#Buy weighted blankets online

[weightedblanketsblog]

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Improve Sleeping Habits With The Weighted Blanket Online Australia

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The Comfortable And Relaxing King-Weighted Blankets For You                                                

Many people may not like to compromise on the blanket quality, especially if they are having sleeping issues. You must note that when it comes to a good and healthy life, a sleeping routine is a vital condition. Therefore, people should consistently invest their funds in the most satisfactory and finest quality blankets so that they can allow themselves to relax and sleep in the best area. Go ahead! And make yourself sleep without worries by choosing the most convenient weighted blankets.

[jiniret-writings]

Warm Blankets Pt. 2

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Platonic!ot8 x 9th member!reader

Warnings: self-doubt, feelings of worthlessness

The actions of the members in this story do not represent how they are in real life. This is all fictional and should not be taken seriously.

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

After buying snacks (and your favorite drink because crying really does numbers on your hydration), you headed back to your dorm and the minute you opened the door, you were met with quite the scene. The entire place looked like a scene from Alice in Wonderland: chaos in the kitchen, chaos in the living room, and something sounded like it crashed in the bathroom, but over it all, the dorm smelled delicious.

When you two walked deeper into the dorm, Minho was the first to look up from what looked like beating eggs. "Hungry?" he asked, pouring the egg mixture onto the pan. Truth was, you were starving. You'd skipped breakfast that day because of an early vocal lesson. Your stomach rumbled low enough for Hyunjin to hear who laughed lightly.

"I think we both are," he said, nudging you in more. Then, like a switch flipped, Hyunjin whined, "Hyuuuuuung! When will it be readyyyyy?" He flopped onto the island seat and laid his head on the counter, watching Minho cook. Minho glared at his younger member, picking up the spatula.

"When you're done cooking in the air fryer," he said in a monotone voice, flashing a Cheshire smile before dropping it and going back to the eggs. You laughed at them, sitting next to Hyunjin and across from Felix. Chan's words still circled your head.

It felt heavy, your head and your heart burdened with the hit of his words and the weight of your thoughts. It had been five years since Stray Kids debuted, yet the whispers never stopped. Comments circled online every month or so about whether you really fit into the group:

I don't know, it's just that the group might thrive more if it weren't for them.

Have you seen the new talker? See how they're off to the side most of the time? They're definitely going to leave the group soon.

I trust Chan and all but I don't know if he was right about them.

It was normal to get hate as an idol but maybe, just maybe, they were right? Hyunjin had reassured you that you were wanted and he was just saying whatever came to mind in his stressed state but, but maybe there were some truth to his words.

As thoughts raced through your head, you stared blankly at the counter. The boys around you looked at you worriedly, giving Hyunjin a look with one question: what happened? He hadn't told them why you had a bad day or what was wrong, but they still rallied to give you warmth and comfort. But you were worrying them. They just wanted the best for you and to do whatever it took to cheer you up.

Wanting to pull you from your thoughts as soon as possible, Hyunjin texted them the short version:

Chan-hyung said he shouldn't have fought for them to be in the group. 2RACHA are on placating duty.

With that sent, Hyunjin put his arm around you to not scare you, but the second you snapped out of your personal trance, Felix ran at you and tackled you to the ground. The little attack came as a surprise to everyone around, leaving them all frozen. The only sound being Felix's "lixie" sounds.

You were shocked as well, arms coming around the slightly older boy on instinct, but eyes still wide. "Felix?!? What was that?!?"

"I love you," he said, digging his face into your neck, causing you to hold in slight laughter because of how much it tickled.

"I love you too but what's this?" you asked, gesturing to the fact that the two of you were still on the floor. At that, he looked down at you, small pout forming.

"My love, y/n/n. Accept it," he said, leaving no room to argue. And in a flash, he stood up, pulling you up with him, and pointed to the pan he was working on with a big smile. "Look! I made brownies, cookies, and a cheesecake! Help me decorate?"

You wanted to refuse, to slip away to your bedroom to lie down and think--no matter how much of a bad idea that was--but the way he was looking at you like you were the sun, how could you not agree? Nodding your head, you walked behind the counter to where Felix was just starting to put on a final layer of frosting on the chilled cake. At that moment, Jeongin and Seungmin strolled. Seungmin sat in the seat you left and Jeongin came up next to you, putting an arm on your shoulder.

"I wanna help too! How do you want to decorate it?" he asked, pointing the question at you. You thought about it and your mind drifted to a movie you had watched recently.

"Lets do it Alice in Wonderland themed?" you asked, unsure if it was a bad idea. The voices around you did well ot drown out your thoughts but they'd pop up every now and again with a new sort of vigor. But with no hesitation, Jeongin just smiled and nodded. Felix brought out red and black food coloring, and started mixing it into different bowls of frosting. At that moment, Minho walked to you with a pair of chopsticks holding a piece of meat. He just brought it to your face and you opened your mouth without a second thought. It was like second nature: if one of your members was feeding you then it must be good.

Your members

The thought brought a feeling of warmth in your chest. Suddenly, tears filled your eyes. You looked away, trying to get them back under control. You shook away the ones that came up, but the warm tightness in your chest refused to let go. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and once inside, sat on the edge of the bath tub, letting the tears flow.

My members, you thought, letting the tears flow freely.

Back at the kitchen, everyone looked at each other, more worried than before.

"How bad?" Seungmin asked, turning fully to face Hyunjin. He just shook his head, remembering the fight he walked in on.

"Really bad. He was yelling and they were yelling and he suddenly just yelled it out. I grabbed them and took them out right after," he said, looking at all the boys. They shook their head, knowing what it was like when they poked the too-still bear.

"How is he?" Jeongin asked, knowing how this went. Chan cared about all of you, more than he could put into words. Jeongin knew it would only be a matter of time until the eldest realized what he said and started spiraling himself.

"I don't know. The others haven't texted but they're probably just keeping him occupied with work like he wants to be."

Seungmin looked towards the bathroom door, then to the pile of blankets laid out on the living room floor. The table in front of the TV had a cute pink table cloth over it so they could bring all the food out there to eat and watch your favorite show and movies. "Is the food almost done?" he asked, looking at Minho. He nodded and took the lid off of a nearby pot, giving it a final stir.

"Its all done. Just need to plate it and bring it to the table," he said. Jeongin took out the plates from the cabinet behind him and spread them out to make plating easier. Minho thanked the youngest by ruffling his hair and got to plating. Felix and Hyunjin in the meantime were trying to finish up the cake. Felix had just finished doing a slightly lopsided, but still made with love, checkerboard pattern and now Hyunjin was...it was hard to tell if that was Alice or the Cheshire cat, but either way, it was very "Wonderland".

When you walked out of the bathroom, having checked your eyes one last time to make sure they weren't red, you walked straight into Seungmin's back. When he turned around, he just smiled and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the mess of blankets.

"What movie should we watch first?" he asked, sitting you down front and center. The boys were each bringing out plates of delicious food and your stomach growled again, much louder this time. You blushed slightly, looking down. Seungmin just laughed and handed you the remote.

"What type of movie?" you asked Seungmin.

"Whatever you want. We're happy with anything," he shrugged, leaning back against one of the pillow piles. With the food finally set, Minho sat behind you, patting your head lightly. You leaned into his hands, which then started massaging your head. The other boys came around too, Felix sitting on your other side and Jeongin and Hyunjin sitting on either side of Minho on the couch.

Felix grabbed one of the blankets from behind you and draped it across your back so it was hugging you. He then started passing around the plates of food to everyone as you finalized a movie.

With everyone snuggled in, you watched the movie and ate happily, laughing with your members as they recreated scenes, repeated funny lines, and made comments throughout the entire movie. Finishing your food, you put the plate back on the table, passing Minho’s and Jeongin’s plates onto the table as well, before putting your head on Felix’s shoulder and snuggling close.

Felix smiled down at you, grabbing a duck plushie and putting him gently into your arms. You looked from the stuffed duck to Felix and back to the duck. You smiled at it and gave it a squeeze.

You suddenly felt a small pressure on your hand and turned to see Seungmin had scooted closer to you and put his hand on top of yours. He gave your hand a squeeze and gave you a small smile before turning back to the TV.

Now feeling someone pat your head, you looked up and saw Minho patting it softly. Next to him, Jeongin was looking through a bag of clips you hadn't seen before and was picking out all the clips in your favorite color. You looked forward again and the tears were building up again. You held them back as much as you could when suddenly, Hyunjin huffed from above.

Before you could ask what happened, the tall boy made his way in font of you, Seungmin, and Felix and just flopped on all three of you. You all groaned at the sudden weight, moving every way to avoid getting his by his arms and legs as he found a position that wasn't extremely uncomfortable. Once settled, he looked at you with a cheeky smile, that then turned into a soft one. He brought his hands to your face and wiped the few tears that had escaped. He didn't say anything further, just patting your cheek and turning back.

Everything was calm now, the second movie now playing. You felt warm, both outside and inside. You always believed actions spoke louder than words, and the way the members all cared for you and spent time with you, how could you not feel welcomed? This was your family. Now, this was part of your family. You still had three members that you know care for you too.

Chan's words still hurt and you weren't just going to blindly forgive him, but he was still part of this big and crazy family you found when you found them years ago.

"We're never letting you go, I hope you know that," Seungmin muttered next to you, now holding your arm. Felix and Jeongin nodded, Felix placing a small kiss on your wet cheek.

"Never. It doesn't matter what people online say or what's said in the heat of an argument. We're never letting go," Jeongin said, squeezing your shoulder for good measure.

"The big bad wolf was extra grouchy today, which means everything out of his mouth was a big bad lie," Minho said, kissing the top of your head.

"If he's the big bad wolf, who is little red riding hood?" Hyunjin asked, turning his entire body--eliciting a groan from you, Felix, and Seungmin--and looking at Minho.

Without missing a beat, he looked at Hyunjin and said, "You are, you're going to get eaten soon."

"Do I taste good?"

"Go into the kitchen and find out," Minho said, standing up and going to grab Hyunjin, but he was quick. He got off of you three and ran to the kitchen, and he and Minho had a mini chase around the kitchen island. You laughed at their chase, moved by the kind words and the usual shenanigans of the members.

Jeongin came down in front of you and laid his head on your lap, looking up. "You're a important part of our group, y/n/n. We all love you here." You smiled at the youngest and wiped the last tears before they could escape. The lull of the TV, the comforting sounds of chaos from the kitchen, and the warmth from the members around you made you feel safe, and stopping yourself from fighting it off, you fell into a comfortable sleep, the negative thoughts nowhere to be found.

Here's the second part! I am genuinely so thankful for everyone who has read and liked part 1. I didn't even think it would get as much attention as it did! I finished part 2 early so I figured I would upload it a bit early!

I'm in the process of writing part 3, but I hope to get it done soon! Part 3 will have a happy ending, so I hope you enjoy that when it comes out as well! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!

-Jini

Divider made by: @cafekitsune

Taglist: @neyangi

[axeeglitter]

Back from the Vault: LifeX

Nathan Brown sat hunched over his desk, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his tired eyes. His San Francisco apartment was a mess: clothes strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers stacked on the kitchen counter, and a half-empty coffee mug perched precariously on the edge of his desk. Nathan's bed was unmade, a tangled heap of blankets and pillows. The room smelled faintly of stale air and sweat, the result of a broken air conditioning unit and a lack of motivation to clean.

Nathan was staring at his laptop screen, scrolling through yet another round of job listings. His bank account was dangerously low, and the anxiety of unpaid bills was gnawing at him. He was 26 years old, recently graduated with a degree in communications, and he was struggling to find any kind of work. His YouTube channel, where he reviewed video games and shared walkthroughs, was his only source of income, but the revenue it brought in was barely enough to buy groceries, let alone pay rent or bills.

Nathan was average in build, with a light tan from his Latino heritage, and short, dark hair that he usually kept neat. His face was lightly stubbled, a sign of his growing indifference to grooming as stress took over. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. He was on the brink of giving up when a notification popped up on his screen, breaking his focus.

"Subject: Exciting Opportunity for Collaboration!"

Nathan hesitated, then clicked on the email. It was from a company called LifeX. He didn���t recognize the name, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Dear Nathan,

We’ve come across your YouTube channel and believe we could work well together. LifeX is launching a groundbreaking new game, and we are looking for individuals to help us with beta testing and promotion. Your content aligns perfectly with our vision, and we think this could be a great collaboration. If you accept, you’ll also be able to help us optimize the AI of our games by creating your own NPC character, it’ll be later implemented in the game when it’ll be released. Of course, we offer financial compensation for your work.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Best regards, The LifeX Team”

Nathan’s first instinct was skepticism. It sounded too good to be true, and he’d heard horror stories of scams and phishing attempts. But the desperation for money overrode his better judgment. He quickly searched for LifeX online, finding only a sparse website filled with vague marketing speak about “immersive experiences” and “cutting-edge technology.” There were no reviews, no user testimonials, nothing solid. This should have been a red flag, but Nathan was too desperate to care. He needed this. He needed a break.

Nathan decided to respond. He typed out a quick reply expressing his interest. Almost immediately, another email arrived, containing a download link, setup instructions, and a NDA requesting his personal information: name, age, location, and other details. Nathan filled out the form, barely thinking about the potential consequences. He selected the longest trial period possible: one month, hoping it would give him enough content for his channel and enough time to determine if the collaboration was worthwhile.

As soon as he submitted the form, a melodic chime sounded from his laptop, followed by a smooth, professional voice:

“Thank you for signing up, Nathan. To begin your experience, you will first create the NPC character, and then you’ll be ready to start your experience in the environment you’ll choose. For the trial to run successfully, please ensure that your computer remains on for the entire duration of the test period: one month. Any interruption may result in data loss or corruption. Welcome to LifeX.”

Nathan frowned at the last part but shrugged it off. He figured it was just standard legalese, probably meant for immersion. The screen changed to a character creation window, displaying a basic human figure in a T-pose. Nathan leaned forward, curiosity piqued, and started customizing the avatar.

He named the avatar “Cody,” envisioning him as the polar opposite of himself. Cody would be everything Nathan wasn’t: confident, athletic, and effortlessly cool. He adjusted the height to 6'4", pushed the muscle sliders to the maximum, giving Cody bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick, powerful legs holding a perfectly muscled ass. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan spotted a slider on the groin area. He laughed as he understood he could also determine how big he could adjust Cody’s penis and balls. Smiling, he selected the largest option possible for his dick and added a huge heavy pair of balls to go with it, watching it grow in proportion to the rest of his body. He added bright hazel eyes, bushy eyebrows, and messy dark brown hairs that would contrast perfectly to the pale sun kissed skin.

After the body customization, Nathan saw a new window open: Clothes and accessories. After thinking about it, he chose a pair of denim shorts that ended mid-thigh, showing off Cody’s muscular legs. Nathan opted for no T-shirt, exposing Cody’s ripped torso and added a ripped sleeve shirt opened on his muscled hair pecs. He then moved on to accessories and decided to put a loop earring on his right ear and a silver chain around his neck.

After the customization was done, it was asked for Nathan to enter some information about the NPC he just created to create a base behavior for him. After a while, Nathan decided to go for the stereotypical fratbro behavior to go with the appearance he just did. He started typing, adding details about Cody’s lifestyle. He entered notes in the behavior interface: “Cody is dumb as a brick. He loves gym, training and being barefoot, feeling the ground under his calloused feet.” He laughed as he added another line: “Cody never takes showers, loves the smell of his own musk, enjoys sniffing his hairy armpits after a workout and scratching his big dick every couple of minutes after what he smells them and always smile enjoying his own musk.” Nathan chuckled, amused at the thought of creating such a ridiculous character. It was so far removed from his real life that it seemed like a fun NPC to talk and interact with. Just a dumb easy-going character that is always down for a fuck and a drink after a gym session barefoot in the woods.

