#and when they did care they cared for the wrong reasons in the wrong way

[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[alotofpockets]

How strong you are | Jessie Fleming x Chelsea!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Your scars don’t make you weak, they show how strong you are."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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Your first day back in training after your injury. It felt like something big, especially because it was the first major injury you’ve had since the start of your career. Where your girlfriend had been excited for your return to the pitch, you were mainly feeling nervous.

The recovery had been a lot. Both mentally and physically it had been a struggle. Your girlfriend has been with you every step of the way. Without Jessie by your side, you don’t think you would have made it through. She had been your rock throughout the whole recovery journey.

She was downstairs, cleaning up after breakfast while you were getting changed into your training gear. Jessie hadn’t expected you to take so long, so she went up to check on you. She found you in your training top, but still in just your underwear for bottoms. A pair of training shorts and joggers laid in front of you on the bed.

Your eyes moved between them like you were trying to solve a puzzle. She sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for you to meet her eyes. When you finally did, she smiled your way. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I don’t know which to wear to training.” Jessie had a feeling of the underlying reason, but she knew it would be better if you talked about your feelings, so she asked you anyways. “Oh, yeah? Why is that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders you sat down on the bed with her. Your eyes settled on your knee, the fresh surgery scar staring back at you. Jessie knew then that her suspicion was right, still she wanted you to be the one to say it, so she stayed quiet and let you take your time. 

She reached for your hand, her fingers interlocking with yours, offering a quiet reassurance as you sifted through your thoughts. Her touch grounded you, like an anchor in a storm, reminding you that she'd be there to catch you if you fell.

Still the words, “Nevermind,” Came out of your mouth, “I’ll just wear the joggers.” You started getting up, but Jessie used your intertwined hands to keep you down. “Baby, you hate wearing joggers for training.”

You shrugged, “I am allowed to change my mind.” Jessie knew you had a point, of course you were allowed to change your mind, but she knew there was more to it than that. “You are allowed to change your mind every day of the week, and I will support you no matter what. But baby, you hate joggers with a passion. You wear shorts even in the middle of Canadian winter.”

Her comment made you chuckle, she was right of course. The tightness of joggers had always been the reason you hated to wear them. Even the cold bothered you less than training in joggers, and that says a lot when you know how cold it can get in Canada.

“I know, I do hate them and I will never change my mind on them. But my scar. Everyone will see it. Everyone will see that my body is weak, that I am weak. I’d rather be uncomfortable than weak.”

You had been wearing your shorts to your gym sessions over your recovery period, but that was just you and the trainer, plus occasionally Jessie who came to check in. The trainer was more than accustomed to injured players and their rehabilitation, so there you hadn’t really minded. This time it would be in front of the whole team, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

Even though Jessie had guessed that this was the underlying reason, it still hurt hearing you say it like that. Did you really think you were weak? She didn’t give herself much time to think about that though, she wanted to reassure you right away.

"Your scars don’t make you weak, they show how strong you are." She took your other hand in hers as well. “They show that despite something going wrong, you overcame it. You got back up, and took care of your body. That already makes you strong, and what makes you even stronger, is that you are not just recovering from an injury, you’re getting back from it.”

Jessie was so good with her words that you were tearing up a little. “Do you really think so?” She smiled and gave your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I know so. While you haven’t been on the pitch yet, I can tell from your sessions in the gym that you are going to come back stronger.”

You pulled Jessie in for a hug after that, thanking her for always being there for you. Together you stayed like that for a moment, before Jessie pulled away. “Alright, we have to leave in a bit. I’ll go put our stuff in the car. Go put on some bottoms you’re comfortable with today, and I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down. Thank you Jess, you’re the best.” You pecked her lips and watched her walk out of the room. Leaving you to choose which bottoms to wear by yourself.

You eyed the shorts and the joggers a final time, now less puzzled than before. Jessie had been right, you despised joggers, and you were proud of all of your teammates and friends you had seen come back from injuries, so why not you?

So, with a new sense of confidence you grabbed the shorts and put them on. You knew you’d still be thinking about what others thought, that wouldn’t just go away of course, but you knew that your scar wasn’t something you should be self conscious about.

Jessie smiled wide when she saw you walk into the living room. “That’s my girl.” She hugged you tight. “I am so proud of you. And I cannot wait to see you out on the pitch again, continuing to take care of your body, and working towards your full comeback.”

With her arm still around your shoulder, she walked you to the car. “You are going to do amazing today.” She said with a kiss to your cheek before you drove off to training.

-----

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[leeknow-thoughts]

𝅄  ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi bestie!! I have an idea for Seb. Your his best friend (almost brother like but not quite)

So y/n is over at his home in LA during a Christmas party and is wearing something that gets him turned on and he drags you away from the party and tells you how he loves you and you two fuck....hehe

Steamy Christmas Party » Sebastian Stan

Pairings: Best Friend!Sebastian Stan x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Sebastian can’t keep his eyes off of you when you wear a new dress to a Christmas party, which leads to yours and his own steamy festivities.

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (18+), best friends to lovers, sweet/dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, praise kink, Sebastian speaking Romanian, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @cevansbaby-dove ❤️💚

A/N #2: I used Google translate for the Romanian translations. My apologies if I got anything wrong.

Translations: Dragă: sweetheart |Te iubesu: I love you | Ești atât de frumoasă, prințesă: You’re so beautiful, princess

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

Divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Sebastian’s eyes were on you the second you walked in the door. You were wearing a red dress. It happened to be backless, which is part of the reason why his eyes were on you. He bit his bottom lip the more he looked at you. Not in a creepy way. In an admirable way. He couldn’t help but notice your dress was hugging your curves in the most perfect way.

His mind began to wander… he wanted to get you alone. He just needed to find an appropriate way to do it. He needs you all to himself.

You were talking to someone when you felt a pair of familiar eyes on you. You glanced over the person’s shoulder to see Sebastian looking at you. You gave him a smile before excusing yourself from the conversation to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. Like if it were on cue, Sebastian did the same.

Sebastian walked in the kitchen at the same time you were refilling your drink. He approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. You hummed softly, leaning into his warm touch.

“You know how to drive a man crazy, you know that?” Sebastian mutters softly.

“There’s more than one man here, Seb. Care to be specific?” You say innocently.

“You damn well know which man I’m exactly talking about, dragă.” He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You and Sebastian have been best friends for a few years. Yours and his has always been playful and sometimes flirty. Yours two are so close that people think you two are dating or hooking up. It’s been rumored many times. Truth be told, Sebastian is in love with you. Little does he know that you’re in love with him too.

“You wore this dress to get me going, didn’t you, dragă?” He says, lightly rubbing a finger down your back.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You teased seductively, pressing your ass against his bulge, making him groan softly.

Sebastian spun you around so you were facing him. His blue eyes are now clouded with lust. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Wanna go to my room?” Sebastian asks in a whisper.

“Everyone will see us.” You say shyly.

“They already think we’re fucking. We might as well make that rumor true.” He says with a smirk.

You bit your bottom lip at the thought.

“Take me.” You whispered seductively.

Sebastian grabs your hand and lead you to his bedroom. Surprisingly, no one noticed you two go to his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Sebastian pinned you against it, kissing you heatedly. You moaned against his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He breathes.

“Me too.” You say.

Sebastian moved the straps of your dress off of your shoulders as he kissed your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You could feel his beard scratching against your skin. It’s a feeling you love very much. You moaned softly.

Sebastian took your dress off, exposing your breasts to him. He groans softly when he seen the panties you’re wearing. Red lace. It made him want you even more.

“You really do know how to drive a man crazy.” Sebastian says.

You giggled softly and bit your bottom lip. You stared up at him as you took off your heels. You then began to unbutton his shirt. You rubbed your hands against his chest to his shoulders, pushing his button up shirt off of him, letting it fall to the floor.

Sebastian picked you up and carried you to his bed, laying you down gently. He took his pants off before getting on top of you, hovering over you. He leaned down and kissed you with hunger. He then moved his lips down to your neck and collarbones, kissing your skin softly.

“I love you.” Sebastian murmurs softly.

“Say it to me in Romanian.” You said, running your fingers through his hair.

“Te iubesc.” He repeats in Romanian.

“Te iubesc.” You whispered.

You two weren’t sure if it was the heat of the moment or if that’s how each other feels.

Sebastian rubbed his hands against your sides and down to the waistband of your panties. He rubbed his thumbs along the lace material for a moment before looking at you for permission. You gave him permission by lifting your hips. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and took them off of you and threw them somewhere in his room.

He spread your legs, softly caressing your thighs. One of his hands move towards your pussy. His fingers felt how wet you are for him before blindly feeling for your clit. He found it with ease and began rubbing it. You bucked your hips against his hand, wanting more.

“Fuck me please!” You begged desperately, whining softly.

Sebastian kissed you softly before taking his boxers off and settling himself between your legs. You sat up on your elbows, biting your bottom lip at the sight of his cock.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You playfully teased.

