#<- let me know if this is wrong. i Do Not know about this media

[norristrii]

ALL OR NOTHING.

IN WHICH… how he would be as your teammate rival. (who secretly likes you)

featuring. Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton.

warnings. rivalry, rivals to lovers, idk ?

LANDO NORRIS

─── constant comparing: You joined the team and achieved more in one season than he has in years. It hurt. He hid it with jokes, but deep down, he was frustrated—and impressed.

─── passive aggressive: He’ll drop lines like, “Congrats. Must be nice to get it all handed to you,” even though he knew you earned it. It stings because he was jealous.

─── got weird when you beat him: If you place higher or make a smart move on track, he went quiet. Not cold—just… affected. Like losing to you meant more than losing points.

─── just teasing…or?: He teased you nonstop. Said you’re lucky, too confident, too shiny. But behind the banter? There was real emotion he didn’t know what to do with.

─── confessed at the worst time: One race, you both end up out after colliding. The team is upset. You argue. And then… “You came in and did in a year what I’ve been chasing for seven. I wanted to hate you. But somehow I just… didn’t.”

MAX VERSTAPPEN

─── thought you were overhyped: From day one, Max was skeptical. He saw the media buzz around your debut and thought you were just hype—flashy, fast-talking, and bound to fade by mid-season. “Let’s see if she survives one season," he said, watching your first out lap with arms folded, unimpressed—but watching all the same.

─── tried to ignore you: You beat him in qualifying early on. He said nothing. No handshake, no acknowledgment. But later, when you weren't looking, he lingered in the sim room and pulled up your lap telemetry. He told himself it was to “analyze the rookie.” In reality? He just needed to understand how the hell you were already that good.

─── refused to praise you publicly: When reporters asked about your growing success, he deflected. “Let her prove it over time.” But on team comms? You’d occasionally hear coded praise slip through: "Sector 2… clean. Not bad."

─── jealous when others hyped you up: When fans or journalists started calling you Max’s toughest challenger, his smile thinned. His body language shifted in press conferences, suddenly rigid. The next session? He drove like he was out to silence every headline

─── admitted it quietly: After a tense debrief, where you'd just barely out-qualified him again, the room emptied out. You expected a cold comment. Instead, he stayed silent, then finally said: “I hated that you made it look easy. Like I wasted years being careful.” You didn’t speak. He added—quieter this time: “Then I realized… I didn’t hate you at all.”

OSCAR PIASTRI

─── barely acknowledged your arrival: Oscar was always been reserved, but when you joined the team, he barely looked up. He figured you'd be fast, maybe clever—but still someone he'd out-race with calm calculation.

─── oddly fixated on your driving style: You noticed it during sim runs—he'd pause your data, replay your apex choices, then recreate them himself. He never said it out loud, but his way of understanding you started with your telemetry.

─── corrected you once, and hated it: During a strategy meeting, he publicly disagreed with your call. Later, he found you alone and said, "I wasn’t trying to prove you wrong. I just wanted to sound like I could keep up." the air between you shifted.

─── always races you clean, but just a little too close: You notice he never goes aggressive against you. Always leaves space. But his battles with you feel more intense than any other driver. Almost like he's chasing something more than a result.

─── flinched when you got hurt: After a minor crash, the team rushed to check you. Oscar stayed behind... until he thought no one’s watching. Then he headed to the medical room, peeked inside, and said: “Don’t do that again, you scared the shit out of me.”

CHARLES LECLERC

─── judged you harshly at first: Charles saw your rise as threatening. You were fast, fearless, and already drawing headlines. “She’s good,” he admitted once. “But she hasn’t been broken yet.” He believed true greatness came through loss—and waited to see how you'd handle pain.

─── felt exposed every time you beat him: When you started outrunning him, he wasn’t angry—he was rattled. You reminded him of everything he used to be before years of heartbreak dulled his spark. He avoided you after big wins. Quiet jealousy. Quiet awe.

─── raced you harder than anyone else: With others, he was clean. Precise. With you? Pushes to the limit. Wheel-to-wheel, late braking, side glances across the cockpit. He said it was competition. You knew it was something else.

─── shared brief moments that hit like thunder: After one qualifying session where you outpaced him, he passed you in the hallway and whispered: “That was beautiful.” You turned—but he was already gone.

─── found excuses to talk to you off track: Asked about setup tweaks he didn’t really need. Discussed race strategies as if your opinion mattered more than telemetry. Every conversation was him trying not to say the real thing: I trust you. I admire you. I think I’m falling.

CARLOS SAINZ

─── saw you as a challenge from day one: Carlos clocked your pace immediately and didn’t take it lightly. You weren’t just quick—you were clever, and that ticked every box on his threat radar. “She’s too confident,” he told his engineer with a smirk. Then you beat him in your second qualifying together. The smirk disappeared.

─── flirted with precision: Where others teased, Carlos was calculated. Compliments with bite: “Nice line through Turn 11… I almost used it myself.” The banter never felt casual—it felt like fencing with words, both of you pretending it wasn’t flirting.

─── tried to beat you and impress you at the same time: Late braking into turn battles, daring overtakes in FP1—it was all war, but you knew when he left just enough room, it wasn’t just good racecraft. It was respect. Maybe even care.

─── got possessive without realizing: When the team praised your setups more, he stayed quiet—but switched engineers mid-season. When another driver posted a photo with you, he liked it hours later, but unfollowed them quietly a week later. Carlos plays it smooth, but jealousy makes him messier than he admits.

─── nearly said it during a media storm: Rumors flew after one dramatic wheel-to-wheel battle. Pundits speculated teammate tension. In a quiet moment in the motorhome, Carlos looked at you, tired and maybe just a little unguarded. “I didn’t come here to fall for the person who’s beating me.” Then added— “But I guess you’re better at surprises than I thought.”

LEWIS HAMILTON

─── underestimated the emotional impact of you: Lewis welcomed you to the team with calm confidence. He’d seen rookies come and go. But when you started beating his lap times? His composure held… and cracked quietly beneath the surface.

─── watched, studied, remembered: You’d mention a setup preference once—he’d remember it weeks later. You joke mid-briefing? He quotes it under his breath during press. He says he’s focused on racing… but you live in his mental playlist now.

─── kept up appearances—but starts slipping: Always gracious in public. Smiles when you shine. But alone in the sim room, his fingers hesitate. You’re faster. His heart’s louder. His pride and feelings blur. “She is brilliant,” he tells his trainer. Then adds, quieter—“Too brilliant”

─── pushed harder when you challenged him: You beat him in Q3. His answer? A flawless overtake the next day, surgical and silent. Post-race, he hands you your helmet with a nod that feels… heavy. You ask, “Problem?” He shrugs. “Just learning what it feels like to lose to someone I care about.”

─── almost broke during a night flight: After a rough weekend, you're seated beside him on the team jet. Quiet. Tension simmering. He finally whispers: “You remind me of me before I was careful.” Pause. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stop wanting you to win. Even if it breaks me when you do.”

© norristrii 2025

babsie radio ! quick headcanons, I’m starting to work on roommate! lando 🫶🏻

[understeeringirl]

The fallout

Summary: After the gala, everything is too sharp, too quiet. Lando knocks on your door like an apology, but your phone buzzes before he can speak—and the photo says it all. You ask if it’s real. He doesn’t deny it. And something inside you shatters. warnings: emotional whiplash, heartbreak, social media pressure, betrayal (photo with another girl), fever/illness, fainting, mention of changing clothes (non-sexual), emotional vulnerability, caretaking, angst that lingers like smoke word count: 4.6k series: wrong side of the camera - intro - chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven

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You wake up early.

Your skin smells like leftover makeup remover and lavender detergent. Your hair’s in a bun you don’t remember tying. The heels from last night sit by the door, abandoned like they knew something you didn’t.

You should feel better after a night of sleep.

You don’t.

The ache isn’t sharp. It’s quiet. Steady. A weight in your chest that hasn't moved since you told him goodnight without looking back.

You shuffle into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an old hoodie, scrolling through your phone half-dazed. No new texts. No voice notes.

Just his last words in the car, still stuck in your head:

“I’m going to fix this. I’ll be better. I swear.”

You’d let yourself believe it.

You almost still do.

Until the knock comes.

You’re not expecting anyone. Not this early. Not like this.

You crack the door open—and there he is.

Lando.

Hood up, dark circles under his eyes, hand shoved into the pocket of his hoodie like he doesn’t know what else to do with it.

He looks at you like he’s not sure if he should be here.

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he says. “Can we talk?”

You blink at him. “Now?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your phone buzzes.

You glance down, thumb swiping instinctively.

And your stomach drops.

Lando Norris spotted with mystery girl hours after Silver & Black Gala.

