#does the name of the script remind you of someone?

[survivetoread]

𑘦𑘻𑘚𑘲 𑘩𑘲𑘢𑘲𑘭𑘰𑘙𑘲 𑘊𑘎 𑘀𑘝𑘲𑘫𑘧 𑘔𑘰𑘡 𑘎𑘡𑘪𑘿𑘮𑘨𑘿𑘘𑘨 𑘭𑘰𑘢𑘚𑘩𑘰.

(I found a very nice Marathi to Modi script converter)

𑘊𑘎𑘰 𑘪𑘺𑘎𑘩𑘿𑘢𑘲𑘎 𑘀𑘭𑘿𑘝𑘲𑘝𑘿𑘪𑘰𑘝 𑘦𑘨𑘰𑘙𑘲 𑘥𑘰𑘬𑘰 𑘀𑘫𑘲 𑘟𑘲𑘭𑘝 𑘀𑘭𑘝𑘲.

(In an alternate reality, the written Marathi language would have looked like this)

[5uptic]

.

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Alone

Blade & GN!Reader

A/N: can be read as romantic but it's so vague

-------

Your life has never been the exciting kind but at least it was safe. Ripped from your home and taken in by Elio was the last thing you expected when you rested your head to sleep. But here you are surrounded by criminals until the script is finished. And as you stay you notice a couple things:

Kafka is like a spider: beautiful and elegant but like a spider best observed from a distance rather than up close. Her fangs could pierce your skin at any moment for any reason and you'd be none the wiser.

So you keep your distance, keeping your interactions brief lest she bite.

Silver wolf is like a cat mostly despite her name. She does as she pleases when she pleases and very little gets in her way. She's sharp and playful in the way she does things.

You prefer interacting with her most, not minding her games even if you'll always lose them.

Blade on the other hand reminds you more of a wolf. A lone wolf to be exact...not exactly a good thing. Solitary due to lack of pack or out cast due to being a danger to the pack, you're not sure which applies here more.

But that doesn't stop you from gambling and interacting with him constantly.

Perhaps you're a nuisance to him but he doesn't push you away. He let's you ramble, talk about your silly trinkets and the games you've played without a word.

It's not unnerving like it is with Kafka, it feels moderately safe if you could apply the word "safe" to any of them. Though you know better than to stick around when his Mara flares.

But you stick around and slowly but surely this...whatever it is between you solidifies. Blade begins to seek you out, he watches your back when you're off on your little adventures, and he stays. He stays.

And it's nice.

To have someone or something be constant in your hectic life since you've been brought here is nice. Comforting is the last word you think anyone would associate with a Stellaron Hunter but Blade is.

And you stay by his side unknowing that you soothe his pain, and while he might not be at the point of wanting to stick around forever you make living more bearable. And that's enough for the both of you.

Until it isn't.

The day comes out of no where and so does the portal to your home world. The very thing you've been wishing for this entire time is finally in front of you but you hesitate and Blade watches. You don't want to go but you know you can't stay, this universe wasn't meant for you and you weren't meant for it.

But you want to stay, more than anything you want to stay... so you do. You leap into Blades arms burying your face into his chest sobbing as the portal closes, never to be opened again.

And it doesn't matter, though your heart aches because he's here. He'll always be here until the day he isn't and that's alright. At least now you both won't be alone.

[kenananamin]

Nanami watching a reality show

a very short list of hcs about nanami kento watching a reality show bc i was watching jersey shore, the hills, and sister wives and wondered what he would think about those shows and reality shows in general lol enjoy!

always avoided watching them bc gojo gave him enough drama and he did not want more

passes you the control and tells you to put whatever you'd like since he was gonna finish his report and read his newspaper for a bit

you put on a reality show, and he doesn't do it but he feels like groaning just from hearing the cast speak

he's a quarter of the way in one section of the newspaper when he hears some of the juiciest comebacks he has ever heard in his life

he doesn't lift his head the whole way but he watches the tv for a bit under his eyebrows

the thing is, nanami is a lowkey chismoso aka nosy

he skims through the rest of the newspaper and closes it and leans back w you to watch. you ask if he wants to change it and get ready to pass him the remote but he stops you and says to keep watching it bc he's getting up in a bit to make lunch anyways

does not get up to make lunch, y'all end up ordering in and nanami asks who each person is 10 times before finally (kinda) remembering names and understanding the dynamics

he'll shake his head and quietly mumble, "damn, that so messy" or "why would anyone in their right mind do that?"

is very shocked at half the things they do or say, but tries to hold in his laughter when someone says something ridiculous

quickly has nicknames for the cast and has his favorites

strongly dislikes the instigator and sits on the edge of the couch when someone stands up to them... but also looks forward to what the instigator does next

watches 90 day fiancé w you and grunts about the episode length but quietly watches... and enjoys

watches 90 day fiancé the other way and enjoys the way americans complain

can only watch a bit everyday and compares reality shows to medication, can only do so much at a time

will later ask which shows you've watched and looks them up when he's alone

will give you updates on the casts after looking them up on social media. "did you know she got married? i think they'll cover that in the next season?"

takes mental notes of contradictions and reminds you of these contradictions during the reunions

feels himself getting irrationally upset at some of these people and has to remind himself it might be scripted

will eventually ask if you'd like to watch a more wholesome reality show to balance out the dramatic ones

later falls into the hole of survival shows

gets a bit sulky if you watch the shows without him

hates to admit that he wants to get back home and watch one of these shows

quietly asks if you'd like to have a weekly reality show day w him where you can relax all day (or most of it at least) and have snacks, order in and just watch watch and comment on these shows

these end up being one of his favorite moments of the week w you, snuggling and enjoying brain rotting television

extras about certain shows:

prays that angelina is removed from the shore house, that sammi and ron separate for their own good, and mike gets the help he needs (is happy when it all happens except for when angelina comes back in the family vacation spin-off)

lowkey wants to rewatch the hills after the ending leaves him wondering how scripted the entire show was (you go back to explain the drama behind that and how it was mtv poking fun at it all)

has given up on trying to learn the names of the kids in sister wives. knows their faces, not their names. feels like he has personal beef with kody. wants to catch up on all recent drama.

[hetalimagines]

General headcanons for Alfred as a boyfriend (SFW)

Here's my first actual post on this blog, hehe... I can't find the ask but someone requested some Alfred headcanons, so here are my rambles about what I think he's like as a boyfriend!

He’s honestly not the most traditionally romantic person. Your relationship is more like friends who make out sometimes. But he does have his own little ways of showing you he loves you!

He’ll put together playlists of songs that remind him of you. They’re mostly loose connections, like maybe a song mentions your eye color, or the lyrics remind him of a date you went on together, or it just sounds romantic and makes him wanna kiss you. He likes to sit with you while you listen (to every single song), and he interrupts the songs a bit to explain why he chose them.

“This one had me thinking what if we were dancing in a ballroom together, and out of nowhere, bam! Zombies bust in. The door crashes to the ground! Our dance turns into one of those cool fighting scenes with the—oh, this part reminded me of the time I woke up early and you were about to fall off the bed. You had a cute bedhead.”

(You have no idea what the lyrics are at this point.)

Dates with him are pretty casual, more like “hanging out” than anything fancy. Maybe you stay at home and watch movies/play games, or you go out for dinner at a local diner, or you go do awful karaoke together, or you go and prank a friend together.

He’s happy as long as he’s with you. Bonus if there’s food and/or drink.

He occasionally takes you out to a more traditional restaurant and dresses for the occasion. They’re usually expensive, too. The food isn’t his preference (too complicated for his palate), but if it makes you happy, he’s all for dealing with it for just one night.

His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’s always doing what he can to help you out (and feel proud of himself in the process). Whether he helps you run errands, runs a bath for you ahead of time, or fluffs your pillow before you get in bed, it’s all because he wants to make your life easier!

He gets a little jealous if you ever spend time with your shared friends without him, or if you spend more time with others than him.

He’s so excited if you take interest in any of his hobbies. Movies? He’ll ask if you want to co-write a script with him. (He’s very relaxed about what exactly ends up in the script.) Archaeology? He has so many random facts to dump on you, and he’ll be super impressed by any knowledge you have on it. Conspiracy theories? Time to watch a bunch of documentaries! He enjoys them despite their flaws, but lets you know exactly when something is false and what actually happened.

He tries to take interest in your hobbies, too, even if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. It could be the most boring thing and he’d still listen and ask you questions about it. If it makes you happy, he wants to know all about it.

Pet names from him consist of things like babe, dude (💀), honey, occasionally sweetie, (jokingly… mostly) prince or princess. It’s all over the place. He’ll call you honey and dude back-to-back sometimes.

He loves debating if you’re comfortable with it! But be warned, he gets very heated about certain topics. His sense of justice is important to him. Otherwise, he’s usually not serious about these debates and doesn’t care who wins.

He tries to keep things light and doesn’t usually let people see his more serious side. He’ll open up to you more over time, however. It’s really him letting a wall down and allowing himself to get closer to you.

Every now and then, he has days where he’s a lot quieter and calmer than usual. He just wants to relax, stay on the couch with you and watch movies or simply chat. Maybe a movie chattering in the background as he tells you about his childhood. He doesn’t try so hard to keep up this energetic, heroic persona.

He’s right back to normal the next day like nothing happened.

