#LOOK AT THIS!!!!!!!! IT'S 1 AM AND I AM EMOTIONAL

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 8

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

The walk to Sylus’ room is reminiscent of one to the gallows. You’ve seen those walks in people’s souls, how each step makes their throat tighten more and how they seem to mentally wait for each heartbeat to come. Like every step or every breath or ever beat is going to be their last.

That’s the only way you can think of to describe how you feel right now. A place that once meant safety and comfort to you has been tainted. It’s been warped, smeared, and destroyed in a way that a you from a few weeks ago would’ve never imagined.

Because now, you’re walking there with fear. Fear of Sylus of all people. Your partner in crime. Your confidant. Your closest friend. Your Morana.

You don’t want to think of him this way. Far from it. But Miss Hunter’s words, her shaky tone and fidgety hands, make you this way. The chaos of emotions in her threads make you this way. Everything about how she was when describing her time with Sylus make you this way.

Modification of her Evol.

You know very well what those words mean. You know what it looks like, feels like. You know all of this because it’s woven into her soul.

And her own soulmate tried to do that to her. Tried to split her open. Try to warp her and smear her and destroy what makes her her.

Rage and betrayal and whole other slew of emotions boil up inside of you. Each step makes you wonder when you’ll explode, when you’ll break from all of this.

You try to combat this with each breath. Each deep, hard-fought, breath. You try to embrace a wave of calm, to tamper down the craziness and be who you normally are: in control.

Nothing helps. Nothing works. And before you know it, you’re knocking at that accursed bedroom door.

Since when am I so polite with him?

A weak laugh escapes your lips. You stifle it down the moment the door begins to open.

Sylus is disheveled, an odd sight for someone who can look put together even in the middle of a gun fight. He just stares at you. His eyes refuse to leave yours, as if you’ll vanish if he so much as blinks.

It’s awkward, strained. An uncomfortable atmosphere that hasn’t been between you two in years. You can’t stand it.

“May I come in? I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Sylus says nothing. He looks deeply uncomfortable. It’s subtle, something most wouldn’t notice. But you’ve known him far too long. The slight flicker in his eyes down to the way he walks tells you everything. He’s off. He’s lost.

Not that you’re much different. Your tone earlier was cold, professional, and distant. Entirely lacking the usual playfulness or joy you’d have from simply interacting with Sylus.

You quickly step in his room once he moves aside for you. You don’t spare Sylus a glance. Any further looks would just deter you from your task.

This cannot go on.

Sylus’ treatment of Miss Hunter weighs on you. If you thought it was bad before, it’s far, far, worse now. Experiments? Changing her Evol? Scaring her so much she subconsciously rejects her own soulmate?

It’s arguable the worst start to any love story you’ve ever heard or seen. And you have more experience with that than anyone. You see them in every thread. You hear them in every soul.

All except mine.

You stare at Sylus’ empty bed to distract yourself from that rabbit hole of emotions, one you’re familiar with. You walk towards the bed. But you don’t sit on it. Rather, you just trace mindless patterns into the sheets to calm yourself.

Eventually, you turn to face the man whose room you stand in. Sylus stands with his back on the door. The lock is turned shut. And his arms are crossed, as if he’s shielding himself from you.

Since when were you two like this: weary and afraid of one another? After the argument today? After the one a few days ago? When Miss Hunter arrived? Or was it always there, brewing silently beneath your soft touches and charming smiles?

Whatever the case, you’ve never quite felt such distance from Sylus. You stand in the same room you two have shared for god knows how long, looking right at each other. And yet, you couldn’t be farther apart.

You tap your fingers on the bed like you did the night before Miss Hunter arrived. Tap. Tap. Tap. It’s the only sound that fills your ears until Sylus finally speaks.

“Can I explain now?”

To anyone else, his tone would be calm, demanding, and dripping with that usual hint of arrogance that he has. To you, he practically begs. Screams, even.

He only does that rarely. Like earlier today during your argument after your collapse. Which, given that specific context, made sense. Sylus was out of rhythm. His emotions were chaotic. He does care for you, after all. And you had just screamed your lungs out and passed out in front of him.

Who wouldn’t be shaken by that even a little?

You think over your next words for a moment, pushing that memory of your mind. What is there to explain? You’ve heard everything from Miss Hunter. You know what he tried to do.

Old wounds open up the more you think about it. The pinpricks of needles. Your home becoming a revolving door of doctors when you had no sign of a soulmate by age 10. The increasing prevailing sense of something being wrong with you the longer it went on.

They’re phantom pains, echoes of a past that only emerges when you sleep. They’re ghosts you tell no one about. They’re wounds that only you have ever dressed.

What was done to you was done in good faith. Much like what Sylus did. You could see it in his soul, see it in his thread. And it told you he wanted her to remember. He wanted his sorceress back at any cost.

But you wanted here his words. His interpretations and thoughts from his own mouth.

“Go ahead,” you gesture with your hand.

So Sylus does explain. Just not what you thought he would.

He goes into detail about his deal with Miss Hunter. About the brooch. About her search. About the twins and their pranks. About everything.

You look at him with scrutinizing eyes. You don’t search his soul; you have no need to.

In him, you find the truth and only the truth. You find no deception, no hidden meanings, nothing. It’s probably the most honest he’s been with you since Miss Hunter’s arrival.

“I never even had the brooch on me,” he chuckles a bit before he continues. “I don’t know why she ever thought I did.”

“Then where is it?”

“In your favorite book. On page 70. You know the scene.”

You absolutely do know the scene. It makes you smile even in this moment.

“Seriously? How on Earth do you expect her to know anything about my taste in literature?”

“You two spend so much time together I figured you were “besties” by now,” he says the words a great amount of sarcasm that makes you relax a bit.

It’s not much. But, you lean into the familiarity.

“Besides. Even if she didn’t know the significance of the book, I thought I’d do her a favor and introduce her to something good to read. She claims to be bored during her time here, and I wanted to be a more gracious host.”

You snort at his comment. Sylus tilts his head at you.

“What?”

You want to say, ”A gracious host? After kidnapping her and threatening her and almost turning her into a lab rat for the second time in her current life?” But you shake your head and say nothing.

Sylus seems to brush it off. His eyes soften and he takes a step towards you. When you don’t move away, he comes even closer, standing beside the foot of the bed while you stand in the same position next to the head.

“That’s all there is to what you saw. It wasn’t,” he pauses for a moment, searching for the words. “It wasn’t anything like you thought it was. Just a series of… interesting events.”

You just nod once more, turning your head to the bed again. You go back to tracing patterns in it, trying to rally yourself for the real conversation.

“Gamayun?”

You give him a quiet hum, but you don’t look up at him. You trace words into the bed, words from the scene of the book he placed the brooch in. They comfort you.

“Say something?”

You say nothing.

“What’s got you so quiet? Normally you talk my ear off, even when I’m being a fool.”

You make a hasty drag against the sheets, and the irritating sound that follows shocks both of you.

“Because I’m not here about what you just talked about and you know it.”

Or, at least, he should know it. He should know that him taking Miss Hunter to Philip is why you’re here. He should know why you’re so angry about him doing that. He should know.

He should know because he knows you were the one to find the twins. Two boys in agony, one covered in crystals. Children suffering because of selfish adults. Just like Sylus did. Just like Miss Hunter did. Just like you did.

The logical part of you knows that his goals for what he did weren’t anything like the ones that got the twins in that state. But, the other part of you, the one that made you come here, won’t listen.

That part of you remembers all those doctors. It remembers the padded rooms and the repeated cycles of accusations. It remembers the fear. It remembers the pain. And it remembers when you finally decided to run from all that.

That part of you is loud. It’s loud, it’s obnoxious, and it wants to cry. It wants to shed vicious tears and wretched sobs. But it doesn’t. It can’t. Because it wasn’t listened to in the past.

Why would this time be any different?

Because Sylus isn’t them, you remind yourself.

He’d listen to you. He has to listen to you. Sylus is a flawed man, not a monster. He’s a desperate and flawed man who just wants the love of all his lives back. He’s a desperate and flawed man who made a mistake.

And he has to know that, right?

“Than why are you here right now, my sweet Gamayun? Surely not to repeat the earlier interesting series of events? Or maybe go even further?”

“You’re deflecting,” you say immediately.

His usual jokes don’t make you flustered. Instead, they make you angrier as he avoids what you need yet again.

“That’s not an answer, sweetie.”

Something in you snaps. Maybe it’s the use of an old nickname. Maybe it’s due to another deflection. Maybe it’s both.

Either the case, you finally address the dreadful elephant in the room, “Why did you bring her to Philip?”

You ask because you want him to admit it himself. Hearing him say the words, the man you’ve loved for over a year, rather than Miss Hunter, the soulmate of said man, will makes things clearer.

Maybe it’ll undo the knot in your stomach and the dread that courses through your veins. Maybe his explanation will make the phantom needles go away, and drown out the screams of your precious boys.

Part of you knows that neither will happen. The other, more optimistic and the one that clings to your love, begs for something otherwise.

All that hopes drains away when you see the color leave Sylus’ face. His color seeps away at the same pace as your fleeting hope.

Oh God, what did you do, Sylus?

Miss Hunter didn’t give you any details. You can only speculate. But with this severe of reaction, especially coming from Sylus (who’s done a lot of questionable shit that he knows you’d never judge him for), you’re not sure you can handle the answer.

Miss Hunter avoiding your questions and looking apprehensive to tell you anything is one thing. Sylus doing it is a whole other can of worms. You steel your heart for whatever happens next.

“We weren’t resonating. I thought there was a problem with her. There isn’t, so we left.”

It’s about the same thing she told you. Enough to give you the gist. Enough to explain her fear and her discomfort. But not enough to explain Sylus’. Not nearly enough, given everything he’s seen and been through in both of his lives.

So you push, “Did you two rehearse your excuses, or did you both conveniently give me the same nonsense in hopes I wouldn’t press? Whatever the case, you ought to practice lying to me better.”

Sylus appears unaffected by your words. You, of course, know better. The slight knit of his brows, the way he holds himself and leans a tad more to one side. He’s so obvious to you that it’s painful.

“You really going to lie to me again, Sylus? After what happened last time?”

That full on makes him flinch. Your heart wavers as a result. That was a low blow. You both know that. And yet, you can’t back down. Because all you can see in your mind’s eye is the twins.

Luke trying to claw at his face, to etch in the same scars his brother carries. Kieran forcing himself to grow up even more as a result of that instability. The way they would both duck from mirrors, or even flat out shatter them, during those first few days.

Dozens and dozens of memories like that just sit in your mind. A weight unlike any weight you’ve ever carried. It festers there. It seeps into your veins, into your heart, and into your words.

You can’t escape it.

“What exactly are accusing us of, sweetie? Be specific. You how I hate to beat around the bush, and waste time.”

You do. And that’s exactly why you’re the negotiator of this business and not him.

Soon, she will take that place. Soon, I’ll need a new role in a new place.

“Is there anything in particular I should be accusing you of?” You counter.

“Not in my mind,” he glances you over from head to toe. “But that seems to be the case in your mind.”

A smirk crosses his lips. It’s not one of humor.

He words hit you to the core.

“That’s not an answer,” you shakily manage to get out.

“Well, if my answers aren’t satisfactory, maybe you can give me a direct question? As you say, it’s harder to avoid something if there’s no room to do so.”

That stupid smirk is still there. His eyes are still cold, colder than you’ve ever seen them directed at you.

“Did you or did you not hurt her?” You tone gets firmer the more you speak.

Sylus’ expression changes again. Not to one of humor or playfulness or anger like you expected. No, the Sylus before you was none of those right now.

He was betrayed.

“Who exactly do you think I am?”

“I don’t know!” You finally raise your voice despite all efforts not to. “I don’t know… why do you think I’m here? I need answers, Sylus. I need conformation that I’m missing something and that you didn’t do what I think you did.”

You pause for a moment, choking on your own words and emotions, “I need the truth from you. Please. I need the truth about this at the very least.”

Sylus says nothing for a moment. And you worry that this’ll be a rehash of your first fight. The fight that broke you. The fight that drove you away.

“My relationship to her isn’t your problem.”

Suddenly, you feel sick. But then, Sylus finally says something and you chase that nausea away, kicking it down with your professionalism.

“I want her gone,” he says with an odd amount of levity. “She isn’t worth the trouble she’s causing, so I pushed my plans forward ahead of schedule.”

You don’t entirely know what to say to that.

“Pardon?” You laugh a deranged laugh. “You brought her here. Why ever would you want her gone now after no progress on what ever it is that you need from her?”

“Like I said: she isn’t worth the effort. And I refuse to waste my time on useless things.”

“Useless? You have the gall, the absolute audacity, to call her useless?”

You aren’t yelling, despite how much you want to be. And that want gets stronger the amused Sylus appears.

“Why do you care so much about her, sweetie? She’s my guest, not yours.”

”Because she’s your soulmate. Because she’s the key to your happiness,” is what you want to say.

Instead, what comes out is, “Because I’ve become quite attached to her. And I find your attitude towards her appalling.”

“Of course you would, sweetie,” his voice gets quieter and softer. “Of course you would.”

Sylus gets close to you, putting his fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head upwards. You don’t resist; in fact, you embrace the small touch as much as possible.

“Because you have such a bleeding heart.”

You roll your eyes at him. Normally, Sylus says that to tease you. Like on negotiations where you spare the business partner in question. Or when you talk him down from simply killing his opponent and into seeing their usefulness. Or any of the numerous times you’ve brought in a stray animal and nursed it back to health.

He always says it in a teasing tone, almost mocking. But now, he says it with fondness.

Or love, your delusional and desperate brain says.

As soon as that thought cross your mind, you take a step back. Sylus immediately releases his hold on your chin, disappointment flashing across his face. Or, at least, that’s what you think you see.

“My heart aside,” you say to calm yourself and get your heart to stop racing. “That doesn’t change the fact that your behavior towards her has been reprehensible. Deplorable, even.”

“Why are so obsessed with her, Gamayun? Should I be jealous? She’s been tearing us apart just by being here. Don’t tell me she’s gone even further…”

He says it with jest and usual nonchalant attitude. But something in you tells you there’s more to it.

“Because of my bleeding heart, as you say,” you smile a bit before going back to a more serious expression. “And the fact that you two seem to hold so many secrets that I’m not privy too despite your less than stellar relationship.”

Suddenly, something in Sylus changes. You can’t quite put your finger on it, other than the fact that you strangely feel like prey. Like he’s hunting you or something like that. You’re on your guard. You’re waiting for him to strike.

Sylus lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re not being truthful with me either, sweetie.”

That makes you pause.

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” He takes a step closer to you, the smirk on his lips thinning and his expression shifting to a more softer one.

You don’t know exactly what’s in that smirk. Anger? Bitterness? Hurt?

Hatred? Annoyance? Grief? your thoughts whisper before you can shut them down.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Sure, sweetie,” he’s surprisingly genuine and not sarcastic with his tone. “Sure it isn’t.”

“What in the world are you going on about this time?”

Fear drips into your words. You hope it isn’t noticeable. But judging by Sylus’ face, you didn’t succeed.

I’ve lost my touch.

Being so utterly emotional for the past few days has done this to you. Made cracks in your armor that show more and more with every passing second.

Sylus reaches for you again. And you, again, accept the touch. He cradles you head, hands delicately cupping your face, thumbs rubbing your cheeks in a way he knows soothes you.

Foolish man and his foolish tenderness when you’re supposed to be angry at him.

“Your obsession with her. I’ve never seen you act this way.”

You’ve never seen me try to mend the bond between someone I love and their soulmate before. But, hey, there’s a first time for everything?

“I am not obsessed. I do not do obsessed.”

Sylus frowns. You’re the one doing the deflecting now. You’re the one using humor as a distraction now.

“Than what you call all this?” He keeps stroking your cheeks with a featherlight touch.

“Care? Empathy? Because, as you know, I have a bleeding heart.”

It’s getting harder to keep your tone light. You hope that your voice never wavers. You pray that Sylus doesn’t notice how your skin warms from embarrassment or how fast your heart rate is.

You can’t even look him the eyes. And you struggle with all your might not to squirm.

“Your bleeding heart has never gone this far. Nor made you this mad at me,” the chuckle he lets out at the end of his sentence is bitter, but his eyes are still as sweet as ever.

