#and i really want to see how the others self-style their gear

[immoral-stranger]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 // 𝐋𝐒𝟐

Summary: “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you,” — Or, the one where two people are experiencing the worst year of their lives respectively. Falling in love shouldn't be that difficult on top of it all, right?

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Fem! Reader (team photographer, skater girl™, has tattoos and is vaguely bilingual)

Word count: 23.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: panic attacks, anxiety, self-deprecation, mention of medication, anxiety disorders and ADHD. Reader has a shitty family as well. Smut: penetrative sex, they're needy as hell, otherwise very vanilla. Fluff: she fell first, he fell harder, a bunch of silent crushing on each other, a very sappy and happy ending. Other: inaccurate timeline and race results.

A/N: I'm back! I planned this before Zandvoort and before Logan got dropped and didn't feel like changing it to fit reality, so Logan gets to finish the season in this fictional universe. He also get's to go to Indycar because I'm sad and maybe delusional. Please tell me what you think ♡

Oxfordshire, UK

The rain drizzled down as you cruised around the almost empty parking lot on your board, the drops making little sounds as they hit the brim of your rain hat. February in England wasn’t that great—no snow, just rain and cold weather. Awful, but doable for someone who had a skateboard stuck to their feet ninety percent of the year. 

You were early, which was uncommon for you. But Angie had told you to come early, and you didn’t want to screw up on what was technically your first day on the job. Having someone you saw as an older sister as your boss had its pros and cons. 

“Should you really be skating in the rain?” Angie called out, standing underneath the awning above the main entrance, shielded from the rain. Her Williams-blue raincoat was pulled up to her chin, and you could see her visibly shiver from the cold. 

You had received a similar jacket, amongst a lot of other team gear, in advance for your first day. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you guessed that wasn’t the point of having team gear in the first place. Or any kind of work uniform, really. The coat kept you warm and dry, that was all that you could ask for. 

“Can’t you see how slow I’m going?” you protested, laughing at her cautiousness. 

You knew what you were doing. It wasn’t advised by anyone to skate when it was raining outside, but casually riding in a flat, empty parking lot at a slow speed, just to not get your shoes wet, wasn’t dangerous. Not for you, at least. You had been skating for close to two decades.

Angie had asked you to take some pictures of the building, and then take pictures of all the team members as they arrived at the factory. 

You had held a camera in your hands for almost as long as your feet had stood on a skateboard. The two interests kind of coexisted and fed off each other as you grew older. Only photography was able to make you money, though. 

You’d read in an article that the Williams factory was supposed to be modest in comparison to McLaren’s or Red bull’s spaceship-like buildings, but this was still huge to you. And you hadn’t even gotten inside the building yet. 

As cars filled the parking lot, you snapped photos of the people going inside. Mechanics, engineers, people on the communications team—it seemed like everyone was present for this pre-season meetup. Maybe it was because it was the last one before the team flew off to Bahrain. 

Some smiled at you as they spotted the big DSLR camera in your hands, others walked right past. Angie seemed to know almost everyone as she greeted them by the entrance. Sure, she was some kind of high-up marketing manager, but recognising so many people seemed excessive. Or maybe just impressive. 

She’d given you a crash course in Formula 1 as she had hired you. You had heard her talk about her job on many occasions, even catching a race or two when it was on television, but you quickly realised that you didn’t know half as much as you probably needed to. 

It was hard for you to even pinpoint who were the Williams’ drivers as they both came walking across the parking lot. Angie’s immediate perked attention and widened smile told you everything you needed to know. You would need to get good photos of them both. 

You tried your best to remember who was who, and when you recalled that one raced under the Thai flag and the other for the US, it was quite easy. 

Alex was tall, and happy. He walked with quick steps to get away from the light rain, greeting Angie with an effortless hug. He had no problem smiling when he saw you with the camera, raising his eyebrows at your stance on the skateboard. 

Logan wasn’t far behind. He looked younger, and less confident in the way he carried himself. His steps were slower as he too made his way under the awning. He reminded you of kids you’d gone to school with, with their boyish charm and cluelessness. He was young, and sweet—maybe even beautiful. 

You could see it all as you lifted your camera to spot him from the viewfinder. His smile didn’t form as easily as Alex’s had done, but when it did, and he flashed you his stupidly perfect and pearly white American teeth, you couldn’t help but feel how the corners of your lips turned upward. This was going to be a difficult year if you already were developing a minor crush on the first cute boy you’d seen. 

“Who’s Paddington?” Alex asked Angie after he had greeted her. 

You could overhear him perfectly fine as you pretended to take some photos of the main building. 

“What? Oh, because the red bucket hat?” she chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s our new team photographer.” 

Logan too gave Angie a quick hug. After all, she was one of the more tolerable people forcing them to do social media content. 

He laughed at the nickname Alex gave you. Logan would’ve gone with Tony Hawk over Paddington, but maybe that was because he found the fictional little bear with a red hat and a blue coat to be a very British reference. 

“She looks about twelve,” Alex remarked, watching as you adjusted something on the lens, your movements precise and confident despite your youthful appearance.

Angie laughed again, the sound warm and contagious. “She’s the same age as Logan.” 

Logan playfully pouted at his two colleagues joking. He guessed the both of you looked young. Maybe too young to be in such a professional setting. 

“She’s my best friend’s little sister. I’m mostly being kind by offering her a chance to work with us,” Angie continued to explain, raising her voice slightly to get your attention. 

She didn’t really need to, because you had heard every single word of their conversation. 

“That’s her way of secretly telling you that I’m severely underqualified for this job and I’m using it as an excuse to travel the world,” you said under your breath, your gaze still fixated on the viewfinder as you slowly skated towards them. 

Same, was what Logan immediately wanted to say, but instead he just laughed, unsure of how well his self-deprecating humour would translate.

You stepped off your board, before popping it up with your foot on the tail end to grab it with your hand. You hadn’t expected them to laugh, because it wasn’t exactly a joke. You guessed it kind of came across as one, though.

You told Alex and Logan your name, gently reaching out your hand to shake theirs, but Angie’s hand pulling down the brim of your hat over your eyes stopped you in your tracks. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to be stuck with Paddington around here,” she laughed.  

“The Williams hat you gave me can’t stand the rain,” you argued, fixing the hat back into place. 

It was true. The cotton of the team hat she had given you would’ve been drenched at this point. But you still appreciated her effort because she thought the hat was more your style than the classic baseball cap that most of the other employees sported.

“You’re such a child, you know that, right?” 

That was something you’d heard all your life, because you somehow always turned out to be the youngest one at every family function. You didn’t take it as an insult when Angie said it, though. She had valued what you brought to the table for as long as you could remember. Maybe that was the only child within her showing through. 

“That’s kind of on you, Angie,” you pointed out. “If you hadn’t been mostly kind, I wouldn’t be here to annoy you.” 

You saw how Angie wanted to argue back, but was interrupted by the sound of your ringtone. Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. You had intention behind it when you initially picked it (something about rebellion and fuck the system), but now it was mostly a running joke that you couldn’t let go of, no matter how many times you swapped phones.

You also loved the embarrassment that flashed over Angie’s face as it interrupted her. Alex and Logan couldn’t help but laugh as you excused yourself to answer. 

Logan watched as you slowly cruised over the parking lot, phone up to your ear as you talked to whoever it was over the phone. He heard you raise your voice, speaking in a language he didn’t recognise, or at least didn’t understand.

“Her family sort of… resents her? So, I did what I thought was right.”

Angie felt the need to explain as the three of them heard you start to argue. She knew it had to be your mother calling, because you had given up on arguing with your father already.

“Is she at least a good photographer?” Alex asked with a sigh.

“She’s the best.” 

. . .

Melbourne, Australia

. . .

The season started with a whirlwind. You definitely hadn’t mentally prepared for the challenge it would be to travel nonstop, and even if you had some downtime, the anxiety of always being on the move didn’t leave your body. Before you had the chance to experience a new city, you had to be thinking of when you were going to the next one. 

And you were rusty. You didn’t yet have the right mindset to be in the position you were in, constantly forgetting things and not getting the perfect photos. You’d done sports photography for a long time, but there was a difference in speed between x-games sports and fucking Formula 1. 

That was why you found yourself back at the hotel in Melbourne, riding the lift to your floor to retrieve some equipment you’d forgotten in your room, your body teeming with nerves and embarrassment over what had just transpired. While Formula 1 was a travelling circus with a lot of important and famous people, you hadn’t expected to actually run into anyone that would leave you speechless. You were usually too good at talking. 

As you exited the lift, you spotted Logan in the hallway, looking like he was about to enter his own hotel room. Your speedy steps interrupted his actions, and even if you two hadn’t really had a one-on-one conversation before, you had to tell someone about who you just ran into. 

“I just made a fool out of myself in front of Keegan Palmer,” you exhaled loudly as your steps came to a stop in front of him. 

“Who?” Logan questioned, holding the door to his room open, a little bit taken aback by your boldness. 

“Olympic skateboarder,” you clarified. “He’s kind of a big deal, and he’s friends with Lando somehow.” 

Logan remembered something about a famous skateboarder in the back of his mind as he let out a short laugh. “So, what did you do? Ask for a selfie?”

“I wish. No, I just ran into them in the lobby and couldn’t form a sentence because I was shocked. I literally froze,” you groaned, rubbing your temples as your emotions started to settle. 

As they did, you took in Logan’s expression. While you hadn’t necessarily talked much before, you had taken a lot of photos of him. He always portrayed a certain charm, even when he was focused on racing or unaware of the camera. He didn’t do that now. Something seemed off with him from his blank stare at you. He was there, able to laugh at your awkward interaction, but he wasn’t present. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?” Logan asked after a moment of silence. 

“I forgot an SD card in my hotel room,” you explained. “Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “You haven’t heard?” 

“Heard what?” 

“I’m not driving,” he answered plainly, but the words landed heavily. “Alex is taking my car because they don’t have a spare chassis to repair the damage from his crash yesterday.” 

You blinked out of confusion as you raised your eyebrows. “Is that even allowed? It’s your car.” 

“I don’t know, but it’s probably for the better,” Logan shrugged with a certain nonchalance. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” 

“You’re paying for a mistake that he made. It is a big deal,” you argued. 

You’d practically ran up to him to talk about your embarrassing moment that you had failed to even acknowledge what kind of mood he was in. That was a bad habit of yours—badly reading people and basically running them over with your talking. 

And here he was, feeling like shit over a decision that no one thought was possible. He probably had no will to talk about some skateboarder with you.  

You noticed the way his hands trembled slightly, holding a tight grip on the door to the point where his knuckles whitened. The realisation hit you at the same time his expression shifted, his bravado cracking under the weight of something much deeper, his breath coming quicker than normal. 

“Mate, are you okay?” you asked him softly. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his wavering voice betrayed him.

Logan wasn’t angry at the team, or at Alex. He knew that it was the right decision because Alex would have a better chance to score points. He probably would’ve made the same decision if he were team principal. 

He knew he wasn’t good enough to deserve a chance.

He knew he wasn’t good enough to argue his case. 

He knew he wasn’t good enough. 

It was killing him inside. Logan wanted to flee the scene. He wished he could rewind time five minutes and just walk into his hotel room instead of stopping when he heard your steps. He wouldn’t have had to explain this to you. He wouldn’t have had to feel this way in front of another person. It had been bad enough when he got the news in a conference room filled with team members. 

This was different, though—you two alone in a hotel corridor. 

He felt like he was choking, like the feelings inside of him wanted to come out but he had no idea how to let them out. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, no matter how heavily he breathed. He’d never felt like this before. 

“You’re having a panic attack, dipshit,” you stated. 

It sounded like you were joking, but in reality you were fighting concern with humour. You could see exactly what was happening to him, all too familiar yourself with the overwhelming feeling of when anxiety finally catches up with you.  

Logan looked at you, eyes wide. “N-no, I’m not. I’ve never—” he stammered, shaking his head.

“You haven’t had one before? Oh, fuck.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind that people in their twenties could’ve gone their entire lives without experiencing an anxiety attack. You could handle them quite well after years of being a miserable child and teen, but Logan didn’t look like he knew what was even going on. The first one wouldn’t always be the worst one, but right now, this would be hard on him. 

You took a step closer, your heart suddenly racing. You didn’t know if he wanted you to touch him, so you acted hesitantly at first. But by his shocked expression and shaking hands, you knew that he needed help calming down. He looked lost, like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet and he didn’t know how to steady himself.

“God, here—” you reached out, grabbing his hand, your fingers firm but gentle. “Just hold my hand.” 

You dragged him into his room, to get privacy if someone entered the floor. He collapsed against the door as soon as it shut, sliding down it to sit on the floor. You crouched in front of him, now holding both of his hands to stop their shaking and to centre his focus. 

“Mimic my breathing, look at my chest,” you instructed, guiding him as you took deep and steady breaths, making sure that he could see the tempo in which they rose and fell. 

Logan couldn’t get any words out, but he tried his best to calm down. He was slowly able to sync his breathing with yours, the tightness in his chest and the pounding in his head easing as he got enough oxygen in his system again. The feeling inside was still foreign to him, like it wasn’t palpable at all. 

He realised he was crying when he felt a cold tear slide down his cheek. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he had cried in front of someone, but he was past the point of embarrassment. 

You didn’t seem to care about it anyway. You had a kindness in your eyes that was unexplainable to him, and he wondered how you knew how to deal with this so well. 

“See?” you whispered after a moment. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing with me.”

Logan closed his eyes for a second, feeling his wet eyelashes hit his cheeks. Your voice grounded him and he couldn’t think of anything else in the moment. He couldn’t think of racing. He couldn’t think of Alex. 

He thought of your unwavering grip on both his hands, sending a calm feeling through his body. He thought of the sound of your steady breathing, making it easy for him to follow. 

He slowly opened his eyes to look down at your intertwined fingers, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. Logan had seen that you had tattoos before, but now was the first time he was close enough to distinguish them.

Like patchwork, they lined both of your arms, getting cut off by the hem of your Williams t-shirt right before your shoulder. They looked like doodles. There was a disco ball, and flowers, and a stamp from your home country. As his eyes trailed further, he could see a few on your legs as well, revealed because you were wearing shorts. You had a tattooed band-aid on your knee and a ghost on skateboard on your lower thigh. He assumed they had a connection. 

“I like your tattoos,” Logan heard himself say, voice thick from the tears.

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The tenseness of your body softened, relieved that he seemed to be coming back to himself. “You do? You don’t seem like the type.” 

Logan shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Oh, I’m not—but I like them on you.”

He grabbed your hand again afterwards, unsure of why but relieved that you just continued rubbing absentminded circles. You flexed your arm slightly, turning it so that Logan could get a better look of the inked designs. 

“What are the paw prints for?” he asked, genuinely curious now that his mind had space for other thoughts. You had four little black paw prints on the inside of your arm. 

“My parents dog,” you said, warmth filling your voice. “A golden retriever named Tater Tot.”

He chuckled, a sound that felt foreign after the weight of his emotions. “They have tater tots outside of America?”

“Barely,” you replied. “Which is a shame because I love them. We went to Florida on vacation when I was a kid, and I think I ate about a thousand tater tots from the hotel buffet.”

“Florida?” Logan dared to look at your face fully now, intrigued. “I’m from Florida.

“I know, Logan.” 

You laughed gently. His Americanness didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in a place like this, where most of the team members were European. It was also one of the few things that had stuck with you from Angie’s rambling about her job—that she had to work with an actual Florida man, like they were mythological creatures. 

“We went to Orlando. Disney World and all that, y’know?”  

“Yeah, the classic American pilgrimage,” he smiled, then hesitated. “Have you been back? To America, I mean.”

You shrugged, your expression shifting to something more neutral, as if you were weighing the pros and cons in your mind. “No, it’s not really… something I want to do? With war criminals as presidents, and guns at grocery stores—oh, and no butter on your sandwiches?” You shook your head dramatically. “That’s my personal hell.”

Logan laughed again, feeling a slight stinging pain in his chest that he decided to disregard. If he kept on breathing deeper, he knew that it would go away on its own. 

You watched as he winced, even if he tried to hide it from you. You took a moment to breathe with him again before continuing. “I have a friend who moved to San Francisco, though. She lives with this skateboarding collective and uh, it seems really nice.”

That was maybe the only reason you would go to the US, for more than the American grands prix of course. It was an old university friend who skated competitively. Even if you weren’t on the same level, you still felt like a month or two on the west coast could do your head and mental health a favour. 

“That might be a bucket list thing for me,” you explained, at which Logan smiled. 

You observed his face, glossy blue eyes from tears and messy blond hair from the chaos he had just experienced. A certain hopelessness lingering in the air that you tried to not think about too much. It was still too early to tell how the season would end. 

“I feel a lot calmer now, uh… so thank you for all that,” he said, showing gratitude. He didn’t know how you’d known exactly what to say, but you had pulled him back from the edge, and that mattered more than anything.

“Yeah, distraction tends to work quite well,” you replied, giving him a knowing look. “You should maybe talk to someone if this becomes a reoccurring thing.” 

His smile faded, but he nodded. Logan didn’t know now what this could lead to, but maybe he needed to prepare himself for feeling like this. He kind of wanted to talk to you about it, making a mental reminder to ask if panic attacks were common for you. 

“We should probably get back to the paddock,” he murmured as realisation hit him. 

He would have to face a lot of questions, and he was destined to put on a brave face, showing that this wasn’t something that had bothered him. 

“Only if you feel like it. I don’t care if we get in trouble,” you said, reassuring him. 

He shook his head, dropping the hold he had of your hands as he stood up and smoothed out his shorts. 

“I’ll be alright, I think.” 

. . .

Miami, USA

. . .

It became a thing for you to calm Logan down. 

You'd said it yourself: It was too early to tell how the season would play out. But race after race, you grew more certain—this Williams car might just be the worst on the grid. And while you knew close to nothing about the engineering and mechanical side of things, you realised that neither did most of the audience. That was why people started to blame the drivers instead. 

It didn’t really get to you—until Miami. That was when you felt anger over racing for the first time in your life, but absolutely not the last. 

The Miami sun had been relentless, casting a hot haze over the track and the bustling energy of the crowd. The faint smell of burnt rubber lingered in the air as you clutched your camera, squinting through the lens, trying to spot the cars as they zoomed by in a blur of colour and speed. The piercing sound of engines roaring filled your ears, but it was a sudden crash that made your heart drop.

You hadn’t been too far away from the exact barrier when the crash happened. And when you realised that it was Logan, getting pushed off the track by Magnussen for a measly 18th position, you felt rage inside. He didn’t even get to finish his home race because of someone else’s carelessness. 

By the time you made your way to the garage, the race had ended. The sound of people cheering for Lando’s first win was still deafening. Logan was checked by the medics but had been released soon after. When you found him, he was sitting in his driver’s room, still in his racing suit with his helmet beside him, his face flushed red and tense. His eyes met yours through the open door and you hesitated going to talk to him at first, but with a slight nod, he showed that it was okay. 

“Sooo… Magnussen is a cunt,” you blurted out, leaning in the doorway, the words escaping before you had a chance to filter them.

Logan couldn’t help but huff out a laugh in frustration. It was an empty laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach up to sparkle his eyes with any genuine effect of your humorous words. Instead, the only thing adding light to his eyes were the tears threatening to fall. You’d seen it before. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you realised what you had said. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know him, that was really harsh.” 

“Well, I’m glad you said it because I’m not allowed to,” he muttered in response, looking down at his hands, pulling at loose skin from his cuticles. 

He sighed loudly, leaning to rest his head on the wall behind him. You moved his helmet to sit beside him, knowing now that you weren’t pushing any boundaries. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves friends—you didn’t really know anything about each other—but having travelled and worked so closely together for two months now, you were starting to learn how his post-race emotions functioned. 

“I think I might be the living embodiment of it could be worse,” Logan stated.  

“Yeah, you could be in that series where they race electric scooters,” you joked. 

The corners of his mouth turned upward for a split second, then he thought about how the people racing scooters probably were having more fun than him this season. 

A silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched him for a moment, noticing the tension still visible in the tight set of his jaw. The weight of the season was bearing down on him—the constant pressure, the unfair expectations.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, eyes downcast.

“I want to,” you replied without hesitation. 

He looked up at you, fully taking in your appearance. Miami made everyone hot and bothered, and not in the good way. A sheen of sweat coated your forehead, and your skin had gotten more golden from being under the sun. Just as he spotted a fresh scratch on your elbow that he assumed was from skating, he also acknowledged the shirt you were wearing. 

It wasn’t the William’s kit. It had his face on it, with the American flag and a bald eagle behind him. Perfectly oversized in your street-style-skater way. The text on it said wtf is a kilometer.

He snorted out loud, getting your attention. “I like your shirt.” 

“It’s cool, right?” you replied, tugging at the hem. “A little girl from the fan zone gave me this friendship bracelet too.” 

You reached out your wrist for him to see, baby blue beads rattling together. He carefully moved his fingers to twist it, showing him how white alphabet beads spelled out his surname, right there on your wrist. You were fully decked out to support him today… and he hadn’t even managed to finish the race. 

As his hands moved, you saw how they were practically shaking, something his nerves caused him to do. It was an uncontrollable response to the adrenaline and pent-up frustration. 

“You’re not alright, are you?” you asked gently.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stared ahead, eyes glassy. Then, after a moment, he let out a shaky breath. “Can you say something to distract me? Tell me something about you that I don’t know.” 

You realised why he asked that. Like with the tattoos in Melbourne, distraction had worked on his anxiety before. You didn’t know if he had experienced more panic attacks or if he had tried to talk to someone about what had happened, but if you could help even a little bit by just yapping, you would do it whenever he asked. 

You thought for a second, thinking of something light-hearted to tell him. An idea popped into your head as you pulled out your phone from your pocket. “Oh, I started this instagram diary thing to get some use out of all the photos and videos I take. That should tell you everything about me.” 

The screen showed a grid of colourful photos, and Logan immediately scooted closer to get a better look. They were themed and edited to match together with long captions to actually mimic a diary. Your account was relatively small, mostly followed by old friends and members of the Williams team. 

You didn’t really have anything to hide, so you handed him the phone to let him scroll freely. There were weekly posts, one from every country you had visited thus far and also ones from when you were back in England. He’d learnt by now that you weren’t English, but lived with Angie and her fiancé Matthew during this season, only because employees needed to be based in the UK. 

“You really get out there and explore every time we’re in a new city?” he asked, slightly amazed after stopping at the post from Australia. It was a photo dump with everything from the beach, to a skatepark, to you enjoying the nightlife. 

“Yeah, but my schedule is not as busy as yours,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile. “You should join sometime, maybe not to a skatepark, but for dinner or karaoke.” 

“You got to do karaoke in Japan?” Logan wondered, scrolling back up to see the post you had made from there. 

Cherry blossoms, sushi, a skate shop with custom decks. Logan had seen that you had gotten a new board with The Great Wave off Kanawaga on it to match your blue Williams clothes, but he didn’t know from where. The last picture of the post was from a bar lit in neon lights, something written with Japanese characters. He assumed that was where the karaoke had taken place. 

“Yeah,” you grinned, thinking back to the night. “Angie does a mean Michael Jackson impression.” 

Logan had a hard time envisioning Angie singing in front of people. She was in her early thirties, and while she was lovely, she was also kind of stiff. Maybe it helped being on the other side of the world. 

He shook his head, an amused scoff escaping him, but then his eyes drifted to an older post, further down your feed. It was multiple posts actually, all aligning together in an explosion of colours. It was collages of pictures, that, when zoomed out, depicted a picture in and of itself. They were all of a girl with bright pink hair. 

“What’s all that?” he asked, tilting the phone for you to see better. 

“It’s a project I did for university, like a mixed media thing where we had to turn photos into an art piece of a different kind,” you explained. 

You said it simply, but Logan was beyond impressed at how much time and precision it must’ve taken. First to take and develop what seemed like a million photographs of the same person, and then to make a collage out of them, basically using the pictures as building blocks to make a much larger version of said person. 

“Did you go to art school?” 

“Oh no,” you laughed softly. “I did political science with a minor in photography. My entire family is made up of lawyers, so that was always my plan A.”  

He looked at you curiously. “So why aren’t you in law school now?” 

“Because I got rejected by every single one I applied to,” you dead-panned, tinged with a kind of self-deprecating humor. “I’m not that smart, Logan. Angie practically saved my life by letting me join her.” 

There was a brief pause, a moment of vulnerability hanging in the air. 

It was ridiculous really, how it all had happened—how you had been shaped your entire life for one future and then achieving nothing of it. 

