#so that's only like a day and a half without a meal which isn't even that bad I've had way worse

[who-is-page]

Rent is coming up and we just had to pay for a new washing machine and to get our cat spayed and chipped (because even if she's an indoors-only cat, you can never be too safe!), if you like my work consider buying my TTRPGs or donating to my Ko-fi?

[delulujuls]

healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

[emacrow]

Selina adopt a new stray.. well almost ghostly cat like stray.

Selina had just finished her heist to steal some valuables cat related jewelry, even though their weren't very high in valuable, she just wanted them as a decoration.

Only to hear the most desperate yowl of a cat above between the alley that she was about to leap over.

Only to see a tiny meta cat like toddler all caught and tangled up in a gothams clotheslines screaming bloody murder was happening upon him. His desperate yowling and frantic moving getting more tangled up then isn't helping was going to alert either batman or his robin spawns any minute if she didn't do something.

So she caught the clotheslines string and caught the kid whom immediately froze upon being held. The toddler look like a batman's adopt-bait except for the white cat ears, glowing cat-like eyes, whiskers and white two tail?

Yea.. she keeping him after she untangled him.

By the time she got him with her newest stray without actually alerting any bats was surprising. She have to come up with a name after she bathe him and feed him because he is much lighter then a normal toddler should be..

Once he was clean (ignoring the multiple scars, precision cuts and v line on his tiny chest until she get her phone for photo evidences later), and clothed, she temporarily put him in a box for just 5 minutes so she can fixed him up a temporarily bed next to her bed using the numerous amount of soft pillows she have.

Only for the blood curdling scream to be heard a she panicking ran back to the living room only to see the kid stop when she noticed she was in his sight.

OH, oh no, his isn't orange cat dumb..

She decided to do a little test which was pull up the a random spare blanket from her living room, lift it up to not show her body and drop it as she seemingly disappeared.

Blood curding yowling began once more.

Yep. He is dumber then orange cat dumb..

She brought the box in her room as she fixed him up a nice temporarily bed. She brought him to her kitchen for meal time. Checking his mouth to see those pearly white teeths and fangs.

Damn she didn't had much groceries beside a couple eggs, a soda can, red strawberry wine for girls night, salmon dish she was planning to eat later, and the half eaten bread loaf she brought 3 days ago..

Selina smiled a bit as she sip her soda watching her new kid nommed the pieces of salmon that she cut up into bit size pieces. Listening to softest loud purr coming from him was music to her ears..

Part 2

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ one and two, chapter two (ls2)

Forced to move in together, you and Logan slowly fall into an easy routine. It's not hard to act like you love someone when you do, even if they don't believe it, but you'll show him.

logan sargeant x first daughter!reader // fc: yasmin barbieri

warnings/notes: a bit of low self esteem at the end, drinking and cursing, i tried to keep this as fluffy as possible. sorry for the long wait, i made this pretty long to make up for that <3

previous / next (https://www.tumblr.com/everythingne/756176337028464640/one-and-two-ch-3-drafting)

Apparently, according to your father, the best thing for you and Logan would be to move in together. Which... isn't a terrible thought process if you are in an arranged marriage, but you'd met Logan less than a week ago and now half of your stuff was being shipped overseas without as much as a question.

It felt... weirdly demeaning.

Despite the tension raising with your father, living with Logan is quite easy. He's late to bed, an early riser, your seperate rooms down the hall give you both space that's your own while leaving the kitchen and living room for moments where its okay to be together.

Plus, it makes it easier for you to fix your sleep schedule. The difference between London and Washington, d.c. isn’t that big, but it still throws you off for a few weeks.

And because of that, you don’t travel with Logan until the Spanish GP.

By then you’ve settled into life in London and planned your fashion shows and such around his schedule because it was more concrete than any schedule you'd make yourself.

Life in London was wonderful to you, because you able to keep a lower profile than in the states. It was nice to be able to take yourself out for coffee, or to go to your cycling class, or yoga, or pilates—or whatever you’re feeling, without too many cameras.

And you settle into life with Logan quickly.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, potus, and 987k others...

ynfdotus: cannot believe i let a blonde guy convince me to move from the heart of the states to a bit outside london 🩵

potus: big adventures await!

user1: shut UPPPP THIS IS SO CUTE??

user2: nah bc who convinced her.

lilymhe: yayy!!!! ur so close now!!!!! girls day.

⤷ yn.fdotus: only if @ lilyzneimer joins this time

⤷ lilyzneimer: oh babes im down 🩷

user3: wasn't she at the williams paddock for miami.... and her hug with logan after the race?? ive connected the dots.

⤷ user4: you haven't connected shit.

⤷ user3: i connected them !!

"I'm home!" Logan shouts down the hall of the flat as the door clicks shut behind him, his hand automatically reaching to lock it. You call back a greeting as you check over his meal plan notes once more to ensure you've cooked the food correctly before turning back to look at him as you turn off the burner you're using.

"You had lunch today right?" He asks as he comes around the corner and you nod softly, standing on your toes to grab some dishes out of the top of the cabinet. When your fingers miss the edge of the bowl, Logan's hand comes to your back to keep you still while he reaches up and grabs them for you, before settling them in your hands and kissing your cheek. And eyeing the dinner you're making with a bit of curiosity over your shoulder.

The quick kisses were another thing to help settle into the way you had to act for media. But honestly, they ended up being more of a habit now. But Logan would kiss anywhere but your lips, which sucked, because kissing Logan was like being shocked with electricity. It made you blush, it made your heart stutter, all you wanted was to be with him.

Logan moves back to the counter as you set down the dishes by the stove, and you turn fully to actually take him in now. He's in a hoodie and jeans, having changed after going to the gym, and you smile at him when your eyes meet, then you gasp.

"Oh! Flowers!" You exclaim as he sets down a few bags of groceries and other items you'd asked him to go run out to grab.

"I bought them for you." He smiles, genuinely real, crinkling at the corners of his eyes as you turn around to grab a spoon to get a little bit of the dish for Logan to taste before you plated it.

"Oh, what's the occasion?" You ask as you hold the spoon out to him, and he happily bites the salmon off the spoon with a content hum.

He raises his hand to his mouth and says, "There has to be an occasion? I just noticed the other flowers you have in the house are dying and these were pretty. Also, you cook this shit way better than I ever could."

You laugh out a thank you, and agree the flowers were dying as you turn to plate the food. Logan makes himself busy swapping out the flowers and getting all your little mood lights up so he doesn't have to turn the big light on when the sun finally sets. The big bay windows of your apartment letting in the last fleeting rays of golden sun, and he stands behind you for a moment to admire the way it curls on your skin.

"Hey, after dinner..." You turn, making eye contact with him and pausing at the way the golden glow lights up his eyes. The two of you just pause, sort of staring and taking in the moment before you clear your throat and you somehow manage to pull your eyes away to go set down the food.

"After dinner?" He prompts softly and you turn over your shoulder as he brushes behind you, one hand gently sliding across your back so you know he's there.

"Do you wanna walk to get ice cream? This little gelato place opened around the corner." You say softly, blinking at him with a sort of... awestruck, love filled expression. It makes his cheeks warm as he leans down to press a kiss to your hairline.

"Sure, just don't tell anyone I'm going off my meal plan."

You chuckle softly, moving to sit down next to him at the table, facing the window so you can watch the city around you moving around. Lights flickering on as the night closes in, the silence of the apartment is very soft and welcoming. Dinner is finished pretty quickly and soon you find yourself tugging on a hoodie while Logan finishes up the dishes, and then you both head out.

Walking down the busy but slightly quieter London streets, you wander towards the roadside to look at a flyer. Logan watches as you return to his side, and after a moment of walking on his left, you feel his hand gently take your wrist and bring you to the inside of the sidewalk.

You watch his face soften a little as he takes your hand in his and at a crosswalk, pops a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

And in the moment, you forget all about the gelato, all about London, all about the world around you. In the moment, it's just the warmth of his hands against yours.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, cambridgeuniversity, potus, and 912k others...

yn.fdotus: got to teach a wonderful group of sustainable fashion designers at @ cambridgeuniversity this morning. while I'm hitching a train ride to barcelona, i'm full of love for all the creatives.

my next teaching event will land me back in the states at @ SCADFASH in savannah during september ! you can book tickets at: scad.edu/yn.fdotus.visit !s

cambridgeuniversity: it was wonderful having you! see you soon!

user1: pls tell me shes going to barcelona for the gp

logansargeant: see u soon miss america :)

⤷ yn.fdotus: you too, captain america 🩵

⤷ user2: SHUT UPPPP????

Coming into the garage, you can feel the tension across the entire building. You glance to your side, taking in Logan's half the garage, before passing over with no hesitance. Dipping through some of the larger groups of workers, you find solace in the drivers rooms. Knocking twice, you hear Logan call for you to come in, and you pop open the door before shutting it behind you.

"Hey." You breathe softly and Logan smiles as he tugs his sleeves on, coming over to press a kiss to your cheek, "good luck out there."

After a few disappointing races, you knew Logan wanted nothing more than to finally smoke out his competition. And he'd been qualifying better and better, but was having an almost George Russel level weekend luck. You figured he might be the next Mr. Saturday.

You'd missed the past two days, busy with your own work, and you note how Logan is clearly at much more ease now that you're by his side.

"Thanks, baby." He murmurs softly, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocate without hesitance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you do. But theres something stiff that makes you step back, taking his head in your hands and pressing your foreheads together.

"What's a matter?" You hum, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes and hoping and he'll tell you whats up with him. Finally, he sighs and crumbles into your hold.

"I didn't tell you on the phone," Logan murmurs, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, "I was having steering issues yesterday, they haven't been able to figure out the source of it."

You hum softly, leaning down to peck his nose before settling your foreheads together again, "how bad was it?"

"Not the worst I've dealt with, just some understeering."

"I don't know much about these cars, only what you've babbled at me before," You start with, earning a curious look from Logan as he opens his eyes, "but could it have something to do with your like... what is it, downforce? Isn't understeer or whatever affected by that? Like DRS?"

Logan blinks, then gasps, capturing your lips quickly before whispering, "you're a genius, I didn't even think of that."

And he drags you with him into the garage as he goes to ask about a million questions about his car, you're just happy to tag along with a bounce to your step and your hands intertwined. Alex and Lily are also in the main garage area, making some sort of Tik Tok together, and you suction to Logan's side as he speaks with his engineers.