Satisfied with his creation, he confirmed the settings. The game prompted him to select a location, and he chose the Secluded Forest Realm, envisioning Cody as a carefree physical trainer just out of college living in a cabin in the wilderness.

The screen went black for a moment, and the professional voice returned: “Now that your character is complete, it’s time to play! Please keep your computer running at all times to maintain synchronization. Any interruption may lead to data corruption. Enjoy your month-long experience, Nathan, and welcome to LifeX.” Nathan was really getting excited now. He conder what kind of character he would create for himself when he saw a flash of light on the screen. It looked like some kind of swirling mesh, almost like a blackhole. For a moment Nathan thought it was kind of a cool effect, but everything changed when he went to grab his half drink cup of coffee sitting next to him only to realize his right hand was tingling and tiny particles were escaping his nails, flying straight to his screen.

A sudden wave of fatigue hit Nathan, and the lights in his apartment flickered briefly. A sense of unease washed over him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Before he could react, the tingling sensation spread from his fingertips up through his arms. He stared in disbelief as his fingers began to dissolve into streams of glowing white code, spreading quickly across his body. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. His vision blurred as the Life X logo was pulsing in bright light in the center of the screen with a loading bar under it going up further and further. The last thing he saw was the 100% before everything went black.

Nathan found himself suspended in a void. He was floating, naked, surrounded by darkness. Panic set in, his heart racing as he tried to move, but his body was frozen in a T-pose. The sensation was bizarre, as if he were trapped in a dream. He wanted to call out, but his voice was muffled, like shouting underwater. The smooth, professional voice returned, echoing through the void:

“Welcome to your new life, Nathan. Don’t panic; this process is normal and painless. In a few moments, you will begin your ideal life in the Secluded Forest Realm. Relax and feel calm. Avatar synchronization will begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

“What the fuck, where am I? What is going on? Why can’t I move?! HELP!!” thought Nathan as he tried to scream even though his face remained frozen.

Nathan’s body suddenly stiffened. A pressure built inside him, starting at his core and spreading outward. His bones stretched and cracked, lengthening to match Cody’s new height. His arms and legs grew longer, muscles bulging and expanding to fill out his new form. Nathan could feel his muscles tearing and healing at an accelerated rate, becoming stronger and more defined with each passing second.

His skin began to tighten, smoothing out imperfections and leaving with a perfectly smooth skin all around his muscled body. Nathan would be screaming if his voice mas not muted. Everything was burning and it was like feeling his DNA being rewritten while still being conscious. As he felt tears rising up his eyes, a new sensation invaded his newly modified skin. In his pits, legs and between his pecs, he felt like thousands of needles were piercing holes. The sensation was only multiplied as he started to feel hair sprouting from the holes. They were dark brown and thick but worst, the sensation of piercing needles started to appear around his groin too. Still wondering what was happening to him, Nathan tried to connect the elements he could find and that when he realized. The secluded forest, the muscles, the hair; that was Cody’s information, which means… Just enough time to understand what was happening to him when the hair started to sprout in abondance around his dick and nuts and climbing up his sculpted abs in a thin happy trail. After the hair, the modifications started to appear on his face. His jawline becoming sharper and more angular, his cheekbones more pronounced. His lips filled out, becoming more defined, while his eyebrows grew thicker, framing his eyes. His vision sharpened, colors becoming brighter and more vivid. His brown eyes shifted to a bright hazel as he lost vision for a moment. Everything was happening all at once and still, Nathan felt like it was an eternity of pain.

Nathan’s hair thickened, turning into soft, dark strands that fell casually over his forehead. His ears reshaped slightly to match his new head structure. A sensation of warmth spread through his throat as his vocal cords tightened, his voice box reshaping. When he tried to speak, his voice was deeper, richer, and carried a slight accent, a relaxed, Western drawl.

Nathan felt a growing warmth in his groin and realized what was about to happen now. All of a sudden, he regrated giving Cody such a big dick and heavy nuts. His cock thickened and lengthened, becoming larger than Nathan had ever been. He could feel the veins snaking down his growing dick as his cock head started to grow thicker and bigger. He could feel the cold air surrounding him as the head sneaked out of his foreskin. Wait, his foreskin? He didn’t remember going this far in details. His nuts fall down and grew thicker and full of potent cum as he could feel them going overload working on creating new manly sperm nonstop. Nathan could feel the horniness starting to rise as his body was assaulted by huge amount of testosterone. A drop of precum appeared at the tip of his cock as he could feel the weight of it between his legs, an odd sensation that both embarrassed and intrigued him. His buttocks tightened, becoming firm and lifted, while his thighs and calves thickened with muscle.

The transformation was almost complete when Nathan felt a sharp pain on his left pec. He wanted to scream, but his body was still frozen. The pain was like a branding iron pressing into his skin. “What is this?!” screamed Nathan in his new deep voice. A voice appeared from all around him “Dear user: NATHAN BROWN, as talked with you earlier on, you agreed to review and help us create the new generation of AI used for our NPCs. For that, your character, CODY, will have to be monitored. This assignation, XXIV, is the link to your identity and allow us to track your character. Please relax as your actions will be tracked and then saved. The program will make sure to copy all your movements, thoughts and everything that your character, CODY, might do to make sure to copy human mechanism that will be implemented in our NPCs later on. Thank you for your service.” When it subsided, a Roman numeral tattoo “XXIV” was there, bold and black, as if it had always been part of him. Nathan could feel the tattoo pulsing with energy, as if it was more than just ink on skin.

As his body finished transforming, clothes materialized around him. He now wore a sleeveless, open checkered flannel shirt and a short pair of denim shorts. Then he felt his ear being stabbed as the earing appeared in it and the coldness of the silver metal appeared around his neck. His feet then started to tingle as Nathan could feel the skin of his sole getting thicker and denser to better serve his barefoot lifestyle in the forest.

Nathan was terrified about what he just heard; his humanity was going to be used to program AI that will be implemented in NPCs. How is that even possible? Does that mean he was Cody now? And for a whole month? He didn’t agree to this. He had a life outside, friends, job to find, maybe some interviews if he was lucky. And about the bills? What was he going to do?

As all the questions were swirling in his head, Nathan fell the restriction holding his body in place as it was being modified lift. He could move on his own again, and the first thing he tried to do was take of his shirt or necklace. But every tug on the clothes or metal fell like he was trying to rip a part of him away. The clothes were part of him now. Nathan started to feel tears rise once again in his ears as all he could see around him were the infinite void of this artificial world. “Modification process terminated, Assimilation to the realm starting in 3,2,1…” Out of nowhere, the ground started to shake under Nathan’s barefoot. Then he saw light pierce through the ceiling. As a reflex, he put his hands to cover his bright hazel eyes but the light was way too bright. Nathan could see entire walls of darkness vanish and being obliterated by this bright light coming from above and fear started to raise in him. Nathan closed his eyes as all he could see was the infinite light engulfing the void and him with it. When he opened his eyes, Nathan was alone in a cabin in the woods, standing in front of a mirror. For the first time, he could see from the first person point of view what the body he created really looked like. Everything was looking so life like, even scent of pine and dirt were coming from the opened window next to him. He could smell the woods, feel the sun on his skin, the wood under his foots. Everything was lifelike. As Nathan sight started to look what his transformed body looked like, his head started to spin. Nathan grabbed it with his two manly hands but the pain was growing stronger. And in the blink of an eye, Nathan was no more. Cody stared at his reflection before smiling and flexing his biceps while smiling. His right hand lowered to get inside his shorts and scratch his hairy dick before putting his fingers under his nose to smell his musk. Cody laughed as he walked away, grabbing a snack on his way out to go exercise a bit in the nature.

“New NPC starting test phase. Remaining time 30 days, 23 hours 59 minutes 23 seconds. Behavior analysis… Acting following user NATHAN BROWN encoding. Tester assimilation… Assimilation stable, user will turn back when tests are over.”

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Here's another story back from the Vault, and it's my first ever published story: LifeX Hope you guys enjoy this new version of my story. Let me know what you think of it. As always, my asks are open and i'm always looking for new ideas and prompts from you. I try to answer them all and I love to read your ideas so please, don't be afraid to send anything you'd like me to write and I'll do my best to do it :) Take care of yourself! P.S. A follow up to this story should arrive soon ;)

[pandorasworkshop]

🌕The Bedrooms of the Moon Signs🌕

Pandorasworkshop

Okay so the moon rules the fourth house which is the house of comfort, mother and the home. So looking at people's moon signs is a great way to grasp what their bedroom may look like or what they feel comfortable in. Disclaimer: aspects other fourth house placements and what house ur moon is can affect this.

Moon in Aries: neat and organized or veryyy chaotic, they may have a little corner of their room dedicated to an interest of theirs. Some friends have dumbbells in their rooms as well. Whatever house their moon is in may show be more prominent in their room. Do you guys know those pretty minimal rooms on Pinterest (not the beige) thats what this placement reminds me of and also very chaotic rooms where there are collage walls.

Moon in Taurus: they payyy attention to the little things, they know what they like a value being comfortable, some of my friends with this placement spend a little more on their rooms to make sure everything is up to their standards. Usually have nice bedsheets too. Think nice fabrics. Most likely to have a mini fridge in their room. Their rooms always have a luxurious undertone even if that's not their aesthetic.

Moon in Gemini: techy room three friends of mine have an Alexa in their room and two have a record player. May spend money on gadgets for their room. Naomi Campbell has this placement and her house is literally the shape of an eye. Most likely to focus on lighting in their rooms (led, sunlight lamps, fairy lights). Lot of kpop fans with this placement. Could have multiple journals or sketchbooks all around their room. Tall windows.

Moon in cancer: they like being cozy, literally every single person I know with this placement has a veil hanging from above their bed. Ambient lighting and the starlight projectors. Appealing to all the senses to feel comfortable is important to them. May use candles, diffusers, or incense. Stashes food in their room. Weighted blankets. If they aren't doing well their rooms show their emotions. Most likely to have stuffed animals on their bed.

Moon in Leo: whatever hobbies they have you WILL absolutely know once you step foot in their room. One friend of mine with this placement is a guitarist has seven guitars/banjos/bass hanging on her walls plus pedals and amps all her posters are of bands. Another friend is an artist she paints and likes to bejewel stuff those shiny rhinestones are EVERYWHERE and her walls are painted with her art. Another friend is a nail tech/makeup artist all the tables In her room are filled with supplies and makeup. Look in the cabinet oh more nails. I feel like these placements pets love to hangout in their rooms as well.

Moon in Virgo: their rooms tend to be very organized. Many influencers online who tend to do those organized videos tend to have this placement. Most likely to have one of those carts that wheel around and are a container. Two friends with this placement both have veryyy coordinated bookshelves. Bullet journal and they may have lots of pretty pens. Anything they buy for their room is always useful. Tend to be plant parents as well and a friend and my cousin with this placement both have a yoga mat surrounded by plants. HIDDEN CABINETS. You can tell where they are mentally through their rooms. Really polished rooms even without trying.

Moon in Libra: may have had to host people a lot in their rooms so their rooms have multiple chairs. Their room either looks straight out of a catalog or there is clothes thrown EVERYWHERE. May have a specific area in their room they get ready in. May have framed photos of their loved ones or Polaroids. If they get flowers from somebody they may incorporate them into their room decor by putting them in a vase or drying them. Libra is ruled by Venus so their rooms always like pretty and almost refreshing.

Moon in Scorpio: every single person I know with this placement is metal/goth 😭 really living up to the stereotype. But Scorpio rules the 8th house and 8th house is about secrets, occult and obsession. Many of my friends with this moon placement when they have it they reallyyy lean into their aesthetic. All five of my friends have their walls covered with things and a typically goth aesthetic they really lean into. Something though I feel like is not talked about with Scorpio is their lighter side. Scorpios sister sign is Taurus and Taurus is very light. Both of these signs can embody one another. A girl on tiktok has a Scorpio moon and Venus and her room is very coquette but her walls are still covered with all sorts of things and she really leans into her style.

Moon in Sagittarius: might have a lot of funny things in their room or just plain out strange things. A friend with this placement has road signs all over his room, a random urinal(don't ask me how he got it idk), life size Bigfoot cutout, and a singular poster of the movie white chicks. Another friend with this placement is really well traveled and she has all the cool souvenirs from all over the world and collects them, she also has a few of those educational posters that are pretty.

Moon in Capricorn: antique but not antique in the way Pisces can be. Lots of nice wood furniture, maybe a bit of a masculine undertone with neutral colors. Moody style and coloring. Capricorn is the sister sign to cancer so their rooms are also very cozy. Whimsigoth or academic. Neutral colors or colors that are darker in shades. Knit blankets remind me of this placement. Leather reminds me of this placement as well. Think of retro made new.

Moon in aquarius: do you guys know those blue/white futuristic technological themed rooms people have on tiktok. That's what this placement reminds me of. People I know with this placement tend to have nice ass pc set ups. You may like to sleep in the cold so they can be extra warm in their blankets. Rooms may be more minimal. Nice wallpaper with celebrities who have this placement.

Moon in Pisces: Antiques but in that almost magical way. Women on tiktok with this placement have these beautiful gold gilded mirrors. My friend has this gorgeous antique wardrobe. Most likely to thrift their decor. Florals remind me of this placement. If this person is really religious or really spiritual then you'll know when you go into their room. One of my friends is Christian and her room is filled with beautiful antique crosses. Another friend is Hindu and she has a nice altar in her room. If this person is a smoker they might have decor that relates to that. Witch friend has a lot of themed decor like moon shelves and a whole bookshelf dedicated to her craft. Pisces rules twelfth house which rules religion, substances, and spirituality. Pisces is also the oldest sign.

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Thinking about disabled AK!Jason tonite with a disabled s/o

Let's be fr this man could/should be an ambulatory wheelchair user but he won't because he doesn't know that's a thing and wouldn't think he deserved it. If you're an ambulatory wheelchair user maybe one day you manage to lovingly bully him into just TRYING it and it is life changing

He uses his ambulatory energy to do Red Hood shit nbd

if he doesn't use a wheelchair he's got at least 2 braces--shoulder and knee

Baby has chronic pain, arthritis, chronic migraines from being beaten

Missing some teeth too

take this boy to your neuro or your ortho!!!! he is totally unaware he does not need to live like this. better living through chemistry

let's get him some therapy too

you WILL have to go to his drs appointments with him. mans WILL freak the fuck out for ANY medical procedure, has very serious medical abuse trauma. if he can see how your drs help you he is much more likely to go if he can see that you are benefiting from your providers and that they haven't harmed you

if you're scared of drs he will FULLY stand behind you. probably not that healthy tbh but he gets it

having a special Migraine Protocol for each of you (it's basically just a snack and a drink, blue light filter glasses, a sleep mask with headphones for that special Migraine Playlist)

make your own pain scales and talk through frequency of pain bc when you have constant or near constant pain it fucks up your ability to quantify it so making your own pain scale is helpful (he probably uses shakespeare plays or authors. like a 5 for jason is twilight, because you can see some problems but it's fun and fluffy but when you start looking closer OH NO SO MANY PROBLEMS)

pain meters on a wall near the kitchen so you can know what you're working with

CBD patches

the AK suit is basically a giant brace/mobility aid so you help him figure out how to adapt it for his red hood persona, how to make it lighter and allow for greater ROM

will remind you to do physical therapy

resistance bands ALL OVER THE HOUSE

learning bodywork techniques

AT LEAST once a week using a special oil or lotion to work into some of his bigger scars to make the tissue more mobile

giving him a back/neck/scalp/face massage

after a while obvi that's a lot of trust he's putting in you

NOT deep tissue. don't hurt him more. you can have effective therapeutic massage without hurting a person

trager work involves basically shaking a limb and letting the weight of the muscle do all the work but it feels weird the first time and he'd just start laughing at you

specially if you do his glutes

but it feels really nice so he stops laughing and it does help his lower body pain

putting magnesium lotion on each other's neck and shoulders

start to ask each other "are you angry or in pain?"

hand massages

teaching him to stop pushing through the pain

one of his knees is basically bone on bone so you always know when the weather is changing

if u both have bad knees u just don't even when the weather is changing. take some pain meds, use your topical pain reliever of choice, prop those joints up and snuggle in bed. watch a youtube series or he can read to you

heated blankets as heating pads supremacy

occasionally he'll be in pain and the kind of pain where you feel like you're going insane, so as a distraction he will go online and buy a bunch of weird pain-relieving gadgets and you'll spend a week trying them out

(sometimes his pain fog shopping spree is blind boxes, or nail polish, or statement shirts)

all of his siblings know to come to your place if they get beat tf up because your medicine cabinet is UNreal

you're about to give cass or steph a Controlled Substance Pain Reliever and you pause "this is technically drug dealing, isn't it? dOn'T teLL rEd hOOD" jason is literally patching them up right next to you

soft blankets

reminding each other it's ok to take it slow

he's constantly tearing into the other rogues for not having ADA accessible lairs (except Ivy who successfully argued that the plants make it ADA accessible which will do. FOR NOW.)

