#lots of potentially triggering stuff in here

[dailypj]

(Assuming that you’ve already put some thought into characterizing PJ, tho feel free to ignore this if not! I’m just trying to scope out how to potentially write PaperJam’s character into a fic, since him being sort of a skeptic could mean that he wins the idgaf war too well and has no impact on the central plot yknow)

Do you have ideas for any fun internal conflicts or character arcs for PJ? If there’s a multiverse-threatening conflict unfolding, what would PJ be doing about it, if anything? What mcguffins or circumstances could be triggered that would quickly pique PJ’s interest enough to get involved?

As always my first piece of advice for writing anything pj is to go through the resources provided by his creator, @7goodangel (@-ing in case you wanna put in ur 2 cents, he is ur guy)

Here are the links for:

Pj’s bio

Pj info tag

Pj faq page (bit of a shortcut for the info tag since it holds answers to a lot of previously asked questions, tho not all of them)

now for an actual answer, there's a long ramble under the cut, enjoy

first thing that ik for sure is canon, pj would step in if it's necessary to protect his family (I believe it was a comment somewhere by 7 that stated that pj would go as far as suffocating someone for threatening his kid's life)

if the multiverse being in danger has the capacity to hurt his loved ones I'm sure he'd do something about it, but I think the lengths he's willing to go will vary depending on what/who is causing it and which other characters are joining the fight

Ink for example is definitely an interesting ally considering their past. a conflict between them is pretty much inevitable, especially if you take from canon and had them separated years prior

Now if pj’s loved ones aren't present here, that’s where my guesses on how she’d act get fuzzy. In the past, pj took it upon herself to judge whether certain aus should stay alive or be erased. She believed that what error did was wrong not because it was a massacre of innocents, but because he did it too indiscriminately

(I’d say it was pretty easy to gain a dehumanizing view of others when the 2 biggest influences she had referred to the masses as just fictional characters or anomalies…)

Now, she does indeed spare aus she deems acceptable, but I’m not sure how much she’s willing to risk for them. Cuz like, part of her self-given job is motivated by the want to prove she isn’t a mistake to the man who wants every universe to die

Basically she’s got some pretty dark grey morals and it’s fun to deconstruct them (or make them worse if you wanna go the antagonist pj route, equally fun imo)

now a more headcanon-y idea (aka the trait I tend to exaggerate in nearly every pj varient I've made thus far for angst purposes) is leaning into the whole "I have to be useful to be worthy of anyone's care" thing, and just strongly wanting to disprove bad assumptions/expectations about herself (especially the mistake thing) which couldd lead to her going down a phase of believing she should follow in ink's protector footsteps to try and become more of a priority in his eyes (with the added bonus of keeping fears other characters may have about her "becoming like error" at bay)

does it work? idk but maybe if she just obsesses over it even more the identity crisis will be worth it Slash J

so ya that's my 2 cents on a potential conflict based on canon stuff, absolutely feel free to go ham on whatever direction you feel like taking pj I'm just a big advocate for "learn the rules before you break them" 👍✨

[gender-euphowrya]

brother a tale of two sons was such a nothingburger game i can't believe it got a remake

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey there! I saw in one of another post of yours that you dealt with hoarding, any tips for de-hoarding the house?

Oh boy, do I have a lot. Here's what has helped me, a hoarder who lived several years at Level 4 (squalor, utilities shut off frequently):

Always be kind to yourself. Hoarding is a disorder and for me it was triggered by accumulated trauma. It will take a while to dig out, and you will likely have to wrestle with hoarding urges all your life.

Mindset tips:

Space is more valuable than stuff. Clear pathways, room to sit & sleep, prepare food, work on crafts -- it is *valuable*

Your home is not an optimization problem for storage. Again, space and clean surfaces are necessary! Not having paralysis of choice is valuable!

Cultivate awareness of when you aquire things and devise ways to break out of a buying pattern - put the phone away, go for a walk, etc.

Make some short-term rules: nothing comes in before two things go out. Only buy things you know you will use in the next month. Etc.

Kill sunk-cost-fallacy. The real value is peace of mind, not the potential of an object.

Decluttering tips

Clean out trash, first. Just get the obvious garbage out so you have space to work in.

Get some bankers boxes or bins. Create a group for sale/donate. Put some "keep" boxes in each room.

Start with 1 room to declutter. Again - trash, first. Then, go through objects in that room, putting in the group sale/donate boxes, or directly into the "keep" box for the room that object should live in. Don't worry about *where* in the room the "keep" items go in -- they go in the box, for now.

Try to get the decluttered room to a point where you can move furniture for a deep clean. And try to avoid putting anything in this room that doesn't belong there. You are focusing on 1 room at a time to fix.

Assess your decluttered room for how it might encourage hoarding. Again, is there not enough space? Do you need to take out or rearrange furniture to encourage living/working surfaces?

Don't be in a rush to sort through any of your boxes. Focus on reclaiming space.

Go through the boxes after you've had time to decompress. Some time should have passed and you now can look at your items more neutrally.

For your possessions, ask: does this spark joy? Do I have something similar already? Why am I holding onto it? Is the potential worth the time and space to hang onto it? If it is sentimental, is there a better way to use or display it? If it is broken or a crafting item, will I really fix/use it?

Get in the habit of giving objects a permanent home. Label shelves, bins, whatever else you need to.

Maintenance tips:

Avoid buying things when you're overly emotional

Designate landing pads for items. They don't have to be in the traditional places -- if you take your shoes off in the kitchen, then buy a boot tray and put it in there. Always put your wallet in the same space. Etc.

If daily clutter overtakes surfaces in your home, consider catch-all baskets. I have some in high traffic areas, like the dining room, staircase, and living room. Go through the baskets on a regular basis to weed out junk and put items away where they live.

Be honest with how much time you have to enjoy your possessions. Will you read that many books? Wear all those clothes? Make all those crafting kits? Are you spending more time aquiring vs enjoying?

Regularly assess your belongings and see what you can let go. If you are not sure yet, put items in a box and see if you can live without for several months. Date the box, and be brutal about dealing with it in the time frame you decide upon.

Get into a chore routine. Sometimes, chores are easier if the cleaning supplies are right there. I have an upstairs vacuum and a downstairs vacuum for this very reason.

A 10 minute "reset" at the end of the day goes really far, especially if you are a crafter.

Find something more benign to collect, if you are a magpie. I collect public domain stuff in digital format, video game items, etc. I'd rather be a hoarder in Skyrim than IRL.

I also "collect" experiences now -- I am currently seeing how many different trails I can hike. Maybe you would like something like birdwatching, to sate your hoarding urges. Redirection can go a long way.

I can go more into specifics, but these are always on my mind when I think about controlling one's hoarding. I hope it helps!

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 5

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of your outing with Lando, tensions are raised, worlds fall apart, and resistance gives way to what you’ve always truly wanted. 

WORD COUNT: 11.2k

WARNINGS: Lando is SO EVIL!! I’m sorry to all my Lando girlies. Mention of horrible family dynamics. Reader dissociates during sexual contact (could potentially be triggering). Slow burn yearning. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT PLEASE), oral and fingering (fem receiving), p in v. 

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans  @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @ameliaalvarez06 @scriptedinkbyxim

A/N: The long awaited chapter! For some reason this one was SUCH a struggle plus I had midterms and I got sick in the middle of writing it, so I’m just glad it’s done. I hope it’s still good though <3 I’m thinking probably one or two more chapters of this until it’s over, and then probably the Franco x Alpine social media manager au which will only be like 2 parts before I launch into my next series! A lot of exciting stuff planned. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

The rooftop bar in Monaco was gorgeous, though not as beautiful as the view from your balcony back home. 

The air was full of soft chattering conversations, the sound of plates and champagne flutes clinking, and the purr of expensive engines down on the streets. The sounds of Monte-Carlo had become like background static to you at this point. 

Even the air was fragrant with expensive perfume and cologne, mixed with the sweet smells of dinner plates and the soft aroma of the bouquet of flowers that Lando had brought for you.

He had pulled out all the gentlemanly stops: flowers, a romantic dinner, and, as you could tell by the way his eyes snaked up and down your body, a night that would end up far beyond this stuffy Monaco restaurant. 

“You look amazing,” he said, leaning down to whisper in your ear as the waiter led you to your table. “Is all this for me?”

A few weeks ago and the comment would have you blushing, a playful smile on your lips. Now it just made your stomach churn. 

“I clean up nice,” you joked, sliding into your seat and turning your head away from Lando and towards the view.

“No kidding,” he said, leaning his hand across the table to touch yours. You froze, letting him do it. “I don’t know what’s the better view.”

“That was bad, even for you,” you laughed, hoping that the banter could calm your nerves. He began to softly rub his thumb up and down the side of your hand.

“You’re smiling, though.”

When the waiter came by to take your order, you were thankful for the excuse to pull back your hand, though you weren’t as nervous anymore. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. You missed being touched.

It wasn’t like Oscar ever held your hand anymore.

You could feel his presence, even though you knew he was back in your apartment doing…well, God knows what. 

“I was surprised you made it,” Lando said. “I thought for a second there, you were going to stand me up.”

“Really?”

“He’s not happy about you being here, is he?”

You pursed your lips. “You know how he is.”

“I do. And I really am glad you made it.”

All at once, it felt like you saw right through him. You heard what was unsaid. Lando wanted you to revel at the thought of disobeying Oscar, to spite him by being here.

The problem was, the only person that you wanted to spite by being here was yourself. 

“Why are you doing this, Lando?”

“Doing what?”

The waiter returned with your wine, and he tapped your glass to say cheers. It felt like a mockery. 

“You don’t like me.”

“Who said that?” He sipped at his drink, his eyes never leaving you. “Oscar? You think he’s the authority on how to treat a woman?”

“Well, I’m not a Portuguese model, for one,” you scoffed, taking a sip of your own drink. “But do you really think that it’s not entirely obvious what you’re doing?” 

He smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.” His smile, once like a bolt of lightning in your stomach, felt like a slap in the face. 

“You’re trying to drive me and Oscar apart.” You could hear Oscar’s own words coming out of your mouth.

“I’m trying to show you that you deserve better than him. And, besides, I don’t think I need to do much on that front. Oscar’s already fucked it up himself, hasn’t he?”

“He told me everything you said to Lily, and about me.”

“And yet, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You used to think that you and Lando were on the same playing field, like two masters at a game of chess. Now you knew you were always just a pawn. 

“Why?” you echoed. “I know you don’t like me, you’re not really interested in me at all. So why are you doing this?”

Lando turned his head to gaze at the view, and you could see the cogs in his head churning, trying to figure out his next move. Maybe you had surprised him, after all. 

“Truthfully? I want Oscar to lose.”

“So is this, what, your attempt at psychological warfare?” you laughed. 

“You make it sound so harsh,” he said, his smile returning. “I’m just pointing out the truth.”

“The truth?”

“He used you, YN. Lily left him because he couldn’t be loyal. He fucked you for a couple weeks to get over it. Then he wants to talk about how much he loves you? He just doesn’t want to go to bed alone.”

“You’re one to talk. You have a new girl on your arm every night.”

“I don’t claim to be a gentleman.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “But you like that, don’t you?”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you were thankful for the space that it gave you. But even as you savored the admittedly great food, you couldn’t help but think that Lando might be right. 

It made your stomach churn, to think of a version of Oscar that didn’t love you. You wanted nothing more than to believe that confession he had made, in the heat of your argument, that he had truly been in love with you for years but had made mistake after mistake after—

“You’ve gone quiet,” Lando said.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

He knew the answer. You looked up to meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on you. He was just…sitting there, as if he hadn’t just opened your mind and destroyed everything you thought to be true in only a few sentences.

And all at once, you hated him. 

“What do you think he’s doing, back at your apartment?”

“Probably sleeping,” you answered, your voice gone quiet.

“If he really cared about you, would he be asleep right now?”

“He warned me—”

“I’m sure he did.”

“I’m grown. I made my own decision to come here. He can’t tell me what to do.”

Lando just hummed. “You must not trust him, then.”

“Of course I trust him,” you replied. That was a lie. You still struggled to trust him most days.

“Then why are you here, YN? You interrogated me, let me interrogate you.”

“I don’t know.” You fiddled with your fork, your appetite long gone. 

“Yes, you do.” Lando leaned in again and reached for your hand. “And so do I.”

“Then tell me.”

“You don’t trust Oscar. You were in love with him for years, and you were always there for him when no one else was. But he didn’t want you, he wanted Lily. He couldn’t get rid of you though, because he needed you there for when things inevitably went bad. And that’s exactly what happened, didn’t it? You were never his first choice. He used you.”

“That’s…that’s not what happened at all.” Tears were threatening to form in your eyes.

Lando just continued. “And you? Sweet girl, all you ever wanted was to be loved. You’re so used to being second choice. Even your parents didn’t want you.”

“No, that’s not—”

“That’s why Oscar’s mum took you in, right? She took pity on you. But Oscar could never be with the girl that his family pitied.”

You stared at him, incredulous. You were torn between slapping him or crying, or both. 

“How do you know any of this?” you said. 

“He told me.”

He went back to eating. You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Lando insisted on ordering dessert. When it arrived—whatever it was, your head was spinning a bit too much to be sure—he fed you bites of it, gently guiding the spoon to your mouth. You ate in silence.

