that you're going off at for saying that nettles wouldn't be the only black person did not say that bc of rhaena and baela we don't need more black people in the show. they were trying to reply to your point cause its you guys reducing nettles down to a representation token character.

We have plenty of black characters, so that can't be the reason we need Nettles?

That's not racist. It sounds like we have a quota to fill, but it's not racist.

Again, they go on to list the 'already black' characters we have so we shouldn't need Nettles.

Nettles place in the story still works if all Valyrians looked like Velayrons and are played by black actors. We can still question the world.

We reduce Nettles to her race alone?

In my original post responding to them, I distinctly sent three posts. One about how Nettles is meant to parallel Daenerys. One about how Nettles is Rhaenyra's character foil and one about how George uses her to subvert actual stereotypes used against black women specifically.

I don't think it's tokenism to say that as a black character, her story is important. I think the reason race is brought up so much is because she subverts very convention for black women in fantasy, even in asoiaf, there isn't a character like her.

Not even in my response did I reduce her to her race but it needs to be said that the Velaryons are not black characters who can subvert these tropes. Nettles is.

I'm not even calling the person racist but there is a clear issue. They are acting as though we have no reason to add Nettles when we have plenty, especially in a show where the black women play into a lot of stereotypes and tropes that Nettles' story inherently defies.

For the third time, I welcome everyone to my blog because I have recently reached 2000 posts (it's been two years, its probably more) and can say that at least 250 are about Nettles and why she matters. I've answered these questions before with a lot less condescension and more focus to the point. Hell, reach in these asks, and I'll link the post to these questions myself.

You all don't care about her character, nor do you care about Rhaena or Baela or whoever else you think will fill her place. You care about a ship that's doomed if they don't include Nettles because she defines their characters towards the end.

[f1crecs]

'Megaverse Monday - Week Eight

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

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did you know that this fandom has one of the highest percentages of a/b/o content? join us as we celebrate the fandom’s incredible omegaverse works every ’megaverse monday. 🤍

Charles/George/Max

nsfw: Let Me Go Home by anonymous | E | 23.5k

Charles wakes up in a different reality where everyone has a scent and he is something called an omega. Why I liked it: This fic is a perfect description of what I would imagine it being like to wake up in the omegaverse. Charles is understandably confused and seeing it all through his eyes is hilarious at the start but quickly turns more concering when diving in to the struggles Charles faces as the only omega in F1. The relationship between Lewis and Charles, with Lewis acting as the unofficial guide to omegaverse, is very sweet and it is impressive to see the author take a rare pair like charles/max/george and actually make it work.

“Look, I don’t know what Alex or George did to get you this upset, but I’m sure whatever it was, they didn’t really mean it. You know how alphas can get.” “ Alphas?! ” Charles yelled and Lando winced. “No, seriously, did you hit your head? What’s going on, Charles? Do you need me to call Pierre? Lewis? I can call Carlos or, or Yuki too if you need–” “Why would I need you to call any of them!?” Charles snapped, feeling himself start to panic. Why were they all acting like this? Why were George and Alex called alphas and he was called an omega? Why did the idea of that rankle at his nerves? Why did the thought of Lando calling any of those people actually bring him comfort? “Charles– I think– maybe you should sit down–” Lando said, a worried look on his face. “No! I’m fine! Don’t call anyone, just… just be quiet!” Charles yelled and ran his fingers through his hair, scratching at the base of his neck irritably. Lando stayed silent, though his phone was still in his hand, almost like a threat. Okay , Charles thought, this was real, and this was not a prank.

Logan/Oscar

nsfw: I'm talking opposite of soft (I'm talking wild, wild thoughts) by @madlovve | E | 2.1k

Logan is a newly signed alpha F1 driver with money to burn. Oscar is an OnlyFans streamer, omega and dom, who critiques and humilates alpha dick pics in a bored drawl. Logan discovers he really likes being humiliated by Oscar. Oscar's characterisation, at least his online persona as perceived by Logan, is so spot on here. He sounds almost bored as he makes his way through the freely submitted photos, and is far too creative to pick on their size. That understated way Oscar has of expressing himself is perfect for this sort of story.

“Everyone’s favorite, the January dick humiliation stream is also on Friday, and my submissions for it open tonight. For the low, low cost of €150, you can hear me tell you what you already know; That your dick isn’t satisfying and that your knot would leave me looking for someone better.” Oscar’s final pronouncement got Logan’s attention immediately.

Charles/Max

nsfw: we have to keep trying by @drivestraight | E | 12.6k

Max has been taking suppressants for years, to the point where it's become dangerous for him and he must experience a rut. Charles notices and takes care of him. Over the course of the narrative, partially told in flashbacks, we learn the reason why Max has been suppressing his ruts for so long. The mutual respect and affection between Charles and Max, even though they have not been a couple for years, is a shining example of how to write exes. Max is especially miserable, but he always respected Charles's decision and gave him his space. The reason for Charles's decision is revealed late in the story, and the entire perspective shifts. This story really benefits from repeat readings (as I just discovered when I re-read it for this review).

