#but I’m curious how people think they’d react

[mochatsin]

I’m not sure if you ever watched it but, a few years back there was a trend where someone put a dry piece of pasta in their mouth and asked the other person closest to them to crack their back, then when they do they crack the pasta in their mouth and go limp like they broke a bone!

Could you make that with Mc and Lucifer in the living room with all the brothers just in their as well? I wanna see your interpretation of their reactions!

It started out as an innocent little dare from Solomon during your little sleep over at Purgatory Hall. You’ve seen this trend before, where people would put a little dry piece of pasta inside their mouths and ask someone for help to stretch their back, and then crack the pasta as if they broke a bone. It’s a classic trend that you enjoyed, but you’re not really sure if it would come across the same way with the brothers. You were watching those videos with the residents at Purgatory hall so it was only natural that this sort of dare would come up. You had to do it since the alternative is that you’d have to let Solomon spoon feed you in public like couples do, which would’ve been fine except it’s his home made cooking. There was no way you would survive that… so the pasta trend it is!

You had a little camera hidden by the shelf when you pretended to grab something off it so you wouldn’t look suspicious. Everyone was in the living room busy doing their own thing. Levi was so engrossed in his game, Asmo was scrolling through his Devilgram, Satan was reading another cursed book, Mammon was checking the stocks and bets he placed, while the twins were just talking together. Hopefully they’d be too busy to notice the prank you’re dared to pull. In all honesty, you were curious on how Lucifer would react to such a prank since you’re sure this hasn’t been done in Devildom. There’s also this lingering dread when you think about any possible punishment if this went wrong.

You saw Lucifer walk in, and you took this opportunity by approaching him with the pasta in your mouth. “Hey Lucifer, could you do me a favor?” You asked, trying not to sound weird when you speak. 

Lucifer turned to your direction, a brow raised. “Hm?”

You turned around and pointed at your spine, “Slept weird last night. Could you crack my back?” 

It’s an odd request, but Lucifer obliged either way as he approached you. “Alright, come here,” arms were wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to help out with your back. 

CRACK!

You bit the pasta just in time, but you couldn’t even fall limp like planned when you suddenly felt your feet get lifted off the ground. Lucifer is holding you up like a dog, the panic is evident in his wide eyes. “What was that…?” He warned you several times of a demon’s strength, he even told you about how a demon at full speed could kill you upon impact. Did he overestimate how fragile you are that he broke your spine? He hardly used any strength!

You heard Levi yell as he surprisingly saw what happened, and he scrambled to your side immediately. “L-L-LUCIFER WHAT DID YOU DO?! WAS THAT THEIR SPINE?!” You could swear he’s going to cry. 

Mammon was faster though, and he grabbed you into his arms away from his older brother. “Are ya okay?! Shit, it’s probably in their insides or somethin’… OI, make room!” He barked at the twins as he carried you to sit on the couch. 

“I don’t think you should move too much…” Beel looked afraid of touching you after he witnessed what Lucifer did, because if something as harmless as that could hurt you then he feels like he could snap your bones just by patting your back. 

Belphie has this concerned look for you, then it became something sour as he scowled at Lucifer. “I never knew you could be this ruthless.” He hissed. Of course he would take this chance to insult his oldest sibling. 

Satan came rushing to your side, sitting awfully close to you as he took a look at your back. “Where did it hurt?” He asked as his middle and pointer finger began tracing and feeling each vertebrae of your spine. “Do you feel any pain here?” Satan probed as he gently pressed on a certain spot on your back where Lucifer cracked it, causing you to arch it and squirm in place. 

“Hey, if anyone should be touching them it should be me!” Asmo said as he sits in between you and Satan, holding you so delicately in his chest. “Oh my poor darling… Did those barbarians hurt you? Maybe you should let me have a look under your shirt and—“

“Oi! I don’t like where you’re goin’!” 

All of this happened while you had a piece of pasta in your mouth. You could hardly say anything while the brothers began to bicker and fight, so you interrupted them by spitting out the broken piece of pasta onto the palm of your hand. “I-i’m fine I swear!” You claimed before this argument could get out of hand. “It’s a stupid dare from Solomon, but I’m not broken or anything…” 

The room was terrifyingly quiet as they processed all of what you just told them. Their hearts would’ve stopped beating if they found out you were hurt, and this seemed like a lot of stress than it was worth. They berated Lucifer all for nothing, while he was worried that he might’ve hurt you. Now hearing that it was all a little prank got him popping a vein.

“I see,” Lucifer has this smile, though there was absolutely no light in his eyes as he looked at you. “So you thought it was a clever little prank, hm?” You could practically feel electricity in the air. One by one, the brothers began to disperse as Lucifer approached you. 

“I-it was a little dare and–” 

A gloved hand interrupted you, holding your chin and making you look up at him before you could mumble any more excuses that you hoped could spare you some mercy. Though you knew there was no way he’d give you that now, and you could tell you were definitely getting more than just a lecture.  “I think some corrective discipline is in order, little lamb. Come to my room, now.”

[brucewaynehater101]

That Wingless Wing AU, I’m guessing that it’s probably like a 25-75 of whether people have wings or not? Because otherwise Jack and Janet wouldn’t hate the idea of wings, because they’d be normal, expected.

Anyway, what would the wings look like? Would they be regular bird wings? Angel wings? Bat wings? Dragon or devil wings? Any and all combinations? What do you think everyone’s wings would look like, and is there any meaning behind them?

Also, if the Joker removed Tim’s wings, I can only guess that it would leave a NASTY couple of scars. It would be easy enough to hide them… at least until Tim gets injured. How do the Batfam react when they realize what happened?

Finally, you specifically used the word “hybrid” to refer to winged people. Does that mean they have other instincts/characteristics, and are there other types of hybrids?

(Sorry it’s such a long ask!)

Og post for anyone who wants to check it out!

Fantastic questions! Let's get into it ^^

I didn't think about specifics for winged/hybrid population distribution, but it would be on the lower side. Less than 50%, but you could play the Drakes' attitude as a common sentiment of rich folk (something about dehumanization, lack of rights, history, increased prevalence of hybrids, etc).

In Gotham, the social attitude about hybrids is better. The Waynes are famous for their wings, after all, and Martha Wayne had gorgeous wing decorations/jewelry.

As far as wing type, it depends on how far you want the AU to go. For this one specifically, it's simpler for there to only be winged hybrids. This still opens the AU for tons of exploration on the types of wings each person has (although, I'm curious if Penguin is a hybrid and how that works).

Overall, their instincts/needs/behaviors are similar. There may be some small distinctions (like wing type care or personality), but they all desire connection, a nest (both in a metaphorical "home" sense and a physical cuddling space), helping their loves ones, preening, and calls/coos/vocal stuff (not all of them are birds). Add more if you'd like!

Dick's wings are colorful. He's also more vocal and cuddly. He's often cooing and being physically affectionate with others (such as rubbing his face against someone else like some birds do).

Jason's were white. Because of his inability to take care of them, they were grey/dirty and wilted at first. If you want to hc the Lazarus Pits gave him his wings back, then they came back black (like a crow or raven).

Oof.... So I know I said Joker saw Tim as a bird with his wings... But I really love the idea of Tim having dragon wings. They had holes and were shriveled due to his constant disuse and the amulet. The wings he makes for Robin are mechanical bird ones, but he does miss his own wings.

Cass isn't a hybrid, but she does understand the others' instincts. She gets eerily good at mimicking different calls and will be first to drag someone into the nest.

Steph has gorgeous bird wings that are one vibrant color. Purple sounds like a cop out, so maybe a midnight blue or deep pastel yellow.

Damian and all of the al Ghuls have bat wings. Bruce, on the other hand, has red wings that he uses black temp die for patrols.

Jim Gordon doesn't have wings. He would not have made it to Commissioner if he did (anti-hybrid sentiment has gotten better, but not enough). I can't decide if Barbara should have wings or not. Either way, she can't use them when she becomes paralyzed :(

Duke's wings are either orange or yellow with cool black highlights and patterns to them ^^

Alfred is not a hybrid, but he was in a thruple with Martha and Thomas Wayne. He helped them with their preening and helped Bruce (and later all the batkids) as well

I could give all of them specific meanings behind their wings/what animal they are closest to, but not now. Instead! Let's get into Tim's scars.

TW: wing removal, torture, JJ

The Joker was not kind nor careful about the removal. The pain and gore were as much the point as the removal themselves. Tim still wakes up choking on his breath over the feeling of his wings being removed. The physical pain, emotional, and hybrid instinct hell were brutal for the kid.

The scars were gnarly, but his parents paid for treatments to lessen how much they etched into Tim's skin. By the end, they were a bit thinner and paler. They were still very visible but not as painful to look at.

For humor and angst sake, let's say the batfam learns about Tim's missing spleen. He shows off the scar and shrugs.

The others are having a reasonable breakdown over Tim losing his spleen when one of them asks, "Have you lost any more body parts?"

Tim pauses too long.

The Bats freak out some more.

[zombie-eats-world]

So I’ve been thinking about the widespread belief that Luffy wouldn’t give a single fuck about a reveal of his mother. (And I’m a crocodad fanatic so I’ll be treating that like it’s canon but this all should apply to any reveal, Crocodile or not)

This isn’t me trying to hard argue against Luffy not caring about his mother, it’s a huge possibility but I just feel like people say it with a lot of unearned confidence. The belief seems to come from how Luffy reacted to the reveal of Dragon being his dad. And Luffy not caring about a father makes a lot of sense when you consider his experiences. I mean just look at the male role models in his life!

Garp comes and goes as he pleases, just showing up to knock him in the head, share a meal, and then disappears. Shanks was much the same until he left for literally the last time Luffy would ever see him to date. His male figures leave him to follow their own passions, even Ace did the second he came of age. And Luffy isn’t upset by this, he accepts this as a normal part of life. Men go off and find their adventure, that’s just what men do.

(Btw Im not trying to make this a claim that Luffy doesn’t think girls shouldn’t go off on their adventures, just that this is Luffy’s experience with his male role models and how he’d justify it)

So this is why I think it makes sense that Luffy was so uncaring about his father being revealed to him. Dragon did what Luffy would expect a father figure to do, he showed up for a minute to help, and then left unceremoniously. Luffy doesn’t need to give anymore thought to it or to Dragon.

But, this is where I begin to question the assumptions that Luffy also wouldn’t care about his mother.

Luffy has a very different relationship with the female role models in his life.

Makino was a constant in his young life, providing a safe space for him to hang around. Makino from the little we see of her was incredibly caring and maternal to a young Luffy. Even after Luffy got moved to the mountains, she’d make the effort to visit and bring him new clothes. Her kindness and motherly care extended to Luffy’s new brothers too!

Then there is Dadan who, while not proactively or overtly caring, shows how much she cares for her boys by actively protecting them when a real threat appears and always making sure to check in on them. Her contribution to raising Luffy can’t be understated.

And probably the biggest influence on Luffy, Ace himself. The man who loves and deified his mother. I have zero doubts that Ace talked about his mother to Luffy at least once. I don’t think I’m crazy for believing this could have had an influence on Luffy.

This has been my long winded way of saying I think Luffy might care about a reveal of his mother. I think he’d be curious about why his mother didn’t stick around, where they’d been, and what adventure had kept them away.

Anyway, I’d love to hear any thoughts anyone else has on this subject.

[nina-renmen]

Sorry for spam liking your fics yesterday I'm new here and rlly love your fics 😭!!

