#and the worst part is that it's literally my fault i could have just done the fucking work and i didn't

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

the worst part of break is the last day when you're just drowning in stress thinking about going back. i feel literally physically nauseous

[ourceliumnetwork]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒��┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : Thank you guys for dropping messages 🧡 I really really appreciate them and I love interacting w/ u guys 🥺. If you have questions or anything u want to say to me~ go ahead and don’t be shy.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Cursing , Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 11 | Next >

skysportsf1

liked by user1 and others

skysportsf1 P3 for Oscar! Catch up with the interview with our Fav Aussie in Papaya

user1 This interview was filled with so much tension (?) I can’t explain it.

user2 Osc looks like his both happy and at the same time angry??

user3 YES EXACTLY. Boy was seething and so uncomfortable when he was asked about Lando and Mclaren… then he was all smiles for the last question??

user4 “i’m paid to race, so I’ll race” OK SIR 🥶

user5 Oscar said fuck Lando’s race, I’m driving for myself

user6 Kimi Raikkonen is back y’all… hello Ice man

user7 Oscar has the WDC mentality 🔥

user8 A lot will happen?? what will happen huh Oscar Jack Piastri?? tell us.

user9 He is planning smth i swear.

user10 Ok Osc is pissed about Mclaren. That joke about losing his job was so dry, boi was angry fr.

user11 watch out for lap 1 turn 1 tomorrow. Oscar is taking the gap!!

f1wags.

liked by user1 and user2

f1wags Y/N was spotted leaving the Hilton (McLaren’s hotel).

user1 Noooooooooo Y/N pls dont leave! like where are you even going 😭

user2 First Y/N wasnt present in Quali and now she’s leaving the hotel??? what happened to her and Oscar??

user1 pls dont let them end before they even started

user2 I just got to know about them and I refuse to let it go!

user3 Did she leave with her luggage? maybe she went out for smth??

user4 She was spotted carrying her suitcase😭

user5 Lando Norris I swear to everything you love I’ll hunt you down

user6 Seriously, he couldn’t just let Y/N be happy huh? Bro had to cheat and make more problems 🤡

user7 Ik!! Dude stay on your lane. You end ella deserve each other so much

user8 who’s ella?

user9 Oh shes just Y/N’s ex friend that Lando cheated with 🤢. Lando and her really do complement each other so well 🤡

user10 WHY IS THERE A RUMOR THAT Y/N AND OSCAR ARE OVER?!!

user11 I mean if its true and they’re done… they couldnt even last 1 race week together. What kind of relationship is that 🙂

user12 @user11 a normal one?? imagine having so much stress and an ex trying to sabotage your love life.

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

Notification : you received a message from Osc🧡

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Pick Up

“I’m literally on the way, Osc. stop worrying!”

“I know, I know! I just miss you so much my most beautiful and lovely girlfriend”

“And whose fault was that hmm?”

“Mine…”

“Uhuh, I’ll be over there in a few minutes be patient dum-dum”

“Did John give you the keys to my room?”

“He did. I still can’t believe you got a room next to Charles’s without the rest of McLaren knowing that one of their drivers is not in their hotel”

“Well that one of the pros of them only caring about Lando’s ass”

“Thank you McLaren favoritism. I still can’t fucking believe that they’re ordering you around for personal matters”

“Yeah, fucking unbelievable. I thought Alpine was the worst. What employer has the right to dictate their driver’s personal decisions? they’re fucking crazy.”

“But are you sure you want to disobey orders? We could always keep us lowkey…”

“Screw lowkey and screw team orders! I’m not keeping us a secret!”

“As long as you want it Osc, I’m ok with anything as long as i’m with you”

“I’m perfectly sure, Dear”

“Ok. Oh! I’m near the hotel.”

“I’ll fetch you in the lobby alright?”

“mhm. Bye ~ love you!”

“love you more”

call ended

Y/N. close friends 3m

story replies

oscarpiastri am i forgiven then my luv? 🥺

Y/N. Hell nah, im still making you work for it ��

oscarpiastri We have our whole lives, take your time~ im not leaving baby. Till death do us part girl.

Y/N. Wtf, i’m your girlfriend for hours and ur thinking about marriage???

oscarpiastri Yes. ur meeting my parents next week 🥰😘

Y/N. I have no words Oscar Jack Piastri

oscarpiastri an I do would be great

Y/N. I cant with you HAHAHAHAHA i love you so much. thank you for not giving up on us

oscarpiastri I love you so much more and I’m not making the mistake of letting you go.

danielricciardo Girl you were just crying yesterday I-

Y/N. ok now i’m crying for a different reason

danielricciardo I dont want to hear your sex life with Osc. pls dont 😷

Y/N. DANNY WTF NOT THAT 😩. I meant I’m crying tears of joy… I’m not going to talk about my sex life with u tf

danielricciardo that’s what i meant stupid! ur like a sister to me. Get u and oscs germs away from me🤢

Y/N. Stfu dweeb 🤓.

danielricciardo thank fuck that u two straightened things out . You two owe me big time for being ur messenger 😤

Y/N. yeah yeah~ thanks danny 😘🧡

danielricciardo I’m not kidding, you OWE me 🤡

y/bf DAMN OK. I expected an update but not this . Holy damn Y/N! so you and osc are good then?

Y/N. We areeeeee… and its official~ 🙈

y/bf Oh thank goodness!! Im so glad y/nieee 😭. I was about to book a flight too, you bitch!

Y/N. Really?? ughh you really do love me.

Y/bf are you happy?

Y/N. Yes. I really am .. and I think Osc and I need a to label our relationship. sooo yeahh~ let more drama pour, at least now we know where we stand.

f1wags.

liked by user1 and others

f1wags. Y/N is in the paddock for the race 🧡

user1 Y/N FINALLY!! girl ur lack of attendance made us worry!! pls tell us u and osc are ok???

user2 The 2 days you’ve been gone in the paddock made everyone crazy! Theories of breakups and come backs are spread 😭

user3 Y/N strutting back in the paddock like nothing happened ~ Ok slay. I need that type of confidence

user4 Fr, Y/N waltzing in like she didn’t just drop a literal diss track on Lando

user5 As she should 💅

user6 THAT FIT THO 🥵🔥

user7 she ain’t dressing Lowkey Y’all . She’s here and she’s ready to serve!

user8 when Oscar said things are happening? things are HAPPENING and it starts with Y/N L/N.

user9 Ok Y/N! show them what’s up.

user10 McLaren can’t stop this girl.

Y/N. 45m

story replies

oscarpiastri Thank you Baby 🧡

Y/N. That overtake in turn 1 was so good Osc!! I got goosebumps

oscarpiastri ur only saying that cuz I got Lando down into P4 with my move

Y/N. NO you just were amazing! ngl i did enjoy throwing Lando out 👹

oscarpiastri I did promise a show 😉 and speaking of shows~ I need to go to our de breifing and watch them clown around.

Y/N. Okay! I’ll be with Alex at Ferrari. Call me when you need meeee. Bye luv.

* at McLaren motorhome, driver debriefing room.

-what the fuck was that at turn 1 Oscar?!-

-That’s what you call racing, I saw a gap and I took it-

-You cost me my race. That podium should be mine-

-Not my fault you bottled your first lap, now is it?-

-OK STOP. Oscar you should think about the team! Lando was on pole!-

-Funny how that works. You hired me to drive and I did. I got you your podium and points for your constructors-

-Follow team orders! that’s your fucking job-

-What you expect me to sit still and take it?-

-Yes, Oscar. That’s how this team works-

- Tsk and that goes for personal matters too?-

-Ah, so that’s what it is? This is about Y/N. Are you worried that she’ll see you as the loser you are?-

-Not at all, specially when I don’t get babied by the team. Tell me how does it feel like kissing up the boss’ ass? -

- FUCK YOU! -

-THAT’S ENOUGH. Oscar you should know when to stop! You’re still new here… learn your place and follow orders exactly as stated — and that goes with Y/N L/N keep your distance or face the consequences -

- Watch me -

*Incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Osc! are you done?”

“Dear, do you trust me?”

“What?…. about what?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes. I do”

“Ok. Baby we’re going public”

Extra A/N: hihihi did I scare you with the false breakup?? 🤭

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 19

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

This has literally all the worst things the internet has to offer: Ableism, Sexisms, Toxic Media, horrible journalism, death threats...I am pretty sure I am missing some of it.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Call Transcript - Rachel Anderson & Richard Treshton

Richard Treshton: [Answers the call, voice tense] Rachel.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, so you do pick up the phone. I assume you already know why I’m calling.

Richard Treshton: [Dry] No, but I imagine I’m about to find out.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] Don’t play dumb. I’ve had reporters on my doorstep all morning, asking about Lizzie. They were digging into my personal life. I have nothing to do with this. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Why am I being dragged into this mess?

Richard Treshton: Because some lowlife on the internet thought digging into Lizzie’s past would make good entertainment.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] I don’t see why they’re so obsessed. She writes fairy porn for a living!

Richard Treshton: Excuse me?

Rachel Anderson: Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what’s in those books. I skimmed one after all the press about her and that driver started up. It’s embarrassing, Richard. She’s a grown woman writing drivel about handmaidens and fae warriors.

Richard Treshton: [Coldly] Careful.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, please. Let’s not pretend her little fairy tale nonsense is high literature. The only reason she’s even relevant right now is because she latched onto that racing driver—

Richard Treshton: You don’t get to talk about her like that. You don’t get to belittle her, not when you gave up any right to an opinion the day you walked out on her.

Rachel Anderson: [Defensive] I left because I had to, Richard. You know that.

Richard Treshton: [Furious] No, you left because you couldn’t deal with having a sick child. You made a choice. Lizzie was six years old, Rachel. Six. And you left her wondering why her own mother didn’t love her enough to stay.

Rachel Anderson: [Quiet] That’s not fair.

Richard Treshton: No, what’s not fair is that she had to grow up without a mother. What’s not fair is that she learned, at six years old, that the person who was supposed to love her unconditionally decided she wasn’t worth the effort.

Rachel Anderson: [Uncomfortable] Richard—

Richard Treshton: [Cold] You don’t get to rewrite history just because the press showed up at your door.

Rachel Anderson: [Tightly] I didn’t call to argue with you. I called to say that I don’t want any part of this circus. I don’t want my name attached to Elizabeth’s mess—

Richard Treshton: [Dangerous calm] Lizzie isn’t a mess.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] Oh, come on—

Richard Treshton: She is a best-selling author. She is a strong, brilliant, and kind person who has done more with her life than you could ever hope to understand. She is a woman who wakes up every day and keeps going, even when the world makes it harder for her.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, go to hell. 

Richard Treshton: You first. And while you are at it: Keep my daughter’s name out of your damn mouth, Rachel. 

***

Lizzie hadn't let go of Mara since it had happened.

