#does anyone… know where the rest of this interview can be seen?

[sissylittlefeather]

Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm on a roll with this one and I have the series planned to the end, so don't be surprised if I get the rest of these out relatively quickly. I'm excited to take you on the roller coaster that is the end of this one. But I think you'll love how it ends! Just hang in there!

Need to catch up? Masterlist here.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, implied sex, alcohol use, angst

Word count: ~2.7k

Reminder: this is FICTION. Please do not come at me if your favorite people don't act the way you think they would/should. It's called fanFICTION for a reason. Thanks 😬

She fades into the background easily, watching the feud that happens between Ann Margaret and Priscilla, her love for him never diminishing, but they never finish the conversation that they started.

******

Vivian spends the next year in abject misery. She moves to California in an attempt to get away from anything that reminds her of Elvis and try to jumpstart her acting career. That doesn't cure her lovesickness though. She misses Elvis desperately, kicking herself for wasting all that time telling him no. But then she realizes that even if they were together, he probably would've left her for Ann Margaret. The few times she does see him, it's obvious that he's smitten. This is the most in love she's ever seen him and she desperately wants to be happy for him. But she just can't. She runs through several guys before realizing that she's tired of the emptiness. She takes a vow of celibacy and tries to focus on her career and her hobbies. Writing poetry helps a little, but most of it is about Elvis so she ends up crumpling it and throwing it in a trash can or a fire. Just when she runs out of money and is about to go back to her stepfather in Germany, she stumbles upon modeling and finds herself more successful at that than acting. She throws herself into it, trying to ignore her pain. All in all, there doesn't seem to be a reason to go on, but she keeps trudging along, hoping something will change eventually.

******

Elvis spends the next year in a lovestruck bubble of happiness. Ann Margaret challenges him and enlivens him and brings out the best in him. She's everything he never knew he wanted. He knows he still has Priscilla at Graceland, and at night, after Ann has fallen asleep, he feels the guilt of leaving her behind. The promise to marry her still hangs over his head.

But in the really late hours on nights that he struggles to sleep at all, he thinks about Vivian. Where is she? What is she doing? Does she ever think about him? He knows how unfair it is to even have that thought, but it's there nonetheless. A couple of times his mind even drifts to the conversation they started and didn't finish. How might things be different if they had finished it? Would he have said no to Ann if he knew he had Viv? That's a question he can't answer.

Overall, he's happy. He's having his cake and eating it too.

And then Ann Margaret does an interview where she tells the reporter that she and Elvis have plans to get married. He knows this isn't possible, no matter how much he loves her. He has an agreement with Priscilla's family to marry her. And beyond that, he's not even sure that Ann would be the best choice for his wife. At the end of the day, she's too much like Vivian, too independent and headstrong. Too focused on her own career. That doesn't mean he wants to end things with Ann Margaret necessarily, but Priscilla doesn't give him an option. She wants the contract honored, and soon.

So Elvis ends the affair with Ann Margaret shortly after his conversation with Priscilla. He knows he's done the right thing, but that doesn't mean he isn't hurt. He sinks into a deep depression, refusing to leave his house or see anyone, including Priscilla. After a week, his Memphis mafia guys start to get really concerned. They're not sure what to do to bring him out of this funk.

Finally, one of them comes up with the idea of calling Vivian. They know he hasn't seen her in months, but she's managed his low moods before with grace and strong but subtle encouragement that eventually brought him back. She's their last hope, a desperate grasping at a final straw. They call her, hoping she'll agree to come.

******

Vivian find herself on the porch of Graceland with a grocery bag in one arm, knocking loudly with her other hand. She's not quite sure what she's doing here, why she agreed to come, but here she is. Turns out her heart can't tell him no, no matter what he's put her through.

She knocks again. She's been standing out here for almost fifteen minutes and the bag is starting to get heavy. The bottles clink together as she shifts.

"Elvis! It's me!" She breaks down and hollers through the window, hoping he will hear her. Finally, she hears movement inside the dark house. After a few more minutes the door opens just a crack.

"What are you doing here, Viv?"

"The guys called me. So I'm here. With presents." She jiggles the bag in her arms and the bottles clink again.

"I don't drink, Viv."

"Yeah? What have you got to lose?" She hears him sigh deeply and then he opens the door. He's disheveled in a way she can barely comprehend. His hair is everywhere and he clearly hasn't shaved recently. He has on a robe with no shirt underneath and pajama pants.

"Oh, Elvis."

"Don't fucking say anything." She walks through the door and sets the bag down, turning to face him. Then, she cups his cheek with her hand gently.

"Does it hurt this badly?" He breaks down and grabs her tightly, weeping on her shoulder. He whispers into her hair.

"I made such a mess, Viv." She wraps him in her arms and squeezes him tightly.

"I know, honey. But it's gonna be okay." He backs off of her and wipes his nose with his sleeve like a child.

"What are you here for?" She smiles gently.

"Well, first I'm here to clean you up and help you feel like yourself. And then we're gonna drink. Because you need a little fun." He nods and takes the hand she offers him. She leads him up the stairs to the bathroom where she starts the shower. She turns and heads towards the door, but he grabs her elbow softly.

"Please stay."

"You want me to stay in here?"

"Please." She nods and sits on the lid of the toilet, turning away as he undresses and steps into the shower. He showers and then she hears the water turn off.

"Viv, honey, can you hand me a clean towel?"

"Of course!" She grabs a luxurious black towel and hands it to him. When he steps out of the shower, he has it wrapped around his waist, his hair fluffy and wet, water droplets glistening on his shoulders. Her mouth drops a little at how sexy he looks in this vulnerable state. It takes everything in her power not to rip the towel off and take him into the bedroom and...

******

"Viv?"

"Yes! What?"

"You're staring at me."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." He smiles a little, enjoying the impact he's having on her. "You want me to blow dry your hair?"

"Yes." A relieved smile crosses his face and she seats him in the chair. As she dries it, he gives her instructions on how to do it, sounding more like himself. Next, she grabs the razor and shave soap.

"Whoa, hang on. Do you know what you're doing?" He asks, nervous.

"My stepdad broke his hand once when I was in high school. I can do this." He nods.

"Okay. I trust you." He leans his head back and she goes to work lathering up his face. She drags the razor gently over his skin, removing the hair. She's careful and meticulous and he revels in the feeling of being cared for so attentively.

Maybe she would be a good wife.

Once she finishes shaving him, he puts on a pair of fresh pajamas. Then, he tosses a pair at her.

"Get comfortable. Please."

"These are going to look ridiculous on me."

"Good." He smiles and she goes in the bathroom to change. He's thoroughly enjoying her company. He didn't realize how much he had missed her, but now she's here and his affection for her washes over him like a tidal wave. She comes out of the bathroom and sure enough, she looks silly in his giant pajamas. But something about seeing her in them makes him want to rip them off of her.

"Elvis."

"Yeah?"

"You're staring at me." He laughs for the first time in a week and gestures for her to follow him. On the way down to the tv room, he grabs the grocery bag from the foyer. It's true that he doesn't drink. But tonight? Tonight feels like a good night to break his rule.

Once they're settled on the couch in the tv room with a movie set up on the projector, he pulls the bottles out of the bag. She's got a bottle of vodka, a bottle of soda water, and a bottle of peach schnapps.

"Which one of these is for me?" He asks curiously. She laughs.

"I know you're a little bitch about alcohol, so I got you something that tastes good. The vodka is for me." He nods, smiling, and she goes to the bar, grabbing a couple of glasses. She makes them both drinks and they relax to watch the movie.

Two drinks later, Elvis is already pretty tipsy, laughing openly with his arm wrapped around her. Vivian does a couple of shots to try to catch up with him.

"Hey! I want one of those."

"No, Elvis, you really don't, baby." He snickers.

"You called me baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, I like it, honey. More pet names. Call me more pet names." She giggles, the shots finally starting to kick in.

"Baby. Honey. Sweetie. Lover boy." He laughs at the last one.

"You can't call me lover boy without being my lover, babydoll."

"Babydoll?!"

"You don't like it?" She makes another drink for each of them and Elvis throws his back quickly.

"Elvis! Slow down! I can't keep up."

"Come on, doll face, now who's being a little bitch?"

"Well, I definitely don't like little bitch." Elvis erupts in his big-joy laugh, leaning over to rest his head on her knee while he does. She finishes her drink and makes another for each of them.

"Which one do you like best, sweetheart?" He asks, swirling his drink in his glass.

"I'm not sure, babe. Which one do you like best?" She answers, taking a sip. He takes another long drink and then turns to look at her, his eyelids heavy.

"I like this, darlin'."

"The alcohol?"

"No- well, yes- but I like being here with you." All of a sudden he gets really serious. The memory of the conversation that didn't happen comes screaming back to him. He drains his glass and then sets it on the coffee table.

"What?" She looks at him inquisitively, her eyes glazed over with drunkenness.

"You 'member that conversation we were s'posed to have. 'Fore I left?" She finishes her drink and nods.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinkin' 'bout it, that's all." His southern accent comes out so much stronger when he's been drinking and it makes Viv giggle.

"What?" He asks, a wide smile on his face.

"You just sound like a good ole country boy right now." She mimics his accent and he laughs loudly again.

"I am a good ole country boy." She's lying back against the corner of the couch, so he crawls up between her legs and she puts her hands on his cheeks.

"I know. I like it." She kisses the end of his nose. Her deep-ocean eyes look into his intensely. "I love it."

She leans in slowly, pressing her lips to his. He pulls away first, pressing his forehead into hers as he hovers above her.

"Viv." He whispers. Then he backs away, his eyes flicking between hers and then down to her pretty mouth. He leans in slowly, lips parted, capturing hers in a sensuous kiss. His tongue grazes hers so gently, as if asking for permission.

Then he dives in fully, never looking back.