Could you do a hc's on how pickle would react to the reader dancing to beautiful liars by Beyonce ft. Shakira?

Also hope you're taking care of yourself 🙏🏾💕

No worries Anon! And thank you, I have been taking care of myself 💕💕

Pickle X Reader Dancing to beautiful liars

Pickle was in his arena like always, he either sat, slept or killed something that was brought to him. But curiosity spiked within him, the sound of something unusual and the sound of footsteps. But no one was coming.

So with a small grunt, Pickle lazily stood up and walked over to the small noise. You were oblivious, your headphones leaked a lot of music but you never thought it would be enough to attract someone.

Y/n swayed their hips, softly singing the lyrics. Their voice was pretty, it was pretty like a hummingbird, and they seemed fragile. It was as if they would break with a touch. With a small twirl y/n was startled by the giant primitive man. They shreiked. Without thinking they reeled their/his/her fist back and punched his face. Pickles nose bled as he stepped back, putting his hand underneath his nose and touching the blood.

Y/n still hadn’t realized who he was. They/he/she only seen him on the news once and forgot his face right after that. So with quick motions y/n pulled out a handkerchief and put it under his nose wiping the blood.

“I-I’m sorry! My headphones were so loud I didn’t even hear you.” Y/n fretted as Pickle looked down at her. They/he/she was taking care of him. Pickles eyes sparkled as y/n continued wiping off the blood until he stopped bleeding. “I’m sorry.” They/he/she apologized once more, They/he/she took a step back to retrieve their phone but he picked up their headphones first.

Pickle gave a curious look at the headphones. It was some type of cord that plugged into a small box. Y/n gasped when he stood up straight making her stand up straight as well so it wouldn’t look like she were cowering in fear. But because of that the music ‘Beautiful Liars’ blasted through her phone. Echoing throughout the stone hallway they were in.

Pickle looked down at the phone at the same time y/n did. The two reached down quickly to grab it before the other but unfortunately Pickle had grabbed it.

“Give it back!” Y/n exclaimed reaching up for the phone that Pickle had took. It was weird to him, people were in this small box. But where were they? Pickle shook the phone making it accidentally slip out of his fingers. With quick reflexes y/n grabbed it and stepped back, turning off their phone. But a notification popped up.

‘Pickle, the primitive man has killed an endangered tiger.’ It read, showing a picture of Pickle.

Y/n’s eyes widened seeing the picture of pickle and looking back up at the primitive man. It was the same person. Pickle tilted his head to the side, picking up the headphones that lied on the floor. He opened his mouth to eat it.

“N-No! B-Bad boy! That’s a very bad boy!” Y/n exclaimed. Pickle stopped opening his mouth, a whine erupted from him giving Y/n enough time to pull their headphones out from his hands.

“This is not food!” Y/n continued to scold until they/he/she yelped. Pickle had picked them up, throwing them over his shoulder and began walking back to the arena. “L-let me down!” Y/n exclaimed. Sure, they were a fighter but there’s no way in hell they’d try and engage in a battle with pickle.

Pickle sat down, pulling her to his lap. Y/n Sat frozen, what were they to do? Should she/he/ they stay? Should they try and run? As y/n was analyzing the situation in their head, Pickle tapped their phone. His nail making a ‘tap, tap’ noise against their phone screen.

Y/n sat there confused but turned on the phone. Pickle only grumbled, tapping the phone again. ‘Does he want the music?’ Y/n thought as they punched in their passcode and began to play the song. Pickle brought his hand away from theirscreen. And only snaked his hands around Y/n’s waist, pulling them closer to him.

Y/n would never realize this but now, whenever Pickle hears the song Beautiful Liars’ He thinks of Y/n.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Capture

@jegulus-microfic December 24, Word count 586

Previous part First part

Regulus glowered at the pair of them. Had James planned this? Was his plan to make him part of his ridiculous pranks? Was Sirius in on it? 

Regulus turned to storm away, but James’s hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. Regulus’s head snapped in James’s direction, ready to demand he release him. Regulus paused when he saw the pleading look in James’s eyes. He let his shoulders relax and watched as James’s chest expanded with a shuddering breath. 

“I’m not ashamed of you, love,” James said earnestly, shocking both Regulus and Peter by the looks of it. “We’re just getting to know each other, but I think it’s serious,” 

“Mate, that’s Regulus,” Peter snickered, interrupting James before he could say more. Regulus rolled his eyes, and James groaned. Apparently, his brother was still using that tired joke. 

“Peter,” James sighed. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. So… Are we telling Sirius, or is it a secret?” Regulus felt a wave of cold rush through him. Sirius wouldn’t react well. They hated each other and the fact that James was not only his best friend but a boy as well. They’d both heard the spiteful hate their parents spouted about that. He was sure Sirius would say the same as they had. 

“Not yet. It’s still so new and, well, you know, Sirius,” James joked, trying to lighten the mood. Peter nodded knowingly, and something passed between the two Gryffindors that Regulus didn’t understand, and then Peter was smiling at him, and honestly, that was the worst part of this whole ordeal. He did not need people looking at him like he was adorable or something. 

He was planning on spitting out something scathing when they heard the scuff of a shoe. 

“Filch! Quick run!” James hissed. He dragged Regulus to the left, and Peter went right. Regulus looked over his shoulder after a few steps, and Peter was gone. He didn’t have time to ponder on it when James pulled him behind another tapestry. This really was becoming a common occurrence, not that he was complaining. 

James took a ratty-looking scrap of parchment out and held it up to the sliver of light coming in from around the edges of the tapestry and let out a relieved sigh. “He’s gone the other way; we should be safe to go in a minute,” Regulus tried to get a better look at the parchment, but James hurriedly stuffed it back in his pocket. 

“What’s that?” Regulus asked, far too curious. James stiffened beside him. “Let me guess, it’s one of those secrets you have with my brother that I’m not allowed to know about?”

“I’m sorry. I want to show it to you, I really do, but Sirius, Remus and Peter would all have to be alright with it and…” Regulus sighed, deciding to let it go for now. He realised how closely they were standing together again, and flashes of their last encounter played behind his eyes. James must have been thinking the same thing as his next breath came out ragged. Regulus leaned up on his tiptoes to capture James’s lips. 

James wrapped his arms around him and drew him closer. Regulus thought about James’s words to Peter. He was right. This did feel like it was about to get serious, and he didn’t know whether he should be elated or scared shitless. All thoughts were swiped away when James’s hand snuck under his shirt, and Regulus’s attention was wholly focused on James.  

Next part

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Well, dear mutual, I'm curious to what you think Ink's and Killer's dynamic would be? I always like hearing other peoples opinions on these things since there's things I may miss (even if they differ from my own)! Especially considering they fought once, I wonder how that would influence things...

Here's a kitty for your time! ❤️💕

Ooohh cute kitty!! (The petting motions r doing something nice for my brain.)

Also I mentioned briefly in asks about Error & Killer where I figured that Ink would find Killer hilarious and cool & thats the exact reason why he’s tryna convince error not to kill Killer.

So yeah I basically envision this thing where Error & Ink are basically lonely asf and also Error wants to piss off Nightmare so he snatches up Killer whenever the fuck he wants to.

And Killer’s like, “this is a fever dream. Might as well happen,” whenever Ink questions him about why he seems so okay with it. (And also Killer wants to spite NM too lmao.)

So like, I imagine that Error, Ink, and Killer just chill in the Anti-Void and this is basically what Killer’s enforced breaks look like. Error’s ranting and raving, either about his tv show or ink or nightmare or what have you. Ink’s sitting on the floor and drawing to his non existence heart’s content.

And Killer’s just staring off into the distance, dissociated as hell, petting his cats in an effort to stay grounded. Error was surprisingly nice enough to let him have the bean bag.

And I can see like a little moment where ink gets too excited, throws up in killer’s lap, and also makes a wide gesture too close to killer that has him instinctively lashing out and stabbing ink.

And killer freezes for a moment, wondering what’s about to happen—almost excited even—only for error to start bitching at ink for throwing up on his beanbag chair & ink’s is laughing it off while removing the knife from their arm.

Says something like he’s gonna keep it, only killer immediately reaches out and snatches his knife back, snapping that it’s his, not Ink’s. Keep your hands off his shit unless you wanna lose them.

And Ink just laughs, not bothered by it, comments that this is the most reaction they’ve gotten out of him in weeks. From what Ink knows of Killer, he was expecting him to be more talkative. To which Killer probably says something like, “find me on a work day then.”

And then what Ink said catches up to him, and suddenly Killer asks, “what do you know about me.”

And maybe that prompts a discussion about Players and Creators and AUs and the like. And Killer realizes that Ink knows more about him than he knows about himself. Such as what is and isn’t real.

Maybe Ink can offer him some clarity, somehow. Maybe through their drawings and art and the like.

As for the fact that they have fought before. Id imagine that killer would be more on edge at first, even if it may not seem that way. Watching Ink, observing him—trying to see if they have any hang ups about it. If Ink is going to be a problem for him. He’d love to hash it out. (Violently. With knives.)

But Killer doesn’t really wanna go back to Nightmare and he doubts Error is gonna take him back until he wants to, so instead Killer just doesn’t react in one way or another. Not wanting to express anything about himself until he knows what he’s dealing with.

And I’m sure ink knows something is up, but I doubt they’d place that much care into the fighting—especially if he already has forgotten them by this point. I mean, he’s chilling with Error. I doubt hed have a problem with any squabbles between themself and Killer.

I think they’d develop this chaotic friendship where they just kinda get eachother, you know. Ink understands Killer’s emotionlessness, Killer understands Ink’s memory issues. I’d highly doubt they’d have any issues with eachother that most tend to have with them—such as the typical interpretation of Ink being “too much” or “too hyper,” and I feel like Killer would just play into ink’s energy.

And I feel like Killer wouldn’t really feel any need to mask his apathy or sense of emotionlessness around ink, mostly because ink doesn’t really seem to mind when killer is quiet or unresponsive and not actively pretending to be someone he’s not—ink is willing to do whatever talking needed. And even if killer has a hard time paying attention or remembering what ink is talking about, he never tells ink to shut up either.

The two of them having meta awareness may also affect things.

Also, I’m pretty sure the both of them struggle with empathy—and killer at least is known for pushing boundaries, wanting to test and poke and prod to understand things—and yet very protective of his own “red lines”. So I’m sure this may show up as a rocky point in their relationship at some point, just like with error and killer, but I’m not quite sure how.

Ink may find themself often being stabbed, simply because Killer’s body often tends to react on instinct. So I’m sure they’ll eventually learn to keep some distance between themselves.

Ink may consider Killer a friend, Killer at most would probably say he finds Ink interesting. (They’re besties I swear. Killer just doesn’t understand friendship 😔 )

Anyway. More knowledgeable Ink fans are always free to comment on or expand/change wherever you think is needed.

( @toffeebrew ).

[whateverisbeautiful]

Are u going to do a Richonne in Retrospect for TOWL? How do you feel about the show breaking up the friendship with Michonne and Maggie? How do you think Richonne would react to Daryl leaving to find them? What do you think about a TWD season 12?

Thanks for these questions! I hadn’t thought about doing Richonne in Retrospect for TOWL. I’m really looking forward to rewatching TOWL when it comes to Nextflix next month tho and since it’s been a minute since my last rewatch I know watching it again will stir up even more thoughts and observations than the hundreds I’ve already had. Depending on what additional thoughts come to me I know I probably won’t be able to resist putting it in writing and sharing it here. 😊 Wrote out my response to the rest of the questions below ⬇️💗:

How do you feel about the show breaking up the friendship with Michonne and Maggie?