Likes to annoy you for fun. Not in a mean-spirited way. He just thinks your responses are cute and has poor impulse control. Poking your cheeks or ruffling your hair or playing an obnoxious song loudly on the stereo while he dances. But he’ll back off if you’re genuinely upset with him. He means no harm.

He loves if you’re willing to play along with whatever he gets up to. Maybe he’s decided he’s going to try and vacuum the whole house while doing a handstand on the vacuum. You can hold onto his legs to help him stay balanced.

This man is very impulsive and has a tendency to get himself hurt. Random bruises all over his body or a cut along his forearm. He bounces back easily, and doesn’t want to fuss over it, but he lowkey likes if you baby him about it. He’ll always say how it’s not a big deal and he can take it, but his heart does this little flutter when you show concern, and even more if you force him to take better care of himself.

He burns himself in the kitchen and you force him to run it under cold water. He’s swooning inside.

He likes to gossip about others, especially over breakfast. He can’t help it; he’s just nosy, and he always has an idea of what’s going on and how he can help out. Huge bonus if you gossip with him!

He loves to feed you, but the majority of the food he brings for you is burgers or tubs of ice cream. He likes to experiment with the burgers’ toppings and seasonings, but they’re all burgers nonetheless.

Every now and then, he does plan some big romantic endeavor. It’s like a surprise. You never know when it’s coming… You wake up one morning and find out he’s booked a week long cruise, your bedroom is filled with balloons, and there’s enough breakfast food on the table to feed an army.

He does this thing sometimes (often) where he swoops in and has to save you. A puddle on the ground? No need to fear! He picks you up and swiftly carries you over it. The safest place for you is in his arms. He’ll even lay down and let you use him as a bridge if you want.

A suspicious penny on the sidewalk? LOOK OUT, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB! Let HIM step on it before you get blown up!

He steps on it. Nothing happens. Better safe than sorry!

If you’re the more independent type, that won’t stop him from trying. He just wants to keep you safe and have you appreciate his efforts. Being disinterested or resistant will just make him try harder.

Says cheesy stuff like “happy wife, happy life” unironically. He’s also the type to use terrible pickup lines to flirt with you. Totally unaware of how bad they are until you start laughing.

He also doesn’t care that they’re bad. He’s just having fun.

Loves to give you his clothes to wear. Seriously. You want one of his hoodies? Try six of them.

You complain when one stops smelling like him so he puts it on, works out, then gives it back to you like :D! Fixed the problem!

He takes so many pictures of you guys. Videos, too. His phone storage is eaten up by it. His favorite thing is to take selfies together. Usually with some silly filter. Or an even sillier caption.

“me and the babe out shopping” and it’s a picture of you, holding a piece of fruit with the dog ears filter

He’s not the most physically affectionate, but he always gives you morning kisses and especially kisses before leaving the house. He also loves carrying you around (mostly bridal style) in his arms for no reason other than he can. A hand on your back, another on your thighs, your head pressed against his chest. He loves it.

He loves knowing you find him physically attractive! He worries sometimes about being too overweight, so any reassurance that you like his body helps. If you think he’s hot, and you’re hot yourself, that must mean he definitely is.

Has a tendency to call you hot, but he’ll call you other things if it makes you uncomfortable.

Occasionally brags about you and how lucky he is. Not as often as you might think. Though he gets oddly competitive if anyone acts like their partner is better than you and starts spouting whatever he can so everyone knows you’re the absolute best. No competition.

[missmeinyourbones]

TO LOVE IS TO BE LOVED (TOUYA x READER) 

part 6 of the series: to love is to…

"And what kind of madness is it, anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally unable of loving you back?

Are you sure—one would like to ask—that it cannot love you back?” 

- Bluets, Maggie Nelson

“We can’t keep doing this.”

The words are not new—to you or from him. Tonight, they cut through the silence that rocks you to sleep in the midnights of your bedroom.

Your phone read a blurry 2:41 AM when the familiar rhythmic knock on your window pulled you from your slumber. Touya crawled through the half-open sill with ease. No words were exchanged when he tracked his clunky boots across your home. Dirty and soiled with mud and guilt alike. 

The routine had unfolded as it usually does, seamlessly and like the back of your hand. Touya throws his shoes clumsily by your door and sits wordlessly as you pick and prod at the newer burns and cuts decorating his face. He doesn’t say anything when you reheat your dinner leftovers and put them on a plate in front of him. And you don't say anything when he goes to shower and you hear him emptying his stomach into the toilet. 

It's normal, it's your normal, and while it isn't ideal, it's him. You don't care how it is, you just care that it is. 

And now in bed, Touya utters ther recognizable words as he fights off sleep in a guilty haze. 

“We can’t keep doing this.”

After a moment of his words lingering in the open air, he feels your voice vibrate his side, “M’not having this conversation again. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t keep doing this to you,” he persists, voice devoid of any emotion though you know he feels anything but barren. 

With a sigh, your head is lifted from his side and finds its home resting on top of his torso. Your ear pressed against his stomach, you can hear his insides digesting what’s left inside of him. It's a bittersweet reminder that he’s alive; tangible and real according to all of your senses. 

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you gently remind him. 

“I’m ruining you,” he repeats the script he always finds himself reciting, “by letting you love me.”

When I know I’m gonna leave, he wants to scream. When I know I'm dying.

“Touya,” you breathe, and he winces. The name is new, to your lips and to his ears. “You don’t know anything,” your words seem to answer his thoughts.

“I know you probably deserve someone normal,” he spits out the word like it's venomous on his tongue. “Some bitch of a businessman with a 401k who can hold down the hot meal you make em’ without throwing it up.”

His eyes aren’t on you, but instead focus on the speckled drywall of your ceiling. He exhales and you watch the grey smoke slip from his mouth like a ghost, the cigarette in his hand held far away from you as he clicks the ash against your bed frame. 

“Deserve someone who doesn't show up at your window in the middle of the night all bloody and filthy. Someone who can at least pay you fuckin’ rent if they cant give you a place of their own.”

You hate the way he thinks about things. How he views this, the love for him you refuse to tuck beneath your pillow, as an exchange of goods or a favor you decide to spare him. 

You pluck the cigarette from his hand and press it against the edge of your window. Touya doesn't resist, but his eyes flicker to where the end of the stick glows red between your fingertips. 

“You’re always talking about what I deserve,” you note. “Have you ever wondered what I want?”

He pauses in thought.

“Don’t know why you’d want anything fuckin’ less than that when you—”

“I want,” you interrupt, “to love you, how I am right now.” 

Your hand finds his cheek and gently turns it to face you. 

“I want to hear you come in through the window on rainy nights and track your ugly boots through the hallway. And I want to clean up the mess the next morning. And I want to cook for you and watch you eat it because even though it’s short-lived, it still fills your stomach.” 

Touya feels the building of tears that can never come beneath his lashes as he watched your eyes scan his face with adoration. 

“Because it’s you, and it feels like you. And if this is how I’m able to get you, then I’ll take it ten times over.”

A kiss is placed on his lips; it tastes of ash and mint and love, and though he should know what the latter tastes like, he overwhelmingly does. 

“Because I want to,” you whisper with a smile, one that Touya can barely see through the dark but ignites him like the sun all the same. 

“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” he whispers into your mouth.

If anything, your smile grows. “Thank you.” 

Your head is returned to his chest with ease and he can’t help but scoff at the situation at hand. His hand finds refuge in your hair and its the softest thing he’s ever known. 

“There’s somethin’ seriously wrong with you.”

“Don’t care,” you retaliate with ease. He feels a kiss on the scarring of his chest before you speak up once more. 

“So just shut up,” kiss, “let me love you,’ kiss, “and go the fuck to sleep.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

The lack of light in the room doesn't seem as intimidating as it was a few moments ago. If anything, it feels comforting. Like a blanket that can shield his childish blush and contrary scowl. 

“And if you hate the window so much,” your hushed voice is the last thing Touya hears that night, “just use the spare key next time.”

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

-

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

-

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

-

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

I was replying to someone on my Sabolaw fic on AO3 and I casually mentioned the idea of professor!Sabo. More specifically, English Professor!Sabo. I'm debating about their ages but feel free to imagine whatever you want! Just note they're all of legal age! Sabo teaches 'Introduction to English Literature' in a huge lecture theatre. He does not care who's an officially registered student and who's just here to hang out. He welcomes anyone willing to listen! He speaks casually, because he realises that's the most efficient way of communicating to students—both literature and otherwise. That made him a very beloved professor.

He does this for several years part time, alongside his regular work as a journalist and book writer. He loves talking to students in one-on-one consultations. He thrives on active participation, both from students and his TAs. Yapping is just as important as breathing! On a rainy day, the most sleep-deprived, pinnacle of idgaf-ism, sloppily-dressed guy Sabo had ever seen, walked into his lecture theatre forty-five minutes early with a cup of coffee.

"Hello!" Sabo says brightly. He turned to Sabo and blushed slightly. "How can I help you?"

This individual, Trafalgar Law, is pursuing a masters in medical humanities and is a TA. As always, Sabo's friendly and promises to help Law in whatever way he can. That said, he felt that Law's kind of a prick. Law's sullen and seems to have no opinion on anything other than the weather. Still, Sabo pushed on.