******

When Elvis finally starts to wake up, he crinkles his nose and whimpers. The headache is already beginning behind his eyes and he's so thirsty he feels like he might die if he doesn't get some water soon. He feels movement on his chest and opens his eyes to a head full of dark hair. That's when he remembers: Vivian. His mind races as he tries to think through what might've happened last night. He kissed her, but that's the only thing his foggy brain can grab onto. His heart skips a beat as a thought crosses his mind and he lifts the covers a little to try to assess the situation.

They're both naked. He swallows deeply and looks up at the ceiling. Oh shit...

He feels her shift a little on his chest, her breasts pressing up against the side of his body. She groans and stretches and he knows he has to say something.

"Umm... Viv?"

"Yeah?" She groans again, obviously feeling the effects of her drinks last night.

"Are you wearing... anything?" Her eyes pop open and she sits up suddenly. When she realizes that this means he can see her chest, she lays back down quickly and starts to slink away from him under the covers.

"Oh, God. Oh no." She whines. He grabs her and pulls her back onto his chest.

"No. Don't leave."

"Elvis, I... we-"

"I know. But I don't want you to leave. Not yet." She relaxes a little against him.

"Do you remember anything?" He tries to force his mind to focus on last night. All he sees are flashes, him running his hand up her leg, the sounds she made when she climaxed, one moment of looking into her eyes while she was on top of him, his hand on her cheek.

"Just flashes. You?"

"No, just flashes for me too."

"I remember it being really good, though." She whispers her response.

"Me too..."

They lay together in silence for a while, Elvis's mind going crazy wondering what she's thinking. He goes back to the conversation that never happened. Does she love him? Could this actually work?

"Vivian, you know, we could finish our conversation now." She sits up and looks into his face, hers painted with a look of anguish.

"No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the same reason you can't be with Ann Margaret is the same reason you can't be with me."

"Priscilla."

"Yes." He puts his hand on his forehead.

"Goddamnit. Man, I really screwed myself, didn't I?" She sighs deeply.

"Elvis, you told me once that she makes sense to you. Is that still true?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then there's your answer. I don't make sense to anyone. You should marry her." His heart breaks for Viv. He wants to tell her that it doesn't matter, that she does make sense to him, that even if she didn't he would love her. But he doesn't. He knows what the right thing to do is.

So he loosens his grip on her and she gets out of the bed. She finds her clothes from where she left them to change into his pajamas last night. He lays in the bed as she dresses, trying to keep himself from crying. Losing Ann Margaret was bad, but this is pure torture.

When she's fully put back together, she stands in the doorway just looking at him and he notices that she's crying and has been the whole time.

"Vivian..." He says it softly. Then, he gets out of bed and grabs a robe from a chair, wrapping it around himself. He walks to where she's standing and she collapses into his chest, sobbing. He holds her in his arms and kisses the top of her head. "I'm sorry."

She nods into him and then pulls back, wiping her face. He tries to catch her eyes but she won't look up at him. Without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, down the stairs, and through the front door, leaving him standing in the doorway. When he hears the front door latch, he falls to his knees and sobs.

Vivian is gone. He proposes to Priscilla in December of 1966.

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #Elvis x Vivian #Elvis Presley x Vivian choquette #your loves been a long time coming #ylbaltc

[know-the-way]

“Miss Fisher & The Crypt of Tears” Q&A for Acorn TV (2020) via @/miss.fisher__ on Instagram

“Nathan and Essie, what was it like for you two, coming back together and getting back into character?”

#mfmm #essie davis #nathan page #deb cox #fiona eagger #tony tilse #does anyone… know where the rest of this interview can be seen? #i tried every single keyword i could imagine #scrolled pages of archives on acorn tv’s website… and NOTHING #i’m going a little bit insane about it #why didn’t anyone do at least ONE group cast interview back in the day? #a travesty I’ll tell ya

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 27-Be Positive

CONTINUATION OF 12-BETRAYAL

"Are you sure it's okay to have a watch party here at your place, Alya?" Lila questioned.

"Are you kidding me?" Alya cried out, "It's not every day we get to see your boyfriend, Damian Wayne, on TV!"

"Did you really invite the old class?" Lila asked.

"It's like a mini reunion!" Alya giggled, "We still don't know where Marinette is, so she won't be here, if that's what you are worried about."

Lila remained silent. Marinette hadn't gone to high school with the rest of them. The class had asked her parents, but they just said she transferred elsewhere. There wasn't any reason to bring the baker's daughter into the mix that day. No one had seen her in years and as far as they knew, she never went home.

"I'm so glad we can watch it togther." Lila smiled, "I would have been there, but I have to fly with my mother to Italy tomorrow so I couldn't go."

Soon, everyone arrived. They got snacks and drinks, ready to watch the Wayne Christmas Gala on the TV.

"The Wayne family is finally here!" the announcer declared, "It seems we have the whole family in attendance! Bruce Wayne and his fiancée, Selina Kyle. We have Dick Grayson and it seems his wife and daughter aren't here this time. It seems a miracle is upon us; Jason Todd is in attendance. We also have the Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprise tonight, Tim Drake."

"It seems Damian Wayne decided to join us tonight." the announcer continued.

"I can't wait for you to see him!" Lila cooed, "I wish he had more free time so he could come to Paris and meet you all! He's so handsome!"

Damian appeared on the screen.

"Oh, he is cute."

"Not really my type, but okay."

"He looks like this dad."

"Is it me or does he look pissed off?"

"Oh, it seems he brought his newly announced fiancée, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" the announcer declared.

Lila's jaw dropped.

"Marinette!"

"Woah! She looks completely different."

"She grew her hair out! It's so long!"

"Remember whn she wore pigtails?"

Both Damian and Marinette stopped in front of the cameras for pictures.

"For those of you who don't kno the story behind Gotham's couple, it all started when Marinette Dupain-Cheng joined Wayne Enterprises at the age of eighteen." the announcer spoke, "At the age of twenty, she was running their fashion department and that is when Damian met her. Damian Wayne has stated in several interviews how he was , at first, determined to close down the department. That desire is wheat led him to meet her. We have learned that she did not cater to the Wayne ego and told him to leave her alone. Over time, Damian kept a watchful eye on her and even went as far as accusing her of seducing him. When he confronted her, months later, she punched him and quit. Bruce and Timothy Drake-Wayne begged her to stay, even attempting to raise her commission price to $200,000 for every design her completed."

The room was silent as they listened to the couple's tale.

"In the end, Marinette only desired Damian to apologize." the announcer laughed, "Our local Ice Prince then confessed he had found her attractive and distracting. It has been five years since that fated day when they started going out."

Across the screen showed pictures of the out on dates, walking in the park, eating at resturants; both cute and fancy.

"Just last month, Damian Wayne proposed." the announcer spoke, "Let's see if we can get a word in. Mr. Wayne, Miss Dupain-Cheng, there's a question viewers are dying to know."

"Maybe, we can answer." Marinette replied.

"Aside from her beauty, what drew you to dating Miss Dupain-Cheng?" they questioned.

Marinette covered her mouth, but the audio picked up a slight snort.

Damian blushed, "I was raised by my mother who taught me women were meant to be valued by thir strength, not their appearance. Marinette showed me how strong she was; that day I asked her out after she punched me in the face. Marinette is kind, smart, strong, a leader, and confident. I couldn't imagine anyone else by my side."

"Thank you for you answer, Mr. Wayne." the announced replied, shcoked, letting them walk off, "Well, there you have it folks. Out Ice Prince was dethawed by some heated words and a heated punch by Gotham's very own Sunshine!"

The TV cut to commercial and all hell broke loose.

"Lila, what the hell was that?"

"Didn't you say you were dating Damian Wayne?"

"Yeah!"

"Why is he with Marinette?"

"Why is he engaged to Marinette?"

"Are you 100% positive that you're dating Damian Wayne?"

"You think she's lying?"

"I just want to make sure before we blast Damian Wayne online as a cheater!"

"He cheated on Lila and deceived Marinette! The media is saying he's been with Mari for five years! Lila said they've been together for two years!"

"Do you have any pictures? We can use that as proof!"

"Knowing Marinette, she may just say that you're 'lying again'. She wouldn't believe you!"

Lila gulped, "I-I was lied to."

"Huh?" questioned Nino.

"The person I was dating said he was Damian Wayne, but he doesn't look like the guy on TV. I was too speechless when he came out on the screen to say anything. I'm sorry for the confusion." Lila admitted.

"Well, you better call him and tell him you just saw the Wayne Gala and know he isn't the real Damian Wayne!" shouted Alix.

"Wow! I can't believe that Marinette has been in Gotham!" spoke Nathaniel.

"Are your kidding? She's engaged to one of the world's billionares and is and is a fashion director for their company!" Kim exclaimed, "I wonder when she is coming back."

"Why would she come back here?" Adrien questioned, "Paris may be the fashion capital, but why would you lose a really good job like that?"

"Marinette's about to become Mrs. Wayne!" Rose cried out, excited.

Lila stood up, suddenly.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alya asked.

Lila had tears in her eyes, "I-I need to make a call."

"Do you need one of us to go with you?" Mylene asked out of concern.

Lila just shook her head.

Lila left the room, sobbing. After all she had done, Marinette had still won. Marinette had moved on. The baker's daughter had left the losers behind and rose the ranks to glory. She was on the verge of being fired from Gabriel. Adrien wasn't dating her, still, and was dating some other model from Shanghai. She was positive that Marinette hadn't thought of her in years. She had ruined her own life by turning Marinette against her. She had turned the person who would be the richest into her enemy and she knew she would never get a chance to have the life she desired.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

#daminette december 2023 #daminette #lila rossi #alya cesaire #paris class #wayne christmas gala #bruce wayne #dick greyson #tim drake #jason todd #selina kyle #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #engaged #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #lila rossi exposed #lila sat #be positive #mlb x dc #dc x mlb

[dittaturamonegasca]

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

#ask juls #landoscar #landoscar headcanons #headcanon #f1 #lando norris x oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #mclaren #formula 1 #ln4 #op81 #logan seargent #carlos sainz #max verstappen #george russell #daniel ricciardo #the grid being the victims #landoscar took thirdweeling to a new level

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It looks like Meghan may be test-driving yet another narrative to handle the criticism about her failure to royal: it's all Harry's fault.

