#but our brain is constantly convinced that we are and it's hell

[euclydya]

i hate this like.... constant need to have reassurance that we aren't Annoying or A Bad Person or anything. What the fuck

[whiskeyskin]

Goddesses and Mortals

Premise: After the events of Love and Longing, Gale finds out that his feelings are reciprocated.. and that's not all.. 😳🍑🫵

Accidental sequel to a previous fic cause I can't get this lonely Wizard out of my head without the promise of a potentially happy ending 🥹 in more ways than one 😏🍆

Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating • MDNI

Gale POV, reader referred to as 'you', no specific mention of gentials or gender, porn with plot?, Mystra can fuck right off, fantasies becoming reality, longing, love, tenderness, mutual masturbation, anal fingering (M receiving), unabashed consent, mild cum swapping, minor sub/dom energy, marking if you squint

5.3k words

Special thanks to @senualothbrok for nestling this tadpole in my brain for Gale to get the real deal one day.. 💜

And at it again @spellbooking with another beautiful gif of our Rizzard ☺️ Thank you! 💜

•°•°•

Gale was close, very close.

He had to hurry, the party would all be rising from camp soon. Though there was no sunlight in this desolate place, a full rest was almost upon him.

Safely secluded in the abandoned house on the far reaches of camp; sweat damp on his brow, his hand slick with salvia, Gale feverishly pumped his length in quick bursts.

Your illusion image looked up at him through lidded eyes licking your bottom lip hungrily and growling a hedonistic moan.

"Gale.." you whimpered, the voice distorted.

"Yes, love.. I'm going to come for you.. only for you.. come with me." He bit out, on the precipice of orgasm.

Suddenly, a faint lilting of rosewater assailed his nose and stopped him dead.

A cold dread filled his body, incapacitating his lungs.

Mystra.

It couldn't be.

Surely not.

Not here.

Not now.

Why right now for hell's sake?

He'd not felt her presence since she'd tried to wedge herself between you both when you'd shared a moment of magic in camp.

Despite their separation, she still checked in on her disgraced former chosen and lover at the most inopportune moments.

Fumbling, he quickly tucked himself away in his waistband and spun on his heel.

Nothing.. but the scent remained.

Had she finally gotten sick of his abusing himself constantly to the fictitious likeness of you, using her magical essence to do so?

Had she been sensing him masturbating at least twice a day since her intervention charm through Elminster?

Was she making herself known to quell his incessant self-gratification, or to participate in it?

Even a tenday ago, that would have been a comforting thought. One he would have relished in, taken solace and pride in.. but this felt wrong.

His sweet nothings he had whispered in the dead of night to "you" weren't for Mystra's perverse enjoyment, or sick amusement, weren't for her for to cast judgement on.

"I don't know why you're here," he called brazenly, "but I assure you, this is nothing that concerns you any longer. Now, if you'd be so kind, leave me in peace." He requested, firmly.

Silence.

He wasn't convinced.

"And I don't appreciate the timing of you little assertion here. Now that I'm finally on a path of some kind of healing, you make yourself known?" He snapped, pointing a finger at nothing.

"You have no reason to be here. You have already spoken your will and want with my life and until such a time that that moment arrives, I will do what I want, with whomever I want. Be they real, or fantasy is no concern of yours. Now, leave." He frowned and gestured finally.

The warmth in the air he didn't realise had been present disparated. He was left cold.

Just like always with her.

"Gale?" Called your voice, your vision now by the doorway.

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe, slightly bleary.

"Sorry, my love. I got distracted. Less said about that, the better. Now," he beckoned a crooked finger towards himself, "let's get back to where we were before everyone wakes up."

You frowned and looked him up and down, "Did you just call me, 'my love'?" You asked.

For the second time that early morning, Gale's blood ran cold.

"And what exactly were we doing before?" You irked a brow, looking amused.

Gale struggled for words as the blood that had been swiftly journeying to the south was urgently redirected north.

"I-uh-I did? Must've been a mistake. What are you doing up so early?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

You squinted, "Who were you talking to?"

"No one." Gale answered, feigning innocence.

"Wow, that was convincing." You teased with mockingly wide eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him and he felt a gentle brush against his mind. You were seeking permission. He allowed it.

"Mystra?" You asked with a tense lilt. Gale nodded.

"Thought so, I heard you calling that you were trying to move on and someone was suddenly trying to get your attention again. Is everything alright?" You asked, your tone worried and sincere.

Gale's heart bloomed.

"Yes, since her missive from Elminster, she's reached out. I don't have time for it."

"That's a massive step for you, Gale. You said something about moving on, is that true?"

"Somewhat." He answered in a half truth.

You smiled, "Is she still here?" There was a pause, Gale could see the cogs turning, "Did you want to make her jealous? Is that why you called me 'my love'?"

Gale blinked twice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe you snuck up here to be with me. Maybe I'm the one you're moving on with."

Again, Gale blinked twice.

How unintentionally right you were.

He swallowed.

"Would that be something you're interested in helping me with?"

"To fuck with the gods? Anything." You purred the last word down the connection at him and it made the hairs on his neck raise like you'd whispered it directly against his skin.

"Then by all means, take the lead."

You irked a seductive brow and turned down your head to gaze through lidded eyes.

He swallowed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You're just so gods damned handsome. I'm glad we could sneak away again." You walked towards him confidently, a slight prowl in your gait.

Gale's blood supply had ignored previous instruction and fully marched back south. The sight of you - truly you - saying these things to him had him dizzy from the rush of blood.

"Not to worry, I quite enjoying being gawped at."

"Well, it's certainly no hardship." You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a sensual hug, while he desperately tried to keep his erection from your notice.

"Mm, we have to be quick. We don't have much time until the others wake up." You crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Did the minor illusion keep you warm enough while I was gone?"

And for the third time that morning, Gale's body shot full of ice.

His blood entirely confused, threw it's hands up in defeat for direction.

You knew?

How could you know?

He was careful.. wasn't he?

Your hands never stopped roaming; his arms, his shoulders, his neck.. his hair.. oh gods, up into his hair.

Gale's breath hitched and shuddered.

Oh gods, you felt like heaven. Even if he felt like he was in hell.

"I know you like me to watch you but I've been so neglectful lately with everything that's been going on. Can you forgive me?" You pulled back from him, your face pulled into a beautifully twisted smile, sin pulled at the edges.

"I th-think you can make it up to me." He gasped.

Your eyebrows flexed in amusement up your forehead, "Do you want me to watch you right now? With everyone waiting in camp, drinking tea and preparing breakfast?"

You smoothed your hands from his shoulders to the top of his chest, "Do you like the anticipation of being caught, Gale? The rush of being found?"

Oh gods, you were so close. You smelled so good, like lemongrass and lavender.. and underneath the balms, your musk, your scent. You.

"I would do anything, as long as it was with you, my love." He breathed, unable to contain the emotion in his voice.

Your eyes unfocused for a brief moment, then came back, blinking as though seeing through an unfogged mirror.

A soft gasp caught in the back of your throat; that noise could state him for a thousand nights.

Then you stepped away.

You averted your gaze, and backed away from his arms completely. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Gale, I-"

You opened them, a wealth of feelings swirling but he couldn't decipher any of them.

"I need to get back to camp. We need to get to Moonrise Towers today, with Isobel's blessing we can cross the Shadows. We need to be ready." You nodded curtly and disappeared.

Gale stared after you, the cold air of the Shadowlands around him a cruel but poetic pathetic fallacy.

He groaned and closed his eyes against balled fists, as he pressed them against his eyes. Tears brimmed behind them, hot frustrated tears.

"Gods fucking dammit."

***

Gale had attempted to maintain distance today, which had been difficult considering you'd partied up together with Karlach and Shadowheart.

Karlach had tried to question his glum mood, but he'd simply recused it as nerves of their close proximity to the potential Heart of the Absolute.

"Ah, Gale. If there's anyone who knows how shit it is to have a ticking time bomb in their chest, it's me. Come and speak to me sometime mate, yeah? We can talk about it."

"Karlach, you're truly a soul that steels my own. I may just take you up on that."

A firm nod and a beaming smile from Karlach ended the conversation as they entered this Balthazar's chamber, after which none of them really had the stomach for food that night.

Wyll had stepped up and made a hearty bowl of vegetable and meat stew. It was nothing on his own cooking, of course but it was a valiant attempt.

Needed a little more pepper.

You sat nursing your bowl, generally making conversation around the fire. Halsin had joined you back from Last Light with no new news of the catatonic lost soul, apart from that he kept singing. A lute of significance to him had been added to your list of items to retrieve; an ever growing list.

Gale swallowed a mouthful and risked a glance towards you, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, uncomfortable. His heart sank.

He'd truly ruined any chance of friendship after his desperate behaviour this morning. You'd barely spoken two words together all day, and now you wouldn't look him in the eye.

He excused himself for an early night and retreated to his tent. He lit his candles and pulled out one of the many books he'd picked up along today's excursions around Moonrise, hoping that one of them would point them towards the heart.

***

The noise around the campfire grew weary as he poured over his readings. Various 'goodnights' alerted him to the potentially late hour.

Gale sighed and rubbed his eyes, he conjured a bookmark, closed it and drained his glass of wine.

Now that he'd been pulled from his focus, he realised how tired he was. Physically drained from a gruelling day of emotional turbulence.

Rosewater gently lilted under his nose, he snorted it back out.

"Oh for the love of-! Bugger off!" He spat through a whisper.

"I'm sorry." Came your voice from behind him.

He spun around on his knees to see you hastily trying to leave his tent.

"No!" Called a little too loudly, reaching out across the space, "Not you. I didn't mean you."

You stopped, looking back at him for the first time since the morning. The soft glow of the candles illuminating your wonderful face, his heart squeezed uncomfortably.

"I assume she's back again, then?" You asked through terse lips, glancing around the low lit interior of his tent.

"Where rosewater is, Mystra's sure to follow. What can I do for you?" Gale asked, shaking off the lingering of his former lover.

"I-," you started, wringing your hands, "I wanted to apologise for this morning."

Gale blinked.

You wanted to apologise?

"What for?" He questioned his tone incredulous.

"For it all. I embarrassed you, I embarrassed myself.. I acted poorly. I thought it would be a good way to show that I knew what you'd been doing-with the minor illusions." Gale's eyes widened. He'd been attempting to solve that one today.

"H-How did you find out?"

"I'd cast Detect Thoughts on Jaheria when we met her at the Inn, and it lasts all day. I heard you when I was laying down to rest. All the things you wanted to do." You swallowed thickly, and a jolt of excitement shot it's way through his cock to his brain.

That was two nights ago.

He'd fantasized about gourging on your sex as you mounted his face, fucking yourself with his mouth as you leaned back with one hand to stroke him. He'd made a mess of his walls, as well as himself.

"You've got a pretty interesting imagination, Gale. Especially since we seem to be ethereal galaxy people in your head." You smiled, folding your arms across yourself, "The one from last night was pretty hot too." You bit your bottom lip to contain more, and swallowed.

He remembered that vividly.

He'd fantasised about spooning you, fucking into you and playing with you from behind. The mirror image had gasped and moaned for him, breathed his name over and over again, as he came to the thought of pleasing you enough to milk his cum inside your clenching walls.

"I thought it was just sex, that maybe we could get rid of some nervous energy together but then this morning.. the way you-you looked at me.." you trailed off, Gale's heart hammered against his chest.

You rest your splayed hands across your heart, "I was foolish. You're not the kind to just sleep around. To have casual sex and not think of it again."

"Like Astarion?" He quipped before vetting the venomous comment.

You tightened your lip, "Kind of." You answered, with a tone that felt loaded with more secretive information but he didn't want to pry.

Well, he did.

But not right now.

"I could be." He postured, looking up at you.

You let out a short laugh, "That face this morning is not the face of someone who can just have sex and not want more."

He hardened his face, "It could be.. if you wanted to be.." Gale irked a brow, feigning a casual air.

"Oh, yeah?" You goaded, leaning on one hip and folding your arms again.

"Absolutely. We could have sex right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid." He lied, pushing his lips down into a grimace, while his cheeks flushed and his heart pounded against his sternum.

"Really?" You questioned, looking dubious.

"Unquestionably." Gale punctuated with a flick of his fingers, relaxing into his position on the floor, widening his knees to sit back on his heels in an attempt at nonchalance.

"So, you fantasising about kissing my neck, my chest, stomach and hips and calling me "my love" means nothing." You stated, using air quotations.

"Certainly not. Mere sweet talk." Gale shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, while sweat gathered on his forehead.

You kicked off your hip and confidently strolled towards the short distance to him. His mouth instantly dried to dangerous levels of dehydration, as he tried to keep composure.

"And imagining your cock in my mouth, telling me how much you adore me, that isn't telling at all?" You sneered a lip through a smirk and shrugged one shoulder.

"Demonstrably." He tried to remain calm but every cell in his body was panicking, "Do you see me reacting?" He willed himself through words not to show a care.

Your tongue broke through your smirk to rub against your top teeth and his felt it between his legs, he jerked unconsciously.

"You're glowing." You drawled, dipping your eyes to his chest, "Do you even realise the orb lights up when you're horny?"

Gale's painfully stony face dropped as he quickly darted his vision to his chest.

You were indeed correct.

Through his camp clothes, a faint purple hue eminated through the fabric. Gale shot his had to cover his blatant display of arousal. He gave a sharp exhale through his nose and closed his eyes in utter embarrassment.

"This tent has been a purple colour show since Crèche Y'llek." You teased, the sound of your voice curved around a grin.

Gale's chest hollowed.

Gods dammit.

Mystra dammit.

"Oh and also this.." Suddenly he felt something graze along the length of his concealed erection - what he thought was a his concealed erection.

He let out a whining gasp, his hand slapping against worn leather, and he opened his eyes.

You'd rubbed the top of your boot under and against him in his kneeled position, gliding his sensitive member with the leather of your shoe. You continued the rhythm, the gentle friction was delicious, he gasped open mouthed.

Oh gods, it was real.

You were real.

It wasn't a cruel trick, or a fantasy.

It was you.

Gale reached up to grasp the crook of your knee, you held your gaze steadfast against his own. He began to pull off your boot, your eyes never faultered from his as it was flung to the back of the tent.

Your foot resting on his thigh, his hand still holding the meat of your strong calf.

You took his prickly chin within your fingers, eyes unsure.

"If this going to happen, it's just sex. Nothing more." You stated, in a low tone.

Gale nodded, trembling from anticipation.

"I mean it. If you're on a path to self-destruction in the name of a Goddess, I'm not wasting my time with feelings." Your voice caught and anger flashed across your features but tears hinted in your eyes.

You slid your foot off his thigh and slowly descended to crouch in front of him, taking his face fully in your hands. Their warmth slid into the deepest recesses of his lonely soul.

"I care about you, Gale. You're worth far more than what she's asked you to do. Far more."

He poured over your face, so close to him. Emotions that he had denied himself bubbling to the surface; the longing, the loneliness.. the fear.

You ran a thumb to dry a tear he hadn't realise had fallen.

"Say something." You whispered, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips.

Oh gods.

This was to truly happen?

He'd kiss your beautiful, soft lips?

His breathing was unsteady, the anticipation coiled dangerously around every facet of his musculature.

Gale opened his mouth to speak, to utter sweet poetry regaling your beauty, your passion, your wit and wisdom but the words would not form, they were stunted on his paralysed tongue.

You were so close.

He could feel the heat from your body, he could see the wisps of your hair moving with his unsteady breath.

You came closer and pressed your lips between his brows, electric tingling his skin in your wake. His eyes lolled shut as he finally brought his hands to hold you to him, press you to him, to feel you finally.

He slid his hands below the seam of your shirt, to feel your smooth and scarred skin, fire grazing his fingertips at the contact.

"I-.. I care for you deeply. I cannot deny this." He began breathlesly, your forehead's connected, your bodies melting together. You sank further into the embrace, widening your legs to fully welcome him between your thighs.

The image of that first night he touched himself to thoughts of you, bloomed across his mind and he bit his lip.

"Neither can I." You agreed, the sound of your voice low and raspy, "It scares me, Gale. It scares the shit into me," you leaned back, holding on to the back of his neck, slowly leading you both down to the carpeted rugs below his bedroll, "Show me. Show me I'm not wrong to feel this way. Show me I'm not alone in this."

