#it's possible to not make it about the other guy and just have empathy for both of them and why they're like That

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[numberonetrashwitch]

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[shallowseeker]

I'm breaking this one out by itself because it's a little funny.

*Dean's phone rings*

*Dean answers without looking*

*Dean proceeds to yell at Cas*

Ah, right. What could possible be so important?

/////

Sam goes on to tell Dean that *drumroll* Sam is Lucifer's true vessel.

WOW! Scary!

DEAN: *sarcastically* Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh Sammy? SAM: That's it? That's your response?

It's... completely lost of Sam, though, the REASON for Dean's sarcasm.

See. It's this: now that Sam's found out that HE'S a vessel, he's in his car, an absolute FIRE lit under his goddamned tail, EAGER to get back in and fight.

Sam.

SAMMY.

🤦🤦🤦🤦

Dean throws a hint.

DEAN: *sarcastically again* I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point. SAM: Well what are we gonna do about it?

And Sam... still doesn't get it.

Sigh.

Here's the thing. Sam wasn't panicking when they learned that Dean was a vessel. Only Cas and Bobby were panicked and stressed. They were mean, but they were at least aware of the reality of things.

But Sam.

Yes, Sam was going through things, struggling with things, and taking time to go through things is okay. But on the other hand, it definitely still hurts that Sam wasn't insisting on staying in the fight on Dean's behalf, to protect Dean from becoming a vessel.

But now that Sam's learned that he's a vessel?

Boom.

It's not even that, though. It's this whole conversation.

Because what's missing here? Empathy for Dean's plight.

Sam doesn't realize that this is why he's perpetually at... the kids' table. This right here.

In this whole conversation, Sam is eaten up with ranting about his own feelings, about how he's sick of being a puppet, and how he's going to hunt Lucifer down and gain redemption.

Sam's all about "how he can do this," how he's "gonna prove it to you."

It makes him seem a lot younger than he is.

....

There's no acknowledgment of how helpless Dean must have been feeling all this time, knowing that he's been targeted by an archangel, about how scary this whole thing is.

Hell, even Cas acknowledged Dean's fears re: Michael.

I mean: He did it in his Cas way, but it still acknowledged the enormity of the fear.

Cas:

///

Meanwhile, Sam back in 5x01, right after DEAN learned about being Michael's vessel: Geez, why is everyone so cranky and stressed?

🥺Dean, what do you mean that you didn't mean your pep talk to Bobby? Whaaaat? 🥺

///

....

And the thing is. Not "getting it"? That's understandable. But this conversation is just... devoid of support for Dean.

And they're not. Sam's zapping all the strength for himself.

When they've been together lately, Dean is the big brother who lends support, and Sam isn't giving anything back. Sam's out to prove himself, not to support others.

And they tell older siblings and parents to be patient, to let them learn, to step back and forgive, to be "a soft place to land."

That's hard to do. And it's exhausting.

And aside// Sam's apology to (demon) Bobby was SO MUCH NICER. Sam, where is this humility and energy for other people????

SAM: No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry. Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free. You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on. I'm sorry.

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

So, here's the thing. It's not just about control or appearances, about Blitz being a lying liar who lies about being a top.

Let's do an experiment for a moment. You are Blitz. You have just been through two really shitty days.

Your situationship / friends with benefits just dumped a crap ton of emotional shit on you, didn't give you even a second to process any of it, and then broke up with you when you didn't react the way he thought you should. Then proceeded to stonewall you when you try to talk the next day, go to a party that is explicitly and blatantly a bully party thrown by a bunch of people who hate you, enjoy himself at this party, and finally hook up with another guy.

A guy who hates you.

You have been told in no uncertain terms by two or more people that you are a piece of shit, told to give up on and let go of your ex situationship even though you think you might have feelings for him, and offered no support, compassion, or empathy whatsoever.

Being Blitz, you've never reached out for it because you don't think you deserve it. You feel you fully deserve everything that has ever happened to you for the past two days, because none of those people at that party could possibly hate you more than you hate yourself.

Your confidence is shattered. The one thing you have always been very good at besides killing people, which is fucking, has been mocked, degraded, and rejected.

The one way you know how to connect to people, show your love and affection for people, and prove your worth to people has been rejected by the person who ostensibly used to adore it.

Add to this that you are constantly exposed to two people who have the one thing you want more than anything, but don't think you deserve or should have. You are bitterly, viciously jealous of them and their love for each other, wanting to share in it but knowing it's not for you and that you don't deserve something like that anyway. You are drowning, floundering, and struggling, and you don't know where to turn or what to do.

Your opinion of yourself has rarely been lower. And so you try to bury yourself and work. You do your jobs, you try to pretend to be normal, you move on with your life and try to just exist as per usual as if none of this shit has happened.

And then on one job, quite possibly here first after the worst two nights in a while, you find yourself and your team in a life-threatening situation. You are unable to defend or protect them, and then your only way out, which has thus far cooperated flawlessly with you, stops working. And there is nothing you can do to make it work again.

As they watch, judging you, you flounder, fight, and struggle with it, having to admit that you don't really know what you're doing. And you can feel them. Watching. Judging. Wondering how you fucked this up.

Wondering how you're so God damn incompetent.

Wondering how you keep getting the most simple shit wrong.

So you get stressed and anxious. But of course, means that you fuck up even harder and it works even less well.

You start making simple mistakes at basic things like the alphabet, which is difficult anyway because reading and language is difficult for you. You can feel the judgment from them for that, too.

Why are you so stupid?

How was this hard?

And the questions start bouncing around in YOUR head, too.

Why are you locking up?

Why isn't this working?

This is not hard. This shouldn't be hard.

So why can't you do it?

Why can't you just be smarter?

Be more gentle?

Be stronger?

Be kinder?

Why can't you just do better?

Are you ever, ever, enough?

No wonder your father hated you. You're just a giant screw up.

Anytime it matters, you can't pull it off.

You've experianced this before, time and again.

And now, you're in the situation once more. Yet again, with eyes on you and people waiting for you to do the right thing to get results, you can't.

And then, as has always been in your life, someone who was better than you get tired of your floundering, steps in, and gets it done effortlessly.

Yeah, seeing something familiar here?

A common thread between Cash, and Blitz's life in the circus, and what just happened in Antarctica?

I don't know what's worse.

That Blitz was very likely full on triggered in the scene, having a panic attack on top of the emotional distress he was already in from what happened with Stolas, or that Moxxie and Millie didn't notice.

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[bitchy-craft]

What They Find Attractive About You | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out what your person finds attractive about you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people: therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

They find your eyes attractive because of the kindness that’s behind them, the mysteries that are behind them and that calculative look that is behind them. They love how you can share things or weigh certain options against one another to see which decision will have the best outcome. They love how you can be confident when voicing your opinion but are still able to be humble throughout.

They find the fact that you are a strong person attractive. And they love to see you grow in your confidence and knowledge; they love to see you successful and be independent. They adore you and find you such a powerful person. They find your persistency attractive; they love when you want to figure something out and understand something you chase that answer until you find it, you chase that explanation until you find it.

Pile 2:

They find your creativity attractive about you. They love how you are able to think of new and fun ideas and are really excited about them; they sometimes compare your excitement to being childish, but that’s what they like to see from time to time since you also have a serious side to you where you show your intellect and passion. Just you enjoying yourself and feeling happy they enjoy, they love to see you happy and love knowing that you feel confident enough to show these sides of your personality to them.

You might be a bit chaotic, and often times that may not come in handy, but they find it extremely charming to see you like that. Sometimes you may want to do things you deem not possible, but they are there to support your odd and creative ideas. And when you do have ideas you believe are possible, you’ll think them through a lot, they love your eye for detail and the mix between creativity and realistic thinking.

Pile 3:

They love how much you care about so many things, that you find the littlest of things amazing, that you appreciate every, little gift or thing that comes in your life. They love how much empathy you possess, although they do understand that it brings it’s negative effects from time to time.

You are punctual and know what you need to do to succeed or get to your goal. You have a certain precision you make happen with kindness, something they look up to. They love how you are humble and kind but are still able to give yourself a loud voice to get what you want and convince other people your opinion is a great one and does indeed matter. They also find it incredibly attractive to see how you can be passionate about something, yet still watch from the side-lines or walk away from it entirely when you realise it might not be something for you, or something you should mix yourself with. You can sense when your opinion is needed in a situation, and you can sense when it’s best to simply watch or leave it alone.

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking (let me know if there's more that needs to be added), Possessiveness

Word Count: 0.7k

Summary: You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why? 

You had a crush on him forever, but decided to make it dormant since he’s in a relationship…  but his head was elsewhere even after he got with Sidney. His heart wasn’t in it and you can tell. He was void with any empathy with her and lacked the emotion in his friend group, but when he is around you his true self would show, which sent you mixed signals, often making you question yourself. He was toying with you and he knows it, but he can't help himself, he has to have you one way or another, but not just yet...

On the other hand, there’s Stuart ‘Stu’ Macher, another taken guy. You met him during your first year of high school when Billy went through a stage of not talking to you. Stu was quick to befriend you during your time of strife and he never failed to miss an opportunity to flirt with you or grab at you, even in front of his girlfriend, Tatum. You took it as a sign he was playing around, but what if he wasn’t? What if he couldn’t have you just yet, either?

Both seem interested in you and both have been obsessing over you in their own ways, but they can’t let the thought of having you get in the way of their plan… Neither of them know about one another’s fixation with you… 

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 1

Your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing away at your English Assignment that was due the next day. 

You sighed, hearing a loud crackling sound outside.

…A storm…

Lightning flashed, filtering the already darkened-sky as you pushed away from your desk. Wandering across your room, you opened your window. Pellets of rain hit against the chipped-frame, splashing up your arm as you leaned outside. 

“God, what a sight.” You smiled, fluttering your eyes. 

Storms always make you happy, especially during times of stress.

You loved how the sky would light up in different shades of white, yellow, and even purple when the lightning strikes. How the rain sounded when it hit the pavement, windowsill, or cars. The way the wind caused the trees to dance and how it whistled and tousled your hair. It was pure bliss. 

You closed your eyes, the smile still on your lips, droplets of water began to run down your face, and your hair was beginning to damp. 

“Oh, how I wish I could be reading The Shining right now.” You chuckled, “Too bad the school has other plans..” You whispered, blinking your eyes open.

You turned around to head back to your computer to finish your assignment, though, something or somebody had grabbed your arm. 

You screamed, jumping back. Only to laugh at the realization of who it was.

“Billy! What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-shouted, stifling a laugh, “You nearly gave me a heart attack…” You trailed, running a hand through your wet-(h/c) locks. 

A look of amusement fell on Billy’s face, “I’m sorry, (Y/n).. I couldn’t help but make my way over--” “Through the window?” You spoke, quirking a brow, folding your arms over one another, cutting your friend off. 

He rolled his eyes, “Of course.. What better way to scare my best friend?” 

