#world: circuit boards

[twin-tailss]

@sonic-au-collision

CIRCUIT BOARDS AU

BOOK 1, CHAPTER 1

Swift (Sonic) has always been the fastest cyborg around. He has also always served the chaos councils every whim since his parents sold him to them- or, more specifically, Mr. Dr. Eggman- when he was five years old. He’s thirteen now. He’s known for a long time that there wasn’t an escape and trying to would only get him hurt worse.

All of that would change when he was chasing a two-tailed little criminal through the subways of new yoke and he got hit by a train- literally.

NEXT

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Chasing. That’s what Swift was doing when he was hit- chasing a criminal. Watching, as he had hundreds of times, his own body running without him, chasing someone who didn’t quite fit into the Chaos Council's idea of perfect.

Would he be doing this if he had a choice? He didn’t think so, but he wouldn’t know- he hadn’t been himself for a single moment in eight years. Eight years ago, he had been turned into nothing but a killing machine for the Council. It had been a long time since he gave up on escaping, trapped in his own body.

The criminal he was chasing through the subway was a golden fox kit. He couldn’t be any older than five. Swift felt bad for him, but he had long since abandoned the feeling of guilt, and empathy had been programmed out of him, so it wasn’t as if he was going to be able to magically stop chasing the child through sheer force of will.

Miles “Nine” Prower, civilian code 381–082. Guilty of rebelling against the Council's orders. Brilliant. Destructive. Extremely quick. Be on guard at all times. His brain spat out easily. The small, agile fox darted around a corner and Swift was quick to follow him. He was mildly impressed- no one had ever been able to keep up with him before, but here was this fox child- keeping ahead of him with fluid ease. It was… mortifying, to say the least.

It didn’t matter. In the end he would catch the fox, just like everyone else who had ever stood in the councils way. Then he would submit to the Council’s rule. Maybe making machines for them, if they were as smart as the council believed. Or dead and thrown onto the side of the road on the off chance they weren’t as smart as the Council thought they were. That felt blasphemous. Was it? He didn’t know, and holy shit he had bigger problems right now-

Blinding light scorched his eyes as the train slammed into him, agony shooting through him like a lightning bolt, white-hot and nearly blinding. His mouth wrenched open in a silent scream as his body slammed against the cold metal. Fuck, fuck! The agony wrenched through his bones, down to the very depths of his soul. There was this god-awful noise as metal hit metal and his body scraped against the track, and then there was nothing as his mind slipped away from him- simply darkness.

—————————————————————————

Had it decapitated him? Was he dead? Hah- That would be a mercy, with a ‘life’ like his. A mercy he wasn't lucky enough to have. Or was he just unconscious? Was he about to wake up and be yelled at by Mr. Doctor Eggman, or worse, Doctor Done-It for failing to capture the fox? He knew he should’ve been on guard, but they were so small, and he had faced off against people about twenty times bigger and stronger and he had been just fine. They hadn't given him nearly as much trouble, even the highest-profile ones. He really didn’t want to watch his body groveling at one of the doctor's feet, begging for forgiveness again. It was just as humiliating as they intended it to be.

Something was shoving his mechanical arm. It had pushed over onto his mostly mechanical body, but he could feel it as it brushed against his quills. He didn’t move. Maybe they would leave him alone if they thought he was asleep. Hah, maybe the Council wouldn’t lecture him if he was in a coma.

A small hand pushed against his face, poking him. Doctor Babble, maybe? So it probably wasn’t a lecture in store for him. Maybe he had fallen asleep while being forced to babysit them. Maybe it was all some awful dream. His eyes slid open with a quiet groan…

This was not the capital of New Yoke City. He knew that instantly, the moment he opened his eyes. The colors were all wrong. The ground was too hard. He wasn’t in the capital, which probably meant one of the citizens had woken him up so he could continue chasing the criminal. He knew some people believed that Council's rule was best, as that was all they had ever known, but he hadn’t met any yet. They were usually law-abiding citizens that he was never sent after except for false reports of heinous crimes.

“Hello?” the voice wormed into his ears as they stopped ringing. Young, about the age of the criminal he was supposed to be chasing, he assumed. His whole body ached, and he didn’t want to get up, but he had to, or he would face punishment from the Council. He turned his head towards them, and if he had a heart anymore it certainly would’ve stopped beating at that exact moment.

Golden fur. Two tails. Blue eyes. This was Nine, the five-year-old child he was chasing- the one who had tricked him into running straight into an oncoming train. Had they decided to turn themselves in? That was the only reasonable explanation, wasn’t it? Maybe the kid was as smart as they said, but they likely weren't if they would do that after damaging the chaos councils favorite pet.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. Check if your weapons systems are online.” Was he asking him to kill him? Hah, now that would be a mercy, but then the Council would probably tear him apart and put him back together for going overkill in his mission and killing a ‘potentially valuable asset’, so that was not happening.

His arm raised to point at the ceiling without even thinking about it and attempted to fire off a plasma blast. It didn’t work. He tried again. Again. His weapons systems were definitely offline. What had this child done to him? A chill went up his spine, and he swallowed. He couldn’t defend himself without his weapons. He couldn’t do anything without his weapons. He was entirely helpless.

“They are non-functional. I must go to a workshop and get them fixed.” His body stood up without him, as it always did. This was not the subway, he realized. It was some kind of workshop. It had a big computer in one corner, and the floors were littered with inventions of all kinds. It was messy and would surely be hard to walk through without stepping on anything and possibly breaking it.

“No, you’re staying right here. They were intentionally disabled.” His body stopped moving as they spoke, about halfway to the door. What? He turned around, watching the two-tailed fox. How is this possible?

“But why?” That wasn’t the question Swift felt like he should be asking, but fine. “I need them to be useful. That is my purpose.”

“So you can’t kill me.” Hah, Swift could still kill him, if he wanted to. If he had to. He didn't particularly like killing, but he had no choice. He had to obey his orders. He could imagine bones cracking underneath his metal foot, the fox’s neck captured in his hands, unable to breathe. In fact, why was that not happening right now? He couldn’t kill him, as his mission was capture, but Swift could still harm him enough that he would be unable to fight back. That’s what he had expected to happen, but he wasn’t attacking the fox- in fact, he was listening to him! What in the world?

“Your new purpose is to be company. A friend, I guess.” The foolish fox shrugged, as if the very thought of Swift- a killing machine for the council, a robot that most feared and few loved- being friends with a criminal he had been ordered to capture was not laughable. If Swift could laugh, he would be rolling on the floor right now.

“But why? I am supposed to be nothing more than a killing machine for the Council.” Swift hated those words, even if they were true. That’s all he was. Even if he was set free somehow, he would probably still follow their orders, as it was all he had ever known.

“Well, not anymore.” The tiny fox grabbed his metal hand in one of their paws, bringing him back down to the ground where he was before. Surprisingly, his body didn’t fight him. He had expected bones to be breaking the moment the fox had touched him, but it did not seem as if he could hurt him.

“Now, you’re my assistant slash friend slash… whatever else I can think of.” There was something else going on here, but it didn’t make sense to Swift’s brain. He just couldn’t put the pieces together, probably because he was usually surrounded by four geniuses- Doctor Babble not included- who usually put the pieces together before he could even start using his brain.

His eyes fluttered shut. “New directive accepted.” his voice droned out robotically. Swift wished he could recoil in shock. What the actual hell? Only an admin could change his directive-

Oh. The pieces clicked together, and an emotion he had long since abandoned welled up inside of him. Hope. A glimmer of hope. This insanely stupid, yet at the same time extremely brilliant fox hacked me. I have to follow his orders now.

…Hopefully, it would be better than being there. It seemed as if it would be, with his new directive. To be… a friend. A barely there glimmer of anticipation flicked to life in his chest. He had never had a friend before.

“Good.” A tiny smile crawled its way onto Nine’s face. Swift watched him for a moment, wondering what was going to come out of his own mouth. The silence felt as if it stretched on for a thousand years, becoming more awkward with every passing second. Swift had never experienced an awkward silence before, not that he could remember at least, probably because he had never had a real conversation since he was sold to Eggman, Mr. Doctor Eggman, specifically, before he had figured out how to make those five copies of himself. Before he had found the shard. Before… everything. There wasn’t any need to talk to the people he had to capture, and those who tried to talk with him usually shut up pretty quickly when his laser blaster was pointed at them

“Who are you?” He asked after waiting for god knows how long for him to just say something. He already knew who he was, of course, but he was just trying to end the awkward silence already.

“I’m Miles Prower, Civilian Code 381-082. Chosen name Nine.” They respond. “You?”

“Nice to meet you, Nine.” It wasn’t nice to meet him, but this… was nice, for however long it lasted. He wondered when it would all go bad. “I am Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog, former Civilian Code 128-791, chosen name Swift.”