On the first lecture of the semester, Sabo makes every TA introduce themselves with their specialties. Everyone generously shared about their research and why they're doing what they're doing.

When it's Law's turn, Sabo was genuinely surprised to hear that Law had nothing to say other than his name and the fact that he's interested in the 'multi-disciplinary nature of medical humanities'.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I studied medicine in my undergraduate years with a minor in literature," Law said. This was clearly not in Law's script. "I wanted to be a surgeon, but I got disillusioned for lack of a better word."

"How so?"

Law blushed. "When I was a child, doctors refused me treatment for a fatal illness because they've been misled to believe that it is contagious, despite multiple papers proving otherwise. I want to change that. I don't like how hospitals discriminate against patients."

Law was soft spoken but Sabo knew everyone could hear him even without a microphone. Sabo appreciated his efficiency. They were slightly behind, actually. That was alright, Sabo thought, Law could speak up throughout the semester!

Law did not speak up. On his own free will, anyway.

Sabo knew Law was one of the few people who paid attention to every word he said. He wanted to hear Law talk for longer than a single sentence. That made Sabo try something relatively new. He usually respected students' wishes to keep to themselves.

"In The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner features four eccentric narrators to tell us about the Compson family's fall from grace. Can anyone explain why he would do that?" Sabo waited. He knew that not many people would have read the novel in full.

"Law?" Sabo laughed when Law glared at him.

"I'm not sure, I never thought of that."

"Thirty seconds to think about it!"

Law spoke after thirty five seconds, "Having everyone be at least a little 'eccentric', as you put it, reminds us that mental illness manifests differently in different people."

Sabo nodded. The little shit clearly thought about it before.

"Well, doctor," Sabo loved how easily flustered Law got. "If they're unwell, how would you cure them?"

"They can't be cured," Law said decisively. "They're incurable to remind us that we are what we believe in. If you keep holding onto unhealthy principles, you'll end up traumatised and inarticulate. I think that's what Faulkner's trying to say."

Sabo found it cute that Law was still very clearly passionate about medicine despite being 'disillusioned'. He thanked Law for his answer and moved on. Despite Law glaring at him every time, Sabo still picked on him at least once every seminar.

On one hand, Sabo liked hearing Law speak and on the other hand, he thought Law's grumpy face was so dang cute.

The following year, on a similarly rainy day, Sabo found a pastry next to his briefcase and Law bowing slightly to greet him. To Sabo's surprise, Law was his TA again.

Law claimed it was because he needed the money, but Sabo knew Law liked him, if his nervous, somewhat embarrassed smile was anything to go by. At least, that was what Sabo thought since he was producing a similarly awkward smile. He thought a bespectacled Law was cute.

Things were better this time. Law stopped glaring whenever Sabo called on him and even indulged Sabo by speaking up first. He still spoke in less than five sentences, but Sabo realised Law was being efficient, rather than rude or shy. Again, Sabo thought Law was cute.

On the last day of the school term, Sabo ended the lecture early to let everyone go home to rush essays and study for exams. Just as he was packing up after answering a couple of last minute questions, he noticed Law walking up to him. That was new.

"Hi, Law! How may I help you?"

Law smiled. Sabo realised he had not seen Law smile at him before. "I'm finishing my masters paper soon and I'll graduate this summer."

"Congratulations!" Sabo was genuinely happy to hear that.

"Thank you for everything, Sabo," Law said. Law never addressed him by name before. He usually called Sabo, 'prof' or 'sir'. It was a nice touch, especially when he said it so warmly. Law gave him a piece of paper that was folded in half.

"What's this?"

"I wrote a question inside. You're not obliged to answer it, if you don't want to. It's quite personal and I understand if you're uncomfortable." Law stopped Sabo from opening it. "Not now. Maybe later today."

Sabo laughed. Students gave him anonymous questions before. "Sure! I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you for your help, Law! I enjoyed having you in class."

Sabo thought Law's bashful expression was particularly adorable. Law waved good bye and left. There was a good feeling left in the air.

Sabo was alone inside the lecture theatre. Not many people turned up today. It was warm and slightly humid outside. Sabo thought this would be a good time to have an impromptu picnic with his brothers. In that calm atmosphere, Sabo lightly peeled open Law's note, feeling oddly curious.

Sabo laughed out loud when he successfully deciphered Law's doctor handwriting.

"Would you go out with me?"

[nash-dara]

LONG LIVE

Grumpy x Sunshine

Modern College AU

Characters:

Bucky Barnes (Reader's nickname for him: Wolfie)

Reader (No YN just using Bucky's given nickname: Petal, Others: Bear)

Warning: swear words (LANGUAGE), consensual touching, oozing sexual tension, fluff, Bucky Barnes, comfort, Idiots in Love. Please remind me if I forgot something. Thank you!

Author's Note: Reader is female, hair is shoulder length and eyes are brown, height is 5'2, no other description other than that.

AN2: English is not my first language, this fic is not beta, beware.

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I didn't know that a simple ceremony would be this complicated. It's been weeks of this repeating marching and sitting and we are still practicing the same flow of the events—Well mostly, it's the fault of the host because they keep changing their script for the ceremony and pronouncing certain names or whatnot.

    

First of all, it's summer already and the weather is furiously bothering me and this place is a hot mess. Bunch of sweaty people, too much noise, and on top of that we just have this gigantic ceiling fan that barely gives air and it gives me a major flashback to the final destination, making me think that this sharp fan circling above our heads will suddenly fall and slash our heads.

    "Bear"

   "Bear!" I felt my whole head palpitate caused by the scream directed to me while a tug somewhere in my left sleeve. I turned and saw Wanda grinning, her face so close could see her pupils dilated.

    "What the hell—" holding my hand to my chest and the other to stabilize myself from the clutch of hers. "I keep calling you but your head is out in the space again"

    "Well you sure do got my attention now," shaking my head then smiled at her. "What's up, buttercup?" I took her hands and moved her beside me when I saw an instructor doing rounds to the student seating in our area to check if someone was doing any misbehavior.

    She keeps on moving beside me, so I ask her again...and again.

    "Wands, what is it?"

    "Oh right, yeah about what I came here for—do you still remember the student we sent to our neighboring country for the linguistic program"

   I turned to her and gave her a bored look, "Are you high, Wanda?—Not sure,  maybe we know those people we spent like 10 years of our lives and just gone for like 2 months, what do you think?" sarcasm laced in my voice. I still feel hurt that they won't be able to join us for our graduation because even though they just spent like 2 months there, the university that took them made a mandatory inclusion that their official graduation will be with their school and not here in this hellhole. Well, lucky for them they not only avoid experiencing this extreme heat however shitty for me because I really miss them—especially wolfie.

    "Don't get cranky, bear. I know you're still salty for it but what I'm about to say will take all your bad juju away" my eyebrows raise as she keeps smiling at me weirdly. "Uhuh, is it? Do tell?" I told her while moving back my attention to the stage in front of us.

    "Well, I think some dog really missed their home and flew back here" my neck hurt a bit as I looked into her quickly. "What the fuck?! For real?!"

    "Yeah, your wolfie is here, but please pretend that you don't know- it's supposed to be a surprise for you" she took my hands and caressed it.

    "—but I can't help but say it to cheer you up with all the drama you experience being the only one who does your thesis yet your groupmates can graduate with flying colors because they mooch off you like a damn leech and still get full credits included in 2 major courses and have full grades."

    Her voice is now getting loud and full of huff, I move a little closer to her and give her a nudge to keep her voice low because she doesn't need to say it anymore the whole batch in our program already knows what the situation as I can be seen few months ago, solely defending the thesis and on the verge of breakdown when the instructors called my groupmates to talk to them in front of the students that day asking for the reason why I'm the only one who did all the work when they assigned it as groupwork.

    "I still can't believe our instructors didn't allow you to drop them because it's not they are lazy they just don't have brain cells to use."

    "I know, I know—it's really fucked up but it's done, at least I'm still able to keep myself included in the High Honor Awardee"

    "At least?! you, girl, deserve to be seated here with us in Highest Honor Awardee", Tasha, as we call her, she's the girl called Nat from another class who I got close to a few months before wolfie left, she almost shouted after swearing one after another. I put my pointy finger in front of me signaling her to keep her voice down as I hear a brief grunt coming from one of the instructors monitoring walking past me.

    "It's not that I do not deserve to be there but I know I had moments that I wasn't able to perform well because of my fault too, maybe I got distracted, and with all the other stress and I shouldn't have put all the blame to them, okay?" I gave them a small smile to appease them for a bit.

    A loud echo coming from several taps on a microphone done by the host of the ceremony took all of our attention. The rehearsal begins again—and again. I keep singing the songs we are required to do, it's been 17 minutes but I feel I've just done it for an hour already, my throat is getting dry and scratchy added to the heat that even the fan beside our seats cannot even subdue with thousands of students cramp into this average size covered court. I groan and aggressively wave my hand towards me creating a little blow of air.

    Repeated pulls in my hair startled me and I quickly turned around to look for the impertinent creature who tried to mess with me. My hands prepared to hit their annoying ass when I heard a familiar voice, "Getting hot in their, petal?"

    His blue eyes, I often wonder why those blue eyes gave me this different comfort I've never had with someone. I tried my best to scour my brain and think how I managed to befriend him but all I can remember is during one of our group activities when we needed to shoot a video, I was the assigned writer and he was in the creatives, with all the tauntings, bickering, and jabs directed to each other something just blossom there—I think?

