#if you read the text i am so sorry i am just a raised christian agnostic bastard who read homestuck and has been obsessed with classpecting
Text
Hello everyone. It’s been a long long time since I posted here but I guess life has caught up. I have been writing this chapter for god knows how long because I just couldn’t bring myself to write certain scenes. I still have so many ideas and directions about where this fic can go but as you understand, I need my time to actually try and write those ideas. I am now giving you the 8th chapter of this story which is a generous 14.6 K words to make up for my long long absence. I really hope there will be people still interested to read this. Always keep in mind that english isn’t my native language so pardon any mistakes or inclarities. I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Wait patiently for the next part. Take Care, xx.
All’s Fair
(Toto Wolff x Reader) Chapter 8
chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7
Landing in Jeddah feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, after closing the deal with the Bahraini investors from your Monday meeting, is the only thing you could have asked for. Nothing has been bothering you for the past few days but the fact that Christian still hasn't said anything about you being late to your meeting, made you feel a little weird. Your little text exchanges with Toto made up for the whole madness.
As soon as your phone connects to the network you see a new notification popping up.
Christian Dad Horner
No need to come over today, I got everything scheduled for the press, me and Helmut will handle it
Get some rest.
You raise your eyebrow reading , not knowing what your father is up to. Is he drunk? Is he out of his mind? You lock your phone and get off the plane. You check in your hotel, go to your room and settle in. As you take your clothes off your suitcase you find once again Toto’s Mercedes shirt in it and you take it out and put it on a hanger and in your closet. Thursdays are supposed to be a fun day in the paddock because of all the media and generally relaxed vibe that everyone has. The fact that no sessions take place on Thursdays doesn’t mean everyone isn’t working hard but still Christian thought your presence was not necessary, so here you are. Your phone rings with a new notification
Wolff
What’s your schedule for the press today?
You
Christian told me he and Helmut will handle it, I won’t be joining today
I am just bored, sitting in my hotel room
You open the camera on the app and snap a picture of your computer on your bed and some snacks nearby and you hit send
Wolff
So you get to relax.
Enjoy it for all of us who have to work
You
Will do :)
You spend the rest of your day in your room and meet Max to grab dinner at the hotel restaurant. Much less eventful for a usual race week Thursday.
The next day you wake up, have breakfast and get ready to leave for the track. You check you have everything you need with you including your iPad and your badge to get in the paddock and you drive the Aston Martin, you lease for the weekend, to the track. You get to the entrance and scan your badge. To your surprise the screen in front of you shows a red cross and a message saying ‘Access Denied’. You try once again but the same message appears. You reach for your phone to call Christian to get you from the entrance. You wait for a couple of seconds before you hear his voice, the noise from the garage familiar to your ears.
“Hey Dad”
“Hello” you hear him answering
“It seems like my pass isn’t working, can you please come here and let me through?” you ask
“Oh I am quite busy right now sweetheart.”
“Can you send someone else instead?”
“Um, I am sorry I have to tell you this but there’s a reason why your pass isn’t working.”
“What ?”
“It is going to remain like this for sometime, before I trust you to come back to the team”
“Did you cancel my pass because of what happened on Monday?”
“You should have been ready for this. I can’t discuss it more right now, we are having a meeting before FP1”
“Can you at least let me know about the meeting?”
“No, you are not in the team currently so, nothing to share. Feel free to fly back to England or Monaco with the next flight you find” Christian tells you and then ends the call.
Thank god you thought about moving a bit further from the entrance so no one heard your discussion with your father. You feel a rush of anger coming at you but you hold yourself and walk as gracefully as you can back to your car, as people are watching you. You drive off the track and you pull over at the first parking space you see. You sit there in silence, since you were so confused that you didn’t even think to put some of your playlists on, and you try to realize what is happening. You let out a scream and tears roll over your face as you think of your father and all his five year old antics. But then you get the best and the worst idea you could possibly come up with. You drive fast back to your hotel and you run to your suite. You open the closet, grab Toto’s Mercedes shirt, stuff it in your new bag that you haven’t worn in public, put on some tight black pants, some flat shoes and search furiously for that Mercedes face mask that Toto gave you that day in your travel bag. You get back to your car and drive to the track again, pulling over to wear the shirt and making yourself look like a mercedes employee. You leave the car a bit farther than usual so that fans don’t recognize you coming out of the car with the Mercedes gear. You once again walk to the paddock entrance. Hair tied on a bun, face mask and huge Gucci sunglasses covering your face. You get there not having thought of a way to get in. So you go with your instincts.
“Hey” you say to the security guard.
“Hi, how may I help you?”
“Um, I am a new employee for Mercedes but I can’t seem to find my badge to get in.” you say with the best American accent that you have. Not that it mattered since the guard was Saudi Arabian. “Can you maybe call Mr. Wolff to come here? I’ll explain the situation to him”
“I’ll reach Mr Lord.” he says
“No, no. You should call Mr.Wolff instead. I am not sure Mr. Lord is aware of my arrival here.”
“I’ll try to call Mr. Wolff then.”
5 minutes later you see the Austrian walking to the entrance of the paddock and on his way there he waves to people, greets others and takes some photos.
He goes to the security guard that called him
“What is it?” he asks
“This lady claimed that she’s a new employee for your team but she seems to have lost her badge, she insisted that I should call you instead of Mr. Lord.”
Toto turns to look at you and you don’t hesitate. If you are going to get in, this is your chance.
“Hello Mr. Wolff. My name is Mindy Roosevelt, I am here from the American branch of Daimler.” you say-again in your american accent- not being even 1% sure that you are making any sense. “I was sent here to assist you but it has been a really tricky week for me.” you look at Toto and he looks as confused as ever. “I was supposed to be here yesterday but my flight was canceled so I had to travel to Abu Dhabi to catch a connecting flight.” you try to give him hints of who you are, not being sure he understands. “ I had to look for the advisor of Daimler US Anri Hakkassan to give me my badge but then my wallet got stolen at the airport so I was left without a badge and my ID to show you who I am.” you see Toto’s eyes getting wider and wider as he realizes who you are. Your story seemed convincing for the security guard but Toto can’t leave you outside. He takes a deep breath
“Ah yes miss Roosevelt I was waiting for you all day. Sorry to hear this. Come on.” he says and signals to the guard to let you through. You walk in the paddock and to the Mercedes hospitality, Toto not hesitating for a minute at the thought of you coming from another team. As soon as you both get in you see Bradley drinking coffee in the main lounge area of the motorhome and he greets you.
“I don’t want anyone bothering me for the next half an hour at least” he says to Bradley and he walks to his office as you follow him closely. You close the door behind you and Toto reaches and locks it. You take off your mask trying to apologize for the mess you’ve created.
“I am so sorry Toto” you say and you hear him laugh
“What is this?” he asks as he continues laughing
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I am just wondering how the hell you got yourself in this situation.”
“Christian blocked my paddock pass”
“He did what?” he asks looking slightly amused
“This isn’t funny Toto, you know how much I love being in the team”
“That’s why you are hijacking my team?” he asks
“Christian thought that removing me from the team for a couple of races is a good way to punish me for being late at that meeting we had.”
“He did it just because you were 35 minutes late?”
“You don’t realize Christian has a mind of a five year old when it’s about work right?”
“You said the investors were not mad that you were late, you even managed to charm them into signing a deal.”
“Yeah but Christian was mad, and he says it’s not about the investment, it’s about basic work ethic. Anyways, I can’t buy a paddock pass because I am not the type to sit in the lounge to watch the race. I need to be in the team. Plus I can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me depressed because I am not at the pitwall or the garage.”
“How stubborn.”
“Yeah I am.”
“That’s very Horner of you.” he tells you and you roll your eyes at his obvious reference to your father’s stubbornness.
“You are my only chance Toto, the other teams don’t even have a reason to accept me, except from Alpha Tauri, but I can’t go begging Franz about a paddock pass when he is clearly influenced by my dad.”
“Why are we even your only chance, we are your main competitors.” he asks
“I swear to god Toto I will do anything just to be here until Christian decides to drop the farce that he started. I will sign an NDA, I will keep my mouth shut about anything I see, I will delete it from my mind. Just let me be in the garage for the next few races.”
“How many races?” he looks at you
“I don’t know 3 maybe 4?” you tell him barely whispering.
“That’s a lot.” he replies “But for you I’ll try to do my best.”
You try not to scream as you stand up from your seat, walk to his chair and hug him. You catch him off guard as he widens his eyes but then you feel his tension leaving him.
“From now on you are Mindy Roosvelt and you came here to assist me as a part of your internship at Daimler US. You studied in New York, and you are American. You don’t know for how many races you’ll be here but it’s not long term.” Toto says taking his teacher look
“Understood.”
“You should never remove your mask in front of others, just tell them that you are at risk or something. Don’t wear high heels. We should do something about your hair so that people won’t realize it’s you and I advise you to wear sunglasses as much as possible, I’ll have Lewis hand me his collection from the Police Collaboration.”
“I’ll buy a wig. Can I have some more shirts and a couple of masks?”
“Is this shirt mine?” he asks and you nod “Looks good on you.” he says
“I’ll use yours then.” you tell him and you see him grinning.
“I’ll have someone send you a couple of shirts, pants and shoes. I'll request your new paddock pass and I will be printing your NDA.”
“If anything leaks into Red Bull I swear I’ll be the first to go to court even if I am innocent.” you tell him and he laughs “Don’t laugh, I need you to see how serious I am about this. I won’t be saying anything to anyone.”
“I trust you. The NDA part is only about the team having to be legally protected.”
“Okay” you say
“Your office must be ready. It’s just the room next door, please lock it when you’re in.” he advises you “And please don’t forget your American accent once you go outside.”
“I won’t forget. If we happen to see Christian around, just stay calm, I’ll handle it.”
“Okay” he says and you sit in silence for a couple of minutes.
“I’ll go next door now.” you say and you stand up. “Oh sorry Toto, can I ask you about one last thing?”
“What is it?”
“Christian told me that I am free to leave with the next flight so I will be checking out of the hotel and I thought maybe I should be at the Mercedes hotel?”
“I’ll arrange it. See you later.” he replies as you put on your mask and go to the room next door.
20 minutes later you hear the door knocking, you stand up and reach for it
“Who is this?”
“Miss Roosevelt, I am Mariah. Mr. Wolff gave me something for you.”
You put your mask on and open the door
“Come on in.” you tell her and she steps into your fake office
“I have this new iPad for you, Toto wanted you to have this. It has all of the passwords you’ll need and direct access to Toto’s schedule so you’ll know where you will be going and what you’ll be doing.”
“What passwords are there?”
“Company email, team communications and private accounts.”
“Okay thank you Mariah.”
“If you need anything else please do not hesitate to ask me, have a nice day.” she tells you and she leaves the office as you lock the door and remove your mask
You reach for your phone and text Toto
You
Didn’t need to have access to all of this
Wolff
You have to If we are planning this lie correctly.
I also sent you the details on your company email about the hotel room. I arranged it.
You
Give me a minute I’ll have to get used to all of this.
The iPad is nice, I’ll give it back once I get all the details.
Wolff
Adaptability is key
Keep the iPad I don’t want you walking around the paddock with your old one, it’s practically a part of your looks, everyone will realize it’s you
Wolff
Anyways gotta work, I will be in the garage with Nyck for FP1, you’re welcome to hang by the fantasy island if you ever get the energy.
For any question just text or call.
You sit around for a while until your phone rings with a new notification from your calendar for the session starting in 5 minutes and as soon as you get it you stand up and leave for the garage. This time though it feels different. You used to take all your stuff with you in your pit wall seat but now there’s no pitwall seat, you’ll be just standing next to Toto, in the garage. You never got to stay in the garage, Christian always made sure you had a place at the pitwall, the garage was essentially a passage to get from the hospitality to the pitwall. You never spent a whole session in there, but now you will. The difference is the garage is not the one you are used to. It’s the Mercedes one and it’s clean, organized and much more hospitable than the one at Red Bull. At the long entrance of the garage there’s someone looking at you, making sure that you’re one of them. Little does he know, you think.
“I am looking for Mr. Wolff.” you tell him
“He’s sat at the fantasy island with Nyck. You’ll see them once you get in.”
And you certainly do. The fantasy island splits the garage in two smaller ones for the two drivers of Mercedes, you get next to Toto and you don’t say a word. You look around you trying to take everything in, how the garage looks, how everyone is focused on what they’re doing and Toto next to you trying to manage everything that’s happening. He’s too far in to realize that you’re next to him and he nearly jumps as you touch his arm.
“Sorry” you say quietly behind your mask.
“It’s okay, I never realized that you came.”
“Well, I couldn’t turn down the proposal, plus I am supposed to be your assistant so I have to be with you.”
“I am not complaining.” he says and thank god Nyck is too busy chatting with Bradley next to you. Bradley hasn’t asked anything about you, he just keeps looking and staring at you but he’s not saying anything.
For the next half an hour you see Lewis and George doing their laps, coming and leaving the garage during the session but during all this time you realize that you haven’t looked at the RedBull’s performances. The Mercedes garage felt like home for some reason. You weren’t doing nothing, you were just standing with your headphones on hearing comments about the car that you swear to yourself that you will never reveal to your team. Next to you Toto sits and watches the whole team working like a well oiled machine that he engineered. You are sure that he feels proud of himself, he has that grin on his face that makes you think so. You don’t know him really well but you have learned to pick some of those signs from the times that you’ve seen him around or that you’ve hung out with him. Again all of your thoughts are interrupted by a vibration from your pocket where your phone is. Goddamn it. Another calendar reminder but this time it is from Toto’s calendar that you’ve managed to sync to your iPhone earlier.
Meeting: Team Principals, FIA and F1. (1 assistant is allowed to attend)
You widen your eyes at the notification and you tap Toto’s shoulder who is watching the timings and the data in front of him. He turns to look at you and removes the headphone from your side. You do the same but you realize Nyck is looking at you.
“Sir, I just got a notification about your meeting with the F1 and FIA execs.”
“It is half an hour after the session ends right?”
“Yes but am I required to attend?” you ask
“Miss Roosevelt I believe that you were asked to be here as my assistant so since the meeting allows assistants it is your duty to be there.”
“Okay Mr. Wolff” you say and put your headphones back on to watch the rest of the session.
“If you feel uncomfortable just excuse yourself and leave.” he turns and tells you and you nod.
After the session in which your cars -yes, Mercedes cars- finish 1 and 3 you leave the garage and go back to the hospitality while waiting for Toto to finish his press duties.
Wolff
I am done with my interviews, meet you outside our hospitality in 5?
You
Yes, I will be there.
You leave and find him at the spot he told you to. You walk side by side to the race control building where the meeting is supposed to take place, him towering over you and you feeling miniscule beside him. When you are just outside Alpha Tauri’s garage you see your dad discussing with Franz and you roll your eyes praying that they will just let you go by. You get temporarily relieved when you are already past them but of course Christian has to talk to you. The man is trouble without trying. You hear him yelling “Hey Toto” from your back and you turn to face him. Toto frowns a bit but his expressions are mostly covered by his sunglasses.
“Are you heading to the meeting?” Christian asks
“We are, yes.” Toto replies as you keep walking, Christian catching up with you. You take a sharp breath trying to persuade yourself that he won’t understand who you are. You’ve got your face covered after all.
“I’ll join you.” Christian announces not even asking Toto who is clearly getting angrier. “I don’t believe we’ve met before” he says and turns to you.
You freeze but you regain your strength and reply to him “No, we actually haven't.”
“I am Christian Horner, team principal of Red Bull Racing.”
“Mindy Roosevelt, nice to meet you.” you say in your best American accent hoping that you won’t get recognized.
“And you work for Mercedes I see. Let me guess’ Public Relations?”
“No, I am here to assist Mr. Wolff for a couple of races, it is something like an internship from the American branch of Daimler.”
“I figured from the accent that you might be American.” Christian replies “Are you planning on staying at Daimler or leaving to get a job at motorsport?”
“I don’t know yet I’ll see where it gets me.” you answer
“If you plan on staying here please text me your details, I got a very interesting assistant position for you.”
“You had your daughter as your assistant from the beginning of the season, what happened to her?” you ask, trying to understand what he’s doing but you hear his phone ringing.
“It’s complicated with her, I need something stable, and I know Wolff always gets the best of the best so I might have to get a taste.” he replies as Toto, who was silent before, scoffs in the background. Christian checks his phone and excuses himself as he runs back to the Alpha Tauri hospitality center.
You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as you are walking to the meeting.
“Red Bull will be trying to have technical directives for the next few races to try and stop us.” Toto says.
“I know, I built that case and all the arguments. I know exactly what to say to convince the FIA in favor of Red Bull.” you reply “Can I talk during the meeting?” you ask
“What do you mean talk?”
“Like defending our team’s points, why technical directives shouldn’t be changed, and counterarguments.”
“No, your role is the one of the assistant, not the meeting participant. You will only be allowed there to keep notes.”
“I can write my points to you and you can read them and elaborate more, can’t I?”
“Yes, you can write notes for me to read.”
“Nice, let’s get no regulation change for today.”
“Isn’t this bad for Red Bull?”Toto asks
“Right now I am working for Mercedes, and Mercedes is only treating me right.” you answer
Toto raises his eyebrows “I am both flattered and surprised by the fact that you want to favor us.”
“You know what Toto? I am tired of thinking how Christian and Helmut will be using my case to present in this meeting. I worked hard for this and I was supposed to present my point. This meeting was supposed to be my first one.”
“Didn’t you go when you were younger?”
“No, I didn’t Christian always had his assistant with him and never managed to get me in even when I started working part-time for him. It is frustrating to see how your own father looks to replace you at a job. And now the team that I accidentally got in, even has the ability to read my notes and present a solid case.”
Toto doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you, his body language revealing that he is scared to say anything to you.
“Am I really that bad?” you ask
“No. Don’t you ever say that again. You were great, you got a deal with some investors, you helped run a team and you are doing a good job at even being an assistant in the team you probably hated the most.”
10 minutes later you are already sitting at a long table. Toto is sitting on your left. You take your new iPad and a Mercedes notepad with a matching pen and rest it on the conference table in front of you as team principals and other officials are taking their seats to start the meetings. Once everyone is gathered there Stefano starts the meeting with all the formalities needed the conversation starts and after a while you start discussing the burning issue. You open your updated document that you had created this morning with all the arguments and the possible answers that could be said from Mercedes’ side, those ones you hadn’t given to your father. This was only to help your presentation to get the regulations changed but now you are using it for the opposite reason. Christian finishes presenting all the planned points and it’s time for Toto to express his opinion. You managed to write a couple of things on paper and showed him some of the points that he needs to discuss. The man has done this countless times you’re sure but he’s totally letting you handle this.
“Okay, this is an answer to Christian’s concerns about how the regulations right now are not in the right direction. I do not have an exact answer to each and every point of Christian’s speech but I will be trying to get most of them.” he says and glances at the paper in front of him “I’ll start by Christian’s point that the issue affects multiple teams, when in fact it’s not even the majority of the grid that faces the issue that you are aiming to get changed. I can’t see the reason for the regulation change, clearly it’s not that dangerous to drivers health according to doctors and also it would be a huge waste of our resources to just redesign certain aspects of the car when we have the budget cap this year. That’s how I see it.” Toto finishes his monologue and all the eyes are on him.
“Clearly there will be a vote for this.” Stefano says
“Thank you for the notes.” Toto says turning to you and you nod back
Later on the vote takes place and the results are the ones that you expected. That means increased performance from Mercedes and Red Bull chasing them right behind. In other circumstances you would be fuming but now you are happy Mercedes got the chance to stop the regulation changes with your help. The meeting ends and you lobby around for a little longer but afterwards you are back to the paddock walking to the garage for the second practice session. Toto walks by your side and you feel he wants to ask you about what happened there but before he can you inform him you will need some time in your office and you leave him behind.
You get back to your office and you text your friend Sara who lives in Monaco
You
Are you in Monaco?
Sara
Of course I am in Monaco.
The question is where are you?
You
Issues with dad, he won’t let me enter the paddock because I was late in a business meeting and now he removed me from the team
Still in Jeddah though
Listen, I need a favor from you and your magic contacts in Monaco
Sara
I don’t wish to know more about the dad-daughter drama
But I am here to help you with whatever you want
You
I need a place to stay in Monaco
Sara
You can crash on mine or I’ll book you a hotel
You
I am thinking more of an apartment tbh
Sara
How long do you plan on staying here?
You
Permanently?
Sara
OMG, you’ll become a fellow Monegasque?
I will be in contact with my estate agent
You
Yes, I am planning to finally start living in Monaco. I don’t even know if Christian will take me back to the team to be honest but even if he does I can still live in Oxfordshire or in my apartment in London.
Sara
How fast do you need it?