“Whoa, that’s messed up.” Nine breathed out, his eyes widening in shock. A tiny paw reached out and brushed over some of his real quills, pulling back immediately as he felt just how not-metal they were. “How did the Chaos Council do this to you?”

“I do not have the clearance to access that information.” They didn’t want him to remember that. Sometimes… it made him wonder if they did care about him after all. He knew they didn’t, logically. But sometimes he still wondered. Wondered what it would be like if they did care about him. Wondered what it would be like if his parents cared about him. Wondered what it would be like if even one single person had cared about him in his thirteen long years of living. How different his life would be if anyone had ever been there for him.

The fox stared at him with immense pity in their sky-blue eyes. He wondered absentmindedly if it counted as sky blue anymore. He could remember when the skies were blue, instead of the reddish color they were now. He remembered being so proud of being the same color as the sky. Now, he wondered if that color exists anywhere else but himself and the ocean. It’s not as if there are any flowers left.

“Okay.” the fox managed out through the knot in their throat. “Is the person you used to be still conscious, or are you just a robot?” He stared at them for a moment, considering the question, mulling it over in his mind. Could he be considered more than a robot, even if he were conscious, if the programming controlled every aspect of himself and his personality? He didn’t know, but Nine was waiting for a response. He decided to go with the one he believed would please them.

“I am conscious.” it was technically the truth- he was conscious, after all. He was a being with his own thoughts and feelings, but the programming dictated his thoughts and emotions and he was unable to disobey when an admin gave him an order. That only seemed to make Nine seem more horrified, though.

“That's even more fucked.” He wished he wasn’t programmed to be unable to laugh at that moment- Mr. Doctor Eggman had always found his laugh annoying, so he had decided to program away his ability to laugh. He had cried a lot that day. He cried a lot more than now back then. He wondered if it was another change to his coding. It didn’t matter. He was whoever the admins wanted him to be, and that was that. It had always been that way. “I don’t know how to undo all the programming, at least not yet. Programming language isn’t one I use often.”

Alarm slammed through him. He… what? No, he can’t. He couldn’t be without it. He didn’t know who he was, or would be without it. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know who he would be without it. He was perfectly fine as himself, even without his own brain. He was happy this way. Or at least, he was perfectly fine the way he was. Shit, what did he do?

“Why would you do that?” His voice was perfectly calm, smooth, and robotic, as it always is. He couldn’t change the tone of his voice. He couldn’t show any emotion. He was not supposed to be anything more than a killing machine. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to have feelings, period. He should go and get it fixed- but he couldn’t do that.

“You don’t know where I’m located. Returning your bodily autonomy wouldn’t do me any harm, plus the Chaos Council wouldn’t remove the bodily autonomy of someone who wants to work for them.” Nine’s words are reasonable, but he couldn’t accept them. He also knew he couldn’t really argue against them because he made himself an admin.

“I am a cyborg.” he tried anyway. “I was once a hedgehog, but I am no longer. I am fine the way I am.” Am I? A tiny voice in his head spoke up. Or is this contentment with who they made me into programmed into me as well? He intentionally smothered the voice. If it was, it would be nice of them to think of his emotions- which he wasn’t supposed to have, so shh. It was pointless to think of that anyway. It didn’t help him.

“Is that the real you talking, or the programming?” Nine asks easily. His fingers curled into a fist and he glanced down at the ground. He was trying to cover up any emotions, like normal, but it was harder because the feelings were much less muted than before. Something must’ve come loose with that hit. He should go back to get his brain fixed, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t about to admit that he… didn’t know, anymore. He didn’t want the fox to give him that look again- as if he was a weak little thing that needed support. He hated that look more than anything.

“I have not been without it for many years, since my power first developed and my parents sold me to Mr. Doctor Eggman.” He was being completely honest- at least, he believed he was. He didn’t… think, or at least, didn’t want to think that they could change his memories. They could lock away his memories, sure, but changing them… he didn’t want to think about the fact that the few nice things he could remember could’ve never actually happened. He swallowed slightly around the lump that formed in his throat. He blinked away any tears that may have welled up from that train of thought, hopefully before Nine realized that they existed. “There is no difference anymore.” something happens to my voice, and for a moment it feels as if I can’t breathe. I don’t know why, I don’t know what's going on. I don’t like this.

“Wow.” He could barely keep himself from glaring at the fox, his teeth gritting. Wow. Was that really all he had to say? Was he impressed with what they had done to him? Was- “even more fucked. What do you need to survive?”

He stared at the child, his brain trying and failing to make sense of the question. Why in all the circles of whatever hell awaited him once he passed from this mortal plane would they not know? It was obvious. He needed food and water, just as anyone else. He wasn’t- he… well. He couldn’t exactly just lie and say that he wasn’t a monster, could he?

“The same as any other living being, as I am still technically alive.” He informed him, his voice monotone. He had always hated his voice, as far back as he could remember, but he felt as if there was a time he couldn’t remember when he had loved it, but it had been a long time since he had heard it doing anything but throwing out slimy threats and insults and droning out orders on the Council’s behalf. “Meaning food, water and exercise.”

“Got it.” Nine walked over to his workbench, bobbing his head in a nod. Swift watched him silently as he sat down, getting something out. It was some kind of plug. He wondered what it was for. Nine got up again and started walking back over to him.

“What would you like me to help with?” He asked, trying to fill the silence again. He didn’t really care what Nine wanted out of him. He just… needed his programming. He couldn’t allow someone to take it away from him, it was all he had. The only thing that had been consistent throughout most of his life- other than the Chaos Council- but he wouldn’t mind losing them as much.

“Just answer any questions I ask for now. How old are you?” He paused, trying to think back to the last time his birthday was celebrated. When he was five, he thought. How many years ago was that? Eight, right. So he was probably thirteen. The fox was watching him, waiting for his answer.

“I believe I am thirteen.” he spoke after another long and awkward moment. The other watched him carefully for another moment, taking in that information with the fact he had paused, and Swift rushed to fill the silence. “Last time my age mattered, I was five. I had to figure out how many years it had been since then.”

The fox looks at him like that again. With pity in his eyes. He didn’t need to be pitied. He didn’t need to be pitied. He hated it when people pitied him or felt bad for him. It felt as if they didn’t take him seriously. Him, of all mobians they could possibly not take seriously! Chaos.

“I’m five.” the fox responds after another long moment of awkward silence that seemed to drag on for years. He found that he absolutely despised awkwardness. It had a way of crawling under his skin and making him feel uneasy, which happened to be another feeling he hated.

“Why do you feel the need to take away my programming?” he spoke up after another long, awkward silence.

“I’m curious on how it works, and I want to know what you’ll be like without the programming. Stay still.” Swift swallows hard as the fox starts moving the plug towards his head. That must be how he had hacked him. No one was supposed to know about that panel except for Mr. Doctor Eggman.

“But what if I don’t want it gone?” Swift speaks up quickly before he can stop himself. The fox stares at him as if he just told him that the sky was blue, or that this whole place was one grassy meadow.

“Doesn’t matter.” They say. “I want it gone, and we have no idea whether or not not wanting it gone is part of the programming. We’ll find out soon anyway.” he gritted his teeth, glaring at the ground as they open up the panel. Hah, ironic- he had never gotten a say in anything that had happened in his life, and now he wasn’t getting a say in the very thing stopping him from having a say getting removed. He tried to calm himself down as the fox plugged him in and went back to his computer, where there was now a plethora of code in place of the blank screen that had been there earlier. He could adapt to this. He could adapt to anything… in fact, if he deleted too much, he could capture this idiotic fox and go back there to get himself fixed.

Go back there? Oh god, what am I thinking?! He blinked a few times. There was something horribly, awfully wrong with him if he was legitimately thinking of returning there when he had a choice not to, just to get reprogrammed.

…He didn’t need to be awake for this. For them rummaging around in his brain and taking away his coding. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep the best he could to the sound of Nine clicking away on his computer. After who knows how long, his mind floated off into nothing and he was asleep.

(I wrote this back in 2022, lol. I’m much better at writing now, but hopefully this is still good! Tell me what you think if you want too ^^)

[mothcpu]

work doodles

[gilearstimboards]

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Spotted Hyena Stimboard

I'm not quite sure why I chose the other gifs, but I quite like them. :)

Credits: x x x | x x x | x x x

[phoenixcatch7]

Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

[lesbianboyfriend]

i want to feel the joy and wonder of a kid fucking around with a circuit board

[nobylite]

thinking about the ttyd peach and spm luigi parallels

[emotargaryen]

i feel genuine relief after getting another ssd for my computer as if IM the one who has a bunch of extra space in my brain. computer empath

[karmaalwayswins]

Mike Hawthorn (Le Mans Champion 1955, Formula 1 World Champion 1958), driving a D-Type Jaguar, dodges bicycles and narrates a reconnaissance lap around Le Mans in 1956.