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

"Your mind has been wandering for like a millennium, are you imagining some crude scenes again from your smutty books?", I can feel his breathing closely into my face. I felt my cheeks heat and sneer at him.

"I'm not!"

"You did really enjoy those books I gave you, with all the vivid covers that match the insides of it, even the priest will blush and call for all the saints when they read the content of it

"Well, I didn't know you have a great taste when it comes to those books, especially with all the tension in it. I didn't think of you as someone who enjoys stories pulling the hair of someone they like and then kisses them after", my stomach grumbled before he could even bicker back. I felt my head being patted gently, unsure of what I just felt.

"Hey, Wanda just fix my hair" my lips immediately contorted into a pout. I look sideways to focus my attention on him more when an abrupt loud noise cuts in.

NEXT BATCH YOU CAN NOW ENTER THE COVERED COURT, THE REST WHO ARE HERE RIGHT NOW CAN TAKE A SHORT BREAK

Before I can even register what has been announced I am already being escorted into the exit and side of the covered court.

"Do you have food with you? I'm getting hungry and the line is already long when we get there. Lemme chat with Wanda or Nat, maybe they already found a seat in the cafeteria, or maybe they have gone outside and already bought something" I took m phone out of my pocket and started to construct my message using my notes before sending it to them.

"I still wonder why you do that, you know"

"What do you mean?"

"That, you often write messages into your notes first before sending them", his face is now close to the phone I'm holding as he leans towards me.

"Well, I do— I feel like it's more comfortable to write here first so before sending I can check first if there's something wrong and if there is I wouldn't have accidentally sent it even if my phone suddenly froze up or I just accidentally touch sent because there's no sent button here in notes. Like I can edit it first and construct a proper message and rethink it before sending." my eyes already left my phone while I was explaining it to him and now gazing at the hallway.

"Did you have fun while I was gone?", my attention drifted back to him and I saw him looking directly at my eyes with his blues for the second time.

"Fun you say, I just felt like I got beat up by a thousand men simultaneously with all the stress and pain I felt—", I look into his eyes before continuing "—although Nat introduced me to her friend back from her hometown, he's quite a charmer", we started to take a walk towards the small hut situated outside the library, taking a rest and the breeze coming from the tree soothes the extreme heat, while we were seating I thought of breaking the silence that surrounds us however Bucky beats me first, "Tell me more what happen while I was gone?"

I saw him getting food out of his sling bag with my favorite drink, my attention quickly drew back to the food presented to me before I could even hold my hand out, he waved it first in front of my face before drawing it back. Gaining my attention, he repeated himself, "What is it huh?"

I took a sigh and gave him a quipped smile, "Seriously? I mean Steve might have already told you everything, you've been in contact since you went to another country for an exchange student program, anything you wanna know he might have told you already"

"I mean I'm just curious what can happen as you see it through your eyes, you know Steve, he likes to censor a lot of things, our man can't even swear without blushing," he said while finally handing out the food he has been holding. Silence surrounds us again as I indulge myself with a deluxe treat. "Heyy, don't just eat the food I brought you, I missed your knucklehead you know and you are just acting like I just grown two heads and we don't know each other"

I took a bite before looking at him again, he nudged my arm while I continued to swing my feet as I ate, "Do you miss me, petal? Because I do"

He finally said the words I've been wanting to hear to come out from his mouth, "You really miss me? dude, don't know if you're kidding me right now" I glared at him, maybe he might still realize what have he done before I spilled all of it to him.

"I do, I really miss you, petal. Do you miss your wolfie?" I felt a gentle squeeze in my thighs.

"Let me think—" I put the food on the table in front of me and faced sideways to him, I put my fingers to my temple and acted like I was thinking.

I gave him a sweet smile before answering "I think—No" I said and picked up my food again to start to eat, before I could feel the savory taste of the cheeseburger he bought for me, I felt a cold hand touch my arm stopping me. My movements stalled and I quickly closed my mouth as I scrunched my nose for his insolence to stop me from eating a delicacy. Like who in their right mind would stop a woman and her food. He just went to another country and charmed multiple beautiful women and now he has this audacity, would I allow it—HECK NO.

"Hey! Don't roll your eyes on me" he took my food out of my hand and set it down himself. Now he's just asking for a beating.

"Why do you even want to hear my answer" before he could even answer I muttered in a scratchy voice abruptly "Heck, why are you even asking me that now, you didn't reply to my messages when I was trying to talk to you8 while you were there. You are busy parading yourself out of the country and you talk to our friends except me, so excuse me—you are getting on my nerves. One more interruption while I am eating, I will not think twice to swing my arm to your fucking face, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am" his voice laced with a smirk as I continued to glare at him. A few moments later after I finished eating and now just passing the time by looking at the other students walking back to the covered court. Bucky is now facing my back and his hands are now caressing my hair I can even feel how he twists each strand, braiding it, I think.

He knows how to make me weak, he brought me food and now he is braiding my hair just like before he left me, I will not be able to keep my facade if he continues acting like this. I know to myself that I need to be strong because parting with him is inevitable.

    "I just noticed something, my petal" he broke the silence as he continued to play with my hair, and I hummed asking him to continue. "—where did you hear that I'm parading myself out of the country? like do you— I mean are you jealous?"

    I can feel the chills that just run down my spine, "What do you mean jealous?! Of your knucklehead? Freaking NO" I quickly faced him and for the second time today I can see from his eyes flashes of thoughts running while still unable to comprehend what he was trying to say. Before he could even answer, I heard Wanda's loud voice telling us to go back inside and Sam's yelling to wait for him.

    "Let's continue this conversation later, okay petal?" when he didn't hear my answer he gave my hand a few tugs, "Yeah—okay" I whispered before Wanda whisked me away from him.

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AN: This would be double posted to my AO3 account, @nash_dara, should I continue and make a part 2 or we can just let our imagination end this? Thank you for reading, love lots!

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of JAVIER PEÑA'S dialogue/lines from the TV show NARCOS.

S3/E5 - MRO

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

What do you got for me?

Well, we knew it wasn’t gonna be easy. You gotta get creative. 

Look, I’ll see what I can do with the lockdown. I gotta go. I'm meeting with the new Minister of Defense. And Fiestl… you asked for this. Don’t forget that, ‘cause I know I won’t. 

__________________

(Narration) Colombia had recently elected a new president, a man named Ernesto Samper. Escobar’s hitters had tried to assassinate him in an earlier election. So he was no friend of the Narcos. And while he knew his country was tired of violence, he and his new staff, including Defense Minister Fernado Botero, were already in a tough spot. Politically, the surrender was ugly. But, they were willing to live with it. Gilberto’s arrest made that harder than planned, and they weren’t shy about saying it. 

__________________

Thank you, sir. Colonel Martinez deserves the credit. 

He should be. 

Understood. Though, I’m not sure murderers negotiating their own punishment qualifies as justice. 

No, of course not. 

You can trust my only agenda is to take down the Cali cartel. 

Sir, my team in Cali are operating under… severe restrictions. They need their independence. 

Thank you, sir. 

(In Spanish) Yes, sir. I’m on it. I’m working on a high level target. 

__________________

Any word on the location?

To give things a push. We’re running out of time. 

Stoddard… I want you to think about where you see your career in five years. Does having that conversation help or hurt your chances of getting there?

__________________

Oh, uh… Did I come over too fast? It’s tricky business starting a conversation. Not a lot of margin for error. 

Yeah. Javi. From Texas. You?

Oh. Strangers in a strange land. Well, I hope you don’t mind, I was, uh… I saw you sitting over here and you… reminded me of someone, someone from home. 

Just a lonely patriot. Anyway, I thought we could talk. 

No. I mean it. Just… Just talk. I heard people still do that sometimes. 

Happily?

What? I mean, come on. Your husband lets you brave the dangers of happy hour by yourself? 

Oh, can I guess? He’s… uh, an astronaut. Brain surgeon. 

Uh-huh. 

Oh, fuck. I thought I couldn’t like him any less. I mean…

So, what exotic destination could pull him away from… from all this?

Christina. 

You didn’t have to. 

Same way that I know your husband… isn’t in banking. My name’s Javier Peña. I work for the DEA. You want to sit back down, have a conversation?

Fuck. 

(In Spanish) The bill. 

__________________

Thanks for seeing me. 

You want to sit?

You may not see it this way yet, but I… I am here to help you. 

Gilberto Rodríguez is in jail. It won't be long before he has company. There’s a very small window for people like you and your husband to still be of any use to us. 

You’re running out of time. So if Franklin does care about you, then he’ll do what’s right. I mean, I don't know if the two of you are thinking about starting a family… 

Okay. You’re right. But I do know there is no future for you… in any version of how this plays out if he doesn’t help us. 

I have. 

That’s it. 

Think it over. But don’t take too long. 

__________________

Rewind.

Okay.

I think I might know where he is. 

__________________

Stoddard. Get this. According to the language guy at SLS, “dasha masha danki”... means “thank you very much” in Papiamento. 

Curaçao. 

Yeah, there’s a lot of fucking banks there. Here it is. 

Baoase Luxury Resort. Has an island villa you can rent. 

