#i’m ACTUALLY not going to recover from this

[unassimilatedsoul]

Merely learning that there really are alternate realities is incredible; having the chance to explore one is even more so. Being invited by another version of myself to go to a multiversal conference of alternate versions of me? Now that’s just too weird and fascinating to pass up. Even the simple fact that they somehow tracked me down and sent me an email from another universe has staggering implications.

The invitation came with a countdown timer, and instructions for building a teleportation beacon. It wasn’t easy to build it in time; I hadn’t so much as soldered a circuit together in over a decade. This project was far more advanced than anything I had ever attempted even before I got out of practice with electronics. Still, I found the instructions were incredibly intuitive, lending credibility to the claim that I was being invited by myself.

The morning of the conference, I wake up a bit sleep deprived, but ready to go: I finished the beacon the night before. I strap on my backpack and wait for the countdown to finish.

As the countdown reaches zero, I activate the beacon. Seconds tick by as I start to wonder, did I actually build it right? Is this all just a prank? Did I misunderstand what I was reading?

And about that time is when reality turned inside out.

Next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor and hear a voice, both like my own and not. “Hang on, is that a mammal?”

Sitting up, I look around what appears to be a room in an office building, and a dozen compound eyes meet my gaze. “Something with an endoskeleton at any rate” another voice says, coming from one of the many beetle-like people staring back at me. One of them approaches, and reaches out a hand of sorts. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, just a bit dizzy.” Taking the hand of the beetle-person in front of me, who is dressed in something that looks for all the world like a polo and slacks, I get to my feet. The hand is softer than you would expect for someone with an exoskeleton. “So you’re sure I’m one of you guys? Because seriously, this is-”

“Really weird, I know. But you’re from Earth, the same as the rest of us, just one where evolution took a different path.” The beetle-person steps back, looking me up and down now that I’m standing at my full height. I’m about a head taller than anyone else in the room. “A really different path.”

“But how can we really be different versions of the same person? I mean, no offense, but…” I gesture vaguely towards myself.

“Frankly, the fact that any of us could be ‘alternate versions’ of the same person by random chance is unbelievable. The fact that our worlds have diverged so wildly, and yet converged again independently to form our ancestors and families, to say nothing of cultures and societies that are recognizable across timelines, is statistically so improbable that it shouldn’t have happened even once. Yet it apparently happens all the time. Actually, part of the point of this conference is to try to figure out why.”

Another beetle-person perks up: “You don’t happen to be a paleontologist, are you?”

“No, but I know the broad strokes. I imagine you have a few questio-” is about as far as I get before I break into a coughing fit.

Taking a moment to recover, I now know what it looks like when beetlefolk are worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?” says the one who helped me up.

The comment about paleontology gets me thinking. “The largest insect to ever live on my Earth died out millions of years ago. Some say it could only get that large because there was a lot more oxygen in the atmosphere back then.”

“How big was it?”

“Smaller than all of you.”

I try to focus on how I feel. My throat is tight and scratchy, and it’s getting harder to breathe. I hear the voices of my alternate beetle-selves around me, talking through the implications.

“My Earth has plenty of mammals, it should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, but they didn’t evolve in a low-oxygen environment. That one did. What happens when a mammal gets too much oxygen?”

“I don’t know, but it’s probably not good.”

After a moment’s pause, the one that helped me up quickly backs away from me. “Send it back! Send it back now!”

imagine if you teleported to a big multiversal hub of every version of you from every parallel universe and like 99.99% were just minor variations of some weird beetle alien and it turned out being a human made you one of the zany gimmick versions

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 3)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: this actually came from my own brain for once lol

word count: 1,049k

summary: your aunt pays you and alexia a visit.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: mean aunt? death of parents, fighting with family members, grief, struggling, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 2: here chapter 4: here

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared down the woman who had dared to show up at the door. Tía - your aunt. The one who’d always been more of a stranger than family to you. The one who’d only ever cared about your parents’ money and now, it seemed, was here to claim what was left of them.

Alexia’s eyes flicked nervously between the two of you, her hand hovering near your shoulder as if to stop you from doing something you might regret. You didn’t care, though. Your whole body was consumed with the rage that had been building up for weeks now. The anger that had started as a small knot in your stomach, then festered into a full-on storm, and now, standing in front of you, was the person who had the audacity to add fuel to that fire.

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía?” you repeated, your voice low but cutting.

The woman flinched at your words, but her posture remained stiff and composed. She was used to dealing with people who feared her, who catered to her every whim, but she wasn’t expecting this. You could see the shock in her eyes as she straightened up, her hand clutching a small, designer purse. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you as if you were the one who had overstepped, not her.

“Y/N…” Alexia’s voice was soft, trying to calm the tension in the air, but you couldn’t be calmed. Not now. Not when the woman had the nerve to show her face after what had happened.

