#test 1 prep challenge

[i-wanna-study]

Time left for the exam: 2 days

[misserabella]

hey! i love your spencer reid fanfics!

i wanted to request a spencer x reader fanfic where they are experimenting with each other sort of and spencer times how much he can make reader come or how long it would take him to make her squirt because he’s not just a curious genius but also down bad

ty and if you’re uncomfortable with that just ignore! 💜

let’s put it to the test

experienced! spencer x inexperienced! reader

okay but what if spencer is the once with experience this time and reader is the one inexperienced?!?

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, spencer being a supportive attentive perfect boyfriend, taking it slow, make out sessions, fluff!!!, thigh riding, dry humping, fingering, mutual masturbation, spencer teaching r how to touch him, oral sex (r receiving), multiple orgasms, lingerie, spencer going feral, hard sex (reader asks for it), nipple sucking, dirty talking, breeding kink, piv unprotected, cream pie!!, squirting…

experienced! spencer who reassures you that there’s nothing wrong for not being experienced sexually with kisses and cuddles, telling you that he’s okay with waiting until you’re ready to take that step with him, or even if you never wanted to, he’d still be okay with it ‘cause he loves you.

experienced! spencer who starts off slow with you, pecks, kisses, and make out sessions in that order, until you seek more and start grinding yourself down onto his lap. he doesn’t touch you. not yet. he kisses you, and encourages you to ride his thigh. to make yourself feel good. and you do. hesitantly at first, but then you get the hang of it and it feels so good… coming against his slacks becomes your first and comfort way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who doesn’t pressure you, lets you explore, let’s you touch him, pleasure him if that’s what you want. he teaches you how to touch him, how to turn his mind blank. and when you’re completely and utterly soaked due to his beautiful moans, you beg for him to touch you. he asks if you’re sure, makes you promise that you’ll stop him if you don’t like it or change your mind. that night you two masturbate each other. his fingers become your second and favorite way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who, weeks later, notices that you’re keeping something to yourself. he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t want to make you say it before you’re comfortable to talk about it. one night, while he fingers and kisses you, you whisper that you want his tongue. and he catches on what you want the first time. but he wants you to be specific, ‘cause god, spencer has been wanting to taste you since the first time he saw you. so you ask him if “could you eat me out, please spencer?” and who is he to say no? his mouth is heaven. and moves up on the chart, taking the number 1.

experienced! spencer who becomes obsessed —just like you— with tasting your pretty pussy. getting into silly little missions like ‘i’m gonna put a countdown of thirty minutes and see how much i can make you cum before the alarm goes off’, what at first makes you roll your eyes, but when he’s already pulled 3 orgasms out of you by the fifteen minute mark, you’re rolling them for a completely other reason. yeah, you love this little challenges of his.

experienced! spencer who comes one day back from a hard case to find you kneeling on his plushy bed, bare except for the prettiest lavender lacy lingerie set you had bought solely for him, telling him that you’re ready. that you want him to fuck you. and he doesn’t need much convincing.

experienced! spencer who almost cums when his tip slides in, ‘cause even if he had prepped you, and made you come a couple of times to slick and relax you, you’re still soooo tight.

experienced! spencer who takes it slow, who circles your clit, who sucks at your nipples to help you get used to the pressure, to the feeling of his big cock splitting you apart.

experienced! spencer who groans when you beg him to fuck you hard. when you tell him that you can take it. that you want him to break you.

experienced! spencer who goes feral and gives you exactly what you want. and well, if you thought his mouth was heaven, his cock is certainly something above that.

“is this what my pretty girl wanted? wanted me to split this pussy open, hm? look at you, baby, you’re drooling. taking my cock like the perfect little cock sleeve that you are. fuuck yeah, squeeze me like that, princess. good fucking girl.”

experienced! spencer who praises you. who degrades you. who chokes you. who marks you…

experienced! spencer who has you coming like crazy, having fucked you in every single position, reaching so deep inside you he’s hitting your cervix as he bends you in the most perfect mating press.

“how many orgasms do you think it’ll take me to make you squirt, hm? let’s find out shall we?”

experienced! spencer who indeed makes you squirt, so much you end up soaking the mattress. making a mess of his sheets and thighs. you’re a pure fuck toy as he fucks out of you spurt after spurt, buckets of liquid out of your swollen and abused cunt.

experienced! spencer who groans as if he were in pain when you plead for him to cum inside you, to fill you up.

experienced! spencer who does it as in command, coming so hard he’s seeing stars.

experienced! spencer who then spends the rest of the week making sure to fuck you full of his cum in every room on his apartment, on every surface.

@cafekitsune ‘s dividers!

@ordinarywaifusstuff ty for your support and this ask! hope you like how it came out!💋

[reasonsforhope]

"A large clinical trial in South Africa and Uganda has shown that a twice-yearly injection of a new pre-exposure prophylaxis drug gives young women total protection from HIV infection.

The trial tested whether the six-month injection of lenacapavir would provide better protection against HIV infection than two other drugs, both daily pills. All three medications are pre-exposure prophylaxis (or PrEP) drugs.

Physician-scientist Linda-Gail Bekker, principal investigator for the South African part of the study, tells Nadine Dreyer what makes this breakthough so significant and what to expect next.

Tell us about the trial and what it set out to achieve

The Purpose 1 trial with 5,000 participants took place at three sites in Uganda and 25 sites in South Africa to test the efficacy of lenacapavir and two other drugs.

Lenacapavir (Len LA) is a fusion capside inhibitor. It interferes with the HIV capsid, a protein shell that protects HIV’s genetic material and enzymes needed for replication. It is administered just under the skin, once every six months.

The randomised controlled trial, sponsored by the drug developers Gilead Sciences, tested several things.

The first was whether a six-monthly injection of lenacapavir was safe and would provide better protection against HIV infection as PrEP for women between the ages of 16 and 25 years than Truvada F/TDF, a daily PrEP pill in wide use that has been available for more than a decade.

Secondly, the trial also tested whether Descovy F/TAF, a newer daily pill, was as effective as F/TDF...

The trial had three arms. Young women were randomly assigned to one of the arms in a 2:2:1 ratio (Len LA: F/TAF oral: F/TDF oral) in a double blinded fashion. This means neither the participants nor the researchers knew which treatment participants were receiving until the clinical trial was over.

In eastern and southern Africa, young women are the population who bear the brunt of new HIV infections. They also find a daily PrEP regimen challenging to maintain, for a number of social and structural reasons.

During the randomised phase of the trial none of the 2,134 women who received lenacapavir contracted HIV. There was 100 percent efficiency.

By comparison, 16 of the 1,068 women (or 1.5%) who took Truvada (F/TDF) and 39 of 2,136 (1.8%) who received Descovy (F/TAF) contracted the HIV virus...

What is the significance of these trials?

This breakthrough gives great hope that we have a proven, highly effective prevention tool to protect people from HIV.

There were 1.3 million new HIV infections globally in the past year. Although that’s fewer than the 2 million infections seen in 2010, it is clear that at this rate we are not going to meet the HIV new infection target that UNAIDS set for 2025 (fewer than 500,000 globally) or potentially even the goal to end Aids by 2030...

For young people, the daily decision to take a pill or use a condom or take a pill at the time of sexual intercourse can be very challenging.

HIV scientists and activists hope that young people may find that having to make this “prevention decision” only twice a year may reduce unpredictability and barriers.

For a young woman who struggles to get to an appointment at a clinic in a town or who can’t keep pills without facing stigma or violence, an injection just twice a year is the option that could keep her free of HIV.

What happens now?

The plan is that the Purpose 1 trial will go on but now in an “open label” phase. This means that study participants will be “unblinded”: they will be told whether they have been in the “injectable” or oral TDF or oral TAF groups.

They will be offered the choice of PrEP they would prefer as the trial continues.

A sister trial is also under way: Purpose 2 is being conducted in a number of regions including some sites in Africa among cisgender men, and transgender and nonbinary people who have sex with men.

It’s important to conduct trials among different groups because we have seen differences in effectiveness. Whether the sex is anal or vaginal is important and may have an impact on effectiveness.

How long until the drug is rolled out?

We have read in a Gilead Sciences press statement that within the next couple of months [from July 2024] the company will submit the dossier with all the results to a number of country regulators, particularly the Ugandan and South African regulators.

The World Health Organization will also review the data and may issue recommendations.

We hope then that this new drug will be adopted into WHO and country guidelines.

We also hope we may begin to see the drug being tested in more studies to understand better how to incorporate it into real world settings.

Price is a critical factor to ensure access and distribution in the public sector where it is badly needed.

Gilead Sciences has said it will offer licences to companies that make generic drugs, which is another critical way to get prices down.

In an ideal world, governments will be able to purchase this affordably and it will be offered to all who want it and need protection against HIV."

-via The Conversation, July 3, 2024

[3liza]

i know ive done hundreds of hours of either actual protesting or doing equipment and training prep for protesting and then another hundred hours of research about riot weapon mitigation and maybe someone remembers and was expecting me to Post about it again but i just cant do a big posting marathon about it this time im sorry.

so heres the short version of what i have learned through personally being chemically attacked multiple times in multiple protests, and doing hundreds of hours of research in medical literature.. take it or leave it.

probably the single most important thing i can tell you is wear some kind of head protection (a head injury is the #1 way people get seriously hurt and killed at protests. i dont care if it looks dumb, wear a helmet).

one thing about chemical weapons is they are all different and sometimes you can make shit worse for one chemical by treating another. at the riot you wont know for sure what youve been exposed to because police use mixed products specifically to make treatment harder.

the best riot weapon treatment is to avoid being sprayed, gassed or shot in the first place. wear a helmet. wear protective clothing and if you have it, armor. buy a respirator or gas mask with an unused nato nbc filter, and do not use milk for tear gas or chemical treatment in your eyes. water is not really effective for a lot of exposures either but wont injure you, it will however often cause additional pain because riot weapons are often in oil based carriers and wont wash off with water and are designed to activate when they come into contact with it. ie, the water will make it hurt more until it wear off/evaporates.

^^^^ this thing should b e standard issue protest equipment for all street medics and i dont know why they arent except that people just dont know they exist. i want these to be the new meta. fill them with clean water or preferably saline (contact solution) before going in. the cup goes over your eyeball and then you squeeze and your eyeball gets sprayed off, which is the procedure that is hardest to accomplish in the middle of a protest because tear gas makes you clench your eyes closed involuntarily. a good street medic will basically restraint you like a dog at the vet and pry your eyelids open to rinse your eyes. this is a lot easier to accompkish with the proper equipment

you should be carrying sterile saline or lactated ringer for chemical weapon flushing, and you should get an eyewash bottle from a medical or industrial supply. or amazon. if you cant buy lactated ringer then those big bottles of contact solution with the little spray tips are also good because you can use the water pressure to spray chemical particulate off the affected surface while rinsing. sudecon and other chemical weapon ntreatment wipes also work somewhat but last time i looked into it years ago, it was very hard to source and purchase, expensive, and had limited efficacy

i did all the research on this and this was the conclusion of many papers and many military and police tests that i read.

additionally, rinsing your eyes with the lactated ringer BEFORE being contacted by riot weapons worked better in one trial than trying to treat exposure afterwards. no one tested this but i suspect that generously applying Visine to your eyes, mouth, and nostrils before getting gassed or sprayed would have a very similar mitigating effect

for skin surface treatment in the field, a 50/50 mixture of water and liquid antacid (referred to as LAW) is effective for some agents and wont hurt for the others. unfortunately the majority of chemical agents have to evaporate off you to stop hurting. all the serious, EMT-trained and experienced street medics i know carry and use LAW. i have used it on patients and on myself and i think it's more effective than water.

this web page concentrates a lot of the information and challenges about this stuff into a short amount of reading. i dont know anything about the site or the owners but the information on just this page agrees with what i found in my own research.

people will argue with me about this because theres a shitload of "folk wisdom" about protesting like the onion thing etc and most of it is straight bullshit that has been reinforced through superstition. since riot weapons wear off after a period of time, a lot of people will put stupid shit on their burns and then claim it "works" when the pain inevitably stops after X minutes. stick to saline and water if you dont know what youre doing, then wash your skin with dish soap when you get home and isolate your poisoned clothes immediately. using a clean oil and then soaping it off in a shower can help too but ONLY if you are removing the oil completely (dish soap again). oil is not a good field treatment and will make things worse if you apply it without soaping it off.

also for reasons probably related to nicotinic receptors, smoking a cigarette after tear gas inhalation helps with acute recovery. i dont know why, and it probably is obnly going to work for people who have smoking experience. there's no research about this, its purely personal observation

dehydration will make you sick and crazy and stupid faster than you think it will, so will low blood sugar. bring candy bars and water and salt to eat during the protest. bring extra to give to people.

as always, if someone is exhibiting asthma or anaphylaxis symptoms they need actual medical attention asap

reblogs off because i dont want to deal with the inevitable panic-based arguments this information always triggers

[33forthew1n]

<𝟑 .ᐟ recipe for love <𝟑 .ᐟ

🏎️❣️ yuki tsunoda x pro!chef!reader 🏎️❣️

SMAU + written ff

fluff

synopsis: • 1 cup of a content meet-cute • 1/4 cup of a driver who loves anything food-related, •1/4 cup of a professional chef roped into a driver's fast-paced life. The perfect recipe for love!

WARNINGS: cursing

a/n: yuki fans rise! 🙋‍♀️

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Three races into Yuki Tsunoda's Red Bull career he realizes something. A very obvious something that had yet to hit him until the moment he is walking into the Japanese restaurant inside the Hard Rock Hotel.

He might officially be a Formula One driver but he was doing a hell of a lot more social media than he was driving at 250 mph.

Look, he knew there would be some social media content he would have to film. But this stupid sushi challenge marks the 5th time in the matter of 4 days that he was told to film something for the team's marketing.

As he was waiting for the guests to arrive, he wondered if he would be able to complain to his manager about this. He knew it would be to no avail but fuck it was worth a try.

"Yuki. Yuki. Yuki?", a voice asks as he continues to daydream about PR-less days.

"Uhm, is he okay?", was the first thing he ever hears you say.

You in your chef uniform. Yuki had never seen someone look so at home in a kitchen that housed dozen of insanely sharp knives and people bustling to and fro. In that moment, Yuki Tsunoda knew he was in trouble. Lots of it.

"Ah-ah, yes. I am Yuki Tsunoda, driver for Red Bull. You probably knew that, though. Haha! You are?", Yuki rambled on nervously.

"Yn Ln. Executive chef of Sappari here at the Hard Rock Hotel."

You were nothing if not clear, concise, and unshakeable.

Frankly, you didn't know why you out of all the chefs at Sappari were chosen to do this marketing mess. Of course, you're the executive chef so in terms of skill and familiarity with the menu you know it all best. But, in terms of approachability and charm, you weren't the clear kitchen favorite.

There's Rei whose literally Japanese and could make this video a lot more marketable in Japan. David whose admittedly handsome and a yapper. And Will who...well, okay maybe Will was a bit of a stretch.

Regardless, you were chosen for this video and you'd have to play nice for the next few hours on camera with Yuki.

"Now that you have introduced yourselves to each other, lets get started. Cameras are rolling. 1. 2. 3.", the cameraman began the video.

"Welcome to Sappari here at the Hard Rock Hotel. On behalf of the team here at Hard Rock, we'd like to give you your own jacket. Y'know to officially make you part of the team", you began the video.

You reached under your prep work counter and got Yuki his own chef's jacket.