There it is: the blurry photo. His hoodie. Her laugh. Their shadows crawling into the backseat of a car that isn’t yours.

You feel yourself freeze.

You laugh.

Because what else is there to do?

“Wow,” you say, holding the phone up between you like a prop. “They really don’t rest, do they?”

Lando’s brow furrows. “What?”

You tilt the screen toward him. “You’ve got a mystery brunette now, apparently. Tell me—should I be flattered or replaced?”

He doesn’t say anything.

His face shifts—just enough. Not horror. Not even surprise. Just… recognition. And that’s enough.

You know.

The photo was real.

You see it in the way he swallows. How he doesn’t ask what photo?, doesn’t pretend. He just looks at it.

Then looks at you.

And says nothing.

“So it’s true,” you say, voice quiet.

“No,” he blurts. “Not like that. It wasn’t—she was just—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t say it wasn’t anything if you were with her after everything you said to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Your throat is tight now. “You just left out the part where you couldn’t wait a full day before falling back into old habits.”

“I wasn’t with her like that. I just needed—I was overwhelmed, and it wasn’t a plan—”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I mean—I didn’t know it was out yet.”

That’s when it hits.

“You weren’t coming to tell me,” you whisper. “You were coming to get ahead of it.”

“I wasn’t—I swear, that’s not why I came here.”

You stare at him.

He keeps talking.

“I was gonna explain, I just—I messed up, I know I did, but it wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You cross your arms. “But you didn’t want to be honest either.”

His expression shifts again—smaller this time. Something close to shame.

“I meant what I said in the car,” he says. “I just—fucked it all up the second I walked away.”

You nod slowly.

Then you step back.

“I think you should go.”

Lando stills. “What?”

“Please,” you add, voice hollow. “I can’t do this right now.”

He hesitates like he wants to say something—fix it, soften it, rewrite it. But you’re already closing the door.

He doesn’t stop you.

You wait until the latch clicks.

Then you sit on the floor, back to the door, and let it break.

He doesn’t move.

Not until he hears it.

The sob breaks from your chest—sharp, involuntary, too real to be swallowed. It cuts through the silence like it was meant to pierce him.

And it does.

Lando flinches.

Then his hand goes to the doorframe. Fingertips pressed there like touch might anchor him to something.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He knocks once—soft, like an apology. “Please,” he says, barely audible. “Just open the door. Let me explain. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t think—I just—”

Another sound from you. Quieter this time, but it wrecks him worse.

He presses his forehead to the wood.

“I’m still here,” he murmurs, as if that could fix it.

But the silence that answers is colder than anything you’ve ever said.

And so he stays.

Outside your door. Breathing too hard. Repeating your name under his breath like a prayer he doesn’t deserve.

You don’t move for a long time.

Not even when the knocking stops. Not when his voice fades into a whisper. Not when the silence on the other side of the door stretches long enough to make your chest ache.

You stay curled on the floor, breath shallow, heart cracked open and spilling into the quiet.

Eventually, you stand.

Your legs are unsteady. Your arms feel wrong at your sides. But you walk back into the kitchen anyway, like pretending everything is normal will make it so.

You don’t check the door.

You don’t want to know if he’s still out there.

Because if he is, you might open it. And if he’s not, you might break all over again.

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You make coffee with shaking hands. Half the water spills onto the counter. You leave it. Let it pool.

Your phone vibrates once. Then again.

You already know.

“Trouble in paradise?�� “Norris seen with another girl after gala appearance with girlfriend.”

Your name is trending again.

Not for your work. Not for your campaign. Not for anything you did.

You’re just the girl who got left behind.

You toss the phone onto the couch and walk away from it.

You wrap yourself in a hoodie. Then a blanket. Then a silence you don’t know how to climb out of.

You sit on the edge of your bed and let the weight of it settle.

Somewhere behind you—on the other side of a very thin door—he might still be standing there.

But you don’t look.

You don’t ask.

You don’t let yourself hope.

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You don’t sleep.

Maybe an hour, curled on the couch in yesterday’s hoodie, still tasting last night’s silence. But morning still comes. Loud and merciless.

And Vogue still expects you on set.

You stare at the email again. Call time: 9:00. Stylist already en route. Location: minimalist rooftop studio in Notting Hill.

A dream job. A bucket list name. The kind of shoot you once fantasized about when you were fifteen and invisible.

You consider canceling.

You even type the message out.

i can’t come. sorry.

Then you delete it.

Because if you stay here, in this apartment, in this ache—if you give in now—you won’t come back from it.

So you move.

You shower. Dress. Pull your hair into a low clip. Apply concealer with practiced detachment. Not to look beautiful—just functional. Just untouched.

You step out of your apartment just past 8:00 a.m.

The air bites at your collarbone. The sky is bleached gray. The city hasn’t woken up yet.

But he’s still there.

Same car. Same spot. Same hoodie.

He looks like he hasn’t slept either.

His head jerks up the second he sees you. Like he’d been dozing. Or praying.

Your footsteps falter for half a second.

But you don’t stop.

You don’t even look at him properly.

You walk past the car like it’s invisible. Like he is. Like he didn’t beg on the other side of your door just hours ago.

You don’t know if he opens the window. You don’t care.

Because you slide into your stylist’s car, say “drive” before she can ask, and don’t look back once.

Not even as the street disappears behind you.

You used to look at him like he hung the stars. Like even when he was messing up, he was still yours.

Now you look at him like he’s a stranger on the street.

And fuck—maybe he is.

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You barely remember arriving.

The stylist talks the whole drive—about color palettes and silhouettes and how René (the photographer) is “a genius, but high-maintenance.” You nod, say “mhmm” at the right times. Pretend you’re listening.

But your thoughts are elsewhere.

Still parked on that street.

Still sitting in the car you didn’t look at.

Still knocking on the door you didn’t open.

By the time you reach the set, you’ve layered enough professionalism over the pain to pass as functional. You let the makeup artist do her thing. Foundation, highlighter, something dewy and radiant. The irony stings.

Your first look is an oversized blazer and nothing else. Slicked-back hair. Red lip. Bare legs and bare arms and not a single inch of armor.

René claps his hands. “Perfect. She’s giving heartbreak and ambition.’”

You hold your pose.

You don’t react.

Because if you laugh, you’ll cry.

And if you cry, the mascara will run.

And if the mascara runs, it’ll be in every single frame.

You stretch your neck. Shift your weight. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The camera clicks. And clicks. And clicks.

You disappear into the rhythm.

It’s almost peaceful—being someone else for a while. Someone quiet and powerful and untouchable. Someone with nothing to lose.

“Gorgeous,” René says. “Again. Let’s get the heel tilt. Think: vengeance but couture.”

You do.

You think about the fact that he’s still out there.

You think about the passenger seat. The other girl. The trending tag under your name.

You think about the voice note he never answered.

The kiss he didn’t give you.

The silence he left you in.

Click.

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You’re not sure how long you shoot for—an hour, maybe two—before they call for a break.

You step off set. Someone hands you a robe. You take it.

You sit in the corner of the studio, knees pulled to your chest, the robe draped over your silver mini dress. Your phone’s in your lap, buzzing again.

You finally check it.

And you freeze.

Because the first picture from the shoot is already on Instagram. Vogue posted a behind-the-scenes shot. You in the chair. High ponytail. Jaw sharp.

And the comments are flooding in.

“She looks unreal.” “He fumbled so hard omg.” “That’s how you respond to heartbreak—booked and busy.” “Miss girl said: your loss.”

You blink.

Your eyes sting, but you don’t cry.

Not this time.

You just press your lips together, set your phone down, and get back up.

Because the camera's ready again.

And so are you.

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The rest of the shoot blurs.

Outfit changes. Highlighter touch-ups. A half-lunch you don’t touch.

René calls you a revelation. The creative director calls you perfect for the September issue. Your stylist whispers they’re obsessed with you like it’s a secret.

You smile. You nod.

But it doesn’t feel like victory.

Not when you step into the car again and realize you’ve gone almost eight hours without thinking about yourself. Not you as a person. Just you as a product. A face. A muse.

The silence is deafening now.

Your phone buzzes in your hand as your driver takes a turn back toward the flat.

JAMES 🥂 Just saw your Vogue post. you look like you could end lives.

You let out the smallest breath of a laugh.

Then another buzz.

Also, you okay? No pressure to answer. Just thinking about you.

You blink hard.

Not because of the message. But because it feels like the first one all day that saw you and not the headlines.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard.

You type, delete, retype.

you: i’m holding it together. just barely.

Three dots appear almost immediately.

Then:

That counts. Proud of you.

You close your eyes. Let the words sit in your chest for a second.

It’s not the same as him—not even close.

