#because i have no energy for the rest of the day

[amirasainz]

What about Norris reader (17) and Oldie and Kimi Antonelli have a crush on her. Lando, ever the overprotectiv brother, doesn't like this and the other drivers use it to their advantage, because they find this really funny. Reader is just clueless and thinks the boys are really sweet to her♥️♥️

Wait, why do I ship these three??

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo, babygirl 💕

Two for one

The bustling energy of the Mexican Grand Prix electrified the air as Yn Norris wandered around the paddock, wide-eyed with excitement. Her older brother, Lando, had arranged for her to come along this weekend, and she was thrilled to be there. Being just seventeen, this was one of her first big Grand Prix weekends on her own, without her parents or siblings (except Lando) and she couldn't wait to soak it all in.

As she explored the paddock, she suddenly heard her name being called. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Kimi and Ollie, both of whom had driven in Free Practice 1 that day.

"Yn! Fancy running into you here," Ollie greeted with a wide grin.

Kimi smirked, giving her a casual wave. "So, what do you think of Mexico so far?"

Yn smiled brightly. "It’s incredible! I’m so happy Lando invited me."

"Oh, he invited you, did he?" Kimi asked with a sly grin, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Lando to pop out of nowhere.

Yn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but he’s already being overprotective. He thinks I'm going to, like, get lost or something. I just wanted to go look around by myself, but he practically assigned me a bodyguard."

Kimi and Ollie exchanged amused looks. "Well, we’re here now. So, if you need someone to show you around or keep you company, I think we can handle that," Ollie offered.

"Yeah, you’re in good hands, Yn," Kimi added with a wink.

---

A little later, Lando noticed Yn with Kimi and Ollie, and immediately, he felt his older brother senses tingling. He walked up to them with an exaggeratedly casual stride, hands stuffed in his pockets but eyes locked onto Kimi and Ollie.

"Hey, Yn," Lando greeted her, then quickly turned to Kimi and Ollie. "What are you guys up to?"

Ollie raised his hands defensively. "Just chatting with your sister, mate. Nothing serious."

Kimi chimed in, smirking slightly. "Yeah, just giving her some company. It can’t be fun to wander around here alone."

Lando narrowed his eyes. "Well, she’s not alone. I’m here."

Yn rolled her eyes. "Lando, I’m fine. You don’t have to act like I’m five."

"Yeah, Lando, she’s fine," Ollie teased, nudging Lando’s arm. "Besides, it's not like Kimi and I are troublemakers."

Max, who had been watching from nearby, wandered over, grinning as he picked up on the situation. "Oh, looks like little Norris has some admirers."

"Yeah, careful, Lando," Checo joined in, laughing as he walked by. "You know, they say these drivers are charmers. Better keep a close eye on her, or she might run off with them to Yucatan."

Lando scowled, crossing his arms. "That’s not funny, guys."

Ollie looked at Yn, feigning a wistful expression. "Yucatan, huh? That could be fun."

Yn rolled her eyes again, laughing. "Ignore them, Ollie. You’re all acting like children."

Kimi leaned closer to her. "Maybe. But you know, Yucatan does sound like a pretty great idea."

Lando stepped in between them, giving Kimi a warning look. "Don’t even think about it, Antonelli."

Kimi laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness. As much as he enjoyed teasing Lando, he could feel Lando’s big-brother protectiveness radiating off him in waves. Still, he couldn’t resist pushing a little.

"Relax, Lando," Kimi said, holding up his hands. "We’re just here to make sure Yn has a good time."

"Under my supervision," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes. He put an arm around Yn’s shoulder. "You’re staying close to me for the rest of the weekend."

Yn groaned, but Lando’s resolve didn’t waver.

---

The next day, Lando was more determined than ever to keep an eye on his sister. Every time Kimi or Ollie got close, he’d swoop in, leading her away or blocking their paths.

Eventually, Pierre caught onto the whole situation and couldn’t resist chiming in. "You know, Lando, if you keep this up, you’re going to scare away all her potential boyfriends."

Lando shook his head, exasperated. "That’s the plan, Pierre."

Carlos joined the fun, laughing. "Be careful, Lando. Vegas is just around the corner. Blink, and she might end up running off with Kimi or Ollie. Maybe even both."

Ollie, who had overheard, grinned, raising his eyebrows at Yn. "What do you think, Yn? Should we book tickets?"

Yn chuckled. "Oh, please. Lando would probably have a heart attack before we even left the airport."

Lando glared at them. "I’m serious. You two better not get any ideas, you stinky whankers."

Kimi shrugged, but his smirk didn’t fade. "Relax, mate. We’re just keeping her company."

Charles joined the group, looking thoroughly entertained. "I can’t wait for Vegas now. If this is how Lando is in Mexico, Vegas will be legendary. Maybe we’ll all get invited to Yn’s wedding."

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You all are impossible."

---

As the weekend progressed, Kimi and Ollie kept finding small ways to get Yn’s attention. They’d save her a seat, bring her snacks, and keep her laughing with stories and jokes. Each time, Lando was there, watching like a hawk.

At one point, Yn turned to him, exasperated. "Lando, seriously. I’m just hanging out with friends. Can you please relax?"

"I am relaxed," Lando replied, not convincing anyone.

Yn shot him an annoyed look. "You’re practically breathing down my neck."

Ollie leaned in, whispering, "Told you he’s overprotective."

Kimi chuckled. "You’re handling it well, though."

Yn laughed, shaking her head. "I think it’s actually you two who are nervous around him."

Both Ollie and Kimi exchanged guilty looks, though they quickly covered it with their usual confident smiles. But every time Lando was around, they seemed to straighten up a little, wary of his watchful eyes.

---

On race day, things hit a peak. Kimi and Ollie had managed to catch Yn alone, and they were chatting animatedly about everything from their goals in racing to funny stories from the paddock. Yn was laughing, completely unaware of the fact that both boys were subtly vying for her attention.

But it didn’t take long for Lando to find them, and he wasted no time inserting himself into the conversation.

"Hey, Yn, you ready to come to the garage?" he asked pointedly.

Yn glanced at Kimi and Ollie apologetically. "Duty calls, I guess."

Ollie gave Lando a pleading look. "Come on, Lando. Let her hang out with us for a bit longer."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Why, so you two can keep flirting with her?"

Kimi flushed, stammering, "W-We weren’t—"

Yn stared at him in surprise. "Flirting? Seriously, Lando? We’re just friends."

"Exactly," Lando said, taking her by the arm. "And that’s all you’re going to be."

Max and Charles, who had been watching the entire exchange, burst into laughter. Charles clapped Lando on the back. "Relax, Lando. You’re acting like you’re her father."

Max nodded, grinning. "Good luck keeping her under control in Vegas. Don’t be surprised if she elopes with one of them. Or both."

Lando scowled, his grip on Yn’s arm tightening slightly. "Not happening. Not on my watch."

Yn sighed, throwing Kimi and Ollie a helpless look as she was guided away. They exchanged amused, slightly nervous glances, but it was clear that they weren’t about to give up. She blew them a kiss, which both Kimi and Ollie pretended to catch. Ollie put his "kiss" to his heart while Kimi put his on his cheek.

As Yn and Lando walked off, she glanced up at her brother, shaking her head. "You know, if you keep acting like this, no one’s ever going to want to date me."

"That’s the point," Lando muttered under his breath.

Yn laughed. "You’re ridiculous."

"And I’m your older brother," he replied, smirking. "Get used to it."

Behind them, Kimi and Ollie shared a look, nodding in silent agreement. They’d have to work harder to get Yn’s attention without incurring the wrath of overprotective older brother Lando. But they weren’t about to give up. After all, Vegas was coming up soon, and as much as Lando hated to hear it, the weekend held endless possibilities.

[karasbroken]

I am still in escape-from-reality mode, so have an essay on John being smart, I guess?

I loved this photo of the shuttle interior, though of course I can't view it without sparing a few thoughts for the crew who lost their lives for our quest to be free from being trapped in our one, beautiful, complicated, suffering planet.

But what it made me think about next was Farscape, of course. It's so briefly mentioned, and never referred to again, but the Farscape mission was John's third trip to space, minimum. He'd been on two previous space shuttle missions. And they must have been significant and successful roles because he was commander for the Farscape project. So this overwhelming morass of switches and readouts was familiar to him. He could probably name what every control did, what every blinking button meant.

John's ability to adapt so quickly to alien technology doesn't seem so improbable when you consider how much Earth technology he was used to dealing with. He struggled mostly with the stuff that had no labels or details to guide him, like handles that turn unintuitively back and forth instead of up and down, or doors that open by waving the right way at specific unmarked spots. (I feel like PK techs also found the doors of Leviathans baffling because they engineered specific glowy pads for all of Talyn's doors.)

I'm positive that John knew every subsystem on this shuttle. There's a reason they let a guy go up to space in a ship of his own design, and it's not just because he's the son of a famous astronaut. (Good for publicity at a time when the space program was struggling for mind share and funding.) He might use half his brain for pop culture and Aeryn, but the rest of it was more than enough to make John that rare super genius who can put his math and science into practical use building shit. So of course the vast majority of the time we see John being idle, he's taking something apart or putting it back together.

When he goes back home, John claims not to understand how the hetch drive works, "he just installed it", but his friends know that's bullshit. Of course John knows how most of it works, but he doesn't have full grasp of the math and science because he's had to deduce everything from tinkering and an under-trained Pilot without full grasp of the science himself. John is being coy partly to not bias what other scientists can figure out from their own experiments and partly because he doesn't want to get stuck all day every day being interrogated for his knowledge. Kinda been there, done that.

But anyway, this picture made me think things, about Earth tech, and our wonderful, adaptable human in the wilds of constant space magic and a hundred species worth of tech....

(Okay, just one more rant: I'm convinced Aeryn becomes a tech herself at least partially because she hangs out with John a lot, and she hates being idle, so she started messing with tech too.

I can just see him opening something up and asking a lot of questions that irritate her because she has no idea why any of her equipment works and it has never been necessary to know how to fix it, yet the way he asks questions makes her feel ignorant. But then after he pokes around enough to figure out what the red squiggly button does, he shows her and wants her to understand it too. Which she wouldn't be interested in, except she can shut him up faster if she makes him show her how to put it back together, freeing him up to go play with the next thing that catches her eye.

Or he'll go into this rant about how this particular thing is always breaking and should really be redesigned and she tells him she'll fix it, again, just to shut him up.

Because she quietly loves being in his frittery, high energy presence; there's enough John to fill up a squad's worth of space and he helps her feel less lonely on this giant empty tomb of a ship. But she wishes he talked less because she can't not pay attention to him and three quarters of what he says is nonsense. John earnestly messing around with something too intent to even talk is perfect. She'll happily sit there and clean parts or do the tedious soldering if he just limits himself to occasional mutters and "youreekas!", whatever that means.

John, of course, being a super genius, eventually figures out the pretty girl will sit with him all day--really close to him actually, their knees will bump a lot--if he tells her he really needs help assembling backup circuits or whatever. But only if he shows her how to do it once, provides minimal feedback from there, and limits himself to two Earth pop culture references per arn.)

Flight Deck of the Space Shuttle Columbia image credit: Eric Long/Smithsonian Institution                          National Air and Space Museum

[seungcheorry]

"so...", you say, playing with whatever is in front of you.

"so", minghao repeats on the other side of the line, his voice sounding so soft.

"is it time to say bye?"

"it doesn't have to be if you don't want to", he sincerely says.

minghao has been on the phone with you for over 2 hours now. he told you everything about how the soundcheck went, how his members accepted to record this tiktok with him for his birthday, then the show, then the weverse live...

it's clearly too late where he's at. he clearly needs to rest, recharge his energy before going on with the tour. still, he doesn't even think of hanging up - and he hopes you don't too.

"you sure? you must be tired."

"that i am", he confesses. "but i don't mind talking to you. actually i think i only talked about myself, i'm sorry. please tell me how your day went."

"nothing much", and you mean it. "just work, domestic chores, an asshole cutting the line at the grocery store."

"hope i run into him when i get back."

that makes you laugh, as always.

"i hope too."

it's quiet for a bit. minghao likes to listen to you breathing, it soothes him. and as he starts to hum some unknown melody, you realize his mere presence - even though not physically - soothes you too.

"i might not always say this", you begin. "but i love you. very, very much. i hope you're always happy, my myungho."

"ya...", he chuckles. "using the korean name now too?"

you laugh too.

"it suits you."

"you suit me", minghao sighs happily. "i love you too. thank you for being with me."

"i promise i'll be, for as long as you'll have me."

"great. forever it is, then."

a/n: happy birthday, minghao. i truly hope you're always happy and i wish for your life to be even greater than it already is. thanks for welcoming me into this diamond life, i could never regret becoming a carat when i did because of your talent, your beauty, and when it brought me so much joy. i love you, the8. ❤️🐸

[tanoraqui]

VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE!

Find your polling place | Register day-of | Ready your ID | Hassle your boss for legally required time off (varies by state) | Uber and Lyft are both offering discounted rides to your polling place (and some random restaurants are offering random deals, too, I guess?)

WHY VOTE?

The Bean will be disappointed in you if you don’t

Voting for the lesser of two evils DOES reduce the amount of evil. Voting for the lesser of two evils SAVES LIVES.

^ Bernie Sanders gave a really good breakdown of this, actually.

Voting is not a choice of your personal idol, it’s a choice of who you have the best chance of persuading around to your side. It’s public transit—you don’t get exactly where you want to go, but you get close enough to walk, or at least to somewhere you can catch the next bus.

Harris has a genuinely good track record of helping the people she serves, and genuinely good goals for doing it some more as President

Trump’s most repeatedly and explicitly stated goal is to order the armed forces to persecute protestors, immigrants, journalists and his political enemies. He’s even less grounded than last time, very likely suffering dementia, and anyone from his previous administration who once restrained him even slightly is warning people that he’s a fascist who explicitly admires Hitler. Their replacements will be vaccine deniers, climate change deniers and the authors of Project 2025.

Hope alone is an act of defiance. Defiance alone is an act of hope. You WILL feel better if you vote, no matter who wins, because you’ll know you did what you could.

Also for the love of god please vote for House and Senate races, too. The Biden-Harris administration only passed the Infrastructure Reduction Act, “the single largest investment in climate and energy in American history” because they held both House and Senate AND VP Harris to break a Senate tie. Not a single Republican voted for it; all Democrats did.

And more local races, of course! They ALL have real effects!

Once you’ve voted, the Bean will be able to rest easy once more—AND so will Candi!