“You were the only one who knew that I was an omega,” Charles says, running a hand through his hair, screwing his eyes shut. “If I was to—get over you. I couldn’t let you have that. I just couldn’t. And the alphas I dated. I couldn’t let you be the only one who— I had to—I had to get over you somehow.”

Esteban/Fernando

nsfw: Ambiramus by @estiebestieban | E | 91.5k (wip)

AU, historical fantasy setting. Omega Esteban's father has sent him off to be married to an alpha he has never met (Max Verstappen). His escort on the long journey is an alpha named Fernando Alonso. What I liked about it: This fic hits a lot of my favourite romance tropes including bodyguard trope, and it also really interrogates the social position of omegas, especially high society ones like Esteban and the stifling constraints on their freedom, including reproductive freedom. The supporting cast of other drivers is fantastic, including secondary pairings Yuki/Pierre and Valtteri/Guanyu (that last pairing has turned out to be a runaway favourite among fans of the fic.

The liquid inside these is coloured green. Green, like the shade of moss in autumn. It does not bubble when Yuki shakes them, but the light hitting them through the cracks of the carriage makes it seem as if the potion inside is crafted from jewels themselves. “What purpose have these?” Esteban asks, and he takes them from Yuki’s hands with a soft smile. Yuki once more stares out of the window, as if he is done with the conversation, as if he has no more words to speak between the pair of them. “They are made for Omegas to take, especially Omegas such as yourself. A sip before you lay with any Alpha, just a sip, do not be greedy, and you will not fall pregnant with his pup.” Yuki said. There’s a smile which seems to tug on the corners of Yuki's mouth, even when his eyes are still fixated on the world passing them by. “What you would ask for is strength, but you do not need such a thing, for you have that enough. What you need is the ability to control your own faith. Even the most powerful witch cannot re-write the stars, but this should suffice for you.” Esteban is silent. Stunned as he looks at the vials in his hands one final time before he tucks them away in the satchel he had borrowed from Fernando. “Thank you.” he whispers finally, taking no note of the breaking of his own voice. Yuki shrugs, a mischievous smile now blooming on his features. “It was what you needed, and that is exactly what I provided.”

thank you to @lydia-petze and @frickinsweet for compiling this week's list 🤍

[brucewaynehater101]

ONE DAY YOUR SPECIAL DEATH WILL BIRTH A GOD OF SPIDERS. I AM A HAMMER.

Alaska has passed a law stating that a building could not be haunted by more than 114 ghosts at a time. It's a safety precaution! If you have too many ghosts in one place it can cause the fabric of reality to deteriorate, leading to things like endless hallways, spontaneous floorplan changes, and the building itself becoming a living organism. These things (and more) are all very dangerous outcomes, so I can see why you'd want to restrict the amount of ghosts that can inhabit a building.

There's a fair number of obscure local laws that exist not because they're generally practical, but because there was that one guy (of any gender) who did something weird and/or aggravating but technically legal, so a new law had to be made to just to stop them. The mind reels at the sheer perseverance needed to cause a building to be haunted with "at least 115" ghosts, in a state with such a low population density to begin with. No metal objects near MRI machine. It makes the cow sad.

The very last thing on my mind was submitting it for the Kleiner Certificate Of Maximum Exposed Arse. Mrs. Weatherby found the baby jammed behind the mangle, skinless. Obama eats gravel and shits out mature trouts. Rattled? What a silly thing to be at this point. Clouds. Cloudy days are what's to be expected. No, I'm not here. I never was. At least that's how it is now. Still, it's a laugh, isn't it?

Eating SCP-682's arse with many pencils and the Monica Lewinsky cigar while George HW Bush throws broccoli at my head while saying "Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch". Can you hear it? The sound of the drums?

Special Death will come for us all.

A god of spiders? Spider-Man? I birth Spider God? Via death?

Wait... does the spider god entity come from part of me or does somehow, in a weird turn of events, I randomly spawn that being?

Anyways, I wonder how Danny Phantom will feel about the "114" ghosts in one building law. It'd be chill to get his expertise on that

As far as weird laws, there's one that makes it illegal to ride a horse on the second floor of the court house in one of the states. I personally fuck with the vibes of "if it's not against the rules, it's allowed." I'm a huge fan of malicious compliance.

Also, don't make the cow sad :( We can make it a rule or law so the cow doesn't get sad.

Apparently, mangle is a fnaf2 character? I wouldn't trust them around kids, tbh. Then again, don't know much fnaf lore.

It actually doesn't tend to be cloudy where I'm at. Only when it's going to rain (and we get max 10 inches [or 25.4 cm] a year here).

Tots vibing with the line of "No, I'm not here. I never was. At least that's how it is now. Still, it's a laugh, isn't it?" Gives the aura of me muttering "we're okay" over and over again with hysterical laughter ✌️

SCP-682 looks like this (obviously not my artwork y'all):

Good luck with eating its arse! I'm guessing the pencils and cigar are like utensils (though a cigar isn't that great to use for scooping, stabbing, or cutting).

What drum beat does special death use?