But it’s something.

And right now, something is all you have.

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The sun is setting by the time you get back.

The city glows in that soft, gold-edged way it does when the world feels too quiet. You thank the driver. Step out in your oversized blazer and heels that have long since stopped hurting.

And then you see it.

His car.

Still there.

Same spot.

You stop on the sidewalk. For just a second.

His head is tipped forward, resting on the steering wheel. Like he passed out or gave up or both.

Your chest tightens. Everything inside you goes tense and messy and sharp.

You want to scream. Or knock on the window. Or pretend none of this is happening.

Instead, you walk past him. Again.

But this time, your hands are shaking.

You make it up the stairs. Unlock the door. Step inside.

Then lean back against it. Close your eyes.

You should be used to this by now—the emotional whiplash, the exhaustion, the endless cycle of pretending you’re fine. But something about today makes it worse.

It's late. Your limbs are heavy. Your thoughts are slow.

You drop your keys. Bend to pick them up. Sway a little when you stand.

Something’s wrong.

The apartment is cold. You shiver.

You make it to the bathroom. Brush off the nausea. Strip down, change into one of Lando’s shirts, the softest one, the one you stole months ago and never gave back.

You crawl onto the couch.

The world tilts sideways.

You close your eyes.

You don't remember falling asleep.

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You wake up to sunlight stabbing through the blinds.

Your skin feels too hot. Your breath catches in your throat like you swallowed smoke in your sleep. You blink slowly, lashes sticking together, your face damp with sweat. Everything aches.

Your stomach turns when you shift.

You’re still on the couch. Wrapped in that throw blanket that never feels warm enough. Your dress is gone—thank god—and replaced by an old tee. You don’t remember changing. Maybe you didn’t.

Your mouth is dry. Your heartbeat is loud. There’s a chill in your fingers even though the rest of you feels like you’re burning.

You sit up too fast.

Bad idea.

The room swims. You press a hand to your forehead, to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

There’s a distant thought in the back of your head—you need water. medicine. help. But it’s buried under the fuzz of fever and pride.

You swing your legs off the couch and try to stand.

The floor tilts. Your knees buckle.

You catch yourself on the edge of the coffee table and sink to the ground with a sharp gasp. Your hand knocks your phone off the cushion. It hits the floor face-down.

You drag it toward you. The screen lights up.

10:48 AM

One missed call—from your manager.

Three unread texts. Not from Lando.

You blink slowly. Cold sweat drips down your back.

You try to stand again.

This time, your legs give out completely. Your shoulder hits the floor first, then your hip. You groan, curling into yourself on instinct.

You lay there for a while. Minutes, maybe more. The carpet is scratchy. The sunlight is too bright. Your heart won’t calm down.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Steady. Familiar.

Him.

You try to yell go away, but all that comes out is a dry, broken wheeze. You try to crawl toward the hallway, but your limbs feel like wet sandbags, impossible to move.

The knock comes again.

You shut your eyes. Maybe if you stay still long enough, he’ll leave. Maybe if you don’t move, you’ll float out of your body and escape this entire nightmare of a week.

But you feel his presence hit the room like a storm.

Your body is soaked in sweat. Everything aches. Your head is pounding so loudly it drowns out the soft knocking at the door.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You try to lift your head. It takes everything. A muscle at a time.

You manage to roll onto your side. Your arm twitches out toward the coffee table, reaching for your phone—or maybe for air—but your fingers don’t quite close.

The knocking gets louder.

You try to speak. Nothing comes.

And then—

A key turns in the lock.

You hear the door creak open. Footsteps.

Then:

“No—no, no, no—fuck—”

It’s Lando.

And he’s running.

You can’t lift your head anymore. Your eyelids are too heavy. But you feel hands on your back, your shoulder, your face.

“Hey,” he says, frantic. “Hey—can you hear me?”

You try to answer. Nothing.

“Shit. Okay. Okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You’re lifted into his arms, and it’s like your whole body sighs. Like your bones have given up.

You don’t even feel the tears until they’re soaking your skin.

Not yours.

His.

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You wake up slow, your head pounding like it’s been filled with smoke. Your throat aches. Your skin is on fire.

The light in the room is soft—dimmed. Not morning anymore, but not quite night either. Your skin sticks to the sheets, the air smells faintly like lemon and something antiseptic, and your mouth is painfully dry.

You try to sit up.

Big mistake.

Pain blooms in your chest and your stomach clenches. A soft groan escapes you before you can stop it.

There’s movement to your left.

Then his voice. Quiet. Raspy. Right there.

“Hey. Hey, no—don’t move. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You blink.

He’s beside you in a second, hand hovering just above your arm like he’s scared to touch you without permission, eyes bloodshot from no sleep and maybe crying. A damp cloth in his hand.

It takes a moment before you realize whose hoodie you’re wearing.

Yours must’ve been soaked. You remember flashes—your body on fire, your limbs too heavy, the sound of your own breathing going shallow.

And then him.

You remember arms. Hands. Fear.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then the fury hits—thick and immediate.

You try to push yourself up. Fail.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your voice comes out broken, cracked and low, but it’s the most force you can muster.

He leans forward, trying to help, but you bat his hand away—weakly.

“I’m serious,” you say, every syllable dry and angry. “Why are you here?”

"You were passed out. I tried calling and you didn’t answer, and then I—"

“So you just used your key?” You scoff, breath catching in your throat. “That’s rich. You don’t text back, you disappear for days, and now suddenly you care enough to break in?”

“I didn’t break in,” he says. His voice is too soft. “I knocked. You didn’t answer. I heard something—then I found you on the floor.”

You laugh, bitter. “Hero complex looks good on you.”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do that.”

You look at him hard, even through the haze in your vision. “Don’t what? Call you out?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t act like I don’t care.”

“You’ve spent weeks proving otherwise.”

He closes his eyes for half a second, like he’s trying to breathe through it.

“You think I wanted any of this?” he says. “You think I wanted to hurt you?”

“You did.” Your voice breaks on it. “You hurt me anyway.”

He looks down. At his hands. At the cloth he’d been using to cool your fevered skin. His grip tightens like he wants to squeeze the guilt out of it.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” he says. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But when I saw you—on the floor like that—none of that mattered. I just wanted you to be okay.”

You press your eyes shut. You hate how he says it. Like it’s tender. Like it means something.

Like it changes anything.

“You don’t get to do this,” you whisper. “You don’t get to check out, hurt me, lie by omission, and then show up and pretend like you didn’t shatter everything in the process.”

“I know,” he says. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

You open your eyes again. “You should be.”

A long silence.

You’re trembling under the blanket now, not just from fever.

“Did you—” you pause, swallowing the humiliation. “Did you change me?”

He nods, hesitating. “Just your shirt . You were drenched in sweat. I didn’t look. I swear I didn’t. I just—”

“I know.” You shake your head faintly. “I know you didn’t. That’s not—”

You sigh. It’s too much.

Your hands find the blanket, gripping it tight.

“I hate that it’s still you,” you whisper.

He looks up sharply.

“I hate that no matter how bad you fuck it up, no matter how much this hurts, it’s still you.”

He doesn’t breathe for a second.

Then he reaches for your hand.

You don’t pull away.

But you don’t grip back either.

And that feels more honest than anything either of you have said in weeks.

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The fever comes in waves after that.

One minute, you’re curled into the pillows, too weak to lift your arms. The next, you’re half-sitting up, cursing under your breath because the room won’t stop spinning.

He stays.

Through all of it.

You try to argue again—tell him to leave, that you don’t want him here—but your body won’t let you finish the sentence. You think at one point you actually pass out mid-insult.

He catches you. Every time.

Cool cloths. Sips of water. The soft sound of him whispering “It’s okay, I’ve got you” when your hands won’t stop shaking.

It should comfort you.

It doesn’t.

Because all you can think about—through the nausea, the sweat, the fog—is that he only came back after the damage was done.

After the photos.

After the trending hashtags.

After you curled up on the floor and broke into pieces he never even looked at.

You drift in and out, time slipping sideways. He stays on the edge of the bed, watching you like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again. You want to tell him he already made you disappear once.

Instead, you sleep.

When you wake next, it’s dark. The fever’s broken, but your throat is on fire and your whole body aches like you’ve been hit by something bigger than the flu.

Lando is still there.

On the floor this time. Slumped against the dresser, hoodie pulled up, arms crossed over his chest.

You stare at him. He’s sleeping, barely. Twitchy and restless, mouth pressed into a tight line like he’s fighting demons even now.

You almost call his name.

You don’t.

Instead, you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, close your eyes again, and wish you were someone else. Somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn't find you.

You dream of cameras.

Of flashes and shouting and empty passenger seats.