When it comes to Michonne and Maggie, I think it was definitely sad to see the sour note that ended on because they did seem to have a sweet friendship at one point. They could have been a real support system to each other as they navigated raising sons who both (at the time) weren’t getting to have their fathers in their lives.

However, when some of us say that team family sorta stopped feeling like family at some point, I think Maggie is an example of that as someone who still loved the group but definitely branched off into other territories. Which is fine, it’s just sad thatshe didn’t even want to inform Michonne about her going off to establish community elsewhere and that their friendship remained fractured.

I stand by thinking that Maggie had every right to feel hurt that Rick made the executive decision to spare Negan. Where Maggie loses me tho, is in how she went about navigating her hurt by going behind Rick and Michonne’s back. If Maggie had stayed post-Rick’s departure, I’d be curious how Michonne and Maggie would or wouldn’t reconcile their friendship after everything that went down.

How do you think Richonne would react to Daryl leaving to find them?

I might be wrong but I think I saw some people clarify that Daryl hadn’t left at the end of TWD with the primary goal of looking for Rick and Michonne but instead was on some mission from Maggie? And during his travels, he told Judith he’ll be on the lookout for her parents as well? I only saw the series finale once and none of the other spin-offs so I really don’t know the specifics with that. But either way, I believe Daryl was hoping to potentially locate them while he was out and I think Rick and Michonne would appreciate that Daryl wanted to find them.

I think if he’s been gone for a lot longer than expected, they’d worry about him and they’d want him to come back home. But Rick and Michonne would know that they need to stay home with their kids and they’d probably trust that Carol will be successful in finding him. Maybe someone can fill me in - when Carol reunites with Daryl in their show do they at all imply that she knows Rick and Michonne are back home? 

What do you think about a TWD season 12?

I wouldn't be crazy about a TWD Season 12. I would watch for Rick and Michonne but I personally think it would be a better idea to wrap everything up with a TOWL Season 2 instead. And I don’t just think that cuz I'm biased about Richonne even tho I am biased about Richonne. 😋

I think TWD already has such a reputation as neverending and a lot of people are weary about this franchise not knowing when to hang it up. A Season 12 will attract the most loyal in their fanbase but would likely be viewed negatively overall. Especially if they just repeat some of the bad habits new TWD developed.

But if they did a TOWL Season 2 where they maybe make it 8-10 eps instead of 6 and they keep Rick and Michonne the main characters at the forefront while including familiar faces from the TWD cast, that could have a more successful result imo. Rather than feel like a stale continuation, TOWL was a refreshing improvement and promoting a season 2 that incorporates important TWD characters could feel more fresh and exciting than stale and drawn out.

As talented as the TWD ensemble is and has been since the start, Rick Grimes is the franchise’s ultimate protagonist and so ensuring that the season is still built around him and Michonne will keep the story focused and grounded. That'd be key - TOWL season 2 still should be Rick and Michonne's and the cast shouldn’t be bloated with a hodgepodge of characters and storylines. I know expanding and continuing the TWDU has become the network’s priority so I doubt that they’d want to wrap everything up or even be able to wrap everything up in a TOWL season 2 now that timelines and locations are so widespread. But in my mind that'd be a good way to close out the franchise. Let Rick and Michonne band with their family to take on one last major threat (a threat that should feel unique and not just a rehashing of former big bads) and save the world one last time.

If they can do that in a way that includes tight compelling storytelling from beginning to end, I’d want that. Especially just to be able to know for certain that this story is officially closed and the actors can get their flowers for playing roles that saw a confirmed beginning, middle, and end (and end doesn’t mean death, I gotta just make sure I put that out there lol. Cuz I only want Rick and Michonne to return if they get to both live long lives). But if not, then TOWL Season One’s final note is great as is. 👌🏽

[paingoes]

Rubies

Waiting Room

hello! so i actually wrote this a while back but couldn’t think of a right time to post it. this takes place on the same day as First Base, but it’s a different POV!

(Content: living weapon whumpee, discussions of war and child soldiers, implied child abuse, dehumanization)

“I’ve got it,” Kitty made a little circle with her fingers. O.K. They were escorted away before Apollo could respond.

“Okay. I’m gonna go…beg for his life, I guess,” Apollo said into the empty space she’d just been standing in.

“I’ll go with you,” Iza piped up. At least she didn’t leave him hanging. Apollo was surprised by her eagerness, but he knew it was the correct move on her part. It’d be better to seek Levon out than the other way around. He would not react well if he felt he’d had to catch them.

For better or worse, it did not take long for their paths to intersect. Levon was already out in the hall. One woman from the counsel hung by his side. They spoke in low tones. She was one of the few people on base that matched Levon in age and in history. She shot the two of them a dirty look as they approached.

“Oh, speak of the devil.” Levon lifted his hands up in greeting, a sardonic smile appearing upon his face. He couldn’t hold it any longer then a second. His expression quickly fell back into its fatigue state. Not exactly angry, but clearly not pleased. The woman slipped off into the shadows, patting him lightly on the back before she departed. 

“It’s my fault,” Apollo put himself between Levon and Iza. “I take full responsibility.”

“Not how it works, kiddo. Chain of command.” Levon looked straight past him.

Iza did not say anything in her own defense. Levon shot her a curious look. It had meant something that she’d come to find him and that she had not come to argue the point. It was a good start. They could talk later. They would.

But Apollo clearly needed a wall to throw himself against. Levon started to move down the hall again. He wasn’t totally shutting him out, but he had better make his point quick. He’d had it so rehearsed before, but the words sounded hurried this time, more uncertain than ever. 

“Captain, it’s not his fault. You understand that. He didn’t have a choice. It’s not fair to punish him for what Empire did. You can’t hold that against him. You won’t, right? What we did, it has nothing to do with him. He didn’t know. He still doesn’t know. He just woke up. He-“

Levon held up a hand, “I thought you had a powerpoint.”

“I do,” Apollo admitted, “I can go get it if you give me five minutes.”

“That’s alright.”

“Captain!” Apollo hissed. They’d already arrived just outside of the ward. 

“Please don’t hurt him.”

It was such an earnest and simple request that Levon’s resolve momentarily cracked.

“Take it easy. Whatever I decide, I’m not going to do it right now. Save your breath.”

“He’s scared, Levon.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re not the only person in the world who knows right from wrong? That I might actually know what I’m doing?”

Apollo shut up. Iza put a hand on his shoulder, both to steady him and to pull him back. Levon signaled to the medical staff to clear out just before he stepped into Delta’s room.

==========

Levon stepped back out into the lobby, shutting the door quickly behind him. There was a deep unhappiness in his features.

Apollo’s face was marred with concern. It had been for as long as he had waited there. But as he caught sight of Levon’s haunted expression, it slipped into a barely suppressed smugness. I told you so.

In the same way, Levon’s horror flickered briefly into exasperation as the two made eye contact.

“You didn’t say he was a baby,” Levon insisted. He realized instantly that the effect would be lost on Apollo. Levon often felt that he was surrounded by children. He maintained his own inner circle, each of them tending to their own sector, but all the rank and file skewed young. Apollo was no exception to this, hardly tipping twenty four, but then Apollo’s career had just begun. Delta’s star had been burning ever since he was a child.

Levon forgot any thoughts of penalty. He couldn’t reasonably hold him accountable for things he had done as a child. Delta was a ward of Empire. It was their fault. 

Apollo searched Levon’s expression, still seeming a bit too satisfied with himself.

“You’re not off the hook,” Levon told him.

“I know, Captain,” he said mildly, “Is he?”

Levon leaned against the wall. He palmed at his forehead in hopes of relieving the tension building up there.

“I don’t understand the child soldier thing. I’ve never understood it. Why? Is there that much of a shortage that they can’t fish from the adult pool anymore? What purpose does it serve?” Levon didn’t hide his disgust. Empire already recruited teenagers as a matter of policy, but there had been more and more reports of them dipping even lower. He’d gotten reports of combatants as fresh as twelve stumbling blindly into enemy territory. They’d be found limping and with blisters from where their oversized boots had rubbed them raw. They had to be carried out.

Iza spoke up. Levon was surprised to hear her speak. She’d been hanging back, trying to make herself unseen, as if he might bite her. 

“Kids have more raw psychic talent than adults. They lose it as they get older. It’s rare

you find someone who’s been trained enough to carry their abilities into adulthood. You need to start them young,” she mused.

The clarity with which she spoke of it was incriminating.

���Tell me the truth,” Levon said, “Did you know?”

“We suspected,” Apollo admitted, “Strongly.”

“And what? You wanted it for yourself?” 

“No.“ Apollo’s voice got all pitchy, the way it did when he was upset. “How can you even think that?”

“You?” Levon ignored his indignation, turning his gaze to Iza.

“Me?” Iza asked. She let some softness creep into her voice, “I didn’t want anything. I thought it would be a good experiment. I thought you might get something out of it. But I knew you’d never want to use it, not the way they did. I know you.”

Levon relaxed in a way that was barely observable. He took a deep breath.

“You are very, very lucky this didn’t go worse. Do I even have to tell you all the nightmare scenarios that could have unfolded instead? If you had gotten caught? If he had detonated? The standard response for this kind of insubordination is automatic and permanent dismissal. Were you aware of that?”

Neither of them answered. It was a wise thing to do.

“However.” Levon continued. “Things are about to get very, very bad for us. Early reports say the civil war is over. The prince’s staff sold him out. Nezu is preparing to be coronated and he now runs unopposed. We will not have the advantage of a divided Empire anymore. All the heat is going to be on us. For that reason, I’m disinclined to let you go entirely.”

Again, neither of them spoke. Apollo put all his energy into keeping his face neutral.

“…Thank you.” Iza’s voice was low. 

“Don’t,” Levon denied the moment, “I haven’t decided what I’m doing with you yet. All I’m saying is you’re not kicked out. What I do might be worse. You — you are going to go apologize to him for putting him in this situation.”

“I will!” Apollo answered quickly, “I mean, I did. But I’ll do it again. He’s okay, right? You’re not gonna do anything to him?”

“He’s fine,” Levon waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it.”

Apollo looked as though he might collapse on the spot. All the tension that had been holding him up was not depleted. He was relieved, but more than that, he was exhausted. Stress was going to take all of them out before Empire ever could.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @pigeonwhumps

[sufferu]

Honestly with the way your portraying Rem - which I really appreciate because she is really fucked up & it makes her relationship with Subaru fascinating, especially with outsider POV’s looking in -I’m quite curious how the cast will react to the From Zero speech and the toxic heroism mentality that installs in Subaru since the Dogshow cast actually feel human in how they react to things instead of reacting to something like how a character would. I’d honestly also be curious how many people would actually agree with Subaru’s wish to run away which is to them basically trying to protect himself from further death & trauma since they’d not know how the Sloth IF turns out.

Also, something totally unrelated but. Since you were talking about Romantic relationships in BTZ it made me wonder… do you have any plans for Subaru in No Refunds to actually enter a romantic relationship at some point or do you just genuinely think he’s too damaged for it? If the question is spoiler territory, sorry for pushing there, I just found it interesting how other peoples perceptions of Subaru changing so radically might impact his ability to form a connection on that level since they likely consider Subaru mentally disabled with his AWFUL survival instincts, not to mention a horribly traumatized mess even without the mental disability.

