#there are SO MANY that are just painfully alex

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

quotes from alex turner's favourite authors that make me want to put my face through a wall:

"although i have never been an actor in the strict sense of the word, i have nevertheless, in real life, always carried about with me a small folding theatre" - vladimir nabokov, despair

"there is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts," - albert camus

"there is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself" - raymond chandler

"at eight, he had once told his mother that he wanted to paint air" - vladimir nabokov

"no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self-knowledge" - joseph conrad

"everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it" - david foster wallace

"we're all lonely for something we don't know we're lonely for. how else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we've never even met?" - david foster wallace

"i turn over a new leaf every day, but the blots show through" - keith waterhouse

"the truth will set you free. but not until it's finished with you" - david foster wallace

"curiosity is insubordination in its purest form" - vladimir nabokov

"i'm me and nobody else; and whatever people think i am or say i am, that's what i'm not, because they don't know a bloody thing about me" - alan sillitoe

"we live as we dream; alone” - joseph conrad

"i liked, as i like still, to make words look self-conscious and foolish, to bind them by mock marriage of a pun, to turn them inside out, to come upon them unwares" - vladimir nabokov, despair

"whatever you get paid attention to for is never what you think is most important about yourself" - david foster wallace

"i continued to stir my tea long after it had done all it could with the milk” - vladimir nabokov, despair

"i remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind" - edgar allan poe

"all the information i have about myself is from forged documents" - vladimir nabokov, despair

"how odd i can have all this inside me and to you its just words" - david foster wallace

"you will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. you will never live if you're looking for the meaning of life" - albert camus

[wordsbyrian]

Surgeries and Surprises - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: "Skater!R gets injured", "Skater!R skates in XGames", "IDK but more Skater!R"

A/n: Look, I finally wrote a thing you guys! From multiple request for more Skater!R

Despite popular belief, skateboarding is an incredibly multifaceted activity.

There are so many different disciplines: street, vert, park, freestyle, downhill (and its variation street luge), and cruising.

For the first four, there are different competitions that skaters can compete in if they are so inclined. And in all honesty, you are usually not inclined to compete, preferring the unpredictable nature of actual street skating to the polished finish of comps like Street League, XGames, and Dew Tour.

But the chance to be one of the first skateboarders to compete in the Olympics.

Well, that’s not really something you can pass up on.

Which is why you’re skating in your 5th comp of the summer.

Not the worst schedule but you’re an idiot and made the choice to also try and get clips for your next video parts in your very limited free time.

Free time, that was only made more limited by the way you were constantly flying back and forth to France to support your wife in the World Cup.

All of this is to say that your body is currently going through it.

And, unluckily, it’ll keep going through it because XGames comps are not set up in a way that plays to your strengths, with only three 45 seconds runs to string together a line and show the judges what you can do.

Luckily, on the other hand, your flight out of Minneapolis is booked for immediately after the contest ends.

Your first two timed runs went pretty well but you know you can do better which is why you saved your best stuff for your final run.

And for the most part, your final run goes pretty well until you get to your last trick with 10 seconds remaining.

You had planned it out perfectly so that you had enough time to take a breath before giving it a go. A necessary precaution for a trick you're familiar with but not a master at, a frontside flip noseslide to fakie, especially since you’re trying it down the biggest obstacle, the 4-block rail.

A little homage to Reynolds, something you’ve been doing throughout the contest season.

Except there are a couple of problems.

The first is that, unlike Reynolds, you are not a master of the frontside flip.

The other is that after a long day of being skated by just about everyone, the rail had picked up the wax from everyone’s boards, making it slicker than you need it to be for your noseslide.

Which is why you aren’t very surprised when you hit the ground. The only surprising thing is how much it hurts.

You immediately roll over and begin to stand up and take a few steps, only to drop to one knee after barely making it anywhere.

As you try to gather the strength to stand again, you’re stopped by someone placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay down, Y/N/N.” It’s Reynolds. “You just used your head as a basketball and your arm is fucked. They’re bringing out a stretcher.”

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get up again. “I don’t need a stretcher.”

His hand gets firmer and you feel him pushing you to sit down properly.

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your boss. You need to go to the hospital, your shit is fucked.”

It’s at this moment that you realize how quiet the arena is.

It’s almost as if you can hear the individualized breaths of everyone in the building and honestly, it's making your head pound in a way that you wish you weren’t familiar with.

Then you see the EmTs rolling the stretcher towards you.

“Fuck dude,” you groan, resigning yourself to your fate. “Just don’t call Alex, man, she’s gonna freak out.”

“It’s too late, she already texted me she’s trying to get on the next flight out.”

“Shit.”

The entire process of letting the EMTs do their jobs is a hassle because it’s painfully obvious that they don’t deal with skateboarders often. And it takes a lot of convincing for you to even let them strap you to the backboard.

Your memory blurs out a bit after that.

The only thing you really remember besides waking up in the hospital is telling Reynolds to make sure that they don’t give you anything stronger than a Tylenol (that didn’t happen).

When you regain consciousness it’s to the sound of voices, two you recognize and one you don’t.

“She should be coming out of the anesthesia soon,” the recognizable voice says, a doctor maybe. “In addition to her mild concussion, there were some moderate tears to her deltoid that were repaired in surgery. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the fractures to the humeral head as we can’t cast the area.”

“She’s not going to like the sound of that,” you hear Alex say, “Not going to like that at all.”

“Unfortunately, whether she likes it or not doesn’t really matter. She needs to be in the sling for a few weeks at least,” the doctor says.

“Alright, thanks doc,” Reynolds' loud voice makes the headache you forgot you had worse. “Don’t worry Alex, she’s been through worse. Besides, the medal will make her feel better.”

“Not now Andrew.”

The door to your room opens a tiny bit and through squinted eyes, you watch as both your wife and mentor slip through the crack, closing the door behind them.

When they get close enough that you can make out the details on their faces, you stick your hand out to Alex and attempt to pull her into the hospital bed with you.

She doesn’t let you though and instead releases your hand to pull the only chair closer to the bed.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I told Andrew to tell you that you didn’t need to come all the way out here. You should be at home resting,” you tell her.

“And I told him that I was already on my way to the airport.”

“And I told you,” Reynolds says, frowning at you, “that I wasn’t going to risk having your wife mad at me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Now here’s your medal, silver’s not too bad considering you knocked yourself out,” he says, placing the item on the edge of the bed. “I’ll see you around bro.”

Both you and Alex watch as he quickly exits the room, moving sort of like his ass is on fire, and leaving the two of you alone.

The second the door fully shuts behind him you turn back to Alex and see more than her sigh deeply.

“How do you feel…”

“Why weren’t you…”

You both try to speak at the same time.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her.

“Well, first of all, were you just about to ask how I’m feeling while you are literally laying in a hospital bed,” she asks.

You shrug somewhat sheepishly and say, “I mean you just flew halfway across the country and I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

“Y/N/N, you’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes at you, “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet? You can only smash your head so many times before the damage is irreversible and I don’t like constantly being called to hospitals wondering if this time is the one.”

You take a second to let her words sink in.

She’s right.

Ever since the two of you reconnected and subsequently got together roughly 4 years ago, you’ve been injured quite a bit.

This is your 3rd concussion and 4th broken. You’ve also ruptured your achilles, cracked a few ribs, had one of your lungs collapse, and gotten over 50 stitches from various gashes gained from getting cut open skating some sketchy spots.

That’s not even counting the smaller ones that you haven’t told her about, like when you sprained your ankle visiting her during the Rio Olympics.

But admitting that Alex is right has never been something you’re great at.

So instead you just scoot over in the bed and ask her to lay down with you again.

It takes a bit of pleading but you do get her to join you and when she does, you’re quick to wiggle around into a position that's comfortable but still allows you to hold her.

With the knowledge that your current position makes it impossible for her to see your face, you can’t help but crack a joke.

“C'mon, babe, you know that helmets are for hills and hills only,” you say, finally answering her question, only to immediately recoil as she pinches you. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know I really freaked you out today and I hate that I keep forcing you to come see me in hospitals. And I…” she cuts you off.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she protests, keeping her voice light. “I love you even though you seem dead set on destroying your body.”

“It’s not really on purpose,” you say, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes when I skate it’s like an out-of-body experience. Nothing matters except how good it’s gonna feel when I roll away. I can barely even think straight when I’m on my board but that obviously means I don’t think about how my choices affect others and that’s not fair to you.”

When you finish speaking, the first thing you hear from your wife is a sigh that can only be described as annoyed.

“What,” you ask.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.”

“Babe,” your voice is indignant, and too loud even to your own ears.

“I’m sorry but you’re so dumb,” she says. “I’m not concerned because of how it affects me, I care about how it affects you. You’ve been acting strangely all summer and I don’t really want to see where this path takes you.”

Once again Alex is right.

And her pointing out your recent odd behavior, something you hadn’t noticed yourself, is like a bucket of ice water over your head.

Taking a deep breath, you nod even though she can’t see you and say, “I think I need to call my sponsor.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, between your concussion and having to travel back to Orlando, the call to your sponsor had to wait a few days.

And in those few days, you begin to really notice the behaviors Alex had mentioned.

Even before your injury, you were stressed and anxious but you had ignored it, believing it was tied to the comps and upcoming deadlines.

But now with those things mostly out of the way, the intensity of these feelings is familiar and you aren’t very fond of the places you ended up the last few times you felt like this.

And the isolation of being trapped at home, unable to do much more than stare at the walls and wait for Alex to get back from training, only made those feelings stronger.

When you’re finally able to make that call and the first words finally come out of your mouth, it’s as though the weight of the world comes off your shoulders.

Recovery isn’t an instant process but you do instantly feel a little better as you explain your recent behaviors that you now recognize as somewhat erratic.

And when the call ends, you have a list of dates, times, and locations so you can go to a meeting whenever you need to.

The only thing that's really left for you to do is talk to your wife when she gets home but that might be the hardest part.

So you wait, completing as many boring household tasks as you can to make the time pass more quickly.

It doesn’t really work that well because you only have one arm to work with. And you're just unlucky enough that it's your dominant hand out of commission.

You’re in the middle of unloading the dishwasher when you hear the front door open and shut.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to find you and in the back of your mind, you know that the only reason she didn’t shout your name across the house like she normally does is because of your lingering headache.

“Hey babe,” you hear her greet as you bend over to place a pot in its designated cabinet.

“Hi,” you respond, standing back up and turning to face her, only to see that she’s already taken a seat at the island. “Oh, that’s the serious conversation chair,” you note, going to lean on the counter opposite her.

“I mean it is serious but it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, do you mind if I go first,” you ask, “Mine isn’t bad either but I finally got around to giving Noah a call.”

When you say that it's almost as though you can feel the energy in the room shift.

“How did that go?”

“It definitely went.”

“Are you going to elaborate or…”

Sighing deeply, you shuffle your feet, focusing on the way your socks slip over the tile.