Of his voice saying your name like it still belongs to him.

You wake up choking on it.

And still—he’s there.

Just like always.

Just like never.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[sweetdispatch]

hiii can I do 7 water, 6 air, 3 earth, and 2 fire please!!! thank you :)))

Excuses - L. Hughes

v' elements pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Luke was lying to you and when you confronted him, he crossed the line with his words warning: heartbreak

Your relationship with Luke was perfect at the beginning. You two were obsessed with each other but something shifted when Luke started playing in New Jersey. He wasn’t paying you much attention and you understood it. You know that he’s busy now with his career and trying to earn the position in the team.

But in summer, Luke was the same. He was barely seeing you, always coming up with dumb excuses like being sick. For his back luck, you were seeing him partying and hanging out with his friends. He never asked or proposed to you to go with him. He acted like you’re invisible. 

You confronted him. You wanted to know where you’re standing. You needed to hear from him that he wants you in his life. Now, this relationship looked almost non existent but you loved him and you wanted to fight for him. Luke reassured you that he loves you but he’s too busy to see you. You believed him. 

You and Luke had been dating for a year but he started putting distance. You were wondering what you did wrong. You started questioning yourself and not his actions. This was killing you and you tried to work on yourself. Especially when you saw that Luke was following other women on instagram. You started comparing yourself to them and tried to look like them for him to still love you. 

When Luke started playing in the NHL, he saw how sweet life is. He saw that women are craving him and he can have every woman he wants. You were still at university so he couldn’t have you. That’s why he put distance in your relationship. He loved you but you weren’t there for him. 

Luke loved you too much to ask you to drop university and move with him. That’s why he was distancing himself from you. He thought that this way it’s gonna be better but it got so much into his habit, that he was distancing you even when you were there for him when he was back home. 

You were tired of Luke. Even after the conversation, he was still ignoring you. He was making up dumb excuses unaware that you see everything in social media. When you saw him in another club after he ditched on you, you knew you had to break the cycle. You sent him a text that you two have to talk. 

The next morning, Luke appeared in your house like nothing happened. Your eyes were red from all the tears you spilled last night, crying over him. Luke saw your tired face and wanted to hug you but you didn’t let him. 

“Where have you been yesterday night?” You asked him with crossed arms on your chest. 

“At home” Luke said. “Why are you asking?”

“You’re lying to me again” You said with a cold voice. 

“I am not” Luke told you. 

“I saw the photos, Luke. I know you went to the club” You said and Luke became defensive. 

“So what? I can’t go out with my friends anymore?” Luke said and you laughed. 

“I don’t care what you’re doing. I only care about the fact that you’re lying to me all the time” You told him. “If you want to break up just say it” 

“I don’t want to break up, I just want you with me in New Jersey” Luke said truthfully. 

“And you want me to believe this? You treated me like shit for the past weeks and now you expect me to move to a different city with you?” You laughed pathetically. 

“I treated you like that because you weren’t with me there” Luke fought back. 

“So this is my fault?” You asked him. 

“Yes. If you would love me, you would apply to New York for the last year of your stupid degree” Luke said with a louder voice. 

“Oh so me wanting to be a psychologist is stupid idea for you?” You asked him. 

“Yes” Luke yelled. “You knew in what you were going into when we started dating so stop acting like a victim” 

“Leave my house” You said with a cold and unpleasant voice. This brought Luke to realize what he just said. 

“Baby…” Luke tried to touch you but you backed off. 

“I said leave my house” You repeated with the same tone. 

Luke listened to you and with a sigh, he left you. He knew he fucked up and he should never said those words. He didn’t even think this way, he just wanted to win the argument. When he sat in his car, he hit the steering wheel a couple of times. The way your face dropped when he said those words were haunting him. 

You felt heartbroken. You didn’t know what to think or what to feel. You didn’t expect to hear such venomous words from Luke who was always supporting you. You started wondering if any feeling he had towards you was real or it was just an act. You didn’t even know if you’re still together.

[formulafanfics13]

Can you write something when your (charles, lando or max) little sister who’s a teen (14-16) and recently you’ve gotten involved with the wrong crowd and involved in alcohol and drugs Making them worry about you and your mental health?

She’s just a kid - LN4 (sister)

Masterlist

Summary: Lando’s 15-year-old sister starts spiraling — partying, skipping school, using drugs — and he feels powerless to help her. In desperation, he reaches out to Max Verstappen, who rallies the other F1 drivers to quietly support her through care and presence. Slowly, through soft moments and gentle honesty, she begins to let herself be seen.

Warnings: Teen drug and alcohol use, references to self-destructive behavior, emotional distress, family tension, implied mental health struggles, soft intervention and found-family themes.

She was only fifteen. 

But lately, Lando could barely recognise her.

It started with little things: late replies, dark circles under her eyes, snapping at their mum, always out with friends she never introduced. Then it got worse. Slurred words. Stumbling home too late on school nights. A vodka bottle found stuffed under her mattress. Cigarette burns in her hoodie. And then, the night she didn’t come home at all.

Lando had barely slept. His phone clutched in his hand until 4:12am, when he finally got a text that read:

“fine. don’t wait up.”

She walked through the door the next morning like nothing had happened. Makeup smudged. Hoodie half off her shoulder. Smelling like weed and something heavier.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, brushing past him.

“I’m your brother,” he snapped. “I have to look at you like that.”

She scoffed. “Yeah? Then stop acting like my dad.”

That one hit harder than she knew. Because he wasn’t her dad. He couldn’t make her stop. Couldn’t ground her. Couldn’t sit her down and force her to open up. All he had was fear, that gut-deep, helpless, what the fuck is happening to her fear, and love. So much love it felt like it was choking him.

That evening, he sat on the edge of his hotel bed, head in his hands, and texted someone he never thought he would.

To: Max Verstappen hey. can i talk to you? about my sister.

The reply came faster than expected.

From: Max Verstappen yeah mate. what’s going on?

So he told him. Everything. How she'd been going out with older kids. How she didn’t eat properly anymore. How she flinched when he tried to hug her. How he’d found pills in her makeup bag but didn’t even know what kind.

Max read it all. Then called.

“Hey,” Max said, voice quieter than usual. “I know you want to fix this. But you might not be able to do it alone.”

“She’s fifteen,” Lando said, hoarse. “She’s not like this. Not really.”

“Maybe not. But something is hurting her. If she won’t talk to you, let’s find someone she will talk to.”

Lando hesitated. “Like who?”

Max paused. “The guys know her. She grew up in the paddock. Maybe we take shifts. Watch her. Talk to her. Take her on a day out. Let her know we care.”

Lando exhaled slowly. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Max said. “She’s your sister. That makes her one of us.”

Later that week, during the Grand Prix weekend, things changed. She showed up at the track in oversized sunglasses and a fake smile, clutching an iced coffee she didn’t drink. She was glued to her phone, barely speaking to Lando, acting cool and distant like nothing could touch her.

Until Charles Leclerc showed up beside her during lunch and said softly, “I used to think getting wasted would make the pain quieter, too.”

She blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, sitting beside her like it was nothing. “Didn’t work. Just made me quieter. And worse.”

She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t leave.

Later, George Russell stopped her outside the paddock and handed her a bottle of water.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smirking. “It’s not spiked.”

She rolled her eyes but cracked a smile.

Then Yuki brought her a bag of snacks from the media centre and said, “You haven’t eaten all day. I watch you.”

She stared at him.

He grinned. “You’re like my chaotic little cousin. You’re not allowed to die.”

And maybe, just maybe, she started to listen.

[this-is-intersexism]

Hi!

I’m a perisex person as far as I am aware (I have never been to an LGBT-safe doctor to find out for sure or thought to until recently). I randomly started getting posts from you and another blog about Intersex and Intersexism on my For You page and have reblogged a lot in support.

I am a writer and an artist and I want to contribute to the growth of accurate portrayal of people in the world, whether it’s gender, sexuality, or cultures, and even if I don’t identify the same as them. I like to talk to people, as well as do my own research.

I’m submitting an ask because I saw a post about representation in media and as it is important to talk about what is wrong with it, I’m wondering: How can creators depict intersex people in a more accurate, sensitive, and respectful or honoring way in both fictional and non-fictional worlds? What would Intersex people like to see more of?

If any of this is insensitive of me, please let me know!

Thank you! 💛💜

hi! thank you for listening and supporting intersex people. it means a lot.

about intersex representation in media, here is my takes:

1) choose an actual variation for your intersex character. i mean, they may be undiagnosed, or the variation may fall under "idiopathic" category (when their intersex traits don't fit under any known "condition's" diagnostic criteria), but at least you as a creator should know how their intersexness works. a lot of people see intersexness as some kind of solid "third sex" situation and/or vague thing that makes you more androgynous when, in fact, intersex is a very broad category and intersex people have very different bodies and experiences. it isn't fetishistic or stereotypical if it's something that actually happens with real people.

