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#live recorded with harmonies

eye-of-the-purricane · 1 year

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youtube

Beard of Harmony ft. Yann Phayphet - Right in Two

Tool cover, acoustic. Recorded on a rooftop in Bangalore, India. Guitar : Ruben Simon, Sreejith The Beard Vocals : Sreejith The Beard, Ruben Simon Double Bass : Yann Phayphet

#beard of harmony #yann phayphet #right in two #tool #cover version #rooftop #live recording #live performance #acoustic #music #music video #Youtube

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illithilit · 3 months

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Bhaal became the god of murder, as we know, and Yzare is the metaphorical rib from beneath his breast. But she isn't contented with just being his greatest creation, his plaything to be used when and how he pleases; she wants her own power, her own glory. She wants to swallow him whole, consume his essence, erase him from the minds of anyone who ever knew him. He is murder. But she is death, more pure than he was. She is the fear when you hear the howling of wolves alone in the forest at night. The panic you feel when you realize the food you just ate was poisoned. The inevitable creeping of the cold shadow behind you that neither cares for you, nor heads your pleas.

Kelemvor is the inevitable peace and calm of death, but Yzare is the inevitable hunt death takes up upon your heel. She will never surpass him without his destruction, but oddly.... She feels a sort of cosmic peace about that knowledge; he is the one death who she will allow herself to be lesser than.

#sorry for being weird last night. it's just because there's a bunch of shit wrong with my brain // mobile.#Thoughts about my durge baby!!!#I definitely think she aims to become a proper goddess outside of Bhaal's control #But it struck me as interesting that the vibe was vm chill with Kelemvor #despite the fact that unless she kills him she will always be a subordinate deity to him #I kind of actually see them as the difference between Hades and Thanatos actually #both similar but different in tone and purpose and therefore harmonious #Well actually when you consider Jergal and Bhaal too #The metaphor more accurately becomes Kelemovr as Thanatos ( peaceful death )#Bhaal as the Keres ( violent death )#Jergal as Hades ( the record keeper of death )#And Yzare as Moros ( the doom of death )#Anyway I'm actually LIVING for m'girl Red Death Yzare here 8)#live each day as if it were your last because I'm going to kill you but I'm not super good with schedules // Yzare headcanon.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Harmony || CL16

Summary: Being a musician isn't the easiest way to make ends meet. Aside from being in the local orchestra, you balance being a tutor and a tuner - one Charles hires to tune his piano. Warnings: none, fluffy WC: 1.2k F1 Masterlist

Of course the city would be busy when you were running late. As much as you might have tried to run, or at least power walk, you didn’t want to damage the precious cargo you were carrying. You managed to make up some time at the sacrifice of your lungs and you were still recovering when you reached the address of your last appointment.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr Leclerc, my violin lesson ran over.”

“That’s okay, and it’s just Charles,” he corrected as he opened his door wider for you to enter his home. It was easy to see where you were going to be working so you headed straight to the upright piano in the light and airy living room. After placing your violin case on the floor beside his coffee table you shrugged off your backpack and opened your tool kit.

“May I?” you asked as you reached for the memorabilia balanced on the top you needed access to.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He rolled his eyes at himself for not preparing the piano for your arrival and helped you clear it off. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you, Mr- I mean Charles.” You opened the top lid before removing the front panel and sat down on the bench. First you tested the keys and pedals to see if any were sticky but they were in good condition, and you listened to each key to determine how much work was needed.

“How long have you been learning to play the violin?”

You looked away from the keys as Charles took a seat on the sofa near your instrument. “Oh, no, I teach it. Well, I suppose I am still learning, because there is always room to improve, but my lesson was with a student.”

“So violin tutor and piano tuner,” he said with an impressed nod. “That is quite the niche market.”

“Not as niche as yours,” you pointed out as you pulled a tuning fork out of your tool kit. “There are certainly more than 20 of us in the world.”

The racer cracked a smile that was quite disarming and you had to return to your work as your cheeks warned. “When was she last tuned?”

He chuckled nervously and you winced before he even answered. “When I bought it, two and a half years ago.”

You suppressed the sigh that built and grabbed the adjuster to start moving all the keys up in pitch. “Without regular tuning, you’ll likely find she needs fine tuning again in a few weeks.”

Charles smiled sheepishly and nodded. A comfortable silence fell as you continued your work, moving with confidence through the motions until you were satisfied the piano sounded perfect. Replacing the front panel and closing the top, you took a seat again for the final test. There was already a page of sheet music on the stand so you placed your tablet next to it and opened the app that picked up notes and confirmed if they were in tune or not.

Your eyes scanned the sheet and you heard the melody in your head before you let it flow into your fingers that started their graceful dance across the keys. One page was more than enough to check your work was done but you were a little disappointed that you weren’t able to hear the remainder of the song as you closed the lid.

“I haven’t heard this before,” you said as you picked up the sheet but it had no markings on it. “Who is the artist?”

Charles rose from the sofa and took the page with pink cheeks. “I, uh, I wrote it.”

“It’s beautiful, and sad.” He frowned at the strange compliment and looked away before you placed your hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with sad music. It is meant to be a way of expressing oneself so it doesn’t fester inside. I tell my students it is a good thing.”

His frown softened and his grip on the paper eased before he reached past you to place it back on the stand. “I wanted to add some other instruments once I recorded it, but I wasn’t sure which ones.”

You nodded to yourself as you replayed the sonata in your head, your fingers drawing invisible notes that could accompany the melody. “Hmm, I think I can help…if you want?”

“Please,” he said as he watched you grab your violin case and unlock it. The lid opened with a creak and his eyes widened as he saw the logo for the Monegasque Royal Orchestra in the velvet lining. “You play for the orchestra?”

“Second chair,” you hummed with a proud smile. “We are playing for Prince Albert’s birthday this weekend.”

“I guess I will see you there.”

Of course he would have an invitation to the Prince’s birthday, all the important people in the principality would be there. “That’s one way to make me nervous. I’ll try not to mess up for you.”

“I think you’ll be great,” he said with a grin as he sat at the edge of the bench and watched you raise the delicate violin to your neck.

“Do you want to play and I will join you?”

“Uh, sure.” He was the one who seemed nervous now and he cleared his throat as he turned on the bench seat, his toes hovering over the pedals. “Here we go, I guess.”

His long fingers were elegant and his wrists remained loose as he began to play. You let the first eight bars open before you closed your eyes and drew your bow across the strings in harmony to him. Charles stumbled over the key as the higher octave caught him by surprise but he recovered with a quiet apology and soon the piece rose into an emotive crescendo that had your chest aching before the last note died out.

You let your arm relax and the warmth from the rosewood rest cooled on your skin as you lowered the bow and violin to your sides.

“That was…incredible,” he said as he turned in his seat.

“You are a very talented man, Mr Leclerc,” you said as you carefully laid the violin back into the bracket and locked it up. “A lot of people can play the piano but very few have the creativity to write their own music.”

His blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and he fidgeted with the ring on his finger. “Thank you, for tuning my piano and playing with me.”

“It was a pleasure.” You packed up your tools and shoved them into your backpack before picking up the violin case and looking at the door. “I hope you enjoy the concert.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said with a genuine smile as he walked with you to the entrance way. “Maybe we can have a drink together afterwards?”

You clutched the handle of the case tighter and tried to control your excitement with a small nod, but your smile was uncontrollable and bright. “I would like that.”

“I’ll see you Saturday.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine

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alicanta77 · 5 months

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NCT Dream Reaction: Collab with their idol!s/o

Mark:

this would probably be his dream

he is so busy all the time

and he knows his schedule isn't going to calm down anytime soon

so at least this way he can get his work done

and spend time with you as well

and he got even more excited when he found out it was just the two of you and your groups weren't going to be involved

now he gets you all to himself

just him and his favourite girl

would treasure every single second that he gets to be with you and work with you

loves watching you work and just finds you such an inspiration

every now and then just stops for a second and goes

"dang... that's my girl..."

he's just in awe of you 24/7

you truly are a goddess to him

Renjun:

would become a complete and utter cutie patootie

literally melted when he heard that your group was doing a collab with nct dream

like actually shrunk down in his chair and smiled so widely

you got to sing the most beautiful duet together

and the harmonies made hairs rise on his arms everytime he heard you sing them

would definitely plan to sing this song when he finally gets to marry you

this whole experience would just melt renjun right down to his core

would be so so SO excited for the fans to see it too

like he's play it non-stop and enjoy every second of the promo that you two got to do for it

seeing him and you have so much fun brought loads of positive attention from fans as well

and renjun couldn't believe his luck that he got to do this with you by his side

Jeno:

the most supportive boyfriend ever

would just be smiling all the time

like you're doing a darker and twisted concept

but jeno is watching you in the corner like (.◜ ᵕ ◝)

everything you do is like it is the most incredible thing on the planet

definitely finds you taking work seriously incredibly hot

wants to practice the dance as much as possible

and is constantly offering suggestions that would make the two of you be dancing closer to each other

"maybe i should grab her hip here and guide her through the turn"

"jeno you haven't let go of her once this entire routine"

"so?"