[theearthmagicguy]

I mean, having something heavy on me helps me sleep. Is comfy.

and now a word from our sponsors.

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nike.

do you?

[hiskillingjar]

Please plspls write sexed up abusive lesbians law x strade 🤞🤞

sorry lesbians, sorry dykes, this is a post for fucked up transfems and quasi-chasers now. sorry :(

4000+ words, cw for slurs, they are the worst grindr hookup in the world and i'm obsessed with themmmmm (this may have a part 2 if the people don't execute me)

also crossposted on ao3 give me attentionnnnnuh

"hey cutie, having a good night?"

Lawrence almost flinched after hearing the foreign notification ‘blllip’ on their phone. 

It was late, they had just gotten home from work and they were sifting through their saved videos (car crashes, open-faced surgery, execution porn and the like) to get to sleep, their body heavy on the mattress, their head heavier with drugged intoxication from a short smoking circle at the warehouse before they left.

They blinked sleepy grey (dead) eyes as they opened the app with a slide of their thumb, the orange-and-black interface unfamiliar, they used it so little.

Right. They downloaded this to buy weed from the new guy at work, didn’t they? 

Did they even have a profile set up? Apparently so, if someone nearby had found them.

They let out a short sigh through their nose, moving onto their back under the heavy, weighted blankets as they typed out a reply to ‘strade 36 verse’.

‘Verse’. What did that even mean?

"Hi."

Lawrence barely had time to rub their eyes before the orange bubble was typing again. 

"hi!"

An instant reply. ‘Strade 36 verse’ must have been online then.

They sat up with another sigh and their lips pursed in a thoughtful pout, wondering if they should respond further, and what to say if they did. 

They didn’t really know the etiquette of most social media, after all. The most exposure they’d had to it was a Tumblr account that was quickly taken down when they posted an especially gory work-in-progress photo of a new sculpture (for “violating community guidelines’ they said when they’d asked), and they’d left it at that, so this was new to them. 

It wasn't like they’d been on something as casual as a dating app before, so they had no prior experience or point of reference on how these kinds of interactions generally played out.

So, in place of another message, they decided to wait for ‘Strade 36 verse’ to reply again, to send the dreaded ‘double text’ or lose interest in their flaky response, before they did anything on their own.

They wouldn’t have to wait long for that, though.

"nice pics, you’re very, very cute." He praised, sending through a winking-face emoji and a blonde angel emoji, referencing the badly taken, but well-cropped mirror selfies on their profile, just so the weed guy knew who they were when they messaged. "are you down for anything tonight?"

Lawrence frowned, idly worrying their bottom lip between their crooked teeth as they pushed a hand into their greasy hair. They’d shower before work tomorrow. Or not.

They weren't entirely sure what ‘down for anything’ meant and weren't sure if they necessarily wanted to know either.

"Thank you.” They typed, well-trained to be polite to compliments. “Down for anything like what, exactly?"

"lol, you're adorable"

"like hooking up? lol"

Lawrence nearly dropped their phone at that.

Their face burned a hot red as they sat upright quickly, pushing aside their weighted blankets and ruminating in silence for several long moments on how to respond to Strade’s outright forwardness.

Was everyone on this app like this?

"I don't know you.” They wrote with another deep frown. “I only really use this app to buy weed. What do you want from me?"

"haha that's hilarious!" Strade wrote back quickly with a series of laughing emojis, which just made Lawrence frown even more. What did he find so funny? "cute pics for a burner account tho. what's that for?~"

They felt their face burning hotter and hotter as they stared at Strade's response, dumbfounded at his capacity to play along with such unwilling prey, before setting the phone down in their lap and pressing the heels of both hands to their eyes, too tired and (frankly) too high to make sense of what this guy was trying to do to them.

‘...cute pics...?’

They took a breath and picked up their phone again, trying to respond as normally as they could without cussing the guy out.

"What do you mean cute? It's just my face."

"it’s a cute face," He sent with a virtual wink.

They took another short moment, trying to collect themself, long, trembling fingers hovering over the keyboard on their phone, before they typed out another response. 

"I don't know about cute...but thanks, I think."

"you're so welcome~"

There was a pause as Strade typed another string of words, punctuated by an orange bubble and animated ellipses.

"if you're not here to hook up, maybe we could just exchange pics hm?"

"Pictures of...what exactly?"

"i'll show you mine if you show me yours," He wrote, punctuated by an eggplant emoji, a peach emoji and…a water spray emoji.

Lawrence didn’t need to be a genius in social media lingo to know exactly what that meant.

They tried to swallow the growing lump in their throat before reluctantly replying.

"What makes you think I'd send you a picture like that? I don't even know what you look like."

"i have a profile pic sweetheart," He wrote with another winking emoji, making Lawrence flush that they hadn’t even taken the time to look at Strade’s profile before they started talking to him. "but fair point! wanna make sure i’m not a catfish, huh?"

'Sweetheart...'

The nickname sent a little chill down Lawrence’s spine, but…not in a wholly unpleasant way.

It might have even been kind of nice to be called that, even if it was from a stranger on a dating app of all places.

There were a few moments of ‘silence’ before their phone ‘blllipped’ with a notification that Strade had sent them a picture, which they quickly opened. 

He looked like...well, he looked like a totally normal guy in his thirties, relaxing on a couch as if he’d just gotten home from work after a hard day. Tan skin, dark stubble, a handsome smile, everything people liked in a man. He was shirtless, showing off a soft chest and the beginnings of a slightly softer stomach, but that was probably the nature of the app.

"You're...very good-looking. Nice muscles." Lawrence typed honestly, a little hesitantly, staring at the picture for a prolonged moment before swapping back to the chat.

"thanks cutie," He wrote with a beating heart emoji, making Lawrence’s own heart tighten in their chest. "how are you looking right now?"

They idly chewed the inside of their cheek and looked down at themself. 

They weren’t anything special and never considered themself to be, wearing a pair of tattered pyjama pants and a loose-fitting top printed with the warehouse’s logo. 

That probably wasn’t the vibe for this interaction, was it?

"I mean, not good like you. I'm wearing pyjamas right now."

"maybe i'll decide what looks good, hm?"

"send me something."

They felt their face flush hotter when the second message popped up, bringing the edge of their phone to their mouth with a shuddering little sigh that fogged up the cracked glass.

This was getting pretty embarrassing, but, at the same time, it was...kind of exciting.

They’d never done anything like this before, certainly not with a stranger, and…Strade had such an authoritative vibe about him without even being in the room.

They felt almost compelled to obey him, even if there was no side effect to not.

Lawrence shifted over the side of the bed and reluctantly lifted the phone for a selfie, reaching up with their other hand to cover their mouth and most of their jaw, keeping the focus on their messy hair, their sleepy eyes, their slender neck, their collar bone, the low collar of their shirt…things that they guessed Strade might like in a conversation partner.

Once they had taken the picture, they sent it over quickly before they could think too long and change their mind.

Strade responded almost immediately.

"awwww~" He wrote, with a heart eyes emoji and another angel emoji. "very cute!"

Oh God, they really weren’t used to being called cute this much.

Their heart was racing as they read the short string of messages, their pale cheeks flushing and their dead eyes fluttering a little as their thighs pressed together tightly.

"You...really think so?"

"i know so~" He complimented again. "you’re such a good girl for listening to me too <3"

'Good girl-!?'

Lawrence's heart was beating even faster now, just from that one little compliment, and they found themself sinking back against the bed and staring at the popcorn, mould-dotted ceiling, feeling all the heat in their body rush right down to their cock.

It seemed kind of...demeaning to be called a 'good girl' in this scenario, but at the same time, it felt...so amazing.

They just hoped that Strade wasn’t getting the wrong idea.

“Thank you…but I’m not a girl though.” They typed when their brain started working again, resting their phone on their chest, their legs trembling and bopping up and down, nervously.

"oh no? apologies for assuming but you do have trans stuff in your bio lol"

"you look pretty enough to be a girl. figuring stuff out?"

The instinct to cringe subsided quickly when they clicked on their profile, noticing the absence of the gender marker that Strade had (‘M’), and their pronouns (‘they/them, any/all’) listed along with their location, the only information they had provided the app, barring their picture.

"That was an accident...I didn't know what it was asking me." They typed out, explaining their mix-up.

‘Pretty enough to be a girl...’ 

They suddenly found themself feeling…warm all over as those words repeated in their head, feeling the sincerity behind them, the authenticity behind them. 

Maybe they weren’t a girl, at least, not a girl they had ever been close to before, but there was the…well, the fact that Strade had assumed their gender incorrectly several times now, and they had done nothing to correct him. 

"happy accidents, eh?" Strade replied quickly with another laughing emoji, though this one felt more fond and affectionate than the others had been. "do you like being a good girl, law?"

They swallowed tightly and managed to type out a response, their hands trembling with excitement.

"Yeah…I mean, yeah I think I do."

"thought so." Another virtual wink. This guy used a lot of emojis. "can i see something else now, angel?" He wrote, like no part of that conversation happened, and even though it was phrased like a question, Lawrence had that good sense that it was not to be taken as one.

They felt their face burning hotter than ever as they typed out a response.

"What do you want me to show you…?”

"show me your body.” 

“do you have a mirror so i can see all of you?"

Lawrence had to stop and close their eyes, knees tightly pressed together as they tried to collect themself and slow the pounding of their racing heart.

They’d never felt like this before. It felt good.

It felt good. 

Why weren’t they used to feeling good?

They took in a deep breath, trying to calm themself down, before they got to their feet and walked over to their bathroom, hesitantly taking a full-body (or, well, as close to full-body as they could manage) picture in the bathroom cabinet mirror, using the phone to cover their face and focus on their body.

They looked so…boring in the reflection, wearing that old, baggy top and those loose-fitting pants. 

Strade can’t really be that interested in them, can he?

"aw, you're so little. like you wouldn't be able to fight me off if i pinned you down <3"

Those immediate words set butterflies fluttering around in their stomach.

They were definitely not tiny by any metric, standing at almost six foot and easily taller than most of the guys in the warehouse, but the idea of being...pinned down by a stranger of all people, was making their brain short circuit.

And fine, they weren’t sure if Strade meant it in an affectionate way or…a creepy way, talking about their body like it was a piece of meat and he was an animal feeding on them, but Lawrence couldn’t think of a reason to be scared of the obvious red flags coming out of their conversation.

They swallowed past the ever-growing lump in their throat as they paced back to their bed, sitting down and trying their best to keep their responses coherent as they typed out another anxious reply.

"Oh yeah..? Think so?"

"i know so..."

God, he was quick.

"mind pulling those pants down?"

They chewed the inside of their cheek again, hesitating for maybe a moment before they began to slowly pull their pyjama bottoms down their skinny hips, exposing their boxer briefs and the bulge of their cock. 

They felt so exposed, like someone could just walk in and see them right now, and yet...

They took another picture and sent it to Strade without a word, feeling the flush spread across their face as they did so.

"those look pretty tight, baby," He wrote after a pause. "like that cute girlcock is desperate for something its not gonna get. too cute <3"

What the fuck, girlcock-?!

Every word of the message made them shiver more and more, making the aching feeling in their chest that much more intense and tight, so tight it was almost painful. 

God, they couldn’t even begin to describe how this fucking stranger was making them feel. 

They were starting to feel desperate, like he said they were, their girlcock stirring and pressing even tighter against the taut fabric of their briefs, denying them anything close to relief.

They swallowed again, their tongue poking out to wet their dry lips as they typed a needy response.

"Please…just keep talking to me like that…”

"you're such a good girl," Strade continued to praise with another beating heart emoji. "spread your legs, make those panties nice and tight for me so i can see your girlcock press up there…"

They had to close their eyes momentarily and take in a deep, shaky breath to calm themself before they even attempted a response.

It was almost hard to type with how worked up they were, how much their fucking girlcock was stirring, how much their hands were shaking. They felt so submissive and helpless, like they wouldn’t even be able to think without Strade telling them to. 

They just wanted to do whatever he told them to do.

Their legs parted as far as they could (while still framed nicely in the camera) and they jutted their hips slightly, making the thick bulge of their cock the focus of the picture. Light blonde hair covered their tummy and thighs, and they almost felt self-conscious about it, for the first time in their life.

A girl shouldn’t have that there…at least, not a good girl.

"fuck, you're killing me," He wrote with that angel emoji again. "you little tease. what i wouldn't give to have you here now."

Lawrence closed their eyes with a soft moan as they held the pose, trying to imagine what it would be like if he was here instead of just ordering them around over the phone.

They were still trembling but they couldn’t help but smile coyly to themself as they thought out another response.

"What would you do to me if I was there right now?"

"you really want to know, sweetheart?"

They swallowed hard, their grey eyes wide and unnervingly alive, and replied, almost without a thought.

"Yes. Tell me please…I want to know."

…

…

…

"i wouldn't let anyone else even get the chance to look at you, let alone touch you, before i’m through with you, lawrence"

"i'd take you down in my basement and make you scream. hurt you. cut you. fuck you even if you fought me back. ruin that cute little body and torture your girlcock until you begged me to stop."

"and i wouldn't stop <3 even if you screamed and cried and behaved like suuuuch a good girl for me, angel <3"

…

…

…

"You’d do that to me…?"

…

…

…

"yeah. i like ruining pretty things." He wrote. "and you're the prettiest thing i've seen in weeks."

Lawrence could feel themself almost trembling as they stared at their phone, their hands shaking. 

They managed to type out a response, each letter in their reply feeling like a tremendous amount of effort when their fingers were shaking like jelly, just holding onto the phone.

"You really think I’m…pretty…?"

Their heart was pounding as they waited for a reply, waited for those tell-tale orange dots to move again, their once-dead eyes wide and alive and ready for more as their head spun behind them. 

It was like they were experiencing an entirely new high, one more dangerous and more pleasurable than any drug could give them.

They could see themself getting quickly addicted to it, and knew that this addiction was sure to kill them faster than any other vice would.

“haha you're kind of a freak law," Strade seemed to tease when his reply finally popped up, though it was lacking the emojis that typically gave his teasing nature away. "i like that a lot. pretty girls are never usually as filthy as you~"

Their head canted slightly as they read the message, wetting their lips again as they reached down and idly palmed their cock, feeling the hard flesh between their long fingers and wishing that Strade was the one doing the touching instead.

Freak. Filth. Words growing on them like mould grew on spoiled food. 