Your aunt cleared her throat, finally speaking in a voice that was as cold as her expression. “I’m here because I-”

“Don’t. Just don’t,” you interrupted her, taking a step forward. “I know why you’re here. You want to make sure there’s nothing left for me, don’t you? You want to take whatever my mamí and papá had, whatever scraps are left. You’re here for the money. What else?”

She looked taken aback by your directness but quickly recovered, her lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m not here for money, Y/N,” she said, her words deliberately slow and measured. “I’m here because you need to make some decisions about what happens next.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fought to control the burning rage inside you. “What decisions? What decisions are you talking about?” you spat, your tone sharp.

Alexia stepped in then, trying to ease the situation before it escalated further. “Chica, please. Take a step back. Let’s listen to what she has to say,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring, though her eyes were full of concern.

But you couldn’t listen. Not to her. Not to anyone who seemed to think they had a say in your life now that your world had been turned upside down. Your gaze didn’t leave your aunt’s face as you spoke again, this time more quietly but no less firmly.

“Leave. Right now. I don’t want anything from you. You don’t get to walk into my life like this, pretending you care after all these years.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger beginning to build behind her cold facade. “You’re going to have to face reality sooner or later, Y/N,” she said, her voice taking on a more threatening edge. “You don’t have anyone else left. You need to start thinking about what’s next, because you can’t live in the past forever.”

You took a deep breath, the words cutting deeper than any knife could. But you wouldn’t let her win. Not today. You turned your back to her and walked toward Alexia, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence.

“Come on, chica,” Alexia said softly, her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to listen to her. You don’t have to let her get to you.”

But it didn’t stop the anger from bubbling inside you. Reality? Your reality was gone. What did she know about reality?

“You don’t get to talk about reality,” you muttered under your breath, your voice strained as you pulled away from Alexia’s touch and took a seat on the couch again. “Not after what you’ve put me through, not after everything you’ve let happen.”

Alexia sat beside you, her presence a calming force as always, though she was visibly upset by what had transpired. Your aunt, however, didn’t seem to care about the emotional toll this was taking on either of you.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N,” your aunt said curtly, turning on her heel to leave, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she marched out the door without another word.

The silence that followed her departure felt suffocating. The room seemed to close in around you, and you could feel your chest tightening, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Alexia didn’t say anything for a few moments. She just sat there, her hand resting on your knee, offering comfort in the way only she could.

You didn’t want to cry. Not again. Not in front of anyone else. But the dam inside you had already broken, and all you could do was let the tears spill silently, staining your cheeks as you sat in the hollow silence.

“Amorcito…” Alexia finally whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m so sorry. I know this is... this is so much for you to handle. But you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely. You didn’t have the energy to stop them anymore. The woman who should’ve been there for you, your family, had just shown her true colours. And now, more than ever, you knew that you only had the team. You only had Alexia, Mapi, Ingrid, Lucy, Keira, and the others. They were the ones who truly cared.

Alexia pulled you into her side, wrapping her arms around you like a protective shield. You didn’t have to say anything. She already knew.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself lean into that comfort, allowing yourself to be held.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Cat Distribution System

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

A jaw-cracking yawn split your face. You were lying on the couch in the living room waiting for the sun to rise. It had been a late night at work. You had to stay later than normal for the scheduled deep cleaning. The clock showed 6:27 when you rolled to a stop outside the house you shared with the guys.

You had scheduled yourself off tonight, knowing you would need the time to recover. Today’s goal would be to stay awake for as long as possible. Scrolling through your apps, eyes bleary you hear a sound from further in the house that you aren’t familiar with. Sitting up you find a fresh-faced bleach blonde clicking down the hall in clubbing heels.

Vaguely you remember Kyle mentioning that he would be going out with some friends last night.

“Oh!” The blonde stops short at seeing you. Probably the bags under your eyes making you look like a zombie.

Curiosity satisfied, you shift to lay back down.

“When Kyle mentioned he was in a polyamorous relationship I didn’t realize that included with a,” her lip curled up and away from her teeth as she bit into the word like a rotten peach, “woman.”

Did this bitch just…?

“And when Kyle mentioned he was going out to get his dick wet he didn’t mention it would include dragging a mannequin home.” You glare up at her from the back of the couch.

Johnny appears from the kitchen, muscles on full display as he scratches at his chest under his sleeveless workout shirt. Blondie’s gaze raked up and down Johnny’s form appreciatively.

Now you weren’t a jealous person but if you could hurl yourself over the furniture before Johnny caught you would have thrown her out of the house yourself.

“How copy?”

Bless that man and his instant understanding of the tension in the air like nitroglycerin on a bumpy road. He crossed the room and settled in behind you on the couch, placing a kiss on your head.

“Fine. The trash was just taking itself out.”

The blonde’s mouth popped open as she gaped at you.

“No one likes day-old fish, now out,” you flick your fingers to the door.

She stamps her foot and makes a noise of shock.

“How did someone like you,” nasty emphasis on the word you, “End up dating men like him and Kyle?”

Johnny tensed, ready to fight your battles.