Not on the drive home...not when she had crawled into her bed, and pulled the blanket over her head.

She had curled up on her bed, fingers buried in the soft fur of her Labrador, face pressed against Mara’s side like she could disappear into the warmth. The weight of the world sat heavy on her chest, pressing her down, making it hard to move, hard to think, hard to breathe.

Lando sat beside her, close but not pushing. He hadn’t left her side, not once. His hand rested on her knee, grounding. A silent reminder that he was here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

But now, morning had come. And he had to go. McLaren wanted him in for a meeting.

Lizzie’s stomach twisted as she listened to him get dressed, the sounds of fabric rustling, the quiet zip of his hoodie. Her eyes were still closed, her face half-buried in the pillow. She could feel Mara pressed against her side, the dog’s nose nuzzling into her hip.

The door was ajar, Lando’s shadow passing in front of the light spilling in from the hallway.

Lizzie still hadn’t looked at her phone. She didn’t want to know what else was being said. Didn’t want to see her name trending. Didn’t want to read a single thing about her mother being dragged into the mess, about her private life being turned into entertainment.

Lando hesitated before speaking.

“Do you regret it?” His voice was careful, quiet.

Lizzie went very still.

For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing. The hum of the AC, the tick of the clock on the wall.

Do you regret it?

She knew exactly what he was asking without saying. Not about her mother, not about the stupid online bullshit. Lando was asking about them.

Lizzie’s fingers twitched in Mara’s fur.

She exhaled, long and slow. “I don’t regret you.”

Lando let out a breath of his own, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. He was watching her; she could feel his gaze, warm and steady on her.

“Not even once?” he said, voice quiet enough that she almost thought she’d misheard him.

Her heart clenched.

She forced herself to sit up, pushing herself up on her elbows. "No. Not once," she told him, her voice raw. "I don't regret you. I...don't even regret going public," she admitted weakly. "I just wish it..."

Lando’s gaze softened. He walked over to her, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand landed on her hip, thumb stroking the bare skin as he leaned in. “You wish it what?”

Her throat felt tight.

She exhaled, then said, “I wish it didn’t make the world hate me."

Lando’s thumb stilled.

Then he was pulling her forward, his arms sliding around her. He pulled her into his lap, her legs on either side of his hips. Lizzie went willingly, burying her face in his chest, her fingers curling in the material of his hoodie.

He tucked her head under his chin, letting her hide against him. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“They don’t get to hate you,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Lando...”

He tightened his arms around her. “No, listen,” he said, his breath warm against her temple. “The whole goddamn world could hate you, and I would still love you. They wouldn’t change a damn thing."

She closed her eyes, her eyes stinging. She wanted nothing more than to simply hide away with him.

She took a shuddering breath, then another.

“ I can’t do social media right now.” Her voice was quiet, rough at the edges. “I just—can’t.”

Lando nodded instantly. “Then don’t. You don’t have to.”

Her throat bobbed. “People are everywhere, saying—” She stopped, shaking her head, burying her face against the crook of his neck.

Lando’s hand came up to cradle her head, the fingers of his other hand tracing gentle circles on her back. “I know. I know what they’re saying.” His jaw clenched. She could feel it against her forehead.

She could also feel the tension coursing through his body, how hard he was fighting to restrain himself, to keep his response in check.

“You don’t have to see it. You don’t have to read it," he said softly.

Lizzie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “It doesn’t matter if I read it. It’s there. It exists. They think they know me, think they get to have opinions about me, and I—I just want to exist, Lando."

“You do get to exist,” he said, his tone a mix of fierce and urgent, like he needed her to understand this. “Those idiots on Twitter—they don’t get to take this from us. And they don’t get a say in how we live our lives.”

He took her chin in his hand, gently lifting her face to look at him. “They don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

Lizzie inhaled sharply, searching his gaze.

His eyes were dark, focused on hers. But there was a determined set to his jaw, and a fire in his eyes that she knew meant he was ready to take on the whole world, if he had to.

And in that moment, all she felt was the quiet, overwhelming certainty that he’d win, because he’d fight for this. For them.

 “Your dad’s coming over,” he murmured. “I have to go to McLaren, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Lizzie’s grip tightened. “Okay.”

Lando hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

Lizzie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you too.”

Lando’s expression softened. He took her face in his hands, tilting her head up, and kissed her.

His lips were warm, firm against hers, his fingers curling possessively against her skin. It was an urgent kiss, fierce and a little desperate, as though trying to say all the things they couldn’t put into words.

He broke the kiss far too soon, resting his forehead against hers. “You text me if you need me, okay? I’m coming right back.”

Lizzie nodded. “Okay.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, like he was trying to commit all of her face to memory. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away, sliding her off his lap so he could stand.

He paused, one hand on the door. “Liz.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

Then he smiled, that same crooked, boyish grin that had made her heart skip a beat from the moment she first saw him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, with a conviction that made her believe him.

Lizzie tried to return the smile. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Her father came over...The The house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the wind outside and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Lizzie sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea, watching as her father moved around the small space, rinsing out the kettle and tidying up even though it didn’t need tidying. She knew what that meant—he was working through something in his head, giving himself time before he spoke.

Her father was a tall man, with dark eyes that had always seen everything. He finally sat down across from her, his hands wrapping around the mug of tea. He blew softly over the surface before taking a sip. Then he exhaled, his gaze meeting hers as he carefully set the mug back down.

Mara was curled up at Lizzie’s feet, resting her head against her lap. The Labrador always seemed to know when she needed grounding, her presence solid and unwavering. Lizzie absentmindedly ran her fingers through Mara’s soft fur, trying to do the same for herself.

Her father cleared his throat. “I should've warned you…”

Lizzie frowned. “You knew?”

“I knew about them.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know people were going to drag it into the spotlight like this, but… yeah, I knew.”

Lizzie took a slow breath, willing her voice to stay even. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Her father rubbed the back of his neck. “Because it wasn’t going to change anything.”

Lizzie let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well. I know now.”

Her father exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against the table. “She called me, you know.”

Lizzie stiffened. “What?”

“This morning.” He shook his head. “She’s furious. Says she has reporters showing up at her house, asking her kids about you.”

Lizzie’s stomach turned. “I didn’t want that,” she murmured.

“I know,” her dad said. “But she’s acting like it’s your fault. Like you somehow brought this on her.”

Lizzie stared silently into her tea. She didn’t want to feel guilt over this. She didn’t want to feel the weight of it on her shoulders, the churning sensation in her stomach.

Lizzie swallowed hard, gripping her mug a little tighter.

Her life.

Her kids.

Her mother had built a family—one that didn’t include her. One that had never even considered including her.

“She really just… replaced us,” Lizzie murmured. “Didn’t she?”

Her father’s expression softened. “Lizzie…”

She shook her head, refusing the sympathy she saw in his eyes. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want pity. She just wanted—she wanted this to be over.

Her voice was almost a whisper when she said, “Do you ever regret it?”

Her dad’s brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Sticking with me,” she said quietly. She forced herself to look up, to meet his gaze. “When she left. When I got sick. When things got hard. Do you ever wish you’d done what she did? Started over? With a new wife? A normal kid?"

There was a long moment of silence, her words echoing in the air.

Then her father reached across the table, and took her hand, fingers curling gently around hers.

“Elizabeth.” His voice was steady, firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed, nodding.

“I have never—never—regretted staying.” He squeezed her hands. “Not once. Not for a single second.”

Lizzie felt something crack in her chest.

“I would do it all over again,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Every long night, every hospital visit, every fear and frustration—if it meant having you, I’d do it a thousand times over.”

Lizzie blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Even though it wasn’t easy?”

Her father let out a quiet laugh. “Most of the best things in life aren’t easy.” He cupped her cheek, brushing away the tear that had slipped free. “But they’re worth it. And you, kid… you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The tears were falling in earnest now, streaming down her face, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Dad,” she said, voice choked.

He gently pulled her out of her chair and into his arms, letting her cry against his chest like she was suddenly six years old again, overwhelmed and scared and just wanting her dad.

He held her firmly, gently. He didn’t say anything, just let her cling to him.

He rocked her back and forth, the same way he had when she was little and had scraped her knees, gotten too overwhelmed in a crowded place, or cried herself into a seizure. He never let go, just held her close, letting her sob into his shoulder.

"I never regretted it," he repeated. "Not for one single second, Lizzie. You are my daughter. And I will never, never be alright with people treating you like you are a burden or unlovable or that you don't deserve to exist."

Lizzie’s arms tightened around his neck, like she was six again and he was the only thing tethering her to solid ground. It was familiar and comforting, and she had never been more grateful that this man was her dad.

She let herself sink into him. The solid line of his shoulders against her, the beat of his heart, the smell of his favorite cologne. Her dad was quiet and unassuming, soft-spoken and kind, but he was also the most fiercely protective person she’d ever known.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “You are the best thing I ever got out of my marriage,” he murmured. His hand came up to brush her hair away from her face, his palm cupping her cheek. “Just tell me something.”

She sniffed. “What?”

He tilted her chin up, meeting her gaze, his grip on her firm but always gentle. “You’re happy? With Lando?”

She nodded. There was no hesitation, nothing but the familiar, overwhelming certainty that this thing with him was right.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I am.”

“He makes you happy?” he pressed.

She nodded again, not even needing to think about it. “Yeah.” A small smile touched her lips. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

***

***

The tension in the McLaren briefing room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lando was sitting at the head of the table, arms crossed, jaw locked, radiating barely contained fury. Across from him, Sophie from PR looked like she’s fighting off a migraine, while Zak Brown and Andrea Stella exchanged cautious glances.

And then there’s Oscar—legs crossed, scrolling through his phone with the same casual energy as someone reading the weather forecast.

Lando exhaled sharply. “Let me get this straight. You all knew that Lizzie was getting harassed like this, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Sophie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lando, we weren’t trying to hide anything from you. We were monitoring the situation, trying to control the damage before it got out of hand.”

Lando scoffed. “Out of hand? Do you think what’s happening now is ‘under control’?”

Zak leant forward, trying to maintain some authority over the spiraling conversation. “We wanted to handle it internally, without escalating the situation further.”

Lando’s hands slammed onto the table. “Lizzie has been dealing with days of harassment—ableism, threats, even people doxxing her mother—and your grand plan was to just wait it out?”

Zak didn’t immediately respond, which only infuriated Lando further.

“And you let me walk into that interview blind?” Lando’s voice was dangerously low now. “If I hadn’t shut that down myself, what were you expecting me to say? That maybe, yeah, dating my girlfriend is too hard because she has epilepsy? That I regret being with her? Because that’s exactly what they wanted from me.”

Sophie shifted uncomfortably. “We didn’t expect them to be that direct about it—”

“Bullshit.”