They were gradually getting infected by whatever disease Strade must have had to enjoy this, and they couldn’t have been happier

They flopped back heavily on the bed with a shaky exhale, that same feeling of twisted pride they got when he called them a “good girl” washing over them.

They managed to respond with one hand occupied (still squeezing their rotten cock that was enjoying every moment of this), their fingers still trembling.

"Yeah, I’m kind of a freak I guess…”

A pretty freak…a pretty girl…

Their cock pulsed hotter.

"yeah.”

“even the most poorly-adjusted tranny has the self-respect not to put up with all of this. what's the matter, law, you don't have any of that?"

They whimpered softly and bit their lip hard (so hard, they could practically taste blood), before rolling onto their side and bringing their knees up to their heaving chest as their cock twitched incessantly between their trembling legs, their slack body shivering all over as they squeezed their thighs tightly together.

Fuck, this was so awful. So, so fucking awful.

Then why was their head pounding, their chest heaving, their cock throbbing harder and harder (and harder and harder), the worse it got?

They swallowed hard, the lump in their throat almost painful to gulp past, as they read the message again, and despite themself, they reached down and started tugging on their cock as they typed, their heart continuing to race at an impossible pace from the mix of excitement and dread at feeling so vulnerable and exposed to this man.

"Why would I want self-respect if it means I can’t talk to you…?”

"good answer <3"

They couldn’t help but smile upon reading the new text, cradling the phone to their shuddering chest with one hand, as the other tightened the hold on their cock, the veins in their wrist pulsating as it jerked up and down their length. 

God, they were just completely hooked on this fucking stranger, addicted to his praise, his threats, his dirty talk (if it could even be called that).

They lay there for a moment, just jerking themself off with wet gasps and shifting skin on skin, trying to even think of what to do next. 

Their mind was so fuzzy and filled with thoughts of Strade, Strade, Strade that they could hardly concentrate, even without the initial fuzz the weed had given them.

It was a perfect sensation.

"what are you doing now, law?"

“I’m…touching myself.”

“show me.”

Like everything else with Strade, it was phrased like a question but Lawrence knew that they didn’t have the luxury of disagreeing with him.

Like they even wanted that luxury to begin with.

They obediently moved backwards, up their bed, lying flat on their back (belly up, like a prey animal offering itself to a rightful predator) and parting their trembling thighs again, wrenching their briefs all the down their legs and taking an awkward picture of their cock in hand, the flushed head and firm length framed by the thin, milky white pillars of their scarred thighs.

They were just glad that this app didn’t have access to their storage and that any pictures exchanged in the chat wouldn’t be saved.

That would have been incredibly fucking embarrassing. 

"haha wtf you're fucking huge," Strade quickly wrote back in response, making fun of them, though, again, the message was lacking his usual emojis (as had many of the previous messages, actually). "talk about wasted potential, eh, law?"

“What do you mean, wasted potential…”

“it means when i fuck you,” When, not if, when, NOT IF. “i'm not letting you top for a single day of the rest of your wretched, little life”

They licked their lips hungrily, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Is…is that a threat…or a promise…?”

"both <3"

God.

GOD. 

They felt like they were going insane.

They just wanted more and more of his words, wanted to take everything this man was saying to them and amplify it, make it worse, make it despicable, diabolical, disgusting, more, more, more-

“God, I hope so…” They typed, the jerking of their wrist faster as heat coiled up, hot and tight, in their belly. “You make me feel like I’m losing my mind…”

"won't need a mind for what i'm planning for you, sweetheart"

“Fuck…” They stammered softly to themself, words falling past their parted lips in a helpless whimper, as they squeezed their cock harder, a thick bead of pre-cum drooling over their bony knuckles. They didn’t touch themself that often, all of their saved videos were no longer able to scratch the itch of their deadened arousal, but now, they were feeling it, so close, so desperate-

“i want you to stop touching yourself now, law”

Their hand stilled instantly, their pale brows knitting together as another typing bubble popped up.

“you don’t work weekends, do you?”

They swallowed hard, typing out a reply while anticipating the next message.

“No, not usually…why?”

“you know the braying mule in town? just next to that new whole foods?” Donkey emoji, beer glass emoji, wilting leaf emoji.

Lawrence took a moment to think about the spot Strade was describing. 

It wasn’t too far from the warehouse, now that they were thinking about it, in a slightly sketchier place in town that was facing a wave of gentrification (hence the Whole Foods that they, unfortunately, did frequent for tea ingredients and discount granola).

“Yeah…?”

“are you gonna meet me there next saturday?”

Once again, phrased like a question but Lawrence knew there was no option to say no.

Like they would have said no.

“I guess I am.”

“good girl.” Angel emoji, beating heart emoji. “and are you going to give yourself anyyyy relief before then?”

He was teasing again, and the praise and indirect order was enough to send another pulse of heat to their cock, making it that much more painful and unsatisfying when they let go of it and lay back on the bed.

“I…guess I’m not.”

“she’s smart for a poorly-adjusted faggot, isn’t she?”

God, he was just so demeaning, and they were absolutely obsessed with it.

That warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of their stomach was back, and it felt even stronger than before. 

They almost had to resist the urge to bite their bottom lip and start jerking off again…and they could only muster the shakiest of responses.

“Yeah…she is.”

“such a good girl, law.” He wrote, and Lawrence could practically see the shit-eating grin on his handsome face. ��i’m looking forward to meeting you <3”

“Me too…”

[torialefay]

i somehow managed to get a virus with all the fun symptoms aka fever, congestion and horrible earache, all that right before an important exam. yay me! 🤧

i think one of the reasons why it feels extra bad is because living alone when you get sick, you have no one to help you out or just overall take care of you a bit and i'm so sad and overwhelmed over this rn </3

which made me think about my bias line aka 3racha and how would they be like when their s/o gets sick? (i could really use channie's caretaking mode rn but let's be honest if that was the case i wouldn't even let him do so because he would most likely get sick too lol)

that is no fun AT ALL. i live on my own too, and it can definitely be hard trying to manage it all yourself! i hope you start to feel better soon, anon :( <3

✨how 3racha takes care of you when you're sick: 💌📞☕️

christopher:

• probably can't take off of work (everything would fall apart), but he is texting you every 2 hours to check on you.

• before he leaves in the morning, he's making you a piping hot cup of honey lemon tea & leaving you vitamin C packets that he tells you to take

• promises he will spank you if you start feeling worse and don't let him know

• leaves you sweet little voice messages when he tries to call from the studio but you're napping

• leaves work as early as possible to get home to you. definitely stops to get soup on the way. grabs a weighted blanket too bc why not

• smiles at how cute you are when he comes home to you asleep with your face all squished

• lovingly teases you for looking like death and ruffles your hair

• even though you're sick, he'll still lay next to you and cuddle you up for a little while

changbin:

• depending on how bad you feel, he may try to stay home, or at least only work half a day.

• if he hassss to go to work, he's definitely coming back home during lunch to check on you

• calls his mom to ask what medicines he should get you

• he's got every snack you could ever imagine all lined up for you. anything and everything you could possibly want.

• still checks in on you while he's gone.

• if you tell him you're bored, he's telling you to do some online shopping and use his card. whatever you want to buy that will take your mind off of the sickness

• when he finally gets home, he comes in the room to see you all bundled up, looking grumpy

• he can't help but laugh at how cute he finds you, even if you're all grumpy.

• makes a point to tell you you look beautiful... he isn't getting in bed to cuddle tho lol his ass is sleeping on the couchhhh

• honestly probably bullies felix into making you cookies

hannie:

• loves you so much, but he is the ace of kpop and cannot get sick, so he is (lovingly) staying at least 10 feet away from you at all times.

• calls you his "poor little baby" regardless

• is genuinely worried about you all day when he's gone.

• tells all the members that you're sick and asks for advice on what to get you. he's just too neurotic when it comes to you.

• knows that you're independent and don't NEED him, but god does he want to help

• texts and asks what you want for lunch & when you tell him you don't feel well enough to eat, he just says "fuck it" and sends 3 different things. he figures SURELY it will at least tempt you.

• sends you a whole list of movies/shows to watch

• freaks out and doesnt know what to get at the pharmacy/drug store, so he ends up getting the most random assortment of medicines & vitamins

• when he gets home, he knocks sooooo gently on your door because he wants to stick his head in but doesn't want to wake you.

• moves a chair right next to your door so he can tell you all about his day... without coming into your room of agony

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Steve stumbles across the term "touch starved" when he's alone in the new century with nothing to do but explore the vast oceans of information online. The definition is unneeded. Instantly, Steve grasps an understanding of what it means. It makes his chest hurt. Still, he dives in deeper, looking into it...

Steve is touch starved.

There is everything online, including advice people are giving to each other. Advice for those who are touch starved. Advice given by professionals and amatures alike. Hook up with someone. No. Buy a weighted blanket. Steve doesn't know where he'd get one of those if he even had any desire to be pinned under something heavy. Try partner-dance classes. Steve could barely get himself to dance when he hadn't lived through death, so... that option is also, no. Listen to ASMR with personal attention included. Steve tries, he even gets a pair of headphones! But, too many of the noises hurt his ears. Get a massage.

Steve rereads that again, thinking.

A massage.

Maybe...

It couldn't hurt, could it?

Steve thinks a massage sounds like a good idea until it's happening.

He's lying face down on the masseuse's table and trying not to audibly sob. Tears stream down his face. His teeth keep chattering, but he can't keep clenching his jaw--it feels like he's about to crack his teeth.

This was maybe the worst idea he's ever had. He can't can't find humor in the thought of it being the worst idea he's had, considering all he's done. It's not bad because he's embarrassed that he's crying; it's bad because it has quickly faded from shock to relief to painful realization.

It's not enough.

The touch feels good, so, so good--he's soaking it in like a sunflower chases the sun in the sky through a long summer's day--but the massage doesn't get deep enough. The masseuse's hands are strong on his skin and muscle, but he needs touch in his bones and blood, beyond even, in his soul.

Yes, it's touch. It's connection. It's good. But. He might be worse now than when he walked in. Now he knows it's not enough. A massage can't fix this.

He wants--he needs someone to touch him who loves him. And there's no one left who fits that description.

That realization is lethal to him.

So, all he can do is cry. Shaking silently, gripping the table with white knuckles, listening to the white, sanitized plastic crack under his hands. He will make sure to leave an extra, extra large tip at the end of this hollow transaction that was supposed to help him achieve human connection.

[stinkypeanutbutter]

silly Aiden headcanons because I have no impulse

i probably already done these before in other headcanon posts I made but ermm I’ll do it again 😹

small TW for scars at the end 🗣🗣

AIDEN :

Aiden has the most unhinged playlist ever like oh my giggly goodness we got metal we got rock we got classic we got indie we got pop we got vocaloid Idfk whatever you can think of ( same 😹 )

totally had an immense phase of just everything . Creepy pasta , animation , FNAF , idk any other phases from 2016 help

Probably dated like once or twice , but they weren’t serious at ALL and mostly online . He just said yes because he wanted to be nice since he never really had friends ofc , so why hurt someone you barley know if it means getting a friend ? ( I’m gonna explode 😭 )

I’m not sure when this was actually invented , but he’d probably try and convince everyone to make battery acid candy drinks . ( they all say no 😔 )

Sorta sad headcanon they if no matter how hard to tries to solve a difficult puzzle , and he fails , he just starts silently bawling his eyes out . Cause you know he’s really good at them right ? He can solve them pretty quickly ? So if he’s like absolutely pressured by a bunch of people watching expecting him to win ( or like his friends cause yk they believe in him !!!! ) and he can’t solve the puzzle he’ll be like “ why can’t I solve this why is this hard why am I failing “ or something and then start crying ig ( Yeouchers angst 😿 )

Bro is the heaviest napper ever you can stack things on him for HOURS but the moment he actually sleeps most things can wake him ( if he’s not comfortable at least . He’ll sleep pretty well at sleepovers )

I can’t figure out an art style for him but I updated it so ignore that last drawing it’s grody anyway he sometimes draws people but prefers just random splotches of color . He has extremely stylized art but yk , it’s just ‘ weird ’ according to some people since it’s really . . graphic . Not in a BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD way but very mixed ( if you get what I mean )

Hugs everything when he sleeps you can’t tell me otherwise like you seen his old bed ?? He had NOTHIN so absolutely is he gonna cuddle everything near him

Hates competing . ( idk if he did it before but we’ll see ) like he doesn’t like doing puzzle competitions anymore that much , he just got bored of it and was really kinda forced to do it when he was younger . BUT if it’s in a game against his friends , he’ll probably do it just to help them out cause they always get stuck if Logan can’t figure it out either .

Does that thing with music where If it absolutely hits he just starts spazzing out and dances to it

that one thing where he walks around in a circle talking to himself if he’s really deep in thought ( he could go on for hours so someone has to pull him out to drink water at least )

TONS of posters in his room

Him and Taylor binge shows together , often ask the others to join when they aren’t busy . They totally watch anime ( Tyler calls it childish then gets really invested in uhhhh let’s say full metal alchemist and sport animes like haikyuu or something I can’t think of any he’d like . But I’m gonna make them all watch Ghost stories because it’s funny )

Aidlyn cuddling is mostly done at Aidens house cause his parents rarely go up to check on him ( 😅💥 ) and also he had a ton of blankets for Ashlyn to wrap herself in . He got her a heavy weighted blanket for her birthday one time so when that’s not around she just uses Aiden as a blanket if she’s feeling affectionate ( he’s warm in the winter time and pretty light believe it or not )

Has a medium spice tolerance , eats more then what he can handle like a stinky loser

doesn’t like anyone pointing out his growing hair roots so just don’t talk about it much 😅😅

steals chopsticks from restaurants cause who needs to buy any ??? They’re free if you don’t get caught / hj

sometimes just locks himself up in his room and lays in his bed thinking about life

LOVES drawing his friends ( especially Ash ) in his free time because he rarely draws in front of people , and will make an airplane out of it to throw it over to them . But he has that mentality where “ Everyrhing I make kinda sucks “ so expect to find doodles in the trash or hidden in his room

IPad kid , can’t tel me otherwise .

Loves hover boarding but he kinda sucks at it so he just 🧍🕺☠️ ( falls )

Will ram into everyone in bumper cars , almost sent someone flying ( Lilly , he bought her candy as a sorry )

rarely catches cavities because he actually has really strong teeth and willingly bites down on hard candies ( I do the same thing because I’m impatient 😹 )

Does all his school work at home cause school has too many distractions ( real )

Buys like body foundation to smear onto his legs and arms . He doesn’t want anyone to point out them out , and if they do he just tells them their from skateboarding . It can come off after a few days if he doesn’t reapply , but it’s fine since he does it again in between and would have to reapply anyway . Idk how it works 😿

Anyway who shall I do next ????? Put your answers in the comment section below subscribe like and support my Patreon see you in the next video 😹😹😹☝️☝️💥💥

[alicerosejensen]

Is there anyway we can see some more cute Leon and his girlfriend headcanons?

You asked - I did!

In fact, as I said, I will only deal with requests now, so I will slowly publish it. I hope it's not all that terrible.

Leon who.... part 2

§ Leon who likes to take you on vacations to quiet places. He especially likes the lake house where it is quiet and not crowded so that he can enjoy being close to you.

§ Leon who buys your favorite food/sweets.

§ Leon who doesn't care if you've gained weight or you've lost weight. He is not the one who will humiliate you for your body and in general he wants you to love yourself too, as he loves you.

§ Leon who will bring you your favorite drink without any problem.

§ Leon who will wrap you in a blanket in the cold winter and bring you a hot drink to keep you warm as soon as possible.

§ Leon who likes to play different games with you. He always laughs when you play some simulators and make him laugh with your funny comments.