You were the youngest of three siblings. Your brother was fifteen and your sister was ten when you were born. It was obvious to everyone except your parents that you were an accidental pregnancy. 

Being that much younger, you always felt behind because you were never on the same intellectual level as the rest of your family. Then, when you finally caught up in age and was supposed to be seen as an adult, you still couldn’t succeed in the things your siblings had succeeded in. You never got into a nice university, and while you just narrowly managed to graduate, it would have never been enough to get into law school no matter how hard you tried. 

School was never your thing. You found joy in art and sports, but you never had the concentration to sit down with your nose in a book to learn things. It took your parents a long time to realise this, because your siblings had never had any problems. Your brother was the youngest chairman ever at your father’s law firm, and your sister worked for the World Court in The Hague. 

You never stood a chance, but no one saw that. 

Angie was your sister’s childhood friend, and when she found out about your failed attempt at law school, she was the one to arrange this job for you. She knew that it was never your dream to do as the rest of your family. Your parents still didn’t see that. 

Everyone said that all they wanted for their children was for them to be happy and healthy, but that wasn’t really what they wanted. They wanted them to be like themselves, or even better—they wanted them to be better than themselves. And when the first two children actually managed to be better, who wouldn’t be a little disappointed in the third one? 

Logan’s voice brought you out of your spiralling thoughts. You watched as his eyes softened, and he said with pure honesty, “I think what you’re doing now is way cooler.” 

“Yeah, but my parents, and grandparents, and siblings do not,” you shrugged, the compliment washing over you but not quite sinking in.

“What would you have been doing if their opinion didn’t matter to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly louder. 

You contemplated for a moment, startled by his question and change of mood. 

“I would have skated a lot more, maybe even competitively. Or started with sports photography earlier. Not done political science, that’s for sure,” you said. “What about you?” 

“I think I’m already supposed to be living my dream,” he answered, but his voice lacked conviction. “I shouldn’t feel this… sad, I should be enjoying what I have right now because Sainz is taking my seat next year.” 

“Carlos? Jesus, that’s the downgrade of the century,” you blurted out without thinking, and Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise in his eyes.  

“What? Do we think the Williams car will magically compete with Ferrari next season?” you chuckled. “No, it will be hilarious to hear him complain over the radio.” 

You hadn’t given him the time to answer, but he would’ve said something similar to what you did. He was reluctant to laugh, but he knew it was true. 

As he let the laugh out, he was immediately stuck by how freely he did it. He’d felt the same kind of weight over his chest like he had in Melbourne earlier. With the medics, and with the engineers, and with James. He didn’t feel that now, he could laugh without thinking of it. Without thinking of how his future was still very much undecided. You’d done it again—distracted him out of total anxious paralysis. 

“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” you asked. 

“I’ve got absolutely nothing figured out,” he admitted.

“Then I think we should use Lando’s win as an excuse to get absolutely wasted.” 

. . .

Montréal, Canada

. . .

Canada was cold, like actually freezing. And it wouldn’t stop raining. You tried to do your job the best you could, but when your shoes were soaked through and raindrops had started to trickle down the inside of your coat, getting good photos was impossible. So, you had to give up with capturing the track and the crowd and opted on finding something content-worthy in the garage instead. 

Logan found you on the floor of the garage, sat on your skateboard, using it to slide across to capture the car in some sort of panoramic view he assumed. He didn’t say much, leaving you to work in peace as he went on to focus on his own things. He could spot you in his periphery every now and then. You still wore your red bucket hat because of the rain, and your worn-out Nikes squeaked against the slick flooring. 

He heard Alex enter his side of the garage with a ringing laughter, patting his shoulder as a way of greeting him. 

“Might I ask why Paddy is on the floor?” he asked, voice laced with amusement at the girl in front of them, basically folded in half to get the perfect photograph. 

You looked up at Alex from your position, the camera still held up like a shield between you. The flash went off as you sneakily took a picture of the two drivers. “Angles, baby. Angles,” you grinned. 

Alex tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “What angle is that exactly? My double chin?” 

“Don’t worry, you look great,” you reassured, standing up again. 

Logan could see how your eyes searched for something, and when he spotted your lens cap laying on a nearby table, he reached out to give it to you. You nodded slightly as a silent thank you, surprised at how observant he’d been.

He would’ve never admitted it at the time, but how easy the word baby left your lips definitely lingered on his mind. It didn’t exactly help that it was Alex you’d said it too, even if it was in a jokingly manner. 

You continued working, changing cameras from digital to film, capturing the team as they prepared for the race to start. You only stopped to go outside to photograph when a hailstorm hit the paddock. 

Logan saw you enter the hospitality, drenched from head to toe, your blue coat having turned navy from the rain. Your eyes watched the hail in miraculous awe. He spotted you shivering from the weather, your hands having a hard time holding the camera as the cold gnawed at your fingers. 

You felt him before you saw him, his quiet energy sneaking up on you, standing behind you as hail and raindrops hit the glass panes of the Williams hospitality building. 

“Here,” he said, holding out a steaming mug.

You blinked, momentarily confused by the gesture. “I don’t drink coffee,” you reminded him. “Everyone says I’m hyper enough without caffeine.” 

Logan’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I know that,” he replied. “It’s mine, but you can use the mug to warm your hands.” 

“Oh…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the mug, the warmth radiating from the ceramic a stark contrast to the cold that had settled in your bones. Your fingers touched his as you grabbed it, almost feeling igniting a hotter fire than the boiling hot coffee warming you. “Thank you.”

Logan watched you in that silent way of his, the hailstorm outside temporarily forgotten as the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you.

You glanced up at him, your heart doing a ridiculous fluttering thing it had started doing whenever he was close. His gaze was steady, searching yours with a familiar, unspoken understanding that had developed over months of working together. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound surprising even you, thinking back on how he had handed you your lens cap earlier. And now this, too. 

“Why do you always seem to know what I need before I do?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, voice low enough for you to just about hear him. 

It took you a while to understand what he meant. Then it hit you, that your comfort—your distraction—was what he needed. And you did it without him asking. Ever since tears had fallen from his blue eyes on that hotel room floor somewhere in Melbourne. 

. . .

Later, the race began and came to an end. 

The rain had stopped and the streets had dried up, leaving an eerily quiet race tack left under glimmering city lights. As you skated the paddock, weaving through the lingering crowd, the adrenaline of the race still pulsed through you, but it was dulled by the quiet aftermath.

You hadn’t really had any time to talk with anyone, being out by the track all race. While the race was disappointing, the cars had at least been a pleasure to photograph as they sprayed water around them. 

You spotted a group of team members ahead, their heads low, conversations muted. Among them, Logan’s familiar figure stood out. You pushed off your skateboard with a quiet flick, coasting toward him. His ears perked up at the sound of the wheels against the concrete. As you got closer, you set your foot down, slowing to match his pace.

“Soo… uhm,” you started, voice unsure.  

“Yeah, we don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, his gaze locked on the asphalt in front of him as he continued to walk slowly, you riding beside him. 

You both knew what it meant. A double DNF, a race weekend that spiralled out of control, and hours of work undone in seconds.

“We can, if you want to,” you offered. 

You glanced at him then, really looking at him for the first time since before the race. He looked tired, but more than that—defeated. And yet, he was trying to be strong. You offered him a chance to vent, even though you both knew it wouldn’t necessarily help. Not when you couldn’t pinpoint a defining factor as to why the weekend had gone to shit. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Alex’s fault. It was just a mess to race in this much rain. 

Logan let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure anyone on the team would want to talk about today,” he admitted. 

You could only nod, completely understanding that it was probably best to be quiet about the race. You were better off distracting him, like you usually did. 

“You wanna have dinner? A little pick-me-up? Maybe Alex and Lily will want to join.” 

Logan huffed a dry laugh. “They’re having what Alex calls DNF therapy.” 

“Do I wanna know what that means?” you questioned, acting intrigued. 

You didn’t need to ask. You understood what it meant. But you asked anyway, to see if Logan would explain it to you. 

“No, you don’t,” he replied short, shaking his head. 

“How about room service and a shitty movie instead?” you suggested. 

“You’re starting to know me so well,” he said. He then paused, the realisation settling in as he glanced sideways at you. “I guess you’re my DNF therapy, huh.”

You tried to stop yourself from making the conversation take a turn. You really did. But the joke was there, right in front of your eyes, looking so damn tempting. 

“I’m not having sex with you, Sargeant,” you said sternly. 

Logan blinked, his eyes wide for a second before he burst out laughing. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. Loud and clear.”

For a brief moment, a tension so thick formed between you that you could almost feel it taking up space in the cold, still slightly rainy air. It was quickly replaced by the laughter—the easy banter you usually had with Logan. 

But the thought lingered in your mind longer than it should have. In reality, you probably would’ve done it. If he asked you, that is. Sex with Logan, huh. The heat that rose to your cheeks was almost painful. Your infatuation had been visible, right there on your face, if only Logan had been confident enough to see it. 

You had to push these thoughts away. You didn’t need things to be complicated between the two of you. Even if this stupid crush you had on him was starting to become harder to ignore.  

Instead, you nudged his arm playfully before pushing with your foot to skate in front of him, glancing back over your shoulder with a grin. “Come on. Let’s go order some overpriced food and find the worst movie possible.”

. . .

Baku, Azerbaijan

. . .

Azerbaijan was hot, like actually blazing. You could feel sweat running down your face and back every time you were out of the air-conditioned garage to photograph. By the time race day came around, you already had blisters on the inside of your thighs from chafing, and your skin was warm to the touch from being burnt.  

The moment you had now, on the Sunday morning, to sit inside and edit some photos was therefore sacred. It was the first calm and, more importantly, cool moment you’d had in days. The torment the heat had on your body had still left its mark. You couldn’t get comfortable. You couldn’t get your heart to stop racing. You wouldn’t have called it anxiety, but since this morning, you were now sure that heat exhaustion wasn’t the only thing you were feeling. 

Your mind was enough of a twisty place. Now, when it wouldn’t shut the fuck up, it was like a constant stream of emotions just overwhelming you. 

At least, the photos you had taken during practice and qualifying turned out sick. You’d tried out a new long exposure technique that really captured the speed even in static form. And you had definitely gotten better at candid portrait photography, which was a huge part of your job. Editing was usually the simplest part for you, but when the photos were so close that you could count the subject’s individual eyelashes, it was easy to get flustered. 

You finished the editing and decided on asking both Alex and Logan for their favourites before sending the content to the media team. It wasn’t something that was required from you, but you also knew that having your photo taken could be difficult. 

With your laptop in your hand, you walked to their driver rooms, rounding the corner to be met with a wide open door into Logan’s. 

“Logan, I—” you started, your breath catching in your throat at the sight in front of you. 

There he was, in workout shorts but no shirt, lounging in his room before changing into his race gear. He didn’t even have time to look up from his phone before you were rambling out an apology, ready to run out of the room—hell, maybe even the garage. 

“Oh fuck, shit, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, feeling your pulse quicken. You hoped he didn’t notice how your mouth hung open or the way your eyes darted everywhere but his torso. 

“What’s up?” he said, straightening his back and running a hand through his hair.

His casual confidence made everything about your reaction feel even worse. He didn’t mind you seeing him shirtless, so why the fuck did you have to care so much? 

“I just…” you stammered, losing all sense of vocabulary as your eyes deceived you, glancing at his chest. “Forgot how to English.” 

Logan let out a gentle laugh, and you mentally told yourself to get your shit together. 

“I have some photos for you to look at,” you said, holding up your laptop that had been your reason to barge into his room in the first place.

“Right, right,” Logan nodded. “Let me put a shirt on first.”

Your mouth moved before your brain could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. 

“No, I get it. I’d be shirtless too if it was socially acceptable.” 

He froze mid-step, his head slowly turning back to you with a raised brow.

You’d said no. In milliseconds. Like you were opposed to him putting a shirt on. Like that was a totally normal thing. Then, you just had to mention yourself being shirtless. So, you were forced to wonder if he was thinking about you without a shirt on as much as you were thinking about him without one. 

Well… you didn’t necessarily have to think. He was already standing in front of you shirtless. That was a known fact.

The moment you thought he might actually flirt back with you, it was like you could see how the tension washed away from his face. 

“It’s hot, right?” he asked, moving some things out of the way so that you could place your laptop on the table in his room. A part of you thought he wasn’t actually talking about the temperature. 

“Way too fucking hot,” you mumbled as your fingers shakily hovered over the mousepad. Your heart was racing and your body was overheating. You didn’t dare look up from the screen, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—or worse, what he might see in yours.

He overviewed the photos, pointing out some of his favourites. You’d gathered quite quickly that Logan had an amateur interest in photography. He didn’t shy away from complimenting your work or from asking questions about certain shots he found special. That didn’t make the rushing heat flowing to your face any better. 

“You alright?” you heard him ask as you closed the laptop shut, your photo viewing session done for now. You couldn’t really focus, a ringing sound hitting your ears. 

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, just a lot to do. I’ll see you after the race.” 

With that, you dashed out of his room, on your way to find Alex instead. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself, but that didn’t exactly matter. Either way, you were in too deep, and you knew it.

. . .

The Williams car was decent in Baku—fast on the straights, as expected. Alex got points and Logan wasn’t far from archiving it too. Still, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the most depressing result—he would manage this weekend without once collapsing like an anxious mess. That was a win in his book nowadays. 

Logan walked with Alex from the media pen, adrenaline in his steps, talking freely about whatever came to mind. 

“Did she show you the photos she took during practice yesterday? She used some kind of long exposure. I don’t know what it’s called or how she did it but it looked so cool—” 

“Logan,” Alex stopped him. 

“What?” 

“Take a breath, you’ve been talking about Paddy for like five whole minutes,” Alex teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get that you like her photography, but this is borderline obsessive.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Logan defended. “You were the one who brought her up in the first place anyway.” 

“Mate, all I did was ask if you’d seen her. She didn’t take any photos as we exited the cars,” Alex explained. 

Logan shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since before the race.” 

“Me neither, that’s why I asked.” 

Realisation dawned upon Logan that something wasn’t alright. You’d seemed sort of unbalanced earlier in the day, but he assumed that was the heat and a massive workload. It wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before, and you seemed to quietly get through every hurdle in your way anyway. He would be blind if he didn’t see your embarrassment to barging in on him shirtless, but he had explained that reaction away too in his head. He mostly found you cute, but that didn’t have to mean anything. 

He couldn’t find an explanation for this, though. Even after shit races, he looked forward to seeing you with your camera held high every time he exited the car, got weighed, or was walking to the media pen. But you hadn’t been there today… 

His emotional support photographer hadn’t been there. Sure, today’s race wasn’t that bad, and he didn’t necessarily need you as a distraction for his anxiety. But you didn’t know that. That had to mean that something had happened to you. 

“Angie, where’s Paddy?” Alex asked as they entered back into the Williams garage, practically running into the obviously stressed-out marketing manager. 

“Uhh…” Angie hesitated, not lifting her eyes from her phone. “Still with the medical team, I think. She passed out during the race. Heatstroke, most likely.” 

Logan froze. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, but for some reason he did. He cared about you, and he cared so much that he was about to act irrationally. 

“She passed out? How are you so calm?” he questioned. 

Angie shrugged, far too nonchalantly for his liking. “It’s a million degrees outside, heatstrokes are bound to happen—”

Logan didn’t wait for another word. He was already moving, cutting through the garage with purpose.

Alex shouted after him, “Logan, where are you going? We have debrief soon!” 

“Tell them I’m not coming!” was all that he yelled as a reply. 

. . .

The air in the small, sterile room seemed to hum with the tension that had followed you since you woke up.

“Miss, how are you feeling?” 

You blinked, still trying to find your bearings. It took you a second to even see the medic that was talking to you. The heat clouded your vision like a mirage. Your mouth was dry, your skin sticky from sweat, but at least you were conscious. They’d placed you in a secluded room in the makeshift medical area, lying on a stiff and temporary cot. 

“It’s a lot better now,” you replied hoarsely, managing a weak smile. “Still have a slight headache, but I guess that’s normal.” 

You didn’t know if it was the bright fluorescent lighting or the heat still affecting you, but your eyes burned and your head pounded. You felt the instinct to rub your temples, but was hindered when you felt an IV-needle inserted in your arm. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been out. You weren’t  even sure what had happened really. One second you were in the garage, trying to get a perfect shot of Alex making his pit stop. The next one, you have a vague memory of being moved into the medical area and multiple people’s voices buzzing above you. 

“Yes, it is. Do you know what happened?” the medic asked. His voice was kind as he stood by your bedside, an iPad in hand with information. 

“Uh, I… passed out? Did I hit my head?”

“No, no, you didn’t. You should be lucky that garage was filled with people to catch a falling lady,” he joked lightly. 

You smiled, albeit a bit forced. You looked at the medic’s name tag, trying to make out the letters with your clouded vision. Amir. That was a pretty name. At least your brain was working somewhat.

“We just want to observe you for a little longer to make sure you’re no longer dehydrated, otherwise you should be completely fine. Are you on any medication now?” Amir continued by saying. 

You thought for a second. “Yeah, wait… I can never remember the names.” 

Looking around you, you were thankful to see your camera bag with your phone inside placed neatly on a table next to the cot. You moved carefully to reach it, opening your notes app to show Amir the prescriptions you had written down. 

“I take those daily for ADHD, and uh… those for anxiety when I feel like I need it,” you explained, pointing at the screen even though it hurt your head to look at it. 

Amir nodded and tapped something down on his iPad. “Did you take one today?” 

“Yeah, one of each.” 

“Good to know. I’ll go get you something for that headache,” he reassured you before leaving, letting his hand gently squeeze your arm as an act of thoughtfulness. 

You closed your tired eyes for a moment, a feverish cold sweat catching up to you, making you realise just how uncomfortable your Williams kit was, practically glueing your warm body to the cot. 

The door clicked shut softly behind the medic as he left, but it wasn’t long before you heard it creak open again. You looked up, expecting Amir, but instead, it was… Logan.

You blinked, a little confused. His blond hair was slightly damp, still sporting what was obviously helmet-hair. He looked tired, maybe as exhausted as you felt, yet he stood there, hesitant for only a moment before stepping inside. 

He shouldn't be here. He should be debriefing with the team, or doing interviews, or—

“What the hell did you do?” Logan asked, only half-teasing as real concern bled through in his voice. 

“Apparently I passed out,” you answered, trying to downplay it with a weak smile.

Logan sighed, the tension visibly draining from his body as if seeing you alright, even in this condition, was enough to ease the worry that had been weighing on him. You were sure you looked like a complete mess—sweaty, shivering, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He moved inside the room, sitting down on a stool next to your cot. You turned to look at him, feeling his intense eyes on you already. You didn’t know what to do, or what to feel. Your system was already cooked, fried up completely from feeling bad all day to passing out in front of a crowded garage.  

“So, uhm… you’re just as anxious as I am?” he asked nervously, tilting his head. 

Your stomach twisted. It didn’t take you long to realise that he had overheard your conversation with Amir—about the medication, about your diagnoses. It wasn’t a secret in  any way, you just hadn’t planned to tell him about it unless he asked. Your magical cure to dealing with his anxiety was… two decades of dealing with your own. 

“Not that it’s a competition, but I’m way worse,” you joked. 

Not fitting in at school, not fitting in at home—it would make anyone anxious out of their skin. And younger you were surrounded by people who didn’t know how to deal with it—to deal with you. Your family labelled you as a sad child, or god forbid sensitive, and sort of just accepted your anxious responses to every minor thing. Doctors and therapists called you emotionally intelligent, but you never found that to be a compliment, like it was a positive thing to be so aware of your own problems. 

Logan stared at you plainly. “Do the meds help?” 

You scoffed. “Yeah, they do. Just not against heat exhaustion.” 

You saw how Logan’s expression stayed the same, slightly emotionless, slightly annoyed at how you just couldn’t help yourself from joking about the situation. You’d experienced it before—how people disliked you for it. 

“You don’t have to be here, Logan. I’m fine,” you added, shying away from looking at him. 

That broke his demeanor. He was quick to grab your hand, careful with the IV-port connected to your inner elbow. His grip was firm but tender, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I want to be here,” he shortly replied. There was no room for debate. 

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he didn’t need to babysit you, that he had more important things to do. But the truth was… you weren’t fine. Not really.

You were used to keeping to yourself, even in busy places like the paddock. You were used to the chaos and noise of your family, where attention was either forced or withheld, never calmly showed. Silence was your refuge. You were talkative, sure, but you had learnt early on that asking for help meant admitting weakness—something that wasn’t welcome in the household you grew up in. As a kid, you would shut down when you felt this overwhelmed. Even now, sat in a medical room after collapsing for heat exhaustion, that old instinct was there, tugging at you to shut down. 

Logan, however, was still there, unfazed, waiting.  

Maybe he wanted to tell you how it was slightly reckless to feel this bad and not inform anyone, but he also understood more than anybody—that admitting a weakness while doing a job people questioned your talent for—wasn’t something easily done, or something that would even help your cause in the end. 

But he didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, breathing steadily. His fingertips traced upward to one of the floral tattoos you had on your forearm. His touch felt… gentle. Intimate, even, your clouded mind envisioned. It sent a shiver through you—not from the feverish cold sweat, but from something else entirely.

“How did the race go?” you asked, swallowing down emotions, more to change the subject than anything.

“Not important.” Logan shook his head. “What? I mean it. I’m focused on you now.” 

You tried to roll your eyes, but the effort was too much. You could feel yourself unravelling, the exhaustion too heavy to ignore anymore. He noticed it too.

“My father called me this morning,” you blurted out after a moment of silence, surprising even yourself. “I think that’s why I was feeling so off today.” 

Logan, again, didn’t say anything, just waited, his gaze steady, patient. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to say more. He was just… there. He’d learnt from you, you slowly realised—to let anxious people talk when they wanted to talk and to distract them when talking would only make things worse. 

“We haven’t talked in months,” you admitted, biting your lip. “So, I thought… I thought he was finally going to be the bigger person and actually show some interest in my life and the job I’m doing.” 

Logan nodded slowly, sensing the conclusion before you even voiced it. “I’m guessing he didn’t?” 

“He called to offer me a job at his firm because one of their legal assistants is going on maternity leave.” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “I’ve been working and travelling the world for half a year, making a name for myself, and he still doesn’t believe that I can do it.” 

It was funny, how the first man to ever break your heart was your own father. And he hadn’t done it with malicious intent, but because he was just too blind to get to know his own daughter.

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop them, the tears spilled over, silent but insistent. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, embarrassed by the vulnerability, the rawness. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“Don’t apologise. You’ve seen me cry enough times to know that it’s okay.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just a fraction, a quiet reassurance. You didn’t have to suck up the tears and build up a façade to prove that you were unbothered.

“He doesn’t need to believe in you for you to succeed,” Logan said quietly, his words like an anchor to your focus. “You can do it, actually, you are doing it.” 

And the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

. . .

Austin, USA

. . .

Austin was… disappointing. 

That was the word of this season. Disappointing. Because no matter how hard it looked like Alex and Logan were pushing themselves and the cars—they got nothing out of it. Now, Logan knew for certain that he wasn’t coming back to Formula One next season. As much as Logan had wanted to go out on a high note, to leave with his head held high, reality didn’t allow it.

The only moments that really brought him any sort of joy nowadays were the ones off track. Especially the ones with you. He didn’t like to overthink it because it was complicated, and God knows he wasn’t in the right state of mind for anything complicated. But calling it platonic? That would be a lie. It wasn’t necessarily love either, just a deep understanding of each other. 

Like now, on the Sunday evening after the disappointing race, when you and him spent time in his hotel room, watching a movie that was so bad and eating room service food that was so tasteless. You were there, for him, as a distraction, as a constant. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the plot, made sarcastic comments about the actors, and occasionally hummed along to the cheesy soundtrack. You showed him attention and affection when he quite literally felt like the worst person in the world. 

“I should probably go to my own room,” you said, trying to hide a yawn as you spoke. The food finished a long time ago and the end credits rolling on the TV-screen at the end of the bed.  

Logan looked at you over his shoulder from his position on the bed, the one he’d been sinking into from exhaustion since you’d both entered his room. He was laid on his side, back turned to you. You were sat against the plush headboard, your hair looked a mess as you leant your head. He’d been quiet for a long time, barely even laughed during the movie’s funnier parts. But now, he slowly shook his head as he looked at you. 

He didn’t want you to leave. 

You silently agreed to stay for a little longer by just a look from your eyes. He turned his back to you again and you reached for the remote to turn off the TV. A static and quiet sound of air-conditioning the only thing audible in the hotel room. You shuffled behind him carefully, letting yourself lie down with your front facing his back. You didn’t dare to move under the covers like he had, only his blond hair and shirtless shoulders peeking out. 