“Apparently, when you’re really stressed and overly tired your brain chemistry changes,” you tell her, now looking up at the ceiling. “Which makes people look for things to relieve the stress, which can be a bad thing for addicts. And between the video parts, qualifiers, and flying all over the place, I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and think, much less attend a meeting. But now, when I would’ve had a chance to, I can barely be in a room with lights on for more than 15 minutes.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex responds and as it passes, you can feel your heart sink further and further into your stomach. This is the moment that she finally decides that being with you is far more work than it's worth.

Your downward spiral is broken by the sound of her voice.

“I guess that means that we have to come up with ways for you to handle stress when you're busy,” Alex says, “because you’re only about to get busier.”

“What? No, I’m not, the next two competitions are at the end of the month and I literally can’t skate for the next month and a half.”

“3 months,” she shoots back, “and yes you will.”

“You’re not making any sense Alex.”

Alex gets up from her seat and makes her way toward you. Before you know it, she’s reaching out for your good hand, which to this point has had a death grip on the counter behind you, not that you’ve noticed.

With a confused look on your face, you watch as she pulls your hand to rest against her stomach before covering it with both of her own.

Still confused, it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out why she would do that.

It’s only when you remember the seemingly never-ending nausea Alex has been dealing with that you connect the dots.

“Oh shit.”

[autiacorart]

i just think about henry crushing painfully on alex for so many years, being all alone in the castles and thinking he neither can ever have his love nor he even deserves it

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP5/8 O CLOCK AT THE OASIS (PART 3) Aka SweaterPaws, Fake Fish, The Best Okuh Ever, And Jess Mariano Is A Waterlogged Infant Kitten

Parts 1 & 2 and all other episodes can be found in my pinned post.

This scene of Rory overhearing an answering maching message from Dwight's irate wife combines two of AmyShermanPalladino favorite things: answering machines and (the voice of) Alex Borstein (Celine & Drella on GG, Suzie on Mrs Maisel. Also Lois on Family Guy). Gilmore Girls Producer: Attention, Gilmore Girls crew! It has come to my attention that our budget will not cover both Outdoor Landscaping Scenes and Fishtanks. Sacrifices will have to be made.

Finally she admits to herself that Dean is a serial killer. And casual swearing from Rory? Wow, what a delight to hear.

!!!SWEATER PAWS ALERT!!!!

What do the kids say? Unbothered. Moisturized. Flourishing? In my lane? Something like that. It's clearly a school day (since Rory is in her uniform) while it appears to be a rare day where Jess hasn't been scheduled to work in the Coffee Mines before school. Speaking of school, he's walking away from school instead of towards it and is not carrying any school supplies or a backpack. He looks happy. Just vibing in his ugly oversized clothing. Hopefully he looks up every so often so he doesn't walk face first into a lamp post.

Or that.

Blue Crush was a 2002 movie about a girl who surfs starring Kate Bosworth. Get it? Cause Rory is covered in water?

Hey. Eyes up top, Pal.

The floofy hair. The prominent draggy lip. The five o'clock shadow. Salty enjoys naming things she can see.

How many of Jess' books have been ruined with water? 2 so far. The answer is 2.

And now...ladies and Gentlemen...I present the greatest Milo Okuh Ever Okuh'D:

Get you a man who will risk soaking himself and pretend he didn't assist you with turning off a sprinkler so your boyfriend Dean won't fly into a jealous rage over it. It brings a tear to ol Salty’s eye. The episode wraps up with Lorelai attempting to end the Peyton Sanders nonsense by apologizing to Emily and taking the blame for the entire incident. Silly Lorelai, she didn't consider "What would Emily Gilmore think?" first and foremost before agreeing to go on one date with a random guy. I mean, Lorelai declining a second date with Peyton could have caused Emily to lose rank in her Tea Party Circle with Peyton's mother or some nonsense like that, according to a ridiculous story Richard just told Lorelai earlier in the episode. Let me be clear here, in case the message got a little lost- I am 100% siding with Lorelai here. She should not have to grovel like this over something so meaningless.

HOGWASH. Stop this right now Lorelai. Emily is standing just a few feet away and you're in a kitchen filled with many sharp knives and cooking implements. I'll look the other way. She even agrees to go on a second date with Peyton just to pacify Emily even though she just made it painfully clear how miserable it would make her to see this dude again. Emily is quite pleased seeing Lorelai's state of misery. Well, like I said earlier, you do only have a very small window of time before David Bowie stops performing forever, so go for it I guess. Take the tickets, then drop Hamm. Drop him like Rory dropped out of Yale. I have a final comment: Although by the end of this episode we don't see Rory at school, one would have to presume that after the sprinkler incident she either had to get on the bus and go to school sopping wet or go home and change and blowdry her hair and risk being very late to class. Either she gets reprimanded for showing up to school late or she gets reprimanded for the wet uniform and hair so she's screwed no matter what. If he didn't take an ounce of pity on Rory for her Hit By A Deer story, do you think Headmaster Charleston would buy some fantastical tale from Rory about her tardiness being due to a sprinkler, sweater paws, a neighbor with a board game fetish, and Dean the unabomber?

[stargirlie25]

yall not to be cocky, but I have ALWAYS known who was going to be endgame between a love triangle. Like never have I been wrong.

However on many of those instances I was on board with the non endgame couple anyway. The fact is that I KNOW who is endgame but I can still ship whatever.

So yeah I'm pretty confident in elucien and gwynriel.

I knew Jackie would end up with Cole but I like Jackie and alex(mlwtwb)

i knew for sure bonrad would be endgame but I thought jere and belly were sweet together

I LOVE STELENA SM but delena was obviously endgame

Stiles and Malia were the cutest but Lydia and him were planned from the beginning.

So I actually do ship elucien and gwynriel but back when I was reading acotar and was neutral to all of this ship war stuff I thought:

''isnt Sarah just creating one of those scenarios were the character thinks she is happy but doesn't know who or what she needs?'' with elucien

and with gwynriel ''isnt Sarah creating a parallel difference to how Az is with Elain vs Gwyn?''

its painfully obvious.

I have way more deeper thoughts Abt the ships now which are still anti e/riel but these are things that came straight to my mind and I only became I hardcore elucien and gwynriel from the fandoms influence.

[panelshowsource]

hey frends!

just a lil update to say that i'll be moving soon, so over the next 2–3 weeks i'll be quite busy and won't be able to post a lot a lot (not that i usually post that much but i do try!)

now that many panel shows are wrapping up their seasons, it's not too much to keep up with the masterpost or anything, so i'll definitely keep that chugging, but gifs might be a little slow :') i have a few requests i'll work on, and it's fine to send those in; plus, i said i'd be making BIG gifsets for the recent taskmaster contestants and i'm definitely working on those! i wanna do a good job so taking my time :)

wanna remind everyone about some of the newer additions to the googledrive!

ed gamble — glutton (audiobook) (i'll be listening to this today while i'm packing! if anyone else listened pls lmk what you think!! i'm also wrapping up david's book and gonna post my thoughts soon hehe)

added the most recent alex horne/tim key celebrity pointless to the alex horne collection folder

a couple seasons of duck quacks don't echo upgraded to 1080p

bbc radio 4's hard to tell from 2011, with jonny sweet, charlotte ritchie, katy wix, etc.

complete british as folk, with fern brady, ivo graham, and darren harriott (any other homo reading this grow up absolutely and painfully obsessed with queer as folk? either version? oh man... this programme gets a 10/10 for the name alone, iconic)

live at the moth club

lots of fun new episode of growing pains, hignfy, taskmaster, outsiders :)

as well, there are a couple of new podcasts out: russell howard's wonderbox and james acaster's springleaf :)

i have a bunch of asks and i'll post them later! you guys are being so cute about taskmaster it's been so fun

hope everyone is having a great weekend!

btw... please don't feel obligated to anon me rude messages... i'm a little stressed with everything going on in Life, so maybe save those for the new year? i'll try to come up w witty retorts after i've had some sleep

it's funny, i've been hearing a lot about blog competition and fighting for notes and monopolising panel show content blah blah in my inbox recently. (i only included one here but there's genuinely been quite a few just in the last couple of weeks.) i don't know what might be going on on other blogs or discords or whatever, and i honestly didn't even know these were still convos people are having; i kinda thought we all agreed that this site isn't as big as it used to be, notes aren't as plentiful as they used to be, but by golly we'll just keep on posting anyways. i don't know if there are edit tags for any panel shows but i don't use them; i just post content here for my current followers and if you guys like it then that's all i wanted to do. i don't care if there are other panel show blogs with more followers or posts that get more notes or better gifs or better blogs or whatever. it's all fine. i don't care. i don't think about it. so you don't have to ask me that stuff — how to grow your blog or get more followers or more engagement, or how i feel about other blogs that post the same content as i do — i won't answer it. just post it because you want to; don't race to be the first one to get stuff at (especially at the expense of making content you're proud of!); don't put other people down; don't send anonymous hate. just be cool and worry about you. if you can't have fun here without validation in the notes then you're gonna be miserable. flopping is integral to being active.

[carlos55inz]

so . i suppose i am back ( still not particularly well, but i guess possibly losing your mind in reality fuels the creative process maybe ?? ) with something also in a futuristic au but like … i guess blade runner & inception aesthetics tossed together with an anastasia backstory & rich kids & businesspeople politicking ft. illegal things & like . way too many ‘ accidental fires ’ ? idk . i did say i was losing my mind & the pov doesn’t even give the full context . ( it’s max & carlos & charles, but the vibes are kind of angsty & rancid & don’t even @ me about relationship dynamics, whoops ? )

in hindsight, the disaster started when finally, there came a night when max verstappen got drunk in heaven. only, he’s not really in heaven — it’s just the joking nickname for the club on the 100th floor of this skyscraper, where all the floors below fulfill any desire you could have. some of what’s here is mundane, grocery stores with the freshest fruits & clothing boutiques to make you the most fashionable person around — others are the epitome of decadence & decay, of why pr teams are so badly needed. ( he’s smart enough to let other people find a fix for him, if he needs it that badly, at least. )

the mistake was letting lando drag him anywhere. the point of no return was letting him drag max here. ( he should’ve heeded the pr team’s advice, but he’d never been a fan of authority. )

the neon lights, sea of noises & lights, alcohol drenching his pressed shirt an hour in, alex tumbling into the pool with a giant splash before being yanked out by a disgruntled george, so many perfumes nauseatingly mixing together, lando somehow wresting control of the dj booth & cranking the sound up until he could hardly hear, until with the pulsing red lights & thundering beat, it seemed as though he was trapped right in the middle of a heart. ( he gets it, dimly, why people would give anything for a night here. it makes everything a haze, forgetting painfully easy. )

he is due to inherit the redbull conglomerate, who are involved in just about anything & everything, joked to have hearts that stain as black as the window tints on their tower that looms over the city almost menacingly — corporations who loom large in the public conscious & places you’d kill to get into. he takes a speeder to work & avoids traffic by simply flying above it all at dizzying speeds & swerving sharply around the neon lights & skyscrapers that comprise this city. he is max verstappen, he does not stray or doubt & yet —

perched on a barstool, dark coat draped around his shoulders & wide, unfocused eyes staring distractedly into the distance, rouge lips pressed against the rim of an overly colourful glass, something unreal made human — max has seen a ghost.