“Contrary to what he might tell you, YN, I’m not a bad guy. I’m not a liar.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t lie. I don’t need to. I just tell people the messy truth that they don’t like to hear.”

“You don’t love me, though. You don’t even know me. You try to act like you’re so much better than Oscar, but you don’t love me either.”

The last word hung on your lips. Oscar loved you. He had to. But did he? Or was Lando right?

“You’re right, I haven’t known you as long as he has. But I see you.” He brought the spoon to your mouth for the final bite. 

I see you. No. It couldn’t be true.

“And,” he chuckled, “I guarantee I can fuck you better than he can.”

Lando gestured to the waiter to come back, and he paid the bill before walking you down to his car. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” 

You didn’t know why you got in that car. You didn’t know why you didn’t push his hand away when he rested it on your thigh as he drove through the narrow streets of Monte-Carlo. You didn’t know why you let him kiss you when he pushed you against the wall in the elevator, meeting your lips with a frenzied need. 

He led you into his apartment, where he wordlessly pushed you down on his bed. Your body was beneath him, but your mind was somewhere else. The balcony, back at your apartment, overlooking the water. You were sitting there with a cup of tea, and inside, Oscar was asleep in the early morning hours as you watched the sun rise.

You closed your eyes, hearing the rustle of fabric as Lando unbuttoned his shirt. You weren’t on the balcony anymore. You were in your childhood neighbourhood, across from Oscar’s house, driving your little motorized car.

Lando’s lips returned to your neck, his hands wandering all over you, reaching down the front of your dress. 

You were in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, looking into his eyes as he touched you for the first time. You were scared. So was he. But you trusted each other. 

Before Lando’s hand could go any further, you opened your eyes.

“Stop,” you said, your voice wavering.

Lando pulled back, “What?”

You looked around. At some point, your dress had come off. You were so far away from your mind that you didn’t remember. 

“I don’t want to do this,” you said. 

Lando made a face. “Really?” he asked, his voice annoyed.

“I want to go home.” You were on the edge of tears again.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up and handing you your dress.

You dressed quickly and gathered your things that had been thrown around the room. There was no apology, no attempt to talk about it, no fanfare. Just a simple okay and a clear expression of indifference. 

You booked it out of the apartment complex, desperate to get home. 

When you did, the sun was already down, and you thanked God that Monaco was so small. You opened the door quietly, hearing Oscar’s soft snores in your room.

Oscar. 

You sank in the bed next to his form, so warm and familiar, and he felt like home. Just the thought of it made you want to cry, but no tears found you. You felt numb.

You curled up next to him and scooted back to be as close to him as you could without waking him—at least, that’s what you wanted, to be held in silence, to forget any of this had ever happened. 

“YN?” he asked, his voice groggy. “What time is it?”

“Too fucking late,” you whispered. “Go back to bed.”

It was no use. He grabbed his phone on the nightstand, checked the time, and sighed. He laid back down next to you, but the soft scene had been shattered.

“You smell like him,” he said, the reverberations of his speech echoing against your skin.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, trying to hold back tears.

“Shit, are you crying? Did he…?” Oscar propped himself up on his elbow, but you buried your head in your arms. 

“I made him stop,” you muttered. 

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“No,” you said. “Just… hold me. Please.”

Oscar couldn’t argue with the quiet desperation in your voice, lowering himself finally to wrap his arm around you. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the back of your neck.

“How much longer are we going to do this?” he murmured against your skin. 

“I can go sleep on the couch, if you want,” you answered.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You couldn’t face him, though you spoke anyway. “Is this beyond saving?” you asked.

“Us? No.”

“He said things…We were just going to get dinner. Even after I left, I didn’t really want to go. I don’t know why I kept ignoring my intuition, because I knew something was wrong.” The pillow beneath you was stained with tears.

You continued, “We mostly talked about you. I mean, we almost always talk about you. I can’t even remember what he said exactly, but he… he started talking about my parents.”

“Your parents?” Oscar echoed.

“Yeah. Saying that even they didn’t want me, that no one wanted me. It sounds so stupid when I say it aloud, but…it hurt. He said everyone just took pity on me and I’m always the second choice. Even to you. Or, I guess, especially to you.”

Oscar was silent at first, until he asked, “Do you really believe that?” 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“What more could I do, for you to believe that I love you?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” You reached down to where his arm rested around your middle and intertwined your fingers with his. “I don’t know.”

With nothing else to be said, you both drifted back to sleep. 

To your surprise, in the morning, Oscar didn’t bring up your conversation from the previous night. The next day was uneventful too. 

And as days turned to weeks, the best you could guess was that Oscar had…given up. 

It wasn’t like he had abandoned you. When he was in Monaco, neither of you sacrificed to take the couch anymore, spending each night entangled with the other. And on the road, everywhere from Spain to Silverstone, you somehow always made your way to his hotel room to spend the night. 

He hadn’t touched you, though. At least, not in the way you so desperately wanted—no, needed—nothing more than a careful arm around the middle, pulling you close to him at night, or the occasional peck on the back of the neck after a particularly bad race weekend. 

And Lando? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no flirty comments on the sly. It was as if you had never existed to him. You avoided him like the plague at races. And for the most part, he let you.

Well, for the most part.

Weeks later, you assumed your usual spot next to Oscar as he walked through the paddock, snapping photos of him through all the commotion. In these quiet moments, it was just you, your camera, and him; the rest of the world blurred into the background and all that mattered was capturing the perfect snapshot of this man you loved.

But no one could ignore the words of the commentators that flooded the ears of anyone who walked past the paddock.

“Well, we are gearing up for a Hungarian Grand Prix to remember! Only a year ago, who can forget how Oscar Piastri secured his first Grand Prix win here as a result of some controversial team orders? Now, it seems like controversy is still on the table as he battles with his teammate for the World Driver’s Championship…”

Oscar scowled.

“Ignore them,” you said, snapping a photo of his frown. “You’re gonna win, and you’re gonna do it right.”

“Hey, nothing’s wrong with papaya rules,” said a voice behind you. You spun to see Lando’s face, and your stomach sank.

“Just came by to wish my teammate good luck,” he said, putting on a fake smile for the commentators who watched above.

Oscar gave Lando an empty handshake, doing his best to keep his cool in front of all the journalists.

“Anyone with eyes can see that this championship battle has ruffled some feathers. These once friendly teammates are now ice cold, though they clearly have an admirable respect for each other despite it all…” The commentators droned on. 

“Oh, YN, by the way, you left your jacket at my house.” Lando said, turning his gaze to you.

“Keep it,” Oscar answered, protectively putting his hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, feeling safe with him.

“I just figured YN can come by and grab it—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. 

Lando leaned in, and you felt Oscar’s grip on you tighten. “You really gonna let him tell you what to do?” he whispered.

“Let’s go, YN,” Oscar instructed, and you turned and left without a word.

The rest of the weekend was full of these same games. Lando approaching you innocuously, always in the most public of spaces, as if he didn’t know the nervousness that he inspired within you. He played the innocent role as if he believed it himself.

He even winked at you before he got into his car for qualifying. You wanted to puke.

Oscar didn’t get pole. Lando did. None of the other stats mattered. 

The two McLaren drivers were neck and neck, even getting ahead of Max Verstappen, who’s Redbull car had proved to be useless this season. Every point, every millisecond, mattered. And Lando was winning. 

You did your job as usual, taking photos as Oscar hopped out of the car and sulked his way into the garage. Your lunch threatened to reappear when you felt a familiar tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey, YN—”

You walked away, but he followed.

“YN!” Lando called, jogging after you. “Wait!”

“Go away, Lando.”

“Just give a second, will you?” 

You walked faster, insistent on making it to the now emptying McLaren garage. 

“YN, when am I going to see you again?”

“Never,” you answered, not even turning to look at him. You finally made it back to the garage, but you kept walking back into the hallways of drivers rooms. You were determined to make it back to Oscar, but your oasis was swiftly destroyed.

Lando grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back into a corner. Your face went pale, and all breath left your body.

“You sure about that?” he asked, a sickening smirk across his face.

“Leave me alone,” you whimpered.

He leaned in, whispering in your ear, and the touch made you squirm. “You left your jacket at my place in Monaco. Which means you need to come back and get it, yeah? Maybe spend the night…”

He was yanked away by your saving grace: Oscar.

“Get the fuck away from her! What is wrong with you?” he yelled, grabbing Lando by the collar of his race suit and pulling him off you. 

You took advantage of the space and ran off to Oscar’s driver room, terrified. You felt like you wanted to jump out of your skin. 

“If you don’t leave her alone—”

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Lando taunted. He huffed. 

“Just leave her alone,” Oscar repeated, breathless. What could he do about it, realistically? He let Lando go, dropping him into the wall.

“What do you even want?” Oscar asked, his voice shaking in anger. “You never wanted her in the first place. You just wanted to win, and you are. So why not leave her alone and be done with it?”

Lando smirked. “I am winning, huh?”

“Is that all you really care about?” Oscar asked. He lowered his voice, knowing you were hiding in his driver’s room, pressing your ear to the door to listen in. “If I…if I stop trying, will you leave her alone?”

“Stop trying?”

“If I give up the championship, will you promise to never go near YN again?”

Lando chuckled incredulously. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone that strongly.”

“This isn’t a shitty romcom, Oscar. If you don’t perform, you’ll get cut in an instant.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Lando took a step towards Oscar. “Say I agree. What makes you think I’ll keep my word?”

“I’d just have to trust you,” Oscar said, his voice still low but firm and full of warning. 

“If you’re willing to give it up that easily, why are you here? What’s to stop me from ruining your entire career?” the Brit taunted. 

“Like I said,” Oscar explained, looking down on his teammate, “I love her. She’s worth it.”

“Not that much.”

“Yes, that much.”

Lando laughed. “You’ve gone soft. You’re no fun.”

“Do we have a deal?” Oscar asked.

Lando looked aside, weighing his options in his head. “Let me think on it.”

Both men knew the answer then and there. This wasn’t over. But if it kept Lando away from you for a while, Oscar would take your place in the back and forth. He could handle it. 

The short-lived peace made its way back to Oscar’s hotel room that night, where he wrapped an arm around you, as natural as turning the lights off and pulling the covers up to your chin. He held you close, relishing the feeling of your chest rising and falling under his arm that you interlocked with your own.

He closed his eyes, steadying his own breathing as he held you like his life depended on it.

“What did you say to Lando in the hallway?” you asked, your voice a scarce whisper in the dark room.

“Nothing,” Oscar answered. 

“I could hear you all talking. I just couldn’t make out the words.”

“Don’t worry about it. He won’t be bothering you anymore,” Oscar said, though he knew it was a lie. He ran his thumb up and down the smooth surface of your knuckles, soothing himself as much as you.

“You know, I got a job offer last week,” you said. Oscar stopped. His breath hitched. You continued, “Doing social media for some French fitness influencer. Seems like a pretty decent gig.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I’m not sure. I’m waiting to hear back from some other positions.”

“And when you do?”

The question hung thick in the air. All talk of you leaving had fizzled out long ago, though you hadn’t stopped looking, still scared of that thought that lingered in the back of your mind, convincing you that you couldn’t trust the life that Oscar had carved out for you.

“I don’t know. It might do me some good to get away from all this.”

“You’d get lonely.”

You gave a small huff of a laugh. “I’d manage.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling you closer. “I’d get lonely.”

“I’m sure you’d manage, too.”

“How’s the pay?”

“Not as good as Piastri incorporated,” you joked, a small across your face.

“That’s right,” he joked back. “Gotta pay my best worker well.”

“It’s not exactly the most professional environment, I must admit.”

‘Would you prefer a cubicle at the back of the paddock?”

You had missed this, the gentle banter that constituted your friendship with Oscar. It would be normal, were you not wrapped up in his arms right now.

You laughed at his joke, but Oscar continued, “Unfortunately, I can’t accept your resignation.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“You won’t get a good review out of me. I’ll tell everyone about your unprofessional behavior.” Oscar sat up, winking at you. “So close with the boss, hm?”

“You wish,” you taunted, grabbing a pillow and putting it between you and him.

“No!” he cried out, giggling as he grabbed the pillow and threw it across the room. You wrestled with the other bedding, grasping for layers and laughing in the mess you were swiftly creating.

But the moment ended too soon, as Oscar leaned over you and pinned you down, his chest heaving from the play fighting, his eyes locked on yours. Your gaze had darkened now, seeing his bare chest rising and falling above you, where all he had to do was reach down and bring his lips to yours for everything to change in an instant.

He pulled away, and you wanted to whimper. You imagined reaching up, slipping your fingers through the soft stands of his hair and pulling him back down to you, letting yourself get consumed by him once more.

And judging by the growing hardness pressing against your leg, he was imagining it too.

“I should go, erm, take a shower,” he said, breaking the moment before you could dwell on it any further. 

It didn’t matter. As you heard the water turn on and the rustling of his clothes, you wondered where Oscar’s hands must be wandering.

You could get up and walk into the bathroom, dropping your own clothes on the floor next to his. He could pin you against the wall of the shower and kiss up and down your neck, nipping into the sensitive skin, leaving dark marks to show the world that you’d always been his.

You took a deep breath. The shame came in waves. 

When Oscar got out of the shower, you were gone, having decided to spend the night in your own room for the first time in God knows how long. The bed was still warm, the covers still imprinted by your form.