“They should’ve just sacked me off before the summer break,” he finally muttered. You saw how a breath left his lungs, weighing him further down into the mattress. “Or after the crash at Zandvoort. Y’know? Just done something to get rid of me so that I didn’t have to feel this way.” 

He hadn’t talked like this in a while. You’d heard it a lot earlier during the season, when there were talks of him getting replaced after every race he didn’t score points. The talking never stopped, but Logan’s attitude definitely changed. He was indifferent to it, and that was scary to see—someone so young, kicked to the ground repeatedly, that his dreams lost their importance even to himself.

He’d been more careful with you since Baku. You thought maybe that had an influence on him too. He didn’t want to crowd you with emotions and anxiety when he now knew that you didn’t have it easy either. You didn’t think that was fair. You had never once felt like he added on to your anxiety. He only made it better. 

“You’re not saying much,” he added quietly, as your silence became too much for him. 

“For once in my life, I thought I’d try out what it’s like to be quiet,” you responded, but there was no bite in your voice. It was gentle, sympathetic—not joking like you used to do. “No, I’m sorry. I was letting you vent. It sounded like you needed it.” 

Logan's body slumped further as he exhaled, realising that you were right. 

“Logan, listen,” you said. “It would make no sense to sack you off. No possible replacement would be able to adjust in time for a better chance at points. Williams is doomed this season no matter what if they can’t give both cars equal machinery.” 

Your words hung in the air, not offering a solution, but trying to relieve him of some of the guilt he had piled on him. 

Without thinking, your fingers began tracing a pattern on his back, just by his exposed shoulder blade. Small, mindless circles—something to occupy the space between words. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until Logan spoke again.

“Are you doing one of those children’s rhymes?” Logan asked with a slight amusement as he recognised the pattern your finger was moving in.

“Who says they’re just for children?” you joked. 

“X marks the spot, a circle and a dot…” he started, trailing off with a soft laugh. His voice was muffled by the pillow he was lying on, but you could hear the faint hint of a smile in it. 

“Wait…I don’t know the right order in English,” you admitted, a little embarrassed as you lifted your finger from his skin. 

“Do it in your language,” he suggested in a heartbeat. 

“But you won’t understand it?”

“I just like listening to you speak,” Logan said softly, sincerely. 

“Really? I’ve been told that I sound like a muppet before by English speakers,” you questioned, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks despite yourself.

That wasn’t a lie. Muppet. Cartoon character. Or just any national stereotype people could think of. You’d heard it all. 

Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Is that why you try to not have an accent?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” you shrugged. “It was either a borderline offensive British accent or sounding like I’m one of the Kardashians.” 

He felt a short breath fall on his naked shoulder, something between a giggle and a huff. He could imagine the look on your face—smiling, trying to not be too loud for the room’s sombre atmosphere. 

You did as he asked, tracing the rhyme onto his back in the way you remembered your mother doing it to you as a child when you couldn’t sleep. His skin was tan and slightly freckled, feeling smooth under your fingertip. You whispered the words quietly in the language you knew best. 

“I love how you sound when you don’t care,” Logan said after a moment. “And in your native language.” 

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Not that he would be able to see your expression anyway. You had no idea that he’d even heard you speak in your native tongue before.

“When you’re on the phone with your family and so on,” he continued. “Your tone changes, it’s more melodic.” 

You’d always been self-conscious about your accent, always trying to blend in, to sound like everyone else. Again, it was one of those things that had always made you feel just a little bit inadequate. A little bit less than the older people around you. But here he was, appreciating the very thing you tried to hide. Loving it, even. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you let your head fall forward, your forehead resting gently against his shoulder blade. 

You stayed like that for a moment, tracing his back, savouring the quiet, intimacy of the moment without needing to explain or define it. You could’ve told him that you liked him. Your lips were only centimetres away from kissing the bare skin of his shoulder. You sensed that it was not the best time to try messing with his head and digging up your emotions to the surface, so you squashed them down all over again. 

Logan fell asleep first, but you weren’t long after. Right there, behind him. That was never your plan, but a tired mind did whatever the tired mind wanted to, you supposed. Now that it had happened, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. It didn’t end up being an issue until morning came around. 

It was early—earlier than what it needed to be—when the sun broke through the curtains and filled the room with light, evidently waking you. The daily alarm you had set on your phone wouldn’t be ringing for another hour or two. 

You had slept fine. Nothing disrupting you. Nothing waking you. You didn’t even dream. When you woke up, however, you thought you might be dreaming. 

During the night, your positions had changed. Somehow, you weren’t behind Logan anymore, with a safe distance. No, he was spooning you. An arm lazily draped over your stomach and his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck every time he exhaled. 

Nope, you definitely weren’t dreaming.

You laid as still as you possibly could, tensing your entire body, gathering that he was fast asleep. But, you had to move at some point. Your body would go into rigor mortis if you didn’t. And you were scalding hot. Falling asleep in a sweatshirt, Logan’s arm hugging your waist. It was all too much for you. 

That was when you felt it. You accidentally shifted your legs, moving further back. You felt him, poking the back of your thigh. Hard, frustrated, large. A warmness spread through your body as you realised it, making the climate even more unbearable in that bed. You knew that it was involuntary. It was just how the male body worked sometimes. You knew that this wasn’t some indication that he reciprocated the feelings you harboured for him. 

Somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part about it. You could feel his heartbeat racing, as his chest was so close to your back. That was the worst part. Like this was exciting him, or making him nervous—even in his sleep, even involuntary. 

You were going to die. This was about to kill you. And you’d let it happen. You wanted it to kill you. 

You had to get out of here, and that was now. 

You sure looked comedic, trying to get out of that bed quickly while also not waking him. Like a newborn giraffe, attempting to stand up for the first time as a heavy comforter clung to its body. 

But you did it, shutting the heavy hotel room door behind you, eyes darting around the hallway of rooms, looking to see if you’d been caught by anyone. Just as you started to walk to your own room, a voice from down the hallway stopped you. 

“Why were you in Logan’s room at the ass crack of dawn?” 

You spun to meet Angie’s gaze, and she came up to you, just having left her own room, dressed and ready for the day. You were in yesterday’s clothes and makeup, looking positively frazzled. She read your expression in a second. 

“Oh my god,” Angie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “You slept with him!” 

“No, no, I promise I did not!” you defended quickly, voice laced with panic. “Or, I mean—” you fumbled over your words as you watched Angie try to not burst into laughter. “We fell asleep next to each other, but we did not have sex.” 

“I don’t really care what you did or did not do with him, because I trust you to still be good at your job. I just—” she paused, her face softening as she looked at you, the big sister mentality coming into place even though you shared no ties of blood. “I want you to know your worth, and that race car drivers are notorious for being—” 

You cut her off, voice steadier than before. “I know my worth,” you said, before adding with a dramatic sigh, “I just happen to be on sale for a certain sad and anxious American.” 

“I get it, it happens to the best of us,” Angie nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. “You think you know what rock bottom feels like and then all of a sudden you want to fuck the blond guy.”

You could only laugh at her unusually crude words. Maybe it hit too close to home for her. 

“You’re engaged to a blond guy, Angie,” you pointed out. 

Matthew’s hair was almost white, that’s how blond he was. He most certainly had some Scandinavian in him. Logan would be considered brunet in comparison. 

“Like I said, it just happens,” she shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulder. Back to comfortable camaraderie. “Let’s go get breakfast, lover girl.” 

. . .

On the other side of the door, Logan had woken up by the sound of it slamming shut. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened. His increased heart rate. His throbbing morning wood. You, running out of his hotel room before he could wake up. What the fuck did this mean? God, he felt like dying. Or maybe just taking a really long, cold shower.

. . .

Mexico City, Mexico

. . .

“This is a waste of your time,” you called out from across the park, feeling the warm wind sweep through your hair as you carved the side of the bowl. You pushed your weight into the deck, the skateboard responding to your every shift, gliding along the concrete.

While you’d gotten to skate in some impressive parks around the world this year—this one in Mexico might take the price for being the best. It was gorgeous, in an area that you could tell flourished with graffiti and street artists. The concrete was smooth, the bowl was deep and large enough. The local skaters were talented and ranged from kids with their fathers to groups of teenagers.

“It’s not wasted time if it’s with you,” Logan said from his seat by the edge of the bowl, his eyesight focused through the little viewfinder on a vintage polaroid camera.

You’d both been asked to go to dinner with some team members after the Mexican Grand Prix, but you had answered honestly with how you’d much rather go explore this skatepark that you had heard amazing things about. Logan had answered with less honesty that he was too tired. With one look, you could tell that he silently asked to join you instead.

He was happy to just sit in the evening sun, looking out over the people skating, and stealing a camera from you to take some photos. You’d given him a polaroid camera that was only for your personal use. The film was getting expensive and your case of developed pictures was getting full, but you knew the memories would be worth it.

Logan wasn’t sure that he was very good at photography at first. He was too impatient to wait at the film developing, thinking he’d ruined most of the shots before colour even started showing on the little squares of film.

But he hadn’t ruined them. He just had to wait. And after he had waited, he was pretty damn proud of the outcome. There were gorgeous murals, a lot of the setting sun, some of kids skating around—but most of them were of you. The sun kissed your skin, and the sweat from your ride clung to you, but still, there was something about the way Logan saw you through that camera lens. Young, sweet—maybe even beautiful.

You rolled your eyes at his cliché words, pushing the tail of your board to get a bit more speed as you curved around the deep end of the bowl. Your body had memorized the movements of skating so deeply that you no longer thought about them; you just moved, instinct guiding you. It was moments like this when everything else fell away, and you were simply alive.

Logan snapped another picture, the click of the shutter audible even over the distant chatter of the park. You could tell he was smiling, even though the camera obscured half his face.

“You’re such a shutterbug!” you teased, your board coming to a stop just below him in the bowl.

“And you’re very photogenic,” he shot back without missing a beat, the sound of the shutter following swiftly after.

He could only imagine what the picture would look like without it having fully developed yet. Your high pitched laugh materialising in a wide smile with crooked teeth. You looked like a little train conductor in your striped denim boiler suit, worn-out to the point of tearing, showing off banged-up knees and elbows from never enough wearing protective gear.

After what felt like hours of skating, you finally called it a night, and the two of you began to walk back to the hotel. The buildings around you, old and worn, were painted in soft pastel shades that had faded with age. Mexico City had that effect—beautifully chaotic, with stories hidden in every crack and corner.

You were still buzzing with the adrenaline from skating, unable to stop yourself from laughing every few minutes. It was a lightness that came from doing something you loved, and being with someone who, in his own way, seemed to love it just as much.

Out of nowhere, you pointed up, a giggle bubbling over. “Look!”

Logan followed your gaze, his eyes landing on a pair of old, beat-up Converse dangling from a power line overhead.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you said, half to yourself. “Isn’t that used to mark a spot for drug dealers?” Logan asked, brow raised in amusement.

“Maybe. But it’s also used to commemorate things. Graduation, marriages, all sorts of stuff.” You gave him a playful smirk. “You know, to mark a memory.”

“You should do it, to commemorate this year.”

“Actually…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo to commemorate this year.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “Really? What of?”

“Not sure yet. Something small, meaningful. I’ll figure it out.”

Logan hummed in approval, then looked pointedly at your shoes. “You know, you could commemorate this moment by tossing those sneakers up there. God knows they’ve seen better days.”

You glanced down at your well-worn Nikes, the soles starting to peel, the laces frayed. The cobalt swooshes had practically turned a faded navy-brown shade instead. Thinking about it, your suitcase was filled with other sneakers too.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But how am I supposed to walk back to the hotel?”

Without hesitation, Logan smiled. “I’ll carry you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, you won’t.”

His response was swift. He knelt in front of you, leaning down to untie your shoes with an easy, confident motion.

“Logan,” you protested softy, when you really had nothing against it.

“Come on, just do it,” he coaxed, glancing up at you.

Who were you to say no to a man on his knees? You decided on listening to him. Stepping out of your shoes, you felt the warm ground beneath you, hurting slightly from tiny rocks and dirt digging into the soles of your sock-clad feet.

You tied the shoes together by the laces and with a pathetic first attempt, you launched them high up into the air, no way near the power line. Logan let out a little laugh in utter disbelief because he found the action so endearing.

“It’s harder than it looks!” you defended.

“That’s what he said,” he joked under his breath as you tried again… and again.

Thankfully you were decent at other things, because throwing was not your forte. You were about to give up as you tossed one single last throw, groaning out of frustration as you tried your best. With eyes closed, you hoped for the best. A slow applause from Logan made you dare to look. And surely, there were your blue Nikes, dangling on the power line above you.

“Oh my God, I did it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in triumph. “Logan, take a picture, please!”

He chuckled, snapping a quick shot with the polaroid as you stood under the shoes, grinning like an idiot.

Before you knew it, Logan had swept you off your feet, literally, hoisting you onto his back. You kicked your legs weakly in protest, though your laugher told him you weren’t actually mad. Graciously, he even picked your skateboard up, sticking it between his arm and ribs.

“No, no, put me down. This is not working,” you squealed, feeling like you were about to fall off, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.

“I’m not putting you down,” Logan retorted as he started walking with ease down the sidewalk with you on his back. “You’ll hurt your feet.”

He shuffled you higher up on his back, his hands grasping tightly around your legs. You were scared he was going to drop you, or worse, fall over because of the weight.

“Put me down.” You tried your best to sound serious, but it did nothing, he just kept on walking. The hotel was only minutes away and he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

“You’re enjoying this,” Logan accused. “I know you are.”

You leaned your chin on his shoulder, finally giving in. “You've carried me this far, you might as well take me home.”

As you approached the luxurious hotel the team stayed at, Logan didn’t set you down until you were in the lift, earning looks from both guests and workers. Neither of you cared. He set you down gently, your sock-covered feet making a soft thud against the lift’s marbled flooring.

He gave you your skateboard back, shifting uncomfortably in his spot as the lift started moving upward. “I had fun tonight,” he whispered to you.

You leant against the wall, a loud exhale escaping you. “So did I.”

As you watched Logan, the laughter that had filled the air moments ago now gave way to something quieter, something more charged.

He took a small step towards you before you could even think, his face soft but his eyes intense, searching yours as if waiting for permission. There were a million things you wanted to tell him, to interrupt him, just to make sure—but the weight of the unspoken pulled you both together, speechless.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, your heart racing in sync with his as your lips hovered inches apart. He was just as nervous as you were.

You both closed your eyes, anticipation tingling through you, waiting for that inevitable spark—

“Hey!” Alex’s voice cut through the moment like a knife as the lift doors opened with a ding. He blinked at you both, stumbling away from each other, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “Where are your shoes, Paddy?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, and then down at your sock-clad feet. “Uhh… on a power line?”

Logan laughed, shaking his head. His cheeks were burning from what had almost happened, and from getting caught by Alex. It was so obvious. If only your rooms had been on a higher floor.

. . .

Las Vegas, USA

. . .

You changed after Mexico, and Logan took notice. You worked longer hours—a lot more than you needed to. You didn’t find the time to go exploring. Or if you did, you didn’t post it to your instagram diary. You also drifted apart from Logan. Your conversations were shorter, your movie nights extinct, and you being a distraction for him was exchanged with you saying that you had more work to do. You became a ghost in his world, present but not truly there.

It didn’t matter how many times Logan tried to talk to you about it. The message was clear. You’d shut him out. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why. 

Your evening in Mexico City had been magical; at least that was what he felt. And even though Alex had interrupted at the worst possible moment, Logan still naively thought you’d be able to go back to that magic if you got a chance alone together. 

But you were busy in Brazil, and the promotional aspect of the Las Vegas Grad Prix was nothing short of crazy. Some might even have called it torturous. He just didn’t find the right time, and you didn’t even make the time for him to try. 

The stumbling, awkward times he had tried—Logan couldn’t even form a sentence. He’d interrupt you when you were working, or catch you just as you were about to go to bed. It was never good enough. His emotions had shifted insanely fast, or maybe they had moved at a slow pace for such a long time that they now felt like a tidal wave hitting him straight in the heart. 

He liked you. 

Your obsession with tater tots, your inability to sit still, your love for shitty movies, your ability to always match the colour of your sneakers to your work clothes. It was all the little things. Your way of treating him like he wasn’t wasted potential or fragile like fine china. That you knew how to deal with him, like this season wasn’t the end of the world. 

And the worst thing was that he was pretty damn sure that you liked him back. Yet, you were running. 

. . . 

You weren’t there to bother him when he finished the race in Las Vegas. You didn’t stand there with your camera, ready to get an unflattering picture of him dripping with sweat. And it wasn’t like in Baku, where he had sensed something was wrong immediately. This was calmer, and Angie just told him that you were back at the hotel when he asked. 

He got a point in Vegas, but you weren’t there to capture it. He got to look happy in pictures for other photographers and he got to finally express some happiness in the post-race interviews. And while a part of him was over the moon, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it seemed like you hadn’t even seen him accomplish it. 

That was why he now stood outside of your hotel room, freshly showered and changed but still buzzing with adrenaline, a shaking fist knocking lightly on the door. 

He shifted his weight, unsure if he was meant to be here, but he needed to see you. He needed to talk to you. He needed to actually kiss you, without interruptions. The both of you needed to celebrate, to feel a night of joy after this nightmare of a season. 

The girl who opened the door looked tired, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie draped over her head. Your makeup-less face showed dark circles under your eyes—something that had gotten worse in the last couple of weeks. You looked like you were on the move, already with your shoes on and your suitcase packed, standing right in the doorway. 

Logan saw it, but in his excited state—he didn’t immediately connect the dots. 

“I got points—,” Logan started, his voice brimming with pride before he corrected himself, the enthusiasm in his tone softening slightly. “Well, one point, but still.”

“I know, Logan,” you replied gently. “I’m proud of you.” 

Even if you hadn’t been at the paddock tonight, you hadn’t kept your eyes off the livestream for even a second. You may even have shed a tear as he crossed the finish line. 

Logan beamed for a second, the glow of the accomplishment still warming his chest. “You weren’t there after the race, so I thought I’d come see you now,” he continued, a hint of nervousness as he paced uncomfortably in place. “A bunch of us are going out to dinner—” 

But then his attention drifted. His brow furrowed, his attention drawn to the luggage again as realisation dawned.

“Why is your bag packed already?” 

You looked at the suitcase, the same realisation flashing across your face as if you'd forgotten it was there, or perhaps hoped he wouldn't notice, and then back up at Logan with a visible uncertainty. You shook your head as you knew you had to explain it to him. 

“They’ve agreed on an exemption from my contract,” you said quietly. “I’m not working the last two races.” 

“B-but why?” Logan stammered. 

“Because I asked for it,” you shrugged with an audible sigh. “I have a flight to catch tonight.” 

Logan felt his stomach drop as he took in your words. “Wait, you’re going home?” 

“No,” you scoffed. “I’m not sure I’m welcome there.” 

The weight of those words settled heavy between you both. Logan was unsure of what to say. He felt like he knew more about your family than you let on, but he hadn’t expected you to be this lost. He thought you were still figuring it out, like him.

He swallowed hard. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the conversation, but nothing added up. “Then where—?” 

“I’m starting out in San Francisco,” you said, cutting him off before he could finish. “And then I’ll see from there on.”

San Francisco. You’d mentioned it numerous times before. You had friends there. Professional skateboarders. It made sense that was where you were running to. It made sense that you had been distant these last weeks. Because this couldn’t have been an easy decision for you. 

“I know we’ve talked a lot about your future, but mine is just as uncertain, and I need to do something about it. I can’t go home to a place where I don’t belong. I need to find my own ground.” 

You were almost desperate as you spoke. 

Logan took a step closer, still having a hard time grasping what was even going on. “Wasn’t that what this year was all about?” 

“It was always a fixed-term contract, you know that. Angie just bought me some time to figure things out,” you explained. 

“So, running away is you figuring things out?” His words came out sharper than intended, and regret instantly washed over him.

“Logan,” you said, almost pleading now, as if asking him not to push any further.

Maybe you weren’t running away now. Maybe you had already ran, the start of this season being your first stop. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” Logan paused, his hands gesturing toward you as if he wanted to hold on to something, anything, to keep you from slipping away. “I have something to say to you.” 

“I know you do,” you replied instantly, not letting him speak any further. Your voice creaked as you felt a cry clogging up your throat. “Trust me, I do too. But it’s not the right time for either of us. It will only complicate things.” 

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as quickly. The words he longed to say hung heavy in his throat, unsaid and unacknowledged. He knew you were right. He knew it. But the words felt hollow in the face of you leaving. The question hung in his throat, unspoken. Would you stay if I asked?

You both knew that the answer to that question would be yes, in a heartbeat. He couldn’t ask that from you. He would never be the one to hold you back. You had enough people against you. He needed to be with you, even if that meant oceans apart.

“Is this goodbye, then?” His voice cracked as he asked it. 

You shook your head slowly, reaching into your carry-on bag. “I have this for you.” From the depths of the small bag, you pulled out a simple, leather-bound photo album, perfectly pristine, and handed it to him. 

Logan looked down, fingers tracing the edges before opening it. Revealed was a collection of photos you had taken over the past year—candid shots, moments of him between races, behind the scenes. His chest tightened as he looked at the first one, an image of him laughing, helmet in hand, caught mid-conversation with his team. You had always seen him differently, and now, looking at these photos, he could see how much it meant to you.

There was a mixture of digital, film, and polaroid pictures, all signed with the corresponding city and date. You’d started this collection when you were simply work acquaintances. The best photos were the ones that had nothing to do with racing. Sightseeing, views from hotel room balconies, and restaurants with the local cuisine. 

His ultimate favourite that you had included was the one he had taken of you in Mexico, barefoot with your sneakers hanging over you on a power line. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said, the guilt clear in your voice. “I didn’t know until this morning—” 

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he cut you off gently, his eyes still focused on the photos.

You bit your lip, still on the verge of tears. Seeing him so captivated by your year together in photos made it much harder. 

He looked up, gently closing the album, and with a quick motion, he had embraced your body, wrapping his arms around you with a loud sigh. His t-shirt was soft against your skin as you felt it grow wet from your tears that had finally fallen. You could feel his heartbeat, ticking impatiently. 

“Do you think I’m making a mistake by leaving?” 

Again, if he said yes… You would rethink everything. 

“No, I think you’re doing what you need to do.” 

Logan was determined.

“I really have to go now,” you said softly, but you didn’t make any effort to move away from his embrace. You leaned into him instead, your head resting against his chest. You felt his trembling breaths, almost like a stuttering, keeping him from crying out loud. 

“Just a couple more seconds,” Logan whispered into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added, a slight tone of hope noticeable. 

“I know we both will.” 

Finally, you pulled back, but you left the goodbye unsaid. You reached to squeeze his hand as a last gesture. You’d never been good at goodbyes, so you left it to the lights. The soft glow of the Las Vegas skyline was the only thing illuminating the hotel hallway as you flipped the switch and slipped out the door, making a beeline for the lift. 

It was the end of an era. Logan knew it before the year had even started. He just hadn’t imagined it to feel this important—to feel this uncertain. He hadn’t imagined you. And when he started to imagine you, it was already too late. It had always been too late.

He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t lost you. But it felt strangely like it. 

Logan stood still in that hotel corridor for way too long, staring at the spot where you had been. This was the way it had to be, but he wasn’t sure that made it any easier. 

. . .

Fort Lauderdale, USA

. . .

Logan went home after the season ended. He stayed for the prize giving ceremony. He stayed long enough to say goodbye to the people that it mattered to. Then he went home, and he wasn’t sure how he would look back at his past experiences. Now it mostly hurt, but still—he had made it there in the first place. 

Home meant Florida this time. England, or Europe in general, had been his home for most of his conscious life, yet he never felt homesick for it. That was until now, when it wasn’t his home anymore. Florida was nice, it was always just nice. The weather was warm and the beaches were pretty, but when he was sunburnt to the point of peeling and had sand in his shoes, he missed the bleak English mornings with rain pattering against the windows. 

He signed for Indycar in the end, and when the season started in March, Logan found it refreshing. He loved racing, and he loved that he got a chance to do it again. He didn’t love the pressure put on him, mostly by strangers on the internet. He didn’t love the rookie title because he wasn’t treated like a rookie. He’d raced in the pinnacle of motorsport, he should know better. He should be better. Logan tried to not let it get to him, because in the end—he was the one that had made it to the pinnacle. Not a lot of other drivers could say that, especially other Americans.  