Gale shook in head, almost trance-like, "You're not alone-not alone.. I'm with you." He followed you down, desperate not to lose a second's touch with you.

"And I'm with you, I'm not letting you go." You spoke the words against his mouth, it made his mind numb.

"No, never. Never leave me." He mumbled, as you both situated yourselves on the floor. Words bubbled and frothed out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I've been so utterly alone for so long, cut off from everyone I knew and cared for.. and I'm terrified, I'm filled with dread each day. I don't want to die-I want to stay.. stay here." He mewled through the overwhelming emotion in his throat. You increased the intensity of your touch against your brows.

"Shh, none of that matters now. It doesn't exist. For now.. it's just us.. you and me.." you whispered against his skin, he felt it shiver down every vertebrae.

"You and me." He repeated, comforted by the softness in your voice.

Suddenly, your hand grasped his naked cock. He yelped in pleasure, but was hushed by the passionate meeting of your mouth. You captured his cries, claiming them as your own.

His fingers bunched your shirt, his knuckles white, as your tongue swept in to merge with his.

Oh gods.

You tasted like wine, and oranges, and sex.

He'd imagined your taste, your scent.. but this.. the full force of you was so much more intense that he could have expected.

You fingered his leaking slit and he jerked at the sensation, causing you both to make involuntary, open-mouthed moans.

You increased in fervour at his reaction, a desperate whine eeking from his body.

It was too much but not enough. He wanted more, more of you, more of this. He wanted the world to fall away and to be consumed by only you.

Like you said; "Just you and me."

Even though it would be grammatically correct to say 'You and I'.

Your hand wrapped around the length of him, pumping the head of his penis in short, lanquid bursts.. and suddenly the correctness on ones grammar seemed worlds away.

Gale shuddered and knelt over your body, settling himself between your gorgeous thighs, pressing down against your sex, enough to make you gasp.

You shared a wicked grin together before he cradled you to him, desperately kissing and mating your tongues. His hips unconsciously twitching against the friction of your hand.

"Gods, Gale. I want you." You keened against his lips, puffs of air escaping aggressively from your lungs, as his hips drove against you.

"Yesyesyesyesyes.." he chorused, messily thrusting against your palm, "Want this. Want you. For a long while.. even before.."

"Did you fantasize about all the positions we could fuck in?"

A sharp feeling settled low in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut to close out a threatening, pre-emptive climax.

"Yes, wanted you.. badly." He added, barely able to speak.

"I know, I saw. Sweating and willing underneath you?"

"Yess.." he hissed.

"Slipping a finger inside me, then another, preparing me to take you?"

Another deliciously painful pang shuddered inside him.

"Stretching my tight hole for you, till I'm begging you to fuck me hard and unrelenting?" You growled against his lips.

Gale tensed his jaw to mute a groan from his chest, as your words gripped the back of his head.

Oh dear fucking gods.

You were very, very good at this.

"I especially liked where I got to play with you. Those moans at the back of your throat when you'd think of me on top, or taking charge.. I had trouble concentrating yesterday because I couldn't stop replaying those sounds."

He heard you whisper an incantation, that his lust-filled brain slowly realised was Mage hand, the moment before he felt the cold sensation working his undergarments completely free, pushing them down passed his knees.

"There was one particular part you seemed to be interested in exploring together." You purred against his temple, as you twisted your grip around his plump, weeping member.

The Mage hand palmed at the cleft of his ass and lazily dragged it's fingers up his perennium, sliding towards his..

He gasped, throwing his head back and loosening his tight hips to tilt them upwards in wanton display.

"Oh gods." Gale whimpered, biting down on his lip hard, "Mm-Mhm." He panted in abandon.

He'd experimented with himself in this matter in his youth and in his newfound sexual freedom after his year of self imposed celibacy but never with another.

The magical fingers languidly drawled across his sensitive skin. He bucked and jerked against the feeling of you pleasuring him, needing more of both.

You groaned and rutted your hips against him.

"You look so beautiful like this, I can see you in the mirror behind you. You look spectacular, spreading yourself for me." You crooned, praising him and licking your bottom lip. You looked beyond him to what he assumed was his mirror.

Oh gods.

You were going to watch him like this.

Like he'd imagined.

Exposed.

Hedonistic.

Depraved.

The thought waved over his brain and made him dizzy, the desire swelled low in his belly.

"You're so willing and receptive, Gale. Do you want me to slide these fingers inside you? To pleasure you completely until you can't comprehend your own name?" You asked salaciously, assuring consent before blindly continuing. He raised his hips higher for better access as wordless agreement.

The mage hand ran a soaked finger across his puckering hole but ventured no further without express permission.

His whole body trembled, desire coarsing through his veins, soaking into every orifice.

"Yes.. yes.. fuck. I need it. Please.. please.." he wailed through staggered breath.

"Look at me." You instructed softly, halting your motions of abject pleasure.

With great difficulty, Gale did as he was told. He about exploded with joy with the sight of you.

He'd imagined you, summoned your likeness but nothing could ever compare to this.

The aura of his orb bathed you in a magical amethyst glow; the adoration shining in your eyes, the seductive curve of your lip, the sweat flattening your hair to your temples.

"So handsome.. so beautiful. Look at you, look at how you light up for me.." you smiled, guilding him with compliments as you raise a hand to touch the angry purple mark on his chest, now emblazoned with Mystra's star. "This does not define you. You are not the orb. You are not Mystra's chosen. You are Gale and you chose your own path. You are, and will always be, enough.. just as you are.."

Soft tears fell from his eyes from the intensity of his emotional response to your words and the physical stimuli of the hand gently testing his entrance.

You gently kissed the apples of his wet cheeks, then looked up at him with a darkened expression.

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart."

Gale instantly buried his face against your neck, lifting his exposed self for you.

"Good.." you cooed, beginning a slow pace to pump his cock again.

"Ohh, gods." His whined against your skin, his limit already close.

"Relax.." you whispered, kissing his temple, "Relax for me, darling. Take a deep breath, and let it out. Keep breathing."

Gale did as he was told. With each expell of air he loosened the muscles surrounding his asshole. The need growing to dizzying heights.

Pressure pushed against his rim as the finger glided halfway, he gasped and clenched unconsciously.

"Breathe, Gale." You soothed, pressing soft kisses to his face, "You're handling this so well."

Further and further you pushed inside him, delicious sensation flooding his body. His body tense and limp simultaneously, as the pleasure radiated through him from his pulsating walls.

"Fuck." He barely managed.

He kissed your neck and sucked down on the bite marks left by Astarion. He would make his own mark on you. One that everyone would see.

You gasped, your breath catching as you rolled your hips against him, teeth lightly nipping at his ear lobe.

Gale felt the friction of your other hand reaching down between you to stimulate your own release. His urge re-doubled in it's efforts to push him higher, intoxicated by your arousal.

He could feel your desperate movements between you, lightly grazing his testicles with the back of your hand.

You surprised him by gently pinching the head of him and thumbing the slit before initiating an unyielding, rapid rhythm wrapped around his cock. Synchronizing with curling the Mage hand towards his stomach, rubbing over the knot of his prostate.

A ragged, strained noise escaped from his throat as the sensations joined, assailing him from both sides.

He pushed back against the Mage hand, taking it's digit to the hilt.

"Oh yes, that's it. Enjoy it. It's for you.. all for you." You chorused his words to you, the words he used every night to pray to your false altar.

But now he had you, truly had you.. and you were spectacular.. you could not be formed into words.. you transcendend this mortal plane.. you were.. more than Godly.. you were-

A second finger penetrated him without refute and stretched his hole, doubling the pleasure against his sweet spot inside his ass, and he cried out in sheer bliss. Your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping in jubilant rhythm combined with the thrusting of the spell deep inside him.

The precipice of orgasm gripped him like a vice and choked him of all other need, apart from that to cum.

In that moment of blessed eternity, the world was narrowed down to nothing more than you and him. A vaccum in existence bathed in magical light.

Rapture split through every atom of his existence, building and climbing in a torrent of unstable energy.

"Yes, Gale-yes-come. Come with me."

His mouth open, panting like a rabid dog, he lost himself entirely.

He roared and strained and gasped, as he shot thick ropes all over your torso. His asshole squeezed and clenched tightly on the digits deliciously stuffed inside him working his orgasm longer. Your skilled hand milking every last drop from him.

He gulped for breath as you cried out underneath him, jerking against your own hand, breathless and exhilarated.

He watched you come undone underneath him, eyes screwed, mouth gaping, then biting down to quieten your moans.

Dear gods, you looked exquisite.

He reached a hand between you both to feel the after effects of your rhapsody, you twitched and laughed through a smile, as he stroked your sensitive sex in the wake of orgasm, riding you longer like you were to him.

"Stopstopstop-too much." You barely gasped against his sweat laden forehead.

There you lay, for what seemed like an easy age, together.

Aftershocks struck you both as you lay together in your joined euphoria.

The Mage hand had disappeared and left him feeling pleasantly sore from the hectic pace.

Gale pushed himself up onto his forearm, extracating his hand from between you. It was covered in your release, it glistened on his hand.

It was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Something he hadn't fantasied.

He glanced back to you, you also held up your hand drenched in him.

You opened your mouth, clearing indicating to feast on yourself from his fingers. His tender cock twitched with desire.

He reciprocated his mouth and you swept your digits in his mouth. He tasted himself, licking his semen clean, as you suckled your own essence from his fingers, then pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Gale moaned at the melding of you both on mating tongues. It was pure sex and exhilaration. The desire and need. The fullfilment and warmth.

The kiss broke and you smiled at him, letting out a large breath.

"That was.." He started.

"Incredible." You finished.

"That's one of many words." He mused, laughing breathlessly.

Gale pushed himself up higher, "Oh, gods." He snorted, looking down at the scene of debauchery before him and kneeled onto his heels.

You and he were both covered in cum. It was obscene how licentiously delicious you looked painted with each other.

He remembered the first time he'd cum to your image, how hollow and alone he'd felt.

But not this time.

This time he felt complete.

Like a piece of him had hurried it's way back to him after so long apart.

"Well, that's one way to let off some steam." He chuckled darkly.

"I think it's hot." You smirked, biting down on your lower lip.

Gale swallowed with difficulty, "Careful you, that's dangerous."

Gale heaved out a breath and came to grips with what had just transpired between you both. How little his imagination had been able to conceive of you. What paltry figments had been the stars of his fantasies.

He glanced down upon you; hair mussed, sweat drying on your skin, clothes rumpled and he couldn't have loved you more.

"What?" You asked in a quiet voice.

Gale shook his head, "Nothing." He feigned.

He waved his hand with a simple somantic and the evidence was gone.

"Then come down here, I'm getting cold." You stroked your hands up his arms and enveloped him into an embrace that warmed all the lost parts of his soul.

"I meant it, Gale. I won't let you destory yourself for this. We'll find another way." You nestled yourself deeper into the hug.

Gale smiled contentedly from ear to ear, "I know we will.. because now I have something to live for."

•°•°•

Part 1

Psst.. Ive got a Masterlist too 👀

[sysmedsaresexist]

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This is Mod Quill, but this is on behalf of a mutual friend of mine and Mod Dude's. Someone we care about a lot, and someone I'm not even going to fucking name here, because I am so fucking done with my friend suffering. Besides. You're going to know who it is if you have a lick of syscourse knowledge. I just hope they know what this might bring. If you're reading this, hon -- maybe just... delete your blogs and get out of syscourse. Make something new for yourself. Trust me, I've done that plenty of times.

Anyways.

@sophieinwonderland

Let's have a chat. Okay? I mean this completely, 1000 percent genuinely. I want to talk to you. WE want to talk to you. And we want to understand what the hell is going on with you.

Context: A friend of ours is in the hospital. This friend is in the hospital... likely because of you. Well, somewhat -- I'm not here to convince you that you, personally, are at fault for someone else's actions. You did not personally give them whatever implement of choice they used to nearly off themselves. But you have got to see that what you're doing -- what you've done for a very, very long time, causes people a lot of harm. And you have acknowledged it. Repeatedly.

You know that you do. You know you're hurting people. And you've shown constantly on your blog that you're okay with that.

This isn't the first time someone has been hospitalized after you took grievance with their tumblr blog. This is the second time someone has notably been hospitalized after interactions with you, and far from the last time someone's harmed themselves over you. I should know -- I'm a user who tried so desperately not to self harm, but you are the person who brought me to that point, many moons ago in a fit of hell and despair.

Don't worry, I'm all good -- it was barely anything. But it still stings emotionally, to this day.

The user in question who's currently hospitalized is not, and has not been stable, for a very long time. They're someone I hold dear, but I think we can all admit that people with DID sometimes struggle greatly with making really dumb choices. They've made a lot. This isn't the first time they've been in the hospital.

But Dude made a promise to them when it seemed like things were going to hell this time around, something to try and encourage things to go the right way.

Your named was tossed out too. Because of course it was. Like it or not, Sophie, you are 100% the biggest syscourser on Tumblr. You post the most and have the most followers. You are syscourse. And Dude's promise was to take syscourse down.

... But I don't think anyone in this situation really understands what that means.

Sophie, you are a person. Not a blog. Not a stance. Not a slogan, or a preacher, or whatever conspiracy you're trying to lean into next to explain away the angry actions you've shown more and more lately, to somehow explain why it's okay to say the things you've been saying, even when it sometimes, just maybe, seems like... you just don't want to.

As people may know, a (from my perspective, horrifically written, incredibly inaccurate, and only harmful) callout post for Sophie was recently posted to syscourse. What people don't know is that I, Mod Quill, was approached to help write it. Mod Dude was involved in the callout post as well, though to what extent I don't know.

I flat out refused to work on it. And that's because I knew exactly what would happen. I knew my friend would be hurt, or maybe even hospitalized over this. I knew that syscourse -- that Sophie -- would drive someone over the edge again. I knew that the document -- filled with inaccuracies and vaguities and nothingburgers to the max -- would be easy for Sophie to pick apart, easy to dismantle, and it would all start with debunking so much of the very real pain and suffering my friend has gone through.

And yeah.

I was right. Go figure. Maybe I should've done more, my brain inevitably says, I need to help everyone, I should've fought harder to prevent this... Dumbass brain.

Sigh.

Dude edit/addition: I knew the doc was coming, and while I won't say that I was supportive of it going out (I made the owner sit on it for several weeks), I made no effort to stop it. Having made my own callouts on sophie (and Quill, you have, too), I understood the need, and the positives and negatives. I knew Sophie could handle it. I was approached to read and check it, as my posts had been used in it. I even offered to help add to it, though... I ended up being completely unable to. I still can't actually remember anything in the doc. I'm doubting if I actually read it because it seems I retained nothing from it. This likely stems from the fact that I have been in contact with Sophie for several weeks now, getting to know her. I'm so incredibly conflicted on this topic that I chose to stay out of it publicly from start to finish, without comment or publicity. For the first time since I started my blog, I'm not feuding with anyone, I'm having such amazing conversations with people, I feel like I'm making more of a difference than ever before. Certain people have left me alone as I stayed under the drama radar.

I'm so tired of being angry...

My thoughts on the doc and sophie are complicated. I'm sorry to anyone that was hurt through my uncertainty. Instead of helping with the doc, we talked about life, experiences, medicalization, and I was... so happy. I don't think that I really thought beyond... "I wish I had spoken to some of these people sooner."

It's important to note that I don't blame the doc or author for any of this.

Syscourse, as a whole, does not address any sort of recovery, or help, or even just acknowledgement of the issues we are facing, as human beings, as systems, as people on this earth. It is just slinging words at each other with varying degrees of value. And I'll be the first to admit that I have relished that battleground. I have loved the feeling that I might be able to throw the right words or the right punches and get someone to either change, or deactivate. I've also wrestled with those feelings, tried to explain them away, mirroring what I see on Sophie's blog constantly.

But as more and more time goes on and I grow up and I see the damage that's done to me and my friends, I have grown to absolutely despise this place. I try my best to spread what joy I can. I also know it's really not enough.

Sophie, I have sent you, if I had to hazard a guess, at least 10 anons this past year, all of them variations on themes. Either positivity, begging you to take a break, or explaining to you in excruciating detail how I know you are hurting people, and why that hurts so badly. And... each and every single one of those have been met with dismissal. With that godforsaken shrug emoji that convinced me for years that you just... did not care, at all, about other people.

