#that *is* also very much a problem that should be addressed

[bonefall]

I personally like Thunder's prosthetic. Explained it to my friend (who does use a mobility device, a cane and wheelchair, and listens to me rant and infodump about BB) and they agreed, it's important to know that not every person needs what someone wants to give them. It's another example of "bad ableist person does a thing that hurts a disabled person because they are bad and ableist".

Clear Sky got Jagged Peak killed and would have killed Sunlit Frost! He would absolutely force his disabled son to be "normal" and present it like a privilege. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, it's special, why don't you want to be helped?"

Thunder Storm should toss it in Clear Sky's face. (I would say toss it into the river but we do not pollute waterways in this house)

Thank you for telling me this, and tell your friend I'm thanking them too! If they have anything else to add please forward what they have to say

Since BB!DOTC tackles some of the heaviest topics in the entire series because its canon equivalent is so dark, I think very carefully about what I do here and how I show it. I take feedback on its sensitive aspects very seriously. If I'm understanding the criticism properly, it's that I should avoid stigmatizing prosthetics by making sure Thunder Storm's not the only one with it-- which he's not! And I'll add even more.

I don't want to avoid something only because it's uncomfortable if the topic is important, and my portrayal is respectful. Ableism IS uncomfortable! There are some situations where a prosthetic is not wanted! I think the rejection of this particular one is both a good opportunity to show a type of ableism and ALSO is very fitting for the characters.

In BB!Clear Sky's mind, the villain, he's fixing an old mistake. He can't admit that he got Jagged Peak killed or take REAL accountability for it (though he will, occasionally, apologize insincerely), but deep in his bones, he knows what he did was cruel. He'll never tell anyone this because he doesn't really cognate it himself, but Thunder Storm NEEDS to take his gift.

If Thunder doesn't take it, it blows a hole in his newest story. You see, throwing Jagged Peak out was All That Could Have Been Done back then. It was a Tragedy and he simply Made A Hard Choice. He regrets it very much, But You Have To Understand.

But now? Now? Well, behold. Look at what he's accomplished since the tragic death of his little brother. His cats are well-fed, cared for, and stable enough to make such incredible advancements. If only Jagged Peak had been able to hold on longer, if only he could be here now, I could fix him.

Just like I can (MAKE YOU JUST LIKE ME) fix you.

"Everything I've ever done is for Jagged Peak. For Fluttering Wing. For you." Thunder Sky is SPECIAL, but if he rejects any gift, tries to turn down the "privileges" offered to him, in an instant that becomes ungratefulness and arrogance. He both forces him to be special, and then leverages it against him if it's rejected. "Spoiled brat, doesn't appreciate what I've worked so hard to give him."

It all goes back to him and his own guilt. He can NEVER be wrong. He can't accept his family doesn't have to be "normal" or reflect his own ability. He won't see himself as a bully, let alone a murderer. It was never about his son's comfort or finding out what Thunder Storm wants or needs, it was about his own ego.

...All that said I'm still taking feedback if there's anything else I should keep in mind, or if anyone has a counter point, especially if you also have experience here.

(In the interest of having a link trail for posterity, here's the critique/call for feedback this is in response to)

[codenamesazanka]

Shigaraki/Tenko wanting to destroy the false sense of peace All Might and Heroes created

.⬇️.

Shigaraki/Tenko wanting to destroy everything that lead to the existence of that house, which he conceptualizes as the embodiment of rejection and injustice in the world. Be a Hero for the Villains.

.⬇️.

AFO basically literally created that house

.⬇️.

Shigaraki/Tenko helps defeat AFO

.⬇️.

Deku telling him 'you already destroyed it' is... apparently Shigaraki/Tenko having finally gotten rid of the true cause of (his) rejection and injustice? main antagonist's big problem that represents an overarching major issue of the story/in-universe society... solved? (main antagonist's big problem that represents an overarching major issue of the story/in-universe society not actually being the problem he thought it was but now also solved?)

.⬇️.

No longer a need for there to be a Hero for the Villains, Shigaraki/Tenko dies.

.⬇️.

Heroes not to be blamed in the first place. also fuck everyone else and all other 'actual' outcasts I guess.

[championofelysium]

I think when he was younger Hades actually was very similar to Zagreus, but the mix of horrible parents, responsibility of being an eldest son to two younger brothers (and their only real father figure), and the later responsibility + lack of sunshine + general doom and gloom of the underworld turned him into the person he is now

[yellowocaballero]

it feels like the relationship between Jake and Khonshu is still like in GLJ lmao. is there any details between them? i think Khonshu in this au will be less manipulative. am i wrong? looking forward to your new chapter next week!

Hello! We will actually get a lot of details between them next week, so I can't say too much.

What I can say is that there is a difference, but it's subtle. And I think it wouldn't truly come out until later on in this timeline. Truly, I don't think he has to be manipulative. Jake's pretty pliable. Very early on he clearly established Layla as an emotional hostage, and Jake's accepted that. Jake's the protector for everybody and nobody's the protector for him, with no Marc to Steven to take any emotional loads, and Khonshu's the closest he has. Jake's machismo in a recurring thing, and part of that machismo is 'well, a guy's gotta do things he doesn't like to protect his family', and this is just that. His identity as 'Perfect Guy' involves being a perfect husband, but it also involves being a perfect weapon. A lot of his self-esteem and ego is in his work with Khonshu - hence the enthusiasm over the priest stuff lol. And as is pretty obvious, Jake feels like if he doesn't have the Perfect Guy stuff then he has nothing - if Khonshu doesn't protect him nobody will - so...

As is fairly obvious through Jake's own narration, he is very, very deeply in denial about his relationship with Khonshu. And even the part of him that understands, takes a very 'well can't do anything about it so might as well like it' attitude. Sad attitude, but it is Jake in a nutshell - the system couldn't avoid the violence, so Jake stepped up and became an alter who enjoyed the violence to ease the emotional burden. And when he doesn't enjoy it, he bears it. The violence is emotional, but it is a violence. In best life there's pushback on this, there's other people and other experiences saying 'hey this is bad', but he doesn't have that here in anybody but Layla.

Also unlike in best life, Jake's never even attempted a normal life. His life is Khonshu's work, and it doesn't really occur to him to want any differently until the very end of the story. He would stand up to Khonshu for anybody's sake but his own. But it's just himself rattling around up there, so there's really no point. So asking if Khonshu is less manipulative is kind of hard to answer, because he doesn't really need to be.

That's all the bad stuff about their relationship and ignores all of the more complex stuff, which is how Khonshu, like, has Long Term Avatar Care in mind (finally.) and tries to take care of Jake. And how they're actually friends, and how Jake actually loves the work, and how I think Khonshu likes him as a person. It's just also abusive. The fact that Khonshu actually tries to take care of Jake and keep him emotionally intact, and the fact that he never actually listens to Jake on how to do that and as a result doesn't budge from abusive behavior, creates bad results and complex feelings. Khonshu: Tries! But Not Very Hard! And Is Bonkers Years Old And Very Bad At Changing Opinions! Bad For Jake, This Is!

You'll see it next chapter. Thanks for reading!

[vers-1]

Also music I’ve been really into lately

[vamptastic]

morrocan architecture so cool so sexy so mathematically grounded so good for tropical environment <3

[rileyslibrary]

You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.

There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.

———————————————————————

You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.

“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.

But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.

“Simon?”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to do it right now.”

“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.

“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.

“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.

“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.

He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.

“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”

He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.

He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.

Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.

But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.

To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.

You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.

“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”

He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.

“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.

“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”

“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”

Simon processes your words and nods.

You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.

“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.

“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”

He thinks about it for a while.

“Am I doing that?” He asks.

You slowly nod with a gentle smile.

“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.

“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”

He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.

“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”

You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.

“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”

He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.

“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.

“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”

He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.

“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”

He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.

“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.

———————————————————————

[toastywindow]

.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

[creekfiend]

I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!

My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,

The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.

Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.

Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.

One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.

If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.

It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.

Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone

[doberbutts]

i think people mostly just have an issue with the persistent centering of men when it comes to feminist issues. sure, men often suffer under the patriarchy as well, but they dont suffer as much as women do and actually have much to lose from dismantling the system (compared to what they would gain from doing so), so just highlighting this fact doesnt do much to further feminist goals

that being said i do think its something that should go acknowledged lest we fall into the manhating hole, which is obviously counterproductive

Personally I don't think it's "centering men" to acknowledge the ways the patriarchy wields misogyny as a weapon against the very people who benefit the most from misogyny in the first place, because if nothing else it can show everyone that maybe beating the shit out of little boys who try makeup and nail polish and teaching them that anything feminine is a sign of weakness is also having a direct impact on creating adult men who want to kill any sign of femininity in front of them and who think anyone feminine is less than human.