would love to hear your input as well and probably thinks your ideas are all brilliant

he just thinks that you're brilliant

Donghyuck:

he would want to be involved in the whole process

from the very first step with writing it all the way through and he wanted you to be just as involved as him

he loves having a project that he can put his whole heart into

and you are his whole heart so working on this with you would be a dream come true

this would definitely be the project he was most proud of

would love that the two of you could be honest with each other about how the project was going

he would listen to you with such attentiveness and would truly value everything you had to say

hyuck holds your opinion to the highest standard

like no one else's opinion matters to him more than yours

so he would take your views on this so seriously

and would make sure you knew your voice was heard

he was always ready to fight your corner

Jaemin:

when he got told your groups were doing a collab together he could barely hold back the grin that stretched out across his face

it became his mission to make this time you had together the best practices of your lives

he would bring in a homemade lunch for the two of you

and managed to turn that half an hour break into a date

he would be cheering obnoxiously loudly from the side of the practice room while you danced

he would bring you water to the recording studio

if there's one thing jaemin will always be it's a romantic

having him around would keep you on top of your health as well

there would be no skipping meals and your vitamins would be taken at exactly the right time

jaemin saw to that

as long as you had him around he would never let anything bad happen to you

Chenle:

oh my god he would have campaigned for this to happen for SO LONG

like i cannot put this into words

essentially for the past year every day chenle would ask to do a collab with you

it got to the point where the company gave him the collab just so that he would shut up

literally will talk about it non stop as well

even to you like he's just bouncing off the walls he's so exicted

the first time he sang your pair ballad with you he nearly cried

though he'd never openly admit it

he wasn't sure why it got to him but he just got so overwhelmed with his love for you

tried his hardest to get it together for your first live broadcast

but you were dressed so beautifully and you sang like an angel an he just couldn't believe that you had chosen him

it was hard not to be emotional when he's gotten blessed with you by his side

and he vowed to spend the rest of his life making you feel as loved as you made him feel

Jisung:

would probably be a bit nervous

like he knows you are an idol as well but you haven't worked together before

he doesn't want conflict to arise from this

but he is also really excited

is hoping for it to be centred around dance

purely just because he wants to impress you

is a little nervous when it's revealed to be vocal and dance because he thinks you're a better vocalist than him

but you make sure he knows he has a beautiful voice to listen to

you are such a point of comfort for jisung

if he's ever feeling down or insecure all he needs is to hold onto you and feel you stroke his hair and it's like everything's okay again

doing this collab with you was such a confidence boost that jisung wasn't expecting

you brought out the best side of him no matter what you were doing

and jisung knew nobody could love the way you two loved each other

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moonchild-in-blue · 6 months

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💕 I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you- 💕

#listen. i hate seeing a bunch of phones during gigs. i do #but hq stable recordings are the backbone of society #i was just watching Hypnosis live and oof. amazing #Vesselettes my beloved best friends #the little flairs the guys add?? the vocal runs and harmonies??? mhmrpgfrmg feral #sleep token

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illycanary · 25 days

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What Aang’s Relationship With His Kids Tells Us About His Relationship With Katara

Bumi: “Oh, boo-hoo. Must've been real hard for you, flying around the world with dad, riding elephant-koi all day.”

Tenzin: “Oh, so that's what this is all about.”

Kya: “That's what it's always been about. You think you're some savior who has to carry on dad's legacy.”

Tenzin: “Who else is going to do it?”

Kya: “How about all of us?”

Bumi: “Yeah, we're Aang's kids too.”

The whole problem with this family is, Aang didn’t believe that.

Aang has a long, undeviating track record of never questioning anything he believes about the Air Nomads. Who the hell has a perfect and complete understanding of their society, government, international relations, education system, religion, morality, genetics, and reproduction at age 12? According to Aang? He does.

The entire lynchpin of Aang’s Book 3 arc is all about how Air Nomads are pacifists and cannot ever under any circumstances harm a life. (We’re going to ignore the body count Aang’s already wracked up over the first two seasons for the sake of preserving his feelings because those were soulless NPCs or something.)

And yet Aang never questions this…

Monk Gyatso’s bones surrounded by a pile of Fire Nation soldier bones. The picture doesn’t fit Aang’s image of Air Nomad peace and harmony, so he ignores it entirely. It NEVER comes up despite its overwhelming relevance to Aang’s internal conflict and the sorts of advice he seeks from authority figures in the third season (despite Monk Gyatso being the penultimate authority figure in Aang’s life).

Another thing Aang never questions?

There’s no such thing as a non-airbending Air Nomad. They’re just all born that spiritual. And spirituality is the golden key that unlocks bending. (Because Bryke said so.)

Despite Guru Pathik not being a bender. Despite the fact that Zhao, literal spirit murderer, is one. Despite Toph—the most un-spiritual, cynical, feet-on-the-ground-head-nowhere-near-the-clouds member of Aang’s friend group—being the most powerful bender of the lot. Despite Hama being a waterbender equal to none but Katara while completely cut off from her culture and turning her back on everything we believe about water bending’s inherent ties to community, connectedness, and love (Iroh’s words). Despite Azula mastering the god-tier lightning technique BECAUSE she’s practically dead inside and values life least of all things. Despite the fact that Princess Yue has the literal MOON SPIRIT THAT IS THE SOURCE OF ALL WATERBENDING living inside her, and yet she still somehow manages to not be a bender.

Despite the fact that Air Nomads roam all over the world, sewing their wilds oats throughout every nation, yet no airbending toddlers ever crop up in Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom preschools.

Despite the fact that non-monogamous societies where men have multiple partners father more children and boost the population faster than in societies that favor “attached” relationships, yet the all-airbending Air Nomads still somehow have the smallest population of any ethnic group in the world.

Despite the fact that Aang’s twin, Ty Lee, is RIGHT. THERE. with her unparalleled aura-seeing, chakra blocking spirituality and her GRAY EYES in a world where color coding is ~totally~ not a thing… *sigh*

But nope. Air Nomad parentage = airbending child. Always.

So when Katara births a child that is… not an airbender? Not any kind of bender at all, in fact. There’s only one logical conclusion (in Aang’s mind).

That is not Aang’s child.

Aang never had a problem traveling with non-airbenders before. He was non-exclusionary by nature. Katara and Toph and Zuko were welcome. Sokka and Suki were welcome. The more, the merrier, in fact. Because Aang loves nothing as much as he loves an adoring audience.

Yet Bumi never travelled with Aang.

Bumi’s as old in this picture as Aang was in the first series. He had an entire decade in which he should have been the most important thing in his parents’ lives. His personality was already more or less formed (not completed, but the groundwork was laid) by the time Tenzin came along. Bumi’s inferiority issues began long before there were any airbending children around to siphon Aang’s attention for training purposes.

Aang and Katara didn’t have another child until Bumi was on the verge of adolescence because Aang was convinced that Katara cheated. And I’m guessing it took Mr. “Let Your Anger Out, And Then Let It Go” about ten years to forgive his wife and give her the chance to get it right. (Which is at least four years longer than he gave her to forgive her mother’s murderer, in case you forgot.)

Acolyte: “Sorry, I thought you were the servants.”

Bumi: “We’re Tenzin’s brother and sister!”

Acolyte: “Avatar Aang had other children? The world is filled with more airbenders?!”

Kya: “We’re not airbenders.”

Acolyte: “Oh… I’m so sorry.”

The Air Acolytes—whose whole identity, purpose, lifestyle, and religion center around every detail of this man's life and beliefs—didn't know Aang had more than one child.

The best case scenario here is that Aang simply pretended his older children didn’t exist because he was ashamed of them and made Katara keep them shut away at all times.

And maybe that could have worked… If Aang and Katara had ever had any privacy in their relationship. But they didn’t.

The Air Acolytes have been following Aang and Katara since the comics. They’ve been there at every step of Aang and Katara’s life together. Observing. Fangirling. Emulating. Diefying. Looking for weaknesses in the relationship because Katara was only his “first girlfriend.”

Yet, somehow, they didn’t know Aang had three children.

I can’t imagine a way for them not to know unless Aang actively told people, “Those aren’t my kids,” and let Katara bear the shame and stigma of having the world believe she was unfaithful.

All because Aang couldn't entertain the idea that he was wrong about some facet of a society he never understood clearly.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla meta #anti kataang

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la-pheacienne · 1 month

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Mystery of "Night begins to descend upon Grantaire" solved (continuing this post)

@everyonewasabird @pilferingapples So because I am insane and couldn't sleep I went through hundreds of pages of the manuscript on Gallica and finally found the text and it's CANON. What Grantaire said with an "indescribable sweetness" was not "let me sleep here", it was "you know I believe in you" (tu sais que je crois en toi) but Hugo wrote it on the margin of the page and so faintly I almost missed it but thankfully I spent 1 hour scanning every centimeter of this page because I'm nuts.

Also if anyone wonders (no one) Grantaire said "you'll see" only once, not twice as some translations show, and here is the proof:

Two remarks:

At first the "you know I believe in you" seemed random to me, because I was not used to it (since my version doesn't have it). Then I realized that ACTUALLY it has to be there. When Enjolras says "you're incapable of believing, of thinking, of wanting, of living and of dying" he's referring to two things Grantaire said : that he believes in him, and that he's willing to die there, for him. "Believing", and "dying" are the beginning and the end of his phrase. He's wrong in both, as we know. Grantaire is capable of believing (in Enjolras) and of dying in the barricade. The text has a perfect harmony this way.

What is driving me absolutely crazy is that Hugo added probably the two most meaningful exchanges E x R had on the margin as an afterthought, as a correction, and I'm talking about "you know I believe in you" and "you'll see". Like he wrote the draft and then was like, that's mid. I'm not going for mid, let me throw a phrase there to give it an extra oomph that will make tumblr girlies lose their minds and their sleep 200 years later. You don't get it, he was working for us. First incident of fanservice recorded in the history of human kind - and the editors MISSED IT. CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR

#lm 4.12.3 #les miserables #the brick #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #victor hugo #i mean of course it wasn't fanservice it had an actual thematic significance and was essential for their arc etc etc BUT ALSO #he must have known the effect these words would have on people

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s-4pphics · 1 year

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scent of the pine. 1 (e.w.)

omg i finally wrote something who woulda thought gosh golly damn hey yall whos gay around here

wc;cw: 9.6k mmmm, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, so many time skips and theyre not even done yet omg, queer duh, all ocs r black coded<3, mentions of underage smoking/drinking(nics n weed obv), partying, making out, blood(it’s fake but still), all tlou kids appear including *gasp* cat, lots of ocs theyre gonna thrive in later chaps, depression, anxiety, disassociation, crack(it’s not all bad yall laugh a little!!), mentions of therapy, uh yeah just alot of sad and drama, smut in later chaps🤭🤭

You have always been surrounded by music.