You liked every single one of his Instagram posts. Commented when he did well in races. That was the closest thing you two had to communication. Logan understood you, though—that you needed to leave when you had the chance to. He couldn’t have changed that. He wouldn’t have changed that. 

He thought of messaging you, but he had a hard time figuring out what to say. Writing down something long in his notes app, only to cringe at himself seconds later. Nothing seemed right and nothing seemed fair, like he was guilt-tripping you into reminiscing the last year. He knew what he felt for you, but he could never force you to be closer to him, to give up your chance at exploring and finding yourself. It was better to just let you live, but he knew what you felt for him too, that was why it was so hard for him to stay away. 

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Logan liked every single one of your Instagram posts as well. You kept up with the diary, even if the travelling wasn’t as rapid as under the racing season. 

He saw pictures of you all over the American west coast. You were on cable cars and steep streets in San Fransisco. You were skating in Venice Beach, surfing in Santa Cruz, and hiking in Yosemite. You went on road trips up north to go to concerts in Portland and Seattle for bands that Logan had never heard of. 

You hadn’t been kidding when you said you had friends there. The skateboarding collective you lived with in Cole Valley was a never ending stream of eclectic people coming and leaving. 

Your closest friend was the girl with bright pink hair that he had spotted on your Instagram before from your numerous university art projects. She skated on a competitive level and you would join to take photos of her. 

Another one of your friends was a boy who looked strangely like Timothée Chalamet. He was a tattoo artist who would go skating with you at night to spot pretty sunsets. He tried not to be jealous. He should have confessed his feelings for you to even have a reason to be jealous. 

Your posts became more scarce during the early summer. When you posted a slideshow of pictures of Tater Tot with a long caption about his passing, Logan understood why. He felt tears forming in his eyes as he watched the pictures of you and the golden retriever, the fur around his face having faded and his nose all pink from old age. 

He felt like reaching out to you even more after that, especially since you were back home with your family and he could only imagine how that felt for you. When you posted a picture of a new family dog not too long after, with a normal boring dog name that he could tell you hadn’t chosen, he felt a slight anger inside.

You went skating around Europe after that, the girl with pink hair by your side. You posted a video of Angie trying to skate while in Barcelona, and Logan connected the dots that you had gone to the Spanish Grand Prix. He liked that you were still welcomed by the team, but he was unsure if he would’ve gotten a similar treatment. 

On a weekend without racing, Logan was back home in Fort Lauderdale. He spent the evening with his brother and some friends in their backyard. He was there, but he didn’t feel present. Something you had taught him stemmed from anxiety. It wasn’t as bad as it was during his last F1 season, but he still liked to look at your pictures as a distraction when he felt anxious. The stories they told were still better than what was going on in his actual life. 

“Since when are you interested in skateboarding?” his brother's voice broke through his focus. Logan barely had time to register him hovering over his shoulder before he took a seat across from him, sinking into a deck chair with a teasing grin.

Logan didn’t realise that he had a video of yours on repeat. It was you in a skatepark in Copenhagen, landing a trick you’d never done before. 

“Oh, I’m not—” he started, his tongue suddenly feeling clumsy in his mouth as he fumbled for an excuse. “It’s the old Williams photographer, she’s travelling to all these places to skate. It’s quite cool to see.” 

His brother raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Logan flushed under the scrutiny, knowing full well that his brother could read him like an open book. He didn’t just think it was quite cool. He was invested—and not just in the skateboarding.

“A girl, you say?” his brother pressed. 

“It’s not like that, she’s on the other side of the world,” Logan protested quickly, slipping his phone back in his pocket as if to hide any evidence of his admiration. 

His brother could only laugh at his poor attempt of conviction. “Would it be like that if she was closer?” 

Logan froze, unable to answer. His brother was able to read his expression all too well again, his smile softening as he watched Logan carefully. 

“I am taking that as a yes.” 

. . .

Oxfordshire, UK

. . .

Angela and Matthew Thompson, read the sign outside of the rented out manor house. Somewhere in the English countryside, as the evening sun cast a golden glow over the courtyard. You’d snapped photos of the garden and the exterior, but the sign stopped you for a moment. 

You found it odd, firstly seeing Angie be called by her actual first name and then secondly, not by her maiden surname. You guessed that was what it was like—getting married. The formal side of it all, at least. 

Click. 

You got a quick photo of the sign before you entered back into the manor. The big ballroom was filled with the soft murmur of guests and the rustling of chiffon dresses. 

The ceremony had been earlier during the day, a small gathering with only immediate family around. You’d only been there because of your duty to photograph the entire thing. Otherwise you probably wouldn’t have. Angie’s cousin was her only bridesmaid and Matthew had his closest childhood friend as his only groomsman. Both their parents were present as well, and Angie’s grandmother had been ring bearer. Adorable, that was the only way to describe it. Quaint and quite literally perfect, in the manor’s rose garden with birds chirping and a violin player. 

Click.

You stood in the doorway to the ballroom, adjusting your camera, scanning the scene for the perfect shot. You found it in two of the party’s younger guests, looking at the wedding cake with temptation in their eyes. The was just something about kid’s in formal clothes. A little crooked bowtie and sparkly silver ballerina shoes. 

The reception was bigger, with friends, distant relatives and work colleagues invited. Your family was included in that, but you had gotten good at keeping a distance and they had gotten better at ignoring you instead of arguing with you. That was some sort of improvement. Having the excuse that you were technically working was also in your favour, even if Angie probably wanted to drink you under the table and get you dancing one of Matthew’s rich colleagues. 

There hadn’t been a dress code beyond formal, but somehow a lot of the guests seemed to match, making the photography blend together in perfect hues. You couldn’t wait to edit and put them together. Sage green, baby pink and light yellow. The men and their suits in tones of beige and blue. You guessed that was the English summer in colours. 

You were never really one to dress up nicely. You preferred something practical, but even you felt a little whimsical tonight. A periwinkle dress and white heels—a complete juxtaposition of your usual streetwear and sneakers. 

Click.

You managed to get a picture of the happy couple from far way. Candid, when they thought no one was watching. Those were usually the ones that turned out the best. No posing, no fixed smiles. Angie showed a wide and almost painfully happy grin as Matthew whispered something in her ear, sneaking in a kiss on her cheek. Only they would know what had been said when they, years down the line, flipped through the photo album from their special day. 

That was the beauty of photos. The secret stories they held. 

You smiled to yourself, getting lost in the scene that showed through the viewfinder, shifting to find something new and equally magical in the movements of the ballroom. 

Suddenly, all you could see was one singular familiar face. 

You blinked, not believing your eyes before you zoomed in. Tall, blond, blue eyes catching the light—talking to a man you recognised as a Williams engineer. It couldn’t be… but it totally was. 

In a navy tailored suit, his tie slightly loosened, he raised a champagne coupe to his lips. He smiled at something the engineer said, flashing his teeth. You took a picture, and then one more—it was achingly familiar, yet so different.

It was like he knew he had a camera pointed towards him with how quick he reacted. He hadn’t even seen you when you took the first one, but by the time you were about to take a third one, his face was turned completely towards you—looking at your lens, looking at you. 

And of course, he waved. He smiled and he waved. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He quickly excused himself to the engineer and was then set on only you. He crossed the room with easy confidence, threading through the crowd. Since when was he so smooth?

You lowered your camera as your breath got caught in your throat, finally looking at him not through the viewfinder. 

“Logan,” you whispered, voice softer than expected. 

He said your name with an easy familiarity, one you’d almost forgotten. It pulled you back six months in time in mere seconds, as if nothing had changed. 

“Uhm, H-how did you get here?” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so surprised. You should’ve known he’d be here. Angie’s wedding had been a big talking point even back when he was driving for Williams. 

“There’s these things called airplanes,” he teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Ever heard of them?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to suppress. Silence fell over the two of you as you struggled to find ways to continue the conversation. The tension was palpable, stretching thin as if either of you could snap it with the wrong word. Logan looked lost too, like the confidence he thought he had washed away when he finally got close to you. 

You’d thought about it—what it would be like to talk to him again if you ever got the chance. Being speechless was never in those thoughts. 

“You’re hair has gotten long,” you blurted out, desperate to fill the silence and because it was honestly the first thing you noticed to be different about him. His blond hair had grown longer, with a slight wave to it, almost curling at the ends.

“Is that a compliment?” Logan mused.

“Yes,” you were too quick to reply. “Or, I think so. It’s different.” 

Logan chuckled softly as you winced at how clumsy you sounded. 

“So… you work weddings too?” he asked, glancing at the camera still in your hands. 

Great. He was shit at small talk too. 

“Only when it’s Angie,” you answered, trying to sound at ease. “I promised to make her look gorgeous even before she met Matthew.” 

You did not remember the first time she asked you. It was a decade ago at this point. But every time you had taken a photo of her—professionally and privately—she liked to remind you of how she felt like no one else ever had captured her fairly, or flatteringly. She was always your biggest fan, even when you were just taking grainy pictures of your friends at the local skatepark. 

“Can I see?” Logan asked and you handed him the camera without a doubt. 

There was something so familiar in the gesture, like muscle memory kicking in. You used to share everything with him. You were happy to know that even through it all, he at least still cared about your photography.  

Before you could even react, he raised the camera and snapped a picture of you, completely unprepared. The flash was too bright, and you squealed in surprise.

“Dude, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, blinking away the aftershock of the flash.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Dude? You’ve turned American!”  

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “I have not turned American.”

Logan joined your laughter, but only for a second—something on the camera catching his attention instead. He looked at it intensely, only for you to realise that it was the photo he’d taken of you. Overexposed and blurry. Not perfect in any way, but candidly capturing a moment. 

“My god, you look lovely.” 

He said it softly, like an afterthought, like he didn’t mean for you to hear it. 

Heat crept up to your cheeks as he handed you the camera back to you. You couldn’t look too long at the photo he’d taken of you, so you pressed the button to show the one taken prior. It was him, of course—smiling as he had clocked you from across the room. 

“So do you,” you said, showing him the picture of himself. “Happiness suits you.”

Logan’s smile faltered for a moment as you surprised even yourself with your honesty. You realised how he could overthink what you had just said—like happiness was something new for him to express. And maybe that was true. But it was a sad realisation, and a mortifying thing for someone else to have discovered about oneself. 

Before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“There you are!” Alex’s voice was bright, his cheeks tinted pink from champagne and dancing. “I’ve been looking for you!”

You turned, grateful for the distraction, as he came up and enveloped you in a hug. You smiled, hugging him back, telling him how you’d missed him. 

“Logan!” he exclaimed as he turned his attention to him. “It’s so good to see you.” 

They did one of those awkward side-hugs that men insisted on giving each other. Logan said something similar in response, his voice warm but his eyes still flicked to you. You gathered from just that little interaction that their departure must’ve been stretched and difficult. They were good friends, for christ sake, but Williams had made everything toxic. 

Alex beamed. “Well, come on! It’s my turn to pester Paddy with a camera. Scoot together.”

Before either of you could protest, Alex grabbed your camera, leaving you both standing there, shoulder to shoulder. A fire burning through the fabric where your bare shoulder touched his blazer. 

Click. 

. . .

After long speeches, and first dances, and consuming too much wedding cake, you found yourself on a balcony, taking a breather, looking out over the garden. You heard the door open behind you, and it was like you could feel that it was his presence. You let out a small laugh as you kept your eyes focused on the view. 

“What are we looking at?” Logan’s voice came soft and steady beside you, making you turn your head.

“My sister sharing a cigarette with a Williams mechanic,” you scoffed, nodding towards two figures below the balcony. 

Your sister, known as an overly ambitious goody two shoes, wasn’t only sharing the cigarette—she was shotgunning it. Your past self would’ve wanted to go tattle to your parents, but now you were kind of glad to see a human, imperfect side of your sister, acting promiscuous with a greasy mechanic.

There was a brief silence as the evening air wrapped around you. Logan slipped his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.

“How’s it been? With your family and all?” he slowly asked, trying to make it sound casual. 

“They still treat me like a toddler, if that’s what you’re wondering. But we don’t argue anymore—just pretend each other doesn’t exist,” you scoffed. 

He glanced at you, the hint of a frown on his face, but didn’t press further. Instead, he pulled out his phone from his suit pocket as it vibrated, the faint sound breaking the quiet between you.

You let your eyes linger on him for a moment. The small gesture shouldn’t have meant anything, but something about the way his fingers moved so delicately over the screen made you pause. Then you saw it—the photo behind his clear phone case.

“That’s from Mexico,” you said without thinking. 

Logan glanced at you, then back at his phone, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. My favourite from the album you gave me.”

You blinked, remembering the moment instantly—tossing shoes over a power line, him carrying you home, Alex doing what he did best—interrupting.

“I know it’s slightly pathetic, but that was one of the best days of my life,” Logan admitted, shying away from looking at you. 

It had been one of the few peaceful moments amidst the storm of races, pressure, and long, chaotic nights. It was supposed to be just another moment, but it had become more. You both knew it meant so much more. 

“It’s not pathetic, Logan. At least, I don’t think so,” you reassured him. Your heart clenched at his honesty, but you felt it all the same as him. 

Logan let out a small breath of laughter, but the smile that accompanied it didn’t reach his eyes. He slid his phone back into his pocket, but the photo lingered in your mind. Logan glanced back at the ballroom, then back at you, his gaze lingering as if he was working up the courage to say something else.

But then his eyes dropped, right to where your arm touched against your ribs, a small glint of ink peeking out, darker than any of your other tattoos. Logan froze. 

“That’s my number…” he said, his voice soft with disbelief. 

You felt your breath hitch as he stared at it. You instinctively rubbed your fingers over the tattoo, tracing the outline of the small F1 car inked delicately with his racing number on the nose. You suddenly felt very exposed, but not in a bad way. You moved your arm to give him a better view. 

“What other number could I possibly have picked?” you wondered, tilting your head. “I did tell you that I was planning to get one.” 

His hand nervously reached for yours, his thumb brushing over the tattoo with tenderness, touching you in a way he hadn’t before. The new ink sat just centimetres above the tiny paw prints you had in memory of Tater Tot. Logan could’ve cried on the spot. 

“I really like it,” he whispered. 

He dared to meet your gaze. You stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything between you suddenly heavier than ever. His thumb continued to caress the tattoo. 

“Are we okay, Logan?”

He exhaled as you asked it, out of relief it seemed. 

“I thought everything would be different, seeing you again,” Logan explained. “But I strangely feel like nothing has changed since Vegas.” 

You nodded, a smile creeping up on your face, as you could only agree with him. The distance, the time apart, hadn’t dulled anything between you. If anything, it had only clarified what had always been there.

In the background, you could still hear the music play loudly from inside the ballroom. Your sister and her mechanic were long gone from the garden. You had nothing to worry about and everything to win. 

“So… how do you feel about dancing at weddings, Sargeant?” 

. . .

The manor had rooms for all the guests to stay overnight. You stumbled into yours in the small hours of the night—tipsy from champagne, tired from dancing. Logan was right behind you, laughing at you almost falling over from trying to unclasp your heels.

“Need some help there?” Logan teased.

“I’ve got it,” you mumbled, finally getting them off to feel the carpet against your bare feet.

Logan took a stance by the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his navy suit pants, looking out onto the moonlit garden. His jaw was tense, a sign that he was thinking—no, overthinking.

You watched him for a moment, how his fingers flexed slightly in his pockets, how his shoulders rose and fell with a breath, before you went into the en suite bathroom, desperate to get your makeup off after wearing it all day. It was an oddly familiar feeling, being alone with him in a hotel room.

The rest of the wedding had been so lovely. It hadn’t mattered much about what had been left unsaid, but instead what mattered was the way you acted towards each other now. You had been bracing yourself for the moment it all would break loose the entire night, ever since your eyes met his across the reception hall, but you had no idea how to start.

It turned out, you didn’t have to.

“You wanna know something?” Logan’s voice was slow, his back still turned against you, as he spoke. He waited for you to say something, but all you did was mumble a huh from the bathroom, clearly more focused on your makeup than on him.

He took a breath, slowly turning to you. He felt himself melt at the sight of you—in your pretty dress and a squeaky clean bare face. His gaze held yours, and in that quiet second, the world shifted.

“I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”

The words slipped from his lips easily, almost like they had always been there, waiting for this moment to escape.

You froze in your movement, putting your skincare back in your makeup bag, not sure that you had heard him correctly. “What?”

“I said,” Logan repeated, a touch firmer, “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”

You stepped away from the sink, opting to stand in the doorway instead as you watched him—how emotions washed over his face like colours melting together in a sunset. You had a hard time hiding the smile that began to form on your face. “You’re in love with me?”

Logan shifted, looking almost sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t look so smug,” he muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re gonna make me regret saying anything.”

But you didn’t feel smug—not in the slightest. Your chest instead filled with warmth, something dangerously close to… well, love.

“Well, excuse me for being a little happy about the fact that you love me back,” you said, almost argumentatively, crossing your arms.

“Back? You love me too?” Logan walked closer, almost stumbling as he passed the corner of the bed.

“Yeah, dumbass.” You rolled your eyes at his oblivion. “I’ve had a crush on you since before you even knew I existed.”

“A crush?” Logan chuckled, a sound full of disbelief and a little wonder. “How long have you—”

“Since Baku,” you interrupted, your voice quieter now, more serious. “I think I’ve loved you since you stayed with me in Baku.”

That admission hung in the air, heavy with memories of long flights, foreign cities, whispered conversations in crowded spaces, and the closeness that had grown between you. Logan stared at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Maybe the two of you hadn’t exactly known what the other wanted to say, that last night in Vegas. Or maybe, neither of you could’ve expected the intensity of emotions that would come to the surface when you finally did get to say what you had wanted to.

“Why are you still standing so far away?” Logan took a deep breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Come take what’s yours,” he then whispered, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Without another thought, you exited the bathroom and crossed the room in a few quick strides. You felt your pulse thrumming in your ears as you reached him, and without hesitation, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling a steady heartbeat beneath your palms.

Logan’s arms closed around you, his warm hands brushing the skin of your back, exposed by the low hem of your dress. He pulled you closer, until there was no space left between you.

His lips found yours, soft and sure. You melted into the kiss, into him. This time, there was no one to interrupt you. Months of longing and unspoken feelings poured into one single moment.

As soon as Logan felt you smile against his lips, he was sure world peace was achievable. With more confidence, he kissed you with a feverish intent, slipping his tongue in your mouth, falling backwards onto the mattress with you on top of him.

Moving your legs, you straddled his lap, sinking down comfortably on top of him while you put your arms around him. He rested against the bed frame, hair getting messed up as your fingers played at the nape of his neck. You continued to kiss, his hands rushing to touch your body—one on your cheek and the other on your waist. Your dress bunched up around your thighs as you pressed closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through layers of fabric.

You pulled apart after a moment, but only far enough to inhale, your noses still touching. The room was dead quiet, save for the panting sound of your breathing.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you,” Logan murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “The things I’ve held back…” he added softly, his thumb now gently stroking the side of your face.

“You could tell them to me now,” you teased, sneaking in a small peck. A smirk tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips. “My brain can’t really focus when you’re sat on me like this,” he said, his fingers tracing slow circles along the exposed skin of your upper thigh.

You bit your bottom lip, brain filled with lust and sudden bravery. “Unzip me, please?”

“Should we— I just don’t want to rush anything,” Logan mumbled out of nervousness.

“You don’t think a year worth of tension is enough?” you whispered, smiling.

Logan swallowed, his hand daring to move behind you. The sound of your zipper easily sliding open filled the silence between you as his fingers delicately touched your exposed back. His eyes never left your body as the thin straps fell off your shoulders, the top half of your dress pooling around your waist. With a soft tug, you were all exposed. The white lace of your bra doing almost nothing to conceal your chest.

You were privy to his persistent stare at your body. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t, and your satisfaction was hard to withhold, a devious smile forming on your lips. His hands moved under your skirt, gently lifting it over your head, revealing delicate white lace panties that matched your bra.

“Did you plan this?” Logan had to fight himself to not let his jaw physically drop at the sight of you.

He held a certain emotion in the way he looked at you. You’d seen desire before in a lover’s eyes. This was softer. This was different. Devotion, maybe. Love, most definitely.

“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.

With a soft exhale, he chuckled in utter disbelief. Dipping his head, he couldn’t help but kiss the valley between your breasts, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. His hair tickled against your neck as his mouth explored, surely leaving a mark or two.

With a quick movement, he unclasped your bra, discarding it as he continued to kiss your skin. Your breasts, your collarbones, your neck and jaw. He even moved to kiss a spot on your arm, making sure you took notice at how his lips gently pressed against your tattoo of his racing number.

You both took a moment, letting your eyes linger on each other’s. It was hard to find things to say, but you guessed the silence, panting breaths and growing humidity were enough to express what you both wanted.

Your fingers diligently started to unbutton his shirt, leaving kisses on his neck and sternum as each inch of his skin was revealed for you. When you reached the last button, your hands dangerously close to his lower stomach, Logan moved swiftly to remove his shirt in one go, tossing it on the floor to land next to your dress.

Immediately, you sunk your fingers back into his blond waves, tugging lightly as you kissed his swollen lips. He matched your ferocity, sliding his hands from your waist down to your ass, squeezing over the soft lace. Both of you groaned at the feeling of your hips grinding down onto the fabric covering his growing hardness, almost a surprised feeling at how quickly it all had evolved.

“I’m starting to think you might like me or something,” you giggled, like an angel.

Logan wanted to argue. He wanted to say something witty. But he had no choice. With your wandering hands, all he could do was bite down on his lip to drown a pathetic moan trying to escape. With your wandering hands, you pulled his zipper open, helping him out of the rest of his clothes.

His cock sat hard in the space between your bodies, and as you tentatively touched him, feeling hot and heavy in your hand, he whined out a sting of curses. His stomach flexed as he ached for real friction, your hand only lazily stroking him. He groaned, head falling back to hit the headboard. The loveliest of pinks suffused his cheeks, a trail of rose-coloured blotches lingering all the way down his chest.

He tried to drag you closer to him with a firm grip on your hips, desperately searching for more. His hand found its way down between your legs, gently touching over a wet patch that had formed on your panties.

You hummed at the sensation, kissing his jawline, feeling him tense at your touch. “Can I ride you?”

“Mhm, yeah… you want that?” Logan panted, gentle little breaths pushing past his lips.

Nodding enthusiastically, you placed your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, eyes darkened. “I have condoms in the bathroom,” you said getting off of his lap, walking over. At the loss of touch, Logan couldn’t help but audibly whine.

You made a point to shake your hips as you walked. You knew you had his eyes on you. After fetching the little foil packet from your makeup bag, you stopped in the doorway to pull your underwear off, dragging the flimsy lace agonisingly slowly down your legs as Logan could only watch.

“You look heavenly,” he whispered as you towered over him to kiss him, before straddling his lap again, your naked body finally touching his without anything in between.

Logan swallowed his moans as you carefully tore open the condom packet and rolled it over his sensitive length. He helped you lift you up on your knees, enough to align himself with your soaking entrance. A year of tension really was enough foreplay. Fluttering around him, you adjusted to all of him, carefully and slowly moving into a perfect rhythm.

You couldn’t be held responsible for the words and sounds leaving your mouth as you rocked against him. His hands gripped your waist and then your ass, kneading the soft flesh, spilling out between his fingers. You heard him suck in a breath as your fingers got entangled in his hair, gently pulling at the ends.

“Logan,” his name left your mouth with a delicate whine.

“Hm?”

You needed him to look at you. Logan’s hand found home on your cheeks, keeping his eyes tightly locked with yours as you connected in the most primal way. “Tell me I’m yours,” he whispered gently, feeling himself bottom out inside of you.

“You’re mine, all mine, baby,” you reassured, finding his lips for a messy kiss.

Slowly, you started bouncing faster, Logan’s hands guided you, helping you with every move, rise and fall. You were both stuttering out moans at the almost overwhelming feeling—the wetness, the squeezing, the friction.

It didn’t take long before you were both panting, flushed messes, the movement slowing down as the desperate feeling of release grew stronger.

“Are your legs getting tired?” Logan asked, voice hoarse. “F-fuck, let me help.”

He tilted you, shifting to a more horizontal position, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, sucking and kissing wherever you could reach. With forceful thrusts, he up fucked into you, digging his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you even closer.

He took care of you. Your tits bounced against him as you moved together. The tension inside of you only growing and spiralling. Logan reached between your bodies, moving his limber fingers to circle your puffy clit.

You repeated his name through broken moans, all choked and caught in your throat, as he continued his mission. Through deep breaths, you got lost in the scent of him. Cologne, musky and warm. It was almost distracting, until he reached a soft spot, thrusting inside of you.

