#i've been thinking about it for like two years and working on it for about 3 months and it's finally here!!!!

[lymtw]

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

-

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

[jimlingss]

🎉 happy four years (since my retirement)!

It's been nine years since I started this blog. Wow! It seems that tumblr's changed a little bit in terms of formatting too.

I hope everyone is doing well :) It seems that there are a few people who wait for my yearly updates and I am incredibly honoured!!

I am happy to announce I have graduated from law school! Yipe! Time FLIES! I'll be starting work shortly at a firm and in one year's time, I'll be a full-fledged lawyer :> I am still dating my wonderful boyfriend! It's been about a year and a half - and we have plans to move out soon together and be closer to our workplaces, so lots of exciting developments!

I've been thinking lately about this transition from school to work and how for the first time I'm truly becoming an "adult". What is it that I want my life to look like from here on out. What it is that I want to do. More importantly, I've been thinking about writing. As always and what still remains true: I really want to write a book! It's just a little bit daunting since I want it to go well. I've yet to take the leap, but the plans are still there. I think for now I might try to just work for this upcoming year and see how that goes rather than starting two fresh endeavours at once. Hopefully in the coming years, I am able to build the courage to try :)

Thank you to all who still read my stories and give feedback, whether through direct messages or reblogs. I read them all! I still check in often and it always warms my heart while reminding me of one of the fondest eras of my life. I hope to all who reads this message that happiness, success and good health find you all! I am manifesting this!!

Until next year :)

[itsblasttothepast]

Checo was invited to 'Desde el Paddock' Podcast, with Memo Rojas, and here some of his iconic comments:

Checo: I met Christian Honer for the first time, and he told me, "We're a team that competes with two cars because we have to run two cars. We can happily race with just Max." And I said, "Okay, now we can race with two cars. Sign me up." And then I understood how the team worked... I focused on it. In the second race, I qualified ahead of Max, and in the fifth, I won, and I stayed there for six years."

Memo: It was four years, wasn't it?

Checo: Well, but I charged them as if they were six.

+++

Memo: Does Checo want to return to Formula 1?

Checo: Yes, I want to. The answer is yes, if the project that comes along feels right. I don't want to return at all costs; I don't want to be traveling around the world as a third driver or waiting there for an opportunity. I think I've been very fortunate with the career I've had, and I want to return because I don't want to end my career like this. But I'm also aware that I'll return if it's worth the price to be in F1.

+++

And my favorite:

Checo: I won't tell you where I buy my elotes anymore!

My King, finally speaking without a filter, and this is important, Memo Rojas is one of Telmex ex-drivers, he is deeply into MotorSports, so Checo being there, telling the dish (he said so many more things about RBR)... it gives me hope (also he looks so yummy).

[wordssoonforgotten]

I was wondering if you could do a jinx x either piltie reader or a reader that works for silco too where jinx falls HARD for this girl but readers oblivious so jinx has to make it very very obvious just some cutesyness

Jinx x Piltoveran!reader. Hope you like! Honestly one of my favorite things I’ve written so far. No content warnings. 735 words.

Jinx is so over Piltoverans.

In all honestly, she'd been over them since birth. It was simply the Zaunite way; but there was one she simply couldn't manage to hate lithe rest. You were like a guilty pleasure, except there was no guilt concerning how she felt at all. The pleasure you gave her was more rebellious than anything. However, that doesn't mean you didn't get on every single one of her nerves.

Jinx has been sneaking to see you for a year. It started as cat-like curiosity turned infatuation, but now, every time you so much as look at her a certain way, she feels herself teetering closer and closer to the edge; dangerously close to falling in love. It's new, exciting, and gives her that rush she thought was only possible from watching something explode. (It almost makes her wants to jump right off, just to see if you catch her.) Much to her annoyance, she wasn't sure if you felt the same way she did.

She likes to think she's making it stupid obvious; laying it on thick every time she comes to see you. With the way you just laugh at her, or simply don't pick up what she puts down, she's beginning to think she's not so good at all. It's either that, or you're infuriatingly slow for someone so smart.

For the second time this week, Jinx has weaseled her way through your window and made herself comfortable in your silky sheets. The two of you sit closely together on the bed as you recount every event of your day to her. You speak so softly that your voice almost gets lost with the wind. She uses it as an excuse to lean closer. Every few sentences, your eyes drift to your bedroom door, as if you expect someone to knocking it down any moment. Despite how long the two of you have gotten away with your late-night-rendezvous, you still get nervous. She tilts her mischievously. Her fingers crawl up shoulder and stop on your chin, turning your head to face her. You blush; but continue talking like normal.

That was her very last straw. She deserved more than simple a blush.

"Soooo….princess. Still not seeing anyone?" She keeps her voice light. Like she doesn't care about the answer at all. You raise your eyebrow at the seemingly out-of-the-blue question. "Not currently. Why?" Jinx smiles with false nonchalance

"Just kinda seemed like you would be by now."

"…Well I'm not."

"Are you interested in seeing someone?"

You snort and shrug your shoulders hopelessly. "Who would I even see?"

"Me." She answers immediately. Your brain short circuits and you just stare at her. For a second she thinks she's broken you, but then you very hesitantly narrow your eyes. "Are you..serious?" She barely manages to hold back a loud snort, but she nods quickly. "Very serious. Most serious I've ever been, actually." You nod slowly as if you're still processing her words so she continues. "I've been serious for a while now, you've just been too dense to notice." Playful frustration fills her tone as you suddenly become more alert. "A while!? How long is a while!?" She doesn't stop the chortle that erupts from her.

"Months."

"Months?!" You shout before quickly covering your mouth and glancing at the door. Once You're sure no one heard, you turn a fierce glare at her. "Why didn't you say anything?!" Now her brain short circuits. She looks at you in hysterical exasperation, shaking her head so quickly you're scared she'll get dizzy. "I've been very-obviously flirting for—this whole time!" You roll your eyes as your face begins to heat up. "Well you should've been clearer."

"I couldn't have been any clearer without tattooing it on my forehead!" She scoffs. "Typical dense, unaware pilties. Never noticing the extremely obvious truths right in front of their dumb faces—" She's cut off by your lips crashing into hers mid Piltover hating tirade. It doesn't take much for her to lean into it, her hands coming up to grip your hair. After a full minute of all but inhaling each other, she comes up for air. "Guess that means the feelings' mutual, huh?" You huff and give her a cheeky smirk.

"See how I made that obvious?"

She flips you off before pulling you back into another, harder kiss.

"I'll work on it."

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[inexplicifics]

I’m also a writer, of both fanfics and works I hope to publish someday, and I was wondering if I could ask your advice. I have a number of larger projects that I want to undertake, but thinking about how long it’s going to take to finish them makes me anxious and then I won’t even start. You’re an incredible writer and you have so many finished works; how do you do it? What would you recommend for someone who feels incredibly daunted by the lengthy and disheartening process that is writing a novel or series?

Also thank you for your Accidental Warlord series; it brings me inexpressible joy every time I read it

Oooh okay this is a complicated one. Let's see.

First off, and this is hard: don't compare your output to other authors. I have what my friends affectionately refer to as Wordy Bitch Disease. I write a lot, I write fast, and I write clean enough copy that Rose isn't doing copyedits, she's doing plot and characterization fixes. I start a new WIP...pretty near daily some weeks, and they do not all get done. My WIPs list is frankly fucking terrifying. But it's important to note that I have been writing pretty consistently for twenty years at least, and I was not as fast, coherent, or skilled when I started. For that matter, when I'm tired or stressed or just feeling blah, sometimes the words don't come, and it's important not to beat yourself up about it when that happens.