The answer ends up being something with--not the rear wing but the front wing, or at least they find another issue that might kinda fix the steering issues with some shit like downforce or something... so you count it as a success.

Logan happily pops a kiss to your cheek in thanks as his head engineer gives you a fist bump for thinking of something they'd overlooked, you say its a lot like fashion, how one wrong stitch can ruin a whole dress.

Alex goes on to call you Elle Woods, and you feel like a nickname is cementing in Williams.

Logan goes on to place P6, his highest ranking of the season, which you determine calls for getting absolutely fucked up at the club. Your plan is surprisingly well accepted by the team, and you rent out a little back private room of some club blasting songs from any and everywhere as you drag Lily with you onto the dancefloor.

You're not sure how long you're out there before Logan and Alex are pulling you both back to reality, settling you at the back corner of the bar where you can watch Lando and Oscar betting over something Max and Charles are doing a few feet away. George trying to get Alex to try some sort of liquor, and Fernando chipping in a few bucks to the bet that Alex will like it.

"How much water have you both had?" Logan asks, a beer in hand as he leans on the bar behind you.

"I had two glasses, I think?" Lily says, "I can feel I need more though."

"I'll need more water." You smile, trying to hide the fact you don't remember if you've had water at all tonight. Logan nods, and whisks off to where Yuki has flagged a bartender down.

"You two are so cute." Lily gushes once Logan's out of earshot. Alex coming to stand beside her as he now nurses whatever liquor George was trying to get him to try in an Old Fashioned glass.

"I would've never expected the First Daughter to be dating a dude from Florida." Alex deadpans, offering Lily a sip of his drink, and she's also surprised by how good the drink is.

You laugh softly, tequila on your tongue letting the truth slip, "It's a Public Relations thing."

"What?!" Alex gasps and Lily nearly spits out her second sip of Alex's drink.

"Wait, seriously?!" Lily echoes, "But how? You two are so perfect!"

"And Logan's a shit actor." Alex adds with a tiny laugh. You feel an arm slide around you, and peek to see Logan as he hands Lily a water bottle, and then hands you one as well.

"Well," Logan chimes, "It's more of a like... arranged marriage kinda deal, rather than PR."

"You got in an arranged marriage? What, are you mormon?!"

"Mormon's don't do arranged marriages actually." You hum into your bottle before taking a sip, "And it's because of my father. He thinks, because my brother was a big party guy in his mid-twenties, that I'm gonna be the same way. Which is stupid, because yeah, I'll go and get drunk, but I won't blackout and flirt with a professor."

"Did your brother do that?" Lily snorts as you nod with a loud sigh, leaning into Logan.

"So, we're arranged." You shrug, "Doesn't mean I can't still like the guy. My parents were arranged too, and they literally are sickeningly in love with each other."

"Can vouch for that." Logan laughs softly as you smile up at him and take another big gulp of your water bottle. With Alex and Lily now in on the secret, you feel a bit more at ease, not having to play anything up as much with them.

But the night drags on far longer than it should, with Logan's arm around your shoulders between the hours when the clubgets too busy to really move.

The drivers all plan their escapes around three in the morning, and it's sobering for you to have to literally lean on Logan so you don't fall and die in the halls as you make it back to your hotel room.

"Christ. I didn't know you were worse of a lightweight than me." Logan hoists you up, one arm secure around your waist so you stay cemented to his side as he fiddles with the key to unlock the door. As you both get in, he helps you settle on the bed, taking off your heels for you and letting you curl up in one of the throe blankets you'd brought. He stands, moving back from you to the dresser with a soft yawn.

"Lo, baby," You hum softly and he turns, nodding as you reach out to him.

"It's okay, darling," He says softly, moving back over to kiss your forehead as you cling to his arm, "I'm just gonna get changed and grab you something to wear that isn't... a mini dress."

"Okay." You whisper, tired from the long night, and release him as much as you don't want to. Logan works around you for a moment, getting himself ready for bed before he leans down in front of you and helps you to your feet.

"C'mon. Let's get you ready for bed before you knock out."

Logan takes your hands as he leads you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet while he roots through your bag. You clear up which is which product, what order, and how to use them.

Logan takes the oil cleanser, pouring a little bit out and applying it to your face. The only spot he has you do is by your eyes, before he uses a wet rag to wipe it off. While he works you keep trying to wrap your arms around him.

He laughs softly, letting you cling to his side as he tries--bless him, to apply another cleanser to your face to properly clean your face now. Eventually, and after a bit of fighting with you to let go of his torso, he manages to get all of your makeup cleaned off, and skin... semi-properly washed.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he croons softly, brushing a hand across your jaw to tilt your head to face him, "Let's get you in bed, yeah?"

And even though the hotel has two beds, you coax Logan to cuddle with you in your drunk state. And you don't mind being wrapped up by his warm arms when you wake the next morning.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 978k others...

yn.fdotus: so. about last night... i don't remember much after the twentieth tequila shot... <3

logansargeant: its ok you have great dance skills

oscarpiastri: thanks for letting me win 20 in that bet

yn.fdotus: oscar. ur on thin ice.

user1: U WENT CLUBBING W THE DRIVERS???

lilymhe: my favorite lightweight <3

After Barcelona, the next race you go to is Silverstone. You've been biting your nails for weeks about this, the upgrades Williams is planning on bringing don't seem to be very... solidified. Logan tries his hardest to seem confident, but it's clear he's more worried than you are.

You do the track walk in Barcelona with Williams, idly tagging along last moment with Lily. It's more for PR, as the cameras snap photos of the four of you (Alex, Logan, Lily, and yourself) dicking around as you walk.

But theres a damper to the mood.

Sure, the weight problems in the Williams car is 'fixed' but it seems like something was taken away... something helpful.

You and Lily settle in the little watch area in the garage, you pulling out your laptop to get some emails sent out before the race, while Lily posts something on her Instagram.

Logan appears with his helmet on, wrapping an arm around you and saying, "Any last words before I get in the car?"

You look over, and pop a kiss to the little part of his helmet covering his lips--leaving a little smudge of lipstick behind as you knock three times on the side of his helmet, "Don't worry about the upgrades. You'll be fine, Lo."

"Thanks, baby." He almost grumbles, eyes squishing from his smile under the helmet. You send him on his way, and Alex scoffs from besides you where Lily is fixing his glove.

"I still don't get how you two claim you're 'just arranged.' Like, I just watched a cute couple moment." He laments, making Lily laugh as she leans back on the couch next to you.

"I'm just a great actress," You shrug, but can't deny the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You and Logan had an undeniable spark, and you acted way too romantic to be platonic even behind closed doors. But you had always just chalked it up to being for the bit, being for the media.

But... had you even done any of this for the media?

Alex bids farewell and you, with a bit of stammer and a blushing face, retire to Logan's drivers room. It's just practice today, so you find your able to get somewhat comfy, turning on the TV to show you highlights as you work in quiet solitude.

You're not sure when you doze off, but when you come back, theres something plush under your head. Blinking, you look up to see Logan, idly scrolling on his phone... with your head on his lap. Your arms are wrapped around one of his legs like you'd snuggled in, and he's thrown his jacket over your legs.

So you close your eyes and move to wrap your arms around his waist instead, and he chuffs out a soft laugh, murmuring, "c'mon, baby."

He hoists you up as he slides down to lay on his side, shifting until he's inna comfortable position. Then he slowly shifts you back into place, your head coming to his lay on his bicep as you bink your eyes open.

"Hi, sleepy." He whispers to you, "Don't worry, I saved your email drafts before shutting your laptop."

"How was practice?" You whisper and he shrugs, kissing your temple as you wrap your arm around his waist and slot your knee between his as usual. Or, your new usual since Silverstone.

"P10. Not terrible." He hums, "you were right about the adjustments. I just wasn't used to the car yet, it made me lag behind."

"You'll do better tomorrow." You murmur through a yawn and Logan draws you into his chest a bit more, firm arm around your shoulder as he lifts his chin to tuck your head under it.

"We have a bit to nap, get some rest." He whispers and you hum back a yes, the warmth of your arranged husband and the soft whir of the world outside pulling you into another nap.

You find later that night that Logan's being overly self-ciritical once again. You do all you can to coax him to at least apathy, but lay awake with his head on your chest (the hotel room now with one bed), thinking.

The next day you sneak down to a corner store to buy a tiny notebook, tape, and glitter pens, and employ both Alex and Benny to help you with your task.

You scrawl the notebook full of reassurances, word even getting to engineers, media workers, analysts, who all take turns writing little notes for Logan (and some for Alex you give to Lily)

And then you spend the time Benny distracts Logan with training to sprinkle them around his drivers room and gear. A tiny smile on your face as the stupid little idea tickles you so much. Even writing one and taping it to his water bottle.

You manage to miss Logan before qualifying, but he drives exceptionally well and ends in Q2. And when he comes back, you have a cold water bottle in hand, something Benny had started giving you to encourage Logan to drink more water.

Cameras follow him into the garage, but cut before he gets to you. His helmet is long since discarded as he leans down to peck your cheek in thanks for the water, taking a few gulps as you ask about the race.

"The race was good, it was... I felt more confident with the car." He swallows another sip of water, "I think we have a good chance tomorrow. Must be thanks to your notes."

You beam when he says that, his hand firm on your back as he holds you close. There's an air around you both for a moment, and you wish the feeling could stay forever.

If only.

He ends up getting track limits on his qualifying run, bumping him back on the starting grid by a hefty amount. You literally cannot determine where he breaks limits, but even with Williams challenging it, the penalty stays. Logan tries to brush it off, to pretend it doesn't hurt him, but you can see the stress in his eyes.

Another night you fall asleep thinking. But other than the notes you already placed, you didn't have any more ideas.

And then he places out of points when Alex snags a podium, in a stroke of luck and a safety car. Logan doesn't take the cold water you offer him, barely greeting you as he slips by to his drivers room, and you try not to feel distraught.

Benny gives him space, as does everyone else, so you follow suit and walk to the paddocks. Which is where you and Logan are finally reunited after the race.

"Hey, baby." You murmur as he walks over, slumping into your hands as you let his face be molded by their grasp, "You drove well."

