#I don’t really know if I should’ve posted this..? I don’t know if it was necessary to clarify where I am or what I’m doing.. but I realized

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[allenwalkersworld]

Usually, I stay away from stan culture because it’s just filled with so much toxicity and I truly believe that streaming really ruined how people listen to music.

However, once the racism pops out that’s when I’m fighting each and everyone. It’s one thing to say that your favorite artist deserves a Grammy but it’s another thing to put down an artist that worked twice as hard to get to where she is.

And yes, I’m talking about the AOTY (album of the year) discourse that I’m seeing (mainly this post is a response to TikTok). I don’t give damn if you think Billie or Taylor or anyone else should’ve won. Everyone has their opinions, but what we would not do is discredit Beyonce, a black woman who is KNOWN to be snub by the Grammys.

Please do not come to me with “she has more than 30 Grammys” and none of those Grammys were AOTY. Now, she finally has one to her catalogue and y’all are gonna come out with the most racist and misogynistic shit that I have ever seen. So the other times when she was snub, yall was okay, but because y’all fave shed one damn tear, it’s okay to be flat out racist and discredit the fucking 25 years of hard work that Beyonce put in.

Please miss me with that bull. I’m so serious. DO NOT EVER COME TO ME AND SAY JAY Z BOUGHT HER AWARDS OR THAT BEYONCE BOUGHT IT. DO NOT EVER COME TO MY PAGE EVER DISCREDITING BLACK WOMEN. DO NOT EVER SPEAK ON BEYONCE WHO FINALLY HAS GOTTEN HER AOTY WHEN SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BEEN HAVE IT FOR LEMONADE!

I hope y’all know that y’all are really displaying is what I like to call “white feminism”.

Anyways, congrats Queen Bey 🐝 you deserve it!!!

[mediocre-shark-tales]

End of the First Season

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

After the season wrapped up, I finally found a moment of calm. The chaos of F1 had slowed, and I was allowed a little breathing room. But even with the peace, I couldn't shake the constant ache in my body. I thought the bruising I had gotten from the Abu Dhabi crash would eventually subside, but it never did. Every day, it seemed to hurt a little more, so I finally caved and went to the doctor to get checked out.

I wasn’t prepared for the news. It wasn’t just bruising. My ribs had cracked, and so had a bone in my right forearm. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—no wonder I’d been hurting so much. But, being me, I just shrugged it off. If there was one thing I’d learned over this crazy season, it was how to power through. And if I could make it through that wreck, I could handle a couple cracked bones, right?

I needed to break the news, of course, but I had a little fun with it. I posted on Instagram, sharing all the high points of my 2024 season—my wins, my podiums, the laughs, the frustrations. But as the last picture in the post, I slid in a photo collage of my X-rays. Just for the shock value, of course. 

The response was exactly what I expected. I saw the comments flood in—fans, media, and especially the drivers. They were all so concerned, immediately freaking out about me being in pain, even though I was smiling through it all. Some of the messages I got were hilarious, like Lando calling me crazy for not telling him sooner. “You’re seriously not a robot, right?” he texted me, complete with a couple of eye-roll emojis.

And then there was Max. Max Verstappen. He was texting me every five minutes, demanding I go see another doctor. "You should’ve told me. I would've taken care of it for you." Like he was going to fly out to Monaco just to be my personal healthcare assistant. I almost laughed at how protective he was being, but honestly, it was sweet.

Liam, of course, had the most dramatic reaction. "y/n, what the hell?! Why didn’t you tell me about this?" he practically screamed down the phone. "This could’ve been a big deal! You could’ve been seriously hurt!"

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Liam, calm down. I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with it. It’s just some cracked bones.”

But he wasn’t having it. "That’s not something you ‘just deal with.’ You need to get checked out, properly. I’m seriously getting worried now."

At that point, I had to assure him—no more freaking out. Everyone was so sweet, though. Even Carlos sent a message telling me to take it easy and that he was looking forward to seeing me next season. “Just don’t go crashing again, okay?”

I even caught a text from Fernando, who simply said: “You’re strong, but next time… maybe take it easy?”

The support from all the drivers was overwhelming, but honestly, it was what I needed. The kind words, the check-ins, it made me feel like I had a big family backing me up.

I had also made the decision recently to buy an apartment in Monaco. It wasn’t something I’d planned at first, but Lando convinced me it was the perfect move. He was all about the idea of having me live close by so we could hang out in the off-season when I wasn’t visiting family back in the U.S. Plus, Monaco seemed like the kind of place where I could really start fresh, living on my own but still be surrounded by people who understood the craziness of F1 life. Lando lives just above me, and we joke that I’m now not on "Lando’s level".

It’s been nice, honestly. I can walk around without the chaos of a race weekend looming over me, and sometimes, it feels like a different world entirely. Having drivers around gives me a sense of comfort, knowing I’m never too far from a friend, and I love that Lando is nearby for spontaneous hangouts. He’s been a solid support system, and having him in Monaco means I never really feel alone. It’s just nice, knowing that someone’s always nearby, especially after everything I’ve been through.