Second bit of advice: start smaller. I really, really like flash fic challenges and themed prompt lists and tumblr ask memes, because they make me limit my story to what can be told in a few thousand words. That lets me improve my craft without getting bogged down in enormous plotlines. (Yes, sometimes the story still grows a plot. But it's less frequent.)

Third bit of advice: take little bites, and accept that it's going to take a long time and possibly several drafts. When I started MBTT, I genuinely thought it would be 50K. (I am bad at estimating finished lengths of stories.) But I still took it one chapter at a time, and tried to have each chapter be a coherent whole, a chunk of story that needed to be told. When I'm working on the AWAU, if I think about the whole overarching storyline too much, I get overwhelmed and have to go stick my head under a proverbial rock for a while. But one story is doable, most of the time. I've had to restart drafts for some stories two, three, four times to get the voice and style and plot to cooperate. Be willing to say, That's not working, and try something else, even if you're really fond of what you've written so far.

Fourth bit of advice: learn what style of planning works for you. Some people like to outline in great detail. Some people like a sketchy outline. Some people, like me, can't outline - it kills the story for me. The WIP I started this morning has a notes section for important characterization details and the single plot point "Bandits?" Anything more than that, and I won't write it, because in some sense I've already written it so why bother doing it again?

Fifth and final bit of advice, because this is getting long: if you can find a cheer-reader, cherish them. Having someone in the doc leaving comments or emoticons helps immensely with knowing how my readers will react and with keeping my own enthusiasm for a story stoked high, which vastly increases the likelihood of it getting finished.

Good luck! Be brave! Thank you for the compliments!

I hope to read your stories someday!

[thewertsearch]

Rumbled!

TG: was havin important chats GG: Oh? GG: With whom? […] TG: di stri

Which would have ruled out my guesses of Dale and Drew. I still think I'd have gone with Dick, because of the, uh, everything, but Hussie decided to avoid the low-hanging fruit this time around.

GG: […] I was just the target of another assassination attempt. […] GG: Two, in fact! One here in the real world, as I attempted to retrieve the mail. GG: Luckily it was thwarted by a certain cat who shall remain nameless. […] GG: But in the process of being rescued from the explosion, I was knocked unconscious. GG: And in my dream, there was another assassination attempt. GG: This one I believe was successful! […] GG: I'm becoming convinced that our "dream selves" are being picked off by violent hooligans. […] GG: The one who accosted me was a knife-wielding lunatic. GG: And it's reasonable to deduce the same forces were responsible for Jake's death on Prospit as well. GG: It looks like we are in the clutches of an actual caper. A real life mystery!

It's funny that she's being so twee about this whole thing. Describing her attempted assassination as a caper makes it feel like a Nancy Drew mystery - and honestly, if Jane's going to treat Sburb's intrigue as if she's the protagonist of a detective story, I'm all for it.

I mean, we need this sort of thinking, don't we? We need someone to absorb the facts of the case, detect their way to the culprit (English), and discern means, motive and opportunity. With Jane spearheading this 'investigation', we might finally trace things back to the ultimate source of all our problems.

GG: Shortly before I was stabbed, I had a rather long gander at Skaia. […] GG: I saw things in the clouds. […] GG: Things happening in the future, I think. GG: Many events pertaining to us. All of us, and other people I didn't recognize. GG: It was a bit overwhelming. […] GG: It made me feel pretty foolish too. […] GG: I began to wonder why I ever had the audacity to think I know much of anything about the world we live in or the journey we're about to take. GG: Or to think I could ever rule anything out. GG: I have a feeling that whatever I saw, it means you've been telling the truth all along.

It's almost as if it's easier for your mind to comprehend the truth when you're asleep. It's as though your Dream Self's brain is free of the Tiaratop's corruption, allowing you to finally blow the cobwebs off your - artificially sedated - sleuthing instincts.

GG: And I'm starting to feel like a complete idiot for doubting you. […] GG: I've been one great big horse's caboose, and I think you're owed an apology. GG: Do you think you can forgive me? TG: jane TG: damn TG: ur makin me feel like shit here GG: Why? TG: uuuun TG: eh no reason

Can’t think of what this could be, to be honest.

Roxy seems entirely above board, and there's no evidence that she's, like, secretly working against Jane or anything. Maybe this is when her allegiance to the Horrorterrors is finally revealed.

TG: what were we talking about again TG: soory im just worked up ovr it GG: I don't blame you. GG: Where we were, by my estimation, was a place wherein I was about to awkwardly attempt to swallow a helping of humble pie. GG: To somehow make it up to you for my years of stubborn mistrust. TG: hey jane TG: wasnt that a bunch a splip infinitives… […] GG: Oh!!! TG: lul so busted GG: Oh gosh, what a doofus. GG: You see?? I clearly don't have all the answers! GG: I really had some nerve challenging anyone, on practically any subject. TG: dont beat urself up too bad we both know that rule is bullshit anyway TG: you hold yourself to too high a standard and those standards kinda leak out and start gettin applied to other people i guess sometimes

Does she? That's not really something I've noticed. Sure, she's corrected a couple of typos, but beyond that, I don't see what standards she's been applying to everyone else.

I suppose she's probably been telling everyone to be 'rational', and ignore this silly Batterwitch conspiracy, just like she does. But is that really a 'standard'?

[flawlessflesh]

i've always felt constrained and confused by fandom where everything is shipping focused - it is difficult to find meta or works which aren't filtered through the lens of inevitable romance. i have more success with characters who don't have easy/widely-appealing Shipping Prospects, such as thistle or like, a fromsoft character with 10 lines who then dies LOL

i don't know if it's my irl indifference leeching through, but romance is not any more interesting or important than other relationships. because romance is not particularly notable in my worldview, i am alienated by fandom's focus on shipping and true love, and i am irritated when it feels like people are only capable of interpreting my work through it.

i understand shipping as a shorthand. i've tried in the past to fit my interests into it, but it just felt like people were misunderstanding me because of a '/' between two names, and like i was mimicking behavior i observed rather than felt. i think it's a matter of intent. i am interested in stories which explore romance/sex (some of my favorite movies/books do!), but i am rarely interested in Shipping as a function of fandom. maybe it's because of how characters are placed into well-used templates to serve the ship? or how any interaction must mean a romance that can't be challenged? the character becomes unrecognizable to me - the ship has replaced them.

i've been in fandoms for almost twenty years and i still don't get it! so i gave uppppp

all of this is to say that i am trying to find a ground where i can write stories that matter to me about topics like incest or abuse, which are treated in wider fandom as either radioactive OR only titillating. extremely reductive and limiting. so i am thankful that followers/friends appreciate my stories - if i didn't care, i wouldn't be sharing anything online.

(this is my experience, i am not telling others what they should feel or do. i do not care about that...)