You
As soon as possible please
You lock your phone as you take a deep breath to realize the decision that you just took. Moving to Monaco has always been your dream, since you have been to the Grand Prix there you fell in love with the place and you have spent quite some time in Sara’s house during the summer when you were younger. But now you want to do this alone, you want to feel independent in the country that you loved so much. You immediately think of contacting your father. You decide email is the best option. If he wants to be a bitch so will you
Hello father,
I am sending this email to inform you about my decisions. I will be moving to Monaco in the next couple of weeks, on my own. I believe I will be able to make my own living with the money I currently have. I am requesting my last paycheck from the team since I have been fired and I am not aware of your intentions to hire me back or not. I wish that my personal space in our estate in Oxfordshire remains unchanged in case I am able to return to my obligations to the team, and I inform you that the apartment in London will still be mine. I am still in Saudi Arabia arranging my flight to Monaco. I will be quite busy during the next few weeks so I will not be able to contact you. Should you decide that I am able to come back to the team please inform me.
Wishing you the best.
And send.
You go back to the garage 20 minutes in the session and you spot Toto sitting alone at the top of the fantasy island wearing a pair of headphones while another one is resting on the desk in front of him. You go to his right and check the timings. Currently Mercedes 1-2. He looks at you and removes the headset so he can listen. He hands you the spare headset.
“Isn’t this Nyck’s?” you ask
“No this is yours, Nyck is not joining us at this session.”
“Thank you” you say and you wear the headphones
During the rest of the session Toto shows you all the graphs about the car performance as well as all the communications systems in the team. You are convinced that he is not supposed to do that, it’s knowledge that an assistant could live without knowing and wouldn’t affect their job but still he seems so invested in letting you understand how the team works. This experience is not about gathering information for Red Bull, you think. It’s more about how a team should be and how correct management is done. Something that you feel is missing from Red Bull. The session finishes and Lewis and George are back to the garage with another top 3 finish for the team.
As soon as your day ends you drive your Aston Martin back to the Red Bull hotel, pack your baggage, check out and drive to the airport where you are supposed to leave the car. When you manage to do so you go to the car rental area of the airport and visit the kiosk of the company Toto texted you about and get the keys to a brand new Mercedes AMG. Shortly after that you get dressed with your Mercedes gear once again and drive to the Ritz-Carlton to check into your new room.
Turns out Toto has not only arranged a room for you but it’s also a huge fucking suite that you’re sure most Mercedes employees wouldn’t even consider having. You take a look at the suite and you open the closet door to find it full of Mercedes team shirts, hilfiger pants and the usual Mercedes designed puma shoes. You snap a picture of the closet and you decide to document those weeks of alternate reality that you are currently living in.
When the anxiety of the weirdest day you’ve lived wears off you check your phone for your newest messages
Sara
Gerard just reached out to me.
He has a wonderful loft 2,5 km from the Quartier Du Port.
Generally peaceful location
Sea views as well
Let me know if you want to see it.
You
If you can go there and get some pictures please do. Thank you <3
After that long day you realize that you didn’t get the chance to have a proper meal so you decide to order room service to finally eat something. You think of how pathetic it would look if you eat alone in this huge suite and before you can even cope with that thought you reach for your phone and call Toto. He picks up after 2 rings
“Hello” he says
“Hi, how’s everything?”
“Good, I am getting ready to go downstairs to the restaurant to have dinner, how are you?”
“Oh same I was thinking of getting some room service for dinner since I can’t actually go to the restaurant to eat, but the suite is big enough to not feel restricted in one room. Thanks for that by the way.”
“I am sure you’ve only lived in suites for the whole year now so I thought why not. Don’t let the rest of the team know that though.” he says and you hear his laugh on the phone. You stay quiet and he does the same but when you actually decide to say something he speaks again “Maybe we can have dinner together now” he says.
“That’s why I called you in the first place” you admit, but you think you definitely sound a bit in despair. “I can’t order food for two people though it might seem weird.”
“You can come over to my suite, I’ll make sure that it will look as if I am having a meeting with either James or Shov.” he suggests
“Is it okay?” you ask again
“Definitely, I will be ready in 10, suite 264. See you.” he says and terminates the call.
You take a look at the closet trying to decide what to wear. You choose a graphic t-shirt and your most comfortable pants paired with your white sneakers, the only flat pair of shoes that you carried with you. You take a look at the mirror, readjust your hair, put on a nude lipstick and after 10 minutes you are finally ready to leave. You put on your mask because your goal for today isn’t getting caught from walking in some hotel corridor and you navigate your way to suite 264, you knock on the door and Toto is right there letting you in. He’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a gray T-shirt but he is barefoot.
“Hey” you say and you walk in the suite looking around. It does look like your suite when it comes to furniture but the rooms are a little more private. There’s a desk that has turned out to be more like Toto’s office for the weekend. You sit on the couch while he closes the door behind you and walks in the living room. You take your mask off and sit there looking at the ceiling. Toto stands in front of you with a menu card in hand.
“I was thinking, maybe pasta?” he tells you
“That’s what I planned to order today.” you laugh as Toto reaches for the phone on the table next to the couch and orders 2 plates of pasta ai funghi with two glasses of red wine.
“They’ll be here in 30 minutes” he tells you
“Great” you reply and stand up. You look at the place around you, stand up and walk to the desk. You sit on the only chair there and you put on his round glasses and put on your serious face as you move your fingers on the mousepad of his mac which -to your surprise- is unlocked so you are able to navigate in his computer. You open up his email but still he doesn’t react even though you are looking at you closely and you start typing and reading out loud.
“Hey Michael, I am just sending you an email.” you say and you keep being serious while you hear Toto bursting in laughter at the couch.
“Lewis is the best of all time, he did nothing wrong, everything is red bull's fault.” you say again and he keeps looking at you.
You keep joking, acting like you are typing a new email “Hey FIA, it’s Toto, please let us use the das. It's a great innovation and we are so smart to think about it. We are not illegal, or at least that’s what James Allison and Shov said. It’s not our fault that we are both smart and sexy. Thank you in advance.”
“That’s not what I said” he laughs
“I’ll need proof for that.” you say “Would I make a good Toto Wolff?”
“The best. I’ll be sure to leave you in my position once I retire.”
“What will Daimler say for that though?”
“You are doing your training so why would they have an issue?” he replies and you laugh.
“Isn’t this suite a bit too big just for you?” you ask
“You have the same one but yeah it is a bit big.”
“Mine isn’t as big.” you say “Most times I feel lonely in those suites. Mine don’t have kitchens though.”
“You cook? Too bad we have ordered already.”
“Maybe another time.” you say and you hear the door knocking.
“Quite fast.” Toto says and he stands up to open the door.
You walk around the suite once again and enter his bedroom and look at the open closet which is once again full of Mercedes button ons so you grab one and put it on. You hear Toto talking and you go back to the living room but he’s still talking to the person outside the door.
“I am kinda busy here Cynthia. I am sorry.” you hear him say
“Please Toto.” a female voice replies “Is there someone else? Is that why you ordered two plates, two glasses of wine?” she asks
“Cynthia I am in the middle of a very important business meeting, it’s about tomorrow’s qualifying and James is waiting inside to eat so that we can continue our meeting. Thank you for the service.”
“Will you call me when you are done?”
“I will be asleep when we are done.Thank you” he says and closes the door.
You stand there in his living room wearing his button up feeling stupid for believing this thing could go anywhere further.
“I should get going.” you say
“Now that the food is here?” he asks but you don’t reply, “Is this shirt mine? Are you going to take this one too?”
“I will get back to my suite and you can call Cynthia, or whatever her name is, and tell her that James is gone and that you are okay for her to come back and do whatever you two do together.”
“Wait, are you jealous? Of Cynthia?”
“I am not jealous, just not in the position to get involved with someone who’s fucking around with the girl who brought him room service 3 times.”
“I am not involved with her.” he says
“Well she seemed awfully too comfortable to be just a stranger Toto.”
“What do you want to hear?” he asks
“That you’ve fucked her?” you tell him
“We slept together once last year.”
“That’s all I needed to hear. Goodbye Toto.” you say as you walk towards the door, his shirt still hanging on your shoulders but before you can leave he manages to grab your hand
“I only saw her once this year and I just said hi. We hadn’t spoken since last year but as soon as I arrived she didn't stop appearing in my way. She had reached out several times since we left last year but I never got back to her.”
“So she’s nothing to you?”
“She was just a fling.” he replies and you turn around to sit on the dining table.
“Fine” you say, irritation apparent in your voice “Am I just a fling?” you ask yourself in your head so you decide to ask the same to Toto who is holding the pasta plates leaving one in front of you and one opposite to you on the table. He doesn’t answer, instead he does the same with the two glasses of wine. His silence makes you feel like his answer is not the one that you want to hear but as he leaves the glasses on the table he doesn’t sit down, he stays there towering over you and looking at you.
“If it was just a fling I wouldn’t risk destroying my team for it. Also I wouldn’t have done anything that I’ve done for you in any case.” he replies. “Technically you can’t even call it a fling because we only made out two or three times and we were drunk.” he says and just stays still “And still there are two glasses of wine that I ordered on that table. I am never going to learn, am I ?” he laughs
“Sorry ?” you ask but he leans in, reaches for your face and kisses you catching you off guard. You stay still in your chair as he sits opposite to you not saying anything
“The wine is red” he says then
“I can see that.” you reply
“They say that red wine can get you drunk easier.”
You try to understand where he’s going with this
“And?”
“We haven’t drunk any of it yet so we are sober”
“Why are you explaining this to me like I’ve never drunk before?”
“This is the most sober that I will be tonight and you said that I didn’t have the guts to make a move without being drunk.” he says
“You won’t get drunk with a glass of wine Toto.”
“I know I won’t but still I didn’t want you to blame this on a single drop of alcohol.” he replies and you smile and you start eating. No one talks during dinner but you are laughing at each other when you’re struggling with eating the pasta without actually making a mess. It feels natural to just sit there and eat with his company, like you are finally where you are supposed to be. For this moment you forget everything else and you focus on what you are currently living. After some time you both finish your food and you see Toto standing up.
“We should finish our wine on the couch.” he says, taking his glass and you copy his moves. He sits on the couch and you do the same but you don’t sit close to him. You rest your back on the couch arm and lay there putting your feet on his lap. He turns and looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. He rests one hand on your feet and he grabs his phone with the other one unlocking it and looking at his mails.
“Do you want to work?” you ask
“It’s Friday night so no.” he replies
“Then close your phone”
“What can we do instead?”
“Talk like normal people?” you tell him
“About?” he asks
“I am thinking of moving to Monaco”
“That’s a bold choice, have you thought about it enough?” he asks
“I have and I think it’s the best thing I can do to be honest, I have some of my friends there and I really want to leave home, I really can’t deal with Christian while he keeps treating me like this.”
“That’s good.” he replies “What about going to the factory ?”
“How are you doing it? You live in Monaco and you also have to go to England at the factory.”
“It’s really tiring to be honest, you need to have a place to stay close to the factory “
“I have my apartment in London available.” you tell him
“London to Milton Keynes isn’t that easy to do on a daily basis.”
“Anyways, going to the factory isn’t my main priority right now, I am not even on the team.”
“You are on Mercedes.” he says
“Is this an invitation to Brackley?” you laugh
“You swore it was just for a few races, not that you will be staying permanently”
“It was my masterplan to get hired by Mercedes.”
“We don’t want you with us.” he jokes
“Why?” you ask
“You are distracting the team Ms. Horner.”
“How am I even distracting the team?” you say whining “People don’t even know who I am except from you.”
“You answered for me.” he tells you “And now I have to deal with you walking around Monaco.”
“Oh sorry, I’ll cancel my plans then.”
“Oh no, Monaco needs a twist.” he says and you look at him but say nothing. He doesn’t attempt to start a new conversation, he just readjusts on the couch, grabs the remote and opens the TV. He navigates through Netflix’s homepage and you eventually make him watch a movie which he tried to convince you not to watch. Again, none of you speaks during the movie. Halfway through, you realize you’re far too invested in the movie and turn to look at Toto who is fast asleep on that same couch. You decide that there’s no point in staying longer in his suite and you remove your legs from his lap as smoothly as you can, you grab your phone and your shoes which you had earlier taken off and head to the door tiptoeing.
“Stay here tonight.” you hear his raspy voice which takes you by surprise and you almost scream
“It’s better that I leave, you are tired and need some sleep.” you reply
“There’s a spare bed if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“And there’s an empty suite down the hallway.”
“Come on, aren't you bored to leave when you can just sleep here?” he tells you and well, he’s kinda right. Plus it’s not like you don’t want to spend some more time with him and it would definitely be questionable if someone saw you leaving his suite at midnight. You don’t go back to the couch but you leave your shoes down while Toto eyes every single move you make.
“It’s quali day tomorrow, we need to sleep. Come on.” you tell him and you walk to his room. Seconds later he follows you and enters the room.
“I’m taking the left side.” you say and he smiles at you with a sleepy face.
“You’re sure you don’t want to sleep in the other room?” he asks
“It’s not like it will make any difference. Except if you have a problem.”
“No, definitely not.” he replies and both of you lay on the bed, facing each other.
“I’ll wake up earlier to go to the gym, then we can get ready and hit the track. We’ll have breakfast there.” he says and you nod. He seems very calm, eyelids heavy with sleep so you decide to lean and kiss him goodnight. As you come closer to him you can now feel his scent and warmth and you put your lips on his. The kiss is slow and sweet, somehow different from the rest that the two of you had shared up to this moment.
“Goodnight Wolff.” you say
“Goodnight Horner.” he replies and both of you drift to sleep.
The next day you wake up without an alarm and you find the bed next to you empty. You hear water running and figure out that Toto must be taking his post gym shower. You keep laying there and grab your phone to go through new updates and messages. Not a lot of time passes until he emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and he holds another one trying to dry the water off his hair. You admire the sight for a while and you say “Good Morning”. He looks at you and replies
“Good Morning Horner. Slept well?”
“Very much thank you” you say “How about you?”
“Slept really well, and I started my day with a good session at the gym with George and Lewis.”
“Oh that must have been interesting. I would have loved to join you three.”
“It would be funny to see their reactions.” he replies as he dries his hair on a smaller white towel while he’s looking at the nightstand on your right where his things rest . He tosses the towel he was holding on a white chair in the room and he approaches you. He climbs on the bed and puts one hand on the headrest while his other hand is stretching to reach the IWC watch on the nightstand. His already toned muscles are a little more observable now that he’s lingering above you. You draw a sharp breath at the sight trying to contain your thoughts and your self but you still look up and stare at him while he makes sure that he gets the watch. When he actually does, he looks down at you and he catches you staring.
“What?” he asks, staying still in the same position and you don’t answer but instead you scoff. You take a quick glance on his body and you let your instincts take over. You grab him from his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He immediately reacts by holding your face with his now free hand and he pulls you closer as he deepens the kiss and bites your lip. You melt into the kiss still laying down as you feel your heart racing faster than any racing car you’ve ever seen. Your breath gets quicker as you get the sheets out of your way trying to feel his skin on yours. Toto mutters “Fuck” in between your kisses making you a little crazier. He breaks the kiss and walks to the end of the bed, he grabs your legs and starts leaving trails of kisses all the way up from your calf to your upper thigh until he stops and looks at you, eyes full of lust. He lingers above you for a second or two and he looks at you intensely trying to make sure that he has your consent for his following actions. Once you understand what this is about you nod while you're trying to regulate your breath.
"Stay still for me baby" he requests and you try to follow his order by just laying there as he dives his head between your thighs. Your breathing gets faster and deeper as he works his way down on you making you feel like you’ve never felt before. You sense his smile while his tongue makes circles down on you. It’s more sensual than you’ve imagined it to be. And god the man definitely knows what he’s doing. He keeps going on for a while with the same dedication as he started and you feel getting closer and closer to your absolute limits. You look down on him as he now uses his hands on you, and you see him staring back. “You look so good baby” he says and all you can manage to say is his name followed by a moan. “Toto I’m so close. Fuck” you say out of breath and he dives in once again as if he heard the magic phrase. He works his magic and shortly after you probably have the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Then he stands up, his hardness still apparent. You manage to regain your strength and crawl at the end of the bed. “Time to take care of you love.” you tell him and he looks at you with a sparkle in his eye. You reach for his neck and pull him in for a long kiss as you move your hand down his torso and on his crotch. You feel him, how hard he is, and you’re secretly taking pride in your effect on him. You start touching him, trying to make him feel good in your hands. His breathing gets faster as you continue and you can sense him coming closer and closer. You want to give him your best so you slowly lean down but he stops you. “Let me feel you?” he asks, almost sounding tortured. You feel a burning desire in you. You’ve imagined this for some time. You cannot say no, not now. Instead you say “Yes please” and get on his lap. You kiss him, while you’re repeating in your head “i am actually fucking Toto Wolff”. You give him one or two strokes getting ready for him but instead of following he looks around, probably for protection. “I am on birth control” you tell him and he turns his attention back to you. You place yourself in the right position as you feel him pressuring your entrance. Once he’s in you start riding him until you feel yourself getting out of breath. All this time muttering his name like a mantra and he is just repeating something in the lines of “God you feel so good.”, both of you feeling like you’re in another world. As soon as he gets that you are tired he lifts you up and lays you down on the bed. Now he is on top and he’s thrusting in and out in a rhythmic and satisfying way. He looks you in the eye. It’s not awkward. Not even close. You both seem to enjoy it quite a lot. It’s not after a long time that both of you finish at the same time, in an almost poetic way.
Now both of you lay naked on Toto’s queen sized bed. No one is talking. You just lay on his torso while his hand is round your shoulders. At some point you decide to break the silence
“That was a decent start to the day.” you say and Toto looks down on you
“Beats the early gym session to be honest.” he says
“I would be angry if you preferred going to the gym with Lewis and George to having sex with me”
“If it wasn’t for the gym you wouldn’t be here now”
“You think it was the ‘semi naked with a towel’ appearance that made me want to sleep with you?” you laugh “I would give it to you any time of the day, even if you were wearing a garbage bag Wolff.”
“Nice to hear that you are unreasonably horny.”
“It’s not without a reason though. I think you’ve figured out that I do not consider you a bad looking man.”
“I have yes.”
“All I had to do is to just find the courage to just throw myself at you.” you laugh
“And you kind of had to be drunk to do so?” he asks
“Yes”
“Isn’t it ironic though?” he says “That we actually slept together during the moment of our biggest clarity and sobriety?”
“What is it with the philosophical questions Toto? I just wanted to have sex with you for a long time and I did.”
“Long time I hear?”
“Yes, are you surprised?” you ask
“No, just glad that I am not the only one. Was it good at least?”
“God Toto, you’re asking the cringiest questions.” you say “Yes, god, it was perfect.” you answer and you hear Toto laugh.
“Now as much as I want to stay here and repeat this through the day, we have to go to the track” he says
“Ah yes, I am dying to get some breakfast as well.” you say and Toto laughs
“I’ve already had mine” he says with a smirk and as soon as you get what he’s talking about you grab your pillow and start hitting him playfully.
“Come on, let’s get ready.”
A hour or so later, you find yourself parking a shiny black Mercedes at the track's parking area while being already disguised as your alter ego, full on Mercedes’ gear. Today you are wearing Toto’s shirt, which is a little oversized but you manage to style it in a great way. You grab your bag, draw a sharp breath and open the door. You walk to the paddock and scan your pass as you go totally unnoticed by people around you. To them you look like a regular Mercedes employee that they have no reason to care about. Little do they know that this is actually you. To be honest you kind of love the calmness of it, how no one is chasing you for a photo or a statement on a recent drama or event of the F1 world. You just walk unbothered. You get so caught up in that thought that you don’t actually notice how fast you got to the motorhome. You get in and put on your show, greeting the majority of your colleagues that also seem ignorant to your presence there. You go to the buffet area and grab a tray for your breakfast which you eventually bring to the small office that Toto managed to provide you. Once you settle in, you sit down to eat but you take a photo of the breakfast as a part of documenting that crazy weekend. You also decide to send the photo to Toto.
You
[photo]
Grabbed breakfast and brought it to the office. Drop by if you don’t have anything better to do.
Wolff
Just walked in. I’ll grab my coffee and be there in 5.
You
Cool.
Five minutes later you hear a knock on the door followed by “Miss Roosevelt it’s Wolff here.”
“Coming.” you say and unlock the door for him to come in.
“Hey” you say
“Hello” he answers and looks at the full tray “You got quite a lot of food there.”
“Yeah, that start to the day just opened my appetite.”
“That’s good to hear”
“So, what am I supposed to do today?”
“Well, practice starts in 45 minutes and then we have qualifying.”
“I am aware of the program, thank you.”
“You won’t let me finish my thought will you?” he says
“Sorry” you tell him and look at him
“I am thinking, maybe you can join me and Nyck in the garage for practice.” he pauses to think “And then you can take a look at the data before qualifying.”
“No I cannot do that” you say
“Why not? I know you can read data, you have the basic skills and knowledge to judge a performance run.”
“I don’t want to be involved with your data. It’s confidential.” you reply. It is actually crazy that Toto is okay with the idea of you handling the team’s data, as if you are not his number one opponent.