Zak sighed, rubbing his temples. “Lando, we understand that you’re upset—”

“No, you don’t!” Lando cut him off, his voice raw with frustration. “You don’t get it at all! You get to sit here and talk about damage control while Lizzie is at home seeing people pick apart her entire existence like she’s a burden. You think I give a shit about PR right now?”

Zak exhaled. “We’re not saying we do nothing. We just need to be strategic about it.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh. “Strategic. Right. Because God forbid McLaren actually takes a stand instead of waiting until it’s convenient.”

Andrea finally spoke up, voice sharp. “Lando. Be reasonable.”

Lando didn’t even bother trying to contain his scoff. “Be reasonable? You think I’m being unreasonable?”

Oscar set his phone down with a thunk. “Okay, I’m done listening to this.”

Sophie tenses. “Oscar—”

“No, really. Because this is ridiculous.” Oscar looks around at everyone, unimpressed. “Lando wants to make a statement, and you’re acting like he’s trying to blow up the whole team. But guess what? It’s already blown up. This isn’t a little PR hiccup. It’s a full-on disaster. And the only thing worse than handling it badly is doing nothing.”

Zak watched him carefully. “We’re trying to avoid making it worse.”

“By saying nothing? That’s not how this works, Zak.” Oscar shrugged. “You want to wait it out? Fine. But I won’t.”

Sophie groaned. “Oscar—”

“Either you release a statement and you’ll let Lando release a statement, or I’ll start tweeting like I did with Alpine.”

Silence.

Zak blinked. Andrea actually looked alarmed. Sophie looked like she might start crying.

Lando could just stare at his teammate.

Sophie swallowed. “You’re bluffing.”

Oscar’s face remained impressively stoic. “Try me.”

“Oscar,” she said slowly, like she’s trying to reason with a wild animal, “do you remember what happened the last time you went rogue on Twitter?”

Oscar arched one eyebrow. “Yeah. Alpine cried about it, and then I got a better seat. Good times.”

Lando, despite his anger, let out a breath of disbelief. “Oscar, you absolute menace.”

Oscar shrugged. “People seem to forget I have zero patience for bullshit.” He picked up his phone again. "Give out a statement. Or I'll do it for you.  I’m pretty sure there are 19 other drivers who will agree with me that ableism is bullshit.”

Sophie buried her face in her hands. Zak swore under his breath. Andrea just looks resigned.

Lando?

Lando finally, finally smirks. “Remind me to buy you dinner later.”

Sophie lifted her head from her hands, eyes darting between Oscar and Lando like she’s debating whether to resign on the spot or fight for what little control she has left. Zak exhaled through his nose, arms crossed, looking like a man who knows he’s lost but refuses to admit it.

Andrea, ever the level-headed one, finally spoke. “Alright. Let’s take a step back. Oscar—if you tweet, what exactly are you planning to say?”

Oscar leans back, unfazed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like—‘If your biggest concern about my teammate’s girlfriend is her having a medical condition instead of, I don’t know, the insane amount of talent she has or the fact that she makes him happy, then I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe try being a better human being.’” He tilts his head. “Something like that.”

Sophie groaned like she’s physically in pain. “Oscar, please.”

Lando was outright grinning now, despite the fury still simmering under his skin. “Yeah, I definitely owe you dinner.”

Zak closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself before responding. “We need to be smart about this. If we make this bigger than it already is, we risk—”

“Risk what?” Lando interrupted, voice sharp again. “Risk pissing off the same people who are already tearing Lizzie apart for existing? Risk upsetting the same journalists who think they can get away with asking me if I regret being with my girlfriend? Fuck that.”

Zak pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lando—”

“No, Zak. I’m done. You guys are trying to manage PR while Lizzie is sitting at home seeing people drag her through the dirt for things she can’t control. You’re worried about making it worse? It’s already as bad as it gets! They doxxed her mother. They’re making fun of her service dog. They’re acting like she’s ruining my life just by being in it. And the longer we say nothing, the longer they think they’re right.”

Silence.

Andrea exhaled, nodding slightly. “He’s right.”

Zak’s eyes snap to him, but Andrea holds his gaze. “This isn’t just a PR issue anymore. It’s an integrity issue. If we ignore this, we’re condoning it. And frankly, I don’t want to work for a team that stays silent when something this disgusting is happening to someone in our family.”

Lando blinked at him, surprised but grateful.

Zak sat back, weighing his options. He looked at Lando, at Oscar, at Andrea. He knew he’s outnumbered.

Finally, with a sigh, he nods. “Fine. We put out a statement.”

Sophie looks pained, but she knows there’s no stopping this now. “What do you want it to say?”

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “That ableism is unacceptable. That Lizzie has been subjected to relentless harassment, and it needs to stop. That McLaren stands by her, and we won’t tolerate this kind of treatment toward her—or anyone.” He looked directly at Zak. “And that I love my girlfriend, and I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Zak held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Alright.”

Oscar grinned. “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tweets to like.”

Sophie looks like she might combust on the spot. “Oscar, for the love of God, please do not start a Twitter war before we even get the statement out.”

Oscar doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Too late.”

Lando leans over to peek at Oscar’s screen and immediately snorts. “Oh my God, you just liked a tweet that says ‘Lando Norris should set the internet on fire and propose out of spite.’”

Oscar shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

Sophie stared at him in open horror. “You’re not helping.”

Zak rubbed his temples. “Alright, let’s get ahead of this before we end up with marriage rumors on top of everything else.”

Andrea, ever the strategist, spoke up. “We need to make sure we’re not just reacting to the backlash. This isn’t about damage control—it’s about making a clear statement. We stand by Lizzie. We won’t tolerate ableism.”

Zak sighs. “Fine. But we phrase it carefully. Something like…” He glances at Sophie.

She still looks exhausted but nods. “‘McLaren stands firmly against the harassment and ableism directed at Elizabeth Treshton. We are appalled by the treatment she has received and fully support Lando and Lizzie against this unacceptable behavior.’”

Lando leans forward. “Make sure you use the word ‘ableism.’ A lot of these people don’t even think what they’re doing is wrong. They need to hear it.”

Zak sighs. “Lando—”

“No.” Lando cuts him off. “This isn’t just about Lizzie anymore. If they can say this shit about her, what’s stopping them from going after other people? What if another driver’s partner has a medical condition? What if it’s a fan next time? If we don’t call this out, we’re saying it’s okay.”

Oscar nodded. “I’m tweeting.”

Sophie groaned. “Of course you are.”

Zak shook his head but didn't argue. “Fine. But let’s make sure McLaren’s statement goes out first.”

Lando quietly said, “Make it strong.”

Sophie exhaled. “It will be.”

Andrea looked at them all, nodding slightly. “Good. Because after this, things are going to get loud.”Oscar, jaw still tight, finally put his phone down. “Good.”

[magical-reid]

could i pretty please request prompt #18 with spencer reid and a forensic scientist reader? would be super duper cool if she was part of the bones (tv show) crew, as i’ve always thought them and cm should have done a crossover. thanks!! ❤️

The Science of Luck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1K

Prompt: 18: "I thought I had the worst luck, until I met you"

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid, a staunch skeptic of luck, finds himself questioning his beliefs after an encounter with a clumsy forensic scientist, who joins the BAU team on a challenging case. Despite their initial bickering and contrasting expertise, the two begin to form an unlikely partnership while investigating a serial killer, leading to a surprising and potentially life-changing connection.

Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t believe in luck. Probability? Sure. Coincidence? Of course. But luck? That was just a cognitive bias humans relied on to explain randomness.

Yet, as he stood ankle-deep in Virginia mud, his pristine pants ruined, watching as yet another forensic scientist nearly slipped and took out an entire evidence table, he found himself reconsidering.

“I thought I had the worst luck,” he muttered, barely dodging a flying clipboard, “until I met you.”

The forensic scientist in question—you—wobbled but managed to right yourself before disaster struck. You shot him a glare as you readjusted your Jeffersonian ID badge. “Not my fault this crime scene is a swamp. And it’s not luck, it’s physics. Slippery surfaces, unstable ground, and a lack of proper traction—”

“That sounds an awful lot like an excuse for bad luck,” Spencer countered.

You huffed but couldn’t argue. You were a forensic scientist, not a field agent, and being thrown into an active crime scene with the BAU was not in your usual job description. You were used to working in the pristine, controlled environment of the Jeffersonian Institute—not chasing serial killers through the backwoods of Virginia.

And yet, here you were.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It all started with a body—or rather, bodies. Multiple skeletal remains had been discovered in various locations across the D.C.-Virginia border, the work of a particularly meticulous serial killer. The BAU had been called in due to the pattern of abductions matching an existing profile, but given the advanced state of decomposition, the FBI had reached out to the Jeffersonian for forensic assistance.

That’s how you ended up here—cold, wet, and questioning all of your life choices.

Agent Hotchner, ever the professional, barely batted an eye at the tension between you and Reid. “Dr. (L/N), thank you for assisting us. Dr. Brennan recommended you personally.”

You straightened your back. Temperance Brennan doesn’t recommend people lightly. “I specialize in isotopic analysis and forensic taphonomy. If your unsub is moving bodies across state lines, I can determine where they were before they ended up here.”

Hotch nodded approvingly. “That would be extremely useful.”

Reid, however, still looked skeptical. “That’s assuming there’s a pattern in the body disposal locations. If the killer is deliberately choosing random drop sites—”

You crossed your arms. “Then I can still tell you about the soil composition, insect activity, and post-mortem damage, which could help narrow down a timeline. It’s basic forensic science, Doctor Reid.”

A small smirk twitched at the corner of Hotch’s lips as he turned away. “Work with Dr. Reid and see what you can find.”

You and Reid stared at each other for a beat too long before sighing simultaneously.

“Fine,” you said.

“Fine,” he echoed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Jeffersonian, you had the advantage. This was your turf, your lab, your meticulously organized work environment. And Spencer Reid—despite his genius—was a little out of place.

“Don’t touch that,” you warned as he hovered near a set of isotopic samples.

“I wasn’t going to,” he shot back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You raised a brow. “I literally just watched you reaching for it.”

“It was a reflex!”

“Uh-huh.”

Despite the bickering, you had to admit—Reid was sharp. He picked up on patterns even before you finished running tests, and while his knowledge of forensic anthropology was limited, he had an uncanny ability to connect seemingly random details.

Together, you started to piece together the unsub’s movements. The isotopic analysis revealed that the victims had spent time in an area with a unique mineral composition—suggesting an underground water source near limestone deposits.

Reid’s encyclopedic brain immediately pulled up a connection. “There’s an abandoned mining town about twenty miles west of the last body dump site. It was shut down in the 1980s, but the underground aquifers match your analysis.”

Your eyes widened. “If the bodies were stored there first, that could explain some of the inconsistencies in decomposition rates.”