It used to be pretty common theory to acknowledge the cause-and-effect happening here, and to strive to treat the next generation of little boys with more openness towards femininity alongside the little girls learning that they did not have to conform to gender roles. Not just having well-written female protagonists but also making sure that it wasn't just girls watching and reading, to show the boys something more than the sex dolls only existing for wank material in other media.

That's not centering men. That's making sure that we're addressing the full problem instead of only half of it.

[ladyloveandjustice]

So I have no stake in ships in Avatar the Last Airbender, I do not have any real ships for the show. But when I was looking in Katara's tag for art and stuff, I saw this reoccuring claim that Katara always supported Aang with his problems and feelings, but that Aang never supported her back with hers.

And I don't care about the ships, but I do really like the friendships in Avatar, and that bothers me. It's a slight on Aang, but also on Katara (implying she wouldn't stand up for herself and break it off if a friend was all take and no give, which doesn't fit her personality at all.)

Aang does support Katara whenever he gets the chance, which is unfortunately few and far between because Katara seems to have a hard time leaning on the people she cares about and talking in depth about her own trauma and feelings about it, though she will do so when she literally doesn't care what the person thinks about her (and both times she opened up to Zuko about her Mom initially were her lashing out at him and not caring what he thought about her in return).

This would be something that would need to be addressed for a romantic relationship between them to truly work, and I imagine it would be part of the journey of finding a way to stay together, but it's very much not Aang's fault. And as I said, when he gets a chance to support her she does. Since I just recently rewatched most of the series, have a list of those times!

-His first time being supportive of her is literally a half hour after they first meet. As soon as she tells him about wanting more waterbending experience, he enthusiastically offers to fly all the way to the north pole so they can find her a master. And this very clearly means a lot to her.

-I don't think Aang knew how supportive of her he was being here, but there's the "I haven't done this since I was a kid" "You still are a kid!' exchange. As much as people accuse Aang of seeing Katara as his Mom (he's literally the one character who doesn't express that he does in The Runaway btw and I think that's for a reason) their first interaction establishes that he sees her as a kid, just like him, and think she should have fun like a kid does. This must have been huge for Katara, who'd been forced to take on adult responsibilities at a young age, who resented having to hold the family together, who thought her childhood was over. Aang helped her have fun and be the kid she is, and he'll continue to do so.

-When she lost her mother's necklace (And Zuko subsequently stole it) he was very concerned for her feelings and seemed to immediately understand the weight of that loss, due to his own experiences with loss. Not only did he make her a new necklace to wear as a way to comfort her, as soon as he saw Zuko had it he said "you're giving that back to me" and risked being hit by Zuko in his attempts to grab it. Then he gave it back to her and she was ecstatic!

-He was so supportive of her during the waterbending scroll episode it's actually ridiculous, despite how she lashed out at him. It's unclear if he actually understood she was upset or if this was just his unwavering respect for her coming out, but when she was upset that he learned the first move faster than her he said "well you didn't have such a great teacher!" and it clearly makes her feel better for a bit. He immediately forgives her for lashing out at him, doesn't judge her at all for stealing the waterbending scroll, or for accidentally dragging them into trouble. He, in fact, goes out of the way to reassure her, looking happy at the chance to work together and reminding her they need two waterbenders. And he appreciates her joke at the end (he's just straight up being simp (affectionate) there, and I get it).

-When Pakku won't teach her he immediately denounces him as wrong and unfair and is willing to sacrifice his own education (which he needs to save the world) because he won't stand for it. He remains upset about it even after Katara persuades him, tries to secretly show her what Pakku taught him, and cheers her on when she fights him.

-When she's crying over Jet's death, he's the first one to notice and reach out to her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder and drawing her into a hug (that becomes a group hug). She smiles and clearly feels comforted. They probably talked about it offscreen too (but this cannot be shown as they would need to directly acknowledge his death to do so)

-He's pretty much always praising her as a teacher, and when she grumbles about him not calling her Sifu, he goes out of his way to call her that.

-He notices that she's mad at her Dad and asks her about it, but she deflects

-He looks really sad when he has to remind her she has to take off her mother's necklace for their Fire Nation disguises, again it's something he very much seems to empathize with her about, he understands the weight of what it means to her.

-He not only doesn't judge her for lying during the Painted Lady saga, but praises her and enthusiastically helps her commit ecoterrorism.

-Both he and Sokka move to comfort her when she's crying after the bloodbending fiasco. Most of the comforting of her happens offscreen, which I do think is a shame, and a contrast to how Aang is handled- but it's more of a "he's the main character" thing, since the same happens for Sokka as well (I'm sure Katara and Aang talked to him about Yue's death and at least tried to comfort him, but we don't get to see that).

-He was trying to support her during the Southern Raiders ep, whether you believe he did it well or not, both according to his beliefs and cultural values and by trying to emulate the ways she's talked HIM down from revenge and hatred in the past. He specifically brings up those two incidents- losing his people and losing Appa- where she stepped in to keep him from losing himself to rage. As this post notes, he also specifically echoes her phrasing from when she was urging him not to lose himself to the Avatar state (she says "watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary" and he echoes "you're feeling unbelievable pain and rage" while talking to her in this ep.)

It's not just the air nomads he's trying to emulate here, but her. Just like Katara doesn't want to see him consumed by hatred and pain, he wants the same for her. His concern is not for her mother's killer, but for her, he fears this will hurt her, just like her concern was always for him and how this would hurt him in those times he was raging.

He wants to do for her what she did for him. But, Katara is not him. She is not someone who will be talked down by someone else when she is grieving, angry, and looking for revenge. Nobody can stop her when she sets her mind to it. She needs to wrestle with whether to kill him and she needs to come to her own conclusions, because she's the only one that can stop her. And Aang realizes that. He says it's a journey she'll have to take on her own, that she needs to face him doesn't stand in her way.

(I wonder if it kind of hurt, deep down, that he couldn't reach her the way she always reached him. I wonder if he felt upset that he couldn't find the right words like she did for him. But I don't think there were any right words. She needed him to step back. It was her choice to make. So he did.)

And in the end, he was correct that she didn't want to do it. She did choose that based on her own feelings and values.

His assumption Katara not killing the guy = forgiveness is definitely him just kind of applying his assumptions and values, but when she says she doesn't forgive him, he doesn't like, judge her or anything that we can see.

So yeah, quite a few examples! It can feel lopsided because more attention is paid to Aang and Katara's personality affects things.

Katara is both open about her emotions and not. She's someone who will look after other's feelings but not really discuss her own pain with people she cares about, until it all builds up and bursts out.

And it's not surprising she's most concerned about Aang, if my friend had recently (from his perspective) survived a genocide where he lost everyone he loved and was now tasked with saving the world at twelve years old, I'd be pretty worried about him and want to support him too! Aang goes through a lot by virtue of being the protagonist, he has the most pressure on him, he's routinely in the most danger, he literally dies for a few minutes. It's not surprising Katara has more opportunities to comfort him, but he unfailingly supports her in any of her problems of goals (when they're not murder) when he can.

I do think there's some missed opportunities to explore Katara and develop their relationship, but it doesn't make Aang a bad, unsupportive friend, or Katara his Mom and not his peer.

[norrizzandpia]

if we're adding more to the Oscar verse can we please get a peek into the time when they weren't together but everyone could feel it coming 🥺🫣🥹 ALSO BESTIE OUR BOYS POSTING ICE BATH PHOTOS HAD ME KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING

BRO I KNOW EXACTLY WHICH ICE BATH PICS YOURE TALKING ABT AND WHEN I TELL YOU THOSE CAME OUT AND I DIED, I. DIED.

I love McLaren so much for that post

ANYWAYSSSSS this is from my older Oscar social media au titled best friends to benefits to lovers.

It’s basically a prequel because it takes place before they got together and were just bsfs with benefits

Just Benefits Right Now (OP81)

Summary: It’s common knowledge they love each other. Just not to them - even when they’re sleeping together.

Warnings: fluff, pining, YEARNING, sexual conversations and innuendos, Oscar and yn being dumbasses, language

Note: this is very much casual by Chappell roan and risk by Gracie Abram’s coded

“Can I be honest?” Oscar asks from the other side of the table at breakfast. Y/n sits staring at him, a certain feeling in her stomach that gnaws uncomfortably at her insides.