Video Credit: Duke Video

[kxsagi]

OK BUT LIKE

BLLK VROTHERS REACTING WHEN THEIR LITTLE SISTER ASKED THEM TO WALK HER DOWN THE AISLE

maybe rin and sae together

LMAOOOO I IMAGINE THEM SOBBING (we know reo and bachira did lmaooooo

LOVE YOU

“𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞”

a/n: LOVE YOU TOOO

THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE

ft. mikage reo, bachira meguru, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, karasu tabito

mikage reo

the second the words leave your mouth: “reo, i want you to walk me down the aisle,” he genuinely short circuits. mouth hanging open, hand clutching his chest like an overdramatic disney princess. 

“i… oh my gosh. you mean it? me? me?” he sniffles. hard. “don’t do this to me, i just got a facial.” 

reo is acting like he just got nominated for an oscar. suddenly, he’s pulling up pinterest boards, wedding planners, and muttering things like, “okay, so your color palette is soft blush, but with maybe a mauve undertone… no wait, that’s too 2022. do we want more of a lavender-gray? do you want peacocks?” 

the man is GONE. emotionally. financially. spiritually. he’s designing matching custom outfits for the two of you. he tries to hire a mini orchestra to play you down the aisle. he practices different walking speeds just to see which tempo feels the most cinematic. 

and the night before the wedding, you find him curled up in a fluffy robe, hugging a childhood photo of the two of you and softly whispering, “my baby girl is getting married… what if i trip and ruin the moment? should i rehearse again?” 

on the day? he’s sobbing. like, ugly crying. “you’re the most beautiful bride in the whole world. even if you’re not wearing chanel.” 

bachira meguru

you go, “hey, i was wondering if you could walk me–” 

“YES. YES I WILL. A THOUSAND TIMES YES.” 

he jumps onto the couch like you just proposed. nearly knocks over a lamp. his shirt flies off somehow. there’s confetti? no one knows where it came from. 

this man starts training. like, literally. he builds a fake aisle out of cardboard in the living room and practices walking you down it with a random bouquet of plastic forks. 

“you think i can backflip down the aisle while holding your arm?” 

“NO.” 

“… what if i do it real slow?” 

at your dress fitting, he gasps so dramatically the stylist flinches. 

“OH MY GOSH. YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS WHO FIGHTS DRAGONS AND HEALS HEARTS AND *sniff* CAN STILL KICK MY ASS.” 

he cries into your veil. full on, snot-bubble sobs. 

on the actual wedding day, he has to stuff tissues in his sleeves because he knows he’s gonna leak from the eyes and nose. halfway down the aisle he starts whispering nonsense like, “okay don’t trip don’t cry don’t scream don’t do a handstand–” 

you elbow him. 

“right. serious. majestic. i got this.” 

immediately trips over your veil. 

isagi yoichi

when you ask him, he blinks like he’s buffering. “walk you down the aisle? me?” 

he goes quiet, then smiles. softly. that warm, older-brother grin. “i’d be honored.” 

but two hours later you catch him staring at your baby pictures on the couch with glassy eyes. he tries to act normal. 

“i’m not crying. i’m just… remembering. shut up.” 

this man treats your wedding like the world cup final. printed checklists. a backup boutonniere. mints in his pocket. he even puts deodorant on his ankles “just in case.” 

at your rehearsal, he holds your arm like it’s a sacred relic. guides you like a knight escorting royalty. whispers, “you’re so grown up now… don’t fall for any tricks. if he breaks your heart, i’ll break his knee.” 

you laugh. he’s dead serious. 

on the big day, he takes one look at you in your dress and just goes, “whoa.” and then his eyes water. but he doesn’t cry. no. he clenches his jaw like a soldier. 

his walk is steady, but his hand is squeezing yours like he’s sending morse code for “i love you forever.” 

itoshi rin

you ask, “rin, will you walk me down the aisle?” 

“… why?” 

“because you’re my brother, dummy. and i want you.” 

he stares. then turns around and mutters, “… fine.” 

you don’t hear a peep from him for days. you assume he doesn’t care. then you accidentally walk into his room and catch him… researching proper aisle etiquette on youtube. 

he slams the laptop shut like you caught him watching something else. “get out.” 

“… were you practicing your posture?” 

“GET OUT.” 

on the big day, he’s silent. tense. eyes sharp. suit crisp. he sees you in your dress and his whole face cracks. 

his lips twitch. his eyes look glassy. but he holds it in. barely. 

as he links arms with you, you hear him breathe, “you look really pretty.” 

you glance at him. 

“… shut up.” 

he’s definitely crying on the inside. 100%. 

before he hands you off, he looks the groom straight in the eye. 

“don’t hurt her. ever.” 

that’s not a threat. that’s a promise with consequences. 

itoshi sae

you go, “sae, will you walk me down the aisle?” 

he stares at you like you just asked him to do your taxes in a clown suit. “… why would i do that?” 

you pout. “because i want you to.” 

he shrugs. “i guess.” 

but then you hear him cancel a madrid training session the next week. he shows up to fittings. he critiques your groom like a stoic wine connoisseur. 

“his handshake is weak. is that really who you want?” 

“sae.” 

“… fine. 6.5 out of 10.” 

he’s the calmest one on the day of, until you put on your dress. then he blinks a little too slowly. clears his throat five times. 

“… you look alright.” 

“that’s it?” 

he glances at you again. “… you look better than alright. now stop looking at me like that.” 

(he totally cried in the car on the way home. never admits it.) 

nagi seishiro

you ask him and he just mumbles, “ugh, sounds like a hassle.” 

but then you add, “there’ll be snacks at the reception.” 

“what time’s the wedding again?” 

he tries to convince you to be carried down the aisle like a princess so he doesn’t have to walk. 

“what if i just teleport you?” 

“this isn’t an anime, seishiro.” 

“unfortunate.” 

he forgets he’s supposed to wear a suit and shows up in pajamas until reo throws a bowtie at his face. 

when he sees you all dressed up, he blinks. “… you’re sparkly.” 

he doesn’t cry. but he does hand you a gummy bear from his pocket and goes, “for strength.” 

(you still have it in your purse.) 

kaiser michael

“you want ME? the MICHAEL KAISER? to escort you down the aisle?” 

he flips imaginary hair. “obviously. i’ll have to outshine the bride a little, but i’ll try to tone it down.” 

you threaten to replace him with ness. he shuts up. 

he insists on glitter. refuses to walk to “boring music.” tries to choreograph a slow-motion runway strut. 

on the actual day, he’s the only one who bows to the guests and says “your majesty has arrived.” 

but when he sees you? he gets real quiet. 

“… you look beautiful, little star.” he means it. he really does. 

but then he adds, “thank goodness i moisturized today. otherwise i’d be crying and flaky.” 

karasu tabito

“me? walk you down the aisle? damn right i will. who else is gonna make sure this idiot doesn’t drop the ring?” 

he says it with a grin, but when he sees you in your dress he shuts up. fully stunned. 

“… shit.” 

“what?” 

“you’re really getting married, huh.” 

he pauses. 

“… don’t cry, you little gremlin.” 

he’s the one crying. quietly. behind his sunglasses. 

before he walks you down, he pops a mint in his mouth and goes, “you ready?” you nod. 

“cool. i’m gonna make a stupid face to ruin all the photos.” 

“don’t you da–” 

too late. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[delulu-julia]

TMNT 2012 x Very Touchy Reader

Omg Donnie’s part just HUGE…Well you can tell who’s my favourite turtle ahhaha ,’> this is my first writing, sorry if something is wrong, and I tried to do my best with their characters, but still I think there’s huge oc in the Mickey’s part…;( The first one is more for platonic, and second- for romance. I would appreciate any support from you. Like, repost—everything is welcome! Well, enjoy!

Before They Fell in Love:

Leonardo

Leo is polite about it. At first. He’s a leader, a ninja, a warrior—someone who’s trained his whole life to stay composed. Letting emotions get the best of him isn’t an option.

So, yeah, he doesn’t mind your affection, but he’s not sure if it’s… normal? You hug everyone, so does that mean it’s nothing special?

The first time you lean on him, he tenses up for a split second before slowly relaxing.

‘Okay, it’s just a friendly gesture. Friendly. Totally normal.’

Then it happens again. And again. A casual lean against his side. A playful nudge. Fingers brushing against his arm without a second thought.

But you don’t seem to notice. You just go about it like it’s completely natural. A casual touch here, a hug there, always comfortable in his space. It’s just… you.

And at some point, he stops flinching. He stops overthinking it. You lean against him, and he doesn’t move away. You grab his hand, and he lets you hold it.

That’s just how you are. It doesn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything. And that should be comforting.

And, well, surprisingly, it is

Raphael

“What the hell?!”

The first time it happens, you hit the nearest wall. Not because he’s mad. Not because he doesn’t like it. Just because—what the hell was that?!

Who just hugs someone like that out of nowhere? Who just leans on him like it’s normal? He doesn’t even know you that well! And what kind of person grabs his arm like that and—ugh, what do you even want?!