This started last week when reporters and journalists were speculating whether the Sussexes, had they stayed in, would have been able to help KP squash all the noise about Kate's condition and help BP squash the nosie about the royal family's bench strength by stepping up royal work. Hugo Vickers more or less said "no, because the Sussexes are only in it for themselves. Meghan wouldn't step up unless she personally benefited. She would have seen nothing in it for herself and would refuse to work."

So cue Esther Krakue, who appeared on Sky News Australia today. She agrees with Vickers that the Sussexes wouldn't have stepped up, but says it's because of Harry. Not Meghan. And the way she lays the blame squarely on Harry, she plays to both sides of the royal fence:

For the squaddies, she says "it's Harry's fault Meghan was a terrible royal because he made her start working before she was ready and willing."

For the rest of us, she says "Meghan lacked the temperament to be a proper royal because she wanted to be in charge and it's Harry's fault because he should have prepared her better."

That she speaks to both sides is making it a little harder to see whether this is Meghan setting up for a divorce narrative or whether this is an olive branch PR.

A quick disclaimer. I've no idea where Krakue falls in the royal reporting spectrum (is she a Sussex mouthpiece? Is she a straight-shooting royalist? Or does she go where the paycheck is?)

For me, I come down on "well, this feels like pre-emptive divorce narrative." Mainly because Meghan has been laying groundwork since 2017 for a domestic violence-based divorce narrative and "Harry forced Meghan to work" not only plays into that, it also implies he threatened Meghan.

Anyway. Here's the story.

And by the way, did you know this is the 11th time Meghan has tried to rewrite the story of her royal career? Let's review them!

#1. While they were dating/pre-engaged (2016 - late 2017): I’ll be the bestest duchess to duchess, better than Kate.

#2. While they were engaged (late 2017 - mid-2018): I’m going to hit the ground running and everyone will be so impressed The Queen will make me her heir.

#3. While “in” for 72 days (mid-2018 - late 2019): I’m only supporting my preferred charities and best friends, how dare you *coat flick*

#4. While Megxiting (late 2019 - March 2020): I don’t need the royals to do good work. They’re old-fashioned anyway. Watch me hit the ground running and being the bestest duchess to duchess.

#5. During the pandemic (March 2020 - March 2021): I’m not bound by the code of ethics the royals are so I can volunteer and support my most passionate causes, politics and political issues.

#6. While sobbing to Oprah (March 2020 - late 2021): I can’t do anything because Waity Katie gets all the help, attention, and money. I’m just a young black mother.

Next, Meghan loses control of the narrative as everyone shows up for the BRF after the Oprah interview, and even more so after Philip passes away. This collective effort establishes the narrative of Meghan's royal career as actually scornful "I should be getting paid for this" contempt (as summed up by Bower in 2021's Revenge). Meghan tries some things to backtrack over this but she just digs herself in deeper and deeper, leading to three competing narratives over Meghan's work--

a) “No one from the palace helped us, we had to do it all on our own because William and Kate were jealous and refused to let anyone help us.” (Sussexes)

b) “It’s your own fault. Harry should have better prepared you for the realities of royal life and actually, HERE ARE THE RECEIPTS, WE DID TRY TO HELP but you wanted your LA teams to do it instead.” (BRF and Royal Rota)

c) “She never wanted to work, she just wanted the fame and fortune, come on you people, it's so [bleeping] obvious." (The public and most royal watchers)

This lasts until the end of 2021 when Sunshine Sachs/Netflix/Spotify finally dig Meghan out through a few rounds of Olive Branch PR and Jubilee and Hollywood manifestations, leading to...

#8. While finally launching her Megxit career (end of 2021 to September 2022, The Queen’s passing): I’m finally doing the work I was promised I could do by the royal family. Look at what you could've had.

#9. After The Queen’s passing (October 2022 to end of 2022): I just wanted to work but they wouldn't let me do anything because they're jealous.

#10. During the Charles era (2023): I couldn’t do anything because the royals are racist.

And now, #11. Royal Health Crisis (January 2024): I never wanted to be a working royal, Harry made me and he didn’t prepare me appropriately.

#brf #sussexes #divorce watch #pr shenanigans #rumors #theories

[imightgetbetter]

heart and soul

please be very kind with this one. i've been watching so many interviews where matty talks about mental health and i had a bit of a rough go myself today and i just thought about how this would go, and so, here we are. i hope you're taking care of yourself today.

Gentle fingers dance along your back, kneading into your skin every so often as you sink into his warmth, your fingers tracing over the tattoo inked across his chest. His lips are tucked into your hair, and the air is still, eerily quiet for a night when you’re home and haven’t had much to do. Usually, you would be in the kitchen, a playlist on the speaker and one of you cooking dinner, a bottle of your favorite wine cracked open to share. Nights like those, they were much more than nights like these, but at this moment, you genuinely wished you had the energy to be downstairs.

“Are you hungry?” Matty asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, nodding to himself when you shake your head. “Have you eaten at all today, darling? You have to eat. I need you to eat.”

“Not hungry,” you murmur, pulling the blanket over your shoulder and tucking yourself further into hiding. His other hand is dragging along your arm, rubbing over your skin gently. “You can go eat if you’re hungry.”

“Not going without you, darling. Think that you know me better than that by now.”

He’s right, you do know him better than that. Matty has always reacted the same on days like this, days where your anxiety is more than anyone should bear, and you can’t physically get yourself out of bed. In your younger years, Matty would come over and spend the day in your room with you, distracting you with stories of band rehearsal and writing and how he couldn’t wait for the day your stories about him could be read by him. He always argued that you heard songs much too soon, but he couldn’t read your writing. He never meant it maliciously, and the excitement you could see behind his eyes always kept you writing. In the years you lived thousands of miles apart, there would be a text every morning, ‘Good? Bad?’ He would nervously wait for your reply, waiting to see if he would be clinging to his phone all day or would give you space to get your work done. And in the last several years, where you two were rarely apart, he’s learned exactly what you crave on days like this, the way to break you out of it.

“Going to take a shower when this episode is done. Okay?”

Knowing that it’s not a question, you nod quietly, swallowing thickly and trying to work up the courage to speak, to say anything. Your voice feels heavy against your throat, like if you utter the tiniest word, you’ll become sick. “Okay.”

“I missed you all day,” Matty hums, turning his phone upside down and ignoring the call coming through. He couldn’t imagine anything that would matter as much as this, right now, as getting you on your feet and moving around. He wouldn’t ever turn away from you in a moment like this, not when you have seen him at his very worst, not when you’ve held his hand through the darkest moments of his life. He is your best friend, your partner, and he would never act as anything less than such. “Got a good writing session in. I did steal that line you wrote, by the way.”

“I want writing credit, Matthew,” you say, squeezing his hip and tilting your face slightly to give him the tiniest of smiles. “Can you tell me which line you stole?”

“Ah, a smile. That beautiful fucking smile of yours. I’m so in love with you. I need to see you smile every single day for the rest of my life. I can feel your smiles in the deepest parts of my heart. It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

“Matty,” you say, hiding your face in his chest and sucking a deep breath. His body smells like it always does, like home, like your person. Around you, the room is quiet, the television going quiet as the episode ends. “The episode is done.”

Matty brushes a stray strand of hair away from your forehead. “Are you ready to get out of bed for a bit?”

“Are you coming with me?”

“I would like to,” he says, cupping your cheek softly. His touch is so sweet, always so gentle. He always knows exactly what you need, exactly how to approach you. He’s always known, from the first moment you became friends all those years ago. He’s so familiar, and safe. “I’d also like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

And with that, you understand what he means now, when he says that he feels your smile in the deepest parts of his heart, because hearing him say that, hearing him ask such a simple question but a question that you know is rooted in his care and affection for you, makes your heart feel so warm, and you feel it everywhere. His love is in your heart, where your chest feels tight and swollen. His love is in your cheeks, where your skin feels hot. His love is in your hands, where your skin feels electric every time you touch him. His love is in your brain, where you never feel like a weight to carry. His love is everywhere inside of you.

Nodding silently, Matty sits upright and grabs your cheeks, kissing you delicately, as though the slightest touch with cause you to break. Although sometimes it feels that way, that you might break, there has never been a moment where you would feel broken with him. With Matty, you’re you, all of you, no matter what that looks like.

“I can feel your kiss in the deepest parts of my heart and soul,” you repeat to him, leaning your forehead against his, your hands holding his wrists on your face. You don’t want him to let go, to move. There’s warmth between you, between the intimacy of the moment. “I can feel your love everywhere, no matter how I’m feeling.”

“That’s the line,” Matty smiles, rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks, and you realize what you’ve said, the line that he stole. “I can feel your love everywhere, darling. No matter where I am, what I’m feeling, or who I’m with. I can feel your love everywhere.”

#matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #love it if we made it series

[lewkwoodnco]

Now That We Don't Talk - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: very very brief suicidal mention, sooooo much writer's block hhhh (the seasonal depression is depressing), (angst but diluted if that makes sense) add/remove yourself from my taglist in the link beloooow ALSO

🎄Special Announcement! I'll be doing a twelve days of Christmas fic series (1 songfic fic a day leading up to Christmas) BUT I will also be accepting extra holiday-themed requests (if any)!🎄

(speaking of the holidays, thinking of switching to a santa-themed george icon soon hmmm), wc 3.1k

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

TAGLIST | MATERLIST

Moving had been a surprisingly smooth process that she remembered little of. She had to take care to not think too much about the ornaments she was packing or the boxes she was taping shut or the lonely town she was numbly driving towards, lest the rest of her catch up to the grief weighing her down. Her supervisor had looked plenty confused when she explained where she was transferring to, and muttered something about not knowing if there were any visitors there.