Every statement Sylus makes feels like he’s ripping you open more and more. Like the claws of the fiend he was has made their way around the individual bones of your ribcage and is slowly but surely prying them open. It’s like he wants to expose your heart to the world.

Your brain is beginning to fog. Your mouth is beginning to dry. And the urge to run from here is getting heavier and heavier. Your feet are glued to the ground, and at the same time, they feel like they want to take flight.

When was the last time I felt this way? When I was still back home? At the jewelry store? Or maybe my old bar job?

“Well, most people I deal with are people of the N109 Zone. They’re far more secretive and, how do you and the twins put it, murderous than little Miss Hunter.”

You speak in hopes of cutting off your own horrible train of thought. It doesn’t work very well.

So you keep talking, “Speaking of Miss Hunter, I’m no closer to having an earthly idea of why she’s here. And whatever plans you have with her seem sloppy for your standards. I’d give them negative reviews. Maybe that’s why you didn’t share them with me?”

Another crack in your armor shows with your final teasing question. A crack that Sylus sees judging by how he takes his hands off your face and a step away from you.

“Than I’ll share my ideas with you to get some feedback for a better showing next time.”

You consider your words. Because this is your chance. Your chance to be in the know. The chance to know the truth. The chance to hear from Sylus’ own lips about why he brought this woman here.

But, you’ll also have to hear about their connection. Their past. And their future as soulmates.

You couldn’t hear that. You can barely think about it and see the proof with your own eyes everyday. Hearing it… well, that’s another story.

If he had offered this before their bond, you would’ve taken it. Jumped for joy, even. But you can’t now.

I can’t hear you say that you two are soulmates. I can’t hear you talk about your destined love and what that means for your future. I can’t.

Because hearing that means I can’t lie to myself any longer.

Hearing Sylus’ conformation means you take away that last layer of protection you have, that last bit of lies you tell yourself. Because you’ve know for years what the threads you see mean. You’ve confirmed it several times since you first saw them at age 7.

But, with Sylus, sometimes you cling to thought of being wrong. Of not seeing what you think you’re seeing. His words are all that it would take for that temporary peace to come crashing down.

Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?

“No. After all, I’m just a lowly actress in this show of ours. I’m no director.”

“Oh, you are no actress, Gamayun. If anything, you’re my director and writer. I’m merely here to finance whatever your heart desires to create. So, let us discuss our visions for Miss Hunter, and draw up a new episode this season.”

“I’d rather you consider this my resignation from that role into a new one. Because acting is starting to sound more appealing.”

Sylus pulls back. His face falls, and lets out a deep sigh that shakes you to your core.

“Than what do you want from me, Gamayun?” He pulls you close again, your head resting on his chest. “I’m so tired of fighting with you over something, someone, so trivial.”

Tired.

That one words carries so much weight. It seeps into your lonely soul.

It’s exactly how you feel. How all that’s happened recently has made you feel. How all the secrets and the soulmates and the unrequited love has made you feel.

You’ve been tired for years. For so long you no longer know what “rest” really feels like.

Tired of loving a world that would reject you in a second. Tired of holding it together. Tired of lying.

And maybe that’s why you did what you did. Maybe that’s why you hurt Sylus. Because you’re tired of always being the one to run.

People in your life drifted from you, yes. But it was always you that had to put the final nail in the coffin of your relationships.

So maybe that’s why you’re so tired. And maybe you wanted to make Sylus tired. Tired of you. So tired of you and your shit that he just turns his back on you permanently.

Tired.

“I’m tired too,” is all you can muster at the moment.

You pull back from Sylus. But not for long. As soon as you slip out of his embrace, you sit on his bed and pat the place beside you. He sits down immediately.

The way you two sit, facing each other and knocking knees together, reminds you of the position you and Miss Hunter sat in not too long ago. It warms you heart in an ironic and bitter way.

But you chase those thoughts away to focus. Focus on Sylus and focus on what you need to do right now. You take his hand, giving it light squeeze, before you look him directly in the eyes and begin speaking.

“I’m sorry,” it’s hard to get the words out, not out of pride, but out of pain. “For pulling away. For being so hostile earlier. For saying… no, threatening to leave you. And for not trusting you.”

For hurting you, and doing that so you’d chase me away. For making you believe I could just abandon you. For being jealous of you finding your destined love. For acting like a complete ass. For being hurt by some silly words.

I’m so sorry, my Morana.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For?” You press him, despite the discomfort on his face.

“For the lying. For what I said when you confronted me. For not telling you about my plans to bring Miss Hunter here. For not telling of my plans with—“

“You don’t need to apologize for that.”

The shock on Sylus’ face is evident. Even if he doesn’t completely show it.

“I’m not entitled to every little thing in your life. Just as you aren’t mine. We both need to learn to be okay with that.”

You pause before continuing, “And we both are entitled to space whenever we want and for however we want. Just as long as we communicate things.”

Sylus just nods. He squeezes your hand tighter. His eyes have his signature glimmer back. One so uniquely Sylus you don’t know how to describe it.

My selfishness dulled that glimmer.

As you and Sylus just talk for a bit, you think to yourself about your new plan.

I can’t just leave. And even with Miss Hunter as my replacement, I need a better idea for my departure. Somewhere away from the two of them, but with ties to my current life so that there’s no suspicion._  An idea hits you: Onychinus has many connections, many of which you forged yourself.

Kai did always want to recruit me. Maybe I’ll finally take her up on the offer?

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: Do you prefer long chapters or short chapters? This story will be pretty long regardless, i just want to see what people prefer.

3rd Author's Note: Ikigai, Fun Fact = I originally was going to make this a one shot (and then plot ran away after breaking my kneecaps) and one where Reader didn't realize they were dating the entire time (but I wanted Sylus to suffer more, so I just made them very touchy, but with a line in the sand).

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[suliigwp]

Hi! Could you write another part for the Vroom Vroom story? Like they are all doing the interviews together and a reporter asks a question that she does not quite understand. Lewis or Alonso see that and try and explain it to her and the interview derails from there.

EMOTION ARC: MANY

Rookie! Reader x Platonic! Paddock

Previous Part!

SULI: I didn't think our vroom vroom would receive so much love, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Here's another crack fic before the big more serious one comes! Thank you for requesting!

Warnings: pineapple on pizza mentioned, none!

The room is packed. Cameras flash, reporters fidget with recorders, and three drivers take their seats at the middle: Fernando Alonso, composed and sipping water like he didn’t just dodge chaos for 58 laps; Lewis Hamilton, ever-charismatic and polished, nodding to the crowd; and smack in the middle—The Rookie.

She’s wearing her race suit half unzipped over her team shirt, podium cap slightly crooked, and clutching the miniature champagne bottle like it’s a trophy. And her expression reads somewhere between am I still dreaming? and what happens if I open this bottle inside?

The moderator clears his throat.

“Congratulations to all drivers. We’ll open up the floor for questions.”

A reporter in the front row lifts a hand.

“This question is for our rookie. Congratulations on your first podium! Can you walk us through the emotional arc of your race?”

There’s a long pause.

The rookie leans forward toward the mic slowly, eyebrows drawn together in total confusion.

“…What is arc?”

She says it like someone just asked her to explain quantum physics using only interpretive dance.

Lewis, sitting next to her, is already smiling, having expected this exact energy.

“It means… like the emotional journey. How you felt at different points. Start, middle, end. That kind of thing.”

Still chewing gum, she nods slowly, visibly processing. Then, seriously:

“Ah. Okay. So…”

She leans into the mic again with full confidence now:

“Start: Scared. Turn 1: Still scared. Turn 3: Someone yell at me. Lap 7: I yell back. Then… vroom vroom. Rain happen. More vroom. Almost spin. I scream. I close eyes. Still drive. Then boom—I’m here. Emotion arc: Many.”

She finishes with a victorious sip of champagne and a shrug.

Fernando chokes slightly on his water.

Lewis is laughing, head down.

The press corps is stunned silent—then someone lets out a snort, and the whole room breaks into chuckles.

A second reporter raises a hand, trying to get things back on track.

“And how did you feel about the tyre strategy today?”

Rookie nods proudly.

“I do tyres.”

Dead silence.

Lewis blinks. “You… what?”

“I do tyres. I… use them. Good. Not bad. Round.”

Fernando leans toward the mic, totally deadpan.

“What she means is—her engineer made all the tyre decisions, and she said ‘okay’ with no clue what any of it meant.”

Rookie holds up a hand to correct him:

“No no. I say ‘okay’ very confidently. That is important. I fake it. I pretend I know. That is strategy.”

Lewis, still laughing:

“So you had no idea what tyre you were on?”

She pauses. Then:

“…Were they… black?”

Lewis slaps the desk. Fernando actually laughs out loud this time.

She points to Fernando and Lewis with both fingers like she’s shooting finger guns.

“Listen. You two talk too much about apex and degradation and undercut. I go vroom. That is my arc.”

The next reporter can barely hold a straight face but tries anyway:

“Okay… what was going through your mind when you crossed the finish line?”

She goes completely still, staring into the distance. Her voice drops into mock-dramatic whisper.

“I think… if I crash now… they still count, yes?"

Fernando puts his head in his hands.

“I want to say this is all an act, but I saw her spin in pit lane yesterday trying to wave at a pigeon.”

She shrugs again. “He looked friendly.”

Lewis tries to redirect:

“Let’s not forget she got P3 in the rain, held off Checo for five laps, and still had time to sing ABBA on the radio.”

She points triumphantly.

“Yes! This is why I win. Because of ABBA. And my skill. And because I forget to brake.”

Fernando stares at her.

“You… you forgot to brake?”

She looks unsure.

“I think maybe. I do one tiny brake. Just for fun. Mostly… vibes.”

At this point, a poor reporter in the back is just holding up a recorder, looking vaguely haunted.

Moderator clears his throat, half-chuckling.

“We’ll take one last question.”

A quiet voice from the back:

“What’s your goal for the rest of the season?”

She grins like she’s been waiting for this one.

“More podiums. More tyres. Less understanding. And… maybe one donut.”

She leans toward Lewis. “You teach me donut?”

Lewis, smiling warmly:

“Only if you promise to learn what a yellow flag is.”

She nods.

“Deal. But only yellow. No time for green.”

Fernando raises a hand.

“I would like to formally request she never meets Ricciardo.”

Lewis agrees.

“Or Kimi. We cannot risk it.”

She points between the two of them, grinning.

“Old men fear me. This means I win.”

As the conference ends and the drivers rise, Lewis drapes an arm around her shoulders, still chuckling.

“You know… you might actually be the future of the sport.”

She looks dead serious.

“Yes. But also… I want pizza now.”

Fernando, walking past her, doesn’t even break stride.

“If she podiums again, someone better bring pineapple pizza. Chaos deserves chaos.”

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 27th

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1. Hello, how's you. I'm looking a fic, it was a one-shot and meet bad. Lan Wanji lost A-yun at the mall during Christmas 🎄. They saw a CCTV footage of Wei Wuxian walking with A-yun and they thought he kidnapped him. It was all a misunderstanding. They end up coparenting A-yun. Thank you

FOUND? I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

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2. Hey am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian switches places with the úntame version of himself due to a talisman and finds out that that version of himself and lan wandgi are not together @fanficlover-novels

FOUND? Key Differences by pupeez4eva (T, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Dimension Travel, Crossover, Drama!WWX meets Novel!WWX, Public Confessions, Post-Canon)

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3. please help me to find this one fic. It was a time travel fic where only wwx goes back to the past. But the unique part is wwx is in his older body & with that he clears the burial mounds by himself & then he lives there, many people know about this & started calling him yllz and one day bc everyone thinks that this yllz is a diety they start to sacrifice someone. One day qhj sacrifice lwj, but wwx doesn't want him after that qhj dies, kid lwj fell in love w/yllz Nhs knows yllz from his father

FOUND? Practical Mythology by metisket (T, 17k, WangXian, Time Travel, YLLZ WWX, myths and legends, apparently the burial mounds has to fix everything itself, zombie farm collective, accidental deities, Families of Choice)

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4. Looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is a jiaoren/merperson and saves Lan Zhan via emergency transformation. From what I recall, LZ was thrown into a river or lake by Wen soldiers, tied and weighted so he'd drown. WWX found him, and didn't have a way to free him from the weights, and had to transform him to keep him alive. Slow transformation. Just gills at first, but no way to stop it once started, so LZ had to stay underwater while they escaped. @shiroookamitoko

FOUND! A Kiss You Can't Breathe Without by ElvenQueens (M, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Merpeople, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fall of Lotus Pier, Animal Transformation, Creature Fic, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drowning)

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5. Hello can i ask for help searching a specific fic? its a modern au and wangxian are friends with benefits, its lwj pov and hes pining hard. wwx got into a car accident that left him in long comatose and jyl kindly invited lwj to sit beside his sickbed and wait for wwx to wake up. lwj comes everyday after work, after wwx wake up lwj volunteered to bring him home and they confessed to each other

FOUND? Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

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6. hello! do you know which fic is this?

"does anyone know which wangxian fic had the problematic breakup and wwx got w some other dude and had a baby w blue eyes or smth" i found a wangxian divorce fic i wanna read but istg if it’s THAT one-

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7. First of all, thank for all your work!!! I'm searching for a fic and I can't remember clearly the scenes, just that wwx, I think, created a book of interpretation of lwj's reactions paired with short description of what it means and lsz and ljy use it to interpret what lwj wants to say. I think it's like that. Thank you!!!

FOUND? Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

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8. I'm absolutely going batty trying to find this fic! It's Wangxian, but not central to the boys in that it's in Jin Zixuan's POV & he kills Wen Xu with a Yu blade while pretending to be hunting for deer on behalf of Mme Jin(?). (it's not the unbearable pain of being seen antho by meyari, but similar in tone.) Basically, JZX turns the fate of the entire war on its ear, bc he is competent. Help, please!! (and thank you!) @thelima-aka-chickwriter

FOUND! 🔒 Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed MY, Families of Choice, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession)

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9. Hello, I'm looking for a fic, I remember there was a battle between Wei Ying and the Lan clan and Wei Ying wins, and spares Lan Zhan. Then Lan Zhan spends 2 weeks (or more) day and night burying all the dead then collapses from exhaustion. He is saved by Wei Ying and treated by Wen Qing but spends a good time bedridden with an inability to raise his arms. That's my only memory. Thanks in advance :) @wesenyr

FOUND? help is on the way by Vamillepudding (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, LWJ Needs a Hug, Fairy Tale Elements)

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10. Hi sorry, can you help me find a fic please!

It's a wangxian dom/sub universe. The author had originally posted the fic on another website, and then uploaded it to AO3. They recently made the fic a mystery fic, so idk if anyone can find the original post or a download of it 😭

It was a dom lwz and sub wwx, with lwz being in a relationship with mo xuanyu but he takes in wwx to help train him. It endgame wwx, with mo xuanyu being okay with wangxian being together. It also has slight wwx/jgy at the beginning but it's nothing serious. @i-swear-we-were-okay

FOUND? backfire (🔒squidgewolrd link) by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, WangXian, WangYu, one-sided XianYu, MingYu, Modern AU, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM etiquette, Sadism Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow WWX, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, Nonsexual BDSM, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining WWX, Jealous WWX, Touch-Starved WWX, Professional Dominant WWX, Sex Worker WWX, Gentle Dom LWJ, Mean Dom LWJ, Oblivious LWJ, Past WC/WWX, Minor JGY/WWX, Mentioned WWX/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Wangxian, MXY Also Gets a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) I think is for #10, their non gift fics are on their website

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11. Excuse me? But could you help me rediscover the fanfic series where the first fanfic story starts with Wei Ying from the modern era in a T-shirt, basketball shorts, and tennis shoes (with a plastic grocery bag of energy drinks) chances upon Lan Wangji at Cloud Recesses. In the time of the novel post Sunshot Campaign. So the mystery is about why Wei Ying was brought into the past. (Spoiler Alert: It's about soulmates)

The second story of the series is about how Wei Ying and Lan Wangji split time between the modern era and the Cultivation era. There is an incense burner scene where Wei Ying gets to seduce Lan Wangji at their first meeting with his bare legs in his basketball shorts. Another is about Lan Wangji getting jealous about Wei Ying using his dildos from before their relationships.