As filming continued, you loosened up. Yuki's clear enthusiasm for food and focus on the task at hand allowed you to feel more comfortable in your own skin while on-camera. "Oh my God, that looks stunning", he said, clearly implying his desire to eat some of the sushi you'd prepared.

"Would you like to get some taste-testing in?", you asked Yuki, already knowing the answer.

He happily agreed and began to sink in.

Throughout the rest of the video, Yuki praised your cooking and you tried your hardest to not let his compliments fluster you.

At the end of the video, you said, "I think we'll have to name this roll after you. The Yuki Special, you said?"

"Yuki's Badass Sushi", he corrected you with a smile on his face.

"Ah, yes. Don't worry I'm not the one who write the menu names, Yuks."

The sudden blush creeping onto his cheeks show that the nickname caught him by surprise.

"Thank you very much, Yn", Yuki said to end off the video.

"Thank you. That was great", was the last thing said in the video.

redbullracing

Liked by yukitsunoda0511 and 110k others

redbullracing Leave no roll behind 🍱🍣

⏩ New video up on Oracle Red Bull Racing

Red Bull Driver Yuki Tsunoda teams up with Chef Yn Ln at Sappari in the Hard Rock Hotel to cook up some Japanese dishes 👩🏻‍🍳👨🏻‍🍳

tagged: @yukitsunoda0511 @chefyn

view comments ⬇️

yukitsunoda0511 Was a pleasure to work with @chefyn 🍣🥰

^❤️ by author

gaslytsunoda first time ive seen yuki have chemistry with a non VCARB driver...

yukiyukipodium the way she looks at him when hes trying to recreate her sushi 🥹😭

↳ hadjarantics when he accidentally called her beautiful instead of the sushi 😭😭 CMON NOW

pierregasly @yukitsunoda0511 WHY AM I FINDING OUT FROM IG THAT YOU LIKE A PRO CHEF???

↳ yukitsunoda0511 maybe bc u freak like THIS when u see me getting along with anyone else??

↳ pierregasly look ONE of us has to keep the bromance alive 🙁

chefyn love hanging out with other foodies ❣️ thanks for having me @redbullracing

↳ redbullracing you're always welcome in our paddock 😉

↳ chefyn might take ya up on that 😅

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

f1

Liked by yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly, and 800k others

f1 a hot new bombshell has entered the villa (yuki's garage)

tagged: @chefyn

view comments ⬇️

redbullracing we have the best guests wbks

↳ scuderiaferrari me when i lie

↳ chefyn why am i catching strays ??? 😒

↳ scuderiaferrari sorry red bull activates our fight or flight

chefyn thanks for having me @redbullracing ❤️🏎️

yukisflatulence omfg the hard rock chef at a race???:/&:

↳ hadjarsbaguette maybe they're friends y'all. chill

↳ yukisflatulence friends. schmriends 🙄🙄

Well, sure. They were friends. Friends who occasionally make out. Friends who meet each other halfway across the world just to spend a few hours together. Friends who spends hours on the phone talking about nothing and everything they can.

Friends.

You gave Yuki the heads up that you would be at the race and it was safe to say Yuki was happy that you would be there. It's not often that someone is there to support him, what with his family and friends being all the way in Japan.

On the walk into the paddock, he was telling you about all the food spots he'd take you to and how he would take you to all the cool touristy spots you'd told him were on your bucket list.

Laughing, you insisted he didn't have to do all that for you and that you were happy just accompanying him on his day to day. Technically, this was vacation to you and you were more than happy to do next to nothing that weekend. You loved the kitchen, but it was so fast-paced that you often forget to catch a breath. This was your chance to take it easy and be there for Yuki.

Throughout the weekend, you saw a side of Yuki that was new to you. Laser-focused, tense, and determined. He wasn't just your friend Yuki, he was the athlete who had been thrust into new circumstances and was hellbent on proving everyone who doubted him wrong.

After the race, you were elated. He'd finished tenth in only his second race with the team.

After he got weighed, he jogged to meet you in the garage. "I'll be done in an hour. Meet me in my driver's room?"

"Sure. Congrats, Yuks. You did well out there", you said and went in for a hug.

You two were more or less the same height, but you always made a point of putting your chin on his shoulders.

As he jogged back to his PR manager, you headed to his driver's room. Truthfully, you were a bit overwhelmed by the entire formula 1 circus. Cameras everywhere, riches displayed as if they were nothing. It's as far away as humanly possible from your world. Where you wore chef's coats, paddock guests wore designer. Any time someone got even a bit close to Yuki's car, you winced. One of those times, you saw a camera zoom into your face in the garage. You only realized when you were watching the screen in the garage and quickly grew hot.

But, this was his world. And you sure as hell liked him, you knew that much. He dealt with your late night calls after strenous shifts. Your texts about conceited customers and their horrid attitudes towards your staff. So, you have to deal with the looks and murmurs of your place in his life. The cameras in your face regardless of if he was next to you or not.

Lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't realized that Yuki had entered the room and was changing out of his fireproofs.

"You good?", he asked you.

"Yeah. Just thinking", you replied.

"About?", he probed.

"You. Me. How different our lives are."

"Hmm. Wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not really. Won't change anything, you know?", you articulate.

"Yeah, but if it makes you feel better we can talk", he says while looking into your eyes with an unexpected tenderness.

"I don't feel bad. It's just...", you begin to say.

"A lot?", he offers.

"Yeah", you agree.

"We can have dinner and you can tell me more about what surprised you here", he says, reaching for your hands to lead you outside.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The next week you had a formal culinary training to go to in Monaco. You'd told Yuki you'd be there during the Grand Prix weekend but that you didn't expect for him to make any time in his schedule to hang out. You both had careers and they wouldn't go on pause for a rendezvouz between you two.

What you didn't expect was for him to call you in the wee hours of the morning asking to see you.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Where do you want to meet up, Yuks?"

"By Port Hercule. See you, baby", he said before hanging up a second later.

Baby. Friends can call each other baby, right? Yeah, totally. It's a very platonic nickname.

You quickly put on a sweater and a pair of sandals and made your way to the port.

Once you arrinved, Yuki turned his head around and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Baby, huh?", you jokingly questioned him.

"Oh. That..yeah. Guess it sorta slipped out", he said sheepishly.

"It's okay. You don't have to come up with any BS excuses with me, Yuks."

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed before you asked him, "Why'd you want to see me, anyways?"

"I don't know. I missed you. Wanted to be with you for a bit."

"Don't go falling in love with me, Yuks", you chuckled.

As you sat next to him on the bench, he reached for your hand. Without a second thought, you put your head on his shoulder.

You two were always like this together. Comfortable, touchy. Like you couldn't ever get close enough to the other.

Yuki had told you before that this was something special to you two. That he didn't really like physical touch with most people. You'd asked him why he was okay with holding your hand and hugs. He'd said that with you it wasn't so forced and "icky". You laughed but knew that you would hold that moment deep in your heart. Just like this moment.

chefyn has posted a new story

chefyn

yukitsunoda0511 very secretive

↳ chefyn hardy har har

sappari_rei chef has a bf?? DO TELL

↳ chefyn we are colleagues. keep it professional rei (no he is not my bf)

pierregasly is the individual pictured above 161 cm, japanese, and a formula 1 driver??? ↳ chefyn do not make me regret accepting your follow

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The season had admittedly not gone Yuki's way. From being thrust into Red Bull at a minute's notice to not performing the way he was at the junior team, Yuki needed a break. Desperately.

So, when he invited you to join him on his summer break you were happy to do so.

You'd asked him where you were going and he just told you to pack without worrying about all the small details, he'd have them handled. So, when you arrived at gate E10 and saw that your destination was Tokyo, Japan, you freaked. Internally.

For one, you'd always wanted to visit Japan. But, on the other hand you wondered if this meant something else. Even though you two weren't officially together, would you be meeting Yuki's friends? His family?

He'd told you this was a no pressure vacation, but c'mon meeting his family was pressure! Like being short-staffed on New Year's Eve level of pressure!

Regardless of your lack of official label, you two were exclusive. And you wanted to make a good impression on his loved ones...just in case things did get official.

While out at dinner at some ramen shop he loved, the unexpected happened. While you were rambling about the chashu's very technical preperation and how you would have to find a way to add it to the lunch rotation, he interrupted you and said, "Could i be your boyfriend?"

"Huh? What?"

"Sorry. Sorry, that was too sudden. It's just...we've been putting off the labels and I know you said you didn't want any pressure on our relationship. But I like you, Yn. I really like you. Can we be boyfriend and girlfriend?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak properly and not embarass the hell out of yourself, so you nodded and went in for a hug. He met you halfway and kissed the crown of your head.

The rest of your joint vacation was spent with Yuki flaunting you to his closest friends and family and you trying your hardest to not look flustered.

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by redbullracing, chefyn, and 800k others

yukitsunoda0511 summer break over ☀️🍜🇯🇵

back to the factory 🏎️

view comments ⬇️

yukiyukipodium oh someone taught him the art of the soft launch...

podiumthreatz why is nobody talking abt the girl in slide 3 and in ALL the food slides???2$/&

↳ hornersopp prob a friend. girl, chill

pierregasly yuki being aesthetic...she's changed you

↳ chefyn 😚

redbullracing onto 🇳🇱

chefyn looks like fun 🙃

↳ yukitsunoda lots of fun 😄

↳ redbullsecondseat not at all suspicious interaction...

redbullsecondseat and if i said that girl in slide 3 is @/chefyn what would y'all do?? ↳ yukigasly10 call you derranged and mentally unwell 🤨

↳ redbullsecondseat watch me be 100% correct

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"Cut, blanche, to the side", you murmured under your breath for the thousandth time today.

Tonight's shift was a night shift, meaning zero rest and no time for yourself. Family meal was a five minute ordeal consisting of scraps. No time for yourself also meant no time to text Yuki.

So, imagine your surprise when you're packing up to leave and see your boyfriend sitting at the nigiri bar.

"Yuks?!", you practically yell.

"Babyyyy", he says while pulling you into a bear hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you would be training this week before Baku.", you questioned him, voice muffled by his coat.

"I took this week off- well, the next two days off to be with you. What'd you say we go get dinner together?", he asks.

And so you spent your weekend off side by side with Yuki. Not a single moment spent apart. Your best friends said it was just the honeymoon period of it all, but you and Yuki were unwilling to spend any time apart when it was possible to spend together.

You two went on jet skis at the keys. You ate at the restaurant you'd tried for months to get a reservation to (even trying to pull some industry strings- just to fail altogether). Hell, you even were able to introduce Yuki to your cat, Miso.

yukitsunoda0511

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yukitsunoda0511 introducing us

tagged: @chefyn

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yukiyukiyuki wdym my bf whose not my bf but is totally gonna be my bf has a girl 💔😭

formulafanatic ok but yuki has GAME

↳ yukifan0511 IKR shes so pretty?

pierregasly sooo whens the joint restaurant opening?

↳ yukitsunoda0511 could you be cool for ONCE in ur life?

↳ pierregasly im french. we don't do cool.

yukisflatulence TOLD YA BITCHES 😂

↳ hadjarsbaguette even a broken clock is right twice a day 🙄

chefyn why does bro look good af here?

↳ yukitsunoda0511 i had to sort thru dozens of pics just for a BRO? LEAVEE

chefyn jk ! 🥰💗

↳ yukitsunoda0511 ❤️

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Before dating Yuki you'd known nothing about racing, much less Formula 1. But, now that your boyfriend is a racer your world had...not really changed, to be honest. Except that now you watch races live on a stupid subscription to understand what your boyfriend is frustrated about.

Oh. And you now get paddock passes to any race you want. As long as you let Yuki know so that he can set you up for the weekend.

Yet, since that sounds way too easy and simplicity is not your strong suit you decided to surprise him. You talked to Diego, Yuki's manager, and he was able to get you the paddock pass and access you needed.

Now, the only thing left is to be secretive enough to be able to surprise Yuki and hopefully brighten up his weekend.

The night before media duties Yuki called you at your usual call time. You talked for a bit before he started asking you what you'd be up to this weekend. "Oh, you know. Nothing. The usual", you choked your way through your very obvious lie.

"You're being weird. Anyway, will you be watching the race on Sunday?", he prodded further.

"Pfffft. Of course. I never miss a Grand Prix. Ya know me, Ms. Motorsport", you "inconspicuously" respond.

"Uh, ok-", he starts.

"Would you look at the time? Whew, it's late. Talk to you tomorrow, babe", you quickly hang up.

You release a long breath before flopping onto your hotel bed.

Little did Yuki know you would be watching the race. Just not at home.

Friday morning you met up with Diego at the paddock and got ready to surprise Yuki.

chefyn has posted two new stories

yukitsunoda0511 ??? pierregasly adding to my "yuki pookie" album 🥺

↳ chefyn just gonna pretend u didn't say that.

yukisbff i sent u this secretly not to blast to ur followers??

↳ chefyn but he looks so cute ☹️ and its funny af

yukitsunoda0511 UR HERE WTF

↳ chefyn SURPRISE ❤️💙

You knew it was a matter of minutes in which Yuki would find you. So, you decided to make it fun by hiding behind a tire rack.

Predictably, in two minutes flat Yuki had found you and accidentally tackled you to the ground in all his excitement.

"Love puddle, aren't they?", commented a mechanic.

Yuki couldn't be happier with you there. It was your second ever Grand Prix and it seemed like he was hellbent on making it the best race experience possible.

On Saturday, he qualified second- his career best starting position.

On Sunday, Yuki had the race of his lifetime. Lando in first fumbled the start and Yuki got away in the nick of time. After that, Red Bull's strategy secured Yuki his first ever career win.

With one lap left, Lando looked to be getting close enough to overtake when he locked up. Yuki accelerated and left him in the dust.

Over the sound of crowds cheering you could hear Martin Brundle yelling, "YUKI TSUNODA! THE BOY FROM ALPHA TAURI BECOMES HIS NATION'S FIRST EVER GRAND PRIX RACE WINNER!"

You'd known that one day he would do it, he would achieve his dreams. But, while you were there in the paddock? That was something unbelievable.

Once it was time for the podium ceremony, you pushed yourself to the front to watch the moment Yuki had only dared to fantasize about in the dark of your shared bedroom.

As his national anthem played, he looked down and you caught his eye. You blew him a kiss and he smiled wider.

In that moment, you knew. Maybe stupid job obligations were worthwhile. And the people they allow you to meet.

chefyn

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chefyn top of my roster (AND THE LAS VEGAS GP TIME SHEET!!! CONGRATS BABYYY)

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redbullracing race winner BF ☺️❤️

yukitsunoda0511 💙❤️ thank you baby

^❤️ by author

pierregasly first round tn is on me!!

↳ chefyn we are going out to dinner??? no??

↳ pierregasly fiiiiine. every round is on me 🙄🙄

↳ chefyn thats more like it

kikagomes babiesss ❤️❤️❤️

↳ chefyn kiks 💗💗💗

[beegalactica]

How to be an A* Student in 2025

2025 is the year of THE academic comeback, but it's not just a comeback, it's a full academic GLOW UP. The best part about these tips is that this is not meant to be short-term, this is meant to help you create long-term hot girl habits that will help you year after year after year.

Imagine being a student is like training in the gym: if you want to see long-lasting results, you don't go to the gym for a while and then drop off and get lazy, so why do we see studying as a long-term chore, when it's a long-term privilege?

So many people worldwide dream of having an education, but do we really want to waste it all by scrolling on social media and rotting in bed? I don't think so.

Get organised: Get your notes in order. Turn a subject topic into a cheat sheet or revision booklet. Update your notes after each class. Get your homework out of the way as soon as possible. Create a list of all your topics for each class and rate each topic Red/Orange/Green based on how confident you feel - when it's time to study, start with the red topics.