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 1) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, adjust as necessary

i ordered this couch, but it popped, and now my kitchen is all wet and covered with wet stuff.

i need you. i need to care for you. it is the reason for my existence.

do you want to go on a date?

can you tell me how the book made you angry?

your life is about to change. hope you're ready.

let's go on a date right now.

trust me, this is going to go super well.

if everyone were friends, the world would be an awful lot safer in my opinion.

i've seen the complications of love. i've lived through the jealous quarrels of hate.

the true bond is one between two friends with none of the intricacies of romantic tension.

i like it much better up here where i can see your face.

hey there, stranger.

we've been sleeping together so many years, it would be a little weird if you didn't know me, don't you think?

it's a shame for someone as cute as you to be alone for so long, isn't it?

will you be bringing someone back here anytime soon?

i do hope you'll come talk to me. it'd be nice to finally get to know each other.

you've caught me at a strange time.

that's okay. i like being naked.

why are you here? what are you doing?

please, please... i'm not ready. not like this.

i've dreamed of this, of meeting you, finally... and now the moment is here, i... i just can't. not yet.

honestly, that's a objectively terrible password.

i get chills just thinking about it.

i would love to answer that for you, but the knowledge would no doubt drive you to madness.

can i be honest about something?

it's just that... before today, i had all these needs, but i couldn't articulate them to anyone.

you're quite the looker, aren't you?

i have had enough attention on me, thank you very much.

i can't say i'm looking for anything too serious right now.

i just want to see you live a little, that's all! stop watching life pass you by! enjoy yourself! kiss someone! kiss many someones!

my senses are heightened when i'm in a mood.

the physical connection between him and me... it is like nothing i have known before or since.

thank you, sincerely, for listening.

you're serious? you're not fucking with me?

do you, like me, enjoy celebrating at the altar of your own glorious form?

i knew i could count on you.

are you as excited as i am?

you are radiant.

i was thinking we could visit some very naughty websites together.

honestly, you're being super disrespectful.

we'll have to work on that enthusiasm.

get out. i've got work to do.

what brings you to the call of night?

i have been waiting in the abyss in search of a companion.

you? i always thought of you as a companion, someone who followed me around and gave me advice. cute, but expendable.

do you enjoy coming here?

i assume you brought your tools and knowledge and... probably a snack of some sort?

i am beside myself with happiness.

what can i do for you?

today was supposed to be my day off.

how much do you think about me?

for you, there is almost nothing i wouldn't do to help you relax.

to know that i'm giving you precisely the thing you want at that moment... oh, it fulfills me. it makes me whole.

as soon as i fulfill your command, your desire, i become the one with the power.

sometimes i cannot resist playing your sensation. just a bit. i am a craftsman and you are my clay.

now i have truly said too much.

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't just a little bit sweet on you.

hold onto me real tight.

[endivinity]

WOUGH okay so the premise all started because of the way I play FO4 on survival which is about as long and arduous as this post. it's ALL in settlement building and most of my mods reflect this. I play that shit like minecraft. I'll chuck some screenshots at the end

the more you think about it, the less plausible it is for a soldier or a lawyer respectively to have ANY idea about the fine tuning of crafting a fusion generator or a water purifier, let alone know how to construct a pre-broken window pane. None of the wood is useable - there's no amount of fantasy that can make me believe a whole bed can be constructed out of two pencils and a pack of cigarettes. Realistically - the resources need to come from somewhere. I've also read critiques about how the commonwealth hasn't progressed for two centuries (which, part of this is because of how Bethesda handles the Fallout franchise vs the established societies in 1 and 2. for the record i LOATHED 3 and am very firmly a new vegas bitch). They're still living in Diamond City surrounded by piles of trash and the rest of the NPC settlements are canonically wiped out or basically considered the dregs (Goodneighbor, the Children of Atom, charitably the Atom Cats; Quincy and University Point, etc). They live off scavenging for trash and components that are somehow still lying around untouched. Most of this is because the game wants you to use this cool mechanic they've introduced and to feel like you're rebuilding the wasteland with your bare hands, and you get your pick of a huge scope of lands to build on, and the appearance of actual civilisation suffers for it. Nobody lives there. Realistically, you're going to build up one or two really good settlements and the rest are barebones or empty.

Jake (probably has a longer name. it's never mentioned) is a civil engineer who has combat training and survival know-how for funsies and by the cusp of the great war her department had enough downsizing that she was taking on the work of coworkers who had been "let go" (executed for thought crimes), so she knows some stuff about blueprinting things other than major city infrastructure, at least enough to delegate or make suggestions. She also stirred the pot and got higher-ups very angry at her and was punitively assigned to marriage and domesticity in Sanctuary Hills. Most importantly, she's not related to the family that have the kid. Nate gets shot and Nora suffocates in cryo.

She enters a world that perplexes her specifically because nothing has progressed for two hundred years, but through very very careful investigation she finds out that something or someone is actively interfering with any attempts to settle and develop. There's an intensive spying network going on and she has to figure out what's safe, who's safe, how the raider groups are able to be raiding year-round without dying of starvation because they're certainly not farming, how to build and manage and educate her new settlements without tripping the local spy network, how to set up trade convoys for lumber and concrete without tripping the local spy network OR instigating the raider gangs that systematically wiped out the convoys in the first place, and how to source parts for this goddamn water purifier schematic while not dying to super-radstorms or a really big wild hog. She customarily fights with a knife (Throatslicer); she's proficient at sniping and occasionally uses a plasma sniper or a gauss rifle.

Deacon is her story companion because of the 'friend' RR sign above the vault. Guy's been spying from the get-go. But because Jake's super paranoid and realistically, he has no way of knowing who you are because you aren't stupid and bald and wearing a pair of signature sunglasses, he loses her the moment she ditches the vault suit at the Abernathys'; half of his part of the story is trying to find out what happened to her, why the institute was involved in the vault at all (and increasingly wild theories about how she's a synth plant), and who this weirdass woman is who's suddenly taking over the trade routes, and talk of new settlements that's kept so hush-hush he can't even crack the secrets with his super believable caravan hand outfit.

Eventually Jake realizes she's in way over her head trying to manage settlements and hunts down the Railroad to ask for help, which... they're very downsized. They're basically a skeleton crew. I have no idea how they suddenly have all those heavies at the battle of bunker hill or the castle or whatever the fuck. So they can't and/or won't help her, and it comes down to Deacon to make an executive decision over what he thinks is going to be longterm better for the wasteland and the synth populations, and when weighing up the options between this cool lady who never shows her face and creeps around spiderman-style to sever a gunner's spinal cord and wants to crack the Institute wide open, or being trapped in a crypt with Carrington and successfully exfiltrating one synth every three months, the decision is obvious

and since you made it this far here's some shots of builds I've worked on. My main base at Egret Tours; Sanctuary Hills after I removed all the shitass housing for funsies; Murkwater Construction with incredibly poor navmeshing; my other main at Dalton Farm. yes my save file hates me

[bigheartbuck]

i keep these longings locked

part i part ii mentions of abbytommy/tommy-centric/eventual bucktommy

tw: internalized homophobia/homophobic language

I promise the next bit is going to be more lighthearted!

tag list: @sweaters-and-silly (lmk if you wanna be added too) ______________________________

His chest is tight as fuck. Tommy breathes through it. Head between his knees, feels his pulse uncomfortably loud and present in his neck. Lockers have emptied out mostly. His vision is swimming. He feels like throwing up.

"Kinard? Oh shit, hey."

He can hear fast footsteps, and then a warm, big hand on his shoulder. "You got it," the voice says and Tommy's brain is desperately trying to place it. His hands are shaking. "Inhale.... hold your breath, three, two, one, ....exhale. Good. Again, come on."