[toomuchracket]

maybe d word matty meeting girlies brothers/siblings? and they’re just teasing her and telling embarrassing stories he’s never heard. maybe it’s pre-relationship

omg yeah i wrote in passing that he first met your parents at your birthday drinks (pre-relationship), so it makes sense for him to meet your brothers there too lol. and matty's excited about meeting them in the lead-up to your birthday, almost as excited as he is about celebrating you - on the train after work a couple of weeks before your birthday, matty had asked what your plans were, and you were like "oh, i was just about to message the chat about it - i'm just doing drinks, if you lot are free and wanna come? it's no big deal if not, though, it's just a chill night. didn't wanna do anything massive", and matty was like "i will be there. idk about anyone else, but i'm always up for celebrating you". and you smiled all shyly and said "you're very sweet. warning, though, my parents and my little brothers are going, and the boys are ridiculously annoying. they'll try and embarrass me, so don't listen to a word they say"; matty laughed like "i didn't know you had little brothers. makes sense though, i s'pose, with how good you are at dealing with me and george's shite lol", and you winked like "oh, you two are a piece of cake compared to them. might have to seek you out for some solace on my birthday, matty, honestly", and matty was like "i wouldn't mind that at all, darling. any time". but matty's just so keen to learn as much as he can about you, especially you while you were growing up because he didn't know you then, so he's definitely keen to talk to your brothers.

matty's there when they arrive at the bar on your birthday, actually. he's there slightly earlier than he planned to be, just because A) he had to leave the house purely to stop stressing over his appearance for you lol, and B) he selfishly wanted to spend some time with you before it got busier and your attention was dragged elsewhere. it's only after matty's hugged you/said "you look beautiful, darling"/handed you your present (a bottle of champagne and a record you said you'd been trying to find for ages, a gift you said was far too generous but kissed his cheek gratefully for anyway)/met your parents and some of your friends/bought you a drink that your brothers appear, immediately lifting you into hugs and teasing you for how old you're getting (this makes matty laugh a lot). you introduce them to matty, and they're funny like "oh no way! nice to meet you. but also why the fuck are you here lol you're too cool to hang out with our sister. did she guilt-trip you into it? she was always quite good at that"; matty CACKLES while you're like "wow happy birthday to me huh. brb mum's waving me over. matty, ignore them, they're wankers" before you wink and walk away.

and matty's like "nah your sister's sound. i like her a lot. she's funny, too, i like spending time with her", and your youngest brother's like "tbf she's decent. she used to shout back at our parents to defend us if they told us off lol", to which matty's like "stop that's so cute"; your other brother nods and says "she bought me weed once too when she was 18", and matty's like "WHAT", and your brother nods like "yeah lmao she was all like 'fuck it. at least if i get it for you i know it'll be decent shit'. that was cool of her", and matty's like "jesus, i'll say". your other brother pipes up like "she did have a really uncool emo phase though" - matty's like "shut up did she actually? like proper emo?", and your brother's like "yeah, side fringe, eyeliner, black lipstick, used to sneak out to go to gigs and shit. total rebel. and yet she still managed to get into uni, somehow". matty's like "rebel? her? god, no wonder we're so close", and your eldest brother smiles like "it's kinda insane to me that you are, honestly. don't tell her this, because she actually will brutally murder me if she finds out i said, but she fancied you a little bit when she was like 17 lmao. like not totally insane levels of crushing, but she got all giggly one time you were on tv. was funny". naturally, this is the best thing matty's ever heard; he has to bite back a grin like "you're kidding. i thought she wasn't a big fan?", and your brother's like "of the band, maybe not, but of you? definitely. but like i said, please do not mention this to her or she'll kill me". you come back over at the end of that like "tell me what", and matty - although he so badly wants to bring up the actual truth - is like "your black lipstick era lol. and also, you buying weed??"; you facepalm and groan like "i can't fucking believe you know about that. tbf the emo thing is worse than the weed it's so cringe", and matty half-hugs you like "nahhhhhh i bet it was hot. and i had an emo phase too. oh! maybe you and i should go to like an emo night somewhere. we can pretend we're 17 lol". that latter bit is a loaded statement, but it pays off - you giggle and say "i'd actually like that. it was a nice age for me", and matty winks like "i'll bet". but yeah, needless to say, he has a lot of fun talking to your brothers lmfao <3

[paradoxcase]

Harrow the Ninth Pronunciation Guide

I keep coming back to that idea that he might have picked this name because of Caesar. It would be so funny if that was actually the case. Like, it would be like if in some future where the US had somehow ceased to exist, I don't know, conquered, destroyed, disestablished, whatever, only subject matter for historians now, etc. and some world leader was like, man, George Washington was really cool, I really admire that guy, I want everyone to think about George Washington when they hear my name. So I'm going to change my last name to George, because who else was there even who was named George? I bet this is exactly what the ancient Americans did to invoke this great man

But now I'm curious about how much of Earth's old cultural whatnot was still public knowledge 100 years after the Resurrection. Like, people don't seem to remember anything about that era anymore, but surely the people who were resurrected all knew about it, and I doubt all that knowledge just disappears in a generation. Did people know John's name back then, and its links to Christianity and at least that Gaius was a Roman name?