Create a schedule: If you like things being super organised down to the last detail, try time-blocking and schedule specific time slots to complete your tasks. If you like being more flexible and fluid, set subjects to focus on each day and write a rough to-do list (I set one main task per subject). Make sure you do the subjects that you hate more than you do the ones you like, revising is meant to be uncomfortable, that's how you train your brain and overcome challenges.

Stick to it: Use the Pomodoro technique if you struggle to sit down and start. Start on a 5-minute break to train your brain to slowly stop what you're doing and get started. I would recommend 25/5 repetitions but if you're like me and can deep work for hours with full concentration, do what works best for you but do not end up working for hours without breaks or water. Make sure you take breaks to move around, hydrate and rest your brain and eyes.

Just sit down to start: if you really struggle with procrastination, set up all your work, put your phone away, and just stare at your work - that always gets me to start working because I get bored.

Prioritise long-term gains: Top students focus on studying little and often rather than cramming the night before. This can be 1 hour a day for 5 days prepping for a test vs 5 hours the night before. If you have a period where you don't have any tests right then, but you know you have a long-term exam coming forward, why not spend just 15 minutes to make sure your notes are organised? Always think about the big picture. The topic might not be the most important thing right now, but you know it will be important in the final exam, so if you have some downtime, why not make sure you're confident in it?

Work-life balance: Whilst it's good to be an academic weapon, your social life doesn't have to suffer at the same time. This is why scheduling is so important - it helps you utilise your time efficiently, and limit how much time you waste trying to decide what to study, so you can have more time to spend on things you love. Dedicate 1 hour a day to something you love to do and make sure you do it!

Find what works for you: Experiment with different techniques. Just because one technique works for one subject doesn't mean it will work for another. Just because it works for even just one topic doesn't mean it will work for another. Don't be afraid to switch things up and curate your study habits to suit your tastes. Always remember - the only person it has to make sense for is YOU.

Let me know if you would like more tips or a more in-depth explanation about any of these! I am really passionate not only about education but also about how we can all harness it to become well-rounded people. I have also been a straight A/A* student my whole life so I have many tips to share!

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

How to expand your vocabulary (in an enjoyable way).

Self-Awareness

If you find yourself struggling to find the appropriate words to express yourself ,then you need to learn more words. If you are reading this article or you find the title interesting, then you are closer than you thought. You are simply self aware. Self awareness is the first step to muster the courage to pursue the art of language and communication. It dawned on me that I was verbally malnourished when I could barely find the words to describe the character I read in a novel. "So what was he like?" My curious friends will ask and all I could say was "he had a troubled childhood and it was evident in his lack of self-control." The sound of that description even troubled me. I knew there was more to his character, but I restricted by my literary scarcity. I still struggle with this but I am making daily efforts to improve. This article will be prescriptive and descriptive.

Execution

Read books, I mean read actively. I read books and I atke pride in it but I am a severely passive reader. I barely engage with the story, the character, or the author's attempt to challenge my prejudice or affinity for the character. My reading goal was to read as many books as possible, quantity over quality. By quality, I mean quality of my reading, not the books per se. Now, I read differently (and I only started this a month ago), I read prudently, making stops anytime I encounter an unfamiliar word. I include that in my vocabulary list on my Notes app. after about 10 words or so. I immediately find each words synonyms, two per word; one easy, one difficult. For example, Decrepit (derelict, neglected).

Use Chat GPT to create sentences for you in different context and practice with that.

3. Find ways to include your new learned words in your own way. If you work a 9-5, it may be helpful to customize your prompt to business/professional context, to be more applicable to you. But most importantly, create your own sentence structure. If you have a meeting, prep for it by using the words your learned, take notes as a guide to help you effectively convey your ideas. I learned "impetuously" recently and during a meeting with my manager she asked me to access myself based on my strength and weaknesses. I responded with "I tend to impetuously accept projects without understanding the deliverables and I end up being overwhelmed with the expectations." My point it make sure you use the context of your everyday life. If you are a humanities major, you might approach this differently.

4. Make it enjoyable. Think of each new word as a specific dollar amount. Then create a "verbal bank," the more words your learn the richer you become. Ecah word for me is valued at $50. I earn $25 extra if I can use it effectively in a conversation. It you learn 10 new words a week, you have made yourself $500. Deposit that into your verbal bank!

5. Record yourself saying this words. Try to actively recall them but through a conversation. Do 1-minute tests. Record yourself describing your day, giving a presentation etc Notice with words flow naturally, if you like go back to your vocabulary list and test yourself. by creating sentences.

6. Expand your reading. Well, I did say to read books and I would suggest to go beyond. Read articles (very well written ones) and when not reading, actively listen to podcasts and pay attention to how the host convey their ideas. You would notice that good writing or speech is not necessarily peppered with difficult words. Good writers is simple to understand because the authors make diffiuclt topics or esoteric topics digestible.

Emulatate & Practise

You simply just have to emulate. Copy the style & syntax of people you admire or respect for their speech or writing. Keep practising. It is a choice to improve or not. Don't hold yourself back. I am practising by writing as well and I have barely scratched the surface and I am sure you can tell by my writing. It is not sophisticated but I do hope to improve and you can to.

Excite yourself

You will come to find yourself smiling when you read a text with words no longer foreign to you. Words that were once distant and strange will eventually become a part of you. That is the best feeling ever, it's exciting.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Mental Healing with the Race

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Hey Guys, I just wanted to say I am still super sorry with every chapter that takes longer than I used to be to get them out. I asm currently in the middle of the last 2 weeks of college, so lots of studying and prep for our huge Final Projects or Tests. On top of that my FSAE team and I are prepping to leave for the Big Competition three weeks from now. However, I do not want any of my chapters to lack in the love and work that I put in to writing them. So I will do my best to try and get them out more regularly, but I will not post anything early or with any less love than the last one. So should they continue to take longer please remember this. No one has said anything about this but I still want to make sure that everyone knows I am not done with this story, just a little busy right now. With that said please enjoy...

The gym lights flicker on just before sunrise, humming low above my head like they’re still waking up, too. My hoodie is heavy with sleep and my shoulder twinges the second I shrug it off, revealing the newer, thinner brace beneath. It’s progress — less restrictive, easier to hide under my clothes — but it also means I’m out of excuses. The world thinks I’m still resting. But rest never made me stronger.

I roll out my mat in the same corner of the performance room as always. Familiar. Quiet. Grounded. Axel lays just a few feet away, head on his paws, eyes tracking my every move like he knows this day is going to be rough.

Because it is.

Today is cardio and strength. And no cast means full-arm weight again. It’s the first real milestone — a make-or-break kind of day.

I sit on the mat for a moment, my back pressed against the cool wall. My fingers find the scar on my forearm, tracing it absentmindedly. A reminder.

The crash didn’t defeat me.

"Alright, warrior,” Diego calls, stepping into the room and clapping his hands once. He’s grinning, but there’s a crease between his brows — the one that always shows up when he’s worried about me. “Scale of 1 to 10. Pain?”

I crack a tired smirk. “About a 4. Maybe a 5 when I raise my arm too fast.”

He raises a brow. “And how much of that are you downplaying to look cool in front of us?” Slightly nodding towards Axel.

I glance over at my dog, who immediately perks up like he knows he’s being talked about. “A solid 60 percent.”

Diego laughs, but he kneels down next to me, softer now. “Y/N, you’ve made insane progress. But we’re still building up. You don’t have to prove anything today.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, even though it’s a lie. “I’m just trying to… feel strong again.”

He doesn’t challenge me. Just gives a nod and offers his hand to help me up. “Okay. Let’s do this. But the moment I see that shoulder falter or your breath get shaky, we’re pausing. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The warm-up is fine. Easy even. Jogging laps around the indoor track with Axel trailing behind me like a shadow. My lungs are steadier than they’ve been in weeks. I feel… almost like myself.

Then we shift to shoulder presses.

“Let’s start light,” Diego says, passing me the small dumbbells — the baby ones, I tease in my head. I hate how small they feel in my hands.

“Come on,” I mutter to myself, planting my feet. “You’ve done this a thousand times before. Hell, you used to double this weight for warm-ups.”

“That was before your bones tried to throw a party and forgot to invite safety,” Nico pipes in from the corner where he’s leaning against a table, flipping through my training notes. “Let’s not reenact the crash scene here, yeah?”

I shoot him a look but secretly, I’m glad he’s here. He grounds me. Keeps me from letting the fire inside burn too hot, too fast.

I managed the first set. My form is shaky on the second. By the third, my shoulder screams. My breath catches.

Diego notices before I say anything. “Stop. Drop ‘em. Right now.”

I obey, lips pressed tight. My pride stings more than my shoulder.

“Sit,” he says, nodding to the bench. “Now tell me what your body’s saying.”

I slump onto the bench, sweat trickling down my spine. “It’s saying I’m not ready.”

He kneels again in front of me, tone low and honest. “No. It’s saying you need time. Which isn’t the same thing.”

Nico steps closer now too, crossing his arms. “You’re not failing by resting, Y/N. That’s the bravest thing you could do right now — listen.”

I exhale shakily, brushing my sleeve across my face. “I just… I don’t want them to worry. The boys. They were scared enough. If they knew I was training again, they’d—”

“—They’d be proud,” Diego finishes for me. “Because you're doing this smart. You're building up again. You’re not throwing yourself into a cockpit half-healed. You’re working for it. Quietly. Strongly.”

I don’t respond right away. Just nod and lean forward, elbows on my knees, eyes on Axel who’s still watching me with that serious, almost human stare.

“Just… don’t tell them yet,” I finally whisper. “Let this be mine a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico says, his voice softer now. “Your story. Your pace.”

“Besides,” Diego adds, grinning again as he hands me a bottle of water, “when you finally show up at the garage again and toss your helmet on like nothing happened, they’re gonna lose their damn minds.”

I chuckle. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

I pick the dumbbells back up before they can stop me. Not for another full set — just one more press. One more reminder that I can. I lift them once, clean and steady, before lowering them again.

“That’s enough,” Diego says gently. “Today, that’s enough.”

And for once… I believe him. Because I know I’ll be back again tomorrow. And the day after that. I’m not chasing the old me anymore. I’m building someone stronger.

—

I hadn’t realized how much I missed the scent of race fuel and burnt rubber until I stepped through the paddock gates again.

The buzz. The noise. The heartbeat of a track that never really goes quiet.

The second my shoe hit the pavement inside the circuit, it all came rushing back — that itch in my fingers to feel the steering wheel again, the thrum in my chest that didn’t hurt anymore but still pulsed with memory. I wasn't driving today — still under the "you're technically held together with sports tape and medical optimism" clause — but I was here.

That counted for something.

Nico was walking just to my left, sunglasses on, hands in the pockets of his black team jacket, looking every bit like my silent, slightly too-calm bodyguard. Meanwhile, Paul practically bounced beside me on the right, grinning like a rookie who’d been handed keys to a spaceship.

“I swear, I thought you were just a myth,” Paul said, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder. “They said ‘Ghost will meet with you before FP1’ and I was like, cool, should I also expect a unicorn and a sentient AI?”

My voice changer cracked slightly as I tilted my helmet toward him. “Sentient AI would be less chaotic than most of this team.”

Paul snorted. “And here I thought you were gonna be mysterious and intimidating. You’re… kind of hilarious.” I shrugged beneath my oversized hoodie. “Don’t get comfortable. I bite.”

“That would explain never taking that helmet off.” he said with an exaggerated look of fear. “Let me just go prep for my debut with the racetrack cryptid watching me from the pit wall.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Your job today is to not crash my car, Aron. It likes being pampered.”

“Anything else I should know?” he asked, just as we turned down the garage hallway.

I smirked under the helmet, then nudged him with my elbow. “Lots. Don’t downshift too hard into turn six — it’ll get twitchy. There’s a subtle bump on the exit of nine, trust your rear to hold but don’t overcorrect. And if you talk back to Diego during the debriefs, I’ll personally short-sheet your bed for the rest of the season.”

Paul stared at me, eyes wide. I tilted my head playfully. “What?” “That was… disturbingly specific. How do you even know about short-sheeting beds?”

“Because I’m creative and mildly vindictive.” Nico coughed — poorly disguised laughter — and muttered, “He learned it from Oscar.”

I pretended not to hear him and turned my attention back to Paul. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be on the pit wall the whole time, headset on, translating Diego’s feedback into ‘Paul Speech.’ He’s been dying to lecture someone other than me.”

“Oh great, I’m the replacement victim,” Paul said, mock sighing. “But really, thanks. This means a lot, Ghost. Being the reserve is weird — you never know when you’ll actually be used. I thought I’d be invisible.”

I reached up and tapped the visor of my helmet, voice softening through the modulator. “Invisibility doesn’t mean unimportant. You’ve got this.” He smiled then, really smiled. That bright, pure grin that reminded me so much of Jack it almost stung.

“Alright, cool,” he said, straightening his posture like he was trying to match the height of his moment. “Let’s go make you proud.”

“Oh, you’re already halfway there,” I replied. “You didn’t trip coming off the shuttle. That’s one more point than I had on my first day.”

“I knew you were a disaster once,” he laughed.

“Once?” Nico muttered beside us. “That implies improvement.”

“Rude,” I said flatly through the voice changer, flipping him off.

We turned into the garage then, the loud hum of tools and chatter dimming the second we stepped through the threshold. The mechanics looked up, a few nodding in recognition as I passed, others just giving me that respectful kind of glance — Ghost’s back. Even if I wasn’t driving, I was here.

Paul peeled off to go suit up. I took a breath, looking over at my car — technically still mine, even if someone else would be behind the wheel for FP1. It gleamed under the overhead lights, waiting.

My fingers twitched. Soon.

Nico said something, but I didn’t hear him — not really. Because just then, the gravity of being back settled in my chest. Not pain. Not fear. Just this warm, solid weight of home.

And I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding onto that until I let myself feel it again.

—

The hum of the garage had dulled to a low buzz after FP1 wrapped. Tools were put back in drawers, pit boards were stacked, and Paul was somewhere in the back being debriefed, grinning like a kid who’d just aced his first big test.

I stayed where I was on the pit wall, not wanting to really speak to the media or answer questions. I didn’t need to hide here. But, it still gave me that edge of comfort… a thin line between me and the rest of the world. Especially when emotions threatened to press a little too close to the surface.

“You looked good out there,” a voice said behind me — calm, familiar, warm.

I turned slightly, already recognizing Franco’s tone before my eyes landed on him. He gave me a soft nod, leaning his elbows against the barrier beside me, helmet tucked under one arm.

“I wasn’t out there,” I said, the voice changer wrapping my words in static.

He tilted his head, blue eyes sharp and quiet. “Didn’t say you were driving. I said you looked good out there.”

I paused. Then exhaled through my nose and pulled out the mic cord completely, letting it hang from the railing as I leaned forward a bit, matching his posture.

There was a moment of silence before I added, softer, “You know it hurt… at first”

He didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“It hurt a lot to sit here and not be the one buckling in. To know that the car — my car — was about to be driven without me. And that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fight it.”

My hands clenched slightly at the memory — the ache in my ribs still faint under the surface, the scar on my arm pulling a little under the hoodie.

“I kept thinking about how many races I might miss… how slow recovery’s felt. How I used to fly in that thing. And now I’m grounded. Watching. Coaching. Like I’m some kind of whisper in the background of my own team. Truly a ghost by name. ”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just reached out and tapped his knuckles lightly against mine — an anchor.