Franco and I were sitting in the lounge of my new Monaco apartment, just a couple of glasses of wine between us as we talked about the future. There was this quiet tension in the air—nothing too obvious, but we both knew what it felt like. He was leaning back on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, eyes focused on the half-empty glass in his hand, but I could tell he wasn’t really looking at it.

He sighed, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know what’s next for me, to be honest. Alpine offered me a reserve driver contract with them, but it's basically the same thing I have at Williams. The only real difference is that they are telling me they will take Jack out of his seat if he doesn’t do well. So I get paid more and have a more likely chance at racing again with them or I get loyalty points and probably never seat the steering wheel for another season with Williams.” His voice carried this layer of frustration I hadn’t heard from him before. He ran a hand through his hair, and I could see the weight of it all on him. He wasn’t the kind to complain, but I knew how badly he wanted that full-time seat. I could tell by how hard he fought to stay on the grid this season.

“Don’t let them make you feel like you have to settle,” I said softly, my words maybe a little more sincere than I meant them to be. He was one of the most talented drivers I knew, and he deserved to have a seat that would recognize that.

He let out a bitter laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, is it? The grid’s stacked, and Alpine knows I’ll have to take what I can get. But I don’t know… maybe it’s not where I want to be.”

There was a pause between us, and I watched him carefully, sensing that this was more than just a conversation about racing for him. It felt like the moment he was letting himself be real, vulnerable in a way he rarely showed.

“Franco,” I started, but the words faltered in my mouth. I didn’t know how to make him feel better, not when I knew what was next for me. He had been my rock in so many ways this season, and now it was my turn to be there for him. But it felt like something more was hanging in the air, something unsaid.

He met my eyes, and for a moment, there was this quiet, unspoken connection. “I don’t want to leave, you know?” he whispered, almost as if he were saying it to himself more than to me. “But I don’t know if I have another option.”

I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I just leaned over and put a hand on his arm, my fingers gently brushing his sleeve. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a small gesture, but it felt like the right thing to do. We stayed like that for a while, just sitting in silence, letting the quiet of the room fill in the gaps of our thoughts. When finally a thought came to me, “You know, I was in the same predicament before becoming Aston Martin’s Reserve driver?” 

He shook his head, not making eye contact yet. “Before Aston Martin I was driving only as a test driver for Redbull, no chance at racing only at being available when their own drivers reserve or not couldn’t be there. Then Aston Martin came to me with a contract, be their reserve driver. A team with a literal multi world champion driver and a driver who was the owner of the team’s son. So basically, my only chance at driving was someone getting sick or hurt. Or I could stay with my red bull contract and earn loyalty points but probably still never see the steering wheel during a real race.” I looked at him, seeing his expression change. “It was a tough decision but I listed out the pros and cons of each. In the end, Aston Martin gave me the most potential to grow into the F1 world.”

Then, he looked at me, and there was this flicker in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before. Something that felt real, honest. And I knew in that moment that we were both feeling it—that subtle pull between us. But neither of us said anything about it. Instead, we just let it linger, both of us too scared to do anything about it. “So what I think you need to do is think about what would help you grow or just what you want to do for your future? Is your future still F1 with Williams? Or do you want to explore other options to see what happens?”

His expression changed to one almost deep in thought. I pulled my hand back, giving him a small smile. “You’ll figure it out. You always do,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, even though my heart was beating a little faster than usual.

He smiled back, a little half-hearted, but genuine. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

“Same here,” I replied, my voice softer than I meant it to be. And for a moment, it felt like we were more than just teammates, more than just friends. But neither of us made a move. We just stayed there, pretending it was enough to be in each other’s company, not acknowledging the unspoken feelings simmering beneath the surface.

The moment passed, and we both knew it. But neither of us could shake the feeling that things had changed, even if just a little.

Post-season testing was in full swing, and I found myself behind the wheel of a Red Bull. Well, technically, it was a VCARB test, but they had thrown me and Yuki into the main team’s car—basically the 2024 title-winning machine before it would be slightly modified for our ‘junior’ team.

The car felt incredible. The downforce, the grip, the way it responded to even the slightest inputs—I had driven a strong car before, but this? This was on another level. It was a taste of what could be possible with the right setup, and I couldn’t help but grin every time I pushed it through a turn.

“Oi, don’t get too comfortable in that seat,” Yuki’s voice came through the radio as we wrapped up a practice run. “You still have to share it next year.”

I laughed, pulling into the pits and hopping out, only to be immediately greeted by VCARB’s social media team. I had already been warned that their content crew was… a little too good at capturing moments. The internet had already fallen in love with the way Yuki and I had been interacting over the past few weeks, posting clips of our playful bickering, him teaching me random Japanese phrases, or me teasing him about his food choices.

Case in point—before I even had my helmet off, Yuki was standing beside me, pointing at my water bottle with an accusing glare. “You forgot to drink again, we never saw the water button activate”

I groaned. “I was driving.”

He snatched the bottle out of the table and unscrewed the lid. “Drink. Now.”

“Bossy,” I muttered, taking a sip just to get him off my back.

Of course, VCARB’s media team caught the whole thing, and I had no doubt it would be on their Instagram story in minutes.