“I know it is. But I trust you, plus there’s an NDA that you’ve already signed. And the fact that you deny reading the data makes me want to give you access to them more than before. Because I know how serious you are about not leaking stuff.”
“Okay I will take a look, but only for a short time.” you tell him
“Oh and then I want you to do a tour to a group of visitors that will be coming to the garage.”
“Aren’t there people responsible for this?” you ask, reminiscing the fact that in Red Bull you have people who are responsible for the hospitality packages.
“There are but they are shitting their pants because Christiano is dropping by later.”
“Who is Christiano?” you ask, slightly confused
“Ronaldo” he replies
“He’s coming to the race?”
“Yes. He’s actually coming both today and tomorrow and the team is invested in doing everything perfect for him.” he says and you are still staring at him with your mouth open “We are a bit short staffed in that team so an extra help would be amazing.”
“Good. I’ll do that too.”
“Great, thanks love” he says and you freeze at the name but before it gets too awkward the door knocks.
“Toto, this is James, do you have some time to review the quali strategy?” you hear through the door
“Yes, I will be there in a sec.” he replies “Gotta go now, i’ll see you in 45 right?”
“Right” you tell him and he is out of the office. I
You spend the next 30 minutes scrolling through twitter and eating the breakfast that you got earlier as well as taking a look at Toto’s schedule for the day. Later on you leave the office, mask on once again, and make your way to the garage and to the top of the fantasy island where Toto and Nyck are waiting for the session to start. Both cars are in the garage waiting for a sign to leave once the lights at the end of the pitlane turn green and at the same time all the mechanics are making the final touches on the set ups. You greet everyone sitting on the fantasy island and put on the spare headphones as you did the day before. The session is done as usual, the drivers going in and out of the garage to change setups on the car to find an optimal one for the qualifying. Performance runs are also on the programme but only during the last fifteen minutes of the session. Everything concerning telemetry is being sent directly into Toto’s computer on top of the fantasy island as soon as each lap ends so that he can see how they are done and areas where they can be corrected. The session ends quicker than it usually does when you are at Red Bull because suddenly all the chit chat becomes interesting and not as boring as it is with Christian.
“P1 and P2 huh?” you ask him. Nyck is already out of the garage, something about having to talk to some foreign media made Toto let him leave before the small pre qualifying debrief.
“It isn’t bad is it?” he asks back.
“It is not for us” you tell him “ It is for the rest of the grid though. I bet Christian is fuming right now.”
“It is not bad for them. If we are in front they will have to innovate more to reach us. It motivates them.”
“I bet they are not seeing it this way though.”
“Is Christian really fuming if we finish in front in practice?”
“Yeah, he’s not a fan of coming second in any session of this sport.”
“Too bad for him.” he says and you laugh. At this moment your phone rings with a notification from the calendar app reminding you of an interview Toto has to attend.
“Oh, I am seeing now that you should be outside the media pen for an interview.” you tell him
“I am very much aware, thank you.”
“Well, why are you not there now?”
“I prefer to hang out with my beautiful assistant instead.” he compliments you
“Oh my god, shut up” you laugh and he does the same “Come on, interview, now!” you say as you tug him and try to push him to the corridor that leads to the paddock playfully.
“That’s unfair. I am the boss. You are not in the position to prohibit me from doing anything.” he laughs as he walks reluctantly to the paddock.
“Well, it seems like I am in charge of what you are doing so technically I am allowed to tell you what to do.” you tell him “I will be enjoying a cold cup of coffee in the meantime.”
“Once again, that’s unfair Horner.” he says the second part whispering so that people are not able to hear. “Also, you have work to do. The telemetry data is already in your email inbox waiting to be read and commented on, so if I were you I would actually save the coffee for later.” he says and you look at him flabbergasted. “Oh and as soon as you are done with that you have the little tour to do in an hour and a half. Take care Ms. Roosevelt.”
Before you are able to form a sentence he is already gone, more like running to the media pen. You on the other side, walk back to your office, open your new iPad and take a look at the data. The lap times look good, still slower than the lap time that you calculated the pole position would be on, but they look good. In the data you can see clearly that the engine mode is in a much less aggressive setup that you are sure will change during qualifying. You add some comments using your iPencil concerning parts of where you think the drivers can gain time, as well as some questions for the strategists and the mechanics. When you are done, you forward your notes to Toto’s email and check the clock to see that it has actually been 1:30 hours and that it is actually the time to go meet the people you will be giving your tour to.
You find them all standing on a circle by the garage entrance at the paddock, discussing, taking pictures and being excited. There are 5 of them, 3 guys and 2 girls, all of them close to your age. You approach them and greet them. One of the girls looks gorgeous. The boys aren’t bad either.
“Hello everyone.” you say “You must be waiting for a paddock tour right?”
“Yeah” one of the boys says and the rest of them nod.
“Okay!” you say in an excited tone, trying to engage with them. “I am Mindy. I will learn your names during the tour I suppose.”
“Nice to meet you” says one of the girls
“Likewise” you answer “So, should we start? Are you all excited?”
“Very.” one of the boys says.
The tour starts and you take all of them for a walk in the paddock to see all the motorhomes and where you actually work and you are actually describing all the details about what you are showing to them. You take them by the media pen, where you spot Toto giving another interview for pre qualifying. All of the guys and the girls get very excited and try to snap a picture even from far away. Then you take them by the garage but just before you manage to get in, you receive a new notification on your watch
Wolff
Just finished the interviews at the media pen and managed to see your notes and questions on the telemetry data. I forwarded them to James and he immediately got back to me asking who made all those brilliant notes and questions. I guess you are wasting yourself with management, you should become a mechanic instead.
Oh I also caught a glance of you and the guys during the tour. I hope that you are doing alright. We don’t want to make Ritz’s employees sad, we still have a few days left before we check out.
You read the message and realize that the people that you’ve been interacting with are people working at your hotel. So you decide to stop the tour and actually get to know them.
“You know what? Let’s introduce ourselves before going into the garage.” you tell them and walk back to a bench located at the paddock.
“So as I told you before I am Mindy Roosevelt, I am currently working at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 but my position is totally different to what I am doing right now. I am actually working as an assistant to upper management, but the hospitality team has a very special guest for this weekend and they were busy enough so you are left with me.” you say “Go ahead, introduce yourselves.”
One of the guys starts talking “I am Ahmad Hussain and like everyone here, I am working at the Ritz-Carlton in Jeddah. I am working as a cook in the hotel kitchen so everything that you’ve tasted in the past few days might have had to do something with me.”
“I loved everything that I’ve tried, thank you Ahmad.” you tell him
“I am Benjy Ayad, I am half american half saudi arabian and I am currently working at the Ritz-Carlton as an economics advisor.” he says
“Mohammad Dawoud, and I am working at the Ritz-Carlton in room service.”
“Oh, I will be requesting for you Mohammad.” you laugh and he takes a bow showing his honor.
“I am also working as room service at the Ritz.” you hear one of the girls saying. This time it’s the pretty one
“That’s nice. What is your name?”
“I am Cynthia Jones.” she says and you freeze as you realize that the girl standing in front of you has slept with the man you slept with this morning. Jealousy as well as curiosity are your main feelings so you ask for more information.
“Sounds very non-Saudi Arabian. Where are you from Cynthia?” you ask
“I am from the UK actually. I was born and raised there, my parents are British but all of a sudden I ended up here. I was looking for a position in management in some big companies here in Saudi Arabia and I got this job as a part time until I figured things out but I ended up staying for two years.”
“That’s crazy. And why management? Do you have a degree?”
“Yes, I actually do. I got my degree in Switzerland and I tried pursuing it but right now I haven’t found anything that I like.”
You nod in agreement, trying to register all the information that you’ve learned from her directly. Toto was secretive about their relationship so learning even the slightest about her is important. Finally you turn to the last girl left
“Alina Mohammad, I work as a receptionist at the Ritz. Nothing to know exactly. I was born and raised here and I got a degree in touristics so I got the job of my dreams.”
“You guys seem really happy with what you are all doing. I hope you keep doing what you love.” you say “I mean you all managed to buy a paddock pass that most people wouldn’t dream buying at what? 24?”
“No actually we didn’t buy a pass, the team invited us to join today’s action.” says Benjy
“Oh shit, I didn’t know that.” you say
“Yeah they came in last night and handed us the passes just before our shift ended. We went crazy.” says Cynthia and you look at her.
“Sorry Cynthia, if I may ask, what time do you finish your shift on average?”
“I don’t know, maybe like 11pm or something? Yesterday I finished at that time.” she replies. At this point you are now sure, Toto asked her to come there today. There’s no other explanation. As soon as he saw her he wanted her to come back. That’s why he invited her. It wasn’t planned for you to do the interview, but he changed it to make you interact with Cynthia, to actually hurt your feelings.
“Mindy, is everything okay?” Mohammad asks as you have totally zoned out
“Sorry, I spaced out for a bit. Yes, everything is good. Shall we continue with our garage tour?” you ask and they nod. You go back to the garage trying to explain as many things as you know about the things there. To be honest, your mood isn’t quite the same as it was before you knew who the beautiful blonde by your side was. Luckily, the tour comes to an end 30 minutes later but sadly it is qualifying time so you have to be by Toto’s side by the time the session starts. Cristiano Ronaldo is also there by Toto’s side. You nod and greet him as Toto introduces you and you just get back to work.
During qualifying you sit there, not talking, just looking at the screen and the timings and occasionally checking your burner twitter account for any comments. Although you are pissed at the man next to you you definitely don’t want Mercedes to qualify in bad positions so through Q1 and Q2 you are relaxed since it is obvious that both cars will be through to Q3. During Q3 you keep your fingers crossed and mostly during the last runs for pole position you keep praying as you usually do in Red Bull. When the timer runs out Lewis and George are sitting P1 and P2 respectively, locking the front row for tomorrow’s start and as soon as the team figures it out, the whole garage erupts in cheers. Toto reaches Ronaldo for a handshake, celebrating the results. Your eye catches the guys from earlier cheering and hugging each other, taping with their phones. Toto turns to you and you do a high five with him as he smiles at you. You remain indifferent in his reaction, keeping yourself busy until George and Lewis are back to the parc ferme to congratulate them. Once you are done with that you simply say goodbye to everyone there and leave.
You go back and grab all your things and without saying a word to anyone you drive back to the hotel. When you are ready to go back to bed, you see a new message
Max Emilian Verstappen
Where are you? I missed you on track these days.
You
Sadly Christian thought it was a fair deal to throw me out of the team for god knows how long.
Happily for you I will be out of your way for that time so you will relax.
Also congrats for the P3 today, it was a decent run but the mercs had the pace.
Max Emilian Verstappen
Oh Christian…
Shut up, I already miss you. Are you in England?
Thank you H.
You
I am in Monaco, at a friend's house.
You feel kinda terrible for lying to him but there’s not much you can do.
After you chat with Max for a while, you order some food to eat but then get another message.
Wolff
Lost you after qualifying and when I asked they told me you had left. That wasn’t a bad result.
Anyways I am going back to the hotel and I am planning to order something to eat, you can hang around my suite if you want and we can discuss strategies for the race.
Let me know what you are about to do
You
I’m not feeling very good, sorry.
And tomorrow I will be coming in late, probably an hour or so before the start
Wolff
Okay. Do you need any help? Should I drop by your suite?
How am I supposed to work without my assistant?
You
I am not your main assistant Woff, you have a hundred people helping you, me not being there won’t be a huge issue
No, don’t come.
Just let me fucking be for once okay?
Later on you see that he read the message and didn’t reply. You take a hot bath and go to sleep for tomorrow.
You wake up the next day pretty late but just in time considering the fact that you are planning to leave in 2 hours. You order breakfast to avoid having something at the track and start getting ready as you are waiting for room service to arrive. You eat and then leave.
Since you left the hotel earlier your time of arrival is estimated earlier than you actually planned so you decide to take a drive in Jeddah’s streets to soak in the country. An hour or so before the start you actually arrive at the track. You park your car and walk to the hospitality. Then you lock yourself in your office and just read notes for the race. Later on you hear a knock on the door.
“It’s Wolff” you hear him say and you open the door even if you don’t want to. You don’t speak. You stay there and look at him. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks
“I am okay, yes.” you reply “Do you want anything else?” you ask him since he’s standing there just watching,
“Why are you acting like this?” he asks
“Like what?”
“Like Christian Horner’s daughter?”
“Yeah, you should be expecting that since that’s exactly who I am”
“You haven’t been like this since Bahrain.” he says
“Well if you don’t like it then you should call Cynthia.” you tell him
“Is this what this is all about? Are you jealous?” he asks
“Listen Toto, if you want to discuss this I will discuss it outside this office please.” you tell him
“Okay then, follow me.” he says
“What? Now?”
“I want to solve this right now if it’s okay.”
“The race starts in 30 minutes.” you say
“It will take less than 30 minutes, follow me” he says
Both you and Toto walk in the motorhome before he manages to open a door at the end of the hallway. You climb off the stairs and you reach a place somewhere in between a wall and a closed section of the motorhome.
“Speak” he says
“Bossy much ?” you ask
“Yes, now please tell me how did the whole Cynthia thing reoccur after yesterday morning?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” you tell him
“I do not have a clue.” he says
“You don’t have a clue about inviting her here?”
“Who?”
“Yesterday you made me do a paddock tour to a group of people.”
“Yes, they were the Ritz employees, I am aware of that”
“So you are aware that Cynthia Jones was proudly here watching F1 and enjoying qualifying with a VIP pass right?”
“I was not.” he says and honestly he seems like he’s telling the truth.
“You didn’t see her in the garage?” you ask
“Well, believe it or not I do not see everyone who is in the garage.”
“You didn’t invite her ?”
“Nope.”
“She said that she got her invitation right after her shift ended. And her shift ended after you saw her.”
“I was aware that they were going to be here. Just not the names of who was coming. The hotel management was supposed to do a draw and pick 5 people to join us as a gift. It’s part of our contract.” he replies
“So you didn’t know she was coming?”
“I am going to say no once again.” he says “You can search my messages if you want to.” he says as he hands you his phone.
“I trust you.” you tell him and you hand him his phone back
“After all I am not that big of an asshole to invite an ex fling and then sleep with you the next morning.”
“Don’t you dare do this again.”
“Invite people or sleep with you?”
“Oh Wolff fuck off.” you joke
“With you, gladly.” he replies
“Shhh” you tell him
“You are not going to shut me up this way.” he says and then looks at you “Also take off this goddamn mask now that no one can see us, I am tired of seeing you with it.”
You take of your mask and smile at him
“You’re sure that no one can see us here right?” you ask and he nods.
You lean on him and kiss him, catching him off guard. He returns the kiss as he smiles in it .
“I am sorry, Wolff. I won’t overreact about Cynthia again.”
“It’s alright Horner.” he tells you.
“The race starts in 15, should we go?”
“Let’s go.” he says and both of you walk back to the garage and your usual places.
At the start of the race both Lewis and George start off well, keeping their initial positions with Max lurking just behind George. Standing next to Toto, you have access to everything on his computer so you see lap by lap each and every thing you’ve learned to look for in order to plan a strategy in your head. When things get tough and Max gets behind Lewis in P2 your brain is running as fast as it can. The Mercedes strategists are proposing possible pit stop strategies based on the data that they have. However they don’t know one thing that you do. As an executive at Red Bull you have to be aware of code phrases over the team radio, which to be honest can’t be forgotten in a day. So as you’re seeing in the data Lewis is trying to manage his tires and you hear the message “Okay Max, it seems like we are going for a one stopper here.” , you feel the bells ringing in your head.
The “It seems like” phrase is a code name for doing exactly the opposite that the phrase says so you are 100% sure that they are going for a two stopper in order to win. Something that Mercedes has done countless times.
Toto had told you earlier that if you want to intervene you can press the button and speak but he thought that you wouldn’t be crazy enough to actually do it. When you crack the code of the Red Bull strategy you immediately press the button saying strategy and speak.
“Red Bull is going for a two stopper.” you say and Toto looks at you with his eyes wide open. “In about 5 to 10 laps they are going to be back on the softs to chase us. I would suggest pitting Lewis for a second time, turning the engine up and trying to chase him.”
“Are you sure?” he asks
“The “It seems like” is the key phrase Toto. Please let Lewis know. ” you tell him
“Okay. Do what she said. I am waiting for your calculations. Get back at me in two minutes.” he says while pressing the strategy button
“Thank you.” he says.
Later on it seems like Red Bull is caught off guard by Mercedes’ move and they try saving it as well as they can but they fail. At the end of the race the checkered flag is out and Lewis wins the grand prix in Jeddah.
“Yes boys, come on. Amazing strategy” says Lewis through the radio as everyone in the garage is celebrating. George finishes P2.
“Thank you for the amazing drive Lewis.” says Toto
“Get in there Lewis!” says Bono through the radio.
Toto turns to you and says thank you while he’s off to congratulate the other team members. After Lewis gives his post race interview to Naomi Schiff, you storm off to the pitlane to watch the podium ceremony. Max is also there and he seems a bit disappointed by his streak of P3’s during the season, but you’re barely worried. Right now you are celebrating about Lewis and George. You take your phone out and snap a picture or two. After the champagne opens and the trophies are given you go back to your office and lock yourself there once again. You’re hearing all the congratulations from people in the hospitality center and you sit on the office couch feeling that happiness and euphoria of winning. You haven’t spoken to anyone since the race ended but you are now just laying there happy. A long time after, you hear a knock on the door. You’re sure it’s Toto since the race debrief and the interviews must have ended by now. You ask who it is though.
“It’s Lewis. Can you please open up?” he says and you freeze, stopping dead in your tracks. You put on your mask and you open the door.
“Oh my god Lewis hi. Congratulations on your win.” you tell him
“Thank you Mindy. It’s Mindy right?” he asks
“Yes it is.” you tell him
“And you’re a Daimler intern?”
“I am yes.”
“Can you please take off your mask so that I can remember your face?” he asks and at this point you are pretty sure he knows that you’re not who you say you are.
“I am sorry but I am at great risk, I don’t want to get COVID or anything.” you tell him trying to avoid the situation.
“Don’t worry, I am wearing masks and I also tested negative this morning, so you can take it off.”
“Is it okay if I don’t want to?” you tell him
“Yes it is.” he says and he turns to face the door, finally going to leave. “We will be outside celebrating the 1-2 with the team, it will be amazing if you come, even for the picture.”
“I am not sure I have to be there.”
“I know you had something to do with that win, this strategy didn’t make itself Horner.” he says and you freeze as you register how he called you.
“Excuse me?” you tell him
“Next time that you fight with Toto, don’t do it outside my driver’s room Horner.” he says. “I know what happened between you two, I saw you without your mask and I saw you kissing my Team principal, there’s no denying.”
“Shit. Toto said no one could see us.”
“I could see you but Toto thought I would be at the grid by then when I clearly wasn’t.”
“I am sorry. You can’t say this to anyone.” you tell him
“I don’t plan to, I just find it funny that you switched teams.” he says
“Yeah, I had to because my dad’s an asshole.”
“Okay, now you get what everyone’s saying right?” he laughs
“Yeap.”
“You should come outside, let’s celebrate. You earned this victory as much as I did. Plus I want to have you in the picture. You can wear your mask.” he says and he extends his hand to make you stand up from the couch.
“Okay” you say and you walk with him
“Oh and by the way, Wolff is heads over heels for you, I am pretty sure he’s liked you for a long time and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. That Cynthia thing is completely bullshit.”
“Really?” you ask him and he nods smiling.
Both of you walk outside to celebrate that amazing day with your amazing achievements. Mercedes really feels like home for you. Toto’s eyes light up when he sees you outside, in between the mix of employees. He stands by your side for the photos and then all of the team starts playing with champagne. It’s a really great night in the desert that makes up for the craziness of the weekend which makes you relax ahead of the new week coming up.
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Sequel to we almost kissed.
Read the first part here.
"Welcome back, mate," Max called across the garage.
Someone had thrust a bottle of beer into Daniel's hand and patted him on the back. Clearly Christian had unofficially announced that he would be re-joining the team, because the mechanics looked excited, rather than confused, that he had gatecrashed the party.
Daniel wanded over to Max. He needed to talk to him alone.
"Hey, mate, could we talk?" Daniel asked.
Max frowned but nodded towards the back of the garage that led to his driver's room. They wandered down the corridor and Max leaned on the wall. Apparently they would not be going to the room and Max didn't feel this should be a private conversation.
"So," Daniel cleared his throat. "Kissing in the TV pen was probably a bad idea."
"You didn't like it?" Max asked, teasing.
Daniel rolled his eyes.
"So you did like it."
"You're the one with the exclusive girlfriend," Daniel pointed out.
"You and Heidi are not exclusive?" Max questioned.
Daniel tutted.
"What? I've never seen the two of you interact, maybe she's the love of your life."
"I mean I do really like her but we spend like a cumulative 2 months together a year and we're both content with that. She does what she wants and so do I," Daniel explained.