GO VOTE!

[torque-witch]

Post-election comfort reading

It's only Wednesday, huh?

Well, let's take a breather and pull some cards. What should we be remembering and paying attention to today?

Page of Cups

Communication through art and creativity is the backbone of humanity. It is always needed, and right now we should all be using our energy to channel inspiration and creativity, even if it is dark. Art has always been subversive to an extent, but it is important because it lays out our emotions and thoughts in a way that transcends speaking. Whether it is music, podcasts, paintings, digital art, drawing - focus on something creative to get through the days ahead. Art is always needed.

The Star

This one got me, y'all. "Hope and inspiration after turbulence" feels a bit like a slap in the face, but it does have merit. In order to draw from that well though, we need to put energy back into it too. Align yourselves with your higher self, your spirit, your calling and keep going. What you value does have energy in this world, and the power to lead to healing. Just because the world seeks to poison that well does not mean we have to let it. Share what makes you, you. Be loud and vocal about what and who you love. There is always hope when there is at least one person in your court, even if it is you. Don't give up.

Queen of Pentacles, Reversed

Anxiety is winning today, but that's okay. Just don't let yourself suffer for too long. Achieving victory today was not going to mean that the work was over. Always be looking for opportunity to change your outlook and take those risks. For now though, find your center. Find your support. Build a peaceful environment for you and your comrades by continuing to be the person you want to be. 

Seek Inspiration in Unusual Places

Apparently the key word for today is "inspiration" and it may feel like a challenge today to even think about. But as we move forward, keep continuing to support and commune with the weird, the marginalized, and those in opposition to the mainstream. You can find a home there in times of need. You can find strength in numbers. You can find the inspiration to overcome all that seeks to tear us down. We aren't going anywhere. 

I love you and please stay hydrated, try to eat something and take your meds if you need them. And rest!! We can do the work another day. 

Decks used are Lubanko Tarot and Inquire Within Oracle. 

[dee-writes-anime]

Aches, Pains, and Futures in Soccer with Yuji Itadori

FEATURING Yuji Itadori x Reader

SUMMARY You weren't sure what you were expecting when you decided to have a baby with Yuji, but it definitely wasn't being his kid's punching bag.

CONTENT WARNINGS play fighting, silly banter, baby's first kicks, pregnancy trope, yuji trying (and failing) to be a couch hog :(

AUTHORS NOTE This was really heartwarming to write and I actually had a lot of fun! I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Yuji is my special boy and he deserves all the love.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The golden afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting soft, warm patterns across the living room. You were tucked into the couch, a rare moment of peace settling over you as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. But you could hear the telltale sounds of Yuji’s footsteps coming down the hall, and you braced yourself, knowing he was about to enter with his usual whirlwind energy.

Sure enough, Yuji bounded into the room with that signature bounce in his step, looking like he was just waiting to liven things up. He stopped when he saw you comfortably nestled into your corner of the couch, his hands on his hips as he gave you a mock glare.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I leave for, what, five minutes, and you’ve already stolen my spot?”

“Your spot?” you shot back with a grin. “Yuji, I’ve been here all day. I claimed this spot fair and square.”

He squinted at you, dramatically suspicious, like he was sizing up a fierce opponent. “You’re telling me that my half of the couch was suddenly yours the second I got up? Hmm, pretty fishy.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face as he plopped down beside you. “I mean, if you want the spot so bad, you could just—”

He wiggled in closer, all elbows and knees, not even bothering to give you the chance to finish your sentence as he leaned into you. “Could just… what? Move you over a little?”

You tried to put on a serious face, nudging him with your shoulder. “Yuji, if you wanted to reclaim this side, maybe you should’ve put down a warning sign or something.”

“A warning sign?” he laughed, eyes bright with that mischievous sparkle. “Come on, you know I don’t need warning signs to get what’s mine.”

Your laughter was immediate, filling the room as you swatted him with a throw pillow, which he pretended to dodge. “Oh really? I’d like to see you try! I think you’re underestimating my commitment to this spot.”

His eyes widened in playful shock, and he grabbed a pillow of his own, holding it up like a shield. “I see. So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

And just like that, you were drawn into the gentlest “battle” imaginable. He shifted closer, playfully pretending to push you over as you pushed right back, all while exchanging goofy banter that kept you both laughing. It felt like being kids again, like no one else in the world mattered but the two of you and the laughter echoing through the room.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded after a minute, his cheeks pink from laughter as he dramatically threw his hands up in defeat. “You win. You can have the ‘prime spot,’ but only because I’m feeling generous.”

You gave him a triumphant smirk, snuggling deeper into your claimed cushion, though your victory was short-lived as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer anyway. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” you teased, settling comfortably against him.

He chuckled, resting his chin on top of your head, his arm protectively wrapped around you as if to keep you from slipping away. His other hand found its way to your belly, fingers splaying gently over the small bump. “Well, I mean, you’ve got my kid in there,” he said, his voice softening. “I can’t just not hang out with my favorite people.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest as he shifted to get a better look at you, his expression equal parts adoration and amusement. “Think they know we’re out here bickering over couch space?”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied, glancing down at his hand on your belly. “They’re probably rolling their eyes in there, just waiting to take after their dad and be just as stubborn.”

Yuji grinned, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your belly as he spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Listen, little one, just so you know, your dad’s never been stubborn in his life. That’s a rumor your mom likes to spread.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he went on, murmuring little reassurances to the baby like he was already trying to win them over.

He settled into a calm silence after a while, his hand still resting on your belly, his touch light yet firm. The sun had shifted lower in the sky by now, and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Yuji’s eyes softened as he gazed down at you, a look of wonder lighting up his face.

“What?” you asked, grinning as he stared.

“Nothing, just…” He shrugged, his cheeks tinged pink. “Just thinking about how strong our kid’s gonna be. And hoping they don’t end up stronger than me by age five.”

“Oh, they absolutely will,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “And then you’ll have to get used to having your spot stolen all over again.”

He feigned a look of horror. “You’re saying… I’m not even safe from my own kid?”

You nodded, patting his shoulder as if to console him. “Exactly. Your days of couch domination are numbered.”

“Oh man,” he groaned, leaning back dramatically before pulling you with him, letting you settle comfortably against his chest. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess I better make the most of it now while I can.”

And for a while, you just stayed there, tucked up against him, both of you savoring the warmth of the moment. The peace, the quiet laughter, the shared anticipation—all of it felt like a glimpse into the future you were building together, a future that already felt so perfectly, messily, you.

But suddenly—bam!

The force that jolted through your belly was so surprising, so powerful, that it knocked the breath right out of you. You felt a solid, undeniable thump, like someone had just launched a mini football inside you. Your hand flew to the spot, your eyes going wide as you tried to process what had just happened. It was nothing like the gentle, butterfly-like flutters you’d read about in those pregnancy books. This felt like a full-blown kickboxing practice.

Yuji was immediately alert, straightening up with a look of alarm. “Whoa, what was that?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uh… I think it was…” you stammered, still catching your breath, “the baby?”

For a split second, Yuji looked almost as stunned as you were. And then, as if a switch flipped, his face broke into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “No way! Are you serious?” He practically threw himself onto his knees, hands gently pressing against your belly like he was afraid he’d miss the next move. “Did they really just kick you that hard? Already?”

“Already?” you laughed breathlessly, still reeling from the force of it. “Yuji, that was like a mule kick. I think they were trying to send me flying off the couch.”

Yuji let out a loud, delighted laugh, his eyes shining as he looked up at you, clearly thrilled. “What can I say? They’ve got my genes.” He leaned in closer, his face only inches from your belly now. “Hey there, little champ,” he cooed, sounding every bit the proud dad. “That was an awesome kick. You’re already a total powerhouse!”

“Oh, fantastic,” you teased, still rubbing the spot where you’d felt the impact. “You’re already egging them on?”

He just grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he placed his ear against your belly, as if he could somehow hear what was going on inside. “I’m just saying, they’ve got the makings of a real legend here. They’re strong and feisty! I mean, that was no ordinary baby kick—that was like, pro-level stuff!”

You shook your head, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face as he continued to praise the baby’s newfound strength. “Please, Yuji, they just kicked once. You’re already planning their career path?”

He sat back, feigning deep thought. “Okay, so they’ve got to be an athlete. Martial arts, maybe? Or, ooh, they could go pro in soccer! Or volleyball!”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he leaned in closer again. “I don’t think they’ve declared their career ambitions quite yet, Yuji. I’d be happy if they could keep it down to a gentle nudge next time.”

He gave you a playful, sympathetic smile, rubbing your back as he nodded solemnly. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to them.” He bent down toward your belly, speaking in a gentle but conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, little one, maybe try not to knock the wind out of Mom, okay? I mean, she’s got to catch her breath, too.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the room filled with warmth and lightness as Yuji kept his hand on your belly, eagerly waiting to feel another kick. He was quiet for a moment, and then he looked up at you, his gaze full of wonder, like he still couldn’t believe it was real. “You know, I think they’re just saying ‘hi.’ Like a little ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I’m here!’”

You smiled at him, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “Well, they definitely know how to make an entrance.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckled. “Gotta stand out from day one—that’s my kid, alright.”

Just then, there it was again: another solid, unmistakable kick, and this time Yuji felt it, too. His eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in amazement as he looked between you and your belly. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked completely captivated, as if he’d just witnessed some incredible, once-in-a-lifetime event.

“Yep,” you replied, managing a half-laugh as you recovered from the second blow. “That’s exactly what it felt like last time.”

Yuji shook his head, clearly in awe. “I just… wow. I mean, I knew they’d be strong, but this is something else.” He looked at your belly with absolute adoration, leaning down again to press a gentle kiss against it. “Alright, I get it—you’re here, and you’re awesome.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as he continued to talk to the baby, his voice filled with excitement and pride. He was already so attached, so invested, and seeing him like this—so full of love—made your heart swell.

“So,” he said, looking back up at you with a cheeky grin, “how many more karate chops do you think you can handle?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, pretending to think about it. “If they keep this up, I might have to start wearing some kind of body armor.”

Yuji burst into laughter, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the best protection money can buy.” He leaned back, his arm around your shoulders, and gently squeezed. “But for real, I’m so glad I was here for that. It’s like… they were saying hello to both of us. Like they couldn’t wait to let us know they’re already raring to go.”

You looked up at him, feeling a rush of affection as you saw the pure, unfiltered joy on his face. “I’m glad you were here, too.”

He beamed, squeezing your shoulder again as he leaned down to press a playful kiss to your cheek. “Guess we’d better start training for when they get even stronger. I mean, we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.”

You laughed, snuggling closer to him. “Good thing they’ve got a dad who can keep up.”

Yuji grinned, the pride practically radiating off him. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m ready for this. Bring on the kicks, the chaos… I’m here for all of it.”

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - survivors guilt

⚠︎TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠︎ : school lockdown, school shooting, guns, death, blood, life or death situation, witnessing death, traumatic experience, police involvement, nightmare/night terror, panic attack, use of y/n, detailed descriptions, and more.

⚠︎THIS CONTENT BELOW MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS. VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED. IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING IN THE WARNINGS PLEASE DO NOT READ OR READ AT YOUR OWN RISK⚠︎

Flashback • 3 weeks ago

Sometimes school was something you looked forward to. Not just because of the extra curricular’s you were in or because the school work was enjoyable — it was because of your friends and matt who were able to make the days more bearable even when they were the worst of days.

Today you arrived at school a little early, hoping to get some much needed studying crunched into your already jam packed schedule. While walking up the steps to the school, you spotted Matt near the main entrance with a few of your close friends gathered around him. His blue eyes landing on you, flashing a small smile and giving a playful wave. You quickened your pace, weaving through the students until you joined them.

You took your place next to matt, flashing him a grin. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Matt teased, nudging you with his shoulder as you just rolled your eyes. “I could say the same for you.” you fired back, punching his arm lightly. His mouth opened, holding his arm as he gave you a faked hurt expression.

You smiled, turning your head to look at your friends. “Guess I’m not the only one who had trouble getting up,” you said, glancing around at your friends, who looked equally sleepy. “You guys ready for the most thrilling English class of our lives?” the sarcasm laced your words as you wiggled your brows.

One of your friends groaned. “Only if we get to hear Mr. Klein’s riveting analysis of metaphors again.” they said as their face scrunched up, sticking their tongue out. “I think i’d only be ready if Mr.klein just dropped all lesson plans for the day.” another one of your friends grumbled.

You all shared a tired laugh, your head now resting against matt’s shoulder as you somewhat cuddled his arm. It felt comforting to be surrounded by the people who knew you best, the ones who made every day a little easier. “I was going to get some studying in, but you guys have ruined my plans.” you pouted at matt and your friends, and they all laughed.

“Sorry baby.” matt said as his hand brushed against yours, lacing your fingers together as you started to walk through the front doors, your friends on either side.

As you walked, the usual chatter filled the air—the familiar sound of lockers slamming, friends greeting each other, and the echo of hurried footsteps as everyone rushed to their first class. The energy was calm.

“Think today’s the day we finally get a pop quiz?” Matt asked, giving you a sideways grin. You rolled your eyes — at this point they might get stuck permanently like that. “Oh, please, don’t jinx it,” you laughed, giving him a playful shove.

You all made your way down the hall more, but you quickly stopped at your locker. “Just go to class without me guys! i’ll be there soon.” you said to your friends, but matt had insisted on staying with you. Your hand fiddled with the lock, twisting to all the right numbers before popping open.

“So,” Matt started, shoving a hand into his pocket while the other came to rest up on the lockers. “since you couldn’t cram in your extra studying time this morning, why don’t we study at your place tonight?” he suggests, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

You hummed, grabbing a few books out of your locker before closing the door and securing the lock. “I dunnooo,” you drug out, turning to him as a hand reached out to pinch his side softly. “We’ll have to see if i’m in the mood to study tonight — and if my parents are okay with it.” you stated, head tilting to the side. He nodded in agreement.

The bell echoed through the halls signaling class was about to start. You and Matt both hurried down the hall to class, slipping through the door and sliding into seats beside each other, your few friends already in some seats around you. You were grateful to have them here, grateful that you didn’t have to face another long school day alone. Matt settled beside you, giving you a quick, reassuring smile as the teacher began to start class.

Once the class settled down, Mr.klein started taking attendance, calling out everyone’s name as they all said ‘present’ or ‘here’. “Okay class, today we’re going to start working on some group writing projects…” he started to explain some writing project but your attention was only half on him and more focused on Matt.