“You ever hear of the cat distribution system? Well, sometimes it assigns things other than cats, like me. I got assigned to five of the hottest military men in the county and you?” Dragging your eyes from her toes peeping through with chipped polish to the dark roots coming through on the top of her head, “Wouldn’t get picked even as the last bitch at the shelter.”

With no good rebuttal to that, because there really wasn’t one, the blonde saw herself off and slammed the door behind her.

Turning you find Johnny, slack-jawed staring at you.

“What?” You ask him, concerned.

“I didn’t know you had it in you bonnie.”

“To be a bitch? Course I can. I also haven’t slept in rolling up on twenty-four hours so that doesn’t help.”

He pops both hands onto your cheeks and gives you a kiss that leaves you blinking back into reality by the time it is done.

“Do you have a degradation kink I didn’t know about Johnny?”

“Yes.” This reply comes from Kyle.

He looks no worse for wear after his night with the bitch you threw out. He looked remarkably put together for someone who had a nighttime visitor actually, with hair laid down nice, a maroon shirt, and dark wash jeans.

“Ah fuck off Garrick!” Johnny snapped.

“Where did your last girlfriend go, Kyle? I really liked her!” You whine as you lean back into Johnny.

“France.”

“Well, can’t you convince her to come back and join the polyq? I’d happily sleep with her. Your one-night stands are not nice to me.”

Johnny tugged on your earlobe.

“I’ve got dibs next bonnie.”

“I know you do. All I’m saying is I don’t think I’d need to be ovulating to let her peg me.”

Kyle barked out a laugh as Johnny dropped a smiling kiss to the top of your head.

Johnny murmured his love for you into your hair. Kyle crossed the room to drop a kiss on your lips.

“I love you, sweet girl. I’ll reach out and let her know you’re interested.”

“You don’t need to do that but at least stop bringing home dates that don’t believe you’re polyamorous maybe?”

Johnny piped up here, “Yeah Kyle, maybe you should start kissing any of us before you leave with a girl.”

“You just want more kisses, Johnny,” Kyle teased him.

“Fuck right I do,” he leaned forward.

You can’t help but smile as you watch Kyle and Johnny kiss. They love each other, and they love you, and you love them. This house held so much love you swore it had to have settled into the walls.

Gary appears, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glances over the kissing men and your relaxing position on Johnny. The weight of his body settling on yours, head resting on your collarbone as his arms wrap around you makes the moment that much sweeter.

You drop a kiss to his forehead, “Morning Gary.”

You get a grumble of sound as a reply.

Movement draws your face back to Kyle.

“I’ve got some errands to run this morning. Can I get a kiss for the road?” His plush lips are quirked in a small smile.

“Of course!” You chirp, the hand closest to him lifting to his face while the other stays resting on Gary’s back.

Kyle leans forward, the hand he uses for balance sliding under the neck of Gary’s shirt.

His kisses taste faintly of Johnny and Gary’s sighs against your body tell you he was appreciating the contact as well.

When Kyle pulls back from the kiss he drops one to your forehead, one to Gary’s hair, and finally one to Johnny before heading for the door.

“So you missed it, Gary, apparently our girl here is interested in getting pegged,” Johnny sits up a bit to lean around and look at Gary.

You slap at Johnny’s thigh.

“You quit that. I said I was interested in getting pegged by Kyle’s last girlfriend, not that I was interested in getting pegged in general.”

Gary pushes up on his hands to stare at you. Unable to bear the interested confusion in his gaze you cover his face with your hands.

“All of you need to stop being mean to me!” But you can’t help but laugh even as you say it.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

[azurem]

(Warning for lots of yapping)

Would married inkmare have a wedding anniversary that they celebrate ? Or a dating anniversary for non-married!inkmare ?

My hc is that the first couple of years (if they make it that far) ink writes the date in his scarf but forgets about it until the day of/the day before. Nm plans ahead and makes it super romantic and evil. But with time they kinda stop being extra (nm has a hard time with that) and they meet up for a cuddling session with extra kisses.

For gifts, my hc is that that Ink ’’buys’’ a human made gift from an au, stores it in the doodlesphere, forgets that he already got a gift, gets another gift and stashes it. After a couple of months there’s a small pile collecting dust. The day of the date he apologizes to nm that he didn’t get him a gift (he did, he forgor) :( and the next day he pops into the castle and leaves a mysterious pile of gifts. (This happened at least twice). The other sans(es) don’t hesitate to steal two or three things >:). With time he has an easier time remembering and the pile isn’t as impressive.

Nm knows that his partner is going to/might forget about their anniversary, so he plans ahead and makes it really romantic. Like, over the top fancy and classy dark academia royal themed date. He mostly does it for himself because he loves being classy and dramatic and extra. He writes poems and plays music on his record player (that ink gifted him). For gifts, nm gives… actually I’m not sure what he could gift someone that can draw anything into existence ? Idk I can’t think of anything he could give him. Maybe he’d write him something extra extra romantic ?