"Good to know," Max responded quietly.
"Is it?"
Max hummed. "Glad this wouldn't have hurt her feelings or something."
"Nah, she's texted me about a thousand laughing emojis because of the chaos it's caused on the internet."
"That's good," Max replied.
"Anyway is there a way I could apologise to Kelly or something? I feel awful. I just slipped back to 2018 in my head for a second back there and forgot that we can't do that," Daniel asked.
"Why?"
"Because I kissed the man she's probably going to marry," Daniel responded, tone deadpan.
"I don't think so. I don't think I want to get married."
"Ok, well, the woman you're in a serious relationship with," Daniel continued. "It just looks fucking bad."
"Kelly doesn't mind."
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously," Max insisted, lowering his voice. "She has many people that she sleeps with. We are a family but, like," He paused. "Not romantically."
"What?"
"So I have known Kelly for many years," Max started. "And. Fuck you can't tell anyone this, Daniel."
"Ok, I won't," Daniel replied. He couldn't wait to hear this.
"Kelly is the first person I told I might be gay," Max said very quickly, stumbling slightly over the words. He was searching Daniel's face for signs of surprise.
It took Daniel a few seconds to react. "Are you?"
"Gay?"
Daniel tutted, smiling fondly.
"Of course I am, why else would I tell you this?" Max replied.
"Ok."
"Ok?" Max pushed.
"Yeah, ok, fine, it's fine, why would that not be fine?" Daniel asked, pitch a little high.
"Why do you sound weird then?" Max asked, eyes narrowed. He wasn't apologetic, but he needed to know how safe he was around Daniel.
"Because you're gay and we kissed and I liked it," Daniel said, almost a sigh.
"I liked it too," Max stated.
"Are you happy? With Kelly? Like faking it?" Daniel asked, concerned.
Max shrugged. "We're both happy for now. I of course love her and Penelope and she gets the exposure and to travel and I get to appear straight even if I kiss the odd guy in public or a grindr hookup recognises me."
"But you guys kiss all the time."
"I am not repulsed by kissing her," Max replied. "It's just fine."
Daniel leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Max joined him a few seconds later.
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't think it was a big deal," Max said.
"Don't apologise. I wanted to."
"Wanted to what?" Max asked. He knew he was pushing. He wished he had had someone to push when he was figuring all this out.
"But like, everyone does that sometimes, right? Everyone wants that a bit?" Daniel mumbled.
"Wants to what?" Max repeated.
"Kiss their friends."
Max shrugged. "I don't think so mate."
"Really?"
"I do. But. I don't know. Maybe ask your other friends," Max suggested.
"I've never done that with my other friends. I've wanted to but. Actually I've kissed Scotty once but we were wasted and he said it was gross," Daniel mused.
"Yeah it's not very straight to kiss guys," Max pointed out.
Daniel chocked out a laugh. "Yeah but I like girls."
"Yeah, you definitely do."
"So it's all good," Daniel suggested.
"Bisexuality exists."
"True, that would be like painfully, accurately me," Daniel said. He didn't sound upset about it.
"Only you know your own brain, so whatever feels right for you, you don't have to label it," Max reassured him. "I'm trying to label it though. I think I'm gonna tell Christian. Just as a head up if something gets out."
"You think it would be ok?"
"Christian loves me," Max replied.
"Well yeah, you've won him two championships," Daniel said.
"No, he loves me like I'm his kid. Like he loves you like you're his kid. He's not going to make me feel like shit for this," Max said, self assured.
"That's a nice way to feel," Daniel whispered.
"We all love you here," Max whispered back.
"I love you too," Daniel admitted easily.
"I'm so glad you're here," Max continued.
"How much have you had to drink?" Daniel teased.
"A little. I am not drunk," Max snapped. "Not sober either."
"Nah, you're definitely not," Daniel agreed.
"Definitely not straight either," Max added.
Daniel looked at Max and laughed.
"I know it especially when I'm with you," Max breathed out.
"Fuck, what Maxy?"
Max let out a shaky breath. "I said that I know for sure that I am not straight when I'm with you." Max waited for Daniel's reply that never came. "This should not be a surprise to you?"
"It is," Daniel whispered.
"It does not have to mean anything. I thought it was obvious, Kelly always says that I need to stop looking at you like that in public because it is so obvious that I fancy you," Max rambled.
"I guess I'll notice it a lot more now that I know," Daniel suggested.
"I guess."
"I guess I'm not straight either, huh," Daniel suggested.
"No, we have kissed a few times and you have always seemed into it."
"Can we do it again?" Daniel asked.
"Kiss?" Max clarified. "Yes."
Daniel nodded and leaned in, capturing Max's lips and cupping his jaw, mindless to the fact that they were in public. They both knew that nobody in that building was there to hurt them. Max felt Daniel relax into it, and every time he pushed a little more, until they were both breathless and smiling against each other.
"Well fuck this is fun," Daniel pointed out.
"Yeah, you're really hot," Max said boldly, enjoying the blush on Daniel's cheeks.
"Fuck, yeah, I can definitely be into this," Daniel admitted.
"Can't believe this is news to you," Max responded.
"It certainly news to the world that's seen us kiss," Daniel shot back.
Max shrugged. "We will say it's not a big deal. Which it isn't. And we will make some fans happy and anger others."
"We need to talk about this in the morning," Daniel suggested.
"Yeah, let's have breakfast," Max replied nodding.
"How about a midnight snack too?" Daniel asked, a little tentative. It was so out of character that Max melted a bit.
"I said I would go out, but I now of course feel very sleepy and will text the group chat," Max said, grinning.
"No, don't miss out. We can do room service for breakfast instead?" Daniel suggested. "I'm not coming out with you though, I'm too old for that shit."
Max tutted. "I will ask you the same question once you have been back with us for a few months. You are tired now. This is fine. But you won't be all year," Max suggested.
"Back to the party?"
"Hold on," Max whispered, pulling Daniel in for another kiss.
"This is fucking fun," Daniel said as they pulled back.
"Wait till I get you in bed," Max whispered.
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do you think it’s silly that as someone who isn’t really religious (more in a chill way than in a completely convinced way like i mostly just don’t think about it too much) but who was raised somewhat catholic (never really believed as a child either but some practices were fun/ parents alternated between saying they believed and saying they didn’t and didn’t do religious practices that often or assiduously) to want to reconnect with my great grandmother’s religion and culture (on my mother’s side; she was jewish). like sometimes i feel it’s pointless or that since i’m not religious that i’m just going to do it to feel interesting but that i’m not really sincere. i’m not really looking to convert but more like picking up and observing some common practices that are somewhat commonly observed as cultural rather than only religious? my family history is nebulous and complicated but. i think maybe my great grandmother would’ve liked her things to be passed on and that’s what keeps nagging me about it.
sorry about a long personal anon especially if it’s inappropriate or if you don’t feel like replying feel free to delete it, i am asking because it’s hard to get an answer myself and it’d be nice to have an opinion from someone who /is/ jewish. like i’d post on a thing like quora or reddit or whatever but i don’t really use that so i figured i’d try here. also obviously i know you’re just one person and not representative of all jewish people and all varieties of jewish faith and groups etc etc i’m taking all this with a grain of salt etc etc. thank you i hope you’re doing well and have a good day!
Hi anon, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me.
The first thing I want to ask you to think about is... your maternal great-grandmother: was this your mother's mother's mother? Because if so, I have bad news, and that bad news is that you're actually Jewish already. Oops. Jewish law about "who is a Jew" is traced down the maternal line. Do contact me again if you want to talk through what that might mean (or not mean) for you.
Secondly, I think it's worth pondering the relationship between religious feeling and religion. Christians do like to frame religion in terms of faith, sometimes to the point that we call them "faiths" in English, but most religious groups in the world don't self-define that way. Religion is ill-defined because it's actually a lot of things. It's ethnicity and culture, it's shared language and concepts, it's mythology and worldbuilding and metaphors, it's relationship with the soil of a homeland, it's the physical rituals we use to hold important moments of life and development, it's law and ethics, it's connection with ancestors and the ways in which they shaped us and changed the world. And yes, it's also how we feel about the Divine, how we connect with the Great Other, how we give prayers and offerings, but that's only one part of what religion is.
If I assume that you're not actually Jewish (which is not a given), then you are what we might call zera Yisra'el, or "seed of Israel". This means that your ancestors, fanning out through many generations, were Jews. Their food and culture and language and mythology and texts and prayers were Jewish. Feeling a draw to connection with that is not at all strange to me. It's part of the constellation of your history, and I think it's beautiful that you'd like to carry some part of that forward.
Jews are a people primarily of text and physical ritual. I have no advice on where to start aside from reading and acting. But I hope this was helpful, and please feel very free to de-anon and message me if you want to talk about it any further.
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Sleepless in New York: Chapter 7 - Take My Breath
Series: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.
Masterlist: Sleepless in New York
Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake arrive back at Harper's apartment... where more than one surprise awaits Drake.
Word Count: 5,800
Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, Drake massively overthinking, lemons(?))
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: Sorry this took so long to get out! Real life has been unexpected busy (even though I'd been hoping it would calm down lol) and this chapter ended up being quite a beast to wrangle into shape (I think I rewrote most parts of it like 6 times... 😅). But hopefully the contents will make up for the wait!
A/N2: I am participating in @fictober-event's Fictober 2022 event, and I (belatedly) used the Day 21 prompt: "I never said that" (which appears in bold within the text).
A/N3: I tagged this installment on the basis of my updated Tag List (which I will be posting tomorrow). If you were not tagged, and would like to be, let me know!
Chapter 7 - Take My Breath
"My... my jacket?" I blabber stupidly, hand frozen half-way to my ear like a moron... which, at this moment, I completely am.
Because my mind’s spinning from the bombshell invitation that she just dropped on me...
...and the potential implications.
"Yeah," she confirms with infinite patience. "The one you lent me last night."
"I wasn't expecting it back," I mutter while desperately searching her face, her eyes, her body language for any kind of clue as to what her true motivations actually are.
Because if she means what I think she means then—
"I know," she shrugs. "But it's yours. So, it's not right for me to keep it. Especially since you're leaving tomorrow."
I kick myself as she turns away to pad back towards the main road.
I'm such an idiot...
Her words confirm that which I should've known all along — that the invitation is completely platonic. And that it’s my own dumbass fault for trying to read something into the situation that isn’t even on the table.
At least not anymore.
Because whatever mood we managed to spark tonight got left in that damn elevator when I high-tailed us outta there.
And now it’s too late to get it back.
Because I ended up hurting her.
And despite the fact that she forgave me for the incident, there’s no way she'll want to take things further.
Not tonight, anyway...
...even though tonight’s all we have left.
I raise my gaze beseechingly to the heavens.
Why didn't I just go for Korean BBQ last night...? Then I never would've met her, she never would've gotten fired, and I wouldn't be feeling like—
"NYC Yellow Cab Company. Where are you going this evening?"
The sound of the operator's voice jars me from my thoughts. "Yeah. Um... I'd like to order a cab to..."
I trail off, realising that I actually have no idea where we are.
I cast my eyes around, trying to find a street sign, or an obvious landmark. But apart from the inky waters of the Hudson behind me and the yellow glow of the streetlamps along the sidewalk, I see nothing.
"Err... hold on a sec, will—"
The sharp sound of a whistle rends the air.
Throwing my head around, I spot Gale leaning out into the road with her arm in the air.
"...actually, never mind," I say, hanging up as a cab pulls up obediently next to us.
"One New York taxi," declares Gale triumphantly as she steps in front of me to yank the passenger door open.
Dropping my phone back in my pocket, I throw her a sidelong glance. "Thought you said cabs are a waste of time and money."
She shrugs back at me. "They are. But you were going to call one anyway, so I thought I'd save you the trouble... and the overpriced roaming bill."
I shake my head wryly. "And here I thought I was doin' you a favour."
"Who says the favour can't go both ways, cowboy?" she counters with a wink before climbing into the cab.
I stare at her ass painedly.
Now, why did she have to go and say something like that...?
Because despite the fact that she made it clear literally a minute ago that I shouldn't expect anything when we get back to hers, that one comment has kicked my dirty, sex-deprived imagination into overdrive again...
...and now all I can think about is eating her out while she goes down on me, 69-style.
"You coming, or what, pal?"
The driver's voice snaps me from my thoughts.
Swallowing a groan, I slide into the backseat — careful not to touch her, even accidentally, because then all bets are gonna get blown off — and pull the cab door closed with an agitated bang.
Sweet Jesus, I’m a horny mess...
I can’t seem to get through one conversation with this girl without my mind — and my dick — going wild with everything I want to do to her.
And that isn’t like me.
Sure. I've been turned on by girls before. Even been handcuffed, made to wait for gratification until I was literally sweating with need.
But never like this — outside of the bedroom, where the proverbial screw just kept getting pulled tighter and tighter without any assurance of release.
No. This is completely uncharted territory for me.
Because any other girl, any other situation, I'd've closed the deal by now. And moved on.
So, maybe that’s the problem — the fact that every time I seem to be getting somewhere, I end up getting cock-blocked with a meticulous precision that seems nothing short of premeditated.
By her asshole boss. By her infatuated coworker. By the cabbie. By Leo. By the pricks at the club.
Not to mention by myself. Because I keep saying and doing the wrong things. So, that fact that she’s still talking to me is basically a miracle.
And even though I somehow managed to salvage each and every fuck up — just — it hasn’t been enough.
Because I’m still sitting on square one.
But I've run outta time.
And that grates me no end.
Especially considering how narrowly I missed the end zone.
My head drops back against the head rest.
Christ, I need to fuck...
The adrenaline, the cortisol — not to mention the testosterone spliced with all the pent-up thirst — is still roiling through my veins, setting my teeth on edge, begging for release.
And while I completely respect Gale's decision to not want to take things further after everything she's been through tonight, I know I'll never be able to catch anything even remotely resembling sleep until I've blown off some steam.
And if it isn’t gonna happen with Gale — even though I want it to, desperately — I need to cut my losses and come up with a Plan B...
...though the idea of going back out again, to a noisy bar or club to scour the crowd for a potential hook-up is not appetising in the slightest. Especially since there’s no guarantee of a decent score.
Might just need to bite the bullet and steal a page out of Tariq's pathetic playbook by calling up a damned hooker.
I clench my eyes shut.
Sweet Jesus, I really must be desperate.
But as tantalising as the idea may seem at first blush, the thought of actually having sex with someone who is only in it for the money turns me off faster than flipping a kill switch.
I heave a resigned sigh.
Jacking off under a cold shower it is... Christ, this night can’t get any worse...
I feel the taxi slow.
Glancing out the window, I see that we've arrived on a residential street comprised of tightly packed multistorey brownstones.
"That'll be $24.56," declares the driver, putting the car into park.
"Thanks," acknowledges Gale, reaching for her clutch.
But I've already pulled my wallet out. "Keep the change," I tell him, handing over a ten and a twenty.
Gale's head snaps up. "Hey!"
"You want a receipt?" asks the cabbie, palming the money.
"Nope," I tell him, already halfway out the car.
The sooner we get this done, and the sooner I get gone, the better.
Flicking the door closed behind me, I walk quickly 'round to the other side of the cab to help Gale out.
Because even though I may not be getting laid tonight, I’m not gonna be an asshole about it. My parents had raised me better than that.
Gale greets me with a terse glare from the backseat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I raise a brow. "Opening the door for you?"
"We agreed to share the fare!"
I heave a breath. Christ, not again... "No. We didn't."
"Yes. We did," she insists sternly, gathering her things. "Because I said—"
"I know what you said," I reply calmly, pulling the door wider. "But we never agreed."
Her mouth drops open in surprise. "But—"
"In fact," I continue, holding out a hand to help her out of the cab, "I specifically disagreed with your proposition. Because it's not right for you to fork out cash you don't have on a cab that you only need because of me."
"I have $12!" she hits back, ignoring my offer of assistance even as she struggles to climb out of the backseat with shoes, bag, and jacket in hand.
"No. You don't."
She freezes, half-in, half-out of the cab, staring at me in disbelief.
I meet her eye pointedly. "You lost your job, remember?"
"Yeah, but—"
"So, my point stands," I conclude, reaching out to steady her as she pushes herself up to stand. "You don't have $12 to spend on a cab. And since that's my fault, it's only right that I foot the fare."
She lets out a low breath. "Drake, you don't need t—"
"I do," I insist, shutting the cab door behind her. "Especially since I never finished apologising back at the club."
She flicks her gaze up with a coy smile. "We did get very rudely interrupted, didn't we?"
"Very," I agree, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face as the car pulls away. "So, it's only right that I make it up to you some other way."
Dammit, why can’t I keep my hands off her...?
Something flutters in her expression. "And that's very sweet of you. But I can't keep taking your money."
"Pretty sure it’s the cabbie who took my money..." I murmur softly.
She swings her Jimmy Choos at me. "You know what I mean!"
"Harper," I say firmly, letting the shoes ping harmlessly off my arm. "It's fine. Honestly. I'm not gonna begrudge twenty bucks — or even ten times that — if it helps you get home safe. After the way I gatecrashed your life, it's the least I can do."
She opens her mouth to protest.
I meet her gaze calmly, but steadfastly.
Her shoulders drop. "Okay, fine. But just so we're clear, this is the last time I'm letting you do this."
"Spend my own money?" I ask, quirking a brow.
"Blame yourself for what happened."
Her words pull me up short. "But—"
"You didn't gatecrash my life. If anything, you kinda did me a favour because I actually hated working at that bar," she admits. "The place was a dive, the hours were erratic, and Jovan was—"
"—a right piece of shit," I offer.
"I was going to say 'moody bastard', but sure," she grins. "The only reason I stuck it out for as long as I did was because the tips were relatively good and I was able to hit my monthly savings goal after I'd paid—"
"Savings goal?" I cut in. "What were you—?"
A blush colours her face. "It... It doesn't matter. Point is, I can get another job. And until I do, I have enough to cover the rent. So, it's not like you've ruined my life, or plunged me into debt, or homelessness..."
"Yeah, but—"
She lays a finger against my lips, silencing me. "I said it's fine... Really. You don't owe me anything, Drake. You never did."
I struggle for breath. "Har—"
"But I do owe you your jacket back," she reminds me, giving my nose a tap with her finger. "And you probably want to get back to your bachelor party. So, up and at 'em, cowboy."
The breath I didn't realise I’m holding explodes out of me as she turns away.
Fuck.
This girl really is try'na kill me.
Every time she gets up in my space like that, touches me like that, calls me cowboy like that, she pushes my self-control — and my sanity — right to the limit.
And at this rate, what little rein I have left on my composure is going to snap, and she’s gonna find herself on the receiving end of a very different kind of 'up and at 'em'... the kind where she’s up against the wall and I’m up and inside her.
I force myself to take a steadying breath as I follow after her.
Keep it together, Walker. As she made it clear — again — that's not the reason you're here. And unless she changes her mind, you can't overstep the mark.
She leads me to the squatter of two buildings on the block. Stopping in front of a narrow door that’s tucked next to the shuttered store front of a second-hand bookshop that occupies the ground floor, she reaches for the numerical access panel and taps the six digit code in.
The lock clicks back and I reach forward to push the door open.
"Thanks," she says with a smile, stepping through the opening.
"Anytime," I murmur, trying — and failing — to not breathe in her honey-camomile scent as she slides past me.
Dammit, why does she have to smell so good...?
"Hope you like cardio..."
I snap my head up just in time to catch the wry glance she throws me over her shoulder.
"...'cause it's a bit of a trek up to the fifth floor."
I let the door bang shut behind me with a sigh.
Yup. She’s definitely try'na kill me.
Because apparently it isn’t enough that I've already had to suffer through a burlesque routine and a sexually charged turn on the dancefloor that had basically been foreplay.
She’s now going to make me stare at her ass while we climb five flights for stairs.
Fuck my fuckin' life...
But, short of walking out on her like a high-strung douchebag, I don’t really have a choice.
Unless...
"Up and at 'em, Gale!" I prompt as I dart past her.
Her mouth drops. "Wha—?"
"Thought you want to be quick about this," I say, pausing on the landing to look back down at her.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to race you up the stairs!"
I raise a brow. "Who said anything 'bout a race?"
"You did. Just now."
I lean over the banister. "I just offered to up the pace. But if you aren't up for it—"
Her eyes narrow. "I never said that..."
"Then I'll see you at the top," I shrug, resuming my jog up the stairs.
Even if she ends up trailing behind, at least I’ll have had a chance to blow off some much needed steam before we get to her apartment.
"Bet your ass you will, Walker!" she shouts, blowing past me as she takes the steps three at a time.
I snort despite myself, throwing myself into a sprint to catch up to her.
This girl...
She keeps managing to surprise me.
I hadn't intended for this to turn into a head-to-head. But apparently she has a mean competitive streak and can’t resist another chance to try and show me up. Even when she’s barefoot.
I catch up to her on the next level.
"Nice try, Gale," I chuckle, using the handrail to pull myself past her on the corner of the landing. "But you ain't winning this."