“But…” I said, slowly, breathing in deep. “Then Paul started talking. Asking me questions. Getting excited. Like… full-on spark-in-his-eyes excited. And I realized I could still be part of it. Just from here. From the wall. From the headset.”

I looked down at my gloves, flexing my fingers. “He listens. Like really listens. And seeing him figure things out… watching him light up after his first laps? I don’t know. It felt… right. Not perfect. Not the way I wanted to be here. But right… okay.”

Franco nodded once, voice soft. “You’re still racing. You never stopped.”

I looked at him.

He smiled faintly. “Just because you’re not in the seat doesn’t mean you’re not driving this thing forward. He wouldn’t be out there doing so well without your help. You’re shaping him. You’re shaping this whole team.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

My throat tightened a little behind the helmet. “I think… for the first time since the crash… I don’t feel broken being here. I feel like I still have a purpose. I want Paul to do well. I want him to prove himself. I want him to have the chances I had. And if I can help him get those… then maybe this isn’t all just pain and waiting.”

Franco reached up then and gently knocked on the side of my helmet. “That’s the champion mindset. And the good teammate mindset.”

He grinned. “Even with the scary voice mod.”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s for dramatic effect.”

“You’re terrifying,” he deadpanned. “Inspiring, but terrifying.”

We both chuckled, the kind of laughter that eases tension like a pressure valve finally letting go.

Then Franco leaned back and said quietly, “It’s okay to feel both, you know. The pain and the pride. You’re allowed to miss it. And you’re allowed to find joy in what you can do right now.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “For saying that.”

“Always,” he replied, and for the first time that day, I let myself take my helmet off — slowly — and just breathe.

He didn’t look surprised. He didn’t stare. He just offered a genuine smile, no different than the one he gave me when I was Ghost.

“You’ll be back in the car soon,” he said. “But until then? This version of you — the strategist, the leader, the teammate — is just as badass.”

I blinked at him, then smiled.

“Don’t tell Diego or Nico that. It’ll go to their heads, like some mother duckling they might pull me from my seat.”

Franco smirked. “My lips are sealed.”  I smiled back before following him back across the pit towards the garage. 

—

It was race day when the others finally found me.

Sure, they knew I was here. The media had caught glimpses of "Ghost" in the paddock all weekend, whispers and blurry photos circling online. But catching me for a real conversation? Actually pinning me down? That was a whole different challenge to them.

Until a very familiar flash of papaya orange caught me out.

I was tucked away in a quiet corner behind one of the hospitality buildings, sitting on a crate, sipping from a water bottle, my legs stretched out in front of me.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up — only to see a smirking Oscar Piastri standing there, arms crossed.

“Well, look who I finally found," he said, tilting his head at me with a grin. "Thought you were supposed to be taking it easy during your injury. Yet here you are. Hiding like a delinquent.”

I didn’t get a word in before he stepped closer, peering dramatically at me.

“I hope you at least have your brace on under that hoodie," he teased, tugging playfully at the sleeve. "Would hate to have to carry you back to the medical center and explain to the physios why you’re broken again."

I scoffed behind the voice modulator, batting his hand away. "Relax, Mum," I said dryly. "Brace is on. Doctor's orders. I’m being good."

Oscar chuckled, dropping down onto the crate beside me with a quiet oof, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.

"I dunno if sitting here in your emo corner counts as being good," he quipped. "But it’s good to see you. Missed you, you know."

I smiled — small, hidden — but it was there.

"Missed you too, mate."

We sat there for a beat, the sounds of the paddock — tools clanging, fans yelling, engines roaring in the distance — fading into a quieter hum around us.

"You look good," Oscar said suddenly, voice softer now. "Healthier. Stronger."

"Feel stronger," I admitted, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie. "Still a long way to go. Still can’t race yet. But it’s... better being here. Even if I’m not in the car."

Oscar nodded, watching me with that patient, careful look he only ever used when he dropped the sarcasm.

"I’m proud of you," he said simply.

Before I could say anything back — feeling dangerously close to getting a lump in my throat — another familiar voice floated over to us.

"There you are!"

I turned just in time to see Charles approaching, helmet in one hand, hair a little messy from pulling it off, suit half-zipped down. His face was lit up with relief, though there was a thin line of worry etched between his brows too.

"I have been looking everywhere," Charles said, crouching in front of us, resting his elbows on his knees so we were eye-level. "You are impossible to find sometimes, you know that?"

"Occupational hazard," I joked lightly, voice still crackling with the modulator.

Charles huffed a laugh, but then his gaze softened as he studied me.

"You are really here," he said, almost to himself. "And you are doing well."

"Trying," I said honestly. "It... wasn’t easy at first."

Oscar nodded beside me, nudging my arm. "But she's kicking ass. You should've seen her, Charles. Advising Paul like a damn pro. Ghost engineer era unlocked, I can’t wait to see what they can do during the race together."

Charles smiled — a real, warm smile — and reached out to squeeze my hand where it rested on my knee.

"I am proud of you, mon amie," he said. "More than you know. It takes a lot of strength to be here. To stay when it hurts."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing gently into my chest — not painful, not overwhelming. Just... steadying.

"I needed to be here," I whispered. "For the team. For myself. Even if it’s just helping from the wall. It feels like... I'm still part of it."

"You never stopped being part of it," Oscar said quietly.

Charles nodded, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. "And you never will."

For a moment, the three of us just sat there in the shade, the chaos of race day spinning on without us. It didn’t matter. It could wait.

Because here, hidden behind the noise, tucked into a small, forgotten corner of the paddock, I was reminded that even when I couldn’t drive, even when my body wasn’t at a hundred percent — I wasn’t alone. And that was enough. For now at least.

—

The race was chaotic.

From the second the lights went out, my heart thundered in my chest, the noise of the engines vibrating through the pit wall. I sat perched on a high stool right beside Diego, headset snug over my helmet, live feed on the monitors in front of me.

Paul's voice crackled through the radio — tight, a little anxious. His first F1 race. His first real chance. He'd qualified P14, and while it was a hell of a debut, he wanted more. We all did.

"Focus up, rookie," I murmured into the radio, voice softened by the modulator but still carrying the firmness I knew he'd hear. "Eyes forward. Breathe. You’re better than half the grid out there."

"Copy," Paul answered, clipped but trying to sound calm. I could hear the nerves anyway, layered under every word.

The first few laps were brutal — midfield battles that could turn ugly fast. Paul held steady, sharp and clean even under pressure. But he hesitated at key moments — lifting just a fraction when he could’ve pressed the attack.

"Car ahead is struggling with rears," I said, low and steady in his ear as Diego fed me data. "Watch him out of Turn 7. You’ll have him on exit."

A beat.

"Okay," Paul breathed. "Okay, Ghost. I trust you."

I smiled behind the visor, chest tight with pride.

And sure enough, two laps later, Paul slipped past in a beautifully patient move, climbing to P13.

The race ebbed and flowed, the pit stop cycle throwing chaos into the midfield. Every time Paul's focus wavered, I was there — guiding without overwhelming, steering him without grabbing the wheel.

"Car in front weaving under braking. He’s nervous. You stay clean. He’ll crack first."

"Brake balance forward two clicks. Save your fronts, we’re gonna need 'em later."

"Trust your exit speed. You’re faster in S2. He can’t stop you if you set it up early."

It was like music, almost — this silent, invisible dance we did together, woven between the roar of the engines and the crackle of the radios.

Lap by lap, Paul clawed his way forward. P12. Then P11.

When we hit the final stint, fresher tires on and the car lighter on fuel, Diego leaned toward me, excitement flashing in his eyes.

"One more position," he said into my private channel. "We get points."

I keyed my mic again, calm even though my heart raced like mad.

"Paul. Eyes up. P10 ahead. You are faster. You are faster. Stay close. Pressure him."

Paul’s breathing was heavier now, the strain of the race wearing on him, but he responded instantly. "Copy, Ghost. I’m on it."

I watched, fists clenched, as he chipped away at the gap — lap after lap, tenth by tenth.

Finally, into Turn 4, he made the move — bold, late on the brakes, perfect.

P9.

Inside the points.

The final few laps were a blur of adrenaline, shouting, encouragement.

When the chequered flag waved, Diego practically threw his headset into the air beside me, and I couldn't hold back the yell that ripped from my throat over the radio.

"YES, PAUL! YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT!" I screamed, voice cracking with pride and joy.

Over the team radio, Paul whooped, the pure exhilaration pouring out of him.

"OH MY GOD, THANK YOU, GHOST! THANK YOU!" he shouted, breathless. "I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!"

"You did that," I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt under the helmet. "You kept your head, you fought smart — you earned this, Paul. You earned every bit of it."

He was still yelling and laughing as he pulled the car into parc fermé, tires screeching slightly. The mechanics and engineers around us were clapping, cheering, and I stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed.

He did it. We did it.

I pushed through the crowd toward the car, heart hammering.

Paul barely waited for the car to cool down. As soon as he wrestled himself out of the cockpit, he tore off his steering wheel, slammed it into its mount, and sprinted toward me.

"Ghost!" he shouted, voice hoarse with emotion.

I didn't even have time to react before he threw his arms around me, nearly knocking us both off balance.

Our helmets clashed with a loud crack, making both of us stumble a little, but neither of us cared. Paul clung to me like a lifeline, arms tight around my back, helmet pressed to mine.

I wrapped my arms around him in return, gripping him just as hard, laughing breathlessly even as something in my chest squeezed and ached with pride.

"You absolute legend," I said, voice trembling. "I'm so proud of you, Paul. So, so proud."

He pulled back just a little, enough that our visors almost touched.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Ghost," he said again, voice thick. "You believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could do it."

"I knew it from the start," I said quietly. "You just had to see it for yourself."

For a moment, the noise of the world faded away — the shouting, the music, the celebration. It was just the two of us, standing there in the middle of it all, holding onto each other like it mattered.

And maybe it did.

Maybe it mattered more than either of us could say.

Masterlist

Taglist @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo @reiluvr @mymmyrym @ferrarisstrategy

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 5

SUMMARY: A casual day on set takes an unexpected turn when Glen brings his parents to the hair and makeup trailer. As you bond with them over shared interests and playful conversation, Glen watches with a fond smile, clearly pleased with how well you're getting along. Later, when Glen invites you to join them for lunch, the conversation flows easily, but Glen can’t escape a few embarrassing childhood stories his parents share.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4

WARNINGS: None. Just Fluff in this one!

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You step into the hair and makeup trailer, the familiar scent of hairspray and cosmetic products already filling the air. It’s early, but the trailer is quiet, the rest of the team having not arrived yet for the day. You move about the space, setting out your tools and products in preparation for Glen’s arrival. He’s due any minute, and though it’s become routine by now, there’s always a flutter of anticipation when you know he’s on his way. 

You glance in the mirror, making sure everything is in place, when you hear the door open behind you. But as you turn, ready to greet Glen, you notice he’s not alone. His warm smile spreads as he steps inside, flanked by two familiar faces—his parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., visiting him on set.

"Hey, hope you don’t mind," Glen says with a grin, motioning toward them. "Thought I’d bring some backup today."

“Not at all,” you smile as you look past him to see where his parents are. Their presence catches you slightly off guard, though not necessarily in a bad way.

He introduces you with a smile. "Mom, Dad, this is the makeup artist I’ve been telling you about," Glen says, gesturing to you.

His mom, Cyndy, smiles warmly as she steps forward. "It’s so nice to finally meet you. Glen has mentioned how great you are."

You exchange greetings, shaking her hand. Glen Sr. gives you a polite nod and a friendly, "Nice to meet you," before sitting on the nearby couch.

As you start prepping Glen's hair, Cyndy sits down nearby and strikes up a conversation. "So, how do you keep up with all these actors? I imagine you’re running around all day trying to keep them camera-ready," she says, laughing lightly.

You smile, nodding as you work through Glen's hair. "Yeah, it can get a little crazy, especially when the weather isn’t cooperating. But, I’ve been doing this long enough that I can manage a few stubborn heads of hair."

Cyndy chuckles and nods. "You sound just like me trying to wrangle Glen’s hair when he was younger. He had the curliest hair when he was younger. Honestly, his curls were a challenge. I learned so much about products just trying to keep it from looking like a bird’s nest!"

You can’t help but laugh, glancing at Glen through the mirror as you apply a little styling cream to his hair. 

"I can imagine. He does have a head of hair that keeps me busy," you say, playfully teasing.

Glen raises an eyebrow in mock offense. "Hey, I thought we were on the same team here," he says with a grin.

His mom rolls her eyes affectionately, clearly used to this kind of banter. "He’s always been fussy about his hair," she says, leaning closer to you. "You know, he used to let his sisters test makeup and skincare products on him.”

Glen Sr., who has been quietly observing, throws in a comment. "Yeah, Glen's always been particular about how he looks—don’t let him fool you. I’ve never seen anyone take so long to get ready for prom. He was taking this really cute girl he liked and he must have fixed his hair twenty times before she showed up."

Glen groans in mock embarrassment while you laugh with Cyndy and Glen Sr. It’s so easy and natural, and you start to feel completely at ease around his parents. The friendly dynamic between them makes it feel as though you’ve known them much longer than a few minutes. As you finish up Glen’s hair and makeup, you catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, watching the exchange with a soft smile.

"Alright, I think you’re good to go," you say, stepping back to inspect your work.

Glen stands and turns to his mom. "What do you think?" he asks, gesturing to his styled hair.

Cyndy nods approvingly. "I think you’re in good hands."

He meets your eyes for a moment, and there’s something unspoken but meaningful in the look he gives you. 

"I think so too," he says softly.

As Glen and his parents make their way out, Cyndy pauses by the door, turning back to you. "It was really nice talking to you. Hopefully, we’ll see you again before we leave."

You smile, feeling something like a mix of warmth and nervousness swirl in your chest. "It was great meeting you both."

As they head out and the door closes behind them, you feel the weight of what just happened start to sink in. Glen’s parents. Not just a casual meeting—but a glimpse into the world of someone who’s beginning to feel a lot more significant to you.

A few hours pass, and you move through the rest of the morning on set with a steady pace, trying not to think too much about your earlier interaction with Glen and his parents. 

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re back in the trailer, scrolling through the DoorDash app, absentmindedly debating between a sandwich or sushi when your phone buzzes with a text.

Glen: "Hey, do you want to join me and my parents for lunch? We’re heading to this restaurant a few minutes away."

You stare at the message for a moment, feeling a slight flutter in your stomach. Lunch with Glen and his parents? It seems casual enough, but something about the invitation feels… different. After a brief pause, you type back a reply.

You: "Sure, sounds fun. Where should I meet you?"

A few minutes later, you're on your way to the restaurant, mentally preparing yourself to be around Glen’s parents again. 

When you walk into the restaurant, you’re met with warm smiles from both Cyndy and Glen Sr. as you approach the table. Glen stands and gives you a small, friendly hug before he pulls out a chair for you, the gesture making you feel even more welcome.

The restaurant itself is laid-back, the kind of place that feels homey and easy, with rustic wood tables and simple decor. As you sit down, the conversation picks up naturally. Glen’s parents are charming, easy to talk to, and it quickly feels less like a formal lunch and more like spending time with friends you’ve known for years.

The conversation is peppered with casual jokes and stories, and soon enough, Glen becomes the focus of a few playful teases.

"So," his dad starts with a knowing grin, "did Glen ever tell you about the time he got stuck trying to climb out of his bedroom window?"

You turn to Glen, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but he groans, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Dad. Please don't," he says, though you can tell he’s being a good sport about it.