“I hate writing projects.” matt complains with a groan as his head tipped back before coming forward again and leaning toward you. Your eyes squinted, glaring at him. “Matt, babe — i’m always your partner for this shit cause you hate it.” you deadpanned, reaching your hand over to flick his arm.

He pouted, faking his sadness as he just grabbed his arm where you flicked him, you giggled before your attention shifted back to Mr.klein, listening to the instructions and taking down notes. Once he was finished explaining, you partnered up with matt, his desk moving flush to yours as you laid the plans out in front of you.

Class had been in session for about an hour now — yet you and matt couldn’t agree on a topic to write on. This always happened, he writing ideas were — okay, but this wasn’t supposed to be a goofy project. It was supposed to me serious and thought out.

You shook your head at another one of his statements. “No — no we should write about something that’ll resonate with people, not make them bored.” you argued, trying to explain to matt that writing about random shit wasn’t the way to go.

He opened his mouth, an argument right on the tip of his tongue — but was quickly cut off with the loud blaring of the intercom coming on, red lights already flashing brightly.

“Lockdown condition three, Lockdown condition three — lock doors, close blinds, barricade doors, turn off lights, take shelter.” the speakers blared, reds lights flashing and illuminating the whole room as they blinked.

You flinched, the loud sound being something you weren’t expecting. Your head turned to matt, a puzzled look on your face. “What is going on?” you asked, and all he did was shrug. You sat there listening to the speakers until another warning line was delivered.

“This is not a drill — I repeat — This is not a drill. lock doors, close blinds, barricade doors, turn off lights, take shelter.”

Your face paled, momentarily freezing as the realization hit you — that this wasn’t a drill. You sat there for a few moments, not registering that matt was trying to get you up. “babe — c’mon we have to help barricade the door-“ his words snapped you out of your daze and you nodded, shooting up your from your seat to close blinds and move things in front of the door.

The room was loud as furniture was moved and scrapped across the floor — you were frantic, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

You put anything you could — desks, chairs, things that would keep the door closed and unavailable to get through. Matt was right there helping, along with your friends and classmates to get the job done as fast as possible.

Quickly everyone took cover in a far corner of the room, hidden away from sight from any door or window. Your body clung tightly to matt’s as the speakers repeated their warnings. Some students asking in hushed voices about what was going on.

Mr.klein hushed everyone, telling them he wasn’t sure and would let them know when he knew more information. Some students started to cry, texting families and some trying to be strong. Your friends were in the front of the group, quickly looking back at you as they all gave you small smiles of reassurance.

Everything was so piercingly quiet except for the light murmurs of classmates talking and the loud warning blaring from the speakers. Your head turned to matt as you leaned into him, “Do you think we’ll be okay?” you asked quietly. Matt just took a deep breath, “I hope so baby…i hope so.” was all he said.

You weren’t sure how long you were sitting crammed in the corner for with matt and everyone else — all there was, was this persistent ache in your legs from being curled up so tightly. It was still quiet, nothing had happened yet and Mr.klein still hadn’t said a word.

Suddenly, screams rang out through the halls outside the door, the unmistakable sound of gun shots being fired following the shrieks. Your whole body went ridged, flinching as your fists clutched matt so tight you thought you might break him. Your heart was pounding wildly — the pounding in your ears as the sounds got closer and closer.

The distant sound of sirens outside could be heard — but they weren’t close enough. You could hear the sound of fists banging on doors and walls outside before suddenly a loud bang was heard on your classroom door, the items piled toppling over as whoever was out there tried to force their way through.

Your classmates panicked, mumbling quietly out of fear. The teacher shushed everyone — bodies huddling closely together as the bangs continued. The door should hold, surely you piled so much stuff in front of it — but you were wrong.

Surely this isn’t how your life ends? You thought maybe this would never happen to your school — how selfish of yourself to think.

The loud banging continued — whoever was there was persistent on getting in here. You clutched to matt even tighter, tears now clouding your vision as you tried your best to stay calm. Matt’s hand rubbing your back in an attempt to ground you.

Then the door busts open and — everything happened so fast you weren’t sure how to react. Loud gun shots rang out — classmates piercing screams were loud as your eyes darted around until they landed on your friends. Time felt like it froze, switching to slow motion — watching as bullets were shot at them.

That was the last thing you saw before you were dragged down to lay on the floor. The bullets hitting other classmates — their blood splattering all over you as the shooter just fired shot after shot.

You were mortified, silent sobs leaving your mouth as matt’s hand covered it to keep you as silent as possible. Their limp dead bodies laid over you — covering you from the shooters eyes.

The sight of those bullets piercing their bodies — their faces, were permanently burned into your skull. The blood that spilled out, covering your body from near by classmates made you sick to your stomach.

The sound of heavy foot steps echoed the hallway, multiple bodies bursting in through the door as they shouted — police — but they were too fucking late.

Your ears were ringing, you couldn’t focus on a single thing. The only thing you could focus on was the faces of those you saw die — the blood covered faces of your dead friends. The police were still shouting around you, telling the shooter to drop his gun and surrender — another fire of a gun sounded before multiple others joined.

It felt like you were on the floor for hours before an officer came over to check on those who survived — that being you, matt and a few other people. Matt shuffled, trying to pull you up off the ground with him after the police moved those who were deceased off of you.

“y/n — sweetheart we need to go, we need to listen to the police.” he said softly, trying to get your focus on him. But you couldn’t, all your eyes were looking at still were your friends — you could have saved them, why didn’t you fucking save them?

You just stood there, eyes blankly staring at the ground where they were laying — your friends were laying. And if your mind wasn’t so focused on them, you would’ve seen the killers own dead body laying not far from you. But you weren’t — it wasn’t possible when you felt so ashamed, so — upset with yourself.

All you did was watch — you were the last thing they saw.

Your feet moved eventually, carrying you out the classroom and into the hallways as matt guided you. Even there your eyes couldn’t tear away from those who were dead — blood pouring out of their bodies, and splattered on the white walls of the school. You didn’t know what to feel — didn’t know how to feel, you still weren’t fully there.

You made it to the front entrance of the school, pushing the doors open — the blinding light of the outside world burned your retinas, or — at least that’s what it was supposed to feel like, but it didn’t.

When you were outside, families were waiting — multiple parents crying and scared, hoping and waiting for their babies to come out to them. Your own family was there, taking you into their embrace when you were finally able to see them. You wouldn’t let matt leave your side — you couldn’t. What if something happened to him too?

When you got home — still covered in blood, you immediately went to take a shower. The water was boiling hot, steam filling the bathroom as you rid yourself of your clothes. When you stepped into the tub, you took your loofa, pour ounce after ounce of soap on it.

Scrubbing your body over and over and over again until your skin had turned raw and red. Your own blood visible from how viscous you scrubbed yourself. From how desperate you wanted to be clean — to rid yourself of that burning memory in your skull.

You don’t know how many times you scrubbed yourself that night — loosing track until it hurt to scrub yourself any further, your hand eventually dropping the loofa as your body slowly slid down to sit under the shower head on the floor. You tucked in on yourself, curling up as your mind plummeted.

It should’ve have been you instead.

-

Present Time

The masked man pointed the gun directly at matt as his body stood between you and the killer, sacrificing himself to keep you safe. The man only laughed, moving it to point the barrel of the gun toward matt’s temple as he pulled the trigger. The loud ringing of a bullet firing ricocheted through your skull, making your vision unfocus.

When you came to — time had seemed to slow down. Matt’s eye’s widened, his body slowly falling to the ground.

You screamed as you watched matt’s body drop to the floor — blood pouring out of him as that same killer stood in front of you and your classmates. Your body trembling as your tried to wake him up, thinking it was just a dream before your eyes looked at the killer, the last thing you saw was his finger pulling the trigger at your head before everything went black.

You tossed and turned in your bed — and if anyone were to walk in right now, they’d see the discomfort etched into your face. Quickly your eyes shoot up, body shooting up in bed as a scream ripped past your throat, sweat covering your body as your fists clutched the sheets to your bed.

A door swung open outside before footsteps quickly pattered across the hallway, your door swinging open — matt rushing in to check on you after the blood curdling scream you let slip. His feet taking quick strides over to your bedside.

“y/n — y/n!!” matt said, grabbing your shoulders as he pulled you into a hug, his body lowering to the bed as he held your body tightly. Your limbs thrashed around in his embrace, screaming and kicking as the nightmare still clung freshly to your mind.

“N-no!! let go — let go!!” you screeched, your hands coming up to claw at him — but they were uncoordinated, not landing on him once as your mind continued to panic.

These — nightmares…night terrors — started happening ever since the shooting, most of your nights were sleepless as memories plagued every corner of your being. Matt hadn’t left your side since — seeing how much it had left you shaken, your family nice enough to let him stay in the guest room across from your room.

Matt just held you, squeezing his arms tightly in an attempt to keep you safe from yourself until your body tired itself out, holding you close and whispering comforting words into your ear. “It’s okay baby, i’m here i’m not going anywhere.” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to your head as you shook.

You stopped thrashing your limbs, nails now digging into matt’s arms, leaving crescent shapes in the flesh. You sobbed, sucking in sharp breaths as you tried to speak.

“Y-you were gone — you d-died, he killed you. h-he killed me!” you choked out, fists now moving to grip his shirt tightly. “There w-was blood everywhere.” you cried, hot tears were running down your face as your breathing became more ragged and choppy.

The nightmares had gotten worse after you attended the funerals of the friends you lost — the services making everything feel too real, making you realize you actually lost them. It was too many someone as young as you should have to ever attended.

It’s your fault they’re gone.

Your breathing began to quicken more, your face hot and wet as your mind continued to spiral out of control. Your fists held him tighter, zoning out as you began to feel sick to your stomach.

Your chest felt tight — eyes frenzied and darting around. It felt like you were drowning, your tears falling harder now as you tried to regain control of yourself. You tried to speak — but all that came out were pained whimpers and sobs, your breath catching in your throat.

“y/n, i need you to focus on me baby, it’s okay.” matt whispered, pulling you into his chest, your head resting against his heart. “Listen to the sound of my heart love, focus on my breathing. I’ve got you, everything’s okay.” he continued, rubbing circles on your back as he rocked you back and fourth.

You strained to listen through your own heartbeat in your ears, rapidly pounding against your skull. It felt as though you would pass out any moment from lack of proper oxygen — but you tried, feeling the rise and fall of matt’s chest pressed against your ear and the side of your face.

Matt noticed your strained efforts, weakly smiling to himself as he looked down at you.

“That’s it baby, doing so good.” he cooed, continuing to rub your back as your breathing slowed down, your tears flowing less now. He could feel the rapid beating of your heart, it felt like it would jump out of your body if you weren’t careful. Your panic slowly subsided, exhaustedly melting into matt’s body.

Your breathing was still ragged, nose stuff from how hard you were crying — you had to breath through your mouth. 

He let out a long breath, calming his own nerves. He never knew how you would be after a nightmare or night terror — sometimes you were okay after a moment of him holding you, other times it was like this. Needing to calm your panicking mind in order to fall asleep again. It drained him — but you needed him, he wasn’t going to let you do this on your own.

When you pulled away from his chest, your eyes were red and puffy and tired, body still shaking from all the emotions coursing through your veins. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding from how hard you were crying. Your hands let go of matt’s shirt, coming up to rub at your eyes and head.

“m’so sorry matt,” you started, voice cracking slightly. “didn’t mean to w-wake you again.” your voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible if matt wasn’t listening to intently.

He just shook his head, a hand coming up to wipe away some stray tears you hadn’t realized were running down your face. “Don’t ever apologize, this is something you’re dealing with — a traumatic experience you’re dealing with.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You shook your head, “I-I couldn’t save them matt.” you mumbled, sniffling. “they were right there and i couldn’t do anything to save them — i should’ve done something, what kind of friend am i?” you rambled. “F-fuck i couldn’t even save you.”

What if you cant ever save him?

Matt frowned, pulling you onto his lap as he situated himself in your bed. “It’s not your fault baby — it’s not your fault they aren’t here anymore, it’s the horrible person who decided to do what he did.” he whispered to you, holding you closely. His hand raked through your hair, tucking your head under his chin as he just continued to hold you.

You always thought about them — about how that day could have been different if you had just tried to do something to save those people you held close to you. But, the damage was done and here you were — wishing it was you and that they could still be here — you weren’t fast enough for them.

Eventually, matt got you calmed down enough to try and get more sleep, laying down in your bed and tucking you into his side as he encouraged you to try and sleep. “I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning baby, i promise.” he reassured, holding you tighter — like you might just disappear somehow.

You listened, letting the exhaustion from crying and not enough sleep, pull you into unconsciousness for the night again.

When you had woken up in the morning, matt was right there next to you just like he said he would be. You smiled weakly to yourself — slowly pulling the covers back and moving out of your bed to head downstairs where you’re sure your parents would be at.

Before leaving your room, you looked in the mirror. You looked awful — dark circles under your eyes and your eyes red. Your hair was a mess and your clothes looked disheveled. You weren’t a pretty sight to see.

You walked out your bedroom door, feet softly pattering down the stairs and into the kitchen where you could hear your parents talking. Your ears picked up on a few pieces of their conversation, even though you know you probably shouldn’t be listening.

As you arrived in the kitchen, your parents attention was shifted to you — their eyes taking in your appearance. A look of worry crossed their features, but they didn’t say anything. After a moment, your mom was the first to speak. “Are you doing okay honey? we heard you last night…i’m still so sorry you’re going through this sweetie.” she said softly, gently walking toward you to wrap you in her embrace.

She pulled back, briefly looking into your eyes before she started to speak again. “So…we know your school has been closed for the last few weeks because of what happened,” she started, and somehow you didn’t like where this was going. “but — we just got news they’re reopening tomorrow for students to go back.” she said. Your face dropped at the words, eyes darting over to your dads before looking back at your mom.

Your head shook, “W-what? no…no! y-you expect me to go back there after — after what h-happened??” you quickly said, your body pulling out of your mothers embrace, the panic rising in your body at just the thought of returning to the same place that you saw your best friends be murdered at. Your parents just looked at you sympathetically, their eyes softening.

“We promise it’ll be okay y/n…nothing will happen again, you’ll be safe.” your dad stated, hoping that somehow his words would help calm you down. But all it did was make you feel worse — what if it’s me and matt next?

“y-you guys can’t make me!” you wailed, quickly turning away. You could hear your parents calling your name and trying to speak as you sped toward the stairs and darted back up into your room as you closed the door behind you.