Glad you like it :D

Yeah the best way I can describe their reaction to the From Zero speech is…complicated. Cause the thing is — on one hand, no, they don’t think that Subaru running away to marry Rem is a good idea, at all, because they do not have a good opinion of her right now, and also they were totally expecting her to take this opportunity and run with it, so the fact that she actually refused his offer is a shockingly pleasant surprise. Plus, she legitimately does help Subaru pick himself up when nobody else could snap him out of his spiral, she DOES manage to do that. …But on the other hand…yeah, they’re probably not huge fans of the hero complex she helped develop here :/

As for romance in No Refunds — yeah, that’s a spoiler ;) A lot of that story is about characters reassessing who Subaru is and what their relationships with him should be, so…that’s fun! But I guess I can just say — I’m not the type of writer who really cares about romance all that much? Most of the time I actually find platonic relationships much more engaging. (But I will say: in the case that there isn’t a romantic relationship between two characters — it’s not necessarily because he’s too “damaged,” but instead because that may simply…not be what suits their new dynamic best ;))

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Hi, Pom, hope you’re doing okay. I wanted to know what are your thoughts on this ‘some people write Spencer so out of character and take out all his autistic traits and portray him as someone he’s not, especially during sex’ discourse.

Personally I think those people don’t understand his character very well and don’t see how much he changes through the seasons but I also know that everyone perceives characters differently so there isn’t a correct way to write him.

But I’m curious about your thoughts on it. I’ve seen some comments about the topics a writer prefers to write about (again, specially with smut) and I think they can be harmful for other writers (I’ve also noticed most come from adults that aren’t in their 20s yet so that says something too 😅)

I feel like I rambled too much but I hope I’ve made my point!

Much love❤️

Hi, friend! I’m doing alright, thank you for asking. As an autistic person, I obviously have quite a few personal feelings about any discourse regarding “appropriate” or “correct” behavior for an autistic person in any context. I’ll start my answer by saying that autistic people are not a monolith. We each have our own preferences, personalities, and experiences. I can only speak to my own.

I don’t actually think that anyone is reading Spencer’s character “wrong” because I don’t think the writers are entirely consistent within canon. I also don’t think anyone is obligated to acknowledge or appreciate all aspects of canon. So, I agree with you that everyone can write him however they’d like.

I also agree with you that any post disparaging other writers’ style or work is harmful and entirely unnecessary. It is mean-spirited and inappropriate. Perhaps it’s my age, but it has always been my understanding that, when you engage with a fandom, you are joined by people of all experience levels and backgrounds. There will be people with niche interests. There will be people who write things you hate. It’s inevitable.

The core of a fandom is how we handle those disagreements. I personally choose to live and let live. I see no point in hurting other people. It’s not required in order for me to enjoy my time here.

In a world where everyone is constantly tearing each other down, I would rather be a cheerleader. I would encourage others to try not to engage in these conversations and simply choose to lift up those writers you love and appreciate, instead. We’re here to have fun, after all!

P.S. It’s very silly to claim any portrayal of Spencer in a sexual situation is “out of character” because they do not ever show us his sexual behavior. Believe whatever you want to about how he would react. He’s not real. It doesn’t matter whether someone enjoys imagining him a different way. What does matter is that cruel criticisms over specific sexual preferences will hurt actual, real people. If you want to argue about sexual morality, do it somewhere else. Fandom is not the place. While I have replied to harmful sentiments before, I don’t encourage it. It will open you up to very unfortunate and often triggering interactions with strangers over a vulnerable topic. You deserve better than that. My best advice is disengage & block.

(Finally, because this is a contentious topic, I feel obligated to remind everyone of my philosophy on anonymous hate so we don’t waste each other’s time.)

[cyn-if]

I'm curious how would the RO react to MC absolutely furious at them for assuming stuff about them for being a corruptan and MC yelling at them that the only people they have killed are the ones that tried to kill them.

The main thing about that potential interaction is how the ROs deal with the MCs anger.

Everix would do their best to be understanding, trying to bring up that they don’t think of the MC that way at all.

Hayes would try to keep emotions out of it, in a noncommittal kind of way. But they’d also feel like shit and would admit they were wrong. The other thing that Hates would be is scared. Their fear would be shoved down, but noticeable to the MC

Sam’s reaction to this potential is a spoiler, so I’m not going to share.

Quinn would stand her ground, but would indeed concede that (depending on the MC) she was wrong. However if the MC does indeed commit more typically “evil” acts she wouldn’t, trying to point out to the MC that they are feeding into the sterotype themself.

Maverick doesn’t really see Corruptants as “evil.” So the MC blowing up on him for this reason would only scare him.

[vendetta-if]

I just found your account and couldn't get enough, thank you so much for taking your time to write this masterpieces! I am kind of curious will there be multiple bad ending for each RO's route? Maybe some estimate of how many endings there will be, because I am sure as hell will be trying to get all of them LOL

Also how would the RO's react to MC (post relationship) who got into a comatose state (for maybe a month or more) after protecting them from an attack before finally waking up? How miserable are they before MC wakes up? And how they react when MC finally wake up from their coma? Maybe add papa Victor, uncle Luka, Grandpa, and Yvette too if you can? Thank you so much~~~

Thank you so much for the kind words! 🙏😊 Right now, I’m not too sure on how many variations of the endings there will be since it’s still a while away 🤔

Right now, the “bad endings”—so as to speak—for the 3 ROs will have to do with what future path your MC decides to choose at the end since there will be some paths that Rin, Santana, and Skylar wouldn’t want to follow MC, and they would break up with MC instead.

I’ve touched upon it ages ago and the paths are actually listed in the Character List in the pinned post. Basically, Rin & Santana wouldn’t follow Superhero MC, Skylar wouldn’t follow Criminal Heir MC, meanwhile Ash would follow MC whatever paths they decide in the end.

I’m glad you’re interested in trying out all of the possible endings though! 😁 I think there might be quite a lot of variations of the endings depending mostly on your RO choice and path choice, not to mention some other decisions later on.

As for the second part of your ask, I’ll do for the ROs only this time because the post is getting too long 😅 But feel free to send me the follow-up ask.

I’ll keep the answers under the cut to save some space!

Ash

They’ll be in agony. Just seeing MC in pain or gets hurt is already really painful for them, but MC in a coma… That’s on a whole other level of distress that’s only short of the distress they would feel over MC’s death. But they’re trying to keep that possibility out of their mind…

Not to mention that MC is in this state because of them. They would be filled with such rage and self-loathing, that even after they have decimated the people responsible for hurting MC, they would still be unsatisfied and agitated because they themself is one of them.

They would spend almost all of their time accompanying MC and it’s hard and near impossible to tear them away from MC’s side. They would spend hours recounting both of their countless adventures… Childhood, teenage years, desperately hoping it would somehow help MC wake up.

Once MC wakes up though, they’ll be so relieved that they would probably cry right there and then from all the emotions. They will gush out apologies to MC over and over again for putting them through this while hugging MC as carefully as they can.

Rin

They’ll be nigh inconsolable. They’ll also be tortured from spending day and night repeating the scene over and over in their head—whether voluntary or not—thinking of countless of different scenarios and outcomes from hundreds of different things they could’ve done to prevent this.

While they would still be doing their responsibilities, they would always make sure to visit MC everyday and accompany them, even playing some of their favorite instrumental music as if it can help MC relax and get better quicker.

Their precognition ability, which is usually their greatest asset, has become their greatest enemy. They don’t want to use it. For the first time in their life, the complete uncertainty brings them a semblance of comfort left, giving them hope. They don’t want to know about the probabilities of MC dying or surviving. And everyday, they hope and pray that no visions of MC’s death ever comes to them.

Once MC wakes up, they’d be so relieved and happy. It feels as if a great weight has been lifted from them. They would smile wistfully as they take MC’s hand in theirs gently, rubbing it comfortingly as they speak to MC soothingly before finally getting the doctor to check on MC.

Santana

They’ll be even more depressed and morose, spending almost all of their break and lunch hours to visit MC everyday, talking to them about their day, pretending that MC can hear them.

They probably wouldn’t be able to focus on their job as well. The Chief would be pissed off but they couldn’t care less. Maybe it’d make a good excuse for them to quit.Their already messy life would get even messier.

They’ll also be consumed by guilt because MC gets into this situation to save them. It doesn’t help that Ash, Rin, Luka, and Grandpa would often send them accusatory side-eye whenever they come to visit MC, and honestly, they agree with them. They’ve never understood why MC would so readily sacrifice their safety—and even probably life—for a nobody like them.

Once MC wakes up, they almost can’t believe themself. Their heart is racing as it soars from the relief and happiness. They’ll quickly get a doctor to check on MC and after that, they’ll talk with MC, starting with how much they miss them before chiding them for getting themself in danger for them.

Skylar

The poor superhero is so distressed that for the duration of MC’s coma, the can only smile in front of the camera and they smiles they muster are ones that are clearly strained.

Just like Santana, they couldn’t focus on their superhero job fully as their mind always wanders back to MC in worry even during their shifts. If Skylar is a less important person, the Agency would have berated them harder and probably threaten to cut contract with them, but thankfully, Skylar is far from someone insignificant.

They spend a lot of time everyday visiting and spending time with MC. They’d talk to MC about various things and sometimes, they’d bring some of their books and read their favorite poems to MC—even some of their own that they have always kept to themself. When they don’t feel like talking, they’ll keep themself busy by drawing and sketching MC or the view outside of the window. Anything that will distract them from the encroaching morbid thoughts.

Once MC wakes up, they’d be so happy and relieved, and for the first time in months, they have a genuine big grin on their face and their eyes even water a bit from the overwhelming emotions. They���d probably try to crack a joke, but it would fall short of its mark. So, instead, they would hug MC, thanking them for saving them and telling them to never do that ever again.

[starset21]

Shift in the Air

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower. THIS IS ALL FICTION. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships.

Warnings: none

WC: 8k

Summery: Casey has a moment with Max, the connection between them developing further and an exciting race takes place

Looking for more? Chasing the Line series masterlist

The grand ballroom of the hotel in Belgium was nothing short of breathtaking. Glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of tuxedos, gowns, and perfectly polished shoes, creating a landscape of opulence and grace. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the delicate strains of a string quartet playing in the corner. It was a night of high society, but there was also something deeper—Wings for Life, the charity supporting spinal cord research, was the night’s true focus. 

Casey Winters, though, was doing her best to disappear into the shadows.

She stood at the edge of the room, slightly away from the crowd, holding a glass of sparkling water in one hand. She wore a navy dress that shimmered slightly in the light, the satin fabric hugging her form perfectly but still allowing her to move with ease. The dress was elegant, simple yet striking—just the kind of understated look she preferred. She wasn’t exactly the center of attention tonight, and she didn’t mind that at all. She scanned the room, taking in the sea of faces, most of which she recognized—sponsors, team principals, drivers from across the motorsport world. Everyone was playing their part in what had become an annual event, one designed not just for charity, but for socializing, networking, and a fair share of self-promotion. The energy was thick with politeness, with subtle power plays, and the faintest undercurrent of competition.

As she glanced around, her eyes landed on him. He was standing near a table of sponsors, engaged in conversation with a few high-profile executives. His confidence was impossible to miss. Even across the room, the way he carried himself, that unmistakable aura of someone who was always in control, stood out. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, his hair styled just enough to look effortless. Max was always commanding attention—on and off the track—but tonight, Casey caught herself looking at him a little longer than usual. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way he moved through the crowd with such casual grace. Or maybe it was the fact that she was realizing just how much time they’d spent together these past few months, racing, traveling the world, getting to know each other.