You stuck out your tongue, letting your arms fall to the side. 

“Alright, loser, what do you want, really? Because I know it wasn’t just to scare me..” 

Billy was baffled, how could you possibly know he came here to talk to you about something? Was he that obvious?

“You’re obvious, Bil.. What is it?” You pouted, jumping onto your bed, patting the spot next to you for him to sit down.

Billy groaned, “How do you do that?” He muttered, sitting next to you. 

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“How do you know when something is wrong?” 

“Look, man, I’ve known you for how long?” 

“Since we were in diapers..” He rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. 

“There’s your answer.” You giggled, “It’s Sidney, isn’t it?” You frowned, staring at him with big-doe eyes.

“Yeah..” He looked down, fiddling with his thumbs, “We used to be so hot and heavy, now it’s like I’m in a PG-13 movie, I can’t stand it.” 

Your heart ached, not because of how he was feeling, but because you’ve had the biggest crush on him since the first year of highschool. You never understood why he went for Sidney, she is the complete opposite of him and is such a prude. It hurt hearing about their relationship…

“Ah, I see… Relationship problems… Lucky me…” You scoffed, Billy only chuckled, playfully punching you in the arm. 

“Oh, C’mon.. You’re usually good at the whole… you know, advice stuff..” Billy spoke, getting up from the bed. 

You licked your lips, averting your gaze elsewhere, not wanting to continue the conversation, “Look, Billy.. I really don’t know what to say that will help you, you’re talking to the wrong person, have you asked Stu?” You mumbled, and he shook his head. 

“Oh..” Was all you could mutter, “I’m sorry, Bil, I wish I could help, but you should really get going. I have homework to finish.” You forced a smile, shoving him back towards the window, “And you really need to go..” 

“(Y/n)?” Billy asked, noticing the change of demeanor. “Everything okay?” 

You grinned, void of any emotion. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. My assignment is due tomorrow and it’s really kicking my ass…” You lied, well, not really. It truly was kicking your ass, but that wasn’t the reason your mood suddenly changed, it was the jealousy you felt. 

“Oh, okay.” Billy laughed, nervously. “I guess I should have called first, I didn’t know you were busy..” He looked at you, studying your posture; trying to see if it was really what you said that was bothering you, but you were stoic, stiff like a cardboard box. You were hard to read. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

You nodded as he climbed out your window.

“Goodbye, Loomis…” 

Next->

[suzukiblu]

If you are still taking requests I would love some Jason Todd!

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. Like it's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking <i>besotted</i> Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.

[tai-janai]

ok so apparently all the voices have a little ability ? of some sort that comes from different forms of trauma responses and the sake of safety so im going to list what i think they are. im open to discussion

tldr: they all are their own form of trauma response

with the obvious:

The Voice of the Paranoid with reign over the system. It goes with the fact that someone with anxiety has more stress responses than the average person, he knows how to keep the heart from exploding. His response is pretty clear, the nightmare is very clearly traumatizing. His focus works on survival from the inside.

The Voice of the Hunted has his animalistic instinct and heightened senses. I stand by the fact that he could hold his own better than any other voice in a battle to the death. Though he may not outsmart an enemy, his focus works to keep the system safe.

The Voice of the Hero is, in a way, inconsistent. I think his ability has to do with adaptability. I also have this minor headcanon that he isn't quite the same as the other voices, since he's always kind of there. He can reach the Quiet even when others cannot. His interactions with and reactions to the princess depend on the player more than any other thing. His focus is less of a Hero, and more of an ally.

The Voice of the Broken is fear in a way Paranoid is not. His fear makes him small, but more powerful. In the instance of "Fight or Flight," his response is "Fawn," as in he will use his power to give in to the fear. His will and fear are very powerful compared to the others, being able to control the Quiet's actions without much effort. In a way, his focus is making himself powerless.

The Voice of the Cold is pretty infamous for being as unfeeling as possible. I believe this is not just his little emo persona, I think his focus has shifted in a way that he has become unfeeling (usually as a result of turning off after being stuck in Nothing for "eternity"). His focus is a straightforward lack of empathy as a response to the trauma of nothingness and murder.

The Voice of the Opportunist is like the Hero with adaptability, but that is not his focus. He works with self-interest in mind. He is focused on self-improvement, with the self becoming the best and most powerful. When others backstab, and when you, yourself are a backstabber, it is often that one learns from this to get a vantage point. He is very clever to the best situation and outcome, not caring how he gets there. His focus is the self's best interest.

The Voice of the Stubborn is a very angry little guy. Fight or Flight, his choice is pretty obvious. In the route of the Adversary, of which he is the foil, his response is to become the enemy. He has to fight her, until it becomes a game where "nobody can get hurt." He, like Paranoid, can keep the body from stopping. Remind you of anyone named Frisk Undertale? His focus comes down to denial and determination. He won't let himself be the victim.

The Voice of the Skeptic is, of course, constantly questioning. Once bitten, twice shy, as we all know. The lies , this time from the Narrator, are definitely stress-inducing, and coming from someone that preaches trust, it is not so easy to replenish the guy's trust in anything. His views can venture beyond what is available; he is the first to think outside of the box. It comes down to the focus of self-preservation, the opposition to the Opportunist's focus of self-interest.

The Voice of the Contrarian is similar, but it can be argued that he isn't exactly a trauma response. He is just a reaction to the self. There is a disorder (i cant remember the name) where its just constant denial and contradiction, and that feels more like him than anything. But we all know Conty. It's very clear his focus is Brewing Chaos. His affect can literally alter reality as the reality is being perceived.

The Voice of the Smitten is ... a little bit sad. I'm sure we all know about stockholm syndrome, but in a lot of instances, Smitten will trauma bond with the princess. It's as if she can do no wrong, right? even when she kills you? Multiple times? And will again? ? ? The sheer denial and willingness to be hurt is, yes, another trauma response, wanting the person you love to be perfect, and hoping that they are. His focus is effort; trying his best to love and be loved. Often in vain. It is arguable that his affect effects reality more than any other Voice.

Last but not least, The Voice of the Cheated. Thought of as weak, but could have been more if he was "treated fairly." Anyone who feels as though they have been treated unfairly in the past knows the desire to have things be fair. In the route of the Razor, he also has an incredible resolve and determination. His stubbornness comes from a need to "settle the score." He can unify, and eventually "empty the cup," as in letting go of his vengeance. All of the voices do not bother him. If anything, he is glad that everyone can have their effect, and he hopes his efforts will be enough. His focus is equality, and unity.

[weepingchronicles]

platonic yandere strade headcanons tw/cw: strade being a whole warning himself, yandere behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, drugging, torture, slight gore, dead, reader is fucked up too!! animal death mention, cussing a/n: this may be ooc since i dont even know if it would be possible for strade to feel love at all especially platonic but lolz

Okay so I wanted to make this sort of believable for Strade which is hard since he never shows remorse or care for anything. Treating Ren as a pet is the closet we ever seen him care for someone other than himself. From what I know is that he's always been like this since he was born. It didn't stem from trauma or anything like that.. so I got the idea, what if its genetic?

I don't think Strade kills everyone he fucks, definitely hurts them but maybe a long time ago he was drunk and had a one night stand and accidentally let the girl get away.

Then years later, imagine Strade finding out he actually has a kid? To be honest, he probably wouldn't even care, maybe a little curious but wants nothing more to do with you besides knowing your name.

But when he finds out you're just like him? Dude is ecstatic!

You're definitely not as sadistic as him and have higher empathy but I imagine you learned you liked the feeling of hurting people from an early age.. liking the feeling of control. You started small, killing random rodents or prodding at dead animals you came across with morbid curiosity.

Your mother was actually good and sent you to the psychologist which helped diagnosed you. You learned that your behavior was not regular and learned methods to deal with your urges.

You don't hurt people, you might have a tiny criminal record from the time you got into a bar fight or stole a couple things but that's it.

For Strade, it doesn't matter. He gets the closest thing to familial love when it comes to you. To know that his own blood is like him creates an urge to hone that desire within you.

He quickly "reunites" with your mother and uses her to help track you down.

You had just finished your late night shift at your workplace when you notice a man smoking a cigar staring at you, leaning against his car.

You pay no mind, heading to your car. This has happened before and it always ended with them regretting walking up to you.

Right as you open the car door it is slammed shut again, this time the man smoking is right in front of you.

He has an over-charismatic smirk that you know too well, because you have it as well.

He ends up drugging and taking you back to his place, with his victims he didn't care if they got hurt, but he doesn't get that urge with you.

You wake up tied to a chair in a basement littered with utility tools, you were groggy but overall fine. What most stood out to you wasn't the coppery smell in the air or the fact you just got kidnapped but there was a girl very close to you tied up to a pole.

She is bloody and bruised, you notice an overwhelming amount of blood staining her thigh. Shame floods your mind, guilty because her blood excited you.

"Pretty sight, eh?"

You were too absorbed in your thoughts to notice the man that had kidnapped you appeared right beside you, a wide smirk on his face as he peered down at the girl.

Although he enjoyed the frightened expression and confusion on your face, he explained to you that he was your father. It made sense, you had never known your father since you were born and your mother refused to talk about him, you never knew why. Your dad being a sadistic killer seems like a pretty good reason in hindsight.

What made you angry was the fact that Strade insisted that you were the same as him. The same? You're no killer and definitely don't kidnap people just to torture them. You've learned your problems and worked through it.

That's what you tell him but Strade chuckles, petting his unconscious victims hair as he talks with you. This guy is fucking weird.

"That's what you think, but I know you and I are the same. It's a shame, you never got to experience your true desires.. until now."

You perked up at what he meant but as he untied you, you understood.

He places a knife in your hand and wakes up his victim whose already half-dead by kicking her wound.

The girl wakes up, disoriented and in pain. But now there's two people in front of her, her kidnapper and someone with a knife.

You could end this all now, stab your father bloody and get out of here- go back to your ordinary life.

"Go on, sweetheart. I know you want to hurt them as badly as I, hear them scream."

You tug the knife harder, your face riddled with concentration and debate. The girl's pleas fall deaf on your ears, the feeling of Strade comfortingly rubbing your shoulder is what makes you take the first step, then the first stab.

You blink and suddenly return to a gory mess. Whatever happened, whatever you did, it went by like a dazy dream. You return to your senses, Strade is laughing maniacally behind you and you drop the knife. You still hear the girl's last wheezes before her heart finally stops beating. You killed her, you try to justify it. Maybe it was good, you ended her pain but you could have turned the knife onto Strade yet you didn't.

Your breathing is heavy and your heart thumps for the wrong reasons- excitement.

You almost forgot Strade is still there until he comes near you and ruffles your hair- like he was congratulating his kid on their first victory score.

"'Knew you had it in you, you're going to be the perfect protégé for me."