She nods, “Always.”

He takes a deep breath and it almost feels as though her body is anticipating something she’s always been waiting to hear. What she’s meant to be anticipating, she has no idea.

“How would this be a good idea?” His eyes avert from hers and her stomach finally settles. Oh. Her discomfort was linked to the massive, life-changing scenario she presented Oscar the night before. Friends with benefits. What could go wrong? They loved each other and hadn’t slept with anyone in months, it was getting to the both of them. They wanted the best for each other and each could lend a helping hand to the other’s problem. No strings attached. That’s what she had said.

She shrugs, “We’re both antsy from not getting laid. This could take the edge off. It might even help your racing.”

He laughs and Y/n smiles, “Can I think about it?”

“You asked that last night and I agreed. That hasn’t changed.” She reaches over the table and lays her hand over his. Her soft thumb rubs over his skin and his whole body warms.

The warmth makes him give in, “You know what? I’m down. We’ve been friends for years, nothing could change that.”

She nods and smiles, but there’s an unsettling hesitation to her agreement. Pushing it aside, Y/n giggles as she asks him when they should fully go through with the new plan. There’s a slight blush to their faces as they discuss and they deduce it’s from the unusual topic.

The stirring stomachs and slight relief filling their bodies is not something their minds decide to address.

—

Lando hears the giggling from down the hall. His light chuckling as he stands completely alone makes him look insane as engineers pass by him, but the man has never been one to shy from social anxiety.

His knuckles rap against the door softly, trying not to disturb the friends in their fun. The volume decreases after a few seconds as Oscar’s heavy footsteps meet the threshold. It opens and Lando shoves his way through, Y/n rolling her eyes at him.

“Come on in, Lan.” Her tone is dry and sarcastic, but Lando sees the sparkle in her eye. Sure, the sparkle was usually bigger when directed at Oscar, but he knew that was a sign of her adoration nonetheless.

He plops down next to her, his arm around her shoulders, as Oscar closes the door. Amidst their greetings, Lando misses the way Oscar’s face contorts into something akin to jealousy at how cuddly his friend and his best friend seem to be. He shakes it off. Y/n is single despite their plans to find each other in white sheets. If she wants to flirt with Lando, so be it.

It still irks him though.

“We have an interview to get to, Osc. PR is making me come to summon you. They seem to think I’ll be able to lure you away from Y/n quick enough.” Lando explains, his eyes drifting between the two. Something about the way Oscar’s hands twitch at his sides and Y/n’s fingers pick at the skin around her nails tips him off to the tension. Tension between Oscar and Y/n is not surprising considering their confusing relationship, but this is more sexual. It’s not even as if that’s surprising, Lando’s just never seen it play out in front of him before. Drunk Oscar is quite open about how attractive he thinks Y/n is, there’s no doubt he’s had suggestive thoughts about her. Same goes for Y/n. Drunk words are sober thoughts, no?

He’s almost contemplating the possibility of them having found each other on an alcohol-loving night, leading to clothes on the floor, but the strained nature of the two makes him second guess it. If they would have had sex together, Oscar would’ve never let her go. Lando knows that.

What’s this then? What’s with the new wandering eyes and brighter smiles? Or the recently discovered confidence to make their feelings so obvious?

Lando practically wipes the drool off of Oscar’s chin as he stands from the couch in the corner of the room, untangling himself from Y/n, and grabbing Oscar’s arm to lead him out of the room.

“Have fun! Be quick!” Y/n shouts as they leave. Oscar nods and smiles at her before the door closes fully, yelling back about how fast he would be.

The exchange is too flirty compared to the usual Oscar and Y/n. The cheeky grins and reassurance on how short of a time they would have to be apart makes Lando question Oscar immediately.

“Did you two fuck or something?” His hands are up in the air, completely lost at the two. Lando has always wanted the friends to wake the fuck up and confess how much they’ve always loved each other, but this doesn’t feel like that. This feels lustful and not at all like how he would expect the two to act after having found out about love shared.

The dreaded words leave Oscar and Lando almost claws his eyes out, “No, we didn’t. But, we’re talking about, like a friends with benefits type thing.”

Lando halts, “No, Oscar. You guys can’t be friends with benefits.”

Oscar’s eyebrows scrunch together and he puts his hands on his hips, “Why not? Who are you to tell us what we can and can’t do?”

Lando groans, “Because! I’ve been where you are, in love with someone and taking anything I could get to be closer with them. It never ends well. Especially friends with benefits.”

“Who said anything about being in love?!” Oscar’s eyes practically bulge out his head, his arms flinging out by his sides.

Lando goes quiet and his head cocks to the side. No words are spoken, none can be said. Lando refuses to tell Oscar how he feels, but he also refuses to lie. It’s a look of plea, please be serious right now, but that’s as far as they get. Oscar turns around, clearly frustrated, and walks down the stairs to where they’re needed. Lando lets him go, putting space between them, and stares at the picture of them hanging on the wall beside him. Taken in Suzuka with their trophies, their smiles are so big. Lando wants Oscar to be that happy and stress-free again, but, then again, when was Oscar ever?

Y/n and Oscar have known each other for years, this cycle having always existed. No matter how many times Lando could try to say it, try to make Oscar wake up, he wouldn’t get it. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t come to terms with it.

Because of that, this friends with benefits plan was destined to fail miserably.

—

The door slams shut behind them and quiet fills the room. Y/n and Oscar stand side by side in his apartment, a translucent look to their skin.

They shuffle to his room, careful not to wake his roommates. The next slamming is Oscar’s personal door, solidifying the start of their attempt at sleeping together. His hand gently finds hers, but neither dare to look at the other. They stare at his bed and link fingers.

“What do we do now?” She whispers. It’s a stupid question, she knows that and so does he, but he doesn’t say it. He simply squeezes her palm and finally turns so his body stands in front of hers.

His long fingers play with the sleeve of her shirt, “Can I take this off?”

HIs deep brown eyes bear into hers, helping her get more comfortable with the situation, and she nods.

“I’m gonna need words, Y/n.” His lips kiss her ear, his voice soft.

Her breath is hot against the skin of his neck, “Yes, Oscar.”

And with that, the first item of clothing falls to the floor. Neither of them is prepared for whatever transpires between them. From the way Oscar holds her to the gentleness of their eyes, things stray away from what they had prepared.

No strings attached. Casual. Friends with benefits. This is what this was. That’s all. But, they were beginning to find out it was hard being casual when the other was someone they had cherished for so long, someone who had taken residence in the other’s heart. Oscar admired her and her strength. She admired his sympathy. Now they admired the way the other touched, the way the other sounded. At their most vulnerable, the friends found a gray area. A gray area that had always been there, but was only now so obvious with how naked they were.

Nonetheless, they were still friends, and still claimed the title as friends with benefits. Casual, no strings attached was some sort of chant in their minds when they both agreed it was best if Y/n didn’t sleep over, that she leave the minute they were done. And when he closed the door on her, hearing her walk down the hallway and out of the building, Oscar closed his eyes and breathed.

The weight on his heart made it hard to continue the mantra.

—

This was the weirdest Lando had seen Oscar and Y/n. Their touches were fleeting as if once their skin met, they realized what they were doing and pulled away. Usually, they drank in the softness of the other like it was something that would be gone tomorrow. Now, it’s like they’re nervous to cross some sort of line.

It clicks in Lando’s mind.

The line’s already been crossed, forcing them into unknown territory. His warnings and pleas for logical thinking went ignored by Oscar. Friends with benefits it was.

He looms over the two, “Oscar, I need to talk to you.”

Y/n and Oscar exchange a look, something harsh in Lando’s tone, but he goes with the man anyway.

Lando drags him by the arm to a small room out of the way, closing the door and turning around to stare at Oscar.

“What?” He asks, but he already knows. He’s sweating under Lando’s glare.

Lando folds his arms across his chest, “You’re not dumb, Oscar. You know this isn’t going to go well.”

Oscar scoffs, “You don’t know that! It could go anyway! We’ll stay friends. It’ll be fine. Once one of us finds someone else, we’ll stop.”

“And what happens then? When you have to see her with another guy, knowing what it’s like to have her that way? Or vice versa?” Lando counters. He takes a step toward Oscar.

Oscar takes a step back, “It wouldn’t be that way.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’d stop having sex with her and then you’d just completely go back to being platonic with her? You’d know what it’d be like to have her that way and all of a sudden, you think you’d be able to turn it off? On top of everything that started before this?”