His mom, clearly delighted, jumps in. "He thought it’d be a good idea to sneak out to see a girl when he was sixteen. Climbed out the window but got his foot caught in the gutter. I’ve never heard someone yell 'Mom!' so loud in my life!"

You can’t help but burst into laughter, and Glen, though slightly embarrassed, can’t help but laugh along with everyone else. 

"I was young and stupid," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but there’s a good-natured smile on his face.

Throughout the lunch, you notice little things—how Glen keeps glancing your way when his parents speak to you, as if trying to gauge how you're feeling, or how his hand brushes yours briefly as he passes you the salt. The atmosphere is light and comfortable, yet there's something deeper simmering beneath the surface. It’s the way Glen is with you—always aware of your presence, always making sure you're included.

At one point, his mom turns the conversation toward you. "So, how are you liking it on set? It must be exciting, working on a film like this."

You smile, taking a sip of your water before responding. "It’s been a lot of fun. There’s definitely a lot of running around, but the whole cast and crew have been really great. It doesn’t really feel like work most days."

"I’m glad to hear that," Cyndy says warmly, then leans in slightly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Glen’s been talking about you a lot, you know. Telling us all about how talented you are."

You glance at Glen, who immediately groans and rubs a hand over his face. "Mom, seriously?" he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But you find it kind of adorable, the idea that Glen has been talking about you to his parents. You meet his eyes, and there’s a shared moment of understanding—something unspoken yet clear in the way his gaze softens when he looks at you.

You smile, giving Cyndy a grateful look. "Well, I’m flattered."

As lunch wraps up and the four of you head back to set, the dynamic between you and Glen seems to have subtly shifted. There’s more ease, more awareness of each other. Glen walks beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both chat quietly about the upcoming scenes for the day.

While Glen’s parents walk ahead, you catch him glancing over at you a few times, something tender in his expression, as if he’s just starting to realize something. Maybe it’s the way you got along so well with his mom, or how effortlessly you fit into this part of his life that he usually keeps separate from work. Whatever it is, the thought lingers in his mind, settling deep as he realizes that this—whatever it is between you two—is becoming more important to him.

The conversation between you and Glen is light, but the feeling of something growing between you is undeniable. And as you part ways to get back to work, there’s a weight to the goodbye—a lingering thought that perhaps this connection is becoming more than just casual, more than just friendly. Glen’s smile lingers a little longer, his gaze a little softer, as he watches you walk away.

[goodlucksnez]

The Trials and Tribulation of Telemachus

This started a idea of Tel/emachus trying to battle while sick, and then I just ran with it. And 6.5k words later here we are!

this is a snz fic read at your own discretion

this is 5 chapter so it is broken up! enjoy!!

(also if you do not know theo/clymenus (Theo) is a seer in the odyssey so a lot of people have hc that he is in a relationship with Telemachus)

(Do NOT reblog to non-kink blogs, THANKS!!!!)

Chapter 1

Telemachus’ only thoughts during this moment were why? He stood in line with the other competitors waiting to get prepped for the arena.

‘This was part of the tradition of the games’ Telemachus thought to himself as he saw his spot in line get closer to the changing rooms. He could smell the oil from outside the room.

‘The scent is pleasant enough. A combination of floral scents and there was something else, maybe pine or fir.’ He thinks as he takes another step closer to the curtain.

Telemachus heard a voice call from behind the curtain. He stepped forward a lump in his throat as he pulled the curtain back. The small room was lit by the open windows. There were multiple vases on a table, covered in a fine red tablecloth, but more importantly, he saw the barrel of dust.

He looked for the sound of the voice but could see no one. It was at this moment he felt her by her side.

“Athena.” He whispered.

Athena smiled. Just like his father Telemachus could always sense her presence. She smiled and spoke her voice, melodious and comforting.

“It is finally time. All the training we have been doing is for you. For you to be my champion; to win my games! They will sing your names for years to come. Telemachus prove yourself here and now surrounded by enemies and foes that you are my champion.”

He blushed. She had always been righteous, so focused on his perfection that sometimes she forgot his humanity. As she gathered the oil, she noticed the frown and concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Telemachus, not wanting to tell her the truth, lied.

“I don’t want to let you down. You spent so much time and energy training me to be this champion and what if I let you down; what if I lose?”

Athena moved to his side placing a hand on his shoulder. He always had these kinds of thoughts before any big challenge but eventually would pull through.

She spoke. “You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you practicing day and night. You are strong. You’re healthy.”

It was at this moment that Telemachus's body decided to betray him as he felt an itch in the back of his nose. Athena continued to sing his praises he silently hitched trying not to ruin this moment. The sawdust in the air made him feel like he was choking. Every breath he took was igniting the tickle in his nose. As Athena finished her speech and looked down to see her champion, he bent at the waist and sneezed loudly enough to even startle her.

“Ahh’TTSChh’hIIEWW!!”

“Bless you.” She spoke. She had become accustomed to this. Telemachus was not weak in any sense of the word, but he did have a fragile humanity about himself. After a while, Athena had to start carrying tissues and handkerchiefs to target practice with the number of times he sneezed from the hay.

And if he was sick, she had to take him home multiple times over the years. So sneezing wasn’t anything new but as she looked around the room, she didn’t see anything that would cause this. She held him near her, placing her hand on his forehead testing to see if it was warm.

“You’re not getting sick? Because you know how I feel about you working when you were sick?” Her voice took on a stern but parental nature.

“No.” He said as he slowly rose his nose dripping. He pointed over to the barrel. “I think it’s the sawdust that must’ve gotten in my nose.”

She sighed. “Telemachus, I haven’t even begun to cover you yet if you’re reacting like this, just from being near it, how are you going to-”

He put a hand up to stop her. “I am your champion. I can handle a little dust.”

She rolled her eyes and thought in her head. ‘Well, these games certainly got more interesting.’

He recovered sniffing wetly as he approached the table with the oil. He grabbed the oil and slowly started applying it carefully trying not to stain his armor. It felt nice, but he had always questioned this part of the games.

“Why do we do this? I mean wouldn’t it be more effective if we just were wearing armor or helmets while,” he pauses, and his breath began to hitch. “Why do we do this?” He sneezed, harshly again.

 “Ahh’TSCHhh’HIHh’uh!”

“Bless you. We do this to protect yourself. While your armor protects your most vital organs. The sun can damage you.” She continued. “It also protects against rashes and burns.”

He rubbed his nose on his wrist before continuing.

“I don’t think covering oneself in oil-” he paused as he hitched, but soon his breath went back to normal, and he sniffed. “And using brick dust and sawdust is a good measure to combat the sun.”

“Well, when you come up with a better idea, be sure to bring it to the god's attention. I’m sure Helios would love to have a chat with you.”

He sniffed urgently and his gaze started to become unfocused. She had seen this look on him multiple times throughout their years of training and fighting together. She walked over, grabbing the discarded handkerchief, that he had just thrown on the ground, quickly covering his nose as his breath came to a crescendo.

“Hut’SCHH’ihh! n’TSHCHH’hihehh! TScHHZHHHtT!!”

She caught the sneezes in the handkerchief and instructed him to blow his nose. She found that that seemed to be the only thing to calm his fits. Otherwise, he’ll be sneezing for hours.

He always blushed every time Athena took care of him like a little kid. He wanted to prove himself to her. Not be treated like a small child. Hell, he was old enough to go to war and fight in these games. He was old enough to blow his damn nose. Even so, a small part of him enjoyed that she was always there to take care of him.

He smiled. “Thank you, Athena. We should probably get this going, the sooner it’s over the better.”

She nodded. “I’ll try not to get your face.” She grabbed the bucket sawdust spilling over the sides onto the ground, creating a small plume of dust that sifted into the air.

Telemachus took a deep breath and held it waiting for this to be over. She slowly applied the dust covering to his arms, then his chest, and lastly his back. She thought to herself ‘he’s doing a pretty good job holding his breath. He might survive this.’

Reassurance failed when he exhaled and took a deep breath. Immediately she knew this wasn’t going to end well. His body became rigid, tears sprung to his eyes and his nose twitched. He brought a hand up to rub at it, but she smacked it away.

“Don’t think about it. Your hand is covered in dust. You need to wait for it to dry before you can touch your face.”

He nodded, unable to form words for fear, and once he opened his mouth he would start sneezing. His nose began to run, as well as his eyes, tears streaming down his face. He opened one eye cautiously before immediately sucking in a deep breath and bending forward at the waist, harshly sneezing.

“Huh… TZSCHHH’ihh!”

Athena was going to bless him, but another deep inhale made her wait. He sneezed harshly again his whole body being thrown forward. He took a few steps and caught himself on the table in the room. He leaned on it, panting, his nose dripping, causing small droplets to fall on the oak table.

She went to the other side of the table, lifting his chin with her hand and surveying the damage. His nose was an absolute mess, dripping onto his upper lip. His eyes streaming. The worst part was he didn’t look like he was done. His face contorted and he scrunched up his nose, trying to scratch, at the itch that wouldn’t go away.

She pressed the handkerchief to his nose and waited. Not before long his breath became erratic, and he sneezed wetly, destroying the handkerchief within three sneezes.

“Ulchh… Ah’TschhHHH’uh! Hh’ahtSchHHuh! ‘TscHHHuhHh!!”

She wiped his nose gently for him as he slowly began to regain his breath. She waited a moment before speaking.

“Is it safe now to bless you?” she asked.

He replied, his voice was thick with congestion. “I think so. I don’t know if my nose could take anymore.”

“I’m surprised you’re still standing after that display. I would’ve wanted to sit down.” He looks at her. His eyes were red around the edges and his mouth parted, indicating he couldn’t breathe through his nose. “I don’t have time to sit if you have forgotten I must prepare for combat.”

Suddenly images crossed her mind. The arena field, sounds of metal clashing, splitting of wood, and a scream. Red flashed in her mind. She felt her heart quicken, and she looked down at Telemachus.

“Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw? There is always next year. No one would be mad if you did... I can’t see you get hurt.” She stammered.

Telemachus straightened and sniffed deeply. “I can prove myself here and now Athena. I will prove to everyone I am not weak. I am strong. I can be your champion.” Before she could say another word. He threw his cape around his shoulders and turned and fled through the curtains.

 Athena could only pray that he would survive.

Chapter 2

Telemachus heart pounded in his chest, matching the beating of the drums. He held his sword in his hand and his shield strapped to his other arm. He slowly approached the entry to the arena. The wooden door that separated the hallway to the outside world was all that stood between him and his destiny. The horns blared and Telemachus swung the door open and stepped out into the arena.

As his eyes adjusted to the sun he surveyed the landscape around him. A simple baren patch of earth with various obstacles in the way. A few barrels, one overturned cart.

 ‘A good place to get a height advantage’ he thought to himself. Then Telemachus saw something that made his heart sink. Bales of hay neatly stacked. Now being in a farming village, he was no stranger to hay. It was a wildly used material. Both as food and for building.

However, Telemachus was not a fan of it. From a young age when he interacted with hay he found himself with itchy eyes and his nose would run. As he matured he made a point of avoiding the substance all together. But since it was wildly used in construction that was not always possible.

He stepped into the stadium with his footsteps silenced by the roar of the crowd. His eyes locked on the other side. His opponent was tall and muscular. His hair was black and slicked back into a ponytail. He branded a sword and shield and moved to his place in the center. One shared look. That was all it took to know he was wildly outmatched. The crowd chanted around them. ‘Nikoloas’. The name of his opponent. Telemachus shut out the distraction of the crowd, and the world contracted to one twenty-five-foot circle and one cloakless man with a sword two sword-lengths away from him.

He dropped into a light crouch and stood motionless, just waiting. His sword was still. Every movement, every breath and shift and toss of wind about Nikolaos became a thing to watch, an indication of where the next attack would come, where his next attack should strike. Where his target was going be in the next instant of battle. Only the tiny part of the world they inhabited at this moment mattered. Nikolaos was pacing, his sword already in restless motion, in stark contrast to him as he traced roving loops with the point and entirely ignored the noise and people around them in order to focus solely upon him.

They had already agreed there would be no rituals, no salutes or gestures before they started--battle began when one of them chose to attack, which allowed for the unpredictability of combat. It could begin now, or after five minutes of feints, or in the middle of conversation, if one of them decided to start talking at some point. Which would have been an enticing option, if it weren't for the fact that Telemachus nose was threatening to run.

Nikolaos stepped forward, blade swinging in a mock offense, an experimental probe into motion. Telemachus launched straight into the attack. Left, right--he twisted away, jumped back, closed in for the attack again and then reversed once more. Simply avoiding Nikolaos's quick parry, he slipped in on his other side for a feint, and as he dodged the attack and responded he took his downswing on his angled blade, sending it skidding away. Amidst wild shouting from the onlookers, they both backed off, breathless and scowling grimly at each other. First engagement, first flurry of blows, and both had played it relatively safe. This fight would go on until one of them scored a disabling blow--at this rate, it would last until sundown. Someone yelled a comment to this effect, and neither of them acknowledged it, although Telemachus grimaced fully at Nikolaos. He intended to win this fight if it took him until sundown. Nikolaos swung his sword in a small flourish opposite him.

Nikolaos prowled sideways and attacked, pounding at his guards. Telemachus warded him off with tight defenses, went on the counter-offensive the moment he had an opening, then disengaged and backed off. He was shifting around him, forwards and backwards and sideways, always in motion, his sword weaving in a near-random pattern and his shifting gaze scanning for openings as he turned in place to match his orbit.

The moving sword was a distraction and a deflection tactic nearly useless in pitched battle, but excellent for masking intentions in single-combat. It could even be slightly hypnotizing on occasion. The reverse tactic, of course, was simply to wait, poised, sword angled in a basic defense position, and remain as motionless and ready as possible, and that was what Telemachus had chosen to do.

It was more difficult; the energy and adrenaline generated during battle ensured that standing still was the last thing anyone wanted to do, but it could also be subtle, confusing, and frankly vicious when one did finally explode into action. The attack could come from anywhere, and there could be a lethal amount of backed-up energy in play. Enough energy, actually, to make anyone careless...no doubt Nikolaos, who knew that as well as he did, was already expecting him to overexert himself in the next attack. Telemachus transitioned into a spring as he swung his sword back around for a waist-level attack, and now they were so close together they were beyond effective sword-blade range. His weapon caught Nikolaos's on the hilt as they closed to within arm's reach. And clearly they both wanted the other down more than they were worried about going down themselves. Nikolaos slid his sword down from his hilt, aiming at Telemachus legs. He lunged sideways to avoid it. He drove forward. In the resulting tangle, Nikolaos's sword drove into his left leg, and he trapped his sword hand between his side and his arm, wrenching it in sideways and hacking at his neck. He ducked and rolled into him before he could land a good blow, sending them both to the ground into the hay.

Telemachus rose quickly from the ground trying to brush off the hay that was stuck to him. As he did so Nikolaos attacked. Telemachus barely had time to bring his shield arm up to defend. The blow was strong, and Telemachus bent at the knees. His eyes had become a watery mess and soon he knew he would not be able to see at all. But in the moments before blindness, he did see an opportunity. He gathered all the strength his legs would allow and stood up. Knocking Nikolaos out of the way and swinging his sword around he felt the impact hit and the cry of his opponent. Horned blared and Telemachus sighed before inhaling and bending at the waist.

“Ahh’TscHHHI’Uew! ‘TtschHHUhh! ‘Hah’tSchHHih’hHEWW!!”

He dropped the sword and blindly fumbled with the straps of the shield before he felt arms around him. His adrenaline spiked and he resisted. A familiar voice catches his ear over the sound of his own heartbeat and crowd.