§ Leon who will take care of you during your period. Without any problems, he will buy you hygiene products, bring painkillers, a heating pad, and will do everything to help you. In general, he will offer to visit a gynecologist to deal with this problem.

§ Leon who gives you his leather jacket without any problems (he has too much of a collection of them).

§ Leon who loves when you stroke his head when he is resting or sleeping on your stomach. His hands always hold you by the waist.

§ Leon who often looks into your online bookstore to place an order for the books you wanted to buy. These are his little gifts for you.

§ Leon who does housework with you. He will take care of all the hard work and go shopping with you without any problems.

§ Leon who will look for you until his last breath if suddenly you are stolen.

§ Leon who wants to start a family with you but will reluctantly accept the fact if you do not want children or vice versa will be glad if you make at least one baby Kennedy.

§ Leon who always tries to support you.

§ Leon who has nothing against small dogs but will obviously be skeptical when you bring any Pomeranian/Chihuahua/Dachshund into the house. At first, he will ignore his presence, but then... he will be the one who chooses comfortable clothes for your pet with you.

§ Leon who rides you on his bike.

§ Leon who sniffs/snores a little in his sleep but you are so used to it that when he is away due to his work it is difficult for you to fall asleep without it.

§ Leon who thinks to really buy a house in the suburbs and move there with you.

§ A Leon who will never, under any circumstances, raise his hand against you or let anyone else do it, and if someone dares to harm his beloved, then ...

§ Leon who likes long and tender morning kisses with continuation (only with your consent).

[trivialbob]

52 is my favorite number, when it's the overnight low temperature.

Pleasant daytime temperatures today. The last few nights were blessedly cool. I may need an extra blanket, because the windows stay open all night.

The LL Bean fall catalog arrived. It's not as thick as it used to be. "See other styles online." That saves paper and ink, I suppose, making Gaia happy. When online ordering got big, the catalog lost some weight and a bit of its luster to me. Then a Bean store opened in the Twin Cities. I can go there and touch stuff and not even have to buy it.

I'll probably look through this catalog once. 15 or more years ago the cover would eventually fall off because I paged through the catalog nightly as I watched TV. I marked pages of things I wanted. Sometimes I even placed an order.

Tonight's cocktail harks to warmer times. When the bottle of gin runs low I'll transition from ice cold martinis or G&Ts to brown liquor, usually bourbon and sometimes Scotch. Then maybe I'll see what Filson and Orvis have on their web sites.

[cnnmairoll]

Butterfly Bonds

Pairing : Matsukawa Issei x Reader Note : Another rewrite from one of my old fics, but I add more to it! You can find the old version here. I don't exactly do any major changes but more of the way I write it!

"What's in your hands, sweetheart?" Matsukawa asked as you set down the packages you received from the mailman today. "Oh, just a bunch of stuff I bought online. Care to help me out?" you grinned. Being addicted to online shopping, you couldn't resist buying not only for yourself but also for Issei.

Issei sighed at your little addiction but still walked over to grab a pen knife from the drawer. You settled all your packages on the floor and started organizing which ones to open first.

"You're going for the big ones first?" he asked. "Mhm! Just be careful with this one; it's really fragile." Today's mail contained six packages, and one of them was a gift for Issei.

The first package was a glass water jug dispenser. You wanted to spruce up your apartment by changing some furniture and making it look prettier and cleaner. After Matsukawa managed to open all the cardboards and bubble wrap, he carefully pulled out the dispenser along with a plastic bag containing its accessories.

"There should be a stand for the dispenser… Ah! It's stuck in the box," you said, flipping the box to the other side to try opening it, but it wouldn't budge. As you attempted to open one end, Matsukawa suddenly noticed, "Wait, Y/N—" but it was too late. You cut your finger on the cardboard.

It was a somewhat deep cut, and it started bleeding. "Ah, shit! Hold on, let me get you some bandages," Matsukawa said, rushing to a drawer and returning with a first aid kit. "Here, show me your finger," he said, gently taking your hand and examining the cut.

"Seii, it stings," you whined as Matsukawa carefully wrapped the bandage around your finger. Once it was done, he set aside the first aid kit and the troublesome box. "We'll come back to that later. I'll open the other packages for you."

So you sat there, watching Matsukawa open the packages one by one. There was a mug, a figurine, jewelry, and some books. There was one tiny package left, and you decided to open it yourself.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa cleaned up the mess you both made and disposed of all the packaging supplies. You pulled out two matching silver rings, one with a butterfly on top and the other a ring band with a hole shaped like a butterfly.

"That looks pretty, baby," Issei commented as he returned from cleaning up. "This one's for you, so we can match!" you grinned, holding out one of the rings. Issei smiled back at you and put the ring on his finger. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing your temple.

As you both sat there, admiring the matching rings on your fingers, a mischievous glint appeared in Matsukawa's eyes. He leaned closer to you, whispering, "You know, there's one more surprise I have for you." Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

Matsukawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a playful smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a silver butterfly pendant. Your eyes widened in delight, and Issei's grin mirrored yours.

"For the butterfly who brings light and joy to my life," Matsukawa said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. You could feel the weight of the pendant against your chest, and it served as a constant reminder of Matsukawa's love and thoughtfulness.

Touched by his gesture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love. The two of you shared a moment, basking in the warmth of your connection and the joy that radiated between you.

As the evening continued, you all settled down on the couch, snuggled up together. Matsukawa had brought out a fluffy blanket, and wrapped it around the two of you, creating a cozy nest. With contented smiles on your faces, you began to discuss future plans and dream about the adventures that lay ahead.

The room was filled with laughter, whispers, and the soothing sound of each other's heartbeat. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything.

And so, in the warmth of that embrace, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new joys, new surprises, and a love that would continue to blossom like butterflies taking flight in the summer breeze.

[pinkandgoldensoul]

Already Home || Chapter 5 - Everything Has A Cost

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pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, online hate towards reader, insecurities, fluff, angst other notes: fake instagram things? Loosely based on Singapore GP 2022 word count: 10.1k (as always, feel free to use dividers to split the chapter into chunks!) A huge thanks to whoever reblogs or likes the story and a special thanks to @ally4and33 for her support in the last couple days! ♥ Love you all!

It felt soft. The light knocking on your eyelids, asking for permission with its warmth. As your entire body slowly moved, awakening, you snuggled up to the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders and enjoyed its coziness. Max’s smell still trapped onto the pillow, you smiled with eyes closed. He wasn’t there, but you knew he had been all night, cuddling with you and falling asleep; you still could feel his thumb repetitively rubbing your skin as he held you close and the beating of his heart lingered on your mind as a beautiful song that you play on loop, knowing all the lyrics. By heart. Waking up to those memories – real ones, this time – made your insides twist in a pleasant discomfort; you knew you weren’t mistaken, you knew Max had stayed over with you, holding each other, and you didn’t have to fear or mistrust your mind. You had snuggled and cuddled together, and nobody could doubt it. No drunk, slurred mental estate could put those moments at risk. You owned them, forever.

You looked over to the side, only to realize Max wasn’t lying next to you. You weren’t surprised, though; you figured he may have decided to go training, have breakfast or simply get up. Staring at the ceiling, you smiled: your nose didn’t feel as stuck as it was the day before and an unknown wave of positive, bright feelings earned you a decent dose of optimism. You probably had been needing it for quite a long time. «Good morning, y/n.» Max’s voice made your head snap up towards the door, and you actually would’ve preferred not to see him. That smile wrinkling his lips, his eyes brimming with light, his whole appearance blinding you way more than sun beams could ever manage to: everything about him enchanted you. «Morning,» you whispered, stretching a bit. «Slept well?» he asked, getting closer to the bed. «Really, really well.» you answered, uncapable of stifling in a huge smile. «Bet you did, it’s 11:30!» Max said, laughing. «You sleep in way more than I do, c’mon!» As you said that, you rolled over the bed, facing the pillow, and you felt the mattress sinking down onto your side due to Max’s weight. «I’ve bought you some medicine.» You eyed the small plastic bag he still held in his hands. «I think I’m doing better.» «Doesn’t mean you’ve fully recovered.» Max added. «I know, but-» «No, don’t even bother telling me you don’t need medicine because I’m not listening to you.» After a small pause, Max looked at you again, almost unsure. «Do you really feel better?» «Yes, still a bit sluggish, but I feel fine.» Despite the positives in your feedback, he couldn’t help but get stuck thinking about the negatives. «Sluggish? Maybe you have a little bit of temperature?» «I don’t think so?» Max rummaged into the plastic bag and took out a brand-new thermometer. «Why did you buy a new one?» you chuckled at the sight. «Because now this is your personal thermometer.» «Thanks…? Didn’t know I’d need a personal one.» you raised a brow, still amused. «Oh, but this is special, y/n. It will know everything about you.» You inspected the packaging thoroughly, trying to convince yourself it would, without really succeeding. «You can give a name to it, if you want.» «Max, it’s a freaking thermometer!» you laughed. «So what? It may get offended if you don’t. You know, it’s really sensitive.» As he cracked that lame joke, you glared at him. «Tell me you didn’t say that.» Max’s cheeks immediately squished upwards to make room for his mesmerizing and innocent smile, happy and giggling as a kid would do after making a mess. And you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning at him as well. «You’re so stupid…» «And now I’m sure you don’t have a temperature, because your heart’s stone cold. Poor thermometer.»

After a couple of minutes – and a lot of insisting – Max dragged you out of the bed so that you could have some breakfast-brunch-lunch-whatever you have before noon; then, he persuaded you to take some medicine to relieve the dizziness and you started to feel better. Max noticed your eyes got livelier and livelier as time passed by and it only encouraged him to suggest new activities, as he would’ve liked to spend all day talking with you, relaxing on the couch, or onto the bed watching a movie, but in his mind a whim, an urge, a need and, ultimately, a duty, called upon him. Getting ready for Singapore. He needed to come back to his other house to get some simulator work done, he was missing it; but how could he ask you to come with him and get bored all alone? Or if you decided to stay at the apartment, how could he leave you alone again? Max felt troubled at the way he had gradually become unable to accept the idea of you being on your own; it wasn’t a matter of trust, despite the latest events. He simply couldn’t let go of your soft hands, of your scent, of your lips curving into a beautiful smile, of your voice chanting him like a siren.

Sitting onto the bed, Max played with your hair, combining strands into a messy braid. So lost in the process, he didn’t even remember when and why he had asked you to let him do so. «Are you going for a loose braid?» you enquired, enjoying the slow-paced rhythm of his fingers working on your hair. «Yes, my specialty.» As he heard you giggling, Max felt his heart caving in. «When did you learn to braid?» «When I was seven. My mum taught me how to braid Victoria’s hair.» A fond smile immediately bloomed onto your lips, and you were lucky enough not to have Max in front of you, so that you could hide it. He had shared with you a few of his childhood memories before, and his sister’s name always came up, either because she was present or absent during his karting days; you could tell he really loved her and somehow still felt sorry for taking their father and himself away from her. He had also showed you some pictures, which had your heart melting in awe, though you’d try to dissimulate. Max was a loving person and you cherished every seed of affection he would plant along the way, just so you could grow even fonder of him. «Is it done?» you asked, as the weight of your hair leaned back onto your skin. «Yes.» With a quick motion, you brought the braid forward, onto your collar bone, and stared at it. Max sat back in front of you and got captured by the sun light shining through the window behind your back, reflecting its gold onto some rebel strands of hair, as a perfect frame to your face. Reacting way too late to your “Thank you”, Max stuttered, realizing he still had to tell you about his plan. Had he prepared one? Not really. But his instinct dictated it to him, spontaneously, as he started speaking to you. «Tomorrow I need to go back to the house and get done the training for the race and I was thinking you could come with me.» Your eyes immediately flicked to his, a glimpse of surprise flashing inside of them. «A-are you sure? I don’t want to bother you…» «I’ll be locked inside a room pretty much all the time, how could you ever disturb me?» he chuckled. As you pondered in silence, Max prompted you with all the activities you could undertake there and reassured you about getting proper medications if you still needed them, offering to be the one to go buy them. As he kept maxplaining in order to persuade you, you giggled and stopped his rambling. «Max, it’s okay. I’ll come.» you smiled. His face immediately lit up, and your chest ignited at the sight; without noticing, his fingers had reached yours onto the bedcover and they had shared a rush of electricity, of magic. Of complicity. Of… something. Something you couldn’t name, but definitely something sweet, warm, comforting and almost painful at the same time. #

«This is the room. Do you need me to show you the bathroom?» «No, we’ve been here a few days ago, I remember.» «Fine.» Max scratched his head. «I’m… I’m going to ask what’s for dinner.» «Okay… I’ll take out my toiletries, then.» «Perfect!» Max rushed out of the bathroom quickly, eaten alive by embarrassment. He’d been awkward in his life before and obviously had slipped up countless times, but after that little talk, a thin veil of uncertainty, hesitation and discomfort weighed down onto his cheeks as a fire, covering the skin with a soft blush and making his hands slightly clammy. Max hated not being in control of his heart drumming inside the ribcage, pleading to get out and reach its half; he hated his voice cracking or sounding insecure despite the attempts at dissimulating; and he also hated his mind running, racing on its own and replaying moments he’d prefer not to be reminded of while standing in front of you. Could he really blame his mind, though? After all, he had been the one to ask you to come back to the house where you nearly had kissed, nearly had hooked up, nearly had crossed the fine line between friends and not-just-friends; still, it was the place you had danced clinging to each other, got drunk together with smiles, whispers, fingers intertwining and shivers, cutting all the noise and everybody else out of your piece of heaven. All these memories were mere rings to a longer chain and the more Max tried to trail back to its beginning, the further it would get due to the new – old – images of you two together, packed inside the same untitled folder of his heart. The only partial relief was he wouldn’t be able to spend too much time with you due to the simulator training.

He wasn’t alone in his struggles, though. You avoided the reflecting surface of the mirror in which you had seen played forbidden fantasies only a couple days before, and as you turned around taking a closer look to the bathroom, you eyed the bathrobe you had worn, all your attention channeled towards those three letters on full display. Max. You recalled yourself freaking out in there, convinced you and him had slept together, then stealing the robe away without a second thought. When did it all become so overwhelming you would fall apart simply going back to those memories? You closed the cabinet with a firm thud: getting through the sudden closeness had never seemed so hard.

«Hello?» Slowly waking up, you tried opening your eyes. «Hi, Alice, what’s up.» It was Max speaking; his voice was distant, but still clear enough to hear it. «No, I’m awake. Why are you calling, though?» He seemed like he was in the room next to yours, at the phone with someone. «Hope it’s not a new media activity, we already have a lot this week.» Visualizing the floor plan in your head, you reasoned he was in his bedroom. «What? Is this a joke?» As Max’s tone raised, you couldn’t refrain yourself from eavesdropping a little bit more attentively. «But where did they get these numbers? Did they make them up? Unbelievable…» Numbers? Was he talking about simulation work? «Well, we could sue them for defamation. ‘Cause we’re fine, right?» Nope, definitely not simulation work. Your forehead hurt, and with those words dancing in your brain confusion inevitably grew. «Alice, can we please talk about this on Wednesday? Just tell me that other thing.» Hands rubbing tiredness out of your face, you sat onto the bed. «For fuck’s sake… Is it bad?» Feet barely touching the ground, you tried gathering energies to get up. «THEY SAID WHAT?!» But Max’s altered voice got you flinching, startled, frozen in place. «How do they dare? Write down all their names, because I’m not being interviewed by those assholes! Don’t get them near me! Fucking dickheads.»