By the time Tommy emerges from what feels like the deepest, darkest sea and comes up for air, he's realized that the warm hand and firm voice belong to his new captain. Hen had given him a week tops. But Nash has persevered. Four weeks and counting. Tommy would've rather been found dead before ever letting Gerrard see him like this but Nash has a softness to him. His whole lets have dinner together shtick, his we're a family and we ride together pathos, his unwavering determination to make them act like a team -- Tommy's not sure he quite fits in there. Right now, though, he's glad it's Nash who found him like this and not Howie or Hen. They'd stage an intervention immediately.

Nash hands him a water bottle, sits down next to him. "Better?"

Tommy lets out a shaky breath. “Thanks cap. I, uh, I don’t know what just happened." He rubs his hand across his face. “I don’t usually get… like this.” He forces a smile. "Guess it was a couple of tough calls."

Nash eyes him, somewhat curiously. Several beats. "Everything alright at home?" Tommy shrugs. He should go home. Sleep it off. He meets Nash's steady gaze, but there's a flicker of genuine concern. Tommy can't handle it, Nash's empathy.

"Yeah. Everything's good," he lies and reaches for his bag. Nash stops him. "Not so fast. I uh -- I'd been meaning to talk to you."

Tommy blinks, confused, his hand still hovering near the strap of his bag. He’s not sure where this is going. "Uh oh," he says dryly. His pulse is still racing and only slowly returning to normal. "Am I being fired, too?" Deluca is still pissed at Nash but Tommy knows it was the right call. He's been putting in the work, though. Doing his part. It would be really shitty timing for Nash to let him go as well.

Nash’s gaze sharpens for a moment, like he’s sizing Tommy up, and then he exhales softly. “No, you’re not getting fired.” He pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. Tommy's shoulders relax. "But?" he asks.

"But..." Nash continues, "I've been wondering if maybe you're not exactly who you're supposed to be."

"That so?" Tommy asks, aiming for casual. Nash doesn't know, does he? Fuck. He wonders sometimes if it's all over his face. Tommy Kinard thinks about kissing boys. Tommy Kinard is a queer. Don't ask, don't tell. But look at him, he tries so hard to be a big guy but he'd take it lying down, wouldn't he? Fuck. He needs to get his dad's voice out of his head. It's funny, the way he is still such a fuck up. How he tried to make it work so hard and how he still failed. He would've given everything to be happy with Abby.

He juts his chin forward. Nash looks at him with so much kindness it makes Tommy want to crawl out of his skin.

"You're a pilot," his captain says, oblivious to the dark spiral of Tommy's mind. Tommy exhales. Breathe. For fuck's sake. Breathe.

"And you're competent, skilled, you're quick. I'd love to keep you here. But I keep thinking maybe you belong elsewhere. And I hear the Harbor is looking for someone like you."

Tommy must look genuinely surprised because Nash lets out a huffed laugh. Tommy hasn't considered flying in years. "Seriously?"

Nash nods. "You're one of my best. But I saw the way you lit up when we called in air support last week. You loved working with them. So, my guess is, that's where your heart is."

Tommy thinks no one's ever paid attention to him like this before. His stomach unknots slowly. Shoulders uncurl.

"I'll -- I'll think about it."

Nash squeezes his shoulder. "You should. It can feel like suffocating. Denying yourself what you want."

Tommy stares down at his hands.

"Yes, cap," he says, throat working.

"Bobby." Nash points to the jeans he's wearing. "Off shift. I'm just Bobby."

"Bobby." Tommy echoes. His legs still feel like jelly.

He takes a few sips from the water. "I might --" His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

"I might have to look for a new place soon."

He hasn't talked to Abby yet. But he needs to, has to. He wakes up, shirt soaked through with sweat at least twice a night. The darkest, deepest sea in his mind and his father's voice are so hard to turn off. He can't live like this anymore. He's been googling apartments. Abby doesn't even know yet.

"I really uh --" Tommy doesn't know why he keeps talking. "I tried to make a good thing work and it didn't work."

Bobby nods. "And that's causing the panic attacks?" He asks it matter of factly.

Tommy clears his throat. "One panic attack." Lie. But Bobby doesn't have to know or be right about everything. "And I guess --" He hesitates. "Gotta figure out some stuff. Big stuff."

Bobby doesn't say anything for a while. Keeps his gaze steady. Tommy thinks he could probably confide in him. Bobby would see the ugly, dark, twistedness of Tommy's insides and tell him it was okay. That it gets better. And the thing is, Tommy knows. He knows. He saw some kid online the other day on YouTube. They were what, 15? When Tommy was 15 -- well. He's mid thirties now, not any less terrified. It's difficult to explain, out loud. How his head works. How the stuff that goes for others, doesn't apply to him. How he's less deserving of it.

"The big stuff," Bobby says after a while. He looks at Tommy, face open. He says it like a question, gently prompting Tommy to continue.

Tommy's eyes prickle. He should go.

He exhales. "Yeah. Been pretending to be... Someone I'm not."

He's a teenager and his dad caught him with a magazine of naked men and his hand down his pants. He's in the army and Micah is kissing him. He's 34 and engaged to a beautiful woman and he feels nothing when she shakes around him.

His mouth is dry as cotton.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder. "I hear you." A beat. "Don't need to say anything else."

They sit like this for a little while longer. Then, Tommy gathers his things, shoulders his bag. The ground feels a little less shaky. His knees don't buckle. He'll find an apartment. And he'll tell Abby.

"Kinard," Bobby says when Tommy's already at the door. Tommy turns around. "Promise me you'll think about transferring, yeah? Go after what you want?"

Tommy huffs out a laugh. Shakes his head. His chest is lighter. "Aye aye cap." He gives a half hearted mock salute. What he means to say is thank you.

He's pretty sure Bobby hears it anyway.

On the way home, at a red light stop, a jeep comes to a halt next to his car. A guy leans out of the window and asks for directions to the LAFD training academy. He's young. Bright smile, short blond hair. Tommy tells him where to go and the guy thanks him profusely. "Starting a new chapter," he says enthusiastically and adjusts his backwards hat. Out of his stereo Tommy can hear hip hop blaring. Eminem. "Me, too" Tommy shouts back and watches the lights switch to orange. "Good luck then!" the guy shouts over the revving engine and grins. "See you around!"

Tommy laughs.

"You, too!"

Lights turn green.

[redwinelewis]

LIKE A MERCEDES | LH44

type social media au

pairing lewis hamilton x chinese!reader

face claim lexie liu

song like a mercedes by lexie liu

summary in which lewis' singer girlfriend is part of the f1 the movie soundtrack

warnings none i think idk

author's note super short one bcs i've been wanting to write a smau with this song and lewis ❤️

english is not my first language. all pictures taken from instagram, pinterest and twitter. credit to owners.

masterlist

INSTAGRAM!

f1 and 5 others

liked by lewishamilton, roses_are_rosie and 1,836,938 others

f1 Here's the lineup for F1: The Movie soundtrack with a special track from two more mysterious acts 🏎️ Available June 27.

