would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?
i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point
The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.
I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠
✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨
Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?
Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.
He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.
Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.
And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.
He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.
It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.
Aren’t you, Max?
Isn’t he?
Is he?
So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.
He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.
He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.
You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.
No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.
Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.
If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.
You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-
“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.
Fuck. Fuck.
Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.
“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”
Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.
You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”
“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.
“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.
“Sure,”
Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?
He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.
You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.
“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”
He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.
Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?
“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”
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hey it's nanowrimo. i have tips bc i've done it about 34 times.
Don't edit. Ever. Stop it. If you just decide to start a new project half thru this one with all new characters, no problem. pick up and keep writing as if you'd already written the first half of that.
"but i spelled it wrong" whatever. "but the grammar" whatever. make it exist first. no time for sense. think like you're working on a typewriter. no backspace. only forward go.
Don't re-read further than a paragraph or two backwards. "did i mention the gun before?" listen - it doesn't matter. if you need there to be a gun there, the gun is there. put it back in once you finish the book.
"i forgot the specifics of X thing i already wrote" whatever. change it, make a note/comment to figure it out later, and just write what makes sense for the moment. "no raquel it's legit the characters name and origin" idc that character is now reborn as Claudius from Elsewhere. it's fine.
only you see your mistakes. nobody else knows. one of the ways writing and dance overlap - only you know the choreography. nobody else will know if you miss a step, so just keep dancing and pretend you meant to do it like that.
it's an illusion that you need to write linearly - from point A to point B to point C. Nah; that's just timeline propaganda. I've written a LOT of books out of order and just reordered them once i've finished. if you have a scene you'd LOVE to write but can't get there yet because of plot, just fuckin write the scene. I've always found its easier to establish "point F" "point J" and "Point A" and then wiggle my way between those scenes.
write what you WANT to write. 230 pages of smut? of well-researched discussion on bread? whatever. the point is to strengthen muscles however you can.
if you miss a day, a week, whatever. not the end of the world. we all have dry days. also time is a myth so u can do this challenge whenever u want.
as soon as you try to write for a specific audience, you kill your voice. you are writing for yourself. stop thinking about how people will take ur book. it don't matter. what matter is u, enjoying writing. i luv u.
play to your strengths. i have characters talk so much because i don't know how to write a plot if it kills me but i'm really good at dialogue so.
i love a flight of fancy. write a poem in there. shift tactics and write in code. keep it fun for yourself.
see what happens if you shift something major about ur main characters - gender, wealth, superpowers. or if you change point-of-view. or if you kill everyone in a big explosion. do NOT edit anything before this or after it. often these little weird one-off exercises teach me what interests me about what i'm working on. it is never what i thought. plus it is a fun way to add like 1k words.
stretch.
it's for fun and for practice. stop doing that project if it's giving you anxiety. once my nano was literally 50k words of half-started stories. just things i tried and tried and tried and wasn't able to flesh out. oops. but i am now 50k words of a better writer.
add dragons?
read books/listen to books on tape/etc. people often make the mistake of "buckling down" to just write. you need inspiration. you need to like. fill up on words. you need to remember how it feels to lose yourself in a story.
i don't have the time or space to really talk about this in this post but a lot of creative people turn to drugs/alcohol because it can help you be more creative. this is harmful, and walking a blade that only cuts deep. if you notice you and your loved ones are turning more to substances, please know i love you and i hope you are able to get help soon. i feel like this almost never gets mentioned because it's kind of a hazy underbelly to art. you are always more important than the work.
on that note. drink your fukin. water.
don't talk about a story until you've finished it. once you tell the story, it exists already, and isn't about discovery. i usually have a very canned "haha we'll see" response.
grapes :) tasty snack.
i love you be free.
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Y'know someone's probably waxed poetic about this already but it's on my mind so I'm gonna do it again.
When it comes to encouraging people to learn about native plants and habitat and involving themselves and their yards in the wider ecosystem, you gotta meet them where they're at.
And maybe that means they won't go as far into it as you are or would like them to in your wildest dreams. But even small steps count towards the bigger picture and I think we need to appreciate that more.
An example from my own life is my mom and the current gardening project we're working on. We're planning out the garden beds in the front of the yard by the mailbox--my mom's previous plantings for the most part haven't worked out, so I'm taking a crack at it.
I'm a pollinator gardening enthusiast who cares more about attracting as many butterflies bees and hummingbirds as possible than keeping things 'neat' and 'tidy'. However, not only do we live in an HOA neighborhood (though not as intense as some other stories I've heard), but I know my mother--an interior designer who has a deeply vested care for making sure the exterior of the house looks as Nice as possible.