He nodded excitedly. “Exactly. We need to check it out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The abandoned town was eerie. Old buildings, rusting equipment, and an unsettling silence. You were with Reid, Morgan, and Booth—because of course Booth had insisted on coming along.

“What are the chances the unsub is actually still here?” you asked, glancing around nervously.

“Statistically?” Reid started, but before he could finish, a gunshot rang out.

“DOWN!” Morgan shouted, pushing you behind cover as bullets ricocheted off the crumbling brick walls.

Your heart pounded as you scrambled for safety. “I am so not cut out for this!”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Booth muttered, drawing his weapon.

Reid, crouched beside you, looked equally shaken but determined. “Stay close to me.”

“Not like I have many options!”

A tense firefight ensued, but the BAU and Booth’s tactical skills won out. The suspect was apprehended, and the nightmare was over.

Mostly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Jeffersonian, you were still rattled. Lab work was one thing. Nearly getting shot was another.

“You okay?” Reid’s voice was softer than usual.

You exhaled. “I will be. Just… not used to being a target.”

“Statistically speaking—”

“Reid,” you warned.

He smirked. “Right. Not helping.”

There was a beat of silence before he hesitated. “For what it’s worth… I think your bad luck might just be situational.”

You gave him a look. “Says the guy who gets kidnapped at least once a year?”

His lips quirked. “Fair point.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. “Guess we’re both unlucky then.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But… maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I mean, we did solve the case together.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying we make a good team?”

Reid shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile. “I’m saying… maybe luck isn’t the worst thing. As long as you have the right person to balance it out.”

You studied him for a moment before smirking. “Are you flirting with me, Dr. Reid?”

His ears turned red. “W-what? No! I mean—maybe? I just meant that—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you were unlucky. But if it meant crossing paths with Spencer Reid?

Maybe, just maybe… luck wasn’t so bad after all.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 2)

“If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

“I wanted the thrill of the chase more than I wanted you.” 

“You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.” 

“This is literally the worst moment for me to be saying this but considering how we could die at any second, I need to get this off my chest before I become buried six feet under, without a chance to say any of this to you: I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you every second of my life; from the moment when I knew what loving someone really meant.” 

“I kinda knew I lost all feelings for you when I realised I didn’t want to communicate with you about the problems that were happening between us. I became complaisant.” 

“Loving you is as easy as overthinking everything.” 

“It’s… easy with you. Nice. I don’t have to be someone else to impress you, because I know you love me for me.”

“There are parts of me I’d never thought I’d show to anyone else, but then… You came along, and for some reason, you made me want to be honest with you; bare my soul to you.”

“So what in the hell are we? I’m not doing this unless we’re on the same page.” 

“Please don’t tell me we’re nothing to you… That I mean nothing after everything’s that happened.”

“You’re my emotional support human, and I love you so, so much.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll be right here. Just as I’ve always been.” 

“I’d let you break my heart, if it means I’d get to have you for even a day.” 

“You make me feel like dancing in the pouring rain wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” 

“You’re astoundingly unhealthy for me, but do I care? No, because I wouldn’t have fallen if I cared, especially when I’m someone who’s usually so careful with whom I give my heart to.”

“…I didn’t drunk call you. It wasn’t a drunk call. I called you, perfectly sober.” 

“You’re someone I want to tell things to.”

“What’s more important to me is that I’m your last love.” 

“This… This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda.” “Do you mean falling in love with me out of all people wasn’t on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m kind of in love?”

“…I want all of you. On top, under, whatever — I don’t care, I just want you.”

“Maybe I can help you forget about them.”

“It’s easier to pretend I’m still in love with them, than leave them in that state.” “You know you basically lying to them about your feelings is gonna hurt them more in the long run, right?” 

“Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be me?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to take that back.” 

“You gotta work for it, love.” 

“We can pretend that didn’t happen.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not as good of an actor as you are.”

“I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before.” “Then follow my lead, okay?”

“I’m someone who falls in love easily, but I’m also someone who can’t get over someone as easily.”

“I want to make this work, because I don’t— I don’t want to— I can’t lose you.” 

“You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up with you.” “You won’t. I promise, you won’t, so just… Do whatever. I trust you.”  

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” “…I was looking at the mail app, and uh… Received some good news?”

“Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

“I’m not doing this for you — I’m doing this for myself.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m here to stay. At least until you want me gone, which I hope is never.” 

“Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullcrap. It’s us both. We’re both at fault for this relationship breakdown.” 

“God, I just like you so, so much.” 

“I think I need to get over you for me to feel better again.” 

“You and your stupid smile… Stop that.” 

“I just need you in me somehow, please—”

“I really hope you realised they were flirting with you.” “…They were?”

“I’ve caught feelings for you, and I know you don’t like me back that way so I just… Wanted to tell you, before I decide to let you go.”

“I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces if that’s what you want me to do, but I’ll leave if you’re not ready for that… For something more with me.” 

“I love you, but I… I don’t think I see a future with you.” 

“Give me a week. A week, and I’ll be back to normal. A week, and I’ll… I’ll be over you. Just a week and you’ll have the old me back. It’s that easy, I promise.”

“I kinda wanna give myself a concussion so I can forget about you and not think about you twenty-four-seven.” 

(pt. 1) | (pt. 3)

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf141 boys

hey y’all :) sorry for not posting yesterday, I was running so many errands..just wanted to drop this link here, it’s a way to help me earn some extra money without having to give me any of your own (you could even sign up and earn money too) just by clicking the link :)

Your boyfriend and the rest of Task Force 141 are at the gym.

You? You’re at home, bored.

And boredom for you is a dangerous thing.

So, naturally, you decide it’s the perfect time to unleash absolute chaos with a song lyric.

What could possibly go wrong?

Captain Price – "she’s unhinged!"

You lay on your couch, feet kicked in the air behind you as you scrolled TikTok, you had somehow landed on text prank videos and you could say that you were very intrigued..and well, bored, and who better to fix that boredom than you boyfriend? It was his own fault for leaving you home alone to go workout with the boys..least you could do was tease him.

missus💍🥵: I just had sex, and it felt so good.

You giggled, waiting for his response, and true to his usual fashion it was almost immediate.

captain🥵❤️: WHAT THE FUCK?

A cackle as you type out the next lyric to the Akon song.

missus💍🥵: A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

This was probably where he would have realized you were fucking with him if he was being rational, but you know he jumped from 0 to 100 real fast.

captain🥵❤️: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN’ ABOUT??

the next second, the phone is ringing, he’s FaceTimed you, and feeling nice you answer.

“Hey baby, how’s it going?” How you keep a straight face is beyond you, but you do.

“HOWS IT GOING? BABY PLEASE TELL ME YOURE FUCKIN AROUND-“

Soap is suddenly in view on the screen, looking over his shoulder at his phone: "Mate, you okay?" He whispers.

“NO, I AM NOT FUCKIN’ OKAY!“

Gaz, seeing Price's death grip on his phone: "Bro, what the fuck—"

Price, jaw clenched: "I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE."

“Well, anyways boys, I just had sex, and I'll never go back to the not-having-sex ways of the past!”

“YOU ARE SIX SECONDS FROM GETTIN’ PUT ON MY FUCKIN KNEE WOMAN-“

Gaz and Soap, now reading over his shoulder: "OH, FUCK." He must have your texts open.

Ghost, hearing the commotion: "What’s going on—" sees the text "…Oh, she’s dead."*

"She’s fuckin’ unhinged." John must be on the move because you don’t see soap when you hear his voice, but, he’s not wrong.

“John, mate, breathe." Gaz, ever the nice guy.

Price is already grabbing his keys, you can hear them jingling aggressively in his hands. "I swear to God, I’m fuckin’ going home." His voice was full of anger, and it should’ve made you nervous but it didn’t, you felt a thrill instead.

Then—

“JK babe, it’s a prank! Love youuuu!” You’re cackling, blowing him kisses.

Price stops dead in his tracks. His eye twitches. You cackle some more, kicking your feet.

“I’m gonna strangle her."

“Aye, but you love her, don’t ye?"

“That’s the worst part."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "baby please!"

honey💋: I’m doin’ this tonight. You’re probably gonna start a fight. I know this can’t be right.

Gaz is mid set on the cable machine, working on some lat pull downs, when he sees it, he stops (ever the dutiful boyfriend) to see what you had said and is immediately taken aback.

babes❤️: EXCUSE ME???

Your response is almost immediate.

honey💋: I know that I can’t take no more.

His eyebrows furrow, confused, thinking he’s done something wrong he calls you, heart racing.

You ignore it, but send another text.

honey💋: I wanna see you out that door…

babes❤️: BABY, PLEASE.

“Johnny! Johnny look at this!” He practically shouts, grabbing his beefy friend and shoving his phone into his face. “Is she being serious?”

Another text comes in and Soap raises an eyebrow, using his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face.

honey💋: Bye, bye, bye~

babes❤️: I AM LITERALLY SPRINTING TO YOUR APARTMENT, BABY PLEASE.

He takes off on foot, your apartment wasn’t that far from their gym, one of the many reasons he suggested moving into it. “I need to see her!”

Soap, breathless after running after him, ever the dutiful friend. "BRO, WAIT!"

“Gaz, it’s probably a prank—" Ghost is behind him too as he runs full stop, his friend a little less breathless than him.

“I CAN’T RISK THAT, MATE!" Hes made it to your apartment building, and thankfully you have a ground floor unit because he bursts through your apartment door, panting. "BABY, PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE JOKING!"

You giggle, setting your glass of iced coffee down on the dining table as you leave the kitchen. "Kyle, oh my God—"

"OH, THANK FUCK."

He pulls you into his arms, holding you like he just got back from deployment. "Don’t fuckin’ do that, babe!"

Soap stumbles in behind him, wheezing. "Bro, I swear to God, you made me run mid-leg day—"

Gaz glares at you, still hugging you. "You owe me a fuckin’ back rub for this, I swear to God."

“She owes me one too, mate.” Ghost jokes, leaning against the door frame. “Can we go finish our workout now? Need a spot for the bench”

Simon "Ghost" Riley – "who is this man?!."

He’s on a cool down at the gym when you send the first text, he checks it even though he rarely answers his phone when he’s at the gym.

wifey💋❤️: Everything you own in the box to the left. In the closet, that's my stuff, if I bought it, please don't touch.

“Huh?” He has to stare at the screen for a second, wondering if he’d read it right.

hubs🥵: WHAT.

wifey💋❤️: Go ahead and get gone. Call up that chick and see if she’s home.

“The fuck?” His words came out a little louder than he meant, attracting Johnny and Kyle.. “You two make any sense a’this?”

hubs🥵: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT?

wifey💋❤️: Oops, I bet you thought that I didn’t know. What did you think I was puttin’ you out for?

Soap and Gaz, reading over his shoulder: "Ohhhhh, fuck."