the sainz family is a taboo topic around these parts. once the founders of the most respected pharmaceutical & biomedical research company around, almost a decade ago, their tower burned down in a chemical accident & killed almost everyone inside, every member of the family included. alongside them, decades of research & innovation went up in flames & in the aftermath, the surviving employees all jumped ship. max remembers that day — the sky had turned artifically red, bleeding scarlet alongside the setting sun as the fire raged well into the night. he’d stood on his balcony, of the building he’d only moved back into weeks ago & watched the whole night & into the next morning, hands clenched into fists while jos watched on, something cruel & satisfied curling on his lip. he remembers reading the coroners’ report. he does not remember crying, but the sting hadn’t receded from his eyes for days afterwards. ( jos pushes him into the business, into colder things — he doesn’t fight it, this time around. )

the red bull conglomerate snatched up most of the surviving employees, because the sainz family had long been partners with them anyways. the rumours of what exactly was hidden in that tower though — the whispers of ducking government investigations, illict & lethal medication funneled down into the streets & most notoriously, pills that supposedly made you forget? those never went away. ( it’s nonsense. myths, stories spun by people who have nothing to lose by telling an impossible tale. or so they say. )

he isn’t so certain. but maybe it’s coloured by a childhood friendship with carlos, both of them growing up on the same enclave outside the city that redbull associated affluent families favoured, where the clocks went slower & everything seemed frozen in time, a little. the verstappens had a home there & so did the sainz family — & it was there that he met carlos, their only son, back when he was fifteen or sixteen & had wandered off his family’s property & into the lush orchards & meadows of the neighbouring one. ( he couldn’t be blamed — in the rare few trips he’d taken into the city, greenery was nonexistent & jos was no fan of gardening either. )

the first time, carlos had almost kicked a ball into his face in distraction & shouted there was an intruder. the second time, max gathered up the courage to march up the impressively long driveway & knock on the front door instead. the third time, the fourth — he forgot, after that. they started taking their lessons together while squabbling about formulas & diagrams, falling down onto the grass & blinking sun out of their eyes, carlos peeling oranges on the counter while singing so badly out of tune, the suspicious stares of their fathers from afar ( jos had never liked carlos or softer things in life ) while they laughed so much his chest hurt afterwards. smart & kind & warm — being around carlos was almost too easy, soothing the ragged edges of hurt & disapproval he didn’t even realise was there most times. ( he doesn’t realise until years later that carlos had grown up with almost no one except his family around, so isolated that not a single photo of him existed & no one else he knew had any recollection of him. it had been paranoia & in the end, it had perhaps been justified. )

max wasn’t in love, no, the same way he’d never grieved. ( liar, liar, liar. ) & it’s only afterwards, when he wakes up at lando’s with the taste of champagne in his mouth, that he asks. & lando, suspicious but flippant, laughs that finally max has succumbed to being lonely, that he’s come to steal another of lando’s friends, that he can’t believe max fell for an escort, for chili. ( he’s an escort for one of the most well-known agencies,lando laughs, so he’s nice to people like me for money & they like him a lot. that had sent him reeling. so he’s your friend? what’s his name? max had asked, praying lando hadn’t noticed how badly his voice is about to wobble. i’ve never hired him, we just met at the club two years ago,lando replies, he’s carlos. i don’t know his last name, i’ve never asked & he’s never said. the holographic photo display he projects at max is startling clear, bambi eyes & plush lips, eternally finding things a touch funny & — max almost throws up on lando’s sofa. )

carlos sainz, a name that curls around your tongue with the faintest hint of an ache. but that’s not the name he finds when he secretly goes digging, pulls some strings from people he knows cannot refuse him ( are nowhere close to repaying the debts they owe, because redbull are ruthless & resort to methods as dirty as everyone else ) & retrieves what he needs to know about the renault agency, about chili.

he’s still carlos. but this time, carlos merhi. that’s what the records say, shimmer of dark letters on an electronic screen. only member of the merhi family left alive after their street failed to survive a residential fire that had devoured much of it. ( a street that is being razed & integrated into a new redbull funded development. ) now, the most wanted escort in the city — the most beautiful thing to live nine levels below heaven.

a carlos who now doesn’t talk about his past, doesn’t remember him at all, smiles & laughs & easily leans into his hugs, makes feeling good way too easy. max has heard of it, trauma affecting memories. but to seemingly never say a word or make any hint of recognition ? either carlos is a devastatingly good actor, or something truly awful has happened. ( in a sick way, he’s almost glad carlos doesn’t remember, because then he wouldn’t be able to stand the guilt. )

max doesn’t want to think about it, the rumours about just what the sainz family knew. he doesn’t want to think about how he knows redbull was responsible for that fire because carlos sr had pushed back on every attempt to access the more cutting edge, radical research & they’d lost their patience in the end, & yet he’d still staked his life in their name, even if for years he’d thought his childhood friend was dead. he’s not a particularly good person by any means, they run this conglomerate like how you’d run the mob, taking out anyone & everyone interrupting their ambitions. but still.

he goes back, every week. transfers carlos exorbitant amounts of money, a paltry attempt at what he’s not even sure is a sorry. doesn’t ask for much of anything, sometimes plays games on the screen, sometimes just sits & stares at the skyline as he leans against carlos & tries to convince himself he’s not chasing the closeness they’d had all those years ago. lets carlos make conversation, take his mind away from the day, lets the past & its memories creep up a touch too close. afraid, almost, that it’s all just another trick of the light or sleepless night. rubs idly at his ring finger, hopes that no one realises there’s a few days too many where he doesn’t sleep at ‘ home ’ anymore. ( prays that carlos won’t remember, prays that he does & won’t turn his back instead. )

because there’s a reason this could be ruinous. he hadn’t understood why, didn’t know for what reason gp & hannah & adrian hadn’t called it all off screaming — keep your friends close, enemies closer, maybe. ( charles leclerc’s hand in marriage is not one he wants, but it’s the one he might have to take. ferrari & redbull, staring down mercedes & mclaren. it’d almost be cute if it weren’t his life being dragged from him, kicking & screaming. ferrari are older & more established, though losing that polish — he knows as long as they can expand their business, they don’t care for anyone who gets in the way. )

max knows charles too. intimately, since they were children, in the way you know a bruise, a scar, something ripe & bleeding & a mirror all the same. ferrari & redbull are at odds more often than not, one with a certain arrogance, the other a wounded pride — both with hubris yet afraid of being backed into corners by rivals unafraid to make public embarassments of them all. ( these conglomerates sell medicines & watch models stride across the stage by day, dabble in drugs & funnel money into illegal street races at night — everyone knows they are all virtually criminal enterprises cleaned up to look like proper businesses. )

they’ve tried undermining each other so many times, thrown wrench after wrench into each other’s plans & unhesitatingly exchanged barbed words across pristine tabletops. the comparisons are endless in the press & though it’s all nonsense — it still rankles max. ( screw destiny, being pre-destined, as if that had meant anything, or ever could. ) & now people up there are convinced that something could be scaffolded together from the combined force of ferrari & redbull together, tied by the prospect of a farcical relationship between their heirs & probably on the verge of disintegration every other day, because redbull liked to stab others & ferrari was good enough at stabbing itself sometimes.

he hates dealing with press. charles is good enough at it, armed with a charming smile & relaxes into the poses he needs to strike for the cameras. he can’t be bothered to change out of his standard-issue redbull shirt most days. charles probably has an army of people who make him look like a bit of a hapless model.

the nights max has dinners with charles under the guise of ‘ thawing the ice ’, he thinks maybe too much about painting an ugly bloom of bruises, something to stain the distanced perfection charles holds himself in sometimes. ( he eventually gives up on exactly how he wants to do it. ) the barely hidden reverence for ferrari ( a corporation ! max could laugh, if he weren’t so beholden to redbull for giving him something to do with life, the luxury he can now afford his mother & sisters ). it’s uncomfortable & the more time max unwillingly spends putting up this ruse, the more he feels like he’s spinning about, surrounded by funhouse mirrors while furiously trying to get away from it all. ( what sorts of ploys either of them have up their sleeves, he doesn’t know & even then, he is not, cannot be afraid. after all, if the thought of the dead didn’t scare him much anymore, what could ? )

but they are both prone to occasionally holding grudges. striding into uncertain futures, people who’ve been cruel & convinced themselves it was necessity. tied to families that loom above the rest, now to organisations that could care less as long as the numbers looked pretty & they won whatever turf wars were going on, both literal & metaphorical. people who could be softer & better in other situations, other times but — that’s the one luxury neither of them can buy back now. ( its a tidal force of something, a yanking that daniel side eyes & makes lando look at him like he’s gone mad, like they’re both afraid the other will call a bluff first. )

he attends events with charles by day & ignores the engagement rumours while insisting publicly he’s done with pointless fights, falls asleep with his hologram display in carlos’ bed at night. warm eyes, dark hair, a much envied beauty & a heart not his for the taking, not that he wants or could carry the weight of it anymore. charles & carlos — even the same name wound two ways, drenched in patterns of light & shadow dancing across the window. he cannot think about it anymore, not that it’s any safer to feel. ( like his moments aren’t scraped across his eyes, like he seems to be impatient & hot-headed but also can’t let any of it fade from his mind. )

in the divine comedy, dante wrote about hell having nine circles. perhaps max should’ve paid more attention in those literature classes he only ever wanted to escape from — because otherwise, he would’ve realised there was some irony in how the ninth circle was for treachery. ( that he may have been so much worse a judge of intentions, or that some people had somehow outplayed his hand for so much longer. )

( the complaint used to be that you couldn’t remember anything. now it’s that you can’t forget — not that it’s any less devastating. )

( tbh idk what i was going for with this but like . ephermerality of memory . people being kind of awful . lying versus omitting the truth versus keeping someone safe . slow thaws, a long ache . entanglements made fatal . or, as margaret atwood put it — we were ruinous together . but how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin ? )

- charlos au anon <3

if you are scrolling down your page and see this ask, read it. this is an amazing au. i’m speechless. i wish i could read 200k words of this universe.

WE ARE BACK IN THE GAME IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU HERE. alright. let’s go. max, charles AND carlos? oh i’m fucking seated. im down. the sci-fi theme mixed with fantasy is one of my favorite things. you nailed this down we need more fics with crazy words building.

“joked to have hearts that stain as black as the window tints on their tower that looms over the city almost menacingly” damn charlos au anon, writing masterpieces in my ask again????