Ok, so, not really related to the pronunciation at all, but it occurs to me that we've now learned that Augustine and probably also Mercy and Gideon and their cavaliers would have been born on pre-Resurrection Earth and resurrected by John, since they are the founders of their Houses, right? And if supposedly all of the people who were resurrected spoke English, and English is still the operating language of the Nine Houses, they should have English names, right? Alfred is a perfectly traditional English name; Cristabel is not exactly traditional but perfectly believable as a name that someone would be given; Gideon, sure, biblical names never go out of fashion in the anglosphere, even the weird ones, for real I went to college with a guy named Cain; Augustine, well, Augustus has a fine tradition as a name, that seems like a believable variation on that. But are we meant to believe that there were English-speaking people on Earth before the Resurrection named Mercymorn and Pyrrha? I could buy Mercy by itself as a woman's name given by some incredibly religious Christians or something, but "Mercymorn" seems to be following the standard we have in these books of two part names like Harrowhark and Coronabeth and Jeannemary, which is not something that i think came from any Earth tradition. And I can't imagine anyone would have been named Pyrrha. Maybe her parents were Classics nerds, or something?

Augustine and Alfred were like quite possibly the very first people to ever have an arithmonym. How could there possibly have been any implications about any use of them at that point?

Honestly, I feel like it works much better as a reference to Pyrrhus, just in terms of names being significant in the context of the story, because of what happened to Gideon in the fight against Number Seven

It's kind of funny that she wrote a whole paragraph about this, but at no point did she actually define "dactylic enneameter" for anyone who didn't recognize the roots, as, presumably, a poetic meter where each verse consists of nine metric feet, which each consist of two unstressed syllables followed by a stressed one

This pronunciation makes me realize this is supposed to be apo + pneumatism. But the pneuma root is about movement of air. Is thanergy a force that only moves or exists or emanates/radiates due to the presence of air molecules, like sound? Is that why there is so little thanergy in space, and not just because there isn't a source of thanergy nearby? Light can obviously travel for huge distances from the source through space, because it doesn't rely on air molecules

I'm fairly certain that every other English word that derives from Greek meso- is pronounced either /mɛzoʊ/ or /mɛsoʊ/, so why is this one /misoʊ/?

[bloodgulchblog]

Okay okay okay okay. I will dump a list of thoughts and feelings here:

good god rvb get better jokes, a couple were still pretty good but woof. the "you guys are so predictable i could leave a prerecorded message" bit was incredibly stale and i felt like the zoom call joke went on for 15 years.

red team's interactions in the early part of this while sarge is still there are so rote, man.

yes caboose's voice is different, i was curious about how they were going to handle that. (there was a falling out with the old guy, i mostly just know he said some shit during the george floyd protests but looking it up it sounds like something had happened earlier and he'd been laid off in 2019.)

fascinated that sarge's death stuck, but i've always thought grif and simmons without sarge was interesting, so. why not. i feel like with red team especially here, the whole point is that life moves on? this is very much a "you grow up and move on from the things you loved when you were young" kind of story and sarge is one of the most big goofy cartoon parts of the show, so ending him and having grif and simmons figure out how to move on from him has meaning i guess. the older people who shaped your world inevitably pass out of it. not to give rvb too much credit, but hey.

poor tucker, but i still think maybe having an incredibly angsty unexplored subplot might be better than having to spend 2 seasons having all his character growth dissolved away in favor of absent father jokes and whatever the fuck all that shit was in 16

live commentary on the whole thing with red team acting like they were abandoning caboose and then coming back to help him:

also this:

simmons you poor nerd i'm sorry it took all the way to here to give you anything, wasn't expecting this to be a good season for simmons of all people but at least he got something.

THE REAL CURVEBALL WAS I NEVER EXPECTED THEM TO GET KATHLEEN ZUELCH TO REPRISE TEX EVER AGAIN, i was going to make a crack about how tex getting a better ending would've never been on my bingo card in a billion years but i'm actually not sure this counts because i never cared about chex enough to think about it that hard. raincheck.

tex protecting carolina is nothing but it's also everything.

i'm stupid and missed that doc was dead for a while holy shit that's actually really sad and on the one hand oof, but on the other hand i love really sad things. fuck.

restoration donut only coming back for one last stupid fucking gay joke in an aside vs season 17 centering donut and how he was always such a neglected character. hmm. hmmmmm. hmmmmmmmmm.

it's sad wash wasn't there more, but i really did love "wash throws himself off a cliff to intentionally injure himself and summon carolina instead of contacting her in a more normal way" for him.

and i love that if something bad happens to wash carolina will come down on whatever it is like a hammer from orbit. at the very least, it made me so happy to have it reinforced one last time how much those two mean to one another before the end. after everything i enjoy a moment of them being okay.

overall i do think the group splitting up in pieces feels better to me than them all living together in a big weird codependent cluster forever, it feels like a braver and more true ending, but it's one of those things where season 17 was so much better at thinking about the inner lives of a bunch of characters that it's hard for me to say this is clearly better without reservation in all areas. like, sometimes people matter to you intensely for a big chunk of your life but then you have to move on. and fuck, maybe that's not even forever, but i feel good about grif getting to finally go home and i feel good about grif and simmons saying goodbye to one another and trying to be normal about it. let them have some space from one another. they need space to decide who they are with this part of their lives being over.

nothing they did here can stop me from shipping that and i can very easily fanfic out an ending for them in my brain from this. i'm fine. i'm thriving.