Later that evening, while cooling down after the day’s sessions, I found myself sketching out ideas for my new helmet. My current design had meant so much to me, but with a new chapter starting, I felt like I needed something fresh. Something that still honored my journey but signified a step forward.

I sat in the VCARB lounge, my sketchbook open in front of me, absentmindedly doodling designs. Maybe something sleeker, sharper—still keeping the essence of my previous helmets, but with a modern touch. I knew I wanted to incorporate the sea turtle shadow again, but this time, maybe in a way that intertwined with something symbolic for myself.

Yuki plopped down beside me, peering over my shoulder. “You’re making it blue, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just because I drive for VCARB now doesn’t mean my entire identity is changing.”

He grinned. “Fine, fine. But if you don’t put at least a little VCARB energy into it, I’ll be offended.”

I smirked. “I’ll think about it.”

Truthfully, this whole transition was already feeling better than I had expected. The team was welcoming, the car felt strong, and Yuki had quickly become an easy person to be around. For the first time in a while, I felt like I had something solid to look forward to with my future in this sport.

Now, I just had to survive another season of teasing from Yuki and VCARB’s relentless social media team.

Netflix: Drive to Survive – Post-Season Interview

The cameras were rolling, the dim lighting of the Drive to Survive interview room setting the scene. I sat in the chair, legs crossed, hands fidgeting slightly in my lap as the producers got everything settled. It felt weird, really. Looking back on the season as if it was just a chapter in a book rather than something I had physically, emotionally, and mentally endured.

The interviewer gave me a reassuring smile before jumping straight into it.

“This was your rookie season—or, well, partial rookie season. And it wasn’t exactly an easy one. How do you even begin to reflect on everything that happened?”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “Honestly? I don’t even know where to start. It was the highest of highs, the lowest of lows. I don’t think I ever imagined just how much this season would take out of me—physically, mentally. I came into it with so much to prove, knowing that I wasn’t even guaranteed a seat for next year. Then the Vegas crash happened, and suddenly everything shifted. I had to rebuild myself from the ground up—again.”

“You mentioned the Vegas crash—arguably one of the scariest moments of the season. How much did that affect you going forward?”

I swallowed, running my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “It’s weird because at the time, I was just focused on getting back in the car. I didn’t want to sit out, I didn’t want to give people a reason to doubt me. But looking back? I should’ve given myself more time. I was hiding injuries, pushing through pain I didn’t even fully understand. It wasn’t until after Abu Dhabi, when I finally went to a doctor, that I realized I had been racing with cracked ribs and a fractured forearm. That… that hit me hard. Not just because I knew I had been reckless with my own health, but because it made me realize just how much I feared losing my place here.”

“And now, even after proving yourself with a few Grand Prix wins, multiple podiums, and signing with Cadillac, you’re still facing uncertainty. How does that feel?”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah… it’s tough. I signed with Cadillac for 2026, which is exciting, but next year? I’m on loan with VCARB. It’s a temporary situation. There’s no telling how things will go, how I’ll fit into the team, how the car will perform. And then after that, I’m moving to a completely new team, a completely new project, which—don’t get me wrong��is an incredible opportunity, but also terrifying. I won’t have the stability that some of these other drivers have. I don’t get to settle in and build a team around me. I have to constantly prove myself, adapt, and just hope that everything works out.”

“Do you think about that often? The uncertainty of it all?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Every damn day. But that’s the sport, isn’t it? You never really know where you stand until half through the season. I just have to trust that I’m here for a reason.”

“You had a lot of support from fellow drivers this season, some of them clearly becoming very close to you. How much did that mean, especially in a year as chaotic as this one?”

I smiled at that, shaking my head slightly. “I don’t think I would’ve survived this season without them. Lando, Max, Lewis, Carlos, Franco—they all helped me in different ways. Max was like this overprotective older brother, always making sure I wasn’t pushing myself too hard, which—ironic, considering it’s Max Verstappen we’re talking about.” I laughed. “Lewis was there in a more subtle way, just letting me talk through things when I needed to. Carlos and Lando, well… they made sure I never took myself too seriously. And Franco… Franco understood in a way no one else could.”

“Speaking of Franco, He’s not on the grid next year, but you are. What is that like?”

I exhaled softly. “It is hard. Franco deserved a seat just as much as anyone else. He knows that. We have had a moment together where we both acknowledged that, no matter what happens, we’ll always support each other. But it’s bittersweet. I’m moving forward, but I don’t get to have him there with me next season. It’s just another reminder of how brutal this sport is.”

“Despite all of that, you still seem… excited.”

I let a small smirk tug at my lips. “I mean, yeah. It’s terrifying, but it’s also incredible. I get to drive a Formula 1 car for another season. I get to be part of the chaos. And, hey, if nothing else—at least Yuki and I are going to make VCARB’s social media team’s lives very entertaining next year.”

The interviewer chuckled. “That’s for sure. Final question—if you could say one thing to the version of yourself that started this season, what would it be?”

I sat with that for a moment, thinking. Then, with a slow, deep breath, I met the interviewer’s gaze.