And then, their eyes met.

Max’s gaze locked with hers across the crowded room, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to stop. It was subtle, but undeniable. There was an intensity in the way he looked at her, something that felt like more than just recognition between teammates. A flicker of something—perhaps curiosity or even... longing?—passed between them. She quickly looked away, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. Great, now I’m imagining things, she thought. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at her drink, trying to shake the feeling. A few seconds later, she heard the familiar sound of Max’s footsteps approaching, and before she could react, he was standing beside her, his expression unreadable but definitely curious.

“Casey Winters, all glammed up,” Max teased, his voice low, his usual playful tone laced with something that felt a little more... personal. He eyed her from head to toe, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary before meeting her eyes again. “I think I’m seeing you in a new light.” Her heart skipped in a way that surprised her. Max had always been confident, often teasing her about her approach to racing, but tonight... something felt different. Casey arched an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “You look good yourself,” she replied, her tone casual, but even she knew it sounded more earnest than she’d intended. Max gave her a slow, appreciative smile, his eyes narrowing as though he were weighing her reaction. “I don’t just mean the dress,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost softer. “You look... different tonight. In a good way.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and for a moment, she was acutely aware of how out of place she felt in this world of glitz and glamour. She wasn’t the type to let compliments like this get to her, but there was something in his words—and the way he said them—that felt more significant than usual. It wasn’t just his casual charm. It was like he saw something deeper. Something that wasn’t just her as a teammate or a competitor, but... her, the person. Her throat felt dry as she shifted her weight. “I wasn’t sure I’d even fit in tonight. All these people in tuxedos and fancy dresses,” she said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Still feels like a bit of a fish-out-of-water moment.”

Max leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping lower as if to keep the conversation between just the two of them. “You don’t need to fit in with anyone, Casey. You stand out, no matter what.” Casey felt a sudden warmth spread through her. She didn’t know what it was about his tone—this new layer of sincerity—but it made her feel like she was being seen in a way she hadn’t expected tonight. Max’s smile was slow but confident. He leaned back slightly, glancing over at the group of sponsors he’d just excused himself from. “But, I guess I’m here for the company. The right company,” he added, his voice lighter now, but the way he said “right company” made her stomach flutter.

Before she could respond, a waiter passed by with a tray of lobster tails, and Max gestured toward it with a knowing look. “And maybe for the food,” he added with a wink. “Though I think the lobster’s a bit overrated.” Casey laughed, feeling some of the tension melt away. For a brief moment, she saw the real Max—a side of him that wasn’t surrounded by the bravado of a world champion, but the man she had come to know as a teammate. Someone who, in his own way, had been looking out for her. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to care about all of this,” she said softly. “The gala. The fancy people. I thought you’d rather be on a race track or at least somewhere... with more horsepower.”

Max’s eyes softened as he met her gaze. There was no trace of teasing now. Just a quiet understanding. “Racing is my world,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But people like you... they’re part of the reason I race. You’re different, Casey. And I think you forget that sometimes.” Casey felt her breath catch. His words hit harder than she expected. She wasn’t used to compliments that went beyond the surface, and this... this felt like something real. Something she didn’t know how to respond to. Max continued, his voice almost a whisper now. “I’m glad you’re here, Casey. It’s good to see you out of the race suit or team kit once in a while.”

Her chest tightened with something—could it be vulnerability? She quickly glanced away, trying to hide the sudden wave of emotion. She couldn’t deny that the connection they shared was becoming more than just professional this last month. She knew that it shouldn’t but finally, she smiled, trying to shrug off the intensity of the moment. “Well, I’m glad you approve. But let’s not forget—this is still your world. I’m just a guest.” Max chuckled, but the warmth in his eyes remained. “I don’t think of you as a guest, Casey. You’ve been here the whole time. Racing with me. And I think... I think that’s what matters.” She didn’t know how to respond to that, but the words hung in the air between them like an invitation. Before she could say anything more, Max glanced over his shoulder at the sponsors he’d left behind. “I should probably go back to them, and perhaps you should go find some to shmooze. But…” He paused, turning back to her. “I’ll save you a dance later. If you’re not too busy charming the entire room.”

Casey’s heart skipped again, though she tried to hide it behind a casual smile. “I’ll hold you to that, Verstappen.” Max’s lips curled into a smile—one that felt like more than just a friendly gesture. “Good. I’ll be waiting,” he said, his voice soft and steady, as if he already knew she’d say yes. He turned and walked away, leaving Casey standing there, her mind whirling. Had she read too much into it? Was she imagining things? The way his eyes had lingered on hers, the softness in his voice—it didn’t feel like just friendly banter anymore. But before she could even begin to process it all, she noticed him glance back over his shoulder, his gaze finding hers one more time across the room. And in that brief moment, she had the distinct feeling that the night was far from over—and neither was whatever was quietly building between them.

The evening continued on as expected. Guests mingled, the wine flowed freely, and the soft hum of conversation mixed with the occasional burst of laughter. But for Casey, the night seemed to drag on. She couldn’t help but feel a little disoriented by her exchange with Max earlier. She’d known Max for months now—had spent countless hours racing alongside him, strategizing, joking, and even bantering back and forth as she gained more confidence in her abilities. But tonight? Tonight, something was off. In a way that felt like it might tip over into something else. Casey wandered across the room after a few more polite exchanges with sponsors. She could feel her nerves slowly easing. The grandeur of the event was starting to fade into the background, and the weight of Max's words had begun to settle into a more manageable, though still heavy, place. She let her gaze drift toward the dance floor, where a few couples were swaying to the music. The soft string quartet played a slow, gentle waltz, and for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to join them—if only to escape the bubble of awkwardness that seemed to have enveloped her. Then, as if on cue, she felt a presence behind her, and before she could turn, she heard his voice.

“You didn’t think I’d forget about that dance, did you?”

Casey’s heart jumped into her throat. She turned to find Max standing there, his expression teasing but with a hint of something else—something unspoken. His eyes glinted with a playful confidence, but there was a tenderness in his smile that made her stomach tighten. The same feeling from earlier had resurfaced—the pull she couldn’t explain. “You’re not backing out, are you?” Max teased, his gaze intense, though his tone was light. Casey’s mouth went dry, but she quickly recovered. “I never back out of a challenge, Verstappen,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Let’s see if you can keep up.” Max laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a slow dance, Casey. But if it’s anything more than that, you might be in trouble.” Her lips curled into a smile. “We’ll see about that.” Max extended his hand toward her, and without hesitation, Casey placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrap around hers. The simple touch sent a jolt of energy through her body, and her pulse quickened. There was no going back now. She could feel the eyes of the room on them as they moved toward the dance floor, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Max led her to the center of the floor, the string quartet’s music flowing seamlessly into the space between them. The song was slow, a gentle waltz, and Max took her hand with a confident ease, guiding her into the rhythm. His other hand found its place on her lower back, and she placed her hand on his shoulder, the familiar feel of his presence grounding her. They moved together, slowly at first, tentative as they adjusted to the closeness. Casey could feel the heat of Max’s body beside hers, the steady press of his hand on her back, and the way he moved—fluid, almost effortless, like everything about him was meant to be in perfect harmony. His gaze never left her face. He watched her with a quiet intensity, his eyes soft but focused. Casey could feel the electricity between them growing with each step they took, each shift in their bodies. She had danced before, of course, but never like this—never so aware of the person she was with. The sensation of being so close to him, of feeling his every movement, was unsettling in a way that made her heart race faster than she cared to admit.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she said, trying to mask the growing tension with a teasing remark. Max’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was something almost shy about it—something rare for him. “I can do more than just race, you know,” he replied, his voice low, but not joking. “It’s all about the rhythm. Racing and dancing. Both need a good sense of timing.” Casey tilted her head, intrigued by the depth in his words. “You’re saying I need better timing?” Max chuckled softly. “I think your timing is fine,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But we’ll see how well you keep up with me.” Her breath hitched slightly at his words. Keep up with him? She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the dance or something else entirely. Her mind raced as she followed his lead, but her thoughts felt scattered, jumping between the rhythm of the music and the subtle intensity in the air between them. Max’s hand on her back shifted, his fingers pressing just a little firmer as they moved in sync with the music, guiding her through the steps with a smoothness that almost felt rehearsed.

For a moment, they didn’t speak. Just the sound of their feet gliding across the polished floor, the faint rustle of her dress as she turned gently in his arms, and the music surrounding them, weaving an almost dreamlike atmosphere. But then, Max broke the silence, his voice softer now, as though the dance had given him permission to speak with more vulnerability. “You know, I didn’t think I’d be this nervous tonight,” he admitted, his tone quiet but earnest. Casey met his gaze, surprised by the honesty in his words. “Nervous?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You? You’re never nervous.” Max shrugged, his eyes flicking away for just a moment before returning to hers. “Not about the racing. But about this—about… us.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I don’t know what this is, Casey. The way we’ve been working together, the way we’ve been… getting closer. I don’t want to mess it up.” Casey’s heart skipped. She hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t sure what exactly to say. There was so much left unsaid between them, but was it the right moment to address it—to acknowledge whatever this was? 

“Max,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.” The words came out without thinking, but once they were out there, she couldn’t take them back. Max’s eyes softened, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something more—something beyond the confident, sometimes cocky teammate she had come to know. His hand at her back seemed to hold her just a little bit closer, his fingers gently pressing against her as if grounding her, anchoring the moment. “I’m not worried about you leaving,” he said quietly, his voice low and sincere. “I’m worried about screwing this up. Whatever this is.”

Casey’s breath caught. The vulnerability in his voice was something she wasn’t used to hearing from him. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—open, uncertain, almost vulnerable. She’d always thought of Max as someone who never let his guard down, who was always in control. But tonight, something had changed. And she wasn’t sure if it was the dance, the evening, or something deeper, but the tension that had been building between them suddenly felt impossible to ignore. “I don’t think it’s something you can mess up,” she replied, her voice more certain now, though her heart was still racing in a way she couldn’t explain. “It’s just... us, Max. No expectations. No pressure.” He held her gaze, his expression thoughtful, almost as if he was testing her words, seeing if they were true. Then, as if a weight had been lifted, he smiled softly, the warmth in his eyes returning. “Good,” he said, his voice filled with quiet relief. “Then let’s just… keep going, yeah?” Casey nodded, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Yeah. Let’s just keep going.” The music played on, but in that moment, the world outside of their small bubble seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, moving together in sync, sharing the same rhythm, the same quiet understanding. The dance had started as a casual challenge, but now it felt like something more— something that neither of them could ignore. As they swayed together, Casey realized that this wasn’t just about the dance. This wasn’t just about racing. This was the beginning of something neither of them had fully acknowledged until now. 

The heavy Belgian clouds hung low over the legendary Spa-Francorchamps circuit, casting a shadow over the pit lane. The fans were restless, their excitement palpable as the final race before the summer break loomed. In the paddock, Casey Winters stood at the edge of the Red Bull Racing garage, her helmet in hand, her eyes fixed on the track that had become her proving ground. This was more than just another race—this was her chance to cement herself as a force to be reckoned with, not just in sim racing, but in Formula 1. Behind her, the soft hum of conversations filled the air, but in that moment, everything felt quiet. 