“I’ve got you,” he reassured. “I’m right here, let it all out.” Logan brought you over the edge. You bit down on his shoulder as the feeling washed over you, a white fire lighting from inside of you. His writhing against you told you he wasn’t long after, filling the condom as he rode out both of your highs. He rested still inside of you for a while as you both caught your breaths.

You needed help to get off him, your legs still shaking. With a tired moan, he slipped out and you collapsed on the bed next to him, feeling the sheets ruffle around you. Logan glimmered under the moonlight seeping in through the windows, as sweat stuck to his flushed skin. His outgrown hair falling over his forehead.

You faced each other on the bed, your voices barely above whispers, not necessarily thanking each other, but more just mumbles about how special this felt. Logan’s hand found your arm, delicately tracing the car tattooed on your bicep. It tickled, so you let out a breathy laugh as you placed your hand on top of his.

Logan’s lips curled into a lazy smile as he felt your reaction. “Did you get any other tattoos?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head lightly. “I think you’ve seen them all now.”

There was a softness in his expression that made you feel safer than ever before. It was the kind of comfort that came with time, with knowing someone deeply and being known in return.

“When did you know that you liked me?” you asked suddenly, thinking back to your own admission about falling for the sight of him through your lens before you had even had a conversation together.

“In Australia,” he said after a beat, his voice gentle. “You were talking so fondly about tater tots.”

“Tater tots?” you echoed with a grin. “That’s when you knew?”

You had a feeling it wasn’t only about your love for fried potatoes, thinking about what had happened just moments before that conversation. He had started to like you because you cared about him in a moment where he felt his weakest.

“I was quietly observing you before that, but I think that was our first actual conversation,” Logan said, reminiscing. “And then,” he continued, his tone growing softer, “I just kept falling for you. Every city, every race, every little thing you did.”

Your heart warmed in your chest as his words washed over you. You felt the pull of the past, the shared experiences, the way your lives had intertwined across the globe.

“Seeing you throw your sneakers over the power line in Mexico made me realise that I love you,” Logan finally whispered.

“I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching to gently kiss him again… and again.

Afterward, you left the bed to take a moment for yourself in the bathroom. Discarding the condom, peeing to prevent a UTI, staring at yourself in the mirror for an undisclosed amount of time. You looked like a mess, but a beautiful mess—with splotchy love bites and scratches.

You turned the shower on, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t get the clinging feeling of sweat off your body.

“Are you getting in with me?” you asked Logan, peeping out behind the bathroom door to hide your naked body, spotting him still sat on the bed, the sheets covering him.

Logan lifted his gaze from the floor, meeting yours with a slow smile. He didn’t move; he only tilted his head in thought. “Why does that feel more intimate than what we just did?”

“Because it is,” you hesitantly answered, fidgeting with your fingers as your nails tapped on the door.

It didn’t take long for you both to be drenched and humid in the warm water of the shower, not having any hurry of getting out, steam fogging up the bathroom. You were just enjoying the closeness for now. Body against body. Your hands massaged his scalp as you washed shampoo out of it.

“Soo…” Logan began, dragging out the word, droplets were falling from his hair over his face. “What happens now?”

“Round two?” you teased, buying yourself a moment to think about the actual implication of his question.

Logan chuckled, but waited for a true answer. Round two was inevitable. He was asking something deeper.

“I’ve got nothing to do and a newfound love for racing and the US,” you finally said, easy as pie. “You should take advantage of that.”

“I think I might,” he smiled. “Life is a lot better with you close.”

You reached up to cup his cheeks, the pads of your thumbs gently rubbing over his pink cheekbones. His eyes looked onto yours, pulling you closer as his hands found the curve of your waist, the water still falling on you like an outburst of rain from a stormy sky, electricity unloading.

“We’ll be alright, I think,” you mumbled, gracefully placing a kiss on his wet lips.

Logan’s voice echoed softly in the bathroom, words leaving with an unusual certainty.

“I’m starting to think so too.”

Thank you for reading! ♡ Please comment, reblog, like or send me a messenger pigeon.

I'm calling this beast my best attempt at a fix-it fic. This was a nightmare and tumblr's paragraph limit is my mortal enemy. I had to remove like three scenes to even fit all of this which messed up the timeline like crazy. The title is from Worst Case Kid by Tommy Lefroy!

[vivisviolets]

⛓ who is your tribe? 𓆩📓𓆪 𓆩🖤𓆪 how will you meet? ⛓

✮i love how i connected these 3 pics im sooo smart guys

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ -pick the image that gotchu good 👁👁 gotcha eyes~ you know how to do it I know you do- if you feel unclear, take a nice deep breath, connect with spirit/God/your higher self, and ask what messages would serve you in this very moment~ this has been your radio host vi-vi talkin🎙, and I'll catch at your pile~🖋️✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖✮pile 1✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Five of Swords (reversed), Five of Wands (reversed), Ace of Wands, The Hierophant, Page of Cups (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ (slight 18+ cw) Libra/air placemnets, 7th house (Sun/Moon/Rising/Mercury/7h dominant etc), 1 house placements, Aries placements/degrees (Moon/Rising, etc), Nepo baby/“girl(boy/kid)-next-door” vibes, hair extentions, “going blonde”, Legally Blonde, angel numbers 1111, 222, 2424, 1234, channeled songs, Casual - Chappell Roan + How to be a Heartbreaker - MARINA

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Hello my pile 1s!!!!! omg i wanted to jump right in but I feel the need to greet you into this becaussse- omg you are gorgeous- like I am being so fr DO NOT play yourself down I can hear the mind chatter of some of you gearing up at me saying that,-shut that shish down. on the other side of this group,- you already know you were born beautiful, raised beautiful, and have always been your own created beauty, you’re so tapped into that and really you always have- so I want everyone in this pile, to align to that energy rn. 👏R👏N👏. No matter your upbringing, whatever your family told you, your past friend groups, your classmates,- you don’t got to do or be someone else’s anything. you speak for yourselfff- and you always have!! no matter how deep your security periods were, you still radiated- radiance💎 and strength- damn you guys are strong, no matter how “submissive” some of yall feel to be (your vulnerability is divine btw and def a part of your strength)- you are strong af. strong in only a way the wind is (I mean think of how destructive that nature can be yet how soothing its flow is when it is calm) or a polished pillar… I JUST KEEP HEARING IT- YOU GUYS ARE BEAUTIFULLLL. ugh I gotta get into more dets for you- I’m hearing that some of you are blonde (natural/dyed/bleached it dont matter) and damn does it make you look like a star ☆- PLEASEEE YOU’RE A STARRR ♥️- sorry- it looks so good on you the more fair aura because that is definitely the color of your aura in social situations (I’m hearing pale lavender, blue, pink, yellow), I’m hearing you have very calming eyes.. something about the color of your eyes is very “even” in color, or you may know how to keep very even eye contact and that makes the color of your eyes stand out (anyyy eye color- I’m even seeing some of you may have a kind of heterochromia where you may have a dot of brown in your blue iris/other colors apply, etc), some of the people who you’ve kept such level eye contact with during conversation- they think they’d be able to see your eyes in a dark room they stand out so much…

oh my god pile 1 you are a star- moving forward I have to mention, some of you are very proud brunettes- as you fucking should be because oh my jesus that’s hot, your hot, you are a star ★, a superstar- I am not just saying that holy shit. I’m seeing you may stand out in your friend group or who you usually hang out with due to your coloring whatever that may mean (for example cus we’re on the topic of hair- you may be a blonde within a lot of brunettes, or vice versa- you may have brown eyes among a bunch of blue/green eyes, vice versa- you may be only one who tans, has lots of birth marks, wears their hair natural, etc etc),- now I’m hearing I should be giving random styling opinions/boosting- so if you have a y2k grunge aesthetic, or old hollywood glam style you look incredibleeee- don’t you fucking dare bring your body type into this- if you’re an apple body you look like literal heaven in a pair of low rise bedazzled jeans- long straight hair looks so good with your body shape, get wigs if you’ve been thinking about it- get braids if you’ve been wanting them- different color highlights is definitely a good idea (blonde, orange, blue, purple), tighter tops look so good on your body shape (lace up ones or ones with details/graphtics)- a clean sleek white dress would literally ☆shock☆ everyone in a room who knows you/your style (and ppl who don’t know you loll), nude makeup that matches the rest of your undertones, glossy press on nails, one piece of jewelry per type here and there,- some more gn/masc opinions I’m hearing are more shaped clothes, botton downs tucked in high rise straight down jeans/pants (showcase the shape of your shoulders and waist a bit moreee)- I’m hearing if you were to wear a brooch of somekind on your shirt pocket you’d drive someone “wild”-… I MEAN MAYBE THAT’LL JUST BE ME 💞💀- curls look so great on you also, like if you did a larger loose curl somewhere in the front of your hair- gel curls would also look hot on you- star accents of some kind (jewelry, belt charms, keychains, even tattoos),,, you are totally someone’s “pretty boy”/“pretty girl”/“pretty baby”… OH MY GOD THIS IS A RELATIONSHIPS/FRIENDSHIPS PAC WHERE WAS III-

so I was getting into it even in the energy check-in some of you may be coming from a place of past drama- yes I said past bc even if it's fresh it will be past, and in that it is already the past babe. so anyway- there is something.. romantic here- possibly, but really I’m hearing you are in admiration by a lot of eyes-… now I’m hearing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid lol BAHHA oooohh~ you think your life is really mundane and so you’re hearing me say you have eyeballs on you like “… I leave my house once a week”- …bitch- your envioment means nothinggg and can change when you want it to fr. no matter your place this is your natural energy- I’m hearing your natural energy is being a socialite- and I mean you are meant to shine like a glittery star in various rooms- WITH YOUR GAL PALS!! this can even apply for going into a business/professional environment where you speak and interact with a lot of people and you are at the center of that- But anyway take it where it may apply. for some of you- you may do amazing in more queer centered places (clubs, awareness groups, or even drag shows in your area), places with a lot of creativity in relation to fashion (maybe even theater?) and makeup- for others here you should get out more in your school/college (gardening clubs or outdoor volunteer work would definitely benefit you), even if it’s just walking around your enviroment- wherever you walk you own, and you make yourself known…

I’m seriously feeling that so hard- AND SOME OF YOU DARE TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO YOUR OWN INNER SHINE. it's seriously beginning to bug me how you’re still staying in this insecure, bitter, fearful, energy, that is not yours but you continue to claim it!!! WTF. anyways, to those of you resonating with that- I’m being sooo fr, as soon as you kick those feelings to the curb (to be run over and killed 💅) and you fully allow yourself to bloom and allow the sun to shine on you- there will be buzzing. BUZZINGGGG🐝. put yourself out there and seriously just experiment with what it feels like to be with different social groups, don’t take it personally, expect nothing, just do it for your own self experimentation~ doesn’t that sound fun??? I'm getting the tingles just thinking about it~again with those spaces I talked about, no matter your feelings- wherever you walk you own. you belong because you know you belong in yourself. that’s your natural state and no matter how vicious some people were in seeing that in you, you still own that about you ☆ and it is your choice to use that divine gift given to you. please trust and believe when I say that once you step into that inner, pure, state of being- you will be divinely protected, any ◉ attacks are small potatoes and will be diced.

ANYWAYS WOOO- ummm all those spaces that I mentioned are fully open to you, and are definitely where you’ll meet your tribe- again, I’m seeing your “tribe” will more so be you being you and coming in and receiving a lot of admiration- people will just love to talk to you as soon as you come in (I’m seeing especially for the queer/fashion/creative group people coming up to you with armfuls of clothing joyfully wanting your opinion I loveee this for you)- I’m speaking about the future mainly to my more underdeveloped group of this pile, but let me jump into the future which is the place some of you are very much stepping into rn!!!- you’re having people crossing their legs in club booths to fit more people into your get to together- BAHHA- people want to be close to you, catch up, ask where you’ve been traveling to or what you’re wearing- and you’re finally soaking it all up and sitting so relaxed, your smile is dazzling and you’re taking a nice breath in and out as all of this healthily regulates your ego + your higher self.. this is honestly giving that if you weren’t the “queen bee” in your high school- you are now but in your 20s/30s/40s/etc!! and you’re handling it amazingly well, because you still choose to go home solo most nights still high and happy ♡ I love this for you. you also get asked to be the leader or placed as the head of a lot of different projects- it’s more so you oversee them and everyone works around you- the thing is, that you don’t let all this go to your head because you’ve already grounded your self-worth- and because of that attitude, people then want you around even more. when you come in, people want you in your group for the day/hour/20 minutes before another group wants you lol.

you’re fabulous ok? it’s more than fine to be that, it’s divine ♡! soo many people are going to feel like the moth to your flame, it’s already been destined to happen literally😵💫!!!! just keep a watch out for the ones taking too much from you or being up and down with their give-and-take from you, because you deserve someone/people around you who stay hot for you and fan your bright flame while enjoying its warmth (unless they need their own personal space- ppl are ppl, not npcs lol)… I guess I should just briefly state before I finish your reading- the chorus of Casual by Chappell Roan was replaying through your whole reading- I’m not saying this as a cop-out, you have people stopping and, in fact, falling to their knees when they’re in your energy. I see one or two people who are already a part of your larger group environment being very infatuated with you (and I’d definitely keep your eye on them and remain open to this possibility- for some of you this special someone is in your group setting is so pure in their affection towards you and could,, be the one. I'm dead serious about that- but also HEHHEHHEHE💞- oh how I love-love♡),- but I’m mainly seeing a lot of first dates for you guys as you continue to get out there, and that is far from a bad thing because- who wouldn’t want a change at even just one date with you??? (take rejection as non-personal ofc- ppl have free will- and stupidity) and also you get the chance to see how you adapt and interact with new people which is terrific for you!! mannn do I see you getting accepted and taken out by so many people, assholes included but also a lot of “gentlemen”/“babes” who will gladly treat you extremely well and or will be pulling all the charm and fun within them for you- even if they know it’s just one night with you… I’ll just say, you do attract people who want to serve you… on their knees definitely-

AND THAT IS WHERE I WILL LEAVE ITTTTT FOR NOWWW- I’m so so soooo happy to have had you all here todayyyy your life is seriously going to keep going up-up and away if you’ll just allow yourself to see that steady climb and trust it <3 I seriously love youuuu I almost don’t want you to leaveee just like how everyone else feels BAHHA- love you.~

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out is it casual now- two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in Long Beach is it casual now” - “it’s hard being casual when i’m on the phone talking down your sister”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ "This is how to be a heartbreaker- boys they like a little danger" - "singing I lo-lo-love you"

⋆ ˖✮pile 2✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ten of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Pentacles, Nine of Cups, Queen of Cups, Six of Swords (reversed) (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Aquarius/Gemini/Libra placements, Capricorn/earth placements, Mercury dominant, Saturn dominant, 2nd house placements black lace, black on black, cinnamon, The Spice Girls, The Cheeta Girls, H2O, 2000s nostalgia, high school reunions, ex-friendship rebirth, stand up, saturday night bars, life path number 11, angel numbers 1111, 1212, 1313, 1221, channeled songs, Party for One - Carly Rae Jepsen, Heat Waves - Glass Animals

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ You guys are funny- just gonna say it off the bat I’m feeling silly with you rn ngl BAHHAHHAhehe- ok um HI PILE 2S!! I shouldn’t yell- let me not yell- some of you are coming from pile 1,, heyyy pile 1s~ ouw~ ok ok, you smiling could light up a room, a house, a complex, a broken oven. AHAHAH- what beautiful teeth and lips you have there- pile 2s. I’m seeing, so many different teeth and lip shapes before you come for me- straight, crooked, vener-white, “needs-a-cleaning” off-white, upside down smiles, nonsymmetrical dimples, big lips, small lips, uneven lips, scarred lips- you get it, I don’t give a shit. when you smile and give that big cackle, chuckle, chortle- you do what you do with joy- and people believe in jesus. people believe that pigs really do have wings. people believe that the sun must shine from your ass. truly. I mean truly. I’m sitting here with my fingers together like- hm. yes. how do I write this all- with a straight face without being sardonic… sardonic? do you guys read? I think you read. now I’m hearing “you thought you ate that-“ that meme, I know that you know it- let me stop. for-… 5 minutes… so we would probably connect really well- which is why I am all over the place, because you are also all over the place (yes I am shading you. respectfully.) someone here does really good impressions, including animals… whatever that means…- BAHAH, you guys would do great in stand up of some kind, either that or you’re known as the funny co-worker. you guys have this range when it comes to your sense of humor, where it is either very dry, with the most composed pauses (when I manage to do that without bursting into your own laughter), and or you guys are so fast like- the editing of a youtube video fast with the jokes- and or a mixture of the two where you’re able to pull off very intricate jokes very quickly in the moment. and jeeze people find you so charming, even more so because of the way you look as well, it’s almost weirdly uncanny to some people how someone with the level of physical attractiveness that you carry (it’s so heavy and so much I know it’s so hard✨) and you then can pull off such- hilarity. and they're like- “…do they know they could be a model??? like- are they aware?? are they using this comedy because they don’t see that about themselves??”… it’s giving “i didn’t know women could be funny” (goes for nb/men too ofc)…

wow- kill them with a spoon 🥄- anyways WOW. so I think you may have, a lot of perceptions of you by people around you who haven’t known you for very long, mainly revolving around your looks- yes your looks. your modesty is attractive but it won’t fly in this courtroom👩‍⚖️- you are attractive in some way, or have an appearance that people definitely admire- but also scrutinize, or underestimate… you definitely get belittled. ok- that sucks- point them out to me?… yea I thought so they are so ew. I don’t care if that person is your mother, your father, or your co-workers who’ve been working at the place for 5 years longer than you- they are ew. anyone who puts you down due to their own pre-made perception of you is ew. ick even. yea, I’m seeing the issue here is not like most other piles I read for where it’s a growth journey with self and insecurity- no you’re good rn you’re like totally chilling. and I love that because I’m chill now, I’m dipping my tea bag up and down and sitting with you I’m so chill. but I had to look into anything going on because- drama, keeps you reading. so main issue I’m exposing is that there are people around you, in your space, a space you “have” to be in like work or even college classes I’m hearing- most people around you mind their own business, good on them, I love them- other people… they dress you up as something in their mind for their own- amusement?? or to feel a sense of having an eagle eye over “you”- and I say “you” in quotations because wtf- they do this… so as to spice up their own boring life? this is a weird form of admiration, because even if it’s a shitty thing to see you as, with them placing you so strongly in this box- they’ve placed you also on this pedestal… that’s probably why even with this obvious bullshit you’re still just chilling- because you know that if someone has built this all up to be who you are- it means you’re the best. and they’re the lowest. the end. anyway my back hurts- someone here likes podcasts, I’m seeing the The Broski Report podcast (broski nation✊) and also Murder, Mystery, & Makeup- again you guys really just chill, drink a bit of wine and entertain yourself.- so let me move onnn and see what transformations might be gearing up in your social life hun~

ok so it’s not “crickets” happening in your social life, not at all- but again you guys are just so, content and used to yourselves (this is my pile who talks to themselves in the mirror I see you)- when I asked yall if you felt lonely I literally drew a blank. and this is actually perfect because it’s seriously when you’re not looking/expecting and you're all good with what you have that you get given so much- so this is where I’m going to remind you all to actively meditate on keeping yourself open. don’t expect anything, just stay open and ponder what you’d like- and you’ll receive. that’s literally it. you’re in prime manifesting energy with how content and at peace you are in yourself- do you know how much you attract when you do that shit???? remain. open. and. aware. of anything that may happen, even if someone trips in front of you and you gain a brief interaction or someone asks you where to find extra office supplies and you show them the supply closet- see your abundance, allow it, remain without expectations. you are literally in the perfect energy for so much. You guys are definitely the type however to be really fine with only a few close friends you can have some fun with (and or have a nervous breakdown with) and some family… but I think this contentment you have with yourself, might have come from you feeling- misunderstood in your sense of humor or self-expression. I gotta say, you definitely handled that disappointment well, since instead of dulling yourself you just shine more inwardly for your own enjoyment and entertainment- and that’s wonderful! but I do gotta say- I know you can feel a bit, pent up. due to a lot of your big personality being fitted within you, and that’s fantastic truly- but also it has the same effect of being stuck in your house alone for one week too long. maybe that’s why you read when you can- you get to be in a very expansive and wide world that feels different from your own… oh god did I make you yearn???? oops I’m sorry. anyways!!

you’d really thrive in some environment that feels more- “widespread” I suppose, that doesn’t mean cracking yourself open to a room of strangers, I mean just sharing yourself- still from a place of your own entertainment- what I mean is that it’d be really healthy for you to find an outlet for the pent up jitters you get- find it online if you want to try that, try little baby steps, why not?- go on one-time dates just to release a bit of what you keep inside you- interact with random people sitting next to you at bars,- no attachments, just feel out what you feel when you let your inward personality, be more outward- on a lease 🐩. I’m hearing some of you may be a little fearful of attachment even, work that out- that doesn’t mean you’ll then sacrifice your peace, you’ll just gain a wider world for yourself by gaining new connections- and obviously, with the personality and personhood that you have- you can totally just pick and choose who gets to be a part of that world and your time! you owe nothing to anyone. do you have any actual clue how many people are out there, whose perception of you is not just what they observe, but what you actually are? and their perception of you actually helps you and is used to contribute to your happiness and peace??? yea. having actual friends is freaking great. and the more you simply open yourself up to that- while staying aware and choosing who you want- that is going to be the big door that’ll be opened to you- you’ll receive so many amazing experiences and will shift and broaden your world and the worlds of others, you’ll be like a big tree, growing it’s roots around other trees- isn’t that soooo cute??? ok I’m trying to see into the future details in regards to you finding your “tribe”- spirit is honestly wanting things to be vague, so as you can remain open without any expectations. kk? I mean what I mentioned with the earlier situations gives you the clues to follow if you so choose- just be youuuu. you have more opportunities than you realize and you got all the answers to what to do within you. trust me when I say you’ll be running down the street in weird clothes and pearls, scream laughing out of breath with two girls who love you… that’s for someone here and it also applies to everyone here~

okkk pile 2s, it was stimulating being with you I’m nearly sick❤️ BAHAH anyways, in regards to any avoidant/anxious-avoidant attachment issues, just remember that heartbreak sucks, but heartbreak always just makes you hotter, and funnier. you prove that- that outcome is very real every day you exist as yourself… OKKK love you byeee❤️♡

deadass as I channeled this song, I was questioning if it was correct- and I look up to see one of your angel numbers 1212 on the clock- and then again 1221 as I type this lolll

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Once upon a time I thought you wanted me was there no one else to kiss- was it all a dream I let myself believe, I’m not over this, but I’m trying” - “party for one, if you don’t care about me, I’ll just dance with myself, back on my beat- I’ll be the one, if you don’t care about me, making love to myself, back on my beat”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Sometimes all I think about is you- late nights in the middle of June, heat waves been fakin’ me out, can’t make you happier now”

⋆ ˖✮pile 3✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Page of Swords (reversed), Seven of Cups, Six of Cups (reversed), The High Priestess (reversed), The Moon (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio placements, Libra/air placements, Leo/fire Placements, 5th house placements (Venus, Mars, Jupitar, Rising, etc), inner child, old friendships, childhood renewal, 1111, 333, 444, Only Yesterday (1991), horses, channeled songs, Wildflowers and Wild Horses - Lainey Wilson, Cheap Queen - King Princess

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ok- Hi my pile 3s! and also my pile 2s because some of yall did not leave yet and have stayed for the next reading- like seriously this whole pac is connected rn- also happy 1111 as I write this!!! um oh my gosh let me start- you are so beautiful, yes I said it for the 3rd time in this pac post why are you on my ass‼️- its so true, you all have this classic beauty, it is timeless- you are timeless- or from a different time in your aura, your beauty, how you carry yourself in this world- etc etc… and when I say “different time” I don’t just mean you embody this feminine/masculine balance straight out of the 1970s, 40s, 50s, 20s,- and all the other time periods before/after I just mentioned- I also mean you still carry with you the time you had as a young child, you carry with you the sunshine you felt on your skin when you were 3-6 yo, and the snow you felt on your hands when you were 8-11… you have kept this purity and innocence and grown with it- and holy cow do I need to congratulate you and the strength of your spirit- so often we are forced to “leave behind” our childhood years and perspective due to difficult events or what people expect of you while you reside in this worldly- world. -which really that just means internalizing and hiding away in the closet the purest state of yourself (*also this is my more queer-centric pile so hellooo my fellow queer community ✨☀️)- this is putting a hole in my own heart being in how free and high spirited you are, and how you fully embody that and always have ☀️. you have kept that warmed and soaked up the same sunshine as you did all those years ago- it might not even feel like years to you, it feels like only yesterday your childhood was your state of being and all around you- and now, you are a bit bigger but you may live in this state that no time has passed- does that make sense?? ugh dude I hope so, your energy is like the sunshine, in that, I can’t reach out and physically be in your presence- but more so I’m trying to sit in your light while my vision gets spotty and I get a little dizzy… as in- you guys are out of this worlddd💫!!! you might even be told by your family or your peers that you tend to make them “dizzy” with how you communicate- you may be the type to jump from one topic to another, while you fold your laundry- and tidy your desk drawers- and walk into another room *backward* because you are still talking and describing a detail that is “important” to the story you were recounting 10 minutes ago- you sweet thing!!!! this is adorable to be in,, if anyone’s ever made you feel bad about how you communicate, do not take it personally- its always good karma to be considerate of other’s sensitivities, but everything you do is so pure hearted- it would be so phony and ridiculous to believe any crap people say about you to be truthful. your energy is so pure and truly yours, this is your sign and confirmation to continue to not live for the external views of others and live life through your own view ☀️. Oh- i keep getting horse imagery- horses may be significant for some of you, it may be your spirit animal or a spirit guide that is close to you may take the energetic appearance of a horse (in particular for some of you it’s a very strong and matured brown colored horse of some breed), or some of you grew up around horses in some way!