This time, Oscar doesn’t argue or act stupid when Lando mentions the supposed feelings he believes Oscar to have. At this point, Oscar can’t bring himself to admit to anything. He can’t say he doesn’t love her nor can he say he does. He can’t say they’re just casual nor can he say that they are. It’s been a few weeks of having her naked under him and it’s all he can think about. He loves knowing that side of her, having her trust him enough to give him that side. Though, he doesn’t know how serious it all is to her because of her lack of interest in staying after. He wants her to, doesn’t want her to feel as though he’s using her, but she’s so adamant.

It’s fine, he tells himself. They’re just friends, she can leave whenever she wants.

Still, Lando’s words cut into his skin, sharp and painful. He’s right, Oscar won’t ever be able to unsee her unraveling with him, but he wants to believe he can. He wants to believe that he still wants them to be just friends as they get into all of this, that he’s fine with continuing to be friends with benefits.

The idea of her being with another man, not just in bed, makes his skin crawl. To experience and be forced to be cordial with a man that has what’s hi- what he knows now isn’t something he thinks he could do.

In all his stubbornness, Oscar can’t let Lando be right. “Yes. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

It’s already hard to say goodbye to her now. Saying goodbye to her completely in that sense sounds impossible.

Lando looks at him as if he knows it too. He sighs, “Alright, fine. I believe you. But, if you ever need someone to talk to, if you’re ever confused…”

The two share a glance and Oscar nods, “I know. You’re there.”

When he emerges from the room, Y/n is staring intensely at the door. He sits down next to her and she leans forward. Her perfume replaces the rationality in his head.

“What was that all about?” She whispers, looking up at him with her kind eyes.

He smiles, dimples deep and permanent around her, “Just racing stuff. Strategies we need to keep quiet and all that.”

She nods and it seems as though the perfume hasn’t completely left him mentally helpless.

—

“Fuck, Y/n.” Oscar pants as he rolls off her. Their fingers lace together under the blankets and Y/n’s face turns to the side to smile at him.

She doesn’t move from her spot, giving Oscar hope she won’t leave, but when her body slugs over the side of the bed and begins getting dressed, his actions forget to check in with his head.

His hand grasps hers tightly, holding her from getting too far away. She looks down, her eyes to their hands before moving to his eyes. They’re dilated and big, puppy-like.

She runs her other hand through his hair and he sighs, “Please, stay.”

The two words are soft and hang in the air around her. They’re daunting, suggesting a break in the meticulous rules they set to protect themselves. She’s so close to saying no, to completely running from the situation and Oscar himself, but he holds her so tight, like he knows she’s slipping away, it’s hard to reject him.

Her gaze moves to the door and Oscar holds her tighter, “Y/n, it doesn’t mean anything, remember? I just don’t want to be alone after the race.”

Ah, the race. For fucks sake. Of course, he only wants her to stay because of the bad race he had. How could she be so stupid? It doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t supposed to mean anything. It doesn’t to him. He only seeks comfort in his best friend, the one person he’s always looked to when things didn’t go right. Y/n falls back into his bed, defeated. Some part of her, even though it had been scary, wanted him to want something more. She wanted him to break the rules with her. Yet, she lives in a world where the only way she can get close to Oscar in the way she craves is through this. This horrifying, painful excuse of a relationship, a friendship. Whatever you wanted to call it. When all is said and done, he’ll go back to dating women he loves and she’ll live with the memories of him above her, pleading with her to stay for reasons she hates.

To know she had been the one to suggest this, to get herself into this complicated situation, hurts the most. There is a world where she doesn’t know this. A world where Oscar doesn’t hold her in the way he is or touch her in the way he does. That world seems less cruel.

Though, she finds herself here. Oscar’s chin on top of her head as his breathing evens out, sleep finding him. His arms are wrapped around her body and his chest meets hers every time it expands with air.

What she wants is to not be here, not experience him in this way, but it’s too good to give up. To stop all of this too soon would be denying her heart something she’s wanted ever since she met him years ago. She couldn’t ever bring herself to do that.

So, she keeps her eyes open, fighting off the sleep she wants so bad, so when he ends this, she’ll remember what it was like to sleep next to him.

—

Small snippets of music from TikTok play from the phones of Oscar and Y/n as they lay against each other in his room. A video of a couple laughing together as they kiss and cook in a kitchen loops itself on her screen. She stares at them, wondering if that’s what people see when they see her and Oscar. Knowing what her friends and family have said in regard to the way Oscar and her act toward one another, she pictures him looking at her with this much love.

Surely, she always tells them, if he looked at her with such care, she would notice. What she can’t tell them is that the way he looks at her is pure lust, something that’s self-explanatory as they find each other every night to feed certain urges.

“You’ve been watching that for a while.” Oscar says, his hand trailing from her arm to her hair and pushing it out of the way. She sits up, his touch being so hard to stomach with the thoughts rushing in her mind.

The noise from his phone stops as he turns it off and throws it to the side, suddenly concerned for how stoic Y/n is. He sits up next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Again, his touch is too much to take, so she moves from the bed and stands at its foot.

Now, Oscar’s really worried.

“What’s wrong?” He clambers over to her, sitting in front of her and staring up at her nervous face.

It all comes out like word-vomit, “What if I’m never loved?”

She doesn’t even know where that notion comes from, but it’s a genuine worry. It always has been for her, just one that’s gone unsaid.

Oscar reels back, “Don’t say that.”

She huffs, “Why?”

He’s very clearly speechless, his mouth hanging open as he scoffs. “Because.”

“Why because?” She tries again. For some reason, knowing Oscar still doesn’t want her in the way she does him even when he has her sexually makes her panic that no man could want her if one has her body and still doesn’t choose to love her. It’s drowning and stressful, but, at this moment, all Y/n sees is her best friend, not the man she sleeps with, and she seeks his reassurance.

Oscar takes a breath, “Because, of course, you’ll be loved, Y/n. It’s easy to love you. You’ll find the one and it won’t be hard for them to love you.”

What if I don’t want the one, she thinks.

“How do you know that?” She counters, tears pricking her eyes.

Oscar visibly softens, his words coming out faster than he likes, “Because I love you.”

The three words are something she’s heard from him multiple times, but now, with the frequent benefits, she finds herself searching for more meaning. Three words she has wanted so badly to shift away from platonic and to romantic begin to with the way he looks at her. It’s as if the world falls away and what is left is only her. She watches the brown eyes dilate completely, only black color being left to be seen. She watches him stare at her with the utmost respect and sincerity.

This can’t be friends, can it?

“You love me in a friend way, Oscar.” She clarifies, hoping for him to give her something that suggests what’s unfolding in front of her eyes.

He hardens immediately, “Yeah, but I still love you. If I love you as platonically as I do, it won’t be hard for someone to love you romantically.”

She stares at him. He mistakes pain for confusion.

“Think about it like this,” He begins, “You love me platonically. But, it’s easy for you to see someone loving me romantically because of how much you love me just as I am. Platonic love can easily find itself to be romantic love.”

She misses his last sentence and the underlying meaning of it because she’s too hung up on the one component he misses in his analogy.

That she loves him. Not platonically, but romantically.

—

The next week, Y/n can’t bring herself to see Oscar. Multiple excuses of being busy or having some sort of appointment to go to, she dodges his every try to see her. Her realization that she’s fully in love with him hit her hard and it must’ve been clear to Oscar with the way he pestered her after she fled his apartment that day. In a heap of tears and anxiety, Y/n mumbled some random excuse about needing to leave and practically ran from Oscar when he tried to question her. He was confused, but tried to leave it at the fact that she probably got upset over her emotional confession and just wanted to be alone. He tried, but he still found himself wandering to the possibility she got upset over the fact that he was focusing so heavily on his (made up) platonic love for her.

Remembering the one person that had warned him about the mess he would find himself in, Oscar calls Lando.

After two rings, the British accent fills the speaker.

“Is everything okay?” Lando asks, as if he already knows.

Oscar is quiet for a moment before calmly speaking, “I haven’t seen Y/n in a week.”

There’s a small sigh on the other end of the phone, “Why do I need to know that, Oscar?”

“Because you told me you’d always be there for me if I ever got confused.”

“So, you’re confused?”

“Yes.”

“About her?”

“I love her, Lando.”

What once seemed to be the whispered gossip of the paddock is now a firm fact as Oscar finally admits to something everyone had always suspected.

Lando tries to hide the smile in his voice, but Oscar hears it anyway. “And what do you want to do with that information?”

Oscar rubs a hand over his face, “I don’t know.”