And this isn't just you. I know I'm coming at you, but that's because you are the biggest source of Syscourse Grief(tm) for this particular friend. But lord knows people get enemies here, that's just par for the course. So, this goes for everyone.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

God, this really is a ramble. I thank everyone who's bearing with me.

For syscourse in general: Stop. Just... stop. For those who are considering it, just stop for a bit, and witness. Watch. See what happens. Because the ones who are obstinate -- primarily the overly aggressive anti-endos and pro-endos -- will fling their vitriol at each other. It will just get worse and worse, and you can witness syscourse eat itself alive.

For my friend in the hospital: I've already given you some advice, but genuinely, I really, really hope you take care of yourself. I pray that, when you get back, you maybe set syscourse aside. At most, discord is there, and that seems to at least be tamer. But you are young. You have so much future ahead, and coming from someone who is (unfortunately seen as) an older system, I can promise you that it gets beter.

For Dude: GO TAKE A FUCKING BREAK. You are recently retraumatized, recently through a severe surgery, and you are out here promising shit like "I'll burn syscourse to the ground for you"??? Play a fun game and pay attention to your fucking partners, take a fucking break and take care of yourself. Syscourse will wait for you. People will come and people will go, and it doesn't fucking matter. Your life is what matters and I'm so fucking scared watching you obsess over this one, small aspect of it. I'm so relieved you went to that fun pokemon blog. You aren't alone, you are so loved, and don't let this toxic ass place make you forget that.

And Sophie.

I'm going to give Dude a link to send to you. You don't have to take it if you don't want to. You don't even need to acknowledge this if you don't want to. But I'm swinging the door open and offering the olive branch. I know you don't use Discord much, but for gods sake, it's better than Tumblr DMs, and we both know how Tumblr is a mess.

I really hope you'll take me up on it.

And for everyone else.

Wait till you see what happens next.

Edit from Mod Quill: Well, what's next is evidently a need for clarification and yet another callout post. Hello, callout-post author. Thank you for your clarifications. Notably, I attempted to keep your URL out of this, for those who didn't know.

Anyways, for the fullest disclosure and context: I was approached by Mod Dude, who asked if I wanted to participate in "Sophie Drama, Anonymously." I agreed, though I'll admit I was hesitant due to my particular issues with that user. I was then added to a group chat involving an enormous callout post. Notably, it should be mentioned, callout posts are a major trigger of ours that we are still working on overcoming.

I clicked the document and saw it was a mess of grammar mistakes, poor formatting, and impossible for me to read without trembling. But given that I already have an intense distaste for the user who posted it, I wasn't about to tell them more personal details about myself, and I did not want to communicate with them any further due to my own fear of the instability of all those involved. I told them I disliked the callout post due to harassment that it would cause, that I feel Sophie is a person, and that they had better have contacted the user who was hurt -- who is once again revealed in the callout, unfortunately.

I tried to laugh it off and move on, and take care of my mental health. That's what I was lamenting above; the fact that I didn't say more. I felt bad that I didn't allow myself to damage my mental health further to craft a callout post -- something I have tried desperately to avoid since the one I made the mistake of writing years ago about the very user you wrote this callout post about -- and something I get roped into constantly.

I privately read the rest of the document after it had been posted in full, as I still have access to it and it is a publicly posted document. It was filled with things that I found to be either nothing important in particular (things that have already been discussed numerous times) or things that would just be inflammatory (i.e. the OAS sections). I talked with a friend on Discord about the document, to which we both agreed it was bad.

To the OP of the document: I didn't say any of this at the time because, as I said, I felt uneasy and could not be in that group chat. I explicitly said I would not be touching "it" (the group chat). I was taking care of my mental health.

I refused to work on it because, based on my past experiences and triggers, which I do not owe you and still alluded to anyways in my conversations with you, I knew it would end poorly. I tried my best to sway you in the moment, but I was not able to do so because of my own mental health.

So, yes, to clarify: My grievances with the document were not made known to the one who posted it, whom I never mentioned in the original post. I do not condemn the poster of the document. I was simply making my feelings about callout posts known. What is above is not a condemnation of the callout writer, nor a comment on them at all. I genuinely did not want the point of this post to be lost due to callout-post drama.

So let me reiterate the important part of all of this.

This post was about the state of syscourse and how people do not approach syscourse in a good way. It is constantly slinging hate at people, which is never justified.

Learn to fucking care about each other, for fucks sakes.

---

Mod dude, here...

I want to add something to this, but I don't know what. I mean, Quill said it all, quite well.

Hurt people... Hurt other people.

I've made the attempt, over the last year or so, to actually talk to some of the bigger names in syscourse, the ones usually active in the tags, endos and antis alike.

It reinforced that... we're all just fucking people, trying to get by.

Antis, have you even tried to empathize with the community you attack so quickly and cruelly? Imagine if people said those things to you or about CDD systems. Have you, personally, witnessed the things you claim are happening? Because I've been here a lot longer, and it seems you're making shit up. Consider that you should stop parroting everything you hear and stick to what you're actually seeing with your own eyes.

Endos, please don't forget that these are severely traumatized individuals that have probably never even been to therapy yet. If you're not yet, maybe you should get into therapy-- it doesn't automatically mean there's anything wrong, but everyone could use someone to talk to, and seeing what it's like could be really beneficial to understanding the other side and getting an unbiased view of your own behavior and beliefs.

These are real fucking people that are ending up in the hospital.

Quill, the rest of my mods, and I are real fucking people behind these screens.

Sophie is a real person. They just got a new dish washer that they saw on Circ's blog, I missed it, but she linked it to me, and now I'm looking at it. She's going to let me know how it works.

And you know what? This little countertop dishwasher feels a hell of a lot more real and important than anything in syscourse.

As Quill mentioned, I just went through a major surgery. I'm learning that...

I'll probably never be able to walk properly again. My life is forever changed, and I'm really struggling.

My cat just... passed. Feel free to go like that post, it would mean a lot to me.

None of you know that. The people who leaked my main and smeared my wonderful name don't know that.

Sophie didn't know that the last time we fought each other.

My friend didn't know that when I promised him I would bring syscourse down.

Maybe bringing it down isn't the answer.

Maybe just reminding you all that we're all people behind the screen is enough.

Fucking TALK to each other.

Make an attempt to learn and understand.

Talk about things that actually matter.

Grow the FUCK up.

Reblog to share a hug, because that's more worthwhile.

And most importantly.

Please keep our friend in mind while they're in the hospital.

Syscourse community, endos and antis, this is one of our own. A person you've likely interacted with before, that you've seen around.

We exist in this small bubble, all together. Whether we like it or not.

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - ln4 / ch. 5

Italy through Canada. A few people make observations, Olivia makes a huge realization, a few too drinks are shared, and Oscar starts to get a little bit more concerned when Ollie seems a bit... off. Until she snaps and tells him everything.

piastri!oc x lando norris, brothers bestfriend/fake dating

warnings/notes: alcohol/drinking, pretty intense kissing/makeout scene, still probably some incorrect f1 info but look, im trying. its a BIT summary-ish this chapter, but only because there's a few small bites from each race, everything will really be kicking off next chapter >:D! (I apologize in advance)

prev | next

MAY 20TH 2023 -- ITALY

Italy had passed in a blur of media obsession, cameras constantly on me and everything I did. Hell, I would breathe too hard and someone would post about it. Keeping everything quiet had been getting harder and harder now that Twitter was fully convinced Lando and I were dating, even if we hadn't announced it yet. We still had a while to go until our 'relationship' would be officially announced by us on fucking live television, something I still couldn't get over. And my heart ache was starting to get more prevalent as the whole situation was starting to confuse my heart and my brain, making me actually think Lando liked me.

But that kiss? Come on.

McLaren's social media team had Lando and Oscar out almost the whole weekend when they weren't racing, they were doing practically everything for the media team this weekend since we all knew Monaco was going to be crazy for us. Between it being one of the, in my opinion, busiest race weekends due to its hyper-publicity. And as we knew this, we (as in Me, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Daniel and Max) had plans for a party at a club in Monaco. As more drivers found out about the plan it ended up with us renting out some private rooms for all the teams and their drivers in this one club Charles and Arthur allegedly swore by. It was going to be one hell of a party.

So, since I had no Oscar or Lando to bother, I had somehow ended up in Max's hotel room with Charles and Daniel. We were happily splitting bottles of the most expensive wine we could order to his room and talking about anything and everything. We had talked about the season so far, everyones families back home (with another very interesting Max childhood story that had us all questioning his mental health for the thirtieth time this week) and we were currently discussing media.

I had mentioned not going on Twitter due to everything being crazy, and three heads turned to look at me. Max has Charles' head in his lap, the latter poking my thigh as he giggled, cheeks flushed from the drinks as he asks, "Speaking of, how was Seaspice?"

"I need to know!" Daniel shouts, turning so fast he nearly knocks himself over and I snort from where I'm curled up on the couch in one of Lando's hoodies. I had taken it forever ago and just never gave it back, not that Lando had asked for it or even seemed to mind.

"It was really nice." I murmur, cheeks warming up as I swirl my wine, "I don't think we stopped talking the whole time. He opened the door for me, got my chair, paid for dinner. This motherfucker bought me flowers? And left them at the hotel. And a Coach purse and chucks! And he was so fucking nice. I just... I had a really good time and we talked about basically everything. Which means he knows the most about me now, other than Oscar."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Max smiles and Charles nods enthusiastically, leaning up to take a sip of his wine before laying back down.

"Lando told me a bit about it." Daniel pops down on the couch next to me, poking Charles on the shoulder who whines and throws his arm dramatically over his eyes, making us all chuckle softly. His wine must've not been settling nicely, which I thought was odd for a man from Monaco of all places. Or he was just being dramatic.

"What'd Lando say?" Max hums, taking a sip of his wine as we all settle into a mess of tangled limbs.

"Just like, that he was totally in love with her the whole time and practically drooling over her." Daniel shrugs, "he's head over fuckin' heels."

My heart flutters at the sentiment, even if it know Lando's declarations of love are all fake for the media. Every little joke, every date, every hand hold or kiss or flirting joke, everything we were was for the media. At the end of the day Lando and I couldn't have each other. He was in this for the media just as much as I was, it was a contract we had signed and though Christian had said I could back out at any time, I was sure there would be consequences if I did.

Not that I wanted to go back on Lando, or this fake relationship, or anything. Not that I knew why. Maybe it was just because I loved the feeling of being loved.

OLIVIAPIASTRI POSTED A NEW STORY! ↴

MAY 26TH -- MONACO

I was surprised when Max had brought me along with him and Charles for dinner at Charles' mothers house. Pascale was a sweetheart, doting over us and making sure we were all well fed and settled. I also had a chance to meet Charles' siblings, finally. Arthur and I realizing how much we had in common as we sat at the long dining table, easily cracking jokes about being the younger sibling in the same career as their older brother.

And the whole never being able to live up to their older siblings thing, but that was more undertones.

Maybe ten minutes into dinner, while I'm halfway through my fift glass of wine that night, Pascale asks, "So, Olivia, how is Lando? I've seen quite a bit about you two."

I laugh softly, setting down my fork as I explain softly, "He's a sweetheart. I've been with him for only a few months and it's really been bliss. This man won't let me buy anything on my own, won't let me open doors, gives me his jacket, texts me all the time, calls me all the time. He's doting over me twenty four hours of the day, it's really sweet. We're just not really saying anything on social media yet since it's still a pretty new relationship."

"And she says its not serious." Charles murmurs as he takes a sip from his wine, Max ends up whacking Charles on the back of the head as Pascale laughs into the back of her hand.

"Charles, I will kick you." I scowl, and immediately after Arthur jerks up and Charles shouts in complaint. I burst into giggles when I realize Arthur has done my work for me.

"Dude! Foutre le camp!" His sudden french makes me pause as I try to decipher what he said. Max is immediately laughing as Pascale reaches across the table to yank on her sons ear as she reprimands him and then reprimands Arthur, who is just out of arms distance thanks to me.

"Désolé, Maman." The Leclerc's echo and luckily the rest of dinner goes off without a round of complaints from their mother. But I can't stop thinking. I had been in this sort of spiral about liking Lando, and the drinks and telling myself I was just in love with what he was doing and the way it made me feel wasn't helping. And so, as I always do, I call my oldest sister.

MAY 26TH -- CALL BETWEEN OLIVIA AND OPHELIA↴

"Ophelia."

"Olivia?"

"I need advice."

"That's what I'm here for."

"You... okay, you can't tell Oscar any of this."

"Woah, this serious?"

"Yeah, uhm. So, the Lando stuff, it's... media shit. For McLaren and Red Bull. They want it to seem like Max and Lando don't like each other or something, I dunno. But we're fake dating for media."

"Oh."

"But I... I don't know something about it is bothering me. I... I can't shake it. I can't stop thinking about everything he's been doing, the gifts, the date--we kissed, like, really good and I... fuck. Am I stupid for thinking about this so much?"

"Do you like him, Ollie?"

"Well, yeah obviously. But I think I mostly like him because I like the way it feels to be loved. Like--"

"--Do you think of his actions or of him more?"

"Uhm..." "Him?"

"Ollie. Do you think you could be in love with him?"

"No! It's... its for media."

"You think about everything he does, and the kiss, and you like the way it feels to be loved."

"Yeah."

"He buys you flowers all the time, holds the doors for you, you constantly say he's the nicest guy you've ever met, you've already defended him in the siblings group chat and he's bought you a fucking Coach bag."

"Because of the media!"

"Buying you a Coach bag is not for the media! And Lando hates seafood, yet he took you to Seaspice because everyone knows you love seafood!"

...

"Olivia, look... [sigh], I've seen the photos posted and the way he looks at you, touches you, speaks with you, everything... he's in fucking love with you. Seriously, you cannot fake that. Unless he's an incredible actor, which--he's not. I've seen his interviews."

"Uh--"

"And you, missy. You're in the same boat! If you didn't like him the way you do, you wouldn't be calling me in a panic about this."

"What do you mean?"

"You love him. He loves you. Regardless of if you want it or not."

"Oh..."

"There it is."

"Oh. Fuck."

MAY 27TH -- MONACO

"That's Charles with p3, Lando with p2, and Max--again, with the p1 position!"

I was sitting cross legged, tapping my nails along the desk as I was working on saving all the data from Max's car from the race. Something was weird with his front suspension, but he managed to push through to the end. Lando almost got him in the last turn but at the cost of a spring and a shock, Max kept his position. Checo had done just as well, and Kylie next to me was uploading his data and happily chatting about how the race went with some of the other engineers before they all start getting up. I laugh softly, watching them as they start to cheer and clamber around.

"Olivia! Finish that up later, c'mon!" One of the engineers calls and I laugh, slipping off my chair as I shove my phone into my pocket and follow Kylie out of the garage. A crowd of engineers, analysts, and drivers moving in a group to celebrate the pole positions. I take my time, ending up with Oscar at some point as we cheer for all three racers. I can feel the cameras on me and it's starting to get a bit annoying. I just want to celebrate my friends, I had taken a back log role because I didn't want to deal with the fame of F2, F1, any motorsports as a whole. I was just as good as a racer as Oscar as a kid, but I knew what I would get into if I went with him. So I didn't.

And yet, somehow I still ended up here.

Max comes over to give me a hug, and I waste no time throwing my arms around him in congratulations. He laughs, squeezing me tight before stepping back as I whack his helmet three times, a little good luck thing we had started a while back.

"I'm killing you for breaking your shocks and like half the front suspension." I joke and he rolls his eyes, playfully whacking my arm as Oscar gives him a few slaps on the shoulder as he says congratulations.

"No, no, blame Lando." He says, and him saying the racers name has more cameras turn to us and Max's grimace lets me know I'm not doing well at hiding my annoyed face. He gives me a final hug as Lando appears to give Oscar and the rest of the McLaren team besides me hugs as Max turns to him.

"Let me pass you sometime!" Lando grins and the two share a quick hug to celebrate.

"Maybe next time, Norris!" Max grins, turning to the pull of Christian's voice, and I laugh as he's tugged into the arms of the engineers. Turning back to look at Oscar, I make eye contact with Lando, who (once I nod that it's fine) happily pulls me into his arms.