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ❛ 𝓐 𝓟𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝓞𝐅 𝓐𝐑𝐓. ❜

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ bio prof!miguel 𝓍 art prof!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the university hired a new art professor. she is the talk of the town, capturing everyone’s attention, especially the handsome biology professor.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. college!au, coworkers to lovers, pure fluff, sorta slow-burn, some swearing, miguel is smitten af

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. there aren’t many professor!miguel x professor!reader fics out there so i decided to write one. ♡

after a long yet dreadful lecture, his morning class was his least favorite and includes some of his least favorite students, it was finally break time. stirring his freshly made coffee with a spoon, miguel takes a sip. a low hum of approval escapes him, pleased with the taste of the sugar and cream within the coffee. he remains standing by the counter, avoiding the other professors in the lounge. it’s not that he doesn’t necessarily likes his colleagues, well there were a few that were a pain in the ass, he’s just not a big social guy. in full honesty, he is only friends with two colleagues. other than that, no one else.

he lives on his own, making bank as a biology professor and occasionally boxes. hardly goes out because that isn’t his thing and sees no point of doing so. plus the amount of lab reports and projects he grades always keeps him occupied. boxing at the local boxing place that’s a few blocks away from his apartment building is the only time he has for himself. just a simple man living his life.

although, his love life says a different story. miguel can’t even recall the last time he engaged with a woman. maybe months? or possibly a year? in conclusion, it’s been a hot minute. it’s not that he’s desperate. his job has been kicking his ass, always keeping him busy that he doesn’t have time to date.

while thinking about the upcoming project he has planned, a slightly aggressive pat on the shoulder snaps him out of his thinking.

“so, how was the morning class?” peter, a physics professor and one of the two friends/colleagues, asked with a sly smirk on his face.

miguel lets out an annoyed grunt, rolling his eyes. “you know the answer to that, parker.” he takes another sip of his coffee.

“aw come on. is it really that bad? or maybe you’re just a shitty professor and are the reason why you have least favorite students.” peter jokes.

the tall brooding man shoots him a glare, earning a chuckle from his colleague.

peter raise his hands in the air as a sign of defense. “relax, miguel. try living up for once.” he lets out another chuckle at the end.

before he could answer back, the sounds of gasps and excitement comes from the entrance of the lounge room. miguel turn his head in that direction to find several colleagues huddled around something. his brows furrowed in confusion when he can’t see whatever is attracting attention. just as one person moves to the side, the center of attention is revealed.

a woman dressed in a cozy outfit with little white heels, hair flowing down freely. you greet the staff members with a gentle smile, appreciating their kind greetings and welcomes. of course as your first day, you’re a bit nervous but the kindness and empathy from others calms you a little. maybe it’ll be okay.

the way miguel’s eyes dilated drastically at the sight of you. his lips partially opened in pure astonishment. wow he discovered the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. can beauty even describe you the best? the way your lips curl up into a smile just warms his heart, or practically his entire soul. he doesn’t even know you yet he’s completely mesmerized.

“oh yeah, that’s the new art professor. [y/n] [l/n]. heard she’s very nice.” peter said before taking a sip of his coffee, making miguel snap out of trance.

what a beautiful name, truly compliments with your angelic face. and an art professor? it suits you, based off on your appearance. miguel is utterly captivated, enthralled by you. wow — he has never felt like this about a woman before and that surprises him. sure, he had his share in the past but this was different. you are like the rare, hidden flower in the garden that hasn’t been picked yet but too fragile to be picked at all. you are the sun that shines vibrantly after a thunderstorm, providing such warmth and light.

you are a piece of art.

suddenly, the immense desire to reach out to you consumes miguel entirely. he yearns to speak with you, to know about you. although, considering it’s been a long time since he had done that sorta thing, he feels a bit anxious to do so.

nevertheless, you captured his attention.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

that opportunity came quick when he caught you in the teacher’s lounge again one day. surprisingly, you both take your lunch break at the same time. while engaging in a conversation with his other friend and fellow colleague jessica, a political science professor, his eyes lit up slighty as you entered the room. whatever jessica was babbling about was completely blocked out in his ears, his eyes solely fixated on you. miguel’s brows furrowed a little as he watched you pick an empty table near the back corner. deep in his heart, he wanted you to sit with him so you wouldn’t be alone. his expression didn’t go unnoticed by jessica, causing her to raise a brow at him. turning around to see what got his attention, the invisible light bulb on top of her head turned on.

“you should ask if she wants to join us.” she suggests, turning back and continues eating her pasta without making eye contact with him.

his eyes snap back at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “what?”

the woman rolled her eyes in annoyance. she isn’t blind, she knew of miguel’s little crush on you ever since she caught him staring at you one day in the hallways. “just go over and ask, you dumbo.”

miguel shoots her a deadpanned look. yeah, if only it were so easy, he thought. why is he so hesitant, anxious to ask a person a simple question? however, you weren’t just a regular person to him, were you?

before he could answer back, his eyes turns to you as you walked past his table and head over to the counter. miguel slightly turns to the observer you. he definitely didn’t expect you to walk past him, which surprised him wholeheartedly. what he didn’t see though is the smirk on jessica’s face.

using the microwave, you placed the small container of teriyaki chicken and white rice inside. after warming it up for a minute, you take it out and stir it with a fork to balance out the temperature so one side isn’t hotter than the other.

just as you’re walking back to your table, jessica kicks miguel’s leg under the table as a sign for him to ask you the damn question. he quickly shoots her a glare, which she returns one as well. knowing how stubborn he is, jessica decides to do it for him.

“hey, you’re [y/n], right? the new art professor?” she asked with a gentle smile.

you stop in your tracks, right in front of their table. “oh yes!” you chirped, returning the smile.

what a heavenly voice, miguel thought. it smooths his ears gracefully. it would definitely ease his workaholic mind in an instant.

“nice to meet you, [y/n]. i’m jessica but you can call me jess. this is miguel.” she gestured at the broad man sitting across from her.

you turn and flash him a kind smile.

his heart fluttered and cheeks flushed at the sight of your gorgeous smile. he is such a bashful mess. you’re even more beautiful up close.

“you would like to sit with us? we know you’re new here and thought you could use some friends.” jessica elaborated, really emphasizing on the ‘we’ which earned her a glare from miguel.

your eyes lit up at the suggestion, smiling. “oh sure! how nice of you guys! lemme just go grab my stuff real quick.” you said before walking away, heading back to the table to gather your belongings.

jessica turns to face miguel. “you’re welcome.” she said flatly before taking a bite of her pasta.

miguel rolled his eyes in annoyance, upset that jessica did the simple task he was supposed to do and yet — he couldn’t. damn his anxiety. although, he is pleased that you agreed sit with them. maybe now he’ll get the chance to get to know you. he should probably thank jessica afterwords.

you return with your tote bag and sat down in the free seat between miguel and jessica. his eyes followed your every movement, secretly admiring you. he can’t help the feeling of his heart beating faster now that you’re right there, in front of him in all of your glory. as you babbled about yourself, miguel was attentive to every word, learning all the things about you. he could listen to you all the time, your angelic voice soothes him. his heart warmed at the sight whenever you smiled while talking about your hobbies and things you’re passionate about.

he admired the beautiful artwork in front of him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

things got more intriguing when you stumbled upon his classroom one day. he was in the middle of grading lab reports when he heard heels clicking and a knock of the door. turning his head in that direction, miguel found you standing in the doorway with a smile that graced your gorgeous lips.

“hey, sorry for bothering you.” you said sweetly.

“you’re never a bother.” he replied quickly, offering a small smile in return. miguel truly meant that; you were never a bother. he’d stop whatever he’s doing and put all of his attention on you.

“i accidentally brought too much pasta and i don’t wanna waste it. plus, i assume you haven’t eaten since you weren’t at the lounge today. do you want the rest?” you asked with a soft smile, holding up the small plastic container in your hand.

god miguel fell even harder for you than he already did in the beginning. what a kindhearted and caring soul. he didn’t even realized that he hasn’t eaten or brought anything yet you remembered and were kind enough to offer your leftover pasta.

“that’s kind of you. are you sure?” miguel asked.

you softly smiled at him. “of course. can’t leave with an empty stomach, need the energy.” you walk over to his desk and hand over the container of pasta.

his heart fluttered when you approached, faint stains of pink on his cheeks. his eyes land on the container, gingerly taking it from your grasp. his fingers lightly brushed against yours, feeling your soft skin which made his heart jump in anticipation.

“thank you.” he mirrors your smile, reflecting the kindness you offered to him.

you simply smile with a nod before walking out of his classroom, leaving him smitten to the core.

that was beginning of your bond.

the next encounter was during your lunch break, which both of your breaks happen to be at the same time, miguel caught you sitting by yourself in the lounge peacefully eating while writing something in a planner of sorts. he build the courage and took the chance to approach you. his heart fluttered the moment your eyes perked up when you saw him, that beautiful smile on your glossy lips. you immediately said yes for him to sit with you which made miguel happy.

“writing down something important?” he asks softly, pointing at your planner.

you nod happily with a hum. “just writing down things i need to do for the week. i really like planners, they’re such a great tool. plus, i’m a very organized person so i like to write out schedules and stuff.”

wow just by how you explained in such a simple gentle way yet hints of passion in your tone is so captivating to him. miguel admires that trait of yours, organization is an important skill for maintaining your lifestyle. he values that skill as well but probably not as well and neat like you. he continues to be enthralled by you.

“i’m organized also. well, i try to be but all the grading and assignments have been—“

“time consuming.” you finish his sentence with that iconic soft smile that always warms his heart.

miguel stares at you astonishingly for a moment but ultimately smiles back. you truly understand the difficulties of balancing work and personal affairs as a professor yourself. honestly, any worker would understand. jobs are undoubtedly time consuming but never forget to focus on your personal life.

you two share a moment of pleasant silence, a mutual understanding while smiling at each other.

“so what inspired you to purse a passion for art?” miguel was very curious to know how you developed such a passion with art. even though science is his main route, he likes learning about other subjects especially those he isn’t fully familiar with. art is one of them and miguel would love to know from you.

he didn’t miss the way your smile grew bigger at the question. “since i was a child, i drew a lot. my parents told me i had a gift, how creative i was in my drawings even at a young age. in school, whenever i was bored or done with an assignment, i would doodle in my notes and people would compliment on my drawings. as i grew, my skills improved then i realized that what i wanted to do in my life.”

miguel was attentive to every word and was still amazed by you. he could imagine the amount of pages with your little drawings inside. they would be in the corners if they were small, on the center if they were big. he noticed you wear floral print commonly so miguel assumed most drawings were flowers.

you are a flower; a very elegant one.