Lando grunts, “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. The last time we spoke she ran out of my apartment after I had spoken about how much I loved her platonically. That could either mean she got upset that I seemed to only love her platonically or she noticed the way I was adamant in that I loved her just as a friend that she realized I did love her romantically and panicked. She either loves me or she doesn’t and I can’t tell.” Oscar rambles. His palms are sweating and it almost feels as though his entire life is falling apart in front of him. Admitting what he just did either means losing the one person he values most in his life or finally getting to experience love the way it should be.

Lando smiles, thinking how cute this all is as he witnesses a massive love story for himself, “I think you should just tell her, Osc.”

Oscar laughs, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? That’s the advice you promised you’d always be there to give me when I was fucking completely lost in my life?”

Lando nods, “Yep. Now follow it. Thanks.” He ends the call before Oscar can grill him on why he’s so confident in Y/n loving him back that Oscar’s only action to do is tell her how he feels.

The man is left to stare at his phone, his Lock Screen to be more specific. A picture of Y/n and him after his sprint win. The sparkles in her eyes, the ones he always loved from afar, are the most prominent here compared to every other time he’s gotten them photographed. It’s the reason he set it as his background.

His inner monologue, reminding him of why this photo sat proudly on his phone, is what pushes him to pick up his coat, rush from his home, and delete his train ticket.

The ticket that was meant to get him to the city where the hotel he would be staying at for the SIlverstone Grand Prix was. The ticket that ensured he raced, did his job, gone from his phone.

In the back of his mind were the texts Y/n sent him, telling him they shouldn’t meet because he needed to prepare for the race. Knowing she used that as a way to distance herself from him, whether that was because she loved him or didn’t, he needed to know why. If she didn’t love him, at least he tried but, if she did, what a world he would get to be acquainted with.

After all, he’s always had to fight for the things he loves.

—

The pounding on her door makes Y/n grab a knife. It’s so late at night, the only person who would reasonably be at her door is Oscar but, after all her deflections, she knows it’s not him.

Or so she thought.

Oscar stands with his head held high, but it plummets when he sees her grasp on the weapon.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n! What the fuck?!” He yelps, jumping away from the door with his hands up.

She scoffs, “What do you mean?! What’re you doing here? Your train leaves in like five hours! You should be asleep or packing!”

She’s panicked. He can’t be here. The majority of her is so susceptible to just giving in and telling him how much she loves everything about him. Being around him means jeopardizing what little she has.

Oscar shakes his head, “I deleted my ticket. I’m not going.”

The knife clatters to her feet and Oscar screams out. She shushes him before ushering him inside whilst looking outside, making sure he didn’t disturb any of her neighbors. When they’re comfortable inside with the door closed, she whips around and jabs a finger in his chest, “Why did you delete your ticket?!”

He grabs her wrists, stopping her hitting, “Because I needed to see you. You’ve been blowing me off all week.”

She rolls her eyes, “Because I didn’t want to blow you off all week.”

He gapes at her, loosening his grip on her. She moves away from him, picking up the knife and putting it back in the drawer.

“Y/n, I don’t understand. Everything was fine until that day in my room when you started talking about not being loved.” He says, a hand over his face in despair.

She shakes her head, “It’s always been not fine, Oscar. You just never noticed.”

He meets her eyes and he snaps, “What do you mean?!”

She turns around, another sign of her rejection of him, “I’m not prepared to have this conversation with you.”

“Not prepared or just scared?” He counters, hands on his hips as he stares at her back.

She doesn’t respond, giving him the moment to explain why he’s even here in the first place.

“Well, I’ll let you know that I’ve always been scared. Scared of the way you make me feel, of what it means to be around you and love you as much as I do.” He breathes for a few seconds, letting the previous tension dissipate as she turns around to look him in the eye, “I love you, Y/n. Sleeping with you, being friends with benefits, was always just going to be a way for me to get a taste of you that way until you decided to end things. And, now, it feels like you’re trying to end things and all it’s done is make me realize just how gone I am for you. I kept telling myself that once you decided to be done with our casualness, I would be able to turn it off, but that time has seemingly come and I can’t do it. I love you too much.”

They stare at each other for a minute before Y/n smiles softly, “You love me too much?”

He nods, taking a step toward her, “Not platonically. Very much romantically. I think I always have.”

She meets him in the middle and his arms find her waist, hers around his neck, “Oscar Jack Piastri.”

He smiles down at her, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.”

Her fingers tangle at the bottom of his hair, forcing his head down to meet her lips. They move together softly, the first kiss that’s openly filled with love. When they pull back, Y/n whispers against his lips, “I love you so much.”

His eyes closed, relishing in the moment, he whispers back, “It’s never been hard loving you.”

“I wasn’t blowing you off this week because I didn’t want to blow you off.” She giggles, he does with her, “I just thought I would never have you the way I truly wanted and I couldn’t deal with it.”

He moves his head away from her slightly, catching her eyes quickly. They dilate as they look at her and Y/n is finally able to know it’s with love.

Oscar cradles her face, “You’ve always had me the way you wanted. You just never saw it. But, now you do, and you’ll never not have me the way you want. I’ll always be yours.”

And she would always be his.

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured (#2)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: P0rn with plot! ~5.9k words. Continuation of PT 1. Mutual pining, angst, fluff, and smut. Injured Zoro gives (afab) reader a hand this time... Or a tongue (oral sex, f. receiving). I inserted an asterisk (*) where the smut starts, so feel free to skip the plot! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

Giving Zoro A Hand When He's Injured (Pt. II)

The day after you had “given Zoro a hand,” aka, a hand job, Chopper was feeling well enough to take over your nursing duties. If you were being honest with yourself, you were disappointed. You’d miss Zoro’s feigned crankiness, you’d miss seeing him blush, and you’d also miss being able to touch his chest and arms every time you’d change his ice packs (among other things…). Caring for him for those five days was eye-opening—Zoro seemed to actually have a soft side. Or at least, you thought you saw a glimpse of it.

Coupled with your disappointment at not having an excuse to be close to him, you were tickled when you remembered how vulnerable he was with you. Zoro had been so forthright and sweet with you during the whole endeavor, and to top it off, he had admitted how badly he needed you. The last time you saw him, he was practically begging you to fuck him. Remembering how he moaned your name made your heart skip a beat.

It’s safe to say that Zoro felt the same way. He cursed himself for how much he liked you, and because of that he was second guessing your interactions. As he sat in his room bored, and when he was given the green light to walk around deck a couple days later, his internal dialogue was running haywire. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings, and whether or not you reciprocated them. It’s peculiar, how flustered and timid he was with these things. You’d think he’d be strong and confident in this area, given that he was THE Roronoa Zoro, but he was quite the opposite. Because he was preoccupied with strength, with training, and with being the best swordsman the world has never known, he neglected his softer side when it came to women and emotions in general. And he wasn’t the most experienced, obviously.

Even after you had cared for him so tenderly, even after you were so close with him, moaned his name, had your hands wrapped around his cock, and kissed him passionately—Zoro was oblivious to your (very obvious) feelings towards him. He knew three things. First, that he was painfully infatuated, borderline in love with you. Second, that he wanted you to touch him again. And third, that he had to do something about it.

The problem was that he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. And he was doubting himself. He hadn’t seen you for two whole days after Chopper took over for you, and on the third day Chopper gave him the green light to roam around deck and do some light lifting.

How would he go about initiating something with you? What would the moment be like when he first saw you after all that had transpired? Should he just grab you and pull you into a kiss? Tentatively broach the subject? Pretend it never happened? Zoro was at a loss.

The first time he saw you since you helped him “relieve” some stress, he froze. It was at the dinner table and he had gotten himself a plate of food and sat down, not paying attention to anything going on in the loud room or raucous antics. He was scarfing down his food when he felt something. To be more specific, he could feel someone staring at him.

He paused and did a comedically slow look up. You were across the table from him, looking at him, and he hadn’t noticed you. He almost choked on his food. When his eyes met yours, he immediately looked away, on instinct. It was like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Hey, Zoro.” You casually addressed him, acting like you usually would have. To your eyes, he did seem to be acting a slightly different—he seemed pissed, honestly—but you figured that some awkwardness would be normal at first, given that the last time you saw him he came all over your hand. “How’s the shoulder and thigh holding up?”

He cleared his throat and looked back at you. His eyes were always intense and it made you squirm. It was hard to hold eye contact with him. He just looked so pissed off all the time and his gaze was, without fail, cold and deadpan.