Ghost, vein throbbing in his forehead, looks at them in bewilderment, eyes wide. “I Don’t know what she’s talking about- I,.I wouldn’t have another woman!”

hubs🥵: WHAT FUCKIN’ CHICK? WHO THE FUCK IS SHE? NAME FUCKIN’ NAMES.

wifey💋❤️: You must not know ’bout me. I could have another you in a minute. Matter of fact, he’ll be here in a minute—

hubs🥵: ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.

Ghost, eyes black with rage, storms out of the gym. "I’m going home."

"Wait—" Soap chases him. “Bro, no, she’s fucking around—" He’s already out the door though, throwing the door of his truck open so hard that they’re surprised he didn’t rip it off.

“Lass is in for it..” Soap sighs, looking to Gaz.

He’s scratching his head, one hand on his hip. “Did they get married and not tell us? He’s got her as wifey in his phone..”

The drive home takes five minutes with him breaking every rule of the road, he pulls into the driveway and throws it in park, jumping down and not even bothering to close the door.

Ghost kicks open your door like a fucking SWAT team.

"BABY, WHO THE FUCK IS THIS MAN? WHERE IS HE?" He’s running up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You scream, laughing as he tackles you onto the bed, caging you in. "SIMON, IT’S A PRANK!"*

Ghost freezes. His breath hot against your throat. "…What?"

You hold up your still-streaming phone. "Say hi to the chat, babe."

He grabs your phone and ends the live with one click, but not before talking to them first."Y’all are fuckin’ done."

(Chat explodes with screaming.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "crying in the weight room."

babygirl💍: You don’t have to say what you did, I already know.

he was just finishing his first set of squats, getting ready to add more weight to the bar when he checked his phone, and then almost dropped a 50lb plate on hys foot.

babyboy🫶: WHAT DID I DO??

No. Seriously, what the fuck did he do? He literally has only been thirty minutes..did he not close the garage door? did he leave the fridge open again? step on the cat? the bugger did it to himself!

babygirl💍: You told me you loved me, why did you leave me all alone?

babyboy🫶: BABY I LITERALLY WENT TO THE GYM, WHAT THE FUCK???

“Kyle!” He felt tears welling in his eyes, his heart racing as he started to panic. He’d rather shoot him self in the foot than upset you like this, it was his worst nightmare.

babygirl💍: The bridges were burned, now it’s your turn to cry.

A sob ripped from his throat, Kyle behind him rubbing his back as he figures out what exactly is going on, saying soothing words.

babyboy🫶: I’M FUCKING CRYING RIGHT NOW.

babyboy🫶: PLEASE, BABY, I AM IN THE FUCKING WEIGHT ROOM CRYING.

Then—

Kyle sends you a photo.

Of Soap.

Sitting on the weight bench.

Head in his hands.

Shoulders shaking.

annoying ass����: Babes, please stop. I cannot handle seeing my brother like this.

Your heart breaks instantly.

You immediately call him. "Johnny, baby, it was a prank, I swear—"

"BABY WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??"

"I’m so sorry, baby, please, I love you—"

Kyle, in the background: "Bro, she didn’t actually break up with you—"

Soap, still sniffling: "Aye, but she fuckin’ COULD’VE.“

You spend the next hour apologizing, sending him photos in his favorite positions as incentive for your apology..

Moral of the Story:

You thought it would be funny.

Now?

You might be single.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse

October 1925

Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.

He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…

But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.

Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"

"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"

"I know it must hurt --"

"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.

"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."

"It's not fair that I feel like this!"

"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."

"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."

"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."

"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.

"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"

"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."

"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."

Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.

"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.

"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."

"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.

"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."

"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.

"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"

His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.

"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."

"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.

Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."

"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"

"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."

"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."

As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"

"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"

"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."

"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."

"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.

No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.

"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."

"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."

He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.

"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"

"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."

"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"

"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."

"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"

"You know her too?"

"Yes, I'm aware of her."

"Are you going to kill her, too?"

"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"

"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.

"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"

"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."

Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."

"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.

"Working with a vampire?"

"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"

"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."

Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?

"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."

"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"

"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."

"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"

"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."

"Yes, of course."

Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.

He was free.

Wasn't he?

It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.

He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…

Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.

He'd been hypnotized into affection.

And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.

And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.

But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.

No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.

He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.

It was exhilarating. But…

For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.

I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!

Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy @wumpbean

[hermitscratch]

Joel & Etho - 21, for the writing ? :3

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

21. A kiss to shut them up, Joel/Etho, 957 words

[ Inspired in part by this lovely artwork by @plumadot ! ]

"So I've got a theory," Joel started.

It was a nice day; temperate in a way that heralded the approaching warm season. A lot of hermits were taking advantage of it to check the things off their to-do lists that weren't easily done in cold or wet weather. Etho had broken off from the others for just that purpose, but as soon as he mentioned needing coral, Joel invited himself along.

Which meant a return to form in the shape of them, once again, sharing a boat.

"Do I have to listen to your theory?" Etho asked. The answer didn't matter much when he was a captive audience, but their conversations up until this point had been general, casual nonsense. How they spent their morning, how they liked their steak cooked, what ore they'd most be willing to eat. Time killers at worst, amusement at best.

Joel scoffed. "Don't act like you don't want to know what I'm thinking," Etho felt an elbow land against his ribs without any real force. It might have been rougher, if they weren't currently faced away from each other. Joel liked watching the wake the boat left behind, so they were pressed back-to-back. "It's about your obsession."

"My obsession? Don't you mean yours?" He retorted. Joel snorted, and Etho could imagine the smug grin that'd be accompanying it.

"This projection is getting embarrassing, Etho," Joel said with thinly veiled glee.

Etho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just tell me about your theory," He said through a chuckle.

From behind him, Joel wiggled like he was trying to look over his shoulder. The boat rocked hard to the left, and Joel stilled before crowing, "I knew you wanted to know!"

Etho stopped rowing to peer over the boat's edge. The ocean here was deep, illuminated only faintly by magma pockets and the occasional rogue glow squid. They'd made a lot of headway, but there was still a ways to go to reach an untouched reef. "I wonder if I could swim back to shore from here..."

"I'll push you overboard myself if you don't let me get a blummin' word out," Joel griped, even as he fisted a hand in the back of Etho's shirt. It wouldn't do much if Etho decided to move, but the idea that Joel might want him to stay was more than enough for Etho to do so.

Not that Etho would ever tell him that; his ex-soulmate's ego was big enough.

"You're the one stopping, though?" Etho answered, rebalancing the boat and adjusting the oars to continue rowing. Joel's inhale was audible, and before he could argue, Etho urged, "Let's hear your theory."

Joel crossed his arms with a huff. Etho grinned. Joel was probably pouting and everything. "D'you remember what Gem said this morning?"

"Hmm," Etho had to think the question through. They'd been hanging out with Gem, Impulse, and Scar that morning, a lot of things were said. "Mmmmaybe?"

After a few minutes of fruitless sifting through snippets of conversation that Joel might have found noteworthy, he threw Etho a bone. "When we were arguing about who built a better cherry tree, still me by the way, she said-"

Ah. "'Just kiss already', or something?" Etho offered.

Joel clapped once, "Exactly."

Etho laughed, pitching his voice up in a mockery of Joel's, "Oh no, I'm not obsessed, I'm just chasing him making smoochy sounds and thinking a lot about Gem telling us to kiss-"

"That first thing was literally your fault!" Joel argued, "And I'm not thinking about it, alright? There's nothing to think about, it's just a thing that is!"

"What is?"

Joel seemed to shrink, curling forward so their backs were no longer touching. "If we kissed, the world would sorta collapse, wouldn't it?"

Etho stopped so abruptly that he almost dropped an oar. What? "Uh. No?"

"Of course you'd say so, it's stupid how bad you wanna kiss me," Joel scoffed. The turn in conversation was so jarring that Etho didn't even argue the point about wanting to kiss Joel. "But the stir it'd cause would be massive. Gem would explode. Bdubs would probably explode, maybe Grian? Scar and Skizz, definitely, we'd never hear the end of it."

Etho locked the oars and turned around in his seat. If Joel noticed, he gave no indication, plowing relentlessly forward as if he'd realized there was no going back now that he'd started. Etho recognized that habit from their time together in Double Life- an anxious Joel with no other outlet would ramble himself breathless.

"Your mask as well," Joel continued, "Nobody's seen you without it-"

Etho tugged his mask down.

"-that's probably grounds for server obliteration in itself-"

He put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"-if the first time anybody saw your face was for a kiss like that, then-"

He turned Joel to face him.

And before Joel could say another word, Etho kissed him.

Silence. Bliss. Etho's lips were dry from the mask, and he kept the press of them soft until he felt Joel's stiff body melt, meeting Etho's lean halfway. He tilted his head, and he could feel the flutter of long lashes against his face as Joel's eyes shut. The world kept turning, and Etho let it, stealing a moment just for them.

It only ended when Etho pulled away, leaving a dazed Joel to process what had just happened. Etho didn't bother putting his mask back up when he grinned. "Still alive?"

"Wh- y-?" Joel floundered. Etho chuckled, and Joel scowled, even as a dusty blush painted his cheeks pink. Even as he turned to face Etho properly, dropping his head against Etho's shoulder. Even as Etho felt lips against his racing pulse.

"Oh, shut up, Etho."

[space-blue]

A true off my chest bit about Jinx

It's a little critical of the show, but not hate posting. Just my feelings regarding the handling of Jinx.

I just feel like Jinx's death shows the writers hand in a bad way.

To me act 1 sucks because it felt the most rushed and like it needed to pad and set some things in motions, and most importantly they needed to delay Jinx's suicidality.

By all accounts Jinx should have broken after Silco's death. She should have buried him in the Pilt, walked home, set the place on fire and killed herself.

Instead she needs to be delayed, and she needs to have a reason to be in Stillwater with a lot of Zaunites, so that Singed can do his hiring bid demo with Warwick and score a new employer in Embessa.

It's convoluted, but basically Jinx needs two things :

temporary sanity

a reason to completely blow up later on

And they do both via Isha, the worst character in the whole show as far as I'm concerned.

She's introduced in a bad music video that does a weird job of introducing "sane Jinx". Then she seems to immediately be part of the team, and her attachment to Jinx, with zero set up, made it super out of left field.

It was blatant that she was being set up as a mini Powder to calm Jinx down, and when she blows herself up it's not gratifying if you know she's just a crank/lever being used to flip Jinx into dark and depressed mode.

IMO this could have been handled better (and I'd change a lot of the Zaun situation in Act 1 alongside), but then could have still led to Jinx being "saved" by Ekko.

Instead, I feel like the writers, maybe pressed for time, maybe unwilling to keep the "loose canon" as she was in the new state of the world, chose to kill her off.

Her death is Vi's fault, and I can't help but feel it's manufactured.