“wow that’s amazing, truly inspiring and admirable. i don’t doubt your talent, your work must be incredible.” miguel said sincerely with a smile.

a bashful smile creeps onto your lips, very faint hints of blush on your cheeks. “you’re too kind, thank you. i want to reflect my passion onto my students, inspiring them to develop a passion of their own. to show how admirable yet alluring art can be.“

how passionate you are with your work captivates him in so many ways. how brightly you smile, the softness in your tone, your gorgeous eyes lighting up with each phrase. he adores it so much.

it’s like miguel is looking at a piece of art right in front of him.

a piece of artwork he deeply admires.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

one day, you took miguel to an art museum since he revealed he has never visited one before. he was captivated by every piece. a smile formed on your face when you watched him stare in awe at an oil painting of still-life flowers. those brown irises tracing each detail of the beautiful painting. the texture, emphasis, contrast, and value. the vibrant colors and how beautifully blended they are. you explained to miguel the principles of art and elements of design, providing a little art lesson. you could tell he was truly fascinated by it all.

you head over to the sculpture section to look at iconic greek, egyptian and roman sculptures. you glance at a greek sculpture, admiring its beauty. you elaborate on the significance of nudity in ancient greek art, the male form as the true peak human form. miguel was truly astonished by that information but mainly with your knowledge.

“you would be a perfect greek sculpture.” you whispered, leaning a bit towards him.

he looks at you with a little smirk, amused by your comment. “really?”

you nod with a smile, titling your head a bit. “greek sculptors would’ve adored, admired your form. they would probably say you are the perfect form.”

that smirk turned into a smile, mirroring yours. “would probably take ages to sculpt me.” a low chuckle escaped his plump lips, making you chuckle as well which warmed his heart.

“maybe but it would be worth it.” you softly smile.

after your little art adventure, it was miguel’s turn to share his passion. he brought you to his classroom to demonstrate a lab his students recently did. you sat and observed his work, admiring how passionate and concentrating he is. it was clear miguel wanted to impress you, and in fact he did which he was proud of. biology is an incredible topic, how extraordinary living organisms truly are.

“it’s so extraordinary.” you commented while looking at cells through a microscope.

“it is, huh?” miguel quirks an eyebrow with arms folded over his chest, a smile gracing his lips as he watches you from the side.

you nod as you look up from the microscope, mirroring his smile. “yes, biology or science in general is just extraordinarily fascinating.”

he can’t help but smile more at your comment, how sweetly you talk about his passion as if it’s yours as well. miguel was seriously head over heels for you.

“so is art.” he said softly, smiling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

onwards, you two would hangout together in the teachers lounge or in each other’s classrooms during whenever you two weren’t teaching. you got to know one another. each others hobbies, families, friends, movies and shows you enjoy. surprisingly, you have a few things in common, especially in movies. both of you are suckers for sci-fi and thriller films. when you mentioned your favorite movie was terminator, oh miguel started babbling like crazy and conversing with you how fantastic of a movie it is. you two were really engaged in that conversation. miguel was more fond of you than ever, pleased to know you two share common interests. you could say the same as well. you enjoyed spending time with him, discussing topics you both enjoyed. you grew fond of him too.

as time went, you two continued hangout even outside of working hours. you’d spend time at cafés, restaurants, or at each other’s homes. it was a beautiful bond, such a deep connection you two possessed. you continued learning new things about each other during these cute outings. miguel never felt so alive and human. it was refreshing to be not cooped up in his apartment, grading assignments during unholy hours. free from torment, a prison. hanging out with you, he felt happy and comfortable. talking to someone who radiates kindness, who views him not as a coworker but as a person. miguel never felt so vulnerable valued by anyone. that made him realize he was falling in love with you.

after much time of those special bonding days, your true feelings were finally revealed. during one night in miguel’s apartment while watching a movie and sipping coffee, he confessed his feelings. when he did, he was anxious for your reaction. negative thoughts plagued his mind. what if you didn’t feel the same? what if you only view him as a friend and nothing more? luckily, those thoughts were proven wrong when you confessed the same feelings too. miguel had never felt so happy in his life.

that was the moment you shared your first kiss.

and from that moment onwards, you and miguel spent the rest of your lives together in pure happiness and everlasting love.

two souls together in a beautiful painting.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @x0tw0d57 @nakedcrackers @peachipeachy @arlovesper @loves0phelia @eatalyy @kawaii-angelanne @migoharawife @corpsebridenightamare

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[kelvintimeline]

I'm actually, uh, kind of concerned for the lack of empathy people have when sharing news via meme. The "officer down" stuff or using the destiel meme format being used during the election all was kosher because the news was, in fact, meant to make you laugh. Whether it was made to punch up at cops or the queen or just celebrate how fucking crazy a cultural moment was, those formats were used to response to and to create levity.

These formats were not made to spread tangible information. Part of what made them so good is that they cannot provide proper context, so you just get a burst of SURPRISE and then you're left wondering wait HUH?? Just a burst of elation.

So, to be clear, these memes are used to in some way make fun of how ridiculous the moment is or demonstrate how little we care about the person/thing being reported on.

These formats are NOT meant to spread awareness of things like Neil Gaiman sexual assaulting (at least) five women. Or about fucking genocide.

And I am deeply concerned that people don't realize that?

Because, again, to put it simply for people who are really struggling with this BASIC form of consideration for other human beings, a. this meme is TO MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH which is not appropriate for serious topics and b. this meme is to spread as little information as possible, turning the news into a sort of surprise gut punch or almost a funny jump scare.

News that requires context and empathy, or at least feigned consideration, cannot be shared via meme.

"TRUMP GOT SHOT!" meme. funny gut punch--we hate that guy, we don't really need more information but anyone that wants to... will easily find it. It's an extremely disrespectful to break the news. That's the point.

The memes are reblog-bait, not respectful, not informational. Why does this need to be said?

"Oh but people wouldn't get the news otherwise." This isn't true but even if it were true... they aren't getting the news with fucking memes either?? It's like skimming a headline. It's like a stranger walking past you and shouting a skimmed headline and just saying "Trust me, I know my shit." It's net negative information, even when it's technically correct. It's news illiteracy.

[moutainrusing]

teenagers

527 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Grounded. He was grounded. Sirius scowled, pacing his awful, claustrophobic room, which was actually huge, but that wasn’t the point. He was trapped. Not allowed to leave. What gave his parents the right to be in charge of him? Just because they were adults and he wasn’t meant that he didn’t have control over his own life?

Infuriating. He could go out whenever he liked. He could, and he would, because he was old enough. He didn’t have to listen to people he didn’t want to. He couldn’t be forcibly grounded; no one had that power over him.

He was fifteen. Fifteen year olds were allowed to go out! Whenever! All the time!

Sirius grabbed his hidden burner-phone, a gift from James, and called him.

The faces of James, Remus and Peter appeared. Why the fuck did they get to be together?!

“Alright?” James asked.

“I’m fucking grounded?!”

“That’s rubbish!” Peter cried.

“Ridiculous!” James agreed, completely aghast.

Remus grimaced in empathy. “Sorry about that. Call us whenever, though.”

“I don’t wanna just call you, I wanna see you!” Sirius whined.

They all glanced at each other. Remus turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Give us a minute.”

Then they were gone. Sirius was tempted to throw the phone at the wall.

But after a while, there was a tapping at his window. He scrambled towards it. “Remus?!”

Remus smirked, and held up a hammer. Sirius stumbled backwards. Within that time, the glass had shattered, making barely any mess nor sound.

“A professional little tap,” Remus explained, with a flourish of his hammer. He grinned, “I’m your knight in shining armour. And James is my horse,” he pointed below, and Sirius peered out of his new window hole.

Remus was standing on James’s shoulders, and together they managed to make an at least twelve-foot tower.

Sirius laughed. “Thanks guys. And thanks, my knight,” he smiled at Remus.

“I think the horse deserves more credit!” James grumbled. “And we need to go! Stop gazing into each other’s eyes!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Hold your horses, mate.”

James snorted, “You think you’re funny—”

“I am funny. Sirius, pass your blanket,” Remus directed.

Sirius obeyed, raising his eyebrows while Remus placed his hammer on Sirius’s floor, before cushioning the blanket around the window hole.

“So you don’t get cut by glass!” Remus exclaimed.

“Aw, my knight’s so thoughtful,” Sirius cooed, climbing out. He dangled from the window ledge, and Remus reached out to hold him, and James began to stumble—

They collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“Ah, shit!” James groaned.

“Sirius?” Walburga called. She alerted the entire neighbourhood, “He’s not in his room!”

Sirius wanted to scream. She’d finally unlocked his door, but at the worst possible moment.

“What?!” Orion roared. “The window’s shattered! I knew we shouldn’t have given him windows!”

“I thought locking it would be enough!” Walburga defended.

“Clearly, you’re gormless!” Orion fumed.

“Don’t start with me, we need to yell at Sirius!”

Remus whispered, “And that’s our cue to leg it.” With that, the trio ran.

They ran right into Peter, who was patiently keeping watch, and the four of them toppled to the ground.

[fernandopiastri28]

little bit in love with you ~ landoscar

"Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,”Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up.

warnings- drinking | wc: 7,920

“You know Oscar likes Logan, right?” Max’s arm drapes across Lando’s back, his hand idly rubbing against the thin material of his sport shirt. It’s a Monday night and they both have flights to the next grand prix at around midday tomorrow. But right now, work and racing was the least of their concerns. It’s been a shit weekend for them both, which means retreating to one of their rooms, (usually Max’s since Checo usually clears out to spend time with Carola and the kids instead of at the hotel), and playing video games until their eyes burn with exhaust.

Lando does know that, the mere thought of it never fails to make his stomach twist up in discomfort, because he knows it is true, he just wishes it wasn’t. “Yeah, thanks Max,” He rolls his eyes, brushing the comment off like it doesn’t hurt him. Max’ a sensitive person, garnering a surprising talent for gauging emotions and how to be cautious to not hurt someone. Seemingly that has gone out of the window for the night.  

Max gives him a weak shrug in reply, near ignorant. “ Lando , you know why I’m telling you that,”

He does, he just doesn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, you could be less blunt about it though,” Lando’s shameful about how sensitive and ‘babyish’ he was, it being one of the more embarrassing parts of himself. He’ll always try to put on a ‘tough’ face to the media, pretending that he’s completely unaffected by absolutely anything. Yet, he never even tried to ‘be strong’ around Max- having cried too many times to the dutch man to even attempt to.

Another shrug, even less emotion or empathy in this one. “It’ll take a miracle for you to accept that the way you feel for Oscar is unreciprocated. I’m trying to get it through your thick skull before you get any more hurt then you already are,”

Ouch. 

Usually Max is the nicer of the two, even possibly just the nicest guy in general. Get a few drops of alcohol into his system though and he’s painfully honest, mean when it comes to Lando and his infinity for his younger teammate.

The corners of Lando’s lips unstick after forming together by pressing them together so tight. “But-“

“No buts, I’m sick and tired of hearing about Oscar all the time. Oscar did this, Oscar did that , how about you think about me for once?” His eyes are beady as they bore holes into Lando’s skin, his glare searing.