When you were born, your mother quieted your screams with song, holding you close to her chest and gently whispering words of affection and love into your ears while your three-year-old sister jumped in celebration for new life.

When you were two, your mother gave you your first ever violin toy. Your sister had taken a large interest in the flute at age four, saying that the whistling noises sounded like birdies! and she wanted to give you the same exposure. It could have been sheer luck or her maternal instincts, but you quickly became attached to it. It was small and inexpensive and hardly sounded like a violin, but its bright lights and animated face near the scratched, poorly painted F-holes entranced you like no other. You couldn’t stop fiddling with the red, blue, and green buttons across the body, and every time it played the same robotic instrumental, you waved your arms around with the biggest smile on your face, like you could fly away from elation. Your sister would sometimes jump in and blow into her months old pink recorder while the instrumental played from your toy, imagining you were a part of a world-renowned orchestra: the musical harmony between the two of you brought your mother joy.

When you turned three, your mom and sister invited over some of her friends to help make cupcakes topped with musical notes for your special day. You sat on the couch with your favorite toy in hand as the instrumental played, jumping up and down on the cushion from pure excitement. Your sister’s friends kept you entertained while your mother prepared dinner, banging together pots and pans with wooden spoons and dancing, imagining them as drums. All four of them made you laugh with jokes, sang to you—one of them even played a song on one of her miniature, bright green guitars— and allowed you to experience some of the joys of life through symphonic expression.

When you were four, your mother noticed differences in your behavior. She noted that you and your sister were polar opposites: she was outspoken, unapologetic, and animated, while you were shy, polite, and timid. You hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and though no one around you judged you for it, your mother often wondered what went on in your head. Despite your lack of communication, she never doubted the fire inside you: she saw it in your eyes whenever you watched footage of some of the most famous names in the classical world play their hearts out. When you were five, she signed you up for violin lessons.

When your big sister turned eight, she and her friends' released screams of excitement when she revealed her very first flute. She jumped in excitement, —mostly out of relief that she wouldn't have to berate you and your mom with the shrilling bleats of her old, pink recorder— shrieking about how she and her friends should start a band as soon as possible.“How the hell would a trumpet player fit in a rock band, you idiot?” You remembered your sister's best friend, Ellie, saying quietly so your mother wouldn’t hear from the kitchen, earning a playful shove from Jesse, your next-door neighbor. The dark-haired girl, Dina—who lived two houses down and had a large obsession with slapping her mother’s keyboard in the middle of the night—bursted into a fit of giggles while pointing at the young boy, making him blush.

You were always very observant of your sister's friends. You didn’t have many opportunities to make some of your own due to your incessant need to isolate, so you managed with what you had. They intrigued you: they were loud, lively, and exuberant. They never shied away from demonstrating their talents to you or your mom, especially the green-eyed, auburn-haired girl that almost always had her father’s black acoustic guitar strapped around her small frame on the three-block walk to your house. You remembered when she brought the guitar to school to play for the other students during lunch time, which landed her in after-school detention after she scolded one of her teachers for confiscating it, claiming that they were “limiting creative expression” and telling them to “screw themselves”.

When Ellie’s father, Joel, came to pick up your sister's friends from her party, Ellie jokingly pinched your side and threw you a quick see ya, squirt! while her and her two friends laughed and waved their way out of your front door. Your face ran hot as you watched them—her—leave. You didn’t get to reply before they ran down your porch in a heap of giggles. Watch the road, nuggets! I don’t have life insurance! You remembered Joel calling out to them as they sprinted across the street.

When you turned eight years old, your mother gave you your very first authentic violin and bow, the black case wrapped in glittery, floral paper. As usual, your sister and her friends grabbed and shook your shoulders out of excitement and anticipation of seeing you play since they never have, which you politely declined. You have always shied away from revealing your natural talent due to your scalding fear of embarrassment, resulting in only your mother and violin teacher knowing your abilities. You blushed as your sister, Jesse, and Dina pressed on, pleading that you play at least a couple of chords for them, causing Ellie to playfully come to your defense with a high-spirited squeal of she’s shy, you heathens! leave her be before I kick all your asses!

From that moment on, you always looked up to Ellie and her comfortability with herself. You never thought that you would meet someone more confident than your sister, but Ellie had her beat for miles. Regardless of where she was or what she did, she moved with a confidence that you only dreamt of having at that age. You wanted so desperately to mimic her, but that annoying voice of doubt never failed to remind you of your place. You made sure your light was dimmed, always.

When your sister was twelve, she began to take music very seriously. She went from two flute sessions a week to five, only to return home and play some more. She’d even performed in some of her school's recitals (she vomited across the stage during her first performance, but a victory is a victory). You watched your mother scold her about not completing her homework as she stood practicing in the living room while you silently ate your dinner, which led to her half-heartedly completing her assignments with a frown on her face. Over the next year and a half, your sister's scolding started to get more intense as her grades dropped. She was never much of a scholar, but she never let her grades slip under as much as they had then. Although her music teacher was sending her home with nothing but praises after every lesson, your mom often received letters in the mail from your sister's school saying that her performance was concerning. You’d heard your mother reprimand her countless times, saying you’re not going to survive high school like this! look at what you’re doing! while your sister claimed I know exactly what I’m doing, I want to be better! I’m following my dreams! why aren’t you proud of me? They had exchanged more harsh words until you heard your sister's door slam shut and your mothers silently resigned to her room in defeat.

You heard your sister’s cries through your shared wall for a while, until a gentle voice—Ellie’s, you recognized—consoled her and told her to calm down until her whimpers silenced. You knew she had a habit of secretly climbing up into your sister's window to hang out when your mom didn’t allow company over, but you didn’t know that she also always showed up when your sister needed another source of comfort. You slowly got up and left your room, silently walking down the hall until you reached your sister's door. You wanted to knock and see if she was okay, but before you could do so, the door opened and out walked Ellie, clad in her usual dark jeans and T-shirt, bracelets covering her wrists in mass, and dirty, scuffed chucks and socks in hand. She jumped slightly when she witnessed someone waiting behind the door, but instantly relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey, squirt. Why are you creepin’ behind the door like that?” She whispered with a small chuckle, gently shutting your sister’s door.

“Sorry.” You whispered back. “I heard her crying and I wanted to check on her. How is she?”

“She’ll be fine. She got a headache and fell asleep. I was just tucking her in, don’t worry.” She gently said, looking down at you. “I was just about to head out. Mind lockin’ the front door for me?”

“Why don’t you just leave out the window again?”

She snorted before she asked, “Dude, do you know how hard it is to climb down that rickety ass ladder you guys have outside? I almost broke my neck climbing down that thing in that storm last month.”

You quietly laughed alongside her while she bent down to put her socks back on. “What are you doing up anyway? It’s late and you have class tomorrow.”

“So do you.” You said, raising an accusatory brow at her. “Plus, I'm not tired, I’m bored.”

“I’m not tired”, she said mockingly. “What do you wanna do right now?”

“Don’t you have to be home soon?”

She waited a second before a mischievous smirk creeped on her face, “Yeah, but who cares. C’mon.”

She grabbed your wrist before quickly pulling you back into your room and gently shutting the door behind you. She took note of your room: pink and purple everything. Your walls were drenched in white and pink stripes with giant, iridescent, butterfly stickers, your bedspread had small specks of glitter sprinkled across it, which shimmered from your pink and green fairy lamp. You had a small tv propped up on your dresser, which was covered in fairy and Disney princess stickers, at the front of your room. She couldn’t help but snicker at the mountain of plushies that crowded your bed and nightstand. However, she halted when she noticed a small glass case that held two violins with their bows. She recognized the first one: a gift from your mother on your eighth birthday that had lost some shine, and another, much glossier and more tuned than the latter. It looked barely used. A small burst of joy exploded in her chest at the thought of you playing even though she had never seen it. She was happy to know that your love for music still lived.

“Your room’s cute, dude, it’s making my skin crawl like crazy, holy fuck,” she said with a soft laugh, leaning back against your door.

“Don’t make fun of me, you freakin' metalhead! It’s pretty in here and I like it,” you said begrudgingly, “Your room's scary!”

She let out a loud laugh before she acknowledged your glass-guarded instruments, “You still play?”

She nodded towards your protected instruments. You nodded from your bed and excitedly said, “Yeah, come sit! I never had a slumber party before!”

You spent the night quietly watching Peter Pan, gossiping about how in love you were with him and how you wished you could fly. Ellie silently watched you talk with curious, wide eyes as you went on tangent after tangent. You talked about movies you loved and boys you liked (which she playfully gagged at), and music you liked to listen to when you were sad, and she internalized all of it. She had never seen this side of you before, but she was so intrigued that she didn’t notice her own intensity in her own eyes. You just kept going and going before you abruptly stopped, the brightness in your eyes dimming slightly as you looked at her.

“Sorry for talking a lot,” you said, embarrassed. “Am I annoying?”

“‘Course not, squirt,” she said confused, but immediately. “Why the hell would you think that?”

You didn’t say anything, but her affirmation reignited the fire in your eyes as your rambles started up again. She let you talk until you sloppily fell asleep across your pillows and plushies, tv still quietly playing in the background. She gently got up from her position, careful not to wake you, pulled your blankets over your frame, and stealthily left through your sister’s window. She made her way back home, envisioning you playing your violin for her one day.

Ellie became the person that you turned to whenever you needed reassurance. She’d never failed at making you feel acknowledged and seen and heard.

Age thirteen was the first time you anticipated the summer. Middle school had been a very disconnected period for you, and though many of your peers had experienced a sense of helplessness through these trine times of adolescence, yours was slowly overtaking your ability to feel excitement for anything. You had become so detached to the world around you and that annoying, discouraging voice had only spurred on your distance. This dark state that you entered caused you to separate from everyone, including your own family. Your last day of eighth grade was the giddiest you had felt in a long time, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your place of solitude—home.