Sebastian softly chuckles at your little playful comment. He lined his cock at your pussy, rubbing it in your slick to get it wet before lining it at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock in your pussy. Your mouth fell open and a soft moan left your lips as you watched his cock slide in your pussy.

Sebastian, being the gentleman he is, gave you a moment to adjust to his size. You laid your back against the bed and nodded. He started a slowly and loving pace just to get a feel of it for a moment before speeding up his thrusts.

“Oh my god!” You moaned.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back. Your hands held onto his strong shoulders, your nails digging in his skin. One of Sebastian’s hands held onto your waist while the other one found its way to your breasts. He held onto one of them for a few seconds before rubbing his thumb over your nipple.

“This feels amazing!” You moaned.

“Yea.” Sebastian agrees, nodding his head.

Your moans I’d like music to Sebastian’s ears. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. Your nails left red line scratch marks on his shoulders. Sebastian rubbed his hands against your skin, loving how soft it is.

“Ești atât de frumoasă, prințesă.” Sebastian says softly.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“I called you beautiful, princess.” He says in English.

You know some Romanian from Sebastian teaching you, but you didn’t know what that meant until he told you. You were only focused on one thing at the moment and that’s Sebastian. You’re the only thing he’s focused on as well.

“We should’ve done this sooner!” You moaned.

“I know right.” He agrees.

You arched your back in pleasure. Your beasts were closer to him that he could mark them up and kiss them, which he did. Your hands found their way to his back, digging your nails in his skin.

“Fuck…” Sebastian moans against your skin. “I love you, dragă.” He softly says again.

“I love you too, Seb.” You murmured softly.

You tilted your head back and your eyes fluttered shut. You felt Sebastian’s hand on the back of your head, gently moving your head back up so you were looking at him.

“Eyes on me, dragă.” He said.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. Your eyes never left his for a second. Only when his cock hit that one spot inside of you, making your eyes flutter shut for a second.

“Oh yes!” You moaned. “Right there!” You tell him. “Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

Your moans urged him on. He sped up his thrusts more. Your nails left red line scratch marks on his back.

“You feel so good.” He moans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, nipping on his skin to mark him up. One of Sebastian’s hands moved down to your clit, rubbing it in circles. Your hip jolted against his at the feeling.

“Oh god, yes, Seb!” You moaned.

Sebastian smirks to himself, loving the sound of you moaning his name. He rubbed your clit faster, wanting to hear you moan his name over and over again.

“Moan my name again. I want to hear it.” Sebastian says.

“You’re making me feel so good, Sebastian!” You moaned.

Sebastian kissed you after you said that, needing his lips on yours. The kiss was a mix of hunger and passion with a bit of sloppiness. One of your hands moved to the back of his head, carding your fingers through his soft hair as you two made out.

Your orgasm built up the more he rubbed your clit as he fucked you. His orgasm was building up as well. Like the gentleman Sebastian is, wanted you to cum first, focusing on your pleasure.

“I can feel you getting close. You gonna cum?” Sebastian says against your lips.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned, tilting your head back.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, dragă.” He says.

It didn’t take long after he said that for you to fall over the edge. Your legs trembled a little bit as you came. Sebastian gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm, which wasn’t too far behind yours. He came inside of you after a few more thrusts before slowing down the pace of his thrusts and pulled out of you.

Sebastian laid down next to you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. You two laid there panting and staring up at the ceiling with grins on your faces.

“That was fucking amazing.” You said after a moment.

“Yea.” Sebastian agrees.

That’s when you got to thinking. You realized that you and Sebastian said “I love you” to each other. You still weren’t sure if it was the heat of the moment or if that’s how you two actually feel about each other.

“Seb?” You turned your head towards him.

“Hmm?” Sebastian hums, turning his head toward you as well.

“What you said earlier…” You maneuvered yourself so you were laying on your side and your head was propped up against your hand. “When you told me you love me, did you mean it or was it the heat of the moment?” You asked.

“I mean it.” He answers. “I’ve been in love with you for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you.” He tells you. “Did you mean it?” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered softly.

Sebastian smiles at you and leaned up, kissing you softly and passionately. You smiled against his lips, caressing his bearded cheek. You two leaned your foreheads against each other’s, gazing in each other’s eyes.

“You do know we have to go back out to the party, right?” You say.

“I know.” He says.

“Everyone is gonna know we left the party to fuck.” You said.

“They’ll also know we’ll be a couple when we go back out there.” He says.

“True.” You say, kissing him.

“I love you, dragă.” He murmurs softly with a smile.

“I love you too, Sebby.” You almost whispered, smiling back at him.

-Bucky’s Doll

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Mess

Now, Sinmas was just... Something.

Alright, now for some reason Blitz and the others hesitate to kill their target? So all of the sudden because it's gay it's an issue, when they did the exact same job in the first episode with no qualms? This show is so obnoxious.

I also hate how spoiled Stolas is, because it's not really funny. I think if I didn't hate him so much, i'd actually find some of his antics humorous, but... uh, nope. I just hate his guts. I hate how he's just some woobie at this point. The narrative is acting like he's done all these things to earn all the sympathy in the world, but he hasn't. Am I supposed to like him because of Mastermind? Well, that's not happening.

Millie being pregnant is fine, I don't care. At all. Which is just more proof of how little character she has to the point that I was just meh to the reveal. Now, the reaction to this development is more interesting than the actual plot point - Why in the name of god do people think it's SALLIE'S??? It makes my brain melt out of my ears just thinking about it.

Loona's hellhound form is just a wolf with a furry face and I hate it. She should've looked actually cool, but that's more of a subjective opinion rather than an actual criticism.

Now, the main point I want to rant about: Stella and Octavia.

First off. The way Octavia is treated as some sort of villain or in the wrong for cutting Stolas out of her life after he repeatedly hurt and chose Blitzo after her, her after the many chances she gave him to do better is just terrible. She's completely within her rights to cut him out, speaking from someone with similar experience with cutting out terrible family. Stolas is in the wrong, no matter how much the narrative tries to say otherwise or tries to act like he's taking responsibility. Her rant at Stolas is one hundred percent correct, she was absolutely in the right, Stolas is a selfish asshole and he chose Blitzo over her. She doesn't need to listen to him, she doesn't owe him anything. And I know the narrative is going to make her 'come around' like Blitzo said, but I really wish she wouldn't.

Second. Stella, sweet, poor Stella god why have they done this to you? She's so one dimensional and has no relationship with Octavia. Are Viv and the crew just allergic to Stella having any potential redeeming qualities? I think if she genuinely cared about Octavia and was irritated by Andrealphus taking her divorce and using it to further his agenda, then that would instantly give her the tiniest bit of depth. But we can't have good things in the Hellaverse.

In my rewrite, Stella's scorned and just wants to take her daughter and be happy and hates Stolas and her brother in equal measure. Enjoy a drawing I did of my rewrite versions.

[sports-on-sundays]

this simple feeling / LN4 & OP81 / Part 3

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Link to part 1, link to part 2

Warnings: I think I might've messed up the timeline just alittle bit but that's okayyyy (probably should have all taken place like a week or two later but I only realized that after it was all written so I guess you'll just have to deal with it; I'm sincerely sorry), language, sickness, vertigo, let me know if there's more I missed

Requested?: To be honest, I don't think so, but let me know if I forgot about you.👍

A handsome smile adorns Lando Norris's lips as he strolls down the Spanish paddock, and it's extraordinary to believe that despite his outside cover, he has the most pounding headache.

It's all my fucking fault, his mind roars as he catches the eye of Max Verstappen walking past and gives him a friendly wave. Y/n is a nervous wreck over the whole situation, and Oscar seems like he's going to blow if he sees me show Y/n affection one more time.

Why did I ever fucking start this stupid, stupid 'relationship?' It's a mess, and it's all my fault.

And I've got no way of fixing it.

Maybe I should have just given up Y/n in the first place, before all this happened.

Maybe I am wrong for getting in the way of her and Oscar.

But a part of him knows that's not right. He could never give you up. You could never give him up. And neither of you could ever give up on Oscar.

Even though it's starting to look like that might just be the best for him. Or at least, the best option at this point.

After I've gone and messed it all up.

For once in his life, sleep won't just take Oscar Piastri.

It sounds stupid, because he shouldn't be going to sleep. Not here. Not now. But as he lay in his driver's room, all he wishes is for sleep to take him away from his never-ending thoughts into a peaceful, sweet, dreamless slumber.

But every time he tries to replace his current ones with new ones, his brain always leads him back to the main point:

You messed up.

He sighs. He's just being over dramatic, isn't he? Isn't that all it is? Shouldn't he just get over himself?

It's not that he doesn't like Lando. In fact, he does. A... well, a lot. He could see himself having real affection towards him.

He might even want to.

But that longing, confused part in his brain keeps coming back to: But what if Y/n loves him more? Isn't he just getting in the way of what you always wanted?