POOR POOR TUCKER, please hug tucker, he has to be going through so much right now.

i wonder if locus, somewhere out there, feels like he dodged a bullet and doesn't know why. (i wish he'd had to deal with red team one last time)

idk i probably have more thoughts kicking around feel free to talk to me i've been so insane about this for so long it's my oldest brainrot-

[eemcintyre]

"Seawolf: The Pirate's Curse" (2005) review

Surprisingly, honestly... why did I enjoy this? I guess after a couple of major misses for me in the form of "The Kidnapping" and "Beyond Forgiveness", my expectations were appropriately low, but this one actually had some likable characters and humor, and that always manages to rope me in. I have a soft spot for fun, silly action fare like this bc of childhood shows like "The Greatest American Hero", I think.

So, the title never makes any sense... what was it supposed to mean? what curse?

First and foremost, I must say TIG is looking oh-so-very pretty and rugged here- the necklaces, the bandanas, the curly-q hair, the tank tops, the sweaty, the ARMMMSSSS 😩

Initially had absolutely no clue what was going on in the beginning; a bunch of people with weird ass outfits in the dark and I was just like please no don't let that be him in the damn fucking cape and eyepatch and o n e l e g; I was like he can't possibly have one leg the whole time, right?? 🤨

But yeah I was definitely experiencing the "dear God what did I get myself into, cheers to another awful mess" 🫡🥂

Why does half the audio sound dubbed (particularly everything that comes out of Rachel's mouth)? Also props to Rachel for being the most emotionally unaffected person ever bc her reactions were so disproportionately calm to what would happen if my bf was constantly disappearing overseas and totaled my gorgeous pink car

We're getting some very Max Parrish-type hooting and hollering up in here; a concise summary of Thorpe is that he's basically if Max had a boat and was an alcoholic instead of a drug addict

We get another hallmark of TIG's movies with a slew of incredibly cringe one-liners that elicit a physical reaction of pain from me, but for every few there was actually a genuinely funny one here and there, so I'll allow it this time...

The whole "I'm a pirate, my father was a pirate, etc." speech had me ROLLING and NOT IN THE WAY THE WRITERS INTENDED I THINK BC HUH??

When he met Helene in that random room full of paintings I was sure we were supposed to take it that the mission was smth art theft-related. but no she just has a passion for maximalist design ig.

Why does the camera get randomly shaky for no reason? Very avant-garde of them

Am I the only one who thinks that Carlos looks like a Walmart George Clooney? Someone else pls tell me I'm not insane

Always throws me off-guard but it's such fun to see TIG in an uncharacteristically light scene like the one where he's dancing in the parade and surrounded by the circle of dancers in the bar. At least he seemed like he was having a good time in this movie 🎉

Ramon and his lil book and the bar scene of Thorpe and Helene drunkenly arguing w each other and sitting on the side of the road was what really started to sell me

anD THEN HE FKIN DR A G S HER ASS 😂

Plus I cannot go without mentioning my appreciation for the way he was holding her knee 👀💕

Love how he spends the majority of this movie just dressed like someone's hot dad who works out, in his cargo shorts, tank top and goatee- oH WAIT IT'S BC HE IS A HOT DAD WHO WORKS OUT IN REAL LIFE

Love how Carlos and all the other villains are devoid of personality or motive except for ~money~, like "the Colonel" doesn't even have a name!!!

Was genuinely stressed that my boy was going to clock himself in the head when he was swinging that rope trying to scale that building

When Helene straight-up PUNCHED HER SISTER IN THE FACE like these ladies have some beef and I need to know where it stems from

This film is another great example of TIG's grossly underutilized comedic potential- a là the map reading scene

Hilarious how Carlos just shrugs like "I don't care, whatever I guess" when who he believes to be Marlena says she wants to say a dramatic goodbye to Thorpe

Ok but how did he not die?? Thank goodness but how??

Even more hilarious how the Colonel, who has had nothing but hatred and murderous intent for Thorpe throughout, is just so touched by Thorpe's being a ✨ big softie with morals ✨ that his vengeful compulsions are soothed and he's content with taking the gold like "hey bro, we're square now <3" and just fuckin walks away

Good on them for giving the treasure back to Mexico

Was legit concerned for too long there that they weren't actually going to end up together and I was screeching

DO THEY ACTUALLY USE THE SAME SHOT OF THE BOAT AT SUNSET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE AND AT THE END?? lmaooo

Honestly, I think they could have leaned even more into the humorous aspect and the treasure hunt part of the film; made it a bit more of a National Treasure/Indiana Jones sort of thing, and I definitely would have liked some more character development, esp. for the sidekicks and villains, but overall, I award this film an unexpected 6/10. I had a good time 🙃🩷

[this-is-mycrisis]

Lockwood Pays Attention

Summary: Some of Lockwood's observations on Lucy after seeing her with a migraine. Starring George still being an icon and Lockwood being an oblivious lovesick fool...