"I couldn't get around Lewis." Logan murmurs in complaint, and you can feel the pant up anger starting to burn in his cheeks, "if I hadn't been such a fucking dumbass."

"Hey." you chastise, squishing his face before he pulls himself away, "You're not a dumbass, you had a shitty penalty. Lewis is a really good driver, sometimes it's hard--"

"But I can be better." Logan interrupts you, and you go to speak again before he says, "You deserve better."

"What the hell are you talking about? Deserve better?" You ask, stepping towards Logan as he tries to retreat from you.

Logan groans, turning back sharp enough you step back to avoid his shoulder colliding with your outstretched hand. Gritting his teeth, he hisses out, "You can back out of this little arranged thing, stop being so cutesy and so kind and so loving to me, because I don't deserve it. You deserve someone who wins. Because you're so fucking amazing, and I'm just... whatever the hell this is."

You are genuinely shell shocked, but Logan just continues before you squeak out a very soft,

"But I love you. Like I... I genuinely do."

And then Logan goes to backtrack, claiming you're lying and that there no way you actually do. You watch him sputter, scraping for excuses and reasons you're lying and theres only one idea that pops in your mind. Damn the cameras, damn the people around you.

"I am hard to love and you're just gonna hurt yourself trying--" Logan says as you cup his jaw before you press up on your toes enough to lock your lips to his. There's a moment of hesitation before his arm slides around your waist as he breaks to reconnect you properly.

And when you pull back, your cheeks burn as you whisper, "I do love you. And I'd crawl with bleeding knees and palms for years if it meant one day, one day, I can make you see yourself the way I do."

Logan is just staring and you stammer again, "Sorry, was that too much?"

"No." He answers quick, "No, that was what I needed. Do it again."

And you laugh, tossing your arms around his neck to pull him into a proper kiss this time. The scattering of camera flashes like the fireworks you feel in your gut.

yn.fdotus

liked by alexalbon, flotus, williamsracing, and 998k others...

yn.fdotus: all because I really like this boy 🩵

tagged: logansargeant

oscarpiastri: finally you guys have the guts to be public

⤷ alexalbon: now everyone can see how disgustingly in love they are

⤷ yn.fdotus: oh you are one to talk, alex.

flotus: so cute !!

user1: HOW DID LOGAN PULL HER?

⤷ yn.fdotus: @ logansargeant idk how did you?

⤷ logansargeant: my american charm obviously

user2: sobbing. my parents.

taglist (thank you all so much <3!!)

@stinkyjax @kroissant-content @samantha-chicago @jpg3 @mickf1loverf2too

@nixisracing @h34rts4maisey @heartsfromtaeyong @a-beaverhausen

@purplephantomwolf @insanedeathwish @llando4norris @formulaonebuff

@vicurious28 @lady1505 @lozzamez3 @kqliie @barbsschumacher

[libraryraccoon]

How Amusing : Liyue P1

P1 <- P2 -> P3 (coming soon)

TW : Bad english, english isn't my first language.

Gender : GN

Pronouns used : They/Them

Other Infos : The people in Teyvat think they are an 'he'; No proofread; I was thinking of publish it on Quotev too.

The imposter had arrived in Liyue. Some citizens had seen him with Aether, walking quietly to the other side of the Wangshu Inn. They immediately told Keqing who told Ningguang, and just like that the news was spread : the impostor is in Liyue, and Aether is accompanying him, having betrayed them.

Many did not believe that Aether had betrayed them, Xiao was one of them. After all, why would Aether, so intelligent and wise, side with the imposter ?

But as he watched them, talked and walked around, he had to resign himself to the fact that yes, it was true, Aether had betrayed them.

“What ? Girl name ? Name have gender now ?!” ask the imposter.

“You will be surprised.” Said Aether, the traitor. “The mortals like to give a gender to everything that moves, even clothes.”

“CLOTHES TOO ?!” The impostor seemed shocked by this fact.

Xiao was in charge of espionage, he had to follow them and look for some kind of weakness in this impostor, without being noticed.

He must have followed them for hours - they never stopped walking except for the evening, when only there they made a small camp.

“I still don't understand why we have to stop.” admitted the impostor.

“Because compared to you, to have energy, I need to sleep and eat and drink.” Aether said, he seemed a little amused as the imposter huffed dramatically.

“But sleeping and resting is no fun !” the h/c haired man complained. “You know what is ? Chaos. Fire. Explosions.”

So the impostor don’t need to sleep and don’t like it ? And he also don’t like to rest ? Another proof that he wasn’t the real creator. Their creator love to sleep and rest, he say that it help him to think.

But, that also meant that the thing, this impostor, was not sleeping, so any easy capture - which was capturing him while sleeping - is impossible.

Aether ate and went to bed; the imposter had talked with him throughout the meal about visiting one of their old friends, unfortunately they did not say any names. The imposter hadn't eaten or drunk, and he watched Aether fall asleep, promising to keep watch that night - to which the blond responded with 'you always keep watch.  Just try not to kill anyone this time'.

After a few minutes, the impostor moved away a little. Xiao followed him, but at a turn, he just disappeared. Xiao looked around a bit, but couldn't find him - he had just vanished.

<----->

The Creator knew they were being followed, and so did Aether. Shortly after they arrived in Liyue, an adepti arrived to watch them from afar, to spy on them. The Creator did nothing and asked Aether to do the same. They wanted to see how far the adepti would go, what he would do.

But, after half a whole day and after they had understood that he would stay the night watching them; They lost their patience and decided to ask him directly why he was spying on them. Aether had told him that the Adepti were fighters, stopping at nothing, not that they were spies. Plus, he was bad at spy work, really 2/10, easily noticeable if you look up.

“You were spying on us.” Said the Creator for behind the Adepti – Xiao, Aether call him Xiao.

Xiao quickly turned around, brandishing his spear. The Creator blocked it pretty quickly, catching it before it hit them.

“Good reflexes.” admitted the Creator. “You're better at that than spying, that's for sure.”

The adepti gave what mortals call a glare. “How long have you known?” he asked - stupidly in the eyes of the Creator, they saw everything.

“The beginning. You're not very discreet.” says the eternal one. “Just look up to see you... Pretty disappointing if I'm honest.”

They had known many spies, the best, they had even trained some on Gallifrey a short time ago - a short time for them, a long time ago for those on the planet -.

“A beginner, right ?” they ask. “First time spying ?”

“That doesn’t matter.” The adepti didn't seem to really want to answer their question - not that they needed to, they already knew the answer just by looking at him. “What have you done ? To Aether.”

“Huh ? Aether ? What about him ?” ask confused the Creator. What was Aether doing here ? They know Teyvat saw him like a hero, but why asking that ?

“Aether. You have done something to him, this is the only explanation.”

“Of what ?”

“Him thinking you are the real creator, and not the impostor that you are.”

Oh- right, they are an impostor for the mortals of Teyvat, yeah, right. Oh ! How amusing their reactions will be when they will realize that they were wrong all along ! The Creator could not wait for this moment !

“They did nothing, and I always was on their side.” Said a voice from behind them. The Creator turned around to see their blond child - yes, their child, they adopted him - who seemed tired and angry at the same time. A very bad mix if you want their opinions.

“No, you’re smarter than that, Aether. He’s an impostor.” Xiao said, The Creator dropped the spear and moved away a little, wanting to give them some privacy.

“They are not.” Aether pressed a little on the pronouns - even after a month, they still didn't understand why pronouns were so important for mortals, they accept all pronouns- “They are the real Creator.”

And it was at this moment that The Creator slipped away without a sound, disappearing into thin air. The two seemed to know each other, to have a history between them, and they (The Creator) didn't want to get involved. They liked chaos and drama, not problems problems.

They appeared in the camp, and waited.

Aether returned 5 minutes, 43 seconds and 12 thousand seconds later, saying that they had to leave as quickly as possible.

“Don’t you need to sleep ?” asked the Creator.

“That don’t have any importance, we have to move before they get you.” Aether said, taking his stuff.

The Creator sighed before touching Aether's forehead, using a crumb of their magic to remove all the fatigue in the blond's body, replacing it with energy.

“I don’t want you to collapse from fatigue in the middle of walking.” is the only explanation they provided before starting to walk, Aether following them.

Tag list : @moosieman12345 @angelofdarkness2 @ash1

[heliads]

Let Me in Your Life (and I Swear I'll Never Leave It)

As one of Lewis Hamilton's oldest friends, you're sure he'll be nothing but happy for you when you're finally offered a Formula One contract. Lewis, however, remembers what competition like that can do to a friendship, and his reaction isn't what you expect.

masterlist

You don’t know it’s over until you see him.

That shouldn’t have been enough. It wouldn’t have been enough for anyone else. They would have seen his smile and thought that he was genuinely happy for you when you told him that all of your wildest dreams were finally coming true. So much of you wanted to believe him when he told you that he couldn’t be more proud that you almost convinced yourself of it.

Almost. Unfortunately, the part of you that has known Lewis Hamilton since you were a kid also knows his tells, and you watched the way his fingers twisted in front of him until you couldn’t take it any longer. Until you knew what he wouldn’t say to you on a perfectly good night like this, which is that Lewis was not pleased that you were finally entering Formula One, and no amount of wanting will fix that.

It cuts to the bone. This had been a lovely evening. You only get so many chances to spend time with Lewis outside of the media circus of a Formula One or Two paddock, so you really wanted to make this one count. You had even kept your good news to yourself just in case he wasn’t as thrilled about it as you were, feeling the secret burn against you all through the dinner at the nice restaurant whose menu you double, triple, and quadruple-checked to ensure that there were good vegan options. You withheld the news through wine, through pleasant laughter, even through the check, but you couldn’t keep it back afterwards.

The restaurant was nice enough. Lewis always looked good in expensive places. He fit in quite well in any scenario, but his smile was practiced and he never missed a social cue so long as he could help it. That’s what years of constant scrutiny does to you, you suppose; never again will the two of you be thirteen years old and utterly ignorant of the difference between salad and dessert forks. You miss the boy who could mess up around you. You haven’t seen him in a while, even ignoring both of your hectic travel schedules.

Lewis tends to get antsy after a heavy meal, the product of too much time spent around Mercedes-grade nutritionists and personal trainers, so the two of you went on a walk outside after leaving the restaurant. The air was crisp and cool, and dark enough that you could walk freely without being recognized. You had looked up at the stars overhead and made a wish that nothing would hurt you tonight.