#F1 #F1TheAlbum

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user TATE????

user user ln4 x t8 agenda continues to spread we love to see it

user DOJA?? ROSÉ???? TATE???????

user who are these people

user the way i only recognize like 2 of these singers

user MADISON BEER OMFG

user wait mysterious acts?

user LEWIS LIKED

user user everyday i manifest for an xnda comeback

user i wonder if lewis produces the soundtrack as well

user user dear god pls

yourinstagram

📍 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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yourinstagram do me, you don’t have to do me properly

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user RARE LEWIS SIGHTING ON Y/N'S POST

user okay freaky

user HIS BACK 🫦

yourinstagram user behave

user y/n feed your children we're starving for a new album

user i love how she brags about her bf

user user i mean it's sir lewis hamilton. i would do the same.

user user real

user third pic is so bf lewis coded

user THE DRESS OMFG

user sir lewis can u fight

flavy.barla that dress 😍😍

lewishamilton

📍 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

liked by charles_leclerc, francolapinto and 2,826,314 others

lewishamilton 與你一路飛馳緊握著方向盤

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user ok what is up with the caption

user user a vacation in brazil and he wrote the caption in mandarin he's so random 😭😭

user user i mean his gf is chinese right

user can someone tell me what the caption means the translate button isn't working

user user "Feeling like going on a joyride with you through the night" something like that

user user .... is this a lyric?

yourinstagram not fair!!!! that's my favourite part!!!!

yourinstagram yourinstagram and i told you not to post the fourth pic lew!!!!

lewishamilton yourinstagram You used my favourite part as well. And I love that photo

user yourinstagram lewishamilton HELLO WHAT'S GOING ON??????

user yourinstagram lewishamilton are yall teasing us a new single with those captions? 🤨

yourinstagram user no (yes)

user yourinstagram AHSKSHSHSJSKSH WHAT

yourinstagram

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yourinstagram but you already know what i'm about to say 👀 LIKE A MERCEDES, my new single from F1: The Movie soundtrack featuring the one and only xnda is out now 🏎️

i have always admired lewis, on and off track. he is as passionate about music as he is about racing and making this song with him has been such an amazing experience. i hope you all love this song as much as we had fun making it ❤️

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user OH I FUCKING KNEW IT

user FEATURING LEWIS??????

user XNDA IS BACKKKKKK

user is this a dream can somebody pinch me rn

user a new xnda song in the year of our lord 2025

user user "thank you y/n" we all say in unison

user this is everything to me btw

user this song is gonna be the only good thing from that fuck ass film

georgerussell63 Hell yeah! Let's go! 🙌🏻🔥

yourinstagram georgerussell63 thank you george! ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux song of the year ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram alexandrasaintmleux i love you ❤️❤️

tatemcrae a bop

lewishamilton and xnda

liked by yourinstagram, f1 and 7,836,644 others

lewishamilton Say less

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user KMS POSTPONED

user whoremilton is back

user user we cheer

user i'm still processing the lyrics

user user this feels like "pipe" all over again

user his gf is so lucky 💔

user user thank you

yourinstagram user 🤨🤨

user user my bad queen 🙏🏽

yourinstagram you're so fucking amazing

lewishamilton yourinstagram Right back at ya darling

user lewishamilton DARLING 💗🩷🌷🌸♥️❣️❤️💘💖💝💞💟

user lewishamilton oh to be called darling by lewis hamilton

user this is already the best song from that movie

redwinelewis producing the film about the sport he conquered AND creates a song for its soundtrack.... sir lewis hamilton everybody ✨

[tawghasa]

I endorse all of this.

I had to change careers in my early 30s (grant-gunded research scientist + four years of no grants in my speciality = redundancy with no hiring opportunities). Here are a few things I learned from that journey:

Consider doing the same job for a different employer. I spent 5 years working for a lab that, in retrospect, had a really terrible workplace culture. I got a position in another lab in the same institute, and the experience was a LOT better.

(It was still rough at times, due to the bullshit I had internalised clashing with similar bullshit my lab supervisor had internalised. But I cried in the bathrooms WAY less.)

There can be a LOT of jobs that are tangentially related to your current job, that no one in your current job is really aware of. Or if they are aware, they overestimate the barriers to getting there.

(E.g., I moved from medical research into intellectual property. I assumed that you would need some kind of legal background for that... But nope!)

On a related note, be sceptical of any career advice you get from people at your hell-job. If they haven't gotten out themselves, they are sharing conjecture, not facts.

Most people have bad resumes and weak cover letters/responses to selection criteria. I highly recommend checking out Askamanager.org, in particular this masterpost of advice for resumes and cover letters. Alison also has a guide for preparing for job interviews that I've used with success (it's free when you sign-up to her mailing list. I think I've gotten maybe two e-mails in the six years since I signed up to get the free pdf).

Being older can be a benefit in the workplace. Some recent hires at my job are in their 50s, and were REALLY surprised they made the cut... But they both have so much experience under their belts, they're very familiar with the norms of a 9-to-5 job, etc. (They're also less likely to look for another job before they retire than younger hires.)

Also, you just know more stuff. You have more experience in having a job, talking to people, doing things. You have more years under your belt of troubleshooting, finding easier workflows, cleaning up messes.

E.g., I hated my time in retail but I know a LOT about how to talk to people: how to give someone bad news without them yelling at me, how to tell them they stuffed up without them yelling at me, how to tell them I stuffed up without them yelling at me...

I have an excellent phone manner and a "customer-centric commitment to issue resolution" which has been a huge asset in both of my post-retail careers - but neither of those jobs had any kind of intentional training/mentoring in those areas! Those are skills I developed in THE shittiest supermarket in South Australia while developing bone damage in my feet because I was standing for 10 hours a day.

A few other bits of advice:

It's hard to be productive outside of work when you work a terrible job that is corroding your soul. It's hard to write a good resume/apply to further education/whatever when you hate your job and you're exhausted and everything is pointless. Don't beat yourself up if it takes longer than you'd like to get anything done.

Make things easier for yourself by asking for/accepting help. Use the Ask A Manager resources, ask friends and family (ideally ones who have jobs they like) to help you with your job search and your application materials.

(Are we mutuals? Do you want some help with a resume? Send me a DM. I can also hop on a Discord call and chat with you about interview prep and technique.)

Try to start prepping now, BEFORE the dream opportunity crosses your path. It's easier to have an up-to-date master resume that you can tailor to the role, than to scramble to pull one together the night applications close.

Reddit can actually be really helpful. There are subreddits for a lot of careers/industries, with posts every few months asking how to either break in or get out. They can also be a good place to ask what the day-to-day is like in a career you're thinking of switching to, which can help you identify any skills you already have that would be an asset/consider whether you'd enjoy the reality of the job. Keep in mind that it's all subjective, and no two people's experiences will be the same.

If you've read this far, try to find time to update your resume this weekend. Even if you like your current job. (That's usually the best time to look at other jobs - you're not desperate, so you're in a strong position to negotiate any offers.) Because if you've read this far through a thread about changing jobs/careers, you're probably interested on some level in doing the thing.

I’m thinking of doing a complete career switch- or at the very least, making an attempt to start it- and the idea is frightening for so many reasons- money, feeling like I’m behind, insecurity, family- but then i think of just sticking to the path I’m on and it sends me into a crying fit so. I think I’m going to have to be brave

Be brave! I changed industries at age 41 and it was so good for both my career and mental health.

It sounds silly to have to outright say, but if the thought of going to your current job makes you cry every day, it is time to LEAVE. You are not the first person I have had to give this advice to this week. The longer you stay in a dead-end job, the more your skills will rust and the inertia will drag you down.