Word count: 753

Trigger warnings: migraine mention, symptoms of migraine/migraine triggers, brief food mention. Let me know if I missed anything

Let me know how you like it, likes and re-blogs apppreciated!

In the weeks following Lucy’s migraine, Lockwood was extra observant and attentive. He thought he was being subtle. And while Lucy didn’t notice, George certainly did. If there was one thing Anthony Lockwood didn’t do well it was subtlety, which meant that Lucy was just as oblivious to the mutual feelings between the two. It wasn’t that Lockwood was hovering over her, but he checked in on her more often than usual, he always made sure to ask if she’d had enough during meal times, if she seemed spacey he asked if she needed to take a break. George wouldn’t deny being more affectionate with her either, in his own way, but it was nothing compared to Lockwood. 

Good god George just wanted them to kiss and be done with it already. Mostly so Lockwood would stop hovering over his shoulder whenever he cooked. 

“Would you knock it off? There is nothing wrong with my food!” George had spent the last few days batting the taller boy away from whatever pot was simmering on the stove and he was getting very tired of it. “Its my nan’s recipe and if you ruin it I won’t cook for you ever again-” “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it, I’m just curious if the amount of salt might give Luce a headache.”

George let his head flop back dramatically. That’s what this is all about. “Well, for your information, Lucy happened to tell me that salt actually helps.” At that Lockwood whipped around, looking mildly offended, which didn’t make Geroge want to laugh at all. Nope, not one bit. “What? Why did she tell you and not me?” 

“Because I asked if there was anything I could do to help or that I needed to change, since I’m the one who does the cooking. She said she likes salt and that it helps a headache before it’s a migraine and she asked if there was any cleaning agents that weren’t as smelly, because sometimes that alone is enough to give her one. And you are itching to write this down aren’t you?” 

At least Lockwood had the decency to look taken aback by the accusation, but in reality yes, he did want to write it down. He had a little list going in a small notebook he kept on him of things he had noticed about Lucy’s headaches since the big one he and George had helped her through. He spent so much time looking at the list that he could visualize it without having to try hard; so far the list went a little something like this:

Sound- earplugs??

-sudden noises

-highpitched noises; screaming visitors are the worst

Too much sleep- lucy is nocturnal, survives on naps Cold- get a heater for her room; the cold makes her tense up

Peppermint? Potential allergy

And soon he would be adding a new page with things that could help Lucy, like tea and other hot drinks, salt apparently, and caffeine. The girl drank so much caffeine that it was almost cause for concern. Instead of telling all of this to George, who would undoubtedly poke fun and tell him that he was in love with Lucy, which he wasn’t- 

Not that there was anything wrong with someone being in love with Lucy, she was very lovable. And he did love her in the you’re my family and I would die for you unquestioningly kind of way; which now that he thought about it could be misconstrued in a romantic sense, but he would also die for George without a second thought if it came down to it. Though he did put extra effort into making sure Lucy knew that he, and George, loved her. He wasn’t sure what happened before she came to London, but he knew enough to piece together that it wasn’t good and that she didn’t ever want to go back. And she seemed so starved for love, so sue him if he wanted to make sure she never felt that way when he had anything to say about it. Oh god. He did love Lucy. And he had been quiet for far too long and George was looking at him funny. So he scoffed. “No. I don’t want too write it down. I’m just concerned because one of my agents is suffering and I want to make sure that I am adequately prepared to help when necessary.” George cocked an eyebrow at that. “Mmmhmm sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

[dellovestorant]

I can’t lie but I’m a little bit nervous of George’s future.

It seems like Kimi is in the seat nest to him next year, but Toto has also made no secret of his desire to get Max. I have no doubt he will be booted if he’s outperformed by Kimi, and Max wants the Mercedes seat.

On the other side, I hate how Mercedes have treated him. I hate for him to lose out but if they don’t trust him they need to let him go. So conflicted

Ok I'm going to start this answer with a PSA:

If you're going to come in my ask box to doubt George's future at Mercedes based on Toto Wolff's actions and words you are not going to like my answers very much.

If George ever leaves Mercedes it will be on his own terms, not Toto's. Toto also does not hold every single decision making power within the team. If he did, Lewis would've gotten whatever he wanted with his contract contrary to the cult's beliefs. The big 3 at Mercedes Benz hold more power over driver line-ups and everything else essentially than Toto ever will.

Below the cut is a whole deep dive into the dynamics that is the board of management and their decision making power if any of you want to read.

Let's start with the fact everyone knows for certain.

Mercedes F1 team is controlled by Mercedes Benz, Toto Wolff and Ineos. They each hold 33.3% of the shares in this company.

The current board of management for the f1 team consists 2 reps from all three of the above entities. Markus Schäfer, Michael Schiebe for MB, Johnny Ginns and Andy Currie for Ineos, Toto himself and Rene Berger (Toto's business partner). Oh and Carrie Donaghy as company secretary but she's not a major player.

Ineos tbh is kinda there to just pay the amount in salaries and other things Benz didn't want to pay for. They don't actually hold much weight in driver line up decisions and will probably go with the one that causes less chaos. Jim Radcliffe is also a tad bit more focused on football than F1 at the moment and who knows if Johnny Ginns even exists. They won't fight Benz or Toto on driver line-up decisions.