Maybe you whispered the wish aloud as you said it, or maybe Lewis has always been able to read your mind and ruined the magic that way, because it wasn’t even half an hour before that desperate plea to the heavens was shattered along with your peace of mind.

You couldn’t keep it in any longer. All your life, you’ve wanted to make it to the Formula One circuit. Lewis has known this just about as long as you. You met him while karting, and you’ve been best friends ever since. You used to race everywhere– on the track, down the hall, whoever could make it to the door of their hotel room wins bragging rights for the next night at least– but over time, Lewis was able to make it up the Formula One ladder faster than you, and then you weren’t racing together any more but watching each other race in different circuits.

You did your best not to let it sting. Lewis has faced far more than his fair share of roadblocks. Maybe he always wanted it a little more than you, then, because no matter how hard you tried to follow in his path, your feet keep dragging in his dust. It took forever to get to F3, and you never thought you’d ever see the day when you made it to F2.

Now you’re just one good finish away from winning the Formula Two driver’s championship, and better still, you’re about to sign a contract with a Formula One team. After all this time, it’s finally yours. You’re still in talks about the nuances of the legal binding, but it’s basically in the bag.

Your family is aware, but you knew you needed to tell Lewis as well, even before the signing, because he’s basically your other half. You had always assumed that he would take it well, that he’d be just as thrilled for you as Nico was for Lewis when he first signed. When you bring up the subject, though, you can tell from the delicate shuttering of Lewis’ face that you were, for the first time in a long time, completely wrong about him.

The two of you are walking down a moonlit bridge when you finally say it. “I was meeting with an F1 team yesterday,” you tell him, “I think they’re going to sign me. We’ve been going over the contract for a while now and it’s basically all ironed out. The only thing left is to actually shake on it.”

You pause, waiting for the hearty congratulations he doled out when you made it to F3, then F2, but for F1, you’re only greeted with silence. You look at him, heart in your throat, but when you finally bring yourself to meet his eyes, you’re only greeted with– disappointment.

When the silence gets painful, Lewis coughs and looks away. “That’s– that’s great, Y/N. Really.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Really?”

Lewis has the grace to look ashamed. “I know I might not sound– it’s a fantastic accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” you say slowly, “but are you proud of me? Because you certainly don’t look it right now. And it’s not just an accomplishment, Lew, this has been my dream for years. You know that.”

“I do,” Lewis answers you, but his voice is distant and he hasn’t looked you in the eyes since you first brought up the news.

It makes your blood run cold in your veins. In all the scenarios you’d imagined of how he’d react, you pictured his jaw dropping with surprise, his face immediately lighting up, him immediately texting his brother and the rest of his family the news. You never expected that he would actually be unhappy about it.

“Then why are you acting like this?” You gesture at him. “At least fake a smile, Lewis, I know you can.”

He looks at you at last, and you wince at the genuine hurt blinking back at you. “Don’t do it, Y/N,” he says suddenly.

You feel as if the breath has been stolen out of your lungs. “What?”

“Don’t do it,” he repeats, “Go to Indycar or Le Mans or Race of Champions. Do something crazy, something fun. Hell, try them all. Don’t let this be the end-all, be-all of your racing aspirations.”

There’s no way you’re hearing him properly. “You think I shouldn’t join Formula One? After all this time practically killing myself to get in, you want me to just walk away?” You shake your head slowly. “You had better have a good reason for this, because you’re my oldest friend and I know that friends wouldn’t do this to each other. You could have just said you were happy for me.”

Lewis’ gaze turns pleading. “You don’t know what it’s like in there. We go for each other’s throats all the time. I can’t let it destroy us.”

The night is silent. You watch the water lapping at the shores below as if in a dream. All is dark. Even the stars seem burned out overhead. Nothing good has happened here. Nothing worth the light of the moon above.

He says, “I don’t want to lose you. Not like everybody else.”

You say, “If you don’t let me do this, you will have lost me before I even start.”

You give him one last chance to change his mind. When he stays silent, you turn on your heel and leave. The sound of your shoes clicking against the cobblestones is maddeningly loud, drowning out all but the tumultuous beat of your heart. He doesn’t try to stop you. He does not do anything at all.

You call a taxi. The ride is quiet. You have half a mind to direct the driver to a club or something instead so you don’t have to live with that engulfing silence any longer, but instead you just have him drive you to your door and leave you there. You barely make it inside before breaking down in loud sobs that wrack your entire body. He should have told you how much he wanted you there. He should have told you how much he wanted you.

You wait until your tears dry, then call up the team principal of the F1 team and tell him you’re interested in signing the contract as soon as possible. They’re glad to hear it, and pleased enough that they don’t hear the wobble of your voice on the other end.

The rest of the season passes without a hitch. You win the F2 championship and are able to announce your contract not soon afterwards. All of the F1 drivers who cross your path make sure to congratulate you, and every one of their declarations of praise only hurts twice as much when you remember the one man who hasn’t said a word to you yet.

Winter break is eventful, even more than you were expecting. There are a hundred forms to sign and a thousand videos to film, countless mechanics to meet and endless trainings to complete. You’re given enough team kits to clothe a small nation. You officially meet your teammate on your first tour of the team facilities, and he is perfectly civil to you, even kind. He isn’t Lewis, though, and that’s enough for you to be disappointed.

At last, you reach the week before testing starts for the new season. You’re in a hotel room booked under your new team. It’s strange being here now after wanting this for so long. For years, you’ve dreamed of what it would be like to finally be here, and now you’re flopped on your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if it’ll look different when you’ve raced in a Formula One car for the first time.

Truth be told, it’s terrifying. You thought you would know what to do by now, having repeated this process in the previous two series, but everything feels different now that you’re at the top. No one expects championships from a rookie in her first season, but you can’t help but feel that eyes are on you.

A knock on your door, and you’re immediately grateful to whoever it is for interrupting your relentless panicked musing on the infinite ways that tomorrow could go wrong. You pad over the door and open it without checking, expecting to be greeted by your teammate or your trainer or any one of the staff of your new team.

Instead, you swing open the door to find Lewis staring at you, hands in his pockets. You immediately jerk to a stop, so surprised that you even forget usual pleasantries like saying hello or asking how he’s been.

Lewis forgets too. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like centuries but could just be a few moments until he coughs, looks briefly at his feet and then back at you, and says, “I remember that you always overthink things the night before a big change. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

You nod a little too quickly. “I’m fine. Just, yeah, overthinking.”

A ghost of a smile flickers over Lewis’ lips, then disappears just as quickly. “Thought so. Do you mind if I come in? There’s actually a lot I need to say.”

An ugly, cruel part of your brain immediately whispers oh, now you have a lot to say? But you manage to shut it up before you say it and wordlessly gesture for him to enter the hotel room. You check the hallway before shutting the door, but no one’s there, no cameras. This isn’t a trap. It’s just a friend visiting a friend, something he used to do all the time before he decided that he would not be able to live with himself if he didn’t stop you from trying to reach your biggest dream.

When you head back inside, Lewis is leaning against the windows, idly peering outside. “You have a good view,” he notes.

You fold your arms across your chest. “You’re not here to discuss the perks of my hotel room.”

“No, I’m not,” Lewis agrees. “I’m here to apologize.”

This takes you by surprise. “You are?”

He nods. “I shouldn’t have tried to stop you. God knows I would have hated it if you had said something like that to me before I joined McLaren.”

Your brow furrows. “Then why did you say it to me?”

Lewis lets out a quiet, horror-struck sigh. “Because I meant part of it. I am terrified of losing you, Y/N. I know how competition can get in between friends. You know how well I know that. Nico’s already– we’re different now, and I can’t take it if I lose you, too.”

He breaks off, lost in thought, and you feel a pang in your heart as if struck by a blade. You and Nico were friends separate from the great doing and undoing of Lewis and Nico, but that was sort of inevitable. It feels as if every kid who was good at karting in your area eventually became friends, but all that did was give you a front row ticket to the so-called Silver War. What a terrible thing, to know someone like a brother and then only be able to speak to them through corporate meetups and scheduled interviews. What a horrific end to something that had once been, well, everything.

Your hands tense at your sides. “I’m not Nico.”

“I know that,” he says, almost frustrated, “I know. Trust me, I know. I have always known you. I know that we’ll be able to make it through anything, but I’m afraid of risking it. I knew at some point you’d get called up here, you’re too fast for them to ignore you, but I was hoping to have at least a little more time.”

You tilt your head to the side, frowning. “I thought you guessed already. Isn’t that why we scheduled that dinner?”

“No,” Lewis murmurs, “I scheduled that dinner because I wanted to tell you that I loved you.”

The ground has been pulled out beneath your feet. No, not just the ground– the very earth itself, every star in the sky and every heavenly body in the cosmos. You are abruptly removed from everything you have ever believed, because you know Lewis better than anyone and so you would have known if he loved you, you would have figured it out a long time ago. There is no way you wouldn’t have been able to tell. No way he could take you by surprise like this.

“No,” you whisper.

“Yes,” Lewis says simply. “I was going to do it after keeping it a secret for so long. And then you told me that we were going to be competitors, and I thought it was all going to be over. And I panicked and told you to leave, and you hated me, and it turns out I didn’t even need us crashing into each other on track to kill our friendship. I did that all by myself.”

“It isn’t dead,” you tell him fiercely. “Not in the slightest.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you. “We fought. We never do that.”

“That’s unrealistic,” you point out. “Everyone fights. Even married couples.”

“We’re not married, and you don’t even love me back,” Lewis argues.

You arch a brow. “How do you know that?”

“I would know,” he says without a trace of suspicion. 

God, he’s just as stubborn as you. Just as set in his own ways. Maybe that’s why it has always been the two of you, even after everything. Maybe that’s why you always chose him in every friend group, in every issue, in every race. No one understands you like Lewis, and no one ever will. No one will stand by your side no matter what, no one will say what you need to hear because no one knows exactly how you work like Lewis does.

Still, you can surprise him from time to time. He certainly doesn’t expect it when you cross the room in a few brisk strides, when you reach across the chasm of one fight and one great misunderstanding to kiss him. It takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing and what this means, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, because Lewis will never give up an advantage when it is offered to him and right now Lewis wants this more than anything. He wants you, more than anything.