He’s not used to this. At all. His whole life, physical contact meant fighting. Training. Defending. Not… whatever the hell this is.

So yeah. He shoves you off. Hard. Maybe growls something like ���Keep your hands to yourself.” Maybe glares. Maybe acts like you personally offended him.

But you don’t stop. You never stop. You hug him, lean on him, sit too close, grab his hand—it’s like you don’t care how many times he tries to push you away.

And, somehow, he gets used to it. He still complains, still scoffs, still acts annoyed—but he doesn’t shove you anymore. Not really.

Because at some point, you stopped being just some newbie. At some point, you became part of the team. At some point, he started liking it…

Not that he’d ever admit that.

Donatello

At first, Donnie doesn’t think much of it. Sure, it’s unexpected—he’s not really used to people being so physically affectionate with him. (Or at all, really.) But he assumes it’s just part of your personality, a quirk like any other.

And, well… it’s nice. It’s warm.

A casual touch here, a light squeeze there—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A hand brushing against his arm when talking, leaning against his shoulder while watching him doing something on his lab, even fingers absentmindedly playing with his when you’re sitting close.

One second, he’s focused on his work, adjusting a circuit board or analyzing some data. The next? You’re leaning against him. Just—casually. Like it’s normal.

And suddenly, he forgets what numbers are. What was he doing? What was the problem? What’s his name again? Oh, right—flustered. His name is Flustered.

He tries to act natural, but he’s failing miserably. If you hug him? He malfunctions. If you grab his hand? He’s about to blue-screen. And the further you go, the more his head goes crazy

He starts assuming this means something. It has to, right? People don’t just do that. Not unless they—you know.

So he starts to wonder. Maybe you like him? Maybe this is your way of saying something? Maybe—

Oh. Oh no.

You do it to everyone. Of course... It’s just who you are. It doesn’t mean anything… maybe that's even good.

Michelangelo

Are you kidding? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him!

You hug him? He hugs back—tighter. You lean on him? He leans right back. You grab his arm? Guess what? You’ve got a new arm accessory now, and it’s him.

Mikey doesn’t just tolerate it—he thrives on it. He’s all about physical affection, and finally, finally, someone else in this lair gets it!

It’s like having a cuddle buddy on demand. Except you’re not just some buddy, you’re—you. And that makes it even better!

He loves how comfortable you are with him. Loves how easy it is. Loves how you don’t hesitate, don’t hold back, don’t act weird about it.

But, you know, he’s not delusional. He knows you’re just like that. He sees you do the same thing to Raph, Leo, Donnie—even April and Casey

And that’s cool! Totally cool

He doesn't care about last part. As long as you pay attention to him, and don't push him away, it’s okay. Mickey isn't prone to jealousy like that, especially in this context

After they fall in love:

Leonardo

Now, it’s a problem.

Because before, it was just a weird habit you had. Now? Now he notices every single time you do it.

Every hug, every touch, every time you casually rest your head on Donnie’s shoulder or grab Mikey’s hand or—ugh.

But he’s Leonardo. He’s not going to make it weird. He’s not going to ask you to stop. He’s not going to let it bother him.

Except… it does.

So he does what he always does—acts like it doesn’t. Keeps his posture straight, keeps his voice steady, keeps his feelings locked down.

And if, sometimes, he finds himself standing a little closer to you than necessary—if he lets you lean on him longer than the others—well…

…That’s just him being a good leader. Obviously.

Raphael

“Seriously? Again?…”

At first, he doesn’t think anything’s changed. You’re still acting the same. You’re still hugging him, leaning against him, grabbing his arm when you talk.

…But now, he’s hyper-aware of it.

Now, every time you touch him, his brain short-circuits. Every hug lasts too long. Every brush of your hand makes his skin tingle. Every time you lean against him, he has to force himself not to freeze up like an idiot.

And the worst part? You don’t even notice.

Because you do it to everyone. Leo. Donnie. Mikey. April. Even Casey.

And every single time, Raph has to fight the urge to rip them away from you.

It’s not like he’s jealous! (He is) But it’s not just that. It’s the fact that he thought—he hoped—maybe it meant something when you did it to him.

But it doesn’t. Because this is just who you are.

So he does what he always does—bottles it up, shoves it down, and tells himself it doesn’t matter. You don’t belong to him.

But damn… he wishes you did.

Donatello

Well…

You still hug him the same way. You still lean on him, casually brushing against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You still reach for his hand without a second thought, still curl up next to him on the couch whenever there’s room.

So why does it feel different now?

Why does his breath hitch every time you touch him? Why does his heart start pounding so hard he’s afraid you’ll hear it? Why does he suddenly crave it when you aren’t near?…

It’s fine. It’s fine. He just needs to get a grip, keep his cool, not let it get to him. He’s handled worse. He’s fought aliens. He’s hacked top-level security systems. He can survive this.

…And then he sees you do it to someone else.

And suddenly, it’s not fine.

He never cared before. He swears he didn’t. (Liar) But now, every time he watches you casually wrap an arm around Leo’s shoulders, every time you ruffle Mikey’s head or let Raph pull you into a playful headlock, it twists something sharp in his chest.

He’s stupid, right? You’ve always been like this. He knew that from the start. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, not like you’re trying to mess with him. This is just who you are.

And maybe that’s what bothers him the most.

It’s driving him crazy. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can just—just do that without thinking! Without thinking what he feels about it

Because when you do it with him, it’s everything. It means everything.

But when you do it with everyone else… maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.

And the worst part? He can’t even say anything. Because who is he to ask you to stop?

Michelangelo

At first, nothing really changes. Mikey’s still Mikey. Still grinning when you hug him, still throwing an arm around you whenever he can, still enjoying every second of it.

But then, one day, it hits him.

You hug everyone. You hold hands with everyone. You sit in people’s laps, drape yourself over their shoulders, peck on the other people cheek’s… and then go to him and act like it’s nothing.

And suddenly, it’s not fun anymore. Now its feels unfair. He used to love it, but now he wants more.

He starts stealing extra hugs. Holding on for just a bit longer. Staying next to you. And one day, he just… grabs you.

“Okay, my turn! Hug me! Now!”

(And he means it.)

Not because he wants to own you or anything—that’s not it! It’s just…

He thought maybe — just maybe — it was different with him.

But it’s not.

And that sucks.

[wqlfstqr]

Hii can you write Leo x Reader where r wears a dress or skirt and Leo can’t focus bc she looks soooooo perfect? ( friends to loversss ) idk i feel like it would be cute😅

⋆𐙚 short skirts and short circuits 𖥻 leo valdez

▰▰ pairing : leo valdez x fem!reader

Leo has tried way too hard not to crush on his best friend. But when she suddenly decides to wear a skirt— yeah. That'll be a problem for him.

mari talks! i love leo requests hehe

warnings: no use of y/n, no cabin mentioned for reader.

Leo Valdez is great with machines. Engines, gears, blueprints, schematics. He knows it all. That's his thing. And he excels at it.

With humans, on the other hand... He isn't that great in that department. Especially when it comes to girls. Definitely when it comes to his best friend casually wearing a skirt around him.

She has always been cute. He knows that. Adorable. With paint on her fingers half the time, hair always pulled back into a ponytail, denim overalls over her camp orange shirt.

She has been his person since day one at camp. The one that always had his back— comfort in the shape of the only girl who doesn't treat him like a ticking time bomb. So yeah, Leo has always found her beautiful, to say the least.

But she isn't supposed to look like that.

She isn't supposed to just come into bunker nine wearing a skirt. A short skirt. And makeup that make her eyes sparkle in a way he thinks not even fireworks could replicate.

Safe to say, he almost sets something on fire the second his eyes fall on her.

"Hey." She says casually, like she didn't just rewrite the laws of his universe.

He drops his wrench with a loud clank. "Uh- hello."

Smooth. Real smooth, Leo.

He blinks at her, totally stunned. "Are you... going somewhere?"

"No? Just felt like dressing up." She shrugs.

Dressing up. Just because. Just felt like turning Leo's world upside down. Perfect.

Leo turns back to his half-built project and wills his hands to stop shaking. Focus. Focus on the bolts. Not the way her skirt twirls when she moves. Not the way her lips shine with lipgloss.

"Watcha working on today?" She comes closer to him, and Leo feels as stiff as a board.

"I— um— a new..." Gods, has he forgotten how to talk? "Stabilizer for- y'know... Festus."

She probably doesn't realize what she's doing to him, because she simply smiles and sits on a nearby stool, propping her chin on her hand to watch him work. Like always. Except this time, she's swinging her legs, almost as if she has a personal vendetta against his attention span.

He fumbles for the wrench again and nearly knocks over an entire tray of gears.

"You okay?" she asks, innocent and sweet and so pretty, Leo thinks it should probably be illegal.

"I—I'm fine. Yep. Totally. Great." His voice cracks a little. "Just short-circuited a little. I mean. Not me. The gear. Yeah, the gear short-circuited. I'm... great."