“he is max verstappen, he does not stray or doubt & yet—“ god how i love a yet— is one of my favorites things. the suspense. sitting at the edge of my seat waiting for more.

charlos anon au, if i had the money, i would sponsor you like the old times where the riches paid good money for artist to just do nothing except live by their art. i would give you money just so you could do nothing but write a long ass fanfiction of this idea because, really, what a masterpiece. i can’t get enough. this is my favorite setting for fics and you are brillaint in the way you describe and built the word and the relationship between the characters. this is Amazing. i read this almost 5 times because of how much i liked it. i gushed about it to my roommate. i said it before, but i need to say it again, i wish i could snuggle around your brain just to watch because it must be marvelous in there. all these ideas forming (you know those memes SHE SENT ME HER LOCATION TF IS THIS is me sending my location: charlos au anon’s brain)

“ blinking sun out of their eyes, carlos peeling oranges on the counter while singing so badly out of tune, the suspicious stares of their fathers from afar ( jos had never liked carlos or softer things in life ) while they laughed so much his chest hurt afterwards. smart & kind & warm — being around carlos was almost too easy, soothing the ragged edges of hurt & disapproval he didn’t even realise was there most times.” i got to say, you nailed down carlos. i love you talk about him in your ideas. always warm and kind, despite everything, after all, he is still kind. always.

yeah. right. max. that does sound like someone who isn’t in love, sure.

(also, versainz? way to get my heart. fucking love these two gremlin paired together).

CARLOS MERHI???? FUCK OFFFFFF. YOUR MINDDDDDD. OH MY GOD??????? “the most beautiful thing to live nine levels below heaven.” oh he is. he so is.

“either carlos is a devastatingly good actor, or something truly awful has happened. (in a sick way, he’s almost glad carlos doesn’t remember, because then he wouldn’t be able to stand the guilt.)” i need a moment to lay down. you do this every time. how do you pull this. you always make me feel too much that i need a break. but i can’t get a break because i want to keep reading. i can’t get enough.

“he doesn’t want to think about how he knows redbull was responsible for that fire” THE TWISTS THE REVELATIONS? oh this is fucking good. this is gold. i need a whole ass 300k of this. you have bewitched me body and soul with this one. you are getting better every time. i didn’t think it was possible was it was already fucking Great the last au, but you are doing it. i don’t know how but you are raising the bar every time.

“charles leclerc’s hand in marriage is not one he wants, but it’s the one he might have to take.” oh we got to charles. oh the plot is thickening.

“max knows charles too. intimately, since they were children, in the way you know a bruise, a scar, something ripe & bleeding & a mirror all the same.” fuck off charlos au anon you can’t just casually write this like it’s nothing. it’s everything. it’s something people would find in classical books and say damn. like dostoyevsky and dastiel fic writers are looking at you with envy right now. “because redbull liked to stab others & ferrari was good enough at stabbing itself sometimes.” do you get what i’m saying????? this is insane!

“screw destiny, being pre-destined, as if that had meant anything, or ever could.” oh i see you. i see the pre-destined thing. i do.

“we were ruinous together . but how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin” charlos au anon. this was everything. i swear. this was. amazing. i can’t begin to describe how much i enjoyed every second of reading it (once, twice, thrice, and a bunch of times more).

(also i can’t add you or message you on discord for some reason??? so please you can find me as undertheceu if you want to ramble to me in there or just chat!! i would love to as i have much more i would like to say to you but i can’t right now because i’m in class!)

[goldberrg]

my atlantis

summery : — Remember, you and I argued that you would never cry because of a girl? — you smiled radiantly, tears welled up at the corners of your eyes. — So you lost, Munson. You owe me one wish.

TW's – selfharm, death.

You always saw him among the others. His radiant smile, expressing mock playfulness, his long thin fingers with many rings, dark, constantly tangled curly hair and a confident look that makes you freeze in silent admiration. Eddie Munson was your point.

They met at one of the regular parties back in high school, when you wore uncomfortable metal braces and endured constant ridicule from others, and Eddie was just starting his way as a guitarist of a musical group. It was a holiday in honor of Halloween, arranged by the school administration, which means it is absolutely mandatory for every student, regardless of desire.

That day, for the sake of decency, you drew yourself barely noticeable vampire fangs with your mother's makeup and chose a blood-scarlet dress, not wanting to be a black sheep at the party. It took you a long time to gather your strength, because you were well aware that someone would definitely cling to her and start bullying you.

Your fears were indeed confirmed when a red-haired, obese classmate Alex approached you with a leisurely gait, baring his teeth in anticipation of an interesting spectacle. You involuntarily shuddered and forcefully squeezed a plastic cup with some bright soda, your gaze in panic ran around the room full of teenagers having fun in suits.

— What, Y\N, looking for someone who would fall for someone like you? I'll give you some good advice. — Alex painfully poked the girl in the forehead with his finger. — Look for the son of the driver, he will definitely like your rails in his teeth! A group of teenagers nearby burst out laughing, thereby giving the joker self-confidence. Alex lifted his chin in a fit of pride, grinning smugly.

Just be patient, Y\N. You know, it's worth waiting a little, and they'll leave, the main thing is just to ignore, that's for sure.

— Are you jealous because only your mom is pecking at you? — there was a decisive voice with a note of irony from somewhere behind. — Don't worry, she definitely won't give up on you.

You turned around so abruptly that your dark hair slightly brushed the face of your intercessor, who was leaning against the doorway in a relaxed manner. In front of her stood a short-haired guy, dressed absolutely not according to the dress code of the party. His dark brown eyes looked at Alex with a clear threat, glinting unkindly.

The red-haired classmate instantly disappeared along with his company, muttering something in order to leave the last word in this skirmish. To catch up with him, the stranger shouted a couple of sophisticated curses, causing you to barely smile.

Getting unexpected help was damn nice.

— I'm Eddie Munson. — the guy said, turning to face the rescued you. He extended a calloused palm in a friendly way, awkwardly chuckling. — I saw you in the school choir, you sing very well.

You were sure that you did not know the interlocutor and hardly noticed him at school, which caused you a pressing sense of guilt and discomfort. Nevertheless, the brown-haired you immediately shook the cold hand of a new acquaintance, now smiling like a Cheshire cat.

— Y\N.

***

You spent the rest of your high school years in the company of the noisy and energetic, but so real Eddie. After the Halloween party, you pondered for a long time whether a new acquaintance would want to continue communicating, but Munson instantly decided everything for you when, without a drop of doubt, he took a seat next to you in the school cafeteria.

— The schedule today is just disgusting, what normal person wants to sit for two whole chemistry lessons in May, have the teachers finished at school. — Munson said quickly, but very expressively, putting the tray next to the discouraged you.

— A little more, and I myself will split into atoms.

You, being in a strong shock, only slowly batted her eyelashes, mentally asking. "What have you forgotten in this place for obvious outsiders?" To tell the truth, the people around had quite similar expressions of emotions. Munson clicked his tongue irritably, looking around the room with a heavy gaze. As if under his influence, the onlookers reluctantly returned to their original business, resuming conversations.

— Do you want to join our music group? We have a vocalist, but only a guy. With a female voice, the songs will sound, well, cooler or something. It's going to be great. — Eddie was just glowing with enthusiasm, even his hands were shaking with excitement. Noticing that Mary was clearly doubtful, the guy quickly added. — If you dont like it, tell me right away, I'll buy you something delicious as compensation.

You laughed loudly, not understanding how not to succumb.

***

Along with the start of high school, it was time for new responsibilities and new challenges. You had been a member of a musical group for a long time, genuinely enjoying it. During all this time, you managed to visit countless contests and talent shows with new friends, of course, not only to see his charming smile.

Eddie Munson became the most dazzlingly beautiful part of your life. During the spring exams, he still looked ready for everything and set up only for the best outcome. With an incalculable number of witty jokes in reserve, he whispered something hilarious and gently hugged you by your thin shoulders, without realizing that this gave him the strength to move on. His embrace was warm and soothing, even the smell of cigarettes, which you were always complaining about, tickled your nose pleasantly.

— Tomorrow will be better, you'll do your best. —Eddie assured hoarsely, and you were ready to believe him without hesitation, nodding absently and squeezing the edge of a battered jeans.

When he started dealing drugs, you thought it was a bad joke. He thought too correctly, treated life too honestly to push stupid schoolchildren nonsense. It was definitely some kind of misunderstanding between you and him.

It turned out that there was too much misunderstanding in your head.

— There are problems with money in the family. — Eddie said firmly and dryly, as if he had memorized a phrase, without looking up at you. — Uncle works hard, but this is not enough, and they pay little at regular work. I need money.

You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, biting your lip hard. Even the sharp pain did not sober you up, only caused unbidden tears. You quickly wiped them off with the sleeve of the jacket, making sure that Eddie didn't see it. When you cried, he became frighteningly unpredictable.

— I'll borrow as much as I want, let's just finish this, mhm? — your voice sounded too plaintive, forcing Eddie to look at her anxiously. — I'll ask to borrow from my parents, they can give quite a lot. I can also get a job, and on weekends I can sing in some eateries. We can solve this problem, Eddie, we're..

— In a big fucking debt, honey. — he smiled bitterly, gently ruffled your hair. — I'm already a grown boy, respect my decisions.

Without waiting for an answer, Eddie impulsively hugged you — his girlfriend, burying his nose in the top of your head. You could only silently swallow salty tears and listen to the rapid beating of his heart. You should have confessed — more than anything in the world, you were afraid of losing him forever.

***

The closer the end of school life was, the more strangely your friends looked at you, as if expecting something. You often stayed overnight in Eddie's trailer, relentlessly falling asleep over a pile of textbooks and notebooks scattered everywhere. All attempts to pull the guy up on the most problematic subjects ended the same way — you woke up covered with a prickly, but very warm blanket, and met the same studying gaze of dark brown eyes. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was in the air, and Eddie, in order to overcome the obvious awkwardness, began to make fun of the your sleepy appearance, comparing you to a lost kitten. You blushed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, and indignantly threw pillows to Munson's infectious laughter. If it were possible, you would have settled in the trailer forever.

— When will you confess to him already? — Dustin casually throws a very sensitive topic into the dialogue after a joint game of the Hellfire Club. He is standing with you on the street and is clearly in no hurry to get home, patiently waiting.

You turn your head in panic, trying to make sure that the rest of the club members have already scattered in different directions, especially Eddie Munson. You sigh raggedly, runs your hand through the hair and looks skeptically at the boy. For some reason, the absurd thought occurs to you that Henderson looks older than you.

— When he confesses to me. — you tries to avoid a direct answer and crosses her arms over her chest. — Remind me how many girls you confessed to, the great Hawkins psychologist.

Dustin snorts disapprovingly, shifting his gaze to his friend. You were wearing his jacket, his rings, and even, damn it, his shoes.

— And you remind me when your legs have grown so much that you now wear men's shoes. — the boy retorts, watching with pleasure how your always pale face turns red. — Keep in mind, you are dear to me, but such a miracle of nature needs to be studied in the laboratory.

— Shut up. — you groan exhausted, covering your face with hands. — I wouldn't have reached home in my shoes, Eddie himself offered his shoes. Henderson guffaws hysterically, asking through laughter— And what, Eddie, like, will he come in heals?

Exactly. He doesn't carry a change of shoes with him, like a decent schoolboy.

***

— You're a jerk. — you said maliciously, the next day seeing Munson sitting in the dining room as if nothing had happened. — If you decide to do something so thoughtless and stupid again, I'll kill you with your own shoes.