As steep as the change was from working in central London to a significantly sleepier town, she seemed to be adjusting fine. In fact, she was liking the peace and quiet. Or at least, she would, soon enough. She'd learn the right habits, like finding contentment in the stagnant void that descended on her windows far too quickly every evening, the same way she'd unlearn bad habits, like him. So no, her biggest problem was hardly the early sunsets here, but was actually what everyone wanted to talk to her about when she called. The one thing everyone - her old teammates, colleagues, friends - wanted to make sure she knew.

"The gala was fantastic this year - though not as fun without you, of course -"

"You'll never believe who showed up."

"He looked very sharp in his suit. He cleans up nice, I suppose - Anthony Lockwood, I mean."

"They've become quite the celebrities, that Lockwood & Co., though the other two don't seem to tolerate the cameras like he does."

"Oh, you should have seen it. Say what you will about Lockwood but does he know how to make an entrance!"

"Were you at the gala this year?"

She sighed for what must have been the fifth time that day. "No, Ted, I was not. You were at my farewell party, remember?"

"Tha' was for you?"

"Goodbye, Ted."

"Wait! You've seen the pictures, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't, because contrary to popular belief, I am not obsessed with evrything that goes on at Fittes."

"Well, we had a tiptop chocolate fountain this year. Didn't get clogged once and looked absolutely gorgeous. Anywho, I've recently stumbled upon this smashing business opportunity involving chocolate fountains - they're selling like hot cakes, I tell you! - and I'd love to spread the wealth."

"Theodore, you haven't joined another MLM, have you?"

"What is an MLM, other than an opportunity to invest in yourself?"

"Don't make me phone your mother."

The call ended rather abruptly after that. Only Lucy, as always, was an angel.

"I take it you've heard plenty about him?"

"Who? Oh, him. Yes, more than plenty."

"I thought you might. He has...quite the presence, so the papers wanted to interview him, and he agreed - "

" - obviously - "

"And I think they asked him about you at some point."

Her mouth dried. She struggled to find her voice, forcing it to stay casually disinterested. "Hm? What did he say?"

"Absolutely nothing. First and probably last time I've seen him stunned speechless. Naturally, it's all anyone can talk about."

"Mhm."

"He hasn't talked about you, if you're wondering. Sees it coming from a mile away every time George and I try to bring it up. It's so stupid; we know it, he knows it, and he's always in a foul mood. He keeps thinking, these days...Y/N?"

"I don't care."

"No one would blame you if you did."

"I don't."

"So how are you holding up?"

"Well, Luce, I felt happiness outside of external validation for the first time in...ever, then three months later I'm crying in my bathtub wishing I would die, and now I'm miles away from everyone I ever knew and it's always dark outside and I'm always miserable. I'm doing great."

She could hear the exhaustion in the crackling static of the telephone. It occurred to her that she wasn't much acting all that cheerful either.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think he half-expected to see you there."

She inhaled sharply and sat up in her armchair so fast she could feel a cramp curling in her neck. She didn't dare believe Lucy's words. "Really?" she wanted to breathe into the telephone, and revel in dormant delusions, if only for a moment. Instead, she gingerly sank back into the chair, continuing in a flat voice.

"Well, I don't care about any of that now. Oh, I'm sick of it. All of it. If I never hear his name again for as long as I live, it'll be still be too soon. How's George doing?"

After she hung up, she laid in her chair, watching the shadows from her shutters stretch and fold over her furniture as the sun set. She was thinking about the last party she had been to, a yacht party where some of Fittes' and Rotwell's biggest investors were in attendance. How Lockwood had managed to score an invite was beyond her, but what intrigued her more was the cab ride they shared back to Portland Row.

She had been half-dozing off when she felt a hand cover hers. As she blinked at him blearily, she noticed the rigid tension in his spine, as if poised and waiting for an attack. He was clutching her hand purposefully, as if holding off on warning her about something malevolent that was consuming him. She couldn't see his face, which began to feel no different from the cold, hard window pane it was peering out of.

She stirred, distantly unnerved by his impersonality. He glanced at her, apologetically retracting his hand with a sheepish smile. But that look of consternation remained on his face as he turned back to the window with a furrowed brow, with the air of waiting for something. He visibly relaxed as they approached Portland Row, but she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling even by the time they reached the doorstep.

"You all right?" she was asking, while Lockwood fumbled with their keys.

"'Course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't respond, and the two of them watched him wrench at the key in the lock, trying to steady his mildly trembling fingers.

"Key turns the other way."

He paused his efforts, and after a second or two turned the key the other way. The door slid open smoothly with a click. He held it open, but she just looked at him expectantly. He sighed.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just...get a little nervous around some parts of London."

"Which parts?"

"Some."

"Scared of what?"

"A few things."

"Why?"

"For fun. Look, I'm freezing out here. Can we just drop this?"

That was more than a mild exaggeration; the sun had only just set and the air was still pleasantly balmy. But he looked so beseechingly, and it didn't take much for her to relent when it came to Lockwood, so they stepped inside and shrugged their coats off in silence.

"I'll tell you some day. I'm sure I will."

That was some day too far away. Now she'll never know if, or why he ever felt like that. Or rather, she wouldn't know when he would feel like that. But it was no matter. It was none of her business then, and it was even less of her business now.

She had mostly forgotten about her conversation with Lucy by the following week, which was why her parcel came as a bit of a surprise, especially since she'd mentioned being swamped by a mountain of upcoming cases.

Y/N -

I was thinking about our call the other day. On a completely unrelated note, here's about every gossip rag from the past month I could find at Arif's.

Love, Lucy.

She was beginning to see what was so appealing about these magazines. As ruthless as they could be, they sure knew how to sell a pipe dream to common folk with less exciting lives. The gala was clearly as glitzy and glamorous as it was every year, and the articles held an air of intrigue now that she was quite separate from Fittes. But that quivering excitement became somewhat muffled as she flipped through the glossy pages.

The Anthony Lockwood she saw now looked worlds apart from the Lockwood she left behind. His well-fitting suit, megawatt smile and carefully styled hair made him look expensive in a way that destabilised her. She flipped through photograph after photograph of him looking jarringly luxurious besides walls of text effusing about the success of their latest case, and what an honour it must have been to be personally invited by Marissa Fittes herself. It weighed at the pit in her stomach to see this unfamiliar silhouette of a friend who was become increasingly unattainable, speeding along roads to prosperity faster than she could ever keep up with.

She sifted through the other rags. The most extensive feature was a few pages long, and was centered more on the exciting, up-and-coming agency that was Lockwood & Co. rather than a specific case. There were pictures from their most recent cases, and in each one he looked unnaturally distinct from the last, but in every single one he oozed an appealingly languid charisma. It was good to see him doing so well. She was happy for him. Or she would be, tomorrow, when she had the strength for it. Lockwood was unbearable in a way that made him perfect for a life in the public eye, a life for which she was somehow always deficient. She traced a too-long strand of hair flopped on his forehead in one of the photographs, as if she could magically straighten it out.

She could see him now, thumbing through the pages with an approving tilt to his head, limbs folded uncomfortably in the armchair he always insisted on sharing with her. "No such thing as bad press," he'd claim absent-mindedly, his too-long hair flopping impractically. And she'd watch him with bruised eyes like she always did, wishing for nothing more in that moment shared with him. In other words, wishing for nothing short of what she could never have.

Maybe it was some lingering wish to break herself before he beat her to it. Because that was all it was; dodging blows, lying through pretty teeth, racing ahead to pull one over on him, cursing the feel of his breath on her. There was simply no calm, no respite, only the all-consuming experience of becoming wrapped up in him and losing bits and pieces of herself which would never again be truly hers.

She picked up the telephone again. It felt too heavy in her hand. Numbly, she spun the dial as if on autopilot, keying in her mother's phone number. The dial tone comforted her in some twisted yet cathartic acknowledgement of the emptiness inside of her.

Looking at it now she could see the distinct air of mystery that engulfed Lockwood and clouded her vision. He was never quite fully present; a part of him was always tucked away to be kept secret in some dark corner, and her mind was only too happy to extrapolate, to construct this most desirable yet entirely mythical figment. She felt ragged, winded and worn from battling reality day after day, all alone. And most of all, she felt so very stupid.

Her mother was saying that she had made the right decision. Not that she needed any reminding. Of course her life had taken an upward swing ever since; she'd be a fool to think otherwise. She was positively paralysed with liberty, bedridden with joy, simply immobile with ecstasy!

She was slowly but surely going very insane. Now making eyes at each other, now disconnect, now love, now heartache, now this, now that, but never any peace. Maybe it was some lingering wish to shatter and let the pent up misery dissipate.

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

Months passed. The holiday season arrived, and she choked through the November blues with shivering bones and clammy hands. Even with the slight uptick in visitors, as was expected in the colder months, her life provided little to distract her from her own ghosts under the floorboards. So when she received a consultancy request from Fittes one morning, she had written back and mailed her response all while still holding the jam knife.

The train was crowded and noisy with the bustle of the holidays, but as it chugged along through the fields of snow, she couldn't help but perk up ever so slightly at every sigh and creak of its wheels. There was a spring in her step all the way to Fittes headquarters, where she was supposed to collect her apartment key.

A tall, indistinct figure was walking out of the revolving doors as she approached. She flinched when she realised who it was - Lockwood, who didn't seem much happier to see her either. He looked mostly well, though the corners of his mouth were a little strained, his face flushed in the cold.

"...Y/N?"

"Lockwood."

"You're...home?"

"Yeah. Um, how have you been?"

"Good...good. Busy. As busy as winter gets."

He was wearing a different coat. It was quite similar to his old one, but this one was thicker and more structured, and looked like it was at least somewhat effective in keeping the brisk winter wind out. He looked foreign and unfamiliar in a way he hadn't since...since the Investors Party.

It had taken her a while to pick his face out of the pretentious crowd, given how preoccupied she was with weaving through the thicket of people. It had taken her a eyes minute to adjust to the almost nauseatingly charismatic silhouette of an especially-chuffed Lockwood in a newly tailored but otherwise identical suit. She tried to give him a reproaching look, but there was something infectious in his smooth ease as he larked about in his prime which made her lips twitch despite herself as he waded through the crowds.