I feel like the writers broke Jinx an extra time just to tilt her over the edge and have that emotional scene with Ekko, but then couldn't see how to "excuse her".

Like what she's done is too fucked up, too dark (even if Cait served the city to Noxus on a silver platter, gased zaun, and faced no consequences lol) and she can't be made to move on from the horrors of it all.

It feels like they didn't have the time or will to break the cycle for Jinx. But it feels bad. It feels like it was an "attempt at redemption" death.

WW was an arcane creature by then and they all fucked off with Viktor and Jayce. They could have chosen to keep him innactive. They could have had Vi going with Ekko and relying on him.

The one person who can truly believe in the good in her, because he's literally experienced it in another version of herself. The one guy who could tell her again and again that it's not HER, it's the way the world made things, and that this can change.

I don't see why shy away from that, even implied, especially after Ekko managed to pull her from the brink.

It feels like Jinx is a "too far gone" rabid dog better put down than left loose in their setting.

And I don't really vibe with that. I thought true redemption would be her living. Leading. Her and Ekko could work to better Zaun while Sevika safeguards their interests in the Council.

And Vi could have still cried over WW's body.

[lucabyte]

i am looking at nohats au 👀 please share more

So! NoHats! I'm going to grab you and use this to ramble. A Lot.

The NoHats AU is @samhainian's it's just that I'm the strange little freak who takes the words said unto me and executes on them. But I can still do a little explainer on what our overall thoughts and vibes are. (And, that we are in fact propping up a little box with some cheese under it here. 🪤 Please (PLEASE) feel free to pick up what we're putting down.)

We're far from the only ones exploring a "what if siffrin fucking died" AU, though the main difference with NoHats is the placement of the death in the timeline. Instead of being 'Mal Du Pays Wins' or 'Act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong', the death is… Just after the (literal) falling action.

(This placement is because Sam is a comic book fan who thus has become used to characters being ripped away at the cruelest times by shitty writers. THANK FUCKING GOD adrienne is not that and isat is delightful yippieee, but, back on topic.)

Giving the party the full understanding of What Happened that you get by putting the death after black hole siffrin, but before the A6 encounter leaves an interesting gap to be filled. See, making Siffrin's death very much not Loop's fault means that… this once again reads (when not read as simply a tragedy...) as the universe doing what it sees fit to fulfull Loop's wish… Thus making Siffrin's death Loop's fault again, but only in their eyes. And only in a way they could express if they were honest about who they were…

And this is where having had excuse to waffle about my general Postcanon Loop thoughts the other day comes in handy, because Sam and I have that as our canon-compliant reading to begin with, NoHats plays off of a lot of the same readings of Loop's character. Namely: Uh Oh Somebody's Lying By Fucking Omission Again. (BECAUSE TO BE FAIR THIS TIME… HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU HANDLE THAT?)

Now, neither Sam nor I are fanfic writers, so this has been a little bit trapped in our heads and DMs (and my unfinished art but,)

But our thoughts on how NoHats like… Goes.

Siffrin's death is peaceful, but that does not mean the aftermath of it is. I can't imagine the party takes it well, especially after understanding the circumstances of the Loops. (And, of note, in A5 where nobody had the discussion on what to do with each other's bodies should something happen…) But I'd imagine it traumabonds them somewhat (understatement of the century) and now knowing how the rest of the party feels, they resolve to travel together for the forseeable future.

The party track down Loop to deliver the terrible news, since they were clearly Siffrin's friend too, and invite Loop along to travel at least long enough to (let them grieve) get the burial over with. Loop, here, can be helpful in knowing what Siffrin would've wanted where the party would be at a loss. Loop, I think, takes a bit of a lead on the funerary aspects of it all, because, um. (Performing rites on your own body, huh?)

Then, as things are after a death, life just… Kind of has to continue on as normal. The party travel, pick up Nille, and get to know Loop as this mysterious new person. Maybe in this situation they might stay in Bambouche for a while to give Bonnie more stability since. They are probably taking it the worst. It would've come out of absolutely nowhere for everyone in the party obviously but god, for a kid? For A Kid?

It should be stated NoHats is not intended to be grimdark, just y'know. An exploration of grief. This is also why it's got a bit of a lopsided focus on Bonnie vs the rest of the party because hhrrhghghhghghhhghhghhh <- incoherent

Now, a crossroads.

How does the party discover Loop to be Siffrin? How long does it take. How much have the party embraced them as part of the family (especially with something as intense to bond over as this)?

There's the Odile option. Have her put it together and have to bring it up somehow. This could also be done by Isabeau, perhaps. He's smart. (which. God. If anything's the real Isabeau Torment Nexus it's this)

Then there's the other option batted around by Sam and I. The: The Universe Dislikes Duplicates option.

The items in the house that fzzt away when inspected. The Universe doesn't like there to be two of something, at least not when they're acknowledged. But one of something is just fine…?

Which is to say. I'm not a personal proponent of 'Loop getting their body back'. EXCEPT …… except this one time.

There's only one Siffrin now, so they don't need to be obfuscated to exist.

Consider, if you will. Loop swallowing their guilt for long enough to be comfortable. Falling back into old habits. Without another Siffrin around to compete for the niche of, they actually begin to act like Siffrin again. Not intentionally, it's just… The party is as welcoming as they've always been. And the party swears they keep catching glimpses of a face under all the light.

Then, one day, while still not fully human again, the resemblence becomes undeniable. Loop having not even noticed until everyone looks at them like they've seen a ghost.

Has it been months? How long have they kept up this lie? Is it even a lie, to them? They're Loop. But they were, once, Siffrin.

Even after explaining it, does that make it better or worse?

Bonnie cuts through the betrayed, struck-nerve reactions with a sobering "I missed you."

… Anyway !

Yeah so that's the vibe for NoHats. As for LoopLoops? That's more nebulous. I think it can go anywhere really in the NoHats timeline. I err personally toward the "Loop continuously replays the last 10 minutes before Siffrin's death almost immediately after they find out and have to parkour their ass up the House in the most distressing situation possible to try and get them to hold on, just please hold on." (Remember! Siffrin can remember the contents of Loop's loop backs in the A6 fight!)

But there is the possibility that this happens months, or worse years down the road. One last Loop back. Throw it all away for the chance to just get that one thing you didn't know you even wanted but now know you NEED.

Misc:

Okay miscellaneous time.

This is where I admit that I have a bunch of unfinished NoHats art that I haven't gotten around to yet because I feel like a right tool being so obviously Loop-Centric with my fancontent (I AM . . I REALISE I AM NOT DOING MUCH TO BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS.) So like if people want to see that please say because euaghghghhfh <- the nervous.

this is like the most fucked up place to do isaloop fr. anyway.

one of Sam's mid-game observations that I'm just going to share for no particular reason is that Bonnie's hair shares a bunch of shapes with Siffrin's. The flick up at the top, the 3 pronged shape of the fringe… just something to think about.

Without 2 Siffrins around to compare each other to it'd likely be a lot harder to notice Loop's similarities. Doesn't mean that those similarities don't sting more in this context though.

If you do NoHats without LoopLoops. The concept of this all fading into memory years down the line while they just have slightly-glowy but otherwise regular Siffrin hanging out is fucked up to think about. Just like real grief. Augh

6. a peek into the original dms as a treat from us

[collectivephilosopher]

ARCANE WASTED POTENTIAL (PART 4)

(An analysis of Arcane's missed opportunity and what could have been. The title might be a little confusing but since I've started by it, I've decided to stuck with it to avoid anyone feeling gaslighted :p)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Let's talk about science in Arcane.

I trully have no idea why they decided to go with the notion that "hextech was evil all along." Like... what?

S1 theme about hextech was regarding progress and the cost of it. But I think that looking at episode 3, Ekko's confrontation with Jayce gave us another perspective in this theme. That is the relationship between nature and technology as Ekko said, "you're telling me, that pattern is on my tree because you pissed the arcane off with all your demands?" Jayce was moving so fast with hextech, asking so much that the hextech starts corrupting the nature. That's also as seen to what happened in the AU where hextech was overdeveloped.

So why is it that the show suggest that hextech was inherently bad and must be destroyed at all cost? If I must equate hextech to a real life example, I would say nuclear power. It's not inherently bad, it's just how you use it. If you turn it to nuclear bomb, it'll kill people and torment them with what came after. If you use it for power plant, it became an alternative power source.

This also tied to other technology outside hextech. For example shimmer. As far as I understand, raw shimmer is extracted from natural plant grew in the undercity. It's an addictive substance with various side effects like increasing adrenaline and body mutation as seen on addicts.

Shimmer was a nuanced topic. It has healing properties and as far as we know, shimmer was the only effective medicine available in the zaun. Shimmer is like narcotics. It's used in medical settings, but also used as psychotropic, stimulant, etc. Obviously what shimmer does to an addict was bad but that's more have to do with Silco's shimmer cartel (and even this is a gray topic). I kinda have problem with S1 treating all shimmer as bad but back then I thought they were going to expand more in S2 which never happened.

It baffles me how they treat scientific progress as "bad". It comes at a cost, yeah, and the cost was more than Heimerdinger's statement about "a couple of explosion in lab" type of thing. But that's literally why research must be done in a controlled environment.

I can understand why Heimerdinger was so anti magic at the first season. And I can understand why Viktor was so inclined in developing hexcore because he qas literally dying. Heimerdinger was right about ensuring hextech was safe but Viktor and Jayce was right as well to want to push it faster. Maybe not mass produced but used to help people. Not just y'know make hexgate for trade routes.

Heimerdinger immidiately ordering Jayce and Viktor to destroy the hexcore was a mistake on his part in my opinion. If he was so scared of hexcore being developed into something bad, then he should've supervised it. Accident can happen but usually an experiment was conducted once you have a hypothesis, it's not like Viktor was going into it blindly. And mind you, this can save life. Hell, it already healed Viktor's legs. Yes it killed Sky, but there is a reason to it and that reason is shimmer in Viktor's blood which absent in Sky's. It's not like Viktor was making a deal with a demon and the demon took Sky as payment. And the worst part is that Heimerdinger refused to listen to any reason. What was Viktor supposed to do? Accept his fate and die young from the effect of pollution that was not his fault?

Speaking about the pollution, if arcane wants to say progress == bad, they should've talked about the waste thrown to Zaun. This is also relationship between progress and nature only that this one is industrial progress and nature (and even so, it's not the industry that was "bad"). This part of the theme actually tied up to hextech. Ignorance. Ignorance in throwing waste down the fissure without proper filter, ignorance developing hextech (made a tower filled with dozen of hexcore) without fully understanding the cost of it. Like seriously, have no one in the show ever wonder what's the cost of hextech usage? They just treat it like philosopher stone?

But no, the show decided that hextech was "bad" bad and Heimerdinger was right all along.

"You want to cure your imperfections"

No Jayce, he wants to live.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

I guess since I always write about X-Men when drunk, let me talk to you about Scott Summers.