Her teammate, Max Verstappen, stood a few meters away, his helmet resting on the top of his head, his hands clasped in front of him as he scrolled through data on his tablet. Despite his usual confidence, even he was aware of the significance of this weekend. Max was the favorite—he’d won here the last two years and had dominated in every sense. But there was something different in the air this time. Something that felt like it could swing in a different direction. And Casey? She had already been a revelation this season, being a rookie, a woman, and earning podiums even after a rough start. But today, on this track—this track she had conquered virtually, this track where legends were made—today, she had the chance to show the world that she was ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with the very best.

Today, she was starting second on the grid, just behind Charles, while her teammate had been relegated to P6 after a 5-place grid penalty for an engine change. It was going to be a fight. The lights went out and Casey launched off the line like a coiled spring, her car immediately feeling connected to the track as she powered through the first corner at La Source, holding off Leclerc but keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching Max, who had already passed two cars by the time they reached Eau Rouge. Max was in full attack mode—there was no time to waste. His aggressive strategy would bring him forward quickly, but Casey was just as aggressive from the start, staying right on Leclerc’s tail. The Ferrari was quick off the line, but Casey’s Red Bull was sharper, with superior downforce giving her the edge through the high-speed corners. Eau Rouge was a thrill, as the two of them powered up the hill, the crowd roaring in appreciation as they braved the famous climb. By the end of Lap 1, Casey had already gained a few tenths on Charles, but the Ferrari driver remained a tough competitor, holding onto the lead.

By Lap 5, Max had already worked his way up to P3, passing both Mercedes, George Russell and Lewis Hamilton with ease. His pace was relentless, and the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc ahead of him was now in his sights. It was only a matter of time before he closed that gap. Casey was holding strong in P2, just behind Leclerc, with the gap between them hovering around a second. She could feel Max’s presence behind her—his speed was evident, but she wasn’t about to give up easily. The first round of pit stops came early for Casey. Ken called her in, warning that the softs were starting to wear, and it was time to swap to the hard tires for a longer stint. As Casey entered the pits, she could feel the nerves of the crew and the heat of the moment. The Red Bull crew was sharp, executing the stop in 2.3 seconds, a fast but safe time. She was back out on the track, in P2, but now with a fresh set of tires and a clear path ahead. 

By Lap 18, Charles had been holding onto the lead for over a dozen laps, but the pressure was mounting. Casey, despite starting second, had been relentlessly hounding him in the high-speed corners, and it was clear she wasn’t going to let him dictate the pace for long. The Ferrari was quick in the straights, but Casey had the superior car balance through Eau Rouge and Raidillon, where the Red Bull’s downforce allowed her to close the gap each time they reached the crest of the hill. Each lap, she gained a few inches, pushing harder and harder, determined to make her move. Her radio crackled with a calm, yet encouraging message: “Casey, keep pushing, you’ve got this. We’re stronger on tire wear. Focus on the exit out of the corners.” She nodded in the car, taking a deep breath. She knew the moment was coming. 

On Lap 20, Leclerc's pace began to fade slightly. His tires were beginning to lose grip, and with the track still dry but the rain threatening, Casey could feel it in the air—this was her chance. As they entered Les Combes, Leclerc understeered just a fraction, giving Casey a window to make her move. The Red Bull surged up the inside of the Ferrari, but Leclerc was quick to close the door, blocking her on the exit. The tension built, both drivers knowing how much was at stake. The next chance came at Brussels, a tight right-hander where the cars had to brake hard. Casey, having been slightly more aggressive with her braking earlier in the lap, managed to close the gap again. As they came onto the long, sweeping Puon corner, Casey found the line. Leclerc had a slight wobble as he fought for grip, and Casey used the slipstream to gain a crucial advantage. With a daring, but calculated, move, Casey slipped up the inside at Stavelot, taking the racing line and forcing Leclerc to yield. But that wasn’t enough. Leclerc fought back hard, using the power of his Ferrari engine to pull alongside her on the approach to Blanchimont, the high-speed left-hander. They were side by side, the tension unbearable. The crowd held its breath.

In a move that showcased both her racing skill and cool-headedness, Casey refused to back out of it. She positioned her Red Bull perfectly, making sure she kept her foot in it, maintaining a wider line through the corner and allowing the car’s grip to carry her through. Leclerc tried to hold on but ultimately had to back off slightly, letting her slide ahead of him. Now, on the final stretch before La Source, Casey had taken the lead. The crowd’s cheers were deafening as the Red Bull sailed past Leclerc into the lead of the Belgian Grand Prix.

Having overtaken Leclerc, Casey immediately shifted into defense mode. The rain had started to fall, and tire management became even more critical. Leclerc wasn’t about to let her have it easy, though. Over the next few laps, he kept close, hoping for an opportunity to retake the position. But Casey was calm. She was ready for this moment. Every lap, she adjusted her pace, managing the tire degradation that was beginning to affect both of them. Max, who had been charging through the field after his pit stop, was rapidly closing in on them. It was going to be a three-way battle for the win.

Casey was determined not to let this chance slip away. But Charles wasn’t backing off. The Ferrari driver, despite his tire wear, was still fast and hungry for the win. With the rain beginning to intensify, the grip levels were becoming unpredictable, making every corner a test of nerve and precision. Behind them, Max was in full attack mode. Having made his way through the field after his earlier pit stop, he was now P3 and closing in rapidly. His pace was breathtaking; he was pushing hard, his Red Bull slicing through the wet patches of the track with razor-sharp precision. Max’s confidence in these conditions was unmatched, and he was bringing the fight to both of them. As they entered Eau Rouge and Raidillon, Max was visibly faster. He was finding extra grip where others were losing it. Leclerc, struggling with tire wear and the wet conditions, lost a few tenths through the steep climb, and Max was right there, stalking him. By Lap 26, Max had made his move on Leclerc, passing him with a decisive overtake on the long Kemmel Straight, using the DRS advantage and his superior wet-weather handling. The Dutchman was now in P2, but Casey was still ahead. 

With Max now in second, Casey had to focus even harder. She knew Max would be a threat, especially with the rain starting to fall harder. The tire wear was becoming a big factor, and the drivers’ ability to adapt to the changing conditions was key. Ken came over the radio: “Casey, we expect the rain to worsen. Manage your tires—Max is right behind you. Focus on the exits and avoid mistakes.” Max, never one to give an inch, was already on the hunt. As they passed through Blanchimont, he was closing the gap, using the Red Bull’s superior grip in the wet conditions. Casey was still in the lead, but it was now a cat-and-mouse game between the two teammates.

By Lap 32, Max was less than a second behind her, putting pressure on her through every corner. The crowd’s excitement was palpable, with the roar of the engines and the rain pouring down on the circuit, making every lap feel like a new battle for survival. Leclerc, despite being passed by Max, had dropped to third but wasn’t out of the picture entirely. If either of the Red Bulls made a mistake, he would be right there to pounce. With just a handful of laps remaining, Casey had to manage both her tire wear and Max’s relentless pursuit. Max was quicker in the low-speed corners, but Casey’s Red Bull was slightly better in the high-speed sections, especially through Eau Rouge and Raidillon, where the wet conditions made it trickier for everyone.

Max was now fully focused. He could see the gap to Casey, and despite his best efforts to get around her in Les Combes and Brussels, Casey was making all the right moves. She didn’t give him an inch. On Lap 38, Max finally found an opportunity on the Kemmel Straight, using the DRS zone to pull alongside Casey. It was a classic Verstappen move, taking the inside line at Les Combes and putting his car in front. But Casey wasn’t finished. As Max completed the move, she held her line, using the better exit speed out of Les Combes to slingshot back at him down the next straight. It was neck and neck through the Brussels corner, but Casey held her ground and reclaimed the lead. 

The tension was at a boiling point now—Max, who had been relentless all race, was starting to get desperate. His patience was running thin, but Casey was as calm as ever. With the rain coming down harder, it was now about who could make fewer mistakes. With just three laps left, Max knew this was it—if he didn’t make a move soon, the race would slip away from him. The two Red Bulls were almost evenly matched, and it was all down to the last few corners. Max was getting impatient. He pushed harder through Blanchimont, diving into the corner slightly later than Casey, trying to force a mistake. But Casey was already thinking two steps ahead. She kept her car tight through Blanchimont, not giving Max any chance to pass on the outside. As they approached the final sector, Max tried to dive down the inside at La Source—but Casey was ready for it. She covered the line perfectly, forcing Max to back out and settle in behind her.

Now, with only one lap left, it was a question of who would blink first. Max was pushing hard, but every time he came close to making a move, Casey shut the door with perfect defense. Through the Les Combes and Brussels, they were still nose to tail, but it was Casey who had the advantage in the final stages, her tire management giving her the edge. Max’s final attempt came at Blanchimont, where he had found a little more pace earlier. But Casey held her ground, her experience and sharp instincts in these conditions carrying her through. She executed every corner with precision, even as Max put his car in places where it had no business being. As they rounded the final hairpin and came into La Source for the last time, Casey Winters crossed the line first.

"And we’re heading into the final lap here at the Belgian Grand Prix... What a race it’s been, folks! Casey Winters, the sim racing sensation turned F1 star, has held onto the lead through a series of relentless attacks from Max Verstappen. The rain’s been coming down harder, the tires are beginning to wear... It’s a battle for the ages!"

"Absolutely, Crofty. I have to say, I’m really impressed with the way Casey's handled herself today. She’s had Max right behind her for almost the entire race, and with the weather conditions getting trickier by the lap, it’s been a real test of nerves and skill. But she’s been brilliant. Max, of course, isn't one to give up easily, but Casey’s been flawless in defense!"

"Here we go then, the final corners. It’s La Source... and it looks like Max Verstappen is running out of time. Can he make one last-ditch effort to overtake? No, he’s trying, but Casey Winters has covered every move! The gap is still less than half a second... But Casey is hanging on!"

"This is incredible. Max was hoping for one final shot, but Casey just isn’t giving him an inch. She’s driving like a seasoned veteran. What an impressive debut season it’s been for her—and now, it looks like she's going to make history here in Spa. Casey Winters is going to do it!"

"It’s the final sector now... Casey Winters, the second woman to ever win a Formula 1 race, and the first in 43 years, has nearly controlled this race from start to finish, and she crosses the line to take her first-ever Formula 1 victory! Unbelievable scenes here at Spa-Francorchamps!"

"What a moment for Formula 1! Casey Winters, the sim racing phenomenon who has proven herself time and time again in the virtual world, has now proven herself in the real one. The Belgian Grand Prix winner in 2023, Casey Winters—an absolutely remarkable achievement!"

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Casey parked her Red Bull in the first-place spot in parc fermé. It felt surreal. The race was over, the tension of the laps, the tire management, the strategy calls—it all came down to this moment. Still inside the cockpit, her heart was pounding, her hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel. She took a deep breath, letting the reality of what she’d just accomplished wash over her.

And then, without a second thought, she climbed up balancing on the top of the car, standing tall and victorious for the world to see. She pumped her fist in the air, a wild grin spread across her face, not that anyone could see more than her eyes at the moment. The crowd roared in response, the energy of the Spa-Francorchamps faithful sending waves of adrenaline through her veins. She waved to the fans, her heart soaring with every cheer. This was it—her moment, her history-making achievement. When she climbed down from the car, her legs felt slightly unsteady, but she forced them to carry her over to the Red Bull team, who were already waiting by the barriers, their faces alight with pride. The team had been there every step of the way, working tirelessly, supporting her in her transition from sim racing to Formula 1. And now, their hard work has paid off. 