He turned over and passed the night with a restless kind of sleep.

And yet, you turned up in the paddock the next morning as if nothing had happened. 

Oscar saw you from across the garage, and he let out a nervous breath seeing you chatting with one of the other photographers. You were here, safe. He didn’t like how anxious he was, not having you by his side at night and into the morning.

“Saw your girl show up alone this morning. You really trust me, huh?” Lando said, standing beside Oscar as they both weighed in for the Grand Prix.

“She’s grown. And so are you.”

“You really are a new man, aren’t you, Oscar? Love has changed you,” Lando said, patting Oscar on the back.

“Don’t push it.”

“But it’s so fun!” he said, smiling to himself. “I don’t think I’m gonna stop. Cause what are you gonna do about it?”

“Run you off the track,” Oscar said, his natural flatness giving the warning a cold chill.

“I’m sure you will,” Lando laughed.

Oscar hadn’t even planned to do it. But as he watched you out of the corner of his eye, he knew something had to be done. Lando was only keeping his distance, for now. 

When it came down to it, what could he do to protect you? Would he really have to give it all up?

He would. In an instant, only for you.

The thought raced in his mind as fast as the car he now sat himself into, preparing for the Grand Prix that would start any minute now. His eyes glanced at you, on the edge of the track, camera pointed towards him as usual. Yes, he’d do it for you. Only you. 

At the front of the pact, Lando turned to face you, knowing Oscar was in eyeshot. And he winked at you. Fucking winked, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, like everyone couldn’t see how the blood drained from your face and you awkwardly shuffled back to the McLaren garage just to be out of eyeshot of that man who had the nerve to treat you like a pawn in a game he didn’t even care to win. 

Oscar knew what he had to do. And when you heard the famous words in your ears just the same as all the countless race starts you’d seen—lights out and away we go!—he just prayed that you’d understand why he had to do it.

Oscar’s reflexes had never worked so fast as he booked it down the middle, the mere millisecond the lights went out. It was like his mind and body had split; he was moving by pure instinct, racing ahead towards his teammate who led the pack down the first straight. 

But even as he made his way to the front, he didn’t try to overtake. No, he wasn’t here to win. If Oscar was going down, Lando would go down with him. He turned and pushed his teammate off the track and into the barrier into the first turn.

It all happened so quickly that you couldn’t process it; the sound of rough metallic clashing, tires screeching, the crowd hushed as smoke and debris sprang into the air.

On one side, Oscar’s voice crackled through the radio. “I’m okay,” he assured. “Shit, I think I lost control of the steering…”

On the other, those who could hear Lando were not as soothed. “That fucker just ran me off the track! Did you see that? This is ridiculous!”

The garage was in a frenzy, mechanics scrambling to bring in both of the cars for repair after a rare double DNF. You knew the boys would be swept up in media interviews, calls to the stewards, and late meetings in the garage. It didn’t stop you from rushing forward with the crowd of everyone else, camera at the ready, snapping photos of Oscar as he ruffled his hair and began the walk of shame back to the garage. 

You still followed him back to his driver’s room, chasing the precious minutes before he’d be out of your grasp for the rest of the evening.

“Oscar!”

“I’m okay, YN,” he assured you, turning around to embrace you. His hands on your hips felt familiar, like home, like hope. He pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling as the adrenaline left him. 

“Are you really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I lost control—”

“I’m not the FIA, Oscar.”

He chuckled. You continued, “I know better. You didn’t lose control of the steering. Why in God’s name would you run him off track?”

“I did what I had to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it, yeah?”

“Oscar—”

“Shh,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder now. “Stay in my room tonight? I don’t like you sleeping alone.”

You swallowed, scared of the acknowledgement of your closeness. “Oscar…”

“I have to get to the stewards. I’ll see you back at the hotel, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What the actual fuck was that?” The Brit’s voice reverberated through the tin walls of the meeting room, his anger palpable. 

“I lost—”

“Bullshit!”

“Lando, lower your voice,” Zak Brown commanded, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. “Oscar, do you wanna walk us through what happened?”

Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not quite sure. I was trying to overtake, I lost control of the steering, then I spun out.”

“Well it looks like you ran into me,” Lando snided. “Or are you really that bad at controlling your own car?”

“Oscar wouldn’t run you off the track,” Zak interjected. “That’s not how we do things here.”

“Oh yeah, papaya rules?” Lando jeered, laughing to himself. “Yeah, right. Look at the footage. He rammed into me. The stewards will handle it.”

“Tensions are high right now, but let's not get carried away with allegations. Right now we need to focus on the team. You know Ferrari is catching up to us, and we still can’t eliminate Max.”

“Hard to do that when my own teammate is trying to run me into a fucking wall,” Lando muttered. 

“That’s enough,” Zak said, his voice unusually stern. “The mechanics are looking at the car, and the stewards are looking at the footage. If there’s a mechanical issue, they’ll find it. And if we have to take any penalties, we’ll deal with it. But all this infighting needs to stop. We all have the same goals here.”

“Do we?” Oscar asked, breaking his silence.

“Of course we do,” Zac said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Oscar shrugged. “We both want to win. And some people are willing to do anything.” He looked up and locked eyes with Lando across the table. 

“We want to win,” Zac said, turning his head to both drivers. “We, as in, McLaren. But we don’t put one driver down to help the other win. You all know this. You both drive fair.”

“Of course,” Oscar said. Lando was seething, unable to keep up the charade for much longer. 

“I’ve got to get to the stewards. Stay here, both of you, and behave,” he warned, as if scolding children. But the second he closed the door behind him, Lando broke. 

“You fucked up, Piastri. You think he didn’t see right through that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about winning anymore. I just want you to lose.”

Lando laughed. “I don’t buy that for one second.”

“You really think this is still about racing? You’re trying to destroy my entire life! You lied to Lily, you nearly killed me in Imola, and now you’re harassing YN. If you want to go low, I’ll go lower,” Oscar hissed. 

“You really don’t want to do that,” Lando said. “You think you’re beating me at my own game, but you haven’t seen anything.”

“Do your worst,” Oscar said, shrugging. “At this point, I don’t care. Because I know that more than anything else, you want to win. And if I go down, I’m bringing you down with me.”

By the time Oscar made it back to the hotel, you were nearly asleep. The day wore heavily on your shoulders, slumping you down into the bed with ease, though you wanted to be awake to talk to him when he got back.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, your breaths steadying as you heard his footsteps cross the floor softly in an effort not to wake you. 

“Osc…” you whispered, your voice hoarse from exhaustion. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” he responded. “I’ll be to bed in a minute, go back to sleep.”

“I wanted to see you,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. The gesture was gentle and natural, as if the feeling of his lips on your skin wasn’t heavy with the weight of months of uncried tears and fears that still paralyzed you both. “Don’t worry about me. Get some rest.”

But his kiss, tender as it was, had sent a wave of warm electricity through you. Sleep was far from you now. Oscar crossed the room towards the bathroom, and again your thoughts drifted to darker places, remembering the solidity of his body against yours months ago. Your need for him was becoming indescribable. 

Why didn’t you just give in? He was right; you wanted each other, that was undeniable. What else could be done about it, besides letting the need take over, drowning in him until all you could breathe in was the warmth of his skin, the smell of his cologne, the gentle breaths he exhaled in the quiet dark of your love?

Still, you felt paralyzed. And when he came back into the room, clad in only his underwear, and snaked under the covers next to you, you couldn’t do it. In your mind, you crawled on top of him, steadying your hands on the slopes of his broad shoulders, and kissed him until you couldn’t breathe; in reality, you just turned to look at him, your eyes bold with a restrained wanting. 

“I told you to go back to sleep, YN,” he whispered, moving your hair out of your face to see you clearly. 

“Did you really run into him? Like, on purpose?”

“Are you wearing a wire?” Oscar joked, a small bunny-toothed grin stretching across his face.

“I’m hardly wearing anything,” you responded, ignoring the blush that rushed to your companion’s cheeks at the thought. “And neither are you. But seriously, why did you do that?”

You had left Oscar in a no-win situation: to acknowledge the enticing lack of clothing between you two, or the still muddled details of his crash. He chose the latter.

“I…did what I had to do. And he knows I’ll do it again.”

“You’re being cryptic,” you said. 

Oscar took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to tell you. “I didn’t want it to get this far,” he began. “But after all the shit he put you through, I had to do something. When he followed you in the garage, I tried to talk to him. I thought if this is all just about winning, then if I let him win he’d leave us alone.”

“You…”

“I offered to give up, let him win. He wouldn’t agree to it.”

“Oscar!”

“What?” he asked.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because you being safe is more important than any championship.”

“Don’t say that,” you scolded. “And don’t you dare give anything up for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is your dream. This is everything you’ve worked for.”

“What about your dreams, YN? What about everything you wanted that you gave up for me?”

“You were the only thing I ever wanted,” you whispered, as tears threatened to form in your eyes. “To be your friend, to be by your side when you win.”

“Well, you’re worth giving it up for.”

“No, don’t—”

“YN—”

You both sat up, and the space between you was infinitely small. Oscar looked to your lips, then his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. And you wanted it more than anything. 

“If you had done that,” you said, breaking the tension, “if you had really given up, I would have left you.”

He reached his hand out to your waist, carefully reaching under the loose tank top you wore, meeting your skin. His touch was warm and sent shivers under your spine. Again, his eyes went to rest on your lips, tracing every curve. “No you wouldn’t,” he said. 

“Yes, I would,” you replied, your voice more forceful.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he whispered. His free hand had come to rest on your jawline, his thumb tracing up and down the side of your face. “You love me too much.”

“You’d be miserable without racing.” Your voice was beginning to shake.

“Maybe. But I’d get over it.”

You inhaled sharply, suddenly overcome with anxiety and a thick sense of dread. This was all you had wanted; you and Oscar, nothing but atoms of air separating your bodies. But now that you were here, you felt a lump in your throat suffocating you.

Oscar could sense it too. He pulled back slightly. “He wouldn’t let me,” he said, his voice soft. “And then he winked at you. I had to show him that I wouldn’t let him get away with any of this.”

“That’s immature,” you said. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I was more hurt when he ran into me first, if you’ve forgotten.” Though he had moved away, his eyes still couldn’t help but glancing at your lips. “I’m just showing him that he can’t get away with all of this.”

“And what happens when one of you gets seriously hurt? I can’t lose you, Oscar.”

“You won’t.” His hand lowered to your hip and stayed there, tracing small circles into your skin. “I don’t care about winning anymore, but he does. He can’t run me off track without sacrificing points.”

“I don’t like this,” you said. Your voice was still shaking, though with a different kind of fear now. 

“I know,” he whispered. 

The closeness was too much. You felt like you were going to puke. “I guess I should go to my own room, let you get some rest.”

“If you want,” he said, his voice soft with a gentle and innocent wanting. “I won’t stop you. But you can stay.”

“I just—”

“YN,” he cut you off, “why are you so nervous? It’s just me.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want.”

“I know,” you echoed. You felt like a broken record. “Just…get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he said. “Goodnight, YN.”

You didn’t respond as you crossed the room, opened the door, and went to your own hotel room. 

A few days later, you felt your heart drop as you checked your phone for the first time in hours.

You had been on a grueling flight back to Australia with Oscar, where you were meant to spend the summer break with his family. Upon arriving at the empty Piastri family home, you took your phone off airplane mode, and what you saw took all the blood away from your face. 

“House is ours for the night,” Oscar explained as he began unpacking his suitcase. “Mum doesn’t get back from her trip until tomorrow night, but of course she didn’t tell—”

“Oscar.”

“What?” he said, looking at you, you sat on the edge of his bed, phone clutched in hand, shaking.

“Have you checked your socials today?”

“Isn’t that what I pay you for?” he joked, cracking a smile. You didn’t look back at him, and he quickly dropped the banter. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

You silently handed him the phone. On the screen was a gossip page, and a carousel of images of you and Lando.

Talking on track, out in Monaco, in his car. Oscar wanted to puke. But as he scrolled, it got even worse. The face that still haunted his dreams, though he’d never admit it aloud anymore: Lily.

Mess at McLaren! Fans have noticed tensions between McLaren drivers Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris, but according to a close source within McLaren, things are worse than anyone could have imagined. Our source says that Piastri and long time girlfriend, Lily Zneimer, have been broken up for months, which explains her absence at nearly every Grand Prix this season. Piastri quickly moved on with long time friend and social media manager YN LN, but recently, YN has been seen in close quarters with his teammate Lando Norris. Will we be seeing a new wag soon, or more drama between the drivers? 

The comments were even worse.

Wait, why did Oscar and Lily break up? They were so endgame!

↪️Our source told us that Lily was not a fan of how close Oscar and YN were! They have been friends since they were children, but fans have been speculating for a while that there’s something deeper there. 

YN is such a homewrecker oh my God. I always felt off about her. 

↪️Exactly. Like not only did she break up Oscar and Lily, but then she’s going for Lando now! Like girl GO AWAY EWWW

That pic of YN outside Lando’s condo? Look at her dress. Compared to the pic from the restaurant, it’s clear she took that off. There’s no way they didn’t hook up. 

Okay but how have Oscar and Lily been broken up since March but none of us noticed?

↪️Lily has always been super private, which makes sense considering her ex and his “girl best friend” were always flaunting how close they are. You all remember that photo he deleted after the Australian GP? I feel so bad for her. 