Isn't this unfair, Oscar?

But that's just the worst part of it all.

It's not unfair. Not one bit.

For your whole life, Oscar has known you. For years, he's cared about you. He's even loved you. He just never said it. Always held back. When he shouldn't have.

If he had just acted way before, in the beginning, it would've been just you and him. That's the way it would have been, and Lando would have never gotten in the way.

But, Oscar's brain whispers, almost like a sneaking suspicion, do you really want Lando out of this, now that he's in it?

Maybe I just have to learn to accept it. Accept him. Trust them both.

Do I just need to get over myself?

Because I am the only reason why this isn't working...

Right?

No one else can feel it, but it's getting awkward. Not even so much in private. In private, Lando is honest, and Oscar tries. In private, you see. They're not all lovey dovey, but they care about each other. It's like all is well, though you and Lando both know how Oscar can get.

But in public, it's worse. Terribly worse. It's like Lando and Oscar want to have something, but they can't. It's like Lando wants it but Oscar won't let him... and, at the same time, as if Oscar wants it but Oscar also won't let himself.

Why not?

In public, since they have to fake, it's like it's hard not to. Because they're closer than friends, but not more than that.

In private, they're trying to fake, so it almost comes easier.

But in public, they almost avoid each other at the same time as being super friendly with each other when they do have to talk.

You hate it.

A huge part of you wonders: If Oscar likes Lando back, why doesn't he just relax and let this whole thing work? Doesn't he need it?

Doesn't he need Lando, just the same way I need him?

He certainly acts like it. Sometimes. The only solution you can think of, though a not very clear or perhaps not very accurate one, and one with certainly no answer, is this:

He wants you more than anything. But he needs Lando more than anything.

But because he wants you so bad, it hurts him to see Lando having you.

Though he has you, too.

But he can't let himself break out and let himself love Lando back, because his feelings towards you are so incredibly strong.

You sigh.

Oscar. Why can't you just give up? Give in? Why can't I show you just how much I adore you?

What do I have to do to show you?

Is there anything I can do that would be enough?

You sigh. What if you're all wrong? What if Oscar really can't love Lando back? What if this whole thing is bound to fail?

What if there's absolutely no solution?

As anxiety begins to fill your chest, you feel as though you're right back at square one again.

Why didn't I just choose, from the beginning? Wouldn't it have been better to break one of their hearts, than all three of our hearts?

Because isn't that what is going on right now?

We're all breaking.

And we wouldn't be if I hadn't ever, ever let it get this fair.

Damn it.

It really is all my fault.

Maybe it's all the stress, or maybe it's just the natural way of things, but either way, by the time a week later that the Austrian Grand Prix comes around, you are in no world feeling well enough to go to it.

Of course, that's fine. You're sick; no one will have a problem with you staying home to rest up and get better. There are plenty of other people who can take care of your usual responsibilities for one race weekend. That's not really a big deal at all.

Of course, Lando and Oscar sure treated the whole thing as one, both of them talking about how one of them should stay with you, and how are you going to get on by yourself, and they feel like such bad boyfriends for leaving you in your unwell state, and so on. Blah, blah, blah.

Really, it was the sweetest thing. You know you shouldn't complain. But you did end up telling the two they were both wrong, not to worry, go race, and it's quite easy to FaceTime and stay in touch so they can check up on you over the weekend.

So despite whatever your boyfriends think about it, that's the decision you made sure was made, because there was no way you'd let either of them do something so ridiculous as to miss a race because of you.

Especially not the Austrian Grand Prix, for God's sake.

Well, whether Lando and Oscar would admit it or not, both of them, in their own little ways, see this as an opportunity for connection with each other.

One-on-one.

So now, of course, Lando has been the sole thing, other than racing, that's been on Oscar's mind all weekend. So much so that he finds himself wandering towards Lando's driver's room after qualifying, his heart leading the way more so rather than his head.

When he reaches the door, he finds it ajar, and peeks in through the door frame, his heart pounding.

Why is his heart pounding?

He swallows, his eyes resting on Lando relaxing, scrolling his phone. He hasn't seen Oscar yet.

Lando. There's a lot I like about him.

Let's just try this. Just for now, forget about Y/n. Think about Lando. Think about all the reasons why you care about him. Think about it as if it were just you and him.

Would you want it to work?

He knows the answer, but wouldn't dare let himself consciously think it.

Oscar gently knocks on the door, as to avoid startling Lando, before saying softly, "Hey, Lando?"

The British man immediately looks up, his hazel eyes meeting Oscar's plain old brown ones. Though he doesn't smile, his eyes soften. And brighten. "Hey, Oscar." He sits up a bit, as to make more room on the sofa. "Wanna come in?"

Oscar nods, stepping inside. Gently closes the door behind himself. Somehow, Lando seems to understand.

He sits down. Closer to him. Turns and looks him right in the eyes. Opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it when he realizes he has nothing to say.

Lando talks instead. "How are you?"

"Fine... and you?"

"Good... I think the race should be promising."

Oscar nods in agreement. The silence feels so simply empty.

"You missing Y/n? Is that what it is?" Lando gently asks.

Oscar considers that for a few seconds, before slowly shaking his head 'no.' "Of course, I wouldn't mind her being here. But that's not it."

"What's 'it,' then?" Lando asks.

Somehow, he just knows, doesn't he?

Oscar's starting to see why you might love that about him so much.

"It's not Y/n I'm missing. I guess I'm missing you. And me. I'm missing us."

"Hm," Lando says simply, seeming to ponder that for a few seconds, before saying softly, almost as a dare, "How could you miss 'us,' if 'us' was never a thing?"

Oscar feels the sudden urge to reach out towards Lando. Put his hand on his, or fix that loose curl, or do something.

But he holds back. Like he's always done with you.

God damn it. Am I really doing it again?

What am I even doing?

"I guess..." Oscar murmurs after some hesitation, staring down towards the tiled floor, "I miss the 'us' that could be and should be but never has been."

Oscar feels Lando look up towards him, but continues staring at the floor.

"Look at me."

But Oscar doesn't dare.

That's when Lando gently moves his hand to grab Oscar's chin and force his head to look at him. Not in an overly gentle way, but not in a way that hurts.

Oscar sighs. Those eyes.

When did he start liking them so much?

"We can make that reality," Lando murmurs, in the same determined way he talks about sports, or strategies. "We can make it happen. You don't have to miss me, or Y/n, and we can make 'us' come true."

Oscar gulps. Nods, though he knows not why.

Maybe it's because I really do want it.

I do, don't I?

Us.

Lando reaches over and grabs Oscar's hand strongly. Wraps his hand around the other man's. "This simple feeling..." Lando whispers. "Don't you like it?"

Oscar swallows. "I don't know if I like it, but..."

Lando waits for him to finish, even after he's trailed off.

"...but I think I know that it's exactly what... what I need."

Lando sighs. A little smile even begins to sneak up on his lips, just gently. Softly. Hardly there.

That's when he leans in and pulls him into a hug. And embrace. And it's refuge that Oscar finds there, in his arms. The same kind of irreplaceable refuge he finds in your arms. He sighs, wrapping his arms back around Lando, feeling the warmth of his body around him like a blanket.

"This simple feeling," Oscar murmurs this time, mirroring Lando's words, swallowing, his voice cracking softly, though tears don't threaten to fall.

It's just a little raw.

"This simple feeling... it's exactly what I want. What I need. From both of you.

"It's like I'd be content if we let this last forever," Oscar finishes softly with, close to Lando's ear.

"We can make it last forever," Lando utters back.

And all time stops in that little room as the two men embrace. A cavern of honesty and truth.

A safe place that promises to hold them forever.

It's funny how someone's cares and concerns can be washed away so quickly.

Like, for example, Oscar's podium at the Austrian Grand Prix in 2024, seeing his team grin up at him, spraying the champagne with George and Carlos, the joy of getting second place.

Partially, also, the joy of being the one to score points for the team.

But once that's all done and he's talking and doing all that PR, it starts nagging at him. You're not here, which means Lando's all alone.

Probably fucking pissed off.

P20.

So it's a mix. He got 2nd! But Lando got 20th.

So he tries to get through all the PR gobbly-gook as fast as possible, while still putting on a good face, since he knows you'll particularly care a lot if he screws up all his interviews the one race you weren't able to make it.

As soon as he's set free from his duties, though, he rushes to Lando's driver's room. On the way, someone even grabs his arm, saying, "Oscar! Oscar! An autograph? Please?" but he brushes them off, saying, "If you stay around, I'll be back to give it to you!" before just running off again.

He honestly can't grasp why he's so particularly and intensely desperate to see Lando.

It's because he did something for me last night when I needed him. Now I can't just leave him when he needs me most.

Soon, he reaches the latched closed door and knocks hard, saying, "Lando? Are you in there?"