“I’d tell her she should allow herself to lean on her friends more, to allow her grid family to help her when situations go downhill. But even when they get terrifyingly bad, she’s gonna get through it, after all, mama didn’t raise no bitch” I smiled mischeviously knowing that was the last question and while I had done well the entire time not swearing, the last word would have to be beeped for tv.

Pre-Season testing

My first partial season had long ended. The whirlwind of emotions, the battles on and off track, the celebrations, the heartbreaks—it had all been wrapped up into one chaotic, unforgettable year. And yet, as I stood there now, staring at the package in front of me, I realized it was only the beginning.

The VCARB garage was quieter than I had ever heard it. No roaring engines, no frantic radio chatter, just the distant hum of mechanics working in the background as the pre-season test wound down. Yuki had already disappeared somewhere—probably off to grab snacks or cause some minor chaos—and the crew had mostly filtered out, leaving just a handful of us behind.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the box, my name printed in bold letters on the lid. This was it. A new chapter. A new beginning. A new identity.

I glanced up at the lead designer, who gave me a small nod, encouraging me to lift the lid.

My heart pounded as I peeled back the protective wrap, the first glimpse of my brand-new helmet catching the dim garage light. I inhaled sharply, my fingers brushing over the surface, tracing the details I had agonized over for weeks. This wasn’t just a helmet. It was a statement. A promise.

A warning.

Something is coming.

I smiled to myself, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline, that unwavering hunger for what came next.

The season was over.

But the story was far from finished.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

[Taken from under the cut]

"The localization definitely did change some things about the portrayal of Angie’s religion, but I would hesitate to say that they changed the overall feel or messages of Chapter 3. The original was already pretty… well, I don’t know if “atheistic” is the best term for it, but the point of Chapter 3 in the original was definitely to have a kind of clash between western and eastern religion that reached a boiling point. I don’t think any of the general negativity associated with Angie and her cult, or Korekiyo and his séances, was impacted by NISA so much as it was already there in Kodaka’s writing.

As far as I could tell when playing the localization, in fact, Korekiyo’s translator didn’t change or alter much about his dialogue. Other than the “Kiyo” nickname, I agreed with most of the choices they made (translating “Kagoinu Village” and the “Kagonoko Ritual” as the “Caged Dog Village” and “Caged Child Ritual” respectively were really good choices or a localization, in fact, since they made them easier to understand). All of the reveals that happen in the post-trial (as in, those reveals, about his sister) were adapted pretty straightforwardly from the original. Nothing was cut or altered significantly; his motives really were that messed-up.

As for Angie, the term “brainwashing” actually is a direct translation and not something altered or swayed by the localization! The term 洗脳 (“sennou”) comes up as early as Chapter 2 in both the original and the localization. I believe the first instance of it is in an optional dialogue session with Himiko on the night of Saihara’s first training session, where she mentions that she should’ve “had [Angie] undo her brainwashing sooner.” The following morning, when discussing Himiko’s magical show, Angie is pretty quick to change the subject and avoids answering any questions when she’s asked by the rest of the group what she did to Himiko.

What’s more, there seems to be a very intentional correlation between Angie’s talent and Mitarai’s. While not entirely the same, the two bear definite similarities which come to light especially if you do Angie’s FTEs. In her third FTE with Saihara (her 5th overall if you did Kaede’s), she shows Saihara a picture she was painting, only for him to lose consciousness immediately upon looking at it. When he wakes up again and asks her if there’s anything intrinsically special about the painting itself, she says she’s not sure, and that she just “creates her art exactly the way god tells her to.”

It’s pretty heavily implied (more like confirmed, in her FTEs at least) that her artwork is how she gets people to listen to her and do what she asks, both on her home island and within the religious student council she sets up. There definitely seems to be a much larger degree of free will involved with her abilities than there was with Mitarai’s, the game is pretty emphatic about the fact that she does brainwash people to go along with her ideas. The effectiveness of her brainwashing is up for debate, though; Saihara remains pretty unaffected in his FTEs with her despite her best attempts to force him to marry her, Tenko was only pretending to join the student council in order to keep an eye on Himiko, and I highly doubt Tsumugi was ever actually brainwashed because of, well, reasons.

Overall, the general feeling with Angie (in the narrative at least) seems to be that she was someone whose intentions weren’t necessarily bad, but that she still did some pretty unsavory stuff nonetheless. It’s pretty clear that she does, in fact, want the killing game to end—she’s one of the most outspoken characters of the opinion that “greed” and “desire” only lead people to commit murder, and that they’d all be better off staying within the school and making it comfortable for themselves, rather than continuing to try and escape the school.

Unlike other characters who have brought up similar plans before, like Celes, I think Angie did genuinely believe what she was saying, too. There’s an optional dialogue moment in Chapter 4 if you click on the door to Angie’s lab while exploring around the school, where Saihara pretty much outright says that he couldn’t agree with her methods, but that he does realize that she was trying to stop the killing game in her own way, then follows up with a really nice comment about how he’ll never forget her. He has similar comments for most of his classmates following their deaths in each subsequent chapter, but I thought it was a really nice touch nonetheless.