Your sister entered her element in high school. Much to your mother’s delight, she was able to find a balance between fulfilling her dreams as a musical prodigy while staying afloat academically.

You had been attending your violin lessons for eight years, and though you were blessed with your musical perception, —according to your teacher—you never played in front of an audience. Though your teacher was eager to put you in the children’s orchestra that he trained, your mother did not want to push you into something you weren’t ready for, so she'd always decline politely.

In July, Dina invited you and your sister over to a pool party. Her parents were going to be out for the weekend, and she thought that it’d be the perfect time to be reckless. When you and your sister walked in with your towels and snacks in hand, she greeted you both with an excited squeal, beckoning you both to the backyard. Ellie, Dina’s older sister, Talia, and a few older girls that you didn’t recognize, were already in the water, splashing and laughing.

“Look who just arrived, cunts! My babies, my angels, the lights of my life— “

“Ay, shut the fuck up!” the blonde-haired girl yelled with a grin, causing Dina to flip her off and the others to laugh.

You modestly held your folded towel in your hand, smiling at their interaction. Your sister had already discarded her towel, shorts, and flip flops on a random beach chair before she cannonballed into the pool, causing everyone to swear and splash her. Dina then jumped in right behind her with a shout. They all blended so well, and you curled into yourself. Maybe you should go—

“Get over here, squirt! It’s hot as fuck out here,” Ellie shouted out with a smile, before a girl in a black bikini playfully jumped on her back, planting a light kiss on her shoulder. Something unfamiliar panged in your chest, but you nodded and slipped off your flip flops before making your way over to the pool stairs, slowly submerging yourself into the water.

“You’re still calling her squirt like she’s four, cut it out already,” Dina called out with a snort before she addressed you.

“I’m not sure if your sister ever mentioned anything about these losers but they’re some friends from school, that’s Cat, Abby, and Riley,” she said and pointed them out, “and they’re really fucking annoying—

“Shut the hell up before I drown you,” said Abby with a straight face.

“Yeah, keep talking to me like that— “

“ANYWAYS,” Ellie interrupted, “We missed you kid, where ya been?”

“Just at home, nothing crazy. I’m glad to finally be out, though.” I think I’m depressed, please don’t notice.

“She’s lying, I nearly had to drag her ass outta bed by her feet to detangle her hair this morning,” your sister corrected with an over dramatic eye roll.

“I’m just tired,” you said meekly. “School was hard these past two weeks.”

“I bet it was! Literally no one ever talks about how crazy middle school is! I damn near backflipped off the stage at our promotion,” Riley commented with a head shake, making Abby aggressively nod her head in agreement.

As the side conversations continued, your attention was overtaken by Ellie, who had moved to the opposite side of the pool to whisper something into the short-haired girl’s—Cat, who hasn’t acknowledged you yet—ear, which made her giggle and half-heartedly push Ellie away. The green-eyed girl didn’t budge, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist, pulling her closer and, much to your surprise, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Cat had a tight grip on Ellie’s olive-green rash guard as she held her and shared soft whispers that you wished you heard. Was that her girlfriend? you thought. You knew Ellie liked girls due to her almost two-year long crush on Riley, which she confided in you and your sister about when she was fourteen. She had wildly knocked on your sister’s window in the middle of the night with a tear-stained face, frantically pacing and claiming that something was wrong with her.

Why the fuck do I want to kiss her and hold her hand whenever I see her?

This is bad, this is really really bad, guys, something’s wrong!

What do I do, how do I stop this!

You had never seen her so defeated, and her wet cheeks and scared eyes made your chest hurt with a sharp stab. Your sister had pulled her into a tight hug and quietly hummed a tune in her ear to soothe her sobs, while you gently rubbed her back and told her that she was going to be okay. She ended up staying the night, dozing off while holding one of your sister’s stuffed animals close to her chest while the two of you held her from both sides. You and your sister hadn’t slept in the same bed since she was six.

As the party slowly died down and Talia, who snuck away to her room much earlier, beckoned everyone inside with a get outta the pool you freaks! you’re gonna prune! from the back door, you all resigned inside to rinse off and change clothes before heading to the living room to watch a scary movie. You silently smacked on your sour gummy worms on the lone lounge chair as you watched Abby, Riley, and your sister cower behind pillows to block the screen while Dina snored loudly, while Cat and Ellie snuggled on a lounge chair. She had her chin propped up on the dark-haired girl’s head to see the screen while she rubbed her back.

As the film progressed, you saw the couple making small movements out of the corner of your eye. Cat began to subtly plant soft kisses on her cheek, neck, and shoulder, causing the auburn-haired girl to smirk, moving her head to the side to give her more access. You saw Ellie pull her girlfriend’s shirt up slightly, rubbing the exposed skin on her hip. You seemed to be the only one who noticed as the girls on the other couch squealed at another jump scare. Ellie and her girlfriend shared a more intense kiss, and you saw a glistening tongue poke out. That made you avert your gaze and you blushed, embarrassed that you were catching such an intimate moment. You quickly got up with a quick excuse of I gotta pee, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Your face was boiling, and your heart pounded in your chest as you soaked your hands with icy water before wiping them down your face, that voice in the back of your head asking what the fuck your problem was.

You slowly looked up at your reflection in the mirror to center yourself, but your vision started to blur, and hands began to shake. You tried to take deep breaths; you tried you tried you tried but the air left your lungs as quickly as it entered.

Breathe, breathe breathebreathebreathe—

You jumped at the soft knock on the bathroom door, and you ripped it open without hesitation, revealing a concerned Ellie, Dina, and sibling, reaching out and asking if you were okay. How long were you there? You couldn’t speak or breathe or see so you swiftly shook your head no nonono—

Ellie and your sister guided you back to the living room and onto the couch. Ellie squatted down to your eye level, grabbing your face in her warm hands while your sister rubbed your back and Dina held your hand. The other girls’ expressions had been pulled down in concern as they watched your smaller frame tremble.

“Hey squirt, can you do me a favor? Can you breathe with me?”

“Cmon, deep breath in and hold it with me, follow me okay?” Ellie instructed. Your mimicked breaths were choked and broken, but she nodded her head at you in encouragement anyway, gently whispering a that’s it every time you shakily exhaled.

All the girls remained silent but attentive, allowing Ellie to control the situation. Riley had even gone to the kitchen to snag you a glass of water that she set on the coffee table. You tried to match Ellie’s breaths with yours, holding, in and out, holding, in and out, and you eventually calmed down. There was silence for a few minutes before Dina spoke.

“How do you feel, hun? You okay to talk now?” she asked softly while gently caressing your hand. You didn’t know how to answer, so you meekly nodded your head yes.

“Tell us what’s been going on with you. You’ve been so… MIA lately,” your friend noted, cringing slightly at her choice of words.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know what… what’s happening to me—

“Shh, it’s alright, we’re gonna handle it, just try to relax for now. We’re leaving in a little, anyway,” your sister comforted. You felt Ellie’s calloused fingers gently rub your knee soothingly. You just wanted to lay down.

After some more hugs and forehead smooches from Dina, you and your sister packed up your things and headed home. You weren’t aware, but Ellie met your sister’s eyes with an intense gaze, quietly instructing her before you both left, (“You need to watch her tonight, do you understand? You watch her until tomorrow and you tell your mom what happened the second you get a chance”) which she immediately agreed to.

Your sister had held your hand tightly as you both made your way to your front porch. Your sister pulled out her semiquaver keychain, unlocking the door and quietly trudged inside. Your home was dark, meaning that your mother had already been in bed. Your sister hadn’t released the tight grip of your hand the entire trek upstairs. She opened her bedroom door, silently pulling you inside and made her way over to her dresser. She gave you a giant T-shirt to change into as she put her bonnet on. You both brushed your teeth and washed your face before heading over to her bed. You laid down facing each other, tucked under the blankets. You both looked at each other in silence, but she broke it.

“I want you to tell me why that happened, no bullshit.”

You didn’t reply. You were tired.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” She pressed on. You noted the desperation in her eyes. Your heart was hurting.

Silence.

Her eyes shut in defeat before she turned her back to you. Your eyes burned into the worn shirt she wore. Just say it, the voice in your head screamed at you, tell her how worthless you are!

Silence.

And then an exhale.

“I think I need to talk to someone.”

You did not expect the rest of your summer to be filled with therapy sessions and journal entries. When your sister told your mother about the events of that night, much to your dismay, she immediately made some phone calls and scheduled sessions twice a week. You had to pause your violin sessions for a few weeks, and you missed it, but you knew this was more important. Your mother expressed her remorse for not paying closer attention to your behavior. Your distance, your lack of energy, your reluctance to speak, your silence—God, your silence. You were screaming without a word. She felt that she’d failed you, and she wanted to do as much as she could to reignite that light in your eyes.

You hadn’t looked forward to these meetings in the beginning, but you soon grew to like your therapist. Even though your feelings were confusing and unfamiliar to you, she was in no rush to get answers out of you. She allowed you to speak at your own pace and listened to every minor detail. She concluded that your self-doubt has bubbled over into anxiety: she recommended you journaling. She wanted you to document one thing that you loved about yourself everyday (“It can be anything: appearance, personality, talents. Whatever you wish. Just make sure you mean it”).

And so, you did.

The next month flew by, the last bits of summer slowly easing into fall, and you were going to start your first year of high school. Your mother and sister had noticed a slight change in your behavior during your break: you started eating dinner with them instead of in your room, asked how their day went, what their week looked like. Your sister would ramble about how stressed she was for her last year but also how excited she was to perform with the school’s orchestra at the December recital and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you rambled back. Your mother had listened from the kitchen as you two gossiped, argued, and even planned to play music together in the future. Her heart swelled. You also started hanging out with Dina, Ellie, Jesse, and your sister a lot more: one night, you followed them back to Joel and Ellie’s garage to watch them freestyle on some of his used instruments. Jesse, who babbled to you about his new love for drumming, demonstrated some techniques he had adapted from Joel on his old drum set while your sister nodded her head along to the beats he made. Dina was already improvising on their brand new sixty-one key keyboard, headphones on to tune out the noise the four of you were making. Ellie, who had stepped away to answer her girlfriend’s call, had her father’s bright green, electric bullet mustang strapped around her chest. She noticed you staring and sent you a thumbs up, you giving one back. She sent you a wink and a smile before turning away to continue her conversation. Your heartbeat increased.