Would you please help me with this? I hope you have a great day. @kaitou-cure-prism12

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

FOUND? Dramaturgy by slex (slexenskee) (T, 62k, WIP, WangXian, Isekai, Canon Divergence, modern!wwx, Bisexual disaster WWX, not intentionally a fix-it AU but definitely a fix-it AU, Transmigration, Identity Porn, Computer Science)

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12. hi! is it true that there's a Wangxian fic based on the k-drama 'Whe Life Gives You Tangerines'?

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13. I have a specific fic I'm looking for! It was wangxian modern AU, where wwx and a-yuan were somewhat in hiding. Nmj/nhs and the wen siblings (I think) knew what was going on and were helping them. Wwx moved around a lot to avoid detection until one day wwx meets lwj and falls in love and doesn't want to leave. I didn't read far enough to learn what exactly they were in hiding for, but the tags I remember made it seem like a wwx whump fic. I know it's not a lot to go on but I appreciate any help! Thank you! @scienceontheweekdays

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14. Looking for a fic where wwx stumbles upon a cave and find a big egg in a nest and after releasing he might lose his life if the parent of the egg came back and found him there, but before he could escape, comes back, wwx try to reason with it only for the dragon to start sniffing him and circling around him then-- yeah papapa happens. (Can't remember if wwx was human or fox, also not sure if he actually saw an egg or just a nest but I'd say he did see both)

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15. Hi, I’m looking for a fic I read a while back and unfortunately I remember very little of it so I don’t even know where to start looking for it. LWJ is the emperor or prince and WWX has been sent to him as a concubine (i think) by the Jiangs but LWJ is not aware that his concubine is WWX, I think he is under the impression that WWX is missing or dead… I remember WWX coming into the throne room and LWJ being chocked that his concubine is WWX. I think A-Yuan had a hand in WWX showing up there or something. Sorry I know it’s not much to go on but it’s been living rent free in my mind for a while now. Thank you @unlimitedsparks

FOUND? True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 82k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

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16. Hi Mods! i am looking for a Modern AU fic where WWX is dead for a moment and he wakes up in the mortuary? and there was some kind of investigation becouse magic could have been used in him? he was living with the wen siblings or was in close contaac with them. thats all i can remember (sorry for my bad grammar i am not a native speaker) @nashajtc

FOUND? 🔒 care by everbrighter (T, 35k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Resurrection, they have a son, Family Bonding, Getting to Know Each Other, Past Character Death, Mutual Pining, Kid Fic, Sexual Tension, (between lan yuan's pining dads), Modern with Magic) The Sudden Nature series specifically the 7th work is very similar to this ask

FOUND? 🔒 Swing From the Gallows and Wave by NyxNuit (E, 126k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, They're not 'cultivators' they're Exorcists, Murder Mystery, does this count as crack?, featuring my attempts at humor, demon hunter AU, general amounts of absurdity, cameos from other MXTX characters, Major Character Undeath, the typical pining we expect from WangXian, Not a Slow Burn Tho, the usual gratuitous music references, and gratuitous pop culture references, Sexual Content, featuring Yunmeng Bros reconciliation)

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17. Hi can u help me find a fic? its a modern setting au with fwb wangxian and pining lan zhan. weiying got into a car accident and lan zhan took care of him by invitation of jiang yanli, weiying was in a coma for a long time but lan zhan dutifully waited on his hospital bedside everyday then after weiying wake up he took him and care for him. and confessions ensue. thanks! @heizelberry

FOUND? Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

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18. Hiiii! Hope you're having a great day! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ is sent to kill the YLLZ without knowing it's WWX. I believe it was an one-shot. Thank You in advance!

🔒 Caught me by surprise by Say (G, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Love at First Sight, YLLZ WWX, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Cute, No Angst) he was sent to apprehend YLLZ not necessarily kill him. There is another one where Lan Zhan is dressed as a dancer and then literally tried to sword fight wei ying , im looking for it now.

FOUND? hidden faces by sarahyyy (T, 1k, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Mistaken Identity, Mild Hurt/Comfort, wwx probably wasn't found by jfm or taken into the jiang sect here, so he grew up on the streets and wandered into the burial mounds at some point, and p much grew up cultivating on resentful energy etc etc, still helped take down wrh still helped take in wen remnants though)

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19. Looking for a fic, Niè Huaisang POV, crack-ish. Journal entries of his side of the novel, he has a handful of people helping him with his schemes. I read it a few years ago and apparently did not bookmark it. He eventually curses that he’s going to have to marry his most capable assistant and become chief cultivator. @any-mouse

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20. I was hoping someone knew of a fic where WWX reincarnates/ressurects as a fox kit? It's fairy recent to his death and he is reborn as part of a litter of foxes near Cloud Recesses. He hunts or plays with the rabbits and is found by LWJ and A-Yuan. There's mention later that his fox mother may have gained spiritual awareness due to the proximity of WWX's spiritual energy. I can't really remember more. Thanks in advance! @yilingweiclan

FOUND? Pin the tail on the fox by RMoonberry (Not Rated, 40k, WIP, WangXian, fox wwx, Reincarnation, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is too attractive huli jing, Light Angst, LXC is very naive, WWX and JC's reconciliation, the family feels, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, WWX is pampered, Typical Canon Violence, i think, Spirit Animals, Shapeshifter, Canon Divergence, white hair wwx, Non-consensual drug use., historical inaccuracy., mythical beasts, Implied Torture, Inaccurate use of medicines)

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[blorbocedes]

Nico Rosberg: "I'm finally free"

02/16/2017 

The world champion after his retirement. The German who left F1 speaks for the first time:

I'm finally free. Pilots live like hamsters.

MARCO MENSURATI – The Republic

MONTE CARLO - HE GRINDS some Sichuan pepper on the smoked salmon that the waitress at the lounge bar at the Meridien Beach Plaza has just left on the low glass table. Then he stretches. "The fact is that I'm free, finally," he says. And with a pinch he lifts his blue cashmere sweater from his chest. The gesture - anyone who has ever frequented a paddock will have immediately understood - alludes to the "plain clothes" clothing, that is, the absence of team suits. "Free. If I'm here talking to Repubblica it's because I chose to. No one from Mercedes said to me this morning: "Go and talk to that journalist." No. Nico wants to talk, Nico talks.

Let's start with the choice to stop. Three months have passed, are you still convinced you did the right thing? Even more than before. The sacrifice you have to make to win a world championship is monstrous, in physical, personal and relational terms. For goodness sake, it's part of the game. A beautiful game, which I chose myself and which I wanted to play first.

But now that I've won - or, better, now that I've gotten where I wanted to - I can say: thank you all, that's enough. It was a golden opportunity to close my F1 book here, there was also a happy ending. Now I enjoy all the other beautiful things that are out there. Life can't just be going around in circles from morning to night, all year round, in a car. I'm a man, not a hamster!

The comparison between drivers and hamsters is a bit strong. Let's say: beautiful hamsters, rich and living a fantastic life.

But still hamsters. Yes, no offense. Formula 1 has been my life up until now. And I would like to continue to have a role in this sport. But I repeat: there is a whole life to live out there; and if you are a driver you are forced to always and only focus on your own activity, in the car and outside.

When you began your career as a driver, your father set the goals: "Win a race, win in Monte Carlo, win a world championship". The fact that you stopped exactly one second after reaching the goals indicated by your father, saying, "now I am free", provides a particular key to understanding your sporting and human story. Having a dad like mine was difficult, especially at the beginning of my career. Everyone looked at me, asked me about the son of an driver, do you know how many times I heard that? He helped me out of charity, but he was cumbersome: he knew everything about the world I was entering, what I had to do, what the others had to do, what was best and what was worst. It worked well. But then when F1 arrived I realized that something had changed: I needed to make mistakes, to do it my way. So one evening we talked.

Did you argue? We were clear. I really believe in the art of telling things as they are. I think that if we all did it, our lives would be simpler. On one side there was a parent who wanted to make things easier for his son, on the other there was a man who was looking for his own path. How do we move forward in F1?, we said to each other. In the end he stepped aside, and I thank him for the lightness with which he did it. He is an emotional guy (Rosberg is multilingual, his Italian is almost perfect, in this case he meant emotional, but the slip was too significant not to report it - ed.) and he was able to manage the situation in the best possible way and today I can only thank him for having let me do it, I would like him to know that it is only thanks to this that I am now here speaking as a world champion. And I would also like him to know that now I know how much it cost him.

Now you are a father too. What role did your daughter play in the decision to stop? More than my daughter, my family. It's the most important thing I have. And I had to ask them for a huge, unfair effort too. Now I want to focus on them as much as I can and be a better father and husband. Which is something I've already started to do, discovering that fatherhood isn't all that simple. There's very little talk about it, people always say "children are the most beautiful thing in the world" and no one says how complicated it is, especially for a father, to relate to a one-and-a-half-year-old girl. It's beautiful but also tiring and, let's face it, boring at times. You're there with another person with whom you struggle to communicate and inevitably you get bored. Then when you're not there you miss them, and above all you feel guilty because when you were there you were bored. It's part of the relationship, of growth, of the normality that a pilot can hardly aspire to.

Listening to you speak, it seems like you can glimpse behind so much lucidity, a precise path, psychological work... Did you get help from anyone? Yes. One of the keys to my success was the work I did with the mental coach. I had been working on that aspect for a long time, but this year I took new paths, it was more intense.

Isn't it just a fad? Is philosophy a fad? There have been geniuses in the past, Epicurus, Seneca, take your pick, who two thousand years ago already experienced the same problems, the same difficulties as us. Since they were geniuses, they also analyzed and codified them, giving us extraordinary tools to read what happens to us. In life and in sports.

Are you saying that you won the F1 world championship by reading Epicurus? I gave an example. Ten years ago I was jealous of my wife, I felt bad when she looked at someone else. Today I understood that the problem is not her looking at someone else, but me needing to have all her attention, and I have re-modulated my reactions accordingly. And we are all more serene. The point is that when you understand the reasons for your emotions, you adapt your reaction. And you reduce mistakes. It's called self-awareness. You have to work hard on it.

In addition to philosophy, how did you work on it? Meditation. It was the extra weapon this year. An art that you can practice anywhere, walking, running, in bed as soon as you wake up. Let's be clear, it's work, not magic, but if you practice it consistently and seriously, little by little it helps you improve . It helped me: I'm sure that ten years ago, in a situation like the one I found myself in in the last ten laps of Abu Dhabi, the decisive race, with Lewis slowing down in front and me crushed between the two Red Bulls and Vettel... I'm sure I would have crashed. Instead, I was ready. I'm not saying I was calm, in fact I remember that during the overtaking maneuver on Verstappen I saw everything red and I was very tense. But I was there. And I brought it home... Everyone should do it, teach it in school: we live on the edge, always connected, incapable of getting bored or being alone. We accumulate stories and we are less and less lucid . I, even today, the first thing I do every morning is twenty minutes of meditation. Then it was also very important talk. With the coach we talked about everything, including my father and Lewis.

Here, Hamilton. A complicated coexistence, yours. The journalistic stereotyping wanted the Englishman in the role of the talented and invincible champion, you in that of the zealous "underdog." Then you beat him but those stereotypes partly resisted. Have you ever wondered about your talent? Is he more or less than Lewis? I have always believed in myself; but it is obvious that he has a lot.

You did not answer. Because it makes no sense to answer this question. Talent is an elusive concept, which is also tied to that of self-esteem . What is obvious and what I can say calmly is that I do not beat Lewis with talent but with everything that there is in sport beyond talent; if I put myself on the level of "talent against talent" maybe I could do the same as him, but beat him -- no. It took more than that to beat him. I had to work outside the car. Optimize everything, make sure I brought 100 percent of what I had to the track, every time we raced. Or at least more often than he did.

You were very good friends as kids in the karting days. Best friends. A cinematic story. I still remember that night in Greece. We were on vacation together. After dinner, looking at the sea, he said to me: "Can you imagine how wonderful it would be if one day we found ourselves, you and I, at McLaren (the strongest team at the time, ed.) fighting for the title?" I thought about it, of course. It was my dream. I thought it would be the best thing in the world. Then it actually happened and now I can say that maybe it was, even if the friendship suffered. It's always strange when a dream comes true: it's never how you imagined it.

Now he'll continue to be a hamster and you'll do something else. Maybe you can become friends again. Well, now that there's no competition anymore, I hope so. I would like to. We were good together. Many say he is a strange guy, I think he is unique. I know him perfectly, I know how his brain works, I know everything about him.

He recently said he would have liked to see Alonso take his place at Mercedes. As a Formula 1 fan I could not have hoped for anything better, Alonso against Hamilton ten years later, it would have been a unique show. But I understand that the "Bottas solution" makes more sense for Mercedes.

Bottas is said to be saving Vettel's place for 2018. Well, the contract with Ferrari ends this year, for Mercedes it would be a sensible solution: they will certainly talk about it.

Schumacher in 2007, when he was retiring, confessed that he wanted to swim in the ocean with whales: a dream of his that he had never been able to realize because of F1. What is yours? Much more banal: I would like to ski, by contract I couldn't. And then take guitar lessons.

Michael Jordan said in '93 that he was retiring to be free. At most even free to return and start playing basketball again by choice and no longer by inertia. Right, but I don't find myself in it. My story as a Formula 1 driver is over. And I won't reopen it.

[voicemailfromluke-beep]

and when the moon loved the sun, even more

pair: luke hughes x f!reader; luke hughes x mid/plus-size reader

genre: angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, crying, body image insecurity, sweet pet names, healing.

summary: after everything she said, it’s hard to believe you were ever enough. but when luke finds you hiding from the hurt, the truth starts to come to light and your heart had the right instinct all along.

🍅’s note: okay i know i said no new fic today but… i had to drop this one because why not 😭 feeding the softest luke to all my mid/plus-size babygirls out there. enjoy!

part: 2 of 2 | read part: 1

a soft knock at the door.

you didn’t answer.

“chublet?” luke’s voice was muffled through the wood.

“can i come in?”

you sat up a little, quickly wiping your face even though the tears had already dried into the pillow. your heart squeezed just hearing him say that name. the one only he called you. the one that made you feel seen, even on your worst days.

“…yeah,” you said, barely loud enough for him to hear.

door open, he stepped in, hair still wet. he looked concerned,without a word, he sat gently on the edge of the bed.

his hand rested near your knee, warm and careful.

“hey, you okay?”

you nodded, even though it was a lie. “yeah. just tired. nothing to worry about.”

he tilted his head.

“you were smiling like thirty minutes ago. now my chublet looks like she lost her favorite hoodie. what happened?”

you tried to smile. failed. “i told you not to call me that.”

“you secretly love it.”

“seriously,” he said, nudging your leg lightly.

“why’s my chublet so sad?”

you stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the blanket in your lap. your fingers twisted the edge of the fabric, knuckles white.

“luke…” your voice cracked before you could stop it.

“did you… did you ask cass out?”

he blinked. “what!?”

your throat burned.

“she said you did. that you wanted to get to know her better. and it’s fine. really. i just wish you told me instead of letting me hear it from her.”

he stared at you for a long second, mouth slightly open, processing your words.

“she told you that?”

you nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

“and she said someone like you would never date someone like me anyway.”

luke’s whole expression shifted. his jaw tensed. “she said that to you? to my chublet?”

you gave a weak shrug. “she’s not wrong, though.”

he reached out slowly, fingers grazing your arm.

“hey. chublet. look at me.”

you shook your head, blinking fast to hold back the tears. it was all unraveling now, your heart, your courage, your carefully built confidence.

“please, look at me.” he whispered, softer this time.

you turned your head, eyes red and full of everything you’d tried not to feel.

“i would never hide something like that from you,” he said.

“you know me better than that.”

“and you wanna know something else?” he leaned in just a little.

“she’s not even my type.”

your brows pulled together. “don’t lie, luke…”

“i’m not,” he said, serious now.

“you think i’m into girls who tear down other people behind their back? that’s not who i am. and definitely not what i want.”

you sniffed. “but you’re… you’re you. luke hughes. nhl player. golden boy. it wouldn’t surprise me if you did want someone like her. she’s everything.”

he gave you a look then, one that made your heart ache with how sincere it was.