"You really shouldn't be here."

"You're clearly not drunk enough yet."

"How did you even get in? This is invitation-only."

"Had an invite, didn't I?"

She pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. He was hopelessly incorrigible in an oddly fascinating way. Her voice dropped to a murmur as she felt herself begin to relent.

"I ought to...tell someone about you."

"That you're secretly in love with me?"

"That we have an illegal stowaway."

"You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

The pleading look on his face was enough to give her pause. She was already beginning to regret her decision, but he looked so vivacious it was difficult to stay disapproving for long.

"Excellent. Now, would you be so good as to point me in the direction of the bigger spenders?"

They spend the next few hours laughing and entertaining the many important men on the boat and their great deal of important thoughts. She'd excuse herself towards the end of every conversation to leave Lockwood and the glimmer in his eye to close a deal. For someone so adept at climbing the corporate ladder, she was surprisingly poor at fulfilling these adjacent duties.

She hated every second of it, and she drank as much as she could without raising eyebrows to make it all halfway palatable, but it was all worth it then. He had wanted to stay for as long as it would have been polite, so when they finally left, long after the media had made their rounds at the event, his jacket was folded over his left arm and his hand was delicately holding hers.

When she was stuck in her drafty cottage on the edge of nowhere, she'd think about the feel of his fingers curling around her palm more than it was appropriate, and wonder how she ever thought she was somehow better off here.

But that evening's sense of camraderie was long gone. Now, she regarded him coolly, holding him at arm's length. They may have had a rough falling out, but that didn't mean they couldn't still be friends. Just friends. Nothing more. But the vaguely intimate look in Lockwood's eye told her he was in no mood to entertain any kind of platonic notions.

"I didn't know you were back."

She relented. It was the season of giving, after all.

"Only for a while. Fittes hired me as a consultant for a few months."

He blinked at her. "You could have called."

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Of course I'd be interested. I'm always interested when it comes to you."

She sighed sharply. It was so easy to get swept up and believe him when he said things like that, that she wondered how she found the strength to leave. He was a bastard, a ne'er-do-well who only knew how to break her heart after promising sweet, simple luxuries in whispers over expanses of skin. She made her lips tremble, her pulse quicken, her heart shake in all the worst ways.

But underneath all that, love was there. Love was there...still.

"Ready to go?"

They turned in unison towards a strikingly beautiful girl with glossy raven curls walking out of the revolving doors. The girl's smile only slipped a fraction as she shook her hand, and she was distantly aware of making some kind of clumsy introduction. They stuttered through some stunted small talk, during which all she was aware of was the blood roaring in her ears that gave the whole scene a distantly muffled feel. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Well, this was...lovely. Shall we go, then?"

The girl turned to leave, but some semblance of hesitation prevented her from pulling Lockwood along with her.. His face still had that same confused look.

"You could have called," he repeated tonelessly, like a broken record. The girl's presence made the back of her neck smart and prickle uncomfortably.

"I might, later."

"Bye. Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too."

"We're home all day."

The last one was from Lockwood.

"Just...if you want to drop by. So that Luce and George don't have my head on a platter by supper."

"Goodbye, Lockwood."

He was captivating in a way that made her want to keep him all to herself. No one needed to intrude on this tantalising secret they shared. It was at that moment that she made the very unfortunate realisation that she didn't need to say it out loud to make what she had been screaming from the rooftops of her heart any more real - him and her would forever be unfinished business.

And nothing she could do could make the palpitations of her heart any less real either.

As the life she once dreamed of walked away from her, all she was acutely aware of was that it was a lingering wish, some half-thought dream, to sit opposite him in a chilly kitchen on blustery mornings, watching him drink his tea while she got drunk on him.

TAGLIST: @novelizt @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mischivana @mitskiswift99 @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood & co #fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #1989 vault tracks #taylor swift 1989 #1989 tv #1989 #1989 taylor's version #now that we don't talk

[nuka]

You know what? I think it's fucking lovely that the OFMD fandom is collectively coming to support Taika after all the shit he got for the letter. If you don’t like him, that’s fine, I’m not saying everyone does or should, but the general vibe in the fandom this week has been so much better regarding Taika. And I’m glad Samba did a shoutout for him. I’ve seen so many people say, “actually, overall Taika’s a good guy and he’s allowed to make mistakes and it was a letter so just block me if you disagree”. People are going to get shit for saying that, but they’re saying it anyway, and I admire that.

I’ve always enjoyed Taika’s work, I saw his short film Two Cars, One Night back when I was a teenager and I immediately thought there was something unique about his style. Something about how he tells meaningful stories through humor has always appealed to me. Not to get all parasocial here, but I do get the vibe from his work and his past interviews that I’ve gone through some of the same shit as he has early on in life, so that might be why I relate to him and the messages in his work so much, and why I can kinda see where he’s coming from. I think he’s a brilliant filmmaker. And he’s truly put so much effort into his character in Our Flag Means Death, and the show wouldn’t be the same without his contribution to it. Anyway, that’s just my opinion on his work.

I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s not acting from a place of malice with the letter, and he often tends to say things in interviews without explaining himself that well, which leads to people making their own assumptions about what he’s saying. These days you have to overexplain yourself when you say anything just to make sure you’re not accidentally offending anyone, because people will read some hidden meaning into anything you don’t say. There are actually evil people in the world, and Taika’s not one of them. He’s also not in a place of political power, so his political stance has about the same power as my hairdresser’s political stance.

Taika’s put a lot of work into giving visibility and a voice to indigenous groups through filmmaking. Many people are willing to throw all that away for one letter. I’m not. If you disagree, then that’s your opinion. Personally I think he’s a pretty decent guy, a complex human being just like the rest of us, and he’s done a lot of good. Do I think he could’ve done some things differently regarding this situation or some situations in the past? Sure! He’s not perfect. No one is.

But I also completely understand why he’s not much on social media anymore, because he’ll get attacked for literally anything he says or does. Why bother trying to appease anyone online, when the majority of people are going to be dicks about it anyway. He probably has better things to do with his time in the real world.

So yeah.

#ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #adopt our crew #our flag bbc #renew as a crew #taika waititi #if you think i'm supporting a zionist then you can just block me thanks ✌️ #but if you're being a shithead only on taika's ig then i ask you why you're targeting just him out of the hundreds who signed the letter #hating on taika does literally NOTHING for palestine.

[hiemaldesirae]

Arrax here: image Vox is doing another broadcast about Alastor or the hotel or something, when another Overlord breaks in and just out and out attacks him--because the other Overlord is in love with Alastor. All the Cannibals in Cannibal town and Rosie immediately shake their heads because they know this other overlord is a dead demon walking--Vox usually let's his challengers live after they've signed their souls over to him, no matter how badly they've wounded him....but Alastor definitely would have seen this. And attacking Al's muse, his everything because you think you love Al? Yeah, even if Vox owns you...it doesn't mean shit. You're a threat to his muse and you must be dealt with. Alastor can easily find Vox a better soul to have as an underling.

you know another anon was worried about you giving me painful ideas? yeah they were right

i think, honestly in theory, this sort of situation could be very comedic if in the hands of the right person. i however am the completely wrong person if you were searching for anything other than the worst possible writing ever. (putting a readmore because i cant fucking control myself when i get rambling LMAO)

picture this: vox is on tv for one of his usual broadcast segments, taking an interview about his involvement with the radio demon/dissolvement of their rivalry and the hazbin hotel or something. alastor is "begrudgingly" sitting with the rest because admit it or not, he does still have a lingering fondness for the "noisy picture box" demon and, well, that *is* the hotel he's running being promoted, so might as well... (he's mostly just here to stare at the other's face, and husk knows this but he's sworn to silence and niffty is. Niffty. so. whatever)

anyway, blah blah blah they cut to a segment and go off for intermission, but things start to drag on longer than they should. the ad theyre running for intermission stops, but the screen still stays black until it eventually flashes to an error. at this point, the hotel cast is like 'uhhh did something fuck up on set' but theyre not worried about anything until the lights start to flicker, and one by one, every streetlight begins to shut down and fizz out before the electricity cuts off completely, the constant white noise of tv static cutting out alongside it and the buzz of vox's own frequency in alastor's chest going flat with the rest of his power.

before anyone even realizes al is to his feet and out the door, shadows wrapping around his form and carrying him halfway across pentagram city to the vee's tower. when he enters the studio, it's already been trashed to hell and back, with black and red bloodstains from both the hellborn employees and whatever sinners were present at the time of the altercation staining the walls. there are bodies, of course, but none of them are important to him because none of them are *vox*. and he doesn't know where the hell the other is except the fact that he might be hurt. and that's- well, that's unacceptable. if anyone was going to kill vox, it would be him, with the other's blood on his claws and flesh in his mouth and the beating, pumping heart in his chest in his hands-

anyway. he needs to find him. so in classic radio demon fashion, alastor sweeps in and out of shadows and terrorizes those employees not already dead or dying, until he finally reaches-

"vox."

the overlord is standing in the middle of an empty room, completely devoid of any furniture or lighting. it's dark, and there are no windows. at the sound of alastor's voice, he turns to face him slowly. when he finally looks over, alastor almost wants to retch at the sight before him. the others screen is so cracked he looks like a stained glass window, and a seemingly endless stream of blood pours out from the giant gaping hole in the middle of his tv head. what looks like it could be mistaken for a human eye peers out at him before it softens, and a humming static fills the room as vox approaches him slowly, like *alastor* was the wounded prey and not the predator.

when vox reaches him- well, alastor isn't quite sure what the other was going to do anyway, but he pulls the other overlord forward and holds him up by his shoulders, gently tilting the other's screen up to look at him.

"who did this to you?"

it doesnt matter if vox cant reply right now. alastor will find out soon enough, and he'll make sure that whatever fool decided to lay a hand on his muse would suffer for it hundredfold.