As you point out though, if there is a fault in the localization to be found, it’s in changing Angie’s god altogether from a very general, unspecific god to “Atua.” Ever since I heard about that particular localization decisions, I couldn’t agree with it for a number of reasons, not least of all that it’s extremely disrespectful, as Atua is an actual, real deity in Polynesian mythology. Adapting a real-life deity and applying it to a character whose backstory, island, and god are all deliberately undefined (and fictional) is a very bad choice all around.

Angie already suffers from a lot of bad, racist writing tropes on Kodaka’s part in the original. It’s pretty clear that since she’s both dark-skinned and a “foreigner” (and we don’t know anything regarding whether her pre-game self is actually a foreigner or not) she was designed to be the “exotic, quirky island girl” whose religions and culture teeter between baffling and downright creepy.

The portrayal of her island’s religion and customs already isn’t positive in the original game; between “blood sacrifices,” purchasing organs and children off of the internet, and the hypersexualization of both Angie and her people (she tries to take off Saihara’s clothes in the same FTE I mentioned before, and there’s a lot of talk about the people on her island “comforting” each other sexually or “sharing the bride” at weddings), it feels like Kodaka was just one step short of calling them “un-civilized,” which is… eugh.

Taking all of that messy and unsavory writing and directly correlating it with actual Polynesian culture and mythology is such an incredibly disrespectful decision, moreso when I highly doubt that Angie’s translator for the localization is Polynesian themselves or did any actual research into the subject. There was no need to slap a name onto Angie’s god in the first place—her island and culture are still entirely undefined in-game, so why NISA felt that her religion needed to be equated with a real-life one is still beyond me.

Other than the general racism though, I don’t think a lot of the rest of Angie’s dialogue was changed. There was a brief, optional line in the bonus mode when she comes to invite you for a date where her translator decided to have her say “Alola!” (which, you know, a Pokemon region based on Hawaii isn’t even the same as the Polynesian islands, but okay), but otherwise her translation was pretty faithful to the original dialogue. I think her translator didn’t have too much of a problem capturing the feeling of her character; their main problem was simply the decision to make an unnecessary correlation between Angie’s fictional, made-up religion and all its negative aspects and with actual Polynesian religion and culture.

Overall, I think a lot more of the issue stems back to Kodaka’s own racism and flawed writing, though. I don’t think he was trying to leave a message of “religion = bad, always” in Chapter 3 so much as he was just… unaware of how it might come across to others. Religion in Japan is decidedly different from religion in the west, so it’s important to remember that Kodaka was writing from a Japanese perspective, rather than an all-around western atheistic perspective. He definitely wanted a sort of clash of ideas between Angie’s very foreign, western, cult-like religion, and Korekiyo’s research into eastern culture and spirituality, but the writing got… well, very messy along the way.

This is just my take on it all, anyway! The association with Angie’s religion and “brainwashing” was definitely there in the original game, even very early on, but I do think the localization would’ve improved overall if it hadn’t bothered trying to put a real name to any of it. Thank you for asking this question by the way—it’s always good to clear this kind of stuff up, especially since all of the “Atua” changes must make it really difficult for anyone playing the localization to know how much else was or wasn’t changed in Angie’s dialogue. I hope I could clear a few things up!"

here's a question ive had since the localization came out; did the localization do anything to enforce more of an athiestic bent and put angie and shinguji in a more negative light wrt religion and spirituality (particularly angie)? or has that always been there? the whole "brainwashing" angle felt p harsh, not to mention saying angie's god outright is Atua instead of the general "my god" that the translations seemed to have. plus akamatsu seemed very internally harsh about her god in their FTEs

The localization definitely did change some things about theportrayal of Angie’s religion, but I would hesitate to say that they changedthe overall feel or messages of Chapter 3. The original was already pretty…well, I don’t know if “atheistic” is the best term for it, but the point ofChapter 3 in the original was definitely to have a kind of clash betweenwestern and eastern religion that reached a boiling point. I don’t think any ofthe general negativity associated with Angie and her cult, or Korekiyo and his séances,was impacted by NISA so much as it was already there in Kodaka’s writing.

Keep reading

[2am-writing]

You're a Coward Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

Category: Angst to fluff

Summary: Steve has been avoiding y/n for the last month. It’s not until you’re shit faced at a party for him to confess what’s really going on.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, taking shots, smoking, smoking weed while driving (I do not condone this behavior this is just here for the sake of the story and vibes LOL), throwing up, fighting, kissing

WC: 2.5

A/n: Second “fanfic” “imagine” esc post!! I really hope you like it. This was fun to write and please don’t judge my shitty writing lollll I’m still working on it and lots of room for improvement (: 

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“I still think he’s into you” Nancy laughed at y/n as she told Nancy the infamous story of how one day her and Steve were the bestest of friends, inseparable really. How they did everything together- movie nights, parties, dinners, even sleepovers. Steve and y/n became close very quickly ever since y/n moved to Hawkin’s about a year ago. But one day later everything had seemed to banish out of nowhere. 

It crept up slowly, and though y/n was trying not to read too much into it at first, she soon realized she should’ve because when she finally came to terms with what Steve was doing it was too late, and he was gone- Not literally gone as in disappeared but, gone from her life. 