2) i'd like to see more intersex characters in general. it would be cool if you were able to add several intersex characters in your stories/projects! not all of them have to be the main characters. casual representation matters and helps to normalize things. it's cool when random side character is intersex and just exists. also, it helps to avoid a lot of issues with stereotypes and tokenism. it gives opportunity to show diversity in our community. it also prevents your audience from thinking that the only way of being intersex is [what your only intersex character has]. so it's generally cool for every kind of representation.

3) maybe my personal thing, but give your intersex characters other marginalized identities! i often see this thing in media when the character has one marginalized identity, and it's all. like marginalization is some kind of limited stuff, one thing in one pair of hands. like if character is disabled they can't be queer or POC or even have several disabilities, etc. i mean. give us intersex POC. give us intersex disabled people. give us intersex people with other queer identities. don't limit yourself by only one marginalized identity per character.

4) this is overlapping with disability representation, but. avoid making misery porn. like, when you scroll this blog, you may see a lot of horrible stories of mistreatment and abuse and marginalization. while it's important topic to discuss and depict, it requires knowledge and sensitivity and balance to show respectfully. if your intersex character is constantly mistreated and suffers and is abused because of their intersexness, it may be painful to see for intersex audience and it may accidentally reinforce the idea that our lives are horrible and we should be "fixed" or better dead than living like that. eugenics is an actual problem for intersex community. a lot of people, for example, "consent" on igm for their children because they are afraid that their children would suffer horribly if they got to live with their intersex bodies. a lot of doctors hide diagnoses and medical documents from intersex patients because they think that these people will be terrified and morally crashed if they find out. so there is a fine line between realistic depiction of intersex struggles and misery porn. if you're going to write about intersexism, find a sensitivity reader.

5) i include this because you're new in intersex community. so. avoid popular stereotypes. bigenitalia ≠ intersex (bigenitalia as in two separate perisex-looking perisex-working sets of genitals). your character may have both penis and vagina, but it would be intersex penis (for example, phalloclitoris or hypospadiac penis) and intersex vagina (for example, shallow vagina). so again, look at actual variations and intersex people's descriptions of their lives. in fantasy settings, if the whole species has different sex traits than humans, this species is not intersex as a whole. intersex is about individual variations in sex traits that are untypical for this species. whole species can't be intersex. i personally would like to see nonhuman intersex characters from species with different sex traits (i even have one in my own setting). it can help break the misconception that species with non-gonochoric anatomy are "intersex species" and may actually motivate people to learn what intersex means. but be cautious if your only intersex character is nonhuman and all human characters are perisex (if all your characters are nonhumans, it's fine). because it can accidentally contribute to the dehumanization of intersex people (like this "all asexuals in setting are robots" or "all nonbinary characters in setting are aliens"). this problem can be avoided by adding even one background human intersex character.

other intersex people, feel free to add!

[croquettish]

Thank you for talking about this because I’ve felt pretty shut down in fandom about the comphet idea before. The response is always like “well headcanon whatever you like but he has sex with women so you’re definitely wrong”. But I don’t think it is a headcanon, it’s how I interpreted the canon events of the game when I played it, before I saw any fandom opinions. It’s okay for others to interpret him as bisexual, but surely there’s a difference between Henry who proposes marriage to practically every woman he bangs and has canonically been in love with a woman before (Bianca), and Hans who pursues women but completely loses interest in them after the ‘conquest’, says he’s never been in love with any of them, and mainly brings them up in 2 only to deflect Henry’s romance lines. Then with Henry he makes a love confession (involving a super gay story he’s been holding onto in his mind for who knows how long) and clearly wants to continue the relationship afterwards. It seems important to me that this is THE FIRST TIME we’ve seen him in a genuine love relationship, and it’s with a man. If a piece of media shows me that story - man can’t find love no matter how hard he tries until he falls for another man - I’m going to assume their intent was to show me a gay character, not a bisexual character.

Having sex with women gives Hans a lot of advantages beyond getting off. He’s not very good at connecting with people, but he is handsome, so flirting/sex is an easy way for him to get validation. He gets to escape things he doesn’t want to do, or alleviate his total boredom, in a socially acceptable way by running off with women. Womanising also helps him live up to what he thinks nobles ought to be like. I think there’s justification for him to pursue women (and even actually think he enjoys it) while not really being that attracted to them.

I can see it if people want to say he’s bisexual and just such a misogynist that it’s hard for him to love a woman, but then what’s the point of describing him solely as bisexual, if you see what I mean… why is the biological fact of where he can stick it apparently the most important thing…

Trust me, I definitely get you. It is frustrating. I haven't seen anyone disrespect people for headcanoning him as bisexual, meanwhile we're told it's morally wrong to headcanon him as anything else. To me that is deeply disrespectful.

The "he has sex with women" is a wild fucking argument to make, honestly. For one thing, he had sex with women. Past tense. For another thing, there is a non-zero chance that that actually never happened. I'm not saying it's very likely, but given that we know that he canonically failed with Karolina and that his favorite bath maid is the only bath maid that he literally isn't allowed to touch, we have literally zero proof that he's actually ever fucked a woman.

But let's move forward saying that he did. As far as things are in canon, he hasn't gone around sleeping with women since leaving Rattay. Even if you decide that Karolina is real (she isn't), then his last time sleeping with a woman was while everyone was at the Devil's Den. When he tries to talk to the women at the baths there he strikes out! So all we know is that he used to have sex with women. It's his choice of whether or not he decides to continue to do so.

All of the points you've brought up are extremely solid. Hard agree on all of those. I would further add on the fact that Hans, back when he was (maybe) sleeping with women, was not aware of the fact that men were even an option. Until I was 20, I went through life absolutely convinced that I was 100% straight. And I was aware of the fact that people could be queer. Hans didn't know that. At most he would have heard that sodomy is a sin. And he was desperate to find the sort of love he'd read about in books and heard of in tales. Of course he was going to be searching for that love in all the places he thought he was supposed to.

[sototallynormaliswear]

The Magnus Archives has irreparably altered the way I interact with media so here's Teen Wolf Fear Alignments:

(minor spoilers for TMA and Teen Wolf)

Derek: do I really even need to say The Hunt? let's be so real right now, if you think its something else I'd love to have an indepth discussion about your reasonings and also why you are wrong (/hj).

Scott: The Slaughter is all about fear of senseless violence, which uh. Is kinda Scott's deal. A lot of the episodes of TMA that are about the Slaughter are very animal focused, slaughter houses, random pits of meat, a pig that eats people alive. Fitting for a vet in training

Stiles: that's the Spiral, babey look at him. he's that guy that walked out of the fear dimension completely fine because he got distracted thinking about walking his dog. but the spiral is about losing your sense of reality, your sense of self, literally just. being lost. seems like his deal

Allison: see I want to say The Hunt again but like. that doesn't feel accurate to me?? that scene in season 3 where her mother is screaming at her for being unable to thread a needle while Scott bleeds out on the floor is like a cornerstone of how I see her. she hates feeling out of control, out of the loop, unable to help. she specifically hates how she runs to others when dealing with monsters so I'm going with The Dark, which she would also hate because it sounds so childish

Lydia: Lydia needs to have so very much control over how people see her. I'm saying The Eye, but the spiral would still work. The Eye is about being watched, being known, even and especially without permission. a lot of Lydia's story is about people knowing things about her that she doesn't and keeping it from her, as well as her knowing things that she couldnt possibly know. Number one candidate for accidently becoming The Archivist right here

Jackson: The Stranger fr fr. the whole reason he's a lizard is that he's been having an identity crisis for YEARS. he covers it up by being a dick but he basically defines himself by his lacrosse skills and popular kid status, which is why he hates Scott so much. That scene where he's hallucinating his birth parents and they turn around and they have no face? Veryyyy Stranger

Erica: The Flesh. like man Im sorry if you think it's something else but girl literally chose to have a screw be driven through her skull and be hunted for the rest of her life just to get away from her seizures. and she was right to do it.

Isaac: Canonically struggles with claustrophobia. The Buried. In a more metaphorical sense, The Buried is feeling trapped in a state of being, and the other name that it gets in the series, the Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe, reminds me of him. also one of the avatars we see in TMA

Boyd: The Lonely. man would have DIED for friends (he did die for friends ha ha who said that). We dont know anything about his family besides the fact that he blames himself for his sister being missing and presumed dead.