There's a few moments of silence, and for a moment Oscar's nerves tell him that Lando isn't even here, and that he ignored that fan for no reason at all, until those thoughts are interrupted with Lando responding with a heavy sigh in his voice, "Osc? You can come in."

Oscar sighs with a certain amount of relief before gently opening the door and letting it shut behind him.

Lando is standing, not facing Oscar, on his phone, texting. Head down.

"How're you-"

"Texting Y/n."

Oscar nods, slowly walking up behind him. He gently rests a hand on Lando's shoulder, and says softer, "What's she saying?"

"Everything she has to in order to try and make me feel less like shit."

"Is it working?"

Lando turns, looking over his shoulder back at Oscar with a wry smile, saying, "Not at all. Max is a fucking-"

"Cheater, aggressive driver, idiot, bad sportsman. I know that's everything you're going to say. You just need to blow off some steam, hm?"

Lando snorts, shutting off his phone, hanging his head. "I've had an hour and a half to do that since the race."

"It takes a while," Oscar says simply, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Lando sighs, nodding. "I know... I guess I'm not even really that mad anymore. Just disappointed. And frustrated."

Oscar nods, glancing away, beginning to slip his hand off Lando's shoulder.

But Lando reaches back, slipping his hand over Oscar's to keep it there, dragging his other hand over his face with a heavy sigh

It's then that Oscar suddenly feels compelled to do something he never thought he would.

Yet he gives in, simply because it feels like exactly the right thing to do in the moment. So he wraps both arms around Lando from behind, pulling him towards himself, letting his nose and lips press against his neck, next to Lando's ear.

Lando sighs in something like contentment.

And Oscar feels himself smiling softly, before it quickly fades off, and he whispers gently in Lando's neck, "You're a good driver. You would've won that race. But I also know that means you'll be able to win the next one, hm?"

Lando nods, sighing. "You're right. I know you're right."

Oscar nods, murmuring, "But you have every right to be upset. And I'll be with you during that working through it as long as you want me to be."

Lando feels an unexpected smile begin to creep up on his face as he mutters, "I want you here with me every single moment you want to be here, Oscar."

"Yeah? It's funny how I've started to like to be with you more."

"I guess that's just my natural charm, hm?" Lando says softly, his smile growing.

Oscar can almost not believe how he naturally chuckles at that and responds softly, "I don't know about that..."

Lando is full on grinning now. That handsome, big, sunny smile of his. "Just ask Y/n about it. She'll tell you all about my charm."

"Hah," Oscar says sarcastically, but for some reason, instead of coldness, like that comment might used to have filled his chest with, he feels an undeniable, affectionate warmth fill his body.

A feeling that he seems to like a lot more.

He just re-wraps his arms around Lando and responds softly, "I'm sure Y/n would tell you all about my charm, too, Lando."

Lando smirks, glancing back at Oscar, meeting the Australian's milk chocolate eyes. "But you don't have to ask Y/n to hear about how charming you are, Oscar. I could talk about that all night." Lando's honestly not sure where all this bravery on his part is coming from, but he's honestly glad for it. Since it seems to be going down well.

Oscar's eyebrows raise as his light complexion becomes slightly flushed. "Hm. You could?"

"Oh yeah," Lando laughs a bit. A beautiful sound. Then the two remain in that peaceful silence, before Oscar lets his hands slip away from Lando gently.

Lando turns, taking the younger man's hand in his, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Hey. Congratulations on your P2, by the way. I was so caught up in my own shit, I completely forgot about your-"

"Don't worry," Oscar says, waving it off. "I don't mind. But thank you, anyway."

Lando grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and saying simply, "No, thank you, Oscar. Look at the way you've managed to cheer me up like that, huh?"

Oscar smiles at that, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, perhaps in something like peace, or trust, for him to murmur, "Not sure how that happened..."

"Guess it's just that charm of yours we previously discussed, huh?"

And Oscar's eyes flutter open just in time to see Lando peck his lips.

And with Oscar's face fire hydrant red and Lando laughs filling the small room, I'll leave it up to the reader to go and imagine what could've happened next.

Oscar and Lando get out of the car, Lando holding some flowers and Oscar a grocery bag of goodies.

"You ready?" Lando says with a little smile, nodding to Oscar.

"Can't wait to see her, despite the poor state she must be in," Oscar says with a nod, and is about to start walking, when he suddenly stops and, with only a moment of hesitation beforehand, holds his hand out to Lando to take.

Lando looks at the hand, before looking up at Oscar again, taking his hand, with a little grin. He gives him a nod, before the two head off towards the house, hand-in-hand.

You're awakened in your feverish state by the ringing of the doorbell. You know you should get up and at least look to see who it is, but at the same time, who could it be? You're not expecting anyone. So you opt for the easier decision to just assume it's something unimportant like the mailman or something and leave it, letting yourself drift back into your feverish half-sleep.

But just as you're about to fully drift back off into slumber, it rings again. You sigh and stand up with an ornery groan, dragging your shaky legs to the window, to peek out of it, to see what on earth is so important.

But you stop as soon as you see them.

Your boys.

Lando holding flowers.

And what's more, they're holding each other's hands.

And they both look completely comfortable with it.

Really? Even Oscar?

He's not that good of an actor!

Soft smiles adorn both their handsome, perfect faces, shining like a charming prince and a shining knight.

Your foggy brain doesn't take the time to consider which is the prince and which is the knight, and you instead rush to the door right away, unlocking it and exclaiming, "Lan! Osc!" You stumble a bit dizzily as your weakened legs threaten to give out, but Lando's arm is there to steady you right away, keeping you from falling.

"Hey, Y/n," Oscar says gently, putting his arm on yours as Lando plants a quick kiss on your forehead, asking, "You okay?"

You sigh, nodding, and saying after the wave of vertigo subsides, "Just still a bit sick."

"No kidding. My God. Let's get you back inside and in your bed," Lando says gently, letting you use his arm to steady yourself as the three of you head inside and to your bedroom.

Once you're there and crawling back into bed, Lando hands Oscar the flowers and says, reaching in the shopping bag, "Got you some chicken noodle soup, Y/n. Want me to make you some?"

"Oh, God," you murmur, sinking back down against the pillow, "Yes, Lando, that'd be great."

He nods and leaves, going off to do that, leaving you with Oscar.

The first thing Oscar does is say, taking the blanket from the bottom of the bed, "Want this on?"

You nod, sniffing up your stuffed up nose. He gently tucks you in, kisses your forehead right where Lando kissed it, and grabs a tissue for you, seemingly out of thin air.

If you weren't a bit feverish, maybe you would of just known he got it out of the shopping bag. But you kind of missed that detail.

"We got you flowers," Oscar says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to you.

You smile softly, leaning up to smell the bouquet, saying weakly, "Aw... that's so lovely... You guys didn't have to."

He smiles softly. "We wanted to treat you. To show you how much we missed you this weekend." He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, before frowning and murmuring, "You're really warm. Hey, I'll be right back, m'kay?"

You're not sure how long it takes, but in a bit, Oscar comes back to place a cool cloth on your forehead, and puts the flowers, now in a vase, next to you, on your nightstand.

"They're so pretty," you murmur softly, gratefulness to you warm in your voice.

Oscar smiles. "Pretty flowers for a pretty girl."

You smile softly, reaching to take his hand. "I like you like this."

"Like what?" his eyebrows raise.

"All soft. I like that."

He smiles. "Just taking care of you." He leans down and kisses your cheek, saying, "Can I get you anything? A drink? Water, tea?"

"Oh... I think I'm good. But thank you," you weakly smile.

He nods. "Are you comfortable? Do you want a fan, or another blanket, or anything?"

You shrug. "I dunno... Maybe a fan would be nice. There's a big one in the closet. Jus' put it on low."

He nods and immediately heads to do that. Once he's done, he goes straight to the windows, saying, "And the blinds? Are they good the way they are, or should I-"

"Oscar, Oscar," you say softly, giving a lazy wave of your hand. "None of that matter. Not really. I don't really care. Why don't you just stop worrying and running around and taking care of me and doing everything for just a moment and just come and be with me, huh? That's what I want for you to do the most. Just come be with me. Let's just talk, hm?"

Oscar blinks. "Oh. Of course." He nods, making his way across the room. As he settles down on the bed next to you, he says simply, "Sorry."

"Don't worry. I like it. You just need to give yourself a break, too. And I want to talk with you, Osc." You slip your hand in his.

He nods, and after a few seconds murmurs, "Maybe that's just what I want, too."

"See?" you smile softly up at him.

You sit together in silence for a bit, him gently rubbing your hand in his, before you finally think to ask, "So... How... How are things with you and Lando?"

"You noticed a change, didn't you, huh?"

"For the better. Unless I'm imagining. Or you suddenly became an amazing actor in one week."

He smiles, nodding. "Lando, he... I think we worked it out. I worked it out."

"Worked what out?"

"That I love you, and I might just love Lando, and that in order to love one, I've got to love the other."