“chublet, i might be an nhl player, but i’m still human. off the ice? i’m just a guy. a guy who’s got a soft spot for the girl who always forgets her sunscreen and thinks she’s not enough when she’s more than enough every damn day.”

“you’ve always been my favorite part of this group. not because you’re quiet. not because we’re close. but because you’re you. and if i haven’t made that clear before, i’m saying it now.”

tears slipped but this time, you didn’t try to stop them.

“you mean that?” you whispered.

“with everything i’ve got,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath.

“so… can i take you to dinner sometime? for real? just us?”

you smiled through the tears, cheeks burning with disbelief.

“yeah. you can.”

luke reached up and gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“good. because i’ve been wanting to ask for a while.”

you laughed, the sound shaky and real.

“so i’m not just your chublet?”

“nah,” he said, grinning.

“you’re my chublet. and maybe… something more, if you’ll let me.”

[gghostwriter]

Hold Onto You

Spencer ruminates about his relationship—their past, present, and hopefully future

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Tags: Fluff w.c: 1.49k a/n: Feeling highly rusty but the only way out of a writer’s block is through. A huge thank you to emme (@thegloryofliterature) for being my draft reader and for being one of the few moots i run to when a fic idea comes. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The grandfather clock tucked in the little corner of the newly renovated living space struck 1 am. Candles littered in various table tops, its’ wick flickering close to exhaustion, wax melted all around.

Its’ occupants, the owners and their guests, were murmuring their goodbyes, some slurring their words compared to the others. Penelope Garcia, a fine example, was flushed from the copious red wine and with her kitten heels dangling from her fingertips, leaned against the protective arms of one sober Derek Morgan. 

“We had a great time,” JJ smiled at the couple, her cheeks a shade of strawberry pink from the alcohol consumed. 

“The new place also looks great,” Emily nodded before one corner of her lips quirked up into a smirk. “Which we all know is mainly due to your taste rather than Spencer’s.” 

You giggled as Spencer let his indignation known. 

“You’re all welcome back anytime, truly,” your left bare hand finding solace on your boyfriend’s chest.

Morgan chuckled. “We might just take you up—”

Penelope squirmed in his arms, her manicured hands reaching across the threshold to squeeze yours once more.

“You’re so so—” she lengthened the vowel, hiccuping in between. “—sweet. I could just eat you up—”

“Garcia!” Spencer groaned. 

“—but I won’t cause boy genius won’t allow me to,” she pouted.

“And that’s our cue. Good night you two and thanks again for tonight,” Morgan tilted his head to address the youngest member of the team in jest. “Reid, don’t do anything I won’t do, alright?”

They all laughed at his reddening cheeks.

Saying their farewells, the couple watched as the four step onto the awaiting elevator. Once the lift started their descend down, they shut their own door and settled into the abrupt silence of the apartment. 

Spencer watched as his girlfriend of four years burst into giggles, shoulders shaking from the act.

With shiny eyes meeting his, “I had fun tonight, really.”

Any remnants of trepidation from tonight flushed clean from his system, as if the elation shone on your face was all he need to feel all was right in the world.

It was an emotion he wrangled with still, no matter how many years had passed. Spencer knew the statistics of FBI agents in correlation to keeping a relationship alive, the odds were stacked against their favor. 

He didn’t need to look far, his supervisor was an illustrious example of flourishing in his career but floundering in his personal.

So when Spencer started this relationship, his shoulders would tense up from every phone call that took him away from you, as if this case would be the one to break the camel’s back. Or as if this one or the next coming would cause him to turn from being a partner for an incredible woman to being a single entity, alone, missing what he once had. 

He hadn’t told you his worst dreams while away for a case. How he’d hear your melodic laughter in a hazy crowded room, familiar but no longer his, eyes tracking your beauty and smiles in the arms of another man. 

Spencer would wake up drenched from sweat and heart trying to beat out of his chest to the sweet reality where you’re still his and not once well-known stranger just inches out of his orbit.

He vividly remembers the first time he merged his world with yours at an annual gathering at Rossi’s mansion where he meekly asked, in private of course, if he could bring a plus one. 

The senior agent squinted his eyes in return, possibly analyzing any signs that could have pointed to this moment, before breaking into a smile, nodding, and patting his back with a warm chuckle. 

But for tonight, he had felt nervous and if he was being honest with himself, afraid that this moment would finally scare you away from the chaotic fold of his life. 

A fold he was on the verge of including you in for longer—for as long as you’d allow him to. 

“I had fun too,” he breathed out, a soft smile settling on his face. “Even when I had to listen to Morgan detail how much of a klutz I was during the early days.”

You took his hand into yours, rhythmically squeezing as you pulled him to the messy dining table. “Well, I for one thought it was cute—” the tips of your nose scrunching adorably. “—falling into a pool and getting kissed by a celebrity, just wow Spence, not everyone has that type of first kiss.”

The tips of his ears turned a brighter shade of red, mind desperately trying to string along words for defense.

Not waiting for his feeble attempt to contradict your teasing, you flitted around the table, gathering a series of plates as you went, skipping and side-stepping as if you were dancing to your own music.

He watched as the hem of your floral skirt softly swayed, entrancing him to blindly follow your lead. A moth to an ever bright burning flame.

He hovered behind you, caging you in, and the little space in between your bodies turning into static.

Spencer placed his warm hands your waist, the soft fabric and the skin underneath giving way to his grip, thumb running circles on the sliver of exposed skin beneath your blouse.

You giggled, sending vibrations to his chest and tingles to his ears, as he placed a constellation of kisses on your cheeks, trailing down to the soft arch on your neck.

“If I could consider our first kiss as my first, I would,” he whispered against your skin.

“Your eidetic memory begs to differ, love.”

He huffed, lips quirking to a pout. “It’s the thought that counts, wouldn’t it?”

You hummed under your breath, agreeing with his sentiment. 

His fingertips slowly traced its way to your own, caressing a trail that pebbled the skin underneath his feather light touch. Running your intertwined fingers under the streaming water before turning it off, Spencer gently tugged you towards the center of the kitchen.

Unobscured by any furniture, he tucked you safely under his chin, softly humming a song ever so familiar and swayed with you under the dimming orange glow of candlelights. 

The silence, heady from emotion, cocooned the two lovers in its embrace. Your choice of perfume, reminding him of rain against a night pavement, wafted through his sense, lulling his heartbeat to a baseline.

Spencer had spent numerous nights, watching you in deep sleep beside him, wondering if all the roads he hadn’t taken would still lead him to this—to you.

Were you the absolute destination of his otherwise convoluted life? The crystal clear pond at the end of a sweltering desert or an angel sent down by the heavens to one of its heavily wounded soldier or perhaps the absolute answer to his own mathematical and theoretical question called purpose?

If he had made just one mistake, would he still be here, waltzing with you at early in the morning, surrounded by dirty dishes and empty wine bottles on the counter top and no soul awake to watch their phantoms dance as one?

He squeezed your waist three times reassuringly, reminiscing the highs, middles, and lows you had stuck through beside him. 

His recovery from a gunshot wound, how you took time away from work just to make sure he got back to his own two feet. Mundane runs to the grocery store with a golden tint in his memory, making him feel like a little kid experiencing a taste of freedom and Emily’s death on the hands of Doyle, regardless of how untrue it was and the almost relapse from his festering emotions of being called a genius, for being too smart but still being too late to save her.

He wanted everything life would throw at him with your presence right beside him. The warmth of you, your steady hand clutching his, and your eyes sparkling from trust and belief you both would make it through.

Spencer wanted the connection with you to never be severed and for your story to continue on like an epic revisited by generations to come.

When he was young and still naive, he’d wonder if happily ever after truly existed or if was just a jaded author’s hopeful wish to create one in this bleak struggle of life. 

But here, with you in his arms, the neurons in his brain all echo an affirmative, that it does exist.

And it exists right here with you.

A definite ending.

A happy ever after.

So when he closes his eyes and places a litany of kisses on you forehead, he imagines your left hand, enclosed in his, wearing two rings—one of them now still safely hidden in his sock drawer and the other, a simple gold band linking to his own imaginary, and a white picket fence with high pitched squeals and laughter echoing from its’ ever green backyard.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[thedivinetarot]

I'm stronger than all my men

What you're struggling with&how to heal?

☆ How to chose your pile? 🦪🦪🦪

☆ This month's offer? 🦪🦪🦪

☆ Astrology shop {New} ౨ৎ˖𓍢ִ໋౨ৎ˖𓍢ִ໋

☆Disclaimer:

This reading was suggested by one of my dear followers. I hope it will help you get better and find the peace you long for💕.

Pile 1 - Sylvia Plath

1. What are you currently struggling with?

Hello dears? How are you?💕 now let's get into the reading. First, I'm picking up on someone who doesn't have any ideas about emotional boundaries. Someone here have an enmeshed family that like to interfere with everything in your life. I felt my head spinning, dears do you nourish yourself well? Do you eat healthy and regularly? Also, I'm picking up on someone here who grew up in poverty. Perhaps your family didn't offer the proper nutrition to you growing up or someone here has to criticize you and your emotions. Someone here have an open heart chakra, they feel so deeply, but as a result of people using your light you closed yourself off and put strong boundaries around your heart. Dear, your heart is your center. It is your superpower whether you think that or not. I see that you had to constantly defend yourself and your emotional boundaries against your enmeshed family or other people, at first you thought that it is what it is, you did it out of protection. I see that you have a fear of being exposed emotionally to other people because you have been let down, you have seen people you thought that they care, they loved you and all they did was hurting you over and over again. Some of you here had a relationship when they were young, perhaps the other person put you through so many bad things and brought you so much problems that you confused love with pain. That's what I am seeing.

౨ৎ Placements for you:

Scorpio, Leo, Cancer, Sagittarius. Dominant planets in pluto, sun, moon. Placements in the 8th, 4th, 5th, 9th, house in your chart.

2. How this affect you on a daily basis?

That's funny, because the way you put those boundaries, now you don't see this "wall" as something suffocating at all. You think that this "wall" helped you see who do deserve your generosity or goodness and who doesn't. Someone here is pouring all their energy into self-care and self love which is amazing (gurl you are a queen👑). I see that you balanced the act of giving and receiving. You are already on the path toward healing and I see that you are doing so good. Those boundaries you put helped you to heal in silence, balance out your emotions and bask in your own light! I see someone setting under the sun and be like "this is my heaven, my garden, I'm the owner of it". Someone here is actively searching for peace, I see someone here promised themselves that they'll love themselves and spoil themselves like no one ever did that to them.

3. What part need to be nurtured right now?

Okay, expand on self-worth darling. I see that you are internally in a clash between your heart and your mind. Something here have to do with wanting a romantic relationship or not. I see that you think no one would look at you and no one will love you for who you are but the thing is; your self-worth is suffering, Because you don’t think that you deserve love and that no one will love you or like you or will treat you like you do to yourself which is true dear but.... at the same time the more you love yourself and see your own worth, the more able you will be to attract a partner that love you. I see that you are feeling a little nostalgic to someone you had a previous relationship with, the cards are telling me that "you need to forget about them". Abundance is coming your way and you'll be so happy about that. Dear, you deserve the world just by being there, you don't have to be the prettier, the skinnier, the most desirable hot person to be loved. I mean love is not about all those things. It's about knowing how to be vulnerable and how to trust the slow process in building a relationship that last with someone.

4. What will help you more forward?

Someone here is persistent of their effort of self-love and self-care and I see that you lose hope because you don’t see immediate results. You need to to trust the process and keep on nurturing yourself because the work that you are doing right now have long-term effect rather than something fleeting and obvious, because it is long-term. It is meant to last and be obvious after years! Like those young people who exercise daily not knowing that they will look 10 years younger when they are in their 40s or 50s. Also, what will help you move forward is love (self love, romantic, platonic) and peace. Be strategic about who you allow into your space, who you share your peace with, because some people drain instead of lifting up. You need more hope and you need to stop doubting your own strength. You are stronger than you think baby, you are the queen/king, you are that one person who will build an empire.

5. What transformation is ahead?

Okay, you will be more open to romantic love which is something you doubt will happen to you. I see that you will be able to silence your inner critic that keep telling you that "love is not meant for you" or that "no body will love you". Because I see that you will be more open to love but in a balanced way. You won't go out looking for them because they will be there dear waiting for you. I see that you will be slowly coaxed out of your shell and you will be more discerning about who get to have the privilege (access) to you or who not which is great for you pile 1. I see that by that time your person will get to know you in an educational session and the sparks will be there right away. It'll be a fun, healing and shared experience.

Bonus:

I got the message of "kill the urge to be chosen, chose yourself" -SZA.

Pile 2 - Corset

1. What are you currently struggling with?

Ouch, this is hurtful. Someone here is struggling with deep depression and anxiety. I see that you are horrified of new beginnings. I see that you no longer feel the joy that you used to feel and probably a masculine in your life is making your life harder. Someone here have endured a lot of emotional pain, perhaps, in order for you to escape this pain you are tending to the past and remembering all the good things that happened in the past. Someone here is very nostalgic to their past. I see that someone here is stuck in a very unhealthy dynamic with someone in their life and they don't know how to get out of that rut. I see that you are being very careful and watchful of people around you. An old woman perhaps, that is spreading misinformation about you and you are being very careful of her. I see that you are currently getting downloads from the universe via your 3rd eye but you don't know how to trust those insights. So, generally what are you struggling with? Depression. What is the root of it? An older woman (feminine) or a man (masculine) or both who showed you a lot of sorrow and terror in your life. You lost your spark and joy pile 2.

౨ৎ Placements for you:

Aquarius, gemini, Scorpio, Leo. Dominant planets in Uranus, Mars, Venus in Scorpio, jupiter and sun. 11th, 3rd, 8th, 5th house sun or moon or a stallium.

2. How does it affect you on a daily basis?

That's too much pile 2, I'm sorry you had to go through all of this. Well, I see that you are feeling lost, like peace is out of reach. You are carrying a lot of emotional weight on your shoulders. I see that you have emotional imbalance and a lot of emotional wounds and baggage from those people who have hurt you. I see that you keep criticizing yourself, I see that you are being so harsh on yourself. Instead of nourishing yourself you are being more critical and more hurtful even at minor things that doesn't need all this blame on yourself. I see also that you feel foggy. I see that your sense of self is lost. I see also that you are blaming this on luck. Someone here thinks that they don't have luck in life at all and they believe that. I see also, that you no longer see who you are, like you lost yourself completely in the process of all of those overwhelming depression. Pile 2, you think that your thought about yourself and your feelings are you but the truth is far from that. You feelings and emotional baggage doesn't define you, your past doesn't define you, you concept about yourself doesn't define you either. You are you, now I want you to hold my hand, take a deep breath and repeat after me (oh my heart is breaking): I'm me and I'm worth it, my past doesn't define me, my emotions and thoughts doesn't define me, I have the power to shape my OWN path.

3. What part need to be nurtured right now?

That's powerful but.... it says "leave the damn house, far far away" That's what it says. I see that depression keep you stuck in a rut, I keep getting girl rot in her bedroom. I see that your life is quite stagnant right now and you need something fresh to start with. Now what part need to be nurtured is find yourself a gentle hobby that will help you build your sense of self and your confidence slowly. Something creative like air clay, painting, creative writing, or writing poems. Even as reckless as discovering new YouTube channel or feeding cats on the streets. Something to remind you that you are who you are. I keep getting emphasis on the hands, maybe something to do with your hands like baking, air clay, slime, water... swimming? Yeah but don't push yourself too far just something simple that will help you get out of this depression or ease this. Maybe create vision boards on pinterest, repeat affirmations about confidence and self worth, commit to a healthy lifestyle options, eat nourishing meals (I have a lot of ideas! Trust me I'm a nutritionist) Yea, that's what I'm seeing pile 2.

4. What will help you move forward?

Okay dears, you have the power to overcome this! You'll be able to move forward by committing to an emotional goal. Let's say you love something that affect you in a positive way emotionally, now I need you to take this and commit to it. Also, solitude. Protect your own peace and what makes you feel more calm and in your own elements. I see moving out for you, so perhaps a relocation, visiting a trusted friend, adopting a cute animal will help you move forward. I see that you are very smart and hopeful, you have visions and no you don't have to forget or abandon them. Maybe working on your life visions, taking tiny baby steps to become the person you aspire to be. Maybe someone is waiting for you and perhaps will be a good company that will stimulate you mentally and make you see life in a brighter light.