Eddie watched you swearing with an ill-concealed smile, leaning his head on his hand. When you had finished slandering, he flicked you lightly on the nose and turned to the food.

— It's all right, actually, a friend dropped me off in a car, I didn't walk barefoot — the guy stammered, as if catching himself in a lie. — Well, I didn't walk most of the way. A third, probably.

You said nothing and rolled your eyes indignantly, catching Dustin's boring gaze on you. He theatrically played with his eyebrows, looking first at you, then at Eddie, which caused you to show him the middle finger and go to eat somewhere else.

But then Chrissy Cunningham came into our lives. A sunny, cheerful girl who was the personification of innocence. You sincerely considered her a younger sister, too soft-hearted for a school where other children are so mercilessly bullied. When Chrissy started coming to the band's concerts, staying at club meetings and zealously trying to understand the meaning of D&D, you found it cute. Finally, you will have those who will support you in any endeavors.

And a few weeks later, Eddie Munson proudly announced to the entire dining room that he was dating Chrissy Cunningham.

Sunny Girl playfully took everything you ever had.

You decided to choose a favorite tactic since high school — she decided to endure and smile. The sedatives were tasteless, tasted unbearable bitterness and caused only nausea. If you could laugh, you would have burst out laughing at the fact that all the Hawkins pharmacists now know you by name and by sight, like an old good friend. While Lucas and Mike exchanged worried glances, and Dustin tried to hide the pills away unnoticed, you buried yourself deeper into the ground. You were drowning in pain, and even sitting in the bathroom up to your elbows in blood, it seemed to you that everything that was happening was unreal. As if tomorrow you would wake up again, covered with a prickly blanket, and Eddie would grumble that you were too dependent on coffee.

You really didn't want to go to the party. You knew who would be there and knew that seeing them once again would be a sophisticated torture, a new kind of masochism. But Dustin begged you to come all week, even during one of the attempts he managed to cry. You enthusiastically praised his acting skills, but did not promise anything. You didn't know how to pretend, and it was useless in front of Eddie — he read your emotions like a book.

Listening to the pathetic attempts of insults from a classmate, you mentally made a note never to follow Dustin Henderson's lead again in your life.

After an impressive number of nervous breakdowns this month, you were ready to swear that you were going to get angry and break his nose.

— I've endured Munson's company for so long, and he chose a prettier female? — the guy drawled, pretending to be pitiful, shaking his head.

— One more word, asshole, and I'll tell the head teacher about who really throws vulgar letters to the girls in the lockers. — you made a mocking grimace and pushed a classmate in the chest, freeing up a place for yourself to pass.

What was said was a real bluff, but you still hit the mark — you understood from the very beginning who was the sickest pervert in their school. Fleetingly looking up in the direction where the company of their club was standing, you raised your eyebrows in surprise. Eddie wasn't there anymore.

***

Can you imagine, some hero of our school kicked that freak who was climbing up to the girls at the party! — Dustin exclaimed enthusiastically in a conversation with you, almost jumping up from an overabundance of emotions — His nose is broken and, it seems, something else, but this idiot doesn't even remember who it was!

You let out a laugh, covering your mouth with the hand. You were rather amused not by the fact that your yesterday's abuser got what he deserved, but by how elated Dustin looked. His eyes shone with genuine joy, as if he was the one who dealt with your classmate. Gently patting the boy on the head, you lifted the corners of your lips, but your sickly look did not disappear, judging by how hard Henderson squeezed your hand.

— You should tell him. — Dustin said slowly, trying to gauge your reaction. — Your silence is too expensive, it can't go on like this.

You raised your head to the sky, barely restraining the urge to burst into shameful tears. You missed the old days so much, the late-night conversations and warm hugs, his voice, which gave off a strange but attractive hoarseness in the early morning, his virtuoso guitar playing and the same virtuoso jokes in the most difficult times. But your respected Eddie's choice, even if it wasn't you.

— At first I thought he was just not interested in a relationship with anyone. — you laughed hysterically, causing Dustin to shiver through his body. — And now it turned out that he was just interested in Chrissy. She's good, they're both incredibly lucky. I was just imagining things in my head, and then I believed it myself. Idiot.

***

— Something's going on with you. — Munson muttered, asserting rather than asking, tentatively touching your haggard cheek with his hand. — Have you been crying? I can make coffee.

You jerked as if from a blow, forcing Eddie to immediately remove his palm and look at his best friend in complete incomprehension. Frankly speaking, now your words about intensive preparation for exams seemed to the guy the most obvious lie in the world.

How could he believe you? You had never been able to lie plausibly.

— Just tell me the name of the person who upset you. You can only use the first syllable, I'll just deal with all the similar ones. Just don't be silent, I'm asking you, let's solve this together and discuss it.

Eddie's words hurt and unexpectedly pricked the heart, recalling the fiery speech of you after you learned about his new job related to the sale of substances. Munson's concern tormented the soul, because it was connected only with warm feelings for a friend.

— I fell in love. — you confessed with tragic anguish in your voice, gritting her teeth. — If you were in my place, you would cry too.

You can't tell him. It cannot spoil those precious relationships that have been scrupulously built over so many years. Can't interfere with his happiness, his future. It would be cruel and heartless towards the most native part of her broken soul.

— I'll bet I'll never cry because of some girl. You're wasting your energy and strength on unnecessary thoughts about some jerk, just forget it. — despite the joking tone, it was clear how much the guy was worried. — Let's have a coffee with you, and I also found a cool cassette with an interesting movie. Faster, faster, faster.

Eddie deftly picked up his friend in his arms, spun around the trailer and, not paying the slightest attention to your protests, threw you right on the wide sofa, throwing pillows. You laughed, leaning your head back on the soft blanket and with an expression of hopeless love watched Munson leave.

— I bet! — she shouted, sniffing and jumping under the blanket. — One day you will cry because you can't be with a cool girl, absolutely everyone goes through this stage.

The answer to you were a playful laugh from the kitchen.

***

And then Chrissy Cunningham died. A charming girl with deep blue eyes, who quickly became the soul of the whole company, was declared dead, and Eddie became the first suspect. Most of the school were very willing to believe in his guilt, without even trying to reflect. How convenient it is when you can legitimately justify your hatred, isn't it. You were barely deterred by Dustin from your attempts to lash out at every schoolboy who spread rumors with sadistic pleasure, throwing more and more accusations towards Munson. You would tear them all apart and never regret it.

Eddie looked terribly broken, and at the slightest glance at him, you already wanted to cry. His confused, faded eyes looked through you, somewhere far away, as if on that fateful day. He didn't talk much, avoided eye contact, and he wasn't joking at all. With all his appearance, the guy showed that it was better not to ask him about anything. You weren't going to.

— I believe you. — you said firmly, sitting down next to your friend. — Whatever you say, I know it's true, and I'm on your side anyway. If the police need my testimony, then no problem, you won't be charged for something you didn't do. I won't let you.

Eddie didn't say anything, although you didn't expect an answer, in silence he put his head on your shoulder and closed his eyes. Now it became much more difficult to stay in the usual position, but you persevered, despite the discomfort. If this is what you can do for him, then you are ready to sit like this all night, weightlessly touching his curly hair with your palm.

After learning about the true cause of Chrissy's death the next day, you thought that she was overexcited and delusional hallucinations began. But not believing in the existence of Vecna was equivalent to not believing all your friends who looked frighteningly serious. To come to terms with the fact that it is necessary to save the city, you were helped by several doses of sedatives and a good slap to herself in front of the bathroom mirror. Risking your life was scary to the point of trembling at the knees, but you would not forgive yourself if children started fighting instead of you.

***

— If there is a need to choose me or him, you choose him. — you narrowed your eyes threateningly, turning to Dustin. — If Eddie starts being a hero, you take him in your arms and run as fast as you can. Without. Looking back.

A couple of minutes ago, the conversation between Munson and you did not end very well — they did not want to take you into the team, so you screamed and defended her position during the entire dialogue with Eddie. You didn't even know what was more offensive — the fact that everyone approved Dustin's candidacy without any problems, or the fact that the rest were able to convince the adamant guy.

In any case, you trusted Henderson. The boy has a mind and definitely will not climb his chest into the embrasure for any reason, doubts of this type were only about Munson, who recently frightened the girl with his behavior. You did not put pressure on the guy and did not ask for details — he described Chrissy's death in a few words, and they were enough to imagine the degree of horror of any person in his place.

There was no question of a confession of feelings after the incident. You were disgusted at the thought that you would thereby try to replace Cunningham. You had never been such a bright girl.

— I've known Eddie for a very long time, so I can say with confidence that he's much more selfless than you think. — there was a silence, and Dustin shook his head thoughtfully. — Just don't let him be stupid, I'll deal with the rest. I have the keys to the trailer, we will close and not let him run to the feat.

Henderson agreed, ignoring the bad feeling in his chest. — You'll owe me something delicious.

***

The flying toothy creatures were the most disgusting thing you have ever seen. They made nauseating sounds, cutting the ear, and were barely perceptible because of their speed. After Eddie successfully attracted the attention of these monsters, you gently pushed Dustin in the shoulder, forcing him to distract from his thoughts.

— Too early. — the boy waved off, not even deigning to look at his friend. — We're running in thirty seconds. Stay where you are.

You ignored Henderson's commanding tone, already knowing what kind of beating you would give him after. You felt like an adult, of course. You would have been happy to believe it if the commander-in-chief of their company hadn't had his knees shaking while he counted down the remaining time.

— Let's go! — Dustin shouted, turning to Eddie, who had already managed to react and start escaping. — Faster, faster!

You swung your homemade spear with force and pierced through one of the monsters aiming at the boy's back. Deliberately slowing down a little to see the others, you noticed how Eddie also slowed down. Our gazes met, and Munson narrowed his eyes disapprovingly, grabbing you by the palm, and then pushing you forward. Dustin could have sworn that his wayward friends had just mentally exchanged something very secret. You could tell by the eyes.

— I'll run after you and Dustin, it's not up for discussion.

Well.. it's started.

***

Demonic creatures almost in a matter of seconds bit into the surface of their shelter, trying to get inside. It took you a lot of willpower to fight the growing panic — the creatures would burst in from second to second.

— Dustin, come on up! — Eddie took the initiative, constantly shifting his gaze from the entrance to the trailer to his friends. — Y\N, you're next.

You knew Munson's emotions too well for his behavior not to arouse suspicion in you. He was thinking about something feverishly, and you didn't like it.

— Now it's my turn to be the last. — you replied coldly, swallowing nervously. Dustin, upstairs, frowned at the bridge of his nose in utter incomprehension.

Eddie grimaced with displeasure, shuddering all over from the sharp impact of the monsters on the roof. He gently grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned slightly towards you, matching your height. His dark brown eyes looked so pleading for the first time.

— Please. Please, for the first and last time.

And she gave in.

Having barely climbed the rope, if the rags tied together can be called that, you caught your breath hard, putting your hand to the chest. Henderson breathed a sigh of relief, feeling joy because of the successful resolution of the conflict. And then he screamed.