You stare. "You... You and Lando?"

Oscar nods. "We talked. I think I can make this work now. Let this work. We can let this work."

You smile. "Hm. Really?" you look at him with fluttery eyes.

He shrugs, smiling softly. "I can't just care about myself. That's not what a relationship is about. Nor can I just care about you. Nor can I just care about Lando. It needs to be selfless, you know? We need to be there for each other."

You grin and murmur, "For some reason, Osc, I really wanna kiss you right now, but I'm sick. It's like you've just said what I've been dreaming for you to say for weeks now. Probably months."

He smiles, nodding. "I guess it was bound to happen. I just had some things to work through. And even though I don't even know how, and don't think he does, either, Lando helped me work through them, partially, too... Oh, and by the way, with the kiss thing?" he smiles, leaning down a bit closer, before murmuring, "I'm sure you won't get me sick. You're probably way past being contagious." And with that, he closes his eyes and leans in to kiss you gently.

It's then that Lando walks in and says with that cheeky smile of his, "Hey, lovebirds, can I get in on this? When's it my turn?"

You pull away from Oscar and tease, "Oh, get back in the kitchen!"

"Jeez! I guess I'll just eat your soup, then, if you're going to be like that!"

"Wait! No!" you say, reaching your arms out for the tray in his arms.

He chuckles, placing it in your lap, and says, slipping on the bed next to you, on the opposite as Oscar, "Did you really think I would eat your food?"

"You might..."

He grins. "I might."

"Hey!" you giggle, rolling your eyes.

Lando lays down next to you as Oscar says, "My goodness, Y/n, you're so peppy as soon as Lando enters the room. You were acting so sick before, just a few minutes ago!"

You grin, looking him over with a shrug, "I guess I liked the way you were treating me so softly and delicately. I didn't want you to stop feeling like you had to take care of me. Now, come on. You lay down next to me, too, won't you?"

Oscar smiles and does so, murmuring, "I guess I can't say no, huh?"

You smile, contented, shutting your eyes as you feel the warmth from both of them, on each of your sides, envelop you. "I guess not."

As you eat your soup, your boys snuggle up to you, their arms wrapping around you, and the three of you talk. Mostly about Austria, and then about he upcoming British Grand Prix in less than a week now, which you're sure you'll be healed up enough for, especially since getting there doesn't require any planes or airports. Sometimes, that can be the worst part of travelling to Grand Prixs far away.

Soon, though, you finish your soup, and sink back down into the pillows, letting the tiredness seize your body once more. As you begin to drift off, the last thing you whisper is, "I love you guys..."

On each side, you feel each of their lips gently kiss your cheeks, but you don't stay awake long enough to hear how they respond to that.

Here you are, with your two McLaren boys.

Sure, there'll be rough spots. Lots of them. Something like this doesn't promise to be easy.

But sometimes, the harder path is the better one in the end.

And right now, in this simple moment, it feels perfectly worth it.

Well, maybe perfectly imperfect.

But would you really want it any other way?

This simple feeling...

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

Such amazing work the lot of you are doing. I'm both impressed and very, very grateful. <3

I'm looking for fics exploring what could happen next in the story. The fic Factory Settings absolutely blew me away. It's so faithful to both style and canon (well, almost), the characters really seem like themselves, and it's heavily plot driven while at the same time keeping their relationship at the centre.

Do you have any recommendations for fics like Factory Settings, that explore a possible season 3 storyline for me to indulge in until we get the real s3?

Hello! We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out for loads of recs. Here are more to add...

When a Ripple Becomes a Tidal Wave, the Reason is to Blame by DiscombobulatedBard (T)

Six months after Aziraphale leaves Crowley for Heaven, he finds a way to secretly speak with him. The supreme Archangel has changed his mind; heaven and hell cannot be fixed, cannot be changed. Instead they must be rendered obsolete. There’s only one weapon in the cosmos with the power to destroy the Book of Life and the power it holds over all supernatural beings: the flaming sword of Eden. But Aziraphale’s sword has been… relocated. In order to find it, Crowley must journey to the darkest layers of Hell where horrors and temptations alike await him. He will get home. He will return to Aziraphale no matter what it takes… right?

the right thing to guide us by NotAWriter6 (G)

Aziraphale returns to Earth after several years to enlist Crowley's help to undo Heaven and Hell. Crowley, who is holding on to a lot of anger, reluctantly agrees to aid him one last time.

But You Are An Ocean by megzseattle (T)

After Aziraphale's defection, Crowley tries to figure out how to live life for himself.

Grand Theft Angel by doraminatook (E)

“Here’s the thing, Muriel," Crowley barked, "Do you know how many times over the past however-many eons, I have dropped everything that I was doing - even if it was more important or far more interesting - so that I could go save Aziraphale? Do you know how many times I went out of my way to help him? And what did he do? He just left. Because he got a better offer. Why should I risk my neck and help him out when he clearly wouldn’t do the same for me!?" “Because you love him.” Muriel said it so nonchalantly, as if it was so obvious…because it was. : Deep in the vaults of Heaven is the Penal Institution for Ungodly Behavior (AKA Heaven's prison system). Following Aziraphale's attempts to undermine The Second Coming, he has been stripped of the Supreme Archangel title and left to rot there for all eternity. That is unless Crowley and Muriel's plan to rescue him succeeds. It's a dangerous plan (bordering on idiotic, complete with a mysterious package, a science experiment gone wrong, and a little demonic possession), but if it means bringing his angel home, then Crowley is willing to burn all of Heaven to ashes.

Good Omens - Corner Office with a View (Broke My Wings so You Could Fly) by Noli_Timere031754 (M)

A year after season two, Aziraphale is trapped in Heaven. He sees Crowley living on Earth, all alone and in trouble. With help, he manages to act accordingly. Crowley’s heartbreak leads to him to being a damsel in distress. Excerpt: Aziraphale recalled what he’d seen out his office window. With it’s close and clear view of London, Earth. He hadn’t meant to zoom in, where he did. The scene had appeared against his will. A certain demon. All alone and buying several cases of the worst scotch he’d ever tasted. Oodles of it. Something he drank when he didn’t care about quality, only getting drunk as fast as possible. Crowley looked bad. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever seen him with a hair out of place, and certainly never in dirty clothes and flip flops. But there he was. The only familiar part of his attire had been his sunglasses.

Three Is Not Enough by haleinedelail (T)

Ten months after the Metatron blew up their lives at the end of season 2, Heaven has placed a temptation in Crowley’s path. It's a trap, of course, and Crowley knows it, but not the kind of trap that he thinks. And, bless him, he can't resist walking straight into it. Literally physically injured, Crowley must jump headlong into saving... something. But he'll have to make a terrible choice. The story has a healthy dollop of Crowley working through his (ahem) personal demons, and grief. It has some romance, but also some harsh truths for Aziraphale, several jaunts back in time (though, not too far back!), and some exposed fuckery on the part of Heaven (the good guys, right?). I promise a happy ending, but it might be a rough road getting there... but would we have it any other way?

- Mod D

[magnoliasandarson]

on the rocks

Jason Todd drinks. This surprises people. Dick, for one, had a particularly comical reaction to watching his baby brother grab a beer after patrol. It had been over the top, a dramatic gasp, a demand to see some valid ID- the works. Jason told him to fuck off and plopped down on the couch. Dick had stayed standing for a moment, searching for some sort of crisis in his baby brother, before joining him with his own bottle.

Jason Todd goes to bars. This, too, surprises people. All of the Bats know, for some reason Jason can't confront, about Willis Todd. They all know to look for the smallest twitch- the faintest microexpression to give away that Jason is in some sort of post-traumatic panic. Every loud, drunk idiot makes them place a hand on his arm like they're scared he's going to blow up. Jason usually ignores them and finds a quiet corner.

Jason Todd attends Wayne Galas. It had been a slow process, getting him to don an actual suit and smile for the cameras. He had done it before... everything- had happily lined up to be part of Gotham's circus. But after being declared legally not-dead, he assumed his family wouldn't parade their zombie around. He was wrong.

So now, he leans up along the polished metallic wall of an overly grandiose banquet hall and longs for the days when his family hated him. Maybe he's being melodramatic. But who really cares? If anyone has earned the right to be a bit dramatic, it's the guy who died during the rehearsals for his sophomore production (he'll always be bitter about that). The starched lines of his suit itch- and the Gotham elite give him a wide berth. He wants desperately to leave.

Brucie is out and about- in rare form to boot. He's got a model on either arm, sloshing expensive whiskey onto one of their glimmering gowns, grinning ear to ear as he slurs out a story about skiing. Jason wants to punch him in his perfect face. Equally drunk snobs crowd around Brucie, eating up the prince of Gotham's every word. The crowd lives for his ridiculous act, and Jason hates him for it.