5. What transformation is ahead?

I feel like crying help!😭. I see that your depression had weighed you down for so long that you forget how life it feels. Everything is black and white and no colors, Everything is mundane, dull and pain lingers. I see that once you commit to your emotional goal and healing a very painful chapter will come to an end. You got the 10 of s which means ouch it ended painfully but finally you can raise above and pick up yourself and tend to your wounds with care and love. The 5 of wands came next, an internal battle to move forward or not, perhaps something is holding you back off that commitment and work but you need to keep going no matter what. I see that you will learn how to put boundaries, how to protect your own garden from other people. And finally the 9 of pentacles at the end of the spread which promise of luxurious and beautiful garden that you tended to with your whole heart and might. You'll raise above like a butterfly and build your own self. Death, queen of wands is talking about you! I got the lyric "through the fire we are born again!" Which is you! Going through that fire to emerge stronger, more confident and more radiant. Like the Queen of Wands that demand her own right by just being present.

Bonus:

"Through the fire we are born again" - High by the beach by Lana Del Rey.

Pile 3 - Lace

1. What are you currently struggling with?

Hello angels, I hope you are doing well. Now, I see that you are currently struggling with fear and emotional imbalance which lead you to doubt if your manifestations will ever come true. I see that you are dealing with a lot baby, dealing with confusion, fogginess and amidst all of this your intuition has been clouded. I see that your ego or shadow self are making you doubt your own potential when it comes to your worth. I see someone here struggling a lot to detach from their old version. It's like the new you be like "I need to do a,b,c" and your old/shadow self is like "but I fear those!" And there's a clash here between seeing any results and doubting. I see that your energy "the push pull dynamic between your higher self and shadow self" are sending energies to the universe that you are not ready to receive your manifestations. I see also that everything you are doing is being seen by the universe. The universe is not blind on you, universe sees your efforts even if it seems like they are not done perfectly. Universe doesn't ask for perfection, universe ask for alignment. But I see you getting out of this fog, I see you trying to connect to your higher self and intuition which is a huge step towards receiving your manifestations dear.

౨ৎ Placements for you:

Gemini, Cancer, Aquarius, Scorpio, sagittarius, virgo. Mercury, Neptune, Mars, Venus as dominant planets in your chart. A stallium in the 3rd, 4th, 11th, 8th, 9th House in your chart.

2. How does it affect you on a daily basis?

Okay, this is huge. Sooo huge. I see that this is affecting your physical health and mental health. I see that you are pouring a lot of effort into this that when something is not materializing you start doubting your self, your magic, your effort. I see physical symptoms appearing on you which are bloating, heart palpitations, And I feel a tightening in my chest. Like you can't breathe. I see also it is making you feel mentally restless. You can't sleep at night, you spend so much time doom scrolling on tiktok, IG, YouTube just to avoid solving this. Also, the emotional imbalance and lack of creativity is a thing here. You might have stopped doing your favourite hobbies because of your restlessness. Anxiety here is a thing too. The energy here is very scattered, like someone here is trying their best but they feel like "building a house in the sand" which the tides wash it away. Seriously, it's so heartbreaking. This group are fighting with their own self. They are on a bridge between their old version and new version. I see that there's loneliness too. Someone here feels so sad and lonely which let's be honest is so hard because all the emotional burnout and exhaustion you have been through is not easy. Also, try to connect with nature, go to mother nature tell her how you feel and she will listens, set under the sun, breathe, meditate, ground yourself in the soil, go out of your house.

3. What part need to be nurtured right now?

Okay, there’s a message here thay is saying "the worst has finally ended". I see that those mixed feelings have finally ended and you are now swimming to a clearer water, and softer space. I see that there's still tension from those things, I see that you are still mourning an ending here. You might be mourning your old version. Remembering how much it bared with you. How much that version carried. How things was being thrown your way and every time you successfully survived. Now after surviving and ending things there's new hope, realizing that you are a magician. Someone who manifest, see things and bring those things to you. You are powerful. After this ending you realized your power. Your potentials, your wisdom. I see that now you are slowly putting actions but with intentions not just a fleeting things. It's given... that very witch who brew tea to heal from negative energy (no offense I do that). I see that you have finally saw beyond the shadow, beyond the dark. You are seeing that stability is meant for you and you have all the knowledge you need to change, walk away and start all over. I'm so proud of you. Now what do you need to nurture? Your manifestations, your self worth, put efforts with intentions and balance your emotions and shall that lead you to the stability you long for.

4. What will help you move forward?

Okay, I see that you need to surround yourself with people who already have what you want. I got the emphasis on lana Del Rey interview when she said "find someone who got the life you want and see how they figured it out, pick your role model wisely". I see that it is so important to befriend people who have the same visions as you and same values. I see also that you need to cut people who no longer serve you in your life. I see that someone here been in a friendship with people who were not good for them for A LONG TIME. and they need to say goodbye to that friend or community perhaps. I see also that you need to pick your battles wisely, not everything will serve your highest good and there's no need for you to get into battles that will suck the energy out of you instead of actually help you evolve. You need to take the leap, be more discerning and trust that the universe has your back. I see that you might still be mourning your old version but the death was necessary to get where you want.

5. What transformation is ahead?

That's wonderful! Now, I see that old pain is resurfacing and you are being asked to heal from it. This transformation might have to do with aligning your inner choices with your values and healing that wounded heart. you're being led into a softer, more intuitive state. don’t rush this. This is sacred. Reflection and solitude are part of the metamorphosis. You might be questioning your self-worth, independence, or feeling a lack of abundance but the universe whispering, “Hang in there, you're realigning.” It promises hope and soul-deep healing. And soon you'll find emotional fulfillment within or with someone. The world is opening up but you're in the liminal space. Planning. Dreaming. Choosing which path your soul wants next. So… yeah. You’re on the brink of a soul evolution, friend. It’s like you’re learning how to feel without drowning, love without losing yourself, and rise like the elegant emotional phoenix you are. This transformation is emotional, intuitive, spiritual, and a little bit magical. You’re shedding old heartbreak, moving into alignment with yourself, and gently cradling your inner child as you envision a new dream.

Bonus:

This queen here:

Pile 4 - Curtains

1. What are you currently struggling with?

(There was two energies so I wrote both).

Hello pile 4? I hope you are doing well. Now, I'm not sure if this an LGBTQ+ situation or not but my intuition is telling me that (regardless of the gender of the reader or other party) there was a situation that you invested in and you got ghosted by the other person. I see that this pile here people are suffering from a deep loneliness and longing to that situationship or person. I see that you have decided to move on, you have took the leap and moved forward but wait.... I see that despite your decision there's things that you don't know about that keep you stuck. I see that this person is there in your deep subconscious mind. They are literally there in the dark, not freed yet from you. I see that consciously, you have moved on. But subconsciously, you are still stuck on them. Someone here need to do shadow work or mirror work, repeat affirmations that this situationship ended and you don't have to dwell on it. I see that this situation might have started quickly, like fire without any grounded energy and ended just as fast. Someone here tried to move on but got stuck subconsciously on that person. Perhaps, you might’ve seen a lot of synchronicity related to them. Their name is everywhere, their birthday number, something related to them. And now you wonder why haven't things changed. I see that there might be a message that set things off, perhaps that person or you sent a message that made you or them feel unwanted or not welcomed. I see that the communication stopped between you two and now you feel a deep sense of loneliness, longing and abandonment. You are struggling also with getting stuck on your comfort zone. Someone here is stuck in the dark, I thought bedrooting lol. Someone here does not leave their house unless there's fire in it (God forbid).

౨ৎ Placements for you:

Leo, Scorpio, Aries, Virgo, Aquarius. Venus in Scorpio, mars in Aries, sun in Leo and pisces. Ascendant aspect to Uranus. Dominant planets in your chart: Sun, Mars, Neptune, Uranus. Stallium in the 5th, 1st, 11th, 8th, 6th house in your chart.

2. How does it affect you on a daily basis?

Okay, it is creating uneven or unexpected opportunities that unfortunately you pass. I see that someone here is a master manifestor but despite that you are sending to the universe a desperate or anxious frequencies which is keeping you stuck on that cycle. I see a cycle here... the energy is scattered all over the place. Someone here need grounding, the root chakra is closed off or inactive. I see that someone here need to go to nature and ground themselves. I see that you are wasting your potentials and keeping yourself stuck for something that does in fact will come on the right time. I see that someone here is resisting change. There’s fear here that is keeping you stuck on loop. That loop start with an opportunity, you sabotage it out of fear then the cycle go on and on again. Someone here is dealing with insomnia at night. A lot of scattered ungrounded energies, a lot of thoughts that is closing off your 3rd eye. The hopeful part is that despite all of this? You will still be able to find clarity and be guided into gentle water pile 4.

3. What part need to be nurtured right now?

Okay, you need to start seeking clarity and be more discerning. You need to tame the scary mess in your thoughts. I see that you also need to start seeing your "loneliness" as an opportunity for growth and turn it into solitude instead of looking at other people and be like "why them and not me?" Because we know why them and not you. Baby (let me hold your hand while saying this, and sorry in advance if it hurt) they got those opportunities and community because they took the leap after they grounded themselves. They are not afraid to move forward, that's why in the 1st paragraph you felt stuck and not able to move forward. You were hung up on stagnant energy for so long and now the cards are telling me that you have the power to shape your reality and move forward. I see that there will be a path that will open for you. This path is a little unconventional and even a little untraditional but there will be a lot of joy and growth that come out of it. I see that you'll be able to turn your loneliness into solitude. Take it as an opportunity for example to learn more things about yourself, like what scares you? What make you happy? What bring you courage? Etc. Now for the important part, this path that will unlock depends on your dedication, emotional maturity and creativity. Something that might seem as a failed investment but actually it is not. That's what I'm seeing.

4. What will help you more forward?

Okay, I don't want to seem cheesy or annoying because maybe you have heard of this A LOT by now. But.... you need to love yourself first pile 4. And stay discerning. Take the leap with open heart darling but at the same time stay sharp, and tame the wild in you. This path need your creativity and emotional engagement from you in order for it to flourish and finally I see that you'll be able to heal what was left unsaid from your old version. I see that a lot of thoughts are bubbling up in my head to the point that they gave me headaches someone here is thinking so hard they can't sleep or functions like a normal human but there will be something that is going to shake things up in your life. And you'll be tempted by your ego to sabotage it and repeat the cycle all over again but this time you have this reading to guide you through, you have me too and it is okay if you need an advice. Stop letting fear destroy you, stop letting the cycle repeat again, because it is wasting time, wasting energy and most importantly it is in fact draining you. May the universe guide you gently to your path pile 4.

5. What transformation is ahead?

That's kind of sad. But... You'll be tested again by the universe to see if you are ready for that opportunity or not. I see that you'll be tempted to sabotage it because there's a lot of external and internal conflict in your life. I see that you are very stubborn and you won't easily back off from getting stuck. I see that the cycle might repeat itself if you failed the test. But remember that you have the power to shape things over and to heal. You are more ambitious and stronger than you think pile 4. Don't let the test be repeated again, it is waste of time. Don't sabotage a great opportunity because you don’t have passion, or because the circumstances are not helpful or because you have no power over your life. Stop excusing your fear and ego as a valid reasons. Ego fear the unknown and you'll be soon walking towards it slowly. Take care dears, I love you and you absolutely deserve the best💕.

Bonus:

"Sometimes you need to get uncomfortable to be comfortable" -The Wizard Liz.

Post date: 27th of May 2025 - Tue.

*Feedback is appreciated

[goldfishinaplasticbag]

I've read 1-800 Gotham twice and all I can say is that you are a literary genius.

The first read to flet like Tim's POV and emotions were highest and strongest

Then the second read it felt like a Private Investigator because Tim leaves so many clues that Jax and Angel are two different people.

I'm making a list with screenshots and a PowerPoint presentation because OMG

There is one moment where Jax first meets the Bats, and when Barbara (maybe it was Nightwing) asked if they would meet Angel, and Jax looked sad— LIKE THAT ADDS TO BARBARA'S THREOY, the part that Angel is like her in a lack of mobility .

This is my top favorite fics and to fimd we are in ACT 1!!!

All I can say is that I wish you the very best and hope you continue to live your life in peace

thank you so much!!!! hahaha i love it when people reread my writing and find little details i dropped early on. i would kill to see your presentation and list that's so funny.

yes!! every thing that the bats know come from what's been written! tim looks sad because he knows he, as angel, cannot meet them and he feels bad about it.

only act 1 baby! honestly i am scared at just how long this fic will take me to finish but hopefully i can be consistent and motivated all the way through

thank you very much for your kind words and enjoyment of the story so far. i will do my best to continue writing! <3

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Collateral Hearts // 3

Pairing: John Price x OC

Summary: When a brutal attack targets a hospital, ex-military sniper Leah Price is forced out of hiding—and back into the world of covert warfare she left behind. Calling in the only contact she trusts, she crosses paths with her estranged husband, Captain John Price. As bullets fly and buried wounds resurface, Leah must decide if she’s ready to fight not just for survival—but for the man who once let her go.

Warnings: Abandonment/emotional trauma, self blame/internalized guilt, screaming/emotional breakdown, profanity and alcohol use.

MASTERLIST

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤

The rhythmic sound of fists striking padded gloves echoed through the training room. It was late, the kind of hour where only ghosts and the broken came to sweat out demons.

Soap grunted as Leah landed a quick jab to his shoulder. “Bloody hell, woman, remind me never to piss you off.”

“Bit late for that,” she shot back, eyes focused, knuckles wrapped tight in cloth and quiet rage.

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking out his arms. “You always fight this hard, or am I just special?”

Leah moved in, sharp and fluid. “You’re just the only one dumb enough to offer himself up tonight.”

They circled. Soap kept his jabs light, careful. Leah wasn’t pulling her punches.

Not tonight.

“You ever miss someone so much,” she said suddenly, voice clipped as she ducked under a hook and struck his side, “you start to hate yourself for it?”

Soap faltered for half a second, long enough for her to sweep his leg and send him crashing onto the mat.

He groaned. “Right, well. That’s a yes, then.”

She stood over him, breath ragged. “He left me, Soap. No fight. No goodbye. Just... vanished. I went to bed with my husband and woke up to an empty house.”

Soap sat up slowly, studying her. “He never said a word about any of it.”

“Of course not.” She turned away, pacing. “He’s always been good at silence. Better than me, anyway. For months I thought he was dead. I filed missing persons reports, called Laswell, anyone who might know anything.”

“And when did you stop looking?”

Leah laughed, but it was bitter and low. “When I realized I’d been grieving a ghost who chose to haunt me.”

Soap’s jaw tightened. “Leah—”

“I would’ve forgiven a clean break,” she said quietly. “I could’ve survived a divorce. But he took the coward’s way out. And that—”

Her voice broke.

“—that I don’t know how to forgive.”

Neither noticed Gaz leaning in the doorway, silent as shadow. He’d heard the pain in her voice opening up to Soap and he wanted to hear the other side of things.

He found Price alone, whiskey glass in hand, staring at an old mission report like it might offer penance.

“You’ve got five seconds before I leave,” Price muttered without looking up.

Gaz didn’t budge. “She’s sparring. Took Soap’s pride and half his ribs.”

Price finally glanced at him. “She alright?”

“No.” Gaz folded his arms. “I take it she hasn’t been for a while, sir.”

Price said nothing.

“She thinks you’re dead inside. Like you woke up one day and just decided she didn’t matter.”

“She always mattered.” The words cracked out of him like a whip.

Gaz didn’t flinch. “Then why’d you leave?”

Price didn’t answer. Just stared past the glass like the rain outside had pulled him back five years…

Flashback – Five Years Ago

Rain fell softly outside the window of their London home. Warm lamplight painted the bedroom in gold.

Leah lay curled in their bed, asleep, arm slung across his chest. Her hair tickled his skin. Her breath, steady and soft, felt like the only peace left in the world.

John stared at the ceiling. He hadn't slept. He couldn’t.

His fingers traced the curve of her spine. She shifted slightly, murmuring his name in her sleep. It gutted him.

He’d made love to her that night like a man saying goodbye—slow, reverent, desperate.

And now... Now he was about to walk out the door.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Please don’t hate me,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m doing this to protect you.”