Oh this is random but you may be the type to enjoy having your playlists on shuffle lol- because I just suddenly began mentally playing Cheap Queen by King Princess- so this is definitely where I will now channel the dets about your social environment my dear~!! ok sooo- I’m seeing various different types of family dymanics, big families, med sized families, even 2 person families (you + a guardian)- I sense that you have close family ties, and i know family can be complex, so let me state some variouions of what that means- you may have a close familiarity to your family’s home or yard (maybe even your neighborhood area), such as knowing every little creak that your house makes when you go to the kitchen to get a morning cup of water, I’m seeing for some of you- you are very tied to your sibling dymamic if you have siblings (I accidently wrote in all caps at first and I scared myself lol- so you may come from a family where loudness is common part of the jokes you share), or maybe even kids you knew in your neighborhood if you played with them often- things like that have stuck with you inrelation to what you look for in anykind of companionship, a sense of familiarity~ this is def the pile who believes in being drawn to your soulmate(s) or past life connections lol~ so while you have that grounded energy in wanting stablity, you also are an entertainer and you know how to have a good time!! as you should since you totally fly like a fabulous canary from room to room- you should feel more confident when you dance btw, put more energy into your shoulders with joy because the way you move literally energizes people-

now I’m getting messages on how you connect to your inner child, I’ve said before you already naturally embody your inner child (“just in a bigger body” I’m hearing- some of you may have had a big physical growth spirut as a child btw), but some messages in regards to connecting to your inner child for those of you who need some answers is to engage in more activities that return yourself to a past peaceful enviroment, this is also for those who had a more chaotic upbringing and had to turn inwardly for peace ❤️- taste is a really important sense for you returning to that younger state of peace, so certain candies (I’m hearing those fruit rollups I love those still) or fruits, snacks- simple dishes that made younger you excited and brought you joy- also I’m hearing something about sleepovers and evening activities/coziness~ so grab some blankets and make an event of staying up late if you already do that lol- anyways!! let me get back to how fun you truly are to be around my dear, I mean, seriously! If you have the opportunity go out when you can, if you already have a friend or someone familiar go to a house party nearby (keep yourselves safe!), try rollerskating if you haven’t, and get closer to someone you already know and show your colors- DRESS UP!!!! I know life can be bleak especially when you feel that life is very "closed off" and dead lol- but when I tell you the phrase “dress for the life you want”- I mean ittt~ it will align you with the environment that you desire and it will come to you so naturally (in the same way you making a coffee and taking your dog for a walk is a natural occurrence in your life!)- I’m hearing that the connections that you already have in your life are “all you need”, and by that I mean you can build off of those and shoot farther into the sky full of stars meant for you 💫. I’m hearing the quote about drawing back your arrow before you can shoot forward- if you’re feeling stuck right now, this is what I’m trying to tell you, blossom exactly where you are right now, and everything else will simply follow!!! and I know that takes courage but I KNOW you have it because it was child you’s courage that got you to this future you are currently in~ and when you start to embody their courage along with their light, I know it will be the turning point to creating the life you were always dreaming and painting in your mind~ I’m seeing bright neon lights, holding hands and toothy-laughing grins, your clothes looking exactly how you pictured months ago- this is what I see happening in the future!! please stay open to some of the connections you already have- renew them is what I’m hearing (but please follow your intuition, if you need to cut everyone except for one or two true connections then that is the right thing for you to do)- if these are people who you knew when you were a lot younger then bond on the older times and use that energy to renew into more new memories,- these older connections you have you could definitely collaborate with to mutually make new connections and go towards new experiences- I’m hearing maybe even to “get out of this town”... phew pile 3!!!! what a way to end this pac, so happy to have met you and I feel like I took a nap in the sun- I’m really on some hazy ish rn lolll but I really hope I was helpful in any questions or worries on your beautiful mind~ I LOVE YOUUU so much, you better keep on shining- even if that’s just in front of your mirror, that’s perfect and valid ☀️👏

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I'm five generations of blazin' a trail- through barb-wired valleys and overgrown dells- I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails” - “I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks” - “yeah, my kinda crazy's still runnin' its courses with wildflowers and wild horses”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I've been alright, I’ve just been doing the same shit I've always liked- like smoking and movies and homies who bring me wine” - “-all of my girls get up early and stay out late- they drive all the way to the west side to see my face- that's good love- and I ain't no big baller when it's fake friends you're callin’”

⋆ ˖

✮

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️am I actually going to (*schedule to*) post this omg it feels like forever since i did this.. where was i even? whatever- its whatever- holy shit I'm putting myself out there!!!! praise be!!!! omg I'm going to get one extra hour of sleep as a treat🍰

love, vi~♡

[violetmuses]

Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴❤️‍🩹🫂

Title: Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴 ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas leaves Mexico and faces Miami again, you change his life.

@nelo0wesker @nobodygetsza @yeahnohoneybye @sofia-da-1st @spaceacelover @btitannaaaaa

=====

Safety Net: Chapter 1

2024

The quiet departure from Mexico took so much planning, but Armando Aretas returned to Miami at last. Hiding would just stall reality this time.

His biological father, well-known Detective Mike Lowrey, pulled strings and “eased” the lifetime sentence, but Armando just needed more.

Waiting around between missions seemed pointless. If not useful, Armando might as well go back to prison and lock that damn cell forever.

Taking one rental car back to the small apartment from Lowrey, Armando didn't contact his father right away and took this much-needed shower before organizing just a few belongings here.

“I'm back.” Armando called Lowrey by the early afternoon.

“Hey, man. Really? Do you want me to pick you up from the airport?” Mike was a little surprised while answering the phone.

“Nah. Already settled here, but I'm just telling you.” Armando cleared his throat awkwardly

“You found the house? Cool. Glad you called me, too. Need anything?” Even Mike clipped words at this point.

“Maybe a side hustle?” Armando tried to frame the question easily. “I don't wanna stay around if you'll just call for work.”

“Right, I didn't think of that idea. My bad.” Mike almost whispered. “Let's see if I can help out a little bit.”

“Yeah, bye.” Armando hung up and left once more, hoping to run errands.

____

Many ran straight to the grocery store for various reasons, but Armando didn't need much, unlike other folks with children and more vacation plans.

Leaving the self-checkout, warm sunlight hit the parking lot as Armando reached that car and settled items, but one person caught his eye.

One door opens from another storefront in the shopping center.

“Thank you so much!” You beamed toward restaurant staff while carrying takeout and kept walking in the direction of your own vehicle.

To Armando, you looked cute and raved as sunlight heats up the state of Florida.

Though watching you from a distance, Armando found himself smiling in return, but pulled together and drove away, simply refusing to act weird.

Who are you? Aretas ponders during the commute back.

_____

Cooking and eating alone, gentle music played from his Bluetooth speaker. The device stood as his most expensive item beyond weapons or gear.

One call interrupted washing the dishes, but Armando picked up regardless.

“Hello?” Armando greeted the caller.

“Hey, it's me. Got something. Do you mind if we meet early tomorrow?” Mike Lowrey picked up this call again.

“No. What's going on?” The day would have Aretas occupied.

“This barbershop owner needs help.” Mike explained. “You'll get paid for basic upkeep over there. Nothing fancy.”

“Doesn't sound terrible.” Armando grounded his plans for the morning.

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.” Mike ended the call this time.

Better than nothing. Armando thought, sleeping without dreams in preparation.

_____

“What's up?” Cruising with style, Mike Lowrey arrived while driving his classic Porsche the next day and greeted Aretas in this lot. “We'll meet that owner first.”

“Cool.” Armando repeated the note of his estranged father.

“How was your flight?” Mike tried offering small talk.

“Good. Still getting used to the house.” Armando told the truth.

“You'll be fine.” Mike went on. “My first place wasn't always dope.”

“Wait. Didn't you grow up with money?” Aretas squinted near his father. “That's what Marcus told me.”

“Well, yeah, but your mother knocked out riches. I stood undercover and worked as her driver before you were born.” Mike cleared his throat. “Let's go.”

____

“Morning, Detective.” The barbershop owner spoke up while addressing Mike Lowrey.

“Morning, Sir.” Mike offered respect to the older gentleman. “We shared our phone calls earlier, but this is my son Armando.”

“Hello.” Genuinely kind while speaking English, Aretas offered to shake hands with the owner right now.

“Heard about you, but we don’t have much time for questions. Let me show you around.” The older man continued speaking. Even Mike Lowrey stepped back, letting this moment between two different people for once.

Let him grow and learn. That’s the only way out of this problem. Lowrey thought, quietly watching his son understand this new environment.

_____

For Armando, three important rules grounded his place at the barbershop:

Aretas needed to show up every day now, arrive on time, and avoid drama. Constant structure keeps this guy from trouble in the first place.

Clients for the barbershop varied all week and Armando would remain observant every time someone opened that chiming front door.

Sooner than later, staff knew his name and everyone laughed sometimes, offering Aretas this comradery that didn't include heartbreak.

“Have you met Mike's partner yet?” One employee chuckled while cleaning his station.

“Marcus?” Sweeping, Armando immediately rolled his eyes and workers cracked up about Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike Lowrey's famous partner.

“Oh, no! Tell us.” The employee settled down and resumed working.

“I joined special operations at the police department, but this barbershop thing is a temporary job.” Armando played up his role a little bit. “One time, Marcus accidentally set our car on fire.”

“Woah!” Voices gasped through shock and even the owner tuned in.

“Marcus didn't know that windshield wiper fluid is flammable, so we jumped out right before everything burst into flames.” Aretas nearly cringed.

“Damn!” This story just pulled everyone's attention.

“We made it out alive, but moments like that really happen.” Armando shook his head and still cleaned when the front door chimed again.

“Hi! How's everybody doing?” One greeting brightened up the entire space. “I'm just here to bring Dad some lunch.”

You walked toward that barbershop owner with the biggest smile on your face, carrying takeout.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Thank you.” The owner gently raved while facing you, his daughter.

[enden-agolor]

I LOOOVE all of your aus, especially forest deity and sdv!! The way you designed both Lukas and Jesse in each AU you have is amazing, I absolutely admire the attention to detail and such :) Something about your au’s have me absolutely hooked, and I’m not complaining. Keep up the great work, Enden!! you don’t know how obsessed I am with your silly stories of stupid little minecraft blocks… 🙏

Also a jesskas forest deity AU is so cool. I don’t have any idea how you were able to come up with something as interesting as it, and the way you planned out the story was amazing as well! I always wonder if Jesse will actually show his normal form to Lukas (since you mentioned he was able to revert to his normal self but the town still wouldn’t accept him either way iirc) but we’ll have to see it for ourselves. I lovelovelovee your work so much and I’m excited for future au content !!

Dude thank you so much 🥺

I love designing characters and for some reason Lukas and Jesse are just so fun to play around with in regards to their designs. Maybe it's because their canon designs are so simple, yet compliment each other so well, like Lukas' magenta stripes alongside Jesse's green suspenders. Then the rest of their pallet is pretty natural colors. I really like to keep their designs simple when drawing them. I try to imagine, would they actually wear this? Does this color fit his style? I like to keep them in pretty casual clothes you would see when passing someone out in public, or when shopping at a nice clothes store. This definitely goes for the sdv au.

In forest deity au, Lukas maintains a professional look. Outfits that you would see and think, "oh this guy means business", because he's an author, so he wants to dress the role. He wears a lot of warm, darker colors. Nothing too bright and flashy that would make him stand out. He's the kind of guy who dresses like he's always going to work. Jesse, on the other hand, he wears a lot of dark colors with purpose, as a means of fitting in with the darkness that shrouds the forest he lives in. He wears a lot of dark leather gear to keep his body protected. He's always pretty dirty, because well, he lives out there alone and has no means of impressing anyone with appearances, so why bother? The only one who seems to be intrigued in his appearance is Lukas.

On that other note, we came up with the au kind of randomly. My bf and I like to throw ideas at each other, and since we were already invested in the normal Admin au, I remember jokingly playing into this idea of Admin Jesse being this big bad wolf kind of role and Lukas being a little red riding hood. Discovering each other in the woods for the first time, except we kind of built this story over time and I started making the designs and I was like. Fuck. Jesse is big, scary, mute, and in love with this little blond freak that won't leave him alone 🧍I am OBSESSED with that. But yeah that's basically how it happened and now the lore has gotten pretty intense. The story is full of angst and plot built off of canon. A very hurt/comfort slow burn kind of story.

But anyways I'm so excited to share more. Your questions will be answered eventually. Trust me, I wish I could answer them, but with plot and context it will be so, so much more satisfactory. So stay tuned, and thanks again for this ask, I love seeing everyones little thoughts on this au!

[muekyn]

summer character ref!

i realized i never made a character ref for my self insert/oc so here it is <3 she’s a part of the aot universe :3

more information about them under the read more, if you're interested! (it's long i am SORRY)

summary: born in the shiganshina district and part of the 104th cadet corps. they join the survey corps, and ultimately become a part of the special operations squad (squad levi). with a bit of naivety to them, they start off very hopeful for the future of paradis.

as she joins the survey corps, she is in charge of creating maps used for formations and battle strategies. there are also times where she helps in designing equipment, such as the executioner from hell (that large log device used to kill titans) and the new odm gear.

unfortunately, the pressure of dealing with titans on a regular basis, as well as the stressors from her personal life, start to plant a seed of uncertainty in her.

after sasha’s death, she loses a lot of meaningful connections with her friends. she begins to isolate herself and displays behaviors that are abnormal for her, such as excessive fear and panic.

additionally, she loses her ability to maintain a healthy day to day life. no one knows what’s going on- she’s met with resistance towards her “odd” behaviors.

it all becomes too much. since she's unable to “quit”, she runs away, living beyond the walls in a small cabin. she spends her days maintaining her land and learning how to become a fishmonger. her mental health improves slightly, but never really recovers.

occasionally they make trips into marley to sell their fish, forging documents that allow them into the nation. human interaction for them becomes far and few in between, usually only when they visit marley.

her visits to marley really open her eyes; seeing the worst of society. all the blame that’s put on her people, all the injustice, the misinformation.

at first, she takes a neutral stance on the rumbling. ultimately though, she realizes that the rumbling is inhumane and needs to be stopped, so she helps out in the end. she doesn’t fight directly, rather provides support on falco’s jaw titan with levi and gabi.

combat/skills: truthfully, she is not an expert in using her odm gear, being one of the lowest performing students in her cadet days. for some reason, she is unable to get the complexities of the odm gear down, but manages well enough not to get chomped up.

for summer, she is relied upon more for her ability to create diagrams and maps that the survey corps would use, mainly for battle tactics and navigation. she was in charge of making maps for different squads, spending long nights carefully curating each drawing.

personality: summer has an innate curiosity and unique appreciation for the world. she feels a deep connection to nature, the stars, and the moon. she can also be very creative and has a profound love for art, especially paintings and sculptures.

when it comes to interacting with others, she is very shy and withdrawn, opting to avoid individuals rather than approach them. unfortunately, she doesn’t trust easily, making it hard for her to form deep connections with others. nonetheless, she tries her best to be respectful and understanding.

she wants to be an optimist, but has had her hope taken many times, leading her to become increasingly pessimistic as time goes on. her world view can be very negative at times, especially during her visits to marley. but through it all, her love for the world never dissipates. to her, there is always something to find joy in.

appearance: her features are very round and soft. her eyes are an amber color, while her hair is an orange/redhead color. it’s styled to be in a wavy bob with bangs on the left side of her face. 

summer is short in stature, no more than 5 feet tall. she has a very flat/emotionless expression most of the time, even when expressing intense emotion. she also has a hard time maintaining eye contact.

relationships: romantically involved with eren. they have known each other since they were children. as kids, they argued a lot, since summer and eren had similar personalities- the two of them being hotheads. 

however, as they get older, their passion for the world brings them together. summer has a slight crush on eren during her cadet days, silently pining over him for years. after many awkward smiles and shy glances, eren drunkenly admits his feelings to summer at the party in marley, leading them to start dating. 

while summer is living in the cabin, she doesn’t see eren much. when eren becomes a wanted man, he randomly surprises summer with visits that can last a few days. unfortunately he can’t stay for long, otherwise he risks the livelihood of both of them. the two of them simply appreciate the time they have together.

when eren starts the rumbling, they are still together, but summer completely disapproves of his actions, leaving their relationship in limbo (not that it’s that important at that point anyway.) she eventually decides she can’t let him go on with the rumbling and aids in his death.

best friends with sasha. they met in the 104th cadet corps, and instantly became friends after sasha’s potato mishap. sasha and summer’s personalities mesh together perfectly. they stay close friends until sasha’s death, which becomes one of the breaking points for summer.

friends with jean and connie. she’s not as close to them as she is with sasha, but she trusts them greatly and gets along with them very well. connie, sasha, and summer goof off a lot, while jean has to scramble to get everybody back on track. ultimately, the four of them have a solid bond.

aquaintances with mikasa and armin. despite interacting with them since she was a child, she doesn’t know them extremely well. but she gets along with them just fine. she appreciates the level of care they have for eren.

mentored by levi. the two of them have a unique level of trust with each other. levi is familiar with summer’s outbursts and panics, and is able to calm her down alot, especially during battle. summer deeply trusts levi and looks to him for advice and navigating through life. a few sarcastic remarks from levi is all summer needs to push herself forward, or see things from a new perspective.

likes: mystery, thinking deeply, art, the moon and stars.

dislikes: loud noises, being alone, mirrors, and eye contact.

[moononmyfloor]

My Year End C-drama Review (2023)

Part 1

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17. Actors I newly discovered in 2023

Hong Yao, Wang Yinglu, Marcus Li, Tian Jiarui, Qin Hailu, Wang Ke

Some of these are new actors, some are already very experienced but I discovered only now. All of them provided phenomenal performances in their roles this year.

.

18. Favorite Child Actors of the Year

Wang Haoze (Ou Zimo- Be Your Own Light), Phoebe Sun Yichen (Duoduo- Stay With Me)

Child actors in C-ent always baffle me, I have zero idea how they are SO good. Impeccable performance. I want to take them home. 🥺

.

19. Feminist Cdramas of the year

Be Your Own Light, A Journey to Love

The premise of the first is about women to begin with, the second only partially. Most of the time the self-identifying feminist stories fail massively in realistic depiction of women, let alone idol dramas where the focus is elsewhere.

But these two shows really understood what women think and say, their priorities and what they want in life, how they conduct themselves....and not through the eyes of men who assume women crave xyz things only. The arcs and growths of women in these two shows felt very organic and relatable.

(I hear there were few other such dramas this year as well, eg: Faithful. But this is all I managed to watch huhu)

.

20. A drama that let me down

Destined

The chemistry of the real-life pair Bai Jingting and Song Yi was adorable, but the story just wasn't my cup of tea.

I absolutely loved their spacious bedroom tho!

.

21. Favorite BGM

Be Your Own Light- I Only Wish to Face the Light by Liu Yuning

Stay with Me- Stars Shine by Zhang Jiongmin, Xu Bin

I Am Nobody- Sea of Time by Zhou Shen

Young Blood 2- Lending a Ray of Light by WineQ (圈9)

Romance On the Farm- Letters from Spring by Su Yunying

Silence of the Monster- Cross a City Just to See You by Huang Yi

.

22. Favorite wardrobes

Sui Yi (Sun Yihan)'s wardrobe in Silence of the Monster and Pang Hongmei (Peng Xiaoran)'s fits in Unshakable Faith

Oh they looked so delightfully vintage and exactly my style! 😍

.

23. Best Breakups

Moxi and Jiagui (Gone With the Rain), Xiangyi and Wanmian (Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

I HAD to include this category simply because of these two pairs. I LOVED those two scenes. So mature! Such thorough discussion about how their feelings have changed over time, the frank admission that there are indeed some remnants left (because contrary to popular depiction, feelings don't POOF overnight), how they'd always consider the other as a special someone that they were lucky to have met in their lives, the wish to remain as tight friends in the future as well.... 🤌🤌🤌👏👏👏

.

24. Worst character designs

Road Home

Gods know I only sat through this for Jing Boran in army gear and snow. The characters were so mind-blowingly flat despite the actors giving their best to "understand" their roles and make them relatable but there was only so much they could do. All the interpersonal relationships happened just because the writer said so. There was a child character who was passed from hand to hand for whenever the writer wanted a "warm childcaring and family moment" but was discarded without a glance the next second, I got second-hand abandonment issues from watching that lonely kid. I did not understand why anyone was doing anything at any given moment.

.

25. Most convincing villains aka characters I loved to hate

Yuan Hao (Young Blood 2)- Gotta be one of the most dangerous villains I have ever seen. He was insanely smart, unpredictable and cunning AND strong, and it took all the heroes of the story to defeat him and still it was barely enough. He was so well written and portrayed, till the very end of the show the viewers weren't sure of the outcome of the battle.

Jiao Liqiao (Mysterious Lotus Casebook)- AHH Jiao jie! We all love a good unhinged female villain who isn't uwufied in the name of some weird "women should always be portrayed with tearjerking backstory" notion. Let her go crazy all over the place, we support women's wrongs as well as rights! She always meant what she said and did what she meant and it was terrifying to see.

.

26. Favorite murder kittens of the year

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You), Li Tongguang (A Journey to Love)

Oh these two bois were VERY disturbing individuals and I wouldn't go within 1 mile radius around them but were them such delightful affection starved meow meows with killer (ha!) hair and eye acting? Heck yes.

.

27. A drama that I wished was longer

Romance On the Farm

I really appreciate how 3D and empathetically portrayed all the family members are. We are shown all their sides and what made them what they are today without making a mockery of Asian family values, but rather constructively analysing + celebrating the good parts.

And then there is a political thriller story arc.

And then there is "this is all but a game" part which I had to try very hard to pretend like it's ignorable.

And then there was the basic premiere of the pastoral country life story.

Clearly the dramamakers had LOTS of ideas. And you can see none of them were empty bite-more-than-can-chews but had actual potential.

If only.... it didn't try to do all this at once under the guise of a 26 ep lighthearted fluffy romcom genre.... it would've made such a difference.

.

28. A drama I wanted to watch but couldn't

SO many! For all sorts of reasons.

Ray of Light, Butterflied Lover, The Road to Ordinary, Pledge of Allegiance, Where Dreams Begin, There Will Be Ample Time, Faithful, Stand By Me

ARGH!😭

.

29. A drama I wish more people watched

Stay With Me

This is a Chinese BL, with Chinese cast, Chinese locations, but produced by a TW company. That's all I'm going to say about it, give it a try. You won't regret it. (Maybe don't watch last episode tho lol)

.

30. Most favorite Cdrama of 2023

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Why? Because... well if you are in the fandom you'd know, if you aren't... I can write ESSAYS about it so I won't 😂 In short, it was such a healing watch.

.

31. A Cdrama I'm excited to see in 2024

JOL 2. Obviously.

.

Conclusion

2023 served to solidify my belief that there's really no 'perfect' drama, what I can do is listening to the stories people have to share and then take what I want from them, and leave what I don't want behind. Some may resonate more with me, some less. Some may teach me new things, some may feel redundant. Sometimes you will enjoy only 50% of a drama and hate the rest, but that won't diminish the impact that 50% had on you. It could be a totally different experience for another viewer and that's fine. I watched all the DMBJ shows this year as well (but didn't speak about them in this list since my focus was on 2023) and it really was an exercise on not being overly critical and going with the flow or you would totally miss out on all the good things DMBJ had to bring.