Your back was pressed against your door, palms flat against the wood, your eyes closed as you tried to keep yourself calm. When you opened your eyes again, Matt was already sitting up in bed, his face twisting with worry as he saw your state.

“y/n? what’s wrong baby.” he asked, opening his arms up for you to slid into, which you did. Striding over to the bed and Sitting down, you leaned into him — his presence calming you slightly. “They want me to go back,” you started, voice straining as you held back your tears. “back to where my friends died — i can’t go back. i won’t.” you say, shaking your head as you spoke.

Matt’s face softened more, “you don’t have to go back baby, not until you’re ready — even if that takes a while.” he said, tugging you closer. You let out a sigh, trying to turn your head to look up at him.

“I will never be ready to face that place again. Not when all I can see are their faces and their blood whenever i close my eyes. They were right there, and I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

© strnilolover

a/n : part 2 to this will be posted after NNN is over <3

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[simplynims]

Polycule D.A.M.N Crew Headcanons

Was going through @polydamnory posts for the D.A.M.N polycule and it's inspired me to write down some of my own headcanons for these guys. Enjoy!

Dear and Damien are both the chefs of the polycule, Dear is probably the most trusted person to cook in Damiens kitchen unsupervised.

Huxely likes giving extra hugs to his partners whenever they're stressed out about something but it's really just an excuse to pick them up and drag them away from their laptop/whatever they're working on so they can get some proper rest. Has done this on both Damien and Freelancer when they both desperately needed a break from cram studying especially if the usual pleads to take a break don't intially work.

Dear has magic hands where whenever they run their fingers through their partners hair, they all melt at their touch. They turn to pudding as soon as those head rubs happen. They've actually helped a lot with migraines that Freelancer and Damien have.

Gavin, Freelancer and Dear have competitions sometimes to see who can fluster Lasko up more in one day. They all think he's adorable when he's choking on his words and trying to come up with a coherent sentence after mercilessly being teased. So far Gavin and Dear are neck in neck with these challenges.

Speaking of Gavin and Dear, Dear I feel like is someone who doesn't get flustered often which Gavin sees as a personal challenge to fluster them up whenever he gets the chance. Dear finds Gavin very cute whenever he tries to and flirts right back with that same energy.

This is more of a personal headcanon but from tallest to shortest it's Huxely, Dear, Gavin, Damien, Freelancer, and Lasko.

Lasko manages to get everyone into DnD and the polycule tries their best to schedule at least one session a month depending on their own schedules. Lasko usually DMs but Dear also DMs so Lasko can have a chance to play too. Gavin and Freelancer both shamelessly flirt with the DM no matter who it is and whenever it's Lasko it usually throws him off for a good minute or so.

Lasko gets cold very easily so he usually goes to Damien for cuddles when he's feeling extra frosty. Damien doesn't mind and likes having Lasko in his lap while he works if it keeps him warm.

Following up with that headcanon, Damien gets Lasko a shit ton of warm clothes, blankets and socks so he can wear em around the house around fall and winter because of how easily Lasko gets cold.

Freelancer smacks all their partners asses equally and with accurate precision.

Huxely I feel like would be a really good gardener for vegetables and fruits, Dear helps him with growing them. Every few months when certain fruits are in season, they bring em back to share with the polycule and make desserts outta them. Dear makes some killer peach cobbler, apple pies, strawberry pastries etc outta them and there's usually nothing left by the end of the week.

Gavin likes to playfully push Damiens buttons. Right when Damien looks like he's about to blow, Gavin kisses him and it gets to Damien every time lol. Gavin finds it highly amusing.

Freelancer likes giving gentle love bites to all their partners, it's not sexual all the time but whenever they're cuddling one of em or hugging them they have specific spots they like to go for.

For example, Freelancer likes giving love bites on Huxelys and Dears chests. For Damien it's his arms and chests if he's the bigger spoon while cuddling. For Gavin and Lasko it's their necks or arms, whichever is more accessible at the moment.

Dear most of the time is really good at hiding their emotions whenever they're stressed about something or just feeling sad in general but Huxely can pick up the signs pretty quickly. When it comes to his partners he's very observant and can tell when somethings off with any one of them and that includes Dear. Cuddling sometimes turns into a good cry sesh depending on how severe whatever is affecting Dear is.

Freelancer I headcanon as a little bit of a goofball and loves making their partners laugh, it's a wonderful feeling to see nearly all of the polycule wheezing and laughing at their stupid lil jokes and they take heavy pride in it.

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin) (Wren belongs to @fungal--wastes)

(You were looking out the window of your room down to the small courtyard next to the inn. Ramos, Isabeau, Vixul, and Mirabelle had all teamed up to do some training together. It was amazing to watch them all work. They'd paired up to practice with each others weapons. Mirabelle and Vixul, Isabeau and Ramos.)

(Isabeau you knew, big defender that he is. It was hard to take your eyes from him, with how he moved, how he was able to take hits like brick, with how he was smiling the whole time. So confident, strong, he didn't even need a weapon.)

(Ramos you were still learning, but they were fast and strong, like a middle ground between you and Isa. They could get in fast, hurt hard, then stand their ground. Tonfas suited them. The vest and bandana made sense too, like some, cool bandit look, or. . . You shake your head.)

(Mirabelle had been working to get better ever since your fight with Perci. She was always quick on her feet, and was able to sting. She often reacted to things far before her more ration brain caught up; which lead to many accidental bruises.)

(And Vixul, she was fast too, and nimble. She used a spear and knew how to get in and get out quickly. Although, she eventually swapped from spear to a pair of. . . What looked like gauntlets with armor that extended up the forarms. She fought differently, now, more defensive. You'll have to think about that.)

(There's a knock on the door. You sigh, and get up. You're supposed to be resting, but you couldn't sleep. Maybe it was Bonnie coming to nag you about rest again. You go over and open the door.)

". . . Afternoon, Siffrin." (Wren was standing at the door, expression unchanging, as usual.) "May I come in?"

"Uh. . ." (Well this is a surprise.) "Sure?"

"Thank you."

(You turn, walk to your bed, and sit down.) "Haha, sorry it's a mess, don't exactly have the energy to-"

(You were cut off by Wren closing the door, and locking it.)

(You continue.) ". . . Toooo clean up the place, y'know?

"Quite." (He walked over to the small table and chair the room had and placed his book on the table.) "Can we just skip past the small talk, Siffrin?"

". . ." (Oh this was turning from worrying to potentially dangerous. Where did you put your dagger again?) "Uuuuh, oookaaay?"

"Good." (He tilts his head slightly to you, his eyes stabbing directly into your soul.) "You made a wish to be able to turn back time, no? And it was most likely made when you were about to face the King?"

(You can't cover your shock fast enough. He smiles, and continues.) "It was, wasn't it?"

". . . . . H-how-"

"You knew exactly where to find our antagonists. You know things you shouldn't about myself and my companions. You knew Polaris was effected by mind craft before I or Vixul did and exactly what to do about it. And you had a level of craft exhaustion that should have by all rights killed you."

(He continues.) "What's more, I did some digging. Did you hear news of that strange sadness in Jouvente? It was at the same time you saviors were all visiting. I overheard that you and Ramos used to be enemies, Ramos can use mind craft, and that you had craft exhaustion back then, too."

"But, that's-"

(He cuts you off.) "Do you know how many traps are in the that House of Change? Or about how overrun by sadness it was? And from what I hear you ran through it all by yourself. And should I even mention the rumors of a shade stained sky?"

". . ."

"And." (He turns to face you fully.) "I listened in on your 'Former Saviors of Vaugarde' team meeting."

(. . . . . . . . What.)

(Wren just walked into your room and tore down your veil of secrets with one swing. He tore it down, ripped it to shreds, and tossed the remains in a fire. You couldn't be mad, confused, or scared; that would come later. Because right now you were just impressed.)

(You fall back on the bed.) ". . . Yeah. It was the day before we fought the King, too."

"Close, then. And everything else?"

"Dead on." (You sigh.) "I spent 20-odd loops in Jouvente trying to deal with Ramos."

"And here?"

"23? 24? Most of those happened in quick succession. That's what really causes the craft exhaustion." (You rub your head.) "It's like, the body needs to recharge, or, something."

"And when you fought the King?"

". . . . 176." (You sit up again.) "Repeating the same two days over, and over, and over again, for almost a year."

". . ." (You look up, Wren was writing in his book.) ". . . Don't worry, this stays between us."

"It had better." (You look away.) ". . . How do you know about wish craft, anyway."

"I learned about it when traveling with Vixul and Polaris."

(A lie.) "No you didn't."

". . . No, I didn't." (He sighs.) "It doesn't matter. What did you wish for?"

"I think it does matter, Wren." (You cross your arms.) "Wish craft isn't just, something you can pick up any regular old book on and learn about. At least not without a big headache."

(Wren was staring at the pages of his book, like he was burning the pages with his mind.) ". . . . What. Did. You. Wish. For."

". . . Wren-?"

"How did you do it." (He cuts you off again, pen pressed to the page.) "What method did you use?"

"I'm not-"

"How far back can you go?" (His voice wavers.) "How. Far."

"W-wren-"

(His pen snaps in two. There's a silence.)

". . . . . . . ."

". . . . . . . ." (You tuck your legs under your cloak, and look away.)

". . . . . . . I need to know." (He didn't look at you.) "Please."

". . . I, Wren. . . I, I can't tell you. I-it's complicated-"

"I have all day, Siffrin." (His expression, you knew that expression.)

(It's the expression of someone trying with all their might to hold back tears. You knew that expression, because you had seen a picture of yourself with that same expression dozens of times.)

(Okay, you breathe in, and out.) "I can't tell you, because, because it put me through hell. And, and I don't want that to happen to you."

"Try me."

(Is this guy serious?) "Didn't you hear me?!? 176 loops, 352 days, all trying to escape a nightmare where nothing ever changed!!!" (You look away again.) "Whatever you're thinking, it, are, you sure it's worth-"

"I'd loop 300 times." (There's not even a second of hesitation.) "No, I'd do 500. 1,000. Maybe even more. It would be worth it."

(You snap back to him.) "I- you don't, really believe-"

"I do." (His voice is steady.) "I mean every single word, Siffrin."

(. . . . Oh.)

". . ." (He wasn't just serious, he was determined, desperate, begging. There, there was no way out of this was there. J-just, just, keep talking.) ". . . . What's worth it, Wren."

(There is a very, very long silence.)

". . . . . . . . His name was Icarus."

(It's as if you could hear a pin drop.)

(He continued.) "He, he was someone very important to me. . . No, not that. He was the only thing important to me. Every day I would get out of bed because of him. I would endure the world because of him. I would look forward to the nights because of him."

"I would have given him the world, if he asked." (His voice cracks. You see a tear on his cheek.) "If it, if it wasn't for him I would have taken a knife to my throat a long, long time ago."

". . . ." (You had to ask.) "What happened?"

". . . . I, I-I don't know." (He hangs his head down.) "He, h-he's dead, or dying, or somewhere in between it's, I, I can't explain it. And I don't know if I can save him, or if it's too late or if I never could and I'm just wasting my time but I have to try!"

"I have to try."

"I have to try."

". . . . . ."

"Because if I don't try, then he's, he's. . ."

". . . . . . . . . . . ."

(. . . . How could you even respond to that. You couldn't look. It would just, just make you start crying as well.)

[. . . Stardust?]

(Loop? Where have you been-)

[Let me talk to him.]

(. . . O-okay. You close your eye and lean back. You breathe in. . . .)

[. . . .]

[. . . And out. . . . You hold your head in your hand, dizzy. Really dizzy. You wait a second for it to pass, then talk.] ". . . Wren?"

"Siffrin?" (He responds.)

"Close, but no~"

"Right." (He looks at you slightly, eyes dark from tears.) ". . . Loop? Is that the name?"

"Bingo." [You respond, you want to joke around, but your heart isn't in it.]

". . ." [He turns back to the book.] "Here to talk to me?"

"Yes yes, I am." [You roll your eye. You hop back fully on the bed and lay down.] "I'm here to tell you how to make a wish!"

[He looked up suspiciously.] ". . . You are?"

"Yes~" [You put a finger to your chin.] "I'm going to tell you. And I'm going to tell you aaaaaall the details that Siffrin left out~ You're lucky, you know. Not even our good companions know this, so you had better not tell them."

". . . My lips are sealed."

"Good!" [You pause for a second, smiling. Where you really about to tell a stranger this? Yes, you were. What better a place to hide secrets than in another desperate traveler.]

"I made a wish the day before we fought the King to stay with my family. I didn't know that was my wish, just how I did it. I took a leaf that represented me, and whispered my wish into it three times, closed it, and tied it to the tree. And all of a sudden I was in a time loop! And no~ This is very differen't than Stardust- Siffrins experience."

"I had no-one. I was alone in trying to escape it. I was stuck. I battled my way through that house hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times." [You continue to smile. Fake. (You knew how to smile. You knew how to fake it.)] "I beat the King. Once."

[(That Desperate one is looking at you, no doubt his mind at work. He was trying to decypher you. He was trying to tell just what was going on with that messed up little head of yours. Oh he was so, SO clever wasn't he!!)]

[(You continue.)] "One time. Once. Out of thousands, and it cost everything. And even after all that, I was still forced back to try it aaaaaall over again~"

"So I gave up! I gave it all up! I cried, pleaded, begged to the Universe for someone ANYONE to help! And do you know what the Universe did? It gave me exactly what I wished for."

[(Your smile wasn't normal.)] "Next thing I knew I woke up at the foot of that favor tree, a new lightless body of stars and a head as bright as the sun. I was unrecognisiable. Not even to myself~"

[(The Desperates eyes widen, you grinn.)] "Figured it out, haven't you~?"

[(There's a pause, he looks you over, your demeanor, your voice, evereything.)] ". . . You're not a normal alter. You are Siffrin."

"Correct~ Aaaand~?"

". . . You, became a sort of guide, for, a new Siffrin?"

"Correct!!" [(You clap your hands together.)] "Stardust didn't recognise me, no one recognised me. I had a lovely new job as the stagehand for my wonderful replacement actor! Forced to guide him untill the very end~ Oh and I do mean forced. I had to teach them how to kill themself because they asked."

"And now as one last cruel joke, with it all over, the Universe took me and stuck me in their blinding body. Forced to watch their happy ending."

"So! Wren, does that sound worth it to you?"

[There is a long, long, long silence. So long that the sound of your friends sparing outside stopped as they finished. You eventually hear Wren let out a breath.]

[He taps a finger on his book and talked quietly.] ". . . You make. . . A compelling argument, but. . ."