“ You like Charles, I have to put up with hearing about him,” He tries to rebut it, yet the point is mute. The way Max spoke about his supposed rival was not at all comparable to how Lando speaks about his younger teammate. It’s occasional, more expressed through the way that Max seems to laugh impossibly hard around him. He has a permanent smile tattooed onto his mouth each time he hangs out with Charles. He rarely talks about it, cause he really doesn’t need to. He shows his love.

Max pulls a face at him, the arm that’s haphazardly on Lando tensing up. “That’s not a fair comparison and you know it, Norris,” Norris, not Lando. He’s upset. He’d never used Norris, even back in Lando’s initial first days in formula 1 together when they were ‘pitted against each other’ to be rivals. 

Well, Max was set up against anyone to be fair. 

Not when Drive to Survive set them up to be enemies. Not even when Max left him for ferrari. There simply never was any bad blood. “Why not?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t want to fight, he really can’t be bothered to do so. He’d rather just be able to lay around with his best friend, sipping at cheap beers while they bitch and moan about formula 1. 

However, Lando has found himself to be more argumentative each year he’d remained in the rotting hell-hole team community of McLaren, so Max was likely expecting this.

He runs the hand that was previously on Lando’s shoulder through his blond mess of hair, not bothering to return it back to its original spot on Lando when he’s done. “I don’t know,” He sighs around his beer bottle, the lip of the glass against his bottom one. “It just is, Lando. Because Charles and I could never be together, he loves Alex- a woman. Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,” 

Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.

Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up. 

“Yeah, got it man. Your love life is a whole of a lot more successful than mine.” Seriously bitter and not trying remotely to hide it. He grits his teeth regardless, giving up on any more snarky comments for now.

Max's hand returns to Lando. This time, the tips of his fingers glided under his shirt to run along the tan skin over his back. “Not really. Charles isn’t mine, Oscar isn’t yours,” His words are thick like syrup, his Dutch accent adding a warm tinge Lando’s British one couldn’t replicate.

Lando’s cheeks turn an ugly shade of red, the one that’s usually only just visible through his visor when his face is shoved awkwardly under thick foam padding. The way his face crumples is similar to how his helmet forces the fat of his face to squish up. At least when he’s got the helmet on he looks like his grinning irritatingly wide, no matter his mood. Right now, Max can see through Lando, he sees every single thought and emotion that's passing through his mind.

“Lando,” Max’s wiry fingers snake up to the short tufts of hair that decorate the width of the back of the Brit’s neck. Lando hates how it makes him feel, as if he can almost imagine Oscar doing it. He can almost feel Oscar’s hand on him, his breath on his skin. Their knees bumping, their thighs rubbing together.

“I’m happy for Logan,” His tongue rolls over the words awkwardly. He doesn’t mean them. “Even if he’s not actually gay- must be validating for your best friend to have a crush on you,” Logan deserves the podiums in f1, the good car, the wins, the fucking respect. Lando doesn’t care for those things anymore. He just deserves a teammate who wants him back. 

Logan could take his damn seat at McLaren if it meant Oscar could finally be his. Maybe Lando could cope being seatless, maybe he could go to indycar. Oscar would be worth all of the sacrifices he would make. 

“You’re not,” He scoffs, sinking back further into the squishy cushions of the couch. Lando wants it to swallow him up whole, to not be in this situation right now. More so, he wants to bury his face into either Oscar’s chest or his lap, yet somehow the first option of being consumed by a Lando-eating couch seems more likely.

“I’m not,” There’s no point in disagreeing. They both know how he actually feels about this. “It’s not fair. It should just be easy, Oscar’s.. He’s gay, right?” The side of his forehead rubs against Max’ shoulder, finding a comfortable place to just rest the day off. “He’s gay and I’m a boy, a boy who loves him. Why can’t it just make sense? Why aren’t we just together already? It should just be easy.”

The noise Max makes is somewhat sympathetic, a mewl almost. “When has love ever been easy?” The hum of the aircon blaring in the room turns Lando’s mind fuzzy, his thoughts dissolving into mush as his eyes blankly stare at the flickering lamp bulb. 

He’d rather not think about that.

“Hey,” Lando’s elbow nudges into the soft flesh of Oscar’s stomach, his bare skin gliding against the jersey material of the Aussie’s outfit. It’s an ugly outfit, objectively. A maroon t-shirt, the same one he’d worn to that team dinner sometime at the end of the previous season, a Miami Heat red singlet on top of it. 

Pants wise, he has on a pair of beige cargo shorts, short enough to ride up on his muscular thighs. The hair on his legs is so light, practically blonde. Lando’s jealous- of the legs definition, not the hair colour. He really likes Oscar’s thick thighs, despite how almost gross it felt to admit that to himself. 

He’s perfectly fine with putting his romantic feelings towards his teammate into words, yet anything mentioning his physical and admittedly, sexual, feelings- yeah, definitely a challenge.

“Hey,” The tops of Oscar’s cheeks are dyed permanently red from the Miami heat, his hair looking lighter underneath the beaming sun. It almost looks a golden brown colour, instead of its usual mousy brown. He looks like he’s blushing, the way he did at any sight of Lando.

“Whatchu been up to these past few days?” He sounds beyond stupid saying it, whatchu. Couldn’t he have just been normal and seemed somewhat competent and stuck with What have you?. He’s so cautious about that- seeming dumb in front of Oscar. 

If he could really say what he wanted, he'd be spilling out every single way to say I love you possible, so he just grits his teeth and settles for being cringey.

If Oscar is any bit cringed out by it, he doesn’t show it. “Ehh, nothing much I guess,” His eyes flicker over to the small band aid that covered the cut on the bridge of Lando’s nose. He looks as if he’s about to make a comment on it, ask how Lando was so stupid to fuck up his face just before possibly the biggest media grand prix. Instead, his eyes turn back to the path ahead of him. “Yeah, just been hanging out with Logan a bit. Amping up the celebrations for his home grand prix,” 

Great. Fucking Logan has to be brought up.

“Oh yeah?” His faux interest sounds like a near mock. Jealousy seeps thick into his tone, hatred forging towards the American for simply existing. For simply being the one that Oscar loves. Luckily, and somehow miraculously, Oscar doesn’t pick up on the off-tone. Lando grinds his teeth, willing himself to shut up and not spew into anti Logan conversation.

“Yeah,” The younger boy smiles slightly, the wrinkles that appear at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” An attempted mimic of Lando’s accent, more hitting a very posh George or Lewis one instead of Lando’s bristol accent. “He.. he’s not quite himself anymore, I guess,” The back of his hand rubs against his nose, trying to force away an itch that’s formed itself over a pimple. 

He was going to make an idiotic comment directed towards Oscar about how abhorrent his attempt at an English accent was until he got all serious about Logan. Now, it seems insensitive and ignorant to not even pretend he cared about the blond man who’s taking away the love of his life without even realising.

Mustering up any bit of caring, pulling from the part of him that believes ‘ if I show I care about his best friend's misfortunes, maybe he’ll like me as he’ll see that I am so very kind and caring,’, he pitches his voice in a way that gives it some sense of interest. “Oh shit, how so?” 

Yeah. Believable enough.

Oscar cards a hand through his mess of a middle part. “He’s not the same Logan I’ve known since I was 14. He- he’s clearly affected by not being able to score points, having a shit car, the sheer amount of hate he receives online,” A weird noise comes straight up from his throat, as if he’s attempted to hack away at something. “I’m really worried about him. He doesn’t really have anyone besides me- doesn’t think anyone likes him,”

Well shit, now he does feel bad for him.

“Alex likes him,” He adds annoyingly- why he didn’t say himself is just idiotic. Yeah, it would’ve been a lie, he still really doesn’t like Logan, but pointing that out to Oscar is possibly one of his shockingly dumbest moments. 

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up a bit, his usually half lidded eyes opening up into stupidly big doe eyes. He looks really fucking cute, and Lando curses him for looking so soft when the topic of conversation is on Logan. “You know Alex better than I do,” Lando isn’t quite sure where Oscar was going with that. “Does he actually like him, or is it just as teammates?” 

Lando becomes aware that they’re awfully close to the media pen now, which means their conversation is going to be coming to a forced halt pretty much immediately. “Yeah, he actually likes him. Not just a forced proximity thing, you know?” He assures him, watching with a growing smile and sense of pride when Oscar seems to relax, the light in his eyes brightening.

“Yeah, yeah. Good,” He sighs, taking a black pen that’s shoved against him into his hand, scribbling his signature onto a teenage girl’s hat.

Lando does the same for a shirt that belongs to a boy who looks no older than nine. When he turns back to Oscar, his lips twist into a tantalising grin, “Yeah, yeah. Good,” He mocks him in return for Oscar doing so earlier.

“Awful accent Lando. You needa spend some more time with Danny Ric to work on it,” A huff paired with an eye roll. Successful, he found it funny.

“Or I could spend more time with you,” Hopeful, hopeful. Please come across well.

“You could, indeed,”

Double success.

“I fucking hate Miami,” Oscar isn’t usually so pessimistic, but after a three consecutive hardly mediocre free practices, followed by a mid-field qualifying, and only 2 points on sunday, he’s down in the dumps.

The two of them are sitting in the McLaren motorhome, Lando having just narrowly missed out on another podium in fourth. It’s another boring top three- Max, Lewis, Checo. Nothing to write home about, or even really celebrate. So they’re on the couch, Oscar’s legs kicking up onto the table and Lando’s just next to Oscar’s hips with his bent knees pointing up to the ceiling.

Both of them have their race suits dangling off their hips. The Aussie’s hair is drenched, having had a bottle of water poured over his head by Logan after he’d gotten P11. He was ecstatic, so close to points- or point, singular. He was off celebrating with his family, which Lando thought was simply idiotic. He hadn’t even scored a point, what was he celebrating for?

Lando looks up from where he was engrossed in scrolling through twitter and saving some videos he knew he’d likely find himself watching as he tried to ‘sleep’ tonight. “Yeah, same,” He purses his lips, switching his phone off and tossing it forward. He was aiming for it to land at the edge of his feet, in the space between where his toes ended and the right side of Oscar’s hip was, but his horrific aim makes an appearance as it lands right into the Aussie’s lap. 

Oscar picks the phone up gingerly, acting as if it was infected. Lando’s horrified to see that when the screen was in his view, that he actually hadn’t managed to turn it off. That damn Quad Lock case he’d taken from Oscar made it near impossible to click the off button. “Shit, fuck, stop,” Lando tries desperately to yank the phone back as Oscar straightens his arm away, looking at what Lando’s had been searching.

His expression is difficult to read at first. It seems a mix of curiosity with disgust, likely as his teammate had been openly scrolling through porn right next to him. Then, his face shifts into something cloudy and indescribable- like a switch had been flicked in his brain. He finally has something above Lando. Lando who has tantalised him over the course of the past two seasons, teasing him about his lack of a sense of humour, mocking him publicly, making him seem like some stupid.. Fucking bottom. 