Ellie had become much more attentive after that night at the party. She had always been protective of you, but her desire to talk to you increased tenfold. She would text you fried memes in the middle of the night or leave voice memos about how her dad was helping her customize his old electric guitar. She chattered about wanting to record the entire process for all of you to see.

i feel like if i help my dad with anything he’ll wring my neck :| he’s so particular abt instruments it’s annoying

that sucks :( but at least he cares!! he’s just passionate and wants u to play the best.

he gave it to ME tho. the guitar is mine now!! i should have some input on how it looks be on my side!!! >:/

i am!! just be patient with him. ur gonna be shredding w it soon enough :D

And she also never failed to check in on you for more serious matters, either. She never pressed for information, not wanting to overstep, but she always ensured that you had a safe space to discuss anything you wanted with her. After some of your meetings, you would already have a text from her asking how your session went and what you learned. You would send her voice memos about some of your therapist’s pointers about communication and how you were trying to improve that skill for your family, especially your mom. She also provided some advice about what helped her regain her footing in conversation, joking that no one could ever get me to shut the hell up at the end of the day! that’s for damn sure.

Ellie wasn’t aware, but you started writing about her in your journal, as well. Small, little excerpts of what you liked about her and how she made you feel. How caring she was. How she made your heart beat fast whenever she was around. How strong she felt when she pulled you in for a tight hug while whispering about how she missed you—

Oh.

You were helpless… and gay.

It was late into November. You were fourteen and elated.

Not only had you slowly eased back into music, but you had friends. That you made on your own. You knew that your sister and her friends didn’t want to drag you along everywhere they went, both on and off campus, so you began to explore other paths by yourself. Swiftly after the school year started, you joined the campus orchestra, and while you were terrified, you were excited. Impassioned. Hopeful.

There were all types of groups that passed through the practice room. Students of all grades hung out, ate, and studied there: you were shocked at the number of students that lounged in the designated nerd hotspot during their free time. This is nothing like the movies, you had thought. You noted that the room was not as busy on Thursdays during lunch, and you thought it would be a good time to tune out the outside world and throw yourself into music again. One Thursday, you walked in on a group of juniors whispering and giggling about something you couldn’t hear. You looked around and noticed one of the girls from your biology class—Arya, you remembered—pushed off into a corner by herself, on her knees and hurriedly shoving her things into her backpack. She looked upset.

She looked sad.

The juniors had been talking about her.

You had your violin case and lunch in hand as you slowly made your way past the juniors and in front of her. You noticed her tear-stained cheeks shining under the white light of the room as you got closer. You softly greeted her, making her jump and eyes harden.

“Hey, Arya, you alright?” You whispered, squatting down to her level.

“What do you think,” She whispered back harshly, continuing to shove her books into her pack. “Does it look like I’m alright? If you’re here to laugh you can honestly fuck off.”

You’d flinched at her tone but pressed on. “I didn’t walk all the way here to laugh at you. Let's go somewhere else, we can eat together, if you want!”

You could tell she had questioned your enthusiasm. She looked at you skeptically before looking behind you, at the juniors, and then back at you. You didn’t budge. She slowly rose to her feet, swung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbed her instrument case from the floor—hm, clarinet— and softly nodded. You both leaving caused the juniors to laugh harder.

You didn’t care.

You and Arya have done everything together since that day. She was eager to introduce you to her two friends, Starr and Kris, who you clicked with immediately. The second they sat you down, they raged about how much they hated the writers of Vampire Diaries due to how they treated Kat Graham, how they joked about hating talented people like you and Arya, what they wanted their future weddings to look like (Kris and her Pinterest boards), and you laughed.

You were calm.

You were happy.

Your first year of high school flew by.

Your sister earned her flute solo at the December recital, earning a standing ovation from the audience of students and parents. You and your mother screamed the loudest for her.

At Dina’s eighteenth birthday party, you, Ellie, and your sister walked in on her and Jesse tonguing each other down in the kitchen. Ellie let out a hardy laugh of are you fuckers serious! right in front of my salad? while your sister fell to the floor in hysterics. You had shielded your eyes.

April came around and so did prom season. Your sister said that she had been anticipating the event since seventh grade and you, your mom, and Dina were dragged along to her fitting. She had texted Ellie to come, but she swiftly declined, claiming that she couldn’t hide my fat dick in a dress! love you tho! buy me an elf bar? :3

You missed her so much.

On the evening of prom, your sister, Dina, Jesse, and Ellie all pitched in to rent a limo. Your sister, gorgeous as always, was draped in a strapless, floral gown that cinched her waist and bloomed at her hips and her twists were pinned up to show her neckline and back. Dina wore a flowy, black dress with a leg slit. Ellie and Jesse were dressed to a T in classic black suits, him in loafers and her in beat up Vans with her usual messy, low bun.

Your parents had all met at Joel’s house for pictures and semi-alcoholic drinks. You were touching up your sister’s makeup at Ellie’s desk in her room when you felt too familiar hands pinch your sides with a soft, hey squirt. You jumped, almost mussing up your sister’s liner, causing her to kick the hell out of Ellie’s calf. She feigned an ache before hitting her mint elf bar, blowing it away from both of your faces.

“Don’t fucking play with me right now bitch, I mean it, this is serious business,” your sister had said to her.

“Oh shut the hell up, it’s three hours of musty people dancing, it’s not that serious,” Ellie said before turning to you, “Check your sister, dude.”

“El, please shut up,” you said to her. “Just hold still, I'm almost done, god you’re both annoying!”

You worked as quickly as you could, slightly smudging the liner on her waterline until you were satisfied, “…aaaand done. Tell me how it looks right quick.”

She inspected her appearance, pressing on her baby hairs before turning and giving you a fat smooch, “Thank you baby! It’s perfect, now move, I gotta piss before we go.”

Your sister jumped up from Ellie’s chair, holding her dress up while flipping her off and lightly sprinting down the hall to the bathroom, which left you both giggling.

A bored Ellie had made her way over to her bed while you worked, laid out across it, silently puffing on her nic before saying, “I don’t know how you deal with her sometimes.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you replied, smiling. “Where’s Cat?”

“Somewhere being annoying. We had an argument last night.”

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

She sat up before shrugging, beckoning you to sit next to her in the bed, “You’re good. She felt a way about my promposal. She went off about me not putting that much effort into the sign I made and waiting until the last minute to ask. It was petty.”

You snorted with a head shake as you watched her breathe menthol out her nose.

“Don’t laugh at my shortcomings! Wait ‘til you get a boyfriend, he’s gonna forget about prom too! It’s dumb.”

You froze. Boyfriend. Boyfriend? You laughed sheepishly with another shake of your head. She noticed your reaction before you could even reply. She smirked in acknowledgement.

“… or partner. Your partner might forget.” She quietly corrected with a sly grin.

“If you say anything I’ll strangle you and burn your corpse.”

“Oh my fucking god, did you forget that I lived in the closet for almost five years straight?! You’re fine.”

She took another puff before asking, “Anybody steal your heart yet?”

“Please be serious, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. How do you even talk to girls without dying?” You said with a pout.

She almost fell over as she giggled. “You talk to girls like you talk to everyone else, you’re gonna charm them regardless. Trust me.”

You felt your face heat up at the subtle compliment, but you gave her an eye roll and light shove before your sister came trucking down the hallway with her heels in hand. She shrieked out a limo’s here! before flying down the stairs. Ellie took one more long puff of her pale green vape before tucking it into her jacket pocket, wrapping her arms around your smaller frame as she guided you downstairs.

She smelled like mint menthol and pine trees. You loved how she smelled.

Summer came, and you’d fully accepted your big, fat crush on Ellie.

Your journal had been riddled with doodles of her name surrounded by hearts and sparkles, written words of affection through poetry, more hearts and sparkles. You couldn’t stop thinking about her: everything that she said, everything she did, did something to you. But you didn’t know that the fluttering in your chest whenever she was around would be short lived.

Your sister had spent her eighteenth birthday at Cat’s family lake house. As much as you wanted to be a fly on the wall and watch your sister go crazy, you had to settle with viewing her private story from your warm bed on Friday night. It was a mess: she had posted multiple snaps of Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and herself taking shot after shot, chug after chug, until she posted a photo of Jesse’s head hanging out of a second story window with Dina’s hand on his back and Ellie cheesing wide with her two thumbs up, nic in hand. Her next snap, however, made your smile drop from your face.

The footage was a close—too close—up shot of Ellie and Cat making out against the wall. Ellie had her girlfriend trapped between her and the wood, both hands cradling her face as she dominated the kiss. She was grinding her hips up to meet the dark-haired girl’s, pressing her body further into the wall. Ellie then dropped her hands to her girlfriend’s hips, grabbing her short dress in her larger hands to pull her even closer. You barely noticed due to the shakiness of the camera, but you saw the pink glisten of your good friend's tongue swiping up into her girl's mouth before the snap ended.

You'd nearly dropped your phone on your face.

The clip had been hilarious out of context: the loud booming of clap clap clap that ass bitch, shake that cameltoe, lemme see them pussy lips! with your sister screaming and shaking like crazy in the background, Jesse behind the couple hurling his guts out of a window, and his concerned girlfriend pouting with a turquoise bong and lighter in her hand. Anyone would’ve found it comedic gold, but you?

Your stomach had twisted uncomfortably, not only from jealousy, but from a burning, swirling heat.