We're still getting a pollinator garden in the front though. How? I'm meeting her where she's at, I'm making some concessions, she's making some concessions, but ultimately we're making something that works for the both of us. She doesn't want the plants too tall and messy? We'll trim them back in fall and winter--the insects can use the backyard garden to nest in. She doesn't want things too wild and bushy and weedy? We'll add a nice mulch to the beds, keep things a bit spaced out until they grow in to their larger sizes. She doesn't know the latin names for the plants I'm asking for, let alone how to pronounce them to ask for them at a garden center? That's fine, I don't know the Latin names for most things anyways, let's just use common names.
Does she care that the garden will attract butterflies and hummingbirds? Not intrinsically--she sees it as more of a bonus, if anything. She just cares about what color everything will be and if it'll be easy to maintain. The fact that they're native plants barely registers as a plus side to her. And honestly? That is fine.
If I approached this problem with a hardheaded attitude on how I wanted it to be just as wild and free as my backyard garden? There wouldn't be any native plants in the front beds. It's not like I didn't teach my mom things, but I didn't lecture her like she was lesser just for not knowing or caring as much about native gardening as I do. And that, ultimately, made her more open to the idea than she would've been if I looked down on her like I've seen too many people do to others.
Not everyone is going to develop a deeply seated care about native plants and Latin names and I don't think it's reasonable to expect that. Meet people where they're at and you just might get a lot more done. Meet people where they're at and you just might find they'll get excited enough to learn more--but if they don't want to learn more, that is fine.
We can't expect everyone on the globe to suddenly become plant experts rattling off Latin names left and right and professionally ID'ing native and invasive plants. In the same way we wouldn't expect everyone to suddenly learn the ins and outs of learning code, or how to synthesize medicines, or how to properly build a house. And that is fine. Because we can lean on those who do know when these things come up.
I lost track of where this was going but. Y'know????
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WSBH chara q’s: (you don’t have to answer all the numbers, just whatever you want to 𖢘)
16/35/51 for Scotch
1/6/55 for Atlas
I LOVE YOU
16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?
okay i truly think scotch argues with seraph in his head all the time. ALL the time. scotch largely ignores them, and vice versa, because he dislikes them and they know it. seraph is very conflict avoidant lol, and as long as hes not a "threat" they dont care to talk to him about their problems. he probably argues with atlas and jacob (his older brother) too, atlas about more stupid small stuff, and jacob about childhood and life stuff :p
im trying to think of more general groups he would argue with but i cant come up with anything BAHAH. hes not exactly conflict avoidant in the annoying libra way that seraph is, he more just ignores conflict for his friends’ (mostly atlas’) sake. idk if that makes sense LOL
35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?
hmmm.. smallest? i mean scotch strings eloise along for most of the time pre timeskip. its not a main focus but its definitely important in order to understand scotch as a whole. she and scotch go out for a while, and mid way through that he realizes hes GAY gay. lol. and obviously lying to her about that is pretty questionable after a while. especially since he and atlas have been 👉👌 like the whole time. but she kind of knows. well
something a little bigger would be him encouraging or otherwise turning a blind eye to all the weird stuff atlas is up to. he doesn't know what it's like to be a werewolf, he can't say anything, right? lol.... murder is okay if its a talking dog doing it. scotch enabler supreme. actually when seraph is introduced, he and atlas have a 'joke' (kind of starts being real) about luring seraph somewhere to kill them. obviously doesnt happen and gets abandoned. but i think its important to know about their dynamic LOL
51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?
this guy is kind of goofy. i cant think of phrases rn but he has a specific way of speaking.. you could watch pretty much any old pop punk band interview and kind of get the idea. HAHAH
1. What’s the lie your character says most often?
atlas is a big fan of saying 'its fine' for all situations ever. family in mortal danger? its fine. completely splitting? its fine. arthritis excruciating? its fine. hes one of those people that dont like to deal with the fawning of others unless hes feeling real special. Ends up putting people in more danger a lot of the time. i think eloise is the only fan of communication in this friend group to be honest. i should have made her the main character
he tends to make promises he cant keep as well, but thats more general..
6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?
i have NO idea. i feel like atlas would be a music snob, so maybe his favorite 'super underground' bands. otherwise he'd probably never recommend raw human meat to another human (no matter how much scotch asks -__-).. (he would chicken out anyway)
55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?
um. so atlas hates working out. he especially hates running, you know, the thing that wolves are known for doing a lot of? unfortunately the lycanthropy came with a side effect of pretty bad arthritis, so that doesnt exactly encourage him. he DOES exercise, a lot since hes pretty much required for his ermm "side job", but he hates it 😸 besides the arthritis it’s mostly because I think it’s silly that he hates it. yay
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