↪️Oh if I was Lily I’d be pissed. You steal my man and then you leave him for his teammate? The audacity of YN!

He couldn’t read any more. But when he looked up, he couldn’t stand what he saw, either. You, unable to keep the tears back, your mind racing faster than a Formula 1 car.

“I’m ruined,” you said. “I’ve gotten emails from HR, the PR people at McLaren… I’m gonna lose my job.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Oscar, why would he do this?”

“Because he’s mad at me. And he knows the way to hurt me is through you. This is…his payback, I guess, for the crash.” As Oscar said those words, the truth dawned on him—this was his fault. 

“What do I even do?” you asked, and Oscar grabbed your shaking hands and held them in his own.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out after the break. I’ll make sure you don’t lose your job.”

“The entire internet thinks I’m a homewrecking whore.”

“No,” he said. “Just a small group of people who have nothing better to do than meddle in the personal lives of F1 drivers.”

“Are they wrong, though?”

“Don’t even entertain that idea. I’ll reach out to legal and see what they can do. This has got to be breaking Monaco privacy laws.”

“Oscar—”

“It’s gonna be okay, YN. I promise you.”

“Oscar,” you said, repeating his name, but this time quieter, more weighted. “Maybe this is a sign.”

“What?”

“I’ve been going back and forth about leaving for too long. Maybe this is it. I mean, how am I going to come back from this?”

“Are you serious? You just want to give up?” Oscar asked. His voice was tinged with anger.

“You, of all people, can’t lecture me about giving up,” you responded.

“Shit, you’re right, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me. I won’t let you do it.”

“If I really wanted to leave, you’d make me stay? How would you manage that?” Your voice dripped in venom, and something more, something that sent a shiver down Oscar’s spine, an invitation to push.

“I’d figure it out,” he said, unsure of how far to go. “Just promise me you won’t give up immediately. At least try. Don’t let him win this easily.”

“I’m not competitive like you all,” you said, turning your head away. Suddenly, Oscar’s gaze felt too heavy for you to bear. 

“You said all you ever wanted was to be here with me. Are you gonna let him take that from you?” he asked.

You didn’t respond. Oscar moved towards you. “We’ll do this together. We’ll get through this. I promise. Will you promise me?”

Still, you were silent. 

“YN? Do you promise?” 

“Can you give me a minute?” you asked, though you didn’t wait for a response when you left the bedroom and made your way out onto the back porch.

In the distance, you heard the familiar and comforting sound of the neighborhood you had grown up in, and you let it lull you to a steady pace of breathing, in and out. 

You knew Oscar was right. You couldn’t give up this easily and let Lando take everything away from you. But you wanted so badly to indulge that instinct to run. 

You remembered what Oscar had said, nights before, when you had scolded him about his own desire to give in. He had said you were worth it, and the thought scared you. 

You had always been the one to do things for him, not the other way around. You had molded your entire future based on his dreams, until eventually they became your own. Now, all you wanted was him, but even when he was close enough to touch, you couldn’t take it. Why? What held you back from everything you had ever wanted, your entire life?

“YN,” Oscar called, closing the sliding door behind him. “I’m sorry. I was a little harsh.”

“It’s alright,” you said, as he sat next to you, his muscled arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. 

He bit his lip, unsure of exactly what to say. 

“You were right, though,” you said. “I shouldn’t give up. Neither of us should.”

“Do you really want to leave?” he asked, though the both of you were too nervous to look at the other. 

“I don’t know,” you answered. 

“I don’t know what I was on about, when I said I wouldn’t let you leave. I mean, I want you here. I won’t lie to you about that. But if you want to go…” his voice trailed off, unable to even comprehend what he’d do. 

“If I left, would you go back to Lily?”

“I— what? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“She has everything to do with this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She left you because of me. And the entire reason I ever entertained Lando was because of her.”

“And now you want to leave because of her. Because you’ll never feel right about it, is that it?”

It shouldn’t shock you that Oscar knew you so well. Still, you kept your mouth shut, biting your lip.

“You were here before all of it,” he said. “Before Lando, before Lily, before racing, even. If being here is what you want, then you deserve it more than any of them.”

He moved to face you, his hand dangerously close to yours.

“So no, I wouldn’t go back to Lily.”

“Because she wouldn’t have you, or because you don’t want to be with her anymore?”

“YN, seriously?”

“What?”

“A few days ago I was about to give up my entire racing career for you. You really think I’d go back to her?”

The absurdity of what you’d implied dawned over you. 

“I…I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right.”

“I’m not upset. I just…” Oscar’s voice faded. You shivered in the cold air as night approached, evidenced by the stunning sunset that painted the Australian sky of his backyard. “Let’s go inside,” Oscar suggested, “You’re shivering.”

You wordlessly followed him back inside, but stopped before you got into his room. 

It had been a long time since you and Oscar had been alone in his room. The last time…well, it must have been the night that you lost your virginity. It almost felt like, to cross that threshold again would be to give up the fight that you had so strongly waged in your head. 

But isn’t that what you wanted?

Oscar, none the wiser, continued unpacking his clothes. 

You walked away, going to the kitchen to prepare food for dinner. 

It was odd, being in Oscar’s childhood home—and really, yours too—alone with him. All that was on your mind was the last time you were alone, in this place, a similar tension thick in the air, that ever-present fear that one of you would have to leave. It seemed that not much had changed. 

Oscar could tell that you were distracted, but he assumed the elephant in the room was your newly destroyed reputation, which he truthfully had no idea how he was going to fix. He’d figure it out. At least, that’s what he told himself. He’d figure anything out of it meant keeping you next to him every night, waking up with your arms around him. 

Though, recently, you had taken to sleeping alone. All this talk of leaving terrified him. He had once been so sure that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be there. The love and friendship you shared was strong enough to withstand anything—years of long distance, a relationship, his rise to stardom within Formula 1—but now, everything was as fragile as glass, able to be destroyed with just the tiniest bit of force.

He was scared. 

That fear returned when night fully came, and it was time to sleep. You were both exhausted from the insanity of the day. You had turned off your phone just to enjoy the silence of the home you grew up in. 

The episode of whatever random show you had been watching was over. The house was quiet, save for the creaking of the home’s bones, and the soft patter of rain outside. 

Despite your reservations, you had found yourself resting your head on Oscar’s shoulder, half asleep. He could feel his eyelids heavying too, but he didn’t want to disrupt the scene, the sweet presence of your closeness that could be gone any day now. 

“I should probably go to bed,” you said, your voice hoarse. Oscar hummed in response, unsure of what to say. He had a feeling that his words would just make the situation worse.

You stared at the ceiling of the Piastri family guest room, a familiar sight. Getting ready for bed had meant turning your phone back on for your alarm in the morning, and you had been inundated with a flood of nasty messages, worried texts, and concerning emails. You ignored them all. 

You felt like the ceiling was going to grow a set of eyes and start staring back at you, at this rate. Your insomnia in the past year was getting to you. 

Your gaze switched to your surroundings; the nondescript guest room, that was basically your childhood home. You had never decorated it, despite Nicole’s insistence that the room was yours to fill. You never felt like you deserved it. Someone else would eventually need to be there, someone more important than the girl from the troubled family across the cul de sac. 

And that was the root of all of this, wasn’t it? You were… you. The neighbour girl. The unofficial extra daughter. The best friend who was more like blood. The one who was always there, but in the background, never in the front; you wanted to be unnoticed, unknown. 

But it couldn’t be that way forever. Either you’d fully fade away, or you’d stay here forever, cemented in this family that had taken you in when no one else would. As much as you’d like to fight it, this place, this room, these people, they were your home. 

You should have been lulled to sleep by the droning of the ceiling fan or the gentle static of the rain outside that was now picking up to a stronger storm. But all you could think about was him. Oscar. Was he sleeping? Or was his mind running circles around itself, just like yours?

You picked up your phone to check the time. Nearly 3 in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d snuck into Oscar’s room in the early hours before the light of dawn. 

Down the hall, his door was ajar, as if he was expecting, or maybe hoping, you’d come by. You slid in silently and closed the door behind you. 

Oscar’s eyes glanced up to you, following your form as you assumed your place in the bed next to him. He could have turned away—you could have too—but instead you all curved to face each other, your eyes perfectly aligned, no words needed to express what you all knew to be true. 

Time had run out. You could no longer run from this, from him. And now you were back where it all began. 

You just held each other’s gaze for a moment, letting the silence speak all the words you knew couldn’t be said. Finally, Oscar broke the tension.

“YN,” he whispered, “I love you so much that it hurts.” You could hear the pain in his voice, the choked syllables that held back a flood’s worth of tears. “And I’m so fucking sorry about all of this. You deserve so much better.”

You didn’t respond, even as tears threatened their way forwards.

He continued, “You deserve someone who will always put you first. You deserve to go discover your dreams and make them happen, and you deserve someone who will be there to support you every second of the way. I’m so sorry I haven’t been that person. But God, I want to be.”

You whispered his name into the quiet between his words, but nothing could stop the flood that fell from his lips.

“If you want to go and find that person, find that dream, then do it. I want you to be happy more than I want you to be mine. But I can’t let you go without telling you how much I wish it could have been me.”

“Oscar,” you said, your voice more forceful this time, but he persisted.

“YN, I love you. I am in love with you. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t treat you better. I’m so sorry that I ruined what could have been so beautiful.”

“Oscar,” you repeated, cutting him off, “Kiss me.”

“What?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look down on you. 

“I said, kiss me.”

“But—”

“Oscar. I am asking you to kiss me.”

“You…you want me to?”

“Do you not want to?”

“No, I mean yes, I just—”

You could let him babble any more, so you took action into your own hands, sitting up to meet him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and gentle kiss that felt like a tsunami coming to rest in the pit of your stomach. 

“Do you remember the last time we were here? Alone in your room?” you whispered against his lips, and he nodded. “I was so scared, then. But I trusted you. We trusted each other.”

“YN,” he exhaled, his voice breathy with need, “I’m afraid you’re going to leave me.”

“Don’t think about that. We’re here, right now. It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” he repeated, his hands beginning to wander. And it was true. Here there was no Lando, no Lily, no Formula 1, nothing but you and the man you loved, your bodies intertwined, your chests heaving with desire.

“Oscar.”

“Yeah?”

“Do it again,” you commanded.

“Huh?”

“Kiss me again,” you said, a smile forming on your lips. 

“I don’t—” You kissed him again, savoring his familiar taste, the way your lips fit so perfectly with his.

He pulled away. “We can’t. You said we can’t.” 

“You really want to stop?” you asked. 

“But you said—”

“Oscar,” you said, his name like a prayer on your lips. “Please. I want this. I need it.”

He was quiet then, for a moment, upon hearing your confession of desire. You were scared for a moment that he might reject you. 

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered in your ear. “Show me how you want it. I’ll be gentle.”

You moved his tentative hands to your waist, and he pulled you closer, holding you against him, where you were near enough to feel his blood pulse through his veins. Your heart was beating fast, the feeling of him both foreign and familiar.

He reached one hand up into your hair, gently pulling your head to the side to press his lips to your neck, and you let out a whimper at the soft touch. You rested your hands against his bare chest, relishing the feeling of his heart beat and his breath that was rapidly increasing. His want was devouring him, but he touched you like you were something fragile and breakable. 

“You don’t have to be this gentle with me,” you said with a breathy voice. “I won’t break.”

“No, you’re too precious,” he said, a temporary reprieve from his lips exploring every inch of your neck. He looked up and delicately ran the back of his hand along the soft skin of your cheek. “You’re so soft and warm. I want to savor you. God, I missed this.”

You grabbed his chin and brought his lips back to yours, unable to resist him any longer. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths, re-mapping every inch that had been forgotten, and you moaned into him, softly grinding into his lap. You needed more of him. 

“You taste like heaven. God, you’ll be the fucking death of me, YN.”

You could already feel a wetness pooling in your panties, and your hitched breath at his praise made you all the more ready. “I need you,” you whimpered. “I need you inside of me, filling me up—”

“Oh,” he moaned, “don’t do this to me, YN. I won’t last.”

“Undress me,” you told him, and he complied, tossing your pajamas aside until you were left in nothing but your panties, which were already stained with a wet spot, evidence of how badly you needed him. 

His hands smoothed over the expanse of your chest, groping at the soft flesh and leaning down to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. 

You exhaled, shivering, unused to such a gentle touch from your lover. You couldn’t help but want more of him; rougher, harder, faster. But he took his time with you, worshipping your body, committing every inch of skin to memory as if, at any second, you’d be gone. 

Oscar got down from the bed onto his knees before you, staring up at you with a lustful yet innocent adoration. He gently pawed at the softness of your thighs, spreading them open and he pulled you to the edge of the bed. The thin, soaked fabric of your panties was the only barrier between him and the fullness of your body, and he quickly pulled them off, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thighs as his eyes met your wet slit. 

“I want to make you cum on my tongue,” he said, one hand groping your left thigh as he kissed your right. He looked so beautiful, bowed before you, worshipping between your legs. 

“Please,” you begged. You were already quivering with anticipation, and he’d barely even touched you. 

“I love you,” he murmured into your skin, soft enough that you could barely understand him. Even with the muffled words, you could feel the sweet sentiment as he held your legs open and flattened his tongue to like a stripe from your opening to your clit, ending with his lips gently pressed to the bundle of nerves. 