"Buuuuuuut~?"

". . . . ." [There was hesitation.] "I, I can't falter now."

[In too deep.]

". . . I understand." [You stand up.] "That's why I'm going to tell you how."

[You walk over to Wren and drag a chair over to sit next to him, you got a new pen, and you got to work.]

[You tell him about wishes, you tell him about home, and how you repeated wishes three, six, seven, or thirteen times. You told him about how whatever you wished for, you had to believe it. And what you wish for might not be what you think you're wishing for.]

[And you warn him every step of the way.]

[It was like you were writing a script. If one thing was out of place, out of line, then the whole play would collapse. You couldn't stop him, you knew that, but this was the next best thing.]

". . . And one last thing."

"Hmm?" [Wren was finishing writing the last of his notes.]

". . . If you decide to go through with this." [You look away.] ". . . Tell those close to you, about everything."

[He pauses, and glances up.]

[You continue.] ". . . It would have, saved me a lot of time."

[He looks at you a moment, then he lets his face relax and smile just a little.] "I promise."

"Thank you." [You get up and stretch.] "If you're looking for more information, go to the Dormont House of Change."

"I imagine you are very familiar?"

"Down to the brick~" [You collapse face down onto the bed.] "Now get out of here, I'm tired."

"Well since you asked so nicely." [He gathers his things, pauses a moment, and goes to leave.]

". . . Wren."

[He pauses.] ". . . Yes?"

". . . . ." [You turn your face away.] "Please, don't make the same mistakes I did."

[There's a pause.] ". . . I'll, do my best. Thank you, Loop."

"Save it." [You hold up a finger.] "Save it for when, for when you don't end up like me."

[honeyjars-sims]

3.35 Sticky Situation

It’s the second day of our camping trip and I’m realizing that even when she’s on vacation, Lucy is still in work mode. With the spotty cell service on the mountain, she’s not able to do any actual work so she’s channeling all of her energy into making sure things run smoothly on the trip.

She was up before the rest of us this morning cleaning up our mess from the night before and now that everyone’s awake, she’s been looking for things to do. “We should gather more firewood,” she says.

“We have all day to do that,” I tell her. “Just relax. This is a vacation, remember?”

“I know, but I can’t relax when there are things that need to be done. I always get like this when I’m…on vacation.” I have a feeling there’s more going on but before I can ask her about it, Paul jumps in.

“Well, if you can’t relax until things are done, then at least let someone else do it,” he insists. He turns to me. “John and I can gather up some firewood while you get in some relaxation.”

I start to protest the suggestion–I always hate it when I get roped into hard labor just because I’m a guy–but Lucy looks so relieved that I decide to let it go. “Yeah, we’ll take care of it,” I say instead, and Paul and I head off into the woods.

We barely make it a few feet before Paul starts droning on about how you want to make sure you get the right type of wood, and you have to make sure the pieces you pick aren’t too wet, and blah, blah, blah. “Yeah, yeah,” I cut in. “If I have to do this, then I’m gonna do it my way.”

“Oh? What’s your way? If you have any insights, I’m happy to hear them.”

“It’s pretty simple. Is this wood? If yes, then I pick it up.”

“Hmm, ok,” he says, sounding uncertain. “I suppose we’ll see how that goes tonight.” 

“I guess we will.”

“You’re kind of competitive aren’t you?” he asks.

I feel my face growing hot, remembering how I tried–and failed–to show him up on our last hiking trip. “Uh, not really,” I mutter.

“Oh, so, it’s just with me then?” His words would sound confrontational if not for the softness of his tone. He seems more curious than argumentative.

“Look, I’m sorry about all of that. I was just feeling a little insecure with all of the attention you were getting from the girls. I’m trying to be more mature about it, though.”

“Ahh, the girls,” he replies. “That’s what that was about. I don’t see what you’re so insecure about, though.”

“Well, I mean, you’re going to be a doctor, and you’re more athletic than I am.” Spelling out my insecurities isn’t exactly making me feel better about them. 

Paul shrugs. “I don’t even start med school until the fall,” he counters. “Besides, you had everyone laughing and that’s something I’ve never been good at. In fact, I’m famous in my family for telling the worst jokes.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, excited for an opportunity to pass on some advice about something I’m good at. “In my opinion, the main thing people get wrong about comedy is that they try too hard to be funny instead of just finding opportunities naturally.”

“You think so? Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.”

“It could be. Go ahead, just say what comes to mind without thinking too much about whether or not it’s funny.”

“Uh, ok, what’s brown and sticky?” he asks.

“I don’t know, what is it?”

“A stick!”

This is not a good joke. Like objectively it’s not, but he has this huge grin on his face like he’s standing on stage at a sold out comedy show, and I can’t help but laugh with him. Not in a mean way; he’s so pleased with himself that it’s kind of endearing. “It was good?” he asks eagerly.

“Well…” I choose my words carefully. “Maybe the joke wasn’t the best, but I think you have the right attitude. I’m sure if you start looking out for the humor in different situations then it’ll start coming naturally to you.”

“Ok, well, thanks for the feedback.”

“No problem. We should probably start gathering up that wood. What did you say we should look for again?”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[coochellati]

Living With Bruno - Headcanons

Hi guys. I hope you are all doing okay. These past 24 hours have been rough for those affected by American politics.

In the name of comfort and escapism, I’ve been imagining what living with Bruno would look like. For instance—What does Bruno do in his spare time? What does his house look like? Is he a neat person? (spoiler alert: he definitely is.) And what is he like behind closed doors?

I’ll be diving into these questions (and more!) under the break!

Bruno lives in his modest childhood home by the sea, and he hasn’t changed much of the furniture or decor since his parents decorated it. Almost everything is as it was when he was a kid—it gives him a sense of comfort.

During the day, he loves to let the salty sea breeze in through open windows. At night, the lighting feels warm and inviting. Bruno is mindful of energy costs; he only uses lights when needed. Candlelight often fills the home after dark, adding a cozy ambiance. Bruno Bucciarati is a neat person, so his home is impeccably kept.

Bruno spends most of his time in his living room, partly because it’s where his record player lives. It sits between two speakers on top of a waist-high bookshelf in his living room that holds his impressive record collection, including genres such as jazz, prog rock, classical, and more. (He has a whole section dedicated to Miles Davis.) He’s added a desk to the room so he can work while listening to his vinyls. On the wall hangs one of his father’s old fishing nets, a reminder of the vow he made to his father to fight against drugs.

His childhood bedroom is mostly unchanged, having the same furniture and arrangement as when he was young. A small bookshelf holds the stories his mother used to read to him, and pictures of his parents rest on his nightstand.

His parents’ bedroom remains as it was when his father passed. Besides keeping it clean, Bruno hasn’t altered a thing in there, finding something almost sacred in its preservation.

Bruno’s also got a pretty decent wine collection stashed in the cellar, with some expensive, rare bottles. Being careful with money, he rarely splurges on high-end wine, so most of these rare bottles were gifts.

(I headcanon that Bruno is passionate about wine. If you’re interested in hearing about why I believe this, here’s a link to this post.)

Bruno Bucciarati definitely uses his walls for storage.

Before moving in, Bruno will chat with you about your needs. For instance, do you have any allergies? Do you have sensitive skin and need to use special laundry detergent? Are there certain foods you won’t eat? His home is now your home—he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

Bruno may not be a fan of PDA, but behind closed doors, he isn’t shy about showing affection. Whether it be a peck on the cheek, warm smiles, hand-holding, cuddling to Miles Davis, etc., Bruno is always happy to be close to you. (This goes without saying, but he loves when you reciprocate!)

You might often catch Bruno watching you with quiet admiration. For example, he lets you get ready for bed first so he can just observe you—it’s his way of reminding himself that he now has someone to come home to. For him, it’s like gazing at a winning lottery ticket.

However, like many people, there are moments when Bruno needs his personal space. (Especially if he’s very stressed or it’s work-related.) After all, everyone needs some alone time now and then, and he’ll do his best to let you know ahead of time. Don’t worry about upsetting him if you need to see him during this time—Bruno would never be mad about it. He’ll also reassure you there’s nothing wrong with your relationship if it’s something you need to hear.

Everyone has their flaws, and communication isn’t something Bruno is always the best about. He tends to keep stressful things to himself, to “shoulder the burden,” so to speak. In his mind, he believes he’s protecting you, but this can lead to him acting in unpredictable ways that only make sense if you have the full story.

For instance—remember when Trish asked Narancia why Bruno was such a cold person?

Bruno had a reason for his behavior, as he was close to death. But without knowing the entire story, Trish saw him as cold and uncaring. This is exactly the kind of misunderstanding I’m talking about—without context, Bruno’s actions can give the wrong impression.

Afterward, Narancia told to Trish that this was just how Bruno behaved, and she would understand if she got to know him better. While this dynamic of unexplained behavior may work in a subordinate-leader relationship, this isn’t the type of relationship you and Bruno have. Seeing you happy and safe is what matters most to him, but he doesn’t always go about it in the best way.

Communication is something the two of you may have to work through together.

As noted, Bruno is a neat person. Keeping everything clean and organized helps him stay focused and level-headed. On his days off, he keeps up with chores so his place stays in top shape—he also finds it calming.

Laundry and Ironing are two chores he doesn’t mind doing. Bruno takes great pride in the way he dresses so taking care of his clothes is very important to him. He also happens to be very good at removing stains. (Wearing white clothes regularly will force you to get good at it.) Like many Italians, Bruno doesn’t own a washer or dryer. This means everything gets washed by hand and hung outside to dry. (No need to splurge when you can do your laundry yourself.) Because clothes get stiff when air dried, Bruno irons everything, including socks, underwear, and towels. (This isn’t uncommon in Italy either.)

Bruno is quite skilled at cooking, a talent he developed while caring for his father. (He’s also picked up tips from Polpo’s unsolicited rants about food.) On the topic of cooking, Bruno tends to be big on meal prep, given that he doesn’t always have the time or energy to cook after a long day at work. Therefore, I can see him making a comical amount of food at once to store for later. You’ll walk in and the kitchen table looks like this:

If there’s one chore Bruno doesn’t enjoy, it’s taking out the trash. At first, I thought he’d have it easy because of the fact he could “zipper” it away inside the ground, but as stated to Trish inside Coco Jumbo, he has no idea where things go when he does that—probably best not to risk littering underground.

Bruno is very good about keeping clean. Every morning starts with a cold shower, which he enjoys for the mental clarity and alertness it brings. He’s happy to let you join him if he isn’t in a time constraint, and upon doing so, he’ll adjust the water temperature to something more suited to your preference. (Since he takes cold showers, he’s fine with pretty much any temperature as long as it isn’t scalding.)

If you end up showering with him, expect it to take a while. ;) (Especially if he has nothing going on that day.) His hands gently grazing your sides, he’ll likely start by asking if he can wash you. If you say yes, he’ll begin to gently and meticulously wash every part of you with an awestruck expression gracing his face. (“How did I get so lucky?” He’ll wonder.)

Araki designed Bruno with shiny, meticulously styled hair, which suggests to me that Bruno puts effort into caring for his hair. Healthy hair isn’t just good genes—Bruno goes a little further than just using shampoo and conditioner to maintain it. For instance, he definitely uses leave-in conditioner and hair oil. I can also see him using a hairdryer to blow out his hair and give it that perfect bob shape.

It’s impressive how fast Bruno can get ready for the day, considering all that goes into his daily styling. (You should see how fast he can braid his hair.) It takes him about 16-17 minutes to get ready, 10 more if he has to dry his hair.

Bruno finishes his routine with a few spritzes of cologne.

Around the house, Bruno dresses casually—no need for a fancy suit if no one’s around to see it. However, he will dress up if he’s expecting a visitor.

Sleeping next to you makes Bruno realize how fucking stressed he is all the time. His lifestyle/career has turned him into someone who is constantly hyper-vigilant, so it’s no wonder that Bruno is a very light sleeper. (That, plus the trauma from the night two intruders tried to kill Bruno’s dad while his dad was asleep. ) On his own, he tends to wake up multiple times in the middle of the night, but when he sleeps next to you, he usually stays asleep.

The best part about sleeping next to Bruno? He doesn’t really snore, possibly thanks to being a side sleeper. He also sleeps in pajamas, just in case he has to get up quickly. (Imagine being caught naked as intruders walk into your bedroom.)

I imagine Bruno uses the same bed he did as a kid. Therefore, I bet it is the Italian equivalent of a full-sized bed. This bed size has always worked for him, though he’d likely get a larger one if a partner moved in.

(You really can’t tell the size of the bed from the photo. It could very well be a twin instead of a full.)

Bruno typically starts his mornings bright and early at 6:30 am. He usually aims for about seven hours of sleep, going to bed around 11 p.m. or midnight, though it’s not unusual to see him working until 1 or 2 a.m. (So yeah… he never really gets enough sleep.)

In his downtime, Bruno likes to unwind with a book or by listening to records with a glass of wine—though these moments don’t happen as often as they should since he’s a bit of a workaholic.

Sometimes, he’ll take a walk to the shore where his dad used to dock and sit for a while. He finds it comforting—this is one way he feels he can stay connected to his dad.

Thank you for reading!!! this was super fun to write! I hope this post was able to provide you some comfort 💕

[the---hermit]

05|11|2024

After a couple of days in which I spent time with friends, worked, and went to an exibition dedicated to Tolkien, I am shortly back on my study routine. I say shortly because tomorrow I am finally get my wisdom tooth extracted so I guess I will be taking a couple of days off to rest after that. Anyway I am quite happy with what I have done today I finished reading and annotating an article and a half, which is more than I expected to do today. I am still progressing slower than I had initially planned at the beginning of the semester, but I should be able to comfortably study for two classes and take two exams in January. I am still waiting dor the dates of some exams to show up, but if nothing is out by next week I might email a professor, so that I can at least plan what to do. I am also quite annoyed by the fact that our wifi is fully out which means that the lost marathon I was planning on having tomorrow after the dentist is out of question. Of course the one time I know I will have two days of rest at home my wifi dies ugh. I will have to find other ways to entertain myself. Hopefully I will have enough energies to focus on a book.

Productivity list:

Read first thing in the morning

Finished reading and annotating article 1 for my history of Sabaudian states class

Started reading and annotating article 2

Updated my reading journal

Planned my next couple of weeks of studying and work

Duolingo

📖: The Adventures Of Amina Al-Sirafi

[claudiafrankie]

Pick a Card: Let me Describe You/What You're Going Through

DISCLAIMER: TAROT IS NOT AN EVIDENCE-BASED PRACTICE. YOU ARE IN CHARGE OF MAKING YOUR OWN DECISIONS. THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT DAY.