Call the Dutch Caribbean police in Willemstad. Ask them if they can confirm anyone staying under one of Franklin Juardo’s aliases. 

Not yet. But he’s there. Call them. 

__________________

Peña. 

I’m glad you called. Are you okay?

You have my word. 

You did? That’s good. 

He said that?

That’s fine. You take all the time you need. 

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Russingon Headcanon

Maedhros and Fingon’s relationship reads like a romance right? Regardless of whether you ship it their entire relationship is compromised of several romance plot lines rolled into one and is a textbook example of a romance. You have the families who hate each other keeping them apart, the opposite sides of the war thing, the hopeless quest to save their beloved from the enemy at all costs, succeeding against all odds because of the power of love and just so much more. You see where I’m going with all this right? It reads like the script to a Disney film.

So if someone with no prior knowledge of who these two people are were to hear this story they’d probably think it was a similar kind of story to Beren and Luthien. They wouldn’t really question that this was a romance. So what I’m saying is that there were probably men and dwarves who were told this story and heard it was an old elven story and interpreted it exactly like that. So I’d say it’s a reasonable assumption that at some point songs and stories started to crop up and became pretty popular ballads. I’d also say a lot of the time Maedhros was depicted as the damsel in distress. Make of that what you will.

So when the elves hear these songs they’d probably see these similarities right away. I feel like Turgon would get to the point where he’d have to screen all the songs played in his court beforehand to make sure there was no trace of his older brother in a romantic context even implied because it makes him so uncomfortable. He gets really flustered when anyone brings it up because YES he knows it’s common knowledge but he was trying very hard to recover from the image of walking in on them during his childhood and does not appreciate the reminder . Maglor would absolutely love it. He makes a point of playing the instrumentals of the more well known ones at formal events just to watch Maedhros turn gradually more red. He also sometimes changes the lyrics to contain as many innuendoes as possible and stresses their names in the ones where they’re mentioned. He’s the only person who’s ever dared to play one in the presence of both Maedhros and Fingon. He changes the music to one of the ballads every time they get too close to each other during the evening and everyone always turns to look for them when it comes on so they have to scramble to a respectable distance.

Celegorm and Curufin are absolutely in on this and Tyelko helps come up with some of the dirtier verses. Everyone collectively agrees to preserve the innocence of Amrod and Amras. Finrod is secretly teaching the men more and more romantic ones but escapes all the blame. He’s actually the person who introduced most of the ones with their names in them.

Maglor teaches Elrond and Elros all of them without telling them who they’re about. Maedhros is absolutely murderous when he hears the twins singing about him and Fingon but he doesn’t want to let the twins know the truth so he keeps his mouth shut. Many elves are absolutely horrified when they hear that these are an important part of Numenorean culture. He made Quenya one of their languages don’t tell me Elros wouldn’t find this hilarious. Imladris is one of the few elvish settlements where these songs are allowed because Elrond secretly enjoys stirring things up. He figured out what they were about when he was still a kid but he finds everyone’s expressions way too funny to call a stop to it and just plays innocent.

[kaiso-woo]

Hey...

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

PART 2 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 4.2k | Synopsis: After some time as long-distance friends, Chris surprises you by appearing at your Café - and he asks you out... with a little help.

Notes: FLUFF, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Barista!Chan, Fem!Reader

Here for a reading marathon? Head back to the start!

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Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NOT MENTIONED IN THIS PARTICULAR FIC

PART 2

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

-

(A/N: When writing is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)

You: “CHRISTOPHER!!”

Chris: “I have done absolutely nothing” Chris: “You have no right to be calling me that”

You: “What do you mean nothing you little shit?”

Chris: “Hey hey” Chris: “This name calling is undeserved”

You: “YOUR HAIR. IS ALMOST BLONDE.”

Chris: “Oh is it really? I didn’t notice”

You: “You’re actually annoying”

Chris: “Only for you~”

-

Your breath hitches suddenly, and you turn off your phone with a click, deciding that it would be irresponsible to try and respond after that. With a wide yawn, you drag yourself out of your bed and amble over to your window. The sun is only just beginning to rise, so even when you pull the blinds across, your room remains relatively gloomy. 

Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling, honestly. Café Studio has been as busy as always, regulars coming and going, newbies learning the ropes. This morning, there are more than a few late-night goers snoozing in various places, and you smile quietly to yourself, making a mental list of the warm drinks you’d make this morning. Harry loves his cappuccino’s, and Taleena could never go wrong with a chai. 

The only thing you do before heading downstairs to the café is wash your face in the bathroom to rid your eyes of sleep. The customers are aware of your policy. They accept your generosity in your pyjamas or they don’t stay at all. Carefully, you roll up the shutters, letting the early morning light filter into the café, hesitant to make too much noise and wake up your guests.

The coffee machine is, unfortunately a little loud, so you decide to wait for the first few customers to wake up before you begin to make their drinks. 

To kill time, you head out to the backyard, where a black Labrador puppy cracks open her eye, stretches, and prances over to you.

“Hey Harvs… heyyy Harvey baby, how was your sleep?” you ask excitedly, your voice pitched higher than usual. She jumps up onto her hind legs, resting on your knees with her tail wagging, tongue lolling eagerly.

“Your Mum’s gonna come pick you up soon. Oh I bet you miss her hey?”

You’re scratching her lovingly behind her ears when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

-

Chris: “Did you watch our performance?”

-

You can’t help the small smile that dances across your features. Someone’s fishing for praise.

-

You: “How else would I know that your hair IS ALMOST BLONDE”

Chris: “did we do okay?”

You: “Of course! You all did so well!”

Chris: “that’s a relief” Chris: “my voice cracked a few times haha”

You: “I know”

Chris: “it’s embarrassing”

You: “To you” You: “Trust me Chris, no one cares”

Chris: “I do”

You: “Except for you”

Chris: “you noticed?”

You: “Of course I did”

Chris: “then everyone else noticed too”

You: “I noticed because I knew you would notice”

Chris: “you must know me pretty well then”

You: “Only as well as I can through messages”

Chris: “all problems have a solution”

You: “HAH” You: “what?”

Chris: “Bin and Jisung want to know what you think about their rapping”

You: “They were amazing!” You: “Their outfits especially oh my gosh?”

Chris: “yeah I’m proud of them” Chris: “Jisung was nervous before we performed”

You: “Was he?” You: “Tell him I said he was fantastic!!”

Chris: “sure thing” Chris: “he’ll appreciate that”

-

You frown and scroll back up to your previous messages a little. Even though this man is a world away from you, his disappointment can distinctly be felt through the phone. You hadn’t complimented him yet, and although he’s happy to hear praise for his members, he deserves to hear praise for himself too.

-

You: “Oi Chris”

Chris: “Yeah?”

You: “You should wear pink more often”

-

Harvey scratches at your shoes, vying for your attention and you shove your phone back into your pocket, a little frantic about complimenting him. He should wear pink more often though, that was pure fact. 

You had been keeping up with their content over the past few months, eagerly liking photos and watching live streams, laughing along with them and giggling, like any Stay would do. The only difference this time, however, is that you could do all of this with Chris.

The first time he called you, it was out of the blue. At the time you had your phone by the coffee machine, and you were busy making James a mug, desperate to get him out of your café. The moment your phone started to ring, vibrating obnoxiously on the counter, you fell into auto-pilot mode. Usually when people call you while you’re working, you automatically place it on speaker so you can multitask.

Chris’ voice hesitantly calling out to you startled every fibre of being in your body. “Hey… you there?” he paused, waiting for a response, but your shocked state didn’t allow you to, “Bad timing? Sorry nevermind-”

“Wait wait wait wait- Chris?!” you dropped everything you were holding, completely forgetting about James’ coffee, and scrambled for your phone. “Chris?!”  “Yes. Chris.”

You had your phone to your ear now, and your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. “What’re you- sorry I was just surprised.” “Did you not see my Caller ID? Why are you surprised?” he laughed, the tinkling sound sending butterflies into your stomach.

“I didn’t. I just answered – but also you’ve never called me before…” You waved a dismissive hand towards James, basically telling him to get lost, and that you’d make his coffee in a second. He frowned, and his eyes became icy – being the stubborn, annoying, prick that he is, he sat down on the barstool.

“Who’s Chris?” he casually called, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring him.

It had turned out Chris just needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t directly related to Stray Kids. Everyone was nervous that day, he couldn’t talk to anyone around him without seeing the nerves in their eyes. It was just making him nervous. 

“You’ve got this Chris. What makes you think you won’t get the award?” you sigh, trying to reassure him as best as you could.

“Yeah well, it’s not just that. It’s our performance too. This could be big for us. This Western coverage could do wonders for Stray kids.”

From then on, calls kind of become a regularity. In the middle of the night, you’d wake to your phone ringing. He’d apologise profusely for waking you up, but he’d be so excited to tell you something that it doesn’t bother you. One time you face timed him, testing the waters. As soon as he answered, the first thing you heard was him whining about not wearing makeup, the first thing you saw was him hiding his face between his hands, sitting at his studio desk.

“Chris I literally don’t care. I’m face timing you because you have to meet Bailey.” Then you flipped the camera to show him the Royal King Charles Spaniel that you were babysitting today. His gasp of joy completely made your day.

“He looks like Berry!”

-

Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling honestly.