“Relax its just me!”

Theoclymenus. Theo was here! Telemachus strained his neck to try to see him, but the effort was futile. The combat had left him drained. He barely had any energy at all. Which is why he wasn’t surprised when he sneezed harshly and didn’t cover.

“Hut’SCHH’ihh! n’TSHCHH’hihehh!....Ahh’TTSChh’hIIEWW!!”

He felt his partner laugh, a comforting sound before he was set down on a hard surface. He ran his hands over the material. It appeared to be wooden. He tried to rub his eyes, but it just made them water more. He whined as his breath began to hitch again. Could this day get any worse he thought to himself.

A moment later he found out it could. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bucket of ice-cold water poured over his head. The shock is instantaneous. Telemachus body tenses up, and a gasp escapes his lips as the freezing water hits his skin. It's a jolt to his body—like an electrifying wake-up call that sent shivers down his spine. His heart races, and for a moment, it's all he could think about.

He sat there shivering but managed to open his eyes. It took a minute for the surrounding area not to be blurry, but he saw he was in some kind of alcove. There were all types of supplies and weapons. He decided this was a chamber for extra supplies for the games. He went to speak but was immediately hit with another bucket of water pouring over himself. He coughed and spat out some water. Shivering as the cold seeped into his bones.

“Theo what in the five rivers of hell are you doing!”

“Trying to not have my boyfriend asphyxiate because he touched a single stalk of hay!”

Telemachus tried to retort back but the exhaustion from the fight and everything caught up to him in a moment and he put his head in his hands and within moments darkness overtook him.

Chapter 3

The first thing Telemachus feels when he regains his consciousness is pain. Everything hurt.  Telemachus winced as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his side. His body ached with the memory of the battle fought just hours before. Every muscle protested as he tried to sit up, the bruises and cuts a cruel reminder of the fierce clash.

He took a deep breath, feeling the sting of his injuries with every inhale. The scent of blood and sweat still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the herbs used to dress his wounds. Telemachus hand instinctively went to his side, fingers brushing against the rough bandages that bound his ribs. He could still hear the echoes of clashing swords and the roar of the crowd in his mind.

With a groan, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the cold, unforgiving floor. The room was silent now, a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena. He glanced around, taking in the sight of his armor, dented and bloodstained, lying in a heap in the corner.

Telemachus knew he couldn't afford to rest for long. He pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. As he moved towards the window, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the cracked mirror. The face staring back at him was a sight to behold. His hair was caked in sweat and dirt. His eyes were bloodshot. As he stood in front of the mirror he heard sounds of pottery being moved. He turned quickly to see Theo existing from a small archway. As their eyes met Theo face lit up in a bright smile and he rushed forward wrapping his arms around Telemachus in an embracing hug.

“You scared me! Do not ever do that again!”

Telemachus could hear the pain and longing in Theo's voice. He wanted more than anything to promise him he would be safe. But he was unsure. The creeping suspicion that danger was still coming for him clouded his mind.

Telemachus spoke his voice cracking “My prophet, I wish more than anything I could promise you, but my life is a little bit dangerous!”

Theo hugged him tighter, and Telemachus winced. “Darling you are crushing my lung here!”

Theo realized his grip and he looked up into Telemachus eyes. Telemachus smiled down at him. Theo was the shorter one in their relationship, so it was common for Theo to stand on his toes to see or kiss his face. Telemachus went to speak but his breathing hitched, and he found himself bending forward and sneezing into Theo shoulder.

“Ahh’TTSChh’hIIEWW!!”

Theo jolted at the sudden harsh sneeze in surprise and stammered out. “Bless you.”

Telemachus recovered, sniffling, wetly before responding, his voice thick with congestion.

“Thanks, must be the hay.”

He said he thought it was a convincing lie, but judging from the raised eyebrow from Theo, he didn’t believe it to be such. Theo spoke in a soft but concerned tone. “I think you might be catching a cold. If you haven’t already. I know how hard you’ve been working for this tournament….for these games but you are human. You are immortal you know that right?” Telemachus nodded. Slowly there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that repeated the word mortal mortal mortal repeatedly. Wiping his nose on his arm, leaving a trail of mess behind he started to respond.

“Theo. I have to win these games she is counting on me.” “I’m sure she would understand. I don’t think she wants you to die.” Telemachus rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die from a cold. How weak do you think I..” he pauses as his breath begins to hitch. Theo, knowing what’s about to happen reaches up and covers his nose with his hand, catching the sneezes as they rock his body forward.

“Hihh…Hhh’kssSHHhh! HhHuuh..Huhh’tCHSHhh! Eiihh…eiihH’tCHSHhhuu!" 

He felt each damp blast spray the inside of his palm, his expression shifting from a grimace to sympathy as Telemachus pulled back with a miserable sounding sniffle.

“Bless you I don’t think you’re weak, but I do think you’re sick. And this” he says, wiping his hands discreetly on his pants. “Shows that. Plus, you said it yourself. Please don’t compete. You won the first challenge that's enough for her.” Telemachus tried to believe him, but after everything he had put forth for this, there was no way he was backing out now. He coughed, wincing as his torso twined in pain. He took a deep breath through his mouth, unable to through his nose, and replied. “I’ll see you at the beach. I’m going to win.”

Without saying another word, he turned, grabbed his helmet and discarded armor in the corner, and left the recovery area stepping out into the sun. He shivered, sending a quick prayer to Athena. Praying for his strength in the upcoming race and started the walk down to the local beach to compete in the swim relay.

The sun hung low over the Ionian Sea, casting a golden hue over the landscape. Telemachus wrapped his arms around his body and made his way slowly down the path towards the beach. His steps were unsteady, each one a battle against the fever that burned within him. The air was filled with the scent of salt and the distant cries of seabirds.

As he reached the edge of the beach, Telemachus paused as his breath began to hitch.

“Don’t —Hh…hhhiihh...Hhhiiihhh! Hhh—“TschH’HIH’HEWW!! ah’TSCHhih’Heww!! ‘Ahh’TSCHhh’HIHh’uh!”

Telemachus wobbled with the force of the sneezes and put his arms out to steady himself. As he took a step he felt her next to him.

“I know what you are going to say” he whispered to the salt air.

Athena smiled. “Telemachus you do not need to do this; you can still win if you don’t compete there are multiple tiers of this-”

He interrupts her. “Athena you never back down from a fight why-  ihh…hehH…o-ohh c-come ohh–n “HhNgktsCHH’IHHWw! HhdtsHHIHww!!-iSSCHHhihhww!!…HH! IH!…IIh--'tsschHHiEHHww!”

“Bless, you do not sound well.”

“I am fine Athena I could do this in my sleep,” he said sniffingly before continuing onto the beach.

The sand was warm beneath his feet, and he could feel the energy of the earth seeping into his bones. He walked slowly towards the water's edge, each step a triumph over the weakness that threatened to overwhelm him.

The sea was calm, its surface glittering like a million tiny diamonds. Telemachus knelt and cupped his hands, scooping up the cool, clear water to splash onto his fevered face. The sensation was like a kiss from the gods, a brief respite from his suffering. He sat down on the sand, allowing the waves to lap gently at his feet.

In the distance, he could see the silhouette of a small boat, its sails catching the last rays of the sun. He just had to make it there and back before anyone else. He looked around at the competition. Most were drinking or stretching a few were in silent prayer. As he returned his look to the ocean his nose started burning with the need to sneeze. He ducked his head between his legs and sneezed, a wet and sickly sound, that seemed to echo off the cliffs surrounding the beach. He soon heard a few whispers of health, and he kept his face lowered, embarrassment heating his checks.

Then lined up at the starting line.

Chapter 4 (switching pov to theo)

'Wait Telemachus don’t go' the words barley left his mouth before Telemachus was gone. Theoclymenus stood in both amazement and frustration, still in the recovery chamber. Why couldn’t he just listen to him!

Telemachus was always known for pushing himself. The hypothesis was that he got it from his father. Both men didn’t know when to quit, admirable in some and stubborn in others.

Theoclymenus grabbed a few supplies, packing them in a satchel before heading outside into the bright sun. The path down to the water wasn’t exactly a hard terrain, but Theoclymenus‘s mind wandered, making him walk slower.

What if he got hurt? There was no way he could swim; he could barely stand without wincing! How is he going to accomplish this? Theoclymenus had always been a bit of a worrier. He believed it was due to his ability to be a seer. His father is Polypheides and he comes from a family of seers and prophets.

He continued his trek down the mountain to the beach. He paused when he saw the curly hair of Telemachus at the junction of the beach and the walkway. He was standing looking out into the sea the wind whipping his hair. It was almost peaceful until the lanky brunette sneezed. The sound rebounded off the caves and rocks that surround the small beach. Theoclymenus whispered a small blessing and then two more as he doubled over again.

His heart yearned as he saw the brunette stumble and he protectively reached out a hand to him. But Telemachus shook his head and kept walking leaving sandy footprints in his wake.

Theoclymenus watched as Telemachus joined the others at the starting line. He wasn’t seriously going to consider racing!!

The boat, which was a halfway point was 50 yards and then another 50 yards to get back there was no way he could swim that. He sat with the other spectators, his eyes focused on Telemachus. His heartbeat quickened as he saw Telemachus's body convulse.

At the sound of the horns, he saw him dive into the water, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Watching the other swim out was going slower than the others. His movements dragged against the waves that lapped against him. He saw a couple of times he would flip onto his back, probably as a retrieve to let his muscles relax. When he got to the boat, he saw the others hall him up. He was afraid his heart was going to burst watching the scene unfold.

Theoclymenus had not realized he had started to move closer to the water edge until a hand from a guard stopped him. He looked in horror as Telemachus continued and jumped back into the water. Theoclymenus couldn’t help it he calls out to him in a desperate plea.

“Please let me help him. He’s going to die.”  He yelled into the wind. The wind took his words, twisting and turning and let it fall upon deaf ears. Others had already finished and were celebrating their victory, but all the noise was drowned out for Theoclymenus.

His eyes focused, his breath coming in short breaths, and then the movement from Telemachus stopped. Without thinking he pushed back past the guard, ignoring how he was gripped from behind, ripping his shawl and wadding into the water. The water was ice cold. The freezing temperature sent shockwaves into his body. He didn’t care; he had to get him he had to save him. As he approached the man who was treading water weakly, he grabbed his arm. He was not a trained athlete and was struggling but he felt so much power in his stroke. And hauled him onto the shore.

Telemachus clung to him, his body trembling with exhaustion and illness. As they reached the beach, Theoclymenus gently laid his head down on the soft sand, his eyes filled with worry.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked, brushing wet strands of hair from his face.

Telemachus nodded weakly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m...I’m sorry, Theoclymenus. I thought I could handle it.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “You’re safe now. Let’s get you home and take care of you.”

Telemachus nodded and his eyes shut.

Chapter 5

Theo stirs from his slumber, nestled beside his beloved, Telemachus. The warmth of their entwined bodies creates a cocoon of comfort beneath the linen sheets. The cool morning breeze slips through the open window, carrying the fragrance of blooming jasmine and the distant murmur of the Ionian Sea.

Theo's eyelashes flutter open, revealing the soft blue of his eyes as he transitions from dreams to the waking world. He stretches his limbs carefully, mindful, not to disturb Telemachus’ sleep.

With a tender touch, Theo brushes a strand of hair from Telemachus’ face, feeling the warmth of his skin against his fingers. He thinks to himself. ‘He does have a fever.’

His breath is short and seems labored. Theo slowly rises from the bed, careful not to disturb the prince. He makes his way out of the room. He goes to the mason to fill a few pots with water. He dips the pot into the water watching the ripples and his reflection. A sudden scream jolts him. He looks around for the source, but the sound is coming from…the prince's room. The pottery is forgotten as Theo sprints up the stairs his heart pounding. He runs into the room.

Telemachus is sitting straight upright in bed looking around the room franticly. His eyes are stained with tears and choking sobs escape him.

Their eyes meet and Telemachus clutches his chest. “You left me…you left me alone.”

Theo crosses the room in a few strides. Wrapping Telemachus in a protective hug. “No love I did not leave, I will not leave you. You have a fever, you do not know what you are saying.”

Telemachus continued to cry, his broken sobs echoed in the room. Theo rubbed his back whispering small comforts. Eventually, Telemachus’ exhaustion caught up to him and he slumped against Theo. Theo positioned him to lie on his chest. Telemachus' cries lessened and he turned his face into Theo’s chest and mumbled a few words, he did not catch before closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

Telemachus felt a hand running over his back before the pain hit him like a wave from Poseidon. All the soreness from the day prior invaded his senses in an instant and he took a sharp inhale. The hand rubbing his back stopped and a quiet voice spoke. “Just relax, you are okay, you're safe.”

Telemachus opened one eye. It took a few moments for his vision to unblur, and he saw his room. The open window with light shining through. He took a breath in through his mouth, feeling how dry his lips and throat were. The rubbing on his back stopped and he turned his head and found himself looking into the concerned eyes of Theo.

“Hi,” he managed to say. His voice was soft and strained. He tried clearing his throat, but it just made him cough. He felt Theo move from his side and return with a cup. Telemachus grabbed the cup and slowly instructed Telemachus to drink the water. It felt good on his throat, he swallowed and winced slightly before speaking again.

“Theo?”

Theo held his hand and replied, “Yes my love.”

Telemachus looked up at him with a face of acceptance and announced, “I think I have a cold.”

Theo could not help but laugh. He leaned his head so just their forehead was touching. “I know… Athena knows… I am sure the whole town of Ithaca knows.”

Telemachus smiles for a moment before his face and takes on a look of desperation. His eyes dart around before settling on the blanker he is wrapped in. He grabs the corner of it and desperately sneezes into it, causing the corner to become discolored.

“Bless you!”

“You are going to get sick of saying that.” Replied the prince, sniffling wetly.

Theo shook his head and answered. “I haven’t yet, have I?….no I haven’t.”

“Good because” his breath hitches. “I- hehh! I-I hih-HhaHh! I-I am guh- g-gonna-huhhAH—!”

A grin spreads across Theo, and he holds Telemachus closer to his chest. “Hmm? You are gonna…?”

The struggling prince tried to talk. “Sneh-hehheeze!”

“I know love, come on, you can do it,” Theo said encouragingly. Telemachus sometimes needed to be reminded he was human and to let his body do what it needed to.

 His chest expands as his lungs draw deep.

“Heh! HEH! HEHHT’CHIEW!”

“Bless you after all these years you still can't cover your mouth can you?” he said eyeing the mess left on his face.

He sniffled. “S-Snf, sorry.”

Theo smiled he pulled a soft handkerchief; cupped Telemachus chin gently and tilted his face up. "Hold still." 

Telemachus blinked, surprised but obedient, his lashes fluttering as Theo dabbed carefully at his nose. "Y-you don’t have to do that," he murmured, his cheeks flushing. 

"Someone has to," he replied. "You’re like a water hose, and my clothes are in the line of fire." He gave a satisfied hum and placed the very used item on the bed. “And besides this way, I get to look at your cute face.”

Telemachus let out a watery chuckle, only to cut it off with a sharp gasp. Theo barely had time to reach up to cup his hand in front of his face before Telemachus snapped forward with another sneezing fit. 

"Hihh…Hhh’kssSHHhh! HhHuuh..Huhh’tCHSHhh! Eiihh…eiihH’tCHSHhhuu!"

“Goodness bless you, wow that water did a number on you?”

Telemachus sighed before speaking. “…to be honest I was sick even before then.” He said sheepishly.