Pile 1: The Birds

This pile feels strongly ancestral. I don't know if you connect with your ancestors but they sure as shit want to connect with you lol. I think something in your life is in the process of unfolding and you are doing a really good job of staying objective about it. Not meddling with the outcome, just letting what will be, be. There seems to be a lot of chatter and external opinions flying around you, and your ancestors are like "for the birds" lmao.

For awhile now you have been in a stage of agitation, like when the piece of sand gets caught in an oyster and is transformed into a pearl. I think there's people around you that can sense that this is going on within you, but they might not have the tools to articulate this or approach you in a loving/sincere way about it, with the concern for your well-being/desire to help at the forefront of their intentions.

You could be isolating a lot because you feel this energy. You have become masterful at creating a haze/fog around yourself to conceal and protect yourself. It's like your in the kitchen cooking for company and your guests are breathing down your neck like "When's it going to be ready?? What are you making in there??? Can I see can I see can I see????" Lol I don't think these people have ill intentions they just don't know how to support you right now. I think you might have to take a more direct approach if you want them to lay off, though. I don't see them easing up/giving you your space, so if you want/need that it might be time to say that up front. You are pretty good at evading prying eyes, but you may have to play mama bear for yourself if you need more space than what you're getting.

I think you've been getting a lot of downloads and messages about your path and your healing process. You need to know that to integrate these messages you have to find better ways to rest. Not just literally like sleeping or napping, but things you can do to relax your mind and especially your body. You're kind of in a gestation process. Dealing with that on top of the stress of everyday living (and these birds who can't seem to mind their own business lol) calls for a more serious prioritization of slowing down.

I feel like I need to tell you that meditation doesn't have to be sitting still and breathing. Beach-combing can be meditative, coloring in a coloring book can be meditative, baking brownies can be meditative. I think it would really help you to pick an activity that is simple and slow and just really do it. Feel the pebbles/sand crunch/squeak under your feet, feel the coarse calcium shells, smell the crayons and watch their colors flood a blank page, listen to the egg shells crack on the counter.

I get that you might be dealing with some feelings of fear and/or dread. You aren't really sure what you're transforming into, and what will be left standing in your life once the process is complete. You're not a bad person for changing and leaving things or people behind. I think you are the type to cling to guilt over past relationships and really beat yourself up over mistakes. You are allowed to make mistakes. Once you start giving yourself that grace I think this gestation period will be a lot more bearable. It will still be uncomfortable, but you'll have a greater level of tolerance for discomfort and a stronger skill set for accommodating yourself.

I think you might be called to help guide others who are going through a similar process as well. I think this is not the first time you have moved through a period like this. You have the ability to notice when someone is struggling with changes in their own life and psyche, and the wisdom to be a source of comfort and guidance for them. I think you have encountered unsolicited advice and know how unhelpful and frustrating it can be to be on the receiving end of that, you know how to hold space for people in uncomfortable transition periods and not assert your own opinions/perspectives onto them of what they "should" be doing or what you think would be "good" for them. More than anything you understand how invaluable it is to have someone witness what you're going through and reflect it back to you without judgement. To really see you, and be with you.

Take care pile 1.

Pile 2: The Tower

Woah. This pile feels old old. There is a profoundly detached energy coming through for you guys, very cerebral and heady. It's not cold, but there is a sort of ruthless... neutrality. You see everyone as being on the same level, playing on the same field, fighting for the same things. Just maybe with some different outfits or weapons. This perspective informs your behavior heavily, and I feel like this might be misread by those around you as a disregard for authority, a sense of entitlement, of superiority. When in actuality, you're simply carrying yourself as exactly what you are: a sovereign being with power over your own life. You know that no one gets to tell you who you are, ever.

This kind of self-image and worldview, to many, is radical. Your presence forces people to confront themselves. They see you move through obstacles, pick yourself up, let things bounce right off you, and keep trying. They see your unwavering sense of self, a steady fire burning in a hearth. They are confronted with the reality that they have not cultivated this in themselves, or at least have not attained the level of mastery they perceive in you.

This can go two ways: some look to you as a source of inspiration. Some as competition. This pile is used to people competing with them for no good reason. You may have had people pretend to be friends with you, get close to you, try and siphon off of the glow and warmth of your inner world. You see the pain in people and you easily forgive, you are understanding of the myriad of reasons why people struggle to accept themselves. But you have also learned that, at the end of the day, we either decide to do something about this pain or we don't. And you can't make anyone do anything. There's that radical neutrality. You have faith that everyone is where they are meant to be, and will end up where they are meant to go.

Two of the tarot cards I pulled for you guys were Justice and the Ace of Swords. You guys are both a channel for the truth and the truth itself. The smallest things you do signal to others how you see the world, how you understand your place in it. I forget where I heard this, but there is an idea of "how you do one thing is how you do everything." That's you guys. Your beliefs permeate into everything you do.

I think for a lot of you, your karma could be playing out in the workplace. I think you are supposed to model for people what it means to really do the work, literally and figuratively. You are meticulous and shrewd. I might even say brilliant. You have a sharp mind and the drive to back it up. I get the sense that if you wanted to you could really fuck with people, but you don't. And I think this is for two reasons: I think you have a genuine appreciation and love for people and humanity, and I think you also have a deep understanding of the laws of karma. You understand the seriousness and precariousness of it all. You do not hold this lightly.

Maybe things feel stagnant at work, like they aren't moving, like your efforts go unnoticed or worse, are disregarded. Keep going. Keep trying. Not for anyone but yourself. Because you owe it to yourself to cultivate something that is all yours. Brick by brick, I think you have the potential to build yourself into a seriously successful person. But I don't think you'll be one of those people who has windfalls of luck - unexpected promotions or raises. And if these things do come to you, I see that these speedy promotions will be ultimately reversed. You are here to show people what it means to do it yourself, do it right. And doing it right takes time. But I don't think you need me to tell you that. ;)

Take it easy pile 2.

Pile 3: The Heart

You guys are tired and fed the fuck up is who you are lmao. I think the amount of pressure and frustration you have been encountering in your relationships has been building and building and building. As I'm writing this the time is 5:55, and two of your tarot cards are the five of pentacles and the five of swords. Things are changing for you guys, and it probably feels like, "Finally."

I think you're moving through a period where you have felt powerless when it comes to your relationships. There is a lot of build up of resentment for the people around you. I think you have been trying to stay optimistic, and maybe pushing down the part of you that's like "actually no......... we're not going to be treated like that"

I think there is or was a group of people that made you feel excluded. Your mistakes were magnified and your wins were ignored. You have been made to feel like it's your fault that they don't accept you, framing the dynamics as though you are the one who has to earn their approval. There is a really fucked up weaponizing of abandonment/belonging here. Like the behavior of these people is underhanded and covert, nothing really big happens that you can point to and say "That's what I'm talking about!!! Y'all are giant assholes!" It's all under the surface but it is detectable in so many of your interactions. They have been trying to get you to crack, to contort yourself to meet their expectations, to sacrifice your autonomy and self respect to fit in, just like they have.

I think there is some danger here on your part of swinging to an extreme. With the level of anger and frustration depicted in your cards, I wouldn't be surprised if you are fighting back tooth and nail your impulse to smack a bitch. I would like to tell you that, while honestly this would likely be a valid response in your situation, please do not engage in these types of behavior. Once to retaliate or respond to how you are being treated, it will be twisted. Even though you are the one who has been poked, prodded, and laughed at, if you respond to this - you will be made out to be the bad guy. And I know that that is crazy-making, but it's unfortunately how the world works. Don't give them the satisfaction. Take all that pent up energy and channel it into something for you, don't waste it on these people. They don't deserve it. Let it fuel your work ethic, start a new creative project, learn a new skill, start a side hustle, whip yourself into killer shape. Start your winter arc early, if you will. Let them watch you climb to the top, and then smile at them.

I think yeah you're just in a time of realizing how much of yourself you have set aside to please other people, and how detrimental this is to you and your relationships. You might have been feeling socially "stuck" for a long time. Past hurts have calcified and become like part of your skeletal structure. You've been in so much pain. I'm not sure if you've been keeping what you've been going through to yourself but if you have, it seems like some kind of outlet would be good. Even if you don't have anyone in your life that you feel safe opening up to, or if you can't afford therapy, use your body, journal, scream in a pillow, rage cry, dance it out to bad bitch anthems. This is like heavy and sharp and hot energy and it's just sitting in your solar plexus. You could be lashing out at people who don't deserve it and pushing away potential friends because there's just so much of this pain that you are struggling to express it and move through it. This is human and normal and there is nothing wrong with you!!!!

Best of luck pile 3

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vii)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3715

part 7. WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER RAAAAAAAAHHHH🗣️🦅‼️🇺🇸 we are now in austin baby (and the rest of the americas triple header), anyways more painfully slow progression for these two

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

The weight of expectations felt different now. YN noticed it in the way young girls' eyes followed her through the paddock, in the trembling voices asking for autographs, in the handmade signs declaring "Future F1 Driver" held by tiny hands. The Singapore podium hadn't just been her victory – it had opened a door of possibility for countless others who saw themselves in her.

During the VCARB fan zone event, a mother approached with her two daughters, both wearing miniature versions of YN's race suit. "They haven't missed a single practice session since you joined F1," the mother explained, her voice thick with emotion. "My youngest even asked to change schools so she could go karting more often."

The responsibility of it all hit YN harder than any g-force she'd experienced on track. These weren't just fans anymore – they were dreams in human form, hope wearing replica helmets and carrying notebooks filled with racing lines sketched in crayon.

Yuki found her later, sitting alone in the engineering room, staring at telemetry data without really seeing it. He didn't say anything at first, just placed a familiar convenience store energy drink on the desk – the same brand they'd shared during their junior racing days.

"Remember what you told me in F3?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her. "After that massive shunt at Silverstone?"

"That failure only sticks if you let it define you," YN recited, the memory bringing a slight smile to her face.

"Exactly." His shoulder brushed against hers as he reached for the laptop, pulling up their comparative sector times. "So stop letting them define you by one podium. You're here because you're fast, not because you're making history."

The VCARB social media team captured them the next day, filming a segment where they had to teach each other their pre-race rituals. YN tried not to laugh as Yuki attempted to replicate her precise steering wheel adjustment sequence, his fingers fumbling over the buttons.

"How do you remember all of these?" he groaned, accidentally activating the radio instead of the brake bias adjustment.

"The same way you remember your weird lucky sock routine," she teased, earning a playful glare.

"They're not weird, they're traditional!"

The camera caught their natural banter, the way they moved in sync without thinking, years of friendship evident in every interaction. Comments flooded in almost immediately: "The chemistry between these two! 🔥" "Name a better duo, I'll wait 😍" "From F3 to F1, what a journey!"

But it was the other comments that kept YN up at night, scrolling through her phone in her hotel room: "My daughter started karting because of you" "Thank you for showing girls they belong in motorsport" "You're changing the sport forever."

The pressure crystallized during the pre-race press conference. A journalist asked about her influence on young female fans, and YN felt every camera focus on her face.

"I race because I love it," she began carefully, feeling Yuki's supportive presence beside her. "If that inspires others to chase their dreams, then that's wonderful. But I'm not here to be a symbol – I'm here to be fast."

Later, as they walked back to the garage, Yuki caught her arm. "You know what makes you a good role model?" he asked, his dark eyes serious. "You never forgot why you started racing in the first place."

The Texas sun beat down on the Circuit of the Americas as YN adjusted her helmet, preparing for final practice. Through the visor, she could see a cluster of young girls pressed against the fence, wearing her team colors. One held a sign that read: "Future World Champion."

The sight would have paralyzed her with pressure a week ago. But now, as she caught Yuki's encouraging nod from across the garage, she felt something else. Those girls weren't just looking up to her – they were looking forward, to their own futures in the sport. She wasn't just carrying their dreams; she was showing them how to chase their own.

As she pulled out of the garage, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else, YN smiled. The weight of being a role model would always be there, but so would the pure joy of racing, the thrill of pushing limits, and the quiet understanding in Yuki's eyes when she needed reminding of who she was beyond the headlines.

In the end, that's what would inspire those young dreamers more than any podium – the truth that she was, first and always, a racer who happened to be making history, not the other way around. And if her heart still fluttered when Yuki grinned at her through the garage window, well, that was just another kind of racing altogether.

The Austin qualifying session played out like a well-choreographed dance, both VCARB cars sliding through to Q3 with methodical precision. YN could feel the electricity in the air as she pulled her car into parc fermé, the satisfaction of another strong qualifying evident in the smiles beneath both their helmets.

"Not bad for someone who needed five takes to lasso a hay bale," she teased Yuki as they walked to the media pen, their race suits damp with Texas sweat.

"Says the one who claimed to have Texas racing in her blood," he shot back, but his eyes crinkled with that smile she'd grown so familiar with over the years. The one that made her forget about the cameras following their every move.

Race day dawned clear and crisp, the kind of autumn morning that made COTA's sweeping turns look even more inviting. During the drivers' parade, YN noticed how Yuki kept glancing her way, checking her pre-race mood as he'd done since their Formula 3 days. Some habits never changed, even under the bright lights of Formula 1.

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Twenty laps in, running P5 and P6, their engineers' voices crackled over the radio with synchronized strategy calls. YN couldn't help but smile inside her helmet as she and Yuki executed their pit stops within a lap of each other, their years of shared experience showing in every synchronized movement.

"Box, box, box this lap," her engineer called.

"Copy," she responded, already knowing Yuki would be in the following lap. They'd discussed this scenario in the strategy meeting, finishing each other's sentences until their race engineer had joked about getting them a joint radio channel.

The final stint saw them running P4 and P5, Yuki just ahead, defending against a charging Ferrari while YN managed the gap to the McLaren behind. Their pace was metronomic, matching each other sector by sector.

"Yuki and YN, maintain position, great job both of you," their team principal's voice came over the radio on the cool-down lap. "Strong points for the team today."

In parc fermé, they found each other immediately, as if drawn by some invisible force. Yuki pulled her into a quick hug, the kind they'd shared countless times in their junior careers but felt different now under the Formula 1 spotlight.

"Just like the old days," he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear. "Except now we're doing it in F1."

The media obligations blurred together after that – questions about team dynamics, about their history together, about her continued progress in the sport. But one moment stood out, when a reporter asked about their obvious synchronicity on track.