“What’s this Lando?” He taunts, his free hand pushing Lando off him to give him a better, uninterrupted look at the phone. “Oh, you freak” His voice has never sounded so malicious. It’s delicious, seeing the vulnerable bits of Lando that have always been locked away.

“Fucking stop it , Oscar,” He growls, his hands clawing at the scratchy fireproof fabric stretching across his teammates back. “It’s not funny,” His face feels impossibly hot. If Oscar was to ever see what was in his search history, he’d be praying infinitely that the Lando-eating couch would actually become a real thing.,

“Oooh,” Voice colder than ice. “Teammate sex,” Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t real, it’s just a horrible nightmare that he would wake up from in a full body sweat. “You dirty dog,” Lando’s face crumples, he was going to cry- he was sure of that. “What kind of dubious activities do you get up to with Max? Or is it Daniel?”

Oscar’s taunts finally came to a halt when the scratches against his back stopped. The yelling stopped. Lando stopped. “Just give it back Oscar,” Lando’s voice wavers, his hand reaching out under the arm the phone was in.

He’s not laughing anymore, both of them just blankly looking at each other. Oscar’s mouth seems to take over from his mind, working on auto pilot in a sense. “Are you gay?” His teeth feel heavy, if that’s possible. The sensation could better be described as unfamiliar, like they’ve been crammed into his mouth. The question is hard to ask, and he’s not sure if it was a complete invasion of privacy for him to do so.

Lando’s fingers curl back up to make a weak fist, giving up on the attempt to snatch his phone back. “What do you think?” Harsh and jarring, an attack on Oscar’s lack of cognitive thinking skills and problem solving abilities. “You can see my search history. How to come out as gay is quite literally right under what you read out,” He can’t bring himself to repeat the phrase he’d searched up while watching water stream down Oscar’s face during Logan’s celebration. It’s shameful, and awful. 

All of this is awful. He wishes he could’ve come out to Oscar in just about any other way.

Oscar’s chest heaves with great effort, a blank flicker burning behind his brown eyes. “But like- all the girls?” He murmurs, his eyebrows pinching together as his eyes dart around rapidly, the cogs in his mind churning quickly to process the information.

Lando sits back on his heels, his eyes unable to meet Oscar’s burning gaze. He seems surprised.. unaccepting. For a guy who’s in love with another guy, he seems unable to comprehend the concept of being gay. “I like both” He picks at the flaking skin around his nails. “I guess I’m more-”

“Bisexual?”

“Yeah, that.” He swallows dryly, wishing he still had his water bottle from earlier.

“Is it Carlos?” A pair of brown eyes mapping out the incredulous expression on Lando’s face, his brain hurting with all the news he’s taking in.

“Carlos?” How the hell Oscar has come to that conclusion is beyond him. “Why the hell would it be Carlos?” His fingers wrap around one of Oscar’s wrists, the tips of his fingers only just touching. 

Oscar looks even more bewildered, a face of pure shock painting his features. He looks adorable, hazy eyes widened as far as possible, jaw slightly opened with his bunny teeth peeking into visibility. “Daniel!” He proclaims, his voice high and squeaky much like Lando’s had been in his first years in formula one. High and undeveloped from puberty. 

“No- for god sakes, not fucking Ricciardo,” His hand meets Oscar’s shoulder, shoving him playfully. It’s not until he makes that move that he realises the compromising position they’ve somehow shifted into. Oscar’s on his back, long legs spread out across the pillow cushions. Hiis core muscles are being put to work as he holds himself into sitting at about a 45 degree angle to his legs. Lando in comparison is sitting straight up, one hand on Oscar’s tensed abdomen and the other on his own thigh, his knees bracketing around Oscar’s narrow waist.

His ass is planted straight onto Oscar’s thighs, and it’s not in the circumstance he hoped it would’ve happened under.

Oscar’s eyes are looking up at where Lando is looking down at him, their height levels reversed like this. The whites under his milky brown eyes are perfectly shown, making him look like a begging puppy. He is, in a sense, so desperate to know who Lando has a crush on. For a guy who gets the title of being one of the smartest drivers on the grid- he’s fucking oblivious to something that is quite literally being shoved under his nose. 

So as confidence builds deep in Lando’s belly, the want to confess everything he’s ever felt towards his junior teammate miraculously grows further. The desire to pour out all of his love until he’s just a puddle of goop resting at Oscar’s feet, nothing without his lovesick thoughts and late night desperations. He’s putty in Oscar’s hands. 

Yet, he can’t confess anything.

It’s difficult to tell why he’s simply unable to do it. Whether it’s his mouth that won’t be pried open by anything, his voicebox’s inability to make any noise that’s more than a strangled squeak, or because his throat feels so tight that an attempt of trying to do anything besides breathing would cause him to pass out from effort. 

“Is it just a kink then?” Lando’s getting off him just as he’s finishing asking. He needs some fresh air, and some space- especially from a question like that.

“Ew, Oscar,” His nose wrinkles as his feet hit the floor, his knees locking to draw a halt to the shaking that gives caution that he may go tumbling to the floor at any moment. Just like how Oscar had been struggling so hard to process Lando coming out, Lando was struggling to believe he’d actually admitted it. “Don’t ask people that, it’s really weird,”

The Australian's lips purse, twisting around words that aren’t translating into audible sound. “Right.” He gets out finally, a huff. Not ignorant like Carlos’ or Max’s, but genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was crossing a boundary,” 

Lando immediately feels bad. He feels like he’s pushed Oscar too far, been too mean today. It wasn’t just the events currently going on, but also earlier side comments to Carlos about Logan’s obnoxious celebrations over fuck all, and borderline calling Oscar’s outfit ugly during a media call after lunch time. 

He feels really, really bad now. 

The sensation of being about to throw up only intensifies as he thinks about how awful he actually is to Oscar. No wonder he likes Logan. Logan is fun and bubbly. Lando is a whiny pessimistic brat who rarely has anything positive to say about anyone. “I guess it is,” His heart rate spikes at the confession, because in what fucking universe was he telling his teammate that he got off on watching teammates have sex. 

Lord, it all seems like a very distressing fever dream.

A lock of the younger boy's chocolatey swooped hair falls over his forehead and covers one of his eyebrows. “Huh? You guess what is?” He’s also getting up off the couch at this point, tugging at the hem of his fireproof to cover the patch of skin it has rode up to show.

Lando forces his eyes away from looking.

“It’s a kink,” His cheeks are painted far rosier than he’s ever even seen Oscar’s go. “I don’t know where it came from, came up on my twitter one day and I thought it was hot,” His thumbnail slides in between his front bottom teeth, awkwardly chewing on it to avoid talking any bit more than he needs to.

“Ah,” Oscar’s amused by the answer to some extent, “Well, I guess two fit and sweaty guys fucking about does seem about as good as gay porn can get.” He shrugs it off casually. Once again, how did Lando drag them both into this conversation?

They both look at eachother with thin lips holding back howls of laughter. “You’ve certainly got it Piastri. You are quite the porn expert,” He squeezes the soft meat over Oscar’s hip, watching a clear shivered jolt hit the other boy from the tease.

And that perfect Piastri blush.

(Oscar's Pov)

“Oscar!” Pounding on his door fills the room. He has to forcefully pull himself off his couch, tightening the strings of his sweatpants waistband so they don’t slip off his hips the second he opens the door. 

His mouth is filled with the bitter post nap taste that he’s forcibly creating saliva to get rid of. He’d nearly immediately passed out on his hotel couch after he’d gotten home post the Lando-Porn-Coming out conversation. He still feels fried, even hours later. Maybe having a nap in the later afternoon was a poor decision because he now isn't going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

Sure, Lando coming out as gay wasn’t the absolute wildest thing he’d ever heard. He knew a fair few drivers on the grid were- himself included. It was more his search history, which he could’ve sworn he saw his own name in, and the whole.. Yeah, teammate kink thing.

“Hello?” His voice comes out as bleary and croaky, likely from breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. “Lando?” He has to clear his voice first, getting all the gross phlegm out. “Is there any reason you are at my door?” His hip makes contact with the doorframe as he rests against it, his eyebrows pulling together to study his teammate. 

Lando’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a satin navy button up, his full chest visible from how many buttons are undone. Dampened curls spilling across his forehead and a tight backwards cap smushed over them. He looks ready to hit the town for a night out, vastly different then what he’d conveyed his plans for his evening back in the motor home. As far as Oscar was concerned, Lando was going to be spending the night under the covers with his phone and hand.

“Didn’t you hear the news?” Thanks, that’s rather vague. He pushes past Oscar to let himself into the room. He seems more normal compared to how he’d left the motorhome earlier, not all... weird, like curdled milk or moulded bread. 

Oscar’s hungry, not for spoiled foods, but, yeah.

“Yeah, nah,” He shakes his head, instantaneously having Lando’s phone thrusted into his hand. He has to squint to see the glaring phone screen in comparison to the dimly lit living room. Eyes strained with effort, he skims over the article. By the end of it, he almost drops the phone.

Holy shit . ‘Due to track records…’ The article read , ‘Lewis Hamilton (2nd place), Sergio Perez (3rd place), Nico Hulkenberg (8th place), and Esteban Ocon (6th place) lap times have been deleted,' His eyes widen, a knot forming and twisting painfully in his stomach. “The new results are as follows; 1st. Max Verstappen- Red Bull (Remain), 2nd. Lando Norris- McLaren (4th originally),” Oscar looks up at his gleeful teammate who’s just secured yet another podium to his name. 

‘3rd. Charles Leclerc- Ferrari (Previously 5th), 4th. Fernando Alonso- Aston Martin (Previously 7th), 5th. Oscar Piastri- McLaren (Previously 9th),” A far more satisfactory result of 10 points over 2. ‘ 6th. Carlos Sainz- Ferrari (Previously 10th)’ He fights the urge to roll his eyes. He genuinely couldn’t even attempt to like Carlos if he tried. And then he sees it- ‘ Logan Sargeant- Williams (Previously 11th)’ 

(Lando’s Pov)

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” Oscar begins to celebrate his best friend, pride bursting out the seams. Finally, a chance for Logan to show off the talent that he hasn’t been able to flaunt yet in f1. Lando cringes out from the celebration, not because he thinks Oscar is being weird as he jumps around the place- it’s actually quite endearing. It’s more that it’s all about Logan scoring a point, not because he received another podium.

He forces a smile, taking his phone back from Oscar as the younger boy begins to calm down. “God, does Logan know?” He’s cheesing out so hard, and Lando can’t help but wish that energy and pride was directed towards himself. “Fuck, watch this race help him secure a 2025 seat- what a rush,” He sighs, his hand on his chest to slow his breathing down.

Lando’s teeth grit, it’s a bad habit of his ass of recent. Gritting his teeth helps him to not make any stupid comments to the Australian that could ruin his attempts of ‘wooing’ him. Aussie grit, hahaha, maybe their ‘ship’ name could be Mark’s nickname.