(when he finds out that it was because of the other's foolish love for him, alastor not only proceeds to mock the other overlord on a live broadcast but literally proposes to vox on the spot just out of sheer pettiness)

#ran rambles #general asks #radiostatic #hazbin hotel #okay i really do need to study now #but this was fun to write lol

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC questionnaire

Thanks to @elsie-writes here, @mysticstarlightduck here, @riverkaplan here, and @somethingclevermahogony here!

My previous questionnaires:

Robbie, Gwen, Maddie, Noelle, Jedi, and Kelsey here.

Carmen, George, Akash, Sam, Lexi, and Ash here.

Gabriel, Carla, Parker, Rose, Alex, and Ewan here.

Liam, Hye-Jin, Wendy, Wade, Issa, and CJ here.

Below the cut I will do: Teo, Niri, Jazlyn, Anathi!

#1- Teo

Do you believe in the paranormal?

“Sis, my boyfriend literally can heal a broken arm in seconds. You would not believe the shit I've seen Parker do just because Wade can heal him. Oh yeah, and Parker literally is an airbender. How can I not? If a vampire walked into the school I wouldn't blink.”

What oddly-specific T-shirt would you wear?

“This shirt that says ‘born to shit, forced to wipe,’ I want it so much you don't understand.”

Do you usually cry at sad moments or happy moments or both?

“Definitely sad moments. I mean, I would not put it past me to cry when happy, but I can't make it through sad movies, man. Not at all.”

#2- Niri

Where is your favorite place in the world?

“I have an easy answer to this. Carla and George have a quiet room in their house. I can go there if I feel too overwhelmed or if I want to be alone for a bit. The room also has good lighting. I like it if someone joins me, though usually just a few people at the same time. Otherwise my reason for going into the room is ruined. [He smiles slightly.] I like everyone in the Aequales. Although there is a lot of people.”

What food do you hate the most?

“I dislike pasta. Pasta is not bad. It tastes good. But the texture really bothers me. I cannot eat spaghetti.”

Do you like watching sunsets or sunrises?

“Yes. I 100-percent love sunsets and sunrises. I am an artist. Maybe that's the reason. I feel inspired. New day, too.”

#3- Jazlyn

If you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it be?

“I would wear a tank top and shorts, easily. Why? Well, I think it would be fun, definitely make me stick out among the modest Utahns I'm forced to interact with. But also they show off how good of shape I'm in. And girl, I'm in good shape. It's hard to find pants for me, since I'm mostly legs. So why not show them off? I'd probably wear cute sandals, the necklace Ewan gave me, and my gorgeous hoop earrings.”

Who's the person you trust more than anyone else in the world?

“Obviously, Ewan. He is the kindest person I know. He would never do anything wrong.”

What's your dream job?

“I would actually find sales fun. I plan to get a marketing degree when I go to college next year. It seems fun to convince people what to buy.”

More Jazlyn: OC interview

#4- Anathi

Who in this world do you trust most, and why?

“... I guess Tyler. Kinda by default. He actually listens to me. Always kept promises, too. I relied on him for many reasons.”

What was your favorite place in the world when you were young

“The park. Where I could hang out with other kids. Before my powers kicked in.”

What is your favorite memory?

“When Tyler and I first met, we talked for hours. I would like to experience that feeling again.”

I haven't written for Anathi yet so this was probably only okay. Shorter responses are intentional tho

Your questions:

Tagging @writernopal @aziz-reads @mk-writes-stuff @romances-not-tragedies @little-peril-stories

@evilgabe29 @maggiekwest @chauceryfairytales @pluppsauthor @willtheweaver

@winterandwords @melpomene-grey @i-can-even-burn-salad @mysticstarlightduck @talesofsorrowandofruin

+ ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS

How do you make decisions? Long deliberation, or impulse? Logic or emotions?

What is the best thing that could happen within five minutes after waking up? Does it signal that the entire day will be good?

Is there anything that you find difficult that you feel should be easy?

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

#the secret portal #teaspoon #tsp #my ocs #oc tag game #oc questionnaire #writing tag game #teo nguyen #niri shyaka #jazlyn nyambura #anathi makeba #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 3

The next few days were spent resting and recovering from a hard day. I was a little dehydrated, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be dealt with by the doctors on base. Theo and I spent the time trying to compile a list of suitable candidates that had volunteered for the mission. It was important that we not consider anyone who did not think the climb was possible.

     We spent nearly a week interviewing candidates, testing their endurance and getting to know each and every one of them, but the nagging feeling that none of them truly believed they could do it was starting to make me think that the plan really would fail. Theo was starting to think the same thing, and it looked as if we were running out of hope on all fronts.

     I took a walk out to the training grounds one evening as the sun began to set. I looked up at the climbing wall and thought on how difficult I found it to scale. The person we were looking for would have to be able to climb more than two hundred times that in record pace. Maybe what I was asking really was impossible.

     ‘Ready for another climb, Dr Jane Harding?’ The voice of Optimus Prime boomed from behind where I was standing. How I didn’t notice his menacing shadow, was beyond me.

     ‘Optimus Prime.’ I chuckled, awkwardly, having not seen him since the day I first climbed the wall with Lennox. ‘You can call me Dr Harding, you know, or just Jane is fine… I was just… well, I was just thinking about what I’m asking someone to do.’ I confessed.

     ‘Do you no longer believe it possible?’ He almost seemed disappointed in the question.

     ‘No, I do.’ I nodded. ‘I just… I don’t think anyone else really does.’ I sighed, watching Optimus kneel down to listen to me. ‘Theo and I have interviewed and tested soldiers and athletes, even scientists who were fit enough to complete the tests, their scores were good, and they each showed the potential to make the climb.’

     ‘Yet, you would not ask them to take on this mission?’

     I shook my head. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

     ‘And why is that?’ He leaned closer. I could see that same complexity that held my attention the very first time I’d seen him. Those blue eyes that, to most, displayed only a mechanical miracle, but to me, contained such brilliant life.

     ‘Because they all say they believe it’s possible, but none of them have the faith that they can do it.’

     ‘Mmm.’ Optimus mused, turning to see the sunlight for a moment before turning back. ‘And what about you?’

     I frowned. ‘What about me?’

     ‘Do you have faith that you could make the climb?’

     I thought for a moment, my first answer was that I wasn’t a soldier, but that wasn’t the question. If I trained for six months to make that climb, if I pushed myself the same way I pushed myself through that training session, to make it to the top of the wall, then there was nothing stopping me from doing anything I wanted.

     ‘Your silence suggests more than you may think.’ Optimus gave the hint of a smile. ‘I cannot ask you to complete this mission, but I know that should you choose to take it on, your world’s chances of survival, would skyrocket.’

     I felt that same pang of nervousness and fear fill my chest. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

     ‘I witnessed your training session with Lennox and his men,’ Optimus argued gently. ‘You could have given up any time, you were given every opportunity to quit, yet, you continued, knowing you might fail, knowing your body would feel the consequences of such a challenge and you went on until the end. You did so in the hopes that if you could see the same internal determination in your volunteers, then they would be a suitable candidate for this mission, but you have drawn the conclusion that none are mentally capable.’

     I felt my jaw clench with doubt. ‘I don’t know if I’m physically capable of this.’

     ‘You told me that this mission would be mind over matter,’ he said, firmly. ‘If you truly believe in your heart that this is possible for one human being to complete, then it is up to you to prove it, Dr Harding.’

     I thought about what he was saying and realised he was right, I couldn’t ask anyone to do this, not unless I was willing to do it myself. Six months suddenly seemed like no time at all, but I had no choice.

     ‘Fate waits for no one.’ Optimus continued. ‘But it rarely calls upon those who are not ready. If you believe you can do this, then you have my faith also, and I would not go into battle with any other. Do you accept the challenge?’

     I swallowed nervously. I had always heard he was a great leader, someone you’d die for on a moment’s notice and now I knew why.

     ‘I accept.’ I said, simply.

     ‘You are a brave soul, one I would gladly give my life for. I will keep the enemy distracted for as long as you need to complete your mission in the knowledge that you will succeed regardless of cost.’ I felt my whole being ignite. ‘It will be an honour to serve with you, Dr Harding.’

     ‘And you, Optimus Prime.’ I nodded, knowing that this would be one of the hardest things I would ever do with my life, but someone had to do it.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

#optimus prime x reader #optimus prime x ofc #transformers #optimus prime fic #optimus prime

[lucysarah-c]

Frankly, I've always found it strange, myself included, why Levi never mentions Isabel and Farlan. For example we don't even see them in the flashbacks where he remembers his comrades. But if I had to think of the most logical reason I could think of, it's more likely that it's because they're not characters of Yams own creation. No Regrets is a script that Yams commissioned someone else to write for the Levi background, a spinoff that was not written by Isayama himself, and the characters there are not Yams characters, except for Levi and Yams characters.

In one of the interviews I read about No regrets, I read that Isayama wanted this story to be written/drawn because he wanted a spinoff that was more about how Levi joined Survey corps. That's exactly what it is, if I remember what was written correctly. Maybe you've seen it too. My point is this, Perhaps the reason Isayama never mentions Farlan and Isabel in his own story is because they are not his characters, but also because both Farlan and Isabel and No Regrets itself, are more of background tools on how Levi joined Sc.

Hi! How are you?

Yeah, I think that's a very possible and logical answer. I would 100% believe that would be the reason if other characters were mentioned more frequently. I would be like, "Why does Levi constantly talk or think in this or that character and not Farlan and Isabel?" But overall, I still kinda stick to my idea that we hardly even see any other "remarkable" characters as "flashbacks" from the veterans, and we never hear even Levi mention them. Not just Levi; almost all the characters do not mention other characters overall.

I dare to say that's mostly an "economical" situation. Probably Isayama wasn't allowed to have any extra scenes or do "fill up" chapters to showcase other characters talking about their lives, their thoughts, etc. Like, as an example, I can't recall a single chapter in the manga or anime where Erwin talks about Mike, for example, and it's well-known that they were very close. Hange is the same. I hardly think that Levi or anyone actually actively thinks or mentions other characters in the story unless it's an "emotional or plot-wise" moment, like recalling fallen comrades, like Marco, etc.