Overall I enjoyed 2023 Cdramaland a lot. I hope this review helped some of you to try out dramas that you didn't know existed/were hesitant to press play or continue on!

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More Posts by Me

[thlayli-ra]

OKAYYY i see your punknightintyre (i cannot spell.) post and i ask you. your opinions on la knight/roman reigns. i saw your art and lost my marbles but i wanna know your thoughts on it!! love your blog you are a Big Freak (meant positively) 🫶

Hooooooo boy! These two...

This isn't so much a conspiracy theory as it is a head cannon, one that's very much based in how I write them both in my fics.

So Knight is a loner. He's been on the roster for nearly two years and hasn't made a single friend or long-term ally. Because... he's a bit of a dick. He's brash, he's loud and he's self-centred. When he was being constantly attacked - and even abducted! - by Bray Wyatt/Uncle Howdy, not a single soul came to his aid. Past alliances have been short-lived (Rick Boogs), shaky truces (Randy Orton) or ended in disaster (AJ Styles). Even the other babyfaces just kinda... put up with him. I mean, look at his awkward arse at Wrestlemania 40 after Cody's win;

He deserves to be there because he was a player in the fight against The Bloodline, but he has no real ties to Cody. Maybe they each ran in for a save once, but that's really it. He sticks out like a sore thumb. (Hmmm, maybe that's why Punk is trying to get into his good graces. Punk likes loners, he likes to recruit them... but that's for another day.)

As for what Roman thinks about Knight?

As he says in my Winner's Room fic (which I really need to finish!);

"You've come a long way up the ladder in a very short period of time, I'll give you that. But don't let the dizzying heights get to your head. You don't belong here... you're not a main event player, hell, you aint even a midcarder. You're a bottom feeder! And now I've let you touch your toe onto the Island of Relevancy, I'mma throw you back into the depths of obscurity you came from."

To Roman, Knight is a pet, a plaything, a stray dog he can kick. He's something he can use and abuse without consequences. Nobody is going to run out and avenge Knight, because Knight has nobody! He's a free pass.

But he also gets right under Roman's skin!

To have this guy who came out of nowhere, who Roman considers so far beneath him he's barely worth his time, treat him with such blatant disrespect and embarrass him publicly is unforgivable. To make things worse, Knight is a human cockroach and no matter how badly he gets beaten down, he can not be defeated. There's a reason he has 'Defiant One' sewn onto his gear and he proves it, getting back up and getting back in Roman's face time and time again.

But it's more than that. Knight has something that Roman has always desperately wanted and yet never possessed?

The crowd!

Back in the Shield, Roman was arguably the least beloved of the three. As top babyface of the company, he was polarising, if not despised by the majority of the WWE Universe. The only way he could get them to love him was by becoming the villain they all imagined him to be.

So to see Knight inspire such devotion from the fans with a few cheesy catchphrases grates on him.

But deep down, if Roman was brave enough to admit it; he actually likes Knight. At least, as an opponent. He likes that they have no history, no prior relationship. There's nothing messy and Knight treats him no differently from any other man he's faced in the ring. Their feud is just about two wrestlers fighting for a shiny prize.

My latest artwork of them both features them in a 'winner's room' scenario after their Crown Jewel bout. Despite Knight being on the receiving end of a gruelling punishment, the scene has worn them both down. Roman is on his knees, as flushed and sweaty as his sub and smiling. Knight took his punishment well and allowed Roman to unleash his violent side and now he can be his true self. His gentler self that he can never be in front of the cameras, not when he's the Tribal Chief. Knight is in for the after-care of his life!

Because, at the end of the day, what does it matter if he shows his vulnerabilities to Knight? Not like he can go tell anybody?

Hmm..... Or maybe you're right Anon, and I am just a Big Freak! 🤣🤣🤣

[thatanimewriter]

GUARDED.

➳ request: May I please request headcanons for the Style Five falling in love with a snarky woman who's cynical about love and relationships due to being betrayed and abandoned?

➳ character/s: nanase haruka, tachibana makoto, hazuki nagisa, ryugazaki rei, matsuoka rin

➳ warnings: swearing, anxiety/panic attacks (rin)

➳ notes: MMMMMMMMM some lovely self projection for me-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

──  𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐀.

honestly, kinda same-

he’s not usually interested in much ROMANCE either

because he’s aloof and unaware

for a while, he thought you guys were on the same page

it was chill, easy to get along

and then the topic of romance came up one time cause nagisa asked

an inward :(( when you said you thought they were a waste of time and that your partner will inevitably leave you, so don’t bother trying

also an inward “who hurt you???”

tried to get closer to you to figure it out 

it does work, because you thought he was similar in thinking 

but he failed to account for the fact that he’d fall in love with you while getting to know you-

so... he’s in a lil bit of a predicament

any advances he thought about making, he just assumed you’d shut him down

but if he didn’t make any moves, then he was worried you thought he didn’t care about you

so how does he find the middle ground???

started with smiles, which you found to be incredibly bonding, because bitch doesn’t smile around anyone else other than makoto

and when he told you he felt free around you

you just knew what he meant

to his surprise, you accepted (after years of friendship) and his weird cryptic way of saying “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU >:((” worked

the happiest you’ve ever seen him in your life

but honestly, it’s the happiest he’s ever seen you and he wanted to take a photo to keep forever

──  𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐎.

i can fix themmm

he wouldn’t say it like that

but his motive is genuinely the whole ‘they deserve love, i’ll show them love’

he noticed you were kinda icky with love

and he thought it was just the usual sorta “love is gross, i’d rather die alone” type of thing

but then he slowly started figuring out that there was another reason

and he felt the intense urge to try to show you that not everyone will rip your heart out if you date them

it was normal for makoto to be sweet, but you were kinda weirded out when he didn’t stop after a week

people aren’t like this, at least the people you’ve been with aren’t

you warmed up to him eventually because you realised makoto had not a single bad bone in his body

and the first time you smiled at him for real, he was a goner

soul has left the building because it just suits you so much, it’s cute ;v;

he continued to act normal because you’d only just gotten used to him being nice

and he wanted to gradually get you used to being cared for, because only then did he think he could confess and you would take it seriously

when you found that out, you were very shocked, but also it was touching

you asked him why it took so long if it’d been years of pining and then just stood in silence by his answer

he could see the gears turning in your head and he was a bit worried you’d reject him

but you gently took his hand in yours awkwardly

because a healthy relationship is new and super foreign to you

but it’s ok

he’ll wait for you no matter what :))

──  𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐀.

he doesn’t realise

he’s oblivious to this fact

he just knows he wants to give you all his love

and he never took your initial rejection to heart

because haru’s like that too

until he saw you practically death staring this couple across the yard

and he asked about it because he has no filter

gave you a big hug when you said somethin really negative about love and relationships

probably cried for you

that probably gave you a bit of a wake up call because no ex of yours had felt that much empathy in their lives

you got closer after that because that sure was a way to show that someone cared-

and nagisa is a very touchy person, so he inevitably got you used to the feeling of being loved again by total accident

he never showed it

but he was nervous to confess to you in case you’d rope him in with your ex or exes

he wanted you to know he was there for you and he wasn’t going to leave any time soon

but his impulse control is so small he ended up blurting it out anyway

you looked at him like ._.

and he just stared back like :))

he reached into his bag and gave you a little plushie that you knew he had that you’d said you really liked

and that was when you knew he was serious serious because he GAVE YOU HIS PLUSHIE???

also you have no clue how nagisa managed to get into your life so much, but you wouldn’t take it back for anything

──  𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐈.

love is INCOMPREHENSIBLE to him

so while you’re closed off

he’s just having his first ever crush and he doesn’t know what to do-

of course he picked up on the fact you werent a fan of romance

but he thought it was more of an “i don’t need to see y’all make out in front of me” 

and less of a “relationships are nothing but pain and misery.”

awkward blinking

because he’s had absolutely no romantic involvement with anyone, and now he’s got a bit of a challenge

mission: make you believe in love again while also try to figure it out for himself has begun

anddddddd

he’s confused

your colder opinions of love really struck something in him for whatever reason

a lot of it in a way helped him realise that you’d been majorly hurt before

and he knew he wasn’t the most romantic person, so a lot of research had to be done to make you understand his feelings were genuine

it didn’t go the way he wanted to though

he borrowed books from the library about romance

they were very clinical, but the thought was there

and then you caught him reading them and you were about to ask what they were for until you saw one about abusive and toxic relationships

and you knew what they were for, or rather, who they were for

rei was very embarrassed and was going to ask if you would accept his feelings, but you quickly pecked his cheek and promptly ran away

guess he got his answer (he was smiling like a madman the rest of the day)

──  𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐎𝐊𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐍.

well suck it up, i guess

that’s not gonna stop him

he’ll continue to shove himself where he doesn’t belong until he inadvertently belongs 

found your thoughts about romance really weird

because as much as he’s such an edgelord, he’s a hopeless romantic

he wants to fall in love, do cutesy things like stargaze on the roof of his house, cuddle

because lord knows he needs the cuddles

so he just gave you cuddles to maybe make you feel better about romance

which was an odd move considering you weren’t dating and weren’t even on first name basis

and he wasn’t shocked at your negative reaction to the affection

but at the same time he was like >:(((( at the person or people who made you like this

and he also felt the intense need to be the one who would prove you wrong

this was now a COMPETITION

he was gonna fucking DESTROY your ex or exes (metaphorically) 

and he was gonna be the one to show you what love actually is

he had planned a massive thing to confess to you, but guess what the bitch did when you got there

he cried.

bawled his eyes out while telling you everything he loves about you and everything he feels about you

it was funny in hindsight, but you also cried because you just weren’t expecting the honesty

you gave him a hug first after he finished

and that’s how you got roped into a cuddling session on the school lawns-

[g-xix]

does anyone else feel like a lot of youtubers are pivoting in making content that is way overproduced, just because they think its the more "serious"/"respectable" way to do youtube? kinda like mr beastification?

i dont mean overproduced as in putting a lot of effort (eg: chrismds videos are so much better now he has help organising/editing), but overproduced as in sterile and formulaic. i think sidemen are very aware of their fanbase preferring more simple concepts (eg holidays, personality based stuff) rather than the elaborate stuff so theyve stripped back the main channel concepts to make it more fun (but still doing the videos that go viral from non-sidemen fans watching from recommended), but some channels are doing the overproduced thing and its just boring to watch (willne's main channel, YAWN!!! callux for the past few years, i stopped watching betasquad bc it became so dull w only a few good moments sometimes)

sorry for the rant

hey bae, nws for ranting, love a good opinion

YES OMDS MR BEASTIFICATION! I never rly watched MrBeast so i was a bit confused when someone referenced that when i explained the sidemenification concept.... good to see they're the same concept regarding a similar shift in content on YouTube from homely and comforting "chill" style videos to (as you've said) overproduced vids which causes for added pressure making the atmosphere within these vids more serious and a less enjoyable watch

I'm not sure how much the Sidemen really understand the want for chill vids though, because they 100% started the year off with 2 MASSIVE shoots, and i haven't watched many of their other vids (tryna consume this recent sdmn sunday but fuck me i've been tired recently...)

And i lowkey highkey get you about Beta Squad falling down this trap of "big production = better value", my only disagreement here is that I think Will's high-budget videos are actually really well done, because regardless of the shoot quality he always brings the personality to back it up - like, the first "overproduced" vid of his that i can think of is the one he did w Mikey in Vietnam, and even my Dad loved watching that one

And strangely, thuogh everyone seems to hate Callux a bit, i think I really like Lux... Not because his contents good (tbh his content is stinky) but bc i feel like he went through a rapid mental decline and he's on that self-care grind whereby he's now trying to get back to a place of mental normality... And i hope he's managing, too. I like watching his videos and seeing that mental gearing and just how he reacts in certain situations - so whilst i can agree that his formulaic vids are forsure boring - i must say that i'll still always watch his crap <3

[idontknowanametouse]

Straw hats enbys (Law is here btw. Don't question it)

Tw: mentions of abuse and the trauma that comes with it

Luffy

Autistic and non-verbal. Communicates mostly through sign language, but also does other stuff so more people understand him (this headcanon is originally made by @sailing-ever-west, all credits go to them). Shouts a lot, hyposensitive to most stims, absolutely no social cues get to his head, stimming in every way possible, big autism eyes, special interest in beetles and sonic ("it doesn't exist in one piece universe-" ssh shsh shhh) does not get sarcasm or lies at all, needs a caregiver to help him on day to day life, spends a lot of energy in simple tasks, has meltdowns that include self harm when emotionally overloaded (like in Sabaody and after Marineford).

Has ADHD, due to it has a really hard time when learning new stuff that are complex. Needs to have some medicine from Chopper so he is able to function without running or drifting away on his thoughts, as it is very severe and affects much his life (I don't know much about specific symptoms of ADHD, please forgive me)

Smaller than you'd think for a 17 years old, so people think he is younger due to his complexion and baby face. Has lots of scars, from childhood and pirate years. His skin is dark and black hair is always messy.

The absolute nonbinary (agender, but he doesn't care about that) and aroace icon, an AAAAA battery (autism, adhd, agender, asexual, aromantic). Romance? Sex? Gender? What's that? Never heard of it, can you eat those? He loves his crew! And he is Luffy! Although he got used to he/him, absolutely does not care about which pronouns you use for him.

So thin people could think he does not eat enough, but that's only because he is always running through the ship and spending A LOT of energy, so the amount of food he eats does not show off on his body type.

Favorite colors are red and white, this last one cause of gear 5 (it looks like freedom).

Makes a lot of noises, and has one specific for each nakama. They just know which is who, that way, he can call them without anyone else noticing. Also, when he doesn't like someone, just stops trying to talk and goes screaming towards them, which is a little terrifying to see.

Sometimes, after Wano, he can hear Nika. He told the crew about this and everyone freaked out ("WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN LISTEN GOD?????")

Calls Ace and Sabo frequently, and, after film Red, Uta, too. Those moments, a tired Usopp is grabbed to translate to the Den Den Mushi literally everything Luffy says, which is, like, A LOT.

Bros with Zoro, likes clinging to Nami and Law, makes very big puppy eyes to Sanji when he appears on the kitchen wanting food, teaches everything he knows to Bonney (everyone thinks he is a bad influence)

Listens to any kind of music, but really likes brazillian rap and funk

Always on the same fucking clothing, washes it once a month as Luffy himself barely bathes, always on flip-flops or chinelo how we call it in Brazil

Says he is scared of nothing, but is actually scared of one thing: carnivore plants. Those little motherfuckers.

Before he ate the fruit, he was already really good at gymnastics for his age, and now he uses it to improve his fight style (everybody keeps wondering how he does these sick moves. I mean, yeah, he is made of rubber, but even rubber has limits?????)

Only Makino cut his hair before, back at his village. After a few weeks when she entered the crew, Nami had to convince her to let her do it cuz it looked like shit. She is the only one to wash it and clean it, and even though he was makes it back to looking like a mess.

When he gets tired, he usually just lays on the ground and feels Sunny move through the waves below him. It's kind. Sunny is always very kind, so was Merry.

His favorite people are his crew. If you mess with them, prepare to fucking die. After all, a captain's role is to protect the crew, and he loves them.

Usopp

Autistic, special interest in creating stuff. Hypersensitive to lights, no voice tone control, has lots of social scripts and mental notes about human behaviour, has a hard time telling if people are being sarcastic or not, has frequent meltdowns over visual stims that involve a lot of crying.

Has ADHD, BPD, anxiety and depression. Alongside his compulsive lying, it really makes it hard for him to build relationships that last long, as he feared being hurt, then sometimes ended it so it wouldn't hurt but it did anyway, and other times being abandoned. Thought it was his fault and has a lot of hidden self-loathing due to "screwing it up". Due to that, Kaya was his only friend before the straw hats, as she understood it was not his fault and also knew what it felt like to be left because of something you never asked for in the first place and didn't choose. Usopp has some downs episodes in which he really needs help to find again his will to stay alive, and those times he clings at Robin.

Even though his height is pretty average, just a bit short, his thin body makes him look smaller than he is. Is black, has many freckles, usually keeps his curly hair in a bandana because he doesn't want to spend much time with it.

Nonbinary, but just noticed now when he first heard of it. He feels like something, but it's not a man nor a woman. Very in love with Kaya, they started dating right before he left Syrup Village (I am taking this from the live action thank you very much)

Very good at fishing, one of the best ones on crew, only loses to Jinbei. Always complains that Jinbei wins just because he is stronger and can grab bigger fish.

Favorite color is yellow and orange. It's all over his room, kind of overwhelming.

Whenever he is sad, he speaks to himself as if his mom was there, telling her the adventures he and the straw hats had.

Always calls Kaya and always looks like he is about to melt in a puddle of honey because of how sweet his words are. He really loves her.

Besties with Nami, they like gossiping and being the only people with common sense on this crew. Usually creeped out by Robin, but likes her companion most of the time. Infodumps a lot with Franky about ships and building. Gets along very well with Brook for some reason absolutely nobody knows.

Loves rap and does some himself, is actually good (opposite to Franky. Sorry, dude).

Wears more loose clothes at the ship, but when he is out is always wearing the Sogeking fit in case of a battle (Chopper and Luffy were stunned).

Scared of way too nice people. Has never actually seen one before he entered the straw hats and normally they end up trying to kill them, so yeah, this kind of people doesn't seem very trustworthy.

Likes theater. This shouldn't be a surprise, but is better at it than anyone would think. Never shows his true skills and when he does, people are so stunned they don't get that's actually Usopp.

The girls use him to try make up. At the start, he protested, but ended up liking it. Now, they call him for the girl night outs so he can try their new make ups.

Likes telling the litte Merry the stories about the crew's new adventures. She is still there, after all.

Even though he calls himself a coward, is one of the bravest crew members and can and will fight you if you touch his nakama.

Chopper

Autistic reindeer (don't ask). Does not get social cues, can't differenciate human faces for some reason. Special interest in medicine. Often struggles when showing love. Has a lot of flappy hands. Meltdowns involve overload of auditory stim.

Very little and furry (not like a furry tho). Is hugged by Bonney like a teddybear. His horns often fall for some random season reason, but they always grow back, don't worry.

What the hell is a gender? Literally does not know. Only knows about sex because of medical reasons, but has no knowledge about how it might affect or not a human's gender cause he doesn't know what's a gender. Couldn't care less which pronouns you use.

Even though he is the member of the crew with the lowest bowty, he is so cute he is the most well known of them, and SOLELY BECAUSE OF HIM they get recognized as the straw hat pirates. This ended up to the plan of a- pretending he is a teddy bear (Bonney loves this option) or b- pretending to be an itty tiny baby (Robin loves this option cause she is the one to carry him in this situation)

Favorite colors are red, pink and light yellow. A cutie.

Knows some light bad words, but everyone is very wary to not swear around him because they know Robin would kill them if she heard Chopper swear.

Very attached to his medical stuff as most of them are Hiriluk's. Whenever some of them breaks or has some defect, he panicks and starts crying and running to Usopp so he fixes it.

Constantly calls Kureha, even more than the other nakama do to their families, cuz he sometimes needs some medical advice from her on those super-specific-situations-that-can-only-happen-at-one-specific-rock-in-grand-line. She always knows what to do for some reason.

Besties with Bonney for being the only kids (he's 13 btw). Very attached to Robin and Zoro, once called them mom and dad and made both have a heart attack. Always likes to be around Nami, Usopp, Vivi and Karoo as they are the five weakest and the "coward gang". Trying to learn surgery from Law, even though he knows his methods might be a little unusual.

Likes musics he calls "soft". What that means, nobody knows. He just says if a song is soft or not soft at all.

Likes wearing human clothes, unfortunately, the only ones he finds in towns are those for babies. He is mocked by Bonney because of that.

Terrified of bats. If he hears one, he will probably faint. Vampires are the worst creatures to be ever born.

Likes sewing, even though it developed solely to create clothes for him that aren't for babies. Will patch the crew's clothes, but refuses to make new ones for them.

Has opposal thumbs because. Well, he ate the human fruit. And he needs them. It's very practical, actually.

Stims by jumping and rocking back and forth, it feels nice.

Very defensive of his nakama. Even though he is not the most threatening guy in the world, he definitely can become.

Brook

Autistic, special interest in music, stims vocally literally everytime he can, has no social understanding of others, does not get sarcasm or lies, never had different facial expressions, hypersensible to emotions.

Blind since childhood, carries a white cane with them, learned to use observation haki to feel better their surroundings. Literally nobody noticed until they asked for a book in braille, and then Brook was like "what do you mean you didn't know?"

Taller human (well, kind of human), when alive was black and has managed to keep their afro, always used round sunglasses but now doesn't because. Well. They got no eyes. Was already very thin, but now is even more due to. Yknow. BEING A SKELETON.

As they spent a lot of time alone, they could find out they were neither a man nor a woman, they are way too much amazing for that. They are just the crew's musician (and grandpa)!

Nobody knows how the fuck they manage to eat, sleep and poop. Chopper tries to find out, but still can't figure how this happens. Brook isn't bothered at all, Chopper poking around them tickles (another question Chopper has, how the fuck you feel tickling without nerves or skin?!)

Don't has a favorite color, but always says it's purple when people ask. Never explained why.

Does not swear, is startled by it.

Sometimes speaks to themself due to spending such a long time alone. These moments, some member of the crew will help them and stay around until Brook feels better.

Knows how to play every fucking instrument ever. It's REALLY impressive, and nobody knows how ("I'm such a mysterious person yohohohoho")

Besties with Jinbei, Franky and Robin. Likes bothering Law and making him try to kill them, it's fun. Lets Robin teach Bonney biology by letting her disassemble and try to assemble them again (Bonney feels bad if she assembles them the wrong way, but Chopper always calms her down by putting everything on the right place).

Loves every music ever made. Even bad songs will sound good if they play it, it's their superpower.

Wears victorian-like clothes that were fashion literally 50 years ago. Refused to change their closet even after leaving Thriller Bark, with just a few fun additions.

Very scared of ghost stories. Some will make them even pass out.

Very good at logic puzzles, those kinds of charades of, like, "A needs to sit on a bus with eleven seats but has fought with half of the people and B is in love with them and wants to stay near them and C", yeah, they rock this shit.

Sometimes ends up breaking a bone. The first time everyone panicked, but Chopper managed to put it in a cast and it was alright.

They love touching stuff that are making sounds at the moment. The vibrations feel really nice.

Not the biggest fan of killing people, but doesn't mind causing some heart attacks to those who have hurt their crew.

Law

Autistic and nonverbal, used to communicate through sign language as a kid but then changed it to writing because of Cora. Special interest is Germa 66 fandom stuff. No facial expressions. Absolutely hates bread due to it feeling awful. Hypersensitive to touch. Does not know and does not want to social interact. Has shutdowns in which he can't move.

Has PTSD due to the destruction of White Town and Cora's death. Often has flashbacks and will sometimes go on a violent frenzy, at these moments needs to stay in a closed space so he can get out of it.

Has dark skin, but there are a few small white patches that look a lot like vitiligo as scars from the white lead. Black eyes, hair and goatee, has many tatoos and scars through their body, a little taller than average and kind of strong. Has a tatoo of the name Cora over his heart* (no, it's not corny, shut up).

Transmasc and nonbinary, found out a few months after leaving Donquixote Pirates. Chose Law as it was close enough to his deadname so it would still match with Lami's. Also aroace, very grossed out by romance, PDA and sex. Finds all of these to be pretty stupid.

Thought the straw hats were gonna hate them because of the whole "we are not allies" thing and just tolerate their presence because Luffy helped them after they lost the Heart Pirates. He was really surprised with how kind everyone (well, some were not kind, but still nice) was to them, and, for the first time in a long, long while, let themself cry, alone, on the bedroom, while thinking about their crew.

Favorite color is black. He is very emo. Vivi keeps calling him an e-boy in secret. He can never know.

Would swear a lot if he had the energy to do so solely by writing. These times, he uses his favorite sign, the middle finger.

One day, Franky saw him praying for his loved ones, alone. He didn't say anything, but nobody complain when he added a room to the ship for personal praying and paying respects to deceased loved ones.

Almost never makes noises, just when caught off guard (lil surprise exclamations), and because of his writing communication, also developed the habit to register everything that happened. Heard the stories of the crew and is now writing down everything, an unintentional diary writer.