She was immediately surrounded, their congratulatory pats on her helmet and back almost making her dizzy with the sheer warmth of it all. Max was nearby, his face beaming with pride despite his second-place finish, as he was about to be interviewed.   Christian Horner gave her a hearty slap on the back. “Incredible, Casey! You were perfect today. Absolutely perfect.” Then it was Ken’s turn as he patted her on the helmet. “You’ve made us proud, Casey. The car was great, and you absolutely drove it like a champion.” With a final, proud glance at the team, Casey removed her helmet, running her fingers through her hair. The cool Belgian air felt refreshing against her skin as she took in the moment—this victory was hers. But she quickly remembered there were still media commitments to take care of. A team member handed her a bottle of water, which she eagerly took, gulping down a few mouthfuls before wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The taste of victory—mixed with the crisp water—was sweet, but she knew it was only the first step. There was still more to do.

The call came for the brief interview before the podium. She made her way to the awaiting announcer, still feeling the buzz of the race coursing through her. Standing in front of the media, Casey felt like the spotlight was brighter than ever. But she was no stranger to pressure. She had raced against some of the best in the world—Max, Charles, and others—but this was her time to shine. “Casey, congratulations! history made today! First female driver to win a Grand Prix in over 40 years. What does it mean to you?” Casey’s smile deepened. She wasn’t going to downplay this moment. She had worked so hard for it. “It’s... honestly hard to put into words. But this victory isn’t just about me. It’s about everyone who believed in me—my team, the fans, and especially all those young girls who look at this sport and wonder if it’s for them. I’m proof that anyone can make it, no matter where you come from or what obstacles you face.” The announcer smiled and thanked her for her time before she was ushered into the cool down room. 

The door closed behind her with a soft click, and the noise of the paddock and crowd seemed to fade away. Inside, the atmosphere was quieter, cooler—almost surreal after the chaos of the race. Casey took a deep breath, shaking off the last remnants of adrenaline. The moment she had dreamed of had finally arrived. She had won a Formula 1 race. But as the emotions swirled inside her, she was grateful for a moment of calm. The room wasn’t empty. Max and Charles were both there, helmets off, and their racing suits slightly disheveled. Both had already spoken to the media, but they were here now, in this private space, away from the cameras and fans. Max, leaning back against the wall, looked over when Casey walked in, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well. Look who made history today.” Casey, still processing everything, managed a playful roll of her eyes. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel real yet. I just… I can’t believe it happened.” Charles, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up with a smile and shook his head. “Believe it, mon ami, because it was one hell of a race. You earned that victory, Casey. We were both pushing you, and you never flinched.” Casey felt a mix of pride and disbelief wash over her. Max had been hot on her tail the entire race, and Charles had been fast, too. But to hear them both acknowledging her drive meant more than any podium finish. 

The cool-down room was equipped with a large screen showing highlights of the race. It flickered to life just as the trio settled into their seats. Casey watched as the replay of the final laps appeared, showing her flawless tire management and the way she held off Max’s attacks. Her hands were still trembling a little, but she couldn’t help but smile as the footage played. “Okay, that was crazy. I can’t believe I actually held you off, Max.” Max grinned. “You did more than hold me off. You were driving like a seasoned pro, keeping that pace up after every restart. I didn’t make it easy for you, but you deserved that win.” Casey glanced at him, feeling a rush of gratitude. Max, her teammate, had been relentless all race. But there was no denying that his competitiveness had pushed her to raise her game.

“You were fantastic, Casey. But honestly, those last few laps… I thought I might have had a chance to catch you. But you just had the car in a sweet spot, and the strategy was spot-on. You really timed your pit stops perfectly.” Casey laughed. “I was trying to calculate every second, but I swear it was like trying to predict the weather at Spa. You can’t. You just have to trust your instincts.” Max chuckled, leaning forward to look at the screen. “And you trusted the team, too. That strategy was one of the reasons you came out ahead. It wasn’t just about speed—it was about smart decisions. You made all the right calls.” Casey nodded, the gravity of their words slowly sinking in. She’d never felt more like a part of the team, more connected to the collective effort that had led her to this point. She was still in awe that this was her life now, but it felt earned. She was in this world, not just observing it.

The tone of the room shifted slightly as Charles leaned back in his seat, looking between Casey and Max with a more reflective expression. “You both made it look easy, but that race? It wasn’t easy. The strategy, the tire management—it was all on a knife’s edge. But what stood out to me was how calm you stayed, Casey. You didn’t crack under the pressure of the restart or Max’s constant attacks.” Casey smiled softly, appreciating Charles’s words. “I had to stay calm. Max was always there, and I knew if I made one mistake, he’d take it. I just focused on what I could control—the pace, the tire life. Everything else was in the hands of the team.” Max nodded, “that’s the difference between just being fast and winning.” Casey looked at both of them. There was no animosity between them. They had pushed each other, but today, they were all part of a greater achievement. They had created a race to remember.

As the race replays ended, the energy in the room was still high, but Casey knew it was time to get back to the chaos of the podium ceremony, more interviews, and the celebrations that would come after. “We’ll see you up there, Casey. Enjoy it—you’ve earned it,” Charles tells her. “Don’t get used to it, though. I’ll be back on top next time,” Max smirked. Casey grinned, standing up to leave the cool-down room. “We’ll see, won’t we?” As she walked out of the room, she could hear the faint echoes of the crowd still cheering, but the noise felt different now—softer, more distant. Her first Formula 1 win was still sinking in, and there was a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that this was just the beginning.

The deafening cheers of the crowd reverberated through Spa-Francorchamps as the podium ceremony began. Casey could hardly believe it. There she was, standing on the top step of the podium, her heart racing, the bright red of the Red Bull Racing suit contrasting against the green and yellow banners surrounding the podium. She had just won the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix, the first female driver in over 40 years to take a victory in Formula 1. As the national anthems played, her eyes watered a little and her mind kept drifting back to the race—her perfect tire management, the flawless strategy calls, and the way she had held off Max through the final laps. The Belgian crowd's applause was deafening as she stood there, eyes wide, taking it all in. The medal was placed around her neck and then she was handed her trophy, to which she held it up for everyone to see and was met with cheers and applause as Ken, her race engineer was handed the constructors trophy. Max and Charles were handed their trophies and finally it was time for the final part of the podium ceremony, the champagne spray. They set the trophies down and grabbed the bottles and the three drivers, now fully in the spirit of celebration, popped their corks in unison. The champagne sprayed into the air, and the crowd went wild as it rained down on them. Casey laughed, wiping a few droplets from her face, and with a mischievous smile, she aimed it toward Max, who tried to shield himself but was inevitably hit by a stream of bubbly. “Hey!” Casey laughed harder, her laughter infectious. “All’s fair in love and war, Max.” She then turned on Charles and sprayed him. The bubbly continued to rain down, soaking all three drivers but the celebration was just beginning. The sight of Casey Winters on top of the podium, with Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc flanking her, was one for the history books. 

Fernando was leaning against a Red Bull team truck, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes flickered up when he noticed her approach, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t look like he was in any rush—he understood what this moment was for her. “You looked incredible out there today, Casey. You really earned it.” Casey stopped in front of him, still feeling the weight of everything that had happened. Her hands were still slightly shaky. “It feels unreal. I don’t even know what to say. It’s like I’m still trying to catch up to everything.” Fernando’s smile softened, and he uncrossed his arms. He looked at her for a moment—this young woman who had gone from racing on simulators to standing on the top step of the Formula 1 podium. There was a certain pride in his eyes, but it was mixed with something deeper, something that went beyond just congratulating her. “You don’t have to say anything. Just feel it. This is your moment. It doesn’t matter if you can’t put it into words—this is the validation for all the work, the time, the sacrifices you’ve made to get here. Not just today, but all the years before it.” 

Casey exhaled slowly, looking out across the paddock, still buzzing with the afterglow of victory, but already starting to feel the exhaustion creeping in. She had dreamed of this day for so long, but now that it was real, it was almost too much to comprehend. She turned back to Fernando, who was watching her with that knowing, wise gaze. “I didn’t do this alone. Max… the team… they’ve all helped me get here. I wouldn’t have made it without them.” Fernando nodded. He’d seen so many drivers in his long career, and he knew the value of a good team and a strong support system. But he also knew how easy it was to get lost in the noise, to forget that it took something special to truly shine. “Of course, a good team is everything. But it’s also about you. What you’ve done today—holding off Max, managing the race, staying calm under pressure—that’s not something anyone can teach. That’s inside you.” Casey smiled, the weight of the moment hitting her more now than it had before. She had just won her first Formula 1 race, but there was so much more to it than just the victory. There was the journey. And hearing it from Fernando made it feel more real. “Thank you, Fernando. You’ve always been there for me… even when I was just a rookie, a ‘sim racer,’ and no one else took me seriously.” 

Fernando’s eyes softened, and he gave her a brief, approving nod. “I saw your potential long before others did. You’ve got something they can’t ignore anymore. And you know what? That’s the beauty of this sport. It doesn’t matter where you start, as long as you’re good enough. And you, Casey, you’ve proven that you’re more than just good enough. You’re a winner.” Casey felt a lump rise in her throat, a mixture of pride and gratitude. The road she’d taken had been anything but easy—she’d faced skepticism, isolation, and doubts from every direction. But now, here she was, and it was finally paying off. “I don’t know how many times I’ve said it but I still can’t believe it.” Fernando smiled. “You will. One day, you’ll look back, and this will just be one of the many moments in your career. But tonight? Tonight, you own it. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both looking out toward the track. The energy from the race still lingered in the air, but in this quiet moment, there was only the sound of distant celebrations and the soft hum of the paddock. For Casey, it was a rare moment of peace in a world that often didn’t allow for many. Fernando had been her mentor in more ways than one—his experience, his perspective, and his belief in her had been invaluable. “You’ll have a thousand more races, but this one? This is the one you’ll always remember. It’s yours.” Casey turned to him, her heart full, her eyes meeting his. She knew, deep down, that he was right. This was the start of something bigger. And for the first time in her career, she felt like she truly belonged in the world of Formula 1.

“Thanks, Fernando. You don’t know how much that means to me.” Fernando opened his arms and pulled her into a tight hug. “Enjoy the moment, Casey. You’ve earned it. But remember, tomorrow’s a new day. And tomorrow? You’ll keep pushing. That’s how you stay at the top.” With that, they shared a brief, understanding look. Fernando gave her a final nod of approval and left. As she turned to walk back toward the team, the weight of the victory finally sank in—this was her time. The air had shifted. 

taglist: @dreadity @sweate-r-weathe-r

[amusingmusie]

Is Evie canon to the Yours Truly universe? I absolutely love her already, and I can only imagine the kind of hell she put poor Nel through growing up. Al would be so proud. Good on Nel for starting a law firm, too! That’s our queen!!!

But also the general heartbreak that Nel must have felt as every day Evie looked a little bit more like the man Nel thought she knew. Just looking at her daughter one day only to see someone completely different but so familiar staring back. :(

I’m also so curious how the realization that Nel was pregnant went down. Not well probably. Was it before or after Al died? How would Al have reacted if he was alive (He very clearly didn’t want kids). How on earth would he have behaved around a pregnant Nel?? Also not well probably.