Zoro, on the other hand, could feel blush starting to creep up his neck, threatening to take over his whole face, but he tried to fight it off as best he could. Just act normal, he told himself internally. Just act normal. Nothing weird happened. She said it didn’t have to be weird at all. But you’re acting weird. He started to argue with himself. Well, stop it, damnit!

“It’s uhh—it’s fine.” He shrugged, nonchalant. You had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. As much as you liked him, as much as you had hoped that what happened a few nights ago would have changed everything, your heart faltered. It felt like it didn’t change anything between you at all. Even though you gave him such a passionate kiss at the end, even though you said that you’d ‘have to try his cum next time’ (or something like that), even though he’d moaned your name… did Zoro really not care about it at all? Was it merely a one-time fluke, explained by how desperate he had been after days of not masturbating? His eyes seemed to suggest that this must have been the case. You thought that you would have seen something there, some small residual of the fire that had burned so brightly in him nights before but… his eyes were cold and uncaring. Your heart sank.

The rest of the crew were laughing about something and eating, so you thought the interaction between you and Zoro would go unnoticed. You would finish your food and go back to your room to be emo about it for a little while before emerging again. But, as always, Sanji had something to say.

“Hey IDIOT!” his voice cut the silence between you and Zoro. “Don’t you think you should be more grateful for having such a gorgeous babe as your nurse!? I ought to rip my shoulder next so I get to hang out with you for five whole days, beautiful~~” Sanji came over and kissed your hand, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed.

“Oh, stop it, Sanji!” You giggled. No matter how many times Sanji praised you, you didn’t know how to respond.

“My love~ can I make anything else for you?” Sanji’s signature tone was over the top and lovey-dovey. “I’ll make anything you want!”

“No, no, Sanji, I’m good. But thank you!” You waved him off with a smile and he blew you a kiss. By the time your short interaction was done, you turned back to Zoro and his seat was empty. He was washing his plate in the kitchen sink. He set it on the drying rack and walked back to his room. His abrupt exit stung. He really didn’t give a fuck at all, you told yourself, trying to fight back the pit growing at the bottom of your stomach. Now you definitely were going to be emo in your room. It was impossible not to read into that more. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

You felt rejected, like that sweetness you had seen from Zoro was a lie, like maybe he didn’t actually have interest in you, like you were getting your hopes up for nothing. After all, the only reason anything happened between you two was because he was in pain and couldn’t do it himself. You tried to reason the hurt away—you were just being a good friend, you told him it didn’t have to be weird or anything, you were the one who leaned up to kiss him, not the other way around. From this angle, it looked like Zoro was repulsed by you, evidenced by his own actions. He must have been disgusted by the whole thing—why else would he practically jump out of his seat as soon as possible?

Maybe him moaning your name was only a heat-of-the-moment thing, maybe the fact that you touched yourself in front of him made him disgusted, maybe you crossed a line. You were feeling all mixed up inside, sad, frustrated, emotionally unregulated, sick to your stomach. You liked him so, so much, and the painful realization that he didn’t think anything of it made you feel like absolute shit.

Well, it turns out that Zoro thought a lot about it. He was just emotionally repressed, or at least he was when it came to you. He didn’t know what to do with himself after he saw you at dinner, he felt like he needed get away from you as soon as possible, or else he was going to say something off-putting and weird or make himself look like a love-sick fool (and he definitely was one). He almost turned bright red when he realized you were in front of him; he almost lost his cool, hell, he almost choked!

Sanji speaking to you with such ease and such affection was the cherry on top. The shit cook could talk to you however he pleased, and it didn’t matter to anyone, but underneath the surface Zoro was seething with jealousy. He walked away from dinner so fucking annoyed at himself for not having anything else to say to you, so fucking annoyed at himself for not being nicer to you. His heart was screaming that he wanted to be the one who called you baby, sweetie, darling, and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one kissing your hand. But the shit cook got to do whatever he wanted, because Zoro couldn’t muster the strength or courage to get rejected. So, he shot himself in the foot, making you feel horrible and making himself feel horrible—two birds with one stone.

---

The next day Zoro was feeling a lot better. He could tell his shoulder was close to being fully healed, but it would be a couple more days until he could get back to working out, on account of his thigh. He felt better mentally, too. Sleep helped him process things; his emotions felt more worked out after a solid night of sleep. He was less annoyed with himself and had stopped spewing vitriol at himself. He was feeling clear-headed—if he saw you again, he would say thank you and not run away like last time. He was hyping himself up to do it, and his internal monologue along the lines of: Just say thank you, and move along, like a normal person. You don’t have to say ANYTHING about the handjob. Just say thank you, it’s simple! She can interpret that any way that she wants, and it isn’t objectively creepy. It’ll be fiiiiinnnneeee.

While Zoro felt better when he woke up, you felt worse when you woke up. Your eyes were red from crying. Something about that interaction with him broke your heart and got to you, so you couldn’t help it. When you had to walk past him in the hallway in the morning, you just pretended like he wasn’t there, acting like you were doing something on your phone. You wanted to disappear walking past him, cringing out of your skin. You usually would smile at him or say “Hi, Zoro!” but you kept it to yourself this morning, heart still stinging from the slight yesterday. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you.

Zoro made a mental note of you ignoring him and he almost didn’t follow through with his plans. If you weren’t saying hi or good morning to him, then something was definitely off between you two. This was a little moment that he looked forward to every day. Today had been the only day that you hadn’t greeted him in the morning since you joined the crew. It was out of character, and it worried him. But he told himself that he was going to thank you no matter what. No matter how shy or awkward he felt about it, he thought you deserved a thank you because you had been his nurse for five whole days, and more than that, you had helped him get off when he was so pathetic and desperate for it.

You rounded the corner of the hallway after passing Zoro. You thought you were in the clear, putting your phone in your pocket. Phew. That didn’t feel great, but it would have felt worse to say good morning to him and get ignored.

“Hey—Y/N?” Your heart stopped. It was Zoro. He must have speed walked down the hallway to catch up to you. You spun around to face him and he almost ran into you. He overestimated how fast you were going and when you turned around he was about three inches away from you, uncomfortably close. You were almost touching. A second passed before you both turned red and jumped a couple feet apart.

“Zoro, you scared me!” You faked annoyance hoping that it would distract from the vivid shade your face was quickly turning.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he replied, rubbing his neck in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t so bad.” You offered him a smile, to which his heart twisted and butterflies fluttered. A feeling of relief crept over him at seeing you beaming at him like you always did—like he looked forward to every morning.

He had planned on saying thanks and hadn’t thought about what he would do after that. Now that his plan was executed, he was stumped—what would he do now? His heart told him that any time he spent around you was a treasure; but he didn’t have any idea on what to say, or how to rope you into spending more time with him. He didn’t know how to completely and gracefully express his gratitude without outright saying “Thanks for giving me a hand job!” And he was trying to avoid that.

He blurted out his next words. “Well, uh… Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around deck.” You smiled again and he turned the other way and shuffled off. He was dying inside. Cringing so hard that he wanted to slap himself. You’re a grade A FOOL, he reprimanded himself. What the fuck was that? ‘See you around deck’? Are you fucking twelve? That was so awkward, holy shit. I always see her around deck. Where the hell did that come from? He cringed again. He needed to disappear ASAP. He felt so awkward, like he fumbled the whole interaction. He was being hard on himself for no reason, because you thought nothing of it. You were simply tickled that he showed you some kindness, that he wasn’t as disgusted or creeped out by you as you thought earlier.

You did see him around deck later that day, much to your mutual delight. You gave him a wave and he smiled back at you. Usually, he would do some kind of head nod thingy, bringing his chin up quickly and back down, as a sort of acknowledgement. But this time he had given you a genuine smile. His lips curled into the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, and your heart skipped a beat again. It was crazy how much you liked him.

---

At dinner that night Zoro sat across from you, deliberately. He always tried to sit near you. It was the only time of day he could be that close to you, normally, and he would take any time he could get, but he rarely interacted with you at dinner. He’d spend more time bickering with Sanji, Luffy, and Usopp more than anyone, and he’d laugh a lot too. Especially if he had some sake, which was frequently.

When he sat down, you gave him another one of your smiles. “Hi Zoro,” you chirped. “How’s your shoulder? Is your thigh doing okay?” His shoulder was still covered with bandages, peeking out from under the t-shirt he was wearing, and he was still slightly limping from the huge gash on his thigh.

“Both are doing a lot better. Chopper said I can lift weights that are a bit heavier now.” His tone was gruff, and he was focused on his food, not looking at you.

“Nice!”