You let out a sinful sound at the feeling, tensing up your thighs around his face as he ate you out like a starved man, savoring every bit of wetness he could lick up. Your hands instinctively found his hair as you leaned back, quivering at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your clit. One hand held your hip firmly in place, preventing you from squirming, while the other skillfully pumped two fingers in and out of you.

“O-Oscar…” you moaned, close to the edge.

He stopped. “You okay?”

“Don’t stop, please,” you begged, throwing your head back in pleasure as he fingered you faster, his mouth sucking on your clit. You squealed, letting out a high pitched whine as you came undone, fulfilling his wish. He licked up every drop of you, steadying you by holding your legs in his strong arms as they shook from the intensity of your climax. 

His name fell from your lips again and again, and he got back on the bed, laying you out beneath him. Your hair sprawled in a halo against the pillows, and he sat up above you, admiring the sight of you, desperate with wanting before him. 

“Oscar, please,” you begged. “I need you.”

He leaned down to kiss your neck again, whispering in your ear, “You need me?”

“Need you inside of me,” you echoed.

“No,” he said, taking off his own last layers until both of you were fully bare, “I need you. Need you wrapped around me. Need to stretch you out, fill you up.”

There were no words left with which to beg him, and your doe eyes staring at him were all he needed to take you fully. He let out a low groan as he sank into you, your velvety insides gripping him so perfectly. The sweet burn of him taking you was heavenly. 

“It’s always been you, YN,” he moaned as he fucked into you, slow but deep strokes making you see stars. “I’ve always wanted you. I always needed you—fuck. Love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”

You reached for the muscles of his back, feeling them straining with every thrust as he held back from ruining you. He wanted to last, to fuck you slow and gentle, but he couldn’t help the lust that only grew hearing your sweet sounds, breathy in his ear.

You needed him closer. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you, and all you could hear was the obscene sounds of your wetness and Oscar groaning into your mouth as he brought his lips to yours again. His hand rested on your waist as he pushed as far as he could into you, resting for a moment. 

“You feel so fucking good. I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t stop,” you whined.

“But I wanna take my time with you,” he whispered against your skin. 

“We have all night,” you teased. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he pounded into you, and you squealed. You had both run out of words, too enraptured with the bliss of the other’s body against your own, becoming one again after so long. You had finally given in, and it felt too fucking good. Your brain shut off, only able to think about your own impending climax as he rutted into you, bringing you both closer and closer to the edge.

“My perfect girl. Oh, God, I’m so close. I love you—fuck, I’m gonna…” You stretched down his back as he gave one last, violent thrust into you before spilling his seed inside of you, moaning obscenely into your ear. He reached down and roughly rubbed at your sensitive clit until you came too, the empty home now full of the unrestrained sounds of your pleasure.

He held you there as you both steadied your breath, and as the static in your ears grew quiet, all you could hear was his breathing and yours, indistinguishable in the aftermath of your lovemaking. He gently kissed you, crading your face in his hands like you were a gentle, precious thing.

“I love you,” he murmured over and over through his shaky breaths. “I love you so much.”

You couldn’t bask in the afterglow, though, as your logic swiftly came back to you. “Oscar, did you finish inside of me?”

Your lover just hummed in response. “Oscar,” you said, your voice more urgent now, “I’m not on birth control.”

He was snapped out of his reverie. “You’re not? YN, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was just caught up in the moment—”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even mean to—”

You laughed out of the sheer absurdity of it all. “Of course this would happen to us. I am so fucking stupid…”

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, resuming his affection by bringing his lips back to your cheek. “Isn’t this what Plan B is for?” 

You exhaled sharply, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll just take the pill. I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

“Hey,” he said, turning your face to look at him. “It will be fine. I promise. I’m here for you no matter what.”

You exhaled again, this time an attempt at a real release of tension. 

“Breathe with me,” he said, and you took a few deep breaths in unison as he snuggled next to you, tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your stomach to calm you. It worked, and feeling the warmth of his bare skin against your own brought you to a sense of peace.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m here,” he repeated, lulling you into something like sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, letting him hold you as exhaustion finally took hold. 

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(back again, passed all my midterms and finally getting antidepressants😝, this is a VERY Johnny centric chapter)

tw: depression, lotta angst but aftercare this time, mentions of neglect, courting, mentions of bullets, being shot, medical treatment, rehabilitation, forced cuddles (but needed), hitting head against stuff, lots of whining, biting, scratching

It was wrong, he knew it.

He hadn’t been there originally, too cooped up in a sterile medical room, the harsh, stinging scent of a scent blocking spray burning his nostrils till he couldn’t smell anything at all. Mushy food he could barely shove down his throat, only tolerating it so they didn’t shove a feeding tube down his throat. Lukewarm water that tasted suspiciously like painkillers.

His head throbbed, the bullet having already been pulled out as soon as he was wheeled into the emergency room, doctors crowding around, yelling, ordering. Too much noise, in his opinion.

Especially when there was already so much going on in his head.

Everything had been fine, until it hadn’t been. He’d heard of a replacement on his team for him, temporary, they’d said, because of his medical suspension. He only had to get through a few months of physical therapy and a few medical tests before being thrown back onto the field.

He originally hadn’t known what to think. Simon had come visited him, told him of the strange alpha there, how quiet they were, how meek. The Ghost seemed to see it as a weakness, but Simon almost talked like he appreciated it, regardless of his annoyance.

“Tryin’ to replace you, well it isn’t working.”

He’d grumbled, making sure not to say anything the camera would pick up. Any mention of something potentially “triggering” could set Soap off, he’d been told. If he said anything toeing the line, he could be removed or banned.

Johnny had been intrigued at first, at the thought of a new alpha, seeing as there weren’t many in the SAS program. Especially not an American, on a British team. His thoughts were filled with the Southern twangy accent, “soda”, “chips” instead of crisps, arguments over soccer and football and which was which.

But now, months after the initial incident with Makarov, he’d recovered just in time to watch everything crumble and to try and help clean up the mess. You didn’t know him. Maybe that would give him a fresh start with you, maybe you’d like it.

He was still fucked in the head, voices whispering until he’d hush them, snappier, a bit angry at how much space he took up, but he supposed that you might be a bit fucked in the head too, just in the opposite way than him.

But as he’d crept up to your room in the middle of the night, slowly cracking the door open, he still felt it was wrong. There was no medical expert here if something went wrong. This was his riskiest bomb defusing yet, it felt like an all or nothing situation.

The room was practically dripping with a sour and pungent smell of distress and the unmistakable scent of depression, the feeling seeming to press down on him like a heavy weight, as if he was hundreds of miles underneath the sea, nearly being crushed by the pure atmosphere.

As he closed the door behind him with a small click, he heard rustling, the sound of those uncomfortable paper textured blankets the military provided, and a little sniff, before it stopped. He stood still as could be, trying not to wake you just yet, hoping he would be able to make more out of you when his eyesight adjusted.

Only the tiniest sliver of moonlight snuck through the small window in the room, though it was covered by a blanket. Gaz had updated him on the syndrome, how it meant no bright lights.

Soap didn’t consider himself a genius, but he didn’t think it was a great idea to just submerge you into complete darkness and sight deprivation with no warning. Especially not while you were struggling.

He rolled from the ball of his feet to the sides, heavy boots not even on, only his red and green socks that his sister-in-law had bought him for secret Santa one year donning his feet as he moved quietly. Carefully grasping the blanket covering the window, he brushed it aside a little more, more gentle light flooding the room as a beam landed on near the side of the bed, allowing him a bit more vision of you.

And when he finally turned and managed to see you?

His heart dropped.

Your eyes were puffy from crying, corners red and eyelids tightly shut as if to block everything out. Your lips were downturned, almost as if whining even in sleep as you seemed to pant somehow quietly. As if not to alarm or alert anyone despite your own suffering.

What really got him was the way you were curled up, arms and legs wrapped tightly around in a ball as if to protect your vital organs, your paper thin blanket maneuvered around as if to resemble a nest. He could barely see you, considering you were underneath the bed. Hidden.

The blanket seemed to resemble the nest you’d been kept from entering, and shunned from by his own pack.

He couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of him at his own distress of seeing you, you clearly distraught, hair greasy and tangled, clothes dirty, not even having enough energy to care for yourself. If only the scent of your emotions in this room alone had been enough to almost crush him, how close were you to being smashed between the weight pressing in on you?

Or had you already been crushed, and none of them had even cared enough to notice?

A flood of anger burner through his veins hotter than any pain he’d experienced on the job as he saw the clear signs of his pack’s neglect of you. Simon had visited him multiple times a week, but hadn’t even tried with you. Price had pulled the strings to get him better food in the med wing (even if it had still been bad), but he hadn’t cared enough to even provide proper materials for you to make a faux nest? Gaz had brought him sketchbooks and helped him feel comfortable in physical therapy, but hadn’t even tried to court you with any of the special gifts he had done with Price when first joining?

It was unfair. Unbelievable, to think the grown men who had done so much, saved so many lives, sacrificed everything to save the world, wouldn’t even give up their pride if it meant welcoming a new member to the team.

It was discriminatory, to dislike you purely because you were an alpha. It was unfair to dislike you purely because you were a replacement.

He watched you squirm a bit, maybe reacting to his scent unconsciously. He knew he couldn’t smell the best, not when he had been around a sterile hospital for months. Maybe the cocoa butter Vaseline that the physical therapist had used on him would cover it a bit, though.

He crept closer, hand reaching out, before pulling back again as he hesitated, shifting onto his knees in front of your bed, before just laying down on his side to see you under it. His breathing grew a bit shaky due to anxiety as he reached out, brushing his hand against yours, watching your brows furrow unconsciously as you mumbled something.

It was only when he slipped his full hand into your surprisingly calloused palm that your eyelids fluttered, and you jolted awake, yanking away from him with your teeth bared back, a wild animalistic fear in your eyes. A low growl that reverberated through his bones came out, and he understood in that moment that you weren’t just a bomb he had to defuse.

You were a high value target that wasn’t afraid to fight back, not just some stationary object he wanted to fix. This wasn’t a defusing mission, it was more a complicated stakeout, where all he could do was make careful moves, waiting for you to take the initiative.

However, as you pulled harshly away from him, your head reared back and slammed into the metal frame above you. A pained whining groan slipped out, and Soap couldn’t take it anymore.

Mission be damned, stakeout be damned, his instincts got the better of him yet again. The exact reason he’d taken a bullet to the head. But he found that he would risk taking another bullet to the head if he could just comfort you, let you know that you weren’t alone, that he understood.

It was a worthy risk, in his opinion.

He grabbed part of your shoulder, putting his foot against the bed frame and lifting up, and pulled you right out from under.

His arms wrapped around you, even as you struggled and hissed, desperately trying to mask the pain in your scent with what he could tell was poorly produced anger. The littlest hint of comfort he could smell, that seemed to lighten the atmosphere just a bit.

He held on, even as you clawed at him, and bit his arms (which he might’ve enjoyed, just a little bit), he held on. He held on because he’d always had people holding onto him, Price, Gaz, and Ghost, with their vice grip that held him and their pack together.

They had failed to hold onto you, so he would.

And eventually, you stopped struggling. You went a little bit limp, whined a bit more as your head must’ve been throbbing (he knew how that felt), before finally, finally leaning the slightest bit into him.

Johnny didn’t need to be told that the next few months would be difficult. That the pack would struggle and go through hardships they hadn’t yet faced before. Hell, it had already been strained since his injury. He had gone through months of rehabilitation, and still wasn’t the exact same.

But as he lied on the cold floor with you in his arms, leaning just the tiniest bit into him, he knew that the both of you could heal together, even if from completely different things.

At least he was drowning with you, instead of being alone.

(idk how to feel about this tbh, I think I put too much symbolism since I wrote it in one take while in a mood, but I wanna play roblox so just gonna post this and dip)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[dollgxtz]

I’m seeing a lot of “People are so soft, of course Caleb drugged MC he’s a yandere.” discourse here and on twitter.

As a dark content writer, I wanted to add my two cents. So firstly, it genuinely pisses me off when I see statements like that. People are not soft for having boundaries and triggers. They are not soft for not wanting to be drugged in their fictional game? Like hello? A lot of people have irl traumas surrounding it too so it makes sense why they’re upset that it got sprung upon them in the main story.

Infold should’ve added a content warning. Full stop. It was very distasteful of them to spring this onto people. I’ve genuinely seen people in the lads community express how uncomfortable they felt or how they weren’t expecting it and got triggered.

It truly hurts my heart as someone who writes this kind of content, because the last thing I’d ever want to do is trigger someone with His Watchful Eye unexpectedly. That’s why it’s properly tagged and multiple warnings are given at the beginning so people know what they’re getting into. I tag every potential trigger and sometimes I still feel it’s not enough. That goes for any of my fics tbh.

Stuff like this really does give us who enjoy dark content a bad name. Like we have to realize we are the minority, majority of people do not enjoy that and it’s okay!! We shouldn’t be shamed for what we enjoy, but that doesn’t mean we should turn around and shame others for what they don’t enjoy.

“This must be y’all’s first otome game”

Please stop it with that statement too. There’s no prize for who’s the most desensitized 😭.