You dropped your phone on your bed and sat up as angry tears blurred your vision. You knew her and her girlfriend had been on and off for a while now, so why did it affect you so deeply to see them together? How stupid could you be? you thought she wanted you after all this time? a voice that you hadn’t heard in a while said to you. You’d recognized that tremor in your hands and pick-up of your heart, and you knew that you couldn’t be alone tonight. You sent a quick SOS text to your friends in the group chat, desperately seeking comfort. Arya, ever the angel, was the first to respond with a quick and simple omw rn, stealing her brother’s car keys to pick up Kris and Starr and flew straight to your house.

The girls held you while you sobbed, gently shushing you and encouraging you to take deep breaths.

Breathe with me, squirt, there ya go.

You wished that voice didn’t sound so much like hers.

Your sister and her friends had returned home Sunday night, hungover and exhausted like hell. You hadn’t moved from your bed all weekend, and you hadn’t wanted to get up to help her drag her bags in. You immediately recognized the laughter that came from downstairs, and your heart shook painfully in your chest. Their voices were muffled due to your door being shut, but you heard a cheerful I’ll go get her leave your sister’s mouth before the sound of her rushed footsteps flooded the quiet hallway.

You quickly flipped over so your back faced the door, your blanket thrown over your body as you pretended to sleep.

You heard your door open, some shuffling, before it was gently shut again. You listened to your sister shuffle back downstairs and you heard a faint she’s slumped…. tomorrow or something…

Their chatter and laughter continued into the night while you moped in your room. Your phone had pinged around eleven, a pop-up of sleep well, squirt:3 on your home screen.

You turned your phone off and threw it on your nightstand, shutting your eyes, praying for sleep to come.

You dreamt of green and pine trees.

You had begun your sophomore year, and your friends had been a good distraction from the inner turmoil of your heart. During the last bits of your vacation, Ellie had been texting you non-stop, eager to play you the completed version of a song she’d been working on for the past five months. She’d even finished customizing her father’s passed down electric guitar: you only knew because you frequently checked her Instagram, despite the ache you felt in your chest when you saw the posts of her and her girlfriend doing cute couple shit. Her guitar had been airbrushed raven black with silver strings, and a detailed white and green skull that she painted on the body. She’d sent you and your sister the entire video of her creation as promised, but you'd only replied with a dry thumbs up emoji. Her suspicions were correct: something serious was going on with you.

After your sister’s birthday weekend in July, Ellie texted you multiple times to come help her and Dina mix a song and watch movies, but you politely declined saying that you were busy and maybe another time :)! It technically wasn’t a lie: your sister came to your defense when she asked where you were, saying that your trigonometry grade had dropped significantly after your first test, and you were desperate to get it up before your mother noticed. She had accepted that excuse for the first two weeks, but after your sixth reply of busy :( rain check? she got agitated.

She started pressing your sister about your attitude after the first month without your knowledge, but she swiftly got brushed off with a dude, she's studying at her friend's house, can you relax and pack this bowl for me please?

Ellie laid in her bed after her hotbox with her friends, confused as to why you were acting so stiff with her so suddenly. Whenever she came over to your house, you locked yourself in your room and didn’t come out to greet her for whatever reason. She had been this close to marching to your house and kicking your bedroom door down herself before she received a notification that you had updated your private story. She clicked it, and played a video of one of your friends with a flyswatter in hand yelling about how she was a world-renowned mosquito killer until the bug started flying around the unfamiliar room. Multiple shrieks, including yours, were heard before the video abruptly ended.

Ellie swiped up on your story with a quick LOOOOOOL, but she wasn’t laughing. I guess she really was busy doing something, she thought. She felt bad for assuming that you had been purposefully avoiding her, but she was not used to you being unavailable. She was a clingy high, sue her.

She clicked her phone off and hoped she would see you soon.

Ellie’s eighteenth birthday had been two weeks away.

Her birthday never felt like her own; Her dad had always made a big deal about the celebration. He spent hours blowing up balloons for her eleventh, baking cupcakes(even though he nearly burned their entire house down) for her fourteenth, and bragged to the cashier at the vinyl shop about how much of an old soul his baby girl was(“Oh this isn’t for me, my daughter is obsessed with the oldies, I really rubbed off on her, she’s turning sixteen tomorrow and I wanna surprise her!”). She’d never complained, though. She’d never say, but she loved seeing him happy more than anything in the world.

However, her attitude towards her eighteenth birthday had been different. She was eager to celebrate her transition into adulthood with the people she loved the most. She knew that she wanted a slasher themed party with blood and gore everywhere. Her inner horror movie fan had been gasping for water for years, and she was finally going to quench her thirst.

Call her Jason.

You and your sister were arguing about who would dress up as Scream.

Ellie had given your sister an invitation to her big eighteenth, and although you were reluctant about going, your guilt had slowly been gnawing at you. The last message that Ellie sent you was almost three weeks ago: a simple miss u, which you left unread. You thought it was strange how no one acknowledged the tension between the two of you, but you hardly understood it yourself, and you began to feel remorseful.

You owed her an apology, and you planned to do it tonight.

“You’re not dressing up as Scream, bitch, I’m sorry! I got you this Jack the Ripper cape, try it on.” she said as she threw the cape and top hat on your bed.

“Jack the Ripper was racist, fact— “

“Most serial killers are! It’s for aesthetic purposes only! There’s no such thing as a moral compass on Halloween.”

You stared at her with a blank expression, before she resigned, retrieving the fit, “Ugh, fine, go as one of the most iconic slashers in film history, see if I give a damn.”

“Waaaaaa, you mad.” You said with a laugh.

She yelled back a DUH! as she marched down the hall and into the bathroom to change. Your mom wasn’t supportive of the slasher costume party, but she stood no chance against your sister’s persuasive pout and googly eyes.

An hour later, you both were dressed with your gifts in hand as your mother locked the door behind you. You couldn’t begin to imagine the reaction of your neighbors if they peeped out of their windows since Halloween wasn’t for another two weeks. They better not call the fucking cops, that's all I know! your sister shouted out into the quiet neighborhood before you shushed her.

Despite the anxiety in the pit of your stomach, you were eager to see Ellie. You and your sister had pitched in to get custom-made, embroidered guitar pics as her gift: you were hoping that she liked them.

It wasn’t long before you made it onto the Miller residence. Your sister scaled the stairs of their front porch like it was a mountain before banging on the door. It shot open seconds later and revealed Dina, dressed as Freddy Krueger, and Jesse as… Saw.

That mask always made an uncomfortable shiver go down your spine.

They both pulled you and your sister into tight hugs before pulling you further inside to shut the door. The entire downstairs area was lit with red LED lights with faux cobwebs spread across the kitchen and living room walls. You and your sister almost slipped on the fake blood that was splattered all over the wooden floor. There was a giant bowl of tooth-rotting chocolate and a bag of sour gummies on the counter, right next to the multitude of Jason figurines. There was also eerie music playing from Ellie’s speaker near the TV.

You couldn’t believe you had a crush on this loser.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SO FUCKING EXCITED THIS IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN HOLY SHIT— “

Your sister, then Dina, had already been trucking back up the stairs, as they released excited squeals, which only ignited more excited squeals from other voices you barely recognized.

Jesse threw his arms around you as he pulled you inside.

“Bro, where the fuck have you been, I haven’t seen you in ages!” He said, voice muffled under his mask and over the bass from the speakers.

“I know, I’m sorry, school is crazy right now, but I’m here now,” you said with a smile and just as muffled, walking over to the counter to rip open the sour gummy bag. “Are we supposed to be upstairs or something?”

“Nah, Cat and Riley, you remember Riley, are finishing up their costumes. They really went all out with the decor though, I was impressed.”

Your smile fell at the mention of her girlfriend, and you immediately knew that you weren’t going to have fun. You lifted your mask up to shove candied worms into your mouth in attempts to center yourself.

After ten minutes of ravishing the tart candies on the kitchen barstool, you heard quick, heavy footsteps descend the stairs.

You turned to see Ellie, Abby, Dina, Riley, Cat, and your sister descend the stairs, jumping excitedly at your get-up, laughing at your mask. You barely had the chance to stand from your seat and greet everyone before Ellie pushed past them to pull you into a rib-cracking hug. You could hardly move to return the gesture.

“I missed you so much, squirt, holy shit,” she whispered into your ear. You would’ve dropped to your knees if it wasn’t for her grip. “Where have you been, are you doing okay?”

She pulled back slightly to look at your face while both your masks were atop your heads, and you got a good look at her freckled appearance. Her hair was styled in a half bun with multicolored bobby pins holding her bangs back. She was wearing light makeup: her nose and cheeks were gently highlighted, her under eyes had a dark red tinted liner that was smudged with purpose, and she shaved a slit into her eyebrow. She had on a black T-shirt that had been cut and ripped in some parts, black, ripped jeans, and an oversized, dark olive-green flannel. The sleeves were rolled up and you damn near fainted at the subtle lines of an unfinished tattoo peeking out. She also had a plastic version of Jason’s large, bloody machete secured through the belt loop of her jeans.

Holy shit.

Your face was burning hot from how close her face was to yours. “Hi El, I’m fine, happy birthday,” you said quietly, half chewing the worms in your mouth.

You turned to grab her small, wrapped gift box off the counter, softly shoving it into her chest in attempts to distract her from pressing about your whereabouts, and though you noticed her eyebrows pull down in concern, she grabbed the box from your hands before replying a gentle thank you.

Your sister slapped Ellie on the back, breaking up the moment, begging to change the music genre before dragging her to the living room to unlock her phone.

I can’t shake ass to this shit, bitch! Change it now!

I NEED A ONE DANCE, GOT A HENNESSY IN MY HAND—

It was almost eleven. Everyone had migrated to the living room after Ellie finally turned off her summoning demons :0 playlist and allowed your sister to shuffle Spotify’s Top 40 from 2016. After Riley skipped every non-Rihanna song for the first thirty minutes, Abby snatched the phone from her hands and put Drake on. They both were on top of the couch, screaming into wooden spoons like they were microphones while Jesse, Dina, and your sister jokingly popped their backs.