So technically, it means it's Benz vs Toto 50-50 you would think when it comes to massive decisions. Not really actually.

Without Mercedes, there is no Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula 1 team. Now you may ask why Mercedes Benz is delving into the business of Mercedes-AMG (you shouldn't it's pretty much common sense).

AMG is a wholly owned subsidiary of Benz. Their current CEO, Michael Schiebe, used to be the chief of staff to Ola Kallenius, CEO of Mercedes Benz. Schiebe also currently reports to Markus Schäfer. These names sound familiar? Schiebe and Schäfer are essentially the right and left hand men to Kallenius and the 3 of them make up the big 3 I was referring to earlier.

Now they'll give and take in negotiations, this isn't a dictatorship obviously but if Ola's set on something I have a feeling it's very hard to change his mind. And currently George is performing to a standard that would absolutely not give anyone really any ammunition to replace him.

He's also continuously being used by Mercedes Benz in certain promotional things and activities entirely outside of F1. That douyin account is a right indicater of that, the chinese GP next year will be telling that's for sure. That Targa Florio drive for the Bandini Trophy? The trophy is awarded for people's performances in motorsport in the past year. Lando won the 2023 version. Take a look at his season vs George's 2022 season and tell me who should've won the 2023 trophy. And then take a look at those two's 2023 season and tell me who should've won this year. The significance of George winning the trophy this year? It's the 100 year anniversary of Mercedes' Targa Florio win, it's 130 years of Mercedes in Motorsport and a whole bunch of anniversaries for Mercedes Benz as a company. An 18 year old is not going to generate what Mercedes Benz is doing with PR, at least not to the level George is. He might match George with the F1 team's social media activity but not Mercedes Benz. We're talking about the company that has had Roger Federer as an ambassador since 2008 and will continue to have him as an ambassador.

The board is also quite protective of George if you've noticed. They've let publications run their mouths about Kimi's testing results however they like until they started reporting the kid was beating George's times. Then Shov came out and said like 3 times testing times are not that representative. The whole email saga came out in Canada and who turns up in Barcelona for the very next race? Ola.

Schäfer and Britta Seeger (now she's a woman you just have to stan) were also in Monaco. You won't see Michael Schiebe at an F1 race anytime soon though that man is allergic to dealing with anything motorsport related in public yet they've just put him in charge of another racing company.

That recent post by Mercedes F1 with Ola appearing in Brackley and Brixworth? It could be entirely planned but considering what had just happened and the fact Ola has not being placed in center stage of Mercedes F1 socials in like ever, it's an interesting appearence to publicise for sure (why that man was talking batteries though to people at Brackley I do not know and frankly I doubt I would want to).

Like I said, if George is not at Mercedes anymore, it would be entirely at his discretion. Plus if he leaves, Redbull is going to be right there knocking on his door regardless of their junior drivers. Just take a look on how Christian Horner and Helmut Marko speaks on and of George.

Also why do people keeping thinking Kimi will get outperformed by George? Have some faith please guys.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Bertha x George ~ slowly kissing down the body

Closer to canon-era than I usually do, nsfw, and also on ao3.

She’s in a mood.

It really shouldn’t feel so daring to walk down the hallway in the night, but usually there is communication first, usually the negotiations of married life, not-

Bertha does occasionally enjoy playing by her own rules, and she is not handling this sudden wave of desire alone.

She slips into her husband’s bedroom effortlessly, candle placed safely out of reach, half an idea formed in her mind and the rest to follow and-

He is, at least, awake. Most of what she wants could be done regardless, but it is still helpful to be able to catch his eye and make him aware of her presence. If she moves so quietly, nothing is wrong; they do have their routines, and-

She perches on the edge of the bed and he moves to kiss her, and she turns her head at the last moment, and-

“I did think-“

“You know I do like your mouth,” she murmurs. “But I want control, if you’ll allow me.”

“Anything.”

It is always remarkably easy to get him on his back for her. She moves to straddle his waist and leans down to take the kisses she wants, fingers in his hair and she feels herself get warm and-

“If you’re going to… at least give me a view.”

She likes when he figures out what she’s doing. They do have certain patterns, and this is all familiar enough, and it is not difficult at all to remove her robe and nightgown before she does anything more, and-

He won’t touch her when she’s in this mood, they are too understood for that, but he’s looking, eyes so deep with desire, and she feels herself blush all the same. To be wanted so much, still, after so long together, after two children and the losses they do not speak of and-

She slowly moves lower, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing every bit of skin she exposes. All of this is hers, she reminds herself, everything only she gets to see and appreciate and-

“You are an awful tease.”

“Be very careful what you say next,” she replies, almost a laugh. “And even that doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

“As if anyone could complain about you wanting to ravish them.”

She undoes the last button and lets him deal with actually removing the garment while she feathers a line of kisses at his waistband, and oh why does her husband bother to sleep clothed, and-

Her hand slips lower and she feels how hard he is for her already. Perfect.