The demons had clawed too close to home. Black missions. Traitors in high places. He couldn’t drag her deeper into his world—into the danger it brought.

He left his wedding band on the coffee table on his way out.

And vanished.

Back in the Present

Price’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I thought if I stayed, she’d end up in a body bag. There were too many eyes on me at the time. Too many enemies. I couldn’t protect her from all of it.”

Gaz stayed quiet.

“I spent a year hunting down a leak that nearly exposed every black ops file in the MoD—including hers. Someone was looking for leverage. Families. Loved ones.”

“You thought she was safer thinking you were dead than knowing the truth.”

“I thought I could come back when it was over.” His voice cracked. “But when I finally got clear... I didn’t know how. Didn’t know if I deserved to.”

Gaz tilted his head. “You didn’t think maybe sending a goddamn letter, a divorce, something might’ve been better than letting her think you died?” He understood the captain’s side but the way he left rubbed him the wrong way.

Price set the glass down. It clinked too loudly.

“I know I broke her.” He turned away, jaw clenched. “But I couldn’t break myself enough to let her go the right way. I was a coward.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed shooting daggers at him. “She deserves to hear that from you.”

Gaz let the words hang in the air and left the captain in his pile of regret.

On the other side of the building, Leah had finished washing away the sweat from her intense sparring with Soap. She appreciated the Scottsman for letting her use him as a punching bag and for listening to her. 

Stepping out of the shower she looked at herself in the mirror, eyes landing on the necklace she wears everyday. Her hands found the gold chain, fingers toying with his and hers wedding bands. 

She told herself she would’ve taken them to the local pawn shop or thrown them away just like what he did to their wedding vows.

But she didn’t.

Her thumb rubbed the inside engraving: Always come home.

Her eyes burned at the memories that surfaced.

Five Years Ago

The scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen—he always made it too strong, and she always drank it anyway.

Leah moved through the quiet house barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, wrapped in one of John’s old shirts. Morning light slipped through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She followed the faint sound of the radio playing in the living room. Jazz. One of those old, scratchy records he only played on Sundays.

She smiled, tugging the fabric tighter around her and walked in, expecting to find him sipping coffee, half-asleep on the couch with the paper in hand.

But the room was empty.

No boots by the door. No jacket on the hook. No mug on the table.

Her smile faded.

Then she saw the ring. 

Sitting dead center on the coffee table.

Her heart dropped.

She didn’t pick it up.

She rushed around the house for any traces of him but all she saw were empty rooms and a few of his stuff missing. Her heart got heavier by the second realizing that her biggest fear was slowly happening.

She shouted his name twice, the walls didn’t respond.

When she returned to the living room, his wedding band was still there.

Her world was spinning on its axis. Heart breaking into a million pieces as the meaning of it hit her.

He left.

Her hands shook as she picked up the ring. Cold. Heavy. 

Final.

Then, she screamed.

It was the only sound the house had heard since he shut the door behind him.

Back to Present 

“Fuck you John.” 

One swift tug and the dainty chain snapped. She slapped the jewelry down on the counter and left them there in the stuffy bathroom.

🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤🪖🖤

COD Tag list:

@wllms @thriving-n-jiving @itsleeq

[faerghusfucker]

guys sound the alarms im thinking abt fe3h character design things. specifically about dimitri’s expressions.

do you guys ever think abt how subdued his expressions are???? this lil man BARELY emotes!!! his face barely moves aside from his angry and surprised expressions, and even then they don’t feel as natural as a lot of the others in the game. i think one of the perils of dimitri’s post-ts design is that his pre and post redemption expressions are the same aside from his pre-redemption eyebags. WHY ARE HIS EXPRESSIONS SO NOTHING WHEN HE’S IN BOAR MODE?????? boarmitri has killed dozens and we’re subduing his facial expressions???? whyyyyyyy for what reason!??

there’s also his tea party dialogue where he says he’s not good with facial expressions and asks if his smile is okay, which leads me to two conclusions.

1) this boy is autistic. but i think we knew this

2) dimitri is naturally way more expressive than his in-game expressions would lead you to believe.

i hc that dimitri doesn’t like his smile because he has been told by others to smile in a more presentable, more princely way. i can imagine that his natural smile is rlly toothy and would almost look like he’s baring his teeth because. i am not immune to the desire to give dimitri lion-like features. but yeah i like the idea that poor little mitri has been told off for his smile being too scary and being told to fix his face.

there’s also the dialogue in hopes where rufus describes him as having monstrous eyes and a few NPCs say his gaze is unsettling. this just screams autistic masking to me. yes i’m projecting shut up

[bullyhunter--69]

Truth Tells All (Denki Kaminari x Reader)

Summary: When a new student arrives to class and decides to use you to deminstraight her quirk, it goes a way you could never had expected.

TW: Miscommunication, lots of emotions, lowkey reader gets humiliated in front og her class but not in a second-hand embarrassment way

This day had already been shit. You had woken up late, your uniform didn’t look good today, and you had no time to do your hair. 7 am and you already wanted to go back to bed. You were the last one running into the classroom, right before Aizawa entered the room to take roll. You had no time to talk with friends, so you just sat down at your desk with a heavy sigh. 

“Alright, students— I have a surprise for you all today. We will be welcoming a foreign exchange student into the class, and I want you all to be nice to her.” 

Right on cue, the classroom door swung open and a tall, brown haired girl strutted in. Her hair was perfectly curled, her lip gloss shone in the light, and her uniform looked crisp and freshly ironed. She had this.. aura around her though. She seemed to be plotting something. 

“Hello everybody! My name is Annabel and I’m from the US! It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Her smile was big and bright, causing the room to return her greeting politely, a few people asking what her quirk was.  Annabel looked over to Aizawa. “Sir, may I give them a.. first hand look at my quirk, please?”  After a tired sigh, he nodded. “Just don’t cause any fights, it’s too early for that.” 

“Alrighty! You, green hair!” Her arm extended to point directly at Izuku, who squeaked and shook in his chair. “Yes..?”

“Who’s your favorite hero?” 

Without a second of hesitation, the words “All-Might!” Were yelled out loudly, causing his face to turn red.  This act of the new student didn’t surprise anyone, though, as she had tried it on a few other students before pointing directly to you. 

“Hmm.. who do you have a crush on?”

Shit, what the—!?

Pins and needles filled your body, your hand slapped over your mouth, and your legs shook. This feeling.. No, it can’t be..

She had a truth-telling quirk.

Your mind started to fog over as you struggled to keep the one thing you had kept secret all year down and buried. This, by far, was the toughest fight you had gone through yet.  You started to feel your grip on reality loosen, your hands falling to your side, and a bubbling sensation in your throat. Finally, as all eyes were glued to your struggling form, the dam broke and you could no longer control yourself. 

“DENKI KAMINARI OF CLASS 1-A!!”

The room fell silent as you sprang up from your desk, tears already in your eyes. And you thought today couldn’t get any worse.. As you started running out of the class, someone grabbed your wrist to stop you, but you pulled your arm hard and got out of their grip. You didn’t look back to see who it was, but you knew that desk was Denkis, so it had to be him. 

Your feet carried your panting, shaking, sobbing form down the hall and all the way into the bathroom. With one final heavy breath, you collapsed onto the cool tile floor and lay your head against the wall.  You knew Denki didn’t like you back— it was obvious he had eyes on some girls, or even guys, that weren’t you. He was the best friend that couldn’t ever be more. The one you loved with your entire heart and soul, but only ever got platonic affection in return. And here you are, having a panic attack in the bathroom while you were sure everyone was laughing at you back in the classroom. Fat tears had already soaked your red-hot cheeks, your trembling hands running through your messy hair. You were a wreck and there was no way you were going back to class like this..

So you stood up and made your way out of the school, down the street, and back to your dorm to lock yourself in there for however long you could without getting kicked out of UA. Back in the classroom, it was a mess. Kirishima and Sero were loudly cheering on Denki about his crush liking him back, Mina and Jiro were giving the new girl a piece of their mind for putting you through something like this, Izuku was discussing with Iida what to do about you leaving class, and finally, there was Aizawa.

“That’s Enough, class.”

As soon as his voice was heard, the room fell silent. 

“Annabel, go to the office. I’m writing you up for inappropriate quirk usage.”

As Aizawa escorted her out of the room and gave her directions to the office, she was rambling on about how she didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Mina, Kiri, what do I do?” Denki rushed over to the two with worry-filled features. He did like you back... but he knew you didn’t know that yet. 

“Well, you go find her and tell her, obviously!” Mina said with a big smile.

“Yes, but it would be better to let her calm down first. She went through a lot just now, and I know she won’t respond well if you confess now.” Kirishima added, putting a hand on Denki's shoulder.  The blonde gave a small nod. “I’ll talk to her tonight. Let’s hope this incident doesn’t change how she feels.” 

Back in your dorm, you lie in your bed. Your uncomfortable uniform was tossed somewhere on your floor, your shoes were sitting in your desk chair, and you had changed into the hoodie you had stolen from Denki months ago when it was cold out. He thought he lost it but you had just kept it a secret, it felt like your last hope to have him as yours. You didn’t have any of your things since you had just up and left the classroom— hopefully someone will bring your stuff by.

You had been head over heels for the blonde ever since 2 weeks into UA. He welcomed you into his friend group, was always there when you needed someone, and always opened up to you in return. He had the most gorgeous eyes, his hair always laid just right, and you always admired his fighting style and quirk. Everything about him was phenomenal to you.. and just because of a new student you felt you were going to lose that forever.

You couldn’t tell how long you laid there before drifting off into an empty, dreamless sleep. It felt like days and seconds all at once, but a soft knock at your door brought you out of the sleep you were trying to get.  As your eyes cracked open, your heart sank. Luckily, your bedroom lights were off, so pretending not to be there was easy. If that was Denki.. god, you didn’t know what you would do. He was surely going to drop your friendship-

“(Y/N)?”

A soft voice called from the other side of your door— it wasn’t Denki, it was Kirishima. This didn’t solve all of your worries though, he and Denki were best friends, after all. 

“Mina had to stay after class to work on some school work, so I brought you your bag and books— I hope you’re doing okay. Everyone is already eating dinner, and if you don’t come down, I’ll make sure to save you some, alright? You gotta eat since you left before lunch started. Your stuff is right outside the door.”

There was the sound of things being gently set against your door, followed by soft footsteps leading off towards the stairs. Kirishima was amazing..  With a heavy sigh, you hoisted yourself out of bed and approached your door with hesitation. As quickly and quietly as you could, you grabbed your stuff from your doorstep and locked your door back. You were happy Kirishima was giving you space, since you were just going to ignore this. Ignore what happened and your crush on Denki. This wasn’t going to be something you’d let ruin your life. 

Since you had slept the day away, sleeping again wasn’t an option for you, and you were getting pretty hungry. It had been a few hours since Kirishima had dropped your stuff off. Looking at the clock next to your bed, you saw it was almost midnight. Closing the book you had in your lap and placing it to the side, you stood up with a crack in your knee and a pop in your back. 

“Fuck, man.. I shouldn’t have slept once I got back here...” You muttered to yourself as you opened your door as silently as you could. Everyone should be asleep at this point in the night.. Creeping down the stairs quickly, you ran to the kitchen as quietly as possible. The only true sound coming from you was the growl of your hungry stomach. Hopefully, Kirishima actually saved you some dinner to reheat. Luckily for you, it was sitting right in the fridge with your name and a cute little smiley face written on a sticky note placed on top. Perfect.. Now you just had to throw this in the microwave and get back to your room to eat.

Well, that was the plan, until soft footsteps were heard approaching the kitchen.

“(Y/N)..?”

Fuck.

It was Denki.

Your body tensed, your stomach dropped, and the food you were placing into the microwave almost spilled. Your hands clenched around the microwave safe plate in your hands and you started to shake.

“Denki, please, just.. let me get my food and go.”

Denki could tell by the instability in your voice that tears were already filling your eyes, and he was right.  The lump in your throat stung, and your eyes were aching with tears. Your stomach felt like it had shifting knots in it, and there was a metallic taste in your mouth from the bite you had on your inner cheeks. This was heartbreaking.  Denki slowly approached you, leaning against the island in the kitchen behind you.

  “I’m not going to make you talk about this if you don’t want to, but I do want to at least tell you something before you head back to your room. I’ve.. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and I promise, I’m not going to reject you. That girl did something dirty and violating to you, exposing you like that in front of everyone, and I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I know you’re hurting right now— you’re my best friend, I can tell when things are going on in your head. But.. just know that your feelings are returned, alright? I like you back.”

And with that, Denki turned and left to return to his room to turn in for the night.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been days since that night. 4 days, to be exact. Every day that passed, you stayed near silent in all of your classes, avoided Denki as best as possible, and cooped yourself up in your dorm every second being around the rest of your class wasn’t required.  Every night, you lie awake thinking about what Denki said. It felt so... real, but unbelievable. There was no way in hell he felt the same way back. Not when there were so many people around him who would be better suited for him as a partner. You were just.. you, and that was it. You weren’t the strongest, or the fastest, and sure as hell not the most attractive.

What you didn’t know, though, is that Denki spent every one of these nights awake and thinking as well. He thought about how perfect you were, how much he absolutely adored you, and how much he wanted you to feel the love he truly felt for you that he had kept locked up for months. It pained him to see you doubt yourself all day, every day, during training, math class, and with yourself as you are. He couldn’t keep watching you feel like this, so he was going to put a stop to it as best he could. Sitting at his desk at 2 in the morning, he grabbed a pen and ripped a piece of paper out of his English notebook. 

‘Meet me at the front gates at 6 pm tonight. Wear something comfy, it might get cold. -Denki <3’

It was the best he could do as of right now, since you seemed to be actively ignoring him ever since his late-night kitchen confession a few days ago. You had been the last one to class every day since the morning of the forced confession caused by that stupid girl with the truth-telling quirk, so Denki gently laid the note on top of your desk when he got to class himself.  Moments later, you slipped into the classroom and into your chair silently— another habit you seemed to pick up since the confession. Noticing the note on your desk made your anxiety spike once more. Your hands shakily picked it up and opened it with caution.

As your eyes scanned the writing, your brain took in the words slowly. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat, you felt a few sets of eyes on you. You knew it had to be Denki, and maybe even Kirishima and Sero. Disregarding whoever was watching, you shoved the note deep into your bag and pulled out the book you needed for first period.

This day was the worst yet. Every second felt nauseatingly slow, and every class felt like boring mush that your brain just couldn’t take in anymore. Denki was the only thing that filled your thoughts. It ranged from horrible thoughts of him laughing at you for thinking he wanted to date you, all the way to thoughts of the perfect life with him. It was exhausting, and honestly, you were still debating meeting up with him tonight.

The end of the school day finally came and, once again, you rushed back to your room. It was time to truly debate this... whatever you’d call it, with Denki. Maybe he just wanted to tell you something privately, maybe it was a date. Hell, you didn’t know, but this feeling was the worst thing you had ever felt. 

Finally, with a deep sigh and a straight face, you decided— you would meet him at 6. 

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs and to the front door. There was no need to dress to impress, so you wore something casual— Denkis hoodie, jeans, and your everyday sneakers.  Your hand grasped the front door knob gently, and you stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. This was the moment you could turn back and just try to put this all behind you, but... You couldn’t do that to Denki. Not after all of the months spent with him as your best friend, not after all of the time he spent making you laugh and feel loved, and not after the fact that he might just be taking you on a date tonight.

With your head held high, you turned the knob of the door and stepped out into the cool, autumn air. Denki was right, it actually was chilly. Your steps were filled with determination as you approached the front gates, just as the letter had requested of you. It was 5:59pm, and you didn’t see him.. until his head popped out from around the gates with a soft smile. “You actually came..”

“I couldn’t just ignore you forever, huh?” You shrugged your shoulders, eyes focused on the leaves decorating the walkway. Denki took a sudden, deep breath at your words. He didn’t want you to feel forced, but he had to get you alone again somehow. 

“Walk with me?” He offered with a gentle voice, holding out a hand on the off chance you wanted it. To no surprise, though, you avoided his hand as you stepped forward. “Where are we going?” Your eyes flickered up to his with a questioning gaze. He had your trust, but this was still so scary..