"Speak for yourself, Walker!" she cries, grabbing the back of my shirt to use me as a counterweight to propel herself into the lead again.
"You wanna play dirty, huh?" I huff, reaching out to grab her around the waist.
My fingers brush against her bare skin...
...but before I can close the hold, she's twisted away.
"Close, but no cigar!" she taunts with a smug look.
"Closer than you think," I grin, pulling past her through the opening she's unintentionally afforded me.
A shocked gasp rises up from behind me. "You bastard!"
"Don't dish it if you can't take it, girl!" I call as I round the final corner.
Pushing through the burn in my thighs, I bound up the steps, pausing at the top to catch my breath.
Doing that every day'll sure keep you fit! No wonder she has such great legs...
The sound of bare feet slapping against concrete echoes up the stairwell.
Glancing behind me, I spot Gale stomping up the steps with a murderous expression, her arms crossed over her chest.
"The fuck was that, Walker?" she demands angrily as she draws level with me.
"A fair win?"
"How the hell was that fair!"
"Hey," I say, holding my hands up. "I was just playin' by your rules, Gale... So, don't tell me you've got double standards."
"I didn't rip your shirt off!" she protests vehemently, aiming a kick at my shin.
I dodge out of the way...
...and suddenly realise why she’s so pissed when I see that her arms are still wrapped around her chest.
When I'd tried to grab her, my fingers must've accidentally pulled the tie of her shimmery crop top loose at the back. And now she’s desperately trying to keep the flimsy covering from falling off her body completely while holding onto everything else she’s carrying.
An inadvertent snort escapes me at the absurdity of the situation.
"Oh, yeah. Hilarious!" she snips sarcastically, shoving past me. "Jackass..."
Her comment hits me like a kick to the gut. Goddammit...
Of all the ways I've imagined undressing her — and there have been a lot of ways! — this was definitely not been one of them. By mistake... In the most asinine and juvenile way possible.
Because now she’s pissed at me.
Again.
"Gale, hold up," I plead, stepping after her. "I swear I didn't—"
"Save it, Walker," she snaps, arriving at a nondescript door marked with the number 502 and reaching for her bag without looking at me.
Shit. She really is fit to be tied.
"Look. You're right," I sigh. "It isn't funny. I shouldn't've laughed. It wasn't cool and— You okay?"
"I'm fine," she grits, struggling to open her clutch while keeping her top in some semblance of decency and juggling her shoes and jacket as well.
"You sure...?" I ask, unconvinced. "'Cause you look like y—"
Her hazel-green gaze snaps irately up to mine. "I said I'm—!"
As if on cue, the tenuous hold she has on her bag slips, taking the rest of her precariously balanced stuff with it to the floor in a heap.
She grabs after the lot instinctively...
...only to realise she's let go of her top.
"Shit!" she gasps, grasping the sparkly fabric after a moment of stunned indecision.
I slant her a deadpan look. "You were sayin'?"
"Just... shut up," she groans exasperatedly, managing to save her decency...
...but not quite quick enough.
My eyes widen. "Yes, ma'am," I affirm, quickly bending down to start picking everything up.
She heaves an aggravated breath. "Drake, I don't need—"
"I got it," I assure her, scooping her jacket and shoes before she can get to them. "You... you got more top-level problems to deal with."
I hear her suck in a shocked gasp, followed by the rustling of fabric on skin as she hastens to adjust the wayward scrap of material.
I keep my attention focused on rounding up the various items that have escaped her bag, and not on the dozen different ways I suddenly want to tease the nipple she accidentally flashed me before I remembered to look away.
I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus, how am I gonna—?
I feel her fingers brush against mine. "Thanks..."
My eyes snap open to find her crouched in front of me with a wry, slightly embarrassed look.
"...for the save," she adds, not quite meeting my eye.
"An-anytime," I reply hoarsely, handing the now refilled clutch back to her. "And I'm sorry. About earlier. I hadn't planned on—"
The colour rises up her cheeks as she drops her gaze and takes the bag. "I know. And I'm sorry for flipping out on you. It's just... my brother Tyler used to pull stunts like that when we were younger and—"
"You still have a bad taste in your mouth about it," I finish for her. "I know."
She lifts her gaze to mine. "Sounds like you speak from experience..."
I nod tightly. "There are things my sister's probably not forgiven me for either."
"The joys of sibling-hood," she observes dryly, straightening back up to return her attention to the door.
"Yeah..." I mumble, feeling that all-too familiar emptiness settle in my gut as the ghost of Savs' face rises through the spectre of my memories.
The rattle of keys jars me from my thoughts.
Looking up, I see that Gale had located her keyring — adorned with a made-in-China, plastic Statue of Liberty — and is in the process of slotting a brass-coloured key into the lock. The tumbler clicks back and the door swings open.
I hang back on the threshold as she steps into the narrow entranceway to flick on the hallway light. The golden glow reveals the outlines of a small, open-plan kitchen-living area within.
"Do you want to—?" she asks, pausing on the threshold to look back at me.
I shake my head. "I'll wait here."
I don’t know that I can trust myself to behave if I follow her inside. And I don’t want to burn what little goodwill I probably have left with her.
She nods quickly. "Okay. Let me just grab your jacket and—"
"Don't forget these," I remind her, holding her own jacket and shoes out to her.
"Oh. Right. Thanks," she blushes again as she takes them. "I...I'll be back in a minute."
"Take your time," I murmur as she disappears into the flat.
On one hand, I’m desperate to get outta here while I still have some semblance of sanity left. But, on the other hand, I know that as soon as I turn away, and she shuts the door, that’s it. She’s out of my life.
For good.
And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
But short of bringing her back to Cordonia with me, or ditching the return flight — neither of which is an option — I don’t really have a choice.
Because let's face it. I've known the girl less than a day. It’s irrational to want to—
"Sorry, it's a bit rumpled," she apologises as she reappears, blazer in hand, errant crop-top exchanged for a white, 'I ❤️ NY' t-shirt. "It fell off the hanger."
"Don't worry about it."
She holds the jacket out over the threshold. "Thanks again for lending it to me..."
I reach out to take it. "You don't need to thank me, girl..."
Her chest rises. "I do. Because—"
My fingers brush against hers. "I just did what anyone would've done."
Her hazel-green eyes meet mine. "No."
The intensity of her declaration knocks the air from my chest.
"You did the exact opposite of what anyone else would've done," she continues decidedly. "You went out of your way to help a total stranger. Not once, but several times. Without expecting anything in return. So, it's me who owes you, Drake; not the other way around..."
I shake my head. "Harper, you know you don't—"
"...and I've yet to properly thank you."
My head snaps up.
Our eyes lock.
Her mouth parts.
And the world falls away.
I have no idea who moves first. Me or her. Maybe it's mutual...
But the next thing I know, the damned blazer is tossed to the floor and we're at each other's throats, devouring each other like a pair of rabid animals.
Because we both suddenly realise that we've been fuckin' fools for letting ourselves get jackknifed by the very circumstances that keep propelling us together. For keeping our cards close to our chests when we should've been throwing them — and each other — down on the table.
Because we've been too distracted by all the auxiliary bullshit to realise that we've wanted the same thing from the very start.
Each other.
"Fuck, baby," I groan against her mouth. "You don't owe me anything..."
"But I—" She gasps as I grab her by the ass to yank her against me.
"How 'bout we call us even?" I growl, hoisting her up into the air.
A surprised squeak escapes her.
But I don't give her a chance to protest the matter because my mouth is already back on hers, wanting more, taking more, giving her no quarter as I march her back into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.
Because now that we've finally stumbled onto the same page, I’m taking control of the narrative. No more pussyfooting around... No more second guessing.
Because we've wasted too much goddamn time already and to say that I need her is an understatement. I yearn for her... Fuckin' burn for her with an intensity that’s borderline obsessive.
So, in what few hours I have left with her, I want one thing, and one thing only. To set her world on fire the same way she torched mine just by stepping into it.
My teeth scrape against hers as I shove my tongue down her throat, giving her a promise of what’s to come.
She moans into my mouth, and I nearly lose it right then and there.
Christ, she tastes good...!
She’s a heady mix of sweet and zest that’s straight up intoxicating. Like summer raspberries and honey wine. And I curse myself for not letting myself kiss her sooner.
The sound of ripping thread rends the air.
My eyes fly open.
"Now we're even," she declares with a smirk, sending the dislocated buttons flying as she throws the top of my shirt open.
I scoff at the irony as I carry her into the small kitchenette. "Thought you wanted to save this shirt."
"That was before you ripped my top," she counters saucily, raking her nails down my chest.
A low groan escapes me as I deposit her onto the countertop. "You're lucky I waited this long, girl. I've been wanting to tear that damn thing off you since the start of the night."
"Got something against my clothes, Walker?" she asks, tugging the shirttails out from the waistband of my pants.
"Yeah," I confirm, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. "You're still wearing them."
She lifts her arms with a wry look. "That's kind of the point of clothes..."
"Trust me," I counter, pulling the top over her head and tossing it to the side. "You ain't gonna need them. Not for what I've got planned..."
"Oh, yeah?" she purrs, grabbing my belt. "And what's that, cowboy?"
"Knockin' your fuckin' boots off."
She cries out as I dive down to catch her now fully exposed nipple in my mouth, not able to wait a second longer to have her under my tongue.
I've of course gotten a sense of her thanks to that barely there crop top and skin-tight jeans she'd been wearing. So, I know that she’s slim yet toned, tending towards athletic instead of shapely, though still possessing some curvature to her bust and waist.
But clothes — no matter how revealing — are never gonna tell the full story. Which is why I've been dying to see — and feel — her as nature intended. Without any superfluities or accruements in the way.
And sweet Jesus, has it been worth the wait!
Because Gale naked — or as good as — exceeds even my wildest dreams. Her hips curve into the palms of my hands, her skin has that same enthralling scent as her hair, and while her breasts are on the smaller side, they are still perfectly soft and natural, with pert nipples that I already know I can get addicted to after just one taste.
And the way she’s responding to me? Christ, she’s gonna drive me straight to the edge just with the sounds she’s making as my hands coast over her body.
"Drake..." she moans, fingers tangling into my hair, pulling me closer as she wraps her legs around my waist.
I hear myself groan in abandon as she arches up towards me, tits thrusting up into my face, begging for more.
I heed her unspoken plea and switch my attentions to her other breast, sucking hard.
She gasps out loud, thrusting herself against me uninhibitedly. And if my giant hard-on isn’t already ready to bust a motherfuckin' hole through my pants, it sure as hell is about to now.
Because nothing’s hotter than a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.
And damn right I’m gonna give it to her.
My hands drop to the front of her jeans.
"Someone's... impatient," she gasps as I slide my tongue up her neck.
"Girl, you have no idea," I breathe, making quick work of the top button and fly. "You've been driving me to the edge of reason the whole night."
"Really?" she purrs. "I wouldn't have guessed..."
I lift my gaze sardonically as I secure a hold on the waistband of the denim. "Why d'you think I was downing shots like those things had an expiration date?"
"Performance anxiety?" she asks with a sly grin, raising her hips off the counter in anticipation.
"Never," I assure her, wrenching her jeans down.
"Drake!" she cries out in surprise.
I look up from between her legs. "You okay?"
She nods shakily. "Yeah. I... I just didn't expect you to do that..."
I quirk a brow as I manoeuvre the denim off her ankles, careful to avoid the blisters. "Undress you?"
She scoffs breathlessly. "Rip my jeans off."
I slant her a glance as I trail my hands back up the inside of her thighs. "You and I have very different definitions of 'rip', girl."
"Oh, yeah?" she pants, struggling with the remaining buttons of my shirt as my fingers skirt upwards, brushing over the lace of her thong to round her hips. "What's your definition?"
I hook my fingers into the elastic of her underwear. "The literal one."
I tear the flimsy scrap of lace off her in one forceful motion.
She jolts as she finds herself suddenly exposed before me. "I should've guessed..."
I meet her eye. "Tell me it didn't turn you on..."
She sucks in a shuddering breath as I drop to my knees in front of her. "Guess you're about to find out..."
"Damn fuckin' right," I confirm, wrenching her knees apart.
An impassioned cry is torn from her lips as my mouth collides with the slickness of her arousal. Her earthy sweetness engulfs my senses and I inhale deeply, losing myself in her sultry heat as I rake my tongue hungrily over her already throbbing clit.
Her body tips back in ecstasy, but I throw a hand out over her ass, keeping her lower half pinned in place so I can chart every inch of her.
She moans loudly, spreading her legs wider, pulling at my hair to try and guide me where she needs me most as she arcs up into my face.
My eyes shudder closed. Oh, sweet Jesus...!
If this isn’t the gateway to Heaven, I have no idea what is. Because very few things in life can top the addictive interplay between trust, submission, and eroticism that comes from pleasuring someone with your mouth until they fall apart in front of you.
And the feeling of finally being able to experience it with Gale...? Shit, it’s better than gettin' higher than a fucking kite.
Opening my eyes, I glance up at her.
She is panting above me, eyes closed, lips parted and head thrown back, raw bliss written all over her face as my mouth and tongue tug her inexorably towards complete implosion, her fingers fisted almost painfully into my hair.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
And I can see she’s close. So, I double down on my efforts with a low growl, tracing my tongue around her heated clit in ever-tightening circles as she starts to crest, moaning my name like a benediction.
"Oh, my God! Drake...!"
I feel the vibrations start before the inevitable noise...
...and my heart drops to the floor.
"Fuck..." I groan as the opening rift of Kenny Loggin's Danger Zone shatters the mood of the room.
Of all the million and one moments tonight, this is the one that gets fuckin' interrupted?
The sweet baby Jesus sure has a fucked up sense of humour...
Because this ringtone means one thing and one thing only — my night’s about to go to complete and utter shit.
But as much as I want to ignore the incoming call, I know I can’t.
I drop my head in defeat. "I'm sorry, baby... I... I gotta take this."
She whines in protest, reaching desperately for me as I pull away, as nettled by the sudden halt to the proceedings as I am... If not more so, considering that I’m leaving her in the lurch at the worst possible moment.
Like a fuckin' ass...
But unfortunately for both of us, the situation can’t be helped. Because there are some things in life that are more important than getting off.
Like the safety of a high-status foreign national...
...who also happens to be my best friend.
Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I reach resignedly for my phone, knowing that I’m not gonna like what I’m about to hear.
"Wh-who is it...?" stammers Gale hoarsely, face still flushed from the intensity of our disrupted foreplay.
"Bad news..." I mutter, answering the call without looking at the caller ID.
Because I already know who’s calling.
"Oui?" I ask, switching to French on autopilot.
Gale's eyes widen.
But I don't have time to mitigate her surprise, or provide an explanation, because Schweitzer is already barking down the phone at me.
"Vous voyez l'appât?" he demands without preamble.
I steel myself. "Non. Je—"
A low growl of frustration. "Putain de merde..."
"Attendez," I interject, forcing myself to stay calm, even though my gut’s already twisted itself tighter than barbed wire. "Que s'est-il passé?"
"Nous ne savons pas," he grits. "Une minute, nous avions une ligne de visée sur lui, mais la suivante, il a plus simplament disparu."
I frown. "Comment ça, 'disparu'?"
"Comme une fantôme!" Schweitzer — now bereft of all semblance of calm — shouts down the line.
"Non, non," I interject with a shake of my head, the rapidly building stress causing me to start pacing around the small flat. "C'est impossible. Même si nous ne pouvons pas le voir, nous pouvons toujours—"
"Nous avons perdu son signal!"
His words — and the blood-curdling implications — slam into me with all the force of a .50 cal round.
"FUCK!"
The story continues in Chapter 8 — Minutes to Midnight
A/N1: So, in the context of researching certain details for this chapter, I discovered that — in contrast to e.g. the whole of Europe — it is pretty much impossible to call a cab in New York using your phone, because there is no official NYC cab company phone number (or if there is, it's guarded with a CIA-level of secrecy 😅). Instead, if you need a cab, you go out onto the street and hail one (like Harper does). However, by the time I found this out, I'd already written the corresponding scene of Drake calling a cab on his phone both on this chapter (and in Chapter 2), so I decided to leave it in, because it helps with pacing, etc. Consequently, I instead offer my belated apologies to any New Yorkers reading this!
A/N2: As always, translations for the French:
Drake: Yes?
Schweitzer: Do you have eyes on the asset?
Drake: No, I—
Schweitzer: Fucking hell...
(lit. trans. of 'putain de merde' is 'shitty whore' but connotatively it's used the same way as the way I've translated above)
Drake: Wait. What happened?
Schweitzer: We don't know. One minute, we had eyes on him, and the next, he just fucking* disappeared.
Drake: What do you mean, 'disappeared'?
Schweitzer: [I mean] like a fucking* ghost!
Drake: No... That's impossible. Even if we don't have a line of sight on him we can still—
(I know I wrote 'no' twice in the French; it's a common form of emphasis)
Schweitzer: We lost his fucking* signal!
* So, as far as I've been able to determine, French doesn't have a term that can be inserted into a sentence to emphasise frustration/disbelief/anger the same way that English speakers use 'fuck' — this is achieved more through tone and volume. So the intent of Schweitzer's expression is as I have translated.
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Picture Credits: Stairs - Hell's Kitchen - Kiss - Harper - Taxi - Tease - Drake - Shirt
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Would you mind expanding on why jehovah's witnesses are heretics?
Other tell tales include: changing doctrine when "prophecy" doesn't come through.
Matthew 7:15–18 (ESV): 15 “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. 16 You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? 17 So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. 18 A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit.
• A true prophet’s words will be fulfilled (Deuteronomy 18:21–22; Jeremiah 28:8–9).
• A true prophet’s teachings are consistent with Scripture (2 Peter 1:20–21; Revelation 22:18–19).
• A true prophet’s teachings will encourage righteous behavior and provide spiritual benefit (Deuteronomy 13:1–4; Jeremiah 23:13–14, 32; Ezekiel 13:17–23; 14:4–8; Lamentations 2:14).
• A true prophet’s life will reflect a divine call (Isaiah 28:7; Jeremiah 23:10–11, 14; 29:9; Zephaniah 3:4; Matthew 7:15–20).
• A true prophet will acknowledge Jesus Christ as divine (1 John 4:1–6).
Their doctrine changes with false prophecies, and not the like "oh, we weren't applying this passage because we didn't like it" change. I mean the watchtower is edited every few years and changes in BIG ways. If you're a witness, get the newest watchtower, and go find the oldest copy you can and read them side by side.
Now, there's also some specific things I can get into:
Jehovah's witnesses believe Jesus is a created being, not part of a divine Trinity and equal to God. This is contrary to Titus 2:13, John 1:1-3,14-18, John 8:58 (in conjunction with Exodus 3:14, in John, Jesus refers to him self with God's name, I AM.) John 5:18, John 10:30-33, John 20:28-29, Isaiah 9:6, and Hebrews 1:8. And those are just the passages that *DIRECTLY* call Jesus God, or equate Jesus with God. There's more that infer it, Hebrews 1:6 in conjunction with revelations 22:9, (We are only permitted to worship God, yet Jesus never corrects anyone who worships him. Thereby if he is from God and does not correct people who worship him such as the angel in Revelations, he is either God, or a liar and false prophet.) (This also applies to several other heresies. I'm sorry, Jesus literally states "I am God" in John 10:30. It's plain text as clear as day.)
Jehovah's witnesses do not believe Jesus physically rose from the dead, however, in the Bible it references his physical resurrection a lot.
Luke 24:36-39, John 20:27, in John 2:19 Jesus refers to his body is a temple and says when it's destroyed he will raise it up in 3 days.
There's a lot more, but this post is getting Looooooonnnnnngggg so I'll just drop my sources and go.
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cw/tldr if useful idk: thank you from a christian. sorry for the bullshit you delt with on that post, and thank you for the sources which i will be reading for the next few days. sorry for the incoming incomprehensible paragraphs if you read them.
heyo, as a (at this point probably agnostic though let’s be honest)christian who is trying to do better, im about to read your sources for the turning tables story post and just wanted to say thank you so much (though i wish that person hadn’t made this whole situation). i’ve always had weird feelings about that passage and being raised in a very antisemitic church knew/know next to nothing of actual jewish history.
so basically, again, thank you and yikes about that person. sorry you were (insert word that means obligated, not forced but perhaps coerced by circumstances or smth) to educate gentiles (goyim? about to look up the difference) like us(though i hope i don’t come off like them). please take care!
first of all, I see u in my feed, follow if you want you don’t need to wait for permission, or don’t, I’m not your boss I’m anti-bosses
second I encourage u to look at the other notes if you want more on the actual story stuff of it, i got into the historical scholarship debates and decided I didn’t want to touch it
Third: The point of the essay was that nothing exists in a vacuum — the backdrop of everything that is Christian is inherently antisemitic. I suppose individual church’s and denominations might make moves to de-emphasize or wrestle with that fact, but it’s true! And everyone needs to wrestle with that, including Jews as our institutions have absorbed Christian morality because we are swimming in it!