With featherlike steps, heart thumping in your chest, you leaned against the door frame of Max’s room, trying not to disturb him and hinting at your presence at the same time. «No, we’re not discussing it now,» he said in a hurry, after noticing you were standing a few meters away. You unsurely walked towards him. «But I want this to be clear: I am deciding what to do, and I don’t want anybody else to interfere.» As Max abruptly ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket, only to look at you, the breath you were holding finally released. «Who was it?» you managed to whisper, full of doubts and uncertainty. Max, noticing your distress and able to read that little veil of sleepiness you hadn’t been able to shrug off your face, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, giving you a shy smile. «Alice Hedworth.» You raised a brow, in confusion. «The communications manager of the team.» he plainly answered. You looked down, recalling the quick-tempered replies he had given, then raised your eyes back at him. «Why would you have to sue people? What happened?» «Did you eavesdrop?» You gaped at him, feeling like a thief caught red-handed. «Uhm… It woke me up, so…» Max sighed. He’d rather not tell you, but he was aware it was inevitable for you to find out eventually, so there was no point in hiding it from you. Plus, there was probably nothing to worry about. Or at least Max hoped so. «Some journalists claim we breached the cost cap last year. They also say another team is involved, but of course, we’re the ones under the spotlight and now they’re complaining about how it’s unfair we won the championship, since we did it illegally, to their saying.» Max’s placid expression wasn’t able to instill reassurance in you. «But you guys are really fine?» «Of course we’re fine, they’re just coming at us because they cannot accept they’ve lost and scandal is the only way to bring us down at the moment, since their car can’t.» He slightly chuckled at his own comment, but again, it did nothing to calm your mind down. «How could they invent all of this? I mean, it’s a pretty big accusation, they must have some sort of proof in order to say it… How did they get numbers?» «I don’t know, I’m not an accountant. And you aren’t a detective, y/n.» Max said, smiling at you. «C’mon, let’s go have breakfast.» He was guiding you towards the kitchen with his fingers barely brushing against your lower back, when suddenly another thought crossed your mind. «What was the second thing?» «Uh?» he said, caught off guard. «You said you wouldn’t release interviews to some journalists.» you explained, taking a seat. He frowned. «You really paid attention to the conversation, didn’t you?» Max turned his back to you, grabbing two cups from the cupboard and hiding his reaction to the topic. «You don’t have to worry about it.» he downplayed. «Just paparazzi being annoying as always. But they’ll be taken care of.» You would’ve liked to pay more attention to the way his tone had subtly turned serious, suggesting bother and almost rage; the last bit of the sentence been spitted out of the mouth as a curse, in a lower voice, so that its darkness couldn’t reach you.

You should’ve known. You should’ve expected it to happen, sooner or later. It was bound to happen, you told yourself. After all, been dragged down the pitlane by one of the most famous drivers in the world under thousands of flashing cameras wasn’t really a gesture that would get anyone go unnoticed by the press. Of course, medias had gone crazy over those pictures taken in Monza, but the true bomb was dropped with the rumors of the probably-not-so-private party of last week. Suddenly, your name started to travel from mouth to mouth, even though nobody had ever acknowledged your presence before. You went from being a stranger to the Cupid’s arrow breaking into Max’s cold heart, the one who caused him and Kelly to argue and ultimately split, a mysterious girl no one knew who had unspecified intentions: clout? Money? Visibility? After all, you could’ve never gained those alone: you weren’t that beautiful. Kelly was way prettier than you; she brought a heavy and significant surname and was successful in her field. Who were you? A parasite? A gold digger in search of fifteen minutes of fame? A lot of people agreed on the fact that you definitely didn’t look like someone worthy of being pictured together with Max Verstappen. To be fair, nobody had prepared you for it anyway, but you couldn’t say Kelly hadn’t warned you.

The weather in Singapore was extremely humid; you couldn’t tell, though, if the sweat forming onto your skin was the product of the low atmospheric pressure or the fruit of being swamped and chased by a group of photographers, journalists and phones used as microphones, directly pointing at you like knives. It wasn’t a walk of shame; indeed, you couldn’t understand what was there to be ashamed of, you didn’t know what you were supposed to tell those people, and neither could guess what they expected to hear when there was nothing you had to say. Still, your gut sensed the hidden words and the secret turmoil you had to keep inside, paired up with the anxious oppression of the small crowd surrounding you, addressing questions at you, as you marched head-low towards Red Bull’s garage. «Are you the reason Max and Kelly Piquet broke up?» «How long has he been cheating on Kelly with you?» «Y/n, please answer some questions for us!» «How did you guys meet? When did your relationship developed into something more?» «Y/n, please, can you confirm the rumors about the party in Monaco?» «Can you tell us more about your family?» You abruptly halted your steps. Which family?, you bitterly said to yourself. Still lost in thought, you distinctly heard the clicks of a camera taking pictures. In that exact moment, you felt nothing more than a lifeless doll inside a lions’ cage: you weren’t a person anymore, you were just an object, without feelings and sensitivity, which had to withstand whatever they wanted to do to you or give them anything they tried to gain from you. Before rage could take the upper hand, you felt two hands dragging you away from the journalists. «It’s enough pestering for today.» You felt Carlos quickly grabbing your arms and guiding you towards the heart of the paddock, in order to leave all of them behind and preventing them from even daring to follow you. «I promise you the hospitality is a much quieter place.» he said, smiling. A veil of numbness, though, had washed emotions away from your face: reality had thrown an ice bucket at you, not only forcing you to face your inner chaotic magma of feelings, but justify the lack or the presence of them in front of the world as well. It was clear, you weren’t ready. You told yourself the timing of the news was absolute crap, unmerciful, cruel; if it had happened a couple months earlier, the situation would’ve been almost totally under control. Because you would’ve had nothing to control. «Don’t mind them, they’re going to drop it soon.» Carlos’ words momentarily distracted from your trail of thoughts, and you were glad they did. «Hopefully you’re right.» you sighed.

You both plopped onto a small couch in the living area, absentmindedly watching the tv hung on the wall. Sitting in silence, caught in your headspace, you didn’t notice the Spaniards eyes studying your expression. «So… Italy did good to the both of you, uh?» Carlos smugly looked at you. You rolled your eyes, kind of annoyed. «Stop it.» «I mean, now I get why you were so worried something happened at the party.» «Aren’t you supposed to help me relax?» «Isn’t it working?» Your furrowed eyebrows made your confusion clear. «No?» «I think it does. Now that you’re mad at me, you’re getting those journalists out of your head.» As a faint smile lingered onto your lips, a voice coming from the tv immediately caught your attention, drew your gaze, captured your undivided attention: Max’s. Seeing him suddenly lit up your opaque features, and Carlos noticed; unfortunately, he also witnessed distress and worry replace the fondness inside your eyes. You couldn’t bear the sight of it. No, as much as you tried to avoid it, there was an inner part of you that shattered in pieces while hearing journalists insinuating stuff without proof, implicitly – but not trying to hide it either – suggesting Max wasn’t worthy of being a champion, that the 2021 title had been robbed. Once again, his abilities and merits were questioned looking at parameters that didn’t include his outstanding performance and talent. And it hurt you; somehow, it hit close. When he had informed you about the rumors it didn’t seem that bad, or serious, or anything that could be real, to be honest; but everybody referred to it as a grounded certainty, a fact to deal with and, even before an official confrontation with the FIA, all cried scandal. Inside Max’s cold eyes, you read frustration and anger. You couldn’t stand it. So you stood up. «Y/n?» Carlos asked. You left the hospitality without adding a word.

Your feet automatically moved down the paddock with small and quick steps, trying to go as fast as they could. You didn’t cross eye with anybody, because the only person you wanted to see wasn’t walking in the crowd. There was un urge, a deep-rooted need to seek refuge in Max’s arms, unfold your distress and take out his, merge them together and let go of them. With fidgeting hands, you reached for your phone in the jeans’ pocket and called him. You had so many things to tell him; so many useless words to make sure he was doing okay, so many dreamed reassurances you wanted to give and be given back. Although he wasn’t picking up, you marched towards your destination until you finally saw Red Bull’s logo standing out onto the external wall of the hospitality. You were ready to approach the entrance, about to step onto the stairs and run inside, but someone sprung up in front of you warding you off with an arm. «Sorry, you can’t get inside!» This person from the team guided you a couple meters away from the door you desperately wanted to cross. You looked at her closely, and you saw a tag onto her Red Bull shirt. That Alice, uh? Now it makes sense. «What?» you simply asked. «You’re not allowed to get inside our hospitality, I’m sorry.» she quickly repeated, shaking her head. «But I need to talk to-» «Y/n, I’m sorry, but you can’t. I don’t know what Max told you, but we as a team have other problems to deal with at the moment and we don’t want rumors about you two to be on the list as well.» The stern expression she put on made you stand still, speechless, almost uncapable of reacting. «Also, you’re not allowed inside the garage throughout the weekend. As soon as the situation with the media gets better, you’ll be welcomed again, I promise.» «I just wanted to talk to him.» you whispered. She sighed. And she left. After exchanging a few words with people from the stuff – probably making sure they wouldn’t let you in – she disappeared inside the building, and with her all your hopes of relief.

«She can’t get near Max down the track, in the pitlane or here in the paddock, okay? Paparazzi are everywhere and they’re just waiting for those two to slip up again.» Alice spoke to some colleagues in the communication area with a peremptory tone; hearing heavy steps behind her, though, she immediately turned into ice. «Who’s slipping up?» Max asked, quickly taking a sip from his water bottle. Alice deeply inhaled, mastering the courage to confront him. «You and y/n, Max.» she replied, sharp. As your name was brought into the conversation, Max’s focus shifted completely on it. «What happened? Did you see her? Did you talk to her?» Alice, trying not to get intimidated by his pressing questions, kept her tough face on. «She came here to see you and I had to make her leave. There are too many eyes on you, and I’ve already told you this is an extremely delicate moment! Also, Kelly is involved, and we don’t need other troubles…» «But Kelly isn’t involved at all, this is only between me and y/n! And we’re not even together!» Max said, raising his voice in frustration. «Press doesn’t care about the truth, they just know what they can see! And they will try to dig deeper if you give them the opportunity to.» «So what? I can’t see her anymore? She isn’t going to come over to our garage for races?» Max asked, sarcastic. He probably expected Alice to match his sarcasm, but she hesitated, afraid to fuel his rage. Her silence, of course, did the exact opposite. «I told you it’s my decision! If I want to hang out with her, I will! You’re nobody to tell me who I can spend my time with!» «This isn’t meant to be against you, and you know it.» Of course not, he thought. It never is. They treated him like a little puppet for their PR content he didn’t give a shit about and expected him to accept restrictions on the people he could spend time with. His manager, approaching Max to calm him down, put a hand onto his shoulder. «Come on, Max, let’s go-» «What would you do if they asked you to stop hanging out with a dear friend of yours?» he asked Alice, gradually more uncapable of containing anger. «I’d do it, if it’s for the good of the team.» «But this only has to do with me! My friendships don’t involve the team!» «Yes, but YOU are part of the team! Guess what, for most you ARE the team, you represent it, and when they see you, they think of Red Bull!» «And do you think this is fair to me or to anyone else working in the team?» he replied, crossing arms. «Okay, Max.» Alice said, resigned. «Okay. If you don’t like it, you can call Christian and tell him yourself.» With that, Alice simply walked away: she had nothing else to add, since there was no one willing to listen.

Max didn’t waste any time. His steps echoed through the corridors – followed by his manager, who vainly tried to stop him – and constant loud thumps could be heard from quite a distance, causing a few employees to peek the head out of their office to check who was passing by. He didn’t even knock on the door; there wasn’t time for formalities, there wasn’t enough patience to calmly handle the situation. «Can we talk?» #

You sat across each other. You weren’t there. It was hard to explain, but you felt some kind of comfort in being surrounded by silence despite a crowd of people going back and forth as little ants. Despite Sebastian sitting in front of you, sternly staring at you. There was tension; composure, studying of movements, distance. And it magically dissipated, as Sebastian’s sigh erased the wall of unsaid words dividing you. «I’m sorry for treating you badly last time.» you casually said, not daring to cross eyes. A pause. You quietly reasoned which words to use next, although Sebastian prevented it by breaking his iced silence. «You don’t need to apologize. I could see something troubled you, and I’m pretty sure it still does.» He was met with an unmutated expression. «You can talk to me, if you need it. Whatever it is, I’ll try to help you.» Yet another shower of silence. He then insistently searched for your eyes. «You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with all the media pressure. I’ve been there before, and I’ve learned how to deal with it.» «That’s not the problem.» you said, reluctant, diverting gaze. «Okay. Then what is it?» he persisted. Yeah. What was it? The press asking you about your private matters or them hinting at a romance affair which was non-existent, to your dismay? Was it the fact that you wished it was real and actually had to hide something, instead of fighting feelings you desperately tried to conceal and repress in front of anybody, Max and you included? «Or I’d better ask… Who is it?» Sebastian’s words had you like a deer caught in the headlights. «Guess Max is still the deal, right?» he inquired again, leaning his elbows onto the coffee table. «Yeah.» you hummed, mostly to yourself. «Do you like him?» Seb slightly smiled at it. «I don’t know. I mean, I think so, but- It’s probably just me, it’s not worth ruining our relationship.» you rambled. «Who said you are going to ruin the relationship?» Seeing Sebastian put a skeptical face, you swam in your own insecurities: the amount of paranoia you’ve been dealing with in a week made your head hurt, and for a second the clouds darkening your mind got away thanks to Seb’s light of reason. You would reflect upon it in another moment, though: the weekend already seemed difficult even after putting aside your emotions, and you clearly weren’t in a position to gamble. «I can’t afford to lose him.» you then stated, staring at the sky still lost in thought. «Trust me, Max won’t let go of you that easily. He really enjoys your company, you’ve got nothing to fear.» Sebastian smiled. You tried to do the same, but you told yourself you would’ve liked to be as confident as he was.

Max didn’t like losing. Not that hard to figure out, some would say. But it was a trait which he kept also off the track; there was something so confident and assertive in the way he would speak his mind, express his opinion, a sort of determination stemming from dead-certainty and belief. And Max had just conquered a small win, after all. You weren’t allowed to enter the Red Bull garage, but he had managed to convince Christian Horner to let you stay in the hospitality. «But I don’t want her to be here tomorrow and on Sunday, understood?» Christian asked, making sure Max wouldn’t take advantage of it. Max nodded, despite not being fully satisfied yet; after texting you to come over and seeing you enter the hospitality, though, a bright smile immediately spread over his lips, as he immediately searched Alice’s eyes to catch her reaction and enjoy it. She crossed her arms and simply walked away, visibly annoyed. At the same time, Max saw you getting closer with a cheerful appearance: without even thinking twice, his arms were ready to welcome you in a hug. «Thank you.» you murmured as you parted. Looking at you, Max couldn’t restrain a thought: winning had never tasted so sweet. #

«So many corrections, right?» «Yeah… I lost the count of all the times I was about to hit the wall!» Max and Charles having a little debrief after the first sessions of free practice was an established tradition no one ever really complained about. The two of them were walking inside the paddock, heading towards the hospitalities, and the discussion gradually shifted from track conditions to simply catching up with each other. Charles was quick to notice way more cameras than usual were pointing at them; he hadn’t really paid attention to the rumors, so he felt naturally weirded out by the sudden interest. «Is it just me or is everybody following us?» the Monegasque lightly chuckled. «Yeah, seems like it.» Max brushed off. «Did I do something?» Charles asked, utterly oblivious to the situation. «No, they’re here for me, don’t worry.» They stopped a couple meters before Red Bull’s entrance, but before splitting, Max stepped in. «I still haven’t apologized for how I treated you the morning after Zandvoort. So, uhm, I’m sorry.» Charles squinted, thinking hard, then let out a “Ah!” after successfully remembering the situation. «Don’t worry, I noticed there was tension between you and y/n. It’s fine.» As Charles added a smile to the sentence, a laughing filled the air and made the two drivers turn their heads: they saw you getting out of the hospitality playing and laughing with Sergio’s wife and, in particular, with her children. You had spent time with them and watched free practice together, and now that it was time to say goodbye. Exiting the door, you immediately perceived stares on you and couldn’t help but cross them. As you and Max made eye contact, a spontaneous and traitor smile appeared onto your lips, making Charles slightly spying on Max’s expression to observe his reaction. Acknowledging the newly relaxed atmosphere between the two of you, he didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him a little. «Did she already recover?» «Yes, almost fully.» Max answered, as they saw you discretely blow your nose. «She’s doing a lot better.» «And you’re both doing better, I see.» Max was about to look at him and reply, tell him off or something, but he wasn’t able to divert gaze as you gently tousled Sergio’s son’s hair, a fond and amused look in your smiling eyes. Charles’ goodbye reached his ears delayed, and Max got lost staring at you, in awe, his heart twisting in affection.