It feels frightening, but you can get through the imposter syndrome by becoming a thorough note taker (assuming you are white collar, but a lot of this also applies to blue):

Capture every conversation you have

Immediately distill meetings and emails into to-do lists

Review your to-dos daily

Most importantly: write down your accomplishments, no matter how small, at the end of every week

Notes by hand helped me so much, and my little treat to keep going was to begin a fresh mini-notebook every 2 weeks, which I could decorate with ink stamps and washing tape. I used a different color gel pen every day, too. My notebooks were fun and super helpful with keeping me organized.

You will catch up soon enough. It sucks to be an older person in a junior role, but you will be more mature and hopefully adept at handling work drama. I hit senior at age 47 after doing my time, and now I'm pretty indistinguishable from the folks who beat me here.

People aren't meant to do the same thing for all their lives, if it means sacrificing other opportunities. It's ok to say goodbye to a career or hobby or whatever else, to make room for something new. Don't feel guilty sampling from life. Specialization is for insects.

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #49 | 6.24.25 ๋࣭⭑

bb i did fckn WORK THIS MONTH U LITERALLY DONT EVEN KNOWWWWWW (but now u will)

MONTHLY DEVLOG TIME!!!

And I have been EAGER FOR THIS ONE. When I say I locked THE FUCK in this month..... OUGGHHHHH.... LET ME SHOW YOU!!!

This month, we had the usual progress on Kuna'a's dev edits (slow but steady) and Etza's line edits. But ON TOP of those edits going on in the background w the editing team, I also had time to go through every single route in the EA build and do the final edits on them. Just to give context, this means I edited 200k words this month, AND BOY WAS IT WORTH IT.

This editing journey included A LOT of things, not just little tweaks to wording here and there. It included polishing the prose, really strengthening character voices, adding more personality branches/choices, and A LOT of reworking for different scenes that I was okay with, but not completely happy with, in the beta versions of the individual routes. On top of reworking scenes, a lot of the routes also got some extra tiny scenes to showcase more cast dynamics, AND because I implemented a shiny new communicator system (which I'll talk about later), there's a lot more messaging conversations going on that I think add a lot more fun and character to your interactions with different LIs.

sneak peek of a new chat convo as an example

I'm really, really, really happy with the writing of the routes now. The characters feel stronger, scenes feel more organic and natural, and the pacing feels much more intentional. And overall the routes just feel a lot more fun!! While I don't think the writing was bad, by any means, before, I do think it's a lot stronger and cohesive now!

I was also able to calculate word counts across routes within the game script, using a Lint feature by another dev. It was a lifesaver because Google Docs gave me just an estimate, but by calculating the word counts within Ren'Py, I have a more accurate word count across the routes. Using this, I adjusted different routes so that the word count is much more even and there's no one route that feels significantly longer than another!

If you think I was making cracked progress on writing, ehehehhee.......................... WAIT UNTIL I TELL YOU ABOUT THIS!!!!

First art accomplishment: I finished THREE sprites for the game!!! (so I only have TWO left now!!!!). I'll showcase one here since I've featured them before, actually. A long, long time ago for those who were here during the Kickstarter ages.

everyone, meet KILUM

Kilum was a stretch goal to have their own route. Unfortunately (for you, but fortunately for me LMAOOOO), we didn't meet that stretch goal. You might remember they look a bit different from the original concept art, and that's because I reworked their color palette after finishing the rest of the Dusk Court's characters so that side of the cast looked a little more cohesive. I'm in love with their design (thanks to bestie @/saffein-e as always), and I hope you're excited to meet them in game! They are certainly A Character!

The other two sprites I finished were actually our two queens HEEH. You will not be meeting them, sorry! Guess you'll have to wait for EA to drop \o/ Anyways, I was really nervous about finishing the sprites in time for the EA build since I had 5 sprites to make, and before this month I had only finished 2 sprites in the span of like 4 years aofsdjaiosjdfaiojsdfioajsdf. So I'm really proud of myself for the sprite progress this month (I always hate making sprites)!

sneak peek feat. eyes. my beautiful children....

We also made CG progress. A LOT of CG progress HEHEHE. Before this month, I had only finished about 26 CGs and that was over the course of like 2 years. That being said, that was while balancing coding beta routes, writing routes, editing, and whatever else I had going on. Now, because I'm locked in on art progress, we have.... *drumroll please*....... 38 CGS FINISHED!!! And that is actually ALL of the ones we need to have done for the EA build!!! So this month, on top of sprite and editing progress, I also finished 12 CGs YEEEAAAAAAAAAA.

Finally, I made some headway on other things this month: one of the biggest being a revamp of the communicator.

my children..... stop fighting....

Big thank you to (@/robobarbie and @/windchimesgames) for the messaging system asset HEHE. now in the game, you will be able to have separate chats for each character and group chats!! I'm still ironing out some kinks with the system and figuring out how to best implement it in the game, but for now, here's a sneak peek of what it's looking like!!!

We also have finally reached a point where we can move forward with voice acting in the game!!! I'll be preparing the lines to send out to the VAs over the next couple of days, but it's so exciting to reach this point since VA is usually what i associate with the Final Stages of production.

I've played a couple of games recently but honestly, so much of my time has been dedicated to Alaris that I haven't had time to do anything like fanart. It's been an ALARIS MONTH BABY!!!

CGs and sprites were the biggest things that I was worried about finishing on time, and given the amount of progress I made on them this month, I think we're in really good shape for EA release!!!

All that's really left for me to do with both editing and like 85% of the art assets out of the way are to finish up the last two character sprites, flesh out the sprite expressions and code those in, and VA! After that, it'll be cleaning for bugs and polishing, so I'm extremely ecstatic over EA progress this past month and hope you all are excited to have it in your hands Very Soon! ^^

Until next time, hopefully I'll bring more exciting news then. Stay cool, especially for those getting hit by the heat waves and general summer heat! <3

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

At risk of sounding like a warhawk, I feel like a ceasefire will just put a lid on this problem for a few years at most, after which we'll be right back where we started.

It depends, really. Where at the point where nothing more can really be done with bombings. If we want to enact regime change, we need boots on the ground and neither Trump or Israel are willing to do that. Which is the right choice, because regime changes through invasion rarely work out as intended and we don't need to be putting American soldiers directly in harm's way for this. But the last two years have completely changed Iran's position in the middle east.

Before, they had multiple proxy forces. Syria, Hamas, the Houthis, Hezbollah. Syria fell and the new government is no friend to Iran. In fact they allowed Israel into their airspace to bomb Iran. Hamas is all but destroyed and has no ability to attack Israel. Same with Hezbollah. Same with the Houthis. Iran no longer has any insulation. Iran's nuclear capability has been destroyed. All their infrastructure is gone and most of their nuclear scientists are dead. It will be years before they can even think about getting a bomb, and meanwhile Israel has shown that they can destroy 20 years of nuclear build up in about a week and also infiltrate Iran at will, since many of the strikes Israel carried out were carried out wither by, or with information gathered, by Mossad agents in Iran who have been there for months. All the Iranian military leaders are dead. The mullah's regime gets its legitimacy by claiming to be divinely ordained to not just rule Iran, but to usher in the apocalypse so Islam can win and rule the world. They talk of the great honor of martyrdom yet the supreme leader just spent the last two weeks cowering in a bunker, and everyone knows it. Iran hasn't been this weak in generations. Even if the people( many of whom hate the current regime), don't rise up, the Ayatollah will be fighting off anyone in his regime that senses that weakness and wants to grab power for themselves. They're also surrounded by Muslim countries of a different Islamic sect, and both Russia and China, their greatest global allies, have shown that they won't come to Iran's aid against the US or Israel. Putin basically told them "sorry, you've got the wrong number" and China didn't even pick up the phone.