"You're acting weird." She giggles. "And I mean, weirder than usual."

"I'm acting..." Leo turns to look at her, eyes wide, hands shaking. "You're the one acting weird! You— Look at you! It looks like you're actively trying to melt my CPU."

She tilts her head, giggling innocently as if she doesn't understand what she's doing. Meanwhile, her legs are still softly swinging and the lipgloss shines under the light. This is so unfair.

"You're staring." She teases, but she can't help the way her voice sounds a little hopeful.

Leo opens his mouth. Closes it. Then opens it again.

"I'm not— I mean. Maybe. A little?" He scratches the back of his head. "It's not my fault you came in here looking like that, okay?"

"Like what?" Her eyes widen, mocking innocense as she stands up and walks closer to him.

He points to the skirt as if it personally tried to end him. Which, it really did. Almost killed him.

She raises her eyebrows, looking down as if she just realized she's wearing that damn skirt. "So the skirt's the problem?"

"No! I mean— there’s no problem with the skirt." He groans, hiding his face behind a dirty rag. "It's just... I'm— I've been trying hard. Really hard not to have a crush on you for like, years, and now you just show up like this and— and you really can't do that!"

"Why can't I? I mean it's just—" She stops once she has fully processed his words, the teasing smile drops from her face, replaced by something more softed, almost vulnerable. "You have a crush on me?"

Leo blinks at her, surprised. "I mean, obviously? Have you met you?"

There’s a beat of silence, her cheeks feel warm and it's definitely not because of the steam always coming from whatever Leo's working on.

"And you look pretty." He blurts out, feeling more nervous as the silence stretches. "I mean, you always look pretty. But like— extra pretty. Today. Right now."

"Are you flirting with me, Valdez?" She asks, voice suddenly unsure even as she tries to keep teasing him.

"No. I mean. Yes? I'm trying to." He admits, looking down. "I never really know what i'm doing when i'm around you."

She stares at him for a second, lips parted as if she's trying to figure out if she heard him right. And then she laughs. For a second, Leo thinks she's laughing at him. But no. That laugh is not teasing or mean, it just sounds... relieved.

"Leo." She says softly, smiling at him. "I've been trying to flirt with you for months."

His eyes snap up. "What?"

"Yeah." Hesitantly, she steps a little closer to him. "But since you never acknowledged it, I just kinda figured... you weren't interested."

Leo thinks maybe he'll be exploding like his inventions in just about any second.

He scrubs a hand down his face. "Gods, I'm so dumb."

She giggles, reaching to pull his hand down, instead taking it in hers. "Maybe just a little oblivious?"

"Definitely." He agrees, finally dropping the rag he has been torturing with his hands. "But—"

He takes a deep breath, eyes connecting with hers as he hesitantly places his hand on her waist. He tugs her closer, guiding her to stand between his legs where he's sitting.

"This is me noticing." He tells her, voice still unsure. "And the flirting? It's working. Really working. Like i'm about five seconds from completely short-circuiting."

She's blushing, he can see it now that he's closer. "So... what happens now?"

Leo doesn’t know where he finds the courage to, but instead of replying, he's suddenly leaning forward, heart in his throat. And he kisses her.

She melts into it immediately, like this is something she has been waiting too long for. And it's a little messy. But it's perfect, because it's them.

When they finally break apart, she rests her forehead against his, a smile tugging on her lips, the lipgloss smeared. "I should definitely wear skirts more often."

He groans. "I'm never getting anything done ever again."

But Leo Valdez has never been more glad to short-circuit.

[hannie-bees]

Pieces of you || c.hs

Pairing: Vernon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, domestic, romantic, comfort

WC: 1.9K

Theme: Its your 2nd anniversary and you gift your bf a jar of 100 reasons why you love him. 

Song Recommendation: 10000 Hours

Two years.

You’d been with Vernon for two whole years.

And yet, somehow, when your anniversary rolled around, your brain decided to take a vacation. The “what to get him” panic had set in early—weeks of browsing, scrolling through Pinterest boards titled “Anniversary Gift Ideas for Your Lowkey Emotional Musician Boyfriend", and endless Etsy deep-dives later, you caved and bought him a Rolex.

Now…

You were this close to a breakdown.

It was two nights before your second anniversary with Vernon, and you were dramatically sprawled across the living room carpet, surrounded by Google tabs, half-finished card drafts, and a fancy black velvet box from the Rolex boutique that now made you want to scream.

“Why did I do this?” You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face. “It’s so low-effort boyfriend-gift-core.”

To be fair, you’d panicked. Vernon had mentioned once in passing that he admired classic timepieces, and your brain short-circuited into: oh my god, fancy anniversary = man + watch = love. But the more you stared at the sleek, expensive thing, the more you hated it.

Because Vernon wasn’t a Rolex kind of boyfriend.

He was the boyfriend who saved the last bite of every snack for you even if he was starving. The boyfriend who left you post-it notes with doodled hearts on mornings he had early schedules. The boyfriend who wordlessly held you until your anxiety stopped clawing at your throat. Who remembered you liked your toast golden brown and your strawberry milk with extra ice cubes.

A watch didn’t cover all that. He deserved more.

And that's how you found yourself in your sweats, surrounded by crumpled sticky notes and a half-eaten box of cookies, trying to figure out how to tell him what he meant to you.

That’s when it clicked.

Words. Words were always the answer.

He’d once told you that you had a way of making ordinary things feel important, and maybe—just maybe—writing them down would remind him how much of your life he lit up.

You counted out a hundred sticky notes. Soft pastels in a mix of pinks, blues, and greens. And you began writing.

Your gummy smile. The first thing I fell for. It’s unfair. You smile, and I forget how to function.

The way you think. You process the world so gently and deeply—it makes me fall in love every day.

The way you love. Not loud, not flashy. Just right. Just… you. You don’t say it often, but you show it, always.

You understand me—even when I don’t make sense. Especially when I don’t.

You’re patient. With my bad days. My weird moods. You never make me feel wrong for needing time. You just… get me. You listen between the words.

You never make me feel stupid. Not when I forget things. Not when I panic. You just hold space.

You’re weird. The good kind. The dancing-in-the-kitchen, talking-to-cats, doing-a-fake-British-accent kind. The I’m-gonna-marry-you kind.

You send me memes when I’m upset. Usually cursed ones. It works.

You’re honest. Always. Even when it’s awkward or hard.

You give me the aux cord without even asking.

You laugh at my bad jokes like they deserve Oscars.

You kiss my forehead when I overthink.

You listen. Like, really listen. Like, “remembers things I said 4 months ago while half-asleep” listen.

You let me take the first bite of your food even when you’re starving.

You say, “Text me when you get home,” even if I’m just going to the convenience store.

You kept going, hour after hour. You wrote them curled up on the couch, with lo-fi playing and your legs tangled in a blanket you stole from his side of the bed. You wrote them the next morning, stirring pancake batter with one hand and scribbling thoughts with the other.

Each note was like a breadcrumb trail back through your relationship. The quiet mornings. The messy fights. The making up. The comfort.

The you-and-him-ness of it all.

27. You let me warm my hands on your stomach in winter, even though you hate it.

39. You rap under your breath when you’re concentrating. I pretend not to notice. You pretend not to see me smiling.

41. You never let go first during hugs.

57. You carry my bags without making a show of it.

69. You tell me “I love you” like it’s a fact, not a performance.

72. You say “I got you” instead of “it’s okay.” And somehow it feels like both.

88. You’re just… you. And that’s more than enough.

99. You remembered I always wanted to be seen. You saw me. Even when I couldn’t see myself.

100. You’re my safe place. My home. My favorite person.

You folded each sticky note carefully into a tiny square, dropping them into a clear jar one by one until it was full—your love made tangible, note by note, word by word.

___

Anniversary Morning

You woke before Vernon did, still tangled up in the shared comforter. His hand was loosely curled on your waist, chest rising and falling in that steady, sleepy rhythm that always grounded you.

You turned slightly to look at him.

His features were soft with sleep, lips parted just barely, hair tousled and flopping into his eyes. Your eyes trailed down to the tiny mole near his cheek—the one he always forgot he had until you kissed it and your heart squeezed.

Happy anniversary, you whispered in your mind. To the boy who doesn’t need to say much to make you feel everything.

___

You gave him the Rolex first.

He blinked at the box, then at you. “...Babe.”

“What?” you said with a grin. “You love watches.”

He opened it slowly, then whistled. “Okay, I do. But this is—this is a lot.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You deserve nice things.”

He leaned in, kissing your cheek with a quiet, “Thank you, really,” but you could tell from the way he pulled you into his side that he knew something was up.

___

Later that Evening

The sun was setting, casting honey-colored light through the apartment windows. You stood awkwardly in the living room, the jar tucked behind your back, your stomach flipping.