Theo sighed. “I won't yell at you, but I am sure she will.”

“Oh, I am looking forward to it.. oh fuh- hh-! huHd’ESSCHHIEWWw!!!”

Theo waited before saying bless you as he saw Telemachus’ nose still twitching.

hiHH-!hihh’ihH-! HAAASSCHHIUHh-!! Sorry, I- AAAASSCHHIEW!! -…. s’hH’ESSCHHIEWWw!! He collapsed against Theo's chest exhausted.

“Bless you, that feel better?”

“No,” he replied stuffy.

Theo grabbed a new cloth and held it over his nose. “Come on, blow you need to get that stuff out of your head.”

He blew his nose with a loud, gurgling sound, sighing heavily as he crumpled the cloth in his fist.

“We are going to run out of handkerchiefs at this rate,” Theo commented before continuing. “It is okay, I know you are sick, I was probably already doomed at his point anyway to catch this.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes before adjusting his position. “I am not going to sneeze on you.”

“You have in the past.”

Telemachus blushed every shade of red you could imagine before hiding his face on Theo's chest.

“Aww someone speechless?”

Telemachus head snaps forward with messy sneezes, soaking, his chest “ehHTSCHHUH! hiiH- hiih- hiiHGTzsHHuuh! hiiHH'tTSSCHHIEEW! HAHH'ASSCHHHUE!

“Bless you, you done?”

Telemachus shakes his head no before ducking down again with a wet triple.

“hhh-hhd'HIIID'SSCHHI'ue! hhah-haah-HAHh-hHHAH'DZSCHHEEEw! ehHTSCHHUH”

“Bless you! Wow this is a bad cold isn’t it?” Theo said wiping his partner's nose which was already so red and irritated.

Telemachus nods and nuzzles into his chest.

“You need some tea. Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”

Theo crosses his arms. “I am not going to drown in my fluids.”

Theo sliding off the bed had doubts about that but ruffled his hair before heading down to the kitchens.

He returned in a few minutes to a pathetic display. Telemachus sat upright in bed, hunched over, sniffling.

Theo held out the mug in his hands, tilting it slightly toward Telemachus. “It’s tea,” he explained.

Telemachus huffed weakly, a sound that might have been a laugh if he had the energy for it. With trembling hands, he reached for the mug, his fingers brushing against Theo’s briefly as he took it. He sniffled wetly, his red and swollen nose twitching faintly, but the motion only irritated his sinuses further. His breath hitched once—twice—

Theo knowing he was going to burn himself held onto the cup.

“Sneeze first don’t-”

“HHhh! hh—Hh'IESHHhh! HH’EISHHhh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —hhIISSHHhhuhh!"

The sneezes erupted from him in rapid succession, bending him forward until his head nearly rested on his knees. The motion jolted Theo and some of the tea slipped over the sides and burned his hand.

“Spill it. Bless you! Those sound bad.”

Theo sets the cup on the side and climbs back into bed with him. “My love, I am so sorry you feel so awful.”

After a few minutes, Telemachus breaks the silence. “Want to know what the worst part is?.... I cannot kiss you.”

Theo bursts out laughing. “Says who!” and leans down and kisses him on the forehead. “What am I going to do with you!”

“Maybe see our future together,” he smirked.

He laughs “Fever got your brain, just close your eyes love. I will be here.”

-THE END-

[i-wanna-study]

I have three days left before my entrance exam. I didn’t study much today, but I’ll try my best to complete at least one English book.

[sorinethemastermind]

TO THE FINISH? FIC | Chapter Four: Thursday Free Practice

Melbourne, Australia 

Janai watched from the very edge of the pitwall as one of the Force Katolis drivers whizzed past, feet hooked into the railing and arms folded over the top to hold herself in place as the blast of air from the car’s passing tried to knock her from her perch.

She marveled at the speed and ferocity with which the car was traveling. Whoever was driving it had something to prove. 

“Sister!” Karim’s voice came from behind her, pulling her attention from the track. “What are you doing?”

Janai turned and stared down at him standing below her, hands on his hips, neck craned up to look her in the eyes. “Just watching the competition.” She unhooked her arms from the top of the fence and pushed off. Karim startled slightly as she landed at the base of the fence before him.

“You shouldn’t be doing things like that,” he scolded, ever cautious. “What if you had slipped and twisted your ankle? Or worse, broken it? You would be out of the car for half of the season!”

“Not half the season, Karim,” Janai assured him. “And I didn’t. I was careful.”

“You can see the cars just as well from the briefing room. And you can see the data there, too.”

“Yes,” Janai agreed. “But you can’t feel them. You need to feel the car, brother.”

“No, I don’t. That’s your job.”

“Then let me do my job,” Janai said with a wink, bumping her brother gently with one shoulder as she walked by him and back towards the garage. He sighed behind her and Janai knew she had won this time.

They always did this; waged their little wars. It was a trackside tradition. That’s what the sport was all about; small battles that amounted to big things. The sparring happening off track as well as on it; every overtake a little duel, the strategic minds of opposing teams coming together to weave intricate battle plans to outdo one team or another. It was only natural that the people engaging in such a sport would have a bit of fight in them. And anyway, Karim was her brother, it was all in good fun.

“How is the car?” Janai asked, stopping in the entryway of the garage and watching as the mechanics did the final bits of prep before she herself would step into it and find out.

“You’ll have to tell me,” Karim said with a huff. Janai hid a chuckle. He was still bitter at being bested. 

“What does Miyana have to say about it?” She walked a circuit of the car, inspecting it up close. Janai had driven it already, of course, during pre-season testing. But this would be her first practice lap of the season. A lot could change from testing to the actual race season.

“How should I know?” Karim objected, following a few steps behind her as Janai did another lap of the car.

“You’re the Team Principal, Karim,” Janai teased, turning to glance back at him. “Isn’t it your job to know everything?”

“Miyana is her own person,” Karim argued. “She doesn’t come running to me with every thought that pops into her head.”

Janai shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like the most communicative relationship for a Team Principal and his driver, but I’ll trust your judgement.”

“Yes, do.”

Janai rolled her eyes at her brother’s somewhat snobbish tone. She could tell he was nervous. They all were, of course. And it manifested in different ways for each of them.

Not one, not two, not three, but four Constructors Championships under their belt. SunForge Banking Formula 1 Team were proven world champions. But the more you won, the bigger the target on your back became. Janai wasn’t too worried about the mid-field, even the best of them didn’t have the resources to challenge them on a weekly basis. Firehawk and Nova Point were formidable teams, of course. There was no bad team or bad driver on the grid. There couldn’t be, not when there were only ten teams and twenty drivers in the entire sport. But the best they could do was win a few races a year; nothing that would trouble Janai or SunForge’s overall ranking.

No, her real competitors were few, but mighty. Tenebris, though it had been falling off in recent years, was still a formidable name. You didn’t win six Drivers and Constructors Championships in a row without knowing what you were doing. And just last year SolAire had given them a real fight; nearly stealing the Driver’s Championship at the last moment. And they had that new driver now, Claudia. She’d been making waves at Force Katolis the year before, landing the team more podiums than they’d had in years. In a better car, Janai had no doubt she’d be causing them trouble all year long.

Force Katolis. It was a name that hadn’t troubled the upper echelons of motorsport in a while, not since the team lost their star driver, that was. Firehawk, too. But both teams were climbing up from the midfield, making themselves known once again. She had to respect that, even if her job was still to beat them.

It had been all over the headlines the last few months; Callum signing with Force Katolis. The son of the world champion that led the team to victory, only to die in the very car that brought her success. Janai still remembered the day. She’d been younger, then, still only in Formula 2. Sarai’s rivalry with Avizandum was the kind of thing newspapers ate up, and she had too; dreaming that one day she might have one of her own. Two skilled drivers fighting for the championship. The best of their generation and at the top of their game.

She remembered walking to the place where it had happened and leaving a bouquet on the track. The entire corner had been filled with them; white flowers spilling across the tarmac in a waterfall. Even now, more than a decade later, and that corner was blooming with the memory of them.  

Janai knew the sport was dangerous. Every driver did. But somehow it was worth it - that risk - to be in these cars. To feel like you were part of them and to drive on the brink. To push yourself to the brink. Janai just hoped Callum was doing it for himself, and not for that waterfall of white petals.

“Radio check,” the voice in Janai’s ear said as she settled into the car. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out.

“Check.”

“Alright,” Kazi’s voice came again, a little too high and a little too loud in the confines of Janai’s helmet. “Track is clear. You ready?”

“Ready,” Janai replied, snapping her visor down. She spoke a silent prayer to herself and the car as the engine roared to life around her. She was ready.

The 2025 Formula 1 season was about to begin.

[immedealwithit9855]

Talk to Me, Baby!!!

Summary: Having a moment by the stream can do things to you. Especially if you're stuck out in the middle of the country with the girl you love. The sexual tension continues to grow between you and the ninja brute in red.

Its getting close, literally. 😍🥰

More smutty moments

The sun shined into your room, giving you its natural light. You arise from your bed, stretching as the birds sang for you. You left the window open a tad to get some air circulating. A little blue jay decided to pay you a visit. You squeaked when the bird landed on the edge of your bed. You smirked at the bird's visit, finding comfort as it looked at you with amazement. The bird gave a few sweet tweets, then flew away back into the wild. "What a way to start the day. Nice company." You did your stretches and started getting dressed. You look outside to find your 4 terrapin warrior friends sparring out front.

You watched in silence, as Leonardo and Michaelangelo went head to head in combat. Seeing them training in the open impressed you. Splinter, Raphael, and Donatello sat on the side observing the session.

Raph was feeling mischievous. You walked away from the window, to adjust your dreads in the mirror. The window was open, just as you were about to close it, Raph jerked it wide open engulfing you in his shadow. "Like what ya see, shortstack?" You were unfazed by this intrusion, they're ninjas. You sensed a wave of confidence flowing from his lips. You inched yourself closer, grabbing his bandana tails, gently pulling him to your level,"Yes. ShortStack loves what she sees. Here's some motivation." No further warning, you nuzzled his snout slowly and softly, earning a light chur.

You pull back,"Ya may want to get back now before Splinter uses his tail to draw you back." Your reminder hit him hard as he brought himself back to reality. "Just you wait." He takes one strand of your dreadlocks and kisses it. You wink.

You turned and left the room. The big brute had a better time watching you leave. His fatuation with you has also caused a certain someone to address him. "Raphael! I did not raise you to be a..." He clears his throat,"Peeping Tom, is it?" Leonardo and Donatello rolled their eyes. Splinter, unamused with Raphael's behavior, he challenges Raphael to a duel. "Let's see what you've got. Full force!" Raph has been there with his father before, this felt different. He sensed he was testing him. He cracked his neck, landed on the ground with an intense thud, drew his sais,"Alright Sensei, lets go!" The sparring began.

You were busy in the kitchen cooking up a meal for everyone. One of your qualities the guys appreciate the most, is your cooking skills. You've whipped up eggs with french toast. You made a few belgian waffles in case they wanted a more bulky meal. April came and hugged you as you finished prepping the meals and tea. "Wanna go back in town for the festival?" She asked, taking some eggs for herself. "Yes. Fairs, festivals, being out in the country, it's like I'm living my dream." You explain, with excitement. You grinned as you recalled the townfolk's demeanor. Welcoming, generous, chivalrous. Unlike the world you came from where they say chivalry is dead. Being generous and welcoming is considered a foreign trait. "Alright. When are we leaving?" You asked, wiping your hands off on the apron that Raph made for you. "We'll leave soon. Good thing your ready, just gotta get Thing 1 and Thing 2 to comply." April groans, referring to Vern and Casey.

The guys came in after an intense training session, Mikey took a huge whiff of the air, mouth watering at the bounty you made for them all.

"Your cooking always gets me, SweetCakes. Always." He complimented. You shot him a smile he has grown to admire. "It's the least I can do. Can't be a bum, right?" Leonardo looked at you, gently taking you by the hand,"Never talk down on yourself. Ever." You felt peace at his words, then Splinter snaked his tail to your hand,"He is right. You've come to a world foreign to you. Yet, you've accepted us without hesitation or fear. You are family."

You all conversed for a while, then it was time to go. You headed out to the vehicle first while April stayed back for a moment. "I'll bring her back before sunset." April told them after a strict reminder from Leonardo to avoid danger. "Hey, there's been talk going around town about some creature that's been lurking in the forest for the pass month." Casey explained, peaking the interests of the turtles. "We haven't been here that long. Can you give a description of the creature? Any details?" Donnie asks. "From what I gathered from the locals, there have been sightings of large alligators roaming around. One crazy lady went as far as saying she seen one walking upright!!" This posed as no surprise given they too are walking, talking reptilians, yet a wave of interest. "We'll keep an eye out. Let Y/N know so she doesn't get caught off guard." Leo gave his final reminder after hearing the details of this alligator. Before April leaves, she looks to Raphael, winking at him. He nods and sighs.

They all made it to the city, vendors from yesterday still selling their freshly grown produce and merchandise. "I could live here!" You and April enjoyed the festivities, that included music, dancing, and food. The time you were having was beyond what you've ever imagined possible in this dimension. As the day wore on, an announcer took the podium,"Ladies and Gentlemen! As you all know, there is a mystic creature roaming about." You almost shivered, on the way April and Casey warned you of the locals tales of an alligator walking about. When they mentioned the 'walking uptight' part, you began to wonder,"Could it be him? Nah, it can't be. In this dimension?" The announcer's loud voice catching you off guard offering a solution to the townsfolk problem,"We're gonna have ourselves an open mic. Reciting a poem. Let your voice be heard to appease this creature. If you're a singer, you're the biggest risk taker here. Whose up, first?"

While some thought his offer was bogus, others saw it as mere entertainment. Yet, no one stepped forward. Then, April side glared you. Recalling a time you were in her shower singing. Your voice was majestic. Immediately she acted, taking your hand, leading you up to the stage. Your protests went on death ears as she pushed you to the stage. "We got ourselves a fresh one here. What's your name, darlin?" He asked with a very country tone. "Y/N." You eked out. "That's the most unique name I've ever heard around these parts, ain't that right folks?" Everyone clapped and nodded in agreement. "Don't be shy, honey. We family round' here. Let that voice be heard!" Everyone chanted and clapped to encourage you. You were mentally pouting at April for what she did, but had no choice. Her, Vern, and Casey were right up front watching you.

You took a deep breath. For a bunch of townfolk, they made sure to provide a bunch of musicians to assist. You took the microphone.

As you sang your heart out, the crowd went nuts! Couples were dancing and grooving. Casey and April did a little jig while Vern was doing a grandpa looking dance, falling in love with you in the process. The speakers were blasting, stirring the entire town, reaching every part of the wooded areas. In the midst of the fun, April called Donnie via video chat. "Hey April. What's up? What's all that noise in the background?" She didn't say a word, she switched the screens to face you singing and dancing on the stage with the musicians dancing with you in the back. Donnie was blown away. He connected his phone to his big monitors so the video could be large enough for his brothers and Master Splinter to see and hear.

"Is that.....Y/N?" Leonardo squinted.

"Yeah it is! Our girls a singer! She's famous!!!!" Mikey cheered, whistling at the screen.

"A hidden talent in our midst. Such a beautiful voice she has." Splinter murmurs, careful not to let his sons see his tail swinging to the beat.

Raphael could not believe how talented you are. A singer. A dancer. You were one of a kind. He felt a stir in his pants as you sang out more. The way you whipped your dreads rocked the entire town. His opinion of you couldn't possibly get any higher as he watched you spread your wings and sore. Earning hoots and hollers from the crowd as you made your way off the stage, taking your bows. 'Makes me wanna kiss her more!'