All this means Iran is no longer the threat they used to be. And they won't regain that position for a long time. Maybe never. Obviously the best outcome is the people rise up, overthrow the Islamic theocracy, and institute a modern secular republic. But even if that doesn't happen, the world is safe for a long time and the biggest impediment to the current trend towards westernization and stabilized relations with Israel in the middle east has been defanged. There's a very real chance that, no matter what happens internally with Iran, we might see real peace and stability in the middle east.

Either way, a massive problem has been solved long term, and we didn't lose a single American life in the process. That's definitely something to celebrate, and it's one of the most competent and effective pieces of governing I've ever seen.

[prythian-angel-doll]

You Are The Cause of My Euphoria (Azriel x OC fic)

Hi, beautiful peoples. I've written sporadically over the years but my love for ACOTAR and specifically one special bat boy has inspired me to put one of my own works out there. Please enjoy and leave me feedback, it will be a slowburn angsty fic with more to come so please be patient! MWAH

_________________________________________________

Anwyn (On-win) is the younger bastard half-sister of the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She's spent the past four centuries sheltered and hidden in the Day Court, where she would assist her distant family when they saw fit. Now that the war is over, she has been invited to join the Court of Dreams in Velaris. A lifetime of rejection and isolation from her people leave Anwyn confused and unsure. These feelings are only complicated by her friendship with Rhysand's personal spy, Azriel, whomst Anwyn has always kept in the back of her mind. How will she navigate life in a new court, with different customs, whose people are closer to her own brother than she is?

______________________________________________________________

Thump, thump. My heavy luggage crashed against the cobblestone walkway as I exhaled deeply, regretting my decision to winnow in a distance away and walk the rest of the way to my brother and sister-in-law’s new estate. I needed that time to collect my thoughts - what would I say when they opened the doors? Hi, sorry I’ve been hiding away for the past three years, I didn’t want to complicate things for you further, Feyre! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Also, can I see my nephew? Or, I know my birth caused great shame upon my family but I would love to reenter your lives and act like nothing happened! I cringed and decided that neither option was befitting of the bastard princess of the night court and chose to go off the cuff based on whomever answers my knock. “Cauldron, where has the time gone?” I muttered at the ground, bouncing from one foot to the other, as I waited for a response on the other side of the manor door. 

The door swung open with a violent fury, hinges hissing and groaning despite the young age of their construction. The person on the other side of the doorway immediately drew an eyeroll from me. Cassian. He stood leaning against the frame, a wicked smirk plastered on his admittedly handsome and rugged face. “Well, it’s about time you showed up. I was beginning to think that you’d hide away in Helion’s chambers for all of eternity” he said, smirking wider and wider as the seconds droned on. “Funny. I’ve spent just about as much time in his chambers as you have. He should be so lucky to even have a shot at me. Glad to see you as well,” I retort. I kicked at my suitcases, a notion for the large Illyrian to take them inside for me. I had always found Cassian to be an attractive male - tanned, muscled, always ready for a challenge. He’d come and visit the Day Court when Rhys had sent him as my private instructor, teaching me the fighting style of the Illyrians. I wasn’t Illyrian myself - I had no wings, no blood ties to the fighting race of warriors. My mother was not one of them, one of Rhys’s mother’s kind. His mother’s death spawned a heightened fear in my brother and instilled an urgency to make sure I could protect myself should anyone discover my true identity within the Day Court. 

Cassian picked up my belongings in one fell swoop, throwing the trunks over each shoulder without so much as breaking a sweat. I followed him in, drawing in a breath as I entered the foyer. The estate was marvelous. I lived in a luxurious apartment in the Day Court, furnished how I liked and changed when I had even the slightest mood swing. I didn’t quite know how to feel about my brother’s home. This was a home, something I have never had. I could see myself calling this home, eventually. “Nesta and I thought about staying here, but two mated pairs under the same roof would probably reduce this whole block to rubble” Cassian trailed on, not bothering to make sure I was behind him as he continued through the entry hall, striding towards the stairs. I heard from Rhys that Cass and Feyre’s older sister Nesta had joined into a mating bond. Rhys’s icy words for Nesta coincidentally had brought me relief - surely she would be the one to bring his ego down a notch. That’s a perfect match in my book. “I’d love to chat with you about our love lives, Cass, but I would very much like to see Rhysand and Feyre. Where are they?” I said, looking around the hall. It was oddly quiet for a weekday afternoon, though I supposed the duties of High Lord and High Lady of the Court of Dreams required non-stop work and correspondences. Cassian sat the trunks down surprisingly gingerly. Two shadowy figures appeared in the shapes of women; they each collected a trunk and then disappeared once more. Cassian’s lack of reaction told me that these must be servants of a sort, or a cruel prank I’d have to sort out later. He bent his head to the right, motioning towards the long hallway. I peered down the expansive hall - portraits and landscapes adorned the walls in varying sizes and tones. People I knew - Mor, in her ephemeral grace; Amren, a non-chalant muse. “At the end of the hall is the family room - they’re waiting for you” Cassian said, “I’ll come by later on, I’ve got some business in a camp close by”. I nodded a thanks and he strode away and out of the house, no doubt wanting to use his wings to fly into the camp he had to attend to. 

I reached the end of the hallway in what felt like hours. So many images to take in - prized pieces constructed by my sister-in-law. The woman I hid from for two years, a drop in the water compared to the four hundred years in isolation. These past two years stung more, knowing that I couldn’t meet my brother’s mate, couldn’t be a part of their lives directly, continuing to live the same lie everyday. I helped in any way I could before that final battle. I gathered intel, scoured the libraries for any information, negotiated with any court that may have needed extra convincing. My position as an advisor to Helion assisted me with the latter effort. And when it came time to fight, I was there. I went against Rhys’s orders, but I arrived with Helion’s army and blended in amongst the hordes. I fought with all my strength and only informed my brother after the fact - after his resurrection. I shook those thoughts from my mind as I reached the door at the end, the family room. Well, here goes nothing I thought to myself as I wrenched on the door and pushed it open, much like ripping off the bandage you knew deep down you were scared to remove. 

Feyre sat in a settee next to the marbled fireplace on the opposite side of the room; Rhysand positioned next to her, leaning against the armrest. I walked into the room a couple of steps, not quite sure how to begin this reunion and first meeting. My sister-in-law broke the silence quickly, without awkwardness. A true High Lady. “Welcome home, Anwyn. It’s nice to finally meet you after all this time. Rhys has told me so much already” Feyre said, her voice carrying a melody that my ears relaxed at. I smiled - it was earnest, something I didn’t throw to anyone unless I also gave it with a kick in the balls or a punch in the gut. I dipped my head low, attempting to give my High Lady my respects, though it still felt so foreign to be here. “Thank you Feyre. This has been overdue and I have so much to say and tell to you,” I reply, shaking off the inkling of nerves I carried in. I felt more at ease as the seconds passed. “Maybe I should start with some stories about my and Rhysand’s drinking escapades in the Day Court a couple centuries back?” Rhys’s still face finally changed, switching out for a look that balanced between shock and embarrassment. “Anie. Please, let’s not spoil all the fun in one night. You surely have plenty of time to embarrass us all, including yourself. I’m glad to see you arrived in one piece. And, welcome home - this was indeed overdue” he said at last. I rolled my eyes and smirked as I closed the distance to embrace my brother. Centuries of distance and isolation saw that our relationship became strained and contentious at times. Two siblings with different hardships, different customs, different upbringings. Our mutual link proved to be more powerful than our differences and we reconciled with that - our father, the former High Lord of the Night Court, prowled our subconscious and shaped the personalities we formed throughout our long immortal lives. 