Peter: The Desolation. YEAHHHHHH, not really a surprise there, the man that was trapped in a burning building that killed almost all his family was afraid of fire. give me a prize. but as a step back, the Desolation is about losing everything you love and never recovering and uh. :)))) that's Peter :')))))

tell me who I should pick next!

[azulasarcana]

— 𝘕𝘤𝘵 𝘞𝘪𝘴𝘩 how they confess 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯ ˚꒦꒷🍫꒷．˚. 𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍

‧₊˚ ♡⸝⸝ ꩜ - ,, ᯓ

Based on tarot for entertainment purposes only

———————————————

Sion

Sion would be really messy when it comes to confessing his feelings. It’s probably not something he plans out carefully or thinks too deeply about. He might act a little foolish and childish when he’s going after his crush, maybe even overact around them. He could get really talkative and have this loud “look at me” energy whenever they’re around. Because of that, he might come off clumsy, saying the wrong things, doing too much, not letting things flow naturally. He could also be really competitive, not so much with other people but with time itself. He doesn’t want to waste any of it, he wants his crush to give him their full attention. So when he finally confesses, he might honestly come off a bit of a loser just because he’s moving and talking too fast, which might make him seem less attractive. He probably wouldn’t have the best luck with this approach.

Riku

Riku might be a bit of a hopeless romantic. He’d probably approach his crush with a lot of kindness and spoiling. He might even be the type to love bomb or come on really fast and direct about how he feels. There’d be tons of compliments and big promises, but they’d end up being short lived and kind of empty. His confession might seem super thoughtful and romantic at first, but once he’s said everything, he might suddenly pull back and lose that sweet, affectionate side. His efforts might look really caring on the surface, but they’d actually be kind of shallow or misguided. He might buy his crush gifts or things he thinks they’d like just because they’re trendy, instead of taking the time to find something truly meaningful to them. He also might confess in group settings. (not literally in front of everyone, but in that kind of setting where they’re hanging out with friends.) I believe he’d probably prefer getting to know someone through mutual friends or shared circles.

Jaehee

He wouldn’t. Jaehee might not have the confidence or the courage to confess to his crush. It’s possible he’s been rejected a few times before, or had one big rejection that really shaped how he views love and romance now. I get the sense that maybe someone he liked chose someone else over him, which made him not want to compete for anyone’s affection anymore. If he knew for sure that his crush liked him back and there wasn’t anyone else involved, then maybe he’d take the chance to confess but otherwise, he’d rather just keep his feelings to himself.

Ryo

Ryo would be the type to confess to his crush publicly. I see him as someone who’d write love songs about his crush and perform them for everyone, without anyone realizing who they’re really about. He might also write them love letters. His approach feels kind of sneaky, almost like he’s sending subliminal messages. He’d make indirect posts about them on social media for example, reposting TikToks or putting things on his Instagram story that are so obviously about them, but if you didn’t know the context, you might miss it. Or he might subtweet about them. I don’t think he’d directly confess, all his attempts feel pretty secretive. He’d just hope they pick up on the hints and figure out his true feelings.

Sakuya

Sakuya would think long and hard before making a move toward his crush. He’d go over every possible outcome and weigh every decision carefully. He might go back and forth a lot between confessing and holding back. But once he finally makes up his mind, he’s all in there’s no stopping him. When he confesses, he’s bold and completely straightforward. No mixed signals, no confusion, just a clear, direct confession. He’s the easiest one to read. His approach is simple, debate if he should, and if the answer is yes, then take action.

Yushi

Yushi might try to figure out everything he can about his crush through other people before actually confessing. There’s a lot of talking to others about his crush instead of talking directly to them. He’d want to know all the good and bad, maybe even gossip a little. He might pay attention to who they hang out with so he can befriend those people just to get closer to their energy indirectly. He might even hope those friends will put in a good word for him. He’s another one who takes a long time to finally confess. But when he does, he might surprisingly be really bold. I could see him going all in and straight up kissing them as his way of confessing. It feels unexpected because Yushi seems so shy 😭 but he probably has that fantasy of a big, passionate confession followed by a kiss.

Note: Sorry if this is short or not that interesting to read. I was kinda rushing, I have no motivation right now but I needed to post something.

[writingdarling]

Hiii i dont know how to word this im awkward sorry but could i request reader x killerchat dateables with reader thats like trying different ways to murder but the media thinks theres a lot of new killer merging? When reader reveals their killername its either like a lot of names and sounds unbelievable or just one name with a few murders? IM NOT GOOD AT EXPLAINING SORRY! You can change anything if you like or dont understand! Or ignore this if you want to

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH ANON

UGHHHHHH IT'S SO CREATIVE

I feel like even I can't do it as much justice as it deserves

I did add on one extra thing, where reader will imitate whatever their love interests murder styles are cause I thought that was adorable

Killer Chat L.I’s & Indecisive!Reader (Serial Killer vers)

Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence

Premise:

You, a journalist by day, serial killer by night, tend to be….well, indecisive about your killing methods. You have your old reliable weapons and strategies yeah, but you can’t help but want to try out new tactics, new weapons ! But of course, the media tends to group similar kills to just one name, so of course, you end up with more than a few aliases.

And maybe, after you join the server, you tend to take inspiration from the other killers around you too…

Ronin

On all of his background checks, before he even sends you the link to the server, everything points to you just being a uninspired writer, trying and failing to write up a serial killer character

A young, newly employed journalist, who tends to write news about “The Butcher” or “The Heartsick Angel”. Who asks too many questions about killing methods.

He doesn’t send the link as a way to invite you into his world, no. 

He invites you just to watch you squirm

But when you do arrive..

You fit in almost instantly, giggling at cannibalism jokes they throw around like nothing, answering questions about your favourite murder weapon like you know it by heart

Either you're really, really into your main character or..

When Ronin video calls you, he swears you’re literally shining

You don’t even let him finish his first sarcastic sentence, cutting him off to…compliment him ??? on his newest murder

“You  never answered the question I asked.” You pout at him through the screen

“...Hah, if you wanna know so bad, why not go out and kill with a crowbar yourself darlin’?”

You blink. Then a soft smile slips onto your face

“Won’t get mad if the media calls me your copycat right ?”

Ronin smirks. “Imitation is the best form of flattery babe, have at it.”

He wonders whether your trying to flip the tables, trying to toy with him like he was with you

The next day he watches the news talk about a “Butcher Copycat Killer”. 

He chokes on his coffee and rushes to video call you

“You said you wouldn’t be mad.” You mumble, half asleep, blood splatter still on your hand

“What the fuck.”

After that he eventually gets your real (and multiple) serial killer aliases and he’s speechless for once

“Fuck, you’re really…huh, remind me not to piss you off.”

He respects you more after that, especially when you start posting more murders, inspired by his own

Calls you his biggest fan and he's not wrong honestly. 

If you ever complain about having too many aliases for murder strategies you hate, Ronin will gladly kill some asshole and help you frame them as whatever alias you were trying to get rid off

“I guess you are useful, Butcher.”

“I'm always useful darlin’, you just haven't seen my true potential yet.”

Angel

“Do you actually do cannibalism or it that just a joke :(“

Angel stares at the message you send, half sad for you when she tells you that no, she does not actually eat her kills

“Oh….. Second question, would you mind if I take a page from your book and start sharpshooting?”

She thinks your multiple aliases and imitation kills are so very adorable

To her, it feels like you're a kid in a candy store, grabbing at any method of killing that strikes you as interesting 

She loves it, probably tells the entire server and eggs you on to copy each of their specialties

Angel loves taking you out for murder spree dates, usually entitled ass holes that both of you enjoy murdering

The Heartsick Angel and whatever alias you were using for the murder gets featured in so many news channels

Some channels even claim that Angel and you are a new, “Muder couple, similar to the likes of Bonnie and Clyde.”

Oh and if that didn't make Angel swoon enough, the amount of times you help her murder someone on her list before she can get to them definitely does

“Fuck, baby you are such a romantic~”

She's no Ronin but you two definitely tend to make out after a murderous date

Either in her home or in the victims house

(ik ik I'm losing the plot here sorry-) 

If V or Ronin gets on your ass about your “lacks of kills” on the alias you told them about (assuming you only told Angel and not everyone) 

Ohhh Angel will quite literally act like your guardian angel

She tells them off harshly

Ronin claims favouritism, V shuts up

And only you and her know the truth

“Maybe you should make a new name for yourself darling.”

Angel murmurs into your hair, freshly washed after a tryout with a chainsaw

“Something that matches my killer name maybe…”

Misaki

When you tell them about exactly how many aliases you were forced to create after trying out different murder tactics, the first thing she does is laugh at you

“That's– Hah! That's such a you thing babe, oh my gosh.”

But when you bring up maybe emulating their own style of killing well, Misaki gets so interested so fast

“Awwwww, you're so cute. ‘Course I could show you the ropes to being an assassin honey dumpling!”