The people hugged, patted you on the back, shook your hand as you went through the crowd. "Now that, ladies and gentlemen is a REAL risk taker! Give her some more love!" The announcer shouts out making the crowd go crazy over you. You could die from the adrenaline, it felt so exhilarating. Intense. April cheered for joy while Vern picked you up and twirled you around. "With a voice like that, you may as well have drawn that gator away." Vern failed to realize that Raph and the others were still on the video chat. 'He's askin' fer it!'

"Hope you guys enjoyed the show. We'll be there soon!" April says, waving at her phone screen.

"See ya soon, AngelCakes. You too, SweetCakes." Mikey chimed, blowing kisses to the screen much to the dismay of his brothers.

As you explored, you came upon a booth that peaked your interest. You found something that reminded you of Raphael. You take it to the seller, she smiled, allowing you to have it for free. You refused to be that kind of person, as you snuck $20 on the table while her back was turned and bolted into the crowd.

It was time to leave. The grin you had may as well be embedded on your face. Then it hit you, Raphael and the others heard and saw you. Trying not to give yourself a heart attack, you engaged in small talk. Then Casey brought up something about his family's land that sounded familiar to you. "Ya know, my parents said my crazy uncle stashed something on the property. He never said where just gave us a lousy clue!" The opportunity actually came and you took it,"It wouldn't happen to be 'Spot Marks the X' would it?" Casey crooked his brows at your question,"Yeah. How did you know that?" He asked, the bass in his tone sounding intimidating. You explain to him that a different version of him has a similar story regarding his family's hidden treasures. "Did he have a dog?" He was flabbergasted. "Yeah. His name was.....Spot!" He hesitated. April and Vern were both confused, yet intrigued with how much you knew without ever being at his property. "Wait! If you know this, then you know exactly where it is and whats in it, right?" His voice sounded like that of an excited child. "I wish I could tell you that. When you find it, it could be anything. I don't wanna get your hopes up. I'm sorry." April looked at you, massaged your hand.

You had to admit, you've never rode with a speed racer, but Casey sped so fast, you worried he damaged the engine.

You finally arrived at the house to see Raph and Mikey rough housing in the front yard. "Boys will be boys. Right, sis?" April quipped, getting a high five from you. "Ya got that right!" All of a sudden, your bashfulness crept back up on you. You remembered Splinter showing you some breathing techniques. As you pulled up, you made a suggestion. "How about you 2 go on a little treasure hunt, while I go exploring." April winked at you,"You sure you don't wanna join us?" You looked at her and smiled,"I told Raph I'd check things out with him." Vern swallowed hard when he realized Raph was creeping, fogging up the windows. "You know what? Chill! I'm coming out." You gruffed. You weren't into Vern at all and here Raph is getting territorial, feeling threatened.

"So yer a star now?" He says, helping you out of the car. Practically yanking you away from Vern.

"I don't know about star. Hopefully it drew away the local's alligator." You sighed, brushing your dreads out of your face. He studied you, while April and Casey took the bags of items into the house. Vern following right behind them.

"The sun is going down. What do you....." You were silenced by a big meaty digit.

"Go in the house. Put on yer swimsuit. Put some clothes over it and we'll head out. I wanna show ya somethin." His voice so rough, yet arousing when he spoke. "Alright. I'll be quick then." The both of you walked back to the house. You quickly went upstairs, changed into your swimsuit and casual clothing and bolted outside to meet Raph. He looked you over, humming his approval. The 2 of you started walking towards the forest when Leonardo hollered out,"If something happens, let us know. I mean it Raph!" Raph rolled his eyes, as if he doesn't think he can handle himself. "We're good, Leo. Keep ya shell on!"

Leonardo didn't like the idea of them going into the woods. If those tales are true, than it could get dangerous. That's why before they departed, Donnie gave them devices that pinpoint their locations in case a situation were to occur. He instructed Raph to stay close to the lake's edges, not to go into the forest at night. "Stay safe."

Donnie and Mikey just snickered. "Dude, he's whipped!" Mikey teased. "Shut up, Mikey. For a moment, you were whipped on April!" Donnie lashed, recalling the many comments he made about April. "I'll say this, he's a lucky turtle." As you walked, you stumbled on a branch, and he caught you. "Careful, Babe. We almost there."

'Did he just call me 'Babe?' Somethin' is up.'

Near the lake's edge, A large tree sat beside it. As you got closer, you saw a blanket spread out near the tree out of view of the house, facing the woods, with a cute picnic basket on the side. As you sat down to rest, Raph was working something on his wrist watch. Suddenly the area became lit with LED lights. He sat beside you, wrapped an arm around you,"Whatta ya think?" Snuggling up to him, feeling the thickness of his plastron,"It's beautiful, Raph. Can't believe you did this." He rubbed the back of his head,"With a little help from Donnie." You admired his honesty, you figured Donnie had a hand in this anyway but didn't wanna make him feel awkward.

As you basked in nature's room, Raph started squeezing you. "Yer voice......" he begins,"You should be on Broadway or somethin." You laughed,"Broadway is pretty huge. I don't think they would take me." He used his free hand to tilt your chin towards him, stroking it lightly,"I'd take ya!" Goosebumps started traveling throughout your body, he was being forward tonight. Ever since you confessed to him, he's been showing you a lot of attention. Suggesting more, but you didn't wanna force anything on him unless he wants it. "Ya like Vern?" He randomly asked. You were appalled,"Ewww. No. I know his history with women. I am not the type to fall for that!" You say, with attitude thinking about Vern's 'ladies man' comment. Raph nodded, but faced the other reality: He's a mutant turtle. Completely non-human. He pondered whether you would want him in that way. The night he discovered you in the alley was suppose to be his usual routine protecting the city. Upon seeing him, he wanted you to scream so badly. To fear him like all the others. Instead you called out to him as if you knew him. It shocked him. Then when he looked at you, it was like fireworks erupting in his chest. A rare feeling for him. He cleared his mind and took a deep breath.

"Ya know I ain't human." He murmured, feeling the cringe from saying it.

"And? " You quickly chimed.

"I can't do what human guys can do."

"So. What if I don't want you to do what they do?" You massaged his palm,"What if I want you to do you?"

He wasn't expecting that response. Recalled how you confessed to him, taking a few notes from your book,"I really like ya. A lot. Its hard to not think of ya." He finally admits. You turned your whole body, took his hand, guiding it to your heart"I like you too, Raph. I've always had a thing for you." He didn't talk, he just acted and you followed as you both stood up. While he got his feet wet, you worked your clothes off. When he turned around, his instincts started challenging him. You wore a red and yellow onesie that showcased your curvy body. Your complexion glowing in the light as you waltzed towards him. The chill of the water working its way up your legs, cooling off the heat building up inside just a smidgen. The 2 of you swam, laughed, chowed down on a some sandwiches, and talked for a good while.

You both laid side by side on the blanket. Just staring at each other. You knew their life involved protecting the city, honing their skills, while staying in the shadows. You've always respected that. "Dis ain't eva happen before. So...." You could see him hesitating as he spoke. You placed a hand on his cheek,"Go on." He inched his snout closer to you,"Wanna be my girl?" Your heart is screaming out to him. Pressing your forehead against his, you softly respond,"Yes. Yes, I do!" His breath hitched, you trembled as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just know, I refuse to get in the way of your duties. I hope that's okay going forward."

"You accepted me and my brothers. Along with everything ya know about us. That means a lot ta me. So, this is okay too." He says, taking your hand.

He laid you down on the blanket, taking in all your features. The scent you were letting off was so strong, it drove him insane. He nuzzled his snout into your neck, eliciting a moan from you. He kissed it, you let out a small cry. He pulled back,"Did I hurt ya?" He seemed worried. "No. My neck is.......sensitive." You stunned him even more as you willingly tilted your head back for him to do as he wishes. In the animal kingdom, this is submission. He snaked his long tongue out over you pulse, causing a wave of shock to overrun you. He sunk deeper and started suckling your neck. You embraced as you both caressed each other. "Don't stop, Raphael. Right there!" You begged as he hit a sensitve spot on your neck. He couldn't believe what was happening. The girl thats been plaguing his mind likes him. Wants to date him. He pulled back, searching your eyes for approval. You smiled, gently sat up to reach his lips and kissed him. It was invigorating, enough to make the volume of his churring louder than before. Low and ragged, yet it turned you on.

He hoisted you up in a lotus position, having you straddle his hips, carefully moving you to rest your back against the tree. Your breasts pressed against his chest made his churrs course through your entire body. You bit your lips as did he.

The kiss became urgent as heads turn, lips smacked. You licked the seem of his lips, he opens his mouth, groaning as you started sucking his tongue! He melted in the sensations, letting your tongue massage his. The heat building up, you guide his hands to your chest. He presses them gently,"So soft." He whispered. Cheering in his head that his brothers could not see anything thanks to this large tree. "All that staring and looming finally paid off, huh?" You threw your head back, dreads flailing about in a frenzy as he kissed your mounds. "Yer just so gorgeous. Sexy. And dis hair!" He growls, working one hand through your dreads to massage your scalp. You started to grind down on him, moaning, causing him to move along with you.

In the middle of your luscious grinding, you noticed the LED lights fading. Then a fleet of fireflies emerged, sharing their personal lights with the both of you. Dreading the idea of making him stop, you tapped his shoulder to point behind him. He turned to see the fireflies surrounding you. One even landing on his snout. You giggled as he shook the insect off, reconnecting your lips again. "Is it okay if I call you 'Baby?" He asked, even his breathy moans were gruff and tantalizing. "Yes. As long as it's okay to stroke these thick biceps of yours." You cooed, running your little digits up his arms. When really you were stroking his ego. "Yeah, Baby. Yeah." His groans making you soak your swimsuit more. He called you 'baby' non-stop, as you moaned his name in utter need. Though he was erect, he wanted to enjoy you slowly, before the big moment comes. The scene was like magic as you became closer with the fireflies lighting your way to a deeper bond.

Meanwhile, Casey and April were having an interesting time doing their treasure hunt. As they searched the grounds, something occurred to Casey. "Spot was a stray my uncle took in. He loved that dog, he was his best friend." They approached the barn where a stone was placed to mark the canines grave. "Could this be it?" April asked. "Only one way to find out. Mind giving me a hand?" April felt weird invading the resting place of Casey's uncle's deceased friend, but what you told them kept running through her head. They moved the stone from the barn foundation, behind it was a large briefcase. Casey couldn't believe his eyes, his cousin would constantly dig the grounds looking for this and here it was in his possession.

After toying with the lock, the case finally gave way and opened. What they found was shocking. Casey was speechless. April however found something else near the inner side of the grave. A sheet of paper with a sinister note. She showed Casey. "We need to tell Y/N. Tomorrow morning!"

[sunrisestudyblr]

Day 1:

SEPTEMBER 2!!! That means it’s fall….it was just chilly enough for a hoodie :))

tomorrow is class day, so I needed to make sure to have all my assignments done on time! Next week is big exam day, so the focus is on revision and worksheets.

finished:

— two entire practice tests completed in challenges (fourteen challenges total). — drilling math formulas

— science worksheet with problem explanations written out

— math ‘cheat sheet’ completed and drilled

— worked through the practice math questions to prep for quiz tomorrow

— looked through some gorgeous Botticelli paintings for a little rest :))

🎧: ur so pretty — wasia project

📚: of human bondage by W. Somerset Maughan and king Lear by Shakespeare

Highlight of day: getting to study in the pretty fall leaves, and getting to call a friend :))

[arcane-apidae]

Homeschooling as Radical Resistance

The world doesn’t want us to think for ourselves. Not really. It wants us to fall in line, tick the right boxes, and churn out productivity for a system that doesn’t love us, doesn’t care for us, and barely sees us as human. Schools—these so-called "temples of learning"—are one of the system’s most efficient tools. Designed to standardize, condition, and strip away individuality, they create obedient workers, not critical thinkers.

But what if I told you there’s another way? 🌱

Homeschooling is more than just an educational choice. It’s an act of rebellion. ✊ It’s saying no to a system that values conformity over creativity, indoctrination over truth, and obedience over autonomy. It’s a way to reclaim the future for our kids—and for ourselves.

The System Was Never Meant to Set Us Free

Let’s be real: schools weren’t designed with liberation in mind. 🏫💼 The factory model of education wasn’t about helping kids thrive; it was about churning out workers who could fill roles in an industrialized world. Sit down. Follow orders. Don’t ask too many questions.

Fast-forward to now, and not much has changed. Standardized testing? It’s a way to measure compliance, not intelligence. 🧠 The glorification of "good grades"? It’s about turning kids into products the system can sell to colleges, corporations, and beyond. Even the curriculum is steeped in control—whitewashed history, consumer-driven ideologies, and narratives that keep the status quo comfortably intact.

It’s not education. It’s programming. ⚙️

Why Homeschooling is the Ultimate Act of Defiance

Homeschooling tears up the script. 📖✂️ It says: My child doesn’t need your system. We’ve got this.

1. Reclaiming Control Homeschooling lets you decide what matters most. 🕊️ Your child isn’t learning to meet some arbitrary state standard; they’re learning to meet their own. Want to teach history that’s inclusive and honest? You can. Want to prioritize art, philosophy, or gardening over test prep? 🌻 You can do that too.

2. Raising Free Thinkers The system doesn’t want kids to question it. 🚦 But homeschooling makes space for curiosity, critical thinking, and independence. It teaches them how to think, not what to think. 💭

3. Protecting Them from Harmful Ideologies School systems are breeding grounds for harmful norms—racism, ableism, toxic competition, and more. Homeschooling gives you the power to rewrite those narratives, teaching compassion, equity, and truth instead. 🌍💛

Freedom Beyond the Classroom

Homeschooling doesn’t just free your kids from the system—it frees you too. 🌿

No more 9-to-5 schedules dictated by the school calendar. No more rushing through mornings, evenings, and weekends just to make it all fit. Homeschooling lets families slow down, build stronger bonds, and embrace a way of life that feels more human.

And for the "what about socialization?" crowd: let’s be honest. School "socialization" often means learning to endure bullying, follow arbitrary rules, and navigate rigid hierarchies. 🙃 Homeschooling, on the other hand, creates space for authentic connections—through co-ops, playgroups, and communities built on shared values. 🌈

Homeschooling is Activism

Every time you choose homeschooling, you’re saying no to the system. ❌ You’re breaking cycles of oppression and teaching your kids how to imagine something better.

Homeschooling is small-scale resistance with large-scale potential. 🌌 It’s about nurturing the next generation of thinkers, creators, and change-makers—kids who will question, challenge, and refuse to accept a world that doesn’t serve humanity as a whole.

It’s not perfect. It’s not easy. But it’s powerful. 💥

The Quiet Revolution

Homeschooling isn’t just about pulling kids out of school. 🏡 It’s about pulling them out of a system that demands obedience at the cost of their humanity. It’s about raising kids who see the world for what it is and dream of what it could be.

So here’s the truth: choosing to homeschool is choosing to resist. 🐝✨ It’s a small, quiet revolution that begins at your kitchen table, in your backyard, on the living room floor.

And in a world that doesn’t want us to think for ourselves, raising free thinkers might just be the most radical thing you can do. 🌟

[academiawho]

130 Day Productivity Challenge!

1 April '24 - Day 101

I wrote a mock test in prep for tomorrow's grand test. I worked on my mistakes from each chapter that I could spot and revised them.

There's only 30 days left for the ultimate week. Let's go and hustle!

Hope you had a good day💛