Last thing is they ignore the 3 kisses per day quota, just for a day !

I have so many other things to add honestly I hate them sm >:(

I think celebrating anniversaries is kinda hard for them because time passes weirdly in the multiverse. I think Nightmare would try to keep track of the date™ (by snooping around in a "twin" of the branch of Outertale where they married and trying to figure out what day it was). Dating anniversary is. Hm. Hard?? I don't think they have a date where they officially started dating, but they def would celebrate the date of their ultimate truce™ instead hmmm

My headcanon aligns very closely with yours I see......! I like the idea that Ink would try to make the effort but legit forget that he already did DKJDKD Nightmare just overall carrying the romance™ is very much in character for my version of him, too...!

I think Ink would prefer acts of service rather than gifts, but he'd appreciate art materials all the same. Underfell merch too/silly. I think it'd be funny if Nightmare tried to compose him a little tune every time. He gets pretty smug whenever he hears ink humming it to himself hmmmm

Yea, yea. I think they invent the concept of negative kisses just for the special occasions™. Or maybe they keep track of days where they haven't seen each other and "recover" the kisses that couldn't be given???? Evil stuff id say

[vevobly]

u know who god yellowjackets reactions to reader overworking themselves over school, attending despite becoming sick and having to rest at home later cuz of it? 🥺

Yellowjackets And Overworked Sick Reader Headcanons!

A/N: Yandere Nat anon, is that you again? 😭

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie would be concerned and frustrated at the same time — “Why didn’t you just take a break earlier? You’re going to make yourself worse!” She’d show up with soup and magazines at your house, treating the day with you as if it's a mini spa day while she helps you recover.

“You’re not allowed to do anything school related until you’re better” She’d insist you just lay down and rest. Jackie would also brag about how she knew you needed to slow down and how she saw this coming from a mile away — “See? I told you this would happen”

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna would understand your determination to get work done but also scold you gently for the fact you overworked yourself — “You need to take care of yourself. What’s the point of getting everything done if you’re too sick to enjoy it?” She’d probably take over some of your schoolwork and help organize your notes.

While you're resting, of course! “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this” — She’d just quietly dote on you, making sure you had everything you needed without making a big fuss about it.

Taissa Turner:

Tai is no better, actually. She's the same as Shauna, the difference is that she would be very firm about setting boundaries for your own health — “You’re amazing, but you’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out” She would tell you.

She’d sit you down with this stern but caring look on her face and make sure you stayed in bed no matter what, getting enough rest for your body. Taissa would help you catch up on schoolwork once you felt better but only after you’d fully rested — “I’ll help you get back on track, but only if you promise to listen to me next time”

Van Palmer:

Van would tease you at first about it — “Look at you, trying to be a hero and doing all the things by yourself. How’s that working out for you now?” But she’d quickly switch to full-on caretaker mode. Bringing you snacks, drinks, and maybe even some stolen VHS tapes to cheer you up.

“You’re not allowed to overdo it like this again, okay? I’m serious, I’ll tie you to the couch if I have to” — She’d check in constantly on you to make sure you were actually resting and not pretending that you were while sneaking in to do some schoolwork behind her back.

Natalie Scatorccio:

Nat would be worried but try to play it cool — “You’re kind of an idiot for pushing yourself that hard, you know?” She would tell you, half-joking. She’d just quietly take care of you in her own way, showing up with your favorite junk food or music to make you feel better.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all me, you know?” — She would tell you, her tone softer than usual. If you EVEN tried to work while resting, she would steal your books and notes. Hold them hostage until you agree to just relax.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie would be deeply concerned and very nurturing — “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard! I could feel it” She would tell you. Lottie kinda has this second sense about you. Whenever something bad happened to you, she'd have this gut feeling about it.

She would bring you herbal teas, blankets, and maybe even a crystal or two. Feeling like they’d help you heal faster somehow — “Your body is telling you to rest, and you need to listen to it” She would say to you softly, brushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. She'd be with you for hours, just caring for you.

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee would give you a real scolding about it for days — “You know, god doesn’t want us to neglect our health like this” She would say gently, handing you a glass of water and insisting you lie down. She would read you bible passages about rest and self-care, trying to make you see the importance of those two.

She would also pray for your recovery. And besides that, she would bring a bunch of food that she thinks would help you get better somehow. Fruits, vegetables, soup, and whatever food you name it out there that helps sick people recover faster!

Misty Quigley:

Misty would be over the top with her concern — “Oh no, you’re sick! I told you this would happen” I am not kidding, the girl would bring over a fully stocked first aid kit and monitor your every move like a hyper vigilant nurse or an eagle on high alert for prey.

“You’re not doing anything except getting better. Doctor’s orders!” — Misty would make a huge fuss about taking care of you, probably annoying you a little bit because of it. But you know, her enthusiasm would make it very impossible to be mad at her. I mean, she's just caring for you, isn't she?