He was lounging on the couch in a hoodie and sweats, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, a bowl of cereal in his lap even though it was almost dinner time. He looked up when you stepped in.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly.

Then, without a word, you walked over and placed the jar on the coffee table in front of him, before diving onto the couch, grabbing a throw pillow, and hiding behind it like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

He stared at the jar. Then at you. Then back at the jar decorated with little cloud stickers and a label that simply read: 100 Reasons I Love You (and Counting)…

His brow furrowed slightly as he set his cereal aside and picked it up. “What’s this?”

Your voice was muffled behind the pillow. “Read it.”

He opened the lid and pulled out one of the tiny folded notes, unfolding it carefully.

1. Your gummy smile.

The reason I fell for you. It makes everything else feel softer.

You peeked out from behind the pillow.

He blinked. Then pulled out another.

2. The way you think.

You have such a beautiful way with words; I could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored.

And another.

 3. The way you love.

Not loud, not performative. But steady, gentle. I always feel it. You don’t need to say a thing.

By the time he’d reached the fifth one—

5. Your patience.

You’ve never made me feel stupid for not knowing something. You make me feel safe enough to ask.

—His hand had slowed.

He looked over at you, eyes glassy.

“YN… What is this?”

You hugged the pillow tighter to your chest. “I felt like a Rolex wasn’t enough, too boring. So I made this too. It’s a hundred reasons why I love you.”

Vernon stared at the jar in his hands like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.

Then he laughed softly, almost breathless, shaking his head in disbelief. “You wrote me a hundred love notes.”

“Every single one?”

“Every single one.”

You mumbled from behind the pillow, “It was either that or a custom rap verse about how hot your hands are. I figured this was less embarrassing.”

He laughed, soft and disbelieving, and then took another.

 12. You send me random memes in the middle of the day, and somehow they’re always exactly what I needed.

Like, you just know.

18. You never force me to talk when I’m not ready. You just sit next to me. That’s more comforting than anything.

29. The way you rub your thumb over the back of my hand when we’re holding hands. You probably don’t even notice you do it.

He swallowed, and his voice came out a little choked. “You remembered all these things?”

“Of course I did,” you whispered. “They’re pieces of you. How could I forget? ”

38. You tell me you’re proud of me—even when I haven’t done much.

43. Your hoodie always smells like you, and I secretly steal it when you leave for the studio.

52. You once offered to watch a horror movie just because I wanted to, and you ended up hiding behind my pillow. Adorable.

 68. You once said, “You’re my favorite place to be.” I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

He pulled another one out, smiling through teary eyes.

Then he got to one that made him pause.

 73. That night you thought I’d leave you… I wish I’d told you then how wrong you were.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m always here.

He paused at number 73. His hands stopped moving. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of his breath.

He looked at you then, completely undone, the kind of emotion that Vernon rarely let the world see.

Gently setting the jar aside, he leaned over and tugged the pillow away from your face.

“Babe,” he whispered. “Come here.”

You climbed into his lap with a shy smile, arms looping around his neck.

His hands cradled your waist. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”

You tucked your face into his neck, grinning. “Only when it comes to you.”

He laughed, pulling you in tighter. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Like, ever.”

You pulled back slightly, brushing his hair out of his face. “I just needed you to know. In case I don’t say it enough. I love you. A lot.”

His eyes searched for yours, warm and shining. “You show it in a hundred ways every day. I just have proof now.”

He kissed your forehead.

Then your cheek.

Then, finally, your lips—slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

___

Bonus:

He started carrying one note in his wallet every day like a lucky charm.

Whenever he traveled, you’d get a photo—your jar of pastel notes sitting right on his nightstand.

And six months later, you opened your laptop to find a document named Reasons I Love You: Draft Version 1. He never let you read it. Not then.

But a year later, he printed it out. Bound it like a book. Gave it to you on your third anniversary.

The title?

Chapter 1 of Forever.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[ssulvyyy]

favorite person

-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairing: kmj x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: too much fluff, ceo minji, reader is a college student, workaholic, etc

----------------------------------------------------------------

it had started with a text. now, an hour later, yn was curled up on the plush couch in minji’s office, absently scrolling through her phone as her girlfriend worked through yet another late night at the office.

she had tried to stay entertained. she really had. but after finishing dinner, sneaking glances at minji, and even attempting to read through her own study notes, boredom had set in.

minji, as usual, was hyper-focused—brows furrowed, fingers typing swiftly, completely lost in the world of high-stakes business deals and never-ending emails. yn wasn’t sure if she was more impressed or concerned.

she huffed dramatically. “minmin..”

minji hummed in response, still typing.

yn pouted. “i could be home, wrapped in my blanket, watching terrible rom-coms. but no, i’m here, neglected.”

minji finally glanced up, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. “neglected?”

“yes.” yn sat up, crossing her arms. “you invited me here and then proceeded to ignore me.”

minji leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. “i did feed you.”

“that doesn’t count.”

minji chuckled and stood up, stretching slightly before walking over. she perched on the edge of the couch, tilting her head as she studied yn.

“i’m almost done,” she said softly. “just a little longer.”

yn sighed but melted a little at the gentle tone. minji was a ceo, sure, but to yn, she was just minji—the woman who always took her coffee order by memory, the woman who would drape her blazer over yn’s shoulders when she got cold, the woman who—

yn blinked when minji suddenly leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead.

her brain short-circuited.

“…you’re trying to distract me so I stop complaining,” yn accused, though her voice had noticeably softened.

Minji smiled. “is it working?”

“maybe.”

minji chuckled and playfully poked yn’s cheek before standing up again. “i’ll make it up to you later, okay?”

yn huffed but nodded, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to her chest. “fine. But i’m holding you to that.”

---

thirty minutes later

minji had promised to finish soon, but the minutes kept dragging on. yn had dozed off at some point, curled up in the corner of the couch, the city skyline casting a soft glow into the office.

she was in the middle of a light sleep when the sound of minji’s office phone vibrating startled her awake.

she rubbed her eyes groggily and peeked over at minji, who was still working, a deep crease forming between her brows as she read through something on her screen. the glow from her monitor highlighted the sharp angles of her face, but there was a tiredness there, a tension in her shoulders that yn recognized all too well.

she frowned. “minji.”

no response.

yn stood up and shuffled over, wrapping her arms around minji from behind. “take a break.”

minji stiffened slightly at first, but then her shoulders relaxed. yn rested her chin on minji’s shoulder, peering at the laptop screen.

“nusiness acquisitions?” she mumbled sleepily.

minji chuckled. “something like that.”

“sounds boring.”

“it is.”

yn sighed dramatically. “do stop doing it.”

minji turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing against yn’s. “if i don’t, my board members will hunt me down.”

“let them,” yn grumbled. “i’ll fight them.”

minji laughed—properly laughed—and yn smiled at the sound.

“come on,” yn urged, pulling back slightly. “it’s late. you need sleep. i need sleep. let’s go home.”

minji hesitated, but when she glanced at the time and saw it was well past midnight, she finally sighed in defeat.

“…fine.”

yn beamed.

minji shut her laptop and stood up, stretching. but before she could take a step, yn reached for her hand.

minji raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“you work too hard,” yn murmured, tracing circles on minji’s palm with her thumb. “i worry about you.”

minji’s expression softened. without a word, she pulled yn into a proper hug, wrapping her arms around her waist. yn melted into the embrace, pressing her face against minji’s shoulder.

“…you really stayed here for me,” minji murmured after a moment.

“of course i did.”

minji pulled back slightly, cupping yn’s cheek with a gentle touch. “thank you.”

yn rolled her eyes but smiled. “you’re welcome. now, can we go home before i actually pass out in your office?”

minji chuckled. “alright, alright.”

she grabbed her blazer and draped it over yn’s shoulders before intertwining their fingers and leading her toward the elevator.

as they stepped inside, Minji squeezed yn’s hand.

“tomorrow night,” she said, “we’ll do that terrible rom-com night. no work. just us.”

yn grinned, leaning into minji’s side.

“deal.”

and as the elevator doors closed, she knew—no matter how hectic minji’s world got, no matter how different their lives seemed—minji would always make space for her.

and that was more than enough.

---

the drive back to minji’s apartment was quiet, comfortable. yn had dozed off somewhere between the city lights and the soft hum of the car, her head resting against the passenger seat

minji glanced down at her with a small smile. it was rare for yn to stay quiet for this long—usually, she was rambling about school, sending minji tiktoks at an alarming rate, or complaining about how she was “too pretty” to be writing research papers.

she must’ve been really tired.

by the time they arrived, yn was only half awake, blinking blearily as minji helped her out of the car and guided her toward the elevator.

“did i fall asleep?” yn mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

minji chuckled. “only for a little while.”