And I hate that that's when I hear the most camera shutters.

"Congratulations, Lando." I murmur into our tight hug. After a moment of quiet, he leans back and I smile at him, wholeheartedly, as I can see him smile as he squeezes my arms.

"Thanks, Ollie." We hold eye contact and I just smile before he squeezes my hands before coming up to pull of his helmet, "Hey, you're coming to the club tonight, right?"

"Yeah, of course." I say, holding a hand out to hold his helmet as he takes off his balaclava. Once he has it off, he keeps messing with his hair until I lift my own hand to his hair and run it through and fix it up. One of his hands falls to my waist, the other still holding his helmet as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to get this trimmed." I murmur, and then he leans down to give me another hug as his breath is hot against my neck, his adams apple rumbling against my shoulder.

"Nah. If I get it cut then you can't run your hands through it anymore." He steps back when he's told he needs to go along to the podium and I hand him back his things, squeeze his hand three times, and then let him go off on his way.

"And you said it was never serious?" Oscar murmurs to me and I turn around and whack at him, telling him off in a sharp whisper as I sneer at him as the few McLaren employees around us laugh.

MAY 27TH-28TH -- JIMMY'S MONTE CARLO, MONACO

By the time Oscar and I make it to the back room of the club, the party is--and has been in full swing. He's pretty much immediately stolen from my side by Logan and Alex. So, I find the bar and get myself a vodka Red Bull to wash down my exhaustion and wake me up as I then slowly slink back to the room. I can see Charles and Max off to the side, Lewis dragging Daniel and Carlos along with him, and I send a half wave to Checo who raises his drink to me in a toast which I echo as I laugh, scanning the room and spotting the likes of Alonso, George, Lance, Pierre and Logan all off on their own tipsy adventures.

"There she is!" Two arms wrap around my waist and I squeal as Lando spins me around. Once he sets my feet down, he buries his face in the crook of my neck and he squeezes me in his arms. The conversation with Ophelia rings in my head--did I love him? And though I know I do, I try and swallow the feeling like the burn of the vodka in my throat.

I can't have Lando. No matter how much I want to have him.

"I told you I was coming, Norris." I laugh, turning in his grasp so I can give him a proper hug. He lets out a deep sigh against my chest before he leans back and grins, keeping his hands on my waist as I finish off my drink and set the cup on a nearby table.

"I know, but I'm glad you're here." He smiles, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath and grin when he pulls me a bit closer. I let him, even in the crowded club knowing everyone who knows of us will probably take photos. I let it happen because I know part of me wants the feeling of him loving me, even if its all a lie.

"C'mon, get another drink, lets celebrate." He murmurs under the music and I grin, taking him by the hand and going to the bar. I learn then its an open bar, and I happily order the most expensive shots I can, take three of them, and then order another heavily alcohol filled fruity drink. They put one of those cup covers on it, with a straw, and Lando brings me to the edge of the dance floor.

"Yo! Piastri!" someone shouts and I wave as Daniel drags over Max and Charles. Everyone seems hammered already, and in the moment I thank god for being a lightweight so I can catch up quickly. The shots already making my skin buzz.

"Dani, how are ya?" I ask, moving myself to the music a little. We talk, and even as we do I can't focus on anything other than Lando's hands on my waist as he holds me to his chest in the crowd. It's something so small, but just the way he's being protective of me makes my chest pound as I finish up my drink and set it on a nearby table.

"Come on, lets dance!" I say to the group, and while the others day they're fine, Lando lets me drag him onto the dance floor. I have no idea what song is playing, it's French, but the words could matter less. Lando's hands stay firm on my waist, when someone gets to close he moves us away, and when I turn and wrap my arms around his neck in a flirty, drunken haze, he leans down to pepper kisses to the corners of my mouth. My body is on fire, both form the warmth of the vodka and such in my chest, but from the feeling of the way his hands press lower on my waist and he drags me closer.

I don't know when we end up at the bar after dancing, but the next thing I remember is Lando sitting next to me on a stool as we take shots and eat chips given to us by the bartender who can definitely tell we're a little too drunk. I lean onto Lando's arm, gently tracing shapes as I listen to him talk about... something, I don't remember, his hand on my thigh warm and protective. He leans over to press a soft kiss to my lips, and I let him. His lips peck mine, then my cheeks, and then he presses in for a proper kiss. He slots there like he's meant to be, the hand on my thigh pulling me closer and one hand sliding down to grab the bottom of my chair and as he leans back from a kiss, he drags my chair closer.

My heart just about jumps to my throat as his hand lets go of the chair, ghosts the inside of my thigh and along my jugular as he drags his hand up to cup my chin, and he pulls me in by his thumb on my jaw for another round of deep kisses. One of my hands ends up tangling in his hair, and when Lando partially leans over me, my arm snakes across his shoulders with my nails dragging across the thing fabric of his shirt.

I would be embarrassed of the close contact if we weren't as drunk as we were and also in the back, dark corner of a bar.

When he presses in further, almost hungry, I lean back and press my hand to his chest as I try and catch my breath. He leans back finally, wiping lipstick off his lips with a tiny grin as he also tries to catch his breath with a sly smile.

"Woah there, casanova." I breathlessly tease and he whines. Literally whines. I am so fucked.

"C'mon, baby." He sighs and I press my hand to his mouth as he tries to snag another kiss and I let myself giggle, pulling him to my side with the arm tossed around his shoulder, peppering soft kisses to his hairline and the corners of his mouth.

"We should go back to the hotel." I whisper, and his eyes widen like dinner plates, nodding as he grabs my hands and pulls me up to my feet. We drunkenly giggle as we stumble outside the club and as I call a ride share on my phone, Lando keeps himself busy by playing with my hair and kissing along my shoulder and collarbones as he hums softly into my neck. When the car comes we seperate, for the sanity of the poor driver, but Lando keeps a firm hand on my thigh.

He always needs to be touching me, or holding me, I'm beginning to notice.

Once we're in the hotel, or moreso the elevator, Lando will not get off of me. It's almost comedic, soft kisses broken by laughs and my half-hearted complaints as I try and get us to his room, because I refuse to go back to my shared room with Oscar this shitfaced and in this predicament.

Once, finally, the hotel door is closed and locked behind us, I'm pushed back against Lando's wall as his hands find my waist. His breath fans over my face and my head is tilted up by his hand that covers my neck, his thumb pushing in to force my chin up so he can cover his lips with mine.

"You're everything." he whispers, breathless, one hand on my back pulling me closer. His fingers digging into my neck and back making my body arch and lean up into his touch.

"And so are you." I whisper back, his needy lips finding mine once more.

And then I wake up the next morning.

Groaning, I shield my face from the sun piercing my eyes with my arm as my phone rings somewhere beyond my grasp. I slowly sit up, blankets untangling from me as I slowly push them away and kick the blankets off my body. My head is pounding and I feel so sick, but I manage to find my phone somewhere on the floor. I get up, bending over to grab it as I adjust my dress to pull it back down and fix its collar. I must've fallen asleep wearing it and it got hiked up.

The call ends as I fix up my outfit, but before I can panic and try to call the number back, they do it for me. So I quickly press the answer button and press the phone to my ear as I rub at my tired face.

"Hello?" I grumble into the line, fighting off a yawn as I look around the hotel room. A suit jacket lays half open over a chair, my bag and shoes set neatly on a table nearby with my jewelry set on top of my purse with mens dress shoes kicked off in front of the desk.

"Olivia! Thank god," Oscar laughs, voice slightly crackly over the phone, "Where are you?"

"Uh--" I pause, turning around in my hungover haze to see Lando poke his head out of the bathroom. He must've woken up before me, and the towel wrapped around his still wet waist tells me he just got out of the shower.

I slowly realize I don't remember anything after we got in this room, and my stomach twists as I speak softly to Oscar on the phone, "...Lando's..."

Oscar's quiet for a few moments, I can hear someone behind him shouting, and then he hums, "Ah... okay, uh, just come back to the room before two?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be." Lando and I are still holding half awkward eye contact, and I click my tongue when Oscar's quite for a while, "Okay... uhm, bye?"

"Bye."

As soon as Oscar hangs up, Lando and I continue to stare at each other for a few moments, before I ask, "do you remember last night?"

"No. I was hoping you would." He laughed softly. When my silence meets him, he pauses mid shake of his wet hair against his towel, lifting his head to look at me properly, "do you?"

I shake my head and then move into the bathroom to stand besides a still not dressed Lando. With a tilt of his head, he looks me over as he speaks softly, "I have spare clothes if you wanna shower before you go back to your room?"

I nod to him, my mouth dry as the realization we might have done more than I wanted to think of crosses my mind. Lando hands me a spare towel, and I hear him rustling in his suitcase as I pull my hair back. There's very faint hickeys along my collarbones I can assume are from Lando, from what bits and pieces of the club I remember. I know they'll get darker, and my lipstick is smeared along my face and my jawline, in lip prints I know don't match mine, so they have to be his.

"Here." Lando says, making me jump as he snaps my focus back from staring at my hickeys.

"Sorry," He grimaces and I say its fine as he hands me a change of clothes and I softly thank him as he steps back and closes the bathroom door. I take off my dress, look at my body and find a few more marks a bit deeper down my chest and am taken over by a sort of full body cringe when I notice one or two marks along my thighs.

Did we fucking sleep together?

I turn the shower on, stepping in as soon as I can get my undergarments off of me (thankful I'm still wearing them), and let the water wash sweat off my skin as I use the hotel soaps to clean myself off and wash my hair. I catalog each part of my body, and luckily come to the conclusion we had not slept together... at least fully. I can never really know how far we went if neither of us remember it, but at least it seems we didn't make too big of a mistake.

When I dry off, I hear Lando say he's running down to the lobby to grab us waters and that he'll be back. In a bit of a panic, I throw on his clothes, grab my dress and shoes, and rush back to my room while he's still out. Oscar lets me in, stuttering as he follows my quick rush through the room. He sits on the edge of his bed, watching as I throw my stuff in my suitcase.

"So--"

"--Do not, ever, mention this to anyone."

"Woah, okay, okay!" Oscar holds his hands up, "I wont. But uhm... you..."

"Nothing happened." I stand, turning back to look at Oscar, "we were just drunk and he wanted me to get home safe."

"If something did or didn't isn't any of my business, you're an adult, and honestly I'd rather not know anything about my sisters sex life, no offense. But... uh, Ollie? Why do you seem so... worried? ...Nervous, is kinda a better word for it." Oscar places a hand on my back as he comes to stand next to me as I pause and stand up to look over at him.

Sighing, I can tell he's dancing around a question, his hands fidget and he ends up rubbing my back slightly as he looks over at me and gnaws his lip. There's a long pause before he hesitates to ask, "Did he do something?"

"No, God no, Oscar." I exclaim, running a hand through my still wet hair, "I just... woke up feeling sick and you know how I get with sickness."

"Ah, right." Oscar steps back, wringing his hands and swallowing, "Uhm. Sorry for being weird about it."

"You're my brother Ossie, I'm expecting you to be a bit protective." I sigh, "But it's nothing. I promise."

"If it--God forbid, is something, please... tell me."

"I will."

I can't.

01 JUNE - SPAIN

Ada, Astrid, Christian, Andrea and Zak corral me and Lando into a random hotel room in Spain. I had kinda been expecting this to happen, because there was no way they hadn't noticed we had immediately become incredibly awkward around each other.

So they lock us in a bedroom, like we're kids in timeout, and tell us to figure it out.

"If you were worried we slept together," I start with after maybe ten minutes of silence, swallowing hard as I cross my arms over my chest, "we didn't."

"Okay, thank god. I thought we did something and you were gonna hate me forever." He sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I didn't mean to push it with you. Drunk Lando kinda doesn't know when to slow down. I also wanted to make sure you got home safe, and when you said that we should go back I think drunk me got extremely excited."

He's so much like a puppy, talking with his head down almost like his tail was tucked, and I can't help but let out a slow sigh.

"I didn't exactly stop you either, I kinda enjoyed it, dare I say," I rubbed my hands together, before muttering, "I should've talked to you then and not run out. I...that was shitty of me, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, you had every right to be freaked out, I was freaked out too." He sighs, leaning back in his chair as I tap my toes and then start to giggle at just the absolute obscurity of our situation.

"What?" Lando says and I sigh, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling.

"We are so... what are we doing? We're literally fake dating for the media teams for the companies we work for, and...Monaco? We got so into the whole fake dating thing, we literally ended up like that." I giggle. Though Lando laughs along, I sense a sort of bitterness in his tone, and I note it spoils when I say 'we got so into the whole fake dating thing' and so I quiet down. Maybe he didn't want to talk about the fake dating thing at all.

"Look, lets just go back to what we've been doing. It doesn't have to be awkward, we made a mistake, we can't change it." Lando says and I nod, watching the way his adam's apple bobs as he speaks, then I look away when he notices me watching him.

"Yeah." I say, then look back at him, "Let's just go back to normal."

When I get back to the Red Bull garage, I can't help but keep thinking of Lando and everything that had happened. I had this huge stupid crush on this guy who probably, as far as I was aware, wanted nothing to do with me in that sense. We only ever kissed when we were tipsy or blackout drunk, so that didn't do much to solidify any feelings that he actually liked me like I liked him. So, I end up burying my head in my arms and sitting with one knee up to my chest and close my eyes and groan. I hadn't expected anyone to be around, until someone sits next to me and I peek over to see Max.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothin'." I grumble, hiding my face again.

"Something happened, because the last time you sat like this in Red Bull was when your ex tried to date Oaklynn." Max hums, rubbing a warm hand across my shoulders and I groan, whacking his arm half-heartedly.

"Don't remind me, that was so fucking stupid." I murmur into my sleeve, kicking at Max under the table, and he yelps in complaint.

"Mon cher!" A voice shouts from the other end of the garage, and why Charles is here is beyond me before he pauses behind Max and clicks his tongue, "why do you look so upset?"

"She won't say." Max turns around to look at Charles who hums, and then I see he sets down some coffees on a table nearby before coming to lean opposite of me on the table.

"Hey, Piastri." He whispers, "Piastri. Hey. Ollie, Olls, Oliver, Olivia, Liv, Livy, Liver--"

"I think she gets the point." Max laughs, swatting at Charles, before poking my arm, "Are you gonna tell me whats wrong?"

"I'm fine." I sit up, sighing heavily as I lean forward on the table and snap, "you guys are fucking dramatic."

"Woah!" Max puts his hands up with wide eyes and Charles gasps sharply as he stands up from the table, pointing at me.

"Hey! We are not!"

"Then leave me alone!" I stand up, moving away to the office I used in the Spa garage and slammed my door a bit too hard. I groan and toss myself down into my chair and bury my head in my hands. Trying to shake Lando out of my head is impossible when the bundle of flowers he'd bought me for the paddocks here is sitting in the trash can by my feet, and this time three heads poke into my office.

"Ay, what did you do now?"

"Does Ferrari not want their drivers at all?!" I shout, lifting my head to see Carlos poking his head out from the doorway with both Charles and Max besides him.

"No, now what happened, cariño?"

"Nothing! Literally nothing!" I groan, "I just--it's nothing."

"Ah! It's something!" Max points and Carlos steps into the office and crosses his arms as he looks around. It doesn't take him long to notice the flowers, which he points at as he turns back to Max and Charles.

"She threw out Lando's flowers. Trouble in paradise." He says.

"What did Lando do?!" "What did he do? I'll beat his--"

"Oh my god! Enough, all three of you! Go, shoo! Bye! Adios! Au revoir! Doei! Buh-bye! Ciao! Get the fuck out!" I wave them out, pushing them before I shut and lock my office door, pressing my back to it and groaning as I slide down to sit.

Thirty minutes later, when I'm halfway through a report, someone knocks at the door.

"Who is it?!" I shout, lifting my head up from my laptop.

"Oscar."

Seriously? They had to get Oscar involved?

"Come in." I say, and then he jiggles the lock twice as if to emphasize the fact that the door was still locked from after I kicked out the previous trio of drivers trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Hold on." I sigh, standing up and walking over to unlock the offices door to let Oscar into the room. As soon as he's walking in, I pace back to my desk as I ripped out my ponytail and threw it back up messily as the room felt hot even with two fans going on me. I knew it was because of my stress from work and Lando's bullshit, and also, just because of the abnormal high heat in Spain this season.