PS: I got sick right after finishing this— Gosh forbid the country I live in chooses an appropriate weather for once, it's either a desert here or a storm.

[amilovesworld]

Checkered Hearts ||3||

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2|

Summery: Y/n, a young journalist chasing her dream in the world of sports, never imagined her path would lead her to F1—or to Carlos Sainz Jr., a driver whose charm and sarcasm quickly blur the lines between professional rivalry and something more. As they clash, argue, and share unexpected moments, Y/n's life is turned upside down, forcing her to make choices she never saw coming. But in a world of speed, fame, and pressure, can she hold on to everything she’s worked for, or will she find herself racing toward something—someone—she never planned for?

Genre: Fluff/ Enemies to lovers/ Slow burn

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr. x Indian reader

Warnings: looonnng Chapters, long series, slow burn, eventual smut.

Chapter: 3

Three weeks had passed since the training camp, and the world had resumed its usual pace. Y/N was buried in work, her days consumed with meetings, edits, and deadlines. The documentary she had documented during the camp was in its final stages, and the constant back-and-forth with the editors left her little time to process everything that had happened with Carlos. She was proud of her work, but her mind often wandered back to the playful tension between them, the moments that were both electrifying and confusing.

Carlos, on the other hand, was caught up in his own whirlwind of sponsor dinners, brand deals, and other commitments. The life of a Formula 1 driver was always busy, always demanding, but amid all the glamorous events, he couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. It was frustrating, in a way. He hadn't expected this. What had started as a casual, flirtatious game during the camp had now settled into something that both excited and unsettled him.

Both of them knew they had to keep their distance. The camp was over. He was back to his racing world, and she was back to hers. But still, every now and then, their phones would buzz with a message that made them stop and think.

First message came just a few days after the camp

Carlos: Did you make sure to edit out all the times you caught me looking perfect? I don’t want to embarrass anyone.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N: Don’t worry, Sainz. I made sure to include all your perfect moments. The world needs to know how humble you are.

It became a routine after that. Carlos would send her a message at the most random times, sometimes teasing, sometimes simply checking in. And while she tried to keep her responses neutral, the way her heart skipped every time his name lit up her screen was far from professional.

One night, as she sat with the editors going through footage, her phone buzzed again.

Carlos: Do you ever stop working, Y/N?

She glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight.

Y/N: Do you ever stop texting?

Carlos: Touché. But seriously, do you ever take a break?

Y/N: I’m busy turning your life into art, Sainz. You’re welcome.

Carlos: Ah, so I’m your muse now?

Y/N: Don’t flatter yourself.

But she was smiling as she put her phone down, the exhaustion from the long hours momentarily forgotten.

Soon their texts became more frequent but just as playful, making both their hearts race. They’d fallen into an odd pattern of exchanging messages—snarky, teasing, sometimes bordering on personal. It had become her guilty pleasure, though she’d never admit it out loud.

Carlos: You know what I hate more than PR dinners? 

Carlos: PR dinners where the food is actually terrible. You’d think fancy restaurants would know how to make decent pasta.

Y/N: Oh no. The mighty Carlos Sainz, suffering through subpar carbs.

Y/n: How will you ever recover?

Carlos: Laugh all you want, but I thought of you. 

Carlos: Your reaction would’ve been dramatic—“Is this what millions in sponsorships get you?”

Y/N: You’re not wrong. I’d probably demand a refund.

Carlos: Exactly what I thought. You’ve rubbed off on me, Y/N.

Y/N: That sounds like a “you” problem, not mine.

The banter made her grin, her editing temporarily forgotten. She fired off another reply, but her phone buzzed again before she could finish typing.

Carlos: By the way, I saw something today that reminded me of you.

Y/N: Oh? Let me guess. A stubborn goat? A cactus?

Carlos: Ha. Ha. Very funny.

Carlos: It was actually this street artist painting a mountain landscape. It looked like... peace. And for some reason, it reminded me of you.

Y/N stared at the message, her fingers hovering over the screen. This was new. Carlos being... sincere? She wasn’t sure how to respond.

Y/N: Wow, you’re getting poetic now. Should I be worried?

Carlos: Hey, don’t ruin it. I’m trying to be nice.

Y/N: It’s unsettling, honestly.

Carlos: Unsettling or sweet?

Y/N: Definitely unsettling.

Carlos: Liar.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed all the same. She couldn’t help but tease him back.

Y/N: Fine, it’s sweet. But don’t get used to me admitting that.

Carlos: Noted. But you’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?

Y/N: Not even a little.

Carlos: Liar.

The next evening Carlos was stuck in traffic in Madrid, his car crawling at a snail’s pace. He leaned his head back against the seat, his fingers itching to text her. He gave in.

Carlos: Tell me something random about you. Something no one else knows.

Y/N: What is this, 20 Questions?

Carlos: Humor me. Traffic is killing me.

Y/N: Alright... I once tried to convince my parents to name our dog Messi.

Carlos: Messi? As in Lionel Messi?