“i was supposed to keep you entertained,” yn pouted. “worst girlfriend ever.”

minji smirked, squeezing her hand. “you’re the best girlfriend, actually.”

yn hummed sleepily, leaning against minji’s side as they stepped into the penthouse. The warm scent of minji’s apartment wrapped around them—subtle vanilla, fresh linen, and something uniquely her.

yn immediately beelined for the couch, flopping onto it with zero grace. .inji watched in amusement as she curled up into a ball, hugging one of the pillows.

“comfy?” minji teased.

“mmhm.”

minji shook her head, fondness evident in her eyes. “at least change into something more comfortable first.”

yn groaned dramatically but forced herself up. minji had long since given her a designated drawer in her closet, and she lazily grabbed one of minji’s oversized hoodies before trudging into the bathroom to change.

when she came back, minji was already in her own sleepwear—black sweatpants and a fitted tank top—and was fluffing the pillows on the bed.

yn grinned, padding over. “wow, kim minji fluffing pillows for me? what an honor.”

minji rolled her eyes but smiled. “you act like i don’t do this every time you stay over.”

yn crawled onto the bed, immediately stealing minji’s pillow and hugging it. minji sighed but didn’t bother fighting her for it, simply turning off the bedside lamp before sliding under the covers.

the moment she lay down, yn draped herself over minji like a human koala.

minji chuckled. “comfortable?”

"mhm,” yn murmured sleepily. “you’re warm.”

minji wrapped her arms around yn, pulling her closer. “uou’re clingier than usual.”

yn whined. “i missed you.”

minji’s heart softened. She ran her fingers through yn’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “i missed you too."

yn hummed in contentment. “you better keep your promise about the rom-com night tomorrow.”

minji smiled. “i will.”

a comfortable silence settled over them, the distant sounds of the city below fading into the background. minji felt yn’s breathing even out, her body completely relaxed against her.

she tightened her hold slightly, pressing her lips to the top of yn’s head.

“goodnight, baby,” she whispered.

yn, half-asleep, mumbled, “my favorite person, love you”

minji froze for half a second, her heart skipping a beat. then, she smiled, warmth flooding through her.

“i love you too,” she whispered back.

and with that, she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off with yn safely in her arms.

---

[jbbuckybarnes]

Soulmate Subscription [LN4]

✨ Lando Norris x Reader (Y/N)

Author's note: Listen, the state of the world has become so ass that now after almost two years of not writing fanfic this 26yo is back at writing a bit to reduce stress. Don't expect me to be back fully because this unfortunately doesn't pay the bills (oh to be a nepo partner that can just do this on the side...i digress).

Warnings: Bro, I have never been to a GP, especially not as a VIP, so I have no clue how this shit works logistically. Reader is Lan's age because I said so, have fun being 25/26 y'all. Also zero proofreading and written past midnight. Formatting is bad because I posted from my phone...we run on vibes here the way Ferrari engineers do.

Prompt Used: Soulmate AU where you receive a monthly box containing clues to find your soulmate. (by @soulmate-au-bargain-bin) & "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you"

Since the day you turned 18 in 2017 you had gotten small things sent to you in the mail that hinted at your soulmate. Some people took the clues and figured out their soulmates pretty fast, others took well into their 50s because their soulmate had such an average and difficult to guess life. The problem with your boxes was that you could tell this soulmate had a very uncommon hobby, motorsports, but you couldn't pinpoint it much further.

You had gotten sketches of helmets, a rag with motor oil on it, a map of the Silverstone circuit in the UK, an F1 pass, a nameless boarding ticket for a flight to Las Vegas, a small container of hair gel and a black shirt. All of those things didn't narrow it down. You could tell the person was into racing, but if it was as a fan or a hobby driver themselves didn't quite get across. Anyone could go to a race somewhere and anyone could be into tuning their own car or driving karts every now and then. The small clues weren't of any help so far and at age 26 you wondered if your life was interesting enough to even get your soulmate any closer to your identity. You liked taking the occasional dance class and walks in nearby nature. A concert every couple months and writing personal essays also weren't very identifying.

This months package arrived at the expected time, but it was bigger this time. You took it to your bed and grabbed the way too oversized cutter knife. Inside the box was a blue and orange piece of cloth with a number four on it. It seems to have been cut out of something actually wearable but the material was thicker than a usual shirt or jacket. You looked at the striped orange design of the number and grabbed your phone to look up the couple racing series you were familiar with by now, Formula E, NASCAR, Indycar, WEC, MotoGP, F4, F3, F2, F1. Who has a number four? F1 – "Number 4, Lando Norris, driving for McLaren" you mumbled to yourself. So your soulmate must be a fan of him maybe. He looked cute, a little fuckboy-ish if you were honest.

You looked at the cut out of the cloth more closely and noticed something stuck to the back of it. A piece of paper with something bunched up behind it.

"One of these days it'll have to work. No clue if I can will into existence what the universe sends you, but I'll keep trying to get you to a race. Watch this arrive after the race..." you quietly read the semi-fucked up handwriting and grabbed what is stuck between the cloth and the note. A pass reading "All-Access VIP – Belgian GP in Spa-Francorchamps – Hosted by: McLaren F1 Team"

Your eyes went wide, "Holy..." You didn't know a lot about racing other than the basics but you knew these were probably worth thousands.

"Guess I'll have to figure out how to get to Belgium."

—

You were standing in the humid heat of the European summer. The denim jacket that you had sewn the #4 cloth to on the back was already tied around your hips because the heat was unbearable. How were people doing this three days in a row?

You finally entered the circuit, not a clue of where to go next, but you were sure you'd figure it out. After all, VIP means there aren't many places you couldn't go. And somehow asking someone in a VIP area for help felt less odd to you, there must be rich people here all the time that don't usually do this.

Orange and McLaren is all you knew to look out for. Not that you would mind accidentally ending up in Ferrari heaven, but at this point you had caught up a bit on the sport and knew they weren't doing as well this year as expected. You walked down a mini road full of people between the paddock and mini houses that the teams brought with them everywhere.

A stressed-looking man in blue and white team gear walked by you with a bit of an entourage. You knew that one from the algorithm playing out a video of his to you. Carlos something with S.

In the distance you could spot shiny orange on one side and a bustling entry to the garage on the other side. Like orange little worker bees. You knew the shiny home is most likely where you'd find some water aka what you were sweating out in buckets at that moment.

You dodged your way through media representatives and people making a thousand times what you make a day and finally made your way in and beelined for a worker next to a barebones bar setup.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Just cold water, it's like walking through soup today."

"July races will do that to you." The person answered politely.

"At least there's some cooling in here." You took the cup with a small thanks.

"Almost too cold." You looked at the worker noticing them wearing a long sleeve. And they were right, five more minutes in there and you'd probably feel like you're in Antarctica. That electricity bill must be insane.

You drank the water and put your jacket back on.

"I don't know how people do this almost every week. I'd go insane from all the sensory inputs."

"You get used to it." They shrugged with a smile.

You heard the entrance to the motorhome become louder and a man entered with his racing overall half down. You knew that one, he was leading the championship right now. You weren't very keen on asking for pictures here, it's not like you were a big motorsports fan. He also just looked like he wanted his peace, so you focused back on staring holes into the walls of the McLaren home. You didn't notice the little lookover he gave you once he had walked past you.

Free Practice wasn't interesting you that much if you were honest. You'd watch the second one today but cars going fast were just cars going fast at the end of the day, you had two more days to see that. Plus finding your way to a place where you could watch was another mission.

"What do you mean it worked?" "Look." You heard two voices going back and forth behind you.

"I think I might throw up." "God, you're so dramatic." You looked towards the entrance but not behind you. You were nosy but not THAT nosy.

"Oh my god, how would I even introduce myself?" "Like you usually do?" "Os, this isn't fucking usual, not everyone magically went to school with their forever person the way you did." "If you don't talk to her, I will." "Oh hell nah, mate." "Well, I tried. Good look, Lan."

It got quiet around you, the two bickering voices had stopped, many people were already heading out to go watch FP2 in a bit, the worker had struck up a conversation with a rich-looking older lady.

A male figure appeared next to, "Nice jacket. I mean, hi. I mean...ugh, I won't even attempt to save that first impression." You giggled and looked up. Oh, the cute fuckboy-ish guy looking thrown off was kinda adorable, you had to admit.

"Hi. Lando, right?" He gave a small nod.

"Can I ask where'd you get it from,..." "Y/N" "Y/N" He said it very carefully as if he would need to remember it.

"I don't know, just kind of arrived one day." "Like a certain box that arrives every month?" "Maybe..."

He eyed you more intently, "That's from a race suite in my first season of F1. I figured I'd try to attach something to it and lose it on purpose."

You blinked at him trying to process, "HUH?"

"I'll need a little more input than that." He gave a boyish little grin but looked unsure.

"I just thought my soulmate would be a big fan of yours or working for you or something." He shrugged innocently.

"Oh boy." You exhaled, making him raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, are you expecting me to process that immediately surrounded by that much sensory input?" He chuckled and shook his head, "My bad, I should've expected absolute confusion."