For some reason, Yamato really wants a spar with them, but Law keeps saying no. He feels better around Robin, Vivi and Zoro, as they never bother him. Needs to keep his door locked so Luffy, Usopp, Nami and Bonney won't borrow (steal) his shit all the time.

Likes rock, yeah, but has a special love for indie, more fandom-niche songs, like the phenomenom of "Harpy Hare".

Wears solely emo, goth or punk clothes, nothing else (yes, his hat fits these styles perfectly). Spends a long time chosing their clothes, actually.

Scared of dogs. Just doesn't like the fact they are too hyperactive, unpredictable and have sharp teeth (maybe that's why he is a lil scared of Yamato too).

Learned to play some ukulele as a kid, but is not the best at it now. Has only played to the heart pirates and the straw hats, as he never had the chance to do so for Cora.

Uses eyeliner, but few people actually realize it. The girls did, and want him to teach how to do one so nice like his.

Due to being a surgeon, is VERY aware of diseases and dirt, and has forced everyone to take showers and change clothes regularly because his ass is NOT staying in a ship where people bath once a month.

Has lots of fidget toys he keeps on his pockets. Whenever they get nervous, they just pick them up and nobody asks.

Is afraid of losing this crew too, so gets even more merciless than before towards people that want to hurt any of the straw hats.

*I think I'm really clever because of that cuz Corazon is the spanish for Coração which is the portuguese for Heart so it's even more corny Law does not know about the romane languages logic and let it be visible for me mwahahahahahaha

[gear-project]

DEAR SANTA

Lots of stuff happened this year, not sure how I'll continue to deal with it, but somehow I will.

But, I owe you a big thank-you, Santa...

See, thing of it is, I finally got to talk with my family again recently, and no, I don't mean the guy I don't get along with, I mean the family I DO GET ALONG WITH.

You know how it goes...

I was also yet again reminded of my mortality... I don't know what I'm gonna do moving forward, but I also think about the people who have supported me over the years and I really want to do something nice for them if you got any ideas...

I've been feeling rather down lately, Santa... gifts to me feel like something of a matter of course in my solitary household (i.e. buying gifts for myself and nobody else)... just lots of ideas and concepts people put together to make toys and games and other things, but... I feel like I get stuck on the stuff I currently own and can't move on to newer things very easily.

Someone recently confronted me about my taste in games, and their point of view makes me out to be something of a bully when it comes to fighting games... But they're the minority and only real exception I've come across: everyone else I know is more than capable of being competitive and improving their skills...

Well, I guess there ARE some rare people who just aren't cut out to have a game controller or joystick in their hands... but, it bothers me that said people sometimes give up far too easily. I wish I could fix that self-condemning mindset others can have.

In terms of my recent tastes, I've been overly obsessed with forging weapons in Soul Calibur... I know it's weird to have a hobby over a game that rarely gets played except in small circles but... I just got the itch to craft powerful weapons for each of the game's respective fighting styles (Libra of Souls is very fun, even after several years this game has been out).

I still have my eyes on DNF Duel, The Rumble Fish 2+, and also GranBlue Fantasy Versus Rising (among many other titles). To say nothing of my gaming backlog and my PC that STILL needs to get fixed.

But, if I had to say the greatest gift you've given me, Santa... it's the gift to stay positive in a world of negative opinions and bias.

I've struggled a great deal with some people of late, others reject me outright and wish I'd disappear, and even when it comes to family members, I'm still juggling a delicate balance with some of my folks who don't even get along with themselves.

The world would be so much simpler if people just dropped their pride and got along.

Or, at least, that's my line of thinking.

Oh, so, you were thinking this would be a more positive letter, Santa?

Sorry about that... I got a lot on my mind.

I've been cleaning my Apartment, and that's a monumental task when you live by yourself.

Even though I'm busy, I'm glad there's a ton of GG fans to keep me busy though with community discussion of Lore and other topics related to Guilty Gear.

I've been keeping this tradition of writing the letters to you Santa, out of respect for the idea of whom you represent: Human Kindness.

I just want you to know I'm glad you've been supporting me all this while. And even if I'm not productive all the time, just the fact I can continue to talk about stuff I like on this blog of mine is a blessing I can never be too thankful for.

In terms of stuff I "want" for Christmas though... it's a bit complicated, since I'm still PLAYING my backlog of games... BUUUT... if I ever get around to it, I'll check out some other stuff when I get the chance.

I know a lot of people think I'm weird for only liking sword-based fighting games (i.e. GBFVSR, Samurai Shodown, Guilty Gear, BlazBlue, etc)... but the only thing I can really say is... that's just how I am: I like swords. I like weapons. I like armor. That's my schtick.

Some people only play SNK games or Capcom games or whatnot... I acknowledge that... but I just have different aesthetics.

Aside gaming though, I have to say Santa... please continue to support Comic Book, Manga, and Manhwa artists... I've been reading Berserk for a long time (even despite losing Miura) and just the fact that series is so loved by both fans and creators alike is amazing. I wish more comics got that level of support!

Though, it'd be great if someone talked to YouTube about their Advertising standards... I'm not interested in Gacha Commercials interrupting videos I watch for extended periods... but well... I'm just being nitpicky I guess. Just would be nice if they set their Ads between videos and not in the middle.

Anyways, Santa... just, for now, keep an eye on me.

I had to deal with the whole "being in a Hospital" thing this year... and that was something I am still mentally recovering over. But at least I'm mostly mended.

Next up: gotta visit a Dentist.... sigh... as if fixing my PC was easy by comparison!

Welp, that's it (I think?) I haven't even sucked up the courage to buy a PlayStation 5 yet... I doubt I will though, since I'm pretty content with my PS4 at the moment.

PC-wise... I dunno, there's a lot going on that needs fixing and I need an expert to advise me (even make a house-call, since I'm not taking this huge desktop on a bus with me to a shop).

I just hope when everyone's settled I can afford it.

But yeah... that's about it, Santa. I hope things are good on your end... gotta keep the Elves happy and all that. I bet feeding Reindeer is expensive too!

Take care... and I hope you have a MERRY CHRISTMAS!

(FYI I say "Christ" in Christmas... because I'm traditional, so deal with it!)

Yours Truly, Gear-Project (dot Tumblr)

P.S.: I'm still playing STRIVE despite the haters, so here's hoping next year is just as exciting for Guilty Gear!

[carewyncromwell]

"What do you think?"

"...I think you're...very beautiful."

"I should hope so. And just who might you be? What are you doing here?"

x~x~x~x

Yay, Halloween is almost here! And my "movie character costume" for Carewyn and Jacob's aunt Pearl Cromwell is definitely a combo breaker. Although all of my other entries in this series have featured dressing my characters up as animated movie characters, I decided on a live action movie villain for Pearl -- specifically Mombi from one of my favorite underrated childhood movies, Return to Oz! (As a side, it was bloody impossible to find good quality still image references for this dress!! I had to simplify it quite a bit simply because I had so little to work with.)

Honestly, when it came to thinking of a costume for Pearl, I was kind of at a loss, in the beginning. Both Pearl and Claire are decidedly more subservient to Charles's will than even fellow Clan member Blaise is, considering that Claire is such a passive and ignorant character and Pearl follows him out of a misguided sense of honor -- so casting either of them as incredibly powerful, malevolent, self-focused Disney villains like Ursula or Maleficent seemed incredibly out-of-place. And yet even more "realistic" villains like Mother Gothel seemed more in-line with Blaise personality-wise, since Pearl's style of parenting tends to lean more on sternness and stoicism ("just suck it up and stop complaining," basically), rather than manipulation and feigned, cloying affection. Even Lady Tremaine, who I definitely eyed for a while, didn't come across as that great a match for Pearl, since she's never been the sort to want to social-climb through her children or otherwise, nor is she the sort to get any satisfaction from her subjugation and abuse of others, instead being much more the type to justify it as a necessary evil.

What really shifted gears in my head was finding a villain that looked more like Pearl, and Mombi immediately came to mind, since her original head has reddish curls just like how I imagine Pearl's, although quite a bit shorter and lighter in color. (Mombi's hair actually better resembles mine, funnily enough!!) And then yeah, I made the connection -- Mombi in Oz may be incredibly intimidating in her own way, but she's ultimately subservient to the real mastermind, the Nome King -- just as Pearl is subservient to the mastermind in her storyline, her father Charles. Mombi is perfectly willing to keep a child captive in a mirror on the Nome King's direction -- just as Pearl arguably keeps her own children, Arsen and Kain, inside the stifling Cromwell Manor because Charles is determined not to "lose" any other family members like he did Lane. And in the Real World, Mombi's non-magical counterpart -- Nurse Wilson -- is a very cold, stoic, oftentimes cruelly dutiful character who still betrays a tiny shred of humanity, since she does actually jump into a rushing river to try to rescue Dorothy at one point and looks genuinely distraught (maybe for the sake of her job, but also perhaps sincerely) when it looks like Dorothy is going to drown. This too is very "Pearl" to me: she can come across as heartless a lot of the time, but she isn't pure evil. Admittedly Pearl isn't as vain as Mombi by a long-shot, but hey, can't win 'em all.

I decided to base the head in Pearl's hands on her deceased mother Marilyn, just as a little shout-out to the rest of the Cromwell line. And well, that kind of macabre touch is very true to the film, that's for sure! Return to Oz overall is a movie I know a lot of people see as nightmare fuel, especially in comparison to MGM's The Wizard of Oz, which it tries to be a sequel to but doesn't match in tone at all. For me personally, though, I loved both films as a kid and I still do -- I like the MGM film for its music, dancing, and innocence, Return to Oz for its real sense of danger and darker, more book-accurate whimsy, and both for the unique and likable characters they created.

Coming very soon: our last two main Cromwell Clan members, Claire and Charles, to finish off these Halloween sketches for the year!

[reveseke]

JS!Reader headcanons; gear, powers, relationships and so on.

Criminal minds × Spiderverse au; headcanons.

No warnings really. Noel mention, that's about it.

A/N: Okay okay okay okay okay, I wanted to put down some thoughts about my original spider! Reader au that started it all. Just basic power functions, about gear, and relationships/allies etc. I'm also refreshing my memory. There's a cat laying on me, help.

Disclaimer, I wasn't supposed to be writing this but I can't sleep either so ramblings of a sleep deprived kirje otus ✨ I plan on doing this same thing with the other variants of the spider! Reader that's been discussed with anon on my blog such as the variants of black widow base spider! reader.

How do I tag this ???

So original spider!/ JS! Reader, he was a self indulgence on my part in a way; there's background & some personality to him already, the arcade & dog mentioned in the oneshots & headcanons, masc & using he/him.

No description of looks has been set though and never will be.

- based on jumping spiders, bc love love love love love them so much, so let's call him JS! Reader.

- OH, brief context on power origin; so JS!R got bumped and kidnapped, his genes and DNA have been mutated with that of a specially DNA modified jumping spider gene.

- JS!R is specifically based on more scifi-style setting, where he doesn't get all the abilities in one big scene. And he's not a science need, but a general engineering nerd so he builds his own stuff or buys and modifies.

- grappling hooks to help him get from building to building because he doesn't produce silk before like few months later bc i said so. (It's actually based on the body's recovery and adjusting time ++ general discovery of how to use abilities and so on that is not an instantaneous process.)

- sensory information receiving probably would be the first thing JS!R discovers first, I mean, he gets more sensory input from the outside world; becomes more sensitive to touch specifically and visual stimuli.

- also I think the Visual stimuli side also activates his spider sense so much easier than anything else. Faux danger in a way, the subconscious feeling of dread (or pressure?) when you feel someone watching you when you become aware that someone is watching you. That happens in your subconscious.

^ working on that upper one also I think since JS!R would be Hotch's son, he would be probably so much more aware of things around him due to the time he spent in the witness protection with Jack & his mum, Hayley. (The whole George Foyet thing happened before JS!R got his powers soo) The last moments where the kids were in danger would have made his senses probably more keen in cases where he's being watched. Even the same with false alarms (your subconscious mistakes something and thinks it's a danger and puts you into the sense that you're in danger; false fight or flight mode etc etc.).

- then there would be the jumpiness due to the sensory input he's going through, afterwards he'd probably get to see the fact that he can now jump more length and higher than normally/before (bc JS!R is a highschooler, that's what he's been written to be. And gym/P.E in school.)

- JS!R will get the web/silk production little by little specifically three weeks after it would start in some thin and uncooperative strands that he can't do much about or work with. (He's just kinda sticky fingered at first, because while yes he does have the gland that produces the silk on his wrist it's at the very near of his inner palm.)

^ physically his hands and wrists will be sore when it develops over several months and kinda ""grows into its place"".

- I see a lot in the canon of spiderverse that the characters struggle with letting the grip go, but in JS!R case it's all about the small hairs growing into their place and being unreliable. Also sweat makes them more unreliable because it makes them slick and less likely to stick to any surfaces.

- I think he accidentally discovered the super strength and properly his spider senses. Reflexes would be discovered in school most likely (again Gym/P.E) or something. Uuuuhhhhhhhh yehs.

about his gear !!

- I already mentioned that JS!R makes most of his gear himself.

^ uses something similar to grappling hooks as a substitute to combat the lack of silk/webbing at first.

- he has a really simplistic ""uniform"" = a nice jacket with a hood/hoodie with hood up (plus points it has a nice arcade style design on it!!) & a bandanna on his face of something similar to that to hide his face. Probably some type of eyewear, like goggles to combat winds. Also protective gear; knee & elbow skating pads.

- that doesn't really change much over the course of the whole thing. I think there's a headcanon or a mention of a gasmask on the place of the bandanna in my older work though but I'm not completely sure. (That would probably be seen as an update though ... Like I don't mean the full face helmet-like gasmasks but respirators masks !!)

Allies and relationships !! ++ some media visibility.

- so I already have made a small headcanon/one shot —I think— about Hotch finding JS!reader coming in through the window after patrolling like months after the initial incident.

- uhh... Also it's been at some point headcanoned/put to be that Hotch & JS!R do some work together when it comes to cases & other things. (Of course due to regulations it's just here and there, Hitch tells JS!R more about his work and so on because R made a deal with him. Iirc .. nvm if it wasn't like that bc now that's headcanoned!). Albeit, it's later on that Hotch introduces JS!R to his team (mentioned in that one derek-centered blurb) at a point that's not been written about yet lol.

- also the Hotchners do have a dog in this au bc i said so, his name is Tossu now.

- (Media visibility mention) so, Hotch knows his son is the vigilante that folks call a spiderman.. or Jumpy for that matter with how the clips he's shown in have him either jumping or being jumpy (scared and so on, jumping out of fear etc).

- He has a friend and & an ally who was also one of the kids that was taken/kidnapped and used for unethical experiments; Noel (she/they nonbinary character) who is also a more or less designed to be an oracle-like character.

^ expanding on that; He & Noel have a very casual friendship going on where JS!R is shown to be concerned by how little self preservation skill Noel has (I think I have a blurb up about that??). Also it's shown that the two do work together from time to time at least while being both vigilantes. Noel is portreyed as a bit greedy and interested in thrill seeking, but is also very determined and focused when they want to be.

Also I have yet to write anything regarding Noel's powers. But she essentially works something similar like an oracle does. That was always set in stone for that guy.

- Hotch knows about Noel but not in detail, I mean he did see her sitting around the side of JS!R bed at the hospital waiting for him to wake up when lore was introduced about him & Noel was initially introduced.

- there's been like four other characters designed to be JS!R ally's but y'know ... Idk when and/or if I'll be making things about that lol.

- also enemies, there's a WIP oneshot that mentioned a weapons dealer who is linked to the "how's it hanging there?" oneshot & the whole kidnapping of JS!R and the other kids.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi, I have hard executive dysfunctions but had some (temporary) results using to-do apps and stuff. For everything, brushing teeth, eating, etc. But it always end (very quickly) by me adding 30+ to dos for a day and working 10 hours to get them done until I break down. I can't not do it. Once I think about it, there is sooo much to do, so much I neglected.

So I saw this nice bullet journal in a shop today and took it with me and need some ideas how to make it, to not end like the others:

I thought about a symptom part, how good did I sleep, what mental health issues do I have, etc pp.

I am completely unsure if I should ad any "chore to-dos" or only self care/mental health ones. But even those feel like chores so...

And my energy level varies strongly so I thought about keeping it vague like idk "do one relaxing thing"-like maybe. So I could decide on that day, what I think I will get done. But that's pretty unsatifying.

Ah and, as much as I love such book and diaries etc, writing it down feels like a chore too so... It sounds worse than it is, I had some results but everything in this world sounds like a chore so I am unsure how to make this fun and manageable and neither go to the extreme nor give up.

Give me all your ideas and examples and plans.

Hi anon,

As soon as I saw your ask I just knew I wanted to answer it ~ I have ADHD, but because of other chronic health issues - I cannot take stimulant medications for it and rely on my adaptations to manage symptoms (and yup, some of my mental energy does get used up doing it this way - but it is possible for some of us!). I wanted to start by sharing some resource links and articles first:

The Best Work Schedule for ADHD Brains: Flexible or Rigid? (with resources at the end, and lots of reflections from a variety of folks who benefit from both - great starting point to see which style resonates with you)

Adults With Executive Function Disorder (scroll about halfway down for tips and resources)

Tips and Tricks for Executive Function Disorder (geared towards the caretaker of a child with it, but still impactful suggestions, including movement breaks and reward systems)

Executive Function Disorder: Bullet Journal (one person’s personal bullet journal and how an adaptable reward system - shaped like a bingo card - really helped them) 

But also wanted to share what I use/tell myself throughout the day/week to help: (under the cut to help avoid the post getting super long)

I personally use an adapted planner for the overall schedule, it’s got enough blank spaces where if I want to “change it up” I can do that week to week, but in general this is the place where I store my overall monthly calendar and every Sunday night write out my week ahead of “big things” (apps, time sensitive errands, etc).  

I take a picture of my monthly calendar, as well as my weekly so even if I’m out and about I can quickly refer to it if someone asks about a date - versus saying “I’ll check my calendar later and get back to you” . . . and then - never doing it, whoops!

People in my life are used to it by now, but essentially if someone tells me something like “next weekend is so and so’s birthday” - I’ll take a moment to set an alarm reminder to add it to my calendar when I’m home, and or make a text message note on my phone, and set an alarm that essentially reads “don’t forget to add your text notes to the calendar” (some days I can have like fifteen alarms going off throughout the day, but this way I also manage to add the information I need to, versus feeling like I’m constantly forgetting something, or worse, expending limited mental energy constantly cycling through a “don’t forget don’t forget don’t forget” concentration).

I timeblock my day every morning before everyone else is awake, for example: 7 to 8 - studies, 9 to 10 - social, and so on.  By doing it every day, I can refer back to it throughout the day and adjust as needed but also not plan too far ahead with no adaptability to changing circumstances.  I also ensure that for a chunk of “serious chores” I also schedule in what I like to call “serotonin boosts” - whether that’s some friends time, or creative time, whatever sparks joy for you.  There have definitely been days where I felt like I could not do one more email - and then reminded myself that as soon as I got through the five I scheduled myself for, then I could draw for an hour (a basic ‘this, then that’ reward system).  Suddenly, I manage to push through it, and often quicker than I had originally thought it would take - allowing me to have even more time with something that brings joy.

If I have to be somewhere at a certain time, I set several alarms, almost like a countdown 

I like to use fun color pens, or even pens with like fuzzy balls, or some other sort of stimming part to it as I work - it allows me a moment to stim if I need it, even when I’m tackling the “boring brain dump” stuff.

No amount of telling my brain “just do it” for twenty minutes is going to magically create the dopamine/serotonin it needs to do the thing.  So if a reward isn’t working, I get up and move with a timer to get it going that way, and then try again.

I’m sure there’s plenty more ideas/tips/tricks - anyone stumbling on this, please feel free to comment, reblog, and add to it, but I hope it’s a helpful start for you and anyone else out there looking for adaptions. - Mod Kat

[genopaint]

Since my brain is in a very Axel the Alligator obsessed mode again, I figured it'd be fun to make a small recap of the main characters I've made (so far) for the Axel universe as well as a recap for the general concept of the universe. Just if anyone was curious + i love talking

Other lore tidbits: 

-There are NO humans. All main named characters are either reptiles, amphibians, or dinosaurs. However mammals still exist but they are just regular animals. 

-Camilla's gang is an army of various reptiles she calls 'No-Names' cause she doesn't care enough to remember their actual names. 

-The general themes of the world and stories is about fighting higher powers and how hopeless determination is stronger than any and all gods and power 

I also want to make some sort of "style guide" for anyone who is curious and/or wants to make Axel OCs. But idk when I'll get around to it. 

Feel free to ask any questions about the Axel world I love talking about my OCs and hopefully soon I'll actually make more friends for Axel I'm just struggling to think of them THEY HAVE TO BE GOOD!

I probably should have put this in the actual images but a lot of the universe is inspired by some of my favorite pieces of fiction. Super Mario (RPGs especially), Sonic the Hedgehog, Gurren Lagann, Yugioh, Guilty Gear, Final Fantasy 9.  Since it's meant to be really self indulgent I absolutely wear my inspiration on my sleeve aha. Hopefully it still comes off as original despite all the influence I take from things i love!

Also here’s the toyhouse page if you wanna see more stuff and info on stuff (x)

[protagonistheavy]

Not that I ever expected greatness but the FNAF movie sucked on multiple levels. Even if you try to squint and give some generosity to the production, i feel like the direction itself is just flawed to its base.

Most importantly I feel like all the charm and appeal of FNAF is entirely lost here. The movie simple isnt scary at ANY point and leans more as a suspense-comedy than anything else. There's no horror of basically any magnitude. The restaurant quickly loses any sense of creepiness as we get so accustomed with the limited set and rarely get to see anything that made the original restaurant in FNAF so unsettling; the animatronics look way too good and function way more like a regular robots to actually scare anyone, way too much emotion from them -- on top of the fact that we get very familiar with them as characters. They don't use compelling angles enough to sell the creepy-animatronic factor, and we dont see them in regular action to ever get that feeling of "oh god, these corpse robots are interacting with people."

There's basically no gore except cuts, only one James Bond-style death trap, and a VERY campy silhouette death. There is so much potential in this factor, all the gears and machinery that could be used to create horrible situations... but none of that is properly utilized. Violent engagements with the animatronics are just a matter of a guy in a suit pushing other people around. The most violence you get is the fucking cupcake toy, which is just a straight up ghoulie I guess, it's the only competent threat in the movie and is way overused.

But then on top of all this........... get this, there really isn't enough jumpscares in this movie. Which is so fucked up! It's normally too easy for movies to include too many jumpscares... but here, there's such a disappointing lack of them. Jumpscares is so much what FNAF is, if any movie was gonna have too many jumpscares and get away with it, this is the one!! And yet we only get three in the entire movie, including a mid-credits scene, and they're ALL THE SAME GAG. Ugh! The animatronics are supposed to be surprising and hard to see, not henchmen for a Batman villain.

And then the comedy, of which there is too much of, just doesnt normally hit. I giggled more at just the fact that I was watching a FNAF movie than I did at any intentional gag. And this sucks so much too because humor is also a key part to the FNAF feeling, how so many times it can surprise you with such a good joke, or refresh you after a scare by providing something funny in between. That just isnt present here, you just get regular old Hollywood humor, at best it's a "so bad its funny" kind of humor.

Finally, the movie tries too hard to cram in every good idea FNAF ever had into one plotline, and the result is a plotline that makes no sense -- not with the FNAF lore, and not even with its own self. You will be left with so many dumb questions that have no good answers, and even more if youre a fan of the series. Characters are completely different from their inspirations, their motivations are even more whack as hell. It's like the director read a summary of deep FNAF lore and just figured shoving every idea into one plot would be spooky and cover all their bases, but it just makes a jumbled mess of a plot with characters you never give a shit about, in a world that makes little sense and does little to draw you in.

Funny enough, I happened to watch Willy's Wonderland in the background at a party the night before, and even though I wasnt even watching it completely, I have to admit that movie just seemed more compelling than FNAF. It had a protagonist I wanted to learn about, mysteries that keep you wondering, humor that was ridiculous enough to make me laugh more sincerely, and animatronics that frankly had a spookier appeal to them, in a premise that was much more engaging. In some ways, Willy's is even truer to the spirit of FNAF, albeit with Nic Cage action sequences; there's at least a better attempt at conveying a complete story, and it does more to create spooks and frights with the setting. I really loved in Willy's the scenes where Nic Cage is cleaning the place, I love the attention to detail -- which gets you engrossed with the setting, makes you feel like youre there, convinces you it was indeed a happy place once before becoming tarnished. Im definitely thinking waaay more of Willy's than I am of FNAF lol.