Now look, Scott has a lot of haters, many of them my friends. I even agree with them. There's no easy way to take in Scott Summers. Because more than anything, Scott Summers is a question.

What do you do when they take it from you?

The answer can be many things. If you're Xavier, the answer is, you deny people their childhood. Scott, you're a child soldier by 13. You have just survived a traumatic plane crash in which your family seemingly all died. If you look at people, they die too, and it's your fault. You wear a literal filter to interact with everyone. Sometimes they tell you they're mad and you don't understand. The filter isn't thick enough. Xavier pats your head and tells you this is how it is. You have to be better. You have to be better than them. You have to be better than everybody.

If you're Magneto, the answer is your life. He had everything taken away from him so thoroughly, so long ago, that you, Scott, can't even fathom it. He's introduced to you while stealing nuclear warheads to threaten people who hate you. Every word Xavier has ever told you stings in your brain, like a worm. This is wrong. This is the enemy. He's doing it wrong. He's getting a bad grade at being a mutant. These feelings will poke at you for the rest of your life. You will come to disagree with them. By the time you're 40, you couldn't imagine a more steadfast ally than Magneto. He gets it, you see. No one else gets it like Max does.

If you're Jean Grey, the answer is fire. Create fire. Look for fire. Date a guy who can shoot fire from his eyes. Who can spit fire from his mouth and raise the dead with his words. Who can stand before the apocalypse and burn, burn as hard as fire can burn, as hot as a volcano, enough that the police are involved, that the Avengers are involved, that the gods are involved. Burn and burn and turn to ash and burn further until they stop telling you you're worthless. They never will. But Scott will never be one of them. He would rather burn everlasting than tell you you're less than what you think you are.

If you're Emma, it's kill them from the inside. Become part of the problem to make the problem go away. Meet the problem in their house. Fuck the problem. Buy the problem. Kill the problem by giving them a stroke. Emma thinks you, Scott, could be so much more. You could end the problem in a day, two days tops. You could rally them and radicalize them and make them see how insidious the problem is. But you never would. You tried, and it didn't agree to you. It got weird. You got weird.

If you're Logan, the answer is drinking. You drink and you try to forget, but you never do. You can't. You hang out with this guy, this beautiful, certain, consistent man, and you can't forget what you've lost, but you can make new memories. You can be someone else. You can put on a robe and lay down on a lazy chair and drink near Scott, overlooking the Earth, and you can think, I never want to forget this. I never want to not be here, with Scott, looking over everything. Feeling like I do, doing the things I do, having the relationship I do with him. But eventually it all goes away again, and you remember, right, I'm a violent person, I'm made for battle, I don't deserve love, I don't deserve Scott, I don't deserve anything. I deserve the woods. The wolves. The simplicity. The desire to forget, but never quite getting there. If you're Logan, you don't actually have an answer. Your whole life is a question without an answer.

And then you're Scott. You wonder what you should do when they take it from you. You're surrounded by people radicalized by their choices on how to react to that. You're radicalized by your mistakes. You're radicalized by the fights, the torture, the betrayal, the time in space, the time in hell, the time suffering. Every year of your life was the worst year of your life. Everything you've ever done is a thing to be mocked and used as a standard at the same time. No one knows who you are aside from the guy to listen to. You're 40. You're a father. You're tired. Your first instinct upon being given everything was gathering your family and moving; to the moon, even, where no one could hurt you. And then they took that away from you, too.

So, what do you do?

There's only really one answer.

You sigh, you put on the suit, you do some voice training, you call some friends. You do a speech. You suppress the feeling that it's futile, because that feeling is the oppressor, too. And you say it, like you've said it a thousand times, like you'll say it a thousand times more, like you were made to say, like you were taught to say, like your entire legacy will revolve around how you say this single phrase.

You will say this from your chest. You will say this when no one else is around and no one else is listening. You will say it because it's the right thing to say, and god damn it, at the end of the day, you will never acquiesce. You will never compromise. You will, in fact, always say it, for the rest of your life and beyond. When you're dead and buried and not coming back on the regular, people will still talk about how right you were when you said it, how righteous you sounded when you said it, and how certain you were when you said it.

You say it when they're attacking, you say it when you're attacking, you say it as a defense, you say it as a response, you say it as every figure of importance in your life has given way to compromise or disappointment; as everyone has left you, and has moved on, and has decided oppression doesn't equal a life poorly lived, and has asked you to lose their number because they can't do this anymore, it has taken too much from them and they don't want this to be their lives.

You say you understand, you lose their number, you stop relying on them, and you start saying it to others. Sometimes to people who are too young, but they get it. This is the only appropriate reaction, after all. You were Scott and you were 13 years old when you were a soldier. They can do that, too.

What do you do when they take everything away from you?

Scott Summers sighs and fills his chest with air.

When they take it all from you, Cyclops says "To me, my X-Men."

[onyx-is-a-loser]

!! SPOILERS !! Arcane: Season 2, Episode 7 (LONG A- BRAINDUMP)

Found this in my drafts and it’s kinda too funny not to post (sorry if it makes no sense, I was very emotional)

LITERALLY the most emotionally violent thing I’ve ever experienced and I NEED to talk about it:

OKAY so like, Ekko wakes up in this dream world where everything is perfect and I’m like "aww cute, it’s like a Hallmark movie," and then 2 SECONDS later “WAIT NO, THIS ISN’T REAL, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME” because the moment he gets comfortable, the show’s like, “LOL nope, here’s reality, have fun with the trauma, buddy.”

THE CONTRAST. THE JUxtaposition of dream vs. nightmare?? I can’t breathe.

I’m screaming because Ekko’s dream world is all golden light and perfect and everyone is alive, and I’m sitting here like “YES, PLEASE LET HIM LIVE IN THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE HIS FAMILY DOESN’T DIE” and then reality is sharp and cold and cracked and I’m CAN YOU PLEASE NOT JUST SHOVE THIS MUCH PAIN INTO MY FACE???

The clock motif is an entire thesis on grief and time, why is this show so goddamn smart?? Ekko’s dream world is a pristine clock, but the real world is “lol no time doesn’t work that way, here’s a broken, rusted piece of trash” and I’m sitting here like, YES, tell me more about how time is a construct and I’m crying because none of us can go back and fix things. THANKS, ARCANE, FOR THE PAIN.

ALSO

Powder in the dream world?? She’s soft and innocent and I “holy SHIT this is the Powder we could have had, this is what she could have been if everything wasn’t so messed up,” and then I blink and she’s Jinx again, chaotic, explosive, neon nightmare fuel, and I’m just lying on the floor like "why do I do this to myself." I LOVE HER DONT GET ME WRONG BUT I ALSO WANT HER TO BE HAPPY

And don’t even get me started on Ekko and Powder dancing like it’s some kind of tragic, beautifully animated nightmare. I’m crying, I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, because this is the kind of thing that could have been real if the fate of their world didn’t DESTROY THEM. Who hurt you, Ekko? WHO HURT YOU BOTH??

The soundtrack in this episode is too much for me to handle. It starts off all soft and whimsical like “oh, this is nice, everything’s fine, I’m fine,” and then—BOOM—reality hits and I’m curled in a ball crying because it feels like every note is punching me in the gut. (This will definitely be a separate post)

There’s just so much GRIEF in this episode. Like, Ekko doesn’t want to leave the dream world because it’s everything he ever wanted, and honestly, I GET IT. Who wouldn’t want to live in a universe where your worst trauma never happens?? But then he HAS to leave because it’s not real, and reality is just there, waiting to crush you like a hextech bomb.

And I swear to god, the entire episode is a metaphor for “it’s not your fault, but it still hurts, and you can’t change the past, and that’s the worst part.” So yeah, I’m just sitting here trying to figure out how to recover from this emotional rollercoaster that is literally breaking my brain.

Arcane is a work of art, but it’s also a weapon of mass destruction. And I am DONE.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 18

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

This has literally all the worst things the internet has to offer: Ableism, Sexisms, Toxic Media, horrible journalism, death threats...I am pretty sure I am missing some of it.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando was exhausted. His body ached, the post-race adrenaline long gone, and his head was still spinning from the chaos of the last few hours. But the moment he spotted Lizzie waiting just outside the McLaren motorhome, arms crossed, wearing his hoodie, none of that mattered.

She grinned the second she saw him. “Podium at home,” she said, stepping closer. “You looked good up there.”

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “Felt like I could’ve done better.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You stood next to Max and Lewis on the podium at Silverstone, Lando. Take the win.”

He huffed a laugh. “Fine. But only because you said so.”

She smirked. “Good, Pretty Boy.”

He groaned, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you keep me around," she teased him before growing serious. "I’m proud of you.” Her voice was softer now, meant just for him.

His chest went tight in the best way, and he wanted nothing more than to stand there forever. But the media was still prowling, and he knew the longer they lingered, the more likely someone would shove a camera in Lizzie’s face, and he was not in the mood for that.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist as they turned toward the parking lot.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional burst of radio chatter as their driver navigated through the post-race traffic. Lizzie rested her head against the seat, fingers absently playing with the sleeve of Lando’s hoodie that she’d stolen earlier.

Lando found himself stealing glances at her while she wasn't looking, caught somewhere between exhaustion and the urge to blurt out what had been on his mind all day. The closer they got to privacy, the more his thoughts swirled.

It wasn’t until they were halfway there that he finally exhaled and said, “You won’t believe the absolute bullshit they asked me in the post-race presser.”

Lizzie hummed. “Oh, I have a guess,” she said drily, one hand absentmindedly petting Mara. 

That gave him pause. He turned his head to look at her. “Wait, you’re not surprised?”

She sighed, shifting so she could meet his gaze. “Lando, people like that always think disability is a burden. They just don’t usually say it out loud where it gets recorded.”

Lando had never wanted to throw a journalist into a wall more in his life.

His grip tightened on the seam of his race suit. “Well, they did say it out loud. And I told them they were full of shit.”

Lizzie’s mouth twitched. “I’d have paid money to see Max and Lewis’s faces.”

“Oh, Max looked like he was gonna throw a chair,” Lando said. “Lewis just did that thing where he got all quiet and disappointed, which somehow made it worse.”

Lizzie chuckled, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was trying to brush it off. Like this was just another part of life she had to accept.

It made him sick.

When they got to the hotel, Lando kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed, tugging Lizzie down beside him. She curled into his side without hesitation, their bodies fitting together easily.

For a while, they just lay there. Lando traced patterns on her back, letting the post-race exhaustion settle over him. Lizzie’s breathing evened out, her fingers lightly resting on his stomach.

Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he reached for his phone.

And immediately regretted it.

Fuck, he hadn’t expected this.

The internet was a fucking warzone.