It first started with Steve not returning your calls right away, letting them go unanswered for hours, until those hours turned to days. He stopped walking you to class and meeting up before and after school. He avoided you at lunch, and started making excuses to get out of hanging out. All which ultimately led to him completely dodging your presence.

Finally when it became too much for y/n she pressed him in the hallway, on the verge of breaking down, demanding to know what she did that made Steve want nothing to do with her anymore. Steve’s heart was shattered at the thought that he let y/n think that this was her fault. But overall, he thought losing her like this was a better alternative than getting rejected and ruining the friendship that way. So when she pressed him that day in the school hallway, it took everything in him to say nothing and just walk away.  

Over the course of that month Robin countlessly called Steve an idiot, she suspected the feelings he had for y/n but nothing was confirmed. Steve was too stubborn to admit to anything. And Robin too- like Nancy, tried telling y/n

‘I think he’s just an idiot who’s into you.’ But without confirmation, y/n just accepted that Steve had a newfound hatred for her and the only thing could do was bury her feelings for him and forget it. 

As for y/n, she spent a lot of her free time with Robin when she wasn’t with or working with Steve, and Eddie too- they were just friends of course but they did get significantly closer ever since Steve walked out of y/n’s life. 

10pm hit as Nancy, Jonathan, and y/n stood outside the Wheeler’s house waiting for Eddie to pick them up for a party. You weren’t really sure whose party it was, but Eddie knew the guy which automatically meant you and your friends were invited. 

You were excited, and felt like this would be a good opportunity to finally let loose and have fun after how stressful this month has been for you. You wore a tight black mini skirt, a baby tee that rose just above your belly button, and knee high boots. You wanted to feel good about yourself tonight, forget about Steve and everything he put you through. You were never much of a partier and you definitely preferred smoking and relaxing than drinking and partying, but you knew a switch up would be good for you.

When Eddie finally pulled up you hopped in the passenger seat, as Johnathan and Nancy sat in the back.

“Hey- you clean up nice” Eddie laughed at y/n while passing her the joint he just lit. Y/n accepted the joint gracefully and took a hit of it, before Eddie started driving off to the party,

“Not so bad yourself Munson,” She coughed out before taking another hit, 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie stammered, “One, save some for me-” He took the joint back smoking it, “Two, slow your roll and wait till we step foot in the party before you completely lose yourself.” 

The drive over to the party was no more than 20 minutes. On arrival, Jonathan and Nancy went their separate ways as they are more of the inverted partier type. As for you and Eddie, he took you straight to the kitchen to get started on drinks, 

“Okay doll, what’re you drinking tonight?” 

“Tequila,” You answered without hesitation, Eddie was taken off guard by my answer. He knew that wasn't my typical drink of choice. His eyes widened and eyebrows raised,

“Well shit y/l/n, why do I have a feeling I’m gonna be carrying you out of this place tonight,” He laughed pouring your guys’ first shot of the night. 

You cheered your shot before taking it with ease, then taking a hit of a joint you just lit. Eddie’s eyes looked at you in disbelief as you held the joint in your mouth inhaling while pouring another shot before- he chimed in,

“I don’t know if I should be proud or concerned for you,” 

You shook your head laughing, "I just need to say fuck it and let loose Eddie, I’ve been needing this for a while, okay."

Eddie is aware of the situation that went down with Steve, he’s the one who has been at your side and at your every call, always there to comfort you. He knew how much Steve meant to you, though he never understood why you liked him so much, but you just claimed he never got to know Steve like you did.

“Doll, I know you need this, just be careful please I can’t babysit all night-” Eddie got cut off by his friends welcoming him and dragging him out to the back patio.

All honesty you were fine being left alone, tequila made you wanna dance and that’s exactly what you went to do.. After you took another shot of course. 

You slammed your shot glass on the counter after taking it, then filling up your red solo cup with a mixed drink and hit the dance floor. 

You were doing exactly what you had planned on doing, letting loose and having fun. A benefit to going to a party where you don’t even know who’s hosting it is you don't know a lot of the people here- making dancing with random guys a lot easier.

Whilst in the middle of quite literally throwing it back on some guy whose name you didn't even know, your body suddenly froze up, you felt as if your lungs had started constricting, and anger rose inside of you noticed Steve fucking Harrington walking in the door with Robin- 

‘I should’ve known, a friend of Eddie’s is more than likely a friend of Robin’s of course they’re fucking here.’

You sighed, taking a deep breath in, 

‘Tonight is my night of fun and letting lose, fuck Steve Harrington,’ 

You took another swig of your drink before continuing dancing, you were definitely feeling the alcohol hitting you now. 

Steve spotted you the moment he walked into the house. Jealously rose inside of him as he saw you dancing with some guy. But he still couldn't help but miss you and his heart felt like it was aching. That feeling followed up with the thought of rejection, and he couldn’t help but replay the moment in the hallway you two had shared when you were pressing him, he had never seen you so angry.

He quickly snapped back to reality, he could automatically tell you were drunk, he smiled to himself admiring how confident you looked dancing, drink in your hand, you looked as if you didn’t have a care in the world. He missed your presence. 