Take your time with those texts (all accessible with a free JSTOR account) and really think about them because they are also arguments. Every text is an argument. You got to engage with arguments. Also they are dense motherfuckers.
fourth: never thank me for joining a Internet argument. I left this site four years ago bc I was always in internet arguments and here I am again
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Hate to hop into your asks and drop this on you but god I am inspired by your walls of text tonight. I agree wholeheartedly with everything you said. The way that people dumb Fiddleford in particular down to just some hillbilly that dated Ford in a traditional romantic relationship is honestly wrong in so many ways. I won’t get into all of them for the sake of time and you reading this, which if you do, thank you so much. Something a lot of people fail to realize is that especially with the kind of abuse Ford received growing up (from Filbrick primarily but also the other children of Glass Shard Beach), there is no chance he would ever unpromptedly confess to Fiddleford and be like “yeah let’s get in a relationship”. Fiddleford as well is also so complex in this topic. He is clearly interested in women as he does dearly love Emma (keeping a photo of her on his desk, talking about her to Ford, being shown to miss her a lot), but when it comes down to it, he was queercoded. Which yeah sure great but that is not his only character trait! He’s incredibly written as a man in that day and age where mental health was very much taboo and he was doing the only thing he could think of to cope, which does actually link back to his childhood and how he was raised Christian but that’s a different conversation, he knew no other way than out of sight out of mind taken to the extremes which is so tragic in itself. He didn’t feel like he could really confide in anyone his fears, including his wife and best friend. I think the saddest part of him, though, really comes down to the memory gun and how he was so smart, he probably knew it would cause brain damage. Yet he still decided he would rather permanently damage his mind than deal with the trauma he’d received. Anyways there’s my wall of text sorry again. Have a good night o/
WOO MORE WALLS OF TEXT. THANK YOU ANON I LOVE IT
okay okay but i really think people forget a multitude of things when talking about the nature of their relationship and its
-its the 1980s in research era. In The United States.
-fiddleford is not only noted to be christian but like. Very christian. like ford puts a big emphasis on it. and obviously being christian doesnt stop him from being queer but once again he grew up during a time when those two things Especially did not mesh together
-filbrick absolutely was the kind of dad to. React Negatively if either ford or stan ever strayed from traditional masculinity. having a parent like that seriously impacts your ability to analyze your own sexuality
but anyways thats not me saying anything against people who don't really care about all that but i find that considering the complexities of the time they lived in as well as their own personal experiences makes their relationship a Lot more interesting than just. teehee they were in love. they r so much more Okay theres so much more to look at and talk about than just them having a regular normal relationship
Anyways . moving along
fiddleford is such an insanely interesting character outside of him being shipped with ford which is something i definitely think people forget. you are very right that him inventing the memory gun and ruining his life with it is a really good (if extreme) representation of how having poor mental health back then was very very frowned upon. to the point where he'd rather do all the things he did than simply confide in the two people closest to him about his struggles.
& yes yes he is Very sad to think about because ur not wrong that he was smart enough to know what the gun would do to him. even if after a few uses it slipped away from him. when he shows it to ford and ford tells him to destroy it, fiddleford straight up acknowledges he could (and doesnt want to) forget his wife and son, before proceeding to erase fords memory and keep the gun. he knows the risks. he would rather lose his life than deal with his trauma and axiety in a healthy way. and isnt that so great and awesome i feel great about it!!!!!! <- dead
#tldr: theyre both queer but its complicated#and fiddleford is one of the best charactrrs ever to exist#even though the show doesnt really do him justice#asks#anon#tw abuse#ask to tag idr what else i talked about#long post
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Hi, none of this matters because I'm a white Christian-raised USAmerican, but I need this out of my system because it's sitting in my body like a poison and I don't know what else to do with it.
If this gets anyone angry at me, I'm just gonna let them be angry, and I'm gonna listen to their lamenting with no feedback because someone needs to.
I'm sorry.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I really, really don't.
I feel like I'm being screamed at on all sides. I'm absolutely paralyzed by frustration and fear. I don't know if I'm privileged at this point. I don't have the ability to turn away from the horror shows happening in places I can't reach. I don't have money to send. I'm disabled, my mom handles my money. I'm given very little autonomy in this world despite being an adult, I have very little power or sway over anything, and I'm often infantilized and dismissed when I try to speak up in my own house about pretty much anything. By American standards I'm poor, because I'm never allowed more than $2000 to my name at a time. But I think I still might be privileged, because I live in a house and we have money for food and water and we don't currently have bombs raining down on us.
I don't need anyone telling me whether I'm doing enough, because I know I'm not. I'm not able to go out and strike, I'm petrified with the fear that I'm gonna get hurt, and I can't make myself go in spite of this fear. I'm circulating everything I can, but I have a low threshold about these crises and there's only so much I can read at a time before I feel a panic attack coming on.
But that is not enough.
Charity isn't enough. Protesting isn't enough. It's not fast enough action. We need riots in the streets. We need people threatening the US government's safety every single day. We need every rich and famous "progressive" celebrity speaking about this and donating the millions they don't need to survive. I'm furious that not a single YouTuber has spoken up about this; I'm sure their jobs would be on the line, but that feels like a small price to pay at this time.
I always said that if I have nothing else to lose, I wanna throw a bomb through the windows of the White House. I'll get gunned-down on the lawn and called an idiotic disgrace by the rest of the world, but at least I'll have fucking done something for someone else.
Is this white martyrism? Probably. Almost definitely. I don't really know, I can't tell from a first-person perspective. I feel these feelings more deeply than I can make you believe via text alone. It probably sounds performative, but everybody is asking me for performativity, albeit necessary performativity. Keep speaking out. Keep reblogging, keep sharing. Don't look away, but don't mourn. Look at everything that's happening, but don't despair. Steel yourself, but don't become desensitized.
Am I a bystander if I see what's happening but can't help? This is a genuine question, because I actually don't know. I'm being told that I should've known what was going on years ago, and I should have because this Conflict has been happening before I've been born. Before my parents were born. My grandmother would have been just 11 years old when it began. The onus is on me to pay attention, in spite of how little US schools teach us about history outside of the US. I should have known. I want to scream at my younger self every time I decided not to look into it because "it's not something I'm really involved in", which is bullshit because the US has been involved in EVERY war since this demonic horde of misanthropes set foot on the sacred Native land of North America.
I have circulated hundreds, probably thousands of mutual aid posts in my 9 1/2 years on tumblr, and I've never been able to donate myself. I can barely help myself: my disability and mental illness make it so I can't function at regular jobs, the anxiety is just too gripping. I get suicidal ideations at something as mundane as being a cashier. I spend more than 50% of my time actively working on my mental upkeep. I burn calories just trying to keep my brain together, I feel like my own minder.
Am I resting on the laurels of disability? Of white disability? Of whiteness alone? Am I just looking for someone to tell me I'm doing a good job, like a dog would? This can't be activist's guilt, I'm too incompetent and frail to engage in proper activism. Every new word I write is taking someone's attention away from someone else suffering worse than I am. Every dollar I spend on myself is a dollar I should be giving to somebody else. Hell, every morsel of food or drop of water could be going into someone else's mouth.
Why should I spend a minute curating my life when so few people get that same freedom?
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friendship is monologuing about shit your friend don't get and doing the same for them
#if you read the text i am so sorry i am just a raised christian agnostic bastard who read homestuck and has been obsessed with classpecting#please do NOT read the text it is just flavortext#a really funny and sleep deprived one#my art#doodle#i'm posting almost everything from twt to here because im insane#genshin impact#but if you DO want to rad the text#the gist is: he's a prince of blood he (will) destroy his bonds n relationship with the side he wont choose#being a blood player it ties alot to sacrifice and weird jesus imagery#and the whole betrayal thing... judas tings!#to be both jesus and judas... amazing#I am just projecting milord#homestuck#both hs n gi is just mentioned here but#lmao
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Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)
Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.
I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???
(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)
CW for sex talk (again)
How does one get over purity culture?
Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.
Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.
According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.
Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.
You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.
The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.
Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.
Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)
Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.
*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).
#purity culture#sex talk#christianity#sex and relationships#sex and religion#mylife#answered asks#aspec#cw sex
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Runaway Ride
Fandom: Never Have I Ever
Pairing: Devi/Paxton
Rating: T
Word Count: 4889
Summary:
Kamala gets herself into a pickle, Devi needs to go to her, and Paxton has a car. Problem-solving has never been so simple, but that's how it is when your new boyfriend is Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Throw in a little hand-holding on the highway and this family crisis might just be the best date Devi will ever have.
When they finally took a break from dancing—disconnecting hands from hips and shoulders, lips from lips—Devi stepped away in a dreamy headspace. She almost collided with Jonah, but he didn’t tell her to look where she was going, only offered a shrewd, indulgent smile.
Actually, everybody was treating her like that; every eye that caught hers on her way to the table where she’d left her stuff was unjudgmental, admiring, straight up fairy-godmotherly. Devi hadn’t received this much notice since her dad’s death and her subsequent paralysis. And those looks had been pitying, freaked out. Positive attention was new and cool and she wondered, as she grabbed her phone out of her turquoise clutch, whether her socials would show more of the same when she opened them. Would people have snapped stealthy pics of her and Paxton dancing now that she’d been vaulted into the pseudo-celebrity strata of the high school hierarchy? Would the Insta posts be captioned with hashtags of their ship name? Paxi? Daxton? Vishwall-Yoshumar?
Devi never got to check.
Unlocking her phone, she found two missed calls from her mother. Maybe two wouldn’t have seemed like a whole lot to someone else, but Devi knew that, in order for her mom to risk rudeness by stepping away from the company she was hosting at home not once but twice, she’d need to be pretty frantic. Two missed calls from Nalini Vishwakumar were the equivalent of six or seven from any other mother.
Skirting the edges of the gym as she headed away from DJ Humanoid—that nit-witted saboteur of slow dances—Devi was about to call her mom back when her screen changed to an incoming call from Kamala. She pressed her other hand to her ear and answered it.
“Hey. Do you know what’s going on with my mom? She called me twice and, honestly, she knows I’m at the d—”
“Devi, shut up. Sorry,” Kamala sighed. “But I may have kidnapped your history teacher and now I’m panicking a little.”
Devi stopped in her tracks.
“You did what? Why is the sound weird?”
As she was trying to identify the background noise coming from Kamala’s end, her eyes swept over the crowd of her classmates and landed on Fabiola’s. Her friend had been smiling, mid-sway as she held Eve from behind and chatted with Sasha, but it fell off her face like Devi off Dr. Jackson’s roof. Fab disentangled herself from her girlfriend and crossed the room to stand with Devi. She was frowning, silently asking for an explanation for Devi’s distress, but Devi didn’t really have one yet.
“We’re in his car on the highway,” her cousin was saying. “He was a little drunk, so I’m driving.”
Devi had imagined that Kamala was exaggerating, but no, this was really starting to sound like a kidnapping.
“You better be on hands-free right now,” she lectured. Then, because she wasn’t exactly a paragon of road safety herself—barely an hour ago, she’d walked right out in front of Paxton’s jeep—didn’t wait for confirmation. “What the hell happened? Context, Kamala!”
“Well, as soon as I snuck out of the house—”
“But why did you sneak out?!”
“Devi, I can’t talk about that right now!” Devi’s eyebrows shot up at the clear and abnormal hysteria in her cousin’s voice. “I ran out of the house,” Kamala continued, “totally directionless, and the first thing that popped into my head was Manish’s invitation for me to come to karaoke…”
“Ew, what the fuck, don’t call Mr. K that.”
What? Fab mouthed at her, but Devi shook her head.
“That is his name and what he asked me to call him. Anyway,” Kamala said, sounding strained, “I went to your school and met up with him and now I’m driving his car and I think I might have shut my sari in the car door, but I’m scared to pull over and check because if I stop the car, I’m going to have to confront things and I think I’d rather not do that yet.”
“Kamala,” Devi said in a heavy, careful voice. “You have to pull over. I totally get what you’re saying because it sounds like something I might do—minus the part where you kidnapped Mr. K—” Fabiola’s eyes went dramatically wide as she was adjusting her tiara. “—but this isn’t you. You don’t run away from your obligations and elope with my teachers!”
“Manish and I didn’t elope. It isn’t in any way romantic.”
“For sure though? It’s not?” Devi heard another voice in the car ask.
“Mr. K, back off! Kamala’s in the middle of a crisis!” she shouted. “And please be drunk enough to forget that I yelled at you.”
“Devi, what should I do?” Kamala asked, sounding desperate in a sad way now.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Ok, well, which direction are you heading in?”
“Um, either north or south.”
“You’re a disaster,” Devi muttered.
“What was that?”
“Uh… I said, don’t drive any faster. Try to read the next sign you pass so you can tell me where you are.”
“Alright,” Kamala said.
Devi tilted her phone away from her mouth so her cousin wouldn’t hear her frustrated sigh. She locked eyes with Fabiola.
“Kamala panicked at her engagement dinner and ran off with Mr. K. They’re either headed for Mexico or Canada, but I’ll know more in a minute.”
Fab blinked.
“Wow.”
“I know. It’s a lot. And this is me talking,” Devi emphasized.
“I don’t know if you would do anything this big. Mainly because you don’t have a driver’s license.”
“True.”
“Santa Barbara in twenty-six miles,” Kamala said in her ear.
“Damn, you made good time.”
“The traffic was quite manageable.”
“Try to calm down a little and get off the highway when you can. Don’t go past Santa Barbara. I’m coming to talk you down in person,” Devi said. “Oh, and don’t answer any of my mom’s calls; she’ll just stress you out.”
“That doesn’t seem very responsible. How about I send her a text when I stop to let her know I’m ok?”
Devi rolled her eyes.
“Suit yourself.”
“Thank you, Devi. But how will you get here?”
“Let me worry about that. Text me when you stop so I know exactly where I’m going.”
“I will.”
“’K. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Devi hung up and sighed massively, slumping into the wall and feeling a streamer crumple against her back. She and Fabiola stared at each other.
“What are you gonna do?” Fab asked.
“Be the hero my family needs, but not the one they deserve.”
“Are you misquoting Batman to justify doing something reckless?”
“First of all, rescuing Kamala isn’t reckless, and second of all, the movie isn’t called Batman, it’s The Dark Knight. Young-ish Christian Bale, hello.”
Fabiola pointed a finger at her own face.
“Young-ish out-of-touch lesbian, hello. At least I was close.”
Devi sighed again while Fab smiled sadly at her in obvious sympathy.
“It’s after ten at night. How am I gonna get to Santa Barbara?”
“Assuming you’re not going to ask your mom—”
“No.”
“Then you need a ride.”
“You need a ride? I’ll drive you.”
It was Paxton, walking up and tentatively taking Devi’s hand while darting uncertain glances at Fabiola. Devi felt her entire face light up.
“You don’t want to know where or why?” she teased.
His expression said those were insignificant details. Wow. Devi’d never had a fantasy where Paxton joined forces with her, bounty hunter-style, to track down a flighty Kamala, but this felt oddly romantic. Passionate even? They’d see where the night took them.
“You wouldn’t wanna leave the dance unless it was serious,” Paxton reasoned. “So, I’ll drive you. You wanna go now?”
“I guess we better. Lemme just grab my…”
“I’ll get it,” Fab said, raising a hand like the nerd she was as she volunteered.
She darted back through the dancers to grab Devi’s things and Devi watched their classmates part for their Cricket Queen. She was so proud of Fab. Also, she felt kinda bad for ditching such a momentous occasion. But Kamala needed her, and would totally do the same for her if she ever went off the deep end and kidnapped a dude while fleeing a proposal. Not that Devi could see herself fleeing a proposal (she glanced at Paxton as she thought this, then quickly away, thinking, Way too soon!). Carrying out a kidnapping? With a sufficiently convincing pro-and-con list, anything was possible.
“Basically, Kamala freaked and drove to Santa Barbara with a drunken Mr. K,” Devi said, because Paxton might not have asked to be informed, but she wanted him to know what he was getting himself into. Beyond that, she wanted to give him the chance to say, No way, Devi. I came here to look hot and dance up on you, nothing more.
“Oh shit,” was what he said.
“Damn right, oh shit. You still want to drive? This is going to take a while.”
She should probably have felt guilty about trying to subtly persuade him with her eyes, but not only was Paxton the least complicated option, he was also her first choice. If she maintained eye contact long enough, Devi figured it might trigger some kind of boyfriend override that made going for a long drive at night just as appealing as staying here and dancing with her butt pressed thrillingly to his groin when the teacher-chaperones weren’t looking.
“As long as we can hit up the bathrooms first. I was going to, but then I got talking to Trent, and then Marcus was doing a handstand…”
“Definitely,” Devi assured him. “Good call. Empty the tank. Oh, actually, that reminds me… how much gas do you have in your jeep? If we need to stop at a gas station, I’ll have to factor that in to the ETA I give Kamala.”
Paxton shook his head at her, smiling in what she liked to think was affectionate amusement.
“I filled it up on the way here. I needed a minute to, uh…” To her epic astonishment, he ducked his head self-consciously, cheeks pinking. “You know. Get my shit together. Up here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “I wanted to show up for you, like, completely. You know?”
Right as Devi was at dangerously high risk of sagging to the floor in blissful bonelessness, Fabiola sprang to her side, shoving the rest of her possessions at her.
“Ok, ok!” Devi said, harried.
She had to dump it all on the bathroom counter a minute later anyway, but after she’d done her pre-road trip pee, she came out and gave Fab a better thank-you.
“Your Highness,” Paxton told Fabiola with a nod.
Fab nodded back, smiling wryly.
“Prosecutor.”
“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Devi assessed, “but we gotta go! Say congrats to Eve for me again!”
“Sure. Drive safe!”
Devi and Paxton pushed through the doors together, striding quickly with his hand wrapped around hers. In the parking lot, she glanced sideways to see him digging his keychain out of his front pocket.
“Oh,” she said, “so I wasn’t just feeling that you were very happy to dance with me.”
Until they got into the jeep, it was too dark to see whether she’d gotten him to blush again, but she liked to think that she had. He was definitely smiling.
They got in and Devi carefully tucked her skirt around her legs, mind on Kamala’s cautionary tale. At least it was until Paxton leaned forward to shrug out of his jacket and she saw his shoulder muscles jump beneath his fitted button-down, his narrow black tie swinging forward. Dang. Fifty shades of Hall-Yoshida.
“Santa Barbara?” Paxton double-checked once he was settled behind the wheel, steering out of the student lot.
“Santa Barbara.”
Until they were on the highway and heading out of Los Angeles, Devi did her best to keep her worry about Kamala’s situation contained to the way she flapped her phone against her thigh. Usually, she was stressing about the problems right in front of her (when she wasn’t blatantly ignoring them, only to have that approach bite her in the ass later), but with whatever was going on with Kamala, she kinda had to look ahead.
Had she wanted Kamala to get engaged to Prashant that badly? Well, the best thing about Prashant was that you never knew when having additional hot relatives would be to your benefit. (Devi was already hoping that Mr. K would get over the more nerve-wracking elements of this night and just remember having fun with her stunning cousin… and that this could possibly translate into at least a month of generous grades, if she could somehow spin these shenanigans as an intentional blind date arranged by herself.) However, an engaged Kamala was wholly different from a married Kamala. She wouldn’t be around to watch nonsensical episodes of Riverdale, or be duped into hijinks, or listen to Devi when her mom was too tired, or bitch about her shitty lab-mates in exchange for sitting through Devi bitching about her complicated feelings on the subject of Aneesa dating her ex. She wouldn’t live with them anymore, and the family that had begun to miraculously fill out after her dad had died would be back down to three. And the other two members of it would be old (Sorry, Mom, she thought) and not at all prepared to champion her dating life or the cleavage-accentuating formal dress currently buoying it.
So, yeah, Devi was looking ahead—eyes glazed over as the yellow lights of cars slipped around them to prevent her vision from fully adjusting to the blue-black sky—and feeling more than a little nervous and scared of the Kamala-shaped hole she’d have in her life if her dazzling, dorky cousin left her house for one she might eventually fill with the most beautiful children the world had ever seen.
Thankfully, Paxton was there. It startled her when he took one hand off the wheel and felt across her lap to grab hers, loosely interlacing their fingers. Devi quit hitting her phone against her leg. She sent off their updated location to Kamala and then let her phone fall flat.
“Did she say where she was?” Her boyfriend’s voice was quiet in the car and she realized for the first time that her head had been too crammed with thoughts to put on any music.
“Carpinteria State Beach. Do you know the exit?”
“We’ll find it.”
“And if you want me to drive while you rest on the way back…”
Paxton laughed.
“No way. Safety first.”
“Says the guy driving one-handed,” Devi countered, not that she was eager to surrender the hand warming hers.
He turned his head just long enough to shoot her a look.
“Whoa, pal, eyes on the road!” she said. (She had a half-baked plan to call her boyfriend ‘pal’ a few times and thereby de-weaponize the word in a memory that still felt like a fading bruise, an almost-gone sore spot in who she and Paxton were before they were openly a them.)