“How was your day?” He asked, looking up from his plate into your eyes. His eyes were as steely as ever but… they looked different. You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

Asking as simple a question like that was not how Zoro historically interacted with you. In fact, you’re not sure he had asked something like that before. You two were friendly, you were crewmates, after all. But you didn’t talk or hang out much, one on one. Or at least, you hadn’t since you nursed him for five days (and helped him get off).

“It was good,” you answered him. “I didn’t do much, honestly. Just sort of lazed around.”

“Me too.” Zoro held eye contact with you for slightly longer than usual—his eyes lingered. He steadied himself mentally before he asked you his next question, cringing in advance, figuring you’d shrug him off. But he was dying to know the answer. He needed to talk to you.

“I’m going to have some sake on the deck after this, do you want to join?” His eyes were still locked on yours and butterflies stirred in your stomach. You realized what emotion lied behind his eyes—he seemed to be pleading. This was out of left field for Zoro.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You responded, blush taking over your cheeks. You were flabbergasted, caught unaware.

“Well, I’m done with dinner, so when you finish just find me on deck.” He nodded at you, offered a small smile, and got up. He went to wash his plate, grabbed a couple bottles of sake, and went outside.

---

When you went looking for him, Zoro was sitting on the upper deck with a bottle already cracked open. He was looking off into the ocean, and you took a second to take in his beauty. He looked perfect to you. His jaw was sharp and the line of his neck was familiar to you after changing his ice packs and bandages. His arms were toned, his figure manly and handsome. The setting sun was casting beautiful and golden rays on the whole scene, and he looked all the better for it. This was the man that you liked, loved, even.

You came and sat next to him, and he offered you a bottle. Zoro drank sake straight out of the bottle, so you did too. “The sunset is gorgeous,” you observed.

In his mind he answered back, you are gorgeous. But in reality, he responded with a “Mmmhmm.”

The tension and silence in the air between you felt suffocating.

“So, why’d you invite me to have sake with you? What’s up?” You asked, puzzled.

“No reason, really.” He responded, turning to look at you. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, forcing himself to say what was actually on his mind. Forcing himself to say what you deserved to hear. “I just like spending time with you.”

You turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, uh.. Seriously? That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. He noticed your blush, perturbed, and barreled onwards with what he planned to say.

“Yeah. I think I’ll miss having you as my nurse. Not in a creepy way or anything,” he cautioned and waited a beat. His heart was crying out to him—tell her how you feel! “Your presence is peaceful and you’re kind. It was nice to spend time with you.”

The look in his eyes was vulnerable and open. You’d only seen it once before, right before he opened up to you, days earlier. You were taken aback, flustered, couldn’t believe your ears. Did Zoro say that it was nice to spend time with you?

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled back at him. You didn’t know where the conversation was going, but your heartbeat was through the roof. “I had a nice time. And I don’t think you’re creepy or anything. I think you’re really sweet. So, I guess I should be the one saying thank you.”

Now it was Zoro who turned crimson.

“Thanks for what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Thanks for letting me be close to you like that.” You answered softly and your eyes met his again. His gaze was tortured—he felt like he was dreaming. Your words hung in the air.

“Anytime.” He answered, almost breathless. Then, he took the jump. After saying his next words, there’d be no going back. But the moment was in front of him, and he had to seize it. “I may not show it, but I like you a lot. To be honest, I think about you a lot too.”

You were stunned. Had he just said that? Was the sweetness you saw in him coming to the forefront? It seemed like time stood still.

“Zoro, I think about you a lot too.” Your voice was gentle.

“How?” He asked. He had to know, he needed to hear it explicitly from you. If you liked him, he needed to know. He needed you to hit him over the head with it.

“How? Zoro, if you couldn’t tell already, you’ve been driving me crazy. You’re all I can think about.” You looked at him, mired in the agony of finally confessing your feelings for someone. “I am painfully infatuated with you. I can’t even look you in the eyes half the time. I was glad to be your nurse because I like you. I more than like you. I—” you stopped yourself. You’d save those words for another time.

Something came over Zoro in that moment. It’s like he was in an alternate reality, one in which you liked him, too. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek and pulled you into the most delicate kiss. His lips met yours with sparks. It’s like you melted into him. Neither of you had any regard for what was going on around you—Sanji could have started screaming bloody murder at you and you wouldn’t have moved.

It felt like the kiss lasted millennia. When you pulled away from each other, you could see the fire and passion in Zoro’s eyes. It was like you had unlocked a completely different side of him, a side that you knew was there all along. It was a part of him that was vulnerable, sweet, kind, passionate, sensitive, and loving. You knew he was like this under the surface, and that he loved all of his crewmates and would die for them. But this side… this romantic side felt different.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He murmured. “Fuck.”

“Me too.” You felt like you were going to pass out from blushing.

“Can we do that again?” He asked. His eyes seemed ravenous. He was starving for your touch, craving your attention, desperate for your love. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body, tangle his fingers in your hair, feel your heartbeat next to his, your body warmth. But he told himself to not get carried away.

You whispered back a “yes,” and Zoro put one hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him. His other hand cupped your cheek again, and his kisses were timid and light. His touch made you feel electric. You needed more than this, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, so your bodies were pressing. As your kisses became more intense, you bit his lip softly and let your tongue explore his. Zoro’s hand on your cheek crept downwards. His fingertips went underneath your shirt and came to rest on your waist—he wanted to feel how soft your skin was, at last becoming acquainted with it after so many months of yearning. In doing this, he had no ulterior motive. It was a privilege to touch you.

The deck was empty at the moment, to your advantage. Who knows what commotion would have run wild if the crew had seen you and Zoro with your hands all over each other and lips locked.

When you had made out for a few minutes, Zoro pulled away from you. He felt like he could be more upfront with you and confident now that you had mutually confessed your feelings.

“Y/N,” he let himself ask the question he had been pondering for days. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do it again?”

He was referring to the end of your last interaction—when you said there would be a ‘next time,’ as in, you’d be intimate with each other again.

“Of course,” you answered him. Your faces were only centimeters apart. His heart was aching for you.

“When?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Your bit your lip and responded, bolder. “Now?”

“Please.” His eyes were begging you, his brow furrowed slightly. You nodded and got up, thrilled. He followed you without a word. He had never foreseen that the night would come to this.

(*) When you reached your bedroom, Zoro locked the door behind and then practically threw you against the wall. His hands were everywhere, and his mouth was so desperate—he felt your waist, your hips, your ass, your neck, your cheeks, your hair. His kisses were needy, sloppy, went, and ravenous. One of your hands clasped his neck, the other began to roam his chest and abs. You could feel his raging erection pressing on you. You had both been fantasizing about this for months and now that the cards were on the table, you meant business.

Moments passed and your hands crept down his broad chest. You hesitated when you reached the hem of his shirt. As you placed your fingers underneath it, you touched his bare skin, palms passing over his happy trail, up to his abs and scars. You took in everything your senses gave you—how his skin felt, how he smelled, how his big hands felt on you, how forcefully he was kissing you.

“Zoro,” you spoke into his mouth and in between his kisses. “Zoro, I want you.”

He hummed into your lips and his hands similarly crept under the hem of your shirt. His hands fingers across your stomach, making you shiver; he felt your stomach and your waist, rubbed circles on your skin with his thumbs, memorizing every inch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He needed to know if you really meant it. If you really wanted it.

"Yes."

Hearing your answer, Zoro reached his fingers for your bra and unclasped it. He went back to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up, peeling your shirt over your shoulders and helping you slide your bra off so your breasts were bare. When he started kissing you again, his hands hungrily started exploring—his fingers pinched your nipples and ran them between his index finger and thumbs, rubbing them until you let out a whine. He kneaded and squeezed. He couldn’t get enough.

Zoro unlocked his lips from yours and bent down to latch his lips over one of your nipples while his other hand played with your other nipple. His tongue swirled, making your bud harder than it already was. He sucked on it, until it started to feel good, and you were letting out soft sounds, trying to keep the noise down. You were wet already, cunt throbbing for him.

“Zoro, please,” your voice strained. “Need you.”

His kisses worked up your chest, up your neck, and to your lips. You could feel his hard bulge rut into you. You shimmied out of your pants before Zoro picked you up, lifting you by your waist. He carried you to your bed and put you down so you were lying flat.

Sliding off his pants one quick movement, Zoro was stripped to only his black boxer briefs now. Zoro’s cock was (as you were already aware) huge. When he got on top of you, you could feel it rubbing on your stomach through the fabric and on top of your underwear.