“Well, I figured the Boba shop down the street? Today is their least busiest day, and it’s the only shop with your favorite flavor.” He guided you past the gates and in the direction of the shop he was talking about, and you followed without any hesitation. “That sounds good, it’s a nice little shop.”

The walk there was silent, but your shoulders and hands kept gently brushing each other, which caused a deep blush to form on both of your faces. A few times, you even tried to step further away from Denki, but his big steps made that impossible. Once in the shop, you found the booth you both would be settling into, and Denki ordered for both of you so you wouldn’t have to. After paying and getting both drinks, he sat himself in the seat across from you and handed you your drink. 

“Listen, (Y/N), I meant what I said in the kitchen a few nights ago. That wasn’t pity, that wasn’t bullshit to make you feel better— I’ve loved you since freshman year and nothing has ever lessened that. Especially not the fact that you confessed your feelings in front of the entire class.. But I am genuinely sorry that happened to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat hard, and your breath hitched. A big lump was starting to form in your throat that was hard to swallow away. “Denki?”

He was watching and listening intently, on the edge of his seat for your response. “Yeah?”

“I.. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, a-and ignoring you.. it was so scary. I thought I was gonna lose you..” A sniffle left you, but you continued as you looked up into Denkis' eyes. Tears filled your waterline, threatening to spill over. 

“But.. Your actions and words have shown me I have absolutely nothing to worry about.. and so we are clear, I do truly love you. I’ve felt this way since Freshman year as well..” Chuckling softly, your hand gently reached for Denkis— intertwining your fingers together. 

“Thank you for the Boba date, Denki.” Finally, a sweet, wide smile covered your face, and you leaned over the table to give his cheek a soft kiss. 

His eyes went wide, and he smiled brighter than you’d seen him smile all week, his hand squeezing yours tightly.

 “Thank you for joining me on our first date of many, (Y/N).”

[achillesvslz]

sny variant x a male ready w the death note... (pls :3)

" UNMASKING GOD " —M. Grayson

Info: Full Mask Mark x M! Kira! Reader, emotional abuse, verbal arguments, toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of mass death, moral ambiguity, psychological manipulation, betrayal, dehumanization, implied past violence, references to murder, emotional devastation, moral conflict, identity crisis, god complex, surveillance threat

Synopsis: He finds out you’re Kira. You’re his lover. You’re just human… but not just anything.

PART 1

You know something’s wrong the moment you step inside.

The lights are off. The windows are open despite the wind. And the Death Note—your Death Note—is on the table, fully visible, pages fluttering slightly like it’s breathing.

Mark stands in front of it, still in the mask, still in his suit. He hasn’t moved. He doesn’t even look up.

He doesn’t need to.

“He’s been standing there a while,” your Shinigami says, voice low and rasping behind you. “Staring like it’ll confess to him if he just stares long enough.”

You close the door behind you quietly. Not because you're afraid. Just… tired.

“So,” you say softly. “You found it.”

His shoulders rise just barely. A breath.

“I went looking for your hoodie,” he says. “You left it in the closet.”

He turns, slowly.

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

You nod once. There’s no use pretending. There’s no running from it now.

“It’s real, then,” he says. “The rumors. The unexplained deaths. The patterns. The sudden, calculated morality plays. You. You’re Kira.”

“Yes,” you say. Simply. Quietly.

Silence.

“You lied to me,” he says.

“No. I didn’t tell you,” you reply. “That’s different.”

Mark’s head tilts, the expressionless white mask reflecting your face in its surface.

“You lied by pretending you were human.”

“I am human.”

“No,” he says. “You’re a murderer with a god complex.”

“And you’re a murderer with a superiority complex,” you snap back. “Don’t you dare act like you’re above me.”

Mark steps forward, slowly.

“I’ve killed in war. In defense. To stop worse things.”

“You’ve torn men in half because they looked at you wrong!” you shout, pointing at him. “You’ve destroyed buildings, homes, cities, lives. Don’t you come at me with a moral scale like yours isn’t shattered.”

Mark breathes in through the modulator.

“You kill people in secret. You play judge, jury, and executioner. You hide.”

“And you? You kill in broad daylight and call it justice. That doesn’t make you better, Mark—it just makes you louder.”

He moves fast. Not violent—not yet—but fast enough to make your pulse spike. He stops inches from your face.

“I thought I loved you,” he says. Voice like ice.

You stare back. “You loved a version of me that only existed because you never asked who I really was.”

He doesn’t move. He just stands there, breathing like something cracked inside him.

“I stayed,” you say. “Even when I saw you slaughter a man on the news. I didn’t run. I didn’t flinch. I saw the blood on your hands and chose to stay.”

“Because you’re used to blood,” he growls. “Because you think it makes you special.”

“No,” you say. “Because I thought maybe we understood each other. Monsters don’t always have to be alone.”

That makes something in him shudder.

Mark turns, pacing. He’s unraveling—not violently, but like glass cracking from within.

“You told me you didn’t like violence,” he says.

“I don’t.”

“You told me you wanted peace.”

“I do.”

“Then explain the body count.”

“Explain yours.”

He turns fast, mask inches from your face again.

“I fight to protect people.”

“And I kill to protect them. The difference is you want to be loved for it. I don’t need that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re noble,” he hisses.

“I’m not,” you say. “But I’m honest. You’re the liar here, Mark.”

He actually jerks back.

“Yeah,” you say. “You wear that mask like it’s armor, but it’s just denial. You tell yourself you’re better than your father—but deep down, you’re terrified you’re exactly like him.”

That shuts him up.

You press your hand against your chest. “You loved me because I didn’t ask you to be good. I just let you be. And now that you see I’m just as monstrous, you can’t stand the reflection.”

Mark doesn’t speak. His fists are clenched.

“You going to kill me?” you whisper. “End it here?”

“No,” he finally says, hollow. “I want to. But I can’t.”

His voice breaks like something rusted apart.

“Because I don’t know what’s worse. That you’re Kira... or that I still want to forgive you.”

That stings more than anything else.

“I never wanted to be forgiven,” you whisper.

“I know,” he breathes. “That’s what makes this worse.”

Mark walks to the notebook. Stares at it.

He doesn’t burn it. Doesn’t touch it. He just… looks.

Then:

“I’m not leaving it here.”

“Then take it.”

He does.

But when he reaches the door, he stops.

“You’re going to be watched. Every step. Every breath. If you ever touch another page—”

“I know,” you say. “You’ll kill me.”

He nods.

Then he’s gone. The door closes behind him with the quiet weight of a coffin lid. You stand in the dark, still.

[beanarie]

fic writer asks: 23, 29, 30!

(Yes, I am angling for a pic of Reggie!)

also including questions from other darling folks @nzchance @queermccoy @eidetictelekinetic @emphasisonthehomo thank you! ☺️

(6) When do you title your fics? Before you write them? As you write them? While posting to AO3 and that “Work Title” field is staring at you?

hm, sometimes a title clicks a chapter or two into writing, usually from my chill vibes playlist, but all too often i have a finished fic in front of me and i'm like "...shit" then i've got the ao3 post in one tab and wikiquote in the other. that happened with "an awful and dreary blank" and "got my head check by a jumbo jet" came close.

(7) Navigate to your complete list of works on AO3. What are your top 5 Additional Tags?

hurt/comfort, whump, hurt [character name], emotional hurt/comfort, major character injury. i have a niche okay!

(9) The two fandoms you’ve written the most have been suddenly crossed with each other! What AU are you writing?

elementary/9-1-1 let's gooo. i flipped a coin to decide which cast gets home court advantage and elementary won, so bucktommy are in new york for this thing going on with knicks (playoffs? idk). buck spies something going on outside the garden, jumps in to save the victim, and he succeeds, but the victim is weird and hostile to him in front of a hundred witnesses, and buck gets taken in for questioning the next day when the victim turns up dead.

sherlock & joan take an interest in the case because bell tells them about how their prime suspect is a puppy of a guy with a decorated history as an la firefighter. bell knows about some of this because tommy came to the precinct like what the fuck are you people doing this man flays himself when he hurts someone's feelings, he's not a murderer. joan looks at the victim's pocket square and clocks him as a diplomat from luxembourg or where tf ever, setting off an academic lecture about thread content from sherlock to bell that makes him roll his eyes. joanlock go down a rabbit hole while buck stays at the brownstone (the hotel banned him for being a possible murderer) and babysits arthur.

(12) Do you write in order, jump around the draft, or a mix? Something else?

i've seen my style described as dessert first. i virtually never write in order.

(21) Without getting into any discourse, just thinking as a writer approaching characters, would you ever write about your NOTP? If you did, do you think that would change how you feel about it? (If you’ve done this, how did it go?)

not as a main focus, but i've incorporated canon notps to explore ripple effects on the characters i'm actually writing about, how joan felt about mycroft, what people think about tommy and abby, etc. it doesn't make me suddenly positive about the pairing, but forcing it to be part of the world and the history of the characters helps nudge it into being more of a neutral thing.

(22) Do you have a fixed writing routine, or do you write when you have time? Is there a time of day when you prefer to write?

my routine is chaos. ideas flow through my brain and dry up so quickly that i basically just keep the app open on my phone constantly. for "the safety that's evaded me" i had a rough plan and for the first two weeks i was able to limit myself to a short burst once a day, closing the app when i had a scene or a decent chunk of one down. that was nice. i didn't fuss quite as much about editing and making it perfect.

(23) What is your #1 distraction when you’re trying to write? If it’s a pet, post a pic

herself regifer wrecks (no angling required. i will send you photos any time❤️)

(29) Have you ever actually remembered one of those 3am “I’ll remember it in the morning” ideas?

once or twice! usually when i write it down though it's choppy and doesn't flow anywhere near as perfectly as it did in my head. love brains!

(30) Finish this sentence with your fandom’s variation(s): No beta, we die like _________

i've seen "like buck did for 3 minutes and 17 seconds" but i propose "like bobby did. no really. i'm sad too but firedad is in the ground"

[lush-escape]

INDIGO

Part 5

Southern!Jason Todd

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Part 11 || Part 12 || Epilogue ||

You fold your arms and rest your chin on top of them. "Yeah, she was good like that." Your response is quiet, looking down at the worn tile of the kitchen floor.

You tilt your head so your cheek was on top of your folded arms.

"Can't believe you got arrested." You try to imagine Jason handcuffed and thrown in the small town jail, it's a hard picture to conjure up.

Jason sighs, a mix of shame and humor on his face at the memory.

"Yeah, I'm just lucky I was young and all the arrests were for minor offenses. Never had to go to prison or nothin' like that."

He looks at you and tries to lighten the mood with a smirk. "Although, I gotta say, I looked pretty good in handcuffs."

"Shut up, you're stupid." You respond with a smile. A small huff of amusement leaves my nose.

And suddenly you're both fourteen again, trying to do your homework at the kitchen table, hurling insults back and forth at one another.

The nostalgia sits heavy in your stomach, makes you smile. Soft but sad.

"I bet you looked real stupid gettin' arrested." You quip back.

Jason laughs, the sound booming in the kitchen. It's a sound you haven't heard in years, and it's music to your ears.

"Oh, I did. I mean, I was a complete mess. Yellin', spittin', tryin' to fight anyone who came within ten feet of me."

He shakes his head, a small amused smirk on his face. "I was a god damn menace, darlin'. No denying that."

Jason's recount of the memory is funny, and it helps lighten the heavy mood a bit. But there's still a hint of melancholy in your chest, a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia.

You try to shake it away, but it sticks to you like molasses. You shift on the floor and look at Jason.

"How'd you end up at the Wayne Ranch? Last I'd heard, you were all about sticking it to the man." You ask curiously. Jason chuckles again, amused by your question.

"That I was, darlin'. I hated pretty much anything that was deemed establishment. Didn't hold any respect for authority or those with power." He rubs the back of his neck, a small smirk on his face.

"But... Mr. Wayne gave me a chance. An opportunity. He saw something in me, when I was at my worst. Gave me a job, and..." He pauses, his expression growing more serious.

"And a purpose."

There's a pause as Jason collects his thoughts. "Mr. Wayne isn't like other rich folks lookin' to make a quick buck. He actually cares about making a difference. He's... a decent man."

Jason meets your gaze again, this time with a vulnerability you wouldn't have expected years ago.

"He saved me, darlin'. In more ways than one."

The emotion in Jason's voice is palpable, his vulnerability and sincerity are plain on his face. There's something about the way he speaks about Bruce Wayne that strikes a chord. It's as if Bruce isn't just a boss or an employer, but a mentor and a friend.

You reach out and gently rest your hand on his arm, a subtle gesture of comfort.

"I'm glad you found him," You tell him soft and sincere, like you're kids at a sleep over keeping secrets.

Jason's gaze stays locked on yours, and he feels his heart thrum as your hand rests on his arm. Your touch is warm and gentle, mire than what he's grown used to over the years. He's not used to anyone touching him like this and it feels both foreign and familiar.

"I am too," he says, his voice quiet.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should say what he wants to say next. But then he takes a deep breath and dives in.

"I missed you." The words hang in the air between you two. Jason's expression is guarded, like he's expecting you to laugh or dismiss him.

But you don't. You would never.

You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the honesty in his words. For a moment, he's not the cocky, confident Jason that you remember. He's raw and real, and it makes your heart ache.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

His gaze never leaves yours, and he feels like he could drown in your eyes.

"Why... why didn't you ever call?" His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

"I just..." You sigh, looking away with a small frown. "I got so caught up in school. I wanted to call, I did. I was just swamped all the time." You answer. It feels like a shitty answer even if it is the truth.

"I asked my mom about you whenever I talked to her." You try to offer.

Jason's expression softens a little at your explanation, and he can see the guilt etched across your face.

"I know you were busy," he responds, his voice still quiet but understanding. "I get it. Life gets in the way, sometimes."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Your mama was always quick to remind me how well you were doing in school. She was proud as hell of you, you know. She loved talkin' 'bout ya."

A small smile graces your lips at the mention of your mom. It's easy to remember her words, her encouragement, her support. How she had believed in you, even when you doubted yourself.

"She always had a way of making me believe I could do anything," the words come out soft but thick with emotion, it's obvious you're trying not to cry.

There's a beat of silence. "She was a tough lady," Jason agrees with a small smirk on his face. "But she was also the sweetest."

"I still miss her, you know."

You can hear the grief in his voice, and you feel a sharp sadness knowing that she's gone.

"So do I." You respond, my voice shaky. "Everyday."

_____

taglist: @lettucel0ver

[demie90s]

She loves me, I Promise

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Nika Mühl x READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST

⭑ pairing: Nika Mühl x reader (Nika!fem!reader)

⭑ summary: You’re doing a Get Ready With Me live and Nika’s in the background, minding her business… until she’s not.

⭑ genre: humor, flirtation, casual chaos, team teasing

⭑ warnings: language, flirting, eye contact that deserves jail

⭑ word count: ~0.6k

⸻

Your phone’s propped up against an empty Stanley, angled just right to catch the smooth curve of your cheekbone under dorm lighting. You’re half-dressed, half-focused, and completely lying to everyone watching this impromptu “GRWM for film day” live.

“Y’all, I really woke up and chose to be cute,” you say, pulling on your socks with one leg up like you’re in a Vogue shoot. “Like, I didn’t even stretch. I just stood up and was fine.”

Nika’s across the room on her laptop, headphones on, hoodie up, pretending not to hear a word. The comments immediately catch her shadowy figure in the background.

📱 Comments:

is that nika? why she look like she bouta file taxes.

she breathing real judgmental rn.

girl blink twice if she got u hostage.

You glance behind you. “Yup, that’s my emotional support Croatian. Say hi, Nika.”

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even twitch.

“Nika,” you say again, this time using your softest, most passive-aggressive voice. “My followers think you hate me.”

Still no reaction. Until she finally lifts her gaze, dead in the camera’s direction. “I do.”

You blink. “…She loves me, y’all. She’s just European.”

Nika gets up, walks past you to grab a protein shake from the mini fridge, and everyone in the chat notices two things:

1. She���s fine.

2. She’s wearing your shorts.

📱 Comments:

oh she got the WAG shorts on

those ain’t hers. I know your wardrobe when I see it.

pls y/n get her out my screen before I act up.

You lower your voice but keep it playful. “You gonna act like I didn’t buy those?”