But if we’re talking about honesty here, as the days wore on your heart ached increasingly. Sometimes it would get to the point where you’d avoid Stray Kids content, just because it was painful to think about Chris being so close, yet so far away. You dearly wished… you had hugged him tighter before he left the first time he was here. The first, and last time – and you had no idea when or if he’d return. Even though he said he would…in his cheesy little notes. He’s never once mentioned it over a message or call, and you’ve never once dared to ask. Just being able to communicate with him was a gift in itself… 

What even are you two… anyways?

-

You find yourself wiping down the windows, making sure they’re squeaky clean, as customers bustle around your café. No one currently wants a coffee and no one has any requests with the library or anything, so you take the time to squeeze in a bit of regular cleaning. Just as you’re about to move onto the last set of windows, one of your customers, Ashley, comes bounding up to you.

“Hey there’s a phone ringing in your office,” she smiles, proud to be of help. You put your cleaning materials down onto the floor, and your forehead creases in exhaustion, “Just when I thought I’d be able to clean.”

“I think you should really hire an assistant, or employees in general. I have no idea how you manage to run this place yourself,” Ashley grins.

“Yes well… business isn’t too intense really. I’ve managed thus far,” you sigh and dust your hands off on your apron, then pause lost in thought. Hiring some others would be helpful, even if it costs you money, it’ll give you more time to just live a little.

“Do you have a job Ash?” you abruptly ask, and the girl shakes her head slowly, eyes widening in excitement, “Would you like to work here?”

“Oh- can I? When can I start?” she squeals, eagerly dashing forwards and scooping up the cleaning equipment you recently abandoned, “Can I start today?”

Ever so sweet. Ashley’s one of your favourites, even though she’s still in high school. 

“Um… I mean I have to sort out the legal requirements first so probably not until…” you halt as the expression on her face sullens, and change your mind, “If you really want to help out, you can start today. I’ll call it your induction, yeah?”

Ashley nods with glee and turns to clean. The phone has stopped ringing by this point, but you can just as easily call them back anyways.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Thankfully, the phone begins to ring again when you walk into the office, and you pick it up with a renewed gusto, “This is Café Studio! How may I help you today?”

“Uhh… does your animal daycare do cats?” someone mumbles, their accent startlingly British.

“Yes of course, when did you want to drop them off? Also did you say cat…s??” you query, scrummaging around for your bookings book and a pen.

“Yeah uh- my friend here. He has um. Three cats.”

You pause, and dimly wonder why his voice sounds familiar, and you also note that his English isn’t entirely English.

“All good. I’ll just need some other info… just the names of the cats, when you’d like them to stay… your name and a phone number, if possible?” you’re sitting there, anticipating his answer, but the other end has gone radio silent.

“Are… you still there…?” you cautiously probe, not wanting to be annoying.

“Soonie, Doongie and Dori.”

You slowly lower your pen to the table and sit up straighter, the familiar names registering in your brain. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the conversation on the other end of the line, but there’s whisperings and panicked discussion.

“What’re we supposed to do for the name? Are we allowed to say Minho?”

“Uh…I don’t know- just put Chan’s name, he’s probably there already anywa-”

This voice sticks out like a sore thumb, the low octave causing you to jolt in your chair.

“Shhhhhhhshshshhh,” the first-person hushes, but it’s too late.

“Felix?” you croak out, mouth going dry. British accent… British…

“Jisung?” The silence on the other end of the phone is profound, and somewhere else, presumably in the same room as Felix and Jisung, there are people laughing in the distance.

“Ah shit,” Jisung curses and the line dies.

You’re not even thinking straight as you throw the phone onto the desk and bolt out of the office, your spinning chair ricocheting away. What do you mean he’s probably there already? They’re messing with you. There is no way, what on earth would he be doing here, unannounced, when he’s got an entire schedule-

He’s here.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s there. He’s standing right there. Already busying himself with the coffee machine, muscle memory walking him through the timings, and the fiddling. A new black cap, perhaps a new black mask. A stylish leather jacket, a plain white shirt... but the same dark eyes, the same smile crinkles, the same brown curls.

He’s here.

You catch Ashley standing to the side hesitantly, obviously curious to know why some random stranger has just walked up to your coffee machine. She wasn’t a regular yet when Chris was around before. Ashley eyeballs you, then points slowly at Chris, trying to figure out what she should do.

“It’s… it’s okay Ash… he’s fine…” you murmur, voice a hoarse whisper.

Chris suddenly stops, and his hands slowly fall to his side. He swivels around and stares at you, eyes wide, as if wondering himself what he’s doing here. You gulp, heart threatening to abandon your body. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“Hey…” he mumbles, through the cloth of his mask, “how you doin’~”

Again, your brain is complete jelly right now, so it’s no surprise when your mouth fails to form coherent words. As if in a daze, you stagger over to him, your feet dragging on the floor.

“Y/N?” he hesitantly asks, when you continue to merely stare at him, mouth parted in shock, eyes shimmering with pent up emotions.

“How am- how am I doing? How am- can I give you a hug?” you blurt out, and you can visibly see the tension in Chris’ body evaporate. After a second of numb silence, he spreads his arms wide, “C’mere.”

You dash forwards and sneak your arms around his abdomen, slamming into him with a force that makes him stumble backwards with a little ‘oof’. Chris wraps his arms around you, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“How can you say that? How am I doing? You’re insufferable,” you whine into his shirt, and an unfamiliar sound of embarrassment escapes his throat. Carefully, he places his chin on your head, “It’s been a long while~ I didn’t know what to say, don’t tease me…” he cries, eliciting a string of giggles from you.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull yourself away from him and move to stand at your place by the coffee machine, picking up the grinders he’s abandoned so you can finish the order. 

“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, as Chris sidles up beside you to start the next order. The tips of his ears an adorable shade of pink, and your heart flutters when he turns slightly to face you and his sparkling eyes gaze into your own, crinkling at the corners to show he’s smiling wholeheartedly despite his mouth being hidden behind his mask.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” he chuckles back, reaching over to snag a takeaway coffee cup.

“Don’t respond to a question with a question!” You pout, clicking the portafilter into the grouphead of the coffee machine. The low hum of the coffee trickling out of the spouts begin as he leans over to whisper in your ears, “I’m here for you. I told you I’d be back didn’t I?” Chris presses the button to start the coffee on his end, placing his cup neatly underneath the spouts. Your coffee has finished pouring, and all it needs now is milk. Chris stares at you blankly, his eyes flickering to the coffee you’re supposed to be making, and then back to you. He’s frozen your brain though, and once he realises this, his ears turning pink again, he snatches your coffee cup from the machine and does the milk for you.

The coffee machine stops whirring, and regathering your wits, you grab his coffee cup, and begin to do the milk for it. You’ve switched orders now.

“You’re back for my hot chocolate aren’t you, you little liar.”

Chris clicks a lid on top of his coffee- your coffee? and places it down on the bench, “What can I say? You never told me what goes in it.”

You do the same, capping the takeaway coffee with a lid, “Okay come on, you can’t keep saying that. You’re practically a coffee connoisseur now. You can easily figure out how to make it yourself.” You grab both of the coffees and move around him checking the name on the order and preparing to call it out for the customer. It’s Ashley’s.

Chris sneaks up behind you and slides his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him again, “Mhmm… listen again, you never told me what goes in it.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, your brain working overtime to figure out precisely what he means. Truthfully, you know exactly what it means, but you’re refusing to admit it – at least your mind is, maybe not your body, because you can feel the tips of your ears burning.

“Are those mine?” Ashley wanders over, her intuition kicking in apparently. After she was instructed to leave Chris alone, she had gone back to cleaning the windows.

“Yeah- yes,” you breathe, wriggling to try and escape Chris’ grasp, “but why’d you order two?” 

Ashley gratefully accepts one of the coffees, blowing into the small hole to cool it down, “The other one is for you.” 

Your heart melts a little, and as Ashley takes a sip of her drink, Chris sneakily extricates the remaining coffee from your hand, pulls his mask down and takes a sip.

“Hey- Ash ordered that for me, not for you,” you swivel around and try to take it back off him, “you don’t even like coffee.”

Chris’ nose scrunches up in distaste after his sip, but he still refuses to give it back, holding it high above your head, “What’s yours is mine.” 

“Since uh- when?!” you retort, rolling your eyes at him and trying to yank his mask back up his face.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Ashley gasps, and Chris freezes. He immediately pulls his mask back up, and hands you back your coffee, “I know you!”

“No you don’t Ash,” you state at the same time Chris says, “Not surprised.”

You turn to stare at him in shock, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, “Are you a Stay then?” he quizzes, leaning forwards and pressing his hands on the countertop to prop himself up.

“Oh me? No not really. I haven’t had time to- she is though,” Ashley garbles, pointing at you unabashedly, “That’s how I know who you are. Remember?” she’s talking directly to you now, “You were playing one of their songs over the speakers a while back and I asked who they were.”

Oh. Yeah you remember now. Ashley had asked you about them, and because she genuinely seemed interested you lost your self a little in explaining who Stray Kids were.

“He’s your bias isn’t he? Bang Chan?”

“I’m your-” Chris starts, but you interject him swiftly, “Well duh,” then without sparing a glance towards him, you address Ashley, “We’re going to have to keep this quiet, yeah?”