Damn Eddie Munson cut the rope and threw back the mattress, depriving himself and his friends of the opportunity to go to another world. Only here you didn't calculate a little what an enraged you is capable of.

— He's fucked up. — you whispered, convulsively building a tall structure of chairs, pillows and other objects at hand. — Jump after me, I'll lay you a mattress on the other side. Everything is as agreed yesterday.

The boy nodded eagerly. And you were ready to give him a bonus for the fact that he never asked stupid questions.

It was very painful to land, but there was no time left to feel sorry for yourself. Eddie did not have time to leave the trailer, bending down for his previously discarded weapon. Probably, he did not expect the appearance of friends, because when you fell, who completely knocked off your knees, Munson cursed loudly, rushing to you.

— Dustin! — you took advantage of the guy's hitch and deftly pushed the mattress into place, hoping that Henderson managed to climb onto a pile of chairs. And so it happened — the boy fell next to you a second later, and then clung tightly to Munson.

— Are you crazy?! — Dustin shouted, deafening absolutely everyone present. — Where did you climb, you idiot, I knew it, I knew it!

The trailer swayed, already yielding strongly to the pressure of the bats, who did not stop scratching their claws on the roof. You pursed your lips and looked at the two people you loved, blood began to pound deafeningly in your temples. You had come to this feeling long before today, it was just a good moment to admit it.

The last thing you saw before you ran out of the house and locked the front door was his brown eyes.

***

You didn't remember exactly how you ended up on Eddie's lap. It seems that he moved you to him from the damp ground, unintentionally dropping cold tears on the pale face of you. They gave at least a little of the desired coolness — You felt as if your body was burning with fire.

— Remember, you and I bet that you would never cry because of a girl. — you smiled radiantly, tears stood out at the corners of your eyes, — So you lost, Munson. You owe me one wish.

Eddie couldn't smile back at you. With shaking hands, he held the bleeding wound on your stomach tightly, as if it could really help somehow. Your body was wounded through and through.

— I agree, I agree, just let you make me a wish tomorrow. — Munson obediently nodded, his hoarse voice trembled treacherously. — Let me make coffee tomorrow, and you make a wish, we haven't watched the movie yet.

Mary shook her head slightly reproachfully, touching the guy's wet cheek with a barely moving hand. Eddie immediately clung to her palm, blissfully closing his eyes and exhaling raggedly.

— No, I'll make my wish now. — you gently objected, noticing how Manson frowned in disbelief, hope was still burning in his eyes. — You should meet a good one in the future, such as Chrissy, who can make you happy. You have to give her love and never, ever leave her alone, because without you she will be unbearable. I must not regret anything and continue to play the guitar. You haven't forgotten that our band is playing next Friday, have you?

Your breathing became very rapid, as you had to spend a lot of energy on such a large number of words. You smiled bitterly when a thick veil suddenly covered her eyes. Everything was obvious.

— I've already met a girl, I don't need another one. — Eddie protested in despair, but only a hoarse voice escaped from his throat. He realized that Carter hadn't looked him in the eye for a long time, and this realization finally finished him off—Chrissy asked me to meet her for show, because her ex couldn't calm down in any way.

You open your mouth in confusion, feeling a familiar metallic taste on your tongue. The tears had long since ended, so you could only shudder soundlessly in the arms of a loved one, rocking you from side to side, as if lulling you to sleep.

— She will laugh when I tell her what I have lost in my life. — the attempt to smile again ended with a cough with blood, Munson bent over you even more, gently stroking her face with his palm.

— No, you won't tell her. — he clenched his teeth tightly, stubbornly unwilling to give in. — You must be the first to congratulate me on graduating from the damn school, you said so yourself. I'm a jerk and I'm a coward because I was terrified of your rejection, and then you started to get tired of studying for exams, and I thought it would be selfish to burden you with something else. Let's go to the movies this weekend, huh?

You felt a terrible drowsiness, which was almost impossible to fight. It rolled in waves, confusing absolutely all thoughts and making it difficult to concentrate. The only thing you regretted was that you had lost the opportunity to see Eddie one last time before succumbing to the desire to fall asleep.

— Kiss me. — you whispered with your lips, subconsciously feeling the rapid approach of something inexplicable.

His lips were soft, but really icy. You squeezed your eyes shut with boundless pleasure, feeling Eddie's palms on your face. Gentle touches again and again awakened that sweet thrill in the chest that always arose in his presence.

— I'm happy. — you said on an exhale, without opening your eyes. — Because I'm in the arms of my first and last love.

Eddie Munson will never fulfill your wish.

[kkongdakz]

“ WOODEN BLOCK TOWER. ” ft. shen ricky

ricky x gn!reader, genre : angst with a little bit of fluff, warning : none, wc : 1,071

🎧 alex & sierra — little do you know

relationships are built like wooden block towers : little by little, cube after cube, taking care not to bring it all crashing down — it's what your mother always taught you, and what you've always put into practice.

so ever since you were young, you've always applied this rule : don't rush into relationships, beat them piece by piece, until you've built a solid cube castle. that's what you've always tried to do, until ricky came into your life.

he burnt out the stages and moved the cubes you were stubbornly trying to assemble, breaking into your castle before it's even finished. he wanted to venture on the crazy adventure that is the road to your heart, running every red light to tug at the heartstrings of falling in love, even before you get to know him properly.

in the end, you decided that changing your habits was probably not a bad thing, that taking risks was sometimes a good thing. you had to get out of your comfort zone to live a little more freely, break down the barriers around your heart to let others get closer.

so you let ricky guide you and make you fall in love as fatally as possible. he was your idyll, the boy who was able to break through your shell to give you a taste of the goodness of love : butterflies in your stomach, warmth in the hollow of your heart, your eyes completely entranced. he made you love sharing a milkshake with someone, one glass but two straws, holding hands while walking down the street, early-morning cuddles in the warmth of your sheets.. and all those things that two people with a heart beating for each other share.

you didn't think it was possible to have so many new feelings at once — but ricky brought you everything you wanted to discover bit by bit, in a fraction of a second. he made your heart beat, your eyes shine, and he occupied all your thoughts. you were like his doll — as he liked to call you, but he treated you like a true queen.

but you should have known that this relationship was like walking on eggshells.

little by little, the cubes of your castle collapsed, and your heart with it. ricky seemed more and more distant, preferring to go out with his friends than watch a movie with you. his interests seemed much more different from yours than before, it was as if his whole personality had been reversed, like the ricky you fell in love with was completely gone.

so today's night, sitting on your living room floor in near total darkness with your cheeks wet with dry tears, you were almost biting your nails bloody, trying to understand why and how you could have let this happen. you waited silently for your boyfriend to came back home, watching the hours tick by on the big clock. 2am.. 3am.. 4am and the click of the door brought you out of your thoughts, your eyes instantly meeting his.

« why aren't you in bed? » he whispered, as if afraid of waking someone, even though it was just the two of you in the apartment. sniffing gently so as not to arouse suspicion, you pull the plaid placed over your shoulders, more against you, « i was waiting for you. i didn't want to sleep alone. »

a sigh left ricky's lips as he discarded his jacket, tossing it nonchalantly onto the sofa. the boy dropped to the ground beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and both your gazes now plunged into the void. « i'm sorry, » he said suddenly, his fingers unconsciously brushing yours, and you felt a few tears prickle your eyes, « i was with the boys and didn't see the time go by. i should have warned you. »

he should have warned you about a lot of things : like the fact that he was going to change overnight, without letting you see an ounce of the old ricky. shaking your head as you watched your hands nervously fidget with the edge of the blanket covering you, you couldn't ignore your heart which squeezed painfully in your chest.

« you should have warned me you were going to become someone else. » your voice, usually so shy, was now brimming with a certain assurance that didn't shock the boy beside you. he knew he was in the wrong, and trying to defend himself wouldn't change the fact that you were absolutely right. he'd only wanted to show you his good side, to make sure you liked him at his best and didn't go away from him — but he realized that making you discover his bad habits later was clearly not his best idea. you were slipping through his net, and he didn't like that at all.

« i didn't mean for it to happen this way, » he says out of the blue, trying to get your attention, « i promise i'll fix the mess i've made. »

but you were skeptical : how were you supposed to put all your trust on his shoulders a second time, when he'd already destroyed what little you'd managed to build? you didn't want a relationship rocked by secrets, you just wanted an honest and healthy one.

but despite your desire to put the cubes back in place all alone, you wanted to give him a chance to help you do it.

so you let your head fall against his shoulder, this simple contact causing ricky to turn his gaze towards you, silently observing your face in search of some kind of answer. you now had his undivided attention, and that's what mattered most to you.

« don't be a stranger, okay? » you say softly. you couldn't see him, but you dared to imagine that a smile had formed on his lips at the very moment his arms slipped around you. your back was now practically glued to his torso, and you could feel his heart beating against your shoulder blade : it beat very quickly.

« i promise, » he began to say before placing a kiss on the top of your head, his fingers caressing your hair in the process, « i'll never become a stranger. »

and you decided to believe his words, adding a new cube to your shared castle.

·˚ ༘ taglist (fill out this form to be added to the taglist) : @invuwrld @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @snowflakemoon3 @watamotee33 @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @ilovechanhee @shiningstar-byulxx @wtfhyuck @zuzu-the-simp @shiyachime @beomibeom @neroislost @lviee @taegicarus

[taste-thewaste]

fic pride tag

thank you so much for the tags my lovely friends <3 @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

this is going to be interesting because I have to be nice to myself and proud of my work lol let's goooo (all of these are firstprince because i'm vanilla)

1. Gorgeous. Another short little dude in my T Swift series, inspired by the song. This is the first line, and I've always loved it:

They are in a small bar in Paris, drunk on French 75s and the nearness of each other, staring at the Eiffel Tower when Alex starts making fun of him.

2. i wanna touch your body (so fucking electric). my beloved first smut fic!! so proud of how this one turned out actually. here's my favorite bit of the boys sexting each other

Later that night, when Henry is safely sequestered in his rooms and able to do what he likes, he opens his text thread with Alex and sends a barb of his own.  Thinking about the way your dick looks when it’s curved against your belly. You’re so fucking pretty.  Alex’s phone goes off, and he looks away from the skillet that he’s cooking chicken in to check. He reads Henry’s text and his cheeks flame, a bolt of lightning heads straight to his groin, and his dick stirs.  Pretty? Yes. You have a pretty cock, Alex. Sue me.   Alex moans, and he can’t think of what to say because his mind is flushed with want and need. Luckily, Henry seems to know this and follows up.  I want your pretty cock in my pretty mouth so I can hear you beg.  Alex’s dick is painfully hard, and he’s grateful for just a moment, in his haze of arousal, that he’d swapped his characteristically tight jeans for sweatpants when he’d gotten home. He manages to tap out a response before he starts taking care of himself. I’d be begging so loud that we’d rattle the ghosts of all those dead gay kings in that castle. I’d peel the wallpaper with my screams for you, baby.   Alex finishes coming as soon as the smoke alarm in the kitchen goes off. He’s burned the chicken.