I think that was mostly my point of view on the issue. Levi doesn't think about Farlan or Isabel, but because Levi or any other SNK character thinks or mentions other characters beside strict plot-wise necessity, and it's obvious that Farlan and Isabel aren't "plot-wise" necessities. I personally think that most of the "relationships" between characters can be "assumed" by how they interact in "spin-offs" like chibis and "junior high." I think they serve a bit to fill up that void with also the "game's extras stories etc."

Which, and this is already me rambling, I had always found it strange that it's showcased in official art, chibis, junior high, etc., that the veterans were rather close, but during the Uprising Arc, Levi mentions Kenny to Hange and they knew absolutely nothing about him. I think it would have been a nice touch, not only for Hange but for any "veteran," if Levi decided to be "100% honest" about his childhood, like telling being raised by Kenny, they could act like, "You mentioned before a bit about it but I never imagined you were talking about Kenny the ripper." A sort of "oh, you told us a bit about your past but never in detail and now that's plot-wise important, we get the details, we understand it a bit more because we are close to you than the rest but that 'extra information' isn't important enough for the reader to be aware of it but my knowledge about it showcases my closeness to you" sort of thing? I don't know if that makes sense; that's what I mean that for me Isayama lacks a bit in the writing relationship departments because those little details are so subtle but mean so much.

Anyways, the good thing is that we can fill that void with fanfics!

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi #snk levi #levi #levi aot #attack on titans #attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot

[coraniaid]

Is there any actual evidence at all for the often-repeated claim that the "original plan" for Faith was that she'd kill herself in the middle of Season 3? I see people online assert this as fact a lot, but it seems so tonally inconsistent with the rest of the season (and, honestly, with Buffy itself) that it's really hard to imagine it was ever seriously considered. Yes, characters on the show briefly contemplate suicide -- Angel, Jonathan, Spike and Buffy herself for just some examples -- but to actually have a teenage character kill themselves seems like it would be much darker than anything we ever see on the actual show.

I can definitely believe that there wasn't any original plan for Faith -- that initially Eliza Dushku signed up to play the role for five (or however many) episodes while the writers were still figuring the arc for the season out. And I can believe that that there were was some original plan to have her written out of the show some other way (running out of town after Finch dies, for example, the way her character initially plans to in canon).

But this seems such a specific claim, and I've never seen anyone even suggest where to look for supporting evidence. It's always just stated as something we "know" to be true. Is it from the DVD commentaries, or an interview, or what? Where does this idea come from?

#btvs

[cajon-desastre]

What a night

It was an unexpected gift, appreciated and enjoyed.

On the life of me I can assure you that I never believed that I would become part of the events of yesterday.

The rest I put behind the cut, it's too long and in case anyone wants to scroll and ignore my ramblings 😉

It all started by contacting another fan and meeting to see the atmosphere, curiosity mainly due to the fact that it was the first time that this event with Sam was held in Spain and, specifically, in Madrid, in my city. And I had another fan giving me virtual spanks if she didn't at least come look. The surprise was arriving at the building where it was going to be held and my friend telling me that she had gotten a double invitation and that I was her guest.

At that point my zen attitude went down the drain lol.🤣

During the waiting time at the entrance we observed the people who were queuing to enter, we assume that everyone had an invitation and the joy of the people was already noticeable, some came from Glasgow, London, Paris,…Honestly, I have always considered myself fan but not fanatic and it is a universe that surprised me by the amount of time and money that people can dedicate to their idol. Of course everyone is free to enjoy it in their own way.

It also gave us time to see the organization and it was disturbing to see that there were no fences, a bad thing when there are certain fans who have no limits and it could be a security problem.

In that time I also learned about the micro universe that is fan groups, their sections and their leaders. Not only was I already warned of what I was going to find, but it is worrying how these people become the "best fans" with the right to direct/say what to do and try to get noticed by all possible means. I think these women are not aware of the image they project, for me it was really creepy.

Once the gates opened, and we took up positions in the best places we could find, we had to wait a long time. The group I met with made funny comments, photos, selfies, and we watched people do the exact same thing. I saw solidarity and good gestures. Next to me was a girl with an older person who turned out to be her grandmother, because the young girl was accompanying her, the fan was her grandmother! hahaha. 🤣 The average age? The truth is that I saw everything but there were younger people than I expected, also some boys although fewer.

And we keep waiting. With the music on loop and there was nothing happening. They warned that the doors were going to be closed and people would not be able to go in or out and we stayed like that for a good half hour in which the mobile phones were on, focused on the doors waiting for the great appearance but the people from backstage were joking opening a door and then another. My phone battery was going to die if I kept waiting like that. Lack of foresight on my part because I had not expected to see myself in that situation a few hours before.

Until the master of ceremonies arrived dressed in a kilt and began to make jokes and cheer the audience. Now I know that, during that waiting time and the appearance of the emcee, Sam arrived and spent those minutes taking photos and signing the cards and books that would then be drawn at the end.

Yes, there was a raffle at the end, but I'll get to that.

And the big moment arrived and with it the madness, well, you'll be tired of watching videos of the grand entrance. Luckily for me he entered through the door closest to where he was sitting and I could see it in his full height.

And with him I also noticed two bodyguards who were part of the entourage that accompanied him to the stage.

The panel does not deserve that I tell you much more than what has been seen, it is there for those who want to see it in the usual places. Correct, funny and affable with the translator (thank goodness, I thought I wasn't going to find out anything), the interview was about what we already know or have seen in other events or interviews.

My shipper side was happy. Cait is always present in one way or another. At first he said that he practiced Spanish with her on set when he found out that he was coming to Spain (something unnecessary to say when the event was about him) and then, watching the scene at the printing press when he said that she shined . 🥰

The magical moment, for me, was when they aired the wedding clip, Jamie Fraser introducing himself to Claire with his full name. A chorus of voices recited the long Scotsman's name at once, myself included.

That was the moment, it is when you feel part of a community.

But there were also uncomfortable moments for women who do not know the limits of decorum and knowing how to be. Yelling things at Sam that would make him feel uncomfortable. The moderator had to divert the conversation on a couple of occasions. I will only put, for example, that they shouted insisting that they put on the wedding, the wedding night. Or comparing Sam to Jamie and asking how they were alike and yelling that it was her body. Sam deflected saying that was a body double.

That is the problem that I see in these meetings, the objectification and only considering it a piece of meat. And the liberties that certain fans want to take.

And as he arrived, he left, surrounded by security and with the phones taking photos and videos to save the last memory.

The doors were closed again and they wouldn't let people out…because there was going to be a raffle.

Then I understood Movistar's strategy in this event, intelligent and that made security very good. All the people were held in their places until Sam left, the same as when he arrived. Thus, complicated situations were avoided. No fences were needed at the entrance for that reason, it was never the intention to let Sam get close to people.

It may have been something that disappointed many, but it was much better that way.

And with the raffle came moments of embarrassment, because the bottle of water from which he had drunk was even raffled… anyway.🙄

The fun thing about the raffle is that there were signed books, Scottish cushions, cards with his autograph,… but do you know what really drove people crazy? The fan that he had used and he got a girl from our group hahaha.

Photos? I did a few but they weren't very good and I knew much better photos would be posted and videos too, I preferred to look at the stage and enjoy.

I will remember being able to be in the right place at the right time, thanks to the great generosity of my fan friend. Without her this would not have been possible and neither would I have been able to share my experience with you.

Will I repeat if the occasion arises again? I don't know, honestly. It has been magical because it was unique in Spain and that is why it is already special. When the time comes, if it comes, I'll think about it.

For that, thank you, thank you, thank you for doing the impossible so that I could enter the event. My little, jovial and nervous Fairy Godmother 🥰

Thank you, also to those enthusiastic girls who accompanied her and to whom I was able to put a face to several of them.

And thanks to Sam for having been encouraged to finally come to my country.

#Sam Heughan #Welcome Madrid Sam #my thoughts

[racinginchid3nt]

Happier Than Ever | Part Five

Y/N x Pierre Gasly, Y/N Best Friend x Lance Stroll

Whirlwind romances with professional athletes certainly have their perks, or do they?

Inspired by Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish

Warnings:

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Sunday night Y/N texted to let you know that she had moved up her flight and gone home. Rushing to call her, your message went straight to voicemail, a sign that she had turned her phone off.

It took three more days before Y/N Best Friend returned your calls.

“Y/N I am so relieved to here your voice. I know that you prefer to handle things on your own, but please please never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“You’re sorry? Babe you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry about. Are you okay?”

“Physically or mentally?” She asked.

“Both!”

“I have a broken rib and had to get stitches in my foot.”

“What do you need me to do? I can get on a plane right now! Do you need me to order you groceries to your apartment? How can I help until I get there?” You asked.

“No no don’t come! You don’t need to come.”

“I DO need to come. Someone needs to take care of you Y/N!”

“Someone already is…” She whispered.

“Y/N what does that mean?”

“Lance is here.”

“Lance is where?”

“Lance is here. In Barcelona. In my apartment right now.”

“Lance is at your apartment?” You asked, the shock evident in your voice.

“Uh yeah, he showed up Sunday night out of nowhere and he forced me to the clinic.” She replied.

“Remind me to send Lance a fruit basket.” You laughed.

The two of you chatted a bit longer, you repeatedly asking if she was sure that you didn’t need to rush to her side. Wrapping up the call, you made her promise to text you at least once a day, or you would barge into her apartment like Lance had.

————————————————————————

Sunday

The Italian GP had been incredible. While you certainly couldn’t root for Max, watching him win his tenth race in a row had been exhilarating. And the back and forth between Charles and Carlos towards the end had been some of the most exciting racing you had seen all season.