She leans closer and whispers with a wink, “Oh yeah for sure. Can’t have all the Stay’s chasing you for dating Bang Chan, right?” 

Chris bursts out laughing, suddenly hiding his face in his hands, and you splutter uncontrollably, “I’m not- hang on- what gave you that impression- we’re just long-distance friends.”

Ashley sucks in air through her teeth and grabs her heart dramatically, “How does it feel Bang Chan? To be friend zoned?” 

Chris is laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing, desperately trying to breathe through his mask. 

“Oh- it hurts- I’m in so much pain- how could you?” he manages, clutching his own heart in his hands and pouting with his eyes at you. You step back from them both; Chris who’s still chuckling, and Ashley who’s smiling at you with a knowing look.

“What am I missing here?”

“I like this child. Keep her. Ashley right? Just call me Chan,” he’s finally stopped laughing, but his eyes are still glimmering with mirth.

“She’s keeping me alright. I work here now,” Ashley grins with pride, taking another sip of her coffee, “Anyway so… are you going to do it or do I have to do it for you?” 

Chris falls apart laughing again, leaning heavily on the bench to support himself. The pair of them seem to be on a completely different page to you, and you’re just standing there in confusion.

“Okay! Okay wow! This is… not how I was planning on doing it,” he wheezes, and Ashley sighs, impatient, “Who cares?!”

“Planning on doing what?! Someone help me out here, what is happening?!” You cry, face scrunched up in desperation, head flicking from one person to the other.

“Okay you,” Chris begins, flicking his head towards you, “Close the café tomorrow-”

“Or just leave it up to me,” Ashley chirps eagerly.

“-that works too. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement, a little thrown off by his assertion, and Ashley’s collaboration, “Where and why?”

Chris shrugs, “The beach, with food, and because I want to,” Ashley is nodding in the background, as if she knows this is exactly what he’d say, “I haven’t been in a while.”

“I’m poor. I can’t afford to buy food just for the beach,” you stubbornly state, mind trying to figure out if he was being genuine.

“It’s called a fucking date. Chan will pay for you,” Ashley snaps, and Chris nods vigorously, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you speak, “Oh-kay, you two get along too well. Your induction isn’t over yet Ash, get back to work.”

“Yes boss,” Ashley grins, skipping away with her coffee.

“She’s bright,” Chris chuckles, watching her leave, “This isn’t exactly how I was meant to ask you out but I think it worked out fine.”

He’s not even looking at you as he speaks, but when he registers your silence he turns towards you.

“Wait- you were being serious?” your mouth drops open in shock, and Chris shakes his head at you. He pushes himself off the counter and grabs your shoulders with a little shake.

“Yes. I was being serious. Go out with me tomorrow?” 

“What about- what about the rest of Stray Kids, where are they? Don’t you have things to-”

Chris squishes your cheeks playfully to shut you up, “I told you before. I’m here for you.” 

You squirm in his grasp but he holds you steadily, “That’s not the only reason though, surely.”

“Yes. It is. Everyone’s on a two-week holiday and it was a toss-up between whether we returned to our families or here,” Chris’ eyes stray from yours to the side of your face, and he carefully brushes a strand of hair back, “The Kids really loved your Café, and it only exists here.”

“You’re lying,” you breathe, eyes wide.

“I am not… so… how difficult would it be to close shop the day after tomorrow? They want to come over.” 

In his eyes, you can see a flicker of exhaustion. You can tell he’s not happy to have to inconvenience your business just so Stray Kids can visit in peace. It’s not an inconvenience at all though.

“Sure! Tomorrow can be Ashley’s first shift, and I’ll close shop the day after,” you grin, suddenly burrowing yourself into his arms and pulling him into a hug, hiding your happiness from the world.

He’s here.

-

On this first little date at the beach, where you had a picnic blanket and food set up, the rest of Stray Kids gate crashed halfway through. They ate half your food, picked you up by your wrists and ankles and threw you into the water. This shocked you to the core because… since when were you that friendly with one another? They seemed to welcome you to the family pretty quick.

Chris was laughing back at the picnic set up. And the Skz members gleefully pestered you for confirmation of whether Chris was your boyfriend. When you nodded, soaking wet, they sprinted back to him and crushed him in a mountain of hugs, teasing him and cooing him. 

Then, yelling over the top of one another, dragged Chris all the way down to the water where you still stood. He was laughing, putting up a bit of a fight but not really; he’d always be gentle with them. Once the members had managed to group everyone together, Jisung started chanting “Kiss! Kiss!” and the rest of the members joined in. Chris was hiding his face in his hands, making distressed noises, his ears burning bright red. 

You shook your head in disbelief at the members around you, and instead pulled Chris into a hug, which he reciprocated, burying his embarrassed face into your neck. There were whoops and cheers (and Jisung’s disappointed “awhhhhh”), and then you forcefully pushed Chris down into the water, a stupid grin on your face. He came up spluttering, shocked, and then dove for your ankles. You squealed and sprinted away, crash landing into Felix, who caught you, but stumbled and fell into the water too – and then suddenly, everyone was getting dragged under.

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-> PART 3 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 2 (And a Half) Check!

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

[junnopons]

a guide to writing your sp

Before we continue, I wanna remind everyone real quick that you don’t need a template to script. You don’t even need a script, subliminals, or whatever. This is just for people, including me, who want to script as their method and don’t know where to start. This doesn’t have to be used for scripting an sp specifically. Feel free to use this to script your ideal self or whatever your heart desires. Also, to answer some questions about manifesting a sp in general (feel free to skip this, as this is probably gonna be the longest part of the blog 😭)

Q) what point of view do I need to write my script in? A) there isn’t any specific rule for how you write your script, except the rules you give yourself. feel free to write it however you wish

Q) does this person need to be in my life currently in order for me to manifest them? A) not at all. whether you want to manifest your childhood bestie, a complete stranger you met only yesterday, or a rando that looks, acts, and feels just like your favorite fictional character. you are truly limitless in who and what you can manifest

Q) how long will it take? A) as long as you want! 1 day, 12 years, 38 hours, 3 minutes, whatever! It’s just like manifesting something smaller like food or a phone. Although, if you still have doubts about your manifestation coming to you at the time you want I’d recommend working on self concept or repeating affirmations. You don’t have to though, ofc

Q) what if my sp is taken/not interested/or something else? A) now, with the knowledge of this being a rather controversial topic in the community feel free to take my opinion with a grain of salt. I personally don’t like messing with people’s relationships or feelings for any sort of gain, so I’d take that situation as an opportunity to manifest an even better version of your sp. this way no one gets hurt in the situation and you and your past sp can live happily

Q) what if I’m manifesting a fictional character/someone like a fictional character? How will that work? A) now, see I can’t exactly tell you the specifics of how it works (because tbh I don’t really know the specifics,) but I like to think about manifesting a fictional sp in two ways. 1. There are about 8 billion people on this earth right now. One of those 8 billion people are bound to have exactly your requirements, no matter how detailed or how simple they are. 2. There are countless amounts of realities, and just like when you script for reality shifting when you manifest you are also technically shifting to a reality with your desires. So what makes manifesting an sp any different

Feel free to send asks about anything else concerning this topic, I’ll be very happy to answer. Although, please don’t be rude or spam. That’s such a vibe killer (and no one wants to be a vibe killer). And with that, let’s discuss the guide to writing your sp.

With writing an sp I like to imagine it as writing a wiki page of an official character (or writing an introduction to an original character of yours). The way you write it won’t make a difference, but I like writing mine with lots of details. Something like

name | age | sexuality | gender | zodiac | workplace/occupation | nationality | ethnicity | extra extra extra

Next comes the appearance part. Personally I like to make sure my appearance part is detailed to help with visualization. I also like to make my sps look somewhat close to known celebrities. That way when wanting to visualize them I can use various forms of media. For example, if you’re sp looks a lot like Felix form stray kids feel free to use edits of him to visualize. There are many ways of writing an sp’s physical description. Such as

“my sp looks like Felix from straykids with yuzuru hanyu’s body “ or “my sp has *very specific facial feature from one celebrity* with *another specific facial feature from another celebrity*” or simply write it like “my sp has brown dyed hair with emerald green eyes”

You can also leave this part blank like every other part of your script. The possibilities are endless.

Then, I like to go into the backstory and personality. I do it in the same group of paragraphs personally because I like to see how the backstory affects the person I’m writing about to make sure it’s pretty realistic. I like writing this part in 3rd person, but feel free to write it anyway you choose to. Also feel free to take this as seriously as you want to. For those, like me, who need a backstory idea or help with writing what characteristics your sp might have because of their experiences I recommend visiting the “one stop for writers” website.

After that, I like to get into one of the fun parts, my sp’s relationship with others. Whether it’s their relationship with their mother, the relationship with your friends, or the relationship with your family. Just don’t forget to write about yourself.

Personally I like writing my sp’s relationships something like this: “[Name] and their mother unfortunately do not get along that well, mainly due to *blah blah blah blah*” but ofc you can always make it less detailed too. Something like “Sp’s relationship with mother - neutral” will work just as good. Allow whatever’s up there to fill in the gaps for you

I don’t necessarily believe you have to script anything after that. I like adding more things such as personal style, how we meet, talents and skills, inspirations, etc,. But nothing on here or on the guide is mandatory. As long as you have a basic idea of how you want your sp to be you don’t need all of this. And so with that, I think it’s time for me to go. Do note that this blog with always be updated in case I find spelling mistakes or new information, but if you have any questions about this part or any part of the guide don’t be afraid to ask. With that, I’m logging off. Peace.