On Saturday, things didn’t get better. Max had texted you to ask if you’d like to have breakfast with him outside of the paddock before the third session of free practice, so that the team couldn’t have anything to scold him for. You had gladly accepted. You dressed up, combed your hair and pulled the door behind you as you got out; inside the lift, you felt a light comfort since you were about to spend some time with Max again. But no, things weren’t supposed to get better. In fact, as you tried to get out of the hotel, you were stopped by the presence of a bunch of journalists waiting outside the hall glass door. Do they care that much about me?, you wondered. You stood still, hands closed into cold-sweat fists, unable to take a decision. A voice inside of you told you not to pay attention to those jerks and to fiercely make your way past their ignorance; silence would kill their loudness. However, there was a gut feeling you couldn’t ignore, pleading you not to enter the lions’ den, because you simply wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. Paralyzed by fear, you retraced your steps.

Pushed the door, took your shoes off and passed a hand through your hair, breathing deep. There was nothing to freak out about. You got closer to the window and peeked down the street: they were still there. That’s normal, you thought, they were there a few minutes ago. You swallowed. You noticed your mouth had gone dry. Was it dry when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. Swallowing multiple times, you realized it still hurt a little bit. Did it hurt when you woke up? You couldn’t tell. You quickly took your phone out and texted Max. “sorry, I don’t feel good, I’m not coming” Had you just made up an excuse so that you didn’t have to show up? You couldn’t tell. You sent the text, then threw the phone onto the covers in distress. You peeked down the pavement once more: they were still there. Nothing to freak out about. You picked up your phone from the bed once again and did something you had never done, something you shouldn’t have, but that your irrationality reckoned as a good idea. Scrolling social medias to read what they had said about you. To your surprise, you found several debatable Instagram pages which posted stolen shots of you and Max. The most frequent attribute either one of you was given was “traitor”, oftentimes written in full capital letter onto your faces. The real cruelty, though, was stored in the comments section.

No need to freak out.

You run back to the window, your breaths picking up the pace as you noticed they were still there, still fucking waiting for you in order to assault you like a prey. You shut down the blinds, closing off the rising sun’s beams, drowning in the darkness. The phone, which you had let fall back onto the bed again without noticing, vibrated with a muffled sound. “Thought you were doing better…?” Knees gradually gave in under your shaky body, crawling on the floor with your back against the wall. “I thought that too”, you slowly typed. In that moment, your throat tickled and made you cough so hard you hoped to spit out the anguish’s knot in your stomach, emptying your body from the very bottom and finally getting rid of that discomfort. Before you had time to process it, coughs turned into sobs and a few ugly tears hid around your eyes, making your skin sting and burn. #

Sick. «What’s that pout, Max?» You had got better so fast, you’d had no problem for days… How come you were sick again? To be fair, Max easily guessed illness had nothing to do with it. «No, nothing.» Something was up yet another time. He knew you would avoid in any possible way further exposure, minimize the risk of being caught together and troubling the both of you. And this drove him mad. He couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions: he’d always had to fight against prejudices and poor thinkers, sailing the sea throughout major shitstorms, and he had learned how to handle the pressure from a very young age. He was used to it. But you weren’t. And he was aware. Though, he wished you would stop being so conditioned and influenced by other people. «Then put your helmet on, it’s almost time to go.» Lambiase’s voice brought him into the present, awakening the sounds of fervent mechanics bent over the car, the noise which had made him zone out in the first place. #

Vox media. A vox media is a word that has a neutral meaning per se, but can carry both a good and a bad one; it’s like a medal, with its two faces, both brought into the table whenever the term is mentioned. It’s funny how the chances of getting the wrong message it’s almost non-existent… Well, the context usually clarifies it. There are words that can only have good or a bad meaning in a specific situation. And as a driver, in the middle of your last flying lap of the last session, knowing the checkered flag is getting closer and closer and so is the adrenaline for a conquered pole position, taking all the possible risks you can in a street circuit, searching for grip in every single centimeter of asphalt, there’s probably only one thing you don’t want to be told. «Box, Max! Box, box, box!» «Why? What the… why?» A stab amidst the chest. This is what those words felt like for Max, leaving him breathless for a second, as his focus broke and fury took its place. «What the fuck!? What the fuck! What are you guys saying?!» They left him yelling in frustration on his own, keeping silent; but Max needed answers. «I don’t get it, what the fuck is this about?» «I’ll explain once you’re out, Max.»

As Max parked the car for the FIA to check it, his eyes flicked to the side: flashes got his attention, and a group of cameramen run towards Red Bull’s pit wall to picture their failure. And it was in that moment he finally realized how all the pressure the media had kept on the team had pushed the system to crumble like a house of cards, making them get stuff wrong with his car and preventing him from delivering as he was about to do. Did he really wanted to be filled up with crap excuses for their mistake? No. He had obliged to whatever they had instructed him to say in interviews about the cost cap, and they had thought banning you from the paddock would solve their problems. It clearly hadn’t. Max got out of the car and removed his helmet in a hurry: GP tried to hold him back, to no avail. He had already gone past him, not sparing a glance.

Max marched towards the hotel. The sweat clung onto his skin like a suffocating veil, and his frustrated rage certainly didn’t help getting rid of it. He passed the back of his hand on the forehead. He was on the edge. All because of the team fucking up his qualifying, the team who was in everybody’s mouth for the cost cap scandal, the team who had decided to get you away from him for PR reasons. His mind was filled up with racing thoughts, but one thing was extremely clear: he was fed up with all of it. There wasn’t any tolerability left; he would’ve stripped himself naked and run to you undressed, if that would get those paparazzi and “journalists” out of the way. Out of his way, out of yours.

Entering the building, the receptionist didn’t even manage to address him with practiced polite words, since Max simply sped right past him, thinking his racing suit would serve as a sufficient introduction.

He knocked onto your door with such a force you jumped, startled, still sitting in front of the tv in shock for the mishap. When you opened to him, your shock grew even bigger. Max didn’t give you time to react and stormed into the room as soon as there was enough space for him to sneak inside. You turned and followed his restless pacing back and forth, mouth still agape for the surprise. «Max, what happened?» you tried to ask, but the words came out with a shaky voice. «No fuel.» he replied, closing off the blinds to unwanted attention. «I… I’m so sorry… But I’m sure you’ll have the pace tomorrow! And- and there might be a safety car! Anything can happen during the race…» Rummaging through your mind in search of words of comfort, you stared at Max, who was giving you his back. He nervously passed a hand through his hair, as his chest started rising and falling quite fast. Why did he get there? It wasn’t your fault, and neither could you turn back time or change the situation. What was he searching for? What did he expect, what did he want from you? In a fraction of second, Max turned around and he immediately got the answer. You felt your wrist been pulled, while your bodies crashed together onto each other, molding together, melting, clinging. You could hear and feel onto your skin his hot, heavy and shortened breaths, as Max’s face nestled against the crook of your neck. It was so quick you didn’t see it coming; it was so natural you didn’t even try to avoid it. Because it simply felt appropriate and right to let Max loosen the embrace enough to stare at you and then quickly closing the gap, leaning in for a kiss. Hands full of your skin and lips dancing heatedly onto yours, Max understood: this was what he came there for. He hadn’t been able to resist without you, especially after the pressure he had withstood. He had needed you so bad. You couldn’t rewind time and prevent mistakes from happening, of course; but there was a lot you were able to do by simply standing on his side, smiling, encouraging him and checking up on him, things he had terribly missed. He just couldn’t stand the idea of you watching him from a screen, miserable, not even daring to put foot into the paddock in fear of people halting you and asking you inappropriate, nosey questions. And as his hands firmly held your head, perceiving the skin underneath them emanating warmth acted as a foot stomping on full throttle: suddenly, he needed to feel your body even closer, despite your faint attempt to regain breathing space gently pushing on his chest, and his tongue asked for permission to deepen the kiss, slowing down the rhythm only to make it more intense. Max had lost control since jumping out of the car, but he hadn’t realized; and even after running to you with his suit still on, ignoring every person around him, knocking on your door and kissing you out of the blue, then getting all worked up, no, he still hadn’t managed to notice. But your hands, still pressed down onto his chest, eventually splitting you apart… Yes, they were the ones to break the spell. The bitter cold that hit him as your body got away from his hold felt like a slap straight to the cheek. He sobered up, all at once, unable to speak or say anything now aware of his actions. On the other hand, you didn’t even know what had pushed you to move away: in fact, a part of you immediately regretted it. Out of breath, you vainly tried to come up with an explanation, some sort of defense, and quickly acknowledged your guards had completely fallen apart as soon as Max had crossed the threshold. «I didn’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.» Max said, clearing his throat, visibly embarrassed. «No, Max, I…» You what? You didn’t know, you couldn’t state it openly; was it a problem telling him or admitting it to yourself? Was it his unreadable expression making your hands clammy? Or was it him walking away defeated and disappearing as quickly as he had into the room? #

You tossed and turned under the covers, willing yet unable to find peace of mind: Max’s touch still lingered onto you, pervaded your senses and couldn’t brush him off your thoughts. You wished you had stopped him from leaving you in such a confused state; in fact, you wished you hadn’t stopped him at all in the first place. That kiss had felt like heaven: unexpected, unplanned, sudden, so that your heart sank into your chest; urgent and needy, as you were, even after not seeing each other for less than twenty-four hours; casted with tenderness, because it had stemmed from a comforting embrace; burning of desire, incomparably more passionate than whatever you had been able to imagine in your dreams after the party. Had it been another dream? Did you fall and hit your head? You sat straight up and pinched your cheek, scared to be living a lucid, feverish fantasy. It stinged. It was real. You crushed back again onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling and sighing. He had kissed you first. He had run to you, crossed the darkness of the night with his hair still sweaty only to kiss you and walk away. You wanted to torture yourself with how it wasn’t possible for you to love each other, but the only thing you could wonder with a smile written on the heart was whether Max had enjoyed it as much as you did. Above all the pictures journalists could’ve taken, opposed to the previous occasions, you told yourself you would’ve liked having been caught this time. Just to have a proof for your unreasoned happiness.

After unsuccessfully attempting at falling asleep, you had sent a text to Charles, asking him if they could have you inside the garage for the race. There was no way you would manage to lock yourself into the room, staring at the tv and watching Max doing everything he could to win the race and, possibly, the championship as well. Charles, a born gentleman, said yes despite being conscious of the extra spotlight the team would have to face.

You were surprised – and pleased – to see that nobody was waiting for you out of the hotel; strange, you thought, but people had probably got bored and tired of standing, and they decided not to harass you on Sunday. How kind of them.

Sitting with headphones in your hands, you watched the rain fall, mindlessly fidgeting with the wire. «Here you are, the star of the moment!» Charles chirped, taking a seat right next to you. «Y/n, an interview, please!» said Carlos, mocking one of the pleading journalists he had saved you from on Friday. You threw an annoyed glance at both. «I can still leave.» you threatened with a smile. «Oh, but you won’t.» Carlos confidently said, putting a pair of sunglasses on. Charles, amazed, eyed his teammate. «Carlos, you’re such a fashion icon!» «Tell me something I don’t know yet.» the Spaniard boldly replied. «Uhm… It’s raining and you don’t need sunglasses?» you asked, skeptical. Carlos let out a sigh in fake annoyance. «These aren’t for the sun.» he indicated them. «It’s a filter for all the bullshit you’re going to feed us with after we’ve asked you what we want to ask you right now.» He then turned towards Charles, who stared at him trying to telepathically read into Carlos’ head. «What… what was the question?» he whispered, still looking intensely at him. Carlos, flipping his head towards you, bore his eyes – well, definitely his sunglasses – at you with a knowing smirk. «Y/n.» «Yes…?» «I’m not getting in the car if-» «He’s not getting in the car!» Charles repeated after him, impressed. «Yes. I’m not getting in the car unless you tell me what the heck is going down between you and Max Emilian Verstappen.» Silence filled the air, as Carlos nodded in gloating and Charles shook his hand uttering a “Such a good question, mate”. After the little scene, they both turned to you at the same time. «So?» Carlos urged. «I… I don’t know what you want me to say!» you said, embarrassed. «Well, you could start with explaining what you were doing last night in the same room.» «How do you kno-» «Someone from the Ferrari stuff was down the corridor and saw you opening the door to him.» Charles confessed. Still a little bit mad about your privacy being violated, or better, about your vulnerability being exposed, Carlos pressed you even further. «Don’t you trust us? Charles, y/n doesn’t trust us.» he said, sad and offended.

You deeply inhaled, desperately trying to master the courage and tell them so that you could be over with it, but words died before you would even shape them. Charles, noticing how difficult it was for you, had an idea. «Carlos, why don’t we take a guess? And whoever loses, must stay five seconds under the rain?» «And the winner?» «The winner… The winner wins a hot chocolate!» Charles said, his eyes searching for confirm in yours. «Fine.» you breathed out. «Okay, I go first.» Carlos eagerly said, sitting on the edge of the seat. «You… you cuddled onto the bed!» «How sweet!» Charles chuckled. You shook your head, in denial, whispering “No, I’m sorry.” It was Charles’ turn, now; he leaned forward, forearms onto his laps, trying to read your eyes. Uneasy, your pupils flicked right and left in search of relief. «You kissed.» As he spoke those two words, a sudden cloud of warmth burned your limbs, awakening them from their sleep: your heart beat faster, your lips slightly parted in surprise and a pink flush tinted your cheeks. «You kissed!» Carlos yelled, jumping onto the seat, as if everything had become clear. Unable to sustain their astonished expression, you looked down. «It’s not something to be ashamed of.» Charles immediately tried to lift off your embarrassment. «It’s all wrong… I mean, all of this, we shouldn’t-» You stopped talking as you felt a hand touch your shoulder: it was Carlos, this time addressing you with a serious face. «Did you like it?» «Carlos…» «Did you like it, y/n?» «Yes, I did.» you whispered.