The first mission you ever do, courtesy of Misaki giving you the job, they’re right there on voice chat

Their voice soothing you as you steady the gun, aiming just like she had taught you…. 

You make the kill, clean and simple

Misaki cheers so loud you nearly topple off the building you're on 

After that? Oh they're obsessed with your work

Somehow killing isn't so scary when they know you're on the other side of the world doing the exact same thing. 

And unlike Misaki, you are more than happy to ask V for a little favour… 

That favour being Misaki getting flown over to your town for a shared assassination

You almost don't complete the job, too focus on how right it feels to be right next to her as she angles their gun towards the first target

Once the job is done, you get to keep them with you for longer than necessary and for once, Misaki enjoys being pampered

If you show them all the methods you've learnt and tried out over the years they would be so fucking into it

“Oh yeah babe tell me exactly how you killed that guy with a butter knife.”

They even start picking up some of your weirder kills

goreboy: @ hitmeuppp how the tf did you kill this guy with a spray bottle

hitmeuppp: I gotta thank my prettiest pookie for that idea

V

He's… horrified at first

“How many innocent lives… how much blood..”

He changes his tune when you assure him you only kill shitty people though

“Oh thank god...I'm sorry for the assumption. Ronin seemed to have traumatised me more than anticipated.”

He's nicer to you after that, if a little awkward

Then suddenly he messages you an entire table with all of your aliases, along with suggested alibis and updated murder strategies. 

“I assume that juggling that many personas can be tiring, I thought I could help you with that mental load.”

V becomes your favourite person on that server real quick

You start asking him more personal questions, what knives he prefers, which animals take to the human meat better than others

“Hypothetically. If I were to…imitate your style of justice…would you mind?”

You don't see it but that question has him staring at his laptop for a while 

He answers back after 1 hour later

“I’m…flattered, truly. If you’d like I could send you more details concerning my methods.”

Do not believe how calm he sounds through text, this man is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt from behind the screen

After V checks out that you really would be a good fit for his more, carnivorous, animals, he gifts you a wolfdog and a wild safari cat, both acquired from illegal and abusive breeders

You make them absolutely delicious meals from your victims

V feels quite happy that he’s not the only non serial killer on the server anymore

Ronin calls him fucking delusional when he says exactly that and he video calls you and rants for 2 and a half hours about it

When you get too overwhelmed with the small details of each of your killer personas, you can always count on V to help you get things sorted out

If you two ever work on a case together ? Oh he acts so damn sweet and charming

“I suppose we could take a shortcut through the shopping district if you’d like, beloved.” (literally hunting a guy down)

When Ronin’s confrontation happens, he’s the first to come to your defense, with your blessing he sends the table he had previously made for you

“I know for a fact that they are a “serial killer”. Though I do still think that they are not in fact a “serial killer”, more of an agent of justice like myself-”

Ronin mutes him long enough to tell you that, sure he believes you

He has to with the way V quite literally goes on about how noble you are

V probably compliments you on how creative your kills tend to be

"It really is a miracle with how you can kill with the most brutal of weapons, and still leave the body intact for feed."

He smiles, soflty, genuinely at you through the screen

"Perhaps I should be taking some lessons from you as well."

RAHHHHH

I feel like this isn't even my best work but I was writing through a fever lol so I hope this does your idea justice anon >:>

[mylovesstuffs]

major spoilers are under the cut 😞

@/yurivictims: this means only one thing in korea — ‼️‼️‼️ reminds me of how my brother and vernon dated!!!

↪@/yurivictims: "prone to schizophrenia" sounds about right — yeah, sounds about just right!

↪@/2lazyforuserid: i am 29 ofc i say fuck — 😭😭😭

@/koreaboo: y/n of lunar, caught smoking on a seoul street — omg we got smoking rumor lmao!!! and yes, yn seems like an indie character.

@/yeseularts: okay why the fuck are we still debating the smoking situation? y/n is a grown adult, and she's smoking a cigarette, not hurting people. shut up and let her live — god forbid a woman commits the crime of being perceived. touch grass. drink water. log off.

@/woozilovers: y/n's scandal ranking, #1: misandry [=], #2 smoking [NEW] — misandry being #1 is honestly her doing community service. smoking at #2 is just ✨aesthetic✨ try again when she commits a real crime like dropping a bad album.

@/yurivictims: don't let yn's smoking scandal distract you from the fact that we're getting AOTY this year — this user is so fr!!!

@/yurivictims: byeol yeseul and yn really said NO FUCKS GIVEN ↪@/woozilovers: idk if i want yn or if i want to be yn — i’d be in her cult if she started one.

@/yurivictims: NEW SONG AND ITS QUEER CODED? A WIN? — OMG IT'S “Where we used to be”!!!!! OMG

↪@/yurivictims; "musical genius, the weight of the world on your shoulders", look me in the eye and tell me it is not yeseul and byeol tell me — No it is about Jihoon!!! The lyric is so Jihoon coded istg.

@/koreaboo: celestial entertainment and pledis ent issue joint statement regarding dating rumours of their artists y/n and woozi: they are close colleagues — i read “close colleagues” and immediately heard liar liar pants on fire in my head 😭

@/woozilovers: koreaboo is a blight on society and must be eradicated ↪@/yurivictims: you ship them ↪@/woozilovers: im not forcing them to sign the marriage certificate stfu — i need popcorn.

@/yurivictims: i be having a good day and this bitch comes to ruin shit for me @/koreaboo — lmaoooo user yurivictims treats koreaboo like it’s their sworn nemesis and honestly? valid. we are like this sometimes too.

@/koreaboo: lunar's yn, "i think woozi is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation" — I mean, yes. smau aside i would say this with my full chest irl. woozi deserves that sentence in 4K. me as yeseularts or mylovesstuffs would’ve tattooed this quote on my forehead tbh

@/yeseularts: man i thought this was a joke at first but i cant defend you guys anymore — i just KNOW she closed the app and took a walk after this 💀 or ykw? the downfall of the last sane one… rip yeseul’s tolerance bar.

@/yurivictims: okay gimme 3 reasons why u think yn is dating woozi↪@/woozilovers: han river dates, song refs, they even have couple items↪@/yurivictims: and 50 million other people have the same item, are they in a relationship? — i need woozilovers to present their powerpoint next, lmao. yurivictims really said “coincidence isn’t evidence” and tbh i respect the skepticism 😭 and OKAyyY but couple items AND han river dates... idk bestie the math is mathing a little

—

y/n @2lazyforuserid

why is jihoon in my dms telling me I should "exercise caution" in interviews like you are any better??? — GIRLLLLLL yfcdxtezryxydychc. yn really said transparency over PR. this is giving “accidentally posted from the main instead of the burner” energy and i’m LIVING. This really said transparency over PR. i support women’s wrongs.

—

celeste @yeseularts. Replying to @2lazyforuserid

WRONG ACCOUNT GIRL— the speed at which yeseularts clocked that slip... media training who?

—

Choi byeols #1 enemy @/yurivictim: I'm gonna close my account if this is real | y/n noticed me @/lunatic101: are we seeing woozi and yn get into a relationship in real time? | y/n @/yeppeuda: fuck | 우지 | Seventeen @/leejihoon: because you never do it — no bc this is like watching a soft launch, a hard launch, and a PR nightmare all within 5 minutes 😭

@/woozilovers: sensing something shift in the universe... ominous↪@/yeseularts: oomf you might be right about that — i love these interactions 😭😭😭 also, i think woozilovers might just be right. we might be right!

@/woozilovers: ...what | @/yeseularts: no way...oomf vindicated | @/yurivictims: [CLOSED]. — BAHAHAHAHAKJHKSAHRD 🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭

@/woozilovers: do i get to come to the wedding?— woozilovers is iconic lmaooo

should have been you (l.jh)

when everything goes wrong, everything goes wrong (and taking your fate in your hands is not a bad thing) hahah what do you mean writing an smau in a day is a bad idea? but yes, i had a lot of fun doing this and well, this is dedicated to my lovies: @haologram, who helped me write the whole thing, and got excited at all the right places, @mylovesstuffs, bc she sent a three-hundred word paragraph yelling at me about how good the idea was, and ofc my little freaks who asked to be tagged: @facethesunflower, @gyupremacy ! enjoy, and let me know what u think!