Pierre’s race had gone poorly, the Alpines both running bad. Lance has done even worse, earning himself a P16. He had avoided you all weekend, despite your repeated attempts to thank him for helping Y/N Best Friend. You hoped you could corner him after media, a task he couldn’t skip. But as the interviews wore on and he failed to show up to the media pen, you wondered if he was skipping? Could he do that? If anyone was able to I guess it would be him. He could afford to pay whatever fee the FIA imposed on him.

As you watched the rest of the after race interviews, you couldn’t help but smile looking at Charles. It had been a hard season for the Ferrari diver, and you couldn’t remember the last time he had seemed genuinely happy after a race despite not landing on the podium.

That was where Pierre found you after his press duties. He grabbed your hand and kissed you heavily, taking your breathe away. Dazed you failed to look up at him, missing the angry look on his face as he dragged you back to the paddock.

————

The two weeks between races passed in relative ease. You and Pierre returned to his home in Milan for the short break.

He spent the time working out harder than ever, cycling in the sauna and racing on the sim. Singapore was known for its oppressively warm humid weather every year, and the drivers often went above and beyond to prep for it.

As soon as you stepped off the plane you were sweating. You had never experienced weather link this, and you hoped that the fact that the race was at night would mean it would be a bit more mild.

————

Thursday

You woke up in the hotel room alone on Thursday morning. Checking your phone you saw it was already past lunch, the jet lag having taken its effect on your sleep schedule.

Pulling out your phone, you saw a text.

Replying to his text you out your phone away and made you way to the shower to get ready for the rest of the day.

You spent an hour video calling Y/N Best Friend, talking about the race weekend and what you had planned. This was the longest you had spoken to her since the last race, and it was nice to see her, even if it was through the phone.

When you brought up how she had spent the last two weeks with Lance, a small smile graced her face.

“You so like Lance.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I don’t know why you’re lying! It is totally like that. You LIKE LIKE him Y/N Best Friend! You smile whenever I mention him.” You chastised.

A blush colored her cheeks, supporting your theory even more.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too attached to him is all.” She replied.

“I think it’s a little late for that Y/N Best Friend. He’s obviously attached to you.”

“No he’s just being a friend.”

“Babe, friends don’t take private jets to their friends houses and move themselves in for days at a time to make sure their friends are okay.”

As you thought through your statement, a feeling of regret came over you.

“Hey Y/N Best Friend?”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to Barcelona. I love Pierre and traveling and everything that comes with it, but I hate that it means I wasn’t there for you.”

“Y/N…. I know. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you that I left Saturday night. I just needed some time to really process on my own. Please don’t feel bad about it.”

She quickly turned the conversation to something lighter, discussing the upcoming race and what you were planning to wear.

————

“Babe? Are you here?” Pierre’s voice called out.

“Yeah in here!”

He walked up to you, giving you a gentle kiss.

“Did you get up to anything fun today?”

“No I’ve been hanging out in the room. I talked to Y/N Best Friend for a bit but that’s all.” You replied.

“Do you want to go do something fun?” He asked, eyes twinkling.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise! Change into some workout clothes.”

————

Pierre had a called for a car to bring you to the surprise while you changed. Sliding into the backseat, he closed the door behind you, before joining you in the backseat.

The car ride took about 20 minutes, going through the city and into the surrounding smaller towns. As you went further and further from the hotel, you wondered where you could be going.

The car stopped in a gravel parking lot, trees and foliage surrounding the area. Pierre opened the door from you, whispering something to the driver, before grabbing a backpack from the trunk of the car. As you looked around at the signs you saw km markers, and arrows pointing in various directions.

“Where are we?” You asked.

“We’re going on a hike.” He replied, smiling.

The hike in its entirety took only 25 minutes, only a few kilometers in length. The two of you chatted as you walked, talking about what had happened at media day and how excited Pierre was for some of the changes made to the car for the race.

The further you walked, the trees started to clear and lead to an opening. As you got closer, Pierre reached for your hand, dragging you towards the edge of the trail. You were standing on the top of a small hill, overlooking the coastline.

He stopped and opened up the backpack, pulling out a small blanket and laying it out. He reached inside and pulled out a small cooler. He had packed for a picnic, sandwiches, bottled water, and some type of cake. When you finished your sandwiches, you turned your focus to dessert.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Pandan cake. The green comes from the pandan.” He replied.

The taste was unlike anything you had ever tried. Coconuty and hints of banana flavor.

“Where did you find this?” You asked.

He launched into a story about a video that they had filmed that morning for the alpine socials, trying various foods from Singapore and rating them on a scale of 1-10.

You carried on with your chatting, watching the Sun begin to set over the horizon.

————————————————————————

A/N: I got multiple messages from people who were NOT happy with Pierre’s behavior. Do we think this makes up for it at all?

Also, if you haven’t yet read the Lance Stroll x Y/N Best Friend story line yet, you can find part one here

#f1 fanfic #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #f1

[raraeavesmoriendi]

I just finished last night and I have some questions for people who have read mike bockoven’s fantasticland -

[for those who have not:

- take a climate change-charged hurricane that’s the worst noaa has seen in recent memory and the first to hit daytona beach since 1960

- throw it at a Not-Disney-World Florida theme park with major national nostalgia, where a bunch of the Not-Disney College Program kids and some adult staff have opted to get paid extra to stay inside the park through the storm to prevent looting

- watch as people trapped within the park for more than a month - still with plenty of food and water, mind you - lose their minds, fragment into factions, and begin going full battle royale/lord of the flies on each other

- tell the whole thing testimonial style with different witnesses interviewed each chapter, a la World War Z, with some insanely unreliable narrators to boot

if that sounds like your kind of horror novel, give it a go. it’s not perfect (especially when they call the factions ‘tribes,’ which. yikes.) but I tore through it in like, two days.]

okay, questions below, spoilers for the novel:

1. …is the pirate who comforted the little boy who was evacuating, in interview three with the kansas city dad, Brock Hockley? am I reading too much into that?

like. I don’t remember that we ever get a description of him, so I don’t know about the “weird beard/mustache thing” the dad describes, but just. the emphasis put on “I’d like to shake his hand. I might even give him a hug.” feels so purposeful. part of me wonders if that’s supposed to add some further hindsight horror to what happened in the park and then his prison interview. he says early that he found making little kids happy a fulfilling and rewarding part of his job as a character actor in the park, and we know other people found him charismatic enough to follow, not just because they were scared but bc he could have these moments of surface-level charm or rationality (the code, etc.)

idk, I just thought it felt a bit too one-off to read it as Just Some Guy. but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I could be wrong.

2. we never get any hint as to the identity of the warthog couple, right? I remember the FNG found their masks discarded outside the World Circus, they’re first mentioned in the book as hanging around/inside the circus, and the guy from the Dreamland Hotel interview talks about still getting postcards from them whenever he moves (scariest part of the whole book for me ngl), so we can assume they were walked out with the rest of the survivors. I just wasn’t sure if there was anything else to do with them that I missed.

I’m still thinking about the fact that they turned the Dreamland lobby into a torture theater. like… who was that for? just for them, or did they have an audience? probably not, right? since they weren’t affiliated with anyone? but still. also, who were they taking there, just people they could pick off???

hmm. I wonder if any casualties thought to be faction-related were actually theirs.

3. in Travis’s interview (the guy with the body camera), do we know who the girl is that they found in the crawlspace of the employee locker room? the one whispering “Mommy” over and over? there were enough survivors left that she could be someone we didn’t encounter before, but I just thought I’d check that there wasn’t some other interview where someone describes a girl running off to hide. the Anonymous shopgirl mentioned one of the girls disappeared during the cannon raid on Pirate turf with the Deadpool soldiers before they turned on each other, so I wondered if it could be her.

4. Brock in his interview mentions that Sam Garlieck’s people were terrorizing others during the power outage in the storm shelter, specifically mentioning an instance of sexual assault. does anyone else corroborate this in their interview? Adam Jakes sounds skeptical, saying his research would have turned that up by now, but the only people we really hear from about that period are Sam himself (obviously an unreliable narrator, like, duh) and Stuart Dietz, who mentioned that Sam definitely killed Maria Flynn. did anyone see any other mentions of this anywhere, or did we just move straight out of the storm shelters and never talk about them again once we get to the park? is this just Brock being an unreliable narrator himself to justify how things went down? (but then why would he need to be, when Bryce definitely died?? although he himself says that wasn’t as big a motivator as people writing about him want it to be, so maybe that’s moot)

5. not really a question just an observation: Stuart Dietz, the maintenance guy/Mole Man, is the only person to get two interviews in the entire novel. Not Sam, not Jill, not Brock. I don’t know, I just find that really interesting why he was selected to come back twice. I know part of it is to describe the botched demolition, but I’m also wondering what effect it has on the novel that the only person we hear from multiple times is an older dude from one of the pointedly non-aggressive factions.

6. in looking through posts already in the tag, I don’t quite follow some readers’ comments that there was an attempt at a “cell phones bad!!” message here. I feel like every time it’s come up, it’s been shown by Adam Jakes (author stand-in) to be minimizing what really happened and looking for an easy scapegoat. I don’t think that was part of the intended story at all, I think it’s just been stated over and over as people using an excuse to not think themselves capable of similar violence. just wanted to put that out there.

anyway. one of my favorite things about novels with multi-witness perspectives is finding threads that leave off in one person’s story and pick up in another, so I’m going through my digital copy and highlighting all the places two different interviews tie together (Austin’s fate, the guy who botched branding Adrienne as part of his Pirate initiation, etc.)

if anyone else has noticed anything interesting, I’m all ears 👀

#fantasticland #mike bockoven #horror novels #it’s been a while that I’ve been so taken by a book that I stop to write a post about it #especially when I have housekeeping chores looming over my shoulder #glenn guignol is my favorite to no one’s surprise #his name was a delightful reference and the character delivered on that #if I had to do the v thing the novel calls out and over-identify with a faction it would be the Freaks #bc I feel like I’ve had to build myself up to be scarier than I was to be left alone at various times when I was younger #so that would be my strategy too v likely #although then I would have to grapple with if it only spread further panic and hysteria so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