You had fallen back onto a lounge chair to catch your breath from the rigorous jumping you were doing, watching them all sing their lungs out.

You had the opportunity to briefly speak to Abby, who dressed up as a bloody Esther, during Riley’s incessant song-skipping since you never had the chance to genuinely talk to her. She excitedly told you about how she and Riley had been best friends since fifth grade and they both met Ellie in middle school. She cringed when she reminisced on the memory of Ellie giving Riley a glitter-riddled macaroni card for Valentine’s Day in seventh grade. Abby and Riley both graduated a year before your sister and friends did and were sophomores at Boston University, her pursuing her hockey career and Riley studying neuroscience.

The shrilling screams of Dina, Abby, and your sister when Single Ladies blasted through the speakers made you jump in your seat before you got up and made your way into the kitchen for water (and more gummies). Babe you’re not single! you heard Jesse yell to Dina.

You stood at the counter chomping on the sweets, contemplating when would be the best time to speak to Ellie one-on-one. You'd seen her escape onto the back patio, probably to smoke, you thought. You had never been confrontational, and you didn’t want to say something you regretted like hi ellie i’ve been in love with you for years i’m so sorry for ignoring you and iloveyouiloveyou—

Yeah, you’d probably leave with a black eye from her girlfriend if you did that. Just say you're sorry, don’t be selfish, don’t ruin her birthday, don’t ruin her relationship, you thought. now or never.

After your mental pep talk, you took a sip from your glass and shoved a handful of the candies in your mouth as a center. You made your way to the back door and onto the patio. Hot ass mask, you thought before ripping it off your head and tossing it onto the glass patio table.

What you weren’t expecting to see was Cat and Ellie already outside having a conversation, and from where you were standing, it looked intense.

“Why the fuck are you mad about me hugging her when I haven’t seen her in ages?”

And you froze.

“Ellie, if you can’t see that she has the biggest crush on you then you're actually delusional,” Cat spat back at her. “And that wasn’t just a regular hug either! You should’ve seen her face when you grabbed her, it looked like she was about to drop to her knees and propose!”

They couldn’t see you from where you stood and it would’ve been in your best interest to flee before you passed out from embarrassment and loathing, but your feet had been glued to the ground and you were forced to listen to their harsh exchange.

“First off, watch your mouth, I’m not fucking delusional,” the birthday girl heatedly said back. “And no she didn’t! And even if she did it doesn’t fucking matter. She's a fucking kid!”

And you’d felt your heart plummet to your feet.

The remainder of the candies in your mouth felt like sandpaper and you couldn’t swallow. You felt the all too familiar tremors of your hands start to pick up.

“Listen,” you heard her tone soften. “I’m in love with you, okay? I love you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t think about being with anyone else.”

The sharp gasp you sucked in made both heads turn towards you in shock, and your teary eyes locked with wide, green ones.

You wanted to fall through the floor and die.

Cat scoffed and shook her head as if to say see what I mean before she puffed on her—Ellie’s—vape.

Ellie’s call of your name snapped you out of your stupor, your feet moving before your brain could tell them to, clumsily shuffling your way back into your heartbreaker’s home, sliding the door shut with a loud slam.

Everyone who’d been dancing jumped at the sound, turning to take in your ruffled state as their energetic smiles slowly dropped in concern.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Dina said gently over the still loud music.

Your sister called your name out with worry in her voice. You looked into her eyes with a head shake before you choked out a reply.

“Can we… I wanna leave, please, now.”

a/n: heyyyy lol so yeah thats that ig. if anyone even reads or sees this fic plss be nice to me ive never written anything like this b4. idk how long this will be but its def gonna be long,,, lots of ground 2 cover w this universe this game is everything 2 me and so is ellie so ye bye lolz

read pt 2 here :D

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fateandloveentwined · 4 months

Text

wuxia and confucianism

Hey. Thought I'd answer the wuxia-confucian question very briefly. I did suggest wuxia being closely knitted to confucianism, but I do understand the other perspective of wuxia being anti-confucian. Quick answer only because I've got little time right now -- might add on to it later!!

confucianism

First the central themes of confucianism:

常 (cháng): Virtues of compassion and courtesy. 仁 (rén)、义 (yì)、礼 (lǐ)、智 (zhì)、信 (xìn)、忠 (zhōng)、孝 (xiào)、悌 (tì) (there are more). These in order in crude translation mean compassion, righteousness, courtesy, wisdom, integrity, loyalty, filial piety, and respect to one's older siblings. These are the main ideas Confucius, the founder of Confucianism, wished to spread through his philosophy.

纲 (gāng): Order. This is about the relationships between people, the filial piety of child to their parents, the relationship between significant others, between friends and teachers, and expanding outwards in the sphere of influence in our circle of life, the patriotism and loyalty of a liege to his lord.

Understand that Confucius came up with these ideas in a time of war. He lived his life traversing different kingdoms and establishing his prominence by getting emperors to trust him as a consultant and employ his school of ideas. As such, these beliefs are very much centred around creating harmony and order in society, and of course entails the respect of commoners and lieges to their lords (because why else would kings employ his beliefs over other schools of philosophy if not so?).

wuxia

Moving on to the wuxia genre, the 侠 (xiá) in wuxia emphasises righteousness. xia, as people, are itinerants and rebels in the fictitious pugilistic society who tire of the power of the aristocracy and seek to use their own, often unlawful ways, to help others through 锄强扶弱 (chú qiáng fú ruò) -- helping the needy and going against the strong (the morals are debatable but that's me trying to sum up wuxia in 5 minutes off the top of my head rip).

conclusions

So I guess that's enough information for you to form your own conclusions, and here's what I think, at the very least.

Against Confucianism -- Subverting the power pyramid. Many of the heroes/xia's in wuxia are lawless rebels. They aren't good, upstanding citizens of the society. Hell, xia was first popularised from 游侠列传 (yóu xiá liè zhuàn) in the Han dynasty records, talking about how a "xia" went against the officials and helped the commoners in the name of righteousness. This goes against the confucian beliefs of respecting your lord and serving the kingdom.* That's why I can understand why some would consider wuxia going against confucianism.

Align with Confucianism -- Righteousness. Ultimately, however, wuxia is about righteousness and nobility and honour, defined by society and commoners and not by royal blood. These values of etiquette, decorum, and nobility were long ingrained in the hearts of all these chinese characters, from when the courtesy and etiquette rules were defined in the Zhou dynasty, and afterwards, from the Han dynasty on, when emperors heavily employed Confucian beliefs in education and throughout society because it helps in rebuilding a harmonious society.

Confucianism is about compassion and righteousness, the staples permeating and defining chinese culture in the last two thousand years, and it is these values that serve as the central impetus of the xia and wuxia genres. People are born into these values; as such they fight against the injustice they see, and thus engenders the lost xia's of every dynasty.

*And well, even Confucius wasn't that dead set on fealty to lords. Confucian highly venerated loyalty, but when the court is corrupt, they acknowledge insurgence over the mindless following of an emperor. This is a story for another day, one I would have to back up with more quotes and citations, but I hope this answered your questions, or even better, let you form some conclusions of your own :)

Confucian philosophy is only one aspect that has correlations/influences over the "xia" genre, there are many other interesting things to say about Taoism and Buddhism as well (e.g. Jin Yong's wuxia classics have quite a bit of Buddhist values in the characters owing to author preferences), it's definitely worth looking up on these things if you're interested!

initially reblogged under the original meta post on wuxia, xianxia, and cultivation differences, but i realised it was too long and would bury the reply, so please don't mind me opening a new post for this again.

feel free to ask and discuss!!

#chinese #cdrama #danmei #philosophy #chinese language #chinese culture #wuxia #cnovel #chinese history #confucius #confucianism #chinese philosophy #fate's meta

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f1letters · 1 year

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lavender haze | mv1

"I been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully"

summary: after winning his second championship in another controversial way, max needed her by his side more than ever as the media tried to tear him apart

warning: a little bit of angst for Max, but overall fluff for the couple, swearing, suggestive language, mentions of the championship-deciding races of Abu Dhabi GP 2021 and Japan GP 2022 from Max's point of view, mentions of scrutiny from the media, Jos Verstappen lol

pairing: max verstappen x reader

word count: 2.8k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past. also, I would like to point out that I didn't write this as a personal opinion/critique of Ted or anyone involved in the whole Sky Sports scandal (which is why I didn't use his name or his exact words in the story and why I only used the controversy as a reference/inspiration very loosely), but rather wrote about what I imagine were the thoughts/feelings of people on Max's side (himself, the Red Bull team, Jos, etc), regarding this matter.

dutch words used: schatje = baby; liefje = honey

and we are back! once again, thank you all for being so understanding about me skipping last weekend 💜 I hope you enjoy this little story, as always!

masterlist

Meet me at midnight

Ever since he was just a little boy, all Max dreamed of was being a Formula 1 champion.

To have his name written in the history books. To have his legacy immortalized in the records for eternity.

From then, Max spent all of his hours, days, weeks, months and years preparing for it. He gave all of his blood, sweat and tears for it.

For that exact moment: when he stood right there in Japan, tall and proud, with his trophy in hand, after being announced World Champion for the 2nd time.

Lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling next to his girlfriend, the driver could still feel the euphoria coursing through his veins.

He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be in that position.

He had everything he could ever want: his biggest dream came true twice, he had a successful career that so many envied, and most of all, he had the best person in the world by his side.

At the end of the day, it didn't matter all the money, the victories, the parties, the luxury if he couldn't have her there in his arms.

Y/N was everything to him, and he knew that the championship victory was as much hers as his.

Max let his hand run through the shiny strands of his partner's hair, the warm skin of their bodies pressed together, while Y/N drew random figures with her soft fingers across the man's toned chest.

The couple remained in each other's arms, not saying too much, both still over the moon and completely in awe from the unforgettable day they just had.

"I'm so proud of you, my love." Y/N broke the silence installed in the hotel room, whispering her words. "You can't imagine how happy I am for you."