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of it when you finish ahead of me in a race, are you?” He asks in a half-mumble against your lips.

You smile, and you can feel his returning grin when he kisses you again. “Absolutely not. You never let me off that easily when we were kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lewis points out.

“No,” you say slowly, “We’re not, are we?”

It is not a bad thing. In fact, looking at all the years you have, all the races together, all the plane tickets you’ll book side by side, all the hotel rooms you’ll share, you think you like this new era of your life quite a bit better than anything. Lewis would have to agree, if the shine in his eyes means anything at all. Both of you will never be the same, but you will never be like this again, either. We are all different, all the time, but the one thing that will never change is how you do it:  together, always together.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[pikapitou]

murk!!! TRICK or TREAT!!!!! 🙀😈🤡💀

happy halloweennnnn!!! here's MY 600 words of presumed deaddie I won't finish

While Eddie is missing, Buck makes breakfast. Lunch. Dinner, too. Three meals a day, with occasional baking before he ran through the bag of flour and the freezer couldn't hold any more cookies. Between tasks his thoughts skip. Work, laundry, dinner, work. He doesn't remember anything from the gaps. Sometimes he considers, distant like it's coming from another room—is this normal? Then he has to go wash the dishes by hand, because loading the dishwasher doesn't take long enough.

The only time his thoughts run continuously is when he's with Chris. Driving him to school or having dinner or watching something before bed. Those times Buck holds onto every detail. He sits fully inside of his aching body with wet eyes and tries to—he just tries really hard. People keep telling him without telling him—you're not doing this right. You have to prepare him. Buck—can't do that, so he made Chris therapy appointments. When they drove to the first one Chris crossed his arms and refused to leave the passenger seat. They sat in the parking lot for ten minutes before Buck gave in or gave up and took them to In & Out instead.

This isn't like after the shooting, where Eddie was in a real physical room that you could visit, have face-times in, imagine in clear, crisp detail. Half of Buck had been in that hospital room. Buck could say: your dad is sleeping. Your dad is okay. Eddie's okay right now, because of course he's okay, they just... don't know where he is. So half of Buck is—floating, un-anchored. Somewhere. And all Buck can say is, we have to be patient and trust him, okay? while Chris stares at him like he's thinking something Buck really doesn't want him to say.

Bobby's in Eddie's kitchen. Buck doesn't remember letting him in, but he's here. Last time he was here was after Buck called him, vaguely explaining that Eddie was struggling, that his friends from the army were dead. There was a reason for Bobby to be there, then. There's not a reason for him to be here now, because Eddie is okay.

"How are you holding up?" Bobby asks, carefully neutral expression on his face.

"It's hard," Buck says, because people react better to that than I'm fine. They react a whole lot better than they do to Why are you asking me that? Why aren't you looking for Eddie? Why aren't you letting me look for Eddie?

"Have you..." Bobby lifts his mug of tea then puts it back down. Did he get that himself? Did Buck make it for him? Buck blinks at it until he hears his name, "Buck. Have you called Eddie's parents?"

Buck stares at him.

"They haven't found him," Buck says. "They haven't found him yet, so why do I have to call them?"

"They deserve to know, Buck."

"Why? They don't care about him. They just want Chris."

An expression crosses over Bobby's face—pained and uncomfortable and very, very sorry. Everyone looks at him like that lately. "Having family around could be good for Chris."

Buck doesn't understand. Abuela is here. Pepa is here. Buck is—it dawns on him: Bobby doesn't know. Nobody knows. Buck isn't even sure if Chris knows. And that's fine, because nobody was supposed to know, because the only time it matters is if Eddie were—which he's not.

So it doesn't matter what Bobby thinks.

A knock on the door again. Buck doesn't know how much time has passed. He did a shift, so it has to be at least twenty-four hours. A flight from El Paso to LA takes two. Eddie's parents are standing on the doorstep.

[haileyp4l]

Summary: Drew was on Vacation with his family. But now he is home earlier than expected.

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/n: That's my first post but I hope you like it. Please don't mind the mistakes, english isn't my mother-language

It is weekend. You are alone in your apartment. You listen to Lana Del Rey ~ Yes to heaven. You dance infront of your large window. While you dance you enjoy the beautiful view. It's dark outside. It's been about half an hour since the sun went down behind the houses. You kind of miss Drew (like always when he's not around). The last time you spoke on the phone was two days ago. He is in Rome with his family at the moment. You couldn't come with him because of your job. At first you were sad that you couldn't come but now you're just looking forward to see him again. He should come in one week. And you are very excited. You've planned to go on a date with him as soon as he's back. You have planned a nice picnic with a spot where you can see the stars perfectly. Usually he's always planning dates (which are always great of course) but now you wanted to surprise him! So you're dancing infront of the window... you feeling hungry but you want to listen to the song first. "Say yes to heaven... say yes to me" you sing along loudly. You spin and just enjoy the moment. "Beautiful like always" you hear a voice behind you...but before you can scream you recognize the voice. "Drew" you yell happily as you turn around and run into his arms. "Hey darling" he says and laughs. He's holding you tight and you're just so happy to be in his arms again. Then you let go of him and look into his eyes. You are confused. "Why are you back again you shouldn't be back until next week"?! you ask. "Tbh...I couldn't take it anymore without you, not even another week! You smile. "Whatever I'm so happy to have you back" he said. "And guess what" he continues talking while raising his hand, holding a bag that's little too familiar to you. "Really???" you ask excited "you drove halfway across town for my favorite meal?" you continue. "I would Do anything for you" he answer. you ask: "Anything?".... "Anything!" he answer. You start blushing. He smiles and gives you a gentle kiss. _You hear the phone ringing_ "You answer the phone and I'll get the table ready for dinner" Drew says. "Ok, Love" you answer. You go to the phone and answer the call. "Hello?" you ask. "Oh hello dear this is Drew's mom". "Ah hello Jodi, what's up? Is everything Okay?" you ask. "Yes everythings good I just wanted to ask if Drew got home safely" "Yeah he is here and everything is fine" you answer. "Is he better now?" Jodi ask. "What do you mean was anything going on while on vacation?". "Didn't he tell you why he came home?"she sounds like she's surprised. "Uhm...he just said that he came because he couldn't stand being without me any longer. But it sounded like he was joking" you answer confused. "Oh he was a pretty much understated!" she said. "What do you mean?" now you're really curious. "Well, he was so quiet and absent the whole time from the beginning of the holiday. He didn't really leave the room and when he did he hardly said a word! One day his brother Logan asked him what he was thinking about all the time. He only replied that he has to think about you all the time and what you are probably doing now so alone. He also replied that he wished you were with him. We just noticed that he is not happy. But we knew exactly how he would be happy again. So we told him yesterday that we booked him a flight back home to you. When we told him that, it was the first time we'd seen him laugh so genuinely since the holiday started". "Woah" is the only thing you answer because you are speechless. "Well I have to hang up now but believe me Drew has never loved anyone like you".

_she hangs up_ You are shocked. But somehow you're happy too. You rush into the kitchen, where Drew is just putting the food on the plates. You go to him and hug him from behind. You hold him tight and don't let him go. "What is the hug for? I don't want to take notice, but..." he asks laughing. "Oh... I just realized how much I missed you!" you answer. "Ah that's a good reason" he said while smiling. "And..." You continue. "Yes?" he asks. "I love you so much Drew Starkey. I love you so so so much!" You see him blush."I love you even more, Y/N Starkey."You have to smile because he called you Starkey. You're not married yet but you already love it! " yk what?" you ask "Next time I'll come with you on vacation" you continue. "Really?" he starts smiling "Yep, everything for you Love" you say. Suddenly he goes to his cell phone and turns on "Yes to heaven." He takes your hand and pulls you close. He puts his hand on your hip and starts dancing to the song with you. " Y/N?" he asks quietly "Yes babe?" you ask. "You are the Love of my Life" you don't know what to say and just lean on him. "I can only tell you the same thing, my Love". You can feel him smile. There you are, dancing together again in your apartment. You could dance forever with Drew, the man of your dreams!

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Life in China: Observations

I've been living here for a while and decided to share some things that I thought were pretty interesting!

Cheese is not really a thing here Unless you go to an international store like Aldi or Walmart (which are pretty much non-existent in smaller cities ), trying to find cheese is pretty difficult.

Class attendance Attendance is really strict. It doesn't matter how ill you are, you still need to go to hospital or a clinic to get a doctors note. Even then you get only half a day excused rather than the entire day.

Studying Maybe you could have gotten away with not doing your reading back at home, but the studying stereotype is true. In my home uni we'd learn around 20 characters per week plus the usual grammar and homework. Here? Try 70-90 characters plus the usual self-studying and quizzes, and I'm not even in the advanced or intensive class!

Classroom vs Real life chinese Obviously the language spoken in real life is different than the one in the textbook, but it can be drastically different, especially the dialects which are pretty interesting, but at times diffult to understand.

Pacing yourself with the food Not to say that you shouldn't enjoy yourself, but the food will take some adjusting to for many people. Not even in terms of spice, just the type of meals and the commonly used ingredients require time to get used to them, especially if you don't have these types of meals regularly.

English isn't widely spoken (duh) Despite the whole "big cities are very international, you'll have no problems" shtick, outside of international communities English isn't that widely used so knowing some basic Chinese is necessary.

Phone is my new appendage From paying at the grocery store to sending your teacher your homework and paying your phone bill, wechat is the multi-functional daily necessity that you can't go without. In short, you will probably be superglued to your phone whether you like it or not as it turns out.

Public transport is the way In the larger cities at least, the metro is really well-developed and air-conditioned! A life-saver during the summer, as crowds of people crammed together like sardines during the hot and humid months of summer and early autumn would be unbearable with the a/c.

[sporco-filth]

Slob City - Part 5

Judging by my poll from a while ago, quite a few people have been looking forward to the continuation of Lee's adventures in Slob City.

Synopsis: Lee is invited to join Bob to dinner at a local restaurant.