"You and Yuki seem to have an almost telepathic understanding during races. How much does your shared history in junior formulas play into that?"

YN caught Yuki's eye across the media pen, saw that familiar half-smile playing at his lips. "When you've spent as many years as we have pushing each other to be better, you develop a sort of shorthand," she answered. "It's like having a racing dictionary that only we know how to read."

Later, as they sat in the team's hospitality unit reviewing race data, shoulders brushing as they leaned over the same screen, YN felt that familiar warmth in her chest. P4 and P5 might not have the glamour of Singapore's podium, but there was something special about achieving it together, about proving they could be just as strong as teammates as they had been as rivals.

"Your exit speed through turn 19 was insane," Yuki commented, pointing at a particular segment of data. "Always been better than me there."

"Yeah, well, your sector one was textbook perfect," she replied, nudging his shoulder. "Some things never change."

As the Texas sun set over the circuit, casting long shadows across the paddock, YN realized that success in Formula 1 wasn't just measured in podiums and points. Sometimes it was in the synchronized pit stops, the matched sector times, the understood glances across briefing rooms. Sometimes it was in the way Yuki still remembered how she liked her post-race coffee, or how he could read her mood from the way she adjusted her gloves before a session.

The hunger for success was still there, burning as bright as ever, but now it felt shared – a flame they tended together, pushing each other toward greater heights. And if that flame sometimes felt like it could burn down the careful walls between teammates and something more, well, that was just another kind of race they were learning to navigate.

In the team photo later, standing in front of their cars with their race boots still dusty from the COTA track walk, YN felt Yuki's hand brush against hers, a ghost of a touch that sent sparks through her racing gloves. Some victories, she was learning, didn't need podiums to feel just as sweet.

The evening after the race, YN found herself in her hotel room, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off. Her phone buzzed with a message from Yuki: "Roof? Like old times?"

It was their tradition, started in Formula 3 – finding the highest point they could after a race, away from the cameras and expectations. Back then, it had been trailer roofs and empty grandstands. Now, standing on the hotel's rooftop terrace, Austin's skyline glittered before them like a circuit made of stars.

"Thought I'd find you overthinking everything," Yuki said, appearing beside her with two cups of green tea – another tradition from their junior days. His race suit was replaced with team joggers and a hoodie, but his hair still bore the marks of his helmet, sticking up at odd angles.

"Not overthinking," YN protested, accepting the tea. "Just... processing."

"Liar." His shoulder bumped against hers as he leaned on the railing. "I know that look. Same one you had after your first F3 win. Like you're waiting for someone to say it was all a mistake."

The city lights blurred as she stared into her tea. "It's different now. Every move we make, every point we score... it's not just about us anymore. Did you see how many girls were in the grandstands today? Wearing our team colors, holding signs..."

"I saw." His voice was soft. "I also saw how you fought through sector two like a demon. How you didn't lift once through turn 15. That's what they were cheering for – not what you represent, but what you do."

YN turned to look at him, finding his dark eyes already on her. In the dim light, she could almost pretend they were back in their early racing days, when everything felt simpler. When the weight of inspiration didn't rest quite so heavy on her shoulders.

"Sometimes I miss when it was just us," she admitted quietly. "Just two kids with dreams too big for our budget racing suits."

"It's still us," Yuki said, his hand finding hers on the railing. "The cameras just have better angles now."

That startled a laugh out of her, breaking the tension. "Remember when we used to practice interviews?"

"And you always made me play the journalist asking about tire management," he grinned. "Look how far we've come."

The night air wrapped around them like a comfortable silence, filled with years of shared memories and unspoken understanding. YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest when Yuki's thumb absently traced patterns on her hand, probably not even aware he was doing it.

"Hey," he said suddenly, turning to face her fully. "About what you said in the press conference today – about having a racing dictionary only we know how to read?"

She nodded, remembering the moment.

"Some things don't need translation." His voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes said everything his words couldn't.

The space between them seemed to shrink, the city lights and pressure and expectations fading until all that remained was the warmth of his hand in hers and the understanding that had grown between them over countless races and shared dreams.

Racing was about timing – knowing exactly when to brake, when to accelerate, when to take the risk that could change everything. As YN looked at Yuki, at the boy who'd become her best friend and the man who'd become so much more, she wondered if some moments were worth the risk of missing the apex altogether.

The Texas night held its breath, waiting for someone to make the first move in this new kind of race – one where the finish line looked suspiciously like the beginning of something else entirely.

The Mexico City paddock hummed with anticipation as teams prepared for the next race weekend. YN found herself spending more time in the VCARB garage even when she wasn't required to be there, drawn by the comfortable rhythm she and Yuki had developed. Their shared success in Austin had only strengthened their partnership, both on and off track.

During technical briefings, they sat closer than necessary, shoulders brushing as they reviewed sector times. Their race engineers had started presenting their data side by side, noting how their driving styles had begun to complement each other. Where YN was bold through the high-speed corners, Yuki was precise in the technical sections. Together, they were pushing VCARB higher in the constructors' championship with each race.

"Your throttle application through turn 4 is getting aggressive," Yuki noted one evening, pointing at her telemetry data. The garage had emptied hours ago, but they remained, bathed in the blue glow of monitors.

"Says the one who's been taking my lines through the chicane," YN replied, unable to hide her smile. The way he studied her data with such intensity made her heart race faster than any qualifying lap.

The pressure of being Formula 1's breakthrough female driver still weighed heavily, but Yuki had a way of making it feel lighter. He'd started joining her for media obligations, his presence a silent support system. When journalists asked about gender barriers, he'd seamlessly redirect the conversation to her racing prowess, her technical feedback, her contribution to the team.

One rainy evening in Mexico City, they found themselves trapped in the engineering office as a tropical storm passed over the circuit. Thunder rattled the windows as they worked through race simulation data.

"Remember Suzuka in F3?" Yuki asked suddenly, looking up from his laptop. "That rain-soaked qualifying?"

"When you insisted on running slicks because the forecast said it would clear?" YN laughed. "And then it poured harder?"

"Hey, you followed me out on slicks too!"

"Because I trusted you," she said softly, the words carrying more weight than intended.

The silence that followed was filled with years of shared risks, mutual trust, and something deeper that had been growing between them since Austin. Yuki's hand found hers across the desk, their fingers intertwining naturally, like two racing lines converging at the perfect apex.

In their world of precise measurements and calculated risks, this thing between them was wonderfully unpredictable. It showed in the lingering hugs after good results, in the way Yuki's eyes sought her out across crowded drivers' briefings, in how their casual touches had become as natural as breathing.

The pressure of being a role model, of carrying the hopes of countless young girls, still kept YN awake some nights. But now, when the weight felt too heavy, she had someone who understood both the burden and the beauty of it. Someone who saw her not as a symbol or a milestone, but as a racer, a friend, and maybe something more.

The thunder rolled on, but in their quiet corner of the paddock, they had found their own kind of peace – one built on shared dreams, mutual understanding, and the exhilarating promise of what lay ahead, both on and off the track.

The Mexico City podium celebration was still echoing through the paddock as YN made her way back to the garage. P3 felt sweeter than Singapore somehow - maybe because this time, Yuki was right there in P4, both of them having fought their way through the field together. As she rounded the corner, Lando Norris fell into step beside her, a knowing grin on his face.

"So," he drawled, "that was quite the defense you two pulled off against the Ferraris. Almost like you could read each other's minds."

"Good team strategy," YN replied diplomatically, but she could feel her cheeks warming.

"Right, 'team strategy,'" Lando air-quoted. "Is that what we're calling those long 'engineering briefings' you two keep having on the hotel roof?"

Before YN could respond, Charles Leclerc joined them, still in his race suit. "Leave them alone, Lando," he said, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, YN, your racing line through turn 4 is starting to look suspiciously like Yuki's..."

The teasing followed them to Brazil, where the intensity of Interlagos only seemed to strengthen their connection. During the drivers' parade, Alex Albon nudged Yuki. "Remember when you used to complain about sharing data with teammates? Now we can't get you out of the engineering room."

Yuki's face flushed, but he couldn't hide his smile. "The team's progress is important," he muttered.

"The team, or a specific teammate?" Pierre Gasly chimed in from behind them, earning a chorus of laughs.

In the garage, their race engineers had started making jokes about their synchronized feedback. "Let me guess," YN's engineer would say when she reported understeer, "Yuki's about to radio in with the same thing?" He was usually right.

The social media buzz was growing too. Fan accounts dedicated to capturing their moments together multiplied overnight. Every shared laugh, every trackside conversation, every celebratory hug was analyzed and gif'd within minutes. #TeamTsunoda began trending alongside #YNSupremacy.

But it was in the quiet moments between sessions that their bond deepened most. After a particularly challenging practice session in São Paulo, YN found Yuki waiting in their usual spot - a secluded corner of the garage with a perfect view of the timing screens.

"The media's getting worse," she sighed, slumping beside him. The questions had shifted from her racing to her personal life, from her achievements to her relationship status. The weight of being not just a female driver but now half of F1's most speculated-about pair was beginning to wear.

Yuki's hand found hers instinctively. "Then we give them something real to talk about - our racing," he said firmly. "Show them why we're here."

They did exactly that in qualifying, setting the track alight with a synchronized performance that put them P3 and P4. In the cooldown room, Max Verstappen shook his head with amusement. "You two are scary when you're in sync like that."

"They're always in sync," George Russell called out. "Haven't you seen their matching coffee orders?"

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Lap after lap, they defended and attacked as one unit, their cars dancing through Interlagos's sweeping turns like partners in a carefully choreographed ballet. When Yuki's radio crackled with a strategy call, YN was already adjusting her lines to complement his movement.

"Your girlfriend's got your back again, Tsunoda," came Lewis Hamilton's teasing voice over the radio after YN perfectly blocked an overtaking attempt that would have compromised Yuki's position.

In parc fermé, with another double points finish secured, they found each other through the crowd of mechanics and media. The cameras caught their embrace, longer than usual, neither caring about the headlines it would generate.

"Did you see Twitter?" Daniel Ricciardo grinned as they walked to the podium ceremony. "They're calling you two the 'Race Track Romance.'"

"Better than what they used to call me," YN said softly, remembering the early days when every mistake was attributed to her gender.

"They call you a brilliant driver now," Yuki said firmly, his hand brushing against hers. "Everything else is just noise."

Later, in their now-traditional post-race debrief on the hotel roof, the São Paulo sunset painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest as Yuki traced the racing line of turn 1 on her palm.

"The media's right about one thing," he said quietly. "We are better together."

"Because we push each other to be better," YN replied, but they both knew it was more than that.

"Remember in Austin," Yuki began, turning to face her fully, "when you said some things don't need translation?"

YN nodded, her heart racing faster than any qualifying lap.

"Well," he continued, his dark eyes intense, "I think I'm tired of leaving things unspoken."

The Brazilian night air held its breath as the space between them disappeared, years of friendship, rivalry, and unspoken feelings finally converging at the perfect moment. As their lips met, soft and sure, YN realized that while making history as a female F1 driver had opened doors for others, this - finding someone who saw her as both a fierce competitor and a woman who made his heart race - was a different kind of breakthrough altogether.

The paddock's teasing, the media speculation, the fan theories - none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Yuki's hands cupped her face like she was both strong and precious, the way their heartbeats synchronized like perfectly matched sector times, the way everything finally felt right in their high-speed world.

They had always been good at reading each other's moves on track. Now, as they pulled apart just enough to share breathless smiles, they realized they'd been reading each other's hearts all along. Some victories, after all, were worth more than any podium.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch.4

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: You all know the drill, thank you @tobbi-loves-levi for going over this chapter with me and helping me make it everything I wanted 💗

previous / masterlist / dividers

An inviting herbal scent fills the air in Levi’s office, complemented nicely with a warm room temperature. While outside it’s quite hot around this time of June, the center is pretty consistently freezing; especially the ice rink. The printer whirls behind Levi’s office chair while he leans back with his arms stretched out to catch the papers as they slide out. He gathers them together, tapping them once on the desk before flipping open your file and placing them at the back. The start of your fifth week means you’re more than halfway through your estimated treatment plan with Levi. 

Levi spins the folder around so it’s facing you and scoots his chair in to lean over it, using his pen to point out specific milestones you have reached. “I think we should change our Wednesdays to off ice days for the remainder of our sessions.” He mentions as he flips through the pages. “Keep Mondays and Fridays as our rink days. Sound alright?” You nod in agreement, following Levi's pen as he goes through a loose schedule of goals he wants to reach over the next couple of weeks. 

“Sign here, then we can head down.” He double taps the signature line. “Oh, and you might want to think about reaching out to Tarasov again if you’re serious about getting involved once skating season begins.” 

You hadn’t considered how fast the time has gone by. Skating season starts in July and your sessions with Levi are on route to wrap up in just a few weeks. You should be happy, everything you worked for is starting to pay off and soon enough you’ll be working on getting back into competitions. Bit by bit all of your goals are being met, so why does your heart ache for more time? 

“You coming, or did you want to spend today’s session staring at my desk?” Levi asks. You’re not sure how long you went without responding to him. 

Your mind is elsewhere for the beginning of today’s session while you did your warm up basics, up until you had no choice but to put all of your mental energy into your target goal for today. Levi has you do Waltz jumps until you could do them with your eyes closed. By the time you move onto spins for the rest of your time, you think if you had to do another waltz you’d pull the hair out of your head. That’s the thing about Levi, he understands when something��s too much to handle but once he’s sure you can do it he’s not so easy on you. Funnily enough it’s one of your favorite things about him, and one of the leading reasons you can say you're making progress. He won't let you give up. 

***

On Wednesday you show up early again to watch Levi skate. Even though you know you won't be on the ice today, it’s still nice to be around it. Your fear of being turned away fades when he sees you standing at the boards and continues on with his routine anyways. Erwin shows up shortly after you and stands to your left. You can't help but be curious about him. He and Levi seem close, in fact you’ve never really seen Levi talk to anyone casually outside of erwin. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to start talking, neither of you taking your eyes off Levi. You learn that Erwin is a personal trainer based in the basketball wing of Sina, though he takes clients of any sport. He met Levi seven years ago when he first started working here because surprisingly enough, he’s a huge fan of ice sports. Soon you come to find that Erwin and Levi are a lot closer than you originally assumed. They even hangout outside of work too, though as Erwin put it, “it took some convincing.” With how reluctant Levi is to open up, you believe that. 

Levi finishes off with three consecutive jumps before gliding off towards the rink’s exit to get out of his skates.