A few minutes later Steve found himself in the kitchen grabbing a beer. After taking a prolong drink he heard someone stumbling into the wall over towards the bathroom. 

With curiosity getting the best of him he peered around the corner, and there you were. Drunkenly stumbling, joint in your mouth, your hand pasted to the wall using it to guide you to the bathroom door.

When you reached the bathroom you had slammed the door behind you before placing your joint on the sink carefully, then falling to your knees in front of the toilet waiting for the contents in your stomach to rise up. 

Steve slowly approached the door listening to what you could be doing, he more just wanted to know that you were okay in there. The second he heard you start to vomit, worry washed over him. He lost control over himself and didn’t think twice before he opened the bathroom door. His eyebrows pinched together, sympathy in his eyes at the look of you hanging over the toilet sick. 

Your head had snapped over to the door upon it opening, your face had a look of anger then quickly dropping as you made eye contact realizing it was Steve, 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” Your words slurred,

“I know- I know you hate me,” Steve calmly said while closing the door behind him then kneeling down next to you pulling your hair out of you face and holding it back, “Just- just let me help you please,” 

Before you could respond you resumed throwing up and coughing in the toilet violently. Steve continued to hold your hair back while with the other hand he was rubbing small circles in your back calmly saying, “It’s okay, you’re okay- just breath,” 

Truth to be told, his presence felt very comforting, and as much as you wanted to kick him out of the bathroom, scream at him, and analyze this odd situation- You were far too crossed from the weed and alcohol to even think.  

“Why- are you- here Harrington,” You began choking on your words before tears started to form in your eyes, “You avoid me- for- a whole fucking- month, you’re just gone- and now you want to just show up again,” 

“I know- I know, I-”

Before Steve could finish his sentence you started vomiting again cutting off his sentence, his heart ached seeing you like this,

“Hey hun,” His tone gentle, “Can I please take you home, you can’t stay here like this,” 

As much as you hate to give in so easily you knew you were only gonna feel worse. Plus you had a feeling Eddie left the party already with a girl that was hitting on him on the back patio so this may be the best option for you,

“Okay,” You croaked out grabbing Steve’s shoulder to boost you up. Steve stood up with you wrapping his arm around you to help keep your balance,

“Okay- let’s go” 

He guided you outside the house, walking you to his car. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you inside. The world was spinning, your mind was racing yet it was also blank, you rested your head on the window feeling drowsy,

“Your house or mine hun,” 

“Steve-” you slurred, “I can’t go home like this,” 

"Okay," Steve nodded, driving off to his house. 

You blacked out during the car ride, you felt as if you were jumping in and out of reality, nothing felt real. One moment you were sitting in the passenger seat of Steve Harrington’s car, the next minute you were laying on his couch with a slightly better grasp of reality.

You slowly sat up rubbing your eyes not caring if you smeared your mascara. You noticed Steve in the kitchen holding a cup of water as he started walking towards you, 

“Here,” He said quietly, “Uh- We just got here- like 10 minutes ago- here drink this,” He hands you the cup and you drink the water reluctantly glaring at him, 

“How can you just act like nothing happened Steve? You were my best friend one day, and a shitty- selfish person the next.”

Steve sighs, embarrassed, and unable to look you in the eyes. He knows you’re right, he can’t just have you stay the night without explaining why he did what he did. He knew he had to tell you the truth, and he had to tell you tonight. 

“Do you remember the time- uh- we stayed up all night just talking in my car,” Steve’s demeanor was soft, he was staring at the ground breathing slowly,

“Yeah,” 

“I think about that night almost everyday you know,” He pauses taking another deep breath, “We talked all night- about everything- and you feel asleep on my shoulder at sunrise-” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at Steve, “Yes Steve I get it. I was stupid enough to open up to you, about everything, my whole life. What? Just for you to ditch me months later and forget about everything?” Tears started forming in your eyes, you started to fill of rage,

“No, no- Just- please let me finish,” I stayed silent, 

“Y/n I love you-” 

“You’re a coward Steve Harrington,” You shouted at him, “You don’t abandon someone you love,” 

Steve’s head snapped up at you making eye contact, you could tell something changed in him, 

“Dammit y/n I fell in love with you!” He shouted. He maintained eye contact, your eyes widened, eyebrows raised, your breathing fasten, yet you remained silent,

“I’m sorry I abandoned our friendship y/n- I’m sorry I left you hanging. I was scared of your rejection, I didn’t wanna lose our friendship that way y/n. I know it doesn’t make sense, but at the time- you know- it did. I know I’m a coward from running away from those feelings, but I just knew you could never feel the same,” Steve stopped talking and started catching his breath,

“Steve, you're an idiot,” You gave him a saddened pitiful smile, “How could I not like you back? Of course I had feelings for you,” Steve’s expression softened as those words left your mouth,

“Really?” In the moment nothing but guilt washed over Steve, he was happy too- But more so he felt guilty, like a real jerk for wasting all that time away from you. But ultimately, all the worry he had of getting rejected from you had vanished. 

Steve inched closer to you, closing the gap that laid between you guys. He held eye contact with you momentarily, breaking it to stare at your lips. His hand cupped your cheek as he closed his eyes slowly pulling you into him. You leaned into his kiss, your hands hanging around his neck. 