(also this is my 200th post so that's cool. hopefully there'll be many to come)

Lee was lying on the couch for his afternoon nap when the doorbell rang. "Guh?" he jolted up, spilling a half-eaten bag of popcorn that had been lying on his stomach. He got up, scratching his bum and yawning. He didn't remember ordering any food, so who could be at the door? He walked over and pulled it open. There in the hallway was Bob. "Oh, what's up?" he asked. "Nothing much," Bob replied. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner. I know a really great place that's just across the street." Lee felt his stomach gurgle at the mention of food. "Sure, I'll just get dressed." Bob scratched his head, puzzled. "But you're already dressed." Lee looked down at his clothes. He was dressed in a white singlet stained with a glob of sauce from when he ate a pizza a few nights before, his lower half was covered only by a pair of dark grey briefs he was wearing for the third time without washing and on his feet he just had a pair of socks. "I can't go out like this," Lee said. "I mean, I look so disheveled and indecent!" "I don't think I know what those words mean, but you look fine to me. Come on!" Not letting Lee say another word, Bob (who himself was wearing only a filthy pair of holey pyjama pants) pulled him out. "If we don't get there quick enough they might run out of all the good stuff!"

Downstairs, on the street, Lee spotted the restaurant in question. He could feel the grease even from this distance. He went ahead to cross the road. "Where are you going?" Bob asked, fishing out a key from his pocket. "My car's here." "But… we can just walk." Bob looked at him like he had suggested they walk through burning coals and into a pit of sharks. Lee decided it was better not to argue and went over to Bob's vehicle. The inside was incredibly comfortable, the chairs in particular were massive and so soft, but the whole interior was filled with trash, the handles sticky with sugary and oily residues and there was a pervading scent of stale farts.

Bob pulled out from the curb, did a U-turn and parked in an empty spot right outside the restaurant. "Here we are," Bob said, getting out. "Velma's, one of my favourite joints in the city. I choose to buy my apartment almost entirely to be right outside it." The two stepped inside and were greeted by a waiter dressed in a t-shirt that exposed his gut and ill-fitting tracksuit pants. "Velma! Bob's here!" he yelled out towards the kitchen. A woman poked out, dressed in an apron that looked like it had never seen the inside of a washing machine and which strained against her burgeoning belly. Upon seeing Bob she smiled and came to say hello. "If it isn't my most loyal customer!" she gave him a hug, still holding a wooden spoon in one hand. "And who's this you've got with you?" She gave Lee a look up and down. "He looks like he's about to fade away!" Lee was suddenly aware, despite the fat slowly building on his frame, he was the thinnest person in the room by a wide margin. He felt oddly embarrassed. "I'm Lee," he said, smiling. "Bob's talked this place up, so I'm looking forward to tasting your food." "I bet he has!" Velma smiled at Bob. She stuck the spoon down the back of her skirt and scratched her arse with it. "Don't worry! It'll be a meal you won't forget!" Lee was starting to feel a fraction queasy and was now wondering if Slob city even had hygiene standards for restaurants.

The two were ushered to their seats as Velma returned to the kitchen. Bob's phone beeped. "Oh! I better be careful," he said. "I'm almost halfway to my daily step limit." Lee looked up from the giant menu. "Step limit?" "Yeah, the recommended 200 steps a day max." "200?" "Yeah, I know! As if you'd ever reach that!" "No, I mean, I used to aim for 10,000 a day." Bob stared. "You're joking, right?" Lee shook his head. "No, I'm not. Look." He pulled out his phone and flicked the calendar in his fitness app back a few weeks. "10,507, 11,005…" "What is that app?" Bob asked. "It doesn't look like the Lazyr app." "It's not, it's…" he paused. "What's Lazyr?" "You don't have Lazyr? It's the best!" Bob gave Lee his phone. The screen was smudged with greasy fingerprints and had crumbs and lint stuck in the crevices. "It's an app where you can keep track of how many hours you've been sitting, sleeping, watching TV and stuff. You can record what food you eat and all sorts of things. If you achieve your goals, it'll reward you with discounts for fast food and groceries and even gaming consoles or TVs! It also warns you when you've moved too much. It's the perfect way to monitor and improve your inactivity." Lee flicked through it. Most days Bob was achieving at 23 hours of sedentary activities, the only days he didn't was when he spent the entire day on his arse. "I see," Lee said, not sure if he should be impressed or disgusted. "Here, I'll send you an invite to download it. If you accept it, I get a month's supply of chocolate for free." Lee's phone buzzed and he saw the notification. With Bob waiting expectantly, he opened it up and accepted the invitation. The app, its icon a picture of a couch, downloaded onto his home screen. He put the phone away. He wasn't planning on using the app anytime soon, but he was happy to humour Bob. "Now let's order! You have to get the burger, it's massive!"

Much as Lee expected, the menu had nothing remotely healthy on it. He let Bob decide on the food, given he knew what was good, and before too long the first few dishes arrived. Their starters were platters of friend onion rings, with an array of condiments and sauces to dip them into. "Wow! These are the crunchiest onion rings I've ever had!" "Yeah, their quintuple fried. The fifth fry is with lard, and it's what really adds to that crunchiness." The next course was the burgers. Lee stared at the stack. "Uh… how do I eat this? I don't have any cutlery." The burger was far too large to fit into his mouth. It oozed with sauces and mayonnaise and melted cheese. Bob had already dug in. "Jusherterah," he said, mouth full of food. Lee had no idea what he meant, but guessed there was no other way forward but to try. The burger was too big for his hands to really get a grip, but he did his best and took a bite. Bits of meat and pickles and cheese slopped out onto the table and down the front of his singlet. But Lee wasn't paying attention; he was in taste paradise. "Ohh…" he sighed. It was the best burger he'd ever had.

Despite its massive size and his protesting stomach, Lee valiantly pushed on and managed to eat the whole thing, licking his fingers and picking up crumbs off the dirty tabletop. "That was so good," he smiled, patting his stomach. He felt a belch brewing and, wanting to be polite in public, forced it back down with a tell-tale gurgle. The restaurant, which had been a hubbub of chatter, suddenly went silent. "Huh?" Lee asked, looking around. Bob stared at him, aghast, as Velma stepped out of the kitchen. "What?" she asked flatly. "Is my food not good enough for ya?" Lee was confused. "N-no! It was great!" "Yeah, right," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Bob, I can't believe you'd bring some lowlife scum like this into my restaurant." "You have to forgive him, Velma, he's new here, he has all these weird ideas, he probably just doesn't know, please he's a good kid, please!" Lee was not quite sure what was going on. He tried to retrace his steps when he felt another surge of gas build in his belly. This time, in his panic, it caught him by surprise and out erupted a massive burp. "BEEE-EEEEE-UUURRRLLCCHHH!!!" The tension in the room dissipated. Velma smiled. She patted him on the back. "Now that's more like it! Sorry if I scared ya, I guess Bob's right about you. I'll leave you two to enjoy the rest of your meal." When she was gone, Lee turned back to Bob. "What was that about?" Bob shook his head. "Didn't your mother teach you never to hold in your burps at the dinner table? It's rude!" Lee blinked. "I see. I-I'm sorry?" "It's OK, I'm just glad nothing bad happened." Lee had just finished off his sides (a bowl of chips loaded with a myriad of toppings and a 'salad' that consisted of slices of cheese, bacon and deep-fried croutons covered in some kind of heavy, cheese-like dressing) when dessert arrived. It was a giant brownie, big enough to qualify as a cake, ladened with ice cream and chocolate sauce. Lee wasn't sure he could get it all down, but once again he pushed his stomach to its limits. "Whew," he sighed, rubbing his distended gut. "Good thing I'm not wearing pants, or I would've had to unbutton them!" Lee's singlet, now dirtier than it was when he'd entered, could no longer fully cover his body. His belly button just barely peeked out from under it. He burped. Bob gave him an approving nod. "Enjoyed yourself?" "Yeah, though I don't want to be eating like that every day." "What d'you mean?" "I mean, imagine how fat I'd get. I'm already putting on weight as it is." Bob cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong with being fat?" Lee flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it as an insult! I just meant, I like to keep fit." Bob snorted. "What for? I mean, tell me with a straight face that 'exercise' and…" he was at a loss for words. "What do you call it when you eat like… whatever that green stuff is called." "Vegetables? Dieting, you mean?" "Whatever, yeah, that. Tell me that doing that is better than the meal you just ate. The feeling of all that delicious food siting down in your gut, that feeling of fullness and satisfaction. BURRRP! Ah, it's so good!" Lee rubbed his belly in thought. Maybe Bob wasn't wrong, and it wasn't like anyone here would judge him if he put on weight.

They drove home and Lee plonked himself down on his bed. His gut was still hard as a rock and though he was tired he was still too uncomfortable to properly lie down and sleep. With nothing better to do, Lee opened his phone and was greeted by the sight of the Lazyr app. Out of curiosity, he opened it up and was prompted to set up an account. The app then suggested he fill in today's meal. To his surprise, it had a collection of the menus of every restaurant in town, and he simply had to select Velma's and the food he'd had and ta-da: his diet for today was inputted. "Wow that is a lot of calories," he said, staring wide eyed at the number. He looked at his stomach. It was all in there, slowly turning into fat. He patted his gut gently, smiling. "I guess I can see why Bob's proud of his belly: it is hard work to grow it."

[takami-takami]

Trigger warning: restrictive eating (medical), calorie numbers, weight, emeto. LONG SRY

I will say though. Now that it's gastroparesis awareness month! My story with gastroparesis.

Today, I ate a meal with my family. I ate rice, chicken without oil, and baked empanadas with ground chicken in them. And even though my mom had to cook me a separate plate that wasn't deep fried like everyone else's, I feel so at peace.

Today when I was at the doctor's office getting a physical form signed for school, my doctor turned to me and smiled and said, "I'm not telling them about your gastroparesis for stomach issues. You know where you are. Stable!" And I genuinely lit up and nodded.

There was a good period of my life where I was only eating 600-800 calories a day. I slept propped up to aid motility, I woke up every morning with pain and would wake up in the middle of the night. I had shakes and tremors when I took my medicine. I was tired, cold, underweight. I developed agoraphobia because I was so terrified of getting sick outside and not having my room to go run and hide in.

I had anxiety attacks about my food getting contaminated, and I yelled at people who touched or moved my food like a starved animal. Like, I genuinely felt like one.

I remember when I found the first nutrition shake I could keep down. After drinking one per day, I noticed I didn't drag my feet down the steps anymore. I actually did a little skip. And I felt so much joy and told everybody I knew, I can skip again! I could dance to music for a short amount of time again!