"You threw out his flowers." Oscar comments as he shuts and locks the door, making his way over to sit on the edge of my desk. I hum in response and he sighs, looking over me with a careful look before he lifts a hand to card through my hair as he mutters, "talk to me, Ollie."

"It's nothing." I sigh as my eyes flicker up to look at him, "Just work."

"Ollie, this isn't how you act after work stresses you out. And this weird attitude has been going on since Saudi, so don't try and act like it's nothing." Oscar crosses his arms as he slips off my desk to walk aimlessly through my small office, "You've been distracted, all giggly and happy when we're racing or doing anything with it, but the second we get far away from it you get all spacey. Especially since the last night in Monaco. It's like you've been stuck in your head since you started dating Lando."

"Ossie..."

"No! Stop--" He pinches his nose as he whips around to face me, pausing when he notices I jump, "Olivia. What is going on with you? What has been happening this whole season? What has Lando done?"

"He hasn't done anything!" I shout, "Stop, oh my god."

"Really? Because he hasn't been able to look me in the eye since Monaco! And I don't know if its just because I still see you as my baby sister, but I'm starting to get a little fuckin' worried. It's not a good sign when the guy your sister is dating won't make eye contact with you, especially if he's one of your closest friends."

There's a pause and I groan, saving my work before burying my head in my hands, "I can't tell you."

"Olivia. What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything other than what we've been told to fucking do, because--" I stand to match my brother, watching as he steps back from the desk to give me space, "Listen, you can't repeat this."

"Why?"

"I signed a contract, a partial NDA."

"Partial NDA?"

"Just listen," I whine and Oscar nods, before I spill everything to him. From Christian's office in Bahrain, all the way to a few hours before in the random hotel room. I tell him every feeling, every thought, every decision that had been made by Red Bull and McLaren's media teams. Everything I felt for Lando, the way my heart fluttered and buttflies filled my stomach, and the way I felt so stupid because I fell in love with a guy I couldn't have even if I wanted it so bad.

Oscar is quiet for a while after I finish, and I slowly sink down to my seat and bury my head in my hands once more as I snip, "Do you see why?"

"Zak and Andrea agreed to this?" Is his first question, "No, sorry, this was their idea?"

"Partially."

"What the fuck. Okay, so, they're having you and Lando date to prove that Lando and Max hate eachother?" His voice is sharper than I've ever heard. Oscar's always been quiet, respectful, and even if I've seen him behind closed doors, I've never seen him like this.

"Yep." Is all I can muster in sarcastic response.

Oscar turns, and laughs with this look of absolute incredulity, "What the fuck does Max have to do with you?"

"I don't even know!" I shout and start laughing, hiding my face in my hands, "I don't even know, Oscar. Like? Is it because I'm close with Max outside of racing?"

"I mean, you are like one of the only non-racers who hangs out with us outside of the races." Oscar shrugs, sitting next to me on my desk and carding through my hair as he lets me rest my forehead against his thigh, "but...I just can't believe you both agreed to this. I can't believe how quickly you both did."

"They didn't threaten me, but it felt kinda..."

"It felt forced because they're your bosses and you don't wanna lose your job."

"Yep."

Oscar sighs, then pokes my nose, "Look, as long as he's not hurting you, I don't care what you do. But this is kinda stupid. Are you really fake dating him?"

I nod.

"Like, you both don't have actual romantic feelings for eachother and are just doing this for the money?" I hesitate to nod and Oscar laughs, "I love you, Ollie, I do, but you're such a shit liar and Lando can't hide his emotions for shit. You both clearly like eachother."

"We have to look like we like eachother for media--"

"You are so in denial! I see it in your eyes!"

"Oh, but you have room to talk, Mr. Oscar 'Heart Eyes' Piastri?"

"Hey!"

16 JUNE, CANADA

OLIVIAPIASTRI POSTED A NEW STORY! ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI POSTED A NEW POST ↴

oliviapiastri: a wonderful weekend for my boys <3 love u all sm

ferawri: HER BOYS??? HER BOYS?? HERS???

redbwings: lando has been posted above max everyone, rb fans everywhere lose </3

oscarpiastri: didnt even post a podium pic of my face

oliviapiastri: i still work for rb regardless of how much u drag me to mclaren

landonorris: and i still cannot believe u chugged both of those redbulls

oliviapiastri: im fuckin CRAZYYYY

oaklynnpiastri: she does that quite often

maxverstappen: the flowers...

charlesleclerc: the way i was just about to comment something

charlesleclerc: @ carlossainz come look

carlossainz: omg no more trouble in paradise guys :D!

oliviapiastri: i'm never letting u guys into my office again ( @ scuderiaferrari come get ur drivers from the rb paddock before i kill them pretty pls <3 )

scuderiaferrari: RUNNING!!!

LANDONORRIS POSTED A NEW POST↴

landonorris: thank u canada, see u soon GB. I'm coming for p1.

oliviapiastri: AND U DIDNT SEND ME THAT PICTURE U BITCH

landonorris: SORRY I TOOK IT LIKE TWO SECONDS BEFORE POSTING !!!!!

maxverstappen: never gonna happen

landonorris: im gonna crashgate you max

oscarpiastri: MEDIA TRAINING LANDO MEDIA TRAINING!!!

landonorris: I AM NOT GOING TO CRASHGATE THIS. LEGALLY THAT WAS A JOKE.

mclaren: someone come get our drivers pls.

roscoefanacc: so he posts olivia.... strange man.

opheliapiastri: @ oaklynnpiastri look.

oaklynnpiastri: ✍✍✍

oscarpiastri: pls help me u two

opheliapiastri: skill issue.

liked by oaklynnpiastri, landonorris

carlossainz: go lando go

-

Somehow I end up with Daniel, Carlos, Charles, Max, and Lando in Oscar and I's hotel room. I've got probably six hundred dollars in drinks alone spread throughout the room, and I'm half laying in Lando's lap as Oscar recounts some story from back home. And as I take a sip of my drink, Lando comments to the story of Oscar's ex-girlfriend,

"Better than what Ollie and I are doing."

I spit the drink out, luckily into the glass and turn around to whack him while he shouts complaints, "Hey! You told all your siblings, we can tell these guys!"

"We aren't supposed to tell anyone!" I complain, laying back on him lap and jabbing my nail into his thigh, causing him to yelp in complaint.

"So, what are you guys doing?" Carlos asked, taking a good sized gulp of his drink, and once I've sworn a room full of drunk men to secrecy or castration, Lando and I indulge them in the truth fo our relationship. It goes like some sort of sports play-by-play, like we're the stars and they're the announcers, calling out everything they can think of.

"Wait, wait--so what happens if they find out you're telling people?" Daniel asks, eyes still wide in realization and I shrug.

"We probably lose a cut of the money we would've made off this whole stunt." Lando hums, "but honestly, money or not, this whole experience has been a lot of fun. Olivia's good company."

"So all the heart eyes I see you two shoot at each other are fake? How the hell are you so convincing!" Charles exclaims and both Carlos and Max back him up. I can't offer a proper explanation, so I just shrug and laugh. The conversation carries us through the time everyones leaving, other than Lando who had decided finishing a bottle of Bacardi by himself was a good idea and was now laying face first on the floor. I wasn't too far behind him, but able to make myself look sober enough to bid our friends goodbye at the door.

Max catches my arm before he leaves, phone on call with Kelly loosely in his other hand as he speaks softly, "Please don't feel like you have to date Lando because of this whole thing. Christian gave you a way out if you need it."

"We'll be okay." I laugh softly, looking back at sleepy Lando, who Oscar's trying to coax onto the couch where he might be a bit more comfy.

"Well, if anything, know you two at least sell everything really well." He grins and then Carlos and Charles are giggling and dragging him away as I wave goodbye and shut and lock the door. Lando has ended up on my bed, on top of everything we had been packing, and I tell Oscar it's good enough and that we can move Lando later when he's more awake.

But Oscar and I just get drunker throughout the night, so I dont think he ever gets moved.

OLIVIAPIASTRI POSTED A NEW STORY! ↴

THIS STORY HAS BEEN DELETED.

taglist:

@harrysdimple05 @charli123456789 @fangirl125reader

[thelostgirl21]

English Translators: "Jaskier" translates as "Buttercup", but we can't just let a manly man use "Buttercup" as his nickname! That's way too feminine, and our readers would be horrified! Let's call him "Dandelion" instead. Yes, much better... Mucho macho...

Netflix & Joey Batey: Yeah, no. We'll just call him Buttercup by keeping the original Polish name, i.e. Jaskier.

So, this is our very own Prince Buttercup. He's a damoiseau in distress that's regularly in need of being rescued, enjoys chatting with animals, and might randomly break into song.

He feels very comfortable asking a strong, stoic, muscular man to accompany him to the Royal Ball for protection, and will attempt to convince him by rubbing chamomile onto his lovely bottom, giving him a bath, washing his stupid hair, and dressing him up in stylish, fine clothing.

He tends to see the good in everyone, and will spontaneously attempt to become friends with things that want to eat him (both figuratively and literally).

However he can occasionally become pretty condescending with commoners, and treat those that fail to appreciate his talent as beneath him; often with a complete disregard for his personal safety, as if it doesn't seem to occur to him right away that they'd actually dare lay their filthy hands on him.

He cries very pretty (so pretty), and will look at you with gorgeous doe eyes when he feels sad, hurt, scared, or needs a favor.

He's very distrustful and afraid of power-hungry sexy witches coming at him from many different angles, until they stop being all predatory and menacing, and begin rescuing and protecting him instead.

He gets along very well with other princes/princesses, and will resent not being invited to one of the most important social events of the Continent, but not getting to spend more time with them.

And he never experienced what romantic love truly was until he finally got to meet his very own Prince.

Obviously, Prince Radovid fell in love with our Buttercup at first sight, and was willing to give up his Kingdom for a chance to be by his side.

And as far as Prince Buttercup is concerned, he sees himself as a

because that's simply who he is, and that's also what masculinity looks like.

So, unless Jaskier, in the books, is a very insecure man that constantly worries about being mistaken for a woman, I can't help but find it hilarious that the translators of the books, in English, got so worried over "Buttercup" sounding feminine...

...when the character himself likely wouldn't have been bothered by the way it sounds in the least, and would totally have rocked that nickname while making it work perfectly for a guy!

Hell! As a non-native English speaker, other than the fact that I've seen the movie "The Princess Bride", and the princess in it was named "Buttercup", my brain does not at all perceive "Buttercup" as inherently feminine, nor "Dandelion" as inherently masculine.

Perhaps because, in French, each word has its own gender, and "bouton d'or" (i.e. "buttercup", but the literal translation would be "button made of gold") is masculine.

Un bouton d'or (a buttercup) is masculine.

Un pissenlit (a dandelion) is masculine.

Une rose (a rose) is feminine.

Une tulippe (a tulip) is feminine.

Etc.

"Princess Buttercup" is thus named "Princesse Bouton d'or" (it's actually the title of the movie) in French.

But "Bouton d'or" (Buttercup) is, by itself, a masculine word.

The funny thing is that, where I'm from, I think the dandelion is literally the single most hated flower I can think of.

When I was a kid, my parents - and pretty much all our neighbors - spent countless hours trying to remove every single dandelion they could find on their lawn and in their garden while making sure to fully eliminate the whole root, because they tended to replace all the grass, and some of the other flowers and plants from their garden.

Some of our neighbors had their lawns treated with very harsh chemicals (many of which are thankfully illegal today) in a desperate effort to get rid of them.

Dandelion always makes allergy season a complete and utter nightmare, makes it harder to breathe outside (those floating bits clouding the air always get stuck in your nose, throat or even eyes), it also clogs the air filter of your car...

And, when you cut them at the stem, your hands wind up all sticky and smelling awful.

Unless they want to make a point that they'll be extremely annoying, unwanted, sticky, smelly, trying to get into every single exposed orifice of your body as soon as you're exposed to them, and hard to get rid of, why would anyone ever wish to nickname themselves "dandelion"?

I mean, "pissenlit", the French name for "dandelion", comes from "pisse-en-lit" and literally means "peeing-in-bed".

Because if you eat dandelion leaves, they will make you pee and wet your bed (they have a strong diuretic effect).

Yes, we hate the dandelion so much, that we've decided to name that freaking flower "peeing-in-bed".

So, if you go from the original Polish name to the English translation of the name, and then translate the English name back to French...

You've essentially replaced:

Jaskier - > Buttercup - > Button made of gold (Bouton d'or).

By

Jaskier - > Dandelion - > Peeing-in-bed (Pissenlit).

It's hilarious!

All because some English translator got scared "Buttercup" would sound "too feminine".

The good news is that we kept Jaskier's name as "Jaskier" in the French translation of the books and the games. Although Bouton d'or would have worked just fine.

But yeah, come on! Jaskier would have made a beautiful Buttercup!

#the art of creating some gender issue where there's none.

When in doubt, just ask the character...

Would Jaskier have had what it took to call himself a "Buttercup"?

You bet your lovely bottom and bloated biceps he would have!

Still can't wrap my mind around him being a peeing-in-bed flower in English... Just... Nope! Does not compute.

[viviennevermillion]

Things to do with Vil

notes: reposting bc I’m deleting my archived sideblogs. can be read as platonic or romantic.

contains: vil schoenheit x gn!reader

warnings: none

Sipping tea and eating cake tbh. I mean, have you read his lab coat story? This man is overworked and constantly trying to hold an appearance, he’ll be glad to just sit down with you and drink a cup of his favorite tea in a dim lit room, preferably in the evening. I headcanon Vil as one of those people who can’t relax during daytime because he’d feel like he should be productive instead so just bring him a cup once the sun has set and he’ll comply a lot easier. He’ll refuse to eat the cake at first because of the calories so he will just longingly stare at it for a solid 15 minutes until you convince him to try it.

Let him do your hair and make up and pick an outfit for you. This one’s pretty obvious. You can always rely on his beauty skills and when Vil takes care of your looks you can guarantee it’ll look fabulous in the end! Additionally Vil just loves showing off said skills and being creative. Just let his brain work its magic. He’ll be very considerate of what qualities, passions and unique characteristics you have and will try his best to make you radiate those on the outside. It’ll be like making art for him. Especially if he knows you well it’s like a challenge for him: “How can I portray the identity of this person through their appearance?” And we all know Vil loves a good challenge. Make sure to compliment the final result too! Because in the end showing off fashion is a lot like serving a dinner you cooked; you just want the people you made it for to enjoy it and to acknowledge you!

As I’ve said Vil loves a good challenge and some friendly competitions! Got a huge wardrobe? Access to a large shop full of clothes? Drawing skills? A website where you can put outfits together? Take turns giving eachother prompts! Whether it’s Halloween or afternoon at the beach or dark academia, just try to work with the topic and portray it with fashion. Vil enjoys comparing the final results and seeing how your result and interpretation of the motto differs from his own, even though he’ll be highly critical (forgive him, he means well).

Go to a restaurant together. Let Vil pick the restaurant. And for the sake of Azul and the tweels make sure it’s not Mostro Lounge. Because Vil is a Gordon Ramsey level of critical. But if he does like the food it’ll be a calm and enjoyable atmosphere.

Major headcanon of mine is that Vil just loves deep conversations and long debates. As long as it’s not one of his fields of expertise he’s actually really considerate of your opinions and arguments. He doesn’t mind having his perspectives challenged once in a while. Despite being slightly superficial at first glance, Vil is more than capable of appreciating an innovative mind and some casual critical thinking. Give him your thoughts on beauty standards in our society! Discuss the education at NRC! Debate Epels views on gender roles! Pick a topic you like and know stuff about. Vil’s gonna talk and he’s gonna like it. I feel like he gets those types of conversations rarely and as much as he loves his career, he’s around superficiality way too much and some balance will do him good!

Go to the theatre! Theatre kid Vil is lowkey canon by now. I bet he loves dressing fancy in the evening and watching an interesting play with you. Will quote it later on. And ofc discuss all the behind the scenes stuff and how the script was portrayed and the costumes etc. Rambles about this for 2 hours.