The clip of the interview had already gone viral. His own words were plastered across Twitter, Instagram, TikTok—everywhere. Some people were defending him, but far, far too many were twisting it into something else entirely.

He scrolled past comments that made his blood turn to ice.

“He’s just saying that because he has to.” “Epilepsy is a liability. He’ll figure that out eventually.” “Lando should focus on racing, not playing nurse.” “They won’t last.” “Imagine risking a career over some disabled chick.”

“She’s a liability.” “No way this lasts.” “Epilepsy is a burden. She’s holding him back.” “He’s just saying that because he has to.” “F1 drivers should date models, not disabled girls.”

Lando’s stomach churned. He kept scrolling, seeing more and more of it.

Then he started seeing things from before the interview.

People digging through Lizzie’s old posts. Analyzing her seizures. Mocking her service dog. Even accusing her of faking it for attention.

“She plays it up for sympathy.” “She knew what she was getting into dating an F1 driver, she shouldn’t complain.” “She’s so dramatic about it.”

Lando barely registered that he’d started shaking.

“Lando.” Lizzie’s voice was quiet but firm. “Stop.”

He blinked, realizing his breathing had gone shallow.

Lizzie was sitting up now, watching him carefully. “Give me your phone.”

He clenched his jaw. “No.”

“Lando.”

His fingers curled around the device. “Liz, this is—it’s disgusting.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t—” He cut himself off, because of course she did. Of course, she’d seen this before. Dealt with it before. Probably expected it.

“I already know exactly what you’re reading,” she said plainly. “I’ve seen worse.”

That was somehow worse.

“I just—I don’t get how people can be so fucking cruel,” he muttered, voice raw.

Lizzie sighed, reaching out to take his hand. “They don’t see me as a person,” she said simply. “They see me as an inconvenience.”

He swallowed hard. “I should say something.”

“You already did.”

“Not enough.”

Lizzie gave him a soft, tired smile. “I love you. But you can’t fight every battle, Lando.”

He exhaled slowly. “Watch me.”

“Lando.” Lizzie’s voice was sharp now. But not to him.

She was watching him with steady eyes, expression serious. “You don’t need to fight this battle.”

He knew that tone. She was digging in her heels, refusing to let him push himself to the edge.

“You’re wrong.”

She arched a brow.

He clenched his jaw. “This is bullshit, Liz. I can’t just—” He cut himself off, a strangled sound caught in his chest.

 “You said what mattered, Lando. The people who get it heard you.”

He swallowed hard, searching her face. “I just— I hate that you have to deal with this.”

“I know,” she said again, squeezing his hand. “But I also know that I have you. And that means more than anything some faceless idiot online could ever say.”

***

***

Lizzie had been expecting the backlash.

She had known what the internet would say after Silverstone. People had always found ways to turn her epilepsy into some kind of burden, like it was something Lando had to suffer through instead of something she had lived with her entire life.

But she hadn't expected this...this amount...

She had woken up before Lando, slipping out of the bed to go the bathroom, swiping her phone on the way...

She opened Twitter while brushing her teeth.

When she saw the hate, she wasn't surprised.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. The words were still there, every slur, every insult, every snide comment about Lando being too good for her.

There were even worse things. Comments about the seizures, like the internet hadn’t decided to try and diagnose her enough times already.

But then—then she saw the thread.

She should have stopped reading after the first tweet. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t just speculation or people overstepping—it was surgical. Precise, methodical, cruel. Someone had gone deep, pulling up information she hadn’t even known was online. Her mother’s name. Her stepfather’s Facebook. The names and birthdates of her half-siblings—kids she had never met, would likely never meet.

Her vision blurred as she stared at the attached screenshot. An old Facebook post. A woman who looked so much like the mother she barely remembered, but older. A man beside her, his arm around her waist. And a baby in her arms.

The caption read: Our little family is growing.

Lizzie felt like she had been punched in the gut.

Little family.

She scrolled down further, her stomach sinking as she found another post. Two kids. A boy and a girl. Tagged with the names of people she had never heard of.

Her mother hadn’t just left.

She had started over. Had more kids. Had a whole new family.

And never once—not once—had she reached out.

A shaky breath left Lizzie’s lips.

Her mother’s new family. The one she had built without her. The life she had constructed, brick by brick, while leaving Lizzie and her dad behind like they had been a mistake she needed to erase.

Lizzie felt something sink inside her, deep and heavy.

And then she got to the comments.

"Lando deserves someone healthy.""She’s just going to be a burden.""You really think he’s going to stay with her forever?""He’s young, rich, and famous. Why would he settle for this?"

Her hands were shaking. Not from anger—though she should have been angry—but from something colder. Something sharper.

Because this wasn’t just strangers talking. These were the voices she had spent years trying to silence in her own head. The ones that whispered late at night, when her body ached from the aftershocks of a seizure. When she woke up disoriented, Mara pressed against her side, grounding her, reminding her that she was still here.

The ones that said, What if they’re right?

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring at the screen, heart pounding in her chest.

Then—knock knock knock.

“Liz?”

Lando.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands were still trembling. She forced herself to inhale, exhale.

The knock came again, a little firmer. “Lizzie?” His voice was careful. Concerned. “Can you open the door?”

Her fingers barely worked as she reached out, unlocking it.

The second the door opened, Lando was there, his eyes scanning her face, taking in her pale complexion, the way she was gripping the counter like she might collapse. His brows furrowed. “What happened?”

Lizzie swallowed, throat tight. “I—” Her voice wavered.

Lando took a step closer, his concern deepening. “Liz, talk to me.”

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to say it. “My mum left when I was six.”

Lando stilled.

“She—” Lizzie laughed, but there was no humor in it. “She said she couldn’t handle it. That I was too much. My seizures, the hospital visits, all of it.” Her hands curled into fists. “So she left.”

Lando’s jaw clenched.

Lizzie’s breath shuddered out of her. “And now I find out she went and had more kids. That she had no problem being a mother, just not to me.” Her voice broke on the last word. “She replaced me.”

Silence.

Then—warm hands on her arms, grounding her.

“Liz.” Lando’s voice was quiet. Steady. “Look at me.”

She did.

His gaze was steady. Serious. “That is not on you.”

She tried to laugh, but it got caught in her throat. “It sure feels like it.”

His grip tightened—not too much, just enough. Just enough to keep her from floating away. “She made that choice. That has nothing to do with you.”

Lizzie shook her head, throat aching. “I—Lando, I just—I want to go home.”

His expression softened instantly. “Okay,” he said, no hesitation. “Let’s go home.”

Lando didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t push her to talk, didn’t press for more details. He just nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and said, Let’s go home.

Then he made it happen.

He was on the phone in seconds, making arrangements, calling his team, canceling whatever obligations he still had.

Lizzie sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring blankly at the floor, the phone still clutched in her hand. The thread was still open, her mother’s face frozen on the screen.

She couldn’t look at it anymore.

Her fingers trembled as she locked her phone and set it down.

Mara padded over, putting her head on her knee, staring at Lizzie with deep dark brown eyes. Lizzie swallowed. 

Her thoughts were spiraling, looping around the same things over and over again. She left because of me. She couldn’t handle me. But she could handle them.

A deep inhale. Exhale.

She heard Lando pacing near the window, voice low but firm as he spoke to someone on the phone. “No, we’re leaving right now. I don’t care what the schedule says.” A pause. “Then change it.” Another pause, and then, more clipped, “Figure it out.”

Lizzie glanced up.

His jaw was tight, his eyes dark with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair before finally sighing, rubbing at his temple. “No, I don’t need to be there. I need to be with my girlfriend. Just handle it.”

A beat.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He hung up, exhaling sharply.

His eyes met hers, and some of the tension left his face.  “We’ll be out of here in an hour,” he told her, voice softer now. 

Lizzie nodded. “Thank you.”

Lando crossed the room in a few strides, sitting down beside her on the bed. He didn’t say anything at first—just reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

His grip was warm, steady. Grounding.

Lizzie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Then, quietly, Lando asked, “Are you okay?”

Lizzie hesitated. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to act like she was fine, that this was just another stupid internet thing that she could brush off.

But this wasn’t just that.

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around hers.

Her voice was quieter when she added, “I think I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Lando nodded, like he understood. Maybe he didn’t fully, but he wanted to, and that was enough.

Lizzie exhaled. “I always thought maybe she’d had a hard time. That maybe she wanted to reach out but just… couldn’t.” A shaky breath. “But she could. She just didn’t.”

Lando’s jaw clenched again. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, gentle. “That’s on her,” he said, voice low but firm. “Not you.”

Lizzie let her head fall onto his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his cheek against her hair.

They stayed like that for a while.

Eventually, Lando murmured, “Let’s get out of here.”

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah.”

They left the hotel without looking back.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i asked for help from the ppl who i harassed for months?

ok so basically i (18f, at the time 16f) really like this group. but one day they just went on "indefinite hiatus" for no reason. and obviously i was really mad. so after a few months of trying to pick the right person to blame i decided it was entirely thr fault of this one asshole, who literally went and made his OWN GROUP like right after this hiatus was announced. the little turd clearly wanted out due to hating his members. and that's not even the worst part. he actually started gaining traction after this dumb little move. and after the turd made a collab with a pretty popular kpop group (and we all know how kpop stans are with their mass streaming) this loser was getting more attention than thr guy that I LIKE.

my guy was the most talented pretty and popular member of the group when it was active, and he could sell out dome tours with his solo work all the time. he just did that in fact. but now that this other bitch was using kpop stans for clout he was the one getting all the attention. and it rubbed off on his group he made and their trash music as well. but this isn't about him it's about me.

like i said i got really upset, and once i decided this was all turd boy's fault, i shamelessly harassed fans of this "person" and the dumb little group he made, mostly by way of spamming gore in their discord servers and wikis. this lasted for months until one of them eventually doxxed me back. i'll admit i shouldn't have done all of this. but i was just fighting against traitors in the industry.

but, it's been over a year since then. and i've moved on. until a few weeks ago. this third guy "came out" in a clear pr stunt. like with a whole press confrence and everything he didnt even try to hide it. and then he dropped a new song right after. somebody's jealous of the sold out dome tour!

but not everyone realises its a pr stunt. ppl are falling for it and streaming the new somg. and if the hype doesn't die down soon my guy will be in THIRD. i can't let that happen or else i'd be a failure but i have a plan.

hypothetically, i would slide back into the discord server, explain my dilemma, and maybe stans of the first turd would be willing to mass stream my guy's amazing new song and i guess i'll mass stream whatever crap their guy shat out recently. they're smart people, they doxxed my cats after all. i'm sure they'll understand.

but i fear that it would be kind of a dick move to act all buddy buddy with a server who i went crazy on and harassed for months on end. but on the other hand i can't let my idol be at only third most monthly listeners in his old group!! so i don't know what to do, wibta if i went through with this?

What are these acronyms?