Zoro was putting all his weight on his knees, letting his other hands explore and trail around your body. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, to your stomach, and then came to rest on top of the fabric of your panties. He pushed your thighs apart and held them there. Bringing his face to your panties, Zoro left one long lick from bottom to top, up your folds, to your clit. He licked at your clit a few times and you whined—the rough fabric combined with his tongue made friction that felt so good. You could feel your wetness seep and saturate your panties with each lick and kiss placed through the fabric.

He tugged the fabric aside and ran his tongue between your folds, stopping right before he got to your clit. As soon as his tongue made contact, you let out a moan, albeit a soft one. The noise was music to Zoro’s ears, and it fueled him. He neglected your clit for a few more seconds, only focusing on lapping the wetness from your folds, teasing your slit, and breathing in your scent.

Zoro wanted you to feel as good as he had felt a few days before, when your hand was wrapped around his cock. This was his way of ‘repaying the favor.’ When he finally ran his tongue in circles around your clit, you moaned his name for the first time.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth was like honey to his ears. His heart was pounding and twisting, core burning, and the only thing he could think about was you. He needed you to feel good. He wanted your toes to curl in pleasure, wanted you to cum at least once, wanted you to repeat his name again and again like it was a symphony.

His tongue lingered on your sensitive spot for a few seconds before returning to lick the glistening slick that was accumulating down your cunt. The head he gave was so good it was indescribable.

Zoro pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pulled it out slowly, eliciting another moan. After doing that a few times, he added another finger, loosening you up and drawing more slick from your core. As his fingers started to curl and scissor inside of you, he reached his head forward and started leaving long kisses and warm licks on your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming—his big hands were prying your thighs apart still, his grip was so hard it would leave a bruise, his fingers were fucking you steadily, tongue still licking long stripes up your clit, hot breath sending ripples of euphoria through you. You could only handle so much before you started to squirm. Your fingers reached down into his hair, holding it tight, pulling his face closer to you. Zoro had to hold back a grin. Little did you know, that was his mission accomplished for the night, other than making you cum, that is.

“Zoro,” you moaned his name a second time, cueing him run his tongue in gentle circles around your clit again and slow the pace of his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore. I—I’m gonna cum”.

He pulled his fingers out of you. “Don’t cum yet, ok?” Sucking your juices off his fingers, he let go of your thighs, which fell limp and wide open.

You nodded and whined again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

When he got back to eating you out, he switched it up—this time, his tongue fucked you and his thumb ran circles over your clit. The added pressure on your clit from the rough skin of his thumb drove you crazy, and when his tongue alternated from licking your folds to fucking your slit, you couldn’t handle it. Your legs clamped around him, squeezing his head, causing his cock to throb more than he physically thought it was capable of.

This time, regardless of whether or not he told you to wait, you were going to cum.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you panted, whining, “I need it. Please.” He could tell you were close. He pressed on your clit just a little bit harder, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you like a wave (which, coincidentally, is what Zoro felt seeping out of you and onto his tongue). Your thighs squeezed his head harder and you moaned his name loudly, again and again, as you convulsed. Your toes curled, fingers almost tearing out his hair.

This was unlike any orgasm you’d felt before. It was more visceral—he truly knew what he was doing, which was wild, considering that he wasn’t the most experienced. But he must have had a gift for it, because that was by far the best head you’ve gotten.

He licked your clit through your orgasm, causing your hips to jerk. The pleasure was enveloping you, everything in your mind went blank except for the feeling of your orgasm and the sensation of his tongue.

When you had finished, he licked the rest of your juices off your folds, savoring it. Then he crawled back over you, looking down and pulling you into a kiss.

The thought of you tasting yourself through his kisses turned him on, too. His cock was painfully hard at this point, precum blotting very noticeable a stain through his briefs. He was endlessly pleased with himself after teasing such an orgasm out of you. When he had given you a handful of kisses, he collapsed on the bed next to you and reached over to sweetly kiss your cheek. His hand entwined with yours, and you were both out of breath, happy and sweaty together.

Zoro wasn’t overly fussed with his own orgasm and was planning on waiting until you fell asleep later to go to the bathroom and relieve himself. Tonight was about you. As long as you came, Zoro was happy. So, he smiled happily next to you, thanking his luck that the person he loved seemed to like (if not love) him back.

He figured that would be all for the night… but he was wrong.

＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／ ⊂(￣(ｴ)￣)⊃ (⊙︿⊙ ✿)

Check out part one if you haven't already! Thank u so much for reading, I hope you liked it! Part 3? Perhaps...

also here's my masterlist if ur interested!

--Z

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[copperbadge]

how did u psych urself up to go to therapy? my executive function has been awol for like 2 years and it's gotten to the point where it's wrecking my ability to do anything. i'm scared to waste a bunch of time and money going and getting told i'm just lazy or that the problem is just me

Happy to talk about that! But this is really two issues, so I gotta do a fly-by real first on "scared of getting told I'm just lazy". :D

It sounds to me like you're aware intellectually that laziness isn't the issue. You know this is an executive function issue and not a personal flaw, but I definitely get that it's hard to internalize that. So I'm going to drop links here to some discussion of "laziness":

How do you know you're not just lazy? (ask sent to me -- it's long, but you can skim for the laziness bits if you want.)

Lack of motivation means you are avoiding pain (second ask in response to the first)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price

These are essentially my proofs when I want to remind you that laziness is a label that stigmatizes an innate behavior -- inability to act is real, laziness is not. If a therapist tells you that you are lazy, and ESPECIALLY that you are the problem, you should fire that therapist. Don't even stay the rest of the session if you don't want to, just say "I see we are not compatible," and bounce. I don't think the odds are high that you'll encounter that, but on the off-chance that you do, that's a bright neon sign that they're a bad therapist.

In fact I would open with that pitch: "I'm struggling with executive function and the self-perception that I'm really just lazy. I need help with the actual executive function issues but also with how I view myself because of them." The therapist's response will tell you a lot about whether they'd be a good fit.

So with that out of the way...

I eased myself into therapy with the speed of a small child entering an extremely cold lake. It helped a lot that all of my therapy has been virtual via Zoom, so a lot of stuff that would have been a barrier, like going to the physical appointments, discomfort in a strange space, etc. were swept away.

I didn't even want to see a psychiatrist for my Adderall prescription, but I knew I needed help and medication seemed to be my best option, so with the assurances of several people that it wasn't therapy so much as mental health maintenance, I saw a psychiatrist. And he was lovely! (I just met with him yesterday to go over my next few months of scrip.) For a while that was all I did: talked every month to a kind person who asked specific and measurable questions about my mental health -- mood, sleep patterns, ability to work, hobbies -- without getting especially personal. I thought, okay, I can handle this, I can probably handle more, so I asked him for a recommendation for a therapist.

He looked at the network of independent practitioners he belonged to (Clarity Clinic Chicago, if you want an example of a good network) and found me a couple of options. I got extremely lucky to find someone I felt was appropriate for me right out of the gate, though some of that was also knowing what criteria I had: I wanted someone who explicitly stated they specialized in adult ADHD and disability, and who seemed like they were interested in addressing a whole person and not a single issue. When we met she seemed nice, wasn't pushy or judgey, was familiar with spoon theory and disability activism because she also has ADHD, and didn't blink (or ask overly invasive questions) when I said I was very uneasy about therapy because of past experience. She was comfortable with the ambiguity I brought -- I basically said "Look, I think this is something I need but I'm not entirely sure what my goals are yet, it's just I only recently found out I have ADHD and I am rethinking a lot of stuff," and she was like fine, let's rethink it together.

It still took me a long time to start talking about anything meaningful, but she handled the non-meaningful stuff as if it was serious and important, which helped. Admittedly I have really good insurance so I pay $20 a session for therapy, which also helps; it's pretty negligible in terms of health costs for me. I can afford to dawdle.

So, all that said...my path may not be an option for you, but I think it indicates the kinds of options you have. You don't have to jump into serious and heavily emotional processing first thing if you don't want to. You can shop around for therapists and you can drop any bad ones you encounter speedily, or if you find one you immediately like you can still spend time getting comfortable before dropping into the heavier stuff.

I would suggest that if you have a prescribing psych or doctor for any kind of mental health meds, ask them if they have a recommendation. If you don't have that, ask around people you know or believe have access to therapy and see what they think. If those aren't available to you or you're uncomfortable with that, I'd do a search for licensed therapist and your health insurance, or see if your workplace has an employee assistance program that can recommend you someone.

Good luck! I hope you get what you need. Lord knows I've been there.