“I’m gonna act like you didn’t say that on live,” Nika fires back, and the way she says it without looking at you is somehow worse.

You swallow, playing it cool, mascara wand paused mid-air. “They love us, babe. Embrace it.”

“I am embracing silence,” she mutters, dropping back onto the bed.

Your phone buzzes. Paige texted:

: why she got you blushing on camera like that 😭

: she playing you like a violin and YOU LETTING HER

You laugh so loud the camera shakes. “Y’all ever met someone who can ruin your entire train of thought just by looking at you like you’re the problem?”

Nika’s eyes flicker up again. “You are the problem.”

“But like… a sexy one?” you offer, hopeful.

A long pause. Then she tilts her head. “Eh. Mid.”

You gasp, hurt but entertained. “That’s crazy, coming from someone who literally kissed me with tongue not even two nights ago.”

You forgot the live was still on. Chat did not.

📱 Comments:

WITH TONGUE?????

NAH GO BACK.

oh so yall just giving up our dreams like that now huh.

paige ain’t the only guard with handles cause nika got u FOLDED.

You laugh nervously. Nika smirks without breaking eye contact.

“I’m ending this live,” you announce dramatically.

“No you’re not,” Nika says, already rolling over and grabbing a hoodie to throw over your head. “You love attention too much.”

“And you love me, but here we are.”

She chucks a pillow at you.

⸻

You end the live ten minutes later, after Nika steals your phone, flips the camera, and roasts your skincare routine for the masses.

Last comment before it cuts out:

petition for Nika to do a skincare routine titled “how to survive dating a you.”

[ephemeral-love-4]

Captivated

── .✦ Avis Amberg X Reader

જ⁀➴ A/N : This is the concerningly short sequel of mesmerised!! Uh, idk what else to say, guys..

╰┈➤Chapters : 1/3

Word count : 3k

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

July 25th, 1948

I woke with a pounding behind my eyes— an angry, throbbing headache that pulsed in rhythm with the ache in my chest. My throat was dry, my skin sticky with sweat and shame. I didn’t need to open my eyes to remember what I’d done.

What was wrong with me?

Why had I gone to her?

Why had I kissed her?

And why did her lips feel the same as they used too?

I forced myself to sit up, the silk sheets tangling around my legs as the room tilted slightly. The air smelt like my perfume mixed with the scent of Whiskey and regrets. I pressed a hand to my temple, trying to will the night away; It didn’t work

I staggered into the bathroom. The light above the mirror flickered before holding steady, casting an unforgiving glow over my reflection. My hair was a mess, my lipstick smeared at the corners of my mouth like a smirk gone sour. Mascara ran faint shadows beneath my eyes.

I gripped the edge of the sink to keep from falling apart entirely.

How was I supposed to face her today?

How do you look someone in the eye after accusing them of desiring your younger self… after comparing them to your shit excuse of a husband?

I splashed my face with cold water, bracing myself as the chill cut through the heat in my cheeks. I tied my robe tighter around my waist, drawing myself up.

I am Avis Amberg.

A name people whispered in envy and fear.

I can survive anything.

May 26th, 1935

I lay awake in bed, staring at the empty space beside me where Ace used to sleep, before business trips became more important than warm limbs and whispered conversations. The sheets on his side were cold, unbothered, like he’d never been there at all.

The silence of the house was broken only by the gentle tick of the grandfather clock and the occasional creak of the wood settling. I turned to my side and stared out the window, watching moonlight paint silver lines across the polished floor.

Claire was asleep in her crib across the room, her tiny body curled beneath a knit blanket. She was breathing softly, undisturbed by the world’s cruelties. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and crossed the room to her. My silk nightgown brushed the floor as I moved, the hem weighted with exhaustion.

I leaned down and gently caressed her soft cheek. She stirred, lips parting with a little sigh, and turned away from my touch. Recoiled.

I frowned.

Another person who couldn’t stand my touch.

Yet

She was beautiful. So young. So untouched by the world.

She reminded me of Y/N.

Y/N, with that defiant spark in her eye and those capable hands that used to know every inch of my body like a map worth studying.

Y/N, who used to fill my nights with laughter and cigarette smoke, tangled limbs and breathless whispers.

Y/N, who once looked at me like I was art.

Now she was too busy conquering Hollywood. Too busy smiling on magazine covers and shaking hands at award ceremonies. Too busy charming every man and woman in the room, including my husband. Especially my husband

Because of course he favored her.

He didn’t look at me anymore— not since the pregnancy. Not since I became soft, emotional, worn down by motherhood and the brutal intimacy of being needed by someone who couldn’t speak.

He called me horrendous behind closed doors. Told me I was different now. That I “used to be fun.”

But Y/N? She was still radiant. Still clever and sharp, still everything I used to be before I started playing the role of “wife.”

And now they work together. He’d hired her after I introduced them, after I foolishly vouched for her talent, thinking it would bring us closer.

But all I did was hand him the one woman who could outshine me without even trying.

Y/N who used to look at me like I was the only thing worth staying for was now collecting trophies like I once collected love letters.

Maybe she had stopped waiting.

Maybe I had, too.

But I never stopped looking.

July 25th 1948

I open the car door and step onto the set.

The Golden Tip gas station stands like a monument— chipped gold paint, flashy signage, and a history. I used to come here for quick thrills with nameless boys, the kind who smelled like cigarettes and sweat and didn’t ask questions. Now it’s a movie set.

I scan the surroundings, the actors, the crew, Henry, Ernie. And of course, Y/N.

Next to Archie, a script clutched loosely in one hand, the other gesturing mid-sentence. She laughs at something he says. It’s a performance, of course. It always is with her. Even when the cameras aren’t rolling, she knows how to play the part of the confident starlet. Untouched. Unbothered. As if last night was nothing but a forgotten rehearsal.

I lean against the hood of my car, shielding my eyes from the sun. A movie about homosexuals, about the shame of hiding, the weight of silence. It’s bold. Groundbreaking, even. But we’ve broken the world with “Meg” and now we’re about to break it again; America may never admit it, but it’s obsessed with the very things it claims to hate.

Y/N’s gaze flicks to me, just for a second. Barely enough to register. But I see it.

Before I can step forward, Ellen bounds up to me, all bright smiles and enthusiasm. “Avis! The production’s going wonderfully. We’re about to shoot the first reel!”

I raise a brow. “Already? We only started filming a few weeks ago.”

“We did.. but the cast is phenomenal. And Y/N’s been a tremendous help.”

Of course she has.

“She’s a natural-born actress,” Ellen continues, oblivious to the storm rolling behind my eyes. “She keeps everyone inspired with the way she delivers her lines.

I hum, my lips curving into a razor-thin smile. “How fortunate for you all.”

Before she can continue her love letter to Y/N’s professionalism, I cut her off. “I should get back to the studio. I have other films to oversee.”

Ellen blinks, her smile faltering just slightly. “Oh! Of course, still up for lunch later?”

I offer a brisk nod, already halfway turned away.

I slide into the driver’s seat, shut the door, hand on the ignition, ready to escape. But just as I reach for the gearshift, I see her.

Y/N.

She’s at the passenger door, leaning against it like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there.

“Avis,” she says softly, as though she’s testing the taste of my name again. It slips from her lips like an afterthought, but I know better. There’s weight to it. History.

I don’t respond at first. I let my eyes drift over her, slow and calculated. She’s calm. Impossibly composed. If last night rattled her, she doesn’t show it.

“You’re good at pretending,” I say finally, voice low. “Not even a twitch this morning. Impressive.”

She doesn’t flinch. “You left. What was I supposed to do? Chase you down the street?”

I smirk without humor. “No. That’s never been your style.”

The silence between us is thick. The kind that holds history. The kind that remembers.

“You were drunk,” she says after a pause. “I didn’t want you to wake up hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I snap, quicker than I intend. My voice wavers at the end. God, how I wish I could hate her.

She tilts her head slightly, studying me. The same way she used to when we were young, back when she still believed she could read me like a script.

“I just hate how you make me feel like...” I trail off. I don’t finish. I can’t. Instead, I avert my gaze, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.

She shifts, like she’s about to say something— something sentimental, something stupid, something that’ll make me crumble. And so I raise my hand, palm out. A quiet, universal signal to stop.

“No,” I say firmly. “I have a studio to run. I can’t afford to spend my time thinking about... you.”

But I do. All morning, I’ve thought of nothing but her. How her lips tasted, how her voice cracked when she tried defending herself, how she looked at me like I was worth more than any oscar she’s won.

Y/N nods. Her expression is unreadable now. God, she was a good actress. “Have a nice day, Avis.”

And just like that, she turns and walks away. Back to the set. Back to Archie. Back to everything that isn’t me.

I grip the steering wheel tightly, fingers white around the leather. The engine hums beneath my feet. I could call her back. I could shout her name, beg for one more moment. But I don’t.

Instead, I drive. Back to the studio. Back to a desk full of scripts and paperwork and decisions. Back to the only place where I can drown her out again.

April 12th 1933

She’s haunting me. And it’s all my fault.

I was the one who introduced her to Ace. I was the one who sang his praises, painted his studio as salvation. I practically shoved the pen into her hand. I told her it was the opportunity of a lifetime. And now? Now she’s everywhere.

Y/N. Hollywood’s darling. The starlet with the eyes made for close-ups. She glows brighter than any marquee she stands beneath.

“One damn film and she’s suddenly America’s sweetheart,” I mutter to myself, sitting alone at the kitchen table. My hands twist anxiously around a glass of water, condensation pooling beneath my fingertips. I can’t even get drunk anymore. The weight of pregnancy has robbed me of that particular escape, too.

All I can do now is sit. And think. And remember.

I am changing. Again.

Becoming what I once feared. What I used to mock in the dressing room mirrors of my youth. A wife. A mother. I am slipping into a role I didn’t audition for, and every night I watch the woman who used to be my entire world live the life I gave up.

I should be happy for her. God, I try to be.

But the words curdle on my tongue before I can swallow them.

I tell myself it’s just hormones. Mood swings, cravings, irrational jealousy. That’s what all the books say. But it’s not. It’s something deeper. It’s something raw. Something knotted around my ribs like barbed wire.

It’s envy.

Real. Vicious. Rotting envy.

It’s in my blood now. It coats every bone in me with its sticky bitterness. It blinds me every time I see her on a magazine cover or hear her name in someone else’s mouth. The girl who used to share cigarettes with me on fire escapes. The girl who used to sleep in my bed when she was too drunk to get home. The girl who kissed me behind the scenes, whispered dreams in the middle of the night.

Now she’s a billboard. A headline. A statue molded out of everything I lost.

I push the chair back with a frustrated scrape and rise to my feet. The house is too still. Too clean. Too curated. The kind of silence that makes your thoughts echo.

Where am I going? I don’t know. I just need air. Something real.

Ace, of course, is nowhere to be found. He only comes home when the press demands it. When appearances must be maintained. The rest of the time, he’s at the studio. His little kingdom basking in the glow of her. He speaks of her brilliance with a spark in his eye I haven’t seen in months. Not when he looks at me.

Not since I started to show.

I press a hand to the slight swell of my stomach as I slip outside, barefoot on the flagstone. The garden greets me with its strange, moonlit serenity. It’s one of the only places in this house that feels alive.

Ace had it planted just after we were married. Rows and rows of roses. His idea of a grand romantic gesture. Deep reds, soft pinks, blinding whites. A symbol of his “eternal love.” As if love could be measured in quantity.

And yet, nestled among the sea of roses is something else. Something rarer.

A single bush of carnations.

I walk toward it, my fingertips grazing the petals as I pass. The roses are bold, predictable. Dramatic, like him. But the carnations; they’re delicate. Frilled and quiet. They don’t beg for attention. They just exist, graceful and enduring.

I stop before the carnation bush and crouch, placing a steadying hand on my belly as I pluck one of the blooms. Pale pink. Almost white. It rests between my fingers like a memory I forgot I still had.

Y/N sent them.

I remember now. A letter attached to a small packet of seeds, years ago. Back when she still wrote me long letters from hotel rooms and sound stages. Before her words became brief and empty. Before Ace turned her into a commodity.

Why?

Why did she send carnations?

They’re not dramatic. Not loud. They’re not red like passion, or white like purity. They’re the in-between. A flower of devotion, yes— but also mourning. Remembrance.

They were us, weren’t they?

Back when the world was smaller and kinder. When the nights belonged to us. Before the fame and marriage got in the way. When I still believed there was space in my life for desire. For softness. For her.

I bring the carnation to my nose, inhaling its faint scent. It’s not sweet like a rose. It’s subtle. Easy to miss unless you know what you’re looking for.

Did she know I’d plant them? That they’d survive?

Did she want me to remember her every time I passed them in the garden?

I clutch the flower tightly and press it to my lips, eyes burning against the cool night air.

God, I miss her.

Just not the woman she is now, the one who glows beneath camera lights and signs autographs in gold ink.

I miss the girl she used to be.

And the girl I used to be with her.

July 30th 1948

“You actually managed to get the first reel? Colour me surprised and insanely impressed,” I smiled at Raymond, even as my fingers grazed the edge of the metal canister like it might cut me.

“It’s just the first few minutes of the film,” Raymond explained, eyes still bright with the buzz of creation. “But the cast? She’s phenomenal. I’m still in shock that I get to work with the Y/N.”

I nearly crushed the reel in my grip.

I forced a tight smile, my lips aching with the effort.

“Yes. She’s quite... great, isn’t she?”

Henry thankfully called his name from across the room, and Raymond gave me an apologetic smile before hurrying off, reel in hand, back into the chaos of production.

I lingered by the doorway, unsure why I hadn’t already walked away. Maybe I wanted to watch the reel. Maybe I wanted to see them act. Maybe I was waiting for her.

Instead, I got Ellen.

The familiar click-clack of her heels clicked down the corridor like punctuation marks on a confrontation I didn’t want to have. She didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Okay,” she said, hands on hips, tone flat with conviction. “Something’s happened between you and Y/N again.”

I sighed and stared at her.

“Something’s always happening between us, Ellen.” The words felt tired in my mouth, like an old song I couldn’t stop humming.

She frowned, arms crossing tighter. “Maybe. But you two made up. I saw it during the Meg era. The way she looked at you. You were softer. She was... lighter. She talked about it to anyone with ears; and now? ” She gestured vaguely, a sweep of frustration. “Now she doesn’t mention your name. Not even once. Like you’ve vanished.”

I didn’t reply.

“And you,” she went on, “you get this… this bitter look every time she’s brought up.”

“I do not get bitter,” I snapped, sharper than I intended.

Ellen cocked a brow, a picture of unimpressed. “Oh yes, Avis. That was very convincing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were auditioning for a villain in your own life.”

All I could do was glare, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“It’s nothing,” I muttered finally, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Drop it, Ellen.”

She took a step closer. “Avis. Do not test me. I will lock the two of you in a room until you talk like actual adults.”

“This isn’t one of your trashy romance films, Ellen,” I scoffed, reaching for my cigarette case.

“That movie wasn’t trashy,” she shot back. “I cried at the end. And so did you, might I remind you.” Her voice softened then, the sarcasm fading into something gentler. “Seriously, Avis. Talk to her. I can’t stand to see my favourite girls so... hollow. You’re shadows of yourselves when you’re like this.”

I paused, lighter hovering at my lips, cigarette trembling ever so slightly between my fingers. The silence stretched, heavy with memories neither of us wanted to name.

“You met us when we were distant,” I said finally, the words floating out on a trail of smoke.

“Yes. And that distance came from jealousy and hurt and anger she said softly. “This isn’t that. This is something else. Something unfinished. You know I’m right.”

I took a long drag of my cigarette, let the smoke curl in my lungs, let it scald the edges of my restraint.

She was right.

Fuck her.

“I’ll think about it,” I offered, low and noncommittal. A peace offering made of ash.

Ellen beamed like I’d just signed a treaty. “Perfect. I’ll tell her you want to meet for dinner. She’s been avoiding it, but if it comes from you…”

She turned on her heel before I could stop her.

I didn’t stop her.

I didn’t call her back. I didn’t argue.

Because the truth was; I did want to see Y/N. I wanted to look her in the eye and demand to know if she was lying or if it was another act. I wanted to ask if she felt the same dull ache in her ribs when she thinks about us.

But more than that. I wanted this decades old war between us to end.