Feeling small in your chair, you hid the palms of your hand under your laps, still self-conscious. «I don’t know if he liked it…» «Bet he was the one to go for it.» Charles quickly jumped in. Yes, he had been. And the mere idea confused you even more, made your heart flatter and do somersaults inside your chest. «…But even if he did, we can’t go out or something, with all the hate we’re receiving. The team would never allow it.» «Y/n, listen.» Carlos began, addressing you. «After a qualifying session like the one he had yesterday, no driver would’ve crossed the city to leave a meaningless peck on a friend’s lips. He likes you and you like him, so there’s no need to overcomplicate things because of your fears when it is that simple.» «It scares me.» you whispered, still deep in thought. «I’ve got so much to lose…» Charles softly smiled, then cleared his throat to gain your full attention. «Imagine to be an f1 driver in qualifying: it’s Q3 and you just have one shot to set the pole. There isn’t time to be careful or afraid, you must send it, even if it means you have to take risks.» «Yeah, you gotta send it!» Carlos said, in excitement. «You get nothing for nothing, y/n.» «Guys, I’m not a racing driver.» you laughed. «But you’re going to be together with one of the best out there, so you need to gain some courage!» Charles, not satisfied with the discourage written over your face, tried to persuade you a bit more. «You will probably confront about it pretty soon anyway, and I think you should tell him how you feel. If you don’t, you would both miss out on an amazing relationship.» Uncapable of sustaining the serious atmosphere for so long, Carlos broke the short silence that followed Charles’ words. «Nah, would they really? I don’t think Max deserves it.» Saying so, Carlos took his glasses off and put them back into the pocket. «I’m getting emotional… Our little y/n has grown up so much, Charles…» he turned to him, «She’s about to have a boy now.» «And what a boy, Carlos!» the Monegasque chuckled. The three of you shared a laugh; as you watched them jokingly bicker, you couldn’t help but think you were lucky to have such amazing people to support you, despite them being famous and busy any time of year. Charles, feeling your eyes onto him, stared at you with a brow raised, as you seemed about to say something. «Thank you.» You both smiled at each other. «Oh, don’t thank me, y/n. You owe me a hot chocolate, after all.» Charles said, «And you have to go under the rain, Carlos.» «No, I don’t! It’s not fair!» he protested. «You gotta send it, Carlos!» you told him, Charles laughing uncontrollably at your joke. «You’re lucky I’m a gentleman.» he replied, raising his pointer finger at the two of you.

No one was surprised to find a tensed atmosphere around Red Bull’s staff. People had tried to dig deeper into the cost cap story to see things clearer, pointing at the team and angrily accusing them of cheating “once again”. Max let it all rain down, wash the frustration away from him and erase the grip from the track at once. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t make sense of his escapade; he had overstepped any boundary and completely disregarded any resolution he had set for himself. The “fine line” has been crossed and there was no making up for it. «Like the rain?» Max peeked over his shoulder and saw Daniel approaching. «It’s relaxing.» he then answered. The Aussie nodded and stared intensely at him, then looked out the window as Max did. «Do you remember the morning after the party?» Daniel abruptly asked. «In the kitchen?» «Yes.» «Uhm, yeah, there was Carlos as well.» Max recalled. «Right.» he paused a few seconds before carrying on. «Before you got up, I talked with him a bit and he told me a few things about y/n.» Daniel knew he had perked Max’s interest as he felt a pair of eyes watching attentively, and couldn’t stop a grin. Max, thrown off by his behavior, sighed annoyed. «If you’re joking, this isn’t funny.» «I’m not.» Daniel replied. «Carlos said y/n was freaking out because she’d had some kind of dream about you two but couldn’t tell whether it was some blurred memory or her subconscious messing with her in hangover.» «What was the dream about?» Max found himself whisper. «I don’t remember exactly. But you can ask her.» Daniel, pleased by his reaction, looked at him. «Carlos told me y/n likes you.» Those words sent electricity through his fingertips and awoke his heart, which beat faster: Max felt caught by feelings he couldn’t control nor understand, and they took over him to the point he couldn’t stop himself from releasing them. «Dan, I kissed her.» Max blurted out, confessing. Daniel goggled at him. «At the party?» he asked, surprised. «No, yesterday. After qualifying.» Silence. Max scratched his neck, nervous, itching everywhere, the same electricity travelling onto his skin. «Dan, I don’t know why I did it, and… and I don’t know what to do, because at first she seemed to be okay with it but then she pushed me away! I have no idea what’s going on…» Daniel flicked his eyes to the side before inching closer to him, so that nobody else could hear what he was about to say. «Max, I know you’ve just broken up with Kelly and that it might be too soon to say, but have you, like… considered you could’ve fallen in love with y/n?» The dam of his heart’s lake fell apart and a waterfall of emotions poured down as the rain did outside the window. Needless to say, Max’s awareness of his feelings for you hid under the thick layer of unconscious knowledge, and being exposed to it upset him greatly. «Guys, it’s time to race!» they heard someone say, probably some engineer from Red Bull or McLaren passing by. «It’s showtime.» Daniel said, nudging Max.

You watched the race from the Ferrari garage, once again, and it was even more nerve-wracking than usual, as yellow flags followed one another. Your eyes were vaguely paying attention to the images onto the screen, but your heart was constantly searching for Max’s position, and when a massive lock-up brought him in a run-off area and forced the team to pit, you were caught by an indescribable sadness, since the championship title was inevitably postponed.

Walking down the pitlane, hiding yourself from indiscreet eyes with some of the Ferrari merch Charles had given you as a camouflage, you saw an orange suit waving towards you. «Daniel! Congratulations for p5!» you said, grinning at him. «Oh, thanks.» he replied, a bit absentmindedly. His answer left you a bit dumbfounded: after such a good result for the team – with Lando in p4 – and for himself as well, you expected to see a glimpse of happiness in him. Then you reasoned he had just got out of the car, drenched in sweat and physically worn out. «Are you okay? Do you need some water?» you asked, not able to read his expression, eyes gazing far behind you. In fact, Daniel was tired, but his poor reaction was due to focus: he was searching for someone down the pitlane, and that person was Max. The Dutch had asked him to detain you in the middle of the post-race crowd so that he could confront you and talk to you without leaving the track (as the team had ordered him, after the latest events).

Max had run to the weighing to be one of the first drivers on queue and had jogged back to the garage to drop the helmet; he was so impatient to reach you, despite not being sure of what to tell you exactly. Maybe he simply wanted to see you and have you close. Easily getting rid of his PR assistant – since she was too caught up speaking with Sergios’ – and lowering the cap’s visor in hope of going unnoticed, he fiercely walked with eyes scanning left and right, and when he finally spotted the two of you, every step was lighter, as he felt closer to finally break free and disclose his hidden feelings. «Max!» Or maybe… not yet. «Max, stop!» Alice’s voice halted his wide strides; Max turned around, livid, and he would’ve lashed out at her if only he hadn’t seen the worry covering her face. «Take a look here!» she said, handing him the phone.

What's wrong with this instagram story, you ask? Oh, nothing. Simply sets up half of the drama planned out for next chapter. (I can't believe next chapter could be the last one, don't wake me 'cause I don't wanna leave this dream)

AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[equalseleventhirds]

what up besties sorry i haven't been online much but would u like to read the piece i wrote for my final for creative writing? it's metaporically about being trans n neurodivergent n disabled n ppl loving an idea of you more than you, but also it is about a zombie who comes back, not wrong, but not quite what anyone wanted..

(cw for death, electrocution, being buried (not quite alive), and complicated feelings about gender & name but that journey not being completed yet.)

- - -

Grave News

Amelia Marquez, 34, passed away in a tragic accident…

            Later, when anyone learns she woke up already buried, she can see the horror movie assumptions playing out behind their eyes. The thought of waking up, trapped in a tiny, dark, airless space, scrabbling at the walls, gasping for breath, the weight of the earth above pressing down, down, down…

            She smiles and accepts their pity, their horrified dismay, and does not tell them about lying awake, perfectly motionless, trying to figure out how to move. About how easy it is not to struggle for breath when pulling air into your lungs takes conscious effort. About pushing at different groups of muscles, her body twitching and twisting in the dark, until she works out forward, works out force, works out the flex of her hand as it pushes through velvet, then oak, then dirt, then dirt, then dirt.

            Amelia claws her way out of her own grave, not frantic, not berserk, but deliberate. Gradual. Almost mechanical, as she practices moving by repeating the same thing again and again, her patient hands working their way through wood, through earth, to the surface.

            (It isn't until later, standing in her parents' doorway and listening to the screams, that she realizes what ceaseless digging does to the human hand. She realizes that she somehow did not feel the pain as she dug. She realizes she needs to buy gloves.)

…the home she shared with her fiancé…

            Cole had been so certain about his repairs. Fifty bucks at Home Depot and a couple of days of work, and Amelia’s concerns brushed aside.

            “I’ve got this, Ames. Way better than hiring a contractor.” And she had agreed, had let him do it himself, had made dinner for a week while he spent his evenings messing with wires and fuses, assuring her that he was nearly done, that the video on YouTube made it so easy.

            Cole hadn’t been home when the lights went out, when Amelia went to the fuse box and tried to flip everything back on. When the jumble of wires in their walls shorted and flared and spread electricity through her body.

            When it killed her.

            Once her parents call, Cole drops everything to rush over. He falls to his knees in front of her, staring up into her face through a haze of tears and hope and shock.

            “You’re back. Ames, Amy, you’re back, how…”

            She stares down at her lap, making sure her hands are covered by the blanket her mother had nestled around her.

…a beautiful light in our lives, extinguished too soon. Her friends and family…

            Her memorial photo, the black clothes, the incense on the table, are all gone the morning after she comes back, packed away in boxes or thrown out in opaque garbage bags. Hands hesitate before touching her. They keep her at home, talking about rest, about recuperating.

            “Since you’ve been…” She sees the glances, the mouthed no, don’t say it. “…in your condition. It’s important to rest up.”

            It’s as though they think one wrong move, one wrong word, will kill her again.

            She wonders a little bit if they’re right.

            Her mother is the gentlest she’s ever been brushing Amelia’s hair, her hands careful, her voice filling the air. “And I unpacked some of your nice clothes,” she says, working through a tangle. “You don’t have to wear sweatpants anymore, I found your skirts…”

            Amelia looks down at her loose, comfortable clothes, the t-shirt worn and soft against her skin. She thinks about struggling with buttons on a nice blouse, thinks about whether ruffles will still itch the way they did when she was alive. Thinks about the way the mottled colors on her legs have lasted too long to be called bruises. Maybe she should call it decay.

            Her mother clicks her tongue sadly as a few strands of hair pull loose from her head. “These knots…”

            “What if I cut it?” Amelia asks. She’d been thinking about short hair back when she was alive. And it would be easier. “I can’t make you brush it for me every day.”

            Concern melds with distress on her mother’s face. “You can’t cut it,” she hisses. “What if it never grows back?”

...bright, funny, resilient, the first to volunteer...

            Once, she accidentally sleeps for three days. That’s the kind of thing the living joke about—so tired I could sleep for a week, as impossible as that would actually be. Turns out it’s easy for the dead—easy to lie still, easy to stop pushing, easy to drift away into forgiving darkness.

            She wakes to her mother weeping, her father pacing in the hall, Cole pale and haunted and clenching his phone in two hands. The funeral home’s phone number must be burned into the screen by now, but he hasn’t pressed the call button. Not yet.

            Amelia makes herself sit up in bed, reaches out to him, and sees him flinch.

            Right. Gloves.

            Even as she twists her face into a smile, she knows she's done it wrong. Her eyebrows are at odd angles, her lips curled strangely. She tries for light-hearted: "Whoops, close one! Don't want to wake up in a grave again."

            No one laughs.

...kept forever in our memories and our hearts...

            Late at night, she hears her parents whispering. “Is she all right?” her mother asks. “My little girl, my Amelia—she’s not acting like herself. She’s so tired, so...”

            “She just came back,” her father says. His voice is firm, comforting. Determined not to let any uncertainty slip through. The same voice he’s always used when her mother worries—the same voice he used when Amelia told him her own worries, her doubts about the future, about Cole. She always ended conversations with her father sure that he was right.

            “She’ll be back to herself soon enough,” he says. “We just have to keep her active. Remind her about being alive.”

            “But what if she’s not herself? I know we said not to bring up…” Her mother’s voice drops, furtive. “…the Z word…”

            “We’re keeping an eye on her. We’ll notice if she does anything that needs… intervention.”

            She closes her eyes. Wonders if she can turn off her hearing. Wonders if it would have been easier, staying in her grave.

            The next day, she brings up moving back in with Cole. He says he'd be happy to have her, and she pretends not to notice the look he exchanges with her parents.

…brought out the best in people, always ready to help, to listen…

            Cole is attentive. He brings her pastries from the bakery near their apartment and tells her about his day—work, his hobbies, a dog he saw at the park. Shows her pictures and videos on his phone. Mentions people by name, and she's not sure if they're new, since her death, or if she managed to forget people she knew about before.

            She knows which muscles to move for an understanding nod, an encouraging smile. She knows how to make herself chew and swallow food, how to bring it back up later so it doesn’t just sit and rot in her stomach. She still remembers the right way to ask questions so Cole shares more.

            There’s no real reason not to do it, but the more she thinks about it—the more she imagines forcing her body into the right place, the ordeal she’ll have to go through later—the less she wants to do it. She sits silently, pastries untouched, letting the muscles in her face go slack.

            “Ames? You okay?”

            It takes a second; she has to fill her lungs to respond. She tips one side of her mouth up in what could have been a reassuring smile, once. “Fine. Just tired.”

            He sits next to her, worry pinching between his eyebrows. "Of course. I'm sorry. Let's just sit here and watch TV? There are new episodes of all our favorites."

            The shows all feel distant, the plots blurred, the characters unfamiliar. She watches with him for hours anyway.

...a kind and giving spirit, she wanted to create...

            Shattering the mug isn't intentional. Even if she's started to resent the comforting cups of tea Cole brings her. Even if she's sick of pulling latex gloves over her cloth ones so she can wash the dishes. Even if the cutesy blobs of yellow and pink painted on it have always been too much, too bright, too false-forced-cheer, from the moment she was gifted it eight years ago.

            She still doesn't mean to let go of it, the muscles in her hand (and there are so many muscles in the human hand, so many to keep track of, and most of hers are damaged already) loosening and spasming as she's walking to the sink.

            The jagged pieces of it surround her, and Cole's hysterical babble of questions and assurances—"Are you okay, I've got it, just hold still"—fades into background noise as Amelia leans down to try and gather the shards.

            A hand wraps around her wrist and she turns to meet Cole's wide, frightened eyes. "Amy, your foot."

            A full inch of jagged ceramic is buried in her heel.

            She does not bleed, even after Cole pries it out.

...although she will never fulfill those plans, her dream will live on...

            "Ames, I'm worried." Cole reaches out, stops with his hand just over her thigh. Puts it down on the chair next to her, not touching. "This is... I know you've been through a lot. But you're acting like—"

            She turns her head until she can look at his face. Her neck jerks in the wrong direction a couple of times, but she's getting better at it, faster. "Like?"

            Cole's eyes are red, and can't quite meet hers. "Like..." His shoulders drop. "Not like yourself."

            He waits a beat—two—and gets up, breathing out harshly. "Ever since you came back, Amy. You barely look at me. You barely talk to me. You don't even like doing the things you used to like. I understand about your... condition, but..."        

...pray she rests well, and waits in peace for her loved ones...

            She sits in their apartment—Cole's apartment—long after he's gone, watching the afternoon sunlight shift across the space they used to share. Her books are still on the shelf. She remembers packing up her childhood bookshelf to bring to their new home. The painting she bought at a flea market is still hanging on the wall. She remembers joking with Cole about picking up a masterpiece for two dollars.

            Looking at them now, she doesn't even particularly want to bring them with her.

...invited to celebrate her life at...

            Merely dragging her body across the ground would be easier. But, even though she's wrong, even though she's not the person they think about when they look at her, she's still not a mindless, lurching zombie. Mostly.

            She walks. One step forward.

            Was she ever the person they thought about when they looked at her?

            One step.

            Maybe now she'll find out.

            One step.

...in lieu of flowers, the family asks...

            She settles into her seat on the train, making sure her hands are covered. A new start doesn't mean much if she sends an entire train into a panic.

            Someone sits next to her, bouncing in their seat. "Hey there! Looks like we've got eight hours ahead of us. What's your name?"

            She hesitates. Amelia. Amy. Ames.

"Mel," she says. It's strange in her mouth. Just slightly wrong, the same way she's just slightly wrong. Maybe that’s the right fit.