You couldn’t believe this was finally happening, Steve felt like he was dreaming.

When your lips collided it felt as if the whole world around you disappeared. Your lips fit perfectly together moving in sync, his lips were soft and gentle with yours. Everything felt perfect. 

Steve paused pulling back, you were both smiling like idiots at each other catching your breath before Steve spoke up,

“I missed you so much- I’ve been wanting to do that for so long you have no idea,”

“No, you have no idea Harrington,” You laughed, “Don’t ever do any of that dumb shit again,”

Steve laughed shaking his head before pressing his forehead against yours, 

“Trust me, I’m never letting you go again honey.” 

[saltedbiscuiit]

Orange Soda

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Caitlyn literally went to war for the cooch. Caitlyn LOST AN EYE FOR THE COOCH. She set the bar imo.

[malenjoyer]

Sorry I’m not replying to messages. I do see them. I’m answering some asks and posting a bit of random thought stuff on twitter but I’m feeling kind of like I’m retreating to my old hermit state of internet usage.

These past few weeks I haven’t had energy to do a lot of stuff. It currently takes a lot out of me to reply individually because I’m trying to secure a job for myself again. So a lot of my energy is put there and worrying about my finances and future…

Thank you for the support as always and I’ll try to respond as soon as I feel I can give a decent response to DMs.

As for art stuff, I thought about starting to post again but due to the recent AI stuff that was released about sketches being converted to lineart easily, I got a bit paranoid again so it might take a while. I’m reading comics between breaks and rediscovering my love for stories so that’s good

[cowchickenbeefpork]

every day without fail I pace and talk to myself like I’m fucking gollum thinking about how much the Isabella arc could’ve been a amazing arc where Edward goes through a scenario deeply similar to what he did to Kristen if given the right buildup (aka making him slowly get to the mental state where he would date a girl who looks exactly like his first girlfriend no questions asked)

it’s not just the fact Oswald killed Edward’s lover to get to him just what Ed did to Kristen. It’s also the power dymantic, how this was the first person they truly felt like cared for them deeply, the exception. It’s about how they both have power above that emotional investment (Edward being psychically stronger than Kristen, Oswald having financial power over Edward since he is his boss and Edward also lives under him). It is about how they both decided to keep a part of them after the fallout whether it be Edward with Kristen’s glasses or Oswald with Edward’s frozen body. A perverse trophy. IT IS ABOUT HOW BOTH FALLOUTS WERE TAKEN AS A LESSON ABOUT LOVE TO JUSTIFY WHAT THEY DID.

I’m so mad that they fumbled this arc on both sides. I am in deep unspeakable agony as I type this. Honestly their first mistake was writing Isabella to be someone who matched Edward’s freak since they quite literally had that with Oswald. But whatever I don’t care for this mid show

[rhytmrocket]

hey all

i did another one

there’s some fast transitions, so caution if you’re really sensitive to flashing lights!!

i also sorta figured out how to intro an edit yay!

i have not seen any disco kid edits in my short time of being here which is an absolute travesty, so i decided to be the change i want to see in the world

i spent like 3 hours and 70% of my phone battery on this and im pretty proud of how it came out, so i really hope you all like it enough to rb it

it’s fine if not though, i get it

[janasdiary]

so i recently moved out of my b6 papertess designs planner because it was too big and instead i started using an a6 leuchtturm1917.

tell me why i just ordered a 2024 spring start cousin..??

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[deus-ex-mona]

up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_

[hsslilly-blog]

in my beautiful version i think hunt offered claire the lead role in the last duchess in 2016. i love nepotism and cronyism <- that’s their entire relationship if you think about it. but she refused it because: 1. she’s very proud and 2. she actually wanted to build her career first. i think her acting career is literally the only thing in her life that she would not take the easy road. it’s something too dear to her. and well it’s basically all she has. i think claire would hate to have her career defined as a director’s lead actress from that point on instead of a lead actress in a movie period. maybe when she’s more established he can put her in whatever film he wants to. and he will. but anyway she only accepts the role after she gets her first oscar nom in 2018. notice how his loser ass waited three years (release date in 2019)

related to this as well, i think claire would hate to be known as hunt’s something in general. that’s one of the issues she had with marrying him. i mean barely anyone knows they’re together anyway before they get engaged. i do think this is something that kinda stems from the genesis of their relationship, but it’s also a claire thing. like i said, she’s very proud. she gets his surname but you will Never see her referring to herself as Claire H*nt or using his surname in any shape or form. i won’t either. it feels super weird who even is this person. not my beautiful princess Claire Swanson

[rainbowpufflez]

Fine, I’ll admit that I like Lysandre 😔

[hana-bobo-finch]

JUST FINISHED MY STUPID LITTLE PDBC COMIC 🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥 it’ll be scheduled to post on the 13th because the comic is about the briar zome and if you remember The Lore™️, the briar zome can only be accessed on Friday the 13ths so I figured it’d be fitting to post it then been if it means delaying it a bit (wasn’t actually planned that way, it just so happened that the week I finished it was the same week as a Friday the 13th, lucky coincidence)