Way back when Jason had worn the stupid leotard and pixie boots, Brucie went sober. He was still a charming idiot because, of course, he was, but due to his new ward's troubled past, he gave up liquor. It had been a nice gesture, one that made young Jason feel like Bruce loved cared about him in a real way. Guess that streak ended when Jason did.

Dick was in his periphery, glancing over every couple of seconds like he was waiting for Jason to go green. Jason really couldn't give a damn; there was no confusing Brucie for Willis, even if they were both mean bastards. There is no danger of a violent hand or Batarang tonight; he knows that. There would be a crowd of witnesses, and neither man would've ever done anything with an audience.

Brucie snatches an expensive-looking bottle away from a passing server, and Jason is done. He knocks back the last of his drink and shrugs off his brother's hand.

The scar tissue wrapped around his throat burns as he storms out.

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

How did Trevor get the error thingy in his arm? How did it even appear or was he born with it?

Lore drop time, its a long one so ill put it under the break

If anyone already knew it, its slightly different now, bit more expanded on, inclusion of blair, all that good stuff.

Im also making a new tag, trevlore because its funny and also so i can specifically find whatever the hell i say sometimes

Trevor was not born with it, its more like a reflection of his rapidly deteriorating mental and physical health because of some sort of stupid bad illness

Ok i guess he actually was born with it, but it never showed its face until much much later, like a dormant disease

Anyway, he was fine, maybe a little bit weird as a kid, but once he got sick it was like different, like yea he got physically ill but it also really attacked his mental health (paranoia, hallucinations, all that good stuff)

It eventually led to him basically locking himself in his room for days on end because bruh was tweaking the eff out, then got so convinced something was under his skin (probably because there was) that he eventually decided to help along the ailment that was already essentially. Uh. Eating away at his skin on his right arm.

In other words his arm got itchy, he was like yea no bruh theres totally something there, then he fucking peels his arm like a banana 🍌

Then its the error symbol

Why the error symbol though? And why was be born with it?

Well the universe he resides in is, in a way, kind of like a computer. Trevor existence is normal, he looks normal and acts normal, but is like a corrupt file, in its inner code n stuff something fucked up.

Essentially, trevor isnt supposed to exist, but he does and because of that hes acting like a sort of virus of sorts to the universe

And god ok call me cringe, i feel liek a real hypocrite because normally i get annoyed my multiverse stories unless it was like spiderverse or rick and morty (be quiet) but yea this does kinda fall into a multiverse type of idea

Since trevor is fucking up his universe hes also acting as a wormhole of sorts, SOMETIMES like when he touches something with his error arm or just tweaks out because it gets worse, he can quite literally bring parts of other universes into his own

So sometimes he’s walkin by a computer, and itll either just bug the fuck out or act as like a sort of camera into some undecipherable thing (the disease acts electronically so it is technologically leaning i guess idk it doesnt make sense dont look into it)

Even thought it is like a sort of multiverse thing its not like trevor is gonna single handedly make one universe crash into another, feels excessive and over powerful to me, i think if worst comes to worse he just jumble his universe and when he eventually DIES for one reason or another its just left as a weird glitching mess, not worsening or on the verge of collapse

Anyway, the disease is part of why trevor puts up with blair, dont get me wrong they ARE friends but blair is kinda like. Really annoying and hard to confront on certain things, they have issues listening and following peoples boundaries at times. Trevor was actually planning to have a long talk with blair but then he got real sick and suddenly everything else seemed to matter a lot less. Blair does help him, she isnt diabolical damn, but on trevors end its also a lot of receiving a lot of unwanted things (platonic affection, hes not a very “loving” person, often times preferring to be left alone outside of conversations or specifically set aside times to hang out) he just doesnt care enough about because hes busy being paranoid n shit

Specifically about blair, trevor and blair met in college, at that time trevor was 18 and blair was 19, im not gonna lie i dont have specific ages for them currently but idk both in their 20s and 1 year apart. Anyway, blair (he/she/they) is the more talkative one, they partner up in one of their classes and hang out, enjoying each others company a lot. Blair grew up pretty well off, i wouldnt say RICH RICH but yknow. Nice place. Blair would always be planning things and wanting to do stuff with trevor, trevor was mostly just happy to have a friend that seemed to actually give a shit if he was there or not (haha lonely loser). Blair is a nice person, but they do tend to speak over people, and they also can a bit hard to explain boundaries to. They kinda just apply their own personal everythings to everyone else (they love hugs and wouldnt mind receiving a surprise one, that type of stuff). They grew up on a very different path of life from trevor, so it can obviously get a little bit weird on finer levels. Blair is very idealistic to the point they forget to ground themselves in reality, i.e “omg lets get a cat!” When they can barely afford rent as is

Trevor and blair room together in an apartment near their college, trevor did however drop out because he got sick, kept getting recommended therapy for yelling at nothing in class, and also because of that his tanking grades (kinda sad for him but ohhhhh wellllll)

I dont think blair dropped college, but i dont think they went a full 4 years so maybe she just was like “hey im taking a gap year its a gap year promise” and then just stopped taking classes? Or something?? Idk im coming up with this stuff as im writing

Uh ok fast decision time right now, blairs last name is atkin, Blair Atkin. Its pulled from atkinson which came up when i searched white people last names on google. His middle name will be uhhhhh alex, haha their initials are baa. Anyway this means BlairAtkin is the blair tag now

[sapphiresaphics]

Gonna re-post this here as its own separate post for those who want to understand what the Black Rose arc was about.

———

Ambessa discovered the Black Rose, a group of Noxian mages that go against the beleifs of Noxian culture to keep people in check. The Black Rose act as a sort of secret society that controls Noxian culture from the inside. Making sure that nobody ever rises too high in their eyes.

Ambessa doesn't like the idea of someone telling her she can't do something, so she has an illegitimate child with a mage. That child is Mel and Mel inherits magic powers as a result. The idea being that Mel could eventually be used to fight the Black Rose.

As the Black Rose start to suspect something is up, Mel is sent off to live in Piltover. Hidden away from them.

Mel, thinking she's been banished or abandoned by her mother, strives to put Piltover on the map by manipulating the counsel and working towards bettering Piltover's technological progress.

Meanwhile, Mel's brother starts to look into Mel's history and discovers the Black Rose stuff and get sucked into their web. He is ultimately killed as the Black Rose try to figure out if he was the illegitimate child or not.

At this point, Mel has championed Hex Tech and turned it into a great economic boon for Piltover. But when Jinx attacks the city and Hex Tech is stolen, chaos starts to throw things into disarray.

News of the attack and stolen technology makes its way back to Ambessa. Grief stricken and terrified of the Black Rose, Ambessa realizes she can finally use Mel's ambition for her own personal gain. She needs Hex Tech weaponry so she can stand up to the Black Rose once and for all.

So Ambessa arrives in Piltover's and starts getting in the ear of Jayce and pushing him towards violence.

And because of her, Jayce makes a hextech weapon and goes into the undercity to take on Silco.

Pissed off Ambessa did this, Mel disowns her mother and her heritage and tries to fix the wrongs. And just as things are looking like it's gonna be okay... Jinx bombs the counselors chamber.

Mel's powers unlock and end up protecting her and Jayce, but nobody else. Ambessa uses this chaos to push for more violence. As Mel continues to stand in her way, Ambessa chooses an even more risky plan.

Ambessa sets the undercity up for an attack on the memorial, which pushes things even further. Mel is no longer in control and Hex Tech weapons are now a real thing.

But the Black Rose have caught on to what Ambessa is doing. And at first they possess the body of a merchant head to try and get close to her, but it fails.

Ambessa is able to kill her and this causes her to panic and nominate Caitlyn to be a general.

Having failed to directly attack Ambessa, the Black Rose falls back on Mel and kidnap her. This happens to coincide with Jayce, Heimerdinger, and Ekko being caught in the Wild Rune.

Ambessa now has control of the city, but she's lost all her magical weaponry. Nobody is smart enough to make weapons for her using Hex Texh, and her magical daughter is gone! So Ambessa falls back on using Singe to make chem-weaponry and eventually tries to make an army that can't be killed.

Remember, Ambessa's only real goal is to get rid of the Black Rose. She doesn't care what happens to anyone else in the pursuit of this goal. Which is exactly why the Black Rose is getting more and more desperate. All their attempts to sideline Ambessa are failing, and now it seems like if she keep going down this path she will unintentionally unleash Viktor's machine Herald onto the population of the world and destroy everything!

So when Mel, in captivity, finally unlocks her magical abilities and proves that she was the illegitimate child Ambessa had, the Black Rose have one last chance to stop Ambessa. Recruit Mel to do it for them. They tell Mel that Ambessa's ambition will ruin the world, and they give her a token that she can use to stop her.

Mel returns to the city of Piltover and tries desperately to reason with Ambessa, but she's too far gone now. Ambessa will not stop. And her war with Piltover is fast approaching worldwide destruction.

During the battle, Caitlyn sacrifices her eye to rip off the magical armor Ambessa had been using and Mel uses the magical amulet the Black Rose gave her to stop her mother.