Y/N: Yes. My dad refused because we’re cricket fans, and he thought naming a dog after a footballer was blasphemy.

Carlos: Your dad is a man of principle. I respect that. But you were right. Messi’s a great name for a dog.

Y/N: Thank you. My dad still doesn’t agree.

Carlos: Your turn. Ask me something.

Y/N: Alright. What’s something you’re really bad at?

Carlos: Singing. Terrible. I tried karaoke once and cleared the room.

Y/N: Now I need to witness this.

Carlos: Not happening. Ever.

Y/N was at her desk in the newsroom when her phone buzzed again. Carlos. She unlocked her phone, already smirking.

Carlos: I did something stupid today.

Y/N: What else is new?

Carlos: I tripped during a photoshoot and knocked over a lighting rig. The photographers weren’t happy.

Y/N: Carlos Sainz: Destroyer of Equipment. Should I add that to your list of titles?

Carlos: Go ahead. Add it right under “Fastest Man Alive.”

Y/N: Pfft. Modest as always.

Carlos: It’s part of my charm.

Y/N: Is that what we’re calling it now?

Their exchanges became a constant, a thread woven through their busy days. It wasn’t just teasing anymore—there were moments of honesty, of connection, that made Y/N pause and wonder.

A week later It was late at night when Carlos texted her again, his message catching her off guard.

Carlos: Do you miss it? The mountains? Your home?

Y/N: Every day.

Carlos: Why did you leave, then?

Y/N stared at the question, her chest tightening. She debated whether to answer. Finally, she did.

Y/N: Because I wanted more. I wanted to see the world, to tell stories that mattered. But sometimes, I wonder if I left a part of myself behind.

Carlos: You didn’t. It’s still with you. I see it every time you talk about home.

Y/N blinked at the screen, her heart doing an odd little flip. Before she could reply, he sent another message.

Carlos: For what it’s worth, I think you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Y/N: And where is that?

Carlos: Right here, driving me crazy.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but the warmth in her chest didn’t fade.

Next day as she wrapped up her work for the day, her phone buzzed again.

Carlos: One of the guys at training asked if I was dating someone.

Y/N: And what did you say?

Carlos: I said no. But it made me think of you.

Y/N: Carlos…

Her heart almost did a somersault

Carlos: Relax, Y/N. I’m just saying. You’re hard to forget.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Sainz.

Carlos: And you love it.

They both knew they were toeing a line, but neither seemed willing to stop. The game was still on, but the stakes were getting higher.

_________________________________________________________________________

The 2026 F1 season had kicked off, and the paddock buzzed with its usual energy. The teams were preparing, the drivers were in full swing, and the media was capturing every moment. But for Y/N, this season felt different. It wasn’t just the intensity of the work or the weight of her responsibilities. No, it was him—Carlos Sainz.

Things had undeniably shifted since the previous season. Y/N was no longer the rookie journalist learning the ropes. She was now well-respected in the paddock, known for her sharp questions, her impeccable work ethic, and, surprisingly, her interactions with certain drivers. She had earned the trust and camaraderie of several drivers—Max, Charles, Lando, and Alex, to name a few. But among all the drivers, one made her heart race in ways she couldn’t fully explain: Carlos Sainz.

The subtle flirtations that had begun last year had only grown more intense as time passed. Carlos, always known for his charm, had begun to turn it up a notch. It was as if he was always in the back of her mind, his smirks and comments lingering in her thoughts long after the cameras were turned off. And it wasn’t just private moments anymore. No, Carlos was letting his flirtation spill into the public eye, on camera during interviews, in front of fans and colleagues alike.

It started small. An innocent compliment here, a lingering look there. But by the time the season was in full swing, it was clear to everyone in the paddock—and to anyone paying attention—that Carlos was acting differently around Y/N.

During a particularly tense race weekend, Y/N found herself conducting a routine interview with Carlos. She was as professional as always, keeping the conversation on track. But Carlos had a way of making even the most casual questions feel intimate. As she asked about his approach to the race, his eyes never left hers. He leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and smooth as he responded.

Carlos: “Well, I’m always ready for a challenge, but you know... having the right company makes everything a little more exciting, don't you think?"

Y/N tried to maintain her composure, but the heat in his gaze sent an unexpected rush of warmth to her cheeks. The crew behind the cameras exchanged amused glances. It wasn’t lost on anyone that Carlos was flirting—openly—and that his attention was solely on Y/N.

Max, standing off to the side, raised an eyebrow and whispered to Lando, who smirked in response.

Lando (playfully): “You see that? Carlos is really laying it on thick this season.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms.

Max (mockingly): “If only Y/N would admit it, we wouldn’t have to keep pretending they’re just ‘friends.’”

Meanwhile, Charles, who had become a good friend to Y/N over the last year, shot her a knowing glance, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Charles (teasing): “You know, you’re not fooling anyone, Y/N. We all see it. Even the fans are starting to catch on.”