@/yurivictims: this means only one thing in korea

@/woozilovers: svt and lunar maknaes posting cute photos of woozi and yn? i'm nooticing

↪@/yurivictims: "prone to schizophrenia" sounds about right

@/yeseularts: how are you feeling about going back into the studio maam

↪@2lazyforuserid: man idk ive got creaking joints but the studio is a fuck ton better than the gym, celeste <3

@/yurivictims: NO WAY YN DROPPED THE F BOMB

↪@/2lazyforuserid: i am 29 ofc i say fuck

@/koreaboo: y/n of lunar, caught smoking on a seoul street

@/yeseularts: okay why the fuck are we still debating the smoking situation? y/n is a grown adult, and she's smoking a cigarette, not hurting people. shut up and let her live

@/woozilovers: y/n's scandal ranking, #1: misandry [=], #2 smoking [NEW]

@/leeuji: "she smokes" okay and? I STILL LOVE HER

@/yurivictims: don't let yn's smoking scandal distract you from the fact that we're getting AOTY this year

@/yurivictims: byeol yeseul and yn really said NO FUCKS GIVEN

↪@/woozilovers: idk if i want yn or if i want to be yn

@/yeseularts: saw their bandmate getting criticised for a lil smoke and said 'we dont care about ur moral policing' that is my FAMILY yall

@/woozilovers: HUH? TOMORROW? TOMORROW NEW SONG? YEARNING TIME?

@/woozilovers: "your hair spilled out onto the white sheets, your eyes that hold galaxies in them" WOOZI DOWN BAD

@/woozilovers: this song is about yn-[TRAIN PASSES BY]

@/yeppeuda: no way he uploaded that song. finefinefinefinecoolcoolcoolcool im fine actually

@/leeuji: does she know?

@/yurivictims: NEW SONG AND ITS QUEER CODED? A WIN?

↪@/yurivictims; "musical genius, the weight of the world on your shoulders", look me in the eye and tell me it is not yeseul and byeol tell me

@/yeseularts; y/n indie release... im so up

@/koreaboo: celestial entertainment and pledis ent issue joint statement regarding dating rumours of their artists y/n and woozi: they are close colleagues

@/yurivictims: shut the fuck up koreaboo

@/woozilovers: koreaboo is a blight on society and must be eradicated

↪@/yurivictims: you ship them

↪@/woozilovers: im not forcing them to sign the marriage certificate stfu

@/woozilovers: both yn and woozi pining all over their songs..is it that serious

@/koreaboo: seventeen's woozi, "I do enjoy Lunar's music" (lnk.to)

@/yurivictims: i be having a good day and this bitch comes to ruin shit for me @/koreaboo

@/koreaboo: lunar's yn, "i think woozi is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation"

@/yeseularts: man i thought this was a joke at first but i cant defend you guys anymore

@/yurivictims: okay gimme 3 reasons why u think yn is dating woozi

↪@/woozilovers: han river dates, song refs, they even have couple items

↪@/yurivictims: and 50 million other people have the same item, are they in a relationship?

@/woozilovers: that did not happen right im not hallucinating right did @/yurivictims curse me with schizophrenia guys

@/woozilovers: sensing something shift in the universe... ominous

↪@/yeseularts: oomf you might be right about that

@/woozilovers: ...what

@/yeseularts: no way...oomf vindicated

@/yurivictims: [CLOSED].

@/koreaboo: Celestial entertainment and pledis ent. both confirm that y/n of lunar and woozi of seventeen are in a relationship, "we ask you to look upon them with kindness."

@/woozilovers: do i get to come to the wedding?

[straightbaittournament]

may the best bait win! propaganda under the cut

sosuke and miu:

Had very clear set-up with multiple moments showing Miu be into Sousuke (for example, someone says "when you think of someone you like, you get more power!" and Miu immediately thinks back to a time she was concerned for Sousuke in battle, and the goes "Why did I remember that!?"). However, they never actually get together despite all the build up. Miu is explicitly shown to have romantic feelings for Sosuke and Sosuke is oblivious. However it never really goes anywhere beyond hints.

norea and el5n:

One of them (Norea) was killed just after accepting a proposal to travel the world with Elan. Spoilers! Norea gets killed right as she is agreeing to El5n's plea for them to escape the war* and run away together instead of laying down their lives as replaceable tools. *(referring to it as "the war" is a oversimplification of the political conflict they're involved in, done on purpose to save time/space for this submission)  (Side note that I think should be taken into consideration in classifying the ship as straight bait: The actual main couple of the show is an f/f couple. They are engaged to be married [Update because the finale just aired today: epilogue shows them now married with their wedding rings on], they both live, & their developing relationship is a main driving force for the plot, in-part because said engagement is a very purposeful Revolutionary Girl Utena reference, because the show's head writer also wrote the novel adaptation of Utena) [END OF SPOILERS] So El5n was actually really annoying to watch for most people when he was introduced, but watching El5n and Norea annoy each other was very enjoyable, especially while they were locked in a room together (along with Nika) because any of them being out and about would be inconvenient for the faction each of them had gotten tangled up with. but then this stuff happened: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPTQR3WcAYTFpN?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPTWITWwAMfTmv?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPTzvgWYAAmRZR?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPT5C4WcAAREsC?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPUvdrWAAAnvVO?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPU_NdXoAABias?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPVDdCWAAAWAl7?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPVH_oWAAIX3eC?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPVeJdXwAQEqWD?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPVh_5WcAIQ3R7?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPVnDwWcAAVwWy?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPV27AXgAEEDn_?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPWE6RXoAIsTrv?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FxPWPzSWIAIvgMz?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5BqufXoAEiIvL?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5BtiuXoAgKGfE?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5CsN-WYAM-_Qa?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5C626XoAAc5zl?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5DE55XgBgBdu4?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5DJS2XgAA4RkC?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5FUsSWwAcj0mI?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5NryzXsAAw3QG?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5NqLnXwAAFpr-?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5N9RUWcAEZWOZ?format=jpg&name=medium https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Fx5OxnvWwAMSSiQ?format=jpg&name=medium [BUDDY I DONT EVEN KNOW BUT OPEN THOSE IMAGES AT YOUR PERIL]

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

[wintaebear]

it's astonishing to me how they're trying to frame faifa's kindness as an inherently bad thing

[its-no-biggie]

you know what, im making this its own post. "consuming media" is actually an excellent phrase for several reasons

a) unobtrusive catch-all term for many activities, including but not limited to: reading books, watching movies, listening to podcasts, watching tv shows, listening to music, and reading comics. there are many ways to take in (i.e consume) different forms of art (i.e media), and having an inclusive and concise term to refer to that is useful. ive seen posts suggesting replacing "consumed" with "enjoyed" or "experienced" or "engaged with", and these are all fine and good phrases to use but none of them mean only "to take [sth] in" the way that reading/watching/consuming does. each one conveys additional meaning, which is good if thats your intention but distracting if it isnt

b) this is maybe where i risk losing people, but personally i do not associate the verb "to consume" with the noun "consumer" - at least in the usage people are talking about when drawing this comparison. a consumer is an economic entity: one who *buys* goods and services. you can be a consumer (buying books) without consuming anything (reading them). of course, there are people whose consumption of art is purely in the economic sense - people who post shopping hauls of books theyll never read, or people who pay exorbitant prices for luxury items purely because of how expensive they are. but personally ive never seen these kinds of activities described as "consuming media" - theres valid criticism to be made here about consumerism and art, but its being misdirected at people using a word that *sounds like* consumer in a completely different context. [like honestly - a lot of people who consume media arent even consumers at all 🏴‍☠️]

and c) beyond the most basic definition (to take [sth] in) and the unfortunate economic association (consumer), the verb "to consume" has EXCELLENT connotations. to consume is to devour. it is to take a piece of art and ingest it so thoroughly that it can never be separated from you. to wring out every last drop of meaning from the text, even knowing you will never be able to understand it in its entirety. to change and to be changed. theres a reason people talk about art with phrases like "i want to eat this" "i wish i could inject this into my veins" "this lives in my head rent free" - we are always searching for ways to say "i love this so much that it has become a part of me". isnt that beautiful? take my hand. lets consume media together

[ranger-kellyn]

can't believe people """only"""" (bc we all know you can only talk about one singular thing and care about one thing at a time) want to talk about taylor's album and not the ever present horrors of the world. can't believe that so long as there is something bad happening in the world, we're not allowed to enjoy anything else or seek solace and refuge to give us the motivation to continue whatever fights we're fighting

[asterdeer]

i do think sonic the hedgehog is at his best with the slight edge of melancholy that having no permanent home or place to settle down gives him. obviously for the more basic games that's not really a consideration but when you get to actual story stuff, he's just so carefree and lighthearted and silly but also determined and full of love for his friends - it's all a little much. but give him that hint of aimlessness, perpetual searching, never-quite-rightness, the wandering hedge knight vibe, and suddenly all that goofy funny-egotistical overwhelm just. hits different. it's the difference between a fun video game mascot and a hero you can get invested in.