Same goes for the cinema. Hell, he’s in the Movie Appreciation Club. He’s an actor. Out of respect for you and the other customers he won’t comment on anything during the movie but you can bet he’s going to hold you a presentation about it right after.

If you play an instrument or can sing, perform a duet together. Just the two of you when no people are around. Let Vil pick a song he vibes with. If you two are dating and get a good recording it’ll be his ringtone but psst~

Vil’s aesthetic sense is so strong, he can’t help but project onto things like poetry, art, landscapes, symbolism etc. constantly. Vibes and atmospheres have a bigger impact on his mood than he would like to. Chances are there are some of those things he associates with you. Go to art museums. Take a walk in the beautiful nature. Sit down in the library and read something together. This is also how you get him to be emotional. Vil is a very private person usually but sit in front of the Pomefiore dorm at night, look at the stars and read the legend of the Beautiful Queen together and chances are he’s going to offhandedly mention childhood memories or his father. Especially when it’s night time and he’s tired. He’s gonna regret this in the morning but you won’t soooo

If you’re close enough and he’s comfortable letting his guard down around you honestly just let him be silly and chaotic once in a while. He needs it and he also deserves it. Have a pillow fight. Make some stupid puns. Look at memes on Magicam. Gossip about the teachers. Vil’s honest, natural laugh is beautiful and he’s doing it way less than he probably should.

Study sessions! Vil will help you out in subjects you struggle. He’ll ask for your feedback in subjects you’re good at. Both of you will be more calm and motivated in each other’s presence while studying.

Believe it or not - cooking. Don’t get me wrong, Vil won’t get his hands dirty. He’ll wear gloves the entire time and the maximum he’s willing to touch anything messy is when he’s seperating an egg. Want him to make dough? No chance. Doesn’t touch flour. Or wash the dishes. Or cut onions because the crying would ruin his makeup yk? But he’ll cut the vegetables for you and stir the pot and decorate the plate and then he’ll look at the final result like “I made this” with a neutral smile but you can see the pride in his eyes.

Honestly just let this man relax and be a normal 18 year old once in a while.

[jessaerys]

Opinions on DirkRose?

so when i was 16-18 in high school i was briefly in this very tightknit three person online friend group with me + this extremely popular homestuck artist at the time + their best friend that i quickly developed a crush on. and this online friend roleplayed dirk at the same time i was roleplaying rose (a rose from the same timeline as whom is probably the most famous dave strider roleplayer in the history of homestuck rp. but that nuclear fallout is a story for another day) in the wild wild west that was the 2012 homestuck rp landscape on tumblr (aka the multiple timelines theory)(at some point my rose was involved with, like, a marius pontmercy. yes from les mis. and also a genderbent rose in an ambiguous almost selfcest situationship.)

anyway so i asked her if she wanted to ship our rp characters which was very "baby's first time asking for what they want" of me, and she said yes, and dirk and rose wrote each other a couple of inter-dimensional letters that were quite beautiful and poignant at least in my memory. the vibe was "very traumatized young adults find an equally jaded and verbose kindred spirit and they tentatively show each other the vulnerable side that they can't show anyone else through the safe distance of penpalship" so of course the rp brain chemicals were INTENSE (by the way the three of us were in a slightly larger skype group chat with a couple of other tumblr friends, whom ocassionally would make "you and alex should date lol!" jokes. my fragile teenage psyche was convinced it was going to happen)

but anyway the writing was super slow and i knew that this friend was much more into dirkjake (and VERY hung up on our other friend/her best friend) but whenever i could hold her attention she seemed to be interested in our writing

her dirk had a poetry sideblog (i want to say cringe in retrospect but honestly. at the time i thought it was some elevated literary use of the medium. and it probably was) and i would check it CONSTANTLY trying to decipher if anything new dirk posted was about my rose, but the posts were too vague for solid conclusions

anyway long story short for what was probably somewhere between months and a year (can't recall) i lived in that rp brain chemical addiction thrill-of-the-chase hell state surviving on kernels of character interactions and fantasies about dirk and rose, like i'm talking emotional-support OTP levels of emotional investment. the daily emotional rollercoaster was insane. it would make or break my day depending on what vague poetry dirk strider posted

until ONE DAY.... I FOUND OUT.... she had been rping dirkjake with our OTHER friend/her best friend for a while AND JUST DIDN'T TELL ME. BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T WANT TO UPSET ME. I WAS HEARTBROKEN (these weren't multishipping type blogs. you had one character timeline and by god you stuck to it)

i legitimately do not recall what i did re: the dirk ordeal, but i do remember that at some point (the timeline in relation to the rp drama is long lost to the sands of time) i confessed and she rejected me and i felt soooo led on which was probably a product of this friend being so conflict averse. i was in a crying or close-to-tears state for about a day and a half which i recall very vividly because at the time it was by FAR the biggest social heartbreak of my life. a solid 36 hours of "i'm going to feel like this FOREVER and my heart will never HEAL" teenage angst. i remember it so viscerally lol. especially because my parents straight up didn't notice. but that's an entirely different can of baggage

anyway eventually i met my then-girlfriend and the three person friend group drifted apart. much later i found out they had felt soooo betrayed but what was i supposed to do. third wheel them as the least important person in the group forever??? i think at some point the three of us hung out together for an afternoon when we happened to be in the same city but it must have been completely unremarkable because i don't remember any of it.

anyway what was the question again. yeah dirkrose is fine

[lawlightautismtruther]

All I ever hear when talking with the girls (am I 100% girl? No, and that might be why I feel the disconnect here) is the following

- he’s so tall and big and muscular and deep voiced and UHHHH I WANT HIM TO RAIL MEEEEE

And I’m just like “good for you. Where’s my 5’5” 110 angel of a male, whom I want to carry around princess style to our king sized bed” and they all just look at me like

😨

Like are yall not aware that not EVERYONE is like you??!!!

Like I have no problem with how other people experience sexual attraction, obviously I don’t. That would be hypocritical as hell because people tend to have a problem with how I experience it (note I live in the evangelical American south and the internet is the only place that gets me) but I wish (and I’m the 10000000th person to express this, which goes to show how behind we still are) that women/women-adjacent people were ALLOWED to be masculine and be attracted to femininity without being ostracized and made to feel embarrassed. Especially for lesbians, but also for people like me. I feel like people around here can actually conceptualize a sapphic relationship better than the type of relationship I seek (but they accept neither, unfortunately).

I fear what would happen if they learned I was bi 😩

I’m not emotionally attracted to women (it’s a sexual thing), so I’d end up with a man anyway, but the JUDGEMENT I would still receive from these prehistoric brained people is CRAZY. I feel especially for lesbians and gay people because I know it’s 1000000x harder on them, even if people can conceptualize them better, they hate them even more.

Like, I constantly receive the “well if you’re so attracted to “sissy-boys” why aren’t you just a lesbian?” Which is SO stupid because it implies two really fucking idiotic ideas

1. Sexuality is a choice (specifically, gay people choose to be gay)

2. Being attracted exclusively to femininity = (or at least should equal) being attracted exclusively to women (and the inverse, which is often used to invalidate masc attracted lesbians as jaded straight women or something stupid like that)

WHEN WILL THESE PEOPLE GRASP NUANCE AND VARIANCE IN SEX/GENDER EXPRESSION AND EXPERIENCE.

I know a lot of it is the Bible and Christian culture (which is barely even in the Bible at all), but they break the rules and conventions of it EVERYDAY and find a way to justify it. Yet they can never justify people like me who aren’t harming ANYBODY

Which is proof it’s not 100% about religion, even if they’re consciously convinced it is. It’s about prejudice and ignorance.

what I’ll never understand is the motivation a lot of these people give me for being so obsessed with gender essentialism and policing others “the death of masculinity and femininity in men and women respectively will lead to the downfall of society”

LIKE BROTHER SOURCE PLEASE?!! WHATS YOUR SOURCE HELP

And for the love of God, don’t say the Bible. I’m a Christian myself, actually. But I am fully aware that the Bible was never supposed to be a source for ANYTHING. It’s simply a collection of relevant  documents to the history of our faith. That’s it.

GIVE ME A SCIENTIFIC STUDY AND MAYBE I’LL TAKE YOU A LITTLE MORE SERIOUSLY FOR ONCE (but that will never happen, so by default I will never take these people seriously. Also because if gender variance were an issue, God wouldn’t have made me (and millions of others) the way I am. There are actual problems in this world to worry about, so stop trying to convince me that by “acting like a man” and preferring men who “act like women” I’m contributing to the destruction of society. To be honest, I hope I’m contributing to the downfall of society, because this one stinks). Instead, target the rapists, the murderers, the pedos, the human traffickers, the child exploiters, the money hoarding ultra-rich, the fascists, the racists, the sexists, the homophobes, the supremacists, the nazis, the liars, the cheaters, and the media that promotes them. But most of these people are too far gone to see what’s wrong with the above. So I’m ranting about it all here in this echo chamber. I have no choice.

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Credits of this glorious GIF go to @meideixx

Namor (MCU) X Mexican!OC

Part II Here

Part III Here

MASTERLIST

Synopsis:

War photographer Sadie Medina is one day mysteriously whisked away on a mission that is suspiciously secret for a botanical expedition. A tragic twist of the events leads to her getting too close to something she should've never found, and too close to people who, by all odds, was never supposed to meet, be imprisoned by, and much less grow close to.

Word count: 2,250

Warnings: MCU typical violence, mentions of war, mentions of death and un-living people, Namor is the charming asshole we all love.

A/N: So, yeah, I've got it bad for this man and I have a ton of unused knowledge of Mayan culture due to me being a sucker for my country's history and some research I did for a Hellboy fanfic that never saw the light, so when he showed up on my screen I saw THE chance and I'm not about to let it go to waste, so here's the first chapter of this slow-burn-wannabe-enemies-to-okyou'recool-to-lovers.

P.S. Before you say anything, the OC's name makes sense a bit further down the road, I promise!

*Disclaimer: I'm by no means an expert on Mayan, but I did my best (by this I mean I looked for the best translator possible) and sorry for any mistakes. Handy little translations at the end, if needed.

There’s little room for anything else in your brain when you’re on the brink of death.

Sadie could talk from experience. And while she had convinced herself that survival instincts are incredibly selfish, the guilt trips and bad dreams would always be the painful aftershock of her line of work. People would often comment on how she must genuinely love what she did or she wouldn’t put her life on the line constantly, but it never really felt like love to her. It was more like a duty. A demanding, consuming, but necessary duty.

She’d heard the soldiers she often found herself around mention that same concept. Yet, after many years, she still couldn’t comprehend how people did many terrible things in the name of the only thing that made her decide to pour her heart into war photography for the remainder of her life.

Her father had never understood it either. She specifically remembered an exchange they had when she was about six, during one scorching afternoon, while she sat on his knees and played with an old rag doll. Guerrilleros didn’t precisely get a stable paycheck at the end of the month.

“This is stupid,” she’d said, tugging at the doll’s arms.

“What is?” asked her father, his voice soft but never tearing his eyes from his surroundings.

“I want to go home. I don’t want to be here. I want to live in our old house, with my Abue. This is stupid.” He had said nothing.

“Pa?” she asked meekly after a short pause. “Are you going to go away like Tío Ramiro? I don’t want to wear the ugly black dress that my aunt did after he went away.”

He couldn’t help but smile a little at her, pulling the girl closer and embracing her against his chest.

“I wouldn’t want that, muñequita. But it’s not up to me. Do you know how I’m always telling you to do as your Abue or I say? Well, there are some people I must obey too.”

“But they tell you to do...ugly things. They make you fight other people; Ernesto told me so. He says you go and beat them so bad they can’t get up. And Abue said that hitting people isn’t nice."

A long sigh that seemed to leave his lungs empty left the man’s mouth. A curse escaped his lips. He had to be more careful about letting her be around the camp’s eldest children. Hell, Ernesto was barely even a child. He could be standing guard in no more than six months with a weapon in his hands.

“Can’t you just talk to them? Maybe you can get along, and we can go back home.”

“It’s more complicated like that,” he replied, almost painfully. He sounded very, very tired. Sadie had discovered at an early age that when grown-ups didn’t really understand something, they’d say it was “complicated.”

“Some people are not that good at listening, preciosa.”

 

He was right. And so she didn’t tell. She showed.

And she had never been shy at admitting she was awful good at it.

The unexpectedness of her line of work amused, thrilled, and scared her a little bit. One day she could be in nearly arctic territories documenting the kidnapping of a crew of whale hunters by a faction of extremist ecologists, the next, she could be aboard a plane going God knows where after two men with three-letter badges insisted she was required for a “task of great scientific relevance.”

Sadie wasn’t particularly trustful of men with badges, but the sight of poorly concealed guns was one hell of a way to make someone change their mind.

And now she was sitting in a suffocatingly hot briefing room on an island in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people who owned either a badge, a Ph.D., or both.

“…it’s crucial that you carry the vial at all times and be extremely careful. There’s more fungus than antidote, and it will take at least another month to synthesize more. Am I clear?” indicated a man with such small eyes that one could barely see the white in them. The way his lips tugged at his mouth downwards asymmetrically didn’t help much. All she knew was that he was the leader of this “expedition,” and his last name was something like Baxter or Dexter.

Rocks. She had left behind a great fucking story for a trip to photograph submarine rocks.

“Is something still unclear to you, Ms. Medina?” asked the captain after everyone had left the room but her.

“Yes, I think so…” she replied. Captain Baxter? Captain Dexter? “I think so, sir. I’m not sure about my role in all of this.”

“Ms. Medina, I can assure you’re entirely qualified for….”

“Sir, I know I am,” Sadie replied, perhaps a bit too bluntly. Overqualified, she would’ve wanted to add. “What I mean is, there are many colleagues of mine with excellent credentials who would jump at the chance to snap a picture of algae.”

“Really? Do you happen to know many wildlife photographers with military training, survivalist knowledge, and crisis management experience?” he retorted. This man’s attempts to be funny or sarcastic still sounded like a threat.

“Maybe, who knows? Still, why would you need…?”

“Ms. Medina, let me tell you something off the record. I don’t give a rat’s ass about those qualifications.”

While she did not appreciate being interrupted like that, there were words like “off the record” that piqued her interest.

“We’ve researched you thoroughly,” the captain continued emphatically, “and what was most impressive to us wasn’t your ability to constantly get in trouble, but your ability to each and every time find your way out. You’ve come out alive in situations you shouldn’t have been able to. That is why you’re here and not some Nat Geo intern.”

At this point, her instincts began telling her something was off. They weren’t telling her everything. Something about that speech the captain had just given her felt off-putting, but before she could try and dig for some more information, the man went around her.

“Trust me, this mission is worth your time.” Was the last thing he said before exiting the room, coming across a young soldier who saluted him.

“Captain Wexler, we are ready for departure as scheduled, sir.”

A speaker announcing the departure of the first raft caught her attention. 

“Wexler, then.” Sadie affirmed, leaving hastily for the main deck.

Only five people, including herself, left the ship in the raft. She noticed they were headed toward a large formation of rocks that was barely visible from their distance. As they drifted closer, she looked in awe at the porous, black surface of the structure that grew larger by the second until it towered at about fifty feet above their heads.

“It’s an entrance,” explained one of the two scientists on board, leaning closer to her. “See, it looks like it’s just rocks, but once we dive and get to the center, you’ll see it leads to a very complex cave system.”

Honestly, the idea of a virtually impossible-to-escape underwater cave system wasn’t appealing to Sadie. Yet, the several things she had found out to feel out of place had captured her interest. She was almost sure there was something else to all of this that they didn’t want her to know. Or anyone else, for that matter. The entrance was so small that two people, shoulder to shoulder, wouldn’t have been able to fit inside. They had to go in a single line: one soldier in front, the two scientists, Sadie in fourth, and another soldier behind her. It was impressive how well the rocks hid the entrance. They almost looked like the black petals of a flower that would close around them at any given moment. In less than fifteen minutes, there was no trace of sunlight. They could only go forward with the guidance of their hands, lamps, and directions from the surface via intercom. 

“In thirty-five feet, you’ll find yourselves at Point Alpha.”

Point Alpha, as shown in the map they had reviewed during the presentation, was an underwater cave with a pocket of air that made it possible for them to emerge and breathe normally while harvesting samples. However, they were strictly ordered to stay together under all circumstances.