Y/N shot him a look, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up her neck. She had learned how to handle teasing by now, especially from her friends in the paddock. But this—this was different. There was something in Carlos’s gaze that made her heart race, something that was far more than just friendly teasing.

Y/N (with a forced laugh): “Please, guys. We’re just doing our jobs. I’m here to report, not to be part of some... fanfic.”

But despite her words, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was different this season. Carlos had made it clear that he was still playing the game, but this time, it wasn’t just playful banter—it felt like something more.

And the fans had noticed. Social media was ablaze with speculation about the two. Fans posted gifs, clips, and memes, comparing Carlos's flirtatious demeanor with Y/N to how he interacted with other interviewers. It was clear to anyone paying attention that there was something between them.

Fan Tweet: "Did anyone else notice the way Carlos looks at Y/N during interviews? It's different. WAY different. 👀 #TeamCarlos #Y/N"

Another Fan Tweet: "I’m not saying Y/N and Carlos are dating, but I’m definitely shipping them. You can see the chemistry! #F1LoveStory"

As the comments and speculations piled up, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. She had never been one to entertain rumors, but this... this felt too real to ignore.

Her friends, especially Lando and Charles, teased her endlessly, poking fun at her every chance they got.

Lando (laughing): “Y/N, you’re not fooling anyone. Carlos is practically writing love letters on live TV.”

Charles (mock-seriously): “Come on, Y/N, we all know what’s happening here. You can’t hide it much longer.”

Y/N, ever the professional, kept her cool. She refused to acknowledge anything more than a playful friendship between her and Carlos, even if her heart didn’t always agree.

But as much as she tried to ignore it, the tension between them was undeniable. Carlos’s subtle flirting was becoming harder to ignore. Every interaction, every casual touch or lingering smile, felt charged with something more. And as the season wore on, it became clear to Y/N that their relationship—whatever it was—was on the verge of something bigger, something neither of them was ready to confront.

In the paddock, surrounded by her colleagues, the teasing continued. But the unspoken truth remained: Carlos Sainz and Y/N were playing a game that neither of them seemed ready to end.

_____________________________________________

Y/N had barely managed to contain her frustration by the time she arrived at the karting track. Her boss's words still echoed in her ears: “Isn’t this what you wanted? It’s temporary.”

She had worked tirelessly to adapt to the world of Formula 1, immersing herself in the sport, the drivers, the drama, and the sheer speed of it all. And now, just as she had started to find her rhythm and establish herself, they were pulling her out. The anger coursed through her as she donned her helmet and got behind the wheel of the kart.

She took off, each lap a way to release the frustration building inside her. The whine of the engine and the feeling of control over the kart were her only solace. She pushed harder, cornering aggressively, her mind replaying every dismissive word her boss had said and the gossip circulating in the office. The sting of disappointment mixed with an unfamiliar ache she couldn't quite name.

When she was done, her arms ached, her legs were sore, and sweat dripped down her back. But it hadn’t really helped. She still felt like screaming. She grabbed her bag and was ready to storm out when she bumped into three familiar figures by the entrance: Charles, Lando, and Carlos. Of course.

Charles was the first to spot her. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked, his face lighting up with a smile.

Y/N plastered on her best neutral expression. “Just blowing off some steam,” she said, shrugging.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You? Blowing off steam? That doesn’t sound like you,” he teased, though his tone was light.

Carlos, standing a little behind them, tilted his head slightly as he studied her. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes narrowed as if he could see right through her nonchalant act.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said quickly, trying to edge past them.

“Wait,” Carlos finally spoke, stepping forward. “You don’t look okay. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to spill her frustrations in front of everyone, especially Carlos. “Nothing. Just a bad day at work,” she said, brushing it off.

Charles looked concerned, but Lando smirked. “You know what’s the best cure for a bad day? Racing us,” he said, gesturing to the karts.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but I’m done for the day.”

Carlos crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. “Scared you’ll lose?” he challenged, a playful lilt in his voice.

She glared at him. “I’m not scared of losing.”

“Prove it,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It was the perfect bait, and Y/N knew it. She hated losing to Carlos in anything, even if it was just playful banter. “Fine,” she snapped. “But don’t cry when I beat you.”

Charles and Lando exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the brewing competition.

As they geared up and got into their karts, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Carlos glanced at her, his eyes flicking between playful and concerned. But she pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the race.

When the race started, Y/N put everything she had into it, determined to channel her anger into something productive. But Carlos wasn’t going to make it easy. They battled for position, overtaking each other at every opportunity. Charles and Lando were somewhere behind them, laughing and enjoying the chaos.

By the time they finished, Y/N was breathless, her frustration momentarily replaced by the thrill of competition. Carlos had beaten her by a hair, and he was grinning smugly as they pulled off their helmets.

“Looks like I still have the upper hand,” he teased, walking over to her.

Y/N groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his tone softer now. “So I must be doing something right.”

She realized he was right—despite everything, she was smiling. The anger and sting from earlier hadn’t completely disappeared, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore.