3. i could've danced all night. henry tutu fic!! this fic is so filthy, and i love this bit

“You…your dick is, uh, ahhhh, cock, and…” is all Alex manages to spit out before throwing his head back and abandoning all pretense of sexy talk. He can’t focus on anything but the feeling of Henry’s giant hands on him ( seriously , is anything about this man tiny?) and how close he is to coming.  “My ‘dick is cock’, eh? That’s eloquent. Pure poetry, love,” Henry says with a low, throaty laugh, feeling himself going even harder than he already had been. Alex cock drunk is his favorite thing; the idea that he can fuck Alex stupid does something to him. He strokes even faster, shutting Alex up before he can even attempt some kind of comeback.

4. only bought this dress so you could take it off. alex in a little black dress and red bottoms! utter filth. here's my favorite part.

Alex knows what’s coming soon, who’s coming soon, and the thought brings a grin to his face. “Look at you, so out of your mind that you’re reduced to fucking a carpet because you just can’t get enough. It hurts, doesn’t it, you little slut? It hurts but it feels good, it feels so good , doesn’t it?” He punctuates each ‘good’ with a dig of the heels, and then Henry screams, fucking screams like his spirit is being wrenched from his body.  He waits until Henry’s finished—he can tell by the way he is just lying there, spent, his body heaving and out of breath—and then he steps off. The vague part of Alex that is still himself underneath the fog of arousal that’s clouded his head wants to pull Henry up, clean him off, make sure he’s okay. That part, however, is locked in the recesses of his brain, and he wants to keep going because it’s his turn now, and by the look Henry gives him when he sits up, he knows that, too.  “Come here.” Alex snaps his fingers again, and Henry starts to rise to his feet. “Did I say to stand up? I said to come here. ” Henry stops, looks up at Alex like he is confused, but he isn’t, and Alex knows it. He drops to his knees and crawls forward, his knees pushing through the mess he’s made without even thinking, moves forward until he is right in front of Alex.

5. turn the desert to glass (you would be the one). henry's tummy fic, the fic I am most proud of. i worked so hard on it!! here's two of my favorite parts bc i can't pick just one

After a few moments, Alex rests one hand on the lower part of Henry’s belly, where he’s the softest, and leans over to grab another spoonful of mousse. “You look like the most pampered, spoiled, overfed little prince right now,” he says in a low voice as the bite of rich dessert disappears down Henry’s pretty throat.

and

A tiny sound squeaks past Henry’s lips, a sound he can’t control but knows will drive Alex mad, a sound that means more . Alex slips a finger inside of him, and another, opens him up like he is a book he’s been dying to read, and Henry bares down shamelessly, his own hand twisted in the sheets at his side. 

6. Your Lipstick, His Collar. my multi chap emo early 2000s college au being co-written with my bestie! this fic is so. much. fun. and here's a bit I love from one of my chapters:

“Here, you dropped this.” Alex’s iPod, suddenly pinker than anything in the world had a real right to be, is being handed to him. Alex looks up finally and his stomach does a flip as Henry’s eyes, as blue as any ocean he’s ever seen, lock with his. Now that he’s up close, he can see the remnants of yesterday’s eyeliner still smudged around Henry’s eyes, and he wants to know why and how and when and where he’s worn it. He wants to sit next to him and watch him put it on. He wants to watch Henry squeeze into those jeans that are really too tight to be allowed, really too tight to be anything more than a major tease, and he wants to…oh, he has to stop thinking right fucking now because things are going to get even more awkward if he doesn’t. “Thanks,” Alex says quietly, trying to not think about the feeling of Henry’s fingers against his as he takes the iPod. They’re soft and gentle, and all he can imagine is the delicate way they must hold an eyeliner pencil. “I like that song,” Henry says, and Alex can’t handle the way the words come out of his mouth, the way they fall from his lips in the lightest, most dignified accent, like the gentle flapping of a bird’s wing. “What?” Alex blurts stupidly, the word falling from his lips with a thud and rolling down the sidewalk like a giant turd. Christ, he’s an idiot.

7. take me out, and take me home. my newest, my lil baby!

Alex tells him the things he’s never told anyone, and Henry places a hand on his knee while he talks. He is quiet and still and holds Alex’s words with so much reverence and care. In return, Henry tells him the things he’s most afraid of, the things that have hurt him the most. He stares Alex in the eyes and gives him pieces of himself that he has never given to anyone. 

tagging: @england-would-fall @henrysfox @agostobuwan @stratocumulusperlucidus @priincebutt

@piratefalls @doublecheekedkinard those are my 7 but please feel free to use this open tag and tag me if you want to do it!!

[sollucets]

rowan’s gmmtv2024 report:

hi everyone im back from my interview (i dont know yet but i’m hopeful, cross your fingers for me) and im supposed to take a nap before work but i have to yell a bit first you understand

(positives)

1. pluto……. oh my GOD

you guys dont get it i was Really into midnight museum june. i tried my best to watch a lot of things i really didnt like just for namtan tipnaree. i like her So Lots. and namtanfilm i just fully….. had no idea. absolutely none. but it works!! i love it!!! the plot is bonkers (your dead(?) twin was the girlfriend of a now-blind girl that you're lying to now?) and under normal circumstances i wouldnt be interested but namtanfilm Killed this trailer and i also know im going to have Bad second couple syndrome re: whatevers going on with ciize. i love ciize so much.

this was so so soooo good n unexpected . girls kissing onscreen at My gmmtv announcement? :') plus their bathtub scene & that princesses moment.. yeah. that fucks

2. my golden blood

photo proof of me going mildly ballistic about the rumors last week. i did indeed say a few unholy things shortly after this. and to have it be a VAMPIRE BL? gods save us all im going to be so annoying. i was a twilight kid you know it im going to shovel this into my face with abandon

im so down for vampire au fanfic main character princess gawin honestly. wanted by supernatural creatures for his sexy special blood! bridal carried! blood on his university top!!!! i love it i love it i love it

is this objectively a tad embarrassing? yes. are the special effects painfully cheesy? yes. do i care? no 💜

3. peaceful property

this was just so fun to watch the trailer :’) i really love the found family vibes i was getting plus the over the top ghost shenanigans. i’m a casual tay tawan enjoyer & i do really love jan (alex&nim / newjan in warp effect were very fun to me). the trailer felt very warm n fun and bright, so im down. im into it

4. the trainee

we are in “sure i’ll watch that” territory now instead of extreme excitement but i thought this trailer was really fun & cute. i love view, obviously, so the amount of screentime her character got was good for me, and im 👀👀 about those girls. and offgun’s relationship seemed really fun & genuine :’) this seems nice! dont let me down!

5. wandee goodday

i think this looks fun! its a higher heat but still silly, which suits, and it appears to have fake dating which is a weakness trope of mine. also this is one of my bingo squares (adult non-office bl) so yes absolutely ill watch this. thank you p’golf but Please can we get podd Something this time

(mixed feelings)

6. kidnap

i have notably dissonant emotions about ohm pawat (lets not get into it) but i do actually enjoy this kind of forced proximity plotline even if i fear what theyll do with the opening kidnapper/kidnapee relationship. i feel… Something…. about this? yes. something is being felt. there is hope for me here, maybe, perhaps. really though if they want to keep him they should give ohm a smiley role again someday. it feels like everything ive seen him in since bb is all…. violence generational trauma death etc (for the worse imo)

7. gemfourth kiekoi

i think they can do it and it’ll be cute... gemfourth suit aoki and iida well. its just…. i dont know, i have an instinctive ‘noooo’ reaction to this remake. i like kiekoi soso much and i worry a lot. it does not have the exact charm for me.

also for me i wanted something a little different out of gemfourth. they have the range. but again, i do think theyll do well enough with this? so i'm mostly just being..... idk. :<

8. we are

i will at the very least attend e1! but this is too many couples for me if im honest, and they dont seem to be gunning to do anything super interesting. i do love aouboom & i like pondphuwin a lot (i Love pond’s hair in this trailer btw bless) but …. im not invested enough to make it interesting on its own. and [pouty baby voice] i wanted aouboom leads

(negative but ill try to be brief)

9. ossan’s love (the most negative of them all. look away. im so sorry earthmix i love you)

you guys are going to give earth pirapat a fucking complex before he even turns 30. he BETTER be playing haruta (i know hes not). this is just so silly!!! gmmtv doesnt deserve to have this one! this is not right for so many reasons but the most important is that they have no actual correctly aged men. no no no i am so so opposed. and theres not even a trailer 😰 you guys cut that shit out

10. ploy’s yearbook

looks…okay, its giving 55:15 a little bit, but the filmjoong adopted siblings romance threw me so violently that i doubt ill even consider touching it. absolutely not, you guys. gmmtv failing to be normal about siblings yet again! even though i like several of these actresses a lot i really.. i cant do it. also..... is earth a high schooler or is he forty.,, i feel like they're gaslighting us somehow. pairing him with namtan will not improve this situation for me you can't get out of it so easy

(miscellaneous extra commentary no one asked for)

11. only boo (?)

this looks cute? but not in a way where ill watch it unless i have nothing else going on. also unless im mistaken... was that milkbook??? innovation. love it

12. high school frenemies

those boys should be being gay about it instead of whatever shit they're actually doing. very nearly gayer than some of the bl trailers. i do not like this kind of genre thing but viewjune are there so ill still at least consider it.

13. summer nights

incredible how little i can care about something so fast. i'm not like, seethingly angry or anything but it's incredible, truly, how fast any trace of interest dropped away

i dont have anything else to say about the trailers! i will not be addressing the music here as it pains me in many ways.

finally, the personal elephant in the room: no firstkhaotung at all :< you guys know what i am, so obviously i indulged in a little dramatics about it this morning but i do understand. there's a part two that we've now been thoroughly assured they'll be present in, and also they have a show that's actively airing right now, so i'm not too worried. i did sort of expect a minor role for one or both of them at the very least though? but if they actually get a break out of this i'll be happy. please rest boys

(also khaotung on school rangers is, objectively, hilarious. sorry baby they're gonna make you do tasks)

okay! that's all! perhaps nobody wanted to know this

[guillermosfamiliar]

Guess who finally finished chapter two of her Firstprince wip (after how many weeks? lol) I am in endless awe of how much you all can accomplish. I admire all of you in an insurmountable way!

once again, thank you to @indestructibleheart @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @junebugclaremontdiaz for the tag!

Alex goes for a run.

He runs, and he runs, and he runs. 

He keeps running until every muscle in his body burns and screams at him to stop. 

His knees are about to buckle. 

His heart is beating so hard and fast that it hurts. 

Alex only stops when the toe of his sneaker catches on uneven ground.

He doesn’t fall.

 He almost falls, but he doesn’t fall. 

He stumbles. 

His stomach cramps painfully and he barely makes it to the edge of the sidewalk before expelling pulp and bile in agonizing droves. 

Alex isn’t sure how much time passes before he can hear a stranger asking him if he needs help. 

Alex stands, drool sliding down his chin, and he smiles thinly. 

He says, “I’m Okay.”