There was a short silence, "I assume you're not much of a motorsports fan?"

"Eh...it's not my first choice, but some of the faces are hard to dodge in advertising." He gave a wide grin to you.

He looked down at his watch, "10 more minutes of being allowed to dodge my responsibilities. You wanna talk...uh, elsewhere." You nodded.

You weren't really expecting to be dragged into a tiny room while Oscar gave you a look that read as "He's always this idiotic."

"Well, uh, this is cozy..." You stood there, a bit too close to him.

"Yeah, they don't really make big drivers rooms." His hand went through his curly hair.

"At least it's more quiet." You exhaled at the relaxation level your nervous system reached.

"You need ear plugs for the weekend?" He grabbed a round little plastic casing and handed it to you.

"Uh, thanks." "If you needed it I'd literally give you what I'm wearing right now if I wasn't legally required to wear it." He chuckled.

You blinked at him again, processing.

"Sorry, that was a bit over the top. But I meant it as in 'I'd give my soulmate anything', you know?"

You nodded, still processing.

"Am I making this awkward or are you just overwhelmed?" He asked half concerned, half to lighten up the tension.

You exhaled, "Both."

"I'm not the best with first impressions I've heard." He admitted.

"No no, I think it's cute." Now both of you were flustered.

"I always expected there to be this ideal way I'd meet my soulmate. You know that moment some people talk about." "Oh, like the, we don't need to know each other, we'll kiss first and talk second kinda stories." You both giggled.

"I mean..." He looked at you clearly jokingly flirty.

"You excude too much fuckboy energy for that to ever have been a possibility." You laughed.

He feigned offense but instantly stopped and said, "Yeah no, I can see it, my PR people were working hard on that one."

"Oh, I have not seen any PR surrounding you, that's literally just your energy." "Okay NOW I'm offended, wow!"

You both broke into laughter.

"If I win this Sunday, will you change your mind?" He looked like he liked to play with fire.

"Things only a fuckboy would ask." "Well, would you?" "Are we still talking about a kiss or me not calling out your fuckboy energy?"

He caged you in a little, not in an overbearing way, you could easily leave.

"Bit of both." A short silence, "Blushing, are we?"

"Shut up." You mumbled looking away and he chuckled.

"I'll just assume that's a yes?" You met his gaze, "Yeah."

He looked at his wrist next to your head, "Well, gorgeous, wanna watch FP2 from the coolest place of all?"

"You're assuming that wouldn't be my couch for me." He laughed at that.

"I mean I guess that's nicer than in the garage with my headset on." He eyed you, "But that wouldn't be very future wife of you."

You hid your face behind your hands, "Stop it!"

"I'll think about it, darling." He grabbed one of your hands and opened the door of the drivers room again.

His hand switched to the small of your back, guiding you through way too many people to the garage and all the shebang in there.

"Lando!" Someone in the garage called out. "Gimme one second!" His face was focused putting his headphones on you, then he gave you a self-satisfied smile, "See you in a bit, Y/N."

You had to admit, a man in a race suit wasn't the worst person you could've gotten as a soulmate. You definitely didn't mind looking at him. Or his driving.

Or the way he still looked good while sweaty after the helmet came back off after the hour of free practice.

"Is it legal to still look good when sweaty?" You joked as he walked towards you.

"I don't know, you tell me." He brushed over your forehead with the towel he was holding.

"Didn't even give me the opportunity to be offended." He grinned self-satisfied at that.

"I should probably get you some team gear so you won't die out here tomorrow." He said more to himself than your while taking the headphones from you again.

"Ew, orange." "You could also wear my shirts." He shrugged and smirked as he watched you processing yet again.

You were dragged back to the driver's room, "I like the way your brain just short circuits when I flirt with you."

"You just wait until I feel comfortable enough to throw that back at you." You pretended to be offended as the door shut behind you.

"Looking forward to it." He winked at you before taking off his fireproofs. Act normal, act normal, act normal.

He put on a shirt before his hands went to the rest of his overalls...you turned around, this man was insane, unhinged, crazy.

"You can look again." He looked at you a bit sorry when you turned around again, but only a bit.

"You're unhinged." He giggled because you were right.

"You like it." "...unfortunately."

He caged you in again, "Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as want to kiss you right now."

"Dunno, it's giving kiss first, talk second soulmate stories." You teased, but put your arms around his neck.

"I still can't believe that deliberately losing something worked." You could feel his breath on you lips.

"Still can't believe my soulmate is a dumbass driving 300kph." You both giggled before closing the distance.

You didn't expect him to be so...soft and featherlight.

"I have a feeling I'll be in trouble if I don't win this week." You gave him a challenging smirk in response.

"I'd date you either way, but I'd say it's a bonus." "I feel like your existence in my life now is already a bonus."

"You're so corny." You laughed at him.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry?" He held his hands up.

"Don't be. I like it." Soft smiles were interchanged.

"Wanna sneak off and order food?" "As long as an AC is involved." He laughed and grabbed you, expertly sneaking you out of the circuit, into his hotel and spent all evening explaining his life to you between slices of pizza.

[lnfours]

hi love! i was wondering if you could write an imagine based off the prompt: kisses on the tip of the nose with zipping or buttoning their jackets for them with Lando?

anon, im picturing doing this while zipping up his racesuit and now i am a hysterical mess.

prompts: kisses on the tip of the nose zipping or buttoning their jacket for them

blurb day to cure my writers block

the garage was loud ahead of the singapore grand prix, the team anxious to go racing under the night lights of the street circuit. your boyfriend had made his way over to you, smiling big with love in his eyes that he only had for you.

you placed a soft kiss on his lips, pulling him in closer by his unzipped race suit. he hummed sweetly at the taste of your favorite chapstick, nose brushing against yours as your fingers fiddled with the zipper to the suit.

your smile only grew wider when he placed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "thank you for coming, baby."

"you know i wouldn't have missed this for the world."

it was true, you attended every race your schedule allowed. singapore was no exception.

you fastened the velcro at the top of the suit, turning and handing him the brightly colored helmet.

"one more kiss before i go?" he asked with those sweet, puppy dog eyes. the ones you folded for. every. single. time.

how could you say no to that?

you placed one last kiss on his lips before he tugged the balaclava over his messy brown curls, but the beautiful color of his greenish greyish eyes were still locked with yours.

"good luck," your voice was sweet, "see you at the p1 board."

he smiled, not that you could see the boys smile through his helmet, but you could tell by the way his eyes creased at the corners, "better see you front and center."

"wouldn't catch me anywhere else."

[reasonsforhope]

"As the world grows “smarter” through the adoption of smartphones, smart fridges, and entire smart houses, the carbon cost of that technology grows, too. 

In the last decade, electronic waste has become one of the fastest-growing waste streams in the world. 

According to The World Counts, the globe generates about 50 million tons of e-waste every year. That’s the equivalent of 1,000 laptops being trashed every second. 

After they’re shipped off to landfills and incinerated, the trash releases toxic chemicals including lead, cadmium, arsenic, mercury, and so much more, which can cause disastrous health effects on the populations that live near those trash sites. 

Fortunately, Franziska Kerber — a university student at ​​FH Joanneum in Graz, Austria — has dreamed up a solution that helps carve away at that behemoth problem: electronics made out of recyclable, dissolvable paper. 

On September 11, Kerber’s invention “Pape” — or Paper Electronics — earned global recognition when it was named a national winner of the 2024 James Dyson Awards. 

When she entered the scientific competition, Kerber demonstrated her invention with the creation of several small electronics made out of paper materials, including a fully-functional WiFi router and smoke detector. 

“Small electronic devices are especially prone to ending up in household waste due to unclear disposal systems and their small size, so there is significant potential to develop a more user-friendly end-of-life system,” Kerber wrote on the James Dyson Award website. 

“With this in mind, I aimed to move beyond a simple recycling solution to a circular one, ensuring long-term sustainability.” 

Kerber’s invention hinges on crafting a dissolvable and recyclable PCB board out of compressed “paper pulp.” 

A printed circuit board (PCB) is a board that can be found in nearly all modern electronic devices, like phones, tablets, and smartwatches.

But even companies that have started incorporating a “dissolution” step into the end life of their products require deconstruction to break down and recover the PCB board before it can be recycled. 

With Kerber’s PAPE products, users don’t need to take the device apart to recycle it.

“By implementing a user-friendly return option, manufacturers can efficiently dissolve all returned items, potentially reusing electronic components,” Kerber explained. 

“Rapidly advancing technology, which forms the core of many devices, becomes obsolete much faster than the structural elements, which are often made from plastics that can last thousands of years,” Kerber poses. 

PAPE, Kerber says, has a “designed end-of-life system” which anticipates obsolescence. 

“Does anyone want to use a thousand-year-old computer?” Kerber asks. “Of course not. … This ensures a sustainable and reliable system without hindering technological advancement.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, September 13, 2024