I’ve always encouraged freedom of expression with His Watchful Eye. I don’t get upset when people tell me they wish Yan!Sylus would die or they hate him and hope him and MC don’t end up together. I love Yan!Sylus. But does that mean I expect others to? Absolutely not!! That’s the beauty of fiction, everyone has different opinions on it!

All in all, let’s not shame people okay? People are vastly different in their opinions and thoughts, so let’s keep it respectful. Let’s not attack real people over fictional characters yall 🤍

Adding a pic of Sylus that I took below cause I literally can’t stop looking at it 😌

[wheneverfeasible]

Girlie, I'm gonna need some abo recs. Steddie and otherwise. You've got me intrigued

(lowkey browsing your blog for more writing)

Oh! Yes! Hello!

First off, I do want to point out that when using the initials, it’s best to use slashes in-between (a/b/o) as the term without those is actually a slur against the Australian indigenous community. Just something to think about, no hate or anything! ♥️

As for recs, I’ll just stick with Steddie for now as that’s my brainrot ship…

Honestly, anything by @lexirosewrites is fantastic. My personal favorites tho are:

Bad Bet wherein Steve is a secret omega and bet by Tommy to take alpha and freak Eddie Munson to prom as a prank, only to fall for the strange alpha.

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind) where famous actor and secret omega Steve finds his scentmate through an online dating service thanks to Robin.

Bandaids for the Heart where Steve is a pediatric nurse and Eddie is a single dad whose kiddo might be trying to play matchmaker.

And the Sun Will Rise which has Steve as a packless omega suffering through isolation sickness during the zombie apocalypse, until a certain alpha and his pack take him in.

Baby Mine wherein Eddie discovers he’s pregnant and because of past trauma assumes Steve will expect him to get rid of it, so it’s definitely angsty but with sweet comfort and a happy ending.

But really all of their stuff is fantastic.

As for other fics, I heartily recommend Look For the Boy With the Broken Smile, Ask Him if He Wants to Stay Awhile by Eenselwig_98 ( @sunlight-and-moonshine) and honestly it might be time for another reread of this fic for myself too. But Steve is an omega who’s been hurt so many times that he thinks he’s only good enough to fuck and not mate, except Eddie is head over heels for him.

And can’t forget Whatever you want it to be by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation where omega Eddie is slipped a heat triggering drug by Jason who plans to assault him but he’s saved by Steve who offers his assistance with the after effects of the drug.

Build a Life With You by StarsHideYourFires ( @starshideurfics ) which is a historical omegaverse where omega Steve has a secret that leads him to abandoning the socialite life to become a mail order bride to an alpha he never met in a small rural town. (The author has a lot of fics I enjoy, actually, but I’m only sharing finished fics here, but do please check out the other stuff too!)

the potential of us by emchant3d has both enemies-to-lovers and former hookups fake dating as omega Steve and alpha Eddie try to get their besties off their backs about dating each other. Side ship Buckingham.

feel forever its soft fall and swell by hejustlikemefr which is another historical omegaverse that is an Organ Trail kind of au, young omega Steve and older alpha Eddie have a marriage of convenience to help protect Steve.

The Unbearable Horniness of Steve by @fkinkindagauche has that delicious angst of the classic friends-to-lovers and some classic misunderstanding. (The author also has a Harringrove fic called Goldilocks for all you Billy lovers out there.)

It’ll be fine. Probably. by @stevieschrodinger which is a modern au with an omega Eddie who finds out he’s pregnant and returns to Hawkins where he runs into high school crush and current librarian, alpha Steve Harrington. I love this version of Eddie so much.

Good Omega by Batty4Steddie and @spicycinnabun is another excellent omega Eddie fic where alpha Steve is in the band with him and flirt on stage and Steve is ready to finally claim Eddie as his while Eddie…assumes Steve is straight.

And then we have my lovely @katyawriteswhump with so many wonderful offerings that I can’t even attempt to list them, each one full of angst, fluff, humor, and feels.

Honestly there’s so many I loved and enjoyed but I would say these fics and authors are a great place to start. Many of them inspired my own writing so every single one of them is worth checking out. Each have their own style and it makes for such a lovely exploration of a beloved trope.

And I know that there’s more out there, but this is getting a bit long already, so maybe I’ll do another rec list one of these days lol.

Now off to work I must go! I hope you find joy in these favorites of mine just like I did, my dear anon!

Love to all these fantastic and marvelously talented creators! I’m definitely rereading some these rn 🤭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I've Got You Under My Skin 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The keys jingle loudly as you rush out the door with your purse in your other hand. You just need to get out of the house. Sometimes, it feels like a prison. Especially lately. Since the fight.

You feel horrid for what you did. You made a mistake, sure, but you think Steve is right. You weren't paying attention to what he said. Now that you think of it, you may have misinterpreted your conversation based entirely on your own doubts.

Still, you're going to show him that you can do this. You've been reading up on it all night. Researching everything you need.

As you hit the button on the key tag, the car beeps and unlocks. The SUV is a bit bigger than what you would pick but Steve thought it was a good family vehicle. Besides, it's his money.

"Hey," he startles you as he appears from beside the garage. You blink and drop the keys.

"Hi, Stevie," you blanch and bend to pick up the keys as he approaches.

"You're running out," he doesn't sound impressed.

"Um, yes, um, doing some errands. Groceries."

"You could order."

You gulp, "I'm sorry. I was only... wanting to get out."

"Alone?" He inquires.

"Yeah, what--"

"You're not meeting up with Natasha for one of those sugary coffees?" He challenges.

You wince. "No, Captain. I'm not drinking caffeine anymore. It's not good... for conception."

He tilts his head and his cheek dimples, "ah, good girl."

"Do you want to come with me?" You offer.

His shoulders ease, "no. You can go. Grab some more protein. The banana stuff?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Drive safe," he girds.

"I always do."

He nods and turns back, "I'm gonna finish up the weeds."

You stare after him as he marches away. What does he mean? You just dealt with the garden. Once again, not good enough.

You get in the car and adjust the wheel and the seat. You buckle up and set your feet on the pedals. You flip the engine and put it in reverse.

You back out through the gate and onto the street. You drive, jaw locked, fingers cramped, tense in anticipation. You just want to make this better. You just don't know if it's too late.

You go to the grocery store first. You get the few items on your list. You have a lot of the staples still in the cupboards. You check out and use Steve's card. You don't have one anymore. He's a lot better with money than you.

Your next adventure makes you nervous. You stop outside the shop and stare through the window at the stuffed bunnies and the onesies. The maternity shop makes it all so real. You still feel so young. But you can do this. With Steve. He knows what he's doing.

You enter and the air rushes from your chest. Oh. Okay. That breast pump makes you nervous.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A woman chimes an approaches in a bubbly bounce. Her blond ringlets are perfect.

"Ummmm..." you fidget with your phone. "I looked online. Um, for prenatal supplements."

"Ah, yes, we have a whole aisle," she waves her arm and turns to stand beside you. "Do you have questions?"

"A lot," you admit.

"How long have you been trying? Oh, are you already expecting?" She wonders.

The questions feel too personal. Still, it's not like you came here without a purpose. You follow her to the far wall lined with bottles and vials of tablets.

"We're trying. Right now. Starting to. I just want to be healthy." You explain.

"Uh, huh, wonderful," she rubs her hands together. "Some of these you won't need until you're expecting but we can get you a few things. Maybe just have a look around for some inspiration, huh?"

"Sure, that sounds... good."

She explains to you all the organic supplements and even recommends some aphrodisiacs. Thing is, Steve doesn't need those. You pick a few and follow her around as she shows you mobiles and blankies. There's a little Cap squishee even. You pick it up and smile. He'll love that.

You take your goods to the counter and she rings you up. You dig in your purse and hand your card to her. She reads it passingly then pauses. 

"I thought you were familiar. Your Mr. Rogers. The Mrs. Rogers."

You squirm. Oh no. You forget how famous Steve is. Well, it's fine. It's not like she would tell anyone you know, right?

You just nod, "do you have bags?"

"Oh yes, I'll put this all away for you," she unfolds a paper bag and loads it up. "Anything else, Mrs. Rogers."

"Yeah," you choke. "My name's..." you correct her. Sometimes, you just feel like a part of Steve. Not your own person. "Thanks."

You take the bag and your card and leave. You sniff as you get to car and climb into the front seat. You put your purchase in front of the passenger's and sit there a while. You feel weird about this.

Just nerves. You start the car and head home. The trip is too quick. You're not ready.

You get out with the small paper bag and go around the trunk to get the reusable one with the T-bone steak and protein powder. You hit the button to close the hatch and go inside. You'd love to stay out in the sun but you couldn't relax if you tried.

"Stevie?" You call as you reach the kitchen. "Hello?"

He doesn't answer. You wonder if he's outside. You set to putting everything away.

"You're back." He greets, once more frightening you. You hate that.

"I got steak for supper. For you. I'll have some turkey."

"Great," it's not a happy remark. "You didn't come straight home."

You look away guiltily and shake your head. You're so stupid. You know he must have a tracker on the car. You grab the white paper bag.

"I was getting surprises." You offer him the bag. "Stevie, please, I'm sorry. And I meant it. I am trying."

You hold it out and he reaches inside with a scowl. His brows move in curiosity and he pulls out the Captain America plush. His expression softens and he peeks into the bag.

"Supplements. To get ready. And I'll go back for iron pills once I'm ready," you explain. "And I've been reading all night about how to get a baby. I should lay on my back and stay after for a bit. And-- and I ordered a book."

He tosses the plush and grabs you. His hands frame your face as you drop the bag and he pushes you back into the counter. His mouth covers yours as he growls.

You whine and touch his chest, overcome by his force. You were so afraid he wouldn't forgive you, that you're entirely unprepared for this. You manage to pull back.

"I-- Stevie, it won't happen now. But I threw everything out."

"I don't care," he snarls and drops his hands to your hips, "I need you right now." 

He lifts you onto the counter and you squeal. Your stomach flips but you ignore that flicker of fear. How you feel doesn't matter, as long as the Captain's happy.

[nijigasakilove]

AN OTOME SERIES WHERE A GUY GETS ISEKAI’D AS THE VILLAINESS???? HE’S LIVING MY DREAM!!!

This is already one of the best villainess shows of all time just because of that alone. It instantly differentiates itself from pretty much every other one besides maybe Tsunliese where they were playing the game in the real world while the events played out in the anime lol.

Close enough, welcome back Claire Francois. But it’s not just Grace’s appearance that makes this similar to Wataoshi. Anna reminds me so much of Rae lol. That awkward moment when you accidentally trigger the yuri route.. 😂 poor Grace just wanted to set up Anna with the princess, now she’s got an admirer

This episode was a riot all the way through. The animation is surprisingly great and the humor really lands. The MC being a 52 year old dad and salaryman with two adult daughters in his old life makes for a really interesting dynamic with he and the other characters here. He actually ACTS like a middle man too. Not perving out over the girls or getting all flustered. Just doing his best to be a villainess while doting on the people in this world, like a proud parent.

This has the potential to be an all timer. Again, HiDive don’t license a lot of stuff, but when they do they’re always bangers

[thydungeongal]

Social interaction mechanics are my gleeblor. I've really mostly played D&D and D&D-likes (and a single one-shot in Star Trek Adventures where we mostly repaired stuff), so the only idea of social mechanics I really have is reaction rolls.

(don't get me started on 3e-style skill checks. those are worse than nothing.)

Anyway I do kind of want to understand this concept. Would you mind providing an example or two? Assume I have never played a PBTA game.

Absolutely! I'm going to use Apocalypse World as my example here!

Apocalypse World only has one social interaction mechanic: the "Seduce or Manipulate Someone" move. Moves are PbtA parlance and even though a lot of ink can be spilled on the subject at the end of the day what a move is is a specific situation in the game where the game steps in and says "I have input on this." Apocalypse World especially really emphasizes the fact that if moves are not being triggered then the game basically progresses as free play, but once a move is triggered it happens and its specific mechanics kick in.

It's a fancy way of saying "here's a social mechanic and here's what sorts of situations you'll use it in."

This is the trigger for Seduce or Manipulate Someone:

When you try to seduce, manipulate, bluff, fast-talk, or lie to someone, tell them what you want them to do, give them a reason, and roll+hot.

Roll+hot here means rolling 2d6 and adding the character's Hot stat (usually between -1 and +2) with static thresholds: a result of 10+ means a full success, 7-9 means partial success, and 6 or lower means failure (and there are specific principles about what happens on 6- which I won't get into here).

Interestingly, this is where the move actually splits into two, giving different outcomes depending on whether it's being used on an NPC or a PC:

For NPCs: on a 10+, they go along with you, unless or until some fact or action betrays the reason you gave them. On a 7-9, they'll go along with you, but they need some concrete assurance, corroboration, or evidence first. For PCs: on a 10+, both. On a 7-9, choose 1:

• If they go along with you, they mark experience.

• If they refuse, erase one of their stat highlights for the remainder of the session.

What they do then is up to them.

On a miss, for either NPCs or PCs, be prepared for the worst.

At the end of the day it isn't that different in principle from a modern D&D style "make a Charisma (Persuasion) check" but there are two things that stand out here: first, even for NPCs, a clearly stated part of the action is needing to present the target with a reason for going along with you. Whether the target "complies" or not is entirely rules-mediated, but the character still needs to present some reason for the NPC to go along.