And of course I can’t forget about the extended family. Where’s Grace, my beloved, in all of this??? The absolute agent of chaos that she is, she and Evie would cause so much havoc — I just know it. And I can’t tell if Marie would be ecstatic up in heaven or rolling around in her grave at the news lol. I’m assuming by this point in time she’d have passed away, but to know she just missed the big news — damn. Poor Grandma Marie. Nobody thought Al had it in him 😔

Sorry for the giant block of text lol. I adore Evie and she’s got my brain in overdrive rn. Your writing is amazing, and Yours Truly is genuinely such a wonderful read! Also don’t feel pressured to answer any of the questions if you don’t want to or if it’s spoiler territory — I just had to get all that off my chest :)

Stay safe out there and take care of yourself!!

No PLEASE send me asks about Evie I fucking love her and barely ever get to talk about her because I've kept her so private for so long!

Evie is "canon" to Yours Truly but not in the way you might think. She is never going to be born, she doesn't exist, but she will eventually have a small cameo in a later chapter. The rest is a mysteryyyyyyy for now. However, I love thinking about the au where she's alive since I LOVE family drama and angst.

The girl is a menace. She's a strange mix of Darla Dimple, Jessica Lovejoy, and Heather Chandler but also can be oddly endearing? There’s a strange innocence to her. Yes, she did stab that man but she hugs her momma extra tight when that haunted look comes over her face. There are a lot of layers to the silly gay girl that VERY few people will ever see let alone notice and process.

If Al was around for Nel actually being knocked up and aware of it, he'd be annoyingly overbearing. 100% he'd treat her like she's made of glass even though she's trying to bite his throat out for being so condescending. It would be a giant clusterfuck of Nel randomly crying cuz her hormones are raging and she’s too big to bend over and buckle her shoes, and then Alastor is staring at her like she’s insane because it’s Nel, crying. They’d make it work though. Well, in another universe at least, because in the drabble-I-posted-verse uuuhh….he wasn’t really around to know that he has a child kicking around on earth.

But heeeeey she and Grace are BFFS! They definitely gang up on Nel together while she smokes 28 packs of cigs with a thirst for blood in her eyes. Little shits of a feather flock together.

If Marie was around, she would SPOIL that child. Her only grandchild, and a little girl??? Whatever Evie desired Marie would deliver and you wouldn’t be able to tell that child no without her granny defending her. It’s probably for the best that they never met since Evie would be worse than she already is.

Thanks for asking more about her cuz I like to yap :D I can't really say too too much since I don't wanna accidentally spoil YT, but man do I adore this strange child of whimsy.

[pebblepathblog]

My True Crime Addiction Ruined My Life | Here’s How I’m Dealing with the PTSD It Left Behind

Binge watching true crime isn’t just entertainment, it’s a one-way ticket to paranoia, sleepless nights, and an entirely new set of locks on your doors.

Let me just say this upfront, I thought I was normal. I thought I was just like everyone else who unwinds with some TV after a long day. A little Netflix. A little murder mystery. Totally fine, right?

But now, as I’m sitting here with three deadbolts on my front door, blackout curtains that make my living room look like Dracula’s lair, and a constant suspicion that my neighbor’s too friendly smile is hiding something sinister, I have to admit… I’ve gone too far.

True crime has officially ruined my life.

It Started So Innocently

You know that lie we all tell ourselves? “Just one episode.” Yeah, well, I told myself that too. Big mistake. It was a Sunday. I had a snack in hand and clicked play on some true crime docuseries.

Five hours later, my snack was gone, the sun had set, and my heart was racing like I’d just run a marathon. Except I hadn’t moved an inch. I was hooked. Every twist, every piece of evidence, every interview with some totally not suspicious neighbor? Pure adrenaline.

The thrill of solving mysteries from the safety of my couch was exhilarating. It made me feel like Sherlock Holmes…if Sherlock wore pajamas and paused every 20 minutes to check Instagram.

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. What started as a weekend hobby quickly morphed into a full blown obsession. And that’s when things got weird.

When Entertainment Turns Into Paranoia

At first, I thought I was just curious. True crime is popular, everyone’s watching it. But somewhere between “popular interest” and “I haven’t slept properly in weeks,” I fell off the deep end.

Suddenly, the creaks in my house weren’t creaks, they were warning signs. The neighbor’s friendly wave? Definitely hiding something. And every time I opened the door, I was fully prepared to be ambushed by a masked figure (even though the scariest thing in my neighborhood is the HOA lol).

Sleepless Nights and Overactive Imagination

Let me set the scene, It’s midnight. I’ve just finished a particularly horrifying episode about a home invasion gone wrong. The house is dark. Quiet. My dog is asleep on the floor.

Cue a broom falling in the kitchen.

Most people? They’d shrug it off. Maybe laugh at themselves. Me? I grabbed my phone like it was a weapon and yelled, “WHO’S THERE?” into the empty air.

Spoiler alert: it was just the broom.

But that’s the thing about true crime, it messes with your sense of reality. I was reacting to normal, everyday noises like I was in a live episode of Criminal Minds.

34 Traumatic Experiences from My True Crime Obsession

Why Can’t I Stop Thinking About That One Scene? Every creak and shadow at night replays the worst parts of a true crime show. After watching a series about home invasions, I couldn’t stop imagining the victim’s attack every time my house got quiet.

I’m Jumping at Every Little Sound A broom falling over shouldn’t make me scream, but it does now. The doorbell rings, and I react like I’m in the middle of a horror movie.

I Can’t Stop Checking the Doors I’ve turned lock-checking into an Olympic sport. After stalking documentaries, I double-check my locks every 10 minutes, sometimes even in the middle of the night.

Why Doesn’t Violence Shock Me Anymore? It’s scary how normal violence feels now. Conversations about crime feel casual, like it’s just part of everyday life.

“I’m Afraid to Go Outside Jogging feels like an invitation for danger. I stopped running on trails after episodes about joggers being attacked.

Every Stranger Feels Like a Threat I can’t meet new people without imagining the worst. Even friendly introductions make me wonder if they’re hiding something sinister.

The World Feels Out of My Control Watching these stories makes me feel powerless. After the kidnapping episodes, I’m constantly afraid for my family’s safety.

Every Situation Seems Dangerous My mind jumps straight to the worst-case scenario. After an office violence episode, I started side-eyeing coworkers more than I should.

Is That a Killer or Just a Regular Guy? My brain loves to connect strangers with crimes I’ve watched. I’ve caught myself thinking random people look like the suspect from a documentary.

Trusting People is Hard Now It’s like everyone has a hidden agenda. Marriage betrayal stories make me question if I’d ever trust a partner fully.

I Don’t Even Feel Safe in Public Spaces Crowded places aren’t comforting anymore. Public transport makes me nervous ever since I watched a subway crime episode.

I Can’t Get Victim Stories Out of My Head The pain of others feels personal now. Hearing about assault victims leaves me emotionally drained for days.

Kindness Feels Suspicious I question everyone’s motives. After betrayal episodes, even small acts of kindness seem like setups.

I’ve Become Overprotective of My Family I’m like a guard dog for my siblings. I’ve stopped letting them play outside alone after child abduction episodes.

Unsolved Cases Are Driving Me Crazy Open endings leave my mind spiraling. Missing persons’ cases haunt me because I keep wondering what happened.

My Nightmares Are Terrifying Even sleep doesn’t feel safe anymore. I dream about being chased after watching serial killer stories.

I Don’t Even Trust the Police Anymore Stories of mishandled cases make me skeptical. Watching episodes about failed investigations makes me doubt emergency services.

Sleeping Through the Night? Impossible. Late-night episodes make falling asleep a challenge. Kidnapping stories leave me lying awake, planning escape routes and how to unalive the rapist

I’m Scared to Let My Guard Down Relaxing feels like a luxury I can’t afford. Even during family gatherings, I keep imagining worst-case scenarios.

True Crime is Affecting My Dating Life I overanalyze every romantic partner. I keep comparing them to the manipulative partners in documentaries.

Why Am I So Paranoid About Cars? Every vehicle feels like it’s following me. Episodes about roadside crimes have me constantly checking my rearview mirror.

I Don’t Trust My Own Gut Anymore I question every instinct I have. Stories about victims ignoring red flags make me doubt my ability to read people.

Everyday Objects Feel Sinister Even normal items feel like weapons. After watching crime scenes, a kitchen knife on the counter makes me uneasy.

I’ve Become Obsessed with Self-Defense I’m constantly looking for ways to protect myself. After watching home invasion stories, I considered buying pepper spray and a baseball bat.

Walking Alone Feels Impossible Even a short walk makes me hyper-vigilant. I can’t go out at night anymore without imagining every shadow is a threat.

Do My Neighbors Have Secrets Too? Everyone around me feels suspicious. True crime makes me side-eye even the friendliest neighbors.

I’m Always Planning Escape Routes I overthink every room I enter. I calculate exits and hiding spots, even in safe spaces like my friend’s house.

Social Media Feels Dangerous Now Sharing personal details online makes me paranoid. Cybercrime episodes make me rethink every post I make.

I’m Addicted to the Fear The adrenaline rush is hard to give up. Even though it terrifies me, I can’t stop watching.

True Crime Has Changed How I See Humanity I don’t look at people the same way anymore. Stories about serial killers make me wonder how many people hide dark secrets.

Sometimes I Feel Like I’m in a Movie Every interaction feels scripted for danger. I play out scenarios in my head like I’m the star of a thriller.

I Avoid Hotels and Airbnbs Now Staying anywhere but home feels risky. Episodes about vacation crimes make me overly cautious about traveling.

My Imagination is Exhausting I’m always thinking of worst-case scenarios. Even a harmless grocery trip has me imagining potential threats.

Will I Ever Be Carefree Again? I miss feeling safe and carefree. True crime has left me questioning if I’ll ever feel as relaxed as I used to

Rock Bottom: The Night I Couldn’t Sleep

The breaking point came after a particularly intense episode about an unsolved case. You know, the kind where they never catch the guy? I went to bed, but sleep wasn’t happening. My brain was busy crafting an elaborate “what if” scenario.

What if there’s someone outside right now? What if they know I’ve been watching? What if I don’t survive to tell the tale?

I stared at the ceiling until 4 a.m., mentally rehearsing how to disarm an intruder with a lamp (again). That morning, I woke up exhausted and realized I couldn’t keep living like this.

How I’m Taking Back My Sanity

So, how am I dealing with the aftermath of my true crime addiction? First, I’ve set some boundaries. No more watching true crime before bed, (honestly, I’m not sure why I ever thought that was a good idea.) I’ve also swapped some of my viewing habits. Instead of diving into another murder mystery, I’ll watch something lighthearted, like watching a cartoon or a cooking show. There’s something oddly soothing about people aggressively frosting cakes.

I also started journaling too. At first, it felt silly writing down, “Today, I was scared of my own vacuum.” But you know what? It helps. Sometimes just putting the irrational thoughts on paper makes them feel…less powerful.

Therapy is next on my list because, let’s be real, talking to a professional beats yelling at my broom.

My Takeaway

Don’t get me wrong, I still love a good true crime story. But I’ve learned that True Crime Story is like candy, fun in moderation, disastrous in excess. Too much of a good thing can be… well, bad. True crime might scratch that itch for suspense and mystery, but it also comes with a hefty price tag for your mental health. If you’re like me and find yourself spiraling into paranoia after a binge session, it’s time to take a step back.

Because at the end of the day, the real crime is letting fear steal your peace of mind. And no amount of locked doors, triple-checked windows, or canceled jogs is worth that.

So, to all my fellow true crime junkies, watch responsibly. And maybe keep the lights on while you’re at it.

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