[quietwingsinthesky]

I completely agree with your post about 11 and how well Matt Smith embodies the exact necessary tone/expression for each beat of the script! I can't imagine someone else being able to bring to life that incarnation of the Doctor. Obviously 11's era and writing has its misgivings and flaws, but I still find a lot of joy rewatching those episodes, because you see this scared, lonely doctor who's still so enthusiastic and hopeful, even when the grief and rage gets to him. It's like seeing those emotions reflected in you, and a reminder that you'll feel that hope and appreciation for life/nature again, too. I think that emotional catharsis and sincerity is the heart of doctor who and what attracts us all to the show, to be given reminders that compassion and hope are a strength, not a weakness. Seeing his expression change during that part of The Doctor's Wife always, always moves me because of the kind of honor and awe that dawns on 11's face at his tardis using the exact words he uses to describe how he stole her. It's such beautiful, tender reciprocity between two beings that couldn't communicate their feelings in this way until right then 💜

yeah, couldn’t have worded it better myself if i tried.

i think i’ve said before that eleven is my least favorite doctor, but i need to make it clear that that doesn’t even come close to me disliking him, or even feeling neutral about him. he’s still incredible, like if we put these guys on a line from bad to amazing, all of them are so close to the amazing side that you’d have to zoom in to see the order. he’s just got the unfortunate fate of being in the weakest seasons of the show that i’ve seen so far, but if i was judging this solely off of the performance of the doctor himself? he’d be tied right there with david tennant, if not above him.

no matter the quality of the writing, matt smith is bringing his A game to the table. tennant’s performance before him has moments where his doctor is serious and cold, but he’s so generally affable that those moments sort of slide off to the sides. not that you forget about it, but that it feels like a lesser part of him. and matt smith’s performance follows that with a doctor who is silly and energetic and sweet, but I think he pulls off keeping the harder parts of the doctor to swallow in mind, the scary sides of his grief and anger. some of my favorite scenes for eleven are when he’s given the space to show the full range of the doctor. the two that really come to mind are obviously that moment in the doctor’s wife, and my other stand-out favorite, his scenes with river in angels in manhattan, where we watch him lash out at her when he’s scared and angry at the fact that it was her name on the book that’s fated his friends to be pulled from him, and then a scene later, he heals her wrist by sacrificing what little regeneration energy he has left, because he does love her, he does know he was wrong to let her be hurt, but he also doesn’t ask if he can do this to fix things beforehand and upsets her again.

it’s just such a delicate balance to pull off there to make that scene work, and he does it perfectly, brings across both how much potential he has as the doctor to hurt and to heal the people he loves. i think, in the hands of any other actor, i would find eleven really hard to watch, really unlikeable. but just like he manages to never let you forget those unbearably painful parts of the doctor’s personality, you also never doubt that, even when he lashes out at the people around him, he loves them so much. he’s just. you know. Going Through It.

(also, personal touch, i so love how physically affectionate he portrays the doctor to be. it’s a small touch that means the world to me. really pulls the whole thing together when you know this man is just jumping for an opportunity to hug and hold onto and kiss the people around him. rory getting a forehead kiss when the doctor sees him for the first time in months, my beloved, rotating that moment in my head forever.)

there’s just so much going on with him. he was a fantastic doctor. (hell, all the people that have gotten to play the doctor so far have been, in my eyes, which is astounding to me. just straight bangers the whole way through, i’m incredibly impressed by how much love and work you can see go into these performances.) i think if i rewatch his seasons again, knowing exactly what to expect this time around, i’ll enjoy them much more than i did the first time.

sorry for rambling on so long, but i just need it known how much i really do love eleven. i needed a bit to warm up to smith, i’ll admit, but he earned every last bit of praise i can give him.

[godparkjihyo1]

The Wo(man) who can’t be moved.

Park Jihyo x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Perhaps on another life, we would have embraced from dawn till dusk and shared kisses under the moonlight.

Maybe we could have welcomed a fluffy cat into our lives, eating in cozy breakfasts together before heading off to work.

I loved her.

No, I still do. Each time my phone rings, I wish it was her, and whenever I see her with someone else, I ache to be in their place.

Sometimes I wonder if someone is kissing her, does she wish it was me?

"Y/N? Hello, are you even listening?" Dahyun's voice pierced through my thoughts, jolting me back to reality.

"Oh, sorry," I murmured, feeling the weight of my emotions.

——

Dahyun seemed to notice the cracks forming in her friend, who was present physically but not mentally ever since that day. Her once vibrant persona had dimmed, a transformation that everyone observed except herself.

Everyone noticed how the girl, who was one of the best soloists, became empty, and how Y/N changed. Her friends often found her lost in thought or in tears, murmuring, "why?".

Her absence became more frequent, causing concern among her fellow members and everyone at JYP Entertainment.

“Y/N L/N on Hiatus” flashed across headlines as the once-famous and popular soloist suddenly took a break. Her company remained tight-lipped about the reason, leaving fans speculating about the duration of her hiatus.

No one anticipated the news, except JYP himself, who was entrusted with the secret. Y/N had requested that no one else be informed.

The news left everyone stunned, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events. Some of her friends, the TWICE members, couldn’t contain their frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nayeon exclaimed, her voice tinged with betrayal.

“Yeah, we’re her friends too! We deserve to know” Jeongyeon added, her tone demanding answers.

"Is she okay?" Dahyun inquired, her voice echoing with concern and frustration, demanding an explanation from JYP.

The members shouted at their boss exepct for their leader, Park Jihyo.

Her silence was deafening. Everyone watched as she burst out of the office, slamming the door behind her, leaving everyone shocked by her sudden action.

——-

I couldn’t find time to spend with her, leaving Jihyo angry with me. My touring schedule always seemed to clash with hers, making it difficult for us to spend time together.

"Babe, when are you coming home? I miss you." Jihyo repeated for what felt like the hundredth time over the phone.

Our relationship had begun to suffer due to the distance and our busy schedules. It’s fine, we can get through this right?

"Hey, y/n, I need to talk to you," her voice echoed through the phone after my performance.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, noticing the unusual use of my name.

“I…” She hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

"Y/n! You're on stage in 5!" my manager interrupted, breaking the conversation. "Sorry, I gotta go. I'll call you after. I love you, Ji" I said hurriedly before hanging up but never forgetting to remind her that i love her. Always.

Throughout my concert, a sense of uneasiness lingered. What could it be? Why am i feeling this?

After my concert, I headed straight to the next flight bound for Korea, disregarding my phones and social media.

"I need to be with her," echoed in my mind relentlessly. Despite my efforts, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I arrived at our apartment. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of comfort, filled with memories of the person I wanted to spend my life with.

"Jiji?" I called out as I entered. "Y/n?" Upon seeing her, I rushed to hug her tightly. "I miss you so much" was all I could manage to say.

Pulling away, she began, "I have something to tell you, y/n..." Her voice held an unfamiliar tone, leaving me unable to decipher its meaning.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? I'm so sorry I wasn't there, baby" I said, concern evident in my voice.

"N-no, I just don't feel like this is going to work, y/n..." Her words came out in a whisper, her voice trembling with emotion.

"What?" I was stunned. Why?

"We barely have time for each other, and it's tearing me apart. I love you so much, I really do, but we can't keep hiding from everything. It's frustrating! I want to share you with the world, and I can't. I want to be with you, but there's always something standing in the way," she confessed tearfully.

"We can work this out... I promise, Ji," I pleaded desperately.

"I can't... I'm tired, y/n.. we were already falling apart, but we keep on ignoring it. You said you will take me out to dinner once and it never happened..you said that you’ll marry me but you still haven’t, i’m tired of waiting, its killing me." Her words hung heavily in the air, leaving me speechless.

"Please don't leave me, Ji," I broke down, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry."

And with that, she left.

——-

I stare at the ring in the palm of my hand. Imagining what it would look like in her fingers. She would look so beautiful wouldn’t she?

I miss her. so much.

After the news echoed, calls and texts flooded my phone, in which i didn’t bother to check.

The scent of cigarettes hung in the air as i exhaled the smoke billowing out of my lips. I sighed, sipping alcohol from my bottle. This was the uh 4th? 5th? bottle? i don’t know.

Suddenly, my phone rang, and it was Nayeon unnie calling. I answered, my voice shaking, "Y/n?"

"Unnie," I sobbed into the phone.

"Where are you, y/n?" she asked, concern evident in her tone.

"Unnie" I sobbed harder, struggling to speak through my tears.

"I was going to ask her to marry me, unnie..." I confessed, my thoughts muddled by emotion.

"I was a coward, unnie. I was too late... I was so focused on work that I lost her!" I cried, the weight of regret heavy in my words.

“I love her so much unnie, so much. i wanted to give her the life she wanted but i lost her on the way…. i cant give her what she wants…”

“I already have her ring ready….i just..couldn’t find the right timing..”

“y/n…” A familiar voice echoed in the other line. “Unnie, did you use a voice changer to shut me up?! Yah!” I shouted.

“Its me.” H-huh?