But Mel is an empath. She also doesn't want the Black Rose to succeed, so she steps in and prevents the Black Rose from killing her mother. She saves her mother from the Black Rose, but the damage is done, and Ambessa dies in her arms.

Mel, now realizing she is magical AND in charge of Ambessa's army, heads back to Noxus to potentially challenge the Black Rose once and for all.

The End.

[nebulamorada]

Please sit with me and listen to me talk about a Marshall Mathers x reader where they deal with an unexpected pregnancy

You had never really connected with motherhood, with any of the ideas and positions that surround the word, of course, you respected women who chose that for their lives, you were in favor of childhoods being cared for and protected, firmly believing that the first step to that is not having a child who could not be given the stability deserved in any case, whether economic, emotional, etc.

Maybe it was the environment in which you were raised, maybe you knew that there were conditions in you that would never be good for you to develop the role of mother, was it how invasive the changes of pregnancy were? or perhaps the social pressure that it all entails. You did not overthink it and, although you did not make any decision lightly, you had everything decided.

Finding Marshall was perfect for it, at his age and with years of parenting that included three girls, his share of fatherhood had been more than paid, so in the initial situation of the relationship, one of the things that were raised due to the age difference was children within the couple, both being honest with each other and happy that, although for different reasons, both agreed on a middle point under the same desire. To be just the two of you. Although of course, all plans have a margin of error.

And the blood tests that were positive for pregnancy that you had in your hands were the ones for both of you.

You had been feeling bad the last few weeks, Marshall insisting that you check it out, being dense enough with the subject to convince you to get some kind of check-up. That had led them to this… that and those weeks of vacation just both of you in that place with the spacious jacuzzi, of course.

Marshall, despite his conflicts about the situation at hand, tried to be understanding of whatever decision you chose to make, offering all the support you might need, promising to find a solution to whatever scenario you were working with, without making it clear if he wanted a particular decision. You, on the other hand, felt that even putting forward the option of an abortion was something that would be accepted. Your family had certain concepts that went against it, the press could find out about it somehow, and you had read thousands of articles and comments about how after the process, regret was generated that almost always ended in depression or some disorder. You didn't want that baby, but the idea of ​​not having it was also wrong according to a little voice in the back of your head that you had never heard before.

Marshall was again the voice of reason inside your head, keeping a cool head by laying out all the possibilities, taking the time to develop each one, especially the one that included abortion, noticing the way you avoided the subject. He wasn't going to force you to do anything, but he wanted you to know that it was one of the options you had. The security in his words, the restraint in his touch, and his understanding behind any decision you made, gave you enough confidence to make the option you considered most correct.

And when everything was done, you spent days waiting for a feeling of guilt and regret that never came. The feeling of relief and peace was arriving as soon as things went back to routine, Marshall still had doubts about being away for too long, but assuring him that everything was fine, he was skipping it little by little, still texting throughout the day and sending blurry and out-of-focus selfies, knowing that at least they would make you smile. Obviously, both of them were not unaware of the elephant in the room and although neither felt guilt or regret, accompanied the process with the help of a professional, with whom you were able to ensure that nothing that happened had to generate guilt and that not having it did not make you a bad person.

You liked your life the way it was and it was only fair to give the infant the chance to have a family that wanted and loved him the way he deserved. There is nothing to reproach in that.

[vickytaa]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌.𝐒.

summery: After a great game, y/n is not happy with her participation

___________________☆___________________

My team was happily celebrating winning the match, while I was thinking about what I needed to improve for the next one. I haven't been good enough, I made several mistakes that definitely won't happen in the next one.

I need to train more to improve, I must not drop any balls. Maybe watching the video of my match will help me see where I went wrong.

I played badly. I need to train more, maybe I'll sign up for another training session, surely another coach can tell me what I'm doing wrong. Or als-

"Hey," Matt's sweet voice interrupted my post-match thoughts. He walked over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I quickly looked up, meeting his worried look.

He knew that I took the sport very seriously, but he never supported me in going to train more hours and refused to take me to training sessions that were "Too much" according to him.

I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding. "Can we go home?" I asked, my eyes filling with tears. I didn't know why I felt like crying so badly, nor did I know why I felt like I had played so badly.

But it's true, I played badly.

Matt slowly nodded, not even asking why I hadn't celebrated with my teammates, or how I felt after the game, like he always does. But I think I know why he doesn't, it's because he already knows the answer.

I'm never satisfied with how I play, there are times when I come home crying, torturing myself all day about how I played badly while everyone told me I was the player of the match. But it wasn't enough, it never is.

That's why I always try to find ways to improve, watching my games and counting my mistakes in my notebook:

- 1 serving error, I got to 8/10 touches, I was blocked 3 times, I have to run faster, open up to attack faster, I need to train more.

We left quickly, people who passed me congratulated me for the great game we had, but nothing filled the emptiness I felt inside. Matt noticed it, he knew what was going on inside my mind. Well, maybe only a part of what goes on inside it.

When we got to the car, we got in but Matt wouldn't start the car. He knew this had to stop, what was happening to me was a very serious problem.

"Y/n" Matt said, his tone normal, covering the great concern behind it. I turned my head, just enough to look him in the eyes, and that's when I saw it. The concern, the fear.

The tears that had formed earlier were now rolling down my face. The silence filled the car with noise. Our gazes did not move away, as if they were communicating with each other.

Matt shook his head slightly, inviting me to sit on his lap. I had never given myself to him easily. Whenever I cried after a game I always found a way to cry alone, immersed in my own thoughts.

But this time it was different, there was nowhere to run, and there was no reason to. I slowly unbuckled the seat belt and curled up on his lap, my head resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

It was all very intimate, the moment, the closeness, the love. I had never felt strong enough to let myself be so vulnerable in front of someone, but I couldn't with Matt. He was my safe place, where I recharged my energy to carry on with my day to day life.

He hugged me tightly, as if he was trying to gather the broken glass. The tears kept falling without stopping. Even though there was not a single word, he understood me, I understood myself.

"You shouldn't torture yourself like this. Please, Y/n, it kills me to see you like this every day" Matt confessed. I always knew that he had a bitter taste in his mouth whenever I came home crying from a training session or a game, but hearing it from him?

Pain flooded my chest, knowing how the mental damage I was doing to myself was affecting those I loved the most.

This had to stop, it wasn't good for me and even less for those who care about me. I must stop beating myself up for mistakes that aren't that big of a deal.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. And I really did. My sobs were the only thing that could be heard at that moment, the sound of them ripping through Matt's soul. Seeing me this broken, this vulnerable, killed him.

He quickly gave me a small kiss on my forehead, and then hugged me even tighter, as if he didn't want me to ever leave. "It's okay, baby." He said, his words hanging in the air as I tried to hold them in and believe them.

It wasn't okay, not at all, but in that moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay. We were going to get through this together and we weren't going to let my frustration win.

"Thank you," I said, my voice low, almost like a sigh, but just enough for him to hear. "I love you," Matt said as he rested his chin on my head, trying to hold me as close as possible.

"I love you more," I said. My sobs slowly calmed down, the air became lighter and the voices in my head quieter.

𝐕 -

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[hakugreenfinch]

i actually firmly believe that even if for the wrong reasons, curly was right to not give anya the captain gun.

im basing this on the assumptions/readings that a) jimmy was abusing both curly and anya in different ways, b) he assaulted anya in her sleep (i have several reasons to believe so) and as a consequence c) curly did not realize things were that bad until it was way too late (obligatory "even though yeah he should have taken anya seriously from the first report of 'hey jimmy was in my room last night'") but neither did anya really grasp just how badly she was being abused until after the dead pixel conversation (i think this is important because it shows just how careful jimmy was in his machinations).

the thing is we want to believe that oh sure if anya had a gun it would have been fine. but the other thing is that if you have a weapon in self defense - your attacker also has that weapon. giving anya the gun would have been as good as giving jimmy the gun and cocking it for him too - not to mention we actually experience that the gun isnt easy to fire, thus making it less reliable in the case of an emergency than one would think.

anya assumed curly wouldnt have given her the gun because she knew his relationship with jimmy, she knew curly would be worried she would hurt herself with it and she knew the company sucked and would have penalized them all if the gun got out of its case for reasons they dont deem "justified" - they didnt put locks on the sleeping quarters, i doubt they would rule anya's personal safety as reason enough. i think her assumptions in that were correct, curly isnt super strict as a captain but hes not "sure heres the super locked safety gun" lax. he trusted swansea with the axe because he trusted swansea to use it appropriately, he wouldnt have trusted anya with a firearm if she was in mental distress.

i dont think those were the good reasons to not let anya protect herself in this way ("corporate/jimmy will get mad" just is not it). but i do believe if he did give her the gun it would have been a matter of time before jimmy gets ahold of it and shit goes south a lot sooner. i believe jimmy isnt brave enough to do anything to anya while she could ask for help - his entire tactic is based on only letting anyone else notice small things that he could make excuses for. he probably would have taken it from anya while she was asleep, when she didnt have it right in her hand, when she looked away for a moment. it doesnt really matter, he would have found a way, boom, jimmy has a gun now.

why i think that would have been a lot worse than him acquiring the gun as late as he does in the game is that jimmy is pretty much fueled by a hunger for power and control. he gets those once curly is out of the picture as someone capable of running the ship but before the crash? hes very sneaky about his manipulation. he goes after anya physically when nobody can catch him because he can overpower her but he wouldnt try something like that with curly who is likely physically stronger than him (curly weight lifts in his free time!) which is why he puts pressure on him emotionally. the crash is actually very convenient for jimmy, he gets to usurp the title of captain without having to actually do anything to curly himself (as in, with his very own hands and with the intent of getting him out of his way). i just truly think if he had gotten his hands on the gun while curly still fully believed he was his friend and could fight back things would have gotten very ugly a whole lot faster.

tl;dr i think "anya should have had the gun" is something we want to believe would have saved the entire crew but considering jimmy's methods of exercising power over his crewmates proves otherwise. curly had the wrong reasons to not arm anya, but ultimately the longer the gun is out of jimmy's view the better.