I remember how devastated and scared I was when Orgain changed the recipe to appeal to diet culture instead of health. I went right back to that dark place.

But I pushed myself, and once I noticed my volume intake limit increasing, I knew I had to start varying my diet because my gp was improving. So I dealt with refeeding, and it was hard. But I did it!

Over the past three years, I have slowly gotten better and better, more able to tolerate more volume and more foods. I stopped my SSRI antidepressant at the advice of my GI, and that definitely helped over the past year and a half. I also healed more from my trauma, which I do genuinely think helped me as well.

Now I weigh enough to donate blood again! I went to Japan and ate at restaurants! I get crepes with my sibling and the blueberries make me a little sick but I eat them anyway because I'm not so afraid anymore! I can go out with people to eat! I can eat with my family!!!!!!

Now, I just avoid high fat, high fiber foods and don't eat raw, unblended veggies/fruit. And I'm genuinely fine. I can literally check the nutrition label and EAT THAT NEW FOOD? RIGHT THERE? AS LONG AS IT'S LOW FAT/FIBER? THAT'S CRAZY!!!!! THAT'S CRAZY.

I'm just so happy. I have no idea how I managed back then, because I'm so fucking happy now. I'm genuinely happy, and I'm not in pain every day. Now I only experience pain if I eat something I'm not supposed to. That's so crazy. Genuinely.

I am very grateful. I have never felt something more soul-crushing than gastroparesis. It's a terrible diagnosis, and no one wants to study it because it's rare and a cure isn't "profitable". But it is a very, very painful diagnosis, and the suffering is real.

I'm just happy to be okay again. We genuinely need to find a cure because no one should have to live like that.

[poxsonmenace]

SENSES & OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.

WHAT DOES JIM SMELL LIKE?

Jim’s natural scent could be described as mildewed lilac, fresh and almost redolent, but so faint that one would have to nuzzle against his neck in order to get a whiff. Though that natural scent often gets overshadowed by his cologne and aftershave, which carries notes of sandalwood, orange blossom and rosemary, all mixing together to create the perfect warm, woody yet subtly sweet aroma.

WHAT DO JIM'S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Due to not working any labour intensive jobs, his hands are soft to the touch without the need for moisturiser. They are however naturally cold, probably due to poor circulation, so he sometimes buries his hands in his pockets to help warm them up.

WHAT DOES JIM USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

 Jim's a workaholic and often forgets to eat throughout the day; save for the odd apple or piece of lightly buttered toast to pair with his black coffee. If he remembers or has time to cook, then he usually goes all out for his evening meal; often cooking things from scratch and using high quality fresh ingredients. He has quite the refined palate and a simple ready meal won't do.

DOES JIM HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

He doesn't sing often and isn't professionally trained, but he can hold a note beautifully and likes to play with pitch quite a bit when he feels particularly playful. Technically, his range would be considered as a countertenor (mezzo-soprano).

DOES JIM HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR TICS?

That he does, and they're not exactly for the fainthearted either. Aside from indulging in a smoke on occasion, he has been known to put blade to skin (usually his inner right bicep to keep the scars concealed) when his bouts of mania become too consuming. His mind never ever shuts off and sometimes unresolved trauma from his abusive upbringing can rear it's ugly head, sending him into a spiral where the only escape is to cause himself physical pain. This is partly the reason why he seeks constant distraction.

WHAT DOES JIM USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR?

Whether he's out and about being an absolute menace, or he's in his own apartment, you'll always find him in a perfectly tailored suit - usually Westwood in make, and complimented by cufflinks or a little tie pin. The colour palettes sometimes shift from beige to blue, but he does prefer the deeper and darker colours.

IS JIM AFFECTIONATE? HOW MUCH? HOW SO?

One could argue that Jim doesn't have an affectionate bone in his body, but that's not entirely true. If he's fallen in love with the person then the edges of his personality soften towards them quite a bit, and he's prone to initiate public displays of affection. But getting to that point is long and gruelling, as Jim sees love/sentiment as a vulnerability to be snuffed out, and will always opt to be someone's enemy than their lover. Being hated is much easier.

WHAT POSITION DOES JIM SLEEP IN?

Whether he's in his own bed or someone else's (which doesn't happen often as he prefers his own) he will always sleep curled up on his side, usually with his face half covered by the duvet because he has a habit of forgetting to close the curtains at night, only to wake up cursing at the sun for blinding him in the morning. If he's sleeping next to someone, he will almost instinctively bury himself close to their side when he wakes to use them as a shield, whether that person is his partner or not.

COULD YOU HEAR JIM IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

Due to Jim having a soft and melodic voice, it can't be heard at all from outside the room. If he suddenly erupts in anger or frustration about something (which isn't uncommon), then that voice has enough bite and power to it that it would carry throughout the entire building. But most times, he doesn't need to yell to intimidate due to how cold and devoid of all sanity it can appear.

TAGGED BY: @storyuntrue TAGGING: @endlessxdream @eyeless-smiles @bullsh1tterz @fangsforhire @governmentofficial @kingofthewebxxx @burnedtoacrisp

[gwendolynlerman]

I'm in New York City for the week, and today I went to Chinatown and bought some Chinese pastries. I bought a red bean cake (紅豆蛋糕), a winter melon cake (老婆餅), and a mooncake (月饼). The lady was so nice that she gave me four fortune cookies for free! I had wanted to order in Mandarin, but (as always) I chickened out and only managed to say 谢谢你啊 and 再见 🙃

Today is Thanksgiving, and everyone seemed to be extra nice. The day has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for me, though. I was annoyed because I missed Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade by half an hour because I had an online exam and presentation in the morning.

Then, I was hangry because it was 2:30 p.m. and I couldn't find an Italian restaurant that was open and not incredibly expensive. I ended up in a semi-fancy one, where I ate a $21 margherita pizza 🙃 The servers were really nice, but I made a bit of a fool of myself while trying to leave a tip. This is the second time I've been to a restaurant in the U.S. and I didn't know that you can pay the meal, write the tip on the receipt, and then they will charge the tip on your card, so I was like "But don't you need me to swipe my card again for the tip?". I bet they were probably thinking that I was dumb 😂 After I finally understood it, I said "Sorry, I'm not from around here" ("Around here" meaning "This country" xD), which was even lamer.

On a more disturbing note, I did see a guy talking to himself in the subway. He also insulted some cops that were on the opposite platform, and they just laughed, which made him madder. I would have thought that insulting the cops is a crime, but maybe it isn't 🤷🏻‍♀️ And I randomly passed by a crime scene, probably a murder one, because the ambulance left without turning the lights and didn't seem to be in a rush.

Well, that's NYC for you 🙃

[dimonds456]

so. apparently i'm malnurished. (vent/PSA below)

Protip: when you move out to live on your own, DO NOT only eat microwavable food. This will actually kill your body.

I am now at a point where I cannot eat anything that has preservatives or too much sodium (salt) in it. I do not know how to cook for myself, and am now living on nightmare mode because my brain is actively rejecting anything I eat that isn't fresh. I've been okay so far, but my weight, strength, general brain-ing, and other disabilities have all been on a steady decline since I moved out of my parent's house two years ago.

My mental state has also been spiraling with it. My anxiety is 10x worse than it's ever been in my life, causing me to panic over the smallest little things for no real reason. Now that I know that my diet has been slowly killing me, this makes sense.

It also explains why I'm so fucking cold all the time, or why all my symptoms for all of my disabilities have gotten worse. I cannot even take my 5-minute walk home from work without being winded, or even play piano because my arms will hurt from holding them out for too long, simply because I do not have enough energy/strength in my body because I wasn't eating correctly.

This time last year I was convinced I was going to die, and part of the reason why was because A) I was on the wrong dosage of methamizole (which I need to live) and B) I kept missing doctor's appointments. And, now, apparently C) because all I'd been eating at the time was those $1 pot pies and Ramen food packs.

I physically cannot eat frozen foods anymore, I actively cannot. Like literally cannot, my body won't let me even swallow it.

I'm literally living on Sudden Death Mode because this has been building for two years and I never fucking realized until about a month and a half ago, and didn't do anything about it until last fucking week.

Don't do this. PSA.

I now have to speed-learn how to cook my own meals, by myself, while juggling work and taking into account how many spoons (read: energy) I have for that day and trying to just make it. If I don't have the energy to cook anything, then I won't have any food for the next day, and then that'll make me have even less energy.

I'm realizing now that this shit, this shit right here, is probably the core of why I've been acting so off recently. It all stems back to what I've been eating. It's been actively affecting my brain for TWO YEARS, like no shit I don't feel as creative as I did before I left, I've been eating nothing but garbage and now my body is starting to rot with it!

Hopefully I can get the hang of cooking fast, otherwise I am fuuuucked.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

A Grid Thanksgiving

Logan Sargeant x OC

"And that closes up this wrap up for Vegas, we'll see you all next week in Abu Dhabi," an official closes, glancing around the room for someone to take the microphone from him, Logan Sargeant of all people being the one to do so, stepping on to the stage in an unusual move.

"Uh, if the grid could stick around for just a couple minutes that'd be great," the Williams driver requests, drivers left and right sharing looks.

And they wait, the crews and principles exiting the room before Logan, now without the microphone, has everyone crowd around.

"What's up kid?" Daniel is the one to ask, one brow raised at the American driver.

"I actually was sent on a mission from the missus-"

"You have a missus?" Max asks, the idea setting in over the last few races that he may not be all that young anymore.

Logan chuckles, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck with a nod. "Yeah, I'm going to try to not take that as an insult."

"That's not what he meant," Charles corrects, waving his hand. "You just do not seem as the type to settle down young and we haven't seen any woman with you around the paddock or online."

Logan knows they're right, but that doesn't change the fact that he's tired of always experiencing these assumptions.

"Welp, for eight months now we've been married, her names Brooke, and she sent me to work today with one request."

"Which was?" Oscar questions, expecting something outside the box from the woman who somehow manages his close friend.

"If you all out be available and on location next Tuesday, we've rented a rental apartment rather than a hotel room, and she was hoping you all and your significant others may be willing to join us for Thanksgiving."

"Isn't that typically on Thursdays?" Lando asks, already knowing the answer but hoping for something more.