Sadie felt odd photographing something so out of her usual field. Something that wouldn’t go anywhere and wasn’t trying to kill her.

Well, not exactly. One of the samples that had to be collected was a saucer-shaped fungus that thrived in the humidity between the rocks. However, if removed incorrectly, the spores could suppress the flow of oxygen in the bloodstream, eventually causing hypoxia and death in a little over five minutes. That was what the vial of antidote was for.

After moving forwards for about half an hour, the space started to become smaller and smaller until the only thing left before them was a breach in the wall. And there was light coming from it.

“Sunlight? I thought we were already a hundred feet below the surface.”

“No. Bioluminescent microorganisms.” Bluntly stated the other soldier. “And this, Ms. Medina, is your time to shine. Here, take this.”

He handed her a tiny square, barely bigger than her hand and only two inches wide, wrapped in a thin leather case. She took it and examined it, carefully placing the strap around her neck.

“A high-definition camera. State of the art. What we need is for you to get in there. Our 3D mappings show that about 400 meters in, it will become wide enough for you to move and take pictures of what’s in there. Take as many as you need until you’re sure you’ve covered every possible angle, and when you’re ready, let us know. We’re on channel three.” The soldier handed her a climbing rope and instructed her to secure it around her waist.

Sadie stared at the crawlspace, mentally measuring it before taking off the belt with what was left of the gear they’d given her, leaving her with just the neoprene suit. She was about to get in before changing her mind and removing the camera’s strap, wrapping the vial of antidote with its tiny injector, and tying it to her wrist. Taking a deep breath, Sadie knelt down and awkwardly dragged herself forward. She could barely fit. And still, she could feel the pointy edges of the rocks digging into her flesh, protected only by the thin suit.

The closer she was, the brighter the light shone until it was strong enough to light up the entire cavity. Finally, she reached the broader space they mentioned.

It was a beautiful grotto, just around five feet wide, full of stalactites of twisted shapes that fell from the ceiling like petrified chandeliers. However, the light wasn’t coming from them. It came from a structure in the middle of the space: a hollow mound of rock as tall as her knee. Sadie could only get on all fours if she wanted to reach it and avoid the stalactites. She peeked inside, realizing it led to a deep conduct that seemed to go on for miles and miles. With the absolute sound isolation the walls provided, water could be heard splashing at the end. Taking out the camera, she snapped her first picture of many. She captured the width and height of the rocky base, then another of the entire space for size comparison, including the stalactites that prevented her from moving further. For good measure, she tried doing a close-up of some familiar-looking fungus splotched along the walls. In about ten minutes, she was sure she had captured everything to see in the grotto.

“Well, then. I guess that’s all.” She said into the intercom, “It was beautiful, guys, but I can’t believe you made me drop a probable Pulitzer for this.”

With a breathless laugh, she dropped herself down again and began crawling backward.

“Guys? Do you hear me? I’m on my way back. Over” She repeated, hearing nothing but static. Of course, the intercom would fail. “It’s a bit harder to do this in reverse. Would you mind helping me out a bit, please? Over.” She insisted as her feet constantly got stuck in the rocks, softly tugging on the rope. Still no answer.  

“Yeah, well, fuck you too,” Sadie muttered when she finally felt her legs break free.

“Alright, I got the pictures, but I don’t think those were bioluminescent….” She stopped mid-sentence when she turned around to find the cave completely empty. There was nothing but the scattered remnants of the team’s scuba gear and the closed sample containers all over the floor. Sadie’s instincts went crazy again. Something was very wrong. She fought the urge to call out to someone, picked up one of the pocket knives, and advanced as quietly as possible, her heart thundering in her chest so heavily she could feel it in her throat.

Suddenly, a clinking sound made her flinch as a small blue prism fell on the trail a few meters ahead. She didn’t even have time to feel surprised before the entire cave filled with water in a matter of seconds, washing her away and slamming her against the same wall she’d just emerged from. Then, there was only darkness.

Darkness…and a language she hadn’t heard in a long, long time, since she was a little girl in the warm jungle of Chiapas.

[gossipaboutelonmusk]

That time Grimes made a reddit post about how abusive Elon is.... Allegedly.

My (31f) boyfriend (49m) convinced me that we needed to stop talking to my mom. I figured out why and it's messing me up

relationship_advice

Original

throwRA-shifte

6216 2020-05-18 22:30:21

**edit: I decided it's in my best interest to delete the contents of this post.

Everything is under control, thank you all for all your help. Much appreciated.**

Going to do bullet points so this doesn't get to be 100000000 pages long. Also, the title is like, the tip of the iceberg so buckle up I guess

Also I have been up since 4 on 2 hours of sleep and my brain is fried all the time so bear with me pls be nice to me

together for almost 3 years

got pregnant unexpectedly; had a super difficult pregnancy with many complications including severe HG, bleeding, finding out I have a gene mutation that causes pregnancy complications and birth defects. We broke up at the beginning of my pregnancy because he thought I was being dramatic about the HG and refused to take me to the hospital. After i was taken to the hospital and the doctors told him how close to dying I had been he realised he'd been stupid and we reconciled.

I was in labor for almost 60 hours, things didn't progress properly, there were complications, I finally had an emergency c section. Baby was born on Star Wars day 🌟

recovery has been completely awful for me and once again my boyfriend has decided I'm being dramatic because "(Son) is an easy baby". This somehow doesn't cure my continued nausea, pain from having my abdomen opened and then stitched shut, rock hard boobs and sleep deprivation but thanks I guess. He changes diapers and holds/plays with baby when he's not working or fucking around on the internet.

So the stuff about my mom:

Shortly after we reconciled, he and my mom had a disagreement about something. At the time he told me that she was being toxic and trying to meddle in our relationship and that it was better if we ceased communication. He showed me screenshots from his phone that at the time seemed fairly convincing. My mom isn't crazy about him anyway, and she'd made no secret about that when we were separated, so even though I was surprised by the things "she" was saying I did believe him (and stupidly felt like it was the right thing to do to make things work with him).

It bothered me that he was constantly asking me if I had been talking to her and that he was paranoid about it but I was like well, what she said was really hurtful (basically that he was abusing me but that I was too stupid to see it and that she was going to come take our baby away so he wouldn't be raised by him), so I understand.

A couple of days ago I overheard him talking about me on a discord voice chat, basically complaining that I was being lazy and useless since I gave birth and that it was my "job" so I needed to suck it up and do it. I didn't let him know that I had overheard, but I was upset. Later on we were in the bedroom and the baby was losing his mind and I was having trouble getting him to latch and I was in so much pain and I just started crying and saying I wanted my mom. He snapped at me that my mom had filled my head with feminist garbage my whole life and that was why I was weak and couldn't handle something women had been doing for thousands of years. I was kind of floored. I'd never heard him say anything like that before. I told him he needed to leave and go sleep elsewhere because I was really hurt.

When he went to work the next morning I decided to call my mom and to see what the hell he has been doing on the internet, because I felt like that was the logical step to take.

I was not that surprised to find that he'd been on men's rights type websites (if you agree with that fine whatever) and was using them to express his frustration that although he'd thought he'd found an ideal young partner who would have babies and turn into an ideal housewife (which was so weird to read because I feel like I'm the furthest thing from some housewife type and I'm not shy about that, I guess my mom has been filling my head with feminist garbage my whole life after all 😂. When we first met it seemed like we had lots of shared interests and ideas and he enjoyed my independence), but that pregnancy had made me gross and useless and then giving birth made me even worse, saying the only good thing about me was that I had a boy my first go.

I was pretty surprised however to learn that the original conversation he and my mom had was about his attitude toward me but had nothing to do with him being abusive and she never threatened to take the baby, she just suggested to him that if he really loved me he would support me and be there for me. He told HER she'd never speak to me again and that she'd never meet her grandchild. She forwarded me the conversations.

I'm not wrong in thinking this is all totally fucked up, right? There's absolutely no saving a relationship like this? I know it seems pretty cut and dry when it's all laid out but like...I just need someone to give me some advice on what to do, where to go from here?

Edit: I'm okay and everything is okay but I may be quiet/slow to reply while I get some things sorted out. Thank you for all your advice.

Going to do bullet points so this doesn't get to be 100000000 pages long. Also, the title is like, the tip of the iceberg so buckle up I guess

Also I have been up since 4 on 2 hours of sleep and my brain is fried all the time so bear with me pls be nice to me

together for almost 3 years

got pregnant unexpectedly; had a super difficult pregnancy with many complications including severe HG, bleeding, finding out I have a gene mutation that causes pregnancy complications and birth defects. We broke up at the beginning of my pregnancy because he thought I was being dramatic about the HG and refused to take me to the hospital. After i was taken to the hospital and the doctors told him how close to dying I had been he realised he'd been stupid and we reconciled.

I was in labor for almost 60 hours, things didn't progress properly, there were complications, I finally had an emergency c section. Baby was born on Star Wars day 🌟

recovery has been completely awful for me and once again my boyfriend has decided I'm being dramatic because "(Son) is an easy baby". This somehow doesn't cure my continued nausea, pain from having my abdomen opened and then stitched shut, rock hard boobs and sleep deprivation but thanks I guess. He changes diapers and holds/plays with baby when he's not working or fucking around on the internet.

So the stuff about my mom:

Shortly after we reconciled, he and my mom had a disagreement about something. At the time he told me that she was being toxic and trying to meddle in our relationship and that it was better if we ceased communication. He showed me screenshots from his phone that at the time seemed fairly convincing. My mom isn't crazy about him anyway, and she'd made no secret about that when we were separated, so even though I was surprised by the things "she" was saying I did believe him (and stupidly felt like it was the right thing to do to make things work with him).

It bothered me that he was constantly asking me if I had been talking to her and that he was paranoid about it but I was like well, what she said was really hurtful (basically that he was abusing me but that I was too stupid to see it and that she was going to come take our baby away so he wouldn't be raised by him), so I understand.

A couple of days ago I overheard him talking about me on a discord voice chat, basically complaining that I was being lazy and useless since I gave birth and that it was my "job" so I needed to suck it up and do it. I didn't let him know that I had overheard, but I was upset. Later on we were in the bedroom and the baby was losing his mind and I was having trouble getting him to latch and I was in so much pain and I just started crying and saying I wanted my mom. He snapped at me that my mom had filled my head with feminist garbage my whole life and that was why I was weak and couldn't handle something women had been doing for thousands of years. I was kind of floored. I'd never heard him say anything like that before. I told him he needed to leave and go sleep elsewhere because I was really hurt.

When he went to work the next morning I decided to call my mom and to see what the hell he has been doing on the internet, because I felt like that was the logical step to take.

I was not that surprised to find that he'd been on men's rights type websites (if you agree with that fine whatever) and was using them to express his frustration that although he'd thought he'd found an ideal young partner who would have babies and turn into an ideal housewife (which was so weird to read because I feel like I'm the furthest thing from some housewife type and I'm not shy about that, I guess my mom has been filling my head with feminist garbage my whole life after all 😂. When we first met it seemed like we had lots of shared interests and ideas and he enjoyed my independence), but that pregnancy had made me gross and useless and then giving birth made me even worse, saying the only good thing about me was that I had a boy my first go.

I was pretty surprised however to learn that the original conversation he and my mom had was about his attitude toward me but had nothing to do with him being abusive and she never threatened to take the baby, she just suggested to him that if he really loved me he would support me and be there for me. He told HER she'd never speak to me again and that she'd never meet her grandchild. She forwarded me the conversations.

Notes:

Source

Worth reading the comments section posted in the link.

 Also, this article is a pretty good synopsis.

[unhinged-transmasc]

been thinking somewhat on like. transandrophobia discourse and like. really it all just feels like a matter of being prickly over semantics. almost everyone can agree transmascs do experience some form of gender-based oppression. but whether we call it misogyny, transphobia, transandrophobia, etc -- complaining about what terms we use to describe that oppression just feels like a red herring argument, detracting from the real point.

so what if trans men don't "actually experience misogyny" because we're men and not women, still doesn't change the fact that we experience some kind of oppression based on often being perceived as women by society, no matter what you wanna call it. or "transandrophobia" doesn't exist because that implies "androphobia" is a form of oppression or whatever. at the end of the day they're words we use to varying degrees to describe the very real phenomenon of being oppressed, discriminated, and hurt for our gender.

how do you call my mother lamenting over the fact i was trans and trying to convince me i was meant to be a girl? me being called slurs all the time for being openly trans/gender nonconforming as an online presence with a decently large audience back then? how do you call me being fetishized/objectified while being more femme-presenting? what do we call that? it's still a fact that trauma exists. why argue over the words we want to use to describe it. why make pointless arguments about how misogyny "doesn't" affect trans men or how androphobia/misandry "doesn't exist" when that's absolutely not the point of the post.

is it a perfect terminology? debatable. but that's not the issue. use a bit of brains and think about what it means to be born and raised female in this society, and how you might be treated if you turned your entire life around by being transgender and acting upon the desire to transition. constantly telling people you're a boy and you go by another name, or maybe being so afraid to tell them. being told what a boy and girl should be, becoming so goddamn acutely aware of how stiflingly binary this world is. the multitudes of ways people can treat you in that position. hell, transphobes have a huge violent aversion to masculine presenting people having "female" bodily functions. people constantly called me slurs and degraded me/harassed me for being a boy with a "girl" voice, and later on being a boy with that "transmasc few months on T" voice (as a singer online). if you have a problem with whatever we call that phenomenon, that experience, that issue, let it go. drop it. just think about the issue itself. and maybe realize there's much more in common with the trans experience in general and that's why we have fucking got to stand up for each other instead of dismissing one anothers' trauma. in THIS fucking political climate? we cannot afford that.

[faller-fears]

Hard to kill

Uh-- name's Fennec. Probably. I mean, it's the one I'm using right now, you know? Sorry, sorry, it's just-- it's weird, okay? You know how it is. There's the deadname, the name I tried out for a while but it didn't click, the name for friends only, the online name, the fursona--

Fennec Mortimer is fine. Well. Anyways. Today's....friday, I think? Yeah. Statement begins?

So, I guess I've always been kind of an adrenaline junkie. As a kid, I was always that weird little girl who hung out with the boys and climbed trees, but I went faster and higher than any of them. Hated skirts, not 'cause they were girly but because they were impractical, same with hair long enough to grab.

When Plasma was active, I was almost old enough to go on a journey, in my mind, but I wasn't allowed to, because, you know. Moms have this gossip grapevine, and she'd heard that a friend of hers had a daughter whose pokemon had been stolen by Plasma. They got it back, in the end, and the girl ended up settling down as a lab assistant, but the point is...well. My ten year old brain was convinced that if I just harassed enough grunts with flaming pinecone molotovs, they would all explode into sparkles and I'd suddenly be allowed to go on my journey.

I think mom was hoping that me coming out as a boy would make me calm down. She walked me through all the legal and medical stuff, got me a haircut and dye, even called Dad back from his work in Kanto so we could have some proper father-son bonding. And it was great, don't get me wrong! It just... I dunno. Didn't satisfy that urge.

Neither did my journey, really. I just... gods, how do I even explain it? It felt like there was something missing. I couldn't explain this gaping hole in my life, for something I didn't know the words for. I needed more, and I needed it constantly, and I was always vibrating with this...need.

Anyways. I got into urban exploration after a lot of wandering places I shouldn't have been, and I think mom was relieved. She got into it too-- got me a proper dust mask to filter out stuff, a sturdy pair of boots, and a first aid kit. When my friend Sol suggested we start a poketube and record ourselves, I'm pretty sure my mom slipped some money to them out of sheer relief. It meant we'd be going safe places, taking video, and she'd have some semblance of an idea where I'd been.

Well. Our first video was the old Plasma castle, see. I'd fucked around in the Unova underground enough to find an entrance, and it seemed stable enough, so we were getting to a part that was off limits to the public. Dist, it might not have been a place that anyone had seen for ages! So yeah, we were excited to go down there. Maybe mom didn't know about the whole secret base we'd set up underground, but she'd be happy that I was getting out and doing something marginally less stupid than usual.

I didn't wear the mask. I know, I know, stupid, but listen-- gender euphoria is a hell of a drug, and I'd somehow gotten it into my head that if I wasn't wearing the dust mask, maybe I'd start growing hair on my face instead of my-- you know what, that's not going in the official log. I wanted facial hair, is the point.