[melancholicmarionette]

Lmao remember months ago I asked for q&a suggestions for my Sam and Valerie podcast brainrot and then never did anything? It’s bc I only got to like two and then left this in my drafts. I’ve decided it’s fine. merry crisis and happy hanukkah

—

Graveyard Gals Episode 15: Q&A Special Just for You

“Welcome. I’m Sam.”

“I’m Val.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We have exactly one thing in common and that’s that we are always down to record us arguing for an hour.”

“Because you guys like it for some reason?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with you?”

“Anyway,” Sam leaned back in her chair, adjusting her headphones, “if you’re still here after we insulted you, then please congratulate us for making fifteen episodes.”

“She needs constant validation,” Valerie said, smirking at the flash of anger that shot through Sam’s eyes as a result.

“This will also be our last episode, she will be dead after recording.”

“Gotta film that sweet sweet content before I beat your ass in a back alley, I see,” Valerie replied, “anyway—to celebrate our fifteenth and perhaps final episode, we have gathered some of your most burning questions from the comment section—”

“Our friends did, for impartiality,” Sam clarified, “Tucker and Danny picked mine, Star chose for Valerie, and as I say it out loud I think that I, at leas, may have made a mistake.”

“We’ll see,” Val said. She scrolled through her phone, finding the google doc her friend had crafted for her—it was a spreadsheet, really, Star couldn’t resist an opportunity to make a spreadsheet—for her first question. “Okay, first—ugh.”

“Read it. You have to.”

“Jesus—BokChoyJoy23 asks ‘when are you actually going to do local ghost smash or pass?’” Valerie waited for Sam’s cackling to die down before continuing, making direct eye contact with her camera, “You’re actually one of many to ask. One of so many. And I don’t regret to inform you that that is something Manson says to piss me off.”

“When there’s a lull—we can’t have lulls,” Sam interjected, “and can I say? Bold of you to assume I won’t do it.”

“We’re moving on.”

“For now. Put a pin in it—but we have something way more important to address: SailorGoon—fantastic username, no notes—asks ‘do you think the genie ghost would help me with my gender transition?’ Oh. Oh SailorGoon.”

“SailorGoon, look at me,” Valerie said sternly, and stared unblinkingly into her own face cam, “or if you’re listening just pay close attention—do not ask Desiree for anything. Nothing. I don’t care if you just need a pen. No.”

“Please seek out other resources,” Sam retreated to her phone for a moment, “I’m actually gonna—someone I follow actually has a linktree specifically for stuff like that, I’m gonna repost it to our account—by the time you see this it’ll be posted. We’re in the past.”

“You’re in the future, you’re living your best life in like…”

“In your best gender.”

“Yes—and you’re not trusting genies.”

“Or like just…not Desiree.”

“Are you gonna “hashtag NotAllGenies” me here Manson?”

“Would it make you mad?”

“Livid.”

“Then I’m making a graphic, it’s gonna go…” Sam traced her finger across an empty space in front of her, “right along here. Hashtag NotAllGenies.”

[izelthewashbear]

Good news: we finally know why c!Martyn fell off between his win in Limited life, and then his recent placements in Secret life and Wild life!

Bad news: Not angsty enough.

Worry not, for I have already thought of three (3) alternative reasons for why Martyn fell off the way he did!

(disclaimer: this post is NOT meant to signify that Eyes and Ears is a bad AU by any means. I respect the decisions that Martyn makes (as much as I wanna toss this man into a wall sometimes), but I decided to give this one thing my own little spin, since I've already been thinking about it for a while. Enjoy!)

These headcanons are placed in a particular order: 1 fits pretty well into EaE AU and technically could be canon if Martyn likes it ig?, 2 is a pretty neutral one that could fit into any AU or interpretation (+ is the closest one to what Martyn said on his lore stream, but a little different) and 3 is one I personally use in my own AU, called Preservers AU, or The ones who watch, the ones who listen, the ones who kill AU (WLK for short).

1. Martyn got fucked up the same way Cleo and Pearl did in Double life.

While doing research into EaE and watching Limited Life lore stream a while back, one particular thing caught my attention. As you may remember, in session 6, Cleo and Pearl were absent and Gem and Lizzie came to fill in for them. I really liked what Martyn lored there - the idea that Double Life messed up with them so much (especially Pearl, but Cleo too) that even after "resting" in the eternal fuckass void that the Watchers throw them into (the void has no name, so may I propose the name I use in my own AU - The Midway, as in the middle of the way between different worlds) they weren't quite in the right mindset to enter the games again - hence, for example, Pearl talking about Tilly in ep 1 of LimL. So, their souls got snached by the Watchers, threw into the void like into a microwave when you need to heat up your food for just a minute longer, and their conciousnesses were replaced with Gem and Lizze's.

And what if the same should've happened to Martyn?

Let's be honest, winning this series messes everyone up, especially if it ends by you backstabbing the only person who was nice to you the whole season (+ some random guy who just happened to be too close to your sword). Especially if we take into account the interpretation that Martyn got briefly possessed by the Watchers as he killed them ("time is delicious" yada yada yada, we know what you are sir). I can totally believe that this win messed with him enough that at the beginning of Secret life, he was still a bit woozy, a bit disjointed. That would explain him being the first yellow, first red, as well as ending up in the bottom half of the leaderboard for the first time. Funny how he was still the only person to never fail a task, I guess even when fucked up by the Watchers he still has his 300 IQ.

But why didn't the Watchers snatch him during Secret life and put him back into the aforementioned void? Cuz they like torturing him too much and they were like "naaaaaah he'll be fineeee" (he wasn't). Or, they wanted to, but they accidentally snatched the wrong blond guy (aka Tango) (just like in Wild life, they mixed up their blondes again and got Martyn killed before Jimmy).

2. The nihilism route

Martyn's explanation during the lore stream was that c!Martyn, after he won, stopped caring about his performance and decided to chill out a bit, hence him doing worse and worse each subsequent season. But c'mon dude, where's the angst? So I propose a slightly changed version.

You go through four painful, draining, exhausting death games. Each time you die too early to reach your goal. You see your friends die, and you die painfully as well. Until one day, it happens. You win, you kill everyone. You're ecstatic, now you can fix everything, free everyone, change everyone's fate and be free-

And then you're tossed into a new game. All your happy murder time didn't matter. You're right back where you started. Not to mention, the one you were fighting for isn't around, still. So what do you do? Wallow in sorrow, of course! You're all stuck and you're all fucked! There is no escape! Nothing matters! (/neg)

So yeah what Martyn said but make it sadder

3. The Watchers hate you, personally (spoilers for my AU! + if it sounds stupid out of context I'm sorry)

(TW for body horror, oops)

So I'm no stranger to writing horrible fates to characters I really like (and unfortunately that includes c!Martyn, this guy is just too fun to mangle repeatedly). In my AU, after a win, each player is granted a singular wish from the Watchers - and that wish is twisted into a sick version, making up the new game. WLK!Martyn, the nosey bastard he is, asked to know everything about the Watchers - all their secrets, all their knowledge, how to defeat them. Watchers said "bet" and in return, gouged out his eye and replaced it with their own, "lending" him some of their powers (with the side effects being migraines, insomnia, being flashed with horrifying visions, throbbing pains in half of his skull and falling off in general). So uh yeah, guy that loses an eye in such a fashion and doesn't have any time to recover will probably have a hard time placing high again.

It could also be made into a non-WLK version where the Watchers mangled him in some other way. Sorry Listeners but you can't save your boy from that, he too far gone

So I hope you liked my little ramble! If you have any of your own ideas, interpretations or even questions lemme know, I love loring and I wanna outlore the lore guy one day :3