“He adds one member to the audience and suddenly pulls out the big moves. Show off.” Erwin huffs out a laugh and thanks you for the pleasant conversation before turning and heading off.

Off-ice starts off as it usually would, stretches, ankle exercises, balance board, and spinners. Somewhere down the line you and Levi were practicing throws again. You don't know how it happened but you don’t care. It’s productive because it still helps you build back the skill of landing on your ankle and get used to the feeling of air time again. You slowly work on adding more rotations before landing and eventually Levi feels more comfortable throwing you higher. 

You dont think you’ll ever get tired of the feeling of Levi’s hands on you. It feels safe, he makes you feel light. No matter what, you're confident Levi would never put you at risk for another injury. There's no wiggle room in competitive figure skating. Everything has its order, but it doesn't feel that way with him. In a way you almost feel like he sets you free from that mindset. Even if it’s only for a small chunk of time each session. The following week, it’s now just an unspoken part of your routine.

***

You quickly learn that time is not a generous thing, the whole next week of sessions goes by much faster than you expected. You blame this on the fact that the more you worked with Levi the better you were getting. Once you started to get a handle on skating again after so much time off the ice it started to become more fun rather than something you needed to do to heal.

Every day that week, you showed up to watch Levi skate before your sessions. When you weren’t completely mesmerized by him, you took the opportunity to watch his form in real time rather than how he would present it to you during therapy. You think that helped you get things down as quickly as you are. 

This week marks the beginning of your last two weeks with Levi, and it’s all that you think about. That’s only six more sessions, two of which aren’t even on the ice. It’s not that you didn't think you were ready, no, you know you are. Levi has talked enough sense into you the last couple weeks to have you sure of that, paired with your progress he showed you in your file. It’s clear that you are recovering and building your skill back to how it was before your accident. It was scary to think about doing this without Levi, you still haven’t taken his advice on reaching out to your old coach. The second you do that it will just feel that much more real. You know how irresponsible it is to put off too, which only made it worse. 

Monday you show up to watch Levi skate as usual, quickly noticing that Erwin isn’t here. When he sees you he skates over to the board to greet you, which he usually doesn’t do. When he meets you at the boards he’s quiet for a moment, you can’t quite read the subtle expression on his face. 

“Do you want to come out here with me?” He asks, his question throwing you off a little.

“What, like early?” You ask. 

“No,” he pauses, brows furrowed lightly. Is he nervous? “To skate.” 

“You want me to skate with you?” 

“That’s what I said. Hurry up before I change my mind.” He says, pushing off the boards and skating off. That’s all you needed to hear. You pick up your bag and rush over to the bench to put your skates on, triple checking the laces before going out onto the ice with him. 

Levi meets up with you in the middle of the rink where you stand. “What should I do?” you ask, feeling lost without your usual directions. 

“Whatever you want.” Levi says “Don’t you ever skate for fun?”

You think about it, and you can honestly say that you don't. You haven’t since your accident and even before you can’t think of the last time you went ice skating for anything other than to maintain or improve your skill. “No.” You shake your head lightly. 

“Ah,” Levi hums “explains why you’re so damn hard on yourself. You know you should kind of enjoy this right?” His words sink deep, he’s right. You watch him as he zips off, all you can think to do is bits of your program from Nationals. You take out more of the extreme moves knowing Levi wouldn’t want you doing anything you haven’t worked much on during your sessions together. 

It’s slow, it’s choppy, but you landed everything you attempted. You stayed balanced on your ankle every time you tried, but it’s so hard to be reminded that it’s not the same. Thoughts creep in swiftly. How could you ever compete again? Especially when even after all the improvement you couldn’t even stitch together a smooth program. 

“It’s almost like you don’t need me anymore.” Levi comments as he meets back up with you. You wouldn’t say it outloud to him, but it only made you feel worse. It seems like Levi knows you more than you give him credit for. He doesn’t expand on that thought, but instead he asks if you want to try one with him. 

You agree, it would make it fun just like the throws you practice. Levi gives you a sequence that’s easy to follow and of course only includes two of the simpler jumps the two of you have worked on together as of recently. Essentially this is a pairs program, which is entirely new to you. 

Levi counts the two of you down to start off together, pushing off in sync you go through the motions with him. He starts off with his hand hovering over your lower back behind you, making sure you stay in line with him. Only when he’s sure you can stay in your path does he pull his hand back, allowing the two of you to go off into your first harmonized spin and jump combo.

After going through the routine two more times it’s almost flawless, even you could tell. You lean over with your hands on your knees “Do you want to try that throw?” You asked through labored breaths, though you were half joking. Levi won’t even entertain it. 

“Absolutely not. You need a break anyways.” You catch your breath by the boards with Levi standing across from you, seemingly unphased by the repeated routine the two of you just did. 

“Have you ever had Erwin come out here with you?” 

“Tried. He says he doesn’t want to become one of my clients.” 

You laugh before taking a drink from your water bottle and setting it back down on the ledge. You find yourself thinking over your routine with Levi again, and his words from earlier. You should be having fun skating and it was clear Levi did so you wonder.

“Do you ever miss competing?” You ask him, nervous that he may not appreciate the question.

“Every day.” His answer was not hesitant this time.

“You should get back into it.” You say softly.

“I can’t.” He replies and you can see by the look on his face it’s hard for him to talk about this. He’s being short, but not unwilling. 

“Are you kidding? Levi, you’re incredible out there.” Your expression softens as you try to be hopeful, maybe he just needs to hear it from someone. 

“That’s not my life anymore.” Out of all the weeks you’ve known him, you’ve never heard him sound so sad. Levi anxiously pulls at the hem of his sleeve before pulling it up and checking his watch “It’s time to start our session.” 

You ease off it, watching as he moves to skate towards the center of the rink. For the first time you don’t look forward to your session, the more you complete the more it dawns on you; your time with Levi is almost up.

That’s when it hits you

An idea.

***

Nervous is an understatement. Honestly, you felt like you were driving yourself crazy. When you came up with this idea, you thought it through a million times. It’s the scariest thing because if it doesn’t work out you’re screwed. You couldn’t keep it to yourself, you needed advice, and who better to ask than your best friend. 

Mikasa shows up around seven, prepared for your agreed upon sleepover plans made on Monday night with a set of comfy clothes and carry out from your favorite restaurant for dinner. When she let you know Friday night works for her you were thankful the weeks were going by so fast. You let her in and head straight to the couch, where you enjoy the meal while you start the first episode of a new series. 

“Well,” Mikasa hums when the two of you mutually decide to take a break from the show. “you’ve been awfully quiet about how it’s going in therapy.” 

You smile over at her, turning your body to face her. “Honestly? It was tough at first, I’m not going to lie. It’s a lot better now.” 

“So Levi didn’t scare you off then?” She jokes. “He won’t tell me anything, says you’re a client like any other so,” she trails off. 

“The opposite actually. He's,” You pause for a moment, breaking your eye contact with Mikasa. “He’s amazing. There’s no way I could have made any of the progress I have without him.” You tell her everything. Your progress in physical therapy, the clever ways Levi challenged your anxiety, even the throws and skating together before your sessions; another thing that became an unspoken addition to your routines with Levi. 

“He even opened up a little bit here and there about some of the things he struggled with after his injury.” You mention, and Mikasa’s eyes shoot open. Genuine shock taking over her expression. 

“Really?” She breathes.

“Just a little.” You say, shrugging. “I don’t know much, just that it seemed hard. I can’t even imagine.” 

Mikasa takes a minute to think about how to respond. “We didn’t see him for over a year. He skipped birthdays, holidays. His mom was sick over it for so long.” Mikasa gets quiet again. “He wasn’t the same for a long time, to this day he won’t speak about it.” It was difficult to hear, but made you wonder why Levi was so different around you. Why would he be more willing to answer your questions over his own family? You were scared more than ever now to bring up the idea you’ve been holding in the whole night.

“It sounds like he really likes you.” Mikasa says. “Seems like he found a friend in you.” It sounds silly, even coming from Mikasa. At the end of the day you aren’t oblivious to the fact that you’re a client of Levi’s, not a friend. As much as you wanted to push back you had more pressing matters on your mind. 

“Can I ask you something?” You brace yourself for the words that are about to come out of your mouth. 

“Sure,” Mikasa says softly.

“It might sound crazy,” You begin nervously. “I was thinking about asking him to be my coach after therapy is finished. It’s a shot in the dark, but I know I can do it with him.” You can’t help but feel like along with advice, you’re also asking for her blessing.

“I think that’s a great idea.” A warm smile spreads across Mikasa’s face, her eyes lighting up.

***

A long sigh escaped your lips as you plop down on the bench, your whole body surging with ache. Levi had chosen the last week of sessions to work on the more advanced jumps and spins. It was more so to make sure he could send you off to your coach confident that you knew what you were doing, and that you would be able to build your skill back up while training for competitions. 

Levi approaches you after he takes his own skates off, bumping your skate with his shoe to get your attention “What’s going on with you.” His tone laced with concern. 

“Huh?” You pick your head up, your confusion painted clearly across your face. 

“Something’s on your mind. This isn’t the week to lose focus.” He says plainly. 

You shake your head, turning your gaze back down and directing your attention back on getting your skates off so there was no chance for him to read your facial expression. Proving him right. “Everything’s fine Levi,” You try to assure him. The truth is, you were trying to wait until the last day to ask him. That way if it went badly you’d never have to face him again. Part of you didn’t even know why you were so worried about it. You set your skate on your lap, dragging a cloth across the blade to dry it before putting it away.

“The past four sessions you’ve been somewhere else. Today you barely even spoke.” His words cut through your chest, you forget how observant he is sometimes. “This is the most important part, I can’t release you unprepared.” 

“I didn’t fall once today.” You point out, in fact your session today felt a lot like your regular training. Just practicing to maintain. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Levi says. “Don’t tell me you’re second guessing about getting back into competitive skating.” 

You zip your bag up after dropping your other skate inside, whipping your attention back up at Levi. “No! Of course not.” You assure. Just looking at him hurts a little, you start to doubt your plan. It would uplift his whole career to take you under his wing, it almost felt selfish. You should be able to do this with Tarasov. Hell, she got you to Worlds the first time. You know reaching out to her this late would earn you being scolded for waiting until the last second. 

Levi’s knit eyebrows relax and he drops his shoulders, visibly relieved. He stands there for a moment before letting out a sigh and giving up. “Fine, come back on Wednesday more sharp.” He turns around and heads off towards the door, picking up his own skate bag as he walks past it. Panic rises to the surface, you wish you could yell out to him, tell him you don’t want to have to do this with anyone other than him. In an instant you decide that you can do just that. You stand up and grab your bag, haphazardly stuffing your feet into your shoes before taking off after him. Your bag swishes behind you every time your shoes hit the ground 

“Levi!” You don’t mean to shout so close behind him. He flinches when you grab his shoulder to stop him, causing him to turn and face you. “I lied, sorry.” you start. 

“Alright. So what is it?” Levi says, one eyebrow raised as he tenses up slightly under your light grasp. 

“Hear me out, okay?” You bite your lip, waiting for his confirmation and continuing when he tilts his head slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot- the whole week actually. I think I’ve made so much progress with you, and I know this is our last week,” You aren’t holding back, and no matter how much your body screams to do so you don’t look away from him. “And I don’t need an answer right away, it’s sort of a big deal so-“ 

“Spit it out.” He cuts you off, his puzzled look now replaced with one of nervousness, eyes wide as he looks directly into your eyes. 

“Levi, please will you be my coach?” You say it, finally able to catch your breath from the combination of sprinting after Levi and rambling with no breaths in between. “Like my real coach, after we finish therapy.” 

Levi stares at you, his jaw slack. He almost looked.. appalled? You wish you knew exactly what’s going through his mind. 

“I know it’s a huge request, like I said. Think about it.” You try. “I think we could take gold, really-“ 

“No.” Levi turns his head, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Like he is physically unable to look at you. Time stands still, this is by far the worst case scenario that you feared. 

“Wait..” You say in a hushed tone. 

“The answer’s no.” He confirms, lips parted slightly like he wants to say more but nothing comes out. He takes a step back. “Just..I’ll see you Wednesday.” With that he turns completely and walks out, leaving you behind.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

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@levisbrat25 

[not-poignant]

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

A very close friend of mine was moving away from the state, and I was really cut up about it. I'd previously been seeing him and Glen at least weekly for many years. We watched movie premieres together, we went to Japanese festivals together, we went to a regular cafe together, we watched TV together, I cooked us all meals together.

On that final day, we had planned a lot of things but we all knew my energy levels might not be up for it.

In the morning, we all went out for dim sum, and talked about our dreams and hopes, and how much we wanted the best for our friend (this person inspired Kadek, incidentally). We had our favourite dim sum dishes, and laughed together, and lightly made fun of each other (taking the piss in a very Australian way) and then afterwards I realised I'd have to dip and get some sleep to recover some energy for the rest of the day.

I was really scared I wouldn't recover, because I can count on one hand the amount of times I've been able to do three big things in one day, on one hand, in the last ten years.

I slept for many hours, and we rendezvoused at Kings Park, which is gorgeous, and it was a beautiful day. Lightly cloudy, breezy, cool but just enough that you'd warm up nicely in the sun. We all sat down on the grass and stared at the perfect panorama of Perth city and took photos, and made the most of it.

We drove back to our favourite cafe that we'd been haunting for a long time, had our favourite meals. As usual, he took forever to decide on a menu he'd seen over 100 times, and I knew what I was getting before I even got there. We reminisced, we talked about how good our friend was going to do after he moved, we made sure to let him know we loved him and we were proud of him and would always be there for him.

After that, we came back here. I was truly shattered. My body was in pain. My friend knew that I'd spent up all the reserves and all of the "savings" and when he inquired about it, I told him that he was worth a million days like this, and he is.

I sat on the couch, barely verbal, basking in a strange warmth I'd never felt before. It was like being in the sun at Kings Park, but somehow warmer. And as I experienced it for longer, I came to reflect on its newness and how strange and nice it was. It wasn't the feeling of being in love. It wasn't the feeling of just happiness. It was some new thing, completely unfamiliar to me.

It was contentment. Something I'd never felt before. It was a bittersweet contentment, because he was leaving, because I knew what it meant about my entire life up until that point that I'd never felt it, not even in my childhood. Not even for five minutes.

It lasted about 20 minutes, it was some golden thing, and I've only felt it about one more minute since.

I live my life hoping I'll get to feel that again, and yeah, I'd say that's a memory I hold very close to my heart.

--

From the soft asks meme