Rhysand and his court had sporadically me during my isolation over the creeping four centuries that have passed since I was brought into this world kicking and screaming. Bastard I was branded, the daughter of the High Lord of the Night Court and a handmaiden to the Consort. I will never know the whole truth of my conception. The story told to me countless times was that my father, freshly reeling from Rhys’s mother’s rejection, grew so angry that despite the intact mating bond, sought out my mother and bedded her for a month straight. I knew that my father loved Rhys’s mother - it had completely consumed him from the inside. My mother was a trusted friend of hers, she had confided in my mother many secrets over the years of her servitude. Sometimes I wonder if my mother welcomed him into her bed as a relief to the Illyrian queen - surely it was known that she had little love for the Lord of the Night Court. Thus, 30 years after my brother, I was born unto the world. We shared the same violet blue eyes, but not much else. My snow white hair and winter pale skin juxtaposed Rhysand’s dark complexion. I secretly admired the aura of his complexion, knowing that it must have been drawn from his mother - I would never see that hue on my own skin. 

We spent the next fifteen minutes catching up, making sure I threw in some playful jabs to Rhys and his court while I recounted my time in Helion’s court. Feyre listened with cheerful intent, soaking in all that I had to tell. I knew that we would become close sisters - solidified by her roaring laughter during my monologue about Rhysand stealing one of Helion’s pegasuses for the night. Or perhaps two. Helion came into my apartment in a rage, sending books and goblets crashing against the walls. The shocking bright lights exuding from Helion sent us into a blind frenzy but it couldn’t dull our laughter as we sat cross legged in front of the High Lord’s prized winged mare, which was grazing on the many carrots we had purchased at the market. These were the memories I had clung to during the time my brother was under the mountain, with Amorantha controlling him and so many others I had grown up to know.

 “Where is my nephew? Where is Nyx?” I asked eagerly. As much as I wanted to talk to Rhys and Feyre, I knew that I had eternity to swap stories and exchange information. To see my nephew as an infant, barely walking and babbling incoherently? I would only have a few years at most, given the maturation rate of High Fae. “Oh we’re so glad to see you as well, Wynnie” Rhys chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Surely enough, he had understood this as well. Feyre smiled and looked at him - I only saw pure love and devotion in their shared glance. “He’s upstairs with Azriel. Az has been entertaining him while we get some work done. His own tasks have come up fewer and fewer while we are at a certain level of peace, despite the unrest in Illyria”. Azriel I choked out in my head. Mother watched over me. I had taken many lovers within many courts during my time with Helion and his court - our travels took us to all the varying courts throughout the realm. Many men had the opportunity to share the bed with the bastard princess of the Night Court - though none of them were talented enough for me to keep them in my life. I'd never bedded Azriel. I’ve never engaged in anything with him besides the exchange of polite pleasantries when he would visit the Day Court. Rhysand would send him to me to glean any information which any of the vast libraries could have contained based on what was needed. Azriel spent a deal of time with me, gathering books, learning the weaknesses of the males from other courts - he didn’t ask how I had gathered that specific intel. I never thought of Azriel as anything more than my brother’s errand boy - that was, until that night many years ago. I shook the thought out of mind. Not now. We didn’t see each other for a year afterwards, and only on the occasional trek out to my ward would he grace me with himself. Years passed, and I pushed him out of my mind. A silly crush, very simple. Black and white. The strong and silent Illyrian warrior once blessed my dreams with soothing kisses and longing stares. Sometimes those dreams gave way to other interactions more primal, more seductive and toe curling. 

“I’ll go see him now then, while he’s awake” I said, glancing back towards the door I entered nearly an hour ago at this point. It was certainly not the time for those sorts of devious thoughts. I hadn’t seen Az in almost three years, but I had never seen my young nephew - and now I was growing impatient. Rhysand stood from his leaning position once more, resting his hand on Feyre’s. “Go ahead upstairs. Feyre and I have to finish some paperwork for a restoration project over in the Rainbow - we’ll give you the grand tour of Velaris soon enough. Nyx’s wing is to the of the staircase, at the end of the hallway” Rhys said, never moving a muscle away from his mate. I looked at them both - a portrait of not only love, but of immense power and tact. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t envy my brother. His found mate, his chosen and found family after such loss. Did he still consider me as a part of his family? Surely, if he invited me back here, right? I’m safe now, no more outliers to concern myself with regarding the plots against Rhysand’s life and his circle. “We’ll meet later for dinner. I was thinking we’d go to my favorite restaurant - the food is prepared and spiced to perfection by a wonderful woman” Feyre said. I smiled and crossed my arms “That sounds great to me - I’d love to judge the cuisine of Velaris against the Day Court. Helion would love to see that report”. The inner advisor of me found it hard to turn off my former role - reporter to the High Lord. He would be amused to see such a report cross his desk, though surely he would never concede to Velaris championing the better selection of culinary cuisine. Rhys chuffed a laugh and they winnowed out a minute later after exchanging formalities once more - it would take a week or two more for the familial links to set in, hopefully. 

Taking a deep breath, I climbed the sweeping stairs. By the mother, they really outdid themselves with this mansion. I can practically see my reflection in the floors as well, I uttered internally. I knew the wealth of the Night Court was immense, my own salary provided to me by Rhys was more than enough to allow me a life of pleasure and indulgence should i have chosen it. The river house was a testament to not only the power and intensity of the High Lord and Lady, but to their love and devotion to the city they called home - and would call home for eternity. I reached the end of the hallway once more as I unwrapped myself from my thoughts. I wondered which room was to be mine - where the shadowy women had dropped off my possessions. Unlatching the door softly, I slowly opened the door, peering into the bright lightly colored room. 

Nyx sat in the center of the room. He could hold himself upright in a seated position, and I kicked myself for not being able to be here earlier when he was smaller, more incapable of such feats. He was in the middle of a selection of toys; different shaped animals and rattles and orbs of moving light - all encompassed by meandering and dancing waves of pure shadow. I knew those shadows. They had once cooed around me, I felt their lingering presence many times over the centuries, never fearing them, always wanting to let them in closer. I did not allow them such liberties though. I took one step into the room and then I saw him. I was barely able to pick up on his scent, his presence nearly absent in Nyx’s nursery room. Azriel sat on a rocking chair behind Nyx. His dark short hair tussled haphazardly around, like Nyx may have given it a rapture while they played. His white tunic complemented the golden hue of his skin, only brightened by the sapphire siphons on his heavy gauntlets. He looked up at me, an unreadable expression on his face. What was he thinking of? Will I ever be able to tell? I stood there, half in shock of seeing my own kin on the floor, half in shock of seeing my brother’s trusted spy in here acting as a babysitter. 

“Hello, Anwyn” 

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End of Chapter One