"It is, but with the race and everything we won't be able to make it home to be with our families, so she got her heart set on cooking a traditional thanksgiving meal for all of you," Logan explains, knowing the request may be a stretch in a lot of places. As much as they respect one another, they are also all still competitors, even if Max and Red Bull had already won. "Its just an open invite, she just really loves the concept of taking a day to appreciate what you're grateful for and keeps saying she's grateful for all of you, even though she only knows you two," He finishes explaining, gesturing to Alex and Oscar. "And none of you have to come, absolutely don't feel like you've got to."

"When will you need numbers by?" Max speaks up, giving the boy a rare grin for a competitor. "I'll have to see if Kelly and P will be traveling with me."

And Logan beams, because at the very least, at least a few drivers are considering the offer.

"Sunday or Monday, Brie isn't planning to shop for anything until Monday."

Max nods, a simple gesture to wrap up the impromptu meeting.

——————————————————————————————————

"Baby, you said to invite the grid, why are you so surprised?" Lo questions with a chuckle, making me want to throw my whisk at him/

"Because I wasn't expecting a good chunk of them to text saying yes! How does Lewis Hamilton even have my number?!"

"He asked me for it so I sent it in the driver's chat," He explains simply, taking a finished dish from my hands to the kitchen island that we set up as a buffet. "Who ended up being available?"

"Carlos, Charles and Alex, Lando, Oscar and Lily, Lewis, Max with Kelly and P, Pierre and Kika, Yuki, George and Carmen, and Alex and Lily," I list smiling brightly at how bustling this home will be in no more than half an hour. "Valterri and the Haas men texted saying they would love to come but they were going home for a beat instead of straight here," I explain, scooping the whipped topping into the bag and twisting it shut.

"Wow, half the grid, good job Baby," Lo compliments, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my temple.

"You're just lucky I didn't invite your boss just to get more baby snuggles," I can't help but jest, but he doesn't look remotely upset at the idea, smiling with a look in his eyes that I just can't place. "What's that look for?"

"You act like I wouldn't love to see you wondering around with a baby, although I'd prefer it to be ours," He admits, making my heart soar. It's before I can answer however that the doorbell rings, calling him away from a conversation we've had many times.

"Brie!" Lily exclaims as Oscar quietly follows her in, Lando following his teammate.

"Lils, it's been too long," I greet her with a hug, pulling both of the Mclaren drivers into hugs as well. "You need to come to more races, I'm always lonely."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Kelly asks, announcing her little family's arrival, Max clapping Lo on the back as her little girl runs into my legs.

"B!"

"P! I've missed you sweetie," I coo, pulling her onto my hip and kissing her cheek, hugging Kelly and Max.

"P, what do we say to Brie and Logan?" Max prompts, smiling softly at his little girl and I.

"Thank you for inviting us to your American holiday!" She thanks, kissing my cheek before fist bumping Lo.

"I am so happy you all could come," I assure, looking around the progressively filling kitchen. "I love that we're all able to be together for one of my favorite holidays."

She smiles brightly, Max coming up to take her from me with the reasoning that I should be greeting guests as Alex and his Lily walk in, the Lily's being introduced.

And I can't help but smile around me, my heart warm as Lo joins me, wrapping me in his arms.

"Is this everything you wanted?" He asks, words whispering in my ear as he leans on my shoulder.

"Everything and more Lo, everything and more."

[hozierandrew]

well a few weeks back i reblogged a prompt post from @novelbear & offered to write a keero drabble for anyone who wanted it! @lighttailoring requested one w the prompt "one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze" and i tried my best. the context is that dedra finds out about the existence of the death star and shows up late to dinner at syril's apartment; i've only seen andor the one time a few months back so i hope this isn't totally ooc and that my writing is half coherent. thanks again @lighttailoring for the request!

The soft tapping on the datapad slowed to a halt as Syril reviewed the order he had placed. If he had his way, he would prepare Dedra a proper meal, to serve as a respite from her responsibilities. Not that she would make enough time to appreciate it, he thought bitterly. The food would go to waste. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Like Dedra always says, the Empire comes first. I can’t fault her for that.

His gaze wandered over to the window, the Coruscant night twinkling outside. Dedra had messaged him as soon as he arrived home, Start without me. Meeting running long. 

He had no idea how much time that bought him but decided to pull up a report he was working on. Joining the ISB resulted in difficult, sometimes grueling, work but he embraced it. Syril welcomed the distraction from his thoughts, which had run rampant at the Bureau of Standards. Too much time to wallow and self-reflect. He wanted to contribute to something worthwhile and Dedra, of all people, enabled him to.

After the Ferrix riot, she couldn't deny his tenacity and recommended him for a position. Of course, he was thankful and of course he was as vigilant as ever in his work, but he was still no closer to Andor. Or Axis for that matter. His reports filled page after page with petty offenses and minute matters. Matters so small as to be completely inconsequential. Sharing meals like this with Dedra broke up the monotony of his days, as lucky as he knew he was to have them.

As Syril continued tapping on his datapad, he heard a chime at the door, and stopped. Dedra.

He placed his datapad down and strode to the door, opening it at once.

Syril hardly had time to recognize the figure in front of him as Dedra as she swept past him in one swift movement. He closed the door behind him and tailed after her. 

She was a few feet away, removing her belt and opening his closet door, searching for a hanger. "How was your meeting?"Syril asked, coming to a stop behind her. Finding a hanger, she threw the belt on it, then moved to remove her coat.

Met with silence, he attempted a different angle. "I wasn't sure what you wanted so I got you noodles again. Unfortunately it hasn't arrived yet. Can I get you something to drink?" He watched as Dedra added her coat to the hanger and jammed it onto the rack.

As she peeled her outer tunic off, still without comment, Syril decided she was better left alone. "Let me know if you need anything," he muttered, before retreating back to his sitting room.

He picked up his datapad and stared at his report, trying not to think about what happened to Dedra. Was she fired? No, that couldn't be, she still had her uniform on when she came in. Her rank remained the same, so she couldn't have been demoted either. Perhaps Partagaz had been in a mood that day and decided to reprimand her for something minor. His mind wandered from what had happened to how he could get Dedra to tell him about it. She was in no mood to talk. He wondered why she even bothered to show up tonight.

Soon enough, Syril heard his closet door close and the sounds of boots thumping across the floor. He saw Dedra round the corner, a scowl still on her face, her hands behind her back. She walked right past him to the window and stared out at the lights. Syril stared at her back for several moments, at a loss for what to say. Telling her to leave might be too direct, but offering her his room for the night might be too suggestive. Neither were preferable.

Finally, he decided to leave her be, turning back to his datapad and continuing on with his report. As he found his rhythm once more, he heard Dedra walking back from the window. Giving her space, he decided not to look up and instead he felt her sit next to him on the couch. After a slight pause, he felt her lean her head on his shoulder. Syril froze, his focus immediately drawn to the warm pressure of Dedra's weight on him. Tonight couldn't get any stranger, he thought as he stared down at his datapad, not daring to move his head.

Dedra, noticing that he had stopped, finally spoke. "I apologize for coming late, but it was unavoidable. Partagaz informed us the Empire is developing something. Something that will give us leverage over the rebels, not in the short-term, but for the foreseeable future. This could be our chance to maintain order across the galaxy once and for all."

As Syril absorbed the magnitude of her words, he placed his datapad on a side table. He took a hand in hers, emboldened by her actions and her words. At the moment, he didn't care that Dedra was keeping a secret from him. He cared about how this secret affected her.

"You don't sound particularly thrilled about this revelation," Syril noted.

"Thrilled definitely isn't the right word," Dedra replied. "Apprehensive, I suppose. The Empire has mishandled several opportunities since I started work with the ISB. I want to know more about what they're planning to do with what they've developed. We cannot plan a show of force unless every one of us is prepared for the consequences."

Thinking of the amount of stress she was under caused Syril to regret his earlier anger towards her. He tightened his grip on her hand and moved away from her, so he could see her face. In the dim light, he could see her bun had loosened and lines under her eyes had started to form. She tried her best to maintain appearances but her efforts had dwindled in the late hours of the night.

Taking in her gaunt appearance, Syril tentatively asked, "Why did you decide to come here instead of going straight home? You look exhausted. I would've understood. Duty always comes first."

Dedra took a moment to respond, her eyes flickering down to look at their interlinked hands. Slowly, she began, "Ever since Ferrix, a part of me has questioned my competency as an officer. I've been pushing myself to make up for my shortcomings ever since. I've stayed up all night reviewing reports, I've taken remedial physical defense classes. I've even had Heert and Partagaz give me separate performance reviews so I could improve."

She met Syril's gaze again as she said, "And yet what makes me feel the most competent is when I come to see you."

Syril gulped, his heart rate increasing, as he considered that last statement. As far as he could tell, Dedra could barely tolerate him some nights. To hear that he had been an anchor for her all these months...

"How is that possible," Syril asked, bewildered. "What could I do for you that would be an improvement over what the ISB could do?"

"When I'm at work," she replied, "there are several other officers with the same rank as me, the same assignments as me. I feel like I'm part of a cog in this wheel that will keep turning regardless if I'm there to help it along. But when I'm with you, I know my input matters. The way you look at me, the way you respond to me, it makes me feel powerful. I don't need to prove myself because you already know what I'm capable of."

Syril started to smile, a glimmer in his eye, "I've been trying to get you to see that, Dedra. Almost as long as I've known you. It's like I told that day in front of headquarters. To me, you represent the truth and beauty of the Empire. You don't need me to succeed, but I'm glad I could be a source of strength. It's the least I could do after all you've done for me."

"That's exactly what I mean Syril. Hearing you say those things about me, even if I don't say it, it does make me feel wanted. And I realized that I don't necessarily mind feeling wanted by you. In fact, I find I enjoy it."

Her eyes darted down to his lips as she considered a point of no return. Syril was one step ahead of her, cocking his head to the side, shakily placing a hand on her cheek. 

Then, the chime from the door sounded, freezing both of them to the spot. 

As Syril sat there, dumbfounded, Dedra reached over to him, taking his hand in hers. Kissing him on the cheek, she asked, "Aren't you going to get that Syril?"

He blinked a few times and, hearing the chime again, stood up. "Yes, sorry, I'll be right back," he muttered, walking to the door with a hand to his cheek.

Dedra leaned back into the couch and prepared to send a comms out to Heert. It contained a simple message, "Karn may be a more valuable asset than anticipated. We need to explore his potential further."