We pushed our way in and started recording-- introduced ourselves, had a silly little moment or two, then started walking. We were in one of the lower hallways, where the grunts had lived, and it was lined wall to wall with old tapestries and hanging fabric to insulate it.

They just... lived underground like drilbur. Kind of fucked up, seeing so many of them in the aftermath, pasty pale and blinking like they'd never seen so much daylight. Also kind of fucked up that they were just allowed to walk free after the shit they pulled, but I guess my beef's not with the grunts. Not really.

I knew, vaguely, that they were some kind of cult who'd been taught a revisionist history, that Reshiram was some great hero and Zekrom was the lesser jealous villain, but this... cemented it. Suddenly it was like we were walking with the memories of real people, in that hallway full of tapestries.

And most of them were burned. Not completely, just... bits and pieces. Precise. As we went on, we started to notice the patterns. A lot of the tapestries were just...everyday stuff, people going about their lives, woman posing with her skitty stuffed in a silly dress, bunch of guys eating dinner together.

The burn marks were just... I mean, I thought they were chemical burns at first. They bleached the surrounding threads a pure white, but they smelled no different than actual burned fabric. And I would, unfortunately, know what burned fabric smelled like. I didn't process what was being burned out at first until I saw a tapestry of a classroom-- one room schoolhouse kind of thing. And every single child was bleached white and burned through, leaving a swiss cheese mess of empty desks and scenery.

I wish I knew what happened next. But in all honesty, there wasn't even panic or darkness or any warning, I was just staring at the ceiling, like I'd spaced out. And I started to realize that someone was yelling my name.

I....should have panicked. I mean. It looked like some kind of torture dungeon, exactly the kind of thing you'd see in a cult. Sol was...locked in some kind of cage. I dunno, I was strapped down to a table and couldn't really turn my head. But it felt right, somehow. I mean, it's going to sound stupid. You're going to laugh. But my heart was pounding like crazy, and for once I wasn't vibrating out of my skin. Like this was the adventure I'd always craved.

I...don't know if I should be telling you this, actually. After all... it's not like I can get back what he stole from me. Fuck it, I

[anxiouslyfred]

No Longer Playing House

I told myself when I wrote these prompts that I would complete this week and by Remus I'm going to manage it, brain constantly exhausted or not, everything a short as hell bullet fic or not

This is for @aro-sides-week prompt of found family

Patton getting cleared to adopt after a long fight for it and trying to fit all his friends into family roles

Logan immediately questions this, and why he's somehow implied to be Patton's partner despite them not being together and him being alloaro while Patton's aroace

Needless to say the kid,( because lets face it, although Patton would probably love to raise a baby, he'd get attached to some precocious child in a foster home if ever advised to visit one.) gets very amused by them arguing and after a comment by Logan about being more suited to a teacher than any familial role in a child's life starts calling him Mr Logan.

Virgil also argues twice over, because Patton decides he should be the kids older brother. He is not Patton's son and refuses to let the man make him so at all, and ignoring that, they're already found family. That does not to any extent mean they have to fit these roles Patton has in his head, it just means they're people important to each other, who want to look after each other in their ways.

Roman... goes along with it. He loves the idea, especially when he's chosen as an uncle to the child, claiming he'll be the coolest. He only starts questioning it when Patton declares Remus to be the cousin they do everything to avoid influencing the child.

This was a group brought together because for various identities the normal relationship wouldn't work, and they were happy with it.

Janus at least gets Patton to drop the entire thing with a very snide "Wow, thanks Patton, I would just adore being an aunt to your child, encouraging the very suffocating amatonormative family structure we all wanted to escape. Is this your way of convincing two alloace's they should date, because I really believe Roman and I know our relationship to each other better than you."

That gets Patton stopped in his tracks. He looks from Janus to whichever of their friends are said at this time and stutters out an attempt to deny that,

"You're right, I might have a kid now. but we're family and there's no need for a structure of that. Sorry guys. Guess I just caught up in the idea of making a home like I always played house as a kid."

"Fuck social structures! That's what Remus told me!" The kid cheers at that, getting groans or laughter from everyone, even as Patton scolds them for language and listening to Remus.

[aita-systemized]

TW: self harm

AITA for encouraging our ex-host to hurt themselves?

Hi. I'm a persecutor. The first known one in our system, even. I'm an Introject of our system's OC, who is also a system. My source is a persecutor alter who encourages unhealthy coping mechanisms. So, I've been here ever since we found out we were a system, possibly longer, as well as another persecutor and a fragment.

Originally, we were part of a community that glorified self harm to the point where it felt like you SHOULD be depressed. We don't know who our host was, but she had already desired depression due to wanting to be like our older sister who toyed with our emotions constantly back then. She easily fell into this idea that you need to hurt yourself to be depressed, and that knives were the "one correct tool" to use. That's the only way it was shown. Knives on arms, and then there's blood and it makes people numb in a weird melancholic way. Like it was a ritual. Especially when it's done "for someone else".

We were in this community for a while and even tried to hurt ourselves unsuccessfully during this time. We eventually were barred from the community by our parents who hadn't cared for the majority of our life about what we did online. They've since forgotten about it all.

Skipping some time, we figured out we were a system, etc etc.

Our host, now ex-host, Alex, was a bit of an idiot. They tried to act innocent to everyone else and refused to be open about our issues. Alex represented the idea that living in ideal ignorance, away from everyone, while still being aware of your own issues and coping unhealthily, was the best option. They were immature. Weak, even. Regressed. Vulnerable and gullible.

I was the "bad alter". The hateful, spiteful demon from who knows where. I didn't want to change. I still don't- I just can't interact with Alex anymore, and I've been less active as our brain develops different alters to cope with different things.

I punished Alex for being imperfect, because I hated how innocent they pretended to be and how they always turned everyone against me, every single time I did something wrong. Hell, Alex even convinced our Caretaker (again, now ex-caretaker) to push me away out of being able to interact with the system.

They treated me horrible and constantly switched between pitying n' babying me, and treating me like a monster. So I made myself that monster. I was nice sometimes, then I'd hurt them like they expected me to.

That's just how it was.

And then Alex found out we had a bread knife in the house.

They started cutting themselves. We didn't do anything but try to comfort them afterwards. By "we," I mean the rest of the dumbasses in the system. I just remained quiet, at first, even kind of enjoying it.

Until they started doing it more often.

I started monitoring them every time they did it. Alex always had a certain way of doing it. When nobody was in the kitchen, with the bread knife, only on the forearm.

So, I made sure that they knew THAT'S the "right way" to do it. And that they needed to do it. I convinced Alex, I suggested it when we were alone at home. It bugged everyone, but it made me feel good and it gave a structure to something in our increasingly chaotic life.

And I felt stronger. I started getting more and more bold. I'd hurt alters in the headspace. I'd belittle them into tears and ignore their complaints. At least, I think it was me. The other persecutor and I often share memories.

It's a bit blurry from that point. I don't know where I was, what I was doing.

I know that the host split into three. I know that our splitting became worse, as well as our "forgetfulness". I know that Alex was found out and we had to go to therapy. I know that it took ages to find out about the host split.

I don't know how long it's been since I've done anything.

My memories are vague at this point. I'm not sure if I'm a fragment or just going in and out of dormancy. But I've been wondering if I'm the asshole here. I probably am. I just can't get myself to think that way. I've always put myself above others. So my system asked me to do this.

I'm sorry if I've been rambling. Our ability to express our thoughts has gotten worse and worse.

To summarize, I am a persecutor and I motivated our idiotic, idealistic, ignorant host to cut themselves in a semi-ritualistic fashion. I think I'm the asshole here but I suck at being able to tell.

AITA?

[starlitdumbass]

JEAN JEAN I HAD AN AU IDEA AND I RUSHED TO YOUR INBOX BEFORE IT COULD DISAPPEAR OK SO

Royal au right but specifically arranged marriage so shikaneji's kingdom and gaalee's kingdom have been at war for a long time not with each other just in general. So when their respective wars finally end they're like geez we need allies kinda bad. So shikamaru is like whats the quickest way to make friends in this day and age we dont have any resources to spare so no trade agreement then he looks over at shikarin throwing knives at his dartboard and he's like....sigh and starts drafting up the proposal letter. Now gaalee get the letter and they're hesitant of course cuz like they love their kids but shika is really convincing and they're like you know the other kingdom's capital is only a day and a half away on horseback so our kid would never be far and we really do need the resources. So they take a look at their kids and make the choice almost instantly bc ori is too old at this point iya is too young and out of aika and mako aika is least likely to start an international scandal. So they write back to shikamaru about their choice and how they'll drop by in 2 weeks to make the official proposal and shikamaru is like hell yeah that was easier than i expected but shikarin being shikarin has now gotten word that her dad is trying to marry her off and she's determined to fuck it up bc first of all how dare you and second of all she's never met this kid what do her stupid parents know. Anyway gaalee arrive with aika and the plan is since shikarin and aika are both like 15 they're only gonna get betrothed now and actually marry when they're adults so neji has gotten shikarin as cleaned up as she'll allow and they're waiting for the gaalee delegation and shikarin is so determined to hate this kid and ruin the betrothal but then aika walks into the throne room all cute and excited and shika's like. Oh. So now shikarin can't even go through with her original plan bc this is the cutest girl she's ever seen wtf where were yall hiding her. So long story short they spend the next 5 years going back and forth between their kingdoms and falling in love and everyone thinks theyre the cutest even if their siblings tease them all the time

GALAXY BRAINED AU MY FIREND WOW

Like gosh might I add some things such as designs of course huehue

I'd like to think that the arrangement was more Neji's idea and Shikamaru eventually agrees even tho he wasn't really for it. However, considering him and Neji were an arrangement for political purposes but it turned out better then expected, the same could happen for her.

The only reason Shikarin is even slightly cooperative in this is because Neji has warned her not to embrace her kingdom and at least meet with the person.

Also on Aika's end I'm sure her anxiety is lessened because Lee is constantly telling her all about how Neji is an old good friend of his so she's expecting someone with a similar personality to her his (which shikarin is far from lmfao). So when they meet she's more then a little shocked to see how stiff and stoic they all are. But Shikarin still makes her heart flutter so you know~.

[fyodior]

Hi my favorite little horn and porn. Im back at it again because my brain is constantly thinking and there’s no stopping it. I don’t know about you but I feel like sitting on Fyodors lap and whisper to him in Spanish how he’s so beautiful. “Aw! Maybe they’ll do like sweet fluffy headcaonos?” is probably what you’re thinking…ERRRR IM ABOUT TO GIVE YOU SOME OF THE FILTHIEST TOE CURLY SMUT I CAN CONJURE UP IN MY SICK LITTLE HEAD.

•God where do I start with this mentally I’ll low ironed slutty waisted man? Firstly he’s a virgin killer, it gives him sick satisfaction knowing he is the one to ruin you. He’s sweet about it though (liar. All men do is lie.) the foreplay last for a good two hours, he wants you to feel comfortable and make sure it doesn’t hurt🥺 anndddd than we have the actual finale, yeah…like for ten seconds he’s nice about it and than he’s just thrusting into you like it’s HIS first time. Now what I mean by that is that it’s hard, fast…maybe a little desperate. But not uncoordinated or inexperienced.

•he loves hickies! God he loves them on you also he’s determined to make sure they’re not only viable but dark too. “But what happens if I have darker skin?” Babe…he’ll make sure they show up on you trust me. He doesn’t mind them either. He prefers you on top off him and giving them to him .

• blowjobs. Oh my. Facefucking is something that he truly loves, he loves shoving his cock down your pretty throat, he’ll squeeze your neck just ever so gentle right where his cock hits the back of your throat<3 he’s a head pusher but like consensually, like if you’re teasing him to much he’s going to be irritated. Loves when you’re wearing make up<3 because he gets to ruin it with your tears and drool! But don’t worry he’ll decorate your pretty face with his cum…how sweet. (No because I would cry over the fact my eyeliner being ruined. IT TAKES ME FOREVER)

•Fyodor’s hands are so pretty. His fingers are so long and just perfect. If you like his hands and he notices. Strap in for a long night, he uses them for you to see stars over and over again, his other hand would probably be gently wrapped around your throat or shoved in your mouth. Suck his fingers. Just do it.

•has never been pegged and honestly doesn’t know how to feel about it. But not against it. Have him on top. Not because he wants to be in control, but because of how pretty he looks, all covered in hickies and blushing. He whimpers, his moans could make you bust by itself I’m convinced. He can’t make eye contact but that’s okay because him throwing his head back in pleasure and moaning like a slut makes up for it! (I think I just awoken something in myself??)

•He’s a tricky guy loves playing games, and loves cock warming too. So he’ll have you sit in his lap full with him and ask you questions like when was the Eiffel Tower made? How many ways can you make a dollar with change? And if you get them wrong he adds 10-20 minutes of you just sitting there if you get one right you can slowly rock your self on him. Three in a row and you’re fucking until he needs to take a break (our anemic king is so strong 😔✊)

• now if priest!fyodor and you we’re together….Now as a man who talks about God and righteousness he sure as hell isn’t. He will fuck you up against the wall where the cross hangs for all the church to see and where he prayed just a few hours ago. (Fun fact I was raised catholic)

• as for kinks…he’s a pretty standard guy…kinda actually no he’s insane. Likes sensory deprivation and trailing his cold hands down your body, he won’t deny it, you being startle or even a little scared of him, makes him hard. Temperature play he likes as well but honestly he knows he’s not a good guy, he’s dangerous but something about you being so…trusting? (Or stupid he doesn’t know) just does something to that ego of his

•kissing him or making out with him is both romantic and orgasmic. It’s very sweet and gentle, but there’s just something about his hands hold you or how his lips feel, his tongue in your mouth. It’s just hot? But in and intimate way?

•The big question, does this man eat it? Yes he does and he’s quite good at it but if you compared dazai’s motives as to why they do it or like it, there’s a difference. Dazai does it to pleasure you, to make you feel good it’s just a plus he likes it too. Fyodor does it for his pleasure, like Dazai in a way he likes to get a reaction out of them. Fyodor enjoys seeing you shaking and crying from overstimulation, he likes how you become so dumb and puttty like in his hands, how if he stops just at a certain moment, he can ask any favor from you and you’d gladly nod and say yes but beg to have his mouth back on you. Look he’s willing to eat you out four a solid ten hours but just know if he asks “would you kill for me?” You’d say yes and not even know what he asked.

•he fainted one time in the middle of it because ✨anemia✨ also you are WRONG if you think your getting aftercare LMAO, it’s him who’s getting it.

Yours truly

(Also I haven’t gotten COVID since the outbreak but the goddamn flu has knocked me on my ass TWICE IN A MONTH)

-🪱

I LOVEEEEEEEE THE CONCEPT OF VIRGIN KILLER SO MUCHL FKLASJFLKSD like he so just wants to be the one you remember forever as your first (and best) time "like its his first time" i cant kdalsfj;klsdj;sfdajkl\

yesssss i've said this a lot but he so just wants to gag you until your eyes are watering and your makeup is fucking ruined unfortunately for him i wear waterproof eyeliner. but he does love facefucking omg. he wants to hear you gagging and choking and drooling all over yourself and his cock like he just wants to ruin you.

YES ive had noodles draw art of fedya with hickies all over him bc i needed it that badly. kal strongly disagrees with me on this but i think fedya is quite possessive, and covering you in hickies and bites and scratches is his favorite way of signifying that you are his and his alone.

U DONT EVEN KNOWWWWWWWWW HOW BIG OF A COCKWARMING FAN I AM ESP WITH HIM LIKE HE'S SUCH A TEASE dont even get me started on cockwarming like i will never stop

ok im literally so obsessed with priest!fyodor fucking you in a church like that is so amazing dfkaldfadjkl;dfj i like have to write that oh my god but also i feel like people would crucify me for that bye

and yeah id kill for him anyway but esp if his tongue was inside me bye

but also wouldnt doing aftercare for fedya but so fun like he'd be so annoying about it tho fjklfajldsfj he'd be like 'you're not drying my hair right' and you'd be like jesus fine do it yourself then and he'd be like no wait come back aslkfjasdlkk

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE BESTIE