“Sorry,” he said, staring out the windshield again. He grinned. “You look gorgeous.”
“Really?”
“So gorgeous.” Paxton’s voice was softer this time, the underlying laugh it had carried since she’d offered to drive his jeep drained out of it. It was nearly a sigh.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“You know, I feel fucking awful for hitting you with my car, but I still think I mighta felt worse if I’d walked in and seen you dancing with somebody else.”
Devi twisted their hands, touching the back of his to her thigh so she was sandwiching it between leg and palm for a moment, aiming for reassuring.
“I wanna say I would never be that flaky, but my previous offenses speak for themselves.”
“So does doing this with me.”
“Uh,” she droned, “to recap, you left a fun thing to do a huge favour for me. You’re talking about it like this is my act of redemption. I feel like if you examine it for a sec, you’ll see how I’m actually kind of a dick for accepting your help.”
“I want us to be together,” he said bluntly. “Here we are. Together.”
“It’s that simple?”
“I don’t see why it can’t be.”
“Huh. I think you’re really gonna be good for my tendency to overcomplicate a situation.”
Paxton laughed and unthreaded his fingers from Devi’s. But it wasn’t to release her for pointing out that this date was, in actual fact, the coordinated response to a family crisis; his fingertips moved lightly over her palm, momentarily trapped when her fingers flinched inward in reaction to how it tickled, then traced along the thin skin of her inner wrist. He wasn’t trying to pull away. He was lingering. Though his touch when he sunk his hand into her hair or drew her closer by her waist had always been fairly gentle, it had often had the faint aggression of hastiness to it, clutching her as they made out in her room, always listening for footsteps in the hallway. How Paxton touched her now was pure, exploratory tenderness. It made the hairs on the back of Devi’s neck stand up as a wave of shivers rushed up her spine and crested somewhere around the nape of her neck.
He must’ve felt that wave break, the foamy aftereffects in some tic of her arm or quickening of her pulse while his fingers skimmed gradually up the inside of her arm towards her elbow, because he chanced another quick glance at her.
“That feels good,” she explained.
Paxton looked forward, nodding slowly, and shifted in the driver’s seat.
“Good.”
She thought it must have felt good for him too, knowing he’d made her shiver.
—
The miles were flicking past for Paxton—another, another, another, as fast and steady as the dashed lines painted between the lanes, his arms cutting the water on the front crawl. He wanted Devi, beside him, to believe that he was paying attention to his driving, but he was honestly kinda zoned out. Like that time he’d swum to San Diego, he let his body go through the motions (in this case, twitching the wheel, putting on cruise control when traffic thinned so he didn’t have to focus on the pedals) while his mind floated freely.
Where it floated was to his girlfriend.
At ten years old, he’d been the last kid in his swim class to jump off the 10m board. It was optional—a treat after getting water up their noses turning somersaults below the surface and doing egg-beater legs in between—but all the other boys in the group had done it eagerly, shrieking on their way down to sloppy pencil dives. Paxton had climbed the stairs all the way to the top easily enough, even stepped onto the wide platform, bordered by metal railings and rough under his bare feet. He’d walked out to the end and frozen to find himself so high above the pool.
He hadn’t feared the water, he’d feared the air. Being so exposed on his own at the end of the diving board. Eventually, he’d retreated, then surprised the coach waiting down at the poolside by turning around and taking the jump at a run. Few memories felt as good as the sensation of giving himself back to gravity and letting it reunite him with the water. He’d just had to get past the exposure.
Same thing tonight, going to find Devi at the dance. Holding her hand in his had been him reaching the platform, but when they stood together, just inside the school’s doors, Paxton hadn’t known for sure whether he would take the leap or retreat. And not just for a running start this time, but in a way that turned his sixteen-year-old present self back into one of those nervous ten-year-olds who wimped out and had to take the coward’s way down—descending each step they’d climbed. He might not have run, and yet he hadn’t needed to back up and race into their relationship either. Momentum hadn’t carried them inside for everyone they knew to see them. It had been a calm approach, even if he’d been shaking on the inside when he saw Trent staring at them.
So maybe Paxton had learned something in the last six years, or maybe it was harder to feel exposed with somebody right next to you.
She really did look gorgeous, like he’d said, and because he didn’t want her to worry about his focus if she spotted him gazing at the side of her face while she texted her cousin, the glances he stole were of the knee region. Her dress’s overlay sparkled when the high lights of eighteen-wheelers passed them and the specific teal of the dress itself reminded him of a river he’d swum in once during an out-of-state family vacation. Natural and deep and fresh, and exasperating for his parents because he’d accidentally doggy-paddled himself all the way to a small waterfall and hadn’t heard them calling him back for dinner around the campfire. He felt all that about Devi, except for hoping for a different reaction from his parents when they met her.
Holy shit. He was going to have to introduce his girlfriend to his embarrassing hippy parents. But then, she’d already met Rebecca, so maybe they were set? A sister’s approval should count for a ton.
No, no, no, Devi would have to meet his parents. He was doing this. The two of them were doing this. Paxton exhaled determinedly through his nose and made himself concentrate on the remaining miles he needed to cover. His mind, anyway. His hand continued to stroke and search, covering his girlfriend’s hand with his until he had her fingers tucked away protectively under his own, and then caressing all the way up to the crook of her elbow so suddenly that she made a noise between a laugh and a yelp because he’d unintentionally tickled her. Man, she was cute.
The very end of their journey required the most concentration from Paxton; he finally took back his hand to have both on the wheel as he steered them off the highway and Devi’s got lonely or something, because it chased across to where he was sitting and landed on his thigh. His jaw clenched. He could feel the heat of her palm through his pantleg and congratulated himself on being a driving legend for driving smoothly to where they needed to park for beach access.
Devi had a pink sweater that she put on, but Paxton grabbed his jacket out of the back as well in case she needed it. It was almost midnight and a breeze rolled up off the water, rippling his tie and swishing Devi’s dress. He didn’t have to ask what they should do next—there was just one other car parked nearby and Devi’s cousin was already standing outside of it, raising a hand to wave sheepishly as they got out of his jeep.
“Here,” he said, holding out his jacket for his girlfriend to put her arms through the sleeves. “You guys talk. I’ll be down at the beach.”
Devi turned her back to him as she accepted the jacket, but she glanced over her shoulder with a look of concern.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You’ll want privacy. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
“Just don’t swim away, ok?” she requested. “I don’t think I can handle more than one rescue mission per night.”
Paxton could tell by her expression that it wasn’t entirely a joke. He grinned and gripped his lapels, now on Devi, reeling her in.
“I promise. You’d probably take the opportunity to try to drive the jeep home, and I don’t want to risk that.”
“Me committing grand theft auto or me getting hurt?”
“I bet they tested you for smartness,” he said, “but you think they have a test for being a smartass? You’d score high, Vishwakumar.”
“I know, I know, you don’t want me to get hurt.”
She was so infuriatingly flippant, rolling her big brown eyes at him.
“That’s right,” Paxton said plainly. There he was, up on the platform again.
Devi straightened his tie and let her hand rest flat on his chest. He remembered how overwhelmed she’d looked the first time he’d placed her palm there, right on his skin. Even now, it almost made him laugh.
“Ok,” she said, and he was surrendering himself to the sweet strength of gravity, propelled down to the beach while Devi stayed to talk to Kamala.
—
Devi had heard that there were tidepools here, and she was nervous about stepping into one and spearing some aquatic animal on her high heel. Well, she couldn’t magically improve her night vision, but she could take her shoes off and remove the possibility of impalement. They dangled from her fingers as she picked her way down to the beach.
Her boyfriend was sitting in the sand, staring out at the ocean. It just looked so romantic—with the stars the sky was too bright to see at home, and the waves, and the back of Paxton’s white shirt in the moonlight—that Devi decided to slip into the scene without saying anything at all.
A mistake. Paxton gasped and jumped. Apparently, he hadn’t heard her over the noise of the water.
“Sorry, sorry!” she said.
He sighed and smiled, getting to his feet.
“How’d it go?”
“I think it went well. She was feeling calm enough to drive, so she’s on her way home now. She’s gonna cover for me until we get back.”
“That’s good… but what about Mr. Kulkarni?”
“He was passed out in the passenger’s seat,” Devi stated. “I guess he’s kind of a lightweight? Kamala said she’s going to drive back to our school and leave him and his car in the parking lot. She’s planning to call my mom for a ride home. If it were me, I think I’d take the bus and try to sneak back into the house as quietly as possible, but Kamala still has a lot to learn about how to thoroughly dodge your problems.”
“And maybe about how to climb to the second floor of your house from the outside?” Paxton suggested with a meaningful smirk.
She did her best to return it, but the odds were that it didn’t look nearly as sexy on her. Then again, she had moonlight and midnight and well-displayed cleavage on her side.
“How’d you learn to do that so quietly anyway?” Devi asked, tossing her shoes to the sand and stepping forward to boldly wrap her arms around Paxton’s waist.
He’d had his hands in his pockets, but as soon as she’d begun to move towards him, he’d pulled them out. His arms encircled her, his hands on the back of his own black jacket. Although Devi wanted to offer him the jacket back—he felt slightly chilly through his shirt—she didn’t want the two of them to separate. Besides, body heat was a thing. This was practically what it was for. So Devi just pressed herself closer, breathing the scent of the ocean and Paxton’s fading cologne.
“Trent,” he said.
“Yeah, actually, that checks out.”
Were there boundaries between warming someone up while having a conversation and just hugging them? It wasn’t clear to Devi, but it felt good when they both went quiet for a while. She stood unevenly on the cold sand and listened to the thud of Paxton’s heart.
“You never said yes,” he said eventually, quietly.
“Yes to what?”
“I told you I came to the dance as your boyfriend and you never actually agreed to be my girlfriend. We kinda just started making out.”
Devi lifted her cheek from his chest so she could look at him. He didn’t appear disappointed, more like he was making an observation. Maybe he’d been reflecting, out here in the dark, while she and Kamala had talked.
“In my books, that’s an obvious yes,” she said, grinning. “What more do you need?”
She could see him trying not to smile.
“A little atmosphere would be nice,” Paxton said. “Maybe a long drive, or the beach. A full moon. Romance me, Vishwakumar.”
Devi vibrated with silent laughter. Or her heart was just beating really, really freaking hard.
“Sounds like you’ve got some pretty big expectations there.”
“And stars,” he added. “There should be a shitload of stars.”
With that, he took one hand off her back to point far above them. Devi tipped her head back, the light of the stars a friendly blur as she tried to pick one to settle on, just one. Paxton’s face coming forward to hover over hers blotted them out. Her boyfriend kissed her, light and ghosting and then firm and slow.
“On the other hand,” he said, pulling back a little, “I think we were onto something with the making out.”
Devi smiled and dug her toes into the sand to make herself taller, lips at the ready and realigned with his.
“We did set a precedent.”
#my writing#Never Have I Ever#Never Have I Ever spoilers#NHIE#NHIE spoilers#Devi Vishwakumar#Paxton Hall-Yoshida#Devi x Paxton#Daxton#Fabiola Torres#Kamala Nandiwadal#couldn't find a gif I wanted and then all of a sudden I was making a moodboard
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Faith Is Believing What You Cannot See
Hal Jordan x AI!Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 1.4K
Warnings: Angst
Author's Note: I had this idea late last night, but the conversation of religion between Hal and his father. If he followed in Martin's footsteps and became a pilot, did that mean that Hal followed in religion too, or did he just believe in a creator? In other words, reader helps Hal contemplate divine creation while mourning Martin Jordan. Enjoy! -Thorne
**********************************************************************
He popped the beer tab and set the can down beside him before popping his own beer can, taking a sip from it. His eyes were directed upwards, gazing at the massive expanse of stars above him. He tried to remember some of the constellations that Ganthet had mentioned but nothing came to him. Here on Oa, it was so different from Earth. He could see planets and moons, stars he’d only dreamed about on his home planet.
And yet, all he could think about was Martin. Twenty-six years to the day that Hal Jordan had witnessed his father’s last day, his last flight. Twenty-six years ago, Hal Jordan watched the greatest man he ever knew die in a hail of flame and black smoke. Twenty-six years since Hal Jordan defined his life on a single moment. To be the most fearless man alive. The bravest.
Sighing heavily, he dropped his head between his cocked-up knees, resting his elbows atop his jeaned kneecaps. He missed his dad. He missed his family. He missed being a kid and skipping out on school to eat lunch with his dad after watching Martin fly all morning. He missed when life wasn’t so difficult. He missed—
“Lantern Hal?” He jerked up at the sound of the robotic tone. “Are you alright?”
Glancing behind him, he saw (Y/N) standing there, her hands clasped lowly behind her back, big glowing eyes observant; Hal could see the way the iris’ rotated with each flash-thought. “…Yeah, I’m fine, (Y/N).”
She walked over. “Your tone designates hesitation. Is there something bothering you?”
“No,” Hal murmured. “I’m just sitting out here and drinking.”
Her head cocked down. “There are two alcoholic drinks open. Are you consuming them both?”
He chuckled. “One’s for my dad.”
“Is he coming soon?” she craned her neck, and he watched the wires dance beneath her blueish flesh. “I can locate him if it is to your—”
“He’s not here, (Y/N).” Hal interrupted. “He’s dead.”
She blinked, gazing at him curiously. “If he is dead, why are you sharing a drink?”
“It’s a human tradition. When someone dies, you share a beer with them in remembrance.”
“Oh…so you are engaging in ritualistic practice?” she blinked again. “Should I leave?”
He didn’t exactly want to be surrounded by people, but at the same time, Hal didn’t want to be alone. “You can stay.”
(Y/N) took a seat beside him, sitting as properly as a humanoid robot could. “I am unfamiliar with the emotion of grief. May I ask you questions pertaining to the subject?”
“Uh, I guess.” Hal said, taking a sip of his beer.
“What does loss feel like?”
He paused, swirling the liquid between his cheeks before he swallowed and murmured, “It’s kinda like a wound that never really heals, it just scabs over and from time to time something comes along and rips it off and you feel the pain all over again. Just like it was the first time.”
“I cannot feel pain,” she acknowledged. “But your words have meaning. It would be similar to my processing units breaking down repeatedly without repair.”
Hal’s lips pulled in a satisfaction. “That sounds about right.”
(Y/N) looked at him. “When did your father die?”
He met her gaze. “When I was ten. He died in a plane crash…I witnessed it.”
“You were a child.” She noted. “Is this why you were driven to join the Armed Forces where you were able to fly aircraft?”
Hal nodded. “I lost dad when I was young and I…I never really remembered a lot about him.” he shrugged. “Flying was the way I could connect with him.”
“What was your father like?”
He chuckled. “A lady-killer who was damn good pilot and an even better husband and father.” Hal paused. “He was also Catholic.” A fond smile crossed his lips. “Never missed Mass.”
“Catholicism is a branch of Christianity.” (Y/N) said. “Do you share the same concept of religion?”
He tipped his head side to side. “I’m not really sure. Dad was Catholic. Mom was Jewish.”
“So, you are Jewish then?”
“N—no, not exactly, (Y/N).”
Her head cocked to the side. “Forgive me, I am confused. It makes sense to follow a religion of one parent. Which do you follow?”
Hal’s mouth opened, then it closed, and he finally reasoned, “It’s not so much following religion as it is believing in God to me.”
“…So, the denomination is not what is important to you, but merely the belief of a divine creator?”
“Yeah. That’s it.” He sighed. “I’ve attended religious ceremonies and prayers on both sides but every time I come back to religion, it’s more of where I stand with God then it does what denomination.”
(Y/N) nodded. “I see. That makes sense.”
He looked over. “It does?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe?”
“No.”
That was a foolish question to ask a robot, he thought. “Sorry, I should’ve seen that coming.”
“How so?”
Hal shrugged. “I mean…you’re an AI. You’re not a human like me. No offense.”
“None has been taken.” (Y/N) smiled. “You are correct though. But my belief does not come from rejection of religion, but from education in the sciences.” She met his gaze. “I am an AI. I was created for a purpose and that purpose was to protect Oa. I discover and categorize life through science and observation, not through a personal doctrine of faith. Faith is not something I can comprehend.”
“Why’s that?”
“Faith is believing in what you cannot see. Though I have control over the evolution of my core programing, I cannot take action through faith. I cannot believe in what I cannot see nor process. Belief with no evidence is not factual. It is not quantifiable.”
Hal gazed at her for a few moments. “I guess that’s a fair way to look at it.”
“Do you have faith?” she questioned, and he nodded.
“I do. In myself. In my friends.” He nudged her in the hard side of her body. “In you.”
“I believe what you are describing is trust.”
“They’re synonymous,” he laughed, then looked to the sky. “I believe that my dad is around me a lot.”
“But he is dead.”
“He is. But his spirit is still here. I feel it.” Hal’s face was firm as was his voice. “I know my dad’s with me every time I fly.”
“And you take this on faith?” (Y/N) asked.
“I do.”
She observed him. “Was your father a faithful man? Did he believe in his faith?”
“I’d like to say he was and that he did.” He frowned slightly. “I miss him a lot.”
(Y/N) hummed, though it more so sounded like she was releasing warm air through the vents in her side. “Then I shall intrude on your memorial no longer.” She stood. “Thank you for allowing me to speak with you. I have processed much during this conversation that shall allow for further core reprogramming.”
Hal smiled. “Anytime, (Y/N).”
He didn’t look back as she walked off, though she suddenly stopped and turned. “Lantern Hal?”
“Yeah?” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“First Thessalonians, chapter four, verses thirteen and fourteen. ‘And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died.’”
(Y/N) tipped her head down. “If your father was faithful as you have said…you will see him again one day.”
Hal blinked in shock, a rush of emotion spinning like a whirlwind in his chest. “You’ve read scripture?”
“I have. Access to the human web has allowed for knowledge of many religious texts. I am favorable of the main human religious texts. They allow for educating conversations of moral integrity and action.”
“But you don’t believe in any of them?”
“I do not.” (Y/N) smiled kindly at him. “You grieve your father in addition to believing in a divine creator, and this verse seemed applicable to the circumstance in which you find yourself.” She nodded. “I hope it has eased your grief, Lantern Hal.”
He gave her a wobbly smile. “Thank you, (Y/N).”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Have a good evening.”
She disappeared down the other side of the hill and Hal turned back to the stars, reaching up a hand to wipe at his eyes. They twinkled above him, and for the first time in a long while, Hal prayed for his father. He prayed for his family. He prayed for himself. And if there was a divine creator out there, from whatever religion, he hoped it heard him.
#hal jordan x reader imagine#hal jordan x reader imagines#hal jordan x reader#hal jordan imagine#hal jordan imagines#hal jordan#green lantern x reader imagine#green lantern x reader imagines#green lantern x reader#green lantern imagine#green lantern imagines#green lantern#lanternfamily x reader imagine#lanternfamily x reader imagines#lanternfamily x reader#lanternfamily imagines#lanternfamily imagine#lanternfamily#dc comics#dc imagines#dc imagine#dc#green lanterns#green lantern corps#four corpsmen#the four corpsmen
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before I ask my question, I just wanted to say thank you so so so much for keeping up your blog and consistently giving out information where its readily accessible!!!
maybe this will make me sound like an idiot but to preface, I’m a mixed filipino american. My mom is filipino and some chinese and my dad is some sort of european and puerto rican. i was wondering, in your opinion, do you think it’d be okay for me (eventually) work with diwata and anitos? And how can I start? Ive been trying to communicate with my ancestors and I’ve been looking for books to one day buy (im extremely broke so your blog and any filipino witches i come across is all the info i can get) but i honestly have no clue where to start other than with my ancestors (weird dreams lately but nothing ancestor related i think). i took a DNA test as a gift and it pointed, predominantly, to the Western Visayas so im assuming i should study more on pre-colonial Bisayan culture (my lolas from iloilo so it makes sense i guess) but i also know that “blood quantum” is a colonizer concept so i dont wanna rely on it too much :/ sorry to ramble but pls help lol
First, I'd like to say thank you for following the blog! It really does mean a lot to me to hear from others over the years on how much my blogs have helped them learn about our history and culture.
Now as for working with our diwata and the anito, that is completely ok. The whole blood quantum thing among some Filipinos I honestly don't agree with. As long as you have a family member who is Filipino, you are Filipino regardless of your "percentage" and of how you look. If you have Filipino blood in you, the ancestors are there with you. Even if you weren't raised within Filipino culture or a Filipino household because your parents never brought you up in it, or you are an adoptee like some I've met over the years. Your ancestors are your ancestors regardless. They see you and know you and that is all that matters.
Now there really isn't any book focused specifically on reviving our precolonial beliefs and practices. Yes, some did survive and some even blended in with a form of Folk Christianity in the Philippines. You can see many of the older practices and beliefs still alive, but they have been replaced with Catholic imagery and Saints.