Or maybe that’s really weird and Lando should keep gritting his teeth so he doesn’t tell Oscar that he just thought that.

He cocks his head to the side, his shoulders going up to meet them in a careless shrug. “Uh, don’t know. Maybe us four could go out to celebrate tonight,” He suggests, having both of the Williams drivers in mind. That way Alex could hopefully distract Logan so Lando could genuinely just talk to Oscar for a bit. Or just separate the two newbies so Oscar didn’t have to watch Oscar practically drool over the American all night.

“The four of us?” His voice is slightly hoarse from his celebration. “What, are you gonna invite Carlos?” It’s said in a hushed tone, as if it’s a scandal for Carlos to be mentioned. It takes a few seconds for it to click why that is. 

It’s because Oscar is still convinced that Lando is in love with Carlos.

“Osc, for crying out loud. I do not have feelings for Carlos,” It gets a laugh out of Oscar, so he’s willing to put up with the CarLando allegations just to make Oscar smile.

“Good,” He grabs a jacket off the back of his couch, a McLaren one from their partnership with Reiss, and begins wriggling into it. “Cause I really dislike Carlos. He’s just.. you know how I feel about him,” A short breath passes his lips as he straightens the jacket out, before looking up at Lando expectantly. “So.. who’s the fourth person then?” 

Lando gives Oscar an up and down, silently judging his outfit of a stained white shirt, grey joggers and a puffer over the top. He’d spent far too long getting ready once he’d heard the news from Jon, and he’d just had to pray Oscar was sleeping- a safe and true bet- so he could deliver the news straight to his teammate when he heard. “Uh, Albono,” Grit your teeth Lando, don’t say anything. 

“Ah, the padel group,” Oscar cheers gleefully and shoves his hands into his pocket as a go ahead for Lando to begin walking towards the door.

“Oh Oscar,” He hums, shaking his head. “Please, let me pick out a better outfit for you,” Half expecting a reaction of partial offence, he’s surprised when Oscar’s willingly guiding him into his bedroom to where he has piles of clothes scattered across the floor.

“Sorry, please ignore the mess.” Ever so polite, yet so messy that it’s genuinely difficult to try and ignore it. He wants to make a comment of ‘ how can you live like this Piastri?’ But no, he needs to work on being nicer. Grit Lando, Grit.

“Yeah, all good,” It’s said within a drawn out sigh as he begins sifting through the few articles  of clothing that Oscar has managed to hang up. “This is nice, where'd you get it from?” He holds up a hanger that’s holding a white button up, dark blue embroidery down the sides. 

He looks over his shoulder to where Oscar is standing cross armed, his jacket long discarded and his arms looking huge with the way he’s almost flexing. “Uh, Logan gave it to me,” He murmurs, meeting Lando’s eyes with a look of acceptance to where it is. “Or.. actually, I think it was Robert,”

“Robert?”

“Shwartzman. He was my teammate at Prema,”

Ah, yes. He was often reminded of the fact that he and Oscar had such different previous few years. Oscar was in prema from 2020 until 2021, and Lando left in 2018. Oscar had all of his own F2 and F3 friends, while F1 was all Lando has known for years. “Right,” He bundles the shirt up, tossing it behind himself to where Oscar catches it and begins getting dressed right there. “Pants time,” 

“I can’t wear joggers?” 

“Of course you can’t wear joggers with a button up Osc,” In saying that, he reckons Oscar is probably the only person in the world who could actually pull that look off.

“Fine,” Lando extracts a pair of black jeans much like his own and gives them to Oscar, actually turning around to face him when he does. The shirt is definitely a good choice. Tight around Oscar’s narrow waist, big arms, and wide chest. He stares blankly at a spot on the wall as Oscar changes from his sweatpants to the jeans, struggling to pull them up at the very end. “How do I look?”

“Yeah, good, good,” There’s a definite waver in his voice, but it’s nothing compared to how fast his heart and mind are pounding at the very moment. “Really good, handsome,” He smirks, getting a violent blush out of Oscar. He looks fantastic, and Lando already knows he’s gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off the Aussie for the night. 

Two facts dawn on Lando within the first hour at the club. Firstly, he’s never seen his teammate drunk, or even relatively intoxicated. Secondly, Oscar is extra funny when he’s drunk- which he gets rather easily. Currently, he’s sitting on the shoulders of some singer that Alex had informed Lando was called Jackson Wang. 

Connection between the two? None. Apparently he was the DJ, but clearly he’s preoccupied away from the table.

“Landooooo,” Oscar calls out, one hand in Jackson’s hair while his other one is wrapped around a plastic cup of pure vodka, condensation staining into his pants. The vodka is not the cheap kind, it’s probably far out of any range of alcohol Oscar’s ever had before for a guy who grew up in Melbourne with goon bags at parties. “Hey Lans,” He grins as Lando looks up at him, his green eyes covered by a pair of purple shutter shades that had been shoved onto his face.

“Hey Osc,” He smiles, feeling far too sober right now. It’s nice though, he’s enjoying seeing Oscar so peppy and high spirited. “Whatcha got in your glass,” Ew, not whatcha again. Oscar ducks his head, mumbling something into Jackson’s ear which gets him to bend his legs enough for Oscar to get back onto the ground. A quick embrace shared between the two before Jackson gets back to work actually being a DJ.

“Vodka, the expensive type.” He whistles, guzzling the last of his glass as he steps into Lando’s space, one of his feet between the brit’s. His breath is hot, his voice thick and sickly. “I feel really good Lando,” He whispers, nuzzling his neck into the crook of his elder teammate’s neck.

And as much as he wants to enjoy and savour the moment, he’s worried. “I’m glad Osc,” He slides his arm around the younger’s waist, helping to support him as his other hand brings his scotch to his lips. He’s not sure where he acquired the drink from, especially it not being his drink of choice, but he’s not going to complain about free alcohol. “Shouldn’t you be with Logan?”

He’s leaning on Lando, flipping their height difference around to be smaller than his older teammate. Oscar’s eyes gleam in the dark lighting of the club, the sclera of his eyes more visible then any bit of his pupils. “He’s with.. some girls I think,” He scratches the long strands of his hair that he’s been allowing to grow out. “So, yeah. He doesn’t have time for me,”

Lando feels awful for him. Because not only is Oscar being forced to watch the guy he likes be surrounded and shower people that aren’t himself with attention, it’s all just girls. Logan isn’t gay, and Oscar has to have that shoved down his throat. “I’m sorry about him, Osc. You don’t deserve that.” 

Confusion spreads across his soft features, “Why?” His hands rub harshly at his eyes, pushing away his exhaustion to try and keep partying. “I’m happy for him? This is exactly what he needs- some validation that he’s wanted.” He pushes himself up to standing properly, his back hunched over due to the poor posture that he always has. “What don’t I deserve?”

Now Lando is confused. “Because you like Logan,”

“Obviously I like Logan- he’s my best mate,” Obviously, so snappy and completely unlike Oscar.

“No, you like Logan,”

Oscar’s eyes close into a squint of complete disbelief. “I what Logan?” Fucking hell, Drunk Oscar is annoying. “Who is going around telling you that?”

“Max,”

“Why on earth would Max know who I like?” His tone is harsh, the previous bubbliness he had from the alcohol wearing off to reveal a bitchy and irritated Oscar.

“Uh, Charles?” Lando’s voice on the other hand is squeaky and unsure. He does know one thing for sure, he needs another drink. And actually, he needs these shutter shades off, he’s probably pretty difficult to take seriously with glittery glasses on his face. “He- He told me because he found out that I like you,” It feels shameful to say it, like it’s a secret he promised to never repeat. 

Lando hooks a finger into the bridge of the glasses, pulling them down just enough to catch the way Oscar’s face softens, a small smile on his lips. He looks flattered, not disgusted like how Lando had almost forced himself to believe he would react. 

The moment is peaceful and perfect, until Oscar takes in the previous point about Charles being the leak, and his face twists up like he’s just eaten a lemon. “I’m gonna assume Charles heard from Carlos who ‘heard’ from Daniel, huh?” He winced, looking very displeased. Lando simply shrugged in response, not sure how he was supposed to react. “Daniel knows who I actually like and I reckon he slipped up to Carlos, who twisted it into Logan.” 

What the fuck. Oscar doesn’t actually like Logan? 

“Who is it then?” Lando’s body aches as jolts of nerves shoot up his spine. He’s asking, but he really doesn’t actually want to know the answer. He’s had to get used to the idea that it might be Logan, so despite his distaste for the American, he’s forced himself to understand that Logan and Oscar’s friendship has spanned over almost a decade, and there has been so much of the younger’s life that Logan was there for, that Lando wasn’t.

But now he’ll have to deal with Oscar liking another person who isn’t him, directly after he confessed his feelings for the Australian. Fuck his actual life, he knew it was too good to be true of a reaction.

“Lando Norris, you are very possibly the dumbest person I’ve ever met,” He sighs, pulling him over into a corner of the club. “You seriously don’t know?” He grins, his bunny teeth hooked over his bottom lip as he looks down at Lando. Lando stares blankly at where one of Oscar’s shirt buttons have come undone, unable to look him in the eye when he tells him who it is. “I thought I’d been pretty oblivious that it’s you,”

No fucking way. Fuck off Oscar, that’s not fucking funny mate. His lips are locked shut, his jaw hanging lax but his mouth sealed close. Speak Lando, say fucking anything. You’re not even intentionally holding back, your teeth aren’t touching for God's sakes! 

“No you don’t” A barking laugh emits from the Australian who shakes Lando by the shoulders. “No, no you don’t like me Oscar,” It’s a dream that’s too good to be true. In no universes does Oscar Piastri ever like Lando Norris back- and especially not this one.

“Not sure you get to make that call,”

“You don’t,”

“Ah, but I do Lan,”

“I like that,”

“Lan, Lan, Lan,” He chants, his voice echoing in Lando’s head in a dreamlike, wistful tone. “Lan, I really like you. Not Logan, not Liam, not Guanyu. I like you,” His smile is huge, almost too big to seem sincere.

It’s too good to be true.

“If this is a joke, I’d rather you just stop now. You’re painfully unfunny with this,” He pulls away, turning to where he sees George’s lanky figure pumping a fist into the air while dancing. He has a drink in his hand, one that Lando desperately needs another of so he can forget about this. 

Except, he can’t move. The sturdy grip of an arm around his waist keeps him in place, unmoving and trapped. “I’m offended you’d think I’d lie about that, Lan,” Oscar’s voice is shaking with nerves, his heart pounding against Lando’s back. “Because I really fucking like you, so stop calling me a liar.”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees all he’s ever wanted right in front of his eyes, this moment, this is better than he could predict a first win could be. He’s got it, he’s got Oscar. He just.. Fuck, he needs his mouth to work again. “I like you,”

“I’m fond of myself too, thank you Mr Norris,”

Lando fights off the intense urge to push Oscar away and roll his eyes. The moment is too good anyways, he doesn’t mind how annoying Oscar is. “Shut up and kiss me,”

It’s even better than every podium and every F2 win combined. Oscar’s mouth is warm and wet, inviting, his lips moulding against Lando’s to fit them into place. Oscar’s small hands reach up to grip onto the sweaty curls on the back of the Brit's head, forcing him closer to taste him better. Their noses nudge against each other, their tongues fighting for dominance just like on track.