Secondly, the same mechanic can be used to manipulate other PCs, but because player characters are controlled by other players they can't be simply mind-controlled: instead, manipulation is handled via carrot (reward of XP for complying) and stick (loss of a highlighted stat, one of the potential sources of XP, for refusing), but at the end of the day the character is not robbed of choice.

Monsterhearts uses a similar system BUT it specifically turns seduction into its own move which is used to gain Strings (an abstract social currency) over other characters. Strings are always specific to a character and spending a String on someone else comes with a multitude of benefits, but one of the most important ones is that spending a String on a player character in Monsterhearts allows the character to do the "If you go along, experience, if you don't, punishment" part of the move without needing to roll.

But yeah, the main takeaway here is that it takes in an input of both describing what the character is doing and saying and what they are offering, a roll (to take some of the arbitration out of player hands), and then outputs a result that is specific but imprecise. It is, at the end of the day, a game played through the medium of language, so like the result of the action is still expressed in those terms. Instead of like. They take 5 points of rhetorical damage to their argument.

Now, having said that, there absolutely are games out there that do model social mechanics in a "deal rhetorical damage to the enemy's argument" type of way, but they differ from the typical "numbers game" model that I presented in that they usually require more specific inputs from players than simply pointing their character's charisma at a target and rolling. Burning Wheel's Duel of Wits is a great example of this, and it's basically almost akin to old-school D&D psionic combat in how its various arguments and defences bounce off each other. But it's absolutely not the norm when it comes to social interaction mechanics in games.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Y'all, Freefall Gambit is so good 😩❤️‍🔥 Loved the return of Onychinus Sylus! He was aura farming so hard in this card, I had to restrain myself from audibly fangirling ijbol. I do feel like this card is sort of preparing us for the upcoming branch, where we'll most likely see alot more of this type of stuff and of this particular dynamic of SylusMC. Of being on opposing sides. Lots of angst and potential for drama, as well as self reflection and growth on especially MC's part.

My sole complaint is that Sylus isn't wearing the suit from the illustration ＿|￣|● I love his Onychinus fit as much as the next person but man... that suit... I will cry if they intend on forever gatekeeping it.

Because I want to avoid spoiling anyone that doesn't have the card yet, I've decided to write down some of my immediate thoughts below the cut.

Let's get the angsty predictions out of the way first – these lines set my alarm bells off. I feel like they are foreshadowing that something of Sylus' will indeed get taken or lost. Or rather someone. That someone ofc being MC, his most precious treasure.

I'll admit that these would not have alarmed me had it not been for certain lines in Sylus' birthday event and in Greedy Heart. I go into why exactly those lines make me uneasy in the linked post, and I just feel like the above ones further reinforces my theory. Call me paranoid or angst obsessed, but I predict pain for both SylusMC and for us in the main story, perhaps even in the coming branch.

On a similar note, just as how Sylus' vulnerability and fear (MC, and MC getting hurt or worse respectively) has been brought up more than once recently, so has MC's. Namely, that Sylus will get caught and put away, or become weak. We see these fears in Valleydream Bloom and in this card, as well as in Where Hearts Live. So things might be building up exactly to that.

I thought it was interesting how MC specifically mentions that the Association have Evol suppressing equipment. Which leads me to believe that said equipment could potentially be used against Sylus at some point to subdue him (provided of course that Sylus' powers are indeed Evol and not demonic/draconic based, but that is an eventual topic for another day). Idk but something tells me that Sylus will get captured whether willingly (most likely) or unwillingly. After all, we do see Sylus behind bars in the music video to Visions Opposées.

Could it be foreshadowing or just a neat visual? Only time will tell.

Me personally though, I am leaning towards the former, and I can see both MC's and Sylus' fears coming to fruition. Maybe even in a connected way (MC gets kidnapped and/or hurt and Sylus jumps in to save her but gets weakened or subdued in doing so, or Sylus gets captured by the Association, MC gets gravely injured trying to save him and maybe in the process triggers Sylus' dragon form and with it MC's memories? Boom. Several birds one stone. Helluva plotline imo)

What I still don't believe will come to pass however is either of them perma dying. This is an otome gacha. The main character nor LI can't die, especially not in a game as young and fresh as Love and Deepspace. So on that front I am not at all worried. Doesn't mean the angst we do get won't hurt a lot, though. But that being said, SylusMC will persevere in the end. Trust. Neither will let the other get torn away from them. Either will move heaven and earth to bring their lover back come what may.

Moving on...

I thought this was a nice callback to Sylus' anecdote

Here Sylus is revealed to actually be a sort of deepspace Robin Hood. We stan.

And the crowd cheered!!!

Also this is actually why Sylus jumped out of the plane. Man needed some cool and fresh air after this comment made all his blood flow south...

This makes me cackle 😭 bro is so unserious. And actually kind of insane, but again, we stan.

MC is living the dream. Do you know what I'd sacrifice to wrap my arms around that waist?? Happy for my girl though 💞 ( and for Sylus, you know that man is on cloud 9 here).

I adore that the card ends on a sweet and nostalgic note, with them gazing at the moon... like they used to in a distant past 💗

[acesinferno]

What if (Portgas D. Ace X Reader)

I made a big long post talking about how just a simple little phrase affects my everyday life. So I'm going to start putting it to use and maybe doing a 'what if' series for my favorite characters from One Piece. Like I said in the post all of this writing is for my own comfort, but I'm posting it in case someone like me who spends all their time reading fan fiction wants something to read.

Synopsis: Ace lives after Marineford but has to deal with the deaths of people on the crew dying. His best friend and partner is there to comfort him when he feels responsible.

Additional stuff: Hurt/Comfort and Fluff

Potential Trigger Warnings and other mentions: Mentions of Death, Spoilers for Marineford Arc, Grieving, Strong Language, Bathing/Washing

Word count: 2.5K

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace X GN! Reader

"Ace?" You call out as you walk into his cabin. It's been almost three weeks since Marineford and the deaths of your captain, Whitebeard, and so many other good people on your crew. Ace hasn't stepped out of his cabin since. Marco has had to go in to even change his bandages. 

"What?" He snaps as he turns his head toward you at the door. He looks like a total mess. His hair looks like a rat's nest, his face puffy and red from crying, and he just looks completely miserable. 

"Brought you some food." You motion to the tray of food in your hand. Ace never turns down a good meal. You walk over to his bed and sit down on the edge of it. He doesn't meet your gaze as you get a better look at him. His cheeks are gaunt and pale. The color and life you've grown accustomed to in them are gone. He looks to be a shell of his former self. 

"Don't really want to eat right now, partner. Thanks, though." He sighs. You set the tray down on the blanket adjacent to him and scoot closer to his side. He barely even glances up as you move. Once you're completely side by side next to him, you make a point not to look at him. 

"Ace. Talk to me. I really can't stand seeing you like this. It's not like you whatsoever." You tell him, blindly reaching to grab his hand and hold it in your own for reassurance. He mumbles something entirely incoherent. "What? I didn't hear you?" You question. 

"I said it's my fault! It's all my fault! If I hadn't been set to be executed, then no one would have gotten hurt! No one would've died! Pops would still be here!" He cries out. Ace has always held himself to a much higher standard than anyone else, thinking he has to work hard for people's love and approval. 

"Ace.... What happened, it wasn't your fault. Everyone there knew the risks that were included to get you back; we didn't care. We chose to risk our lives because we wanted to save you. End of story." You tell him. "Tell me. If it was Marco on the chopping block or Jozu or even Whitebeard himself, would you have wanted to leave them?" You ask him with a pout.

"That's completely different, and you know it." He scowls as he speaks. His arms going up to cross over his chest in a huff. He's glaring at the side of your head as you continue to face forwards. 

"How is it different?" You interrogate. "I don't see a difference. In fact, it makes total sense. You're the second division commander, Ace. That's not a title to let go of lightly. You're a high-ranking officer in the crew." You state, he scoffs as you bring up his rank. "You're also our family, Ace. Pops called you his son; that's not something to forget either. You're also my best friend in this whole world." You admit. 

"So many people died. So many good crewmates, including our captain. I'm not worth all of that." He winces. When you finally look over at him again, you see tears forming in his eyes. Ever the caring best friend, you lift your hand and cup his face in your palm. 

"You think you get to decide that? The people who fought to save your life decided what you were worth, and it was a whole damn lot." You grin at him. "So are you going to tell them they're wrong? Going to sit here and rot in your bed when people sacrificed themselves to see you continue to live and to thrive? I don't think that's very grateful at all, Ace." You explain as you caress his cheek with your thumb. "Make 'em proud, Ace. I know you have it in you." You voice your opinion on him out loud to break through to him. 

"It's not that easy." He proclaims. "I still feel like shit for getting put on the chopping block in the first place. I'm not just going to magically feel better about myself. They're still gone. Not coming back." He explains with an exasperated sigh, his hands on his chest, falling to his lap. 

"I didn't expect you to magically feel better, Ace. No pretty words can fix every feeling you have in an instant. You've got to work for it. Work to feel better and to learn to cope properly. But hoarding yourself away in your room and wasting away isn't the move." You profess. "Ace, it's going to take time. I know that; you know that. But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm right by your side." You tell him. Your other free hand goes to the other side of his face to force him to look you in the eyes. 

"What if I can't do it? What if I can't move on from this? You'd be wasting your time on a lost cause, partner." He looks so vulnerable as some of the tears start to fall down his freckled cheeks. 

As your thumb comes up to wipe the tears off his cheeks, you reply with a whispered tone. "What if you can, Ace?" He looks shocked. "What if you can move on from it? What if you prove Pops and everyone else right? What if you continue to live and make them all proud? Did you ever think of that?" You question. Tears are streaming down his face at a constant rate now as he takes in your words. 

Before he can fully gather his thoughts and respond, you move your hands from his face and wrap around his torso and pull him into a hug. He so obviously needed one. "Besides, you've still got Luffy to watch out for. Can't have you stuck in bed for the rest of your life. He needs his big brother." You laugh lightly as you hold him against you. He doesn't even try to respond as he soaks your shirt in tears.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you, Ace. So many people who wanted to see what amazing things you can accomplish. It's worth a try. I mean, really, what have you got to lose?" You hum as you hold him, rubbing soothing circles into the skin on his back. Running your hands up and down his Jolly Roger tattoo. "I'm sure Pops is waiting in the afterlife to see what great things you'll achieve." You announce with a smile on your face.

He nods against you as his sobs get louder. You can tell he just needed to let this all out. He's been bottling this up for weeks now. As you sit there and hold him, you begin to hum soft sea shanties to calm him. His sobs quiet into soft cries and then go silent, but he doesn't move against you. When you look down, you realize Ace has fallen asleep against you. You can't tell if it's his narcolepsy that knocked him out or if it's just been a long time since he's slept. Just the state of him lets you know how rough he's been on himself after everything. 

As you hold him, you begin to think it's more of the latter. You maneuver the two of you down on the bed and cover you both up, careful of the food you brought in. He's sleeping soundly pressed up against you, though he's lying completely limp. You decide to watch over him for the next few hours, foregoing your own sleep to make sure he gets peaceful rest. 

It's going to take a long time for him to fully recover and be back to his old self, but with you there by his side, you're sure everything will work out. You won't let your best friend stay in this hole forever. No way, no how. 

After about nine or so hours of him sleeping, he wakes up to the sun rising through his porthole window. He looks groggy as he wakes up, blinking like he's confused about what he's cuddled up to. "Good morning, Ace." You say in a teasing tone. "Someone cried himself to sleep in my arms last night. You must have been exhausted." You giggle. His face turns red as he averts his eyes from your gaze.

"Come on. I'm not letting you mope any longer." You tell him. "We're getting you a bath and taking you to Marco's office so he can change your bandages." You declare as you get out of the bed and grab his hands to drag him out with you. He groans as you pull him out but stands before he can fall onto the floor. 

"Marco's left me the stuff here to change the bandages myself. Do I really have to go to his office?" He whines as he gets yanked further into the bathroom. As you let go of him and start to fill the tub up with warm water, you look up and see the state of his bandages. 

"Have you even changed them once since he left the stuff?" You ask as you see how grimy they look. "It looks like you've laid down on the deck and rolled in the dirt everyone's tracked on." You comment. Once the water is filled up to an adequate level, you turn your attention to him completely. You begin to unravel all the bandages and see the damage that's left after this past month of healing.

Though his wounds look ten times better than when he first acquired them, there's still a long way to go until his physical health is back to its' peak. A lot longer to go for his mental health as well, that you know for sure. You try not to stare too long as you take in the yellow healing bruises, the large burns on his chest and back from Akainu's attacks, and the scrapes and cuts from some kind of sea stone weapons. 

"Come on. Let's get undressed and take a bath together." You grin at him. He blushes a bright red but doesn't object. He sees you take off your clothes first and climb into the tub. "Hurry up and get in, Ace; you look like someone's dragged you through a puddle of mud." You motion for him to get in the bathtub in front of you. He sighs but follows your instructions. He quickly sheds his shorts and climbs in with you. 

The water is already steaming warm, but just having Ace in with you seems to make it feel even hotter. As you grab the washcloth and begin to suds it up, Ace relaxes and leans back against you. He's completely boneless against you. You begin to clean him up at a slow pace so he can enjoy the feeling of being taken care of. 