But, in regards actually believing in and worshiping our old deities, doing rituals dedicated to the deity, or even some rites of passage like the Tagalog first menstruation rite of passage, or making carved figures dedicated to the diwata and anito, or performing maganito/paganito or atang to the diwata and anito, majority of Filipinos don't do this, or even know it.
So for being an Anito Reconstructionist, which is a label I personally use for my spiritual beliefs and others have adopted, there really isn't a book for it. A Reconstructionist in other ethnic spiritual paths, such as the Celtic, Roman, Aztec, Kemetic, Greek, Norse, etc., are those who look at historical records to try and piece together what was once practiced and believed in prior to Christianity. Over many years, these different spiritual paths have eventually come together, formed a community, and have resources like books and teachers. They have had the time to do all the research and put together a more formal spirituality based on those Pre-Christian beliefs and bringing it to the modern day where they have hundreds to thousands of people who have gone back to those beliefs. With some, they have even created temples, shrines to their deities, and even have celebrations.
Unfortunately that is not the case for us. However, due to the growing interest in our precolonial beliefs and practices over the years, I can see Anito Reconstructionism growing within the next several years. It already has, with many people actually trying to learn more about these beliefs and our old deities. The amount of people of people I've seen and talked to who have expressed their interest to reclaim these precolonial beliefs and practices is nothing compared to 10 years ago when it was hard to even find one or two people who did.
It is why I've been writing this book for a few years now dedicated to helping others in wanting to reclaim our precolonial beliefs and practices as a starting point in their research. For now though, I always recommend those who are starting to simply just read the historical texts. Grab a notebook and write down notes. Organize your notes into deities, rituals, how to make an offering, any prayers to a specific deity, how to set up an altar, etc.
Seeing as your family is from the island of Panay in the Western Bisayas, like my moms side are from, I would start with looking at the Bisayan precolonial beliefs and practices. A really good reference is reading Francisco Alcina's History of the Bisayans (1668). Volume 3 is available online in English which you can find here. Volume 3 goes into a lot of detail in the beliefs and practices. The Boxer Codex, if you are able to get a copy of the English translation, is also really good reading material.
Getting Started:
In terms of getting started, keep in mind that there is no one monolithic belief system or practice in the Philippines. Before there ever was a Philippines, we were different nations with different beliefs and practices. It is important to know your ethnic groups beliefs and practices and know their history. For example, I am Bisaya (Akeanon specifically) and Tagalog and that is what I work with. Others who I know follow the Bikolano, Kapampangan, or Ilokano beliefs. Though there are some similarities, each ethnic group had their own set beliefs and practices.
I often tell people that you can't just mix and match between them. For example, though I work with both the Tagalog and Bisayan pantheons, I wouldn't dare do a ritual offering to both a Tagalog or Bisayan deity at the same time. It's always separate. You also can't combine 2 similar deities together from different ethnic groups just because they share similar attributes. It's just rude and disrespectful.
Start out small. Set up an altar dedicated to your ancestors. If you have any family members who have passed, put a photo of them on the altar. Leave offerings of rice cakes such as suman, food like chicken adobo, or even a cup of drink such as tuba, lambanog, or even Red Horse beer. But if you can't get access to an alcoholic drink either because one you are a minor or 2 it's not available where you live, you can simply replace it with a non-alcoholic drinks like coconut juice. Get a coconut shell or a seashell to either place these offerings as bowls/plates or even use them to put your kamangyan or incense.
Then start researching how our Bisayan ancestors worshiped and practiced. Study the history and read historical accounts, books, and articles about them. Write down what you have learned on these precolonial beliefs and practices and reconstruct or revive them. This is what Polytheistic Recinstructionists do. I have listed links to these texts here.
Ask questions to your family, particularly your elders. See if they know of anything or if they can share some traditional practices and beliefs they know of have heard of. You would be surprised how, despite some families being really religious, many still believe in the spirits, do some form of ancestor veneration, believe in omens that are being told to you by the ancestors or spirits, etc.
If you can, try to go back to the Philippines and see your family's ancestral home, see where they grew up, etc. Ask about family stories and folk stories. For example, my mom grew up in Aklan and has always told me stories of the aswang and certain omens. She also constantly talks about the mischievous "little people" who play tricks on you (for example putting something down like your keys and then it goes missing, until you find it again somewhere else). In the Western Bisayas, they are known as kama-kama. There is also a story of how her grandmother's cat visited her during her wake. The cat was missing for years, but it came back and stayed sleeping on top of the casket for days before it left. My mom told me that it was the cat paying their respects to her grandmother.
Keep in mind also and acknowledge our indigenous communities who have kept their beliefs and practices. Don't try to take them into your own. I have seen people cherry pick things from the Manobo of Mindanao or the Kalinga in the Cordillera, which is just disrespectful. Many of the IP, though some still have kept their beliefs, it isn't the most important aspect to them. What they are most concerned about are other issues such as losing their homes due to occupation by oil or logging companies, other settlers such as the Tagalog and Bisayans (especially in Mindanao), getting targeted as "rebels" by the Philippine military and often getting killed. But, by cherry picking beliefs especially of the IP groups, it's just disrespectful.
I will be teaching classes on Anito Reconstructionism soon and will have my first class possibly at the end of the month or next month. I decided to do these classes seeing as there is a growing community who are interested, but don't know where to start. I'll be doing a proper announcement on these classes real soon so look out for the announcement and hopefully you will be able to join!
#filipino#diwata#anito#anito reconstructionist#polytheist#polytheism#precolonial philippines#faq#question#long post
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dude im not sure you will get it after reading this either, but you Can read it now
okay so first of all do not expect me to adhere to rules of grammar or Proper capitalisation, I am writing from the heart
so it’s been said before by other people but if Quark and Odo didnt look like the aliens that they are but instead like two regular prettybois the fandom would do cartwheels over their dynamic and Not call them a crack ship. because really, their dynamic fucking SLAPS and I’m here to tell you Why.
their surface-level dynamic is “Respected and Talented Security Chief and Cunning Immoral Businessman who are in Love but pretend not to be”
and that's just an off-brand version of enemies to lovers! which is excellent and for some people that’s all you really need to get invested in a ship.
but some people look at it and go “Hm, no, that’s not enough. I mean, they work as friends but it doesn’t really have to be romantic.” and to that I say you are Absolutely Valid, not everything has to be romantic.
it just so happens that these two fuckers have one of the most compelling romance stories ever, and it’d be a shame not to explore it.
so before I dive into the internalised homophobia and repression, I’d like to take a moment to talk about Quark as a character.
because if you have brainworms like me you can kind of see that its an honest to god greek tragedy.
this guy comes from a race of people where being kind, ethical and fair is considered Abnormal and Horrifying.
and I’m not gonna call Quark out of all people kind, ethical or fair but,,,
you ever notice how he’s A Much Better Person Than Pretty Much All Other Ferengi?
dont get me wrong, Quark is still a bastard, but every once in a while his True Character shines through.
and I say True Character because guys,,, the way he behaves around other people is an Act. he’s pretending to be something he’s not.
he has to try so hard to be a good ferengi it’s honestly painful to watch at times. because he is a SHIT ferengi!
he loves his friends- because that's what the ds9 crew are. they’re his friends! and it makes him miserable because that's not! normal! for a ferengi!
let’s compare Quark and Rom for a second.
Quark reeks of self loathing because a lot of the time he just Doesn’t act like a ferengi is supposed to, and this drives a lot of conflict in the show.
he knows how a ferengi should act, it’s just that he can’t!! fucking!! do it!! but he still tries and tries to fit into that mold, which straight up ruins his life on multiple occasions.
Rom is also not a Model Ferengi, but he lives without hating himself.
and it’s mostly because he doesn’t care about how a ferengi Should act, he’s loved and cared for even when everybody knows that he’s a shit ferengi!
because his non-ferengi-ness works to his benefit. it encourages and highlights his abilities as an engineer. the success and love he finds make it easy for him to be content with his true self. Unlike Quark, who doesn’t get unconditional love from anyone.
its so!! tragic!!
because you can see what Quark is really like!! his true self!! he’s a nice guy who cares for people!
its right there all the time and it's so blatantly obvious. especially in episodes like “Body Parts”, “Bar Association”, “The Way Of The Warrior” and “Ferengi Love Songs”
his own wiki page literally calls him “a compassionate and generous man by ferengi standards” which pretty much translates to “not really a good ferengi”.
anyway so Quark is a tragic figure or whatever but we’re actually here for the REPRESSED! HOMOSEXUAL! TENDENCIES!
that he and Odo both exhibit.
with characters like garak you don’t really need to have brainrot to pick up on those tendencies, because that was something andrew robinson chose to do, on purpose.
and to be fair, Quark wasn’t intended to be Any kind of representation, not even by the actor. I’m just pointing out that he Does look and act and talk like a little gayman.
I will admit that he is Painfully Straight in the text of the show, but on a meta level he’s just. a dude who has a serious case of repressing his real personality. and taking it a step further- he also represses his feelings towards another man.
and that man is Odo.
a few things on him:
Odo is literally desperate to be a person. unlike Quark, who at least has the comfort of belonging to a society of people with a set of rules and expectations, Odo has never met anyone or anything like him in all his years of life.
like, we all know Odo basically grew up in a lab, right?
with people who didn’t know anything about him. who he was so unalike that they literally called him “Nothing”
but he still learned to look and talk and act like them (because if he didn’t he’d feel *pain* which is very fucked up by the way?)
so we know for a fact that Odo wants to be recognised as a person- which is why he tries really hard to conform to the ideals of the society that raised him.
instead of exploring his nature as a shape shifter he maintains a humanoid form, picks up a job and creates an entire personality around what he wants to be seen as. but not what he really is.
and that's the thing that causes all the conflict between Quark and Odo.
the type of person odo wants to be seen as is the polar opposite of whatever the fuck quark wants to be seen as.
In the same way that Quark acts like a Normal Ferengi, Odo acts like a Normal Security Officer. and in a cruel twist of fate, the Ferengi happens to be the antithesis of the Security Officer.
If you only look at them as the things they act like, and not the things they are, you might say they’re way too different to like each other, right?
but,,, if you think about the fact that they’re both putting on this act,,, this performance of idealised versions of themselves,,, you can see that they are The Same.
They Are Both Gay Repressed Loser Aliens Who Try To Act Like Things That They Aren’t!
Imagine you’re Odo.
Imagine that you’re Nothing, because you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen- and because you are Nothing you don’t fall in love with anyone for years and years. since who could love something that isn’t like them at all?
But then one day this Thing shows up in your path and you just hate it. Because it’s not like anything *you* have ever seen. It’s disorderly and looks grotesque and it’s criminal to boot.
It’s all the things you learned would make a “Bad Person”
It’s everything you aspire not to be, because if you were any of those things you would BE PUNISHED.
But the trouble is, eventually he’s not an “it” anymore, he’s “Quark”
and you see him every day of your miserable little life because you live on the same damn station in space and it’s hard to avoid each other.
He also happens to be one of the only things in your life that are constant. He will never leave because he is stubborn and greedy and you just *hate him so much* that you’re convinced he must be doing all of it to spite you.
And yet you also can’t seem to leave him alone.
So Odo Must Hate Quark. everything else is a non sequitur for him. he can’t not hate Quark.
because Quark is, and i’m sincerely sorry to apply christian fucking imagery to this, The Forbidden Fruit.
If he liked quark he’d admit some kind of moral failing. it would be the end of his act. but on the other hand...it might be a good thing, because at least he could have quark.
but Odo can never go through with biting into this apple because the consequences are horrifying to him. he could never have quark because, according to his performance, he would Never like quark to begin with.
and here’s a take for you:
Odo's Brand Of Internalised Homophobia Doesn't Stem From Heteronormativity. It Stems From The Fact That He Was Kind Of Assigned Asexual At Birth.
and the show sort of alludes to this, for real! not just subtext! canon!
except the writers used the wrong person.
because instead of Odo having these Forbidden Feelings for Quark he has them for,,, Kira.
but since this is My Quodo Manifesto you’ll understand that i am 100% willing to just toss that part of canon out the airlock.
so Odo does canonically have that mindset of “no one could ever love me”
for decades he repressed any and all feelings of love to avoid getting hurt. in the show he breaks this cycle of repression when he takes a chance and enters a relationship with Kira. yay?
but we all know that aint it chief. and part of the reason why That Ship Ain’t It is the fact that Quark is Right There. and he is simply the more interesting choice for odo.
he and Odo literally share the same problem and have weird intertwined character arcs!
they are both dreadfully afraid of not conforming to the ideal versions of themselves, so they reject everything that could challenge their Performance!
on some fucked up level they hate each other *and* themselves individually. and this hatred makes them reject parts of their real identities for the sake of protecting their image.
which. yknow. in gay people. is internalised homophobia!
so you can see that they’re both repressing A Lot even if you view them as Friends, but the most important thing in this kind of romantic dynamic is usually,,, when the characters *stop* repressing.
and the thing is.
the thing that Kills Me with these two.
They Never Get That Moment. Thats Why You Need The Brainrot To See Them As Romantic.
The Ascent gives us an example of what happens when they both take their act too far. I mean, who could forget “Fascist!” and “Fraud!”
That is what odo thinks of quark’s performance and vice versa, but we don’t really hear them adress the fact that they *are* playing these roles to a ridiculous extent.
We also never get an example of what would happen if they dropped their act instead of over-performing it. or rather we don’t get to see both of them drop it.
And the reason why we never get that moment is because there’s this one key difference between Quark and Odo.
Quark knows that he’s constantly repressing his true nature and his feelings for odo. We pretty much hear him say so in the iconic root beer scene in Way Of The Warrior. he knows that he’s not a good ferengi but he keeps up his act.
So quark is aware enough to feel that sweet sweet self loathing.
But Odo isnt self loathing as much as he is just self sabotaging.
and this subtle difference between them is why, at the very end of the show, we get “That man loves me, can’t you see? It was written all over his back!”
this moment is quark dropping his act and asking odo to do the same.
he wants to hear a genuine Goodbye from him because they have known each other for Decades and they are Friends.
but odo is so unable to express the feelings he’s been repressing all these years. that he self sabotages again and just walks away.
even though this is like. very anticlimactic. considering I just spent 2000 words talking about how Odo and Quark are Most Certainly Gay For Each Other.
The fact that their ending is so Weird is the reason why quodo is so engaging and appealing to me? especially post-canon quodo.
like, the amount of “what if’s” this ship has are Astounding.
What if either of them had dropped their act a little sooner? What if they both did, for just a moment, and it was the straw that breaks the camels back?
What if Odo comes back after a few years? What if Quark comes to get him?
What if, in that moment in the finale where Quark drops his act, Odo had returned the gesture? What if Gag-Reel Quodo Kiss.gif Real?
with the depth that I read into their relationship, those what ifs are really fun to think about.
anyway its 1 am and i’m not an english major so literary analysis is not like, my strong suit. plus most of this was written in a late night screaming session with a friend who has the exact same opinions as me. i just think aliens hot and in love. thats all.
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wait ! if you have the time could you explain where 'Achille and Patrocles as lovers' comes from then please ? I am very ignorant on the subject and assumed it was in the Illiad (which... I never finished reading sorry)
you have my sympathy there, the iliad is not particularly reader-friendly, even compared to other ancient literature. so the iliad does not explicitly depict achilles and patroclus as lovers, but it is very clear that the bond between the two of them is incredibly powerful, such that achilles essentially has nothing left to live for after patroclus is killed. but just within the iliad, that relationship is one of two friends and close comrades (and possibly cousins? not sure whether the iliad specifies patroclus’s genealogy) and does not explicitly have a sexual/romantic element to it. and the iliad (an oral tradition fixed at some time around the 8th century bce) is the earliest source we have that discusses achilles and patroclus.
however, from really early on in antiquity, people clearly understood the two of them as lovers. madeline miller definitely did not invent that, she drew on a very long tradition nearly as old as the iliad itself. plato (late 5th-4th century bce) talks about them as lovers, and it’s pretty clear that he wasn’t the one who invented this idea. there was a strong tradition of reading achilles and patroclus as lovers long before plato. personally i suspect that this tradition dates back as far as the iliad does: there was a vast amount of oral mythological material circulating in the greek ‘dark ages,’ and what we have in the form of the iliad and the odyssey is just a small fraction of those many different and divergent narratives, so it’s pretty easy for me to imagine that bards singing other ‘versions’ of the iliad might have specified a romantic/sexual element of their relationship, and even that people hearing a ‘version’ more similar to the iliad we have today might have been familiar with or assumed the narrative of the two as lovers even if the bard they were listening to didn’t include it. of course that’s not much more than speculation and is totally unprovable, but i’m finding it very interesting right now to speculate about counteriliads and alternative odysseys and the traces they left in the homeric corpus itself and outside of it.
anyway by plato’s time people were clearly reading the iliad (in the form we have it) with the assumption that achilles and patroclus were lovers, and that reading persisted throughout antiquity and beyond. early modern to modern christian readers might have totally discarded that reading because they were unable to reconcile two male lovers with their ideas of sexuality and morality and heroism, but often gay readers fixed on it and the accompanying idea that male-male sexual/romantic relationships could be good and heroic, and we see that from the early modern period as well. so at different times the understanding of them as lovers has been more or less the dominant reading, but it’s not actually technically in the text or the “canon”, which raises some really interesting questions about gaps between the actual text of the iliad and various cultural perceptions of the iliad, and then brings me to my favorite point that maybe the real homeric canon was the friends we made along the way.
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okay but where tf is my hg tannhaus content at? he basically had to raise some baby just after he lost his kid and grandkid, he's a clock maker who doesn't (or does depending how you see his 'splitting the world' thing) time travel and his 'life's work' is borne from a bootstrap paradox. all i'm saying is. hg tannhaus king.
Sorry I kind of forgot about this asks and I'm not sure if this response will satisfy your need for more Tannhaus content but here we go.
It's true, his clockworker aesthetic is extremely underutilized in fanart and I rarely see any fanfiction of him, even though there's tons of potential interactions with Charlotte and internal struggles that the show chose not to portray. Like how does Tannhaus deal with the absolute whiplash of losing his entire family and then becoming a father again in the same night? What's the relationship between him and Charlotte like? Besides all the obvious angst? Do they make pancakes together? Does Tannhaus actually dare to love her or is he scared that he will lose her "again"? We will never know!! Although sealandreich on ao3 has a very good Charlotte- and Tannhaus-focused series, so I would recommend you check that out.
Usually I would rant more about how this character deserved way more screentime, however! in this case I understand the artistic choice behind retaining Tannhaus for as much as they did. It makes sense if you see the series through a Jewish/Christian lens with Adam and Eva representing their biblical counterparts and Tannhaus as the creator of their universes representing god. Though usually in religious texts, god is presented either as a punishing force or as a loving fatherly figure. Dark subverts this expectation by making it's god figure mostly ignorant towards his creation. Very angsty and *Hannibal voice* nietzschean, if I dare say so. On a side note, it's also very obvious that Claudia is Dark's take on Satan, even though (or rather especially because) she is not a purely malicious force. She's the one pulling all of the strings, she's the one getting Jonas and Martha to commit the original original sin, and generally being a morally grey queen. And like... she gets called "Der Weiße Teufel" all the time, I think we get it lmao.
Another religious approach, that also fits nicely into Dark's love of the number three, would be a Hindu reading, where Tannhaus, Adam and Eva each represents a part of the Trimurti. Tannhaus would therefore be Brahma the creator, Eva would be Vishnu the conserver and Adam Shiva the destroyer. I am not at all an expert on Hinduism but as far as I understand all of them are actually one entity (->everything is connected). Which also ties in with a third possible reading:
The whole multiverse is Tannhaus's trauma response to losing his family. I know, this is basically canon but I propose that if we theoretically could see every character, who was created in the time travel bullshit thing, as a facet of Tannhaus's personality/emotional response to his trauma. Adam represents pure anger and bad coping mechanisms that only hurt him and others more, whereas Eva represents his urge to remain in this sort of comforting stage of depression. I guess that would make Claudia a therapist of some sorts? Or maybe his only healthy impulse in all of this mess? Idk at this point I'm just rambling.
This got very dry and very serious very quickly so fun Tannhaus headcanons: He loves bird watching (while they are alive), he once met Nena but didn't recognize her (one of many things to fuel Charlotte's teen angst) and.... he's trans. (There's nothing to indicate that any of this is true, I just want it to be.)
To conclude this essay, yes, Tannhaus is actually technically speaking the main character and yes, I will probably make fanart of him soon and lastly yes, Dark good. Have a wonderful day, anon.
#idk if any of this made sense to you#im not used to writing analysis#especially not in english#i know theres a lot more to be said but i am just a dumb bitch#and theres only so much time in a day#here you are i guess#ask#anonymous#anon#dark#dark series#film analysis??#hg tannhaus#claudia tiedemann#adam dark#eva dark#dark spoilers#dark season 3 spoilers#dark netflix#jonas kahnwald#martha nielsen#if any of you disagree with this pls be kind#its been a while since i last watched dark
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