As the group left the track, Charles glanced at her as they walked to the parking lot. “You’re really upset about something. Is it just work?” he asked, his tone unusually serious.

She hesitated. Her instincts told her to brush it off and keep walking, but the genuine concern in his voice softened her resolve. She glanced at Carlos, who was standing a little behind the others, his arms crossed, studying her with a furrowed brow. His presence only fueled her frustration.

Y/N (with a forced smile): “It’s nothing. Just work stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

Lando: “Work stuff? Doesn’t sound like nothing. Come on, spill. We’re great listeners.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I doubt you’d care about the politics of journalism.”

Carlos: “Try us.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, she felt like he could see right through her. It annoyed her even more. She didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with him there, but the anger bubbling inside her needed an outlet.

Y/N (sharply): “Fine. My boss just told me I’m being reassigned. Cricket."

The three drivers exchanged looks, but before they could say anything, she continued, her words spilling out in a rush.

Y/N: “Do you know how hard I worked to fit in here? To learn everything about F1 from scratch? To prove to everyone that I belonged here, despite what they might think? And now, just like that, I’m being pulled out because ‘it’s temporary’ and ‘wasn’t this what I wanted?’” She paused, her voice shaking with frustration. “And as if that’s not enough, I get to hear my colleagues whispering behind my back about how I’m only close to the drivers because I’m... I don’t know, using you all or something.”

The last part slipped out before she could stop herself, and she instantly regretted it. The looks on their faces—sympathy from Charles, a mix of concern and guilt from Lando, and something unreadable from Carlos—made her want to disappear.

Charles: “Y/N... that’s not fair. You’ve earned your place here. Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

Lando (nodding): “Yeah, and honestly? Screw them. They’re probably just jealous. You’re great at what you do.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered.

Carlos finally spoke. “Y/N, listen to me. You’re one of the best journalists I’ve ever worked with. If they’re too blind to see that, it’s their loss. But I know you—you’re not the type to give up. You’ll figure this out.”

She gave them a small, grateful smile, as he continued.

Carlos: “You’re mad because it feels like all your work doesn’t matter, right? Like they’re taking it away from you without thinking about what it means to you.”

She nodded, surprised at how accurately he’d nailed it.

Carlos: “Then don’t let them take it away. You’re not leaving forever, right? Just... make sure they see what they’re losing. Be so good at covering cricket that they’ll have no choice but to bring you back here. And as for the whispers...” He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. “They don’t matter. You know the truth, and so do we.”

His words hit her harder than she expected, and for the first time that day, the sting in her chest felt a little less sharp. She looked up at him, her anger softening into something more vulnerable.

Y/N (quietly): “Thanks.”

Carlos smiled. “Anytime. Just remember, I’m always here to remind you how amazing you are... and to beat you at karting when you need it.”

She laughed. “I’ll take you up on that,” she said, the weight on her shoulders feeling a little lighter.

As they headed toward the parking lot, Carlos fell into step beside her. He didn’t say anything, but the occasional brush of his arm against hers spoke volumes. And for the first time all day, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

[cynical-cemeteries]

WAITTTTT I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING AND NEEDED TO SHARE

okay so brandon’s trailer got released about a year ago right?? and his letter to raligon dropped the day after?? walk with me now

if raligon is supposed to be coming at the start of august, we should be hearing about his release and skill set near the end of this month……which is july……which also happens to be a year later……

and remember raligon’s letter to brandon at the end of our recent stream??

now imagine if they drop raligon’s trailer and his letter to brandon a year after??????

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[xskyll]

Prev / Next

First

[panthermouthh]

A podcaster I listen to just spent an episode describing what his neurodivergent burnout is like for him, and it’s the first time someone’s experience has actually really resonated with me. It affirming and concerning lol

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t even fully know why but “what do I do when I miss you so much?” / “Just wait, and pray desperately” was a knife to my heart in the best way.

[shy-sapphic-ace]

I really really really want to read a Oscar/Noel fic but I can’t?? find any?? I guess I have to write my own but it’s not the same :(

[sunmisbf]

i have always wished i would have been there since the beginning of sunmi’s solo career but i am glad i wasn’t bc imagine being a fan of someone for 10 years n the only thing they have to show for it is 3 mini albums

[alexturner2005]

i saw royal blood on friday and it was wild…within two minutes there was a mosh pit, ben was in the audience, and i was covered in someone’s beer. i lost hearing in one ear even tho i was wearing ear plugs, got bruises all over my arms, pulled every muscle, and made way too much eye contact with mike kerr. then i maybe almost got kidnapped by my uber driver 😬

[goldenhypen]

guys i was so fortunate and lucky to get to see enhypen irl tonight :’) sooo grateful omg it was so good and i’m going coocoo bonkers crazier than ever rn

[mars-ipan]

still insane to me how ppl pretend fatphobia is about health only to continue to be fatphobic when someone gains weight or even just looks somewhat fatter as a result of improving health