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Max half smirked with his eyes half closed as sleep began to creep in.

With his eyes locked on the girl before him, the boy tucked the hair that covered her face behind her ear and stayed like that for a few minutes. Just living in the moment, letting her words sink in, appreciating what life had given him.

"Thanks, schatje. For everything." He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm completely crazy about you, you know that?"

Y/N laughed shyly, moving her body even closer to her boyfriend's, laying down on his chest. "Stop, Max! You know I get all embarrassed when you start saying stuff like that."

"You stop! I'm just telling the truth!" Their laughter filled the room in pure harmony. Max stopped, returning to his moment of gratitude. "I just love you. So much, Y/N. This is all thanks to you."

"This is all thanks to your talent, baby." The young woman rested her cheek against the driver's bare shoulder. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Y/N knew that Max would immediately understand what she was trying to say.

The girl couldn't help but fear that the Dutchman would let all the scrutiny behind yet another championship win bring him down.

Max had a whole facade around him. Max appeared to be confident, poised, collected, unfazed by all adversity, and sometimes even self-centred and arrogant because of his posture on the track.

But deep down, Max was nothing but a fragile little boy, still trying to seek his father's approval.

Max was obsessed with perfection. Everything he had to do had to be absolutely spot on: every corner had to be perfectly executed, his car had to be at its best at all times, any position other than the first one was simply not good enough.

Knowing him better than anyone, Y/N knew how to handle him beautifully and knew that in the back of Max's mind, the fact that this was yet another victory tainted by controversy was tormenting him, even if he tried to hide it.

I've been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

Both of them could only imagine all the headlines, the comments, the criticism. All because of a loophole that was never under the driver's control.

"Don't worry about me." Max answered the unspoken question the girl posed. "I don't give a damn what people say."

The harsh words that came out of his mouth seemed to be an attempt to convince himself more than her. They both knew that.

It had been almost a year since the boy had been named champion for the first time and yet to that day he still suffered attacks due to something that (once again) was not in his power to change.

Y/N didn't push, knowing the argument was going nowhere, and instead chose to joke with her boyfriend to lighten the mood. "Well, I don't know if you know this... but you look so much hotter as a two-time world champion."

Happiness filled Max's chest as he chuckled, turning their position so that his body was on top of hers. His lips roamed over her neck, leaving soft kisses and nibbles along the way, until he strayed away to deposit an intense and passionate kiss on her mouth.

His head lifted slightly, creating enough distance between them for him to speak, though their lips were still touching. "What if I showed again how it feels like to fuck a two-time world champion, hmm?"

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

Two weeks passed until the next race, the couple trapped in their lavender haze.

The Texas sun cut through the clouds in the sky and reflected warmly on the girl's skin as she entered the circuit, side by side with Carola.

Both friends over the last few years since they met in the Red Bull garage through their partners, the young women understood each other perfectly: both were reserved, with no great desire for attention on them, just there to support their lovers.

As always, a peaceful and relaxed conversation was taking place between the two, as they strolled around the paddock with smiles on their faces.

Carola told Y/N all about the latest incident at the Perez house, with the small sibling clashes between Checo Jr. and Carlota, and the other girl just laughed. She knew how happy those children made her friend and she couldn't wish anything else for Carola.

Suddenly the mood around them seemed to change.

The environment that before was serene, relaxed, and enthusiastic now gave off a heavy, tense, nervous energy.

Y/N started looking into the faces of the people they passed for answers, aware that they were looking at her. What the fuck is going on, she thought to herself.

Carola sensed the discomfort on her friend, placing a concerned hand on the girl's shoulder. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"Well, I'd like to know the answer to that question too," Y/N confessed without too much thought. "I don't know, honestly. I have a feeling something is wrong."

"Maybe it's nothing," The Mexican tried to calm her down, running her hand up and down along her friend's forearm, although she was aware of the gazes in their direction too. "We're almost at the garage and we'll clear everything up."

Walking through the navy blue walls, the tension only intensified in the air.

The faces of the team members showed worry and nervousness, and the PR team rushing back and forth relentlessly was a sign that something had gone wrong during the drivers' media duties following their practice session.

Knowing Max like the back of her hand... Y/N knew it was him.

All they keep asking me

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see

Is a one-night or a wife

"Hey, where's Max?" Y/N asked her father-in-law, Jos, who wore an angry look on his face. Although their relationship was distant, she knew that if anyone was aware of everything that was going on in her boyfriend's career, it was his father.

"Would also like to know." The man replied dryly, running a hand impatiently through his hair. "He just walked out of here like a fucking coward, and left the others here to sort out his shit."

Y/N swallowed hard, knowing it wasn't worth wasting time trying to defend Max as all the words she would say would go in one ear and out the other. "What happened?"

"That shitty reporter, that's what happened." The older Verstappen replied, raising his tone. "That bastard had the nerve to say on live TV that Max didn't deserve any of his titles, and he panicked like a pussy. I didn't raise him like that - I raised him to be a man, not a little boy."

Without a second thought, Y/N turned her back on the man and grabbed her phone, trying to call her partner, only for her call to go to voicemail.

Unconsciously, the girl opened her Instagram and immediately came across the reporter's now-viral video.

"He doesn't seem to be capable of winning a championship without some sort of scandal. First, Hamilton was obviously ripped off in Abu Dhabi; now, they award full points in a race that wasn't even half finished because of some apparent 'loophole'?! Favouritism at its best."

All of a sudden, the air seemed to have difficulty getting into the girl's lungs, the temperature seemed to have risen dramatically, and Y/N started to feel dizzy as the media started to bring up Max's history.

Max, where are you, she asked herself, begging for a sign of his presence.

I find it dizzying

They're bringing up my history

But you aren't even listening

Y/N looked everywhere: in the garage, in his driver's room, in all the different rooms in the motorhome, in the back of the building, in the cafeteria, everywhere.

She was starting to run out of options, but she knew he had to be around somewhere since his exit from the circuit would not be discreet at all, quite the contrary.

If I were Max where would I hide from the world, she reflected, desperate to be reunited with her boyfriend. Of course! In the place where everyone least expected to find him.

With a hurried step and depositing complete confidence in this last and risky idea, Y/N set off on her way until she came face to face with the red walls, embellished with the Prancing Horse symbol.

Deviating towards the back of the Ferrari building, Y/N felt her heart return to its normal rhythm when she set her eyes on the image of his lover.

There he was, sitting on the grass, with his vision pointed to the sky, so small and so fragile that no one else would be able to see him hiding there.

The girl slowly approached the driver, almost afraid to startle him, until he eventually noticed her presence when she was only a few inches away from him. His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight of his girlfriend, and a small, forced smile appeared on his face.

"Of course you found me," Max whispered, placing his hand on the girl's thigh, who was now sitting on the grass next to him. "I guess you already know what happened."

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, hugging his strong arm. "Yeah, I saw it... I'm sorry Max, you don't deserve this."

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

That lavender haze

"I don't really care," Max spoke, shaking his head. "Let them say what they want. It doesn't matter to me."

"Baby…" The young woman knew that he was doing what he always did: bottling it up inside, hiding his feelings, just like he was taught to do his whole life.

"Liefje, don't worry. I'm fine, I promise."

"Max, stop doing this." Y/N touched his face, forcing him to look at her with his noticeably teary eyes.

"Y/N-"

"Max, please." The girl begged. "You don't have to pretend to be strong with me. You can be honest; you can scream, cry, freak out, you name it, and I'll always be here to listen."

The Dutchman took a deep breath in acceptance, leaning his head back against the red wall. "I'm just tired, you know? I try and try to do my best at all times and it's never enough. Not for the media, not for my dad, or-"

"For me, it's more than enough." The girlfriend interrupted. "And it should be enough for you too. You shouldn't care what others say… Especially your father." She teased, forcing a laugh out of Max's mouth.

The boy contemplated her words for a few seconds, placing a kiss on her temple. "I love you, you're the best."

"I know," She replied, bumping his shoulder playfully. "But I'm serious, Max. No one should have enough power over you that they can make you feel inferior, or less than you are. You are Max fucking Verstappen, two-time Formula 1 world champion. And so much more to come, I don't doubt it for a second."

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

The girl jumped to her feet, waking the driver from his own thoughts, and reached out to him with both her hands to help him get up on his feet too. "Come on, champ! Enough sulking here and let's face the world with our heads held high, shall we?"

Much calmer after getting it off his chest, Max looked at her with eyes shining with pride and, accepting her help, he got up. Instantly, his arms found their place around her waist, as did his lips on hers.

The couple shared a calm kiss, enjoying their moment of peace in the midst of such a chaotic situation.

"Thanks, schatje." Max said, returning his mouth to hers seconds later. "I can never thank you enough for everything you've done and do for me every day."

"I would do anything for you, baby." Y/N smiled wide, the dimples in her cheeks becoming noticeable. "Anything."

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

On their way to the Red Bull garage, the two reappeared in the paddock, hand in hand, eyes only on each other.

With them, dozens of photographers and journalists emerged from the shadows, hunting the Dutchman for his comments and trying to get controversial headlines for their next articles.

But from Max, they only managed to take away the magical smile he had stamped on his face while talking to his girlfriend.

It was almost as if nothing had happened to him, such was the confident and determined posture the driver now assumed.

There was nothing like a good dose of love to make someone feel on top of the world, and Max was living proof of that in front of all those prying eyes.

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

That lavender haze

I just wanna stay

The world could crumble around them and they would still manage to stay on their feet.

They were a team. They had the perfect balance between them, the strength to face any obstacle together. Like two separate souls born to be reunited, in this life and all lives to come. Born to be on their lavender haze forever.

"Just you and me, liefje." Max whispered so only she could hear over the screams and camera flashes.

Y/N pulled him by the arm closer to her body in search of the comfort he conveyed to her every time, and smiled discreetly at him.

"You and me against the world, my love."

I just wanna stay

In that lavender haze

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog-blog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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