He says, “I just pushed myself too far.” 

You can find the first chapter here =)

Tagging some of the usual cool kids: @mulderscully @ninzied @tinyarmedtrex @barbiediaz @dreamsinthewitchouse

[kiwiana-writes]

me back in the inbox 😆 anyway, 32 for the hand touching ask/prompt!

You're welcome in my inbox anytime, pal title of my sex tape. Hand holding 32: not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands.

LOOKING LIKE OUR BODIES MIGHT FUSE for @hullomoon [rated T, 637 words]

[You can read this here on AO3 if you'd prefer!]

Once everybody knows about them, things change. Of course they do. But perhaps not as much as Henry might have expected.

They spent the better part of a year keeping any public contact carefully, painfully platonic. An arm slung over a shoulder, the clasp of a handshake, the occasional friendly hug. Of course, once they got behind closed doors it was another story; hands roaming freely, soft touches to the face, pulling each other close. A very clear delineation, on either side of a series of doors, as to how they conducted themselves with one another.

After the story broke, there was the whole media circus, and with that media circus came the expectation for them to look… well. Loved-up was the phrase Alex used, and it does as well as any other. They smiled and gritted their teeth and posed for photos that said relationship without also saying inappropriate, and so people started to get used to seeing them as a couple.

But they still are who they are. Henry’s grandmother doesn’t approve of public displays of affection even for those members of the family whose partners aren’t the same gender as them and also brown, and while she may be cautious of incurring Catherine’s wrath, she’s still made it very clear that there are limits to her lenience. All of which has meant that while people are no longer surprised to see him and Alex in each other’s company, there’s still a real demarcation between their relationship in public and in private.

Which is why, Henry supposes, he can’t stop looking at the paparazzi photo.

They’ve only been in the brownstone for a fortnight and already Henry feels like he can breathe in a way he hasn’t felt for… well, for quite some time. Of course there’s still media attention and not-so-surreptitious phone cameras when they’re out and about, but it’s nothing compared to the bottom-feeding media back in England, so Henry can deal with it just fine.

The photo, though. They’re a few blocks away from their house, and Alex is chatting to a couple: one with an undercut that doesn’t quite tame a wild set of curls, the other with chin-length hair dyed pink and yellow and blue. On the other side of the pavement, Henry is clutching David’s leash as David relieves himself against a tree. Due to the photographer being camped out across the street and clearly trying not to be spotted, it’s David’s bathroom habits that have somehow become the centre of the photograph.

(Poor David. It may not quite be up there with having one’s private thoughts about being fat and sexually conquered splashed all over the newspapers for everyone’s entertainment, but it’s an indignity nonetheless.)

It’s not David’s cocked leg that has Henry hooked, though, nor is it the memory of the lovely conversation they’d had with the couple who’d stopped them in the street; contrary to how the photograph makes it look, he did actually join them once David was quite finished. It’s the space between the Henry and Alex of the photograph: arms stretched out and fingers tangled together, effortless and unthinking. Unconcerned if anyone—or everyone—saw it.

He doesn’t remember, at any point, thinking I’m going to hold Alex’s hand now. They were just… out walking David, and it happened. As natural as breathing.

And there’s something about it that makes Henry want to keep it close, press it into a scrapbook and pull it out again and again. Because after the leak, everyone used words like sex scandal and affair and dalliance.

But this is them, too. Two people holding hands without even thinking about it, out for a morning stroll.

It might not sell as many papers, but it’s just as much a part of their story as the rest of it.

[RWRB - prompt me]

[player1064]

for drabbles just anything with sir alex finding out about carraville it’s never mentioned enough and just the idea of him or keano finding out and being all ‘we don’t mind you’re gay but a scouser really??’ is hilarious to me :)

YESSSS I love fics like that you're right it's such an underused idea... I feel like keano's reaction would be funnier wheras sir alex is just like. 'i can't believe I have to deal with these stupid boys'...

here ya go!

---

“Carragher, get your filthy Scouse hands off me or I swear to god I’ll –” Gary starts, before he has to cut himself off with a gasp when Carragher’s teeth scrape the base of his throat.

Carragher looks up at him, a wicked glint in his eye, “or you’ll what?”

“Fuck, I don’t –” he feels himself squirming under Carragher’s touch, desperate for more – just more, but painfully aware of where they are, of how little time they have before someone notices they’re gone. “You fucking bastard, how many times’ve I gotta tell ya, not at Old Trafford.”

“Oh, so you’re fine fuckin’ me in the physio room at Anfield, but I can’t even kiss ya when we’re in Manc territory?”

“Like kissin’ is all you’re angling for, greedy fuck,” argues Gary, pulling him in for a rough kiss to prove his point. Or maybe just to kiss him. He does have lovely lips, when he’s not using them to talk.

Carragher presses a palm to the front of Gary’s shorts, his thumb brushing gently over the hard line of his dick. He smirks into the kiss, murmurs, “like it’s all you’re anglin’ for, you slag.”

Gary almost relents. You can hardly blame him, he’s not got off in weeks, and if beating Liverpool at Old Trafford’s not a turn on then he doesn’t know what is.

Except, except, he hears someone yelling in a familiar Scottish accent through the wall, and he freezes in place.

“Carragher,” he bites out.

Carragher, to his credit, immediately removes his hands from Gary’s body and takes a step back. “I know, I know. I’ll go first, shall I?”

“No, ‘cause then he’ll see – then he’ll know we were both –”

“Fine, so you go.”

“But then what if he asks what I were doin’ in here, and he looks, and you –”

“Oh my god, lad, make a decision! Your gaffer’s lookin’ for ya, you’re gonna get a bollocksing if you don’t get out there soon, so go.”

“Fine. Fine, yeah. I’ll go,” he says, and he goes to step out the door of the storage room only to be met with –

“Hiya, boss,” he squeaks.

Sir Alex looks at him, frowning, then he looks into the room behind him and Gary finds himself wishing he could just sink into the floor.

“So this is what y’think is more important than the team talk, then?”

“Um,” says Gary.

Sir Alex lets out a long, slow, breath, then fixes Gary with an unreadable stare. “None of my business, Gary, but not at a game, not here, and not him. Got it?”

Gary nods, not trusting himself to speak, then sheepishly follows Sir Alex back to the dressing room, sparing an apologetic glance back towards Carragher.

Once he’s out the shower and getting dressed, his phone pings with a text and he flips it open, fighting back a smile when he sees who it’s from.

> c u @ urs l8r?

>> ofc <3

[macabrelinguine]

ooo can i ask for a scenario/hcs with yandere alex and sensitive darling where they try to (unsuccessfully) hide from him since he has his gun and seems mad

(idk if this is more more specific 😔) - 🐝 anon

This is perfect! <3

You were HUNGRY. Alex had been gone for most of the day, and he kept all the ready-made food locked up. You’d cook something, as the lower cabinets were full of cookable food, but the oven needed a key to open. control freak. You had gotten upset earlier and spilled the uncooked food all over the floor. You recalled when you were first allowed out of the room he made for you. It was in the basement, but the door was right at the bottom of the stairs, which you figured out the one time you pushed past Alex to try and get away. You tripped on the stairs. That was the last time you tried to run, that was for sure. You still weren’t allowed in the living room, and you looked out at now. Then you heard the keys in the many, many locks. Alex was back! Finally, you could probably get him to unlock the cupboard so you could get food. But then you caught a glance of him. He looked mad. And he was waving around the gun. You saw the mess at your feet, and your body made the decision to hide before your brain could catch up. you squirmed your way into the cupboard, closing the door behind you. Alex walked into the kitchen, grumbling. Then it occurred to you that because of what was spilled on the floor, it would be painfully obvious where you were hiding. You scooted farther back, squeezing your eyes shut. Then he spoke. “Where are you..?” You heard his footsteps getting closer. “I’m not in the mood to play games.” You half considered going out of the cupboard, but…what if he didn’t notice? You’d already be in trouble for hiding. So…just sit. You heard the sound of him opening all the cabinets in a row, slowly getting closer to you. He stopped. You didn’t dare sigh in relief in case he heard. Then you heard a gunshot and screamed. He had fired into the cabinet next to you. Shit. The cabinet door in front of you slowly creaked open, and Alex was glaring at you. “Alex, I-“ you started to speak, but he cut you off. “You made a mess. Why were you in the fucking cabinet?!” You couldn’t help but burst into tears, the kitchen blurring around you. You flinched at a hand on your shoulder. Alex sighed. “It’s…alright. Just don’t do it again.”

[mignonricciardo]

What about Lance getting surprised by his girl best friend at Montreal and everyone in the garage knew except him and he’s like so oblivious about the whole thing

so I just have on thing to say — lance is so romance novel, emily henry-esque coded. he is so friends to lovers, slow burn, idiot in love without even KNOWING. (tbh he is alex nilsen)

now we’re here. lance is so excited for a home race — maple syrup and hockey and all that stuff canadians love. it’s always been a tradition that you attend the entire weekend with him, as his best friend of course. you hang out with his family, when he has girlfriends you’re still the priority for this race, you wander through the garage, he introduces you to other drivers (literally embarrasses you so bad in front of charles bc you’re starstruck). he takes so many pictures with you and of you during these weekends.

this year, it seems like the tradition will have to be put on pause when a sudden work trip comes up. he is assuring you it’s ok, but he’s genuinely so disappointed. once it’s canceled, you’re ready to tell him, but one of your friends floats the dies of surprising him, so you play along. his family knows you’ll be showing up, people on the team — they coordinated a paddock pass for you behind his back.

that Thursday media day, he’s kind of down. he texts you pictures all day as his own way of saying I miss you and I wish you were here. it’s cute — suddenly you’re like uhm I think it’s cute ??? ANYWAYYYYY you’re literally counting off the walls on Friday morning for the surprise, and his sister is blowing up your phone with constant updates about where he is and what he’s doing so you can sneak in behind his back.

now we’re in the garage, and you’re hidden in his drivers room waiting for him to get back into the garage so you can surprise him. your phone is pinging with texts from chloe to say oh my god he’s coming. you creep down the hall, peeking into the garage, and the team is all huddled around to celebrate his home race. it’s so obvious they’re hiding something (ahem, you) but Lance is literally OBLIVIOUSSSS. he doesn’t notice it one bit.

they do their little huddle, clapping and sharing hugs and handshakes and a cake his mom brought for everyone. it’s so cute, and you just think your heart is going to BURST when he’s laughing with everyone. when you pop out from the hallway, the team going quiet, Lance is literally just vibing and totally not paying attention. like HELLO IM RIGHT HERE

when he notices (finally), he lights up and you run to each other, hugging and laughing and spinning. both do you miss the looks, grins and jostling elbows of people in the garage to say “they’re totally in love — I told you”

when the videos surface of your reunion, especially the one from the team, it’s so painfully obvious the two of you are in L-O-V-E that the comments are BLOWING UPPP. other drivers and teams are even declaring you both a ship. the night after the race, when everyone else suddenly can’t stay after dinner and suspiciously leave you and lance, it’s where everything breaks down 👀