Starting with his face, then moving down to his neck and collarbones, and then continuing your trail down his body, cleaning off all the dirt and muck on him. As soon as you're done with his skin, you move onto his shaggy hair. Normally looking pretty greasy, you decide it's high time you clean it and get the knots out of it. 

You have to start at the bottom and work your way up. Slowly going through each piece of his hair and working out the tangles with your finger, you know you're going to have to brush it when you get out to totally get the job done." Always had such greasy hair before, Ace. Wonder what it's going to look like shampooed and conditioned." You tease him lightly as you continue to lather his hair up thoroughly. 

"Maybe if you shut up and kept working, we'd know quicker." He scoffs with a blush on his face. You can tell you embarrassed him there with your words. You continue your ministrations for a few more minutes until you know it's time to rinse it out. You grab the hand-held sprayer and hose him down, taking good care not to get any in his face. After he is rinsed, you begin the process all over again with the conditioner. 

"Don't get feisty with me, Ace. I'll drown you like a wet dog with this thing." You threaten as you motion to the sprayer. He rolls his eyes and makes no motion to react. After a few minutes lathering his hair up again, you rinse him one more time. "Alright, hot shot. Get up. Going to have you dry off, and then I'll bandage you back up. Where's the stuff Marco left?" You quiz him. 

"Should be on my dresser, near the door." He sighs and stands up and gets out to dry off. You quickly move out as well. Grabbing the towel and going out to grab the care package, while you're out there you grab him some underwear and soft sweatpants and borrow yourself some clothes as well. You quickly slip on the stolen clothes and make your way back to where he is waiting. He's leaning against the sink counter with a towel wrapped around his waist. You set Marco's supplies on said counter and quickly get to work applying burn cream and soothing ointments to the wounds that litter his skin. 

Ace makes no motions of pain or any indications at all that you're even there. He's staring straight ahead into the wall as you begin to wrap him up in the bandages. "Hey, partner?" He speaks up in a soft tone. "What if I want to try? What if I want to get better, to not waste their sacrifice?" He gulps; his voice is quieter than usual, like he's scared of your reaction. 

"Then I'll be right here to support you every step of the way, Ace. Simple as that." You tell him as you tie up the bandages that are wrapped around him. As soon as you're done and stand back up straight, you're wrapped in a strong hug and caught up in a kiss. The hug was something you'd come to expect from Ace, but the kiss was new. It was filled with love and passion as you began to kiss him back. 

He pulls back first, breathless. "Thank you." He whispers out against your lips. "For always standing by my side. I know I'm a lot to handle. Luffy got that after me. But you've never once doubted me. It's going to be a long road ahead to get fully better, but I want to travel it with your help." He sniffles, tears pricking his eyes again as he leans back in to place another chaste kiss against your lips. 

He's right; the road would be long to recover fully from the losses, the grief, and the guilt. However, there's no one better to walk through it with than with a partner by your side. Ace just lucked out and found the best partner in the world to help him. And you, well, you got him. The greatest partnership of all.

[planet-crait]

fun fact about operation birthday takeback: nickelodeon's s&p department actually asked showrunner lindsay katai if she would consider changing the ending, not because it actually violated any standards or practices, but because it made them feel too sad

I don’t know man I’m with the S&P department here this kid is going THROUGH IT and it is shattering my heart. Like I don’t know about you but seeing kids hurting hits a hell of a lot harder then when it’s adults. Even as someone who isn’t interested in having kids theirs just something fundamentally wrong about seeing adults beat down a child and get away with it.

He found out someone who he thought was his first real friend made a wish to befriend him (she is his real friend and wasn’t after his money but this is from Devs pov here) and is pretty sure it was just to get access to his fathers money, his dad cares more about Hazel then his own son and ruined his first real birthday that he thought he could really enjoy now that he had friends due to sheer laziness and not bothering to get to know Dev, and his godparent is only interested in shoving more stuff at him then trying to form any sort of real connection with him.

The animation department and VA absolutely nailed this final scene you can feel the agony Dev is in and the confusing clash of rage and pain festering inside of him. This is a very young child who has no tools or understanding of how to properly process and deal with these heavy emotions and has no one he feels he can turn to, to help him.

His teachers don’t care, his dad doesn’t care, he thinks his only friend doesn’t care (which again is wrong but he doesn’t think that and even if he thought they where friends Hazel is not even remotely equipped as a fellow ten year old to deal with this stuff she’s TEN), his godparent is more concerned with work then with Dev (notably very similar to his dad who is more concerned with work then Dev so their has got to be some triggering stuff mixed in with that).

When Dev called for help from Peri, Peri didn’t answer and Dev didn’t bother to try again because he realized that Peri wasn’t going to come and likely in his mind realized Peri didn’t care enough to come. This is a kid who has been taught he doesn’t matter, he’s not important enough for people to care and his beliefs and fears repeatedly get reinforced.

I think this is the first (and potentially only?) episode to end on a real sad note like this. The episode ends with Dev flying off audibly crying and there isn’t any sort of joke or punchline after it. Thats what we’re left with, a very young and abused child in tears after his birthday was ruined, destroying everything he thought he had with it.

[morisbasement]

oh and in celebration of the emerald wirch arc anime coming out next year, i have some tips for the new black butler fans!! or old if they apply to you lol

ALWAYS read the manga first.

the anime deviates so far from the manga that season 2 can't even be considered canon. im not even joking here. after the second half of s1, the animators just pulled shit out of their rears and called it a day. they didn't pull it together until book of circus, but to anyone who had watched the anime before reading the manga, the story made zero sense. i watched the series three times trying to understand it but it wasn't anything but crack until i read the manga.

if you can't buy the manga, read it on mangakakalot.com manganelo or mangareader.to, but PLEASE read it before watching.

sebaciel is (somewhat) canon, heavily implied at times, but so are lots of ships, so for the love of god please don't hate on shippers

yana toboso, the writer, has admitted that kuroshitsuji was originally intended to be a yaoi, but her publishers warned her against it. (← im told that's a rumor) there were still some sebaciel-esque scenes in the manga, so be warned! but there are also other implied ships (which is basically the entirety of s2), so suffice to say there are bound to be lots of ship wars. please don't turn the kuroshitsuji fandom into another mha fandom 😭

if you're sensitive to proship content, especially adult × child, STEER CLEAR of black butler.

while an argument may be made that it's not technically a proship since pedophilia isn't a crime in japan or since it's a human × nonhuman, therefore age gap rules aren't as cut and dry as they would be otherwise, sebastian is still portrayed as an adult and ngl it can be kind of triggering for victims of this kind of thing, and just icky in general if you don't know to expect it.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE pay heed to the content warnings, not the actual rating.

some streaming services say that kuroshitsuji is tv14. TRUST ME. it's not. here's a full list of content warnings:

severe violence

lots of sexual themes including rape, not once but TWICE (in the anime, only once in the manga) by sebastian, and pedophilia

intense gore

there is a character who is somewhat minorly important who is a lolicon (duke whatever his name was)

deals with themes including cults, rejection of the christian faith, demons, rituals, supernatural phenomena, and generally disturbing stuff. for crying out loud a TWELVE YEAR OLD kid has summoned a demon servant, is a major underworld crime god, and has survived some major cult shit.

language is pretty bad

cults

arson

murder

murder

murder

mafia/underworld crime/organized crime

organized extreme abuse/ritual abuse, mind control, organized abuse, etc. is a MAJOR theme. it's basically the precursor to the entire series and is heavily discussed and shown. please please please don't get into it if you're triggered by that, ESPECIALLY if you're a victim/potentially a victim and healing. nobody would want you to uncover memories or harm yourself because of the series. stay safe!!!

one of the character's main things is he's basically obsessed with stepcest (lao)

lao is also a drug dealer

oh yeah, drugs and drugs and drugs and drugs and–

arranged marriages for kids (ciel and lizzy)

the second season (say what you will about it but i enjoyed it) had a LOT of torture and mindbreak over some dumb shit and was generally really really disturbing, objectively more so than the first season. we're talking waterboarding (i think is what it's called? correct me NICELY if im wrong) and making the mc's relive their trauma to achieve a certain goal.

also the second season deals with twice as much pedophilia, arson, demons, and murder since the second mc (alois trancy) is basically ciel phantomhive but blonde and a lot gayer (olé!)

stalking

lots and lots of murder

it's a horror series, what do you expect

both explicit and implicit sex scenes aplenty

manipulation, mindbreak, and abuse

there's a whole jack the ripper arc and it is MESSY

it's bad at the start and only gets worse! please please please only get involved with kuroshitsuji if you can handle that!

both the manga and anime are ongoing, so don't treat it as a one and done!

yana paused production of the manga to work on a game called twisted wonderland (edit: and apparently to focus on bb too? dunno how that works) , but more chapters and arcs are expected, and the series is far from over despite starting over a decade ago! i reread and rewatch every now and then to stay updated (and because it's a great series)! while i realize that can be a bit of a task, trust me when i say it's worth it!!

lastly, have fun with it!!!

kuroshitsuji fandom has been dying. REVIVE IT!! engage with fan works! cosplay! talk to other fans! make friends! convert people to the dark side!! be down bad!! be weird, be cringe!!! do whatever as long as it isnt toxic!!!

[doublequaterpounder]

Hey yo potentially triggering discussion of EDs in conjunction with feedism

So yeah some posted an anonymous comment on one of my posts asking if feedism is just another form of ED and the answer is complex but short answer is NO

This kink while wonderful and i wouldn’t change it for anything has in the past had a negative impact on my EDs. when i was skinny i was in such a shame spiral with societal desires to be thin but also being really attracted to fatness and deep down wanting to be fat. this period of my life where i was really fit was real bad for my ED and my desire to be fat really affected that. in the long run letting myself get fat and enjoy myself and enjoy food has been a super healing process in recovery from my ED

but here comes the turn side of that. when i started trying to get fat on purpose i think with my previous disposition of body image i got another ED. i don’t think this form of ED has an offical title or even clinically offical but im convinced im not alone in this. when i first plumping up on purpose i became obsessed to an extent where it’d be considered disordered i was weighing myself multiple times a day and being disappointed the number wasn’t going up. i was eating as much as i could making myself super uncomfortable even chugging water so the number on the scale would move up and when i would wake up the next morning with the number being lower i would beat myself up over it a return to the cycle.

this is a super unhealthy way to approach this but cause i was so repressed with my feelings and restricting myself that when i decide to get fat and it wasn’t happening at the speed i wanted it too i got into patterns mirroring that of an ED, idk if this does have a name it’s different to a BED but just obsessive over every details of whatever makes the scale go up.

THIS DOESNT HAVE TO BE THE ONLY WAY TO GAIN WEIGHT OR ENGAGE IN FEEDISM

so for me when i first started in feedism with myself yeah it did amalgamate in the form of an ED but i learnt how to cope and exist in this kink in a healthy way for my lil brain but feedism is not an ED but i do think there needs to be more education and research into feedism induced EDs and there are other ways to gain than stuffing everyday and making yourself uncomfy and beating yourself up over scales and numbers.

currently i’ve been making sure i’ve been eating three (hearty) meals a day snacks making an effort to eat good but not going too overboard. i’ve gotten better about weighing myself and setting realistic expectations with gaining i still have a lil voice in the back of my head that’s disappointed when the number isn’t what i want but it’s a lot less loud

talking about weight gain and feedism outside of horny hours has been extremely healing as well. people don’t say gym goers have an ED but just like most things people can go overboard so there is a way to fatten yourself in good ways

sorry for the long one it’s a bit more serious and stuff but i hope this helps anyone who has struggled with this or is struggling currently and has decided gaining weight isn’t for them because of similar experiences i just wanna let yall know there are ways you can do it and there is another side and it’s pretty fat over here :)

[evil-tenna-the-tv]

HE'S GLOOBY! AND NEVER GROOVY!

So, I have finally forgotten the workings of modern day technology! (I still know what an "email" is, but pretend I don't.)

I won't introduce myself. Just kidding

I'm Evil Mr. "Ant" Tenna, or just Evil Tenna for short! I care about pronouns, but not enough to make up specific ones.

I know what else to put here, but I'm not going to. Farewell, Tumblr!

IT'S NOT TV TIME!

(ooc stuff under the cut)

GENERAL INFO!!!

I would put this on a queue, but I don't expect a lot of asks, so I won't. I have a lot of free time, so I will most likely answer asks immediately. Don't abuse this.

Some tags! All tags will be tagged with roleplay (if I remember). Unquiz show is for posts with polls (aka unquizzes in Evil Tenna language) and item loss is for any post that contains picking up (or... Losing items) items! I will definitely forget to tag so if you notice one of these posts without the right tag then lmk!!! All potentially triggering content will be tagged so, with tags like "x tw" and "tw x".

EVIL Mettatenna (divorce) is canon to this blog, but feel free to send EVIL Spamtenna or any other shipping asks! Just know that EVIL Tenna may not know what you're talking about.

Also uhh other roleplay blogs PLZ INTERACT WITH ME sorry if I don't make this a completely accurate EVIL Tenna I don't really read the original's posts

Feel free to send roleplay asks! I highly encourage it, actually.

Self shipping with EVIL Tenna is fine just know that he may reject you (I'm completely open to ships with Evil Tenna)

THE ORIGINAL BLOG THIS IS BASED OFF OF (sorry for ping)

@tenna-the-tv