“You- fuck- you’re such a good kisser,” Lando licks along Oscar’s bottom lip, panting for a break to enjoy and relish the moment. His head is spinning violently, and the kiss is to blame far more than the alcohol. “Just wanna,” He pants, grabbing Oscar’s face in between his hands and shoving his lips against the younger boy’s. 

“Fuck Lan, that hurts,” He laughs, pushing him backward into another guy’s back, his own hand on his stomach. “You’re so aggressive,” The grin he has on is contagious, and Lando knows it’s the only smile he wants to see for the rest of his life.

Oscar is the only person he ever wants to make laugh again.

Lando shrugs, attaching his mouth back onto Oscar’s sweaty neck, and fuck, it’s the best decision he’s ever made. The Australian’s neck is so thick and biteable, which is never a thought Lando has ever had about someone’s body part, but it’s all he wants to do right now- litter the pale skin with purple and red hickeys. “Yes, please, that feels so good, Lan,” His mouth moves at a million miles to spew out praises for his teammate, urging him to keep going. 

Lando doesn’t need to be encouraged, he’ll willingly do this til the end of time.

“Ha-h-hotel,” Oscar spits out, grabbing Lando’s wrist and tugging him out of the club closely after him. “Wanna- wanna kiss you without everyone around us,” On the way out, he squeezes Logan’s waist as they pass by him. The blond is dancing with his arms around Alex, surprisingly, not around any girl. And in actuality, there aren’t any girls around him. 

Oh, that’s why Oscar was so excited when Lando said that Alex likes Logan. He was also likely lying about Logan being with a bunch of girls because based on how comfortable they both look, they've been dancing together the whole night. Lando didn’t even know that it was that way for either the American or the Thai man.

He'll definitely need to talk about this with Alex.

Logan’s head whips around as he sees Lando basically attached to Oscar and his blue eyes widen, a grin of excitement on his face. “You fucking did it, Osc!” Oscar nods wildly, raising his eyebrows in congratulations to Logan in return. 

The two will likely discuss more of both of their situations at another time, but right now, Lando shamelessly wants Oscar all to himself.

Time seems to be passing by too quickly for Lando to even comprehend each moment, as before he knows it, he’s in a taxi and his mouth is back on Oscar’s neck, clearly successful in his plan to leave as many hickeys as possible.

Looks like they’re gonna hurt like hell in the morning. 

“Osc, Osc, Osc,” He pants, his teeth feeling strangely numb as they graze over the same patch of skin for what feels like the thousandth time. “Does Logan like Alex?” He’s met with the sloppy kiss of Oscar battling to get to his tongue again. 

He’ll take that as a yes.

“Uh huh. It was never Lo and I, it was me wanting you, and Lo liking Alex.” He grumbles, upset when Lando pulls away for a breather. Clearly, Oscar has a kissing stamina that Lando simply can’t keep up with. “Lannn,” He whines, his hand meeting Lando’s cheeks to direct his mouth back to his own.

“Osc, you are more of a whiny brat than Carlos,” Oscar’s smile drops and his eyebrow raises. Lando laughs harder, pecking Oscar’s lips but being met with a twist of his head away and refusal of kisses. “Don’t be like that, Piastri,” The words all slur together, so it’s probably the weakest delivery of a threat possible.

“Don’t compare me to Carlos,” He warns, his eyes squinted to make him look ‘scarier’.

With a huff, he finally caves. If he and Oscar are gonna be like this, he’s gonna have to sort out a way for his best friend and hopefully his boyfriend to get on well. “Fine. You are more of a whiny brat then I am whenever I don’t get a podium,” 

“Wow. I’ll stop complaining so much. I must be really irritating right now,”

With an eye roll, he finally gets Oscar to properly kiss him back. “I love you just a little bit, Osc,”

“Love you more, Lan,”

I'm actually so surprised I started writing this about a week ago with the intention of Lando winning the miami race in the book but then he actually won and decided i would write a separate story about that 🙃. Anyways congratulations to Lando for his first win. carlos and oscar need to stop beefing but it is a good plot point so! also, the original top 11 finishes in the book are as listed to make more sense; Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Sergio Perez, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Esteban Ocon, Fernando Alonso, Nico Hulkenberg, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Logan Sargeant.

[katherinearandez]

I don’t think Tessa is one of the good guys

I have a lot of questions about Tessa. What are her goals? Is she really on copper 9 for the reasons she told us in episode 6? Does she have hidden motives, and if so, what are they???

The lines of “morality” in this show are super squiggly, so by “good guy”, I mean an individual with positive or helpful intent toward the main characters - in this case, drones. The concept of Tessa bearing ill-intent for drones as a ‘species’ seemed contradictory at first: after all, she’s so nice to N, V and J, right? We’re talking about someone who, as a kid, saved zombie drones from the dump(cough, mass grave, cough) where their human owners left them to rot after creating them by means of improper disposal. Why would she want to kill drones? Especially in the same callous, procedurally improper ways that created the threat of Cyn to start out with?

Well…

Let’s not forget about the evil AI that massacred her family and the guests of their gala. AFTER Tessa took her in as an act of kindness, against her parents wishes. Parents who did seem to look down on her pretty severely, regularly chained her up in her room as punishment(you don’t install heavy duty, floor anchored chains for the occasional time out) and possibly kept her socially isolated???

That last point is pretty speculative, since a lot about the earth of N’s flashbacks screams post-apocalyptic vibes. Maybe there just aren’t a lot of humans left for Tessa to socialize with. Tessa’s dad reinforces this idea in his speech by listing “currently being alive” as an attribute the Elliots are known for. It could just as well be a meta joke(since they are killed in the next few seconds), so lacking more context, I hesitate to extrapolate from this point alone.

Anywho, back to Tessa’s callous drone murder. Even if her parents were crappy by the usual standards, she clearly didn’t want them/the other gala guests to die. She tried to save them by “murdering her a robo-child”. Idk, does this blacked out redacted image of Tessa in the aftermath of the massacre seem upset??

Reasonable assumption. So adult/older teen Tessa has changed the way she feels about drones after these traumatic events. Maybe she doesn’t outright hate them, but she views them from a colder, more pragmatic angle than she did in her younger years. Does she still feel empathy for them and the horrible mistreatment they suffer at the hands of humans? Probably. But she’s now aware of the danger they truly pose and has good reason to eliminate them to ensure the absolute solver mutation no longer has a pool of hosts in which to spread and evolve.

So why the callous drone murder at the end of episode 3? We know you’re supposed to follow a 2 step procedure for decommissioning drones. Software death via lethal injection of a kill program(sounds fun!), followed by hardware death via “core removal” to ensure the decommissioned drone doesn’t reboot with corrupted software and an “increased chance for future errors”.

Did she hastily kill this random drone to keep her arrival on copper 9 secret, foregoing procedure for the sake of urgency? If so, who is she keeping her presence secret from? Is it the remaining drone population of copper 9, who Cyn used to collapse the planet core and kill all humans there? Possibly, Uzi is a prime example of anti-human sentiment, and during Mr Doorman’s parent-teacher conference he mentioned being on a “kill all humans kick when he was her age”. Perhaps Tessa assumes all the c9 worker drones are hostile to humans.

When you start making assumptions about what characters are assuming, it’s generally a good time to stop and just accept you don’t have the answers 🫠 so that’s where I will cut that line of questioning short. That being said, I’m not quite done yet…

What’s with this shelf of small human skulls in Tessa’s room? Why are the trash robots she “rescues” her only friends? Do her parents chain her up in her room because they suck? Or… do they have reasons not yet revealed to us, the audience?

Tessa’s perception among most of the fan base is fairly positive and on the surface there’s good reason for this. She’s presented as peppy, compassionate(except toward that one worker drone, lmao), ~tenacious~ and resilient. Actions like salvaging drones from the dump and perceived displays of affection and warmth for the disassembly drones leave viewers with the impression that she’s a good, kind person.

There is, however, another light in which to view her actions, and it casts a shadow on the motives we may have assumed were pure up to this point.

While it’s easy to parse Tessa saving drones from the dump as an act of altruism, it can also be interpreted as sinister. It could be an example of a character with a savior complex; a power dynamic wherein the “savior” exerts control over those they “rescue” by taking advantage of their gratitude and using it in manipulative ways. If this is the case, Tessa’s motives take a sharp left turn, flipping from selfless and kind to egotistical and controlling.

The show actually gives us direct evidence of Tessa using manipulation to get her drones to do her bidding.

“It wants paid time off…”

This instance of her using corporate buzzwords to drive J into a rage strong enough for her to bite through metal chains. Or how about her outright lying to the drones at the start of episode 6? Asserting that her intention was to “burn to the ground” labs Cyn was interested in, while later that same episode revealing to N that her “true” purpose was to obtain a list of drones infected with the absolute solver?

Preeetty manipulative. She manipulated and/or coerced Doll as well, in order to obtain the keybug. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if come episode 7, she switches it up yet again, revealing a new manipulation or perhaps, finally, her real mission.

Tessa’s manipulation of the drones she supposedly cares about isn’t the only hint that she might have a savior complex or similar egocentric tendencies. She’s also shown that she’s not very respectful of the drones autonomy, another red flag that can signal a propensity for narcissism and the controlling behaviors associated with it.

N is the example this time.

Tessa’s signature greeting for N, which is to grab his face and swing him around with excitement that borders on aggression. Maybe it’s just me, but his expression doesn’t suggest it’s mutually enjoyed. Looks more to me like he’s uncomfortable and only humoring her pep because he feels like he has no choice… after all, none of Tessa’s “dumpster pets” want to let down their saving grace.

We see this same kind of contact again throughout episode 6, with Tessa grabbing N’s face as a greeting again, and also playing with his hair on the way down to cabin fever labs. The way Tessa interacts with the drones(J and V as well as N) shows that she sees them as objects in her possession, rather than friends, peers or their own individuals with unique thoughts, wants and feelings.

Uzi even calls her out on this very mindset at the end of episode 6 after Tessa asks her sardonically to “don’t date my robot, please.”

Granted, I’ve got no solid backing, just observation, speculation and a suspicious mind. Tessa could be a great person… “good” or “bad” though, she’ll definitely try to kill our main character sometime soon, so… yup. Killing even an anti-hero typically slots you into the bad guy category, even in a show where the moral lines between good and evil are so artfully blurred.

TLDR; I think there’s more to Tessa than meets the eye, and even though Cyn is still probably Murder Drones “big bad”, I feel like Tessa has an element of villainy to her that I hope will be further explored in canon.