“We should… remove these too, while-“

He does look so good for her, perfectly exposed and as still as he ever is. She moves lower still, lingering kisses, the slightest use of her teeth near his hipbone and that will be a pretty mark and-

She runs a finger up the underside of his cock and feels him twitch for her, swollen and aching. She considers for a moment that she might not even need to use her mouth to get what she wants, that she could just apply the lightest touches of her fingertips until he spills for her, but-

No. She is a good wife, so much of her self-perception wrapped up in that description, and even she has limits.

She licks away the little bead of fluid at the tip and looks up at him at just the right moment, and he makes the prettiest desperate noise that she feels in her own core. Doing this now will deprive her other pleasures, but-

“Let me enjoy you, darling,” she murmurs, and then she takes him into her mouth.

They are suited for this, and she knows exactly what she does and does not like. She can take most of him and there is no reason to push herself further, and she hums and she feels how pleasantly he reacts. The rush of power she gets like this, to know that he is completely focused on her and-

They have their rules. He does not touch her while she moves like this, but when she glances up she sees the want of it, and she expects reciprocation and she will get it, and-

She knows what noises mean he’s close, and she bats her tongue until she feels him spill into her. She swallows instinctively and works through, and-

There is something delightful about moving her head away, taking a few deep breaths and looking at what she has done. She could just lie in his arms until he aches for her again, and she considers it, and-

“May I return the favor?”

“Please.”

He doesn’t tease as she does. They reassess positions, and if given a choice she much prefers this activity in her own bed with more pillows but she will certainly not voice any complaints now, not with her husband’s fingers parting her slit to make sure-

“I’m almost surprised you didn’t-“

“You always give me several releases anyways. The first will just be… easier.”

And it is. She loses track of everything but his head between her thighs, his mouth and tongue on her little bud, the marks her skin takes from his beard and the pleasure of it all and-

A wave, and then another, and she is one of the luckiest women in the world.

She lets him kiss her through a third – thorough, always – and kiss his way back up her body, more little marks beneath her breasts where she likes them and then the warmth of him shifting their positions so she’s mostly on top of him and-

“I do believe I owe you,” she murmurs.

“Perhaps in the morning.”

She doesn’t intend to wait that long, but…

[dib-thing-wannabe]

Okay, so I got thinking, and I was wondering about what if Co! Melvin was as to also end up with chemicals inside him (similar to how Co! George and Co! Harold did and gaining powers) soooo.. here's this:

What chemical would it be? : R.E. (Radiation Electric) because it fits Co! Melvin's personality and interests with what powers it would give him. Also, I don't like the idea of just having it be R.I. or R.F. again.

How'd it happen? : Unlike Co! George and Harold, who both fell into tubs of it on accident, Melvin would probably be dunked into it unwilling by the villain of the week.

His new powers? : He would be able to control electricity and some small electronics, and if it's storming, lightning as well. As R.E. is linked with happiness, if experiencing an extreme amount of happiness, sparks will quiet literally fly. Can be dangerous if around some metals and water. When dealing with extreme anger, he can control anything and everything electrical in 100 feet of him and will have electricity pulse through him, minimum volts being 100. He cannot die by anything involving electricity due to this.

Would he be a sidekick to Co! Captain Underpants like Co! George and Harold? : Simple answer, no, he will simply work alone in most cases. Dealing with them is already tiring as it is for him, so he can never imagine working with them during a dangerous time. Captain, George and Harold all already know how to work together as they all think similar to one another, unlike Melvin with any of them, so it would be less then ideal for everyone involved. Besides, having to save everyone every single week under Captain's guidance? No, that isn't going to do for Melvin. But if needed, he will help them out. Consider him as their backup incase things get difficult with a particular villain or someone else isn't available to help.

His superhero persona? : He, like Flaming Ink and Polar Painter, would wear a face mask that serves as a way to both hide his face and hide his voice, but unlike them, it wouldn't be a fabric mask, but instead a gas mask made of iron that has lightning bolts on it glowing yellow. Also, instead of his text looking like "This", his text when wearing the mask would look like "This", his voice sounding more high-pitched and erratic, occasionally sounding as if he's glitching out or buffering. He would wear lab goggles that serve as both eye protection and as glasses, an unbuttoned long lab coat, a golden yellow button up that's messly buttoned up and is only half tucked in, light grey dress pants, grey rubber gloves, and dark grey lab boots. His hair would also look messy. Why would he look so much messier than he actually is? Well, because it's not Melvin, it's his persona (basically it's a way to help further hide his identity). When he's in his persona, it's a way for him to just let out all his feelings and basically go ape-shit, so he will act very irrational (at least to anyone outside of the team and himself, as he already has a well thought out plan in his head and how he's gonna execute it) and often times more chaotic and playful then his friends, so I feel like he would name his superhero persona Lightning Maniac.

How would Co! George write Lightning Maniac into the comics? : Unlike Captain Underpants, Flaming Ink and Polar Painter, Lightning Maniac's backstory wouldn't be that he's an alien who came to earth for whatever reason, but more like a mad scientist that either used to be a test subject or experiments on himself (explanation as to why he has powers), and the reason that he doesn't always help them is that he's "too busy with his scientific experiments" to always be there for him, which is why he's only there during emergencies.